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writingsbychlo · 1 year

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UNWIND | azriel

summary; azriel is caught up in his head, and needs to fuck out his frustrations with the woman he loves.

word count; 8543

notes; I can’t tell if this is hot or pure shit so lmk because this is a little more than my usual smut levels. also, this is a vague follow up to ‘focus’ but very very loosely. can totally be read as a stand-alone fic.

The lights were flickering in the halls as you walked along, the steady bursts of uncontrolled power bursting throughout the House of Wind, thrumming like an irrational heartbeat. The closer you got, the stronger the pulses became, the more frequent the flickering was, and the thicker the air seemed to get.

You’d known Azriel for decades now, long enough to have seen these moods before. It wasn’t the worst one, not by far, nothing compared to the night Rhysand found himself trapped, or Feyre was taken back to Spring. Nonetheless, it didn’t make it any better.

Cassian had fled after dinner with Nesta in his arms, the Townhouse looking like a very appealing prospect to visit for the night, and you knew that even though the ripples of his errant power never reached as low as the library, even the priestesses would be on lockdown from Azriel’s mood tonight.

He’d never lay a finger on anyone, he never had, but it didn’t make the tumbling stones shaken loose from the mountainside any less scary, or the mass of writhing shadows and rage any friendlier.

It felt like plunging your head under water as you stood outside of his bedroom door; breath held, utter silence thick around your ears, heart beating so hard it was resonating audibly inside your skull. When your fist tapped against the wood, you barely heard the echo. A steady thrum of power was all you got in response. A warning, a threat, a question of who had dared come close, you weren’t sure.

No more came.

The bursts of power seemed to simmer, to become like a crawling, bubbling mess, so close to boiling over, spitting around your feet instead of steady pulses. The door finally creaked open, when you’d just about given up, wood scraping across the stone tiles to reveal the chaotic darkness inside.

As soon as you had cleared the entrance, the door slammed shut behind you. Only through the flickers of wild shadows could moonlight filter through, all of the lights on but none of the glow reaching you, and it was only by the one velvety shadow curling affectionately around your wrist that you were able to find any guidance through the onyx tornado at all.

The shadow at your wrist dipped down, twirling between your fingers like the phantom touch of another’s hand in your own, leading you in slow stumbles through the room. The cold of the night hit you before any moonlight did, and it was only when you stumbled through the streams of shadows like a curtain that your lungs let you take a deep breath once again.

Chilled, cold air wrapped around you like a blanket, bursting through your senses and renewing your mind once again. The touch at your wrist slipped away, a rogue tendril that rejoined the frenzy now that you were safely through the storm, and Azriel stood before you. Hunched at the waist, forearms braced on the stone balcony railing as he stared out at the endless distance.

He was tense, built like stone and mountains, walls of solid muscle pulled so taut that his wings didn’t even touch the ground. His bare feet clung to the stone, skin pebbled in goosebumps everywhere except his covered legs, swirls of ink over his shoulders disappearing into the night sky.

Tonight, Azriel wasn’t as flirty as he normally was. Tonight, he’d shut down entirely. That line that had been crossed weeks ago in the training ring felt like a million years ago now as he shut you out. He was so caught up in his own head that you weren’t even sure if he knew you were here.

“Azriel?”

An answer to your question, as he jumped in shock, straightening to his full height, and twisting to face you. His eyes were dull and yet burning with rage, face contorted into a frown that you weren’t used to. Normally, he offered you a sweet smile, a smirk or a wink. A soft kiss to your forehead or cheek, a brush of one scarred finger over your blushing cheeks.

None of it came now.

“What are you doing here?”

You swallowed thickly, throat like sandpaper as you tried to form a response, to form words under the ire of his glare, but refusing to back down. He may be terrifying to the world, but he was the world to you. “Your shadow came when I knocked. I assumed you sent it to open the door.”

His gaze flickered angrily over his shoulder, like in the swirling mass he’d be able to pick out the traitor precisely, a snarl on his lips before he was looking back to you. “I didn’t. You shouldn’t be here.”

It was a dismissal, one he punctuated by turning his back on you and resuming his lean against the railing, breath clouding in the air as he let out a world-weary sigh. “Azriel…”

“Did you not just hear me?” His fingers clenched on the stone, so firmly that his knuckles turned white. The mountains practically shook again with his shout; “Leave!”

That power thrummed out again, heavy bursts that hummed over the building and rattled the glass windows as you stepped closer, flares of glittering blue from his siphons where they sat in a pile, useless to the rippling power now on a table beside him. Daring to take another step closer, he stiffened again.

You moved, closer and closer until you were within reaching distance, the space between you both swallowed up, but you didn’t dare to touch him. His wings twitched on either side of your body, tightening in like they did when he was preparing for a fight. Instead of reaching out, you cleared your throat softly, letting him know just where you were behind him.

He growled, turning slowly, cautious to ensure that no part of him touched any part of you, and the air was all but crackling with unshed tension around you. Insults, curses, harsh words were conveyed in his gaze, everything in an attempt to get you to leave that he had yet to say.

Before he could say any of them, you raised your hands slowly, making sure he could track every movement as his eye widened, like taming a beast instead of a man. When your palms settled over his cheeks, the preternatural stiffness and stillness he’d taken on melted, his shoulders began to slump, like he was being dragged down into the very earth itself, even as he still towered over you.

“Az, sweetheart…”

Still, he did not touch you. Even as the anger in his eyes only softened to pain, and the clench of his fists smoothed his hands out from fists by his sides. “You shouldn’t be here.” It wasn’t a threat this time, but instead was a plea, begging you to leave with a tenderness you were familiar with from him.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You murmured, voice unable to reach above a whisper in fear of shattering the fragile peace. Sweeping your thumbs over his cheekbones, his throat bobbed, eyes held steady with your own. “Let me be here for you.”

“You can’t be here, because I’m not okay. If I hurt you, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”

Your heart shattered at the admission, his shadows pulling in closer and closer to you both, no longer afraid of their master but seeking to comfort, a blanket wrapping around the both of you at the base of your legs.

You didn’t reply verbally, instead, you gave him every chance to pull away, to stop it, as you leaned up, taking your time as you rose, until the breath was shared between you both, his steady breaths now shallow pants.

Your lips met his jaw first, just to the left of his chin, a soft kiss that wasn’t nearly enough. Another just a fraction higher, and another, until your lips were pressed to his cheek and he was letting out a shaky breath by your ear.

“Baby…”

“Do you really want me to leave, Az?” Your lip skimmed over his, reciprocated by his pucker but you didn’t give into it just yet, sliding one hand to the back of his neck and the other up over his cheek. Slipping your thumb between your mouths, you stoked over his lips once, his haze fixed. “Tell me you don’t want me here and I’ll go. But, I don’t want you to be alone, when I’m here for you if you want me. I’ll always be here for you.”

The message was clear, and you gave him a single and fleeting kiss to his lips, tearing away from his space and falling back to the flats of your feet. One step back, just enough to think.

Your foot lifted, never making it as far as a second step away, before he was finally reaching out. His hands gripped at your hips, yanking you forward roughly until you were falling into his body, colliding with cold skin and solid walls of muscle.

“I don’t want you to go. I just want you here with me. I always want you here with me.” The confession sounded like it pained him, hoarse on a throat yelled raw already, the Azriel you know fighting the darkness enough to break through to you for a moment. “I don’t know if I’m ready to show you this part of myself, I don’t want you to be scared of me. I can’t lose you.”

The hands settled on your hips flexed, like he was trying to be gentler but they came back just as tight, spaces where there would be bruises in the morning. He’d tried so hard to resist touching you at all, but now, you weren’t sure you’d be able to break free even if you wanted to.

Tracing your arms over his arms, back up to hold his face, this time, he tipped into your touch, lashes fluttering shut for just a second as he sucked in a breath.

“You don’t scare me, Azriel. No part of you scares me. Not your shadows, not your knives, not your moody scowl. I know every part of you, I care for every part of you. This isn’t about me, I’m not the one in need.” You weren’t sure what had happened in Hewn City, only that it must’ve been bad. Whatever he’d seen, whatever he couldn't stop, it was dragging him down into despair and rage. “So, tell me, do you want me to stay or do you want me to go?”

His forehead came down, leaning on your own. “I want you to stay.”

Your noses bumped, a smile forming on your lips as he nuzzled in as close to you a she could get, his arms wrapping around you and holding you firmly to his chest, until your heartbeats echoed together. “You didn’t come to dinner. I was worried about you. Maybe we should get you some food?”

“I don’t want to eat,” He whispered, the words like ice over you as the softness dropped from his tone once again, the wild animal rampaging in his mind taking over once again. One hand was sliding up from your waist now, loose enough to travel over the expanse of your body, across your torso and over your breasts until his fingers were flexing once again, but this time around your throat.

In one swift movement, you were being spun, back pressing into the unforgiving stone of the wall railing, cold spreading along your skin as your shirt rose behind you. His eyes were darker now, the pretty caramel shade you loved so much almost swallowed entirely by the dark, his lips forming an equally dark smirk to match. But he waited, he was like a predator waiting for the prey to give permission to be hunted.

And you did.

A single nod was all it took, until he was surging forwards, lips crashing into your own, a kiss so urgent and fierce that the breath was knocked from your lungs. The implication was clear, everything about Azriel was an open book tonight, unlike his usual way of hiding his emotions.

He didn’t want gentle, he didn’t need soft. What Azriel needed most was to let out this energy, to use it for something other than self-destruction and hatred, to burn off every angry part of himself in a way that would make him feel good. He’d once told you that your mind was unfocused, on everything but where it needed to be, and he’d helped you clear it with his fingers between your legs.

His mind needed the opposite, needed to let go of what he was clinging to, to release it. He didn’t need to focus, he needed to let it all go. Perhaps a mindblowing orgasm would do the same for him.

His lips were unyielding against your own, a scrape of his teeth over your lower lip until you yelped, and his tongue plunged into your mouth at the opening. The hand on your neck flexed, your whimpers cut off by his lips and you had no chance at all, drowning in everything front he feel of him to the taste of him. Stolen kisses had nothing on this, this crescendo of overdue emotions and pent-up feelings, and despite it all, there was still a reverence underneath that told you your Azriel was fighting all the while to hold onto you.

Through every gasping breath you managed to take between assaults of his lips, you got less and less oxygen, vision spotting until you felt almost delirious from the burn of your lungs. When his hand loosened just fractionally, his mouth torn from your own only to leave wet marks across your jaw and neck, you heaved in breath while you had the chance.

“Azriel, let me touch you. Let me help you, make you feel good…”

“Oh, you’ll make me feel good, baby. Don’t worry about that.” His voice was sharp and lethal, like a blade slicing across your skin where he mumbled it into the juncture of your neck. His teeth followed, a bite on your skin, your head tossed, back arching until you were dangling over the balcony, his hand at your neck all that kept you stable.

You were on the tips of your toes, bared for the man he pulled back, licking over kiss-swollen lips and using a half-lidded gaze to take you in.

“So fucking beautiful. Inside and out. So kind and sweet and godsdamned perfect. All for me.” He whispered, your heart skipping a beat in your throat because, despite the fire in his gaze, there was honey in his voice. “I hate myself for how much I want to fucking ruin you.”

“I want nothing more than that,” Your promise made his head snap up, his admiration and longing taken over by raw desire and anticipation. Once furrowed brows smoothed out, relaxing enough for him to raise one in solitary judgement.

“You’re going to regret saying that, sweetheart.” Unlike when you’d said it, the pet name was laced with venom and rough promises, coated in something that made your skin break out with a shudder once again. He closed in on you, even closer, until your toes were hardly touching the floor at all, dangling at his mercy entirely as he hummed to himself, eyes scanning along you as he considered to himself just how he wanted to proceed. “I bet you’d do anything I asked of you right now, wouldn't you? Would you get down on your knees for me, pretty girl?”

“Yes.”

“Would you let me fuck your pretty mouth until I was satisfied?” Your legs clamped together, one of his fingers dragging your lower lip down, biting his own eagerly, before he was slipping two fingers into your mouth, cutting your answer off. His smirk told you he already knew the words you’d have uttered, anyway. “Show me. Show me how good you’d be if it were my cock in there, instead.”

Your lips sealed around his fingers, your tongue dragging along marred and ridged skin within your mouth, as far as you could go until your eyes watered and you were suppressing the urge to gag. His lips parted, gaze fixed on where his digits disappeared between your lips, the thrill of it sending a shock of electricity down your spine, coiling at the base of your stomach with hot need.

The look on his face was nothing short of worship, even if he was in control, you still held the power.

Lapping at the skin, you grazed your teeth lightly over his knuckles as you pulled back, his soft growl your only clue of his reaction before bobbing your head back down again. Before you could repeat the motion, however, he was tugging his fingers back, a wet pop and a trail of saliva snapping, and the hand on your throat tightened to lift your head up for him again. Your sights clashed, and he already looked about as ruined as you felt.

He was shaking with need, you could see the vibrations in his shoulders, the hum of the occasional shadow that darted up high enough to dance over his shoulders, before joining the pool at your waists.

Those two wet fingers dragged down, a shock of coldness over your bare skin before his fingers were snapping the elastic of your leggings against your hips. He only chuckled at your gasp, before his hand was dipping under this time, fingers teasing down between your legs until he was dragging a moan from you at the featherlight touch over your clit.

“Oh, look at that. You didn’t need to get my fingers all wet for me after all, you’re fucking dripping for me.” Swirling two digits through the wetness already accumulated, your head fell back, a whimper of his name carried away on the winds.

“You once told me that I was too in my head. You helped me focus, just like this. Let me help you unfocus now. Let me touch you, let me make you feel good.” One hand gripped at his forearm around your throat, gentle but firm, holding you secure where you all but balanced over the edge. The other reached for his hand, hidden under your leggings and the swirl of shadows as he dipped one finger into your core, sinking it slowly into you. “Az…”

“Making you feel good, sweetheart, watching you come undone is what’s going to help me. I want you to scream my name so loud I can’t hear any of the bad thoughts, just you.” As he spoke, he pulled his touch back, only to snap back in with both fingers instead of one, and your back arched again with a cry of his name.

Again and again, his fingers dragged over every spot within you that made yous hake only to snap back against you, not letting the limits of your clothing stop him at all. Then again, it never had before, either. Just like in that training ring, he started to tease. The palm of his hand over your clit, grazing with each thrust that was never quite enough. Your hips rolled down to meet him, scrabbling, desperate for more, and his condescending laugh was hidden in your skin, but you felt every piece of it.

Heat flooded your skin, the begging you were rapidly approaching sitting like bitter acid on the tip of your tongue. Your fingers scratched anywhere you could reach, clinging to him while demanding more, thanks and request all in one. You could feel it, the whisper of pleasure over your nerves, so close but not enough, and a sob fell from your lips as his taunting.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

With a simple flick of his wrist, he was twisting his hand, reaching deeper, using all the things he’d learned about you like muscle memory to find every spot that he needed to.

“Please, Azriel!”

“Please, what?” He echoed, pulling back enough to set his forehead on your own again, lips brushing, feeling your pants wash over his face, letting him taste everything he did to you from your needy whines and gasps. “Tell me what you want.” He threw your own words back in your face, you’d made him ask you to stay, and now he wanted you to ask him to make you come.

Your lips stopped the words, another cry of his name, shaky and pathetic as he held your orgasm just out of reach, his fingers slowing to almost a stop, barely moving at all, and your frustration was so palpable you felt like electricity was jumping from your skin to his own, every hair standing on end. “Azriel! Please, please, let me come!”

“There’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With the perfect crook of his fingers, Azriel had you shaking, hurtling towards an orgasm that would leave your mind spinning, head empty when that was what you were supposed to be doing for him, but the pleasure was too heady for you to care.

His fingers buried deep in your cunt, his lips on your neck, tongue and teeth stinging and soothing as he marked you, mumbled praises interspersed with filthy promises, it was all too much. With a heavy swipe of his thumb over your clit, his name finally fell in a true scream from your lips.

He didn’t let up, not when your clit began to throb or walls pulsed. Not until you were shaking so hard through your orgasm that you were all but crawling up and over the edge of the balcony did he stop, leaving you unable to breathe for an entirely different reason as he wrung your body out for pleasure.

His hand finally left you, catching you at the waist when your knees buckled, his fingers tucking into his mouth to suck the taste of your from them, a lewd act that had your cheeks flushing with heat and your stomach tingling with need again already. Clinging onto him, your nails left crescent moons in the exposed skin of his chest, red marks on his forearms where you’d clawed at him, but he didn’t seem to care. If anything, he looked wilder now then he had before.

“That… that was even better than last time.” You panted out. He’d used all those tips and tricks he’d learned about your body from the last time to play you like his favourite game this time, driving you to an earth-shattering orgasm with a few touches and buttons pushed, knowing you too well.

Your only reply was a harsh kiss, his tongue forcing its way between your lips to let you taste yourself as he held you solidly to him. Your lips were slow and languid where his were hurried and desperate, mind still working far too quickly, still holding onto so much, the night nowhere near over if he hadn't started to let it go.

A shadow swiped across the back of your legs, your body sinking slowly towards the ground as this time he doesn’t bother to correct you, this time, it was intentional. Your lips are torn apart, your knees meeting the stone as he sets you down, with enough care that your teeth don’t clatter and your knees aren’t cut, a flash of your love in there despite the monster taking over his body.

“Gods, I knew you’d look good on your knees for me. Always so pretty, baby. So fuckin’ pretty.” He swept your hair over your shoulders, a finger under your chin to tip your head up, shadows so high around you that if he willed it they’d go over your head entirely, smothering you within them and taking you prisoner. “Bet you’d look good if your mouth was stuffed with my cock too, huh? Shall we find out?”

Your legs clenched at his words, a dizzy wave of arousal slamming into you at full force. You’d thought about Az bossing you around before, the voice he used at training or on missions, hoping he’d one day turn it on you between the sheets too. This was so much colder and crueller than that, it was almost mocking, like he truly was taking you for the toy you’d offered yourself up to be, his to use for the night until he felt better, and he wore that role like a second skin.

His leathers sit low on his hips, sharp hipbones exposed to you along with the deep dip of his muscled stomach, trailing down with a patch of hair from his navel to disappear between the laces. Leaning in, you left a light kiss over the soft hairs just above the hemline, a hiss on his lips as he watched you, and you watched him through your lashes.

Another kiss, this one to his hipbone, and then to the other, his hand clenching and unclenching by his side as you left scattered kisses along the base of his stomach, tongue occasionally flicking out to tease. When he’d seemingly had enough, his hand settled on your head, fingers weaving into your hair, gathering the strands up threateningly in his fist but not tugging yet, just making his presence known, taking back every shred of that power.

Sliding your hands up his legs and over the front of his trousers, he let out a low moan at the pressure of your palms, his hips rolling into your touch as his erection strained against the fabric underneath. Your fingers toyed with the ends of each lace holding them shut, barely managing to contain him now.

“Go ahead, pretty girl.” His words were powerful but his voice was straining, watching through hooded eyes as you undid the laces slowly, unable to hide the smirk on your face as you teased him. Inching them down a little at a time, more and more of him was revealed to you, until the leathers were tight around the middle of his thighs, his cock red and angry, standing tall before you, shining with the smears of precum that already escaped him.

When you leaned in, hands still clasped at his thighs, only to leave a tantalising lick from his base to his tip, he growled. You did it again, enjoying the way the danger of riling him up anymore seemed to make you tremble with want. You cleaned the taste of him from his skin, salty and rich, merely a hint of what he’d truly taste like and yet your mouth was already watering, begging for more, needing it more than you needed air to breathe.

Another lick, and his restraint finally snapped. A shocked sound left your lips as he yanked your head back hard by the first in your hair, taking his cock within his other hand, and slapping it against your cheek. “Open up, before I fucking make you.”

Your jaw fell open of its own command, lips parting and tongue sitting flat, and there was far too much pride in his gaze as he grinned down at you, letting the head of his cock hover millimetres from your lips.

“Say please.”

“Please.” You were breathless, the word rushing from you, and the grin on his face was wild enough that your stomach felt like you’d fallen through the sky. The same flipping and turning that Azriel would do when he carried you through the air, just to get a rise out of you. Somehow, he managed to do the same thing when you were on the ground, too. “Please, Az, let me make you feel better.”

“Alright, baby, I’ll let you help.” With that, he was pressing himself between your lips, hot skin sliding across your tongue, the taste of him the only thing you could focus on as he slipped into your mouth. He didn’t stop, not until he was tapping against the back of your throat, a deep moan falling from his lips as he struggled to keep his eyes open, to keep his focus on you as your lips sealed tightly around him. “Fuck, sweetheart. I’ve always dreamed about what your mouth would feel like, but this is so much better than all of it.”

Your moan was muffled around him, tongue tracing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock, and the hand in your hair tightened until tears were lining your eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His hips rocked a little, pulling back only to push back in, setting a slow pace, fucking your mouth a little more each time. He built back up again, his smirk growing with every gag you gave him. He was teasing himself and you, never daring to push any further but showing exactly what he wanted, exactly where he wanted to be, and with another sharp pull of your hair to angle your head up for himself, he took it.

Pushing himself in, he kept going, until your nose was brushing against the base of his cock, and breathing became impossible. Choking around the thick length filling your throat as he held you there, his other hand came to cup your face, squeezing roughly until he was pulling out entirely, giving you a few seconds to gasp for breath, lungs burning and head spinning.

“Is this what you wanted, huh? When you offered to help me? Wanted to cry, choke on my cock in your pretty mouth?” He was trying to scare you, to see if it was all too much, to see if you would go back on your words and leave him. His face was like stone but he couldn't hide the flash of insecurity in his eyes, and you shook your head. This time, you moved before he could control you again.

Surging forward, you pushed past everything you knew, nails digging into his thighs and his knees shaking as you caught him by surprise, burying his length down your throat once again, and the stream of shaky curses left his lips. With a weak growl, he scrabbled to regain control, to think around the smooth of your tongue at his base, the lips sealed tightly, the tight swallows at his tip as salty precum filled your mouth.

Tugging on your hair, the muscles of his legs tightened, all the way over his ass and up to his wings as he pulled them taut to his body. Stroking his thumb over your cheek, he pressed against himself through the skin, holding you in place even as you tried to pull back. “Shit, sweetheart, look at you. You even look pretty when you cry.”

Catching one tear with his thumb, he raised it up, licking it from his finger and allowing you to pull back, to free one hand and stroke his spit-soaked length as you caught your breath. “Just for you, Az.”

Your voice was rough, croaky as you tries to speak around the dull ache so worth it, when he looked down with heat in his eyes and parted lips in shock. “Better be. You’re my girl.”

You lapped at him, using your fingers for everything you weren’t mouthing at, alternating between teasing his head until his legs shook before working your way back down, until your tongue was smoothing across the tops of his balls and he was letting out breathy sighs of your name, only to repeat it all over. Again and again you went, until a steady line was flowing from his tip, every drop being caught as he leaked, your scalp stinging from the grounding grip he had on you.

He was growing more and more impatient, no longer the patient man you fell for as he tried to guide you to where he wanted you, adoring gaze turning wicked once again. “I’m gonna’ cum, and if you keep teasing me, you won’t be getting the same pleasure again.”

