#'Let the man from the mountains run away with your heart'

[chlochette-sunde]

I've finally discovered Radio Company's songs.

Blame me for tinhatting but isn't "City Grown Willow" about Misha?

[yeyinde]

touch starved reader with an oral fixation x kidnapper!Simon who’s all punishment and no physical affection? Please Simon just a little kiss? with tongues? :( (i just wanna make out with this man while my heart aches for him)

by Allah, you people are dogs. i will write the filth as usual.

DEAD DOVE, 18+ | dubcon. kidnapping. mean!Simon. dom!Simon. masking corporal punishment as affection. kissing. size kink, size difference. some thigh riding. degradation + humiliation (verbal). non-con pet play. marking (heavyyyyyy mentions of Simon biting you like a chew toy). choking. daddy kink (but in the awful, demeaning way). manipulation. forced affection. coersion. forced/manufactured dependency. brief mention of Simon stepping on your back to hold you down so he can whip you w a cat o nine tails. yanno. the usual Friday night.

idk. there's something so hot about you, completely naked, riding Simon's clothed thigh as he holds you up by your neck. tongue out, desperate for a kiss while he just mocks you the whole time.

It's survival. 

At first.  

A means of masking the innate horror of being stripped of your agency, your autonomy, by a man you barely even know. One you met once before (fate sealed), and now—outside of your apartment complex where he was idling by the foothold, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall, head turned. Gaze narrowed as you approached. 

Waiting for someone, you assumed, thinking nothing else about the matter. 

Nothing else, except—

He looked familiar. You think you saw him before. He was staring at you. Hadn't stopped. Hasn't said a word, either. The silence was oppressive. Heavy. Your hands fumbled with the keys. Shaking. Trembling. 

He's pretty, you thought, suddenly. In the way car wrecks can sometimes be. Jarring and awful and hideous, but—

Mesmerising. 

Macabre. And that's what he is. Everything from the mask on his face (skulls, go figure), to the absurdity in his size, his width. The way space itself seemed to move around him, bending and distorting just to let him pass. His own gravitational pull. Magnetic. You feel it tugging on you as he pulls another lungful of smoke. Another. Another.  

(like an hourglass, a timebomb, almost. you wonder what will happen when it runs out—)

He gives you the creeps. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. A visceral sense of unease curdling in the pit of your belly as he keeps staring, staring. Eyes—crystalline under the broken headlamp, washout into crushed topaz—drilling into your back, sharp enough to flay skin. Everything inside of you says to run, but your key won't fit inside the lock. Won't—

Ever. 

And hindsight has always been a bitter thing, hasn't it? Cruel in her mockery. Had you known, then, that he wasn't a workman loitering by the complex, waiting for a friend; or a low-level drug dealer casting webs into the plum hewn aether, it might have saved you. Might have. 

Maybe. Because he was there, waiting for you, all along. 

Life has a funny way of paying back good deeds. All it took for your life to crumble down around you, rubble falling off of a shaking mountain, was kindness. Was seeing a large man in the pouring rain, already drenched. Black clothing sticking to the granite contours of his body, and offering sanctum in the shape of a rusting umbrella you found at a thrift store for three dollars. 

(“here,” you said, chipper. All smiles. “i live just down the street, and you look like you need it more than i do. do you want it?”

and he—

he simply stared. stared. his eyes liquid, molten, as they carelessly dropped, roaming down the length of your body at his own leisure. leering. assessing. it was odd. weird, but—

he huffed, then. seemingly satisfied by whatever you measured up to in his head. his neck lulled back, and he gazed at you from down the crooked length of his nose, tucked neatly away under the thick band of a facial mask. skulls. how could you be so stupid? 

slowly, like he was trying not to startle a mare, his gloved hand reached out, curling thick fingers around the hilt of it. he tugged once. in your stupor, you forgot to let go. embarrassment flooded in. he huffed again, quietly amused, as you untangled your numbed fingers from the umbrella. 

in your distraction, he moved closer. smelled of ash, of mildew. sweat and stale cigarettes. there was something predatory in the way he slipped through space. a preternatural quiet. an eerie stillness. 

you hadn't realised he was there, looming, until he rasped out, “more ‘n you could ever realise, pet.”

and you're sure why you do it. did it. but your hand slips into your shopping bag, eyes widen. heart thundering in your chest. 

“are you hungry? i, uh, i just bought some apples, um—”

his eyes are lavascapes. shackles. chains. “i could eat.”)

And now—

Forced to play this strange cat and mouse of his where he treats you like soot on the bottom of his shoe, and you pretend that it's affection. Love. How godless.  

Protection, he calls it. 

("mine," he whispers, orison soft, into your ear. "ain't go' nowhere else to go, do you, pet? world's big. would eat a small thing like you up. safer here. wit' me. only me.") 

You wonder what he'd do if you told him the biggest danger here was the madness nestled inside your head, the one that sometimes made you look at him like he was your salvation instead of the warden holding the end of your leash in a firm hand. Unyielding—like everything he does. Is. 

Withholding, too. Everything must be earned. Nothing given. Nothing handed out. And you know that this is a ploy, a tactic. Subterfuge meant to chisel into your sense of self, dehumanise you. Turn you into a simpering, obedient little doll for him to play with as he wishes. You know this, and yet—

It's survival, you promise yourself as he tugs on the hook latched to your collar, testing it for weakness. Survival, when his hands—bare, bare; warmed skin against skin, you could just weep—brush over your throat, nails skimming goosebumped flesh as he wedges one, then two inside, hirsute knuckles tickling your pulse. It tightens the collar to near choking. Intentional, you know. He likes it when you beg—for air, for food, water, him. 

Vile man. Awful. 

(You want to roll on your belly at his feet.)

This cold, cruel touch lights a fire under your skin. It's been months since he's last done so. Always wearing gloves when he has to. Using paddles, belts, when you misbehave. Never his bare hand. Not anymore. 

(“m’hand is for good girls,” he slurred, words merging, meshing together, painted with exertion. He wedged his boot against the small of your back, holding you down, and cracked the end of a cat over your bare ass, thighs. Unbothered by your howls, your screams, as the whip bit into your skin. You've never so much as been hit as a child for misbehaving, and now, as an adult, you have a madman standing over you, introducing you to something called a cat o’nine tails—a favourite in the army, lovie. “bad girls,” his boot pressed down harder, heel digging into your spine. “Bad girls get the whip—”)

Bad. Bad. Because you tried to run, to leave him. He dressed you up, called you Mrs Riley, and you—

Ducked out the back door when he turned away for a second. 

Stupid. It was poor timing. A test. He set you up, measuring your loyalty to him, your commitment, and you failed. Failed. 

(“this is what ‘appens when spoiled little cunts get their way too much. they act out, don't they? bitin’ the ‘and that feeds. you'll learn soon enough, though—”)

Ghost—sir, sir (master, maker, god; you'll call him anything he wants if he touches you again)—pulls his fingers away, depriving you of his touch once more. And it's all so stupid. So fundamentally wrong, deplorable, but you follow. Needy. Whining for it in the back of your throat. 

It's been months. Months without touch. Without sensation outside of leather lashing across your thighs, your ass; harsh, gloved fingers digging into your jaw, braced against the back of your head, as you swallow down his cock in an effort to prove to him you've been good. So good. Can be good. His good girl. 

You need to touch him. Need his touch. Ache for it, for something outside of this nook he placed you inside of, denied the privilege of living upstairs with him after you tried to escape. 

You want to. Badly. Your fingers twitch. Ghost sees it. Hums. 

“Need somethin', pet?” 

Your mouth is dry. You swallow. It burns. It hurts. “Yes—”

“Yes, what?”

“Sir—”

Behind the mask he's yet to take off for you fully, only ever hitching it under his chin to devour your cunt whenever you've been good, his jaw tightens, the fabric bunching up. 

You reel back from the look of sheer displeasure etching harsh lines into the hollow gaps of his eyes. Heart thundering. Stomach churning. 

“Mas—” he cuts you off with a soft sigh. Marked with his irritation. “D—dad—”

Dad. A new one. Daddy. He didn't seem like the sort to be into this type of play, not with his sardonic, deadpan eyes. His mockery. His dessicated humour, awful and biting. You'd have sooner expected him to laugh at you—in that slow, deep hum he gives; a little chuff, full of condescension and jeer—than to get off on it. On you, kneeling between his legs with your chin braced against his palm, mouth open, tongue out, as he fucks into the tight clench of his fist, groaning as you beg daddy to give you a taste. 

It's gross. Disgusting. 

It's not done for anything else other than to humiliate you. To crush you under the heel of his boot—little bug—so that you will always know where your place is in this scenario. His little wife. Mother, mum—

He pulls on the leash, jerking you forward. Purrs, “good girl,” and then steps back, moving away from you. Cruel. Dismissive. You hate him, hate him—

(Need him so deeply. With every fibre of your being—)

You watch him as he goes, mourning the loss of his presence already, as he paces around your space, your cage. Broad shoulders barely fitting inside. Head ducking to avoid hitting his crown on the popcorn ceiling. It's strange seeing him here like this. Prowling. He usually comes when he wants you, when he needs to enact more merciless punishment on you for whatever perceived evils you committed (not greeting him with a kiss when he walked in, not letting him suffocate himself in your cunt when he had you sit on his face, not making him cum all over your face quick enough when you knew he had other engagements to get to—), or when he ruts, heavily, between your thighs, cold and detached. Seeking pleasure from your icy flesh, and giving nothing in return but white hot agony. 

Him here, idling in your presence, is revolutionary. 

“S–sir—?”

He hums, quiet. Sits in the chair as you gather the fragments of yourself littered on the ground. His mood is malleable, it seems. 

You push, fingertips sinking into the putty of his agreeable temperament. “Can I—”

You waver when his sharp eyes raze over your bare body—clothes are for good girls, after all—pupils sloshing over the edges, bleeding into midnight blue. 

Your body is a battlefield. Every inch of skin branded with his mark—pretty, thrawn rings of teeth tattooed in silver, haloed in black and red, desecrate your flesh: neck, collarbones, breasts, belly, thighs (a particular favourite of his), ass, mons; all bitten through, chewed up. It weeps when you move, has blood trickling down your skin. The cracking scabs make him coo, poor thing, all bloody fer me? and he licks at them, sucks, until only a pinkish wound in the mimesis of canines remains. 

Uprooted, turned into something new—

His chest expands when he settles his gaze on the sliver of space between your spread thighs. Concealed in tenebrous, hidden from his leering, lecherous view. He cocks his head, considers something unknown to you. His thoughts, his mind, worlds away. Untouchable. 

(only to bad girls, he’d snarled out when you asked why—)

“Testin’ my patience still?” He doesn't rip his gaze away from your cunt, speaks to it sometimes more than he speaks to you. “Thought this alone time might’a cleared your ‘ead.”

You flush. Embarrassment roiling through you. His displeasure is a palpable thing. Heavy. You hate the weight of it. 

“I need—I need you.”

Another toneless hum. “‘Course you do. Ain't got anyone else.”

He's awful. Hideous. You want to rip his tongue out of his mouth. “I—I want you. Please.”

Ghost doesn't answer. You stopped expecting him to a long time ago, his moods odd measures of ebbs and flows; passive and mild, cracking terrible, awful jokes as he strokes your back, hands riveted to your skin, and then biting and caustic the next. Pushing and pushing until you lash out, snap, so he has a reason to push you down, punished and smothered under his bulk, as he ruts into you like a beast, a man starved. Tells you it's for your own good. That you need him. Would be lost without him. 

Bludgeoning a hole into you wide enough for him to crawl inside of. Poisoning you from the inside out with the same nocuous rot that flows in his veins. 

Maybe that's been his agenda all along. Maybe. To make you want him as badly as he wanted you. Desperate, obsessive. Going so far as to follow you home, lost little mutt waiting in the shadows outside of your door until you threw him another bone. And when that didn't work, when the food stopped being enough—

He took you. Held you captive in his house deep in the wilderness. A place so endlessly green that you sometimes stare out at it—unfathomable sea of phalthos and jasper—and feel dizzy. You'll get lost out there—

just like he says. 

As he turns your obsecration over in his head, you wait, supplicant to this man as you rest on your knees. Pretty pet with a golden collar adorned in gems. 

Fitting, you find. With his head cradled against his thick knuckles, you can't help but shiver at the way he looks shrouded in the gloaming embers of a fading twilight. Leonine. A king perfectly at ease in this thick, caliginous atmosphere.

His eyes burn, magmatic, in the low light. Vats of endless ink. Black holes that will swallow you whole if you get too close. But he's poised. Contemplative. Assessing. 

And then grips the end of the leash tight in his other hand. Tugs.  

You obey the wordless command, crawling on your hands and knees to where he's spread out on the recliner. Laxed, dripping with a careless indifference as you wander to him, resting your chin on the spread of his knee. 

Looking up, up, at him, waiting. Wanting. 

There's so much of him—a fact that has been the catalyst to your downfall the moment you saw him standing under the awning; this massive creature. Thighs wider than the width of your body. Burly forearms. Broad shoulders. He's big. Indomitable. Thick, endlessly so. But there's a give to his body. Valleys of softness hiding corded muscle. Firm, but—

Your fingers sink into the soft give of his belly when you reach out, bracing against stomach. Pulling yourself further into the bracket of his spread thighs, inching closer to him. 

He meets your reverent stare, eyes liquid along his lower lash line.

“Thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ all night,” he muses, giving another pull on the leash. It destabilises you. Your nose bumps into his sternum, and you moan at the sting. 

There's a dissonance in the back of your head. A hairline fracture in the line that keeps a degree of separation between pleasure and pain. They meet against the crack in the divide, merging into a abysmal polyphony conducted by his hand. 

He watches, amused, as you whimper, sniffing harshly against the burn. It's not bleeding, and not broken—small mercies, you suppose—and you let it simmer into a dull ache as you slowly clamber into his lap.

Ghost leans back as you settle, greedily taking in the sight of your thighs stretched wide over his leg, cunt pressed, tight, against the rough scrape of his jeans. The touch burns. He hasn't touched your pussy in weeks—

“C’mon,” he urges, hand spanning the width of your lower back. Coaxing. “Show me ‘ow good you can be.”

It's all the permission you need. Slowly, slowly, your hips start to gyrate, dragging your slit over the coarse material. The friction is agony. You need more—

He draws his other hand up, curls it around your neck, forcing your head back, back. You gasp, staring at him, dizzy, from down the slope of your nose. The clasp of the collar digs into your skin. It hurts. It's too much. 

you don't want him to stop. 

His hand is huge. It spans the entire length of your neck, thumb to your pulse, pinky grazing the hollow of your throat. It forces you to lift your chin higher just to let him fit.

He likes it, too, you know. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of his bare hand, scarred and thick; dusted with a cropping of fine hairs along his scabbed knuckles, sitting against the whole of your throat. Swallowing you up. Can feel how much he enjoys the sheer depth between your sizes when his cock twitches, stiffening more

The look on his face is appraising, anatomising. There's a cold measure of distance in his gaze. A barren polynya. You want to cross it. Chart these untamed lands until they're deeply ingrained within your being. Cimmerian effigy burning to keep you warm. 

It's survival, you think, and arch into the palm of his hand. 

He holds you like a doll. One hand on your lower back, pressing your cunt to thigh. The other tightening around your throat. Bare skin against bare skin, and oh, you could just cry—

But this is not what you need. What you want. And he knows. He always does. Knows the inside of you like it's written down—inked on paper. Thumbs through the makeup of you, chapter by chapter, until no mystery remains. 

“Tell me what you need, pet. Beg for it.” 

“Let me—” his hands tighten, choking the air from your throat. Crushing your collar against your neck. “Lemme—kiss you, please, please—”

Tighter. Tighter. The world around you swims under a thin ocean. Phosphenes swim, untethered, in your periphery, ghosting along the curve of his shoulders. He might kill you yet. Keeping going, going, until those brittle, bird-like bones in your neck snap—

You'd let him, you think, muscles falling lax. Submissive. Just the way he says he likes even though you know he fucks you harder, touches you more, more, when you act out. Misbehave. 

“Kiss me?” He taunts, words abrasive. Strident. Scrubbing hard against your skin. “Ain't that jus’ the sweetest thing I ever ‘eard.” 

You burn, blister. “Please—”

“Reckon I ought to. Kissed your pretty cunt ‘fore I even kissed your lips, huh, pet?” 

Your chest folds over itself. Stomach knotting. Balling tight. Unease is a razor blade scraping your nerves. 

“Simon—”

“Ah, ah—” his hand tightens. Vicious. Chiding. “You ‘aven’t earned the privilege of sayin’ my name, ‘ave you? Cheeky thing. Might ‘ave to take a cane to you next.” 

“No, no, no—! I'm—”

“Sorry?” He mocks, cocking his head. Condescension drips from the corners of his eyes. 

“Please, sir—”

“Dad is gettin’ tired of this attitude of yours, pet—” his fingers dig into your skin, hard. Biting. A warning, you know. The blunt press of a blade to your jugular. But it thrums along the suture line to your desire, a wellspool of murk coiling low in your guts. You throb, cunt clenching down around nothing. Achingly empty. “Thought we got rid of it this time ‘round. Learned our lesson.”

The words are frank, prosaic. Had you any sense of self still malingering in the back of your head, you might have struck him for the blatant disrespect. But as you struggle to reach for it, pawing around in the vacuous abyss for any fragment of who you were before this, before him, you know—without any doubt—that none exists. Nothing. He’s too ingrained in your marrow, hewn into your skin. Copper sutures holding his filament within you. Cradled between your thighs, nestled in the rotting vacancy of your heart. 

He knows you. Every part—

“We did—we did, da—daddy, please—” 

It’s shallow. Muffled, like he’s trying to swallow it down, but you feel it rumble through his broad chest. A guttural sound. A groan. Drenched in pleasure, in want. So thick, you could almost taste it. 

He hides his need under a layer of derision. 

“Such a needy thing, ain't you? Desperate little slag like you wouldn't last out there, would you?” 

His hand digs into your hip, pushing you off of his thigh. Eyes skewering into the wet stain on his trousers. A huff spills out—the sound a near perfect mimicry of crushing charcoal in your hand. 

“No. You'd be eaten alive. Torn to pieces. World's too big for somethin' like you.”

Mindless, dazed, you nod. Arching into him. The leather leash snaps against your chest. “Yes, yes—”

His cock presses into your thigh, hard, fat. Your mouth waters. Drool dribbles down your chin. 

He smells of tinder when he leans in close, blood drenched words biting into your skin. “messy today, aren't you? Be lost without me. Tha’s why you wear a collar, isn't it?”

Pitifully, you nod. Eyes full of tears. Each word is a bludgeon into your resolve. Into your sense of self. 

But it earns you his affection, and his thumb presses into the corner of your mouth, unhinging your jaw until it falls open, lax. He holds you like that, mouth lax with his hand still around your neck. The other lifts away from your lips, goes to the thick band around the bridge of his nose, slips inside. 

There's no buildup to it. No lingering sense of anticipation. Practical, detached, he merely tugs it down, and lets it snap under his chin. 

Your breath is punched out of your lungs at the sight of him. Barefaced. Scarred. His nose is crooked; a jagged hook with scar tissue delineating the spots where it's been broken too many times. His lips are—

Full. 

Mangled. 

Scars run in thick slashes over them, denting the flesh in places. Burn marks line his pale flesh. Charcoal rubs into his eyes, highlighting the whites of his lashes against smeared soot. 

He's—

Pretty. 

Like a car crash. Calamity. The broken remains of a town after a hurricane, a tornado, ripped it apart. Ugly, brutal. His face looks like it's been mauled by a bear, a tiger. Scarred and hideous, and—

You shiver. His eyes drop, landing on your own lips. The soot on his brow flutters down, lands on his eyelashes when he lifts his brow up mockingly. Derision curdling an awful smirk on the corner of his mouth. Crooked. Like him. Like his teeth. His nose. His boxy jaw. His lips—

You kiss him. 

Can't help yourself, really. There's a pull. Gravitational. Magnetic. You need, need, to taste him. To quench this ache in your jaw that makes you want to wrap your tongue around something, play with it between your teeth. Soft and sweet—

Ghost's lips are plump beneath yours. The thick scar tissue is almost velveteen when it glides over your bottom lip. You moan into it, into the feeling; victory—however pyrrhic—swims like mercury in your veins. Finally. 

And he doesn't kiss you back. Doesn't make any effort to reciprocate at all, but he's not tense beneath you. Not stunned. Or reluctant. He’s pliant. Malleable. Agreeable, willing to let you devour his mouth, his taste, as much as you want. Doting. Letting you spoil yourself on him. With him.

Because you need him, don't you? 

Like the air you breathe. The food he gives you—apples, always, on rainy days; salmon and rice in a pretty bowl with your name etched into the porcelain—and the attention, the affection—

(suck my cock, pretty girl. don't make me put a gag on you—deeper, you can take it, can't you? take my fat cock all the way up inside your sweet little cunt—my pretty girl—)

—it’s all so divine. 

His hands on your body, your throat, spasm. Once. Just once. Against your leg, his cock twitches. Leaks prespend into the demin. You rut against his thigh, aching for it. Whimpering—

And then he's groaning into the kiss, snarling out your name until it wedges between your lungs, syphoned in from his scorching breath. Another brand in the shape of him. 

Ghost kisses the same way he eats—messy, sloppy; all teeth and tongue, and full pretty lips. Clumsy, like no one taught him how to properly hold his silverware and he's trying to mock what he saw on television. Brumish. A broken, contemptuous pastiche of sumptuosity. A starving dog, snarling around its plundered morsel. Protective. Possessive. 

It coils around you. Thick, smothering. 

He sucks your tongue into his mouth, catching it between his teeth. The sting brings tears to the corner of your eyes, and when you pry them open, you find him already staring at you (always, always, always—), lidded. Heavy pools of desire shaded in the brume of a winter dawn. A bonfire flickering in the distance of a whiteout. Sanctuary from the cold—

He seems to catch himself. Expression flickering. Warbling around the edges. It closes off in a blink. He pulls back. Locks into the ashlar veneer of this indifference he wears like a suit of armour. 

But you saw it. It was there. Within reach—

“Need me, don't you?” He drawls, timber a needlepoint between cruelty and desire. Sultry, low. Husky. He knows what it does to you. How he can unravel you at the seams with just his voice alone. “Need me so fuckin’ much, pet. Would be lost without me—”

“Please, Simon,” you whisper, feather-soft. Cunt throbbing, pulsing. Needy. “Please—”

The strident reprimand for using his name doesn't come. His hand tightens around your throat, unconscious. A paroxysm that has pleasure carving itself down your spine, electric. 

“Come get it, then,” he rasps, voice wrecked. Raw. Curling at the edges, thickening his accent until the words elide. 

Hand to your throat, he drags you close. Closer still. Keeps you sat pretty on his lap as he pulls you in for a bruising, hungry kiss. Tongue shoving between your teeth when you gasp.

His kisses are always hungry, but this is different. Greedy. He devours you whole. Eats you alive. His hand falls to your lower back, holding you tight to his chest.

You moan into it, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Squeezing until your knuckles blanche, joints twinging in discomfort. 

After months of nothing, this alone is bliss. His taste soaking onto your tongue, drenching it in the bitter tang of sage, wheatgrass, and stale cigarettes. Intoxicating. It leaks into you, nocuous. Infects from the inside out. 

His plan coming to fruition, you think. What he sought out to do all along, ever since you wandered close to this untameable Tartarean guard, and offered yourself up to the jowls of a starving beast. 

He pulls away with a heavy breath, eyes charing around the edges; brittle briquette. 

“Gonna be a good girl from now on? Come upstairs, be a good mum for dad? Or am I gonna ‘ave to cane this—” his hand drops, grabbing a fistful of your ass in his hand, fingers digging into the skin between your cheeks. Possessive. It cracks like a whip down your nerves. “—tight lit’le arse?”

You shake your head instantly. Quickly. “I'll be good,” you whisper into his chin, tongue flicking out to lick across his scars. The dried sweat on his skin tastes briny. Reminds you of the ocean on a brumous November evening. The incipient yawn of a ravenous hurricane gathering its lot on the shore. 

Sirens blare in the distance. Fear curdles in your guts, sits heavy like a stone. An anchor. 

“So sweet f’me,” he mutters, words deepening as his head falls back, letting you pepper kisses across the underside of his jaw. Mouthing along the constellation of scars. His voice is rumble. It shivers across your lips, tongue. Shakes the marrow in your bones. “Better stay this way, pet.”

Into his pulse, you murmur, “I think you like it better when I’m bad.” 

You can feel the snarl brimming in the back of his throat. Your ass stings with the phantom burn of when he lashed out with the whip. It drags a whimper out from deep within your chest. 

His hand tightens around your neck. A warning. “Got some guests over f’dinner tonight. Would love to finally introduce them to my sweet little wife—” deft fingers slip across the dewy skin of your folds, knuckles grazing over your drenched hole. The touch makes you squirm. “But if you’re gonna be bad, then I’ll leave you locked up down ‘ere.”

“I’ll be good,” you swear, words a hushed breath over his jugular. His finger flattens, drawls soft, slow circles around your clit. “Ah, I’ll—I’ll be so, so good, Simon—”

“Good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” His palm flexes possessively around your throat when you nip at old scar tissue. “Maybe I’ll let you sleep in our bed tonight instead of in your dog house. We can ‘ouse together. I’ll fuck you proper—” he roughly shoves two fingers into your hole, leering when you gasp, back arching in a bow. “Know this pretty pussy has been achin’ for me, ‘asn’t it? Gonna breed it full—”

There’s static in your head, ringing in your ear. The noise distorted, pulled underwater. You think you say something, plead—no, no, no, anything but that—but his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pushing up, up into you, notching against that spot inside that makes your head swim, your vision flicker. The abyssal chasm inside of you aches, rages; its waters swell, currents frothing, slamming against the ceiling of its iron prison, and—

Simon pulls away. Fingers stilling inside of you. No friction, no relief. Hypoxia renders the world silent. Muted. Held in stasis, stagnating at the edge of a gaping precipice he holds you over, secured by the fragile curve of your neck, fine bone china. 

Phosphenes swim by. The chossy wobbles.

This distance is agony. You need to be closer, closer, to crawl inside of him, to live in the brackets of his ribs, safe and protected from the world he warns you about. Stone cold. You mewl, whine—

“Gonna be my good little wife?”

Gasping with broken lungs, you nod. Nod, nod until you’re nauseous. Dizzy. Sick—

His spit cools on your lip. Your hackles raise, body shuddering in revulsion—some primal part rears, hisses it’s infectious. Wrong. Get rid of it—

“Not gonna run?”

Slowly, you lick your lips, catching his sickness on your tongue. Swallowing it down until it sinks like a stone to the bottom of your belly. Heavy, for such a small, damning thing. 

How absurd, you think. How absolutely mad. 

Then you whisper, paperthin, “kiss me again, please, Simon—”

And he moves. Liquid in the gloam. Made more for shadows, midnight, than for golden apricity, where the light is harsh on his face, unveiling ruins and ravines; monoliths meant to be paid tribute to in the dark. Your hands lift to his jaw when he moves in, catching your lips in a bruising, biting kiss. 

His touch is searing. Owning. He isn't laying claim: no, you're already his. 

It's possessive and angry. No finesse. All slate teeth and tender tongue. They slide together in a strange game; little fawn stupidly nipping at the tiger's heel. He lets you, groaning into your mouth when you arch back, hips pushing into his fingers, taking him deeper. A pale pantomime of what's to come when he lays you on his soft bed, sweet and divine, and buries himself deep. 

It should scare you. Ought to. And maybe it does. Survival, you think, but you still pull him closer. Deeper. Because it’s bliss, you find. The world around you falling dead. Silent. Pulled into a vacuum. Teetering on the edge of a black hole, event horizon. He drags you in. 

Simon hums, pulling you closer. Touching you—soft, sweet. Palms a gyve. Shackles, chains. His fingers lift from your neck, trailing down the slope of your throat until he reaches the golden loop of your collar's hook. His gaze glides, magmatic, down to where your leash dangles between your heaving breasts.

It's almost tender when he grabs it into his fist. When he pulls, pulls—

Your back arching. His fingers slipping deeper inside your cunt. Obedient little doll.

When he lifts his eyes, the look you find is hot enough to char bone. You taste blood in the back of your throat—

Into the seam of your mouth, he purrs, “good girl.”

—and you swallow it down with a moan. 

(after all, you know better than to run from starving dogs—)

[seren1tyhaze]

Unconditional

PAIRING: jaehyun x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SUMMARY: dating a hot actor is great and all, until you find some texts on his phone that make you wonder if he's really the man of your dreams

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back after another unplanned hiatus. Even when I'm not posting here, I'm always thinking about writing things and wanting to share more. I have written a couple things for Ao3 so those will be up there soon. As usual, Mr. Jeong Jaehyun himself has ruined me again with his new song and video to the point where I sat down and wrote this in one sitting and never looked back. More from me soon, I promise xx

WARNINGS: established relationship, domestic fluff, explicit smut, swearing

PLAYLIST: Unconditional by Jaehyun, Smoke by Jaehyun, Birthday by Ten, Honey by John Legend

--

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“I just don’t believe you Jae! Do you think I’m stupid?”

Your cheeks are burning red and you know your chest is splotchy as your temperature rises, heart pounding. Ever since you were a kid, your skin would turn bright red the moment you started to get agitated, making you a terrible poker player and never one to even try to lie to anyone. It was one of things that endeared you to Jaehyun immediately, his bright red ears the moment someone teased him or he felt embarrassed.

“Baby, baby,” he starts, groggily reaching a large hand to you from the mountain of pillows and plush white sheets. His hair is still pushed back in that stupid plastic headband he fell asleep wearing the night before, making it hard to take him seriously in the heat of the moment.

You wipe a single tear from your eye before it can slip down your cheek and turn away from him, throwing his phone onto the covers with more strength than you thought you had in the moment.

Dating a famous actor who spends most of his time at premieres in Seoul and on movie sets around the world wasn’t easy. You had turned Jaehyun down the first few times he slid up on your Instagram stories, a mutual stylist friend having introduced you at a small birthday dinner you both were invited to.

Grabbing his phone off the nightstand instead of yours this morning had sent you into a spiral, shaking him awake in the bed to ask for an explanation about why he’s messaging someone about a “gorgeous girl named Honey” and how he “can’t wait to spoil her the way she deserves.”

“We’ve been together for a year and now you’re going to start cheating on me? Really original, Jeong.”

Your eyes roll back into your sockets and you scoop all your long, curly hair onto the top of your head, pulling running shorts and socks from the dresser near the window as you continue to grill him.

Jaehyun sits up fully, the comforter slipping off his shoulders and exposing his bare, chiselled chest. He’s still pale from having spent the whole winter filming in Canada, not having had enough trips to the nearby beach to have his adorable freckles reappear on his cheeks. His hair is bright white, platinum, and long in the back, soft in the morning light streaming in the floor to ceiling windows.

“You know I went out with Mingyu last week to that Dior party and he said if I ever wanted it to be a real date, just say the word and he would drop everything and everyone.”

“Dior? You wound me,” Jaehyun replies, mockingly rubbing his pec as he rolls his eyes. You know how much the statement had to hurt him, he always had been worried about your closeness to his friend Mingyu (and Mingyu’s long wavy hair, sparkly eyes, and massive biceps), even if he lets that go unsaid now.

“I’m going for a run and when I get back, I really hope you’ve managed to get up, shower, and figure out how you’re going to tell your PR team about this, unless they are all in on it too,” you finish, wobbling near the foot of the bed as you try to put your socks on while standing.

A firm hand is on your wrist, instantly balancing you. You look up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes, soft and glittering and sending you back to the first time you ever met.

“Who needs the candy, you look sweet enough to eat,” he had practically purred in your ear, pressing a hand between your thighs, under the silky material of your Vivienne Westwood skirt in a private booth in the back a dark room, surrounded by tall crystal jars of sweets.

Your marketing executive job had your team planning events for high end clients on a regular basis but this event had been extra special as your best friend had finally launched her own luxury cosmetics brand. The event was a mix of rich pops of red, velvety cushions and extravagant accessories, diamond necklaces draped across necks of models with artistic and bold eye looks. You had spared no expense for your friend and your assistant had the mountains of receipts to prove it.

The guest list was no exception, you had made sure every A-list name had received an invite and hundreds of attractive and trendy faces from fashion and entertainment filled the event space. That included Seoul’s hottest star, known for his striking and stoic look and deep, rich voice.

“You are not using that as an opening line on me,” you had sighed, trying to push down the moan bubbling up in your throat as long fingers toyed with lace dangerously close to slipping out of place.

“Technically, I asked you if the brownies had tree nuts because my body guard is allergic,” he quipped back, thumb brushing over you with intention.

