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pucksandpower · 22 days

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Made with Love

Charles Leclerc x amateur baker!Reader

Summary: in which Charles would rather risk the entire paddock getting food poisoning (again) than break your heart by telling you that your baking is horrible

You hum to yourself as you pull a tray of freshly baked cupcakes out of the oven. The sweet, chocolaty aroma fills Charles’ kitchen, making your mouth water.

This batch is sure to be perfect! You’ve been practicing your baking skills for months now, determined to get it just right.

Charles wanders into the kitchen, drawn by the scent. “Mmm, something smells good in here!”

He peers over your shoulder at the tray of cupcakes. They’re a bit misshapen, with cracked tops that deflated the second they were taken out of the oven. The frosting is glopped on unevenly.

To you, they look absolutely mouthwatering. To Charles, they look … well, he loves you too much to say.

“Try one!” You urge, holding out a cupcake. Charles flashes you a hesitant smile before taking it. He peels back the liner and takes a bite. His eyes widen and he forces himself to chew and swallow.

“Well? How is it?” You ask eagerly.

Charles clears his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s great. Your best batch yet,” he lies. In truth, it’s dry and dense, with a strange bitter aftertaste. But the delight on your face makes the fib worth it.

You throw your arms around him in a hug. “Yay! I can’t wait to share them with the team this weekend.”

Charles’ stomach drops. The thought of the entire paddock pretending to enjoy your baking makes him cringe internally. But he plasters on a smile. “What a nice idea! I’m sure they’ll love them.”

The two of you arrive at the circuit and you can barely contain your excitement as you carry a large container of cupcakes into the paddock. Charles trails behind you, backpack slung over one shoulder, his other arm wrapped around your waist. He presses a quick kiss to your temple before you flit off to distribute your baked goods.

You first approach Max Verstappen, holding out a cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. “Here Max, have one!”

Max eyes the treat dubiously but accepts it with a polite smile. “Thanks Y/N, that’s really nice of you.”

You beam and turn to Charles, missing the look of apprehension on Max’s face. Charles catches Max’s eye and draws a finger across his throat in warning. Max’s eyes widen but he nods in understanding. Charles won’t let anything ruin your mood today.

You make your way through the paddock, handing cupcakes to mechanics, engineers, PR reps, reporters, team principals, and drivers. Charles hovers behind you, keeping a watchful eye on each recipient.

Daniel Ricciardo visibly gags on his first bite when you turn away. Charles glares and shakes his head sharply. Daniel rearranges his face into a smile and gives a thumbs up.

Lando Norris takes an overly large bite and Charles has to pound on his back as he chokes it down.

Esteban Ocon discreetly spits his cupcake into a napkin when you’re not looking. Charles lunges forward and grabs his arm, squeezing tightly until Esteban wheezes out “Delicious!”

You remain blissfully unaware of the chaos that falls over the paddock in your wake, oblivious to Charles’ desperate interventions. All you see are your friends and acquaintances enjoying your baking.

When you finally offer a cupcake to Charles, he takes it and eats the whole thing without hesitation. Because even if it tastes like sugary sawdust, the delight on your face makes it the best treat in the world.

“Wasn’t that fun?” You gush to Charles afterwards. “I can’t wait to try out a new recipe soon!”

Charles just kisses your frosting-smudged nose and says, “I can’t wait either, mon amour.” As long as you’re happy, he’ll choke down all the questionable cupcakes you offer. Because your smile is the only thing that matters.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you and Charles arrive for the next race weekend, yet another batch of fresh baked goods in hand. You’re eager to share your latest creations — classic chocolate chunk cookies. You spent hours carefully following the recipe, determined to get them just right.

As you make your rounds distributing cookies, the reactions are the usual mix of forced smiles and discreet spitting. Charles trails behind you, glaring at anyone who doesn’t immediately rave about how delicious they are. The drivers and mechanics quickly catch on, showering you with praise and shooting Charles grateful looks when he turns you away.

You finally offer a cookie to Graham, a mechanic from the Mercedes team. He takes it hesitantly, eyeing Charles standing behind you. But Graham is new to the paddock and unaware of the baked goods situation.

He takes a bite and immediately grimaces. “Ugh, these taste terrible!” He blurts out.

You gasp, stumbling back as if struck. Tears well up in your eyes. Charles is at your side in an instant, pulling you into a comforting hug. Over your shoulder, he shoots Graham a look of absolute rage.

Graham realizes his mistake too late, shame washing over his face. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean ...” he stammers. But you’re already pulling away from Charles and rushing off, sobbing.

Charles turns on Graham, eyes blazing. “How could you? All she ever wants to do is make others happy!” Graham cowers before him, other mechanics backing away nervously.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Graham says miserably.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Charles snarls. “You stay away from her, you hear me?” Graham nods shakily. Satisfied the message is received, Charles races after you.

He finds you behind the garage, face buried in your hands. “Oh mon ange,” Charles murmurs, wrapping you in his arms. “Don’t listen to him, your cookies are perfect.”

You cling to Charles, sniffling. “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone. But I’m so horrible at baking!”

Charles tilts your chin up. “You listen to me. You have the biggest, kindest heart. It doesn’t matter if the cookies are a little, er, overdone. What matters is you put love into making them. Don’t let someone like Graham get you down.”

You smile tremulously. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best boyfriend ever?”

Charles grins. “Hmm, I don’t mind hearing it again.” Laughing through your tears, you tell him again, punctuating it with a kiss.

After ensuring you’re okay, Charles seeks out Graham. “I trust you’ll be more considerate going forward?” Graham nods meekly. “Good. But just so we’re clear, if you upset her again, you’ll be out of this paddock for good.”

The next day, the news breaks that Graham has been dismissed from the Mercedes team for “attitude issues.” You feel a bit guilty, hoping your cookies didn’t cause him to lose his job. But Charles seems strangely satisfied, so you don’t dwell on it.

From then on, Charles redoubles his efforts to protect your feelings whenever you provide baked goods. The paddock falls in line, fawning over your overly salty pretzels and dry banana bread.

The brightness of your smile makes it all worth it to Charles. Because keeping that joy and kindness shining in you is what matters most to him.

***

You step out of Charles’ Ferrari, the engine purring as he puts it in park. Taking his hand, you smile excitedly — today is another fan meetup organized by the team, and you can’t wait to connect with Charles’ supporters again.

“Are you ready, mon cœur?” Charles asks, squeezing your hand gently. His green eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you adoringly.

“Absolutely!” You chirp, patting the large picnic basket hanging off your arm. “I made lots of treats to share today!”

Charles grins and leans in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sure they will love everything you made, as always.”

You beam, bolstered by his encouragement as you both make your way to the event. The meetup is being held in a local park, with tents and tables set up amongst the lush green grass and towering trees. You spot a long line of fans waiting eagerly for Charles’ arrival. Most are dressed in the familiar rosso corsa of Ferrari, holding posters and memorabilia for him to sign.

“Charles! Charles!” They chant excitedly when they see him. You hang back happily, letting him have his moment with his dedicated supporters. Charles takes selfies, signs autographs, and chats animatedly in Italian, French, and English. The fans are thrilled to interact with their racing idol.

After some time, Charles waves you over. “I would like you all to meet someone very special to me,” he announces, wrapping an arm around you. The fans erupt into cheers and applause. “This is Y/N, my love.”

You blush at the attention but manage to give a little wave. “Hi everyone! I’m so happy to be here today.”

Charles addresses the crowd again. “As some of you know, Y/N loves to bake and has brought some special treats to share with you all today.”

This is met with more enthusiastic cheers. Though none of them particularly enjoy your baked goods, the fans appreciate the effort and know Charles likes to reward them for humoring you.

You open up your large picnic basket, beaming with pride. “I made my favorite oatmeal raisin cookies, some lemon squares, and my famous rocky road fudge!”

The fans try not to visibly cringe, lining up politely with plates held out. You happily distribute your overly dry, burnt cookies and gooey, cloying fudge. The lemon squares are mushy and saccharine. But the fans accept it all with smiles and encouragement.

“Mmm, delicious!” One teenage girl forces out through a mouthful of your fudge.

An older man gives you a thumbs up as he chokes down a cookie, eyes watering. “So good!”

You beam, pleased that they enjoy your baking so much. As you chat with each person, you don’t notice Charles discreetly handing out autographed photos, caps, and other prized memorabilia to reward the fans for their efforts.

After you’ve handed out all your baked goods, Charles suggests a stroll through the park gardens. As you walk hand-in-hand admiring the flowers, he says softly, “You have such a big heart, Y/N. The way you care so much about connecting with the fans means the world to me.”

You squeeze his hand gratefully. “It’s the least I can do — they support you in everything, so I want to support them too.”

Charles stops and turns to you, his expression tender. “You are amazing, truly. I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He leans in and kisses you sweetly. Your heart flutters just like the first time your lips met.

When you return from your walk, the event is winding down. You say goodbye to the fans, who thank you profusely for the treats and making their day so special. You tell them you can’t wait to bake for them again soon!

After the last fan leaves, it’s just you and Charles. The late afternoon sun casts golden light on the empty picnic tables.

“Did you have fun, mon amour?” Charles asks, caressing your cheek.

“The best time!” You say enthusiastically. “I just love baking for your wonderful fans and seeing how it makes them smile.”

Charles’ eyes are full of love. He kisses the top of your head. “As long as it makes you happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

You snuggle into his chest happily. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“I don’t think so,” Charles teases. “Why don’t you remind me again?”

You grin up at him. “I’ll tell you over dinner … I have a new donut recipe I want to try out.”

Charles fights down a grimace as he reminds himself that your love is more than worth suffering through another dreadful dessert. “I can’t wait!”

***

“Mate, you have to stop her before she poisons someone,” Max whispers urgently to Charles as you step out of the room.

Charles furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. Her baking. It’s … it’s just terrible. I’m sorry, but it has to be said.”

Charles lets out a dismissive chuckle. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Max raises his eyebrows incredulously. “I chipped a tooth on her brownie last week!”

Charles rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he avoids making eye contact.

“Look, I get that you don’t want to upset her,” Max continues, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “But we can’t keep lying and pretending it’s good! One of these days, someone is going to end up in the hospital.”

Charles sighs deeply, running a hand through his tousled hair. “What do you want me to do? If I tell her the truth, she’ll be devastated.”

You return to the room then, a bright smile on your face as you carry a plate of freshly baked apple tarts. “Who wants one?”

Max cringes almost imperceptibly while Charles shoots him a warning look. “They look great, ma belle!” He says with forced enthusiasm, taking one and bringing it to his lips.

The apple filling is gelatinous and tastes faintly of soap. Charles forces himself to swallow it with a strained smile. Max quickly declines when you offer him one.

Later that evening, Charles finds Max alone outside his apartment building. “I need your help,” he admits defeatedly.

Max looks at him expectantly.

“With Y/N’s baking … how do I get her to stop without completely crushing her?”

His friend contemplates this for a moment. “Well … you could try convincing her to take up a new hobby instead?”

Charles shakes his head. “I’ve suggested that before, but she’s dead set on baking. It’s her biggest passion.”

“Okay, then you’ll have to take a different approach.” Max strokes his chin thoughtfully. “What if … you told her a bunch of us were going vegan or something, so she couldn’t bake for us anymore?”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the suggestion, but then slowly nods. “You know, that could actually work …”

The next day, you eagerly bring a fresh batch of blueberry muffins to the paddock to share with everyone. Charles takes a deep breath before pulling you aside gently.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” He starts, trying to keep his expression neutral.

You blink up at him curiously. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Well …” He clears his throat. “I was talking to the guys and … Lewis has actually convinced a bunch of them to go vegan. Lando, Max …”

He lists off a dozen more names, watching as realization dawns on your face. Your shoulders slump slightly.

“Oh … I see.” You glance down at the muffins in your hands. “I guess that means I can’t really bake for them anymore.”

Charles feels a pang of guilt at the disappointment in your eyes. But then, your expression brightens again.

“I’ll just have to start baking vegan treats instead!” You declare happily. “This is so exciting, I’ve been wanting to experiment with more plant-based ingredients!”

Charles’s shoulders tense as the plan epically backfires. Of course you’d take this as an opportunity to bake even more.

Over the next few weeks, you gleefully embrace the vegan baking lifestyle. Charles has to smother his laughter when Max nearly chokes biting into one of your “chewy” vegan brownies. Lando spits out a mouthful of your gritty vegan chocolate cake when you’re not looking.

You, however, remain blissfully unaware of how dreadful your creations are. No matter how many hints Charles tries to drop, the problem only seems to be getting worse.

One evening, you set a plate of fresh-from-the-oven vegan peanut butter cookies on the coffee table, plopping down on the couch next to Charles with a proud grin.

“Try one!” You insist, picking a cookie up and holding it in front of his lips.

Charles hesitates for just a second too long. Your face falls and he scrambles to take a bite, barely suppressing a wince as he chews on what feels like a solid lump of chalk mixed with peanut shavings. He forces himself to swallow it down with an enthusiastic grin.

“Wow, these are incredible!” He lies through his teeth. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

You perk up immediately, the dejected look vanishing. “You really think so? I tried a new recipe I found online.”

“Definitely a winner,” Charles affirms, trying his best to sound convincing. “We should bring some to the paddock for everyone to try.”

Your eyes light up at the suggestion and guilt twists in Charles’s gut. The last thing he wants is for the other drivers to have to suffer through these … confections. But he could never be the one to shatter your baking dreams.

The next day at the track, you eagerly pass around the plate of peanut butter hockey pucks to the drivers and crew. Charles discreetly pulls Max aside with a pained look.

“Please, I’m begging you …” he murmurs under his breath. “Just smile and nod, no matter how bad they are.”

Max grimaces as he takes an experimental bite of one of the cookies, his expression doing little to mask his revulsion. But he meets Charles’s pleading gaze and forces out a strangled, “Mmm … great!”

One by one, the others follow suit — fake smiles and strained praises as they choke down your baked atrocities. You remain obliviously pleased, unaware of their suffering.

Over the next few weeks, the vegan baking experiments only seem to get worse and worse. The paddock has become a silent circle of culinary martyrs — all sworn to an unspoken code to preserve your feelings at all costs.

You proudly present a tray of charcoal-colored muffins that leave the entire garage coughing from the plume of burnt flour. “Tried a new recipe for dark chocolate avocado muffins!” You explain brightly.

“Can’t wait to dig in,” Lando is close to crying, his eyes already watering.

Charles has to bite back a laugh as Max takes a heroic bite, barely managing to keep it together. He pats the Dutchman on the back firmly as the poor guy fights back a gag reflex.

“Two more words about her baking and you’ll be racing with three wheels next season,” he warns Carlos in a low mutter after witnessing the Spaniard nearly vomit up a slice of your “moist” vegan zucchini bread.

The sheer willpower it takes for the entire crew to maintain the facade is almost impressive. Technique and strategy meetings have now become immense displays of unspoken fortitude — everyone driven by the simple goal of not letting you catch on that your baked goods are, in fact, completely inedible.

Charles has started bringing backup protein bars and shakes to every race just to make sure nobody accidentally lapses into baked good-induced delirium.

He really has no idea how much longer this can possibly be sustained. But he also has no idea how to safely extract the situation without demolishing your passion and self-confidence in the process.

For now, his main objective is to ensure your bright smile and cheerfulness remain unchanged — no matter how many mouths he has to personally silence to make that happen.

At the end of the day, having you by his side, radiating that infectious joy and following your heart’s desire, is worth enduring all the subpar vegan muffins in the world.

He’ll take a bite of your latest abomination with an adoring grin, because that’s what partners who truly love each other do — they support each other through the good, the bad, and the burnt-to-a-crisp.

***

It’s the start of a new season, and Charles has been racking his brain for a solution to the ongoing baking saga. As much as he loves indulging your passion, the charade is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. The entire paddock is at their wits’ end trying to choke down your vegan torture devices week after week.

That’s when he has an idea — one he hopes will be a win-win for everyone involved.

“Surprise!” He says with an excited grin, presenting you with the envelopes. “I got us signed up for this baking course. I thought it could be fun for us to take some classes together!”

You’re beaming as you throw your arms around his neck. “That’s such a thoughtful idea! I would love nothing more.”

Of course, Charles being Charles is hardly fully forthright about his motivations. “To be honest, I’m the one who really needs the help,” he fibs sheepishly. “We all know I’m a disaster in the kitchen. But with your talents guiding me, maybe there’s hope!”

Over the next few weeks, you and Charles diligently show up for your baking classes. The instructor walks you through fundamentals like properly measuring ingredients, controlling oven temperatures, and mastering technical skills. Slowly but surely, your creations start emerging looking (and smelling) better and better.

One evening, you return home with a fresh tray of beautifully baked chocolate chip cookies — the first delicacy you’ve felt confident enough to bake since the lessons. You present them to Charles with bated breath.

He takes one tentative bite, his eyes widening in surprise. These are actually ... edible! More than edible — they are legitimately delicious! The dough-to-chip ratio is perfect, the texture is chewy but not dry or crumbly. He quickly stuffs two more into his mouth with an appreciative moan.

“Ma belle … these are incredible!” He gasps out between bites.

You clap your hands over your mouth, eyes shining with glee. “Oh my gosh, you really think so? I was so nervous!”

“Are you kidding? I could eat this entire tray all by myself!”

The two of you dissolve into celebratory laughter and hugs, the sweet taste of success quite literally on your tongues.

“I think it’s time for the real taste test,” you declare one day, rolling up your sleeves as you start prepping an array of fresh baked goods. “We’re taking these bad boys to the paddock!”

The next race weekend, you stride in carrying bakery boxes of your fresh chocolate chip cookies as well as some decadent fudge brownies.

“Fresh out of the oven!” You announce proudly, setting them down with a bright grin. “Who’s hungry?”

