#I Just Want To Save Your Relationship Jolting Useful Tips

[baby-yongbok]

4:26 am

Best friend!Bang Chan × Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: You love your boyfriend Minho, but lately your best friend has been on your mind.

Warnings: Cheating, Chan is a tiny bit manipulative, Car Sex? (That should be all, sorry if I missed anything!)

A/N: This might might, be the last of Chan's birthday posts. I have one more that I prepared awhile ago but I might save it. Who knows lol. I hope that you enjoy! I'm trying to start writing again and it's been hard so I'm sorry if this is a bit rough 😅

✨️Masterlist✨️

 “Tell me again why we're parked in an abandoned parking lot at 4:26 am.” Chan asks quizzically. I sighed, running my hands over my face. 

“I needed someone to vent to.” My gaze stays fixed on my lap, I don’t know if I can look at him, I don’t know what I’ll do when his eyes meet mine. He’s my best friend and I know I can tell him anything, hell, he picked up the phone in the middle of the night and came running to me. So I know that I can trust him but right now the thought of looking him in the eye with these thoughts running through my head is dizzying.

“Well I'm here, start when you want.” He leans forward, crossing his arms and resting them on top of the steering wheel. I run my hands through my hair as I try to gather my thoughts.

“Okay so, uh, Minho came home early tonight and he surprised me with this really cute home date and ya know… we had sex and it was good, really it was, but I just don’t feel… I haven’t been feeling…” My heart is beating a mile a minute, Chan and I are extremely close and we talk about our sex lives all the time but this time it’s different. 

“Unsatisfied?” Chan asks with an eyebrow raised. I nod my head, thankful that he finished the sentence for me. Talking about Minho behind his back feels so wrong but I suppose it’s not as wrong as what I plan to confess next.

“Yeah, unsatisfied and I've been… thinking of someone else.” I swallow hard as I play with the zipper of my hoodie, desperate to pay attention to anything but the look on Chan’s face. I know him, I know that he’s looking at me with semi wide interested eyes and he’s waiting for me to look back at him but I just can’t. 

“Who do you think about?” If I were in a hospital right now the nurses would go crazy because I am almost certain that my heart stopped, exploded even. I knew that he’d ask me that question but hearing it actually come out of his mouth sets off a whole new type of panic. Should I tell him the truth? I’m in a relationship, a beautiful and loving one at that, I shouldn’t go around confessing these things. But on the other hand, the thought of my fantasy coming true is too inviting to ignore. It’s now or never and I choose now.

“Well, it depends on the day. It could be Hyunjin, Seungmin, but… I mostly think of you. I guess it’s because of our connection or some shit like that, I don't know” My nerves got to me half way through my confession, shit, he must think I’m fucking with him. The silence around us lasted far too long for my liking, causing me to look over at the man in the driver's seat. His eyebrows were slightly raised and there was a red tint to the tips of his ears but other than that he seemed completely cool and collected. 

“Okay, uh, you think about me in what way? Like, do you daydream about me and kind of dissociate from Minho or do you pretend that he's me?” His brows knit together briefly before relaxing again. He shifts in his seat, leaning back completely and bringing his crossed arms to rest over his chest. He’s clearly trying not to show the effect that my confession has on him.

“I imagine that he's you, that his hands are yours and that you’re the one fucking me, it's better when I pretend.” I look back down at my lap as a deep blush creeps onto my cheeks. 

“Do you come faster? More intensely?” My head jolts up quickly and my eye’s find his immediately, the look of disbelief written all over my features makes Chan grin. He chuckles a bit and that's when I realize that he's messing with me. I sigh dramatically, relaxing into my seat before flashing my middle finger in his direction.

“Fuck you, don’t taunt me.” He smiles wider, looking down at his lap.

“I just want to know for my own personal records.” He licks his lips before looking back up at me  “It's fun hearing what I do to you.” 

At this point I’m sure that my brown skin is as red as a rose. Why did he have to look at me like that? Is he trying to ruin me? 

“I called you because I need to vent.” I remind him as I turn to look out of the passenger window, anything to avoid his gaze for a second. 

“Sorry sorry, continue.” I clear my throat and unzip my hoodie just a bit, is it getting hot in here? Why does his car suddenly feel so small?

“He falls asleep after sex all the time, I mean how could I blame him? Three rounds every night for four or five days a week is a lot on top of working and all of the other stuff that he does in a day. But no matter how many times we do it I’m still not satisfied afterwards, I watch porn and use my vibrator on the bathroom floor, every time.”

“Did you do that tonight?” His eyebrows knit together in curiosity, I open my mouth to try to answer him but when I look back in his direction I get distracted by the sight of his strong arms. He leaned back in his seat a bit more than he was a minute ago, his fingers intertwined and tucked behind his head giving me the perfect view of his biceps and everything that matches it. 

“No, I called you instead. I just needed to talk to someone. I feel like I'm going crazy, I keep wanting more and more sex. This can’t be normal.” Chan chuckles lightly and I can’t help but to roll my eyes. Is he even taking this seriously?

“Well either you're a sex addict or you aren't satisfied because you want someone else. In this case that person would be me.” He moves his hands from behind his head and rests them in his lap lazily.

“So, what? I fuck you and it goes away? If anything I'll keep wanting it.” I scoff, shaking my head in an attempt to erase the thoughts.

“You'll never know unless you try.” My eyes meet his quickly, I open my mouth to reply but no words make sense in my head. Is he serious? He’s messing with me… right? 

“I couldn't cheat on… I can't.” 

“Haven't you already though? Thinking of another man inside of you while he is? Imagining that you're with me.. your best friend. If he were thinking of someone else while he fucked you would you call that cheating?”  I turn away from him as if I'm physically trying to run away from his words. This is all too much to handle. The man that I can’t stop thinking about is basically offering himself to me. But I can’t do that to Minho, he’s been nothing but good to me for all of these years, he’s loving and attractive and he shares all of my values… but so does Chan and right now my best friend has one up on my boyfriend when it comes to intimacy. Is this really worth it? Is sex really worth potentially ruining my relationship to start a new one with Chan?

“I'm single, Y/n, if I screw you no one will care. But you, you're in a relationship. If we fuck you'll either feel guilty and confess everything to him or you'll feel so amazing that you'll call me at 4 am every night, The choice is yours.” Silence surrounds us and it almost feels heavy on my skin. What should I do next? I could tell him to take me home or I could get in the backseat and let him fuck me until I’m satisfied. I glance over at Chan to find that he’s already looking at me, his relaxed gaze is raking over my frame slowly but that’s not what did it. It was the way he licked his lips as his eyes met mine, like he could already taste me. Like he already had me. 

“Fuck it.” I blurt out, making up my mind all at once. It’s like every system in my brain shut off at once. I'm not really even thinking anymore, every move is now driven by desire. “Let me see your dick.”

 I maintain eye contact so that he knows that I’m serious. A smirk plays upon his lips and his eyebrows raise instantly.

“That escalated quickly.” He chuckles and I try my best to hide my giddy grin, Am I really doing this? Maybe I can take it back?

“Show me.” Chan takes a deep breath, hooking his thumbs into the waistline of his sweats before giving me a glance. I can tell what he’s trying to say with his eyes, he’s asking me if I’m sure about this and to be honest that answer is no, I’m anything but sure. All I know is that part of me is desperate to see if he really has this effect on me or if it’s all in my head. I nod to him and without another word he lowers the hem of his gray sweatpants and his cock springs up, resting against his clothed stomach.

Fuck what I said before, I don’t want to take it back. The mere sight of his dick, makes my mouth water. It takes every ounce of control that I have in my body not to lean forward and take him in my mouth. I want to taste him, to feel him, to use him.

“No underwear?” I tease with a smile and he shrugs.

“You said it was an emergency, I rushed over to you. Threw on the first thing I could find.”

“Mm maybe that's a sign.” He furrows his brows slightly as he watches me with curious eyes. I unzipped my hoodie completely, revealing the lingerie that I had put on for Minho tonight and never changed out of. 

“Fuck.” Chan says in a breathy sigh, bringing his hand up to his cock.

“Is it still cheating if I don't touch you?” I slip off my silk sleep shorts and turn my body towards Chan so that my back is against the passenger door. I open my legs to give him a full view of my cunt, reaching down to spread my arousal over my folds. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, babygirl” His tone is a bit deeper than before, the soft and playful tone replaced with a deep and husky one. He holds his hand out towards me and I nearly moan at the words that follow.

“Get it wet for me?” A low hum vibrates from my throat as I lean forward, pursing my lips and spitting into his palm. He coos at me, a quiet ‘good girl’ leaving his lips as he watches me. His eyes don’t leave mine as he takes his hand back and spreads my spit over his leaking tip mixing my saliva with his pre-cum. Slowly, his eyes trail down my body until they fix on my dripping pussy. He slowly starts to stroke himself, exhaling heavily when he rubs over his tip.

“Play with yourself for me, yeah?” At this point the only thing going through my head is Chan. He’s all I can remember, all that I want, all that I need. I feel drunk off of the sight of him sitting across from me, cheeks flushed and his long fingers wrapped around his hard cock. How could I possibly want to do anything but please this man?

I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly through parted lips, my eyes stay trained on him as I slowly trail my hand from my neck to my stomach. I watch his expression as he grows a bit impatient from my teasing, his dark gaze warning me to give him what he asked for. 

“Does it look like I want you to tease me, baby?” The tone of his voice sends chills down my spine, his words are breathy and challenging and it makes me hungry for more. What would he do to me if I kept teasing? How would he punish me? 

“Why would I give you what you want right away?” I run my fingers along my inner thighs, smiling at him as his gaze drops from my eyes to my core, watching my hand carefully. “That would be boring.”

“Touch yourself or I'll do it for you.” A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine him getting impatient with me and taking control, using his long fingers to fuck me. Why do I feel drunk off of that thought? It hasn’t even happened and yet I feel like I’m on cloud 9. 

“Fuck.” I hiss as I run my fingers between my folds brushing against my clit and circling it. Chan strokes himself a bit faster as he watches me, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. 

“Put a finger inside.” He looks up from my cunt and my eyes follow his meeting for a second. My pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for something, anything, him. “Pretend that it’s me” 

He nearly sounds like he’s pleading me to do it, like he’s desperate to see how I fuck myself. Desperate to see what the thought of him does to me. I nod, slowly obeying his command and slipping my middle finger deep into my cunt.

“Oh fuck.” My back arches up off of the passenger door once I start fucking myself, increasing the pace gradually as I start to become desperate for more. I pressed the palm of my hand against my clit, trying to add as much stimulation as possible. He watches in awe as my hips buck into my hand a bit. 

“Add another.” I quickly obey his command, adding my ring finger inside, eliciting a groan of pleasure to fall from my parted lips. I try my best to keep my eyes open, I want to watch him, I need to watch him. His strokes are much faster now, small grunts and sighs leaving his parted lips, his head thrown back in ecstasy. I take in the way that his jaw clenched as he builds himself closer to the edge, his right leg slightly bouncing, it's a masterpiece that I wish I could become a part of. 

“Chan.” His name passes my lips in a breathy moan and he looks over at me as he strokes the head of his dick, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip at the sensation. “I need you so badly.” 

“Your choice.” He groans out as he throws his head back again squeezing his eyes shut. “ Better make up your mind, I’m so close, babygirl.” 

I sigh heavily as I try my best to fight the urge to climb over and ride him until I pass out. I focus on my own pleasure again, Imagining that it’s Chan rubbing tight circles on my clit while his long fingers reach spots that I didn’t even know existed. I imagine that it’s him bringing me closer and closer to the edge, I wish it was him. The wet sounds of Chan stroking his cock mix with my moans as we both draw closer to the edge. I watch his hand as he pleasures himself, I wonder if he’s imagining that, that’s me. I wonder if he feels that same way. Does he touch himself to the thought of me at night? Thinking of all of the times that we were play fighting and his fingers grazed my bare skin, all of the tight hugs that we shared, my chest pressed up against him. Does he think about me?

“Shit, oh my god” I squeeze my eyes shut and arch my back at the thought of him wanting me just as much as I want him, maybe even more.

“Fucking cum for me, babygirl.”  Chan groans “I'm so fucking close for you.”

Those words alone throw me over the edge, one of my fantasies is coming true right in front of my eyes.

“Oh my- I'm gonna..” Before I could get another word out my orgasm rushed over me, breathtaking and mind fogging.  I clamped my legs shut and arched my back off of the car door. My moans filled the space around us but I couldn’t hear them, the pleasure was deafening. 

“Fuck, Y/n.” My name fell off of his tongue in a sweet moan and my pussy clenched at the sound of it, sending another wave of euphoria through me. “Oh shit, I'm cumming.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut, his strokes becoming shorter but still just as fast. A rush of adrenaline hit me and suddenly my vision changed. I felt like a rabid animal who was desperate for food. Suddenly, I forgot about everything that was looming over my head. All of my thoughts about Minho and saving our relationship were gone. All that I could think of was pleasure and I was absolutely driven by it, so much so that after the first stream of cum came leaking from Chan’s tip I leaned forward, getting on my knees in the passenger seat and running my tongue up his length. He moved his hand quickly, clearly surprised by my sudden confidence. I licked up to the head of his cock and then took the rest of his length down my throat. His seed spilled into my mouth in warm and delicious spurts, painting my throat with his sticky arousal. Every bit of him tasted like heaven and in this moment I swear that I would do anything that anybody asks as long as I get to stay here. As long as I get to feel him. 

“Y/n” His hand lightly lays on the back of my head, stroking my hair slightly. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” I bob my head a couple of times, milking his arousal from him until I’m sure that I’ve got every last drop. Once he’s come down from his high I sit up, releasing his cock from my mouth with a faint ‘pop’ and licking my lips. I sit back into my seat, settling in a bit while we watch each other. Chan’s chest is rising and falling heavily and there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, once he seem to have composed himself a little the tiniest chuckle falls from his lips as he begins to tuck himself back into his sweatpants

“Do you think that fulfilled your lust for me?” 

“Not even close.”

[cutegirlmayra]

Prompt: The latest battle with eggman send Amy and Sonic deep into the wilderness. Communicators broken, trackers busted, and Sonic breaks a leg leaving Amy to find them food, shelter and protect Sonic. While they rest Amy asks Sonic questions about their relationship that she's always wanted to know but too scared to ask. They talk but are discovered and Amy has to fend off the robot until Tails finds them. After they're saved Sonic has a new appreciation for Amy and is happy she's in his life.

Prompts are on shutdown EVERYWHERE, posting on my other writing sites DOES NOT mean you get your prompt done XD It’s only through here, on Tumblr, when the GRAND REOPENING is announced, which it is NOT. Thank you, lovely Cuties~ I’m sorry it’s taking so long, I’m trying to finish Fanfiction TAT

Prompt:

A spinning, spiky blue ball revs itself up in the air at a high-pitched frequency, dropping down almost with an intense sense of gracefulness as it tears seamlessly through Eggman’s latest doom’s day device.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!” Eggman grips his head with both his massive, puffy gloves and reels his head back, “I won’t let you get away with this! Not this time, Hedgehog!” Stomping around his large ship, he slams his hand on a button which triggers a lever he pulls down, thus activating a flipping panel on the ground that looks like a car’s gas pedal which he stomps on, and in turn lowers a dangling line above his head with a triangular grip that is meant to be tugged.

Still fuming, grinding his teeth against each other, he growls and reaches up like a train conductor and pulls it, “Take this! You spiny little cretiiiinnn!!!”

With a howling roar, spit flying from his agape mouth, Eggman’s ship lowered the tip of its nose, making the haul of its stomach ‘chin-dip’ and slam down to the ground.

Sonic, still well-within the confines shredding through the ship’s interior, suddenly found his once-smooth aerial dive now wonkily swerving before turning horizontal.

As Eggman laughed, Sonic’s spin ball started creating heat and pressure… Sonic didn’t stop the rotation, but soon was slowly breaking through the hard metal one more and popped out of a hallway, moving now like a spinning-top on his side.

Eggman’s face dropped, “WHHHAATT???!!!” He slammed his hands down, looking with horror and shock at the cameras and following the image as he sweated in fear.

The Cameras zoomed in, and it showed Sonic using a single toe, perfectly placed on the tip of his foot, to keep himself spinning at such high speeds while turned on his side.

“Curse that infernal-!” Eggman smushed his face with gripping fingers, before a robot tugged on his coat and made him look down, “Hmm?” He saw the robot pull out a crowbar, and point to it.

Eggman blinked twice… before smirking wickedly to him…

When Sonic burst through the doors of the control room, balancing out his spinning top self and wobbling to try and locate what to shred into next, the tiny robot by the side of the doors, hiding from sight, swung and hit his spinning leg.

There was a crack and Sonic unspun with a dramatic pose of spiraling in the air, his eyes squinted shut in pain before Tails’s X-Tornado dived and shot through the window, making air burst into the space and–as most vacuums do–thrust Sonic out of the room and be dragged by the sky out into the open space.

“Grr… Trying to get away that easily, eh?” Thinking he had the upper hand now, even though he was kneeling on the ground and having a hand bring down his goggles from the rushing wind, Eggman still tried to sound cocky and confident.

“You there!” He pointed to the robot who was on the ground now, his hands under him, surprised that plan actually worked and jolted with a spark at being addressed, turning to his commander and sovereign Eggman. “Don’t just lay about!” He swiped his arm out, “Do something!!!”

Realizing the Doctor was putting everything onto his tiny computerized brain’s hand to hatch another genius but simple idea, the robot waddled over a bit awkwardly to the cabinet.

Delicately, he opened it and flinched at the door swinging open, then pulled tenderly out a bazooka.

“Oh, I forgot we had one of those…” Eggman’s face looked a little like a man having forgotten where he put his keys.

Cocking it, the little metal and cylinder soldier began to try and walk towards the window before the wind began to pull him out as well.

His tiny little tin legs wiggled vigorously, but his firm grip on the large firepower he was wielding didn’t budge while he spun slowly during the drop into the air.

“TINY TIMMM!!!!” Eggman cried out, holding a hand out to him, “YOU BETTER BLAST HIM WHILE YOU’RE OUT THEEERREEE!!! This isn’t a vacation, you know! You’re still on duty!!!” He gripped that hand into a fist, showing that he was giving an order, not a moment of compassion.

The Robot, having oily tears in their eyes, realized that Eggman just gave him a name.

Even though the irony of breaking Sonic’s leg, and the christmas season didn’t quite register with the robotic soldier, he took that as a sign of promotion into Eggman’s steely, black heart and was determined to not fail him.

He turned his body toward looking to the earth, and watching to see where Sonic landed…

“Soooniiiccc!!!” Tails cried out, turning around the plane but Eggman was sure to grab at the controls and fire at him, making Tails unable to pursue Sonic’s descent. “Err..!” He squinted an eye, having to pull up. “I can’t reach him!”

“What?” Knuckles, on his communicator, looked down at it as Amy covered her mouth in alarm. “What do you mean..?” His eyes shook a second and looked up with Amy, as they each scanned the skies…

Amy then gasped, “Look!” She pointed one hand out towards the flaming blue speck in the sky, falling towards the jungle-like forest, and another on Knuckles’s shoulder to gain his attention to the detail.

“Grr..!!! That lousy-!” Knuckles shook a fist, but pulled Amy up over his head.

“W-Wah-Whaaa!!!” Amy shook out her arms, “K-Knuckles!” She wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but suddenly feeling like he was going to throw her, she summoned her Piko-Piko Hammer.

“Grrr… I can’t fly to him in time! You’ll have to reach him on your owwwnnnn…!!!” Just as her instincts had foretold, he launched her through the air and she curled, her little red and white-trimmed dressing making it look like a badminton ball flapped wildly as she spun while still keeping her dress on.

Her hammer rotated so profusely, that as her own spinball hit against the trees, bounced off the ground, or slammed against rock, it kept her momentum moving and propelling her ever closer to the falling Sonic.

Finally, soaring up with one final, hard hit to the ground, she unspun and reached for Sonic… noticing the pain in his face and braving through the flames of his burning body to catch him before a deadly fate.

She landed on a tree’s branch, but it fell and they both started to fall painfully through scratching twigs and leaves.

When Amy woke up… snow had begun to fall in the forest, and her little nose wiggled a second before her mouth wound-up twice and sneezed, pushing the small flake off.

“Emm… S-Sonic?” She rubbed her head, slowly getting herself onto her rear and sitting somewhat more upright. “That was a rough landing…” She groaned through the aches, but then gasped when she remembered, “Sonic!!!” She started to grip and throw up the leaves below her, searching frantically for him.

A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face, gritting her teeth as her eyes shook in loving worry, ‘His leg was just dangling kinda weirdly in the air, just then… Was it injured?’ She kept calling his name… to no avail.

Her chest fell and rose with cold air quickly icing her resolve, stinging at her heart already pumping with the warm adrenaline to save the man she called hero… whom she loved, dearly.

“SOOONIIICC!!!” She finally let out a single, elongated note of his familiar name…

Silence… the snowy forest…

Her breaths clung to the air like hot mist, pocketing that space before disappearing as quickly as blowing a bubble to pop. Scrambling, she got up to locate her communicator.

Pieces of the broken device were pulled out and held up to her face, making her look down as though her heart had sucken to that cold ground as well…

“No… Did I not…” Her shoulders bounced, tears unable to remain corralled in the pools of her lower eyelids. “Did I not make it in time..?”

Her hand shook with that open thought, as the pieces of metal slipped through her fingers, falling to the light snowy patches below her feet.

“Sonic…” she gripped her fists and felt herself faltering in being able to remain upright, hunching over. “Sonic…” She felt she was at blame, and slunk to her knees, freezing her even further to what could be the harsh reality of the situation…

“No… I won’t believe it.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her arm. “I… I gotta keep looking for Sonic..!” She bit her words as though to hold them fast to her heart, “Sonic…” She muttered once more, “Soooniiiccc!!” She reared herself up and began to charge about the area, searching everywhere, leaving no square foot unmarked by her own shoe’s print.

She could hear the sky battle above her head, and looked to see that Tails was still engaged with the now, downwards angle of the Eggman fleet’s main air-cruiser.

Her eyes couldn’t help but tremble, her body leaning away before her hands flung up and tightened around each arm. “I can’t… I gotta keep looking for him.” Her lips felt chapped and the cold only reminded her of the drying of her tears… before she quickly aboutfaced to keep looking for him.

Walking up a hill, treading through its piles of snow, she looked up to see the sky was now blanketed in the smoke of Eggman’s senseless war. “Guess I can’t rely on Tails or Eggman as a point-marker now.” She blinked through the chill of the wind, and sighed as she tried to figure out where she hadn’t looked.

“Could he have really been tossed from me so far..? OFFPH!” Tripping over some blue grass, she had scraped her knee and got up, shaking her head from having snow blanket it for a moment-

Blue… Grass?

Her eyes widened and she lifted her leg to see the gentle sway of the blue quills, just the tip sticking out from beneath the snow.

“SOONIICC!!!” Her heart about leaped out through her flailing to get back up, tugging on the quill and realizing it was fully stuck under the snow. She began to dig like her life depended on it, and… to a degree, he was.

“Sonic, breath! Speak! Wiggle! Do… something!” She tried to speak out before finally getting an arm and exclaiming loudly in surprised triumphant that she had gotten to him.

She tugged and began to pull him out, but he felt like dead weight.

Panic lit up her senses and now, she couldn’t feel the cold, but hoisted him up onto her back and began to run down the hill, hurrying to where they had last been, finding an open tree’s roots there and finding it a good, hollow den to at least try and wake Sonic up in.

Using the fallen leaves, she constructed a small bed for him, laying him down as saw that one of his legs fully detached from the bone.

She covered her mouth, “Oh no…” The pain must have knocked him out… he was probably passed out from the wind blasting by him on his fall anyway…

She gently touched the burnt ends of his quills and fur… Her eyes bunching up as though unable to see him in such a state.

“Oh, Sonic…” She brought his head up and tried to warm him, blowing lightly warm air out of her throat to his face.

“Please, Sonic… You have to at least show me you’ll be alright…”

After a while, Sonic woke up to find his leg was perfectly straightened by two twigs, and someone had put it back in it’s socket… “Ah… Glad I was asleep for that.” He twitched at the pain but tried to move to turn around. However, it was too much for the poor hedgehog, having endured firepower beyond normal mortal means, he couldn’t possibly stand for the fiery pain of a severely broken leg.

“Gahh…” He tried to lean up, “Who… Where am I?” He noticed a fire was burning, and looked strangely at the comforting glow, realizing he wasn’t alone.

“Tails?” He first questioned the thought, ‘But then… he’d just take me back in the X-Tornado… I’d be having warm soup by now…’ He squinted one eye down and finally was sitting upright, being careful to not move the lame leg, “Knuckles?” It was reasonable, but that echidna wouldn’t be foraging for berries or anything. He’d imagine Knuckles would have sat by the fire, the earth too hard to dig through during the winter seasons…

So that meant…

“Amy?” He raised an eyebrow, as though second-guessing that before hearing a bright voice exclaim in joy at hearing her name being called.

“Oh! Sonic! You’re awake!”

Waiting a moment, he smiled as Amy came rushing in, holding more firewood that she quickly just dumped to the side, some catching fire but she didn’t care at the moment. “SOONIICC!!! I was so worried about you!” she hugged him which made him have to hold back a cry, his banded leg with two sticks keeping it from twisting and turning further only moved slightly from Amy’s tackling hug.

She was warm, though… and her voice filled him with ease.

He hugged her back, “Thank you.” He calmly stated, “But what happened?” He looked to her face, then outside to the rain of explosions that sounded in the blurry, clouded sky… “Is that… smoke?”

“Em.” Amy nodded, letting him go and tilting her body in the same direction as the sounds, “The communicator broke on our fall, I don’t know how long Tails has been fighting in the air, but I’m pretty sure Eggman and our friends have lost sight of where he landed.” She lowered her shoulders a bit, then rotated one around to stretch it. “Hoo…”

“Amy? You okay?” He noticed she looked a little worse for wear as well, “You’re stone cold to the touch.” He placed a glove to her arm before reflexing off of it, then placing it there again. “How long were you out there..?”

She smiled, glad he couldn’t recollect how close to death he was while in the cold of the soggy snow he was buried under moments before.

“It’s nothing~” She chimed, “I’m a tough girl, as well as cute, after all!” She put her hands to the sides of her cheeks, trying to get him to not worry about her so much.

“I think we should probably move when the smoke rolls out… or when the gunfire finally stops.” She admitted, looking to the skies again and dropping her hands to her knees.

Sonic later asked her about how she got to him, and she explained the whole story… eeexcept the part about him almost suffocating under snow.

They talked and ate some of the wild onion grass she had collected, finding not a scrap left on the trees or bushes, figuring the other little critters had stored up for the coming winter anyway.

Not really liking the taste of it, Sonic just tried to see if he could hop on one leg, but Amy refused to let him go out to fight again.

Reluctantly, Sonic decided it was only polite to thank his brave rescuer by waiting it out.

But all the while… they worried about their friends well-beings… as the canons kept going off relentlessly.

“... You think they’re winning?” Amy asked, “Or… Eggman is at least… missing?” She flinched as a large blast seemed to hit the ground a couple long miles away from them.

Sonic, with his hands behind his head, and a blade of onion grass sticking out of his mouth, took a frustrated breath in and sighed out just as quickly. “We can’t hide out here forever, Amy… My leg isn’t gonna heal that quickly.” He tried to reason with her, and she knew that was probably right… but…

“Just… a little longer… let’s believe in Tails and Knuckles… to solve this on their own, okay?” She looked back with a forced smile, her hand gripping her heart. “Seeing you like this… it makes me… unable to let you go… right now.” She admitted, lowering her head and not having the courage to look at him in shame.

He eyed her with a turn of his gaze, not moving his head, before closing his eyes and not saying anything more about it.

The wind howled… before a foot fall was heard and Amy perked up, her ears twitched and she rushed out from the intertwined roots, “Knuckles!?” She exclaimed, more than expecting to see he had found them… before…

“... Sonic! Roll! Now!” She threw herself back to him as he looked to see a large missile fired into the hole.

Crying out in pain, he rolled as the blast sent the two flying to the back of the hollow tree.

Amy picked up Sonic’s spiky spinball, “Don’t uncurl! Whatever you do!” She cried out, as Sonic also–through immense pain–called her name but she was already grabbing a stick from the fire, the rest of the roots on fire from the blast anyway, and charged out of the large space.

She gasped as she noticed a small Eggman Robot, cocking the bazooka which had smoke slithering out of its mouth.

“You…” Amy’s eyes narrowed, her anger giving her the needed heat throughout her body, ready to fight.

“He’s already injured! Leave us alone!” She shouted out, but Sonic couldn’t help and voice his concerns as well.

“Amy! Your back!” She could feel something cool drip down in different areas from her exposed back… but it was already frostbitten and she didn’t dare think about what he was referring to.

“I’m fine. You just stay put and in your ball, Sonic.” She breathed through the pain that was now burning from her back.

However… this sting was like when she first lost Sonic, it moved her forward, adrenaline coursing through her like Sonic moving through a winding course.

Amy set Sonic down, “Amy!” he cried out again, moving in wobbly attempts to ‘roll’ after her as she stepped up to bat.

“It’s okay, I’m your strength too, Sonic!” She pulled the hammer up behind her shoulders, “Ready…” she narrowed her eyes, skidding a foot forward as though truly a baseball pro up for bat.

Sonic tilted his rolled body against her other, back leg, “Amy…” He couldn’t argue with that.

“... Aren’t I..?”

Uncurling, Sonic groaned out as the leg–the wooden beams now snapped and bent–was forced back into a straight position. His own problems meant nothing to him right now, though.

He looked up at Amy, seeing the wavering belief in her eyes, remembering that for a moment… she may have been the ultimate end for Sonic The Hedgehog…

Her memory went back to having no sign of him… and that haunted her… Was she really able to be there for Sonic… the way he was always there for her?

A shadow rose to meet her own on the ground, lightly shaded, as the clouds of smog were starting to clear out.

She gasped, looking down to see Sonic’s silhouette was on one leg, his arms then trailing up to her own around her hammer.

She could feel the warm and comforting breath he spoke by her cheek, telling her to wait on his signal.

The robot fumbled a little getting the bazooka back in order, but then went to fire.

“... Now.” Sonic’s voice was light, but his grip held stronger around her hand.

She swung with everything she had while Sonic fell back to the ground, unable to hold himself up much longer due to the crippling pain.

The missile fired but Amy heard Sonic say, “Now let go!!!!” In a ripping sound that shredded through her heartstrings… realizing how much he was suffering, but how that simple act showed her that he did trust in his friends–especially her in this moment–to get through it.

She let the hammer go and balanced herself, her dress spinning to one side of her body before the hammer’s top plugged and jammed itself into the firing bazooka.

The Robot made computerized noises of horror before exploding along with the gun.

Sonic and Amy fell by each other’s side in the blast, and Amy gripped onto Sonic.

In the cold of falling snow… the two breathed through great pain…

Shared pain… as Sonic’s and Amy’s eyes looked up to each other’s… and a smile greater than pain emerged upon both their faces.

“We… erk… did it.” Amy’s back jerked from the tortuous mix of frost and burn mingling upon its bare skin…

“No, Amy.” Sonic also couldn’t keep both eyes opened, but squinted one. His charming smile never faded though, “You did it… You’ve always got my back.” He gritted his teeth, but tried to make it look like a bright smile. “Thank you… again… A-Amy…”

Knuckles soon found them, Tails flew them home, and they ended up resting on opposite couches from each other.

While she read the insisted book about King Arther, the one Sonic kept trying to convince her had happened to him being pulled into it, making him miss one of their planned dates, he also reached over and held her hand, pretending to fall asleep.

She smiled as she read more of the book… wondering all the while…

“... Sonic?”

She knew he wouldn’t answer.

“If I am your strength… why do I feel like… I’m not?” She put the book down over her chest, turning to the couch’s spine to avoid looking over to him. “If I was your strength… I wouldn’t have shut you into that tree hole den… I would have trusted that I could get you out of there… carry you to safety, and reunite with Tails and Knuckles again to save the day.”

While she spoke, Sonic pretended to be asleep, but listened closely.

“... Then… When you braved the pain of your leg to stand beside me..? I knew then… that while you were down, so was my strength.” She teared up, “But when you got up…” Her voice began to wane and take on a higher tune, as she wiped her eyes with the back of her glove. Her lips trembled, but she continued, “I… I need you more than I think you need me, Sonic… And that… That worries me.” She sniffled, “Cause… Cause what if I’m needy? What if… without you… I’m nothing short of a useless girl?”

Sonic made a loud snore, then. It cut her off as she said ‘useless’.

She turned to see his head straight up at the ceiling, his mouth open wide,... “Ammmy…” He lightly spoke, as though asleep. “Ammmyyy…” His hand acted as though reaching for her hand, but it was already there…

That’s when she noticed, her grip on his hand had slipped somewhat, and she held it tightly but gently once more.

Sonic’s breathing went back to normal… and Amy smiled till her cheeks hurt.

“Oh, Sonic…” She giggled through her light tears and wiped them all away this time. “Even if I don’t understand what strength I give you… Just knowing… that together, we’re stronger? That’s enough for me… Cause right now, you getting better is all I care about.” She sighed and went back to the book.

She gasped when she looked at her hand and saw Sonic had tugged it closer.

“A-ah… Ow, ow, Sonic!” He was dragging her off the other couch. “Sonic! Ow! I’ll fall!”

He started to turn, as though in his sleep, snoring again and making Amy stumble out of the couch as he wrapped her arm around his waist.

She pouted a cute blush, but then sighed, “I know you’re not asleep, silly… Your actual snore is totally different.” She gave in, moving her bandaged self to lift up his head and place him on her lap, patting his shoulder and humming a tune.

Sonic closed his mouth, the jig was up, and he just smiled as she tried to actually lull him to sleep.

Though he had to let go of her hand for her to do that, he reached under his body to get at the hand that was resting just by his neck… and she smiled at how sweet that was…

“... You are my strength, Sonic.” She leaned down, continuing to hum.

When she had actually fallen to sleep, Sonic placed her laying on the couch he was momentarily on, replacing her, and before hopping to the other one, placed a hand on her head and lightly whispered, “You’re more than my strength, Amy… You're my whole heart, entirely.”

In the morning, Amy woke up to find Tails in a tissy, worried sick as Sonic had somehow miraculous snuck out of his workshop home and was nowhere to be found.

A moment of panic did course through Amy, before thinking to herself, ‘... If he’s strong again, then I’ll be strong too.’ and went back to not worrying about him… resting… as she smiled at feeling secure again in that–as long as Sonic was up and about, she’d be pretty soon as well!

[cantujordan91]

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[darthkruge]

hello lovely!! i’ve been getting back into star wars lately and i’ve been loving your fics!! and i was wondering if i could make a request?? sort of like,, anakin but he doesn’t turn to the dark side type thing?? like he maybe confesses he’s scared to lose you and you help him through it?? maybe obi wan helps out?? honestly you can take it however you want :)) ty ty

anakin skywalker x reader || rewritten

summary || a rots fix it fic where i take many liberties and give anakin a support system + everyone gets better communication and we think about how it would perhaps end differently

warnings || hella canon divergence, angst w/ a happy ending, some violence (non graphic and not super described)

words || 5.1k (i am legit shocked)

a/n || hello and thank you!! i’m so glad you’ve been loving my fics! this fic was honestly super challenging for me and it ended up being the longest thing i’ve ever written. i made some big changes and lots of smaller ones, but each one was fully intentional. i really, really hope y’all like it <3

main masterlist || anakin masterlist 

gif credit

-----

Anakin awoke with a start, chest heaving and covered in sweat. He was gripping the blankets as he tried to ground himself, frantically looking around as if to discern between reality and the horrid dreamscape his mind created. He whipped his head to the side, visibly relaxing as he saw you staring up at him, a confused look on your face. 

You were no stranger to Anakin’s nightmares but this one seemed unlike any he’d ever had. You slept curled into him and, thus, his jolt caused one of your own. Unsure if he wanted your touch just yet, you reached out to him with the Force. Panic, loss, grief, fear, terror, insecurity. You looked into his eyes, watching as they slowly cleared and he registered your presence. He blinked quickly, trying to clear the tears from his vision and gave you a slight nod. 

Reaching a tentative hand to his shoulder, you suppressed a gasp as you felt him shudder beneath you. You quietly whispered his name and placed a finger under his jaw, guiding his face to yours. You nodded back at him and opened your arms in silent invitation. He crawled into your embrace as you pulled him impossibly close to you, situating yourself against the headboard so you could better wrap yourself around his shaking body. Choked sobs erupted from his lips, each one tearing a hole in your heart. As he finally let himself cry with his face buried into your neck, you held him. By the Maker, you held him. 

He didn’t want to speak just yet and you understood. You’ve always extended the same respect back to him as he gives to you. Tucked into you, Anakin’s fingers squeezed into your flesh, as if trying to remind himself you were solid. You placed a few kisses into his soft hair and onto his forehead, hands running up and down his arms and back. You physically pressed reminders of your love into his skin for hours and, somewhere in the midst of your embrace, he let himself fall into a state of limbo. Unawake, unasleep, umoving, yet feeling everything you had to offer. 

----

When morning came, you reached out once again. The emotions from last night were still evident, just not as strong. Simultaneously, you allowed a small smile to come to you as you felt something new. Warmth, comfort, love. You ran your fingers through Anakin’s hair to pull him to consciousness, needing to see his eyes. Stars, his eyes. While they were absolutely gorgeous, they also always gave him away. You once told him that. “Only for you, my love.” He’d replied. 

“Hi.” He croaked out, meeting your gaze. Your eyes fluttered closed for a second as you took a deep breath in relief. His eyes were clear. You didn’t know how long the shadows would be banished for, but as long as they weren’t constant, you had hope. 

“Hi, baby.” You whispered, allowing yourself to give him another forehead kiss, made easy by your position that you’d somehow remained in throughout the night. You looked at him expectantly and knew he knew what you were asking.

“You… you died,” Anakin started. His eyes were already filling with tears. “It wasn’t clear. There was so much blood. And you kept begging me to help you. You screamed and screamed and screamed and you were in agony and…” 

You took his hand in yours, squeezing his fingers in encouragement to go on.

“I never- I never came for you.” He spit the words out as if they were venomous and shook his head. You could hear the self-hatred in his words, the way he couldn’t grasp the concept of hurting you, ever, and yet how seriously he took this. 

“Hey, hey. Stop, my love.” You said, hoping to pull him out of his spiral. “You would never harm me, Anakin. You would come for me, you always have. That was a horrible dream and I’m so sorry you had to experience it. But it was just a dream, Anakin. It’s not real.” 

He pulled away from you as if he couldn’t stand to feel your gentle touch. “No, no, no! It-” His words were cut off by his uneven breathing, his pulse racing as he relived the nightmare. “It felt like the ones I had about my mother. It felt… prophetic. I’m scared, Y/N, I can’t lose you.” 

