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theharrowing · 6 months ago

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Carnival of Terror 🎪 4: I make them dance

The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

🎪 Jungkook x Female Reader, Jungkook x Yoongi

🎪 word count: 11.7k

🎪 choose your own adventure, friends & strangers to lovers, carnival and circus au, dead dove, horror, possible minor & major character injury & death, supernatural elements & magic realism, nsfw, 21+

🎪 warnings: use of recreational drugs (mdma - time it takes to kick in is sped up for the narrative; feeling unsettled and paranoid; overwhelm); some of you might find Jungkook's behavior to be akin to infidelity, but in the context of their relationship, it's not; explicit smut (vaginal fingering & sex against a wall; multiple orgasms; not quite a blow job; cum swallowing) teasing & use of the word "whore"; being fed water from someone else's mouth; marionette horror; mirror horror; bloody slice across a face.

🎪 note: at best, everyone is a little toxic. at worst, they're a monster in human flesh with dark secrets, that can only exist in this magical realist world. likely, they are something in between. also, if you're in my time zone and see me posting at 2 in the morning, no you don't lmao.

🍧 food note: idk if everyone grew up eating "snow cones" but they're literally just balls of ice and flavored syrup. bingsu and shaved ice are kind of similar, but the ingredients and presentation can differ.

🎪 if you need a little refresher on what happened in the last chapter, i made a handy dandy recap post.

🎪 beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🎪 posted june. 2024 | read on ao3

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WELCOME BACK TO THE GREATEST SHOW IN THE WORLD!

We left off making questionable choices with Jeongguk. Just how many of our intrepid characters can get lost at once?

POLLS THAT SWAYED EVENTS IN THIS CHAPTER:

ducky & rabbit 1 | ducky & rabbit 2

The little pale crystals taste bitter on your tongue, and you wince in disgust as you reach for the open water bottle that Jeongguk holds in his fingertips, arm outstretched. He eyes you curiously, more openly than you have grown accustomed to, and it excites you.

"Have you rolled before?" he asks, leaning close as you swallow down two large gulps of ice-cold water.

"No," you admit with a shiver.

Not that you know of, anyway. After what you have seen and felt in Seokjin's hypnotic trances, you are beginning to wonder whether perhaps your memories are not the extent of your experiences. Of course, there is a possibility that Seokjin has somehow planted those memories of you in bed with him and Namjoon, but that is a matter for later. For now, you have other matters to attend to.

"You'll like it," Jeongguk insists, stepping close.

The two of you stand under the shade of the Hall of Mirrors building. With your back inches from the wall, you are unable to hold any space between your bodies.

Your breath feels heavy as you ask, "How do you know?'

Jeongguk smirks. "You like it when your mind is a little fucky, don't you? I mean…you let Yoongi hyung dig his claws into you for long enough."

"What's your excuse?" you ask, equal parts curious and defensive.

"I love the game," Jeongguk shrugs, easy enough. "Sure, sometimes he breaks my heart, but he always comes crawling back. And in the meantime, I have plenty of distractions."

"Distractions?" you ask.

Jeongguk is far too close, and his lightly floral musk is cloyingly sweet. You find yourself swaying toward and away, toward and away.

"Drugs," Jeongguk says with another shrug. His gaze is pointed as he adds, "And sex."

It feels like whiplash the way Jeongguk so easily shifts into a completely different person. If you didn't know any better, you would think he and Yoongi were in on something together, and that Yoongi is just off in the periphery somewhere, enjoying the show.

"How long does it take to kick in?" you ask, ignoring Jeongguk's dark, smoldering eyes and attempting to gaze out at the carnival grounds past him.

The sun should be going down by now, but it continues to hang high and bright. All around you, music blares, and voices shout. It no longer overwhelms the senses; rather, it feels commonplace.

"Could take an hour. Could take fifteen minutes. With this cut, it's hard to tell."

That is not reassuring.

"Why is it so inconsistent?"

Jeongguk shrugs. "This cut is strange."

You sigh and accept your fate; what more could you do at this point? Jeongguk seems amused, chuckling a light, twinkling sound – pitchy and melodic. He almost looks childlike with the striped scarf hanging around his neck, tied neatly in the front.

"Want to walk around and wait to come up, or go inside and get lost?"

Get lost feels like the wrong way to describe precisely what you want, but perhaps it is somewhat accurate.

You take Jeongguk by the hand and go to the left, toward the back door to the Hall of Mirrors – the door that is closest. From the outside, there is no handle, but you instinctively reach for the edge of the door and run your fingers along where there is a small groove in the black-painted wood, allowing you to hook a finger in and open the door.

"Whoa," Jeongguk mutters, and you think the same, surprising even yourself.

The room that the door opens up to is dark, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. You pull Jeongguk to the right, whereas the hallway leading into the attraction is on the left, and you find a thick black curtain that you pull out of the way, then discover a small black door. You knock lightly, wait for several seconds, and then yank it open, gaining entrance into an empty space that is clearly not meant for the general public.

"How do you know about this place?" Jeongguk asks.

"I don't know," you admit. Your body is simply running on autopilot.

The room the two of you find yourself in is rather small and dimly lit, with black walls and nothing to sit upon. There is a small metal hook that locks the door, and you slide it into place. Music plays overhead – the same dizzying organ tunes you have grown accustomed to hearing in this place – and the air feels unusually heavy.

"I'm surprised you agreed to this," Jeongguk purrs as he crowds your space.

Instinctively, you step back, knocking your foot against a wooden wall. You stare at Jeongguk as he towers close, keeping your hands to your sides as you try your best to steady your breath.

"I am too," you admit.

"Yoongi hyung not enough for you?" Jeongguk teases as he leans close enough to press his body into yours. Warmth radiates, and you melt a little into the wall, allowing yourself to relax.

Holding firm, steady eye contact, you reach up to rub your palms over Jeongguk's chest, dancing your fingertips over taut muscle concealed under the light, soft, greenish-blue fabric of his shirt. With your left hand, you finger the scarf, giving it gentle tugs.

"Yoongi is more than enough for me," you say, tilting your head playfully. "But he's not here, is he?"

Jeongguk grabs your waist and spins you around. You barely have time to steady your hands against the wall to prevent your cheek from smashing into wood. He presses into you, yanking your hips back until his crotch rubs against your ass, and you sigh a shattered breath as your eyes flutter closed.

"More than enough, hmm?" Jeongguk groans in your ear, voice just above a feral growl. "If that were true, then why are you so eager to let me have you?"

You shrug and whine, "I'm bored."

"Bored," Jeongguk snarls, reaching around to undo your slacks.

His fingers are quick, and he shoves the material down, then reaches a greedy hand between your legs to rub over your clothed pussy. The material is cold to the touch and still slightly wet, and he tsks in your ear.

"This all for me, or this from earlier?"

"From earlier," you admit.

"When?" Jeongguk asks in a sharp, angry tone.

You grin. "Tunnel of Love."

Jeongguk chuckles, but the sound is deep and swimming with fury. If you didn't know any better, you might think he is planning on ripping you apart.

"I knew it," he all but growls.

Your body simmers with excitement and something else – something that might feel like panic if not for Jeongguk's long fingers roughly stroking over your soiled undergarment. You sigh and press your ass back, feeling the way his erection tents in his pants, tempted to offer to get on your knees and beg for it.

"He told me all about you, you know," Jeongguk says sweetly, voice far more tame and welcoming. "I know everything."

You hum a curious sound and ask, "Like what?"

"Like how tight you are," Jeongguk says as he pulls your panties aside and lets one finger explore your folds before it dips deep inside. "Fuck," he sighs, breath hot against your neck. "So fucking wet."

"That's all for you," you whine as Jeongguk pulls his finger out and slowly presses it in deep.

"Yeah?" he asks. "You sure about that? Or is it just me talking about Yoongi hyung that turns you on?"

With a sigh and a light giggle, you say, "Maybe it's a little of both."

"Yeah?" Jeongguk asks, pulling his finger out in a broad stroke that rubs across your clit, making you tremble with pleasure. "You like being hyung's little whore?"

You wonder if Jeongguk is attempting to hurt your feelings despite circling his finger over your bud in firm strokes. All you feel is amusement.

You attempt to look over your shoulder as you ask, "Are you?"

Jeongguk dips his hand down and slides two fingers in, this time making you hiss. The stretch is not enough to really fill you the way you like, but it feels good. It feels promising.

From behind, you can hear Jeongguk's other hand at work on his button and zipper. Fabric rustles, his hand pulls away, leaving you empty, and then you feel his cock pressed against your ass.

"I saw you first," he groans, knuckles brushing over your skin as he strokes himself. "I was the one who pointed you out to hyung. I wanted you first."

He takes you by the hips in both hands and pulls back, forcing your back to arch. You feel trapped in your slacks, unable to spread your legs, but Jeongguk does not seem to mind. He bends and slides his cock against your semi-clothed cunt, causing the two of you to whine in tandem.

"But Yoongi hyung always gets what he wants," Jeongguk says as he lines his cock up with your hole and thrusts, rubbing his length over your folds and clit.

A shiver runs along your spine, and you sigh, enjoying the slide even without penetration. Then Jeongguk lines up again and presses slower, steadier, spearing you open.

Arousal floods quickly, making you moan as pleasure quakes through you. You know that you should be quiet, but it is hard to hold back, and you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to clamp your mouth shut and muffle your sounds.

Jeongguk is thick, and he moves maddeningly slow, making you feel every little vein and curve he has to offer. Everything is heightened with how sore you are from earlier.

"What was it about me?" you whimper, attempting to keep your voice low and steady.

Jeongguk pulls back and thrusts forward, coating himself in you, making the slide much smoother. Then he buries his nose in your neck as he straightens you from the half-bent position you had found yourself in.

Your back stays somewhat arched, but you attempt to stand tall and allow Jeongguk's hands to grip your hip and chest, holding you in place. You anchor your palms against the rough wood wall, feeling its tiny grooves filled with paint.

"Everything," he groans as he pulls back and thrusts quickly forward, making you moan in dizzying pleasure.

The hand on your chest slides up and firmly plants over your mouth. You sigh into the feeling, breathing in the faintly sweet scent of his skin as he sets a steady pace and fucks you.

"Your smile," Jeongguk grunts, hips slapping against your ass in a punctuated rhythm. "Your laugh. You were so—" Jeongguk's hand slides from your hip, reaches forward, and pinches your clit, "—intoxicating," he growls as you moan desperately into his palm, feeling pleasure burst inside you.

Jeongguk fucks you hard and fast, groaning against your neck while your hot breath creates a pocket of condensation coating his calluses, his life lines, and his heart lines. Surely, you could be heard by anyone who may approach the little black door hidden behind the velvet curtain, but you cannot bring yourself to care.

You feel euphoric. You feel lost.

"Cum for me, baby," Jeongguk commands, fingers pinching and rubbing your clit in rough but pleasant motions.

Ignoring the way your chest flutters at the sound of Jeongguk calling you baby, you nod and close your eyes, relaxing as best as you can, eager for release. Fireworks of light and pleasure seem to explode within you, and as you climb higher and higher toward bliss, you feel awash with warm, overbearing ecstasy.

Desperately, you moan into Jeongguk's palm. You attempt to beg him to make you cum, muttering a muffled prayer of, "Please, please, please."

Jeongguk angles his hips, pressing himself impossibly deeper, causing your eyes to roll back. Orgasm explodes and you squeal and shake, worried the pleasure might knock you down to the floor.

But Jeongguk holds you firmly and keeps you steady. Your blunt fingernails dig into the wooden wall, and you quake as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, threatening to drown you in its undertow.

"So fucking good," Jeongguk groans against your neck. "You feel so fucking good cuming on my cock."

You are unsure whether it is the drugs or simply Jeongguk, but as soon as you feel as if you are able to relax and come down from your high, another explodes inside you, causing your legs to go weak as you tremble and squeal.

"Holy fuck," Jeongguk growls. "That's it, baby. Keep squeezing me."

You attempt to moan Jeongguk's name, but your voice is too muffled. The sound of your release squelching with each thrust fills you with shame and excitement, and you wonder whether you have ever cum so hard before. You want to tell Jeongguk as much – want to praise him for how incredibly he fucks you – but all you can do is moan and sob against his damp palm, and take what he has to give you.

"Gonna cum," Jeongguk warns. Then he slides his hand away and asks, "Will you swallow it?"

Without thinking twice, you nod, voice broken and weak as you moan through the last of Jeongguk's firm, deep strokes.

He pulls out, and you turn, dropping to your knees haphazardly, which are stuck together in your bunched slacks. Your knees sting as they kiss wood, but all you can focus on is Jeongguk's pretty, uncut cock glistening above your face as his fist slowly strokes up the shaft.

"Open," he commands, leaning with one hand against the wall and towering over you.

You open wide and do your best to sit high, but a steady tremble works through your entire body, causing you to feel dizzy and disoriented. Jeongguk takes your chin in his hand and slides his cock along your outstretched tongue, and as soon as you close your lips around the tip and suck, tasting your own heady flavor, he pulsates against your lips and cums.

Jeongguk moans, fingers digging into your jaw, and you do your best to breathe through the gentle thrust of him along your tongue, spurting into your throat. When he sighs heavily and pulls back, you look up, heavy-blinking and holding your mouth open wide.

The sight above you is heavenly. Jeongguk pants and stares, covered in a sheen of sweat that sticks his shirt to his firm, muscular chest and arms. His face is rosy-blushed, and his dark eyes are wide.

"Fuck," he mutters, leaving his cock to hang heavy and deflate while he moves his hand to your mouth and presses the pads of two fingers against the mess on your tongue.

Something is clearly on his mind, and you stare up in waiting. Then he pulls his fingers out, and nods, cracking a smile.

"Hyung mentioned you were a fucking dirty girl. I bet I could spit in your mouth and you wouldn't mind."

You roll your eyes and retract your tongue, smiling at Jeongguk's audacity. You absolutely would not mind, but he doesn't need to know that. Not when he seems to feel so superior over you.

Jeongguk tucks himself back into his slacks and then helps you stand. Your legs feel like overcooked noodles, and you stumble back against the wall as you reach to pull your pants up with trembling hands.

Around you, the sound of the music swells and sways, and you would attribute the disorienting nature to the drugs, but this is how it sounded when Namjoon held your hand and pulled you through these halls earlier. You wonder if, perhaps, Namjoon is nearby.

"Feel the effects?" Jeongguk asks, grabbing the bottle of water from where it seems to have been tossed to the floor.

You stretch your arms over your head, feeling how simultaneously heavy and light they are. "I think so," you mutter.

Jeongguk takes a drink of water, then steps forward crowding your space. You open your mouth to ask what he is doing as your head bumps against the wall, but Jeongguk simply opens his mouth and dribbles ice-cold water from his lips to yours.

Most of the water makes it to your mouth, but some drools out to the side, and as the two of you swallow, Jeongguk kisses you, licking deep and causing you to melt into the wall once more.

You lift your hands to rub against his chest, palms grazing over clothed pierced nipples, making Jeongguk hiss. He licks firmly over your tongue, then pulls a moan from your throat as he sucks on its tip.

"You taste good," Jeongguk mutters against your lips, urging you on.

You slide one hand up to scarf around Jeongguk's neck and pull him close, licking fervently into his mouth, tasting and teasing; taking as you please. Jeongguk presses his hips against you, and you chuckle, breaking the kiss.

"We should get some fresh air," you mutter, feeling warm and increasingly claustrophobic.

"Alright," Jeongguk mutters, sucking your lower lip between his teeth. You whine until he releases, and sigh as he says, "Let's go."

Jeongguk takes your hand in his, and you can feel residual cold on his palm from when it held onto the water bottle moments ago. It feels nice and grounding as you attempt to get your feet to cooperate and assist you with leaving this place.

Only, when you exit this small room and walk toward the door that should lead back outside, all you find in its place is a wall. Jeongguk presses and rubs against the black wood, and he sighs when he finds nothing. High on the wall is a blinking red Dead End sign, and you wonder whether there is a proper back exit, or if this attraction is only meant to have one way in and one way out.

"I want to freak out about this, but I feel too high to care," he grumbles, making you laugh.

You would also like to freak out about this and all the other oddities that you have experienced. But you know that it will do nobody any good, and so you sigh and yank Jeongguk toward the hallway that leads into the attraction.

"Only way out is through, I guess," you sigh.

Jeongguk falls into step beside you, and as you enter the first hall full of glass and reflected light, dizziness overtakes you. The two of you stumble and giggle, stopping to gawk at your warped reflections, warping them further as you bend and twist.

You are a little surprised that Jeongguk continues to hold your hand, firmly keeping you close, leading at times, and following at others. It feels nice. Warm and steady. Secure. You nearly forget all about Yoongi.

But then a flash of blue and black moves in the distance ahead, and although you do not clearly see it, you feel it. It has to be Yoongi.

Jeongguk is giggling as his reflection when you grip tightly to his fingers and pull, causing him to stumble to your side, muttering something under his breath.

"This way," you insist, staring ahead for any sign of the blur that you could swear is Yoongi.

You turn your gaze every which way, looking into rooms and staring as far as you can along paths, but all you find are strangers. Amused couples, bored third-wheels, and giggling shapes pressed closely in dark corners.

"What is it?" Jeongguk asks, slowing and creating resistance.

"I need fresh air," you sigh as your chest tightens and the air feels constricted. "I just…I need to get out of here."

Time seems even more warped as the drug shimmers through your system, and you search and search, though for what, you slowly forget. All you know is that there is a deep, pounding need in your chest, but as you turn corners and examine rooms, you question whether that need could ever truly be filled.

Far ahead, down the long hallway and past several doorways, you spot a bright shining light appearing and disappearing. Sunlight.

You yank on Jeongguk, who follows along obediently, holding onto your palm as it increasingly begins to sweat, slickening your hold. He allows you to pass through doorways first and slides easily behind you to allow others to pass.

When you reach the exit, he steps ahead first and presses the heavy wooden door open, holding it for you. All at once, the air is hot and dry, and as you take in a deep inhale, you are unsure whether you feel better or worse, squinting against the bright sun.

Jeongguk hands you the bottle of water, and you finally release his hand, lamenting the familiar warmth as your trembling fingers struggle to twist the tiny plastic cap free. You stumble into some shade beside the entrance of the building, and Jeongguk follows.

He crowds your space and takes the plastic bottle cap, sliding it into his pocket for safekeeping. As you lift the bottle to your lips, you quake and sigh, shivering despite overheating.

"The come up is sometimes just as rough as the comedown," Jeongguk mutters sweetly. "You probably didn't feel it as badly inside because you were distracted. It'll pass soon."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you ask, voice weak and pathetic against the small round rim of the bottle. You take a large cold gulp and refrain from finishing off the water despite feeling thirsty enough to want to drown.

"What are you talking about?" Jeongguk asks, laughing.

As you sigh through the cold gulp, you hand over the bottle, watching as Jeongguk drinks from it with steady hands, much better equipped to handle the drug than you.

"You called me a whore," you pout, suddenly feeling upset despite not caring before.

Jeongguk finishes the water and crushes the bottle in his hand, crinkling the plastic as he steps forward to crowd your space. A crazed grin tugs at his lips, and with a lift of his brow, he mutters, "I was only joking," sending a chill down your spine.

"Are you sure?" you ask, doing your best to appear unaffected but feeling jittery.

Jeongguk's look fades and he begins laughing. "You're too much," he mutters, shaking his head.

Affronted, you attempt to swat him on the chest, but Jeongguk grabs your hand and holds it close.

"Why are you so annoying?" you grumble, attempting uselessly to yank your hand away.

"You like it," he responds, grinning as he lets go, causing you to stumble back into the wall from your semi-frantic movement.

The world feels off. Glimmering and electric. Overbearing yet underwhelming.

"What time is it?" you ask, making no move to reach for the phone in your pocket.

Jeongguk sighs. "I suppose we should find the others. How long were we fucking?"

His candor makes you shy, and you feel the way heat burns up your neck, to your cheeks. You would attempt to smack him again, but you know it is pointless.

You look around, wondering whether your friends are still at the game booths where they said they would be. "Where did you tell them we were going?"

"I told them the truth," Jeongguk shrugs.

Anxiety rises. "The truth, as in…"

Jeongguk smirks. "They already know about what hyung and I do. No need to act like such a prude about it."

Petulance rises, and you actually lift your hand with the urge to smack, but Jeongguk watches the movement and lifts his eyebrows. He is far too quick, and for your own sanity, you need to minimize the amount of time he spends touching you from this point forward.

"I'm not a prude!" you grit through your teeth, eager to get your point across without being too loud.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. "Look, Tae hyungie originally pointed you out to me. Nobody is going to be shocked by this development."

"Wait…" you grumble, mulling it over. "What?"

Jeongguk shrugs. "He said you would be my type, which of course made Yoongi hyung pounce first. I doubt that he or Jimin hyung would be alarmed or upset if they knew we ended up together, as intended."

You frown, running Jeongguk's words through your mind. The night you met Yoongi, you were with a friend at a house party. That friend introduced you to Yoongi, who later introduced you to Jeongguk. It would be another week before you were introduced to Taehyung and Jimin. What does he mean Taehyung pointed you out?

"Taehyung?" you ask, cocking your head to the side.

Jeongguk shrugs again. "I don't know," he concedes, seemingly disinterested in dwelling on the details. "He said you were my type, but I'm sure he just meant visually. It's not like you two knew each other."

You softly ask, "What is your type?" and then berate yourself silently, wishing you could just let what transpired in the Hall of Mirrors stay there.

Regret sinks its claws in as Jeongguk licks over his lips and says, "Pretty. Bratty. Tight."

You roll your eyes and shake your head, scoffing in disbelief. Despite knowing you should bite your tongue, you tilt your chin up as a challenge and ask, "Well? Did I live up to the expectations?"

Jeongguk cracks a smile and says, "Yeah. You're bratty as fuck."

You shove at Jeongguk with both hands, causing him to stumble back into the hot sun and nearly crash into a couple walking by. He laughs, doubling over with his hands on his knees, and stays there for what feels like a very long time, causing you to laugh as well. And then he straightens out and motions for you to follow him while he begins to walk in the direction of a food cart.

The biggest downside to the drug seems to be how thirsty you become. You also seem to struggle with regulating your temperature, shivering in the shade and feeling stiflingly hot in the sun.

Jeongguk stands tall on his toes and leans his arms against the high metal shelf of the food cart while he orders a bottle of water and a couple of lollipops. You allow yourself to study his body, noting the way his tiny waist cinches above the band of his slacks, and how his torso curves up into broad, muscular shoulders.

Tattoos peek out from under his sleeve, littering his hand, and you remember the feeling of metal under his shirt when your palms felt his chest. There seems to be a lot about shy, sweet Jeongguk that you do not know. Perhaps it is no wonder why he and Yoongi get along so well.

Yoongi. Thinking about him makes you frown. You wish you knew what happened to him when Jeongguk told him to get lost. Everything has felt like a fever dream since you walked into the carnival grounds, and you continuously wonder when you will finally wake up.

Jeongguk holds out two lollipops, pulling you from your thoughts, and you examine their colorful wrappers, given the choice between grape and cherry. You pick grape, considering how good cherry might taste if you have the chance to suck it off of Jeongguk's tongue later.

"Thanks," you mutter sweetly, moving away from the food cart to a more secluded area as you pick at the little plastic wrapper with your fingertips.

With a sigh, Jeongguk sidles up close to you, blocking the sun. You stand near the backs of various trailers, some hitched together, and it feels nice to be away from the crowd.

"Do you feel guilty?" you ask.

Jeongguk takes his time to fuss with his wrapper, then asks, "About what?"

You turn your head to glance at Jeongguk, but find you would rather keep your eyes on your wrapper, finally peeling it open as you say, "About what we did."

"Why would I feel guilty?" he asks.

You twist the wrapper between your fingertips, feeling the slick plastic that bunches roughly. Your body is warm, and you become increasingly aware of your fixation, bunching up the wrapper and shoving it into your pocket.

"I think I'm high," you mutter.

Jeongguk snickers. "We already established that."

Your entire body shivers, whether you are cold or not. Right now, you are unsure what you are. Each time a breeze hits you, goosebumps break over your skin, and you reflexively lift your shoulders to your ears. But otherwise, the heat almost feels palpable, like you could cut into it with a knife.

The fact that it still feels like noon with the sun blaring high overhead starts to rattle around in your head, and you glance up at the sky, searching the clouds for movement. Even the sun does not seem to hurt your eyes as you stare directly into it.

How is it possible that time seems to stand still within the carnival grounds? Or have you completely lost your mind? The illusions show begins at 5, and there is no way it is close to that time.

As you lift the sucker to your lips, sugary grape flavor bursts on your taste buds more intensely than you could have possibly expected. You suck on it, coating your tongue and lips, then pull it out with a wet pop and mutter, "Wow."

"Good, huh?" Jeongguk asks.

You glance up and notice how the cherry lollipop has already stained Jeongguk's lips red. You want to stand high on your toes and trace your tongue over the color in search of just a hint of flavor.

"There you two are!" Jimin's voice pulls you from your thoughts, causing you to jolt.

He and Taehyung eye the two of you suspiciously, and you suddenly worry about your appearance. Despite spending so much time in the Hall of Mirrors staring at your warped reflections, you have no idea how you look.

"Having fun?" Taehyung asks, voice low and curious, eyes mostly on Jeongguk, who shrugs.

"We did some molly," he says plainly, yawning. "She's struggling to adjust, but we should even out soon."

You return the too-sweet sucker to your mouth. Taehyung hums and Jimin gives a worried glance at you before looking around.

"We don't have to go to the next show if you think it will be too intense," Jimin offers, bringing his concerned eyes back to you.

You shake your head, muttering around the candy, "I wanna go."

Jeongguk gives Taehyung a glance and the two of them seem to communicate telepathically. You lament briefly over not having close enough friendships to be able to read one another in such a way, but you do your best to shove away the thought.

Taehyung very softly asks, "We still have some time before the show, want to see this weird tent Jimin and I found?"

Something about the thought of a weird tent makes you uncomfortable. You ask, "Weird, how?"

Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip, eyes wide and staring at the ground, and Taehyung says, "You just have to see it. It's hard to explain."

"Where is it?" you ask, feeling as if your entire body is weighed down with lead and unwilling to move as the others turn to walk in its direction.

"Come on," Jeongguk insists, grabbing for your elbow and yanking you along.

You expect your newfound weight to hold you in place and keep you anchored in the shade, where it is safe, away from the weird tent, and you are disappointed to discover that you are still merely human, and easy for Jeongguk to drag along wherever he pleases.

The warmth radiating through your sleeve from Jeongguk's palm to your skin should feel comforting, but you find that it is too warm and somewhat oppressive. You remember rough calluses pressed against your lips.

You do your best to yank your arm away, keeping with his pace, and you are relieved when he lets go. You follow Jimin and Taehyung past the game booths, and you are startled when you see it along the edge of the space: a small tent with stripes that are red and what you assume used to be white, but now look more like a rusted off-tan.

A shiver runs along your spine, and you instantly feel a sense of ick and dread work its way through you, but your friends are undeterred. In fact, they seem to have a pep in their steps as you get closer.

"Should we be over here?" you ask.

Jimin turns, frowning as if you have just said something completely ridiculous, then rolls his eyes and giggles. "There's an opening on the side, and there is no explicit warning to stay out, so I don't see why not."

"You already checked this place out?" Jeongguk asks with a bit of a dreamy slowness to his speech.

"We started to," Taehyung responds, voice almost too soft to make out over the cacophony of carnival sounds. "But then we decided to come get you two."

Jimin rounds the tent along the right, and the rest of you follow him. Sure enough, the flap is open, and there is no indication that carnival guests are not allowed to enter. Strange, you think, since the tent is sitting somewhat secluded from the rest of the carnival attractions, a peculiar sight that you would think would cause people to want to investigate.

The tent is not too large, especially compared to those the Kim brothers use, but it is certainly not tiny. The opening is just shorter than your height, but the ceiling is raised several feet higher, and as you duck down and peer inside, just past Jimin's crouching body, it is large enough to contain what looks like a tiny living quarters.

"Are you sure we should be over here?" you ask again, eyes trailing from the small mattress at the far end of the space, past a kerosene lantern and several closed wooden trunks. There are books strewn about and a pair of boots on the floor. Something about the setup seems personal. Intimate.

"I assume it is meant to be one of those prop tents," Taehyung says from behind you, peeking to get a look. "To showcase how carnies live…or something to that effect."

"You know how, like, when we visit the historical park that has the buildings still styled the way they were in the Joseon dynasty?" Jimin says. You nod faintly. "Like that."

It is true that this tent may be just another prop, but something about it is strange. Perhaps it is just the molly making you feel so creeped out. Either way, you stand up straight and wiggle away from the entrance of the tent, allowing Taehyung and Jeongguk to step closer.

It is Jeongguk who walks all the way into the tent, and something about it makes your skin crawl. You shout, "Wait," and reach for him, but before you can react further, Jeongguk jolts backward and trips over himself, nearly falling to his butt on the grass.

You think you hear him mutter, "What the fuck?" causing goosebumps to break out on your arms and neck.

"What is it?" Jimin asks at the same time Taehyung says, "Whoa," and Jeongguk shakes his head and takes two steps backward.

"That was…" Jeongguk trails off, staring at the tent and then shaking his head and chuckling. Only, the sound is less mirthful and more unsure. "Damn. I need to lay off the drugs."

"What happened?" you ask, walking close to Jeongguk and turning your head to glance into the tent.

Everything looks normal, but you are unwilling to step any closer to inspect it. The unsettling feeling has only managed to grow.

"I thought I saw something," Jeongguk says, chuckling with unease some more. "Or, rather…someone? I don't really know."

This makes Jimin sigh loudly and stand up, turning to face you and Jeongguk. "Oh, give me a break," he groans. "You're just trying to scare us."

Jeongguk's face brightens as if he has been caught in the act by Jimin, but there is something in his eyes that seems scared and distant. Still, you remind yourself that the two of you are high, and you are definitely feeling heightened paranoia.

"Okay, well this has been fascinating," you say, walking slowly backward and away from the entrance. "But I still feel like I might be peaking, and I don't think I can handle any more of these creepy ass tent vibes."

To your delight, Jeongguk nods and follows you. Jimin seems intrigued by the tent, however, and it appears as though Taehyung is pointing into it, whispering something to Jimin.

"Should we just ditch them?" you ask, only half joking.

