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oddinary4bts · 8 months

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When the End Comes | ch 4 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: fear of getting stood up, alcohol, pet names, curses, Jungkook's scars, angst, stubborn Jungkook, pessimism, depressive episode, cliffhanger at the end I'm sorry, explicit content: jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), Jungkook taking pictures of them during (I apologize, I have sinned), balls sucking/fondling, pain kink (Jungkook), deep throating, mouth fucking, unprotected sex, hickey, clit play, degradation, fingering, cum play (ish?)

☆word count: 14.3k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: Rereading each chapter to edit is a challenge bc I just be sobbing the whole time :') I hope you enjoy this one, though it does really hurt oop

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, September 8th

You clutch the gift bag in your hand. It feels strange to be meeting Jungkook again, after last weekend. And even after last weekend, you’re not sure where you’re standing.

Did he spend his whole week thinking about you the way that you were thinking about him?

You texted a little, over the week. Each time a notification from him popped up on your phone, you felt like you’d gone back in time. Like maybe, maybe you took a time machine to a past of better days last weekend. It’s bittersweet in a way, because you feel like there is still so much left unsaid between you and him.

But he’s willing to try. Even if you broke him, even if you’ve been wondering if there’s anything salvageable after all, he’s willing to try. Willing to meet you at a Korean barbecue restaurant halfway between his place and yours.

You check the time, anxiety flooding your veins. He’s running late, though he texted you to tell you he was almost there. A part of you wonders if he’s going to stand you up – you think you’d deserve it. Because you’re not sure you deserve this chance, yet you don’t want to lose it, don’t want to let it go.

You look down at the bag. You bought the gift on a whim this week, and you have no idea if he’ll still want it. It’s a lens he was looking to buy months ago, before he left for Paris, and there’s a high chance that he’ll have bought it for himself since then…

You just couldn’t think about anything other than that to gift him. Even though his work was your demise, you know Jungkook loves photography. Always will, no matter where you two will end up. And since it was his birthday last weekend – before you’d reconnected – you thought why not? Why not get a gift and show him that you still care, that you remember?

Because you’d never forget, when it comes to him. You think, if you had dementia, he’d be the last thing you’d lose, if at all.

You worry at your lip, glancing around. Luckily enough for you, there is a bench outside of the restaurant, though you can only sit on a corner of it as the rest is still wet from the rain earlier. It was raining when you left work, but it fortunately stopped as you were getting ready for the date.

You sigh, looking down at your phone again. Twenty minutes late seems like a long time, considering that Jungkook’s not one to be late usually. A sense of dread takes ahold of your heart, and you already feel tears forming in your eyes.

You were foolish, stupid. Idiotic, if you thought there was a way things could be set right.

You get up, looking towards the door of the restaurant. A couple are waiting in the hall, arms around each other as they hug with not a care in the world. It aches deeply, makes you crave the physical intimacy last Saturday held and you gulp as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

Still you stay rooted in your spot. There’s a light tremor that starts taking a hold of you, and you regret not putting a jacket on even though it isn’t remotely freezing today. Your eyes fall to the gift bag, and you think about May. About the moment you’d let him go – has he gotten too far for you to reach him now?

A tear wins. Or perhaps it’s the gravity, growing ten times stronger as your heart breaks again. As the hope gets lost to you, replaced by that same deep sorrow you’ve become accustomed to. You sigh, the breath of air trembling on the way out.

And then you almost let out a scream as someone touches your arm.

Jungkook startles just as much as you, taking a step back, his big, doe eyes widening even more as he meets your gaze. Your mouth remains open, yet no words come out. You just take him in, take his appearance in – his piercings, the beanie he’s wearing, his flushed cheeks. He looks like he was running, and you think maybe he was.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you.

At that your eyes drop to the bright pink bouquet of flowers he’s holding, and something inside of you heals, as if you’ve found a cure to the disease.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you let out. You meet his gaze again. “You didn’t have to.”

He pulls at his piercings, shrugging sheepishly. “I wanted to.”

It’s warm. Whatever is blossoming in your chest is warm, a stark contrast to the winter you’ve been stuck in since the night you lost him.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and you blink away the tears in your eyes.

You freeze when he wipes the one that’s already rolled on your cheek, frowning slightly at the sight.

“The florist I wanted to go to first was closed,” he says as an explanation. “I had to run around to find another one.”

You offer him a small smile, and his features immediately smooth out into a soft expression too.

“I was scared you were…” you trail off, wetting your lips as you refuse to voice your fear.

Refuse to admit you didn’t have faith in him.

“I thought you would,” he answers carefully. “Hence why I ran.”

You nod. “I…” You look down at the gift bag, holding it up. “I got you a birthday gift.”

His smile is teary when you look at it next, and you take a moment to delve into the depths of his gaze. There’s a small twinkle there, though it is faint, barely even noticeable. If you didn’t know him like the sun knows the moon, you wouldn’t recognize it.

He’s hopeful. It’s strange – there was no hope in Jungkook’s gaze last weekend. Or there had been, for a fraction of a moment, until it had been blown away by the wind. You can only hope that this time it will hold on strong.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, though the curve of his pink lips tells you he appreciates the thought.

He grabs the gift bag, not looking through it right away. Instead, he hands you the flowers, and you delicately take them, bringing them close to your nose so that you can inhale the fragrance. Your eyelids flutter shut, and a content smile moves on your lips.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you meet his gaze again. “And…” You motion towards the gift. “You deserved it. I think you’ll like it.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, as Jungkook looks down at the bag. He offers you a tight-lipped smile, and you cock an eyebrow.

“What?” he lets out.

“Aren’t you going to…” you vaguely answer. “Open it?”

“Oh, now?” He chuckles awkwardly, glancing around before pointing towards the restaurant. “Shouldn’t we go in to give our names?”

He’s got a point. Especially considering that it’s a Friday evening. So you do just that, giving your phone number to the hostess as she tells you there will be a thirty minutes wait. You and Jungkook move back outside after that, and he guides you towards his car, a few streets down.

“How was work this week?” he asks on the way.

“Better,” you admit, remembering how you’d told him that you didn’t like the new department in which you worked.

And it’s true – it has been better. Maybe because the excitement of receiving texts from him through the days made it easier to handle. Or maybe it’s because you haven’t been so damned cold since last weekend. All in all, work has been easier, even if it isn’t as interesting as it used to be.

“I’m glad,” he says, offering you a smile.

Silence surrounds the two of you, only interrupted by a car honking in the street. You startle a little, and Jungkook chuckles.

You’re struck. His chuckles have healing properties, you’re convinced of it. They spark hope into you, so bright you think you’ll be blinded, retina forever burned. Yet your eyes don’t lose focus on him, even as his lips return to a neutral expression.

“What about you?” you ask as your heart picks up in your chest. “What were you up to this week?”

A small crease appears between his brows, but it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it. “I’ve been going to the gym,” he answers. “And looking around for some jobs.”

His last sentence turns the hope into a firework show inside of you. “Yeah? Any luck so far?”

You reach his car, and as he always does, he opens the door for you. You blush, something you haven’t really done with Jungkook in forever, and you’re struck thinking that this feels new.

Perhaps this will be a new chapter in your relationship with Jeon Jungkook after all.

“Thank you,” you mutter as your cheeks burn. You sit in, and he closes the door before moving around the car to get in. You watch him do so, and he sits next to you, turning the car on just long enough so that you can roll the windows down.

“Now,” he lets out, eyeing the bag. “What’s this?”

For some reason, it makes you chuckle, and he shoots you a dumb smile that makes you think you’ve delved right into the heat of summer, warmth spreading through you. It erases the winter, replaces it with blooming flowers and bright sun rays, golden sunsets and the feeling of a soft breeze threading through your hair.

Needless to say, you want to cling to it before winter comes again.

“Open and you’ll see,” you answer, your heart racing as you glance at the bag, before going back to his smile.

He nods, and he opens the bag, taking out the paper first. Your heartbeat increases tenfold because, what if he doesn’t like it?

What if he takes it as an affront that you’ve given him something photography related?

But then he sees it. Sees the lens you bought for him, and his features turn somber, but not in a bad way. They settle into a calm expression, with a softer smile that barely even tugs at the corners of his lips. He takes a deep breath, and then looks towards you again.

Teary eyes find yours, and you think maybe this is it. Maybe this is where the end will find you. Lost in the swirling depth of his gaze, in the forgotten space of you and him.

He whispers your name, emotion making it heavier than the whole world. You nod once, as no sentences take shape in your mind to reply to him. You’re not sure you have to say something – he sees in your eyes the emotions you can’t quite voice.

“You really didn’t have to,” he adds, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. “Fuck.”

He looks down at the lens, takes it out of the bag so that he can examine it thoroughly. You observe him as he does so, as if you’re watching a show. And you think, maybe he is a show – a movie meant for you to admire on and on until you go old and blindness seeps into your gaze.

“I wanted to,” you reply.

He shoots you a quick look, just as teary as the initial one. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

And then he laughs, a small vulnerable laugh that has you blinking back the wetness building up on your waterline. You echo it with one of yours, though it comes unexpectedly to you. But then again, you reckon you share the same feelings.

You always have, haven’t you? Your soul is in sync with his, has always been, no matter if distance put an end to the story of you and him. Or tried to, because he’s here today.

So are you, and if he allows it, you’ll never leave again.

“I’ve wanted this lens in forever,” he says, voice small as he turns it in his hands, looking at it in every possible angle. “You…” he trails off, meets your gaze and smiles again. “You remembered.”

You nod. “How could I forget?” You worry at your lips, shy away from his gaze to watch your wriggling fingers in your lap. “There isn’t a day I didn’t think of you.”

The revelation seems out of place, in a parked car on the side of a busy street. Yet it comes naturally to you, and meets him just as naturally. Because he nods, and then reaches for you. Grabs your jaw, gently, so that he can turn your head towards him. There’s a moment when you think the whole world holds his breath, and then he leans forward, brushes a soft kiss on your lips.

“I missed you,” he admits as he pulls away, letting go of your jaw reluctantly.

A tear slips on your cheek, and you quickly dry it. “I missed you too.”

And though the moment is heavy with emotion, you don’t want to run away from it. When you were younger, you would have fled like a deer hearing a branch crack in the woods. But today, today you want the weight of this emotion to rest upon you, like a weighted blanket that reminds you you’re alive.

The emotion lingers, past this moment and into the next. As you get the text that a table is ready for you and him, and you move back to the Korean restaurant. As you sit in front of him, watch him smile and laugh in time with you at the stupid jokes that you make.

You and him make more sense than you realized. Or maybe you forgot. Maybe the distance made you forget, but right now you think you know he’ll always be the one. And if you lose him again, he’ll be the one that got away, and you’ll search for him through every connection with temporary people.

Because there can’t be permanent people after him. He’s permanently inked into your heart, carved into your bones.

“How has your family been?” he asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, though you know he means your father, Isabel and Louis.

You know he’d never talk about your mother as part of your family.

“They’ve been great,” you answer. “Dad’s been looking to retire, or at least to have a lesser charge at work.”

Jungkook furrows his brows, but says nothing as he puts some meat on the grill between you and him. You observe him as he does so, wincing when flames erupt and he pulls his hand away – quickly enough, thankfully.

“How old is he again?” Jungkook asks after that, meeting your gaze again.

“Fifty-nine,” you reply. “But I don’t think it’s about his age. He just wants to spend more time with Louis.”

The softness that takes over his doe eyes makes you want to curl up in him, against him. Makes you want to listen to his beating heart until the day that it ceases, decades away from now. It’s a strong feeling, and you’re forced to blink away tears again.

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook gently says, and he reaches to pat your cheek.

It makes you laugh. Of course it does, and he offers you a dumb smile again. For the first time that night, you notice that yes, it does reach his eyes. The smile lights up his gaze, though there’s wariness, etched in the lines of his face.

It’s not that you missed it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it. But right in this instant, it’s all you can see, and it makes his smile fall until his eyes follow, moving to the grill. He turns the meat as you busy yourself with eating japchae.

And you don’t like this silence. You don’t like the ache that it carries, so you force yourself to try. To try and fight for him and prove that, after everything, he really is where the end will be, when it comes for you.

“What about your family?” you ask, throwing him a lifeline in the storm you’re sure he’s been plagued with too.

“They’ve been great,” he answers. “My brother’s wife is pregnant again.”

For a moment you forget about the torment between you and him as your mind zeroes in on the fact. “That’s amazing!” you let out, and your smile comes easily. “They must be so happy.”

Jungkook looks at your smile, taking a deep breath. It seems he takes a decision then, because his lips curve up, and some of the wariness fades away. He looks softer like this, younger, and your heart shines under his light.

“It really is,” he says. “I was thinking on going to Korea to see the baby when Yuri gives birth.”

In another world, you would have said you’ll go with him, but right now you don’t think you can. So, instead, you reply, “That’s a good idea. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

He nods, and then he puts some meat in your bowl, taking the two other stripes for himself. You mindlessly pick one of the pieces up, mixing it in ssamjang before eating it. You wince as you burn your tongue a little, and quickly eat the meat so that you can take a long gulp of water.

Jungkook must have expected you to burn yourself, because he laughs at your expense as he refills your glass. “You good?”

You nod. “Sorry, just burned myself.”

“Don’t apologize.”

