5875 words....

MY FORBIDDEN MATE

- a vampire x werewolf!au in which both you and yoongi refuse to believe that you're the other's mate despite being so drawn to each other; requested by TaesWolfie

Your shadow looks ominous underneath the yellow hue of the street lights; the small drops of rain that begin to fall do nothing but add to the heavy sense of danger surrounding you. Your steps slow to a stop, your shadow now surrounded by the violent blues and purples of the neon club in front of you.

A sinister smirk lifts the corner of your lips up, your eyes fluttering shut as the nearby scent of warm bodies and sweat makes the hair on the back of your neck stand with need and desire. Wasting not another second out in the cold, you strut your way to the bouncer situated at the door, sending him a suggestive wink as you simply brush past him.

As expected, the club is packed with people—some so intoxicated that they can barely even think for themselves and others here for a good time. Much like yourself, you note as you take a careful seat on a stool at the bar and order yourself a lightweight beer to start the long night off.

Of course, an impromptu trip to the club must have a purpose.

The night of your twenty-first birthday was a significant one. Not only were you finally reaching the age of independence and respect, but you were also reaching the point in your life where you would be welcomed into the many activities that your family take part in.

There's no doubt that this all sounds strange.

Since the early 15th century, your ancestors have held a secret that is still speculated in today's world. They are what's more commonly known as werewolves. Only very few believed in their existence but those who did sought out to hunt them down. They were successful in doing so but it was only after your ancestors had created a whole new generation of their kind.

Generation after generation, your pack have thrived and evolved into skilful beasts; capable of wrecking havoc all while staying hidden.

The Alpha of your pack is none other than your father; that then making your mother the Luna. Both are terribly feared within the pack but as your father says: with fear comes respect. You live by his words which brings you all the way back to the night of your birthday.

Everyone had left to return home when the night was so dark that not even the space in front of you was visible. Your mother had joined them, leaving just you and your father in the odd tranquility that the forest offered. He had clapped your shoulder affectionately, sighing wisely as you leaned into his touch.

"Y/N," he started, looking down at you proudly. "I know I've told you this countless times but I'm certain you'll do a splendid job at running the pack; like your mother."

Flattered, you had nodded, a blush of pride creeping up your neck.

"In fact, it wasn't fate that she fell into my life," he nostalgically states. "No, she was destined to be mine; destined to be Luna."

You knew by the wistful tone of his voice and the familiar, cloudy look in his eyes that you were in for a story, your lips already parted in awe as you made yourself comfortable against a log.

"It was when I had turned twenty-one myself when I first heard of the term 'mates.' It was new to me considering that, at my time, it was a pretty taboo thing to discuss," he chuckles, shaking his head fondly. "But I know that you are rather familiar with it."

You nodded enthusiastically, mentally thanking your mother for always gushing over the day you return home with a suitable mate to replace your father.

"Well, when I first laid eyes on your mother, I got a tingle down my spine. It was electrifying in a sense, the hairs in the back of my neck standing up in response. Then I felt my heart beat abnormally faster; the beat at a pace where it seemed like I had just run a lap in my wolf form."

You listen intently, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"I felt drawn to her in every aspect. I could not get her out of my mind, she was all I spoke about and I craved the feel of her close to me. It was then I realised—thanks to some help from family members—that she was my mate; forever to be loved by me."

He suddenly turned to you, eyes glistening with hope, expectancy and faith as your heart hammered in your chest, his fingers curling into your shoulders.

"If ever, at any point, you feel these things for someone else, don't fight it. Follow the feeling until it gives you your happily ever after."

You smile fondly at the memory and lift the bottle to your lips, savouring the burn of the beer as it runs down your throat, leaving an icy trail of fire in its wake. Your eyes—the colour of golden honey with streaks of molten lava—scan the crowd eagerly, licking your lips as you run your gaze over a few men that enter the bar.

Although, none of them give you the tingle you desire.

You've been on the search for the one since your father gave you that talk, your nights now being spent in various places around town; all with the hope that you'll somehow manage to run into them. Of course, there are the occasional thoughts of doubt—what if they're in another country or what if you don't meet them until later in life—but something about tonight and the way that the full moon seems to brighten up the sky more than the stars do has you feeling lucky about your chances.

Shaking your head, you press your lips into a thin line of determination and eye the door, occasionally taking a sip of the concoction that numbs your thoughts and rids you of your worries.