You stilled, the promise in his gaze of more was enough to make you give in, the tone of his voice a dark threat underneath. Remaining still, your lips parted, tongue hanging a little before him and the widening of his eyes was enough to show his arousal at your obedience. With a single move, he was back in your mouth, fucking at a sloppy pace as he chased his high, your nails clawing at his thighs to keep him in place, your name an endless moan on his lips, curses and praises thrown in as his head fell back.

Once taut wings were now hanging loose, his entire body shaking, before he came; “Don’t swallow yet.”

Hot bursts of cum coated your tongue, and he held you in place, his body jerking through the intensity of his orgasm, until it was all too much, and he was pulling back. The last of his release spattered across your lips, sitting heavy in your mouth as he panted. The hand in your hair finally slipped out, your eyes almost crossing at the relief of it, and his hand slipped down to rub at the pearly beads coating your lips, pressing them into your skin before tipping your chin up.

“Let me see it.”

Parting your lips, he let out a broken moan at the sight, the coat of his release over your tongue, and nodding his head. His cock twitched, never softening but only bouncing more, an angry red beginning to take over as his need still recessed evidently, watching you swallow before helping you to your feet.

As you stared up at him, he smiled, dipping down to kiss your sticky lips, licking the taste of himself from them as you panted against his mouth. He said he wanted to ruin you, and yet you’d never expected this. You were taken apart, piece by piece until you were nothing but a shattered mess in his hands, and he was all that was holding you together.

Your thighs were slick with your arousal, rubbing together unashamedly as he kissed the taste of himself from your tongue, a soft contrast to the bruising grip he’d had on your hips, your neck, your hair, only moments ago. His mouth trailed up, a sweet, wet kiss left on each cheek, before his nose was coming back to bump with yours.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect.” The words came with a sharp smack across your ass, the skin stinging, threatening to leave a mark there too, and your body jolted into his. “Since you’ve been so good, I’ll let you choose how you take my cock first. You’ve got one minute, and I expect you naked on my bed, in whatever position you want it.”

Another smack, and you were being dismissed, stumbling over shaky legs as excitement coursed through your body. Stripping your shirt off and over your head, you left a trail of clothing as you went, bra next, then your leggings, shoes and socks gone and panties last, until you found yourself at the baseboard, staring at the large bed designed for maximum Illyrian comfort, threatening to swallow you whole when you crawled onto it.

Shadows swirled around you, traces up your legs until you shivered, a cool swipe over your heated core, through your messy hair, tweaking at taut nipples until you whimper, mind a frenzy as you tried to work out what to do.

Azriel moved like water in the night, silent and invisible, until he was pressed up behind you, one hand splaying over your waist and the other shifting your hair over one shoulder. A disapproving noise left his mouth as he lowered it, pressed a kiss to your skin, and your head fell to the side to give him more space, eyes fluttering shut.

“What did I say?”

Your lips fell open to respond, to explain yourself, but all that came out with a surprised cry of his name as his teeth clamped down against your skin, pain and pleasure blurring into one. He licked across the mark, before doing it again, never enough to break the skin, but enough to leave his imprints on you. Marked, bitten like two wild creatures in the heat of it all, and that was exactly how you felt. Trembling in his arms, he shushed you quietly.

“I told you where I wanted you, you didn’t listen.”

“I couldn't decide!” His lips were skimming your skin again, the other side now, teeth grazing, but pausing at your words. “I’ve thought about you so much, about this, I didn’t know what I wanted most.”

He pulled back, kissing his way back up your shoulder until he was nuzzling a hot kiss into the skin of your neck, your panting the only sound to fill the room as he turned your face towards him with one finger. A soft kiss was placed on your lips, no tongue or teeth but full of emotion, and he barely even pulled back to speak, “I love you.”

Your eyes snapped open, meeting his as a cold shock broke through hot, hazy lust, but he wasn’t ready to linger. The darkness still had a tight grip on him, those few words breaking through didn’t stop the tidal wave of need, because your mind had yet to catch up before your cheek was pressing into the bedsheets, hips being pulled up as Azriel manhandled you to the centre of the bed.

Your fingers grasped at cotton sheets, knees digging in for purchase on the soft fabric, as he layered himself over you, kissing at the top of your spine and surrounding you entirely. His wings were like a blanket, covering you on either side, his arms on your hips, gripping tightly. Now, you could feel all of him. He must’ve shed his clothes when you did, because that thick length was pulsing against your core, pressed up and rocking in slow motions as he created the most delicious friction, your eyes rolling.

When the head of his cock bumped against your swollen clit, a pornographic sound left your lips, something sinful and dark, and he chuckled as he left little nips along your skin as he shifted back.

His slap across your ass was electricity sparking over your skin, continuing to abuse your clit while giving you nothing at all, clenching emptily as he left a matching spank to the other side. “You look so good decorated with my handprints.”

“Azriel, please, stop teasing, I need you.” Your cries only made him laugh, holding you firm as you rocked back to meet him, desperately seeking something more, and embarrassed heat flushed over your cheeks, blending into tear-soaked skin and pretty love-bites.

“You don’t need me, you need this,” He taunted, lining himself up and fucking into you with one quick thrust. A scream left you as he did, stretching you so perfectly that your eyes crossed at the intrusion, a burning as he let you settle, to adjust to his length, that left you squirming, hips rubbing against his as he sat at full depth. “I bet you feel better now, sweetheart, full of my cock. Does that make you happier?”

“So, so happy…” Your babble was senseless, tailing off into more pleas of his name as he set a steady rhythm.

The last of that feral anger came through, unhinged and needy as he fucked out every bit of pent-up anger. His thrusts were brutal, hips snapping into yours hard enough that you were pushed up the bed, gripping at the bedsheets to hold steady. Everything else in the room, in your mind, slipped away, until you could only focus on the sloppy rhythm of his pounding into you, every connection, every thrust as he hit spots inside of you that made you see stars. “So godsdamned wet for me, so warm and soft. If my heart gave out from fucking you, and I’d die happy.”

“Oh, gods…”

“No gods are watching over you now, my love, just me. If you’re gonna’ moan anyone’s name, I want it to be mine.” Your toes were curling with the pleasure, the knuckles in your fingers aching as you clung onto the sheets for strength, body shaking. He left kisses up and down your spine, bites and spanks until every part of your body felt like it had been touched, been played with, another part taken away only to be put back better.

He was breathing just as hard as you were, moans of your name coming out in broken sighs, his hand closing over your own as he fell atop you with the sheer intensity of it all. Your bodies were moulded together like you were made for it, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, skin covered in a light sheen of sweat that made everything so much more erotic.

The scent of him overwhelmed you, stronger and deeper with his arousal, the smell of sex in the room thick and heavy, and you cried out his name as it all blended into something indescribable.

Reaching his other hand around you, scarred fingertips skimmed over the apex of your thighs, a few messy circles was all it took to send you spiralling over the edge. “Oh, fuck, Az!”

When you came, it was like a storm crashing onto the beaches, your body spasming until not even your knees could hold you up, collapsing down into the bedding and freeing yourself of his movements for only a second, before his body was following you down. His hand, still trapped under your body kept going, until moans turned into cries and sobs, pleasure you couldn’t take anymore, it was so good.

Your body was lax, pliant in his arms as he flipped you over, his for the taking as he pried your shaking thighs apart to bare your sopping cunt to himself again.

“Need y’to give me one more, my love. Can’t get enough of your pussy, can you give me another?” His lips closed over your own, and his tongue playing with yours could barely count as a kiss, your mind hardly worked, just a filthy collision of his lips with your own. “One more, yeah?”

“Yeah, Az, I can do it. I want it…” Lifting up your legs to latch at his hips, your heels dug into his firm ass, pressing him forward again, and he took the hint. In one easy movement, his hips were cradled between your legs, his hands on either side of your head and he was sheathing himself inside of you once again.

Your back arched, a scream in his ear as his head fell forwards, damp foreheads pressing together as he dove back into a messy pace. What had already been uncontrollable before was now a chaotic mess, jerks of his hips as he frantically followed his own high, curses spilling from him and muscles tense.

When he couldn't hold himself up anymore, he dropped to his forearms, putting everything he had into those final movements, the grinding of his body lighting you up. Your nipples scarped his chest, the base of his cock thumping your clit with every sporadic movement, and your screams became silent as white-hot bliss flooded your body.

He gave your front the same treatment, teeth and lips leaving no spot untouched, committing you to memory with his mouth as he left stains and splotches across your skin with his rough touch.

“Azriel, Azriel, Azriel!” Like a chant, you were incapable of saying anything else, even your own name escaped you as you focus on him, the vision of him before you, jaw clenched and eyes sparkling, never looking away from you for even a second. Your body was utterly boneless, your finger shaking as you reached up over his shoulder, clamping your teeth down against his shoulder the same way he had done to you, and brushing your lips down over his wing.

That was it, a soft stroke and a cruel bite, and he was shattering above you, a burst of power unlike any of the others, the door rattling and the winds trembling as he came. An explosion, the feeling of his heat filling you up sent another orgasm cresting through your body, shuddering up your spine until your head was pressing into the bed, his head in your neck. He never stopped moving, riding both of you through your peaks until it was too much, finally coming to a stop, still tucked deep inside of you, and his body collapsed down on top of yours.

His head remained where it was, breathing evening out as he took steady breaths. His heart was pressed to your stomach, the beat of it synching to your own as both of you began to even back out. The chill from the open patio doors finally started to take effect, swiping the heat from the room and taking the intoxicating smell of sex and your combined scents with it, leaving only the palpable tension between you both.

Your body was still trembling, still spasming with the occasional twitch, a feeling flooding your body that you knew would take hours to go away as you pulled yourself back together from the way Azriel had torn you apart.

Your fingers were tracing up and down his spine when you felt him stiffen, when the shallow breathing that had almost convinced you he’d fallen asleep was a ragged gasp. He lifted his fingers, pulling back a fraction only to push your jaw to the side, tracing across your skin slowly, from one patch to another, the more he distanced himself.

Rocking back onto his knees, his length finally pulled from your sensitive core, a sound of true pain now leaving you as the soreness began to kick in, and he winced as he settled into with one hand holding him up above you. He didn’t look down, not for a second to the seed of his own dripping from you and ruining the bedsheets, but instead, an anguished look took over his face as he traced softly over your skin.

Propping yourself up weakly on your arms, you watched him, brows furrowed in confusion as he became more and more hurt.

“Oh, fuck, baby. I-I’m so sorry…”

Now you understood, watching him trace the tip of his index finger over a bite on your shoulder, down to a bruise on the side of your breast, made by his lips in the throes of passion. “Azriel-”

“What did I do to you?” His voice cracked, the spiralling already starting, and you freed your arms, collapsing back into the bed only to pull you with him, ignoring his resistance and tugging his body back against your own.

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do!”

“I hurt you!” He sniffed, the outburst watery and broken, and your head shook urgently, leaving kisses dotted along his cheeks when he pulled back enough to look at you.

“Stop it, stop it right now, Azriel.” You rarely took such a tone with him, the pain on his face only worsening with confusion as he stared. “You didn’t hurt me. You gave me every chance to leave and I chose to stay. What we just did was fucking fantastic, and even if you were locked up in your head, you were here with me the entire time. These marks mean nothing, because every touch was so full of love, Azriel. I could feel it. These marks don’t mean you hurt me, they show me just how much you love me.”

His lips were pursed tight, still attempting to pull away, and you had no choice. Using all that training he’d put you through, in the midst of his distraction, you flipped him over, cautious to avoid catching his wings, and leaving him sprawled out on his back. Settling into his lap, your hands found his shoulders, pinning him to the bed and pressing your forehead to his.

“I love you, Azriel.” His eyes widened, swollen and kiss-bruised lips parting, and a smile finally tugged at your own. “I love you. I love you so much, and I wanted to be here for you. If you don’t stop, you’re gonna’ break my fucking heart, because it’ll mean you don’t trust yourself for me, to know what we need.”

“Of course, I trust you.” His whisper came immediately, setting hesitant hands over his marks on your waist, holding you reverently instead of demandingly now, tugging you a little closer to his chest. “I just… fuck, seeing you like this at my doing-”

“I think I left my fair share of marks on you too.” You dragged one finger over a scratch on his bicep, a hiss through his teeth as he looked down at it. Looked down at all of them. His marks would be gone by morning, that Illyrian healing already kicking in, but the look of awe growing on his face would never fade. “This one,” Tracing your finger beside the scratch instead of over it, you drew his attention back to you, “I gave you this one because I love the way you smile at me.”

You moved to another, tracing a bite on his shoulder where your teeth had sunk in to hold back a scream.

“I gave you this one because you never let me feel sad or alone.”

“I gave you this one,” He cut off, voice a little shaky as he tried to rewrite hatred to love, running his thumb over a kiss by your nipple, but never dropping your gaze. “I gave you this one because I love how brave you are.”

You smiled, his own smile coming back, as you looped your arms around his neck. “See? These are not marks of hurt, they’re marks of love. They’re called love-bites for a reason, you know?”

He only chuckled, tracing his fingers over the reddened skin of your ass, still raw from his palm. “I gave you these spanks for making cheesy jokes.”

“You love them.”

“No, but I love you.” He spoke, catching your lips a second later in the gentlest kiss yet. He leaned back, taking you with him, his mouth never leaving your own as he settled back into the pillows, shadows closing the balcony doors and settling like a blanket around you both. “Thank you for being here for me.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Az.” You shifted, settling your cheek on his shoulder, and pulling the real blankets across your bodies for warmth, his arms curling protectively around you to hold you there. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I don’t want anything like what happened to ever touch you.” His lips brushed your forehead, and you pressed a little further into his embrace. “I feel better, though. So much better, just for having you here in my arms. I don’t want you to ever leave them.”

“I guess I could stay for a while.”

“I want you to stay forever.” His mumble came through a lazy breath and the cloud of sleep hanging over you both, exhaustion weighing in at last, but you smiled despite it all.

“Forever it is, then.”

#azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar/reader #acotar x you #acotar/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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satorusugurugurl · 1 month

Note

If this request makes you uncomfortable or isn’t something you want to write, I apologize and please ignore my request!

Heyy! I was wondering if I could request a satoru x reader x Suguru smut? With like, some bdsm mixed in yk. Tying reader up, satoru is a tease, and likes to make her squirm and ask questions he know she can’t answer because Suguru is fucking her throat. But Suguru is mean. Mean and tougher than satoru. He tells satoru to stop being so gentle with you, that not only do you deserve rough treatment but you like it. And satoru listens to him, of course. I just want them to run through me like a train😞

Also same mean geto anon (again lol) I’m gonna just sign off w an emoji now :3 -🍭

Hi Anon!

This isn't my cup of tea, it's my FUCKING jam!!

Summary: Gojo and Geto had been on a two-week-long mission, which hadn't gone as smoothly as Suguru wanted. He was pent-up and frustrated. So, of course, Gojo called you to warn you it might not be a good idea to come over. You, of course, did not heed his warning. The second you get home, you realize that you were screwed.

Word Count: 3,706

Warnings: BDSM, rough sex, oral sex, so much sex, degradation, teasing, the smuttiest of smut

A/N: Good God, Satoru x Reader x Suguru is my weakness!! I put my whole heart into this. Geto Suguru, teacher AU, is my kryptonite!

Part Two

She Likes it Like That

“Y/N babe,” Gojo said in a hushed whisper, “you probably shouldn't come home tonight.”

You cocked an eyebrow, looking away from the first year's training. “I'm sorry, did you just tell me not to come home. . .to our apartment?” The world ‘our’ came out like acid.

Gojo sighed overdramatically. “Don't say it like that. I'm trying to save you! Suguru is in such a bad mood.” You listened to him walking around. “I sighed out loud when I noticed the last of my mochi was gone. Fuck you for that, by the way, and do you know what he said to me?” You pinched at the bridge of your nose, waiting for the rant to continue. “He told me to shut the fuck up! For sighing!”

“What did you do to piss him off? Oh, and just an FYI, I bought you more mochi, asshole.”

“Oh—” silence, “thank you-I’m sorry, please don't return it.”

“Satoru! Forget about the mochi. What happened to Sugu?”

The mission your partners were sent on did not go as planned. Their hotel had flooded; it was not like they had time to consider sleeping. The higher-ups sent them to an abandoned mountainside village full of cursed spirits. Poor Suguru had to swallow dozens for nearly two weeks. Gojo had enough; he couldn't stand the pained expression on his face as he gagged the last spirit down. So he decided to Hollow-Purpled the entire village.

The second they got back, the higher-ups scolded the hell out of them. Chastising them, complaining that they didn't do a good enough job. After all their hard work, the time they spent away from home, from you. Those bastards dared to complain about their hard work. It sent Suguru into a terrible mood, one that was bound to end with either a fight or someone getting fucked into the mattress.

One thing about Suguru was that when he was pissy, things felt out of his control. He needed to take control back. Which meant he wanted to have sex. He would be rough, really rough, tying either you or Satoru up, not letting you go until he had calmed down. Or if one of you was fucked too stupid to continue, his eyes focused on the other that wasn't tied up.

“So please, just stay with Ieiri tonight. I'm going to lock myself in my room. Last time he was this pissed off, the both of us were so sore we couldn't move.”

“Ugh, fuckin’ whatever.” This whole situation wasn't fair. You hated how your boyfriends were mistreated.

“Yeah, just stay the—oh, hi Suguru.” There was a shuffling in the background. “No, I wasn't talking shit.” Satoru nervously laughed. “Look, Sugu—no, put down the rope—”

“Toru?” Panic for your boyfriend sank into your stomach.

“Hey! Wait a second—Sugu—”

Before any other indication of what was happening came through the receiver, the other line cut off. So you quickly yelled to the students you had to leave and took off. By the time you made it, you were breathless from running and realized that in your panic, you left your keys at work.

You picked up the spare key hidden under the doormat. Just as you were about to unlock the door, it flew open. You slowly blinked, looking up at a very irritated Suguru. The man radiated gloom and tension. He was in his sweatpants, and his hair was tied in a messy bun, and, dear God, he looked pent up.

“Why the fuck are you using the spare key?”

“I-I uh—”

“Ooooh~ there she is~!” a hand gently rested against Suguru’s shoulder as Satoru peered down at you from behind your dark-haired boyfriend. “There's our girl!”

It only took a moment to see that Satoru mirrored Suguru’s frustration and anger. Oh fuck. The key fell from your hand as you took a step back. Suguru was demanding and rough when he was pent up. Satoru, on the other hand, was a tease. He liked pushing you, making you cry. Both of them being in a pissy mood simultaneously, this was a nightmare for you.

“Y-You, I thought you were in trouble!”

“Oh yeah, no.” Suguru’s soured face slowly twisted into a smirk as Satoru licked his lip. “But you~?” Suguru’s hand darted out, grabbing you by the front of your shirt, preventing you from moving further back. “You're royally fucked.” Before you even had a chance to respond, Suguru and Satoru grabbed you, yanking you inside.

“Awe~” Satoru hummed as he trailed his kiss up the bare thighs he lay between. “Look at you~ trying to clamp your thighs shut.” Gojo’s fingers were buried deep inside of you. Finger fucking you to the edge of yet another orgasm he would deny. “But you can't, can you~? Suguru’s got you all tied to the bed, spread out for us to use you.” A muffled moan escaped you. “Huh? What was that princess? You gotta use your big girl words.” Satoru tilted his head, cupping his free hand around the back of his ear. “Oooh! That's right, you can't talk when getting your throat fucked.”

You gagged as Suguru's cock hit the back of your throat. He was quiet, his eyes shut in concentration. He looked so fucking hot, so focused on the feeling of your mouth. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he pulled in and out of your mouth, grunting softly as you hollowed your cheeks. But the more Satoru spoke, the more Suguru knitted his eyebrows.

“I bet you want me to stuff your pussy, too, don't you~? You want to be spit-roasted between your two boyfriends?” Your pussy twitched at his words. “Oooh~!! Your cunt just twitched. Is that what our sweet girl wants—”

“Satoru,” Suguru snarled, “shut the fuck up.”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me. Y/N likes it when I tease her.”

Suguru tsked, pulling his thick cock out of your mouth. You gasped and coughed, spit and precum coating your chin. Between your pants and the gasps for air, Suguru went to what you thought would be a head pat. Instead, his fingers tangled in your air with a hard yank, pulling you up to look down at Satoru. His face was flushed, cerulean eyes wide as he looked between his two partners.

“Look at the fucking slutty face she's making.” The grip on your hair tightened. “You think she looks like this because of your pitiful teasing?” A shaky moan escaped you as he tightened his grip harder. “No, she looks like this because this little slut likes it rough.”

Fuck, you wanted more, to run your hands over Suguru’s arms, to grip his cock, urging him to keep fucking your throat. You were desperate to trap Satoru's head firmly between your thighs, forcing him to kiss and lick your clit. Instead, you weakly tugged at the purple restraints tied to both your wrists and ankles. Suguru had set up the rigging underneath the mattress, making it impossible for you to move. Meaning if you wanted his cock back in your mouth or Satoru’s tongue inside of you, you had to wait for them.

What made it more frustrating was the fact that you were completely bare. Not allowing you to hide the way your body reacted to Suguru’s dirty words. He was telling the truth. And the truth was behind your body's reactions. Gojo could see it in the way your tight entrance clenched around his fingers. He could feel your pussy drip around him, your wetness running down his knuckles. Suguru was right; you did like it; no, like wasn't the right word.

You fucking loved it.

Suguru could see the wheels turning in Satoru’s head as his eyes glittered with lust and excitement. “Satoru~ do you finally see it?~” The way Suguru purred his name had Satoru’s cock throbbing. “You see why she came home, even though she knew she’d get fucked?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's a fucking slut.”

“Yeah, she is.” A sharp tug on your head made you yelp. Suguru grinned, cocking an eyebrow at you. “You want it rough? Want me to fuck your throat so hard you cry, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

Gripping his cock at the base, Suguru slapped his thick meat against your cheek. “That's a good girl. Now open up.” slowly, you opened your mouth to him. Watching your tongue slip out had his tip angry, throbbing red. “Now,” he smeared the beading precum over your bottom lip, “say ah~.”

“Ahh~” The second that sound left your pretty mouth Suguru shoved his cock in your mouth. Your eyes stung as tears filled your eyes.

Satoru’s fingers had stopped their slow movements inside of you. His mouth was dry as he gulped. Suguru had been rough before, but this was a whole new level. His thick fingers wrapped around your Y/H/C hair, holding your head in place. His hips pull back before slamming forward, his ass clenching with the force of each thrust. Blue eyes slowly trailed over to your face. Your eyes were red, big tears slowly down your cheeks, and your throat was fucked. Satoru swore he could see Suguru’s tip bulging in your slender neck.

This was fucking hot. Suguru’s bare back glittered in the low light of the bedroom, a sheen of sweat beaded over his toned muscles. It was like watching a god fuck a mortal Suguru radiated a dominating power as he watched their girlfriend choke and gag on his cock. Satoru’s cock was so hard it fucking hurt. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around his throbbing shaft, jerking it slowly as he leaned down, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs.

The gentle kisses had you sighing contently around Suguru’s cock. Looking over his shoulder, Suguru sighed as he watched Satoru. His pink tongue was stuck out, gently teasing your damp folds. The sensation had you sighing around his dick, and that was not what he needed right this fucking second. Suguru wanted more; he needed it to relieve the tension in his shoulder. But that relief, the release he needed, wouldn’t happen, with Satoru teasing you like he loved to do.