So you don’t. For the rest of the evening, you try not to apologize. And you think you succeed – you both speak as if distance wasn’t a thing between you. As if time hasn’t come to pass between you too – as if you’ve never been apart. As if, seven years ago, the stars told the truth as they sparkled in the July night sky.

You finish eating while chatting like this, while sharing thoughts about movies you’ve seen. As he tells you about working out, about Bam and the songs he’s been listening to. He drinks a beer as you speak, and you once again take a moment to admire him.

You’d never admit it, but the beanie makes him look good. Comfortable and soft – as does the jean jacket, you reckon. But then again you know Jungkook would look good in anything, one of the advantages of him being gifted with pretty privilege.

And when he clinks his glass with yours, claiming you have to finish drinking even though you’ve only been drinking water, you still laugh with him, still down your glass as he chugs the beer. And you wonder, how long will it take to erase the distance?

Will it take more than this moment in time, to undo the distance and rebuild the closeness?

And you think, maybe it just needs now. Because as you walk out, bellies full and minds buzzing with a slight tinge of alcohol, you accept Jungkook’s extended hand. You let him guide you to his car, even though yours is parked on the other side of the restaurant. He opens the door for you again, but you hesitate for a moment.

Long enough to step closer to him instead, and pull him down so you can peck his lips. He looks surprised, and his features fall serious as you share a long look.

“Can I come over tonight?” you whisper.

He nods. “I thought it was a given.”

Of course he would. And you’re not even mad that he would. You’re rather relieved, and you can’t help yourself. You can’t help pulling him down in a more heated kiss, even though you hate public displays of affection. There are just words your lips can’t say any other way than this, and he gets it. He’ll always get you. He always will, and he kisses you with the same intensity, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other presses on the small of your back, resting flat as he pulls you in. You hold his delicate waist, sighing in the kiss as your thumbs draw idle lines on his sides.

Jungkook pulls away to press a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a small eternity that leads to you wrapping your arms around his waist. He lets you do it, and you wonder if his soul has found yours. You hope it has, for there are things your soul can say even better than your mouth can.

Apologies don’t mean much when they are shaped in words. But you think your soul could show him, and maybe, maybe tonight he’ll allow you to show him.

“Are you parked somewhere you can leave your car overnight?” he asks softly, lips moving against your forehead.

You nod. “I am.”

“Then let’s go home.”

*****

It comes as a surprise, when you realize Jungkook has moved in the same building as Kiko and Yoongi. Even more so as they run into you on the way in, knowing smiles on their lips as Jungkook holds your hand tight. They don’t really say a lot – both of them aren’t man and woman of words, except when they pour them into the lyrics of a song.

But Kiko does hug you. Does whisper in your ear that she wishes everything will be set right for the two of you, and when you pull away to meet Jungkook’s gaze, you think it already is. Especially as you’re clutching the flowers he got for you, and their sweet fragrance surrounds you.

And then they walk away, as they were leaving to go on a late walk, and you and Jungkook walk in the building, making your way to the elevator. Jungkook presses the call button, and then pulls you close to his chest so that he can press a kiss on the top of your head.

“Well, that was awkward,” he says.

You chuckle. “It wasn’t really.”

His grip tightens around you before he lets you go so that you can enter the elevator. He follows you in, and he intertwines your fingers as he presses on the fourth floor. As the elevator starts moving, you pull him closer, tilting your head back as you pout slightly.

“What?” he asks.

“Kiss me?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He immediately dives in, and you’re surprised with the strength of the kiss. As if he’s pouring his entire soul in it, and you think maybe he is. After all, you kiss him back with all the fire in you, and it’s burning brighter than it ever has.

Unfortunately, the moment is short-lived as you reach his floor and the doors slide open. He pulls away, presses a kiss on your forehead as if he wasn’t sucking on your tongue a moment ago, and then he pulls you behind him as he walks towards his door.

It’s further down the hall, and you wait excitedly as he unlocks. Though you’re a little worried about seeing Bam again – what if he doesn’t recognize you?

Which, you reckon was a stupid thought, because the dog comes barging out, tail wagging wildly, when Jungkook manages to get the door open.

“Bamie!” you exclaim, and Jungkook carefully takes the bouquet of flowers from your hand to allow you to bend down and pet the dog.

He licks at your face, whimpering as if he thought he’d lost you. It brings tears to your eyes, and you giggle like a kid as you pet him, rubbing his short fur as he keeps running all around you.

“I think he’s happy to see you,” Jungkook deadpans, and you burst out laughing.

You look up to try and look at Jungkook, but Bam jumps in your vision, which makes you giggle again. And then, something magical happens. Something you didn’t think you’d hear again – Jungkook laughs that childish laugh of his, the one that usually only comes forth when he’s really happy.

You act by pure instinct. You stand up, wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck. His giggle dies against your lips, but he’s quick to kiss you back as he snakes his inked arm around your back. You let out a breathy sound, and then burst into a fit of giggles as Bam jumps on you.

“I think he demands attention,” you state and Jungkook nods as you part, though he keeps his arm close to you.

“We should take him on a walk,” he says, and you notice his cheeks are flushed red. You reckon yours probably are too, but there’s something about seeing the effect that you have on him, even after everything, that makes you come undone.

“I’m so happy to be with you right now,” you murmur.

He gulps, eyes shining suddenly. “Me too.” He adds your name softly, before repeating, “Me too.”

You walk in his apartment after that, to put the flowers in a large glass of water since Jungkook doesn’t own any vase. Meanwhile, he disappears in what you assume is the bedroom, only to reappear with his camera. To your surprise, he’s already fitted the new lens on it.

It’s endearing. There’s something so incredibly endearing at the thought that your gift is loved already, that Jungkook already wants to use it. It makes a line of silver appear in your eyes, and you don’t even blink it away as Jungkook angles the camera towards you to take a picture.

“Huh,” he lets out as he looks at the picture. He adjusts some settings, and before he’s had time to take another picture of you, Bam comes up to you, jumping up. His two paws rest on your waist as you laugh, and that’s when Jungkook snaps the picture.

You glance his way to see him smiling softly, and then he nods appreciatively. “I’m going to use this lens way too much,” he comments.

It makes you laugh. “I’m glad.”

And then you’re going outside with the dog. Jungkook brings the camera, and he snaps pictures of the surroundings, of you and Bam. He even takes one of the three of you, though you reckon the angle is clearly unflattering.

It doesn’t feel like it matters. Because you’re struck realizing that this, this moment matters. It matters enough for him to want to commit it to memory, and you wonder if he’s going to add it to all the frames you left behind.

But then again, did he even put them up in his new apartment? From what you could see when you were in, there was no picture visible.

It aches, but then he tells you to smile and you do. You immediately do, because there’s nothing easier than smiling when you’re with him like this. The wariness still clings to him, but it’s barely visible, like a mirage that’s about to fade in the distance.

“Stop taking pictures of me,” you say as he takes another one.

He lets out a noncommittal sound, shrugging his shoulder. “Why?”

You pout as blush creeps on your cheek. “You haven’t taken this many pictures of me since… Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “I took more pictures on our first trip to Korea.”

A beautiful trip, where you’d met his family for the first time. You had gotten along with everyone well, even though your Korean was poor. You got better through the years, but you still have a long way before you can speak in Korean without feeling like everyone is going to judge you.

“That’s beside the point,” you mumble. You motion towards Bam, who’s patiently sitting next to you. “I’m pretty sure he’s done.”

Jungkook pouts, and butterflies take flight in your stomach. “Sorry,” he apologizes.

You’re not quite sure why.

“I just…” he adds, and then shadows cloud over his features. They resemble the sorrow that was surrounding him last weekend, and just like that you think summer has ended. “I haven’t used my camera since…”

You don’t need for him to say it, because you know exactly what he was going to say. Still, it hurts, and your gaze drops to the ground.

“Gosh,” you whisper. You let out a strangled sound. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just grabs your hand, raising it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“We said we’d try,” he reminds you, or maybe he’s trying to remind himself. “Let’s try. For real. So no more apologies.”

“I feel like you deserve thousands of apologies and more,” you admit.

He kisses your forehead, and it’s against your skin that he whispers, “I just want us to move on from what happened.”

You nod, wrapping an arm around his waist to loosely hug him. Unfortunately, Bam pulls on his leash, and you have to let go of Jungkook far too quickly. Still, you meet his gaze, nodding your head again.

“I want to move on too,” you tell him. “If I could, I’d erase everything but…”

He holds out his hand for you to interlace your fingers with his. “But it’s in the past.”

He’s right, yet you see the wariness. It’s still there, though you think soon the mist will dissipate with the rays of the sun. So you follow him in, let him feed Bam before he shows you around his small apartment. It feels like him, in ways you can’t really describe, and you want to stay. You think, if he’d ask you’d never leave again.

“I like it,” you tell him as he finishes the tour in his bedroom, which is only occupied by an unmade bed with white sheet and a small night table with his pair of glasses on top. You notice the LED lights, and a smile moves to your lips. “Please tell me these still shine purple like they did at the house with the boys.”

Jungkook nods, offering you a grin. “Yeah. I thought it’d be great to have a… reminder of a simpler time.”

He turns them on, and you get it. You get it so much you grab the lapels of his jean jacket, pulling him closer to you. His lips are upon yours in an instant, hungry, insistent, ravishing a kiss that makes you light-headed. Especially as he grabs your face, holds on to it like it’s a life buoy in a storm. The piercings push into your bottom lip, their colder temperature making your tongue dart to them, as if to warm them.

Jungkook groans, and then kicks the door of his bedroom shut. He’s had to stop kissing you for that, but he’s kissing you again half a second later, and it’s even more intense, more desperate.

You let go of his jacket, hands blindly moving to his belt as he pushes his tongue in your mouth. You suck on it, moan lightly when he groans again. You fumble with the buckle, but soon enough you get it undone, and you move on to the button of his jeans.

You just want him. Need to feel his body against you, in you. And clearly he needs the same thing, as he pulls away from the hug to take your shirt off. Right as you get the button undone, and then unzip his jeans. You slip your hand in, letting out a breathy sound as you find him already hard. He sits heavy in your hand, and you squeeze him unabashedly.

“Fuck,” he curses, head thrown back as his eyes close. “Baby.”

The pet name has you drop to your knees, and you pull his pants down just enough for his dick to spring free. He doesn’t try to stop you, and you admire him for a time. Admire the brown base of his tip, the veins that run along his length. A bead of precum appears on his slit as you look, and you’re quick to lick it clean. The salty taste fills your mouth, and you look up at him, to see him watching down on you, strands of hair falling in his eyes where they’ve escaped the confines of his beanie.

“Suck it, mmh?” he says.

You grab him, jerking him off loosely. “Yeah?”

His eyes darken behind the strands of hair. He bites at his piercings, cocking his head to the side. And then he’s glancing away and to your surprise, he asks, “Can I take pictures of you while you suck my dick?”

You swirl your tongue around his tip, and he bucks his hips forward. In answer, you sit back on your heels, looking up at him innocently. “Right now?” He nods. “You want to take pictures of me while I suck your dick?”

“If you want to,” he answers. “If you don’t want to it’s fine.”

You close your lips around his tip, sucking once. “You’ll keep the pictures to yourself?”

You don’t know why you’re agreeing. Only know that the lust in Jungkook’s gaze is making you forget everything about common sense. But then again, you highly doubt that Jungkook would ever do anything to harm you.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open as he was about to answer, but when you take his dick as far as you can, he’s silenced. And he’s hard in your mouth, a rod of steel you’ve missed since last week.

“Yeah,” he finally breathes out.

You sit back on your heels. “Then it’s fine.”

He smirks, nodding his head as he finishes taking off his jeans and underwear. “Wait here.”

You purse your lips as he walks away, and you watch him leaving his room to head to where he left his camera. You patiently wait, feeling shy even though you have nothing to be shy about. This is just Jungkook – it’s not like he hasn’t seen you half-naked and on your knees for him before.

It takes him a moment to come back, but when he does, it’s to sit on bed. He’s still hard, and he leans back on a hand as you move closer.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me, okay?” he gently says as you run a hand along his thighs.

You glance at his scar, the familiar knot of skin giving you more confidence than you expected. “You’re going to jerk off to these pictures, mmh?”

He gulps, angling his camera towards you as you lean closer to his dick. You lick at it, and the shutter goes off.

It has you dripping in your panties, unexpectedly.

“So what if I do?” he asks as you grab his dick, stroking him.

The question is rhetorical, and your answer is to wrap your lips around his cock as your eyes flutter shut. You swirl your tongue around the tip and hollow your cheeks as you go down. You hold the gag reflex in as he hits the back of your throat, and you can’t help but moan as you hear his camera again.

You flick your tongue at his frenulum on the way out, and then you stroke his dick as you sit back. You move one hand to his balls, squeezing gently before thinking better of it and leaning forward, sucking on one. He grunts, and you keep your eyes locked on the camera as you jerk him off faster.

Another picture added to the list. And you’re dripping wet. Already you want to sink on his dick, want him to be so deep inside of you that you’re just one.

“Kook…” you murmur, and then you’re back to sucking on his dick, though this time you make sure to squeeze his balls too, the way that he likes it. Hard, but not too hard, and you’re choking around his dick in no time as he starts fucking up in your mouth, clearly forgetting about the pictures.