Jeongguk pulls out his phone and glances at it, then says, "We still have a little time before the illusions show. Wanna get in line for a snow cone? I saw a cart on the way over here."

A snow cone sounds amazing and you nod, feeling relief and excitement replace all the earlier dread. Out of stress, or possibly impatience, but likely the thought of enjoying something new, you chomp down on the grape sucker, crunching it between your teeth. Unsure what to do with the sticky grape-stained stick, you twirl it between your finger and thumb.

When you turn to see whether the other two are following, you are disappointed to find they are still bent at the hips and staring into the tent.

"We're gonna get snow cones," you try, but Jimin does not react, seemingly stuck in a trance.

It is Taehyung who glances past Jimin toward you and says, "We'll catch up to you."

Jeongguk shrugs and begins to lead the way, so you follow. With each step you take, the ground feels further and further away, and you are beginning to sweat quite a bit. Jeongguk sways his arms as he walks, and you wonder whether it would feel nice to do the same, but as you approach the paths where more people are, you feel too self-conscious to try it.

"What did you really see in the tent?" you ask, eyes on your feet as they step from grass to gravel.

"Yoongi hyung," Jeongguk says, causing you to nearly trip over yourself.

You halt and turn to Jeongguk, whose brows are knit and eyes are downcast. His toe kicks at a small rock.

"Be serious," you mutter.

Jeongguk looks up at you, frowning. "I am serious."

You roll your eyes, reach for his hand, and begin to yank in the direction of a medium-sized rectangular freezer box covered in ice cream and snow cone stickers that is shaded by a tall red and white umbrella. The person working the stand wears a light blue jacket and slacks that match the color of the freezer box.

The two of you get in line, and you realize you are still holding hands. Sweat drips from where your palms connect, and you attempt to pull away, but Jeongguk holds on tight. You feel gross as your wet skin slides against his, and you yank a little harder until he lets go.

Your mind wanders to Yoongi. Specifically, to Jeongguk and Yoongi. You wonder whether they hold hands as much as Jeongguk seems to want to hold yours. You like the idea of the two of them being so affectionate toward one another.

There are two other people in line ahead of you, and you watch as a person in a sunflower sundress reaches for a tall paper cone with a ball of bright red ice on top, grabbing it with two eager hands. The person beside them pays and receives their own snow cone – that one orange – and then you take a step forward as the person ahead of you leans forward to place an order.

"You don't believe me," you hear Jeongguk pout, but it takes a moment for you to acknowledge his voice and realize that he is talking about seeing Yoongi inside the tent.

You snicker. "Of course I don't believe you. Nobody else saw anyone in that tent, much less someone who looked like Yoongi."

The person ahead of you in line steps away, and you and Jeongguk step forward. He orders a small cup of vanilla soft-serve ice cream and you order a lime-flavored snow cone, suddenly feeling drawn to how green it is on the display images.

The attendant mutters about the total, which you can barely hear over the carnival songs that play nonstop and the shouting of people both near and far. You think you hear that it is 4,000 won, and you reach for your wallet, jabbing yourself in the hip with the sucker stick that you continue to hold onto, but Jeongguk swats your hand away before paying with his card.

The two of you stand in silence, and you wait for the paper cone filled with ice and syrup to be placed into your hands. You lament briefly over not considering the flavors more closely, wondering if you should have picked a berry flavor over a citrus one.

But when you take a frozen bite from the top, you are delighted by how bittersweet the lime flavor is – how different it is from the grape that lingers in sticky shards against your molars. It is perfectly refreshing for a hot summer day.

As you walk away from the ice cream booth, you notice that Jeongguk seems to be moseying in the direction of the larger carnival tents rather than where you left the others back at the small weird tent. You have the urge to look over your shoulder to see whether they are still there, but something causes you to continue forward. Unease, you think, of what you may see if you look back there again.

The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and the little hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. Although the snow cone seems to be evening out your high despite the flavor being incredibly intense, your mind continues to race in strange directions.

A lot has happened since you arrived here, and as much as you want to dwell on all the oddities and attempt to sort out what could be going on, something seems to be stopping you. It is as if each new event is being shoved into one of the various trunks you have seen inside each tent, and it is being locked away for safekeeping.

You are aware of what is being placed inside the trunks, but without the key to allow you access to each one, your mind is not fully allowed to perceive anything. The notion that your mind palace has become a circus tent filled with trunks makes you snicker.

You turn to Jeongguk, who has more or less inhaled his soft serve, using his tiny pink plastic spoon to scrape melted dredges from the bottom of the cup. He tips the edge of the paper cup back into his mouth and slurps the final drops, then lowers his arms to his sides and crumples it in his palm.

Suddenly, you feel self-conscious about the state of your own treat, and you wrap your lips around the small orange straw that sticks out from one of the sides and suck down melted ice and syrup. Cloying lime flavor bursts over your tongue, and you stop sucking in order to bite off some of the top ice that is more diluted in order to wash some of the taste away.

Jeongguk stops in his tracks, and you look up from your lime-flavored ice as you do the same, turning your gaze to him. His eyes are wide, and he stares ahead.

You glance to where you imagine he is staring, but only see a crowd of people separating you from the tents, which are now just across from you, on the other side of a wide pathway.

Looking to Jeongguk again, you ask, "What is it?"

"I told you I saw him," Jeongguk responds. He looks at you, lifts an eyebrow, then tilts his chin back to where he had been staring. "Look."

This time, when you follow his line of vision, you clearly see what – or, rather, who – Jeongguk was staring at. Standing beside the nearest red and white striped tent, wearing the same blue shirt and black slacks you last saw him in, is Yoongi.

He seems to be staring back at you, and you blink heavily several times, unsure whether it really is him.

Without another word, Jeongguk takes off walking briskly, twisting his body this way and that while narrowly avoiding strangers whose paths he cuts across. Your feet hesitate, then you begin to walk as well, more slowly and excusing yourself before stepping into someone's path, doing your best to keep your eyes on the back of Jeongguk's head and refrain from dropping your snow cone.

Once you are out into the clearing, on the grass beside the large tent and no longer dodging passersby, you take several quick steps until you are standing beside Jeongguk, whose arms are outstretched and shaking. You feel overwhelmed, the sun is bright, and you squeeze your eyes closed before opening them and taking in the scene before you.

Yoongi stands still staring at Jeongguk, arms to his sides. His shoulders are in Jeongguk's hands, and although Jeongguk shakes Yoongi, shouting something you cannot make out, Yoongi just looks at him blankly, unmoving aside from the jostling he cannot control.

"Say something," Jeongguk demands. He shakes harder, and Yoongi moves along like a ragdoll. "Yoongi! Hyung, say something!"

Everything about this feels wrong. You absentmindedly drop what is left of your snow cone and reach up with two heavy hands to place them on the arm closest to you, yanking it away from Yoongi's shoulder.

"Stop," you mutter weakly, eyes glued to Jeongguk's arm. "Jeongguk, stop."

Jeongguk drops his arms and then forcefully shakes your hands away from him. The harsh movement surprises you, and you take a step back, dizzy and concerned.

"This has nothing to do with you," Jeongguk says in a tone that feels hurt and angry and a myriad of other things.

You cannot bring yourself to look up, and instead, you stare at Jeongguk's black boots. "That's not— I just don't think you should be jerking him around like this," you say, almost to yourself as tears prickle your eyes.

Jeongguk scoffs. "Our relationship has nothing to do with you." His voice is calmer and quieter, but there is still an edge to it. "You're just a pretty little plaything we both enjoyed. Nothing more."

You shake your head. Jeongguk is understandably emotional, but you will not allow yourself to be pushed away so easily. "No. I care. You can't just—"

Jimin and Taehyung have appeared and are shouting while wrapping Yoongi in a hug. And then, in a blink, the sky is dim. It appears to be evening time, but the air holds the same oppressive heat.

You feel disoriented from the sudden change and consider sitting down on the lime-sticky ground, but a familiar man clad in white appears before you, and you lift your head to find his head cocked, eyes watching you intently.

"It is time," Jack says, lifting a hand and pivoting to point somewhat to the right, ahead of you.

You turn your gaze to find one of the Kim brothers rolling back the end of a large red and white tent flap and securing it so that it rests open. A black top hat on his head prevents you from telling which one he is until he lifts his head and his eyes meet yours.

Namjoon stands clad in red and black. His gaze is soft and attentive and familiar in a way that makes your heart ache.

"Are you ready?" Jack asks.

Trepidation fills you. "I don't know," you mutter.

Jack laughs. "Come, then," he says, placing his hand on your arm while his other hand continues to point toward the tent opening, which you can see from the periphery; your eyes are still on Namjoon. "No sense in wasting time."

You glance around and realize that Jeongguk and Yoongi are no longer standing nearby. The back of Jeongguk's head is with Jimin and Taehyung just ahead of you, in line to enter the tent, but you do not see Yoongi's tuft of dark hair with them. You attempt to look around, but the group of eager audience members has closed in on your right side, and you are unable to see past anyone.

You decide to keep up with your friends, and as you approach the entrance, Namjoon reaches a hand and takes one of yours. His warmth feels like home, and you stare at your hand in his.

"After the show, I would like to speak with you," he says. "Come to the tent. Jack or Hoseok will show you the way."

You nod, eyes on Namjoon's hand, which gives yours a squeeze, and then lets go. As you look up, ready to ask why Namjoon wants to see you, he turns in a flash of red velvet and enters the tent ahead of you, walking briskly into the darkness on the left. You are ushered inside and to the right.

Your group follows the familiar path by rote, along the back of tall wooden bleachers, then to the left and down a path leading to the front row, in an area where nobody else is seated. Seokjin is standing in front of the seats but on the stage floor, speaking with Hoseok, the twin in black. Jack stands on the outside of the row of seats, palm held upward, signaling where to go.

As Jimin settles, then Taehyung, and then Jeongguk, you realize there is definitely no Yoongi. The seat to your left is empty, and it is the last one in the row. You glance around, wondering whether he is off somewhere just in the distance. Perhaps, you think, he will join you once the show starts.

You turn to Jeongguk, who stares down at his open hands. His eyebrows are pinched, and he appears lost.

"Jeongguk?" you ask, voice low and hushed.

"He just…disappeared," Jeongguk mutters.

You look around, watching as people fill the seats of the tent, then return your gaze to Jeongguk, who is unmoved. "What do you mean?"

Jeongguk blinks several times, then shakes his head in shallow movements. "I was shaking him. Telling him to say something. Anything." His voice is monotone. He almost sounds programmed to speak; emotionless. "Hoseok hyung said something to me, and I turned to look at him for only a moment, and when I turned again, Yoongi was gone. It was like he vanished into thin air."

The notion is so ridiculous, you feel your lips crack into a smile. You want to shove at Jeongguk and tell him to quit the act. "What do you mean, vanished? Your hands were on him. Didn't you feel him go?"

Jeongguk turns his gaze to you. His eyes are filled with tears, and he appears devastated. Your heart sinks at the sight of him – at the gravity of his gaze – and you tear your eyes away, to Seokjin standing about ten feet away on the stage floor watching you.

Seokjin pulls his black top hat from his head and lowers his gaze as he bows. He wears a dark green jacket that matches Namjoon's red one, and as he stands up straight and places his hat back onto his head, he stares at you, grinning.

The lights in the tent go out, but you continue to watch Seokjin's grin. A spotlight shines onto the center of the stage, behind Seokjin, and you want to lift your gaze and look – to confirm whether it is Namjoon standing in the spotlight – but your eyes remain glued to the devious smile before you.

“Come one, come all!” Namjoon's voice calls, booming over the cheers and clapping of the audience. Seokjin lip-syncs along, matching Namjoon's timing perfectly. “Welcome to Carnival Bizarre! The greatest show in the world!”

A symbol crashes, piano keys pound in a cacophonic crescendo of sound, and you look up to find Namjoon standing in the spotlight, arms outstretched, with fireworks bursting and crackling up from his outstretched fingertips.

When you look back to where Seokjin had just stood, nobody is there. You glance to the left, to the darkness of the bleachers across the path, then behind you as far as you can see, twisting this way and that, but no familiar faces greet you aside from Jeongguk, who watches ahead with tears in his eyes.

Delicate piano music plays, and Namjoon holds his left arm out in front of him, palm downward. You see something shimmering below his hand, glinting in the spotlight, but you are unable to make out what it is.

A golden glow of light fills the area, not enough to brighten the tent, but enough to allow you to see faint shadows cast all over. They remind you of wooden drawing mannequins with rounded shapes for hands and feet, and ball joints between each limb.

"Strings," Namjoon says, voice soft but booming in the surrounding speakers. You blink, returning your gaze to him, and you think that you can make out thick, dark strings hanging from Namjoon's fingertips that glimmer in the spotlight. Namjoon dances his fingers up and down, causing the strings to jump and sway, and you stare intently. "I control them with my movements. Small and deliberate. I make them dance."

All around, the silhouettes dance. Their legs spread strangely, and their arms jerk around, showing that they are all being controlled by strings. Your eyes move from left to right, watching the figures move, until you notice something.

To the right of Namjoon is a large dark mass. It is mostly in shadow, hard to make out, and you stare and stare until finally, you realize that it is a large piano. The music that plays throughout the space is predominantly that of a piano, and you squint and strain your eyes, trying to see whether someone is sitting before this one, but you see nobody.

"Will my lovely volunteer please join me?" Namjoon asks, and you tear your gaze back to him, then glance eagerly around the dark tent.

A new spotlight shines behind Namjoon, just to the right, past the piano. There, a figure stands near an entrance across the way that you imagine could lead to the backstage area. The figure has short, dark hair, but his head is tilted downward. He makes you think of Yoongi.

He wears a dark blue fitted jacket with rows of gold down the front that you imagine may be frog knots – hussar style. But from this distance, feeling as high as you are, it is hard to be certain.

"Yoongi?" Jeongguk mutters, adjusting in his seat and making you glance to your right.

Jeongguk frowns, and you open your mouth to speak, but your attention returns to the center of the tent as piano music picks up to a medium tempo and you notice Namjoon moving his hands.

It appears as if Namjoon is only lifting certain fingers, causing certain strings to respond. And, it appears as if with each movement, one of the legs of the volunteer moves, causing him to walk forward into the space.

In fact, you think you can see something shimmering in long strings from the tops of the man's black shoes, from the backs of his hands, and from the crown of his head. But as your vision moves upward, the strings seem to disappear. It is some illusion, indeed.

"Small movements are easy to control with just my fingers," Namjoon says.

He raises his right hand and seems to touch two of the strings hanging from his left. You notice the arms of the volunteer sway. The man truly appears as if he is a puppet being manned by Namjoon, and there is a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that this may not be an illusion.

Heavy-blinking and shaking your head, you attempt to clear away the errant thoughts and focus solely on the show. Of course, the man is not really a volunteer. Clearly, this is a practiced routine between two actors.

As the man approaches the piano at the center of the floor, it is hard not to notice all the ways in which he reminds you of Yoongi. The hair seems a little shorter – a little straighter than he had been wearing it. But his broad shoulders and large hands…his lithe waist and long legs…the resemblance is there.

And then you remember it: the card Seokjin handed you while inside Namjoon's tent. There was a figure with dark brown hair wearing a blue jacket, and he was playing a piano. The bottom of the card read, The Fool.

"Large movements, however…" Namjoon trails off.

The man stops just before the instrument – which you now realize is an organ. Namjoon raises his right hand at the same time his left hand makes a sudden movement, and all at once, the man lifts his head and a round curtain falls around him and the organ, causing you to gasp.

Namjoon continues, "Large movements, I must control with my mind."

You sit up straight, holding your breath, certain that it has to be Yoongi behind that curtain.

"This volunteer of mine is a regular man," Namjoon insists, using his right hand to lift the hat from his head and tip it as he makes a small curtsey motion, showing that he is a man of his word. A gentleman. "He has no formal training, and he has never visited this circus before. He is—"

Namjoon stands up straight and looks forward. You think, directly at you.

"—a stranger."

There is a harshness to Namjoon's tone that is matched by a solemn note echoing throughout the tent, though you do not think it is from the organ behind the curtain. The music is soft and fleeting, arriving and dissipating for dramatic effect, likely from a soundboard backstage.

And then, the music is gone entirely. Silence hangs, save for your heaving, anxious breaths.

"Volunteer," Namjoon says magnanimously. You and Jeongguk shift in your seats. "Play Passacaglia in D minor by Dieterich Buxtehude."

The round curtain lifts with the movement of Namjoon's hand, and sitting before you in a blue hussar jacket adorned with golden embroidery, is Yoongi. He begins his song the moment he is commanded to do so, and with the organ angled just so, you can see his hands moving over the keys. Namjoon's right hand sways in small conductor movements, up to the center and down to the side, as if keeping Yoongi's tempo.

Shimmering strings appear to jut out from Yoongi's hands and the crown of his head. You swallow thickly, watching Yoongi play, never making a single mistake, as if he has practiced this song over and over again. All around, in the periphery, you can see that the silhouetted mannequins are dancing.

Your heart is a caged animal thrumming behind your ribs. The song Yoongi plays is somewhat slow-paced, with both bright sounds and sad ones, tugging you between highs and lows, making you feel extremely unsettled. There is a sort of discordant nature to the song that strikes a deep, hollow longing inside you, as well as a sense of hopefulness.

You wonder whether Jeongguk is as enraptured as you, feeling the same way you may, but you do not turn your gaze. You do not dare so much as blink for fear of Yoongi disappearing again.

"Faster, now," Namjoon commands, moving his hand much more quickly. Yoongi's tempo increases, matching Namjoon's movements. Although you do not take your eyes off Yoongi, it is clear that the shadows are moving faster, too.

Lights swirl, and there is something like glitter sparkling in the air, threatening to distract you, but you do not fall prey to the petty tricks of the illusionist. You sit on the edge of your seat, elbows digging hard into your upper thighs, mouth dry and hung open, and you watch intently.

"That's it," Namjoon says, speeding his movements again. "Faster, now! Faster!"

Although you can still hear the song that was playing earlier – can still make out the familiar modular rhythm and predict each sound that comes next – it is harsh and cacophonic. Dizzying. At last, you blink and lick your lips. Your shoulders are tense and raised, and you breathe slowly, nearly holding your breath.

Around you, the shadows are tangled and chaotic, and it is impossible not to avert your gaze whenever a head rolls or a limb snaps. You think you hear wood splintering and cracking, and although Yoongi is made of flesh and bone, you worry for him.

Namjoon shouts, "Enough!" and uses the fingers of his right hand shaped like scissors to cut beneath his left hand, where strings would be hanging from his fingertips.

Yoongi falls limp and the song ends in an abrupt crash as his hands and forehead meet the keys. You gasp. Beside you, Jeongguk stands up from his seat.

The round curtain falls over Yoongi and the organ, and the spotlight cuts out, leaving just the one on Namjoon glowing. There are no silhouettes on the walls.

All around you, shimmering silver strings fall like snow from the ceiling, landing on your hair and in your lap, draping over your limbs and creating a sort of mist that obfuscates the stage just long enough for everything but Namjoon to disappear.

Jeongguk looks as if he is about to jump over the shin-high wooden railing and down onto the floor in search of his boyfriend. He grumbles and fights with Taehyung, who appears to be holding him in place and muttering something low and angry.

On the stage, Namjoon lifts both arms, which are covered in silver strings, and he bows. The audience stands, claps, and cheers. You feel glued to your seat.

Upbeat organ music plays and the lights come up, but it is only when Hoseok appears clad in black before you, that you move. You heavy-blink, eyes struggling to take in the brightness of the overhead lighting while silver glitters all around you. The air feels heavy and oppressive, and you are suddenly eager to leave.

"Kim Namjoon would love to see the two of you," Hoseok says, eyes trailing between Jeongguk and you. Then he glances further past Jeongguk, to Taehyung and Jimin, adding, "If you don't mind."

You neither hear nor see their responses. Hoseok steps over the wooden railing and walks past you along the path, leading the way. Jeongguk walks without waiting for you, slamming into your right and causing you to trip as you twist to follow. Then he wraps his arms around you, pinning your arms to your sides and steadying you, causing you to flush hot from head to toe.

Hoseok does not wait, and you hurry ahead, yanking from Jeongguk's arms to make your way along the path. Rather than turning right, to the entrance, he turns left. You follow Hoseok into the darkness, around the inner perimeter of the tent, toward an opening from which a red light glows.

Your stomach churns, and you swallow the trepidation that builds and builds. Behind you, Jeongguk mutters, "Where are we going?" but you do not have the answer, so you pay him no mind and continue forward.

Before you can worry further, Namjoon appears in the doorway. His gaze is soft and inviting, causing your worry to dissipate. As if being pulled on a leash, you hurry to him, stopping only when the toes of your shoes meet the tips of his.

Namjoon looks at you with reverence, smiling softly. Then he looks past you, expression painted over with something more neutral and polite. He nods to Jeongguk, then pivots to walk into the red light.

"This way," he says, leading you through a hallway to the wall of the tent, which he reaches for and pulls away, revealing the outside world, which is still somewhat dim and feels like the evening. There is another tent opening just across from this one, which Namjoon steps inside of, pausing in its entryway to wait for you and Jeongguk.

You turn in time to see Namjoon pull the tent flap down. You watch as it seemingly disappears and becomes the tent wall; no seams or hems giving its edge away.

"I have something that the two of you must see," Namjoon says, walking toward his desk on the right side. You realize that in the past, you have entered on the opposite end of the tent, and you gaze around at the newfound view, taking in the trunks and clothing to the left, the piles of books to the right, the bed just ahead.

"Where is Yoongi?" Jeongguk insists, walking past you to Namjoon. Jeongguk stands up straight, squaring his shoulders, and you notice a tremor in his balled fists.

Namjoon appears unfazed and simply blinks at Jeongguk before belatedly offering him a friendly smile.

"Yoongi is safe. Once he is finished backstage, you will see him again."

"Finished with what?" Jeongguk demands, chest heaving. "What is he doing back there?"

Namjoon turns to face you and lifts a hand, beckoning you forward. You had not realized you stopped walking about halfway, and you slowly make your way toward the two of them, each step feeling heavy.

You approach and round the desk somewhat, putting the bed behind you, keeping it from view. The bed brings back flashes of Seokjin's hypnosis show and cause your cheeks to burn hot, so you do your best to tamp the images down. Jeongguk stands to your right, anger pouring from him as he waits for a response.

"Take this, ducky," Namjoon says. "Peer into this mirror and tell me what you see."

Sound becomes fuzzy, and you lean forward as Namjoon lifts a mirror from his desk and holds it out to you, cradling it carefully in both hands. It is an oval hand mirror with an ornate brass frame and handle.

You take the mirror in both hands, gripping it tightly around the handle while the fingertips of your left hand cradle the back. At first, you only see your face. But then, you see something in the reflection behind you, hanging from the ceiling.

Pale limbs are wrapped in bright red rope. The patterns and knots appear artistically done.

"Rope," you mutter, squinting and tilting the mirror past your own face. For a split second, you glance over your shoulder, expecting to see the suspended visitor, but all you see is an empty space beside Namjoon's bed.

Looking at the mirror again, you hold it so close that your breath fogs the glass. You think that you can see dark hair hanging on one side, and pale feet on the other. Once again, the figure you see reminds you of Yoongi.

"Is that…a body?"

"Yours?" Namjoon asks.

You shake your head. "Not mine."

"Interesting," he says. "Good. This is good."

You look up, over the edge of the mirror, to Namjoon. Silver strings hang from your hair and glimmer over your eyes, and you think about pale limbs wrapped in red rope – about the snowfall of silver strings inside the tent.

His gaze is on you, and there is an easy smile on his lips. You tilt your head, asking, "What is it?"

Namjoon watches you, eyes slowly darting back and forth as if taking you in and deciding what to say. His soft, familiar gaze returns and your body yearns for him. Curiosity and arousal simmer through you, and you cannot help but stare directly into his dark brown eyes – sharp as a dragon's but deep as the sea.

"Try as I may to weave the strands together in any order I wish," Namjoon responds, lips down turning to a gentle frown, "you are the one who chooses the order of the strands. I am merely a conduit."

Namjoon's words roll over you in a tall, slow wave. They crash, covering you and breaking around your feet, only to dissipate into nothing. He is speaking in sentences you should be able to parse easily – uses phrases that some part of you understands.

But you know that there must be a deeper meaning, and that part of you who you are certain knows what that meaning is, feels buried, somehow, and all you can do is blink owlishly and mutter, "Huh?"

Namjoon laughs a soft quiet sound that dies in his mouth but twists his lips into a beautiful, genuine smile. You stare, confused as ever, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"Jeongguk," Namjoon says instead, reaching for the mirror and taking it from your grasp.

You feel caught in a daze as you allow the mirror to be taken, putting up no resistance. Your arms fall limply to your sides.

Jeongguk does not handle the mirror with care. Rather, he grips it on both sides, thumbs digging into the glass as he peers into it. At first, he appears angry and impatient. But then his eyes widen with fear, and his hands begin to shake.

"Jeongguk?" you ask, stepping forward.

Jeongguk shakes harder, his grip on the mirror turning his fingers white. You reach for it, but stop your movement when you hear the sharp sound of the glass cracking.

Namjoon lets out a sigh and says, "Oh, dear."

You glance from Namjoon to Jeongguk and notice a jagged red line opening across Jeongguk's forehead, over the bridge of his nose, and down to his cheek. Jeongguk gasps, lets out a crazed shout, and opens his hands.

"This is no good," Namjoon says as the mirror crashes to the floor.

* * *

My blossoms are falling What a strange feeling When it's so early in the year As soon as they are flowers They go and leave forever Sweet blossom Where is your tree? * Their happiness will shine Their happiness will grow And I hope you don't mind if I let them go

🎵 visit the playlist!

HELLOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 💜💜💜 i am no longer going to promise to be back sooner bc it is always a lie. 💀 i had the writer's block/getting straight As/grief trifecta all year, but i am............well, i shouldn't even say it bc i don't wanna jinx it but i hope i am back??? god, this chapter was so much fun to write and it genuinely invigorated something so 🤞🤞🤞 fingers fricken crossed.

POLLS WILL GO UP SOON!!! i only have one so far that is planned, but i am going to outline a bit and see what other fates i can place in your hands. polls will run for 7 days and i will do my best to reblog!!!

thanks for your patience. i love you. i have missed you.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS MEAN THE WORLD, AND LIKES ARE APPRECIATED, TOO!!! STAY HYDRATED. 🤍

tags will be in a separate reblog! 🎪 visit the master post to read the disclaimer & request to be tagged! tag list includes the polls!!!

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Carnival of Terror is a Goosebumps-inspired fic, copyright theharrowing 2023 - 2024. no translations or reposting allowed!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #bts horror #bts angst #bts circus #choose your own adventure #fic: carnival of terror #bts poly

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kingofbodyrolls · 9 months ago

Text

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | ten

🐴Chapter summary: When Mikrokosmos goes missing, you don’t know what to do and when Jimin suddenly starts talking to you, wanting to help find your horse, you’re not sure if you should accept or not. When you can’t find Mikrokosmos and have to spend a night with Jimin in the wide open land, will old feelings bloom? 🐴Chapter title: The First Touch 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: explicit smut in the form of unprotected sex; sex in public (they are outside in nature by themselves), oral (both male and female receiving), very very brief anal play (female receiving), nipple play, hair pulling, sweet/dirty talk, pet name (babe), cock warming, multiple orgasms, a loooooooot of kissing (so much that it should be illegal), just very slow and tender love making. Jimin is very gentle, but he is also a devil 👿 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 16.4k (whoopps, but it’s smut!)

🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “The First Touch” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: hello, how are you doing? After weeks of leaving you high and dry and potentially crying, I finally come bearing a gift in the form of slow and sensual smut. I really hope you love it, otherwise, shame on you (I’m sorry I just really love it, and it will get dirtier later (yes, that was more smut promised!)). This chapter was so fucking fun to write, and can you belive I wrote it in a day? The last three previous chapters have been harder to write, because they were more angsty, but this, oh dear god, when I write smut and fluff, the words just flows differently 🥰 So I really hope that you enjoy this, I ended up turning myself on with the smut, so yeah… I hope that means that it is good, please let me know okay???

And I am so sorry for all the angst I put you through, if you need therapy like me, send me the bill, okay? 🥹 We also finally get some answers to Jimin’s behavior the last chapters!! I really hope you enjoy, and I hope you haven’t given up on this series 😭

PSA! For the ultimate reading experience, I recommend grabbing a warm blanket and something nice to drink (whatever you like; water, tea, cocoa etc) 🫂

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.Wanna see the book cover?

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“When I finally touch you Soft upon your skin You travel to the heart of me And so it begins” - ‘The First Touch’ by Rebecca Lavelle

You find yourself yearning for the ground to swallow you whole. The aftermath of the gala weighs heavily on your mind, and you’ve been evading Jimin ever since. Anger still lingers, but embarrassment overshadows it. Why on earth did you let yourself unleash such a torrent of emotions on him?

You release a frustrated groan, urging Marshmallow to stretch his stride, his powerful hooves churning up the earth beneath. The wind whips through your hair, carrying with it the anticipation of your imminent arrival at Bell Ranch.

Praying to avoid any encounter with Jimin or his undoubtedly furious girlfriend, you navigate the winding path to Bell Ranch with a knot of apprehension in your stomach. The thought of further embarrassment looms over you like a storm cloud, urging you to keep a low profile and escape unscathed.

Marshmallow ambles toward the pen, Yoongi immersed in his labor. Presently, his focus is on a horse adorned with a tapestry of brown and white spots, each stroke of his skilled hands an intimate dance with the wild spirit captured within the creature’s untamed gaze.

You bring Marshmallow to a stop, securing the reins to the fence, before settling into your customary perch. From this vantage point, you observe Yoongi, his hands orchestrating a ballet with the untamed energy of the horse.

Suddenly, a stir in the vicinity of the house catches your attention, prompting you to shift your gaze. There, you spot Jimin making his way toward you, an unusual limp in his stride suggesting he might have overexerted himself today. Despite the evident fatigue, he’s adorned in a button-down shirt, sleeves casually rolled up, revealing the golden hue of his skin and the well-defined contours of his biceps. A gentle breeze plays with his blonde locks as he traverses the yard.

A curiosity nags at you as you observe Jimin’s solitary figure, wondering about the absence of Deiji and the distant expression etched across his face, brows knit in contemplation. The air seems to carry the weight of his thoughts, leaving you to ponder what might be troubling him. Just as you’re caught in this web of speculation, the abrupt roar of an engine pierces the air, drawing your attention. Swiftly, Jimin mounts his blue dirt bike, tearing out of the yard with an intensity that propels him over hills and into the expanse of a distant paddock.