You had bit your lip in frustration and swatted his hand away, grabbing his phone from his coat pocket and giving him your number, insisting that he had to reach out first because you were busy with a “real job”. He had laughed, sucking his now wet thumb into his mouth and letting it slide out with a loud popping noise and a simple “Yes, ma’am”.

That same phone was now in his hand a little under a year later, his fingers moving quickly against the glass screen.

“You don’t have anything to say?” you ask in shock and before you can say another word, your doorbell is chiming and he’s up from the bed and down your hallway, wearing nothing but his stupid boxers with lemons on them.

You roll your eyes and move to your large kitchen for a glass for water, almost letting it slip from your hands as he places a large Prada shopping bag on the marble island.

“A bag? A fucking purse is supposed to make me forgive you? How did you even get that this fast?”

“Baby, just look inside and it will explain everything,” he speaks calmly, sliding the bag carefully closer to you.

You untie the ribbon holding it loosely closed and you think you’re losing your mind when you see the bag move on its own. As soon as the thick paper opens, a tiny brown and curly head of fur appears. Neatly groomed ears are shaking and a tiny black Prada collar is clasped around the neck of the puppy.

“A dog?!” you exclaim in disbelief. The puppy lets out a small but high pitched bark, demanding to be let out of the bag with a fluffy paw nudging your hand.

“A chocolate French poodle puppy,” Jaehyun corrects, moving behind you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing his bare chest into your back. He lifts the puppy from the bag and places her into your waiting arms, the puppy taking no time at all to snuggle into your neck.

“Her name is Honey,” he tells you and you can practically feel his smile from the way he speaks.

“Honey…” you repeat. The dog’s eyes are wide in curiosity, head tilting to the side as she appears to recognize her name.

“Yeah, baby?” he jokes back, pressing warm lips to the short hairs at your hairline. You can tell he thinks he’s funny for that joke and you don’t need to turn to see what kind of look is in his eye. He trails his mouth to your ear, nudging the metal hoops along the shell and kissing the “14” ink at the skin behind your ear.

Your mouth is suddenly so dry that you can’t speak so you simply turn in his arms, letting Honey drop to the floor and bound excitedly on your slippery floors.

“How long had you been planning this surprise for me to just ruin it with my paranoia?” you murmur against his forehead, pressing a tender kiss to smooth skin.

“A couple months, I was just trying to find the perfect puppy for us,” he replies, fingers drawing circles on the bare skin exposed between your sports bra and shorts.

“I’m so sorry,” you reply, feeling embarrassment heat up your cheeks and sweat start to prick at your hairline.

“Don’t be,” he smiles back with his million watt smile that landed him his first commercial at eight years old, plucked from his class trip to a theme park by a talent scout.

“You know how I feel about you, nothing is going to change that. Not even if you go on 127 million dates with Kim Mingyu,” he finishes, sealing his lips over yours.

You open your lips and greedily press your tongue behind his annoyingly perfect teeth, lifting your fingers up to tug at the hair almost touching his shoulders.

“God,” Jaehyun growls in between kisses, grabbing at your ass to hoist you up on the counter, tugging roughly at your shorts to push them down to your ankles and ripping your legs open.

You’re panting, resting back on your wrists as he holds your knees open and presses wet kisses to your inner thighs. His energy is wild and chaotic, exactly as you’ve always expected from him and your mind is starting to go to that numb place it always goes when gets his tongue on you.

You arch your back in pleasure, letting moans tumble from your lips freely, trying desperately to ignore the adorable face now perched on your couch, eyes curious but also dozing off from exerting energy after running the full length of your penthouse.

You let your eyes fall to the rolling waves out the window, morning sun blinding you and forcing you to look down at the bobbing head of the blonde man between your legs. He meets your gaze with sparkling eyes and drops a kiss to his self proclaimed favorite tattoo of yours, a small rose on your hip bone. You smile softly at him before shrieking and almost crushing his head with your thighs when he takes sharp canines to the spot, almost drawing blood.

He jumps up and starts running towards your bedroom, scooping a startled Honey off the back of the couch and holding her in front of him he runs backwards.

“Jaehyun, you cannot use our child as a shield!” you yell, almost slipping in your socks as you bound after him.

When you round the corner, you slam into his bare chest, standing at the foot of the bed. Honey is curled up on the same pillow Jaehyun had tucked under his arm as he slept, already dozing again.

“Our child? I like the sound of that,” he says seriously, his voice velvety and tempting. His hands are at your waist again and you are having a hard time thinking straight.

“Calm down there, mister,” you chuckle, pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bed and dropping to your knees in between his open legs.

“Let’s see how you do with this dog first,” you mutter, hands pushing down his boxers easily to take his hardened length between experienced fingers.

He smiles with his whole face at your words, eyes crinkling up in the corners and shoulders shaking a bit as you move your mouth over smooth skin, letting his soft moans fill the room and calm your racing heart.

[elysianightsss]

Another sweet sweet price thot💋

Okay but let’s talk about Mountain man Price. He retired a few years ago and decided he much prefers the solitude of the beautiful mountains, with the tips of them all covered in snow. He likes the quiet, knowing he won’t run into anyone here. No one from the little town at the bottom of the mountains would be brave enough to hike the mountain trail.

He remembers the day he built his nice log cabin with the help of his trusty lieutenant of course. Simon helped his Captain one last time, before parting ways. Price wanted to be alone, after everything he’d experienced in the military, he wanted it to be just himself and the weather to keep him company.

He’d have the survival skills no doubt about it, but the more time he spent up there the more his social skills began to fade away. He’d have to come down every six months or so to restock his food, he make his trip down the hike trail to the little town at the bottom of the mountains and through the woods.

But the shop workers weren’t his biggest fans. He’d practically clear them out of their stock, the poor little local shop. They didn’t like his attitude either, found him strange and unapproachable. Though that’s exactly what John was going for. The less people that spoke to him, the better.

Until he met you of course.

It was only your second week at your new job, you’d just moved to the little town around a month ago and this was the only job available after some woman called Darlene went of maternity leave.

My gosh the way you’d be so nice to him having no idea the stigma that surrounded him and how suprised he’d be at the kindness you showed him. He’d actually look forward to coming down to the town.

He’d come more often as well, saying he’d ran out of supplies and yet he’d only buy a bag of fruit or some meat. Then he’d start to tidy up his appearance too, trim his over grown beard and moustache back to its former glory. The blush that would spread across your cheeks the first time you see him like that.

Hair trimmed too, you’d be able to see his perfect lips and crooked smile. It provoked a feeling in you that you’d long forgotten. Slowly but surely he’d start trying to flirt. Trying. Though you found it endearing how bad he was at it. Finally though he’d succeeded asking you out on a date and fuck the moment he’d turn up in his dark blue jeans, black shirt and dark brown leather jacket and boots. You swooned.

He had the charm turned on, especially after his phone call with his ex team. They could all hear how nervous their former captain was for this date. It made them very intrigued to meet you one day.

John didn’t miss a beat, almost as if he’d laid this date out like a mission. Going step by step to win your heart. He made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt, made you smile until your cheeks ached. Ordered the food and drinks impressively, no umming or stuttering.

He gave you butterflies when he reached over the table to grab your hand in his larger one. The skin was rough and calloused, but it felt amazing against your hand. He loved how soft your skin felt against his. He traced around the palm of your hand with his thick index finger, those gorgeous ocean eyes gazing into your soul.

After dinner, John took you to a local bar that you were pleasantly surprised with. A few drinks later you tipsily confessed how handsome you thought he was. The longer the evening went on, the more longing looks and teasing touches were shared.

The evening ended with the two of you slow dancing until last call. The way your bodies pressed together, the intimacy and warmth. The way he’d always make eye contact, almost as if he was trying to read you. The way he held you so tender yet tight, his large hands on your body. It all just felt so right.

John walked you home, looking so sad when it was time to part ways. “Please, let’s do this again sweetheart.” When your manager Billy had called you that, it made you feel sick. Had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, disgust shivering down your body. But when John said it, damn. Your body shivered in delight, the deep mumble entangled with that delicious accent of his made you gulp back a lump in your throat. You swear your underwear was a little wet too.

You nodded leaning forward to kiss his cheek goodnight, John was quick to take your cheeks into his hands and press his wanting lips against yours. He was hungry and almost vicious when he kissed you, it made you wonder what kind of lover he was like as he pressed you against your front door and kissed you like he’d never get the chance again.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 12) [note: trigger warning for a pretty rough spanking scene with a belt and minimal aftercare. if you need to, you can skip to the midway point (there's a line between the first half and second).]

first chapter >> last chapter

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He keeps your hands tied behind your back on the ride home.

All that does is confirm the fact that he must know. Graves must have tracked him down or perhaps he was approached by someone who did consider your sudden arrival in town suspicious. Why else would the sheriff chase you all the way into the mountains on horseback and then take you back with him? He would’ve within his rights to leave your thieving self to wander alone in the woods and succumb to the elements.

John doesn’t say a word the first hour of the ride back. You can feel the anger emanating from him though. He almost shakes with it. His anger somehow upsets you more than whatever is left to come. 

“Anytime you wanna start talkin’, I’m all ears,” John finally says, breaking the silence. 

You keep your lips pressed together, stubbornly silent. There’s no use giving yourself away before you’ve learned how much he knows. You haven’t built this life of yours with loose lips. 

“I don’t know what in the Sam Hill has gotten into you,” he continues, and his voice is cobblestone tread rough in the night. “Running off all by yourself. There ain’t nothing out in these parts except outlaws and highwaymen. There are men out here that’d love to get their hands on a woman like you—not even a knife to defend yourself with. You haven’t even got a scrap of food on you, never mind water. You’d’ve been dead in a week if the men out here hadn’t picked you off themselves.”

His words make your stomach ache. You know that there are worse things out there. A thousand gruesome ways to die. You’re less of a lady than John might think—you’ve heard stories. You’ve brushed close to that reality yourself. You wonder how he’d take it if you were to tell him about what had happened back east. 

Maybe running away this time hadn’t been your smartest idea, but it had been your only. You can’t fault yourself for the instinct to survive. 

“I know,” you mumble, dropping your chin to your chest. 

“You gonna explain to me why you stole my horse and ran off in the first place?” he asks. 

It’s the strangest interrogation you’ve ever heard of—sitting on the same horse with your back to the man questioning you and your hands tied together at the wrists. You wonder if you leaned back whether you’d feel his heart beating furiously in his chest. 

You remain mulishly silent though, reticent to answer the question.

“Maybe I’ve been spoiling you,” he continues, trying to rationalize it to himself. “After the fuss you put up those first few days, I thought a bit of structure and discipline would do you well, and it did. Giving you a bit of slack was my mistake.”

You frown at that. Those don’t sound like the words of a man with any knowledge of the circumstances leading to you running off. He might not even have come across Graves at all in the hours since the man made his appearance in the general store. Otherwise, you can’t imagine how he wouldn’t make the connection. 

Still, you can’t make yourself come right out and say it, even though every iota of your being aches to let the truth out. Call it nerves overpowering the need to be truthful and good. You vacillate between honesty and self-preservation, but each avenue feels like being dropped into a nest of vipers. 

But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t question you like this. It’s a boon you can’t give up, not yet. Not when the thought of his inevitable righteous fury fills you with dread and self-loathing. 

“I don’t have to explain myself,” you spit out suddenly, and it’s not you saying those words but something ugly and sad in you. “You’re not my owner.”

“I damn sure am your husband though,” John growls, winding his free hand around your hair to tug you back into his chest. “And I know these parts far better than you, little miss. Beyond running off on me for no good reason when I thought we put your reticence behind us, you went and put yourself in danger the likes of which you couldn’t even fathom.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you snap. “I know what men are like.”

“You’re telling me you pulled that stunt knowing what kinda danger is out there in the woods?”

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“I know you weren’t,” John grunts. “That’s the issue.” 

The rest of the ride home is uncomfortably quiet. John keeps one hand clamped on your waist while the other holds the reins of both horses, the two walking alongside each other back down the trail towards the house. The ride home is a lot longer than the ride out into the woods since John refuses to let either of them go faster than a slow trot while your hands are tied behind your back. 

He snorts in derision at your suggestion to undo your binds. “That eager for your punishment?” 

That gets you to zip your lips. 

When you get drowsy, John tips your head back and makes you sip from his waterskin. His hand fits carefully around your throat to hold your head in place, his fingers curling around to just graze the nape of your neck. Your throat pulses under his palm when you swallow. It’s far too intimate for how restless you feel, damn near shaking out of your skin, but it briefly shushes the voice in your head until he pulls his hand away. 

A shadow under the doorway of the house startles you at first before it takes a step into the faint light of the setting sun and you recognize the bristly blond of Simon’s shorn head and the red bandana shrouding the bottom half of his face. The tension ebbs back into you when you realize with creeping humiliation that the black horse you rode home on must belong to him. 

He watches the two of you approach with predictable disinterest, his eyes betraying nothing. The shame is excruciating. 

John brings the horse to a halt some feet from Simon, not bothering to greet him. You wonder if it’s the anger choking him or if this is just routine, men trading favors in silence lest a word in gratitude break the spell. After dismounting himself, John helps you down, all but picking you up and lifting you off the horse. 

Simon doesn’t say a word to either of you when he takes the reins from John’s hands, giving him only a curt nod and you a cursory glance before leading his horse away to mount. He doesn’t spare you a backwards glance before taking off back towards town. You watch him over your shoulder while John guides you up the porch steps and into the house, until the shape of him disappears into the horizon. Then the door shuts behind you. 

Alone now, your attention turns back to John. He stares down at you consideringly, a hand planted on the door he just shut until he lets it fall to his side. You can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing something out. 

It wouldn’t be right to call it anticipation; it’s not quite dread either. 

“I don’t make idle threats, you know,” he says, apropos of nothing. 

His words make you frown until you glance down to find him undoing his belt. Your blood turns to ice. He tugs the thick strap until it comes sliding out of each loop around his waist. The buckle rests heavy in his palm, thick fingers curling around it, and when he bends the belt in two, you already know that he intends to follow through with his threat from earlier, the one you said you’d gut him for.

“I’ll scream,” you warn, heart in your throat. It almost chokes you. “I mean it. I’ll scream like the devil.”

“Don’t go makin’ no empty threats now, darlin’,” he says in a low voice, almost taunting. You can hear the hard edge in his voice though. It’s not something he craves, but he’ll take it. 

“You touch me with that thing and I’ll never forgive you.” 

John’s eyes go hard. “I’ll just have to take that chance.” 

And then he’s on you.

He hooks an arm around your waist when you try to rush past him back out the door and it forces the breath out of you. 

You struggle as best you can with your hands tied behind your back, trying to wriggle out of his hold even as he heaves you up into his arms and climbs the staircase towards the bedroom. The steps creak under the added weight of you in his arms. The screams come tearing from your throat, ripping your vocal cords and nearly sending you into a coughing fit. 

“Let—me—go—” you shriek, kicking out wildly, hoping to catch something that’ll make him lose his balance. 

“All that squirmin’ ain’t making me feel more merciful,” he growls. 

John kicks the bedroom door open with his foot when he reaches the top of the staircase. The room looks ominous without the oil lamp lit, the shadows growing in the corners swallowing up the end table. The bed is just as you made it this morning, the sheets pressed tight and neat, and you only get a second to take that in before he marches towards the bed and throws you down onto it.  

You hit the bed hard, bouncing slightly. He sits down heavily enough to jostle you and when you try to roll away on instinct, a hand catches you by the bicep and pulls you back. He hauls you across the bulk of his thighs this time, far different from your first meeting back in the sheriff’s office all those weeks ago. Your feet don’t even touch the floor this time around, dangling in the air and flailing for purchase. 

“You brute—you bastard!” you screech.

“I’m not gonna be as charitable this time,” John says, yanking your dress up and your drawers down until your bare bottom is exposed. You gasp at the cold air, murmuring something like please, please, please under your breath. “Even if I knew why it was you decided to run off, that doesn’t excuse the fact that you did. You coulda been hurt or worse out there, darlin’, and I’d never have forgiven myself. I’m gonna make sure the lesson sinks in this time.”

He folds the leather belt to hold it in one hand, leaving the other to pin you down over his thighs, making sure you don’t wriggle out. The leather is cool at first when he drags it over your butt. It makes your breathing pick up. It’s so gentle that you can almost trick yourself into thinking that it’s all he intends to do. 

The first lash comes so quick that you barely register it. The second knocks the wind out of you, and then the pain sets in. 

It stings something fierce. Where his palm hurt that first time he bent you over his desk and spanked you, the belt burns. It goes deep and it lingers when he pulls the leather away from your stinging bottom. 

“Hurts like the dickens, don’t it?” John asks, not bothering to wait for confirmation before bringing the belt down again. “You’re lucky it’s only ten this time.”

You howl into the bedsheets, eyes tearing up and spilling down your cheeks. When you try to cover your ass with your bound hands, John grabs them and pins them to the small of your back. 

“What’ll you never do again?” he growls. 

“I—I’ll—”

“Say it, darlin’: I’ll never run off on my own again.”

“I’ll—n-never gonna—oh, it hurts, John—please—”

At some point, you must say the words he’s looking for. You lose count of how many times his belt has struck across your ass. Like thunder coming after lightning, you feel it and then you hear it. The sharp snap comes as a second wave of agony in and of itself. 

Your throat is stripped raw by the time it’s over. The aftermath finds you with a puddle of drool under your cheek, hair matted to your face. Sweat slicks the backs of your thighs and down your spine. Even the gentlest brush of John’s hand over your backside, the belt deposited off the side of the bed, makes you flinch, the skin there tender to the touch. You’ll surely feel it deep in your bones come sunrise. 

Too exhausted for anger, all you can do is lie there. It sits heavy in your stomach though, a pit at the center of you. You want to say, who gave you the right? The answer burns a ring around your finger though. You want to say, you don’t understand, it had nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with him and you. 

You can tell he wants to say something. It gets choked in his throat, but you can hear it in the way his breath draws in, like he’s trying to coax it from his chest but it simply won’t come out. 

“Stay right there,” John rumbles instead, shifting you onto the bed to let you lie on your belly. 

You moan in pain when he moves you, sniffling into your arms. The crook of your elbow is sticky with your tears and snot. 

The bed dips under his weight when he comes back. You flinch violently when he draws the skirt of your dress up again and smooths his hand over the tender cheeks of your backside, spreading a cool salve over your skin. The first touch of his hand makes you hiss, tears beading in the corners of your eyes again, but then the cool sinks in, alleviating the ache. 

He does that for another few minutes in silence. Gentle, tentative touches, only stopping when the salve has been spread evenly over your bottom. He’s quiet when he shifts you up the bed until your feet are no longer dangling off the end. You’re distantly aware of him taking off your shoes and tucking you into bed, but the events of the day have finally gotten the better of you. It would be easier to push a boulder up a hill than crack even one of your eyelids open.

Time passes slowly; sluggishly. Your thoughts can’t quite catch up with it, either too quick or too slow. You’re stuck in thoughts of the desert, caught in a sandstorm that manifests too suddenly for you to take cover. All you can do is close your eyes and wait it out. 

Morning comes like a brutal summoning into the waking world. 

It hurts, but you expected that. Before your eyes even open, you’re aware of a throbbing pain coming from your backside. You wince when you shift to your side, squeezing your eyes tight. You contemplate rolling over and taking your chances with John’s temper. The thought isn’t as appealing in the light of day though. 

It takes some time to get out of bed and when you do, you have to step tentatively from floorboard to floorboard, the ache making it decidedly uncomfortable. You can’t imagine what sitting down will be like. Riding a horse is just out of the question. 

From the bedroom window, you see John standing in front of the house with Simon, back again not even twelve hours later. With the window closed, you can’t hear their conversation, nor can you read their lips. Their exchange doesn’t last long though. After another minute or so, and a nod goodbye, Simon walks back over to his horse standing nearby and lifts himself up and over onto the saddle, taking off towards town. 

When John turns back towards the house, you see him glance up towards the bedroom window where you stand. The circles beneath his eyes are dark, pronounced. On another day, you might’ve ducked out of sight or jumped away from the window, but now you hold his gaze. 

He breaks your stare first this time, heading back inside. It’s less satisfying than you thought it’d be. 

You spend the day resting in bed and avoiding John for the most part. He spends the majority of the day out of the house. You hear him downstairs in the kitchen around midday, fixing himself up something to eat, and you listen attentively to the scrape of the chair across the floor and the pan on the stovetop. Like the day he brought you home, he brings you up a tray only to leave it at the door, rapping the door with his knuckles to let you know before heading back downstairs. 

When he comes up for bed, you’re already lying down with your back to the door, the oil lamp left unlit. John doesn’t say anything to you as he changes into his nightwear. He smells fresh when he climbs into bed, like he bathed in the creek out in the woods. You breathe in deeply, trying to keep your breath quiet enough to not disturb the silence. The pillow under your head is saturated with his scent. You turn your nose into it when he lies down on his back instead of curling into you like he usually does. 

Your chest aches at that simple denial. There’s a wall between the two of you and you know where it came from. Any trust that you’d built lies in ruins now. 

Perhaps that’s not quite right though. It’s a romantic notion that you’ve been building something together all this time, but it doesn’t feel right now that you have the wherewithal to look back and reflect. All this time, whenever you’ve touched, you’ve held him steadfast and at an arm's length away, stopping two degrees short of intimacy. 

Deliberately effusive; and worse, you’ve called it affection. 

The tenderness in your heart is the worst of it. There’s a bruise there, and it’s been there awhile. It’s only grown with your recent troubles. You tell yourself every year that you’ll air it out come spring, but then the winter comes and it freezes over again.  

The pillow under your chest grows damp with your tears. 

Your dress the next morning is cornflower blue. The wheatfields are golden stalks swaying in the breeze. It’s a pleasanter day than how you feel. 

The ride into town is as painful as you thought it might be. You wince with every stride, your bottom still tender as a rose. John’s arm tightens around your waist when you squirm, like you might slide off the saddle and try to flee again, and you bite your lip to hold back the urge to snap. 

The little bit of independence you’d grown to enjoy is snatched away from you. You expected that as well, but that loss of privilege comes with a biting ache. You fight the urge to gnash your teeth and bark at him that you’re not a child when he grips you under the arm and leads you down the road. It wouldn’t do you any good. 

When John leaves you off at the general store, you’re surprised to find Kate back, hale and hearty. She looks up when the chime over the door jingles and raises her eyebrows in greeting. The sound makes you flinch, memories coming back unbidden. 

You look over your shoulder to say something to John before he leaves, but the door is already closing behind him by the time you turn around. Your lips are pursed on a word that dissolves in your mouth. It has a bitter aftertaste. 

“Thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days,” you say instead, turning back to Kate. There’s already a chair pulled up for you by the wall and you make yourself comfortable there, grimacing at first when your sore backside touches the wood before settling in. 

She shrugs. “Plans changed. Gaz and I made it back late last night.”

You frown. “Gaz?”

“Kyle Garrick. Sorry—slip of the tongue. You’ve met him already. He used to go by Gaz way back when.”

“Way back when?”

“Not my story to tell. You should ask one of them, if you’re curious.”

You are, but not enough to ask. “Maybe.”

The two of you lapse into silence after that exchange. Before leaving the house, you remembered to bring with you some needles and wool to pass the time. They’re not as familiar in your hands as you’d like them to be, but you suppose, barring the possibility of Graves or another bounty hunter showing up in town to cart you off, you’ll have time to learn. 

The thought leaves you anxious. It feels distinctly more possible now. 

“You met Miles while I was away?” Kate asks, out of the blue.

Your head comes up at her question. “Miles?”

“He was minding the store for me while I was away. Said you came in the other day.”

You swallow reflexively. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I did meet him. I didn’t stay long, since you were gone and all.”

She hums and looks back down at the book in front of her. You feel nervous all of a sudden. 

“He said you were very helpful,” she says abruptly, breaking the silence. You flinch. “Told me some gentleman came by with a warrant for a murder back east and you were kind enough to take it to your husband for him so he could keep minding the shop.”

Your throat constricts. She pins you under her gaze, unblinking eyes staring into yours but not looking for anything. Wispy blonde bangs brush along her forehead when she tilts her head ever so slightly. 

You nod instead of answering. 

“Did you give it to him?” she asks.

“I didn’t have a chance to. The day got away from me,” you say tersely. 

“I heard something about that. Kyle said John had to borrow Simon’s horse the other day. Said something about him taking off in a hurry.”

Again, you don’t answer. It feels like without knowing it, you’ve crossed over a threshold. 

“Do you still have it?” Kate prompts when again you don’t respond. You don’t tell her that you don’t because in all the fuss the other day, it must have slipped out of your pocket and drifted off into the wind. “The warrant?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. 

“That’s alright. I have a good enough idea about what it might’ve said.” 

Sweat beads on your upper lip. She all but says it outloud. You’re as still as a ferrotype under her gaze, imprinted in place, unable to move so much as a muscle or force a word past your stiff lips. 

“You’re under no obligation to tell me or anyone,” Kate says, and her voice is suddenly gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it before. “I’m sure you had your reasons. I won’t be telling John, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you breathe, throat so tight that the words almost don’t come out. 

It’s the closest you’ve come to admitting to it, tangentially or not, and even now it’s spoken only out of the corner of your mouth. You don’t think you have it in you to recite the events sequentially. Even in the privacy of your memory, it comes piecemeal, in fragmented images that flicker across your mind because maybe to remember it whole would be too much. 

You don’t say much more after that, and neither does Kate. That wasn’t the point of bringing it up, you think. You'd know if it was. 

When John comes to fetch you at the end of the day, you leave without saying goodbye to Kate. Only a stiff smile before heading out on your way. If she returns your smile, you don’t notice it. To John, you simply duck your head and follow him out the door, letting him help you up onto the horse without a word. 

If it bothers him that you refuse to speak to him, he doesn’t show it. 

It’s so many steps back that you might as well be back where you started. Maybe even further back, a voyage gone so wrong that when you look over your shoulder, you can’t make heads or tails of where you came from. The trees from the other side of the trail never look quite the same. 

If you could open your mouth and say it, you would. If you knew he’d listen. But you don’t think John is that kind of man. Against the gold of the setting sun, he cuts a figure from times of yore. He speaks plain while you tend to speak in fricatives and bilabial stops, incapable of enunciating the words. 

You feel like a wound on the world. Getting it wrong again and again. 

It’s an old pain, one that started back when you were too small to hold it all. Now, you’ve grown large enough to hold it, though it holds you back in turn. You remember your parents studiously ignoring first creation like some noxious cloud billowing from the chimney. There’d been too many children for them to care about the runt. Shipped off to your aunt’s and uncle’s just for the cycle to repeat itself. 

It’s an old grief, this one, friendly because it nudges at your hips when you brush by, striking in the blue-green. And when it burns, it burns.

“John, I—” you say when he helps you down back at the house. 

He stares down at you, waiting you out. Your mouth goes dry, the truth beyond your grasp again. Your heart aches when his brows furrow and the lines around his eyes crease again, frustration welling beneath the surface. 

You understand. It sits under your skin too. 

"Go inside," he says instead when you don't go on. "I'll bring in the horses and start supper."

Your God sits at the edge of the bed, wholly lacking praise. It’s not His fault that it’s been awhile. These days, you can hardly muster up the energy to say hello. You gargle saltwater before you bathe and scrub your skin free of blood, waiting for the next morning to come.

And you think, lying on your side while John sleeps on the other side of the bed, wouldn’t it be lovely to get it right now, rather than in retrospect?

[vxnuslogy]

— a reason. ft aventurine

— warnings: slight cursing and violence and spoilers for the new hsr quest

— author's note: this is very long and very much a giant word vomit. first work in hsr is aventurine, i fear favoritism is real.

‘everything happens for a reason.’

aventurine has never felt so sick and tired of that phrase. something about it makes his fists clench from beneath the table and stomach flip and twist uncomfortably from within.

if everything happens for a reason, then what was the reason behind his clan’s massacre? what was the reason for the stirring in his guts whenever he looked in the mirror? what was the reason behind all of his fortune now turned to misfortune?

aventurine hated not knowing the reason.

“and this pretty thing,” jade motioned towards you by her side. standing motionless, back straight and all. “is [name]. be sure to play nice, aventurine.”

what was the reason behind your new recruitment? better yet, why were you placed as his new assistant? the last time aventurine checked, he was doing perfectly fine. steadily climbing up his rank with his risky gambles and bargaining skills. he couldn't wrap his head around it so he just sighed and accepted it.

“thank you for always looking after me, jade.” his voice carried evident sarcasm but the woman only smiled and pushed you towards his direction. he had to physically stop himself from recoiling from the action and gave you a smile.

“it's a pleasure to meet you, [name].” he held his hand out for you to take. you were hesitating, aventurine noticed. but after a few seconds you slowly slid your hand into his and gave it a firm shake. “the pleasure is all mine, mr. aventurine.”

the blonde man held onto your hand for a moment longer before slipping it away and tucking it behind his back. he surveyed your form making you want to squirm under such a gaze, and he noticed.

“let's be good friends.”

—

working with aventurine was strange, not that you didn't expect it. you spent the past six months running around the IPC from one office to another carrying mountains of papers and constantly picking up calls from the communication device in your ear. other times, you'll be out and about trailing aventurine like a lost duckling when you need to accompany him to missions that require him to be physically present.

honestly, working for the stoneheart will eventually give you an early death from a heart attack. not only is his risky gambling habits very concerning, his way of speaking wasn't exactly everyone's cup of tea. more often than not you’re needed to play as a peacemaker, the middle ground of negotiations to prevent any physical fights from starting.

but it wasn't as bad as you'd assume. you clock in around 9 in the morning and clock out at 5 in the afternoon. sometimes if certain tasks require you for overtime, you'll clock out at around 8 or 9 at night max. all the work aventurine assigns to you aren't all that difficult to handle as well. just simple reports that need to be proofread so he won't have to read over them multiple times, scheduling interviews, picking up calls and informing him of his new missions, and if the situation calls for it, you play as a spy to gather information.

overall aventurine was a good boss.

today was like any other tuesday morning. you clock in just before 9, get your coffee and another cup for your boss, pick up the last reports from the strategic investment department, and then make your way into aventurine’s office to brief him on his schedule.

his office was on the fancier ends, no surprise there as he was one of the ten stonehearts. your shoes clicking when they met the marbled floors, your eyes skimmed through the reports, trying to guess which proposal will be approved or disapproved. when you reached a familiar door, you fixed your hair and readjusted the insignia pinned to your vest. an aventurine stone, just like your boss.

you knock thrice -short, short and long- before you hear a muffled voice tell you to come in.

“good morning, mr. aventurine.” you greet with a slight bow as normal. “as punctual as ever, [name].” raising your head you nod towards topaz’s direction in acknowledgment before making your way to his desk. “here are all the reports from the last mission. i’ve read through all of them and made sure everything is in order.” placing the papers on the table, he dropped the ones in his current hand before taking the new ones, all the while, you place down his coffee which he gladly took.

“you aren't overworking them, have you, aventurine?” topaz inquired, crossing both her arms over her chest. “what kind of boss do you take me for friend? a bad one? i can assure you my assistant is in good hands.” the blonde man chipped in, his fingers flipping from one page to another as you busied yourself trying to organize the scattered reports on his table. feeling topaz's gaze, you give her a slight smile and nod, confirming that aventurine is in fact, was a good boss.

she just sighed and shook her head. motioning for you to come over, you look to aventurine who gave you a nod in turn. you walked towards topaz -feeling the searing stare of aventurine burn through the back of your head- as she took out a flash drive and handed it to you.

“this is the recording of the last meeting in regards to the mission you're tasked with. since you were still in pier port, we started without you.”

“how cruel of you, to start such an important meeting without even waiting for me.”

ah yes, the pier port incident. you smiled wearily as your shoulder slumped when you remembered what happened. you shake your head in amusement of the memory.

“thank you topaz,” you break the silence, like you always do. “i’ll be sure to look over it today.” she smiled at you in appreciation before turning her back on you and waving goodbye.

“well, that was all i came for. catch you two later.”

once the door clicked shut and the sounds of footsteps getting fainter and fainter, you took it as a sign to turn back to your boss who was already looking at you.

“is something the matter, sir?” you ask. he took off his glasses with a hum and turned his attention back to the papers he was reading. “be sure to give me a summarized report of the meeting before you go home.” you nod and take a seat on the couch in his office and boot up the laptop on the coffee table. you've always wondered when it suddenly appeared in his office, you were 98% sure it wasn't there when you first started working but aventurine always said that's it been there the entire time.

you shake the thought out of your mind and shift into work mode. hours seem to pass by in the blink of an eye before you heard aventurine call out to you. “i’m sorry mr. aventurine, i'm afraid i didn't hear you.” you heard him sigh and repeat his question. “i said, why did you join the IPC? actually, no, that's not what i want to know.”

when you looked up from the laptop in front of you, your boss had taken a seat across from you. you felt your heart thumping in nervousness.