You walked over to him, placing your hands on his cheeks and rubbing your thumbs over his cheekbones, hoping to calm him. “You won’t. It takes a lot to kill me, you know? Especially when I have you by my side.” 

Anakin nodded but you could tell he was unconvinced. 

“How about you talk to Obi-Wan about the dreams? He’s always helped you before.” You suggested. 

While normally this would be unthinkable, as it would expose your relationship, Anakin felt himself pulled toward the choice. Inwardly, he admitted that he could definitely use a friend right now. And Obi-Wan had always stood by him. Somehow, he just knew that now would be no different.  

------

Obi-Wan easily swung the door open with the Force before Anakin even had a chance to knock. He knew his former Padawan’s force signature like the back of his hand and had sensed his distress for days. Unbeknownst to Anakin, Obi-Wan had canceled his missions due to this, wanting to stay close for when Anakin eventually came to him for guidance. 

Obi-Wan looked up from his paperwork as he realized Anakin refused to come closer. Huddled behind the door frame, a conflicted and fearful look on his face, Obi-Wan was struck by how similar Anakin looked to the little boy he’d found on Tatooine all those years ago. Many nights, young Anakin would come into Obi-Wan’s room, plagued with nightmares. Just as before, Obi-Wan never turned him away. 

“Something’s troubling you.” 

Anakin sighed, taking a tentative step forward. “You know Master L/N?”

Obi-Wan smiled knowingly, having a sense of where this is going. “Yes, of course. A brilliant strategist, much like yourself.” 

“I…. I’m involved with them, Master.” 

“Involved?” Obi-Wan replied, with a quirked eyebrow.

“Please don’t punish Y/N for this, I know the Council frowns upon relationships. If you need to report it, I understand. But just report me, say they had nothing to do with it. But before you do anything please, Master, listen to what I must tell you. I wouldn’t unless it was absolutely necessary.” Anakin pleaded. 

“Anakin, I know.” 

“Yeah, I mean it truly is necessary-” 

Obi-Wan placed a comforting hand on the younger Jedi’s shoulder. “You misunderstand. I mean, I know.” 

Anakin’s eyes widened with realization before confusion filtered into his gaze. “But we were so careful!” 

“Not as much as you would think,” Obi-Wan said with a slight laugh.

“And you’re not upset?”

He sighed. “Being honest, I was a bit at first. Anakin, you know the rules and you can be so reckless at times! But how could I fault you for your own humanity? And I knew who you were when I met you. I was always aware of your compassion, your capacity for emotions.” Anakin nodded and smiled, but the faraway look in his eye never wavered. 

Clearing his voice, Obi-Wan continued. “Are you alright, Anakin?” 

“No.” The strength of the word shocked them both and caused Anakin to take a moment to compose himself. “They’re dying.”

Panic flashed through Obi-Wan’s expression. “They’re what? What happened? Was it a mission? Do the medics know? Is-” 

“- No, nothing… nothing yet. But it will.” While Obi-Wan didn’t exactly understand, he could tell through Anakin’s tone that his former Padawan believed this with his entire soul. 

“I’ve been having more nightmares.” Anakin said. 

“Like the ones with your mother?” 

Anakin nodded, his gaze muddled as his mind wove through every possibility on how to save you. Coming up with none, he looked up quickly, the lost confusion clear. 

“It’s going to be alright, Anakin. We’re going to do this together.” Obi-Wan offered, trying to comfort his friend. When Anakin nodded this time, his expression had more hope in it. Obi-Wan returned the gesture, tipping his head as Anakin walked out. Before Anakin reached the door, Obi-Wan called his name. 

“Talk to me if you feel troubled. About anything, my friend. And just know… it’s okay to feel afraid. And you’re no less a Jedi because you love them. At least, not in my eyes.” For the first time since he’d walked in the room, Anakin gave a true smile. His former Master inhaled deeply, realizing after hearing those words, Anakin looked more like himself than he had in a long while. 

----- 

A few hours and a Council meeting later, Anakin walked back into your chambers, closing the door with a huff. He wasn’t enraged, per se, but definitely conflicted. You approached him cautiously, heart falling when you saw those familiar clouds back in his eyes. 

“Did Obi-Wan not take it well?”

Anakin shook his head. “It’s not… he was supportive. But the Council has assigned something to me and…” He trailed off and looked at you. Only then did you see his bloodshot, puffy eyes. 

“What did they ask of you, Anakin?” You questioned, coming behind him to gently massage his tense shoulders. 

“I’m needed to spy on the Chancellor. Apparently there’s a Sith Lord somewhere in the Order. They suspect him.” He tried to keep his voice strong, but you could see how torn apart he was by the inflection in his tone. 

You took a breath and tried to process the information. “Will you do it?”

“I don’t know… if the Council tells me I must, then I must. But the Chancellor has only been good to me. I worry about betraying him but I don’t want to let down the Order. I’m not sure how to do this without causing someone harm.” He confessed. 

“They shouldn’t have put you in this position, it’s unfair. And you don’t have to, Ani. I know it feels like you do but you don’t need to bend to each of the Council’s requests. Whatever the fallout, whatever you choose, please know that I’m with you. And so is Obi-Wan. Not that it fixes anything, but at the very least, you’ll always have us.” 

Anakin turned around so he was facing you. “I don’t know what to do.” He whispered, voice laced with hopelessness. 

“Trust yourself. You have a good heart, intelligence, and strong morals. They’ve never failed you before.”

He nodded before leaning into you and your arms instinctively wrapped around him. Your fingertips found their way to his hair, gently weaving through the golden strands. 

“We’ll get through this, yeah?” While it was a question, you both knew you meant it as a statement.

“We’ll get through this.” Anakin echoed. He mumbled the words into your neck where he had buried his face. As if the words could seep into your skin. As if the hope could find its way to your heart and stay there, ever protected, ever true. 

-----

The next day, Anakin found himself in Palpatine’s office. He was wary, guarded. It was evident by the look on his eyes, the way he took a moment before taking another step. It was his training as both a Jedi and a General that allowed him to do this. The careful complexity of planning every move. 

“I heard the Council debating whether or not they should have made you a Master. It seems they do not trust you or value your talent as they should.” Palpatine’s words made Anakin freeze. Rationally, he knew this was wrong. At the very least, Obi-Wan trusts him and so do you. But there was a part of him that felt so validated by the Chancellor’s words that he wanted to hear more. To bask in them, in feeling wanted and appreciated. He hated himself for it. 

“I… I’m not sure what you mean by this.” Anakin attempted not to give himself away any more than he already has. 

“Well, they care about your potential. But they hold you back. They’ll never show you your true power, for they don’t want you to understand. They just wish to use it, no matter your own fate.” 

“I feel cast aside. Like I don’t matter.” Anakin wasn’t even sure why he shared these words. Somehow, in feeling so praised, the doubts just bubbled their way to the surface. He felt like a child in these moments, so painfully fragile. 

“You don’t. Not to them, Anakin. But with me I can teach you your power. I can teach you the ways of the Dark Side. I know of your fears, of those nightmares that plague you. I know about your secret marriage and how close you are to losing it all.” 

Anakin froze, his heart hammering in his chest. His thoughts raced as he tried to piece together the truth from all the lies. The mentions of Darth Plagueis. The Dark Side of the Force. 

“You’re the Sith Lord!” Anakin said, igniting his lightsaber and pointing it at the older man’s chest. 

Palpatine bowed his head slightly, a small smile gracing his lips. “Well done, my boy.” Anakin felt sick as he noted the pride in his tone. And yet that aching part inside him still swelled, ever so slightly.

“Now, don’t do anything rash.” The Chancellor reasoned. “Only the Dark Side can save the one you love.” 

Anakin wanted to do the right thing. He wished to be the one who could stand up and arrest Palpatine without a single ounce of guilt or regret. But as soon as Palpatine mentioned you, it’s like all his logic disappeared. He just wanted to save you, to not fail you as he’d failed his mother. But then he thought back to your words. “Strong morals.” And to his Master’s. “We’ll do this together.”

“I’m turning you into the Council.” 

“Wouldn’t you prefer to kill me?”

“Yes.” Anakin’s remark was forceful and clipped with anger.

“Then do it. Give yourself over to your wrath.”

He felt himself burning with betrayal, with resentment toward both sides. Even so, he could still tell right from wrong, selfless from selfish. And whatever Palpatine was doing… it certainly did not have the will of the people in mind. Without so much as deigning him with another response, Anakin turned and walked out of the room.

“If you turn me in, you’ll never save them!” Anakin tried to will Palpatine’s voice out of his head as he ventured back to the Council chambers. When he arrived back, he decided to slightly alter his plans. While he knew he must face all of them eventually, he wanted to talk to Obi-Wan first. Perhaps his Master could give him guidance, like he did about your nightmares. 

“General Skywalker… are you alright?” Anakin stumbled as he walked right into another figure, too caught up in his own head.

“I’m fine, Master Windu. Thank you- I’m sorry.” Mace looked at the younger Jedi with an unreadable expression. While there was much in his eyes, concern was definitely a part of it. 

“Have you seen Master Kenobi?” Anakin said after a brief pause for composure. 

“He’s supposed to leave for his next mission any moment now. If you hurry, you can probably still catch him.” 

Anakin thanked Master Windu before taking off in a run. No matter how fast his legs carried him, he felt his mind was working even faster, the internal conflict brewing more intently by the second. 

-----

Obi-Wan opened the door as soon as before Anakin could even knock. He looked at Anakin and gestured at a vacant chair, a silent invitation to sit. Anakin shook his head quickly. The younger Jedi’s eyes were scattered and conflicted, as if he’d been shaken to his very core. 

“Palpatine is the Sith Lord.” The words came out rushed, yet clear. As if Anakin needed to get them out as quickly as he could but replayed them in his head until they were all he knew. The intensity showed Obi-Wan that there was no doubt in his friend’s mind. 

Obi-Wan blinked. “Okay.” He stroked his beard, trying to find the words to say. “Are you alright?”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan in confusion. Certainly there were more important questions his former Master would want to ask than that. 

“I know you and the Chancellor were close. This can’t be easy for you. I just wanted to ask if you were alright.” 

“I’m not sure.” Anakin said after some hesitation. “I don’t really know what to think… Palpatine is evil, right? But he believed in me when no one else did. He saw my potential, allowed me to confide in him. He told me he could show me how to save Y/N. Would someone evil do that?” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened as he looked at the painfully conflicted young man in front of him. “Anakin… he was manipulating you. He was isolating you so you had no one to turn to but him. It was a tactic, a ploy. He doesn’t care for you.” Anakin looked so heartbroken that Obi-Wan knew Anakin believed him. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But what about Y/N?” Anakin asked desperately.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Loving someone in the Order isn’t easy. Especially after everything you’ve gone through. And losing someone… it changes the way you love. You fear constantly, wondering when your love will evade you. When it will fall apart, like all the rest. But living like that, loving like that… it leaves no room for growth or peace. And that’s what relationships are for, aren’t they?” His voice was filled with compassion and wisdom. From experience, perhaps? Regardless of the reason, Anakin was reminded that someone did understand him. Despite the circumstances, he felt content. At least a bit. 

“Is there any way to save them?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s focus on Palpatine for now, alright? And we’ll bring Master L/N with us so you know they’re safe.” Obi-Wan wished nothing more than having a set solution to save Y/N. But some things were even out of his grasp. “I know this must be impossible for you, Anakin. I truly am sorry.” 

Anakin nodded. After all, it was true. If there was anything to describe the impending threat of losing another person he loved, impossible summed up the process. “I know. You’re doing all you can. Thank you, Master. And yes, I would like to bring them with us.” 

Obi-Wan clasped a hand to Anakin’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze as they met each other with a smile. “I’ll send them a message right now.”

----

You gasped when you received Obi-Wan’s message with the details of the Supreme Chancellor’s truth. Your heart cried for Anakin, knowing the betrayal must be breaking him. All you could do was wish that with Obi-Wan’s help, the two of you could support Anakin until he felt like he could breathe again. And you had faith in him. You always had faith in him. 

Grabbing your cloak, you jogged to Obi-Wan’s quarters. As soon as you opened the door, you ran to Anakin and hugged him to you, needing to feel his presence. Somehow, you knew he needed it, too. 

“Ready?” Anakin and Obi-Wan gave you nods of confirmation and you gave a tentative smile. “Alright. Let’s do this.” 

-----

Anakin entered Palpatine’s chambers first. For once, he felt sure of himself. He finally knew what he had to do. His gaze shifted to you, making sure you were alright. You placed a hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb up and down to reassure him. He inhaled. Exhaled. And ignited his saber. 

“I knew you’d come back, Skywalker. I knew you’d join me.” 

“Think again.” Obi-Wan responded as you and him walked into the chambers. Pure, unfiltered rage flickered through Palpatine’s eyes in response.

“Anakin, they’re trying to corrupt you. They’re trying to keep your power. Come with me, boy, and I’ll teach you all you wish to know. I’ll teach you how to save them.” He said, pointing a pale finger toward your face. 

You let out a sharp breath as you suddenly understood Anakin’s conflict. Of course Palpatine was using you as a bargaining chip. Using Anakin’s fear of abandonment, of losing his loved ones against him. It was disgusting, even for a Sith. 

“I… you can’t possibly know how to do that. It’s impossible!” 

“Not on the Dark Side. Look… Obi-Wan has turned them against you. He’s the cause of this! I’m sure he didn’t even pose a solution to saving Y/N. It’s because he doesn’t care about you, not like I do.” 

The shadows returned to Anakin’s eyes as his gaze switched between Obi-Wan and Palpatine. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at you, to see the pain in your eyes as he struggled with a choice that for others would be so simple. He hated himself for being weak but he truly couldn’t fathom losing you. 

Obi-Wan stepped forward, backing Palpatine against the wall and pointing his lightsaber at Palpatine’s throat. Anakin stepped back, too frozen to move, and unconsciously placed himself between them and you.

“It’s over, Chancellor. Don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” Obi-Wan said.

Palpatine shot lightning from his hands, causing Obi-Wan to deflect the matter with his lightsaber, redirecting it to Palpatine himself. As Palpatine shook from the force of his own blast, he once again called to Anakin.

“If you let him kill me, dear boy, Y/N will die. If you don’t try to save them, you will be the cause of their death.” 

Anakin’s eyes widened, those words hitting him right in the chest. He moved forward, pointing his lightsaber at Obi-Wan but refusing to make the final cut to end his life. Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to speak but the effort of holding of Palpatine’s lightning rendered him useless. It was Obi-Wan, after all. His former Master, his friend. The one person who he trusted with the secret of his marriage. He couldn’t kill him, right? He faltered, stepping slightly back. 

“Ani,” You said, your voice calm as you tried to reason with him. “Ani if you do this, you can’t come back from it. I know you don’t want to lose me and if you kill Obi-Wan, you will, regardless of the fate of my life. You aren’t too far gone, yet. You haven’t done anything irredeemable. Remember who you are, my love.” 

Anakin heard your words and looked at your face. You. He wanted to do good by you, to do good by all of them. He wanted to make his mother proud, make himself feel like leaving her for the Jedi Order meant something. And then his gaze filtered over to his friend. Obi-Wan stood tall against the force of Palpatine’s lightning, reminding Anakin of his friend’s strength. It was something Anakin wanted to emulate, too. 

Understanding his choice, Anakin took a step forward to position the blade toward Palpatine’s chest. His hand was shaking, movements unsure, eyes glossed over with immeasurable pain. But before he could make contact, you swiftly moved in front of him and killed Palpatine instead. Obi-Wan was thrust backward as the lightning ceased, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Why would you do that?” Anakin asked as he looked at you. 

“I didn’t want you to have to kill your friend. No matter what he turned out to be.” You said as you shifted on the balls of your feet. The weight of Palpatine’s death now weighed on your soul, as do those of every life you’ve ever ended. You could bear it and you knew Anakin was strong enough to do so, as well. You just didn’t want him to have to. 

Anakin nodded and whispered a thank you back to you. You just smiled, the love for him clear in your expression. Anakin turned around, walking to his friend and extending a hand for him. 

“I never doubted you.” Obi-Wan said simply as he met Anakin’s guilty eyes. 

“I should have made the choice to believe you earlier. I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I’m sorry, Master.” 

“Look at me, Anakin. We all struggle with our morals. We struggle and we’re unsure and we pray and hope to land on the right decision. And you did. You have nothing to apologize for.” Looking at your and Anakin’s arms around each other, Obi-Wan made one last decision. “How about the two of you retire for the evening? I’ll debrief with the Council, you’ve been through enough.” 

Once again, Anakin was struck by the older Jedi’s strength and selflessness. He nodded, as did you, before he accompanied you back to your quarters. 

----

You kept one arm around Anakin’s waist the entire way home, mirroring his that was around your shoulders. You couldn’t bear to separate, not after the events of the past few days. Seeing Anakin so torn up inside, it was eating away at you. Knowing you couldn’t save him was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to deal with. 

Now, Palpatine was finally gone. There was no more threat to the Jedi Order, the Force once again balanced. But both of you still understood the one solution that hadn't been found: how to save you. It made everything easier, that you chose to kill the Chancellor. Anakin refused to voice the doubts in his head, wondering if he actually would have gone through with it knowing he would lose his chance at saving you. 

The air was melancholic surrounding you both. Heavy. Neither of you knew what to say, words failing in a moment that was so conflicted it almost overwhelmed you. But your heart warmed as you saw Anakin scamper in front of you to open and hold the door for you. You loved him so much, for doing the little things even in moments like these. It gave you hope.

You were okay with death, so long as it only affected you. When you joined the Jedi, you had to make your peace with it. But after you fell in love everything changed. You didn’t want Anakin to go through the pain of losing you. He’d been so open with you about, well, everything. Especially his past. He’d gone through so much, felt such raw pain and loss, you didn’t want to add to that. 

Taking his hands in yours, you looked into his blue eyes. 

“I don’t want you to die.” He whispered, the desperate, deflated tone making your heart break. “I won’t.” You wished to say, but you knew you couldn’t. 

“I don’t want to die, either.” You chose these words instead, relying on their honesty. 

“Palpatine could have saved you.” Anakin said after a beat. 

You sighed. “You don’t know that.” You stated, knowing it wouldn’t change how he felt. 

“Neither do you!” 

“But at what cost? At the cost of losing your soul? Anakin, you would have had to join the Sith! That’s no longer you! You’re good and you couldn’t have saved me if you were there, don’t you see that?” You pleaded. You wished he would see your logic, the truth behind your words. How even though he thought otherwise, he made the right decision. 

“What good is saving the Order if you won’t be a part of it?”

“What good is saving my life if I wouldn’t have you to live it with?” You countered. 

Anakin let out an exhausted breath before pulling you into him, hugging you. The fighting was too much and, frankly, he didn’t want to argue. Not with you, not ever. You both let out a humorless chuckle as you leaned into each other. 

“I love you.” His tone conveyed it all. 

“I love you.” You replied, your voice muffled from being pressed into his robes. 

“Can we sleep? I don’t want to face this right now. Can we just put this aside, if just for a moment? Can I lay with you and can you hold me and can we just have each other?” You questioned breathlessly.

“I would like nothing more, my love.” He smiled slightly and pressed a kiss to your head as he added the words of endearment, wanting you to understand he wasn’t upset with you. You already knew that, though. You were in love with Anakin Skywalker. Of course you’d argue from time to time. But at the end of the day, you were two hopelessly in love Jedi just trying to save each other. 

Crawling into bed, sleep came for the both of you quickly. You were holding him and he was holding you, tangled together as you nestled his warm embrace. He tucked his face into your neck as you did so and savored the feel of you next to him. Safe. 

Drifting off, Anakin tried to fight the pull of sleep, knowing he’d just suffer from another nightmare like he had every day since the first one. One where you’d die and he could do nothing to stop it. Amidst these tumultuous thoughts, his breathing evened, lulling him under. 

You were in the grass, a flower crown atop your head. Anakin was leaning against a small house. It was quaint but beautiful. Small, not outwardly flashy, but full of love and meaning. Looking around, he smiled as he saw green vines crawling up the sides of the house, a garden of your favorite flowers out front. You always had a soft spot for that. 

We are on Naboo, he realized. It was peaceful. It was the dream you always talked of together. Anakin’s breath caught as he felt the certainty of this dream. It felt just like his nightmares, except this one left him content. He didn’t want to entertain the thought for too long, afraid of jinxing it. But he knew it was prophetic. He wasn’t sure how he changed his fate, what exactly gave him this future. Something inside him just knew that when he wakes up the next morning, all will be okay. He felt infinitely lighter as he understood the threat was gone. 

When you looked up and saw him, you raced toward him and jumped into his arms. Anakin stumbled but caught you, breathing in your scent as you kissed the side of his neck. As he held you, his thoughts slightly wandered. But he was grounded by your presence, reminding him that you were safe and he was okay. With you, he was finally, completely, home.

-----

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[lovethoery]

pairing: nonidol!jeno + fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: smut! please read at your own risk ♡ also just very soft n fluffy for the most part. it gets a little mean at the end but it’s all consensual and discussed before hand!!! promise.

kinks: slight puppy play, mentions of pegging and strap-ons, dominant reader, submissive jeno, mommy kink, vaginal sex, established relationship, no protection (pls b safe!!), dirty talk, fingering, ♡ big dick jeno ♡, breeding (the reader says not to, but i promise they’ve talked it over and it’s actually okay), mention of pussy eating, name calling?, tummy bulging, drooling.

a/n: i have not been able to stop thinking abt subby puppy jeno... he’s just so good... im not a dom, but for jeno (and mark)? i’ll do anything. this is very much self-indulgent. no i’m not sorry.

jeno’s hips can’t help the way they fuck into your hand, eyes fluttering shut from the feeling. it’s just so good, and he hasn’t gotten his dick wet in months.

“and whose fault is that?” you coo, leaning forward to get in the boy’s face. jeno’s ears are a bright pink, chest and neck beginning to adopt the same hue. he gulps, looking down to where your fingers are wrapping around his length, working him up and down.

“m-mine...” he whispers, mouth parting open as his eyes flutter shut.

“unh-unh. eyes on me, mutt,” you order. jeno’s nothing if not obedient, though, and he opens his eyes quickly, whimpering. “do you wanna fuck mommy?” you can’t miss the way jeno’s eyes light up; it’d be impossible to miss it.

he’s pressed up against the headboard of your shared bed, shirt tossed in a corner somewhere. his jeans are unbuttoned and shoved down messily, boxers still confining most of your boyfriend’s cock. jeno looks an absolute wreck, and you can see the way the thought of being inside your pussy causes him to sink deeper into his fucked out state.

raising a hand, you brush the hair out of his face gently, jeno’s tongue brushing past his lips to wet them. your fingers itch to push past those pretty pillows and make him gag, but you figure you’d save it for later.

“yes or no, angel?”

jeno’s mouth opens wider, then closes. he looks around as if you’re baiting him, but then he speaks softly. “yes...”

“yes what, pup?” your eyes bore into his, daring him to look away when you’re practically dangling a bone in his face—something so sweet and savory. a chance he doesn’t get often.

“yes, mommy,” jeno breathes, eyes wide and borderline innocent. borderline only because you know what he’s really like—desperate, needy, trying everything in his power to keep from breaking any rules you may have set forth tonight. “please let me fuck you...”

the boy beneath you is practically vibrating from the prospect of being inside you once again. he hasn’t been allowed to fuck you as of late due to poor... technique.

“mmm...” you hum, straightening your back to sit up, taller than him; looking down on him like the mutt he is. “do you think you can do a good job? surely with how much mommy’s fucked you, you must’ve learned something, right, puppy?”

jeno whimpers, loud and high in his throat, head moving forward to rest his face in your chest. the boy mouths at your shirt, nuzzling into you. you can’t help but bring your hands to card through his hair, petting him gently. jeno is your most precious boy, after all. “oh, puppy... okay, okay... you can fuck mommy.”

moving off of his lap, you begin to pull your clothes from your body, only to be stopped by jeno. “let me, please...” always such a good boy, you think.

jeno’s fingers tremble when he brings them to the drawstring on your shorts, despite how deft and nimble they typically are. it makes you giggle, laying on your back to allow him to pull the shorts from your legs. he moves slowly, almost like he’s still unsure about it all. you coo, reaching for his wrist. you thumb over the protruding bone, reassuring in your gentle movements. he nods in understanding, spreading your your legs wide to play with your pussy, admiring the way it glistens with your essence.

a sigh slips from the both of you when jeno sinks in his middle finger, and you giggle again. jeno’s eyes snap towards you, making sure he’s doing alright before he’s wiggling the digit carefully. his thumb moves to hook onto your clit, drawing gentle circles. he’s working you up, just like you’d taught him to when you first started having sex.

you moan softly, jeno’s middle finger beginning to crook, searching for your g-spot. your back arches when he finds it, toes curling and the boy between your legs can’t help the way his tongue starts to loll out of his mouth, practically salivating at the display before him. he’s never seen something so beautiful in his entire life, and his cock throbs from where it sits half-way out of his underwear. a blurt of pre-cum spills from the tip and you grin lazily.

“and here i thought i was the only one who was wet... but you’re dripping over there, baby,” you breathe. your voice is pitched up just a little, head tilting back. you miss the way jeno’s eyes flutter shut at your words, embarrassment flooding his bones.

“can i add another finger?”

you nod at his question, praising him for being so good, remembering to ask before doing. you’ve taught him so well, how to be the best boy be can be, and jeno beams under it. he takes the permission granted to him and slips his ringer finger in next, scissoring them wide.

a whine falls from your lips, legs spreading wider as you clench around the digits. “fuck, that’s so good,” you moan, eyes moving to lock on jeno’s. you grin again, teeth on display and jeno whimpers, kissing your bent knee. moving your foot, you press it up against jeno’s cock, biting your lip in satisfaction when jeno’s hips jolt.

“hurry up, puppy. get mommy ready for your big cock so you can fuck her nice and good.”

jeno doesn’t need to be told twice, fingers beginning to speed up after adding a third, pumping in and out of you. you moan louder, head falling back against the mattress. the coil in your abdomen tightens, spring loaded and ready to snap when jeno’s thumb speeds up its circles on your bud. your hips buck up, whines falling from your mouth as you get closer and closer, falling from the edge when jeno takes initiative and gives you that fourth finger, cupping your pussy as he stretches you wide and makes you cum.

it’s with soft whines and pretty cries that you cum, back arched taut like a bowstring and jeno thinks he could cum untouched, just from the sight alone. he has, if he remembers correctly. but not right now. right now, jeno needs to be inside you.

without even thinking, jeno’s quick to pull his hands away, shoving his pants and briefs down enough for his cock to fall out, heavy and thick between his legs.

your eyes are hazy as you look up at him, still coming around from your orgasm when jeno shoves his length into you. your eyes widen, mouth falling open as he starts to thrust, eyes watering from the stretch. “f-fuck!” you cry, back arching again. it burns, but you’re too preoccupied with the pleasure that builds behind your belly button again.

four fingers are never enough when it comes to stretching you out, another reason why you prefer to fuck him, and not the other way around. that, and every time jeno gets his cock in you, it goes like this.

the boy between your legs is practically jackhammering into you, hips moving like a piston into you over and over again. his eyes are closed and his tongue hangs from his mouth, drool coating his chin. his eyes open and close, looking down at you. jeno’s so far into his own headspace, there’s nothing in his eyes but desire and a need to breed you.

“j-jen... puppy, you’ve gotta slow d-down—oh, my god...” you try, hand moving to press against his tummy. it’s damp with sweat, tensing over and over from a mix of exertion and undying pleasure. jeno, despite your pleas, shows no sign of slowing. it feels like he begins to move even faster, balls slapping against against you.

the room is filled with the sound of skin against skin, your pussy squelching loudly as it tries to adjust to jeno’s width.

he stops for a moment, moving the two of you around. jeno moves with your legs tossed over his forearms, pulling you closer and up into his lap. with your feet up in the air, you feel a little burn of shame, not used to being manhandled in this way, though you know in the back of your mind you could easily take back control if needed.

jeno seems to only get rougher, pushing back into with a one-track mind. you know that look when he looks at you again. he wants to cum inside you.

“no,” you warn, hand tangling into his hair and pulling roughly.

jeno leans forward with a cry, face burying itself in your chest, knees pressing to your chest. you groan with the stretch in your thighs and waist, but shake it off, pushing it to the back of your head when you feel soft lips pressing against the base of your throat. teeth scrape across your skin, biting down.

with your legs locked up between your bodies, you have no way of pushing jeno away. it’s not that you don’t want him to cum inside, you do. it’s just... he doesn’t deserve it for the way he broke your rules.

“m-mommy!” jeno’s voice is high pitched, breaking on the end as his thrusts slow, but grow rougher. you can feel the slick between your legs, spilling down over your ass and onto the blankets beneath you. “so g-good... wanna breed you...”

your mouth opens when jeno readjusts, cock pressing up against your walls in the best way possible, pressing up against your sweet spot every single time. your toes curl where they’re propped up in the air, your boyfriend’s body preventing you from lowering them. a cramp starts to pull somewhere in your left thigh, and you contemplate telling jeno as much but when he cries out into your chest, you don’t have it in you to stop him.

“you better pull out, mutt!” you warn him, fingers wrapping around broad shoulders and digging into his skin. pretty crescent moon shapes litter his back, deep, red scratching lining his tanned skin.

your words seem to only spur jeno on, hips picking up pace as he becomes focused on only his pleasure.

“stupid dog,” is all you’re able to get out before jeno’s hips are stuttering, cock bottoming out. the tip kisses your cervix, cum painting your walls, and your own body convulses at the feeling. you moan into the air of your bedroom, pulling jeno even closer. your tummy bulges with his cock, and jeno just has to press a clammy hand against it.

jeno stays buried deep inside you for a moment, catching his breath. he’s hiccupping a little as he tries to come back to earth from whatever pleasure-induced cloud he’d been on. your fingers move to bring jeno’s face to yours, lips pressing against one another. jeno’s tongue finds refuge against your own, and you moan into his mouth. it’s sloppy and messy, the total opposite of the jeno everyone else gets to see and it makes you clench around his softening cock.

when he pulls away, you hum, taking in the sight before you. jeno’s eyes are wide, pupils blown as he regards you like you’re the only source of water for miles and he hasn’t had a drop in days. his tongue hangs out of his mouth, panting like a dog, and his chin is covered in drool. your fingers work to clean his face, wiping against the bedsheets once you’ve done your best to work the spit away.

you gasp as jeno’s cock slips free, soft between his legs.

“hi, baby,” you whisper, a grin on your lips as you work him back to you. “can you speak yet?”

jeno swallows, eyes blinking slowly as his mouth works to form words.

“shh... you don’t have to try if you can’t. just nod if you’re feeling good enough to keep going.”

the boy between your legs keens softly, nodding a soft yes. you card your fingers through sweat-dampened hair, cooing gently, trying to show as much affection to the boy as you can before you’re yanking on the strands, growling under your breath.

jeno whines in pain, but you can feel his dick twitching against your ass.

“stupid fucking dog. you can’t listen, can you?” your voice is biting, though you mean no malice. “first, you think of only yourself when i so graciously let you fuck me. remember last time, mutt? remember why mommy hasn’t let you fuck her in months? because you do shit like this.” with another tug, jeno’s groaning, mouth opening again. your free fingers work into his pretty, swollen mouth, pressing down on his tongue. your thumb hooks under his jaw, in the divot behind his chin. forcing his mouth open, you maneuver his head so he’s unable to look anywhere but you. “and then, to make it worse, mommy told you not to cum inside her. but what do you do? you cum inside her like a stupid mutt. do you know what will happen if mommy gets pregnant?”

jeno’s eyes are filling with tears, and for a moment you become worried, but you know jeno’s smart enough to use his safe word. he has before, even when he’s gone so far into his puppy space that he’s gotten nonverbal.

“if mommy gets pregnant with your puppies,” you whisper, bringing him in close. he swallows as best as he can around your fingers. “then mommy can’t fuck you like the stupid bitch you are. and you will never get to come close to my pussy. do you understand me, mutt?”

the boy trapped between your legs nods quickly, drool spilling from around your fingers once more. you hum, digging a heel into jeno’s lower back before releasing him. jeno slumps against your chest once your legs are free as well, and your fingers move from his mouth to pet through his locks again.

“you’re lucky you’re so cute, nono.” your voice is breathy, a soft giggle in it somewhere as jeno rests his chin on your chest, looking up at you with big eyes. “god, i can’t even be mad at you.” you’re pouting down at him, moving to adjust your position. turning around, you rest up against the headboard, legs spread wide. jeno’s cum drips from your fluttering walls, between your cheek, and onto the bed sheet beneath you.

“if you wanna make it up to me, you’ll come over here and use that pretty mouth of yours to make me cum.”

jeno’s eyes light up once more and he’s immediately crawling between your legs, ready to give you the world and then some.

[hyunjilicious]

fwb [s. stan/c. evans/h.cavill]

A/n: DO NOT ask me why I wrote this. I have no idea why I did this to myself, but I thought I’d share anyway!

Summary: no matter how you put it, a catching feelings while you’re in a fwb relationship isn’t good! (SMUT, FLUFF, angst?) 9.2k

Warnings: threesome, dirty talk, unprotected sex, spanking, slapping, daddy kink, size kink, degradation, humiliation, oral, pain kink (+/- some dubcon), submission, cum play... issa lot ok? don’t read if any of these make you uncomfortable!! 18+ 

This is a standalone fic, and not part of any series. However, come talk to me about it, please!! Tell me what you thought!! And don’t forget to reblog in case you enjoyed it!!

"Last question-" the interviewer announced. She turned around the papers in her lap and placed them to the side, before she intertwined her fingers and looked up at you with a devious grin on her lips. "I have to ask this, Y/n. We all need to know, who's your favorite? Superman or Captain America?"

Of course you couldn't help but chuckle, shaking your head at the question she came up with. It was fair to assume you hadn't been asked this before for the sole purpose of avoiding a scene, but the lady standing in front of you seemed overly pleased with herself. Unlike Henry and Chris, who were seated on either side of you. Even if you didn't actually turn to look at them, you could feel their glares throw daggers. Anticipation floated in the room, and judging by the way they just softly chuckled or refrained from making any kind of comment, you knew how anxiously they were awaiting your answer.

"I-" you said, before bursting into laughter.

"Even I would choose Superman," Chris joined in, placing a hand on his chest for emphasis. "Dude's got X-ray vision. He's faster than light, he can fly. He's the real deal" he raised his palms, ready to accept his defeat.

"See-?" Henry butted in, and you giggled, more to yourself, at the game they started playing. You knew very well it was nothing but a big, fat, obvious trap. "Superman's got all of those, but Captain America still manages to save the world time and time again, without superpowers. I think that makes him greater"

Oh, how screwed you were.

"So, Y/n?" the interviewer pushed, ever so obviously satisfied with the tension she created, "Who will it be? Steve or Clark?"

In turn, you looked at both of them. Henry was smiling his ass off, waiting for you to say the wrong name, while Chris seemed to be lost in thought.

"Ugh, ok" you took a deep breath, and glanced into the camera, "I'm sorry, but I'm Team Cap. I gotta be."

Whereas Henry accepted the defeat with stride and sweetly mentioned he couldn't ever blame you for choosing Captain America, Chris was ecstatic. He didn't even try to hide his excitement, the chair nearly breaking under his energetic jolts of pride. 

After a few more unimportant comments were made, the interview ended and the lights were turned off. You all hopped off your seats and walked over to the buffet table, your conversation still going strong.

"Really, Y/n? Cap?" Henry taunted, his voice low and mocking, right against your ear lobe as you popped a cheese stick into your mouth. "This guy? Why did you have to do me like that, hm?"

Henry placed the tip of his finger under your chin and elegantly prompted you to look up at him. 

"I don't know, man" Chris laughed from somewhere behind you, "I think I own fair and square, Cap is just the better superhero"

Henry scowled, glancing at the blonde, over your shoulder. His ice cold eyes made the salty treat get lodged in your throat, and you had to pull away from him in order not to actually choke. "Relax-" you said, raising your hands in defeat as you started walking towards the door, "It's not like I chose between the two of you. That would've been a whole other deal"

"Wait what-?" Chris deadpanned, "What does that mean?" He added, hurrying to follow you and ask for further details.

Needless to say, the subject wasn't dropped until quite a while later. People swarmed you, papers had to be signed and pictures were taken as the employers from all levels of the building gathered outside your dressing room hoping to meet some of their favorite superheroes. It was all a buzz and about 2 hours later, the three of you were finally able to leave, making a beeline from the back door of the building, all the way over to the car that was waiting for you.

You ended up on the backseat, again between them, but this time the atmosphere was relaxed. Your blood only started to boil when Henry asked for the partition to be rolled up. As soon as the space inside the car was divided and you were given your privacy, Henry grabbed your chin and forced you to face him.

"Think I forgot about earlier?" he questioned, his devious grin wide enough so that his perfect teeth became visible. 

You giggled and forced yourself out of his hold. Shuffling around the seat, you threw one leg over his thighs and sat down in his lap. Henry looked you up and down, remotely displeased with your attitude but he didn't complain.

You grabbed his cheeks into your palms and pushed yourself up against him, his face now inches away from your chest. "And what are you gonna go?"

He wasn't about to let his guard down, "You're acting all bratty now, but you'll regret that later, baby"

"I doubt that" you teased, bending down to tenderly kiss his sweet lips, "What could you possibly do that I won't like?"

"Wish you hadn't asked that" Henry laughed, his whole frame shaking against yours. He grabbed your ass and squeezed harshly, pressing you closer to him.

"I'm scared" you joked, trailing your lips along his cheeks, knowing just how crazy you could make him. 

"Y/n" Chris warned, "Today I'm on your side, but even I can tell you're pushing your luck"

Even if he didn't necessarily manage to deflate your attitude, you plopped down from Henry's lap and resumed your spot between them. The atmosphere didn't get any denser and the topic of conversation swiftly shifted to rudimentary randomness like what food should you order once you got home or whatever plans either of you had for that night. You subtly avoided the word 'date' when you told them you'd be meeting with a friend, and breathed out relieved when they didn't pressure you for details. That was a conversation to be had between 4 walls and with no prying ears.

Once home, your home - they came over, you casually opened the door and meant to make your way inside as if nothing was wrong, but Henry, just as previously stated, had other plans.

Securing a strong hold around your way smaller frame, he lovingly leaned down over your shoulder, "How are you doing, love?" he nonchalantly asked.

His scent overwhelmed your senses, and despite knowing where this was going, you tried to play it off. "Good, you?" you smiled, sinking into his arms.

"We need to talk"

"Do we?" you laughed, but managed to do absolutely nothing in terms of impressing him.

