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hollyhomburg · 1 year ago

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Before I Leave You (Pt.55)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Namjoon’s rut hits, and hits hard. Not all of it is pretty. Not all of it is sweet.

Tags: Free use, Rough Fucking, Size kink, Consensual Somnophilia, Knotting, Breeding kink, lactation kink, Group sex, Copious Dirty talk, Praise, Humiliation kink, dumbification kink, Biting, Blood mention, Blood kink, messy sex, Feral! Namjoon, Creampie, cum kink, cumplay, So much cum it’s honestly gross, Oral (f and m receiving), mommy kink, intercrural sex, briefly implied masochistic! Namjoon, collars, Trans! Tae, dysphoria mention, Jimin indirectly misgenders tae at one point (bad minnie), small amounts of fluff here and there, everyone lives nobody dies,

W/c: 18.7k

A/N: Listen, i don’t want to talk about the word count. I’m so excited to stop writing smut for this series for a little bit after this chapter 😭 don’t be surprised with the last scene bitch slaps you across the face cuz ngl, i’m a little proud of it.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

(Ache)

Namjoon’s rut lasts for 3 nights and 4 days.

It’s quiet like drowning when you stir in the living room nest. A thick blanket of rut hormones sticking and burning in your mouth and nose. The milder smell of slick bright. Jungkook’s and Jin’s. Both. You have no idea when exactly Namjoon's pre-rut broke only that you're in the thick of it now.

You feel oddly cold. A strip of skin around your middle where your shirts pulled up vaguely bereft. Almost like there had been someone wrapped around you in the night.

You don't know what woke you until you hear it- the fast wet sound of two bodies thumping against one another.

Everyone’s already awake. You watch as Hobi pulls himself up onto unsteady knees, cradling Jungkook’s cheeks in both of his hands. hands that slide to under his arms.

He needs the support of someone holding him up because Namjoon's fucking him like a ragdoll. Holding both of his arms behind his back, fingers delicately circling his wrists and using them to tug him back and forth on his knot. the omega’s chest arched and bare. Nipples hard in the cold air.

The fast pace Namjoon fucks him with is at odds with the alpha's usual gentleness. But nothing about Namjoon in a rut is like what you'd expect from your pack alpha:

Namjoon’s mouth is drawn back into a snarl. He pulls back harder Forcing Jungkook to arch his spine and let out these little noises, keens, and whines as Namjoon yanks his half-formed knot in and out of his wet hole. Seemingly uncaring of the omega's comfort or the vaguely distressing noises he's making.

Someone must have followed Jungkook’s earlier pleas; a pink and sparkly cock cage bobs below him, angry and red and completely untended.

Jungkook’s crying but you’re not alarmed by it. If anything you understand. It’s so convenient to cry on Namjoon’s knot. It’s practically an emotional pallet cleanser with how new it makes you feel. Namjoon pulls Jungkook back ass to hips, as deep as he can get and still not deep enough.

Hobi holds Jungkook’s face, pulling him close and saying something that makes the omega keen and shake harder. Hobi stays there until he cums. Face tucked close to the other alpha's chest. Namjoon doesn’t respond to another alpha's closeness with any truly territorial behavior but still.

His lip lifts from teeth that look even sharper in rut. A warning to stay obedient.

The rut is beginning to affect you; you can feel it on your jaw. the alphas and yoongi might not feel it, but you omega’s do. your scent fluffs out calm and soothing, stronger and more heady, beckoning your alpha to you. There’s an ache and burn in your throat. A chirp or a purr building. Electricity in the air and the goosebumps on your arms. all coupled with the warm-wet-want sensitivity between your thighs leads you to believe it’s just the pheromones.

He smells so good, so good you lick your lips and pout, still half asleep.

Your mates’ hands wipe your hair back from your sweaty forehead, his usual good morning touches uncharacteristically shaky. Yoongi’s face is sleepy relaxed and smiling, but there’s tension in his eyes as he wakes you softly.

He'd rather not wake you just as Namjoon needs another knot. Jin's on the other side of the nest, and while it wouldn't be terrible to ask him to go again, Yoongi won't make that decision for you.

It won’t be long now. Jungkook’s already cum and Namjoon’s knot is close to popping. At this stage of the rut, you’ll have maybe 20 minutes before the pack alpha’s knot deflates and he turns his wicked intentions on you.

Yoongi’s hands tighten around your upper arms. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to do, keep you here so that the pack alpha can knot you, or peel you off of the floor of the nest and bring you to him. Both parts of Yoongi are at war. His fingertips tease at the fine baby hairs of your upper arms, clean and silky.

“We tried to let you sleep as long as possible.”

You nuzzle into his throat and sag back against his chest. Content to cuddle while you wait for your turn. You squirm all the while. Yesterday- taking Namjoon’s cock was so intense. Will it feel as good in rut too?

At odds with your mate’s sometimes somber expression Tae shuffles over. a bright pink blotch in the mostly pastel nest. She looks soft and excited, lips glossy from her lip mask. There is a small bit of her skincare routine sitting on the couch, Jimin brought what she deemed ‘her necessities’ earlier. There’s a good batch of the special numbing cream/antiseptic/soother Just in case.

The cup of water she offers you is flavored with lemon. Sleepy touches and cute kisses, chaste questions about how you dreamed. All the while behind her you can see Jungkook and Namjoon fucking. It’s a little rude to ignore them, right?

Soon you’ll learn that while a rut can be awfully interesting and consuming for the omegas, For the other alphas it can get a bit boring.

Although they're allowed to fuss and care for the rest of you between the waves. There's a lot of waiting to be needed. It's likely they won't need to be fucked for a few more hours or even days. Until Namjoon's rut truly reaches a fevers peak and the omegas need a stretch of uninterrupted sleep.

That's how Namjoon's rut works: bad until it's worse, worse until it’s unbearable, and then the placid fall. Usually accompanied by the pack alphas tears. Ruts are intense not only sexually but emotionally too. When Namjoon gives in it always makes the eventual downfall worse. Rut-drop is different for every alpha.

Most of the time, Namjoon just tries not to act like a monster. Tries not to feel like one either regardless of Jungkook's pleas. Jungkook had nuzzled close soon after Namjoon had knotted Jin and whispered low in his ears, "I want you to fuck me up hyung. Please breed me until i can't think about anything but your knot,"

That's why he growled at Hobi, who had the audacity to insinuate that Namjoon wasn't doing something his packmate begged for.

A loud squeal and growl interrupt your conversation and tae sighs, Stirring her coffee with a clack of porcelain. (Knots popped then). Tae continues her usual morning kisses and scent marks like an alpha in rut isn’t directly behind her. Regardless of your intermittent squirming and darting gaze. Your scent spikes and Namjoon looks up, but he’s still riding the end of his knot.

"Pup," she says, directing your eyes back to her with her hand on your chin. "Eyes on me."

"Sorry Mommy."

There's no need to make Namjoon even more restless. Tae knows what you smell like- like fresh-cut fruit to a fly. As much as the pack alpha probably wishes he was doubly endowed like some monster out of a bad porno, he only has one knot. One omega at a time.

Normally, just Jin and Jungkook would be enough to take the edge off the first wave. But Namjoon has a third omega now. It’s hot and grating to see you on the other side of the nest. His alpha scratches and claw at Namjoon’s chest. Telling him the inferno won’t end, not until every omega in his pack is claimed.

Tae shuffles closer to Yoongi so that he can curl around the both of you, stroke over your stomach, clenching in anticipation. You know that she’s touching you because she’s thinking about how bred you’ll be soon. She missed too much yesterday, and she won’t take her eyes off of you this time.

Knotting Jungkook is a brief and lucid affair for Namjoon, who does little more than tuck his face into Jungkook’s throat and take big greedy gasps at the omega’s scent gland. Honey sweet omega. Jungkook clenches around his knot, clamping down every few seconds like he’s trying to milk him of his cum. Purring small and cute rumbles that make Namjoon feel like jelly.

No unpleasantness yet, just a dopy smile of his omega, clumsy finger running through the mess on his stomach. Pressing it into Namjoon's skin, marking him too.

Namjoon’s knot goes down and the pack descends for some fussing. Jungkook flops down onto the nest right where he was bred because he’s too tired to move any farther. Jimin’s fingers check his hole with a press of gentle fingers. They feel thin in comparison to Namjoon's knot. No redness or irritation yet. Jungkook tolerates a few seconds before he pushes at Jimin's hands, demanding to be wiped up for breakfast.

Interest perks up between your legs, like Namjoon can sense it his nostrils flare and he sets his eyes on you. His cock hasn't gone down at all, He'll be like that, full mast, no flagging until the end of the rut.

He's the only one without any clothes on, everyone else wears at least one item of clothing. Namjoon doesn’t seem to be too upset that you’re in a large shirt. But it’s ever so intimidating to see him shuffle close, big cock heavy looking between his legs.

You squirm. But Tae and Yoongi hold you.

You don’t know where the trickle of fear comes from. Yoongi soothes you by petting the top of your head and keeping you still as Namjoon shuffles closer.

He leans down, nosing over your knee, pupils dark and wide. You squeak when He tugs your hips apart so that the sweet center of you is bare to the open air. A faint wet patch on your panties. His omega, wet for him. So small, so easy to manhandle and lift by the hips to settle onto his knees, out of Yoongi’s lap and into his.

You squeak a little turning when he pulls you flush against him, trying to get into the presenting position that your instincts want you to be in, chest down like nature intended, face buried in the perfect nest you’ve made for this purpose.

Namjoon doesn't like your twisting, holding you still.

You end up sitting on his powerful thighs facing Yoongi and Tae, sipping at her coffee and smiling like you don’t have an alpha in rut nosing at your throat. His big hands slide up and down your sides, touching you everywhere verifying that you’re okay, that you’re safe. Soothing the fear clenching bird-cage tight around his heart.

Namjoon is perilously lost to his rut as he leans to nose at your shoulder, sniffing your mating mark. Mouthing at it and your scent gland, sweet and warm under his lips, plush and nice tasting under his teeth. You turn, trying to move so you can face him but-

But he grabs your wrists, holds both of them, growling out a single word (it’s so hard for Namjoon to speak right now, like speaking through a mouthful of peanut butter).

“Stay.”

You freeze, But You’re a good omega. your instincts what you to obey Namjoon, limbs turned to jelly by a single order. Tae hides her smile behind the rim of her coffee cup, and Yoongi shifts in the way that you know he does when he’s turned on but wants to hide as Namjoon sniffs up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied that you smell soothed, nipping hard enough to leave marks.

Only the thin fabric of your panties separates you from his cock, pressing against the soft fabric, not trying to fuck you yet but still there.

Namjoon doesn’t need you to present for him. An omega as sweet and small as you shouldn't be left to bob and move across the nest. Namjoon can keep you safer this way. In his lap, under his palms, any farther would be too far.

You try to say something to him but he can’t hear it. Namjoon doesn’t even bother turning you around to face him, sitting back on his heels and pulling you with him. Hands fumbling to push down your panties until they’re around one knee.

Wet slick gathers at his fingers, dripping onto his stomach mixing with Jungkook’s mark. A delicacy destined to go to waste when Namjoon’s alpha wants. When Namjoon’s alpha howls and scratches at his chest that he needs to breed you or else.

Namjoon pulls you back, a hand under each thigh and your back rest against his chest. he lifts you up just enough to where he can settle you on his cock in one smooth movement. You choke but Namjoon needs. he’s Barely lucid, “Sorry- ’m sorry-” he chants when he makes you let out a first wet sob at the insistent press of his cock against your sensitive hole. halfway in much quicker than before. No waiting this time because you’re so well-prepped.

It's just as intense, if not more, with how immediately Namjoon goes back to mouthing at your shoulder.

You knew what to expect but Namjoon’s cock burns as it fills you, just as thick as last time making you dizzy. Yoongi’s hand darts out alarmed, but you hold it softly where you grab it, tangling your fingers together, and nodding that you’re alright, hiccupping.

“m’fine just- fucking hell��Namjoon-”

Namjoon purrs and Tae leans on her elbow to watch. He holds your thighs apart a little wider so she can see where you meet. You look so small compared to Namjoon’s knot, so small it looks like it shouldn’t fit. Tae’s own cock twitches in interest. The sight of your cunt clenching around nothing when he lifts you up all the way is frankly too erotic.

Tae purs join Namjoon’s, coffee long forgotten.

Namjoon fucks you just as brutally as he fucked Jungkook, His body trembles as he tries to hold himself back but he can’t. He can’t stop himself from lifting you up and settling you back down again. Nudging a choked moan from your throat every time his cock fills you.

The thickness makes you breathless and has your body instinctively trying to pull off. Too big. He's too big.

He's not. Namjoon gives you no leverage from this angle. And brings you down on his cock regardless of your sudden panic. Too close, just like last time you're too close too quick. You can do little more than try and keep from letting out embarrassing noises as Namjoon ruts his hips forward. He holds you at his mercy and gives you very little room to move on your own. No chance to pull off as your first orgasm buries you.

Your sudden gush of slick drips down his cock when you cum, wetting the skin of his knot hot, nudging wider now at your hole. The burn is so good. So full. Your skin feels two sized two small over your bones. Yoongi’s lopsided smile has your stomach twisting in embarrassment.

You sob, Pussy clenching greedy tight around Namjoon’s cock.

Tae smiles and reclines in the nest to watch, smiling like she knows it's driving you crazy, eyes hovering where you drip and where you and Namjoon meet. She plucks your underwear off your dangling leg. Folding it until you can't see any of the light blue fabric. Holding it hard, knuckles white.

“I love watching Alpha play with you, does his cock feel good in your little hole honey? So good you just had to make a mess for mommy. My sensitive little pup.” She croons.

Namjoon burns hotter in a rut- sweat dripping down your spine, filthy licks of pleasure burning through your stomach as you nod. You’re so slick, so wet already.

Your body gives and gives. His cock touches every bare inch, wet deep and absolutely mind-numbing. Yoongi pulls himself closer and grabs your joined hands. bringing them to his lips to kiss your palm. "Doing so well for alpha sweetheart, doing so well for us."

The praise burns and stirs your arousal. Tae leans up to kiss your knee, and the image of them gets all warped as you start to cry. Namjoon's cock is truly the perfect Emotional pallet cleanser.

You hiccup, “Why does he have to be like, so fucking big-” Tae grins, smelling sweet and looking like you want her all over you.

“It’s a plot device, can you imagine if he was normal-sized? That wouldn't be fun at all” Yoongi barks a laugh shifting in the nest. He’s half hard just like Tae but his arousal isn't what's important right now.

You pant lying your head back on Namjoon's shoulder. You wish Tae would stay away from bookish metaphors when you’re getting the knotting of a lifetime.

"Sure, 'fun' is definitely- fuck- how I'd describe- Alpha please-"

So close to being fucked dumb, Tae and yoongi just laugh. Tae's hand smooths over your shaking thigh, trembling freely as Namjoon holds them. Soft giggles fade out. Her fingers toy on Namjoon’s powerful thigh as you bob, manicured fingers wandering to where you meet, and his next growl is for her.

This one's a warning. Namjoon will nip at her throat later in punishment if she interferes. His teeth will turn her honey skin all roses too. Purple and pink ones sucked by his mouth. Tae would look so pretty with marks. She looks pretty without them but Namjoon could make her prettier.

He fucks you so deep. You know Namjoon’s rut pheromones are supposed to make you open wider, open more to take his knot, but it feels like he’s fucking directly into the place you’d carry pups. So deep that he can’t not knot there.

It’s probably a good thing that you couldn’t get pregnant outside of a heat right now. Because if Namjoon cum’s this deep there’s no way he wouldn’t knock you up. Your alpha growls like he knows it, hands forcing your hips down like you might try and squirm away.

You're so cute like this, flushed face and sleepy on his knot. His hand's fist on your hips, keeping you impaled as you sob. Salty tears that Namjoon licks away. Such a soft little omega like you is certainly too vulnerable to walk around unclaimed. Namjoon should knock you up so that everyone else knows who you belong to.

The others are a rim of bodies on the edge of the nest, a mixture of asleep and awake and dozing. It’s Impossible for Yoongi not to watch as Namjoon lifts you by your thighs and uses you. Filthy fantasies that he’d never dreamed of when it came to you brought to life. Yoongi knows how good it feels just to lie back and take it. How good it feels to be used sometimes.

Tae's hands grab Yoongi's waist, petting up and down his bulge. Fingers circling a dewy patch not touching under his black boxers. She shushes his protests. Whispering that it's cute that he's so turned on, that seeing his mate get bred so well she'd dumb from it has him hard.

Namjoon's knot is already close to popping. Wet heat hugging him so perfectly. His hand's fist on your hips hard, bruising your thighs without meaning to.

He nips at the scruff of your neck, and you cum again, wet and gentle, dripping faintly onto the nest. Just a little.

Tae shifts closer to you sitting across Yoongi's parted thighs. Namjoon’s kissy licks are sloppy and demanding when Tae guides him in. Distracted. Namjoon just rocks into you. Tae's giving you a breather a moment to catch your breath. To put your hands on her thighs and shake uninhibited.

Alpha, Namjoon’s brain purrs, mine, my pretty alpha.

She pulls off of his lips and he chases them. Her eyelashes press against her cheeks like soft wisps of a petal. But her lips speak not of Eden’s but of beautiful wicked things that Namjoon's alpha hungers for.

“She'd look so pretty knocked up alpha? Don't you agree? I need to learn alpha; can't you show me?" Namjoon’s cock twitches inside of you. Her hands wander, drifting up your sides to touch your chest.

Tae’s fingers tease at your nipples and you arch into the touch. You’re Sensitive there, that part of your body not bitten or teased. “Don’t you want to make her sweet here too?” It’s dizzying, the idea of you swelling with milk. Pupped from Namjoon’s knot.

Namjoon seems to think so too because his knot actually does pops. sudden and all too thick for your hole. So big that he can do little but rock up into you, locking you together. The sharp feeling of Namjoon’s teeth grazing the scruff of your neck sends you spiraling as he purrs at the image of you dripping with milk because of him.

It’s so messy, his cum feels so hot and sticky as he fills you. You’re still wet and full from earlier. Namjoon cums so much, so much that you can feel it starting to slip out around the knot almost immediately. Tae seems to realize it, fingers predatory and exploring. Cupping the bulge in your tummy. Licking her lips when she pulls up the hem of your shirt to see your cunt again. Your cute clit twitches and drips just a little more under her gaze. Embarrassed by her brazen looking.

“Doing so well alpha,” she hums, petting your sweaty hair back from your forehead. “Breeding our omega so much I can feel it.” Her fingers meanly dig into the bulge in your tummy and make you gasp. She giggles when she feels the bulge where Namjoon is, twitching as he cums a little more.

It's so hot. Tae's cock is big but not this big, it excites apart of her she doesn't understand quite yet.

You soon learn that those words are like candy to him, that's the other alphas' true job, to egg him on into cumming even when he could keep breeding you for hours. Namjoon's knot is easily triggered by their filthy words.

“Don’t you want to breed me alpha? you can't until you finish with her.”

"Your cum is slipping out alpha, you have to keep him knotted so it takes."

“You can’t breed me until you eat a little Joonie, come on and be a good pup for Jinnie.”

“Breed me please alpha, she’s so tired and I’m so empty.”

You think you’ll have heard it all by the end of the week.

Tae and Yoongi help guide you into a more relaxed position, Namjoon's lap pressed flush to your ass. From the other side of the nest, Jungkook stirs. Licking his lips and yawning. He looks over at you, hair falling over his face in a sweaty mop. Sleepy satisfied pout tugging at the pack's heartstrings.

“Can someone get us some breakfast?”

2 alphas jump to their feet. Yoongi even shifts, guiltily nursing a hard cock that’s none of your business. Filthy filthy thoughts barely quieted from their symphony to melody. He'll handle it later on his own if Tae doesn’t get to him first, (she will, she’s going to eat him up, but later, after the omega’s are attended to)

Tae grabs your glass and guides a straw to your lips, prompting you to sip and soothe your hot throat. Nuzzling into the side of your face.

"Did so well for us baby pup, I knew you could handle alpha." Namjoon growls, although it's closer to a purr. agreeing. "He's nothing but a big puppy, can mommy help in any way?"

Your kiss is soft and sloppy, little more than licking into her mouth. Tae's dumb puppy just from a knot. Tae can't wait to see how puppyish you get the farther into Namjoon's rut they go.

"Can I have some breakfast too?"

Kisses, pressed to your forehead, "Of course you can."

You let out a held breath. And begin to believe that maybe this might not be so bad. Maybe all of Yoongi’s fussing was just that; fussing.

Maybe.

~-~

(Liar)

Out of all the things you didn’t anticipate for Namjoon's rut, it's Jin getting violent.

Jin prefers to ride Namjoon; something that’s endlessly grating to the alpha’s ego. His alpha demands Namjoon have his omega belly down in the nest. Legs parted and hole bare for Namjoon to ruin and breed. Territorial of it.

Their instincts push at each other, one an up well and the other a downdraft. They can’t reasonably both be dominant right now, but instincts are sharp when honed by a rut.

Jin submitting is something the pack omega would never allow. Let alone to Namjoon?

Get real.

You’re i’ll at ease in the moments when it's Jin's turn. It’s a bit frightening watching both of them, even if you’re too sore to even consider trying to get in between them. Trying to stomach the fruit that Jimin feeds you slices of pineapple as you watch the war. Neauseu brimming and a stomach ache too.

Although that could just literally be Namjoon’s cum. The alphas were conscientious of it, and put you in the largest shirt imaginable. Pooling over your thighs. But it’s still there- the heaviness. The complete feeling of being breed rull, making you sluggish and prone to cuddling and dozing. Kneading at the nest and fluffing it too. Not unlike the feeling of getting full off of pasta

Not a food-coma, but maybe a cum-coma.

Jin called them brooding instincts earlier. The ones that tell you to stay put and keep the nest warm for your alpha. the same instincts that prompt the alphas to feed you by hand, their omega’s too precious to lift a finger.

Namjoon doesn’t feel them, that much is clear from the way he and jin fight. you sniffle and contemplate asking them to stop.

They pull each other back and forth across the nest, grappling for control. Namjoon would never hurt Jin but his snarls make it seem like he might. Namjoon threatens to nip at jin’s throat, closing, holding on until Jin grabs his jaw and claws at it. Raking his nails down Namjoon's throat leaving red lines. Namjoon tries to press Jin's shoulders down but Jin slaps the alpha clear across the face.

He does that several times.

You wince, but honestly...Namjoon seems like he likes it a little too much. halfways grinning and halfway bearing his teeth. the bloodlust and actual lust tangling into an intoxicating rush.

You wince when you watch Jin twist the alpha's wrist back when he tries to press his hand flat against the omega’s tummy. “don’t touch me like I’m some sort of broodmare Namjoon- I mean it.”

Namjoon snarls, pushing up against Seokjin's weight unsuccessfully ousting him. You can’t help but think that if that were you you’d bob across the nest like a paperweight. Only his body weight keeps him solidly seated over Namjoon's knot, teasing it between his wet cheeks.

Namjoon tries to nibble at the omega’s shoulder, but jin pushes him away by the face. he raises a finger menacingly. “don’t you fucking dare bite me again.” every syllable laced with pure command, and Namjoon holds himself back- just barely.

Namjoon tries to scruff Jin, with his hands and his teeth, but ends up just gnashing his teeth. The omega's body is and not limp and breedable scruffed stupid like Namjoon wants.

You watch, nibbling on fruit, Jimin waiting with the next slice in his hands completely unbothered by it, the rest of the pack too- doesn't pay the display of aggression any mind.

You’re sticky in places that you shouldn’t be sticky, sore in places you wish you weren’t sore. A no-spill mug half full of liquid next to you (an unfortunately necessary precaution that reminds you a little too much of a sippy cup to be completely unshy about it). You'd accidentally knocked Tae's cup earlier. A stain on the edge of the nest sits, red-pink violent messiness.

Jin actually kicks at Namjoon’s thigh, gripping his hair and pulling hard enough to rip it out. Namjoon’s canines look particularly sharp in the evening light.

“Fuck- just fuck- submit” Namjoon grinds out, teeth gnashing menacingly. It takes real effort for him to speak right now and you wince as Jin nearly kicks Namjoon’s cock with his next move. You can’t imagine that would garner a pleasant reaction.

Then again...maybe Namjoon likes that kind of thing a little more than you thought.

None of your packmates seem alarmed at all, even Hobi, who carries various containers of sliced fruit ducking down to offer them to anyone who might want them. Bare-chested with only his tapered track pants hanging low on his hips, nibble marks up and down his chest and arms. It's a sympathetic predicament; a mark or two peaks out from under your collar too. Not just marks from Namjoon, but bite marks or sucked bruises from all of them too.

Nothing makes the pack want to claim each other like a rut.

"You all good here?" hobi asks, voice soft and gravely. Jimin nods before you can, a bowl of mango and pineapple between his thighs. Hobi moves on to Jungkook whose making grabby hands at the blueberries. He’s got a bit of dried cum on his cheek and you watch as hobi produces a wet washcloth seemingly out of nowhere to clean it off.

Your heart clenches longingly. Jimin doesn’t notice your slightly souring scent, too busy holding onto a slippery piece of mango that he presses against your lips.

Hobi’s been staying on the opposite side of the nest from you for most of this. whenever it's your turn to take Namjoon's knot he makes sure to look away, pretend to be sleeping, or makes himself busy. Puts his back to you in the kitchen while he fills up a water jug or rushes downstairs to check on noodle and give him some much needed tlc.

He’s good at keeping himself busy with the packmates too, helping clean them up, checking Koo's cock cage (not really necessary, but it's fun to watch the omega squirm). He wipes Namjoon's cum out of Jin and Yoongi's hair. Every gross and mildly satisfying task is a decent distraction from your predicament.

Hobi's doing a good job of not making this weird.

A really really good job.

...

That's a dirty rotten lie. Hobi is a piss poor liar. Even in the confines of his own head lying to himself never works.

His sanity is hanging on by a flimsy little thread that is sure to snap if he hears you begging for your alpha again. Or if he sees you belly down, or if you even think about trying to fluff the nest and make it perfect for Namjoon to breed you. If you even glance in his direction. Any of it.

And Jesus Christ, the sounds you make when he's knotting you.

Cute little 'ah ah ah's and squeaks when namjoon shoves his cock in all the way, Petting over your stomach and giggling “Can feel alpha knocking me up.” Omega space dumb and knotted stupid and cute and pretty in the way that-

Hobi’s getting distracted. It’s just the rut pheromones talking.

He's not above putting his headphone in, but the second he thinks of it, he knows he can't. His alpha howls and claws at his chest as is. Begging Hobi to keep watch and do something awful like hold you while Namjoon fucks you or worse- cuddle you from behind when you sleep. Or do something even more embarrassing like try and kiss your forehead and tell you you’re doing a good job.