It goes like this for a while, with his dick growing impossibly hard. Your jaw aches by the time he pushes down on your head, hand lost in your hair. You gag, and he moans loudly. You think he’s coming, but he somehow manages to keep it in before pulling you off.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.” He breathes for a moment, as you wipe your mouth and chin from the drool.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. You glance at the camera. “Any good pics?”

That brings him back to the land of lust and passion, and he offers you a smirk. “We can look at them after. I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, because you know you’ve barely started. Know you’re likely to be unable to walk tomorrow. Because the lust in his gaze hasn’t shone so bright in years, yes, but also because you almost lost each other.

Or maybe you have, and this too is just a dip in the past.

You stand up, hands snaking to your back so that you can unclasp your bra. Jungkook watches you carefully, before taking a picture as you massage your breasts. It makes you bite at your lower lip, and you look at his hard dick where it rests on his stomach.

“Can I ride you?” you ask breathlessly.

He smirks. “You don’t want me to finger you first?”

Instead of replying, you finish undressing, taking off your pants and panties at the same time. You then push on his jean jacket, and he takes that as a cue to remove it. You motion to the shirt too as he was about to lean back on his hand and he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. When you nod, he takes it off too, and it makes his beanie fall.

His hair is a mess, and you can’t resist but step forward so that you can push it back, though you think the jet black strands are currently untamable. You give up after a few seconds, pushing on his chest so that he lies back.

His eyes are on you as you climb on his lap, and you grind along his length, coating it with your juices.

“Shit,” he lets out again. “You’re fucking dripping.”

You nod, moving up just enough so that you can grab the base of his dick. His tip prods your entrance, and he pulls at his piercings as you wait there, teasing him with a corner smile on your lips.

“Fucking tease,” he growls.

It undoes something in you. Because yes, you wanted to tease him. You wanted him to beg you to fuck him, but now you sink down on him, until he reaches your cervix. Even the pain of him hitting the back of your pussy doesn’t make you move, and your walls clench around his dick as he grunts out a curse, followed by your name.

“Kook,” you purr. “Fuck me good.”

He chuckles as you circle your hips, and his free hand rests on your hip as he angles his camera to take a picture of you again. “You can’t do the work?”

He says it condescendingly, and you find enough challenge in you to start bouncing up and down. It shuts him up, and the following moment is spent with you fucking yourself on him as he groans under you, your breathy moans filling his room. Soon enough he stops taking pictures, putting his camera down next to him so that he can hold your hips with his two hands.

And then he’s fucking up in you, and you cry out as you lean forward, wrapping an arm around his neck while your other hand holds on to his shoulder.

You’re a mess, yet your heart clenches in your chest as he fucks you like this. As you remember a land of winter, that somehow doesn’t feel as distant as it should. Maybe because of Jungkook’s wariness tonight, or maybe because you know all good things come to an end.

The thought douses your arousal, until Jungkook stills deep inside of you and whispers, “I want to be with you, like this, forever.”

You nuzzle your face in his neck and suck a mark on his skin. “Me too.”

And then he’s fucking you again, hard and quick. He holds you close, grunts in your ear as you lick at his neck. It’s an abundance of sensation, and your brain focuses on the way he hits your clit whenever he pushes up. Whenever his hips snap against you, and soon there’s an orgasm in the distance.

It finds you when he lets you sit up so that you can fuck yourself on him again, and his thumb finds your clit to press expert circles on it. It finds you hard, and your pussy spasms repeatedly on his dick. He helps you through the high, and when you finally come down, a dumb smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“Fuck,” you let out.

“Felt good?” he asks with a teasing tone to his voice, the one you know he only reserves for you.

To hear it right now makes you love him so much you think you’ll die on the spot. Because yes, tonight has been great. Yes, it’s almost been like before, but what if he doesn’t take you back?

What if, in the end, this was just an extended moment meant to be closure for you and him?

“Yes,” you still reply.

Because no matter how much your heart aches in your chest, you’ll never lie to him.

“Good,” he says. He sits up, wraps an arm around your waist to steady you as he brings his mouth to yours.

You go in for the kiss. Meet him halfway, and you moan against him as he moves under you, albeit clumsily from the position.

His lips will make you drunk. Make you dumb, make you forget that there’s a world outside the door. That, in that world, you might not belong to him anymore. But then again, you think you do. To you, you always will.

“Lie on your side,” he says after a moment, lips moving against yours.

Jungkook pecks your lips one last time before you move, and then he kneels behind you. His dick prods your entrance again, and he grabs his camera to snap another picture.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praises as he pushes the tip in, taking another picture. “Such a good little fucking slut.”

And then he pushes all the way in, until all of him is embedded in you. You grip the sheets as a broken moan escapes your lips. He holds your hip with one hand, fingers digging in the supple skin as he fucks you hard, chasing his own orgasm.

He looks good doing it. Long hair sticking to the sweat on his face, eyes narrowed in pleasure, mouth open as soft grunts echo through the room. The purple light makes his honey skin glow somehow, and you feel another orgasm reaching for you, though it doesn’t hit right away. It just feels so good – as he always does – and you can’t help but clench your walls against him.

That’s what undoes him. He comes, ropes of white painting your insides, as he swears and says your name in a litany that almost makes you go over the edge too.

“Baby,” he says at the end.

It feels like a confirmation. Like a confirmation that, maybe, maybe you will work this time around. That maybe distance won’t destroy you again – maybe you’ll grow old and gray by his side.

“You came so much,” you say as you feel his hot cum sitting deep inside of you.

He pulls at his piercing, nodding once. And then he pulls out, and he takes a picture of the cum dripping out of you. He decides to push it back in, curling a finger inside of you, and your walls clench as you moan.

“Touch your clit,” he tells you.

You don’t need to be told twice. You quickly move your fingers to the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing quick circles on it as he pushes another digit inside of you, fingering you until the second orgasm finally finds you.

You cry out his name, a broken plea that doesn’t really make any sense as your vision turns white. And it stays that way for a long time, blinding you until ecstasy is swimming in your blood. And when you come down from the high, all that you can think is how much you missed him.

“Kook,” you breathe out.

“Baby…”

He puts the camera away, and then bends to press a kiss on your lips. It’s soft, and you grab his face to hold him in place, not even wincing as a bead of his sweat rolls on your cheek. You kiss him with a heart heavy with emotions, trying to show him that you’re never going to leave again. When he pulls away, you notice his teary gaze.

“Can we be together again?” he asks, and you watch in horror as a tear rolls on his cheek. You sit up, drying it with your thumb.

And you don’t care if it was too quick. Don’t care that there’s a high chance it won’t last. You still answer, “Yes, Kook. Yes we can.”

He smiles, nodding his head. “Let’s take a shower. I want to hold you tonight.”

You want to cry from the statement, want to tell him that you wish he could hold you forever, but the words get lodged in your throat. Instead, you follow him as he gets up, interlacing your fingers with his as he leads you to the bathroom, uncaring that his seed is rolling down your inner thighs.

He turns the shower on, and soon enough you’re standing under the hot water. He watches you carefully, presses a kiss on your forehead when you stand in front of him. You wrap your arms around his waist, holding him as close as you physically can. Even then it’s not enough – you want him under your skin, or to be under his.

You don’t think you’d survive being parted from him again. Maybe that’s why you let him fuck you again when you return to his room, slower this time, lips entwined in a never-ending embrace. Love flows between you and him, and it’s etched in the way your bodies move together, in the way you’ve been molded perfectly for him, and him for you.

You wonder if outside, the stars are shining. And you’re struck thinking that tonight, tonight they’ve aligned for you and him again, the universe agreeing for this second chance between you and him.

So you hold him close, and pray that this time around, forever is waiting for you.

Saturday, September 9th

Jungkook wakes up slowly. Softly, the same way waves hit the shore at low tide. He’s unusually warm, and he frowns as he shifts, trying to turn on his side. Then, he realizes his arm is stuck under something. His very dead arm, and he cracks an eye open.

That’s when he remembers that it’s you. You’re the one sleeping next to him, mouth slightly agape as you breathe softly. You’re also the one crushing his arm, and he tentatively clenches and unclenches his fist to try to get the blood circulation back on track. It doesn’t really work, so then he stops, figuring he’s going to have to make you move somehow.

But you look peaceful, in the light of the rising sun. Serene, like there’s never been anything wrong in this world. This morning, Jungkook wants to believe it. Wants to believe that happiness is all he’s ever known – that accidents, heartbreak and pain are all constructs of his imagination.

He’s too realistic for that. Or perhaps the breakup has made him pessimistic. Because the peace of the moment doesn’t really linger, and he’s stuck reliving the moment you left, that night in May. Stuck reliving the wait for you to come back, only you never did.

Or maybe you did, months later. Maybe you really are back, and this time you’ll stay.

You mumble something in your sleep, startling him. It takes him a few seconds to realize you’re still deep asleep, but when you move he quickly does too, pulling his arm from under your head. You frown, lick your lips, and then your features smooth out as you return to your peaceful slumber.

He turns on his side, watching you carefully. He’s aware that watching you sleep is creepy, but he can’t help it. Not when his bed has been empty for months.

He stays like this for a while, unable to fall back asleep. Because, what if you’re gone when he wakes up again? He doesn’t want to risk it.

Unable to help himself, he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. You sigh, and he’s afraid he’s woken you up. When a small smile appears on your lips, his heart skips a beat, yet you don’t show any other sign that you’re awake. He assumes you aren’t, and then decide to take a picture of this moment.

He feels like he’s going to need it. Like all the pictures he took yesterday – he was desperate to commit to memory as much of you as he possibly could. He feels bad – he said he’d give you a chance, he is giving you a chance, but some part of him is just waiting for it to blow up in his face.

Maybe if he expects it it will hurt less.

He carefully grabs his camera where he left it on his night table. He doesn’t dare take a look at the pictures you took yesterday, a little ashamed that he asked you to do that in the first place. Silently, he takes a picture of you, and then puts the camera away.

Only, the reminder of the kind of pictures he’d find in the camera was enough to make his blood stir, and he picks it back up almost immediately.

And then there you are, in all your glory. Beautiful as ever, pussy filled to the brim with his cum, with his cock. Tits squeezed in your hands, in his, and his dick goes rock hard as blood leaves his head.

He wants you again, and he wants you now. He doesn’t care that it’s early morning, that he never liked waking up early. All he can do is put the camera down and slide closer to you. He pulls you back into his embrace, and you sigh softly as he wraps his arms around you.

Jungkook holds you tighter, nuzzling his face in your hair. The inebriating scent of your shampoo fills his nose, and his dick twitches in his underwear.

You hum, and he holds you tighter. “Morning,” he says, voice low and gravelly.

You make another sound that can pass as a hum, but you move against him, until you’ve wrapped an arm around his middle. There’s a moment where silence reigns again, and Jungkook is afraid you’ve fallen back asleep, but then you say, “Morning.”

He smiles. “Slept well?” he asks, kissing the top of your head.

He’s convinced you’re smiling against him as you say, “Want to sleep more.”

He whines, which earns him a chuckle from you that makes the wariness settle back in, even as his heart feels full in his chest.

It never felt full without you. Another reason why he needs to be ready for the blow, whenever it comes.

“I want you,” he admits. “Can’t sleep.”

You hum again, and your hand slides down his back. You squeeze his ass, and then move the hand back up. “You’re going to have to try.”

He whines, lips jutting out in a pout. “Boring.”

At that you laugh, pushing him slightly until you’re able to look him in the eye. He keeps the pout on, knowing that it always worked with you before.

“It’s not even morning,” you point out.

“The sun is up.”

You roll your eyes, though your lips are curved upwards, your gaze beaming as you hold his. “We fucked twice last night.”

He shrugs, rolling on his back so that he can stare up at the ceiling. He pulls at his piercing, the new one, and then turns his head towards you again. “Yeah, and?”

“Surely you don’t need to fuck right now,” you tease.

He frowns, looking away again. “Not my fault if I haven’t fucked since… May. Last weekend doesn’t count.”

“I’m pretty sure it does,” you say, laughing lightly. You prop yourself up on an elbow, blinking away the tiredness as you meet his gaze again. “And besides,” you pause, features turning confused as a crease appears between your brows. “Haven’t you fucked while we were…” you trail off, motioning vaguely around you.

And then something occurs to Jungkook. Something bad – maybe the explosion was closer than he expected it to be. Maybe he’s been standing in the radius of impact, waiting for the bomb to go off. And maybe your sleep deprived brain forgot the measure of protection, maybe it forgot he was standing there.

Because your eyes go round with fear, right as a drop of lead solidifies in Jungkook’s stomach.

“What?” he lets out.

What a stupid question to ask. He wants to beat himself up, because he knows.

He knows now that you’ve been with someone else. Why else would you be surprised that he hasn’t?

“I’m just saying…” you try, but it’s too late.

The bomb has gone off, and all that’s left is rumbles.

“Get out,” Jungkook says, and somehow it’s lacking bite. It’s lacking anger, lacking any signs that he cares for you.

It surprises even himself – doesn’t he care? Or is there nothing left of him in the aftermath of the explosion?

“Kook.”

“You’ve fucked someone else,” he states. When you don’t say anything, just watch him in horror, he sits up in bed. “Get out.”