“Satoru,” Suguru's voice was rough, “I just told you Y/N likes it rough.”

“Uh-huh~” Satoru’s voice was muffled as his face buried in your pussy, making you whine around the cock buried in your mouth.

“You’re not being rough enough.” Satoru pulled back, making you whine in protest. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to come down here and eat Y/N’s pussy while I get my dick sucked?”

“No.” The cocky smile that was beginning to form on Satoru’s face was suddenly gone as Suguru reached his free hand down, wrapping his fingers in soft white hair. “I want you to fucking eat her cunt out like you fucking hate her.” Your eyes rolled back as Satoru was slammed back down into your pussy. The moan that left his mouth vibrated just right against our clit, making you cry out. “Ah~ fuck yes.” Your cries vibrated around Suguru’s cock, just the way he wanted. “That’s it, Satoru, keep it up.”

“Mmmmph.” Finally, having a picture of how Suguru wanted him to act, Satoru found himself motivated. Again, it might be because his boyfriend was tugging and pulling at his sensitive hairline. Yeah, that was motivating him. Fuck you like he hated you, he could do that. He was just as pent-up as Suguru was.

Fingers slammed inside your pussy, fucking in and out of your tight hole with a force and speed that had you crying out in pleasure. Your moans felt so fucking good, and the more you opened your mouth to cry, the deeper Suguru fucked your throat. He hit the back over and over again, his hand pressing firmly against Satoru’s head, pushing him harder against your clit. The two of you moaned while your mouths were being used; the sounds of whimpers, squelches, and gagging were like a symphony to Suguru’s ears.

Out of all the ways for him to relieve his stress, this was by far his favorite.

“Hah—fuck keep that up, Satoru, bring her right to the edge, then stop. I want her cumming with both of us inside of her. Fucking her so rough she has to call out of work tomorrow and Friday.” The thought of that had you pulling on your restraints. “Oooh oh, you like that? You like knowing the two of us will make sure you can’t walk or talk tomorrow?” Your muffled moans were quickly molded into gags as Suguru roughly fucked your face. “Yeah, you fucking do, you nasty little slut.”

Your mind was spinning as you felt yourself climbing closer and closer to your orgasm. The room was so hot and reeked of sex. It was all you could do not to allow yourself to cum right then and there. Satoru could feel it, the way your little swollen clit throbbed against his tongue, how your walls clamped down on his fingers. He wanted to send you over the edge. He was close to following you as he fucked his hips helplessly into the mattress, wishing it was your wet pussy instead.

One orgasm wouldn’t hurt, would it? You had been so good to them, allowing the duo to drag you into the house, strip you in the entryway, and tie you to the bed. Plus, on top of all that, they had left you alone for two weeks. You had to rely on that stupid vibrator Suguru insisted on allowing you to keep. That stupid toy was nothing compared to his tongue. Which was probably why he was bringing you to a mind-blowing orgasm in under three minutes.

Yeah, he was going to let you cum.

Curling his fingers up into your g-spot, Satoru fucked you as fast as his wrist would allow. Suguru instantly knew what was happening. From the way your eyes shut to how loud you were moaning around him, you were seconds away from cumming. If he was in a better mood, he might have allowed it to happen. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Stop.” Suguru scolded, pulling Satoru away from your dripping sex.

Both you and Satoru made disapproving groans as your orgasm slowly faded out of sight. “Doesn’t she deserve a treat? She’s been so good!” Satoru whined, licking your juices off his lips.

“I agree. Y/N does deserve a reward. But you need to give it to her in the roughest way that you can.” Suguru pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to catch your breath. “Look at it this way. We get to blow off the steam while we make up for making her play with herself for two weeks.”

“Huh?” Those words struck a different chord in Satoru, and his cock twitched.

“Y/N, sweetheart, how often would you say you played with yourself when we were gone.”

You swallowed at the air greedily. “I don’t know, seven, maybe eight times.” Both your boyfriends shuddered, hearing the hoarseness of your voice.

“And out of all of those times, did you cum as hard as you do with us.”

“Not at all. They were all baby orgasms.”

Suguru shut his eyes, nodding his head. “See, Satoru, not only does our little slut like us rough and demanding, but we have to make up for those eight little orgasms.” When the dark-haired man looked back at Satoru, he saw a flash of white before your scream of shock and please bounced off the walls.

Suguru’s eyes were slightly wide as his brain tried to catch up with what his eyes had just witnessed. What he saw was Satoru balls deep inside of you. His thrusts were sloppy and needy, and fuck you looked as stunned as Suguru. One second you had been empty, pussy craving a cock deep inside of it from the denied orgasm. In the blink of an eye, Satoru was fucking into you more brutal than he’d ever fucked you before.

“I fucking told you, that toy was nothing compared to us.” Satoru snarled against the crook of your neck, digging his teeth into the sensitive skin. “Fucking stupid toy, not pleasing my girl.”

“Oh my—fuck, holy fuck!” You cried out, mouth wide open. Giving Suguru the perfect opportunity to get back to fucking your throat. The bittersweet taste of pre-cum had your mouth watering. He returned to the brutal pace he was in several minutes again.

“She needs that Satoru. What if we get sent on another long mission? She’s just supposed to suffer?” The thought of that had Suguru tilting his head, bangs falling in front of his eye. “You know what, I think you might be on to something. If we take her toy away, then we’d have to fuck her even harder the next time we get home.”

Satoru’s teeth sank harder into your neck as the tip of his cock slammed almost too hard into your cervix, making you scream around Suguru. “Exactly. Let me use reversal red on it, Y/N, please, baby.” You started to shake your head in a desperate plea to let you keep it. But Suguru’s cock in your throat made it impossible to do so. “What was that? Oh, right, you have your mouth full.” His lips moved against your pulse as his fingers dug into your hips. “Guess we’ll just have to say the way your clamping down on my cock is a yes in our book.” Your eyes darted up to Suguru, who had bought you the toy, for help.

“Mhmm fuck, yeah, I’m pretty sure she just hummed an ‘uh-huh’ around my cock.”

You wanted to argue, to fight against this rash decision, but you felt so good it was almost impossible to care. You were screaming around Suguru’s cock. Tears streaming down your face, leaving behind trails of mascara. They were both being so mean and rough. God, it was so fucking good. Who cared about a clit sucker when your throat and pussy were being fucked into next week.

“She’s close.” Satoru cried out, his balls slapping against your ass. “Oh fuck she’s hugging my cock so tight I’m going to explode Suguru.”

With blurry eyes, you glanced up at Suguru. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes shut tight. “I know, oh fuck I know, I’m so close, Satoru, don’t fuckin’ stop, make her cum, make her cum so hard.” Both his hands grabbed your face fucking your throat roughly as Satoru cried out, his hand pressing roughly on your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

That was all that you needed. You cried out, squirting all over Satoru’s crotch, abdomen, and the mattress. Your orgasm set a domino effect between your boyfriends. Suguru followed behind you, his body hunched over you, his hands gently squeezing your head as he filled your mouth full of his thick cum. You weakly tried swallowing all of it, but that was somewhat difficult as Satoru extended your orgasm.

His thumb continues to rub your clit until his face scrunch up, mouth open in a feral growl. Satoru's orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut. He fucked all three of you harder, closer to oblivion. The headboard slamming against the wall as the restraint dug into your wrists was the only thing grounding you to remain on Earth. Satoru didn’t let up on the rough thrusts until he felt his cum dripping around his cock onto the bed.

The throbbing pain in the back of your throat, deep inside of your pussy was all the confirmation you needed that your boyfriends had fulfilled their promise. Never in your life had you been fucked so roughly. But it was a pain that you warmly welcomed.

After coming down, Suguru was the first to move gently. The rough hands that had been holding you in a vice gently held you as he pulled his softening cock out of your mouth. “Lay down.” His gruff, gentle voice whispered as he helped rest you against a pillow.

“Oh fuck—“ Satoru lifted his head off your shoulder, “I haven’t cum that hard in a while.” He was so slow, pulling out of you, grimacing as you cried out. “Sorry, fuck I’m sorry, baby.”

You shut your eyes, listening to Satoru getting out of bed. You could hear water running in the bathroom as gentle fingers began undoing your restraints. “You did such a good job, Y/N,” Suguru whispered. “Such a good girl for us.” His praise had you humming happily as he made quick work of the rest of the ropes.

“Suguru, let’s order in, yeah?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

The next half hour was a blur of warm happiness. Satoru helped wash your body in a bubble bath before Suguru joined you, kneeling next to the tub, lovingly stroking your face and hair. After you were cleaned up, your hair brushed, and pajamas on. You crawled into your bed with fresh sheets and relaxed. Satoru and Suguru fluffed your pillows and brought you a cup of tea for your raw throat. When your dinner arrived, the three of you sat in bed together to eat as a B-grade horror movie played on the television.

After eating, Satoru left to throw out the take-out containers. “Mmm, thank you for letting us do all that,” Suguru said as he crawled into bed after his shower. “That mission, it was rough.”

“I’m always happy to help.” Your voice cracked, making Suguru frown. “Stop frowning,” you flicked his forehead. “I like it rough.”

The bed dipped, and Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist. “Y/N can handle it. She is dating the two strongest, after all.” Both you and Suguru scoffed, relaxing in the growing silence. “Oh, by the way, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You yawned, snuggling into Suguru’s chest as he turned the bedside lamp off.

“Did you bring home my mochi?”

In the dark of the room, you heard a thump and Satoru’s whine before Suguru pulled the three of you closer to him. “Satoru shut the fuck up about the mochi.”

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

about someone, that isn't you

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader

wc: 3.1k warnings: angst. injured reader. whump. happy ending. blood. feelings. jo-angst. summary: memories that cloud reality, forcing him to blink them away—finding less glimmer, less shine greeting him as your eyes try to go dull.

He finds you in the centre of dust and debris.

You’re painted in scarlet, lying boldly in off-cream ruin. And his heart hurls itself into his ribs—stopping, painfully halting its thump as he takes you in.

You with your eyes open, you’re searching and seeking—lips parted as you gasp and groan. Your hands shakily smother the wound. The hole pierced into you, allowing carmine to flow past your trembling fingers.

The sight such a contrast to yesterday.

When you'd not stopped smirking, laughing, being.

The sand had whipped across your face, and your eyes had glimmered and shone. Almost brighter than the rising sun.

His ink-surrounded eyes watched as you took in the start of the new day, trying to hold back your amazement until you turned, and stared directly at him. Piercing into him with a shade so beautiful, he wasn’t sure there could be a name.

Dense, hefty, unsaid words pulsed in time with the breeze running through the sand. Ones that had been forming for weeks, months.

The mountainside cave you’re both holed in casting you both in slithers of light and shadow. Making your smile closer to a smirk.

Just tell her. Just tell her. Just tell her.

Ghost wishes they were back there.

Desperately wishes it. Wanting life to have a button, one he could slam his gloves fist into—forcing it to restart like a last checkpoint as if this were a game and not real life.

But this is real.

The crimson soaking your hands, wrist and vest is proof of it. Your whimpers are more stacked evidence, layering their pitches on top of one another to create a sound that grates—that he’ll never be able to rid.

It makes his mask cling to his mouth, all claggy and tight—claustrophobic. Worsening as the seconds drag into a full minute.

He knows you’ve lost too much. Ghost doing the maths while Simon begins preparing himself, knowing if he doesn’t move, you’ll be gone, lost to fate and bad choices—ripped from his hands.

Then your eyes find him.

Even in desperation—you dig your metaphorical heels into staying awake, present and alive. Your eyes are full of fire, of fight. Beckoning him, willing him to move closer. It awakens him, kicking the battle instincts in, forcing him over.

He knows if you succumb, you’ll leave a crack in him.

Steal and rip a shred of him, a part which isn’t even truly whole, but whole enough. The thought slides around his emotional instincts, the ones swirling. The ones which are so deeply ingrained inside of him, that he’ll do damage to himself if he tries to unweave them. You did that. Threaded yourself throughout him, clinging to scars—both figurative and literal—holding him up, and wrapping around his organs.

You don’t know it. He’s never told you. Never planned on telling you that.

Now, he wants to spit it at you. Clutch you by the straps of your best and burn you with it. Just like you’d burnt him.

Instead, he takes your hand, watching you watching him. Almost poetic, haunting—sharing a conversation with no spoken words as he grips your fingers tighter. A gesture, a motion.

“I need to look.”

His gloved hand smothers it, feeling it sticky with red, as the other tilts your chin—watching as your eyes go heavy, struggling to fix on him. Memories of moments he’s imagined, where he touches you like this, but you’re not swimming in cherry-red.

Memories that cloud reality, forcing him to blink them away—finding less glimmer, less shine greeting him as your eyes try to go dull.

He stares all the same, hoping with enough sheer determination he can will you to make a noise or stare more purposefully.

“You hear me…?”

It’s brief, but there’s a nod.

And, while his eyes didn’t need to see it to know it was bad—it is bad. Placing your hand back, wishing to wrench his glove free and feel your warmth against his skin. Just once. Having carried you in his chest for so long, and to not know how soft you feel—to only imagine.

“G-Ghost…”

“I know.”

He feels it between his thumb and middle finger, the sob which rears its head past your lips. Slowly sliding a hand down your side until he’s tilting you, shifting you—his ears tuning into a groan that morphs into a scream. It ricochets around his skull, and vibrates through and around his cranial nerves, until all he can taste is your pain.

Through and through.

It’s something, but not everything.

Slowly tilting you back, resting you in the place you’ve found comfort in—letting his eyes stare over the rest of you. He takes in the swelling in your face, how your helmet is gone—hair in disarray. He notices how your foot is twisted, the boot likely keeping everything in place for now. Ghost also notices the rest of the blood—the amount which has soaked your lap and thigh, knowing it isn’t yours, but hating the sight of it all the same.

“Listen t’me,” he says gruffly, taking your chin again, watching your lashes flutter all heavy and difficult. “Need t’get you to the safe house. Then can radio for evac.”

“Can’t… walk…”

He knows.

Can tell that more than you can. His teeth bite down on the inside of his cheek, staring at you, watching your eyes go from open to fluttering closed.

“I know, I got you.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yes, sergeant.”

You mumble something. Low and muffled by the sound of his heartbeat.

It’s surprising how soft skin is.

Especially yours.

He hadn’t noticed initially, too intent on cleaning and suturing—on keeping you alive. Then, when he’d slid you onto your back, his palm had brushed over your cheek.

Now, he waits. His mask and gloves gone, thrown on the counter, just waiting for the next time you manage to open your eyes. Not that he’ll put them back on.

If he gets the chance to watch you wake, he wants you to see him—all of him. The scars which litter his face. The shit cut he’d tried to give himself—the myriad of shades that make up his lashes and hair colour.

Simon missed your voice. Something he wouldn’t ever admit, even under duress.

He hadn’t known a lot until he thought he’d almost lost it all. Not that he’s out of the woods. The smile you send him, the smirk—the light, playful jabs and understanding nods. Mostly, he missed how you felt like a comfort, when he didn’t understand what comfort was.

It had pelted him the moment you had stopped talking to him. Bludgeoned him somewhere between the first mile and the second. He’d tried to ignore how you’d gone limp, how your head rolled back against the crease of his bicep and shoulder. Focusing instead on imagining you’re simply asleep—tired and bored.

If not for your chest rising and falling, he’d have lost it.

But it kept him sane. The slow rise which stuttered before it fell.

Truthfully, he had suspected you’d have passed out earlier, when he first moved you. It was your surprising determination that made you hold on, murmuring nonsense he couldn’t understand. When weak fingers tried to grip his vest when he pulled you close to him.

Talk. Blink. Do something.

You’d tapped, twice.

Eyes slowly unfurled from being clenched, fingers sliding to the chin of his mask. Tapping again.

You good? P-Pain.

And he knew. Could only imagine how much.

It broke him a little bit, that one word on the puff of breath you’d struggled to find. It made him ache and wish all over again—that he’d never split up from you, that he’d been quicker, that he’d realised sooner that his side was empty and that they were all drawn to you.

His wrist still throbbed from puncturing necks. Not wanting to shoot, to make them panic—make them reckless and stick bullets in you. But they’d stuck one in, all the same—the fucking cowards.

The last soul he had in his grip when he found you, wouldn’t be recognisable. His knuckles are proof of that—feeling them bruising.

It’s in the final mile to the safe house does he realise he’s not any better.

He’s a coward, afraid.

Because your eyes had held his, shining brighter than the sun as you leaned against the mountainside. You looked like you always did—good enough to kiss. Feeling the gravitation to you, the notable pull. It would have been easier to close the gap, to slide his mask up than spend the energy he did on keeping away.

He did, though.

Just like he hadn’t at the last set of drinks when your lips were wet with beer and you’d smiled at him like he was the only person in the place. He wasn’t—not by a long shot—but you made him feel like it. A sensation so rare it made his body warm up several degrees.

There had been plenty of chances, plenty he thinks you’d have reciprocated.

Just like when he pulled you to his chest, a horrid moan leaving your throat as your hand gripped your wound—fingers weakly trying to find his neck. He could feel it, the silent plea—the last-wish you wanted to express, because you thought you’d never get the chance again. Fear and love concocting in a potion which stung the edges of his eyes and made you cling on.

But, you lived. He’d got you here. Used the knowledge he had of combat medical care to do enough to get you stable. To keep you with him.

To watch your eyes now flutter and blink. A whisper and a groan sliding from your tongue, sounding like ‘Ghost’—but he couldn’t be sure.

Convinced it was a trick of the mind. A hopeful wish.

He knelt against the floorboards, making them groan, finding your eyes half-open, panic and something else twisting across your jaw and mouth.

“You’re okay—we’re at the safe house.”

“Hurts… really h-urts.”

He slides his fingers through yours, feeling it again—soft skin, your soft skin.

It’s quiet. You’re quiet. Eyes finding him, carving over each element of his maskless face. He swears he sees you smile—brief and quickly vanished, but there for a second.

It’s all falling down.

His walls keep you safe. His shields keep you out. All of it being placed down the longer he holds your hand—the longer his knee presses against your thigh on the floor. The more he spends staring into your eyes. Slowly unravelling until he’s left with feelings and regret.

“W-w—“

“Don’t… don’t talk, alright? It’ll be soon. Real soon. Hold on for me.”

Hold on to me.

You nod. Brief and direct—the image of the perfect soldier. His eyes fall to your wound, to the bandage that is already stained. He notices the smears, the dried markings across your abdomen left by his poor cleaning.

It had stained his fingers too, his forearms. He’d tried to clean it from his skin, tried to rid your blood from his own—but you’d clung to him as desperately as you were currently doing so to life.

He blinked, staring back up to your face, finding your eyes closed and breaths minimal. No gasping, no wincing—but low, short breaths.

“You still wit’ me?”

Silence.

Nothing.

Yet, your fingers remained wrapped in his.

He’s told you’ll make it when you’re wheeled from his view. The news you had arrived to him from Johnny’s tongue.

He says nothing, making the sergeant's face scrunch when he doesn’t react—offering a nod, turning back to the report. Dismissing him. Needing solitude and thick discomfort.

Time ticks, the hands of the clock loud and annoying. They tick until they tock, they tock until they tick—and then he throws the pen. Hearing it crack, splinter into shards of plastic in the corner.

He tastes it again—your pain. It haunts him, lingering in the back of his throat—a concoction of iron and something bitter. Knowing, deep down, there’s little to rid it.

But, he pulls open the bottom drawer of his desk—pulling out two glasses and a bottle filled with amber. The light catches it, shining through the murky contents, until it gleams when he pours one out.

Ghost ensures the other glass remains an ornament, a reminder.

What’s this? A gift. Usually to make someone happy. Why? Because people do that sometimes. Plus, last time you made me drink out a mug. This doesn’t change ‘nything. ‘Course it doesn’t, Riley. Why would it?

He drains his glass. Letting it burn his oesophagus and light a fire in his lungs. The taste clings, sticking itself into his throat—merging with the taste he’s come to know as hell.

When we’re back from this next mission, you’re gonna pour me one into one of your new glasses and you’re gonna say, ‘you did good’. Y’sure of that? Positive.

He stares at the empty glass. The one untouched and left without the gleam of amber.

If the news had been different, he’s not sure it would be intact. Whether he’d be intact. If there would be as many shards of glass as there is plastic. Whether there’d be pieces of him across his office floor, mask in tatters, soul in shambles.

Something having pulsed and unfurled, slowly coming undone in the Heli back to base. A confirmation, acknowledgement, that something you-shaped had woven in passed his walls.

You didn’t belong there, but he’d done very little to rid you from him. Liking you there—likely having you.

People assumed very little terrified him, when in fact it was normality that filled him with fear. The idea of wanting and having. Ideas of Sunday mornings and bags of chips at the beach.

You especially made him weak at the knees—a threat that could be exploited if anyone were to put the pieces together. How you made his heart stutter, and blood rush to places it shouldn’t—filling his head with the possibilities of looking at stars and waking up for sunrises.

He pours another glass and drowns it. Shoving the bottle away before he considers a third.

And then he waits an hour to visit.

Secretly, he hopes to find you asleep, resting. Able to sit in silence and listen to breathing that isn’t struggled or desperate.

Ghost isn’t sure he has words to say or honesty to share—his body tired, mind frayed. Both running on fumes as the adrenaline and worries had slowly worn off.

Of course, he finds you not asleep.

If anything, Ghost is sure you’re going against all medical advice by sitting up. Your eyes land on him immediately, almost widening and warming as you take him in. As though you’d been hopefully expecting him.

You shift, pulling the blanket up a little higher—smoothing it out across your stomach as if trying to hide what he’s already seen. What is already memorised, difficult to rid.

In the bed, you look small when he’s so used to seeing you mighty. While you appear frail, he still bets you’d try to take down most soldiers. Your unwillingness to bend is the first thing he noticed in you. Your sheer determination is the second.

Walking to your bedside, his heart lurches when you wince, even if you’re quick to reach for him, beckoning him closer as he moves on demand.

The chair lightly protests as he sinks into it, the small metal legs desperate to give out under his size as he slides his hand free from his glove. Just like in the cabin.

This time he receives a smile. Soft and sweet—almost delicate. One you give so easily, and always to him when battle and war isn’t in your sight.

He knows it isn’t easy, not right now. Knows how much strength it’s taking just to stay awake, to sit up in the way you are, to speak and smile.

But you’re safe. Breathing. Alive.

Something blooming inside of him in place usually covered in shadows and demise. Your fingers tighten around his, tilting your head as he surveys—taking in the curve of your cheeks and the bow of your lips. And you feel safe and dangerous all at once. A puzzle, one he wants to commit to his mind and only pretend to undo, because he likes you mysterious.

He likes knowing the things he does, and knowing he’ll learn more if you stick around.

“I’m okay.”

He swallows, shifting the lump which had formed back in the sand. The one that had grown hour by hour, which had been accelerated by stained red and silence. Only now shrinking as you gripped him as tight as you were able to.

You nod, as if you can read his thoughts—as if there’s a transcript being read to you. Then you repeat those two words again, allowing them to slide through his ears.

“I’m—“

“You’re okay,” he repeats, low, just for you.

The silence, more comfortable than before, blankets the two of you. The soft beep of the machine behind you, the idle drip of saline.