“what exactly did you do to pique jade’s interest?”

frozen. you felt frozen on your spot. fingers stopping midway from pressing onto the keys. those beautiful eyes you've slowly grown accustomed to seeing unfiltered from his glasses, they make your heart and pulse beat in an unfamiliar rhythm.

“i come from a well-off family.” you start, suddenly feeling conscious of your background. “my parents have worked closely with the stonehearts, i suppose miss jade wanted to continue the diplomatic relationship between my family and the IPC.”

“is that the reason why you're here now?”

you simply nod even though you weren't so sure if that really was the reason.

“let me ask you another question.”

letting out a startled noise when the laptop in your lap suddenly close with a gloved hand sitting on top of it, you stare at aventurine's purple eyes that had rings of teal, something so uniquely him that you couldn't help but get lost in them. he took the laptop from your grasp and set it on the coffee table as he leaned both his arms on his legs.

“do you like working under me?”

the question caught you off guard and it showed with how the corner of aventurine’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. hiding behind a closed fist and clearing your throat, you pray that your voice wouldn't waver as you answer.

“i do.” you peaked towards his directions and he didn't seem satisfied with your answer so you list out all the reasons why you like working with him. “despite your… questionable habits, i’ve come to grow used to them as time goes on.” a fond smile made its way to your lips when you dug around your mind trying to find your memories that had aventurine in them, only to realize that he was in all of them.

“i’ve come to enjoy all your little shenanigans in missions.”

“i'll have you know, calling your boss’ plans “shenanigans” could lead to your bonus being cut by a few percent.” he huffed like a child as he decided to just sit back and cross his arms over his chest and raise his chin at you. you chuckle at the action and continue.

“ever since i was a child, i have always wanted to travel the cosmos. but since i’m the only child to my mother and father, my childhood, teenage years, and now adulthood is centered around business and trade. going out on missions with you to different planets, they heal that little part of me that wished to travel.”

“but sometimes, i truly believe that you want me to die from a heart attack.” you hear him snicker from under his breath as he fixes the watch on his wrist. “i know that as a gambler taking risks is just a part of it but aeons, do they scare me to death sometimes.”

“if i knew you cared about me so much, maybe i would tone it down a bit!” there was a playful undertone to his voice as he talked to you. you let out a laugh and shake your head. “no offense sir, but i sincerely doubt that.”

“you wouldn't be the boss i've grown accustomed to if you didn't do your risky gambles.”

something flickered in aventurine's eyes, you were sure of it. but before you could find out what it was he suddenly stood up, putting on his usual glasses and giving you a closed eyed smile.

“well, that was all what i wanted to ask you.” you wanted to ask something in return, but you never had the chance to even get a word out when he was already halfway out the door. “be sure to finish that summary before the day ends. leave it at my desk as usual.”

and just like that, the office door clicked shut.

—

“if i told you the reason, that'd be the same as revealing a trade secret.”

aventurine remembered jade's word. how could he not when they repeated in his mind like a broken record.

after he left his office, it felt like he suddenly went back in time. it just had been roughly a month after you were given the position as his assistant and aventurine wasted no moment at the end of that friday afternoon to dash in jade's office and ask her the question: why were you his assistant.

aventurine scoffed at jade's response while she only smiled. clicking his tongue in annoyance as the woman led him in circles when he kept asking. what was the reason? was it that hard to answer?

the next few days weren't necessarily the best. he was like a walking ticking time bomb, ready to blow up at any second. everyone in the IPC kept their distance from him -not like they didn't keep their distance to begin with, some started whispering among the hallways about his potential termination after a very big gamble he almost, almost, lost. what ticked him off the most, was you.

he felt so frustrated at you because why were you so damn perceptive. those past few days, the papers that were messily and hastily thrown on the giant table in his office were suddenly organized into neat piles, all held together with different colored paperclips and a sticky note of when each pile was due to be submitted. how every morning you wouldn't fail to knock thrice at his door -short, short and long- at exactly 3 minutes before 9 in the morning with two cups of coffee in your hands. or the times where you would take one good look at him and start lighting up the candles in his office that you started buying for him because you noticed he'd be slightly less stressed when the room didn't smell like fear and insecurity.

what he hated the most was even after his little temper tantrum the past few days began to subdue, you still continued your almost doting actions towards him.

when did he start anticipating your methodical knocks 3 minutes before 9? when did he suddenly grow disappointed whenever someone knocked on his door and it wasn't you? topaz had suddenly grown confused when he suddenly came into the meeting room with a cup of coffee in his hand and when she asked about it he would simply say, “well, my darling assistant bought it for me!”. the multiple scented candles in his office that burned too quickly so at the end of every month he'd have you go out and buy some more.

when did he start using his left hand -the hand he left bare from rings, the same hand that shook in fear of losing- to guide the small of your back away from the crowd whenever you would accompany him to missions?

when did he start taking off the glasses that hid the eyes he wanted to sell to someone else?

it was so confusing yet so simple at the same time. aventurine had grown fond of his little assistant. he has grown fond of you. and that was all there is to it. after all, why would he go out of his way to get that customized brooch that you wear every single day when you come to work if he hadn't. how his chest would swell with pride whenever you spoke with higher positioned officers in the IPC and how they would avert their gaze because of the pin on your vest.

and he knows that you know of his sudden change in demeanor. you just never say a word for his sake. how he went from being a distant and acquainted boss to a friend. an actual friend. and that was supposed to be it. he did say in your first meeting that you should be good friends, but how was he supposed to keep his words after the little stunt you pulled at pier port?

it was a simple mission, negotiate and get the upper hand, nothing more and certainly nothing less. like any other mission, he was accompanied by you and some other people under the IPC. everything was going smoothly until one of them just had to open their mouth and talk shit about his already dreadful past just because he had forgotten to put on his glasses. he truly has grown a bit too comfortable with you around, and he didn't like it.

“what's a sigonian scum like you doing in the IPC? why don't you crawl back into the hole you came from?”

he just sighed. shaking his head, hiding his left hand behind his back, shielding it away from everyone's gaze as it shook with anger, disgust, and the tantalizing question of why.

why did he have to go through this?

and then you did something out of the ordinary.

the sweet assistant of aventurine suddenly pulled out the gun situated on your hip and pointed it directly to the man’s forehead, a deathly glimmer shining in your eyes as your index threateningly ghosted over the trigger.

“if you do not take back what you said just now, i won't hesitate to put a bullet or two in that empty skull of yours.”

then you started walking, and he started backing up. you didn't stop until the man was standing on the edge of the port, one simple push and he'd be drowned in the vast icy oceans. that is, if he wasn't already drowning in the fury of your eyes.

aventurine felt his body move in instinct. his left hand holding your wrist and slowly putting it down at your side. he gave a half assed apology about your behavior and ushered you to your original destination. this time, he kept his hand on your back, specifically near the gun on your hips to make sure you didn't point it at someone else.

“do they always speak to you that way?” you ask barely above whisper. eyes strained one the road you were walking one while his bore into your very being. “i’ve grown used to it. be sure to not point that gun of yours to any potential partners, m’kay?” to prove his point, he tapped the gun on your hips with his finger and you just sighed. a simple yes stumbling past your lips before being enveloped by silence.

aventurine was sure. he was very, very, sure that was the last nail in the coffin, and the answer to the question he's been asking.

the entire day, you stuck by his side. glued to the fucking hip and no one dared to utter a single word about him. the meeting went smoothly and when everyone was preparing to go home, he called you over and said:

“that stunt you pulled earlier, stays between us, alright, friend?”

and you simply nod in understanding.

you carry your bags onto the ship to take you back home only to be taken aback when aventurine comes to steal it away from your hands. “take it as thanks for earlier.” he remembered that look of shock before it turned into something else -what it was he didn't know because you turned away before he could even fathom what of it made his stomach do flips.

even when he came to drop off your things at your personal room, he found himself lingering by the door. watching you unpack your things as he stood idly. you would eventually turn to him and ask if he needed anything more, and out of curiosity he asked: “why did you point your gun at that man?” he will never forget the look of puzzlement on your face when he asked.

“because he said something unpleasant to you. as your assistant, i can't allow others to simply trample on your name.”

he spent the night staring up at the ceiling while laying on his bed. your words mingling in with jade's in his mind, trying to fit the two like puzzle pieces to ease the racing of his heart and uneasiness of his mind. he didn't like assuming things. a conjecture such as this would cost him too much, but tonight he indulged himself in the thought.

picking up his phone and messaging jade, he laid his forearm over his eyes and sighed.

“this room smells horrible…” he muttered. the strong scent of chlorine made his mind spin. making him miss the scented candles you had slowly but surely placed inside his office. he'd grown so fond of them that he'd bought some of his own to place around his home. “ah… i think i'm screwed.”

—

it has been approximately 3 system hours since you arrived in penacony, and roughly a few system hours before aventurine's eventual demise.

topaz had just finished speaking with the trailblazer and their companions. when they had left you stood next to her and stared at the giant prison turned hotel.

“you… don't seem too worried.” topaz said, you felt her gaze but you didn't turn to look at her, instead you just gazed into nothing. “it would be a lie if i said i wasn't worried.” you were most definitely worried, terrified even. no matter how many times aventurine does his high risk gambles, you will never get used to it, not when it causes ghostly hands to squeeze at your heart at the sheer thought of him losing. the thought of losing him.

“but i trust miss jade's judgment. i trust aventurine.”

roughly a day before his departure to penacony, curiosity got the best of you and you stuck around the meeting room in secret when aventurine stayed behind.

“what can i do for you, aventurine?” jade's voice slightly echoed in the empty room. your hands slightly shook in fear of being caught, but you were just so curious about what has been going on with your boss that you couldn't fight the urge to eavesdrop a bit. “oh nothing much. i take it you received my message?” you assumed the woman nodded because aventurine continued. “i must admit, your little plan worked. but is it really necessary?”

jade stood up from her seat, her heels clicked on the marble floor and aventurine followed her until they were by the door.

“well, it's better to stay safe than sorry. and besides, this doesn't count as a complaint, right?”

you heard him chuckle. somehow, even though you hid behind a pillar you felt his stare bore into your being. you could almost imagine those purple eyes that had rings of teal in them that made you weak in the knees.

“no, not necessarily. i could never consider it as a complaint.” he took a moment before asking another question. “but i want to hear it from you, friend. why did you assign [name] as my assistant?”

“it's rather simple really,” jade replied. “you need a reason to leave penacony alive, no? i simply made it easier for you.”

you? the reason for aventurine's will to live? it seemed rather silly. how you, a simple assistant, be so much of importance to someone like aventurine, but with how topaz came to hold the hand that gripped the brooch he had given you, you thought otherwise.

this half a year you've been working with him, you like to think that you've gotten to know him very well.

how when you stood beside him as he sat himself in another gamble, he would always lay his left hand on his lap, fingers curled into fists so tight you were afraid his palms were bleeding.

how he always hid his “weaker” hand behind his back in dire situations to hide his fear.

or when he would always take off his glasses in his office whenever you were there. and that laptop you were 98% sure wasn't there when you started working? aventurine apparently got it specifically for you so you could work in his office.

but what you were most sure of was:

“aventurine doesn't make deals he knows he won't benefit from. he'll win, he always does. he'll come back, i know it.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[flametrashiraarchive]

Reader teaching Haganezuka how to eat that kittykat and fuck it properly because we all know he's a virgin still uwu

(bonus points for size kink, implied age gap [reader 20s])

(bonus points and cookies for Haganezuka being so focused, listening very intently to the puss eating lesson but gets super into it and tunes out reader as he begins to figure what to do and he can't stop himself from overstimmulating reader, which has reader smacking his head so he finally lets go)

Argh yes okay here we go! I love this beautiful nutjob and I got carried away. (I left the age of the reader ambiguous because personally I am old as shit, but I think I get cookies still for the overstimmulating?)

Also... I really want to write a part 2. I want us to take care of him after the events of season 3 because I just know that once the adrenaline wore off this poor man was hurting so bad.

Anyway, enjoy!

UNBREAKABLE, UNQUENCHABLE.

F!Reader x Hotaru Haganezuka

Content Guidance: cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, overstimulation, not stopping when reader tells him to (reader is still into it though)

Minors DNI.

"I don't make swords for civilians," the swordsmith said, his voice deep and his tone final. He turned away from you, continuing his journey down the mountain path, the soft thud of his footsteps accompanied by the gentle tinkling of the windchimes hanging from his hat.

Your heart sank for a moment before you steeled your resolve and renewed your determination. It was never going to be easy and you'd mentally prepared for rejection. This swordsmith was infamous for his unbending resolve and temper. 

Running a step ahead of him, you turned to stare into the wide bug-eyes of his hyottoko mask. "Please, Haganezuka... I need a nichirin blade."

He continued walking as if he expected to simply pass through you. "No."

"But it's the only thing I can use to kill demons."

He paused. "Demon slayers kill demons. Not civilians. No sword for you."

"I am a demon slayer, just not an official one." You brace yourself for a telling off. Usually whenever you admitted to going rogue you were met with lectures about the proper way to do things and told to leave things to the demon slayer corps— but their numbers were dwindling and you'd never quite figured out breathing styles well enough for your sensei to agree to send you to final selection. Still, hacking and slashing got the job done with the right blade. "Please, Haganezuka. I had a sword with your stamp on it before. It was the best blade I've ever had and—"

"Where did you get it?" His voice was strained as if forced between gritted teeth.

"I found it..."

"SOMEONE LOST MY SWORD?"

"Yes... maybe, but I found it. It served me well and I really want another."

He turned his face away from you slightly, making the windchimes ring. "What happened to it? Did you lose the sword too?"

"No, it broke."

You could've sworn he was vibrating. "m-m-m-m-m-m-my SWORD???"

The elongated lips of the mask poked your cheek as he stepped right up against you. His haori concealed the true size and density of his body, but with him standing so close, you could tell he was muscular and incredibly strong. He was also apparently unhinged, but then again, you reasoned, what was life without a little zest?

“YOU BROKE MY SWORD??”

You'd been pre-warned that his swords were the key to winning him over, so you kept your voice level as you emptied your arsenal. "Your sword was the finest sword I have ever seen. It was an honor to wield it, Mr. Haganezuka. Not even the blade of a hashira could compare to the sublime craftsmanship of that sword. I dream about that sword." You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the heat of his body pulse against your palm as you added in a lower, more sultry tone. "And I've dreamed about meeting the artist who forged such a perfect sword for a very long time."

His chest rose sharply as he pushed out the only response he could manage; a strained, breathless grunt.

Taking his broad, calloused hand in yours, you gazed into the eyes of his mask. "Mr. Haganezuka... please make me a sword?"

The trees swayed overhead, the sigh of the leaves the only break in the utter silence between you and the swordsmith.

"Mister Haganezuka?"

The windchimes tinkled. "Tell me your name."

You told him, and he repeated it back, slowly and carefully as if trying it out.

The mask's mouth moved to your nose as he stared you in the eyes. "Mine is Hotaru. Do you need a husband?"

"I... uhh..." you stammered, suddenly feeling very warm as the heat of his burly frame pulsed against you. "Do I need a..."

He carefully removed the hyottoko mask and with it, removed every particle of air from your lungs. Ravenette hair threaded with silver, amber eyes which glowed like the forge, dark, severe eyebrows which slanted downward as he awaited your answer. He was... beautiful, treading the fine line between painfully pretty and achingly rugged.

"Yes." You said firmly. "Yes I do need a husband."

-------------------------------------------------------

Two days later you were married to Hotaru and about to spend your first night at the Swordsmith Village. Ordinarily, outsiders had to undergo a lengthy initiation process to ensure the village remained a secret, but the village chief fast-tracked your application and damn near pulled you through the gates himself.

It seemed he was just as keen as you were to get your marriage to Hotaru underway. In fact, the whole village pitched in to ensure your wedding went ahead quickly and without a snag.

“Thank you for marrying Hotaru,” the village chief whispered while you were in the middle of your vows. “You have no idea the relief you have brought to the village. We were beginning to lose hope. He has never shown any interest in anything besides swords. Once Hotaru finds something to focus his attention on it's nigh impossible to tear him away from it.”

Before you knew it, you were a wife, married to a man so introverted he spent the majority of your wedding day hiding behind a tree, peering out at you as you chatted to the villagers. In fact, he only came out from behind the tree when someone walked over to congratulate him on the marriage, and even then it was only to find a different tree to hide behind.

"Hotaru..." you sighed adoringly as you slipped away from the crowd to stand beside your husband in his hiding spot. "Are you unhappy?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm happy."

"Ah... You just prefer to be alone?"

"Yes. With you. I want to be alone with you."

He was a strange man, but he melted your heart with every other word. And Gods, he was beautiful. You yearned for him like no other. You craved him.

"Husband, for my wedding gift, will you—"

"No sword for you," he said firmly. "No fighting demons. No risking your life. You are my wife now and it's my job to protect you, even if that means protecting you from yourself. So no sword."

You couldn't help but smile. It seemed Hotaru's dedication to being a husband was as intense as his dedication to smithing.

"I promise, no more demon slaying, but I wasn't going to ask about the sword."

"Oh?"

You leaned in and whispered against his ear. "I was going to ask you to take me to bed."

His orange eyes snapped to your lips as though he couldn't quite believe what you had said. He cleared his throat and tried to speak but only managed a choked grunt.

Silence descended between you until he finally found his voice. "I don't know how to do… those things."

"I can teach you."

He didn't speak. He simply took your hand in his and led you away from the wedding party and deep into the woods. After a minute he looked back at you and picked you up, carrying you against his burly chest.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"A place where we can be alone. They won't find us."

He carried you a little further, to a small, seemingly abandoned work shed. Inside there was a small forge and smithing tools, and a small living area with a bed and basic amenities. The air was thick with the lingering tang of smoke and molten steel.

"Is... this our home?"

Hotaru shook his head. "This is where I come to work in peace when I really need to concentrate.''

He set you down carefully beside the bed and waited. Except, he wasn't simply "waiting." Hotaru's eyes drank you in, gazing at you with soft reverence. He was so big, so intimidating and by all accounts completely lacking any kind of social skills, but you had won his heart entirely. He was softer than molten steel for you, and more than willing for you to hone and hammer him into the shape you desired him to be.

"Teach me," he said. "I'm ready."

You nodded, your heart thrumming with the anticipation of what was to come. "Okay. Would you like to use your fingers? Your tongue? Or your cock?"

"Yes. All. Teach me how to use them."

Marrying this strange man had definitely been one of your better decisions.

Closing the space between you, you wrapped your arms around your husband's neck and gazed into those fiery eyes. "Well, we should start with a kiss. Do you know how to do that?"

His brow knitted. "Yes of course I know how to kiss."

"Good. Then kiss me, Hotaru."

He leaned down and pecked your cheek.

"Was that good?" An expectant look lingered on his face, faltering by the second. "I... that's what you want, isn't it? Do you want more? I can give you more."

Gods, the man was completely uninitiated.

Still, you couldn't help but smile as he eagerly peppered your cheek with little kisses; dozens of them, soft and dry and so sweet. His brow remained furrowed in concentration throughout, and you remained patient as he expressed his devotion. But when they inched closer to the corner of your mouth you turned your face to press your lips to his. 

The moment your lips touched, he froze, eyes wide as you gently and slowly pulled him into your kiss.

His lips were still and stiff beneath yours as he adjusted to the new sensation. And then they softened. Gradually, tentatively, he followed your lead. His lips crept across yours, careful and slow like he was learning the steps to a new dance and didn't want to tread on you.

You licked the seam between his lips, easing your tongue through the gap as he inhaled sharply and he brought his hands to your waist.

And then something inside him snapped. A restraint cut loose.

He wound his arms around you, lifting you off the ground. The strength in his arms was breathtaking; forged by decades of tireless labor, and now wholly dedicated to you as he pushed you down onto the bed and slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring this newfound pleasure.

Your kisses awakened a voracious appetite in him and before long he was devouring you with heated passion, barely giving you time to breathe. It was as if he had gone his entire life without intimacy, but once the dam had cracked it was impossible to stop the flood.

His tongue stroked yours again and again as his tough hands skated up the length of your legs. When he reached your knees he granted your tingling lips a reprieve, kissing your throat as he pushed up the skirt of your wedding dress and squeezed the tender flesh of your thighs with a wanton groan. 

"My pretty wife," he growled as you shifted beneath him, craving his touch. "Tell me how to make you feel good."

You parted your legs, pulling your skirt up all the way to reveal yourself to him. A sharp intake of breath expanded Hotaru's chest as he looked down at your pussy. A muscle in his cheek danced and his grip on your thighs tightened as his eyes filled with a look of pure hunger.

"Do you want to touch me?" you asked, your breaths coming in shallow bursts as anticipation coiled in your belly.

His answer was barely a whisper. "Very much." He swallowed hard. "May I?"

"Please... please do," you whispered, your need for him drowning out the rest of the world. It was just you and Hotaru, and nothing else mattered. 

The sound of his shaking breaths was the only break in the silence. His hand left your thigh and he gently brushed his fingertips along the edge of your folds. 

“Soft,” Was the only word which emerged from his lips as he stared and explored the shape of you. His orange eyes were focused, his perpetually furrowed brow somehow even more severe. Hotaru was lost in concentration, entirely focused on mapping the curves and ridges of your cunt.

You lay there on the bed, letting him find his bearings. His gentle exploratory touches sent shivers through your body. Those rough, calloused fingers touched you with such care and attentiveness. His eyes snapped back to yours every time you made a sound or breathed a little harder.

Hotaru was a devoted craftsman– his hands finely tuned tools– and they were dedicated entirely to your pleasure. He found your entrance and pushed a finger into you, watching intently as your pussy clenched around it.

You sighed in pleasure. "Gods, Hotaru, you're making me so wet…"

"Is that good? Am I making you happy?"

"Yes. That's good."

"Hm," he muttered, as if filing the information away. "A wet wife is a happy wife."

A sharp gasp escaped you as he nudged the hood of your clit with his thumb and his lips curved into a smile. 

"You like this, don't you?" He hummed pensively and circled your clit, spreading your wetness.

Squirming beneath him, you nodded as the heat on your cheeks blossomed. "Yes, Hotaru. Keep doing that."

Gods, those rough hands. They sent jolts of pleasure surging through your body as he lavished attention on your clit, fascinated by the way it swelled as he worked with dogged determination. He added another thick finger to your cunt, stretching you deliciously.

A quiet groan emerged from him as you began to fuck yourself on his fingers, hard and fast as he rubbed your clit. He watched you intently, his lips parting in sync with your cry as your first orgasm of the night rocked through your body.

"Oh look at you, my pretty wife with your sensitive little bead." He moved down your body, lowered his head and nuzzled your clit with his nose. 

"Ho-taru…"

The wet heat of his mouth closed over your tender bud, pulling another cry from your lips. 

"Ah! You like that too," he murmured as he knelt between your knees, his long, dark hair spread like strands of seaweed across your thighs. 

"Yes. D-do it again… please… use your tongue."

“My tongue?”

You sucked in a breath as he licked your clit with the tip of his tongue, tasting your essence. 

He groaned. "Mm~ fuck, this is good." 

"More… please…" 

In response to your demand, he raised his hand to press his thumb against your lower lip. "Show me how to lick you well."

Gods, this man. You took his thumb into your mouth, showing him exactly what to do, licking the tip of it as if it was your clit. He groaned as you lapped his thumb, his eyes fluttering shut as his jaw clenched. 

"That feels… huh…" He bit back a groan before burying his face in your pussy and replicating the motion on your clit.

Thank the Gods he has the foresight to take you away from the village, because the sounds he pulled from you were unholy. He was eager and so receptive to your lessons.

Hotaru put everything he had into eating your pussy; the slick, sucking sound of his mouth and his hot, wet tongue accompanied by your desperate cries. With every passing moment his confidence grew, pumping those thick fingers into you and curling them against your walls, his mouth and fingers working in tandem to give you more pleasure than you ever expected. 

As he pleasured you, he ground his hips against the mattress, groaning as he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth. It was too good, too intense. Your senses were flooded with him; the sight of that beautiful man devouring you, the acrid scent of the forge, the lewd wet sound of his mouth on your cunt. And Gods, nothing had ever felt so good before. 

Hotaru was born to forge swords and eat pussy, and he did both with unbreakable focus. 

You sucked his fingers and he sucked your clit, groaning as he voraciously lapped the sensitive nub, driving you higher… higher…

An immense wave of pleasure crashed through you as you reached your peak, the force of your orgasm making your legs tremble. His name tore through you like a cry to the heavens, his answer a soft moan which vibrated through your core as he kept on licking. On and on, lapping at your pulsing clit as you gasped and bucked your hips against his insatiable mouth.

"Ho-taru… you did it… you made me–"

Taking his fingers from your mouth, he slung a heavy arm across your belly and continued eating you out, unrelenting, pulling another choked cry from you. Hotaru was drunk on you, on the taste and the knowledge that he was pleasing you; groaning, grinding his hips against the mattress, breathing in the intoxicating scent of you as he fluttered his tongue over your overstimulated clit.

The village chief had told you his focus was unbreakable, and now that attention was dedicated to your pussy. He was lost in you, wholly devoted to pleasuring you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, torn between needing respite and craving more. 

He propelled you from your second orgasm right into your third. Intense pleasure drove your head back against the pillow as you screamed in ecstasy and torment, your pussy throbbing beneath his lips as your nectar ran down his chin. And still, he licked you with an unquenchable thirst.

"Hotaru! Ho- oh it's too much.” 

He hit a spot inside your cunt which made the world shatter around the pair of you, sending you careening into another climax which turned your blood to liquid steel. “Too much! I can't!" You swatted at his forehead, smacking him with your fingertips as you wriggled out from beneath him. 

Your husband stared at you, dazed and breathless, his lips glistening with your slick juices. "Did… did I do it right?"

You gasped for air, trembling down to your bones. “You did it perfectly, Hotaru.” 

He pulled you into him and kissed you. You licked the taste of your desire from his lips, swallowing the low groan which rolled from his chest. His lips caressed yours with deep, undying passion, his hand dropping to the bulge tenting his hakama trousers.

“Let me take care of you now,” you whispered into his ear as your hand joined his, cupping his cock and making him moan. “Lie back for me, my love.”

He did as you asked without protest. It was true that you wanted to take care of him and give him as much pleasure as he had given you, but in a more practical sense, being on top of him allowed you to have control. You were already so fucked out, and from the feel of things–from the girth and weight of it through his trousers– control was definitely going to be necessary.

You stood from the bed and undressed as he gazed up at you, languidly palming his cock in his broad hand and drinking in the sight of you.

“Such a lovely wife,” he whispered, his orange eyes heavy with desire.

“And I have such a handsome husband…” you replied as you undressed him, revealing his big, muscular body inch by firmly hewn inch. He was a mountain of a man, and Gods, there wasn’t a thing you would change about him. “A handsome husband who pleases me well…” You kissed him, gently pushing him back and straddling his hips. “And who makes the very best swords in all the world–”

“Ohh…” He groaned, gripping your hips as you brushed the fat tip of his cock against your pussy. “Say that again.”

“Hm? That you’re the best swordsmith in the world?” You eased the top inch of him in, letting your body adjust to the sensation. “That your swords are works of art?”

“Gods, I want you,” he hissed, baring his teeth and gazing up at you from the pillow. A deep, longing groan emerged from him as you inched your way down his length. “You… you are…so warm… so wet… beautiful.”

You skated your hands over the plain of his abdomen, taking him deeper, your back arching as he stretched you even at that slow pace. When you finally reached the bottom of his shaft, you were breathless, tingling at your core. Hotaru was even less composed than you. 

The swordsmith growled, bending his knees to slide his legs up and down the mattress, fighting the urge to fuck up into you. His cock twitched inside you as you rocked forward to kiss him, your breasts pressed against his burly chest, his rough hands skating up your back. 

“I love you, Hotaru,” you whispered before rocking back to start riding his cock. 

“I–ngggh ohh… ohhh!” he groaned, eyes widening, fingers digging into your hips with bruising ferocity as you bounced on top of him. His control slipped almost immediately. 

He fell apart, groaning and thrusting up into you with a loud moan. His eyes screwed shut, his face flushed scarlet, and he trembled beneath you as his cum flooded into you, spilling out onto the base of his cock.

Pulling you down into an embrace, Hotaru held you in his arms, his heart thrumming beneath your ear. His big, broad hand stroked your back as he kissed the top of your head and his cock softened inside you.

After his breathing returned to normal, he gathered his senses long enough to ask, “Do you need more, my love?”

“I’m more than satisfied,” you said with a smile. 

He was asleep a second later. 

You lay there, pinned by his arms, crushed up against this strange, wonderful man you called your husband, and there was nowhere else you would rather be. 

[sushirrrry]

wrangled

a harry styles one-shot. 14k words. cw: age-gap, sexual content, spitting, spanking, squirting, dirty talk, humiliation kink, coarse language, dom/sub kink

Forte Ranch.

Kettle Falls, Washington.

June Forte is the 24 year old daughter of Travis Forte– the owner of the largest bison ranch in eastern Washington. When she returned home from college, her wishes of becoming a teacher in the area land her with a few different jobs– one that also includes the family business.

It's not lost on her that when she starts noticing that a superbly handsome, older ranch-hand who introduces himself in a deep-posh accent as Harry Styles, that she seems to lose a bit of focus on the picture: make enough money to leave Kettle Falls for good.

But, the older man seems to keep running into her no matter how many times she tries to leave. Maybe, she recognizes, that it isn't a coincidence.

When Harry and June are one day left alone, the tensions are higher than ever. Once June gets a taste, her intuition starts to let her know that maybe seeing the dimples underneath the brim of the Stetson is easier to lean into rather than run from.

He's not letting her run away that easy.

"Goddamnit, Fury– let's go!"

She pulled at the lead; the rope pulled at her hands a bit when the horse continued to stand his ground, obviously more powerful than her.

A quick sigh, a puff of air to move some of the hair off of her face. June couldn't help but groan at the horse's stubbornness that kept him inside the confines of his stall.

She had a lesson in an hour now. Not that it would have been a huge deal— the family that she taught for were very laid back, but her need to follow a schedule made Fury's outburst quite annoying as it would take a bit of time to get him out now.

The horse-riding lessons that she had been giving were supplementing the cash flow through the summer. Next year, she would be starting a position as a teacher at one of the local schools in the area. June had gone to school in Seattle; it was the biggest culture shock for her when she arrived in the big city.

From growing up on the ranch to moving to the big city with just what she could fit in her dad's pick-up–she had loved every moment of it. She loved seeing the way that the traffic built up everywhere in the early mornings, the honking horns, the sleepy travelers in the coffee shops every morning.

It was a learning experience that she had been blessed with. But, in reality, her heart stayed in the eastern mountains; the smell of the fresh air every morning gave her such a high that she hadn't been expecting to miss with her whole heart.

Living on this ranch, in this small town, had been in her heart this whole time. She hadn't recognized how much of her she still had to learn.

When you're young, you want so bad to leave. Then, you see the rest of the world, and you find home so much more appealing. It feels secure, it feels like a place that you can come back to when you're finished exploring.

It's a place to relax. A place to replenish. A place to house your soul.

Now, she say her fighting with her horse who seemed to have the upper-hand.

"Fury, if you don't come on," She rubbed the horse's nose, giving him a look as he tilted up his head quickly. "You're being so stub—"

"Might wanna give him something to entice him."

The sound behind her makes June jump with a fright, a gasp escaping as she had been lost in her own world. There's a man standing on the opposite side of her now, unlocking the gate of the horse stall. She hadn't noticed him before, so she wondered how long he had been standing there watching her struggle with the ropes her hands. 

A chestnut mare stands, grunts softly in front of him as he looks back at her. June recognized the man, which didn't seem to happen often. The farm has lots of people coming through, many stay for weeks– months, maybe. The summer months are preparing for the winter; she knew that a lot more came around at this time of the year.

But she recognized him.

There wasn't a person who wouldn't.

The man's accent threw her for a moment– not realizing if she had heard him speak before. She mustn't have, or she'd know the low drawl of a foreign tongue.

But there's a few certain men that have been around for a bit. This man, in particular, she thought. He wears his hair longer, a bit down on his ears. He pushes it back into his Stetson, the chocolate curls have grown every time she sees him closer.

He has a soft scruff along his jawline that was really only visible up close; a white tank top that has seen better days when it was a pure white on the rack. June lets her eyes wander for a moment before she sees that he notices, a hint of pink painting her cheeks as she watches that he seems to go on about his day without another word.

