#beta pack my fucking beloved

[b0yds]

vernon was the only one in the hale pack that looked into being a werewolf and asked questions before he decided to accept the bite. isaac and erica both needed immediate escapes but he considered his options. he did the best research he could (when derek is talking about chaining them up and spirals, he’s the only one who has an idea of what he’s talking about). even still, he wasn’t prepared for the reality of it, not by derek. scott tried to help him but he had already made the choice to turn by then. once he made his choice, he never went back on it, and he was willing to die for it to begin with.

but it’s never said exactly how derek found boyd, though. did he find him at the ice rink? did erica or isaac tell derek about boyd? either way, it isn’t them or derek who makes boyd’s decision to be bitten. it’s scott. from the beginning, boyd has wanted to emulate scott. not for his power, not for his status as captain, but because scott had a group of people who naturally gravitated towards him and boyd wanted that and had no idea how to go about it. 

[loganbcrnes]

Mine

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x female!reader

Tags/Warnings: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Rough Sex, Dom/sub, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Logan (X-Men), Feral Behavior, Rut Sex, mention of frank castle, Explicit Sexual Content, Breeding, Impregnation, Marking, Blow Jobs, Logan has a big cock, and hes very hairy yes, Reader-Insert Authors note: originally posted this on my ao3, but decided to just upload the full one-shot here as well. link. Not beta'ed and no description of reader Summary: Logan unexpectedly goes into rut and you're there to help him through it.

You had no idea what you were anticipating when Logan came home from work. Before he left in the morning, he was acting stranger than normal. His temper was short, his motions were labored, and he wasn’t himself. His scent was also stronger than normal. It didn’t take you long to realize something was wrong, the bond felt stronger between you two like it was during the war and before you even began to make lunch, you received a text from your Logan.

Logan: I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I think I’m in rut.

This caught you by surprise. Most alphas these days didn’t get ruts and omegas didn’t get heats either. Just like they’re becoming rarer as time goes by. it’s sad really, back before the war, before Hydra - you were able to go into heat. You always spent it alone back in the 30s, you even got time off from your part-time job as a nurse when you were temporarily staying in Ireland. Logan could go into ruts too before Project X. during the war you both would help each other out, which led to you both bonding until the train mission fucked all of that up.

But now it’s 2021, over 70 years have gone by and 3 years since The Snap. You are forever thankful that both you and Logan survived it. You don’t know what you would have done if your beloved alpha was taken away from you once again. Since then you both decided to get a nice cabin in the mountains to get away from everything. You both were done fighting, tired of constantly losing people you loved. 

Logan got a job in construction in town about an hour away. So he didn’t usually come home until around 6 pm. You were thankful when you got the news that Frank Castle and his pack of alphas were moving a few miles away from your cabin a few months ago. You know it can get isolated in this area, so to have friends that you consider family to come and visit was nice.

There was no time to think about the next course of action though, it was clear what you had to do and something you thought you wouldn’t ever do again. Logan would be back in about half an hour, which gave you time to set up the room and go for a nice shower. 

You immediately went into one of the cupboards in your walk-in wardrobe for blankets. Logan didn’t necessarily like making nests, he always said and his quote: “ya’ don’t need to make those things no more lady, you use your alpha.” in his deep gruff tone. So you resorted to cuddling at least 2 times a day instead and he would fuck you into the mattress just how like it every time. 

Once you got a mattress onto the floor with a ton of blankets and pillows littered onto it, you went into the bathroom and stripped down. You cleaned up and once you were done, you slipped on a white silky nightie that reached down to your thighs. After that you got some nice cold water bottles to put beside the nest. As you were done you heard the door click open.

Logan could smell you before he even got out of his truck. His heightened senses were even more sensitive and he could smell just how wet you already were. All he could think about was knot, breed, mate- over and over as he got closer to the door.

It was rather embarrassing when he started to sweat and get a hard-on on his lunch break. He didn’t understand at first, but then recognized the symptoms to be a rut. Thankfully Frank was there to get him to leave, but damn did that hurt his ego a little.

Once he entered he was hit again with your strong scent. It was so sweet, sweeter than usual that he was beginning to think that maybe his rut could trigger your heat. He sure hoped so. Your scent was a mixture of roses and strawberries, he used to hate strawberries before he met you, but now it’s one of his favourite fruits.

You looked up from your iPad as Logan walked in and put down his backpack. “Hey,” you said as you got up, but were cut off by a squeak when he immediately jumped you. He picked you up by your thighs, making his way to your bedroom, his lips never leaving your neck. He nipped and sucked little bruises into your soft flesh. He put you down gently onto the mattress and started groping your breasts. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day, Darlin’”. Logan growls as he starts kissing down the valley between your breasts. He pulled back and slipped off your nightie, revealing your breasts and wet cunt. You blushed and looked away, but your alpha immediately notices. “Hey, no looking away from your alpha now,” Logan says as he grips your jaw to look back at him. 

“Sorry, Alpha” you shyly say. Logan only grunts back in reply as he stares down at you. You grip at his clothes, “off, please” you whine at him. Logan immediately starts to strip down, you stare at his glorious beefy body as he takes off his pleated shirt and jeans. Your eyes traveled the trail of hair down to his already hard cock. You lick your lips wanting to taste so badly. 

Logan notices as smirks, he leans back down to press his lips against yours, just as a whimper escapes through your lips, giving you a smoldering kiss which leaves you breathless within seconds, distracting you as he continues to run his hand up and down the curves of your body, getting closer to your sensitive parts.

You are gasping for breath when he pulls away, and in your complete haze, you watch him as he slowly climbs down your body, his lips never leaving your skin as he trails his hot kisses on you all the way down. He parts your legs further so he could get more comfortable between them, then when he presses a kiss at your nether lips, his fingers parting your folds so he could find your slick entrance and give a long, hungry lick right at where your desire is centered until you cry out. “Taste so fucking sweet ‘mega”. Logan growls as he licks your clit. You hear him moan and you open your eyes to look down at him, to see that his eyes are closed, totally blissed out as he sucks on your cunt, licking your entrance. You feel the hard tips of Logan’s fingers right at your opening, you moan when you feel two fingers parting your hot pussy, your walls instantly begin spasming around them, sucking them inside your depth.

“So hot, baby,” Logan growls, his warm breath falling on your sensitive folds as he whispers between the kisses he is giving you right at your heated core. “I’ve wanted to taste you since I could smell your sweet scent before I even got outta my car.”

You can’t think straight, you’re totally blissed out and your mind is filled with alphalphabreedmatealphabreed constantly, you reckon he has triggered your heat, but you don’t even realize and neither does he. His cock is stiff and swollen, you notice the center of his length has a bulge, showing that his knot is starting to form.  Your cheeks begin to heat up realizing that you’re doing this to your alpha. 

You go deeper and deeper into submission, surrendering yourself to your alpha, letting him know he can use you however he wants. Logan feels everything you feel, your bond is so strong that it’s overwhelming for the both of you. 

He continues to tease you with his fingers for a few more seconds and then the warm rasp of his tongue sends a series of shivers trembling through your body. He licks across your sensitive bud leisurely, biding his time with his eyes on you to take in every single reaction you are giving him through every lick, every swirl of his tongue. He has never seen anything so beautiful. He flicks his tongue from around your clit, down to your slit, moving back and forth as he continues to plunge his fingers into you. You begin to shake as you are nearing the edge.

He must have felt it, because he continues to lick at your cunt, slick pouring out as he slurps it all up, growls deeply against your pussy. “Come for me, little mate.”

You let out a whimper at his command but feel helpless to resist him. You can’t hold it in anymore as you come to your release. “Alpha!”. You moan out as you arch your back, Logan continues to milk through your orgasm and makes sure to gather every drop of cum.

Once you come down from your high, Logan pulls back and climbs up the bed kneeling right beside your head. Keeping one hand at your chin, he raises your head up as he uses the other hand to pump his cock, aiming the crown tip on your swollen lips. “Go and put your pretty mouth to use, Darlin’,” Logan says. A drop of pre-cum leaks from the slit, making you drool at the taste, while the heady scent of his cock fills your senses as you breathe him in.

You eagerly nod, barely catching a breath from your strong orgasm, he slips his cock through your open mouth, wanting to satisfy your alpha.

Groaning, Logan reaches down and squeezes your nipple as he thrust in and out of your mouth with almost the same force he would use if he is deep inside your pussy. 

“Love these tits of yours baby, love to see them jiggle when I fuck your tight cunt” Logan continues to grope your tits as he dirty talks. He thrusts into your mouth hard and you moan at his words, cheeks reddened at how dirty he’s making you feel.

You suck the entire length of him each time, loving the feel of the head of his cock at the back of your throat. Using his other hand, Logan grabs onto your hair, keeping you steady as he plunges deeper inside your mouth, pummelling deep into your throat each time he reaches to the brim.

His heavy balls filled with seed, slaps against your chin, loving the sensation and feeling dirty all at the same time. You dig your nails into his thigh with one hand and into the sheets with the other, holding on tightly as your lover uses your mouth for his pleasure. “So fucking good, baby. Always taking my fat cock so well. Look at you choking on it” Logan rambles as he thrusts into your mouth. He groans as you suck hard. You continue to choke as his knot is forming. 

Logan’s cock falls out of your mouth with a pop. The spasms of your climax remain. You close your eyes trying to catch your breath. You feel movement and blankets being moved on the mattress. After a few minutes, you feel a hand caress your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ears. You open your eyes to see Logan, his pupils are dilated to the point you only almost only see black. “You okay, Honey?” Logan asked. He leans down to press soft kisses to your cheeks and down to your neck. You hum as you lean into his touch, “Want you now Lo”. you said, “please knot me, need it so bad”. 

You’re a whimpering mess now, grinding your clit against Logan’s muscular thigh. Logan growls as he pulls back, he grabs a hold of your hips, flipping you over so that you're laying with your chest pushed flush against the mattress, legs bent, and the knees with your ass and pussy on full display. Your smell consumes him; all that he can think about is the taste of your arousal on his lips and how badly he needs to be inside you now.

His long fingers trace your slit as arousal floods from your entrance, coating your slick on his fingertips. Anticipation pangs at your chest as you wait for his next move. Everything in him wants to drive his hardened cock into you and knot you full of his seed.

Logan’s eyes screwed shut as he brings a finger up to his mouth, basking in the taste of you. A wanton moan erupts from his lips at the taste – so perfectly sweet he would never be able to get enough.

Dire thoughts rush through your mind as you rest on your elbows, face turned to the side to try and see Logan out of your peripheral vision. His pupils are completely blown, eyes focused only on your center as his chest heaves in anticipation. “Please Alpha, breed me, I’m ready,” you say to him. 

Logan is always less talkative during sex and now that he’s in his rut and possibly gone feral, his mind is screaming to him to knot and breed your tight cunt, to the point he can’t form words.

His hand is quick to line himself up with your entrance, grasping onto your hips with such pressure that it is sure to leave bruises tomorrow, even with your fast healing. Sharp fingernails dig into your skin as his tip meets your entrance. It’s fiery and red, inflamed and veins popping out alongside his length from how hard he is. The precum that leaks from his tip coat your slit, combining with the wetness dripping down your thighs to create a delicious mixture.

One last reassuring squeeze of your side is all he gives before pushing into you ruggedly. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he makes his way into your core, feeling the familiar sensation you felt back during the war. His size is bigger, so much thicker and longer than his normal length when he is not in rut. It’s a lot to take in at once, and he’s trying his best to let you relax as your body adjusts to his size. 

“You can move,” you say, lip caught between your teeth as your walls stretch further around him.

With your fists grasping for the sheets, Logan begins thrusting his hips slowly into you– holding out a second each time he bottoms out to let you breathe. His nails only dig into your sides further, barely giving him a grip onto reality to hold back his animalistic instincts.

Deep grunts leave his mouth as he tries to hold himself back, but he can feel his humanity slipping further and further away with each clench of your pussy. His heavy balls slap against your clit.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he bares his teeth, “need to breed you now.”

You moan out loud “please, please alpha, need you to fill me up with your pups” you continue to beg him. 

Quickly, his hips snap into yours, his thick muscles flexing as he holds your body steady, fucking into you deeply. Breath is sucked out of you as his pace increases; stars forming at the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, mouth salivating at the increasing pleasure bestowing upon you. His length is a lot to get used to again, even though Logan tried to avoid knotting you back then because you both didn’t have enough time, there were times when he would sneak into your sleeping quarters to knot you in the middle of the night, his hand pressed against your mouth to reduce your loud moans as he thrusts his large cock into you; but the everlasting pressure against your g-spot was making the pain melt away.

Logan thrusts in and out of your pussy effortlessly, your slick coating his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your velvety walls. With each thrust, he bottoms out, and it becomes difficult for you to remain upright. Limbs shaking from pleasure, your elbows begin to give way, landing you flat against the mattress.

Your mouth opens, but the only thing able to escape is a silent scream, too immersed in the feeling of him battering your walls and hitting your cervix to make a sound. A loud moan leaves your lips as he pulls you back up, his arms wrapping around your waist to use all his strength to hold you in position. His sweaty hairy chest is pressed flush against your back, the heat radiating off his body soothing you as his mouth meets your ear. A quick nip is placed on your earlobe as he catches it between his teeth.

“Taking me so well.”

He says in his deep voice. The praise quickly soothes your nerves, helping you relax into him as he holds your body close, closer than you had ever felt to him before. His tip is repeatedly hitting against the sensitive spot deep inside of you, you know he’s not ready to let up just yet, but you’re too on edge to hold on.

“Logan I-I’m gonna–”

“I can smell it,” he groans, mouth meeting your bond mark as he sucks harshly on it. 

A string of cuss words falls from your lips as your eyes clamp shut, relishing in your release as your pussy spasms around his cock. His movements don’t slow either – his pace is still erratic, plummeting into you at an ungodly rate.

Feeling your release over him only makes him thrust harder, deeper. It sends him into a full-blown frenzy, unable to keep himself from chasing his high. “Smells so sweet, gonna breed you, Baby, have you pumped up with my pups. Gonna look so sexy with your tits filled with milk and your pregnant belly.” he rambles, the more he talks dirty the closer you get to the edge. 

And you knew what this meant. You both finally have a chance to have children. Something you have always wanted when you first got together with Logan. Before meeting him, you never had high hopes to find a man and have a child or two. You were insecure and no one wanted a 26-year-old virgin omega. Especially since omegas were looked down upon back then.

But that time is over now, you're with the love of your life 70+ years into the future and everything you have ever wanted is here right now.

“God, do it, Logan, please knot me,” the words slip between cries, still shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, “Breed me.”

So he does.

His eyes slam shut as his mouth finds the crook of your neck, breaking the flesh as his sharp teeth sink into your skin, reclaiming you once again. Screams blow past your lips as blood begins to trickle from the wound on your shoulder. Your chest tightens in pain, loving and hating the sensation all at once. Relief takes over once his tongue meets the small incisions made on your skin, his saliva filling the holes and alleviating the wounds as he licks up the blood.

“That’s it ‘mega. Doing so good for me. So perfect.”

Your heart flutters at his claim, have never felt as close to him as you do right now. Firecrackers lit through your veins, the connection between you and Logan binding stronger than ever and you couldn’t be happier. It felt like you were floating in thin air. Your body is unable to focus on any pain right now, you’re too blissed out from the shock of him reclaiming you to notice how his cock is beginning to swell inside of you.

Cum shoots out of his member, filling you up to the brim until your abdomen begins to feel heavy and swell. That floating feeling quickly begins to fade as his orgasm keeps coming and coming, no inch of your insides gone untouched by his seed. It seems like it's never going to end, and you can feel the pressure from his release building and building inside of you. Your sensitive walls stretch as his cock expands, your body doing the job it’s supposed to; knotting to plug you up and make sure none of his cum drips out.

“Logan,” you whine, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock continues to inflate inside of you, “Logan it kinda hurts.”

“Shhh It’s almost over, baby,” he comforts you, stroking your hair before guiding you onto your side, laying behind you. After such a rough round, his familiar touch eases your pain. The light kisses he places along your spine let you sink back into him, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips instead of the balloon-sized cock stretching your vagina. Gentle hands trace circles up and down your arms as you listen to the sound of his calming breath. His chest heaves as he tries to come down from the adrenaline rush.

Soft kisses soon turn into small licks running over the length of your back as you lay there, still speared on his cock. Now that his animalistic needs were met, it was all about you.

“What are you doing?” you frown slightly.

“Cleaning you up,” he answers calmly, his even more heightened senses finding nothing strange with this new method of aftercare. You’re too immersed in your thoughts to question him any further; if this is what his alpha side was telling him to do then so be it.

As Logan’s knot begins to subdue he doesn’t let go. His tongue soothes over the spot of his mark, all red, but could see the bond mark more visible than it was before. 

“Do you really think this will work?” you ask Logan. You don’t know what you will do with yourself if you aren’t able to get pregnant by this. “It will trust me, Darlin’. And if it doesn’t, we’ll try again and again until it does,” he says as he kisses your shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful, I’m so happy you’re mine after all these years.”

Butterflies flutter in your tummy as a smile stretches across your face. All you want to do right now is to turn around and kiss him, so you do. His face is just as bright as yours when you meet his eyes. His hair is messy and his skin is shining with perspiration, but he looks handsome as ever. He welcomes your kiss like he’s been waiting for it all day. Mouth chasing after your lips, capturing them in a quick kiss before pulling away.

It's the first time he’s seen your eyes since you’ve gotten home, and even then he couldn’t appreciate them as he could now. There's a different glow that he didn’t notice before. Maybe it's because he’s reclaimed you and knotted you after all these years, but he is willing to do anything and everything for you.

“I love you,” you sigh, pressing your palm to his cheek. He looks so innocent now, the blackness in his eyes now faded back to the hazel color you love so much. All the years and pain he’s been through, disappeared. 

“And I love that you’re mine.”

[pycth]

The Shaw Pack Wedding 🕊️

(Ft. My beloved @angelicaether ‘s Angel and David)

Hot Boy Honeymoon event on the Sky Side server~

This time the theme is weddings and honeymoons in honor of the pack wedding!

The things that audio made me feel was SICK I LOVED IT SO MUCH

Here’s my quick notes it—

Nothing will ever take me out quicker than Asher’s “I’m gonna be a husband!” It’s been on loop in my head since the video came out and it’s never going away

The listeners silence will never not be funny to me, I’m sorry—lowkey wish Sam was a part of the mate car tho, could’ve gotten wolf time too pleasee

Y’all heard Milo’s inner Lasko slip out there when talking about being nervous with Sam right lmaoo

Hey so fuck you David for that beautiful speech you gave Ash, I’m literally rolling on the floor choking and sobbing (It was actually his vows to Asher, if you wanted to him instead should’ve just said so /pos) that “more words” part was actually very real and hit too hard

I’m too much of a sucker for when any of the wolf boys hug

“We still got enough time for me to beat your ass and get you cleaned back up, Beta-boy” quoted at least once a day

Milo’s voice crack when he tells Asher ”I love you too, asshole, come here.” MY BOYSSS 😭

Also fuck you too Milo for the Gabe quote

More silence, but the crying and whimpers from both of them in the background please be still my heart

WE’RE MARRIEDDD‼️

Bonus of Angel and Baaabe’s vows written by Aether and yours truly—

[bloodibambiidoll]

The First Time I Saw You

Summary: You and your girlfriend have some fun with Eddie in his van after one of Corroded Coffins shows. (This is the prequel to my fic See You Again, it can be read as a standalone and it doesn’t really matter what order you read them in if you do want to read both.)Wk:6.5k

Warnings: M/F/F threesome, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, hand job, like one use of “sir”, a little spanking, reader is in an established queer relationship with my OC, Dom/sub dynamics, switch!eddie, sub!reader, Dom!OC, choking, spit kink, hair pulling, van sex.18+MNDI!!

A/N: Omg okay, I finally finished this. I’ve had it half done for like 5 months and today I got this random spark to get it done!! Thank you to my beloved @babygorewhore @bimbobaggins69 & @reidsbtch for beta reading this baby for me. Divider is @firefly-graphics. Moodboard.

“I’m just going to go ask him if he wants to.” Chloe has a determined look in her eyes as she looks at the metal head across the bar having an after show drink with his friends.

“Chloe! You can’t just walk up to him and ask him if he wants to fool around with us. What if he thinks we’re creepy?”

“Baby…” She grabs your face in her hands, her blue eyes are filled with soft reassurance but also authority. “He is not going to think that. If two hot babes walked up to you and just straight up asked you if you were down to fuck what would you do?”

Your eyebrows shoot up and your eyes widen as you imagine yourself in that scenario.

“Damn… I guess you’re right, I’d go crazy if that happened to me…” You bit your lip, your eyes glazing over as you imagined yourself and Chloe with another woman. Or even two.

“I’m always right.” Her voice snapped you out of your slight trance. “I’m going to talk to him, do you want to stay here or do you want to come with me?”

She gave you the option, knowing how nervous you can be sometimes, letting you know without saying it that she understands if you want to wait here for her.

“I feel like it would look kinda weird if I just sat over here… I’ll go with you.” You shrugged, letting her pull you up by your hand and guide you across the bar to the table where he and his friends sat.

When you approached they all stopped talking at once, surprise evident on their faces.

“Hello boys. Eddie, may we have a word?” She barely even spared his bandmates a glance as she stared directly at him.

“Uh- Yeah, totally.” His voice shook a little as he spoke, like he was nervous.

“Cool.” She smiled at him before turning on her heel and walking towards the back door of the bar where they had a small smoking area. Her hand is still in yours, pulling you behind her.

Eddie stares after you in shock for a moment, shaking his head to make sure he isn’t dreaming. He takes a deep breath before getting up from the table to follow you outside.

Chloe leans against the wall, pulling her packs of cigarettes out of her purse and lighting one. Seconds later Eddie comes walking out the door, looking a little flustered.

“Want one?” Chloe shook her pack at him with a smirk.

“Yeah, thanks.” He went to grab one but she pulled it back before he could. Taking one from the pack herself and holding it up to his lips expectantly. He obliges, taking the stick between his lips, shivering at the feeling of her soft fingers against his skin.

She pulls the lighter from her back pocket, holding it up to his cigarette to light it. When he inhales his cheeks hallow a bit and you could just barely make out a dust of pink across them. You wanted to lick his face, if you were being honest with yourself. You couldn’t stop thinking about how good he might taste, probably salty from sweating on stage, the thought made your thighs clench.

Chloe throws her arm around your shoulder, drawing you close to her side with Eddie less than a foot in front of you.

“How did you know my name?” He asked curiously, not necessarily addressing either one of you but looking between you both.

“You only yell it every time you play a show.” Chloe chuckled, playfully rolling her eyes.

“Damn. I guess you’re right. I don’t know your names though…”

“I’m Chloe… and this is my Angel of a girlfriend.” She says your name so sweetly, like you’re her grandest prize.

“I’ve uh- seen you guys around at a few shows, I’ve been meaning to introduce myself and thank you guys for always coming out. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course Eddie, I really do like your guys’ music, I remember the first show I came to a few months back I was blown away by your covers but when you played that first original song? The one with all the D&D references? I was shocked that you weren’t already famous. It was almost like it was a whole campaign worth of story packed into a few minutes.”

You spoke for the first time and Eddie almost pinched himself. You, the girl he’s been trying to find the courage to talk to for weeks are not only talking to him but you’re talking about music. His music and how you understood it. He didn’t even feel bad in that moment for trying to think of any possible way he could steal you from your girlfriend. He was pretty sure he was in love with you now.

“Wow. You really noticed that? I don’t think anyone outside of my friend group has really picked up on that, and if they have, they didn’t say anything. That’s awesome, thank you…” He was fully blushing now and he tried to hide it with a drag off his cigarette.

“She’s very observant, aren’t you baby? Especially if there’s a hot boy involved.”

Eddie stood there trying to formulate a response with eyes the size of saucers.