You knew just how much he loved it when you asked for it, and this was not something he'd ever let slide. "Come with me, darling," Henry cooed, gently guiding you into the bedroom.

You followed him without showing any kind of resistance, turning around in his hold and wrapping your arms around his neck. You stumbled backwards down the hallway, sloppily kissing his lips.

Much to your surprise, he was more than eager to reciprocate, his palms burning through the soft material of clothing that covered your sides. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with so much fervor, as if he had been deprived for too long. 

Henry clumsily opened the bedroom door, stumbling forward with you against him, until he reached the bed. Considering how weak you were for him and how you always allowed yourself to get molded by his will, when he pushed you back against the bed, you fell with a small huff and remained there, only your eyes following him.

"What are you doing?" you asked, seeing him open your closet and actually step inside to look behind the corner.

Before he even started to answer your question, Chris walked into the room. He was casually undoing the buttons of his shirt as he strolled past the bed.

"Hi-" you giggled, extending your hands towards him. All you wanted was some attention.

"Hi, baby" Chris laughed, bending down to kiss your forehead. "You're gonna be good for us, ok? I don't wanna have to go to hard on you"

"Then don't" you pouted.

"That's only up to you" he added, straightening his back and finishing up on undoing his buttons. His tattooed chest became visible and your mouth watered in an instant. 

Burning from the inside with anticipation and pure lust, you fell back against the cushions, your thighs uselessly trying to alleviate some of the pain between your legs. But no amount of rubbing and friction would ever match up to the tension in the room, and you loved it.

A couple of moments later, Henry walked out of his closet, dressed exactly the same, clutching tight into his hands the famous superman costume. None of you has ever been too shy when it came to exploring new kinks and desires, but this, you did not see coming.

Your mouth fell open, "Really!?" you almost drooled, but he has probably never been any quicker to burst your bubble.

Staring you down, Henry clutched his fingers into the material of his suit, bringing his hands together in front of his chest, before tearing the material apart with a loud screech. He lightly huffed with the effort, but soon enough, the actual costume fell to the floor by his feet, while the red cape remained neatly wrapped around his fists.

Your eyes widened with enthusiasm and you wanted to shuffle closer to him, but once you pushed yourself up on your knees, you felt a tight grip around your forearms.

Chris pulled you back with force, "Arms up, darling" he chuckled. He didn't even give you a chance to follow his directions, as he yanked your top over your head in an instant and unclasped your bra before leaving your top half completely naked and exposed.

As he plopped down on the bed, Henry came up to you and forced your hands up, using his cape to tie your wrists to the bedpost. His face was hovering inches above yours, and you licked your lips before pushing yourself up to kiss his jawline.

"The hell's gotten into you, hm?" he groaned, tightening the knot. When he looked down, he seemed amused, kind of at the edge between disbelief and satisfaction, as if he actually wished you'd push his buttons. As if he was waiting for you to dig your own grave. "You aren't usually like this"

"Had a great day, that's all" you grinned as you literally met with the two of them approximately half an hour after you woke up. "Ready for it to get better"

"Is it, though-?" Chris laughed, fumbling with the button of your jeans before pulling them down your legs. Off with them also went your underwear, and then there you were, completely naked in front of them, hands tied above your head. "-going to get better, I mean" Chris added, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.

"I think-" you began answering but Henry stopped you as he gripped your chin.

"Stop talking back, love" he threatened, "Don't you think you said enough today? Look where it's gotten you"

You studied his expression with big, curious eyes, your bottom lip consciously trembling as you muttered a soft excuse. You knew not taking him seriously would get you into even more trouble, but that's what you were all about.

Henry chuckled. Keeping his glare trained on yours he pushed himself up. His big hands found your thighs and forced your legs apart. 

With this new, sudden change in position, your eyes landed on Chris who looked down at you as if you were his prey. He had a bottle of beer in his hand, taking small sips as he stood back, allowing Henry to do his part. Even if he wasn't yet taking part first hand in this whole charade, he was ever so obviously still enjoying the show. 

You squirmed under their dominating stares, feeling every inch of your body burn with excitement and traces of actual embarrassment that did absolutely nothing other than turn you on even further.

"You know you fucked up, right?" Chris taunted before taking another sip of his beer. His hand reached to cup your thigh, moving it further up until his fingers got dangerously close to your bare pussy. "I mean you're all good in my book, but that's not how things work"

"It could be" you whined.

By now, it should have been clear that talking back was never an option. Chris just smiled sympathetically while Henry clearly showed he wasn't going to have you keep this attitude much longer. He shuffled to the side, responding to your comment with a sharp slap against your bare cunt. "What did you just say?"

The impact made you instinctively gather your legs together but he was quick to stop you. Henry forced your thighs apart again, his thick fingers pushing past your folds just enough to get you to get on alert. 

Your eyes snapped to Chris. You never thought of things like this, but just about now, having him on your side seemed like the best idea. Your stomach was tightening from the nerves building up inside your core and you needed his reassurance. 

"I'm sorry, doll-" he cocked his head to the side as you watched him, your eyes begging him to stand with you, "You know I'm always here for you, but breaking you is just too much fun, I'm sorry"

"Asshole" you rolled your eyes and regretted it even before Henry delivered another slap against your clit. You cried out and your muscles clenched against your will, your knees bending in a pathetic attempt to curl yourself into a ball.

"Come on, darling" Henry scoffed, easily handling your tantrum and forcing your legs back down, wide open for them. "You're only making this harder. Calm down, take your punishment and then maybe you'll get something in return"

"Ok-" you muttered, shame taking over your senses. 

"Ok, what?" Henry pushed and Chris shook his head in disbelief at how unwilling you were to follow your usual instructions.

"Ok, daddy-" you muttered, avoiding their eyes, "I'm sorry I-"

"Little girl-" Henry sighed, sinking two fingers into your dripping pussy, "Already apologising? Where did that attitude go? Your punishment didn't even start yet"

"Fuck" you cried.

Despite knowing it wasn't a good idea, you rocked your hips along his fingers. Deciding to let you play along, Henry pressed his thumb against your clit, applying that minimal amount of pleasure he knew would have you hollering. 

And when you moaned for the first time, he stopped. He stopped completely and retracted his hand, leaving you craving his touch. Again, you felt exposed and it only translated into a painful sensation deep inside your belly. 

Arching your back as a whine escaped your lips, you squeezed your eyes shut, "Come on!! Please-"

"Not yet, angel" Henry countered, spreading your legs again.

As he held one of your thighs, Chris grabbed the other one, both their hands gripping your flesh hard enough to bruise. You already whimpered in pain, but when the real round of slapping began you felt like your throat would eventually cave.

"Cry if you have to, angel. Just be a good girl" Henry taunted.

You struggled against their hold with each blow delivered to your sensitive pussy, crying out and begging for them to stop. You never did try to count, so you had no idea how long it took, as when he stopped, you fell down into the mattress, the pain dissipating into a burning sensation across your legs.

"Easy there-" Henry cooed, his big hand cupping your cunt, gently rubbing the sensitive skin he had just abused.

Tears rolled down your temples as you failed to calm down your breathing. "Fuck, ok, I get it-" you sniffled, turning your head around to hide your face into your shoulder, "I'm sorry, please. I'm sorry"

"Look at me, pet" Henry commanded, softly guiding your chin in order to uncover your face, "Don't hide from us. You're so beautiful crying like that, you have no idea"

A new fresh wave of tears streamed from your eyes, "Th-thank you..."

Ever so softly, Chris moved your thighs, separating them again. He kneeled between your legs, lowering himself until you could feel his breath against your folds. "Breathe, pet-" he cooed, pressing a lingering kiss to your clit.

Involuntarily, you flinched, your hips bucking. "Easy, baby-" Chris said barely above a whisper, placing a hand on your tummy to push you back down, "Relax for me, ok?" 

He swiped his tongue along your folds, forcing you to suck a deep breath, "You good?" Henry asked, his hand exploring your naked chest.

You nodded up at him.

"We barely started, ok?" Chris said, pushing himself up, "You'll be a good girl for us?"

"Yes" you nodded with eagerness.

"Full sentences-" Henry nudged, lovingly caressing your abdomen, "I know it can be a lot for you, take your time"

You swallowed deeply, "Yes.. yes, I will be a good girl for you"

"Good" he cooed, leaning down. You pushed yourself up to meet his lips, but he stopped midway, tapping your chin, "Open up, baby"

Slowly, your jaw lowered, as you stared up at him, big awaiting eyes and mouth wide open.

And he made you wait, finally sending you a lewd grin before spitting on your tongue. You felt it dribble down towards the back of your throat before you swallowed proudly. You wanted to open your mouth again, but he hurried to distance himself from you.

With a harsh slap against your tits, he pushed himself up. Henry grabbed your thighs, gathering your knees together. He pulled your legs up until your hips lifted from the bed and your upper back supported most of your weight, your knees close to your chest.

"Such a beautiful pussy" Chris chimed in, his face inches away from your opening.

Never in your life had you felt this exposed and humiliated, but you swallowed your pride and remained motionless, not wanting to get on their bad side again.

"Are you ready?" Henry asked.

"For- for what?" you panicked.

"Wrong answer" he scoffed, slapping your ass. You yelped in pain and wiggled in his hold, but he didn't stop. He spanked your ass again, and again, and again, his palm hitting the bare skin off your cheeks, pussy and asshole. "Try again, little girl."

"I- I'm… I'm ready" 

"See?" Chris beamed, spitting on your pussy. You felt it run down your folds until it reached your ass. "That's the kind of slut we want. One that says yes without even knowing what we're talking about"

"Come on" Henry huffed, slapping your cunt one more time before letting your body back down on the mattress again. He moved up along your frame and undid your hands. 

You were eager to relax your shoulders and to feel the blood flow through your arms again, but as soon as he released you from the bedpost, he brought your wrists together, tying them up again. "I wish I didn't have to keep you restrained like this, but how can I know what goes through that dumb little head of yours?"

You shook your head no, trying to tell him you were actually planning on doing anything stupid, but Chris understood something else completely.

"Nothing goes through that pretty head?" he laughed, and Henry couldn't help but chuckle along.

Embarrassed, you hid your face and looked down.

"Don't be like that, baby-" Chris added, bending down over your body to caress your cheek, "You know we're right. You don't need to be ashamed, we like you like this"

His thumb rubbed along your bottom lip before he leaned down all the way and kissed you. His tongue barged into your mouth, dominating you completely as you barely managed to keep up with him. "A dumb little slut, crying for cock. That's what you are, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy"

"Then why did you hide your face?"

"I- I don't know…" you mumbled.

"You know we keep you around just to fuck you, so I don't see why you'd get shy all of a sudden"

"I'm sorry-" you nodded, licking your lips, uselessly trying to moisten them. "I didn't get shy, I-"

"So you like being our fuck slut?"

"Yes"

"Just a set of holes for me and Cavill over here to cum in, right?" he questioned, before kissing your forehead. "Our beautiful, little girl" You smiled at the pet name and looked up expectantly. His gaze lowered and his expression became stern again. "Get on all fours, darling. Time to make yourself useful"

With every movement of your legs, your cunt ached more and more, but you followed his command and pushed yourself up. Once on your hands and knees, you saw them get into position too. Chris crawled behind you as Henry settled before you, his crotch inches away from your face.

Your mouth watered as you heard their zippers being undone, and looked at them in turn, unable to hide your enthusiasm. 

At this point, you were eager for whatever they'd throw at you. Being in that mind state always made everything better. You existed in a haze, a world of blur where it was just you and your daddys. You wiggled your ass expectantly and licked your lips with absolutely no worry. In your head it was perfect.

Your bubble was burst by a harsh tug at the roots of your hair as Henry turned your head so you'd look up at him. He fumbled with his cock, giving himself a few pumps.

Just watching him with big, excited eyes, you opened your mouth for him. He chuckled at your state of pure submission and placed his leaking tip on your tongue, your lips instantly closing around him.

At this point, he still allowed you to control your own movements as you did a satisfying enough job at bobbing your head on his cock. You sucked with determination, hollowing your cheeks and taking him as deep as you could without gagging.

Your exquisite performance was interrupted when you felt something big and round trail along your folds, your eyes snapping wide open when you felt it enter you. Chris pushed his cock in with a satisfying grunt, slapping your ass in the process.

"Fuck, yes!" he exclaimed, his massive member spreading your walls apart.

A lump formed in the back of your throat, the feeling of being filled to the prim, overwhelming you. You were aware your rigorous sucking turned into a pathetic excuse as soon as Chris started rocking your body back and forth along his dick, as now, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get your mind to focus.

Seemingly not at all bothered by your suddenly sloppy blow job performance, Henry tightened his hold around your roots, keeping your head in place as he started fucking your mouth.

The simple fact that at this point, all you had to do was stay there and take it, made it close to impossible to not lose yourself. As Chris picked up his pace, using your hips and maneuvering your body to fit his needs the right way, your pleasure started building up in the pit of your stomach.

"Come on, baby-" Henry called, "Ready to take good care of daddy?"

And he asked this just to mock you, as your mouth was full of cock and he wasn't about to let you take a break. You only blinked, hoping to send the message along, despite knowing he wasn't waiting for an answer.

He steadied his hold on your roots and then forced you down his cock, his tip barging in through your neck, completely blocking your air supply. You remained there, not fighting against his hold, as Chris continued slamming his cock balls deep into your pussy.

The momentum of his thrusts pushed you forward, the ever so soft movement of your neck making Henry grunt with pleasure every time your body rocked into him. And they kept going, using you from both angles to fit their desires.

When it got too much, you felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes as you saw no way out. You whined against his cock, your throat violently constricting in hopes of getting some air.

"A bit more" Henry cooed, maintaining his hold as you squirmed against it.

"Holy fuck-" Chris belted, both his palms relasing your hips only to be able to slap your ass harshly. "That's right, clench that pussy. Should fucking choke you more often when you're on my dick"

All you could do was whimper, forcing yourself to hold back cough after cough until you could no more. Tears streamed down your face as you started panicking, only then having Henry release you from his grip.

If he hadn't actually maintained his hold, you'd have crumbled into the mattress, a choking mess between their massive bodies. But Henry held on to you, pulling you up as Chris lowered his pace.

"Do you know how good you are, angel?" he asked, his thick British accent rolling off his tongue as exhaustion built up in his veins. 

You nodded weakly, and smiled with awe when he wiped your tears away with his thumb.

"I'd keep this mouth on my cock all the damn time if I could-" Henry added, his tone deep and loving despite the condescending note of his words. "Are you ready to go again?"

You whimpered a soft, "Yes-" voice so whiny that if you weren't so deep into sub space, you'd have cringed hearing yourself. "Please..."

Chris bent down over you, his sweaty chest pressing against your back as he wrapped his arms around your frame, his greedy hands coming to cup either of your breasts. He buried his face into your neck and then kissed along your shoulders. "Are you close, baby girl?" he asked, burying his cock deeper inside your belly, "You wanna cum on my cock?"

As you breathed out, you nodded a weak yes. A smile instantly reached the corners of your mouth as Chris found your clit. He rubbed slow, intricate circles around it, your pleasure translating into sobbing moans. "Now take Henry's cock inside that little mouth of yours, and when you're getting close, you give me a sign, yeah?"

"Ok" you panted, curious about what he must have had planned.

The curiosity swiftly left your mind as your eyes landed on Henry's dick again. He was close too, the amount of precum leaking out of his tip, giving away that fact. He allowed some of it to dribble onto your chin, lightly slapping your face before popping your mouth open.

Pressing your tongue flush against the underside of his cock, you fervently sucked away as Chris started picking up his pace again. As if you weren't already close to losing any kind of self control, the painful slaps he inflicted upon your ass drove you over the edge.

You maniacally wiggled your feet against the messy blankets, giving Chris the promised signal. 

Or at least you thought you gave it to him, as the next thing you felt was being pushed down along Henry's cock again. You took him deep down along your throat, moaning loudly against his member as an orgasm overwhelmed you. Tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks as your body convulsed between them.

The sensation made your chest tighten and the lack of air started getting you dizzy. The electrifying feeling pulsed along your limbs, engulfing your middle in a sea of liquid fire. You didn't even feel the need to breathe as your mind rolled down a spiral of bliss. A whole white blur covered you as your brain stopped processing the information, too keen on sucking every last drop of pleasure from the orgasm you just received.

You were only pulled out of this trance when Henry pushed you off his cock, reality hitting you like ice cold water. You gasped for air, falling face first into the mattress, struggling to even breathe. 

Not that you cared at that point, but neither of them asked you to resume your position. Instead, they shuffled off the bed, and with a soft slap against your raised ass, called for your attention.

"Come here, little girl" Chris demanded.

That was not the kind of information you were able to process, so again, they had to do all the work. With a harsh grip on your upper arms, they effortlessly grabbed you and forced you to your knees between them. 

You looked up with what was probably the most obedient stare you had ever given them. You had two massive cocks hanging inches away from your face, and of course, your first instinct was to grab them as you popped your tongue out.

"No, kitten-" Henry laughed, petting your head and softly pushing you back. "Stay still"

And you did. Took a deep breath, finally feeling the engines inside your brain resuming their work. All your senses came back to you and it was as if you had been in a dream. Still, the excitement of seeing both Henry and Chris pump their cocks inches away from your face was difficult to contain.

"You swallow all, yeah?" Henry groaned, looking down at you with hooded, hungry eyes. "Don't use your hands. Use that slutty tongue"

Soon, hot cum started erupting from his tip, most of it landing directly into your mouth. Each time you swallowed you bobbed your head, proudly smiling up at them at the great job you were doing. 

"Good girl" he muttered, his voice hoarse and out of tone.

All that changed when Chris grabbed your shoulder. He growled out loud as his orgasm reached him, and he threw his head back, still furiously pumping his cock into his fist.

"Holy mother of - fuck - !"

You did your best to get as much as you could inside your mouth, but your cheeks were a mess, your tongue only managing to spread their cum more than actually lick it off. 

When they were both done, Chris helped you up as Henry kissed your forehead before walking out of the room without another word. The blonde cradled you to his chest, heaving as he held you.

"Such a good, little angel" he whispered into your ear. He was still panting, his hands clammy against your back, but he pushed through, focusing his energy on reassuring and soothing you.

"How are you, baby? Talk to me a bit" Chris pleaded, rubbing your cheek, "I wanna see those eyes"

As if every muscle contraction took up too much energy, you barely managed to look up at him, the most innocent of looks in your eyes. "I'm feeling really good" you sighed, leaning back against his chest.

"Good-" he laughed, his whole frame shaking as he hugged you closer, "Does anything hurt?"

"Everything" you giggled.

"Ok-" he sighed, accepting his defeat, "I'll ask again after we shower. You're all fucked out now"

"I like that" you mumbled as you all but drooled on him, sleep starting to envelop you.

"Would have been worried if you didn't"

Again, despite your direct state, you couldn't help but laugh with him. You softly pushed yourself up to plant a kiss against his naked chest.

Chris rubbed the back of your head as you did so.

"Hey-" Henry called as he walked into the room, but neither you nor Chris bothered to do anything else other than look in his direction. None of you moved. "Just a ran a bath-" Henry added, pointing to the bathroom, "Please don't fall asleep"

Chris helped you up and you wobbled your way across the room. "I'll go downstairs and shower" he said.

"You never wanna join us" you pouted.

"Just not really big on baths, that's all" Chris reassured you and then made his way out of the room.

After that, another wave of bliss followed. Another kind however. Henry washed every inch of your body, his careful hands caressing every dip and curve your frame. His lips were mostly on yours as he did so, never missing a chance to bring you even closer.

"Thank you" you mumbled, leaning against the marble wall as you watched him soap his broad chest.

Henry cluelessly raised his eyebrows, the movement of his hands slowing down as he waited for you to continue.

"For helping me wash up" you smiled, "You always do, but still. Thanks"

"No problem, darling" Henry nodded, gathering you closer again, and kissing your forehead. He got soap all over you again, and didn't even try to hide the fact that he loved having to help you rinse again.

A short while later, probably about 20 minutes or so, it was again the three of you, back in bed. You were laying between them. Judging by the light snores that danced off his lips and the peaceful way his chest rose and fell, Chris must have fallen asleep long before you and Henry finished showering. The sun started descending from the sky and the orange light in the room painted the perfect picture.

You cuddled into Henry's side, feeling your heart tickle the inside of your chest when he reciprocated the gesture. His warm breath graced the skin of your forehead as he gave you a longing kiss, barely even bothering to pull back before settling for a deep sleep.

You drifted off, content and with a smile on your lips, elated with what the day brought so far, and bubbling with anticipation for whatever surprises it might still have hidden.

By the time you woke up, fully rested, the sun was already sinking low behind the horizon, a red, tainted sky following in its footsteps. Extracting yourself from Henry's bear hold turned out to be much more than you expected, his reluctance to let you go, even in his sleep, making you giggle.

"How are you, sweetheart?" Chris asked, his voice a fresh tingle to your ears.

"Good-" you sighed, settling to lay down just a bit more. You kissed Henry's bicep as it spawned all across your chest, action which made him pull you even closer. "What time is it?"

"A bit past 6" Chris answered, rolling onto his side to face you. His shoulders slumped together making his chest stand out, but before you got a chance to take in the view, he cluelessly pulled up the covers all the way up to his nose. "Got any plans?"

"Yeah" you nodded, trying Henry's arm again, but he refused to budge once again. "I told you guys"

For a few seconds, Chris looked at you amused, and with a shake of his head, he grabbed Henry's hand, shaking him awake. "Wake up, buddy. Y/n's gotta get ready"

"No" Henry croaked, his light scruff tickling the back of your neck. 

To be fair, you were excited for your plans, but in a way, your heart broke thinking about leaving that bed. Eventually you did, the cold of the room clinging to your body in an instant.

You shivered your way to the bathroom, quickly washing up before returning to the bedroom. The scenery hadn't changed at all, the two men still lingering at the edge between dream and reality, their phone screens perfectly accentuating their lazy expressions.

Swiftly making your way past the bed, you slapped the light switch on, the warm light of your candelabra flooding room, much to their simultaneous dismay. "Why- just no, turn it off-"

"Yeah, sure-" you sarcastically responded, stepping past the ruined superman costume on the floor, and opening the closet doors. You grabbed a pair of underwear and stepped inside it, before rummaging for your favorite bra. "I'll just get ready in a pitch black room. Of course"

None of them was impressed.

"Who are you seeing anyway?" Chris questioned. 

You smiled innocently despite doing your best not to, and then turned to face them. "Sebastian"

"What" Henry gawked, sitting up in an instant, his frown taking over the previous sweetness of his features.

"What do you mean what?" 

"Yeah, haven't you two-" Chris began speaking but Henry cut him off with absolutely no remorse.

"You haven't seen each other in two weeks. I thought that was done for"

As you finally found your bra, you slipped your arms under its straps and pulled them up your shoulders. "We haven't seen each other because he's been visiting his family. We kept talking"

"Talking?" Henry raised an eyebrow. 

"Yeah we-" you sighed and then stopped. "Why are you acting like this? This is nothing new"

"I just-" Henry tripped over his words, shaking his head at the awkwardness he brought to the table. "I don't know, I'm sorry. I just didn't know it was that serious yet, that's all"

"It's not" you said, walking over to your makeup table and sitting down on the small, velvet chair. "We wouldn't be here if it was, would we?"

"I don't know, hun" Chris huffed, lazily slipping out of the bed. The way he walked made it look as if every muscle contraction pained him, leaning from side to side as he close to crawled his way to the bathroom. 

In the process, you caught sight of his naked body in the reflection in your mirror, catching everything from his tattooed chest, to his massive thighs and still impressive cock.

"He's a great guy. I hope things work out if you decide he's the one for you"

"Is he?" Henry chirped, making you turn to him, a thick layer of concealer that still had to be blended, smudged under your eyes.

"We said we're taking things slow, you know this" you sighed, waving your brush around, "We're not exclusive. We're not a couple. We're just- I don't know, dipping our toes. We don't wanna fuck this up."

"Then why are you here with us?"

Perhaps the words slipped past Henry's lips a bit too harshly. You did not expect that. Not from him.

"Uh-" you muttered, feeling cornered, "Listen, he's just one of my best friends. And I really like him, I never lied to him. He knows about you two. We're just-" and then you stopped again, dropping your sentence as your brows furrowed above a pointed look. "Since we started this thing, you both have slept with other people and I never said anything about it. But now that I actually find someone I like, you act like I've committed a crime. Why are you allowed to-"

"Ok, I'm sorry" Henry jumped to stop you, clumsily leaving the bed and padding over to you. "That was incredibly rude of me, I'm sorry"

"What's up?" you asked sweetly, dearly wanting to help ease the pain that upclose was so clearly visible behind his sad, blue eyes. 

And he hesitated, his eyes snapping to the window behind you before he licked his lips. "I just got comfortable, that's all. I care about you a lot, and I'll miss your sweet little body but if he makes you happy, I'll happily trade our encounters for... coffee dates?"

"Thank you, Henry-" you giggled, warming up at his sudden and sincere confession.

He kissed your forehead, the epitome of love gestures. His lips quivered, and brushed against your skin a few times before allowing you to finish getting ready.

Time had flown unreasonably fast, and in a matter of seconds, you found yourself running around the room, blazing through the last steps of your process, despite it not being neither tedious nor elaborated. To be fair, Sebastian was the only man in your life who you never tried to impress with your looks.

You felt appreciated and understood in his presence. He smiled when you talked and pecked your lips every chance he got. He was your friend before anything else, and regardless of the harsh reality you lived in, the status of your relationship changing was what you craved the most. He made you open up without even trying, his sense of stability and unconditional acceptance making you end up on his doorstep, dressed in just a hoodie and jeans, a bottle of wine in tow, ready to just kick back and feel your ultimate best.

For whatever reason, your heart started banging uncontrollably against your ribcage as soon as you knocked. When you heard the lock turn, your knees weakened.

He sprung the door open, welcoming you with open arms. You just took a step in and threw yourself against his chest, your cheek pressing against his shoulder as he brought you closer.

The fresh smell of his aftershave reached your senses, and you rubbed your nose against his perfectly soft jaw line. "You shaved," you smiled, knowing just how much he hated to do so when it wasn't absolutely necessary. 

"Thought it was about time" Sebastian laughed, his right arm still tight around your back as he leaned to the side to close the door.

You only then realised you didn't even bother to put your bag down, take your shoes off or even say hello before going in for a hug. You felt your cheeks burn at the realisation, but he did not seem to mind at all.

"Come on, make yourself comfortable," Sebastian said, starting to advance further into his apartment. You took off your shoes, and just when you were about to enter the living room, the delicious smell of basil stopped you and made you turn around.

You headed into the kitchen, your eyes landing on his tall frame, his back facing you as he stirred something on the stove. 

"You're cooking?" you asked, whiny with admiration and awe.

"Yes" he beamed, turning around. Only then did you notice what he was wearing. His usual black jeans and socks, but he had ditched his trademark sweaters, opting for an elegant button up instead. The sleeves were rolled up around his elbows, and he rocked a pair of fluffy house slippers, red with blue stripes, not fitting his attire in any way, shape or form.

You placed the wine bottle on the counter, and approached him cautiously. "What- um, what are you making?"

You felt bad, ungrateful and undressed. Where were his pajamas and the take out he always ordered? Did you miss something?

"There's this amazing spaghetti recipe I learned from my mum" he grinned proudly, eyeing the multitude of ingredients laid out all across the table. "It's not traditional or anything. She perfected the recipe over the years and you just have to try it"

"Smells delicious already" you giggled, looking around the kitchen.

The atmosphere was soft and warm, the lights were dimmed and slow blues tunes were playing in the background. It was nothing like you were used to.

You offered to help, but he insisted on finishing up alone. You always washed his dishes because he absolutely hated doing it, and you were also the one who always put his leftovers in the fridge, as he always forgot them on the table, cluelessly letting them spoil. It felt only natural to do so right now, so you made your way to the sink, and waited for the water to heat up.

"Stop" Sebastian laughed, coming up beside you to turn the faucet off. "Just relax for once, please" he begged, his hands on your waist effortlessly turning you around.

Your lower back pressed against the edge of the sink as he caged you in, his eyes warm and ambitious, boring into yours.

"I just want to help" you smiled.

"Not now" he shook his head, "We'll clean up later. Or tomorrow"

His words caused a lump to grow inside your throat, your lips involuntarily parting in surprise. You never spent the night at his apartment, and fervid anticipation started to surge through you.

"What’s going on?" you asked, cupping his cheek.

Sebastian leaned into your touch, his eyes all but fluttering closed. "Nothing. Why?"

As he spoke, he grabbed your wrist into his hand and brought your palm to his lips, kissing your soft skin as his eyes awaited your answer.

"I don't know…" you mumbled, feeling yourself melt. He was too close, too attentive and too focused on you, it felt so difficult to breathe. "Don't get me wrong, please. I absolutely love everything you did. But this is new. We never did anything like this before, what changed?"

"Is it bad?" he cautiously asked, planting his hands on the counter on either side of your hips. "That I want things to change between us?"

Your heart swelled. All the signs pointed in the right direction, but his words still managed to get your adrenaline going. "Change… how?" 

As soon as you spoke, you felt like throwing up. You couldn't help but wonder how dumb could you have been, to ask something like this. As if it wasn't obvious, but your brain was too busy drowning in excitement to actually allow you form any coherent thoughts.

"I mean-" he hesitated, his confidence shaking a bit. He looked to the side, licked his lips and then playfully rolled his eyes as the corners of his lips turned upwards, showing you that perfect smile you loved so much. "While I was visiting my family, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. My mom just couldn’t understand why I didn’t bring you along. I don't just want you for a date a week and a kiss after we drank enough wine. I needed that time apart to gather the courage to make the first step" he confessed. "I really fucking like you. I want all of you"

"Oh-" you froze.

"Please-" Sebastian whispered, gently tilting your chin up. "Tell me now if you want me to back off, because I'm really struggling to not kiss you right now"

As much as you wanted to tell him to do it, you refrained from doing so. Instead, you just grinned up at him, your eyes sparking with lustful temptation. He watched you closely, and when he figured out your play, he shook his head in disbelief for the briefest second. 

Following that, there was no awkwardness left. He engulfed your lips into the most passionate kiss. His tongue pathetically begged for permission, which you didn't hesitate to give. He explored your mouth as if it was the sweetest thing he ever tasted, kissed you deeply, moaning against your lips as his hands hazardously roamed your body. No matter what you did, you felt like you couldn't get close enough. You clung onto him, fisting the delicate material of his shirt into your hands, desperately trying to gather him against you. 

Sebastian was the one to break the moment, grabbing your cheeks as he pulled back. His lips were wet and slightly swollen, as he ruggedly breathed out against your skin. "So?"

"So, what?" you teased.

"Come on" he whined, kissing you again, this time more aggravated and determined. "Can we do this? Do you want it?"

"Are we going all out? Real couple? Exclusive, all strings attached kind of thing?" you beamed with excitement and so did he, hearing you.

"If you want to," Sebastian nodded. "I don't want to pressure you, but I'm crazy about you"

"You're not pressuring me. I adore you, Seb. I'm all yours"

"What did you just say?" he smirked, kissing your lips and moving down along your jawline, "That you're all mine? Pretty sure I've never heard anything more beautiful in my whole life"

"Well, you'd better get used to it" you giggled.

And the goodness kept coming. You ate and god, how grateful were for his mum's recipe, it was simple, delicious and it tasted like home. Sebastian refused to tell you how to make it just so he could be your personal chef and cook it for you any time you wanted.

You cleaned the kitchen together, ate cake until the button of your jeans threatened to burst, and then settled on the couch, drinking red wine while scrolling through Netflix. 

As ethereal as everything was, there was still a weight pressing down on your shoulders. You didn't want your relationship to start with you already hiding things from him, so you decided there was a conversation that really needed to be had.

"Sebastian?" you asked softly, grabbing his upper arm and squeezing lightly in order to get his attention.

"Yes, doll?" he hummed, a little bit distraught, before returning to search through the channels.

"Can you look at me a bit?" you muttered, "I wanna talk to you about something"

It was then he realised you were serious. Without question, he turned the TV off and leaned back on the couch, his slightly concerned eyes studying your features. "Are you ok?"

"Yes" you giggled and he visibly relaxed.

"Did I-"

"You didn't do anything!" you stopped him again, leaning down to kiss his lips. He was happy to reciprocate, but you didn't allow things to escalate. "I want to talk about something, and -" you cringed, your palms watering, "And I totally understand if it'll chance the way you see things"

"What are you talking about?"

He was rubbing your thigh, visibly growing impatient. But he allowed you to speak at your own pace.

"Um… you remember a while ago, I told you I was in that kind of a friends with benefits relationship?"

"Yeah" he nodded, "What about-"

"It is obviously over now that we took things to the next step, but these are my best friends we're talking about here. I just... couldn't help but wonder... I don't know… I feel like it wasn't fair to you.. considering how that went on until very very recently and-"

"Babe?" Sebastian stopped you, his voice soft and eyes even more so, "What are you trying to say? Did you think I'd be mad because you had sex before being in a relationship with me?"

"Huh" you gawked, "When you put it like that, it sounds really fucking stupid"

"I'm sorry, Y/n, but it kind of is" he laughed, shaking his head, "You're a free woman, you can do whatever you want. You don't have to explain yourself to me, especially when it comes to things like this"

"So you.. don't mind me seeing them again? Like friends, of course!"

He frowned a bit, scratching the back of his head. "I trust you, ok? I like to think that you wouldn't have been here with me if you had any feelings for any of them."

"Thank you"

"Come here-" Sebastian urged you, eager to bring you close against his chest again. He rubbed your back and rested his head on top of yours, "I really appreciate you telling me this. It was bugging you, and I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me"

"I was worried it would be sitting in the back of your mind and you would feel uncomfortable bringing it up. I felt like I had to, like I owed you that much since you were so understanding with this thing from the beginning-"

"You don't owe me anything ok? I don't care what you did in the past, that's your business. I care what you do now, here, with me. And I might be blindly in love, but I doubt I have any reasons to worry"

"You really don't" you mumbled, settling into his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, "I'm so happy to be here with you, I don't want anything else"

"Me neither, doll, me neither" he sighed, kissing your temple and bringing you closer.

The night ended relatively early. If you were in love with him at the beginning of the evening, now you were head over heels. You fell asleep cuddling, and you had never felt so loved before. Deep down inside, you regretted not allowing things to escalate, but sleeping with him so soon after your last encounter with Henry and Chris just didn't feel right. And of course he understood. The awe and respect for you was visible in his eyes when you explained what was holding you back. That night you slept better than you had in weeks.

The next morning, you left quite early, both of you having your schedules quite full. When you entered your apartment it was quiet and dark, and you couldn't help but smile bitterly at the memories from the day before.

You made your way to the kitchen, and stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a pink bag and a piece of paper right by its side. It didn't take long until you eyed the donuts inside the bag, but you didn't pay too much attention to them as you picked up the letter beside it and read it over.

"Hey, Y/n,

The reason I wrote you this is because I didn't want to interrupt your date, but this has to be said, you deserve that much. I can't lie and say that last night I didn't stay here until 3am hoping you'd come back. It's awful of me, I know, but I really hoped your date would go horribly wrong and that you'd come home early. It's not that I don't want you to be happy… I just wish it wasn't with him. And again, I can't lie and say that I didn't drop by in the morning. I brought you those donuts you love so much, but you weren't here. It was absolutely unfair of me, I know, but during these last few months, I fell in love with you. I know I should've told you before, and I hope you don't think I'm saying this now to burst your bubble. The reason I'm doing this is because you deserve an explanation. I'm sorry, but I can't be around you right now. I need to get you out of my head, and seeing you now, would only make it more difficult. Please don't reach out, you'll only pull me back in. I love you too much, I need some time away to screw my head back on. I'd be lying if I said I won't be waiting for you. Even if I won't actively/purposely do it, I can't imagine a day when I won't jump if you told me to. Please, don't think I'm doing this to hurt you, you're my favorite person in the whole wide world. I will always love you. I wish you and Sebastian the absolute best. This is difficult for me to say, but I hope he is everything you ever wanted. I hope he'll make you happy and treat you like the angel you are. This isn't goodbye or the end of our friendship, it's just me needing to step back. I wish you the best, god knows you deserve it!

PS: I replaced your superman costume, I know you begged me for weeks to give you one, and I ruined it yesterday. I had a spare one at home, it's on your bed now. I hope you don't mind I took the old one with me… you know? Memories...

All my love,

Your Henry"

[loversandantiheroes]

Okay my whiskey fantasy. It’s a holiday, anniversary, I dunno. But he comes home. You’re in lingerie, teddy, the garter belt, the thigh high tights (I am having an absolute brain fart and can not remember the name), the high heels. you’re cooking him dinner in it. Somethin real texas for dinner. He wants to immediately fuck yiu, BUT NO he has to WAIT bc its dinner time and you worked hard. He’s waiting, and he’s watching you, you’re bending over at the stove, all that. Dinner is served, you —-

You lounge on the table to eat like a decadent and gorgeous pain in the ass, so he can see you’re whole body while he eats, forced to be patient. You’re being an absolute menace. He’s running his mouth the whole time OBVIOUSLY. Then he fucking wrecks you

No Candles Necessary

As I am a bonafide yeehonk foole (and I have the t-shirt to prove it), I could hardly resist this idea. Nonny, I hope like hell I did you proud.💗

Shameless Whiskey/F!Reader smut (18+ and yes that means you), 5.3k+ words (they just wouldn’t shut up), mildly beta’d and lightly edited.

Warnings: established relationship, unsafe food preparation practices, light foodplay (it only goes in appropriate places I swear), egregious dirty talk, improper use of a dining table, Switch!Whiskey returns, Switch!Reader by extension, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, PIV sex, unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I fictionalize), cream pie (bc I’m lazy quite frankly), actual pie (peach!), a little soft schmoop in between the smut just because I can.

Permatag: @missredherring​ @dovesnroses​ @astroboots​ @magpierhymes​ @alienprincesspoop​ @aasimarr​ @maythxthirstbxwithyou​ @recklesswit​

Pedro Permatag: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ (sorry bab, more yeehonk) @corvueros​ @thirstworldproblemss​ @littleferal​ @krissology​ @frannyzooey​ @forallthstarsinthesky​ @princess76179​ @keeper0fthestars​ @venusandromedadjarin​

Cooking your boyfriend a birthday dinner in lingerie is probably not the best idea you've ever had. The man isn’t even home yet to witness the trouble you’ve gone to, still wrapping up a day’s work at HQ after closing out another mission. So you didn’t jump right into cooking in your frillies. No, you did the bulk of the work in sweats and a t-shirt, only stopping to change once you were down to the last stretch and the steaks had come off to rest. You've got sense enough at least to put on an apron, not wanting to risk getting hot grease on the delicate fabric or the vast amounts of bare skin the thing doesn't cover, and while you've already donned the garter belt and stockings you've left your heels up against the island counter so you can slip them on quickly when you hear the door. Still you can't quite help but feel less sexy and more silly as you stand there carving up a pair of garlic butter basted steaks while your forehead prickles with sweat and your ass, covered by neither the teddy or the apron, feels ice cold.

