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themanthemyththeverite · 4 years ago

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New Days

A decade ago, dreams had been easy to come by. You had been barely but a teenager, stumbling your way through school, blundering over social interactions with barely pubescent morons, arguing over the most useless simplicities with your parents. Life seemed so shaky, yet still so certain to you then, a clear path to college ahead of you, where you hoped you would eventually go on to graduate school and earn yourself enough distinction to land a solid job, maybe pull a long-term girlfriend with you in the process, get settled, then mess around for a few years before getting married, start a family, live through your middle years with relative peace and the occasional crisis, transition into old age peacefully and die happily, content and warmed by the comfort of a large, loving network of friends and family.

But times had changed.

Everything had changed.

That much was evident to you as you laid on a makeshift bed, a darkened room of the abandoned hospital around you, your left arm extended onto a desk for operation.

Your prosthetic arm.

You certainly never saw that one coming.

It was a metallic arm, resistant to rust and corrosion, filled with wires and plating to communicate properly with your mental impulses, an intricate machine, an extension of your body that was held in place to your shoulder socket by several tightly drilled screws, embedded tightly into your flesh like the shrapnel that had torn through your body that day.

But on the exterior of that mechanical, cold steel surface there were scratches of quiet, reserved emotions, colorful phrases scrawled on the edges, some fading, some still there. Phrases that warned you of the dangers of dying, and the impeding murder that would follow. Others were warm-hearted and sappy.

On the inside, there was a small compartment, a tiny space just above the wrist with nothing inside. It had been designed to carry smoke grenades, but those had been used up long ago, instead now housing a small (but empty) bottle of hand sanitizer for more presentable means.

Silently, the operation began.

There was pain, then a rush of fear as you felt the familiar process of your arm slowly being disassembled, opened up mechanically like a power box. It had been a long time since your last check-up, and your near-death experience surely didn’t help as a small cascade of sand poured out of the cracks and gaps onto the floor. There was a crackle, a twitch, sudden impulses running through your mind that forced your hand to clench and unclench as the technician tested the gears of your body, manipulating you like a puppet.

You flexed your machine bicep, forearm, tricep, even your deltoid under the dexterous fingers of the mechanic, fiddling and rewiring parts to improve performance, to make it a more efficient tool. It was silent again, then your arm went limp, the connection of the wiring having been severed from your brain.

Several tense moments passed as the technician stared down intently at your exposed inner arm, fingers intently looping and connecting various little gadgets, adjusting measurements and tweaking screws.

“I’m going to have to recalibrate your arm,” the masked worker said suddenly, her voice coming out muffled from under the sound of a blowtorch she was using to weld the arm shut again and from the metal visor that protected her face. You just nodded, your throat bone-dry.

The pain came back again, a temporarily pleasurable feeling until it quickly escalated, flooding over your mind like an endless inundation of acid. Your vision turned spotty; were you crying? Were you screaming? You couldn’t even tell through the skull-splitting headache that took you over like a drug. Definitely the craziest, trippiest shit you’d ever felt.

Nausea. Dizziness. Anxiety.

Your memories flashed through your head, various embarrassing incidents, prideful incidents, incidents where you had truly felt happy. It was like watching a television program.

You could hardly breathe, gasping like a fish out of water when everything suddenly stopped, your body returned to normal, heartbeat slowing, eyes blinking back tears as your technician leaned over, pushing up the metal face mask to reveal a kind, familiar face smiling wistfully down at you with what she had been looking for in hand.

It was a tiny bullet, buried inside of the maze of wires, having pierced through the side of your body before lodging itself in the crook of your elbow.

Her name was Yoohyeon, and she was the only part of your planned future that had come true. The only part of your life that had mattered more to you than life itself, the only living reason for fighting and rebelling. Reason enough to take the bullet. Reason enough to collapse in the middle of a wasteland, starving and thirsty, with the expectation to never get back up again.

You wouldn’t have gotten back up again if not for her and her squad, scavenging in unsafe territory for spare munitions and food, running into your motionless body, partially covered in sand and marked only by the sheathe of the hand-crafted dagger she had made for you before you had left. You remembered hearing Dami’s voice. Or maybe it was Siyeon’s? Bora’s? Even while lucid you could no longer recall, but you knew that you could feel Yoohyeon’s thin arms wrap around you, pulling you off the ground and lifting you all the way back to their hidden base of operations in a mental asylum. Even more acutely, you could have sworn you felt drops of rain fall onto your face, even as the hot desert sun shined down mercilessly.

But who really knew? The mind of a starved, delirious and injured man is truly not one to be trusted.

“Are you okay?” she asked, a tender hand caressing your face as if to soften to last thirty seconds of agony, wiping away some of the sweat that had built up on your forehead. “You really should take care of yourself better. Your arm looked in as bad shape as it’s ever been in.”

Her fingers tapped the sheets of metal rhythmically, her eyes boring into her work. “Honestly, it’s a miracle it didn’t just break down with all of the sand interfering with the wiring...”

Her voice trailed off as you breathed heavily for several moments, closing your eyes again and sagging into the blankets while Yoohyeon carefully held your cold, metal hand in her tiny palms, the feeling of her warmth relaxing you, even though you knew it was probably freezing to her.

Your eyes traced and retraced her features, high cheekbones, sharp nose, silky hair, a dazzlingly timid smile waiting to top it all off, and you had no idea how you had survived for so long without the sight of her, alone and struggling in the desert without any hope of salvation.

Then the silence came deafeningly around the two of you, a flustered blush burning through both of your cheeks awkwardly, the tension rising.

Say something, you moron.

But what? You were somehow dying to speak, yet your mind was entirely blank on everything you wanted to say.

How long had it been? Six months? A year? Two years?

“Y-Yoohyeon...”

She nodded quickly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and leaning in to listen to your raspy voice, struggling to make out the words to communicate the overwhelming feeling of loss in your gut.

When you hesitated, she quickly backed off, thinking that you were trying to communicate something else. “It’s okay, don’t talk right now. I’ll get you some water and-”

“...I-I’m sorry,” you croaked out through a dry throat, your fingers clenching around hers as she began to move towards the bottled water, a look of heart-wrenching melancholy on her face as she slowly turned to look down with a smile. Your voice was quiet and hoarse from a lack of use, cracking pathetically as if you were trying to hit high notes in a karaoke bar. “I’m so sor-”

“Shhhhhhh, don’t be,” she tried to assure you, even as her own voice began to break, her eyes watering with unshed tears that she dabbed out quickly with the corners of her sleeves. “You need to drink something, you’re dehydrated.”

She tried to pull away again but your newly fixed arm held fast, holding her back with you tightly, but not too tightly.

“S-Stay,” you coughed out, groaning at the pain in the gunshot wound in your side. “Please?”

So with a reluctant sigh, she sat back down on the stool, holding your hand tightly while you looked as pale as death on the bed.

“You’re just as clingy as ever,” she mumbled quietly, tracing random patterns on your palm distractingly.

“It’s just the sand, I’m sure.” Your tone was in jest, but your expression was mixed with anguish as another jolt of pain rumbled through you with striking effect. “Fuck, that burns.”

The roaring silence resumed, a flood of languishing awkwardness dancing around the room the same way Muhammad Ali had done in his fights with Sonny Liston.

“Listen, I-”

“Minji and the others came back later than planned,” Yoohyeon interrupted with an almost monotonous, concrete inflection grittily coming out of her throat. “They tried not to tell me, but...I knew the instant I saw their faces.”

It was poisonous, each word, like vomit, stomach bile, lurching out of her like curses that she didn’t mean but had to say.

“They all thought—I thought—you were dead.”

Her eyes, her brilliant, brilliant eyes that shined like beacons truly seemed to dampen for a moment, dimming as she looked to the dirty floor in a daze.

“Yet, here you are,” she laughed softly, turning to place a hand on your cheek. “Just the same as the day when I found you.”

That day when she had found you, bleeding out on the doorstep of your burning house, your family’s corpses strewn around you while you struggled to stay conscious with a grievous arm injury.

You had to swallow another bout of tears at the thought, her hand softly tracing your messy jawline and weak stubble that had begun to build up under your chin.

“A lot has changed,” she said with a certain finality, staring down into your eyes with nostalgia, despair, anger, surprise, happiness, hope.

At her words, you chuckled quietly, your own hand rising to cover hers on your face. “I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.”

A beat.

“I tried, I really did, it’s just when the ringing and the gunshots stopped and the... the...ugh, everything...they were just gone.”

For a moment, her eyes stared into yours, as if to try and read your mind for the truth.

“I woke up alone, surrounded by bodies and dust, rubble and blood, half buried in concrete slabs of city pavement,” you said, though it sounded strangely desperate to you despite your steady voice. A plea for understanding.

She seemed to get the message, and slowly, she nodded at your explanation, soothingly cupping your face and brushing back your messy hair.

“I missed you so, so much, Yoohyeon, I-”

“I missed you too. And now, you’re back,” she whispered, interrupting you with a light punch to the chest, her other hand feeling the steady rise and fall of your heart within your ribcage. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, her hands feeling the warmth through your skin.

“Are you...are you really here?”

It suddenly dawned on you how surreal it must have seemed for her to suddenly uncover the body of an old friend buried in sand in the middle of the desert, and you laughed quietly, wiping away a happy tear before nodding, your own hands coming to rest over hers, basking in the warmth of the brightest, luckiest dream you ever had the privilege to have.

“I’m here.”

Slowly, after several moments of still, sweet tranquility, she moved onto the bed, curling up next to you with a sigh of contentment, her hands tilting your head to face her as she gazed at you in a way that...god, you just wanted to freeze time and stare back into her eyes forever, to drift off in this tiny bubble of time and drift off into the abyss, spending eternity with the person you loved.

The time you had spent apart, the aching in your gut that had called you back somehow, all the way to the place where you wanted to be the most. All of it was too good to be true, and certainly too shocking to be confined to something as substantive as time.