He looks between you and Chloe, her with a Cheshire Cat grin and you with a giggly nervous one. He was trying to wrap his mind around why you were talking to him, where you fucking with him?

“Don’t look so surprised honey, you’re hot, beautiful even.” Chloe’s voice is saccharine and dripping with lust. The compliment isn’t even directed at you and she still manages to make you feel flustered.

“Me?” He points both pointer fingers towards himself, as if there’s anyone else out there besides the three of you.

“Yeah, you. Who else?” You look at him, biting your lip to hold in a laugh.

“Oh! Well thank you… You’re uh - you’re really beautiful too, both of you.” He takes the final drag of his cigarette with shaky hands, stomping it out with his boot.

“You’re really cute when you’re nervous, did you know that?” Your girlfriend’s icy blue eyes drink Eddie in hungrily, her tongue running along her plush bottom lip.

“I have a question, well, we have a question for you.” Chloe’s boldness has always been a turn on for you, the way she sees something she wants and always gets it, drives you crazy. If it were up to you, you’d both be staring at Eddie from across the bar still. She really does complete you, in every way.

“Yeah you can uh, you can ask me anything.” His voice sounded breathless already and all you’ve done is give him a few base level compliments. You couldn’t believe you built him up to be this untouchable sex god and here he is adorably fumbling over his words.

“You wanna fool around with us? In your van maybe?” She said it like it was the most casual question in the world.

“Wha-? Do I wanna - What? Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, sweetie.”

She smirked at him as she approached him, closing the distance between them.

Eddie’s eyes went wide and his breathing picked up. His heart was beating so fast he was scared you could hear it from a few feet away. Chloe brings her hand up to cup his cheek, running her thumb along his bottom lip, spreading the spit around that had collected there from him nervously licking it.

She was pleasantly surprised when he took the digit into his mouth, wrapping his lips around it and swirling his tongue.

“Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun.”

•

That’s how you found yourself giggling with your girlfriend and Eddie Munson as you climbed into the back of his 1971 Chevrolet Beauville. It was surprisingly clean, which you assumed was partly due to the fact that all the gear he must normally store back here was all still inside. There were a few pillows and blankets stacked in one corner and he hastily spread them out for you.

As soon as he sat down next to you Chloe was crawling into his lap, straddling him.

“You gonna be a good boy for me? I’ll only let you play with my girl if you’re good.” She snakes both of her hands into his hair and tugs, causing him to let out a groan that went straight between your legs.

“Yeah I’ll uh - I’ll be good, promise.” He nodded the best he could with your girlfriend's hands still tangled in his hair and you felt the wetness in your panties grow as you watched him submit to her so easily.

“Good. Kiss her.” Chloe uses her grip on his hair to turn his head toward you before releasing it.

You turn your head to meet his and eagerly smash your lips together. His lips are soft and he tastes like the cigarette he just smoked and the beer he was drinking earlier but there was something else there that was just him and you wanted more. You turn your body towards him so you can throw your leg over Chloe’s and press your pussy against his thigh. Your hand comes up between them to rest on his chest and you subconsciously start to grind against him. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you immediately grant him access, the taste of him enhancing tenfold.

“Baby.” Your girlfriend’s voice causes you to break the kiss and look at her immediately, always eager to please her, always her girl good. “Why don’t you take your panties off and sit on Eddie’s lap?”

Eddie’s eyes roll back and he nearly chokes at the thought of you in his lap. You nod eagerly and Chloe slides off of him so you can switch places with her. You crawl into his lap, your wet pussy pressing directly against his hard cock causing you to let out a breathy moan.

“Hi Eddie.” You look at him almost innocently but your hips grind down on him sinfully and he wants to fucking eat you alive. But he also wants to be respectful of the dynamic you have with your girl. He wanted to be good for her, wanted to hear her say those two words again… good boy. He never thought he would be into something like that but the way Chloe looks at him and talks to him makes him want to do whatever she says.

“Hey princess, you’re so pretty.” He brings his hands up to cup your face, running his thumbs along your cheeks as he looks at you almost lovingly and it makes your head spin.

Before you have time to process his gentleness you feel Chloe’s hand wrap around your throat from behind, pulling your head back towards her.

“Now, I didn’t give you permission to kiss him, did I baby?” Her voice is almost a growl and makes you subconsciously grind down on Eddie again, causing him to throw his head back and moan.

“No - no - you didn’t. I’m sorry.” You whimpered, feeling your head starting to go fuzzy for her already.

“That’s okay, I’ll let it slide just this once, because I know you're excited. Now be a good girl for me and bend over.” She releases your neck, pushing you by your back so your chest is flush against Eddie and your ass is in the air. She lands a harsh smack on your left cheek causing you to jerk forward and yelp.

Her fingers easily sliding through your slick lips and over your already sensitive clit.

“Mmm baby girl, you’re so wet for us already, you’re practically dripping and we’ve barely even started. This slutty little pussy is just so desperate huh?” Without warning she shoves two fingers knuckle deep inside you, they slip in and she hooks her fingers, finding that spot inside you that makes you go crazy with ease.

You push back against her fingers, your bare clit rubbing against the rough material of Eddie’s jeans causing you to let out a moan that makes him feel like he’s going to bust before he even has his cock out.

“Can I kiss Eddie now, please please? I promise I’ll be sooo mmmm - so good. FUCK!” Chloe’s fingers pick up speed, your hips meeting every thrust and your clit dragging deliciously against the metal head underneath you. You feel yourself getting close already, your hips subconsciously grind back, fucking yourself harder against her fingers. You're about to tip over the edge when she pulls her fingers from you, causing you to whine at the loss.

“Don’t be greedy, baby. I’m gonna let you cum. Eventually.” Her hand comes down on your ass again and you full on moan this time, desperate for anything. “Why don’t you scoot down and suck Eddie off while I eat this pretty pussy? Bet you’d like that huh?”

“Uh huh - yes please…” you lift your head from Eddie’s chest so you can look into his big brown eyes. He’s giving you this look like he wants to eat you alive but there’s a hint of nervousness underlying there and you want to wash it away. “Would you like that Eddie? Want me to suck you off?”

“You have no fucking idea how badly I want that, sweetheart…” He bites his lip, his eyes roaming your face, tits, neck. He wants to mark you all over. He wants to bend you over and rail you into the floor of his van but he also wants to be respectful of the dynamic you have with your girlfriend. He’s never done this with two girls before and he really doesn’t want to fuck it up.

You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere in the van behind you. Eddie’s eyes look like they’re literally going to pop out of his head when he sees that you aren’t wearing a bra, your bare tits now on display. He just wants to latch onto a nipple and never stop sucking.

“Take this stuff off, I wanna see you…” You tug on his jacket and battle vest, then pull on the front of his band tee. A pout set on your lips. You don’t have time to enjoy the show though because you’re being pulled by your ankles down Eddie’s body. Your bare nipples rub against the rough denim of his jeans and you moan at the feeling.Chloe tugs on you until your face level with the metal heads crotch, and then she grabs you by the hips, hiking your ass in the air. You barely have time to process her movements before she licks from your clit and up your slit, slipping her tongue between your wet folds.

“Oh fuuuuck.” You moan as you look up Eddie, his top half is now bare. He has tattoos on his chest, black ink against alabaster skin, his hair is already a slight mess, and he’s panting as he watches your girlfriend devour you from behind. Your fingers reach for his belt buckle, undoing it with ease, then you make quick work of his button and zipper. You tug on his waistband and he helps you pull his pants over his ass by lifting his hips. When his cock springs free it hits his bare stomach and you can’t hold in your gasp at the sight of him.

He’s huge. Thick and long. There’s a bead of precum dripping from his tip and he’s so hard it almost looks painful. You hold eye contact with him while you spit on your hand before taking his shaft in your now slick palm. You stroke him gently a few times before taking his head in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The moan that leaves him is one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard and you want to hear him do it again and again so you take more of him in your mouth, still using your hand to stroke what isn’t being devoured by your lips and tongue.

Chloe takes your clit in her mouth and sucks hard, her tongue flicking against the bud. You feel two of her fingers circle your entrance before she’s inserting them back inside you, pulling a loud moan from you. Eddie throws his head back at the feeling of your mouth vibrating around him. You take the rest of him in your mouth, your nose nestled against the patch of coarse hair at the base of his cock.

“Oh fuck - fuck - sweetheart, oh god.” He throws his head back against the back of the driver's seat, exposing the long expanse of his neck. You want to cover him in bruises so he won’t be able to forget about you for weeks.

He glances down at you. Drool is dripping from the sides of your mouth and onto his balls and you’re looking up at him through your lashes. You aren’t moving your head but you’re swirling your tongue around his shaft and he swears If you don’t let him breathe in a second he’s going to bust down your throat. You pull off of him with a pop, much to his relief.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna - fucking cum.” Eddie watches as your eyes roll in the back of your head before your face falls forward onto his bare stomach. Your hands grab onto his sides, your nails digging into his skin deliciously. He looks up at Chloe and she’s already staring at him with a glint in her eyes. Her face is still buried in between your legs and she’s sucking on your clit like her life depends on it. She curls her fingers just right and that’s all it takes. She feels your walls tighten around her digits and a loud moan leaves your lips. You shove your hips against her face as hard as you can, chasing every last second of your high. He’s pretty sure he could cum just fucking watching this.

“Good fucking girl, that’s my good girl.” She sits up, rubbing her hand over the globes of your ass, soothing you as you come back down to earth. She leans over you and brings the fingers that were inside you to Eddie’s lips. “Open up, pretty boy.”

You raise your head just in time to watch him take her fingers into her mouth, his plush pink lips wrapping around her slender slick covered digits. He moans at the taste of you and it causes you to whimper. God they’re both so hot.

You feel her weight lift off of you and raise your head from Eddie’s stomach, looking over your shoulder at her. You watch her crawl forward and snake her fingers into Eddie’s curly mane, pulling his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. You watch the way his thick ringed fingers wrap around her plush hips through her ripped jean shorts and it makes you clench your thighs. She’s wearing too many clothes for your liking. Chloe is always first and foremost a giver, to the point that she often forgets about herself. But you never forget.

You push yourself up on your knees so you can come up behind her and rest your hands on top of Eddie’s. You push her cherry red hair to the side and place sloppy wet kisses along the column of her throat. You hear gaspy little muffled moans leaving her lips as Eddie continues to devour her mouth with his own. You snake your hands around her waist, reaching for her studded belt, you unbuckle it as your kisses start to travel down her tank top strap covered shoulder. You undo her shorts the rest of the way so you can shove your hand down the front of them, your fingers easily finding her slick lips. You gather her wetness before bringing the tips of your digits to her clit, circling it.

“Oh my god, baby girl, yes.” She throws her head back against your shoulder as you insert two fingers inside her, your palm grinding down on her clit as you thrust them inside her.

Eddie pushes her cut up band tee over her chest, revealing her also braless tits. God, you guys were going to fucking kill him. They were so nice it took him a second to do more than stare. You couldn’t blame him, your girlfriend's tits were one of your favorite parts of her. Chloe has big tits, there’s no other way to say it. They’re supple and she has great nipples and you could suck on them for hours. After a second he breaks from his trance, roughly taking them in his large hands. He pinches her already hard nipples between his fingers and it causes her to whine. One of your favorite sounds.

“Spit.” She holds her hand in front of your mouth and you oblige, letting a string of spit fall into her palm. She brings it to Eddie’s cock, immediately jerking him off hard and fast. A loud groan rips through him as he leans forward and takes one of her nipples in his mouth.

You shove her shorts down her hips and she helps you kick them off her boot covered feet. Your hand finds her center again, plunging two fingers deep inside her while your palm continues its assault on her clit. She’s still jerking Eddie off and he’s mouthing all over her tits, leaving them covered in his spit. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. You curl your fingers against her g-spot and bring your lips to suck on that spot on her neck you know drives her crazy.

“Fuck- oh my fucking goddd! Yeah, you guys are so good for me, you’re gonna make me fucking cum.” Chloe pants and her hips start to move in tandem with your hand, the hand she’s jerking Eddie off with is merely holding onto his shaft now and you can feel her walls clench around you.

“Please cum for me, I’ll be so so good for you, I just want you to cum. You’re so pretty when you cum.” You’re pathetically begging for her to fall apart for you but you don’t even care, you just want to make her feel good.

“Ohmyfuckinggod - I’m cumming!!” Her hips pick up speed and her arm shoots out behind her to grab onto your hair, pulling it while her walls spasm around your fingers. You fuck them into her until she grabs your wrist and uses it to pull your fingers from her core. Eddie reaches over to grab your hand, greedily sucking her juices from you. “I think I wanna ride you now, pretty boy. What do you say?”

“Oh god, fucking yes please.” His voice is needy and desperate and you want to bottle it up and listen to it on repeat on a rainy day.

You watch as Chloe throws her leg over his thighs so she can straddle his lap, her bare cunt making contact with his shaft. They both moan in unison at the feeling, her hips move back and forth to glide her slick lips along his cock. You watch as she raises up to her knees, she takes him in her hand and lines him up with her entrance. Chloe isn’t one to be slow, with anything really, so she immediately slams all the way down on his cock. Grinding her hips flush against him.

“Holy fucking shit, oh my god - fuck - you feel so good.” He grabs handfuls of her thick ass as she grinds down on him, her tits swaying deliciously in his face. Then she starts bouncing, hard and fast. You watch the way her pussy sucks him in over and over again, and whimper at the sight. You can see a milky ring of your girlfriend’s arousal around the base of Eddie’s cock and you find yourself wanting to lick it. But his jeans are in the way, so you make quick work of his boots, pulling them off along with his jeans.

“Shit - thank you sweetheart - ohmyfuck!” Eddie lets out a loud moan when you lean forward and lick across his balls. You take one into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before repeating the action on the other side. You swirl your tongue along his sack before licking up to where him and Chloe are connected. Both their moans increase when they feel your tongue wrap around the back of Eddie’s shaft, licking at your girlfriend’s milky cum.

“Oh baby girl, fuck that feels so good.” Chloe moans when you slip your tongue inside her along Eddie’s cock, fucking it into her a few times. “Come up here though, wanna see your pretty face when I cum.”

You crawl over to her, sitting on your knees beside her. She takes your face in her hands, kissing you roughly, moaning at the taste of herself on your tongue.

“Give Eddie a kiss too baby.” She grabs the hair at the nape of your neck, using her grip to turn your face toward Eddie. He grabs your face in his hands, slamming his lips against yours. He immediately swipes his tongue against your bottom lip and you intertwine it with yours. Chloe is still riding him like her life depends on it, causing him to moan into your mouth. “You should choke her Eddie, you can be rough with her if you want, that’s okay with me.”

If that wasn’t music to his fucking ears. He’s wanted to just grab you and fucking take you this entire time, your submissive demeanor was driving him insane. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up, but now that he didn’t have to? Fuck. He was going to wreck you.

“You want that baby? Want me to be rough with you?” He grabs your jaw in his hand, pinching your cheeks together. The look in his eyes was different now, more feral.

“God, yes.” He takes the chance immediately, the hand on your jaw coming down to squeeze your throat just right. “I want you to use me Eddie.”

“That’s so fucking hot.” Chloe moans, picking up the pace of her thrusts on Eddie’s cock.

“I still haven’t gotten my hands on this pussy, take your skirt off for me, princess.” He groans when he feels Chloe’s pussy clench around him, releasing your throat so you can throw off your skirt and shoes. When you return to his side his fingers glide down your body, between your tits, over your mound. He slides them between your legs, gathering your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for us. I wanna make you cum.” He cups your pussy, thrusting his palm against your clit. The tips of his fingers dip into your dripping hole every few thrusts but never go fully inside you. You're so wet his hand is practically gliding against you and it’s making noises you’d be embarrassed of if you weren’t so turned on. “You want my fingers baby?”

“Uh huh - yeah please, sir.” Your eyes are wide and glassy, the name slipping out of you almost subconsciously. Eddie nearly cums at the sound. Chloe is still riding him like it’s her job, one of her hands in his hair, tugging it deliciously. Her other hand reaches out to replace Eddie’s around your throat and your eyes roll back.

“I think you can cum like this though, don’t you? I think I want the next thing inside you to be my cock.” His palm speeds up against your pussy, determined to pull an orgasm from you and Chloe both. He hopes he isn’t talking out of his ass though, because he’s honestly trying so hard not to bust his load right now.

“I think he’s right baby, I think you’re such a desperate little slut you can get off just from grinding on Eddie’s palm.” Chloe uses her grip on your throat to pull your face close to hers, her signature Cheshire grin painted across her lips.

Eddie plants his feet on the floor of the van, using his free hand to grip onto Chloe’s ass as he starts to meet her erratic thrusts. You can tell she’s getting close when her mouth falls open and her eyes roll back. Her grip on her throat tightens and she’s letting out those whiny moans that she only lets slip when she’s about to cum. You bring your hand between their bodies so you can rub circles on her clit. It only takes a few seconds before she’s tipping over the edge. Her walls clench around Eddie’s cock, her hand on your throat still cutting off your air supply in the most perfectly delicious way. Eddie’s using every ounce of strength he has not to cum right now, his hand still thrusting in tandem with your hips. He leans forward and bites into your shoulder and the feeling sends you over the edge. Your whole body tenses, your legs clamping shut on his hand and you reach out to grab onto his forearm so you don’t fall over.

“Oh fuck - I’m gonna-“ Eddie can’t hold it anymore, everything feels so good, you’re both so fucking hot he’s felt like he was going to bust since you first walked up to him in the bar. But then suddenly Chloe is pulling off of him. His cock slips from her warm walls and his release is taken with it.

“Not yet, pretty boy. Don’t you wanna fuck my girls pretty little pussy too? She’s so desperate for it. Look at her.” Chloe grabs your jaw roughly and you whimper, you still have Eddie’s hand clamped between your legs and there’s drool dripping from the side of your mouth. Your chest rises and falls rapidly and your lips are kiss swollen, your mascara running lightly. Eddie wanted to fucking ruin you.

“Fuck, you know I do. You want that, angel face? Want me to fuck you?” He teases your entrance with his fingers again, dipping his fingertips just barely inside before pulling his hand away entirely.

“Please.” You whimper.

“Be a good girl for us and get on your hands and knees.” Chloe squishes your cheeks together, shaking your head from side to side before releasing you from her grip. Eddie grabs one of the pillows and drops in in front of you, the sweet gesture despite the fact that you know he’s about to fucking rail the shit out of you warms your insides in a different way. You place your knees on the pillow, resting your hands on the blanket underneath you. You arch your back so your ass is in the air and you hear two seperate groans behind you.

“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.” Eddie growls, coming up behind you on his knees and roughly grabbing your hips in his big hands.

“Baby, come lay in front of me, I wanna taste you.” You whine, patting the space in front of you on the ground. Chloe chuckles at your neediness, coming around to lay on her back in front of you. She spreads her legs and it’s your turn to groan. She’s so wet, the moonlight shining through the dusty van windows makes it glisten. Eddie runs his cock through your folds as you lean down to place wet kisses on her inner thighs. You lay your lower half down flat so you can hook your arms around her legs. You look into her blue eyes as you spit on her pussy, sticking your tongue out to lick a stripe up her slit before swirling it around her clit.

“Fuck yes baby.” She groans, her fingers lace through your hair and tug your face closer to her so she can grind against your outstretched tongue.

Eddie pushes the head of his cock inside of you and pulls it out a few times, teasing you. You push your hips back against him and are met with a harsh smack on your ass. The metal of his rings stings in the best way and you moan into Chloe’s pussy, the vibrations sending her eyes to the back of her head.

“I was trying to take my time a little, but since you wanna be greedy about it…” He shoves his cock all the way inside you in one rough thrust. He grabs onto your ass, grinding his hips against your own while he is nestled deep inside you. The stretch felt so good, you’re so wet and needy it almost felt like your pussy was sucking him in. He pulls out slowly before slamming back into you roughly, and then he does it again, and again, and again. Each thrust nearly knocks the wind out of you, you whimper and moan against your girlfriend’s wet cunt, driving her insane.

“Oh fuuuuuck, your pussy is sucking me in baby girl. You feel so fucking good.” He picks up speed then, his hips smack against yours and your pussy is so wet you can hear his cock slipping in and out of you. It feels so fucking good you can hardly focus on eating Chloe out anymore. Your tongue is hanging from your mouth while she uses your hair as leverage to thrust against it.

“Yeah baby, keep your tongue out for me. Let us use you.” She pulls your hair harder, her hips eagerly rutting against your mouth.

One of Eddie’s hands snakes between your legs to find your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. He’s fucking you so fast and deep, hitting your g-spot over and over again.

“I’m gonna fucking - shit - I’m gonna fucking cum ohmygod.” Chloe’s thrusts against your face become erratic and you know what she needs, even in your fucked our state. You wrap your lips around her clit and suck as she continues to grind against you, it only takes a few seconds for her back to be arching off the ground, her legs clamping shut around your head. She whines as she humps against your face, riding out her high. She pushes your head off of her when it becomes too much. “Okay, fuck sensitive.”

You release her clit from your lips, pushing up on your hands again while Eddie continues to fuck you like a man possessed. He gathers your hair in his hand, turning it into a makeshift ponytail and using it to pull your back flush against his chest.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck, oh god, Eddie! You’re so deep, feels so - so good.” Eddie can tell you’re getting close by the way you’re babbling and your pussy is clenching around him. “Choke me Eddie.”

He releases the grip on your hair to grab onto your throat instead, applying the perfect amount of pressure that has your vision just the right amount of hazy. He’s still fucking you so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if the slapping of your hips was echoing through the entire parking lot.

“You guys look so fucking sexy, damn.” Chloe is propped up on her elbows now, watching as Eddie pushes you closer to the edge on his cock. She comes over to you, taking your face in her hands and kissing you passionately. She kisses down your jaw, stopping to run her tongue along Eddie’s fingers that are around your throat, she kisses all over your tits, licking and sucking your nipples. She continues her descent down your body, before leaning down to take your clit into her mouth. She swirls her tongue at the exact time that Eddie hits that perfect spot inside you and it has you seeing stars.

“I’m cumming! I’m fucking cumming!” Your body shakes in Eddie’s hold and your pussy is gripping him so tight he can’t take it anymore, cumming right along with you. He pumps into you while you both ride out your highs, filling you with his cum.

He pulls out of you slowly, holding onto your hips so you don’t fall forward.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You let out a deep breath, letting yourself fall onto the blanket on your back.

“Yeah. Holy shit.” Eddie chuckles as he lowers himself down beside you.

“Jesus fucking Christ, holy shit, is right. That was amazing.” Chloe beams, laying down on her side facing you. She cups your jaw in her hand, leaning down to kiss you gently. “You did so good baby, you were such a good girl for us. Was it all you dreamed of?”

“Wait!” Eddie’s head whips towards you, his eyes wide. “You dreamed about this?”

“Oh pretty boy, you have no idea how long we’ve been fantasizing about you. Her longer than me. She’s been rubbing it out to the thought of you since the first time she saw you.” Chloe chuckles and you playfully smack her arm.

“Chloe! Shut up!!!” You feel your insides warm with embarrassment.

“Honestly? That’s so fucking hot, angel face, and pretty funny too. Considering I’ve been jerking off to the thought of you too.” He gives you this goofiest lopsided smile that calms your nerves. “I honestly felt like a little bit of a creep. Especially once you started bringing Chloe around, I felt like a perverted douche thinking about you guys together.”

“Psh!! If you’re a perv then so are we! We’ve literally talked about you while we were fucking, you’re good.” You giggle.

“Yeah, well I guess we are just a bunch of pervs then.” Eddie giggles along with you and Chloe smiles. She thinks you guys are cute, really cute. She kind of wants to keep Eddie around.

“Hey pretty boy, do you think we could see you again sometime?” She smirks at him, hopeful.

“Fuck. You know I’d say yes in an instant… but I’m actually leaving next week, this was our last show before our first tour. We got signed!” Eddie never thought he would be sad about that fact, until this moment.