Everything Hobi's instincts want is absolutely ridiculous.

Namjoon and Jin might fight each other during Namjoon’s rut, but Hobi has a harder battle to win.

He settles for making himself useful; he makes sure there are always enough wipes on hand, makes sure everyone's got a change of clean clothes on the edge of the nest.

Makes sure the omegas cups are always no less than half-filled with ice water. lemon for jin, passion fruit flavored pre-workout for jungkook...and iced strawberries instead of ice cubes for you because you like when they get a little mushy.

it's gross really, who the hell like’s thawed frozen fruit? (Hobi’s alpha thinks it’s adorable how you nibble on them, too hard for you to eat directly, a pup teething. Omega’s get orally fixated quite a bit during ruts. all of you do- although with alphas it’s more an urge to bite.)

Hobi's alpha is pacing the confines of his head, watching, waiting for his turn to be let out. A few knot cycles ago Jin noticed how on edge he’d been acting; never staying stationary, pacing the non-proverbial edge of the pack territory. searching for intruders.

Never one to leave any of his alphas untended- Jin had Jimin retrieve the pack's collars from the other room. Now, Hobi's red collar sits latched at its loosest setting around his throat. It does help settle him, but being settled makes him even less sure of his emotions.

But Jimin didn't just get Hobi's collar, but yours and Jungkook's too.

And now that fucking bell rings every time Namjoon pushes you up and down the nest and hobi's Knot just doesn't understand that Pavlovian ticks don't just spontaneously arise without copious training.

(Yoongi unlatches the bell when it's time for everyone to sleep with a sorry look in Hobi's direction. Is he being that obvious? Is he making either of you uncomfortable? Tae catches him biting his cheek at one point, and tugs on the loose collar until Hobi unclenches his jaw. "good puppy."

He should do more. Get up and get you and Jungkook something more substantial. Protein shakes? Yes. That’s perfect.

You watch Jin and Namjoon fight. There's a little bit of blood on Jin’s teeth when he snarls back, his own fault after he banged his mouth on Namjoon’s shoulder by lunging at the alpha. The taste of it on their kisses, messy and purely brutal- only does more to excite the two of them.

“You think I’m going to bed over for a knot as pitiful as yours? Fucking joke of an alpha won’t even fuck me proper-”

Namjoon yanks Jin back by his hips, pushing him down. The slick sheets of the nest don’t give the omega much to grab onto even less when Namjoon sheathes his cock inside the omega’s hole in one brutal thrust and None of his usual slow-deep gentleness.

Jin squeaks, more of an undignified yell. But the way his cock weeps against his stomach tells all of you that really, Jin's enjoying it.

Jin rakes his nails down Namjoon's back leaving long red lines as the alpha begins to fuck him, apparently not too tired to fight but willing enough to make the alpha work for it. Namjoon’s hand closes around Jin’s cock, fucking him up from both sides. The omega's pleasure tastes amazing when Namjoon laps at his throat, all milky and orgasam-sweet on his tongue. Jin's pleasure tastes like victory like winning something vital.

Namjoon always has to earn it when it comes to Jin.

“Say it again- say it,” Namjoon makes to nip at Jin’s throat and the omega weakly swats him away. “Tell me again how this knot that’s splitting you open is pitiful, huh? Can’t even manage it? is something distracting you?”

Jin rightfully chokes on his next words. Surrendering to the waves of rut as Namjoon starts fucking him in earnest.

You and Jungkook share a look, faintly blushing at the dirty talk. sipping at your protein shakes. Yours is strawberry. His chocolate.

(Hobi might have added a little bit of sweetener to yours. you need to keep your strength up a little right? you’re not quite as durable as jin and jungkook. Are you too tired? Should he protect you from your mean and nasty alpha, shouldn't he?

There’s only one mark that you don’t wear and that’s hobi’s, even Jungkook had sucked a small bruise onto the skin of your behind, and it pokes out every now and then when you shift your arms above your head.

That little fucker even made it the shape of a heart.)

One second, they’re nipping at each other’s throats and the next Namjoon’s waxing poetic about knocking Jin up with his pups. Jin's equally as teary-eyed, grabbing at Namjoon's face and pulling him closer for a messy kiss.

The others don’t seem quite as worried about it as you are, taking a few moments to fluff the nest and remove the absolutely ruined blankets while the pack omega and alpha are lost in each other. Readying the nest for bed. One night down, probably one or two more to go.

You get a chance to ask Yoongi about it later when Namjoon’s sleepily mouthing at the nape of Jin’s neck. Yoongi quietly explains the fighting. Curled on his side, elbows brushing your elbows. Willing for you to run your fingers through his hair.

You’ve been doing it a lot recently but maybe it’s just your grooming instincts. You’ve yet to figure out if you have those like Jin. But the gentle tugging against his scalp is nice. Nicer when he tucks his face down and lets you play with all of it. Yoongi’s hair has grown out a little, dark roots and chestnut red ends. falling a little past his shoulders.

(From the other side of the nest, Hobi watches, feeling oddly touch starved but determined to get some sleep. Jimin falls asleep next to him with his fingers hooked in the loose collar. An anchor against the thoughts that you should be grooming him like that)

"One of these days they’re going to mate during a cycle” your mate admits, worry leaking into his every syllable. “They hold off each time but every cycle it gets a little bit harder. Each cycle they get a bit more violent.”

“Oh?” You pull yourself up on unsteady hands. That doesn’t surprise you one bit. The pack omega and pack alpha have always been that. One half of a matching set. Fated.

“Why don’t they just do it then, if they both want it?”

You’d always thought that if they were to mate it would be more ceremonial, With little suits and some sort of fanfare. you and tae hashed it out in your daydreams and made a pinterest board for it ages ago. Most people treat mating’s as smaller more private weddings if they’re going to do it at all. Both of them are the type of people to want to make it matter. You tell Yoongi as such and he agrees.

“Jin always says his parents wanted him to do it the traditional way, with hanboks and temples and all that.” You both don’t say that this is also how the family likes to structure their mating too. But the subtext is there. Yoongi pets over your arm absentmindedly.

“Jin doesn’t talk about them a lot.” Yoongi knows what you’re asking.

“He’s got pictures somewhere. They’ve been gone for a long time. He has some family still- a few second cousins across the world, but they’ve never met. If you ask him about it, I’m sure he’ll tell you.” You’re the only family I need, he says when you ask and it’s true.

Different cultures handle packs and pups leaving the nest differently. It’s a bit of a history lesson but based on what you know from historical dramas An omega betrothed to an alpha usually qualifies as ownership of that omega. Jin wouldn’t be considered as part of his own household anyway.

Just like you, once you were married to Geumjae you were automatically a responsibility of Yoongi’s family too. Your own hardly mattered.

You imagine what Namjoon and Jin’s mating might look like in the future if it wasn’t traditional. A nest that Jin would make special, all white blankets wrapped in perfect rings. A nest for Namjoon and Namjoon only. The rest of you waiting on the fringes. Your faces lit by candlelight swaying at the rushes of their scents.

Who would bite who first? Would Namjoon yield or would Jin hand over that responsibility to him? You imagine blood soaking cotton, blood soaking souls. The pack as it should be.

No wonder they fight like they do. If that's what they're both thinking about. What they both want but won't let themselves have yet.

Yoongi nuzzles into the bite marks by your palm, Every inch will be claimed and bitten by the end of the rut.

“Why don’t they just do it already?”

Yoongi shrugs, but the truth is that there isn’t a shortage of answers. It could be because of your relatively recent introduction to the pack or because of Yoongi’s distant absence. Tae’s coming out. All reasons could have been why they thrashed the plans they had in the back of their minds.

There's always a reason not to let yourself have something you're anticipating. It drags out the hope a little longer.

Maybe they just don’t want anyone to feel lonely right now.

You think of your own mating and those first few months of heightened sensitivity; how every time Yoongi had taken a step away from you it had triggered tears and a touch starved ness so gnawing it was maddening. chewing your senses to the bone with how grateing everything seemed. the lights hummed too bright without his touch, and all scents stank if they weren't his chocolate.

Yoongi isn’t an alpha of course, but even he’d been a little too protective of you the few times you’d dared venture out or switch hotels. Constantly putting himself between you and anyone who came too close.

On the other side of the nest, Namjoon is quite literally protecting Jin from nothing with his body. A letteral blanket draped over his backside. Fallen asleep knotted inside the omega.

You know Namjoon will be more sensitive to it. You wonder if you’ll be considered other too. Maybe for the first few days until their instincts settle. But it’s a lot to think about especially when you can still feel Namjoon’s cum wet and messy inside of you.

When you shift, a little of it trickles out. Your hand goes between your thighs, physically stopping more of it from leaking out and onto the nest at the last second.

Yoongi sits up abruptly letting out an alarmed noise "Do you need-” he jumps up quick pants pulling loose a little in his hurry to help you. flashing your mark and a few bruises on his hip.

Namjoon must have gotten mouthy with him earlier, but everyone in the pack is a little bitten. Between waves, he’s content to teeth at you like a puppy would at a toy.

Your nipples rub sensitively against your shirt, Namjoon had loved Tae's suggestion earlier a little too much. You and the other omegas have been bearing the brunt of namjoon’s freshly awakened fixations. Your nipples have gotten puffy and sensitive from all the attention. Jin's small pectorals have bitten rings, purpling already and so does Jungkook and Tae.

Your mate cleans you up with delicate fingers, long and crooked and more than a little arousing even though they're purely mechanical. Every time you clench you force a little more out. His fingers delicately check you each time, mindful of your sensitive squirming. He huffs, but it's put upon.

“so messy, my messy pup” he croons, shushing you when you protest, making you lie back. He sets his hand on the lower part of your stomach. "squeeze for me sweetheart- good" You barely resist the urge to cover your eyes as Yoongi wipes you up ever so slowly.

Folding the cum soaked rag around and tossing it wide, it lands on the wooden floor with a thump. But you guess the whole place was going to need to be deep cleaned anyways.

Kisses go nowhere once he’s finished, curling up together on the edge of the nest until you're too sleepy to continue talking. Sleep comes easy to you until you’re summoned by a heavy hot body settling behind you, lips teasing at the mating mark on your neck and the collar.

At least Namjoon makes no move to detangle you from Yoongi. That’s a definite plus. Yoongi even helps hold your thigh up so the alpha can breed you properly. You fall back asleep mid-way, so sleepy that you decide Namjoon can have what he wants of you. If you cum that's Namjoon and Yoongi's business, not yours.

It's better than fighting it.

~-~

(Tae)

It is an unavoidable reality, that one day you will fuck up with the person you love. Not by malicious intent, but just by virtue of being human.

Having you there during Namjoon’s rut ends up being kind of a blessing. With 3 omegas to cycle through every other hour or so- you have the chance to complete a singular sleep cycle between each time you’re needed.

Jungkook’s the one who jumps up the most, the most eager to be used and tossed and thrown around the nest, happy to be fucked into crying, into squirting. But even he tires eventually. squirming away from Namjoon’s hand loosely bound around his cock cage, lapping at it to taste the omega’s thin spend that leaks from it. Squirming away when the alpha wiggles his way between jungkook’s thighs and asks to see his cumruined hole.

But if the three of you happen to need a little extra time to doze. The pack alpha finds no shortage of distractions.

You’re hazy and so so tired when you wake and glimpse just a little of it, but it’s an image that you won’t soon forget.

Hobi’s bare chest dotted with new pink marks and Namjoon nibbling along his throat. Teeth digging into the leather of his collar clearly frustrated with the amount of skin it covers. Jimin and Tae work in tandem sucking around his knot and making out around it. Kissing around it and moving their mouths up and down. alternating between lapping at the head of his cock and sucking kisses onto his half-formed knot.

Yoongi feeds Namjoon slices of tangerine when he bothers to stop nipping at Hobi’s chest. his movements are jerky like he's unsure what he wants more; Hobi’s skin beneath his teeth, to cum, or some fucking food.

Your eyelashes flutter, and sweat drips down Hobi’s chest, purple rounds dotting his skin. And you settle back, going to sleep because to get horny over it is to interrupt them.

Namjoon’s rut pheromones are designed by biology to make all of you sort of horny. As the first day becomes the second, your other alphas become needier and needier. More affected by the rut stench. You can taste him everywhere, on the back of your teeth, their lips when you kiss them. Rileing all of them up.

Before you, the alphas where needed between cycles to make it easier, but now namjoon reaches for them less. they don’t take it personally but- they need their alpha too. At times its not only Joonie that you help settle.

You’re somewhere in between Jimin and Tae by the following morning. Not fucking either of them because you’re far too sensitive for that, but letting them fuck between your thighs keeps them soothed.

You like it. You like being a vehicle for the pleasure you can smell on the edge of their scents, Jimin’s thick vanilla, and the Rosey cinnamon of Tae’s scent so soothing against your rut raw throat. It feels nice just to have them close like this. Tae's back pressed to yours and Jimin nosing at your front.

Maybe this is the other side of the scale, tipped the other day when Jimin got you off in the nest. You don't really want to get off right now and you don't think you will, but that doesn't mean they can't take what they need from your tired body, you trust them that much.

You’re so wet between your thighs, a mess of slick and cum gathers there that your body just can’t keep inside anymore. Too well fucked and tender to clench closed at all. But your packmates don’t mind the mess at all. In fact, they seem to marvel at it.

Jimin had hooked his fingers in earlier, gentle as he spread you to see,

You’re stretched a little from Namjoon's cock, winking at him as you struggled to clench and keep all his cum inside. Messy and perpetually dripping slick and cum.

Namjoon has never thought to fuck you in your other hole either; no need to waste the pack alpha's cum where it can't breed you. You probably couldn't take him there without training anyway. But his cum drips down and wets your tight pucker steadily.

Jimin can’t resist the temptation to rub his thumb over it, making you squirm.

Jimin had asked if maybe one day, you'd thought you’d be able to take two cocks at once.

Jimin's not above admitting that he's got sort of a thing for sloppy seconds. He likes it when the drag goes sticky with squirt or cum or slick. He likes it messy. When he can feel another alpha's cum around his cock.

The drag is slippery and tight when they’ve got you like this. Jimin’s hands hold your thighs together and keep the drag firm. Little translucent webs of cum stick to his lap when he pulls back and fucks forward, more mess slipping out the more he jostles you.

Namjoon always cums so much when he's in a rut, All alphas do. After knotting you more than half a dozen times your stomach feels tight and trembly. It's worse when his cock pushes you clean of everything, and everything he’s spilled inside previously slides down the length of his knot and pools messy and white.

Just like now, both of their cocks are wet from it. You squirm, trying to pull Jimin's palm away when he presses down on your stomach. thumbs digging into your pubic bone. He soothes you, lips plush and bitten pink and puffy. Fuck, he wants to clean you up. Can’t find a way to ask politely. he needs to get his mouth on your cumfilled hole before this is over, to feel how greedy Namjoon got.

"Wanna feel what mess Alpha's made of you baby, it's our job to keep you clean, let us-"

You do let them, let their hands wander regardless of the mess. You're so soft, the chub in your thighs moving as Jimin and Tae fuck it, hugging their cocks and knots. Jimin understands why Namjoon's nibbled at your softness so much. The urge to have you under his teeth is palpable.

It’s hard for the other alphas during ruts sometimes, not because any of them feel any particular ownership over the omegas, You don’t know about other packs- but yours isn’t like that.

(At least, you sort of hope Namjoon isn’t going to be like that. It's kinda cute. When you ignore the obvious red flags and all. All the sweetest cakes have added sugar after all. Everything gets a sugarcoat, it’s brutal and sweet to be used by this)

Seeing Namjoon in rut reminds them of what they usually enjoy but can’t have right now. Like a favorite cake made not for your birthday. Sacrifice never felt so sweet, so alluring. Conjuring up images of what Jimin and Tae's ruts might look like. What it would be like to get you between the two of them like this.

If you weren’t so sore already, you might risk it.

Tae’s cock nudges up in between your pussy lips as she fucks into your thighs. Pushing over your sensitive hole and aching little clit. The familiar velvet of Jimin’s cock and knot just below as they fuck between your thighs together. The drag tight and warm.

Tae’s hands are on your chest again. Touching and brushing with abandon and you arch into her touch. Tae has always loved your tits and touched them more than your other alphas. They’re sensitive now from how much Namjoon's bit at them. The cool air soothes where her fingers don't tease. The shirt rucked up to your throat.

The attention makes Jimin pause, huffing warm breaths pressed to your throat. Tae keeps his eye contact as she teases you. It's a challenge and an invitation. Her action's slow like she wants him to join in. Jimin's fingers reach but stutter. Cupping your rib cage but go no further.

Jimin's seen Namjoon do this too. The pack alpha has spent a good portion of his downtime suckling at your chest between rut waves, falling asleep there even. Parted mouth pressed to your sternum.

The pack omega often reaches to pull your shirt down so that you don’t have to sleep so exposed. Taking pains to think of your comfort and Hobi’s. The pack omega keeps Hobi on a short leash, looping his arms around the alpha's waist and dragging him into a cuddle whenever he’s not being fucked. There’s something about Hobi- Jin’s gentlest pup- that’s particularly soothing when Namjoon goes feral.

Now Jimin eyes your chest nervously, even as Tae prompts him. Is this the kind of fuck that Tae's always wanted, to be kissed and cupped and sucked at, to be touched gently like this?

Hasn't he done this?

Tae's hand run's through Jimin's hair and he's a goner. "Won't you help make her sensitive Minnie? I promise she's as sweet as she looks."

Bitten, you look so bitten and so claimed. So theirs. Jimin's so close, so close to painting your thighs milky, to cumming all over you and making a mess of your hole with namjoon. Tae's cock pressed close feels heavy and warm too. The familiar velvet that brushes against him occasionally intoxicating.

But Jimin is nervous, and he hesitates. You keen at the attention, your nipples standing puffy in the cold air, teased further firm with how Tae's touching you. alternating between the slightest pressure and mean tugs. Pulling sweet little mewls from your mouth at the new stimulation.

Tae fucks up and closer, pushing through your heat, moving their position so that she's below jimin and can trap his cock between her and your slick cunt, lips parting so that Jimin can rut up and through you, nudging at your clit.

Fuck- it feels so good. You mewl and Jimin finds it easier to lick into your mouth as opposed to your chest like Tae’s prompting. This close to cumming, he doesn’t think.

(pleasure makes alpha’s so so so dumb.)

It’s crazy that just one word is what does it. “Take it- take it baby” Jimin rests his forehead on your shoulder. He doesn’t see Tae’s flinch at his next words. Doesn't notice that anything's wrong until it's too late.

“Just like you take all of your boys' cocks. Yours yeah? We’re all yours.”

Tae’s pleasure flags so quickly that her hips stop mid-thrust. Her Cock remains trapped between your thighs. Suddenly aware of it, the faint burn there, the faint wrongness, just a little. Jimin keeps fucking your thighs.

Maybe she’s too sensitive because one moment she wants this and the next moment, she needs to detangle herself from you two. To sit back and rationalize that of course female alpha’s have cocks so her’s shouldn’t feel wrong or different. She knows Jimin didn't mean it that way and yet.

She moves back from you gently, Her cock only semi-hard now. Popping free from your thighs and pressing to your ass. Wet and glossy.

All your boy’s cock’s, boy cock, not girl cock. Because Tae is not a girl in the ways that matter, not a girl without the hormones and bi monthly blood tests and effort, Tae doesn’t get this without effort. If she had a cock sheath like female alphas it would be easier. She could tuck her cock away and forget it even existed. Maybe she could pretend to be a female omega like you and never let anyone touch it at all.

Being a girl always feels a bit like playing pretend especially when the dysphoria rages with hungry hungry jaws. Begging for Tae’s blood or her heart in it’s mouth.

It’s crazy how it’s just that that does it.

Jimin’s face flashes up like he’s realized what he said and how wrong it was. As Tae scrambles away from both of you in the nest, it’s Minnie who moves after her. You flop down onto the blankets suddenly cold. You’re left alone, a pretty heap at the edge.

You let out a chirp of surprise. To your alphas, there is no sound more grating.

The sound makes Namjoon perk up from the other side of the nest, jerking even though his knot is deep in Jin's hole.

Yoongi pauses. He’s been feeding Jin grapes for the better part of the last half hour. The bowl is mostly empty, with a bit of water at the bottom that spills when Namjoon yanks his cock from Jin’s hole.

You clamp a hand over your mouth but it’s too late. Unhappy packmate, scared packmate. The sound summon's Namjoon like a moth to a flame.

Tae stands on bambi legs. She just needs to get a little bit of air in her lungs, something to make her lungs not feel so tight. Minnie’s not far behind. “Tae I didn’t mean-“ he reaches, arms looking like they’re about to go in for a hug. But She holds up her hands keeping him at arm’s length. Tears wet on her cheeks.

“Minnie. It’s okay, I just- I don’t think I want you to touch me right now, please just- please don’t- just give me a second.”

One of Namjoon’s pretty alpha’s upset would be bad enough, but two is unconscionable. Prompts him to stalk across the nest. Angry pheromones roll off of him in uncontrolled waves.

“Wait Joonie don’t-”

Too late. His fingers dig into the napes of their necks, a rough growl sounding out that says ‘obey’ more than any word. Jimin and Tae fall under Namjoon’s scruff. Tae’s a little less able to keep herself out of Namjoon’s grasp clinging to his arm that goes around her waist, keeping her standing.

“Good pups. Don’t startle omega.” Namjoon's voice is gravel incarnate. His alpha strength works double-time as he holds them up. You let out another alarmed squeak as Namjoon places both of them back at your side.

See omega, I’ve got pretty alphas for you. They can protect you too. See how much I provide? Is it enough for pups?

Namjoon scruffs them stupid them first with his hands and then with his teeth. Tae's spaghetti strap falls down. And she blinks languidly.

“Mine, my omega” he growls, lapping messy licks against the nape of Jimin’s neck. Red and inflamed from the scruff. “Not yours. Mine. Be good.”

Jimin and Tae will talk about it later and will agree to leave what happened in the rut just that- words that were spoken in the heat of the moment. That's all, right? just a temporary slip-up, right?

For now, they’re obedient.

These two alphas have not bred you yet, and Namjoon must remedy that immediately. He pulls you to your feet the second they’ve both settled in a heap. It’s the only time that he has you on your feet. The other pups watch on their knees, eye level with your cunt as he fucks you.

Tae keeps her distance from Jimin for the rest of the rut.

~-~

(Mine)

That’s not the last time Namjoon acts possessively with you, far from it.

His claim on you is always there. Regardless of Yoongi. Regardless of the mating marks.

It's there as fuck you back on his cock, holding your ankles in his hands keeping you from pushing yourself on his knot. All exposed like this, bare in the nest.

You're just glad that Hobi's is asleep, that he's learned to sleep through the fucking. You find yourself looking over at him all too often. His redhead buried in the covers, his shoulders rising and falling. But each time Namjoon catches your gaze straying he fucks you harder, a little deeper. Pressing into that spot that has you gasping. Knuckles pressed to your lips to keep from making too much noise and waking everyone. Wet cunt grinding out another orgasm on his knot.

Namjoon looks possessed by some demon- mouth running rabid when he’s not knot dumb. The others warned you that the worst parts of Namjoon's rut are at the end, but you expected him to stay less vocal. Having him talk is almost worse. If this isn't the end, you wonder how much worse he's going to get.

“Gonna knock you up. Gonna fuck you so good and deep that everyone knows you’re mine, gonna make it stick, gonna ruin you for everyone else. Mine. You’re mine."

Sweat drips down his nose, panting heavily, licking at his canines every few breaths like he’s soothing an ache. Eyes crazed, an alpha mad with lust. "I wanna hear you say it pup. Tell everyone how good my knot is. How good it fills you up. How much you don't want theirs now that you've got mine. You're mine.”

“////Yours” you sob and Namjoon fucks into you, putting both your ankles in one of his hands so that he can cup the bulge in your stomach, the feeling of him knocking you up. He presses you down, folding you in half in a way that will surely hurt later but only makes the pleasure burn now. His other hand goes to your throat, cupping it weekly all to feel your thundering pulse. The scar tissue there rough against his fingers.

“This mark means nothing. You’re mine.” He snarls.

Namjoon pushes you belly down on the nest when his knot pops. Making you cum again. Tongue lapping at the sweat between your shoulders, holding your wrists like you’d ever be able to squirm away, body pinning yours.

Yoongi is not hurt like you might think when he hands you over an icepack to sit on later and swats at Namjoon nosing at the beta’s hip and mouthing over the mark. He’s a little more lucid so close to the source of Yoongi’s scent. A little less threatened and a little more in love with the idea of you being bound together by the soul.

You think he might be thinking about him and Jin, but you're not sure. Asking him right now would be pointless; he’d probably just use the question as an opportunity to talk about pups.

“You little shit- is the fact that we’re both helping you not enough?” Months ago the comment would have left you on edge, but you’re used to their sometimes-biting banter now.

Namjoon just grumbles and tucks his face under the hem of Yoongi's shirt to hide from the morning sunshine.

~-~

(Bloody)

You don’t mind being bitten by Namjoon. There’s something sweet about it the first few times he gets a little teethy. Nibbling at your neck, your throat. But eventually, he does start to use his teeth in rather unfortunate ways.

Namjoon eats you out a handful of times over the course of his rut. You never expected your slick to tame your alpha entirely but you’re easily proven wrong. You've kept off from using it to your advantage mostly because you and Jin had feared close to the end you'd need it. Your secret weapon.

The first time, it’s because Jungkook’s close to passing out.

The line between asleep and awake, conscious and not- matters little when it comes to the waves of Namjoon's rut. Whatever Namjoon needs he can take, at whatever time he needs. That’s the way the pack functions. You knew what you where signing up for when you agreed to this.

You all try and sleep in between when you can. You find you often fell asleep immediately after, still knotted to him. Lulled into restfulness by Namjoon’s tongue laving at your throat, soothing the marks almost apologetically. You're usually unaware when he pulls himself free of you, easily transferred into the waiting arms of packmates to help clean you up. Gently manhandling your body like a stringless marionette.

He rarely lingers longer than that, and barely even sleeps himself. There is always Jin or Jungkook beckoning him coyly with open thighs and slick-soaked holes, even the other alphas begging prettily. Or Yoongi who pushes at Namjoon's shoulders in a way that riles him up and makes him need to claim, to put the beta in his place. Namjoon’s instinct to claim and breed pulled in seven different ways.

When you wake next, it's to the sound of soft sobs and choked moans. a faithfulness, and you know you must have been knoted in the last hour, you think you might have dreamed it, but the tell tale ache between your legs says otherwise. you lie on your belly, your omega prompting you to roll onto your back and show everyone your belly.

but then, why is someone crying?

Your eyelashes flutter, face resting against Tae’s soft stomach, rising softly in sleep (you might have pulled yourself over to comfort her, unable to entirely forget the smell of her sadness) still fussy and upset about what happened earlier.