For a long beat, nobody moves. The drivers exchange wary glances, their self-preservation instincts kicking in as they recall the many baking debacles of the past. Lando bravely reaches for a brownie first, his face scrunched up preemptively-

Only to blink in surprise as the rich, fudgy flavor hits his taste buds. His eyes widen comically as he takes another bite. “Bloody hell ... this is actually good!”

The words seem to shatter the suspended tension. Soon the entire paddock is swarming the trays, devouring the fresh baked goods with delight. Charles watches on in disbelief, his own taste buds experiencing flavors he didn’t even know were possible from your former creations.

He sees Max take a bite of one of the cookies, freezing in place as his eyes slip closed with an expression of pure bliss. When they open again, Charles is alarmed to see they’re glistening with unshed tears.

The Dutchman wordlessly holds up the cookie, gazing at Charles reverently as a lone tear trails down his cheek. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, he brings the baked good to his lips and takes another sensual bite, savoring it like it’s the first good thing he’s ever tasted.

From then on, it’s like a switch has been flipped. The paddock that once dreaded your baking now seemingly can’t get enough of it. Every race weekend, they await your fresh creations with unrestrained enthusiasm, like kids on a sugar bender.

Charles has lost count of how many times he’s caught drivers and crew sneaking off to wherever you’re prepping the latest batch, nostrils flaring as they try to scout out that heavenly aroma.

It’s gotten to the point where Max’s performance coach has had to implement strict rules about his treat consumption to prevent indulgences from derailing his season.

“Easy there, Max!” Rupert calls in a booming tone, swooping in to physically restrain the Dutchman as he makes a mad dash toward where you’re unpacking that week’s fresh delivery. “You know you have a limit on those.”

Max strains against his performance coach’s grip, eyes zeroing in on the platter of goodies being unloaded with unrestrained longing. “I don’t care, she brought triple chocolate cookie dough brownies this time! Let me go!”

Rupert grunts in exertion, struggling to keep his driver in check. “This is for your own good! Think of your diet!”

“That’s irrelevant!” Max practically snarls, pupils blown wide like an addict suffering from withdrawals. “Do you have any idea how long I waited to have real baked goods again?”

It’s a battle of wills and metabolism that quickly becomes a weekly sight. Charles can’t help but chuckle fondly as he watches Max and Rupert’s familiar tug-of-war happen like clockwork every Sunday.

As much as he’d love to intervene, he knows better than to come between Max and your heavenly baked creations. He’s just thrilled that this baking journey took such a delicious turn — both for your invigorated culinary passion and for the safety of everyone’s tastebuds.

Honestly, he’ll take the sight of a feverish Max drooling over freshly baked goods any day over having to choke down burnt muffins and brittle biscuits. This is the sweet upgrade everyone had been dreaming about.

The true recipe for happiness was sticking by each other’s side through all those halfbaked stumbles.

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gigabyte-flare · 10 months

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Hybrid

(A Gigabyte Flare One Shot)

Summary: The year is 2123. The latest craze to hit the market are Hybrids, humans genetically engineered to have animalistic traits, born and raised to be the perfect companion. Your mom convinces you to get one since you live alone in a big city, however you get way more than you bargained for

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: puppy!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Pet play, dubcon, oral (f receiving), somnophilia, sex [p in v], mommy kink, breeding kink

A/N: Finally hopping on the puppy!Leon band wagon! Huge shoutout to @nexysworld for creating the adorable puppy!Leon for this fic's banner and for her and @elfven-blog for enabling me to write a puppy!Leon fic. Also lightly inspired by the puppy!Leon POV series by Nekrophil/ABP0RNS on Twitter (go check them out, their artwork is *chef's kiss*) Enjoy!

“Hybrids, the latest craze in New Los Angeles for human companionship. Humans spliced with animal DNA and raised to be your best friend! Hybrids are the perfect addition to any household! Adopt your Hybrid today at your nearest--”

You abruptly change the channel, sitting in a living room with your mom at her condo.

“Those things freak me the fuck out…” you say, mindlessly scrolling through channels.

“Hybrids? Aw, really? I think they’re cute!”

You turn to your mom, giving her a disgusted look, “really? You don’t see anything wrong with those things?”

She shakes her head, “no worse than the cyber augmentations people get, sweetie”

You watch your mom ponder for a moment, her eyes suddenly widening, “you should get one!”

“What-- Mom, no!”

“You’re in that apartment all away across town all by yourself, it’ll be good for you!”

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

How you got dragged out to adopt a Hybrid is beyond you. Your mom somehow convinced you to at least go and look at what they have available for adoption. You lean your head against the passenger window and watch the sights of the city. You mindlessly listen to your mom rattle on about how excited she is to look at the Hybrids and you picking out one, which finally draws your attention.

“Whoa hold on, Mom, I never said I was buying one! I just said I would look, that’s all!” you draw your attention back out the passenger window, “besides, I can’t afford one, you know that. I’d never have enough credits in my lifetime for something like that.”

“Hun, I’m going to help you with that, don’t worry. This is for your wellbeing, after all!”

“Great…”

The large neon sign proclaiming that it was the location of a Hybrid adoption center made your stomach sink. Your mom pulls the car into the parking lot, getting out and practically dragging you out of the passenger’s side to go into the building. The reception area is a blinding white, a stark contrast to the neon grunge of the city outside. The woman behind the desk greets both of you both with a smile.

“Welcome to the Hybrid adoption center! How can I help you ladies today?”

Your mom grasps you by your shoulders, pushing you forward, “my daughter wants to see the Hybrids available for adoption today!”

“Oh that’s fantastic!” the receptionist says, her smile still plastered on her face, “what kind of Hybrid are you looking for?”

You look at the receptionist with a confused look, “what do you mean what kind?”

“Well, we have different kinds that are spliced with different animals! However, our dog and cat Hybrids are our most popular, would you like to start with one of those?”

You look at your mom for a moment before shifting your attention back to the receptionist, “um… I guess the dog ones…?”

“Great choice! Now then, I’ll notify our active adoption coordinator and have her come out to take you to see what we have for dog Hybrids, have a seat!”

You and your mom take a seat in the waiting area. You lean forward, fiddling with your fingers as you both wait. Your mom was more excited to see the Hybrids than anyone. You just wanted to please your Mom and move on. You had no intention of adopting a Hybrid. The sound of a door sliding open makes you jump as a woman with a clipboard comes out to you and your Mom.

“Are you the two ladies here to see our dog Hybrids?” she asks enthusiastically.

“Yes we are!” your mom immediately answers, practically jumping out of her seat.

The woman motions for you both to follow her, you do so reluctantly. She leads you down a set of pure white corridors before coming upon another door that slides open. Both sides of the room were lined what you could only describe as cells and you see them, the Hybrids. You expected to hear barking for some reason, but that’s not the case here. They all are saying hello and grabbing the bars that keep them in their cells.

“They can talk…?” I ask.

“Yes! Hybrids are perfectly capable of human speech! Did you have something in particular in mind for a dog Hybrid?”

“You should get a male--” Mom interjects.

“Mom!”

The coordinator just laughs, “we have plenty of males to choose from, let’s take a look!”

The first thing you notice is all of them are naked, making this whole situation even more awkward. Hybrids were quite literally people with animal parts grafted onto them; it was quite unsettling to you.

“How is this even ethical?” you whisper to your Mom.

“Stop it!” your Mom scolds you.

Most of the Hybrids were much too… eager and hyper for you, making you a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t until you got to one of the last cells when a Hybrid actually caught your attention. He, of course, was nude like the rest, but he wasn’t jumping all over the place trying to get your attention. He was laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and, admittedly, he was quite gorgeous; you were bummed he was a Hybrid and not a human. He finally notices you, rolling over and smiling as he grasps the bars on his cell.

His voice is gentle, “hi there! I’m Leon!” his matching blonde tail wagging back and forth.

Something you hadn’t noticed before was that all the Hybrids had two sets of ears, their human ears and their animal ears, “do they all have two sets of ears?” you ask.

“So their animal ears aren’t actually ears, they’re simply appendages meant for cosmetics. Their human looking ears are their actual ears.” the coordinator replies, “this is Leon, he just turned 21; he’s a very calm boy, very loyal and friendly, but protective, too.”

“Oh sweetie he’s perfect for you! Look at him! He’s adorable!” your mom exclaims before speaking to the coordinator, “she lives in an apartment all by herself.”

“Oh! Leon would be perfect for you! What do you say?”

Your gaze shifts to Leon, his pretty blue eyes practically pleading at you, his tail still wagging.

You let out a heavy sigh, you can’t believe you’re actually doing this, “I’ll take him.”

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

The next few days were a blur, consisting of filling out paperwork and buying things Leon would need for when he comes home. Thankfully Hybrids eat the same things humans do, so you just have to make sure you buy for two instead of just for yourself. The day came for Leon to come home to your apartment and your first order of business was getting clothes on him, having him naked all the time was just way too weird. That was proving harder than you anticipated.

“No! It’s itchy!” Leon whines, kicking off the pants and underwear you had put on him for the fifth time before curling up on the floor.

At that point you conceded defeat, you were just going to have to deal with him being naked for now. You guessed it made sense, he’s probably been naked his entire life. You watch him as he plays with a rubber bone you had bought him, immediately noticing his canine teeth were much sharper than a normal human’s would be. You look over in the corner where you had a large crate set up, it was actually at the coordinators recommendation that you get a crate for him even though the idea of putting him in it made you really uncomfortable. You’d hope you wouldn’t have to use it.

Your attention returns to Leon, who’s still playing with his bone happily, sporting this new collar you got him. It was a blue leather collar to match his eyes and had a bone shaped tag that had his name on the front and your contact info on the back.

“Leon,” you suddenly call to him, holding your hand out, “wanna play fetch?”

Leon immediately perks up onto his haunches before crawling over to you with the toy in his mouth.

You tried your damned hardest not to focus on his very large dick, even flaccid it was quite large. Again, you curse that he’s not a human internally. He drops the toy from his mouth into your hand and you reach out, giving him a scratch behind one of his dog ears. His cheeks turn red, leaning his head into your touch.

“Aren’t you a sweet boy…” you say before tossing the toy gently.

Leon chases after the toy, picking it up in his mouth and bringing it back over to you for you to throw again. You do this a few more times before Leon decides he’s had enough, he climbs up onto the couch next to you, laying his head in your lap as he stretches out across the rest of the couch, his tail making a rhythmic thumping sound as he wags his tail. You run your fingers through his hair, looking down at him.

His blue eyes look up at you and he smiles, “I love you, Mommy!”

You feel your breath hitch at his words, but you quickly recover and smile back, “love you too, Leon.”

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

“Leon, get back here right now!”

You never thought you’d be starting your day chasing Leon around the living room with a pair of boxers in your hands.

“Leon, come on! My best friend is coming over and I can’t have you running around naked, at least wear these boxers for god’s sake! I even cut a hole in the back for your tail, just get over here so I can put them on!”

“No! It itches!” Leon protests, somehow managing to stay one step ahead of you as he darts around the living room on all fours.

After a while, you manage to corner him on the couch, quickly slipping on the boxers, making sure to pull his tail through the makeshift hole you had made. He starts to pull them off when you scold him.

“Leon, no! Do you want to go in the crate?”

Leon stops, pulling the boxers back up and giving you the most pathetic puppy eyes, “no, Mommy…”

“Then they stay on at least until my best friend leaves, ok?”

Leon nods, climbing off the couch, grabbing his rubber bone before climbing back onto the couch to chew on it.

“Thank you… good boy…” you say before you work on cleaning up your apartment for your best friend to arrive.

About a half hour goes by when you hear your phone go off, a notification displaying that there is someone at the door. With a couple of taps on your phone, your best friend’s face appears on the screen.

“Hey there, I’m here!” she says, giving you a big smile.

“Hang on Hailey, I’ll be right there!”

You go up to your apartment door, push a few buttons on the key panel next to the door and the door slides open. Hailey, your best friend since you were kids, comes in and gives you a hug.

“It’s been too long! What is it that you wanted to show me?” Hailey asks.

You motion for Hailey to follow you into the living room, where you find Leon still contently chewing on his bone, the boxers thankfully still on.

“Is… is that one of those Hybrids?!” the shock is evident in Hailey’s voice.

“Y-Yeah… mom convinced me to get him; his name is--”

“Hi there!” Leon sits up, his tail wagging in full circles as he looks to your friend, “I’m Leon!”

Hailey leans over to whisper into your ear, “are all Hybrids that hot?”

You elbow her, “shut up! It’s hard enough to deal with as it is without you mentioning it!”

Leon looks between the two of you, cocking his head in confusion, his tail still wagging, now hitting against the couch.

“Listen, I’m pretty sure most people fuck their Hybrids, like, look at him, how could you not?”

“Hailey, no! That’s fucking weird.”

“You’re telling me that you haven’t at least thought about it?”

“We’re not talking about this, not in front of Leon.”

Leon, meanwhile, has returned his attention to his rubber bone, chewing it aggressively when he suddenly picks up an unusual scent, one he’s never smelled before. He stops chewing, flaring his nostrils as he sniffs the air. Whatever it was, it smells sweet, almost like a wildflower. He quickly realizes that it’s you that smells like this, even though it was so faint. He wanted to get up and stuff his nose into you to take in more of this sweet smell, however, he knew he’d get in trouble, especially with your friend being here. To his dismay, you and your friend went back into the kitchen to hang out, bringing that irresistible smell with you.

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

In the dead of night, Leon is restless, tossing and turning in his plush bed that sat at the foot of your bed. The smell from the other day has only become stronger over time and it was getting to Leon’s head. The smell was making his cock hard, something he hadn’t really experienced until now. It is almost painful; just him simply running his fingers along his cock made him flinch. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, he sat up, carefully climbing onto your bed. You were laying on your back, sound asleep with your legs spread open.

Leon gently crawls his way between your legs, the intoxicating smell emanating from the spot between your legs; he notices a dark spot on your panties. Gently, he presses his nose against the wet spot, inhaling deeply as his tail wags back and forth.

That’s it… that’s where that smell is coming from…

He glances up at you, you’re still sound asleep. He gently hooks a finger on your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening cunt to him; it practically makes him salivate. He hesitantly runs his tongue over your slit, his eyes fluttering closed as he savors the taste of you. You suddenly stir, your hips shifting slightly as a soft moan comes out of you. Your eyes flutter open and you look down to find, to your horror, Leon between your legs, eating you out.

You blink a few times before shouting, “LEON!”

Taking his mouth off of you, Leon’s eyes widen as he pushes himself off the bed, letting out a soft whimper as you sit up and cover yourself with your blanket.

“In your crate!” you point to the bedroom door, your face beet red, “now!”

“Mommy… I’m sorry… I just--”

“GET. OUT!”

Leon’s puppy ears droop and his tail tucks itself between his legs as he crawls out into the living room. You follow behind him, making sure he puts himself in his crate before shutting the crate door behind him. Looking up and whining at you, his fingers grip the bars of the crate as he stares up at you, pleading to you with his blue eyes. Unfortunately, you simply shake your head at him and walk back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Leon feels tears well up in his eyes as he grips the bars on the crate.

What did he do wrong? He was only doing what his instincts told him to do, why was that bad? Releasing his grip on the crate bars, he makes himself as comfortable as he possibly can in his situation, crying himself to sleep, your sweet scent still lingering in the air.

��🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

You didn’t sleep a wink the rest of the night, between the sounds of Leon’s cries echoing through your bedroom door to just the thought of waking up to Leon eating you out disturbed you to your core. You finally get yourself out of bed, throwing on your pajama bottoms before walking out of your bedroom. You find Leon awake in his crate, his eyes red and puffy from crying all night. Upon seeing you, he immediately sits up, gripping the crate bars, his tail wagging so hard it was a blonde blur. Against your better judgment, you walk up to the crate, unlocking it to let him out.

As soon as you open the crate door, Leon bolts out, wrapping his arms around your legs, holding you tight. The fact that he buries his nose into you and deeply inhales doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Thank you for letting me out, Mommy! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be a good boy, I swear!”

You pry his arms off you and push him away, “Just… just go play with your toys Leon…” you say before walking into the kitchen to make yourself coffee and breakfast.

Once you have your coffee and breakfast, you practically collapse at the small dining table, rubbing your face with your hands. What are you going to do? You could start crating him at night, but something about that didn’t sit right with you. Suddenly, you feel something rest on your lap and the sound of something thumping against the floor. You move your hands away from your face to find Leon’s head resting in your lap, his tail wagging against the floor.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” he asks, his blue eyes looking up at you, his puppy ears erect and alert.

“Nothing, Leon…” you say with a sigh, “you must be hungry. I’ll make you something to eat…”

You get up from the table and over to the stove where you make him some eggs and bacon. Once finished, you put them on a plate and set it on the floor in front of him and watch as he scarfs it down. You sit back down at the table and slowly pick away at your breakfast and take sips out of your coffee mug. You feel Leon rest his head onto your lap again. You look back down, finding him looking up at you longingly, his tail wagging insistently.

“What is it, Leon?” you ask, leaning back in your chair.

Leon doesn’t say a word, however, as he climbs up until he’s face to face with you, staring directly into your eyes, his tail still wagging. He lets out a soft whimper as he grinds his hips into the side of your thigh. You happen to glance down, greeted with his painfully hard member rubbing against you. Looking back up at him, Leon whimpers again, his hands softly caressing your arms.

“Leon… are you ok…?”

You watch as Leon swallows hard before he continues rutting himself against your thigh, his breath trembling.

“I need… to mate with you…” Leon finally replies, his grip on your arms tightening as he continues to grind into your thigh.

Your heart begins to race as very conflicting feelings begin to overtake you.

This is so wrong, you think to yourself.

That thought doesn’t stop you as you lean forward, giving Leon a gentle kiss on the lips, cupping his face in your hands. Leon deepens your kiss, his tongue dancing with yours before playfully biting your bottom lip. You stand up from the table, leading him back into the bedroom, shutting the door before you begin to undress. As soon as you're naked, Leon stands up on two feet, pushing you into the bed face first so that your backside is propped up. You feel yourself tremble in anticipation as you feel Leon climb onto the bed behind you. You flinch when you feel his cock caress your soaked slit, coating itself in your arousal before he pushes himself inside you.