He’s likely headed off to some task, a sentiment that resonates with your own responsibilities awaiting attention. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you shift your gaze back to Yoongi, his tender gestures toward the spotted horse capturing a moment of tranquility amidst the ranch’s bustling routine.

Yoongi’s playful grin widens as he teases, well aware that your attention involuntarily drifted towards Jimin once more. “How are you doing?”

A light chuckle escapes you. “Well, hanging in there. Just grappling with the lingering sense of embarrassment, you know?”

He erupts into laughter, the kind that reveals his gums and sets his chest into a hearty jiggle. “Got it. I heard Jimin’s girlfriend was less than thrilled with your little performance at the gala.”

You scoff, indifferent about his opinion. Regret lingers for your harsh words, a realization that an apology is overdue—a bridge you’ve yet to cross.

“I understand, but I was just so mad, and I couldn’t hold back,” you admit, your scuffed tone matching the internal storm that rages within, hands tightly clenched atop your legs.

“It’s alright. I don’t think Jimin minds. You’ve given him plenty to ponder,” he mentions, continuing to pat the spotted horse. Your raised eyebrow prompts him to elaborate.

“What do you mean?” you ask, curiosity sparking in your eyes, eager to understand his insinuation.

“The house has been unusually quiet since the gala. Maybe Jimin has taken your words to heart?” he suggests, eyebrows dancing in speculation. You scoff, skeptical of such a notion.

“Let’s shift the conversation, shall we? I’m done with Jimin,” you declare, though a part of you acknowledges that you’re far from finished with the unresolved tension. Uncertain whether you should approach Jimin – preferably without yelling this time – or wait for him to make the first move, you consider extending an apology to both him and Deiji.

Yoongi chuckles, orchestrating a rhythmic dance with the spotted horse as they traverse the pen at a leisurely pace. “Sure,” he replies with a hint of amusement in his voice.

A heavy sigh escapes you, and a pregnant pause lingers, only to be broken by Yoongi’s next words.

“I have a date with Hobi,” he announces, a radiant smile gracing his face, yet beneath the joy, a subtle tremor betrays a touch of nervous anticipation in his voice.

A grin spreads across your face, mirroring your genuine excitement. “That’s fantastic!”

Your enthusiasm bubbles over, revealing just how genuinely thrilled you are for him.

Your eyes light up with genuine joy as you congratulate him, “I’m so happy for you, Yoon.” Your smile reflects the warmth and sincerity of your words.

A playful glint in his eyes, he teases, “Thank you, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

Anticipation bubbles within you, eager to hear the tales of their date, whenever they get to have it. As your thoughts wander, a silent wish lingers in the recesses of your mind—hoping for a touch of joy not just for Yoongi but for yourself as well, because you both deserve it, dammit.

“Are you ready to get Mikrokosmos home?” Yoongi’s question jolts you from your daydreams, nudging your focus back to reality. You silently curse yourself for entertaining thoughts about how their date would go and then your mind instantly wanders to sex. Damn, you really need to get laid. Why does your mind always have to go there?

You laugh nervously, your excitement bubbling to the surface. “Absolutely! I can’t wait to welcome Mikrokosmos home at last.”

“I’ll wrap things up here, and then we can ride her home together, sound good?” he suggests, a hopeful smile lighting up his face. You eagerly nod; a ride with the wind in your hair always has a way of soothing your heart.

As Yoongi wraps up his work with the spotted horse, coaxing it into accepting the halter, you watch attentively. Once done, he opens the gate, guiding the horse into a paddock. Together, you make your way to the stables to saddle up Mikrokosmos.

With unwavering patience, you nuzzle Mikrokosmos gently as you expertly fit the bridle and saddle onto her. Leading her out of the barn, you make your way down to the pen where Marshmallow awaits, tethered to the fence.

“Mind if I take Marshmallow? Later, Soo-ah or Ara can give me a ride home,” he proposes, deftly unfastening the reins from the fence. With a fluid motion, he swings one leg over Marshmallow’s sturdy back, securing himself in the saddle.

With a nod, you replicate the motion with Mikrokosmos. Grasping the stirrup, you press your weight onto your foot, smoothly swinging your body over the black mare’s back. A soft, airy whinny escapes her as you settle into the saddle.

“Let’s go!” you exclaim with enthusiasm, gently pressing your legs against Mikrokosmos’s side. She eases into a lazy canter before bursting into a steady gallop. Yoongi follows in your wake, and together, you ride over the hills, the sun casting a warm glow on your skin. In companionable silence, you savor the moment, connecting with nature and the rhythmic pulse of the horses beneath you.

Your heart races within your chest as you revel in the sensation of riding Mikrokosmos. Her movements feel like a dance, as if she’s carrying you to extraordinary places. Today, that destination is home. The anticipation builds as you look forward to having your horse with you at last. Countless hours of hard work have led to this moment, and the thought of bringing her home fills you with excitement and satisfaction.

The wind gently tousles your hair as you grip the reins, relishing the familiar sensation of freedom while riding. There’s a profound joy in being so intimately connected with nature. This feeling, the rush of wind, the rhythmic gait of the horse—it’s something you’ve truly missed. Since your dad took you away from the ranch, you’ve felt the absence keenly. Now, as you ride, you’re determined to reclaim everything you lost, to rediscover the simple yet profound joys that the ranch offers.

In no time, you and Yoongi arrive back at the familiar embrace of home. Guiding your horses up to the barn, you expertly stow them away, each finding comfort in their respective stalls.

As you and Yoongi make your way to the house, the air is suddenly pierced by the thunderous roar of an engine. Turning, you spot Jungkook’s sleek bike charging into the yard, your sister snugly positioned behind him. With a smooth halt, he steadies the bike, kicking the stand into place and plants his boots on the ground, unveiling his disheveled black hair as he removes the helmet. Following suit, Jessi frees her own brown locks, letting them playfully dance around her face in the breeze, a tandem display of casual grace as the bike’s engine settles into a quiet hum.

Your hand rises in a friendly wave, reciprocated by the warm smiles adorning both Jungkook and Jessi’s faces as they draw near.

“Hi,” resonates in perfect harmony from both, your sister’s fingers intimately intertwined with Jungkook’s. A twinge of happiness for them pulls at your heart, yet it’s hard not to let a tinge of personal sadness creep in as well.

Yoongi strolls up to Jungkook, nodding toward the bike, “Mind if I borrow that to ride home, in case you’re crashing here?”

Jungkook laughs and gives a casual nod, “Sure thing. Jessi’s playing chauffeur for me tomorrow.”

Yoongi grins with satisfaction, sharing a quick hug and bidding you farewell. He hops onto the dirt bike, revving the engine to life, the sound echoing through the air.

You stand there, watching as Yoongi rides off into the distance, a cloud of dust rising in his wake, the roar of the engine gradually fading into the peaceful surroundings.

“I’m going to grab a quick snack before dinner, do you want some?” You cast a casual glance toward your sister and Jungkook as you leisurely make your way toward the house.

“As long as it’s a sandwich, count me in,” Jungkook chuckles, with your sister in tow. The duo follows you into the house and converges in the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you survey the available ingredients for sandwich-making. Jungkook and Jessi settle at the small table on the side, eagerly anticipating the creation of the culinary delights.

You retrieve the bread, butter, and a medley of ham and cheese from the fridge. Your hands move with a rhythmic grace, deftly assembling the ingredients, all the while humming the sweet melody of a love song that resonates in the air.

“Have you talked with Jimin since the gala?”Jungkook’s question punctures the air, shattering the peaceful rhythm of your sandwich-making. The ingredients lay untouched as you turn your attention to him, his words echoing in the kitchen.

Without turning away from the task at hand, you respond to Jungkook’s inquiry, your voice laced with a mix of uncertainty and a tinge of regret. “No, and I’m not sure he even wants to talk to me after everything that happened.”

As you continue working, your back facing Jungkook and your sister, you sense his understanding nod and his voice carries a gentle insistence. “I really think you should talk to him this time.”

You pivot, your eyes locking onto Jungkook, a giant question mark etched across your face.

“Why?” You inquire, curiosity and a hint of reluctance evident in your expression.

A sly smirk lingers on his lips, aggravating you further. The infuriating knowledge he possesses irks you to no end. “I think he has something to tell you,” he teases, and you find yourself caught between irritation and curiosity. A sarcastic chuckle escapes your lips as you refocus on the sandwiches, allowing the knife to slice through them, the sharp blade echoing your conflicted emotions.

“Here,” you offer, presenting Jungkook with a plate laden with half a dozen sandwiches, though your sister politely declines any.

You snatch one for yourself, shooting a casual yet meaningful glance back at them, “Enjoy.”

Savoring each bite of the sandwich, you ascend the stairs to your bedroom, where your eyes linger on the canvas mounted on the easel. The palette has shifted, with softer tones emerging – hints of pink intermingling with delicate whites and purples, forming a composition reminiscent of a blossoming cherry tree.

Sinking into the soft embrace of your bed, a cascade of thoughts floods your mind. The weight of an overdue apology to Jimin and his girlfriend hangs over you, a lingering echo from the turbulent gala. Yet, Jungkook’s mysterious hint at something he knows adds an intriguing layer to your contemplation. Recognizing the need for resolution, you resolve to extend the olive branch of an apology first, aiming to pave the way for a more composed and genuine conversation with Jimin. The anticipation of what both interactions might unveil stirs within you, pushing you to take the first step towards reconciliation.

In an unexpected twist of events, you drift into an unplanned slumber, the embrace of sleep enveloping you so thoroughly that dinner becomes a distant echo. No one ventures to rouse you, and you awaken later on your bed, a half-eaten sandwich still clutched in your hand. The rhythmic resonance of hooves reverberates, drawing you to the window. A herd of wild horses, led by the imposing brown stallion, unfolds in the yard, remarkably close. Its flaring nostrils and challenging hoof scratches paint a vivid picture of defiance. Despite the intriguing spectacle, weariness tugs at you as you wearily retreat to your bed.

A disquieting sensation grips you, seeping into the very marrow of your bones and settling like a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. An unsettling intuition whispers that things are amiss, and you can’t shake the ominous feeling that something, somewhere, has gone terribly wrong.

Emerging from your bed, your hair a tousled bird’s nest, you scan the room, finding the familiar unchanged. In the bathroom, the routine of brushing your teeth provides a momentary distraction as foam swells in your mouth, only to be expelled and washed away. The warm shower cascades over you, but an indefinable unease persists. Hastily drying off, you return to your room, donning a shirt and pants with urgency. Boots secured, hat in hand, you bound down the stairs, a sense of urgency propelling each step.

Entering the kitchen, a picture of concern greets you — Jungkook, your sister, Soo-ah, Ara, and Ha-rin all wear furrowed brows, leaving you bewildered as to the unfolding situation.

“What’s happened?” You urgently inquire, your voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and foreboding, a silent acknowledgment that your unsettling intuition might have been onto something significant.

“The herd of wild horses were here last night,” Jungkook informs, a flicker of annoyance crossing his gaze as it shifts from your sister to you.

“Half of the horses are missing,” she exclaims, her voice tinged with frustration, a deep sigh escaping her. You stand there, gaping at them, a sinking feeling settling in. Half of the horses gone? The implications of this revelation weigh heavily on your mind, leaving you bewildered and searching for answers.

“How in the world are half of the horses missing?” you demand, furrowing your brows in disbelief. Nausea churns in your stomach as you contemplate which horses might be gone, a sense of urgency and worry gripping your every thought.

In a calm voice, Ha-rin explains, “It was the stallion. He kicked down the fence, and the horses bolted…”

You nod solemnly. Yoongi’s cautionary words about the troublesome stallion echo in your mind.

Your voice trembles with fear as you ask, “Which paddock?”

Jessi’s voice drops, “The East paddock,” she says, her anger seeping into every word as she sinks into a chair.

Realization crashes over you like a tidal wave. After stalling Mikrokosmos for the night, you released her into that same East paddock for some freedom—whatever freedom a fenced enclosure could offer. Oh, no. Could Mikrokosmos be among the missing horses?

“Mikrokosmos?” The word escapes your lips, a desperate plea wrapped in the echo of your worst fears. You don’t need them to confirm it; the sinking weight in your chest tells you everything. The truth is etched across their faces, mirroring the dread that’s settled in your bones since you woke up.

Fury courses through Jessi’s words as she spits out the painful truth, “She’s gone too, along with some of the other mares.” Her hand crashes down on the table, a symphony of anger and frustration. Jungkook steps in, his calming touch a feeble attempt to soothe the storm unleashed.

Hatred drips from Jessi’s words like venom as she rages, “That’s why I hate those damn wild animals! Always stealing our horses. That stallion probably wanted Mikrokosmos back…” Her words pierce the air, causing an uncomfortable twist in your stomach. Is she implying this is somehow your fault?

You begin to protest, “I didn’t have anything to do with this,” but Jessi dismisses your words with a quick and dismissive wave.

“I don’t think you did. I’m not blaming you. I’m just furious at that wretched stallion,” she explains, her anger palpable and raw, but there’s a softer edge to her words too.

It’s a relief to know she doesn’t pin this on you, that you’re not burdened with the blame. A soft sigh escapes your lips.

“So, what’s the plan then?” You inquire, scanning the faces in the crowded kitchen, a sense of urgency in your voice.

“We need to mend that fence, Jungkook, can we count on you for help?” Your sister implores, turning to him with a hopeful expression. He responds with a firm nod and a reassuring grip on her shoulder.

“Of course.”

“Feel free to track down the wild horses and check if you can locate them. Unfortunately, we’re short-handed today,” your sister suggests, rising from her seat and gazing out the window.

“No worries. I’ll head over to Yoongi and see if he can spare some time to join me,” you assure them with a gentle smile. Beneath the surface, a mix of sadness and frustration bubbles as you long for Mikrokosmos to return.

With determined steps, you rush out of the house and bound up to the stables, the urgency echoing in your every movement. In the quiet embrace of the stable, Marshmallow awaits, his presence a comforting balm to your racing thoughts. Swiftly, you open the door, embracing him in a soft hug before gearing him up with a bridle and saddle. Together, you emerge from the barn, and with a decisive leap, you saddle up, urging Marshmallow into a gallop, heading towards the Bell ranch with determination in your heart.

The wind tenderly weaves through your hair once more, a melancholic symphony echoing the turbulence within. Fueled by a potent mix of sorrow and frustration, your heart clenches with a resolute desire to reclaim what’s rightfully yours. Your grip tightens around the reins, a silent vow etched in your clenched fists, urging Marshmallow to race faster, the earth stirs in a tumultuous dance beneath his thundering hooves.

The pen materializes on the horizon, and there, amidst the rhythmic ballet of wild horses, you spy Yoongi immersed in his labor. Urging Marshmallow to a thunderous gallop, you charge towards the pen. With an abrupt tug on the reins, the air fills with the gritty harmony of skidding hooves as Marshmallow halts, an abrupt punctuation that seizes Yoongi’s attention. Descending from Marshmallow, you plant your feet on the ground with a flourish, the dust settling around you like a curtain call.

“What’s wrong?” He queries, a flicker of concern lighting up his features, as your uncharacteristic entrance sends ripples of tension through the air.

“The damn stallion,” you seethe, your breaths punctuated with fury, “he’s run off with Mikrokosmos.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen in shock, but without hesitation, he declares, “I’ll help you search for her.” You nod in gratitude as he leads his brown horse out of the pen, and you guide Marshmallow to the stables, anticipation coursing through both of you.

Prepared and determined, you and Yoongi lead your horses by the reins out to the yard, a shared sense of urgency fueling your quest to find Mikrokosmos.

Yoongi gathers the reins in his hand and directs your focus to the task at hand, “We’ll start looking at the Eastern paddock, okay?” Just as the urgency builds, Jimin emerges from his house, adding an unexpected twist to the unfolding events. You shoot him a questioning look as he stands before you, curiosity and apprehension blending in your gaze.

“What are you up to?” Jimin questions, catching both you and Yoongi off guard. The unexpectedness of his inquiry leaves you standing there, dumbfounded, your shared silence reflecting the tension that lingers between you and Jimin.

“The wild stallion snatched Mikrokosmos last night; we’re going to search for her,” Yoongi explains, his voice filled with urgency, his movements swift as he places his foot in the stirrup and gracefully swings his body over the horse’s back. The gravity of the situation hangs heavy, and you can feel the collective determination to retrieve your horse cutting through the morning air.

“I can help,” Jimin offers, his voice carrying a light and airy tone that catches you off guard. You stare at him, momentarily questioning your senses—did he really just say that? The unexpected offer hangs in the air, and you’re left wondering what might be going on in his mind.

Yoongi and you both fixate on him, and Jimin responds with a soft chuckle, the contours of his chest subtly moving beneath his shirt.

“I can assist. That way, Yoongi can focus on his tasks,” he suggests, approaching Yoongi and motioning for him to dismount so they can swap positions. Yoongi glances at you, seeking approval for the change. Meanwhile, you continue to stare blankly at both Yoongi and Jimin. The situation feels oddly surreal—Jimin offering to help you search for your horse, especially considering the tense silence since the heated exchange at the gala. This ride might just turn out to be the most awkward one of your life.

“Sure,” Yoongi concedes, dismounting from the horse. He hands the reins to Jimin, who skillfully collects them in his hands. With a swift motion, Jimin places his boot in the stirrup and swings his body over the horse, mirroring Yoongi’s earlier move.

Silent as a shadow, you remain grounded, words held captive within the walls of your thoughts.

With a subtle tug on the reins, Jimin redirects the horse, casting a teasing glance your way, “Are you coming or what?”

Jimin’s playful remark snaps you back to the present, and without a second thought, you slip your foot into the stirrup, effortlessly swinging your leg over Marshmallow’s back.

You trail behind Jimin, bidding farewell to Yoongi, who lingers with a knowing smile. Silently cursing him for abandoning you in the company of Jimin, you brace for the imminent awkwardness. Despite the uncertainty, the urgency of finding Mikrokosmos eclipses any reservations—you’re grateful for any help that might lead to her return.

Jimin confidently guides his horse, setting the pace as you both return to your ranch. The eastern paddock looms ahead, where Jungkook and Jessi ardently mend the broken fence. Their curious gazes lock onto you, expecting Yoongi but finding Jimin at your side instead.

Venturing deeper into the forest, the towering trees cast a verdant embrace around you. Silence hangs heavy between you and Jimin, a palpable tension that begs to be shattered. It dawns on you that speaking up might be the only way to dispel this awkward atmosphere before it becomes a permanent fixture.

Amidst the rustling leaves and dappled sunlight, you finally muster the courage to break the awkward silence. “I’ve been meaning to say, I’m sincerely sorry about the gala. I hope my words didn’t cross a line with you or upset Deiji too much,” you confess, your gaze sweeping through the foliage in search of any sign of the elusive wild horses.

His laughter dances through the air, a warm melody amid the rustling leaves. “It’s fine. Did it feel good getting off your chest?”

A subtle blush graces your cheeks, and you admit, “It did. I’m still sorry, though. Sorry that your girlfriend had to hear that, and for pointing at her like that.”

You release a soft sigh, reminiscing about the regrettable way you conducted yourself.

He laughs again, the sound echoing like sweet melodies in your ears, yet the mystery behind his continuous laughter leaves you utterly perplexed.

“She did not like it,” he starts, weaving his words with the rustling leaves as you venture into uncharted territory beneath the expansive canopy of a towering, ancient tree.

“I deeply regret my words and actions,” you offer in earnest, the weight of remorse evident in your voice.

“It’s fine. We actually broke up,” his words hang in the air, a revelation that jolts you, and you swivel your head towards him so swiftly you fear a case of emotional whiplash.

Your words tumble out rapidly, laced with uncertainty, as you press him for answers, “You broke up? Why?” The shifting dynamics between you two send your heart racing, and the reins in your sweaty palms seem to tighten with anticipation.

In a hushed tone, he reveals, “She was tired of being compared to you.”

His voice carries a soft, steady cadence, devoid of anger, as though he’s entrusted you with a profound secret. He turns to face you, a gentle smile playing on his lips, revealing his slightly crooked teeth. His eyes disappear behind lowered eyelids as he adds, “She isn’t you.”

A suspended moment, as if time itself hesitates, your heart momentarily halts its rhythmic dance within your chest. Breath catches, and for a beat, you’re left in breathless suspension—did he truly utter those words? The weight of his revelation seeps into your weary frame, and a blossoming warmth unfurls within your chest. The air lightens, the sun bestows its gentle touch on your skin, and you find yourself smiling at him, words caught in the surge of emotions.

“I also had a conversation with Yoongi,” he reveals, and you find yourself gaping in astonishment. The horses have settled into a leisurely walk, a welcome reprieve as you grapple with the influx of information, making it nearly impossible to focus on the ride.

“He mentioned the kiss,” he confesses, and you detect a glimmer of pain in his eyes. Yet, it doesn’t weigh as heavily as it once did; there’s a newfound lightness in his demeanor as he continues, “Yoongi explained that he’s gay, and that the kiss was merely a friendly gesture.”

You nod, each word he utters peeling away layers of weight from your shoulders. It’s precisely the message you’ve been struggling to convey all along. However, you hesitated to betray Yoongi’s confidence by revealing it. Yet, confessing to Hoseok about Yoongi’s feelings for him seemed to work wonders, paving the way for their upcoming date.

“That’s what I desperately wanted to convey that day, you know... but you slammed the door shut in my face,” you confess, a tinge of sorrow sweeping over your heart at the memory of the pain etched on Jimin’s face that day. While you comprehend the source of his hurt and anger, the lingering confusion remains about why he refused to engage in conversation or hear your side of the story.

“I’m sorry. I was just so hurt at the time. Later, when I noticed how close you were to Yoongi, I jumped to conclusions and assumed you were dating him,” he chuckles, the sound carrying a tinge of sadness as he reminisces about the past. “Fortunately, he clarified things for me, assuring me that you two are just friends and always have been.”

“That’s right. We’re just best friends. Honestly, he’s like the annoying brother I never asked for,” you chuckle, a weight lifting off your shoulders. Yet, an indescribable sensation begins to bloom within your chest, a mix of warmth and tingles, leaving you intrigued by its unfamiliar presence.

“I’m so sorry. I really should have talked to you and listened. I’m so sorry.” As Jimin utters his apology, his voice echoes with remorse, a melody of regret that resonates within you. It’s a bittersweet symphony, soothing to finally hear, yet you ponder the missed opportunities for dialogue that could have averted the storm unleashed by this stupid mistake and now your recent outburst. The apology, though overdue, forms a bridge between you, and you find solace in the fact that, at last, you stand on the same side of understanding.

“I had hoped for you to listen back then as well. But, let’s leave the echoes of the past behind, shall we?” Your suggestion carries the weight of anticipation, a sense of hopeful exploration into uncharted territories. He nods in agreement, yet a palpable silence, thick with the unsaid, envelops you both. The journey continues in quietude, but within that stillness, you sense the unspoken words echoing in the lingering gaze of his brown eyes, a silent conversation that paints the canvas of possibility.

As twilight descends and the hours in the saddle accumulate, your fatigue is etched into the soreness of your seat. The weariness must surely weigh on Jimin too, his body silently protesting the prolonged ride. Amidst the encroaching darkness, Mikrokosmos remains elusive, a mystery yet to unfold, and the elusive presence of the wild horses eludes your diligent search.

Frustration settles over you like a heavy cloak, and an audible sigh escapes your lips, carrying the weight of your disappointment. Just as the gloom threatens to deepen, a rebellious rumble emanates from your stomach, capturing Jimin’s attention and coaxing a playful laugh from him.

“Hungry?” His question, a beacon of concern, draws a nod from you, and you respond by absently rubbing your stomach as if coaxing it to silence the persistent growls of hunger.

As the undeniable pangs of hunger echo through your stomach, you admit with a rueful tone, “I forgot to eat before we left,” the regret audible in your voice.

In a gentle yet scolding tone, he remarks, “That’s not good, you know. It’s important to eat.” Leaning towards you, he suggests, “I think we should call it a day and head back. It’s getting late anyway.”

As you nod, a flicker of disappointment crosses your face. The elusive search for Mikrokosmos remains unfulfilled today. Yet, a spark of hope ignites within you as you remind yourself, there’s always tomorrow, right?

“Then you can get something to eat, a good night’s sleep and then I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we can continue the search?” His soft smile and warm, glowing brown eyes captivate you, quickening your heartbeat. With a hopeful nod, you sense something stirring deep within your stomach — a sensation that goes beyond hunger, something akin to the birth of hope.

The rhythmic tapping on your door pulls you from slumber, and you respond with a drowsy yet receptive, “Yes?”

You emit a groan of protest as the door inches open, revealing a fully alert Jimin. Clad in a snug white tee, its slight transparency inadvertently exposing the soft hue of his pink nipples, you chide yourself for letting your gaze linger. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you note his dark blue jeans, strategically torn at the knees, leaving you curious if it’s a deliberate fashion choice or a result of untamed adventures. His hands nonchalantly find refuge in his pockets, drawing your attention to the pronounced veins that traverse his arms, subtly visible in the soft light of dawn.

As you rise from your bed, a sudden awareness floods your mind, recalling the choice of your sleepwear—a camisole paired with shorts that might be deemed too short for comfort. Hastily, you reach for the duvet, intending to conceal a portion of your body, only to inadvertently accentuate the contours of your chest. The fabric presses against your breasts, and you can’t help but notice the subtle shift in his gaze, his eyes lingering on the unintended display of cleavage.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he chuckles, advancing deeper into your room. His gaze sweeps across the array of your personal belongings, lingering on the easel in the corner adorned with a painting bursting with vibrant hues— a stark contrast to your previous, darker works. Despite your eye roll, you pull yourself out of bed, allowing the duvet to cascade from your body. In that moment, you sense his eyes tracing every contour of your nearly naked form.

“Just a minute,” you reply, swiftly retrieving a t-shirt and pants from your closet, tossing them onto the bed. Jimin’s gaze lingers on you, a subtle intensity that sets your hair on fire, the air thick with an indescribable energy. “Mind if I take a shower first?” you ask, breaking the charged silence.

He chuckles, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “No time for that. Besides, you already smell nice.” His playful demeanor adds a spark to the moment, making you smile in spite of the urgency.

A blush tints your cheeks. Did he just say you smell nice? You did take a bath yesterday after dinner, but you’re not entirely convinced you actually smell nice. Nevertheless, he’s spot on about time slipping away – you can’t afford to lose daylight like you did yesterday.

“Fine,” you hiss, the word escaping through a playful smirk. Chuckling softly, you grab your clothes from the bed and dash out of your room, disappearing into the bathroom.

Returning to your bedroom, you discover Jimin holding a photograph featuring the three of you. His smile reflects the captured moment as you take the frame from his hand. “I found it a few weeks ago. Isn’t it just adorable?” The warmth of nostalgia floods the room, threading through the air as the image triggers shared memories.

A smile graces your face as you gaze at the photograph capturing the innocence of childhood, featuring you, your sister, and Jimin at the tender age of eight. Bright, childish smiles illuminate the image, with chubby cheeks and round faces. You and your sister playfully squish Jimin in the middle, a moment frozen in time that radiates cuteness. Reflecting on it, you marvel at the transformation; once adorable, Jimin now exudes a different allure, an almost dangerous charisma, akin to the allure of sin.

“It was good times,” nostalgia colors his words as a warm smile graces Jimin’s lips. Without a word, he walks past you, hand reaching out to intertwine with yours, a gentle pull guiding you downstairs to the kitchen. In that touch, echoes of good times and cherished memories bridge the gap between past and present.

“Here you go,” Ha-rin offers you a bundle of carefully prepared food, a thoughtful gesture that instantly makes you feel cared for. Simultaneously, Jimin secures water bottles, gearing up for the day’s journey. The barn becomes a hub of activity as his sleek black horse stands poised, laden with sleeping mats and saddlebags filled with provisions. The air buzzes with anticipation as you prepare for the adventure ahead.

“You’re really prepared,” amused by the thorough preparations, you share a light chuckle while heading into the stable to retrieve Marshmallow, your trusted companion for the impending journey.

“Yeah, that way, if we still don’t find her, we can just sleep out there instead of having to ride all the way back and start over again tomorrow.” His practical explanation resonates with you as you prepare Marshmallow, donning him with a bridle and securing the saddle. Anticipating the possibility of an extended search, you fasten saddlebags, graciously accepting the additional supplies from Jimin, ensuring you’re well-equipped for the journey ahead.

His strategic approach resonates, and you nod in agreement, a surge of determination coursing through you as you gear up for the mission to locate Mikrokosmos.

Guiding Marshmallow from the stable into the morning sunlight, you revel in the warmth that has lingered for months. With reins in hand, boots in the stirrups, and a shared determination with Jimin, you swing into the saddle, urging your horses into a brisk trot toward the Eastern paddock.

The silence becomes a tangible presence, weaving an awkward tapestry around you. Armed with the knowledge of Jimin’s recent breakup, a peculiar tension lingers. He’s now within reach, available, and your desire for him simmers beneath the surface. The challenge lies in navigating this uncharted territory, uncertain of how to bridge the gap between longing and action.

After a few hours in the saddle, you take a well-deserved break, replenishing your energy with a quick snack and a sip of water. The brief pause allows you to catch your breath, fortifying yourself before embarking on the ongoing quest to find Mikrokosmos.

Between bites of the delicious sandwiches Ha-rin crafted for you, you cast a concerned glance at Jimin.

“Are you okay?” Your attention focuses, especially on his leg, as you inquire about his well-being.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassures you, as though casually dismissing the likely pain he’s enduring.

“I know that long rides can strain your leg, and I don’t want you to push yourself too hard,” you express with concern, your voice softening. The last thing you want is for him to endure any pain because of you.

“It’s okay,” despite his soft smile and dismissal, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s in pain. It reflects in the furrow of his forehead and the way he favors his left leg, dragging his right leg more than usual. Stubborn, you think, as you let him have his way, but deep down, you know he’s masking the discomfort.

As you take a sip of water, you gently probe, “I remember you telling me about your accident, but what was it like for you afterward?”

With a gentle smile, he begins, “As I told you earlier, I underwent surgery after the accident. It lasted for hours, leaving me with numerous scars on my hip. I despise them; they keep reminding me of that day,” his voice resonates with a mix of sadness and lingering anger. “It happened when I was alone, unable to move or feel my legs. My foot was trapped in the stirrup, the horse struggling to rise immediately after the fall.”