Jungkook is being pulled back and forth on Namjoon’s half-inflated knot. So big. Too big to be going in and out of Jungkook’s hole like that. It’s Angry red, sensitive skin that flashes as the omega sobs. Someone must have finally taken off his cock cage because his little cock leaks freely, untended, and pink looking. Cumming harder as a result. Too hard and too much.

The waves are coming about every hour or so and even though Jungkook can take it the sound of his wailing is startling. You’re not the only one who thinks so. Something bad must have just happened because when you open your eyes again Namjoon's still growling and Hobi’s holding his hands where he can see them.

Maybe Namjoon’s misaligned rut brain viewed Hobi holding Jungkook up as a challenge. Another alpha trying to take away the hot pressure around Namjoon’s knot. Something Namjoon’s instincts do not allow is a threat of any kind.

Namjoon will bitch Hobi into submission if he feels he needs to. He probably will need to before this rut is over. Namjoon will remind Hobi what a proper alpha’s knot feels like. It’s his job to teach his pups how to fuck and breed.

Namjoon gnashes his teeth and Hobi does a good job of not looking too scolded. But you see the metaphorical ears pinned to the side of his head. His alpha curling around his tail. Namjoon holds Jungkook's chest curving protectively over Jungkook's back. Lips lifted off his teeth. The omega's eyes wet and glassy, rolling back.

You don't like it. Hobi looks so sad when Namjoon growls at him. You know he won't take it personally. But still.

Jungkook sags forward and sobs. He can feel the alpha all the way in his throat. Small cock leaking steadily and messy onto the nest below him. A pretty picture but a devastating one. You can tell by the way he sobs and hiccups that he really is going to pass out if you don’t do something.

You get up on trembling knees and Hobi tries again. “Joonie, you need to slow down.” his voice is low and honeyed, gentle but Namjoon’s not there- not really. The rut haze all red tinged and feral. Namjoon’s about to snap at him when you interrupt.

“Alpha?” Their heads snap in your direction.

You've never joined in while Hobi helped but the nest is empty of everyone but Jin, fast asleep. The rest of the pack are talking in the kitchen, over the high walls of the nest, and you know Hobi can't do this alone. He can't do this without you.

“Alpha- I’m all messy,” you say, bringing your fingers in between your legs, gathering the slick and cum there until your fingers are sticky. Webs of it cling to your fingers when you bring your fingers up and show him.

Thank God for the water-resistant blankets below. You don’t miss Hobi’s flush, the way his eyes go to your fingers too. Gulping, eyes dart from you to Namjoon and back again. The sudden shaky breath that careens through him roughly. The sight triggers the sweetening of not only Namjoon's coffee scent but of Hobi's caramel too.

(It's safe to say Namjoon's rut pheromones have you all fucked up)

Namjoon stops dragging Jungkook back on his half-formed knot, letting it rest inside. Namjoon’s gaze trains on your fingers. Pupils dilated and dark, empty pools of instinct that reflect your face and the glimmer of white cum on your fingers. Him, it's him that did that. Bred you messy.

But you turn to Hobi and hold out your hand.

He’s fighting the flush but you know from the quirk of his lips that he realizes you're only doing it to taunt Namjoon. Does sexual intent matter if you're just going through the motions?

You bare your cum soaked fingers to Hobi, trying to be brave, ignoring Namjoon. “Can you help clean me up alpha?”

Namjoon snarls.

He yanks his half-formed knot out of Jungkook who collapses forward. Jolting up to beat Hobi to your fingers (although the other alpha does not actually try to get to you before Namjoon).

You hold them out of the way, struggling not to flinch as he quite literally crouches over you. Teeth snapping in your face as he reaches for them clumsily. Flailing a little.

As if on queue- Jungkook lets out a heartbreaking chirp.

Namjoon freezes. You think you might watch Namjoon’s heart drop into his stomach, caught like a fly in a spider’s web. At war with what he wants. Either your fingers and your slick or Jungkook. He can’t have both.

Jin yawns, rolling onto his belly so that he can reach Namjoon's ankle, tugging at it roused from your squabbling. “Lie back alpha- let both of your omegas have you. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them would you?”

Jungkook gets his breath back, whipping his hair off of his forehead. And he’s just about to fall when Hobi catches him, arms straining, letting out little mumble grumbles that he's alright just tired. Namjoon's glare goes back to Hobi, cautious and unsure. Hobi tips his head to the side, bearing his throat in a display of submission that adequately dulls the edge of Namjoon's instincts.

“Let me help our omegas alpha. You taught me so well, let me help you breed them.”

You swallow.

Our omegas. Breed them.

But It’s just the rut talking, isn’t it?

Being on his back makes Namjoon feel too prone, too vulnerable. But the horny side of his brain wins out over his protective side as Jungkook returns between his legs. At this angle it’s harder for Namjoon to fuck up into Jungkook and therefore easier for the other omega to set a gentler pace. Working the knot slowly inside his hole as opposed to the brutal jackhammering before.

You cringe internally, but Namjoon’s fixated on your hand as he lies back. Made a puppy when offered the reward. You don't think you've seen his dimples for a day or two. The sight of them eases that last little bit of you that's unsure that this will work.

At this point, you think you might just want your Joonie back. You’re willing to do anything to make this rut end as quick as possible.

If your slick helps that happen, you'll do it. No matter how sensitive you are and how sensitive you might get. They've kept mostly away from your clit until now but you've still cum more in the last 48 hours than you have in your entire life.

There’s a little bit of cum on the edge of your shirt. Someone must have dressed you after the last round and not been careful. It grates against Hobi. You shouldn't be the one to help with this. There are others.

When Hobi looks over for the rest of the pack he finds Tae holding Yoongi by the shoulder, holding him back while she eats strawberries slowly. Jimin glances between them, at you and Namjoon. But Tae just juts her throat at him in a challenge. As if to say, 'You can handle it, can you?' Tae keeps both of them from helping you.

Maybe they’re just talking about what happened earlier. Deciding to just let it be and not talk it through. Occasional slip-ups are expected after all. And any displeasing conversations would surely prompt Namjoon to scruff them both again.

You watch Hobi gulp, and you don’t let yourself look down at his crotch to see if your suspicions are true. Namjoon’s lying back and waiting for you to shuffle over him. You're brought back to the matter at hand by a growl.

Even if they came over, you're not sure they could help.

Namjoon’s been in the throes of the rut for nearly 24 hours. Only 36 left to go. Probably, if your slick doesn't quicken it up.

Ever so slowly you bring your fingers to his lips. Namjoon’s tongue is messy and hungry like your slick is ambrosia and honey. He nibbles at the pads of your fingers, your palm, everywhere until you’re licked clean. Needy growls for more once all trace is gone. His brain goes quiet and less feral for the first time since the rut started. More, he needs more.

You shuffle forward, hiking up the hem of your shirt so that when Namjoon chases your fingers his eyes fix on a more worthy prize.

There's a little bit of his cum, a single milky drop of it, leaking down your thigh.

Jungkook yelps when Namjoon pushes himself further up in the nest, jostled by his sudden movements, but it’s you yelps when Namjoon pulls you down by the hips onto his mouth.

Namjoon’s licks against your cunt are hot and greedy, almost a little teethy. You think you could be forgiven for letting out an undignified squeal as he sucks on your hole with little warning. His tongue touches places you didn’t know it could arching and licking up. You have no time to consider if it's gross or not as he laps at your cum fucked hole. Something about it is primal. Namjoon’s the one who made you mess and the one who cleans you.

His fingers rub lazily over your hole as if to coax more slick out (like you’re not already dripping) lapping up what leaks like a man starved.

His body goes slack, scent mellowing out from crashing waves of coffee to ebbing ripples of smooth want. Jungkook sighs. Offered a brief reprieve as Namjoon’s hips stop rocking entirely. Jungkook starts up again after a breath, moving his hips in small circles, deep but not quite as fast. Milking namjoon’s knot.

He can only handle his sensitive prostate being stimulated for so many hours before it starts to go a little unpleasant.

You’re going to have bruises on your hips from how hard he holds you down on his mouth. Forcefully grinding your pussy onto his nose, his face, his tongue. All in an effort to get you closer. To get more of your slick inside. Namjoon can taste the hot heady almost metallic taste of his own cum, the heat of you addictive.

You clench and force a bit more of it out, and his knot pops, near instant, making Jungkook wince as it swells hot and full. Namjoon purrs at the taste of you; he'd be happy staying right here for the rest of his rut. Nuzzling into your pussy and breeding jungkook full.

You can do little more than moan and take it. Leaning forward, balancing your hands on Namjoon’s stomach trying not to rest your full weight on Namjoon's face (the alpha has other ideas and yanks you cleanly back over his face.).

Your hands rest right over Jungkook’s. Holding his shakily. You're face-to-face with him like this as he twitches through Namjoon knotting, the feeling of being steadily pumped full of Namjoon's cum. His face is sweaty and his hair's a little greasy but no less beautiful as his lips part is a quiet moan. Both of you are a mirror image of debauchery.

The stretch of the knot is slightly painful, but it grounds him. Pain and pleasure have always been one side of the same coin for Jungkook.

He leans forward, cheeks pink and eyelashes fluttering. He cups his own sensitive cock almost as an afterthought. Cumming is painful but he still wants it. Wants to feel the intimacy of cumming when you do. Together. (Jungkook's a bit of a sap like that) His thighs are straining. His abdominal muscles twitching.

Namjoon's biceps flex as he holds you down, and Jungkook watches, whimpering and looking as unsteady as a sapling in a summer storm. You can't even pull an inch off his face, no matter how hard you try.

Luckily, Hobi is there to hold around Jungkook's waist and keep him upright. There's no chance he'd be able to move to a more comfortable position. At least not until Namjoon's knot has gone down or he's done with you. Whichever comes first. Jungkook doubts Joon will stop anytime soon.

You moan loud, Namjoon’s lips mouthing endlessly at your clit, his licks inarticulate and not the usual careful rhythm- too feral, too much slick and saliva. Hobi stiffens as Namjoon moans, low and throaty.

Your cheeks are flushed, lips parted, and panting when you look up at him. Hobi can’t ignore the tingling in his gut, your shirt does little to conceal what’s happening and he can’t help to watch Namjoon lick. Pussy dumb pup lost in the taste of you, tongue laving over the little lump of your clit like he's playing with it.

You're a little chubby down there, Hobi didn't expect it. Your lips are glossy and puffy pink. Does every inch of you have to be cute?

Your cheeks are flushed. Your words almost slurry, sensing Hobi's spiking thickness, the anger- it has to be anger right? What's making him smell so musky and potent. Pushing out the scent of Namjoon a little even. Goey caramel burning in your nose.

“it’s okay- it’s okay Hobi I’m not- it’s okay-“ I’m not going to get any ideas if you get turned on by this, it’s just your body- it’s not consent. I’m not going to think you want me if you get hard. “I’m only going to touch Namjoon- if that’s what you-“

Your gasp presses against Jungkook's chest, the omega shifting closer to you. Teeth itching for a bite, for something to hold onto as your peek barrels towards you.

Jungkook's pectoral against your face as namjoon rocks you into a gentle grind. Hobi’s hand splays protectively along Jungkook’s hip. And you can’t look at him, you can’t look at him or else everything will be fucked.

“Good alpha” Jungkook remembers to praise, oblivious to the uneasy closeness you have with Hobi. His hands are there, just there inches away and you know how they feel, how soothing and rough his touch can be sometimes. They might brush your shirt a little when they grip around Jungkook’s waist. Not your skin but just where the fabric hangs.

Does it feel warmer when it falls back against your sternum? Or is it just your imagination.

This is the closest to anything sexual you’ve ever gotten but not the most intimate you’ve ever been with Hobi. What is barer and more dangerous? To trust someone or to fuck them? What makes you feel more vulnerable?

He watches as you stiffen up, spine arching, sweat beading at your brow that he finds himself wanting to brush away. You’re moaning, cumming over Namjoon’s mouth. Dripping on his chest, around his throat.

If this were different, Hobi would get you a cool cloth, clean your face and feed you little bits of cold fruit. Everything, everything is so so hot right now. sweat slips over his brow, yours too.

Jungkook grinds deep on Namjoon’s cock, his knot too inflated to pull out still, also grinding back against Hobi’s hardness. He’s fully hard, not even half hard as he watches. Although Hobi’s arousal is the least important one here.

Your lips part and you jerk. Oversensitive as Namjoon sucks on your clit. Hair falling over your shoulders, a bit of it stuck to your bitten and kissed lips that hobi wishes he could tuck behind your ear.

He does, slowly and carefully, hands shaking all the while.

You start to lean, and Hobi grabs you, holding you and keeping you from falling anymore. But the relief of being touched is only temporary because no sooner has he reached out is he snatching his hands back.

He gets up and out of the nest. Mechanical, his body panicking without noise, without words, without sound. You let out a choked sound that sounds an awful lot like his name.

Blunt cute omega teeth dipping into your scent glad as Jungkook bites you for something to hold onto as he climbs that high peak and crashes down. Cumming seconds before you. Cock spurting clear omegan spend messy all over your stomach and Namjoon’s chest.

Namjoon growls at Hobi’s sudden disappearance, but he quite literally has too much on his hands to do much about it. Even as the sour scent of his packmates itches like something horrible down his spine. Pleasure first. Settling an unsettled pup second.

He's only emboldened by the fresh rush of slick, hands sliding up to hold you open, to press up and suck. Namjoon's long fingers hook over your thighs but his thumbs hold you apart and bare for him

And then he hooks his thumbs inside your hole and pulls.

You didn’t even know you could squirt like this- hot and greedy over Namjoon’s face. overstimulated pussy spasming.

Namjoon loves it. Slick drunk and completely gone.

The real issue comes when you try to pull off again, "Wait- fuck- please-" Namjoon scent sours, and one pup moving away from him he can handle, two is too much. The growl is loud and feral- not a growl of pleasure. A warning.

On the edge of the room, intent on going downstairs to where noodle is and the scent of you won't be so thick. Hobi glances back, alarmed. Your alpha is having none of it, he turns his face and bites the nearest inch of flesh to keep you still.

He bites hard.

Pain. Not the good kind that lights down your thigh. You yelp. It sounds different, not pleasure filled or chased with a moan. For how fucked out everyone is the pack descends on the three of you faster than you can blink, quicker than Namjoon can take his teeth out of your thigh and lick the mark to soothe it.

You think he might actually have broken skin for a second.

Hobi instantly reverses direction. Almost tripping over the edge of the nest in his eagerness to get back to you. “Fucking shit Joonie- what the fuck are you fucking doing-“

Yoongi jerks you off of Namjoon quicker than you can tell him that you’re alright. Jin yanks Namjoon up by the scruff of his neck and shakes him a little. Tugging Jungkook with him, wincing at his tender hole still stuck on Namjoon's knot. The alpha sags under the pull of Jin's fingers and his angry scent; acidic and stinky wet puppy.

“Bad alpha! Bad!” Jin scolds, pinching Namjoon’s slick cheeks and hissing, leaning over him. Jimin surges forward to hold Namjoon down.“You know better- you do not get to bite my omega like that” Namjoon’s eyes go cross-eyed trying to keep his eyes on Jin as he leans over and growls, "I think you need a reminder of who you belong to pup.”

Jungkook groans, and you know from the way that he goes still that Namjoon must have just…cum a little bit more. Tae is close, hand soothing on your knee as Yoongi frantically still holds you, dragging you to a clean side of the nest. Away from Namjoon to look at the bite mark.

“Let me see baby, show us- oh- fucking hell. I’m gonna kill him.”

Namjoon got so close to breaking the skin. There’s not any blood, but it still might scab. You get gentle kisses to it, and a bit of cream to soothe it too, a big band-aid covering your inner thigh, and more than a few apologies on Namjoon’s behalf.

That’s what makes Jin get Namjoon's collar. The pack alpha isn’t happy about the metallic jingle that follows him. Like a tom cat made kitten-lethal by a bell around his throat. The end of the collar gets hooked around Jin’s wrist and stays there for the remainder of his rut.

His punishment is a brief and brutal affair, one that you experience only in the distance, face tucked into Yoongi's shoulder, Jungkook and Tae curled around you. The sound of Namjoon howling and skin smacking skin behind you until it's not. Jimin and Hobi have to hold him down.

“Namjoon’s going to be so mad at himself.” Jungkook will say to you later, watching the pack alpha snore. “He gets mouthy sure- but never ///that bad.”

You all know what it was that made Namjoon react that way but none of you broach the topic of you and Hobi and your dynamic. When Namjoon’s done being punished Jimin folds him close, scent marking him soft over the top of his head. You nudge your mate and feel a little bit better when Yoongi goes to him too.

Later when Namjoon wakes, the sadness and shame make him lucid.

“I’m sorry-“ he hiccups, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Crying over the spread of breakfast, lap covered with a blanket to keep him decent. shaking with quiet sobs, “I said- I said I wouldn’t hurt you and I did and now you’re leaving. M' bad alpha."

“There you are Joonie!” you tease, trying to stay positive but failing a little. Your scent is still a little meek, a little muted, and it makes Namjoon want to cry even more. He knows it's really only his fault for not having his wolf on a better leash. The cool metal around his neck does wonders to calm the fire.

You aren't going anywhere but he keeps crying no matter how many times you say so. Cuddling closer to him, rubbing your cheek stubbornly over his arm. Namjoon reaches for you and then jerks back like he’s afraid of his hands. You ask him to feed you and he does, sniffling every few bites. But Namjoon will feed you for as long as you let him, will do only this if that's all that you allow. It’s a good distraction.

You're no stranger to being treated roughly. Maybe you're a little upset but your trembling sour scent is soothed by the presence of your pack.

Namjoon would never submit to you outside of a rut, but Jin keeps him on a tight mental and physical leash. Soothing him carefully with a hand in his hair when he gets mouthy again and the rut eventually re-peaks. He's gotten Namjoon's muzzle and left it on the rim of the nest. A warning. “If you want to taste her or any of us, it will be through this."

You stay close until Namjoon’s calmed until his tears have w-rn themselves out, and you think you might be on the downside of the rut. The next time he knots you, it’s obediently at Jin’s discretion. Jin hooks his fingers into the chain and pulls Namjoon back and forth. Keeping the pace. gentle enough that you just barely cum from it.

When you look over, Hobi’s turned away from you. But his chest is rising rapidly, he’s not sleeping. Not yet.

Hobi doesn’t try to leave the nest again, and neither do you.

~-~

(Worth)

When you wake, it’s to the sound of tense voices.

“-Why didn’t you step in? She needed you. This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just-” Feeling abandoned isn’t something Hobi tolerates well. The idea of you feeling abandoned is even less easy.

Tae just pushes off the edge of the couch, standing, keeping her voice low so that it doesn’t wake the rest of you. You do not turn to see her lean down to cup his cheek. To see the almost apologetic touch.

“I didn’t because I knew it would make you angry.”

Hobi blows air through his teeth, scent souring, resisting the urge to tell Tae to fuck off. Her smile is a little sad and a little knowing. Searching his face for something she finds.

Tae's thumb rubs up and down his cheek.

“I know you’re not angry for yourself, you’re angry for her, aren’t you?” Tae’s fingers rub against Hobi’s scent gland. Part of him wants to pull away from the touch. “Do you know why you feel angry? Do you know the surprise yet? Do you know how much you care for her or are you determined to avoid it until it causes more problems?”

Your eyelashes flutter, and you try and stay awake to hear the rest. Try too- but you’re so so tired.

Don't spoil the surprise.

Part of Hobi wants to snap at Tae and tell her that she has no ground to stand on when it comes to problems, like she and Jimin have barely touched in the last 24 hours, haven’t touched much at all since Jimin slipped up. But he doesn’t. He won’t hurt her that way.

There is a reason why Jimin kills every one of their plant collection, why he’s not allowed near the watering can. He gives them so much water they drown. Sometimes, Hobi is worried he's got the same attitude when it comes to love. that the whole pack does, That Tae has learned it too.

Tae continues when it becomes clear that Hobi won’t. “The truth is I think it could be worth it. I think her love is worth it Hobi and I know Your love is worth it too.” Tae’s eyes are full of stars that don’t exist, shooting ones and planets all in alignment. “If It was your rut right now, she’d- ”

Hobi pulls his face out of her hand and turns around. Effectively ending the conversation. Tae sighs and leaves him be.

When you open your eyes, you find Namjoon awake and staring at you. You put a finger to your lips.

He doesn’t make a single sound, even though you know he heard her words and Hobi’s response. He presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling into your cheek. Fingers closing around the nape of your neck, scruffing you until you sigh and fall back asleep.

~-~

(Ease)

Waves of rut aren’t always sexual. Sometimes the waves manifest in a gnawing more important need, a touch-starved franticness to have you all close and safe. And Namjoon's needy hands pull you all on top of him into one big puppy pile.

The mess of the blankets has gotten truly gross and the blankets need to be switched out. The pack didn’t account for quite how much you squirt. Someone made a run to the basement to put some of them through a wash cycle. The feeling of clean sheets is so luxurious it has you all belly up and sleepy.

God, you can’t wait to feel clean.

the other omegas seem to think so too, all lumped together around namjoon, kissing and licking and grooming each other. Brooding instincts make your bodies warm heavy with the need to stay close, to stay still and let namjoon’s seed take.

the idea that all three of you might be knocked up makes namjoon pur, watching the three of you share kisses over his prone body, has his cock stirring in interest. but you’re just focoused on licking into each others mouths because honestly- you miss Jungkook and Jin a little.

Cleaning up the nest and grooming and nesting with each other is going to feel so good once this is over. Jin might even sneak into his and namjoon’s special Little secret supply of courting gifts just to give you and jungkook some fresh joy.

“Did i do a good job omega, am I being good for alpha?”

Jin has never purred harder, “of course you are baby, my good pup.”

Namjoon comforting rumbles are the antithesis of his earlier growls. An alpha purr if ever there was one, cautious and hopeful. His waves are coming less quick now, more gentle. A half hour between the spikes instead of just ten or so minutes.

“Gonna make a nest for pups?” he asks, almost shy, nosing at Jin gently. The omega has pushed away his attempts to feed him 3 times. Namjoon’s ego would be in tatters if it weren’t for you and Jungkook still accepting little mouthfuls. The bowls of fruit never seem to empty, figs and sweet chocolate-covered nuts, fat chunks of apple, and round glossy blueberries that you lick meekly from Namjoon’s fingers.

“Yes you big puppy, for pups,” Jin says, because he knows it will set Namjoon into that puppy purry grumbly alpha space version of himself that truly is gentle.

During these moments, Namjoon demands that every available inch of his body be covered with his pack. You end up in a pile. Some of you eating, some of you marking each other, others asleep.

It’s almost less liberating than the horny waves, you’re less mobile when he gets clingy. Namjoon sobs at one point herding Jimin back into the nest panicked that he thought to leave it. Wet face tucked against the nape of the alphas neck. “See alpha? I’m safe- nothing happened to me?”

Sometimes Namjoon's dreams are a tangle of different senses and not all good feelings. A smell acrid in his lungs, the sound of screeching like an animal being murdered at night. Sensations that are a tangle of danger, hidden force plotting the pack's demise. The pack's blood on the air, sharp claws dragging over your skin. The rut nightmares are always hazy, always nondescript cries of pleasure and pain shrouded in darkness.

Only with the pack all around him does his skin stop itching like it's two sizes too small.

It’s better to hold off on sleep, to keep his itchy eyes open so he can verify you’re still all alright. To have each of his packmates under him. Scenting each of you sloppily (and no matter the mess coating him). He cupps the jaws of the alphas to test their teeth. Nuzzling into Tae's hands, Hobi's sternum, and Jimin's shoulders. Setting his head to rest over Yoongi's heart so he can hear the gentle thud thud thud that tells him he's done a fine job really, he only has to wait for the rut to be over now.

Of course he does spend many many minutes Insistently mouthing at the omega's belly buttons. A heavy face plant over Jungkook's, possessive little laps against yours that tickle and make you giggle, and sleepy nuzzles against Jin’s with starry eyes.

(Namjoon likes these moments a lot lot more than the sexual ones.)

~-~

(Drip)

The next time the pack let Namjoon taste you they’re a lot more careful not to let him get slick drunk. The next time you wake up to it.

You're on your tummy, comfortable, and woken from a mid-morning nap. Namjoon's rut will be done by today probably, in the night maybe. Until then he wears the collar and muzzle. The metal wiring and a locking clasp on the back is so complex that Namjoon’s rut clumsy fingers can’t figure it out.

You’re first aware of the rubbing, something metal moving over your cunt making you clench up in interest. And Jin’s voice soothing needy whimpers that come from somewhere. "There you go Jooine, gentle like that. She's slicking up already! Good puppy!" The words are vaguely demeaning, sweet mean in the way that Jin gets sometimes.

The sound of the chain Jingles, but it feels good, whatever's happening between your legs feels so good you could have probably cum from it and not even woken up.

Collars for puppies, chains for wolves.

Your cheek rests against a warm inner thigh. Cinnamon, and roses. You nuzzle into the scent, soft skin pillowy under your cheek. Slack lips parting in pleasure, eyelashes fluttering looking up.

Trust Tae to look cute during a rut cycle. The nightdress she wears is comfy and dotted with little floral roses, it’s bunched up a little where your hand has fisted in the fabric on her hip. She coos down at you while Namjoon pulls your hips into a gentle rocking. Lying on your side, comfortably reclining, and doing none of the work to get off.

She cups your cheek, waking you up a little. Her smile is a little sharp-edged, arousal making her mean like Jinnie, "Go on baby, look at how good your mate is being for alpha," Hardness nudges at the front of her skirt and it has to be from what’s going on around you. Tae guides you with a hand cupping your jaw, making you look.

Namjoon's upper body turned so that he can get at your cunt but his hips remain firmly pinned to the nest by Jimin sat astride across his thighs. Hobi is side by side with your mate between the pack alphas legs, lips kissed pink and chaffed as your mate sucks around the base of Namjoon’s cock where his knot inflates. The skin there is red and sensitive while Hobi kisses and licks at the head.

Later- later you’ll think about it. The way that they looked, eyes closed, lips parted, and file it away for your own personal spank bank (that’s what the boys might call it) feasting on the pack alphas cock and lapping at it like it’s an ice pop on a warm summer's day.

From this angle- Hobi must be able to see all of you, hips held open so that the muzzle and Namjoon's face can fit in the hollow of your thighs. held open and on display for your pack.

The fine mesh of the muzzle is warmed from Namjoon’s breath, at least warm enough that it doesn’t make you hiss when he holds you over it, gentler this time. If you could see the way that Namjoon goes almost cross-eyed trying to look at your cunt, you just might laugh.

But he watches as your fucked entrance clenches, all pink from his own diligent fucking- the silvery whiteness of his cum and your slick that drips. He guides you back and forth across it and every time your clit drags just right, your hole clenches forcing more slick out. The mesh is smooth and pleasant, the drag just right when soaked with slick. Just rough enough to get you off and not rough enough to hurt.