Just as you're about to give up, a young man walks through the door, the flashing lights of the club illuminating his gorgeously pale skin. Your lips part in awe as you shamelessly run your gaze over his figure, tongue darting out to moisten your lips as you find yourself attracted to his broad and angular bone structure and the way it contrasts with his short height.

Dragging your gaze back up, you admire his sharp jawline breathlessly, your thoughts dallying on the effortlessness of his style. He wears a pair of ripped jeans, donning a white tee that hugs him in all the right places. His hair—the ebony colour of it dark and most definitely enticing—is swept back, revealing only the tiniest bit of his milky white forehead.

Naturally, you're intimidated by this man and the aura he wears so confidently but you can't bring yourself to look away, breath occasionally hitching in your throat every time he comes close to looking in your direction.

Albeit, you aren't prepared for when he does manage to meet your gaze.

The man whips his head to you with a suddenness, his eyes burning into your own with an abrupt intensity. It registers in your subconscious that they clash spectacularly with his mop of vivid obsidian hair; the black of his pupil surrounded by a ring of jagged silver fire swallowed by sapphire blue—an almost bittersweet melody strung over the last rays of a summer sky.

His eyes are like the stars in the way they draw you in to explore the swirling emotion held in their depths. You notice with a gasp that those orbs of his don't capture light, but defy it; colour so blue that they literally glow.

And just like that, the hairs on the back of your neck stand, a delicious tingle running down your spine as your body reacts by springing a bunch of goosebumps onto your warm skin.

The man seems to feel it too, his back straightening as his eyes momentarily cloud over; his sinfully plump lips parting in confusion, eyebrows furrowing to convey the same emotion.

Instinctively, you press your hand against your chest, your fingers slowly shaking against your skin as you feel the erratic beat of your heart against your palm. The male simply watches silently, his movements halted as he stares at your hand intently.

The moments that follow are silent, your breathing becoming more shallow as his now darkened eyes lazily return to rest on yours; indecipherable emotions frustratedly turning those eyes of his into raging storms.

You're certain that this is exactly what your father was talking about; your every thought consumed by his presence even though the two of you have only shared risky stares, mind already claiming him as yours.

And judging by the look of realisation replacing his one of confusion, he's certain that you belong to him too.

You feel your chest tighten with need, hand clenching around the bottom of your dress as he licks at his lips suggestively, his lustful gaze dropping down to your legs before drifting back up your body at a painfully slow speed.

Then he cocks his head, signalling for you to come closer.

You swallow down the fear bubbling in your stomach and stand obediently, barely tearing your gaze away from his as you navigate the crowd with unnatural agility, hands trembling against your sides. You feel the air surrounding you become thicker with heat, beads of sweat kissing your skin ever so gently with every step you take towards him.

Your advances halt the minute you feel his warm breath fan the bridge of your nose, your eyes fluttering shut at the addictive shivers it continues to send down your spine. He ghosts his hand over your arm, his eyes lazily following the movement as your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes widening as they spring open to observe his actions.

He makes a sound of amusement as he drags his hand up your shoulder and to your neck, a puff of air falling from your lips when he squeezes your neck slightly, moving his cool hand to cup your cheek; his thumb's slow movements against your smooth skin bringing a soft smile to your face.

He's the one, you think to yourself. He just has to be for there's no-one else that can take my breath away by simply just existing; the tension growing between us unbearable. But what if he's not what I think he is?

Your thoughts are diminished when his lips—delightfully plump and the colour of a sweet blush—curl up into a small smile of greeting.

"Min Yoongi," is all he mutters, your eyebrows raising as your heart kicks itself into gear, the sound of the erratic pounding echoing in your ears. His voice is low, with an agreeable trace of huskiness and with a hint more power than his appearance would suggest. Coarse like fragmented rock in a hessian sack—moving and grinding against each other, his voice somehow compliments his ruddy complexion (which you've only just noticed upon getting a better look at him) and raised veins.

"Y/N," you return in a whisper, unable to trust your voice in keeping your need for him a secret. He hums in approval, taking another step closer as you glue your eyes to the way the skin around his neck vibrates with the sound, his scent of vanilla, rose and musk; the combination intoxicating you to the point where you can barely even think straight, your entire being devoted to him.

"You intrigue me," he mumbles, lowering his head so that his soft lips press against your earlobe. You instinctively press your palms against his chest, hands bunching up the material of his shirt, revealing the gorgeous white of his collarbone, your lips eager to mark it with the purple, red and blues of your love.