The things I do for love of a goddamn cowboy, you think with a shake of your head. Your whole plan is honestly on the high end of ridiculous. But then Jack is a ridiculous man, and he always seems to drag you headlong into absurdity with him. Some days it's his only saving grace - the boyish playfulness that tempers his arrogance into something charming rather than infuriating. It seems only right to be a little ridiculous for the occasion.

Once the carving’s done you give yourself a second to go over the spread and make sure everything's ready to go. It's early yet, but you're expecting to hear Jack's key in the front door any minute. He's made no mention of returning home early, of course, but he is every bit the sort that would try to surprise you on his birthday, and you’ve developed an uncanny ability to anticipate his moves ahead of time.

As it turns out, you have just enough time to slip on your heels before you hear the front door open and Jack calls out your name. You allow yourself a moment of satisfaction - you do love being right when it comes to this sort of thing - and slip into your heels.

“In here, baby,” you call back, stepping out to lean against the door frame.

“Somethin’ smells like heaven,” Jack says, rounding the corner into the dining room. He stops dead when he gets a look at you, mouth falling open in surprise. He’s hung his hat at the door, his hair already flopping over in a revolt against the slicked-back way he styles it in the morning, his suit jacket still on and buttoned. “Looks like it, too,” he finishes, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin. “I feel overdressed all of a sudden.”

You can’t help but answer that grin. “Happy birthday, cowboy,” you tell him, beckoning him over.

He all but rushes across the room to slide up against you, hands curling around your hips and playing with the tie to the apron. “Sure as hell is now,” he mutters. His palms slide down, cupping your ass to pull you in close. You bite back a hiss at the warmth, and he gives a low approving hum at the expanse of cool, bare skin. “Looks like I don’t even need to unwrap my present.”

“Patience,” you insist, pushing his shoulders back and grazing your lips over the tip of his nose as you evade the kiss he tries to pull you into. “No dessert until after dinner.”

“Dinner can wait-”

“No it cannot. I did not just spend the afternoon trying to keep hot butter off my tits so you could get impatient and let your supper get cold.” He traces a finger across your cleavage as you talk, tugging at the top of the apron to get a better look at the skin underneath. You feel the quip coming before he even opens his mouth, so you take the opportunity to give him a little push and show him just what he’s in for tonight. You bring up your hand, fingers curling under his wrist, turning his hand away and using it to pull him flush to you, the line of your thigh landing against the covered denim crotch of his jeans with just enough force to make him jolt.

“Be a good boy, Jack,” you say against his open, breathless mouth, “or you won’t get any dessert at all.”

Whiskey pouts, but his eyes have that dark glint that says he knows he’s in for trouble and he is just as pleased as punch about it. “You mean to torture a man on his birthday, honeybee?”

The smirk you give him makes his heartbeat kick up a little faster - you can feel the quickening of it in the pulse point against your fingertips. “Absolutely.” You stretch up enough for one brief, warm kiss and then step back, jerking your chin towards the dining table where there’s already two glasses of wine poured at the ready. “Sit. I’ll bring out dinner.”

He nods, tongue rolling slowly against his bottom lip. “Yes ma’am.”

His gaze is a heavy weight on your body as you walk away, raking down across so much exposed skin. You hear him groan at the sight, low and appreciative. He’s always been fond of seeing you wrapped up in lingerie, even more fond of tearing up the expensive scraps just to get you bare for him. You’d chided him about it the first time - the bodysuit he’d ripped clean in half from gusset to tit hadn’t been cheap, even though that little display had thrilled you far more than you’d ever want to admit - but he always replaced what he ruined without fail.

When you come back, divested of the apron with plates in hand, Whiskey is sitting just as instructed, elbow on the table, chin resting on his knuckles. He tracks every move you make, every sway of your hips, a playful smile hiding the effort of his restraint as you set his dinner in front of him. He barely spares the food a glance when you elect to forego your own chair and simply hop up onto the table, setting your plate near his and dragging over your glass of wine.

“You’ve outdone yourself, honeybee,” Whiskey rumbles, sliding a hand up your knee to your thigh, and he could not be talking less about the food.

You only smile, taking an unhurried sip. “Somehow I thought you’d prefer this to a new tie. How old are you now, anyway?” you tease.

“Sweet sixteen,” he says dryly, hiking an eyebrow while he squeezes your thigh for your cheek.

You chuckle. “Uh-huh, and I’m Mother Theresa.” You lean in, spearing a slice of steak on his plate with your fork and holding it out for him. “Now, I worked very hard on this, and I am going to be very disappointed if you try to skip dinner on me just ‘cause you can’t quit eyeballing your dessert. Open.”

He tips you a wink before dutifully opening his mouth, letting you feed him. The soft, indulgent moan that leaves him as his eyes slip closed is too subdued to be anything but real. “Honeybee that is gorgeous. My compliments to the chef.” 

“The chef is glad to hear it.” You swipe your thumb over his lip, collecting the sheen of juice and garlicky butter and bringing it to your own mouth, delicately sucking it off. “Could’ve used a bit more rosemary.”

Whiskey shakes his head. “Mm-mm. This is perfection on a plate, baby. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

The smile that earns him is genuine, and you bend to give him a quick kiss. He presses it, just a little, a swipe of his tongue that you open for just enough to nip at before pulling away. “Eat.” You gesture meaningfully at his plate.

All told, there isn’t actually much on it. Steak, roasted new potatoes, and asparagus with hollandaise sauce. You’ve only served up maybe half of what you’d usually set in front of him for dinner, opting for more reserved portions. It’s a favor to you both - his patience wouldn’t last through a full meal without the need for physical restraints. There’s more in the kitchen, of course, and an actual pie for dessert if you happen to get that far. You’re both bound to be hungry again after.

Whiskey tucks in, fork in his left hand while his right stays comfortably curled around your thigh, slowly creeping higher and higher until he’s playing with the lacy top of your stocking. You give him a warning tilt of your head, your own fork poised halfway to your mouth. All you get in return is those plaintive, innocent puppy dog eyes of his, but his hand doesn’t advance further.

All in all you’re rather proud of his restraint, at least until one spear of asparagus manages to drip hollandaise down onto your cleavage. Suddenly that quietly repressed hunger cracks and he’s surging up towards you, mouth half-open and tongue peaking out, ready to clean you up.

But that won’t do. Not yet. Your reflexes might not be as good as his, but they’re nothing to balk at, either. You brace yourself back on one hand, leaning away and planting one of your high heels against his shoulder to shove him back into his seat. The look on his face is priceless; mouth agape and pupils blown. 

Slowly you shake your head. “You know better, Jack.”

His eyes track up the inside of your thigh to the crotch of your bodysuit - or rather, the lack thereof - and the split strips of lace that don’t cover your mound, but frame it prettily for him. “Fuck, honeybee,” he mutters breathlessly. 

Dinner and a show was always the plan. So you take your time, dipping your finger and swiping up the stripe of creamy yellow and holding it out to him. Whiskey stares you down as he takes the tip of your finger into his mouth and sucks dutifully, his tongue plush and soft and working against the pad of your finger the same way he worries it over your clit. A rush of heat rockets through you, leaving your belly warm and a sweet tingle tripping down your spine in its wake.

Biting your lip hard to rein in the impulse to just slide into his lap, you drag your finger out of his mouth. It’s what he wants; to make you break first, to make you lose at your own game. And where’s the fun in that?

“It is your birthday, so I’m going to cut you a little bit of slack, but if you can’t mind your manners and do as you’re fucking told, you’re gonna get a lot worse than a birthday spanking, pretty boy. Now, I told you: no dessert until you finish your dinner.” There’s precious little left on his plate; a few scraps of steak, a couple potatoes, one lone spear of asparagus. You stab this last with your fork and hold it out to him. “Last chance, baby. You open your mouth for me and be a good boy, and you can have me any way you want.”

Whiskey looks dazed; seething and starved and love-struck all at once. You don’t even need to look down to know he’s hard. But he hesitates just for a moment, whether it’s deliberate or accidental you’re not really sure - sometimes the man just really wants to be punished - but in that space you see his body jerk, hunching slightly as his abdominal muscles contract involuntarily. You follow the movement with your eyes and sure enough, there he is. Full mast and straining hard against thick denim.

Smiling sweetly, you wave the fork at him. “Your choice, Jack.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, and the roughshod timbre of his voice says it’d be a fine way to go.

Whiskey opens his mouth and takes what you give him.

You’re slow about it. Careful. Admonishing him when he tries to chew a little too quickly. Whiskey stares you down with eyes like coal seconds away from ignition. He holds your gaze while you slip another bite of food into his mouth, then lets his eyes slip down until they fix firmly on your half-exposed and already glistening cunt, and you know the moment you give him an inch he’s going to wreck the hell out of you for this.

When the last bite passes his lips he curls his hand around your ankle, squeezing. Always pushing his luck, this man of yours. You set his plate aside, glancing away like it’s no effort at all as he very methodically wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“Now can I have my dessert?” Impatience roughens the low gravel of his voice into something dangerously sharp.

You smile, leaning back on one hand. “There’s peach pie in the kitchen.”

He presses forward, left hand sliding big and warm up the inside of your thigh. The motion presses the leg you’ve used to pin him to his chair back until your knee is nearly flush with your chest, opening you up wider, the rush of air between your legs now shockingly cold against the wetness that had gathered there.

“Woman, the only pie I want a piece of is the one sitting right in front of me.”

The stretch along the back of your thigh burns, so you shift, hooking your leg over his shoulder instead. “I haven’t finished my dinner yet,” you protest cooly, reaching down to snag a strip of steak off your still half-full plate and popping it into your mouth.

Whiskey’s hands slip higher, and this time you don’t stop him, too busy sucking the buttery juices off your fingers. When the very very tips of his fingers brush the spread lace at the crux of your thighs he freezes, waiting for the rebuke, for fingers around his neck or your other heel to plant square in his chest. You consider it, sure; it’s certainly not a prospect without its merits. A man that enjoys being under your thumb is satisfying in a way that few things in life ever fully measure up to.

But honestly, you’ve worked hard enough tonight. Time to let him put in a little effort.

A tilt of your head and a curl of your foot against his shoulder is permission enough; slipping off the leash by way of a gesture, and the low smolder in his eyes blooms to a full burn. Whiskey stands to his full height, looming close enough for you to feel the heat bake off him as he shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons the cuffs on his dress shirt, rolling them up with a few quick turns of his wrists.

“Can’t let my girl go hungry now,” he hums in a voice like burnt molasses. “Lemme give you a hand there, honeybee.”

Smirking, Whiskey wraps an arm around you, brushing the tip of his nose against yours as you wriggle against solid heat of his body. His left hand wanders out of sight on the table as his lips meet yours, teasing your mouth open with the barest brush of his tongue, while his right hand trails warm and slow around your side and down and down to cup your mound.

It’s hard to believe you ever felt cold. You’re burning up now, skin flushed hot as his mouth grazes yours and breathes out: “Open up for me.”

And just like magic, you do. No input needed on your behalf; your mouth simply drops open and your legs shift wider in accommodation for him. There’s a clink of silverware and then he’s waving a fork at you, a strip of steak speared on the end. Whiskey’s eyes glitter as he pushes it into your waiting mouth. Each bite he feeds you is accompanied by a teasing dip of his fingers into your core, feeding you with his left hand while he touches you with his right. Your slickened folds part smooth and easy as he pushes his fingers inside you, a welcome but all too brief intrusion, before they trail up again to stroke at your clit. Again and again you rock your hips up, trying to encourage him to slip into you deeper, to give you a taste of the fullness and pressure of his cock, but every time his touch retreats.

You whine; a strange mix of frustration and pleasure. “Tease.”

“Takes one to know one,” he coos, the hand between your legs working faster. Heat builds quickly under his fingertips, a friction far more appetizing than anything else you’ve set on the table tonight. “You made the rules, honeybee. No dessert until after you finish supper. You do want your dessert, don’t you?”

He brings the next bite up, holds it tantalizingly close. You stretch out and he draws it back, and suddenly his fingers are rubbing a firm, determined circle on your clit. Your whole body jolts, gasping air with a pitiful little whine. There’s nothing but mischief on his face as he watches you, tongue sweeping against his bottom lip. He slows his fingers, brings the fork down again, closer this time. The food brushes your bottom lip before he pulls it away, fingers quickening again.

“Jesus,” you all but squeak. “Jack, don’t be mean.”

Whiskey gives you a considering hum, leaning forward to suck the sheen of butter off your bottom lip. “Oh darlin’ I would never,” he insists, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss that’s tender enough to be very nearly sincere if it weren’t for the fact that the motion of his hand never slows. A sweet, bright heat begins to build under his fingertips. “How could I be mean to my girl when she worked so hard for me, hm? I’m just paying that back in kind is all. You wanna come on my fingers, baby, you can do that all you like. I’ll make you come ‘til those pretty little legs can’t do much more than shimmy. You know I can. But you ain’t gettin’ nothin’ else until you clean your plate like a good girl.”

“H-ha-ah, fuck-how much more?”

He grins devilishly. “Just this last bite.”

“Oh you f-fucking jackass!”

Whiskey laughs. “Guilty as charged. Open up, baby, take what I got for you.”

He pushes the last bite past your lips and immediately delves his fingers into your warm and waiting cunt. The breath shudders out of you, fingers digging into the tablecloth as you try to hang onto enough composure to remember to chew and swallow. He’s slow for a moment, pumping and curling his fingers gently while he watches you eat. There’s a clink of silverware as he discards the fork and puts his arm around you, pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Good girl,” he murmurs sweetly.

Mouth empty now, you nudge your nose against his chin, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Jack-”

And then his grip becomes determined. The fingers inside you flex, the heel of his hand pressing hard against your clit and all you can do is cry out against the soft skin of his neck and hang on for dear life while he works you up and over the edge with shocking speed.

Trembling, you lock your legs around him as you come down, dragging his collar aside to bite lazily into the place where his neck and shoulder meet.

“Fuck,” he groans, hips rutting up against the back of his hand between your legs. “How do you want me, honeybee?”

That earns him a breathless laugh, goosebumps raising along his neck. “It’s your birthday, Jack. What do you want?”

Whiskey’s eyes drop to your mouth and he makes a considering sound, pulling back to suck you delicately off his fingers. “I think I want your mouth. And then I think I want to fuck you right here on this table until that divinely sweet little pussy wrings me fucking dry. Sound good to you, honeybee?”

“That can be arranged.” His eyelids flutter as you reach down to his zipper, not even bothering with his belt before you reach inside his jeans and the button fly of his boxers to tug his cock free, cupping your fingers to draw his balls out, too.

You move to stand and he shakes his head, caging you in. “No. Not on your knees, baby. On the table. I wanna see you all spread out for me. My pretty little present.”

He helps you. Sweeps your hair back as you lie flat on the dining table, scooting back to let your head hang just a bit. It’s not exactly comfortable. The edge of the table digs into your neck a bit, and the way the blood rushes to your head is not entirely pleasant either. But you watch Whiskey pace around you to take his place in front of your waiting mouth, cock bobbing and just barely beginning to leak for you, and you feel a gorgeous rush of heat at the sight.

Whiskey slides his palm up your stomach to cup one barely-covered breast. “Gorgeous,” he mutters, squeezing. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Jack.”

“I know, darlin’, I know. But my God you’re a picture.” He cups your cheek, absently brushes the corner of your mouth with his thumb before sliding his hand back to give your head a little support. “Open up for me, angel.”

And once again, you open up for what he gives you. The angle makes it strange, the topography of Jack’s body less familiar as he slips into your mouth, your tongue dragging wet and slow over foreign terrain. The taste of him, hot skin and the tang of bitter salt, that you know well enough. You close your eyes at it, bring your hands up to his hips to tug him slowly forward and listen to the way he moans.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, breathless and a little awe-struck. “Jesus fucking Christ. You spoil me, baby. Sweet as fucking honey, my god.”

A light touch against your breast makes you shiver, goosebumps raising as it draws lightly over your skin. A single fingertip, sliding the lace of the bodysuit aside to bare your breasts to the chill of the room and the warmth of Whiskey’s hands.

He mutters sweet things as he begins to move; sweet, tender, unconscionably filthy things. All the things you do to him. Do for him. The rocking of his hips is gentle at first, feeding you his cock inch by cautious inch. When he hits the back of your throat he pulls back on reflex, but the light scrape of your teeth and the sudden tightness of your grip on the plush meat of his ass sends him forward again. The angle eases the motion, and you relax into the pressure as he pushes in and in and...oh.

You feel the resistance at the back of your throat give gently; strange, but not uncomfortable. Above you, Whiskey lets out a pained groan.

“Shit. Oh shit yes, honeybee. Take it. Ohhh s-shit. Take all of it. Every goddamn inch. Fuck.”

And then his hips are flush with your mouth, the soft skin of his balls pressed up against your nose. Panting, he wraps a hand around the stretched column of your throat, swearing breathlessly. He moves, a small, careful thrust, and you can feel the tremor that ripples through him at the feeling.

“Just a little more baby,” he mumbles, pulling back until just the head of his cock rests within the warmth of your mouth. You suckle at it, working it eagerly with your lips and tongue while you breathe raggedly through your nose. Your hips jut up into thin air on their own accord, just as eager for him as your mouth is.

“I got you, honeybee.” The hand at your neck slips down, skimming over skin and lace until he finds your clit. The first touch jolts you, your cry stifled on his cock as you shudder up against him. “Good girl. I got you, baby. Jack’s got you. Keep going. Just a little more. Just a little more and then I’ll fill you right on up. Fuck my sweet girl’s brains right out of her head. Prettiest fuckin’ thing I ever fuckin seen, baby, holy fuck.”

You moan something against him - pleasure, acquiescence, god only knows - but the sound of it is lost as his cock slides steadily back into your mouth. The pressure in your head is distracting, tears prickling your eyes when he pushes in deep, but the stroking of his fingers and the feel of him in your mouth, sliding hard and slick and effortlessly down your throat is far more consuming than the discomfort.

He rocks into you. Fucks into you. Moans and gasping praises falling thick and fast from his lips as he moves. You don’t need to feel the way his balls draw up tight to know how close he is, how tight he’s riding the line between what he wants to do and what his body wants to do. You’re lost in it all the same; his pleasure and the fraying thread of his restraint. Your own pleasure, building quick and low and locking down the muscles in your thighs until they tremble. You float in it, overwhelmed and dizzy, until, very suddenly, you break.

Whiskey curses, pulling back to listen to you cry out, to let you curl up and clutch at him as he pants above you, muttering broken, desperate please of: “yes god yes honeybee all of it, gimme all of it, every last bit.”

You’re a wreck in the aftermath; pliant and limp, face teary and slick with spit and precome. He draws you up, wiping your face with a clean napkin before pulling you into a kiss that steals away whatever remained of your breath. He gathers you up, turns you until you can wrap your still-tingling limbs around him. Nudges his hips against yours, his wet cock dragging against slick skin and fragile lace.

“You okay, baby?” he asks, trailing soft kisses over your face.

You have to clear your throat before you can respond, the sound of it harsh and ragged like an engine turning over. “Y-yeah. Yeah I’m good. Dizzy, but good.”

“You ain’t the only one, honeybee. Almost didn’t make it in time. Wanted to fill up that pretty mouth so bad. You just about did me in.”

He laughs and you join him, breathing ragged joy into each other’s lungs.

“Still want me to fuck you?” The question should be coarse, but somehow isn’t. Not with his sweat-slick forehead pressed to yours and his lips ghosting kisses against your mouth with every breath.

“So sweet,” you mutter, combing your hands through his hair.

“LIke hell,” he scoffs, holding you tight to his chest. “I ain’t and you know it.”

“You are to me,” you insist, pressing a kiss against the tip of his nose. He smiles, softens everywhere but that place that throbs with impatient heat against you. “Now fuck me, pretty boy.”

A flash of a grin is the only warning you get before he’s hooking his arms under your knees and pulling you to the edge of the table. “Yes ma’am,” he says obligingly, planting a hand between your breasts to push you back against the table as he lines himself up, sliding into you with one smooth, achingly deep stroke. 

You moan, knees drawing up as his hips meet yours and he fills the space inside you that’s been aching for him all day. Whiskey lets out a groaning sigh, leaning into you like he wants to bury himself whole inside you. He hoists one of your legs up against his chest, nuzzles the inside of your knee while he tries to find his breath again. The length of him inside you is rigid as steel and blindingly hot, still so close to his own end that he has to wait, worrying his teeth over your skin, until the urge to just rut against you like an animal until he comes finally passes.

And when it does, when he opens his eyes at last, he looks down at you with a dazed, hungry smile. He presses a kiss to the tip of his finger and brings it down to your lips.

“Love you, honeybee.”

Heavy-lidded and so wonderfully full, you kiss his finger and arch your back. “Love you, too, cowboy.”

And that’s the last intelligent thing you manage to say. Finally - finally! - Whiskey fucks you, each pounding swing of his hips making the china rattle like nervous teeth. Your arms strike out, curling and flailing, trying to find something to grab onto as he fucks you. The heel of your hand strikes one of the wine glasses and sends it tumbling to the floor where it shatters. The breath leaves your body in tiny bursts with each impact; little monosyllabic cries punctuating each one.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” Whiskey murmurs. He cups your breasts, thumbing the pebbled sharpness of your nipples before his hands slide lower, finding the deep notch of the bodysuit between them. “Wrapped up so pretty for me.”

The lace tears away like it’s nothing, a clean rip down the center. Oh well. He’ll buy you another.

Whiskey folds over you, pulling you down closer so he can get an arm under your back, his hand grasping the back of your neck and pulling you up to meet his mouth. He’s still wearing his tie, the drape of fabric laying cool against your chest. Blessedly he’s not wearing his usual belt buckle. Foresight or oversight you’re not quite sure, but you’re grateful all the same as he grinds into you, a press of cold metal and leather against your belly.

He’s not going to last long, but it hardly matters. You’re too worked up, two orgasms down already, cunt so swollen and sensitive it’s hardly an effort to get you there again. But the feeling of him inside you turns that bright burn into something lower, deeper. Something that makes your muscles lock and tremble, straining up against him and gasping into his mouth.

“Jaaaack,” you whine, arms locked around his neck.

“Yes, baby,” he groans, voice quivering with every thrust. “Fuck yes I’m right there too, c’mon. Come with me, honeybee, come with me.”

His rhythm falters, grinding deeper and deeper, and all that strained tension in your body snaps like a rubberband. You sob, grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt, twisting and jerking as you come apart under him.

All Whiskey can do is growl as you bear down on him, gritting a litany of “yes, yes, fuck yes, god yes, that’s my girl that’s my girl that’s my fucking girl.” And then he’s gone, too, driving into you with a sudden jolt and crying out against the side of your neck as he comes.

You’re holding him too tight, clutching him to you as you both lie there, panting and shuddering, a spreading stain of red wine pooling next to your head.

“Jesus,” he whispers, tries to shift up to find your mouth, but even that amount of drag on his oversensitive cock is enough to make him hiss and jerk. “Fuck.”

“Mm-hm,” you agreed dumbly.

Whiskey lets out a growling hum, smoothing your hair. “You good, honeybee?”

You trail kisses up to his ear, still breathless. “What do you think?”

He wheezes a laugh. “I think I gotta replace a lot more than your frillies this time.” The laugh turns giddy, and Whiskey presses his forehead against your temple. “And I think I’m hungry.”

“Pie in the kitchen,” you mumble, too drowsy to do much more than nuzzle into the damp tangle of Whiskey’s hair.

“What kind?”

“Peach.”

He hums, smiling drowsily. “My favorite.”

You give a slow nod. “I know. Happy birthday, Jack.”

He kisses you, slow and sweet. “Best I ever had,” he murmurs.

[oioinanami]

glimpses. (bokuto koutarou x f. reader)

word count: 2.9k

synopsis: small glimpses into your life with bokuto.

contains: fluff, everything from strangers to lovers to established relationship to married life to parents + pregnancy au

i.

Bokuto doesn’t notice you at first. You’re just one face among many in the crowd of people watching the volleyball game. But once the match is over and he sees you running towards the other team, apparently being friends with one of their setters, your hair flying behind you, eyes bright and smile even brighter, he can’t help the way his heart stumbles and his eyes widen. To him, you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, your face open and inviting, smile warm and lively. For him, it’s love at first sight - so not even Akaashi can hold him back when Bokuto asks the other team to join them for their celebratory dinner. It was just a friendly match after all, nothing more - no need for the others to be upset over having lost. To everyone’s surprise, the other team agrees, and Bokuto gets to spend the evening in your presence, somehow managing to sit beside you during dinner. You click immediately, his open and fun persona matching your own energy, even though you’re more reserved, a bit softer. That night, Bokuto makes you laugh uncontrollably for the first time, and he swears his heartbeat just flatlines. The sound is so precious he wants to bottle it up and keep it treasure for the rest of his life. By the end of the evening, he has your number saved in his phone, knowing that this night has been the beginning of something wonderful.

ii.

For your first date, you and Bokuto decide to go play laser tag. You’re on the same team, but being overexcited, Bokuto accidentally shoots you not even five minutes into the game. He apologizes over and over again, clearly mortified, but you just burst out laughing and stand on your tiptoes to brush a soft kiss against his cheek, making his heart burst and his face split into a huge smile. After that incident, he takes over the role as your personal bodyguard, dramatically sacrificing himself three times just so you don’t get shot. Thanks to his efforts, you get one of the highest rankings once the game ends, and Bokuto proudly kisses the crown of your head when he sees you placed second, yelling a “That’s my girl!” and making you blush madly.

You decide to buy some ice cream afterwards, Bokuto insisting you get all your favorite flavors because “you earned it” - his words, not yours. You shyly take his hand once you leave the store again, holding your ridiculously large ice cream cone in your other one. He gives you a soft smile, and immediately interlaces his fingers with yours before tugging you with him towards a park nearby. You lazily stroll around, quietly observing the ducks floating on the pond and dogs running around as well as the other people walking past you. Once you’ve both finished your ice cream, you decide to sit down on a bench and enjoy the last rays of sunshine, Bokuto excitedly telling you about his last volleyball match. “And you should have seen my last spike, Y/N, it was so good - Akaashi orchestrated it perfectly and-” You can’t help the soft smile spreading over your entire face, amazed at his seemingly never-ending enthusiasm and just overall cuteness. Bokuto stops mid-sentence, eyebrows lifting in slight surprise when he sees your expression.

“What-”, he asks, but then you have already leaned towards him, covering his mouth with yours. He immediately wraps both arms around you to pull you even closer to his warm body, his lips practically melting against yours. A few seconds later, his tongue pokes at your bottom lip to demand entrance, sliding into your mouth once you grant it. You only break apart when your heads begin to spin from the lack of oxygen, Bokuto pressing his forehead against yours, eyes still closed. “Please be my girlfriend, Y/N.”, he finally mumbles before opening his eyes again; they look like liquid gold in the light of the slowly setting sun, and your heart skips a beat. He’s truly just so beautiful, looking at him almost hurts. You smile and just nod once, making him exhale in obvious relief. Bokuto quickly captures your lips in yet another kiss, and you melt further into his embrace.

iii.

“Where do you want me to put this, babe?”, Bokuto huffs out, holding a giant cardboard box in his arms, the veins on his hands even more prominent than usual. You lift one eyebrow, about to reply, but Akaashi beats you to it: “Y/N literally wrote ‘kitchen’ on the box, Bokuto.” With that, he turns to you, “Honestly, sometimes I wonder how you deal with him - he can be such an airhead.” You grin and lean against the doorframe, continuing to watch Bokuto who’s just placing the last of your many, many boxes onto the kitchen counter before wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “Yeah, but he makes up for it by being hot.”, you reply and shoot your boyfriend a playful wink. Bokuto just rolls his eyes at you and begins to pout while Akaashi makes a gagging sound. Kuroo, who’s lazing on your brand new couch, chuckles. “Leave the two lovebirds alone, Akaashi. I think it’s cute they’re still so in love.”, he says and yawns, eyes half-lidded and expression relaxed.

“Why are you even here? You didn’t even lift one finger.”, Akaashi complains and kicks Kuroo’s feet from the small coffee table. “Someone has to provide the good looks.”, the black haired man answers smoothly before giving Akaashi a feline smile. “I’m already taking care of that.”, you reply, and stick out your tongue at Kuroo when he bursts out laughing. “How about we order some food now?”, Bokuto asks before draping one arm over your shoulder, brushing his lips against your temple, “Anyone hungry?” “Ew, ’Kou, you’re sweaty.”, you immediately squeal and try to free yourself from your boyfriend’s embrace, but he just grins and hugs you even tighter. “Yes, but I’m your sweaty.”, he answers smugly, and you scrunch up your nose, letting him kiss the tip of it. “And we can always take a shower together later.”, he mumbles before giving you a quick kiss, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Other people can hear you, you know.”, Akaashi groans, and you blush, shooting Bokuto a playful dark glare. He just winks at you, and your stomach jolts, heart skipping a beat - even after years of dating, your boyfriend still has this effect on you. “I’m very hungry after slaving away all day.”, Kuroo answers, ignoring your snort, and stands up, “And I vote for pizza.” Akaashi grumbles something about ‘wanting sushi instead’ while Bokuto scrolls through the delivery app on his phone. You just smile and lean your head against his broad shoulders, still not quite believing that this is the apartment you and him get to call your home from now on. Your boyfriend gives you a small smile, and gently tucks some of your hair behind your ear before murmuring a soft “Welcome home, babe” under his breath, his golden eyes darting from yours to your hand resting on his broad chest just above his heart and back again.

He knows that someday soon, your finger will have a ring on it.

iv.

Bokuto can’t help but cry when he sees you walking down the aisle and towards him, dressed in all white, a happy and soft smile on your face, hands nervously clutching a small bouquet of different colored roses. Somehow, he manages to say his vows even though he’s pretty much sobbing by now, and you can’t help but giggle at your fiancé - no, husband now -, gently clutching his damp cheeks between your hands when you are finally allowed to kiss and seal the vow that will keep you bonded forever. “Be glad I’m the one wearing mascara or else you’d look like a panda right now.”, you mumble against his lips when you break apart again, your friends and families cheering loudly, and your husband breaks into a bright grin. “I’d be the cutest panda ever though.”, he replies smugly, and you laugh, before letting him literally sweep you off your feet and carry you towards the reception hall, the cheers around you still not dying down and making you both laugh in glee.

You’re ready to burst with happiness when Bokuto’s beautiful golden eyes lock with yours, his smile just genuinely proud and happy. “I love you so much, my lovely and wonderful wife. Thank you for making me the happiest man by marrying me today.”, he whispers against your lips before kissing you deeply. You smile into the kiss, and tangle your fingers in his dark hair, its tips that beautiful silvery color you adore so much. “I love you too, my handsome and amazing husband.”, you reply in a hushed voice once you break apart, and Bokuto smiles, eyes beginning to water again.

“LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”, Kuroo yells loudly when he enters the hall behind you, and claps Bokuto on his back before sweeping you up into a warm embrace, “I’m so happy for you guys! Who would have thought that you’d be the first one to tie the knot, ‘Kou? Out of all of us, I was totally betting on Akaashi to marry first.” Akaashi just playfully punches Kuroo’s arm before hugging both you and Bokuto, congratulating you quietly. His eyes are slightly red, but you decide to let it slide for now and to just tease him about it later. Your husband just laughs and ruffles his best friend’s hair before happily accepting the good wishes and hugs from the rest of your friends and families.

During your first dance, everyone can clearly see just how happy you two are, your eyes never leaving the other’s face, smiles soft and content; you‘re both just radiating pure bliss.

“Wanna bet who’ll end up the drunkest tonight? I’m saying it’ll be Hinata.”, you murmur shortly before the song ends, and Bokuto huffs out a laugh, “Nah, it’ll be Kageyama, for sure.” You grin, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Loser has to write all the thank you cards?“ “Bet.”, your husband just answers, and nuzzles your nose, his heart almost bursting with happiness.

v.

“Shhh, Daaaaddy, wake up!”

Bokuto groans and tiredly rubs his face, yelping when he sees the face of his four year old hover directly above him, wide eyes glinting in the dimly lit room. “What?”, he murmurs, mind still groggy, and his son bounces on his chest, making Bokuto groan again. “Little owl, you should be asleep! It’s still very early.”, he mumbles as quietly as possible, voice heavy with sleep. His eyes slide to your still sleeping figure beside him before hugging his son close, nuzzling his nose. “Just because you were named after the sunlight doesn’t mean you have to be awake as soon as it creeps over the horizon.” Haru gives him a mischievous yet sweet grin, looking very much like you in that second even though he has his father’s dark hair and golden eyes, before clutching Bokuto’s face between his chubby hands. “I’m hungry!”, he then whines, bottom lip wobbling dangerously, and Bokuto quickly sweeps the boy up into his arms, tiptoeing out of the dark bedroom.

“Then let’s go make some breakfast without waking mommy, okay?”, he murmurs in a hushed voice after having closed the bedroom door behind him, and Haru nuzzles closer to his father’s chest, seeking more warmth. “Okay.”, his son answers, voice sleepy all of the sudden. Bokuto just chuckles, quickly grabbing a blanket from Haru’s room and wrapping it around his son’s tiny body. After entering the kitchen, he gently places Haru on a chair before beginning to shuffle through the kitchen cabinets. “Waffles sound good?”, Bokuto asks after having found all the necessary ingredients, looking over his shoulder and at his son who just nods excitedly, suddenly much more awake after having heard the word ‘waffles’.

You find yourself alone in bed, fingers searching for your husband’s warm body that should rest beside you. Surprised to find his side of the bed empty, you open your eyes and blink a few times, the sleep tugging at your lashes making them unbelievably heavy. You sigh, and carefully roll over to get up, your steadily growing belly making it harder by the day. You shiver when your bare feet touch the cold floor, and quickly grab one of Bokuto’s hoodies, carelessly discarded on top of the rocking chair in the corner of the room. You inhale deeply while slipping it over your head, Bokuto’s scent still clinging to the fabric and filling your nose. He always smells like home, and you can’t help but smile before opening the door, being greeted by your husband’s low voice and your son’s much higher one. Your heart swells while you listen to their conversation for a few seconds; Haru is apparently in the middle of explaining why waffles are superior to pancakes, Bokuto just making soft “Oohs” and “Ahhs” in between while shuffling around the kitchen. You creep closer, and lean against the doorframe, taking in the scene in front of you. Haru is sitting at the table, a glass of juice in front of him while he bounces his favorite plushie, an owl and a gift from Akaashi, on his lap, still babbling about the superiority of waffles. Your husband is standing in front of the stove, his hair sticking up in different directions, only clad in soft pyjama pants, the muscles on his broad back rippling while he mixes the batter. You sigh softly, and gently cup the swell of your belly while smiling at your little family, soon to be four.

As soon as he hears you behind him, your son’s head snaps around and he squeals a happy “Mommy!” before jumping down from his chair and running to you for a hug. You laugh and bend down to ruffle his soft hair, silky like his father’s. “Good morning, my darling. Did you wake your daddy again?”, you ask, voice gentle but slightly reprimanding. Haru looks up, guilt written all over his face, his bottom lip protruding a bit. He truly just looks like an exact copy of his father, and you can’t help but smile even wider. “No, he was already awake.”, your son tries to lie, but the second you lift one eyebrow, he scrambles to add “After I bounced on his chest.” You grin. “That’s what I thought.” You crouch down low and give Haru a semi stern look. “You know that your daddy needs his sleep, right? He goes to bed much later than you, so he needs to sleep longer.” Haru nods, golden eyes filled with a silent apology, and you quickly clutch his small face between your hands to pepper kisses all over his cheeks, forehead and nose, making him giggle and squirm in your embrace. Once you’re done, you try to stand up again, groaning while doing so. Lately, your back has begun to hurt slightly, all thanks to your growing belly. Bokuto is quick to help you up, his large, warm hands cupping your elbows while he gives you a silent look of disapproval, worry dancing in his golden eyes. “You need to be more careful, babe.”, he murmurs, but you just give him a dismissive wave of your hand. “This is the second child I’m bearing, ace, so I think I know what I’m doing.”, you reply, and your husband can’t help but smile a bit bashfully at your nickname for him - he just loves when you call him your ace. “I guess that’s true. You’re truly my Wonder Woman.”, he says proudly before leaning down for his good morning kiss. You quickly melt your lips against his, and he sighs happily, wrapping both arms around you. “Eww.”, your son screams before making a gagging sound, and you pull back from your husband to press one hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter.

“I feel like we shouldn’t allow Akaashi to babysit him anymore.”, you fake-whisper to your husband, “He’s becoming too much like him.” Bokuto just nods before giving his son a playful look of displeasure. “Noooo, I LOVE UNCLE SHI THE MOSTEST!”, Haru immediately whines, hitting his tiny fists against his father’s thick thigh, “Please, daddy! I want uncle Shi!” Bokuto just huffs out a laugh and lifts Haru up into his arms, tickling his sides. “Of course, you know we love Uncle Shi the mostest too. Don’t tell Uncle Kuroo though.”, he whispers and kisses Haru’s cheeks, loud mwah noise included. That seems to calm your son immediately, and he finally relaxes into his father’s embrace, his tiny head now resting on Bokuto’s broad shoulders. You lean against your husband as well, and nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, sighing contently. “But I love Uncle Kuroo too. He says I’m going to be the best volleyball player one day, just like daddy is!”, Haru mumbles sleepily, and you smile softly, brushing his dark hair out of his sweet face. “Of course, you can be anything you want, my darling boy.”, you reply softly, and lift your head to smile at your husband. Bokuto returns it quietly before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. “I love you both so much.”, he murmurs when you break apart again, and you nuzzle his nose. “Me too.”, you answer before looking back at your son who has fallen asleep again, “Let’s go back to bed. We can have waffles later.” Bokuto just nods, and clutches his tiny boy a bit tighter in his arms before intertwining his fingers with yours, pulling you back towards the bedroom for some family cuddles.

© oioinanami 2021 | masterlist

[baepsaesbae]

Do You Love Me, Baby?

Pairing— Any member x female reader    

Genre— SMUT, established relationship, BTS’ pov, a hint of fluff if you squint and close one eye

Warnings— Dom!BTS, sub!reader, face fucking, oral sex (m and f), mild bondage, explicit rough unprotected sex please stay safe irl, choking

Word Count— ~2.8k  

Summary— A member of your choosing can’t wait to reunite with you again after being separated for so long.

A/N— This is different from what I normally post. This fic is in FIRST PERSON from the pov of a member of your choosing. Honestly, it doesn’t even have to be a BTS member, it can be anyone you want (but bc this is a BTS writing blog, that’s how I’m describing it for simplicity’s sake). Please let me know what you think! Much love guys~

It has been three months. Three excruciating months of torment.