Not to mention: if you stared at him in the heat of the eastern Washington sun, it was entirely too close to see the shade of green that his eyes shone. They practically became translucent at how luminous they became.

June was a bit taken; her hands adjust on the lead as she watched the man throw a bridle over the large mare's nose. He clicked his tongue to get her to follow, the mare following him out of the stall easily. June watched at how easy it was; she knew Fury was a bit hard-headed to begin with, so it couldn't have been that easy no matter what he had said to her.

As the man started walking away just a bit, Fury took a step forward which helped June aid him out of the stall. It threw her for a moment, her body moving forward to help lead the horse where he needed. He followed, though a bit slowly as he shook his head when she pulled in the lead towards the saddling. 

"See, told you," The man spoke once again, nodding his head a bit towards his mare, "Men are always enticed by pretty ladies."

He had taken the saddle off of the stand, throwing it over the mare's back. June's eyes stared at the way his muscles popped through the sleeveless shirt, pushing the heavy riding saddle up further on the horses back.

"Going for a ride?" The man spoke again, watching as June hooked Fury up to stand so that he was secured. June hadn't spoken yet, feeling her voice caught in her throat over the way that he had been a bit chatty with her.  Her eyes drifted over to him, knowing he had been talking to her again which elicited a response.

She bit her lip, pulling up on the loops of her jeans that hugged around the curve of her hips.

"No, I teach, actually." June commented, brushing down Fury's neck before pushing some of his mane out of his eyes.

The horse chewed a bit, making her smile as his lips tried to nip at her arm. "Have a lesson soon. He's the best with kids, gives them a hard time but it's good for them to learn how to be a bit more assertive. He listens when you're real strict with him, just not well."

"Really all the qualities of a man, huh?" The man smirked; they stood next to each other at the station before June looked over and he had started to move towards her. His hand outreached, his eyes truly on her now as they became closer with each step he took. "Harry Styles."

June swallowed back, her hand moving out towards his as they locked together in a moment. "June Forte. You're a worker here?"

Harry's eyes shift for a moment when he notices the deep blue of her eyes and the familiarity of her generational smile. His tongue flicks out to run over his bottom lip as he lets his eyes drag over her a moment. June squirms under his vision, her breath halted as he takes his hand away and their touch loosens.

"And this is your ranch, I presume." He speaks, his words standing in the air.

June shrugs her shoulders up as if his comment didn't mean much. "Not mine– well, my family's, so technically will be mine or my siblings someday. My dad's dream was to own it, and I guess now he does. Was my grandads, and my great-grandads. He built it, and it's just a family heirloom now. But yeah– we live up there."

Harry's breath baited for a moment, a small scoff of a chuckle leaving his lips as he moved back towards the mare. The mare stomped on the ground, his hand moving to comfort her outburst.

"Guess I don't need to be flirting with the ranch owner's daughter, then. May be a conflict of interest."

June raised a brow at his words, feeling a hotness come across her neck as she moved to throw the big brush through Fury's chestnut coat. She faced away from him now, her head turning to look over her shoulder at the way he continued to smirk at her.

For the first time in a while, June's sharp tongue felt dull. She didn't know what to say as she felt some hair fall into her face as she managed to push the heavy brush through the horse's coat.

"Never been a huge rule follower, though." He followed up, pulling the reins of the tacked horse; he walked backwards out of the barn with his eyes on June– the shape of her body only let his eyes fall down and around her curves.

A soft chuckle came from her lips as she heard the clicking of his tongue, guiding the mare out. "Easy, cowboy." She called back, in a surprising quip, "My ranch, my rules."

"So now you're the boss?" He quipped, "giving me mixed signals, June." Harry paused for a moment, giving her a moment to comeback.

"Let's just say I'm pretty close to the guy in charge." June tilted her head, "But I'd say that flirting with the boss's daughter isn't in your best interest if you want to stick around."

June watched the man quickly bite his lip as if he was stopping himself from another remark.

"We'll see about that one." He called back, his boots crunching on the gravel once again, his eyes staying on her even when leading the large horse out of the barn. "Might be the opposite effect if I'm lucky."

June bit her lip at the thought of him– wondering if he had seen her before. Her legs adjusted just at the thought of his low, raspy voice. She hasn't heard it before, but now all she could hear was his words in the back of her head.

"Hope you find a four-leaf clover out there, gonna need it." June said back, watching as he moved away, a wink flying back at her.

She huffed, looking at her horse before a shake of her head made her feel a bit dizzy.

Maybe it wasn't the head shake that made her feel that way.

***

The following morning, Fury continued to give June quite a time. He was a stubborn horse, but she knew that he trusted her and vice versa. June never felt that she had a problem with him, he had been her horse for over ten years now.

June grew up with horses, riding and watching them was in her blood. She loved riding and watching people become more comfortable as they rode more. It was a pleasure for her to teach young kids to be comfortable and confident while riding, especially when it taught discipline and hard work.

Nothing about riding horses was easy– she continued to learn that the hard way. It took trust, and lots of effort to make sure that the animal underneath you trusted every part of you. The hardest part was putting your life in their hands. But, it was always worth taking that chance.

He kicked a few times, the young girl that she had for the lesson this morning was mostly scared that she was going to fall off. June reassured her that she would hold his lead, but that she needed to be strong.

"When you're scared, he's going to be scared," June tried to reassure her, watching the young girl— her name was Natasha, she was around eleven. "You have to be in control of him, and he's going to respond to you. But we can end the lesson a bit early if you're feeling some nerves— that's okay, too."

Natasha gave June a look; she was unsure, and June could read all over it. However, Natasha pushed through some of her nerves, which led to June eventually letting go of the reins and letting the girl trot some laps around the outside arena space.

"You got it!" She yelled over, staying on the fence, her eyes lighting up at the girl's excitement over her accomplishments of getting the horse to where she wanted him. "Let's loop around one more time, and then bring it back to the center."

June pushed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. The outside training grounds was a large area of the ranch, covered by trees and small patches of grass. She tucked some hair behind her ear that had fallen out of the messy bun she pulled at the base of her neck.

A small noise caught her attention as she started to make her way to the center of the arena to meet Fury and Natasha. June bit on her lip as she squinted in the early morning sun that was casting over the field down to the bison pasture. The gates had opened, watching the man from earlier in the saddle atop the chestnut mare.

His head turned to check that the smaller bison calves had made their way through to the other side of the fence.

"Shut 'em in!" He yelled, pulling at the reins of his horse before the other ranch-hand pulled at the metal gate on the other side.

The field sat opposite of the smaller training field that had been built for June's benefit; she absolutely loved teaching, loved the elements of getting young riders out on the back of a horse to feel the fresh breeze in their hair. It had been so therapeutic to her growing up when everything felt that it could have fallen apart at any moment— this was her world.

Growing up on the ranch had been a saving grace for her. It was the yin to the yang of the city that she had grown to love. She had never had the opportunity to fall in love with another place like she had with Seattle.

It didn't hurt that these were the kinds of views that she had, either.

June hadn't been paying attention as she heard her name being called; her head whipped around as she watched Fury stomp a few times and start to buck and push the young girl. June watched her expression as she held at the fence, watching the young girl struggle with the large stallion.

"Hold on, Natasha!" June yelled, sitting up on the large fence before she cupped her hands over her mouth, "Pull the reins real hard to the left!"

She could see the fear on the girls face as she tried to brace, tried to do what June had told her to. She wasn't strong enough to manage the horse as her foot slid from the saddle and her body flung to the side and off into the dirt of the ring.

June gasped outwardly with a few curses as she ran towards where the girl was flung off. Fury moved away now that she felt safe enough that she could grab her and move out of the ring. She felt horrible not being to stop it before it started, not reading the language of the horse before it was too late.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" June asked, the young girl sitting up on her elbows as she tried to brush herself off. "You're not hurt, are you? Nothing feels broken?"

She shook her head, the helmet bearing her fall as she seemed to just be a bit more traumatized than hurt. The adrenaline must've been moving through her as they stood up, June helping her as she looked around the ring to notice that the horse had made his way out of the ring through the gate she had opened, ready to lead them out.

"Shit!" June yelled out, her head moving around at an attempt to find the horse that had been trotting away. She tucked the hair behind her ear as she turned to look around.

"I'm so sorry," Natasha started, obviously in shock, "I-I didn't– I got scared."

June turned to the girl, shaking her head profusely. "No, no, sweetie. It's fine– as long as you're okay."

June took Natasha out of the ring, climbing up the fence and over to the grassy knoll. Her hands landed on her hips as she searched around for Fury who had gotten loose.

"Fuck," She whispered under her breath.

She didn't expect him to get so agitated. She hasn't had that happen before, which set her alert on high. Fury was the horse that she trained on, and without him, she couldn't hold onto her lesson schedule.

The next one was in twenty minutes, so she needed to figure out a plan on how to catch him.

The first part of the plan was to find the horse that had seemingly run away and out of the gate. Her attention moved back towards the young girl, who had taken off her helmet and seemed to have calmed down just a bit. She rubbed at her elbow that had a bit of a scratch.

"You head back to barn," She told Natasha, "If you see him, holler really loud for me. I'm going to go to the other fields, see if I can catch him."

The young girl agreed, making her way back down to the barns where her mother had been while she took the lesson. She would tell them what had happened, and to make sure they could catch him if he got around.

June started up towards the bison fields– the ranch handlers had been up there just a few moments prior to the incident, and she may have an idea of where the horse had run to. The property was large, almost three hundred acres of land. But, with the number of trees and wooded miles, it would be harder to catch him than it was with the open spaces.

The Forte ranch was surrounded by mountainous regions, which was good for the bison and the elk that were seemingly farmed in the area. June's family kept bison and yak, which was separate to the ranches out in the southwest. Their ranch was green and grassy, surrounded by lakes and streams with glaciers and chilly mornings.

The summer heat didn't always feel like summer, which was what made the mornings so delightful. It was June's favorite parts about the lifestyle of working outside, she felt like there was so much more to see and so much more to take in. It was her own sense of meditation.

"Hey," June called out to the two men sitting on the fences. "Did you see my horse run by? He threw my rider off and fled, and I didn't really see where he went."

The two men seemingly similar looked at one another before shaking their head, practically ignoring her as they continued to haul a few bales of hay into a truck that was backed up to the fence. "Sorry, hon, no."

June placed her hands in her back pockets before she stared at them for a moment. "Okay, well, he's black. Long white stripe down his nose, kinda pink on the end. His name is Fury, but he doesn't usually respond," She blinked a few times, starting to ramble as she thought for a moment, "Probably why he's being a pain in the ass."

She could tell that the men were seemingly uncaring for her request, so she sniffled out of awkwardness before her boots started to move her to the other end of the field.

A good thirty minutes flew by as she walked along the edges of the property, whistling softly for any sight of where the horse could've gone. The sudden sound of clicking made her head turn towards the wooded area; a strike of fear spooking her as she turned. It wasn't that she feared being on her own, but something about being vulnerable ate away at her.

Her heart instantly dropped as she saw two horses, one ridden and the other being held close by the familiar leather reins. The rider in question familiar as she felt her lips quirk up in a smirk at the look on the man's face. She released the breath she had been holding in.

"Think you're supposed to stay on the horse, not let him run away." The deep voice teased. He had been holding the reins of Fury while riding his own.

"He threw my rider," She told him, "I was trying to make sure that she was okay, and he ran off."

"She was quite young," He commented, obviously seeming a bit worried now. He slowed his horse down, the horse standing in front of June as she went to pet down the mare's nose. It crossed her mind that he had noticed her earlier, possibly been staring. "Was she okay?"

June shrugged, nodding. "No broken bones. Maybe a bit of broken spirit."

"You know what they say," He licked over his lip, "Gotta' get back in the saddle." It was then that a smile broke on his face, which halted her breath at the beauty of it.

She laughed at his dry humor, raising her brows. "They do say that, but I'm going to have to do a bit more training with him. He needs to be better for younger riders."

Harry threw the reins over his horse's head, June caught them in her own grip. She looked back up at him again with a small smile. "I appreciate your help– catching him and all that."

"Pretty good portion of my job," He told her, turning the horse a bit so he could face her better.

June had started to lead the horse back in the direction of where the ring and the barn were before Harry stopped her with his words.

"C'mon, hop on," He told her, shifting in his saddle, "We're almost a mile away. You don't want to have to walk."

June's eyes shifted a bit as she pulled at Fury's lead, walking backwards as she thinks about his request for a moment. It catches her off guard, but she shakes her head.

"I think I can walk," She assures him him with a chuckle. He sways a bit in the saddle as he starts after them, obviously going in the same direction.

"Didn't say you couldn't," He remarks back, June hears his tone and looks back instantly, watching his eyes lay on her. Her stomach dropped at the way his gaze felt; his words playing off the sharpness of his jaw, "Also wasn't looking for an answer, just action."

June eyed him for a moment, almost a stand off from her spot on the ground. She inhaled sharply before she bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't understand the feeling in her chest that had anchored its way down to a bit of heat. The authoritative speaking of his voice made her swallow.

"But what if I wanted to walk?"

June watches the twitch of his face when she denied him– when she didn't do as he asked. When she didn't succumb to his request; which, she was learning was more of a nice way to demand rather than request.

The man slipped off the saddle, moving away from the mare before he was now standing in front of June with her hair pulled from her face. The freckles on her nose were surrounded by a bit of sun-kiss, which the man took as a reward for being so close. His eyes trained in her for a moment before he noticed the hitch in her breath as they were toe to toe.

June subconsciously took a small step back before she felt the touch of his hand on her wrist. Her eyes stayed along the collar of the navy t-shirt that seemed a bit pulled at the collar. While a contrast to the white tank he wore yesterday, this accentuated the bronze of his skin from working out in the summer heat. The warmth of the summer sun has bronzed him, leaving the ink of his arms darker in contrast.

He took a package out of his back pocket, the cigarette between his fingers and dangling from his mouth now as his bright green eyes have a playful lift to them. She watches him teasingly as he lets it dangle from his tongue before placing one on her lip too, waiting for her lip to catch it.

She doesn't tell him that she only smokes when she can't sleep, or when she's stressed out by something her family has said. But she doesn't say anything, just sends him a smirk as they stand toe to toe. His fingers snap the lighter to his, hers next as he takes a draw.

"Anyone looking for you?" His voice was as smooth as leather as he kept his eyes directed to the way her cheeks sunk into breath in the smoke.

"Probably." She responds, drawing her lips between her teeth. She felt the stare down but folded as soon the dimple popped through the right of his cheek. "I have a lesson that should be starting."

He shrugged, "Your horse ran off, nothing you can do."

June went to speak, her head turning towards Fury before Harry looked down the gravel road towards the home– over a mile away like he had mentioned.

Her words got caught in her throat before she can respond, just putting the cigarette up to her lips before she licked her tongue over her bottom lip that had turned into a smile. June bites the inside of her cheek before she looks over Harry who's already moving away from her.

"What're you doing back here?" He asked her, his European accent ringing a bit different, "thought you moved to the city."

Her thoughts ran to the fact that he knew that much about her. She wondered if her dad had mentioned her before, or if he was just paying attention. Either way, her answer to him stayed true.

"I knew I wanted to work my way back here," June told him honestly, "I wanted to work back home. But I need to save some money."

Harry bit his lip as he held the reins of the horse, pulling his over just a bit to start back down the path. It was slow, but it was moving a bit. June knew she was late to her riding session, but she figured it would've been fine anyways– she wasn't going to let her students ride Fury at this point.

"You're young," Harry told her with a chuckle, as if he was trying to explain the world to her, "You've got to explore a bit before moving back home. How do you think I got here?"

June tucked some loose hair behind her ear, "How did you end up here, I mean? It's quite far."

"Five thousand miles, give or take." He tells her, walking alongside her now. They seem to be moving at a slower pace. Either way, Harry knew that he wanted to be next to her.

June took a last draw of her cigarette, throwing it on the gravel. "Way too far for me. I'd miss my family way too much."

Harry flicked the cigarette, the ashes falling a bit before he nodded a few times. "That's because you have a really great family," He looked ahead, chuckling a bit, which June caught before furrowing her brows. "I don't miss my family at all, truthfully. Not much to miss there. So, maybe I just don't get it."

June nodded a few times, understanding the implications and biting her lip at his words. There's silence in the air before she takes in a breath and pressed her lips together then, as if she's trying to find words to help alleviate a pressure that she added in. But, he speaks before she gets a chance to.

"I just think people maybe need to take a few more chances," He says, "Live a little more freely. What's the worst that can happen if you do what you want?"

"Well, most criminals live by that narrative," June tells him, which makes him laugh a little bit at her remarks before she looks at him with the blue eyes that he can't seem to fully grasp could be that color blue.

"Within reason." He adds, and he stops mid step before he watches as she turns to face him at his abrupt stop in the road.

June looks at him, a fluttering feeling in her stomach as his body moves, letting the leather reins go before he stops in front of her again. It's the proximity that sends her thoughts on a tailwind of what could happen next; the adrenaline pushes in her veins as she stares up at him. He's closer now than before, his head has dropped a bit so he can really look at her, but she's acknowledged that, pushing her chin up to make sure she can hear exactly what he's saying.

"Maybe it's the fact that I don't like playing by the rules, though." The smell of the tobacco was filling her nose as they stood so close. His eyes remained deferred from hers, watching the way that the lips and chin were pulling up, almost subconsciously.

"Seems a bit criminal, if you ask me." She teased, tilting her head a bit as she begged him to look at her. 

"I mean," He chuckled, letting his fingers move up to her chin as he took it between them to steady her, "It would be criminal to let you beg any longer. Bit pathetic to watch."

"Not begging." She pushed back, pulling her chin away from his grip, which tightened his jaw. She noticed the way that her defiance made him react, which sped her breathing up.

"Tell your body that, sweets," He bit, "I could say anything, and you'll react to it."

He licked over his lips, watching as she tried her best to stay calm, to keep her breath under control. Her lips were pursed, her stance was trying to stand off a bit, but he could see right through her—he saw that she was trying her best to stand on her own but knew that she would fold right then and there.

It was the game that Harry liked, he liked watching how she would react to him when he spoke to her. She was young, practically ten years younger or so, he could assume—she was so impressionable and the fight for dominance was almost sweet. Harry ached as he watched her try to stand him down and his eyes moved to her lips before they drew up to her eyes, watching the ocean waves of blue.

June pulled away, suddenly. She gave him a smirk before she clicked her tongue to have Fury follow her down the road.

"You think you've got me figured out," She called, looking back over her shoulder. "Not going to work with me, cowboy."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, watching her walk away. His eyes fell to the way that she walked, seeing the swing of her hips as a tactic to use against him. But, he did what he needed to do. He followed close behind, watching her every move—the silence in their walk back not lost on him.

"Something enticing?" June teased, noticing the way that his eyes had danced over her curves from behind. Harry's eyes lifted just a bit, settling in her eyes before he sent a wink her way.

The silence on the walk back to the barns felt good; it felt understood. It's why they both smiled to themselves, neither one seeing the other.

***

"You think I can really pull him?" June looked at Shelby, "He's older– I don't know, Shel."

"You aren't even seeing the way he looks at you," Shelby said to her friend, taking a swig of her beer. He's not taken his eyes off of her, and somehow June knows that deep inside of her, but she can't bring herself to look back at him. She's a bit timid like that; a sharp tongue when confronted, but a tail between her legs when she thinks of it.

The next night, June had gone out with her friend, Shelby, for a drink. It wasn't lost on her that the town was small. Most everyone knew each other, which made the Friday nights out on the town hard to avoid people you didn't want to see.

You really needed to want to be there, or you would be seen by someone you didn't want to see. June hadn't even thought of it when they went out, that she could possibly see him there. After their encounter yesterday morning, June had kept her distance. Not in a way that she felt was stand-offish, but in a way that felt like she was trying her best to let him come to her.

Dating and flirting weren't new to her, but the idea of playing this game scared her a bit. He wasn't new to this; they weren't trying to figure this out together like she had experienced in college. He was older than her, he had experience with this game.

It scared her a bit, because she didn't know how to handle herself in this type of situation. She wanted to come across as confident, but she knew that he had the opportunity to make her fold.

"You need to be drunker," Shelby stated, pushing her half-empty beer to her, watching as June wrapped her hands around the bottle. It was warm to the touch, not fresh in the slightest. "Let's go to the bar to get more."

June looked at her friend after downing the rest before she fully understood what that meant for her.

Shelby had gotten up, which made June follow her. The strawberry blonde realized without another second to spare that she had walked into the lion's den– eyes were on her as she approached the countertop bar.

One pair of eyes, specifically.

At first, she hadn't recognized him. Without the hat and the dirt-ridden t-shirt, she saw the way that the denim jacket hugged his back. The curls had a bit of bounce to them, and her mouth felt dry as she tried her best to divert her attention away.

But they were almost arm and arm and she had wondered if he would notice.

Of course he had. The scent of cherries and lime only made sense when his attention turned back towards a person who had brushed against him now. He had seen her across the room as soon as she came in with her short skirt and boots. He noticed the way that her waist dipped in with the form-fitting top and the slight curl to her hair.

He sat with his beer in his hand, a rowdy few friends were next to him as he kept his attention on her. June felt heat down her neck as she tried to ignore the staring but started to enjoy the feeling of being seen.

"Two whiskey sours," Shelby leaned across the bar to ask for before June looked at her with confusion, knowing that adding a bit of liquor in the mix would either make it better or worse—she didn't know. Her friend smirked at her, watching the bartender start to assemble their drinks.

June kept to herself for a moment before she heard a stealthy voice next to her. The jolt of her head towards him even surprised her as she licked over her lips at the way that he was looking at her.

"You following me, doll?"

June scoffed; her sharp tongue ready. "You don't think I have better things to do?" She quirked her eyebrow at him; feeling the closeness of them as she stood, and he sat on the barstool under the dim light of the grungy pub.

"No," He shook his head, taking a sip from his bottle before he turned to face her now. She was practically between his legs, his knees on either side of her as she stood closer to him than she thought. "I don't think you do."

He looked the same as he had yesterday morning; he was clean shaven on his cheeks, a bit of scruff on his lip and a twinkle in his eye that was undeniable among the green. A denim jacket covering his shoulders and tattooed arms that were on such display this morning. The hair sat longer on top of his head, just enough to add the definitive addition of chocolate curls.

June could barely look at him without her knees buckling at the bar top. But she took the drink from the bartender with confidence, trying to anchor herself.

"Well, you're wrong." June tells him, taking ahold of the cocktail before taking a sip and trying to play hard to get. A game she knew– a game she played far too often.

Harry watched the way she popped her hip, knowing she did it on purpose.

"I'm never wrong," He bit back, still playful. His eyes met June's, and she didn't dare look away. "So, try again."

June cleared her throat, standing against the bar as she let a breath out. What she hadn't anticipated was the way that his bent knee fell behind her own, pulling her closer between his legs at the busy bar.

June went to speak, a small gasp leaving her lips as she placed her hand on his shoulder as she lost a bit of balance. Her hair fell into his face as she felt herself push away. The smirk on his face only made her blush as she pushed off from him.

"Go on," He urged, "Try again."

She raised her eyebrows, noticing her hand still placed on his shoulder. "What if," She cleared her throat, "It's you who is following me?"

Harry took a sip of his beer, lazily, eyes staying on June as he shook his head softly.

" 'Course I am," He bit his lip, "Who wouldn't?"

His honesty came across, making her feel a bit speechless when she looked at him. She downed a good amount of the whiskey drink quickly, knowing that the quicker it went down, the quicker she'd feel it.

"Looks like what I said about criminal activity seems to be true," She let the straw of the drink rest on her tongue as she looked at him, "You're a bit no good."

"Never denied it," He downed a bit more of his drink before he raised his brow at her, "But you keep coming back, don't you?"

Her tongue rested on the straw, playing with it a little bit as she felt the flirtatious spirit running through her. The cat and the mouse were at their height, now.

"Just gathering all the facts on why I should stay away," She told him, pushing her hair back off of her shoulder. The small top only leaving little to the imagination; Harry tried to hold it together as he swallowed dryly.

"How's that working out for you?" He asked, his hand making its way to her hip as he pulled her a bit closer. June took a step, finding her balance as she stared at him for a moment. He knew the look on her face as he had seen that look a few times before.

A part of him felt the words deeper, which initiated him to reach for his wallet.

"Mind if you let me drive you home?" His voice was thick with a dry, hoarseness that only solidified her position backing into his lap.

June practically melted at his touch, his hand on her hip as she nodded a few times before turning towards him then.

"Don't think that should be a problem." She muttered over the music playing across the bar.

June's eyes found Shelby who was standing at the bar, just a few people over before she winked at them. She moved away, just so that Harry could stand on his feet as she watched the man throw a fifty down on the counter to cover the drinks.

"Drinking fifty dollars' worth and then driving me home?" Her attention turned towards the man as he gave her a lazy smile. "Feels a bit dangerous to get in the car with a drunk stranger."

"Feel like it's my job to pay for you too if I'm getting you to leave your friend to come spend time with me, hm?" Harry walked backwards a bit, reaching for her hand before they reached the door to the bar. "You looked like you were having a good time. But I got something to show you."

Her hand fit into his, her breathing escalating just a bit at the way that he maneuvered her grip, making his stronger instantly as he led them back to the Ford pickup he sport around town.

"I was having a good time," She tells him with a bit of a flirty essence, one that held a bit of attitude as far as he was concerned, "And now you're taking me from it. Wherever you're taking me must be pretty good."

Harry bit on his lip as he sniffles, scrunching his nose at her comment. Her comment only pressing his buttons.

"I'd apologize but I don't know if I'm sorry." He commented, cocking his head.

"You'll only have to apologize if I'm left disappointed–"

When they reached the blue pick-up, his hands instantly grabbed at her hips. They pushed her body into the iron to hold her captive against the side of the truck. It wasn't hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to ground her. She hoped there'd be a small amount of pain as a reminder of the moment.

"You're not gonna question me, are you?" He asked her with the softest voice; the threat in his tone only heightened her senses as she flinched at the way he spoke.

The inside of her thighs fluttered at his growl of a voice. "N-No," June answered, "No, no, never."

His lips brushed against the side of her ear, pulling his body away from her just for a moment before he nodded and found the moment to understand her.

"Good girl," He praised, moving his hands upwards to her waist. The slim part of her torso melted into a perfect hourglass figure. Her hips were wide and held his sight, but his hands loved the feeling of the curve.

June's breath halted at the way that he held her– at first with a physical grip so tight, and then an invisible string of persistence.

The small pub rested just on the outskirts, in the mountains, but just far enough from the ranch. The radio played lightly; the windows were rolled down as the horizon line were just baring a bit of light.

Harry had driven the truck up to one of the horse barns that sat just close to June's guest house, where she had been staying. It was a bit further on the property, but she drove past it almost every day.

"What are we doing here?" She questioned him before he opened the door. He went to the other side to help her out, taking her hand as she jumped down. He had taken her waist in his hands to help her, the touch of him on her was enough to make her breathing hitch.

"Have something to show you, I told you." He said, taking her hand in his as he led her back up to the darkened barn. When they arrived at the open door, he flickered on a switch that gave the large space a bit of light.

When they both walked into the small barn, the only lights were overhead, the sound of the crickets chirping filled the silence. June followed Harry's lead before she noticed that they stopped at the stall at the end of the row, down closer to the tack room.

"Here we are," Harry nodded, leaning his arms on the side of the stall gate. When June turned towards the mother horse and baby that were laying on the ground before them. She felt her heart melt at the sight of the small, brown foal that had two white spots on the top of its forehead.

"Oh my god," She gasped, watching as Harry smiled at her surprise. "Aren't they the sweetest thing?"

"He was born this morning," Harry leaned against the gate, watching the two horses on the ground before he turned back to June. The mare simply in awe of the small baby, seemingly tired as she laid next to him. "Needs a name."

"The ranch has a history of naming them after the stars, you know," June tells him, walking over to the little foal. His legs tucked under him, two bright white spots perfectly in the middle of his forehead.

June leans down a bit, hesitant not to scare him. Her hand reaches out to pet the small foal before she runs over hand over the white spots.

"Well, mum is Forager of Stardust," He tells her, keeping against the gate with his arms crossed, "So, we'll keep it in the family."

June starts to giggle as she turns back to Harry, eyes wide, "Ziggy Stardust– hands down, has to be."

"Ziggy Stardust? Alright, then. Sounds like a perfect name to me." Harry questions with a laugh; his smile becoming a bit more than the typical lazy one he likes to sport. June noticed that the crinkles by his eyes were a bit more defined, her nods insinuating her answer.

June turned back to the little foal before watching as his dark brown eyes blinked a few times with the lashes so long and fluttered. Her heart was built from the small creatures around the farm, the life that had been put into this lifestyle.

It reminded her of the sweetness; the parts of her life that continued to only get better the older she got and the more she enjoyed the peacefulness of simplicity.

This was it– this was the simplicity she craved. The rebirth, the gentle touches that reminded her of what life really was all about. She loved watching the ranch run on its own, watching as it grew everyday with small details.

Harry had moved towards a bale of hay that sat in the corner, taking a seat on it as he leaned against the stable wall. He watched June nuzzling the foal before she turned her head towards him again. He gave her a tilted smirk, dimple pressing into his cheek as he watched the nurturing love that nestled out of her.

"Did you grow up on a farm?" She asked, looking back at him before standing up from her spot. She managed to make her way through the tall stable hay before taking a seat on the bale with him. The small spot was snug, but neither of them seemed to mind.

"I did," He nodded a few times, "But it was a lot different. Sheep and goat, mostly. England is also a bit flatter, so it was a lot easier to ride than it is here. But I just figured that this would be a bit of an adventure."

"Think you made a good choice?" June asked, crossing her arms as her legs settled straight out just like his.

Harry raised his brows before he felt that he couldn't stop himself from smiling all the sudden. He wanted to believe that the few beers had something to do with it, hours ago now, but he knew that it wasn't. His eyes were downcast as he started to nod a few times.

"The views here are incredible." He answered, looking up at her, "But the scenery around here is good, too."

June nodded a few times, sniffling.

Harry decided to return the question, looking back at her. "Do you think you made the right choice coming back home? Assuming you liked the city, I guess."

June shrugged her shoulders, knowing that being home was always difficult in some capacity. She loved her family, loved the ease of being able to go places and knowing exactly what to expect. Home seemed to be a place that was easily accessible to her, all the time. Her family would always bring her back—she always knew that she could lean on them without an issue or judgement of feeling pressured to leave.

"I think I made the right choice to come home and to do what feels easy right now," She nodded a few times, "I think coming home from college is scary because you're like," She shrugged, "You feel like you don't have a direction anymore. You're in school practically your whole life—it's all you know. And then to think that you could go somewhere else and live a new life after that. It's just a lot. They're letting me stay in the guesthouse until I can get my bearings."

Harry understood, to some degree. But he was the opposite—if it wasn't new, it wasn't exciting. He wanted to see new things and to not see the same view twice. It meant that you weren't settled, even though the idea of settling wasn't bad. It was just different.

"It's probably good to know that you have a space in the world somewhere," He agreed, settling a bit, "I understand that. I didn't go to college, but I get that you want to feel like you're... you. And you're not having to reintroduce yourself to a new place or new people."

"My family knows exactly who I am," She smiled, "And that's what I want right now."

That was the truth—June wanted to just stay here until she was able to get her own place, maybe down the road. She could have the best of both worlds—one day she'd be able to live on her own, but still be able to stay connected to the place that felt so close to her heart. Teaching riding lessons was her only income, but it helped pay her loans and aided in her weekend ventures with her friends, specifically Shelby.

There wasn't much more she could have wanted now. Happiness seemed to manifest itself in the little things.

But, of course, after the small incident with Fury yesterday morning, she didn't know that she would have been able to trust him. It felt that there was more she could do about it, but she knew that his outbursts had been due to her lack of maintaining his trust and boundaries. He was also just an asshole half the time, and it wasn't something that she could put up with if he continued.

June sighed a bit, thinking of it when she noticed that Harry had taken interest in her sudden displeasure.

"What's wrong?" He asked. She blinked a few times, watching as he seemed to understand that her sigh was of annoyance.

"Well, I'm not going to be able to give anymore lessons until I can get Fury figured out," She shook her head, watching the man as he listened to her quandary. "I have to get him straightened out or I'll have to get another horse ready just to train on, and work with Fury until then."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he let his eyes move to the side, seeing if he would get the reaction he was looking for.

"Bet you're a real good rider, huh?" He teased, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Probably give good lessons, too."

June pulled her lips into her mouth to keep from the smirk that was approaching, but she rolled her eyes instead. "What a line."

"I'm just asking!" He lifted his hands in defense as he chuckled out a bit, "Was maybe looking into some lessons to help you out."