“Oh… Oh god--!” you cry out as Leon’s length fills you completely, pushing into your g-spot almost immediately, your fingers gripping your sheets.

You hear Leon whimper as his hips begin to move into you. He starts out slow, but he quickly gains confidence and begins to thrust into you harder and faster, his hands gripping your hips so hard that you’re bound to have bruises later.

“Yes… oh yes, Mommy… you feel so good…” Leon moans as he pounds into you harder, “am I a good boy…?”

“Yes…” you reply in a breathy moan as your eyes roll back into your head, “you’re such a good boy, Leon… you fuck Mommy so good…”

You feel his hands grip your hips even tighter as he pulls your body to him, thrusting into you even harder, his loud moans and whimpers filling the room along with the wet sounds of your needy cunt taking him.

“Aaaaahhh… f-fill me up with your puppies Leon--!” you suddenly cry out, your pussy walls squeezing around his cock as he continues to thrust into you.

Leon growls in response, placing one of his hands onto your back to push you into the mattress as he fucks you relentlessly. His instincts are in overdrive, his thoughts completely overtaken by his burning desire to breed you.

“Oh my god… you’re such a good boy, Leon!” you praise him, completely drunk off his cock, your legs trembling as you’re filled with complete ecstasy.

You suddenly feel his cock start to swell inside you and you quickly realize he is knotting. It feels surprisingly good, making you feel full. You sit up on your knees, pressing your back against his chest as he continues to thrust into you. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, nuzzling your cheek against his as his hands find their way to the front of your body, caressing your breasts as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“I can’t wait…” Leon starts, his voice rough, “to see your belly full of my puppies.”

You repeatedly moan his name, the word fuck and good boy as he pounds his cock into you, your legs starting to feel weak as they violently tremble. Before they give way, a sudden warmth fills your pussy as he pushes himself inside you as hard and deep as he possibly can, his hands gripping both your breasts tightly as he bites into your shoulder. You let out an animalistic moan as you also cum on his cock, your greedy cunt milking his seed deep inside your womb.

Both of you collapse onto the bed in exhaustion with his length still buried inside you, ensuring that not a single drop of his cum is wasted. His arms and legs wrap around you as his face nuzzles into the back of your neck. Your whole body is trembling, completely overwhelmed by how good Leon was for you. You reach back, running your hand through his hair and caressing one of his puppy ears, whispering softly to him that he is a good boy.

You’re going to get used to this.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #puppy!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes

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cosmicanakin · 4 months

Text

full of surprises.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

pairing. vinnie hacker x female reader.

outline. helping vinnie in the garage, your knowledge, and skills with cars over the years come to surface, unveiling a secret you'd kept hidden.

contains. fluff, explicit language, smut, thigh riding, fingering, pinv, & breeding kink mentioned.

authors note. while i was scrolling through pinterest, i fell down a rabbit hole of photos of vinnie working on cars. and it inspired me to write. <3

the soft clanking and muttered curses drifting from the garage pull you away from your mindless scrolling on your phone. you glance at the clock, noticing it's past midnight already. vinnie told you he'd be done working on his by now but it seems he's hit another snag in repairs.

sighing, you slide off the couch and pad down the hallway. vinnie's bent over the open hood distractedly turning a wrench, smears of grease decorating his gray tank top and forearms in a way that makes your heart flutter. you admire his toned physique for a moment, always loving when he gets hands on.

“any luck, babe?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him. vinnie jerks up with a grimace, rubbing the back of his neck. “ah, no not yet. this damn fuel pump is being a real pain in my ass. i've replaced every other part but it just won't prime right.”

he kicks the tire in frustration earning a soft chuckle from you. striding over, you stand on your tiptoes to peer into the engine compartment. years spent helping your dad under the hoods of countless vehicles have given you more than a casual understanding.

“mind if i take a look?” you inquire, already sliding some gloves from the table beside you. vinnie gapes at you in disbelief. “i had no idea you knew about cars, babe,” disbelief colors his tone but you can also detect a hint of thrill at discovering another layer to you.

“my dad always said it's a good skill for any woman to have. now scoot over, let me see what's going on.” vinnie readily obliges, interest overtaking his previous annoyance as you step into his place. running an analytical eye, you soon spot the issue.

“ah, there's your problem. the fuel filter is badly clogged, no wonder it can't draw fuel properly. just needs a replacement, should clear it right up.” you declare confidently, removing the filter to examine. vinnie peers over your shoulder in amazement.

“damn baby girl, you never cease to surprise me. i'm seriously so impressed right now, you've got me feeling all kinds of things.” he purrs against your ear, hands sliding around your waist from behind. a shiver runs down your spine at his breath on your skin but you maintain focus, humming thoughtfully.

“flattery will get you everywhere mister, now hand me the socket so i can get this fixed,” you demand gently, holding a hand back expectantly. vinnie hurriedly passes you the tool, enthralled by your take-charge demeanor. within minutes the new filter is installed and you're reassembling the compartment.

flicking your gloves away, you turn to face vinnie's adoring gaze with a smile. “alright big man, give her a start, and let's see if that did the trick.” he grins, pressing a swift kiss to your lips in thanks before jumping into the driver's seat.

the cars roars to life on the first try, rumbling smoothly without any hiccups. vinnie whoops loudly, leaning out the window with glee. “fuck baby, you're amazing! that was the perfect fix. come here, i gotta give you a proper reward.”

giggling, you allow vinnie to tug you into his lap as he's sat in the driver's seat. his mouth latches onto your neck desperately, hands roaming your sides. “i'm so turned on by how smart and skilled you are. drives me crazy knowing you could probably rebuild this engine from scratch if you wanted,” he growls between kisses.

heat pools low in your belly at his adoring praise. you slide his hands up under your shirt, craving his touch. “mhm, maybe i will someday just to watch you swoon. but for now...” twisting, you capture vinnie's lips hungrily.

he sighs into the kiss, deepening it instantly as his tongue delves between your parted lips. you rock against his firm thigh. vinnie groans, hands gripping your hips to guide your movements.

“fuck, i need you so bad y/n. let's take this inside, i wanna worship your perfect body properly.” he breathes heavily, pupils blown wide with want. you nod eagerly, already scrambling from his lap toward the house. vinnie follows, hastily towing you the rest of the way by your wrist.

as soon as the bedroom door clicks shut he's pinning you against it feverishly. your shirt disappears followed by his as he assaults your collarbone with rough kisses and nips. a gasp escapes your throat, grabbing handfuls of his hair to encourage the delicious treatment.

vinnie hikes your legs around his waist, lifting as if you weigh nothing at all. the hard line of his erection presses relentlessly against your core through the multiple layers still separating you, seeking friction. you grind down needily, desperate for more contact.

“slow down, baby, ‘m not going anywhere,” he pants, carrying you to the bed and laying you out like a feast. vinnie quickly divests the rest of your clothing, gazing in awe at your naked form beneath him.

“so perfect, and all mine.” his worshipping words steal your breath, stomach clenching deliciously. when his mouth latches onto a pert nipple to suckle, you cry out loudly at the exquisite sensation.

vinnie takes his time lavishing each breast and curve of your body with wet kisses and love bites, mapping every sensitive spot until you're writhing and begging for more. finally his fingers dip to your dripping core, circling your swollen clit teasingly.

“fuck vinnie!” you babble, back arching off the mattress at his feather light touches. he chuckles darkly, sinking two digits into your cunt. “you take my fingers so well babygirl. bet you'll feel even better wrapped around my cock though, what do you think?”

a choked moan is your only response, eyes rolling back as he pumps his fingers leisurely. vinnie slowly adds a third, stretching your entrance deliciously full. his thumb rolls firm circles over your clit in time, driving you to the edge at an agonizing pace.

just as your orgasm begins to crest, he removes his hand entirely leaving you keening. vinnie stands to remove the last of his clothing, hard length jutting proudly from his slender hips. the sight alone could make you cum but he hasn't given permission yet.

crawling back over you, vinnie slots his cock against your dripping entrance and leans down to claim your mouth in a filthy kiss. “gonna make you feel so good y/n, fuck you senseless until you can't remember your name. that's what you want isn't it?”

you whimper desperately, nodding fervently against his lips. “please, i want to feel you so deep inside me. use me as rough as you like, i'm yours baby.” his restraint snaps, and with one powerful thrust, he's fully seated to the hilt within your clenching heat.

you cry out loudly at the relentless stretch, walls spasming deliciously around his girth. vinnie groans deeply, staying locked in place to adjust before beginning a punishing rhythm of hard, deep strokes. his hips snap violently, balls slapping your swollen flesh with each impact.

all you can do is hold on for dear life, nails raking down his sweat slicked back as he fucks you into oblivion. vinnie pistons his hips with animalistic drives, pounding directly into your most sensitive spots unerringly. a constant litany of filthy praises tumble from his pretty lips, only spurring you nearer the edge.

“fuck you look gorgeous taking my fat cock sweet girl, your pussy was made for me i swear. gonna fill you up, have your belly swollen with my babies, you want that pretty girl? want me to come inside you while i fuck my name out of that beautiful mouth?”

the depraved imagery plunges you over at last, walls constricting vinnie's member in a vice grip. your orgasm tears through you with ruthless intensity, eyes rolling back as you scream his name. he chases his own release, fucking you through the aftershocks until spilling deep within your quivering channel with a guttural groan.

collapsing together in a sweaty heap, you trade sloppy kisses and whispered ‘i love you's’ while coming down from ecstasy. vinnie curls around your sated form protectively, pressing sweet affection into any skin he can reach.

“you never cease to amaze me y/n. i love how full of surprises you are, constantly keeping me on my toes. and damn do i love when you take charge like that, so fucking hot.” he sighs contentedly, nuzzling your hair.

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thegnomelord · 5 months

Note

I REALLY LOVE THE STRAIGHTFOWARD WEREWOLVES SOAP. OMG. Its just really funny in my head, imagine the way soap would act so shameless around the reader, uncaring about the stare he got because thats just how they are! The werewolves race with their no-shit and unfiltered attitude, and oh if they take interest in you, prepare your heart especially if you has a weak one; because surely they'll cling their every waking moment with you, sniffing every spots of you that they can reach. Absurd yet endearing flirtiratios compliments would hurled at you, catching you off guard cause they just come out of nowhere. Baring their fangs at potential rivals, worst case scenario if its their own race, because they can and will get violent, best calmed the werewolves down before anything awful happened. Just a thing between werewolves to prove which one is the stronger and more qualified, whose more worthy of your love, in their point of view.

If you have the time can you make a short fic, it would be the highlight of my life for weeks!!

Okay yes but also because I love needy clingy pathetic Soap too much lol

CW: NSFW, gn reader, grinding, somnophillia, quick and rough.

You've noticed that Soap has started to act. . . strange.

He's started trying to feed you all types of stuff, mostly meat, seeking you out at all times of the day. You'll see him go out to the woods and come back with some large animal, and an hour later he'll be coming to you with a plate of food and a 'Kiss the cook' apron on (every time you have to bite back from drawing attention to the fact the arrows point down to his dick). "Hey, need that wonderful mouth of yer's to try this out." He says, watching with rapt attention as you try his food, taking every critique with a wagging tail.

And if you like his food, oh, there's a giant grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, ye like that?" He comes closer, the plate in your hands forcing distance between you two. "Reckon this cook should get a reward." He's already stepping around to press his chest flush with your back before he can finish his sentence, and you don't have the heart to stop him because the food is mouth watering and he's just scenting you, even if the occasional flick of his tongue against your nape makes you shiver. (You, again, try not to draw attention to a hard bulge grinding into your ass)

That's the other thing. He's gotten really clingy.

He's always been clingy with all the team members, nuzzling his cheek against Gaz, whining like a kicked puppy when pushes him away with a hand on his face, tail wagging as he scents Price. Usually he's satisfied after he's done scenting the lads in your team, happy to continue with his business.

But with you. . .

You can't even sit on the couch for five seconds before his burly body is snuggling up to you, taking his seat in your lap like he owns it, like he's a lap dog. Doesn't even excuse himself before his hands are groping your biceps as he nuzzles your neck. "Aye, yer so hoht," He purrs, full body rubbing against you. "Could use ye fer a blanket on cold nights." You don't know how to feel about that, his words causing your mind to stutter long enough for him to replace the scents lingering on you with his own.

And when someone enters to find you like this, he doesn't even throw them a glance, gripping onto you like a koala and all you can do is mouth a 'help me'. Doesn't work though, as the second he senses someone is getting near he's growling like a monster truck's engine, glaring at the poor sod with his face still stuck in your neck.

Or, if you're busy with something, he'll saddle up to you, ears perked up. "Oi, bonnie, hold som'ting fer me." He'll whine, tugging on your arm until you sigh.

"Fine, just give it here." You growl, holding out your arm, still concentrated on what you're doing.

Next thing you know you're cupping his jaw, his head resting on your hand. "Anyone ever tell ye, yer got perfect hands te grope with?" Johnny grins at you, that one snaggletooth fang pinching his lip, using your confusion to rub the scent glands in his cheeks against your palm, making sure you smell like him.

You shake out of your stupor and pull your hand back, resisting giving in when he gives you such a heartbroken whine. "No, Johnny." You growl and shoo him away, but he still manages to brush his tail against your leg.

You make the mistake to fall asleep on the communal couch after a grueling day of training recruits. When Johnny finds you, his nose immediately trying to get a whiff of your scent, he growls when he can barely get traces of it beneath the smell of dirt and sweat and way too many people when the only scent you should have on you is his. His inner wolf growls along with him, his ears pricking up straight, staring at your sleeping form.

He's more than happy to rectify your mistake.

He lays on top of you, purring happily to himself when you don't even shift. "Good mate," He hums to himself, wrapping around you like a blanket, face buried in your neck once again. His hands slide beneath your shirt, making him pant into your skin from the sensation of your muscles beneath his hands. He moves his body slowly, seeking to have as much skin contact as he can, mouth watering and angel bells ringing in his skull at how he can taste his scent replacing everyone else's on your skin.

He doesn't notice when he starts to nibble on your neck, but it's the sensible next move, what better way to keep competition away than let everyone know you're taken? Johnny's marks bloom across your throat as he sucks hickeys into your skin, his wolf and himself standing on common ground to make sure you're covered in his marks.

He pulls back his head to look at his work and groans, cock immediately hardening in his pants from you covered in his marks. His hips gain a life of their own, thighs gripping your own as he grinds down, already half drunk on your scent.

You wake up to find his hot breath fanning over your face, the sensation of something hard grinding against your leg dissipating any residual drowsiness. "Johnny, what the fuck?" You ask, voice rough from sleep, only now registering his weight on top of you.

"'m sorry bonnie," Johnny whines, burying his face into your neck to muffle his whining. "Just- hah- needed ye."

You grumble, but you can't hide the way heat burns through your veins at the sight of him, his face flushed, claws gripping you like you'll disappear, desperately humping against your leg.

"I can see that." You say, tensing your thigh to give aid him in his grinding, your eyes growing wide at the loud moan that escapes him, like he's a whore on camera.

"Oh, shite, thank ye, thank ye, thank ye-" He whines, his humping growing faster, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the way you hadn't pushed him away, that you're accepting his advances, muttering 'mate' under his breath as he chases after his orgasm.

He cums before either one of you knows it, a dark stain forming in his pants as he bites down and groans into your neck. You grunt, but Soap's quick to release your skin and lap at the aching spots with his tongue, soothing the pain.

"'m sorry bonnie." He mumbles, cock still hard in his pants, his wolfish eyes settling on you. Shame nibbles on his stomach for cumming so fast when he can't smell a lot of arousal on you, his wolf growling at him to show you how good he can be.

You jump when his hand slides down to grip your crotch roughly, his pupils dilating at the way a small moan slips past your lips. "Lemme make it up fer ye yeah?"

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #monster cod au #monster 141 au #soap x reader #gn reader

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cantsayidont · 5 months

Text

When attempting to critique the values of a long-running franchise like STAR TREK, it's important to draw a distinction between superficial issues and structural ones.

"Superficial" in this sense doesn't mean "minor" or "unimportant"; it simply means that an issue is not so intrinsic to the premise that the franchise would collapse (or would be radically different) were it changed or removed. For example, misogyny has been a pervasive problem across many generations of STAR TREK media, which have often been characterized by a particular type of leering-creep sexism that was distasteful at the time and has not improved with age. However, sexism and misogyny are not structural elements of the TREK premise; one can do a STAR TREK story where the female characters have agency and even pants without it becoming something fundamentally different from other TREK iterations (even TOS, although there are certainly specific TOS episodes that would collapse if you excised the sexism).

By contrast, the colonialism and imperialism are structural elements — STAR TREK is explicitly about colonizing "the final frontier" and about defending the borders, however defined, of an interstellar colonial power. Different iterations of STAR TREK may approach that premise in slightly different ways, emphasizing or deemphasizing certain specific aspects of it, but that is literally and specifically what the franchise is about. Moreover, because STAR TREK has always been heavily focused on Starfleet and has tended to shy away from depicting life outside of that regimented environment, there are definite limits to how far the series is able to depart from the basic narrative structure of TOS and TNG (a captain and crew on a Starfleet ship) without collapsing in on itself, as PICARD ended up demonstrating rather painfully.

This means that some of the things baked into the formula of STAR TREK are obviously in conflict with the franchise's self-image of progressive utopianism, but cannot really be removed or significantly altered, even if the writers were inclined to try (which they generally are not).

What I find intensely frustrating about most modern STAR TREK media, including TNG and its various successors, is not that it can't magically break its own formula, but that writer and fan attachment to the idea of TREK as the epitome of progressive science fiction has become a more and more intractable barrier to any kind of meaningful self-critique. It's a problem that's become increasingly acute with the recent batch of live-action shows, which routinely depict the Federation or Starfleet doing awful things (like the recent SNW storyline about Una being prosecuted for being a genetically engineered person in violation of Federation law) and then insist, often in the same breath, that it's a progressive utopia, best of all possible worlds.