"It's risky to be doing things like this," he continues, dropping his voice into a low, seductive and suggestive whisper, a soft whimper involuntarily falling from your now parted lips, your head tilted to the side to give him more access to your neck. "But you've made me feel a million things in the span of about five minutes. Things that I'm hoping that you had the pleasure of feeling, too."

Your mouth dries at his words; each one sending a wave of pleasurable heat into your stomach. You squeeze your legs together in an attempt to stop the needy throbbing of your womanhood, your breathing now coming out in gentle pants. He smiles in satisfaction as he takes note of the effect he has on you, it taking everything in him not to find out what he could do to you if he takes it further, his hands itching to feel every inch of your body, tongue desperate to find out how sweet you taste.

Instead, he chooses to take it slow, his lips feeling like nothing but a soft breeze as he presses them to your jawline.

A pretty gasp flutters from your lips, his smile electrifying against your flesh. You expect more—you crave more—but he pulls away with a smirk, patiently awaiting your next move as you feel the burn his touches gave you fade from your skin.

You involuntarily take a step closer, his eyebrow arching up in amusement as you press a hand to his slightly exposed chest, your fingers tingling underneath the cool of his skin. He closes his eyes in a manner of desire, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip as you smugly drag your hand down his chest, slipping your slender fingers underneath the material of his shirt. He lets out a low moan, his hand immediately latching onto yours, your fingers stretching across his milky white skin as he flattens your palm against his chest.

"I want you to come home with me," he whispers huskily, eyes half cast as you gulp meekly, your fingers trembling in anticipation.

"Then let's go," you return breathlessly, fighting back your smile as you watch his eyes widen in surprise, his enticing orbs rimmed with the thorns of lust. With a single nod, he pulls your hand out of his shirt and wastes no time in interlocking your hands together, your heart childishly skipping a beat at the show of affection.

Although you're certain that the affection you'll be receiving shortly will be incomparable to anything else you've ever experienced.

So, as he skilfully leads you out of the club, you relish in the innocence of your physical connection; your shy smile and soft blush immediately catching his attention.

"I live a couple of minutes away," he mutters, subconsciously tugging you closer his side, hiding you from a group of clearly intoxicated men stumbling down the street with his slightly larger frame. You lean into his side, your cheek just hovering over his forearm as he hums mindlessly and turns left.

True to his word, it doesn't take long before the pair of you reach a sophisticated looking house; the design of it rather modern and expensive looking. You don't expect the place to be his; the large size of it seeming excessively large for just one person so when he leads you up the stairs of the porch, you can't help dropping your mouth in shock.

"You live here?" You ask in mild disbelief, dropping your head in apology when he shoots you an odd look. Only, when his lips stretch out into a soft grin, you can't help the pink that rises to your cheeks.

"Yeah, although I do think it's too big for just one," he muses, wording out your thoughts as if he could read them. "Hopefully, that can change."

The door swings open with an inviting creak, the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood warming up your cold fingers as it wraps around you pleasantly. Tilting his head—his soft tufts of hair following the action, he motions for you to go inside.

Politely slipping your shoes off, you obey his silent request and find yourself in admiration of the inside of his house. Your eyes wander freely, gaze running over all the polished surfaces, the bright white walls and his arrangement of furniture; the dark colour of them contrasting so well with the purity of the walls.

"Your place is wonderful," you mutter, aware of him standing behind you but too nervous to turn and greet him. You, instead, sink your teeth into your dry lip as he slips his hands onto your waist, humming gratefully at your comment.

"I'm glad you think so," he chuckles, squeezing your hips slightly as you flinch in surprise. "Now, there's something I must bring up before we continue on. You are, what some would say a fictional being, correct?"

You scoff at his subtle joke and nod, placing your now warm hands on top of his. "I'm presuming you are one of these beings as well. I have a question of my own."

"Go on," he mutters just after nodding to your presumption. You turn yourself around, pushing yourself onto the balls of your feet so that your lips hover in front of his. His lips part in response, tongue dipping out to seductively moisten them.

"What exactly are we to each other?"

You know the answer. A part of you just wants to hear him say it in that deep, husky and most definitely sinful voice of his.

"Well, my dear," he whispers, his breath fanning your upper lip gently, "it would only make sense to say that you are my mate. After all, I don't think I've ever wanted someone so bad. I can't help myself from thinking about you even when you're standing right in front of me. It's getting harder to keep my hands off you."