Their outstretched legs bumped into one another as she pulled at bent knee up to hug into her chest. "I charge a hefty fee."

Harry shrugged, running his hand through his hair. The unruly curls were a bit out of control as he sniffled gently at the way that the hay tickled his nose. "I'll pay up-front."

June shifted her jaw as she licked over her lips. It was a bit dangerous, this game that they were playing. But she had an idea in her brain that she was going to take his advice.

What was the worst that could happen?

She sat up, back straight. Her eyes were downcast as she looked over at him, then. He didn't know how to respond to her stare before he felt the way that she pushed her knee over his lap. Her hands steadily placing on his shoulder as he looked up at her with a smirk that said all of the words that she desperately needed to hear.

"Alright, then," She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, "Let me give you a lesson or two, cowboy." Her hips sank into his pelvis, pushing gently with the added pressure as she took a seat like he had inquired for.

Harry sat up a bit straighter, watching as she straightened up, too. Her skirt flowed over her thighs as he let his hands place on the outside of her hip for helping her balance. A smirk coated her blushing cheeks as she tucked her hair behind her ear in a nervous habit.

"I'm already learning so much," He teased her, waiting for her to make another move. She thought she may have a grasp on how to approach him but became nervous as she started to take charge. It was evident to him as she settled into his lap, but he loved the initiative.

They faced one another and she bit her lip at the way that he talked to her. He paid attention to her, let his hands get to know her before he pressed further.

"Dare you to kiss me, though." He said to her, watching as she gave him a look of confusion. She chuckled at him, as she shook her head, but he just smirked, "No one can pass up a dare."

She did exactly as he had dared, pressing down so their lips met. It was like finding water in the desert as she immediately pushed forward, needing more as soon as she got a taste. Her hips rolled at the feeling of his hand making its way to the back of her neck, almost like he was guiding her closer. He was showing her what she needed without words.

The kiss allowed him to press his tongue into her mouth which elicit a whimper from her, his cock straining underneath the jeans that she had been pressing on. He followed, letting his own whimper strain out at the thought of her pressed against him. The skirt not allowing anything between them except the panties he imagined she'd have on.

Deepening the kiss, he pulled her hips forward just enough that he was allowing her hips to ride into him. The coolness of his belt made her shiver, her thighs immediately reacting to the touch.

"You wanna let me take the reins?" He offered, his voice deep and raw as he felt the closeness of them. Her back arched into him, his words giving her a break as she nodded fervently.

"Please?" She asked, practically pleading.

It didn't take any longer before he threw his arm around her, picking her up into his lap as he found the grounding of his feet. Swiftly, he held her up on his waist as she wrapped her legs around his middle, holding on as they pressed their way through the barn.

The small tack closet next to the stable was the closest they got before he threw open the door and led them in.

Harry threw her on the table, letting her sit as he continued to let his lips fall over her again and again. With her help, his hands pulled the denim off of his arms and back, pieces of clothing seem to fall off easily.

He gently allowed his hand to move to the inside of her thigh, pressing down a bit to gauge her reaction.

Her skin was hot, his eyes were down as he guided his hand to the place that she needed him most.

"Please, please," She continued to plead, his ears ringing from the way that she needed. It was so innocent and cute, almost like she hadn't any idea how badly he could wreck her.

"Turn around." He demanded, pulling away just enough to give her room to move. When she didn't, all he saw was a deer in headlights, watching him for a moment like she didn't know what he was asking of her. She swallowed, licking over her lips as she got to her feet.

Her slow movement initiated him to grab her by the hips to turn her around quickly. His hand pressed on her back, pushing her to her elbows on the deck of the tack room.

"When was the last time you were fucked?"

Her throat was tight just at the words that left his mouth; her breathing racing as she anticipated the quickness of this. She had been waiting for it; hoping he'd understand she had been quietly asking for this.

"Been a while," She answered breathlessly, her legs pushed apart as he stood behind her. The flow of the skirt barely covered over her ass before he pushed it up to reveal it all. "N-Not that long."

His eyes grew three sizes larger as he took in the detail of the black lace that lay over her milky skin.

Harry pulled himself down, letting his knees sink to the ground. His eyes were level with the lace as he quickly let his fingers rest on the waistband, pulling them off of her and down her thighs.

She gasped at the feeling, his eyes never leaving.

"Goddamn," He commented, his thumb pressing softly into her. She jerked forward at the initial contact, eyes shutting as she leaned into his touch. "Knew it," He chuckled, "Knew you'd get yourself wet for me."

His thumb moved out slowly, her reaction exactly what he wanted. She pulled back with him, wanting to be filled– he knew exactly where he needed to get her.

"Needy," He berate, his words having a bit of edge. Her eyes flickered open as she gasped at the feeling of his hand slapping the harness of her skin. His thumb removed as he spanked her again, lurching her forward. "So fucking greedy."

Her knees trembled at the feeling, left untouched as he stood behind her. The sound of his belt made her eyes shut as he undid the button on his jeans and smirked at the way she settled underneath him.

"Don't mind that we don't have a condom, right?" He asked, his hand moving to the reddened spot on her skin that she ached took feel again. He smirked, knowing the words he would say would only make her a bit restless. "Can wait if you really need me to."

Her head turned around, her lips a bit raw from where she had been nibbling on it.

"No," She shook her head, "No– no. I'm safe, we're okay." She pleaded, and his smirked lifted at her neediness.

His hands pulled on her hips to arch just a bit for him. June quickly felt the teasing way his tip pressed against her soaked cunt, her hands turned white knuckled as she gripped tightly onto the wood. It was just the feeling alone– she hadn't even seen him, but her anticipation was high.

"Just letting you know," He pressed the tip right into the softness between her, giving her a sensation of euphoria just from how turned on she had been. She let out a moan, her eyes shutting. "We play by my rules. When I say down, you go down. When I say suck, you suck. No backtalking. I'm giving you the best fuck of your life, so you listen to me to get what I know you want. Got it?"

He hadn't even given her a reason to moan, her words caught in her throat as she nodded with. A subtle whimper— the strawberry blonde hair flinging over her shoulder as he moved it away. His lips found their home on the back of her neck, sucking gently at the skin.

"You're going to be such a good girl, though, aren't you? You would never disobey me, huh?" He cooed; his lips continued to ravish at her hair line as she threw her head back in an ache to feel the pleasure he was offering.

June's hips moved back gently, but his hands gripped at her before she could push herself onto him. The slight action gave him a sense of power; his hand smacking onto the curve of her.

The cracking sound familiar to one of a whip— she gasped at the feeling, her eyes closing shut just at the pain that radiated in such a burning sensation.

"Fuck," She whispered, knowing that she was simply dripping at the need. She had never been in a position of such need— she had never needed someone to give her what she needed in such a way that it brought tears to her eyes just to think about it. "I-I'm sorry— I—"

"I'm not." He stated, his breath hot on her neck. A coolness laying underneath—the metal of the cross hitting at her shoulder when he grabbed her hips towards him. When he pushed in, it took a fluid motion before they both moaned out in pleasure. It was a shock of intensity that Harry had truly never felt before.

Sure, he'd been in this position before— but like this? He had been with beautiful women, seen beautiful things. But the enticing scent of wildflowers and sweet vanilla only flourished as his nose brushed the softness of her shoulder.

Harry tried to keep his composure— trying to follow the red behind his eyes, but suddenly feeling the urge to cum at any moment which made him a bit nervous at the quick build-up. It was exceptionally better than he had expected; he had been more turned-on than he had thought.

His forehead rested on her shoulder blade; the small strap of her tank-top the only small detail that was between his forehead and her skin. Harry bit his lip slightly as he wondered when he would be ready to pull out to continue fucking her into an oblivion that would send her to the stars.

But he felt incredibly, incredibly close to the edge just at the initial feeling of her. He grunted in a bit of frustration as he shook his head to try to clear all the thoughts that had gathered there. The curls of his hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. His hands kneaded into the fleshy skin that curved over the small skirt that still rested on her thighs. He had just pushed it up enough to give himself access to what he really needed.

Focus, he thought to himself.

"You are so goddamn tight," He watched as her back arched a bit at his words. Her chin turned to the side, just enough where he could now see her side profile. Her eyes were shut, mouth parted in a small, dainty way. "No one's fucked you in a while, have they, darling? You lie to me?"

Harry pulled himself out just a bit, watching where they connected as he felt himself slip back in. The tightness surrounding him made his eyes clamp shut. She felt incredible to him on every level that he couldn't think of anything else that moment.

It was dizzying.

"N-No, not like you— not like this," June muttered. The way that her hands gripped over the table in the tack room was almost pain to her fingertips. "You're so deep, fuck."

The sound of her voice elicits a response of his hips bucking into her, the rasp and grunt of June's voice painted a beautiful picture in his memory.

"You like me deep like that?"  Harry licked over his lips, eyes moving down her body as he moved his leg to her thigh. "Pull this up on the table— go on," He urged, "it'll be good for you."

June felt the pat on her thigh, Harry's hands slid the remaining clothes down her legs to leave her completely free on the bottom. He pulled out for a moment to help her lift her leg, balancing herself as she felt suddenly empty without him filling her up.

Watching as she lifted her leg on the table, pushing herself up, Harry dropped to his knees as he took in what he saw. A certain hunger elicits his eyes as he grabbed onto the back of her thighs, spreading them apart. In an instant, she felt the spit on her already dripping cunt as his mouth attached to her almost like it was made for his lips to wrap around.

Her head drew back at the feeling of his mouth on her, the knot in her stomach was undoubtedly loosening as she felt the nudge of his tongue against her clit; the feeling of his nose gracing her. In the last twenty-four years, she had never been blessed with a partner that would have given her the opportunity to feel this way. She had never been with an older man before, either.

Maybe her innocence had been brushed away by the complete raging needs of his wandering hands.

Either way, she didn't know if she could get any better than this. The softness of his tongue with a stiff edge and control, the scruff of his upper lip taunting her as he spread her thighs further apart while his mouth took her from behind.

"Could ruin you in so many ways." Harry hummed, his tongue dripping from her arousal that coated it. "You want me to ruin you, doll?"

Her hair fell into her face as she nodded fervently, her hand pushing the locks away as she tried to catch a glimpse of him but leaned forward instead.

"Yes— I want you to ruin me, please." Her voice was a shy, timid tone but it held all of the power of her needs. He knew exactly what she needed, and he would gladly give her every bit of it.

Harry immediately felt the words go straight to his cock; the feeling of arousal only tempting him further and further. What was it about this girl that gave him such an issue? He hadn't always been so easy to please, but something about the way that she moved her hips, her small movements only made him want to be rougher.

A girl that didn't know what she wanted was always the best— it was the moment when she found exactly what she was looking for, but never knew how to express it that made him cum the hardest. Harry wanted to push every ounce of her until she was begging for it.

June lurched forward just a bit as he stood back up from his position, moving to enter her once again. The slickness of his spit mixed with her arousal created the perfect lubrication that guided his swiftly back into her.

Deeper this time— much deeper. He held onto her thighs, pushing his hips into her at a steadier rate as the soft hums of her whimpers started to go deeper and become significantly more adulterated versions of moans. He felt the way he slipped in and out of her like she had been made to pleasure him.

"Keep quiet," He urged, "You're going to get us into trouble if someone hears us."

"I want them to hear how good you're fucking me," She urged, a whimper coming out as he slowed his motions to tease her further. "Fucking me so good."

He leaned in a bit close to her ear, pulling back her neck as her body contorted to meet his needs. She was in his grasp, only moving in the way that he needed her to. His hand pulled at her throat; the coolness of his undone belt buckle was against her thigh as he pushed in completely to get as close to her as possible.

The moan that escaped her lips was cut short by the hand that cupped over her mouth, which only pushed her further.

"You're going to be quiet or I'm going to pull out, do you understand me?" His voice was deep, low, and cold as she shut her eyes to the sound of it. She felt the push of two of his fingers into her mouth, a surprise at first. "Brats get punished and I'm going to leave your little cunt wanting more if you don't listen."

June hadn't felt this way in years— there had never been a man to satisfy the needs that had been built up in this way. It really hadn't been that long since she hooked up with someone, but she had never felt this way in her entire life. She had never felt this full— this satisfied. It was extraordinarily rough— it was to the point where she hadn't ever known a pleasure like this before.

She couldn't have imagined this.

"You understand?"  He says finally; she hadn't recognized that he had truly been waiting for a response before continuing. She had concluded that his pleasure was aided with being in charge. June couldn't understand the way that she became extremely, unbelievably pleasant for him. A few more thrusts pushed her to the brink of extraordinary delight before she dipped her head at the throbbing feeling between her legs.

"I understand— I do, I do, fuck– fuck." She whimpered out, unaware of the way that his thrusts had pushed on her enough that her muscles involuntarily ached as her orgasm became all the sudden wet— a solid gasp releasing her lips as she felt him pull out just at the feeling.

Harry's eyes darkened to a color of coal before he watched her inevitably drip down her own legs, the sight only causing his own mind to fall to a place of filth and absolute insanity. The gushing liquid was only a sight that he never thought he'd see like that– especially from her.

The innocent act was truly just an act.

"Jesus Christ," He commented under his breath, a bit taken by the sight. He choked back for a moment before he looks at the way he left her cunt dripping with need over the dark brown boots that had pushed her legs open. "So, fucking messy, aren't you?"

He watched the way that June's breathing heaved for a moment before he let his hand run down her spine— almost like she had been a bit surprised, like she hadn't expected her body to do anything like that.

Harry paused for a moment, watching to make sure that she was okay. Even in the rough moments, he watched to see if she seemed alright— his head tilting a bit as he hadn't heard anything else from her. A small coax from his hand on the small of back made him pause for a moment.

"Hey," He spoke quietly, "You're okay, doll, hm?"

June felt extremely exhausted already, almost like her body had started to fail her with how her legs trembled in this position. Her head turned back to look at him, a small nod coming from her without any words as she tried to find herself back in the moment.

It was an odd feeling in his chest as he started to feel an ache that went from extremely vile— filthy as he fucked this girl against the tack closet desk, to a sense of vulnerability that he made have started to push her a bit further than she was ready for. She didn't know it until her body was giving her pleasure that she hadn't felt before.

In an attempt to aid in some relief, especially to the legs that shook a bit more than a small foal, he pulled June back to a standing position. Her confusion on her face was obvious before Harry grabbed her by the waist to place her on the end of the desk instead. The skirt that had been pulled around her thighs had been pulled down completely.

"Get you off your legs so I can finish you off without you falling out on me," He told her with a sly smile, "Anyone ever made you feel this good?"

He watched the girl— completely wrecked with a face of pure softness. Her eyes were dazed, her attention stayed on him as he she shook her head. He felt better that she was conscious, even if he had taken practically everything from her.

"I can tell," He tells her softly before he tucks the hair out of her face, "Sorry you've been so deprived," Harry comments, "Would've done it for you sooner, if I would have known. Good thing I know now, hm? Won't let this happen again, angel, promise.

The feeling of their lips presses together as June grabs at her thigh so that Harry can move into the position between her legs once again. His tongue tastes like tobacco, a hint of the gum that he had been chewing.

Harry pressed the tip of his cock back into her to finish what he had started. His muscles ached in his abdomen as he felt himself tense at the feeling through a few more thrusts as he faced her now.

"Feels so, so good," June's words had whimpered out of her, a bit surprising at how quiet she had been and started to become even more so. "I-I'm— it's— fuck. Please, please more."

Harry's hands had made their way to her hips, making sure she had been pulled completely to the front of the desk so that he could feel her deeper. His vision moved down to the place where they connected; a hint of heat on the back of his neck as he thought of the moment more intrinsically.

"C'mon," He coaxed, their noses brush as he lets his forehead rest against hers. His breathing hitched for a moment as he felt her hand move to grab at his bicep. "C'mon, give me one more. You can do it."

His hips snapped further into her; June breathed into his mouth with a hot gasp as she screwed her eyes shut at the feeling of his cock nudging at a place that elicit such a firework of intensity that she hadn't ever felt before. It didn't matter how many college nights, bar hookups, serious relationships— none of those had the control that Harry had over her.

This was a feeling that he had crafted to ensure that the other person felt extraordinarily vulnerable and taken. She recognized that she wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last. 

She was okay to just be his right now.

"Mm," She bit on her lip at the thought of what had caused her to be sent over the edge prior. She wanted to know what to ask for; she didn't know what she needed, but she was certainly going to try. "W-Want you to...to c-call me a slut," she said with a small voice, just heard between them. Her eyes had turned away from him with a sheepish-shy feeling. "Need it."

Harry paused for a moment before he let his hand move to underneath her chin, propping her up to look into his eyes. He needed her to say it to him— needed to see her embarrassed and shy, wanting him to treat her like a one-night rather than a forever.

"I only call it like it is," He tells her with a grin carved like a devil, "I just have to call you a slut so you drench my cock? Is that it?" He knew he had to push her further, get her to a place in her head where she felt sexy, where she felt loose to the point of unraveling. "Letting me fuck you in a little closet on your daddy's ranch— such a pretty little brat." 

"Fuck me," She whined, knowing that her words would travel if she were any louder. "I-I'm gonna–"

"Do it." He coaxed.

Just at the sound of his words, he could feel the way that she unwound herself— simply, he didn't recognize that his words really did have the effect. His lips part as he watched her body fully shake with a convulsion the wetness coated his front with a small spray of her. Drenching his clothes and their boots as they sat with gasping breaths, he stared at the way that her pussy reacted to him, wondering how his words affected her so easily.

She was wrecked.

"That's such a good fucking girl," Harry told her softly, pressing himself back in, nodding fervently as he reassured her. Her cry was let out of the feeling of sensitivity that came after her explosive orgasm.

His hand placed on the back of her neck, pulling her forward a bit as he snapped his hips harder into her so that he could reach a place of pure euphoria. He couldn't begin to replay the actions of her pretended innocence, wondering if he would ever get to see anything like it agan. "Not going to last—fuck."

In an instant, his muscles tensed with an aching feeling that pushed his hips deeper into hers. Harry's lips placed themselves on her neck, kissing at the spots with a gentle softness—he knew what he had been in for in this intense, heated hook-up, but his cock had found a ferocious love for finishing inside of her all of the sudden.

It was all encompassing.

"Shit– shit." He hadn't even thought of the repercussions of not having the condom but needing to be careless for a few moments of time. He fell into her grip, holding onto her softly as he felt their breathing becoming less heavy.

June's legs were wrapped around his hips like an anchor, her head sat heavy on his shoulder as he mustered up the courage to pull away. He didn't really want to pull out completely, knowing it felt too good to let his cock feel the tight confines of her walls.

He slowly pulled his hips back, letting the mess fall out with him.

"Oh, fuck." He muttered under his breath, watching the display of a horribly sexual sight. One that someone would pay money to see. "I've never felt anything like that."

The way that she breathed against the wall, up on the table. Her eyes were shut as she held herself up and wondered if her choices had been worth it. She blinked a few times, almost like her body was now shutting down after the intensity of their passionate love affair.

Harry waited for her to respond to him, to look at him. He watched as her chest raised and lowered, knowing she was still breathing, but seemed to be missing from behind her eyes.

"Hey," He pulled her back from against the wall, whispering to her sweetly as he felt himself breathing a bit fast, too. "C'mon, doll, we should go clean up. I think we can sneak out the back."

Her movements felt heavy as Harry tried his best to bring her back to her feet. When he felt that she was steady enough, he let go of her to place his jeans and belt back into place, watching her shakily redress herself. The quietness of the small tack closet didn't hinder them, as Harry placed a kiss along her cheek before he let his hands fall on the doorknob.

"I'll go first and then you can follow me," He tells her, watching her nod in agreement. "Front door or back door?" He asks, in reference to the small guest house that June had been staying in. Her breathing had finally fallen into place. The desperation of need still on her eyes, which only excited him to get her back alone.

"Back." She tells him, quietly. Using her words wasn't so bad, but her legs became a bit unsteady, so she held onto the table behind her.

Before he opens the door, Harry gives her a quick once over. His eyes land on her lips before he steps forward to leave a kiss along her pout, letting her sink into him once again. The taste of her instantly feeds him as he groans into the feeling.

It was about time he found the feeling everyone told him he should be looking for. It was a myth for so long, but just in the way that he lips melted into his was enough to make to him blush. Her hands in his hair at the back of his neck, the feeling of her nails along his jaw settled his need for the moment before he pulled back and gave her another peck.

"Don't be too long," He told her, "Don't want to have to wrangle you back to me." 

She smirked at his challenge as he opened the door to slip out. Her eyes shut at the way moved, closing the door behind him. A settled feeling in her chest only made her stumble back just a bit, letting herself rest on the table before she took in a solid breath.

Home had seemingly never felt so right.

[monimccoythings]

Feral!Logan drabbles

Oooh finally did it. Couldn't resist to write some silly Feral!Logan drabbles. Wanted to use a pic of Hugh in the first movie but this one was too perfect for what I had in mind. I love this little feral hairy man.

Reader is female.

So Reader is a mutant with light based habilities. She can absorb electricity from devices and machines and turn them into blasts of light (kinda like Starlight from the Boys)

Reader's on the run from the American government, they want to harvest her powers and use them as a way of 'defending' themselves from mutantkind. For the last year she has been running. Right now she has crossed the border and is currently in the middle of a blizzard in the Canadian Rockies.

She's tired, hungry, cold and there's no electrical current in miles, so her powers are basically rendered useless. And they keep chasing. She doesn't know how much longer she's going to last.

Reader can barely see and trips on a branch, knocking herself out.

Feral!Logan has been living in the mountains since he escaped from Weapon X, probably in the 80s. Has no memories, no social knowledge, just survival instincts.

Feral!Logan hates when strangers enter his territory and refuse to leave. Those are his hunting grounds, not theirs. He swiftly disposes of the agents and approaches the unconscious Reader.

He feels a weird tingling on his chest when he sees the pretty human female laying on the snow. His fingers slowly caress her soft features. He decides that moment he must have her.

Believing her to be a mate for him, Feral!Logan carries her back to the cave where he lives, placing her carefully on the pile of furs he has collected from his hunts.

When Reader awakes, she finds herself laying in a makeshift bed of animal fur in some random cave instead of a government jail cell. She immediately panics, not knowing where she is.

She tries to leave, but is stopped by a wild looking man covered in dirt. Taller than her and built like a fridge. He's half naked, his only clothing are two dog tags hanging from his neck and some undergarments that leave little to the imagination.

Under all that dirt there was hairy body rippling with muscles more fitting of a bodybuilder than a man who lived by himself in the mountains. Jeez, you could grate cheese on those abs. Reader can't help staring.

Feral!Logan roughly pushes her back against the furs. One single hand is enough to keep her still, which speaks volumes of the kind of strength he possesses.

The rugged man starts sniffing her everywhere, her neck, her collarbone, he kepts getting lower, grunting approvingly. When he's about to reach that part of her anatomy. She grabs his dishelved hair, trying in vain to keep him away. He looks at her, annoyed at having been denied of his prize; but, surprinsingly, obeys.

From then on, Reader's entire life becomes that cave and her mysterious savior/keeper. He provides her with shelter, warmth, water from a nearby stream and food from his hunts. Feral!Logan wants to prove himself as a worthy partner for her, catering to her needs.

Reader didn't spend most of her childhood summers in camps to eat now raw meat, no matter how little Feral!Logan seems to care about it. So she teaches him how to light a fire the old fashioned way, lamenting she can't use her powers so it'd be easier.

And he freaks out.

After a while he gets used to it, he nearly gives you a heart attack when he touched it and his burnt hand healed almost instantly. He rumbled pleasingly when you held his large hands between yours, marvelled at his healing factor.

At night, they sleep together, in the makeshift bed of animal skins. His arm engulfs her waist, pressing her smaller body towards his powerful chest. It's nearly impossible for her to move away.

Like hell he's going to let her go.

[teastainedprose]

Too Sweet - Ch. 1 (Cooper Howard x Reader)

A settler selling wares in Filly catches The Ghoul's eye. Inspired by a Tumblr post asking for an angst fic to Hozier's Too Sweet. 1,753 words | [AO3] No warnings yet, only innocent flirting. Banner from @eupheme

The first time he spots you, Cooper thinks nothing of it. Sure, you look a little less worn down compared to the usual rabble roaming Filly. Certainly scrubbed a little cleaner than most but so were the rest of your companions. The lot of you are a curiosity for sure, but he's seen plenty of attractive women over the ages and known a handful carnally. He's not the sort of man to let a pretty face distract him. No, you don't get a second glance from the ghoul as he goes about his business. 

It's not until your laughter catches Cooper by the ear that he starts paying attention. Jerks his head right round at the sunny sound, attention diverting from the bounty board as he watches you engage with a customer. You laugh again, a merry delight that lights your face right up while the elderly woman you're chatting with laughs along. She's made brighter for being so close to you while you've suddenly become the sun in Cooper's eyes. A brightness he has to squint at when he looks over again to drink you in. His long-dead heart decides that it's about time to do a little flip.

That's a sensation he's not keen on feeling. Cooper hums under his breath, frown settling on his worn lips. He tugs the brim of his hat lower, turning away as he tries to focus on the task at hand. No good can come of fancying any sort of infatuation on a smoothie like you. You're not the sort of creature deserving of the trouble he could bring.

Yet Cooper finds he can't quite help himself. Wasteland life is full of little pleasures and looking at you sure counts as a bit of pleasure. Why not indulge?

The rest of the day as he sits waiting for a client to show, his eyes flicker over you. Wherever you're from, it's certainly kinder to you than what most folks in the Wasteland see. You almost look as soft as some fresh-faced Vaultie, but he can see that your hands are well-worn as you exchange produce for caps. A farmer of sorts. Homesteader.

He listens with a keener ear to the gossip swirling about you and those in your group. A little settler band situated out east, closer to the mountains and closer to what manages to grow green. He picks up that your lot wanders in every few weeks with produce to sell, or trade to stock up the settlement the collective group runs. 

Idly, he wonders what horseshit sort of ideology your commune might be sunk into, but if you're looking to spread a new sort of gospel none of your ilk seem keen on sharing it here. You're a welcome addition to the economy of Filly and it's clear that many enjoy the taste of hope this band of settlers bring in with their harvest. Cooper figures that's indoctrination enough from the harsh reality the Wasteland offers up.

Cooper finds himself wandering over to Ma June's place under the pretense of stocking up on supplies. There's suspicion in her eyes as he drops his intended purchases onto the counter but that's not out of the ordinary. There's always suspicion in the looks Ma June gives him, but she'll take his caps all the same.

"Say, now what's with that group of lil' farmers hauling in their produce like that? Can't imagine those soft-lookin' sorts making their way all the way here unmolested," he drawls out. His smile is crooked as Cooper counts through his caps to pay.

"Settlers, but the well-armed sort. No point in trifling with them. Too well-liked here for their fresh food supply they haul in," Ma June pulls the caps towards her, gaze fixed on the ghoul as she mutters. "They'll trade with ya, but keep out of their business. Ya hear?"

A hum escapes Cooper as he considers this, leaning onto the counter while glancing out the dusty window towards where you stand at the stall. He casually stashes his purchases into his saddlebag while going on conversationally.  "Well- Is that so? They a regular sort of fixture here in Filly now?"

"Have been setting up that stall going on half a year now. Surprised you've yet to come across 'em. Best cherry tomatoes you'll find in the Wasteland." Ma June eases back, arms crossing over her chest as a sour look settles in place on her worn face.

Another speculative hum escapes Cooper as he digests this information before he tips his hat to Ma June and goes on his way. Which happens to lead him straight to your stall.

Once there, Cooper casually plucks up potatoes, a handful of cherry tomatoes, and okra. All of it looks as vegetables should, the sort he would have found at the grocery store before everything went to shit. 

"How much for this lot?" He sets the small bounty atop the open space on the stall. Cooper gives you his Hollywood smile that would charm the pants off of any woman in bygone days, except now his face is a leathery wreck and his teeth are yellowed with age. Most people instantly flinch away in disgust.

Not you.

You smile like the morning sun towards him as you step closer while dusting your hands off on your pants. The bit of dirt smeared on your face only seems to enhance your features in Cooper's eyes. The look you give him is almost shy once you meet his gaze, smiling warmly up to him. 

Cooper finds that curious. He's familiar with a scowl or grimace of disgust when anyone looks him in the face, but here you are gracing him with an easy smile. A customer is a customer, he figures, and he'll do well enough. Yet, your friendliness doesn't feel like an act. Even after all these years, Cooper Howard still can clock other actors.

"Fifteen caps for the whole lot, but I'll throw in an extra sweet potato for the smile." You wink. Wink right at him as your smile grows. "They're good for ya, handsome." You add casually, the smile tugging up further into a cheeky grin. Your expression shifts. Playful. Coy. Interested.

Ain't that something? Cooper doesn't falter at the full force of your attention. He's too old and worn for that, but he sure does grin right back with a twinkle in his eye. Even an old ghoul like him can enjoy a pretty thing like you openly flirting with him.

Now that he’s heard it, Cooper decides your voice is sweet as a silver bell. The sort of soothing tone that reminds him of rain softly pelting a windowpane. It's the sort of sound that makes him wish to stay and listen for a while, tucked into the warmth that he suddenly wants you to offer up. He wants to get you talking to hear more. Wonders how he can coax you into a conversation.

That’s a fucking stupid idea. Cooper mentally shakes himself free of the passing fancy, head tilting ever so slightly as he peers down at you from the shadow of his hat. "Mhm. Ain't trying to get me hooked now are you, sweetheart?

"Something like that." 

“Well now, reckon vegetables ain’t the worst sort of vice a man can get lost in.” Cooper still can’t help himself. He lets his eyes wander right down your body before flicking back up to your face, what sort of vice he’s pondering made clear.

That flush on your cheeks blooms all the hotter as you laugh for him, the sound an utter delight when directed his way. You smile, sweet and shy now as you pluck up a hefty sweet potato to set beside the rest of his purchases. 

“Oh, well-” You start, stop with a small shake of your head as you smile all the wider. Utterly disarmed.

Cooper counts out the requested coin with a speculative hum, mirth sparking in his eyes as it seems he’s rendered you speechless. It’s down-right adorable if he’s being honest with himself. You’re a right little temptation he’d like to play with further. A dangerous thought.

Setting the coins onto the counter, he's swift in sweeping up his new bounty and stowing it all away into a pouch within his saddle bag. This close you're too bright and Cooper knows he's in trouble. Best to break away before you pull him into your orbit in full.

“You take care of yourself now, sweetheart,” Cooper drawls. He tips his hat towards you and turns away with spurs clicking. You watch him go, cheeks still flaming.

You know who he is. The Ghoul, the most famous Bounty Hunter the radiated Wastelands has to offer. You've heard all the rumors and truer tales about him all your life but nothing could prepare you for seeing him in the flesh. A dangerous sort of creature. A man who always brings his bounty in. 

You'd been watching him all day, stealing glances as you work. Now that you've seen him up close and personal? You're down-right fascinated. He’s nothing like the monster the stories painted him out to be. At least, he certainly wasn’t monstrous to you. There’s something captivating about him. Charming, even. 

You’ve seen ghouls before, of course. You know their kind as some live on the settlement with you. The majority end up shambling and ungainly, limbs no longer listening as the radiation rot wars with their regeneration abilities. A confusion that makes most of them uncoordinated and awkward in their transformed bodies, but The Ghoul? He’s got a swagger to his step that reminds you of those cowboys you’ve seen on ancient holotapes. 

He’s been lurking at the edge of your awareness all day, your head cocking in his direction to listen to the cadence of his voice as he bartered for bullets and talked business outside of the bar over yonder.

A thrill had jolted through you the moment he started to move towards your stall. The nervous energy thrumming through you had been made all the worse when you met The Ghoul’s gaze for the first time. A woman could find herself lost in such eyes and you’d certainly tripped right into them. Boldly meeting this stranger’s gaze and enjoying every second his attention was on you.

Shame he left so quickly. You sigh, turning back to count out bottlecaps he’d left as you turn your attention back to work. Best not to think about it. You’re unlikely to see that legend ever again.

[yanderedrabbles]

Misery - Part Three

Based on Misery by Stephen King

Stuck in the mountains, you foolishly decide to drive through a blizzard. The man that drags you from your wrecked car brings you to his cabin and patches you up. But as the snow piles up outside, you start to suspect that your rescuer's intentions may be far from pure.

Previous Chapter

After Andy left, you managed to change out of your clothes. The flannel shirt he gave you was worn down just enough to feel cozy and the smell of his cologne still lingered 'round the collar.

You settled against the headboard and almost dozed off before he came back. He'd taken off his jacket and carried a pile of firewood in his arms. He dumped the logs in the fireplace and stood up, revealing a wife beater and arms thick with muscle. You were right about his strength - his body was just further proof of it.