This is one area where TOS (and to some extent the TOS cast movies) has a significant advantage over its successors. TOS professes to be a better world than ours, but it doesn't claim to be a perfect world (and indeed is very suspicious of any kind of purported utopia). The value TOS most consistently emphasizes is striving: working to be better, and making constructive choices. Although this can sometimes get very sticky and uncomfortable in its own right (for instance, Kirk often rails against what he sees as "stagnant" cultures), it doesn't presuppose the moral infallibility of the Federation, of Starfleet, or of the characters themselves. There's room for them to be wrong, so long as they're still willing to learn and grow.

The newer shows are less and less willing to allow for that, and, even more troublingly, sometimes take pains to undermine their predecessors' attempts along those lines. One appalling recent example is SNW's treatment of the Gorn, which presents the Gorn as intrinsically evil (and quite horrifying) in a way they're not in "Arena," the TOS episode where they were first introduced. The whole point of "Arena" is that while Kirk responds to the Gorn with outrage and anger, he eventually concedes that he may be wrong: There's a good chance that the Gorn are really the injured party, responding to what they reasonably see as an alien invasion, and while that may be an arguable point, sorting it out further should be the purview of diplomats rather than warships. By contrast, SNW presents the Gorn as so irredeemably awful as to make Kirk's (chronologically later) epiphany at best misguided: The SNW Gorn are brutal conquerors who lay eggs in their captives (a gruesome rape metaphor, and in presentation obviously inspired by ALIENS) when they aren't killing each other for sport, and even Gorn newborns are monsters to be feared. Not a lot of nuance there, and no space at all for the kind of detente found in TOS episodes like "The Devil in the Dark."

#teevee #star trek #star trek tos #star trek the next generation #star trek picard #strange new worlds #i find strange new worlds largely unwatchable #and this is a major reason why #along with their determination to no-homo spock

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TEN

in which you and eddie find out just how much can happen on the roof of a parking garage. a scary criminal could show up, a phone call could interrupt important moments, a bit could go too far, and... marriage vows could be exchanged?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, one (1) use of y/n, minors dni

→ wc: 8k+

→ a/n: if this is bad don't hmu. i returned to my wordy girl roots. also shout out to @br0ck-eddie and @big-ope-vibes for beta reading this for me <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

10:00 ─────ㅇ──────────── 24:00

HOUR TEN - 1:00 AM

Eddie is an erratic driver, which you should have known, but it doesn’t make you any less scared as he takes the empty curves of each street with intense speed. It doesn’t make you loosen your grip as you press into him as tightly as possible, practically molding your body to his.

You’re just grateful he was right – you didn’t see another soul for the entirety of the five minute drive. And if you did, you would have been mortified for them to see the way you clung to him.

His secondary location is a parking garage. If it were anyone else, if it were even so much as Eddie from ten hours before, sirens would be going off in your head and screaming for you to run as far as possible from this situation.

You don’t. Because it’s Eddie, and it’s Eddie being kind and flirty and civil. A new version of Eddie, and a new version of you.

You sit still and polite as he navigates the bike through a gap in the gate, the perfect size for a motorcycle to fit.

He keeps driving in circles, nearly making you dizzy, going up up up the parking garage levels until the ceiling breaks and you catch sight of the night sky again. The stars are more visible this high up, above the buzz of the city, closer to the atmosphere in altitude.

“Still alive back there?” he calls out as he cuts the engine, coming to a stop in one of the darker corners of the top level. You tell yourself it’s for practicality – if any sort of security happened upon this level, the two of you would remain hidden.

“Mhm,” you hum just loud enough for him to hear you through the helmet, arms aching from how tightly you continue to hold onto him.

If either of your hands were to slip, you’d graze against his partially exposed torso. Your fingers would make contact with his hips, would trace the expanse of curves and softness, possibly find their way to the trail of sparse hair down the center of his stomach.

It’s enough to make you fist his shirt into both hands, just to prevent that outcome.

“You sure?” he twists his body to look at you, and as he does, a hand comes up to rest on one of your arms.

It’s just a hand, and it’s just an arm. It’s just skin on skin. It’s nothing to call home about; Robin has grabbed your forearm plenty of times out of unbridled excitement, Steve has held onto it to guide you through crowds without losing you countless times, even Nancy has held your arm there before. None of them ever burned you before.

Maybe it’s not that Eddie’s touch scorns you, it’s not his palm kissed with flames. When his skin closes over yours, it only focuses your fire. That’s why it sears, that’s why it leaves your skin nothing but hot coals.

You burn for him.

“I’m positive,” your breath threatens to fog up the glass visor from the inside, “How do I get off this thing?”

He chuckles, and the hand holding your arm trails down, passing each of your knuckles with the press of a fingertip, drenched in intention. There is no reason for his touch to linger. There is no reason for him to draw roadmaps over your skin – it isn’t his to mark. And yet, the ashen lines appear all the same to you.

“Just swing off. I’ll stay sitting to balance the bike.”

You unravel your arms from around him, leaning your chest away from his back and immediately missing the proximity. You miss it as you clutch his shoulders, you miss it as you lift off the bike, you miss it as you stumble ever so slightly with your feet planted on concrete, and his hand shoots out to your hip in an effort to balance you.

It was an earnest effort, a casual touch, absolutely nothing but innocence in his fingertips as they wrap around your hip for a mere second before retracting. That doesn’t stop it from being gasoline on your fire.

He stands off of the bike unaware of the effect he’s continuing to have on you, pulling the keys from the ignition and popping the kickstand with such cruel casualty it begins to drive you insane.

“You need help with the helmet, or is it just part of your look now?” Eddie inquires as he walks around the back of the bike to stand in front of you.

The fucking smirk and the fucking dimples and the fucking eyes and the fucking-

“I need help,” you deadpan, playing into his game of cat and mouse. You’re willing to see how far you can push this until it breaks, is he? “You put it on me – you take it off.”

Your mind wanders to his comment, his threat, earlier. How if you didn’t get ready to come here, he’d undress you himself.

If him taking off this helmet is the closest you will ever get to that, so be it. It’ll give you something to think about tomorrow night in the comfort of your own bed.

Eddie shrugs happily, taking a step forward and carefully reaching out both hands to either side of the helmet. He’s slow in lifting it off, certainly just being careful and mindful of not hurting you, but it sends you hurtling even further to insanity. Inch by inch, the night’s cool air creeps up over your chin, over your cheeks, over the bridge of your nose. Your eyes flutter shut somewhere in the process.

When the helmet is fully removed, you keep your eyes shut. You wait for the shuffle of Eddie stepping back from you. You anticipate a comment on the state of your hair, your surely disastrous ‘helmet head’.

Neither comes. Instead, a warm breath hits your now cold cheek.

Your eyes open to find Eddie standing impossibly close to you. All downcast amber as his eyes trace over your face steadily, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips that remain slightly agape with each puffing breath. You don’t think he’s even recognized the way you had closed your eyes, nor the moment you’d opened them to catch him memorizing you up close.

“Eddie?” your voice cracks with the questioning, his name heavy on your tongue, “Is… Is everything okay?”

When his brown eyes meet yours, gilded honey and roasted chestnuts, they make your breath catch.

He nods with trepidation before breathing out, “Yeah. Everything’s…”

His words trail off, fading out into the buzz of the night surrounding you. The sounds of a city that never sleeps – distant sirens, a one-off car alarm, the random chirping of a bird, the beeping of a crosswalk signal. They all meld together into white noise, none of the singular components discernible. They’re nothing more than a background to the way Eddie is looking at you.

He raises a hand suddenly, still leaning in at a creeping pace, and tentatively reaches out to carefully tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. As his fingers curl into the skin behind your ear, lingering for far too long, the heel of his palm brushes your cheek.

You lean into it. Your face turns ever so slightly, eyes beginning to flutter again, desperately seeking out his touch. Enticing him to break, to cup your face fully, to give you more than you deserve in this moment.

Because he’s looking at you as if he’s about to kiss you. His eyes are flickering to your lips as you give in to futile want and heedless need, continuing to lean into his feathered touch, and you’re sure he’s about to kiss you. And you’re sure that you’ll let him.

His chest heaves just as painfully as yours. His pupils widen larger than yours, if possible. You watch an internal war rage behind his eyes, and you’re begging the part of him that wants you, wants this, to come out the victor. You want him to abandon all sensibility as you have.

Fuck civility. Fuck nuclear explosions. Fuck ocean waves. Fuck forest fires. Fuck friendship.

You’re past the point of return. All you want from him is his lips on your lips.

“Baby,” he whispers, a sickly sweet prayer falling from his lips, not a single ounce of malice soaked into the nickname. It’s not sweetheart. It’s not uttered in the same playful cadence as when he said it as he started up the bike. It’s not him teasing you. It’s a plea, a beg – he’s begging something of you that you’re too far gone to recognize.

But you hum in response, not knowing what he’s asking of you, opening your eyes as wide as you can manage in your moment of weakness, recognizing that his palm now fully cups your cheeks as his fingertips lazily press into your hairline. He’s closer now, leaning over you and covering you in his shadow, multiplying the darkness you reside in.

His nose bumps against yours. The oxygen you breathe in is replaced by his breath. He’s close, so terribly close, yet still so far. You’re tempted to finish the distance, but you need him to come to you. You need him to want this as much as you do, if not more.

You need to be the ocean this time. Because if you come to him, you’ll drown. You’ll descend to his darkest depths, and never find yourself above the surface again. Irreparable, collateral damage to yourself. All for wanting a man you’d claimed to hate ten hours prior.

Eddie’s freehand is grazing your hip, prepared to curl around you with force this time, to pull you into him and kiss you until the two of you are left bloodied and bruised, when your phone rings.

Both of you jump. In an instant, the closeness is lost – his hand leaves your cheek and hair, your eyes fully open, both of you stand awkwardly and flustered in the light shadows.

“I-” you don’t know what to say, hands shaking as you reach into your pocket and wretch out your phone.

JOHNNY BOY.

Jonathan is calling you, and you don’t know whether you want to commit a federal crime against him or your phone. Or maybe yourself.

You swear you can taste Eddie despite your lips never touching his. You can still feel the weight of his palm against you.

He has to take the phone from you, this time only because you’re holding it so tightly, glaring down at it so indignantly, he’s scared you might break it.

His thumb that once rested against your skin so gently is gliding across the screen, answering the call and putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hey! Eddie!” Jonathan’s voice happily calls out, and it does nothing to chip away at your fruitless fury.

He was going to kiss you, and now he can’t even look you in your eyes.

“Are you both there right now? Or is she asleep?” Jonathan continues over the line.

You finally break your silence, “I’m here. We’re both here.”

“Where are you dudes?” A second voice from Jonathan’s side of the call asks, and you recognize that warm tone immediately. Argyle.

He won’t look at you. His gaze is sturdy on the phone, as if this wasn’t just a regular phone call but a video chat, as if there’s something more interesting being reflected in the screen compared to your currently desperate face.

You want to scream at him to hang up the phone. You want to beg him to throw the damn device over the wall behind the two of you and let it fall to the street, let it shatter and let the deal be damned just so you can feel his lips on yours and taste the sweetness of his tongue.

You just want to scream, honestly. Like a child. Stomp your foot, let out a fitful shriek, and pull the boy back into you.

You don’t. Partially because you’re grown, and partially because he won’t look at you.

There’s a doubt that creeps up as Eddie says something to the two boys on the line, a shadow of doubt that is darker than the night sky hanging above you two. Maybe Eddie didn’t want this. Maybe he’d just gotten lost in the moment, and now he felt ashamed.

The scream is left in your lungs, and the blooms on your vines quiver from the insecurity its residency radiates.

“Alright,” Eddie suddenly chuckles, pulling you back into the conversation, “So, uh, did you guys call for anything else besides playing babysitter?”

“No, that’s… all,” there’s hesitation in Jonathan’s voice, words unspoken that finally makes Eddie look up to catch your gaze.

Brown eyes meet yours – you burst into flames like it’s the first time.

The shadow of doubt eviscerates in the glow of the flames, the glow of your cheeks, as you watch him take you in with careful consideration. There’s no regret in those eyes, only remarkable care. A connection, a string tying you to him, the knots first set in place that night amongst friends.

He’s looking at you like the Eddie you thought to be dead and gone.

“You sure about that?” his tone is teasing, but his face is set in stone, eyes never leaving yours, “Sounds like you’ve got more to say, Byers.”

Argyle is the one who speaks up now, “It’s not that, it’s just… The photo you dudes sent is on your motorcycle. Are you even at your apartment right now?”

“Oh, absolutely. We actually only went outside to have a photoshoot on old Nightfury here. We’re currently safely tucked into bed, don’t worry, dudes.”

Eddie’s finally cracking a grin at you, and through it you’re transported to the past. Before you is a man of possibility, someone not yet an enemy. There’s a blank page set out before the two of you, and he’s wielding the pen like a weapon to be seen.

Nightfury? You mouth at him.

He blushes in response.

Oh, you’re definitely bringing that up after this phone call. Fuck talking about the almost kiss.

“Why do you sound so sarcastic?” Argyle questions, “Are you lying to us?”

“Argy- Yes, he’s lying. Christ, where is she? Put her on the phone instead,” Jonathan sounds entertainingly frustrated at the moment, and you take a step forward, palm reaching out for your cell.

Eddie doesn’t hand it over, head tilted at you, his youth breaking through the shadows that sharpen his jaw, “No can do, boss. Already tossed her body into the canals.”

“You what-” Jonathan’s voice is shrill, and Eddie bites back his laughter as he remembers that Steve is the only one in on that inside joke amongst the three of you.

“He’s lying,” you finally call out, taking another step closer, “I’m fine. He’s… it’s a joke. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. But are you guys actually at the apartment, or not?”

“We’re not,” your honesty has Eddie playfully scowling.

I hope you kiss me when this is over. I hope you berate me for not playing along, and I hope you press me against the cold concrete behind us, and I hope you kiss me until I can’t breathe.

The version of yourself from ten hours ago is practically wailing on the floor, kicking and screaming in defeat. You don’t even care. You can admit it – you want Eddie Munson to kiss you. You don’t have to say it out loud, you don’t have to voice that want quite yet. It’s enough for your beating heart to silently admit it and accept the truth.

“Then where are you two? Jesus Christ.”

Eddie opens his mouth to answer, but you’re shaking your head with warning, knowing he’ll only lie and make things worse, “Some parking garage. Don’t worry about it.”

“Some parking gar- are you two fucking stupid? It’s one in the morning, go home,” Jonathan’s using a brotherly voice you’ve only had the pleasure of hearing on rare occasions – usually when you’ve joined him, Steve, and Robin out at the bars, and the latter two have drank well beyond their limits.

“We know what time it is,” Eddie scoffs. Now that he’s set his stare on you, he’s unrelenting. He keeps you in his line of vision as if you’re a buoy in his ocean, as if he’s capable of getting lost in his own waves.

Hopefully he is. If you can’t be an ocean to him, you hope he has to suffer in his own depths.

“We’re being safe,” you assure the two boys over the line. If you took one more step, you would brush up against Eddie. Shoulder to shoulder, cotton sleeve against leather sleeve. You don’t, but the thought still thrills you.

“Safe?” Jonathan is now scoffing, making Eddie twist his face in annoyance, which makes you want to laugh. He’s getting a taste of his own medicine. “Do you two even know our city’s crime levels? Eddie, I’ve seen you in fights, you cannot-”

“First of all, you’ve seen me in drunken fights,” Eddie snaps in interruption, finally looking down at the phone he holds, “I can throw a fucking punch when I haven’t drank my body weight in whiskey. Second of all, we’re fine. I’m sure if I can’t take whatever big, scary criminal that comes our way, little miss independent here can. She’s scarier than we give her credit for.”

Silence. You almost don’t notice the way Jonathan and Argyle have gone quiet as you’re still hung up on the nickname of little miss independent.

Eddie’s the one who steps closer this time. He glances around the empty rooftop of the parking garage, and he takes a microscopic step closer to you. It’s more of a shuffle, really, but it’s enough for your shoulders to finally brush.

“Shit, man,” Argyle is sighing over the line, as you stare at the ground and Eddie stares at you, “Nance was right.”

Eddie freezes. There’s a choking sound from the phone, and it sounds an awful lot like Jonathan.

Nance was… right?

“What was Nance right about?” you ask, looking up to Eddie quickly. You expect him to be just as confused as you are but he looks petrified.

If all his blood hadn’t drained from his expression, he’d surely be blushing. But he’s stark pale beneath the moonlight, eyes glued to the screen as if Argyle could see his death stare over the line. He looks like a man caught red-handed. You have to look over his palms, the one holding your phone as well as the one quickly being shoved awkwardly into his pocket, just to double check that the skin there isn’t painted maroon.

“What was Nancy right about?” you repeat yourself, but the question is less directed at the phone now. You don’t care about Argyle or Jonathan’s answer – you care about Eddie’s, “What did she sa-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jonathan interrupts, “We’ve gotta go, but there’s no need for you guys to send a photo this hour. We, uh, we’re the only ones awake probably, so… consider this your official hourly check in. Please, stay safe.”

“Talk later, my dudes!” Argyle yells in the background.

The line goes dead. The black screen returns to flash both yours and Eddie’s face in the reflection. One looks overexposed, left out in the light for far too long, and the other looks shadowed, as if having been left behind in the dark.

You’ve been left in the dark. Whatever just happened between the three boys, you’re clueless to it.

You have to put your hand out for Eddie to give back the phone, still looking far more nervous than he was before the phone call. All the cocky attitude, all the hints of teasing, all the almost kisses are gone.