That's all it takes for you to cup his soft cheeks and connect your lips with his, the abrupt action taking him by surprise.

But it's only for a few agonisingly slow moments.

He takes control of the kiss, flattening his tongue against your lips as they part instinctively, allowing him to explore your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut, lips feeling numb, deliciously numb, as your hands entangle themselves in his hair, his own hands resting possessively on your hips.

He moans against your lips, his hands dragging across your tingling skin until they reach your thighs. Caressing them slowly as you squirm, he feels your fingers tug at his hair, a hum of approval vibrating out from his throat before he can stop it. Tugging once more, you smile as he pinches the skin of your thighs in warning before patting them, signalling for you to jump.

Obeying, you gasp in surprise when his sturdy hands grip onto your thighs, the movements of his lips against your own more ferocious now that he has a better angle. You squeeze him against your body, your ankles hooking together as he carelessly shoves you up against a wall.

Your hands fall from his hair, fingers clumsily tugging at the collar of his shirt, a silent plea for him to take it off. Breathlessly, he pulls away from you, the colour of his eyes so dark that they almost look black. His gaze holds you as its prisoner, distracting you from the way his pretty hands slowly unbutton the soft material of his shirt.

Soon enough, your desperate yet lazy gaze drops down to the unmarked skin of his now fully exposed chest, his hands trembling as he pulls at the revealing shirt you have on. Suddenly feeling a sensual heat prick at your skin, you shrug his hands off and take the obstructing material off, tossing it to the floor.

A wave of cool runs itself over your arms refreshingly, your lips parted as you pant, head thrown back against the wall. Smirking, he runs his hands down your side slowly before slipping them around your back, skilfully unclipping your lacy, black bra. Your cheeks flush a dark red at the realisation of being so exposed in front of him.

"So beautiful," he murmurs huskily, eyes wide as he allows them to admire the shape and feel of your body. The pair of you make eye contact for only a split second but it's enough to send a bolt of hot electricity down your spines. Feeling empowered, Yoongi grunts, holding your firmly against him as he makes his way to what you assume is his room, the sound of the door being kicked open making you shudder.

You cling onto him, unsure of what he's going to do next or where you're going to be touched next.

You get your answer in no time, your back hitting the soft material of his bed as he drops you, his gaze hungry as he crawls on top of you. Your breath hitches in your throat as he lightly presses his lips against your neck. Gulping, you tilt your head to the side, begging him for more. He happily obliges, licking a wet stripe up your neck as you whimper, wasting no time in nipping and sucking at your neck.

You dig your nails into his shoulder blades, certain that his little flowers of purple and blue—while still utterly gorgeous—will be nothing compared to his mate's mark. He kisses down your chest, staring at your breasts greedily. You whine at the intensity of his stare and involuntarily begin squirming, your pants feeling too tight as you feel your core heat up.

He cups one of your breasts in his hand and begins massaging, the way his fingers curl around it making you groan, your back arching into his touch. He hums against your warm flesh and begins marking more of the empty canvas that is your skin, his target now being the area surrounding your other breast.

"Y-yoongi," you stutter in a whine. "Please."

He growls—the sound making the knot in your stomach tighten—as his hands angrily pull at the material of your pants. Understanding what he wants, you quickly remove the material from your legs and motion for him to do the same. Grinning, he follows your request and, in no time, the pair of you are left in your underwear.

He presses a thumb against your clothed core, your hiss spurring him on as he begins to rub slow circles over the damp patch on your underwear. A pretty moan falls from your swollen lips, your neck throbbing as you crave the feel of his teeth sinking into your skin, his bite bonding the two of you together officially.

"I need, ah, I need your mark," you growl, locking eyes with him as he flicks his blue irises to you in curiosity, the speed of his thumb quickening ever so slightly. He offers you an urgent nod, finally leaving your sore core to rest as he pulls you by your legs so that your bottom half hangs off the bed.

"It's going to hurt," he mumbles carefully, pressing a feather light kiss to your jawline as you pant, your fingers curling around his sheets. He continues his trail of burning kisses until they reach your pulse, the intoxicating beat of your pulse beating against his soft lips. His eyes flutter shut; arousal growing as your natural scent of vanilla sends pleasant tingles down his arms.

Carefully, he parts his lips, his teeth stretching out into long fangs as you squeeze your eyes shut, your neck tilted to the side in submission to the authority that radiates off him in raging waves. He lowers himself, breath dangerously close as you prepare yourself for the sting.