"Sorry 'bout that. I should have brought some in last night but well..."

He turned to you, dusting his hands. "I got a good look at the situation outside. You might not wanna hear it but we're totally snowed in. Phone lines are down too."

"Oh. I didn't realise it was that bad."

You felt a dull sort of trepidation. Andy had been nothing but kind to you, but being stuck out in the mountains frightened you.

"Any idea when things will open up again?"

He sat down in the chair beside your bed and stretched out. For a second, the only thought in your head was how dangerous and lean he looked. His dog tags caught the light and winked at you.

"Hard to tell. We're far off the beaten path. Only folks nearby are the Roydmans and they're a good few miles off. 'Sides, snows too deep to drive through so even if they clear off the main road, we ain't getting there anytime soon."

You felt your heart sink. "Do you think I need to go to the hospital?"

He raised a brow and skimmed his eyes across your body. "It ain't looking pretty, but I reckon you can handle it."

"Hurts like hell though."

"Sorry princess, but it'll take a while for this sort of hurt to heal. Best I can do is give you something strong for the pain."

Your ankle still throbbed mercilessly and hearing him say that made you all the more aware of it. You searched desperately around the room for a distraction.

The room was much larger than you realised, with a panelled wood ceiling and big bay windows. From your position, all you could see was the sky.

It was comfortable and starkly clean. Oh God, was this his room or a guest room?

"I haven't kicked you out of your room, have I?" you asked, suddenly unsure of yourself.

He grinned and rubbed his jaw. "I reckoned you needed a nice bed far more than I did."

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" Your hands fluttered to your lips. You felt terribly guilty. "I can't imagine how much I've put you out."

He waved you away. "It gets awful quiet up here. You have no idea how nice it is to have company."

His eyes dropped to the shirt you were wearing. "Real nice."

He reached up to play around with his dog tags and you finally noticed the tattoo across his forearm.

"Semper Fidelis?"

"Always loyal."

He reached forward and let you inspect his arm. You took hold of his wrist and traced the tattoo with your fingertips. The words themselves were small and neat, but the rest of it was an intricate pattern of barbed wire that wound round his forearm.

"Did it hurt?"

"Tell you the truth? It stung like a bitch."

He was watching your face and when you looked up at him, your eyes met. Those eyes on the other end of a gun would have sent you running for the hills. You pitied the soldiers that faced off against him.

You let go of his arm and swallowed.

"When did you get it?"

He let his forearm rest next to your thigh.

"When I was deployed for the first time."

He was close enough that you caught the scent of his cologne and the sweet smell of pine from the wood he chopped.

"How did you end up in the Marines anyway?"

"I've got you curious, do I?"

You felt yourself blush. "Maybe a little."

"Hmm." He rubbed at his jaw, like he was trying to rub away a smile.

"Maybe I'll tell you about it someday. For now though, you need to take some tablets and get some sleep."

"But what about you? I've kind of colonised your bed."

"First thing you learn in basic is to sleep standing up. I'll be fine sleeping on the couch. 'Sides, I ain't the one who went crashing off the road less than a day ago."

He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a blister pack of tablets.

"These are Novril. They pack a hell of a punch, so I expect you to sleep through the rest of the day. Best thing you can do right now is rest, got it?"

"Yes sir."

He dropped two shiny white pills into your open palm.

"Good girl. Now drink up."

He passed you a glass of water from the nightstand. The tablets left a slightly bitter taste behind, but you hurt too much to mind it.

Outside, the snow started up again.

You smiled at him. "How am I ever supposed to repay you?"

He studied you for a second.

The shirt you borrowed was missing a few buttons near the top and gaped open just a little at your tits, but you were too drowsy to notice.

He grinned that slow, lazy smile of his. "I'm sure you'll think of something, princess."

You hadn't fully realised just how intimate this all was. You were wearing his clothes. Sleeping in his bed. Entirely reliant on him to take care of you.

He stood up and shook his head.  "You must be hungry. Any requests?"

"Nope. I'll take anything at this point."

His eyes flickered to your chest and then quickly away. "I can make you regret that real fast, y'know."

"Come on, you can't be that bad of a chef."

He huffed and shook his head. "You just sit pretty and I'll be back."

He returned with a bowl of oats sprinkled with brown sugar. His fingers brushed yours when he handed it to you and he lingered for a second longer than needed.

"I'm afraid it's all hospital chow until you're stronger. It's too bad - I make a mean flapjack."

You played around with your spoon and then gave in. Plain oats or not, you needed your strength.

Andy was quiet while you ate, watching the snow swirl across the window.

He tugged at his dog tags again and spoke up, "Does anyone know you're out here? A boyfriend, a sibling, anyone that knows where you were headed?"

You carefully put your empty bowl down on the nightstand. With the tablets, the pain was mercifully retreating. Not gone, never entirely gone, but a tiny bit more manageable.

"No. I wanted to surprise a friend but they don't know I'm coming."

You felt unnaturally drowsy for this early in the day. He must have noticed it because he stood up and gently pressed at your shoulders.

"Lie down and I promise you'll be out like a light soon enough."

You listened to him and found your eyes drifting shut as soon as you hit the pillow.

"Y'know." Your voice was muffled by your pillow. "You're a really great guy."

"Thanks, but save that until after you're better, yeah?"

He pulled the duvet higher and carefully tucked it around your shoulders.

"Not a soul knows you're out here?"

You hummed in agreement. You were almost entirely asleep and barely felt the hand that drifted across your forehead, gently pushing the hair off your face.

"Just you and me, princess."

You didn't hear it, but there was a strange note to his voice. Fear, maybe. Or longing. Hard to tell, with how similar they can be.

Next Chapter [coming soon]

Masterlist

Taglist

@pleorexicz @lem-hhn @mybelovedjupiter

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 11.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, mentions of rape and abuse, mentions of breeding, mentions of death

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note: Things are about to take a turn, can you guess what's next?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

„Well... that sure was... something.“, Mitsuki says while staring after y/n.

„Tsk, I've told you she's got fire.“, Katsuki tells her smugly.

Part of him understands y/n's anger. Hell, he's angry with his mother too. He can't imagine what it must be like for y/n when people talk over your head. Katsuki knows that y/n isn't stupid. He's sure she figured out that this argument was about her. It's not like his mother tries to hide her disgust about y/n.

Suddenly, the entrance to the tent shifts and Katsuki half-expects y/n to enter the tent again. However, it's Kirishima who pokes his head into the tent. The red-haired man seems to shrink a bit when he spots Mitsuki.

„Uhm, hey chief, hate to interrupt but our scouts have returned from the kingdom. You might want to hear what they have to report.“, Kirishima informs Katsuki.

Katsuki gives him a firm nod and follows him outside. His mother is close behind him. Together they walk to the war tent. It's where the maps are and where the tribe plans its raids and strategic maneuvers. On their way there, they come face to face with multiple injured men. They're taken to the healers. Many of them are unconscious or clutching very bloody wounds.

„What happened?“, Katsuki wants to know but Kirishima only shrugs.

„Don't know any specifics only that the mission must've gone wrong.“, the man tells his leader. Katsuki scoffs. While his men often got injured due to their reckless fighting style, the sight is worrying.

Upon entering the tent, the men inside stiffen and give Katsuki and Mitsuki a sign of respect. Nobody dares to say a word.

„So?“, Katsuki barks, „What happened? Why are my men bleeding to death out there?“

A man in dirty armor stands up. He's not looking too good, actually. Katsuki guesses he's been with the scouts.

„We've been scouting out an area East of the mountains. It was a bit more inland, deeper into Todoroki's territory than usual. It's a rural area far off from any havens or big rivers so we didn't expect to run into any trouble. We were looking for small settlements that we could attack in the next few months.“, the man explained.

„And let me guess, you did run into trouble?“, Katsuki follows up and the man nods.

„Yes, we've just scouted out the area and landed to discuss which settlements would be the best to attack during our next flight when we were ambushed by Todoroki's soldiers. In all honesty, we didn't see them coming. They were hidden from the sight above and even upon landing, our dragons weren't alarmed.“, the man continues.

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows. Their dragons usually can smell prey from miles away. It's strange that none of them sensed the enemy. Moreover, it's quite the same as when y/n and him were ambushed by those bandits. Is this a coincidence? Or is there a connection between the two incidents?

„And then what? Don't tell me our mighty dragon warriors lost to a few mere human soldiers?“, his mother interrupts his trail of thoughts. The scout suddenly looks really pale.

„Well, there were just too many of them. We have no idea where they suddenly came from. We tried to fight them, but it got clear pretty quickly that they overpowered us in numbers. That's why we retreated.“, the man explains in a squeaky voice.

„Retreated? Since when do we retreat? We fight till death! We are warriors!“, his mother's voice booms to through the tent. All men looked at their feet not daring to meet their former chief's eyes.

„We've lost enough people the last few years. We can't afford to lose further tribe members by being reckless. You made the right call.“, Katsuki tells the men and indirectly puts his mother into her place. His mother scoffs and mutters something about cowards under her breath.

„So, how did the king know we'd send scouts to this place? Do we have a traitor among us?“, Kirishima changes the topic.

„The question is did he know or is he simply strengthening his forces?“, another man chirps in.

Katsuki isn't sure about that. They already noticed that there is a stronger military presence throughout the kingdom. He's sure that his tribe's attacks play a significant role in that. In the past few years they've raided more paces than they usually would. They've grown bolder, more desperate, and moved further inward. It might be that the king mistakes their raids for attempts to see how far they can get, to see if they can weaken the kingdom and overtake parts of their territory. Maybe the king doesn't see that these riots are due to the weakened state of the tribe, to ensure their survival.

Or maybe the king senses an opportunity to end the Dragonblood tribe once and for all. Strategically speaking, it wouldn't be a bad idea. The tribe lost strength and if there would be a fitting time to get rid of them once and for all, it would be now. Katsuki did his best to keep the plague a secret and make the tribe look strong on the outside. However, somehow some information must slipped through the cracks. It might be due to outside contacts like Deku or Uraraka. Katsuki refuses to believe there might be a traitor among them. The last thing they need is a riot.

Katsuki's quiet while his men start yelling and fighting in front of him. His mother nudges him. Waking out of his trance, he notices how his men are almost about to start a fistfight.

„Silence!“, he yells and his men freeze before letting go of each other and straightening their posture. 

„How many did we lose?“, Katsuki asks calmly.

„About 13 and counting. We don't know how many make it through the night.“, the scout tells him.

An eery silence befalls the tent. It's too many lives lost. Not even four children have been born this year to replace them. Plus, these children were born weakly and maybe won't live until adulthood. If this rate continues, the tribe will be gone before the end of the next decade.

„We need to bring in more women.“, Denki says into the silence. 

„Why that? These women only give us weak children! If any at that!“, another warrior comments. Some murmur in agreement. Kirishima looks conflicted and is very careful when he starts speaking.

„Maybe we should consider hiring men from other tribes. If they and their families settle with us, it will improve our situation from a strategic point of view.“, Krishima carefully proposes.

Immediately, men start speaking over each other.

„Bring in outsiders? No way, we can't trust them!“

„These outsiders can't compete with our strength!“

„They will piss themselves just at the sight of our dragons.“

„Silence!“, Katsuki yells once again. The volume comes down again and everybody looks at their leader expectantly.

„We're of dragon blood.“, Katsuki declares, „It's already humiliating that we have to mix our blood with those of commoners. At least that offspring will have some of our ancestors' strength in them.“

„Then what do we do?“, another man asks. Katsuki staightens his posture and lets his eyes wander through the tent.

„We lay low for a while. Scouts will fly in smaller groups. We stay on the outskirts of the Todoroki kingdom. Also, we should scout other kingdoms as well, such as the Yaoyorozu kingdom.“, he declares.

„What about raids?“, a man asks.

„We only hold small raids. Our focus will be bringing in as many females as we can. Leave gold and treasures behind. We only focus on the resources we really need.“, he tells them.

A murmur goes through his men. They don't like holding back. Katsuki understands them. There's no feeling more empowering than letting fire rain on an enemy and taking their treasures. But for now, they will have to focus on more important things.

„Kirishima, send a small scouting party to the Yaoyorozu kingdom. And get me that damn Deku here, goddamnit!“, he orders and pushes himself off the table he was leaning on.

„Now, get the hell out of here!“, he yells at his men. His men rumble and reluctantly leave the tent. Kirishima gives him a worried glance before leaving his friend and his mother alone. When they're alone, Katsuki turns to his mother.

„Do you understand now, Mother? Why I can't wait until one of our own is of age?“, he tells her.

Mitsuki stays silent in response.

~*~*~*~

Y/n's a shadow. She slips in between the tents trying to stay out of sight. Somehow it feels forbidden to seek out another woman. Luckily for her, the warriors of this tribe seem to hold a conference. It makes it easier for her to find her way back to Nadia and it also means that Nadia's husband won't be looming over her and they might just have a minute to talk.

When y/n found her way to Nadia's tent, she stands in front of it inconclusively. She's not sure how to make herself noticeable. It's not like they have a doorbell. Y/n takes a deep breath and decides to carefully enter the place. She pushes the fabric at the entrance away and pokes her head into the tent.

„Nadia?“, she softly calls out to the other woman when she can't see the other woman in the darkness of the tent.

Suddenly, there's rustling and the shuffling of feet. Nadia's face appears in front of y/n and she immediately grabs y/n's arm pulling her into the tent.

„What are you doing? Are you crazy? You can't just walk around in the middle of the day!“, Nadia whispers. Y/n gives her a bewildered look.

„What do you mean? Are you forbidden to go outside?“, she asks the pale woman.

„Aren't you?“, Nadia asks back carefully. 

Y/n thinks about this for a moment. Actually, she's not sure. It's not like she could understand Katsuki even if he told her about a rule like that. Then again Katsuki didn't seem too pissed when he saw her walking around earlier. He didn't even chase after her when she left his tent. Y/n shrugs.

„I don't know.“, she answers the other woman truthfully.

Nadia shakes her head in disbelief.

„You need to be more careful.“, Nadia tells y/n. Y/n furrows her brows.

„Why? What are you afraid of? Does your husband really forbid you to go outside?“, y/n rambles desperate to get some information out of Nadia.

Nadia looks into y/n's eyes for a few seconds silently before stating: „You really don't know anything, do you?“

It sounds accusing as if it's somehow y/n's fault that nobody tells her anything. At least not in a language she doesn't understand. Also, she doesn't think that Katsuki is the explaining type of guy.

„No.“, she tells Nadia calmly, „That's why I'm here. I don't understand what is happening. Please tell me everything you know.“

Nadia sighs deeply and then waves for y/n to sit down at a chair. She makes some tea before joining y/n. The women stay silent for another moment. Y/n is itching to pressure Nadia further. Before y/n can open her mouth, however, Nadia carefully asks:

„Do you know why they've brought you here?“

Y/n looks into her tea cup. It's a difficult question. She assumes that Katsuki brought her here because he liked her. A dreadful feeling starts to form in her stomach. What if that's not all? What if Katsuki has further plans for her?

Nadia takes y/n's silence as the answer.

„They brought you here for breeding.“, Nadia tells her without any emotions in her voice.

„E-excuse me?“, y/n asks taken aback. It's a word she has heard farmers use for cattle but never in the context of human beings.

„Have you seen any women around here? Probably not. It's because they're all dead. They bring us here so that we bear their children.“, Nadia explains.

Y/n stares at the woman. She puts down her tea cup. That... can't be right. No, Katsuki wouldn't do that. Of course, there was some tension between them and she's sure that if she'd let him, Katsuki would fuck the living daylight out of her but... not because of that. Because of... what actually? Love? Y/n almost has to laugh at that ridiculous thought. They've known each other for a couple of days. She's sure Katsuki is fond of her, but it's not love. Yet, a hopeful little voice says in the back of her head. Y/n shakes her head to get the thought out of her head.

„That's ridiculous.“, she tells Nadia. The woman leans back in her seat.

„A normal person might think like that. But these aren't normal people. They're monsters, barbarians who don't care about anything but themselves.“, Nadia answers. She sounds bitter.

„I'm sure Katsuki doesn't think that way“, y/n thinks out loud. Nadia's head whips upward.

„Katsuki? As in Katsuki Bakugou? Don't tell me you'll be married off to him!“, Nadia says in horror.

„I'm not sure about the marrying off part...“, y/n trails off.

„Did he put you into fancy clothes and paint and showed you off?“, Nadia asks. Y/n nods silently.

„Then he takes you. For himself or for one of his men, I don't know. Not that it would matter anyway. They're all the same.“, Nadia states.

Y/n crooks her head.

„Tell me Nadia, what did these people do to you that you think so lowly of them? So far, Katsuki wasn't cruel to me.“, y/n asks carefully. Nadia swallows hard.

„They attacked our village. When they've slaughtered most of the men, they rounded the women up. Some of us were chosen and taken to their camp. The others... I don't know raped or killed or both.“, Nadia says in a shakey voice. Clearly, the memory is hard for her.

„You've been taken here against your will?“, y/n asks even though she should be able to guess the answer.

„You weren't?“, Nadia asks again in disbelief. Y/n shrinks under her gaze. She feels as if she should feel ashamed for going with Katsuki.

„I didn't have much of a choice.“, she decides to reply. Nadia starts looking at her hands.

„Neither did we.“, she continues, „We've been brought back here. The men who chose us presented us to the chief who... I don't know, gave them his blessing or something like that. And then...“

Nadia doesn't finish the sentence. It sounds as if she's choking. Y/n doesn't see any tears glimmering in the dusk of the tent.

„Then what?“, y/n whispers breathlessly. She wants to know, even if it's horrible

„Then, the man who chose me took me back here. Violated and abused me right there on this bed.“, Nadia whispers back and points to the bed on the other side of the tent.

„Ever since then, I'm forced to live here as his wife or something. He continues to hurt me, to... He's not a kind man. I'm scared of him. Of him, of this place, of everything.“, Nadia whispers. 

Now, y/n sees the shimmer of tears on the other woman's face. She's at a loss for words. What can you say to a woman who is a victim to such terrible crimes? Y/n just bows her head and stares onto her own hands.

She's been blind. Blinded by Katsuki. By his strength that saved her. By the security his presence promises. She's heard the stories of the Dragonblood tribe. Was she really stupid enough to believe that they were all lies? She's seen what Katsuki can do to a few grown-ass men. Murder, abduction, and rape are all she connected to this tribe for years. After a few days with Katsuki and y/n lost all common sense. Mostly, she feels ashamed for not questioning this whole thing further. What kind of person just rides off with a strange man and his firebreathing beast? A stupid one.

„I'm really sorry.“, y/n whispers and takes Nadia's hand. Nadia grips her hand tight.

„Don't be. It's better you're prepared for what happens next.“, Nadia tells her.

Y/n doesn't have the courage to tell her that Katsuki isn't like that. Then again, could she say these words with confidence? She starts to realize that she doesn't know Katsuki at all. Maybe he is that kind of person. He seems to allow his men to commit these acts. So he either approves or doesn't care. Either way, it's bad.

„How many others are there? Women they've brought in?“, y/n asks Nadia. Nadia shrugs.

„I barely leave this tent. I'm too afraid and it's too cold out there anyway. The others probably feel the same, so there is no real way of knowing.“, Nadia tells her.

„You can't just rott here!“, y/n exclaims, „We should contact the other women. It's best if we stick together.“

Nadia looks up at her with tired eyes. Her posture is slumped. Y/n thinks that she looks a hundred years old right now even though she's not much older than y/n herself.

„Y/n...“, Nadia starts, „I can't. I'm too afraid and too tired. You don't know what it's like to do this day in and day out. Never knowing in what kind of mood he comes home.“

Nadia looks exhausted. As if she's already given up on everything and anything.

„Nadia, I'm sure we can do something!“, y/n tries to motivate her. 

The pale woman doesn't answer her. She just stares into her tea cup. Everything about her looks dull, y/n thinks.

Suddenly, there's clamoring outside. Voices of men and clashing of metal can be heard. Nadia bolts up.

„You need to go. You can't be here when he comes back!“, Nadia panics and grips y/n's arm. She pulls y/n onto her feet and starts pushing her out of the tent.

„Wait, there's still so much...!“, y/n starts and is interrupted by a sharp hiss by Nadia.

„You need to leave. Now. Or we're both not safe. Don't come looking me for a while. It's too dangerous. I'll find you soon“, Nadia spits out and pushes y/n completely out of the tent.

Y/n stares at the fabric in front of her. The last part sounded like a lie. She's sure Nadia won't try to find her and start something. She's too much in survival mode.

~*~*~*~

It's already dusk when y/n is pushed out of Nadia's tent. Men light torches next to their tents and along the paths around the settlement. Keeping Nadia's words in mind, she tries to avoid the men. Most of them, however, don't pay attention to her or only give her curious looks. No one yells at her or tries to drag her back to Katsuki's tent. It makes her wonder how seriously Nadia's explanations should be taken.

Y/n wanders aimlessly around until the sun has set completely and only the torches illuminate the settlement. Men retreat to their tents and the smell of food lingers in the air. Just then, y/n notices how hungry she is. She only had a small breakfast before the presentation. She was too nervous to get much down. Nevertheless, she doesn't want to return to Katsuki. At least not yet.

Her head is pulsing with information she can't really process. She hoped that visiting Nadia could help her navigate this place somehow, to better understand Katsuki and the others. However, Nadia confused her more than it helped. Her own perception of Katsuki and the tribe is so different than Nadia's. 

Y/n considers trying to find other women. There must be others that speak her language. Nadia said that multiple women from her village were taken. But since most men returned to their homes, y/n doesn't dare to just open a random tent and peek into it. She promises herself to look into it tomorrow.

When her hands and feet grow too cold, y/n decides she must go inside soon. Somehow she's not ready to find Katsuki yet. Sleeping a night separate from him would be best. Close proximity to Katsuki makes her mind and emotions unpredictable. She needs to clear her head and find a focus.

Unfortunately, she doesn't know any place to go. She considers looking for the tall red-haired man but then again it's likely he settled down for the night as well. And there's no way of telling what his tent is. 

So, the only place she does know is the great red's den. Y/n shudders at the thought of having to cross paths with all the other dragons in order to get there. Y/n figures that if they didn't attack her earlier, they probably won't attack her now. She's probably just a fly to them.

The path to the dragons' living space is not as lit as the rest of the settlement. Y/n steals one of the last torches at the outskirts of the settlement. The path is uneven and y/n stumbles over her feet a couple of times. The darkness doesn't bother her. Her people often camped in forests or mountainsides. She's used to hearing strange noises at night or walking in the darkness of the night in order to pee. When she's at the gorge's entrance, she halts for a moment. In contrast to earlier, the place lies in absolute silence. Maybe all the dragons are asleep?, she thinks before taking a deep breath and entering the dragon-occupied territory. 

Luckily, she remembers the path to the great red's den well so she walks at a fast but quiet pace. She keeps her eyes low, focused on the path. It's best not to make any eye contact with a dragon. Especially not one of the scary black ones. Her eyes flicker up when she's close to the den. Y/n lets out a shaky breath in relief. She made it!

Suddenly, a hot stenchy breath hits her shoulders and face. Y/n freezes in her step. Don't look, don't look, she tells herself. Another hot steam hits her face. It's hotter than before and closer. The dragon must be right beside her. How did she not notice a giant lizard crawling up on her. 

Y/n hears the giant creature shuffle closer. Go away, go away, she prays in her mind. A huge, scaley snout shoves her shoulder. The pressure pushes her over and y/n lets out a loud yelp before dropping to the side and letting go of her torch. Instinctively, she tries to shuffle away from the creature that now completely comes into view. It's a green one. Y/n is sure that the beast must have a bilious green shade in broad daylight. A color as poisonous and deathly as the breath y/n is forced to smell. 

The dragon is smaller than the black ones, maybe even than the blue ones. In contrast to those and the great red, it has no horns at the side of its head but a row of sharp spikes from the middle of its head all the way over its spine to its tail that is crowned with two longer, crescent-shaped spikes. Cunning red eyes watch y/n's every move. If y/n wasn't panicking, she probably would've thought that they looked similar to Katsuki's eyes. The pupils of the dragon are formed into fine slits and y/n is sure it is focusing on its prey right now. The prey being her of course. 

The creature snarls at y/n and snaps at her. It's enough to make y/n yell out in fear. However, it's clear that the dragon did not intend to truly catch her in between those sharp teeth of its mouth. It's playing with me, y/n thinks. But not in the cute way that the small ones did earlier. More like a cat playing with a mouse. Making it dance and bleed before snapping it in two. It's cruel and befitting for a dragon, y/n thinks. 

It kind of makes her angry, too. Clearly, this is an intelligent creature. It makes her sick to the stomach thinking about that this is how she's supposed to die. I can't fight it, y/n figures. And I shouldn't provoke it either. My only chance is to make a break for the red one's den. 

Y/n tries not to advert her gaze. If she looks into the direction of the den now, it'd be a dead giveaway. She tries to collect herself, to even her breathing. She closes her eyes for a second and tries to set her intention. When she opens her eyes again, she's met with the burning red ones of the dragon. She gives it a determined stare. I'm not going to back down, I'm not going to die, she recites in her mind over and over again as she slowly stands up keeping her posture bowed and small. She takes one deep breath before starting a sprint in the den's direction.

She can hear the yelping sound of surprise behind her and the massive stomps of the beast following her. Suddenly, electricity lies in the air. For a moment the air seemed to become cooler. Y/N's heart starts racing. She's felt this before. Right before the great red burned that man into ashes. That's it, y/n thinks while quickly sliding down in a sad attempt to dodge the fire.

However, the flames don't reach her because suddenly the great red is standing right in front of her spewing its own fire. Y/n turns back and sees the fire of the green one meet the red one's in a firestorm. Seeing it side by side, y/n thinks that the green dragon's fire has a hint of blue in it in contrast to the red one's fire which is just a glowing red and orange. The green one cannot keep up with the red one's firepower and retreats. The red one throws an eardrum-busting roar after it. Y/n's hands race up to her ears protecting herself from the sound.

Small fires still smolder on the ground when the red dragon resumes its fighting stance. It turns to y/n and she's sure the look the great red gives her is angry. She's so sure about that since Katsuki has the same wild, untamed look in his eyes when he's angry. The red one snarls at her and retreats into its den. Y/n doesn't wait a single second to follow it inside.

„I'm really sorry for just showing up here, you know“, she rambles, „I don't want to go back to Katsuki and I didn't know where else to go. You see the situation is really complicated and...“

Y/n stops her spewing of words mid-sentence. What even is she doing here? Talking to a dragon? Y/n drops her arms to her sides. Suddenly, she feels exhausted and desperate and just... done. This day has been so frustrating. Y/n stares intensely at the ground.

What am I even doing here?, she thinks. Like literally, what am I doing? Following a total stranger who has a terrifying reputation back to his tribe of brutes and warriors? Walking straight into dragon territory? It's like all my logical thinking has gone out of the window since the moment I met Katsuki.

Y/n feels hot tears pour out of her eyes and down her cheeks. 

This is so stupid. I'm so stupid.

Maybe it's wrong to blame Katsuki for this. Maybe her making bad decisions started when the world started to fall apart. When the sickness took first her mother and then her father. When her brother left. Why didn't she follow him? Maybe she couldn't have joined the military but she would've made a fine nurse. Why on earth did she think she was better off alone?

Her tears hit the ground. She tries not to let out any sobs. Somehow showing weakness in front of the dragon is humiliating. Nonetheless, she can't help but cower to the ground. She remembers the first day with Katsuki. When she was all alone in the woods and the weight of everything that had happened started to crush her down. She feels the same right now. Only like ten times worse. At least back then she could've had the chance to return to the kingdom, find her brother, do something.

Right now, she's stuck. Her actions are so very limited. She can't tell these people what she wants or doesn't want. Also, she's sure that Katsuki and that blonde woman couldn't care less about what y/n wants. Katsuki didn't even ask her if she wanted to come along. He just assumed and put her onto the back of his dragon. He also didn't ask or even attempt to explain to her what happened this morning. When suddenly three strange women stripped her down and dressed her up like a playdoll.

Maybe Nadia's right. These people do not care about her or the other women. Maybe they do only care about producing children. Maybe that's what Katsuki wants. Maybe him liking her is just a plus point. A little extra he gets because he's the big scary leader.

Y/n pulls her hair at the roots. She lets out a choked scream. She's angry and desperate and so, so frustrated. 

Suddenly something nudges her foot. It's one of the little red dragons from earlier. It looks up to her with almost puppy-like eyes and it nestles its head against her leg like a kitten. Y/n lets out a raspy breath she didn't notice she was holding. Furiously, she rubs her eyes.

How silly, she thinks, it's not like crying will help it. She pats the little one's head and suddenly another little one appears on her side. Before she can help it, she's getting tackled again. This time, they're softer than before. Competing for head pats rather than trying to sink their baby teeth into her arms and legs. It's like they are sensing y/n's bad mood and trying to cheer her up.

A giggle rises in y/n's throat and she tries to swallow it down. As she tries to give each of them a head pat, the great red moves over to her and nudges her with its snout as well. Y/n knows better than to touch it without permission. She gives it a small smile however and she believes seeing something like content in its eyes.

Eventually, the little red ones grow tired of tackling y/n and set to rest against the great red. The bigger dragon shifts its wing like it did when y/n and Katsuki looked for shelter under them during the rain. Y/n takes it up on the invitation and slides in between the little ones. She leans against the red's tummy. While the little dragons fall asleep around her and even the great red's breathing starts to slow down, y/n stays wide awake in the darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[ms0milk]

when you suddenly catch a nasty cold

gn!reader ft. todo, bkg, kiri, and (hearts in my eyes) shinsou

i am so ill and these are so silly, indulge me :,) 600ish words ea.

Todoroki starts to cry when you joke about dying.

He’s bought more flowers than can fit into your little apartment, picked up your prescriptions, tissues, juice, a heating pad, cleaned your kitchen, tucked you in– he paged the fucking family physician– but watching you shiver under a heavy duvet, surrounded by all the things that are supposed to help you get better, ignites a fear he didn’t know that he had. They aren’t working. You’re still sick because of course you are, and he can’t bring himself to move more than an arm’s length away from you because what if– if he leaves and–

“Shoto?”

“Yes,” his response is immediate when you pull him from the ether. Always is.

I’m not going anywhere,” you croak, too conscious of how strange your voice sounds, “so you don’t have to stay with me all day.”

“I don’t mind.”

Todoroki is a wonderful boyfriend but when was the last time he went to the bathroom?

“You must be bored.”

He leans over you from his spot at the side of your bed and runs a blessedly too-cold hand across your forehead. Bored? Like he could calm down enough for that. “I can’t relax when you’re like this.”

You’d roll your eyes if they ached less, at your beautiful boyfriend and his cluelessly shoujo declarations of love framed by no fewer than two whole flower shops worth of camellias. He turns his hand over to palm your cheeks and wipe the water from your puffy eyes.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You shake your head, smiling under the weight of an overkill of blankets and the heavy dip from his butt at the edge of your mattress. You’re inclined to reach a hand out to grab it, but you don’t have the energy to raise your head let alone fondle your boyfriend.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with in my final hours,” you rasp, joking, obviously joking.

This cold is something evil, chills, aches, snot– the works. But you couldn’t ask for a better nurse. A gentle, thoughtful, sexy, temperature controlled man, a man you would raze the city for, whose hand fits so perfectly in yours and who– whose trembling? You blink back up.

Todoroki’s features don’t shift or soften, his lip doesn’t quiver, but a tear does slip down his cheeks from those pool cool eyes– one after the next until his jaw is lined with them all patiently waiting to fall from his chin.

“Why, why why?” You panic and try to sit up but he comes to you. Todoroki cups your hand tightly in a hot and cold grip and bows over his own lap to rest his head in yours.

“You’re not going to die.”

“What?”

“I promise.”

“Sho, what– no of course I’m not. What’s wrong, baby?”

Your voice is so weak that he has no other choice than to sit back up and reach for the cold compress. He wipes his eyes with renewed determination when he turns back around, “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, Sho. ’m not going anywhere, promise.”

And when the Todoroki family doctor lets himself in, he does consider coming back another time at the sight of you, finally comfortable under a mountain of fabric, and your love curled around you asleep on top of the blankets.

———

It’s not until you genuinely collapse that Bakugou realizes something is wrong. He didn’t even hit you that hard.

“You’re wide open today!” The restless pro looms across the arena, grinning. You both come to the agency’s underground ring on Saturdays to train and he’s blasted you clear across the room like he’s actually working for a paycheck.