“Oh Eddie!! That’s so awesome!! I’m so proud of you guys! I knew you could do it!” You give him that sweet smile that melts his heart, and he can’t help but lean in and kiss you. You return it happily.

“That’s fucking dope dude, you guys deserve that shit!” Chloe raises her hand to high five him, he returns it happily before grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it.

“Thanks, pretty girl.” He smirks at her, and she blushes. She tries to cover it up with a scoff and a roll of her eyes, but you saw it.

“Wanna get a celebratory breakfast with us at least? There’s a 24 hour diner around the corner.” You smile at him hopefully.

“I’d love to, my lady.” He smiles at you sweetly, and your heart melts.

The three of you spend hours at the diner, laughing and talking, getting to know each other. It’s almost bittersweet how well you all get along. It makes you wish you had spoken to him sooner. But who knows, maybe one day when Eddie Munson is rich and famous, you’ll see him again.

Tag list: @taintedcigs @nailbatanddungeon @melodymunson @sunnythespookyghost @keeksandgigz @tlclick73 @eddiesxangel @imyourdaninow @gravedigginbbydoll @take-everything-you-can

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @/wintaerbaer (edited 2024: crossed out but not removed bc even tho she plagiarized obs afterward, she did beta this for me so i guess i still gotta give her that lmfao) for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere. 

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house. 

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married. 

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great. 

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here. 

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met. 

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky. 

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace. 

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground. 

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks. 

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go. 

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time  [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him  [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back.  [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.”  You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement. 

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him. 

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him.  His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening. 

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 24, 2023]

[freelancearsonist]

in shades of gray and candlelight

➔ Marcus Pike x fem!Reader - 7.2k

➔ Nothing good starts in a getaway car, but you sure do have fun delaying the inevitable.

➔ Rated MA for artist!reader my beloved (reader is able-bodied, basic female anatomy and feminine pronouns used, reader is described as having hair that is long enough to be put up but otherwise she’s a blank slate), unprotected p in v sex, cum swallowing, creampie, semi-public sex acts, oral (r + m receiving), handjobs, fingering, very light switchy dom/sub dynamics, a couple spanks, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, baby, honey), heavy praise kink, light size kink, consent king!marcus, just like the song it does not end happily [please let me know if i missed any at all :)]

➔ this is my (first 😈) submission to @beskarandblasters Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge! i really did mean for this to be a drabble especially since i didn't know anything about marcus before receiving this prompt but he has my whole fucking heart and mind now 😩 thank you so much for the challenge lovely kel, and special thank u to my baby @fhatbhabie for betaing and screaming with me ily <3 (dividers by the amazing and talented @saradika-graphics)

You meet Marcus Pike on a Friday night and it’s obvious from the start that he’s going to change your life forever.

He looks a little disheveled when he enters the gallery–brown hair ruffled and standing up in places, tie loose, top shirt button undone. There’s an alluring five o’clock shadow burgeoning across his jaw and cheeks. He looks like he’s had a long day, and it’s only going to get longer. It’s all part of the plan, of course. He’s supposed to look like a standard blue collar worker, and he pulls it off with ease.

It’s the exhibition’s opening night, so it’s a little more packed than the gallery normally would be. It works in his favor–he’s able to collect a plastic cup of champagne from the refreshment table and blend seamlessly into the crowd.

His eyes are diligent as they scan the faces that come and go. He tries to commit them all to memory–the tall woman with the slight limp, the short guy wearing the Hawaiian patterned shirt. There’s dozens of people that pass by, and so many of them are forgettable. It’s exhibitions like these that make him dread undercover work.

The art on the walls isn’t exceptional, but it’s not bad. Nothing that seems worth stealing, that’s for sure. But his source is good, and his source said that this place was getting hit tonight. So he keeps his watchful eyes vigilant and pretends to sip the champagne in his hand.

Until he finds your exhibit.

There’s a depth to your art that he’s come to be familiar with–something he sees often in work of high value. Anyone can make abstract art, it’s as simple as flicking paint at a canvas. But few can charge it as emotionally as you have. To convey feeling and passion and heart through abstraction is a separate art form all its own, and it’s one you’ve mastered.

He’s seen original Rothko’s, Van Gogh’s, Kandinsky’s; he’s held their frames in his own two hands. But nothing’s ever made his breath hitch in his throat quite the way yours does.

He stands in front of a canvas simply labeled “Waves In Motion” with your name printed neatly underneath, brow creased with a concentration that seems a little unnecessary given the subject matter of the painting. It’s all shades of blue and violet, swirling together in a way that seems partly sensuous, partly violent. It makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he takes a step closer. That’s when he notices it: a single dot of red paint right in the middle, a focal point of all the swirling cobalts. So small that he wouldn’t notice it if he wasn’t close; so small it could almost be interpreted as a mistake.

But he knows without having to ask that it’s not an answer. He wonders who that dot represents: you, the artist? Most likely.

Without meaning to, he smiles. It’s been a long time, years really, since a piece of art provoked such thought. 

“Hi.”

The voice Marcus hears next to him is soft, dulcet. He doesn’t turn to the noise quickly–from the tone in that word alone he senses a hesitance, as if you’re a fawn that’s lost its mother and you’re bound to run if he makes any sudden movements.

And, truth be told, part of him thinks he might not be able to look away even if he tried right now. There’s something so beautiful about this painting–and underneath, something so ominous. There’s an air about the work that says he might unlock the secrets of the universe if he just keeps looking.

“Hi there.” He keeps his eyes trained on “Waves In Motion” as he responds–playing the game. He’s here to brush shoulders, after all; to be the right amount of forgettable yet memorable. 

“This is my best, I think,” you murmur while taking a step closer. “It took the least time of all of them, surprisingly. But… I think when you know exactly what you’re trying to convey, it just comes to you easily.”

“These are yours?” There’s admiration in his eyes and an air of something akin to disbelief in his voice as he takes in the group of canvases proudly displayed on the plain white gallery walls.

And then he turns and lets himself take you in. More specifically the curling strand of hair that falls out of your updo to frame your face, the deeply plunging neckline of your dress, the way your calf muscles work even standing still in your high-heeled shoes. You’re a work of art in your own right; the most beautiful piece he’s seen in a long time.

“Yeah.” You duck your head–shyly, modestly–and he’s hooked. There’s one thing in this building that deserves awe and reverence more than your painting, and it’s you. “You know, you’re only the second person who’s come over tonight.”

“No way. They’re all just working their way back here,” he whispers before he can calculate a more articulate response.

But it works in his favor–your giggle is gorgeous, if a sound can be described that way. Sweet and syrupy, it seeps over him as if he’s standing under a cracked honeycomb. He hasn’t actually taken a drink of his champagne, and yet he can feel his nervous system tingling. You’re just that intoxicating.

“The gallery closes in half an hour,” you tell him–a little wistfully at that. “In my defense, I don’t have any family or friends in the area. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to show, not with so many other talented artists here.”

It seems so indignantly unfair to Marcus. That you’re shoved into the far back corner of the gallery, that people haven’t come in droves from all over the country to see your work.

“Where are you from?” He asks as his mind finally starts to clear from the haze it’s been in the past few minutes. With only half an hour left on the job, he allows himself a small sip of the drink that he’s been cradling all night.

“New York. This is actually only my second exhibition,” you explain, and you almost sound shy about it; as if you need to be embarrassed about being young and fresh-faced in the art industry, as if you aren’t the most talented artist Marcus has ever met in person.

He hums in response, eyes unconsciously dragging over you once more. “You came a long way for this.”

You smile so prettily up at him, and in that moment he sees something in your eyes. He can’t describe it–maybe it’s something akin to longing. Something incomplete, unexplored. It’s familiar; it’s the red dot from your painting. Solitary amidst the swirling, lost yet not hopeless.

And just like your painting, he finds himself wanting to get lost in your eyes.

“Well, it’s not every day a gallery wants to host you,” you say after another sip of your drink. “Plus, I’ve never been to Texas before, and I needed a change of scenery.”

There’s something so charming, so boyishly intoxicating about the smile he graces you with. “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s hotter than I’m used to,” you say with a chuckle that he echoes. “And I haven’t been able to do any exploring yet, my flight only got in a couple hours before I had to be here.”

“That’s a shame,” he hums in a tone that reveals deeper meaning. “How long are you here for? Do you have any plans?”

“A week,” you murmur. Subconsciously he leans in closer, on the edge of his proverbial seat. To seal the deal, you lean in too. “And not a damned one.”

There’s no air between you and Marcus. You exist in a vacuum for this moment–unable to breathe, choking on anticipation. He’s so close, yet way too far away. You want to be consumed by him–for him to be swirling blue; and you, a single speck of red in his midst.

The moment shatters with an audible sound–a deep, penetrating voice. “He’s still not here, huh? I don’t think your boyfriend’s coming. If he even exists.” There’s something strange in the raspy voice that drawls these words–something strange enough to immediately put Marcus on the alert.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion into your vacuum, but you recover quickly. You have to, because this intrusive stranger is standing way too close and has way too much alcohol on his breath.

And then something strange happens–you worm your arm around Marcus’s waist and press yourself firmly into his side.

“Actually, he’s right here,” you say. There’s a quality to your voice that wasn’t there before when you were just talking to Marcus–it’s firm, clipped, bordering on hostile. “He just got held up at work. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Thankfully, Marcus has always been one to think quickly on his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, unconsciously moving an inch or two in front of you. Protecting without really meaning to. “I’m sorry, honey. I got here as soon as I could.”

The man–burly and balding, probably a good twenty years older than you–scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

“Is there a problem here?” Marcus draws up to his full height–towering a good few inches over this strange intruder.

Whoever this guy is, he’s not completely stupid. He senses this isn’t going to be a fight he’ll win, so he backs off. “Not at all, man. Just didn’t want little miss standing here all alone the whole night.”

“Thanks,” you say with bitter reprehension. You wind even closer to Marcus–closer than this sudden farce demands. “But we’re fine now.”

He nods once–curt and unhappy, but seemingly satisfied that he’s not going to get what he wants. “Have a good night, ma’am. Sir.”

Marcus takes a mental inventory of the man as he storms off, committing his physical description and his outfit to memory. He doesn’t look like a casual art viewer, and he doesn’t look like a collector. He’s exactly the type that Marcus came here to look out for.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as you step out of Marcus’s personal space. “He’s been hovering all night, asking me who I’m going home with and shit.”

“That’s the other guy who came over to talk to you?” It brings a deep frown to his face, a crease forming between his brows. It certainly raises a red flag–if the guy has any eye for value, of course he would be drawn to your exhibit. And if he has an eye for value, he could be the guy Marcus came for.

“Yeah.” You rub the back of your neck awkwardly and avert your gaze, as if you should be embarrassed for drawing that guy’s attention. “It’s not been the greatest night.”

Marcus hates that. He hates that you came all this way to be let down, that this is only your second exhibition and you’ve had such a bad experience with it. More than anything, he hates that he can still see the spark in your eyes when you look up at him, and he can tell that it’s dimmed.

“Gimme just a minute.”

He doesn’t mean to be so abrupt, but he wants to make it quick. He hustles to the single-stall men’s room and tugs the radio out of his inside jacket pocket to call in the man’s description. Then he turns it off, tucks it back into its concealed pocket, and goes over to the sink.

He thought he looked perfect for the part he had to play when he left his house to come here. Now, he’s too disheveled. He wets his fingertips and tries to tame the mess on top of his head; he re-buttons his shirt and tightens his tie. He looks flustered, and he’s not even surprised by it. You’ve got his heart pounding with anticipation in a way he doesn’t think it ever has before.

Butterflies fluttering on in his stomach, he emerges from the restroom to resume his position by your side.

Except you’re not by your exhibit anymore, and the crowd has thinned considerably. He checks his watch and realizes there’s only five minutes before the gallery closes for the night. Maybe you’ve decided to cut your losses and leave early.

He hates the way his gut twists with disappointment, but then he reminds himself that he didn’t come here for you. He’s working, and he needs to stay vigilant. No distractions, no complications.

“You’re still here.”

There’s a wave of relief that washes over him as he hears your voice, and this time he’s not too timid to turn towards you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thought I might’ve scared you off.” There’s a fresh cup of champagne in your hand and a hint of vulnerability in your voice, and it makes his heart pick up pace just the slightest bit. You duck your head–that shy, modest gesture again. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just done that without permission.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, more earnestly than he’s ever said anything in his life. “I didn’t mind at all, I swear. Just had to hit the head.”

You look so deeply into his eyes he almost wonders if you aren’t looking through him. But whatever you find, you must like it.

He clears his throat and tries to not show how thoroughly unraveled he is by your gaze. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marcus.” You pause for a moment, and he can tell that there’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue–so he remains silent in hopes of drawing it out.

“Do you have someone to go home to?”

There it is–the invitation he was both dreading and hoping for. He should really lie. He’s here on a job, after all–he’s supposed to avoid complications, and some instinct tells him you’re going to be much more than a simple distraction. But he’s told you the truth so far, and he doesn’t want to stop now.

“No. No, I don’t.”

This is everything that Marcus has never even considered doing. It’s late, it’s dark, it’s a little chilly for spring in Austin. The alley is grimey and drafty–your hair blows in the breeze even as you kneel down before him.

All he can do is stand there, dumbstruck with his back up against the rough brick wall, and stare down at you. 

He’s still breathless from the way you’ve been kissing him–all heat and passion, fire and brimstone. Your hands ran through his hair and undid the effort he put in while in the bathroom, and his hands clutched your waist in a futile attempt to ground himself. Your lips are so soft; he thinks he could kiss you forever and never get tired of it. He was certainly planning on finding out, until you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“You… you don’t have to–”

But the way you look up at him through your lashes makes his throat close up around whatever protest he was going to try.

“I want to,” you assure him–more of a purr than a spoken statement.

And this really isn’t the place. He shouldn’t let you do this here. But he’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t make him harden in his boring gray work slacks.

Marcus has never been about excitement. He’s always strayed to the comfortable and familiar–he falls into the sweet, caring companion role with grace and ease.

And tonight doesn’t have to be that different. If you’re going to suck his dick in a dark, dingey alley, he’ll let you. But he’s going to lay his jacket down on the ground so you don’t scrape up your knees first.

You keen at the thoughtful gesture and grace him with a grateful smile as your adept fingers work his belt open. He’s straining against the seam of his pants now, begging for the attention that your gaze promises him.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think you’re every bit as eager to get his trousers and boxers down as he is.

And Lord help him, he delights in the gasp you emit when his cock springs free from its confines.

“Fuck, Marcus.” Your lips actually part as you freeze for a moment, just taking him in. He’s thick, maybe an inch longer than average, swollen head peeking through uncut skin as if begging for your waiting mouth. He curves to the left just a little bit, and you can almost see his pulse thrumming through the prominent vein that runs along the length of him.

“S’not that impressive,” he mumbles, and you know that he knows that he’s full of shit.

Your fingers almost don’t wrap all the way around him, and suddenly you’re second-guessing this back alley stint, too. You want him in bed. You want him deep inside you, kissing your face as he fucks you, hands all over your body, thrusts hard yet slow. You want it languid, you want it desperate, you want it any way he’ll give it to you. You don’t want to blow him and say goodbye.

He calculates your hesitation as something other than pure unadulterated lust, and he lifts your chin gently with his index and middle fingers.

“Hey, we don’t have to–”

Again, you cut him off–this time, by dragging your tongue from the seam of his balls all the way along his length to swirl messily around his tip. You taste every heady inch of him and then moan at the salty foreshadowing on your tongue when you catch a droplet of precum leaking from his slit.

Your hand springs into action with a long, slow stroke along his cock, and then you sink your mouth around him and he moans. Without caution or pretense, like you’re not in an alley that anyone could walk down at any moment. It’s a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be and his head thumps back against the brick wall hard enough to hurt, and even still he’s never felt so overwhelmed with pleasure before in his life.

Your nose meets the neat patch of hair at his base and your free hand comes up to his hip, effectively pinning him against the wall when he tries to buck greedily even further into your mouth.

No one’s ever taken him so relentlessly before. You’re insistent, pressing onward even as you gag on his length, and it makes his balls tighten in a way he’s never felt before. It’s like you’re hungry for him; like you’re doing this more for your own pleasure than for his.

Marcus Pike has been a giver his whole life. Tonight, with you, he finally decides to take.

He’d be embarrassed about how fast he comes if you weren’t so eager for it. You moan around him and push yourself as deep as you can, throat working around him desperately not to choke on the size of him. Before he can warn you he’s spilling into your mouth, maybe more than he’s ever come before, thick and salty but undeniably sweet too. You allow yourself a moment to savor him as he pulses in your mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive head of him in a way that makes him shiver and whine.

He’s panting, nearly light-headed, when you finally pull off of him and press one last gentle kiss over his slit.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, because there’s nothing else to say.

You giggle, and he realizes with a strange wistfulness that he would do anything to keep this girl–a girl he’s just met, a girl who’s leaving to go back to her home on the other side of the country in just a week–smiling and laughing the way she is now.

“My hotel is only a couple blocks away,” you tell him as he helps you to your feet. “Would you like a nightcap?”

You pick up his jacket and dust the grime off it–it makes him chuckle. Everything about this encounter has flown in the face of what he’s used to. 

He’s never felt so alive.

“I would love a nightcap.”

Your senses wake up slower than normal.

First it’s your eyes–they tune in on the bright mid-sunrise light streaming through the open balcony blinds on the far wall. It falls in slivers and shards over the rumpled white hotel-standard bedding–the second thing your senses tune into. Everything is so soft and light, but it’s a little cold too. Especially the other side of the bed; there’s no heat remaining there at all.

You push yourself up with a grunt and let the sheets fall away from your bare torso, tired eyes scanning around the room. You notice clothes scattered all over the floor while your ears wake up enough to hear water running in the bathroom, and you can’t help the involuntary smile that spreads over your face. He’s still here.

Marcus lets the too-hot water wash over him in scalding waves, muscles still a little sore after a long night tangled together with you.

He checked his phone first thing this morning, and the gallery was quiet all night. They think the suspect he radioed in was the guy they were looking for, but they weren’t able to apprehend him. The running theory is that he might’ve recognized Marcus and decided low-value art wasn’t worth the hassle, but one guess is as good as the next until they can bait and catch the guy.

It’s the weekend now, and Marcus is thanking his lucky stars. Not only does he have a successful mission to celebrate, but he has the most beautiful woman in the world to celebrate it with.

He emerges after a few minutes, wet hair messily scattered over his forehead and wide hips straining against a low-slung hotel towel. He’s a languid Saturday morning wet dream on two legs.

“G’morning,” he hums with a smile–he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes dip down to hungrily take in your naked torso.

“Good morning, Marcus.”

He stalks towards you slowly, eyes darkening with each advancing step. It doesn’t take more than a second to realize he didn’t get his fill of your body last night, but you’re certainly not complaining.

He’s already starting to harden as he drops his towel and crawls over the foot of the bed, surging forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. If last night was desperation and passion, this morning is syrupy and sweet. He explores your mouth slowly, tongue sweeping between your lips and tracing every curve and ridge he can–almost like he’s trying to commit you to memory.

There are universes in the depths of his dark eyes. He may not say exactly what he’s thinking, but you can see it playing out in those baby browns of his. There’s something simmering underneath the surface–something more than just lust or desire.

Something dangerous.

You tug him closer and cup his face in your hands, enjoying the gentle scratch of morning stubble underneath your palms. He surges forward and presses you into the pillows as he settles himself comfortably between your spread legs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs through kisses scattered along the length of your jaw.

You know you probably look like you got run over by a bus–you toss and turn in your sleep, and it always leaves your hair a matted mess. And that’s not even mentioning the slight tremble in your thighs, left over from Marcus’s enthusiastic attention last night. But there’s so much sincerity in his voice; you don’t think he would waste his breath saying it if he didn’t mean it, and that fact alone makes your heart pound with desire.

There’s a syrupy slowness to the way he moves down your body, lips leaving behind heavy wet kisses as he works down your chest and over your stomach.

And it’s almost like he senses the protest working its way up your throat when you feel his hot breath on your thighs, because he looks up at you and there’s sternness in his gaze. You got your fill last night, and now it’s his turn.

“May I?” He looks up at you from the apex of your thighs with big, round puppy eyes that are impossible to refuse–so you nod eagerly and don’t even try.

If you were eager to have him in your mouth last night, he’s desperate.

There’s no hesitation, no build-up. It’s almost aggressive, the way he buries his face in your heat. He laps like a dog at a bowl, hips canting into the mattress involuntarily as your taste floods his mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls into your sopping cunt. “You taste incredible.”

You keen at the praise and card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the damp, spiky strands when his tongue laves heavily over your sensitive clit.

Marcus’s greedy hands grip underneath your thighs and push them as far as you can comfortably spread them. You’re still so sensitive after at least three orgasms last night–you lost count after a point–and it serves to wind your nerves tighter than they’ve ever been wound before.

One hand slides to the junction of your thigh and his thumb comes to take over the pressure on your clit as his tongue plunges between your soaked folds. It’s even more overwhelming like this, and there’s not a thing in the world that you want to do more than let him have his fun. Especially when that hand and his tongue switch spots–his lips seal and suck around your clit while he presses two achingly thick fingers into your waiting entrance.

It actually makes your muscles tighten and your back rise off the bed as he curls his fingers just right to find that spot that makes you fall apart for him. 

He can tell you’re getting close–he’s already so intune with the way your muscles twitch, the change of pitch in your moans. You whine and cry for him the tighter he winds the rubberband, and he’s eager to make it snap.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he says over the overwhelming flutter of his fingers scissoring and curling inside you. “Let me have it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly as pleasure wracks through your body that you can see constellations. Large hands come to pin your thighs open as his tongue keeps working, lapping and gliding against your cunt with ease as a wave of arousal gushes from your entrance.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, and he’s just getting started.

He trails open-mouthed kisses up your body as you catch your breath–his slick-soaked lips coat your skin with your own arousal as he works his way up to allow you a taste of yourself.

The first wet lick of his tongue into your mouth makes you moan. It’s not the first time you’ve tasted your own slick–you’ve had a moment or two of curiosity–but it’s never been quite as enjoyable as it is on his tongue. It pairs so perfectly with the minty tang of toothpaste left on his breath and makes you hungry for more.

He moves fluidly under your direction as you push him onto his back and roll to straddle his lap all in one graceful movement. It’s perfect like this–he doesn’t have to support his weight so he can run his big meaty hands all over every inch of you, and you can kiss him as deep as you want while you grind down on his aching length.

“Shit, baby,” he pants against your lips. Those aforementioned beefy palms grasp hard at your asscheeks to guide your hips, pulling you into a slow, long grind that bumps the head of his cock against your clit deliciously.

Your pulse thrums with desperation until you’re seeing white–no more teasing, no more preamble. You take his girth in your hand and give him a firm stroke; if you had a little more presence of mind, you might be embarrassed at how wet his dick is simply from grinding against you for a few seconds.

“Go ahead, baby, take it when you’re ready.”

He gasps at the first press of his cockhead against your entrance, head flopping back against the pillows as his hands squeeze your asscheeks with bruising force.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he murmurs, throat working around a thick gulp. “You can take it baby, I know you can. Did so good for me last night.”

You think you would honestly do anything he asks of you so long as he just keeps talking like this.

It takes a moment for you to work your way down his length–he’s so mouth-wateringly thick and the curve of his cock hits the most delicious spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Atta girl,” he praises breathlessly as your hips settle flush against his. “Just sit there for a minute. So pretty on my dick.”

God, he makes your entire body flush with heat. He turns your blood to molten lava with his words, lighting every inch of skin on fire. You’ve never felt a sensation like this–so overwhelming yet so intoxicating.