Empathy wells up within you as he recounts the harrowing details. It sounds truly dreadful. Reflecting on the first time he mentioned the incident, you realize he held back so many of these distressing details.

As he exhales, a poignant mixture of sadness and defeat tinges his voice. “Finally, the horse got up and ran off, presumably back home. A few hours later, Jungkook found me and took me to the hospital,” he shares, his recollection carrying the weight of a painful memory.

“Learning to walk again was also pretty hard. But I managed,” he confides, a resilient smile lighting up his eyes. In that moment, you find yourself smiling back, realizing the depth of his strength. Despite the pain, he’s willingly embarking on this quest with you—a testament to the extraordinary kindness that defines this man. He is truly too kind for his own good.

“I’m so sorry,” you utter, a genuine ache in your voice, yearning to alleviate even a fraction of the pain etched across his features.

“It’s life, I guess,” he murmurs with a touch of vulnerability, his shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug as he concludes his sandwich, deftly stowing away the remnants into the saddlebags.

“Ready to continue?” He inquires, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. Following suit, you tidy up, brushing away the dirt from your clothes. Grabbing the reins of Marshmallow, you mount him once more. With the sky shifting from orange to purple in the approaching dusk, the urgency propels you to search fervently for Mikrokosmos.

You’re hit with a wave of disappointment as the realization sinks in that Mikrokosmos won’t be found today either. Frustration knots in your stomach, and a heavy sigh escapes, echoing your dejected feelings.

“We will continue tomorrow,” under the star-studded sky, Jimin’s comforting words envelop you like a gentle embrace. The vast expanse of the open land, with trees and mountains on the horizon, hints at the distance you’ve covered—perhaps even farther than the previous day. Tomorrow holds the promise of a new search, a fresh chance to reunite with Mikrokosmos.

“Fine.”

Resigned, you dismount Marshmallow, carefully removing his bridle and saddle, placing them on the ground with a sense of weary determination. Jimin mirrors your actions with his own horse, unfurling sleeping mats that create a makeshift bed beneath the starlit sky. Blankets join the ensemble, and side by side, you both recline, gazing upward. The stars, like distant diamonds, twinkle in the vast canvas of the night sky, creating a breathtaking image of beauty.

As you lay there, surrounded by the gentle rustling of grass and the fragrant whispers of wildflowers, a part of you can’t help but believe that this is the stuff dreams are made of. The soft earth cradles you, a natural mattress beneath the vast expanse of the cosmos, each star above a guardian in the nocturnal symphony orchestrating your descent into slumber.

The night breeze plays a gentle melody around you, and you sense Jimin shifting beside you. Your eyelids flutter open, and you gracefully turn your head to meet his presence in the tranquil darkness.

“You know that brother’s talk…” in the hushed embrace of the nocturnal wilderness, Jimin’s voice resonates like a sacred incantation. He breaks the silence with a low, calm tone, his words weaving through the night’s symphony of your shared breaths, distant crickets, and the flickering dance of fireflies.

His words, like an unexpected gust of wind through the serene night, jolt you awake. Tension grips your body, and a nervous gulp escapes your throat, shattering the fragile cocoon of impending sleep.

His words cut through the tranquil night, each syllable heavy with the weight of his vulnerability. In the dimness, his eyes lock onto yours, revealing a hurt that lingers like a shadow, haunting the depths of his gaze. “It really hurt... seeing you with Jungkook,” he confesses, laying bare the ache that still throbs within him.

As your heart sways with remorse, your hand moves instinctively, bridging the gap between you and Jimin. Gently, your fingers trace the contours of his cheek, a silent apology etched in the tender gesture. “I’m so sorry. Both that it happened and that you had to see it,” your words hang in the night air, a delicate offering of regret that seeks solace in the quiet.

Jimin’s hand intertwines with yours, and his touch becomes a comforting anchor in the obsidian night. “It’s okay. Stuff happens. I just like you so much, it made me really angry,” his words, a vulnerable confession, echoing beneath the starlit canopy.

“I’m sorry. I really like you too. And I didn’t know he was your brother at that time, I’m sorry.” The apology lingers in the night air as you gravitate closer to Jimin. His breath, a gentle caress, plays on your skin. Proximity tightens the space between you until your noses almost touch. A symphony of rapid heartbeats reverberates in the silence.

An electric charge courses through you as Jimin cups your cheek, his gaze penetrating into the depths of your soul, intertwining two fates under the starlit embrace.

A subdued moan escapes your lips as his touch fans the flames within, setting ablaze the desires you’ve long suppressed. It��s that magnetic pull, the sensation lingering each time Jimin’s presence envelops you, a denial unraveling at last. The tension snaps, akin to a taut elastic band reaching its limit. Eternity seems to pass as you lock eyes with him, noses grazing. Inevitably, his plush, inviting lips find yours. Your hands eagerly cup his cheeks, drawing him closer, intensifying the kiss—a convergence of longing and surrender, an electric union that transcends mere touch.

His lips, plush and tender, evoke the sensation of cotton candy—irresistible, almost ethereal.

In this stolen moment, the kiss becomes an endless dance, a rhythmic exchange that could easily stretch into eternity. A dormant ember within you, quiet for far too many moments, now kindles to life. The realization floods your senses, a surge of awareness that travels down to where desire ignites. Your panties dampen, awakening the passion swirling between you and Jimin.

Jimin expertly rolls you over, maintaining the unbroken connection of your lips. As he gracefully assumes the position above, a tantalizing dance ensues. The subtle pressure of his hips against your crotch sends shivers through your being. You can feel his erect cock, concealed beneath denim, pressing fervently against you. In a harmonious rhythm, he grinds down, a symphony of need escaping him, as he moans into your mouth.

You gasp for breath, the air thick with lust, your eyes locking onto Jimin’s, both sets heavy-lidded and pupils dilated, mirroring the intoxication that courses through your veins. It’s a heady sensation, a collision of longing and desire that feels almost surreal but undeniably right. Your fingers find his cheeks once more, a possessive urgency guiding your movements as you draw him down towards you. As your lips meet in a fervent kiss, the hunger between you intensifies, a voracious yearning that’s been building for months. Each brush of your lips against his is a moment suspended in time, where your need is laid bare, and the surreal truth of it all leaves you breathless – a fantasy finally materializing into reality.

Jimin gently pulls away, a glistening strand of saliva lingering between your parted lips like an invisible tether, a tangible testament to the magnetic force pulling you both back. His breath hitches, a raw intensity in his eyes as he utters, “Fuck. I want you so bad.”

He exhales, a tangible wave of frustration emanating from him as he plunges back into another searing kiss. His tongue, a silent plea, prods at the barrier of your lips, and in a breathless agreement, you grant him entry. Tongues entwined, a passionate dance ensues, heightened by the rhythmic grind of your core against his. The ache of desire consumes you, a primal need that has been dormant for what feels like an eternity. It’s a shared hunger, an unspoken acknowledgment of mutual longing, as if both of you are starved for each other’s touch.

His hands travel down, tracing the contours of your stomach beneath the fabric of your shirt. A soft, involuntary giggle escapes your lips, betraying the ticklish sensation that dances across your skin. His touch ventures further, slipping beneath the shirt, and you’re met with a surge of anticipation. The warmth of his palms cups your breasts, the delicate barrier of the bra heightening the sensory encounter. A moan escapes into the heated exchange of the kiss, the responsive melody to his skilled touch, as your nipples respond, hardening within the confines of your bra.

You reluctantly part, the air charged with desire, and you confess breathlessly, “I want you so bad too, Jimin.”

Your fingers glide along the contours of his snug shirt, tracing the rhythmic dance of his abdominal muscles beneath the fabric. The aftermath of your prolonged kisses paints his lips a tantalizing shade of red. His tousled, golden locks only add to the captivating disarray of his appearance, a visual symphony that threatens to engulf your senses. Rising with a newfound determination, you assertively push him away, breaking the intoxicating proximity. “I need that shirt off,” you declare, a hunger lingering in your eyes, aching to explore the canvas beneath.

You eagerly tug at his shirt, a silent invitation that he willingly accepts, lifting his arms in a seamless motion to unveil his honey-colored, velvety skin. As your hand grazes over his pectorals, the rhythmic pulse beneath your fingertips resonates with the accelerated beat of his heart—mirroring the anticipation that courses through your own veins. Your gaze traces a tantalizing descent, capturing the sculpted landscape of his face, collarbones, and the inviting expanse of his stomach, where a subtle trail of brown hair beckons you further. The air is charged with desire as your fingers deftly find his belt, unbuckling it, each deliberate motion a step closer to unraveling his dick hiding in his pants.

A throaty moan escapes him, a vulnerable symphony of desire, as you expertly undo his belt. Returning to him, your lips meet in a kiss, the touch soft and tender, like an intimate promise whispered between you two. In the gentle exchange, he tastes like a blend of love and flowers, a heady combination that lingers in the air. Brimming with anticipation, your hands deftly navigate the delicate task of unbuttoning and pulling down his pants, a challenging feat in the confined space of your current sitting position.

Your hand boldly cups his cock, the fabric of his underwear the only barrier between your skin and the pulsating dick beneath. A soft hiss escapes his lips, a symphony of pleasure and anticipation, as you sense the subtle twitch, a physical manifestation of the intensity building between you. The desperate yearning within you intensifies, aching for him with every heartbeat, and as you explore the contours of his cock, the undeniable thickness in your grasp fuels the flames of desire, leaving you breathless with need.

Breaking away from the intoxicating exchange of kisses, you lock eyes with his nearly obsidian orbs, the depth of his gaze holding a universe of unspoken desires.

“Can I touch you, Jimin?” you inquire, the words charged with both vulnerability and a raw, palpable need.

His teeth capture his bottom lip, a silent struggle playing out as he releases a frustrated exhale. Finally, with a resolute nod, “Fuck, yeah.”

He raises his hips in anticipation, granting you the freedom to skillfully peel away both his pants and underwear, leaving them discarded somewhere behind you in a forgotten tangle. In this suspended moment, you revel in the sight of him, completely exposed in all his naked glory—an embodiment of your deepest, most intimate fantasies. His beauty surpasses even the vivid images painted by your most explicit dreams. With unabashed admiration, your eyes roam over his form, settling on the scars that grace his hips, perilously close to his crotch. A particularly long one commands attention, stretching from the pinnacle of his hip and tracing a courageous journey downward, almost reaching his knee. Your fingers delicately follow the path of this scar, a silent tribute to the tales etched into his skin.

As your touch navigates the landscape of his scars, you witness the subtle interplay of tension and release in his body, a testament to the vulnerability that accompanies such intimate revelations. His cock responds with a telltale twitch, betraying the electric charge that courses through him in response to your every caress.

Among the prominent, sprawling scar that graces his hip, you notice a constellation of smaller, shorter scars, each telling its own story. With a delicate touch, your fingertips embark on a tender exploration, tracing the intricate map of his history etched into his skin.

Meanwhile, his eyes remain hooded, a veil of pleasure shrouding them, while his head arches backward, supported by his hands resting behind him. The cadence of his breath is a slow, deliberate rhythm, accentuating the intimate atmosphere that envelops you both. His teeth find refuge in his bottom lip once more, a silent testament to the waves of sensation cascading through him at your every touch.

“My scars are ugly, don’t look at them,” he confesses, his voice carrying a weight of vulnerability, as if he bears the weight of shame. The realization hits you like a wave—perhaps no one has ever taken the time to remind him that, even adorned with scars, he is undeniably beautiful. Gazing into his eyes, you speak with a gentle resolve, “You are beautiful, and so are your scars.”

With tender determination, your fingers resume their exploration, tracing the intricate paths of his scars. The touch is a reassurance, a gentle affirmation of his worth, and as your fingertips dance along the imprints of his past, a ripple of shivers courses through him. In response, an involuntary twitch emanates from his cock between his legs.

He dismisses your words with a subtle shake of his head, skepticism clouding his expression, but you’re determined to rewrite the narrative etched into his self-perception. He needs to understand the depth of his beauty and uniqueness. Your fingers resume their tender dance, tracing teasingly along the ridges of his scars, each touch carrying the weight of your conviction. “These scars,” you affirm, “they tell your story, a story of resilience and strength. And, my god, they are beautiful, just like you.”

The words hang in the air, a testament to your unwavering belief in the profound beauty etched into the very fabric of his being.

Witnessing the softening of his gaze, a solitary tear breaking free from the confines of his eyes, you seize the poignant moment to plunge back into a kiss with his lips—soft and plush, like a velvet haven. It’s a moment that transcends time, and in those stolen seconds, you realize you could lose yourself in the artistry of his lips for an eternity.

Heaving with the weight of shared intimacy, his breaths resonate with depth and intensity. As he withdraws, the shadows of his eyes glisten with unshed tears in the night. With a voice that trembles with sincerity, he utters, “Thank you,” a phrase that echoes with layers of gratitude and vulnerability.

Gazing into his eyes, you observe a vulnerability that renders him utterly exposed, laid bare before you. In the depth of his gaze, a profound mixture of emotions surfaces, the hues of desire and longing mingling with the rich brown of his eyes. Embracing him, you pull him into the sanctuary of a hug, your lips brushing against his ear as you murmur, “I’ll keep telling you forever, because I feel like you need to hear it.”

Gently trailing your hand down the terrain of his stomach, your fingertips navigate the uncharted territory until they encounter his neglected cock. The moment your touch cradles him, a guttural groan, steeped in the heady brew of desire, escapes him, echoing in the charged air around you. Your fingers embark on a careful exploration, appreciating the girth and thickness of his dick, veins almost popping out of the poor thing. The flushed redness of the head and a delicate sheen of precum only intensify the allure. Licking your lips in anticipation, you lower yourself. Your lips encircle the engorged head, and in response, a deep, primal moan reverberates from him, resonating with the harmonious dance between pleasure and need that binds you together.

Reclining amidst the soft embrace of grass and wildflowers, you have somehow trailed off your sleeping mats, but you don’t care. Your tongue embarks on an intricate exploration, tracing a sinuous path along his cock, each lick an artful dance that circles around him with an unspoken promise of ecstasy. You’re drooling, and your saliva runs down your cheeks, down his cock and down to his balls.

His dick fills your mouth with a perfect fullness, a tangible overflow of desire. The parts that don’t fit in your mouth are skillfully tended to by your left hand, ensuring no inch of him is left untouched. His legs, betraying the intensity of the sensations, exhibit a subtle yet enticing twitch as you move rhythmically, a symphony of pleasure in every rise and fall.

Your devoted attention centers on his frenulum, a delicate dance of your tongue that elicits the softest, most melodic moan you’ve ever been privy to. The sound, a harmonious melody that resonates like a sweet lullaby, fuels your determination to continue this enraptured dance, even as your eyes threaten to mist with water. The need for air tugs at the edge of your consciousness, yet the ethereal music of his moans compels you to keep sucking.

The air is punctuated by squelching sounds, an audible testament to the fervor with which you suck him, utilizing every ounce of your skill. His hand, a gentle guide, finds solace in the maze of your hair, fingers intertwining as you diligently navigate the rhythmic ascent and descent along his pulsating dick. Sensing the subtle tension beneath your touch, you discern the hastened cadence of his breath, a telltale sign that he might be close.

You surface from the intoxicating depths of his crotch, parting from his cock to catch a breath of much-needed air. In that fleeting moment, as your eyes lock with his, you’re ensnared by the sinful intensity of his gaze. It’s a look so profoundly wicked, so enticingly feral, that you sense the very essence of your being might either melt into a puddle or evaporate into the charged air.

Pooling a teasing amount of saliva in your mouth, you audaciously release it onto his dick, eliciting a surprised yet lustful chuckle from him. As your mouth envelops him once more, you revel in the tangible connection, savoring the unique sensation he offers. Yet, the sensation also sparks a cascade of anticipatory thoughts, your mind drifting to what it will feel like with his cock deep inside your pussy, and you feel it clench pathetically around nothing. Oh, god, you’re so wet already, it’s like a waterslide in your panties.

In rhythmic harmony with your measured breaths through flared nostrils, you descend along the full length of his dick. The audible moans that escape him blend with the sensation of his fingers tensing in your hair, creating a symphony of pleasure. Gradually, you sense him responding, pushing up into the warmth of your mouth with a deliberate slowness, each controlled thrust an exquisite dance. You relax your jaw and let him thrust into your warm walls. It’s slow and tender, like he’s very mindful not to hurt you.

In a breathless maneuver, you inhale deeply, creating a vacuum of anticipation as you envelop him in the suction of your mouth. A subtle, resonant hum reverberates against his pulsating dick, a seductive melody that prompts a tantalizing twitch within him. His fingers assertively tug at your hair, commanding a release that you give in to. With a sensation-laden pop, you surface from his cock, leaving an electrifying echo of desire lingering in the charged air.

“It’s so fucking good. But you have to stop. I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he pants, his voice a raw fusion of vulnerability and urgent need. As he leans up, the desperation in his tone intensifies, “I want to come inside you.”

You might as well be surrendering to the abyss, for the power this man holds over you is staggering. The softness in his eyes is laced with an intoxicating lust, and the sly smirk he graces you with sends an electric current straight to your pussy. The dampness between your thighs becomes an undeniable testament to the effect he has on you, as his mere expression ignites a storm of arousal, leaving you helplessly entrapped in the spell he effortlessly casts.

With a firm yet gentle pull, he elevates you into a seated position, an unspoken desire lingering in the air. Urgently, he tugs at your shirt, mirroring the unveiling you orchestrated for him. As the fabric succumbs to gravity, revealing your form, he takes a moment to appreciate the canvas before him. His fingers trace a tantalizing path from your collarbones, across the curve of your breasts, and down to the waistband of your pants. Eyes locked with yours, he skillfully unzips your trousers, teasingly patting your ass before lifting them and guiding the denim down your legs.

The night air caresses your bare skin, its touch not a chill, but a soothing embrace. Despite the darkness that cloaks the surroundings, the lingering warmth from the day creates an intimate ambiance, allowing the freedom of being naked outside to feel not only acceptable but almost cocooned in a sensual comfort.

“Babe,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping between your open legs, a single finger delicately tracing the contours of your pussy, “You’re soaked.”

You bite down on your lip, a flutter of lust coursing through you, as his finger skims the exterior of your panties, causing them to uncomfortably adhere to the contours of your folds. The urgency intensifies, a palpable desire radiating from your core, a silent plea echoing in your mind—you need them off, and you need it now.

“No need to silence yourself; it’s just us beneath the open sky,” he gently reminds you. With his reassuring words, you liberate your teeth from the captivity of your lips, allowing the unabashed moans of pleasure to cascade freely from your mouth, blending with the nocturnal symphony surrounding the two of you.

His fingers dance over your clit through the fabric of your panties, coaxing a guttural groan from the depths of your stomach. The subtle tremor of your thighs betrays the exquisite intensity of the sensation, a response that echoes through the sultry night air like a secret shared only between you two.

A smug smirk graces his lips, a silent promise of the pleasures yet to unfold, as his hands maneuver deftly up and behind your back, skillfully releasing the constraints of your bra. It cascades down to your lap, unveiling your liberated tits that eagerly spring forth. His hands, warm and purposeful, eagerly grope the newly revealed treasures, gently massaging your boobs.

Diving in with hunger, he presses kisses atop them, an unhurried descent leading him further down and to the left. His plush lips encircle a pert nipple, initiating a sensory dance that sends ripples of ecstasy through you.

“Fuck,” escapes your lips in a resonant moan, a symphony of pleasure commencing as he avidly sucks at one nipple while his fingers skillfully engage with the other. The sensation is beyond exquisite, a tidal wave of arousal surging through you. A fleeting realization of your panties still sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Yet, the relentless attention he bestows upon your breasts holds you captive, rendering you powerless to do anything but surrender to the intoxicating pleasure.

And take it you do, as his tongue deftly laps at your nipple, each stroke a rhythmic dance that occasionally escalates into a teasing bite, sending electric sparks that illuminate your vision with stars. Simultaneously, his fingers tug at the other nipple, orchestrating a symphony of pleasure that resonates through your body. As his exploration continues, you feel the warmth of his saliva tracing a tantalizing path down your breasts, descending over your stomach like a sensual cascade. The molten trail reaches the brink of your panties, a frustrating barrier to the carnal desire that courses through you.

With a tantalizing pop, he releases your left nipple, ascending to your mouth for a kiss that’s both needy and all-consuming, as if he can’t satiate his hunger for you. The fervor in his lips translates into an intense connection, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Descending once again, his focus shifts to the other nipple, where he wraps his lips around it, initiating a dance of sucking and biting that elicits unrestrained moans from deep within you. Simultaneously, his fingers weave an intricate symphony on the previous touched nipple, propelling you into a realm of uncharted pleasure. The crescendo builds, and you moan unabashedly, teetering on the edge of an orgasm, the anticipation of release hanging in the charged air.

He persists in his relentless assault, biting and pulling with an intensity that coils a spring deep within your stomach. As the tension reaches its zenith, the spring snaps, unleashing a torrent of arousal that surges through you, adhering to your panties in a sticky testament to the powerful release. The realization hits like a thunderbolt – you just came without the direct touch on your clit. The sheer amazement washes over you, compounded by the rhythmic pants for air, transforming the aftermath into a heady cocktail of astonishment and unbridled ecstasy.

He relinquishes his hold on your breasts, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as if savoring a delectable feast. With a hungry gaze, he looks at you, and you can almost feel the intensity of his desire – as if he’s contemplating devouring you whole.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, a prelude to a ravenous declaration, “I want to taste your pussy too.” The words hang in the air, charged with a primal hunger that echoes the undeniable craving between you.

Your pussy continues to pulsate, a rhythmic echo of the recent orgasm, its clenching sensation persisting even in the absence of direct touch. Biting your lip, you nod your head in silent agreement. The desire intensifies, a relentless ache for the magic of his lips and the dance of his tongue on your pussy.

His fingers trace a tantalizing path to your hips, teasingly tugging at the edge of your panties. With deliberate intent, he pulls them off, a gentle yet purposeful maneuver that leaves your arousal adhering to the fabric, forming a glistening string of liquid in its wake.

His gaze lowers between your legs, and he licks his lips with a deliberate slowness, an anticipation building with every inch he descends towards the place you ache for his touch. But just before he immerses himself in your pussy, he looks up, locking eyes with you. In that fleeting moment, he bestows upon you the softest look, so angelic and innocent, creating a deceptive contrast to the sinful delights you know he’s about to unleash upon you.

As the first tantalizing touch of his tongue graces your folds, an instantaneous moan escapes your lips, and a kaleidoscope of stars seems to burst behind your closed eyelids. His tongue skillfully dances across your lips, a deliberate sweep that not only dissipates the lingering echoes of the previous orgasm but also revels in the unique taste of your essence.

His tongue, a sinful indulgence, possesses a length that seems to explore the depths of your walls with deliberate precision. The unhurried entrance sends shivers through your core, each languid movement a seductive dance that unfurls the layers of pleasure.

He fervently licks at your folds, savoring every essence, his tongue a relentless tide that laps up the intoxicating cascade of your juices. As you lean back on your arms, the anticipation of a new orgasm steadily builds within the depths of your stomach. Suddenly, a finger makes contact with your clit, and a moan of desire escapes your lips. Panting and gasping, your naked chest rises and falls above him, caught in the rhythm of a primal dance, as he devours you with the hunger of a man starved.

His skillful touch initiates a hypnotic dance, tracing sensuous circles around your clit.

“Fuck, Jimin, I’m—” you begin to say amidst breathy pants, and suddenly, a new sensation courses down your ass. The realization hits— it’s one of his slickened fingers, probing at the hole there.

Gradually, he eases his finger inside, and an involuntary clenching reaction coupled with erratic breaths engulf you. Thoughts scatter, the intensity of this entirely new sensation overwhelming your senses. It’s foreign, yet undeniably not unpleasant; in fact, it’s oddly good, a revelation that surprises you. As his finger delves a bit deeper, you feel the subtle stretch, accompanied by a moan that weaves into the midnight air.

“You said I should stick it up my ass. How does it feel with my finger up yours?” he taunts, his voice laced with a provocative edge that sends a shiver down your spine. As you clench around his invading finger, a surge of arousal releases a trickle of liquid from your pussy. The sensation is overwhelming, igniting a primal heat that consumes you entirely. Fuck, why is this so hot?

With deliberate tenderness, he eases his finger into your hole, maintaining a steady rhythm that tantalizingly grazes the threshold of previous depths. The sensation is nothing short of exquisite, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through every fiber of your being. But as quickly as the euphoria engulfs you, he withdraws his finger, leaving you to groan in a poignant emptiness that echoes through the night air.

He lifts his head, locking eyes with you, his gaze penetrating the depths of your blown-out eyes. “You liked that, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that reverberates with a potent mixture of satisfaction and desire. The intensity of his stare ignites a fire within you, each word laden with the weight of pleasure and unspoken longing.

You bite your lips, a fleeting moment of hesitation passing through your mind as you contemplate the truth. But the honesty between you is palpable, a silent understanding that binds you together in this intimate moment. “I did,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of undeniable desire, a raw admission that lays bare the depths of your longing.

“That’s good to know,” he chuckles, the sound reverberating through the night like a whispered promise. With a hunger that borders on desperation, he kisses you again, his lips consuming yours in a full embrace that tastes of your essence. It’s a kiss that’s wet and sloppy, needy and unapologetic, yet every sensation only serves to deepen the flames between you. And as you savor the taste of his lips against yours, you’re reminded of the intoxicating allure that drew you to him in the first place, igniting a flame that burns brighter with each passing moment.

He returns to your pussy with a hunger that borders on obsession, his lips eagerly tasting every inch of you while his skilled fingers tease your clit with a maddening precision. His tongue, devilishly good, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, compelling you to arch your back and press your core deeper into his face. The sight of his glistening cheeks, adorned with your essence, ignites a primal urge within you, a visceral desire to consume and be consumed in return. With his head between your legs, he becomes a vision of untamed passion, his devotion to your pleasure evident in every caress and every lingering kiss.

With the skill of a master, he works his fingers over your clit in a mesmerizing dance, tracing circles that send sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins. His touch is both gentle and assertive, at times pulling on your sensitive nub, eliciting a chorus of moans that echo in the heated air around you. Each movement sets your body ablaze with a searing intensity, every sensation heightening your arousal until you feel like you’re consumed by a blazing inferno of desire.

As he continues his relentless assault on your senses, you feel the coil of desire winding tighter and tighter, on the verge of unraveling at any moment. The dual sensation of his sucking at your clit while his finger expertly rubs it pushes you over the edge, and with a primal cry, the coil inside you finally snaps.

A powerful wave of liquid cascades over his face, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you. Gasping for air, your vision momentarily blurs, spots dancing before your eyes as the intensity of the moment washes over you. You feel the liquid trickling down your folds, leaving a trail of evidence on the grass or flowers beneath you.

As Jimin continues to lick and coax you through the euphoric waves of your orgasm, you ride out the intense sensations until you gently tug on his blonde hair, a silent signal that it’s becoming too much to bear. Sensing your need, he obediently returns, his lips meeting yours in a modest kiss that speaks volumes of his reverence for you.

“You’re so hot, you know that?” he murmurs against your lips, his words laced with genuine admiration and a hint of awe, leaving you with a lingering warmth.

For some inexplicable reason, a blush graces your cheeks, a subtle yet undeniable testament to the torrent of emotions swirling within you. It’s a curious juxtaposition, considering the uninhibited pleasures you’ve shared thus far. Yet, amidst the intoxicating haze of desire, there’s a deeper sensation stirring within you—a profound sense of being utterly and unequivocally full, not just of passion, but of an overwhelming and boundless love.

“Can I make love to you?” he asks, his voice a tender whisper that reverberates through the charged air between you. As his eyes search yours, a silent plea etched into their depths, his breath washes over your face, carrying with it the intoxicating scent of him—sweet and musky, a heady blend that envelops you in a cocoon of desire and longing.

“God, yes!” you moan fervently, your voice a breathless plea that echoes in the heated space between you. With an instinctual urgency, you open your legs wider, a silent invitation that beckons him closer, drawing him into the intimate embrace of your pussy with an irresistible pull.

He lays you down gently on a fragrant bed of bluebonnets, their sweet, flowery scent wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, infusing the night air with a delicate fragrance that speaks of love and serenity. As you pant softly, your eyes drink in the sight of Jimin poised above you, a vision of strength and vulnerability intertwined. His scars, a testament to his journey, only add to his allure, while his tender gaze holds you in a spellbinding trance. With deliberate movements, he hovers closer, his hand stroking his dick.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He asks, a note of realization creeping into his voice as he acknowledges the crucial detail he nearly overlooked.

You shake your head, a sense of disappointment washing over you like a wave crashing against the shore. Despite the nagging concern for safety, your desire burns fiercely, eclipsing rational thought with an unyielding craving for closeness.

“No, I don’t. I’m on the pill and I’m clean, are you?” You inquire, your voice laced with a mixture of longing and urgency, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

He chuckles softly, the sound a mixture of amusement and apprehension. “Yeah, I usually always wear protection too, but I really didn’t plan on this happening tonight,” he admits, his words tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “You’re okay without it?” He asks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt, his concern for your well-being evident in the furrow of his brow.

“I’m good, just fuck me, Jimin,” you pant, your voice trembling with a raw mixture of desire and urgency. With a fervent desperation, you spread your legs even wider, your glistening pussy shimmering in the moonlight, a beacon of temptation that beckons him closer. The sight leaves him licking his lips in unadulterated lust, his gaze fixated on you with a hunger that mirrors your own.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he strokes his dick once more, a silent promise of the pleasure to come. Aligning himself with your eager entrance, he begins to push his cock into your welcoming embrace, each inch a tantalizing reminder of the intimacy you’re about to share.

As he enters you, a surge of sensation washes over you, and you’re struck by the realization that he’s thicker than you anticipated. A fleeting moment of panic flits through your mind as you remember that he didn’t stretch you beforehand, but to your surprise, the slickness of your arousal makes the slide effortless. There’s no discomfort, only a delicious feeling of fullness that leaves you breathless with pleasure.

He reaches the deepest recesses of your being, his balls grazing your folds, and a primal moan escapes your lips as he ignites a firestorm of sensation within you.

Every inch of him stretches you to your limits, leaving you feeling gloriously full and alive with desire. With each withdrawal, a shiver races down your spine, only to be replaced by an electrifying jolt of pleasure as he thrusts back in.