But alas, seconds ticked by, and just as you were leaning in, your lips closing the distance, there was a quiet shuffle, a creak of the door, and a crack of light slipped in like a thief at dead of night.

“What are you two doing?”

You, as well as Yoohyeon, jumped, turning to see an amused Dami peer into the dark room from the doorway.

“What?”

“What are they doing?”

“What’s going on?”

“I know you guys care about each other and everything, but can you save the fucking for-”

A scandalized gasp.

“Bora!”

You both knew that your little reunion would have to wait as your friends burst into the room, swarming around you with knowing looks as Yoohyeon clambered out of the bed awkwardly, blushing when Bora whistled her approval.

“See? I told you, they were totally fonduing before we-”

“It’s none of our business, you nosy perv,” Minji shot back, smiling at you warmly as the rest of them crowded around your bed, observing your broken and battered self. It was a far cry from the unwavering and stubborn person you used to be, but all of you knew it was only a matter of time before you would return to that state of naive self-confidence. “How are you doing?”

“I’m quite well, tha-”

“Where’ve you been?” interrupted Gahyeon with an inquisitive tick of the lips, while Dami looked on with the same chic expression of indifference she always wore.

You opened your mouth to speak when there was a loud clattering sound by the door, and six heads whipped around instantly to stare down the offending Yoohyeon, who had been trying to sneak out when she knocked over a piece of medical equipment.

“Where are you going?”

“Yeah, what are you doing?”

“Get back here!”

The voices of the people around you were deafening, but you couldn’t help but laugh along, ignoring the pain ringing out from your ribs.

It’s good to be home.

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

While the rest of the day was quick, breathless, passing by faster than a crack of lightning, the night was not so simple.

The darkness was unsettling, mysterious, dangerous, and though the crickets chirped as they always would, the shrill vibrations bouncing through the broken windows of the hospital, the shards of glass and smears of blood along the walls were a constant reminder of your collectively permanent fear.

There were no corpses, no, those had moved on long ago to find a new resting place, but as the wind blew in through the cracked holes, disturbing the dust and dirt on the floor, the shadows that flickered along with the moonlight seemed to carry a very real, physical power to them, like visages of monsters you would rather forget about.

You stood at the end of the hallway in front of a door, staring past the glaring moonlight that swirled through, watching the stairwell door as if something might burst through at any moment, despite the fact that you had been shown the thick wooden barricades against the other floors.

You could still hear the groans coming from the other side of those doors, the rattling chains that easily kept the doors shut, yet still seemed to strain and threaten to break with no warning.

At least I’m not alone anymore.

Shaking your head, you cleared your thoughts of paranoia and anxiety before turning to face the door in front of you.

It was a smooth door, clean, with the marks of someone having polished it haphazardly, wildly scrubbing it with little real regard for the cleanliness but really just to get it done with.

The door seemed large and wide, a great big hulking chunk of wood with a circular knob that looked just like the kind that was jammed and would slide out of your grip no matter how hard you tried to turn it to open. Oddly enough, the door was pissing you off, taunting you like it was some kind of sage, which was obviously a ridiculous thought since it was literally just a door.

Not only was this door just a door, the door next to the one you were facing looked exactly the same, but looked as normal and peaceful as any other door might look.

“I must be going crazy,” you mumbled, raising your hand to knock when you hesitated, wrist trembling in anticipation. Do I knock? Do I not knock? How hard do I knock? How many times should I knock? But again, if I don’t knock, what do I do? Maybe I should just knock. Or maybe not. Should I?

“If you’re looking for Yoohyeon, her room is one down,” came a voice, disinterested and bored from behind you, your hand lowering sheepishly at the knowledge someone had seen you fidget in front of door like a stalker. Seconds later, Dami pushed past you, opening the door and looking back at your awkward self still standing in front of the same door. “You’ve got things to sort out with her, I’m sure. Just don’t be too loud about it.”

You nodded dumbly, still frozen in place.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Do you need something?”

There was a beat of silence before you responded.

“No, I, um...thanks?”

Her gaze didn’t change, but she gave you a curt nod before shutting the door in your face, the sound echoing down the hall.

You could’ve sworn you heard a snort from behind the door, but you paid it no mind, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, your legs slowly shuffling forwards, stopping in front of the next door.

Robotically, almost subconsciously, your hand lifted, knuckles braced, before you rapped firmly against the door once, twice, then three times, every sound bouncing around the walls of the asylum. Maybe I’m crazy and I’m just dreaming this whole thing.

Then the door opened, revealing a cautious face, peering out curiously to see the source of the disturbance. Her eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of you, her door opening slightly more, candlelight illuminating her room brightly.

“Oh, hey. I actually...I wanted to see you,” she said quietly, chewing her bottom lip nervously before her usual toothy grin was back. “Come on in.”

Color.

That was your first though as you observed her room, bright shades of pink, yellow, blue, red, practically any sort of vibrant, neon color was present here, like some sort of dreamy bubble that existed apart from the reality you both lived in.

All of the color that stood out in the room were accentuated further by the abundance of candles lining every dark corner, lighting up the room like it was the Festival of Lights or something. Before, you might have laughed at the childish, almost ridiculous displays of innocence that were so useless when every day, neither of you knew if you might have to kill someone to survive. Yet now, as you stood in her room, smelling her faint scent, feeling the energy of her personality jump out around the walls, you simply enjoyed the fact that all of it was genuine and true, an honest representation of the kind of person Yoohyeon really was.

A soft, tender, misplaced girl in the middle of a freakish world that should never have happened.

“Now I know what you’re gonna say about the decor, but I swear-”

“I love it.”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, looking you up and down as if to make sure you were okay. “What?”

“I like it,” you repeated to her, laughing softly while brushing a hand over a tiny Pikachu toy that you had found for her as a gift when both of you were on a raid for supplies. “You still kept this thing?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she shot back, snatching it out of your hand before placing it back where it belonged on the shelf, amongst its other companions. “You gave it to me.”

Both of you took a moment to take in the nostalgia that drifted in the air, an inhalant that both of you breathed freely.

“I thought you hated this stuff.”

“Like I said, it’s probably just the sand,” you joked again, and she punched your arm gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed, a serious look crossing her face again.

You moved to sit down as well when your leg bumped into a plastic box, hidden out of sight on the floor. When you picked it up to inspect it, you were surprised to see that it was filled with wrinkled pieces of paper and tissue, all of which was absolutely crammed into it like little foldable sardines.

“What’s this?”

“That was from your birthday last year,” she mumbled as she took it from you, stuffing it back underneath the bed to your amusement.

“Wow, pretty late for a birthday gift,” you laughed, sitting next to her and taking her hands in yours, rubbing them together gently. Compared to the solid steel of your palm, her fingers were weak and soft, mere cotton in the grip of a rough machine. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”

She leaned away, pouting cutely to fight the smile on that was breaking out on her face like an infectious disease.

There was a lull in the conversation, but the comfort was clear to you, from the way she was smiling to the embarrassed side glances she was shooting at you.

“You know, when you stick out your lips like that you look exactly like a pufferfish.”

Finally, she laughed with you, her body leaning into your shoulder gently like a sack of potatoes, chin digging into the corner of your collarbone, eyes staring into yours, lips curving wryly. The air suddenly grew heavy in your lungs, the sudden density making you somewhat short of breath as your heart raced in your chest.

“I love you.”

A spur of the moment decision, a sudden phrase, filled with everything you had wanted to say to her while you were gone. From a logical perspective, it was a really stupid thing to say, but you didn’t have the heart to keep it contained any longer.

Really, it was impressive you hadn’t shouted it the instant you saw her.

She seemed to scan you for a second, pupils flicking up and down your face with a hopeful smile, that same boundless, yet wistful smile, so endless that it seemed to stretch that moment infinitely.

Then in that same instant, it was gone, that millisecond of time slipping through fingers infinitely quickly, and she looked down to the floor, suddenly noticing the white gauze poking out from under your shirt.

“What’s that?” she asked, changing the subject to more pragmatic matters.

“First person I met for two and a half years,” you chuckled, wincing a little when she touched the bandage gently with a hand, checking it instinctively. “Thought he was a funny little guy, until he tried to shoot me.”

She hardly even registered your words, fully focused on prodding at the hole in your side, her fingers pulling up your shirt with a sad sort of flourish.

“He what? Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

You laughed, pushing her gently when you saw how inordinately concerned she was, eyes widened comically.

“I’m fine, relax. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

“Still...”

She looked unconvinced.

“Do you want me to disinfect it again?”

“No, I’m fine,” you insisted but she ignored you, reaching under her bed and grabbing a separate plastic box, smaller, but filled to the brim with isopropyl alcohol packets. “Seriously, don’t waste that stuff on something like this.”

“It’s a gunshot wound, you moron,” she scolded. “Hold still.”

“It only grazed me.”

“Yet you passed out in the middle of the desert with it.”

She gave you a pointed look, and you relented, sighing as she tore open a small packet, wiping some of the dried blood and such that had bled through the gauze with a pained look on her face.

“You didn’t think this might be an important medical issue to tell me about?” she scoffed as she stood up, moving to grab other medical boxes when you stopped her, grabbing her hand while kneeling.

“Yoohyeon, I told you, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt, I’m not burning up with a fever, and I feel great! Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“You just thought ‘hey, gunshot wounds aren’t serious’? I mean, honestly, you’re such a fool sometimes, you know that?”

You laughed at her, standing up and pulling down you shirt, extending your arms triumphantly. “But I’m your fool.”

“If you keep up with the delirium act, I might just lock you up in a-”

You silenced her easily, your lips pressing against hers softly for the first time in years, yet still just as tender and gentle as you had always remembered it to be, and you let out a mental exhale, relaxing into the motions as she sent sparks flying through your brain, your bodies melting collectively into one big puddle of longing, finally colliding together after so long.