You start with slow movements as his hands trace up and down your sides sweetly–it’s more like you’re grinding on him than anything else. His thumbs rub abstract little patterns into your skin as his hands work up to your tits; when he finally takes them in the palms of his hands and squeezes all pretense of soft, sweet morning-after sex flies out the window.

You drop down hard on his cock and it nearly punches the wind out of him. 

“Yes!” He growls darkly. His eyes flash with something dangerous–it’s the only warning you get before his hand slaps the meat of your ass and grabs a greedy handful. “Just like that baby, use my fuckin’ dick.”

And maybe, if he was someone else, you wouldn’t be nearly as eager to follow instructions. But with Marcus, you’re nothing if not obedient.

Last night was exploration and discovery–hours into the early morning spent learning each other’s bodies, finding what makes the other squirm and whine and beg. This morning is in perfect juxtaposition to that sweet, soft, probing sex–you know what drives each other crazy now, and you each use it to your advantage. Aggressively.

He surges up to suck a pert nipple into his mouth as you set a hard pace on him, long fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave marks. He lands another sharp smack to your ass when your thighs start to shake–a reward for using his cock exactly how he asked.

”M-Marcus—”

”I know, sweetheart,” he purrs through a guttural moan. He cants his hips up to meet your thrusts at just the right moment—he hits something so devastatingly pleasurable that your vision prickles white around the edges. “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? It’s okay, you can let go. Come for me.”

There’s a condescending note to his voice that only makes you squeeze harder around his cock, and within seconds you’re hurtling uncontrollably into ecstasy.

He fucks you through the telltale fluttering of your cunt even when your hips stop moving; strong hands hold you in place and work you through the ebbing waves of pleasure that wrack through your entire body.

”M’so close, honey,” he grunts with a particularly sharp thrust upward. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw in his hand, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Where do you want me?”

”I-inside,” you gasp. “Come inside me, Marcus.”

He fills you as soon as he has your instruction—hard thrusts punctuated by breathy moans as he pumps you full of his release.

There’s a long, silent moment where Marcus pulls your bare chest tightly against his own and you pant into the crook of his neck while trying desperately to even-out your breathing. His fingertips dance across your skin-feather-light, soothing.

The sun is higher in the sky now and meets your eyes with blinding rays through the balcony shutters when they finally open again.

”That was amazing, honey,” he murmurs into the crown of your head. He’s caught his own breath now, but he doesn’t make any attempt to let you go. “How’re you so perfect?”

”M’not perfect,” you mumble into his shoulder; but even to your own ears, it sounds half-hearted. The truth is, he’s so earnestly honest that you believe him.

He hums his dissent with a kiss pressed to your hairline. ”You are to me.”

And you so desperately want to believe him that you don’t even try to argue.

You bask in this warm, lovely afterglow for a few moments longer before Marcus gently taps your hip. ”Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get cleaned up and I’ll buy you breakfast.”

You pull off of his softened cock with a whine and try not to get worked up all over again at the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. ”Th-there’s a free continental breakfast downstairs.”

”Oh, then I’ll definitely pick up the tab,” he jokes with a smirk—all you want to do is kiss his goofy, stupidly handsome face.

He pulls you into the bathroom and starts the water running to fill the tub—he’s never really been a bath guy, but your legs are a little too shaky to endure a shower. He’s so attentive—from running a damp cloth between your legs to helping lower you into the water. He doesn’t complain in the slightest when you catch his hand and ask him to join you; he just shuffles you forward and slides in behind you like it’s a casual act that he performs with every hookup.

It’s intimate. That’s really the only way to describe it. You sit between his spread legs, back to his chest, head rested back against his shoulder while his fingers ghost idle paths over your skin. You don’t talk; you don’t really need to. Somehow, you fit together like souls who have known each other for years. Like all you’ve been missing is each other.

You drift off in his arms as he traces soap over all the curves and ridge of your body, the steady beat of his heart thumping in your ear.

It breaks his heart a little bit to wake you—the fact that you’re so comfortable with him, that you trust him with such vulnerability, makes his head spin a little bit. But the water’s turning cold, and the last thing he wants is for you to come down sick or something.

He rouses you with gentle, feathery kisses scattered over your rosy-scented shoulders and neck.

”Mmm… what time is it?” You grumble, pressing your sleep-addled face further into the crook of his neck.

”Just after noon,” he whispers into your hair after glancing up at the clock on the wall.

He can feel the way your mouth shifts into a pout. “Shit. We missed breakfast.”

The adorable downward tilt of your frown as you lift your dad to look at him makes his heart flutter. “Let’s go out, then. The first farmer’s market of the season is going on downtown. I’m sure we can find something good for brunch.”

”Kinda sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” you hum with a slight smirk dancing at your lips.

”Maybe I am.” His tone is light, his meaning clear—he knows this goes beyond a one-night stand, and there’s no harm done if you’re not wanting to cross this boundary. He’d understand not wanting to get too serious about someone who lives thousands of miles away from your home, of course. He’d never blame you.

You give him your best appraising look, staring deep into those constellation-filled brown eyes. ”You’re not sick of me yet?”

”I have a feeling I couldn’t get sick of you if I tried.” There’s nothing but sincerity in his tone, in his eyes. He genuinely wants to spend time with you, even if there’s nowhere for this to really go.

You hum thoughtfully. “I do love farmer’s markets.”

You’re with Marcus more often than not over the course of the next week.

He takes you sightseeing to some of his favorite spots around Austin, brings you to his favorite restaurants, shows you his favorite movies. But he multitasks—while teaching you about himself, he learns as much as he can about you and picks activities he knows you’ll love, too. 

He’s a pragmatist; he knows your time together is short, and he wants to make himself unforgettable. If he never sees you again, he wants you to think about him every once in a while and look back on this time fondly.

You spend your days while Marcus is at work painting or drawing or lingering around the gallery, and you fall asleep in his arms every night. With shades of gray moonlight and candlelight cast over your hotel room, it almost feels like this could go on forever.

He tells you to wear something nice before he picks you up on the last night–he wants to celebrate in style, which starts with reservations at an up-scale restaurant. 

He’s so achingly handsome. He’s in a matching gray suit over a white button-up, top two buttons undone and no tie to be seen. His face bears the slightest five o’clock shadow and your eyes gravitate to the curve of his lips–the instant smile that takes over his face when those gorgeous brown eyes of his land on you.

If you never see him again, this is exactly how you want to remember him.

“Wow,” he whispers reverently. “You look amazing.”

It’s not the most impressive dress you own, but he looks at you like you’re wearing something worth millions–like you’re worth millions.

You lean up and kiss him, and everything feels right. His hands rest on your waist and it’s so easy to pretend that you won’t be on the other side of the country twenty-four hours from now.

The restaurant is beautiful. Dimly lit and romantic, tables spaced enough to give you some privacy. He takes your hand on top of the table and holds it the entire meal. The conversation is light and airy–you’re both stubbornly dancing around what really needs to be said.

Dessert is cleared and the wine bottle is empty by the time Marcus finally works up the courage to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“I don’t want you to go.”

You knew this would be coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier. You avert your gaze, instead focusing on his large hand wrapped around yours and the windshield wiper motion of his thumb tracing back and forth over your palm. No one’s touch has ever sent such electric tingles through your nervous system the way his does.

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all.

“Look, I…” He takes a deep breath and straightens his spine a little bit, hand leaving yours to gently cup your chin. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he breaks your heart. “I think this could really be something, if we gave it a shot.”

You haven’t lied to him yet, and you don’t plan to start now. “I… I think it could, too. If I didn’t have to go back.”

“Don’t go back then.” There’s a firmness to his voice, but it couldn’t be any more obvious that he’s begging if he actually got down on his knees. “Stay here with me. We’ll figure this out. Just… don’t go.”

And here–with his earnest eyes on yours and his gentle, loving touch on your skin–it’s easy to pretend that it’s that simple.

He takes you back to your hotel room and sheds you easily out of your dress. As cliche as it sounds, it’s not just sex this time. Things that it’s too early to say are buried deep within every kiss, every thrust. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and looks deeply into your eyes while he fills you and you’ve never felt so overwhelmingly connected.

The thud of his heartbeat is insistent in your ear as you come down from your high–so calming, so heartbreaking. You lay on his chest while his breathing evens out and soak up these last few moments of bliss. And then, once you’re sure he’s sound asleep, you carefully worm out of his grip. There’s one more thing you have to do before you go back to New York.

Loud, insistent ringing pulls Marcus from the depths of sleep. He tries to ignore it and go back to sleep, but now that his senses are alert, the sound in combination with bright Saturday morning sunlight won’t allow him the luxury. He presses his face deeper into the pillow that he’s somehow wound himself around in his sleep, but that damned ringing won’t stop.

He sits up slowly and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes–and that’s when he notices the empty sheets next to him. Your side of the bed is long cold, and he knows. Before he even sees the note on the dresser and your room key next to it, he knows you’re gone.

He finds his trousers discarded halfway between the bed and the door and pulls his blaring phone out of the pocket.

“The gallery got hit sometime early this morning. They took everything. Every goddamn piece. You need to get here now.”

His body moves on autopilot as he pulls yesterday’s clothes back on, fingers numb to all sensation as they work to button his shirt. This can’t be happening. It can’t be you.

He notices the note on the dresser as he’s threading his belt through the loops of his trousers, and his gut twists with a sickening sense of foreboding.

I really did fall for you, Marcus. But nothing good starts in a getaway car.

He’s not sure if you knew who he was the whole time and this whole thing was calculated, or if you just got lucky. He doesn’t want to believe you’re that cunning and cruel. He wants to believe that this is just a misunderstanding, that you’re out for ice or something and you’ll walk back through the door at any moment.

But you don’t.

The note is enough of a confession for him. He’ll have the power of the FBI on his side to find you–and he will find you. What he’ll do when he does, he’s not sure. He guesses he’ll know when he sees you.

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[necrotic-nephilim]

for ask game: casstim, post war games

Tim's first heat starts in Bludhaven and, alienated from all familiar bonds, he invites Cass into the nest. but it turns out that despite everyone thinking Cass was a beta or delta, she's an alpha stuck with the presentation due to starvation as a child. and being close to an omega in the heat provokes her first rut.

for the ask game!

post-War Games CassTim my *beloved* god. especially with Omegaverse it's all so good bc i *love* playing with how Cass' upbringing could affect her presentation-

the isolation of everyone post-War Games is a lot of fun to play with, especially how it affects Tim and Cass. they don't see eye to eye about how things should've been handled. and worse, they're both grieving Steph. it makes being together awkward and full of long silences neither of them know how to fill. but without any other options and trying desperately to just fix things, Tim invites Cass to his nest. mostly because he doesn't *expect* her to say yes. i like the idea of Cass being pretty averse to all things secondary gender because of her own complex about (assumedly) not having one. everyone defaults to assuming she's a beta, but there's never been any proper confirmation. so it's a last-ditch effort for Tim to find *any* kind of companionship after everyone he's lost. his first heat has him feeling awkward and vulnerable. so when Cass says yes bc she's also just lonely and vulnerable, he's so started he didn't expect it. he happily makes room for her in his nest, but it's a bit awkward at first. Cass is just going through a checklist, making sure Tim is eating and drinking enough, cuddling him, but still holding an emotional distance. part of it is her unresolved feelings and part of it is her stunted presentation, it all makes her very confused and awkward no matter how much Tim tries to connect to her.

i'm personally a big fan of heats not being "out of your mind horniness" but more so being "emotional distress and physical discomfort". sure Tim is horny and could really use a good fuck rn, but mostly he's just cramping and craving an emotional connection, especially as his first heat without a real pack. the Batfam have vaguely acted as a pack before, but now they're so fractured it sends Tim's hormones on an emotional fritz. he doesn't like that he's an omega having his first heat, he doesn't like that his pseudo-pack is such a mess, and he doesn't like how something is clearly wrong with Cass. she's trying to hide it, but Tim can tell she's getting more and more uncomfortable the more they hang out in his nest, just watching movies. she keeps shifting around and getting up for some reason. and the worst part is, *she* doesn't know why either. she doesn't know why Tim's scent is so distracting and why she's suffocating in this need to protect and hold him. she almost feels bad about it, like she's objectifying an omega in heat who just wants her company. Cass doesn't fully understand social dynamics, but she knows omegas are seen as vulnerable and fragile during heat and Tim came to *her* for help, and now she's messing it up, somehow. she can smell the distress on his scent as he's so worried about her when she's the one who should be taking care of him and clearly, she's doing a bad job of it, no matter how much Tim is trying to convince her otherwise and just talk to her.

i think it's fun if Tim notices first. Cass wouldn't have any idea what these feelings are and she's often so disconnected from her body's signals she's not processing the attraction and arousal from her rut, just this burning need to protect Tim, which she had already. it's when Tim has his face buried in the crook of her neck that he frowns and actually smells her. and he awkwardly asks if she's an alpha and Cass has to tell him no, bc everyone knows she's assumed to be a beta. and so Tim has to very awkwardly tell her that he's pretty sure she's an alpha and he's *definitely* sure she's going into rut. and now Cass is *more* uncomfortable. because she's so used to her body being used to hurt people. and she's heard the stories, how alphas go into ruts around omegas and use to as an excuse to assault them. and that's the *last* thing she wants to do when Tim has trusted her with such a vulnerable moment. i'm just very fond of Cass fearing intimacy because she doesn't know how to use her body for pleasure, only for pain. she tries to pull away, saying she'll find someone else to keep Tim company. but Tim is promising her it's okay, promising he knows she wouldn't hurt him and that they don't *have* to do anything. his instincts are begging for sex, but he won't push for that unless he knows she wants it too.

the sex takes a while for them to build up to. maybe Tim's heat lasts a couple days and Cass is in and out or her rut the whole time as her body adjusts to presenting as an alpha. they're helping each other through it. Cass is trying *hard* to hold back her urges, she's taken the worst kind of pain the world has to offer, she can handle some hormones. but the more Tim's heat lasts the more the nest smells like both of them and she finally breaks, whispering a soft "please" in TIm's ear, and that's all Tim needs to understand. the sex is taken slow and a little awkward. Cass functionally understands how sex works, but concepts of foreplay are utterly foreign to her. i like the idea of Cass being the dom, but still needing guidance from Tim as to what feels good for him, how she should touch him. i love the idea of Tim guiding her to eat him out bc it'll make it easier for him to fuck him and Cass enjoys giving Tim head so much for the taste and all the noises that he makes that she drives him into overstimulation, coming over and over on her tongue until he's sure he's gonna pass out. she fucks him hard, but her words are so gentle in his ear and it's such a dizzying contrast. when Cass finally knots Tim i think she cries. the overwhelming emotion just finally gets to her and they hold each other like that while Cass cries and feels loved.

in the aftermath, they *try* to go back to normal. both of them agree mating would be a bad idea that could overcomplicate things. but they can't seem to stay away from each other. they end up sleeping in each other's beds, always visiting each other. it's very normal for Tim to wake up to Cass crawling through his window to climb under his sheets. they smell like each other so much that everyone can tell Tim is seeing an alpha but no one realizes it's Cass for a while because no one realizes she's an alpha. the truth eventually comes out because Tim and Cass end up glued at each other's hip. it takes a few years before they officially mate, but everyone knows it's an unofficial official sort of thing. Tim's heats are always spent with Cass and they're ferally protective of each other. they definitely don't have an easy relationship- there's so much unresolved trauma between the two of them that they struggle with emotional vulnerability with each other. sometimes they end up arguing and not speaking for days and *everyone* can feel the tension. but they always make up in the end bc they will always seek each other out for company and comfort.

[dairy-farmer]

Is me agaaaain~ o/ I'm back on my nonsense and practicing my writing! Had Thoughts(tm).

While Civilian Tim is my Beloved♡. You know what ELSE doesn't get explored enough? Betas in ABO fics! The overlooked everyman. The common masses. Not SPECIAL enough.

Expected to bow to the whims of Alphas and cater to, nay, CODDLE Omegas. To fall in line and be lead. Subservient. Nature's wallpaper in the Grand Drama of Alpha and Omegas.

All because they don't have to suffer a heat or rut. All because they didn't get that few extra organs and a hormonal boost. As though there aren't superhumans and aliens running around.

Everyone talking about Pack this and Pack that. About how IMPORTANT it is. How PRECIOUS. Only to stutter to a stop and dismiss you when you bring up Betas. Because they're focused on what THEY decided were the Protagonists of Life. And who CARES about the rest of us, huh?

We're just foot soliders and drones.

And Tim's parents expected an Alpha son. Had plans, of course, for the unthinkable. An Omega. But when he tested positive for likely presenting as a Beta? Humanity's MOST COMMON presentation? It's like he became worthless to them. Was assumed destined to fail. To be weak and unworthy.

Because of his genitals. His hormones.

Because he DIDNT stink up the house.

On the bright side, he gets away with a LOT. The down side? He is a very, VERY smart child with a chip on his shoulder. Little time for the dramatics of life's Specialist Babies.

When Bruce won't LISTEN to Robin? Because (and he can only assume) "hur dur me big strong head alpha. Me always right!" Well FUCK Batman! He stuffs Wayne Manor with picture print outs of HARD EVIDENCE showing Robin did No Such Thing!

When ROBIN apparently decided to flee in the night like some Victorian Omega Waif to locations unknown? Non-emergency JLA number, bitch. He knows it. Get Superman'd.

The Bats seem to settle. His Parents come and go. He hacks their emails and changes their Wills. If THEY won't take him seriously, HE will do it for both of them. Like HELL is he letting them pawn HIS company off to someone else.

Then Haiti happens.

And... he wish he could say he was surprised when he didn't even notice, until he was told. They were never Pack. That would require his Parents to have TRIED. To have CARED.

Bereavement services try to coddle him. Alphas, like VULTURES, circle. Trying to "guide" the poor RICH young Beta in his time of emotional vulnerability. If there weren't cameras, he would bite. Parasites. All of them.

The Omegas are no better. Showing up, "concerned" for him. Trying to feed him and coddle him like an infant pup. Insert themselves into his life. He gets a cold and rather nasty reputation, rather quickly.

Thank god for fake, Alpha, uncles. Social services were making noises about "supportive families" and the "need for pack bonds when grieving". Ha! So say the Alphas, he notes. The Omegas. There Beta co-workers were pretty silent. But when have they ever noticed THAT?

Strangely enough, and you'll be SHOCKED, really, his Uncle FULLY supported Tim in all he did! How Odd! He rises to become the youngest CEO in the country.

He fires half his board outright. They're corrupt and worse? Bad at business. Chosen because "Alphas are natural leaders". His ASS they are. The business take a hit, of course, lots of speculation and scathing articles. At least they do until Drake Industries has RECORD breaking quarters.

Turns out hiring the legitimately qualified, makes for better business.

Who'd have THOUGHT!

He admits. He gets distracted, building the family (not Pack. Never Pack.) business to unprecedented heights. He no longer has TIME for his night time... bird watching. But he keeps an idle eye out. And they grow in number, not shrink. So it's probably fine.

But then? Not long after he's officially an adult. After his "Uncle" TRAGICALLY goes for a one man flight over international waters, for a "vay-cay" at the summer home, only to "perish" when the plane goes down? Who strolls into his office like he has ANY right to be there? Brucie "Secretly Batman" Wayne.

They don't have a meeting planned. Why is he HERE. Stinking up his office with Alpha Scent.

.....the plane was a Wayne Aeronautics design. Fuck(tm).

Bruce plays the "oh he feels SO GUILTY" card. Tim counters. Bruce is pulling out the Full Himbo. Clearly suspicious. Oh god damn it, batman thinks he's murdered his fake uncle. And, well, he DID. But there WAS no fake uncle!

Somehow Tim finds himself dragged to lunch. Brucie's arm casually slung over his shoulders. Great. Now he's going to stink for hours.

And Bruce? Is putting clues together. Timothy "The Dragon" Drake. Beta. Known to be actively hostile to both Alphas and Omegas alike. Rumors suggest Pack trauma or extreme bond loyalties. No scent but his own on him. Not even any lingering traces. His Uncle, supposedly his Alpha, never scented him?

That coupled with records suggesting a complete lack of bonds with his birth Pack and absence of scentmarkers...

Pack Trauma. Very, VERY Feral. Likely takes most Pack-bonding overtures as signs of aggression. Highly likely he killed his Uncle in response to either real or perceived aggression.

Bruce wonders how it slipped his notice. Slipped EVERYONE'S notice. Got this bad. He... already knows. The answer does not sit well with him. It's because Tim is a Beta. He grits his teeth. Others may have failed Timothy Drake, but he refuses too.

Tim wishes he WOULD. He feels harassed. Bruce is EVERYWHERE. And he's gotten his kids in on it. Tim's poor, poor office REAKS. He! REAKS! Why are they so TOUCHY??! Cease! Desist!

Worse? The questions about his "uncle" abruptly dry up about a week and a half in. Which means they DEFINITELY found some evidence that there was never an uncle. He has a pounding headache and HATES this. He was FINE on his own. Why does this have to happen NOW? At least they are leaving him alone currently. He pops some headache meds.

A shrill noise screeches in an echoing pitch throughout his office. Ow.

Wait.

Oh Fuck.

He scrambles for his phone. That is the Gotham Wide Alert. Who-? Ivy. Heading their way. He slams the building wide evac button, setting off alarms in every room in the tower. Gets up to grab his briefcase, his suit jacket, to evacuate with the rest of his company.

He turns, reaching, only to be met with vines, already rearing back to break his office windows.

CRASH.

Safety glass everywhere. Trying to run is pointless. Instinct still demands it. Living green as strong as steel beams has him around the waist. He is yanked backward out into open air. Hundreds of feet to the ground below him. Writhing Green has swallowed half his building already.

The alert was USELESS. "On her way" his ASS! His people are trapped!

The scent of flowers fills his nose...

His body feels... weird, when he manages to blink back to awareness. There are other CEOs. All of them are complete bastards. Arrogent nepotism picks to the last. Daddy's perfect Alpha offspring, handed the world. They're panting. Flushed. Sweaty and fighting the vines, humping... the.. air...

Oh, gross.

Where? Ivy. Talking to a camera. Gesturing to them. Tim struggles to concentrate. His head feels... soup. Slooshy and warm. Big ol skull of soup. One of the other CEOs is trying to reach him. Panting at him. He kicks. Disgusting! He thinks he hisses.

Ivy pauses. Turns to look at him. Squints.

He's not an alpha she declares. No shit. She shrugs. He'll still pay for- wait, WHAT!? That was Erkins! He FIRED that fucker! He's actively working to FIX the damage that idiot caused to the wetlands!

Soup brain saves the day. He's dragged to the side. Her bad, apparently. Hold that thought and she get you an antidote shortly. Now, where was she?

Letting the hostages go, says Batman.

Ivy disagrees. Violently.

It would be cool to watch up close, if Tim didn't feel like his skin was hypersensitive and damn near on fire. He feels nauseous. Please stop jostling him. He feels gross and sweaty. He... he THINKS? He's been Pollened?

He's heard it's the closest a Beta can get to being in Heat. And for Alphas and Omegas it can be lethal if not treated promptly. Of course, no one gives a SHIT that it's incredibly hard on a Betas body. Since, you know, they aren't MADE to go into heat! Oh god. He might puke.

Hands are cutting him free from his vine prison. Working his shirt and undershirt up enough to expose stomach. The pinch of a needle. The burning stops building. The nausea starts to fade. Tim cracks open an eye, no longer needing to grit everything closed to keep from hurling.

Nightwing. Omega.

He's brushing sweating hair back from Tim's face. Rubbing feeling back into Tim's limbs. He smells... nice? Good cologne on clean sheets. Normally Tim HATES being coddled. He doesn't feel good. He'll allow it.

Dick seems to be picking up on that. Is trying so, so hard not to look PLEASED and EXCITED that Tim is letting him take care of him. Scoops Tim up and is off before Bruce can tell him not too. Reprimand him for taking advantage of the situation.

It honestly doesn't even suprise Tim that Dick knows where he lives. Distantly he wonders if Dick even remembers that Tim is not supposed to know. That if he gets handsy as Nightwing, Dick will have to back off.