Now’s a perfect opportunity to grill him on what Nancy said. He obviously knows, and if you were smart, you’d dig your heels in and force an explanation from it. You deserve answers; after an exchange of apologies and a quiet acceptance from both of you at giving this a real chance tonight, you deserve to not be left as the odd one out still.

“Why is your bike named Nightfury?”

Except it’s not the perfect opportunity. If you ask him now, he’ll deny knowing anything about it. You’ve learned a lot about Eddie in the last ten hours, and the major discovery has been the way in which he uncurls pieces of himself for your eyes only. He is slow and shy in being observed, and he won’t offer honesty when put on the spot like that.

If you change the topic, if you let it slide, he might tell you on his own time. You’re praying he tells you on his own time.

He looks taken back by your question, watching as you tuck your phone away into the pocket of his sweats that rest on your hips, “What?”

“You mentioned your bike’s name is Nightfury,” you shrug nonchalantly, “Is it some superhero reference I’m not getting? It’s fitting, but I just… I don’t know. I’m intrigued, I guess.”

“Superhero reference? Uh, no, not quite,” he scrunches up his face, and you recall the weight of his palm on your cheek. The almost taste of his lips almost on yours, “It’s- Jesus Christ, now I wish it was a superhero reference. The truth is so lame.”

You break a smile and bump your shoulder against his, trying to shake the racing of your heart, “Can’t be more lame than all your action figures back home.”

“Didn’t you say they were actually cool?”

“I actually called them creepy, if I’m recalling correctly.”

The two of you move as a unit, gliding over to the concrete ledge that over looks the city, simultaneously leaning your full body weight onto your forearms as Eddie digs out a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket’s pocket.

He catches you eyeballing them, and immediately shakes his head, tapping the top of the carton against the palm of his hand (the same palm that was once cradling your face so gently), “I’m not sharing my cigs. Fuck off.”

There’s no malice, and that’s probably the only reason that, once he’s pulled his own cigarette out of the pack and discarded it onto the concrete in front of the two of you, you immediately shoot a hand out to take one. You await for him to snap at you, to smack your hand away, to repeat himself.

He stays silent as you pull one for yourself. Offers his lighter, even, once the end of his glows cherry red.

You wish he would just lean over and occupy your space again, cup his hand around the end of the cigarette that is dangerously close to your cheek, let the flint fueled flame flicker between you as your gasoline fueled embers sparked to life again. You wish, you wish, and you wish. And he doesn’t. He doesn’t even meet your eyes as you pass the lighter back and inhale the smoke.

You hold it until his fingertips brush the palm of your hand, before you exhale sharply.

“It’s from How to Train Your Dragon.”

You have your cigarette halfway to your mouth, leaving it hovering as you side-eye him, “What?”

“Nightfury. It’s from the movie, How to Train Your Dragon. The, uh, main dragon, Toothless, is a Nightfury.”

Oh, Jesus Christ. You already wanted to kiss him badly enough, already found your defenses drooping limply when it came to him, and then he had to go and say shit like that.

“You named your motorcycle,” you start slowly, tilting your head in his direction, “After an animated movie? Cute, although I don’t think scary metalheads like yourself were the intended audience.”

Your words make the corners of his mouth twitch. Smoke curls out from the center of his lips, puckered in consideration as he turns his gaze to the buildings towering around you. “I’m a massive nerd who holds a weekly D&D club and collects mythical creature figurines. I am exactly their intended audience.”

“You have a D&D club?”

You’ve learned a lot about Eddie tonight. And yet, every new discovery you uncover continues to surprise you.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he laughs quietly into the night air, “You saw the inside of my apartment, did you really not see the whole Dungeons and Dragons bit coming?”

You shrug, still watching him watch the city, “I… I don’t know. Contrary to belief, I really don’t know much about you. A shame, really.”

“Are you trying to say you’d like to know more about me, sweetheart?”

Yes. “God, no. I think I’ve had my fill of Eddie Munson Jeopardy for the night, thank you very much.”

You want to know the name of his band, you want him to ramble on about the game you know nothing about, you want him to elaborate more on his love for How to Train Your Dragon. You’re brimming with wants, overflowing your cup with curiosity. He shouldn’t intrigue you this way. It’s dangerous – you don’t know where you’ll put all this information when the night ends and you two part ways, both five hundred dollars richer and returning to the hatred that had been established.

Was it even hatred anymore? Or had it morphed into a softened version of itself, something more akin to indifference?

“Hey, Eddie,” you watch your cigarette burn away at itself, think of it like your insides as the flecks of ash fly off into the wind of their own accord, “What happens after tonight?”

You’ve caught him off guard; he’s not expecting the question, and it occurs to you he’s just as unsure as you are.

He doesn’t know where to go from here either.

“I dunno,” he murmurs. His arm shifts, and the hand that has his cigarette tucked between the fingers is now resting beside your own, “What do you want to happen after tonight?”

I want everything to change. I want to laugh with you again. I want to see you when we’re out with our friends and for you to smile instead of scowl.

You just shrug, and it makes your shoulders brush again, his leather crinkling against the movement, “Nothing has to change. We can… We can pretend it was all a bad dream, if you want. Although I’m definitely referring to your motorcycle as Toothless from now on.”

“No one will believe you,” he scoffs, ignoring your comment on nothing changing. But the curl of his lips had faded instantaneously, a subtle change that would have been missed if you weren’t watching him so closely. But you were. You noticed. You’d probably never be able to not notice. Even when he returns to scowling, even when he’s returned to the bottom of his ocean and you’re left with legs too weak to continue kicking in an effort to keep you afloat, “But… yeah. Yeah, it can all just be a…. Dream.”

Dream. Not a bad dream, just a dream.

“It’s weird that we don’t have to take a photo, right?” you’re quick to change the subject, to avoid deep diving into his implications.

It should give him whiplash, but he seems completely unaffected as he waves a hand around the open air in front of you two, “Not really. But we could still take one, if you want, though. Just for us.”

Just for us. A stolen moment and a blanket of security that this night existed, that it wasn’t just a shared fever dream and that it was all real. The Eddie you first met still exists six feet under, you two managed civility, and it was real.

“We could,” you agree, a bit too eager for your liking, “I mean, it’s a pretty view. We shouldn’t waste it.”

He doesn’t comment on the fact that he’s mentioned he comes here often, that this is a space he finds himself running to, just like the bar. He bites his tongue just as he had when you’d stolen a cigarette for yourself. A cigarette now wasted, because you hadn’t taken another drag in far too many minutes.

The hand that rested beside yours so casually inches closer, pinkies beginning to overlap. “Exactly.”

Your hand shakes the entire time as you reach into your pocket and produce the phone, as you hover the camera to perfectly capture your two hands and the cars that are so small in comparison on the streets below. Overlapping pinkies become hooked, twisted together, and you’re not sure if it was you or Eddie that took that final step.

You leave the flash off as two cigarettes glow orange like a sunset, like the ending to a beginning you’ve been hurtling towards at full force with Eddie this entire night.

It’s a nice photo.

Eddie lowly whistles as he glances over at the screen and the barely blurry photo displayed, “That’s a good one. We’ve gotta put it in the scrapbook, for sure.”

“The scrapbook?” you giggle, still memorizing every detail of the moment frozen in time, “What are we going to call it? ‘The Night Y/N and Eddie Didn’t Hate Each Other’?”

“The name can be a work in progress. After all, the night is still young. Maybe murder is still on the table and it can get shown on our Dateline special.”

You snort, and he grins. Your pinkies are still interlocked.

“Imagine the name of that episode. Just Keith Morrison narrating our greatest hits,” you muse as the breeze picks up around the two of you. It’s nice, cool and relieving from the flames that have been building and creeping up your wrist.

Both cigarettes are wasting away now; neither of you are willing to let go of the contact long enough to properly smoke them.

It’s as if he’s noticing it, too, as he curls his hold even tighter, a subtle squeeze you return without thinking. It’s just a small touch, a miniscule connection between the two of you, but it feels bigger than anything before. It’s larger than the almost kiss, it’s larger than his apology, it’s larger than everything. That’s what it is – it’s nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it’s everything to you. A rebuilding and rekindling of all the paths not taken.

Eddie pulls you from everything suddenly, not by pulling away his pinky, but by putting on his best Keith Morrison impression, “Two enemies, one apartment, an unfortunate series of city canals. Hatred is a fine line to dance, but just how far can one young woman go when a twenty-two year old man takes things too far. Tonight, on Dateline…”

Your free hand shoves at his shoulders, and his pinky clings stiffly to yours to keep his balance, “Shut up! Why am I the one murdering you? I’m a helpless woman! If anyone’s getting murked, it’s me.”

“Oh please, sweetheart, that’s exactly why you’d be the one to get away with it! No one suspects the sweet college girl who lives in the dorm down the hall to murder the big, bad wolf,” he cackles, returning to lean into your space tauntingly as he sets the scene, “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t throw my ass into those canals if given the chance.”

I wouldn’t. “I’m about ten seconds away from it.”

“Yeah?”

No. “Yeah.”

“Well, that’s hot.”

You remember his whimpers from the bathroom suddenly, and bloom into color. Instead of answering his banter, you bite your lip and look harshly down at your conjoined hands. Pinky in pinky, cigarettes dying down together. The burning end has neared where your fingers clench on the filter, and you tell yourself that that’s the source of the heat coursing through your body. It has to be, because it certainly can be the effect of Eddie. Eddie, touching himself. Eddie, moaning. Eddie, definitely not stubbing his toe.

Flames and oceans, you remind yourself, flames and oceans do not mix. Can not mix.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks with certainty, the cadence in his voice fading into something of serious discussion. The playfulness is still there, just more subdued, “And can it… not cause some big fight between us this time?”

Well, that can’t be good. “Go for it.”

“I told you why I hate you, so… why do you hate me?”

You understand his request immediately; it’s a loaded question, no doubt.

Why do I hate you?

For the life of you, you can’t pinpoint an exact moment. And unlike Eddie, you’re willing to tell him the truth, you want to reward him with honesty. The time of avoidant answers has passed for you, and you want to bare your soul to him in a peculiar sense.

“I- Okay, I don’t know exactly why,” you begin, considering finally disconnecting your pinky from his before deciding against it, “So I’ll talk you through it, but no interruptions, okay?”

“Okay. I’d pinky swear, but, y’know,” he raises your hands into the air ever-so-slightly, acknowledging the position he’s put you two in for the first time in the entire conversation.

You both laugh at the sentiment before you continue on.

“I’d like to preface this with the fact I know you won’t tell me the truth about this, even the others can’t tell me the truth about it, so don’t think of this as me seeking out answers. I’m the one offering an explanation, not you. So…just…” you take a sharp breath in and catch his eyebrows shooting up into his bangs from the corner of your eyes. You can’t look at him head on, a lingering fear of showing this type of vulnerability with him being impossible to shake, “That first night we met. You were nice, right? You were nice, we got along, and then… Then I went to the bathroom. And I came back, and suddenly, you… you weren’t nice. You weren’t quite mean, not yet, but you certainly weren’t acting the same anymore. And I don’t know why you changed, I don’t care,” An absolute lie. You cared. You cared so assiduously, far more than you should, to know why, “But after that, you were just… cold, I guess? And it all built up. I thought it was a game at first, I gave up trying to be friends and decided whatever was happening between us might be normal. You’d give short answers, so I gave short answers. You’d insult me or make fun of me, so I’d insult you or make fun of you. It was just a game. Until you got mean.”

A siren flashes by on the street below, and you can’t even make out the sound of his breathing. Now feels like a good time to pull away your pinky, to take a final drag of your cigarette, to leave behind his burning touch. The moment you try, he completely traps your finger between his pinky and ring finger.

He’s not letting you go without a fight.

You’re tired of fighting him.

“I actually think it took me a while to really hate you back, y’know? I think I was still holding onto this... this childish hope that you didn’t mean to be cruel. Or that you were just jealous of me intruding on your friend group – you told me yourself that you guys go all the way back to high school. I was this invader, and I excused your cruelty for a really long time because of it, because I told myself I understood. But then… six months ago, I stopped understanding. I had to admit defeat and hate you because you didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“Steve’s party.”

He says it so quietly, you almost miss it. He sounds remorseful, he sounds sad, he sounds regretful, he sounds mournful.

“Steve’s party,” you confirm just as quietly. Your pinky is slack against his as his grip finally loosens, “That night, everything you said… It finally felt personal. From the minute I got there, you were just… awful. You knew exactly where to hit me when I was down. And it took me shattering Steve’s poor glass to realize you really do hate me. You hate me, so I hate you.”

It’s out there, the truth – your only reason for hating Eddie Munson was because he hated you. It was based on a worthless principle. Born out of necessity, you had forced yourself to hate the man who currently has your pinky wrapped around his, who had pledged his protection over you with the same mouth that had claimed he’d never miss you if you evaporated from his life.

The hate would always be there. It wouldn’t wash away with his waves, and it wouldn’t turn to ash from your flames. You couldn’t get your hopes up that one night could fix it all.

“I was a dick that night. I know I’ve already said sorry but… I’m sorry,” he finds his reply in the darkness, in a hushed tone. Quiet and ridden with shame.

His pinky falls even more slack with yours as if he’s silently offering to let you go, as if the memory of what he’d done is enough to remind him you aren’t his to keep. But you’ve already given up the fight – your pinky stays with his.

“You were a dick,” you agree, “But I know you’re sorry now, it’s just a matter of… accepting it. Letting it go. I’ve not exactly been innocent in this. Remember Chrissy Cunningham?”

He laughs dryly, clearly recalling the blonde you’d caught him out on a date with.

“Jesus, fuck. Yeah, I remember Chris. I never did get a second date.”

“Because of me,” you try to tease, doing as he would and leaning your bicep into his.

He nods, “Because of you.”

You’d been extra spiteful that night. It was before Steve’s party, even. The moment you’d seen them in that booth, Chrissy giggling far too much at each of what had to have been Eddie’s terrible jokes, watching her perfectly manicured hand settle on his shoulder, you had been out for blood.

You’d approached them, and made Chrissy believe Eddie was already your husband. You’d even switched one of the rings on your right hand to your left ring finger. An entire debacle had been made in that diner, and Eddie looked ready to murder you when Chrissy had left and murmured something about ‘calling him later’ as you continued to credit him for being an absolute cheater.

She never did call. You must have really sold the entire lie with your crocodile tears.

“I was a bitch that night,” you supply as you let your cigarette finally drop from between your fingers, hitting the concrete as it begins to sizzle out, “So… I’m sorry. And we’re even.”

Eddie steals his cigarette into his other hand and takes a final drag before he properly puts it out, “Looking back now, it’s kind of fucking funny. Seriously. Did you know I knew her in high school?”

You don’t expect his lighthearted response, but you take it in full stride with a squeeze from your pinky, “What?”

“Yup. She never gave me the time of day back then. And after our date, I found out she’d been already trying to get back with her on-again, off-again boyfriend from back then,” he shrugs, turning to glance at you, “Guess I wasn’t the cheater.”

“Jesus, I’m sorr-”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize for her. Apologize for the fact you never even signed a prenup with me, or invited me to our wedding, wife.”

That makes you break. You both laugh so hard you have no choice but to relinquish your hold on each other, bringing your hands up to laugh freely into your palms.

“I am so sorry, my dear husband,” you taunt, “Maybe I’ll remember to invite you to the renewal of our vows in five years time.”

“Five years?” he crinkles his nose, shaking his head harshly, nearly tearing his curls from his makeshift bun, “Fuck that. I never even got to say my vows the first time. You owe me a wedding, princess.”

“You never bought me a ring.”

“My bad,” you barely squeak out before you succumb to even more laughter. Eddie’s dimples shine as he joins you, looking to the ground as his shoulders shake.

He sighs deeply once the two of you compose yourselves, turning and leaning his back onto the ledge, staring out at the empty parking lot, “Where should we have our honeymoon? I’m thinking the diner would consider hosting us, even after your fiasco.”

“The diner?” you feign offense and mimic his position, “Fuck that,” you parrot his words right back, “You’re taking me to Paris, pretty boy.”

It’s a deliberate choice; the nickname doesn’t slip carelessly this time. It’s said with a conviction that makes Eddie blush, that makes him look at you with dark eyes.

“Pretty boy and sweetheart,” he mumbles, gaze flickering down your face, “We make quite the odd married couple. I don’t know how they’d feel about us in Europe.”

“They’d certainly stop and stare at first glance,” you play along, still giggling quietly, “But I think then they’d see just how in love we obviously are and just….” you pause and let your eyes flutter shut for dramatic effect, not catching sight of the way he suddenly melts for you, “Swoon.”

You don’t see it, but he’s looking at you like he’s about to kiss you again.

“Here,” he suddenly says, fiddling with his fingers when you snap your eyes back open, “Allow me, Edward Munson, to vow myself to you…. Uh….” he pauses as he realizes he doesn’t know your full name, and so you jokingly lean in and whisper it to him as if you aren’t the only two up here. He repeats it back as if he’d always known it, and you’re both back to giggling, “In sickness or in health. In hatred or in murder. In…. bets and from this day forward.”

He’s holding one of his rings, one decorated with a chunky skull, and motions for your hand. You offer it and allow him to slide the ring on with as much ease as he had slid the helmet onto you.

It fits a bit big, but you both look down at it as if it’s the world’s greatest gift.

“Wow,” you breathe out, your hand still cupped by his, “It’s certainly no diamond.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Allow me to just go to the twenty-four hour diamond shop and get something more to your taste, my beloved,” he goads, finally dropping your hand.

The metal is warm on the inner ring from his skin, searing into you just as his touch does.

“You sure know how to commit to a bit, Munson,” you murmur beneath your breath, lifting your hand to inspect the ring more closely. You’ve never paid much mind to his rings before, only ever knowing that they were there and they were a staple to his look.

“That I do, wife,” he grins widely, boyish in his suddenly shy stance, “You’re already wearing my sweats and my shirt, why not add the ring? Complete the look?”

“Complete the look,” you repeat and shake your head, shrugging, “Okay, fine. But just for tonight.”