Namjoon keeps his mouth open, hoping for some of the slick to drip down. behind him, Jin holds the collar and grins at you.

You can barely protest through the humiliation as jin pulls back, and declares he’s going to give you a hole check.

you try to grip jin’s wrist but his stern expression says he’s not to be ignored. Your clit stays plastered against the mesh and Namjoon doesn’t blink, doesn’t even breath as he watches jin’s long fingers probe and poke and explore the wet depths of your cunt. Searching for any sign that Namjoon’s done too much damage. pulling your pussy apart with both hands so that he can see all of you. pussy lips made puffy from so much fucking, hole cute pink and hot clenching around his fingers, not nearly as tight as you where a few days ago but not inflamed.

Taking a cock so big so many times in a row can be dangerous for anyone, and while Jin was worried it appears that you really were made for this, taking such a big cock like the perfect slut. Without complaint. Jin could cry he’s so proud as you lay on your shoulders and just take it.

You only let out a squeak when jin rubs deep, trying to touch that forbidden place that namjoon’s ruined time and time again with his cock and knot. there you’re too sore for more.

“You fucked her so wide namjoon, all the others are going to have a hard time having her on their own. might need to pair up and knot her two at a time. Spoiled puppy just wanted everything for himself.”

you protest, babbling that you couldn’t possibly take two cocks right now, but Jin just coos and ignores you. You wish you didn’t find it hot how he talks about you like you’re not there. Like you’re just some object for Namjoon and the pack’s pleasure. A hot flush of want rushes down your spine as jin strokes your insides and you resist the urge to pull off from the sensitivity. It hurts, but it hurts so good as jin fucks four fingers into your cunt, pressing down with the flat of his hand and rubbing.

You think you’re fine, that you’re just going to hiccup through this orgasm until Jin reaches, looping his arms around your middle. You think he might actually be trying to mount you, pressed all close, his omega cock standing hard and ready, lined up between your thighs. But then he hooks his fingers into the mesh of the muzzle and drags Namjoon back into a grind against your clit.

You can’t stop the hot gust of wet that drips down and through the bars. Not just your slick, but a bit of Namjoon’s cum too as you clench hard.

It’s mean- it’s so mean and you can’t do more than sob as you make a mess of the muzzle, it’s gross and it’s humiliating but Tae only coos, brushing away your tears and pinching your cheeks making you look down at your mate and Hobi and jin.

“Good pup. Pretty baby too full huh, so messy and dumb that she couldn’t keep it in anymore. Don’t worry, if you lose alphas cum he’ll just fuck you full again.”

Namjoon nods jerky, you’d never know his knot had just popped if it wasn’t for your mate’s low curse.

A rope of cum lands across his face, and then Hobi’s. It drips down his slender nose to his lips. And he sags, tired. All of you are near the end of your ropes, near the end of what you can handle.

Namjoon’s words are slurry and inarticulate. “wanna keep her like this all the time, Gonna fuck her so good she ends up pregnant, gonna push it deep. Gonna do it before her mate does.” Hobi clamps down with his hand, holding tight around Namjoon’s knot. Heavy hot ropes of cum hitting his chin, his scent gland as Namjoon groans, stomach twitching, “Want it- want more.“

You look back at Hobi, tongue looking long as he licks his lips clean.

Jin laughs when he feels your stomach clench. Cunt spasming weakly around nothing. You didn't think you still had the energy to cum however gently. A few drops of slick and cum lands on Namjoons held out tongue. Jin’s hands cradle your stomach and guide your shaking thighs off of the muzzle. man handling you until you’re sitting in Tae’s lap.

She laughs, but says nothing about what just made you cum.

~-~

(Special)

Eventually, the omegas are just too sensitive to continue. You're all too well fucked. Jin’s cock is red and sensitive from Namjoon's mouthing. Jungkook’s hole spanked and swollen. Your entrance is puffy and pink and beyond the point of being able to take anymore. Even the most gentle of touches makes you whine. Too sensitive, much too sensitive for another knot.

But that doesn’t mean that Namjoon’s rut necessarily ends.

It won't truly cease until all members of the pack are fucked and pleasured by him. Until they smell claimed from the inside out by his knot and cum.

It takes hours of prep for Yoongi, Hobi, Jimin, and Tae to take Namjoon’s knot, their bodies just aren’t built for it. It’s easier with Jungkook and Jin's and your slick on their fingers. Traded from your bodies, sometimes collected from around the base of Namjoon’s knot.

It’s filthy and it definitely makes his rut feel more like a gangbang than anything. but it is incredibly hot to watch Jin open up Yoongi not with his own slick- but yours. to lap at the beta’s hole to savor any that might slip out. Namjoon’s pussy privileges have been recently revoked.

Your mate makes noises you’d never thought you’d hear him make. Deep full bodied Moans wrenched from his chest and low curses as he takes Namjoon’s cock. Yoongi's a bit lazy, happy to lie back and let Namjoon man handle his body into whatever position he wants, too tired to do anything else. You kiss his pouted lips while he hisses at the stretch of a knot but he still cums when namjoon reaches down to tug at his cock. You like Yoongi like this. Face resting across your thighs while Namjoon fucks him to the point of oversensitivity. albeit gently.

You thought that watching Tae and Jimin get fucked by him would be hot and brutal. For Jimin it definitely is; it's almost nearly as bloody as Jin and Namjoon got earlier. Namjoon ends up with a black eye and jimin with a bruise on his ribs, but it's all good fun and leaves them both grinning and happy.

But with Tae, Namjoon holds her so so gently.

The matter of Jimin's slip-up earlier has been put to bed for now but it’s not entirely forgotten as namjoon lingers over her. He cradles her hips, touching her thighs by pressing his palms flat and dragging ever so slow. like he can't believe Tae's there, that she's his to love and fuck and cherish.

Namjoon bunches up her skirt so that he can watch her cock bob. And noses at her nipples the same way he nosed at yours. The neckline of her flimsy nightdress pulled down low. When he sucks she keens, cumming wetly between them.

Watching Namjoon fuck Hobi though- that feels like something truly special.

Unlike with the rest of you, he lies firmly across the smaller alpha's back. Thighs pinning him completely so that he can't move at all. Fucking him in the same position the omega's took. Rocking his hips in deep. Licking and lapping and biting with abandon. Hobi’s lips part in pleasure as he groans, comfortable and at ease with a show of such submission. Hands scrabbling but pinned down by the wrist. Namjoon keeps him still and makes him take it.

Namjoon scruffs him the entire time while he fucks him. Hobi goes numb all the way to his toes, his whole body live and alight with pleasure.

His cheeks pink and his long eyelashes flutter as you watch. Knot-long popped and completely forgotten, rubbing uselessly between his stomach and the sheets. no need to use it when the pack alpha has a cock like this, splitting him open.

Hobi looks up at you when Namjoon knots him, body stretched to the breaking point.

This time, You don’t look away.

~-~

(Silent)

When Namjoon's rut finally breaks it’s in the middle of the night and it’s quiet.

Every single person's chest rises and falls, eight hearts beating in tandem. The tv buzzes faintly and the porch light is still on. Everyone’s dreaming and everyone's safe.

For now.

You’re on top of Namjoon’s chest, palm placed over his heart, Jin’s head is on Jimin’s shoulder, keeping him alive with his presence, heart beating stubbornly even now. Jimin's hand holding Tae's across the covers. Everything’s calmed down from Tae’s meltdown. Close at last.

They’ll talk about what happened tomorrow when the pack can pile in at the table and eat their fill and recover.

Or maybe they won’t. Maybe Jimin and Tae will wake up and pretend like nothing’s wrong like nothing changed. They’ll kiss good morning, trying to pretend like there isn’t anything wrong. Something between them that hovers on the edge of every kiss is a little bitter. Every touch that doesn't last as long as it might have before.

Jin will wash each of them one by one, starting with Namjoon and ending with Yoongi. Hot water to ease their muscles. All of their sore-bitten skin made new with bubbles and body wash. Namjoon will apologize for biting you and be lucid this time. Will take care of any marks that the pack wears like happy brands.

Tae's wrapped tight in Yoongi’s embrace his large hand cradling the back of her head like he can keep her dreams inside that way. Jungkook’s belly up, hand resting on his bare stomach, greasy hair a tangle over his head, in need of a shower and water.

Even Hobi’s breath is quiet and easy, his body relaxing as his pack alphas scent dissipates into its usual mellow coffee. Leaving the rut behind.

It’s just as quiet when they float the body out to sea.

On the shore, a pair of women linger on the edge where the streetlights become shadows.

Moonbyul and Hyejin watch their two packmates move through the water. Matters don’t always require that the ruling omega and alpha get their hands dirty but this murder did. This task they couldn't trust to anyone else but their inner circle. While It’s not the most pleasant task, both Solar and Wheein had been awfully eager for a chance to leave the nest and prove they could be good.

“Do you think they’ll get the message?” Hyejin rasps, throat raw feeling from the cold salty air. Wrapped in her dark furs. Mouth just as red and ruby as the lingering blood under Moonbyul fingernails. The towels in her hands are clean. She’s ready with them so that both of their omega’s don’t have to linger in their shivers for long.

It’s a sweet gesture. If they hadn’t been so good the last few weeks, they might not have earned it.

Moonbyul doesn’t look at her, eyes on the barely their forms that store the body by the rocks. Out where the water grows deep and crashes hard. Both of them are good swimmers but having them out of the nest always sets her on edge. Hyejin has never known what for. It's not like either of them could ever leave or be stolen away. No one would dare.

No one would have dared, until Yoongi did.

Moonbyul been a little bit antsy maybe since the recent loss. That antsiness has only grown as the months have dragged on. Hyejin knows she’s not on edge just because of the body.

They’re supposed to find it. It’s not their usual clean and crisp hit. But that's the point.

Moonbyul doesn’t look at Hyejin at all, keeping her eyes on the festering sea. Cold air wiping in her face, the taste of salt and blood on her tongue.

"Are you worried?"

Moonbyul scoffs, “A good dog comes when called.”

Hyejin cocks her head, ruby lips lifting into something like a smile. Thinking of you, eyes upturned looking at her for approval as you mixed poison into baking material. flour and powdery arsenic, You were always good, obedient and eager to please.

“It’s not her I’m worried about."

Moonbyul sets a soothing hand on the nape of her neck.

“Then we'll give them another incentive.”

~-~

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farfromstrange · 1 month ago

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Broken Heart Syndrome

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After Matt stood you up at dinner, you are tossed down a rabbit hole of agonizing thoughts. As so often, you turn to the bottle to take the edge off, though this time, you make the decision to confront at least one of the objects of your anger. To your drunken mind, at least, even the worst decisions make sense.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST, Heavy on the angst (18+), graphic descriptions of domestic violence (involving a belt, too), allusions to sexual assault, mentions of homicidal ideations, self-hatred, alcohol abuse (and everything that comes with it), argument between friends, Reader says some mean things, suicidal ideations/depression

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: I'm sorry you had to wait so long for another chapter, but it took me a very long time to finish editing. There are parts in this chapter that hit very close to home, and I can't just post it without saying a thing or two. If you or anyone you know struggles with domestic violence, there are organizations that can help (check domesticshelters.org, for example). The same goes for mental illnesses; don't be afraid to seek out help if you start noticing symptoms. Check with your doctor or healthcare provider. There is absolutely no shame in asking for help. You've made it this far, and I am so incredibly proud of you. It was important to me to share that with you. Read at your own risk, please!

Read Chapter 14: Broken Heart Syndrome here on AO3!

In medical school, they teach you that a broken heart can quite literally kill you. Acute emotional distress can overstimulate the heart, causing the left ventricle to collapse. Takotsubo cardiomyopathy looks like Japanese takotsubo, an octopus trap. Still, those without medical expertise know it as Broken Heart Syndrome—because three words are all you need to understand what emotional hurt can do to the body.

A lot of the time though, the human psyche compels a person to find other ways to deal with the pain that eats away at them. Bad coping mechanisms can be just as deadly as a physical disorder. Self-harm doesn’t fix the actual problem, it only distracts your mind momentarily from what is truly hurting you.

Like with any other disease, a broken heart will get worse if it’s not treated. Either, the organ literally stops pumping blood as it should, or it drives you to a point that would easily get you a free 72-hour stay in the psych ward. Emotions are unpredictable like that.

As a doctor, you know everything in the human body is connected. If the body is sick, it will affect the mind; if the mind is sick, the body will suffer, too. Mental illness can be just as deadly as any terminal condition. If pain and trauma are not properly dealt with, chances are high that ignoring it won’t make you any better. And alcohol or drugs are never the solution to a problem, they only cause one problem to branch into a million more—and then you’re fucked.

You are aware that self-harm is the first thing a desperate person with a history of trauma will turn to, but it’s so much easier. In practice, life is fucking vile; it’s a miserable existence that is slowly killing all of us, and you would much rather burn the skin off your bones while you’re still alive than face the very demons you’re trying so hard to run from. You know that’s a sick mindset to have, and if it were anyone else confiding these thoughts in you, you would refer them to the Department of Psychiatry to get the help they need. But you… you cannot be helped. Not anymore. Because you don’t want to be helped. It’s all useless anyway.

The door to your apartment slams shut with a deafening crack of the hinges. As soon as the world is locked behind a deadbolt, and the city has disappeared, your back hits the wall.

A minute ago, he texted you. You prayed for an explanation to a God you don’t even believe in. You prayed that it would all make sense and your brain is spinning in nauseating circles for no reason. You just have to sober up and everything will be okay, you thought. But then you unlocked your phone with shaky and stupidly needy fingers, relying on a hope that stemmed from this childish need to be loved after the one parent you’d had left failed so miserably, and his words drilled into your brain like a sharp knife.

“You deserve better,” he texted. “I’m sorry.”

What a weak excuse. It’s supposed to be your choice, deciding what or what not you deserve. With one text, he took that from you.

It was stupid, you think, to get your hopes up. You were just starting to believe that you could finally move on. The weight on your chest felt less heavy with him there. Matt was never supposed to appear in your life, but then he did, and for the first time in a very long time, you felt like your life mattered again. He put a smile on your face. You don’t remember what it is like to be happy because you never really felt happy before. Since you can remember, you have been running for the sake of survival. Anything you have done up until now was a mere act of self-perseverance.

With Matt, it felt different. He understood you because he, too, seemed to be only existing, trapped in a cage of his trauma’s making.

You were dating again, albeit reluctantly and fighting back like a cat on steroids—but you were dating again. If you wanted your effort to mean something, you had to get over what happened. It’s not that easy, of course, but you believed her when she talked you down from the ledge.

You should have listened to your gut. Everyone in your life will eventually end up leaving or hurting you, or both. You’ve been rotting away for so long, there is nothing left of you to give. He touched your heart once, and now you’re falling apart.

Because there’s not enough of you there to love.

Because no one wants you.

You slide down the wood of your door. If only the floor could open up and swallow you, the pain that traps the oxygen just before your lungs could end. And if you could only cut out your amygdala or sever the connections in your prefrontal cortex to stop being this miserable about a man you barely knew, you would.

The tears running down your cheeks are silent. Dry. They taste like poison on your tongue, but your skin feels almost numb to the burn. You can’t scream or sob because there is no air for you to breathe. You’re drowning on dry land, and the rapid drumming of your heart echoing in your ears is the only sound that exists. It isn’t steady like a clock; it is a ticking time bomb in your chest threatening to explode—threatening to turn into an octopus trap and kill you.

There was never anything left to endure for. You have been torturing yourself every passing day like a fucking masochist, watching yourself on the big screen like a puppet without the intention to stop.

Icarus flew too close to the sun, but boy, you flew right into it. You would have made Matt the sun if he had stayed around for long enough, made yourself dependent on him all over again, and you would have drowned regardless. Maybe it was all for a reason; maybe Claire was right, after all, to push you to see the truth for yourself—how foolish you’d been—but why does that reason hurt so damn much? You barely knew him enough to care, and yet you did. It makes no sense.

You deserve better. If he truly believed that, he would have said it to your face.

The phone slips from your stiff hand before you can reply. Every muscle in your body strains, stretching over bone and lighting every cell and every nerve on fire. You can’t move. You’re sure you are going to die like this, a mess on your living room floor.

He broke your heart; Matt Murdock took it right out of your chest and smashed it up because you dared to want more. He wrapped his hands around your neck and suffocated you. He gave you hope, and then he took it away, and that is something you’re sure you will never be able to forgive. What kind of man doesn’t have the decency to tell the truth before it’s too late?

You tear at your dress, hoping to inflate your lungs somehow. The walls around you threaten to cave in. Everything seems larger than life, suddenly. Even with your hands stretched out before you, you can’t stop the avalanche.

This isn’t about Matt. It has never been about him. Cracks in the broken foundation of an already shattered heart don’t hurt as much as the first crash, they only add to the agony. How messed up do you have to be, you think, for your brain to not even notice the difference between getting stood up and having the ground ripped out from under your feet? You were never good at math, but perhaps you are the sum of your actions, after all.

A car honks outside. The bright headlights flash through the gaps in the blinds on the windows. You remember how they hit him one night, reflecting off the pure white of his dress shirt. His chest was heaving then.

“What the fuck were you thinking, huh?” he had bellowed, drowning out your repeated sorry’s like a tsunami wave. “You embarrassed me in front of… of everyone. My boss, the whole hospital—and you think ‘sorry’ is going to fix it?”

You can’t quite recall whether the lights were white that night, or if they were red and blue, and the only thing louder than his screams were the sirens of cop cars rushing by.

“You’re never gonna learn,” he’d said, crouching down before you, and he looked like what you would imagine the devil to look like if he were human. “You’re always going to screw up because you, my love, are absolutely and utterly fucking incompetent.”

On second thought, maybe there were sirens outside. They sounded different from your quiet sobs. He forced you to keep your eyes open, to watch as he undid his belt, and against every bone in your body, instead of running, you stayed rooted in place. You stayed there until he grabbed you and threw you into the coffee table.

The vase stayed intact, thankfully, as it tumbled and fell, but you could see your reflection clearly in the porcelain. You watched him come up behind you, and all you remember is how hollow you were; you were so fucking hollow your heart could have screamed and it only would have echoed before it would have died. You were bound—bound to him.

“Get up.”

You could have grabbed the vase and smashed him over the head with it.

“I said,” he repeated, “Get up.”

Your hand slipped from the porcelain, and you got up. It was like he knew you wouldn’t have the guts to kill him. Lord knows you wanted to; some days, you were so close to stealing a knife from the kitchen and slashing his throat while he was asleep. You’d watch him choke on his blood with a smile on your face, you thought, but as soon as the handle was in your hand, you realized that you couldn’t. Not even when you thought about the belt, the feeling of him on top of you as he took whatever the fuck he wanted from you over and over again until he drew blood.

It should have been enough to make you snap, all the abuse, but you physically couldn’t touch him. At first, you thought you loved him too much to hurt him. Your feelings were complicated and you were hardly aware of how dire your situation truly was, but eventually, you came to the realization that the inability to jab a knife into his jugular had a different reason entirely.

You had no money, no power, no life outside of him. He seized all of your income. You didn’t own a valid passport, a bank account, or a car. If you had killed him, you would have been a fugitive and a thief. If you had left him, you would have found yourself jobless and disgraced with nowhere to go. No friends, no family, no love. And so every time you wished him dead, the knife wandered back into the drawer. He owned you.

Toward the end of your relationship, you used to imagine the sirens were coming for you. If you had filed at least one report, maybe someone would have heard. Maybe they would have paid more attention to the cries for help from the neighboring apartment. Maybe then it would have never come this far.

The past can change your future, but you can’t go back in time and change the past. If we could, life would be so much easier.

You manage to crawl from the door to the couch where there’s a half-empty bottle of tequila hiding in a paper bag. You need to forget to remember how to breathe.

The burn of liquor blazes through your taste buds, taking them apart and putting them back together all the same. You choke on it when you try to swallow. Nothing has ever tasted quite this bad, but you can’t stop. The dull ache fills your chest, even if it’s just for a second, and you need more. You can’t stop because if you stop drinking and open your eyes, you will see his face again. It’s worse than dying; at least in death, there is peace.

You drink until the already half-empty bottle is empty, wiping the tequila from the corners of your mouth. You sniffle, you gasp for air, and you sob into the dead quiet of your apartment. Matt should not have the power to hurt you this badly.

The drunker you get, the more his face starts to blur. All faces start to blur.

“Stupid fucking idiot!” you curse under your breath as you storm into the kitchen, tearing through the liquor cabinet that used to be full but now resembles more of a black hole with stray bottles of vodka all around.

Drinking pure vodka is like pouring disinfectant directly onto an open, gushing wound. The only difference is that alcohol only works to kill off unwanted bacteria on the outside; it doesn’t exorcize the demons in your head.

Time keeps running, and the liquor keeps flowing, and you don’t remember which way is up anymore, you only know that it won’t stop fucking hurting. Fuck Claire, fuck Matt, and especially, fuck him. Fuck everyone and God and the whole fucking universe. You just can’t do it anymore.

The cold air hits your face when you stumble out of your apartment complex. Your brain is jumbled, and the world is turning a little too fast. All you know is that the walls were caving in on you, and your veins were swelling with the heat of fury—like you were drowning in your blood. Vodka makes you dumber, yes, but it also singles out one singular emotion for you to obsess over, and you won’t be able to rest until you get it all off your chest.

A cab pulls up to the curb. You only have a handful of cash, but it should be enough to get you where you want to be. No, where you have to be.

You catch your reflection in the rearview mirror, makeup smudged and reeking of alcohol and despair. What the driver must think of you—a lonely woman in the back of his cab with her hand clenched tightly around the bottle of maze in her bag, thinking she’s so subtle about how terrified she truly is underneath the mask of anger that drives her. You can never be too careful, never too mistrusting when there are men involved.

The car comes to a halt only ten minutes later. “Are you sure you should still be drinking?” the driver asks, nodding toward the liquor store across from you.

You scramble with the cash in your hands. “I’m not here to drink,” you manage to say. “I’m visiting a friend.” And you point upward to the dark windows above.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You hand him the money. “Keep the, uh, change.”

He is about to protest, wanting to tell you that you overpaid and you might need to pay for a ride back, but you slam the door on him before he can get a word out. You don’t need a stranger to tell you what to do.

The curb feels unsteady under your feet, almost like the ground might open up and swallow you whole. When you eventually manage to find the door, you almost break the door as you force your way inside. The lock has been broken for quite some time, so a key isn’t required for entry, but there is something about the wood tonight that proves trickier to open.

Every step up the stairs knocks the air out of your tired lungs. It’s late, and rationally, you know you shouldn’t be here in your current state, but you’re angry and you’re drunk, and you want answers. At least for one of the many shitty things wrong with your life lately, you need to find a reason or you will continue sucking on the bottle of vodka until the lethal limit doesn’t exist anymore.

On the fourth floor then, you slump against the doorframe, utterly exhausted. Your head is spinning. Your stomach is churning. How many drinks you’ve had before you got here, you can’t even remember, but you are starting to feel the deadly concoction wanting to purchase a ticket for a ride through your esophagus.

You hammer your fist against the wood. Once, twice, even a third time. No answer. You try again, less gentle this time. Once, twice, a third, a fourth, and a fifth time, and then you lose count. You knock and knock and knock until your knuckles feel like splitting open, but you don’t stop—you use your palm, waiting for the creaking of the floorboards to tell you that someone, anyone, is home. If you could scream, you would have already, but your throat is burnt dry. You abuse the poor door until finally, you hit the air.

“What–” Claire stops halfway, her eyes falling upon your slouched frame. A meow sounds from inside the apartment. “Liv?” she asks. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s 2 am!”

You didn’t realize how late it has gotten, or how long you must have been crying and drinking and crying some more.

“What happened to you?”

She was asleep. You’ve been trying to call her for days, but here she is, perfectly healthy, wrapped in a robe that isn’t hers, and she has been asleep while you were losing your mind. You were hoping something happened to her, that she didn’t ghost you for no discernible reason, but from the looks of it, she did just that. Yes, she looks miserable with dark circles under her eyes and the room behind her a downright mess, but your mind refuses to be anything but irrational right now. The burning hot anger is back, coursing through your veins at a speed almost too much to handle.

“What happened to me?” you snap. “I’ve been trying to reach you for two fucking days, and you’re asking me what happened?”

“Shh!” Claire pulls you inside. The door slams shut behind her, much louder than your voice could ever be. “Jesus,” she says. “Quiet down.”

A pause. Under her gaze, you almost feel small. Scrutinized, even. “You smell like a fucking distillery,” she adds after a moment of just staring at you—staring as if she had any right to.

“That all you have to say?” Your mouth falls open in a snarl. “Well, fuck you, Claire! Fuck you!”

She flinches, your harsh tone leaving a sharp sting behind. “Okay, maybe we can just sit down and have a conversation like normal people.”

“Unbelievable,” you say. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Normal people. You don’t know what that word even means anymore. You don’t know what anything she says means. You look at her and all you see is alarms blaring in your head, warning you, screaming for you to run, but you are tethered to the ground in the very position you put yourself in.

She utters your name and your entire body recoils.

“Don’t call me that!” It is toe-curling how foreign the word sounds. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, too, like acid raining from the sky. It burns; everything fucking burns. “You know, All I needed was my friend. I needed my friend and you weren’t there,” your voice cracks. “You told me I had to get back out there, and I did. ‘Cause you said it was the right thing to do. I believed you, Claire. I put on this stupid dress and these stupid heels and…” You sob, the memory rubbing salt in the open wound, “Matt fucking stood me up!”

Claire stops dead in her tracks. “What?” she asks.

You laugh through the tears, a sound of complete and utter desperation as you find yourself at a never-ending crossroads. You never learn, do you?

“He stood me up, okay?” you say. “I went to dinner, he didn’t show up, and then he texted me that we’re not gonna work out, so…” You throw your arms up. “I hope you’re happy. Whatever you were trying to achieve, it obviously worked. I trusted you, and I trusted him, and it kicked me in the ass. Fucking congratulations!”

It isn’t fair to blame her for his actions, by any means, but you’re just so angry. Your blood is boiling, turning into liquid as thick as tar, and it poisons you from the inside out. You want to scream at him; you want to scream at Matt and ask him why, fucking why did he do that? But you can’t bring yourself to text him, too drunk to make any rational decisions. The voice of reason in your head is a fuzzy, blurry mess. All you want is for this endless cycle of bullshit to end.

Cliare lowers her head. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” she says. “I– I never… I never wanted this to happen.”

Is that guilt you’re hearing?

“I swear I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. I mean, if I’d known…”

“Save it,” you cut her off, every word from your mouth becoming increasingly slurred. “We both know you wouldn’t have come running ‘cause you clearly had more important things to do. I don’t even know who you are anymore. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have gone to bed without making sure I wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, and now you’re moving into some nurse’s apartment with a cat you’re allergic to, calling in sick and ghosting me. Me! I’m your best friend, for fuck’s sake, and you weren’t there!”