Deposited on his bed. It doesn't seem so.

Off go shoes and jacket, shirts and pants. Anything that might be infected or uncomfortable. He's brought water. Blankets nested around him. Limbs gently massaged. Dick looks GIDDY.

He still feels too hot and too cold. Uncomfortable.

Soothing noises, whispered against his skin. Hands trail down, following a skimming mouthing. Beneath the comforter pulled atop them to tuck him in. He can not see what-

He's swallowed alive. Hands gently, but without mercy, holding his hips still as an incredibly skilled mouth works his clit. Tim gasps for air. He might be shaking. Whimpers and cries dripping from his mouth as he tries desperately to rock up into the impossible heat consuming him.

Then long, calloused fingers are sliding inside of him. He.. he can't tell how to react. He's wet but not... his body doesn't MAKE slick. And yeah, it feel kinda... but does he...

The fingers angle. Pounding against SOMETHING and suddenly there are stars behind his eyes. Whimpering as he's finger fucked, eaten with in and inch of his life. He orgasms but... but it's not? Enough? W-why? Pollen. Oh god.

Dick is making soothing little noises. Pressing kisses to his face and neck. But if he's up here, how will he- Tim is pinned. Gently, sweetly, as Dick slides home.

He whines. High and displeased. Likes dislikes this. Dick shushs him. Rocking his hips. Kisses and kisses. Everything's okay. He's got you. But Tim refuses to settle.

The air of the room shifts, floors creek just slightly under heavy boots. Dick keeps rocking his hips, eyes locked with Bruce's. He's NOT going to get up. Timmy needs a pack. Needs LOVE. He's feels so, so good. And Dick is taking such good care of him. He NEEDS them.

And.. Can Bruce really argue? Tim is alone. Brilliant, gorgeous, and alone. Drifting over to scruff him? Can Bruce REALLY say he does not look like he was MEANT to be there? Beneath Dick. Soft and safe. Warm and loved? Taken care of by their pack?

He can't.

He scuffs his boy. HIS. And Tim goes limp, Dick shuddering on top of him. Face pressing against Bruce's hand, where it holds Tim's neck, arms hiking up Tim's hips. Thrusting for real. Putting his back into it.

Punching out cries from Tim with every slam against his spots. He can't move, scuffed as he is. Can only stare up. Watch as Batman, Bruce, watch HIM.

Watchs him getting... getting FUCKED. He sees Batman reach for something down the bed. Textured leather is rubbing against his clit, moments later. Dick groans in his ear as Tim spasms around him, Bruce's teasing making him tighter. I.. It's too much. Too vulnerable. Too much!

He being filled. He whines.

Gets a pack bite for his trouble, from Dick.

Then Dick's being shoo'd to the side and Tim is choking on air. Dicks cum the only thing making it slick enough. Beta's don't STRETCH like that! Big. Too big. Can't BREATHE.

But Bruce makes him breathe. Rocks and rocks until he's in. Until he's so full everything feels permanently different. Pressed down into a nest and trapped under a solid wall of Alpha. Whimpering, conquered, and held. Told over and over that Bruce has him. It's okay now.

Not enough ROOM to argue. To THINK. Whatever he wants.

He fuck Tim slow and careful. It's still almost enough to cry. But he promises not to knot him. He PROMISES. It would hurt him. Tear things. He won't hurt Tim. He whispers soothing noises. Holds Tim still, as he works himself in and out of a hot, perfect little vice.

Keeps his word. The knot stays OUT of Tim's poor, tight, little body. It'd never fit. He seed doesn't either. Gushing and spurting around the edges. Making Tim jerk and cry out. His abused little hole oozing thickly. Bruce bites him. Of course he does, he can't lose this chance.

They'll figure out details in the morning.

Damian will be THRILLED. He'd been planning a long term seduction plan for weeks. And Jason will no doubt drag Tim off to scent him the second he's able. Betas are said to be calming influences in a pack. Assuming the can all SHARE. Helping Tim settle in is going to be a wonderful group project.

He's touch starved, feral, and deeply wary of any sign of affection. Pampering him is undoubtedly going to be a group effort. But watching Dick cuddle his newest pack member? Tim relaxed in exhausted but peaceful rest? Bruce knows it's worth it.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀!!!!!!!!!! beta tim being brought into the pack and made a member whether he likes it or not!!!

[scribeoffate]

What’s your favorite thing about season 3a of Teen Wolf and why?

The tl;dr answer is almost everything.

Let's start with Tattoo- I love the way the episode sets everything up. I've mentioned it in rewatch before but I really want to explore the use of the word "ephemeral" in Tattoo. From exploring Scott's break up with Allison, to his tattoo not lasting, to the way he uses the word, even to the idea that Scott's status as a beta is ephemeral, even at this point in the series. I love the scene with Stiles and Derek holding Scott down to blowtorch his arm. I LOVE the way it opens with fucking BRAEDEN rescuing Isaac on a motorcycle.

I love the introduction of Deucalion. I love and adore the meet-cute in the elevator. Please enjoy @spikeface's brilliant fic: a certain potential for a fascinating glimpse of Deucalion's POV in that scene.

I love that Scott is Isaac's werewolf contact. I love the tension as the alpha pack stalks Braeden (I would be mad about how this ended, except she comes back) and their intro. I love the tension between Allison, Lydia, and Derek. It's a very well-done episode and definitely sets up a fantastic season so well.

Chaos Rising introduces Heather, who is friends with Danielle from Party Guessed. I was excited. We get the vault rescue, and there's some fun Steter banter. "No, you idiot, I live in a condo downtown, will forever be a favorite moment. The vault rescue! Scott's look at the end is A FAVORED moment, the blood on the chin? I cannot.

Then, we move on to Fireflies. I am weak for Scott saving those kids in the beginning, for the tension between him and Allison, and for the introduction of Cora! And then they are working with Chris. Who is still pointing a gun at Scott, but Scott is so soft and accepting of it. "I get that," he says. 🥺 Then they do a rescue! And Jennifer is there! And Derek is so worried about hurting her. Unfortunate. (When I was first watching, I leaned over to @illbeintheend and was like, "Tell me she's evil?" :D ) I think my favorite bit of Unleashed is when they pull the motorcycle swap on the twins. That is like PEAK supernatural teenager shenanigans to me. And they deserved more lower stakes (not that the twins are entirely low-stakes) shenans, overall. I also LOVE LOVE LOVE that Allison knows so much about motorcycles. Scallison motorcycle trip whenst?

Frayed. Frayed. FRAYED. BELOVED. I love so much about this episode. The sciles! the scallison! more truedemon in the elevator? and then on an escalator!! the scerek! the scisaac! BOYDDD. That moment where Scott is like "Well, I do," when Boyd doesn't care what happens to himself? Gyahhh. I CANNOT. And the the fight scene? Is SO good? Despite them having forgotten about light bulbs by 3a I find that to be one of the best choreographed fight scenes in the show. The Coach of it all? Ofc he's not gonna let them stop for a bathroom break, SIT DOWN BILINSKI. I love Frayed. AND THEN WE GET MOTEL CALIFORNIA RIGHT AFTER?? Lydia's arc in this is SOOO good. The Allison and Lydia moment where Allison is just "I believe you" and Lydia is so touched and clearly bolstered, it's one of the reasons I head canon she's had access to her powers her entire life. It's just now that people believe her about them. The Isaac and Ethan character moments? LEARNING ABOUT ALICIA (GREAT BUT OMG SHOOOOWWWW WHY IS THIS ALL WE GET???). Boyd. Cry!!! And THEN. The angst of the parking light scene at the end. I tear up still watching it. (Tbf I cry real easy.) Currents. I love Currents for the metronome scene and the way it highlights Boyd's intelligence. He has one of the best plans. And then the way it ends? That hurts me. Proto-alpha Scott almost rescuing Deaton? Bbbb. I have mixed feelings about Visionary. The Paige arc is devastating. Read my own excellent fic (i just) died in your arms for a look at my thoughts on her and Derek. I love the glimpse of pre-canon and Deucalion's backstory. I find the "unreliable narrator" bit to be a touch heavy-handed, but it's grown on me after many watched for fics.

The Girl Who Knew Too Much and The Overlooked. GYHAHHHH! I love so much about these. The scydia hand hold moment. "For someone like you to help" she says to Scott and I MELT. The big orchestra crescendo! The death of Deputy Tara and the little hints at her relationship with Stiles? The way Derek absolutely believes Scott and Stiles about Jennifer and her utter shock but quick turnaround?

The elevator scene! It's so silly and SO GREAT. I love it so much, okay. Deucalion manipulating events? The desperation as Stiles and Scott try and rescue their parents? Listen, these episodes are also so good. And then we have Scott going with Deucalion at the end of the episode. The way he has no idea what to do. He's just a lost kid, in so far over his head. And his mom and Stile's dad are missing and his (pretty damn good, too) English teacher is evil and there is Deucalion. And he has no choice and maybe he was right in that motel parking lot, it certainly feels like there's no help.

Then Alpha Pact happens. Then we get to Lunar Eclipse. And I just. The ice baths?? I have spent so much time wondering how Deaton, Isaac, and Lydia felt sitting there. Waiting. For hours. Lydia desperately holding back her screams for Allison, Scott and Stiles. Also, they all look so gooood in black. The Nemeton! The matching tattoos! The way it brings everything together to s1. The scalisaac moment with Rafael? Priceless. Love Kalia and Jennifer's showdown. It looks so cool, first of all. But there is a moment, where you think, just maybe Kali might NOT double down. And then the glass shards fly.

The bit where Deucalion is "brother against brother, how very American," cracks me up, every watch. And then he roars and tries to force Scott to kill and well, then we have an Eclipse. AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN we get the true alpha moment we've been building to since Scott threw off Peter's control in s1 and chose his own pack over Derek's in s2. That moment is so good.

Thank you for asking, anon. <3 I just love 3a so much.

[stillness138]

Since there won't be any more expansions (and i'm a chronic procrastinator), i updated my personal top 10 Gwent card arts into a top 20, including the few sets that came since then and shuffling things around a bit.

It's a long one, hence the cut.

Personal top 20 Gwent card arts:

20: Bone Talisman by Bogna Gawrońska It's still the most festive looking thing i like. My beloved blue-and-bright red fidget spinner. I really can't explain my weird attachment to it any other way; i generally tend to like the item arts, maybe it's the collector brain, maybe it's because after Homecoming and most of the expansion sets since later 2019 onwards, these base set trinket adjacent arts became more prominent to me among a lot of new, more dramatic and bleak character and scenery art.

19: Ceremonial Dagger by Katarzyna Bekus The entire set of strategem arts from Merchants of Ofir is honestly packed, but the dagger is the one i found myself putting in my in-game profile the most. Maybe it's the item hoarder brain again, maybe it's the color scheme i find relatable if that makes sense, most likely it's the premium helping a bunch to make that choice too. The background weirdly fascinates me. Does it have anything to do with The Spiral? I have never attempted to really assign any logical meaning to the strategem arts, they're clearly more symbolic than anything, but it still makes you wonder.

18: Ard Gaeth by Katarzyna Bekus Somewhat related, here's another piece of wonky multiverse lore. And once again, it's the color that first grabs attention; the contrast of teal and this dusty red. Then one starts realizing the implied size and scope, the birds help with that, apart from being a cute composition detail. The shattery effect makes it look volatile, unstable, dangerous. Ominous. Which ultimately makes it fit with the rest of the Wild Hunt archetype in more than just lore.

17: Coup de Grâce by Lorenzo Mastroianni There are two wolves in me, one loves bright colors, the other actually enjoys a lot of the bleaker scenes. Although to be fair, Lorenzo Mastroianni is a big contributor to that. And it's no wonder, when he casually drops stuff like this. It's almost symbolic, lot less than strategems but certainly more than other, straightforward "war sucks" Gwent art. How do you visually represent something sad in a way that makes it hard to look away not just because of the tragedy but because of the beauty put into making that image? You ask Lorenzo Mastroianni, the modern classical artist, to do it.

16: Viper Witcher by Valeriy Vegera I once described Valeriy's art as "where Lorenzo uses a tight color palette, he uses every pencil in the case". This one is perhaps not as obvious an example, the whole piece has a very unified atmosphere especially from afar, but still, there are so many colors especially in textiles and skin. They're harder to register sometimes but it's how Valeriy does texture and shading. And somehow, he bridges the bleak and the colorful world too. Admittedly, this card also had to be here because mr. Viper is my son, and the voicelines are done by an actor with the nicest, smoothest bass i've heard since Peter Steele.

15: Naglfar's Crew by Anton Nazarenko I was surprised by how much i ended up liking this one. It's the implications, i think; enchanted to laboriously upkeep this monster of a ship, this 'and if you see it emerge from a breach in the sky, you know you're fucked' symbol of death and decay. It's dark in a way i find compelling, i guess.

14: Serpent Trap by Marta Dettlaff Back to the bright ones, i liked this art ever since i discovered it as Nature's Gift in post-Midwinter beta. The card saw play in Scoia'tael spell decks, and to me it became linked to Francesca Findabair for their shared spectral snake thing. But that all aside, the art is just so pretty. Vibrant, yet not oversaturated. And like the item arts, needed to balance out the cool and badass and the dramatic and tragic. Looking at it now, another point comes to mind; it's still grounded? The way Gwent art at large is grounded compared to other card games. Like it's not trying so hard (both this piece and the game's art in general). That's refreshing.

13: Chort by Bartłomiej Gaweł It reminds me of the first game's main menu. The Witcher 1 main menu is, to me, one of the most accurate representations of this universe, its atmosphere. Even if the "you kill cows, you get ambushed by the fucking baphomet" is a meme game mechanic, something about it is...witchery. Superstition, folk legends, and ultimately, monsters. Or that's my takeaway, anyway. But the Chort art, beside being on the more rare side in-game, has always weirdly drawn me in.

12. Oneiromancy by Lorenzo Mastroianni This was the Novigrad expansion key art before they turned it into a card, and i sure am glad they did. Lorenzo can get a bit weird, as a treat, someone said. Are they Condwiramurs and Corinne? Possibly! But i'll abstain from the schizo theories now. It's a gorgeous, well composed and executed surrealist piece. Inception if it had strong palpable atmosphere.

Denis Villeneuve > Christopher Nolan. but Lorenzo beats both

11: Funeral Boat by, you guessed it, Lorenzo Mastroianni One final yippee for the last card set. And my god it's beautiful. Tight composition can get surprisingly hard to coordinate and make decisions for, but this is so well-balanced. The left end of the boat is closer to the frame, but right side has the most noticeable color, the character's face, and of course the bird to even it out. As if to defend the title i gave him earlier, Lorenzo references Isle of the Dead in a way that, even if symbolic, fits into the universe perfectly. Someone stop me before i start rambling about similar concepts in different mythologies.

10: Dana Méadbh (now the token spawned by Call of Harmony) by Anna Podedworna The most famous Gwent artist enters the list. With a piece made around two, when you think about it very bold choices. The goddess of nature and life, glowing with inhuman light in a black and barren forest. Obscured by thin, bare tree trunks. But to make her emerge and stand out, that was necessary. And it's working wonders. A lot of the Scoia'tael faction is obviously green, all kinds of green, but even a simple choice like making it pop out of black makes the card art stand out among others.

9: Circle of Life by Oleksandr Kozachenko It has everything i usually look for in Gwent art; nature, color, atmosphere. A certain tranquility, perhaps. A little bit of story - the orange badge is the Kerack coat of arms. It's that environmental storytelling thing gamers keep talking about, complementing the character and faction drama of the rest of its card set.

There's a slightly changed, extended version, too, and somehow it's even better.

8: Gezras of Leyda by Bogdan Rezunenko As much as i tend to dunk on Bogdan for having played Blasphemous once and making it his entire personality, Gezras is easily the best school founder card art of the set. Once again, the choice to have these prominent arts on the more symbolic side paid off, and the result is a stalking nocturnal animal out for revenge, backed by a giant image of what simultaneously did him irrepairable harm and gave him the means to defend himself. The premium doesn't disappoint either.

7: Rioghan the Undying by Daniel Valaisis To nobody's surprise, the atmosphere, once again, got me hooked. I love the cold color, the dramatic flow, the big imposing silhouette of a ship in the background. Poor boy is the picture of misery. It's pure melancholy (something not that common in the Skellige faction by the way, which is a point in favor of Funeral Boat too), that i, of course, am inevitably drawn to.

he's just like me fr...

6: Witches' Sabbath by Michal Lisowski Did i craft this card already or not? The realist's complaint towards near-greyscale card art. I share this sentiment, if only for the comedy of it, but with a few notable exceptions, and this piece is the main one. The Robert Eggers comparisons were made already i'm sure, but it really is a take on the last good Witcher 3 quest with a dramatic, more dreamy, or you could say cinematic quality ramped up to 11. Gone is the fanservice present in the game and the unnecessarily grotesque depictions of fatness of other parts of this card set, and what remains is a beautiful, ominous callback to folklore and classical art.

5: Tinboy by Valeriy Vegera This is a baroque painting. The drama. Tinboy doesn't take that scarf off, ever. And here this poor soul is, their last will to live dragging it off him. On purpose? On accident? Probably both. The pattern marking Tinboy as a gang member staining with blood of a victim, something something symbolism. All in Valeriy's signature 'which pencil should i pick up next' style. Underrated piece.

4: Lara Dorren by Toni Muntean They finally got our girl. And once again, despite heartbreak, it's gorgeous. Soft, sweet colors with a necessary hint of melancholy (the lighting suggests it's sunset?), and a pure, painted quality without the need for texture assets. A scene like this is better left a comparatively simple and laid back tribute. Beyond the technicalities, i also really, really applaud Toni for the outfit design. This is the Aen Elle princess, dressed well but for the weather. And the fact her mostly blue clothes with yellow sleeves mirror Cregennan's yellow jerkin with blue details, and her red brooch above the heart might, beside contrasting with the blue, very well reflect his fatal wounds... well. As much as death on card art isn't always done the best, Lara is represented together with that which mattered to her the most. Despite being categorized among the Wild Hunt, she remains herself.

3: Lydia van Bredervoort by Igor Klymenko The joy i felt when this was the art of Lydia they managed to get into the game. It's easily one of the best contest pieces and on par with the best Gwent has to offer - it has mood, and that ever present air of groundedness, realism, and in that, unfortunate tragedy. But similarly to Lara, it shows Lydia being her own person; doing what she loved and was good at without sight of Vilgefortz despite her being known as his ever loyal assistant. Likewise, it doesn't sensantionalize her condition, but references it in a subtle, tasteful, and even clever way. I also love her dress and the overall color palette. Igor understood.

2: Eldain by Anna Podedworna Couldn't help it, this asshole has me in chokehold and he's enjoying it. In my defense, this piece highlights everything Anna is known for, because she's damn good at it. Incredibly sharp main subject of the piece contrasted against a blurry background, which allows for insane details like the strings extending from the top of the lute. To add more fun to it, Eldain isn't even in the absolute foreground, but the piece is still composed smart, so he remains the main focus. His silly red collar on mostly green helps. On top of all that, the art tells a little story, something Anna often does too, and in this case it delightfully sums Eldain up. It's also the best premium in the game.

look at his little red ears from sitting against the sun aww

Honorable mention: Lake Guardian by Anton Nazarenko Like the following #1, this card has sentimental value to me as my second card reveal and artwork i made my best emote of. It was a perfect match, bird gals and all. It's a Sirin, bringing in a more obscure but not unwelcome mythology reference to the universe. And I love her vibrant, marble-like eyes.

1: Dol Blathanna Sentry by Lorenzo Mastroianni ...remains my favourite card art since that fateful day sometime in January 2018. I was just discovering what there was to know about Witcher, downloading Gwent in the first place out of need for more content as i was slowly reading through the first book. Gwent has done a lot to explore and build on this universe, and it has helped me contextualize a lot of things early on. I remember scrolling through the deckbuilder, seeing this art, and being struck by its mood, this aura of secret and wonder. "Oh, so this is what Dol Blathanna looks like..." It's quintessential older Lorenzo. Very much admitted brush work, fog, tight color palette. The little specks of blue in flowers and face paint work just right. Maybe it's a reference to Arthurian myth and Avalon, maybe to Greek myth and Hades, or maybe, as is often the case and was the case later (or earlier in this list), both. It spoke to me and my sense of wonder back then. It speaks to me when i search for comfort now.

now, time to tear Karol Bem to shreds in the top 20 least favourites xd

[ohitshoneybee]

Don’t Fear the Reaper

Chapter 4

Movie!William Afton x OC

Series Content Warnings: SUBJECT TO CHANGE AT ANY TIME, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, murder, MASSIVE age gap (it’s like 30 years), smut, like, a lot of smut, much more to come i’m sure

Chapter Content Warnings: 18+ MINORS STAY AWAY FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, praise kink, fingering, dacryphilia (if you squint. kinda.), oral (f receiving), homegirl sees god in this chapter, overstimulation, swearing (thats the least of our concerns rn)

As per usual, thank you to my beloved @bowersbubbles for beta reading and by far my favorite divider!

Clara sleeps all day when she gets home, ignoring the flashing voicemail button on her landline as she throws her bag on the table and falls into her bed, barely managing to kick her shoes off before getting comfortable. Her alarm goes off at 10 again, and she goes through the making and packing dinner routine before heading out again. It’s nicer out tonight, so she opts for a pair of jeans and a zip up hoodie layered over an ancient band t-shirt.

The drive is uneventful, and Freddy’s looks perfectly normal from the outside as Clara pulls up and parks, the full moon shining bright. The ‘being watched’ feeling is back and it’s making her nauseous, but she pushes on, chalking it up to pre-menstrual hormones or some shit.

Clara unlocks the door, not noticing the lack of resistance as she does. She goes to heave open the door and falls, scraping up her knee as she lands in a pile of shattered glass from one of the poster displays. She scrambles up and the adrenaline sets in as she takes in the entire mess inside - tables upside down, chairs knocked over, glass from the prize counter everywhere. She starts to tear up out of fear, not realizing just how badly she’s hurt.

Clara pulls up her recently called and clicks through to Steve’s number, dialing it without hesitation. The phone rings and she sniffles, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve. It picks up on the third ring, and she barely gives him time to say anything.

“Hey, it-it’s me, it’s Clara, I need your help. There was a break in today and I just got in and there’s glass everywhere and- and I hurt myself and I don’t know what to do.” She sniffles again and cuts Steve off as he starts to talk.

“Oh fuck- oh my God, you were probably asleep, I’m so sorry. Just.. go back to bed. I-I can handle this.” Clara moves to hang up but he catches her. “Hey, woah, Clara, take a deep breath. Where are you right now? Go to the office, okay? Can you do that?” He’s obviously worried, and somewhere deep down, Clara appreciates it.

She sniffles and nods before realizing he can’t see her. “Yeah, I can get to the office..”

“Good, there’s a first aid kit in the locker. Do what you can, I’ll be there in 10.” “Oh, I’m- that- that really isn’t necessary, I just.. I think I panicked, is all. I’ll be okay.” She fumbles over her words for a moment. Steve chuckles, “I’m already on my way, Clara. I’ll be there in 10.”

The line dies. 

It’s closer to seven minutes before Steve shows up, and he doesn’t bother to knock or ring the buzzer. He makes his way straight to the office, and startles Clara as he opens the door. “Jesus Christ! Fuck, sorry.. I didn’t hear you come in..” Clara’s holding the flashlight like a weapon in one hand, her knee bandaged up and her free hand wrapped poorly with gauze.

“Clara.. I didn’t think it was that bad when you said you’d hurt yourself. C’mere, let me take a look.” Steve crosses the room to the small folding table with the first aid kit on it. He rifles through it for a second before pulling a chair out and motioning for Clara to sit down. “I’m not gonna hurt you, c’mon.”