It’s so quiet it allows his thoughts to spin. To begin to run around a wheel as they spin a mixture of poison, truth and gold.

You squeeze his hand, firmer than he’s felt since he first did it.

And he lets it fall from his tongue, let it kiss your ears as he drops his masked chin to his chest. “‘m glad you’re alive.”

He feels heavy, even if it’s a partial confession. Feels more begin to weigh on him, regret washing with doubts until they spin and spin—

“Good,” you whisper.

Words forcing his head up, finding yours already on him. Desperately slicing through his walls, past his mask until you drown in his soul.

He lets you. Has done for a while. Let’s you bask in prolonged eye contact and bathe what could be. But, it’s the first time he sinks into the waters himself.

Licking your lips, dragging the tip over your split and cracked skin. “Won’t be mad that I plan on sticking around to bother you some more then?”

“No. Don’t mind at all.”

You shift, wiggling further away as you tug him. It’s weak, barely enough to move his wrist, never mind his body. But, he shifts from the seat all the same, allowing you to think you’re dragging him beside you on the bed.

It’s tight. It’s not made for two people, never mind him being one of them. Yet, he tries to lie beside you—cautious of your ankle, your hip. He finds the scent of army soap greeting him from your hair and an elbow close to his ribs.

It’s not until you both stop moving, does he realise your hand is in his. Palm pressed against palm. Fingers tightening around him.

Then, your head lies against his shoulder. Similar to when he’d carried you when you’d been closer to death than alive. Now, it’s the other way—a funny callback, a reminder of the difference a day makes.

“Did I do good?”

He tenses, turning his head slowly as he finds you half-smirking.

“You almost fuckin’ died.”

“Almost is important in that sentence.”

He says nothing. Cupping your fingers closer as he tightens the hold, almost wanting to feel your pulse through your fingers—even if he can feel your breath dancing over his mask.

“You know what I’d like?”

He grunts, feeling you snort at the sound of it. “Here w’fuckin’ go.”

You nudge him. Barely a poke, barely a sharp pinch. But he smiles. In his half-smile-way, he feels himself do when he's with you.

Something which is usually hidden by his mask. Now on full display.

“When my lips are better… I’d like you to kiss me.”

He flips his eyes open, not daring to move, unsure if you can hear how his heart thunders or whether it’s in his head.

“Yeah?” he says.

You nod. Brief and direct—just like a well-taught fucking soldier.

He lets your head find that spot again, the crease of his shoulder as you take a deeper breath. Knowing, on the surface, he’s not felt the way he does about someone that isn’t you, keeping hold of your hand, sliding his thumb over your skin.

Your soft skin.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #ghost cod x reader #ghost angst #ghost x you #ghost riley #ghost call of duty

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thorsenmark · 18 days

Video

flickr

Aspens and Evergreens on a Mountainside in Colorado by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While at a roadside pullout along US Route 550 (San Juan Skyway Scenic and Historic Byway) with a few looking up a mountainside to aspens and evergreens. What drew me into this setting was the aspen leaves shimmering in the passing breeze, while caught in the light of the afternoon sun. The rest of the image was just aligning myself to capture a view looking up mountainside, while minimizing any lens artifacts from the sun above. I did some initial post-processing work making adjustments to contrast, brightness and saturation while playing around as I learned how to work with DxO PhotoLab 7. I then exported a TIFF image to Nik Color Efex Pro 4 where I added a Polarization, Foliage, and Pro Contrast filter for that last effect on the image captured.

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genderfluid-insomniac · 6 months

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Primal Urges/// Sun Wukong x Reader x Macaque NSFW

tags/kinks: predator vs prey, primal play, voice kink, overstimulation, power play, light restraints, oral sex, rough sex, bondage, marking, obedience training, double penetration, squirting, dirty talk, aftercare, possessiveness, possession, consensual sex, blow job, multiple orgasms, praise kink, choking

“What do you mean I’ve gotten too used to being safe?! Isn’t that a good thing?” You stared at your lovers with an incredulous expression and they gave you a look that said you weren’t getting out of this, internally thanking the weather for being nice. Wukong nodded and waved his hands in a so-so manner. “Yeah, it is great you feel safe but you won’t always have us to save you, sunshine. What would you do if you got into a fight with a powerful demon like Spider Queen and her lackeys or our brother Peng?-“ The shadow demon sitting on Sun’s shoulders interrupted with a laugh while he continued to groom his mate’s tangled hair and rolled his gold eyes to spare a glance at you.

“That poor excuse of a warrior is coward but he is good in combat when it comes down to a fight. I’ll give him that.” Now shifting his attention completely to you, “Peaches is right though, you need to learn more than basic defense.” You knew some pretty good self-defense techniques from a class you took and with the help of the shadow peach duo and their knowledge of weapons plus combat experience. They weren’t wrong but it still hurt to hear that even if it was the truth. But something told you this wasn’t going to be normal training, the way both of their eyes lit up with anticipation and poofy tails swayed dangerously from side to side.

Sighing tiredly, you leaned against the rocky mountainside and nodded your head. “Fine, but what type of training is it this time.” The ginger looked up at the midnight-colored monkey and seemingly made silent communication with each other before turning back to you, grinning wildly at the fantasies going through their own minds and lowly chuckling. The king spoke up attempting to hide his eagerness, “We’re going to be playing a game of chase. You, sunshine, are going to try to escape from us and we’re going to be chasing after you.”

……Yeah, this definitely wasn’t a double entendre or anything, but being able to outrun your opponent helps you get more time for strategizing an attack or finding help, and your endurance could use some work. However, being that your goal was to evade some of the most powerful beings you knew, how did they think you stood a chance against them? “How is this fair? You both are-” Macaque interrupted and sat up straight, “Crazy powerful? There’s a catch for us too, lotus.” Leaning back off the king’s shoulders and letting gravity pull him towards the earth, causing panic to instinctively shoot through your veins.

He unknowingly (to you at least) appeared behind you via shadow portal and got close to your ear, whispering the rest of his sentence against the flushed shell of your ear and noticing you shiver and jump at the close proximity. “We can use any of our abilities. Means Wukong will not be allowed to use any of his powers including flying and I along with the same rule will dampen my hearing to about normal range for demons using this talisman.” You were speechless at first at the opportunity and although it was clear to the three of you that something else was at play you couldn’t pass this up, staring at the strip of inked paper held between his clawed fingers and nodding with a sure grin.

“I’m game, moonlight. How could I pass up this chance when something tells me it’s going to be worth it?” Wukong flicked his tail back and forth, rolling on the balls of his feet before getting closer to you wrapping his arms around your waist. The smile on your face was infectious as it spread to your boyfriend, he closed the distance between you both and cuddled against your chest.

It was evident that even though he was still sleepy he had energy to burn with the way his ears twitched and tail rapidly flicked back and forth. Wukong breathed in your scent and blissfully dug his claws into your cotton shirt, his voice deep and still new from the morning. “It’ll be worth it. If you manage to evade even one of us then you’ll be rewarded but if one of us catches you then we get rewarded.”

“Why do you both get rewarded for tackling me when it’s training for me?” Partially laughing at the usual absurdity that came with courting these two and leaning your head against Macaque's shoulder behind you. “Because your beloved mates get so tired from chasing you around isn’t only right you tend to us?” Glad to know he was still dramatic.

“Just the other day we spent hours in the hot springs while I groomed your fur until it was pristine which I loved because you let me sleep when you carried me out. I’ve been with you two for the past week and I have no issues with it but you both get enough coddling from me.” You rolled your eyes, enjoying the warmth they both provided before a question popped into your head.

“Where are we going to do this though? On the mountain?” The king picked you up bridal style and carried you while you all got to the destination, walked through a nearby forest path, and chirped at some nearby monkeys who were eating their breakfast. Eventually, you were both led to a clearing where a new structure stood, very clearly planted recently evident by the fresh dirt or magically grown seeing as this wasn’t here as far as you knew yesterday. “Nevermind…”

This answered your question as you “walked” toward the tall bush maze and first noticed how you could barely see through the hedges, no matter how hard you looked or how close you got it was like trying to look through solid concrete. You hopped out of Wukong’s arms and brushed your hands against the tiny pointed leaves then turned to them, wondering how this was done. “How-” “I called in a favor.”

Who in the world owes your boyfriend a favor….best not to worry about it for now. Pushing your arms above your head you started to stretch, moving from your arms and core to your legs and calves. The reaction you got to warming up your hamstrings was not so shocking as you were standing up and folding yourself forward to hug your legs. “Yeah! Keep that stretch for a minute or two, looks good from here-” Meaning your ass was unintentionally facing them.

You grabbed two small stones and flicked them at both demons, knowing that although only Sun made the comment Macaque was definitely thinking the same if not worse seeing as he was quiet right now. “Ow! What’d you hit me for I didn’t do anything.” You huffed and slowly stood back up. “I know you were thinking the same Macaque!” From behind you, you heard the monkey mutter about how you still have good aim at least.

Soon enough you were drawing a line the sand that was the starting line and put your foot on it focusing on your breath control. In order to keep a good headway you needed to get into the right mindset and that meant ignoring all the possible things both men would attempt to make you screw up. “OK ok. I got this. Use the hug left or right method.” The wind cooling down your skin being warmed by the sun and the chirping of nearby critters who wouldn’t cause any problems, the still and tall leafy walls in front of you seemed more intimidating now that you were facing off with it.

Wukong whistled to catch your attention and gave you a thumbs up, lining himself and Macaque up behind you holding a phone timer. “We’re gonna give you a 10-second head start and then go after you. That sounds good, Name?” You nodded and prepared to count down mentally.

All of your thoughts buzzed around in your head, anxious to get started and burn off the energy bouncing around in you. “Start!” Hearing that one word triggered you to start sprinting immediately hugging the right wall, your hand outstretched so you could feel the hedge as you kept track of where you were.

Four ways. Right turn. Long sprint. “Just keep doing this. Focus.” A familiar deep laugh echoed from the shadows in the next right turn you were about to take and forced you to stop on your heels. Popping off in the other direction on instinct with the adrenaline fueling your legs to run faster and attempt to ignore the smooth voice luring you onto a wrong path.

“Fuck. Why does his voice have to be so hot?!” You harshly whispered and groaned as quietly as you could, continuing to run until you heard footsteps in the path next to you and leading to the opening coming up on your right. “Sweetheart, had I known you loved my voice so much I would’ve teased you till my voice went hoarse but something tells me you’ll be the one losing your voice when I get my hands on you.” Your heart rate skyrocketed and you cursed yourself.

Why did that bastard have to have six ears and an incredible sense of hearing?! “It’s hard for me to focus when such a sweet fragile mortal is ripe for the taking. Am I right, bud?” Macaque. Wait- Bud? Had Sun already caught up to you?!

You whipped your head behind you before shifting your momentum to push the next right turn, hopefully putting yourself back on track. There was no one right behind you and nothing you could hear yet unless he was purposely being silent to sneak up on you. Think, what would he do in this situation? Besides transforming into another animal and he would attack from a blind spot! Your next action was immediate as you flipped backward so your back was to the hedge and took off in a sprint like your life depended on it.

“You’re right, moonshine. They look delightful and they’re clever too, predicting our next actions.” In the corner of your eye, you locked gazes with his red sclera and gold eyes for a split second before you turned around. Guessing he dropped his glamour for a moment to try to scare you and not did it not work, it had the opposite effect of slightly arousing you in addition to the thrill of being chased by two predators but your lovers. The thought of your reward, if you succeeded, didn’t leave your mind.

The exit was just ahead you could feel it and the pair were gaining on you, another right turn and you’d be done. “Almost there-” You jumped just before the exit and your heart soared at the fastly approaching accomplishment. “Aw, you almost had it, sweetheart.” Two bodies slammed into you, one of them shielding your body from getting bruises on the ground and the other on top of you effectively trapping you in a sandwich. Fuck.

Macaque, who was the one beneath you, cooed at your attempt and wrapped his arms around your waist. “And you were so close too. Too bad but this means we get our reward.” Tightening his grasp on you as Wukong took your hands and pinned them to the grass below you. He got close to your ear and whispered, the beat of your heart practically could be heard from outside your body. “Okay, what do you two want?”

Your lovers looked back and forth between themselves before slipping their hands under your clothes and squeezing your flushed sweaty skin. “To fuck you raw.” A chill was sent down your spine as you looked up to see borderline predatory eyes staring you up and down like a meal. Their tails flicked around eagerly awaiting your answer and you felt feel Macaque place kisses up the side of your neck, his dick slowly becoming hard against your lower back.

“O-Okay.” A part of you wasn’t shocked but another part of you was still catching up from the adrenaline intoxicating your body. The shadow demon spoke up from beneath you, rubbing comforting circles on your waist. “You don’t have to lotus. We can do this another time.” Neither of them wanted to pressure you into a situation you didn’t want but clearly, you were game if the slow roll of your hips against both of their groins had anything to say.

“Mhmm- Alright, sunshine. If that’s how you wanna play, bring it. Remember our safeword?” You nodded and whispered it to them, squirming at both erections pressing against you but not hard enough to give you pleasure. Soft moans filled the air and you tried your best to grind against either of them to no avail as Macaque kept your hips still in a steel grip. “Moonlight, please. Let me move, I’ll do anything.”

Perhaps bargaining would have worked had they not worked their primal urges up by chasing you but they already knew this would be the end result from the start. Wukong kept your wrist tight held in one hand while the other palmed your clothed pussy, teasing it with pinches and his claws using their sharpness to graze your clit.

Determined to draw moan after moan from you till you indeed lost your voice. Macaque spoke directly in your ear, his hot breath ghosting the shell of your ear. “I want you to beg about how you want us to fuck you and how you’ll cum to my voice. You’re our slut after all.” Your arousal grew more at his degrading and true words, your lover's deep raspy voice caused your pussy to throb and your hips to involuntarily spasm. The clothes on your body needed to come off and you’d do anything to do get an orgasm from them or any touch down there.

“Macaque Sun, ugh~ I want you to fuck me,” His hand slipped up to your nipples and pinched them, “How?” Another lewd moan left your lips and your head arched back. “I want you to fuck me with your cocks. I need them in me and I want them to fuck me until I can’t walk. Ahh~” You strained your hands against Wukong’s grip, “I’m going to cum to your voice. I love your voice, love. It's deep, rich, and calming.” The shadow rolled your nipple in his hands and moved his hand to grip your ass.

He knew how you loved to relax to it and when he hummed or let an occasional moan slip during sex. It wasn’t the first time he’d been told this but hearing over and over again from the people he craved the most was music to his ears. “Good, good. Such a good slutty mate. What do you think, Sun?”

His partner hadn’t stopped rubbing circles on your clit and was desperately holding himself back from ripping off your clothes and fucking you raw. The king’s tail whipped behind him before curling around your upper thigh and letting out a low growl. “I think they deserved an orgasm.” You heard a rip as Wukong cut open a slit in your leggings and felt his finger harshly press against your clit. Both of them ground their cocks against your legs, frantic to get a release from their building arousal.

In seconds all the pleasure wound up in your wet cunt is released and you orgasm on Sun’s fingers. A loud moan leaked from your throat and warm juices dribbled onto his fingers. “Such a good whore for their kings.” The strength had been zapped from your body and yet you still yearned for more, pleas for yet another orgasm hit their ears. Macaque didn’t stop playing with your chest when he stopped kissing and biting your neck to glance up at Wukong.

“Hm, so greedy.” He clicked his tongue and pinched your sensitive nipple. “I think you should give us our reward if you want to cum again. Peaches?” You lifted your lidded eyes and focused on your boyfriend above you who had a smug teasing grin. “I agree. Since moonshine and I won our little game of chase you’re going to obey every order we give you. Understand?”

The same clawed hand that had played with your clit trailed up through your breast and lifted your chin so you were eye to eye with Sun. Lust clouded his eyes and there was no doubt it could be seen in yours, swallowing the thrill in the back of your throat. “Yes-” Wukong interrupted her and gripped your chin. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, my kings.” You saw his smile widen and felt yourself be lifted up with Macaque’s help, stumbling back into his chest and nodding when he whispered if you were alright. After confirmation, he voiced a command. “Strip. First yourself and then us.” This would’ve been simple since you’d done it before but your muscles ached and standing was difficult but you were high on pleasure to care.

So you slowly took off all your workout clothes and tossed them to the side, figuring that taking off all of Wukong’s clothing would take a while, and carefully moved towards him. Nearly falling when your knees decided it was good to collapse, you were caught by the monkey in front of you and he laughed softly. “Careful, sunshine. I’d love to see you on your knees but not right now.” He pressed a quick but sweet kiss to your lips as you untied his cape and lifted his heavy chest-plate armor off him which landed with a loud thud.

Then he moved to his vibrant red sash on his waist which also held up the fabric draped over his pants so that it was easy to pull off his long gold shirt, shoes, and pants till he was just left with his boxers. “I think I prefer you nude than all dressed up, my king.” You purred out and tantalizingly slowly pulled them down, testing to see if he’d break and noticing his hands form into firsts. His pretty pink cock stood hard and angry, leaking buds of precum.

Your mouth watered and you felt someone creep out of your shadow, unable to hold himself back any longer as he stroked himself through his pants seeing you strip down his boyfriend till he was naked. “Now it’s my turn, lotus.” You turned around and followed the same steps with his worn-out cape and halved kimono top which kept his hip guards up. However like before you got nice and close, leaving inches both of your lips feigning a kiss until you pulled his black long-sleeved shirt over his head.

Laughing at the annoyed groan he made and pulled his pants down along with his boxers. “Where’d you learn these tricks, Name?” His smirk crept into his voice and hands circled your waist, finally getting the kiss you withheld from him and pulling you closer. “I just learned it from someone who thinks they’re so suave.” You felt his erect cock slap against your dripping pussy and moaned at the sensation, going to plead for more when you were pushed onto your knees.

“You’re going to suck and worship my cock like the king I am, sunshine. It’s my reward after all, right?” Wukong walked from behind you next to Macaque and tilted your head up, the tip of his dick rested on your lips and prodded your mouth. Without needing an order, you opened your mouth and started giving kitten licks to the tip while your hands pumped the rest of his shaft. “Mhm~ Yeah Ngn~ That’s it. Just like that.” The stone monkey tilted his head back and gripped the back of your neck as you took his mushroom-like head into your mouth.

You didn’t notice the dark-haired monkey dip into a shadow and reappear beneath you, his arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling your attention away from the blow job you were just starting to give. “Don’t mind me, sweetheart. I’ll just be redeeming my reward down here~” Sun’s hand on the back of your head guided your head up and down the length of his cock and you felt your nose touch his pubic bone, moaning loudly when Macaque took an experimental lick up the strip of your pussy.

He snickered at your resulting reaction which also sent pleasure through his boyfriend's dick as you let out lewd noises while you sucked his cock like a popsicle and anchored himself against your dripping cunt. Mumbles of how good you tasted and why you and your pussy belonged to him couldn’t but catch your attention, especially when you glanced down and your slick mixed with his saliva covered his mouth.

Pearly fang marked your upper thighs with hickeys and bruises to tell others you were taken by the Sixed-Eared Macaque and The Great Sage Equal to Heaven. You felt his tongue start curiously exploring what caused you to moan louder and targeted those areas, learning very quickly how to make you cum from just his tongue. “Mhmmm~ Ma- Mm” Momentarily you forgot that your mouth was full and gagged at Sun’s cock touching the back of your throat.

“Breathe through your- ngh~ nose, sunshine” Your lover managed to spit out as he staggered his breathing and gripped your hair tightly. Doing as suggested, you focused on breathing through your nose and feeling his hand intertwined with yours, giving it a squeeze and doing the same back to signal that you were alright. Macaque was still sucking on your pussy like he hadn’t had a drink in days eager to get more reactions out of you and got a chorus of moans as he hit a spot that made you see stars.

Sun’s cock was brushed by your tongue and dipped in and out of your mouth, saliva and precum cover your mouth as you messily hold back a gag reflex and whined when he thrusts into your face. Unable to hold back any longer and cupping your jaw, he apologized rapidly for being rough and getting louder and louder. “Yes- ngh~ please!! Please! I’m gonna cum!”

You rubbed circles on his hips and arched your back when the demon below you pinched your clit and sucked harshly which snapped the rising orgasm coiling in your core. “Mhm, there you are a princess! Give it all to me!” The pleasure crashing over you like a wave and crying out in euphoria. The pulses of your voice vibrating his dick and triggering his orgasm in tandem, Sun’s voice becoming high pitched and whining like a bitch in heat.

“Fuck- ‘m cumming-” Bitter warm liquid shot down your throat and coated your tongue, his penis still jolting in your warm mouth and riding out his orgasm. Sun comforting steadied his breathing and loosened his grip on your face, whispering praises and apologies for being rough. “I’m sorry if I was too rough, sunshine. Such a good mate for us…our lovely Name.”

Your other lover however wasn’t done and kept going. Determined to eat you out like it was his last meal, the shadow demon was addicted to your taste and could feed off you for days without stopping. “’m not done. I’m going to make sure that you’re unable to walk for days.” You swallowed and leaned against your king who gladly caught you.

“My kings, be gentle- mhm,” Both responded by softly kissing your neck and licking the bitemarks made all along your body. “I want you both in me! I feel empty.” Macaque chuckled and murmured something about finally being able to fulfill his promise to you. They stroked their cocks to get hard again which didn’t take long given your arousal sexual state in front of them panting and whining from overstimulation.

Slowly both demons rubbed the tips of their dicks against your sopping cunt and pushed into your hole, Wukong sweetly rubbed your labia when you hissed from the stretch. Breathing deeply and giving the okay when the pain faded, both lovers sandwiched you between them and started moving at a rhythmic pace. “Ah- fuck- So tight!”

You had already cum twice and the overstimulation was attacking your nerves like lightning. Both pain and pleasure courses through you’re body

“Hey moonlight, looks like our little slut has been fucked dumb.” Sun leaned close to your ear, giving you a show with a raspy growl and biting the skin of your collar bones harder than before. “Who do- ugh- you belong to?” Pinching the skin between his fangs His free hand trailed down to play with your chest. Macaque wrapped his hand around your neck and gripped it tight, kneeling so he could thrust into your abused cunt.

Their speed was inhuman, Sun matched it and you couldn’t speak, only letting out moans and whimpers. Feeling the wall you’d come so close to starting to crumble and barely spitting out a response when he bit harder as a warning to answer the question. “You. I’m yours!” No one would ever get close to giving as much pleasure and pure joy as they did, knowing your body like the back of their hands and safely pushing to your breaking point. “Say our names!- mhg”

Their real names, the ones only you had the privilege of screaming out in complete lust and drunk on their cocks. “I belong to Liu ‘Er Mihou and S-sun Wukong! Ahh~ I yours and only yours.” Your lovers look at you broken and sex-crazed, smirking at the flutter of your eyes as they speed up slowly racing towards their highs as well. Beautiful scars littered Macaque's chest and sweat dripped down to his toned stomach, dark fur was wet and tangled knots were visible as you looked closer.

Wukong appearance was just a disheveled, peach-colored fur no longer resembling a heart on his bare chest and red sclera contrasting his stunning gold irises. “Yes you -ah fucking are!” He pinched and groped your tits as Macaque viciously pounded into you like a bitch in heat, loud unapologetic moans and cries came from your mouth as you orgasmed. “Cumming!” Your walls sucked both of their dicks hard and contracted around their tips, devilishly begging for their cum.