The intensity of it all is overwhelming, sending you spiraling into a frenzy of ecstasy that surpasses even your most vivid fantasies. It’s everything you’ve ever imagined, and yet, so much more—so much better than your wildest wettest dreams.

You revel in the sensation of his dick twitching inside your pussy, a primal confirmation of his arousal that sends a thrill coursing through your veins. With each powerful thrust, the simplicity of the missionary position becomes a conduit for profound intimacy, every movement drawing you closer together in a passionate dance of desire. You’re soaking wet, to be honest, you’re dripping. His cock feels like a revelation, igniting flames of ecstasy that consume you wholly, leaving you utterly lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your passion.

His hands, initially anchored on either side of your hips, move across your trembling form. Each caress leaves a trail of tingling sensations in its wake, electrifying your senses with a fervent urgency. As his fingers glide over your curves, they pause upon the soft swell of your breasts, lingering there with an almost reverent touch. With a gentle tug on your nipple, he elicits a fervent moan of pure pleasure from your lips, each sensation unraveling you further in the throes of unabashed ecstasy.

As he continues to thrust deeply into you, his fingers teasing your sensitive nipple, you find yourself drawn to the raw intensity etched across his features. His expression, a captivating blend of desire and longing, captivates your gaze, his furrowed brow a testament to the depth of his passion. His eyes, wide and dilated with arousal, hold you in their hypnotic gaze, each glance igniting flames of longing within your core. His plush, red lips beckon to you with an irresistible allure, stirring an overwhelming urge to taste him once more, to lose yourself in him.

“Kiss,” you pant, your voice a desperate plea that hangs heavy in the air, and he chuckles softly at your fervent request. Without hesitation, he leans down to meet your lips, his kiss a fiery collision of passion and need, even as he continues to drive his dick into your heated depths with unwavering intensity.

Each brush of his lips against yours sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

“Fuck, you’re amazing babe,” he groans, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and desire, as he drives himself into you with a fervent urgency tempered by tender affection. Each powerful thrust is a testament to his adoration, his movements a symphony of passion and intimacy that leave you breathless with longing.

“Jimin, I—” you gasp, the words caught in your throat as he delves deeper into your depths, a surge of pleasure coursing through you as he gathers your legs and presses them against his shoulders, driving himself even further into your pussy.

Your gasping, overwhelmed by the depth of sensation as he plunges into you, exploring places you never knew existed, igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through every fiber of your being. It’s as if he’s reaching parts of you that have long remained dormant, his every movement sending shockwaves of ecstasy cascading through your body, leaving you teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion.

When he delivers a particularly powerful thrust, you surrender to the overwhelming wave of emotions coursing through you, your heart soaring as you release the words that have been simmering within, “I love you.”

With a husky grunt, he responds, his voice a low rumble filled with an undeniable tenderness, “I know, babe.”

Gazing at him through a veil of desire, your breath ragged with anticipation, you press him for clarity, your voice trembling with curiosity, “What do you mean, you know?”

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he withdraws completely, leaving you with a sense of emptiness that mirrors the sudden absence of his presence within you. “You told me at the gala,” he explains, his voice carrying a hint of amusement and fond remembrance, casting a glow of warmth over the memory.

Your expression morphs into a puzzled question mark once more, prompting another bout of laughter from him as he teasingly teases at your entrance once more.

“When you told me you hated me, you also said you love me,” he reveals, his voice laced with a mixture of humor and desire, before driving his dick back into you with an intensity that leaves you gasping, your cries of pleasure echoing in the night, mingling with the sounds of nature around you. You’re almost afraid you might startle the horses with all your noises.

“Fuck, I did?” you gasp incredulously, your voice tinged with disbelief and arousal, feeling the powerful grip of your pussy tightening around his cock, as if it’s instinctively pulling him deeper, craving the connection with an intensity that matches your own desire.

“Yeah. It was actually really hot. Do you know how sexy you are when you’re mad?” He leans down, gently pressing your thighs against your stomach, drawing you into an intimate embrace as he lowers his lips to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers, “I love you too.”

You’re consumed by a surge of sensation, questioning whether he’s grown larger or you’ve become tighter, the intense throbbing and twitching of his dick inside you driving you to the brink of madness. Every nerve in your body is alight, ablaze with desire, leaving you gasping for breath as if on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

As he ascends, his hand resumes its gentle ministrations on your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. The intensity is overwhelming, pushing you to the brink of release once more. Every fiber of your being is electrified, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. You feel like you could come at any moment now.

Despite the exhaustion that blankets your body with the way that he fucks you, you’re enveloped in a whirlwind of love and desire that leaves you feeling utterly spent yet infinitely fulfilled.

“Ahhh, fuck!” You cry out, the sensation of him delving so deep sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through every nerve ending, igniting a kaleidoscope of sensations that leave you seeing stars and unraveling at the seams.

“That’s it, babe. You’re taking me so well,” he pants, his voice thick with desire and need, echoing the frantic rhythm of your own breathless gasps. “I’m almost there. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you moan, elongating the word as if savoring its taste, your voice a symphony of pleasure and desire. Every nerve in your body ignites with a fiery intensity, fueled by the intoxicating sensations Jimin evokes. His touch, his presence, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, a blissful surge that consumes your very being.

As Jimin’s pace intensifies on your clit, perfectly synchronized with the depth of his thrusts, you surrender to the torrent of sensations cascading through your body.

Every touch, every movement, sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, a culmination of the emotions that have been simmering beneath the surface for months. With each exquisite moment, you release the pent-up tension, allowing yourself to be consumed by the raw, unbridled passion between you and Jimin— you simply let go.

“Jimin!” The cry tears from your lips like a primal invocation as you spiral into your third orgasm, a deluge of ecstasy flooding around his throbbing cock.

You’re left panting, a disheveled portrait of desire, as your core tightens around him, pulsing with each wave of release, coating his dick in a glistening sheen of your arousal.

“Fuck!” His voice is a raw mix of frustration and longing, his body trembling as your insatiable pussy seems to draw him deeper into your depths, culminating in a primal moan of your name as he spills his essence inside you.

You’re both left breathless, your bodies suffused with a warmth that courses through every inch of your skin, igniting a tingling sensation that dances along your nerves. It’s not just the aftermath of passion; it’s a shared ecstasy that leaves you both on the brink of shivering, though not from the chill of the night air.

As you ride out the waves of your climax, he continues to thrust inside you, his warmth flooding your depths, and you revel in the raw intimacy of it all. Even as his dick gradually softens, he remains nestled within you, both of you panting for air.

Droplets of sweat trickle down from his forehead, teasing your breasts with their warm caress. Despite the exhaustion etched on his face, he still radiates a captivating allure that leaves you breathless.

You feel the warmth of his semen trickling out of your pussy, tracing a tantalizing path down to your ass, leaving you feeling both sticky and sweaty.

You gently lower your legs from his shoulders, allowing them to find solid ground beside him. Gasping for air, a wide grin spreads across your face, punctuated by playful giggles. Jimin leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that elicits a soft moan from you. Breaking away, he grins, revealing his endearingly crooked teeth—a sight that never fails to warm your heart. Damn, you love this man.

You lose track of time with him nestled on top of you, his warmth enveloping you as he remains inside your pussy. The gentle thud of his beating heart against your chest creates a soothing rhythm, one that seems to sync perfectly with your own.

In that moment, entwined together, it feels like your souls are dancing to the same beautiful melody.

As he withdraws from you, he gracefully shifts onto his side, beckoning you to join him on his sleeping mat. You comply eagerly, settling yourself beside him, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. With a tender gesture, he draws both blankets over your entwined forms, cocooning you both in a comforting embrace against the night’s chill.

Entwined in each other’s arms, you drift into slumber, lulled by the rhythmic cadence of his heartbeat, a comforting lullaby in the stillness of the night. With your head nestled against his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beneath you, you find solace in the intimacy of the moment. Your fingertips trace delicate patterns on his pectorals. As you lie there, embraced by the tender embrace of nature, the symphony of the wilderness envelops you, a melodic harmony of chirping crickets and dancing fireflies. Above, the celestial canopy twinkles with a myriad of stars, casting a celestial glow upon your sanctuary, a sanctuary where time stands still and love knows no bounds.

As the first light of dawn paints patterns of gold through the foliage, coaxing you from slumber, you awaken beside Jimin, cocooned in the warmth of his presence. Stretching languidly, you feel the gentle weight of his body beside you, a comforting anchor in the hazy morning. Nestling closer to him, you bury your face into the curve of his chest, savoring the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. With a contented sigh, you greet the new day softly, your voice a whispered melody against the tranquil stillness, “Morning.”

He stirs beneath you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, a sound that resonates deep within your core. His gentle touch traces the curve of your spine, sending shivers cascading down your skin, igniting a familiar heat within you. The memory of last night dances at the edges of your consciousness, teasing and tantalizing, as his fingers linger on the curve of your ass, coaxing your body to life with every caress.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” His voice, warm and inviting, rouses you from the haze of sleep, like the first light of dawn piercing through the darkness. You blink away the remnants of dreams, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. His laughter, a melody of morning, dances in the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. As he opens his eyes, you find yourself captured by the depth of his gaze, a silent exchange of morning greetings between two souls entwined in the quiet serenity of dawn.

“Amazing,” you exhale the word against his chest, the warmth of your breath mingling with the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Soft kisses pepper his skin, each one a testament to the tenderness between you, yet there’s a playful edge as your teeth graze his flesh, drawing forth a soft chuckle from him, like music to your ears, a sweet symphony of affection.

He moves with a fluid grace, rolling you over and settling above you as the weight of his presence envelops you once more. His lips meet yours in a gentle caress, carrying the essence of dawn itself, a blend of morning flowers and the earthy musk of the forest. You inhale deeply, savoring his scent as it ignites a primal longing within you, tightening your core with desire. With a soft moan, you surrender to his kiss, your hands pulling him closer, as if trying to meld your beings together in a timeless embrace, unable to quench the thirst for his lips.

You sense the subtle twitch of his cock against your crotch. The warmth of his skin against yours reignites the embers of desire, and you become acutely aware of your nakedness, a lingering sensation from your passionate sex last night, that you still feel wet from. The memory of his touch lingers, and your body responds instinctively, still tingling with the echoes of pleasure. As your mind drifts, envisioning how easy it would be for him to slip right into your walls again, a shiver courses through you, your breath catching at the mere thought, while your core instinctively clenches, yearning for his familiar touch.

“Are you okay, babe?” Concern colors Jimin’s voice as he notices the faint furrow of frustration on your brow.

You offer him a soft smile, your fingertips tracing the contours of his cheeks with affectionate tenderness. “I’m absolutely wonderful, Jimin,” you confess, your voice laced with longing and a hint of playful desire. “I just miss you and I want you inside of me again already.”

“Oh, yeah?” His teasing tone sends a shiver down your spine as he playfully grinds his cock against your drenched pussy. You gasp at the sensation, overwhelmed by the flood of arousal coursing through your veins. How could you still be so wet, so ready for him, even after everything?

It’s like your body has a mind of its own, craving his touch with an insatiable hunger.

His dick presses against you, throbbing with anticipation, and as he eases his fully erect cock between your slick folds, a rush of pleasure surges through you, igniting every nerve ending. Your moans escape in soft gasps, lost in the bliss of his touch, as you feel the heat of his dick melding perfectly with your own.

Each movement of his cock inside you feels like a divine symphony, a perfect rhythm that resonates through your entire being. With each deep thrust, he fills you so completely, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Your breasts sway in tandem with his movements, a visual testament to the intense pleasure he’s giving you, each pull and thrust sending you spiraling into euphoria.

As your hands find their way to his back, you grip onto him with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed, the intensity of pleasure coursing through you like electricity. Then, as you tilt your head to the side, your eyes catch a glimpse of it— Mikrokosmos.

“Jimin-ah!” You pant urgently, your voice breaking the rhythm of your thrusts. When he catches sight of your startled expression, he halts his movements, his gaze instantly flooded with concern.

“What’s wrong, babe?” His voice carries genuine concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.

“It’s Mikrokosmos!” You exclaim, a mixture of awe and urgency in your voice as you tear your gaze away from Jimin to focus on the majestic sight. Sensing the shift in your demeanor, Jimin withdraws from your folds and joins you, his eyes following your gaze to where your black horse grazes lazily nearby.

You rise to your feet, embarking on a quest for your scattered garments, your fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties, eliciting a frustrated groan. Resolving to not put them on, you swiftly opt for your pants, slipping into them with haste. With determination, you locate your bra and shirt, swiftly adorning yourself in a flurry of movements. Meanwhile, Jimin is engaged in a similar pursuit, his efforts mirroring yours as he hastily dons his own attire.

Amidst the shared chaos of dressing, your laughter fills the air, a delightful symphony blending with the rustle of fabric and the gentle morning breeze.

As you don your attire with practiced efficiency, you slide your boots on, the leather molding comfortably around your feet. With deliberate steps, you approach Mikrokosmos, the ground yielding softly beneath your weight. Jimin shadows your movements, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the morning serenity. Each stride brings you closer to the majestic creature, your heart echoing the rhythm of hoofbeats as you draw near.

“Come here, girl,” you murmur, your hand extended like an open invitation. Mikrokosmos raises her head, her gaze fixated on you, a mysterious glint dancing in her eyes, elusive yet captivating.

With measured steps, she saunters toward you, a graceful dance of trust unfolding with each stride. As her velvety muzzle meets your outstretched hand, a surge of warmth envelops you, a sense of belonging washing over your soul. With a gentle whinny, she nuzzles against your palm, a silent affirmation of the bond between kindred spirits. “Good girl,” you whisper, your voice a tender melody amidst the tranquil embrace of nature.

You pivot slowly, no halter, no rope, no nothing, your gaze fixed ahead with quiet determination, “Let’s go home.”

Mikrokosmos follows your lead with unwavering trust, her hoofbeats falling into rhythm with your purposeful strides. Jimin’s eyes reflect admiration as he watches your natural affinity with the majestic creature. Returning to the other horses, you secure a rope around Mikrokosmos’s head, just in case she should get any ideas of leaving again, before tending to your belongings with practiced efficiency.

You saddle up Marshmallow, feeling the familiar comfort of the leather beneath your hands. Leading Mikrokosmos by the rope, you guide her onto the path, her presence beside you a reassuring anchor amidst the vast expanse of wilderness.

The serendipitous encounter with Mikrokosmos fills you with an indescribable joy, as if destiny itself had intervened to bring you together. With each step, your heart swells with gratitude and happiness, a feeling that courses through your veins like a warm embrace.

As the trail meanders homeward, you turn to Jimin, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Thank you, Jimin,” you whisper, the words carried away on the gentle breeze, a heartfelt acknowledgment of his unwavering support.

His warm smile washes over you, and you feel a rush of gratitude for his understanding. “No problem at all. I’m just glad to be here and help,” he murmurs, his eyes reflecting the same tenderness that fills your heart. Drawing closer, you intertwine your fingers with his, the simple act weaving a thread of intimacy between you. In that moment, riding side by side, the world fades away, leaving only the comforting embrace of each other’s presence.

His question catches you off guard, but the warmth in his voice draws you in. “Do you remember your fifth birthday?” he asks, a playful glint in his eyes, as if unraveling a cherished memory. His lips, so inviting and tender, curve into a smile, inviting you to journey back to that moment in time with him.

You chuckle softly, because you do remember, the memory flooding back like a cherished melody. You recall the innocence of that day, the laughter shared between you and Jimin as you played hide and seek, weaving tales of fantastical adventures. In that moment, surrounded by the whispers of childhood dreams, you realize the depth of your love with Jimin, sensing that perhaps there’s more to your bond than just friendship. It’s a realization that tugs at the strings of your heart, igniting a spark of hope for something more.

“Do you remember when you told me that guys couldn’t be friends with girls, that you’d get boy-lice or something?” he grins, his voice laced with nostalgia as he squeezes your hand gently. You roll your eyes playfully, the memory sparking a smile on your lips, because yes, you remember that too.

“I know I was insufferable back then,” you confess, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you wave off the memory.

“You weren’t. But you were oblivious to the fact that I had feelings for you back then, weren’t you?” He chuckles again, his laughter like a sweet melody that resonates deep within you, leaving you longing for more.

“I honestly didn’t. I just thought you were being a typical boy. But hey, I was five—how was I supposed to grasp the concept of love at that age?” You laugh lightly, a soft smile playing on your lips as you reminisce about the innocence of childhood.

He chuckles softly, his gaze holding a hint of curiosity, “It doesn’t matter now. But I was wondering…”

You find yourself lost in his hazel brown eyes, their warmth enveloping you, as you’re drawn to his captivating smile. With a soft breath, you respond, “Yes?”

With a tender gaze, he lays his heart bare before you, his words echoing with sincerity and vulnerability. “If you want to be my girlfriend. I don’t want to waste anymore time. I love you and I want us to be together,” he asks, his voice tapering off, a hint of uncertainty creeping in. Yet, you offer him solace, intertwining your fingers with his, leaning into his side, and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, affirming your affection without words.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Jimin.”

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

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monstrouslyobsessed · 2 years ago

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Can I request this concept? A male kitsune take possession of the still warm, dead body of a samurai and stole the life of this man, especially the samurai's sweet little wife. Darling suspect nothing and is just happy that her husband had returned to her side alive, after having hunted the fox demon who terrorised the village. Thanks! —anonymous

—a/n: ngl im very meh with this piece but hopefully you enjoyed this one anyway?

—tw / tags: gn reader, gore, violence, implied multiple deaths, burning bodies, details of destruction, body possession, general yandere themes, sfw —featured character(s): fox demon-possessed husband / warrior husband

As you emerged from your crooked shelter, your eyes watered from the stench. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and burned flesh, nauseating your empty stomach. Briefly, you surveyed the devastation that surrounded you, the once-populated village was now reduced to a smoldering wasteland of sorrow and splintered homes. Your chest tightened with pain, sympathy rich for other survivors, at the whimpering sobs in the distance.

As you moved your eyes toward the horizon of the beyond, trudging along the rough dirt trail, your feet sore from the jagged stones and splintered woods beneath them, you couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over you at seeing no sign of the person you longed for.

No figure in his iconic red armor forged from the bones of vanquished demons to be seen, leaving only the memory of his crooked smile to keep your heart a touch warm with love and hope.

The ocean of voices flooded your ears and you bit back a weary sigh. More dead to be burned and buried.

As the fathers, sons, and veterans surged forth to relight the bonfire, somberness curbing their movements, the resident monk hummed the funeral hymn and chanted for the spirits to find their way to the afterlife. He was performing the blessings to ensure that no demon would possess the dead to haunt the living. Despite the monk's needed existence in the village, the sound of his aged voice withered your nerves and woke the bitterness in your soul.

The monk's presence was only ever seen during such terrible events, while his faithful apprentice handled blessings for joyous occasions such as weddings and births. To you, the old monk might as well be a reaper wearing human skin, beckoning nothing but tragedies in his wake.

Dry sobbing echoed throughout the stale land. Your throat was parched, tasting ashes. The mothers, daughters, and widows of the fallen followed behind the men, to watch their loved ones burn, shrieking and quietly grieving their losses. Your nails dug into the back of your tightly clasped hands and you prayed you’d not be among them to grieve.

You tried not to shut your eyes too often, as the golden glare of the beast was still imprinted in your mind. Your blood turned cold each time you recalled the demon that had razed your village and slaughtered all those in its path. Its many tails thrashing through homes and stealing lives, it laughed at the bravado of those who thrust their weapons at it.

With one swipe of its claw, it wiped them out. A shiver trembled under your skin as you remembered the cacophony of breaking bones and snapping teeth, then it snapped up a poor soul. The boy's screams and the sound of his body being eaten between rows of white daggers, piercing and shredding his flesh and bones, would forever be imprinted in your memory.

You were there, frozen to the spot, as you watched the demonic being gleefully swallowing the body whole and then licking its chops clean of the remains of its meal.

The beast was larger than any monster you had seen before, towering over the wooden homes of the commoners. The demon's fiery eyes locked onto you and you knew you were its next meal. It grinned, purring a sequence of words that you were relieved you couldn't recall at all. All you heard were your own thundering heartbeats, pounding in your hot ears, as you choked on your breaths at each step it took toward you.

But then, a blur leaped over you and you heard a roar. You recognized the familiar black sword glinting in the flickering light, and your beloved husband swept in and charged toward the creature. Shrieking profanities as he ran, his armor clattering loudly with each step, and slashed his sword, leaving trails of silver behind it as it cleaved through the air.

The demon recoiled, narrowly avoiding losing its head to his sword.

That was the last you saw of your husband, as he chased the terrible fox from the village. It had been over two days since and you had prayed feverishly for your husband's safe return. A cold fear steadily grew in the pit of your stomach, like a thorny vine chasing the sunlight from the dry earth. It was a sickening feeling and you knew no sleep since your husband’s departure.

With a shuddering sigh, you wet your throat and turned your feet to help the grieving rebuild their lives. Having idle hands wouldn't shorten the hours until your husband's return you feverishly prayed for. There was nothing more you could do.

You may be the village's beloved warrior's cherished one, but you were not its spoiled royalty. You still had your duties to callous your hands.

"The lord returned!" A voice cried out, scattering the crows into the sky.

A quiet gasp departed from your lips—and with your heart daring to hope, you slowly pivoted back to where you were.

The forged armor of the layered bones cracked at each step he took, brilliantly red under the sunlight. His smile was as crooked as you remembered it to be, shining through the mask of dirt and dried blood on his face. He lumbered along the dirt path, tattered and exhausted, using his sheathed sword as a cane to support his weight.

You wobbled in disbelief at what you were seeing. His name whispered through your lips, questioning if he was truly the person you were seeing. Another breath of his name escaped, louder, in a choked cry. As he came closer, he jovially spoke your name.

His voice was all you needed to know that you weren't losing your mind.

You broke into a mad dash, shrieking out your husband’s name—and his warm arms encircled your body. Burying your face into his neck, ignoring the thorns poking you from his hard armors, you gripped his waist and wailed, “—! You came back! I—I,”

Sobs replaced your words and all you could do was cling to your idiotic, wonderfully powerful husband. Remembering the musk of your husband through the stinks of sweat and old blood, the soft texture of his hair against your nose, the coarseness of his thinly furred chin on your cheek—how warmly he held you in his tight possessive embrace. Everything of your husband you missed so, so much.

Nuzzling into your hair, your husband consoled you in a crooning voice, “I’m home, my love, I’m home.” He pet a large hand down your scalp, inhaling your scent deeply—to forever imprint it into his mind. Hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder, your husband hid his wicked grin, to hide the sharp fangs from peering out from his mouth.

Finally, your husband thought as the inhumanly gold color seeped into his once dark eyes, you’re mine.

He should keep this human suit a little while longer, to play pretend with his pretty little spouse.

—end

#my writing #monster's writing. 👹#yandere #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #tetrophilia #exophilia #reader insert #long post #unedited #sfw #concept #gn reader #demon possessed husband #demon possession #body possession

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bluejaysandblackbats · 6 months ago

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Lost Boys

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Superfam

Summary: After Jonathan Lane Kent wipes himself from existence by canceling his own timeline, he finds himself stuck in the afterlife where he meets Jason Todd. He still wonders about the life un-lived on Earth, and how his parents would've felt about him.

Jason Todd, who is making the most of being dead, struggles with the reality of what he's left behind. He has one wish and one wish only: to send his family one final message.

Chapters: 14/?

Characters: Jonathan Lane Kent (Laney), Jason Todd, Catherine Todd, Boston Brand, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, John Constantine, Raven, Talia al Ghul, Ra's al Ghul, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Relationships: Platonic JayLaney

Additional Tags: Angst, Platonic Relationships, Magical Jason Todd, Resurrected Jason Todd, Queerplatonic Relationships, Canon Divergent AU, POV Multiple

Chapter Fourteen: Do I Wanna Know (Jason's POV)

When we got to Clark Kent's home in Metropolis, I offered to sit in the car, but Laney insisted that I go with him. He hesitated before knocking on the door, and he turned to me. "They're in there. I can see them," Laney whispered. He grabbed my hand and started breathing heavily. Lois answered the door, and she looked at me and then at Laney. "Hello," she said. Laney couldn't breathe, let alone move. "Hi... I um—. We can tell you why we're here, but we can't say anything in the hallway," I explained. She let us in, and Clark looked up from his dinner. I nudged Laney. "Tell them who you are," I whispered. Laney looked at Lois and then at Clark before taking a breath. "I'm Jonathan Lane Kent... And I—. Uh," he swallowed hard, "I used to be your son. Someone else raised me, and he raised me to kill metas, but I came back to the present, and I erased myself from existence to save the world from different versions of myself—." Clark stopped him. "You're our son?" he asked. Laney nodded, and he tried to force a smile on his face. "Are you our son too?" Lois asked me, and I shook my head.

"No, I'm his best friend from the afterlife. Laney, do you want me—?" "I'm sorry. The afterlife?" Clark interrupted. Laney nodded. I wanted to let Laney speak for himself, but it seemed like he didn't know what else to say. "Laney came a long way to see you... He's a good person, and all he wants is to get to know his family," I explained. Laney hovered just above the ground, anxiously awaiting their dismissal. I knew better. Lois was the first to embrace him, and he hugged her back. "You can call me Mom," Lois whispered to him.

Clark waited until she let go to pick him up and embrace him. "It's so nice to meet you. We'll talk about how you got here once you both get something to eat," Clark whispered, "Where are you kids staying tonight?" Laney was beside himself. He pushed his sleeve across his face to wipe his tears as they flooded to the surface. I took my hand and rubbed his back. "Well, we were gonna stay in a hotel," Laney answered, "Sorry, I—. Thank you for inviting us to dinner, but I just—." "Please stay for dinner... And stay the night," Lois interrupted. We didn't argue with her. We washed our hands and sat down at their table. Laney was uncharacteristically silent. It was so weird seeing him with his parents. He looked so much like them, but I knew he felt out of place. "The afterlife?" Clark asked once more, and Lois shot him a look. "Mhm. When I erased myself from existence, I got sent to the afterlife. That's where I met Jason. He stopped me from trying to kill myself, and I've been with him ever since," Laney answered without looking up from his plate. His parents looked over at me. "I don't remember the afterlife, but I know he's been by my side ever since I got resurrected... And he stuck by me even when I thought he was a hallucination caused by severe brain damage," I added and then realized I made things more awkward. "Are you still close with Bruce?" I took a sip of water and hoped they'd forget that Laney and I just admitted to being two traumatized teenagers on a road trip. "You're Bruce's Jason?" Clark asked. I nodded. "Okay... So, you died, and you gave up your existence. You both met in the afterlife, became friends, and returned to life—." "That's where it gets weird. Jason got resurrected... And when I followed him, I was still a ghost. But he did some sort of spell, and now I have a physical body, but I'm not even sure that I'm alive," Laney replied, "Also, I guess I'm just here to meet you guys. We never got to know each other, and I don't know... I feel stupid asking for this. Will I ever really feel like a son to you guys?" I felt sick to my stomach. Laney had no idea how much he deserved this life. He was supposed to have loving parents and family dinners and firm hugs. It was his life. And I was holding him back... "Lane, I'm gonna go get some stuff from the car," I whispered. Laney grabbed my arm and shook his head. "Jason, please," Laney pleaded with me in a whisper tone. I sat down, and we finished dinner in near-silence. Once dinner was over, he and Clark followed me down to the car, and we took our bags upstairs. I took my shower first, and when Laney came out of the bathroom, he sat next to me on the bed. His parents walked into the room to talk to us. "Are you boys dating?" Lois asked. We both started to laugh. "No," Laney smiled, "We're not dating." They both nodded and left the room. Laney waited until I lay down to lay his head on my chest. "You can stay if you want to," I whispered. He made a soft noise and pushed his face into my chest. I could feel his tears penetrating through my shirt. Before I knew it, he was sobbing and clutching my shirt in his fists. I shushed him and rubbed his back. He hiccupped and cried, and I rested a hand on his neck. "Stop it, okay? I'm just saying, I'll visit you anytime you want me to... If this is where you want to be," I reassured him. "You never asked me," Laney sniffed. I took a deep breath. I didn't want to leave Laney, but I assumed he wanted to stay with his family. "What do you want to do?" I asked. Laney took a deep breath before answering, "I want to stay with you." I smiled and played with his hair. "Where you go, I go. It's time for me to stick with you now," I whispered. We didn't say anything else after that. He fell asleep with his head on my chest, and I stayed awake. I didn't know what we'd do from there on out, but at least I knew we'd be together.

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hoseokhasmyheartxx · 2 years ago

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hiiii steph!!! could i request 25 and 125 and jin? tysm!

Drunken Confessions | KSJ

*Pairing: best friend!Seokjin x gn!reader *Word Count: 1093 *Genre: friends-to-something, fluff, non-idol AU *Warnings: alcohol consumption and some crying are the only warnings i can think of, but regardless, my work is 18+ and MINORS DNI. *Summary: When you go to pick your best friend up from the bar, the last thing you're expecting is a drunken confession. *A/N: jfc i am so sorry this took so long! i have writer's hyperactivity and can barely focus on one fic at a time, let alone multiple. 🤣 i hope you enjoy this!

Prompt from this post!

Main Masterlist

Being woken up at 1:30 AM on a Thursday morning wasn’t exactly your idea of fun.

Being woken up at 1:30 AM on a Thursday morning to go pick up your drunk best friend? Even worse.

You sighed, hanging up the phone and dragging yourself out of bed. Silently cursing Jungkook for enabling him once again, you grabbed your keys and slipped on your shoes before heading out the door.

The drive to the bar was uneventful and quick. Pulling over to the side of the street and flipping on your hazard lights, you texted Jungkook to tell him to hurry up. Within minutes, you were greeted with the sight of him, Jin’s stumbling making you giggle as they reached your car.

“Sorry, dude. He insisted I call you instead of an Uber,” Jungkook huffed out, dumping Jin into the passenger seat of your car. “Good luck.”

You waved as Jungkook shut the car door, putting the car into drive again as you left the bar. Glancing over at Jin, you laughed as you saw him already passed out, head lolling to the side, mouth agape.

Shaking your head, you drove silently to Jin’s apartment complex. You pulled into his second parking space, turning to face him. Nudging him gently, you shook him awake.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. Get up. We’re here.”