Clara sits and starts unwrapping her hand, wincing at the sight of the gash spanning thumb to pinkie. “I.. I tripped on something and cut it on a piece of glass.. I think I got it all out.” Steve stares at her hand for a couple seconds too long before taking it in his and checking she really did get all the detritus out.

“You’re one tough cupcake, I’ll give you that. I don’t know many full grown men that would choose to dig glass out of an open wound, much less ask someone for help.” Steve starts wrapping her hand, making sure she can still wiggle her fingers. Claras face flushes pink as he talks, her eyes fixed firmly on her hand. 

“Thank you, Mr. Raglan..” She’s quiet, still sniffling a little. 

Steve chuckles and finishes wrapping Clara's hand, shifting to kneel in front of her to take a look at her knee, the denim shredded. “Call me Steve. ‘Mr. Raglan’ makes me feel ancient.”

She laughs a little, her eyes fixed on his hands. Steve’s a good foot taller than she is, and that in and of itself gives Clara butterflies in her stomach. “So, Steve.. Do you have a wife? Is she gonna come after me for calling in the middle of the night?” She jokes, trying to break the silence. “No, no. I was married, once upon a time, but she passed.” He looks up at Clara and her face goes pink. “Oh- I’m so sorry, I didn’t know..” She’s mortified, frozen stiff in her seat. 

“It’s okay, really. It’s been long enough I’ve moved on.” Steve smiles at her and she nods, relaxing a bit. He’s got one hand on her thigh, the other on the outside of her knee, and Clara feels her heart skip a beat. She knows exactly what she’s feeling and it’s embarrassing. The images flashing through her head, the sounds, it’s enough to make her shift uncomfortably in the seat. “You’re in college, yeah? You have a boyfriend?” Steve asks, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Oh- well, that's.. It’s complicated. He’s not exactly the kind of boy you’d bring home for the holidays. Not that I do much going home anyway..” Clara trails on, her eyes locked on his hands as she speaks.

“A bad boy, huh? I never would have guessed.” 

Clara scoffs a little and nods, “Yeah, something like that.” 

They sit in silence together for a handful of seconds before Clara locks eyes with Steve, her stomach doing flips as his hands creep up her thighs ever so slightly. She acts before she can think rational thoughts, and cups his face with both of her hands and kisses him. 

Steve freezes as she does, caught entirely by surprise, and Clara's heart drops into her stomach as she pulls away and lets him go, her hands in her lap. “I-I’m so sorry- I don’t- I shouldn’t ha-” 

“Hey, Clara, it’s okay.” He sits back on his heels, putting Claras hands back on his face. “There’s something else you need help with too, isn’t there?” She nods, unable to will the words to come out. Her stomach’s in knots, and her face is warm to the touch. “Use your words, sweetheart.” Steve's hands drop back to her thighs and he smirks as he sees the gears turning in her head.

“I.. oh God .. You should go.” Clara moves to get up, but he stops her. “I’m not leaving until you get exactly what you want. We both know that little purple vibrator you have stashed underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, and your tool of a boyfriend is all but useless.” Steve’s voice is low, the dim lighting in the office making him that much more intimidating. His hands creep up her thighs to her waist, then to the button on her jeans. She squirms in her seat as he starts to undo them, letting out a desperate whine as he stops. “Sweetheart, I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. Tell me what you want.”

“I- Steve.. Fuck… I want you.. Please.” Clara whines and pouts, her chest already heaving with anticipation as she shifts forward in the chair.

Steve’s eyes light up and he wastes no time getting her jeans pulled off, her underwear pulled with them. He looks up at her as he dips a finger between her folds, just barely brushing her clit as Clara whines and drops her head back. “Music to my fucking ears..”

He kisses the inside of her thighs as he pushes them apart, her hands gripping the armrests of the chair. Steve brushes the pad of his finger over her clit again and she squirms, earning a low groan of approval from him. He repeats the motion over and over, admiring the way her body tenses at even the slightest touch. She’s babbling incoherently as he stops. Clara’s on the verge of tears, the stimulation simultaneously too much and not enough, her brain clouded with need.

“Steve- fuck- pleasepleaseplease just- oh God.. make me come, please..” She whines, her nails dug into her palms as she keeps herself from crying.

“Such a sweet melody..” Steve hums in appreciation before pulling Clara to the edge of the chair, draping one of her legs over his shoulder. “All you had to do was ask, sweet girl.” His beard tickles the inside of her thighs as he kisses a trail towards her cunt.

Steve starts devouring her with such fervor, like a starved man. He pushes one- two- almost three fingers in, and Clara gets hit with pleasure so suddenly, her hands are in Steves hair, tugging and pulling with every curl of his fingers. He groans, the hum reverberating through her core. It’s not long before Clara is clenching around his digits, practically seeing stars. Steve is relentless, continuing even after she’s come down from her high, the near constant barrage making her tear up. 

“S-Steve- fuck- please, I ca-an’t take anymore-” She hiccups as she cries and pushes him away, his glasses sitting on the tip of his nose. Steve sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, carefully nudging Claras knee off his shoulder. She catches her breath for a minute after Steve helps her redress, careful of her knee. 

“‘S your hand okay? And your knee? I uh.. I got a little carried away.” He’s leaning against the table, running a hand through his hair. Clara looks him in the eye for a moment and her face goes pink. “I’m okay..” She’s quiet, butterflies still churning in her stomach. “It really doesn’t seem like it, Clara.. Did I push a limit?” Steve pulls a chair over and sits in front of her, holding her hands. She shakes her head no and sniffles, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“I’m okay, really.. You should go, I’m sorry I called you so late.” Clara stands and nods towards the door, crossing her arms. Steve knows better than to push, so he leaves without complaint. What Clara doesn’t see is how Steve fucks his fist when he gets to his car, her begging and pleading playing on repeat in his head even as he drives home.

The rest of her night is spent cleaning the place up, careful to not hurt herself again.

[yourlocalartsonist]

ROTTMNT Moths Fly In Packs - Chapter Four

A/N: Hello I have returned with yet another chapter for y'all to feed on! I am lowkey so happy the fanfic's going on for so long cuz I have a history of abandoning projects after like the third chapter, so clearly tis a sign I might actually keep this fic long running for years and years to come :D I know I have a lot of ideas for it so I'm def taking a few years on this one but oh well I'm having fun. Hope you guys like this one, tidepod duo is one of my favs and I got to implement some of my own lore bits here and there and foreshadow certain things... Also can y'all believe the Hidden City Zoo was mentioned in one of the episodes but we never got to actually see it like fuck u Nickelodeon, now I'm forced to write a self-indulgent fanfic so my brain can finally rest >:( But yee tell me your fav parts if y'all feel like it <3

Also! Credit to: @sweaterrat for being my beloved beta reader, and my irl friend "The Leo Hater Reading a Leo Fanfic" for inspiring some quotes~

*Phuphu means "paternal aunt" in Bangla

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Chapter One

Disclaimer: Chapter involves themes of abusive family, mention of death, violence, and curse words. If you're sensitive to that stuff, scroll past and stay safe!

“Remember we’ll be back by nine, this place better be spotless or you’re staying up and making sure it is!”

“I know Phuphu*, I’ve got it. You and Meeta just enjoy your day.”

My aunt called for her daughter who was still at the mirror adjusting how she looked, smoothening out her patterned gold dress and putting any flyaway strands back in place. They were both going to a birthday party for one of my aunt’s friend’s sister’s brother-in-law’s son and, as usual, I wasn’t invited. Instead, I got tasked with keeping the apartment in check while they’re gone in case there’s an explosion or something. They never give me a better reason. 

“Hurry up child, we’re going to be late!”

“Mommy you’re the one who always says beauty takes time.” 

Meeta took one last look in the mirror and joined her mom at the door.

“Well, don’t you look stunning!”

“Um, of course I do? Have I ever not looked perfect?” There it is, my ever so humble cousin. I mean don’t get me wrong I admire her confidence, just crosses a line when she starts putting others down for not looking as good as her. And by others I mostly mean me.

But regardless, it was true. Meeta did look stunning all day everyday. She’s only fifteen but still considered the beauty of our family, especially to our relatives outside America. Tall, dark eyes, milky skin. Shiny black hair done up in a tight bun. Meeta takes great care to always look picture perfect.

I waved goodbye as they left for the party. It did feel a little bad, never getting to tag along and join them anywhere. But then again, eight years of technically being in debt to my aunt didn’t exactly leave any respect for me so parties are the least of my concerns. She acts as if not yelling at me for one minute would end with tragedy just because she’s letting me stay here for free. My only form of compensation: taking care of the house. Cleaning, shopping, running errands, all that jazz. It’s either that or a job so I chose household chores, it’s got more perks.

Like getting to choose my own schedule! As always, I was told ahead of time that they’d be out today so while my aunt and Meeta were sleeping last night, I got the majority of the cleaning done (with the exception of their rooms, of course). I asked Jaiden if we could hang out today and miraculously they agreed so I had to make sure today's cleaning would take no more than an hour, even if that sacrificed a little bit of sleep yesterday. All I’ve gotta do now is just some light sweeping. Totally worth it in my opinion.

Soon after I was done, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and saw it was a call from Jaiden. Fumbling with the buttons I eventually managed to answer.

“Jaiden? Are you out already? Give me like ten minutes I’ll-”

“I can’t make it.”

Wait, what? “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I can’t make it today, something came up. I just wanted to quickly call you and let you know.”

Beep!

They hung up.

My heart sank thinking about their words. Something came up? I’ve been so excited to hang out with Jaiden all day and now something came up? We already haven’t spent much time together lately. They don’t talk as much at school and stopped responding to my texts. I got worried I did something wrong but every time I’d gain the courage to ask they’d just say they were low on energy and I’d accept that answer because what else could I do? After all of this time of practically begging them, I finally got them to agree on making plans in hopes we could talk and now today of all days something just happened to come up? 

I sighed and quickly returned to rationality. It must be a last minute situation, I mean they barely even called for a minute. Probably something important or maybe a parent randomly said no. Jaiden did say their parents are a bit flip-floppy. Either way, no point in getting mad at Jaiden, it’s not in their control. I begrudgingly shoved my phone back in my pocket and paced around the house trying to entertain myself. I’ve already cleaned every nook and cranny I could bullshit into justifying as a mess so that’s not an option. I don’t really have any inspiration to work on my art or writing either. 

I went into my room and flopped on the bed. 

Ugh, this sucks! It’s only three pm, I still have so many hours to kill. Maybe I should just take a nap. 

Before I could try to doze off to dreamland, a sound forced my eyes back open.

A knock? At my window?

But when I stuck my head outside no one was there. So either the wind was being a little bitch or I’m so depressed I’m hallucinating. I groaned and was about to go back to bed but, the very second I turned my back, two voices shouted in unison before I got tackled to the ground. 

“Surprise attack!”

My poor back stung against the hard floor as the two mutant idiots curled around me. 

“Leo, Mikey! I missed you guys! But, um, I do still need to breathe.” 

We sat up, still on the floor and my soul eventually returned to my body. 

Mikey flashed a vibrant grin ���So, whatcha doing? Any plans or are you free today!? Please say you’re free!”

“Oh, I am now, I guess. I was supposed to hang out with a friend but they canceled last minute so my day just about cleared up.”

“Aww sorry to hear that Salena.” And he’s back to hugging. I’d be more annoyed if Mikey didn’t give such great hugs, he’s as soft as a sponge. “But, on the bright side, that means you can come hang out with us now! Leo and I were planning on going to a zoo and-”

“A ZOO!?” 

Am I dreaming because holy daze it feels like I am! I could barely contain my giddy giggles the entire walk over. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to a zoo literally my entire life! Getting up close and personal with all the amazing different animals! I mean don’t get me wrong, books are great but it’d be so different to see one in person! I feel like I’d get carried away and go inside the enclosure, though, but that’s fine! Just the usual intrusive thoughts and stuff!” 

“Hey Salena, love the enthusiasm and it’s really great to see you so happy but, maybe you should save your energy for when we actually get there?”

“Sorry! I’m just so excited!”

“Yeah, I had a feeling you’d enjoy this.” He smiled and turned back to Mikey. “Hey Angelo, we there yet?”

“Yepperoni! Just give it a sec and let the Master of Mystic Arts do his thing.” Mystic arts?

He held out his hands and they started glowing. Contrasting with the neon blue I’m used to seeing, a portal opened up in sunset colors. 

“Guys, am I missing something? Why are we opening a portal?” I glanced over at Leo for some answers only to be met by his stupid amused smirk.

“So, we may have hidden a tiny little detail about this zoo trip.”

“Damn, you don’t say?” 

Mikey, the only thing between me and the glowing mystery hole, stepped off to the side. “We weren’t just gonna go to any regular zoo. We’re going to the Hidden City Zoo!”

Hidden City? Oh wait, that’s the place Raph talked about, the reason why there were so many Yōkai near my house! This is probably one of the gateways to it? I leaned in a bit closer, a little more cautious than usual. It sounded thrilling to explore the Hidden City but a zoo? What kind of animals could a mutant zoo have? 

“Um, we’re not gonna get immediately mauled death by some crazy rabid mutant lion or something, right?”

“Dunno. Only one way to find out!”

“What.”

The blue bastard pushed me through without hesitation as my poor knees made contact with the hard, rocky surface on the other side. I thought of letting my violent desires get the better of me for a minute. Until... 

The new world in front of me left me starstruck.

The sky painted in various hues of pink and gold, an enormous entrance built on seafoam-colored stone displaying the words Hidden City Zoo. Peeking inside it only got better, the place was littered with wild and wacky creatures I’ve never even dreamed could exist! And in the distance, I think I can make out a rollercoaster?

It seems like Mikey’s in just as much awe as I am “Omigosh look at how big it is! And it has an amusement park nearby? This place is even cooler than I thought!”

“Dudes, what’d I tell you, this was totally a great idea! Ugh, I should’ve gone here last time instead of that stupid spa.”

“Why didn’t you just go after the spa?”

“Oh cause we all got thrown in jail. A dumb bird and an evil wig framed me for theft so that kinda took up the whole day.”

“But Dad and I bailed them out and saved the day! Who’s the best turtle now Leon~” 

A giggle escaped my lips “The fact that I’m not even surprised. Now c’mon, enough blabbering, we gotta go explore!” 

A mutant zoo is somehow exactly what I expected it to be but also completely different at the same time. Most of these guys look like regular animals, just bigger and louder. But a few others actually reminded me of more traditional Yōkai I saw in a book about Japanese folklore. I remember Mom used to hate how interested I was in it, which was pretty strange since she herself was Japanese. That was the only thing I ever knew of her heritage. She kept trying to tell me Yōkai knowledge was useless and I’d have way more fun learning about real animals instead. Unfortunately for her, my curiosity was not one to be quenched so I simply ended up learning about both. 

I looked at one of the bear Yōkai, they’re called onikuma I think. We made eye contact and either I need to get my vision checked or it just smiled at me. Weren’t these supposed to be wild animals? Come to think of it actually, the more Yōkai-looking creatures resembled the mutants outside the zoo enclosures more than the ones inside. You know, the guys walking around on two feet wearing clothes and taking pictures on their phones the same way we were and are very obviously not wild animals. 

“Whatcha writing, Salena?” the tangerine looked over my shoulder while I was typing on my notes app.

“Oh, just trying to learn a bit more about these guys. I don’t know why but something just feels-” 

Before I could finish my sentence, my stomach chose violence sending a sharp pain through my body as it rumbled louder than a whale call. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to eat today.”

“You do that too?”

Mikey let out a dramatically loud gasp “What is wrong with y’all? How can anyone forget to eat? We’re getting food right now.”

“Chillax Mikey, I’ll be fine! We can wait a little-”

“Don’t make me go Doctor Delicate Touch on you.”

“N-Nevermind.”

We were unwillingly dragged by the terrifying midget to a food booth nearby. I mean, it’s not too bad honestly, the food in the Hidden City is way better than in New York. We got a super delicious burger packed with juicy meat, creamy cheese, tomatoes that actually taste like something, and… worm fries. I avoided that last delicacy but Leo seemed to enjoy it. Mikey on the other hand wrote down every tiny detail while rambling to himself the whole time. 

“Don’t mind him, Mikey loves to cook. Sometimes he tries remaking recipes of any food we liked outside.”

“Ahem, I don’t just recreate them, I improve them!”  

I looked at the giant burger in my hands amazed at Mikey’s confidence. “You want to improve this? This is literally the best burger I’ve ever had in my life! How could you top this?”

“Yeah, Miguel, you sure you’re good enough for this one?” He glared as Leo playfully stuck out his tongue. 

“You’ll just have to wait and be impressed! But on another note, how’re you doing Salena? Enjoying the day so far?”

“Enjoying doesn’t even begin to describe it! Everything is so cool here! I’ve always wanted to go to a zoo like this. I bugged my parents about it a lot when I was younger but we never had enough money for the tickets and stuff. They promised they’d take me one day but…” They died before they could. 

I never realized how I completely forgot about that. Life got so busy that getting upset over zoos seemed too silly to do anymore.

I snapped back to reality feeling the boys’ eyes on me.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin the mood-”

They hugged me. 

“It’s a good thing we took you here then!”

“Yeah, consider it a thank you gift for Mr. and Mrs. Moni.”

This feels… warm. And familiar? It’s a hug. I’ve hugged plenty of people. But those hugs felt different. I feel so small right now and that’s strangely a good thing. Everything is warm and cozy and a little dreamy. 

I think the last time a hug felt like this was when my parents were still here.

The rest of the day went by delightfully. We took a stupid amount of pictures - mostly because Leo wanted to boast to Raph and Donnie later - and Mikey even dragged us on to a few of the rides at the amusement park. The mood felt a little softer than before. I’m not entirely used to it but I honestly don’t mind.

But as usual, the pleasantly chill vibe can never last for too long. A loud crash grabbed our attention towards one of the exhibits where a bunch of employees were scrambling around with cages in their arms. Mikey managed to stop one of them mid-panic to ask what’s going on.

“Something broke the glass and now they all escaped!”

I caught Leo inspecting the broken glass. Following his eyes, they landed on what seemed to be a giant crab claw. He quickly noticed the two culprits in the distance frolicking around in acrobat uniforms and groaned. “Ugh, I think I know who that something was.”

“Who are those guys?”

“The Sando brothers. We just can’t enjoy a single day of peace can we?” Mikey grit his teeth with a murderous glint in his eyes. Like I said, soft as a sponge. Just when he’s mad, he’s as soft as a sponge left out too long without water.

The employee was focused more on the escaped critters and rushed off before we could ask anything else. “They’ll wreck everything! We need to catch them before they wreck everything!”

“Hey wait! What animal got loose!?”

I squinted at the label trying to read the small text, immediately filled with dread now understanding everyone’s panic. One of the raccoon-sized demons hissed to my right, preparing to pounce.

“Uh, guys? This was a shrew enclosure!”

“A what enclosure?”

“Duck!” 

“Wha- GAH!” It would seem I managed to avoid it at the expense of traumatizing the blueberry. “GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!”

Mikey kicked the shrew off revealing poor Leo’s scratched up and terrified face. “Why are they so violent!?”

“They’re shrews, that’s their job! But they’re usually no bigger than a human palm, I can’t believe ooze could supersize them that much.” I quickly wrote down the new info on my phone as Mikey helped Leo up.

“Leo, what’s the plan?”

He looked at the crabs while dusting himself off “We should probably take care of the circus clowns before they destroy anything else. What do ya say, Angelo? Think you can keep up with professional acrobats?”

“You know I can! Cowabunga!”

“Wait! What do I do?” 

“Oh, Mikey and I can take care of this. You don’t wanna just lay low till we’re back?”

“And let you two hog all the fun? I thought you knew me better than that.”

He softly chuckled “Right, adrenaline junkie, how could I forget?” He looked at the several mutant shrews raging havoc all over the place “Well, we could use someone to help catch the… shrews right? You seem to know a bunch about them. Maybe you could help make sure they don’t destroy the whole place.”

My eyes lit up “You got it chief!” 

“If you need any help, holler!” 

I went over to the employees. Some of them were still trying to capture the tiny devils while a few others were getting a mystic wall ready where the glass broke, I’m assuming to temporarily keep them in. I’ll need a plan to get all the shrews in there. Mindlessly chasing around already proved to be a fail. 

I know I definitely read about this before. Shrews are carnivorous, they like eating things like snails and slugs but those were the regular-sized shrews. What could I feed these giants?

Think, think, think. There’s gotta be something around here I can bait them with…

“Wait! The burgers! Of course!”

I bolted inside a kitchen and scanned around for any giant clumps of meat.

“Hey, kid! Who are you, what are you even doing here?” 

“Sorry, I’m in a hurry. Shrew problems.” 

“What?”

I looked past the confused guy and saw what I was looking for. Shoving down my guilt, I grabbed a bunch of bacon patties and ran out the kitchen. 

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry, it’s a necessary sacrifice!”

Back outside, I found a shrew and waved one of the patties, catching its attention. 

“Over here, buddy!” Usually, thin bacon strips would be enough to lure them but I figured giant meat circles were more appropriate for these guys.

Once I got it close enough to the enclosure, I threw the patty in letting the shrew jump after it, getting trapped behind the transparent magic wall. One by one, all the menace mice were eventually recaptured. Not gonna lie, I’m still a little surprised it actually worked. 

“Salena, look out!” 

I dodged to Mikey’s instruction just in time for another giant crab claw to fly bullet-speed past me getting absorbed into the wall. It would seem mystic glass can’t really be broken, good thing too since the shrews escaping again would’ve broken my will to live alongside it. 

Unfortunately, I spent too long collecting myself and got snatched up by the back of my shirt, now facing the presumed Sando brothers.

“Look Carl, it’s the gross little human that keeps ruining our plan!” 

“Ha! Look at it swing!”

“Put me down you bald red freak!”

He suddenly looked at me in pain as if my dream of breaking his dumb claws open had actually come true “B-bald?..”

“Did you just call my brother bald!?”

“I can’t believe that’s the part you’re focused on.”

“I… I used to be so beautiful with my luscious long locks before I got turned into this! You still got to keep your hair, why was life so cruel to me!?” The red nuisance began pouring a waterfall of tears.

“See what you did!? Now you made him cry! Hey, it’s alright Ben, that human doesn’t know beauty when they see it.” Are you serious.

“You’re right! We should do something awful to it! Something that’ll make them regret calling me bald!”

“Yeah like!.. Like…”

“Ooh, I know! We should eat it!” 

“DUDE! Why is that the first thing you think of!?”

A familiar taunting voice joined in the conversation “Lame! You guys are so awful at plans, no wonder you got outsmarted by a regular ol’ human!” I’d be offended if I wasn’t preoccupied with my confusion. 

“Excuse me!? Did you just call my brother lame!?”

“Why does the universe hate me today!?”

“I’d like to see you idiots do any better!”

“Oh-ho we could do so much better, right Mikey?”

“What are you guys-”

“Duh! I mean there are rollercoasters everywhere and they didn’t even realize higher ground would speed things up by a trillion.”

HUH!? “No no no no no no! We do not need to go higher ground!”

“Hey come to think of it, Mike, dropping someone from a high place is a pretty heinous thing to do, too. Way worse than eating them.”

“OH YOU TWO ARE SO DEAD IF I’M NOT!”

“Ben, they actually have a point.”

“Y-yeah they kinda do… Welp doesn’t matter if we take credit for it, anyway! See ya later, jerks!”

They jumped onto the coaster as I helplessly awaited my fate, praying the dumbass turtles had some sort of plan and didn’t just use me as live bait for the crab monsters. 

“Look down at your death tiny pest! I bet it’d take you days just to finally hit the ground!”

“Woah, you really think we’re that high up, Ben?”

“Yeah! Or actually, no not really, I think it’ll only take like a minute or something.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound as cool. Should we go higher ground-”

“UGH! Why does it matter, I’m dead either way you buffoons!”

“Oh yeah, good point.” He let go of me and off I was screaming as I fall to my doom.