Just for tonight, because after tonight, nothing changes. Your heart pangs at the thought but you don’t let your smile or joking demeanor fade with him.

“Of course, of course,” he waves the hand that is now one ring lighter, “Just for tonight. Come morning light, everything goes back to normal. No one has to know you spent the night married to me, sweetheart.”

“I mean, I’ve already moved in for the night,” you remark, looking up into his eyes, “We have moved quite quickly, haven’t we?”

“We have. All that’s left is consummating the marriage, or whatever,” he shimmies a shoulder into you, turning to face the motorcycle, “Speaking of home, we should get going before any scary criminals show up and you have to beat them up for me.”

Your cheeks are burning red, your hand is carrying his ring and flames, “Oh, I’m sorry. We are so not brushing right past the fact you know the word consummate.”

It’s easy. Being with him is easy, on fire or not. It is easier to enjoy him and joke with him, fall into civility with him, than to force yourself to hate him. You don’t care if tonight changes nothing for him; it changes everything for you.

“I’m brighter than I look, doll.”

It is easy to burn for him. For tonight, and for the rest of your life, quite possibly.

He picks the helmet up off of the seat and holds it out for you as you follow him, immediately making you grumble in protest as you take it without a fight.

You decide to take one last chance before the helmet separates the two of you again. One last way to tell him you don’t hate him, you don’t know if you ever hated him, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever hate him.

“You know, I think we skipped a step,” you flip the helmet, not meeting his eyes this time, mustering all your bravery, “Usually, you have to kiss your bride, then consummate the marriage.”

Quiet. He’s too quiet.

You’ve stunned him into silence, and you take it as a sign that you’ve gone too far. You’ve brought the almost kiss back up in the most indirect of ways, and you regret it immediately.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately try to rectify, “I- that was dumb. Bad joke. I… I’ll leave the bits to you.”

You don’t give him a chance to reply as you shove on the helmet, much less gracefully than he had put it on you, and wait for him to get on the bike.

No words are exchanged. You can’t see if he’s blushing through the tint of the visor. You convince yourself that he’s only tense as you climb onto the bike behind him because he’s uncomfortable now, because you’ve breached a limit you’d never even noticed.

Of course he wasn’t going to kiss you. Of course you shouldn’t have mentioned it, let alone joked about it. You’re an idiot. Even in civility, you’re an idiot.

He drives even faster to the apartment this time, which is dangerous considering you don’t grip him nearly as tightly.

A game of fate you should have realized is dangerous to play. It is dangerous to burn for him, because he does not burn for you. This fire is one-sided and self-destructive, and although it is easy, you should have known better. The hating him is safer than the wanting him. The fury is safer than the yearning. The glasses shattered were safer than the moments shattered.

You arrive back at the apartment. He parks the bike. You return the helmet to him.

You walk up the stairs ahead of him. You don’t speak to him. You twist the ring he gave you.

You keep your head down at the door. He rustles with his keys.

The burning is too easy. You should have known better.

But then, he says your name, keys still hanging from the lock of the door to apartment 2C.

You look up at him, and wonder if he sees your embers, clear as day. You wonder if he’s about to tell you to collect your things and inform the others that the bet is off, that the two of you will scrounge together the money you owe them and forget the night ever happened.

“Tonight changes nothing, right?” he questions once he has your full attention. You can only nod, ignoring the sharp pain of reality, “Nothing that happens tonight has to matter, right?”

You swallow hard. “Right.”

He’s the one nodding now, seemingly lost in thought.

This is it. This is the part it all ends.

“Great,” he finally concedes, voice raspy. You’re about to parrot back the sentiment when his hands are suddenly back in your hair, and his breath is back against your cheek, "Then fuck it."

This time, almosts don’t cut it. He kisses you, and he tastes like salt water as he meets your ash.

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#twenty four hours #my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #i am nervous for this one jesus fuck #shaking as i post it but the show must go on!#gonna go offline for several hours now #or just simply read bluey's newest story hehe #no one look at me

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

compromise (explicit)

genre: twilight AU, straight-up cracky-ass porn, do not look @ me

pairing: vampire!taehyung x human!reader x werewolf!jungkook

summary: you're torn between the two loves of your life - but maybe you don't have to choose.

word count: 10k 😬

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ no seriously like i wrote this with my dick it is EXCLUSIVELY twilight-flavored porn sdhfjdkgsdf - taehyung is a vampire, jungkook is a werewolf, reader is in love with both of them, they can't stand each other, yktfv !!!! this is actually an incredibly poorly negotiated threesome, so uh, don't do it like this kids!!!!! just enjoy the filth 🫡 which specifically contains: a m/m/f threesome ft. mid-sex jealousy lol, biting, nipple play, clit stim and fingering, clit biting 💀, cunnilingus, spitting, neck.... licking?, a lot of body temperature descriptions bc we're sticking to steph's hot/cold lore bc i think it's funny idk, blowjobs/throat fucking, spit-roasting, first times, unprotected sex, some mildly improbable sex positions because they both have superhuman strength lmfao, a smidge of dirty talk/praise kink, ass play, anal sex, good ol' DP, annnnnd the grand finale: neck-biting and blood-drinking 🤭 also tae and jk throw "slurs" like 'leech' and 'dog' at each other the whole time sdfsdfjkf 💜

A/N: SURPRISE! AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I WILL NOT BE EXPLAINING MYSELF BUT UHHHH ENJOY SOME NONSENSE!!!!

thank you to @haliiimede for the incredible banner 🥺

read on AO3!

~*~

You’ve been on edge all evening, watching, waiting.

As the sun slips below the horizon and reddens the sky on its departure, you try not to read it as an omen of what’s to come. Night pours out black like it always does, dark blanketing the lush green outside your bedroom window, but your stomach refuses to untwist.

Not even the touch of Taehyung’s hand can settle your nerves, despite how familiar it is, cold as ice, hard as marble. He’d climbed in your window at dusk, the way he’s done every night for months now, but tonight the air between you is heavy. Tonight you can barely look at him.

“Jagiya,” his hundred-year-old voice drips, sweet like honey, rich like blood in the quiet of your room. “What’s wrong?”

You haven’t even opened your mouth to answer when his head snaps up, clearly alerted by some sound your weak human ears have yet to pick up on.

Right on time, then.

“Tae,” you murmur softly, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek. Your thumb strokes lovingly over the flawless perfection of his face as your human eyes meet his: rich ochre, deep enough to drown in. He’s well-fed; you made sure that would be the case when you planned this. You need every possible element on your side tonight.

He cuts you off with a growl before you can say more than his name. “Why is that dog here?”

The word spat through his clenched teeth sends a fresh wave of anxiety spiraling through your bloodstream. “Please don’t call him that, Tae.” Your voice is barely more than a whisper. “He’s my best friend. I wanted the three of us to talk.”

You realize you can hear it now, coming up the road: the distant but unmistakable rattle of Jungkook’s motorcycle. It draws closer and closer, until it’s underscored by the crunch of gravel as he pulls into the driveway. When Jungkook finally kills the engine, the silence in your bedroom feels loud.

Taehyung doesn’t speak, but you can tell he’s furious, every muscle in his body pulled tight. His hands curl into fists, flexing restlessly at his sides, and even the well-defined line of his jaw jumps like he’s holding back the urge to tear something apart.

You do the only thing you can think of to calm your boyfriend: you take his face in your hands and pull him in for a deep kiss.

As your lips touch, it finally sinks in: how scared you are about tonight– you’re shaking like a leaf in Taehyung’s arms, even though you know he’d never hurt you. At least not purposefully.

The heat of your mouth seems to distract Taehyung a little, but there’s still fury in his kiss, in the soft growls that he can’t quite suppress as his tongue rolls over yours.

Your bedroom door creaks on its hinges, and you pull away from Taehyung just in time to see a bright smile drop off Jungkook’s face as he stands in the threshold. Your heart plummets into your stomach. Three seconds in and you’ve already ruined everything. How very human of you.

Moving an inch back from Taehyung, you unwind your arms from around his neck and try to regard both of them at once. This conversation suddenly feels much harder to navigate than you’d anticipated.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you say softly. Your best friend is practically glowering in the doorway now.

“I thought you wanted to talk. I don’t need to see him turn you. Or suck your soul out, or whatever.”

You try to stay calm, because someone has to. “It was just a kiss, Jungkook. I meant it, I do want to talk.” Your gaze flits from Jungkook to Taehyung. “To both of you.” As your eyes find Jungkook’s again, you pat the bedspread on your other side. “Will you come sit down?”

Taehyung makes a noise so otherworldly that chills rip up your spine, enough to make you shiver. “He’s fine where he is.”

“Tae,” you turn back to him, your face twisted with emotion. “Please.”

Jungkook crosses into the room with an unhurried confidence despite the slight hesitation in his steps, as if he’s preparing for your boyfriend to lunge at any moment but sure he’d win the fight. To your surprise, he doesn’t follow the path you’d indicated to join you and Taehyung. Instead, he moves to stand in front of you at the foot of the bed, and then–

Your jaw drops as Jungkook, still slow, still confident, sinks to his knees in front of you and Taehyung.

“How’s this?”

“Swearing your loyalty, mutt?” Taehyung snaps.

Jungkook doesn’t even look at him. “Not to you.”

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you murmur softly. “And thank you for coming here. And I’m sorry I haven’t told either of you why.”

“You didn’t even tell me he was coming!” Taehyung interjects, indignant, and you sigh.

“You’re right. And I should have. But you can see why I was scared to, right? I didn’t think either of you would agree if you knew you’d be in the same room.”

They both shrug a little, like they can’t argue with that.

It all starts to well up in your chest before you can focus on remaining rational, the way you’d planned to. The emotions, the pain. Your very human weaknesses.

“I don’t think you two realize how hard this is for me. How hard it is that you feel the way you do about each other,” you begin. “Neither of you can know what it’s like to wake up and feel like you’re being torn in half. But that’s every day for me.”

Jungkook tries to say your name, but falls quiet again when you shake your head.

“It doesn’t feel fair. Any of this. It’s not fair that you’re both…” you pause, searching for the word. “…superhuman, something I may never understand. It’s not fair that I love you both, in such different but equally strong ways, so much sometimes that it feels like my heart might give out. And it’s not fair that you hate each other. That you can’t even be in the same room.”

Taehyung’s icy touch on your skin makes you shiver, and you realize he’s wiping away errant tears that have started to roll down your face.

“And it’s not fair,” you continue, “that you expect me to choose. That there’s supposed to be an answer here. I’ve nearly lost each of you trying to figure it out. So my choice is that I won’t choose. I don’t want either of you if I can’t have both of you.”

“What?!” Taehyung’s eyes flash when he pulls back, as quickly as if you’d just slapped him.

“Listen to me,” you command, your voice laced with determination now. “Taehyung. I love you. You are my soulmate. My person. I want to spend the rest of our lives with you.” You sniff a little, taking a big breath in, and your chest shakes as you let it out again. “But all of that is also true of Jungkook. And I’m tired of pretending it’s not.”

Taehyung blinks, dazed, like he can't believe what you’re saying. When you glance down at Jungkook, still knelt on the floor, a smile is ghosting over his mouth.

“That leech really didn’t understand our bond, huh?” Jungkook asks softly, as if only you can hear the question. “Didn’t understand that I was the one who was there for you, who picked up the pieces when he fucked off to Paris to—”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off, your tone a warning. “Stop. This goes both ways. I love you, but you also need to understand that my feelings for Taehyung are just as strong. That’s not changing even though we’ve hurt each other. We’ve all hurt each other.”

Jungkook falls silent again, and you turn your gaze back to Taehyung. Your heart aches at the unmistakable betrayal you see in his eyes.

“Taehyung,” you breathe. “Please. I can’t be without you. Without either of you. I’m just asking you to try. For me.”

“Well, I don’t need to mull it over.” Before you have a chance to react to his words, Jungkook surges up and kisses you hard on the mouth, and you make a soft noise of surprise against his lips.

You know you should pull away and tell him to stop, but Jungkook’s touch is warm enough to melt, and you lose your focus as your whole world is knocked entirely off-axis. Your head spins when his tongue traces over your bottom lip, and it’s suddenly hard to think about anything else.

Taehyung growls, low in his throat, like the distant rumble of thunder. It’s enough to drag you back, and you break the kiss with a gasp.

As if he can read the expression on your face, Jungkook wordlessly drops down onto the bed on the other side of you. You slide a hand over the firm muscles of his thigh, giving him a reassuring squeeze before turning to face your boyfriend.

Taehyung’s gaze traces over the floorboards, and it’s clear a thousand thoughts are running through his mind, thoughts you wish you could hear for yourself.

“Please hear me, Tae,” you try again, your voice low. “I want you. All of you. Intimately. I know you want that too.” The subject makes his gaze snap up, and you reach for him, a desperate attempt to try and keep him with you.

When you grab Taehyung’s hand, his ice-cold skin is a shock compared to the heat of Jungkook’s body under your other palm. But it’s familiar, it’s comforting, the touch of this man, whom you love so intensely that it terrifies you.

“And I know you’ve been scared to try. Scared of yourself and what might happen,” you continue, and Taehyung nods slowly, his eyes searching yours. “But… maybe this is it. Doesn’t it make sense? If Jungkook is here, it might be easier for you to stay in control with me.”

“And I can protect her if you don’t,” Jungkook adds with a smirk.

“So please, Taehyung.”

He stares at you, and you stare back, waiting for his answer. It finally comes in his husky voice, spoken as reverently as a prayer.

“I would do anything for you.”

The admission is chased by his hand at the back of your neck, pulling you in for a fierce kiss. You’re so relieved that you feel yourself near the verge of tears again, despite the icy thrill that dots up your spine as his mouth moves against yours. Taehyung’s teeth just barely scrape over your bottom lip, and you can’t help whimpering into his mouth in response. Like he’s trying to keep up, you almost instantly feel the heat of Jungkook’s mouth against your skin, his lips and tongue trailing down your neck and along the stretch of your shoulder. You make another soft noise at the way his hands start to roam over your body, restless, searching.

“Take my clothes off,” you pull away from Taehyung’s mouth to command, your eyes flitting up to his. “Let me give myself to you.” You turn to Jungkook. “To both of you.”

In a flash, Jungkook has your shirt over your head, and then it’s his turn to find your lips again, and he’s somehow even more passionate than when he first kissed you tonight.

“So fucking perfect,” Jungkook growls between kisses, and the rasp in his voice makes your nipples tighten under the thin fabric of your bralette. “Wanted this for so long.”

While Jungkook licks into your mouth, Taehyung’s nimble fingers find their way to the button of your jeans, and you lean back on your hands to give him better access. His touch is delicate as he undoes your zipper and starts to shimmy the denim down your legs.

“You too,” you break away from Jungkook to murmur, and you reach down to finish pulling your pants off. “I want to see you both.”

As they each move back from you to stand and disrobe, there’s a tense moment where Taehyung and Jungkook regard each other, and then Jungkook lunges and you scream.

You squeeze your eyes shut at a terrifying sound of something being ripped apart. Panic rises in your chest and makes it impossible to breathe— you don’t know why this was a good idea, you don’t know what you expected, of course this could never work, how stupid could you be— and then you hear Taehyung huff a dark laugh, seemingly unharmed, and your eyes snap open.

And he is. He’s fine. His shirt, however, has been reduced to tatters on your bedroom floor. Jungkook’s smirk is that of a cat who’s just swallowed a canary.

“Very mature of you, mongrel. I take it I’m meant to repay the favor?” Taehyung scoffs, and you keep your eyes open to watch him easily tear Jungkook’s shirt from his body, as if it were made of tissue paper. Your head spins.

Attempting to remember how to breathe is made all the more difficult when you watch them both strip down to their boxers. Your heart flutters in your chest as you realize in this moment how truly beautiful they both are.

Jungkook’s body in particular takes you aback– despite still having the enviably small waist you’ve always teased him for, the rest of him has certainly filled out over the years. He’s broad-shouldered and thick, with firm definition in his arms and abdominals that ripple as he reaches down to shimmy out of his pants.

It’s hard to believe this is the same kid you spent your childhood summers with, sharing secrets and making up stories, the one you used to call ‘Boba Ball’ or ‘Triangle Kimbap’ during the years he refused to cut his hair.

In stark contrast, Taehyung’s body feels like coming home. He’s striking as he always is, all long, lean muscles, a hand-carved statue come to life. Though it’s well into the dead of night now, you swear you can still see the glimmer shifting under his skin, like he’s stepping into full sunlight as he moves toward you. He’s just as brilliant, just as blinding, even in the dim light of your bedroom. Perfection incarnate.

You know it for a fact, can feel it thrumming behind your ribs, as true as the steady beat of your human heart. You love them both, unconditionally and irrevocably.

“Jagiya,” Taehyung breathes as he stands over you where you sit at the edge of the bed. “You’re glowing.” His hand cups your cheek, and you turn your head to press a kiss to the freezing center of his palm.

“I’m so happy, Tae,” you whisper, and he’s smiling softly when you glance back up.

“That’s all I want.”

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and then Jungkook steps in beside him, and it’s like every piece in your heart slots perfectly into place.

“Are you ready?” Jungkook asks. Their superhuman reflexes move so quickly, you feel like you’ve only just begun to nod when two sets of hands are already on you, dragging you up to the head of the bed like you’re light as a feather.

Together, they push you down into the mattress, and then two mouths start to trace over every inch of your skin they can find. They alternate fluidly, everywhere at once: the brush of full lips, the sharp-sweet bite of teeth, the wet wash of a tongue. Your eyes roll back at the overwhelming sensations, and though you can initially tell them apart by the sharp contrast in their skin temperature, it all eventually melds together in your mind until you’re not sure where Taehyung ends and Jungkook begins.

The four hands on your body make quick work of stripping you out of your bralette and panties, and you’re whimpering and writhing and drenched with arousal when a warm tongue circles your nipple while a cold hand starts to creep up towards your center.