 In three months, I have not smelled or tasted an ounce of sweet heaven-sent pussy. Nevertheless, here I am. My girlfriend dropped me off at the airport 3 months ago and each day since has been filled with daydreams of making her irresponsibly scream and moan into my ear. A revolution has taken place in my mind. I have come to the realization that this pussy is the one that will take me to the end game. Little by little I scratch and claw back to my sanity. Lick by lick, thrust by thrust, my dreams show me how much I yearn for my baby’s pussy. Until one day I had enough, and I would take no more. I finally cleared my schedule to spend time with my babygirl. I only had one objective: fucking my girlfriend senseless. The time was nearing.

See, the fun part of my relationship is that we both share the same goal. We want to pleasure each other in any way possible. This allows for more opportunities in a lot of situations. A party where everyone is outside? Easy quickie in the restroom. A family party in the house? Easy quickie in the restroom. A hotel room with insulated walls? Easy repeated thrusts into the dome of her clit while my dick rims the outside of her pussy. Regardless, I am having rough sex with my bratty babygirl.

Would you look at that, I just checked into a hotel room with insulated walls nothing but about five minutes away from her house. I had no other plans.

“Hey baby, I’m here,” I texted.

“Ohh?” she texted back.

“I can come pick you up,” I offered.

“No! I’ll just meet you there” she refuted.

My baby wanted to make sure she was ready; she knew what she was getting herself into.

“Give me 10 minutes,” she followed up

I took those ten minutes to do push-ups and sit-ups to make sure my body was in pristine shape for her. Then the time finally came.

“Baby !! I’m here!” she messaged.

I rushed to the elevator pressing the button as fast as could. I was tapping my foot as the elevator slowly sunk its way down to the bottom floor. She was sitting outside of the back entrance of the hotel waiting for me to open the door. I met her with the biggest hug followed by a sincere kiss on her soft lips. That initial kiss sent me into a remedial state of recollecting all those nights we shared. Never in my life did I think I would be so in love, yet I stood there, shocked.

“Baby… do you want to go back to your room?” she brought me back to reality.

“Let’s go,” I responded, taking her hand in mine.

Both of us were wound up, ready to release our hormonal excitement onto each other, but we both acted like nothing was any different. As if we’ve been seeing each other every day.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“I’ve been good, you?” she answered quickly.

“Oh, you know just chillin,” I shrugged nonchalantly.

“Ah...” her voice trailed off.

I was standing there edging and riding the thin line of sanity looking at the hottest woman on earth positioning herself next to me. The only thing holding us back was this elevator, until I became aware of that. I rushed to meet her next word with my lips and pinned her against the elevator wall. I quickly checked to see if there was a camera in the elevator, but to our luck there was not. I began running one of my hands through her hair, while the other got a firm grip onto one of her big bountiful butt cheeks. We had a long way to go up to the fiftieth floor, and I wanted to use every ounce of time I had. My hand slowly rode down breaking into her slit, she looked at me deep into my eyes and nodded to keep going. I placed my left index finger onto her clit and began rubbing. She kept removing her lips from mine to brace for the impact on each pass-over.

“Baby, let’s go to the room,” she said impatiently as we got to my floor.

We sped out of the elevator, jogging our minds to figure out whether to go left or right. Time was of essence, every second we wasted was a second in which I was not inside of her. Even through our horny daze we chose the correct direction. I found myself at my door swiping with haste, only to find patience as my true virtue. After the fifth time and finally slowing down the door unlocked.

The immediate second the door slammed shut I proceeded to slam her against that same door and put my hand down her pants again. Slowly rubbing against her clit, I made her jolt in a random direction with each circle. She pushed me off.

“Get onto the bed,” she winked.

She walked into the bathroom while I laid myself onto the bed ready to be led astray. She walked out wearing nothing but a lacy lingerie set she had been saving for me. She slowly toppled me with a daring intent in her eyes. I brought both of my hands to land firmly on the cheeks behind her body. She moaned with excitement.

“Come here,” I growled as I wrapped my arms around her back and brought her lips closer to mine.

I missed her. I missed her soft voice comforting me when I felt the loneliest. I missed her wet pussy wrapped around my cock. But how could I miss her when she was right here on top of me? I dug my face into her chest giving attention to each nipple. She let out small yelps when I licked them the right way, and I continued to do so over and over. I moved my hands lower and lower until I reached her slit once again. I ran my right hand under her lingerie to dig into her wet pussy, reminding me of how much she wanted me. This only invigorated me to seize the moment and take action. I grabbed her by the waist and used my strength to pull myself up and over placing myself on top.

“Did you miss me baby?” I questioned.

“Yes, of course,” she mewled.

I began to place my lips on her neck as she responded. I kissed every inch until I started to slowly run my tongue across the side of her neck.

“Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”  I playfully bit her ear and whispered.

I gradually kissed my way down to her breasts to bring attention to them again. I love playing with her breasts. She sometimes gets self conscious of them, but they bring me joy, especially when they’re right in front of my face. All the while, I’m bringing my right hand down in between her legs to scout ahead. I feel a waterfall pour onto my finger and realize my descent was about to begin. Inch by inch my lips walk downwards to find themselves in between her legs and I halt.

“Look at me,” I demanded.

She never liked looking at me when I went down on her, but I wanted her to. As of lately I would wait for her to make eye contact with me to begin putting my tongue on her juicy slit. She had no other choice, if she wanted to go forward, she had to obey. I slid the lingerie over enough to expose her to me. She looked me in the eyes and I ran my tongue up her lips. I would stop each time she would look away, forcing her to heed to my wishes. I landed my tongue onto her clit and repeatedly flicked my way into hearing her whimper in enjoyment. The cards were dealt, there was nothing she could do. She was playing into my hand, and that’s how it would be. I quickly began rubbing my left index finger against her lips while I ate her clit out. Soon I inserted my finger rubbing against her top wall causing her moan. I dug further and curved my finger upwards to push against the reverse side of her clit causing her to escalate her moans. She became wet enough to allow me to insert my middle finger and continue to press up against her clit.

They say three is the magic number, and three fingers is all my baby needs. Once my fingers were drenched in her juice I slammed three of my fingers into her with the intention of finishing her off. I began to thrust my hand upwards and outwards to hone in on her g-spot while I slid my tongue directly on her clit with aggression.

“Go faster,” she fit in between her breaths.

I jammed my fingers faster and faster pushing her to her limits while she screamed and yelled, “Keep going baby!”

Over and over.

“Fuck!”

Over and over, faster and faster.

“Fuck baby, don’t stop!”

Each motion pushed more of the consequences onto the bed sheets, but nothing was going to stop me from finishing her. I slid my tongue up and down her clit while I struck her g-spot with rhythmic precision gradually increasing the speed. Increasing the severity of the moans, increasing the decibels in the room, increasing the intensity of her orgasm until she came crashing down all over my hand. She was shaking.

She had not had enough, she craved more. She wanted more of me, she wanted all of me inside of her.

“Baby, I want you to fuck me.”

I have been waiting for this. I ripped my pants off and began stroking my hard-throbbing cock against her clit.

“Why are you teasing me,” she said in a bratty tone.

“Beg,” I said. “Beg.”

“Hmph,” she whimpered.

“Beg,” I held my ground.

“Baaaaby,” she panted in a bratty tone once again.

“Beg for me baby,” I instructed softly while still teasing her entrance.

“Fuck me baby, I want all of you inside of me, please!”

I put the tip right on her opening and looked my baby in the eyes. I slowly add weight into the stroke and place the head of my cock inside of her trembling pussy arriving at the feeling of bliss and serenity. The moment that I have been waiting for. The soft plush alluring walls that tempt and mock me. I push forward and her inner walls and my cock meet as if two old friends catch up on forgotten memories. Forward and inward, my room receives a welcoming moan from me. I take this time to lean in.

“I love you baby.”

She was too caught up in my soft deep strokes to respond. I pushed her legs as far outwards as her flexibility would allow and gained grip on my feet like dropping an anchor. I proceeded to pound my dick downwards producing sloppy wet noises from her pussy.

“Do you love me?”

She was too preoccupied with trying to think straight to be able to respond. So, I took a hand off one of her legs and started rubbing my thumb on her clit as a punishment.

“Baby, do you love me?”

Still no response. Only whimpers.

I removed the other hand from her leg and gently placed it around her throat.  I continued to synchronize my thrusts with the motion of my thumb. I got close to her face.

“Baby, do you love me?” I repeated.

I was not going to give her a chance to respond until I felt like she deserved it. Each thrust prevented her from answering my question. I used this opportunity to punish her again. I slowly removed my cock from her while pushing her arms into the bed and bringing my body forward onto her.

“Let me give you a reason not to speak.”

I brought my cock up to her lips and she opened her mouth like the good girl that she was. I pushed myself down her throat. She couldn’t take all of me. Yet, I pushed myself further and further through her wet mouth still asking the question.

“Do you love me, baby?”

Knowing well that she could not respond, I still wanted to punish her. I reached over to my drawer and grabbed a red ribbon. I flipped my baby over and tied her hands behind her back. I then took my cock and eased in from behind her. This was her favorite position and she was about to be reminded why. I railed her with furious strokes causing a mess to spew all over the bed, but nothing was going to stop me.

“Fuck baby fuck,” she yelled.

I kept pivoting my dick further down into her wall causing both parties to get dangerously drenched. She screamed and yelled louder and for more to hear.

“Oh my fuck, keep going!”

I grabbed her by her tied up hands and pulled her closer. I used my other hand to wrap around her throat and fucked her as hard as I could.

“Baby right there! Don’t stop!”

I was not going to stop.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

I slammed her head back down onto the bed and used my arms to push her shoulders deep into the mattress. Each pulverization sent a shockwave through her ass cheeks, ricocheting back to me only to meet the next crushing blow. Incomprehensible sounds came muffled from her mouth as it was dug into the sheets. More and more liquid came splashing out onto the bed. More and more screams would grace my ear like soothing music. Our moans were our duet, and this bed was our stage. We had been putting on a spectacular piece, but she was the star of the show. I laid every inch of myself into her at a decelerating pace. Her whole body began quivering on my cock as she released herself all over me. She became numb as I slowly eased her off her orgasm and fell flat onto the bed. With whatever strength she had left.

“Your turn. Lay down baby,” she commanded.

I did what she asked but she was still tied. From under her, I grabbed her by the ponytail I made with my hands and slowly pushed her head down onto my dick. Up and down, up and down, as she gagged and choked on me.

“Baby, can I cum in your mouth?” I pleaded.

“Mhm” she mumbled with me inside of her throat.

I relentlessly push her deep down on my cock with rapid succession forcing her saliva to spread over every inch. I wanted something that I still hadn’t gotten. I pulled her head off my cock.

“Do you love me baby?” I asked one last time.

“I love you, darling” she said while trying to catch her breath.

I then threw her head back onto my tip and unrelentingly thrust my cock into her mouth until I came down her wet throat. I pulled her hair back to make her look at me while she swallowed my seed. I took my hand off her head, but she continued to stroke my dick with her lips and ran her tongue around my head trying to tease me. When she was done I got up, untied her, and pulled her close to give her a big kiss.

       She is the love of my life, she makes me happy, and she loves me to death. She laid her head on my chest and I began to stroke her hair. We started to share our adventures from the past three months filled with laughter and smiles from ear to ear. I couldn’t help myself but to think “I’m going to marry this woman one day.”

Published February 26th, 2021. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2021 Baepsaesbae.

[sweetbunnykook]

Utopia (M)

Adopted!JK x Detective!Noona - Oneshot/Drabble

Warning: taboo relationship (FYI: JK is in college here!), LIGHT SMUT, angst 

Word: 1,200

Synopsis: Jungkook won’t let you deny him any longer.

Jungkook watches you from the bed as you shrug your long ebony wool coat off your shoulders. The blinds are shut, the bedroom door is locked, and the old yellowing lamp – the only light source in the room – is dimmed. He relaxes further into the cloud soft mattress as you sigh and roll your neck from side to side, your exhaustion just as evident as your frustration even in semi-darkness.

He knows all about it. He knows that you enjoy dragging the blunt end of that clear glass dildo you keep hidden in the bottom drawer up your soaking wet clit when he’s working in his own room. He can smell your cunt when you’re sitting under the shower drowning in shame as he tip toes into your bedroom and smells your panties and damp sheets, relieving himself with the sound of your pleasurable sighs and hums from the bathroom. His skin prickles with sweat and his eyelids droop as he takes you all in – your deep chestnut locks, your caramel feline eyes, your lithe fingers unscrewing your earrings before you lay the gold gently into a cushioned box.

Jungkook meets your eyes when you glance back at him, eyes falling down to his uncovered chest for a second before you turn away. His pajama bottoms – the only item of clothing save for his boxers underneath – hangs low at his hips. If you looked longer, you would be able to count the amount of hairs that followed his happy trail.

It dawns on you that Jungkook – looking like this – doesn’t intend to leave and sleep in his own room tonight. After what happened weeks ago, after you let yourself be carried away by a few glasses of wine and let him have a taste of your needy cunt, you’ve been adamant about sleeping alone. You’re fine alone – or at least partially as your toys keep you company when your body craves his touch.  

But it stops here. It must, for your own sanity, and for his as well as you can feel the warmth of his hard gaze even when you’re turned away. It’s too early in this strange and draining relationship to allow yourself to knock down the walls and-

“Mom.”

Jungkook breathes into your nape, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing until your stomach tightens. When did he move behind you?

“You smell so good.” He nuzzles further into your skin, hands moving over the swells of your breasts to undo the first button of your collared shirt. “So sweet…”

You clasp your hand over his wrists, halting his urgency. “I-I think I want to sleep alone for tonight. Okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

You take one step away from him towards the clothing rack, folding the clothes you know are meant to be thrown into the laundry basket.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.”

“I locked the doors.”

“I said goodnight.”

“I closed the blinds.”

“Jungkook, please-”

“I want you, mom.” Jungkook whispers, sending a tremor through your body that makes you jolt away from him even further until your hips jam into the clothes-filled rack.

He continues. “I’m sick of listening to you cum when we’re barely separated by a wall. I want to be the one to make you feel good. Don’t you want to feel me, mom? Feel all of me inside you?”

“Don’t say that, Kook. You’re…you’re so young and…you don’t mean it. I raised you to be too dependent on me when I should’ve-”

“Stop it!”

He grips your upper arm and yanks you back towards him until you look up at his furious glare, his usual round and innocent eyes now sharp and full of desperation.

“I know what I mean, mom.” He breathes, eyes glossing over.

You can’t deny that the proximity of his warm and solid body near yours is making you unable to think straight.

“I’m a man.” He takes your hand and brings it to his chest where his heartbeat lays under your palm. “I’ve grown and,” he drags your hand further up his neck before moving towards his breastbone and dipping down his sculpted abdomen. “I’ve gotten stronger. Bigger.”

When your fingertips reach the edge of his waistband, he uses his other hand to tip your chin up towards his gaze and away from the squeeze of his lower abdomen as he relishes the ache of arousal.

“Let me take care of you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Just say the words, mom. We’re past this, aren’t we?”

You sniffle softly, shame poisoning your veins.

Jungkook moves your hand underneath his waistband and over his hardening cock, cursing underneath his breath when your fingers automatically curl around his length through the thin black boxers.

“Feel me. Feel how much of a man I’ve become.”

“Kook-”

“Please, mommy…” he places his forehead on your shoulder, letting go of your hand inside his sweatpants as he runs his palms up and down your violin waist. “Please love me…make love to me like we’re lovers…”

Hot and cold. You’re unsure of how you were able to push him back onto the bed as he rests his full weight onto you to keep you from running as you’ve been doing since the last time you let him have a taste of the forbidden fruit. Underneath you, Jungkook keeps his hands still at your waist, peering at your pencil skirt riding up to your thighs as you straddle his hips. He could’ve sworn he saw the gates of heaven when you unbutton the rest of your blouse and shrug the material down your arms, letting it fall to reveal your bra-clad breasts.

“Can you…” your voice shakes and Jungkook sits upright on his elbows, listening carefully.

You’re trembling, as nervous as a virgin he thinks, amused, and deathly afraid of what will follow in the morning. Jungkook trusts that you’ll truly see him for what he is now – the only man who belongs in your life; your lover, your best friend, your son.

“Turn off the lights?”

You nod, your fingers tracing swirls down his solid tanned chest. The years pass by in a blur. Your Jungkookie has grown and now he wants more, demands more, and is not willing to budge when he has his eyes on what he wants.

Maybe that’s one thing you taught him well.

Jungkook chases after your lips and moves his tongue swiftly over your mouth. His hands remain steady on your waist once more and he relishes in your hesitant tongue responding to his need to be closer, to be smothered. When you reach behind you to undo the clasp of your brassiere, Jungkook flashes a smile.

No more running. No more waiting. No more begging. It’s just you and him.

“Okay.” He giggles softly, so not like the boy who wanted to prove himself a man. He stretches his arm towards the lamp and pulls on the copper cord hanging from the edge.

The room engulfs in darkness.

Your lips find solace on his neck where his mole should be and you close your eyes.

“I love you.”

His breath his hot next to your ear, full of mirth. “I love you more.”

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Goodbye - Epilogue (Captain Syverson)

MASTERLIST         P1          P2          P3          P4          P5   

A/N: I happy cried writing this. I apologize for it’s delay but sincerely hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy! 

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, language, a hint of smut, more fluffy domestic goodness, reference to PTSD

***********************************

An arid summer’s eve laid upon them yet a welcoming, cool brisk dispersed through the night’s mellow sky. It was one of those magical July nights, a night that didn’t cause you to swelter miserably. At least not as fast as usual. Y/N gazed up at the array of luminescent stars glistening down on her sighing contently. She eyed the big dipper with ease thinking back to every astrological book she’d homed over the three decades.

Her hand grazed her bulging belly soaking in the last days before her son’s arrival. She leaned her head against the cool cushion contemplating the peaceful the evening. Soon her thoughts drifted to her husband, Sy putting their two miracles, Luna and Oliver to bed. Her eldest, Oliver was the definition of a blessing in disguise. Now her baby was five and the celebration of Luna’s third birthday long past. Where did the time go…every mother greatest fear.

Briefly, Y/N closed her eyes listening to the music laced in the wind. Soon they would be outnumbered, something both of them were slowly coming to terms with. Sy cherished the swell of her belly and the fullness of her breasts secretly wishing for as many kids as humanly possible. 

Y/N, on the other hand figured three was plenty but Sy was a tricky one, a handsomely tricky man who worshipped the ground she walked on. A different man from their initially rocky start. Granted, looking back on the beginning of their relationship left a small twinge in her chest, he’d tried his damndest to make it up to her every day since leaving that hospital.

Sy had gone through hell and back clawing his way from death’s vicious grip. Rehabilitation had kicked his ass but he persevered gradually gaining strength after every tedious therapy session. Needless to say, the last couple years weren’t always roses and butterflies. Oh no, there were times when Sy admitted defeat, yelled in unbridled anger, and genuinely resented the cards he’d been dealt.

But it brought them here together, in this moment, forever thankful of their ever-growing family. And for that she would be infinitely indebted for the rest of her days. Thankfully after two intensive years of non-stop motivation and assistance, the only sign of his accident was a minor limp Y/N found absolutely loveable.

Cicadas pierced the silence as lightning bugs alit to life. Sy’s heavy steps protruded along the wood stripped floors making his way towards his magnificent wife. The swivel of the sliding door popped Y/N’s serene daze. A thunderous voice echoed; “Baby?”

Y/N hummed sensing him approach from behind. His meaty hands met the crook of her neck massaging her swollen shoulders. An uncontrollable exhale escaped her.

“Hey good lookin’.”

His lips brushed against her moisturized skin grazing her collarbone before roaming towards the corner of her lip. Taking his own cue, Sy continued his trail of hot kisses down her chest wavering towards her plump breasts. She moaned in pure bliss.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to send me into labor.”

Sy stopped, a chuckle reverberating from his chest; “Ain’t that a good thing?” His Texas twang was the equivalence of freshly churned butter, a noise so familiar her heart still soared to cloud nine.

Choosing to ignore his sass, Y/N found herself staring upwards at the stars and many constellations. Sy’s large frame settled into the chair beckoning her towards the setta lounge chair. Y/N nodded unwilling to deny her handsome husband a minute longer sliding into his lap. His heat immediately emitted to her core warming every bit of exposed skin.

“I see you made it out in one piece?”

Sy’s massive arms engulfed Y/N’s changing body perching his chin atop her shoulder.

“Hardly! If I have to read Uni the Unicorn one more damn time I might have to be committed.”

Y/N jokingly slapped his shoulder; “Oh c’mon. You love seeing Luna’s beaming smile or else you wouldn’t give in to her every night.”

“Sure, she’s cute now but wait til she’s datin.”

“Nope, nope. She’s still gonna be my sweetie.”

Sy considered his wife’s words coming to a conclusion that she was shamelessly right. His girls had him tightly wound around their fingers. He wasn’t your average fool, no he was now a family man fool. If someone told him this is where his life path would’ve led him, he’d have blatantly laughed in their face but now he saw no other future than the one right in front of him. The numerous doctors and therapists saved his life but Y/N truly revived him from the perverse melancholy of PTSD.

The woman who hung the moon, balanced his universe, the woman who miraculously gave life to two healthy children, and the woman he once stupidly shoved aside. That was in the past and for the first time in his life, Sy looked forward to the future, their future.

Together they sat tangled as one listening to nature’s melody. After leaving the city, they’d purchased ten acres ready to rear their children outside of hectic city living.

“Baby, have I told you I love you today? Because if not shame on me.”

“Only bout a million times but who’s counting.”

His arms draped around her waist tenderly rubbing her jutting stomach.

“God, you are so fucking sexy like this.”

“Like what? Bloated and gassy?”

Her sarcasm was undeniable.

“No, horny and swollen with my child.”

“Man, you really know how to get my hormones raging….”

“Seriously babe, I love seeing pregnant. It’s incredibly hot. Bigger boobs, higher sex drive, these curves, I mean who would complain?”

“Ha ha. Well, that makes one of us because I feel like a whale.”

Syverson didn’t miss a beat; “But a very sexy whale.”

“Kids go down easy?”

“If by easy you mean fifteen minutes of reading with light back rubbing, and a fight over that squirrel night light, then yes, they went down easy.”

“Thank you for the peace and quiet. Sincerely.”

“Anything for you, baby.”

“Any more thought on what to name bubba here?”

Y/N caressed her belly protectively searching for catchy names.

“What about… Henry?”

Sure enough, Y/N nodded liking the ring of it; “Henry Syverson. Sounds pretty awesome if I do say so myself.”

He held her jaw lightly guiding her to face him admiring the sparkle in her eyes.

“Well cowgirl, I can’t wait to meet him.”

“I can’t believe we’re about to be outnumbered.”

Her pulse accelerated at the terrifying notion alone but Sy remained calm, cool, and collected.

“Y/N, we’ve got this. You and me, together. We’ve mastered two already, what’s one more?”

Her newfound nerves evaporated. Y/N squirmed trying to stretch her sleepy bones. A sensational moan flowed from his lips. So, Y/N repeated her previous movement wiggling her hips for full effect.

“Darlin, that feels fucking fantastic.”

“Mmm, yeah?

Taking charge Y/N kissed him sliding her tongue along his lower lip. With every passing second the intensity skyrocketed; Y/N passionately kissed him. Syverson devoured her like a man starved deepening the connection. Breathy pants circulated around the air. Before Sy could enunciate another vowel, his zipper was down and Y/N palming his hardening dick. He was damn glad he married a minx. His head back launched against the cushion at the sensation coursing through his veins. Y/N made quick work unbuttoning his pant clasp tugging the offensive material below his knees.

Sy’s fingers danced over her hips clutching at the sheer nightie. Silently taking his cue, Y/N raised to her knees giving him full access. Sy didn’t hesitate ripping the material watching her round breasts shimmer underneath the moonlight.

“God baby. You are gorgeous.”

“And to think you almost passed all this up.”

His laugh was hesitant thinking back on his former idiotic actions. Y/N allowed him a couple seconds of consolation before snapping him out of his self-hatred inner monologue. Her hand gripped his chin forcing his gaze; “Don’t do that, honey. Our past is what saved us. You are the only man for me.”  

He plunged two fingers into her soaked pussy jolting her system. Her hips moved as Y/N fucked herself atop him. Sy watched on in awe basking in marvel.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I gotta be inside you. Now.” Choking out the final word Sy knew he wouldn’t last long at this rate. He teased her clit rubbing his bulging tip teasingly along her most sensitive part. Y/N slid down his thick cock relishing in his fullness.

Every push and pull succumbed to a harder thrust. Sy held on for dear life losing himself in her sweet essence. Fireworks sparked beneath her lids as Sy pulsated within her velvety walls. Underneath the stars, two lovers made love uninterrupted for as long as the darkness lingered. Two mind- blowing orgasms later, two lovers remained intertwined and imperfectly in love.

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

“Mommy! Dada!”

Little feet pattered down the hallway nearing with every step. Y/N’s lids were sleep heavy enveloped by muscular arms.

“The rascals are awake and on the prowl.”

“Too awake. It’s Sunday! The day definition of rest.”

“Not when you have kids, hon.”

“Quick! Kiss me before the barge in.”

Sy leaned closer admiring his wife’s morning beauty sealing the deal. Milliseconds later their bedroom door burst open as two little people climbed the chest located at the foot of the bed. Grinning smiles in tow, Oliver and Luna snuggled towards their drowsy parents. Oliver landing atop Sy’s bare chest and Luna snuggled Y/N’s welcoming bosom.

“Mama! You pretty.”

Y/N grinned at her beautiful baby girl wondering just where the little baby she gave birth to went. Her heart ached wanting to memorize every last detail.

Sy’s booming bravado could awaken an entire hotel spinning her kids into endless giggles.  

“Good morning my cubs!”

“Daddy, we’re not cubs!”

“To me you are.”

Y/N shot him a glare; Sy joined in breaking into a fit of laughter; “Who’s hungry?!”

“Me!”

“Me, me, daddy!”

Jumping up and down, they were ready to greet the day bushy-eyed and energetic. Momma was in serious need of a strong cup of peppermint tea.

“But first lemme kiss baby Hen.”

Too distracted by husband caressing her loving belly, Y/N sighed at the newly created nickname.

“Hen, huh?”

His magnetic eyes travelled to hers; “You like?”

“So much. But let’s address the real elephant in the room… What’s for breakfast?”

Oliver continued jumping as Luna squirmed in Sy’s strong arms.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Y/N feigned coyly suppressing her glee; “Hmm, I’m thinkin…...WAFFLES!!”

“My favvvvorite!!”  

Shuffles of tiny feet waddled echoing down the hallway. Sy placed a loving kiss on her forehead; “Take your time sweetheart. I’ll watch the monsters.”

“You’re a godsend.”

“Only for my girl.”

Heavy footsteps followed suit. As much as Y/N treasured the last few months of pregnancy. With that being said she was more than ready to greet her bundle of joy. Out of nowhere a pain shot through her spine down to her pelvis knocking the wind from Y/N.

“Ouch...” She rubbed her stomach; “Hungry little man?”

Again, another kick radiated her body. Y/N ventured forward heading towards the loud noise coming from the kitchen.

Splash. Glancing down, Y/N noticed a puddle between her legs staring wide-eyed; “Shit, shit, shit!”

A dull ache riveted feeling overwhelming pressure on her uterus. Warm liquid dripped down her inner thighs. This could only mean one thing; show time.

“Sy!”

No response.

“Syverson! Get your cute butt up here! NOW.”

Sy magically appeared out of breath, concern written all over his face; “What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

With her contraction temporarily paused her brain was able to formulate words; “I uh, believe my water just broke.”

“Holy shit.”

“Language, damnit!”

Sy threw her a stern spirited look; “Hi, Pot. I’m Kettle.”

“Hush it and make yourself useful. Suitcase is in the hall closet by the front door. I’m gonna grab my slippers. Meet you in a jiffy.”

An arm reached for Y/N; “Ah, ah. Not so fast. I moved them two days ago. I had this weird feeling buggin me and well, ya.”

Taking a deep hearty breath, Y/N collected her impulsive thoughts; “Okay, let’s’ get the littles buckled and do this, baby.”

“One sec.”

Locked in his hug, Sy wanted to remember every detail of Y/N, just like this, in the home they built and the family they were blessed with. Words were no longer necessary. But just as quickly, another wave of contractions hit Y/N sending her hurling over.

“Okay, moment over. Let’s get the show on the road.”

And just like that the once too painful burdens Syverson lugged with him the past years vanished never questioning his luck and life again eternally grateful to the woman who simply said I do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[randombtsprincessa]

Be My Teacher

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (She/Her) (2nd person written in third perspective)

Words: 2.2k

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Rating: Mature (18+)

Summary: You ask your best friend turned boyfriend to show you how he likes his blowjobs.

Warning: I am swerving dangerously in the Jungkook lane. Discussion on BJs, explicit smut scene, detailed description of oral (male receiving).

A/N: Happy Birthday to bunny boy Jeon Jungkook! Banner is by yours truly! Let me know how you like it, thanks!

Music Companion -  Myth Syzer - Bonbon a la menthe (Stwo Remix)

“So…you…hmm want, what?”

If you thought that you would get off scot free rolling your eyes at this moment, you would have. Granted, maybe it would’ve displayed a good bit of power play, considering you were on your knees but right now, it wasn’t about that.

At least, you were trying hard not to make it so – but it was so difficult when you were so used to doing so with him.

Jungkook was sat slouching in the easy chair in the living room of his ‘bachelor pad’. His legs parted, accommodating you to sit daintily upon your folded legs, already getting numb from the static position. The hem of his sweatshirt rose up just so, resting along his abdomen and giving you a tantalizing glimpse at his toned stomach.

For Jungkook, he would’ve opened his legs and allowed anything to be done to his body, because it was you. He had worked hard for you, and he knew you did the same for him. So when you’d moved in front of him, clad only in a soft cashmere shirt that was two sizes too big on you, it was obvious for him to turn off the game he was watching to give you all his attention

Especially, since you’d given him a smile that made hair rise up on the back of his neck and throat to go dry.

But when you’d sunk down, looking every bit the temptress that you were, innocent and big eyed and said that, well…he had to admit, he was confused and maybe mildly concerned.

“I want you to show me,” You repeated, slower for his benefit, “How you like head.”

Jungkook was already sitting up, elbows leaning against his knees. “Baby, it’s…you don’t have to, I mean, I don’t,” He was stammering, stumbling on his words as if he wasn’t an active young adult but then, he also knew that as your boyfriend, as your best fucking friend; he couldn’t allow you to think your blowing skills were subpar.

Considering that you and he had just recently gotten together after a brief stint of mutual pining and a clichéd confession. Nothing sexual, save a few minor kisses had happened.

“Kook,” He stopped at your sigh of his nickname. “Stop fretting so much; I just,” Your hands reached out, placing very deliberately on his knees, just shy of his elbows. “Want to make you feel good; just show me how you like it.”

The words were whispered, sending a small shiver down Jungkook’s spine. The earlier concerns about your sexual security in the relationship were long gone, replaced by the realization of your actual intentions.

You were teasing and gratifying him at the same time.

Fuck, how did he resist throwing you on to a bed and having his way with you for so long?

Very slowly, keeping his eyes on you as if you were going to pounce and chomp down on him, he returned to his slouching slump, hands bunching the hem of his shirt.

“I’d like anything you do to me.” He said finally.

“That’s nice, babe. I’d like to do what you want me to do.”

Fuck, Jungkook’s blood was racing, pounding through his ear drums. There was nowhere he could go, no where he could avert his eyes and by god…nothing more he wanted to do than fist your hair in his hands as you took his cock in your mouth.

“Okay,” He gritted his teeth, rubbing along the jean clad length of his thighs. “Okay.” He agreed.

Something glittered behind your eyes, something that he had been privy to for years now but was now on the receiving end of. It ignited a slow fire under his skin, flushing him with uncomfortable heat that signaled arousal.

He knew his cock was calling to her now, could almost hear its song, and he was absolutely sure you could.

He had this, he told himself.

You watched him headily, waiting his first instruction when you saw the same fire dancing behind his gaze that had made you approach him. You’d caught sight of him from his bedroom doorway, one hand fiddling with the remote and his leg bouncing.

Not the most alluring sight, you’d admit; but it was Jungkook. Would you be human if you didn’t find him absolutely delectable in any position?

And so, like a moth to his light, you drew closer, shucking off your trousers behind the couch.

“Unzip me, take it out.” He said and you blinked, accepting the first instruction and straightening.

Quick, eager fingers moved to the button of his jeans, deftly pulling the two sides of his pants together to undo the button, hooking your index around the zip to slide it down. Something nudged under your wrist and you couldn’t help but shoot me an impish grin.

Jungkook chuckled, his serious expression breaking like a storm cloud as he relaxed. His hips squirmed, rising up so you could pull the jeans and black briefs he wore down to the top of his thighs. The band constricted his legs, making him huff and tug them down lower till they were being kicked off completely, landing haphazardly somewhere behind you.

He watched your eyes run the length up his now naked legs, the muscles of his thighs flexing under the scrutiny when they paused at the one body part of his that required…no, needed, the attention right now. He wouldn’t be ashamed to confess, this whole thing was pretty damn exciting and it had reflected on his shaft, poking up and saluting you, infused with all his brain cells and then some.

“So,” His voice came out dry, gulping down saliva before trying again. “Um, touch it.”

Your pupils were blowing out, as you with no hesitation wrapped a hand around his base. Your grip was much looser than he was used to and he grunted in dissatisfaction. He looked at you, the twitch of your lips catching his attention.

“Tighter,” he ordered, a soft gasp escaping him when you immediately obeyed.

Minx, he laughed internally, you wanted him to be commanding? He’d give you what you wanted.

“Good girl,” He gave you a wide, all teeth showing grin when your eyes flashed up to him and fuck, he knew he’d hit the nail right on the head. “Now give it a tug.”

Your hand softened around the length, slowly rising up to the head before back down, repeating the action twice, thrice, four times. Jungkook let his head drop back, sighing in the relief of touch, of your touch. “Mm,” he glanced down at the dick, his head glistening with oozing precum and nodded at you. “Use it, make it wet before you use your mouth.”

The feeling of your thumb, rubbing along the softer, more sensitive head, dipping into the opening and collecting the near clear slick had him opening his mouth in a silent groan, feeling the pressure cause the liquid to drip down the shaft along with your hands, coating it in smoothness.

He looked down at you, your eyes fixed on his face, examining and relishing in each minute expression. His own eyes had completely blackened; the dark antelope eyes of his now blazing with restrained lust.

“Y/N,” His voice was hoarse, and he made no effort to appear cool and collected anymore. “Fuck, suck it. Please, take me in your mouth.”

Your gazes suspended for a full second, words no longer necessary. You kept your eyes on his, leaning in as slowly as you could, extending the period of anticipation for him when finally he could feel your hot breath waft across his glans. His eyes fluttered, unable to hold your eyes any further when you opened your mouth and deliberately placed the thick head on the very tip of your tongue.

It was experimental, being your first time sucking your new boyfriend and best friend’s dick. There was almost no taste of the skin itself, save for the near salty-sour combination of his precum. It flooded over your taste buds as you took him in deeper, pacing the inches, the width, finally letting it rest just at the back of your mouth, teasing your throat canal.

Over you, Jungkook had gone stiff. His eyes were closed, scrunched tightly, his big nose twitched, his bottom lip was gripped by his teeth so tightly you worried he’d bite it off.

You pulled his cock out, a ‘pop’ signaling him to grunt at the sudden loss of heat around him. He opened his eyes, looking at you.

“Relax, Kook,” You smiled, rubbing his head around the seal of your lips. “It’s just a blowjob.”

He so did not have this. Jungkook’s brain had short circuited, watching you with zero replies, zero retorts which was completely unlike him.

His eyes remained glazed when he saw you take him in again, deeper this time, your lips moving over the couple inches more that vanished inside the cavern of your hot mouth. He could feel your tongue laving over the vein on the underside of his cock, pressing onto the sensitive skin hard enough to send the jolt up to his diaphragm.

His hand moved, stroking over your head, feeling the smooth strands of your hair filter through his fingertips. The smell of your shampoo was in his nostrils, so familiar, so you and he wrapped a carefully collected bunch around his palm, examining the taut rein that he now held.

He had half a mind to yank, gently of course to not hurt or distract you from where you were still suckling on him but instead he chose to push you further down on him. He still had an eye on your face, taking in your sudden widening of the eyes and the parting of the mouth with satisfaction. He had one on you, he would’ve grinned – had your next move not scored you one more than him.

You dropped down on him with more force now, the tip of his cock brushing past the seam of your throat and straight past, breaching in. The muscles of your esophagus closed on him, further tightening in and Jungkook buckled under your hold, finally erupting in a restraint less moan that reverberated through the walls of the room and back to you. His hold tightened and slackened periodically, unable to make his mind to whether to guide you or just allow himself to be flooded away.

That one moan had you groaning as well, the feel of his copious slick coating your throat now having you close your own eyes and enjoying in just his sounds.

The taste of him, the musk of his skin surrounded you, invaded you and it felt so dirty but so enthralling, you wished for it to last forever. However, judging from the way Jungkook was squirming now, his hips canting and rolling to further get himself into you, mild thrusts accompanied by his grunting and groaning; you knew he was close.

His length throbbed, pulsated, engorging into your mouth itself, stretching your poor lips almost painfully but you’d be damned if you pulled him out now. Your hands catered to the rest of his length, slipping down to press down along his balls, tight and heavy from the building release you wanted deep in your throat.

“Babe – Baby – not going to last, god please,” His voice broke on the last syllable and you gave one final push to yourself, straining as you sunk down on him completely, your face almost burying into his lap.

And you gave one last, hard suck…

Jungkook came in a mess of trashing and choked expletives. His body arced off of the chair, nails digging into the arm rest and his feet bounced off the floor. His head bowed to his chests as he cursed heavily, none of them too coherent and you watched as his sweaty mop of hair flopped into his eyes. Thick streams of his release launched down your mouth, slipping down without even an effort to swallow while the rest painted across your lips and chin, dribbling over his clothes and skin as his violent climax nearly pushed you off of him.

You settled to rubbing your soiled hands over his length, set on milking out every drop of cum he had to offer, marveling when the rest of the clear, whitish liquid oodles out. He moaned at that, loud, swollen lips parting before he slumped back, boneless.

His fried brain didn’t stop him from grabbing onto you however, hold light around your wrist as he hauled you right off the floor and into his chest.

“Fuck; that was the best orgasm I’ve had in all my life and we didn’t even have sex yet.” He whispered; voice croaky from all the near screaming he did.