“Come on,” you let out this time, following him up. You wrap yourself in the blanket, his blanket, and he wants to rip it from your body. Doesn’t want anything that’s his to be in contact with you anymore. “It didn’t mean anything,” you say, and you’re suddenly blinking back tears. “It was just one-time.”

“Frankly, I don’t want to know,” Jungkook says, and he really doesn’t. Doesn’t want to think about another man’s hand on you, or he’ll break.

He’s done breaking for you.

You don’t fight the tears, as you understand that the end really has come. At least that’s what he thinks happens – you just sit there, gaze heavy with tears until they fall, little droplets that carry a world of regret.

After all, the distance really was enough to break you up, wasn’t it?

Jungkook watches you, surprised that his heart is not clenching in his chest. No, he feels nothing as he watches you – he’s already cried enough for you.

“We were broken up,” you murmur, holding his gaze. “It’s not like I cheated.”

At that he laughs, shaking his head. If you can’t understand that he’s done, that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore, then he’ll do it the harsh way.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he says. “I couldn’t be with someone else. I tried, and you were all I could think of. And…”

“You tried!” you interject. “You tried and you’re giving me shit for it?”

He gets up, trying to put distance between you and him, as if that’ll make the fight easier.

“I still chose not to do it,” he coldly states. “The girl was willing, she even kissed me and…”

“You kissed someone else?”

He laughs again, the absurdity of the situation dawning upon him. “Yeah? Tae set me up on a date, and the girl kissed me at the end and I told her I couldn’t. I didn’t fuck someone else.”

The way he’s throwing the blame at you feels selfish, especially as more tears join those already sliding down your cheeks.

“How is that fair, that you’re mad at me when you literally went on a date with someone else?” You pause, choking on a sob as you try to dry your cheeks. “Come on, Kook, it meant nothing.”

“Who did you fuck anyway?” he asks.

For a reason unknown, your tears stop. Entirely, there a moment and gone the next. “Why do you want to know?”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t fucking want to know, and he scoffs as he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands. “Get out,” he says again, still as stern and void of emotion.

“It was Harrison,” you still say. “I switched departments because I didn’t want to see him again after that.”

Now, there’s an inkling of pain tickling the carcass of his dead heart. As if there was still more, for him to feel, even after everything. As if pain is but a constant of his life now, and he thinks maybe it is.

“Your colleague?” he repeats, dumbfounded.

He’s met Harrison a couple of times, throughout your relationship. He’s always thought the guy was decent, but now something very ugly settles deep in his core. Something that tells him, ‘Hey, maybe he’s only ever wanted to fuck her, maybe he was waiting for his chance’.

The words are on a loop in his head, and he doesn’t even think he can see you anymore. All that he sees is Harrison with his hands on you, in his ever-too creative mind.

He startles as you put a hand on his arm. He shrugs your grip off, steps away from you. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Kook, I swear, please listen to me,” you beg, and now you’re crying again.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to.” At that he shuts his eyes, runs a hand on his forehead and then through his hair. “I really don’t want to. I don’t want you to be here anymore.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” you say, an echo of something you said earlier. Though this time you say it differently, as if you too sensed the finality in Jungkook’s tone.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever want you to be around anymore. He was stupid to give you a chance after you broke his heart – you chose to break up, months ago. Why would it be different this time around?

“It doesn’t matter,” he tells you, as softly as he can. Because he knows you’ll break even more, and some dark, twisted part of him is satisfied that this time, this time he’s the one with all the power over you. “I’m done, Y/n.”

The words sound like thunder, in all their calmness. In all their softness – or maybe that was the sound of your heart breaking. Whatever it was, Jungkook really is done. He wants you gone, wants to be able to break in the quiet peace of his home.

A home you aren’t a part of anymore.

You nod. He expects you to fight more, but you nod. Choke out a sob, turn around, and start putting your clothes on. He figures he should dress too, so he does, picking up discarded items of clothing on the floor, not caring that they probably aren’t clean. All that he cares about is to get you out of his apartment, out of his sight.

And when you’re ready, he walks you to the front door. Lets you say goodbye to Bam, a crushing parallel to the time you’ve said goodbye in May. Bam still looks confused, and Jungkook feels bad, for a moment. Because you were the dog’s mother – he’s been looking for you ever since May. Jungkook can only hope that, this time around, Bam understands that it’s farewell.

When you straighten, you mutter an apology. Jungkook ignores it, holds your gaze expecting something to hurt, but he’s just empty. Empty and tired, and all he wants is to go back to sleep and to never wake up again.

“I can’t let you go,” you let out, voice stark with pain.

He shrugs. “You should have realized that in May.”

You close your eyes, and you look so fragile. Like glass – it never survives the shockwave of an explosion, doesn’t it?

“Please,” you beg. “Let me make it up to you.”

He laughs bitterly. “How? You’re going to go back in time and not get fucked by him? You’re going to go back in time and not break up?”

You look like you want to curse him, and he almost wants you to. He wants you to fight, wants you to make him feel something other than this emptiness. Instead, you shake even more, sobs racking through you.

“I wish I could.”

“Leave.”

“Jungkook, I swear,” you insist. “Let’s not lose each other over this.”

He wets his lips, tongue pushing in the inside of his cheek next. “We’ve lost each other already. It’s time we realize that we have.”

And that does it. You fall silent, defeat washing over you like a tsunami wave – there’s nothing left after its passage, and you look tired, sick, standing there right next to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize again.

He shrugs. “It’s whatever. The past is the past.”

You look like you want to say something else, but somehow you remain silent. Somehow you look at him for a time, bloodshot eyes taking in his features as if it’s the last time you’ll ever see him again. He surprises himself by doing it too, mostly by instinct. Because right now, looking at you makes him want to be sick, but he knows that it won’t last.

He knows that the echo of pain in the distance is a good indicator that he still has it in him to break for you. That he’ll break for you forever, perhaps. Because he doesn’t think that there’s an end to you and him. It’s always going to be a cycle, and it’ll never end well.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you murmur.

He offers you a tight-lipped smile. “Goodbye.”

All he can do is hope you know it means farewell.

Thursday, October 5th

You used to love fall. The cooler weather, the long walks that smell like soil and fallen leaves and pumpkins. Nowadays, you hate fall.

You hate it because he loved it, and every reminder of him is poison to you. And though the season is still early, the days are getting shorter, and the longer the night, the more you drown in thoughts.

You haven’t slept in weeks. Have barely eaten too, and you’ve been off from work for a week. It’s allowed you to stay in, to just sit and try to breathe, hoping that it’ll help.

That it’ll fix something that’s never going to be fixed.

You’re lost. Lost in a town that used to be your home, lost in memories that used to be beauty brought to life – now, you’re seeing the ugliness in beauty. Because beauty is temporary, and like all temporary things in life it doesn’t last long enough. Beauty, and the ending temporality of it, leaves nothing when it goes but a bitter taste in mouth.

Perhaps that’s why you haven’t been able to eat properly.

You haven’t spoken to anyone, since the early morning he asked you to leave. Yet for some reason, you’ve felt the need to go outside today. To walk around, aimlessly perhaps, but you couldn’t stay inside a second longer. Too many tears were shed in your apartment, and you hoped the cool weather would help you feel better.

It does, a little. Because you feel like you’re breathing him in every time you inhale, and then carry him out on an exhale. You feel close to him, in a distant way that’s bound to only make you break harder tonight, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care. You do hate the reminders of him, but you need them. Viscerally, as he was the oxygen in your lungs for so long.

You’re going to have to learn how to live without him, one step at a time.

So you take another step, let your instinct carry you where you have to go. Maybe it knows how to heal.

The sun is descending in the sky, and the absence of clouds lead to a sea of azure you’d swim in if you could. You’d soar up high, so high that there isn’t oxygen anymore, and maybe then the pain would cease. You’d ride a sunray into the night, where you’d finally be able to fall into a well-deserved slumber.

As you look up, a tiny bird flies across the sky, a small speck of brown that goes so fast you think you imagine it. Like the years with him – they went by so quickly, the crushing wheel of time spinning down the slope towards the end.

Seven years ago, almost to the day, you kissed him on a hotel roof lost in Chicago, under clouds painted with fire. Who knew seven years later you’d be trying to live without him, clearly failing at it.

You sigh, pushing the thought away as you reach a crossing. You wait for the light to turn green, then follow the parallel white lines across the road. You avoid a pile of leaves, though a strong gust of wind makes some of them swirl around you, spinning like Mother Nature’s tiny dancers.

The foliage in the trees along the street is golden and red, bright colours that look out of place in the bleakness of your heart. You follow them, wonder if they know that they are about to die. The answer is one you’ll never have, and so you walk under the trees, the autumn breeze playing with your hair.

You don’t know where your steps have been carrying you. You’ve long gone past the places you usually go to, heading towards the middle of the city. The no man’s land between you and Jungkook, spread wide in a maze of streets you want to get lost in.

So you do. You press on, walk until the sun becomes a ball of melted gold nearing the horizon, and it’s on the corner of a street that a glint in a vitrine catches your eyes.

You eye the rings, crafted by an expert hand. Bands of gold, with diamonds and emeralds and gems you don’t know the name of. They look expensive, elegant, and you wonder if you would have had a ring on your finger one day, bought by him.

Recklessly, you walk into the shop, wishing to peruse its vitrines, hoping they’ll offer you dreams to survive the night. And you can almost see it – a ring on your finger, a proposal under a star-sprinkled sky, an intimate wedding for you and him. A dance, always and forever, of love shared like a secret in the night. Your secret, as the end would have one day come for you and him, an eternity of life later. You would have been old and grey, yet your love would have been young and eternal.

In this dream, he would have never taken the job overseas. You’d have stayed here, together, growing old by his side. You would have gotten more dogs, maybe even a cat, and you’d have lived happily ever after.

You wonder if, in a parallel universe to yours, the dream is unfolding. If parallel-universe you has the chance to experience it, and you think she does. You think she does, and the love is so strong it’s shaking through universes, picking you up like you’re just a leaf in an autumn wind.

Because why else, then, do you find yourself buying a gold band? Too big for you, masculine in its simplicity. Something you think he would have worn, had you been in that other universe.

You sit on a bench outside, after, as the last of the sunlight finally fades away, replaced by a blue dusk that matches your mood far better than the sun ever could. You have no idea where you are in the city, no will to brave the trek back home – you’ve been out for hours at this point.

You grab your phone, long forgotten in your purse. You haven’t touched it all day, and to your surprise you’ve received a couple of texts while you were walking, all by the same person.

[04:37 pm] Jimin: hey, this is going to sound crazy [04:37 pm] Jimin: and I’m really sorry to be telling u this [04:37 pm] Jimin: can u go check on JK? [04:38 pm] Jimin: he’s been unreachable for days and at this point I think he’ll only talk to u

You want to text him back to fuck off, to leave you alone, yet you hold on tighter to the velvety box in which the gold band hides. After all, even if you’ve received the texts hours ago, you’re realizing perhaps that that’s where your steps have been leading you anyway.

It’s stupid – he asked you to leave. Hasn’t contacted you once since then, and it’s like the wedding and the week after never happened. Like you’ve been broken up for months, like you barely know him anymore. He’s a stranger now, in your life, something you’d never thought he’d become someday.

And why would he talk to you? Why would he want you in his vicinity, when he made it clear as spring water that he was done, that the end had come to pass between you and him?

But if the end has come, why is that you’ve been feeling like you’re surrounded by him, today? Like you’ll always be – just a drop of water in the sea of him. Perhaps you are weak, to feel for him the way that you do, but seven years ago, the cataclysm that started you and him shook you, and its repercussions are still felt today. Will be felt until your dying breath, until all that’s left of you is stardust.

So you let your feet carry you, weightless in the way that you’re moving forward. Like you are once again but a leaf carried by the wind, and you can only hope that it’ll let you land in the right place.

You don’t really know how you make it to his building. Perhaps you were closer than you initially thought you were – all that you know is that you recognize the building, and that you sense his proximity through the walls.

Your heart reaches for him, longs for him in a way you can’t ignore anymore. Because you’ve been dead, without him. Just a shell of what you should be, of what you want to be. Because yes, you could learn to live without him. After everything that you’ve been through, you know well enough that you are strong enough to do it.

But you don’t want it. You want that dream you’ve found in the jewelry shop, want to make it possible. Want to prove that, no matter who would ever get close to you, he’ll always be the owner of your heart.

So you walk in. Reach the elevator, press on the call button. Then on the fourth floor, reminiscing the night you rode the elevator in his company, right before the fall. The new fall, a harshest one that made you reach those low levels of hell that living without him are consisted of.

You awaken when you are standing in front of his door. You think you can almost hear him inside, moving around through his home. You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat, where you’re standing. If he too can tell that you’re nearby once again, even though you shouldn’t have been.

Even though farewells have come to pass between you and him.

You don’t knock. You don’t have to. To your surprise, the door opens in front of you, slowly, before you’ve even managed to raise your arm to knock. Then his voice fills your ear, as he tells Bam to wait. You just stand there, dumbfounded, and then his eyes move from the floor to your face, and his mouth falls open.

Bam jumps on you, tail wagging wildly as you take a step back from the force of impact. You pet him on the head, pushing him back to the floor as you try to focus on Jungkook.

And then it dawns upon you that you have no clue what to tell him. You reckon you maybe should have prepared something in advance, because you’re wordless standing in front of him.