Jungkook sucks firmly on the stiff bud in his mouth, and you keen. “Fuck, Koo, oh god.”

Not to be outdone, you feel Taehyung’s teeth very lightly graze over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and your hips shudder as you groan again.

There’s a wet pop as Jungkook releases your breast from his mouth with a soft laugh. “She squirms.”

“She does.” Taehyung’s breath ghosts over your entrance as he answers. He presses a glossy kiss to the crease of your thigh, then slips two smooth, delicate fingers into the wet heat of your pussy, and you outright moan.

“She’s vocal,” Jungkook remarks.

Taehyung crooks his fingers to make you cry out again, and he falls into a steady stroking motion. “She is.”

“You’ve done this before?”

Your breath coming in shallow pants now, you manage to lift yourself up onto your forearms and interject. “We’ve never– not all the way.”

Taehyung smirks at Jungkook as his digits squelch inside of you. “We’ve done enough.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to your face, and you meet his gaze. He cups one of your breasts in his hand, massaging it in his palm before taking the peak of your nipple between his fingers. You whine as he gently rolls the bud in a circle. “What have you done?” he asks, his voice softer this time.

“What do you think, jagi?” Taehyung answers confidently before you can respond, your pussy still gripping tight around his fingers. “Want to show wolfboy here how well you suck my cock?”

Heat flushes your face at the thought, and Jungkook practically snarls down the bed at Taehyung. “Or maybe you can show me how you eat her out, and then I’ll show you how it’s really done.”

Taehyung’s expression falters just the slightest amount, but it’s enough for Jungkook’s keen senses to notice. “Wait– you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shake your head, struggling to keep up, your mind fighting not to give into the euphoria of their hands continuing to work your body. “We haven’t. Tae’s not–”

“What, not a man?” Jungkook snaps, paired with a tug of your nipple. “I could’ve told you that.”

The sigh that escapes your mouth is edged with a moan as Taehyung’s thumb brushes lightly over your clit. “He’s not ready, Jungkook.”

“I’m sorry, he doesn’t want to eat you out because he’s too scared he’ll fucking eat you?”

Taehyung scoffs between your legs, but Jungkook is already shifting to his knees, clearly having heard enough. “That’s it. Turn the fuck over.”

You appreciate the consideration when Jungkook guides you to sit up and get on hands and knees across the width of the bed, nudging you forward so that he can kneel down behind you on the mattress. The positioning is ideal for Taehyung to meet you on the other side.

There’s a cold flash in Taehyung’s eyes as he circles the bed, not unlike a predator stalking prey. Watching him sends more arousal flooding through you, enough that the crux of your thighs is painted with slick when Jungkook encourages them apart from behind.

You can see Taehyung’s length straining against the confines of his underwear as he stands in front of you, and he laughs softly when you reach up to pull him out, too greedy to wait. He’s beautiful, long and hard and weighing heavy in your palm. Your eyes roll up to meet Taehyung’s, deep amber and brimming with lust as you press gentle kisses to the rim of his cockhead.

The wet smack of your mouth is chased with a fluttering whimper when Jungkook slides two fingers through your dripping folds to roughly part your pussy lips. You can feel yourself dripping, can hear the dark hum Jungkook emits in response.

“You look delicious,” he rasps. “Can’t believe this parasite would rather have your blood.”

In hopes it will distract him from Jungkook’s insult, you choose that moment to swallow Taehyung down, and your plan seems to work. Taehyung’s fingers snake through your hair and his head tips back as you stretch your lips over his shaft. You find yourself whining softly around him at the feeling alone, the smooth press of his cock against your tongue.

You hollow your cheeks around Taehyung and slowly begin to suck along his length, eliciting a deep hiss from him, your hand pumping in time at the base where your mouth can’t reach.

It takes a conscious effort to hold in a moan when you feel the first touch of Jungkook’s tongue, dragged thick up your slit like a hot knife through butter. You arch your spine, your body begging for more, and his hands grip the soft flesh of your ass as he spreads you open and indulges.

Jungkook eats you like a man starved, shoving his tongue into your pussy with enough force to slide Taehyung’s cock further into your mouth. Taehyung’s tip teases into the back of your throat, and he groans when you swallow to urge him over the edge.

“Fuck, jagiya,” he pants as you continue to bob up and down, relentless, spurred on by every sloppy pass of Jungkook’s tongue. “If only that mutt could see how good you look with my cock in your mouth.”

Pleased at Taehyung’s praise and choosing to ignore his dig at Jungkook, you lean forward to take even more of him, until the whole of his glass-hard cock is crammed down your throat. You can feel drool welling up on your tongue, can feel your muscles trying not to choke around him, made all the more difficult by the way Jungkook is steadily fucking his tongue into you now.

The shudder of your throat matches the tremble in Taehyung’s hips, and you can tell he’s fighting the urge to push you past the limits of what a human can take.

There’s a part of you that wishes he would.

You gag softly as you pull off of him, giving both of you a moment to collect yourselves. One of Taehyung’s large hands pets over your hair, encouraging, and you drop your forehead down to rest in the crook of your elbow. Without the distraction of sucking Taehyung’s cock, the pleasure of Jungkook’s hot mouth on your pussy is overwhelming, and you can’t help moaning into the mattress.

“God, just like that, Koo.”

Managing to pull yourself back up for more, you coax a soft groan from Taehyung as you start to kitten lick up his shaft. Jungkook pulls away from your center just as you take Taehyung into your mouth again.

“You taste so fucking good. Bloodsucker doesn’t know what he’s missing. But he can enjoy my sloppy seconds.”

The sudden wet sound of Jungkook spitting is so loud that even Taehyung flinches, and your cunt clenches at the slick-splatter feeling. Wasting no time, Jungkook dives back in, eagerly shoving the mix of saliva and arousal into your entrance with his tongue, and it’s all you can do to focus on the cock in your mouth.

Taking Taehyung faster this time, you build up to a steady rhythm, your hands fisting the bed sheets beneath you as you swallow him down. You make an audible gulping sound with each pass, his length dipping over and over into the tight squeeze of your throat. Taehyung can’t hold back, grunting a steady stream of curses as you suck him off just the way he likes.

When Jungkook outright growls between your legs, you feel it more than hear it, and the vibrations that roll through you are enough to make your toes curl. You pull most of the way off, sliding your lips down Taehyung’s shaft to suckle at the head of his cock as you whimper gently around him.

With his fingertips gripping your ass bruising-hard, Jungkook’s lips slide up your folds until he finds the underside of your clit. Your thighs quiver violently when his tongue darts out for one rough flick over the sensitive bud. There’s no stifling the way you moan when Jungkook repeats the action, again and again, falling into a steady lapping rhythm that makes your whole body shake.

His mouth is so wet and so warm that you completely lose your ability to multitask. Your jaw goes slack around Taehyung’s length, drool spilling onto the sheets beneath you until Taehyung finally withdraws. You don’t have enough space in your brain to try and stroke his ego to keep things fair— you’re entirely lost in the heat of Jungkook’s tongue over your clit. Your hips shove back toward Jungkook’s face to grind against his mouth, your own tongue lolling out as you pant and moan.

An ice cold hand tangling in your hair is enough to get your eyes to refocus, and you glance up at Taehyung just in time for his grip to tighten. The sting of it sparkles like diamonds against your scalp as he forces your head back and watches you fuck yourself on Jungkook’s tongue.

“Feels good, jagiya?” Taehyung purrs, speaking up to be heard over the gasps and slurps of Jungkook as his mouth works your pussy, drinking up every drop.

You can’t think or speak, can’t do anything except nod dumbly and try to keep your eyes from rolling up into your skull. Taehyung cranes your head back another inch and you whimper at the pressure. “Gonna come on puppy’s tongue?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to choke out, and you outright keen when two of Taehyung’s slender fingers reach down to find one of your nipples and twist. The shock of pleasure-pain rips through your whole body, and fuck, it’s enough. Taehyung drops his grip on your hair just as your orgasm hits, and your head bounces against the mattress as you collapse into shuddering moans, your body trembling all over.

Your thighs threaten to give out, but Jungkook’s hands find purchase under your hips to keep you up. You let him hold your weight entirely like it’s nothing at all, his face and tongue still buried in you as your pussy gushes and flutters around him.

Everything eventually softens into the warm glow of comedown, your moans dissolving to gentle whimpers, and then Jungkook slowly lowers you to the mattress. His hands slip down to keep your thighs pulled apart, and he leans in for a few more licks to your cunt, your whole body shivering with oversensitivity at each pass until he finally relents.

“First orgasm’s mine,” Jungkook remarks, like it’s casual.

You glance up to see Taehyung baring his teeth, and you roll onto your side despite how heavy your limbs still feel. “I’ll make her come harder. Let me taste you next, jagi.”

“Tae, wait,” you murmur, pushing yourself up onto your hands. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

Jungkook’s smug response comes first. “How about you do it while I fuck her?”

“What?!”

If your heart wasn’t still racing from the orgasm, it would be now at the way Taehyung’s eyes are fixed on Jungkook, like he wants to tear him limb from limb. But Jungkook just keeps talking, as if it doesn’t scare him in the slightest.

“She’s got two holes, right? If I take her in the ass, her pussy’s yours. It’s like she said— if you can’t stand me, maybe it’ll tone down the desire to, you know. Have a snack.”

There’s a visible tremor in Taehyung’s jaw as he attempts to keep himself under control. When he speaks, his voice is strained with the effort of holding back. “You’re not putting anything… anywhere until after I do. I don’t care which fucking hole it is.”

At this, you finally interject. “Taehyung’s right, Jungkook.”

The staring contest ends as they both look down at you, and your eyes jump back and forth between them as you shift onto your knees on the mattress. “We’ve wanted this and talked about it for so long. It’s only fair that he be my… first.”

Jungkook, to your surprise, seems unbothered. “That’s fine. So long as I’m your second.”

“Lay the fuck down, jagi,” Taehyung growls.

You follow the command and Taehyung settles between your thighs with a determined cold-steel gaze, his knees sinking soft divots into the mattress. He fists at his throbbing-hard cock as you spread yourself for him, and when he lines himself up with your entrance, you hook your legs over his hips.

In the dim light, there’s an ice-shimmer sheen on his cock, still glossed with your drool. The tip nudges at your center, and you’re drenched for him, you can feel it, slick from Jungkook’s mouth and wet with your own arousal that drips down to coat his waiting length.

A shiver runs through you at the touch of Taehyung’s hand over yours, and he turns your palm up so he can interlace your fingers together.

“Jagiya,” Taehyung murmurs. “I love you.”

His free hand slips down to anchor over your hip, and then you feel him, the glass-cold weight of his cock starting to press into you, long and impossibly hard.

“Oh god, Taehyung,” you gasp, your head kicking back against the bed. “I love you, too. So much.”

You have to shut your eyes to focus on the feeling, on adjusting to the stretch of him, your brow furrowing as you try to breathe through it.

The warm brush of a callused hand over your cheek instantly softens your expression, and your eyes flutter open again to take in Jungkook above you. His warm familiarity makes you smile, as does the sweet expression on his face as he hovers over you.

“Hi,” Jungkook says simply, and you tip your chin up enough for him to understand what you want. He leans forward and his mouth captures yours in an upside-down kiss, one that you can’t help but gasp into when Taehyung fully bottoms out inside you.

Jungkook pulls back as your breath flutters into his mouth. “Is it okay? He’s not hurting you?”

You shake your head, eyes dropping closed as Jungkook trails kisses along the line of your jaw and down your neck. “God, you took him so well.” His voice smolders against your skin.

As if attempting to regain your focus, you feel Taehyung’s hand slip between your legs. His thumb begins to trace gentle circles over your clit, and your walls clench around him in response. “Oh fuck, Tae.”

“Can I move, jagi?” he grunts, and you nod, punctuated with a soft whimper.

“Please, Tae. I need to feel you.”

You barely get the words out before Jungkook’s mouth finds yours again, and your tongue licks hungrily against his as Taehyung slowly starts to move. His cock is so thick, heavy and smooth like marble as he glides over your ridges, and you moan eagerly against Jungkook, gripping the back of his neck like a lifeline as Taehyung’s hips fall into a steady rhythm.

“Oh my god,” you have to break away from Jungkook to gasp. “Oh my god, Tae.”

“Bet that tight little pussy feels so good,” Jungkook murmurs, lips brushing over your ear. When he pulls back, you open your eyes to take him in.

“Jungkook,” you nearly whine his name, overwhelmed at the way Taehyung has started to jostle you on his cock. “Wanna make you feel good too.”

The pads of his fingertips trace delicately over your cheek, and then his thumb slips down to pull at your bottom lip.

“Do you wanna take my cock in this pretty mouth?” The hand tracing over your lip slips lower, until his warm palm is closed over the column of your neck. You can feel the heat of him in every beat of your pulse, the hummingbird thrum of your very human heart. “And let me fuck your throat?”

An overwhelming desire to be filled from both ends makes your breath stutter in your chest, and you grip his forearm with both of your hands, nails digging into his warm skin. “Y-yes, Jungkook,” you answer, working hard to get the words out with how heavy Taehyung is stroking into you. “I need it.”

Jungkook dips forward to brush his lips over yours again, just the lightest touch. “I love you,” he murmurs softly against your mouth.

“I love you,” you repeat, your voice a near whisper.

Another kiss, and he’s smiling when he pulls back. “Be a good girl and open up for me.”

As Jungkook steps away to tug down and step out of his boxers, you feel Taehyung slow his thrusts, and then you gasp a little at how deep his cock sinks into you when he shifts forward to push you both up the bed.

“You feel so good, jagi,” Taehyung groans, and you can’t help but whimper when he moves you easily, grabbing your legs and slinging them roughly over his shoulders.

A yelp escapes your lips when Taehyung hooks his arms over your thighs and pulls them flush to his chest, causing your ass to lift off the mattress entirely. With the way he has you bent, the majority of your weight should be resting in your arms and upper back pressed flat to the bed, possibly painfully. But Taehyung holds you up so effortlessly that you feel like you weigh nothing at all.

The angle also shoves you just far enough back that your head tips over the edge of the bed, and you’re grateful for this small concession from Taehyung, to let Jungkook have his way peacefully, because he knows it’s what you want, too.

As Jungkook steps in to hover over you, Taehyung starts to bounce you on his cock again, and he fills you up so perfectly like this that you can only moan, your head tilting all the way back.

Jungkook’s hands pet down the length of your neck until he finds your breasts, angled up toward him and jiggling with every fierce thrust as Taehyung picks up the pace. You whimper when Jungkook’s palms close around your tits, and you feel the head of his dick toy at your bottom lip, gliding wet with precum that has already started to leak from his slit.

Letting your eyes flutter closed, you give yourself over to the pleasure welling up inside of you and stick your tongue out to guide Jungkook in. His groan is nearly a growl as his cock presses into your mouth to weigh your tongue down heavy, then slips even further back until he’s teasing at the clench of your throat.

The stretch of being used by both of them lights you up all the way through, like a live wire.

For a moment, you find yourself wishing that you weren’t human, that they didn’t have to worry about being gentle to keep you from getting hurt, that Jungkook and Taehyung could truly do whatever they wanted to you.

The thought is exciting and terrifying, and your heart skips a beat in your chest.

Jungkook holds himself still once he’s pushed all the way in, and your throat bulges up at the width of him. You have to remind yourself that at least for now, you are human, and you need to keep breathing.

Taehyung is thrusting balls-deep into your pussy now, and though Jungkook hasn’t started his own strokes yet, the way Taehyung shoves into you is enough to gently rock Jungkook’s length back and forth in the heat-clutch of your throat.

You hear Jungkook moan above you. “Oh fuck yeah, just like that.”

His hips just barely start to move in time, out to match each of Taehyung’s thrusts in, back into your throat every time Taehyung’s cock drags out of your cunt. All you can do is lay there and take it from both of them, a fragile fucktoy, drool slipping down your chin while Jungkook’s hands knead at your breasts and Taehyung’s thumb rolls over your clit.

“Look so good like this,” Taehyung grunts as he presses his lips to your calf hooked over his shoulder. “Wanna make you come on my cock, jagi.”

The plea makes you moan enough to gag around Jungkook, and he relents to let you catch your breath, strings of spit spider-webbing out of your mouth as you pant and laugh a little.

“Fuck me harder, Taehyung,” you breathe. “I can take it.”

It feels like you might bruise from the intensity at which Taehyung begins to stroke into you at your command, but it’s so good, you can’t imagine ever caring about the marks he’ll leave behind. The slap of skin on skin is loud, the way you moan louder still. The pleasure of it rushes up in your bloodstream and hits hard enough to make you dizzy, and the relentless rub of Taehyung’s thumb over your clit pushes you to the edge overwhelmingly quickly.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, your head tipping back towards him. “Please. Want you in my mouth when I come.”

“God,” Jungkook groans, nearly laughing as he slips his thick cock between your lips again. “You are so fucking hot.”

You take Jungkook back into your mouth, and you can already feel your walls starting to flutter around Taehyung as his cock plunges into you over and over. Jungkook’s heavy breathing and Taehyung’s strangled moans mix together in a discordant harmony, underscored by the wet sounds of your throat and your pussy as they fuck you from both ends. Your orgasm mounts, coiling tight in your core, undeniable now.

“That’s it, jagiya,” Taehyung groans. “Come for us.”

You nearly sob around Jungkook’s shaft as you reach your peak, your hips shoving up wildly in Taehyung’s grasp, your entire body overwhelmed by pleasure. Wave after wave of it washes through you, and your pussy pulses for what feels like an eternity, soaking Taehyung’s length in your juices.

Jungkook pulls out again to let you breathe, and you collapse back against the bed. The rush of air into your lungs is so sharp that it stings a little. Your heartbeat slams in your chest as Taehyung withdraws too, and then he leans down to cover your body with his.

His perfect lips find yours and he kisses you deeply, and it takes all the effort you have left to move your mouth against his.