“‘m cumming too-“ “Same here, peaches~” Your demons fucked you as they worked you all through your orgasms, feeling warm liquid fill your insides and slick squirting onto you and Macaque’s pelvis. Fuck you squirted. No one had been able to do that before…..it wasn’t a myth?! Harsh breathing was all you could hear for a couple of minutes, all of you shifted back to stable states and bathed in your after-sex glow.

Your pussy twitched at everything that brushed it and sent pangs of pain to your brain, pleading for a break and thankful it was often. Slowly, both of them pulled out, their breath hitching and biting their lips. “My mates. All mine.” Of course, Wukong recovered faster than others and immediately took to cuddling you all up, lifting you both gently onto his soft somersault cloud forgetting your clothes entirely.

“We all need a-“ You interrupted the shadow demon and kissed his cheek with a kind smile, “A bath? Yes, we do. That’s why I’m guessing, Peaches is bringing us to the hot springs or at least somewhere in that direction…you guys almost broke me.” You fell back against them both, hearing them chuckle and grabbing hands comfortably. He looked to where Sun was leading them and saw a familiar hot spring with homemade privacy screens surrounded by blooming willow trees.

“Just rest, sunshine. You did great at the training and nearly escaped us on the first try, that’s great! Maybe next time let’s not get carried away with the rewards” The king sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and elbowed his boyfriend, who looked offended at the comment like he hadn’t been as sex hungry. You could barely hear the cocky “No promises.” from Macaque as you were carried into the hot spring, the warm water soothing all the marks and sore muscles you had.

“You can sleep, lotus. We’ll take care of you.” Hearing that, you stopped fighting sleep and let it pull you into the depths of your unconscious. “Rest up, sunshine. We love you.”

#lmk x reader #lmk macaque #lmk macaque x reader #lmk sun wukong #lmk sun wukong x reader #sun wukong x reader #lego monkie king #monkie kid macaque #lego monkie kid x reader

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sprout-fics · 6 months

Note

(I have to bc of the ovulation joke) a drabble for Red being preggy with a werewolf baby?

Of course! Please have some very tender pregnancy fluff (ft. Laswell)

-----

“Ah-ah, no.”

König flinches away from the wooden spoon that raps his knuckles in a swift swat, drawing his hand back with mild offense to cradle it. Laswell levies a stern stare at him despite his woeful eyes, and you hide a snicker behind your palm at her reprimanding gaze.

“These are for your wife.” She reminds him, gesturing with said spoon. “Are you begged me to make them for her. Shame on you.”

König splutters at that, trying to find a reason to touch the still cooling sweets atop Laswell’s fireplace. He comes up empty handed instead, offers a small apology of “Entschuldigung.” instead.

Laswell looks unimpressed. “You can have one after your wife has.”

“Mate.” He grumbles in correction, and ducks his head as her eyes narrow.

You watch the scene from your chair, where a thick blanket is draped across your form and your growing belly. A hand smooths over it, feeling for a kick that is a sure sign of the life growing inside you.

It had been an easy decision to come to Laswell’s following the beginnings of your pregnancy. It had been smooth at the beginning, small bouts of morning sickness, a voracious hunger that spoke of a need to eat for two, but otherwise it had been fine.

If anything, it had spawned a strange new instinct in König- the desire to provide, to prove himself worthy of fatherhood. More than once he had been gone for days at a time to bring back something worthy of your approval in the form of game, goods from a nearby village stolen under the cover of night, beautiful flowers plucked from the mountainside. Each time he’d push his snout into your hands, request your approval, a reminder that he had proven himself to you.

König has been nothing but supportive throughout. Dropping what he was doing to massage the ache in your back, rub at your swelling feet, hold you through random bouts of hormonal tears. Even when you had once snapped at him, he’d merely taken you into his arms and offered a soft apology that forced your annoyance to quickly fade to regret.

He’d become increasingly clingy as well, insisting on you sleeping with your back to his front, holding you as you busied your hands, pressing soft kisses into your shoulders as his hands roamed across your stomach.

“My mate.” He crooned, oddly pleased with himself, hand flat against your belly. “Our pup.”

Yet as the weeks progressed, it became increasingly clear you and König could not handle your pregnancy alone. The symptoms of your pregnancy had worsened, and you had confessed to him your fear of trying to endure childbirth without guidance. Reluctant though you were to leave the den you called home, it had become increasingly necessary to seek out aid. Laswell had been the natural solution, and for several months you’d both stayed in her cottage so she could assist with the progression of your pregnancy.

Of course, it had also taken time for her to become adjusted to the once monster that had terrorized your village. It required many assurances on your part, and a fair amount of appeasement on König's part as well. He’d committed himself to the chores she set out for him, busied himself with chopping wood, hunting, tending her animals, and even repairing the stables kept for her visiting friends. Eventually she had eased to the presence of the werewolf, but still retained a certain air of predominance over her home.

Such as right now.

You watch as König rubs his neck sheepishly, and turns away from the plate of sweets to come kneel by your feet, resting his cheek on your stomach with a sigh.

“Madame Laswell is cruel.” He laments, and you chuckle, pet at his hair until he hums a low note of pleasure.

“I tried to warn you.” You remind him, and he huffs, shuffles so he’s further pressed to your lap. “She’s just protective.”

König makes a small noise of agreement, craning his head to prop it up and look at you with dopey, warm eyes.

“My beautiful mate.” He coos as you stroke his face. “So warm and happy and taken care of.”

“Thanks to you, beloved.” You remind him, and his smile spreads happily across his face, eyes alighting with pride.

“Our pup will be here soon.” He comments with a contented little sigh. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“I know, darling.” You return softly, glancing up at the other side of the cabin to see Laswell regarding you both warmly out of the corner of her eye.

König rests there at your feet, perfectly happy to rest his head in your lap with tender affection. A love so fierce it cracks at your ribs fills you, and your face falls open with tender bliss at the touch and adoration of the man you have chosen, who continues to prove himself to you with each passing day, who will soon become the father of your child.

The air is knocked from you, however, when suddenly the life inside you suddenly shifts with vibrant attention. König's head shoots up immediately as the kick grazes his cheek, and his eyes dart from your own surprised gaze to your belly and back again. As if to prove a point, the little one inside you kicks again, and you make a little noise of discomfort.

“Hush, little one.” König soothes with a wry little smile, smoothing his hand over your belly. “Let your mother rest.”

You chuckle, and gaze longingly at the cooling sweets atop the fireplace. “I think perhaps our pup is hungry.” You provide in a thinly veiled excuse, and König returns your smile.

When you both look over at Laswell, she fails to look unimpressed, and hides it behind a roll of her eyes.

“Fine.” She declares. “But. Ladies first.”

“She hates me.” König murmurs in feigned oppression, and when you laugh the child inside you kicks again.

#konig x reader #könig x reader #fic: rotes madchen #werewolf König #konig x you #konig x f! reader

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hamsterclaw · 7 months

Text

Fugitive

You're kidnapped by a desperate man and you can't see a way that this is going to end well, for either of you.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Word count: 10k

Genre: Escaped criminal, convict Yoongi

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing, mentions of a gun, threat of gun violence

Author note: This story is based on the romance novel Perfect by Judith McNaught. I've taken a few liberties with the plot and characters.

The coffee at this mountainside diner is good, warming your belly as you frown at the snow outside.

All the weather reports say there’s a storm coming from the east, but it doesn’t take a trooper to know that.

Even a city girl like you can see how the sky’s darkening, how the wind’s relentless, how the temperature is rapidly dropping.

You’ve got snow tires on, four wheel drive, emergency supplies in your trunk, but you think you won’t need them, you’re heading west and you’ve made good time on your way to visit your sister and her newborn.

Like your dad used to say, your family’s full of grit.

You swallow your smile when you see the man standing just outside the diner looking straight at you.

Did he think you were smiling at him?

You look down hastily.

The waitress comes round with the check you signalled for, you put money on the little acrylic tray and get ready to go.

By the time you step outside, the wind’s picked up even more, snow swirling, making your eyes want to screw shut under your beanie.

You don’t hear him until he’s almost on top of you.

He’s not a lot taller than you, and he’s not particularly dressed for the weather, in denim on denim, a parka. No hat or gloves.

His hair is dark, as are his eyes, and his skin is pale, like he doesn’t get a lot of sun.

He looks vaguely familiar but you can’t really place him.

‘You have a flat,’ he says, pointing to one of your front tyres.

You look down in dismay only to see that he’s right.

Shit!

‘I can help you change it, if you’ve got a spare,’ he offers.

‘Would you?’ you ask, grateful.

‘Yeah, not a problem.’

You show him where the spare and tools are, and as he crouches by the tyre, you’re very aware of how, unlike you, he doesn’t have gloves on.

You feel a surge of guilt.

‘Hey,’ you offer, ‘whilst you’re doing that, can I get you a hot drink or something?’

He looks up at you, hands braced on the flat.

‘I wouldn’t mind a coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.’

‘Of course,’ you say, relieved that he’s not too polite to take you up on your offer. ‘I’ll be right back.’

You hurry back into the diner to get him a coffee. As you wait you wonder if he might want a sandwich too, and impulsively, you order him a hot sandwich.

He can always say no if he doesn’t want it, you reason.

By the time you come out, he’s putting the flat in your trunk, tidying up the tools he used.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him, passing him the drink.

‘No problem,’ he says.

A little awkwardly, you hold out the wrapped sandwich. ‘I got you a sandwich too, if you want it. It’s turkey.’

He accepts with another murmured ‘thank you.’

You’re wondering if you should offer him money for his kindness when he says, hesitant, ‘I could use a lift, if you’re heading west. I’ve got a job interview I’m hoping to make it to.’

Now you’re the hesitant one. He’s shown you nothing but kindness, but he is still a total stranger.

He waits without looking at you, sipping his coffee, keeping his distance.

You think about his lack of warm clothes, and as you’re looking at him, you notice the crispness of the creases in his clothing, remnants of how they must have been folded when he bought them.

You think about his calloused palms and how he accepted the sandwich without hesitation.

‘Hey, it’s ok,’ he starts to say, and it’s that, more than anything else, that spurs you on to reply.

‘It’s fine,’ you say. ‘I’ll take you as far as I’m heading.’

***

He gets into the passenger seat, and from the sigh that passes his lips you realise that he really was as cold as you thought he might be.

You start the engine, and warm air starts to blow through your A/C vents.

You check that the GPS is still set and glance over at him.

‘You ready?’

You’re a mile or so out of the diner, listening to the radio, when it occurs to you to ask him his name.

‘I’m Y/N,’ you say.

‘Yoongi,’ comes the reply.

In here, away from the whistling wind, you can hear the gravel in his voice.

‘What job are you going for?’ you ask.

‘Just some construction job my friend’s lined up for me near Maisan,’ Yoongi says.

He glances in the rearview mirror.

‘I hope you get it,’ you tell him. ‘Do you live around there?’

He seems to hesitate.

‘I don’t mean to pry,’ you say, quickly.

To bridge the sudden silence, you say, ‘I’m going to see my sister and her new baby. She chose a good time to have him, right before a storm.’

You notice movement up ahead, a police roadblock.

Beside you, your new acquaintance sits up.

‘Nice and easy,’ he says, and you look at him, confused, until you notice that he has a gun in his hand.

Pointed right at you.

You straighten up so quickly your neck cracks.

‘What —-‘

‘Nice and easy,’ Yoongi says again, a hardness to his voice you haven’t heard up until now.

‘There are six shots in this gun, but I’ll only need one to hurt you,’ he continues.

Your hands tighten on the wheel, and your lips clamp together, trying to stifle the squeak of terror that threatens to slip out.

‘I just want you to know that I will hurt you if you try anything,’ Yoongi says. There’s a seriousness in his voice that makes your blood chill. ‘So nice and easy, get us past this roadblock.’

You’ve slowed automatically as you approach the uniformed policemen, your years of driving making your body do the expected things despite the way your head is reeling.

Yoongi has a gun, and he seems perfectly capable of using it on you.

The fear crystallises into a single sob before your throat closes completely. Your breathing quickens but you know you’ll need to look normal, unsuspicious, to get you and Yoongi past the police.

‘Are they looking for you?’ you ask. Your voice is shuddery, you’re trembling so hard.

In response, Yoongi jams the barrel of the gun against you, high up, against your ribs, so hard it’s like he’s impaled you.

‘Shut up and get us through this,’ he snarls.

Your lips snap together again, and you make a conscious effort to pull yourself together.

Just before you stop, Yoongi says, ‘If you try anything, I won’t just be trying to hurt you. I’ll kill you.’

His tone is low, and another shiver runs through you.

You roll down the window.

The police trooper leans in. ‘Where are you headed?’

‘We’re going to see my sister in Maisan,’ you say, grateful at least, that your voice is steady.

Beside you, Yoongi’s sitting perfectly still.

‘You’ve not picked a good time to go,’ says the trooper.

This time, it’s Yoongi who answers. ‘I did say we should wait, but my girlfriend’s been looking forward to seeing her new nephew.’

He shrugs, a picture of indulgent exasperation.

The trooper laughs along with Yoongi even as you try to make desperate eye contact with him.

‘Better carry on then, hopefully you’ll make it before the storm hits.’

Then he’s waving you off, and you have a split second of panic, a moment where you consider screaming, before Yoongi’s gun jabs into your ribs again.

Again, your body responds before you do, driving you away from your last chance to seek help.

***

Twenty miles out from the diner, Yoongi tosses your phone out of the window.

Forty miles out, he programs a different address into your GPS.

It’s another ten miles before you find your voice again.

‘You can take the car, you know, and leave me here. I can’t call anyone.’

Yoongi almost looks like he’s considering it.

‘I can’t leave you here out in the mountains in the middle of nowhere,’ he tells you. ‘You’ll die of exposure, especially if you can’t call for help.’

‘Also,’ he adds, almost as if it’s an afterthought, ‘you know the address of where we’re going.’

‘I didn’t see it,’ you say, too quickly.

Yoongi’s silent.

Finally, he says, ‘Just keep driving.’

‘Please,’ you plead. ‘Just let me go. I won’t tell the police where you’re heading.’

Yoongi’s grasp on the gun, still in his lap, tightens.

‘You’re a fucking idiot. Why the hell would you give a ride to a strange man you’ve just met?’

You don’t have a good answer to that.

‘You changed my tyre,’ you say. ‘I thought —‘

‘I slashed your tyre,’ he says, low, cold. ‘I was hanging around outside the diner, I saw you pull up, saw you were alone.’

His admission chills you.

Tears start to spill down your cheeks when you realise what a fool you were to trust him.

‘I just wanted to help you out,’ you tell him. ‘You seemed hungry and down on your luck, and you didn’t even have any warm c-c-clothes!’

You swipe at your cheeks furiously.

‘Didn’t have any warm clothes,’ Yoongi repeats, incredulous, scornful. ‘You’re some fucking good Samaritan.’

You’re crying quietly now, despairing over your naivety.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything for a good long while, and neither do you.

***

By the time you reach your destination, it’s snowing so hard you can barely see six feet in front of your car.

Snowy walls close in either side of you, buffeting you from the wind but heightening your sense of claustrophobia.

The clearing’s upon you before you quite realise it, and you end up stopping in front of a huge structure in the woods.

It’s more than a cabin, it looks like a proper house, from what you can make out, with a shed and a carport.

Yoongi reaches out and takes your car keys.

‘Wait until I come round to your side.’

He doesn’t point the gun at you, but you don’t need reminding.

He gets out, walks around to your side, pulls open the door, pushes you in front of him.

You try to take note of your surroundings, landmarks, but all you can see is snow.

Your boots clomp on the concrete as you approach the front door.

Behind you, you can hear Yoongi rustling, glancing at his phone before he punches numbers into the keypad discreetly placed by the door.

He cups a hand over the keypad, you don’t see a thing.

He pulls you in as he enters, and you’re initially just grateful to be out of the snow.

Yoongi says, ‘Take your coat off.’

He makes a move as if to do it for you when you don’t react quickly enough, and you snap into action, pulling the snaps apart, unzipping hastily.

He takes your coat, tosses it carelessly to one side, grasps your wrist, tight.

You flinch as he tightens a cable tie around your wrist and attaches you to the steel flap of a radiator by the entrance hall of the house.

‘I can’t trust you not to try to run,’ he tells you. ‘I won’t hurt you, but I can’t afford for you to interfere with my plans, not now.’

You’re barely listening at this point.

The terror of the last few hours has drained most of your energy.

Yoongi stands over you for a few moments, as if to make sure you aren’t going to bolt, and then he heads further into the house.

***

Time passes, you’re disorientated by the darkness brought on by the storm outside and your own sense of disjointedness.

It doesn’t seem like that long ago since you loaded your things into your trunk and set off from home, and yet, it seems like forever.

Gradually, you become aware of the hardwood floor under your salopes. The entry hall you’re being held captive in gives you the impression that this is a nice house.

Whoever had this built has money.

The ceilings are high, the wood panelling rich and beautifully rendered.

The radiator beside you has started heating up, the steel flaps burning you whenever you let your hand move too close.

Your snow boots have made puddles on the hardwood.

Where the hell are you? Who owns this place? Why did Yoongi have the code for the door?

If he has friends this rich willing to let him use their house why the hell did he need you to drive him?

Your mind swirling with thoughts you can’t reconcile, you pull your knees into your chest and tuck your chin in, wrapping your arms around yourself.

You fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

***

You wake to complete darkness and a searing pain in your hand where you’ve let it fall against the radiator.

It all comes back to you in a flash.

The diner. The state trooper. The house. Yoongi.

Your hand hurts, badly, but it’s too dark to see.

As you straighten your legs, your foot hits something that falls with a soft thud, then rolls.

A water bottle.

You’re suddenly aware of how dry your throat is.

You reach for the bottle, but maddeningly, it rolls out of your reach.

There are tears on your face but you’re not crying, not really.

Maybe you are.

***

When you next wake, the cold thin grey light filtering in through the windows tells you it’s morning, or early.

You look up to see your captor standing over you.

You look at each other wordlessly.

Yoongi crouches next to you.

‘Do you need the bathroom?’ he asks.

You nod.

He reaches down to detach you from the radiator.

Your hand.

You can see it clearly now, the blistered, reddened side of your palm, the thin line of blood where the cable tie’s cut into your wrist.

You say nothing. You don’t know if you can form any words.

You get up carefully, follow Yoongi down the hall to a small bathroom.

‘I’ll give you five minutes,’ Yoongi says.

You take care of business, trying not to sob at the pain in your burnt hand and wrist.

The window to the bathroom doesn’t open, and there’s nothing that you can use to break it.

There’s a knock at the door, you feel a surge of hysterical laughter threatening to come out.

He’s kidnapped you, locked you to a radiator, and he’s knocking because he cares about your privacy?

The door opens, and Yoongi comes in.

You stare at the scissors in his hand.

‘Your wrist,’ he says.

You watch, detached, as he cuts the cable tie. It falls to the floor, and you instinctively raise your hand to your chest to rub at your wrist.

Yoongi says. ‘I have food for you.’

He takes you down another hallway, to a huge kitchen full of windows. The early morning sun filters in, bright and blinding, adding more of a sense of unreality to the situation you now find yourself in.

Yoongi gestures to a seat at the kitchen island, sets a plate in front of you, like he’s made you breakfast.

You stare in disbelief at the food.

‘The car’s coming for me in two days, I’ll let you go then,’ Yoongi tells you, like you’re making plans together.

Like you’re just two people who know each other, discussing plans over breakfast, instead of captor and captive.

Now you’re staring at him.

‘You’ll let me go?’ you ask. Your voice comes out in a rasp, you have a vague recollection of trying to drink water but being unable to reach.

Yoongi winces a little, pours out a glass of water that you gulp down.

‘You should have told me you wanted water,’ he says.

‘You took my phone so I couldn’t text you,’ you say, the snark coming out of your mouth surprising you.

His brow lifts. ‘You don’t have my number anyway.’

‘Don’t need it,’ you snap, gulping down your refill. ‘We’re not going on a second date.’

Now it’s his turn to stare at you.

‘You’re not my type anyway,’ he snaps back. ‘Eat your food.’

For a moment you contemplate going on a hunger strike but you suspect he wouldn’t give a shit anyway so you examine your plate.

You fork up some eggs and chew cautiously.��

They’re good. Better than you expected. Your stomach growls as you eat.

The food’s doing wonders for your energy levels.

‘Why are you running from the police?’ you ask. ‘What did you do?’

‘I was convicted of murder,’ he tells you, cold.

‘Did you do it?’ you ask, unimpressed.

‘I didn’t, as a matter of fact,’ he replies, flat.

‘Wait. Were you in prison?’

‘I escaped,’ he tells you. ‘With a little help from my friends.’

You mull this over as you finish the last of your eggs.

‘You have friends?’

Yoongi gives you a look that makes your chest tighten a little.

‘Hard to believe, isn’t it?’ he agrees.

He takes your plate, gathers up your cutlery, turns his back to put them in the sink.

‘Don’t even think about throwing your glass at me,’ he says, back still to you.

Your hand stills on the counter.

You change the subject.

‘This is a nice house. Do your friends know they’re harbouring a fugitive from the law?’

‘My friends have nothing to do with anything,’ Yoongi tells you, giving you a hard look.

He sets out a bandage and some ointment on the kitchen island in front of you.

‘Your hand,’ he prompts impatiently, when you don’t make a move to take them.

You’re about to reach for them when he sighs, unscrews the top of the tube, drops a dollop on your burnt palm.

You stifle a hiss of pain as he rubs the ointment in.

‘I’m sorry,’ Yoongi says quietly.

He’s close to you now, so close you catch a whiff of the freshness of his shampoo.

‘You should be sorry,’ you say. ‘I thought you were just some guy who was down on his luck who needed a break, and next thing you’re waving a gun in my face and threatening to kill me.’

You can feel the tears threatening to rise again, but you blink them back.

Yoongi’s touch is gentle on your sore hand.

‘I am sorry. Believe me, if there were any other way I would have taken it. I promise, I’ll let you go. I have no intention of hurting you.’

He says the words with conviction but you know you can’t believe anything he says.

Trusting him is what got you into this in the first place.

You let him bandage your hand.

‘Which radiator next?’ you ask, resigned.

‘I won’t tie you up again, but I’ll have to keep an eye on you,’ Yoongi says, surprising you. ‘There’s a den we can sit in, if you want.’

You don’t see that you have any better options.

***

You start off in the furthest corner of the den from him, back to the wall, wary.

Yoongi ignores you completely as he turns on the TV, scrolls to the news.

You glance over the books on the bookshelf along one wall, but the TV catches your attention.

‘The search continues for Min Yoongi, the disgraced former rapper who was convicted of the murder of Han Jisung three years ago.’

Your gaze snaps to Yoongi, but he’s not looking at you, attention fully on the screen as an old media clip of him rapping plays.

‘The federal police are looking into several leads, and members of the public can contact the number onscreen if they have any information as to his whereabouts.’

The next story flashes up, and Yoongi sits back. You can see the tension leaving his body.

He catches the way you’re still gaping at him.

You blink, clear your throat.

‘So, you used to rap?’

Yoongi’s expression morphs into one of incredulity. ‘That’s your take-home from all that?’

You try again. ‘Too bad I don’t have my phone to call the number. Do you think there’s a reward?’