Only, it isn't as painful as it should be.

Two pinpricks against your neck—almost needle like—is all that comes from Yoongi as his lips eventually meet your skin. You furrow your brows together, eyes springing open as he continues to supposedly suck against your skin.

This isn't right! He's supposed to bite like a wolf.

"Yoongi," you try, struggling to sit up against the strong hold he has on your chest. He doesn't listen as you try to calm your worries and assure yourself that he's doing what he's supposed to. After all, it feels addictively sweet; the way his tongue swipes away at your blood while his lips and teeth stay locked into place making you weak and light headed with pleasure.

It doesn't take long for him to pull away, his eyes clouded over with euphoria as he flattens his tongue against your bite, fangs retracting into his gums. Immediately, your fingers press against your new mark, mouth falling open in a hiss as you feel around the two holes, an odd feeling making your stomach churn.

"Does it hurt, dear?" He questions, clicking his tongue in disapproval. You whimper as he presses the gentlest of kisses to your mark, his eyes gleaming with adoration, affection and lust. "Shall we continue?"

You hold up a hand, politely asking him to wait as you slide off the bed, weakly trudging your way to the mirror he has hanging on the wall. Yoongi follows after you in concern, his hands warm as he rests them on your hips, chest pressed into your bare back.

Nervously, you tilt your head, wincing as your wavering gaze lands on the two, bloody dots on your neck; the area surrounding it a vibrant shade of purple, mixed in with gorgeous shades of blues.

You should feel elated, but a realisation has your stomach churning with absolute dread.

"Isn't it pretty, Y/N?" He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as you recoil away from his touch. He frowns at this, the look of confusion making his otherwise stunning features twist negatively.

"What are you, Yoongi?" You whisper, your hands trembling as you attempt to cover your chest. His lips jut out in a pout, his head tilting to the side as you ignore the ache of your heart and the need to bring him into your arms.

"I thought it was quite obvious. A vampire," he sighs, lips twitching as you gasp in disbelief, "Why?"

"Shit," you whisper, throat constricting as he squeezes your shoulders in concern, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. "This can't be happening. How is this happening?"

"Darling, I can't help you if you don't talk to me. What's wrong?" He presses, searching your face worriedly as if it will magically give him the answer to all his questions. You shroud away from his stare, your hands trembling violently as he wastes no time in grabbing onto them and bringing them to his lips.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

"I'm a fucking werewolf, that's what's wrong," you snap, wrenching out his hold as you press your hands to your head, sinking to your knees on the cold tiles. The dread that fills you is indescribable, your blood turning to ice as your thoughts darken with all the possibilities of what could happen from here on; all the trouble you could run into just because your mate is a vampire.

Yoongi matches your dread with his expression, his lips parted in frustration as his hand tugs at his locks, eyes darkened with a look that can only be described as loss. He suddenly snaps out of his trance, wordlessly leaving you to drown in your thoughts in his bathroom, tears welling up in  your eyes; the stinging of it much better than the ache of your heart.

Like a token of normality, Yoongi crouches down in front of you, a black T-shirt held out towards you invitingly. Offering him a tearful yet grateful smile, you accept the shirt and slip it over your head, pulling your knees up to your chest and leaning against the cool wall.

He sits himself beside you, being mindful towards keeping his distance. Only, you can't take the lack of warmth and shuffle closer to him, hesitantly laying your head on his shoulder. He smiles at the innocent action, resting his head on top of yours in response.

"This is bad," he points out, gently grabbing onto your hand to try and comfort you. You nod wordlessly, your bite—his mark—throbbing at the feel of his touch.

"It'd be impossible for us to be together," you mumble, your voice thick and heavy with emotion. He stiffens at your words, gulping nervously as you cuddle closer towards him.

"Yet we're destined for each other," he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief as you let out a soft laugh, squeezing his hand out of habit.

It's no secret that vampires and werewolves simply don't get along. While some have put all the historical drama behind them, there are few that still hold grudges against the so called blood sucking fiends. Your family is one of those that still hold sour feelings towards what happened. They told you all the stories, warned you of their ways and even taught you how to defend yourself against them.

But Yoongi isn't anything like those you've been warned about.

He's kind, gentle, caring and all those other things that vampires are not supposed to be. Thinking of him now, you flick your gaze towards him in the mirror, your eyes softening at the sight of him.