You laughed, your earlier bravado melting into shyness, your hands tugging at the sticky shirt that had become uncomfortable on your skin. You also needed to wash your hands.

“Kookie, let me up, I need a shower…and brush my teeth.” You tilted your own head against his, feeling him nuzzle against your chest for a moment, considering the request.

“Alright,” He huffed, releasing you so you could skip down the hall and shut yourself into his bathroom, leaving him behind to collect what wits he could find – an evil grin slipping onto his face at the prospect of returning the favor – before, his eyes drooped into a sated slumber.

[buckysgoldenheart]

Unexpectedly Bitten

Vampire!Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Your ex gets into some trouble with Vampires, and his mistakes lead the bloodsuckers back to you. After seeing you, one vampire gets a little attached and he’s taking his time deciding what he plans to do with you, but whatever it is, you’re not afraid. In fact, you might just be a little attached to him too.

Warnings: cursing, smut, violence. (Count on spelling mistakes or repeating words too often. it’s very likely.)

Notes: Folks I did my very very best. I am so bad at chaptered fics, it’s insane. But I tried. As always,  Let me emphasize this: there is little rhyme or reason to the way this story is broken into parts. 

This is a Vampire!Henry x Reader story where each chapter, while chronological, is a different conversation or event during the course of their evolving relationship. 

Words: 1606

Part 7: Change

You were breathing. That’s what Henry kept repeating in his head when he relived that horrible night in his sleep. His body would shoot out of bed, drenched in sweat, and he would have the agonizing thought that he failed. But then he would look to his left, and there you were. You were breathing.

His days were filled with watching you to constantly reassure himself that he hadn’t lost you forever. Every time your breath hitched in your sleep, his did as well. Every time he nearly dozed off in his chair, he shook himself awake for fear that the change hadn’t fully taken hold; that maybe he was too late after all.

“She doing any better?” Henry nearly leapt from his seat at Chris’s voice. His friend walked over after shutting the door quietly behind him.

Henry ran a hand down his face. He needed to relax. He was getting jumpy. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Chris pulled another chair up to Henry’s side and joined in monitoring the rise and fall of your chest. “Are you alright? It’s been a while.”

“This is my fault,” Henry rubbed at his brow with a groan. “I cut it too close. It’s taking too long for her to heal.”

“Do not hate yourself for this, Hen,” Chris said, lightly slapping his friend on the back. “She’s alright. I would’ve done the same if I still had a pretty little human I was so desperately in love with.”

“She’s not human anymore.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

Henry shook his head, denying his friend’s answer to feel the full weight of disappointment in himself. “Elias seemed to think the same, but…not from the same perspective.” He took a deep breath as he remembered the look in the Lord’s eyes right before he broke your neck. There was pity there; acknowledgment of a loss he knew Henry would not get over for centuries, if at all. “He didn’t think I would turn her. He left her body there, knowing I could turn her before it was too late, but he was so sure I wouldn’t. Why, do you think?”

“Henry,” Chris whined with irritation. “Don’t start—”

“Because we don’t subject the ones we love to this life,” Henry said as he stared at you, then he looked to Chris. “You never turned Amara. You loved her as a human until she died because you knew she would be miserable if she were like us.”

Chris swallowed the pain; the discomfort in his gut at the reminder of the woman he would’ve crushed mountains into rubble for. “I agree, this is not an ideal life, but…take it from me. When you’re in love with a human, there is nothing more painful than seeing them age without you.” The blond cleared his throat, and his voice shook slightly as he continued. “I couldn’t give Amara a normal life. I couldn’t marry her or give her children untainted by vampire blood like she wanted. So, I honored her wishes and let her go on to find that human she married. But don’t think for a second that if someone killed her when she was mine, that I wouldn’t have bitten her to save her too. It’s not wrong to save the ones we love, Henry.”

Henry grunted like the stubborn mule both you and his friend knew he was.

“Look, Amara is not Y/N,” Chris said, pushing his friend to see the best in the choices made the day you died. “Y/N was the first human to love a vampire in centuries. She saw you as more than what you are. Do not take advantage of that gift. She is now like us. You can have her forever. There was a time when I would’ve given anything to have the same.”

Henry rose an eyebrow. “So, I’m being an unappreciative prick, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” Chris smirked, taking a drink from his glass, and standing. “But I won’t hold it against you.”

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

You woke with a massive arm draped over your abdomen. It felt like a heavy brick and you couldn’t get enough air, so you blindly shoved at it until lifted. The bed shook as you deeply inhaled, swallowing oxygen the way you would if your head just broke the surface of the ocean and you could finally feel the air on your skin.

“Oh, thank fuck,” You heard whispered from your left as two massive hands cupped your cheeks and turned your head. “Open your eyes, baby.”

You tried and winced when the tiniest bit of light seeped in, slamming them shut again to avoid the headache.

“It’s ok,” The voice said. “It’s ok. Try again, just take it slow.”

You did as asked, bracing yourself for the pain of it but powered on, blinking a few times until your view came into focus. “Henry?”

Your voice was gravelly and felt itchy in your throat, but by the way Henry’s face lit up, it might as well have been the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Hey,” He smiled, running a hand over the top of your head. Tears welled in his eyes; the blue orbs darting all over your face as he stroked your hair. One of the droplets fell on your cheek and Henry quickly kissed it away.

His lips were warm, and you sighed into the feeling, suddenly sinking into the curve of his body as it lay against yours. “I feel like I died and rose again,” You groaned as you stretched your limbs the best you could, testing their limits to alleviate the stiffness.

“You’ll feel better soon.” Henry kissed your forehead. “It just takes a little time.”

You tilted your face back from where it was pressed against his hard chest to look up at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He grew uneasy, averting his gaze and shifting his body awkwardly without removing his arms from around you. “The, uh…transformation takes—”

“Transformation?” Your torso rose, surprisingly not aching the slightest.

Henry leaned up as well and cupped your cheek, savoring the feel of your skin in case you tried to kill him. You would have the strength for it now if you planned your attacks strategically. And if you hated him, he would accept your decision. He was selfish, after all, but he couldn’t let you go.

“Baby, you…you did die.” Your eyes widened and Henry internally cringed. “Elias killed you, and I bit you on, um…” He grabbed your wrist and brought it up to your face. “I bit your wrist. I changed you”

And sure enough, there were two faint dots on the inner side of your wrist; the marks shimmering to perfectly match the small cut on your finger.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

You looked at him. “Why?”

Henry moved to lay on his back. You could tell he was avoiding your eyes; that he was scared of your reaction to his next words. Crawling on top of him with unexpected ease, you straddled his waist and planted your hands firmly on his chest. You pressed down lightly, giving him a little jolt, when he had still hadn’t answered.

His eyes locked with yours and he wrapped his fingers around your forearms to keep your steady above him. “I just didn’t want to lose you. I’ve never been that scared in my life, and it made me—"

“No.” You shook your head. “Not why did you do it. I meant, why are you sorry you did? You want me, don’t you?” You didn’t ask for reassurance. You knew how he felt, but you wanted him to see that changing you was the only option if he wanted to be with you; and him wanting to have you would never be something you could punish him for. Being like him did not terrify you. It didn’t shock you into silence. Honestly, you didn’t feel all the different.

He sat up until you were face to face and wrapped his arms around your waist. One hands fingers trailed up and down the length of your spine. “More than anything.”

“Henry, I had nothing for me in that life,” You said as your hands settled on his shoulders. “Nothing.” Tipping your head down, you connected your lips and he moaned so deep his chest vibrated against yours.

“You’re really ok?” He asked when you pulled apart.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” You said.

A small laugh came out in the form of a puff of air, then he tucked his head down until his cheek was resting against your left breast. He sighed, but it came out more like a moan. “I love that sound.”

“You can still hear it?”

“Only when I’m this close,” He said, nipping at the skin and nuzzling into your chest. “You’ll just have to tell me how you feel about me from now on.”

You smiled, but then your face fell serious. “Henry?”

“Hmm?”

“What now?”

He pulled back as he took in a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. “Now the change fully takes hold. Your eyesight will increase, you’ll get stronger every day, your fangs will come in soon, and you’ll hate it because you’re going to be biting your tongue fifteen times a day for about a week.”

You grimaced, but chuckled.

“There are a few other things, but we’ll deal with them as they come, not now. Other than that, not much else,” He said, framing your face with his hands. “You’re mine now, baby. And I’m yours.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Just like that.” He grinned and pressed his lips to yours.

---

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[gallickingun]

legacy || dragon prince!kirishima

SUMMARY: After an arranged marriage to the Prince of Dragons, Kirishima Eijirou, you decide you do not want to live your life in a loveless relationship, so you attempt to get to know him. After some time, you realize that he was keeping something very important from you. How are you supposed to help him if he won’t come clean?

PAIRING: Dragon Prince!Kirishima x Princess!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, breeding kink (so much breeding), etc. WORD COUNT: 13.5k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

Author’s Note: This is a prompt fill for THESE prompts that I just couldn’t chill out with. I didn’t want this to get confused with @makoodles​ Dragon Dick Kiri! This Kirishima has normal anatomy 👀 but go give her’s a read as well, it’s so frickin’ good. 

༶•┈⛧ ┈♛ ♛ ┈⛧┈•༶

An arranged marriage to the Prince of Dragons wasn’t how you saw the start of the rest of your life going.

You expected to have more time before you would be called to responsibility, to the throne, to your people. You wanted to live your life, to frolic through the meadows and taste the sweet mead drinks the cooks are always going on about. You wanted to be free.

You did not want to find yourself forced into a white dress, a bunch of flowers in your hand, as you recite the sacred betrothal vows to a man you’ve never met before.

His name is Kirishima Eijirou.

At least he’s handsome.

And beyond his good looks, Kirishima has a charming air about him as well. He is kind to all the servants and never asks for their help unless it’s entirely required. He even goes so far as to request separate bedrooms for the two of you, knowing exactly what might be expected of you if you were to sleep together.

When you approached him about it, he bowed his head, “I know that you did not enter this matrimony by choice, milady. I would hate to force you into anything you did not ask for.”

You would be lying if you denied that your heart skipped a beat.

Kirishima makes himself useful around the castle, tending to the gardens with the other landscapers, using his enhanced strength and hard, scaly skin to chop down trees and uproot stumps. He even brings the ladies in the kitchen spices from other parts of the kingdom and animals that the other hunters had not been able to slay.

His fierce instincts and amazing strength have made him quite the match for the kingdom; almost as if he were exactly what you needed. The citizens have never been more excited for a new king to rise, practically salivating as Kirishima passes through the town on his daily walks. You watch on from your tower window, leaning over the edge of the cobblestone to squint as you make out his bulky frame mounting a horse and exiting the castle gates.

Many a night passes and you feel uneasy at the distance between you. He is your husband, and yet you are sure that you have not had a conversation lasting more than a few syllables with him. You are sure that even the commoners know him better than you do.

Everyone in the kingdom adores Kirishima, although they could care less for the mouthy knight he’s brought along with him. A blonde, stout man you’ve come to know as Bakugou Katsuki. He is Kirishima’s protector and right-hand, following him around like a shadow, throwing his opinions and criticisms out with little care to the sensitive ears they may fall upon.

“Bakugou?” you ask one afternoon, crossing your arms as you stand beside him, Kirishima helping to dig trenches using his scaled, hardened hands. You tilt your head to consider the blonde, your irises finding a crimson color, harsh and unbending, much unlike your betrothed’s warm gaze, “Does Kirishima care for me?”

His throat bobs and a strangled sound comes from it, “Excuse me?”

“Kirishima keeps his distance from me,” you muse, licking your lips as you turn from him to focus on the man you find yourself fascinated with even more as each day passes. “I just want to know if he is uncomfortable around me.”

“That’s one word for it.”

You unceremoniously smack his arm, “Stop being belligerent and answer me!”

“Bloody hell,” Bakugou takes a step away from you, “yes, Kirishima is uncomfortable around you, but not for the reason you think, wench.”

Your narrowed eyes spur him to speak again, “He thinks fondly of you, if that’s what you wish to know. Eijirou just has a strange way of showing it. Now, can we please stop talking about this emotional shit?”

There is no answer from your lips, only the absence of your presence at his side. Bakugou huffs out a relieved sigh and watches as you hitch your skirt up and run towards his friend and ruler. He shakes his head when you stumble into Kirishima’s arms, rolling his eyes as he begins his afternoon patrol of the grounds.

“Whoa,” the prince’s arms are sturdy as he catches you before you can face plant into the trench he’s dug, “are you okay?”

Your body relishes in the warmth he provides, fingers clinging onto his shoulders, feeling the ridges of the hard, corded muscle beneath you, “Y-Yes, I am fine! I need to ask you something, though.”

“Yes, Princess?” Kirishima, ever the gentleman, holds you steady, guiding you back to some sense of normalcy. He is fighting a smile at your bedraggled appearance, the corners of his lips twitching as he looks down his nose at you, the black metal guard around his face making his features even more sharp.

The core of you churns with molten lava at the sight of his handsome features, the tendrils of smoke from the sloshing heat curling up your throat until it forces your mouth open, “W-Would you like to go for a picnic?”

Kirishima has never looked more surprised and amused. His hand absentmindedly rubs over your elbow and bicep, sending small jolts of electricity through to your bones until you can feel them rattling around in the cage of your body. He stutters when he speaks, “A-A picnic? As in, eating together? A-Alone?”

“Yes,” you flush, your cheeks burning brightly at the confession, “I think we’ve earned a little time away, don’t you think?”

His face goes the same color as his hair, his pink tongue passing over his lower lip as he considers you, shifting uncomfortably from foot-to-foot as he chooses his words wisely, “Princess, you don’t have to humor me. I know my place.”

“Your place is with me,” you bolster your spine so you can look him in the eyes, barely distracted by the small scales that cover his temples and jawline. “And I want to know my husband. Is that a crime? Shall you have me thrown in the dungeon?”

The black pupils in the center of his orbs dilate, his shoulders shifting as he considers your words and your tone. Kirishima shakes his head after he’s processed what you’re saying, taking a step closer so your chest almost brushes his when you take heaving breaths, “No, I think it sounds like a wonderful idea. How does veal and fruit sound?”

“Like heaven.”

It is not much later in the afternoon when Kirishima stops by the stables to collect you, a woven wicker basket cradled in one of his hands, full to the brim with a plethora of things hidden under the lid. He packs the basket and a few blankets onto the backside of the horse that he brought with him when he merged his belongings with yours. He pats the horse’s backside, “All right, Red. Be nice. This is the princess you’re carrying.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with your palm as you step forward. Your free hand brushes over Red’s snout and down her mane, “And that’s the prince, you know. Precious cargo.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got my thick skin,” he shrugs, reaching out a hand for you to take, “plus Red knows I’m the one with the sugar cubes, so she’ll be sweet on me.”

Your palm rests in his as you stride towards him, the proximity of your bodies now intoxicating as his natural heat radiates between the two of you. The base of your throat bobs as emotion gathers in your esophagus, cutting off your breathing. Your eyes flutter somewhere between open and closed when you try to look at him directly, unable to focus when he’s so close to you.

Kirishima is no small man, your eye-level meeting his collarbones. His hands dwarf yours easily, his stout body thick with muscle and sinew, dense bones holding him together. You suppose it’s thanks to his animalistic ancestry.

Each kingdom descended from some form of ancient animal, and Kirishima’s was the dragons. And so, he inherited the qualities of that very beast, starting with his intense body heat and the scales that litter his skin in small patches. They are black in color at a first glance, but when he shifts beneath the sunbeams, you notice they have a red iridescence to them. You are thankful to find that he has no tail or snout, saving those features for a much more human-looking set.

Kirishima rests his palms on your hips, almost able to wrap his digits completely around the circumference of your waist as he hoists you onto his horse. His quaking digits roam down the thick of your thigh, thumbs brushing up against the skin to treasure it. You have to stop yourself from keening into his touch, seeming desperate, by white knuckling your hands around the saddle.

He clambers up after you, slinging one leg before propping himself up to rest behind you. Leaning forward, he grabs the reigns, his chest pressing firmly into your back. You force yourself to regulate your breathing, the scent and feel of him making your head dizzy. Kirishima scoots forward and the curve of his crotch is pressing into your spine as he spurs Red forward with a gentle slap of the reigns.

You squeal, your hands instinctively reaching out to wrap around his forearms, the tips of your fingers dragging over the dark scales he sports at the junctures of his arms. His muscles twitch under your touch and your breath hitches. The bottom of his chin is hovering just above your shoulder, his cheek threatening your personal space while his chest falls flush with your back, “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” you manage an awkward laugh, blinking to clear your vision. “Sorry, I just wasn’t ready.”

Kirishima holds the reigns in one hand, using the other to wrap around your waist, effectively silencing you as your heart beats heavy in your chest, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

It is easy to melt back into him, a shuddering breath making your shoulders shake. You rest your hands over the top of his thick arm, thumbs finding his veins and bones to trace while you wait for your end destination to come in sight. You avoid paying too close attention to the ebony scales that glimmer in the afternoon sun, shifting from black to red when you look acutely.

The sun is setting when he finally stops Red at the edge of a lake, golden glow shining from the surface of the water and making it difficult to see. Kirishima helps you down before grabbing the picnic basket and tying Red up around the trunk of a tree. In the meantime, you work at setting out the blanket on the ground, tugging out the corners so it’s fully splayed open.

Conversation flows easy for the two of you as you lay out on the ground, face turned toward the sun as is sinks lower in the afternoon sky. You close your eyes and drink in the sunbeams, your hands tucked behind your head. Kirishima is waving his hands around, holding grapes between one set of fingers and a slice of bread in the other.

You laugh, a full-bellied giggle that you have not felt in what seems like years. When the laughter settles, you turn your head to see Kirishima already looking down at you, a soft but sad expression tugging on his features. You tilt your head, blinking a few times before asking him, “What is on your mind?”

“Why are you doing this?” he blurts unabashedly.

The inside of your mouth turns to ash, as if you’ve licked the inside of the oven and can’t get the taste off of your tongue. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and reach a hand up to rub at your face as nerves start to eat away at your belly.

“Can a princess not have a picnic with her husband?” Your voice has risen an octave and it’s obvious he notices because he leans in further, as if silently asking you to further explain. You huff, rolling your eyes, “I just want to get to know you, Kirishima. If we’re to be wed for the rest of our lives, don’t you think we should learn a little about one another?!”

Kirishima sits up straighter, his eyes unable to find a part of you to focus on as his gaze wanders. You turn on your side, reaching out to press your palm to his thigh, but he halts you with his warm touch and saddened words, “I assumed you would have nothing to do with me. Arranged marriages aren’t usually filled with companionship.”

You lean forward, your mouth against his knuckles as you exhale, “I think we’d like each other if we had the chance, arranged marriage or not.”

A silence hangs in the air, Kirishima’s hand heavy beneath yours. You feel the muscles in his leg twitch as your thumb brushes down over his shin. It’s like you are waiting sparks to ignite in midair and take the both of you down, the imminent danger of his response sending a burning chill down your spine. You fear you may have misjudged him, or perhaps his companion misspoke with the intent to turn the two of you against one another.

“Kirishima,” you try again, sitting up on your knees so you can look him in the eyes much easier, “listen, I-”

His thumb against your lower lip gives you pause, your eyes crossing as you try to look down at the offending digit. Kirishima looks up at you, a glimmer in his vermilion irises, “I want you to call me Eijirou.”

Your heart stops beating within your chest at the admission of his given name. You had heard Bakugou say it, and of course when you learned who you would be marrying, you were informed of the nomenclature. However, you never assumed that you would be gifted the privilege to use it so soon.

“Eijirou,” you test it out on your tongue, rolling the name around like honey, “I like that.”

A smile tugs on the corners of his lips and you see the faintest brush of dimples. You lean your body forward to press a kiss to his cheek, just barely brushing the corner of his mouth, “Nice to meet you, Eijirou. I’m your wife.”

He chuckles, reaching out to shake your hand, “Pleased to make your acquaintance. How do you do?”

“I’d be doing much better with some berries between my teeth,” you lean back, brushing your thumb over the back of his palm, “but I’m doing just fine, now that I’ve got you.”

The smile on Kirishima’s face puts the sunshine to shame.

༶•┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

It had been months since that picnic by the lake, and you and Kirishima had grown rather close. He chases your lips behind closed doors and your hands are insatiable as they roam his body beneath his tunic. You know the taste of his skin by heart, and he knows the innermost parts of you better than you do.

So him pulling away now has you perplexed.

You pace back and forth in front of his private chambers, the place where he is allowed to go when he needs to contemplate war plans and farming plots and taxation of the citizens. However, he has been holed up behind the thick wooden door for six days straight, and you know that something is wrong.

Bakugou is posted up in front of the door, a mess of limbs as he whittles away at a slab of wood, working on turning it into something much more intricate. His head raises so he can roll his eyes at your unease, “Relax, Princess. He’ll be out of there in another week or two.”

“What does that even mean?!” you snap, your eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. You feel yourself breaking from the inside out – you thought you had made so much progress, that maybe you and Kirishima were really moving forward, learning how to co-habitate and rule together. Your voice is crazed and you throw your palms face-up towards the knight, “Weeks? This is absurd!”

You narrow your eyes at the door like it has wronged you, keeping you from your lover, and you are barreling towards it before Bakugou can stop you.  

“Eijirou!”

Bursting through the door, you’re surprised to find that he is not sitting at his desk, pouring over world maps and charts. Rather, he’s not anywhere to be seen at all. You shut and lock the door behind you just as Bakugou has gotten to his feet, narrowing your eyes at him as it clicks shut.

You hear a whimpering sound off in the distance, and you follow it.

There is a secluded area you know is hidden behind the bookshelf – a secret room built by your father so he can escape even the already secretive confines of his study. You pull the familiar lever at the base of the bookcase and the entire structure begins to shudder as the door is opened. A familiar head of red hair is lowered, his chin to his chest as sobs rack his body, broad shoulders shaking as he sniffles.

“Eiji?” your voice is quiet, afraid to disrupt the moment. He is bare at the torso, his hands cradled in front of him, but you can only make out the muscled expanse of his back, “Eijirou, why are you-”

“I-I didn’t want you in here,” he mumbles through labored breaths. When he turns his head you can make out the glistening tears running down his face, “Y-You smell so strongly and I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Excuse you?” Your voice is more of a bark than a question, stepping further into the small space so you’re stood beside him, “I smell? You could have just told me, for Christ’s sakes, Eiji-holy shit.”

Your eyes are drawn to the center of his hips, where he’s currently cradling his cock between his hands. The head of it is engorged and blushed, leaking pearlescent fluid that leaks down the shaft, coating one of the more prominent veins on the underside. Your throat bobs at the sight of him, taking in his girth with your own two eyes, trying to rationalize why you’d never seen his lower body without clothing until just now.

“I-I’m sorry, listen, it’s just…” Kirishima is in tears, his voice strained as he stands to his feet, “I-I’m in a fucking rut and it’s horrible and you shouldn’t have to witness it, let alone be a part of it. I wanted to wait it out in here so I could stay away from you.”

You step closer to him, your hands hovering in midair as you’re not sure which part of him to grab for first. Your entire anatomy is on fire at the visual of his thick cock leaking pre and throbbing with the need to spill his seed. The base of him leads way to a set of weighty balls, and you can only imagine the sheer amount of come that he has stored up in them.

“Stay away from me? Eiji,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He recoils, another sniffle as he turns his head, but you persist regardless, “Am I not your wife? Is this not my job?”

He stands to his feet, his trousers taut against his thighs as he tries to pull them back up his legs, “Exactly! This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you! It’s not a job, Princess, nothing in this realm should ever feel like a job. It should be fun, and I can promise you this won’t be fun for you.”

“Rut?” you redirect the conversation, coming to stand in front of him with your hand on his wrist to keep him from pulling his pants back over his cock. “Wh-Tell me what that means, exactly?”

Kirishima inhales deeply, his chest expanding, and then reaches down to take his dick in his hand, stroking it once to show you the length of it, “It’s whatever part of me is intertwined with dragon, I have these annual cycles where I’m drawn to my-fuck, this is so strange to say out loud-my mate.”

You want to reach down to hold his throbbing length in your hands but the look in his eyes says that he isn’t done. Kirishima gulps as he looks across at you, glittering ruby eyes filled to the brim with emotion, “It’s a mating cycle, outside of that I’m not really sure. I go into a rut for a couple of weeks each year, ever since I went through the change, and my body has this intense desire to impregnate a mate.”

The talk coming from him is oddly arousing, and you find yourself growing slick between your thighs. You hover closer to him now, the head of his cock brushing up against your belly as your hands start to roam over his bare chest, “Please, show me what you need, whatever it is, and I’ll help you. You’re in pain, Eijirou.”

He winces on cue, turning his head before you can see the extent of his discomfort. Kirishima shakes his head, “Listen, I-I’ve been doing this alone for years, I can handle it.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to!” You try and reason with him, reaching up to take his cheeks in your hands, redirecting his attention, “I’m your wife, Eijirou.”

A tear wells up in either of his eyes, making his irises look like they are glittering in the candlelight of the secret room, “Yes, but you’re not my mate.”

Those few words topple you over like a horse has just run over your chest. The breath has been knocked out of you, stolen from your lungs, and you take a step back to steady yourself before you fall. Kirishima’s eyesight falters as he realizes what he’s just said, but he makes no move to correct himself. Rather, he stands taller, straightening his spine like he’s ready to go to war, to lead thousands of men into a battle he’s not sure he can win.

You have a choice to make now – you can stand here and fight, or you can flee through the secret passage and hide in your own chambers until his rut is over.

“Eijirou,” you grit your teeth, tears flowing down your cheeks, and look him in the eyes, “I’m not leaving you.”

Fight it is, then.

Kirishima looks stunned, so you take advantage of his stillness to rush at him, cupping his face with your hands and bruising his lips in a kiss. His hips roll forward and his cock is sheathed between your thighs, so you squeeze yourself tight around him, grabbing at his wrists before he can pull himself away. The whimper he lets loose from his mouth is wanton, his body practically shivering with the need to swallow you whole.

You kiss him until he’s shaking, his hands white-knuckled as he bars himself from grabbing every inch of your body like his primal nature pushes him to. When you pull away from him, you look up into his eyes and see hesitation keeping his pupils dilated to where you can still make out his crimson irises.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I-I can’t do that to you, not now, not when I think-”

He stops himself before he finishes his sentence, but in your heart, you know what he’s going to say. You smile, praying that he receives some warmth and comfort from the gesture, and brush your thumbs against his wrists where you hold his hands by his sides, “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

It’s as if he’s resigned himself to this truth, that you will not leave unless he forces you, and he does not believe that it’s his place to coerce you into doing anything you haven’t already decided for yourself. Kirishima stands tall and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if taking in the moment. You hear him count a few numbers in an ancient dialect before he peels back his lids and his darkened eyes meet yours, lust swirling around like thunderclouds and his irises have deepened to a maroon shade.

“Are you sure?” he asks, one final time, hands still by his sides, “Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

That sentence alone is enough to send a chill down your spine.

You nod, trying not to seem too eager by keeping your feet flat to the ground, “Yes, Eijirou, please. I want you to do whatever you need to, please use me.”

The sound of your voice so willing and wanton makes Kirishima’s blood run hot in his veins, thudding against his ears until he can hardly hear anything else. He steps forward, his chest flush with yours, and his shaking hands finally make contact with your body.

He is insatiable when he finally grabs a hold of you, palming at you like an animal. Kirishima captures your mouth in a searing kiss, moaning as soon as your lips part in a gasp. He backs you into the desk he was sitting against when you first came in, your ass knocking against the wood in his haste. A low growl bubbles up in his chest until he nips at your lower lip and you whimper, then the sound fades to a moan.

“Fuck, Princess,” he whispers hoarsely, eyes already blitzed out as he looks down at you, “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes are wide as you blink up at him, your fingers in his hair to sift through the dark red strands. You find yourself nodding your head eagerly, squirming up onto the top of the desk to give him a better angle. Kirishima smiles wide enough that you can see his sharper canines, gums bared as he grins. He lowers himself to his knees, and something about seeing him in such a vulnerable position makes your head spin.

Kirishima pushes the hem of your skirt up and over your thighs, bunching up the material in one hand as the other parades over your soft undergarments. He visibly shivers when the pad of his middle finger brushes over the wet patch on the fabric, his tongue parting his lips as he dampens them.

He mutters a string of ancient curse words in a dialect you cannot comprehend, but it still arouses you, nonetheless. You help him with your dress, tucking it behind your back, before reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer to your core.

You give him a soft, “Eiji, please,” before you hear the tearing of fabric, and your cunt is bared to the cold air.

A gasp parts your lips, but you throw your head back when his tongue first makes contact with your slick folds. You whine into the air, the sound dying out as it travels, and your grip in his hair tightens to a pressure that should be painful, but his thick skin gives him a better barrier for pain.

Kirishima hums against your clit, running the coarse pad of his tongue over the sensitive bud before diving back into your sopping core. He moans as your taste coats his tongue, bringing one of his hands up to your belly so he can brush his thumb along your clit for further stimulation, the coarse feeling of his scaled elbow grating over your thigh giving you goosebumps. His free set of fingers dig into every part of your leg that he can find, roaming from your calves to your thighs to your ass, kneading the plush skin beneath his hardened fingertips.

You clench around his tongue, the thick muscle stimulating even the deepest parts of you. You mewl out his name, uncaring as to how loud you’re being, which only seems to spur him on, the pace of his tongue quickening as his thumb grinds mercilessly against your clit. You cant your hips upward against his mouth, begging for even more friction, and he chuckles, the sound sending reverberating pleasure through your core.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Kirishima’s voice is gentle as he turns his attention to your thighs, kissing the innermost parts as he slips a thick finger between your folds, “I want you to come undone for me, yeah? Think you can do that?”

A nod brings your vision back down to him, to look into his eyes as you rock against his knuckles. He bares his teeth to your thigh before sucking your supple skin between his lips. The combination of pleasure from your cunt mixed with the pain from his biting and sucking of your thigh brings you closer to your high, your vision blurred by ecstasy. You moan, tightening every muscle in your body in hopes that it will push you over the edge, but Kirishima’s hand runs over your taut skin in a soothing motion, rubbing the pads of his fingers deep into your muscles as if to try and calm you down.

“Relax,” he kisses over the dark red mark now splotched against your thigh, “I’ve got you, I’m gonna take care of you.”

You believe him, between his earnest expression and the honest hoarseness behind his words. You swallow thickly, forcing the growing lump in your throat back down into your chest. The contours of your body are less noticeable once you’ve eased your muscles, and Kirishima takes it as a sign for him to quicken the pace of his fingers in your pussy, leaning forward to suck at your clit with his teeth and tongue.

He can feel your walls tightening as he stretches you out with another finger, the spongy texture of your insides giving away the closeness to your end. Smirking around your skin, Kirishima hums, sending you crashing carelessly towards your orgasm.

The sound of his name falling obscenely from your lips makes his cock harden and twitch between his legs. He grunts as he ruts forward against your shin, the head of his dick smearing pre-come against your smooth skin. You suck in a breath at the feeling, falling forward so your lips are in his hair, whispering murmurs of praise and begging as you feel your core writhe with pleasure.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, hearing your whines from above, “c’mon, Princess, come for me.”

You do as your told, the glutinous walls within you coated with your arousal, milky fluid seeping from your body until it has coated his palm. Kirishima reaches up with his clean hand to thread it through your hair, pulling you gently so he can stand to his feet. You watch as he pumps his cock with the palm that is slick with your silvery strands of spend, the head of him engorged and angry red in color. Your mouth salivates at the thought of him splitting you wide open with the thick girth of him, and for a moment you’re unsure if you’ll be able to take him as easily as you originally believed.

Kirishima wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you to him so he can hoist you off of the desk and walk you towards the small bed staggered in the corner of the room. He lowers you down easily, the rippling muscles of his biceps drawing your eye as he strains himself to keep you safe. You lean up and kiss him on the mouth, swallowing his growling sounds into the recesses of your throat so they may thrum up and down your spine, sending a second shock-wave towards your core.

You notice that Kirishima is eyeing a very specific point on your throat as he leans back onto his thick thighs, taking in your already weakened body. You reach up and palm at his chest, redirecting his attention to your eyes, “Eijirou, what is it?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, leaning down to kiss up from your navel to your chest, “you��re just beautiful.”

His words make your body blush from head to toe, your feet curling up as he shuffles himself out of his pants. You take the moment to hoist your dress over your head, both of your clothes left in a pile on the floor as you reconnect your bodies with a kiss.

Something about this time makes his skin hotter to the touch, you notice, and his muscles are practically ripping at the seams, threatening to bust out if he tries any harder to keep himself restrained. You lick at the fullness of his lower lip, “Eijirou, I need you. Please.”

The pleading nature of your voice only feeds his feral nature, the instinctive side of him wanting to rip you to shreds until you’re screaming his name, crying fat tears as he presses into you and fills you to the brim with his spend. Kirishima has to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off the primal need that stirs him, instead focusing on the way his heart beats faster when you’re around, and how the glimmer in your eyes never ceases to amaze him.

Kirishima angles his hips backward so he can push the tip of his cock between your sopping heat, his restraint feathering out the deeper he slides into you. A gentle gasp from your lips stops him, his hips stilled as he peels his eyes open to look down at you, “A-Am I hurting you?”

“No, fuck, Eijirou, I want you,” you scramble to grab at whatever part of him you can find, fingernails digging roughly into his biceps, “I need you in me, I need you to take me. I’m yours.”

That is the last straw to break the proverbial camel’s back. Kirishima sheathes his cock within your heat with one smooth stroke, the stretch of your tight pussy making the shaft of his dick throb noticeably. You reel forward, your forehead smacking into his chest at the sudden obtrusion from within you. Your body takes over then, trying your hardest to kiss and lick and touch any patch of skin that is close enough.

The prince wraps an arm around your back, holding you sturdily with a palm splayed out between your shoulders, easily keeping you in place as he starts to jut his hips forward, “So fuckin’ tight, angel, such a good little girl, takin’ my cock like this. Fuck I want to-”

He stops himself by dropping his forehead to your shoulder, whining as his thick cock pounds repeatedly into your pussy. You grab at his hair to pull him away from you, desperate to look him in the eyes, “Eiji, tell me.”

There are tears settled in the corners of his irises with the desperate need for more that his body cries out for. Kirishima shakes his head and kisses you on the mouth, nails biting into your back as his cock makes your insides keen. He loses himself in the stretch of you, the tightness of your core making his whole body boil, his skin teeming with sweat as he rucks into you.

“Damnit,” he whimpers as you clench around him, drawing his dick back into your core as he tries to snap his hips backward, “I want to breed you, so fuckin’ bad, Princess.”

It is like he expects you to retreat once he’s said it, as if the thought of it might scare you off. On the contrary, all it does is spur you forward. You kiss him like your life depends on it, rolling your hips up to meet his until he is stroking the hidden part of you near your spine, the head of his cock inflamed and beading with pre-come even as he’s buried to the hilt within you.

The weight of his balls is more intense now, throbbing with his seed, slapping into your ass as he ruts forward, taking your body and molding it with his intentions. You hiss as the veins forking along the underside of his cock drag salaciously against your folds, but he merely takes advantage of the parting of your lips to delve his tongue into your mouth. He maps out each of your molars and then down to the back of your throat, moans spoken into the confines of your jaws so that the world may never hear them, only you.

You know that you are going to have to be the one to tell him that this is okay, that you want him to destroy your body with his touch. Every hair stands on end, even with him holding back, and you can only imagine how worked your bones will feel once he’s actually given you his all. Kirishima is feverish around you, hot and sweating as he works the both of you towards the point of coming undone. You relinquish yourself from his kiss, leaning your head back so you can look him in the eyes.

“Breed me, Eijirou,” your voice is hoarse when you speak, near cracking as you beg him, desperate tears glittering in the corners of your eyes, “I want you to fill me up with your come, please. Stuff me full of it.”

Kirishima’s palm rests at your abdomen, and you notice it for the first time. You wonder what is going through his mind; if he is thinking about the way his cock fills your stomach, or if he is plagued by the idea of you full with his child, pregnant and swollen at the navel. He rubs the heel of it over the expanse of your belly, finding every available patch of skin to caress with his touch, the hardened tips of his fingers raking thin red lines into your skin.

A part of you wants them to never go away, marking you as his, letting all the others know who you belong to.

“I want your baby, Eiji. Won’t you give me one?” Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure if this is how he wants this night to go. You lick your lips and look up at him bashfully, tiny tear tracks spilled over your cheeks in rivulets, “I want you to breed me full, Eijirou. I want you to fill up my cunt with your seed until I’m dripping, please, won’t you?”

Your begging mixed with his feral desire brings his teeth down to your neck, bared but not piercing, not yet. He whimpers as he slips his mouth closed, nosing over the area, licking at it like an animal, “You’d be so pretty when you’re full of me, absolutely beautiful.”

You turn your head so you can kiss him on the temple, feeling his hesitation beneath the pads of your fingers, “I’m your wife, Eiji, but I want to be your mate, too.”

A strangled sound is mangled in his throat, but he pulls away from you to look you in the eye nonetheless, “Wh-What are…Princess, listen, I don’t want you to think-”

“I love you.”

His irises engulf his pupils as his eyes widen, stuttering breaths parting his lips. His gaze is frantic, unable to find one part of your face to hone in on, the three words that you’ve uttered into the air giving him serious pause. His heart starts pumping furiously in his chest, threatening to beat right out of the cage of his ribs if he isn’t careful to calm it.

You are frightened that you’ve been too honest, that you’ve bared your soul too far and there is no coming back. Fear forces your words down into your chest, unable to cry out an apology at going too far too soon. Your hands on his arms pull away, digging into the sheets so you have something to take out your inner turmoil on.

“Y-You want…” Kirishima shakes his head, swallowing thickly so his throat bobs, “You want me?”

The incredulous snort that makes your nostrils flare cannot be contained. You look down to where he is balls deep in your cunt, and then back up to hold his gaze, “Eijirou, is that really even a question?”

He’s stuttering out some sort of response, but you can’t be bothered to listen, so you drag him forward by the nape of his neck, cementing your mouth to his. You wrap your legs around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into the firm muscle of his ass to pull him back to you, to encourage his movements. Kirishima is tentative this time, unsure of himself but his animalistic nature still brings him back to pump his cock within your heat.

“I love you,” you murmur into his lips, twirling your fingers through his hair, “if you love me too, then I want whatever you have to offer, whatever you need to give me so I can finally be yours.”

With every word you speak, the animal gnawing at the back of Kirishima’s consciousness grows less tame. It is begging, with claws at his throat, to take you for all you’re worth, until you’re bone dry and pleading for him to relinquish you. He bares his teeth and the instinct curling around his spine, making him seem stronger, wider, somehow gives way to the true nature of this rut he’s told you about.