Yoongi stares at you.

‘I didn’t kill Han Jisung,’ he says.

He refuses to be drawn into any further discussion about it, and finally, you give up and pick up one of the books from the shelf.

***

Lunch is a sombre affair, sandwiches that you eat mechanically while looking at the grey outside.

The storm’s upon you, you doubt your snow tires would be up to the challenge even if you could get your car keys off Yoongi.

There’s no visibility at all, and if the wall of ice that’s forming around the glass of the floor to ceiling windows of the house wasn’t enough to deter you, the fact that you have no idea where your parka is certainly helps put you off.

You grew up in a mountainous area like this, and you’ve got a healthy respect for the weather conditions when it's like this.

You wonder how your sister’s doing, and your new nephew, if they’ve noticed you’re missing yet.

Maybe they think you’ve stopped to seek shelter and are waiting for the storm to pass before you continue on your journey.

You wonder if they’ve put your lack of communication down to a signal failure.

You wonder if anyone will notice you’re missing.

Your thoughts drift to Seokjin, the man you’ve recently had a few dates with.

He’s a good looking guy, outmatching you in looks if you’re being honest about what you think, but he seems to like the way you look, and to enjoy spending time with you.

You realise that Yoongi’s talking to you.

‘Are you all right?’ he asks, nodding to your half eaten sandwich.

‘I’m fine,’ you answer. You pull a face. ‘Well apart from being held captive against my will.’

Yoongi looks like he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

‘Were you really going to see your sister?’ he asks. ‘Will she notice you’re missing?’

You eye him narrowly. ‘I don’t think anyone’s sending out a search party for me just yet, if that’s what you’re asking.’

Yoongi says, unexpectedly, ‘Why not? You’re pretty, you’d catch attention on the front page of the newspapers.’

You say, incredulously, ‘I bet dozens of women go missing every single day.’

‘They probably do,’ Yoongi agrees.

‘How did you get put in prison if you didn’t kill that guy?’ you ask, changing the subject. ‘I’m sure you could afford a good legal team.’

Yoongi takes a while to answer.

‘I was fucking Han Jisung’s fiancee.’

You raise a sceptical brow at him. ‘And?’

‘I think his half-brother set me up.’

You mull this over.

‘So what’s the plan? You escape from prison and leave the country?’

Yoongi shrugs, but his gaze is hard.

‘I stay on the run until I get enough evidence for a re-trial. Prove my innocence.’

‘Seems a long shot,’ you say, but you have no desire to piss him off, at least not while he’s got a gun in his possession.

‘I have influential friends who are willing to help,’ Yoongi says, simply.

You say nothing.

‘Do you know what it’s like to be put away for life for something you didn’t do?’ Yoongi asks, suddenly. ‘I’ve lost three years of my life to this, there’s no chance of parole for another 7 years.’

His voice rings with anger and frustration.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say.

You have no idea if he’s telling you the truth, but you’re convinced of one thing. He believes it.

If he’s telling the truth, you can’t think of anything more awful.

‘Some say I brought this on myself,’ Yoongi says.

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t blame them. I was an asshole and a womaniser.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ you retort.

Yoongi looks at you, momentarily speechless with surprise.

Then he laughs.

‘Has no one ever taught you not to make fun of a man with a gun?’

You look at him seriously. ‘You promised you’d let me go in two days. Was that a lie?’

‘No,’ he answers. His eyes meet yours, gaze steady and unwavering. ‘I’ll keep my word.’

With him looking at you like this, you almost believe him.

***

Night’s falling, or so you think, it’s been dark all day but you get the sense that daylight’s fading fast.

Yoongi gets up, says, ‘Come on, I’m going to bed.’

‘You want a bedtime story?’ you ask, tetchy.

He just waits patiently by the entrance of the den for you to join him.

‘Any chance I could take a shower?’ you ask.

You’ve been in the same clothes for a day and a half, and you feel pretty grimy.

‘Sure,’ Yoongi says, surprising you. ‘Need clothes?’

Yoongi takes you to what looks like a pretty impressive master bedroom, with an equally luxurious looking bathroom.

He rummages in a drawer, hands you a set of grey sweats.

He says, the faintest note of embarrassment in his voice, ‘There’s no women’s clothes here.’

You accept the clothes with a murmured ‘thanks.’

Yoongi says, ‘the door doesn’t lock, but I won’t walk in on you. The window’s too high to jump from.’

You eye him.

‘I have no interest in walking through this snowstorm without a coat.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Unless you want to give me the car keys?’

Yoongi chooses not to answer, steps back so you can close the bathroom door.

You get undressed quickly, step under a shower of water so hot it feels like heaven after you’ve been cold most of the day.

There’s toiletries that you avail yourself of, and by the time you get redressed, you feel practically human again, burnt hand and sore wrist notwithstanding.

You wrap a towel around your hair, step out to see Yoongi sitting on an armchair by the bed.

His gaze flicks over you once, his expression unreadable.

‘I don’t want to tie you to another radiator,’ he says.

You wait to hear where he’s going with this.

‘I’m going to lock the bedroom door. You can share the bed with me, or there’s that couch.’

‘I’ll take the couch,’ you say.

You get onto the couch, pull a blanket over your head, and you must be more tired that you thought, because you’re thinking of everything Yoongi’s told you, and then you’re not thinking of anything at all.

***

You wake in complete darkness, quiet save for your own breathing.

As your eyes adjust, you realise that the lump near the window is Yoongi.

He’s looking out, facing away from you.

‘What time is it?’ you ask.

Yoongi inhales, keeps looking out.

‘Sometime after midnight,’ he says. ‘Does it matter?’

You sit up, curl your legs under you.

His profile is strangely lovely, the slope of his brow, the high bridge of his nose, his jaw.

‘What are you going to do if you manage to prove your innocence?’ you ask.

It’s a clumsy question, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind.

‘I’d like to live near a beach,’ he says. ‘Make music. Be away from people for a bit.’

You guess there’s not a whole lot of privacy in prison.

‘I have a beach hut,’ you say. ‘We used to spend summers at the seaside. When my parents died, my sister and I inherited it.’

‘Yeah?’ Yoongi asks, turning towards you.

‘Yeah. We swam a lot. Explored caves. Did some rockpooling.’

‘Sounds fun,’ Yoongi says. ‘When I was a kid I spent summers trying to earn money.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I did a lot of gigs, trying to get exposure. I had my own crew though.’ He sounds wistful. ‘We busted our asses.’

He laughs. ‘When I signed my first record deal I got a house so my crew would always have a roof over their heads.’

‘No diamond encrusted chains?’ you tease.

‘Baby, that was after I got my first platinum record,’ he shoots back.

You laugh, and after a moment, he does too.

‘You got a job?’

You look up at the ceiling.

‘I teach,’ you tell him. ‘Grade school. I’ve got a class of seven year olds.’

‘You do have that whole teacher vibe,’ Yoongi remarks.

You’re amused.

‘What whole teacher vibe?’

‘You know. Responsible, prepared for everything. I mean, I saw the supplies in your trunk.’

You can’t argue.

‘You’re too soft,’ Yoongi continues. He’s still turned towards you. ‘You shouldn’t have offered me a ride.’

‘Like I said,’ you reply. ‘You looked like you needed help.’

He scoffs. ‘If I were your man I’d teach you to make any man regret even thinking about messing with you.’

‘I don’t need a man to teach me that,’ you say.

Yoongi shrugs, a rustle of his sweatshirt.

‘All I’m saying is you should work on looking less sweet and harmless.’

You toss a couch cushion in his direction.

‘I’ll show you how to crush a trachea tomorrow if you want,’ Yoongi volunteers.

‘Can I practise on you?’ you mutter, disgruntled.

Yoongi just laughs.

He turns back to the window.

It’s too dark to tell if the snow’s still falling but it doesn’t make a difference to you, because soon enough, you’re asleep again.

***

Yoongi’s quiet today, prepping breakfast with a distracted concentration that makes you wonder what’s on his mind.

You’re fixing coffee, looking for filters.

You pull open a drawer and freeze.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see the way Yoongi’s back stiffens.

There’s a revolver in the drawer. The same gun Yoongi used on you that first day.

Yoongi turns around slowly, and your eyes lock.

He’s too far away to have any chance of getting to it before you.

Yoongi tilts his head.

‘It’s fully loaded,’ he says. ‘You cock the trigger to arm it. Point and shoot. It’s reliable. It doesn’t jam.’

You blink at him.

‘The car keys are in my pocket. The snow’s still a little crazy but if you wait a few hours it might settle. It’s safer to go tomorrow.’

Thoughts swirl in your head, too much for you to process.

Finally, you reach out, and close the drawer wordlessly.

‘You’ll let me go tomorrow?’ you ask, wondering if you’ve just made the most stupid decision of your life.

‘I’ll let you go tomorrow, I promise you. Even if my friend doesn’t come through.’

You can’t look at him.

You can hear him approaching, but instead of heading for the drawer, he heads for you.

‘Thank you,’ he says.

You look over.

His eyes are serious. ‘It’s been a while since anyone who didn’t know me before trusted me.’

‘Like you said, I’m dumb and soft,’ you reply. There’s a wobble in your voice that belies the snarky tone you were going for.

His hand lands on your shoulder. It’s gentle.

‘You’d be eaten alive where I come from,’ he agrees, when you look his way again. ‘But that’s never going to happen, if I have anything to do with it.’

He squeezes your shoulder, reassuring. ‘Forget the coffee. I’ll make it. Go and eat.’

***

The unfamiliar sound from overhead is making the wineglasses rattle.

You glance at Yoongi.

He’s quicker than you, mouth set in a straight line, heading for the window in the lounge.

‘What is it?’ you ask, but a moment later, you know.

It’s a chopper, flying directly overhead.

Yoongi turns to you.

‘If that’s the police, stay inside, hands up, away from the windows whilst I turn myself in.’

You’re staring at him, again feeling like you’re three steps behind.

‘It’s the way that it’s safest for you,’ he says, patient. ‘They’ll want you to come in for questioning once they take me in. Just tell the truth, don’t try to hide anything.’

Your throat feels like it’s filled with cotton, your heart’s pounding in your ears.

‘They won’t hurt you, will they?’

‘There are other ways to hurt a man than shooting him on sight,’ Yoongi replies. The bitterness is back in his voice again.

There’s a truth to his words you can’t deny.

Overhead, the noise intensifies, until finally, it starts fading away.

You don’t know if it’s just wishful thinking at first, but eventually it becomes clear that the chopper’s becoming more distant.

Yoongi hasn’t moved from his spot by the window.

‘They’re not here for you,’ you say, unnecessary, but the silence is so loaded you have to fill it with something, anything.

‘Not this time,’ Yoongi agrees.

***

Around mid-day, Yoongi switches on the news in the den.

You don’t have to wait long for an update.

‘The search for convicted murderer Min Yoongi intensifies. CCTV footage from a mountainside diner near east of Maisan suggests that he was aided in his journey by an unidentified female driving a 2004 Grand Cherokee Jeep.’

You watch, your heart in your stomach as grainy footage of Yoongi getting into your car is played.

The clip is less than 10 seconds, and your face is barely visible, but it’s definitely you.

The same information about how to get in touch with the police flashes up, but you’re beyond listening.

You get up shakily, rush to the bathroom, and throw up the partially digested remains of your breakfast.

By the time you emerge from the bathroom, Yoongi’s waiting outside.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks. He’s holding out a glass of water that you accept automatically.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You take a big gulp, swipe at your face. ‘Am I in trouble, Yoongi?’

‘You’ll have to make a statement when you get to your sister’s,’ Yoongi tells you. ‘Tell them I forced you at gunpoint.’

You think of the gun you had the opportunity to take this morning.

‘I offered you a ride voluntarily,’ you say.

‘I don’t give a fuck,’ Yoongi says, harshly. He steps forward. ‘And they won’t give a fuck, either. This won’t affect me, I’m already a convicted murderer. But it’ll affect you if they think you helped me.’

He slams his open hand against the wall next to him, startling you.

‘You need to wise up. I don’t care if you throw me under the bus, and it won’t make a difference to the charges against me. But this could affect your future, so you need to do whatever it takes to make sure you come away clean from this.’

What he’s saying makes sense, but he doesn’t know you.

‘I promised them,’ you burst out.

Yoongi stops dead. ‘What?’

‘I was adopted, when I was eight,’ you say. The words are coming out in a rush now, garbled, and you’re not sure if you can make him understand but you need to say it all.

‘I promised my adoptive parents I’d never lie again. I was some dumb kid when they adopted me, I’d been in and out of foster homes. I’d developed a thing for taking things I wanted.’

Stealing, your inner voice says, accurately.

‘And when my parents adopted me, I promised them I’d never lie again.’

Yoongi’s staring at you now, incredulous.

‘I’ll tell the police the truth,’ you tell him. ‘But I’m not going to ‘throw you under the bus’.’

Yoongi lets out a long breath. ‘Fucking hell.’

He shakes his head. ‘I wish I’d never got in your car.’

You kind of wish the same thing.

***

Yoongi’s cracked open a couple of beers with your dinner.

‘Be careful when you’re crossing the stream tomorrow – the bridge is hard to see at the best of times, and I don’t think the snow’s made it any easier.’

‘Yes, dad,’ you say, rolling your eyes.

You’d listened the first time he said it, but he’s repeated himself a few times now.

He’s acting like he’s more worried about you getting to your sister safely than himself evading the entire manhunt that’s looking for him.

‘I did survive an entire adulthood without you, you know,’ you say, teasing.

He ignores you.

‘There’s an SOS box two miles west when you get to the main road —’

‘Yes, I know how that works,’ you say, cutting him off.

‘And if any man sends you dick pics you should block him right off the bat,’ Yoongi finishes.

You stop, processing his words, then realise he’s joking.

Your laughter makes the frown line between his brows disappear.

‘And you don’t owe any man anything even if he makes you come,’ Yoongi continues.

You raise an eyebrow at him. ‘Should I be writing this wisdom down?’

Yoongi frowns. ‘I just don’t want anyone to take advantage of you.’

‘Show me how to crush a trachea,’ you suggest.

Yoongi swigs his beer.

‘Yeah, good idea.’

He gets up, pushes his sleeves back.

You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his upper arm.

‘If any asshole tries anything with you, you should go for all his weak spots.’

He points to his own neck, the hollow between his collarbones. ‘Jab them right here, elbow up into his nose, knee into his balls. Then, fucking run.’

He holds out his hands. ‘Come on, try me.’

You look at him uncertainly. ‘You want me to hit you?’

Yoongi says, patient, ‘Hit me now so when you hit the next asshole you’ll know how to do it right.’

‘Who are all these assholes that I’m meeting?’ you ask, but you comply anyway.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as you jab your fingers into his neck.

‘Harder,’ he says, grabbing your hand.

‘I don’t want to hurt you —’

‘Hit me as hard as I shoved that gun into your ribs,’ Yoongi says.

The memory makes you wince, and you redouble your efforts with the next jab.

When he coughs and splutters, you jerk your elbow up, straight into his nose.

He’s doubled over now, but there’s one last move he’s asked you to do.

You knee him in the balls, and he grabs your thigh at the last second so hold off the blow.

You wrench his hand off and take two steps back.

‘Fuck,’ Yoongi swears.

He folds over onto the kitchen floor, still coughing, eyes watering.

‘You’re supposed to run now,’ he wheezes out.

‘Do you — do you want some water or something?’ you offer.

He shakes his head. ‘I think you’re good. You’re pretty damn quick.’

‘Sorr—’

Yoongi fixes you with a glare. ‘Don’t even think about apologising,’ he scolds. ‘You fuck the asshole up, and then you run. You did it perfectly.’

‘Can I practice it again?’ you ask, sweetly.

Yoongi says, ‘Yeah —’

It takes him a moment to realise you’re joking.

***

Yoongi steps out of the shower, fully dressed, his hair still wet, making little trails of wet course down the neck of his sweatshirt.

You’re already on the couch, covered in a fluffy duvet.

‘You can take the bed if you want,’ he offers. ‘I’ll take the couch.’

‘I’m fine,’ you tell him.

He sits on the edge of the bed, towel drying his hair.

You don’t realise you’re staring at him until he asks, voice dry, ‘Something on my face?’

‘Nothing,’ you answer, startled. ‘You look good clean.’

His laughter is deep, gravelly. ‘I’d have taken a shower earlier if I’d known you preferred me clean.’

‘You should get clean for yourself,’ you answer, primly, but your lips are curving in a smile anyway.

‘Your hair looks pretty like this,’ he says.

You tug at a lock of hair, self-conscious.

‘I’m surprised you’re not better at handling compliments,’ Yoongi continues. He’s looking at you now, teasing in his voice. ‘Given how pretty you are.’

You bury your face in your duvet.

‘Stop teasing me,’ you say, muffled.

He seems to hear you just fine.

‘I’m not teasing,’ he says. ‘I’m just telling you what I think.’

‘Just turn the lights off,’ you grumble.

Yoongi laughs again. ‘You’re not the first woman to tell me to shut up, to be fair.’

He gets up, turns the lights out.

***

You wake in the middle of the night to Yoongi groaning, tossing and turning in bed.

‘Yoongi?’ you call, sitting up to look at him.

He doesn’t answer, but his groaning intensifies.

You get up and pad across the room to him.

He’s drenched in sweat, thrashing in the sheets, holding out his hands.

He’s having a nightmare.

‘Hey,’ you say, grasping his hand.

He sits up abruptly, looking around in the dark, bewildered, disoriented.

You don’t have to think about it.

You pull him in a hug, wrapping your arms tight around him. ‘You’re fine. It was a nightmare.’

You don’t think he’s really listening, but he holds you back.

His heart’s thumping so hard you can feel it under your arm.

‘You’re fine,’ you tell him again.

Eventually his grip loosens, and he pulls back a little.

‘That was some bad dream,’ you say, breathless from how tightly he’s been holding you.

He doesn’t answer, and you realise he’s staring at your lips.

His kiss takes you by surprise, but you don’t pull away.

His lips are soft and warm. When he licks into your mouth you can’t help the whine that falls from your lips.

Your hand fists in the material of his sweatshirt as he kisses you again and again, pulling you into a haze of pleasure so deep it takes you a moment to realise he’s stopped, his hand on your side, on your bare skin, under your top.

He says your name.

‘Do you want this?’ he asks. ‘We don’t have to do this if it’s not what you want.’

‘This?’ you ask. ‘You mean us kissing like this?’

You run your hand along his chest, stopping when you get to the waistband of his sweats.

‘You mean touching each other like this?’

Your hand delves lower, and he lets out a low groan as you wrap your fingers around his hardness.

‘Like this?’

‘I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,’ Yoongi says, his hand closing over yours.

‘I want to do this with you,’ you tell him.

He groans again, pulls you fully onto the bed, helps you tug your sweatshirt over your head.

His warm hands slide up from your waist, making slow passes over your sides, and by the time he cups your breasts, your nipples are fully hard.

‘Don’t tease, Yoongi,’ you say, trying not to moan as he rolls a nipple under his thumb.

‘Not teasing,’ he says, voice low, thick. ‘I just — fuck, you’re so pretty–’

He dips his head, and at the first flick of his tongue against the tip of your breast, you moan.

‘Yoongi,’ you plead.

‘I’ve got it,’ he tells you, lifting off your breast. ‘I’ve got you.’

Yoongi mouths at your breasts until your hips are writhing under him.

‘Please, please,’ you plead.

He tugs at your sweatpants, and when you raise your hips to help him get them off, he leans down and presses a warm kiss to the bare skin over your hipbone.

‘Wanna taste you,’ he tells you.

He pushes your thighs apart, stops with his face over your core for a split second, breathing you in.

Then he kisses you, open-mouthed, tongue delving into your cunt like he’s starving for you.

Your moan changes into a cry of pleasure as he licks at you, nose nudging your clit.

You reach out for something to grab, fisting the sheets, and Yoongi’s hand grips the flesh of your thigh, firm.

‘Shit,’ he says, ‘ you’re so wet you’re gonna make me come.’

The idea of him coming before he gets inside you could make you cry.

‘Get inside, Yoongi,’ you moan.

‘Not gonna last, not with you like this,’ Yoongi tells you. He strokes between your legs, presses his thumb in firm strokes over your clit, licks into your cunt again, and you cry his name as you come.

‘Fuck, that’s my good girl,’ Yoongi grunts. ‘Can you take me now?’

He slides his cock into you, hard, thick, whilst you’re still pulsing from your orgasm, and you keen with the pleasure of it.

He’s breathless, head thrown back, eyes shut as he moves, fucking you deep.

You kiss along his bared throat, and he swears. ‘Fuck, baby, stop – I can’t —’

He pulls out suddenly, and a moment later you feel the warmth of his cum spurting on your belly.

‘C’mere,’ he says, pulling you close, kissing you deep. ‘Stay.’

***

You wait on the porch whilst Yoongi drives your car out of the carport. He pulls up in front of the porch, gets out.

‘Remember what you have to do?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say.

You’ve talked about it so much you don’t think you can bear to go over it again.

‘Drive safe, ok?’ Yoongi says. He’s looking at you, intently. ‘And thank you, for everything.’

‘Good luck with being exonerated,’ you say.

It sounds stupid, you sound stupid, but you don’t know what else to say.

Yoongi walks you over to your car, waits until your seatbelt’s buckled.

‘I’ll see you, Yoongi,’ you say.

‘Take this,’ he says.

You look at the phone number he’s got scribbled down on a scrap of paper.

‘It’s a burner phone. I can’t check it all the time but do you think you could —’

He breaks off mid-sentence, then pushes on. ‘Do you think you could text me when you get to your sister’s? I just want to know you’re safe.’

‘Sure,’ you say. You slide the scrap of paper into the pocket of your salopes, zip it up.

‘Good,’ Yoongi says.

You reach out, tug the collar of his parka.

His kiss is as good a way to say goodbye as any, you think.

Yoongi closes the door, waits on the porch as you drive away.

He gets smaller and smaller in the distance, and eventually, you can’t see him at all.

***

It’s been nearly a month since you left Yoongi at the house.

You’d pulled up at your sister’s house to find out she’d just filed a missing persons report on you.

You’d had an emotional reunion with your sister, an equally emotional introduction to your new baby nephew, and one meal and one hot shower later, you’d found yourself at the police station, being questioned by a couple of detectives who’d regarded you with suspicion so strong it was a short step from open accusation.

You’d been questioned for hours but had eventually been allowed home. You’d been truthful, as you’d told Yoongi you would be, apart from one thing.

It was only later, when you were on your bed in your sister’s spare room, that you’d picked up your phone and scrolled to the name you’d saved Yoongi’s number under.

You’d typed out a text, two words, unincriminating, you’d thought.

I’m safe.

The next morning, there was a text back, similar to yours in brevity.

I’m glad.

You’d refrained from texting again, or calling, not wishing to put Yoongi at risk in case anyone looked into your phone records.

You’d been called in again for questioning on two separate occasions after the initial interview, once by people who’d introduced themselves as federal agents.

You’d thought that was the end of it until the media got hold of your identity.

There was a week or so of reporters stopping you outside your house, waiting for you in the school car park, until eventually something more newsworthy came along.

You’d been photographed more times in that week than you’d even been in your life.