It was like a long awaited breath after a lengthy dive underwater, the first step of a pilgrim after having been at sea for months, the last sentence in a multi-novel book series.

All of the tension in her body slipped away and softened, smoothing out like a piece of paper, creasing and flattening with perfect reversibility, and your right arm naturally found its way around her back, holding her close, while your left supported the back of her head, softly stroking her long, thick sheets of hair.

Perhaps you needed to breathe. Maybe you needed food. Water. But years could have passed by in the blink of an eye, her lips on yours, kissing you cleanly, filled with nothing but devotion from her to you, and you to her. It was quiet. Chaste, almost, and if not for the look that she gave you after she pulled away, you might have assumed it was over.

But no, it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

She pushed you back, forcing you to scoot backwards on the bed until you ran into the headboard, your lips still attached to hers as she curled her body around yours, limbs coiled and intertwined together like vines on the same tree. She rolled you over, straddling you on the soft mattress while your lips finally broke apart, breathing heavily.

“I missed you.”

Your quiet confession was heavy and weighted, even despite the fact it had been said before, and she smiled down on you, helping you pull off your shirt before taking her own off, leaving her in a thin, grayish bra.

“Prove it.”

What was meant to be a challenge to your words sounded more like a cry, an SOS, a plea for a night to remember, a night that burned and smoldered with emotion.

So you obliged, letting your hands start up at her face, touching every curve and contour of her nose, her cheeks, your thumb teasing her bottom lip before sliding to her neck, her collarbone, her bony shoulders, skinnier than ever from malnutrition. Then your hands moved down to her chest, squeezing a soft mound through her bra, a quiet moan tickling your ears as it came out.

Your metallic hand slipped around her, undoing the clasp singlehandedly just like you used to, and she laughed at your bravado. Even she had never figured out how you did it. “You haven’t forgotten any of your tricks, have you?”

You grinned cheekily up at her as you let one hand circle over her now-naked breasts. “I’ve dreamed about tonight—” your mouth nipped at the soft skin of her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark—“more than you could even know.”

You pinched a nipple, tugging it slightly as she began panting on top of you, eyes half-lidded and getting more needy by the moment. “Every single time I closed my eyes—” your free hand tickled her stomach, slipping further down to tease her wet sex—“this was all I could think about.”

“Yeah? Well—ah—what did you d-do to me?” She sighed as you pushed a finger into her, pumping slowly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You teased for a moment more, taking her other nipple into your mouth and sucking on it before withdrawing, your hands pushing on her shoulders so that you were the one sitting up and she was laying down, chest rising and falling steadily with each labored breath.

“Don’t worry,” you assured her with a soft smile. “We’ve got all the time in the world for me to show you.”

At your words, she nodded tentatively, and you quickly leaned down, pulling her legs apart and helping her undress, revealing her panties, damp with arousal. Your fingers tested the water, prodding at her slit, running up and down her puffy lips as she continued to squirm, breaths coming hot and heavy at your slow pace.

“P-Please, don’t tease,” she groaned quietly down to you, legs twisting around as you made quick work of her last piece of clothing, finally leaving her nude and natural beneath you, her own hands beginning to try and join you, but you stopped her.

“Patience, patience. Just relax,” you soothed, your tongue flicking out to taste her nectar, her distinct flavor from your memories flowing onto your tongue as you drifted it over her clit. “Remember when I ate you out in that closet while everyone else was eating in the same room?”

“H-How could I forget?” she said shakily back down to you, letting out a quiet moan when you slipped two fingers into her, letting them do their work inside while you teased her clit with your mouth. “You were very naughty.”

Her thighs quickly began to tighten around your head, holding you in place as she shuddered, eyes fluttering closed from the electric pleasure, filling her up like air in a balloon. Her hands ran through your hair, tugging and playing with your hair as she struggled to contain herself, her whole body melting at the end of your tongue while you continued unabated.

“You just taste so good,” you mumbled as you ate her out, almost smothered by how tightly her legs were wrapped around your head, her hands pushing you as far as they could into her sopping wet heat. “I guess I couldn’t help myself then.”

She might have tried to respond, but you chose that moment to deliver a particularly flat and harsh lick to her clit, and the reaction was instantaneous, her back arching into the air, a loud moan of satisfaction filling your ears as she felt herself tip dangerously towards her climax.

“O-Oh my god, please, right there, right there,” she rambled out as your fingers curled in her, stretching her out further. Her body was tense, taut, like a bow notched with an arrow of pure, sensual release that was just begging to be released.

But despite it all, she held back admirably, eyes squeezed shut, cries growing louder and louder, higher and higher, until all that you could hear were her whines of stimulation, mixed with soft whimpers of desire that rang in your ears like sweet, sweet melodies.

“I’m so close, god, please,” she whispered to you, hair spread out everywhere, head tilting to look down at you while you whittled away at her endurance, that tiny string that tethered her to conscious thought, just on the boundary of momentary, excruciating bliss. “Are you really going to keep teasing me?

“No, no, there’ll be nights for more of that later,” you said, temporarily pausing with your tongue though your fingers continued to piston in and out of her. “Tonight, I just want to see you cum.”

Her eyes cracked open slightly at your words before shutting again, another one of your fingers slipping inside of her as you watched her completely fall apart, yet still stay composed, your fingers slowly accelerating, drenched in her fluids. “You know, I love it when you’re loud...”

She shook her head, as if to shake off some inner demon, but you continued.

“...and when you tremble and fight it...”

She only thrashed more, her hand coming to cover her mouth as her walls tightened and tightened and tightened around your fingers.

“...Come on. Just let go,” you coaxed softly before you lowered your head again, sucking on her clit with just enough pressure to force her to finally give in, her orgasm washing over her in a rush, a wave of electric tremors running through her body, her hands tugging on your hair blindly, her legs wrapping around you even more tightly, and your personal favorite: the long, hauntingly beautiful moan that seemed to float past the hand covering her mouth and straight into your head, ringing like an addictive tune.

Her eyes opened slowly as she got over the aftershocks of her climax, fixating on you intently with a look of half-satisfaction and tenderness.

“You’re overdressed,” she pointed out, weakly sitting up and crawling to the edge of the bed, where you had slipped your pants off, tossing them away behind you at her words.

Her fingers, dexterous as ever, slipped into your boxers, feeling your throbbing length up and down, gently fondling your shaft and balls with an angelic touch. She looked up at you, smiling as she saw the way you flinched at her touch, your cock already rock hard at her stimulation.

“I’ve got a few things to show you too,” she teased amusedly, pulling down your restraining garment and letting your length sit in her grasp, just in front of her face and her waiting lips.

Slowly, with her eyes still locked onto yours, she let you slip into her mouth, her lips cushioning the sides of your shaft softly, the heat of her mouth instantly enveloping your cock with an irresistible warmth, her tongue gently swirling around your tip and tasting some of the precum that leaked out.

Her cheeks were only slightly hollowed, her head moving back and forth slowly, focusing on the first few inches first, covering you in her spit, soft hums emanating from her throat while she slurped on your cock, doing her best to please you.

“You haven’t forgotten anything either,” you murmured down to her, one hand petting her head approvingly as she slowly began to expand her horizons, taking more and more of you down her throat and making you groan at the feeling. “God, you’re good at that.”

She smiled through a mouthful of cock, finally pulling back for breath while jerking you off, her mouth quickly moving down to suckle on your balls, taking each one in for a few seconds before letting them go with a pop.

“Does this feel good?” she asked, observing you inquisitively while you squirmed in her grip, firm and soft at the same time.

“Fucking amazing,” you replied, and she looked pleasantly embarrassed for a moment before she took you into her mouth again, letting your cock slide all the way back this time so that it hit the back of her throat, a choked gurgle vibrating against your shaft.

Your hands instinctively pressed against the back of her head, holding her down for a few moments until she tapped your leg, withdrawing with a loud gasp and a few coughs, her eyes watering yet still as enchanting as ever.

“I want you to fuck me now,” she whispered, letting go of your cock with slight reluctance, climbing back onto the bed gingerly before beckoning to you while on her back, legs spread, wrapping around your waist tightly as you slowly moved over her, positioning your cock in front of her glistening pussy.

The first entrance was smooth, warm, comfortable, just like the rest of the room felt, like how everything and anything that you did with Yoohyeon made you feel.

It was an unidentifiable feeling of belonging; that final Tetris piece to fill up a row, that moment when you hit the cue ball just right into the left corner hole off of an angled rebound from the wall of the table.

Both of you let out a tiny gasp, Yoohyeon’s legs tightening around your waist as her fingers pressed down on your back, consciously trying not to scratch you, not that she would think to do that later.

“Are you okay?”

You were genuinely concerned, watching her expression to make sure she had adjusted, but she shrugged you off, giggling inches away from your face.

“I’m fine,” she replied, smiling up at you. “Just keep going.”

You leaned down to kiss her, softly pressing your lips against hers again as you slowly bucked your hips into her, pushing down all the way to the hilt and relishing in the warm, wet, and tight feeling of her pussy contracting around your cock, squeezing gently.

Everything else ceased to exist, your focus singling out the softness of her mouth on yours, her warm tongue pushing and pulling against yours, her breasts pushing up against your chest with every thrust of your hips, moaning into your mouth all the while.

She was nothing but pliant, inch by inch of her smooth skin opening up for you as your hands skimmed all over her; her head, her cheeks, her chest, abdomen, ass, all of it burning up to the touch like a fever, a delirium-driven vision.

“Fuck, you stretch me so well,” she whined, hands scratching gently at the back of your neck, then not so gently when you sped up, your rhythm slowly escalating to satisfy both of your growing needs, the bed rocking with your movements and bumping against the wall gently.