There wasn’t any amount of money you would have accepted to get out of bed this morning but Bakugou, a less than casual hookup from work, accidentally spent the night and the surprisingly sleep soft rumble of his voice, the gentle kneed of palms as he pulled you back against his body under dawn light– was, persuasive.

The sooner we finish, the sooner I can go home and nurse this headache.

Headache. Naive self-convincing circles your head as you pull yourself to your feet like spinning stars from a goddamned cartoon. This is not a headache. Standing was fine a second ago, and the floor was fine a second ago, but the move from floor to feet fills your sinuses with sudden pressure and immediately the arena starts to swirl.

“C’mon twinkle toes, you’re– Y/n– shit–”

You’re not interested in where that sentence ends today and you blessedly don’t have to hear it because your ears have filled with cotton and you’re sinking back down to your knees. You’ve been congested like this before– it’ll pass in a minute or two, you know how it goes and you’re only embarrassed by the fact you were down so bad for your teammate this morning that you didn’t realize how your body had started to feel.

The vertigo eases somewhat when you rest your head on the ground, but Bakugou has cleared the empty room and already has his domineering hands all over you. “Y/n? Y/n– do not close your eyes.”

“‘m not concussed, Kats.” But you know the explosive hero’s first fear isn’t exactly a head trauma. “You didn’t hurt me,” you add.

“Doesn’t narrow it down shitforbrains,” the aggressive tone doesn’t match his anxious hold though, and you melt a little when he kneels and pulls you into his lap, “if I didn’t hurt you then what’s wrong?”

Bakugou definitely doesn’t like the way your head seems too heavy for your neck and tilts himself back just enough for you to lean it against his chest. You look so fucking uncomfortable, scowling, eyes pinched closed. “What hurts?” He rasps as he moves to feel your temperature but his palms are sweating hard from a few quirk ignitions so he stalls, and lowers his forehead to yours instead. You’re soft where he touches you, warm in his hands.

You just need to sit, you don't need the #2 hero to cradle you in his arms like a corpse on the battlefield. Your eyes squeeze shut harder as a tiny wave rocks you in the dark and then suddenly one ear releases. “Think I’m getting sick,” you breathe. Carmel in and relief out. “It’s my head–”

“Head hurts?”

“I’m just stuffed up, I–” the other ear releases, “— just dizzy.”

Bakugou sits on his heels, perched. Should he pick you up? It’s terrifying to watch– you, his teammate, a capable hero, suddenly unable to stand.

But as the pressure behind your eyes levels out you can lift your head without discomfort. You can bring your arms up around Bakugou’s shoulders and settle your fingers in his hair. Bring him back down from where he’s tried to pull away.

Your foreheads bump again, “I’m okay.”

He growls, “I don’t believe you.”

So the hero takes you home. He makes sure you’re horizontal and goddamned tucked in before he slips from your front door and scares the shit out of you an hour later with a vice grip on some grocery bags and your apartment keys slipped around his middle finger. It’s almost romantic, the way he snaps at you to hold still while he dabs antiseptic on your scratches from sparring, or glares venom from behind the stove when you hobble to the kitchen to see what smells so good.

———

When Kirishima lets himself in and you’re asleep on the kitchen floor, worry overrides his confusion.

You won’t pick up his calls, but he’s never missed a movie night and he’s not about to start today. He throws your front door open with his copy of your apartment key and kicks off his gym crocs as loudly as he can manage so you might hear him come in. The last thing he wants is to startle you.

But you’re the one who nearly kills him when he slips through the genkan, arms full of snacks and catches sight of your slippered foot stretched out on the ground around the corner.

He’s on his hands and knees faster than he can even take a full step, dropping bottles and soft melon bread from his arms as he scrambles to where you must be lying lifeless on the other side of the entrance.

“Y/n–! Ah, huh.”

And you are, in a way, lifeless on the ground, but you’re breathing. And smiling? Curled up on the white tiles in front of the sink cabinet.

“Y/n?” Kirishima doesn’t wait to ponder, instead placing a hand on the side of your head to check for concussion, wound, vertebral injury—But you coo, something completely unintelligible, and you’re much too warm. You tilt your face into his palm and every inch of you is hotter, damper than the next.

“Y/n? C’mon on back to me Y/n, gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the chill of the floor or the addition of his other hand cupping your cheek, but your lashes heft apart just enough to register who it is trying to resuscitate you in the kitchen.

“Ei?”

Kirishima, always handy in a fire, has every hospital route an EMT could ever need memorized from all his volunteer work with the fire department and mentally tracks each one as you try to form a sentence.

“shouldn’t be here, Eiji, m’sick.”

“What?”

“flu,” you murmur and pull your hands to your side to try and rise. Kirishima doesn’t register anything not directly related to whether or not you’re suffering from blunt force trauma– except for the fact he could recall the exact date and time your dream drowsy smile falls and perks back up again tonight for the next fifty years.

“–tried to text you,” you manage as the redhead helps you sit up. The sentence comes out in gasps instead of coughs as you try to spare the air of any extra germs, “I can’t watch the movie tonight."

He laughs with pent up anxiety and simultaneous relief– he’s taken that charming fireman’s knee at your side and you wish in your flu-addled state that you’d stayed unconscious long enough for him to hoist you into his arms. Instead, Kirishima places both of his big soft hands back around your face to brush away the dust and crumbs.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“got hungry,” you admit because you know it’ll make him smile, and with his face this close to yours you’ll be able to watch the skin around his eyes crinkle up too. “Then tired, little dizzy. I just needed to sit for a bit.”

His eyes do crinkle up. And his teeth bit at his lip like he’s trying not to be amused.

“Y/n, you are very sick. And very sweaty.” And the sweetheart, the biggest crush you’ve ever had, your closest friend, the man you dreamed of on the kitchen floor, asks if he can carry you to the bath.

———

Why are you breathing so hard? Shinsou is the only pro in the office that you can’t hide a fucking thing from. Maybe it’s because he works primarily in the underground– observant– that it’s obvious, the way you wobble on your feet when your eyes are closed too long, or the sudden effort it takes you just to climb the stairs.

How can he focus on paperwork with you trying to subtly catch your breath in every hallway? None of your sidekicks are brave enough to ask why you wore a mask to work today, but it’s summer and the air pollution gets bad enough that some of them have to too. Are they really all that stupid? Has he done the worst hiring job of any pro in the city?

“Shinsou,” you murmur across the now-empty end of day office and he whips around because god knows how many times you’ve tried to get his attention while he’s been off in space.

“Yeah boss?”

Your voice is rough with sick when you reply and it would be so fucking sexy if it didn’t remind him to be so anxious about your wellbeing. “I’ve told you not to call me that, haven’t been my sidekick for years,” and then you’re smiling even as you hold back a cough, “makes me feel old.”

“You are older than me.”

“By a year!” you sputter and then your lungs take over, heaving and hacking so hard you have to double over your desk to steady your forehead against something. Shinsou’s on his feet immediately, navigating the office in sweats and his capture gear.

What happened? This morning it was just a tickle at the top of your throat but the aches sank from your head, down your spine, and flooded through your body just as quickly as the sun’s shadow crawls across a stone. Which is to say, all day long and all too slowly to realize you probably should have called in sick.

“Here.” A cool hand materializes on the back of your neck and you roll your head to the side to check what exactly has arrived for you. With his free hand Shinsou presses a paper water cup forward, which you’d love to take if you had the energy to pull your mask down.

“went to school together n’ everything,” you breathe.

“Boss, you should go home for the night, I’ll– I can finish this paperwork.”

By now the dark-eyed hero has sunk slowly into a crouch beside your chair and keeps a careful hand on your back to ensure you don’t slip to the floor sideways one way or the other. Thank god he sent the rookies home because stupid or otherwise, you'd have to be braindead not to notice this adoration that he can’t seem to get a handle on.

“Shinsou,” you murmur again, just as sexily as last time and he feels just as much if not more shame at how lovely it is to hear you call to him sweet and low, “I can’t get up.”

“What?”

That’s it though. There’s no trick or test. Shinsou has a fucked up sleep schedule from all his overnight patrols so he always stays in the office late, but you? You’ve been trying to rally for the last two hours and now you’ve used all your energy teasing a man whose eyes go bright every time you say his name. It serves you right, collapsing at your desk after using the last of your strength to squeeze as many Shinsous as you could into an evening.

“call me a taxi?”

He rises to his feet, “Will you even be able to get up your front steps?”

“sure hope so.”

“Do you feel nauseous?” He’s shuffling around the room now, plucking keys from hooks, and you watch him sideways with your head still resting in the day’s paperwork. “You gonna aspirate if I let you go home alone?”

“if god’s feeling extra silly”

He scoffs to hide the smile. Shinsou returns to your side to lay his faded denim jacket over your shoulders and then crouches again at eye level.

“Y/n,” he urges, and rests a hand to the back of your head to get your attention, “If I carry you downstairs, will you be able to hold onto me?”

Downstairs is a bluff. With you snug and mostly unconscious between his jacket and his back, Shinsou carries you home. Face full of your clothes, hair, quirk, whatever’s getting in his eyes, under the stars, and down back streets to avoid any publicity, the hero tries to walk gently enough that you don’t whimper from the impact of his steps.

“Thank you Toshi,” you whisper just when he thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and the big bad underground pro almost stumbles hard enough to fly.

[lunaekalenda]

"Our first kiss was here." Satoru speaks while walking by your hand, stopping in front of one of the Jujutsu High entrances, decorated with big wood doors and high trees. You remember it, a specially hot day of summer, right before entering work, some years ago.

"I was so nervous, and the kiss was so messy..." Satoru frowns at your words, turning to face you. Your hand is still caged on his big one, and he takes the glasses away to look directly into your eyes.

"Messy? I remember it was really cute." He sits on a near bench, pulling you to sit on his lap. You feel your cheeks heating up as he starts to speak. "You were so cute that day... Well, you're always cute." Your laugh makes him smile, his hands running up and down your hips, his breath tickling your nape and his heart racing as much as yours. Spring is about to arrive, and the mountains are vivid green, decorated with explosions of pink and lavender. A sweet breeze takes away the hotness of the sun and plays with Satoru's white hair. He sighs.

"That day I wanted to say so many things to you, but still I was unable. I wanted to take your hands on this exact bench and just let everything escape. Lucky you today we have plenty of time, and I have way more things to say." His voice makes you turn towards him with curiosity, and he smiles, taking a hand to your cheek while the other keeps you balanced by your hips. "I wanted to tell you how much I liked you. How adorable is whenever you can't find a spot to leave your bicycle when you arrive, how cute you look when you apply chapstick quickly before entering work. I wanted to let you know that I could see you sleep for hours and that when you wake up, dressed in golden sun rays by my side, I feel the luckiest man alive. Because, from everyone in the world, you decided to share it with me. And you can't even imagine how big that is, love. You chose me. You always let me know the reason why you cry, and you let me calm you and assure you until I can see your smile again. You open yourself for me, you trust me and I keep that as a treasure. I'm able to hold you on your best days, but also on your worsts." Satoru kisses your shoulder before speaking again. "I could hear you speak about that novel you're reading for hours if that means you're gonna speak passionately about something you enjoy, and I will carry you to bed again and again, every single day you fall asleep watching a movie or playing a game on the couch. I will leave the blanket on your side when we sleep because I know you can't fall asleep if you're cold, and I will always keep an extra sugar cube on my pocket because you like your coffee sweet." your eyes feel teary, and he takes the first tear away with his thumb. The way he looks at you is so pure, so full of love and admiration, you can't take your eyes away from him. You take air. Your feelings feel way too big for your chest, and pressing your lips to his, you try to tell him everything you can't reach with words. How much you love him, how grateful you are, how lucky you feel to be able to spend your life with him. He kisses you back, hungrily, desperately, making you feel that he understood you and that he feels the same. He parts shortly, caressing your hips back, before standing up. "Let's go home, love. I still have a lot of things to say, a lot of things to show and a lot of things to do to you. "

[tortureddarkstar]

✩ LET THE MAN FROM THE MOUNTAINS RUN AWAY WITH YOUR HEART

✩ moodboard: domesticity with dean winchester

✩ most pics are from pinterest!

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 15 - Incubus Sex]

Pairing: Dom!Yoongi x sub f.Reader x sub!Taehyung

Genre: Incubus!Yoongi, Best Friends to Lovers!Tae x OC, Supernatural!AU

Kinks: sex in a secluded winter cabin, summoning of a sex demon, Yoongi is a lot taller and beefier than them, he also has four arms <3, and he has a split tongue and demon fangs and horns and he’s hot, god I’m such a monster fucker hahaha, dirty talk, praise, good girl & good boy kink, examination play, breast play, nipple massages, cunnilingus, rimjob, thigh riding, guided male masturbation, handjob, anal fingering, male self fuck (Tae stuffs his own ass with his own balls), he also has to jerk off in front of her while she rides Yoongi’s thigh, leather kink, pussy rubbing, multiple orgasms, magical demon spit that makes them hornier, male anal sex, magical cocks (Yoongi can shapeshift his cock), he shapeshifts it to an anal toy and fucks Tae with it while Tae has to eat her out, then later they share Yoongi, she rides his face & he gets bounced on his cock, pissing from cumming too hard, tears & screams of pleasure, aftercare

Wordcount: 10.8k

a/n: all you had to do was mention the summoning of sex demon yoongi and i knew that i had to write this fadsnfan you also wanted best friends to lovers with Tae & OC sooooo this story is filled with tension and flirting and bruh unhinged sex fsdfna have fun you little whores 🖤 ps: yoongs looks way too innocent in the header bahaha

“Do you think this is a good idea? I watched horror movies which started like this”, you told your best friend two months ago when he came running to you with the idea of going on a winter holiday together.

“Horror movies aren’t real life. It’s going to be great”, he answered and the plan was set. 

You look around the place, breath coming out as white fog and nose chilly from the air. It has been snowing the entire car ride, but stopped five minutes ago. The snow sits under your feet and atop the roof of the wooden cabin. The trees carry a thick blanket as well, smaller branches bending under the weight.

The snow scrunches beside you, a deep exhale of a human follows. You turn your head, laying eyes on Taehyung’s flushed face. He is carrying both your bags, grinning from ear to ear.

“You still think this is a good idea?”

“Positivity ___, this is the best idea.”

“We stopped having signal around five kilometres back.”

“Let’s just see it as our own little digital detox.” He shoulders the bags. “Besides, this cabin has a landline.”

He walks up the three steps. You follow close behind, looking at your own feet in order not to slip and die.

“Yeah, until a serial killer decides to cut the line and murder us with an axe. I saw the movies, Tae.”

“Hush, no more talk about serial killers. This is a good idea.”

“Until it’s not.”

Taehyung turns. You collide with him, hands on his chest and lips dangerously close to touching his’. You inhale sharply, heart tightening in your chest. He is your best friend, but man, the way you feel for him would say otherwise. But that isn’t important right now. Your current situation is. You but a breath away from accidentally kissing him and him looking down at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Stop being such a nagging party pooper. This is a good idea.”

You watched his lips move as he talked. They are still moving. You don’t know what he is saying.

“___?”

“Huh?” you rip out of your trance, looking into his eyes.

He cocks his brow up at you.

“Can you unlock the door before we freeze out here?”

“Oh, uh, yeah sure”, you mumble, taking out the keys you got at the camp reception to unlock the cabin. You try to regulate your pulse while you do it, hoping that Taehyung can’t see your fingers tremble just a little. Your worries are for naught because Taehyung has his back turned to you, taking in the view.

The camp you currently find yourselves in consists of ten wooden cabins sprawled around a large lake and nestled into a valley between mountains and thick forests. If one wishes to do so, one can go ice skating on the lake or wander through the snowy woods. The mountains offer various skiing slopes and opportunities to go sledding. It was Taehyung’s idea to go on a best friend holiday together because the colder months have been stressful at both your jobs. The idea itself was amazing – not only because you could selfishly pretend that this holiday was romantic – if it wasn’t for the camp’s reputation of being as close to nature as possible. The cabin had electricity and warm water, but no internet or access to civilisation. Granted, there was the reception cabin with its restaurant, but it is five kilometres away from you behind a wall of thick forest and only reachable by a rocky road. If it wasn’t for Taehyung’s 4-wheel-drive jeep and his trusty snow chains, you most definitely would have gotten stuck already.

Taehyung called staying at this camp the perfect opportunity to forget capitalism and what it does to your nerves, you still call it a bad idea which will end in serial killer attacks.

The cabin is still chilly when you enter because there was no electrical heating installed, just one fireplace. 

“I’m freezing my ass off”, you whine, rubbing your own arms to create warmth.

“Carry the bags to our rooms. I’m getting firewood from outside”, Taehyung says and disappears through the door.

It doesn’t take him long to return to you standing in the living room with a face of horror carved deeply into your features.

“What happened? Did you see a serial killer?” he jokes, carrying big logs of wood in his arms.

“So we might have a problem and don’t lose your shit, okay?”

“Okay?”

He squats down in front of the fireplace, stacking the wood neatly.

“There is only one bed.”

He stops in his movements for a moment. You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction. The movements continue.

“I know.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach before a million butterflies lift it again.

“What do you mean you know?”

“I booked the cabin, didn’t I?”

“Yeah well, but…huh? You knew?”

“Sure I did.” He uses his lighter to start the fire, bending down to blow into the small flame until it grows and starts gnawing on the first log. He stretches out his hands, rubbing them together to warm them.

When you stay silent, he stands up and turns.

“Why? Is this a problem? We shared a bed before.”

“Yeah, when we were teens at summer camp with my mom. That’s so different.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“Yeah it is”, you throw back, crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

You have a weird way of hiding your massive crush on him. Whenever there is the slightest hint of blurring the lines, you pretend to be annoyed by the situation. It is childish, you are aware of it, but you also want to minimise damage as much as possible. If Taehyung would be the first to snuff out the delusions, it would ruin you. So you make sure to always kill whatever spark might form between you and him. This technique has helped you survive with your stupid feelings for him for more than eight years now.

You were twenty when you realised that the fondness you had for him was way more than just the fondness for a friend. You were twenty one when you realised that said fondness will never be reciprocated when he got a girlfriend and proceeded to date her for five years. Granted, you dated someone as well for three years of that, but your feelings for him never went away. You were twenty six when he broke up with his girlfriend and you started to have hopes again. You were barely twenty seven when you decided to keep your feelings to yourself and only stay his best friend, you were too scared to ruin what you had.

You are twenty eight now and your feelings for him are as strong as they could ever be and pretending that blurring the lines annoys you gets harder and harder by the day. But you have to. What if you are only imagining it? What if he doesn’t feel the same?

Taehyung scrunches his brows at your reaction, crossing his arms in front of his chest as well.

“I didn’t think that the bed would be such a bother to you. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll sleep on the couch”, he says and pouts.

Now That you don’t want.

“No, it’s just…I packed my ugliest PJs, it’s embarrassing.”

He scoffs, features softening.

“You’re so weird. As if I ever cared about the state of your sleepwear. Do you wanna start with dinner?”

You take a deep breath. The situation is saved. You made sure the lines stopped blurring and he wouldn’t be angry at you.

“Sure. I’m so down for ramen tonight.”

“Nice, me too. We could go searching for herbs in the forest. To elevate the taste.”

“No, you stay here. The last time you tried to cook with herbs from the forest, you had the shits for three days.”

“How could I forget? My asshole was so raw afterwards. I swear I thought that I shat out my insides at one point.”

“Nice. Thanks for that image”, you say sarcastically.

Taehyung laughs. You join him a second later, exchanging a sneaky glance with him. He is so beautiful without even trying. If only your morals were a little more twisted, you would kiss his stupid smile away. Taehyung breaks the eye contact, rolling his lower lip between his teeth as he gets on his tiptoes to get a pot from the upper cupboard. Are your eyes deceiving you or did he gulp after he ended the eye contact?

No, don’t be ridiculous. You shake your feelings away and busy yourself with unloading the groceries you got for the week.

The next town was twelve kilometres away. You drove through it on your way to the camp. It consisted of one main road and straight lines of side roads. It had no town centre and every important shop was located along the main road. The townsfolk looked at you with grim eyes and tight lips as you rolled pass them. The clerk in the supermarket barely wanted to greet you, let alone wish you a safe journey. You called the town proof for serial killers while Taehyung called you ridiculous. You were joking of course, but it was fun to tease him a little. You liked when he threw back a witty remark.

You eat the ramen in front of the fire, sitting on a few cushions on the floor and with blankets draped over your shoulders. It is very warm and cozy and your initial distaste for the remote location was gone.

“It’s so quiet out here”, you say.

“Yeah, right?”

You and Taehyung have finished dinner by now, you have already washed the dishes and are now warming your feet by the fire, sitting next to each other. Your arms are almost touching.

Taehyung rolls his head back and closes his eyes. You study him. The fire shines onto his neck, you are so close that you can see his skin texture. You are so insane, but you swear that your tongue knows exactly how it would feel like to lick him there. He inhales deeply and exhales through his nose.

“I really needed this. Work’s been dragging me down.”

You break your eyes away from his neck, staring at the flames instead. You are such a dirty woman. 

“I get you. I’m so glad that I announced my break months ago and I could say a big fat goodbye to the projects coming in this week.”

Taehyung chuckles, “so much for team comradery.”

“Yah”, you slap his stomach gently, “you know exactly how shitty Yunjin and Mina are when it comes to being good colleagues. At least the team knew that I would be gone two months prior unlike them who announce it a week prior.”

“I know, I was just teasing you. You’re cute when you whine.”

“Sorry?”

He smiles languidly and peels one eye open to look at you.

“Nothing”, he says and closes his eye again.

You gulp, tugging at the collar of your jumper. Your face is burning hotter than the fire. You swear that you actually felt your ovaries throb at his words. You are so shocked that you have no chance to pretend to be annoyed by the blurring of lines before Taehyung already talks again.

“Thinking about all the work I left behind is glorious, you’re right. God, I can’t wait to come back to work and have it all be done by the others.”

“Why are you allowed to be a shitty colleague, but I’m not?”

“You can be a shitty colleague, I fully support that. I don’t know why you’re still staying at this shit place anyway.”

“Because it’s hard finding something new. God, do we need to discuss this right now? I’ve already been stressing about my situation enough.”

“No of course not. Sorry” He rolls his head to the front and looks at you. “No more work talk. This week is supposed to be our detox. No phones, no internet, no work. Just you and I in this little cabin in the woods where nobody can hear us.”

“If you weren’t the person closest to me, this sentence would have sounded creepy as fuck.”

He chuckles, eyes glimmering in the shine of the fire. You grin, leaning in to nudge him with your arm.

“What should we do though? Now that nobody can hear us?”

His eyes flit to your lips. You saw it clearly. Your chest tightens, your airways close up. He runs his teeth over his lower lip then whispers his words.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

His eyes flit up, connecting with yours with such intensity that your vision blurs a little. Holy shit.

“You’re being fucking creepy. Stop messing with me”, you hiss in faux annoyance, pushing at his chest.

“What did I do?” he asks.

“You’re acting like a serial killer, it’s weird”, you lie, stumbling to your feet, “I’m taking a shower.”

“What if I follow you like in Bate’s Motel? You know, stabby-stabby with my huge knife into your bare back.”

Holy shit.

“Then I’m grabbing you by the balls and dragging your ass outside to sleep in the snow.”

He laughs and then you close the door to the bathroom. 

Holy. Shit.

Things changed in the living room when you come back. Taehyung pushed the couch further away from the fire and made a circle with candles.

“What the hell are you up to now?”

He looks over his shoulder, scanning his eyes over your body.

“Cute PJs, I don’t know why you think they’re ugly.”

“The edges are frayed and I have a hole in my thigh part.”

“You can’t even see that. Come, sit next to me.”

You do so cross-legged.

“What are you doing? For real.”

“I’m making a summoning circle.”

“I’m sorry?”

He points at the book in front of him.

“Wait. You got the book? I mentioned it as a joke, you know?”

“Yeah, I got the book. Isn’t it cool? I followed the instructions just as described. We can finally talk to ghosts.”

One must know that you and Taehyung have an unhealthy obsession with the supernatural. If there is a new ghost hunting show, rest assured that you are watching it together. If there is a new book about the supernatural, rest assured that one of you will get a copy. One time you tried to go ghost hunting yourselves, but had to give up because you both got scared with the first sound and ran back to your car. The supernatural doesn’t scare you, only real humans do. Taehyung always says that bad ghosts are only bad ghosts because they were wronged by humans, which is another proof that the real evil are humans.

“Are you serious? Here?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“It’s our first night here. What if we summon an evil ghost?”

“Then we befriend them and help them find what they need.”

“You’re a dreamer if you think evil ghosts wanna be our friends.”

He pouts. He is so adorable that you give up with a chuckle.

“Fine, we can befriend evil ghosts, but if we can’t? We still have a week to go and I don’t wanna spend it fighting some evil entity.”

“No, but this spell is safe. Look, they call it the summoning of a helper. We can talk to a nice ghost.”

You read the page carefully. Taehyung was right. The spell sounded safe and besides, you were never successful in your endeavours. Of course you were a believer, but you were also a realist. Things like summoning ghosts or talking to them isn’t real. Taehyung seems so smitten by the idea however that you can’t say no to him.

“Fine, let’s do it.”

“Yay! I’m so happy!” he exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

“What do we have to do?”

“Hold hands and then say this sentence five times. Oh great helper we summon thee.”

“Sounds easy.” You intertwine hands with him. “Let’s do it.”

You and he hold hands and begin chanting. You keep holding hands after the chanting, staring at the candle circle. Nothing happens. You already expected it, but Taehyung seems devastated.

“Why is nothing happening?”

“Maybe we didn’t do it right.”

“Right. Let’s do it again.

“Tae no, I don’t-”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, beginning to chant a second time. You give up with a sigh and join him. As expected, nothing happens.

“I don’t get it. Something should happen”, he murmurs, flipping through the book.

“Well, we tried. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to happen.”

“No, let’s try it one more time please.”

“Tae, I don’t think-”

Yet again you aren’t allowed to finish your sentence, except that it wasn’t Taehyung who interrupted you this time around. The fireplace and the candles roar up in bright flames and heat. A blinding flash of light for just a second then the room is normal again. Except for the man sitting on a chair in the middle of the candle circle. He has a cup of tea against his lips, looking surprised as if he was dragged from where he was before.

You and Taehyung scream instantly, jumping to your feet and clutching each other.

The man screams back at you, but he does it mockingly.

“Aaah! I get it, I get it. Why are we screaming?” he calls over your voices.

“What the fuck just happened?!”

“Tae what did we do?!”

You and he turn to each other, holding hands.

“What the fuck?!” you yell at each other.

“Yeah, what the fuck?” the man agrees then snaps into his fingers, “are you done now? Cause I have a lot to say.”

You and Taehyung turn to him. He looks human except for his golden eyes and black horns. His hair is just as dark and his sculpted, big body is wrapped in black leather clothes and a black cape. He is wearing leather gloves and boots.

“You have no manners, going about summoning me and screaming at my face. Who do you think me to be?” the man? Ghost? Demon? scolds, wagging his finger.

“What, what, who are you?” Taehyung stutters, clutching your hands tightly.

“What, what, wha-”, he mocks him in a high pitched voice and then continues with sass, “I don’t know, you tell me. You were the ones who summoned me in the middle of my morning tea, you rude brats”, the stranger spits and lifts his cup, “do you think I’m available twenty four seven? Of course not, I have my working hours as well.”

“___ can you understand him too?” Taehyung whispers to you.

“Yeah, I can”, you whisper back.

“Well duh. Last time I checked, I can speak whatever language you mortals speak. Tch, you are more ill mannered than I thought you to be, fucking brats.”

You and Taehyung exchange a look. It is Taehyung who steps closer to the stranger, keeping you safe behind him.

“Be welcome oh good ghost. What can we call thee? How may we help thee cross into the afterlife?”

The stranger studies Taehyung’s features and bursts out a laughter with such enthusiasm that Taehyung’s hair moves from his breath. He should be disgusted by it, but something about the scent in his breath makes Taehyung feel dizzy and almost drawn to the stranger.

“Me a ghost? You amuse me, mortal. My name is Salaryoongilzus from and to Melzons, First of his Name and Devourer of Souls, but you can call me Yoongi for short.” He bows. “At your service.”

You step next to Taehyung.

“And what are you?”

“Guess.”

You pick up the book from the floor. Taehyung presses his head against yours as he reads the page with you.

“Taehyung”, you gasp and point at a small writing which suddenly appeared at the bottom of the page. “Demon. We summoned a demon.”

“A helper demon?”

“Look. A sex helper demon.”

Your heads snap up simultaneously, eyes widened and lips parted.

The demon Yoongi tips his imaginary hat, carrying a sly smirk on his lips.

“We summoned a succubus? How did that happen?”

The smirk drops from his lips. He points his finger at Taehyung.

“Rude brat, I’m an incubus. Succubus is for female sex demons, I’m an incubus, a male sex demon. Get your terminology straight.”

“An incubus?”

“Do I look like I have tits and a cunt to you?”

Taehyung studies him.

“Obviously I don’t. Go look at your girlfriend if you aren’t sure how such body parts look like.”

“No she isn’t my girlfriend.” “He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Yoongi, the incubus, blurts out laughter again, pointing his finger between you and Taehyung.

“Now this is interesting. You aren’t dating and yet you have so much sexual energy between you, it is as if you have been fucking for years.”

You and Taehyung exchange an awkward yet tension filled look. Somehow the room got hotter.

“Oh? Ohoho, this is really interesting.” Yoongi says and sits down on his chair. He crosses his legs and sips on his tea. “So you two are friends?”

“Best friends.”

“Best friends and you had feelings for each for how many years?”

It gets more and more difficult to exchange a look with Taehyung. It feels like your heart is beating out of your chest, beating even harder when you see how red his cheeks have become.

“You didn’t know?! Hah!” Yoongi slaps his own knee as he laughs, stomping his feet excitedly. “This is great. Best friends who have been pretending as if blurring the lines was a normal thing to do between friends. Tell me how many times have you jerked off to each other’s image?”

“Excuse me?” “I wouldn’t dare!”

Yoongi smirks knowingly. He takes a calm sip of his tea.

“Fine”, he says and stands up. “You convinced me to stay. Cases like yours are too nourishing to miss out on. Couples, you see, have weak sexual energies to feast on. Only a few are delicious after years together, but most produce bitter energies. They tired each other out and summon me for help in fixing their sex life and I have to make do with what shitty energies they still have left. But best friends? Best friends who have been dreaming of fucking each other for years? Now that is the kind of energy I fucking love”, he says and licks over his lips. His tongue is split like that of a snake and behind his pouty lips, a set of fangs is glimmering in the lights.

“But…” you begin and look at Taehyung. He can’t look at you, breathing heavier than he normally does. You are panting as well, but know that whatever is happening to you and him is the influence of the sex demon. You wave your hands at him as if he was an insect you tried to swat away. “Shoo, go away.”

He chuckles, “adorable.”

“We don’t need your help. Shoo.”

“Yes you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have summoned me.”

“Well, it was an accident.”

“Nope, it wasn’t.”

“Yes! It was. We don’t need help from a sex demon.”

“Too bad, I’m not leaving. A deal’s a fucking deal, even if I wanted to leave I can’t unless I fucked both of you to satisfaction.”

“What? But we didn’t ask for that.”

“Honey, you summoned a helper and I was the one being summoned. You know what that means, don’t you?” The demon steps closer to you. So close in fact that you get dizzy from his sweetened breath and feel weak from his intense stare. 

You barely shake your head, feeling hot between your legs.

“It means the one thing you both needed help with the most, was sex. Or lack thereof in your sad case. If you needed help gardening, a little gardening helper would have appeared. If you needed help killing someone, an assassin demon would have appeared. But instead I’m here now. An incubus, the goddamn personification of sex.” He reaches out and brushes the back of his hand down your cheek.

You whimper, knees buckling.

“Deny it all you want, but you two are long due for a good fucking.”

You moan, taking a step closer as you chase his kiss.

“___”, Taehyung stops you from crossing the candle circle, pulling you back to him, “don’t go to him. Who knows what he will do to you.”

Yoongi lifts his hands in defeat, “don’t worry, I’m a good boy. You know, centuries ago we were, let’s say, a little more free in how we took humans. But you know, modernisation and human rights and being civil beings, blah blah blah, basically means that we can now only do what the human subconsciously consents to.” He rolls his eyes. “One gets a new boss one time and the entire system is renewed. You should have been there when the reforms happened. There was so much bloodshed”, he laughs, “but oh well, rules are rules. If you aren’t secretly craving for something, I can’t do it to you. Deal is a deal.”

“Okay?” Taehyung cocks his brow up.

Yoongi sits down and sips on his tea. 

“You don’t believe me? Go ask your girlfriend. She’s been leaking into her little pants ever since your little feelings came to light.” 