You’ve taken to watching the evening news every night, but as time stretches on and Min Yoongi hasn’t been found, he’s been dropping down the list of top stories, barely scraping a mention.

You’re glad.

You hope he’s closer to getting what he wished for.

***

‘Y/N,’ says Bora, your head of department. ‘Mr Lee wants to see you.’

You look up from your grading, a little surprised. ‘Did he say what it was about?’

‘Nope, just that he’s free now.’

You pocket your phone, straighten your ID badge and get up.

Mr Lee is the school principal, and you’d organised a meeting with him when the media frenzy over your involvement with Min Yoongi was at its peak, but you’ve not seen him since.

Mrs Choi, his PA, waves you in.

‘Mr Lee,’ you say in greeting. ‘Did you want to see me?’

‘Yes, please come in and have a seat,’ Mr Lee says.

He’s a serious man in his mid forties, and as far as principals go, you know he’s got a good reputation.

‘There’s been a complaint put in about you,’ Mr Lee says, sparing you any preamble.

Your stomach drops.

‘What about?’ you ask.

‘I know the media furore has died off over Min Yoongi, but the PTA has fielded a number of concerns raised by worried parents over your involvement in the case.’

You’re taken aback. ‘A number of concerns? It’s not just one —’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Mr Lee, and to his credit, he does seem genuinely upset. ‘I’m going to have to ask if you can take a few weeks off.’

‘Off?’ you ask, worried.

‘It’s not a suspension,’ Mr Lee says, somehow giving the impression that a suspension is exactly what it is. ‘You’ll be paid, and at the end of four weeks we’ll meet again to discuss what your future is at this school.’

You’re trying to make sense of this. ‘My future at this school?’

Mr Lee gets up, moves to take the seat next to you. ‘I’m hoping that having you off teaching for a month will give enough time for these parents to realise that you’re not a bad influence on their kids.’

‘And if they don’t?’ you ask.

‘I’m hoping they will.’

You swallow, and to your horror, tears prick the back of your eyelids.

You blink them back.

‘Should I look for another job, Mr Lee?’

‘It doesn’t hurt to keep your options open,’ Mr Lee says gently.

You suppose that’s that.

***

You wake to a dozen missed calls and texts from your sister.

You blink blearily at your phone and swipe to answer.

‘Yeah?’ you grunt. ‘Is everything ok?’

‘It’s Min Yoongi,’ your sister says. ‘He’s all over the news.’

You sit up abruptly. ‘Is he ok?’

Your sister, who’s heard all about your time with Yoongi, barring the details of your one-night stand, laughs.

‘He’s more than ok. Get online, sis. There’s a press statement you might want to watch.’

You’re still a little drowsy, but by the time you’ve got your laptop open and made yourself coffee, you’re wide awake.

Your phone rings again whilst you’re reading about how new evidence and a new witness was brought forward, resulting in a swift retrial.

Distractedly, you swipe to answer.

His voice makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s gravelly, low, with the distinct mix of sardonic and soft that brings you back to the house in the woods, over a month ago now.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘How’re you keeping?’

You close your eyes, suck in a breath.

‘Jeez, you telemarketers are getting a little personal, aren’t you?’ you ask.

His laughter makes you feel warm inside.

‘I just wondered if you wanted to go get dinner with me sometime.’

‘Depends,’ you answer. ‘Are we going to have to avoid the police?’

‘Always,’ he says, making you smile. ‘But I’m a free man now, I guess you haven’t heard.’

‘Your friends came through, huh?’

‘All of them,’ he says, the warmth in his voice palpable even through the line. ‘Including you.’

***

You’re a little nervous as you wait for Yoongi at the restaurant he picked. It’s a little out of the way for you, but at least it’s not snowing.

He’s dressed in black, a cashmere sweater that sets off the glow in his skin, his hair styled back.

The rings in his fingers, the earrings in his ears gleam in the golden light.

He’s so beautiful you can’t quite believe he’s real.

Yet it’s him who stops in front of you, gaze flickering over you with a flattering intensity.

‘How can you be even prettier than I remember?’ he asks, tilting his head.

‘Guess you have a bad memory,’ you say. You’re smiling so hard your cheeks are hurting, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind.

‘I’ve thought about you a lot,’ he says.

‘Yeah?’

Yoongi pulls out your chair for you.

‘Yeah. I saw the footage of those reporters hounding you.’

‘They got bored after a while,’ you tell him.

‘I’m glad you’re all right,’ Yoongi says.

Over dinner he tells you about how the retrial resulted in all charges against him being overturned, how he’s been back home resting.

‘Been to the beach yet?’ you ask.

Yoongi looks at you over his wine glass. ‘You inviting me? You’re the one with a beach hut.’

‘We can go,’ you say. ‘I’ve been informally suspended from my job.’

This is news to him.

‘Is it to do with me?’ he asks quietly.

You shrug. ‘I’m hoping it’ll die down, especially since everyone knows you’re an innocent man now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ you tell him.

He frowns a little, but lets the subject slide.

After dinner he walks you to your car.

‘Can I take you out again?’ he asks.

‘I’d like that,’ you tell him.

He leans close, brushes a kiss against your cheek that sends a thrill all the way to your toes.

‘I live about a half hour drive from here,’ you tell him, when he pulls away.

‘Maybe I can drive us this time,’ he says.

***

Yoongi slips his hand into yours as he walks up the front driveway to your house with you. You look over at him in surprise.

‘What?’ he teases. ‘Don’t you want to hold my hand?’

You stick your key in the lock, push open your front door.

‘Baby, I want to hold more than that,’ you tell him.

Yoongi’s eyes darken, and he lets you push him against the door.

He’s already leaning down, lips seeking yours. He kisses you hungrily, his large hand slipping behind your neck to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth.

‘I’ve fucking missed you,’ he murmurs. ‘Shit, I’m so hard it’s embarrassing.’

‘Been deprived, huh?’ you tease, breathlessly.

‘Nah. Just you.’

He kisses a fiery path down your neck, into the hollow between your collarbones.

His hands slide down into the small of your back, cup your ass to pull you against him.

You can feel the ridge of his cock against your belly, and you roll your hips, trying to get closer.

‘Pull these down,’ Yoongi says, thumb looped in the band of your lacy panties.

They’re stuck to you, the wetness between your legs trails a path down your bare thighs that Yoongi’s only too happy to lick off.

‘I wanted to wait,’ he tells you, lifting the skirt of your dress, unzipping his trousers.

‘Wait next time,’ you tell him. ‘Want you now.’

‘You’ve got me,’ he tells you.

There’s the rustle of foil, the snick of elastic, then Yoongi’s parting your legs, sliding inside you with a groan deep in his chest.

Just like before, he fills you perfectly.

Yoongi kisses you again, slow though you can feel his heart thudding wildly in his chest.

‘Feels so good, every time,’ he tells you.

He starts to move then, doesn’t stop when you part your thighs to take him deeper, doesn’t stop when you cross your ankles behind his back and cry his name, doesn’t stop until you’re panting, sticky with your release, clutching him tight.

It’s only then that his thrusts start to become erratic, speeding up then slowing as he reaches his peak. He comes with a shout of your name, buried deep inside you, hips still moving like he, too, can’t get enough.

***

When you wake in the morning, it’s with Yoongi’s finger tracing a lazy path down your spine, his fingertip warm on your bare skin.

‘More, Yoongi?’ you ask, sleepy.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, you can hear the rumble in his chest as he suppresses a laugh.

‘Tapping out on me so soon, my love?’ he asks.

After the first time when you hadn’t made it to your bed, you’d fucked three more times before you’d finally collapsed in a tangled heap.

You’d woken once, to see him flat on his back, looking out the window, fingers intertwined with yours.

‘Can’t sleep?’ you’d asked.

He’d turned to you, pressed a kiss to your forehead. ‘Just thinking how lucky I am. I’d thought being wrongly imprisoned was the worst thing that had happened to me. And here I am.’

‘Here you are, you lucky sonofabitch,’ you’d laughed, squealing as he’d pinned your hands to the bed and half-heartedly climbed on top of you again.

‘I am lucky,’ he’d said, his free hand sliding under your ass, squeezing. You’d have fucked him again if he’d wanted, despite the soreness between your legs, but he’d wrapped you in his arms instead. ‘Sleep, baby.’

So you had.

Now your phone rings, distracting you from Yoongi’s wandering hands, just about.

‘Shit, it’s Mr Lee,’ you say, sitting up straight.

Yoongi cocks a brow at you as you take the call.

‘Y/N, I wanted to let you know that the school board have voted to have you back taking your regular classes, at your earliest convenience. If you’ll have us.’

You frown. ‘I hadn’t realised there was a vote?’

‘An emergency meeting was convened last night,’ Mr Lee says. ‘You don’t have to let me know now, but we’d love to have you back.’

You hang up, thoroughly confused.

‘I guess I’m not informally suspended any more,’ you tell Yoongi.

‘For a new gym with a fully functional basketball court, and a grant for gym equipment, they’d better be giving you a raise too,’ drawls Yoongi.

‘You did this?’

‘What? You thought I was some deadbeat who held you at gunpoint and wasn’t going to repay everything you did for me?’

‘I never thought you were a deadbeat,’ you say.

‘I know,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘You’re an idiot.’

You swat at him, outraged.

‘You’re my idiot,’ Yoongi says, deflecting your blows easily. ‘And I’m going to make sure no one takes advantage of you ever again.’

He hesitates. ‘If — if you’ll have me.’

You pretend to think about it. ‘Well, you’re not perfect,’ you say, ‘but I guess you’ll do.’

#bts smut #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #suga smut #yoongi x reader #bts fic #yoongi fanfic

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softlyspector · 7 months

Text

strawberries

Summary: Ellie agrees to come over for dinner.

This can be read as a standalone, set after clouds Joel comes home to find you telling your daughter a bedtime story.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word count: ~2.4k

Warnings: set in the clouds universe but can be read alone, Joel and the reader have a daughter together, certified girl dad Joel Miller, allusions to events in tlou part 2, Joel is a sad old guy, Joel and Ellie are not on good terms

A/N: Hello. I'm back on my soft dad bullshit! This is a little longer than I intended it to be, but I'm used to writing 10-15k so I'll call this a win. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!

Frost sparkles brightly in the front yard, diamonds and crystals, boundless, endless hills and valleys of it.

Joel is upstairs when the front door opens. Cold air rushes into the house, blisteringly, brutally cold, frozen drafts of it. He can feel it, even in Evie’s room.

His daughter gives an exaggerated, full body shiver and reaches chubby little hands up to him, fingers opening and closing in a silent request to be picked up.

He tucks Evie into his arms and bends without stooping over to grab her little blanket. It’s patterned with strawberries, vestiges of things from when she was a baby, a consolation prize to him that you’d traded for just days before Evie would be born.

It’s pink, the strawberries a bright, smiling red, pockets of green leaves and tiny, carefully stitched seeds. He had wanted to paint his spare bedroom pink when you were still pregnant, but you’d settled on sunshine yellow instead.

The pink, the strawberries, had reminded him of another little girl, another little pink blanket. It had been more than a gift for compromising on the color of the walls.

He hears you pad through the house to the entryway, soft footed and quiet as a mouse. “Hey, kiddo,” your voice drifts up the staircase, airy light and golden hued. “I’m really glad you decided to come.” After a moment you add, “Joel is, too.”

Joel buries his nose in Evie’s hair and she rewards him with a giggle at the scrape of his beard against her cheek. She sounds like sunshine, like a little trickster god that doesn’t ever feel the cold. He smiles and a tiny hand splays across his jaw.

Nerves beat anxiously against his lungs, leaving little plum colored bruises strung across his chest, his heart.

“Yeah,” Ellie answers from below, and her tone is uncomfortable but not hostile, not yet, not with you. The front door squeaks as it swings shut. “I almost brought Dina with me,” she admits with a slightly awkward laugh.

There’s a short silence, the shuffle of fabric. You’re hugging her, he knows you are, cheek pressed to her hair, arm around her shoulders.

“Next time,” you say, voice muffled and laughing bright, “bring Dina. We wouldn’t mind.”

“Ellie,” Evie says, her voice a little gasp. The tiny star of her hand disappears from Joel’s cheek. It leaves a cold spot on his skin. “Daddy,” She cranes in his arms, looking toward her bedroom door like she might catch a glimpse of Ellie if she looked hard enough. Joel presses a hand to her back to keep her in his arms when she tilts a little too far. “Ellie!”

The blanket slips down her shoulders when she bounces in excitement.

“Yep,” he says, readjusting the strawberries over her back. “Ellie’s here. Let’s go see her, baby.”

He carries Evie in his arms down the steps, and they creak the whole way. He keeps his hand protectively against her back and she leans her head against his shoulder, warm and heavy, thumb in her mouth.

The front door is shut but the entryway still feels cold. You and Ellie have relocated to the kitchen, puddles in the shapes of clouds crowded around the mat in front of the door, slush like mountainsides sliding glacially slow away from Ellie’s abandoned boots.

Light, bright and warm, floods the kitchen, spills through the archway he’s almost afraid to step through.

Your favorite album is playing over the stereo. The sound of your voice is low and peppered with love. “I miss having all of you together.” The low pulse of music is undercut by the sound of your knife rising and falling against a cutting board.

Ellie makes a discontent noise.

“I know. Trust me, I do,” you answer her, even though she didn’t say anything. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss it. That I don’t miss you.”

There’s a long silence. The song spins on, one of the slower tracks on the album. “I know,” she sighs eventually. “I know.”

Evie points one hand toward the kitchen but doesn’t lift her head from his shoulder. “Mama?” She murmurs against the collar of his shirt, around the thumb in her mouth.

“Mm. Mama’s waitin’ on us,” he steps into the light, crosses through the dining room, and into the bright x-ray of the kitchen light.

Eva squirms in his arms, wriggly and so strong, when she sees Ellie. Joel goes to one knee to set her feet firmly on the floor. The little pink blanket is left in his hand when she darts out of his grip.

She’s dexterous and wiley, and goddamn fast, for a three year old.

Sarah had been the same.

Ellie catches her on the other side of the kitchen and swings her up into her arms, smiling, poking her in the sides until she laughs and then shrieks.

It’s a violent reminder of the familiarity that his daughters have with each other, without him. There are things he’s not privy to anymore, not even in his own house, with his own family. Eva’s laughs fade into giggles and Ellie sways with her.

Ellie doesn’t look at him, doesn’t say anything at all.

Her face is sharper, the last of childhood roundness lost. She’s taller, thinner. She should eat more, and he’s glad she’s there for dinner. He’s glad she’s there at all. But he doesn't know how to say any of that.

“Howdy,” he settles for, hooking one thumb into his belt.

She looks slowly up, and nods. Her face goes tense as soon as she meets his eyes.

It’s better than looking like she might flee.

Neither of them say anything else and the air goes stiff with unspoken words, with the unresolved, unsaid past.

“Joel,” you touch his arm and smile softly at him when he looks at you. “Would you set the table, please?”

“Sure,” he agrees, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

You lean in and kiss his jaw. “Thank you.”

Setting the table gives him something to do. He goes back into the dining room with a stack of plates and cutlery, placemats rolled neatly on top of the pile. He drapes the strawberries over the back of one of the chairs.

When he unrolls the placemats, he huffs under his breath.

They’re fashioned from spare bolts of cloth, the stitching neat and even. Embroidered around the edges are little bats. Bats with cartoonish looking twin white fangs. You can’t stitch to save your life, so he knows you must have traded for them.

Or, more likely, someone gifted them to you, to Evie. Jackson as a whole adored Evie, adored her odd little quirks.

It grates on him sometimes, because it feels like a claim over his kid; and she’s not theirs, she’s his, she’s yours and Ellie’s.

But it must be some kind of miracle that Evie would grow up with such love from so many people, so he lets it go and lets it be.

Someone had once said to him, of her monster obsession, wait ‘til she sees one of the infected. She’ll probably fall in love.

It had been a joke, one he did not laugh at, one that made you tighten your hand on his forearm. But your teeth had been gritted too, your anger shimmering hot.

If Joel had it his way, Evie would never see one of those damn things. She’d never even need to know they existed.

Teaching Ellie how to navigate the world had been hard enough, had taken a toll he hadn’t expected. Teaching Eva one day would probably be the final nail in his coffin, the thing that made his heart squeeze just a little too tight.

A tiny body collides with his leg as he finishes setting out the bat laden placemats. “C’mere, you,” he lifts his baby into his arms and settles into one of the chairs.

She’s getting too big for him to carry, but he’ll do it as long as he can. The soft smell of her floats up, unlocks memories that still smart. “Look a’ that,” he points to the bats and gets a laugh in return, a little hand squishing the fabric up so she can drag it towards herself.

“Bats,” she says and tips her head back against his shoulder, the crown of her head nestled just below his chin.

The music spins on in the kitchen, accompanied now by the hiss of cooking, the light sound of chatter. You must say something funny, because Ellie suddenly bursts out in a laugh he hasn’t heard in so long it makes his chest clench.

“Mm,” Joel hums and straightens out the mat again. “Just for you, probably. Everybody in town knows how much you like bats.”

Eva just watches him, warm, soft hand landing on his cheek again, as it so often does.

Those big, knowing eyes are watching him. He cups one hand against the side of her head and leans down to kiss her forehead. “You gonna help?”

He sets her back down onto the floor, doles out the forks one at a time so she can bop around the table to each chair and lie it next to the plate. She doesn’t run, holds it just the way he’d told her to as he follows dutifully behind her. Just in case. “My smart girl,” he says when she’s finished with the last one and he’s set out the knives himself. “Gettin’ so big.”

Sometimes, when he looks at her, he sees vestiges of Sarah in her features. He blinks and it's gone and he tries to tell himself that there are no similarities between this girl and that one.

But there are. Of course, there are. They’re sisters, even if they’ll never meet. There are parts of Sarah in Eva, because there are parts of him in each of them, even if he doesn’t like to admit that.

“Daddy?”

“Evie?”

She giggles when he says her name. She’s in his arms again, warm and heavy. He can feel the hummingbird beat of her heart against his.

“Why don’t you like Ellie?” Each word is carefully said, the syllables wobbling around on her tongue. His smart girl, he thinks again. Too smart, too perceptive. Just like Ellie; no secrets, no lies.

She would be four in just a few short months.

Four. It’s not a big enough number; it’s too big of a number. He blinked and his baby was gone.

It’s how it always happens. Blink and they’re gone.

Something heavy drops into Joel’s chest. “I do,” he answers gruffly. Big eyes meet his, patiently waiting for more. The tilt of her brows, the pull of her little mouth, is all you. “I do,” he repeats. He wants to say he loves her, but he doesn’t.

She nods, so serious. “Me too,” she agrees, like she’s glad the matter has been cleared up.

When you all sit down to eat, Evie insists on sitting with Ellie. Joel tells her she doesn’t have to let her, and Ellie sharply says that it’s okay, it’s fine, they do it all the time.

He didn’t know that, so he just nods and says, “Okay.”

Mostly he listens to you and Ellie talk. You volley questions and chatter back and forth so naturally. He keeps quiet, because there’s something thick lodged in the back of his throat, because Ellie probably doesn’t want to hear anything he has to say anyhow, because she won’t want to answer any questions he might have.

Because he feels like he’s already too late.

But you ask a lot of the questions he would have, and Ellie pretends like she doesn’t know what you’re doing and answers them always, and that’s something at least. She talks a lot about patrol and a little about Dina, cheeks going pink when she does. She seems like she’s doing good, without him, and that’s all he can really ask for.

Ellie clears the plates away and laughs, just like he did, at the bats embroidered beneath. You produce something that passes for dessert, preserved strawberries from a jar in the cabinet, cream poured over top.

Evie falls asleep against Ellie and you take her gently into your arms.

And then it’s over, and it feels like no time has passed.

“Joel?” you say when Ellie is pulling on her coat. He looks at you and Ellie does too. “Why don’t you walk Ellie out?” You nod down at the sleeping toddler against your chest. “Please?”

“I don’t need - he doesn’t have to—”

“Joel?” You say over Ellie’s protest.

“‘Course.”

He walks Ellie to the front door, watches her pull on her shoes in record time, and then steps out onto the frostbitten porch with her. “Thanks for coming,” he says softly. “I appreciate it.”

She looks uncomfortable, hands balled inside her jacket. “I didn’t come for you.”

“I know you didn’t.” The yard glows in the dark, bright and spidery white. His breath clouds the air. “And I know you don’t wanna hear it. But I’m, uh, proud of you. Everyone says you’re doin’ real good.”

She looks like she might say something, mouth twisted down, brows pinched together. But she doesn’t. She keeps it inside and only nods.

“It was good,” he says after a moment when she doesn’t immediately bolt down the front steps, watching her from the corner of his eyes.

The tension between them eases just a little. “It was okay, old man,” she says and then seems to realize she slipped just a little. “See you around.”

“Yep,” he answers, but she’s already gone, down the steps, leaving footprints behind in his glittering front yard.

They haven’t talked about anything. But it’s something. It’s a little start.

You’re just leaving Eva’s room when he comes up the stairs. You carefully leave the door cracked, fingers of her night light reaching out into the dark hall.

He doesn’t realize he might be crying until you’re tucking your arms around him and making a gentle shushing sound. “It’s all right,” you whisper, arms curling around his shoulders. “C’mon. She’s still here. She wants to try.”

“I know.” His voice cracks right down the middle and he clears his throat before attempting the words again. “I know.”

“Okay,” you tug at his hair and pull back to look at him. “Let’s go to bed.”

But he's failing again. He's reaching for something he can't quite grasp, can't quite get to stick and stay and keep safe.

His heart beats hard, squeezes tight, like a cold fist has curled sharp nails into each pulse.

Too late, too late, too late, it says.

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #clouds fic

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 months

Text

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {7}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: A short skip over the winter break and into 2024 season.. Warnings: 18+ only, fluffies WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight

Christmas Eve 2023 - French Alps The air was still when you woke to a fresh dumping of snow on the mountain. The window provided a picture of tranquillity and the embers in the fire gave a peaceful glow to the dark wood walls. Charles had disappeared at dawn for a morning ski with Arthur and you squinted against the white glare to try and find them on the mountainside.

You probably could have gone back to sleep if it wasn’t for the door crashing open and the sudden weight of a child on your legs. Penelope crawled up to the headboard with a squeal and jumped into your arms as Max just reached the bedroom door.

“P, watch out for auntie’s tummy,” Max reminded. She now had to watch out for yours and Aunt Vicky’s tummy, since your sister had announced her pregnancy a few weeks ago. “Sorry, she slept the whole flight so she’s full of energy. I tried to get her to play with Luka but she wanted you.”

“That’s okay,” you said as she burrowed under the blankets and put her cold feet on Lando’s back. “Are you excited for Christmas?”

Penelope nodded eagerly while Lando slowly woke and you were grateful he was wearing a hideous pair of santa-themed pyjama pants. With even more children around for Christmas this year, everyone had taken to wearing pyjamas. It was good for moments like these, but bad for quick access when you were spooning in the night.

“Papa let me open some presents early!”

Max disappeared out of the room with a wave, heading back to his suite with Kelly down the hall. The small mountain retreat had been completely rented out for another combined family holiday and at the rate the Norris’, Leclerc’s and Verstappen’s were procreating, an entire resort would be needed to host you all next year. Your bet was on Max and Lorenzo becoming fathers next.

“How exciting! And what did you get?”