Jin grumbled, struggling to get his seatbelt off. Letting out an exasperated sigh, you reached over to unclick it for him, then went one step farther and pulled the lever to open his car door for him as well. Turning the car off, you walked over to his side of the car and pulled the door open all the way. You watched as he stumbled his way out of your car, almost tripping over his own feet multiple times on the way to his front door. You followed him, wanting to make sure he got to bed without falling and cracking his head open on the tile floor.

He was so drunk that he could barely get his keys out of his pocket without dropping them. Rolling your eyes, you fished around in his back pocket for the keys and silently unlocked his front door. Letting yourself in, you stood to the side as Jin came in after you, kicking his shoes off to the side.

He was unusually quiet today. Even on his drunkest nights, Jin was typically the life of the party. Obnoxious laughter and loud, nonstop talking were his personality. He would never shut up about how much fun he was, or how handsome his face was. He had even drunkenly given himself the nickname WWH, “Worldwide Handsome.” But tonight, something was different.

Grabbing a bottle of water from his kitchen, and Advil from his bathroom, you followed him into his bedroom, where he was seated on the bed. Watching him struggle to unbutton his shirt was comical at first, but after multiple failed attempts, it became painful to watch.

“Here, let me help you,” you offered. Sitting down next to him, you reached over and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers worked quickly, wanting to get home so you could get back to sleep. Finishing the buttons, you patted his chest and stood again, watching as he sat, still abnormally quiet.

You handed him the Advil and water, hoping he wouldn’t wake up hungover, even though he rightly deserved it at this point. You watched as he swallowed the pills, his throat bobbing as he drank his water. Sighing, he shakily placed the water bottle down on his nightstand before standing to take his pants off. You hurriedly turned around. The two of you were close, but not that close.

Hearing the mattress squeak, followed by the rustling of his comforter, you knew he was covered, so you turned around again. He just stared at you, not saying anything. Jin was tall, with broad shoulders that engulfed you every time he hugged you. But, seeing him huddled up in bed, his comforter pulled up to his chin, he looked so small. His eyes searched yours, a look on them you’d never seen before. Almost like.. sadness. Jin wasn’t one to ever show his emotions, so this threw you.

“Alright, bud. You good? If you are, I'm gonna go,” you said, heading toward the door behind you. You took a few steps before you heard your name called from behind you. You turned back, facing him again.

“It hurts.”

Scrunching your face up in confusion, you closed the distance between the two of you, kneeling on the floor next to his bed, your face level with his.

“Jinnie, what hurts? Are you okay?”

You watched as tears rolled down his cheeks. You cradled his face in your hand, swiping them away with your thumb.

He took a deep breath, calming himself before continuing.

“It hurts loving someone who doesn’t love you.”

You felt your hand drop from his face, your heart along with it. You weren’t positive that he was talking about you, but you had a feeling. Jin had been your best friend for two years, and you’d always hoped that maybe something could happen between you two. But it never had; he’d never given you the slightest hint that it could be possible.

“Who, Jinnie? What are you talking about?”

He shifted onto his back, eyes never leaving yours.

“You, dumbass. I- I love you,” he slurred.

Your heart skipped a beat. Well, more like several beats.

“Jin… you’re drunk,” you reasoned.

“You’re right, I am. But it’s the truth.”

Sighing, you stood, trying to get out of there before you did something stupid, like believe him.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Jin. Get some sleep,” you said, rushing out of his room, out the door to your car. You drove home, holding back tears the whole way.

You tossed and turned all night, unsure when you finally fell asleep. You woke up, feeling even more exhausted than you were before.

Checking your phone, you opened your texts, only to drop your phone directly onto your face upon reading the only message you had.

8:47 AM Jinnie: I meant it. I’m in love with you.

You stared at the ceiling, eyes wide as you digested what you’d just read. Jin had drunkenly told you he was in love with you, which you didn’t believe. But now? He was telling you the same thing, completely sober, and you knew he wasn’t someone who would ever lie about something like this.

Now what?

#bts x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin fic #jin fanfic #seokjin fic #seokjin fanfic #jin fluff #seokjin fluff #seokjin drabble #jin drabble #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bts imagines

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bustyasianbeautiespod · 1 year ago

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im so miserable about your aziraphale analyses this episode like. aziraphale comes from a place where validation and positive feedback are fundamental to knowing that you’re being who you’re meant to be and doing what you’re meant to do, but crowley is coming from a place where validation from someone else doesn’t matter to them, and he probably thought aziraphale was of a similar mindset right? i read an analysis post once comparing the way crowley talks to aziraphale and the way heaven does/did and i didn’t really agree with it at first but thinking back..maybe there was something to it. bc one of the things people analyze a lot in the final fifteen is how aziraphale, amongst a million other things, looks almost angry at crowley at certain points (post-kiss and “i think i understand a whole lot better than you do” are the first ones that come to mind). im asking myself if this is intentional but it is a point they brush up against multiple times so it very well could be. the acting certainly leaves room for that interpretation and i trust michael sheen with acting more than i trust neil with writing so

AREN'T WE ALL SO MISERABLE. love when the only person who truly knows you was also raised in oppositeville to you thus causing you to give each other so so many problems!

i think the way crowley talks to aziraphale is partly bc validation doesn't matter that much to them (she's truly swaggering around in hell saying everyone loves him while getting booed at every meeting <3) and partly bc of the whole "if hell hears i did something good i will be kidnapped and tortured" thing. we all know crowley expresses love through acts of service, which aziraphale does receive and understand to be love ("but rescuing me makes him so happy"), but crowley can't receive love via the words of affirmation aziraphale wants to give - he tells aziraphale to shut up whenever aziraphale tries to compliment them bc aziraphale doing so actually does endanger her! if your automatic instinct upon hearing the word "kind" or "nice" is to panic and check that the ground isn't about to swallow you, telling aziraphale he did a good job/is a good person is also not going to come easily to you. so instead we get sarcasm that aziraphale tries to read as a real compliment or (i'm assuming this happens during their offscreen time together) stuff like "you're an angel, i don't think you can do the wrong thing" that reinforces aziraphale's heaven=good hell=bad lies he tells himself.

what i do find so aghhhh-inducing though is that as soon as aziraphale does do a crowley love language at him w the holy water favor, crowley does respond w "should i say thank you?" bc "act of service returned with words of affirmation" is a script that they're used to, and that's rlly emphasized by the 1.03 cold open having 1793 crowley act of service -> 1862 divorce -> 1941 crowley act of service -> 1967 aziraphale act of service in that progression

but regarding the final fifteen, i do think aziraphale is angry and i do think it's partly bc he thinks crowley is treating him like he's stupid. all i have to say on that is that i watched 1.03 recently after our ep 12.2 recording and aziraphale's angry "i'm not an idiot, crowley!" in 1862 sure does spice up crowley's pre-kiss line being "you idiot. we could have been... us"

- Crystal :)

#this is an aziraphale ask but i've been mourning for days now that i didn't do a good enough job repping crowley's pov in our 12.2 recording #so. sorry but crowley thoughts be upon ye #asks

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bumblebeerror · 1 year ago

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1) I feel it’s pertinent to mention that not only is Rabies undetectable and therefore you should get any bite by an unfamiliar animal checked, you should also get any bite by ANY animal and any human checked. Dogs, cats, humans, and several other species carry dangerous bacteria in their mouths that can cause serious infection and even death if left untreated. One of the more dangerous things about daycare is in fact that children are inclined to bite you and not inclined to stop biting you.

2) I need to hammer home that Rabies is so incredibly deadly that the only thing as deadly as Rabies is Mad Cow Disease, also known as Prion disease, wherein proteins are formed incorrectly by chance or introduced to the system through ingesting human or animal brains, and once symptoms present after a latency period, they will kill you. Both have fatality rates of 100%, no chance of recovery, and no cure.

Rabies is a personal interest of mine, so. Allow me to explain why it’s so deadly.

First off, it’s one of the most aggressively infectious diseases I can think of. It’s transmitted through contact with infected saliva, blood, and brain matter - it can’t go though unbroken skin, but any mucous membranes are fair game. Aerosolized infectious matter can be deadly, which is why shooting rabid animals is discouraged.

Not only is infected saliva particularly concentrated, the virus itself is a master at maximizing it’s chosen vectors.

Its incubation period is anywhere between 3 days and several months, though 3-5 days is common. The animal bitten has time to go to a new area, mingle with different animals, before becoming ill. In this early stage symptoms are mild and flu-like, with low fever and irritation of the bite.

After this stage, the person or animal takes on an uncanny appearance - all muscles contract and tighten, eyes bulge from their sockets, and their gait becomes stiff and zombie-like. They also start to develop mneurological symptoms - aggression, reactivity, and SEVERE hydrophobia (the fear of water). As Hydrophobia presents, drinking becomes impossible because the muscles of the throat begin to spasm uncontrollably whenever swallowing is attempted, and sometimes even seeing water can cause these painful spasms. Saliva production increases, and because it can no longer be swallowed, it’s simply drooled out, coating the mouth of the infected animal with deadly infection.

This combination of reactivity, aggression, and infected saliva pooling in the mouth makes for a very fucking deadly combination, meaning that any new animal to approach will likely be infected by the bite of the animal. Not to mention this aggression means they will likely be injured and bleeding, causing even more vectors of infection.

If all of that wasn’t enough, rabies pushes the animals abilities into the fucking terrifying, increasing their strength and making them so aggressive that injuries rarely slow down the infected animal. If you’ve ever heard stories about a city person going to stay in the country and seeing a large contorted animal that simply refuses to die even when shot multiple times? It wasn’t supernatural. It was rabies.

It’s deadliness is just as brutal as it’s infectiousness. Victims simply won’t survive, and this is the reason. Once the second stage kicks in, fever skyrockets and can cause seizures and brain damage, and as the victim is unable to drink, they also experience extreme dehydration. Those alone can kill, but the victims also commonly injure themselves through aggression and twitchiness, too.

And even if you survive through the hydrophobic phase, you won’t survive the disease. After about 2-10 days, the victim’s muscles slowly relax, and then become paralyzed. The paralysis eventually causes breathing to stop, and the victim dies.

The only real way to prevent rabies when you’re bitten is a round of localized vaccinations, or several generalized vaccinations if the infection site is somewhere small, like a finger. The smallest number of potential injections of the vaccine is 4 over a 2 week period. The vaccine is so incredibly vital to human survival of rabies as the only effective treatment that even if the person in question is allergic to one or more of the ingredients, even if it would induce deadly reactions, the vaccines are given anyway, along with strong antihistamine and adrenaline.

Lemme just repeat that: Rabies itself is so deadly, that it is a less assured death to give someone the vaccine even if they are deathly allergic to it. A deadly allergic reaction is considered not only more treatable, but has a high enough survival rate compared to rabies to make it the safest option in this scenario.

Not to mention, the vaccine itself can be dangerous - it’s prone to causing high fevers and extreme muscle aches, along with other severe flu-like symptoms and often patients must be kept under observation after it’s administered.

Rabies is fucking dangerous.

Fun fact though - the only animal that is immune to rabies in North America is the Opossum, whose species is older than the virus itself and is also immune to several snake poisons.

So, I mean. I guess if you must pick up and handle a wild animal, I’m begging you to please make it an opossum. Be nice to them they are also north americas only native marsupial and their body temp is so low for a mammal it kills most germs before they can incubate :D

Man but the notes on that post really are just tumblr showing they have no idea how anything works.

"report to your local animal abuse people not to cops" local animal abuse people would be animal control. Animal control officers are cops.

"rabies is treatable if you go to the doctor right after the bite" rabies is PREVENTABLE, not treatable. There is no cure for rabies. If you suspect you came into contact with a rabid animal, you need to get a series of rabies vaccinations to prevent the virus from taking over your body. This is not a treatment and it only works if you go right away. If you show any symptoms of rabies it is too late.

"rabies is fatal in animals but treatable in humans" rabies has a 100% fatality rate and is not considered a survivable disease at this point in time. If you contract rabies YOU WILL DIE. The "treatment" in humans is called the Milwaukee Protocol, only 14% of people survive it, and it leaves you with massive brain damage and effectively turns you into a vegetable. You do not return to a normal life afterwards. Very few people who have undergone this process are capable of doing more than laying in a hospital bed and eating and breathing through tubes. To my knowledge only one person was able to live a semi-normal life after years and years of ongoing therapy and was not expected to have made it even through her first year after treatment.

I cannot stress enough how rabies is unlike any other disease you may be thinking of. It's required on a federal level in this country to vaccinate pretty much any domestic animal that comes into contact with wildlife for one reason and one reason only: it is not considered possible to cure rabies and the spread of disease would threaten all mammalian life including our own if allowed to continue to propagate.

#can you tell I like opossums #they’re so good. they’re so baby. they’re just scared of you #they are little baby who eats ticks and fleas and is immune to rabies #and scientists are trying to use their saliva to create an anti venom #they <3

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truckreincarnation · 1 year ago

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Built Pressure | Miles | Trial 1.4 | Re: 19, only vaguely others | ATTN: 19

Miles was… confused, gears turning in his head when Kali and Amber answered him and Perry, though it wasn’t long before the ideas he might have had because of that were buried because of everything else. Miles’ tension had been building slowly throughout the trial, from every insult and every accusation, every little clue slowly spelling out the only person who could have been on the scene.

But as soon as 19 looks at him directly, and begins to confess with tears in her eyes… Miles heart feels like it stops, replaced by a purely agonizing feeling as he struggles to keep looking at her as she talks.

Francis had been the one to 19 had been tricked. She’d been taken advantage of, she’d tried to HELP, she’d never meant to kill, and yet… She hadn’t meant to do anything wrong, and YET-

Miles’ shoulders shake a bit as he stays in his seat, breathing labored as he fails to find words at first. It’s probably a good thing that he’s not standing for this, huh…?

He flinches hard as Esmee slams her quill down with a crash, his shaking getting worse, and his breathing becoming more shallow and quick. Her words at least don’t agitate him, but… It doesn’t get any better as people continue to talk, not with the reality of the situation bearing down on them all, not with being told to VOTE, and not with some people already acting like 19 was already as good as dead, saying their goodbyes already, nice as they probably meant it-

He holds his hands over his ears as if to block it all out, hunched over slightly in his seat and trying hard to keep himself together despite the detached look in his eyes for a while. He’s not fully successful, but…

Miles manages to take a single deep breath, body still trembling, but at last, he finds enough air to speak.

“Is that… true? All of what you said just now… it’s the truth, right…?” he finally manages to get out once there’s finally space to talk, words intended for 19 herself. He already believes her, he already trusts everything she’s said while looking at him, but he asks anyways.

“I… believe you, either way. Francis… has to be the one who checked out everything, the swords and gun both, because of… because of what the answer to my question was, and you checking out that Axe in the investigation.“

"She’s the one who had to have planned it, from the layout for the plan she had to have drawn, and… and having to get permission to check out multiple weapons for a murder, because she had to have been planning death if she got to check out that many, now that we know that rule, and caused… whatever happened in the too. No matter… who it was who she tried to kill, if it was… if it was all her idea. That’s… that’s not fair. You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t have to take the blame for that.”

His words are quiet at first, almost gentle but afraid in tone as his shaking continues. There’s even the very subtle start of a his own eyes watering a little, even if no tears fall. But there’s a building feeling behind it beyond the obvious fear of what’s going to be happening too. He is afraid, of course, he’s terrified because of it all, and yet…

More than just being afraid afraid, Miles is so incredibly ANGRY about what’s happened already, what was still happening, and what’s being insisted should happen soon too.

So angry that for once, he can’t cleanly keep a lid on it, like he usually can. There’s a harsher tone to the next words he says, sitting just behind his usual one, and this time, it leaks though.

“That’s not fair. You never meant ANY of it, you never… planned for it to happen. It’s… horrible. It’s fucking disgusting that you were used like that and used in someone else plans at all, no matter what she was actually aiming for, and I don’t… I don’t want you to be sacrificed too, because of someone else’s malice. I don’t… I don’t know what to do. This entire ritual, it’s just-”

His breathing speed increases again as he swallows, cutting himself off and struggling greatly to hold his negative emotions down and out of sight once again, balling his hands into fists out of sight and staring back down at the table in front of him. He knows that the horrible feelings he has won’t help anything, right now.

And once more, his words are quieter.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to speculate about… what we don’t know, and I know… all of us were under the same pressures either way, but…” From what they DID know… “I don’t think… This isn’t… this shouldn’t be your fault, 19, for just… trying to help someone. I can’t… I can’t blame you for that, no matter what happened, if… if you got put in that situation first. I don’t want you to die, or… or anything else that might happen. But I don’t know what to do. But I… I won’t… I won’t forget what I promised you.”

He’s staring now down now, where he knows his journal will be waiting for him. He doesn’t want to use it. He doesn’t even know what to write, and he’s out of things to say. Once more, he’s struggling to breath and muttering incoherent things under his breath to himself.

It’s not fucking fair.

#ch1 #trial1 #submission #Avery

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kirishimas-manly-eyeliner · 4 years ago

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➶ WHAT MAKES THE MHA BOYS BREAK (PT. 1)

pairings: mezo shoji, tokoyami fumikage, hanta sero, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, eijiro kirishima, denki kaminari, hitoshi shinsou

warnings: reverse comfort, may or may not have cried a lil’ while writing this. this one hurt a lot but it’s so sweet and fluffy, enjoy luvs!! also lol you could see my favoritism for kirishima

part two with bakugo, iida, ojiro, tamaki, mirio, hawks, dabi, shigaraki, and aizawa is here!

WHEN YOU CALL THEM BEAUTIFUL: MEZO SHOJI, TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE, HANTA SERO

MEZO SHOJI

(HE’S SO UNDERRATED LIKE PLS Y’ALL 😩)

he starts panicking as soon as you ask him to take off his mask

at first, he declines right away before turning his face around so you couldn’t touch the fabric

“mezo, i promise. i won’t hurt you, or judge you i just- i want you to trust me, is that alright with you?” you said gently. “but if you don’t want to, don’t worry about it, ‘kay?”

could he really trust you? or would you leave when he found out he wasn’t a normal person with a normal smile, that he was a monster, that was someone who looked different, what would you do?

but if you didn’t love him for who he really was, then... what was the point, right?

shoji let out a trembled sighed in defeat as his dupli-arms took the mask off. he looked down in shame, eyes shut so he couldn’t see your reaction

but your reaction was... completely unexpected

"You're beautiful!!! Why didn't you tell me that you looked so lovely all this time baby??"

did he just hear you correctly?

did you just-- call him beautiful?

and in that moment, in those small moments, you can see his geniune smile.

his real smile beneath the mask, as his eyes shine for the first time with sincere, and earnest love and thanks

pls keep him 🥺

TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE

the moment he hear the words "you're beautiful" come out of your mouth, he couldn't stop thinking about it for days.

and i mean days as in multiple days, so probably weeks

and he’ll probably think about it for the rest of his life

because when he looked at himself, he thought: what about him was beautiful?

he didn't have human-like features like everyone else, he didn't have those big muscles and a nice body, because-- well, he had a bird head!

A LITERAL BIRD HEAD, so why on earth did you: you who had human features, you who was so nice to everyone, and you who could have gone for so many other people call him beautiful?

he didn’t have that charisma and extroverted personality like some others did, and he kept to himself

why did you think he was beautiful? how?

but you were the one who said it. you were the one who reminded him, you were the one who gave him hope

and he knew that you were always straightforward with the truth-- and this was a truth, too

and to him, that was the most beautiful thing.

HANTA SERO

this amazing bby doesn’t get enough recognition

but for a good part of his life, he’d been surrounded by people with amazing quirks, levels of strength, and amazing appearances.

he was literally friends with bakugo fricking katsuki, and he was in the same class as shoto todoroki

when he first met you, he had to convince himself for days that there was no way that he could ever catch your eye,

until he did.

when you two met after a long day of training and you told him a joke, his eyes sparkled and he laughed, genuinely

before you knew it, you blurted out the words, “you’re beautiful” before realizing what you’d said and flushing

lol sero chokes on his water

“...did you really mean that?”

“i- yeah, sorry, i didn’t-”

“no, uh, thank you. thank you so much.”

for the next few days, he stays up at night and keeps on training because he thinks of the time you called him, who constantly felt like he wasn’t enough, beautiful

and that was more than enough to make him smile. 🥺💕

WHEN YOU KISS THEIR SCARS: IZUKU MIDORIYA, SHOTO TODOROKI

IZUKU MIDORIYA

he immediately starts tearing up when you kiss them

most people probably expect him to get flushed with something so intimate, but it’s the opposite

his scars are just something that’s so meaningful to him because it’s evidence of what he’s been through

but at the same time, he’s also insecure about them because he feels like he disappointed his mom by getting hurt so often 🥺

when you kiss his scars and tell them that they’re beautiful, he starts tearing up because-- wow

this is the moment that he’ll remember until the day he dies, because it’s when he feels free to finally open up to you

it’s when he feels free to open up to anyone, for that matter, and a huge weight just gets lifted off his chest

you took his hands and kissed his knuckles before pressing your forehead to his

izuku begins to cry, just a little bit as you gingerly kiss his scars again

“you see? you’re safe. you’re safe with me, okay?”

he nods slowly. “th-thank you.”

SHOTO TODOROKI

you two were walking back to the dorms after training out on the field together

it wasn’t too late a night, just a few minutes before curfew

your hands were buried in your pockets as you two talked about your day and what you could improve on in training

“shoto, can i ask you a question?”

he thought you were mad at him for a moment 😳

“sure.”

you swallowed, as you took a breath, “can i touch your scar?”

he whips his head around, out of shock and confusion

you wanted to touch his scar?

shoto had never planned on anything like that happening to him, and especially not from someone who meant so much to him

“...i suppose so,”

you hid your anxiousness and swallowed, cupping his face in your hands as your hand brushed across his scar

a jolt went through your fingers at that moment, and it was the first time you’d ever felt so connected to someone

shoto todoroki, the prodigy and son of endeavor was letting you touch his scar

to your surprise, shoto melted into it as he closed his eyes, placing his hand gently on top of yours

you could feel his hands shaking though his expressions were so relaxed

you kissed the side of his scar, running a hand through his hair

“i’m so lucky to have you.”

WHEN YOU COMPLIMENT HIS QUIRK: EIJIRO KIRISHIMA, DENKI KAMINARI, HITOSHI SHINSOU

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

eijiro cursed as he slammed his head against the wall for the hundredth time that day

he hated to admit it, but ever since the sports festival, everything had just been falling apart

for starters, he was already insecure enough on his own about his quirk

it seemed like everyone had something flashy and made them look invincible, while he was stuck with something that could only follow around his body and cracked if he used it too much

and that... that made him upset

but when the sports festival came around, not only did he see everyone with amazing quirks and using them to their full potential, tetsutetsu had nearly the same quirk as him

and to make matters worse, they had tied and had to settle it with a fist fight

“why?” he asked to himself, looking down at the floor. “why couldn’t i- why couldn’t i have been born with a flashier quirk?”

great, now he was crying.

at least no one else was around to see him this weak-

“kirishima?”

oh shit.

he turned around, his bloodshot eyes locking with yours. “h-hey,” eijiro said weakly

“what are you- what are you doing here-?” you noticed the way his body trembled when he took a breath and blood trickling from his forehead. “hey, are you okay?” you said.

eijiro sincerely had no idea what to say. “my quirk,” he looked down at his hands.

you cocked your head. “what about it? i think it’s pretty neat!”

kirishima looked up. “really?”

“mhm!” you nodded enthusiastically. “it can be the strongest barrier, or the most powerful weapon! i think it’s cool that your body can just become a shield out of nowhere, it’s like-- it’s like you’re a shield, ya know? sure, todoroki might have his ice, but that makes damage and takes time to clean up, like midoriya’s punches or bakugo’s explosions. but your quirk is its own little thing! and i think that’s pretty neat.”

kirishima beamed. huh, maybe so.

DENKI KAMINARI

“good job, bakugo!”

“haha, nice job on that one, kirishima.”

“your quirk is so cool, todoroki! i love how the ice just went striaght through the roof!”

“nice jumping, deku! your punches are amazing.”

but i...

i was the one who helped the power come back, i was the one who literally fried my brain, i was the one who did all of that, and i-

i’m so weak.

denki inhaled through his nose, exhaled through his mouth, trying to stop the trembling in his breath as he closed his eyes

he had done so much, and what did he get in return?

all he wanted was to be someone, to be someone that made people smile, to be someone that people genuinely wanted to see

did anyone even want to see him?

“i’m a failure, i’m a failure, what am i doing, why am i so weakwhat’swrongwithmewhycan’tidoanythingright-”

“good job, kaminari!”

he turned his head, finding you running up to him and waving your hands up in the air

“hey! pikachu!” you exclaimed, trying to catch your breath once you stopped. “great job up there! you left before anyone else could notice, i can’t believe you managed to do all that. your quirk is so cool!”

denki’s heart swelled with pride, his eyes saying nothing but thanks.

your quirk is so cool!

“thanks, y/n! so, how do you feel about going to the arcade after school?”

HITOSHI SHINSOU

hitoshi stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes blood-shot and head fuzzy

“i’m not a villain.” hitoshi said slowly. “i can’t be a villain. i want to be a hero.”

he splashed the sink water onto his face. “get yourself together, are you really going to let a few words hurt you?”

but hitoshi couldn’t help but feel that way-- what could he even use his quirk for- no, no, he could use it for so much. but...

“ha! a quirk such as yours should be only used for villains, you monster! you might as well get out of here before anyone else tries to kick you out.”

hitoshi screamed in anger, splashing the water across his face and pressing hard into his eyes, before slapping himself across the face

“get yourself together..”

“hey, shinsou!! i was wondering if-”

your eyes locked with his frustrated expression. “shinsou? is... something wrong?”

normally, he’d push you away, but-- but now, he really needed someone

your breath hitched when you saw his eyes land onto yours, but for some reason, there was something so lonely and upsetting behind them, before you remembered what a few students at ua had said.

you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were on a rush to get to school that morning and had to run ahead and pass through that area.

“if it’s about what some of those idiots said this morning, just... know that i think, for the record, that your quirk is so cool.”

shinsou’s eyes furrowed in confusion. you? you thought his quirk was cool?

“i’m not lying,” you said, as if reading through his thoughts. “i really think its amazing. you can help so many people with it, you can change the entire world with a quirk as special as that, so act like it! because it’s true, your quirk is really amazing, and i’m pretty sure you’re the only one who doesn’t see it, you knucklehead.”

he doesn’t tell you this, but-

ever since that day, he’s never stopped thinking about it.

🕭 reblog | comment | follow 🕭

hey bbys! reminder to go drink water if you’re reading this! water nourshies your sexc body and can make you feel a heck ton better ‘bout yourself-- and remember, whatever you did today was more than enough. ily very much, but if it’s past your bedtime, GO TO SLEEP KIDDO, ily!

qotd, what’s your favorite drink 👀

join my family!

list of family members: @kirishimuhhhhh, @xuxisushi-1, @kirishima-my-beloved, @msminsuga, @farfetchedparanoia, @satis-mangata, @moonhere, @renegadedeca, @viridevi <3

☂ requests are open for mha + hq!! ☂

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kurosukii · 4 years ago

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𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥

pairing: matsukawa issei x f!reader

summary: you’re so glad that you married a loving and doting man who cares for your child as if she’s his own flesh and blood; you just didn’t expect that his son would take a certain liking to you as well...

genre: smut, stepcest au

warnings: 18+. noncon/dubcon, pseudoincest (stepcest), somnophilia, dubcon cheating, milf reader, use of ‘mommy’ (not in the femdom way), creepy and possessive issei, slight voyeurism and exhibitionism, body image issues, corruption, manipulation, panty sniffing, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, spitting, degradation, praise, size kink, breeding kink, biting, nipple play, oral (f receiving), humping, cockwarming, cumplay, creampie, overstimulation, mating press, doggy style

word count: 6.4k

author’s note: for @karasunosimp‘s it’s raining milk collab! thank you for letting me join! hehe so it’s another stepcest au,,, also i’ve already written for 3/4 of the seijoh four EEK (let me know if i missed any warnings!) (MINORS DNI)

° thank you to @meiansmistress @ssrated1volleyballplayer @bokuroskitten @anime-nymph for beta-reading and editing! <33

[11:53 AM]

“have fun at the amusement park! stay safe and always listen to your dad, okay?” you say sweetly to your jumping daughter.

you giggle at her excitement, your heart and cheeks warming when you see her eyes twinkling with unbridled joy as she holds her stepdad’s finger with her entire hand.

“bye mommy! i’ll see you later when we get back! have fun with nii-chan!” she answers loudly, squealing when your husband picks her up and twirls her around as they walk down the path to the car.

you wave them off, returning inside and closing the door with a click. you wince at the sound, louder now that your daughter’s giggles and squeals are gone.

meanwhile, issei leans against the wall with his thick arms crossed as he shamelessly looks you over from head to toe. he slowly licks his bottom lip, clearly liking what he sees.

you’re now hyper aware of your bare nipples brushing against the fabric of your shirt, and paired with the flimsy linen shorts you’re wearing, the room definitely feels hotter with the sexual tension that’s permeating the air

sexual tension that you’ve been blatantly ignoring ever since you married into the matsukawa household.

“why are you always so nervous around me, mommy?” issei asks, feigning innocence. his eyes twinkle and lips stretch into a smirk when he sees your breath hitch.

you don’t bother to grace him with an answer, heavy lump forming in your throat as you speed walk past him and into the kitchen.

he chuckles at your reaction and pushes himself off the wall, following you as his eyes watch your swaying hips. issei is hungry and it has more to do with the woman in front of him rather than the steaming plate of food on the table.

after you’re done fixing up the table and finally take a seat, you pray to any higher being within earshot to ask for strength in dealing with your wayward stepson.

you really don’t like being alone with him and it’s not because you don’t want to be around him. it’s because you’re afraid of what he might do to you.

you weren’t born yesterday and you’ve lived a long enough life to know when a man is looking at you like he wants to spread your legs and pound you until you’re a writhing mess underneath him.

because that’s how issei looks at you and he’s not ashamed about it either. it genuinely shocks you because his father—your husband—can be in the room and issei will still undress you with his eyes.

you thought you were being delusional at first, ashamed at how you secretly accused your husband’s son of leering at and having inappropriate thoughts about you.

it turned out that you weren’t wrong, however, because you came home one afternoon to get something you left, expecting that no one would be there so imagine your shock when you passed by issei’s slightly opened door and heard him pleasuring himself.

you were about to run back downstairs until you heard him groan your name as he was stroking his cock. you choked out a gasp as you stood by his door. he was naked, tanned body glistening with sweat as he fucked his hand.

you couldn’t help but gape at his thick and long cock—bigger than your husband’s, as much as you were ashamed to admit—and you watched him for a few minutes, panties drenched with how much slick and pre-cum was leaking out of issei’s, for lack of a better word, horsecock.

your face burned when his hips jerked and he sprayed his cum all over himself, moaning your name long and hard as his body twitched from the stimulation.

needless to say, you went back to work with soiled panties and a hot face, not knowing that watching issei masturbate to the thought of you would be the turning point that led to the taboo relationship with your stepson.

the sound of utensils falling and clanging break you from your memories; your face burns at being caught red handed and you squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

issei apologizes for the disturbance and continues eating, never failing to wink every time you glance at him. he knows the effect he has on you and he relishes in it, teasing his stepmom endlessly.

he can’t wait to expose you for the little whore you actually are, and what better than to seize the opportunity of the both of you having the house all to yourselves?