“Hey,” you eventually say, and you think the world has time to revolve around the sun three times before you manage to say something else. “How are you?”

His mouth slowly shuts, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He pulls on Bam’s leash, tells the dog to sit, before he finally addresses you. Just your name, and the way he says it make it sound formal, like you’re just a stranger.

“What are you doing here?” he asks after another moment.

You look down at your hands. At the box you’re holding, and his eyes follow after you. “I was thinking of you, today,” you admit.

He sighs, and his eyes shut. “You were?”

You nod as he meets your gaze again. “When am I not?” Your comment doesn’t ask for a response, and he doesn’t offer you one either. “Jimin told me you’ve been unreachable.”

“Yeah,” he lets out. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh.” You try to look behind him, as if you’ll find his reason to be busy there. “Can I talk to you?”

He says your name, this time like an apology. “I told you we were done.”

You shrug. “I know.” You gulp, fingers playing with the velvet box as if it’ll help ground you. “Can I walk Bam with you, then?”

He looks conflicted but he gives in. Says yes in a defeated way that rips your heart from your chest, in a way that makes you cling to the ring box even more, hoping that it’ll offer you salvation.

Being outside in the early fall evening with him feels like the Earth has finally returned to its normal axis. You don’t say anything, unable to find the words, and he remains silent too. You just enjoy his company, watching over Bam as he sniffs at plants before peeing on a pole.

Stars are twinkling in the sky up above. The breeze is still soft tonight, caressing your features in a gentle embrace that resembles the one he’d used to offer you, though it’s far colder than his. You spare a glance at him – he’s already looking, and he doesn’t look away as your gazes connect.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again.

You wet your lips. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“How is that an explanation?” A shrug of your shoulders is all the answer he gets. He scoffs, shakes his head slightly, and then his head turns toward the door of his building. “I have hot chocolate inside,” he tells you, once again sounding defeated. “Do you want a cup?”

Turns out salvation wasn’t to be found in the velvet box you’re holding, but in the gentle angles of Jungkook’s features, behind his big doe eyes that will forever feel like home to you.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you tell him, voice soft. “I just wanted to… talk.”

“Then let’s talk over a cup of hot chocolate,” he says.

Which is what you do. You follow him in, feeling like you’re out of place in his life. Like he’s only giving this to you because of what you used to be to one another. Yet you don’t care. You’re slowly finding words, your brain shaping them into sentences to change an ending you can’t come to terms with.

Jungkook prepares the hot chocolate in silence, as you sit at his small dinner table. You play with Bam as he does so, a game of tug-of-war that you’re bound to lose as the dog is far stronger than you. Yet you still indulge, as you’ve missed Bam far more than you even thought possible.

The game is only interrupted when Jungkook rests a cup of steaming hot chocolate on the table next to you. You let Bam go, and the dog trots away to go play somewhere else, you can only assume.

“What did you want to talk about?”

You’ve left the ring box on the table. You’ve noticed Jungkook glancing at it repeatedly since you’ve put it there, and you worry at your bottom lip.

“I wanted to apologize again, for what it’s worth,” you answer. “I felt horrible when it happened, and just wanted to forget all about it.”

His features turn harsh, and his eyes drop into the cup of hot chocolate he’s nursing for himself. It reminds you of a café, of a conversation you had years ago, that led to you opening up to him, and to him opening up to you.

“I love you,” you continue. “I haven’t stopped loving you, and if I’d known that breaking up would hurt so much, I would’ve fought harder. I wish I had, and I wish I’d never let you go.”

“But you did…” he says when you remain silent for a few seconds.

“But I did. And I understand if you hate me for it. If you don’t want to ever see me again. But shit, you’re the only thing that I’ve been able to think about. Just you, and everything that could have been, had I been stronger.”

You grab the cup of hot chocolate, the warmth of it slowly seeping through your cold fingers. For the next few minutes, you don’t say anything, and neither does he. You just drink the hot chocolate, hoping you’ll find more words to say at the bottom of the cup.

“The distance was hard,” Jungkook eventually says. “I don’t blame you for wanting to end things over it.”

It surprises you. Makes your brain go entirely empty, and you just watch him with wide eyes for a few seconds.

He shrugs as you don’t say anything. “What?” He looks down, tongue darting out to play with his piercings. “I’ve been thinking about everything too.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I over-reacted, when you told me you had sex with Harrison,” he admits.

Totally not expecting the conversation to take this turn, you’re stunned silent.

“I was shocked, and needed time to process,” he continues. “You were right, the fact that I went on a full-on date is just as bad, differently. We were broken up, we didn’t owe each other anything.”

As much as it pains you to agree, you still do, nodding your head. “We didn’t.”

He purses his lips, holds your gaze for a few seconds before glancing down at his cup. The silence is more comfortable now, as you think maybe, maybe then the dream you’ve dreamed about isn’t just a distant mirage of what could have once been. It’s foolish, but you can’t help it.

You think your heart is beating for the first time since you left that morning weeks ago.

“Did you want to speak about anything else?” he asks after he’s taken a long sip of his hot chocolate.

You take a deep breath, and somehow courage finds you on the long exhale. “I don’t want us to be over.”

You think you hear him gulp. “You don’t?”

Blinking away a few tears, you shake your head no. “I really don’t. I walked around all day today, and all I could think about was you. All I could think of was all the years between us, from when we met to a few weeks ago. And I don’t know, I refuse to accept that the end has come.”

“When does it come, then?” he asks.

“When the end comes?”

He nods.

“After years and years,” you say, allowing yourself to voice your dream. “Hopefully after we’ve had years to live together. After we’ve gotten married, and maybe even after we’ve had kids. Not that I want some.” You pause, and you look down at the table, unable to carry the weight of his gaze anymore. “Or maybe after we’ve had plenty of dogs, a cat or two. After we’ve had a house with a white picket fence, after we’ve danced under a thousand different night skies.” A tear rolls on your cheek, and you do nothing to stop it. “After we’ve travelled the world together, after we’ve had a chance to live, together.”

“And what happens after we’ve lived together?” he presses.

You shrug. “Then we die together. Then we turn into stardust and memories. I don’t care. As long as it’s with you, I don’t care what happens to me.”

Blurry behind the wall of tears in your eyes, you see Jungkook run a hand through his hair. “You don’t?”

“I don’t,” you echo. “I just want to get to love you.”

At that you do cry. And not just a little bit. Your heart longs and yearns for him, reaching in the space between you, trying to find a beat to sync with. You wipe your cheeks dry with trembling hands, before pressing the heel of your palms on your eyes, hoping to stop the cascade at the source.

“It’s a nice dream,” Jungkook says after the few minutes it takes you to collect yourself, your hands falling to the table.

“Is it?”

He nods. “Yeah. I don’t think we’d do a white picket fence though. I’ve always found cedar trees make a better fence.”

Something stirs inside of you, and you want to take a hold of him, and to never let go. “Yeah?”

He sits back in the chair, looks up to the ceiling as he blinks away the silver in his own gaze. You wonder if he’s crying because he saw you cry, as the sympathetic crier that he is, or because he shares the emotions in your heart.

“Where would you want to get married?” he asks then.

You push the velvet box towards him. “This is for you.”

He doesn’t acknowledge this, instead repeating the question.

“Somewhere in the countryside,” you answer. “Maybe the cottage where it all started.” You think about Julys of a world ago. “Under the night sky.”

“People don’t usually get married when it’s already dark.”

“Right,” you let out. “Then we’d have a ceremony for just us two when it’s dark outside.”

At that he grabs the box, opening it. You reckon he must have known what the content was, because he doesn’t say anything as he takes it out. As he tries to put it on his finger, though it doesn’t fit. It’s too tight, and it makes him chuckle, a sad sound that almost kills you on the spot.

“Do you think we’d dance under the stars?” he asks as he turns the gold band in his fingers, and light glimmers on it.

“Yes,” you say, nodding your head. “We always would.”

“So you came all the way here to tell me this?”

He meets your gaze again, for the first time in a while. He looks struck with emotion, much like you feel – the depths of his eyes are swirling with love and ache and yearning. You fall forward, fall in his eyes, trying to find home again.

“I came here to ask you to marry me,” you finally say, as it dawns upon you that, yes, your steps were leading you to this all along. “Jungkook, will you marry me?”

He smiles, a world of sadness etched in the sweet curve of his lips. “Can it be this easy?”

You shut your eyes. “It can. Please. Let’s not lose what we have again.”

“When would you like to get married?” he asks.

“Are you saying yes?”

He plays with his piercing, takes a deep breath as he chases tears away from his gaze but to no avail. You watch the two drops as they slowly roll down his face. “When would you like to get married?”

“In July,” you answer easily.

“Next year?”

You nod.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds more, then looks at the gold band again. His fist closes around it, slowly, as if he’ll be able to crush it in his hold. For what you don’t know. All that you know is that his features grow tortured, pained. It doesn’t last long – another deep breath later the expression is gone.

“I need to tell you something,” he says then, his voice so small you can barely hear it.

You prepare yourself. As well as you can, expecting the blow before it comes. You sense it – in the eternity it takes for him to speak again, you see every moment of you and him before this day, your life flashing before your eyes as if you’re about to die.

And then he says it a first time. At first you don’t even understand the words, as if he’s speaking a foreign language. So you let out, “What?”, hoping that it will change the cruelty that this world holds.

But nothing can, after the end has come. Nothing, especially not as he repeats the words, softly, their meaning tainting the dream you’ve just painted with him, until all that’s left of it is a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I’m permanently moving to South Korea.”

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I'm sorry for the angst, for the cliffhanger, for them to be so stubborn and for how life is working against them now. I hope you don't hate me too much after this :') let me know what you think of this chapter!

Taglist: (add yourself to the taglist here) (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you):

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faeryarchives · 4 months

Text

when your hopeless streamer gets a girlfriend (ace trappola x f!reader)

summary: the rising streamer ace trappola has always been teased by his friends and fans about his failed relationships - that is until one certain stream where each and everyone of them were proven wrong.

note: ok i had this idea at 1 in the morning i was like 'hmmm what if we make a streamer series for twst?' and its just full of fluff and crack like no magic au + everyone is just normal

recent fics: happy birthday (malleus x reader) & so what are we? & in sickness and in health

it was around saturday midnight when everyone should be asleep, but ace trappola decided it was a good time to stream a horror game out of all possible games he could play with his friends. they all started as friends before starting the game but i fear he might have none after the stream.

"crabby, where are you~?" the sound of floyd humming through the mic sent shivers down the boy's back as he tried hiding from the hunter. "it's so funny to see floyd just have this tunnel vision to kill ace." jamil's smooth voice rang out, obviously amuse how the scene was unfolding.

"oh flooooyd! ace is hiding in the house with the telephone!"

"i hate all of you, after this game i am blocking everyone!" seeing him become the victim in the game and everyone turning on against him, his fans flood the live stream chat with laughing emojis and 'take the l'.

"ace, become a good bait while we fix the car." he heard ruggie and deuce laugh at his misery before their characters ran opposite his direction.

"okay who is the one that said floyd should be the hunter this round? hey, hey, hey! stop chasing after me- am i the only player in this game?! epel is right here!" in an act of desperation, ace tried to hide behind epel's character instead but only to receive massive damage when the attack hit him instead.

"eh... but guppy-chan isn't even trying to run away, which is boring!"

"wait, really?" he then stopped running. ace turned to face the hunter's character, trying to see if floyd would actually kill him, only to notice something wrong a little too late. "heh, gotcha," ace screamed into his mic, watching his character gets stuck in the tree and meet his demise as floyd split him into half literally. the words 'you died' appeared on the streamer's screen.

gloomurai: wow you are so great in this game 🤣

"i see you idia-senpai! it's not my fault they all turned against me!"

wani-sama🔧: it's your karma for selling them out to ruggie last game

"yeah, yeah... well, i'm always the last one to get caught, so this can be pretty relaxing." the streamer smirked as he watched from deuce's point of view where he is currently lost in the woods.

"i get to watch them die but knowing floyd he might quit mid-game." to used to being the first one out, ace sighed, switching from one point of view to another. bored ou of his mind, he looked at the corner of his screen, ace looked at the comments curiously as they try suggesting things.

muscle-red: why don't you do a q and a while waiting then?

"question and answer? don't you guys basically know me already?" ace looked at the screen intently, contemplating whether he should do it.

"fucking viper i swear!" suddenly someone joined the call causing ace to jump in surprised, only to realize it was ruggie.

"how did you die?"

"jamil betrayed me because we thought it was a four-seater car. it turns out it was only two!" hearing this, ace turned to jamil's point of view and snickered about how he and epel got chased by the sneaky eel. "welcome to the dead club."

as if he could imagine his senior rolling his eyes at his words, he smirked smugly - karma does bite back hard. "hardy har... what were you doing? i heard something about a question and answer?"

"chat wants me to have another q and a portion, what more do i have to tell you guys?"

cowabunga: how is the search for your beloved mwishxr: there is no use in asking that

"search for my beloved? hey!"

"shishishi! even your viewers are against you!"

it's a running joke in ace's community on how he was immediately dump by his ex girlfriend one week after dating. it wasn't like he wanted to share the story - he shared it as a batsu game after losing a round of uno. usually, when asked about his search for a girlfriend, ace would get all red and try to defend himself from the single until he became old allegations.

but today was surprising because not only did he not become all flustered and defensive - ace trappola looked smug even as he leaned his head into his palm and laughed.