Her forehead was pressed tightly against yours, sweat from your bodies slickening the surfaces of your skin as she struggled to catch her breath, feeling every exhale of air from her lips blow against your face, quiet moans beginning to slip past her inhibitions and ring around the room, steadily gaining volume and traction in her throat.

“O-Oh my god,” you groaned out, your own breathing beginning to feel shallow, strained, her body wringing out all of your energy, chipping away at your stamina slowly, your cock throbbing inside of her ever-shifting heat. “You’re even tighter than I remembered.”

She hardly even heard your words, too focused on the way you were plunging into her, the way you were burying yourself roughly yet tenderly into her, pushing her limits, leaving her speechless and seeing stars. Her fingernails had forgotten their earlier gentleness, clawing into your back, scratching you in an attempt to relieve herself of the relentless waves of pleasure that beat against her.

“C-Cum with me,” she whispered, almost pleadingly, her eyes cracking open with superhuman effort as you watched her struggle to maintain any sense of composure.

“Are you...are you sure?” you panted, feeling yourself slowly give way to the thought of release, held back only by sheer willpower, your endurance slowly beginning to break down as you began chasing your own end, your own climax.

“Just trust m-me, fuck!” she cried out, audibly needier, and her eyes rolled up into her head suddenly, her limbs shuddering around you violently, her pussy contracting tightly around your cock with a rush of her fluids, trying desperately to push you to the same end as her. Her head tilted back limply, moans tapering off into soft whimpers as you finished a moment after, exploding inside of her with a groan of exertion, collapsing on top of her body before rolling off slowly, careful not to crush her, your collective fluids spilling out onto the sheets.

Hopefully it wouldn’t stain.

“Fuck,” you gasped, the only word that could come to your mind as you tried to regain your bearings. “Fuck.”

Oh my god.

Pain began to return to your body, having temporarily been blocked out by the intensity of the moment, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, Yoohyeon whimpering softly next to you while you curled closer to her, tucking the sheets up to her chin and wrapping your good arm under her, pulling her close.

You laid there with her in silence, unwinding for several moments, minutes, maybe even an hour, lying against her body while listening to her breathing eventually level out, lazily tickling her thighs and occasionally drawing out a surprised little gasp when your fingers grazed her clit.

In some ways, you were almost glad that it was over. After all, you couldn’t help but wonder how she felt about you after you had been gone for so long. And certainly, living in the hellscape you were living in, waiting was never a game anyone wanted to play with a loved one missing in action.

“You know, it’s been 813 days,” she murmured, her hands running through your hair and touching your back, trying to soothe some of the pain from when she had pulled and scratched it roughly. “I’ve waited 813 days and 812 nights just to feel that again.”

“I hope it was worth the wait,” you replied, laughing softly, despite the truth in her words that bit harshly at your conscience. It must have showed on your face, because her hands moved to your cheeks, lifting your head up until your eyes were locked on hers.

“Every second.”

Maybe it was the scent of sex, the feeling of consummation that you felt then, that quelled your self-hatred, your constant disappointment in yourself. Maybe it was the warmth, the soft comfort in Yoohyeon’s words and her hands, gently holding you. Or maybe it was her eyes, shining stars that glimmered down at you brighter than the Sun itself.

But something, whatever it was, in that moment as Yoohyeon looked down at you earnestly, honestly, with genuine care, made you feel as light as a cloud, temporarily unburdened by the guilt of mistakes made, lives lost.

It made you feel as if the days to come, the next days, might be better, brighter than the last, even despite the hellish circumstances you were in.

Maybe.

That was your last thought before your eyes drifted shut, Yoohyeon’s body wrapped around yours warmly like a protective cocoon, head buried in her soft midsection, all of the tension and weight gone from your body, and you were drifting, drifting, drifting away with the waves of your dreams; dreams of a world without bloodshed and death, of pineapples and pizza, of gummy bear breakfast burritos (and none of the dental issues that would accompany them, not that there were dentists in the apocalypse to tell you anymore anyways).

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

You woke up early the next morning, her body still attached to you at the hip, acting like a shield around you against the sunlight that streamed into the room and illuminated your upper bodies, wrapped in the sheets. Slowly, you yawned, carefully beginning to move out of her grasp when she suddenly smacked you on the arm.

“Ow, what was that for?”

Her eyes were still closed, a pouting smile on her face as she pulled you in closer, wrapping her arms around you even more tightly. “For trying to leave me again. Asshole.”

You stopped struggling, letting her hug you close to her warmly, her body heat spreading against your nude form, relaxing your tense muscles against her as she kissed your broad back, from your metal shoulder to the other side, to the base of your neck and up towards the base of your hair when you turned around, cupping her face in your hands and kissing her.

It wasn’t a needy kiss, nor was it particularly soft or tender. It was just a kiss. A simple gesture, a promise of more to come. A promise that you would never leave her side again.

Yoohyeon, however, had other plans, and with a devilish smirk, she began to make the journey under the sheets when the door opened with a bang, the figure of Kim Bora storming in like a hurricane, making both you and Yoohyeon jump back in terror, pulling the sheets up to cover yourselves.

“KIM YOOHYEON!”

So today was one of those days, hmm?

Both of your ears rang painfully at her volume, involuntarily flinching backwards against the headboard as she glared at both of you.

“Did you think we were all deaf last night?”

She blushed, grinning sheepishly while hiding her embarrassed laughter.

“W-What?”

Bora rolled her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder in an exaggerated motion of annoyance.

“When I said to save the fucking for later, I didn’t mean for when the rest of us were trying to-”

Her angry rant was cut off by Minji quickly barging in, grabbing Bora by the arm and dragging her out with much effort.

“Hey, let go of me-”

“Don’t be ridiculous; let them have their morning together-”

“You stop being ridiculous! Do you wanna lose sleep for the rest of your life with that banging sound against the wall?”

“Oh, shush, you!”

“But-”

The rest of Bora’s retort was lost to muffled sounds of what must have been some sort of food being shoved into her mouth, and she was arguing through a mouthful the whole way down the hall, silenced only after Minji pulled her back into her room, shutting the door with a bang that echoed down to you and Yoohyeon, both of you shocked at the spectacle.

Even Handong suddenly decided to peek in for a moment, observing the two of you with a little wave and a “good morning” before briskly walking off, presumably to find wherever breakfast was.

“I guess we better get dressed,” you chuckled, glancing over at Yoohyeon who was still red in the face, shell-shocked at all of the sudden commotion. “Yoohyeon?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, we probably should,” she stammered, quickly clambering out of the bed and finding her clothes you had unceremoniously tossed away into some corner of the room, while you did the same, and the rest of the morning passed relatively uneventfully, with the exception of a moderately sulky Bora sitting at the makeshift table in the former kitchen area of the hospital.

Breakfast was relatively bland, yet still tinged with an oddly positive flavor as you watched Yoohyeon bicker and enjoy the company of her best friends, their shrill cries and knowing glances sent your way clearly telling you everything that they were discussing, not that you knew why they had to talk about it apart from you.

You supposed they could always just ask?

“Last night sounded eventful,” Dami remarked, smirking at Yoohyeon.

On second thought...

But other than the slightly awkward atmosphere that was easily broken by the usual open personalities of the others, there was only one other moment of slight discomfort throughout the rest of the day.

The moment when you had to leave again, forced to go out on another scouting mission to find food.

Minji had carefully organized the jobs of everyone in the building, including you, and though Yoohyeon protested the assignment, you insisted that it was fine, much to her chagrin.

“It’s not fair if I don’t follow the rules like everyone else,” you said, as calmly and as gently as you could, holstering a small silenced pistol, a cricket bat you had found on the street, and the dagger Yoohyeon had so painstakingly made for you. “Please understand.”

She looked upset for a moment, but handed you your arm sheathe, a soft cloth to wear over your prosthetic arm.

“Don’t die, idiot.”

Her tone was probably supposed to be threatening, but it only ended up sounding more like a whimpering puppy, upset that their fellow pet was being taken to the vet without them.

You stopped at the door to the stairwell, walking back the few meters to where she was standing, cupping her face in your hands and kissing her, just as you had that morning.

This isn’t the last time.

For just a second, sparks flew in your mind again, and you felt her anxious tears against your cheeks before you pulled back, pressing your forehead against hers, kissing the crown of her head again for good measure.

“I love you,” she whispered to you, hugging you tightly and burying her head into your chest, squeezing tightly, as though she might never see you again.

“I might never see her again,” you thought, reflecting consciously on the idea of your death, yet, you still couldn’t bring yourself to regret anything.

No. I don’t regret any of it.

“You found me, Yoohyeon. You’ll find me again, and again, and again, even if you’ve stopped searching, and even if one of those times isn’t here, or on this earth,” you murmured, tears coming to your own eyes as fear momentarily consumed you, uncertainty and worry clouding your mind.

You didn’t want to die.

But you wanted to live.

And sacrifices had to be made.

She took a moment to compose herself, staring up into your face, her fingers tracing every edge and rough piece of skin that had been weathered by the sun and sand.

“See you later?”

She knew you could never guarantee an answer to such a question, but you chuckled nonetheless, nodding though you felt as though you might explode in melancholy.

“I’ll see you later.”

Reluctantly, she let go of you, letting your hands drop from hers as you backed away, slowly slipping out of the door, entering the outside world with a new sense of resolve, a new need to return. Even just at the entrance, you felt the urge to walk back in, to refuse to go, to stay by her side and never leave that comfort.

But it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

You had a future to nurture and a promise to keep.

So as you descended the grimy and bloody steps of the stairwell, carefully listening for telltale groans and croaks, you couldn’t help but smile a little, and a little song playing in your head despite the ever-present danger.

Even if I get tired, when your voice reaches me...

You popped open the compartment of your prosthetic arm, humming softly while checking the inside for any potential changes or efficiencies, only to find a picture of Yoohyeon resting there on top of the hand sanitizer, a cheshire grin on her face frozen on the film forever.

...a new day comes to me again.