“I told you, I’m sorry. I had some shit going on, and I just couldn’t–”

You scoff. “You’re lying to me, again!”

“Please, Liv, you have to believe me,” she says. “I didn’t know this was gonna happen.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t…” Shaking your head, you tangle your fingers in your hair. You want to pull every last strand out one by one and feed them to the dogs, maybe that will give you your sanity back.

You hate not understanding. You hate not being able to read the person you thought you could trust. She swore she would never lie to you. What can you believe in if even her word is now hanging in the balance? You don’t know, and that’s something you hate, too—not knowing. The helplessness that comes with a dead end makes you want to cower in a corner, smaller than anyone has ever made you feel, and die.

Claire’s silence sounds like nails on a chalkboard. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, or maybe that’s your own. The blood is rushing in your ear. You’re standing on hollow ground, and it’s shaking—a ship lost at sea. You have to pinch yourself to stay alert. To stay awake. But the vodka in your system has already made you sick.

“Woah!” She catches you before you can stumble over your own feet.

Gravity is tilting your body toward the ground, but your body wants to rush toward the door. You have to run, you think. Why, you’re not sure, but you have to run.

“Hey,” Claire says. “Maybe you should sit down.”

You shrug her off. “Fuck you!”

She lifts her arms above her head, but it is not a motion of surrender. Far from it. She’s giving up and giving in to the anger that is creasing her brows.

“Well, fuck you, too!” She steps away from you. “You come here in the middle of the night, drunk off your ass, and you expect me to just take it? I’m sorry, but I’m not gonna indulge you. Not when you’re acting like a child.”

Your palm hovers above your churning stomach. “How dare you?” you snarl. “I’m not the one acting like a fucking toddler.”

“Have you ever considered that there are things I just can’t tell you? That sometimes, you just have to trust me? I never wanted you to get hurt,” she says. “After the other night, I figured you didn’t need me anymore. If that’s what you’re so mad about, sue me!”

“I did need you.”

It’s her turn to shake her head at you. “No, you didn’t. You decided to go on that date. You didn’t need me for that. But I didn’t…” She takes a deep breath, and her eyes remain guilty as sin. “I never wanted you to get humiliated like that.”

You are too drunk to process the implications of her cryptic statements. To you, they’re just a series of words on a very fuzzy billboard in your mind; you loathe what you’re hearing. Because you believe her, even though your better judgment is telling you to abandon ship. To jump into the ocean and let it take you away.

“Yeah, well,” you say, “I still did.”

Some scars never heal. Fresh ones tend to tear the ones that haven’t closed yet open, and then it hurts so much more.

Claire lowers her voice to a more mellow tone then. “I met a guy, okay? Like you, I met a guy, but he screwed things up for me and now I’m stuck here until shit has blown over. That’s why I’m hiding.” She sounds almost like the same woman she was a week ago. Before the world stopped turning.

“I wish I could tell you everything, but I’m trying to keep you safe,” she says. “I’ve always just wanted to keep you safe.”

“And how’s that turning out for us?”

She scoffs. “Not good, apparently.”

Your knees begin to buckle, unable to hold your weight any longer. Claire reaches out. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Fuck off!” you try to shrug her off again.

“How much?”

“Just… Tequila. Vodka. Half a bottle, quarter, I don’t know.”

“Jesus, Liv,” she says. “You’re insane.”

You roll your eyes. “Fuck you,” though the words hold a lot less power now.

“Would you stop? I get it. You’re mad. You don’t have to keep insulting me.” She gently guides you over to the couch. “You know, all I wanted was to do right by you, but I can’t be there all the time. Some things, I have to deal with by myself, and yes, I’m sorry for not being there, but I would’ve been if you really needed me.”

Claire reaches for your coat and pulls it off, much to your dismay. She ignores your scoff, anyway. “I would’ve dropped everything if you’d just called me tonight. You didn’t have to drink yourself into a coma to make your point.”

“I’m fine,” you protest.

You thought she was done helping you, but her good heart betrays her every time. It’s infuriating. You don’t want to be coddled. You don’t want to be treated like a patient—you’re not. You did this to yourself. The world is spinning. Your stomach feels like a pool of toxic waste, but you did this to yourself, and you’d rather lie in your misery than have her fix it.

When you try to rise to your feet though, all thoughts fade to black. Your ears start ringing. You blink, trying to get rid of the ocean that is flooding the world around you, but night quickly settles in. You can’t see.

“You’re not fine.” Claire pushes you back down. “You’re gonna sit down and you’re gonna let me help you.”

You open your mouth to make a snarky remark, but you’re starting to panic. The room is too dark. Your heart beats to the rhythm of mere milliseconds, and you swear you can taste it on your tongue.

“Do you want to turn into your father?”

The audacity, you think. The words sting worse than a thousand needles in your body. They sting worse than a headache. They sting worse than a knife to the fucking back.

You don’t want to turn into your father. You have never wanted anything less. You want to scream at her. You want to leave. You don’t want to be anywhere near here. But you’re paralyzed on Claire’s couch with her towering over you like the caring nurse she is, and you have nowhere to go. Your body has nowhere to go.

You did this to yourself.

She tests the pulse on your wrist, then again on your neck. Her voice is starting to fade into the background. The last thing you hear is her berating you for being “so fucking stupid” with the concern of a thousand armies before your thoughts entirely, finally, dissipate.

The world turns quiet as your body slacks, falling victim to the alcohol in your bloodstream, and it’s the most peaceful you have been in years.

Thinking nothing.

Being nothing.

You wish you could stay like that for the rest of your life. You don’t want to die, not really; you want to think nothing, be nothing, and just float for the rest of your life in a space where no one can ever touch you again. Where he doesn’t exist. Where you have no memory of your father, of the things he did to you. A space where not even Claire exists, and where you can pretend that Matt never stumbled into your godforsaken life, either.

You want to cease to exist. You want the world to end. You want to drown in alcohol until you can’t feel a thing anymore.

In the end, though, life is an endless, vicious cycle; no matter what you do, you won’t escape it until you’re dead—actually dead. And no amount of alcohol could ever change that.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred @echo-ethe @kezibear @peterbarnes @littleagxs @silas-aeiou

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock angst #tw: domestic violence #do no harm #charlie cox

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spotaus · 14 days ago

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Important plot point for the New Age AU post-story dustedafterdeath plot- (realizing now slight tw for abusive relationship???)

Geno is a manipulative bastard who exerts his skill and prowess over others. With Reaper their relationship was balanced and became healthy thanks to Reaper actually being stronger than Geno. So all of Geno's manipulation was more like an angry chihuahua barking at Reaper. They got over that stage fast.

With Dust?? He doesn't realize he can't show his interest the same way. Doesn't occur to him that Dust is "lesser" than him in every situation. Royal Mage against a Knight, the Mage has more political power. Geno has direct ties to Reaper, who they need to keep happy for Night's treaty. Geno has more technical skill w/ his magic and Dust is sure the technique and control would be enough to best his own barely controlled magic. He's physically weaker, especially after his shoulder injury. So when Geno realizes he's caught feelings he feels guilty, but doesn't stop manipulating him?? Because Reaper was fine with it, so clearly that's how romance works right?

And it is (shocker) NOT how romance works.

While Dust is being low key pampered and spoiled by Reaper (Reaper recognizes the power dynamics very vividly and I'd sure to make sure Dust knows he can say No or Stop at any moment to anything, even hand-holding or escorting, and Reaper respects it) as Reaper compliments him and gives him gifts and asks how he's been. Geno is out here hyperfixated on Dust's latent magic and is getting his way to learn more no matter the cost (which, in this case, is faking romantic interest). And Reaper doesn't realize how intense Geno is bring because he *thought* Geno would know better. And with the fragile situation, Dust doesn't speak up.

So, ofc, it all comes to a head when Geno finally realizes he's gone too far, Dust completely shuts him out. And Geno is too proud to face his consequences and come clean to Dust about his intentions. Dust, usually quiet anyways, just moves on, though he's deeply distrustful of every pampering Reaper does for him now.

It isn't until 2 days later that Error is talking with Geno (y'know, brother gossip) and Error asks how it's going with Dust.

When Geno responds that his plan fell through, Error asks for elaboration, and Geno tell him the jist. Leas Dust on, then let him down gently. But he caught feels and Dust didn't seem to like the advances so he gave up. And Error knows his brother and knows that's not the full story. So they change subjects, and Error convinces Geno to go visit the woods on the edge of town to test a new weapon of his.

But once they're out there and alone Error reads his brother the riot act because he's so furious and disappointed!!! Dust of all people?? Manipulating him??? And when Geno tries to defend himself (digging a deeper hole and processing just how awful he was himself as he says it out loud) Error just straight up pulls him into combat. (And Geno, not wanting to accidentally hurt his brother but also furious + caught up in emotion, fights back.)

They beat eachother into the trees and the rocks and just tear into eachother, but by the time the Knights arrive to see what the problem is (the cats got word to Ccino, and Ccino sent Dust and Cross to figure it out) Geno is pretty much on low hp and Error is wounded but still standing.

Error spots the Knights and basically uses his strings to slam Geno to the ground at Dust's feet. And there's this moment of frustration and sorrow that seems to pass between the three of them, before Cross (<- unaware) asks what Error was thinking!

Error just says he'll explain it later and that they can go back now. Cross should carry Geno. Error would explain to Reaper (Geno flinched at that).

They return, and Error pulls Reaper aside to mutter some things to him. Reaper seems distressed and takes Geno from Cross, but doesn't even seem bothered at seeing his lover as roughed up as he was. He excuses them away, and Dust disappears into his room.

Error hunts down Dust and chills with him a bit. Error apologizes on his brother's behalf, and Dust seems just. Out of it. He won't say it's okay, because it's not, but he won't put pressure on Error because it's definitely not the kid's fault. So he settles on a tired laugh and thanking Error for beating up his big brother for him. (Error and Geno are on level playing field. As siblings, as Royal Mages, as partners to their kings. They are evenly matched in almost every way, so Error had the power to stand up for Dust, and Dust appreciates that.)

Amd after that little interaction, Dust actually realizes he's alright. He has people who will look out for him. Who will make sure everything goes smoothly. AND after joking with Error some more? He realizes Geno just. Has weird priorities. Weird ways of showing his affection. Dust decides he won't give Geno a second shot unless he bends and gives up his weird manipulation with Dust.

It takes a few days before Geno is done wallowing and processing, but he comes to find Dust (Reaper right behind him, supposedly to keep him in line) looking like a prideful lil wet cat. He says he's sorry, and that he realizes it was shitty of him, and that he will respect it if Dust wants him and Reaper to stop bothering him.

Dust clarifies and asks if Reaper was being genuine. (He was.) And he asks of Geno would be willing to give being genuine a shot (a hesitant yes). Dust does not push them away, but he does say he is going to inform Night. He also asks them to swear that no matter where the relationship ends, they will not take it out on Nightmare. (They agree.)

Like. Reaper, the romantic who is actually kind and wants to make lasting relationships *before* acting on his desires. Vs. Geno, the guy driven by desires who seems to stumble across romance by mistake every time. Both after Dust, most emotionally bottled skeleton they've ever met? Wild.

Geno is super toxic about his relationships and doesn't even notice in my aus ig. Goofy ahh. He eventually gets his conscience back. But it's. A struggle.

In the other au I have Dust guilt-trip him into being less of an idiot. In this one I make his brother throw him around like a ragdoll. (To Error, violence is often the answer <3)

#new age au #I love these guys I prommy #I just code Geno kinda in the way I'm built (Relationships being a means to an end for him. only getting attached when they become part of #your routine and you realize you wanf them around. which is rare.)#so he's a lil cold #a lil stupid #he does NOT have the spirit #like. might hc him as aro but I don't wanna villainize the label lmao. Geno's just built like that.#he adores Reaper (and later Dust) for sure but like. he's never sure he's ever doing it right. while Reaper and Dust seem so sure #just silly guys lol #(Iconic. i love Error committing sibling violence to knock some sense into his big bro)#alright that's enough! gn!

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voids-colourful-creations · 5 months ago

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Break it Apart, Tear it Down! - A Pearl Houzuki Fic

[Read on Ao3!]

Rated: T Relationships: N/A Splatoon 2, Pre Canon, Pre OTH Content Warnings: Emotional Distress, Self Destructive Behaviour, Mild Coarse Language, Breakdown, No Happy Ending Words: 1.7k

Summary: Pearl’s band kicked her to the curb after yet another venue was destroyed. At the end of the night, the only thing left to return to is the same empty house.

It’s well past “late at night” when Pearl storms into the house, verging more on early morning. Stage attire still plastered against her skin, thick dark makeup smeared far down her face; Pearl slams the door shut and stomps in, heavy boots and all.

Too tired and mad to really think straight, Pearl heads inside. She paces inwards with no particular intent. The day’s been long, effort otherwise exhausting, but she’s too wired to sit still. There’s a buzz in her chest, the residual high from the crowd mixed with the vibrating sting of anger.

Who did they think they were?! Kicking her out of her own band? Please! They were nothing without her. Setting off without her? She’d like to see them try! No one else would ever come anything close to her voice, her sound, her power.

(That was part of the problem, they’d said, another club destroyed and Pearl could only shrug it off. Tired expressions met Pearl’s eyes, shaded by the dim emergency lights, the only lights left in the venue. What was she supposed to say? They’d known she was like this when they’d started.)

Pearl wouldn’t fare much better on her own, either, and she knew it. The acknowledgement only stokes the flames in her chest, in her hair, lighting up with energy. An acapella career was out of the question. She needed a band, and they needed her! Or had, anyway. She was a damn good vocalist and a pretty stellar lyricist, but that was where her talents stopped, despite her best efforts.

Pearl gave the grand piano a pointed glare as she stalked past it.

Useless thing, at least in her hands, no matter how many lessons her parents had her take growing up. She just couldn’t hack it, and the more time she’d spent fruitlessly practising the same scales and bland tunes, the more she grew to hate it.

As she passes, Pearl kicks her leg out, catching her ankle on the piano bench and flinging it across the wide open room. The bench clatters to the ground, a nice slam of a sound as it hits the hardwood.

For a moment, Pearl feels a bit better, if only slightly.

She catches a glance of herself. In the reflection of the house’s giant windows, her pale frame stands out vividly against the darkness. All clouds tonight, no stars, no moon.

It’s really just her face sticking out, her tentacles and fingertips. Her hair crackles like a flame, begging for release. Black clothes blend into the night, only the vague impression of trees somewhere in the yard where Pearl’s body should be. The dark makeup blends too, ringing holes in Pearl’s face instead of eyes.

Pearl glares at nothing, and turns away towards the kitchen. No windows in there.

The distance between rooms feels long and oppressive. Pearl’s never been a fan of just how white the house is, how much glass lined its walls, but certainly not now. There was an ever present feeling of being exposed, no matter how remote this place was. Always being stared at, peered in on, yet all that was inside was sterile, white. Nothing to be seen.

Pearl reaches the kitchen, but it isn’t much of an improvement. If anything, it’s worse.

All of it, the fridge, the cabinets, everything is unbearably ivory, and so shiny she could see her own reflection in it. Nothing but a black and pink stain, all features erased.

She tracks dirt on the tiles— white of course— as she walks between the two kitchen islands and towards the fridge. Pearl throws open the door.

Inside are a few energy drinks, a jar of mayonnaise, and a mostly eaten pizza slice. That’s all. But why would there be anything else? She never eats here, there’s never anyone here to cook for. The band had only ever practised at studios out in the city, a trek all the way out here never worth the effort. Like everything else in this house, the kitchen was mainly just for show.

Pearl slams the fridge door shut, grinding her teeth.

She reaches up to the cabinet doors, the lower sets only barely within her reach. As her fingers curl around the silver handles, Pearl yanks them open as if she’ll find something new inside.

It’s the same as always. Dozens upon dozens of plates, dishes and glassware. All of it entirely unused, as new as the day her mother had given them to her.

Housewarming gifts, she said, like the house itself hadn’t been a “gift”. For the guests, she said.

Guests, she’d said, with that pinched little smile of hers. The same way she smiled when she’d shown off that fucking piano, the house, even.

When Pearl made it clear she was heading out on her own to pursue her music, her mother had given her this house. Something befitting of the family. Massive windows taking up more space than walls. Shades of white on everything, blindingly pristine. A grand piano, sitting in the centre, and Pearl wonders if maybe her mother was trying to tell her something. Never outright, no, but in the ways that lingered, syllables resting idly behind platitudes.

If she’s saying something, then Pearl’s electing to ignore it.

She braces her arms against the counter top, digging her boot into the handle of a lower drawer. With one fluid motion, Pearl heaves herself up onto the counter, knee scraping uncomfortably against the edge of the marble.

Better vantage point of the upper cupboards this way, much too tall for her to reach on her own. She yanks one open, revealing light to a series of glass serving bowls that’d seen only darkness since the day she moved in.

On auto pilot Pearl pulls the largest one out from its shelf. The lip of it ripples like waves, pristine embellishments in the shapes of tiny squids swimming through the edges. She holds it tightly for a moment, feeling the weight of the object in her hand. It sits heavily, large enough to serve a full dozen people, if not more.

Then, with no fanfare, Pearl lets her palms go slack, and watches as the bowl tumbles helplessly out of her grasp. It makes contact with the floor in an instant, spraying shards of glass in every direction across the formerly pristine tile.

And Pearl feels satisfied, for a moment. She always hated that bowl anyway.

Everything hits like a rush, and suddenly she’s reaching for the next bowl. Smaller now, some sort of floral pattern etched into it. She’d never taken the time to really admire it before. When would she have had the chance?

Pearl takes a breath and then screams. Loud and violent, she can feel her throat burning as the sound waves reverberate.

Now there’s nothing but a pile of shards in her hand.

Again, she’s thinking, and now she’s grabbing with intent.

Cuz’ none of this junk matters!

It’s all useless. It doesn’t matter what she tries to drag in of herself, it’s all drowned out by monochrome. It doesn’t matter how many windows she shatters, inevitably everything is reinforced to hell and back. Nothing breaks anymore, not unless Pearl breaks it herself.

And breaks it again. She’ll break the pieces into pieces and the shards into dust. Because it doesn’t matter. This might be her house but no one lives here. No one will miss any of this.

Pearl feels good, snapping the delicate base off a trifle bowl. Now she’s controlling it, she’s not some child who doesn’t know her own strength. She knows it well, intimately by now. How every molecule of her vibrates just wrong, abrasively loud and violent and destructive no matter what she did.

She’s on a roll, the cabinet of fancy bowls is thoroughly destroyed. Onto the next then! The next club, the next band, the next act until something changes.

Pearl smashes every plate she owns. One by one, throwing them to the ground, or against the wall, or snapping them, or just screaming loud and rough and hard, until they crumble in her hand. She screams the most.

Like it’s her fault she looks best in the spotlight.

(A porcelain gravy boat embraces the floor quickly and violently.)

Like she wanted to blow out another club’s speakers.

(Champagne flutes shatter against each other, stems turned to jagged spikes.)

Didn’t they get it? Weren’t they supposed to be the few people who understood?

(The antique teapot is unrecognizable, once painted with ancient jellyfish, now only pieces without a purpose.)

Even with all those people staring at her, hearing her scream and sing.

(There’s so much glass and porcelain on the floor it’s nearly a beach, sand made of shards.)

There’s not one of them who’s really looking at her. Not one.

Pearl hops down off the counter, crushing what little fragments survived with the weight of her boots.

Her band sings behind her— sang, now— but she might as well have always been alone. And no matter what, she swears, Pearl doesn’t care. It’s all the same anyway. A bunch of posers who just wanted to coast off her voice but couldn’t handle the real kick.

They didn’t deserve her to begin with!

...It’s hard for Pearl to believe that, no matter how much she wants to, when she’s practically ankle deep in the shards she’s made.

There is not one piece of unbroken dishware left in the house. The cabinets are entirely empty. Pearl feels worse than ever. Looking down at the shattered remains of plates and bowls, she nudges the broken handle of a teacup with the tip of her boot. Faintly, it clatters against the other pieces. Pearl surveys the carnage, a fortune’s worth of wealth and years lying in wait to be used properly, and she had destroyed all of it in less than an hour.

Finally, with all the weight of her chest, Pearl wails.

Long and hard. Messy and painful and unbearably loud. The windows rattle, and the fridge shakes, and the pieces of glass and porcelain vibrate against each other. But that’s all, no one hears, nothing else breaks. There’s nothing left to break. As her voice gives out, the crackle of her hair dims, and the spark is gone. That’s it.

Just Pearl, the mess she’s made, and a painfully colourless house.

Pearl sighs, scrubbing the smudged make up off her face with the back of her sleeve.

Time to find a broom.

[Ending]

#voids fic #splatoon #pearl houzuki #off the hook #splatoon 2 #splatoon fic #splatoon fanfiction #pearl off the hook #pearl splatoon

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idabbleincrazy · 3 months ago

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Not Whole Without (2/2)

Fandom: Smallville/Dark Knight Trilogy

Rating: E

Pairing: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor/Bruce Wayne

Word Count: 6590

Warnings: pwp, shameless smut, mini-orgy, oral fingering, double oral penetration, double blowjobs, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, deep throating, come swallowing, come eating, come sharing, rimming, anal fingering, anal, spit-roasting, slutty Clark, subby Bruce, top Clark, top Lex, bottom Bruce, bottom Lex, cum-drunk Bruce,

Summary: Trust Lex to know just what they all need.

A/N: wow, I can't believe my first Clex+Bruce fic so very smutty. 😅 Also, I failed to mention it last time, but I picture this Bruce as Christian Bale's Batman from The Dark Knight trilogy. I probably will most times that I write for him.

Squares Filled: "Are we gonna do this, or has this all been a complete waste of time?", Oral fingering or Object Insertion, Sex with a couple/sex with friends/sex with strangers/sex with an ex, Strip tease or DP in one hole, "I've gotten rusty in my abstinence.", Accidental Confession or First Kiss ( @julybreakbingo ) Unsure Kiss, Forming a Triad, Spit-roasting, Non-binary/Polyamorus/Pansexual ( @fandom-free-bingo Pride Edition)

Clark let Lex lead him into their bedroom, the sound of Bruce's heartbeat slowly following behind.

"Lex, are you sure about this?"

Stopping the both of them beside the bed, Lex turned around to face Clark full-on. There was no mistaking how turned on the older man was, his eyes dark and stormy, slacks tented painfully. But, there was still tenderness radiating from his gaze, a gentle understanding at the way Clark was reeling from this turn of events.

"Clark, if you, at any time, don't want this, all you have to do is say so." Lex's gaze flicked over his shoulder, and Clark could hear Bruce's heartbeat looming a few feet behind him, the door closing with an almost silent snick. "He'll leave the moment you ask him to. Or the moment I do."

Clark wanted Bruce to take that last step between them, to reach out and touch him; his arm, the back of his neck. But he knew he wouldn't. Bruce always put too much stock in boundary lines. So, Clark turned instead, Lex's hand still in his, his ballast in this uncharted water. Bruce stood there, barely a foot away, his face hardly different from when he gazed out over his city from beneath his cowl. Except for his eyes.

Those ocean-blue irises and blown pupils spoke of the emotion the man fought to hide; hunger, a need so deep, Clark didn't know how the human didn't buckle under its power. He wanted him, them?, too. More than just the aching desire that bulged between his legs. He wanted to be with them.

"Bruce?"

"I'm sorry, Clark." Bruce's voice, while not quite the rumbling timbre of Batman, was still husky as he finally spoke. "I never should have let myself become so attached to you. It was a bad idea from the start, offering myself as your mentor. But I had to know; needed to see what it was about you that had Lex so enraptured, needed to know why you succeeded where so many have failed. And once I did, how could I not fall?"

Clark felt himself blush; belatedly. Letting Bruce watch Lex go down on him, nothing. Hearing Bruce speak so tenderly, like a freaking beacon. This was the Bruce he rarely got to see, the Bruce that had his heart wrenching in distress as it fought to reconcile his love for Lex with his growing affection for his partner in crime-fighting. Clark stepped closer to Bruce, lifting his free hand to his cheek. Softer than he expected, with a hint of stubble scratching lightly against his palm. He watched Bruce's eyes, looking for any sign of rejection, finding none.

Lex heaved a sigh, his patience worn thin.

"Are we gonna do this, or has this all been a complete waste of time?" He let go of Clark's hand and stepped around him, slipping his tie from around his collar as he maneuvered himself between them, his chest pressing against both of their sides. "Clark, really, you're making this so much more of a production than it needs to be. After six months of learning everything there is to know about Clark Kent, Bruce has inevitably found himself very nearly as much in love with you as I am. And, inadvertently, fell in love with me all over again. You, a man of impeccable taste in men, if not attire, couldn't help but find yourself growing enamored with the enigmatic, brilliant, devilishly handsome man who showed you the ropes of do-gooding and gave you all the helpful advice you could ever seek, even as you tore yourself up about having such feelings for anyone other than me. Even though those feelings never lessened in the company of these new ones. And me, well, you know me, Clark. I don't let just anyone in, and when I do, they're in my heart forever. He wants us, Clark. Both of us. Just let yourself have this. We can work out the details along the way, like we always do."

Clark, his hand still cupping Bruce's cheek, looked over at Lex, gauging his sincerity. It helped that Lex admitted to having feelings for Bruce, too. And there didn't seem to be any trace of a lie in his eyes, eyes that were more open and unguarded than they ever were when he was just trying to get his way. This was more than Lex being horny and looking for a threesome.

Turning back to Bruce, Clark leaned in slowly, encouraged as he saw Bruce's eyes flick down to his encroaching mouth. Hesitantly, he closed the small gap between them, pressing their lips together. And everything just clicked, the rightness of it all. The press of Lex's body along his side, his hand resting against the small of his back, Bruce's mouth beneath his, warm and unexpectedly pliant, his hand coming up to cup the back of his head. As Bruce's lips parted for his inquisitive tongue, Clark thought maybe, just maybe, this could actually work. And that was the last thought on the subject he was going to allow himself for the night as the taste of Bruce, of whiskey and cool night air, burst on his tastebuds.

All too soon, Lex tugged at his jaw, and wasn't it a testament to how lost in the kiss he was that Lex hadn't hurt himself with the action, pulled him to his own mouth, lips crushing to his in a bruising, fleeting kiss. A swipe of his tongue over Clark's lips and a growl of hunger, and then he released Clark's chin, turning to Bruce and pulling him into a devouring kiss. Panting, Clark watched the two billionaires, his cock giving a painful throb of reminder.