"We can't exactly run away from each other," you whisper, meeting his gaze in the reflection with a tight lipped smile. He brings your hand up to his lips once again, pressing butterfly kisses to your knuckles.

"I know," he whispers back, closing his eyes as he keeps your knuckles pressed against his warm lips. "What do we do?"

"Stay as far away as we can from each other," you deadpan, casting him a look of apology, longing and sadness. "It's the only way we can avoid starting something up."

"Will it work?" He mumbles. "I don't ever think I'll be able to get you off my mind."

"Try," you plead. "I don't want you getting hurt over this. It'll be much worse than just avoiding each other."

"Okay," he murmurs dejectedly, sniffling as he tries to hide the fact that he's crying. "As long as it makes you happy and safe."

"Thank you, Yoongi," you smile, pressing your lips to his cheek. "I won't forget that I'm yours."

Your small joke seems to lighten the mood, but you find yourself holding a deeper meaning to the sentence; your bite aching and throbbing as you tearfully make your way home.

Away from your destiny.

*

His fingertips—warm and soft—trail down your skin, his touch leaving the most delicious of feelings behind. His lips attack your neck at a steady pace, decorating your neck with his love. Your breathy moans are all that can be heard as your arch your back, skin damp with a thin layer of sweat as your bare chests touch. He pulls away, midnight blue eyes heavy with lust as he runs his tongue over those plump lips of his, manoeuvring himself so that his face in right in between your legs; breath fanning your heat—

"Y/N, are you alright?" Your father asks curiously, his eyes swimming with a gentle concern. Offering him an apologetic laugh, you nod quickly, instinctively pulling your turtle neck up further over your neck, the bite mark aching with need.

"Were you saying something?" You inquire, hoping that your erotic daydream wasn't distracting you from an important conversation. He shakes his head slowly, eyeing you strangely as your shoulders sag in relief. Pressing your lips into a tight line, you push yourself out of your chair and run your hands through your hair.

"I'm going to go for a run," You mutter, moving slowly towards the door in case he opposes the idea. When he doesn't do anything but remind you to be careful, you gratefully open the door and step out into the refreshing breeze.

Sighing, you tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut as your turtle neck slides down your neck, exposing your bite to the soft rays of sun; the feel of it kissing healing spots on your neck calming beyond means. You stretch your arms over your head, lips lifting up into a small smile as your mind clears blissfully, making space for wanted thoughts to bloom.

Only, much to your dismay, these thoughts once again revolve around Yoongi; your smile widening despite your desire to push all thoughts of him away.

Allowing the thought of him to bring energy into you, you tie your hair up into a ponytail and break out into a light jog, taking a route that leads you directly into the forest. The silence of the forest unnerves you, a sense of uneasiness making your stomach churn uncomfortably. Furrowing your brows together, you slow yourself down, your heightened senses on full alert as you scan your surroundings.

Something seems off.

You turn just as a hand lands on your shoulder, teeth bared in an intimidating snarl as the owner of the hand clutches onto their chest dramatically. Confused, you look up to meet pale, blue eyes, your heart leaping your chest as you sigh in relief and drop your threatening facade.

"Yoongi, what the fuck are you doing here?" You hiss, leaning into his touch despite your instinct telling you to shy away from it. His dull eyes sparkle with a little hint of life as yours darken with concern, his appearance messy, unorganised and a great clue as to how these past few weeks have been for him.

Hell; just like they were for you.

"I couldn't handle it anymore," he whispers, his voice hoarse and raspy, fingers gently brushing over your skin as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You involuntarily shiver, taking subconscious steps towards him as he smiles in relief at your actions.

"I don't know if I should be pissed or grateful," you mumble quietly, resting your forehead against his chest affectionately. He chuckles to himself as presses a hand to the back of your head, sifting his fingers through your hair.

"Be grateful," he jokes. "I'm risking my life for you, Y/N."

"I know," you sigh solemnly, snaking your arms around his waist securely. "I don't want you to leave me again."

"I don't think I could," he mumbles honestly, pressing a noticeable kiss against your head. "I'm promising you here, in this moment, that no matter what happens, I'll always protect you, I'll always love you and I'll always make sure that you are happy."

His words confirm something that you knew a long time ago; something that you should've owned up to the day you let him mark your neck.

"I love you," you whisper, leaning up to press your lips to his as he smiles into the kiss, his left hand resting on your hip as the fingertips of his other hand ghost over your bite mark; the very thing that claims you as his.