“Huh?” “No, I’m not!”

Taehyung gawks at you. You meet his eyes, feeling hot in embarrassment.

“I’m not!” you insist.

Yoongi chuckles.

“Don’t laugh, I’m not!” You wave your hands again. “Shoo, the holy word compels you, leave. Whatever that holy word may be for you.”

“Religion isn’t going to work on me, doll. Humans made it up to pretend as if they were better than others and to have an excuse to greedily take money from the helpless in the name of their gods. I’m staying and you are getting fucked.”

“___, battle plan”, Taehyung says and takes your hand to drag you to the bedroom.

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere”, Yoongi singsongs, sipping his tea afterwards. He leans further into his chair, sighing in relaxation.

Taehyung closes the door and locks it. He turns to you with his folded hands in front of his lips. A second later, he uses them to point at you.

“So we may have fucked up.”

“Well duh, we did! There is a bloody incubus in our living room! That’s what you get from experimenting”, you exclaim and push at his chest. 

“What I get? Excuse me? You were in on the plan!" 

“Yes, because I thought that it would be a scam! Summoning of ghosts isn’t real! It never was.” 

“How dare you”, he gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls.

“I said what I said.” 

He pouts and crosses his arms. You huff out air, mirroring his stance. You share a moment of intense silence, both suddenly reliving what the demon told you. You fluster at the same time, breaking eye contact. 

Taehyung is the first to be brave enough to speak up.

“Fact is, we have an incubus in our living room and he won’t leave until he fucked us.”

“I know, that’s insane Tae.”

“It is, but we won’t get him away any other way.”

“You’re not actually suggesting we take his offer?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I mean, why not? It’s not like he was that wrong. We haven’t been laid in a long time.”

“Speak for yourself, mister.”

“Well, did you?” he challenges with a cock of his brow.

“No”, you mumble and lower your head in defeat.

“See? We take the deal, get it over with and he leaves. Done. And then we burn the book and never speak of tonight again.”

What he says makes sense. It’s insane, but it makes sense.

“Fine.” You give in. “How are we doing this? Taking turns in the bedroom while the other waits outside?” 

“Or we could…” he looks at your lips.

“You’re joking”, you gasp, feeling drawn to him.

Taehyung smiles awkwardly and rubs his neck nervously.

“I mean, was he that off?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean no. I mean, I don’t know.” 

Taehyung steps closer and takes your hands. Your breath hitches, your skin tingles. He caresses your knuckles.

“He wasn’t off as far as I’m concerned”, he confesses in a soft voice, eyes racing between yours.

“Tae, holy fuck this is…”

“...insane? Yeah, but also freeing. I’ve been carrying these feelings with me for years and I swear I wanted to use this holiday to finally confess to you. Granted, I wanted to take you on a star watching walk and confess to you under the moon, but I guess accidentally summoning a sex demon who discovers our secret is more our style.”

You laugh. He laughs with you. It sheds both of you of so much nervous weight on your shoulders. 

“Yeah, I guess it is”, you agree.

A moment of silence. Taehyung closes the distance, stubbing your nose with his. You sigh and close your eyes, lips parting as you chase his kiss. Taehyung, who understood the signal, takes it and kisses you. 

Not one second is wasted before you and he find your rhythm and your hands melt deep into the other’s softness. It isn’t long after that the kiss becomes heated. Perhaps it is the influence of the sex demon or the sheer attraction to each other, but you begin moaning and groping each other hungrily. 

“Stop wait, stop”, you break it.

Taehyung whimpers softly, chasing your kiss as his big hands knead your buttocks.

“Don’t stop this please. I dreamed of this for years, please”, he begs, lips brushing your cheek as he seeks your kiss.

“Tae, the incubus.”

“Right. We should probably see if he’s still there.”

Despite not wanting to, you break the moment for the sake of getting rid of your living room problem. You hold hands, opening the bedroom door together. You peak out. 

“Hello”, Yoongi coos, wiggling his fingers.

“Shit”, the door slams close. You and Taehyung exchange a look. “Tae fuck, this is actually happening.” 

“I guess it is.”

“This is insane.”

“It is.”

“Okay, I’m doing it.”

Taehyung hugs your arm, “do it.”

You and he open the door and enter the living room.

“Rude. Slamming doors isn’t very civil of you”, Yoongi says, studying the way Taehyung clutches you. The scent of your sexual energies became stronger ever since you were in the bedroom. He can’t wait to feast on it.

You and Taehyung stand in front of the demon, buffing your chests to appear stronger.

“If we do this, can you promise us to leave afterwards?” 

“Demons don’t make promises, but a deal is a deal. Yes I will leave afterwards. Are we done now? I could have made myself another cup of tea in the time you two brats were talking. I’m bored.” 

“Give us a moment”, Taehyung says and turns to you. He takes your hands, squeezing them tightly. 

“Tae”, you whisper, gazing into his eyes.

“Do you really want to do this?” 

“Yes, I do. You?”

“I do, yeah. Just…” he cradles your face. “...whatever happens, I love you.���

“I love you too, Tae. I have loved you since-”

“Yeah, yeah we get it. You two are so in love. Shut up and let’s get to fucking. I’m not here to listen to you yap to each other about feelings.” 

You click your tongue in annoyance, turning to the demon. Taehyung does the same.

“First Mister Yoongi from and to something”, you say, snapping your fingers, “you’re rude and impatient. And second of all, if we agree to your deal, are you going to destroy our souls?” 

Yoongi smirks in amusement, “you’re a feisty one, I like you already.”

“Answer my question.”

Yoongi lifts his hands in defeat, “fine. No, I am not going to destroy your souls. As I said before, I will be feasting on the sexual energies you are creating. It will be painless, unless you want it to hurt”, he explains and flashes his fangs playfully.

You gulp, taking a step back. You look at Taehyung.

“Dude, he’s, like, really doing it to me. The fangs thing was hot”, you tell him.

“I know, right?” 

Yoongi chuckles, “you flatter me.” 

It is Taehyung who speaks up next, “if you eat our sexual energies, does it mean that we won’t have any left for the future?”

“Mortals and their endless questions”, Yoongi says under his breath, massaging the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. He takes a deep breath and talks with annoyance in his deep voice, “no this will not happen. Don’t be stupid.”

Taehyung pouts, glancing at you.

“He wasn’t being hot to me, did you see that?”

“Yeah, rude.”

“I can be hot if you want me to”, Yoongi says and grabs Taehyung by the wrist to drag him close. 

Taehyung stumbles with a surprised squeak, moaning a second later when Yoongi drags his split tongue up the side of his neck. Taehyung presses his legs together, twisting Yoongi’s shirt. 

You gulp. This is so hot to look at, but also, you need to save Taehyung.

“Hey, leave him. We didn’t say yes to the deal yet”, you spit and drag Taehyung out of the demon’s claws. 

Taehyung stumbles, colliding with your body, weakened and dizzy. He drops his head on your shoulder, panting heavily. 

Yoongi studies him with a knowing smirk.

“For the sake of your friend, say yes. I don’t think he can take a lot more.” 

“Tae, are you okay?” 

“I need sex, ___, I’m”, he presses his lips to your neck, kissing it sloppily. “Holy fuck, I want you. Holy fuck, I…”

“Tae...” you mewl, eyes threatening to close and skin tingling like crazy. You wanted this for years. It feels so good. 

“Hey! Stop that, I’m still here!” Yoongi snaps you out of it in a sharp voice. 

You and Taehyung look at him.

“Should we?”

“I think we should.”

“Fine”, you say, “we will agree to the terms we just discussed.”

The flames flicker aggressively, somewhere far away, a bell tolls. Yoongi smiles triumphantly and claps into his hands.

“The deal has been made. Wonderful. Let’s get started.” 

“So how are we going to do this?” 

“You are going to listen to me. I will tell you what to do.”

“And if we do and we’re done, you’ll leave?” 

“Promise”, Yoongi says and smiles wickedly. 

“Fine. Then let’s get this over with”, you say and squeeze Taehyung’s hand.

“Wonderful.” Yoongi claps into his hands. “First things first, you two are too clothed. Get naked and let me see what I have to work with”, he says, busy with taking off his gloves. He throws them over the chair, stretching out his fingers.

You and Taehyung exchange a shy look. You never saw each other naked before. You saw each other in swimwear but that’s it.

“The time to be shy has passed. Get naked before I rip it off of you”, Yoongi orders sharply. 

“I love you, yeah?” Taehyung says.

“I love you too.” 

“I guess, this is happening.” 

“Turn around, let’s do it like that.”

You and he turn your backs to each other and start to undress. 

“Mortals are fascinating. You are about to get fucked and yet you are still shy.” 

“Shut up.”

Yoongi chuckles, “I like you. You’re exciting.” 

“Tch whatever. I’m naked, Tae. You?”

“Me too.” 

“I’m turning.”

“Okay. Three, two, one.”

You and Taehyung gasp, eyes widening in awe. This is him. Naked and turned on. This is you. Naked and turned on. 

“Holy fuck Tae, you’re so handsome. I…” your eyes trail off to his cock. “Damn this is…wow.”

“You’re so beautiful too. I can’t believe you’re real”, he says, eyes flitting between your tits and your pussy. “You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. I-”

“We get it, you’re in love. Fucking hell, mortals are so emotional”, Yoongi says and steps out of the candle circle. 

“You can do that?” 

“Well duh, you made a deal”, he dismisses you and presses himself between you and Taehyung. “Now let’s see.” 

He turns to you first. 

"Stay still.”

He touches your tits, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. His palms are so soft and warm, his hands are human but big. So big and masculine. His fingers are so long, currently pinching and rubbing your nipples. 

You can only handle it by grabbing his lower arms and whimpering softly. They are strong and muscular, his body is so warm. You feel dizzy.

“A good pair of tits. Turn.” He says and does it for you. 

He touches your back and arms. Each second turns you on more and more to the point where you can barely stand up. 

“Pretty back. I bet your little friend fantasised about cumming on it a dozen times before.”

“Ah..”

“Mhm, you liked that, didn’t you? Such a needy girl”, Yoongi taunts and grabs your hip. He puts his other hand on your head and pushes you down until you are bent over. 

“Ah geez, warn me. I didn’t stretch.” 

“Too bad”, Yoongi says and falls to his knees, now eye to eye with your ass. He spreads it, making you mewl in embarrassment because you know for a fact that Taehyung looks as well. 

You know because he moaned softly when Yoongi revealed you. 

“Pretty hole, but not virgin. Not done by a real cock though. Dirty girl, do you like stuffing toys up your hole?” Yoongi coos.

“I uhm”, you begin writhing, feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t flee, I’m not done”, Yoongi orders and sticks out his tongue to drag it over your hole.

“Ah, oh god”, you get out, falling to your knees because it felt too good. 

Yoongi sees no problem in it, grabbing your hips to pull you into a doggy position. You are more exposed like this, mewling into the floor. 

“Such a pretty hole and a pretty cunt to go with it”, he rasps, tracing every inch of it with his long fingers. “So wet.” He licks his fingers. “So sweet”, he growls, sending shivers through you. 

“Please”, you beg, pushing your hips closer to him.

“Good. Done.” Yoongi however abandons you, standing up and turning to Taehyung. 

With wobbly knees you turn as well, kneeling as you look up at them. Yoongi is a lot taller than Taehyung, commanding the room without having to try.

Taehyung looked at you first, but changes it when Yoongi touches his pecs. He looks up at him, panting nervously and making puppy eyes at him.

“Now you. I heard the disgusting things you were thinking as I examined her. You’re a dirty one, aren’t you?” 

Taehyung gulps. 

“Yes you are, but also a pretty one. Good pecs with pretty nipples”, Yoongi says as he rubs them. “Tongue out.” 

Taehyung obeys. 

Yoongi inspects it and hums.

“Good. Back in.”

Taehyung obeys. Yoongi runs his hands down his torso and grabs his cock. 

Taehyung moans, thrusting into his touch and grabbing bundles of his shirt. 

“You have an impressive cock for a human. It may rival that of a demon.”

“Ah, please.” 

Yoongi squeezes his tip until it leaks, picks it up and licks it.

“Sweet. Both of you. How pleasing. Turn”, he says and does it for Taehyung.

The latter falls to his knees all on his own, getting into doggy position with his ass stuck high into the air. 

“Holy shit”, you get out under your breath, eyes glued to his exposed hole. The view gets denied of you very soon when Yoongi kneels down and therefore shields you from it. You scoot to the side, greedily wanting more. 

“Someone seems to be willing. Pretty hole and would you look at that? Not virgin either.” 

Your pussy throbs. Taehyung looks at you with submissive puppy eyes, fingers trying to grasp you. You reach out, hooking your fingers with him. He holds you so desperately, turning you on with it.

“Not done by a human either. Look at that, you and ___ can share toys from now on”, Yoongi says and bends down to lick his hole. 

Taehyung moans with such utter and raw pleasure that you feel dizzy. Even his eyes go out of focus and cross a little. He looks as if he wanted this exact thing done to him for years, as if he was just waiting for someone to lick his hole. He presses back, smothering Yoongi with his ass this way.

He chuckles and breaks away, split tongue dripping saliva.

“Someone is very eager. How interesting.” 

He stands up, leaving Taehyung in his agony. 

“Get up, the both of you. I’m done with my examination. I know exactly what to do to you.”

You manage to get up quicker. Taehyung is still too wobbly to do so, only managing to get to his knees. 

“That will have to do. Mortals are so weak”, Yoongi says and sits down on his chair. He spreads his legs in a commanding, masculine way, shifting his eyes to you. “Come here, pretty girl.” 

You obey his command without hesitation. His spit is still sticking to you and has been gradually ruining you more and more. You feel enchanted, wanting to obey whatever command he has for you. 

“Sit”, he orders, patting his thigh. 

You obey.

“Nono, so you can face him.” 

“Sorry, yes”, you correct the position. 

Yoongi grabs your hips and pulls you down the last few inches. You moan loudly at the first contact, back arching and fingers digging into his sculpted thigh. The leather is so rough against your sensitive pussy, his hands are paradise as they hold your hips. 

“Move.” 

You obey his orders, legs trembling as fiery pleasure courses through you. 

“Good girl. Now, you are going to touch yourself to the view of her.”

“What?” Taehyung croaks, eyes glued to your body and how it moves on Yoongi’s thigh. Your breasts looks so ravishing like this. Taehyung craves a taste of them.

“You heard me. Show her what you were doing whenever you jerked off to her.” 

“But I-”

“Don’t try to deny it. I know you lied. You touched yourself to her too many times to count “

“Tae”, you whimper, meeting his eyes. 

You look so blissed out, so shaken by pleasure. Taehyung draws closer, reaching out to cup your cheek. You lean into his touch, trembling on Yoongi’s thigh.

“Tae…”

“I’m sorry, he’s right. I just-”

“Less words, more actions. Fucking touch yourself before I decide to force you”, Yoongi spits.

“Do as he says Tae, please”, you breathe, holding his cheeks, “please do it for me, please.” 

“___”, Taehyung moans, chasing you. Your lips are almost touching, you share the same air. He is looking at your mouth, right hand dropping to his cock. 

You moan with him as he begins touching himself. Your hips stutter on Yoongi’s thigh, your pussy throbs and leaks. Yoongi basks in the view with a dirty smirk, massaging your hips and waist with his strong, masculine hands. 

“She likes this, pretty boy. Her cunt is so wet on my thigh. Keep touching yourself”, he purrs.

Taehyung croaks your name, lips claiming yours in a kiss. He can’t bear it any other way. Yoongi was right. Taehyung jerked off to the fantasy of you too many times to count. He really, really tried not to, but his mind betrayed him sometimes. He touched himself, thinking about how it would be to kiss you, to touch you and be touched in return, to experience pleasure with you and be with you naked. 

He has all of it right now and Taehyung is in heaven. He pumps his cock very slowly, despite wanting to go fast. He has to go slow however, otherwise he would climax way too soon. This is his dream and it excites him way too much. 

You break the kiss, overwhelmed by your own heaven. Your foreheads rest together, it hasn't been long but you are both a little sweaty already. 

“Tae, this is…”

“I know, it is…heaven, you’re heaven.” 

“No, you are. Ah Tae, your cock.” 

Taehyung looks down at what you see, moaning deeply. His cock is flushed and hardened, leaking onto his long fingers as he massages it quickly. 

“You’re so sexy, oh god, Tae your cock is so sexy”, you mewl, sliding your hands to his hair to twist bundles of it.

“Ah, I can’t”, Taehyung gasps, having to stop. “When you’re watching me, I just. I can’t handle it.”

“Your cock is throbbing.”

“___ please, you’re not making it easier”, Taehyung laughs breathily.

You straighten up, looking over your shoulder. Yoongi locks eyes with you. Dark marks have appeared on his features, pulsing like a slow heartbeat. This must be the sign that he is feeding on your energies. 

“What do you want, pretty girl?” he asks in a terribly seductive voice.

“Help him last longer, please.” 

Yoongi smirks. He snaps his fingers, letting a bottle of lube appear out of a cloud of red smoke. He throws it at Taehyung, who catches it. 

“She wanted help. this is it. Get on your knees and show her how you fuck your own asshole. Don’t touch your cock unless I tell you to.” 

You shake on Yoongi’s thigh, giving him needy puppy eyes. He purrs, smiling darkly. He inches closer to you, inhaling through his mouth with deep rumbles in his chest. They aren’t human, clearly signs of your delicious pleasure coursing through him.

“Don’t waste time. Just the mention of it makes her taste heavenly.” 

“Yoongi”, you mewl, writhing in embarrassment. He purrs and holds your hips to guide them for now. 

“Be a good girl and look at him. I know you want to.” 

You obey his order gladly. The view which meets you there almost makes you regret turning around. Not because it is awful, but because it is so sexy that you have to lift your hips in order not to orgasm. Yoongi supports you, panting heavily from the sweet scents meeting his nose. So delicious, you taste so delicious. Your cunt keeps dripping on him. How delicious.

Taehyung is already kneeling, sticking his ass into the air and having two fingers buried inside. He pumps them in and out in a smooth rhythm, whimpering softly each time he bottoms out. 

Not in your wildest dreams could you have ever imagined that this view would be your reality one day. His fingers are long and skinny, but seem so thick in his hole. He is tanner around his rim than the rest of his body, but whenever he pulls his digits out and his hole moves around them, pink skin is revealed. 

“Holy fuck, Tae”, you get out, dropping on Yoongi’s thigh to get off to the view. You dig your nails into his leather pants, face scrunching in bliss. Each movement is electric, reaching every inch of your body. “Holy fuck, you are so hot. Baby, does this feel good?” 

“Yes, feels so good”, Taehyung whimpers, voice surprisingly high-pitched for his normally baritone timbre.

“Keep doing that, you’re doing so good.” 

Taehyung mewls your name, ass pressing back onto his fingers. This is everything he ever wished for. He spills tears onto the rug, curling his toes. This is his dream. 

You suddenly feel lips on your shoulder and strong hands cradling your tits. Shivering, you lean into Yoongi, closing your eyes halfway. 

“You’ve got a dominant side in you, don’t you? Good girl, you struck me as someone like that from the very beginning”, he rasps, rubbing your nipples slowly.

“Fuck”, you croak, leaning back into him. You can’t really grind on him like this, but it is for the best. You would orgasm way too soon if you kept going. His magic touch and the view of Taehyung are simply too powerful of a combination.

Yoongi purrs, letting you rest against his big, muscular body. He loves how small you are on his lap. Humans are so tiny and fragile in comparison to demons. Yoongi really gets off to the size imbalance, especially when it’s such a delicious feed as you and Taehyung. 

He wraps his strong arm around you, tracing your stomach and playing with your pubes while his other hand plays with your tits. 

“Do you like this, pretty girl?” he asks you in a purr.

“So much. Every touch…”

“Turns you on more. I know, that’s what I do to you”, he rasps and shifts his eyes to Taehyung. “I'll let you in on one of his little secrets, yeah?” he whispers.

You nod your head.

“Go ahead, Taehyung. Play with your cock.”

“Fuck. Yes”, Taehyung gets out and pulls his fingers free. His hole gapes slightly, looking so empty. 

Taehyung closes his lubed up fingers around his balls, spreading it on them messily. Once he is happy with the feel of it, he takes them and does the unthinkable thing of putting them up his own ass. 

“What the fuck?” you get out. 

“___”, Taehyung moans, pushing in the second one as well. He seems to struggle at first before his fragile hole gives up and takes it. The skin of his balls is stretched, his rim is pulsing and his hips are pushing back. 

“What the fuck? Taehyung you- oh my god, holy fuck.” 

“Isn’t this marvellous? This isn’t the first time he stuffs his own balls up his asshole. He thought about it for minutes. What does this do to you, pretty girl?” Yoongi taunts.

“I have to cum”, you croak, spilling tears. 

“She has to cum. Do you hear that, pretty boy? Your little self fuck is making your best friend cum.” 

“___”, Taehyung moans, jerking off his cock as his balls get squeezed in his tight, pulsing ass. The sensations are orgasmic, making his legs shake and head turn. 

“Taehyung”, you whimper, legs shaking as well and head dizzy beyond repair. Yoongi slides his fingers to your clit and rubs it. You squeal, arching your back. This was too much. He breaks you for the first time this evening. 

“Good girl, scream for me. Good girl”, Yoongi talks you through it, head pounding from the intense feed. How sweet your orgasm tastes, how much it nourishes him. He feels greedy for more. He will make you orgasm again. He just decided. He cannot miss out on more of this power. 

Taehyung begins begging as he realises what happens. 

“Please I have to cum too. Please can I cum please?” 

“Tell us what you fantasize about most and I’ll let you cum.”

“Eating her out! Please, I have to cum please”, Taehyung blurts out, arching his back. 

You sob softly, twitching on Yoongi’s thigh. Your orgasm died down but nothing changed. Yoongi works his magic on you and you are his sexual prisoner. You don’t feel any ounce of satisfaction from your high, on the contrary, you want another one and another one and, and, and. Please.

“Can you see that? She likes it. Mhm pretty girl, do you like that?” 

“Yes, like it please.”

“Good”, Yoongi stands up with you in his arms. He denies you of another orgasm like this, ignoring the whines you let out for the sake of lying you down on the floor. 

Taehyung watches it happen, hand still around his cock because he is confused. He tugs his balls out of his hole, eyes glued to your body as it gets shoved around by Yoongi.

Yoongi grabs your legs, spreading them forcefully. He purrs, eyes flickering at the view of your wet cunt.

“Do it. Show her what you want to do most.” 

Taehyung obeys, scrambling to your side. He exchanges places with Yoongi and gets on all fours. 

“I just…this is a dream”, he says, gazing at your puffy, wet lips. You are so turned on that the normally translucent excitement almost took on a slight white and creamy texture to it. Taehyung wants to taste every droplet of it. 

“Tae please”, you whimper, opening your legs further.

“I will treat you so right from now on, my baby. Holy fuck”, he croaks and lowers himself to your cunt. 

“Tae!” You scream up, arching your back and gripping his hair. It is ridiculous but you orgasm with the first lick. 

Taehyung wants to stop and look, but Yoongi doesn’t let him. He places his hand over yours and pushes his head down.

“Don’t slack”, he orders, voice dark and demonic from the feed he is experiencing. “Keep fucking going no matter what.” 

Taehyung mewls, spilling tears. He wraps his arms around your thighs, hands rubbing your sides, and obeys Yoongi’s orders. He uses his entire mouth to please you, tongue kissing your pulsing cunt as if it was his life’s purpose to do so. And right now it was. 

He dreamt about giving you head so many times that he stopped counting. Sometimes when you were at his place and you watched a movie with your legs on his couch, he imagined how it would be like to lie down between them and pleasure you as you watched the movie. He fantasised about warming your clit with his mouth, fantasised tongue fucking your hole, fantasised about tasting every inch of you.

And now it is his reality and he loves it so much that he tears up. Your thighs are shaking, your hips keep bucking up and your fingers twist his hair. You also taste like heaven. Sweet, intense, perfect. Taehyung slurps and gurgles, drinking your heavenly nectar with deep moans and happy mewls.

“This feels so good, oh god”, you get out between having to moan and having to gasp for air.

It has been a while since you felt a mouth on your pussy. Casual sex just didn’t do it for you and so you stopped seeking it. So this right now is your paradise. Out of all the things, you missed getting head the most. Getting head from Taehyung? The very reason why you currently exists. 

His lips are soft and warm, rubbing over your sensitive spots as much as they suck on them. His tongue is even softer and warmer and so fucking wet, tracing your pussy and licking every single inch. He uses the flat of it as he worships your lips and uses the tip of it as he fucks your hole. For your clit, he uses a mixture of his tip and the flat of it, following it up with a suck and purrs around it. 

Now that you had this first exciting orgasm behind you, you can really savour every second of it. Granted, it is still insanely difficult not to climax again. 

“Tae, I love this so much, Tae”, you moan, floating on bliss. 

Taehyung mewls, looking up at you. Your head is rolled to the side, giving him a view of your blissed out expression. Your eyes are closed, your lips are parted, your brows tightened. 

“He thinks that you’re beautiful right now”, Yoongi tells you. 

Taehyung mewls in agreement, nodding his head.

“Tae”, you whimper, writhing in pleasure. Your pussy throbs in his mouth, feeding him more of your sweet nectar. 

“She wants you to play with her tits.”

Taehyung obeys, reaching up to cradle your breasts and massage them.

“Ah!” you arch your back, hands slipping from his hair to instead drop next to your head and ball to fists. 

Taehyung moans, having to close his eyes. This is too exciting. Your soft breasts are like heaven in his hands. He massages them as gently as possible, moving especially tenderly around your nipples. 

You react in throbs of your pussy and arches of your back, moaning so sweetly he feels high on you. 

“Good boy, keep doing that”, Yoongi praises, giving his back a kiss before he abandons his side to fulfil his wish. 

Taehyung has been thinking it so loudly that Yoongi almost smacked the back of his head. He opens his pants and pulls it down far enough so his heavy cock would be free. He prepares it with a thick layer of lube. 

“For the future, you don’t have to scream your fantasies at me. I can hear you just right”, he hisses and punishes him by pushing his cock into his tight hole. Not that this is a real punishment, this is exactly what Taehyung wanted. 

The latter falls forward, moaning into your pussy with such enthusiasm that you have to lift your head to check.

“Holy fuck”, you croak, gawking in disbelief. 

Taehyung’s neck is bend in a weird way as his face is smothered in your pussy. His hips are held up by Yoongi forcing him to keep kneeling as he very clearly drills his cock into his ass.

He smiles at you darkly, flashing you his fangs this way. Taehyung shakes and writhes with each thrust, bruising your breasts accidentally from needing to hold something. He mewls so much, mouth sucking on your clit more than he does anything else. As if he needs to soothe himself.

“Are you-”

“-hurting him? Of course not, pretty girl. I can make myself fit in the tightest hole without pain.”

“Are you using magic?” 

“What do you think?” he asks and pulls Taehyung’s up by his hair. His back arches, you get a view of his messy face and the utter bliss on it. He thrusts into him, forcing a scream out of him. “Does this look like he is in pain?” Yoongi taunts, making Taehyung scream with each hard thrust.

“No”, you whimper, trying to rub your legs together for stimulation. 

Yoongi notices, smiling darkly. 

“Good girl, you don’t have to scream your thoughts to get them heard”, he says and picks up Taehyung easily. He never stops bouncing him on his cock even as he changes position. He falls down next to you, lifting Taehyung off his cock to turn him. 

“Yoongi, your cock”, you gasp.

It is long and thick and looks more like a big butt toy than a real cock. He has five engorged segments going from small to huge. 

“I’m simply shaping it to how he wants it to feel. Seems like your pretty friend wants to be fucked by a huge textured cock”, Yoongi rasps and sinks Taehyung down on it. 

It is insane how easily he takes his massive cock. One by one the swollen segments disappear in Taehyung and he seems to moan louder and louder with each. Once Yoongi bottoms out, you swear that Taehyung seems as if he reached enlightenment. His eyes are rolled back, his head tilted and his mouth agape. Yoongi helps him stay in this state by lifting and sinking his body, fucking him like this. It forces his cock to bounce and slap his own tummy repeatedly, spreading the wet mess he leaks everywhere.

“Do you like this? Do you like seeing him like this?” Yoongi rasps, looking at you. 

You are so close like this that you can smell his sweet breath. He is actually so beautiful for a demon. His features are so delicate and pretty and insanely addicting to look at. 

“I like it so much.” 

“Mhm, you’re such a pretty girl”, Yoongi rasps, “go ahead, I heard your wish.” 

“Thank you, oh god”, you croak and scramble to your knees.

“Although, being called someone with a pretty face is a new for me”, Yoongi chuckles, fixing his head so you can sit on his face.

You mewl in acknowledgement, gasping a second later when Yoongi pulls you down on his long tongue. You look at where he holds you, moaning in surprise when two pairs of arms greet you. One pair is busy bouncing Taehyung on his cock, while the other is busy holding you down on his face. 

“Holy fuck.”

Yoongi chuckles knowingly, scrambling your thoughts a second later with his tongue. 

You scream up, matching Taehyung’s volume. The next moments are unable to be brought onto paper because they are unable to stay in your minds anyway. All you and Taehyung know is that you feel pleasure like you have never felt before. It is normally easy to talk during sex, even in the most passionate of scenes, but as you share Yoongi, you truly can't talk. The only thing wanting to leave your throats are screams and moans and sobs. Neither of you has experienced such pleasure before and soon you find yourselves holding each other as Yoongi ruins you from below.

You swear that you already orgasmed twice on his tongue and you can’t stop doing it. He is a lot hotter than Taehyung and so much wetter. His spit is clearly magical, seeping deep into your skin and making you feel as if you are high. He also seems to be everywhere at once. You feel him on your clit, your lips, your hole, your g-spot and even tickling your cervix. And it happens at the same time, constantly. It feels so good that you almost want to flee and yet you can’t because you crave more and more and more of his touch.  

Taehyung feels just as ruined. From the moment Yoongi entered him, he lost all control over his body. He is so huge and long and yet doesn’t hurt. Not even when he forcefully claimed his small hole, did he hurt. He felt like heaven from the very beginning and this heaven seems to grow more and more the longer he bounces him on his cock. Taehyung doesn’t know how many times he already orgasmed, but he can’t stop. He is so filled up, so stretched out, so fucked. Each of Yoongi’s swollen segments stuffs him more and increases the pleasure. His prostate stopped being the only sensitive part as Yoongi’s leaking slit spreads his magical juice on his walls and turns them as sensitive as his prostate. Perhaps even more sensitive. Taehyung truly feels his textured cock everywhere and he swears he might never recover.

“Yoongi, I have to- I think I have to- to pee”, you finally get out, digging your nails into Taehyung’s back as you hold him close.

“Me too! Me too!” Taehyung screams into your shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. 

Yoongi merely growls and holds you tighter, forcing you and Taehyung to orgasm so hard that you piss yourselves. Yoongi shoots his heavy load up Taehyung’s ass from the sweet taste of your combined sexual energies, growling into your cunt demonically.

He knows from the way you and Taehyung writhe afterwards that his job is complete. You are pleased beyond repair. He lifts you and Taehyung off of him and carries you to the couch. He lies you down in a way so that your leaking holes would drip on the floor and not the cushions. You are both gaping, although Taehyung definitely takes the crown. The view pleases Yoongi a great deal. He did a good job.

“Breathe and hold each other until you feel better.” 

You and Taehyung cuddle each other, shivering in a good way. It feels so good to be with each other after such intense sex.

Yoongi pets your heads, using all four hands for it.

“You both did well.” 

He straightens up, crossing his four arms in front of his big chest. He snaps his fingers, making a table of food and water appear.

“Try to hydrate and eat something once you can move again. Talk about tonight, I heard it helps mortals bond.”

You and Taehyung mewl softly, drooling on each other. Yoongi studies the ruined states of you.

“I did good. I was thorough”, he says and nods his head, “my job here is done. I won’t ask you if you liked it because I know you did.” 

He turns his back to you and walks to the candle circle. 

“You will feel stronger and healthier in the days to come because I filled you with my nectar. Use it to fuck each other, it will feel better to you. Or don’t fuck and talk, mortals are so emotional how disgusting. Just fuck, seriously, it’s more fun.”

He steps inside the circle. 

“Yoongi”, you croak, eyes barely wanting to open. 

He looks over his shoulder, “yes, pretty girl?” 

“Can we see you again?” 

He smiles wickedly. The candles burn brightly, somewhere far away a bell tolls. His wicked smile grows. 

“In your dreams”, Yoongi hisses and disappears. 

You and Taehyung both know that this wasn’t meant as an insult, but a promise. You just made a deal with the fucking devil.