Bruce came to life under Lex's mouth, teeth nipping at Lex's lip. Apparently, the brunette had been coiled tight, allowing Clark to lead, take those first tentative steps; now he'd snapped, his free arm wrapping around Lex's waist and crushing the bald man to him, his other hand still carding through Clark's hair, possibly tugging harshly at the strands ineffectively, as his tongue delved into Lex's gasping mouth. God, they were beautiful together. Clark could come just watching them, and if he and Lex had looked anything like that, Bruce had more self-control than he realized.

He watches them struggle for control of the kiss, neither one gaining the upper hand for more than a few seconds. Bruce's hand is no longer in his hair, instead joining the other in his mad scrabble to relieve Lex of his suit. Lex's jacket is stripped off his shoulders, tossed carelessly to the floor. Buttons ping as Bruce rips his lilac shirt open, revealing a pale, hairless chest.

"You're paying for that", Lex growls through the panting breaths he's taking, pushing Bruce back towards the wall beside the bed. "Christ, Bruce…bastard!"

"Name calling will get you nowhere, Luthor." Bruce is smiling at Lex smugly, his voice pitched to Batman.

Lex snarls at him and redirects his attention back to Clark, pulling him into a kiss no less devouring, albeit less violent, than the one he'd just shared with Bruce.

"Get naked, Clark, while I ready Bruce for his welcome into our bed."

Clark nodded dumbly, loosening his tie at human speed as Lex stalked back to where Bruce stood, shedding his ruined shirt along the way.

Lex stepped up to Bruce and began working the buttons of his crisp white button down, taking the care Bruce hadn't bothered with.

"You left me." Lex's voice was dangerous, and Clark caught Bruce's face soften at the sound of it, his eyes reflecting regret. "You told me you loved me, and then you left me."

Bruce let Lex finish removing his shirt, then caught his wrists tightly, tugging the slimmer man flush against him.

"I had to, Lex. God, I never wanted to leave you, but I needed to get away from Gotham, from the life that was set before me by my parents. I'm sorry I left you to Lionel's tender mercies, but you were too young. I couldn't legally take you with me. And now, I'm glad I left you behind."

"What?"

Bruce brushed a soft kiss across Lex's mouth and turned him around to face Clark, who had stripped out of his shirt and was working on his pants, the button popped, boxers visible where the placket gaped open as his hands stilled momentarily.

"Look what you found while I was away. Clark protected you in a way I never could." Bruce grazed his lips against the sensitive skin behind Lex's ear as he spoke, and Clark watched the shudder run through Lex's slim, pale body. Bruce's eyes caught Clark's, and he let one hand drift down Lex's bare chest to slip beneath his trousers, eliciting a gasp when his fingers wrapped around the solid flesh. "If you had come with me, you never would have fallen in love with him; and neither would I. We would've been missing him, without even being able to understand why we felt that way."

Clark continues undressing as the two older men watch, pushing pants and boxers down his legs and stepping out of the puddle of fabric at his feet. His cock is hard and leaking and curved up to his stomach, and he lets a hand drift down to stroke himself, needing to keep his mind free of the thoughts he promised himself he wouldn't allow to intrude on this night of passion.

"Fuck, Lex", Bruce groans in Lex's ear, the hand down his pants rubbing teasingly along the hard shaft it's holding. "He's so beautiful. Just like you. Watching the two of you out there, that was the hottest thing I've seen in years. I could almost feel you, when your mouth was around him; I remember how perfect your mouth always was."

"Not as good as his, Bruce, trust me. It's like he was made for it. Almost impossible to make him gag, and he can hold his breath for so fucking long."

"Well, we'll just have to put that to the test, won't we?" Clark watched Bruce's arm flex, his hidden hand eliciting a drawn-out groan from Lex. "Now, weren't we supposed to be holding off on all the emotional parts for later?"

"Yeah, well, you know me, Bruce. I rarely take my own advice. But don't worry, we're back on track now." And with that, Lex forced himself to pull away from Bruce's grasp, walking the few steps to where Clark stood. "Wanna see if you can take us both, Clark? See if that sweet mouth can stretch wide enough to fit two cocks?"

Clark groaned at the thought of that, and nodded, squeezing his hand around the base of his cock to hold back the sudden urge to come. Lex grinned and pulled him into a quick and dirty kiss. Releasing Clark, he swiftly undid his slacks, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side.

Bruce stepped up beside Lex, fully naked now, and Clark spared a second to lament missing the slow reveal of the thick, hard cock that jutted out from his groin. Lex lifted his hand and pressed two fingers to Clark's lips, pushing forward as he opened his mouth for them.

"Bruce, want a preview?" Lex raised an eyebrow and gestured between Bruce's hand and Clark's mouth. Bruce took the hint and slid his own fore and middle finger into Clark's mouth beside Lex's. "Suck them, Clark. Show Bruce how it's going to feel when you're wrapped around our dicks."

Clark obeyed readily, taking the four digits in as deep as he could, suckling them without a care for the noise he made. He felt Lex stretch his fingers out towards his cheek, the nails brushing against the back of his throat, almost tickling. Bruce groaned as Clark hollowed his cheeks, suctioning around the digits pressing against his tongue, thrusting his gently deeper, testing Clark.

"Jesus, Lex, you weren't kidding."

"Uh huh. Add another. Let him get used to the stretch a bit."

Bruce pulled his fingers back, adding his ring finger on the next slide in. Clark gagged a little at the added girth, but quickly managed to adjust, sucking just as eagerly at the new addition. He lapped his tongue over whatever flesh he could reach, his mind filling with images of both mens cocks taking the place of the spit-slick digits. His cock throbbed and he let out a pleading whine.

Lex took pity and removed his fingers, nudging Bruce to do the same when the brunette continued to finger the shiny mouth.

"Kneel for us, baby."

Clark dropped to his knees and didn't bother waiting for Lex's next instruction, immediately flicking his tongue out over the leaking head of Lex's cock. Lex moaned at the light touch and angled himself against Clark's side to be able to slide his cock into the wet heat of his mouth and leave room for Bruce to do the same. Bruce mirrored his stance on the other side, a loud, guttural sound falling from his mouth as he eased his cock in beside Lex's.

Clark let his eyes fall closed as two hands gripped at his hair, moving into their guidance so they wouldn't hurt themselves trying. The feeling of two thick cocks pushing deep into his slackened mouth, of two fat cockheads pressing against the back of his throat, had his arousal surging, and he thrust his own neglected cock into the empty air, struggling not to touch himself. If he did, he would come, and he wasn't exactly sure he wouldn't inflict some serious damage on both men if he lost control of his muscles.

"God, Clark. You're amazing." Bruce was panting above him; Clark could hear his heart hammering in his chest as he thrust deeper into the tightness of his throat. He thrilled at knowing he was able to generate such a reaction from the normally reserved man. "Such a beautiful cocksucker. Fuck, Lex, how do you ever get anything done, knowing you can have this any time you want?"

"It's a hardship, I know. Next time, I'll let you have the full experience." Lex guided Clark's mouth all the way down their girthy shafts, his free hand coming to soothe Clark's throat as he struggled to relax his gag reflex. "How's your stamina these days, Bruce? If you're one and done, pull out now, 'cause I want you hard when we fuck you."

Clark felt Bruce shudder, a spurt of pre-come sliding down his throat.

"I can go as many times as you need me, Lex. Trust me, after six months of restraint, there's plenty in my reserves."

Clark forced his eyes open as he felt both cocks thicken further, and pulled back along their throbbing lengths, wanting to see and taste them as they came. He had timed it perfectly, just as he had the tips of both cocks pressed against his tongue, Bruce stiffened beside him, a drawn-out growl falling from his lips as his orgasm hit him. Lex thrust his cock into the cum coating Clark's tongue, leaning towards Bruce to mouth at his neck and cry out his own release. Clark felt his own aching cock spurt at the taste of their combined spend, and forced himself to keep his jaw slack as he came.

As their climaxes ended and Clark regained his control, he cleaned away every trace of cum from their still-hard cocks, suckling the head of each in turn as he released them. Licking his lips as he looked up at them from beneath his lashes and unruly bangs, he was surprised to find himself pulled up to his feet by Bruce and drawn into a hungry kiss.

Bruce groaned at the taste of himself and Lex on Clark's tongue as he suckled the wet muscle. He had to admit, the mix was a heady one, and further proof that the three of them made the perfect combination. His hand slid from where it was gripping Clark's bicep, down his chest into the rivulets of Clark's own release. Trailing his fingers through the sticky drops, he gathered up a good glob of it and raised it to their joined mouths. The addition of Clark's cum to the traces of his and Lex's, had Bruce amending his previous sentiment; this was the perfect combination.

Reaching out his free hand, he sought out Lex, pulling him into the kiss, both him and Clark turning their heads to awkwardly lap at his mouth, bringing more of Clark's spend up for Lex to lick away from both their lips.

Unable to wait any more, Bruce broke the three-way kiss and pushed Clark backwards onto the bed, thankful for Lex's need to over-indulge with certain things. Climbing up after him, Bruce settled between Clark's spread legs, leaning over him to lap up the sticky remnants of his cum from his abdomen. Clark was still hard, even after two orgasms, the thick length shiny with trails of spend, and Bruce trailed his mouth down to the ruddy appendage. He felt the bed dip, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Lex bending over Clark to whisper something in his ear before capturing his mouth, muffling the moan Bruce caused as he slid his tongue teasingly over the plummy head of his cock.

Cleaning away the last traces of cum, Bruce sat up, watching the pair kiss, Lex's hands braced against the mattress either side of Clark's head as one of Clark's giant hands cupped the back of Lex's neck, the other dipping down between Lex's legs to play and tease. With his cock eager to get to his promised fucking, Bruce interrupted them.

"As much as I enjoy watching the two of you, Lex, I remember you saying something about the two of you fucking me?"

Both heads whipped towards him, their eyes exuding hunger he was sure was reflected by his own gaze. Lex pulled away and shuffled around on the overly large bed as Clark stood back up. Lex tugged Bruce to the center of the mattress, urging him onto his hands and knees.

"I'm going to take your mouth, Bruce, and Clark's going to take your ass." Bruce couldn't hold back the shudder of arousal at that, the thought of being speared between the two of them testing his control. "Tell me, though, for prep, would you prefer familiar, or new?"

Much as he had always loved the way Lex opened him up the few times he had bottomed for him, Bruce couldn't pass up the opportunity to feel Clark's fingers stretching him.

"New." He looked up at Lex, and knew he hadn't offended him with his decision. There would be time for all permutations of their coupling, and none of them would ever intentionally make one of the others feel left out.

Lex smirked and looked over Bruce's shoulder.

"Clark…"

The bed dipped behind Bruce and he felt Clark's weight settle between his legs, his hands gripping his thighs and spreading them wider. Bruce hummed softly as he felt Clark's hands slide up his thighs to cup the globes of his ass, spreading the cheeks apart. He hadn't felt this vulnerable in so long, even longer since he felt so completely safe at the same time.

"How long has it been, Bruce?" Lex's smile had softened slightly as he watched Bruce's reactions.

"Years. Not…I haven't bottomed since you."

"We'll have to get you nice and stretched, then, won't we?" Bruce groaned as Lex's words were accompanied by the first brush of Clark's finger over his puckered hole. "You'll enjoy this, Bruce; I know I always do."

When the finger moved away, Bruce expected the tell-tale sound of a bottle opening; it never came. Instead, Clark shifted between his legs, and he let out a loud yelp as Clark's tongue swiped over the furled ring of muscle. Lex chuckled and bent down to kiss him, his tongue delving into Bruce's mouth to smother his moan as he let his eyes flutter shut. He had never thought Clark would rim him without some serious begging and convincing. For him to do so unbidden, on their first night together, showed him that Clark really was more like himself and Lex than he had realized.

Bruce was breathless when Lex broke the kiss, Clark's tongue swirling over his hole sloppily and noisily. His cock throbbed between his legs, his earlier climax barely making a difference with the way the two men were driving him wild. He knew Clark could hear how fast his heart was thumping, hell, he could probably smell how hot for it he was.

Lex watched as Clark rimmed Bruce, his cock aching in remembrance of his own experiences of that sinful tongue slowly working him open.

"Christ, Clark. I never realized how hot you look like this. You are never eating my ass from behind again if you look anything like this." Clark moaned from between Bruce's spread cheeks, the action drawing a similar response from the older man beneath him. "On my back, from now on, so I can watch you getting me all wet and stretched for you. Fuck, I'm going to suck your cock, Clark."

Bruce forced his eyes open as he felt Lex moving around, twisting his head over his shoulder to watch the lithe man lay down on his back under Clark. A rumbling vibration against his asshole alerted him to the moment Lex had taken Clark's cock into his mouth, and he pushed back against Clark's slick mouth, needing more.

"Clark, please. Fuck, feel so good; need you in me."

Clark obliged, his tongue stiffening to prod into Bruce's loosening hole. Between the dark taste of Bruce on his tongue and the feel of Lex's warm mouth around his cock, he knew he would come again before he finished preparing the brunette that writhed beneath him.

Lex took as much of Clark's cock down his throat as he could manage, his tongue laving along the girthy shaft. Stretching out a hand, he wrapped his fingers around Bruce's hard length, stroking it in time to Clark's thrusts into his mouth.

"Oh, God, Lex! You are evil, after all. Fuck, tighter, Lex." Bruce thrust his hips, pushing into the tight grip of Lex's hand, and back onto Clark exploring tongue. He cried out in pleasure as he felt Clark easing a finger into him beside his tongue, the thick digit tugging at his rim. "Shit! Yeah, Clark, like that. More. Want you, Clark."

Clark felt his third orgasm surging fast despite his previous releases as he slid another finger into Bruce, stretching them out to flick his tongue deeper into the warm passage. Lex was swallowing around him, his muffled grunts vibrating along his shaft, and he could hear the slick sounds of skin on skin as Lex jerked himself and Bruce off. Scraping his teeth over the edge of Bruce's rim, he felt him stiffen suddenly, his hole spasming around him as the older brunette came with a shout. Pulling away with one last noisy lick of his tongue, Clark focused on fucking the mouth that still worked his cock.

"Jesus, fuck, Clark! Lex! Want you."

Bruce rode out his climax on Clark's fingers, a particularly large spurt of cum bursting forth as he thrust back on the thick digits, feeling the tips prodding against his prostate. Clark continued stretching him as he sought his own release down Lex's throat, the bed shaking from their efforts.

Lex let go of Bruce's sticky cock, his cum-slick hand immediately pulled up to Clark's mouth, his other hand speeding along his aching shaft as he felt Clark's tongue laving away Bruce's spend. Between the sounds of Bruce fucking himself on Clark's fingers, the feel of Clark's thickening cock stretching his throat, and Clark's wet tongue licking between his fingers, Lex let his climax wash over him, his screaming of pleasure muffled by Clark's thrusting length.

A light spatter of cum landed on Clark's lower back as Lex came, and Clark stilled above the two mortal men, cock and fingers buried deeply in mouth and ass as his own orgasm was triggered by the tightening of Lex's throat around him.

"Oh, God! Lex…Bruce…so fucking good. So perfect. Love your mouth, Lex." Clark babbled as he came down Lex's swallowing throat, this orgasm more intense than the last. "And, God, Bruce, your ass…so fucking sweet, so tight. Lex and I are going to be fighting over who gets to work you open every time we fuck."

Lex let his released hand slide over Clark's chest as he rode out his release, fingers pinching taut nipples, relishing the slide of thick cum down his throat. Finally, as his and Clark's climaxes subsided, Clark easing his cock from Lex's abused throat. Lex squirmed out from beneath him, licking up his own cum from Clark's backside as he kneeled up on the bed.

"Goddamn, I love your cock, Clark." Lex scooped up the bottle of lube he had set aside, handing it to Clark as he clambered up the bed to kneel in front of Bruce. Leaning down, he kissed Bruce soundly, sharing the lingering taste of their Kryptonian partner. "And, trust me, Bruce, so will you. Still up for another round?"

"I'm insulted you think you even have to ask, Lex. Believe me, if his cock feels anywhere as good as his fingers, I'm not waiting."

Bruce moaned in remorse as he felt Clark's fingers slip out of him, but the sound of a bottle snicking open behind him sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. With Clark unable to contract human diseases, and Lex's mutated healing, Bruce knew condoms would never be an issue, and he didn't think he'd want Clark fucking him any other way than bareback. He felt Clark reach beneath him, slick fingers stroking his cock back to full hardness in a matter of seconds. Lex, himself, was only half-hard, and Bruce couldn't wait to feel that long, slim cock growing thicker along his tongue.

"Gonna fuck you so hard." Clark's voice was it's Superman rumble, confident and commanding, as he leaned over and pressed heated kisses along Bruce's back. Bruce could feel the thick shaft of his cock rubbing between his cheeks, and his cock twitched hard. "Six months, Bruce, six months of imagining this, thinking I could never have it. Ask Lex how explosive it was when we finally came together."

"God, I thought we were going to bring the mansion crumbling down around us." Lex leered down at Bruce. "I felt him for days, he fucked me so good."

"Jesus. Clark, stop teasing. In me, now." Bruce let his voice growl, urgency driving him to the animal side of himself he reigned in so tightly. "Take me, both of you."

Clark groaned and slicked his cock quickly, notching the head at Bruce's relaxed pucker, watching Lex. As Lex pressed his own cock past Bruce's lips, Clark thrust slowly forward, the two of them skewering their new lover simultaneously. The head of his cock popped past the first ring of muscle, and Clark fought not to thrust completely into the tight heat of Bruce's ass. Bruce groaned around Lex's cock, pushing back against Clark's piercing cock despite the burn of the stretch.

Lex pulled his cock out briefly as Bruce strove to take all of Clark's long, thick cock, wondering if his face looked so blissed out every time Clark fucked him. When he saw that Bruce's ass was flush against Clark's groin, Clark's hands soothing along Bruce's sides as the older man adjusted to the girth, Lex thrust his cock back into Bruce's mouth, sliding the length slowly down until Bruce's nose was buried in the sparse auburn curls around his base. God, he'd missed this mouth; no less perfect than Clark's and uniquely sublime in a completely different way than his Kryptonian lover's.

Pulling out halfway, Clark thrust back in, angling his cock to rub over Bruce's prostate, his enhanced vision tuning in to guide the way.

"Fuck, Bruce. Your ass is so fucking amazing. So tight and hot." Clark's hands slid down Bruce's back to grip tightly at his hips, shifting him between himself and Lex to start a rocking rhythm. "Gonna tie both of you down one night, just take turns fucking each of you 'till you can't even sit down at a board meeting without thinking of my cock filling you up. Christ, how did either of you ever get anything done? Lex, can you manage another after you come in his mouth? I wanna fuck you, too."

Lex groaned loudly and thrust deeper into Bruce's lax throat, somewhat surprised by just how horny Clark was tonight.

"Jesus Christ, I can sure as hell try, Clark. God, even if I don't come, I'm not saying no to having your dick split me open." Lex heard Bruce grunt around his cock and looked down, thrilled at the way their conversation was clearly driving him crazy. He cupped Bruce's cheek, drawing his gaze up to his smirking face. "Maybe I'll even slide my cock into Bruce's dripping hole while you do. Let you fuck me into him, your cum easing the way."

Bruce shuddered, a full body convulsion, and came. He felt his face heat slightly in shame at his total loss of control, but he couldn't stop the sudden orgasm that rocketed through him, huge spurts of cum soaking the already damp comforter.

Clark growled as Bruce clamped down around him, the already tight passage now squeezing him enough that it would have been painful for a human. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fought not to immediately follow Bruce into orgasm as the brunette writhed and shook in his grip.

"Guess you liked that idea, eh, Brucie? Made you pop like a pricked balloon. And still so good about the teeth, even in the throes of pleasure."

Lex slipped his fingers through Bruce's hair, tugging him along the shaft of his throbbing cock, eager to come. The thought of him and Clark filling Bruce's mouth and ass with their spend had him hard as a rock. These two men were proving to be better aphrodisiacs than anything he'd ever happened across. Feeling the head of his cock slip down into Bruce's throat, Lex let his head fall back on his shoulders and thrust his hips in aborted movements, fucking the tight passage with abandon as his climax coursed through him.

Bruce gulped the sticky fluid eagerly, still reeling from his own release, the constant pressure of Clark's cick against his prostate keeping his own erection from flagging. He licked up along the shaft as Lex withdrew, heady from the taste and the rapid-succession orgasms. He felt almost high, euphoric like that really good batch of X Lex had cooked up for fun that one summer. After six months of forgoing even masturbating - a deluded attempt to abate all thoughts of Clark beyond the professional - and years since he'd been on the receiving end of any kind of sex outside of a quick, perfunctory blowjob, his hormones were going a little berserk.

"God, Bruce, didn't know you were such a slut for cock, coming at just the thought of Lex fucking you while you're still full of my cum. You're just full of surprises, aren't you, baby?"

Clark rode Bruce's ass harder, chasing his own release now, desperate for it, some Kryptonian instinct driving him to claim this new addition to their bed, just as he had needed to claim Lex their first time. He felt his cock twitch hard, thickening further inside the clutching hole, and roared out his need as he came. Ropes of cum jettisoned from his pulsing cock, filling Bruce so quickly that he could feel it seep out around his cock after the first few spurts. He wondered if Bruce would let them plug him after Lex fucked him? The thought of keeping Bruce stretched and ready for them, slick with their seed and his belly bulging from the excessive fluid, triggered another load of cum, and he thanked his alien physiology that he couldn't have an aneurysm from overexertion.

As his climax finally receded, Clark eased his cock slowly from Bruce's reddened, leaking hole, reluctant to leave the tight ass that had given him so much pleasure, but eager to sink himself into Lex. He knew there was always great pleasure to be had there, as well. By the way Bruce's weight sagged in his grip, he knew he was the only thing keeping the nearly spent human from collapsing to the mattress in a limp sprawl.

"Jesus, Clark. I knew you'd be good at that, but that was beyond anything I could have imagined."

Lex chuckled at Bruce's slurred voice, knowing his once-ex was officially cum-drunk. He quickly maneuvered Bruce up the bed so that he lay on his side, facing him, his head cushioned on one of the plush pillows. He laid out beside him, leaning in to kiss him languidly as he felt Clark spoon up beside him. One more round, and they would no doubt fall asleep just like this, covered in each other's sweat, saliva, and semen. Lex would grumble when he woke up sticky, but he knew Clark would kiss away any complaints and swiftly remind him why it was a good idea at the time.

"God, you're still so beautiful when you come, Bruce. Though I hadn't realized you'd become a hair-trigger."

"I've gotten rusty in my abstinence. I can't believe I came so quick, without even being touched. Your sailor mouth I'm used to," Bruce flashed Lex a pointed look, before casting his gaze over Lex's shoulder, "but hearing you talk like that, Clark, I couldn't hold back."

"I liked it. I like knowing that you're so hot for me, for Lex, that you can't help yourself. Lex knows." Clark bit lightly at Lex's neck, eliciting a deep groan.

"Oh, yeah. Our boy gets extra hot knowing he can turn me into a puddle of goo with just a well-placed suggestion, or a teasing touch. That shy, reserved farm-boy-turned-reporter doesn't exist when it comes to sex. Now, you gonna fuck me, Clark, or am I going to have to fuck Bruce with my own strength?"

Clark barked a laugh and reached for the lube he'd set between them. He poured the slightest amount of lube onto Lex's cock, knowing Bruce was plenty stretched and wet. Slicking up his fingers, he slid his hand down between Lex's firm cheeks, finding his tight hole practiced ease. Lex let out a whine of pleasure as Clark rubbed a finger around his rim, slipping the digit in slowly as the furl loosened.

As Clark worked him open, Lex gripped Bruce's outer thigh, tugging him closer so that Lex was slotted between his legs. He draped the leg over his and Clark's hips, leaving the older man spread open. Thrusting back onto Clark's questing fingers, his cock slid down between Bruce's legs, behind his nearly depleted sac, to nestle into the opening of his twitching hole. Lex could feel Clark's cum dripping from the used hole, and he moaned at the slick warmth that trickled down his shaft. He was tempted to thrust himself into the brunette to the hilt, but knew he wouldn't have to wait long for Clark's invading cock to push him into Bruce.

As if he'd suddenly gained telepathy, Clark removed his fingers, quickly replacing them with his cock. Lex let his head fall back against Clark's shoulder with a loud groan as he was filled completely in a single thrust. It hurt, but in the best way, his cock twitching where it was held in place against Bruce's stretched rim. Another groan was ripped from his throat as Clark pushed him into Bruce, the wet, tight heat surrounding his cock like a vise in this position.

Bruce keened, the sudden thrust of Lex's cock into him making him clutch at Lex's shoulder, his leg clenching against the swell of Clark's ass. Lex flung an arm back to grip at Clark, his other hand tangling in Bruce's hair to pull him into a desperate kiss. He really didn't know if he could manage to come again, but his cock was giving a valiant effort, throbbing back to life inside the tight passage, his prostate pummeled with each quick thrust of Clark's hips. Sounds of flesh slapping sweatily against flesh, of Clark's grunts and Bruce's muffled moans, spurred him on.

"This is…fucking…incredible," Clark panted in Lex's ear, teeth scraping against his neck. "Next time, I want you in my ass like this, Lex, fucking me into Bruce. Jesus, not gonna last. Too good."

Lex agreed, the feeling of Bruce wrapped around his cock, driving into his clenching passage while surrounded in Clark's cum, the steady thrust of Clark's huge cock into his own twitching hole, was just too much to keep control over the amazing fourth orgasm he felt rushing up his spine. With the way Bruce clutched at them both as Lex kissed him sloppily, told him they were all in sync on the subject.

Burying his face in the crook of Lex's shoulder, his hand reaching out to clutch the other two to him, Clark jackrabbited his hips in a succession of bruising thrusts as he gave in to his need for release. As he poured whatever was left of his seemingly endless supply of cum into Lex, he felt Bruce and Lex stiffen in his embrace, both men moaning out the orgasms he'd wrung from their overstimulated bodies.

Bruce went limp in Lex's and Clark's grasps, unused to the onslaught of sensations coursing through him after so long. He whited out for a few seconds, his cock still spurting trickles of cum onto his and Lex's chests when he came back to consciousness. He could feel Lex's cock still pulsing inside him, and he was amazed at how much the mutated, but still essentially human, man could come in such a short time span. He definitely had his work cut out for him with these two.

Lex felt like he was floating, his whole body felt weightless, like if Clark and Bruce unwound themselves from him, he would drift up into the atmosphere. He'd had some spectacular sex with both these men, separately. Together, it was beyond his ken. His cock surged in Bruce's spasming hole, his cum mingling with Clark's, coating the passage and his shaft in the sticky substance. His ass throbbed deliciously as Clark's orgasm petered out and the Kryptonian eased carefully out of his twitching hole.