A door suddenly opened behind you, sounds of spazzy shuffling echoing throughout the hollow stairwell, and you jumped, looking up at the source of the noise, only to see Yoohyeon.

“If you’re going...”

She adjusted the sniper rifle on her back, shifting her small bag of medicine and supplies to the side as she jogged down the steps to you.

“...I’m coming with you.”

Your smile grew just a little wider.

Indeed, it was a new day.

A/N: Hello! I’ve seen way too much Yoohyeon lately (not really possible, but you know what I mean), so I decided to write a fluffier piece for one of my personal favorite idols out there, especially since I listened to Dreamcatcher for the first time within the past 6 months (THEY’RE BOPS, I TELL YOU, BOPS). Anyways, I wanted to tone down on the smut a little because of my fluffy smooth-brained writing tendencies, so this is basically what happened. Also, I hope all you B99 maniacs liked the little reference I made (Nine-nine!), and as always, asks are welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Also, a shoutout to @nsfwflint for inadvertently inspiring me to write this :)

#yoohyeonsmut #dreamcatcherfanfiction #kpopfanfiction #fluffysmut #softsmut

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phanfictioncatalogue · 3 years ago

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Fluffy Smut (6) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: May 5th, 2024

part one, part two, part three, part four. part five

4 Ways to Spice up your Sex Life (ao3) - Full_Moon_Lover

Summary: Phil thinks it's time for them to move out of their apartment and into a house of their own and what better way to surprise his boyfriend than to look at some property websites to try and narrow down their options for potential houses. If only Dan didn't stumble on one of these websites on Phil's laptop and come to a completely different conclusion.

Phil was tired of him and wants to move out. It was now up to Dan to get back Phil's interest in him and what better way to do that than to look on the internet for ways to spice up a relationship? Follow Dan's adventures as he follows the steps on a love article to try and spice up his and Phil's sex life. Nothing can go wrong....

all sorts of not sleeping (ao3) - kay_okay

Summary: Insomnia can be caused by an infinite number of reasons. Here are five of theirs.

Beetles Bath And Beyond - phantasticlizzy

Summary: Phil just wanted a relaxing bath. Just wanted to soak in the warm water for an hour, listen to some music and read some Buffy comics. What he didn’t want, however, was to have his bath with a million beetles surrounding him from all sides, turning his relaxing time into an actual nightmare.

familiar faces (ao3) - watergator (orphan_account)

Summary: there's a handsome tesco delivery man standing in phil's doorway and he can't figure out where he recognises him from. until he does

get my good side (ao3) - watergator (orphan_account)

Summary: dan and phil try to film a sex tape (just for them)

Ignorance is (definitely not) bliss (ao3) - RachelIsWriting

Summary: After Dan surprises Phil by agreeing to his stupid fake relationship plan to impress the bosses at his company we spend the week with them in New York. Where Phil tries desperately to think of everything but Dan, and Dan tries everything he can to make sure that doesn’t happen.

insatiable (ao3) - gogystyle

Summary: What happened before Dan took those three selfies.

I Will Be Loving You (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Dan and Phil spend their first Valentine's Day out of the closet.

Kiss Me Through The Camera (ao3) - PoisonWrites

Summary: "Phil wasn’t a stranger to seducing someone with just his words, so why was flirting with Dan the equivalent of digging to China with a teaspoon?"

Luxury (ao3) - JudeAraya

Summary: It was early, the dark edging on predawn translucent. The birds were only beginning to chirp. Here, nestled so deep in nature, the Costa Rican jungle all around their treehouse hotel, Dan could feel the hush of morning rising all around him. Phil was still asleep, breaths deep and even. Phil was exhausted--they both were really--but this was something Dan wanted to share with him.

Mornings - xDeathMelodiesx

Summary: ‘The raven haired man buried his face in Dan’s neck and kissed the silky, smooth skin there, “Morning baby.”

Dan shifted a bit so he could get better access to the delicate flesh, a breathy sigh of content escaping his lips. Soft lips continued to move across the expanse of skin, Dan’s breathing getting heavier by the minute. He could feel himself grow in his underwear, arousal beginning to pool in his abdomen.’

one second (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: When you spend your life getting glimpses of a myriad of possible futures every time you get a little emotional, you tend to lose sight of reality, of the present; a bad day turns into a bad week because all you see are the worst-case futures. You get a little excited about something, things start to go your way, but then all you can see are the realities where things are even better. Life tends not to measure up.

Or the one where Dan meets Phil on a plane, and maybe reality starts to become better than even Dan could predict.

Saved (ao3) - enbybxtch

Summary: With a previously abusive relationship and wrists littered with scars, Dan won't let himself fall for the boy who is trying to help him. But what happens when he does? He starts falling harder than ever.

seasons change (ao3) - sadlybunny

Summary: The boy is irresistible. He’s got that “couldn’t be bothered” attitude that has always intrigued Phil, always made him want to know Danny a little bit better. Phil knows falling in love with his best friend’s younger brother is wrong. But he just can’t seem to do the right thing.

The Literal Other Half (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Dan arrives at Manchester University and feels a bit lost, luckily he gets an upperclassman as a tour guide and mentor of sorts. Coffee dates, friends and a lot of laughter finally enter his life - along with love.

The neighbors (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: Dan and Phil have a little fun in the hotel room. Kath needs caffeine.

You are Beautiful (ao3) - ironicallyrad (snakedolls)

Summary: Prompt:. “dan doesn’t want to have sex cuz he’s feeling insecure about his body (maybe it’s after Christmas and he gained a bit of weight or something) so Phil makes him stand in front of a mirror and look at himself while he undressed him and gives him lil kisses all over and tells him everything he like about him and then they do the do and just really cute fluffy smut that focuses on making dan happy”

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #sex tw #smut #fluff #fluffysmut #fluffysmut masterlist

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grogusmum · 1 year ago

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The fluffysmut I hold so dear!

Listen, Catigail Radio Wallet, I am warning you! I love them, young lady, and how dare you!

And i cant i am just babbling. Sorry, lovely! As always, Marcus allowing himself this kind of pleasure can only happen when taken in hand. I imagine Dieter's praise must be addictive to him and why he's jealous. Someone like Dieter is like a mythical beast to him - Is he real? Is he mine? Am I allowed to have him? I am making no sense! I'm a puddle!

*runs off crying*

I love them!!

Home

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter takes Marcus to a party in the valley. WC: 4.5K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists. Anal sex, dirty talk, kissing, cum play, semi-public sex. Small angsty moments. Yearning. So much yearning. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy). A lot of purple prose and waxing poetic.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been a very very long time since I've shared any writing here. I don't have any good excuses other than real-life stressors, mental health and anxiety, and the overall stress of being on Tumblr really really got to me. I'm trying to ease my way back in. Slowly. I've really enjoyed catching up on all the amazing fics you guys have been writing. Thank you to everyone, still here or otherwise. Even when I was off dealing with irl stuff, I could feel the support.

Pretend Alleyways Masterlist II Main Masterlist

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

Marcus chewed at his nail bed, surveying the house from the backseat of his Uber. It was hardly the first time he’d pulled up to the Sherman Oaks home. He was comfortable with the routine at this point. Tapping in the code for the front gate with practiced ease. The same one Dieter had scribbled onto the back page of a forgotten script after that first night together in New York City, his cell ringing incessantly from his back pocket, a car waiting down the curb to whisk him away. Marcus swore he could still taste the mint and menthol on the actor’s breath when he stepped in close and pressed the paper into his hands, kissing him until his toes curled.

“Please say you’ll come visit.”

After that, it had been one strategically planned visit after the other. Marcus was almost mathematical in his process, arranging flights out west around his patrol schedule, switching shifts, and taking on extra duties just to rationalize the time away. Burning the candle at both ends but not caring even in the slightest, happy to run his tank on empty. He’d drive all fucking night if it meant more time with Dieter.

So he took to the task with a vigilant level of focus, texting details and arrival times, the actor responding with a barrage of emojis, always ending with a heart.

Marcus liked the way the little pixelated picture made his stomach flip.

Once together, it became less of a routine and more of a dance, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm that Marcus had no desire to predict. They would lose themselves in each other, wrapping tightly around the other, the heat impossible to turn away from. There were late nights and early mornings, the color of the sun replacing the hours on the clock. Sometimes, he would give up on sleep all together, content to match the actor’s eccentricities, watching Dieter move from room to room, minute to minute, until the other man would return to his arms.

But as each visit came to a close, Marcus would find himself falling back on easy habits, his mind already making plans and rearranging schedules, focusing on that instead of the overbearing weight of goodbye.

In the middle of one farewell, Dieter had grinned and nipped at his bottom lip, a tease curling around the curve of his cheek.

“Don’t worry so much about the vigilante shit, sweet boy. You’re welcome anytime.”

Marcus had frowned at that, but Dieter was unfazed, humming an off-key pop song under his breath before giving one more piece of advice.

Be spontaneous.

Marcus had gnawed on those two words the entire plane ride home, the concept both enticing and diabolical at once. He imagined all the ways he would have spoiled Dieter if they lived in the same zip code. Spur of the moment cups of coffee, flowers just because, nights in and out and everything in between. But even those daydreams felt out of reach, Marcus unable to let go of the need to control everything. Everything. Everything that he possibly could.

Except Deiter Bravo.

The actor was bound for overseas, a six-month shoot looming ahead, lonely and large. They had spent the weekend before much the same way they had any other. Twisted together, sweat and cum and lips and hands pressed into bare skin, ignoring the ticking of traitorous time. Cruel miles were taking the other man away from him, and Marcus couldn’t stop the swell of jealous fear flaring inside his heart.

Would he even be missed when the whole luminous, wonderful, exciting world was waiting for Dieter on the other side of the tarmac?