It’s a mixture of excitement and fear, and you feel a rush of heat flood your core.

Kirishima groans, gnashing his teeth as he drops his head so your foreheads are pressed to one another. You can sense he’s still holding back, still a touch embarrassed, so you knead your fingers into the tops of his shoulders, begging with the touch of his muscles for him to claim you once and for all.

“Kiri,” your voice is strong even though you’re whispering, “what do you want to do to me? Don’t you want me?”

“Fuck, of course I do,” Kirishima kisses you soundly on the mouth, as if he must reassure you, as if you were doubting him. “I want you, every day for the rest of my life. B-But I can’t…a mate is for life, angel.”

The way he says it suggests that you don’t already know, or that it may come as a surprise to you. You smile, wrapping your arms around his back so you can lean up, arching your spine so your torsos are flush with one another. You’ve never felt the desire to be so close to someone, but it is as if this is not even close enough. You wish there were a better way to prove to him that he is the end of the line for you, that you could never want anyone else.

“I love you,” you repeat, palming the corded muscle of his back as if it might pump the confession into him by the osmosis of your sweat, “You are the first thing I want to see in the morning when I wake, and the last thing I gaze at in the night before I fall asleep. You are the end to all my beginnings, Eijirou.”

Kirishima groans at your confession, his needy body unable to create the same kind of eloquent response as he holds his hips still, unwilling to ruin your beautiful moment. His nose brushes along the bridge of yours, a question lodged in his throat and unwilling to be bared. You nudge the bow of your lips against his cheek, murmuring kind praises into his ear, “Tell me what you want, what you need, Eijirou. I want to give it to you, whatever it is.”

“C-Can I mark you?” his voice is bedraggled, just on the cusp of breaking.

“Please,” you ask of him, craning your head so your neck is available. “I want to be yours, and I want everyone else to know.”

It seems that is all the encouragement he needs, baring his fanged teeth to the thin skin of your neck, tongue tracing over your jugular as he prepares the area for his biting kiss. He nudges his nose against your earlobe, that same ancient tongue from earlier sending a shiver down your spine as he speaks.

You are not prepared for the searing pain that rips through your body when he finally tears into you. A cry parts your lips and your cunt squeezes him so tightly that he almost slips from within you. Your hand rips through his hair, the other occupied with his shoulder, nails bludgeoning his hardened skin until you draw blood. You want to throw your head back but you know that will only make it all worse, his teeth will shred your skin until you are but a flayed piece of meat lying beneath him.

“Kiri,” you whine, turning your head to nestle you lips into the edge of his hair that curls around his ear, kissing at whatever surface you can find.

He hums in response, unable to give you words as he sucks and pulls at the skin. You feel your mind cloud the longer he has dug into you, the tendrils of need writhing around your cerebrum until you can no longer think clearly. The one thing on your mind is the very thing between his legs, and you whisper words of want into his ear, praying that he can hear you through his animalistic marking.

The palm of his hand digs further into your belly, until he can feel the tip of his cock underneath his fingers. Kirishima growls around your neck, the timbre of his voice shaking your very bones. You swallow, dipping your fingers further into the skin of his shoulders, “Kirishima, move.”

His hips are listening even if he does not give an indication that he’s heard you. He uses his hands to prop up your legs, the tips of his digits bruising your skin with their intensity, until your knees are almost parallel with the mattress. The only reason they aren’t digging into your chest is because he’s still slotted there, gnashing away at the sensitive skin of your neck. His body is lumbering and thick, dense from his neck to his ankles.

Kirishima makes you feel small, in every sense of the word. Even as a princess, you did not feel dainty, you’ve never been a precious flower that someone else has to protect. You’ve always stumbled a little, faltered when you should be standing upright, and your parents have had to reprimand you for your unladylike tendencies more than once.

But here, lying underneath his hulking form, your fingers seem tinier, more elegant, and even as your knees dig into his ribs, he does not falter, does not wince. You cannot put him in pain, between his hard exterior and his intense primal nature, and it makes you feel like a porcelain doll.

And once his cock plunges back within your tight, wet heat, you are reminded of how massive he truly is.

The tip of his cock butterflies you wide open, shattering your limited stretch and prying you open with each quivering inch of his thick girth. He overwhelms you, so much so that your head topples backward to dig further into the pillow, as if running away from him might soothe the ache between your legs. Even that is a mistake, because once you’ve shifted, his teeth scrape down the sensitive skin of your collarbones, angry red marks left in their wake.

He leans back to examine his hard work, eyes roaming the juncture of your neck and shoulder where the shape of his teeth is like a shadow. A guttural growl emanates from his throat, the air sparking with electricity at the sound of it. You swallow the thick, pent-up arousal in your throat and breathe heavily, somewhat thankful to be rid of his mouth even though a part of you would frenetically like to bring it back. Your throat is throbbing, and you think you could count the number of teeth he was able to sink into you based on the pain of it alone.

“Princess,” he gasps as he takes in the pulsating mark now claiming you as his, “I-I’m sorry, d-did I-”

You shake your head and pull at him in every way possible, your body crying out for more of him in every sense of the word. Kirishima moans as you kiss him again, pushing your tongue between his teeth to try and taste the familiar warmth of his mouth. You moan, your body finding his easily, comfortable and wanting as you careen forward, the throbbing circular mark on your shoulder long forgotten. You have to come up for air much sooner than you like, still reeling from his marking of your body.

Kirishima’s palm is digging into your stomach again, nails biting into your smooth skin as his cock pulses, and he squints harshly as he pulls away to look you in the eyes. The sight of you splayed out beneath him, completely at his mercy, makes his balls throb and he snaps his hips up into you again out of pure primal need alone. Your body jostles, breasts bouncing and thighs rippling, as his cock bottoms out into your cunt, the tip of him bursting with arousal and finding your cervix.

“Oh shit,” he drops his head to your chest, curling himself upward so your hips are flush, his hip bones bruising your thighs as he unceremoniously crumbles into you. Your hands are on him in an instant, trying to understand what could have possibly happened to make him so vulnerable.

You barely have time to say his name before he’s whining, sucking your nipple between the bite of his teeth out of the sole desire to muffle his needy pants. Your hand sifts through his hair, head thrown back while you enjoy the ministrations of his tongue around your chest. He mumbles out words that you can’t quite make out, but with the way his cock is throbbing between your walls and the motions of his hand and mouth on your breast, you don’t care much to understand what drivel he’s spinning.

It is only when you feel the inside of your body flood with heat that you understand.

“Eijirou,” you call to him, forcing his head away from your nipple with the gentle tug of your hands, “d-did you just-”

He looks like he could cry, his head hung in shame, “Yes.”

You want to laugh at his pitiful nature, but you can’t, not knowing what the would do to his self-esteem. Instead, you roll your hips up to try and milk him of his release, encouraging him to start rocking your body with his arousing rhythm until he is completely spent within you.

“You said you wanted to breed me, didn’t you?” you question roughly in his ear, your head tilted to where he’s tucked into your collarbone. You kiss his hair, desperate to clutch onto him as you feel his cock softening, peeling away from your tight hole. The feel of come seeping from your cunt makes you squirm, “Eijirou?”

Kirishima tilts his head back and looks you in the eyes, reddened orbs practically devastated. He nods, “Y-Yeah, but I just-”

“Again.”

His throat bobs, eyes widening at your notion. He turns his head to survey your body, littered with bruises and bite marks and it hasn’t been but one round of his cock buried to the hilt within you. His eyes catch on the marking on your shoulder and his cock stirs again, “A-Again?”

“Breed me,” you grit between your teeth, “please, Eijirou. I want you to put a baby in me.”

The biting nature of his fingertips is not lost on you as he pushes your thighs back so your knees are pressed into the mattress. His thick body is wavering above you, eyes unable and unwilling to look away from you as he starts to roll his hips again, slowly so he does not lose the slick that he has gathered from the both of you.

Kirishima swallows one last pensive breath and then it’s like a switch has gone off in his mind, like he’s finally letting the caged beast out to take over, controlling his ministrations. You arch your back so you can feel his hardened nipples against your chest, one of his hands slowly creeping up your torso until he’s found the bruised, marred skin of your neck beneath his fingertips.

“Look so beautiful, love,” Kirishima kisses your forehead, like a proverbial final word before he devours you whole. “I can’t wait to wreck this pretty pussy of yours, mark this body up until no one has any question of who you belong to.”

His uncharacteristically harsh words make your core tighten and your toes curl. You nod, starting to beg for it, the words just barely tipping over the edge of your tongue when he clamps his hand down on the mark of your neck. You feel white-hot pain shoot forth from the area, coating your body in a wave of agony as the pulsing spreads downward.

A broken whimper escapes your gritted teeth, eyes screwed shut when his blunt fingernails dip further into the area, almost like he’s testing to see how far you can take it before he has to relent. He is unkind when he grabs your thigh, pushing it up into your chest as he resumes his slow pace from before. His cock is already beginning to harden again, twitching relentlessly against your glutinous walls, coated with both your arousal and his spend.

“Eijirou,” you want to beg for him but you can barely push out the broken syllables of his name. Tears coat your cheeks but you don’t mind the blurred vision as you gaze up at him. It makes him shine, like the starlight he truly is. Your face breaks into a smile, despite the absolute torment you feel wracking your body. You would endure anything for him, any sort of discomfort or torture, if it meant that you could be this close to him forever.

Kirishima kisses you square on the mouth, “Hush, angel, let me take care of you.”

Your jaw snaps shut, the muscles along the angle of your face shuddering under the pressure of your gritted teeth. Kirishima smiles warmly at you, the last shred of his humanity remaining before he plunges his thumb into the direct center of your marking, digging his fingernail into the bruised skin. You yelp, your cunt clenching around his cock as he pushes deeper into you.

The entirety of your body is so compliant, molded around his frame, practically fluid as you conform to the positions his hands push you into. Kirishima licks a heated stripe along the column of your neck, leaving behind a wet patch that runs cold when he breathes over it. You dig your hands back against his shoulders, raking the tips of your nails along the length of his back and shoulders.

Kirishima gasps audibly at the newfound tightness of your core at his ministrations. He uses his free palm to reach down and grind his thumb against your hooded clit. He nudges his nose along your jawline, breathing coming in heavy pants as he pummels you into the soft plush of the mattress beneath your shoulders. The snap of his hips does not let your backside rest, your body hovering a few inches from the mattress.

It’s as if he cannot get enough of you, even so much so that he won’t allow your frame to fall too far from him. Kirishima must keep you close, he has no other option. The feral animal clawing at what little shred of his resolve that remains whispers in his ear to put a new mark on every visible inch of your skin until you are nothing but a black and blue mess, blubbering and begging beneath him.

“Such a pretty little thing when you come undone for me,” Kirishima murmurs against the shell of your ear, the sultry sound of his voice intermingled with his panting sending a rolling wave of pleasure down your spine until your toes are curling around the sheets. “You like it when I’m this deep inside of you? Not letting your pussy breathe?”

You are nodding even if you don’t fully understand what he’s saying. You would agree to anything, that much you are aware of, and you know that he is keen to that fact as well. Kirishima is still careful with you, somehow aware enough of your limitations to revere you and reel himself in when he feels he might be going too far. The blitzed-out look in your eyes tells him all that he needs to know – you have slipped beneath the surface into that subservient headspace that he’s seen you on the cusp of so many times when he’s had you knuckle deep and coming around his fingers. The very essence of his being tells him to work you for every tear, ever drop of arousal, that you can create, to bludgeon your body until you are begging him to give you a moment to breathe, and then deny you of it.

Kirishima’s hand that has been pressed against your wound now turns to curl around your throat, fingers squeezing your neck until you are gasping for breath. Your eyes flutter somewhere between open and closed as your mouth gapes open wide, bobbing like a fish out of water as you struggle to inhale the slightest amount of oxygen. Your hands flop from his body to the mattress, curling around the sheets until he hears them rip between your nails.

“Look at you, Princess,” he nudges your cheek until you’re looking him in the eyes again, “can’t even speak in full sentences. So whipped for my cock, huh? Tell me what you want me to do to you, if you can talk.”

Drool dribbles from either corner of your mouth and when you shake your head, it creates damp splotches on the pillowcase. Kirishima chuckles, pushing the base of his thumb against the fleshy underside of your chin, forcing your head still so he can glower down at you, crimson eyes shining. The heel of his palm stays jutted against your esophagus, limiting your breathing as he loiters over you.

The words that come out of your mouth are mere wheezing syllables, unable to be understood in their broken form. Tears form in your eyes, clumping on your lashes, at the pure frustration that you can’t tell him exactly what you’d like him to do to you. You whine, the sound breaking in the middle when Kirishima tightens his grip on your throat. You peel your eyes open to see a darkness settled in his irises, their normally crimson color turned almost to black in his lustful state.

It should make you upset, that he’s losing himself, but instead, it just stokes the fire in your belly until the flames are raging up into your throat. The smoke of it all builds behind your eyes and in your mouth until you have to open everything, whining and moaning and writhing like your life depends on it. All the while, Kirishima has set a steady, bruising pace of his cock dragging against your walls, the forked veins on the underside of him giving you additional friction. You want to grab at him, to tug on his body until he melts into you, but your arms are limp, practically your whole body is at the intense ministrations of his hands and hips.

Finally, after your vision begins to blur and your eyelids slip closed at the feel of the remaining oxygen leaving your throat, Kirishima relents his grip and a rush of air floods your lungs. You gasp and choke, the motions making your cunt clamp tightly around his cock, giving Kirishima the push he needs to bottom out within you again, holding himself still until you can catch your breath.

“Such a good girl,” Kirishima is whispering the words hoarsely as his mouth roams your cheek and neck and collarbones. He plants wet, sloppy kisses against your skin like he does not have time to think about the affections.

You whine when you feel his tongue dart from between his lips to lavish attention to the wound on your shoulder, the bite mark from his pointed teeth leading way to bruising and little trails of crimson seeping down from your shoulder to the mattress. He licks at it, half out of wanting to hear you moan when he puts too much pressure on the bruise and half out of guilt for hurting you.

His name comes from your lips and it makes his cock stir against your cervix, “Tell me what you want, angel, I need to know.”

You are aware the duality of that statement. He needs to know because he needs permission, even if his current state won’t allow him to admit it. You find it in you to reach a hand up to sift through his hair, palming at the back of his head to give him some ease with your touch.

“I want you to come in me, Eijirou,” your voice is panting, a mix of exhaustion and longing making you sound fatigued. You feel tears push out of the edges of your eyes at the pure need you have for him to make all of this a reality, “Come in me, Eiji, I want you to give me a baby. I want you to breed me until I’m full of your child, over and over again. I want you to fill me up un-ah!”

Kirishima ruts forward and you swear you feel something within you tear at the pure size of him. He nips at your jaw, nosing along your neck, brushing against it whenever he pulses forward. The salacious sounds filling the air only contribute to your arousal, floods of slick washing over his dick as he slots in and out of you.

He grunts, “So fuckin’ tight,” before his hands travel down towards your thighs, pushing them back until he has you folded so only your shoulders are against the bed. You whimper as you turn, your mark pushed against the mattress until it is pulsing with pain.

“I’m gonna come in this tight, wet little hole until you’re leaking, until you taste it.” Kirishima can feel the impending doom of his spend when his cock twitches within your quivering heat. You try and clamp your walls down around him to keep his length sheathed within you for longer, but it’s of no use. He has set a bruising pace that he intends on following through with until you are screaming and his come is coating your soft insides.

Your toes are pointed toward the ceiling, curling downward when he slams into you. The pace of his hips is menacing, something you should fear, because the feel of him makes you think he might rip you open. But, you’re sure you’d let him split you down the middle and you’d still say thank you. Mumbles of incoherent drivel pour from your mouth along with your rivulets of drool and tears.

Kirishima chuckles, “Look at you, a beautiful mess for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? I can’t wait to fill this precious cunt up. I’ll give you as many babies as you can hold.”

The call to your womb must be strong, because he stays slotted within you for a moment, fingers rolling around your thighs as he takes you in. His crimson irises dole over your body, from your plush lips to your plump chest, on downward to the gentle bump of your belly as his cock nudges within you. Kirishima abandons your thighs for your stomach, raking his nails along the unmarked plane of skin, thin angry lines left behind when he pulls away.

You reach forward to wrap your fingers around his wrist, keeping his touch pointed on your navel, “I want to have your baby, Eijirou. All of them, as many as you can give me. Please, I’m just a vessel for you to use.”

His eyes deepen at that sentiment, but something else passes through them. He catches his lip within the bite of his teeth before leaning down to kiss you, palm turned against your stomach so his knuckles drag along your skin, but he can slot his fingers between yours and squeeze.

“You are so much more than that,” he whispers into your mouth, as if the words may stay caged in there forever for you to marinate on them. He kisses your cheeks, the tears sticking on his lips, his voice thick when he speaks, “You’ll be the prettiest mama out there, you know? So beautiful and round, absolutely breathtaking when you have to waddle around, you’re so full.”

Kirishima is close to whimpering, eyes screwed shut as he speaks his heart, “I love you, Princess, god, you mean the world to me.”

Your fingers find purchase against his shoulders, the scratched skin beneath the pads of your digits making you salivate. You’ve marked him, too, even if it’s not the same. You want to spend the rest of your life repeating it over and over, marking him every time he finds you beneath the sheets, so that the others may know that he belongs to you just as much as you belong to him. The two of you are completely intertwined in every facet of the word, limbs and hearts woven into the same piece of soul fabric, begging to be together until the end of time.

The edges of your vision begin to dither as you come closer to your climax. You swallow the lump in your throat and whimper, “Kirishima, I think I might-”

He is listening, the hand not currently wrapped around yours reaching between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit. A bruising kiss is pressed firmly to your mouth, dampening your lewd sounds as you writhe under his bulky body, hardly moving but trying desperately all the same. You can’t help it as your mouth parts to lick at seam of his lips, but he willingly opens his mouth to you, receiving the pointed lapping of your tongue as he slowly begins to rut back into you.

“I want you to beg for what you want,” he gasps into your teeth, the tip of your noses clashing as the sound of his weighty balls slap against the curve of your ass. He can taste the saltiness of your tears as your mouths meld together, and it makes him smirk, “Are you cryin’? Like a sweet little bitch, crying for my cock?”

You want to answer him, to tell him how much you love every part of him, to shower his body in praise until you’ve gone mute, but your throat is hoarse and your mind is hazy, and you can’t form words. Instead, you tilt your head and kiss him harder, your tongue swiping over his as you try to convey how you’re feeling into this kiss, attempting to make his world spin. You want to give him a small taste of what he has done to you, even if it will never truly meet the searing reality of his hold he’s got on you, body, mind and soul.

“Cry for me, darling,” Kirishima coos as his mouth travels down the curve of your jaw until his teeth meet the juncture of your neck and ear, “I want Bakugou to hear you when I stuff your cunt full, all the way from out in the hallway. Gonna put my child in you while you sob for my cock, begging me to keep fucking you deeper and deeper into this bed.”

You can hardly create coherent sentences, between his mouth and hands and cock all working at your relentlessly, the ministrations of his body creating a throbbing euphoria between your hips. You whine at the idea of having to say much of anything right now, let alone an understandable string of words.

His balls are weighty as they slap against your backside, the sound making your throat bob, and he growls, “Beg for me, like the little whore you are.”

The nipping of his teeth against your mouth makes your cunt spasm, and Kirishima lets loose a strangled sound from the back of his throat. Based on the whimpering curtail of his voice, you can tell that he’s close to coming a second time. Your body tenses, every muscle coiled tightly as you edge yourself to a release. You have to close your eyes so the white-hot arousal boiling in your core can’t blur your vision.

“Y-Your come, your cock,” is all you can find yourself repeating over and over, your being too fucked-out to say much of anything else. Hot tears leak down your temples, exhausted sobs making your voice shake when you scream for him, throat close to shattering in its hoarseness.

Kirishima leans back so he can preen, his cock stretching you even further in this position. Your eyes bug out before you can squint your lids closed again. He chuckles, the sound dark and ominous as it reverberates around in the room, “Do you know how fuckin’ hard it’s been to control myself around you? God, I’ve been wanting to fuck you like this for months, breed you like a good little bitch in heat, give you loads of my come until you’re bursting at the seams with it.”

His lewd words are what bring you toppling over the edge, the thought of his come leaking out of your abused pussy, him plugging you up with his cock and rutting up into you again until he’s brought on another release from within himself. Your palms slap his biceps as you grip onto him, afraid he might actually push you through the mattress with the ferocity of his hips. There’s no doubt in your mind that you will have blooming bruises all over your body, marking you up like flowers spread throughout a garden.

“Fucking hell at this sloppy pussy, Princess,” Kirishima’s hands on your thighs tighten, biting deep into the muscle until you swear he hits bone, “I’m gonna breed you up so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. Keep you hidden in here, fuck you endlessly, until you’re begging me to quit.”

“No,” you gasp out, your voice crackling even on the single syllable, “don’t stop.”

Kirishima smirks down at you, “Careful what you wish for, Princess.”

You are shaking your head, silently encouraging him because your voice is shot to hell. You dig your nails into his biceps, shaking him just enough that he understands your subtext, starting to rock his hips against your ass, the thick shaft of his cock slipping along your inner walls as he works you closer to the crest of climax.

It’s just on the precipice of your body, your entire form overheated with the flames of arousal. You want to cry, the end so close and yet feeling so unachievable. Kirishima releases one of your thighs to attend to your clit, the pace of his circling finger matching that of his cock pounding into your heat. With each thrust, you see another wave of stars in the air above you. Even in the low candlelight of this secret room, you can see the glimmering in Kirishima’s irises, as if he has his own galaxy tucked away in his pupils, bringing it out for you and for you only.

Kirishima curses, dropping his head to watch his cock slip from your wet core, silvery strands of slick the only thing connecting him to you now, “Gotta stop clenching so hard, sweetheart,” somehow he manages to push himself back into you, despite the size of your hole. Kirishima grabs one of your ankles and settles it on his shoulder, turning to kiss the joint, “Such a tight little pussy, but so fucking sloppy. You’re dripping.”

His nose nudges along the length of your calf as he picks up his pace, rutting into you with purpose. You wonder how much of his animalistic nature will bleed into the other aspects of your life, but you don’t have much time to ponder before the coiling heat of your orgasm is beginning to build up and cloud your consciousness. Your jaw hangs slack and Kirishima takes the opportunity to slip his index and fourth finger between your lips, the golden ring on his finger cool on the heated pad of your tongue.

“There you go,” he murmurs absentmindedly, tilting his head to consider you. You circle one hand around his wrist, pushing him further into the hollows of your cheeks. His eyes widen at the action and it makes his hips falter in their pacing.

Kirishima can feel the tightening of your cunt around his cock, and the tears in your eyes, and he knows that you’re close, “C’mon, angel, I want you to come on my cock. You feel so fuckin’ good around me, holding me tight.”

You sniffle, drool creating a silvery rivulet down your cheek, “Eijirou, please,” you are whimpering into his knuckles, praying that you don’t bite down on him too hard.

“S’okay,” Kirishima’s voice is kind, in stark contrast to the harsh nature of his dick as it jackhammers into you. “Bite me, I’ll be okay. I just want to make you come.”

Listening to his plea, you grind your teeth together around his knuckles, biting into his skin until you taste metal. The release of pressure gives way to an earth-shattering orgasm, your cunt spasming around his cock until you can feel your arousal seeping out of your body, dripping onto the mattress beneath you. You suck on Kirishima’s fingers, tonguing his knuckles to distract yourself from screaming.

“Good girl,” he coos, thumb grazing your cheek and chin as he continues to rock into your core. You are still gushing when he tenses up, thighs rippling as he readies himself to come for the second time. Kirishima’s voice is hoarse, near a growl as he looks down at you, a blubbering, hiccuping mess beneath him, “F-Fuck, Princess, you’re gonna look so beautiful when you’re full with our child. I can’t wait to stuff you full over and over again, until you’re bursting at the seams.”

You start to plead, your words nothing more than blather, foaming at the mouth as you whine for his spend, tears beading at the corners of your eyes in your desperation. Your nails rake down the length of his muscled back, your heels dipping into the flesh of his ass to keep him pinned to you, for just a moment of reprieve from his agonizingly thick length. The forked veins running along either side of his cock make your walls quiver as your abused insides beg for a break.

When he feels a newfound tightness as he tries to withdraw from you, he seethes through his teeth, “Shit, sweetheart. St-Stop clenching, or else I’ll have to fuck you all over again.”

There’s a pause, a stilling of his body, as he looks down at you, drooling and crying around his knuckles. He chuckles, the sound reverberating his chest in such a way that shakes the very room. Your body tenses at the timbre, eyes struggling to focus on one specific point on his face as he ravishes you with his carmine irises.

“Actually,” he tilts his head, shoving his fingers further down your throat until you are gagging around his digits, “go ahead, push it out, it just means I get to breed this tight little pussy all over again.”

Kirishima leans forward, brushing his mouth against your jaw as he sheathes himself within you inch by inch, slow and salacious, “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you to the fucking brim anyway, angel. You want this load?”

You can’t help the instant wanton words that fly from your mouth, sparking in the midst of the two of you, pouring out of your chest like fire. You whine and keen, sucking his knuckles into the hollows of your cheeks to try and bring him closer to the precipice of pleasure, to give him the same radical sensation that he has given you twice now.

“Give it,” you force the words out despite his thick digits pushing down on the muscle of your tongue, “please, Eiji, I-I want your ba-oh.”

He growls, bludgeoning his cock into your cunt as he starts coming undone within you. A blooming heat starts in your core and blossoms upward until you think smoke may come out of your nostrils. It clouds your mind, the slightest bit of consciousness creeping forward so you can enjoy the way he paints your walls with his spend, filling you just as he promised.

“Take it,” he snarls, sharpened teeth making your back arch, “take my fucking load.”

Your legs wobble, but you keep yourself wrapped around him, allowing him to ride out his pleasure until his hips are sloppy, thighs brushing your bruised ass a final time before he drops his head to your chest. He is hot, unbearably warm, but you endure it because it means he is here.

His hands brush down from the backs of your knees until he is pushing you back into the mattress, allowing your body to rest, limp against the sheets. Kirishima kisses the swell of your breast, imagining how full they’ll be once your womb has been filled and your body starts to change. He could cry at the thought of it, his animalistic side attempting to take over his consciousness, warm at the thought of you carrying on his lineage, giving him heir after heir.

Kirishima hums against your sternum, hands encompassing your sides in full, fingers splayed across your ribs, “Such a pretty little thing, angel. You’re perfect. I love you.”

He starts to pull from you but you whine, clenching around him so tightly that your combined arousal seeps from your cunt, dripping down the curve of your ass. Your nails bite into his biceps, clutching onto him like an anchor, “Please don’t leave me, Eijirou.”

“Hey,” his voice is soothing, nose nudging over your jugular. He presses himself back into you, filling you up even as he starts to soften, “I’m right here, sweetheart. I promise I’m not going anywhere. Not now, and not ever. You’re mine, my mate.”

You swear you see the curling wisps of flames seeping from his teeth and tongue, the dragon in him coming forth in a surge of possessiveness. His eyes drop to the piercing bite adorning your shoulder, a mix of blood and bruising on display, the mating mark stirring his cock within your cunt again and you’re afraid he might already be starting up for a third round.

Tilting your head skyward, you beseech him for his mouth, pursing your lips just enough that he understands your silent plea. Kirishima’s smirk melts into a smile, dimples piercing his cheeks, and he meets you halfway, slotting his mouth to yours. The warmth of your lips meld together, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but you do not care because at least he is buried to the hilt within you and his body is flush with your own. You see stars as you are deprived of oxygen, but this might be the most pleasant way to go – full to the brim of him, his mouth starving you, your entire being swallowed by the essence of him.

“You don’t quit that, I’ll take you again, right now,” Kirishima is growling as his mouth finds your mark again, pressing a harsh kiss to the purpled skin, “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you’re not sure what specific event has stirred them on, but you let them fall nonetheless. Kirishima is quick to kiss them away before they can stain your pillowcase, whispering kindness as he brushes his mouth against each of your eyelids, “I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“Always, Eijirou,” you whisper into thin air, your voice reaching his ears and sending a bolt of lightning down his spine, “I’ve always been yours, from the moment I saw you, I belonged to you.”

“And I have always been yours too.” Kirishima brushes his nose against the bridge of your face, “I can’t wait to build a legacy with you.”

-

The thudding of footsteps echoes down the hall, drawing carmine irises up from their previously hooded position. He rolls his eyes, standing to his feet, sword weighing heavy on his belt, “What is it?”

“Very important news,” the younger man’s throat bobs as he stutter steps backward, “The, uh, the ball that’s being held later-”

The blonde wags his finger in midair, a chuckle parting his smirking mouth, “Go find someone else to figure that shit out. You’ll regret it if you go in there now.”

A widened stare follows his finger to the door, where the wood is shaking just enough that he can get the hint. The knight in front of him chuckles, sitting back down in his chair, crossing his leg over his knee, “Yeah, I wouldn’t disturb him during his breeding season if I were you.”

-

a/n: yeah, so this was supposed to be 2k. obviously that didn’t happen, lol. i hope you guys like my first true kiri fic :) 

tagging: @mirakumiruku @kamehamethot​ @1-800-callmekatsuki​ @shoutogepi​ @freckledoriya​ @writeiolite​ @kingtamakimurder​ @cutesuki--bakugou​

[kinktae]

flesh and blood || 3 (FINAL)

You are living in a society that is just now picking up the scraps that the Great Outbreak left behind after the government killed off the majority of the zombies. Still, some remain, and fear still lies within society’s walls. So imagine your surprise when the very thing you’ve been taught to fear ends up saving your life, showing you that maybe two beating hearts aren’t always required when it comes to love.

pairing: zombie!jungkook x reader

word count: 8k

genre: post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, smut

warnings: murder, guns, renegade shit oh and ZOMBIE PEEPEE 

A/N: inspired by warm bodies and the fact that I’m a legitimate crackhead.

01 | 02 | 03 (FINAL)

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PART THREE (FINAL) **UNEDITED**

Jungkook woke up with a jolt, eyes blinking hurriedly as they rushed over the room in disoriented panic. His breathing was erratic and loud, failing to settle down once he realized that he was safe on the couch of the apartment, not back in the abandoned building you had saved him from.

“Jungkook? Are you okay?” You walked out into the living room suddenly, concern lacing your features.

The zombie in question gave the room one final once over before sitting up, bringing a hand up to run through his dampened bangs.

“Yeah, I just… Bad dream.” He frowned.

Sympathy flooded you, realizing that this must have been another one of his recurring nightmares. You weren’t sure about the details, but you were fairly certain it had something to do with the group of zombies he once lived with. Jungkook hardly spoke about his past – the parts he could remember – but you could see the way the sadness lingered even after the nightmare had passed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He continued solemnly.

You shook your head, “No, no, I’ve been awake, I still have a few articles to edit for work. The deadline for the newspaper issue is– Are you sure you’re okay?”

The zombie man didn’t reply, his mind clearly elsewhere in this dark room. You bit down on your lip.

Jungkook’s blank stare shifted as your open palm offering itself to him came into view. He looked up to see you looking at him expectantly, smile warm as you gestured for him to take your hand.

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“It’s not quite outside like I wish I could take you but…”

“It’s beautiful.” He decided with a sigh.

You brought your knees to your chest, arms wrapping around them for some warmth. Naturally, there was a slight breeze as the two of you sat on the roof of your apartment building, looking over your night fallen town.

It was against Namjoon’s direct order for Jungkook to leave the apartment. Technically speaking, Jungkook hadn’t left the building. You were sure the small loophole you had carved could be overlooked. It just wasn’t right that Jungkook had to spend his days locked up in your dingy apartment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, gaze rolling over the half rebuilt city, certain parts still remaining dark and unilluminated.

“Not really.” Was his honest reply.

“Okay.”

You weren’t going to push him into talking about anything he didn’t want to. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of weight he must be carrying around within him.

Jungkook looked over at you in surprise, not expecting your understanding reply.

He let out a sigh, bringing a knee up to rest his arm against it. You watched as he clenched and unclenched his hand.

“They were my brothers.” His words came out as a soft breath, barely leaving his lips. Place your chin on your knees, you looked at him with understanding, urging him to continue.

“I don’t know how to explain it. We never said a word but… we were family. We looked out for each other.”

“I’d give anything to bring them back.” Jungkook admitted woefully. There was a certain guilt sitting in his eyes as he thought over his next words, seemingly unwilling to say them. “When those guys came in with all those guns… I panicked and hid. Even as they grabbed the others and dragged them away… I stayed hidden. I should have fought for them.”

Your chest tightened at his confession, leaning over closer as you shook your head adamantly.

“No, Jungkook, you’re not at fault. None of this is your fault! You’re a zombie, you could’ve been killed on the spot if the DEAD Team saw you as a threat. You did the right thing, please you have to know that. You were scared and didn’t have time to think–”

You fell silent abruptly, left speechless as Jungkook’s hand came down on the top of your head gently, patting it comfortingly.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. You don’t have to get worked up over me.” He hummed.

Heat was rocketing up your neck, burning at your cheeks as you sat beside him with a pout, “Yes, I do. I’m worried about you…”

He cocked his head, a smug grin on his handsome face, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Your cheeks grew warmer.

“I-I just… care about you, is all.”

Jungkook chuckled, “Sweet Y/N. Always thinking of others before herself.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.” You sulked. You felt your breath falter as the hand on your head ran down the side of your face, his warm fingertips tracing your cheek. He could feel the way your skin burned under his.

“I mean it. I mean, you took me in without so much as a second thought. You didn’t care that I was a zombie.”

“The way you always want to help others…” His fingers made their way down your jaw, following the slight slope until it found your bottom lip, his touch just ghosting it. You didn’t dare breathe as his brows furrowed slightly. “...It’s beautiful.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, frozen in place as if too afraid the moving would shatter the moment between us.

The same heart began to sink as he pulled his hand away suddenly, cheeks tinted pink.

“Jungkook–”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Gosh. You have to ask before you kiss someone, brains.” You turned away from him, tone of voice serious as if to scold him.

You were nodding yes before you could even contemplate his question, “Please.”

His kiss was slow, pulling away between each touch as if to savor the feeling of your mouth against his. You reveled at the feeling of his breathing synchronizing with your, his hands gripping your hips as he brought you onto his chest, pulling you impossibly close.

Despite how cold the night was, you felt like you were on fire, Jungkook’s touch warming every inch of you.

“You’re so beautiful…” Jungkook groaned as he broke the kiss, his hot tongue finding the base of your throat. You whimpered in response, admittedly growing embarrassingly wet on his lap.

Everything felt so foreign with him, your fingers running over each other for the first time. Something incredibly appealing knowing that you were still outside and that any relationship between you two would be decidedly forbidden. You urged his shirt off, fingers greedy and craving the feeling of his skin.

You swallowed back a moan as his hand found your thigh, digging into the soft exposed flesh, finger playing with the fabric of your bedtime shorts.

You had no idea just how far either of you was planning to take this. The feeling of his digits so close to the place where you were aching for him seemed to make your decision up for you.

“Jungkook…” You whined.

“Mm?”

You nipped at his jaw tenderly, audibly mewing at the sound it elicited from him. Thankfully, you didn't have to say a word, as his hand slipped between your legs without hesitation.

“You want this badly, huh.” He tutted, taking in just how wet you were for him.

Your face went hot, a small whimper of embarrassment escaping you, causing him to chuckle. He pressed a kiss against your cheek, timing the action perfectly with a roll of his thumb over your clothed clit.

“Don’t worry.” He hummed

Your breathing hitched as he ran his middle finger down your slit lightly, repeating the torturous movement until you were squirming in his lap.

Suddenly his unoccupied hand found your wrist, leading you to his crotch, “I promise you I want it just as bad.”

You groaned, tugging down the front of his pants clumsily, palming over his underwear. Jungkook’s mouth met yourself once more, tongue eager to meet yours and you both lost yourself in each other, passionate huffs escaping between you.

“Can I touch you?” You hiccuped, fingers pulling at the band of his underwear. He chuckled.

“I didn’t exactly ask you, did I?” He teased darkly. And with that confirmation, you dipped into his underwear, nearly shuttered as you wrapped your hand around his thick, hot cock.

What a sight it must have been for anyone who could see. What with you on top of each other, hands disappearing into the other's pants, soft chirps falling from you as his fingers rocked into you.

“Fuck.” Jungkook muttered, preening in the way you felt. At the way he felt.

Your hand pumped his cock, slowing down every now and then to hear him whine as you stopped to play with his leaking tip. He felt so hot and heavy in your hand; you wanted nothing more than to take it inside you. He looked too good to be true, jaw clenching with every swallowed, mouth falling ajar with every moan from him. But you knew neither had a condom. There was too much at risk, too much you didn’t know when it came to zombie-human interactions.

So this would have to do for now. Messy kisses and matching wet fingers – both of your hips rocking into each other, fervorously chasing your respective highs.

“A-Ah, shit.” You stuttered head falling forward as his thumb began its abuse down on your aching clit, having gone neglected for far too long. The feeling of his fingers stretching you out this way could never compare to the way you usually had to self serve yourself. If it didn’t feel so fucking good, you might have grown embarrassed and how noisy you were, sobbing wet and dripping.

There was something so hot about the way the either’s hands would shake when things started to feel too good, still clumsily working to get the either off.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, sweetheart.” Jungkook praised, voice shaking and uneven. He was close and you knew it.

“Feels, hmph, so good. So good. Want you inside me so bad.” You confessed, leaning over to mutter your words directly in his ear. You pressed a kiss against his neck and he groaned, clearly responding to your words well.

As if direct revenge, however, the pressure on your clit increased, his fingers curling up into you in a way that sent you straight to heaven itself. You reached your high with a cry, hand speeding up around him despite your own pleasure.

“F-Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum.” He choked out suddenly, and you reached clumsily for the shirt he had discarded beside you two. You pressed kissed into his jaw as he released himself onto the fabric with a groan of your name, sparing you from any unfortunate cum stains.

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, grabbing his shirt from you and chugging it aside, wrapping his arms around you. You were still shaking from your come down, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you focused on your breathing.

Well, there was certainly no going back from that. You chuckled.

“Are you okay?” He grinned into the night sky, hand running down your back.

“Better than okay.” You admitted, bringing a hand up to rest against his rapidly beating chest.

Wait… Beating..?

Pushing your head off his shoulders, you turned your attention to your hand, moving it over towards the left side of Jungkook’s bare chest.

“What the fuck…”

“What’s wrong?” He wondered, confused as to your sudden fascination with his chest.

Hurriedly, you ripped your hand away, redirecting it onto the side of his neck, right under his jaw.

Jungkook watched in bewilderment as your eyes grew impossibly wide, head jerking up to meet his stare with an expression.

“Jungkook… you have a pulse!”

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Namjoon let out a noise of affirmation, pulling his two fingers away from where Jungkook’s pulse was pulsating against them.