As he'd suspected, Lex felt Clark use his speed to pull the covers from underneath his and Bruce's lax and sated bodies, slipping back in behind him before draping the sheets back over them. Lazy kisses were shared between the three of them, lips pressing to whatever skin could be reached. As Lex let his eyes droop closed, he heard Bruce's soft snores issuing from in front of him, and felt the gentle sweep of Clark's fingers over heated skin at his back. Enveloped so snuggly between past, present, and future, Lex let himself drift off to sleep, a sated smile on his face. He loved it when a plan succeeded without a hitch.

~~~~~~~~

@leatafandom

#Smallville #smallville fanfic #clex #clex fanfic #lemon #jbbingo2024 #ffb pride edition

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ghostieagere · 11 months ago

Note

do you have any headcanons about how the little ghouls deal with being sad?

oooo this is a tricky one, anon !!! (/pos) i have lots and lots of thoughts about this and how each of the littles deal with different types of sadness, but for the sake post-length (and keeping everything fairly light-hearted) i'll just stick with a few headcanons <3

under the cut for length !

rain cries a lot. they can't really help it, it's part of their water ghoul nature, but that doesn't mean it's ever very fun :( they also tend to get muddled up between their languages, so their caregivers know to prepare themselves for english or french to come out of little rainy's mouth when they're upset. but yes, when they're sad, they know they need to go and find a caregiver (if they're not with one already) and ask for a sippy cup of water, a little snack, and a lot of cuddles. and that usually helps them feel a bit less sad, depending on what made them upset in the first place

dew is a bit of a tricky one for me to pin down :0 i don't think he's much of a crier, but he does get a bit whiny if he's upset. being sad or upset also usually makes him quite overtired, so his caregivers know that a quick nap is usually enough to get him feeling a little bit better, and at that point (if he's big enough) he can do his best to explain what's happened that made him sad. he does also throw the occasional tantrum if he's feeling overwhelmed by all his emotions, but a teether to chew on, something else to fidget with and a cuddle in steady arms can help him calm down again and bring him a bit further away from the sads

aeon tends to have meltdowns when they're feeling sad. their emotions get a bit too much for them to handle and the only options when they're small is to shut off or go into overdrive. whoever's with them in that moment will try and get rid of anything that might be causing aeon distress (whether that's other people in the room, or clothing that they're trying to pull off because it feels bad against their skin). the caregiver will try and wrap aeon in their arms to keep them safe from their own flailing arms. this usually helps calm them down more quickly because the grounding feeling of being surrounded by a comforting presence can usually be something good for aeon to focus on

mountain hides when he's upset. even when he's regressed, he still has the belief that he's not supposed to be sad or upset, so he hides himself away in teeny tiny cubby holes until someone comes and finds him. once he's found, he'll be reassured that he's not a burden for being upset, that everyone gets upset, and mountain is allowed to ask for help if he wants or needs it. after this reminder, he usually asks for a drink (apple juice) and/or a snack (cut up peaches) with sign language because being upset can often make him lose his words, but once he's with his caregiver and he's got something in his tummy, he usually starts feeling a lot better

aurora doesn't tend to have many big, bad emotions when she's regressed, so if she's sad it's usually because she's fallen down and scraped her knee or if she's not feeling very well. if she's scraped her knee, by the time she's got a hello kitty bandaid on it and cumulus has pressed a soft, healing kiss over the bandaid, aurora is usually ready to go out and play again, all sadness gone. but if she's sick, she'll stay feeling sad and not very good until she's all better. when she's sick though, her caregivers are always ready to provide her with hugs, bedtime stories and warm soup galore !!

#ask box #ghostie speaks #ghostie headcanons #regressed ghouls #regressed ghoul headcanons #nameless ghouls

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sicklyseraphnsuch · 2 years ago

Text

Simon Sleeps AU Overview

Marcy leaves Simon because she was afraid that her new vampiric state would harm whatever was left human in Simon. Also, she really is awfully angry at Simon for leaving her the first time.

Simon understands that he has Made a Mistake in leaving Marceline the way he did. Good intentions aside, he knows that he hurt her terribly. But hey, if he already left once before, and aiming to leave permanently. Then leaving again temporarily is a decent compromise. He can't look out for Marcy 24/7 like he used to. But this way, if he sleeps, he can keep his mind for longer. He can stay as Simon longer. And maybe, just maybe, he can buy himself enough time to figure out a permanent solution.

He carves a note in his hibernation station to Marcy. It has instructions to wake him up so if ever she needs him, he can be there for her.

Of course, Marcy is not who wakes him up. Fast forward a century or so. Marcy is still out doing whatever it is she after becoming a vampire. A little penguin stumbles into Simon's hideyhole, seeking shelter. It wakes up Simon who stays awake long enough to expand his hidey hole and give the little penguin a place to live out. In exchange, he hopes that the penguin could maybe collect some trinkets or curios that it could find for him.

When the Crown's whispers start getting too loud again, Simon freezes himself into slumber.

Fast forward however many years.

The next one to wake Simon is an odd creature hithertofor unknown to him. She looks like a person made of gum. She followed a penguin when it tried to steal some curios out of her scavenging bag.

Simon stays awake again, a little longer this time, to give this little bubblegum girl some company. They start organizing the loot that Gunther, the penguin, collected for Simon in his long sleep. She gets a fascinating look into the Pre-War world and also some company.

Simon catches himself calling her Marcy, and each time he does, he goes to sleep for a month. But his plan works out in that he is successfully prolonging his lucidity (much much longer than he ever did in canon). During one of his awake periods, Marcy comes back to find:

Simon literally did not move from where she left him and it was literally centuries ago

There's a new kid on the block and Simon is doting over her

In true Batman gets a new Robin fashion, Marcy gets angry at Simon and Bubblegum. She unceremoniously tells Bubblegum to go away before she really lets Simon have it. The emotional turmoil this inspires in Simon causes him to freeze humself before the Crown could take advantage.

At this point, a hurt Bubblegum decided that if Marcy was gonna be a total tranch, then she was gonna make her own family.

Meanwhile, Marcy feels too guilty about blowing up at Simon that he lets him sleep for awhile. Also, she's still not over him "replacing" her and leaves again.

But this begins the cycle of Simon sleeping and waking up, now with Marcy and Bonnie to do so. At some point, they figure out a way to do it more regularly than "something happened and I could really use a friend" when they distress call Simon into waking. But this takes centuries to hash out.

Marcy and Bonnie through Simon have a contentious relationship. But repeated exposure to each other via their common friend lets them get to know each other like that. They end up dating. They still break up.

As magic begins to really establish itself in the new Ooo, they wake Simon up more to do little bursts of research together. Simon builds himself a psuedo home that's a cross between his school office, his classroom, and a his apartment. He believes that surrounding himself in familiar sights delays the Crown's advance for a little while.

(Some days, he less lucid moments gets him believing that he's still at his university, teaching classes. Bonnie takes these pretend classes either as a student or a teaching assistant. But when Simon starts to call her Betty, she stops and ropes a few of her candy people to attend in her place. If it helps Simon...)

(They tried introducing Simon to princesses once. Once. Ever since, they know to keep Simon's circle small. And even so, they sometimes invite a few friends to Simon's lectures because a new, non-princess face keeps his mind fresh)

Eventually, a little human boy learns about Simon's lectures through PB. Simon isn't known as the Ice King, despite the Crown on his head. In this world, he's known simply as Professor Petrikov.

#simon petrikov #marceline #adventure time #marceline the vampire queen #princess bubblegum

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oddballwriter · 2 years ago

Note

can we get something about Tim being comforted by his partner? we all know he needs it sometimes :(♡ just lots of fluff and anything you'd like to add! thank you, no rush and take your time; mwah!

More Important Than Anything

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: Tim goes through a lot and sometimes he can't handle it. So he always tends to come to you for a sense of comfort and stability. Being his rock is a lot too sometimes, but to you, it's worth it.

Warnings: mentions of distress, injuries that happened in canon, yelling and shouting, behaviors that imply being moments from a panic attack, and the mention of punching a hole in a wall. Spoilers for entry 59.

Author’s Snip: I loved this request sooooo much. Also sorry for not writing, I haven't been in a writing mood recently. Also this is mostly hurt comfort but there's some fluff to it a bit.

Notes: This takes place right after Jay and Tim's fight in entry 59 and also mentions the part where Alex breaks _____'s knee in a previous entry, which currently evades me rn. Cencoring because of spoilers even though I'm sure you all have seen the entire series at this point.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy!

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You would never call your boyfriend a handful. You would never call him something taxing. You would have something strike you dead if you ever even whispered it to yourself. Tim was a man with his own 'issues' that he's been dealt to live with, and you would never use that as a way to shame him.

But when he goes missing for days without any sign where he is or what he was doing, you'd get worried sick. You knew he was a very private man, but you had faith that if he ever ran off he'd either tell you or ask you to come with. Your fright only got worse when he showed up at your door step after having been gone for weeks with a busted knee and crutches, looking like he saw the gates of hell. You didn't ask any questions and just rushed him inside, and even when you did ask he said he just woke up in his car like that.

You didn't talk much about that day after that. You just let him stay with you till he felt like he was over staying his welcome. Which he wasn't, you would have let him stay till he was completely okay.

But whenever he did leave, you worried about him coming back to you in an even worse state. That's why when you heard a knock at your door in the dead of night you had that vision loom over you till you opened it.

It was in fact Tim, thankfully not physically beaten, but he looked very distressed. Something he used to do when his condition was at it's worse and he needed someone to be there to ground him and make sure he didn't hurt himself. But this was different. He just looked genuinely upset about something. You moved aside to let him in which he quickly did without saying a word.

"Is everything okay?" you muttered out. "No," Tim bursted out. "No! Everything's not okay! I just- It's just..." Tim exclaimed out but couldn't find the right words to describe what was wrong, like his feelings were flying everywhere and he hadn't properly collected them. His body language kept changing back and forth from that of a person who wanted to curl up and cry to a person who wanted to scream and punch holes in the walls, and neither of them stuck around to lock on either action.

"What happened?" you asked in a hushed tone and carefully walking towards him, like if too harsh of a voice or fast of a movement would spook him and make him worse. "Too much happened!" he shouted. You flinched at the volume of his voice. You knew he wasn't shouting at you. He was distressed and caught in between too many strong emotions and he doesn't know how to hold them still. You knew that. But you had never seen him this full of anger before. Upon recovering from the misplaced tone, you cautiously placed your hand on his upper arm. "Tim. What happened?" you repeated.

In that moment, Tim seemed to just come crumbling down. He practically latched onto you, almost making you fall down, and had just started to spill out so many things. You couldn't keep up with all of it, he was talking too fast. What you managed to take in was him talking about his condition coming back in full force after it had seemingly gone away, then side tracking talking about when he came to you that day with that busted knee and how terrified you looked for him, and something about a channel, an old acquaintance, and then his medical documents and something about a guy named Jay. All the while you had lead him to your couch so that he wouldn't fall to the floor as his body crumbled. Once he was done, he had practically sunk the two of you into the couch completely and he held onto you like you were the only thing still keeping his wits together. And he shook like one of those terrified little dogs.

You just held him. You held him as tight as you could and consoled him. That's all you could do. All you could do was just rub up and down his back and mutter "It's okay." and "I'm here." into his hair while Tim himself just shook and seemed on the boarder of crying.

"I'm not crazy, right?" Tim asked very suddenly. Before you could ask "What?" out of confusion, he looked up at you. "I'm not crazy, right? You don't think I'm a psychopath or anything?" he asked. He looked like he was frazzled, like his last wits will be spent and he'd ball and hyperventilate if you didn't answer in time. "No," you answered quickly.

"No. No, Tim. I don't think you're crazy. Not at all." you responded and you carefully held his face in your hands. "You aren't a psychopath and you're not crazy. You just... have a lot going on." you explained. "You have a lot of things going on and you don't fully understand it." .

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he trembled out. "I just want to be normal. Why does this have to happen to me?" Tim cried. You went back to holding him tightly and ran you hand through his hair. You muttered "I know." and the past phrases of "It's okay." "I'm here." as you kissed which ever part of his head you could reach and gently shushing as he wept.

You don't know how long you stayed there holding, muttering to, and kissing him, but at some point you stopped for a moment and realize that he had fallen asleep, probably having weeped himself into exhaustion. Even then you didn't stop holding him. You just did your best to position the two of you so you could lay on the couch and let yourself fall asleep. The bed that you were originally about to fall asleep in before he came didn't matter anymore. Tim was far more important than that. Tim is more important than just about everything in your book.

#slenderverse #marble hornets #mh tim #tim wright #slenderverse x reader #marble hornets x reader #mh tim x reader #hurt comfort

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werdlewrites · 11 months ago

Text

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

Share support through likes, comments, and reblogs! Find my kofi here for further support and early chapter access.

summary: “I’m sure I can handle it. And you? You’re not going t’say a word, got it? Not t’anyone.” It’s a warning—a threat—as his finger points like a gun, holding him hostage until he surrenders. Steve can only accept his fate—one worse than Hopper’s anger—as he pictures her face contorted in rage. His arms raised to rest behind his head, fingers locked with a gaze far off beyond the parted blinds at the other's back. “Lying t’a superhuman. Great. I’ll get my will ready. Seeing as, y’know, she’ll definitely kill me.” warnings: Steve is an angel, emotional avoidance, secrecy, some Jopper wc: 3,750

The night is long—nearly never-ending. It was far past any normal dinner time, but their situation wasn’t exactly deemed normal. Together, the pair sit in the living room with paper plates of warmed food. They bicker over who gets the unsturdy sofa, knowing it’ll buckle with their weight added together. She uses the excuse that he’s worked all day and needs to rest. He argues against her, willing to sacrifice his comfort for a girl in distress. But she falls to the now-cleaned floor across from the couch, ignoring his words as a fork cuts away at the lasagna. Briefly, he fumes. He was nearly red in the face at just how stubborn she was, but ultimately chose to sit on the floor as well, disregarding the ache in his back. They talk about little things—from how his day went at work to what her favorite classes were to how she managed to find her way back out of the woods on her own. He’s impressed by her bravery, yet he's still frustrated at her inability to listen. It’s how kids are; he knows that.

Through a mouthful of noodles, she asks about her home. If that level of destruction was truly at the hands of one man, paired with her own curse, Hopper seems reluctant to give clarity, thinking over his words carefully before choking down his mouthful, wincing at the lump as it slithers down. “It’s a cover-up,” he mumbles, preparing another bite to pile onto his fork. There’s a pause between them both, chewing behind her hand before asking, “For what?” He waits, his eyes fluttering elsewhere as he continues on this false path. “Don’t know yet. I just know that he’s not a good man.” What comes in reply isn’t what he anticipates. A hearty snort to echo in this small space shared. “Yeah, no shit.” They fall silent just after—a look of wonder and worry in his stare, watching as she so casually pulls apart her meal. Unaware of the torment to twist and tear at her mind, she was unable to escape the sight of the grayed woman and the girl she connected with in that space. A girl who seemed very much alive and aware. Somehow pulling Autumn’s mind into her own, where there was only fear, blood, and the man to invade her home. It’s an unsolved mystery—no simple man could give an understanding of the storm she fought through. Yet still, she speaks. “He’s not the only one I saw.” Her voice is soft, like a gentle summer breeze. Warm, and barely heard beneath the crickets from just beyond the front door. He questions who, and the passionate pace she held for a hot meal slows to a standstill, shrugging in response. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like... I’m just seeing someone else’s story. Their life, y’know? And he’s right there. I don’t get it.” There’s a beat, and then the atmosphere around her seems to shift. Nightmares are lifted, or rather forced back into the closet, to live in ignorance as she stands from her place to discard her plate. Her hand extends down toward him, waiting for his own, and he can’t help but offer a nod in thanks, though the smile he wears is fake. As they turn from one another, he allows the weakness to creep in, his grin falling flat as a stare burns holes through the floor. Words rush forward before being swallowed back down, shards of glass to rip at his insides, and his pain goes unheard as she scrubs at the utensils. He wants to give her the space she needs to move at her own pace, but the secrets are a slow and unseen torture within him. Slowly, he lets them trickle out for some sort of relief from the pressure. “He knows your father,” he states with a cracking voice, picturing the way her eyes shoot daggers toward his back as if he misspoke. “Works with him, I think.” She doesn’t budge from her place in the kitchen, turning at the handles until the water eases its flow. He’s not even entirely sure if she heard him. But she asks, “Doing what?” She already knows. At least she knows enough to where the idea is less surprising. He wonders what she’s seen—what he’s told her, if anything at all. “I’m not sure,” A lie. Too fearful to look her way in anticipation of a glare, plucking out the weeds of an ugly truth. He’s hesitant, ready to cast away his gaze should tearful eyes find him, but she remains facing the sink, fingers gripping the edge.

In a breath, she turns with arms crossed over her chest, seeming more irritated than disturbed by the idea of the girl's father working with a man on a mission to steal her away. Then, the denial comes in like a burst of wind to blow away the heavy fog. Eyes lit with new energy and purpose. “Well,” she says, cutting through the silence. “You better figure some shit out. I can’t imagine how much schoolwork I’ve missed. I’m probably failing right now, Hop. Failing.” His mouth is hung agape, with a slight twist at the corner of his lip in pure disbelief. He’s seen this behavior before, staring right back at him in the mirror. The switch you flip, leaving the room dark and a mind ignorant of reality, so that you may live. “You were almost abducted, and you’re worried about school?” She makes a face, shoulders shrugged with palms out to the sky, as if to say, “Duh,” and he’s baffled. “CPS will come knockin’, and then what?"

He knows the girl is right. He knows her empty home echoes with numerous phone calls from the school, searching for the missing girl. He’s not ready to let her walk through those doors and out of his sight. Not without a plan. So, Wednesday morning comes, and he’s back in the office, plotting and making secretive phone calls to the only other person who’s familiar with the situation, Steve Harrington. The boy was eager to help in any way that he could, though cut short the moment he attempted to mention her name over the line. Hours pass, and the sound of sneakers scuffing along the tile brings his full attention toward the shut door, listening to the sounds of complaining as the door is forced open. It’s well after hours of school coming to an end, and the boy's face is still holding remnants of sweat with flushed cheeks. “Sorry,” he mumbled, kicking the door shut behind him as he flipped a thick stack of paperwork with a single hand. “Had practice after class. It must’ve slipped my mind. Life’s been so crazy,” he finishes with an uncomfortable laugh. Hopper is left unimpressed or amused by the boy. Arms folded over the table to support his weight, as his stare burns through freckled skin, a smile quickly falters. “Y’know…because of?” He waits in silence, studying the other man's expression carefully, yet all he offers is an extended hand, waiting with great impatience. “Yep, anyway,” he states quickly, slipping the collection into Hopper’s grip. Now satisfied, the officer sits back in his chair to sift through the work. Specific things he’s requested.

Autumn’s homework.

Steve watches as the man's face twists up in familiar annoyance, saying a silent prayer that the girl would never ask for his help with precalculus. “Good job,” he sighs, letting the stack fall to his desk with a “whap,” before leaning further back in his chair, hands running along his tired face. “All she can think about are her grades,” Hopper snorts. The humor isn’t lost on Steve, his lips turning up in a smile as he settles into the chair just across from the chief. “That doesn’t surprise me.” The man casts a glance in the boy’s direction, a subtle frown developing the more comfortable he gets. Like he belonged in a place like this—a secret agent working undercover for Hopper and a wanted girl. His thumbs twiddle, and his focus shifts around the shared space, taking it all in with his lips parting before closing again. He wants to speak but feels small under Hopper’s stern stare, swallowing his words. The police chief can hardly handle the growing tension, snapping, “What?" Earning a wide-eyed look from Steve in surprise. “What?” he repeats back with an innocent tone, his ignorance not once fooling Hopper. “You’ve clearly got something on your mind. Spit it out.” He’s uncertain, lips pursed with an avoidant focus as scrambled thoughts collect. His hesitance is visible in the way his Adam’s apple bobs, fidgeting hands now frozen though his knee bounces. “I just, uh,” he pauses, now chewing at his still-healing lip. "How—how is she?” A heavy intake of air fills the man's chest, exhaling, “She’s fine,” he said, his eyes now locked on the quiet phone at his desk, waiting for a ring of interruption. What he gets in return, however, is a hard snort just across the way. “Yeah, I’m sure. She seemed real fine before I left.” Steve leans with his back against the chair, arms folded over his chest, and a look of light amusement in his expression. “Can’t imagine being in the best mental state after finding o-” “She doesn’t know,” he cuts in, watching how it all shifts into something of disbelief. Like all he had known was ripped out beneath his feet, now unbalanced and incapable of processing this new reality. “What?”

The teen waits in silence. He was hoping for a shift in the atmosphere or a twist of a smile to suggest he was only joking. But he’s stoic and empty. “Are you kidding me? You haven’t-? How can you explain-?” “It’s complicated, kid,” the man mumbles behind the hand to scrub away his frown lines. A glare soon lands on the boy as he scoffs, following with, “Yeah, no shit, it’s complicated.” Steve seems ignorant of his tone or the lack of respect shown to not just a peer but also an officer. He sees them as companions, a duo linked together through unsettling times. A friend in the darkness, when no one else could understand. "But it’s going t’get about one hundred times worse if you don’t tell her.” He feigns a smile, replying, “I’m sure I can handle it. And you? You’re not going t’say a word, got it? Not t’anyone.” It’s a warning—a threat—as his finger points like a gun, holding him hostage until he surrenders. Steve can only accept his fate—one worse than Hopper’s anger—as he pictures her face contorted in rage. His arms raised to rest behind his head, fingers locked with a gaze far off beyond the parted blinds at the other's back. “Lying t’a superhuman. Great. I’ll get my will ready. Seeing as, y’know, she’ll definitely kill me.” With a roll of his eyes, Hopper stands with the paperwork in hand, making his way towards a discarded duffle bag, plunging them into its depths where few other secrets remain hidden. The last thing he needed was for someone to stumble into his unoccupied office, his mind filling with a thousand questions after finding homework scattered across his desk.

He waits in silence, hands hung on his hips, while he watches as the boy lives out what he believes to be his very short future and torturous end. His stare glazed over with anxiety and unavoidable doom. “I need another favor,” Hopper speaks up, immediately regretting his lack of control once he sees the curl of a smile. “I seem t’be doing a lot of those lately.” He doesn’t allow enough room for the response to evoke annoyance, pushing through with a clear mission ahead. “I need you t’watch her.” “Watch her?” he questions, tone dripping with uncertainty and confusion. “I don’t know where those people are. They could be out there,” he gestures towards the space out just beyond the closed door, where people filed in to provide complaints against their neighbors. Hell, it could have been Florence, for all he knew—keeping tabs on a man who threatened the secrecy of their operation. “I can’t be there all of the time. I’ve got t’keep up some sort of illusion here. Just-just watch her at school for me.” “Oh, she’ll love that. Being spied on.” Hopper pulls from the wall, fingers curled into fists as they press against the desk that separates them. It’s then that the boy feels as though he is being buried alive, with Hopper holding the shovel as he looms over the grave. It’s intimidating, and he feels himself shrink away, looking for a quick escape. Preparing to scale the walls of his demise. “You got a better idea?” He’s unable to find his voice at first, his lips parting to speak and nothing coming forward until he clears his throat, carving a shaken path. “Jonathan? She actually likes him,” he finishes with a heavy-hearted sigh, a look of sadness in his eyes as his arms fall to rest lazily over his torso. The officer isn't exactly the most knowledgeable when it comes to teenagers or their strange behaviors. But he isn’t blind to the clear disappointment and longing, and he uses that to his advantage, taking a softer approach to tug at his strings. “She asked about you,” he offers in a light tone, pushing himself back to give the boy the space he needed. “She asked if you were okay. Seemed worried t’me.” The boy doesn’t respond just yet, taking it all in with great caution, weary of this sudden shift after all of her verbal lashings.

But it was different now, right? Autumn had opened the door for him and given him a place of rest when he felt lost. He had pulled her from the fire at the risk of his life. Should he dare be hopeful that maybe she found a familiar security in him? Even at minimal, a tolerance. “I strongly recommend leaving your bullshit behind, kid. Get over whatever happened between you two. We’ve got bigger problems than some... ’Lovers quarrel,’” he adds with fingers raised in a quotation. He doesn’t miss the way freckled skin flushes with embarrassment, nearly shooting out of his seat to argue. “Not lovers! We never-” “Save it, kid. Are you going t’help me or what?” A steadying breath fills Steve’s chest, his foot nearly kicking at the carpeted floor as he thinks it all over. The two had barely scratched the surface of friendship—he wouldn’t even call it that just yet. The ties of their connection are still blowing in the wind, torn in two. Could he force himself into her space for her safety, but at the risk of her pushing back? He sees the face of every teacher in that school, posing as an educator but keeping a close eye on the girl as she lets her guard down behind a book. He thinks of them isolating her just as she tries to leave the class—another sedative to keep her from screaming—before carting her off without detection. Some things are worse than her anger—her annoyance and lack of understanding as he lingers at her back, so he nods. “I’ll keep her safe.”

By the time the end of Hopper’s shift comes, he’s found some form of relief. The crushing weight on his chest is lifted, but only just. Knowing she would be looked after in places he could not go gave him comfort. No, he didn’t expect Steve to rush in head-first and fend off monsters disguised as humans. A sinister gleam in their eyes and eager hands ready to snatch. But he hopes, with his presence by the girl's side, that any plans of disruption will be discouraged long enough until she’s under his watchful eye once more. But the iron that lays out across him, threatening to concave, has names for all the things he has yet to solve. Her father and the medication he forced upon his daughter. The girl named Jane, and what role did she play in all of this? What role did Autumn play? The sheriff needs more than just the camaraderie between himself and Steve, a mere boy who stumbled into this chaos by chance. Hopper seeks solace in someone familiar with the turmoil. The struggle of having their life flipped on its head. So when the sun sets just over the horizon, leaving a glow to spread through the evening, he finds himself standing at the Byers’ front door, taking in the calm as all seems to stand still behind the door. Joyce had pulled the newspaper from the windows, now pulling the curtains shut to hide from anyone too nosey to get a look at the undead boy. He would have thought it empty if it weren’t for the glow of a lamp and a sudden clattering followed by, “Shit.” A smirk graces his features, knuckles tapping against the wood, and he imagines the look of surprise on Joyce’s face. “One second!” She calls back.

The ruckus inside continues as she sets things down in a hurry; the click of an undone lock is heard just before she peers out through the crack. Light shines on his face, a low "Hi" drifting through the cold air. “Hopper,” she calls in surprise, now pulling the door back to welcome him inside. “I’m so happy t’see you,” she states with a shuddering voice, shoulders hunched as she fights the breeze that slips through before the door can close. “Things just... it all just got crazy, and..." she pauses, arms crossed over her torso for further warmth. She seems almost embarrassed, avoiding his gaze. Teetering back and forth until the words finally come through. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” The man makes a face of confusion at her apology, amused by her seemingly scattered priorities. “You just got your boy back, and you’re worried about a phone call?” Of course, she was. He could see the guilt in doe eyes as they looked up at him. Together, they had marched through the devil's door and made it out alive. She thought of him daily. Where he had gone and if he was okay. Her days were long and dragging, filled with exhaustion as Will cried in the night, seeking comfort from his nightmares. Her body was too tired to reach for the phone, but she took the sight of his SUV in town as something positive. “It’s fine, Joyce,” he reassures with a smile—one that she returns in full.