Penelope held out her arm to show a mermaid inspired charm bracelet. “That’s beautiful!”

“It’s got Ariel!” she exclaimed, pointing to a red haired mermaid as she bounced excitedly.

“Is that an earthquake?” Lando asked as he scooped the little girl up into a hug. “No, it’s little P. Why are you waking your favourite uncle up so early?”

“You’re not my favourite,” she said with a fit of giggles.

Lando hung his head and shook it with fake sadness. “Kids are brutal.”

“Kids are honest,” you corrected before kissing his pout away.

“Gross,” P said as she screwed up her face and started to climb off the bed to find ‘Maxie’. She did a sudden u-turn and scrambled across the bed to gently touch your stomach before leaning closer and whispering, “Bye-bye, baby. Love you.”

She was gone again, this time the door swinging shut as she left with no farewell for you or Lando. He let out a little chuckle as he pushed you back into the pillows and drifted down the bed, taking the blankets with him.

“Hello, baby,” he murmured softly to the bump. At just more than half way along your bump could no longer be mistaken for overindulgence or bloating. “You are looking lovely and round this morning.”

“Wow, you really know how to sweet talk a lady,” you chuckled as you combed your fingers through his hair.

“Shh, I’m having a conversation with my daughter, no eavesdropping,” he warned with a smirk before brushing your shirt up and pressing a kiss to your skin before continuing his conversation. The moustache and shaped beard he was slowly but surely growing thicker tickled with each whispered word, the movement of his lips dragging the coarse hairs over your sensitive skin until goosebumps prickled.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” he said with a smile as the door creaked open and Charles walked in with wind-kissed cheeks. “I just want to hurry up and hold you.”

“Patience, mon cher,” Charles said with a grin, depositing the second layer of cashmere he had worn under his ski jacket on the coat hook. “It’s only four more months.”

Lando groaned at the reminder before shifting on the bed to make space for Charles.

“Anything you want to add this morning?” you asked.

You reached for the hem of the shirt, ready to pull it down if it was a no when a knock had you freeze. No, it wasn’t a knock. The thud hadn’t come from outside, but inside. You dropped the shirt and stared at the jut of your hip, right where the skin went soft as it stretched up to your ribs. That soft tissue bulged ever so slightly as you felt the strange sensation of pressure and it drew a gasp that shocked your boyfriends.

“What? What is it?” Lando asked, his voice thick with concern.

“Give me your hand,” you ordered, already reaching for one of each as you placed them on the spot. “Shhh, just shhh.”

You felt it again and Charles exhaled a shaky breath that ended in a joyous laugh before grabbing Lando’s hand and shifting it slightly.

“Wha-”

“Shh,” you urged as Charles pressed a finger to his lips. The silence grew and everyone held their breath, waiting.

The air wooshed from Lando with an exclamation, “No fucking way!” His eyes grew wide and he stared at his palm as if the imprint of his daughter’s foot was permanently held on his skin. “Holy shit! She…she…kicked.”

Charles wrapped an arm around Lando as their shimmering eyes met yours. Pure happiness saturated the room, spilling out into the hall as the door opened and Oliver appeared a little worried. “Everything okay? I thought I heard Lando screeching.”

“Everything’s perfect,” Lando grinned, ignoring the joke he had heard since hitting puberty.

“She just started kicking,” Charles explained with an equally bright grin, while you danced your fingers along your side, trying to tickle her foot.

“Core memory unlocked, huh?” Oliver laughed at his brother’s eagerness, remembering the first kicks with his own daughters. “Breakfast is ready when you are.”

“Thanks, we’ll be there soon,” Charles said as Oliver closed the door again.

“Do we have to?” Lando asked as he curled back down and stared at your stomach intently. “I could watch this all day.”

“You can stay but I am hungry, and she is now shy,” you teased as you pulled your shirt back into place and climbed out of bed. With a groan he followed you to the walk-in wardrobe, just like you knew he would.

“Is the powder good?” Lando asked Charles while they changed into some casual day clothes perfect for the warm interior of the retreat.

“It’s perfect,” Charles all but moaned, it was hard to believe they were talking about snow but both of them loved to ski. “Arthur wants to head back out after lunch.”

Lando looked at you and you waved a hand. “Sheesh, babe, I’m not your keeper. You can go if you want.”

Lando hated being away the most, not that Charles enjoyed it, but there wasn’t the same level of separation anxiety that Lando had. “I don’t want to leave you here on your own.”

“On my own?” you laughed and slipped your feet into some simple flats before heading to the door. As soon as it opened the cacophony of everyone congregating in the great room down the hall spilled into your room. “I couldn’t be on my own if I tried.”

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxvertappen1, maxfewtrell and 1,382,589 others yourusername This kid scored the gene pool the lottery. Merry Christmas from my family to yours.

Round One - Bahrain 2024 Fuel fumes drifted up from the pitlane to the balcony you stood upon as the start of the season's first race grew closer. It was strange to look down the entire length of billboards and see no new faces among the driver line up. Fernando still filled the garage beside Lance, but you held no resentment for your replacement. He was making the most out of an opportunity and it almost gave you hope that even after leaving Formula 1, maybe - just maybe - there was a way to get back in.

Next year would be interesting with so many contracts up for renewal. It was a chance to see new faces on the grid, or perhaps some old faces returning if rumours were to be believed. You wouldn’t mind seeing Sebastian make a return. For the moment, everyone was still too busy talking about Lewis and his move to Ferrari to give much thought to the other shocks that might come with the disruption. The open seat at Mercedes was going to be sought after by every driver stuck in a midfield car.

“You look deep in thought.”

You broke away from staring at the starting lights to accept a cup of herbal tea from your mother. “Just thinking about how the grid will look next year.”

“Gotta get through this one first,” she reminded. “Speaking of…it’s going to be hard having a newborn at home with those two away so much.”

“I know,” you sighed, resting your arms on the balcony rail as you blew the steam from the mug. The wall calendar at home was already marked with the first half of the season, all the nights Lando and Charles would be away circled in red ink. It had been collectively agreed that flying with a newborn wasn’t a great idea so you would only attend the races you could drive to until she was at least three months old. “This year’s calendar is fucking intense.”

“I want you to know you can call me day or night, sweetie, and I’ll be on the next plane.” She reached for your chin and turned you to face her as your throat clogged with emotion. “I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to do on your own, you saw it firsthand.”

“You’ve got your own life, I don’t want you to drop it all for me.”

She laughed softly and wrapped you in a careful hug. “You’re my daughter, you are my life, my granddaughter is too.”

“Thank you,” you sniffled and wiped your eyes, seeing the cameras in the pitlane pointed your way. “Gah, you made me cry. Now I’ll be on fucking Drive to Survive. I can already see the subtitles ‘Y/N crying as the season starts without her’. Wankers.”

Your mother narrowed her eyes at the camera and flipped them off, making you choke on a laugh. “So much maturity for a grandmother.”

“Yeah well I have been wanting to do that for a while, and I figure I can’t get you fired since you’re unemployed.”

You shared a grin and thought maybe you had more in common than you realised. You thought your fight came from Jos but now you saw a flash of it in her protectiveness and your chest warmed.

“I’m not unemployed, I’m a Lady of Leisure.” You laughed at the roll of her eyes before adding. “I might even get a Birkin for a push present to complete the initiation.”

“What the hell is a push present?”

“It’s a present a new mother gets for destroying her vagina pushing a baby out.”

It was her turn to choke on a laugh. “That’s a thing?”

“Apparently so.”

“Does the baby not count as a gift?”

“Hmm, maybe you should go ask them?” you said as you jutted your head to the plethora of influencers walking around the grid taking selfies with everyone. She wrinkled her nose at the idea, quite content to stay out of the fray like you.

“No, thank you. Oh, there they are.”

You scanned the crowd and saw Max, Charles, and Lando walking out to the grid together, their heads huddled close as they tried to hear each other over the crowd. They made a beeline to the strips of red carpet and Max stood between the other two as they took their places for the national anthem.

“Looks like the podium lineup to me,” your mother whispered.

You chewed your lip and hoped the data from testing was as promising as it looked for McLaren and Ferrari. But you could never tell quite how much of it was real with the strategies and sandbagging. “I hope so, my boy’s need a good start this year.”

Click here for the next part.

#lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

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mandos-mind-trick · 8 months

Text

Warm Me Up

Summary: A freak storm has you and Hunter seeking shelter in a cave. The desperation to get warm has some hidden feelings coming to light.

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, fingering, confession of feelings, snow storms, almost freezing to death (not really but close), hypothermia, survival skills, cuddling for warmth, fucking to survive, cock warming (literally and figuratively), post Order 66, bit of an AU

A/N: I am once again bringing you Hunter and reader fucking to survive only under different circumstances. I have been in a Hunter mood lately so you are welcome.

Thank you @starrylothcat for the idea for this one.

MASTERLIST

It’s cold.

The wind whips around you, finding every crack and crevice in your armor, numbing your skin. The storm had blown in out of nowhere, whipping big, wet snowflakes at you on a wind so strong it was hard to stand up straight. It’s a near whiteout, and even Hunter is struggling to break trail in front of you.

He stops, turning to look at you a couple feet behind him, half to make sure you’re still following him. “There’s a cave up ahead.” He says, voice barely audible over the wind through the comms.

Your fingers are going numb. You’d lost feeling in your feet not long after the storm started, already having been trekking through ankle deep snow. “Lead the way, Sarge.” You mumble, trying to convince your legs to start moving again.

It’s slow moving for the few hundred yards until you see the mountainside jutting out in the blizzard. As you get closer, you can see the dark opening of the mouth of the cave like a monster waiting to devour you. You hope that’s not the case, but you suppose a monster’s mouth would be warmer than out here.

You follow Hunter inside, the torch in his hand illuminating the small cavern. It’s not very wide, your shoulders would probably touch the walls if you stood side by side, but it’s deep enough to keep you from the howling wind outside.

You’re shivering, teeth chattering as you stand in the dark cave. The storm was blocking your comms, preventing you from reaching the Marauder. This was supposed to be a quick mission, which was why you and Hunter had gone alone, leaving the others with the ship. Tech had assured you both the weather was going to be clear for the foreseeable future.

You’re going to have words with him when you get back.

“Kriff, it’s cold.” Hunter says, scanning the back of the cave before determining it clear.

He turns back around, his torch illuminating your shivering figure. Neither of you had real cold weather gear, and Hunter’s armor was better protection against it than yours.

“How are your toes?” He asks, stepping closer.

“Numb.” You say, voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around your face.

“And your fingers?” He asks.

You lift your hands, fingers fumbling in an attempt to get your gloves off. He shines the torch on your exposed extremities as soon as they hit the floor, a curse crackling through his helmet. Your fingers are discolored and stiff, trembling as more shivers wrack your body.

“We need to get warm.” He says, pulling you back towards the back of the cave. “We won’t last the night at this rate.”

“H-How do we do that?” You stutter out between your chattering teeth. You were both ill prepared for this situation.

“Take your clothes off.”

You’re glad the cave is dark as the words leave Hunter’s mouth, the torch pointing at the wall as he removes his pack. You’re worried you may start steaming in embarrassment from the direct order.

You’ve been harboring a crush on him for a while. It started during one of your first missions with them. Of course, you thought he was handsome when you first met him, but you didn’t start developing feelings until he saved your life. You were relatively new to combat, though fighting wasn’t anything new, and you had failed to see the explosive at your feet. Hunter had pulled you out of the way and shielded you with his body.

He’d had his helmet on, but you couldn’t forget the way his hand felt on your arm, the way he looked hovering over you. You thought about it a lot. You still do.

You had fallen in love with him after the war ended, and he had willingly gone toe-to-toe with Tarkin to keep you on the squad. Tarkin had wanted to reassign you, but Hunter had insisted you were part of Clone Force 99 and they wouldn’t be as efficient without you.

You hadn’t dared act on it, though. He was technically your superior and you were not about to try pushing those boundaries. Plus, he’d never shown any interest in you in that way, and the last thing you wanted was to do was make things awkward.

You also just haven’t had time.

Between the Empire and deserting and being on the run and adjusting to having a literal child on board, you had little downtime for much else. You know Hunter’s stressed and has been feeling the effects of trying to keep everyone alive and deciding what to do next.

The last thing you want to do is throw your feelings on him too.

And now here he is, asking you to get naked in a cave with him.

“What?” You stutter out, looking up at him, his face barely visible. He’s removed his helmet.

“Our clothes are wet. We can’t get warm wearing wet clothes. We’ll risk hypothermia, or worse.” He explains, his helmet hitting the ground with a thud. “Seeing as how we don’t know how long this storm will last and if we’ll be able to reach the Marauder by comm when it does end, getting warm is our priority.”

His voice is so steady, so strong, reflecting every bit of the leader he is.

This is moving much faster than you had expected. You’d thought maybe a nice dinner, or a walk on the beach, at least something before your clothes started coming off. Of course, survival was different. You would like to keep your toes if possible.

Your numb fingers fumble to get your pack off as Hunter turns his back, digging through his pack. You’re glad for the darkness and the privacy as you tug at your own armor, fingers fumbling with clasps and straps as you slowly drop pieces onto the ground.

You pause as Hunter turns slightly, putting something on the floor. The cave lights with a soft yellow glow of a heat lamp, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth. So you weren’t going to freeze completely. The walls of the cave glitter with frost, your breath visible in the air as you continue to strip out of your armor.

You hesitate once your armor is off, staring at Hunter’s back. He’s making slow work of his armor, setting each piece in a pile next to his pack. You’ve watched them carefully stack their armor over and over. They always show it such reverence, though you suppose if it is your lifeline and one of your few belongings, you would treat it as such too. They always stack it in a way that would be quickest to get it back on and you can’t help but wonder if they practiced it. How fast can they get in and out of their armor if the need arose?

You bend over your pack, fumbling through its contents before your fingers hit what you’re looking for. One of the spare GAR blankets that came in each survival kit the squad carried. Working separate from larger battalions meant you had to carry more supplies with you for situations like this one.

You could cry as you pull the scratchy blanket from your pack.

You would cry, except that it feels like all liquid is frozen in your body.

You hesitate, eyeing Hunter’s back before you begin peeling your wet blacks off, goosebumps forming on your skin as it's exposed to the cold air in the cave. You fight off a shiver, shuffling closer to the heat lamp as you peel the rest off. You quickly wrap the blanket around your body, squatting down in front of the heat lamp. You can already feel the warmth from them on your exposed skin, toes starting to tingle.

Your eyes move to Hunter, his back still turned to you. You swallow thickly as he tugs the top of his blacks over his head, revealing his back. Your eyes trail the tattoo on the right side until it disappears under his blacks. You’ve seen them all in various states of undress before. It was impossible in a confined space like the barracks or the Marauder.

There had never been any insinuation, no lingering stares when you’d done a quick change. They were always so respectful, always so kind.

You felt bad for ogling them sometimes.

You quickly tuck your face in the blanket as Hunter tugs his pants down, praying you don’t start steaming. You want to look, you so badly want to look, but the last thing you need is to get caught being a creep.

Hunter moves closer to you, spreading something on the ground behind you. You nearly jump as his hand touches your back, warm through the blanket against your cold skin. He’s squatting next to you, very close to you as you peek out from your blanket.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, those stupid big, brown eyes shining in the low light from the heat lamp.

You stare at him for a moment before you nod. He pulls the blanket from the death grip you have around it, eyes never leaving yours as he opens it up, slipping his arms inside. His bare skin meets yours, turning you until your back is to his chest. He maneuvers you so easily so you’re laying on the blanket he had spread on the ground, curling his body around yours before draping your blanket across you both.

He sighs as he settles into place, his hand trailing down your arm. His hand is calloused from years of hard training, rough against your frigid skin. “Kriff, you’re freezing.” He murmurs, pulling you tighter against his chest.

Your breath hitches as his skin meets yours, cold but not nearly as frozen as yours. You can feel every ridge of muscle, every line, every divot of his body. You can feel all of him. You try not to think about it, try not to picture every fantasy you’ve had, every daydream of being in this very position with him.

Instead you focus on your shivering, the chill slowly abating as your shared warmth cumulates under the blanket. You can feel the heat lamp on your face, slowly thawing your frozen cheeks. You can also feel Hunter’s breath fanning over the top of your head.

You let your eyes drift closed, trying to avoid the thoughts racing through your head. You’re naked. Hunter’s naked. You’re very, very close. You’ve imagined this moment many, many times. Of course, it’s always under different circumstances. Normally in your fantasies, he’d hold you like this after you fucked, or on those short trips between missions when you try to get as much rest as possible. In the deeper fantasies you wake in his arms in your quiet home, the early morning light shining through the window. You’d grind against him, teasing him until he slipped inside you, making sweet love to you as you have all the time in the world, and no cares whatsoever.

Heat begins to bloom in your belly. You know it’s not just from the warmth beginning to return to you. You desperately fight it, trying to ignore the pulsing between your legs and instead focus on the roaring of the wind outside the cave, the painful throbbing in your toes, the scratchiness of the blanket, anything.

Hunter shifts just slightly behind you, letting out a long breath. Kriff, he can probably smell it. He could probably smell it before your body even started reacting. He knows. He knows.

You shift slightly, ignoring the way your thighs slide a little too easily against each other. “Sorry.” You breathe, nervously tugging on the edge of the blanket.

He hums, his fingers trailing down your front. He presses his palm against your belly, causing your breath to hitch. He shifts his legs and suddenly there’s something pressing against your ass. Something hard. “Nothing to apologize for, mesh’la.” He murmurs in your ear, his voice so low and deep you can feel it vibrating through your back.

"Hunter?" You ask, staring at the heat lamp.

He hums, pressing closer to you, his breath fanning your ear.

Your breath catches in your throat, your exhale shaky. "I'm still cold. Could you warm me up a little more?"

His arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you firmly against him as his lips meet the skin of your neck. He kisses a line from your ear to the junction of your shoulder, the hand that had been planted on your stomach slowly sliding lower. It slips between your thighs, grabbing one and lifting it over his hip. Your hands cling to the arm wrapped around you as he slides his fingers down your inner thigh. Your body is shivering for a different reason now.

You gasp quietly as his fingers trail over your wet slit, hips pushing into his hand. It’s so much better than your fantasies, those dexterous fingers flicking over your clit.

“All this just for me?” He murmurs in your ear, his voice low and rough.

“Yes,” You gasp, nails biting into his skin as he works you up. “Been thinking of this for a long time.”

“I know.” He says, sinking a finger into you. “I could sense it. At first I could smell it. I always wondered what you were thinking about.” He slips a second finger into you. “Didn’t take long to figure it out.” He kisses the side of your head. “Your heart rate would jump. Sometimes I’d smell it while you were looking at me. I was flattered. A gorgeous woman like you thinking about me like that.”

You wiggle in his arms, just enough so you can see his face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He pauses his movements, his fingers stilling inside you. “Didn’t want to complicate things. Then everything happened with the Empire and I just haven’t had the right moment.”

“Fair.” You say, eyes dropping to his lips. “Not a whole lot of places to do things like this in the ship.”

He grins. “No, especially not with the others there.” His thumb brushes over your clit, fingers starting to thrust into you once more. “I’m going to find us a safe place to stay.” He says, words broken by kisses as he trails them up your neck. “Build us a home with lots of privacy.” He kisses across your face to the corner of your lips. “So we can do this whenever we want.”

You hum, backing away from his lips before he can kiss you. “Usually I require a date first, but I’ll make an exception.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” He says, lips brushing yours as he speaks. “I promise.”

You close the small distance between you, pressing your lips to his. He kisses you softly, lips slightly chapped from the cold. His fingers continue to move inside you, curling to find that spot that has your legs shaking. His thumb circles your clit, bringing you closer and closer to sweet release.

You whine against his lips as you cum around his fingers, soaking his hand with your release. He pulls away from your lips, withdrawing his hand before he lifts his fingers, taking them into his mouth. You watch, slack-jawed as he sucks his fingers clean.

“Fuck buying me dinner,” You say, rolling around to face him. “If you’re gonna act like that you can skip all those steps.”

He laughs, rolling on top of you. It’s a mirror of the moment you first began to have feelings, when he’d saved your life. You suppose he also saved your life again in this situation. Perhaps he needs to save your life more often if it’s going to end with him on top of you.

He lowers himself down, pressing his lips to yours once more. You kiss him hard, tangling a hand in his hair. You’ve always wanted to touch it, always wanted to run your fingers through it, pull on it to see if it makes him moan. You file that away for another day.

He’s hard, pressed against your stomach. His hips rock against you, dragging his cock along your skin. You slide your hands down his back, grabbing a handful of his ass. You’ve always wanted to grab it, having spent way too much time memorizing the shape of his body. His broad shoulders and thin waist and round ass and thick thighs.

He really is the perfect man.

“Fuck,” He moans, pulling away from your lips to press himself up.

He’s away just long enough to line his cock up, your legs parting even wider for him. You both moan as he sinks into you, your sensitive walls fluttering around the intrusion. You pull him back against you, securing him tightly to your chest. His lips find yours again, kissing and biting as he begins to move.

His thrusts are slow, working you open for him. It feels better than you could ever imagine, better than your fantasies could come up with. You’re no longer cold, even your toes warmed by his body and his touch. The air in the cave even feels warm, the blizzard outside nothing compared to the fire ignited beneath your skin at Hunter’s touch.

You move your hips as he picks up speed, your bodies moving fluidly together. You let go, moaning as loud as you can. You don’t care if you accidentally wake some beast deep in the mountains. You want the whole galaxy to know how good Hunter makes you feel.

Hunter grunts and moans above you, snapping his hips into you. You cling onto him as you begin to feel the burning low in your stomach, the coil tightening more and more as you get closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me.” Hunter growls, nipping at your lower lip. “Let me feel you.”

You cry out his name as you cum, back arching in pleasure. He’s not far behind you, his head falling back as he stutters to a stop, filling you with his cum. You let him fall on top of you, wrapping your arms around him.

He lays there, both of you catching your breaths. He’s heavy, a solid weight, but you don’t complain. He’s warm, and he makes you feel safe. He kisses your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty skin. He groans, already starting to go hard inside you again.

***

You wake to a bright light in your eyes. You squint, ducking your head down under the blanket. Hunter groans, shifting his arms around you. It’s quiet outside, far quieter than it had been last night.

“Storms over.” Hunter rasps, not making any attempt to move.

He’s still inside you, his softened cock tucked inside your pussy. You’d fallen asleep after the third round, the exhaustion finally taking over after you were thoroughly warmed. You don’t really want to get up. You don’t really want to move. You know the others have to be worried, after all you hadn’t been able to contact them after the storm blew in. You’re not even sure how far you are from the Marauder.

It may be a bit selfish, but you wish you could stay here. Build yourselves a tiny home in this cave and never leave. Just the two of you, alone, like your fantasies had once consisted of.

You know it’s not possible now. You couldn’t abandon the others like that, and you could never convince Hunter to abandon Omega, not that you would ever want to. You’ll just have to find a place to build a big enough house for all of you.

“We should get up.” Hunter says, still not making any attempts to move. “The others will be worried.”

You hum, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Five more minutes?”

He chuckles, lifting your chin so he can kiss you. “I suppose five minutes won’t hurt anything.”

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#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #tbb hunter x reader #bad batch hunter x reader #x reader #clone thirsting

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