“You’re beautiful, jagiya,” Taehyung murmurs against your skin. “You feel like heaven.”

“I love you, Taehyung,” you manage to whisper back.

“Aw,” Jungkook’s voice drips thick with sarcasm, and you’re ashamed to realize that you’d momentarily forgotten his presence. “What a lovely couple. Guess that orgasm makes the score one-to-one, huh Tae-Tae?”

You shiver a little at the loss of Taehyung’s body over yours as he gets to his feet, inhumanly fast, to move towards Jungkook.

“You know, I have no idea what she sees in you,” Taehyung scoffs.

Jungkook barks a laugh. “That’s fine. ‘Cause pretty soon you’ll be seeing me in her.”

Your heart is in your throat as you watch the two of them circle each other, their eyes burning with hatred. A low warning sound reverberates from between Taehyung’s teeth, but Jungkook just keeps going. “What do you think, bloodsucker? Ready to try eating pussy now that you’re not a virgin anymore?”

“I’d much prefer dog for my next meal, if I’m honest,” Taehyung spits.

“I’d love to see you try.”

“Please.” Your voice comes out shattered, and you kneel up on the bed, grabbing both of them by the bicep in a feeble human attempt to pull them apart. You know you don’t have the real strength to move either of them, but they clearly choose to relent, each taking a few reluctant steps back.

“I want both of you,” you exclaim, close to tears. “Please, please don’t fight.”

There’s a tense moment of silence, and you break it the only way you can think to. “Jungkook,” you shift to better face him. “You really meant what you said? About taking me… in the ass?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as he fumbles for his words. “I-I mean, we don’t have to. I was just saying shit to make him mad, really.”

“But do you want to?” you press him.

Jungkook blinks. “I want to do anything with you,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and your heart melts open.

“I want it, too.”

“I– really?”

You nod, unashamed. “I’ve tried it before, by myself. And I want that with you.”

“How many fingers?” Jungkook’s eyes go dark with lust when he asks the question.

“Two,” you breathe.

His mouth pulls into a dirty smile. “Might have to work you up to three if you want to take me.”

“Taehyung?” You turn towards him when you ask for his consent to continue, and he answers by leaning in for a kiss that steals all the air from your lungs.

Your kisses deepen and intensify until they’re a clash of tongues and teeth as Taehyung joins you to kneel on the bed. Jungkook disappears off to dig through your bathroom cabinets, and there’s a smug look on his face when he returns with a bottle of lube in hand.

Hands still clutching at Taehyung’s neck, you break the kiss momentarily to look over your shoulder as Jungkook settles behind you, and you spread your knees wide for him. The snap of the bottle cap is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, and it’s chased by the thick squelch of Jungkook depositing lube onto his waiting fingers.

“This shit’s cold,” he complains, and you laugh softly against Taehyung’s mouth.

“Everything feels cold to you.”

You reach back with one hand to better spread yourself for him, and then you whimper as you feel Jungkook’s warm, wet fingers start to trace over the rim of your hole.

It feels like you can barely catch your breath before Taehyung’s mouth is on yours again, kissing you hungrily. His teeth roll over your bottom lip, and you moan into his mouth as Jungkook simultaneously pushes a finger into your ass.

Hot pleasure overwhelms you as Jungkook slips all the way in, and Taehyung’s marble lips release yours to trail an icy path over your jaw.

“Fuck, Koo,” you groan as you adjust to the stretch of him, already so much better than your own touch. “I need another.”

“God,” Jungkook exhales in disbelief. “I’ll try. You’re so fuckin’ tight back here.” Attempting to work you open, he starts to rock his finger slowly in and out of you, and you whine again.

The glass-cold touch of Taehyung’s hand brushing over your hip makes you jump a little, and then he traces further down to roll his fingers over your clit, and your spine arches. The soft circles he begins to trace melt you open, and you can feel every muscle in your body slacken, including the tight ring swallowing up Jungkook’s finger.

It’s just enough that he’s able to squeeze a second in.

“Look at that,” Jungkook chuckles darkly. “The leech is helping.”

You wrap a hand firmly around Taehyung’s cock, jutting up proudly between his legs, if only for a tether to ground you, to keep you from slipping out of your body entirely. Taehyung’s groan shudders over your skin as you slowly start to pump his diamond-hard length.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, scissoring his digits inside of you, and you press your hips back to beg for more until he’s shoved in to the hilt.

Taehyung’s deep voice purrs in your ear. “You smell incredible, jagiya.” There’s a sheen to his ochre eyes when you glance up at him. You’re not scared, not really, but your pulse quickens in your throat nevertheless. You know he can hear it, too.

“Tae,” you breathe, unable to get more words out, not with the way Jungkook’s fingers are relentlessly fucking your ass open.

Taehyung ducks his head and you gasp at the cold shock of his tongue when he full-on licks up the side of your neck. He keeps going, tonguing you in thick, slow drags, starting to groan softly in the back of his throat with each one. You let your head tip back to allow him access to more of your skin as you continue to work his cock in your hand.

You know you’re dancing with the devil, especially when you feel the lightest scrape of his teeth over your neck, but it feels too good to stop.

There’s a slow burn stretch at your rim as Jungkook just barely manages to fit a third finger past it. You will your body to relax so you can take him all the way inside, and you can’t help but moan at the overwhelming fullness. “Oh my fucking god, Koo.”

“Look so pretty on my fingers like this,” Jungkook grunts, pairing his words with a harsh slap to your asscheek that makes you yelp. “Can’t wait to see what you look like on my cock.”

Like a reflex, Taehyung growls against your neck, and you tremble at the feeling, at the sound of his teeth grinding together so close to your throbbing pulse.

“Taehyung,” you choke out as you release your grip on his cock and Jungkook’s fingers withdraw from your ass. You take Taehyung’s face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Do you want to taste me?” His eyes flash dark with lust as he nods.

Jungkook is already shifting to sit at the edge of the bed, and he reaches for the lube again to pour more out, hissing softly as he fists the sticky gloss over his thick shaft. His legs part to give you room, and you back your ass up towards him. You can’t help but squeak a little when his hands close over your hips and he picks you up, your feet hovering an inch above the floor.

“Spread your legs,” Jungkook instructs, and you do. “Pull your knees up and rest your feet on my thighs.” You nervously find your footing over his firm muscles, but you’re a little scared to bear your full weight down.

Jungkook laughs when he realizes why you’re hesitating. “You can’t hurt me, it’s okay.”

At his encouragement, you press your feet more firmly into Jungkook’s thighs, your own legs shaking slightly with tense anticipation. He keeps his hands gripped tight to your hips, heat radiating out from where his palms press against your skin, and his voice is thick with lust when he speaks again.

“That’s it, baby. Line it up for me.”

You reach behind you to wrap your hand around his cock, and you can feel it pulsing hotly as you arch back to let his tip kiss against your rim.

“Go slow,” you breathe, and Jungkook leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“‘Course I will. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Inch by inch, he gently starts to sink you down to sheath him, pausing periodically to give you time to adjust. Your mouth drops open at the overwhelming feeling of Jungkook’s thickness stretching you open. It’s so intense that you want to squirm, to run away, the soles of your feet flexing restlessly against his thighs.

Your eyes flutter open again to find Taehyung knelt down, watching the two of you intently with a soft furrow in his brow.

“Tae,” you murmur. “Need your mouth.”

That’s all you have to say, and then he’s crawling towards you, settling on his knees between Jungkook’s spread legs. You shiver at the touch of Taehyung’s fingers as he pulls the lips of your pussy apart, and then he leans in to swipe his tongue through your folds just as Jungkook drops you an inch lower on his cock, and you whine loudly at the sweet rush of pleasure.

“Just like that,” you gasp to both of them, your head lolling back against Jungkook’s chest. “Oh, fuck.”

Taehyung’s tongue traces down to your entrance, slurping greedily at the wetness pooled there before dragging back up to your clit. The mirror-cold slide of his wet mouth over you is incredible, enough to make your toes curl when paired with the pressure of Jungkook’s hot cock pushing into your ass.

You feel the tight muscle of your rim spasm, and you sink another inch down, causing Jungkook to groan harshly in response. Just as you realize that you can feel his thighs flush against your asscheeks, his voice is in your ear.

“That’s it, baby. Took all of me in this tight little ass.”

“You feel so good, Koo,” you whimper, turning over your shoulder to find his mouth with yours. “So big,” you groan against his lips, and he smiles back.

As if to distract you, Taehyung’s teeth just barely brush over the hood of your clit, and you nearly bite Jungkook’s bottom lip off. You pull back to look down at Taehyung, and he smiles shyly between your thighs, feigning innocence.

“Watch it, bloodsucker,” Jungkook mutters, his voice strained. “Guess you need more practice.”

“No,” you manage to gasp, struggling to catch your breath between the two of them. “I liked it. Please, Tae.”

Taehyung leans in to repeat the motion, and the scrape of his teeth sends a hot spark of pain through you, enough to make your eyes squeeze shut and every muscle in your body pull taut. You can hear Jungkook groan behind you as your ass clenches around his cock like a vice.

“Shit,” Jungkook’s voice over your shoulder startles you slightly. Your lashes flutter open in time to see him reach his foot out and nudge at Taehyung’s thigh, not particularly gentle. “Keep fucking doing that.”

Taehyung obliges, alternating gentle passes of his tongue with increasingly rough drags of his teeth across your sensitive bud. The steady swings between pleasure and pain make your head spin, until Taehyung’s husky voice drags you back from the brink of all-encompassing pleasure.

“You’re dripping, jagiya.”

You whimper, unable to form words to respond, and then you can only moan as you feel one of Taehyung’s delicate fingers work itself into the heat of your pussy with a wet squelch.

“Pup’s so big and you’re so little,” Taehyung continues. “There’s no room left. Can barely get a finger in here.”

“I want to take you too, Tae,” you plead. “I want both of you.” It’s not just want at this point– you’re more sure than ever that you have to have this, both of them, together. “Please.”

Taehyung’s face darkens with concern. “We’ll break you.”

“Then break me,” you practically growl. “I need it.”

You’re expecting Taehyung to argue back, forever concerned for your safety, but to your surprise, he surges up to kiss you instead. A soft whimper spills from your mouth into his, and you tangle your fingers in his long dark hair and taste him until he pulls away.

As if to beckon him in, you wordlessly tilt your hips toward Taehyung as best you can with Jungkook’s thick cock still fully sheathed in your ass. Taehyung’s hands sink into the mattress on either side of Jungkook’s hips as he positions himself in front of you.

“Breathe, jagi,” Taehyung reminds you.

Your lungs burn as you inhale deep, and you try desperately to relax as you feel the tip of his glass-hard length teasing at your drenched entrance. Taehyung slowly starts to push in, and your hands search for purchase along the lean, flexing muscles in his arms, your nails attempting to scratch over skin that won’t give.

There’s a steady throb between your legs as Taehyung gently nestles himself all the way into your cunt, his cock pressed tight to Jungkook’s with only the thin barrier of your body between them. This feeling of fullness is beyond anything you’ve ever experienced, and the sensation of taking both of them at once is overwhelming. It’s spine-chilling cold and blood-boiling heat all in one, their cocks crammed so deep inside you that you swear you can feel them in your throat.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses, and he can’t quite hide the waver of pleasure that paints his voice. “Your dick’s fucking cold.”

“You’re actually just a fucking furnace,” Taehyung spits back, but it’s chased with a soft groan.

Your mind lags, dazed with pleasure, but it slowly occurs to you that the temperature combination must feel equally good for them. Even if their egos won’t let them admit it.

“Move.” No one is more shocked than you at the commanding tone of your voice when you speak. “Both of you. Stop talking and fuck me.”

Jungkook acts first, his hands tightening on your hips to lift you, and the tight clutch of your ass dragging up the length of his cock makes you both gasp. Taehyung watches closely as Jungkook falls into a steady rhythm, and then he starts to roll his hips to match it, thrusting into your pussy each time Jungkook pulls your ass back down over his cock.

None of you can keep your composure or bite back your moans now, the pressure of their cocks simultaneously fucking into you feels too good. You can hear Jungkook panting in your ear, can see a muscle flexing in Taehyung’s jaw as he groans with every upstroke, and you begin to shove your hips up in time with their motions, your feet pressing firmly against Jungkook’s thighs for leverage.

“That’s it, baby,” Jungkook grunts. “Fucking ride us.”

Taehyung shifts slightly, putting all his weight into one hand to lift the other off the mattress and toy with your clit. You keen as he rolls it between his thumb and index finger, and you feel the chill of his mouth close over the slope of your neck.

“Oh fuck, Tae,” you whine as he starts to suck hard against your skin, enough that you’re sure he’ll leave a mark. You can feel every muscle in your body tightening, a dam of arousal threatening to burst deep inside of you, and something primal awakens there.

In this moment, you know exactly what you need.

“Taehyung,” you groan softly, and you already know he wants it too. “Do it, Tae. Please. Bite me.”

“Do not fucking turn her,” Jungkook growls, slamming your ass down so hard on his thighs that you nearly choke on a gasp. Taehyung’s mouth sucks even harder, right over your pulse point.

“No, no,” you protest. “Just a little drink, Tae. Please. It felt so good last time, I know. We both want it.” You’re outright begging, insatiable– your eyes threaten tears with how badly you really do want this, need this.

Like it takes every ounce of strength he has, Taehyung manages to pull himself off your neck, his hips still pistoning into you. “Jagi, I–I’ll frenzy. I’ll hurt you.”

You shake your head. “Jungkook is here, you can stop yourself. I know you can. Please, Tae, if you love me.”

As if those words were all he needed to hear, you see Taehyung rear back, and then you scream as his teeth pierce the skin of your neck. “It’s good Taehyung, it’s good,” you choke out, trying to keep it together. Your breath comes ragged now, in harsh, broken sobs.

Taehyung is loud when he drinks from you, slurping and gasping and groaning unabashedly, and you shiver violently at the icy wash of his tongue circling over your wounds.

The world begins to blur at the edges, bleeding out, like time itself is slowing. You feel your climax winding tighter inside of you even as your body starts to go weak, held up like a ragdoll in Jungkook’s grip as they both continue to fuck you full.

Jungkook growls like a clap of thunder, and it’s enough to bring Taehyung back to his senses. His head snaps up angrily, your blood momentarily forgotten. You just barely manage to focus your gaze on Taehyung’s face to see him bare his teeth in a vicious snarl at Jungkook, more monster than man.

“What is it, pup? Want a taste?”

Your mind moves slowly, and just as you think to yourself that Jungkook will scoff at the very idea, maybe even try to fight Taehyung for suggesting it, a new sensation flutters against your neck. It’s unmistakable, the touch of Jungkook’s tongue over the same spot, hot enough to burn the delicate skin that was just made so cold by Taehyung’s mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you moan loudly.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Taehyung purrs, chased with a dark laugh, and your mind is too dizzy to know which of you he’s asking.

“She’s sweet,” Jungkook confirms, and your eyes roll back at the warmth of his tongue when it returns to your neck. Taehyung laughs even louder.

“He’s not gonna leave any for me. Can I give you one more set, jagi?”

“Please,” you gasp. “I’m so fucking close, Tae.”

Your head feels heavy on your neck now, and it takes all the strength you have to look at Taehyung when you feel the brush of his marble palm against your cheek. “I love you,” he murmurs, and then there’s an animal sound as his teeth tear a fresh gash into the other side of your neck.

Two cocks filling you, two tongues drinking you, your mind at the precipice of blacking out, the sweet pleasure-pain of ice and fire twisting all the way through your body: it’s all too much. Taehyung’s second bite sends you violently over the edge, and your vision goes black as you come with a strangled scream. White noise roars in your ears like TV static, and you feel the unmistakable throb of two loads filling you up simultaneously as your cunt pulses in an endless, overwhelming orgasm.

A voice somewhere in the back of your mind asks if these might be your final moments alive, if this shaky inhale you can barely take is the last breath you’ll ever breathe, and then the world goes dark as you lose consciousness entirely.

~*~

You wake up with a deep gasp, like coming up for air.

You’ve been laid flat on your back on the bed, and you sit up so fast your head spins, making it momentarily impossible to focus on anything. You squeeze your eyes shut again, trying to steady yourself.

“Oh thank god,” Taehyung’s worried voice comes from your right side, and you feel both of his hands close over yours. “I was just about to call Seokjin. Do you still want me to?”

The thought of having to explain any of this to Taehyung’s adoptive father makes your face burn with embarrassment.

“No, no, Tae,” you manage to croak. “I’m fine, seriously. Don’t call him.”

“You’re lucky,” you hear Jungkook scoff from your left. “I had about five more seconds left of you playing dead before I was going to tear vampy here to shreds. Guess there’s always next time.”

You wrench your eyes open in disbelief to find Taehyung and Jungkook staring at you, brows creased with worry.

“N-next time?”

“Do you still want that, jagiya?” Taehyung asks softly, and you have to swallow down the urge to cry. “You still want both of us?”

“More than anything,” you choke out, eyes darting between the two of them, trying to take them both in at once. “I-I’m sorry I pushed myself too hard, but please, I still need–”

“It’s okay,” Taehyung interrupts you. “We clearly all got caught up in the moment. I’m just glad you’re okay. And now we know better, for… next time.”

You still can’t believe what you’re hearing, and you turn to look at Jungkook, trying to make sense of it.

Jungkook just shrugs. “Neither of us have ever felt anything close to what we felt tonight. I mean, it was insane. And we both love you, that much is obvious. So as long as you’re still breathing, I guess we’re gonna have to learn to play nice.”

Taehyung laughs darkly as your jaw drops open. “It’s true, jagiya. I never would’ve believed it before tonight. But, despite all odds, it would seem we’ve found a way to… compromise.”

lol i'm so sorry this was the dumbest thing i've ever written bye

#jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #taekook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook x y/n #taehyung x y/n #bts twilight AU #bts smut #bts crack #i am insane bye

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