A deep cough from the front seat dragged him back to the present, and before he could second guess himself again, Marcus climbed out of the car, tapping out five stars with one hand and grabbing his overnight bag with the other. He hesitated, just the smallest moment of debate, before he knocked, three sharp raps on the large black door. There was a shout from inside, Dee’s voice alerting someone he would get it, a breath and a curse as the lock was fiddled with, and then they were standing face to face after only 39 hours apart.

Dieter seemed shocked to see him and he didn't bother hiding it, his jaw dropping in time with his arms, the shirt he had been buttoning hanging open to reveal his bare chest. Marcus couldn’t help but steal a glance of tan skin and a soft belly, licking his lips in anticipation. When Dee called his attention back up, the other man was smiling wide.

“This is…”

“A surprise?”

“A great fucking surprise.”

It was almost a blur after that. Fumbling hands and broken laughter as they came together in a messy kiss. They managed to make it up the stairs and down the hall, Dieter’s bed barely breaking their fall.

Marcus wanted to take his time, should have been taking his time, but Dieter’s voice was in his ear, thanking him — thanking him? — for showing up tonight. Thanking him and begging him and pressing salt-slicked lips into the curve of his neck. And before he could breathe the other man in, savor the moment that was coming out of nowhere, they stripped away each and every layer, Dieter panting beneath the hurried press of Marcus’s fingers deep inside.

Sooner rather than later, Marcus was sliding into the other man one final time, their hips flush and their fingers laced. He came with a groan, face buried into the dip of Dieter’s neck, while the actor sunk his teeth into his shoulder, the pleasure burning away into the edges of pain. Only after they both found their breath, bodies pliant and limbs loose, did Marcus find his voice.

“Do you want to order in?”

Dieter didn’t say anything and Marcus craned his neck up to peek past the other man’s chin and catch a glimpse of him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Did you already eat? Because that’s okay.”

“No…,” he started, fingers tracing a line of muscle from the top of his shoulder and back around, lingering along the teeth marks he left there only minutes earlier. “I haven’t eaten. I…there’s this thing I have to….well, not have to. I was getting ready for it when you knocked—“

“Dee?”

“There’s a party,” he finally blurted out, eyes finding the swing of the ceiling fan above, a grimace pulling his lips into a jagged line, a deep shade of pink settling on his cheeks.

Marcus leaned up on his elbow, watching the small battle of wills dragging across Dieter’s face. He thought maybe he should try to comfort the other man but he was suddenly anxious, those creeping realities working their way up his spine.

“A party?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of this farewell thing my friends are throwing,” he explained, not needing to. “Really, just an excuse to get blitzed.”

The lack of eye contact suddenly made much more sense.

“You wanted to go.”

It wasn’t a question.

Dieter was up and over him in a flash, one large hand bending around Marcus’s jaw, thumb pressing the seam of his lips shut. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Marcus pursed his lips, the pad of Dieter’s thumb still pressing firm. He felt the callous from where Dee cheated his paintbrush, a perfect spot to push a kiss before pulling away.

“You want to go.”

Dieter searched his face, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, trying to pull apart the determined set of Marcus’s jaw. When he came up empty-handed, he fell back to his elbows with an exaggerated sigh, one large hand still cupping the cut of the hero’s cheekbone, keeping his thumb close enough to touch.

“I want to go with you.”

———————

Marcus smiled from where he was leaning against the doorway, watching Dieter rummage through his ridiculously sized closet, a string of muttered musings leaving him as he pulled item after item off of hangers. The Heroic had slipped back into his jeans and t-shirt once the decision had been made that they would attend the party together, not really packing (or owning) anything that fit the L.A. scene.

He was two steps towards the bathroom, intent on fixing his messy hair when Dee stopped him with a strong grip on his elbow.

“Leave it,” he teased, a quick kiss pressed to his lips, fingers tugging at one of the sweat-slicked curls.

Now he was standing behind him, sliding a stone-washed jean jacket up one arm and then the other, one more kiss, this time gifted to the back of his neck. The jacket hangs a bit loose around him, Marcus guessing a mix between the cut and style, and Dieter’s broader frame both at play. He couldn’t help himself, tugging the collar to his nose and inhaling deeply, the smell of weed and cologne and something subtle sweet filling his lungs.

He felt Dieter’s eyes, watching him carefully in the reflection of the mirror, his hands finding the dip of his waist beneath the bulky fabric, gripping hard then soft, one, two, three times. Marcus took in the pair of them — sex-mussed hair and bright blush on him, wild eyes, and a teasing smile on Dieter — and he suddenly had no desire to go to this party. Any party.

No.

All he wanted was for Dieter to pull this jacket off the same way he had so easily slipped it on, and drag him back down to the safety of the mattress.

“Come on, sweet boy,” he hummed, the hook of his nose tracing the shell of Marcus’s ear. “Sooner we get there, sooner I get to take you home.”

The word followed Marcus down the stairs and out to the car, his stomach flipping each time he let the meaning of it roll around inside his head.

Home?

———————

Driving in L.A. was an experience in and of itself. Marcus had made his own attempts, managing to find a rhythm in the few times he had been sent out to the west coast on assignment. It wasn’t much different than driving in any other city, as long as you were prepared to sit in what felt like endless hours of traffic. Of course, Marcus had the pleasure of abusing side streets and off-ramps when it came down to emergency situations.

Driving with Dieter behind the wheel was a different experience altogether. He seemed unfettered by speed limits or traffic lights, one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around Marcus’s knee, singing along to the song on the radio but only getting about half the words right. If not for his powers and years of honing his reflexes, Marcus would have maybe suggested he do the driving when he was in town.

As it was, it was nice to settle into the plush leather seat and listen to Dieter’s slightly off-key voice, his hand squeezing Marcus’s knee in time with the beat of the music. He leaned back and closed his eyes, weighing the risk of asking Dieter to just keep driving. Maybe if they kept going, all night and all day, they could avoid the inevitable goodbyes looming in the distance.

———————

The last time Marcus and Dieter had been at a party together, they had only ever heard of each other, recognizing names and faces from newspapers and movie screens. They didn’t know any different than what was said in headlines or plastered on billboards, rumors and hearsay coloring in their opinions of one another. How many assumptions had Marcus made about the actor upon that first meeting? That he was pompous. Self-centered. Selfish. An addict. An asshole. A monster.

Or maybe Marcus was afraid that was how Dieter saw him.

The monster in the night. The shadow that lurked in the corner. Fighting away the evils of the world, the palms of his hands so very dirty with blood and secrets and violence. Living in the between of good and bad and never knowing where he really stood.

But when their eyes met across that darkened alley, only the glow of Dieter’s cigarette casting shadows between them, those half-truths and packaged lies that Marcus took for granted started to fall away. Somewhere between their small secrets and one smokey kiss goodnight, he started to learn who Dieter Bravo really was.

This party was different in so many ways than that first elegant affair. Gone was the light classical music, replaced with something loud, a heavy bass and fast lyrics. Bowls of chips instead of passed trays. Stiff black and white was traded in for soft denim, Dieter’s scent surrounding Marcus from room to room. They entered the party together, no longer separate, no longer strangers, and instead more.

So much more.

Dieter’s arm was wrapped around Marcus’s waist, holding him close by his side as they navigated the packed mansion. The crowd parted around them, little waves of people ebbing and flowing to make room for the two men, boisterous cheers of joy raining down upon them. Dieter preened beneath the attention, his smile wide and his cheeks warm, the hand wrapped around Marcus’s waist squeezing hard to grab the Heroic’s attention.

“They like to make a fuss,” he hummed into Marcus’s ear.

He couldn’t help but cock his own grin back, turning his head just enough to brush his lips along the shell of Dieter’s ear, delighting in the shiver that followed. “I think you like the fuss.”

———————

They get separated about an hour in, an inevitability between the number of people vying for Dieter’s attention and the sheer size of the house. Marcus excused himself to the bathroom, trying and failing not to be annoyed when the first empty one he found was on the opposite end of the party. By the time he made it back to where he left Dieter, the other man had moved, now sitting on a couch, friends and fans alike draped around him.

There was something strange about watching Dieter Bravo in what some would consider his natural habitat. He was bright and shiny and impossible to look away from. He almost looked relaxed, his arms thrown over the back of the sofa and his legs stretched out long, only the tap tap tap of his heel giving him away.

Marcus wanted to insert himself. To crowd himself beside the other man and press his palm to the bend of his knee in hopes of soothing away the small tremor of anxiety, but he hesitated, his own worries holding him in place. So he stayed where he was, back glued to the wall, arms crossed and frown firm, as he tried to decipher the scene playing out in front of him.

Was Dieter’s laugh real just then? Or was the one Marcus had teased out of him hours prior? The sounds seemed so similar, a copy of a copy that looked and felt and sounded real. Were his cheeks pink because he preferred their attention over Marcus’s? Or was it because this room was too damn hot? What did it mean when Dieter touched her knee? Or kissed his cheek? Or leaned a little bit more into their touch?

And why did Marcus care?

He didn’t consider himself a jealous man.

But it almost felt inevitable, the dark tendrils of jealousy seemingly always present, ever since that fateful moment in the alleyway, smoke and secrets traded away for unspoken promises for more. Marcus clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, watching the other man glow beneath the attention of others. Was it merely a reflection back of the attention poured upon him? The mirrors of a disco ball catching in the light and shining for the delight of others? Or was Dieter just enjoying another moment in the limelight?

Marcus couldn’t seem to see the line between real and fake, or what side he stood on.

Someone handed him a drink in the midst of his brooding, and the sting of the alcohol paired well with his bitter mood. He was trapped in a hell of his own making, refusing to look away from the crowd gathered around Dieter, but hating every second of it.

The jealousy burned inside of him. What had just been something dark mingling in the background was now present and in full force. Marcus was jealous. Jealous at how effortlessly Dieter lived his life, able to navigate crowds and fame and fervor without ever breaking a sweat. Jealous at how his smile seemed just as bright as it had when he opened his door hours earlier. Jealous at how someone else held the attention of his sweet brown eyes.