“your little one and my dad are out bonding in the amusement park and i know for sure that they’ll be there all the way into the night,” he says, setting down his utensils and wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

the movement of his hands causes the many rings on his fingers to reflect against the light and he looks at you from under his thick lashes, brown eyes smoldering with shameless desire.

“so why don’t we do some bonding too?” he asks and chuckles when you choke on your food. he reaches for your cup of water and hands it to you, thick and ring-clad fingers brushing against yours as you take it from him.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you, mommy?” he whispers, his voice raspy and deep. you shiver at his sensual tone, fingers gripping the cup hard. you clear your throat loudly after swallowing, willing yourself to ignore his advances and innuendos.

“i’m tired, issei. i’m going to take a nap after eating,” you say sternly, glaring when he seems not to take you seriously. he laughs lowly, letting out an okay, whatever you say, before standing up and stretching.

your cheeks warm when he groans, similar to the one you heard before, and you jump out of your chair and begin to gather all the plates and leftover food.

“let me clean up, hmm? you did all the cooking and prepping. ” issei stops you with a large hand on your forearm. his skin is hot to the touch but his rings feel cool, the juxtaposition making you lightheaded.

he’s breathing down on you, large body covering yours while his intoxicating scent invades your senses. you shake your head and mumble out a garbled ‘thank you’ before you leave the kitchen and issei, practically sprinting up the stairs and towards the room you share with your husband.

you close the door once you’re inside, breathing heavily as you hear your heartbeat in your ears. damn him, you growl in your head. you ought to give him an earful about personal spaces and appropriate manners.

you sigh loudly as you walk to the dresser, intent on changing into your silky nightgown for your midday nap. you wear the garment to help you feel attractive, despite your age and changed body. you remove your shirt over your head and shiver when you see how hard and pebbled your nipples are.

even though your mind refuses to succumb to issei, your body is a whole different story. you wince when you remove your shorts and feel the dampness in your panties, making shame and guilt course through you as you put on your nightgown.

of all the people in the world, only your husband should make you feel this way. no one else, and certainly not his son. what would he think of you? what would your daughter think of you?

fuck, why are you even allowing yourself to think like this?

you know that if you ask issei to stop acting inappropriately towards you, he would listen—wouldn’t he?

you know the reason why you allowed this whole forbidden staring and teasing to go on for so long was because you felt lonely. which angers you, because you have a loving husband and you couldn’t ask for anything more.

but he didn’t exactly make you feel desired. sure, you’ve been intimate with him but he didn’t look at you the way you want to be looked at—like you’re the sexiest woman he’s ever seen. you feel ashamed, as if all the attention and love your husband gives means nothing to you.

as someone who has gone through major bodily changes, the ugly face of insecurity easily rears its head when you look at yourself in the mirror—but that doesn’t mean you regret having your daughter, not at all.

it’s just one of those things that has been ingrained in you and you find it hard to escape. which is why whenever issei looks at you with hungry eyes, you can’t help but feel wanted, desired.

it’s as if he doesn’t care about the extra weight you put on or the stretch marks on your body—no, he doesn’t care about any of that. you wouldn’t have believed it if it weren’t for his incessant teasing and the fact that he masturbates to the thought of you.

but you know it’s wrong, that it can never be. you sigh dejectedly as you lie down on the soft and cold bed, staring up at the ceiling. you have to talk to issei about this whole game and tell him to stop it before his father finds out.

and issei’s molten brown eyes are the last thing you think of before you finally close your eyes.

issei hums as he wipes his hands on the towel, looking in the direction you ran off. he smirks to himself as he puts back on his rings, body brimming with excitement and desire. time to pay you a visit.

he walks up the stairs, footsteps loud in the quiet house. he finds himself right in front of your door and leans his ear on the wood. he’s met with silence as he slowly turns the knob and enters the dimly lit room.

his eyes immediately find your sleeping form and he feels his cock stir in his pants, making the fabric tighten around his crotch.

fuck, you’re so god-damn beautiful.

long legs carry him over to you. he puts one knee on the bed, making it dip as his long fingers caress your cheek. his rings complement your complexion, his thumb and index finger lightly squeezing your parted lips.

he watches in fascination as your eyelashes flutter against your cheek and his cock twitches again when he hears your little whimper as he plays with your slightly damp lips.

his fingers continue their ministrations as his sharp eyes travel down your form, smirking when he sees your nipples poking through the silky fabric. to his delight, he notices your nightgown riding up your body, revealing the frilly white cloth of your panties.

he groans softly as his cock hardens and the bed dips even more as he puts his whole weight on it. he stops his movements on your face and maneuvers himself until his large body is over you.

his eyes burn holes through your panties and his breathing becomes heavier. god, he knows it’s wrong to touch and feel you up while you’re sleeping, but you’re so fucking breathtaking and he can’t help himself. after all, he’s been waiting for an opportunity like this to happen.

there’s a slight tremor in his hands as they hover over the exposed skin of your thighs. he lays them gently on your skin and he groans lowly in his throat. fuck, you’re so smooth and soft.

he squeezes them a few times before he gently pries your legs open, watching your reaction carefully in case you wake up. your breaths are still even and he takes that as a signal to spread your legs wider, raising them until your feet are planted on the bed.

he bites his lower lip to stifle his groan once he sees the wet patch on the center of your frilly panties. you’re such a fucking whore and he knows that it’s for him and only him.

he positions his body until he’s lying on his stomach, slightly rutting the bed to relieve the tension in his cock. his head moves between your legs, directly in front of your heated and covered pussy.

you stir slightly when you feel a breeze on your exposed skin, making issei stiffen. you settle down and he sighs in relief, thinking fuck it before he inhales the scent of your arousal.

he growls lowly in his throat at your smell, sticking out his tongue and licking a long and wet stripe up your covered slit. you moan softly, but that doesn’t deter issei from groaning into your cunt.

he raises his body and sits up on his haunches, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. he slowly pulls them down and his eyes practically glow as he sees your bare pussy for the first time.

his throbbing cock twitches when he sees a string of slick connecting your cunt to your panties. he gently lifts your hips and stretches your legs so he can remove the soiled underwear, watching your sleeping face carefully before positioning your legs again.

he knows he’s a disgusting man, but what can he do when you’re offering yourself up so sweetly to him?

he bunches the fabric in his hand, ringed fingers making an indent on the cotton as he brings it up to his nose, closing his eyes as he inhales deeply.

he growls at your fresh scent, his body tensing at the new wave of arousal that drenched your panties. he watches as you squirm and move around, rubbing your thighs together as you whimper quietly in your sleep.

his eyes flash. is his naughty stepmom having a wet dream? that explains why your panties feel wetter in his hand...

well, issei is nothing but a man who makes women’s dreams come true, and it just so happens that you’ve captured his attention—and quite frankly, his dick.

he throws your panties to the floor after a few more sniffs and quickly dives back between your legs. he’s up close to your naked pussy, pupils blown wide as he stares at your hole that’s clenching around nothing.

you’re wet but not wet enough by his standards, so he gathers all the saliva he has in his mouth and parts your folds with two thick fingers. he spits on your cunt, the little sound coursing through the quiet room.

he watches intently as the globule of spit slides down your lower lips and you shiver, moaning at the cold feeling between your legs. you squirm more as your mind gets filled with a certain haziness, unable to distinguish what’s real and what’s a dream.

throwing caution out the window, issei wastes no time and finds your clit, suckling it into the damp heat of his mouth. he groans at the taste of your pussy, his hips rutting the bed once more.

the vibrations from his lips make you moan loudly and arch into issei’s mouth. your eyes are squeezed tightly as you thrash around the bed, making you instinctively close your legs, squeezing issei’s head between them.

his hands grab your thighs, the cold rings on his fingers digging into your skin as he pries them open. he shakes his head with your clit in his mouth, making you cry out and tremble.

god, your dream feels so fucking real. you’ve never felt pleasure like this before and you love it. your fingers grip the sheets as you involuntarily roll your hips, following the motions of issei’s tongue and lips.

his chin is drenched with his saliva and your juices as the bed creaks from the rutting of his hips. frankly, he doesn’t care how loud and sloppy he’s being if it means you’re this responsive.

issei lets go of one thigh and moves his arm under him while his mouth continues to suck and lick your clit. he watches through his lashes as your chest rises and falls quickly, cute moans falling from your mouth.

the silk of your nightgown is dark with how heated your body is, your sweat dampening the fabric. your nipples are so hard that they’re poking through the garment.

his tongue flicks against your puffy clit as he slowly inserts two fingers—the ones that aren’t adorned with rings—into your leaking cunt.

the feeling of his long fingers inside your pussy makes you cry out and your toes curl from the full feeling. the new stimulation and volume of your pleasured sounds awakens you, your foggy eyes wide and confused.

you’re still groggy when you sit up and lean on your hands, your mind processing what’s happening when you realize that it wasn’t a dream at all.

no, it’s real and issei’s really between your legs, lapping away and fingering your aching pussy. your mind clears and you choke out a gasp in between your moans as you watch him in shock.

issei watches the emotions cross your face the whole time and his chest puffs out, his ego rising knowing that he’s the one doing this to you.

your frantic eyes meet his and he winks slyly. you tug at his hair ready to pull his head and mouth off of you because this is so wrong, but he beats you to it. his tongue swirls and flicks faster at your pulsing bud, his fingers increasing their thrusting.

now that you’re awake, he doesn’t have to care about his volume anymore so he lets out loud groans and grunts, the vibrations reverberating through you and making your pussy tingle.

“issei, t-this is wrong! s-top! stop!” you beg, voice immediately turning into a loud moan when he ignores you and bobs his head faster.

he moans to himself, knowing that your body is betraying you because although you’re begging him to stop, your hand is tugging his hair as you desperately fuck his face and fingers.

you taste so good that he can’t stop even if he wanted to.

“i-i mean it! get off—oh my god!” you scream when he gives your clit a hard suck. coupled with the squelching sounds and speed of his thrusting fingers, you cum all over his mouth.

you breathe heavily, face flushed and blissed out as you watch issei kiss your inner thighs before rising between your legs.

his mouth and chin are glistening with your cum and his pink tongue darts out to lick his lips clean of your juices, groaning as he meets your eyes.

you notice the dark patch on his crotch and your cheeks flame when you realize that he came the same time as you, but that doesn’t ease your worries because his cock is still hard and twitching.

once you regain some of your bearings, you realize what exactly just occurred and you let out a little scream as you try to scramble away from issei, shame filling your body.

he doesn’t let you get away from him, however, because he immediately pushes you on your back and crashes his swollen lips to yours.

you yelp at the sudden movement and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, grinding his hard cock on your wet and leaking pussy, further drenching the fabric of his pants.

you taste your essence as he massages his tongue with yours. you moan, tugging at his messy curly hair, trying and failing to pull him off you.

his hands find purchase on your thighs and he squeezes them, making you shiver at his cold rings. you whimper when he wraps your legs around his waist, grinding into you with a force harder than before.

your saliva mixes with his as the lewd clicking sounds of your mouths fill your ears. issei grinds on you one last time before he lifts his head from yours, lips separating with a trail of spit connecting them.

satisfied with kissing you, he stares at your face, gaze smoldering. you try to push him off you, but to no avail. he only tightens your legs around his waist as you struggle against him.

you suck in a breath as you feel the heat of his cock directly on your naked pussy. issei smirks lazily at you, tutting at you as if you’re inconveniencing him. your hands tug at his hair more, desperately trying to anchor yourself.

“if i had known your pussy tastes that sweet, my face would stay buried between your legs for the rest of my days,” he says suavely, his tongue darting out and licking his lips as he looks at yours.

you moan softly at his words and you’re now keenly aware of your nightgown sticking to your skin, making you uncomfortable as your nipples brush against the sweaty fabric. issei notices your discomfort and clicks his tongue.

“i think you’ve been hiding your pretty tits from me for far too long,” he whispers, his hot breath caressing your face. his hands move from your thighs and his fingers hook under the straps of your nightgown.

you shiver underneath him as his hands remove the sweaty fabric from your body, ring-clad fingers ghosting the sensitive skin of your arms.

you whine in distress as issei discards your nightgown somewhere behind him. you’ve never felt so exposed, your bare and glistening body being scrutinised by his dark eyes.

your insecurities start to get the better of you and you move your arms to cover your breasts and mound. issei stops you, large hands putting your arms back to your side.

“don’t hide from me, baby,” he whispers, his head dipping as he kisses the crook of your neck. his hands go to your chest and he palms both of your aching tits, squeezing and kneadingthe soft skin.

you moan, arching into the warm and cool feeling of his fingers. issei continues sucking and leaving marks on the skin of your neck as he whispers his thoughts.

“i know my dad doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked,” he claims, making you squirm under his body that’s still clothed.

shame momentarily disappearing, you claw at his shirt and pants. he chuckles at your impatience and his hands leave your breasts for a moment, removing his shirt in record time.

he gets off the bed and makes quick work of his pants, kicking them off and quickly returning to the bed—to you. he didn’t give you the chance to look at his hard cock—not that you needed to anyway, because you already know what it looks like.

you yelp when issei puts his arms around you and settles you down on his lap, giving you a clear view of his cock that’s bobbing against his defined abdomen.

you gulp, nervousness filling your body as you stare at his large cock. seeing it up close is absolutely different—it’s longer and thicker than any other dick you’ve ever seen.

issei’s ego rises as he watches you. he’s always been proud of his size but seeing you? the object of his and his dick’s affections sitting on his lap? well, that’s enough to boost any man’s ego.

“see what you do to me?” he asks, guiding your hand to his throbbing cock. you whimper when you hold his shaft, your hand barely wrapping around him. issei hisses at the feeling of your soft hand touching his sensitive skin.

“you’re so fucking sexy and i can’t stop thinking about how you’d look like bouncing on my cock,” he admits, urging you to stroke his dick faster.

you slowly pump his shaft and moan when you feel his fingers—the same ones from before—find your swollen clit, slowly circling the pulsing bud. your free hand squeezes his shoulder as his fingers move faster.

you squeal when he inserts two fingers inside your cunt, making your hand squeeze his cock. he groans in at the stimulation, making his abs clench.

“i-ssei!” you whine, head thrown back as he pumps his fingers into you faster. the squelching sounds of his fingers scissoring your insides causes a knot to slowly form at the pit of your stomach.

“gotta prep this pussy more, baby,” he says breathlessly, watching your slack-jawed face as you stroke and twist his cock.

“still so fucking tight, can’t wait to sink into you,” he grunts, moving your body so he can get a better angle at your g-spot.

“bet i can fuck you better than my dad ever will, mommy,” he growls, curling his fingers inside of you as he ends his sentence. you lurch forward and cry out, eyes fluttering at the pleasure.

“see? you want my cock—shit—so badly, huh? look at how your hand is squeezing and s-stroking me, fuck,” he stutters, feeling his orgasm approach. his free hand squeezes your hip, keeping your balance.

you shake your head frantically at his statement, still not admitting that you want this, want him.

“stop fighting it. i know you want me as much as i want you,” he grates, curling his fingers again and making you wail at the pleasure. your fingers twist and pump his cock, pre-cum leak from the tip. your hand feels warm and slick as you continue to jerk issei’s shaft.

“gonna cum baby, cum with me,” he whispers into your skin, breaths heavy as the slick sounds of your fluids fill the room.

your body is trembling and you know you’re nearing your orgasm once more. you bury your face in the crook of his neck, moans and whimpers falling from your lips.

“c-cumming, issei!” you scream when his thumb circles your clit just as he curls his fingers again inside your tight pussy, hitting your g-spot perfectly.

he follows after you, hot spurts of his cum staining your hand and arm. he groans and throws his head back as he feels the heat of his essence coat his abs and thighs.

he removes his fingers from your cunt and gently pushes you back on the bed. you yelp when issei grabs the back of your thighs and pushes them to your chest, folding your body in half.

“i’m going to fuck you until all you and i can hear in this house are your cute and sexy moans,” he growls, spreading your legs and baring your clenching hole to his dark eyes.

his cock bobs as he moves forward and he takes hold of his shaft, one long vein on the underside. he taps it a few times on your clit, making you whine and close your eyes.

you take a deep breath as he inserts the tip, body shaking as his large cock goes inside of you, inch by inch.

you open your eyes and claw at his arms when the stretch starts to become uncomfortable. you look down and gasp, eyes wide as you have a clear view of his fat cock splitting you.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls, squeezing your thighs as he slowly bottoms out.

“you’re so big, issei,” you moan, leaning your head back on the pillow as your eyes flutter at the feeling of his cock stretching your walls.

“mhmm, big enough to fuck you the way you want to be fucked, mommy,” he chuckles then groans when your cunt squeezes around him.

“fuck—do you like it when i call you mommy?” he growls when your tight walls clamp down on him again. you shake your head, a futile attempt in proving him wrong.

“who knew my mommy is so kinky,” he mocks you and before you can even reprimand him, his entire length bottoms out in one swift thrust.

“issei! fuck!” you scream, scratching his forearms as your back arches, toes curling at the sudden thrust.

you feel so fucking full. of all the cocks you’ve taken, issei’s definitely tops the list. you can feel every part of him, from the single vein to the throbbing of his length.

he groans loudly, squeezing your thighs so hard that his rings will definitely leave bruises later. he fights to controls himself, willing not to cum at the feeling of your pussy finally enveloping him.

he sucks in a breath and leans his forehead against yours, pulling out slowly, leaving only the tip of his cock inside your pussy. you whine at the loss, missing the way he stretches you.

he thrusts back in, bottoming out as his tip teases the entrance of your cervix. you cry out in both pain and pleasure, still trying to adjust to his size.

he stays still inside of you for a few seconds before he places his hands on the bed, your calves resting on his upper arms. he starts thrusting, moving in and out of your cunt.

you mumble incoherently, breasts bouncing with each thrust issei makes. you grab both of his wrists, squeezing them as the sounds of your skin meeting his fill your ears.

issei groans and hisses, panting heavily as he pounds your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. he leans down to your ear, licking the sensitive skin and making your shaking body tremble even more as you whine.

“bet you’re happy now, huh?” he whispers in between his groans, biting your earlobe.

“w-what do you—oh my god, issei!” you stutter, but then he fucks you harder and faster, making you keen and arch your back. he makes your body contort into positions you’ve never been in before—until now.

“do you think you’re quiet when you touch yourself during your late night showers?” he asks you in a condescending manner, smirking when you whine at his statement.

“i can fucking hear you when i go to the kitchen. you’re such a slut. moaning your stepson’s name, imagining that he’s the one who’s touching your pussy,” he growls as he buries his head in your neck, his hot breaths fanning your skin.

“but i guess i don’t have the right to talk, huh? i fuck my fist every night and imagine it’s your tight cunt wrapped around me,” he finishes, nipping away at your skin before his hands return the back of your sweaty thighs.

he slaps them, in sync with his thrusts, making you wince at the metal of his rings. your shaking arms reach for your ankles, setting everything on display for issei.

you’re loudly chanting his name like a prayer, pleasure running through every nerve in your body. for the first time in your life, you’re actually enjoying getting fucked silly—never mind that it’s your stepson who’s making you moan like a pornstar.

his thrusts are heavy and deep as he slowly toys with your clit and you jerk when his fingers draw circles on the aching bud. your body’s trembling harder than before, loud moans and whines falling from your open mouth as drool seeps from the corners.

“i-i’m gonna cum, issei!” you squeal as the sound of the headboard hitting the wall and the squelching noises coming from your pussy make the pit in your stomach slowly tip over.

“cum, baby. cum all over my fat cock,” he whines, throwing his head back as he jackhammers into you, his cock throbbing and his balls tightening as he prepares to empty himself inside of you.

“c-cumming i-issei! fuck!” you scream, your hands squeezing your ankles as your legs shake from your intense orgasm. your cunt is practically suffocating issei’s cock, making his hips jerk and stop.

his mouth falls open into a loud and heavy groan as he spills his hot and sticky cum inside of you. there’s so much cum that it leaks out of you and around his cock as it drips down to the drenched sheets below your bodies.

you finally set your shaking legs down as your trembling body aches from your folded position. issei falls on top of you, elbows on the bed as his sweaty face is smothered by your breasts.

his cock is still inside of you, twitching as more cum spills inside of your soiled pussy. your heavy breaths fill the cool air of the room as you recover, feeling disgusting at all sweat and cum on and in your body.

issei lifts himself off of you and pulls out of your cunt, making you both sigh and groan at the drag of his cock. your mixed fluids immediately trickle out of your pussy and you moan at the thick feeling.

issei furrows his brows as his fingers scoop his cum and quickly pushes it back. you whine as the tips of his fingers tease your hole, squirming away from him as your clit throbs from the overstimulation.

you’re kind of expecting him to roll over you and lie down but he shocks you—it’s evident with the way you yelp when flips your body over to your stomach, his large hands raising your hips until you’re kneeling on the sheets.

“i can’t fucking get enough of you, baby,” he says breathlessly, chest still heaving at the previous round. but it’s true, he really can’t get enough of you—not when he knows the taste and feel of your pussy.

“i-issei, i-i can’t,” you whine when he holds his cock and hovers before your dripping cunt. he doesn’t pay any heed to your whimpers, mostly because he knows you still want more of this, more of him.

“you say that but your pussy is telling me a different story,” he smirks and you can hear the condescension in his voice as his thumb rubs the sweaty skin of your hips.

he doesn’t give you any time to reply because he quickly sinks into you, your mouth falling open into a loud moan as his fat cock stretches you open once more.

fuck, even if you’ve already taken him, the stretch and ache still feels the same. he’s so fucking big that you know you won’t ever get used to his size, no matter how many times he fucks you.

he doesn’t waste any time and starts rolling his hips, his thighs loudly slapping against your ass. he hisses as one of his hands lie flat on your back, pushing it down to form a deeper arch.

“i know you saw me jerking off. did you like the show i put on for you, mommy?” he growls, his other hand gripping the back of your neck and smothering your face on the sweat-stained sheets.

you moan into the fabric when you hear the mocking endearment, your drool mixing with all the other fluids. your fingers bunch the sheets between them as the loud creaking and thumping of the bed fill your ears.

“i came so hard because i knew you were watching me work my cock,” he groans, thrusting hard and deep. your cunt squeezes his cock when you remember that afternoon. so all this time? he was shamelessly coaxing you towards him?

you huff, pride slightly damaged when you hear his admission. you’ll show him that he’s not the only one who can fuck like an animal.

you whimper when you spread your knees—which is a feat in itself because issei’s thrusts practically send your body flying forward. you moan when he hits your sweet spot, making tingles run down your spine.

you start meeting his thrusts, no longer letting him do all the pulling and jostling. his eyes flash when he realizes what you’re doing, which only encourages him to fuck you harder.

his hands palm your jiggling ass, leaving marks on your soft skin. you leave your head buried in the sheets, the sheets, stifling your moans and whines because if you don’t, —you’ll definitely make the walls shake with how loud you are.

“yeah that’s a good girl. fuck yourself on my cock, come on,” he coaxes you, deep voice raspy as his own body trembles at the pleasure of your walls clamping down on his cock.

“fuck—look at how your slutty cunt is taking me,” he growls when you roll your hips, the angle sending new waves of pleasure to the both of you.

“god, i wanna fuck you in front of my dad just so he knows that your pussy belongs to me,” he hisses, holding your hips as he takes control of the pace again.

his thrusts become sloppy and erratic, the loud slapping of skin a constant symphony as he maintains the fast pace. you turn your head to the side and breathe deeply, choking out a moan as he continuously hits your g-spot.

“want me to make you a mommy again? get your belly all swollen and round with my kid?” he says, voice shaking as his heavy balls slap against your skin. he’s close, he can feel it.

you’re close too, just a few more deep and hard thrusts and you’ll gush around his cock again. issei leans over your body, his chest covering the entire expanse of your sweaty back.

you squeal when your knees drop and you fall flat on the bed, your entire front rubbing against the sheets. you whimper shakily when your nipples brush against the soft fabric, the extra stimulation making your body jerk back against issei’s thrusting cock.

“issei! g-gonna c-cum a-again!” you squeal, voice shaking from how raw your throat feels. your moans increase in pitch and volume the nearer you get to your orgasm.

“fuck, your pussy feels like heaven!” issei groans, his own voice increasing in pitch and volume as well as he reaches his limit. you feel his cock swell and throb before thick and hot spurts of his cum coat your clenching walls.

“issei—oh my god!” you wail, cumming at the same time as him. your mouth stays open in a silent scream as you close your eyes tightly, cunt spasming as you drench his cock with your essence.

you wince when you feel the squelching of your mixed juices as issei rolls to his side, bringing you with him. both of you are quivering with pleasure and overstimulation, breathing heavy with your chests rising and falling rapidly.

his cock finally softens inside of you, clearly spent for the day. more cum falls out of your pussy, staining your sweaty bodies even more.

his parted lips find your neck, sucking and licking away at glistening skin. you whine, tilting your head, exposing more skin for him to mark.

you sigh tiredly, exhaustion finally catching up to you. you don’t really care that you’re dirty and soiled with sweat and cum—or the fact that issei’s dick is still inside of you. you just want to rest.

your eyes droop, ready to fall asleep enveloped in issei’s warm chest and arms, along with the wandering of his soft lips on your neck—until you hear a very familiar voice shout from downstairs, loud footsteps running up the stairs.

“honey! issei! we’re finally home!”

[3:47 PM]

@semisgroupie @kurinoot @rosesandtoshi @kinsurou

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maria-sand-22 · 7 months ago

Text

"Sadistic monsters,' Gwyn hissed as the three friends limped toward the water station, defeat heavy on their shoulders. 'We try again tomorrow,' Emerie swore, sporting a black eye thanks tot the swinging log that had knocked her on her ass before Nesta could grab her.

'We keep trying until we wipe that smug look off their stupid perfect faces.Indeed, Azriel and Cassian had just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and smiled at them the entire time.

Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. 'See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,' she tossed over a shoulder. Az stared after her, brows high with amusement.

When he turned back, Nesta grinned. 'You have no idea what you just started,' she said.

Az angled his head, hazel eyes narrowing as Gwyn reached the archway.

'Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?' Nesta winked and clapped the shadowsinger on the shoulder.

'You're the new ribbon, Az."

A Court of Silver Flames

"Do it for the miniature pegasus,' Emerie said.

Cassian had no idea what it meant, but Gwyn's lips twitched upward Nesta laughed..."

'He loved Gwyn most,' Emerie teased. 'Despite your efforts to woo him..."

ACOSF

"Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright, 'What do we get if we finish the course?' Az's shadows danced around him.

'Since there's no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn't bother to get a prize.

' Boos sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge.

'We look forward to proving you wrong."

ACOSF

' Gwyn whispered, "I am the rock against which the surf crashes." Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. "Nothing can break me." — Azriel went wholly still, as if he, too, had felt the shift. As if he, too, were aware that far larger forces peered into that training ring as Gwyn moved. '

ACOSF

' Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the house proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light up upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason ... he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. '

Azriel who rarely shows genuine affection to others smiling at the mere thought of Gwyn.

ACOSF

' he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer '

ACOSF

(Repost) Gwynriel have chemistry

Also it's a common theme with mates in the ACOTAR series for them to be drawn to one another, we see this with Rhys ('Maybe that's why i couldn't keep away'), Cassian ('Because i couldn't stay away'), Lucien ('That was all he wanted-to see Elain only once') and even Elain ('The half step she took towards the stairs-as if to speak to him. Stop him') however with Azriel we see that when when referring to Elain he had been 'keeping away from Elain as much as possible' but with Gwyn he 'found himself at the library beneath the house of wind' (to give her the necklace) and when his shadows do not warn him of her presence at the training ground.

"Another untalked about thing is when Cassian talks about Rescuing Nesta from the blood rite and tells Az: '"There are plenty of other unspeakable things that could be happening to her" Cassian said, voice thickening. "To Emerie and Gwyn." The shadows deepened around Azriel, his siphons gleaming like cobalt fire.' After the mention of Gwyn during the blood rite not only did his Shadows react (which have many different theories) but his siphons did too. Personally i believe because he's seen Gwyn be r*ped, Cassian suggesting that it could be happening again has reminded Az of that night (which that night he had acted irrationally, killing multiple soldiers without questioning them) and the shadows and siphons have reflected his hurt/anger whether he's aware of these feelings or not (cause mating bond bitches)."

"Is it following?" "No,but..." Gwyn's swallow was audible. "I can feel something. Like a cat. Small and clever and curious. It's watching." '

• In contrast to - ' His shadows peered over his wings at her. The young priestess smiled—and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows. '

Bitch i just know them shadows are spying on Gwyn.

' she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their scars '

• compared to - ' “Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate.” '

Elain is unaware of his brutal side. Gwyn has seen, heard and accepted it.

Gwyn, in the small time she has known him, has came to trust Azriel. This male who is inevitably associated with her worst memory, who saw her at her lowest, vulnerable and broken. Despite knowing and having seen with her own eyes what he can do, how ruthless he can be, she still sees him as someone worth her trust. She sees him for who he is, not the things he has done. And above all she trusts him. (Quote from @/faiurytale)

' He aimed for the trading pit — He found it already occupied. His shadows had not warned him. '

' Spent the rest of his day — with every intention of returning it to the shop in the palace of thread of Jewels — He found himself at the library — For whatever reason he could see it. '

The shadows alert him about everything. They warned him before Koschei made a move, you'd think they would warn him if someone was around but they didn't. I believe it's because they can detect the mating bond (can hear and feel things others can't) they are drawn to her, they do not need to be alert around their mate.