"hmm, i wonder about that?" from behind, ace could hear approaching footsteps stopping next to him, and the live stream chat went wild and even ruggie who was looking at ace's stream right now watched with wide eyes as someone who was wearing the streamer's well-known sweater stood beside him.

"what the fuck?!"

gloomurai: ?!?!? muscle-red: what is with the sudden plot twist wani-sama🔧: WAIT wani-sama🔧: IS THAT-?!

"heya (nickname)~" ace hummed, turning his gaming chair facing your direction, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he grinned at you ever so cheekily. "you're late!"

"what are you five? i don't even know why you want me to come over." you rolled your eyes, trying to push him away playfully, only to run your fingers through his hair and chuckle.

seeing him lazily smiling at you causes you to succumb to your urge to pinch his cheeks - hard, making ace cry out in pain. before you could even ask another question, you saw something flash at the corner of your eye causing you to look at his monitor - realizing that he is still streaming. while holding onto you. and he not even on mute!

"this is all your plan, wasn't..." holding his face in your hands, ace could only laugh and nod, his hand quickly pulling you down, making you sit on his lap as he proudly present you to everyone. "as you can see, i am not hopeless anymore!"

wani-sama🔧: WHAT ARE YOU DOING SIS?!

"how is it possible i could hear sebek through the screen..." you sigh, leaning your back on ace and waved at the camera so casually as if the chat and ruggie weren't surprised at all.

"i just want to say to chat that ace didn't have my family in hostage." with you hand wrapped around his, you put up up and showed it to the camera. "and he is stuck with me."

hearing at just what you said made everyone in the chat go insane erupting into numerous emoji and something with the lines of 'oh my god he is not lying!' or just exclamation but nothing beats the reaction of your friends.

"(name) you settled for a guy like him?!" you could hear ruggie's surprised voice through your boyfriend's headset and honestly, you were contemplating if you would agree or just laugh it off.

"what can i say? sometimes, idiots have their charms."

jamil-viper: i can't believe you got (name) of all people... deuce-spade: oh thank god i don't have to keep it a secret anymore. wani-sama🔧: YOU KNEW?! epel-felmier: i think that's the effect of not our gc !!

the stream goes on with ace finally having his bragging rights and the twitter stans going crazy about the sudden girlfriend reveal. oh well, karma does hit back hard doesn't it?

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #twst ace #faeryarchives #a.heartslabyul

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heliads · 16 days

Note

Can you do Peter Pan x reader OUAT? Peter goes to the modern world with Emma, Snow, David and them as they are looking for someone. He meets this girl and takes an interest to her. He’s never seen someone with facial piercings, and dyed hair before, they come to realize she is the girl they’ve been looking for.

'magic finds magic' - peter pan

masterlist

Peter Pan is leaving Neverland. Worse, he’s leaving Neverland alongside Snow, Emma, David, and Hook. In terms of traveling partners, this has got to be the lowest of the low. However, the sand in Peter’s immortal hourglass is running out, and his first attempt at prolonging his life with the heart of Henry Mills didn’t exactly go according to plan. It’s this or nothing, even though Peter is starting to wonder if it would be better to just die than put up with these people any longer.

Never in his life did Peter Pan think he’d be working with the good guys. But never in his life did Peter think he’d be dying, either. A few compromises will have to be made in the name of preserving Peter’s everlasting life, and if that means he has to put up with some princesses and pirates for a few days, so be it. In no time at all, his immortal life will be restored, and he can go back to Neverland and put all of this behind him. Hopefully.

Peter was supposed to die back on Neverland. He was running out of time, anyway. He had set up the perfect scheme: kidnap Henry, disorient the boy’s rescuers on his island long enough to win the Heart of the Truest Believer, and cut the organ out of the boy’s chest if necessary. He’d almost gotten away with it, too, except he was foiled at the last minute. Heartbreaking. So unlike him.

For some reason, though, he hadn’t been left to die in the caverns of Skull Rock. Emma and the others had needed him, for some odd reason, and although none of them trust him in the slightest, they do trust Peter’s single-minded selfishness to keep himself alive. So they claim, at least, and so they had gotten a spell to give Peter one more week of life in exchange for help. If this plan works out, Peter will have a way to continue his immortal life without needing to murder Henry. If it doesn’t, or if he betrays them, he’ll die anyway.

He can feel it now, the pang of his close call with death. There’s a pain in his chest that wasn’t there before, a certain weakness in his lungs. Peter gets tired more easily. He feels– well, he feels like Henry and Emma. He feels mortal. Like he could die at any moment.

Peter has, obviously, thought about double-crossing them, maybe even triple-crossing them, but it’s no use. He feels shakily mortal right now, and Peter does not much enjoy the possibility of his own demise. This is the closest he’s ever come to being beaten, and Peter hates the feeling. He’ll have to play along for now, but after that, he will have his revenge.

First, though, Peter has to do what the others want. They’ve been careful to reveal as few details to him as possible, but the idea is solid. There’s a magical person somewhere in the modern world, in a city far from Storybrooke. This person is like the embodiment of a true love’s kiss spell, designed to renew hope in storybook characters through small acts of power that ultimately drive two needed people together. They’re like a guardian angel of those on the brink of destruction, which is exactly what Peter needs right now.

Peter has plenty of time to mull this over. They’ve forced him into a terrible, small room with awful carpets– an apartment, Emma called it– while they talk out what to do with both him and their missing spell-person. Peter is trying to focus, but he’s getting stared at by Henry Mills again, which is absolutely ruining his mood.

“What do you want?” Peter asks, glaring at the boy.

Henry just goggles back at him. “Don’t you feel bad for trying to kill me?”

Peter snorts. “Why would I do that?”

Henry shrugs. “You pretended you were my friend. I know you like the other Lost Boys on your island, I thought you would have felt bad for killing one of them. I guess not.”

“I don’t feel bad about killing someone so I would live,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s arguing with a child. “Go preach your morals to someone who wants to listen.”

“The others are busy,” Henry pouts.

Peter eyes him unhappily. “And what, I’m your best option for polite conversation? You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “I’d say you’re desperate. You’re the one who’s still talking to me.”

Peter can’t really argue with that, so he deftly changes the topic of conversation before Henry starts looking proud of himself again. “Tell me about our target again. You said you saw them before?”

“Only in a dream,” Henry admits, “but it was a clear dream, I swear. I saw a girl who looked about your age. She seemed like any other teenager, but there was something about her that was different. The way she spoke, maybe, or the glint in her eyes. She was magical, I’m sure of it. She can save Storybrooke.”

“And save me,” Peter reminds him. “That’s the important part.”

Henry rolls his eyes again. If he keeps that up, they’re going to get stuck like that forever. “Yes, I know, you’re only interested in keeping yourself alive. So long as it helps us find this girl, though, I don’t care.”

Peter leans forward. “What’s your plan for finding this girl, then? A little scouting party? This city is big. You’ll never find her.”

Henry shakes his head. “Magic has a way of finding magic. Somehow, our paths will cross.”

“That’s a terrible strategy,” Peter grouses. Why is he entrusting his life to this boy again? He remembers something about having no other options, but it doesn’t seem as good an excuse right now.

“Ask the adults, then,” Henry tells him, and gestures towards the miniscule apartment kitchen, where Emma, Snow, Hook, and David are currently huddled around a table, talking in hushed voices about what to do.

Not wanting to mess with the kid anymore, Peter pulls himself to his feet and heads over. “Tell me you have a plan,” he says.

The adults look up at him. “Find the girl,” Hook says shortly. “That’s our plan.”

Peter scoffs. “You could search this city for months and not find her. What if she doesn’t want to be found? If this girl has any brains at all, she’ll know that people will want her magic and she’ll hide. It’s what I would do.”

Emma sighs. “We don’t even know if this girl knows that she has magic. She’s probably just living an ordinary life, and we’re about to drag her out of it with all of our trouble.”

“Don’t tell me you feel bad for her,” Peter scolds her. “You want this, don’t you? So go get it, or I will.”

Snow tries to tell him to calm down, but David, so quick to anger when it comes to Peter, surges out of his chair. “How about you do something helpful and think with us instead of just insulting us?”

“I will do something helpful,” Peter informs him. “I’ll find her first.”

With that, he lunges for the apartment door, and is out of the tiny room and down the hall before they can stop him. Peter hears the thunder of footsteps after him, but he hurries down the stairs and out of the building. He has the advantage of being quick on his feet; if Neverland taught him anything, it’s how to run when you don’t want to be found.

Peter emerges into the bright sunshine of the city and stops dead in his tracks. He’s not used to the modern world, how the knives of its buildings slash up into the sky, how loud it is with those cars and signs and people. Peter swears he can even see metal things in the sky, soaring along predestined paths. It’s all so much compared to the world he used to know. No wonder some of the others had a hard time adjusting. His mortal heart lets out a pang of sympathy.

The door of the apartment building flies open, revealing Emma and the others hot on his trail. Peter curses under his breath and takes off in one direction, hurtling around pedestrians and shooting down the sidewalk. He heads for smaller streets, hoping to lose them in a swarm of alleyways. The others, more used to the terrain of the modern city, are gaining on him, and Peter is just starting to think that he’ll never be able to shake them when someone grabs him and pulls him into a nearby building.

Peter’s first instinct is to defend himself, but when he isn’t attacked, he realizes that the stranger is only trying to help him. There’s a window just to his left, and Peter watches Emma and the others appear seconds after him. They didn’t see him enter the shop, and keep sprinting down the road in the direction they thought he’d gone. Peter waits a few more intense moments, then decides that he’s lost them for good and turns back around to see who’s gone to the trouble of rescuing him.

He’s greeted with the sight of a girl about his age. She’s eyeing him cautiously, although the corners of her lips begin to prick up with a wicked grin. “Sorry for the rough introduction, but you looked like you needed some help,” she tells him.

Peter lets out a short laugh. “I’m glad to be rid of them, that’s for sure.”

The girl arches a brow. “What, did they catch you shoplifting? I’ve never seen people run that fast unless they were getting chased by the cops.”

Peter narrows his eyes, trying to figure out how on earth he would lift a shop, then decides it’s probably some slang term he doesn’t know. “Something like that,” he says evasively.

He studies the girl’s face to see if he’d answered correctly, and, judging by her impressed grin, he had. “Nice,” she says. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Peter,” he replies. He gets the urge to introduce himself as he usually would– Peter, Peter Pan– then remembers at the last second that Emma had warned him about telling people who he was. Apparently, telling people he was a fictional character in their world wouldn’t go over too well.

“Peter,” the girl repeats. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Peter says, and realizes belatedly that he means it. He feels like how he had at the start of it all, when the Lost Boys had first started appearing on this island, but this feeling is far stronger. He wants to get to know this girl. He certainly doesn’t want her to leave.

“I’m new to the city,” he says abruptly. “Any chance you could show me around?”

Y/N laughs, surprised. “You’re new and you’re already in trouble? You’ll fit right in, Peter.”

He grins, in on the joke a half beat late. “I like to have fun, that’s all.”

“Well,” Y/N says, starting to lead him back towards the door of the shop, “I like fun, too. Maybe we should stick together.”

“I’d like that,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s being so honest all of a sudden. When he sees Y/N’s smile– real this time, not sarcastic or joking, but genuinely because of him– he thinks he knows why.

The two of them step back out into the light. “Where to first?” Peter asks.

“I was going to ask you that,” Y/N replies. “What do you want to do? Sightseeing, maybe? We can get some food, or just talk.”

“Anything,” he says. He’d follow her anywhere. The feeling in him right now is like nothing he’s ever felt before. The pain in his chest, Peter realizes with some surprise, is gone. He feels immortal. Like living in this one moment could last forever.

They end up spending the next few hours together. Y/N shows him around the city, taking Peter to her favorite spots. Peter stares at the vast cityscape and finally starts to understand why someone might choose the modern world over the natural one. He’ll always pick Neverland first, of course, but seeing the world through Y/N’s eyes, it makes sense.

The two of them get along like a house on fire. Y/N’s got this rebellious streak to her that fits in perfectly with Peter’s, well, Peter-ness. No joke is too dark, no sarcastic comment too caustic. They feel the same. Peter doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who thinks so much like him.

As the sun starts to set in the sky, Peter feels his spirits sinking. He doesn’t want to let go of this day, not when he knows it can never happen again. He’s supposed to be finding Henry’s spell-girl, but all Peter wants to do is spend more time with Y/N.

His mood is especially ruined when they turn a corner and find Henry Mills walking towards them. Peter’s eyes widen and he tries to steer Y/N back in the direction they’d come, but it’s too late. Henry lets out an audible gasp and starts hurrying towards them.

“Peter,” Henry calls out when he’s close enough to talk, “We’ve been looking for you all over! Where have you been?”

Y/N glances at Henry dubiously. “Who’s this?”

“My little brother,” Peter blurts out.

At the same time, Henry chimes in, “My friend from school.”

Peter shoots the younger boy a quick glare, then turns back to Y/N. “Both, actually. He’s my step-brother. Recent marriage. We’re still getting acclimated. Our family is a little chaotic.”

“You can say that again,” Henry mumbles. Peter fights the urge to butcher him.