“He has a pulse.” The scientist confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

You and Jungkook had rushed back into the apartment needless to say. You were an absolute mess, shaking your sleeping roommate awake desperately, needing to know you were just losing your fucking mind and that your zombie roommate actually had a pulse.

“How are you so calm about this?!” You scolded, arms crossing over your chest.

Namjoon gave Jungkook a sudden once over, “Why are you shirtless again?”

Your eyes went wide, mouth falling open as you moved to change the subject.

“T-That’s not what’s important! Can you focus, please?”

“Forgive me, you seem to forget I was just awoken from what ended up being a two-hour sleep after a ten-hour shift at the hospital. I’m a little out of it, okay? I don’t have postcoital dopamine flooding through me like some people.” He rolled his eyes, causing your stomach to drop.

He knew?!

“W-What are you… I don’t…”

“Oh please. Jungkook’s shirtless and his hair is all mess. Not to mention the scratches down his abs and the fresh hickey on your neck. I’m tired, not blind.” Namjoon rolled his eyes.

“I..” You stuttered.

“I can’t believe my best friend got freaky with a corpse.” He tutted, moving to sit back down on the bed he was so rudely ripped from.

“Standing right here.” The corpse in question reminded.

“He’s not dead.” You scoffed, glaring at your yawning best friend. “He’s... undead.”

“He’s also still in the room.” Jungkook said aloud, clearly talking to himself at this point.

Namjoon cocked his head from side to side, as if contemplating your words, “Mm, I dunno. Still screams necrophilia to me…”

“Shut up!”

Jungkook clapped his hands together, capturing his bickering roommates' attention, “Okay, so I have a pulse, right? Is it possible you just missed it the first time you checked?”

“Nope, you were definitely dead as a doorknob. No offense.” Namjoon added as an afterthought.

“I can’t believe he developed a pulse. How did you not think to check his pulse more than once?” You baffled.

Namjoon hummed, “Gosh, Y/N, I dunno, you discover a man has no pulse once and you just kind of expect him to uh, you know, stay dead.”

“Stop calling him dead!” You stomped a foot, growing genuinely irritated. Call it the postcoital dopamine flooding your brain but you had a hard time believing that the fully-functioning penis that you just had your hand around certainly didn’t belong to that of a dead man.

“I’m just teasing, Y/N. Honestly, I mean, other than the fact that he was once an unresponsive shell of a person, what makes him any different than you and I?” He shrugged.

“Joon…”

“I’m serious! Listen, I’ve been documenting his development since he first came to stay with us and there has been a total and complete revival of cognitive processing, specifically in concrete and abstract thinking. Not to mention the total resurrection of language comprehension and usage.”

Suddenly, an inquisitive looking Namjoon shifted his attention onto Jungkook.

“Hey, did you by chance grow hard?”

“Namjoon!” You shrieked in disbelief.

“Uh… Yes, I did.” Jungkook shifted his weight awkwardly.

“Was it difficult?” The sitting man pried, hand coming up to rub at his chin.

Your face grew hot, taken aback by your best friend’s question before reaching over him to grab one of his pillows, smacking him with it.

“What the hell kind of question is that?! I’m not as repulsive as you think I am, asshole.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” Namjoon explained, dodging your next swing. “The male erection is caused by blood flow expansion. I was asking because I was curious if his heart was actually pumping blood to his extremities– put down your weapon!” He pleaded, running over to hide behind Jungkook for protection.

You dropped the pillow back down onto the bed with a huff, running through your hands through your hair in an effort to calm your nerves. This was just too bizarre to wrap your head around.

“So what? Why Jungkook? What makes him different from every other zombie?”

Namjoon shrugged, “I mean, every individual’s genetic code is unique. Maybe there’s something in his genetic composition that caused him to react differently to the Immortous drug.”

“What if Jungkook isn’t the only one?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really think Jungkook is the only zombie who isn’t eating some flesh eating monster? Isn’t it possible that there are more like him?” You pressed.

“Hm. The mass hysteria during the Great Outbreak certainly makes it seem like they all were flesh hungry but… yeah, statistically speaking, it's more likely that there is a small population of functioning zombies rather than him being the sole exception.” He nodded affirmatively.

“So then… where does the government fit into this? The DEAD Team… do they know? How do they know which are the scary zombies and which are like Jungkook?”

“No clue. Any chance you know a member of the DEAD Team we can ask?” Your best friend joked, rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

At his words, you a thought enter your head, pulling the corners of your mouth downward.

“No… but I know someone who might just know something.” You sighed, a sinking feeling falling over you, torn between the need to know and the fear of finding out.

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The rapping of your knuckles of the door rang out throughout the house.

You were sure he was home – his car parked out on the driveway, but you still couldn’t shake your nerves that he might not come to the door, leaving you, Namjoon, and most importantly, Jungkook out and in the open like this.

There were plenty of joggers out and roaming around your parents’ neighborhood, especially around lunch time. You had wanted to get here earlier but unfortunately, once Namjoon had fallen back to sleep, he had become an immovable brick, the effects of a disrupted sleep schedule taking its toll.

So the three of you had made your way out and over in broad daylight; poor Jungkook must be sweating buckets under the hoodie he had propped over his head, the sun sparing no expense today.

You nearly sighed in relief at the sound of the door’s deadlocks unbolting. You counted along to the sound of each lock turning.

The door swung open with a groan, the bewildered face of your father greeting you.

“Can we come in?” Your words came out rushed, earning a raised brow from your father.

“Good morning to you too.” He grumbled, taking the three of you momentarily before moving aside. “Yeah come in.”

The sight of everyone rushing sent him further into confusion.

“What’s with the surprise visit? Not that you aren’t welcomed but you do usually give a heads up.” He pointed out, offering Namjoon a smile. “Good to see you, bud.” Your father and Namjoon had always gotten along swimmingly.

“Where’s mom and Junny?” You ignored his question, eyes rolling over the living and kitchen area.

“Junny’s got a fever. Your mom just went to check on him and hopefully convince him to take some medicine.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. Your brother Junseo always had an adamant refusal when it came to swallowing pills. Getting him to take anything would certainly be no small feat.

Your amusement died quickly, stomach twisting anxiously as your father’s eyes flickered over to a still hooded Jungkook, a worried expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.” Your father greeted politely, eyes fixated on the stranger, something unreadable in his eyes.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered to you uncertainly, feeling quite anxious himself. You nodded at the zombie, and with your reassurance, he brought two pale hands up to grip at the edge of his hood, before throwing back and off his head.

You watched as your father’s face fell, his mouth falling ajar in shock.

“You’re–”

“Before you freak out,” you were quick to interrupt in, stepping between the two in case your father made a move. “He won’t hurt you. He doesn’t eat flesh. He’s lived with us for the past month. He has a pulse, dad. Not all zombies are monsters. We came here to ask you what you know about zombies like him. You fought during the Great Outbreak. Surely you must know something. They’re not all the same are they?”

You took a breath, slightly winded from quickly rambling. You knew your father was armed so the quicker he had all the facts, the less chance there was for him to come to conclusions.

The three of you watched as he backed up slowly, mouth falling and closing as if at a loss for words.

“Dad, he eats candy bars and human food.” You promised as he reached the back of the couch, taking a seat on its frame in case his legs gave way.

“He won’t hurt you, I promise.” You tried again when he failed to respond. It was then that Jungkook decided to speak up.

“Sir, she’s right–” He halted, however, at the sight of your father holding a hand up, as if to beg him to stop.

“I…” your father let out a shaky breath, hand coming up to rub at the back of his head. “I know.”

Silence fell over the room; neither of you or your roommates knowing what your father’s next words would be.

He let out a sigh, eyes falling.

“I prayed this day would never come. This should have never happened. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

You were at his side in an instant, “I am safe. Dad, he doesn’t eat flesh.”

“I know he doesn’t. None of them do.”

His words fell onto the room like a bomb, covering you head to toe in blinding debris.

“What?” You breathed. “What are you talking about?”

“Zombies don’t eat flesh. They never have.” His voice was monotonous but still sad all the same.

“I don’t...”

He pressed his lips together, “It’s a lie. All of it.”

“But… we’ve always been told– I mean there are government official documents of zombie attacks that are available to the public.” Namjoon stepped in, head shaking as he tried to make sense of what your father was saying.

“And they’re all fabricated. There is a reason why we are taught to run from a zombie and not just take care of it yourself. That the DEAD Team is the only one equipped enough to handle them. The government can’t risk anyone finding out the truth… they want us to think they’re dangerous.”

Suddenly, the story of the zombie girl and her family came to mind. Holy shit. The government really did kill them...

“Why?” Your voice found volume, a need to understand overtaking you. “Why are they doing this?”

Your father took a moment to contemplate his words, letting out a breath.

“Control. Those in power woke up one day to millions of undead, unresponsive humans and no way to control them. So they decide to get rid of them. All the world leaders went and spread false information that these revived people weren’t human… but some sort of flesh hungry monster who were contagious and dangerous. All the fear… all the hysteria of the Great Outbreak… it’s all manufactured. It was the only way to get away with killing all these people who had family and friends who cared about them. It’s easy for us to turn a blind eye when you think something’s trying to hurt you. We’re all just playing pieces in their game. I heard some of the higher-ups say it’s to prevent disease. Some say it’s population control. But it all comes down to power. They can’t have power over what they don’t understand.”

“How do you know this? You went and fought and… you knew this?” You uttered in disbelief, disgust seeping through your tone.

He shook his head, “I didn’t at the start. I would never have volunteered to fight if I had thought all these people weren’t trying to hurt us. Every zombie found is brought into the termination facility but not to be killed immediately. They’re studied in-depth before they finally executed them. It was just a matter of me wandering into the wrong room and reading some reports that I wasn’t supposed to.”

There was something guilty in his eyes that you couldn’t ignore, angry boiling up in you.

“You stayed.” You realized with a sharp tone. “You didn’t leave after you found out. All those people… you knew…”

“I had no choice–”

“Yes, you did!” Tears pricking at your eyes as you looked at the man that you once looked up to the most. “You could have walked away! You could’ve said no!”

“Don’t you think I wanted to?!” Your father shouted, causing you to flinch. Taking in your reaction, he took a breath, composing himself. “The second I realized what was actually happening, I felt sick to my stomach.”

“But I knew too much. And they found out just how much I knew. I had seen what happens to those that asked too many questions. And how easily the government covered it all up. I was young and scared… but I had a family to protect. You’re right. I had a choice. And I made mine… and will carry that weight with me until the day I die.”

You turned away from him, tears falling freely, suddenly overwhelmed.

“I never meant to hide the truth from you. I just wanted to protect you from what knowing the truth could do to you.” He urged you to understand, his eyes, for once, completely transparent.

“Y/N…” Jungkook attempted to reach out for you, but you turned back before he good, new-found composure falling over you. You still had questions.

“For how long? How long are they kept there?” You pressed, licking at your tears stained lips. Your father pondered your question for a moment.

“I remember seeing some people kept in containment for… two months, maybe three? They would run experiments on them, collect whatever information they needed before they finally terminated them.” He thought aloud.

You thought back to a month ago when you first met Jungkook, alone and hiding in a desolate building that his friends had just been taken from. They were probably still in the containment facility, being prodded and tortured by those monsters you were meant to believe been protecting you all this time. It was only a matter of time before they’d be discarded, a bullet through their head once the government had no use for them. Fury bubbled in your chest at the thought.

A loud shrill ran through the house suddenly, causing everyone to jump.

“What’s that?” Jungkook’s eyes went wide.

“It’s a reminder for families to stay inside. It’s the DEAD Team alarm. It goes off whenever they work within the area. Every house has one.” Namjoon responded automatically, only registering what that meant once he had stopped talking.

“Fuck.” He breathed.

“They’re not here for us, are they?” Jungkook frowned.

“N-No. There’s no way. I, uh… Yeah, I used an untraceable virtual private network, there’s no way I set off an alarm in their monitoring system. Besides, you never left the apartment.” Namjoon rambled nervously, nodding to himself.

“Oh, crap.” You gasped suddenly.

“Oh, crap? Why oh crap? Y/N, what did you do?” Your best friend urged, voice growing higher pitched. You hardly notice your father stand up and push past you three, making his way over to the kitchen window.

“I… Jungkook and I went out on the roof, and we were talking loudly… If someone overheard us… but there’s no way… I mean, it was so late at night, right? Right?”

“Oh god, we’re dead. We’re so dead.” Namjoon shrieked, hands coming up to clutch his head.

“You guys have to go.” Your father announced suddenly.

“What?”

He began to lock the front door, “They’re parking on this street. They’re heading this way.”

“I don’t wanna die!” Namjoon panicked.

“Everyone, listen to me.” Your father’s voice was authoritative and steady, grabbing everyone’s attention immediately. “There’s a briefcase behind the bookshelf by the laundry room. Grab it and sneak out through the back door. Run. Don’t stop and turn back for any reason.”

“Dad, hold on–” A banging on the front door sent everyone the room silent, the dread in the air almost palpable.

“Go!” He mouthed silently, and before you knew it, Namjoon had seized your wrist and ushered you towards the back of the house.

You met your father’s eyes over your shoulder for one final glance, for the first time knowing exactly what they had been hiding.

You could hear your mother yell out for your father in confusion, the sound of the second knock echoing through the house as Jungkook pulled out the metallic briefcase from exactly where your father had described, your mind buzzing and vision growing blurry as you heard your father call out towards the front door that he was coming.

“Let’s go.” Namjoon mouthed, hand turning open your family home’s back door as quietly as possible, Jungkook and you slipping out with him following closely behind.

There was a strange feeling that accompanied you as you began to run through the backyard you had once grown up in. What once had felt like the most carefree, safest place in the world now felt like a minefield, every second you spent sprinting through it was a second with a target on your back, exposed and visible, anyone in the house able to see the three fleeing renegades if they were to just glance out the back window.

Namjoon’s sprinting body met the fenced gate with a careless clash, cursing angrily as his uselessly shaky hands attempted to undo the latch that separated them from the thick of trees just behind the house.

“Open the fucking gate!” You hissed, every inch of your body on edge.

“I’m fucking trying!” He shrieked, louder than he should have, only freaking you out more. You had just opened your mouth to shout back for him to lower his voice when a sound stopped you cold in your tracks.

Bang!

Your mouth fell shut, the gunshot ringing in your ears as suddenly everything began to move impossibly slow. It was as everything around you had gone into slow motion, your blinking slowing down as you watched as Namjoon started to bark out words, yet no noise came out of them.

Bang!

Bang!

Your ears were ringing; you couldn’t hear what was being said to you. Your legs felt so heavy that even as Namjoon yanked the gate open, you couldn’t move. You didn’t even feel as Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist and ushered you through the gate and into the thick of the trees that bordered the neighborhood.

Trees flew past your vision, disorienting you mercilessly. Nothing made sense.

As the three escapes ran, no one said a word. No one spoke of how there were three shots. Three people in the house. How, within a matter of seconds, a family had been massacred — your family.

No one knew how long they had been running before they finally came to a stop, lungs burning, and bodies hunched over as they fought for breath, legs still trembling to keep them going forward.

Yet you stood there confused. Your surroundings wouldn’t stop spinning. You could hardly see. You were so confused. You thought for a moment that this disorder would never end.

But it did: The trees stopping spinning, your vision restored, and suddenly, everything was crystal clear.

You fell to your knees, a heart-wrenching sob falling with you.

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The sound of nylon material being pushed aside stole Namjoon away from his thoughts, the crackle of the fire harmonizing with Jungkook’s footsteps as he made his way out from the tent and over to the fire pit where the scientist sat in mute contemplation.

Namjoon let out a sigh as the emerging man took a seat beside him, a brief moment of silence passing between them.

“How is she?” Namjoon finally spoke up.

Jungkook thought back to the girl he had left back in the tent, the way she hadn’t spoken a single word since that day.

He knew what it felt like to lose the ones you loved most. He knew your pain. So he didn’t push you. He never pushed or tried to convince you that they might not be dead after all because he knew as well as you did that they were gone.

Namjoon had tried on several occasions to open up that conversation, insisting that not talking about it was not healthy – that you needed to let what you were feeling. But how could you? How could you put into words the inconsolable state of desolation that was your heart? How there was no way to speak the feelings that came with knowing your entire family was dead.

You hardly ever left the tent, not even for food, which Namjoon had driven out to buy the first night of your stakeout.

There was a campground an hour and a half from where the town you all lived in; Namjoon had suggested that it might be the best place to lay low until you all figured out the next plan on action. Thankfully, the scientist had an old tent still sitting in his car’s trunk, left over from his college years when he and his classmates would camp out overnight for field research.

Namjoon was quite the outdoorsman, Jungkook came to realize, pleasantly surprised at how easily he had set up camp and started the fire. The two boys would usually eat beside the crackling flames alone, Jungkook bringing a plate of food back into the tent for you once they were done. Thankfully, the once zombified boy had convinced you to eat somehow, for which your best friend was grateful.

It was clear that you and Jungkook had some sort of bond. At first, he thought it didn’t extend further than the apparent sexual attraction you each held towards each other. Still, as Namjoon slipped into the tent one night, fire freshly put out and a yawn on his lips, and found the two of you fast asleep and curled into one another, he realized the true nature of his roommates’ relationship.

So he let Jungkook have his time with you, confident that he could comfort you in a way Namjoon could not. As much as he wanted to, he simply didn’t know how. Your family meant a lot to him, too, having treated him as their extended son ever since you and Namjoon were little. His own parents were always far too busy to spend time with him anyway. He mourned alongside you.

“Same as yesterday.” Jungkook responded after a beat.

“Still not talking, huh?”

Jungkook picked up a stick that was lying beside his foot, digging an end of it into the dirt.

“It never gets any easier.” He shrugged.

“Hm?”

“Losing someone you love. The pain never goes away; you just learn to deal with it over time.”

Namjoon let his stare drift from the firewood onto the solemn boy beside him, for once noting the way his eyebrows furrowed when the air around him grew silent.

“I’m sorry about those friends of yours they captured. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through and how scared you must have been to be left all alone.” He frowned, watching as Jungkook’s gaze hardened, emotion washing over his dark eyes.

“I’ll never forget everything they did for me.” He said, more to himself than Namjoon.

“Do you remember your family? I mean, do you remember anything from your life before you turned?” Namjoon wondered cautiously. Jungkook nodded.

“It’s usually in small flashes – the image of someone’s smile or a room. Things I almost remember. Sometimes when the apartment is empty, I think I hear the sound of someone humming a lullaby.”

“Woah, what? Is our apartment haunted?!”

Jungkook chuckled at the taller man’s suddenly concerned expression. He shook his head. “Not a ghost. Just a ghost of a memory.”

The sound of someone slipping from the tent behind them quickly ended the conversation, your eyes flashing to the floor as two sets of eyes locked onto your approaching form. You took a seat beside Jungkook wordlessly, hands intertwining in front of you as you let the heat from the fire warm your numb fingers. It was always so cold this time of night.

Your sudden presence left the boys silent beside you, exchanging looks as they attempted to make sense of your unanticipated appearance. You offered no explanation, however, staring down at your digits blankly.

Namjoon was the first to speak, “Anyone hungry? Why don’t we get started on dinner–”

“I need the chart.”

The two boys nearly jumped at the sound of your voice, hoarse and wobbly as if struggling to find it’s footing, undoubtedly from having gone unused for so long.

“What?” Your best friend asked.

“The project Z chart.” You clarified with a steadier voice, eyes flickering to meet his. “Where is it?”

Namjoon glanced over at Jungkook momentarily, who had his eyes fixated on you unwaveringly. For a moment, he thought back to his first entry in the chart, back when Jungkook was a pulseless, unresponsive zombie. Looking at him now, it indeed was something to see just how much he had changed.

“I don’t have it with me. It’s back in the apartment.”

“Shit.” You frowned. “We can’t go back. They could be waiting for us.”

“Well, I mean, I have a copy of it on my laptop. It’s in my backpack.” He offered, pointing over his shoulder back to the tent. Your eyes widen, for the first time in a long time, lighting up with hope.

“All of it? The information about the zombie girl and her family too?”

“Yeah. I scanned all my research into a file… Why?” He inquired.

You let out a breath, turning back to the fire. From his spot beside you, Jungkook could see the way the flames’ light illuminated the cloud of your breath, disappearing into the night’s sky.

“I’m sending it to Seokjin. All of it.” You said firmly.

“Seokjin... your boss?” Jungkook pressed with a furrowed brow. You sent him a quick nod before readjusting your attention back over to your roommates.

“Joon, give me your laptop, I need to write all the information out, so it’s easier to understand.”

“Wha– Wait, Y/N, slow down. Why are you talking about?” Namjoon shook his head, needing further clarity.

“I’m done sitting around and doing nothing. They can’t get away with all of this. They can’t just kill–” Your voice faltered suddenly, eyes watering as you swallowed down your emotions.

You were done crying. For the past three days, you had spent every second of your solitude thinking over and over just how you could put a stop to this misrule and injustice. The society you lived in had been built on a gilded foundation; its history riddled with lies that you knew, from the day your family died, you’d spent the rest of your life tearing them down.

“So… What are you saying right now?” Namjoon spoke, tone hesitant and unsure.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, forcing yourself to sit up straighter, disdain written all over your face.

“I’m saying we take them down from the inside out. Seokjin is the head of our publishing company… If anyone can make sure this ends up on the front page of every news outlet in town, it’s him. He lost his brother to the Outbreak. He can publish it anonymously. He’ll help us. I know he will.”

You spoke with fervor, stance unwavering.

“The people deserve to know that their loved ones are still alive. That they didn’t wake up dead, but still reviving. Jungkook… Shelby… we have proof that with time and social interaction, they all would have become human again. Our government killed them before they got the chance.”

Namjoon let out a breath, panic rising in his throat, “And what then? Y/N, if you publish this information, chaos and riots will break out. It’ll be total anarchy. Not to mention, it’ll only be a matter of time before the government catches wind that you are behind the article. I-I mean, there’s no going back from this! You’ll be labeled a traitor, o-or a domestic terrorist! They’ll kill you!”

“I know.” You breathed out, eyes shutting for a moment. ‘There’s no guarantee I’ll come out of this alive. But at least there’s a chance that the people behind all this bloodshed could be overthrown.”

You opened your eyes, a tear rolling down your cheek. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not asking you to risk your life for me. Not anymore. You guys can take the car and keep going. But I’m done hiding out. I’m doing this, alone or not.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jungkook spoke up finally, making his decision as he reached over and placed a hand over yours, dark eyes boring into your teary ones. You gave him a small but grateful smile, another tear escaping you.

And suddenly, both Jungkook and Y/N’s eyes were on Namjoon, as if waiting for his decision. His roommates were painted in moving waves of red and orange, the fire’s light cast illuminating your determination. He felt his shoulders fall as he took in the way your familiar eyes looked all the more piercing in this light.

“Fuck. Fuck, okay.” He cursed, hands coming up to run through his hair. “I’m in. Goddammit, I’m in.”

A small sob escaped you, your palm coming up over your mouth to mute it as your head fell forward, a mixture of solace and grief washing over you. Despite your words, and certainty, you were petrified. You were terrified at the idea of either boy leaving you to martyr yourself. You were so scared and had been the moment you had fled the scene of your family’s murder. But no amount of fear could sway your heart on its stance.

You just hoped you weren’t killing the last two people you loved.

“Okay.” You wiped away your tears with the back of your hand, hurriedly, taking a breath. “Okay, go get your laptop, please.”

Namjoon nodded, hopping up on his feet to head over towards the tent.

“Y/N.” Was Jungkook’s soft coo the second you two were alone, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You don’t have to do this.” Your words came out a whisper, a soft plea hidden behind your lips.

“You don’t either.” He reminded.

“They killed my family.” You looked back at him with sorrowful eyes. “And they’ll keep killing other innocent people if we don’t stop them. I can’t just do nothing.”

Jungkook smiled at you gently, “And I can’t leave you. You didn’t give up on me, remember? I would never be where I am now without you. You have me, Y/N. All of me. I’m not leaving you behind.”

Your lips found his in an instant, arms wrapping around his warm body on this cold night as if it could be the last time you held him like this.

“Ahem.”

Namjoon’s cough broke the heartfelt exchange short, Jungkook’s cheeks pink as you pulled away from him with a sheepish look.

“Sorry to interrupt.” The scientist mused, handing over the sleek black computer to you. You cleared your throat, prying open the device.

“Get your things ready to leave once I’m done.” You declared as you opened up a new writing document, mind already running over what you were going to say.

“Where are we going? Once we release this information, they’ll be looking for us no matter where we go.” Namjoon reminded you, seating himself back beside Jungkook.

You paused for a moment, the blank white document staring back at you as if curious as well. You let your brows fall, mind wandering as your eyes fell onto the dark-haired boy beside you.

“They were my brothers. I’d give anything to have them with me.” Jungkook admitted woefully.

“I remember seeing some people kept in containment for… two months, maybe three? They would run experiments on them, collect whatever information they needed before they finally terminated them.” Your father thought aloud.

You let out a breath, Jungkook’s head tilting at you curiously.

“Then we go to them.”

Namjoon’s eyes went round in disbelief, “Huh?”

“To their zombie containment facility. The briefcase my dad gave us is full of weapons. Besides, they’ll be so busy trying to hold back the humans that they’ll forget all about their zombies.” You recognized.

“You really do have a death wish, huh.” He gawked.

“Y/N…” Jungkook breathed out incredulously, realization washing over him immediately. You flashed him a soft, closed-lipped smile, watching the way his eyes filled with life.

Sitting there across from you holding your stare, he looked no less human than yourself, only solidifying your resolve.

“Let’s go get your family back.” You nodded, Jungkook’s eyes wet as he nodded back at you.

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Hi friends! Yes that was the last chapter :D i don’t plan on continuing this fic. I left it open ended so that you can decided what happens next. Feel free to tell me whatever endings you chose! And please don’t ask for another chapter skjsj I’m very proud of this story and happy to see it completed <3 LOVE U ALL TO THE MOON AND BACK

[wannajointhecrabcult]

Masks and Music

(Part 1)

Part 2

I didn't think that my last post would've gotten ANY notes at all, so imagine my surprise when I find out that people actually liked it. After that suprise I thought why not and make another one so here we go! This is a Miraculous/Batfam crossover.

Imagine that Damian gets sent to Paris because the fam doesn't want him to become an emotionally constipated sad boi like Bruce and think that a change in scenery would help.

They don't know about the whole Hawkmoth situation because SOMEONE from the justice league decided that the while thing was a prank DESPITE that it was an ENTIRE CITY calling instead of a single person.

Like, aren't you guys supposed to be the world's greatest heros or something?

Who hired you?

Damian being the grumpy lil kid that he is holds a grudge and decides to not accept any calls or video chats from his family or tell them about Hawkmoth because that's what you get when you send someone across the world against their will.

(and because of plot convenience shhh)

Anyways, Damian goes to school as instantly adds Lila onto his mental list of people he needs to get rid of.

I mean, seriously, he's only been is the room for what, 15 seconds and he's already getting a migraine?

Great. Juusssttt great.

He sits in the back of the class with what seems to be the only person with brain cells in this room.

The dark haired girl just looks over and sees the disgust at Lila written all over his face and gives him a silent empathetic nod.

'This is unfortunately normal here.' she tries to convey through the small action.

He just nods back to show his understanding before turning around to observe the others.

In a few minutes Ms. Bustier walks in the room and asks him to introduce himself to the class.

It looks like the teacher never told the class that they were getting a new student because they all have to do double takes when they realize that there's a new face in the room.

He gives them the bare basics, telling them that his name is Damian Grayson, he's from America, and that he doesn't want any of them to talk to him before sitting down.

Clearly the teacher wanted him to say more or scold him for being so rude but a glare shut her up.

Later during a break period Lila tries to flirt with him and brags all about how she's met so many different celebrities and her achievements.

He tells her off and tries to move away but her nails are digging into his arms as she tries to convince him that he should stay away from Marinette.

Before he can maim her, the dark haired girl comes out from behind him and starts spraying Lila down like an unruly cat with some sort of strong smelling liquid from a spray bottle.

Lila screeches and stomps away.

When he turns to his hero the girl explains.

"It's a mixture of shredded lemon, expired maple syrup, vinegar, and pomegranate juice. I call it People Repellant but Thot Begone works too. Oh, and I'm Marinette by the way."

He eyes her hand before shaking it.

"Damian, though I assume you already know that. Can I get some of that by the way? I know a couple insufferable annoyances that would benefit from a spray down.

Marinette just blinks for a second before she bursts out laughing and that was the start of a great friendship.

Together they:

Make fun of Lila in the back of class.

Help eachother with homework (they only cheat off eachother when they REALLY need help)

Prank Lila in odd ways (Hey, just because she found hundreds of furbies hidden around her house that turn on one by one in the middle of the night effectively scaring the crap out of her when she's trying to sleep doesn't mean that it's their fault. She had it coming.)

Break a couple laws (shhhhhhh. Those toy stores don't need those furbies anyways).

Dare eachother over stupid things (they still insist that the cereal incident was caused by the other).

And overall become closer as friends.

They bring out the overdramatic chaotic gremlin child in eachother.

One time when Damian goes over to Marinette's place to work on a project he finds her singing a Disney song to herself on her balcony.

This isn't the first time they've caught eachother singing.

One time Marinette caught Damian in the art room at school humming one of the many annoyingly cheesy and catchy songs that Dick likes to listen to.

Despite him explaining the embarrassing situation to her she still teased him for weeks after.

He'll never get to live it down.

Damian shakes his head to get rid of the flashback when a devious smirk spreads across his face as a revenge plan comes to mind.

After carefully placing his stuff on the floor he sneakily makes his way across the space until he's right behind her.

That's when he joins in.

Screaming at the top of his lungs at first, effectively giving her a mini heart attack before eventually quieting down to a normal singing volume.

She glares at him, annoyed by his loud and obnoxious entrance before she starts singing again.

They eventually end up full Disney movie dramatically performing around her balcony with dance moves and over dramatic acting.

Is it bad that actual birds and other animals are appearing and joining in?

Damian totally kept one of the pigeons.

He named it Dolores.

(He later trained Dolores to attack Rossi on sight.)

When they're finished they end up on the floor out of breath.

They stay like that for a few minutes before Damian sits up.

"That. That was fun. I don't think I've actually ever sang before."

Marinette jolts up in suprise and turns to face him.

"Really? I never would've guessed. You have a really nice singing voice."

He would deny till his dying breath that he blushed when she said that but he covers it up with a smirk.

"Well I guess that's just because yours is so terrible in comparison."

He squawks when she jabs a finger in his side.

"Pshh. As if. Besides, my singing skills can't be worse then your gaming skills." She challenges with a cheeky smile.

"ExCuSe mE?!"

And that's how they spend the rest of the day playing video games, leaving the unfinished project to be completed on a later day.

Good thing it isn't due until 2 weeks time.

After a couple of hours playing video games, creating many possible Lila murder plans, eating pastries, and joking around, it's time for him to leave.

As Damian left for his place he got a feeling that something big was gonna happen.

Marinette also got the feeling but they both ignored it.

Little did they know, someone just happened to walk by and starstruck by the amazing singing they recorded the performance before posting it on the internet.

Imagine the duo's suprise when they wake up the next day to find themselves trending on the internet.

Luckily the video quality was pretty trash so their faces weren't identifiable but the audio was loud and clear.

The world was talking about the cute couple singing to their hearts desire on a balcony. If that's not cliche and adorable then the world doesn't know what is.

The assumption about their relationship status left them looking like tomatos but that didn't stop them from wonder why they didn't notice a creep recording them.

Damn Disney songs and their unnatural ability to distract people.

Of course Lila took advantage of the rising popularity of the video and talked about how she taught the two people in the video how to sing and gave them tips.

The two just walked past the idiot squad and sat down in their seats, making a mental note to come up with a prank later, when the akuma alarms came on.

They fall into their normal routine of Marinette running out to find a place to transform as Damian covers for her.

Oops did I forget to mention that Damian found out her identity because she crashed through his window in the middle of the night still transformed and asked him what's the answer to question 24 in their science homework because she just defeated an akuma by herself and was running on 20 minutes of sleep?

My bad.

Anyways it turns out today was the day Marinette had officially had enough of Chat's bullcrap.

It was gonna be a normal akuma situation.

Ladybug trying to fight the poor butterfly victim while chat noir either doesn't show up, tries to do everything on his own to impress her and ruins the whole plan, or just watches and complains about how she needs to get over her denial and date him BUT

This time he decided to actively try to push her in the akuma's way therefore putting her in SO MUCH MORE DANGER than she was already in.

Now she had to dodge out of the akuma's way AND CHAT'S!

WhAt ThE fUdGe?!?!

You think possibly killing Ladybug and trying to force her to beg for you to save her is gonna make her like you?!?

Just how hard did you hit your head when Gabriel dropped you on the floor when you were 2?

After the akuma was eventually defeated Ladybug told Chat to meet her on an abandoned rooftop that night because they needed to talk.

Chat being the oblivious person that he is (I swear I don't actually hate chat noir, this is for the plot I'm sorry) thought that it was for a love confession and became overly smug before leaving.

Making sure that he isn't following her, Marinette meets up with Damian at his place (school's over because of the attack) and asks him to help.

Later that day when the two miraculous holders meet up Ladybug distracts the Catboy by flirting with him while Damian uses his ninja skills for something other than sneaking up on her and giving Marinette mini heart attacks.

From behind he quickly hits a pressure point causing the other boy to fall unconscious.

Using her ALMIGHTY GUARDIAN OF THE MIRACULOUS powers, Ladybug takes Adrien's ring away and places a spell on him that makes it so he will never be able to use another miraculous ever again.

After they take Adrien home Marinette gives Damian the ring and Night Prowler is born.

He promises to do everything in his power to make sure that Selina and his family doesn't find out for the sake of his pride.

We'll see how that goes.

Night Prowler first officially appeared during an akuma named 'Break Dancer'.

Ironically, she was a ballerina that had to drop out of the finals in a competition because she broke her right leg the day before the show.

She could turn civilians into back up dancers and forced them to perform against their will.

They also worked as minions who would attack the duo for her while she stayed a safe distance away.

It was pretty obvious that the akumatized item was the music box held inside the bag that Break Dancer had slung around her shoulders but the real question was how could they get to it without becoming attacked by the backup dancer or becoming one of them.

Luckily (eheheh), a car with an open window playing music just happened to pass by before driving off.

Before it drove off, the music coming from the car was loud enough to play over the music box which caused some of the minions to become free again and run off.

Ladybug called her lucky charm and a Bobby pin landed in her hand.

As she looked around she noticed a store a couple blocks away that had a couple radios.

Unfortunately, the store was locked and closed.

Fortunately, she knew how to pick locks and a Bobby pin did come from her lucky charm soooo......

Who is she to deny literal gods.

They break into the store and grab a radio, and a speaker and rush over to where the akuma was causing chaos.

They turn on the radio, connect the speaker and turn the volume on as loud as it can go before flipping through the stations for a good song.

If they're gonna fight with music in the background they're gonna be picky about it and wont settle for anything other than epic.

While fighting they eventually get swept up in the music and end up singing along.

It's nothing less than full on majestic.

When the fight is over and the akuma is purified they find out that someone recorded it and posted it on the internet as well.

Now everyone knows that the beloved hero of Paris and her new partner were the two people singing on that balcony.

Ummmmm.....

Good thing that the video quality was trash right?

If it weren't for that their identities would've been busted the moment they started singing in hero form.

Luckily there aren't many people other than Damian that know what Marinette's singing voice sounds like so they're okay.

Well.... They WERE okay,

Until a certain rockstar and his agent came across the two videos and put two and two together.

So now King Sting (bee!jagged) and Peridot (turtle!penny) have joined the team.

Poor Penny, now she has to deal with two gremlin children and a some sort of bizarre man-child.

The next akuma confused the group quite a bit.

He didn't really do anything but sit on a rooftop waiting for the miracle team to show up.

They were all suspicious of him at first but when they did reveal themselves to him he explained his situation.

He was akumatized because his favorite rock band broke up but he didn't really want to take their miraculouses away.

He just asked if they could perform another song for him and he would give his akumatized item to them.

They all sorta looked at eachother and collectively went 'screw it why not' and sang another song.

If they were great before, they are absolutely AMAZING now.

Well that's what happens when you add a famous rockstar to a team of singing superheros I guess.

The akuma was blown away and true to his word handed over the rolled up picture in his pocket and was purified despite of Hawkmoth's nagging.

Haha screw you Hawky.

This time the ordeal was recorded by a news station and the 'hand over the akuma in exchange for a song' thing became a trend.

There were still normal akuma's that didn't follow follow it but those were far flung between.

It seems like Hawkmoth was getting annoyed by this so there started being less akuma attacks over the months.

Because of this some people were actively trying to get upset to attract one of the purple butterflies.

They traded one good thing for another I guess.

To stop that from happening the group started performing in public as superheros during concerts and festivals.

Because of this they became quite well known outside of Paris as well.

Is it ironic that more people know them as a band rather than a superhero team now?

When Marinette learned that they could change what their superhero costumes looked like if they put enough will into it she squealed.

Marinette designs superhero performance costumes for them whenever they have a festival to play at.

Whenever asked about their outfits they always reply with MDC.

Marinette's business gets really popular after that.

And since no one knows who MDC really is, she doesn't have to worry about the whole "Oh no me and my family are gonna be in danger!" thing

It's a win win!

Overtime they basically become a second (or third for some people) family to eachother.

Damian becomes more 'kid like' and open to others,

Marinette becomes more confident and overall happier,

Jagged gets to hang out with his awesome niece and her 'maybe more than just a friend',

And Penny gets a new outlet for stress and has so many more crazy stories to tell people.

One day while she's in the living room on the sofa watching 'The AristoCats' Damian just barges into the room and dramatically flops over onto of her.

He just lays there with his head in her lap and the rest of his body sprawled on the couch.

After everything that has happened this is normal for them now.

Without asking any questions or talking at all they just watch the movie together with the occasional remark or quip between them.

Around half way through the movie Jagged kicks down the door, effectively scaring the crap out of the two teens, while Penny follows behind him with an apologetic look on her face.

At first Jagged was yelling about something having to do with'Fang' and 'Dragon' and 'Miraculous' but after taking in the domestic atmosphere of the room he just sits down on the floor and joins in on watching the movie.

Penny, shaking her head in both amusement and exasperation, sits down on another chair and does the same.

While combing through Damian's hair with her fingers Marinette looks around the room.

'My life can't get any more complicated, can it?'

Oh boy, she just jinxed it.

This is just an idea I've had bouncing around in my head for awhile and I couldn't resist the urge to write it out. I AM planning on making a part 2 so if you like this keep an eye out for that. I'm by no means a fast writer though so it will take a while. But then again not many people will probably read this soo.... Yeah.