But just above me, a pair of chains wrapped around the rollercoaster and snapped it like a stick, sending idiot crab men falling down with me. Still in shock, I didn’t notice the blue katana fly by, teleporting a smirking turtle just in time to catch me. 

“Leo?”

“Missed me?~” He drew his blade mid-air and opened a portal landing us to safety. 

“You didn’t think we actually ditched you, did you?”

“Aha, I was starting to…”

I looked past his shoulder towards the sound of Mikey’s hyper yelps.

“It’s mystic time, baby!” I gawked as the orange portal, just like the one from earlier today, opened up swallowing the terrified acrobats and sending them to who knows where. 

“Mikey can open portals, too!?”

“Don’t tell me you thought there was a gateway to the Hidden City directly outside the zoo.”

“Actually, yeah I kinda did.”

Mikey walked over pressing against the glass wall between us. Wait, glass? Where even are we?

“Leo, Salena! Are you guys okay?”

“Don’t worry, little brother, we’re perfectly fine. We just gotta get out here.”

“Uh…L-Leo!” He followed my frightened gaze to the giant mutant bullfrogs behind us. 

“So that’s what the glass was for.”

“RUN!”

I grabbed his hand and started sprinting away from the green enemy, making sure to dodge the enormous pink tongue currently hunting us.

“You know, for someone who supposedly failed gym, you’re pretty light on your feet.”

I furrowed my brows, more towards his accusation than his inappropriately relaxed smirk “I did fail gym! You’re just lucky dodgeball’s the only sport I’m good at.”

We hid behind a nearby rock, gasping and trying to catch our breaths.

“Man, of all the places you could’ve picked, why’d you portal us here?”

“Hey, it’s not like I meant to! My portals mess up when I panic.”

“You were panicking?”

He looked just as surprised as I did “Ah-”

“Guys! Are you dead?!” his comms let out Mikey’s panicked voice.

“We’re okay, Mikey. Just resting for a bit.”

“Oh good. Cause uh, THE COPS ARE HERE! WE’VE GOTTA MOVE!”

“The cops? Eugh boy.”

“Wait why is that a bad thing? Does the Hidden City not have Good Samaritan laws or something?”

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck “So uh, remember the whole ‘us getting thrown into jail’ thing? Yeah, we may or may not still be wanted criminals for that whole shebang.”

“You said you got bailed out!”

“I never said legally!”

“Oh my god.”

He peeked from behind the rock, making eye contact with Mikey still waiting for us outside the enclosure.

“Okay, I’ve got an idea but we’ve gotta make a run for it. You ready to leave the zoo?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve had enough mutant mayhem for one day.”

We raced past the mutant frog. Leo swung his sword one last time, creating a portal, and shoved it so it reached both sides of the glass barrier. The three of us dove in as it closed behind, falling back to a soft carpeted floor. 

I rubbed my head and looked around “My room… M-My room! Omigosh we made it guys, we’re alive!” 

Mikey and Leo were a little less celebratory than I thought they’d be. 

“Sorry for dragging you into a fight, Salena. Again. Man, that’s the second time that’s happened. Which, I guess it isn’t a lot, but still weird it happened twice.”

“Ugh, this was supposed to be a fun, relaxing trip to the zoo. I can’t believe those stupid crab jerks showed up and ruined it.”

I had no idea they’d be so dejected over this. 

“Who said anything about ruined?” They looked at me puzzled by my unfazed smile.

“Did you hit your head or something? We should check for injuries. Leo-”

“No, guys, I’m fine! Really!”

“You almost died twice today and you think that wouldn’t ruin anything?”

“Okay, yeah, that would’ve been inconvenient if I did, but I didn’t! I mean, come on! Think about literally everything else that happened! My first ever zoo and we just so happened to save it from disaster that exact same day? Guys, this was amazing!” I let myself breathe a bit, feeling the adrenaline calm down. “Life’s been so much better ever since I met you.”

Leo stared at me silently while Mikey caved into his emotions. “That’s it, I can’t take it anymore! Group hug!” 

The teary tangerine pulled us in. For a while, we all stayed like that, cuddled on the floor. Warm, cozy, and comfortable. As weirdly thrilling as the danger was, I think the hugs were still my favorite part about today. 

I would’ve loved to just enjoy it a bit longer but my phone alarm rang, the one I always set to be an hour before my oh so beloved family returned.

“You better go. I don’t think my aunt would be very happy with two random turtles in my room.”

After our goodbyes, I happily jumped into bed ready for some quiet downtime. I guess even though I didn’t get to hang out with the person I initially planned to, today might have turned out better this way. I opened up Instagram and started scrolling and catching up on everything else in the world. A YouTuber posted a new video, a couple and their cat went on vacation, an artist opened up commissions. All in all, seemed to be a pleasant day for everyone else, too. 

My thumb paused. A new post from Zane. They were pictures from a party he went to today, seemed like he had fun.

I got to the last picture on his post. My eyes went wide, staying glued to the person next to him. Heavy eyes. Dark hair straightened into a ponytail.

I felt my stomach doing flips realizing who it was. 

“Jaiden?”

Next Chapter

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (7.5) (m.)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: exes au, fluff, Angst, smut; THE REASON™️, crying because obviously there's gonna be crying, mentions of hobi leaving :(, cursing, uhm she hits him; kissing (well, of course 😂), br*ast play, t*tty s*cking, oral s*x (f. receiving), f*ngering, unprotected s*x, r*ding, cr*ampie, uhm idk i think that's it word count: 6.9k (poetic, i know) note (1): holy fucking shit i am literally shaking like a chihuahua as i'm writing this a/n. what the hell it's finally here. we've been waiting for this for almost a year and a half. TREMENDOUS thanks to Jo @daechwitatamic, Ari @/wintaerbaer (edited 2024: crossed out but not removed bc even tho she plagiarized obs afterward, she did beta this for me so i guess i still gotta give her that lmfao), and Jazz @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this for me and for reassuring me that it's not a load of crap (probably) and especially Jo for telling me if i back out she'll come kick me. frick! gaaaah. okay i'm gonna let you read or i'll go out of my mind

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I want you to smile, to feel like enough 'Cause you deserve yellow and lions and love I hope you come back when you're doing well Forgive me for being the worst of myself

New Recording 28 - Chelsea Cutler

The second the door is closed, his mouth is on yours again. 

His hand on your waist, yours in his hair, it’s similar to how it was mere minutes ago, just the urgency has increased tenfold. You want his suit off as much as you want your dress on the floor.

Jungkook detaches from your lips to let you breathe as he cages you between his body and the door, but it’s not like you can focus very well on breathing when he starts kissing down your neck, sucking bruises into your skin. His hands travel south, one palm curving around your hips to grope your ass, the other settling on the back of your thigh to lift it up, opening your legs wider so he could better slot in between them. With your leg lifted, it makes the slit in your dress ride up, exposing your core to the cool air of the room. You can feel his growing bulge pressed against you, right over your panties. 

You whimper his name when he sucks on the sweet spot on your neck, his hips grinding against you slowly.

“Yeah?” You can hear the smirk in that one simple word and the honey that drips from his voice. “What is it?”

“Want you…”

“I’m right here,” Jungkook says. His slender fingers rub you over the pink lace that you’re wearing underneath your dress, teasing your opening through the fabric for a few beats before he pushes your panties aside. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His breath is hot on your neck. He presses his lips against your skin absentmindedly, the tip of his index circling you but not pushing inside just yet.

“Tell me you want me too,” you pant, your arm hooking around his neck to hold him close.

“I want you.”

Truth.

You pull him in for another bruising kiss before you blindly push him further into the room, your hands roaming the broad expanse of his clothed chest. He stops when the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Hey.” Jungkook breaks away from the kiss to look at you. “Are you sure?”

If Jimin knew what you’re doing right now, he’d say that you have zero self preservation instincts.

He’d be right, though. If you had any self preservation instincts, you wouldn’t be doing this.

Your stupid, battered heart has only ever wanted him.

“I’m sure,” comes your immediate reply. It’s desperate, but you don’t have it in yourself to even care. “I’m sure. I want this. Please.”

“You were drinking.”

“I’m not drunk. I promise.”

Maybe it’d be better if you were drunk. Then you could at least blame this lapse of judgment on a pathetic state of inebriation and not on your stupid self who’s always weak for him.

He stares at you for a minute, searching for any sign of your willingness being driven by alcohol. He seems relieved when he finds none, and it isn’t until then that he shrugs off his jacket, before helping you take off his dress shirt and trousers.

You haven’t seen him like this in so long.

Every defined line on his body, accentuating every detail that you could spend hours running your fingers over.

He looks different but at the same time, not really. A tad more muscular, but still the same lean frame. Hard chest and abs on full display for you. God, your fingers are fucking twitching with the need to touch him.

Once he’s been stripped down to his boxers, he leans down to kiss you before you stop him with a hand on his chest. The lone tiger lily on his arm catches your attention.

Your fingers reach out to trace the black ink on his body, the lines delicate, your touch feather light. You’re suddenly curious. When did he get it? You can’t remember if you two ever talked about getting tattoos.

“What does it mean?” you ask. It strikes you with the realization that this is just one of the thousands of things that you missed, a reminder of your lost time. 

“Please love me,” he says, bringing his hands up to cup your face. He looks at you, just for a few seconds, before clarifying, “It means ‘Please love me,’” then kissing you again.

Jungkook clumsily and blindly searches for the dress’ zipper on your back, giving it a few impatient tugs until it finally starts gliding down your body. Your lips never part from one another as the dress falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. But once you step out of it, he does pull back to look at you from head to toe. His eyes fall to your chest, clad in a lacy pink bra that matches your panties. The look he gives you is the same one that he did when he saw you in your dress earlier today. But there’s something else in his eyes - realization, pride, perhaps a question too.

His hands are back on your body instantly, throwing you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator. He discards your bra with ease, flinging it to the floor with the rest of your clothes. You shiver when the chilly air meets your bare chest, but the sensation quickly goes away when he takes your breast into his warm mouth. You let out a delighted sigh, arching your back to push yourself further into him as his tongue flicks over your stiff nipple. One of his hands comes up to squeeze your other breast to make sure that it isn’t neglected, rolling your pebbled bud between his thumb and forefinger. He switches to sucking your other tit after a while, then pawing at the one he just had in his mouth.

“Jungkook,” you whine his name when he makes out with your tits for too long, because there’s somewhere else that desperately requires his immediate attention. “Need you…”

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, and he looks pleased with himself when he sees that they’re thoroughly glistening with his spit. “Sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He starts making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your skin that’s on display for him, before you put a hand on his shoulder when his face gets close to your thighs.

“What are you doing?”

He looks up at you as his fingers ghost over the fabric of your panties. “Can I?”

You lick your lips, contemplating whether or not you have the patience to wait for him. But alas, you decide, “Okay.”

Jungkook makes quick work of sliding your underwear down your legs and letting it join the pile on the floor. Even in the dim light, he can see just how wet you are, practically glittering with arousal, looking so utterly inviting that it makes his mouth water. All of this, just for him.

He doesn’t waste another second, diving right into you to lick a stripe up your dripping folds. Swiftly burying two fingers into your heat, he doesn’t stop until he’s knuckles deep. Your lips part in a silent but delighted moan. You forgot how good he used to make you feel. Your fingers could never feel as good as his, not thick enough to stretch yourself open and not long enough to reach deep inside of you.

“Fuck,” you drawl, your eyes fluttering shut when the tip of his tongue meets your throbbing clit, teasing it until you’re practically grinding against his face. You thread a hand into his hair, gripping his dark locks until he’s groaning, sending blissful vibrations all throughout your body. The figure 8’s that his tongue draws on your clit sets you alight, sends you into a whole other dimension completely as pleasure courses through your veins. 

“So good,” he mumbles. To you? To himself? You can’t tell, but that doesn’t really matter. “Still so good.”

You hear it, just how soaked you are, as he begins thrusting his digits in and out of you. He strokes your walls delicately with each press of his fingers, scissoring you open for what you know is to come. 

His tongue dips into your entrance then, teases your dripping hole as you pant heavily, 

Your legs close in on his head as the orgasm nears, but he keeps your thighs apart, firmly holding them open as he makes you unravel.

This is fucking unreal - Jungkook with his whole face tucked between your legs, desperate to make you come with his talented mouth. You never would have anticipated this when you woke up this morning.

No, just a while ago you were crying by yourself down at the beach. Now you’re crying out his name as he smothers himself in you.

Once he starts curling them inside of you, it’s embarrassing how fast you come. You clench hard around his fingers as the orgasm washes over you, dripping down his fingers and he uses the added wetness to carry you through the high.

“Jungkook…” you whimper, sounding completely fucked out even though it’s only just beginning. After a while, the heightened pleasure fades into the background, and he presses soft kisses against your inner thigh.

He crawls his way up your body until he’s facing you again. You watch his fingers and the way they’re coated in your juices, wondering what he’ll do with them next. Jungkook languidly smears the wetness all over your lips like he’s carefully painting them, only to kiss you afterward. When you moan against him, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your hand finds its way into his boxers then, wrapping your fingers around his hardened length, pumping him in your fist until he’s shallowly rutting against you.

The kiss gets broken when he suddenly pulls away, realization dawning on him. “Shit,” he exclaims. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, then you both just look at each other for a while. This isn’t a problem with no solution, even if the solution is a disastrous one in hindsight. You just want him, so badly that you can’t think of anything else.

He waits for you, doesn’t dare say anything else until you do.

Yet again, the opportunity presents itself for you to stop.

But you’ve already gone this far, and though it’s damn near impossible, you want him even more than you did before.

“Are you clean?” you ask.

It’s evident that he’s surprised by the way his eyes widen, and his silence that follows for the next half a minute. “Yeah,” he tells you.

“Okay. Then we don’t need a condom.”

He says your name once, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face sweetly. You always did like your name best when it used to fall from his lips so softly. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. I promise.”

Jungkook sucks in a breath, like he’s steadying himself, before he rids himself of the remaining piece of clothing on his body, then settles between your legs again. This time, his cock rests directly on your bare pussy. The anticipation makes it harder for you to breathe, makes you squeeze your thighs around his waist to not let him leave.

“How long has it been?”

Your answer is vague. “Too long,” you say. You don’t want to tell him that there’s been no one else since him, but you have a feeling that he understands it anyway. You think that he’d be pleased with your answer, that maybe it would boost his ego in a way, but there’s only a certain sadness that settles in his eyes. 

“Okay.” Regardless, he pushes past the sudden gloom that befalls his features, blinking away the disheartenment swimming in his irises, to align himself with your entrance. He rubs his cock against your pussy to coat you in his precum, even though you yourself are certainly more than wet enough for him to slide home easily. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you confirm, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he eases the tip into you, making the both of you moan at the contact. You feel him, all of him.

For a second, you wonder if he has ever forgone protection with anyone else, or if it’s only ever been just you.

Jungkook takes one of your hands off his shoulder to lay it flat on the bed next to your head, lacing your fingers together, giving your hand a slight squeeze. “Breathe. You can do it.”

“Give me a minute.”

“We’ve got time,” he says, his voice smooth like velvet.

“Can you kiss me?” you ask, almost like you’re shy even though he’s balls deep inside of you.

He chuckles lightly, so endeared by you and your silly question.

His lips meet yours sweetly, like doing so would help make the stretch less painful. Maybe it does, at least a little bit. 

You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and he’s probably trying so hard to hold back, but he keeps kissing you nonetheless.

“You can move,” you say after a while.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay.”

He rears his hips back, slowly, then thrusts forward again. You whimper from the slight burn, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. His movements are gentle for the next couple of minutes or so, and it isn’t until you start opening up more that he sets a steadier pace. Even when he starts to fuck you faster, one of his hands is still on your hips, rubbing your skin soothingly. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts out, followed by a sigh of your name as he pumps into your cunt, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging deliciously in and out of your walls. “You feel so good.”

He gazes down at you as he moves, and there’s just something so intimate about it that it makes you want to cry again.

You know what it’s like to have him fuck you, and this isn’t it.

No, this is something else entirely.

I love you, you think. I love you so fucking much.

“Missed you.” His words come out hushed, caught in half a moan, half a whimper. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“Did you think about me?”

“Always,” he says, without even missing a beat.

“No,” you clarify. “When you were sleeping with other people, did you think about me?”

“I only thought about you.” His hips stutter as he tells you this, like he’s confessing to something that he shouldn’t. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You never admitted this to anyone, not even Taehyung even though he probably sensed it, but you used to feel like you could be physically sick just looking at the photos on his feed every time you’d lurk on a drunken night. They were never flashy, just subtle enough for you to know that there was someone. It made you nauseous, because the place next to him was always supposed to be yours.

You just stare at him, not knowing how to process this bit of information. Sure, it’s an ego boost. There’s some pride in knowing that you were the one on his mind even if you weren’t together.

He’s so utterly gorgeous like this that you can’t form a single coherent thought, too lost in the way his eyes bore into yours and in the blossoming warmth that spreads all over your chest from hearing his words.

How did he manage to get even more beautiful? Sculpted by the gods. The standard for all men.

“What is it?” he asks when you stare at him for too long.

“I…” You blink away the daze. “I wanna be on top.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook slips out of you just long enough to get seated with his back against the headboard and pull you into his lap. You hover over him, letting his tip rub against your dripping hole for a moment before you sink onto him. You tip your head back and sigh as you envelope him fully again, the only difference is that you can feel him so much deeper like this.

He grabs your ass with both hands, kneading your skin as he helps you ride him. The sounds that you make together are downright obscene, bouncing off the walls, ringing in your ears.

“Harder,” you tell him shakily. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I want it to hurt,” you say, holding onto him like you’re bracing for impact, because you know he’ll give you what you want. “Make it hurt.”

Jungkook sighs once, then digs his heels into the mattress to steady himself before his hips go wild, thrusting into you with such force that it nearly has you sobbing, your head falling onto his shoulder. It makes you burn with pleasure, like a star before it becomes a supernova. When the tension starts building quickly, you can’t help but slam your hips down harder to meet his thrusts, to chase that high.

You press your lips against his skin, any spot you could find - his jaw, his neck, his shoulder. “Tell me you love me.”

The words are ready on the tip of his tongue, like he’s been waiting for an opportunity to say it. He doesn’t miss a single beat as he tells you, “I love you.”

“Mean it.”

“I do mean it. I love you.”

Truth.

For some sick and twisted reason, his words send you crashing over the edge, falling into that abyss of pleasure that you’ve been searching for. You say his name, over and over again, like you’re making up for all the years that he wasn’t around to hear it.

Your walls convulse wildly around him as you cry out, your toes curling, your thighs shaking. He holds you close, thrusting into you through your orgasm until you’re dizzy, like you could actually pass out from the overwhelming bliss.

“I’m close,” he tells you in a raspy voice.

You catch your breath long enough to say, “Come for me.”

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you say without much thought. If you were in a clearer state of mind, you would know that it’s reckless and stupid. You’re not on birth control, and if anything were to happen, you would have no one to blame but yourself.

But you aren’t in a clear state of mind, and maybe this is even more dangerous than if you were fueled by alcohol. At least you can sober up from alcohol.

You just want him so badly that rationality seems like a luxury you can’t afford right now.

“Y/N,” he whispers shakily, though there’s a warning edge to his voice that you understand.

“I want you to come inside me. I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

Jungkook groans at your answer. 

He doesn’t ask you to look at him, instead choosing to hide his face against your neck where you feel something wet glide down your skin as he grips your hips. It’s followed by a sniffle, and hands that hold onto you like you’re a lifeline. 

He’s crying, and that breaks your fucking heart.

You don’t know what to do. Part of you wants to tilt his chin up to look at you, because it feels strange without his tender gaze on you, but you decide against it even though the tips of your fingers tingle with the need to do so. 

Your walls clench with purpose, squeezing around him, trying to help you get there. It’s not that long before you hear your name falling from his lips in a choked out moan, so needy and beautiful and makes you nostalgic. He empties himself inside of you, making you shudder from the sudden warmth that he paints along your walls.

You stay in the same position for a few more minutes until your chest is no longer heaving with exhaustion and euphoria. He gently pulls you off his lap to lay you down on the bed, pressing an apologetic kiss against your bare shoulder when you wince from the oversensitivity, from any kind of movement at all. 

When he moves to throw on his boxers and goes to stand up, you reach for him. “Where are you going?” You instantly feel pathetic for asking.

He pauses, then squeezes your hand as that sadness from before makes an appearance in his eyes again. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he tells you, his voice quiet.

The relief on your face must be visible. “Okay,” you say. Rationally, you know he probably wouldn’t fuck you and leave you the second the deed is done. But again, rationality is a luxury at the moment.

Jungkook returns a couple of minutes later with a warm cloth, and dabs it between your legs to clean you up. You grimace when he touches you there, evidently sore already from the activities you just engaged in.

“Sorry,” he’s quick to say, though it isn’t really his fault. Or maybe it is his fault. You’re not sure if that even matters.

When he’s done, he gets under the covers with you. “Come here,” he says, then shuffles your body closer to his until he’s holding you with his hands on your bare waist. He leans down to kiss you, and you let him. God, you feel like you’re fucking melting.

It’s different from the kiss down at the beach, and it’s different from the needy ones you shared in the past hour. It’s soft and slow and easy, like there’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.

Jungkook breaks away eventually, and rests his forehead against yours then. One of his hands on your waist slides up to your ribs, until his thumb could brush the underside of your breast. The touch is gentle, sweet, completely innocent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He means everything he tells you. “You’re perfect.”

You even blush, like you’re a stupid lovesick teenager. “Tell me,” you say.

“Anything.”

You reckon it’s self-indulgent at this point. You’re only asking to feel better about your place in his life, or rather, the place that used to be yours.

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

He nudges his nose against yours. No hesitation. “I can’t live without you.”

Truth. You know it’s the truth.

Nonetheless… “Liar.” Your tone is soft. There’s no bite at all. You touch his face, trying to commit to memory every detail, how his soft skin feels under your touch as if it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see him like this. Maybe it is. You never got to have a last time with him, never got to know that it was ending before it already ended. You’re not thinking about the morning because you don’t want to, but the seed of anxiety is there in your belly. Your fingers trace his jawline as you say, “You lived without me. You were doing fine without me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek. “It wasn’t much of a life,” he says. “I couldn’t bear it without you.”

The thing is, you know that he’s being honest. And it should make you feel good that you affected him as much as he affected you.

But then… it keeps leading you back to that question. The question that you thought you could go the rest of your life without knowing the answer to. But for that to be possible, you needed him to stay gone, stay out of your world forever.

He shouldn’t be here, tangled up in the sheets with you and kissing you like his life depends on it. 

He shouldn’t tell you that he misses you, that he loves you. Shouldn’t tell you to please, love him too.

It’s contradictory, isn’t it? You needed to never see him again if you stood a chance of moving on with your life. You needed it and yet, all you wanted was to have him back by your side.

The tattoo catches your attention again. It feels like it’s laughing at you, mocking you.

You clench your teeth once, your eyes beginning to turn glassy. Jungkook sees it, and he’s quick to break up your train of thought. He presses his mouth to yours, shushing you with a deep kiss that makes your head spin, despite it all.

“Don’t think about it,” he mumbles against your lips, so desperate to get you to stop. As if he can sense where this could lead.

“How could I not? I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“You know me.” He holds onto your wrist, to keep your hand on his face before you can pull it away. “I’m still the same.”

“No, you’re not,” you say quietly, absentmindedly.

“Yes,” he insists. “Yes, I am.”

Maybe that’s true. Maybe you do see the person you used to know. But you only ever see him in glimpses and it always leaves you with a terrible, nauseous feeling afterward.

He doesn’t understand how much it hurts you to catch glimpses of the boy you used to love - the boy you still love - only to realize that maybe that isn’t the person he wants to be anymore. It feels like he keeps trying to kill that version of himself, like he despises the person who meant the world to you.

Are you gone forever?