While Peter silently advises himself on why murder would be bad at a time like this, Henry stares openly at Y/N. All of a sudden, the boy’s mouth hangs open. “Oh my gosh, it’s you.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, Peter feels a sick sensation in his stomach. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

“You’re the girl from my dream,” Henry announces. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Y/N looks back at Peter. “What’s he talking about?”

The open, carefree expression, which had been on her face all day, is starting to be replaced with deep, unsettled fear. Peter hates to see it directed at him. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he begins. “Something about yourself.”

“You’re sounding a little creepy right now,” Y/N warns him. “Get to the point.”

“Alright,” Peter says. “You’re magical. So am I. We need your help to break a curse and save my life. How about that?”

Y/N shakes her head quickly. “This is crazy. Magic isn’t real.”

Peter can’t lose her, not like this, so he leans forward and holds out his hand. A ball of light appears inside his cupped fingers, glowing and bright. It’s a simple charm, one of the first he learned, but it has the desired effect.

Y/N stares at it, transfixed, and when she speaks again, her voice is hushed. “That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Peter says. “Not magic. Not even the fact that you would find me in this city by accident. Magic is drawn to magic.”

Y/N’s eyes slowly raise to meet his. “This is real, then. I have magic.”

“You have magic,” Peter confirms. “Come with us, we can show you. They’re good people, Y/N. You can trust them.”

It’s the closest he’s ever come to honesty. For once, Peter isn’t playing a game. He isn’t trying to trick Y/N over to his side. He just wants her to be safe, and he knows that isn’t through lies.

Y/N smiles at him. “I trust you, Peter. That’s enough for me.”

She reaches over and takes his hand. Now that he’s focusing on it, Peter can feel the slow loop of her magic when they touch. It feels like power, but more than that, it feels like life. A life with her, maybe. A life for both of them.

ouat tag list: @loveanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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legendofmorons · 4 months

Note

Your honor, I humbly request that the Chain find out that reader has tattoos.

Some are easy to see and explain, “this is my mother’s favorite flower,” “I just like butterflies.”

Some are harder to explain, quotes from video games, references that are really important to reader but mean literally nothing to the Chain.

One is kept hidden pointedly. Just behind their ear on one side is the triforce, tattooed carefully. It’s covered up by hair most of the time (because let’s be honest, your hair hasn’t been cut in a bit since joining the chain, so if it was short before it’s kinda grown out by now) but one day the wind blows in just the right way or someone tries to braid Reader’s hair or maybe Reader just pushed it out of the way because it was annoying them. In any case, one of the boys sees this and recognizes it and now they have a *lot* of questions.

-VS

Tattoo or taboo?

Oooooo I love this idea! The boys would definitely be interested in tattoos AND ypur triforce.

Reader is assumed to have hair long enough to tuck behind their ear and cover a tattoo behind their ear.

Your tattoos aren't something you've been hiding, you just weren't sure that the boys would even know what they were.

What if the boys wanted a tattoo? You don't have the proper equipment! (Assuming you even CAN tattoo.)

But for whatever reason it hasn't come up until now.

An injury has revealed the top half of your body to the world, which includes some tattoos.

"You have such odd markings." Twilight says, leaning closer to a floral tattoo

"You mean my tattoos?"

"Tatt-whos?" Wind echoes with the wring pronunciation.

"Tattoos. They're ink."

"You draw on yourself? This one is on your shoulder balde!" Hyrule is now examining your tattoos.

"Someone else did them."

You then have to explain what tattoos are, how they're done, and the importance of the right artist with proper equipment.

Wind is IN LOVE with tattoos. He's probably seen them and just thought they were makeup/marker. He does spend time with pirates

Wild probably knows what tattoos are. If I understand the lore right his Impa has tattoos and so do other shiekah. He's just glad you

Legend and Four are also pretty interested, but they're not nearly as obvious

Twilight, Hyrule, and Sky want to know EVERY meaning (to you) behind each tattoo. They're all very intrigued.

Warriors and Time aren't against tattoos, but they figure that's your buissness. They're happy to help you with upkeep, though.

However, you are still hiding the triforce behind your ear. That one is one ypu ate keeping from them. Explaining that one would be a nightmare.

Wind is definitely bouncing tattoo ideas for himself off of you.

Unfortunately, your secret tattoo is found out one day after having to pull/pin your hair out of the eay.

"What is that?" Warriors asks, the first to see it.

Well, fuck yo.

Well fuck indeed

"What's what?" Wind asks helpfully, turning his full attention to you.

"Uhhhhh-"

One by one, each of the boys notices it.

And they have questions

Mostly why, how, and are you a hero too?

You choose the easiest route.

"My world is really far removed from any of your's. Your stories have ended up part of pop culture."

"People think we're pop culture?" Legend asks, looking upset.

"Yes. But none of us knew you were real. We thought it was all made up."

"You must live in a peaceful time." Wild says.

"Uhhh- there's no ganon or demise or anything like that."

"Good." Sky says, something in his face softer.

It takes some explaining, but you avoid telling them that not only are they not real to your time, but that people play as them through their adventures.

That seems like the kindest thing

Sometimes you have to leave things out

You also have to promise not to treat their stories as fiction anymore.

#lu #linkeduniverse #misty writes #linked universe x reader #lu four #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu sky #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wild #lu wind

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safe-by-dawn · 10 months

Note

Hi! I loved the Toby headcanons you wrote! Can we please get a yandere nsfw Ticci Toby x reader?

~Possession~

Yandere!Ticci Toby/Toby Rogers x SlightlyDeranged!Reader (Smut)

Requests are currently open!

MDNI!

My first request! I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing them and I can't wait to get some time to write for some more Pastas! I got some good ideas up my sleeve.

Also I made the reader super into the fact that Toby fucks up anybody that even gets near his s/o, so if you were thinking of a more innocent/scared reader just send me another ask but but honestly anybody that gets with Toby better be into that because he's gonna burn cities for his s/o.

I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I did writing it!

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder, Public Sex.

Let me know if I should add anything to the warnings! I try my best to add what I think is necessary but sometimes I can't tell when something should be included.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His hand was on your thigh, squeezing the flesh there and it was enough to make your heart drop for the poor man that had taken up residence next to you at the bar. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into. He didn’t know that the small touch that still lingered on your thigh would be his one way ticket to an early demise.

He didn’t know that the other man beside you practically owned you at this point, and he surely didn’t know that you took some sick, demented enjoyment out of watching the way he gets when he’s jealous. It’s lethal.

“Won’t you come home with me, darling?” The words are slurred, barely even there when he leans towards your ear.

You can practically feel Toby stiffen beside you, radiating anger in such a way that it seeps into your clothes and fuses into your bones leaving a sweet, delicious ache in the pit of your stomach. He’s a good fuck normally, but the switch that flips when he gets jealous is unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

“I suggest you take your hand off me,” Your eyes finally meet his, a coy smile playing at your lips, “If you want to make it through the night, that is.”

Your hand moves to push the man’s off your thigh, but he keeps your flesh in a vice-grip as he speaks, “Feisty, I love that in a woman.”

You can’t help the small giggle that pulls its way out of your throat as you feel Toby finally move. You don’t know how he’s held back for this long. You know the jealousy is burning in him, and his eyes are on the two of you. You don’t even have to look over at him to know it. Toby’s own hand finally shoots out and in one swift motion, grabs the man's fingers and twists, pushing them towards him and you hear the sickly snap before you see the way his fingers are now bent, definitely broken.

He might have a chance if he stops now, but now you have anger on both sides of you, and you just know it won’t end here. You know Toby has no reason to hold back, and he won’t. He doesn’t know how. Not anymore.

“Fuckin’ bitch.” The man pushes out of his seat, moving towards the man that just snapped his fingers.

The bar stool scratches heavily against the wood floor as Toby finally stands, gripping onto the man's collar and practically dragging him out of the dingy dive bar. They’re out of the door before you can even stand, and you take a moment to fish an almost empty pack of cigarettes out of your pocket, pulling one out and lighting it before reaching for the money you kept in the back pocket of your jeans.

It’s at least a hundred but you don’t count it before throwing it down. Call it payment for damages for when someone finally finds that sour fucker’s body the next morning.

You pull a drag from your cigarette as you move to get up, your own bar stool screeching into the air and you finally allow yourself to look to the only duo that rests in the corner of the bar and giving them a small smile. Their eyes pull quickly away from yours and you finally make your way outside into the just as disgusting night air that surrounds the establishment.

You can hear him before you see him. The labored grunts of him most likely already crushing the man’s head in is just around the corner, leading into the dark alleyway, and the fact that you can only hear Toby is a sure sign that he’s almost done with the man. His life’s probably gone, but Toby has so much anger stored in his body from that interaction that he might be there for a moment before he feels like he’s finally finished with him.

The scene you walk into is much worse than you expected, and some part of you is glad that it’s dark. The wall behind them is a disgusting inky color that you can only guess is blood. Some broken bones, arms contorted in a way that makes your stomach turn, even after getting comfortable with seeing what kind of aftermath Toby can leave behind, it’s a little bit much.

Toby has his hands splayed onto the brick of the wall, holding himself stable as his foot sinks another kick into the limp leftovers of the man on the ground. Once you finally make it closer to him you can hear him whispering, voice coming out in a low growl that sets your skin on fire.

Mine, she’s mine.

You let your hands rest on his back, pushing to wrap around him, hands coming to rest just under his shirt on his bare stomach. You let your thumbs toy at the waistband before gripping onto it, and it usually serves to pull Toby back to the real world. Tugging him out of his thoughts proves to be a little harder tonight, but his hand comes to rest on one of yours before he lets the man have one more kick before pushing himself off of the wall and turning his face towards you.

It’s splattered with dark red, and if you hadn’t known him, you would think it was his own, but you know the man doesn’t have a single scratch on him. You pull your hand from his waistband to tug the cigarette out of your mouth after taking a long draw, moving it to Toby’s mouth and pressing the butt of it to his lips. He pulls his own draw off of it before you toss it to the ground, not worrying about stomping it out. You wouldn’t have time even if you had wanted to.

Toby’s lips crash hard against your own after he exhales the smoke, and you drink him in like you’ve been thirsting your whole life and he’s the water you’ve fought so hard to finally reach. Your teeth hit his in the mess of a kiss, and you’re sure he’s drawn blood when he finally bites at your bottom lip.

“You’re fucking mine.” His voice comes out with a growl of arousal and over-exhaustion, and it only serves to push you closer to the brink and his hands aren’t even on you yet. His usual stutter is nowhere to be found, lost in the clouded haze of anger and post-murder. His mind’s only on one thing and it’s you. All of it is you.

“All yours.”

You can barely get the words out before he’s pushing and pulling, pressing your back hard against the other side of the alleyway and his mouth finds its way to your throat. He bites hard, no doubt leaving a bruise already forming. You can feel him all around you, hands all over your body, pulling at your clothes and undoing the button on your jeans. He pushes them down quickly, and the way the night air presses heavily into your form is the only thing to remind you that you’re still outside.

Anybody could see you, anybody could see what he’s done, and anybody can see the mess he’s about to make of you. It sends a delicious chill up your spine. His lips press against yours once more before he’s pulling away and pressing your face into the brick of the building, no doubt scratching you up a bit, but it’s worth it. It’ll all be worth it as long as he takes you right here. You’re far enough in the dark that as long as nobody follows the sounds pouring from your mouth then you’ll be just fine.

His mouth lands on your shoulder and even through the fabric, the weight of his bite tears a shriek out of you. “Keep making those sounds for me.” His voice filters into your ears, and you can’t help but push back into him. The thin fabric of your panties does little to keep the denim of his jeans from rubbing you deliciously, and you can feel every inch of him through his jeans. You’re practically drooling at this point and he knows it.

“You’re fucking sick, y’know that?” He speaks before he presses a smaller bite into your earlobe and his hand finally pulls your panties down to meet where your jeans rest at the bottom of your thighs. “You do this on purpose, don’t you?” His scarred fingers finally press against your slit, pushing just enough to feel how wet you are, but not giving you what you wanted just yet.

You can only nod, words not able to form in the knot he has tied in your throat.

“You get off on me killing for you,” He laughs then, absolutely deranged, exactly how you like him. “You’re- You’re just like me.”

His fingers finally circle your clit, pulling some of the pent-up arousal out of you in the form of a moan and the words finally slip out of you, “Jus’ like you, Toby, Fuck.” You huff as his fingers work you, pulling you closer to your edge and you can feel him trying to undo his pants with one hand and your mouth waters at the thought of him finally filling you up.

“You love me?” He asks, he always asks and you always answer.

“Only you, Toby.”

He leaves another bite on your shoulder as he pulls himself out of his pants, resting against your ass and never slowing his hand on your cunt as he says his next words, “Then cum for me, baby.” It comes out as a whine, begging, delicious, and twisting your insides.

It pushes you so close, almost to the edge. As he finally slips into you, you tumble, falling over the edge as his hips finally snap into you. He fucks you through it, as words fall out of your mouth in an incoherent mess and you can only hear him chuckle behind you. You can only feel his hands on you as he finally pulls off of your sensitive clit to grip heavily onto your hips. All you can do is brace yourself as he fucks into you, chasing his own high.