"In the bonus chapter when we have the scene of Gwyn and Az together at night with no one else around. This is Gwyn's first scene we know of alone with a male. Yet she wasn't uncomfortable, wasn't afraid and more importantly she laughed and talked with Azriel. They enjoy each others company despite neither one of them being the sociable types, both for different reasons. She even gave him an excuse to leave because she knows he likes to be alone, but he didn't take it. He thought about turning back and leaving before seeing whoever was in the pit, but when he saw Gwyn and she openly offered a way out—he decided to stay. He wanted to stay. As did she."

' Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright, "What do we get if we finish the course?" Az's shadows danced around him. "Since there's no chance in hell any of you would finish the course, we didn't bother to get a prize." Boo's sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge. "We look forward to proving you wrong l." — Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. "See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger," she tossed over her shoulder. — Gwyn to push her group harder. She wanted to be the first. Wanted Nesta and Emerie and her to be the ones who wiped the smirks from Azriel's and Cassian's faces. Especially Azriel's. — And when Gwyn reached the finish line, bloody and panting and grinning so wildly her teal eyes glowed like sunlit sea, she only extended her battered hand to Azriel, "Well?" '

TWO WORDS: THE CHEMISTRY

GWYN'S CONFIDENCE, THE FACT THAT THEY CHALLENGE EACH OTHER, JUST THEM.

' Cassian glanced over at Az, but his attention was fixed on the young priestess, admiration and quiet encouragement shining from his face. '

(When Gwyn cut the Ribbon, set after the bonus chapter scene) He's proud that he taught her 😭

' Azriel laughed. "I'll give you that." Gwyn smiled broadly. "Thank you." Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. '

The shadows rn: mom???

' Pure amusement glittered in her stare. So he offered her a crooked smile. '

' Gwyn let out a high pitched noise that was nothing but pure excitement. Azriel, on the other side of the ring with the rest of the priestesses, half-turned at the sound, brows high. '

' Azriel had winnowed her and Cassian here after training, but hadn't lingered. Apparently, Gwyn wanted him to go over dagger handling, so he'd left them with a promise to return in one hour. '

They spend time together in private ^

' She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. "Do you though?" She pressed. "Sing?" Azriel couldn't help his soft chuckle. "Yes." '

Az openly sharing info about himself???? since when??

' He nodded to Gwyn and Emerie, the former glancing toward Azriel, who watched din silence. '

' Gwyn again glanced to Azriel, who drifted closer. '

These little unnecessary sentences while we're still in Nesta/Cassian POV 😩😩

In conclusion. Gwynriel.

<<< I want to give loads of credit to @/deargwyn on instagram, they post tons of quotes/theories/headcanons on there related to Gwyn and Gwynriel, some of which i've used in this post. Go check out their insta if you want more Gwynriel evidence >>>

My most blunt, controversial ACOTAR opinions. Nothing is safe, nothing is sacred. Mind the tags for your own peace of mind please.

P.S.: Absolutely not directed at any other blog/person specifically. Just general fandom/shippers.

Elriel/Gw*nriel:

Gwyn is not that important of a character. She is a secondary character whose main purpose in the story was to be Nesta’s friend. She has no connection to any overarching plot. She could literally never be seen again in the books and all the main plot points would still work.

People have inflated Gwyn’s character and importance solely because they ship her with Azriel. And they ship her with Azriel because 1. She is the only other single female character (besides Elain) that he has interacted with. 2. Gwyn is enough of a blank slate for people to project/self insert themselves into and thereby romance themselves with Azriel 3. Gwyn has only been shown in a positive light, with only positive personality traits (good friend and can wield a sword) so there’s no REAL controversy on her character/personality. Because there’s not enough to actually have any controversy.

If Gwyn was actually that important, Emerie would also be as important, if not more so. But 90% of time Emerie is forgotten by the fandom. Even to the point that the theory of an Illyrian plot is somehow given to Az and Gwyn, rather than Emerie. The two people that, arguably, have the least skin in the game concerning that theory. And the reason Emerie is this pushed out of her own potential story line is because she isn’t shipped with Azriel or another Fae male.

If there was no Bonus Chapter Gw*nriel would not exist. Or at the VERY least, it would be acknowledged as the crackship that it is. Because outside of the BC, there is nothing in the main ACOSF to accurately ship them to the degree that the fandom does. Elriel, however, still has several books where canon scenes have taken place. The BC is absolutely not needed to show that Elriel have feelings for each other, we already knew.

“Well Elain gave by TruthTeller, so Elriel isn’t end game!” Is one of the stupidest reaches I’ve seen. TruthTeller was always, OBVIOUSLY, meant to be something lent to Elain for the war. It wasn’t a permanent gift, and Az didn’t say it was. He said he wouldn’t use it TODAY, implying he would expect to use it again in the future. Imagine -

“Well Gwyn gave back the books Nesta recommended to her, so they obviously aren’t friends.”

Thats what y’all sound like. It’s just purposely misinterpreting things in a scene that obviously aren’t there for the sake of your ship. It’s disingenuous and not at all the win you think it is.

You cannot call Azriel an incel/fuck boy for Elain and then ship him with Gwyn in the same breath. If he’s all those things with Elain, he’ll be the same for Gwyn. She is not magically going to make him “better” or a gentleman. Actually, he’s already a gentleman. He just didn’t have sexual thoughts about Gwyn and y’all can’t stand it.

Same vein, but if Azriel had had those sexual thoughts in the BC about anyone else besides Elain there would have been no issue/debate.

If a Gw*nriel book did somehow happen, it would 1000% be for fan service/peer pressure. No previous books have set it up, even the main story in ACOSF. Elriel has been setting up since book 2. It makes sense. Anyone who says it doesn’t just doesn’t want it to happen, mostly because they don’t like Elain. And that’s also mostly because they can’t see themselves in Elain, so they lash out.

Saying Elriels are delusional is the wildest thing, because Elriels have the most canon scenes spread throughout the books, Elain and Azriel have interacted with each other positively the most and the longest, and they are the only potential couple that actually bluntly like each other. They exist outside of misinterpreted bonus chapters and “what if” theories with no real backing.

Elain:

Whether anyone wants to admit it or not, part of the Elain hate IS misogyny. The amount of hate this character receives, compared to what she has actually done in the series, is entirely undeserving. She has received the same level of hate, if not more, than Tamlin, any of the ACOTAR villains, and Nesta, who is still a very controversial character. And for what? Liking Azriel, and not wielding a sword while doing it, apparently.

Elain liking flowers does not determine who she’ll end up with. For fucks sake we didn’t know Nesta liked to read smut or was great dancer until her book. And neither of those things determined her partner. It’s just what she likes. Same with Elain.

Nessian/ACOSF

The idea that Nesta will leave Cassian and make her own court is stupid.

Being anti-ACOSF but Pro-Nesta is a streeeeeetch, because all of Nesta’s actual good character development came from ACOSF. Like, did you like that she was angry and unhealed before? Because that’s where she would still be without all that happened in ACOSF.

People don’t understand the intervention that HAD to happen with Nesta in ACOSF. And I would even venture to say that most people against it have never HAD to have a real intervention with someone to that level. The level of, go to rehab/therapy or you are not allowed to be in my house/take up my resources. Because you will not get better on your own, you will only hurt yourself or others and I won’t enable you anymore. It’s a difficult decision that but often it is NECESSARY. Speaking as someone with several addict family members.

El*cien/Lucien:

All the theories about an El*cien plot line are completely focused on Lucien, and ignore everything built up with Elain. It’s always about Lucien figuring out his heritage, becoming some High Lord of one of the courts, or something with the Band of Exiles. Elain doesn’t have to be involved for any of that to happen. She’s pushed to the side in her own romantic story line. Nothing about her Seer powers, or the fact that she’s apparently been gaining spy abilities, or her place at the Night Court.

Lucien fans make me hate Lucien more than Lucien ever could.

The poor Lulu mindset can die.

While we’re at it, the theory that Elain likes Lucien so much that she avoids him is also stupid. That makes no sense. She loses her boldness around. She got better WHEN HE LEFT. All of Elain’s most powerful moments are when Lucien isn’t around. And that says something.

People cling to 1st book Lucien so much, but he has not been that way SINCE book 1.

Tamlin:

Tamlin already got a redemption arc when he brought Rhys back to life. He doesn’t need another one, and he certainly doesn’t need a full book.

The Tamlin/Elain ship is stupid and only benefits Tamlin, not Elain. Once again placing Elain to the side of her own romance, much like El*cien.

ACOTAR:

If you hate everyone in the IC, you don’t actually like ACOTAR. They’re the majority of the books, including half of ACOSF. And it’s actually really stupid to hate the IC and still pretend you’re an ACOTAR fan. Because, again, the IC is the MAJORITY of ACOTAR. Please read something you actually like.

If you hate the entire main story and main characters of ACOTAR, but like one or two characters, you don’t like ACOTAR. You see yourself in a character, and want the story to reflect what YOU want to happen to that character (ie, yourself), and can’t handle that it didn’t. You don’t actually like the ACOTAR series. Again, maybe it’s time to read something else.

3 Acherons x 3 Bat Boys isn’t cliche. It’s a pattern. It’s a literary motif. It’s a theme. It is a pattern that SJM has naturally set up, the fact that you can see and assume that Elriel would be apart of that just means you can recognize basic literary devices in a fantasy novel. Which is the POINT.

I have no intention of debating anything. I’m just stating my opinions on my blog, like everyone else gets to do. So take that as you will.

Anyways, thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

#acotar #acosf #elriel #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #elain archeron

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it. you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though. After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all? Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared). He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did. Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered. The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed. You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him. You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him. Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around. You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention. If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers. With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk. Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter. “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded. By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous. Idiotic. A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you. “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged. “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing? “Thank you. I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense. But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?” His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious. “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him. He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression. His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore. “I’m here, aren’t I? Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that? I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me. It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm. “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium. Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course. And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar. “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time. You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there. Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen. And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds. You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit. All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything. The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex. As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd. Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway. It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted. “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were. But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck. “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear. “Can you do that for me? Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped. “I can take it! Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head. “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on? Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers. You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you. Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly. You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point. "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly. He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air. He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive. The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed. He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss. Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him. Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing. His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately. "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.” It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet. But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear. You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly. "Oh, you like that idea, hm? You want to be full of my come? Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast. You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated. As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade. Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks. No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair. It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks. If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry. I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed. He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye. “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss. And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again. He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss. Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss? But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class? Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it? And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios. You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him. And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now. The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class. As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options. There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself. Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable. Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned. "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk. Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was. “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed. “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice. You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly. “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed. “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly. "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours. And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel. “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed. "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again. "A man can only take so much. I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked. "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist. Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod. It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag. “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened. Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded. “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.” He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips. “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs. “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair. He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit. Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way. I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed. "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear. "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me. Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut

2K notes · View notes

reyescarlos · 2 years ago

Text

my mirror staring back at me || a tarlos fic

summary: TK likes what he sees when Carlos is in the shower, so Carlos gives him something to watch.

word count: 4.1k || rated e || day 6 of @fivealarmfest || read on ao3

Aren't you somethin' to admire? 'Cause your shine is somethin' like a mirror And I can't help but notice You reflect in this heart of mine

From early on, one of TK’s favorite things about living with Carlos has been how easily the domestic life suits them. From the condo to the loft, from boyfriends to husbands, sharing space with Carlos has always been organic.

In big and small ways, the gratitude he feels to the universe for bringing them together like this hits him. Like now, on an unremarkable Tuesday night as they get ready for bed, TK finds himself getting swept up in his thoughts as he washes his face.

Their wedding bands sit in the small dish on the counter in the bathroom. It does something to his heart to see them there together like this. The novelty of being Carlos’ husband has yet to lessen over the last couple of years and TK doubts that it ever will.

Every day since they both stood before their families and friends and uttered the words “I do”, TK has felt as if he’s been living inside of a dream. The fact that this is real, that he gets to have something this good for the rest of his life never ceases to amaze him.

He shakes himself a bit and turns on the faucet. He lets the water run for just a few seconds before beginning the work of washing the cleanser off.

His eyes wander from his own face to the other view in the mirror.

He can see Carlos’ silhouette through the glass and steam of the shower. He can picture all too clearly what Carlos must look like in there, sudsy and sopping wet. It’s a sight he’s had the pleasure of seeing on multiple occasions over the years.

He’ll be on best behavior now, he vows. He’ll give Carlos his own personal time to get clean before bed. He’ll fight every instinct he feels right this second to push open the door and join him.

TK forces himself to look away, blaming the sudden surge of horniness on the temperature in the room. It’s extremely warm and heady and it’s been a long day. Plus, he’s only human. He doubts he can truly be faulted when his husband looks the way he does.

TK splashes water on his face and grabs his face cloth, patting his skin dry.

He can still see Carlos’ figure in the mirror as he looks at himself and is all too relieved when the water shuts off a few moments later.

That relief is short lived once he’s met with Carlos’ wet naked body stepping out, his skin a bit pink in some areas where either he scrubbed too hard or the hot water got to him. TK wants to run his tongue like a salve along those spots to soothe the skin. Just the thought alone makes his own body feel hot.

Carlos runs a hand through his wet hair, brushing his curls off his forehead.

TK watches a rivulet of water make its way down from Carlos’ collarbone to his chest. He tracks the course it takes through the groove of his pecs and down his abdomen. It gets lost in the tuft of hair between his legs.

TK swallows hard as his cock stiffens.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been staring for until he looks back up at his reflection and finds Carlos eyeing him thoughtfully.

TK clears his throat, his face flushing pink. Carlos walks over to him, still dripping wet and completely ignoring his towel hung up just outside the shower. TK takes advantage once more of the mirror and watches Carlos’ naked body as it comes up behind him, and Carlos kisses him softly behind the ear.

“Hello there. Saw something you liked?” Carlos whispers and TK can feel his pulse quicken at once from his tone of voice and proximity.

He barely manages a semblance of a nod, a lump seemingly lodged in his throat. Carlos nudges his neck playfully with the tip of his nose.

“My love, I asked you a question. Did you see something you liked?” he repeats slowly, gripping TK’s hip as he traps his earlobe between his teeth.

“Yes,” TK rasps, breath catching as Carlos’ hand moves from his hip to between his legs.

“Oh god,” he chokes out, gripping the edge of the counter.

Carlos isn't shy about touching him, no doubt pleased with himself with how quickly TK is surrendering to him. He squeezes TK over the material of his boxer briefs, thumb brushing against the head of his hard cock.

“Oh, I can tell you did. You liked it a whole lot.”

TK’s face flushes even further.

“It’s all your fault. You have no business being this sexy. It’s really unfair.”

Carlos chuckles and tilts head. “Ah, so you’re a victim. Is that what I’m hearing?” he asks, skimming his fingers along TK’s shaft as if testing to see just how hard he is.

“I didn’t do anything. I simply stepped out of the shower. Same as I do every day.”

TK snorts. “Yeah, looking like some kind of god sent here to wreck me. What’s a man to do? Not gawk? Not appreciate every square inch of your body?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Carlos laughs. It rumbles in his chest; TK can feel it against his back where they’re pressed together. It’s a playful sound that’s now at complete odds with what his hand is doing as it dips into TK’s boxer briefs and takes hold of his bare cock.

TK gasps, his hips instantly snapping forward into the warmth of Carlos’ hand.

“Babe…,” he cautions, trailing off. He feels heat crackling in the pit of his stomach.

“Is something the matter?” Carlos asks, his voice syrupy sweet and innocent as the pad of his thumb smears the bit of precum leaking at TK’s tip.

“Screw you. You know what you’re doing,” TK hiccups, no bite in his words, just sheer desperation.

Carlos doesn’t say a word, just smirks and hums softly. He rubs small circles against TK’s shaft and sucks on TK’s earlobe. Carlos’ hand doesn't still, even as he lets out the airiest of moans that makes TK’s cock throb in response.

TK’s jaw clenches as he looks at them in the mirror. He looks wrecked already and they’ve barely gotten started.

Carlos runs his free hand across TK’s chest and pinches one of his nipples, rolling the nub between his fingertips. TK’s toes curl at the move. Carlos knows all his weak spots.

He’s taking his time, painfully so. Carlos has always been a little too good at taunting him like this, bringing him to the edge of his patience before TK flat out begs for it.

Luckily, TK isn’t above such things.

“Baby, please. I need it,” he says, catching Carlos’ eye in their reflection. “Just have me.”

He sees the uptick at the corner of his husband’s mouth.

“Need or want?” Carlos asks, still making no effort to rush as he sets a tortuously slow pace on TK’s cock.

“Both,” TK grits impatiently, thrusting forward into Carlos’ palm again, attempting to goad him into going faster or being more deliberate with his strokes.

Carlos kisses the back of his neck, peppering his skin with it as he presses his erection against TK who grinds over it immediately. Carlos mutters a curse and TK takes satisfaction in knowing Carlos is just as much on this razor’s edge as him.

Carlos slips his hand out and TK actually pouts.

“I can’t fuck you if you’re still wearing these,” Carlos says, snapping the waistband of TK’s boxer briefs against his hip.

TK’s stomach somersaults. He hurries to rid himself of the offending garment, kicking it aside the moment it touches the ground.

Carlos runs an appraising hand down the length of his spine and TK’s back arches to his touch, the same way a sunflower does to rays of sunshine. It’s just natural, this pull between them. It has never mattered when or where they are, his body instinctively falls into step with Carlos’.

TK sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as Carlos’ fingers brush against his rim. He feels the muscles in his lower abdomen tighten at once. He’s downright needy now with his desire to feel those fingers buried inside him.

Carlos rummages through the top drawer and TK spreads his legs a bit wider, watching as Carlos flicks open a bottle of lube.

He bites back on his lower lip once more as Carlos begins to work him open. He’s eager, but he relaxes his body, wanting to savor every second of this prep. His eyes flutter closed as Carlos gets his finger in knuckle deep in his ass and pulses the digit inside him.

“Fuck,” TK rasps, rolling back against Carlos’ finger. “That feels so good.”

He’s so keyed up he feels desperate for any bit of Carlos he can have.

“Just you wait,” Carlos says against his ear as he adds a second finger.

TK thrusts back onto Carlos’ hand, moaning his husband’s name as Carlos curls his fingers inside him, striking him just right. TK groans, riding Carlos’ fingers as a third one is added.

“Please, baby. I’m ready. I’m so fucking ready,” he whines. “Take me.”

Heat flashes in Carlos’ eyes as kisses TK’s temple and slides his fingers free. He aligns himself perfectly with TK’s entrance, the head of his cock slipping in with the greatest of ease. TK’s eyes roll shut as Carlos’ length gradually fills him, his head lobbing forward.

The feel of Carlos inside him is indescribable. They’ve been at this for years, and it always feels like the first time each time they’re together. He squeezes his eyes together tightly, his body awash in pleasure as he thrusts back on Carlos’ cock.

“Open your eyes,” Carlos says authoritatively, right into his ear. “I want you to watch yourself and see how well you take it.”

The command sends a thrill through him, goosebumps rising all over his arms and torso despite the heat in the room.

It takes TK a few seconds, but he does as he’s told. He watches the way his mouth falls open as Carlos drives into him sharply. His face is the picture of bliss, color rising in his cheeks and chest. He’s equal parts bashful and aroused by the image in front of him.

“You see why I can’t get enough of you? So goddamn beautiful, so fucking hot,” Carlos grunts.

TK’s gaze slips at those words and Carlos is quick, tilting him back to face his reflection.

“Watch. Don’t take your eyes off yourself, you hear me?” Carlos says, his hips meeting with TK’s ass.

TK manages to nod, not trusting himself to have a voice right now. Carlos fills his ear with even more dirty talk. TK whimpers as Carlos crashes into him again and again.

TK lowers his hand and touches his own cock. He’s been leaking this whole time, so turned on that his body can’t help but to react to all the stimulation.

His hand moves with such ease over his shaft given how wet he is. His jaw drops a bit more. Behind him, Carlos’ gaze in the mirror is unwavering and carnal. It sends the most delicious chill down TK’s spine. He returns his gaze solely on himself, watches in awe at the way the pleasure he feels translates to his expressions.

It’s interesting to see himself like this, the view Carlos has had since the first time they hooked up years ago all the way through now.

He looks absolutely depraved and it stirs something within him to an insane degree to watch himself get fucked.

TK turns his head, seeking out Carlos’ mouth, desperate for more of him. They find each other at once. TK kisses him messily, biting and tugging on Carlos’ lower lip as he pulls away. Without needing to be told, he looks at his reflection immediately.

“Shit,” he hisses. He can feel himself losing the battle to keep going.

“Can you..,” TK trails off, not even sure how to ask for what he needs just then.

He guides Carlos’ hand to lightly wrap around the base of his neck, applying the faintest amount of pressure. It releases something in him he can’t quite explain.

A moan so primal and deep breaks out from his mouth, surprising the both of them. Carlos tells him just how good he’s being, how much he loves the sounds TK makes.

“You’re right there, I can feel it,” Carlos says as TK thrusts back on his cock hurriedly.

There’s no finesse to it as he feels his orgasm come barreling through. He almost looks away, almost drops his head as his climax washes over him, but Carlos’ hand on his neck keeps him trained to look forward.

TK has never once thought about what he looked like when he orgasmed, but now the image is seared into his brain. It’s not a bad sight at all.

Carlos must agree as he comes with one final sharp thrust a few seconds later and a grunt in TK’s ear, his release filling his hole. The warmth of it leaves TK breathless and his knees weak. But Carlos wraps an arm around him and keeps him upright against his body, sturdy enough for the both of them just then.

They stay frozen for a moment, their breaths coming out heavy and uneven. Carlos rests his forehead on TK’s shoulder briefly before looking at him in the mirror.

“So good for me,” Carlos mutters.

TK smiles at him in the mirror, happy as always to know he’s pleased Carlos, and quickly washes his release off his hand.

Carlos pulls out and TK whimpers at the loss. He grips the edge of the sink as Carlos places kisses against his shoulder blades and the base of his neck. TK licks his lips and turns on the spot, capturing Carlos’ mouth with his own. He can barely breathe, but it hardly matters. He needs Carlos’ lips more than air right now.

The kiss is rough and messy, much like the sex they’ve just had. He can feel Carlos’ cum running down the backs of his thighs, but he’s in no hurry to get cleaned up now, to rid himself of it. If anything, it just turns him on more. It makes him feel claimed and serves as evidence of what they’ve just shared.

He gets his fingers into Carlos’ hair, this new position allowing him to grab two fistfuls of the dark and damp curls. He yanks, relishing in the moan that rips from his husband’s throat at the gesture.

Carlos kisses him back just as sloppily, backing TK up against the wall and rutting against him. TK cries out, his cock spent, but the sensitivity drives him mad in the best way. He seeks out friction again, gasping into Carlos’ mouth before slipping his tongue inside.

He toys with Carlos’ tongue, sucking it softly. Carlos’ fingers hold on almost bruisingly to his hips as he grinds against him.

The room fills with their ragged breaths and moans as TK hitches up a leg and wraps it around Carlos’ waist. He feels both them reacting to each other, their cocks hardening as they get lost in one another. With Carlos, he’s outright insatiable and it’s clear the feeling is mutual.

“You’re rearing for round two already, huh?” Carlos pants against his lips. “Think you could take me again so soon?”

“I want it,” TK says breathlessly. He resumes the kiss, nails digging into Carlos’ shoulders as he shifts his hips, shivering as Carlos’ dick brushes against his balls.

His head spinning at the thought of getting fucked once more. He wants it so desperately and he’s certainly loose enough for it still.

He pulls back to take in a clean breath, his lungs feeling like they’ve caught fire.

“I love feeling full because of you. I miss your cock already,” he says with a shrug, tracing his fingertips along Carlos’ pecs as he leans back against the wall.

He dips his head and traps one of Carlos’ nipples between his teeth, wrapping his tongue around the nub as it hardens. He spends a few seconds sucking the sensitive flesh. Carlos’ hand lands on the back of his neck, massaging gently. TK switches to the other side and does the same, his hands holding steady to Carlos’ sides.

“If I had it my way, I’d be getting fucked by you 24/7,” he murmurs in between the kisses he places on Carlos warm skin. “Forget eating, drinking, everything else. All I want is you inside me.”

He isn’t shy in the least bit in being vocal about the things he likes.

They’ve been married a little over two years now and everything between them still feels brand new, the honeymoon phase very much alive and well.

TK peers up at him through his lashes and Carlos curses low under his breath.

“You have no idea what you do to me when you look at me like that,” Carlos murmurs.

On the contrary, TK knows exactly how much it gets Carlos riled up. He’s banking on it now to heighten matters even further.

Carlos runs his thumb across TK’s bottom lip before pressing the digit to TK’s chin and guiding his mouth open.

TK doesn’t hesitate and sucks Carlos’ finger into his mouth, tasting the saltiness of Carlos’ sweat. They’re both absolute hot and sticky wrecks, but TK is so aroused by it, he feels as if he could just burst.

Carlos watches hungrily as TK makes a show of sucking his thumb, swirling his tongue around the finger like it’s Carlos’ dick and moaning so loudly it practically echoes off the walls.

He lowers his hands, letting his fingers rake down Carlos’ back and to his ass. He squeezes roughly, kneading the supple flesh and thrusting forward, his cock rubbing against Carlos’ tight abs. The friction feels good even though he’s still sensitive. There’s something a bit addictive, especially the soft sounds it pulls out of Carlos.

Carlos slips his finger out of TK’s mouth, his eyes dark as he puts a hand on TK’s shoulder and pushes down gently. TK doesn’t need any instruction beyond that; he gets the memo at once.

He’s already shown how good he is with having something in his mouth right now. It only feels right to graduate to the real thing.

He settles on his knees before Carlos, once again looking up at him through his lashes. Carlos bites back on his lower lip.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he rasps and TK feels himself blush a bit at the compliment. He wonders if there will ever come a day when words like that from Carlos won’t make him light up. He surely hopes not.

TK licks a long languid strip along Carlos’ slick cock, whimpering at the taste of Carlos’ release from before. He places his hands on the back of Carlos’ legs and zeroes in on his glorious thighs first.

He nibbles softly, sinking his teeth in just a bit and sucking little marks against his smooth skin before shifting his focus to the very tip of Carlos’ cock. He lets his tongue tease the slit with soft licks before he slackens his jaw and takes Carlos into the wet heat of his mouth.

Carlos’ fingers rifle through his hair, tugging occasionally at his roots as he rocks forward. TK’s cock feels heavy between his legs, but he dials into Carlos solely, maintaining eye contact as he takes him down to the hilt and back out again. Carlos whimpers at his ministrations and TK is quick in swallowing Carlos’ length once more, cheeks hollowing around him.

His husband fucks into his mouth and TK feels Carlos twitch against his tongue as he rolls the muscle along the underside of Carlos’ shaft.

He knows Carlos could easily come from this.

“Christ,” Carlos hiccups, jerking back and slipping himself out of TK’s mouth. He grips the base of his cock immediately, his eyes squeezing shut for a second. TK wouldn’t mind at all if Carlos were to come in his mouth just then, but the promise of feeling that load in his ass instead outweighs all else.

TK smirks and gets to his feet at once. He immediately goes back to the sink and bends over, putting himself shamelessly on display.

“Fucking hell, TK,” Carlos pants as he coats his entrance one more time.

TK bites back on his lower lip as Carlos’ fingers meet no real resistance. Carlos teases his prostate and TK’s body, so much like a live wire now, twitches. He steadies himself by holding onto the sink’s edge.

A whispered “perfect,” is the last thing TK hears before Carlos pushes into him and the room fills with the sound of flesh pounding against flesh.

They’re both spent and exhausted and TK isn’t expecting this to last long at all, but it feels so good to be stuffed with Carlos’ cock again. He’s grateful for having tomorrow off. He’s not so sure he’ll be able to walk without giving it away what they’ve gotten into tonight.

TK lowers a hand, ready to tighten a fist around his cock and relieve himself, but Carlos nudges it away gently with his own and takes a hold, pumping in time to meet with his thrusts.

TK tips his hips up, eyes watering as Carlos strikes against his prostate. He lets out a choked sound and a few seconds later, he cries out Carlos’ name as he comes for a second time, spilling all over his husband’s fist.

Carlos follows him over the edge a beat later, once more filling TK up with his release. TK shudders, a desperate, wounded sound leaving him as the heat spreads in his ass.

Carlos kisses across his shoulder blades, a bracing hand on TK’s hip to keep them both steady.

TK stands upright then, almost unable to recognize himself in the mirror. His hair is mussed from earlier and in complete disarray, his pupils blown, mouth a harsh red. His chest heaves, eyes so wild as he takes in everything.

Carlos looks at him too, gently rubbing his sides before burying his face in the crook of TK’s neck. He leaves soft kisses on TK’s hot skin that make his already erratic heartbeat thump faster. Carlos is still buried inside him and the slightest shift of his hips makes TK let out a quiet sob.

“Nice and full?” Carlos murmurs against the shell of his ear.

TK’s throat feels too hoarse to even speak. He hums quietly in response, shivering as Carlos pulls out slowly. Carlos lowers one hand to TK’s ass, fingers gently probing before stuffing him, keeping his release inside of him.

TK licks his lips and tries to settle his breathing. He feels almost delirious. He doesn’t know how he’s still standing.

“God, it’s so sexy seeing you like this,” Carlos says with a sigh. With his free hand, he rummages through one of the drawers and extracts something TK can’t quite see.

“As much as I’d like to watch you dripping because of me,” he continues, “I want you to keep the feeling a little while longer.”

TK sees just then a quick flash of a plug before Carlos moves his hand and lets the device take the place of his fingers. It’s not as satisfying as Carlos’ cock, but it’s the next best thing.

TK turns then and kisses Carlos heatedly, pressing his body flush up against him, arms draping over Carlos’ shoulders, hands settling at the base of his neck. His thumbs brush along his smooth skin.

“You spoil me,” he murmurs against his lips.

Carlos smiles at him, the high color in his face so bright and beautiful, TK can hardly stand to look directly at him, but he does anyway.

“You deserve it. You were incredible.” Carlos rubs his palm on the side of TK’s ass and looks at him softly.

“I’ll let you keep the mess in there, but the rest of you needs to get cleaned up now.”

Carlos pecks his lips one last time before tugging TK towards the shower with him.

“I expect you to be very, very thorough then. A deep clean from top to bottom,” TK says, as Carlos on the faucet.

Carlos smirks and snakes an arm around TK’s waist, pressing their chest squarely against each other’s .

“I promise, I’ll leave no part of you untouched.”

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