And suddenly there was fear. Icy cold and horrifying reality.

Marcus didn’t belong here. Here with these pretty people and their clean lines and bright lights. He was messy edges and dirty hands, stained with years of violence that would never scrub clean. There was dirt on his ledger and red on his chest, and Dieter was beautiful. So very very beautiful.

Another wave of panic gripped tight at Marcus’s throat.

When was the last time he told Dieter he was beautiful? Yesterday? Or the day before that? Either way, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. And he couldn’t fathom a world where he lost the chance to say it again.

He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t lose him.

The lights above them flickered, an unwelcome side effect of his superpowers, Marcus’s unruly emotions too much to handle all at once. It was just enough to drag everyone’s attention up, stealing their eyes away from Dieter, but only briefly. The actor caught his gaze in the small interim, brows pinched and lips curved, his sharp mind putting the puzzle together. Marcus blushed beneath the scrutiny, feeling very much like a child caught in the midst of a crime. He slammed the cup down on the nearest surface he could find and shoved his dirty hands in the pockets of Dieter’s jacket, and turned away, the lights flickering one last time as he made a quick and embarrassing exit.

From behind he could hear the shout of a stranger.

“Hey, Dee where’s your boyfriend headed?”

Marcus was so focused on the fact that someone else called him ‘Dee’ that he missed the way Dieter's eyes lit up at the word boyfriend.

The bathroom he had found earlier was blissfully empty, and he took care to lock the door behind him. He braced himself against the sink, the cool porcelain a balm to the heat of his palms, breathing in and out, sharp and fast, to match the beat of his heart. A knock came seconds later, Dieter’s voice chasing the sound.

“Let me in, Marcus.”

It didn’t sound like a request.

Marcus unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist, and the actor slipped in, eyes pinning him in place as he locked the door behind him. For a moment both of them refused to speak, 2 feet of space between them, and enough silence to last a lifetime. It was Dieter who finally broke the tension, stepping forward until Marcus was within his reach, the palm of his hand cupping his cheek to keep him close.

“Flattered as I am, I can’t decide if I like jealous on you or not.”

Marcus knew it was foolish to lie at this point. If his fucking superpowers hadn’t given him away, then storming off surely had, and any denial would have rung hollow. Besides, they had promised. Months ago, in an opulent hotel room, cum and sweat sticking them together. They promised to always be honest with each other.

“I don’t belong here, Dee.”

“Shut up.” The sentiment came out as a tease, the tip of Dieter’s thumb tracing the stubble along Marcus’s cheek, but the look on his face was serious.

Marcus shook his head, unsure how to say what had seemed so clear to him only minutes ago. “I’m not…I’m not g–”

“I swear to fucking all, if you say the word ‘good,’ Moreno.”

His mouth clamped shut, and he smiled for the first time since he left Dieter’s side earlier in the night. The other man yanked him in for a quick kiss, only pulling a breath away when he spoke again.

“You are better than all of us, sweet boy. Please tell me you know that?”

Marcus wanted to shake his head in disagreement, the very idea that Dieter saw the good in him too much to bear, but the actor was already kissing him again, lips slanting sweetly along his own. When they broke apart for the second time, Dieter said it again, and then again, each time pairing a kiss with his words. Marcus thought maybe he would have kissed him a hundred times and then a hundred more, praise and adoration passed between them until the inevitable end of time caught up.

But then Dieter crowded in closer, kissing him with much more fervor, his intent clear. Hands scrambled as belts were tugged free and pants were pulled down, bodies twisting until Marcus was plastered to Dieter’s back. He slipped inside the broader man easily, still slick with his release from earlier. Dieter whined at the stretch, pressing back into Marcus, fingers curling around the edge of the bathroom counter as he began to beg.

“Hard, baby. Please.”

Marcus nipped at Dieter’s ear, refusing to move, the entire length of him buried to the hilt inside him. “How hard?”

“Hard,” Dieter begged again, squirming in Marcus’s tight grip. “Hard as you can. Need to feel you. F-feel so good.”

It was an intoxicating rush, reducing Dieter Bravo to stumbling pleas and wanton moans, and Marcus swore as long as he was able to pull air into his lungs he refused to take that feeling for granted. He pressed a soft kiss to Dieter’s skin and gently nudged his nose to the back of his head, coaxing his gaze up to meet Marcus’s in the mirror.

He dragged his hand up Dieter’s chest, stopping to feel the steady thump of his heart, one, two, three beats, before moving up to wrap his fingers around the other man’s throat. He whined again, writhing to and fro, the sound more pitiful with each passing second that Marcus refused to move.

“I’ve got you, mi cielo. I’ve got you,” he hummed the promise, pressing another kiss to Dieter’s sweat-damp curls. He squeezed the actor’s throat again, watching as his cock seemed to pulse in time with the action. He bit back his own groan, his own cock painfully hard where he was buried inside the other man.

“M-marcus…please…”

When he finally moved, it was slow, almost torturous for the both of them, but Marcus refused to be rushed. Not this time. Fuck any and everyone who dared to knock on that door. That dared to interrupt them. That dared to break between this moment. He pulled the other man closer, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other still gripping tight to his throat. Dieter’s hands were still scrambling, designer soaps and over-priced products falling to the floor as he seeked some sort of leverage. He finally found it, stonewashed denim bunching between his fingers as he dug them into Marcus’s forearms.

And only then did Marcus give into his request, snapping his hips as hard as he could, teeth sinking into the curve of Dieter’s neck. There would be bruises, bad ones, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too overwhelmed at the thought of marking the other man as his own. Dieter didn’t seem to mind either, begging Marcus again and again to give him everything he had.

“Want to feel it,” he sobbed, the pleasure just on the other side of pain. “Want to feel you when I’m gone. Please.”

“You will, baby. I promise,” Marcus growled. “You’ll feel me for days. You won’t forget me. P-please… don’t forget me.”

The admission fell out of Marcus before he could stop it, along with his own broken sobs to match. The pain and tears burst to life, the broken pieces he had hidden all over his body finding new life as he begged Dieter to take it all with him. Each slam of his hips and bruising touch of his hands. Every bite from his teeth and kiss from his lips. The words and the promises and the things neither of them knew how to say but felt all the same.

“Take me with you, Dee. Please, take me with you.”

“I will, sweet boy,” he gasped, his body shaking beneath Marcus’s anguished hands. “Sweet boy. Good boy. I promise.”

Dieter came first, though Marcus wasn’t sure how, his sobs and sighs of pleasure long past any sort of coherence. His cock twitched and pulsed, coming completely untouched. Marcus watched Dieter’s face break apart in the reflection of the mirror, his brown eyes wild and skin flushed, lips parting around a feral scream.

Marcus fell apart in kind, sparks of heat bursting at the base of his spine as tight velvet squeezed around him, Dieter’s voice in his ear, his jacket sticking to his skin. He spilled inside the other man, tears and spit and snot pressed into Dieter’s neck, little words of praise coaxing him through the brunt of it. Eventually, the tears turned to laughter, the two of them clinging tighter as they made guesses at how many people heard them.

“Either way, I hope they enjoyed the show because I sure did,” Dieter teased, nipping his teeth on the hinge of Marcus’s jaw.

They did a piss poor job of cleaning up, Dee’s cum barely wiped clean from the porcelain with a towel found below the counter, too high a thread count for something so filthy but neither man really gave two shits to look for an alternative. The products were tossed haphazardly into the sink, the idea of stacking them neatly ridiculous. They both agreed; you get what you ask for when you throw a party in the valley.

Marcus took better care when it came time to clean Dieter up. He warmed up the water from the sink as best he could, using that same fancy towel from before to wipe up the trickle of cum slipping slowly down his backside. He couldn’t stop from stealing one small indulgence, using his thumb to press some of himself back inside the other man, Dieter’s legs visibly shaking from the sudden stimulation. Marcus shushed him with a soft kiss to one of the many bite marks littered across his neck, humming out a quiet apology.

“Do they hurt?”

“They do,” Dieter grinned, tilting his chin to admire the marks as he tugged his jeans up over the swell of his ass. “I’m gonna need a few more before I get on that plane tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmm, definitely.”

Dieter pressed something hard into Marcus’s hand and when he looked down he could see it was his car keys, the silver teeth catching in the light.

“Take me home, sweet boy. I have plans for you.”

There was that word again, breathed out so easily, like a promise he knew he would keep.

Home.

#fic rec #marcus moreno x dieter bravo

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kutemouse · 5 years ago

Text

First Time with Taehyung

Disclaimer: The above gif was made and/or edited by me, kutemouse. That is why I’ve posted this under the tag #btsgif. It’s from one of Taehyung’s live streams. Feel free to use it however you want, just give me credit for the edit. Thanks 💜

Age Recommendation: 18+ (Please follow this, I’m begging you 🥺)

Warnings: Smut C; swears, fluffy relationship-y stuff, Taehyung being a total sweetheart, oral (f receiving), red lingerie, nicknames, slightly dom Tae.

Word Count: 2,185

Summary: It’s your one-month anniversary with your boyfriend Taehyung, and he has a spicy end-of-the-night surprise for you.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

I pulled out my phone and dialed my boyfriend’s number. My boyfriend. I would never get used to the euphoric feeling that exploded in my gut every time I thought that.

“Where are you?” his voice said.

“Thirty seconds away, I swear. I took too long to get ready.”

He chuckled. “Jagiya, you didn’t need to doll up just for me. You always look beautiful.”

Warmth spread all the way down to my fingertips at his words despite the chilly weather. “Well you always look handsome,” I retorted, spotting the top of his head above the crowd. “But it looks like you dressed up, too.”