Come back quietly.

“How old are you?” you ask after a moment.

The question makes him pause, his soft features twisting in confusion. He leans back a bit, so his eyes could focus on your face better.

“What?”

“How old are you?” you repeat.

It takes him another while to answer as he tries to see where you’re going with this. But when his search comes up empty, he just answers, “29.”

"I don't know who you are at 29. The last time I knew you was 24. No. You hadn't even turned 24 yet. Where was 25? 26? 27? 28? It’s unfair that you still know who I am when I don't know who you are. I feel like I never aged a day past 24. You carried on living but I'm still here."

His eyes well up once again, but this time, you can see it. The first tear spills over, lands somewhere on your collarbone. This is what you used to want, right? To see him hurting, just like how you were hurting? Well, be careful what you wish for.

No part of you feels victorious that you’re making him cry, that the score is finally being settled, because none of this undoes all of the shit you had to go through. If anything, it makes you feel even worse, like you’re still losing.

“I never moved on from us. I couldn’t move on from you,” he says, voice cracking toward the end. Your heart is doing the same thing in your chest, but you’re glad that he can’t see it. “I swear I miss you every day. I wanted you with me every day. You have no idea how much I wanted to come back to you.”

Jungkook looks so dejected, like a reflection of you these past few years. You recognize that look in his eyes. You know that sadness all too well. He was in as much pain as you were.

He loved you when he left you. He still loves you even after all this time. 

You inhale shakily. For the first time, you feel infinitely selfish for only focusing on your own misery without even stopping to give him the benefit of the doubt, to consider the possibility that maybe letting you go wasn’t something he wanted. Maybe he isn’t the antagonist that you spent years making him out to be.

There’s more to it, and you need to know.

“Then why did you leave me?”

Graduation was just shy of a month ago, and two weeks before that was Hoseok’s flight when he left you all behind.

You and Jungkook, along with Taehyung and Jimin had gone to see him off at the airport. Of course you did, you were his best of friends after all. The goodbye was full of jokes accompanied by sniffles, and tears that overflowed without permission because you all agreed that you would hold yourself together for Hoseok. Jimin was probably the one who cried the most, even though inside, you were equally sad to see your friend leave.

A part of your life was ending, and that in and of itself was depressing enough already, but you thought at least the whole group would still be together and start the next chapter by each other’s side.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t the end of the world. All of you could still make it work, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of situations. You promised to keep in touch, promised to message the group chat every day and have video calls every weekend. You were still kids, and kids tend to be optimistic like that.

What none of you could see coming was how everything would fall apart in a matter of mere weeks.

Jungkook thinks that decades from now, when he’s old and gray and helpless, he still won’t be able to forget that day.

He should’ve been more concerned when your mother contacted him out of nowhere, asking him to meet with her, asking him not to let you know where he was going.

He’d shown up half an hour early to the cafe where they were supposed to meet, just because he didn’t want to risk being late and have your mother disapprove of him even more. Not once had she expressed anything other than disdain toward your relationship, but you’d always told him it didn’t matter, that you were the only person who could decide what to do with your life, not anyone else, let alone your mother. He always believed you back then, even if deep down, he still wanted her to see that he was enough for you. Her unattainable approval still mattered to him.

Jungkook spent thirty whole minutes running on nothing but anxiety and caffeine. That was probably his first mistake, ordering a cup of coffee which only made him more nervous than he already was.

When your mother arrived, it barely took her any time at all to get right into what she came here to say. She hadn’t even bothered with a drink.

Was that how it was always going to end? Should he have seen it coming from the beginning? Was he the only one who thought it would be you and him all the way until the very end?

Maybe he was more of a hopeless romantic than he thought.

It was the way she had called him a phase that she hoped you’d grow out of. That she had let you keep this relationship for long enough, but now that you’d graduated - now that you’d be starting a life for yourself - she couldn’t sit back and watch you throw it all away for a boy who could never give you what you deserved.

It was the way she told him she didn’t want history to repeat itself. How she didn’t want to subject you to the same fate that she and your father had to suffer through. How she had left your dad because in the end, he wasn’t enough for her and you, even though you were a child and you deserved to grow up with a father and with love.

She said the same thing would happen to you and Jungkook, because you were meant for greater things and he was not meant to deserve you. She made it clear that he would always hold you back, that he would never amount to even a fraction of what you should receive in life.

“If you love her, you would let her go.”

Cliché, right? Like the kind of stuff you only ever see in movies? Well, movies have to take inspiration from somewhere.

He thought about his own mother then, and about how people could have such different ways of showing love. He believed that your mother loved you, and he still believes that. She wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of seeing him if she didn’t care about you. She wanted the best for you, and that wasn’t him.

She didn’t have to tell him to keep it a secret from you, because he wouldn’t have told you regardless. He was well aware of how strained your relationship with your mother was, and letting you know would only drive it closer to the edge. She knew he wouldn’t tell you. He loved you, and that was the one thing that she could count on.

Just sitting there in that café, Jungkook felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, even though he was surrounded by the other patrons and their lively laughter as they chatted away. The pitiful way that your mother kept looking at him forced him to learn what it was like to feel truly worthless.

The pity in her eyes only intensified when he couldn’t even say a single word in response, couldn’t think of anything to defend himself.

Silence meant agreement, and that was what he chose. Jungkook - the naive boy that he was - stopped believing in you. He’d believed her instead.

He was just a kid, what else was he supposed to do? 

She was your own flesh and blood, and he knew nothing could ever replace that. He would rather let you hate him, resent him for the rest of your life, than let you lose your family.

That day, he lied to you for the first time ever, saying he couldn’t come over because he was tired. The sunflowers he bought for you just hours prior ended up dying on his windowsill.

He wouldn’t see you again for a few more days, then for months afterward.

July was supposed to represent a blossoming summer, but all he could remember was the dreadful promise of a winter that would inevitably come.

You call his name when he takes too long to answer. “Tell me.”

“I love you,” he merely says. His hand brushes your cheek.

You frown, despite the way the three words make your chest tingle.

“I love you,” he says it again, trying to ease the furrow between your brows.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, barely even audible, but it’s this gentleness that makes his words ricochet, ringing in your ears loudly like a gun going off in the quiet of your room.

Again with the apologies.

Fuck this.

It’s hard to take it to heart when you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

You gave Jungkook the chance to explain himself, but if he doesn’t take it, then that’s not on you. There isn’t much else that you can do.

You swallow hard, then shove him off of you so you could get out of the bed. Your legs instantly tremble as you attempt to stand, but you soldier on as you put on your bra and underwear, then grab your dress from where it lays abandoned on the floor. You’re shaking, but it’s difficult to determine if it’s because you’re angry, or cold without his warmth nearby.

He’s quick to his feet too, rushing toward you before you could leave.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss when he reaches for your arm. He doesn’t listen, because when has Jeon Jungkook ever fucking listened?

“Y/N, wait-”

“Wait for what?! I asked you a simple question and you can’t even answer me.”

He runs a hand over his face frustratedly, clearly torn over something. He holds your angered gaze, but the way he looks at you is much milder, gentler even if it’s equally frustrated. “I’m trying to protect you.”

You don’t know if it’s the wrong answer or not. You just know that in this moment, it irritates you to no end.

“Oh my god,” you gasp mockingly. “Someone is trying to kill me.”

“What?”

“Someone is trying to kill me. Someone is waiting outside that door right now, waiting for me to come out so they can kill me. Holy fucking shit, I’m about to be assassinated.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.”

There’s that burning sensation behind your eyes again. “And you think I’m not? What do you mean you’re trying to protect me? Protect me from what? Do you think this is a fucking k-drama? Jesus Christ,” you scoff harshly. “What do you want from me? What the actual fuck do you want?”

Jungkook aims for you again, and in an attempt to ward him off, your swinging fist inadvertently collides with his chest. The dress falls to the floor again, laying next to your feet, that useless piece of fabric.

It probably doesn’t do much damage to him, but he’s a bit startled regardless. So are you, if you’re being honest. But you do it again, and surprisingly, he lets you.

“You coward.” You shove hard at his chest, making him stumble backward. “You unbelievable asshole. You fucked me, you said you loved me, and you still can’t tell me why you left me.” 

He allows you to push him until his back is pressed against the wall. And even then, you don’t relent. Your fists continue beating against his chest as you start sobbing, spilling ‘I hate you’s in between so many expletives it could make his grandmother faint.

He might bruise in the morning.

You hope he bruises in the morning.

The least Jungkook could do is bruise for you.

You want him to curse him out for so many things - for loving you, for leaving you, for not even having the balls to tell you why he broke your heart. For coming back to remind you that you still love him. For proving that he still has you in the palm of his hands, and every twitch of his finger can make you feel like the walls are crumbling down on you.

But even as you tell him how much you hate him, you’re still thinking: Come back. I don’t want to keep losing you. Come back to me.

Because he’s the only person who can hurt you like this. When you think about him, it used to make you so depressed that you could hardly function. There’s no other way to put it to make it sound less pathetic. That’s just how it is.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this weekend, shouldn’t have been nice to him, shouldn’t have let him convince you not to think about it. You shouldn’t have opened the door for him in the first place, because there was always a part of you that knew he could get under your skin so easily just like that.

This wasn’t your second chance at holding onto him. It wasn’t a do-over. It was a re-enactment.

The years haven’t made you wiser, that much is clear.

You don’t know how long this goes on for, but at some point, you begin to wear yourself out. Your movements start to slow and the energy to violently sob leaves your body until you’re nearly collapsing. Jungkook catches you when you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up anymore. Why are you always so fucking helpless?

“You just…” Your voice gets caught at the end of a sob. This is rock bottom all over again. “You make me so sad.”

You grasp his arm weakly, feeling like your own lungs are failing you. You can’t breathe. It’s too much, too infinitely humiliating. He’s doing this to you again, and this time you have to shoulder most of the blame, because you are the one that enabled your own heartbreak for the second time.

You’re still crying, and you hate that this is the first time he’s ever seen you cry like this.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he says firmly, looking at you like he’s trying so hard not to break down alongside you. “Please, I’m so sorry.” The words come out as a whisper now. You can feel the tremble in his voice and the shake of his hands where they hold you. His big bambi eyes - the usual home of constellations - now house tears that threaten to spill onto his supple cheeks. “Please. What can I do to make you believe me?”

It’s those stupid fucking eyes. It’s your stupid fucking self.

“You need to tell me.” Your tears keep on falling no matter how much he tries to wipe them away. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“It’ll make things worse,” he tells you, his voice cracking as he does. He sounds like he means it, and maybe he does believe that whatever he’s hiding from you will only hurt you more. It almost has you caving, but you can’t do this a second time. You’re exhausted, both physically and emotionally. In the morning, you’ll think about how this is all so dramatic, the way you’re acting right now. The most k-drama-esque thing that has ever happened to you. But in the moment, you just feel like someone plunged a knife in your chest, and they keep twisting it, twisting and twisting,...

In the end, you decide that it’s a risk you’ll have to take, because nothing can be more painful than the absolute hell he’s putting you through. He’ll never understand how utterly excruciating it is to experience this kind of heartbreak.

“If you don’t tell me now, I won’t be able to survive you again.”

up next...

our beloved summer (08) ⏤ aka the JK centric chapter

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 30, 2023]

[kattythingz]

My beloved wife, I’d be honored if you answered 7, 12, 25/26, and 28 😩😩😩😩

Why, husband dearest, you flatter me! Of course!

7 - Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

One of my favorite projects isn't nearly as popular as my other ones, but I adore it to pieces, and it's my teen wolf stalia fic. Stalia is a ship that I hold very dear to my heart, and the fic I wrote for them was the first time I really breached "longfic" word count and felt proud about it. A lot of research went into it, and a lot more stress near the end of it. But it's so important to me still to this day. Scott and Malia's whole subplot and relationship development was particularly sth I was proud of back when I first wrote it, hence the chosen snippet:

“We can’t just kill every person that crosses us!” Scott yelled, his wound-up nerves finally snapping. “It’s one thing to kill in a fit of blind rage, but to do it just because you can? That sounds like something Peter would do, not us!”

“Yeah, well, maybe Peter’s right about something for once!” Malia shot back. “Maybe if you didn’t spend every moment making friends with your enemies and letting them walk away, your own pack wouldn’t feel unsafe despite the presence of an alpha!”

“This isn’t about safety anymore, Malia! This is about murder! This is about all the people that’ve died to similar methods that you’re seriously considering right now! How could you be okay with that?”

“Because it saved Stiles! Do you think Stiles would still be here if I hadn’t arrived when I did, Scott? Do you think Garett would’ve waited for instructions from Violet before tracking down Stiles again?” She swung her arm toward Stiles. “Stiles is still alive right now because I did what I had in order to protect him! And if you can’t be happy with that fact, then it’s no wonder he landed here in the first place!”

Malia didn’t know which one of them was the first to stand up in their rage, but she did know that Scott was the first to falter. The first to stagger like he was the one lying strangled and muted in a hospital cot.

12 - Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Hmmmm, this question's a little vague. For my current hyperfixation, ig, it would be ep44 from FMA 03. I love the dynamics between Ed and Team Mustang, and I love Ed's beef with Hohenheim, and I love the fact that we're spending a little time away from the plot to just let the characters (mostly Ed) ruminate on what's happened and just exist together. I go back to rewatch it pretty often.

25 - What do you look for in a beta?

Fishing for compliments I see. Subtle, Jinx. Real subtle. /j

Okay, so, genuinely: one of my first considerations is whether I'm friends with the person. Not because I'm looking for bias (I'm literally avoiding that with a beta?), but because there's a certain... comfort to it being a friend? If it's a complete stranger, no matter how nice they are, I'll always misread and/or overthink their tone in feedback. With a friend, however, I know for certain that they mean it well.

I also look for someone who knows the characters as well as or even better than me, because my insecurities about my writing aren't really in the technical aspect, but rather the characters. Consistency, OOCness, Would He Fucking Say That; that sort of stuff is the one thing I can't trust myself on.

It's a nice bonus if the person is also a good writer themselves, which I was very lucky to stumble on in my current beta <3

26 - Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

Often, yes! If my official beta is for character purposes, then I am the technical beta that dings myself on grammar and language bullshit. I used to post fics without proofreading them. Keyword: used to.

28 - Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Oh, oh, first person that comes to mind is @shanastoryteller! Their Untamed fics are my EVERYTHING, from the headcanons to the characterization to the prose??? I can't even pick a favorite fic from them—actually, wait, I can. Rotten Work, easily. crust and sugar over too... but that's another fandom, oops. I've read basically all their stuff kjvnwjbw. Raberba_girl on ao3 too has SUCH amazing httyd content, dear god. The Dragon Queen of Berk is my everything. And uhhhh... I can't think of a third that's not you lol. GOOD 'NUFF

[eluvion]

for the fic writer ask game: 3, 16, 23, 74, 76 (for hope is our four-letter word)? i hope that's not too many lol

love your writing! wishing you joy <3

hi!! this took like a million years so apologies on that!! ive been packing for and moving into college the past few days so i was a little busy but!!!! tysm for the ask love!!!! this did end up like mega long so i put my answers under the cut

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

usually, my fics really start as disconnected snippets in my notes app. i usually sort the notes by fandom, and at some point the snippets kind of amalgamate into something more tangible. then it gets shipped off into a google doc where i basically just work at it (on my computer or my phone) until i have a full fic/chapter. i usually write more emotional scenes on my phone, and it's just a Thing to do in between Real Life Things. then!! once im finished writing i read it over a billion times, read through the dialogue out loud to make sure it sounds natural, and then ask my beta (my beloved @izarie) to edit through. and then after THAT i post it!!

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

right now, i have two main ones that are just sort of revolving around my brain. there's my flinch from roy's pov ted lasso fic, because that made fic me so so sooo insane and sometimes i just cant stop thinking abt scenes where jamie is super inside his own head and what roy is Thinking Abt during that time. here's a bit of that:

Roy wonders, not for the first time, how he kicked Jamie out at the beginning of all this. Jamie had that look on his face—even while he was making Jamie-like complaints and giving Roy shit—like he was going to cry. And Roy just threw his clothes back and forced him to call an Uber and watched him slump around himself from the window. Roy knows better than that. He was raised better than that.  So okay. Maybe Roy gets it, in that context. Jamie holds onto shit that hurts him on the off chance that it will hold him close. And as much as he fucking despises it, that puts him and James Tartt in the same category, that place in Jamie’s head where he keeps the people that could help but choose not to. Roy really doesn’t want to know how many people are in that box.

and a succession post-canon roman-centric fic! it will be like. a little bit ooc just by virtue of having a nice(r) ending because that's how succession Is but you know. this is what i call healing. here's a bit of that:

Kendall’s all teeth. “Fuck you. You're not better. You’ve—you’ve fucking imploded everything you’ve ever done.” “Yeah, ‘cause you're the fuckin’ picture of a success story.” Roman sinks deeper into his seat. Leans into the car window. “Real wolf of fucking Wall Street, getting fucked out of Daddy’s company because you couldn’t play act a real CEO.” Kendall’s hands twitch.  Roman smiles. “What are you gonna do? Hit me about it?”

and also like. forever in my brain is the elektra greek tragedy fic in which i have feelings abt my doomed by the narrative failwife <333

23. Best writing advice for other writers?

i think it was ve schwab who gave the metaphor of a creative well, and that for as much Stuff (art, music, podcasts books, ect) you put in, you get more out. i try to keep my media diet fairly diverse (not just kids shows or serialized tv or classic books, but more of a combination of it all. it really forces me to like. have to break barriers in my mind, as well as like!! keeping audience and tone and all that in my mind while i read/watch/listen.

74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

it's hard for me to really place any of the hallmarks of my writing that are super super distinct but!! Time Things are my big tell. ive pretty much always been obsessed with time and like these days there isnt a fic im writing without a big Looking Back component to it. salt pillars and vonnegut and orpheus and lot's wife. iykyk <33

76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of hope is our four-letter word?

i actually do have an extras doc!! it has some yosano and dazai hurt/comfort that i tried v hard to fit into the fic but just didnt fit into the narrative i was telling. here's a snippet of that (usual warnings for dazai-typical suicide attempts):

It’s Yosano that finds him, shivering in the crimson water, watching the blood seep out from his arms.  Yosano opens the door, and she’s more calm than she usually is. She’s a good doctor, infinitely better than Mori, and she knows how much her usual bedside manner would send him spiraling. She eases him out of the water quietly, and gives him a towel.  “Dazai,” she says, stitching the cuts lining his arms. “It wouldn’t have killed me,” he says. “It just nicked a vein.”  She wipes the blood and water away and begins wrapping his usual bandages around his arms. There’s something cold and horrible in him, spreading from his stomach to his bones to every inch of his skin. He wants to rip it all apart, until that emptiness is torn bloody from the rest of him, and that thing, that pain made from scalpel edges and sharper smiles, with all its hooks and too-sweet whispers, to be burned from him, even if it means dying. Especially if it means dying.  Yosano scowls. “Not yet. Dazai…” She doesn’t call him by his first name, because the first time she tried that, when he was in high school and just out of court, he had run, hearing what he always heard at the sound of his first name. Yosano is smart; she learns quickly, and she had found him huddled on a roof and smiled crookedly, offering a hand. 

there was also a chuuya and dazai hurt/comfort scene, kind of loosely based off of the scene intimitopia wrote in the light that the fire would bring chapter 5 where dazai has a panic attack (unintentionally) triggered by poe describing a bloody scene. this is before chuuya and dazai are really close, but chuuya sees dazai leave the room and follows him to the bathroom "to give him back his bag". it was also just one of those scenes that didnt have a place in the final cut and kind of opened a plotline that distracted from the main ones. it also felt a bit too plagiarismy to nick the concept straight from someone else's fic, especially someone in the fandom that i really admire.

i also found this snippet in the extras doc, which i think?? i was going to end with but i couldnt find a natural way to put it in:

“It will get better,” Chuuya decides on, and even though it’s the truth, it’s a shitty truth. He knows how much he hated it when he was a teenager, his whole life in a bag as he traveled from house to house to home. He says it anyway, because there really isn’t anything else he can say, and even if it’s hackneyed, it’s something. “It won’t,” Dazai says predictably. “It doesn’t.” “I didn’t say good,” Chuuya says. “Maybe it’ll never be good. It happens. But it’ll get better.” Dazai sounds doubtful. “It’ll get worse, too.” “Yeah,” Chuuya says, and he reaches for Dazai’s hand, “but that’s when you hold onto the better moments.” Dazai’s hand is always cold, like a reptile, a snake that stayed out of its burrow in the winter and turned icy. Chuuya lets his body heat warm Dazai’s hand, lets it twitch back to something resembling life.  “This is a better moment,” Dazai whispers, and Chuuya isn’t sure if he even meant to say it. Chuuya squeezes Dazai’s hand. “It is.”

i never did get to writing it, and by design the fic doesnt include dazai's backstory. it's a combination of him not being in a place where he wants to tell it to anyone, chuuya not wanting to have to be the person to ask, and yosano and ranpo both knowing that it's not their story to tell. the basics are that dazai was carted around as a half-hostage half-protege of mori's through his childhood. mori was a fairly well known serial killer at the time, and, similar to canon, oda is in the crime world but starting to get out of it. he becomes a very bright spot in dazai's life, being the one person that cared about dazai (in a non-fucked up manipulative way). ango was undercover and ranpo was one of the detectives working the case to get dazai out and mori behind bars. they do eventually, but like canon, not without oda dying. yosano, having been under mori's control in a similar way some years ago, helps them find dazai and eventually legally adopts him. they have their growing pains, and dazai basically becomes a shut-in all throughout high school, but that gets him to where he is at the time of the fic.

i doooo have like. specific ages written down for all of these events somewhere (probably in a notebook) but i dont really remember where

[dairy-farmer]

Saw the young Alpha Jason post, and? Am once again! Back on my Beta!Tim Bullshit! I WILL covert the readership! \O/~☆

Because? The inherent eroticism of? A body not MADE for Knots? Taking one? Of Omegas, forever portrayed as submissive, topping someone who can not help but be swept away by the heat and charisma, the overwhelming need.

Who walk around, oblivious to the Heated Looks. Because what could THEY offer? THEY aren't Omegas or an Alpha. Only another Beta would be interested. Could be.

But they smell so good and look so cute.

And when Heat come it hit likes a BRICK to the face.

Toys not doing SHIT for them, because that perfect little Beta is just over there. Would feel so GOOD. And who breaks first?

Bruce? With his big ol Alpha knot he KNOWS would break that cute little Beta in two? Who is practically drooling over it anyway? Wants to stuff him with fingers and tounge and toys, for hours and days at a time. Until he is whimpering and ruined, ready to take him DEEP. To cry out and drool, fucked blissed out and stupid on his knot.

But behaves. Hates it. But controls himself. Because he's the Alpha and Tim has shown no interest.

Or is it Dick, who folds?

Heat hitting hard. Always aware of him but trying never to have such thoughts. Unable to avoid them now, between relationships as he is. Smelling him in the Manor. Knowing he's down the hall. Wondering what it feel like, to fuck someone with his sensitive Omega dick. Full but it's not ENOUGH.

They could be full together.

He could feel the heat of skin against his. Hear Timmy make such lovely little sounds. Make him choke on them, on HIM, as he shows him all the tricks he's learned. Bets he could make him squeeze.

Who can say?

But what we CAN say? Is Tim learns to take that Knot like a champ. To play Heat Aid for poor Dick as he suffers. They ADORE their beloved Beta pack mate. Cuddles and snacks and whatever he wants. The excuses are endless. They don't date for... Reasons. And Tim is not ALLOWED to date for... Reasons. What? Them? Hogging the Tim? Don't be silly. Their relationship with Tim is TOTALLY normal and they DEFINITELY aren't fucking like rabbits in the Batcave, their rooms, and against every surface they can find.

Don't be absurd.

He's a Beta.

-🐼🐼🐼

good for tim 🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️!!