Hopper gives himself a moment to drink in the changes in her home. The hole was still boarded, and clutter had been cleaned up from the floor after the monster's attack. One thing he noticed above all else was a lack of multi-colored lights that once hung in his face. Instead, they lay dim inside a box, ready to be stored away. “Not leaving those up for Christmas?” he teases. “I don’t want to see those lights for the rest of my life.” They find happiness together, laughing in unison as if the horrors they experienced didn’t loom over their backs. “You got any suggestions for that?” She turns to gesture towards the still-painted wall—letters once serving a purpose, now an ugly memory as they stain the paper. He wants to make another joke to keep the air light, but a new presence creeps in, dressed in pajamas with damp hair clung to his forehead. Will stands in the doorway, eyes wide with surprise and the slightest hint of a smile, though faltering. An innocent and tormented mind thinks of only bad news—nothing good to come from the hero who stands in his home. “Hiya, kid,” the man states with a softened grin, noting the apprehension. “Just wanted t’come check on you and your mom. See if you guys need anything.” Hazel eyes shift towards his mother, finding comfort in her brilliant smile. “He’s going to help me put up new wallpaper.” Hopper laughs in return, a deep chuckle echoing through the small home to lift low spirits, though their weight is too much to carry. “I did not say that.” Will remains distant with a hesitant grin, not yet full, as he's forever haunted by the shadows he ran from. Not confident enough to face the man who pulled him from death's grip, gratitude was left unheard on his tongue as he slipped back down the hallway. Hopper waits before he speaks, hearing the click of his bedroom door before asking in a hushed voice, "How is he?" Joyce takes a breath, letting a hard sigh fall through, no matter the reassurance in her expression. Not wanting to worry anyone with her stress or troubles as they adjust back into normal life. "Oh, he's, y'know, as good as he can be. He's still really shaken up. Not-not really himself yet."

With a gaze still locked on the now empty doorway, he hums in acknowledgment. “It’ll take some time,” he speaks in a gentle, reassuring tone, watching as her fingers curl up around the fabric over her chest with anxiousness. “Yeah, I know.” His focus is shifting, mind slowly tearing itself in two as he debates himself over the reason for coming here. To bury his burden and drag his feet through the mud, or to risk the need for some relief by unleashing that weight for someone else to carry. Joyce was in her own world—her own mess. It’s selfish to ask for her ear and her support. Fingers press into closed eyes as if the arguing voices shattered every nerve, leaving him distressed. He’ll bid his “Goodbye’s” and apologize for interrupting her evening by slipping out that front door and into the dark. But she holds on—a gentle touch to his arm with sweet words to ask, “What’s wrong?” The walls come crumbling down—Joyce breaking through with little effort, ready to pull him from the prison he keeps himself in. “We need t’talk,” he says, just low enough for only her to hear. Together, the pair slip out the front door with a freshly lit cigarette between their fingers, Joyce watching as the officer paces across her porch, spilling his guts and theories over the wooden planks. Both are unaware of the boy creeping out from the shadows, leaving his ear pressed to the door to take in their secrets.

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ms-erin-kallus · 2 years ago

Text

I Threw Stones at the Stars but the Whole Sky Fell

Chapter 5

AO3 link in master list

(I’m so sorry these are taking so long, I haven’t been feeling well.)

The flight back to Lothal felt like a slow motion, lucid nightmare that she couldn’t wake up from, no matter how hard she tried. Rhoan searched frantically through the gaping hole in her memory’s timeline for how, or even when, she ended up back on Kallus’ ship. Every minutia of detail leading up to, and shortly following, those few blank minutes sat clearly in her mind. That short, brief time eluded her no matter where she searched, and she was looking hard.

His stupid game, the myriad people that played with her like a thing; and she with them, too many blasters pointed at her, Eind. Nothing. Then Kallus’ sudden concern.

The last thing she did remember; however, she really didn’t want to.

Kallus couldn’t hide the distress in his voice when he tried to talk to her through the door. There was a sense of worry that lingered in his words that only left her more and more confused as he tried diligently to convince her to come out.

Whatever had happened, despite his sudden sincerity in her well being, she somehow knew his recklessness was to blame.

She didn’t care about his feelings. Nor would she ever.

And so she sat reticently, curled up and hidden in a corner hidden within the dim light of the room as she stared blankly at a pretty, blue, shapeless mass that completely swallowed the chair she had thrown it onto.

The entire night she had felt like that chair.

She grew up being told ‘things happen for a reason and you need to trust that they will work out. Keep your chin up. People depend on and even envy your position.’

Things happen for a reason.

Those things could’ve worked out much better.

It was why she felt just like the chair that was being slowly suffocated in front of her.

Pain filled facades.

The cold silver rings of the necklace he had given her slowly warmed as she moved them back and forth along the length of the delicate chain that held them as she mindlessly twisted it around her fingers. A whirlwind of confusion and emotion spun themselves into a rapid bombardment of feelings that she felt so intensely she swore it permeated into her bones.

The small room steadily grew smaller with each second that passed as she pulled her knees closer into her chest anxiously and waited.

This wasn’t worth it.

A little over an hour later, she felt the ship enter Lothal’s atmosphere followed shortly by the soft thump of landing gears as they met with the hard ground below them. Dread filled relief flushed over her when a quiet knock came so quickly that she was sure he had been standing outside of the room the whole time.

Her heart froze and she glared at the thin door that was her only physical barrier between the two of them and hoped that he wasn’t stupid enough to open it.

“We’re back,” Kallus said quietly.

Rhoan said nothing and waited longer than she felt she should have until the sound of his footsteps carried him away. She slowly let her aching knees uncurl from her chest before she stood and stealthily peered out into the eerily quiet ship. Cautiously she looked down the hallway and waited again for the nothing that came. Boundaries had been crossed the entire night and she had no reason to believe he would suddenly stop because of whatever had happened.

A prolonged silence reassured her, as much as it could, before she finally felt that he had gone. His necklace was still tangled around her fingers and she shuddered when she looked at it as she suddenly felt both the way he drew his fingers along her neck as he deliberately invaded her space and his breath against her ear as he told her to keep it. There was no sound when it hit the floor nor any remorse in her heart when she casually threw it down before she made her way to the opened boarding door.

A trail of hundreds of golden beads led to the middle of the sitting room where a thousand of them lay in scattered patterns across the floor.

Stars.

“Rhoan,” Kallus said gently, as he smartly maintained his distance when she finally disembarked.

She closed her eyes and took in a sharp breath before she turned on her heel to face him. His expression dropped heavily as their eyes met and she was genuinely surprised, but completely indifferent, to his newly found remorse.

He started to say something but hesitated before his shoulders fell and he looked down. “It happens to me too sometimes,” he said quietly. “When thi-,”

“But you deserve it” she interjected monotonously. She shot an exhausted glare at him for long enough to make sure that her point had been made clear before she left him to stand alone and watch her walk away.

Again.

Rhoan was still wide-awake when her alarm went off the next morning. She reached over and swatted at it blindly until the harsh chime stopped echoing through her ears before she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling with dry, irritated eyes. Every muscle was sore and it felt like her head was pounding itself against her skull.

They won’t find you, she thought before she begrudgingly pulled herself up and walked over to the small sink in the corner of her room.

The hollow eyes of forced acceptance stared back blankly at her. She looked older than she was, and tired, because she was tired. A lifetime of stress had that effect on people. Her head dropped hard as she sighed loudly and splashed her face with cold water in a feeble attempt to snap herself out of her trance. It would be another long day. She could feel it.

You should go.

Her carry bag felt heavier than it was as she threw it over her shoulder and made her way out and onto the lift at the end of the hallway. A list of reqs that had come in while she was on her date scrolled under her finger as the lift dropped a single level. The doors opened and she stepped to her side to allow room for those coming in as she continued to read absentmindedly.

When she noticed that no one got on but the doors stayed open, she looked up to see that Agent Kallus stood in front of her in all of his aggravating glory. No matter how many times she begged the universe to mercifully stop his continuous reappearances, it was beginning to feel to her like her pleas were going unheard.

The next system over could’ve heard her sigh as she went to step around him.

“No,” he said as he quickly put his hand against the inside wall before she could exit.

The sound of his voice, even just the one syllable, grated mercilessly against her ears as his always present woodsy smell quickly became so overbearing that it made her stomach turn hard.

“Do not assume that you may tell me what to do,” she hissed as she looked out into the hallway and sighed with indignation at the unwanted apology that she knew he would attempt. But she also knew better than to cause a scene, especially with a superior, even if that superior was an officer that had spent the previous night trying to get her out of his dress.

And almost killed.

Twice.

Just as she had known, he didn’t move his arm to let her pass and instead used his size to push her back. “Take the next one,” he said forcefully to the group of confused people behind him as he reached over and pressed the button to close the doors with the back of his other hand. As always, his demeanor was outwardly authoritative but there was a subtle sense of stress in his voice. He hadn’t slept either.

Rhoan stood perfectly still and continued to stare straight ahead in hopes that openly ignoring him would make him angry enough to just leave in frustration. She did have a penchant for pissing him off until he lost full control of the situation. But instead, she could feel his gaze beat down on her as he shuffled the cup he held in his left hand. The smell of caf suddenly and blessedly overpowered the fragrance of his skin but his mere presence was still more than enough to keep her nauseated.

“You didn’t sleep,” he said with a quiet sigh.

“Thanks for that.”

“Rhoan,” he started gently but stopped when she looked up at him.

The corners of her mouth pulled down and back as her gaze darted across his face. The unforeseen reaction caught her off guard and she quickly looked away from him out of both embarrassment and confusion. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it.

He cleared his throat uneasily and she braced herself for what she knew was coming, the forced feelings of pseudo remorse and sympathy that were typical of someone that wanted forgiveness to help ease their barely functioning conscience.

“I wanted-,“

“How can someone trained in recognizing nonverbal cues be so damn clueless?” she snapped, and as she reached over to restart the lift, he stepped in front of her hand before she could touch it. “I’m. Fine,” she sighed angrily,

“No, you’re not,” he said sternly as he looked deep into her eyes and somehow stepped even further into her way.

“Don’t you have some rebels to go chase and not catch for the thousandth time? How are you not embarrassed by that by now? I woul-.”

“That’s not going to work this time. If I could survive it last night, then I’m sure I can survive this.”

“Wanna test that hypothesis?”

“No, I want you to take this,” he begged more than he asked as he held out the cup and a small bowl of fruit pieces in desperate hopes that she would see the sincerity in his offer of beginning their reconciliation.

Rhoan looked at it and shook her head, “I don’t need, much less want, anything from you.”

“Hate me. I deserve it, but you do need to at least take care of yourself,” he said with feigned authority as he held them closer to her. His eyes plead for her to take them with what she almost felt was panic.

She chose to ignore it and put her arms behind her back as she stood and glowered up at him.

Suddenly her eyes shot to the doors and he instinctively followed before she swiftly reached over and slapped the tops of both containers in a recycled move that she had learned was quite effective when she needed to get her point across quickly.

Kallus swore angrily as while stood with his arms held out awkwardly at his sides as he kicked the fruit pieces and empty containers out of his way with soaked, sticky boots. He looked up at her furiously and growled, “what the fuck, lieutenant!”

“Finally, he uses my title like he’s supposed to!” She couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped as she looked from his scowl down to her happily created mess, “ya know, last time I did that you killed people,” she quipped as she crossed her arms and smiled up at him expectantly.

He looked at her in what he recognized as shock, pride, or fear before he realized it was actually all three.

And he knew that she knew it.

Go straight to your office. Start the transfer papers.

She pushed him out of her way and hit the door open button. “Keep this up and I might have to use that page from your playbook,” she added darkly as she walked away from him.

Luckily, Rhoan had plenty to keep her busy after her elevator encounter. Regardless, she felt that time hadn’t moved much for her, no matter how much work she managed to finish. Being steadily occupied at least kept her mind off of things and R3 had an innate ability to keep her grounded and focused.

“Droids,” her comlink suddenly chirped.

Rhoan rolled her eyes hard and sighed before she responded to whoever it was on the other side of their pleasant conversation that needed a serious lesson in civility.

Then she remembered where she was.

“This is Lieutenant Rial..”

“You are needed for maintenance in HC-4. A droid is stuck in the wall,” a man’s voice snapped back before she finished her sentence.

R3 let out a series of beeps and Rhoan had to shush them before she could respond.

“I’m sorry, what exactly do you mean stuck in a wall,” she asked as she rubbed her right temple with her free hand and shrugged at an astromech that was ready to shut down power to the whole dome and possibly save her the hassle the fun way.

The man on the other end huffed loudly, “just get up here and pull it out.”

The transmission went dead and before she pulled herself up from the disassembled droid in front of her, Rhoan debated whether or not she really should walk down to a hangar and escape it all. Instead, she stretched hard and rubbed her tired eyes, the lack of sleep had begun to manifest itself physically and quickly.

“Ya wanna come with, my love?” she asked R3 as she put anything she thought she would need to free an unknown type of robot from an unknown type of wall into a toolbox.

R3 just spun their dome in a quick circle of disapproval and rolled off into the back of the cluttered workshop before she could force them to go too.

“I’m gonna put a restraining bolt on you when I get back.” She yelled her empty threat over her shoulder as she walked out.

There was a series of loud beeps and she couldn’t help but giggle to herself as she made her way up to HC-4.

Two Stormtroopers were standing silently at attention outside of the lift door when Rhoan stepped off and into the heavily guarded hallway that was the High Command level.

“Credentials,” one snapped at her as the other gripped their blaster rifle tighter in an open show of aggression.

“Okay. No problem,” she said with shaky confusion before she pulled her badge out from under the top of a uniform that no one else in the dome wore. Oh, yeah. “I’m just here to pull a droid out of a wall,” she said as confidently as she could while the trooper turned her credential card over in their hand enough times that it began to make her nervous.

The two looked at each other before one asked, “You’re…what exactly?”

Rhoan shrugged. “We do what we’re told,” she joked to an uninterested audience as the other spoke quietly into her comlink.

“Okay,” she said slowly as she stepped aside and handed the card back.

Rhoan quickly walked away from them only to be stopped and re-identified by two more sentries at the door to the command room.

She stepped inside and immediately hesitated as she quickly looked down before any of them saw her surprised fear. On the far side of the center logistics table, sat the ’always threatening unless you’re that one stormtrooper no one has the balls to mention aloud’ Grand Moff Tarkin flanked by two officers that she was unfamiliar with.

A fourth person stood across from him with their back to her but she hadn’t gotten a good look at them before her face fell. A subtle but nauseatingly familiar scent abruptly assaulted her nose and made her want to turn and leave.

Before the thought had fully registered in her mind, Agent Kallus turned to face her. He stood as tall as he could with his hands clasped firmly behind his back and his nose held high, as always.

They were in a place where she couldn’t talk down to him and he was openly enjoying the fact.

“I believe that Lieutenant Lyste has something he would like to say to you,” he said sternly over his shoulder, his eyes locked onto Rhoan’s.

She waited a second before she looked from Kallus over to his side where a smaller man stood behind him and shifted his weight nervously. It was incredibly uncommon, and slightly uncomfortable behavior, especially for an officer in both this type of situation and its company. She liked it.

“I’d like to apologize for my curtness earlier. It was uncalled for.”

“It’s alright,” she lied as she quickly glared back at Kallus despite his chivalrous act of protecting her honor. There was a quiet beep of desperation that turned her attention to the real matter at hand. A messenger droid’s data spike had somehow become lodged into the computer terminal of the logistics table and was unwillingly stuck there.

The conversation that she had obviously interrupted began again as she stepped around the distressed droid and sat down beside it. “What have you gotten yourself into here,” she asked calmly as it tried to shake itself loose again.

“Easy,” she said reassuringly as she patted the top of its dome and smiled. She opened up the tool kit and began to rummage around quietly as she desperately hoped it had everything in it she would need because interrupting them again was not something she wanted to deal with. “How long have you been stuck here, little friend?”

“Not long,” it beeped in binary.

“Good, good. Did anything happen when you got stuck,” she asked as she reached over and hit a small green button on its dome before she began to analyze the situation further.

“What do you mean,” the droid asked as it looked from side to side nervously.

“Like, any sort of power surge,” she began before she heard a voice above snap “is this going to take you long?”

She looked up and opened her mouth to say something but Kallus tapped his finger hard against the bottom of the lip of the table three times and she took the begrudgingly appreciated hint and stopped.

“I’m sure that it won’t,” he intervened successfully on her behalf as he steered the conversation back to where it had left off.

Rhoan shook her head and rolled her eyes as she pulled out a small screwdriver, “I’m gonna remove your arm before I start to tear down the porthole. Just in case,” she whispered to the droid.

A few seconds later, the unit was freed and quickly rolled away from her and took a place by the door as it faced the rest of the room. She smiled and winked at it as she set to remove the spike as quietly as she could.

The conversation between the four was regarding the rebel cell, known as the Spectres. She wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping, but she did pick up enough pieces to figure out that they were working out the logistics of setting up an ambush near Geonosis.

Ten credits says he fucks it up enough to finally consider a career change, she thought as she pulled the front plate off of the terminal and took out a small light to look inside.

The meeting, and time itself, quickly lost her interest as she began to meticulously remove the droid’s spike without causing it irreparable damage. ‘Useless’ droids ended up in the scrap heap and she wasn’t about to let that happen over something so trivial.

Before she knew it, the men began to file out of the room.

“Come on already,” she begged the universe once again as one of them stayed behind. It wasn’t the one she wanted either and she honestly considered which of his superiors she would have to sleep with to get him put on permanent desk duty at ISB headquarters. On Coruscant. Far, far away from her.

“You never ate,” he said flatly after an unreasonably long silence.

Rhoan felt her grip tighten around the wrench in her hand, “and how exactly did you know that? Are you spying on me now?”

“I could hear your stomach growling earlier,” he replied simply as he turned and walked out of the room.

“The nerve on that one,” she said to the armless droid once she knew he was far enough away.

“He got really angry with the one that was rude to you before you came in,” the droid told her as it rolled up to inspect her progress.

“Well, that’s nice but it’s not what’s important now," she sighed as she pressed a red button on its control panel and set to work.

A few minutes later Roan heard heavy footsteps and turned around just in time to watch Kallus enter the room. She refused to acknowledge him and instead turned back to the spike that she almost had freed from the porthole.

He looked around somewhat confused for a second before he finally turned his attention squarely on her, “are you alone in here?”

“I was. I prefer it actually, so if you don’t mind.”

“I thought I hea-, never mind, it’s not important,” Kallus ignored her as he grabbed a chair from a corner and placed it in front of the door.

Rhoan’s fight or flight response immediately went into overdrive. “What are you doing,” she asked cautiously as she stood up and chose fight.

“I’m not leaving until you eat this,” he said sternly as he held out a protein bar to her.

She looked at it and then up at him, “you can’t be serious?”

“I’ve got time,” he said simply, with no intention of leaving her any room for argument.

“Not from what I heard earlier, you don’t,” she retorted as she crossed her arms in front of her chest in defiance. “Given your track record you might want to spend this time preparing for them and leaving me alone.”

The attempt at deflection went unheeded as he simply looked down and held the bar out further toward her.

She didn’t move her eyes away from his as she reached out and quickly slapped the inside of his wrist and the backside of his hand at the same time causing the bar to suddenly fly across the room. Neither of them broke their gaze as it hit a wall and fell to the floor.

In a subtle indication of the pride in her action, she clasped her hands behind her back as she stood up on her toes and ever so slightly raised the corner of her mouth, “you lost your intimidation factor when you took me on a date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” he said quickly, his voice pitched just slightly higher than normal in his sudden defense.

“Would you rather I call it your failed mission? So many options,” she asked as she slightly tilted her head up at him and smiled as sweetly as she could muster.

“Why are you being like this?”

“Why are you here,” she countered hostilely.

“Because you aren’t taking care of yourself. You had a serious traumatic episode last night and you’ve obviously tried to compartmentalize it instead of deal with it in a healthy way,” he said as he took a step toward her. She noticed that he very slightly reached out as he did but instantly pulled back upon realization.

“I was unaware that the Royal Imperial Academy offered electives in psychiatry,” Rhoan popped off as sarcastically as she could. His newfound concern had become an annoying nuisance to her.

His left brow raised ever so slightly at her remark, “Rhoan-,”

“Why do you even care?” she shouted as she crossed her arms in front of her.

“Because I feel guilty,” he yelled back.

“Good! You should be ashamed of yourself!” she screamed back. “It’s not my problem that you’re having some sort of attack of conscience all of a sudden. Honestly, after everything you’ve done, and not just to me, I didn’t think you even had one.”

What she said stung. Not because she said it, but because she was right. He was ashamed of what he had done to her. It was eating him alive and he didn’t know why. Kallus never felt anything the day after but he also never had a night go the way theirs had, much less end in such unintended and deeply personal revelations and emotions.

Kallus quickly looked away, but she still saw him and he tried to cover when he quietly walked over and picked up the bar from the floor. He stood and faced away from her for a few seconds before he turned back and walked to the door. The package fell heavily into her tool kit before he moved the chair back to the corner and sat.

“What did he say to you,” he asked quietly after a few seconds. “That man, the way you just shut down was-.”

“I am not talking to you about that,” she hissed as she turned and sat back down at the terminal heatedly.

“Rho-,”

“Fine. You wanna know what he said? He said he couldn’t believe I had come there with you,” she snapped as she moved the head of her screwdriver up and down to reiterate that she meant him.

“You shouldn’t have done this, joined the Empire. Not if you’re going to be so obvio-,” he started in a low voice as he sat back down in the chair.

“What the fuck does that mean?” she interrupted as she picked up a wrench in her other hand.

His long fingers interlaced as he leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees to look at her on a more personal level, “there were almost two hundred people on that yacht last night and you were the only person that reacted that way to the decraniated slaves. The way you looked at them, Rhoan, these are things that the academies arduously work out of people and they do it for a reason.”

Rhoan closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “Well, I guess now you know why I work with droids then,” she finally answered around the flashlight that she had placed in her teeth before she went back to the terminal socket.

There were a reticent few seconds, “the Empire has a way of stripping people of their humanity. It makes the job easier,” he finally said almost despondently as if it were a spontaneous recognition that he felt was brought on by her.

“Yeah, is that how you sleep at night then,” she asked over her shoulder at him.

“I don’t sleep actually.”

“Have you tried not doing things like razing refugee camps? I feel like that’s a good start,” she asked sarcastically as she looked over at him.

There was an unexpected look of remorse that sat heavily in his eyes when she turned to see why he was abnormally quiet. Is he malfunctioning?

“I was under direct order from Lord Vader himself.”

She looked at him with empathy for the very first time.

“What would you have done in that situation? Told him no,” the agent asked her quietly.

“Should’ve made yourself scarce like I did. That guy or thing or whatever he is now, is scary.”

“Serious-,”

“I don’t do hypotheticals,” she said shortly as she turned back and pulled a small screw out of the terminal and placed it on a magnetic strip at her feet.

“Humor me. You’re obviously still a decent person. What would you have done,” he asked curiously as he watched her fight back with her work.

“Left the room when it was obvious that I wasn’t wanted there,” she said as she examined the porthole and twisted at the droid’s spike gently.

“Dammit, Rhoan,” he yelled as he shot up and stormed over to where she sat. He reached down into the small space between her and the table, grabbed the spike and turned it a full three hundred and sixty degrees before he yanked it out and threw it to the ground at her feet.

The woman sat shocked and confused as he quickly stood up and crossed his arms tightly around his broad chest, he was tired of her diversions and it was making him absolutely irate with her.

“Did you do this on purpose,” she started before she took a rage filled breath, “to get me alone?”

“You can talk to me about this or I can have you placed on an involuntary hold,” he threatened darkly, ignoring her correct statement. “I’ve seen what things like this do to people and I don’t want to see it happen to you too. Especially if I’m to blame.”

Rhoan looked at the spike and back at him before she slowly stood up and stepped over to face him.

His brow was furrowed ever so slightly and she would bet her life that he didn’t realize that the leather of his gloves made as much sound as it did when he stretched and retracted his fingers, which she now determined had to be a subconscious nervous tick.

She stared deep into his eyes for a few, long seconds before her quiet surrender, “fine.”

After a long breath he finally relaxed, “good, where would you like to begin?”

Rhoan shrugged as she walked over and sat in the chair, “I don’t know. I would assume you call medical and let them know you have a concern.” She kicked her right leg over her left and placed her hands on her knee. “I don’t know how you’re going to explain away that you took a date on a mission and almost got her killed and you now think she might be having some problems dealing with it.”

“I’m not fucking playing, Rhoan,” Kallus yelled.

In the blink of an eye she was in his face. “No, Agent, I am not playing,” she growled up at him.

Kallus grabbed her left arm and quickly pulled her into him. Rhoan went to swing with her right but he had learned that lesson the night before and caught her wrist before he pulled it into his shoulder.

His facial hair grazed softly against her heated skin as he leaned down and whispered into her ear, “no one saw you leave, Irys.”

Her stomach instantly sank. He was right, the hangar was empty when they left and returned, and he admitted that Boom had cut the security recordings on the yacht when they were in Eind’s private residence.

A quiet concession slightly loosened Kallus’ grip on her arms. He looked down at her anxiously and she could somehow sense that it was sincere, the whole exchange had been. He hadn’t put her in that kind of danger on purpose and she could tell by his actions that he was desperate to rectify the situation for both her and himself. Alexsandr Kallus was just really bad at differentiating when to be an agent and when to just be a man.

“I don’t want to do that to you. I just want to make sure that you’ll be alright,” he whispered.

She looked up at him and his eyes softened as soon as they met hers. The tension in his shoulders released and his face, still mere inches from hers, relaxed. They stood together, close enough that she knew he could feel her heart pound in her chest. His thumb ran slowly and deliberately across the back of her left hand, and in what she could only assume was a moment of sheer bravery or utter stupidity, his hand slid from its grasp of her upper arm to hold her around her shoulders.

His touch was soft and warm, and inviting and her eyes instinctively fluttered closed at the motion as her breath caught suddenly.

She sighed slowly before she leaned up into his ear close enough that her chest pushed slightly into his and escalated the interaction into the stratosphere, “first, tell me about Lasan.”

He instantly let go of her and took a step back. His eyes went dark and his body rigid. The betrayal read on his face like an open book that the simplest of minds could easily read.

It felt like someone had sucked the air out of the room and replaced it with a raging radioactive inferno, as was her intention.

“Maybe the Academy was better than I hoped they hadn’t been,” he said quietly as he turned and left the room.

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