And indeed he had. Taehyung looked absolutely scrumptious in a long dark coat, dark jeans, black Doc Martens, and a plaid beige over-sized scarf he had wrapped around his face. His breath was creating condensation on the round glasses he’d decided to sport today. So cute.

I tackled him from behind in a hug, and he laughed, hugging me eagerly back. “Finally!” he teased. He held me back at arm’s length, then reached inside his coat and pulled out a red rose.

My mouth parted in surprise at the unexpected gift. “For you,” Tae said, smiling. I blushed and took it, bringing it to my nose and inhaling its scent.

We ducked our heads against the wind and went inside the restaurant where we were immediately seated at our reserved table. The restaurant was amazing, with sparkling crystal glasses, white tablecloths, and a gorgeous chandelier setting a romantic mood. We shrugged off our coats, and I took a moment to appreciate the beige sweater he wore which showed off his body in all the right places. I caught him looking at me just as appreciatively and blushed. I still couldn’t believe he was my boyfriend. We’d done nothing but go on dates and hang out with each other outside of work and school for the past month, and Taehyung told me just how much he cared about me every single day, yet I still felt like this relationship was too good to be true. Soyeon was right. I really had to stop self-sabotaging.

He pulled out my chair for me and gestured. I shyly sat down, scooting the chair inwards with his help, then he sat down across from me. “Don’t worry about the cost,” Tae said. “Order whatever you want.”

I glanced at the menu, suddenly uneasy at how pricey everything was. I knew Taehyung wasn’t hurting for money. He told me his older brother owned a large business, and between that and Tae successfully selling a lot of his photos, I knew he was pretty well off. Apparently my boyfriend didn’t have any other family outside of his brother. I asked him once where his parents were and he simply shrugged and said, “Dead.”

I didn’t press him for details, but instead chose to share something personal about me so he wouldn’t feel so pressured. “My parents aren’t around either,” I murmured. “My dad passed away when I was little, and my mom is in a psych ward right now.”

He looked up at me suddenly, chocolate-brown eyes boring into mine. “I’m so sorry.”

That was the moment I knew I was falling hard for him. Taehyung didn’t ask why she was in a psych ward or look at me with raised eyebrows. He simply empathized. That’s what I needed. Someone who would see all the dark parts of me and not see a monster, but the human I was.

Taehyung ordered a bottle of wine for us, and we clinked glasses before taking a sip. “To us,” he said. “And our first month together. May there be many more.”

I bit my lip, biting back a huge smile. How the hell was he mine?

Dinner was absolutely amazing. He never took his eyes off me, and at one point I was laughing so hard, people were starting to look at us. Finally, we finished eating and the waiter cleared our plates away. “Any dessert for the lovely couple?” the guy asked, taking out his notepad.

“Not tonight,” Taehyung said before I could get a word in. “Just the check, please.”

The waiter bowed, and I looked at Tae in disbelief. “You know, that dessert menu was calling my name,” I teased before pouting. “And besides, aren’t we celebrating?”

My boyfriend leaned over the table, a glint in his brown eyes I’d never seen before. It spelled trouble. “Oh you’ll get dessert tonight, kitten, don’t you worry about that,” he said, a mischievous smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. “It’s waiting for you at my apartment.”

My mouth dropped open. Kitten? Was tonight the night? I kind of hoped it would be. Our makeout sessions were getting hotter and heavier, and my sexual frustration was like an ocean built up behind a weakening dam, ready to burst at any given moment.

These days, every time I spent time with Taehyung, I’d made sure to keep myself well-groomed and secretly wear matching sets of underwear just in case. I hoped he’d like the red lacey ensemble I’d chosen for tonight.

We paid the bill and left in a hurry, his large hand keeping mine warm as we trudged through the streets. His hand snaked from my hand to around my waist, tugging me close. He tilted his head down towards mine, and we kissed, our cold lips warming as we sighed into each others’ mouths.

A block later, he couldn’t hold back anymore, leading us down an alley where he crashed his rosy lips against mine, feverishly shoving his tongue into my cavern and tasting me. I held him close, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist and he groaned, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. I felt moisture gathering in my panties, the way he was making me feel turning me on even more. After a time, Taehyung released me, his lips swollen and red, his pupils blown beautifully wide. “My place is only two blocks away,” he panted. “Let’s run.”

We jogged, giggling like a pair of kids, all the way to his apartment, and he hurriedly punched in the pin that would let us into the building and dragged me inside. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me once more, one hand tightly wrapped around my waist, the other tugging on the back of my neck so we could be as close as possible.

“Taehyung,” I murmured as he peppered kisses down my neck. “We’re still in the hallway. Let’s go inside.”

He didn’t stop, sucking gently on the skin of my neck. I suddenly got flashbacks to my feedings with Jimin and pushed Taehyung back roughly.

There were no fangs, no red eyes. Just him. Just my sweet, warm Tae. “You okay?” he asked. I slowly nodded.

“Hnnggnh,” he groaned, pressing the lower half of his face into my shoulder. “I need you, kitten. I need you now.”

I had no idea where this ‘kitten’ nickname came from, but I was living for it. “You can have all of me,” I breathed into his ear. “Just not in public.”

He pressed his forehead against mine, eyes locking mine in. “Deal.”

We stumbled towards his apartment and he fumbled with his keys, swearing at how long it took to get them in the lock and open the door. We practically fell inside, wrapped in each other's arms. Taehyung slammed the door behind us and we collapsed on the couch, lips intertwined, hands roaming everywhere. He helped me take off my coat then let his hands cheekily slide up my thighs underneath my dress, pulling it up until my panties were exposed and his large hands rested on either side of my bare hips.

He hummed in appreciation of my lingerie, his gaze roaming down my heaving tummy towards my core. He sat me up and knelt on the floor in front of me, raising the dress above my head until he slid it off my arms and tossed it aside. He also slid off each of my stockings, unpinning them from the garters attaching them to my bottoms.

“You know,” he said, his deep voice sultry and low. “I really loved that dress on you. It showed off your body in all the right places, but this…” He nodded in approval. “This is much better.”

I giggled, but stopped the second he leaned in, blowing lightly against my clothed core. “Here’s dessert, jagiya. Hope you like it.”

He mouthed at my pussy then, making the wetness drip down as I moaned out his name. “Just like that, kitten,” he murmured, stopping for only a second. “Moan my name. Cry it out. Scream it out.”

Taehyung licked a long strip up my core, making me shiver, before hooking two fingers underneath my panties and yanking them down. Making eye contact with me, he slowly slid them down my legs and over my ankles, taking his time.

I whimpered. “Taehyung, stop teasing.”

“Hush, kitten. You’ll get what you want.”

He leaned in once more and started eating me out with vigor. I gasped in surprise, my juices coating his face as the sight of his long tongue pushing inside of me turned me on even more. After a bit, he stopped tongue-fucking me and pushed his middle finger inside, wrapping his lips around my clit.

“Taehyung, nnnggh, fuck!” I cried out, my hips bucking, my hands kneading my breasts which were still encased by my bra.

He grunted and merely pumped his finger faster, soon after adding a second one. I was in heaven. It wouldn’t be long before all that sexual frustration found relief. My moans got louder and higher in pitch until my orgasm crashed into me, waves of pleasure rippling through every inch of my body, my thighs shaking uncontrollably.

My boyfriend worked me through it, not stopping until I whimpered from overstimulation. He slowly pulled his fingers out and I clenched around nothing, gasping for air. “I’ll give you a couple minutes jagiya,” he said, smirking and lifting his sweater over his head to finally reveal his toned torso. “But after that, I’m going to fuck you into next week.”

A shiver went through me at his words. I got up, legs still shaky, and accepted a glass of water Taehyung poured out for me. Gulping it down, I reached around my sweaty body and unhooked my bra, sliding the straps down my arms, slowly letting it fall down my chest. Taehyung groaned at the sight of my naked form, reaching to undo his pants.

I grabbed his hands, stopping him, and undid his belt buckle for him, slowly lowering the zipper.

“Kitten,” he moaned, his eyes dark and hooded. “Quit teasing.”

I smirked. “Karma’s a bitch, isn’t she?”

Taehyung growled then swooped me up and carried me to the bedroom, tossing me on his bed. He ripped off his trousers and boxer-briefs then crawled over me, pressing his full, hard length into my core and rubbing it between my legs. I gasped, my hands scrambling all over his back, pulling him close. “Ready?” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear.

I wanted to say yes, but common sense stopped me. “Wait… condom?”

“Oh, right!” Taehyung stood up and opened his bedside drawer, pulling out a wrapper and tearing it open with his teeth. He rolled the condom on, and I took a moment to appreciate just how thick he was. He looked like he could fill me up for days.

Once again, my boyfriend crawled on top of me and started teasing me once more. I reached down to push him inside, but he playfully smacked my hand away. “Relax,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pushed his full length inside, going slowly so I could adjust to the stretch. Once he bottomed out, he kissed me hard, tongue swirling around mine. He slowly started to rock his hips, and I tore my mouth from his, gasping out. It wasn’t long before he was sliding his cock all the way out and quickly slamming it back in, the speed causing both of us to pant.

“Oh god, there, right there,” I gasped as he hit that sensitive bundle of nerves.

Taehyung grunted. “So… fucking… tight,” he said, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust. “Gonna… cum… soon.”

“Me too,” I whimpered, feeling my muscles start to spasm.

My second orgasm crashed into me like a tidal wave, the force of it so strong I couldn’t help but dig my nails into his back, crying out his name. “Taehyung! Taehyung! Oh god, Taehyung!”

“That’s it, kitten, scream my name,” Taehyung huffed, going faster and faster until he too grunted, pushing deep into me, his cock twitching with the force of his orgasm.

He pulled out of me and kissed me deeply. “Happy anniversary, jagiya,” he panted before rolling over and cuddling me to his wide chest.

I sighed happily, still a bit out of breath. “Wow. Happy anniversary indeed.”

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

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