His grunts fill the Alley, and the way he growls sets you on fire as your body tries to come down from its high. He doesn’t let it though, cock pressing hard into your sweet spot with each thrust. His hips hit against you with a bruising weight as he fills you to the brim with every bit of him, every inch stretches you out deliciously. You can feel it coming again, can feel the tight coil in your abdomen get worse with every thrust.

He finally snaps his hips and keeps them pressed against you and him cumming inside of you pulls you over the edge for a second time like a noose tied around a rock and your neck and he just threw it into the ocean.

You both come undone and your cunt milks him for everything he’s worth. His growls fill the air around you as he ruts against you, thrusting another time before he pulls out of you. Your mixed fluids leak out the smallest bit before he’s pulling your clothes up and buttoning your jeans for you. He lands a light smack to your ass before he’s finally fixing himself and his hand finds purchase in your hair to finally pull you off the wall and into him.

His thumb presses heavily into your cheek, smearing the blood from the scratches the dirty brick gave you before he presses it into his tongue. He’s fucking deranged, but you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t admit you were just as fucked up as he was.

#i wanna write something a bit more graphic but ill save that for another day #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #fanfic #toby rogers x reader #ticci toby x reader smut #toby rogers #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby

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spookychick78 · 11 months

Text

OG Michael Myers One Shot

A little continuation of the parking garage one shot as requested by the lovely @slasherhoe87 🖤🔪

also, its becoming glaringly obvious how much of a Myers simp I am with how much shit I’ve written about this man.

OG!Michael Myers X AFAB!Reader

Warnings: (Y’all knew this was coming) NSFW, Knife play, blood play, choking

Word Count: 3,697

In the following weeks, (Y/n) couldn't stop thinking of the man in the mask. She found herself searching for him around every corner, down every alley way and through every window. It hadn't taken her long to put it together that whoever he was had been the one causing that undeniable feeling of being watched, but why? He had left her with so many questions and now close to a month since it had happened, she wondered if she would ever get answers.

She put her car in park and exited into the cool night air. The parking garage that had so often than not made her uneasy had begun to excite her every time she came home. Though, that night her excitement had started to fade. He was never there and honestly, she wondered if maybe he had been a figment of her imagination after all. She hurried towards the little room with the elevators and as she opened the door she turned and gave the empty lot one more lingering glance. Nothing.

Michael scoffed as he watched her. She wasn't quite as adept as he was at finding her obsession, though he found her efforts amusing. How funny it was that he had become her obsession, he thought to himself. He took note of her constantly wandering eyes that almost always fell in his direction, unaware that he was indeed there, hidden in the shadows. She had been close several times, but it had become a game to him and one Michael was inevitably better at than she was. He had more patience. Usually. However, it was wearing thin. He too hadn't been able to forget the night he had shown himself to her. It had undoubtedly been a mistake to touch her. The feeling of her skin against his hand, though the exchange was mere seconds, had ignited a desire within him he didn't know he was capable of possessing. Michael couldn't deny himself much longer, he wanted to know her and more than just by the surface level knowledge he'd managed to obtain by just watching. Observing from a distance no longer satisfied him, he wanted more. He wondered if she would be frightened when she finally found what she was looking for. Part of him hoped she would be, fear had looked so delicious on her and he hadn't even been the one to cause it, not entirely. He wanted that pleasure, but he wouldn't end her life. Perhaps he would bring her to the brink of death or perhaps he'd let those carnal thoughts guide him elsewhere. He had never given into them before, he wasn't even sure he had ever had them until he saw her. It was maddening not to know what exactly it was about her that had lured him in so completely. Maybe it was how petite she was in comparison to him, Michael did enjoy feeling larger than life. He knew if he was to wrap his hands around her throat they would all but engulf her. His frame pressed against her's could minimize her being so entirely that she would practically disappear from existence within his arms. Or maybe it was the challenge that excited him to the point of discomfort within his coveralls. He would have to exercise restraint like he never had before in order for her to survive being so entangled with him, because in reality he could end her life in seconds if he didn't. Her fate and possible demise would be in his hands the moment they met her skin once more. The entirety of their proverbial 'moon dance' would cascade along that ever thinning line between life and death. He wondered if she had any idea of the fire she was playing with, head canted to the side as he watched her eyes scan the empty garage in search of him once again.

She let out a frustrated sigh and let the door swing shut behind her. She pressed the button for the elevator, just once this time. She intended to waste as much time as humanly possible just in case he appeared. The doors began to separate, filling the room with their high pitched squeaking and she decided to give up on her search for the night. She slipped inside the cabin and reluctantly pressed the button for her floor. She leaned her back against the wall as she watched the doors close in on each other. Before each end could meet, they creaked to a halt. A hand had come between them, it retracted once the doors began to move outward. They were slower than ever as they reopened and she impatiently craned her neck to catch a glimpse of whom she would be sharing the brief ride upwards with, but found no one was there. She furrowed her brows and took a step forward. Before she could look out the doors, she was pushed back against the wall with a hand around her throat. After the initial shock had worn off, she looked up to see the white mask with the blackest holes looking down on her once again. He held her in place as the doors squeaked shut. After he was certain they were closed, he released his grip on her. (Y/n)'s chest heaved up and down as she struggled to catch the breath he'd knocked out of her.

"It's you," she panted.

She wasn't quite sure if it was fear or unbridled excitement she was feeling, but she surmised it was a dangerous, possibly deadly combination of the two that made her quickly reach her hand past him and lock the elevator. She quickly drew her arm back in and pressed herself back against the wall.

Michael slowly turned his head to see what she had done, moderately impressed by the confidence she had just displayed by assuming he wouldn't kill her. He returned his gaze to her and smirked behind his mask when he saw that subtle hint of fear hidden within her eyes. So she wasn't totally confident, but curious enough to trust him. He would have reminded her that it was curiosity that killed the cat, but he wasn't going to grant her the pleasure of hearing his voice, yet. She would have to be the one to end the silence between them if she had the courage to do so.

She had so many questions, but each of them seemed so nonsensical given the fact that he had never uttered a single word to her. She was almost certain he wouldn't answer any of them, but she had to say something. After waiting so long for this moment, it only seemed wrong to waste it.

"Who," she started, but stopped and rethought the first words she wanted to say, "why did you save me from that man? Why did you kill him but not me?"

Michael tilted his head. Would she have preferred he hadn't? It wasn't necessarily that he had saved her, he wasn't even sure that was the right word. Saving her for himself maybe, that would have been a better way to describe it. Someone had merely threatened to take her before he could and Michael wasn't one to share. She would soon learn that, if he hadn't made it clear enough for her before, he was about to. She waited so patiently for a response, her (e/c) eyes seemingly trying to decipher his features behind the mask without physically removing it. Her curiosity made her appear so innocent as she gazed up at him, inadvertently fueling his desire to take that innocence for himself. Though he had to admit, he found it somewhat endearing that she was so entranced by him she didn't even realize the position she could have possibly put herself in, were he not so obsessed with her in his own regard. He brought his hand up to her cheek as he had done before, but this time he let his fingertips explore the softness of her skin. She was truly delicate, he thought to himself as he let them wander down to her lips. She parted them for him. He raised his eyebrows behind his mask as he traced her bottom lip, just barely allowing himself inside her mouth, and felt moisture coat the top of his fingers. He brought his hand up to study his own skin that had been wet by her, the sight of that alone brought an urge to taste her to the surface.

"Who are you?" She asked as she watched his silent observation.

His eyes shot back to her. She had asked that once before, only now he was more willing to oblige her with an answer, to some degree. It was purely based on his own desire, but it might satisfy her questions for the time being. He brought both hands to the back of his mask and slowly peeled the rubber off of himself. He kept his head down and observed what was for the majority of the world his face in his own hands, but for her and only her, he would show himself as he truly was. He knelt down and gently set it aside before towering above her again. As he lifted his head, he told himself he was only doing it because he needed to if he was going to do what he was about to do, that was all. Though even Michael knew there was a part of him that felt she was deserving, even if he couldn't explain why.

(Y/n)'s face started to heat up when she realized the man behind the mask was undoubtedly handsome. He was much younger than she had expected he would be, it seemed he wasn't far off from her age. He had dark curls that framed his near perfectly structured face, the only imperfection being the scar that ran through one of his eyes. His jaw was clenched as though he was somewhat nervous under her gaze, but that subtle movement of his muscles accentuated his prominent jawline further. His brows were knit together in an almost disapproving way over his expressionless eyes, one blue, one milky white and his mouth kept tightly shut as she studied him. Each feature had such a unique and unexplainable draw that she found herself wanting to touch him, to further inspect the ever so silent and stoic man before her. Her hand wandered up, but before she could touch him, he flinched and those disapproving brows furrowed tighter than before. She held her hand in place midair as she watched him contemplate the interaction. He blinked his eyes as he studied her hand, then turned his gaze to meet her's, granting her passage to continue. She slowly reached forward and let her fingertips touch his cheek first, then steadily rested her palm over him to hold the side of his face in her hand. His eyes flickered shut and his brows relaxed at the strange new sensation. She was warm against his cool skin and he found himself resting in her touch, his head fell slightly to the side to give in further. She watched, fascinated by the way he seemed to relish in the minimal contact as if he had been starved a lifetime for it. He finally opened his eyes and took her hand in his to bring it to his lips. He didn't kiss her fingers, he simply brushed them over his skin, unsure of what exactly it was he wanted to do. Her skin was so soft.

"Won't you tell me your name?" She said softly.

Needy, he thought to himself as he began to kiss her fingers. He told himself he'd only tell her so he could hear how it sounded coming from her mouth.

"Michael," he whispered back.

"Michael," she repeated gently.

It sounded better than he'd expected in her breathy, distracted tone and it fanned those flames she'd lit within him further. Her fingers were no longer satisfying him, he needed to explore her further. He wanted her to say his name again against his lips. He dropped her hand and reached both of his forward to cup her face as he pressed his body against her's and engulfed her lips in a kiss so hungry it made her knees weak. As she melted into it she couldn't help but notice the desperation he had for her pressed up against the top of her thigh. She wasn't sure how much he would allow her to do, but as if he had read her mind, he took her arms and draped them over his shoulders in one swift movement before his hands returned to her face. She took some liberty and tangled her fingers in the curls that hung just above the back of his neck. As she tugged on his hair, Michael pressed harder against her and paid no mind to the moan that escaped his lips. He had been absolutely right, restraining himself was going to be a challenge, one more difficult than he'd expected. He wanted so badly to hear her say his name again, but this time he wanted her to cry it out. He needed to regain some control, because she had more than he realized she would with the way her fingers sent chills down his spine every time she pulled on his locks. Then she shifted against him, rubbing him so that it made him ache in such a devastatingly good way. His hand instinctively flew to her throat and wrapped itself around it in a tight embrace. She let out a gasp and he smirked against her kiss, it was the power shift he needed to know he was still in control no matter what she did or what he wanted her to do to him. He broke away from her, hand still tightly wound around her neck to keep her in place against the wall. He watched a smiled spread across her face as he struggled to catch his uneven breath. He wasn't sure what he liked more, to see her frightened or to see her look so proud of what she was doing to him. Her pride reignited that challenge he so adored, it made him want to force her to unravel, to bring her to the brink of death, but in a different way. He would make her beg for mercy and after he was done with her, she would beg for more. A smile of his own spread across his face as he reached his free hand into his pocket to retrieve his knife. When he revealed it to her he delighted in the way her smile fell and fear flickered in her eyes. He brought it down to the bottom of her dress and removed his hand from her throat to pull the material taut before he took the blade and sliced the fabric upwards. The sound of it ripping bounced off of the elevator's walls and combined with her accelerated breath, Michael was entranced. He finally reached the top and let the knife continue it's ascent upwards until the blade rested underneath her chin. She craned her neck up with it and looked at him with that same hint of excitement he'd seen in her when he first entered. She watched his grip tighten on the knife's handle until his knuckles turned pale as if he was fighting the urge to plunge it into her. She hesitantly brought her hands up to his and guided the knife to the side of her neck. If he was going to kill her he would have by now and by this point she was just as eager as he was to continue this dance, so her next words came perhaps a little too easy.

"I trust you, Michael," she breathed as she guided his knife down the side of her neck.

His was captivated by the sight of her blood dripping out from under his blade and down to her shoulder. His pupils became overblown as his desire reached its boiling point. He cast the knife aside and grabbed her by her shoulders to flip her around. He ripped her dress from her body and quickly did away with the rest of the cloth so that no part of her was hidden. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulled her back against him and craned her neck back so he could drag his tongue up towards the cut she had allowed him to give her. He collected her blood in his mouth then focused his attention on the wound, sucking with such brutality she could already feel the bruise he would leave forming under his lips. Once he had cleaned her with his tongue, he pushed her forward so that her cheek was pressed against the wall. The sound of his zipper being pulled down filled her ears and in turn, filled her with such a buzzing excitement she could barely wait the few seconds it took for him to free himself. Finally, she felt him line himself up at her entrance and without warning, he invaded her with one firm thrust that shook her to her core. Pain intermingled with a burning and intense pleasure unlike any she had felt before. He hung his head over her shoulder and the sound of his uneven breath filled her ear as he began to set a brutal and unforgiving pace. She struggled to keep her balance as he rocked into her and he seemed to take note. He wrapped an arm around her and rested his other hand against the wall, steadying the both of them as he continued his pursuit to leave her in shambles. At the same time, he himself was overwhelmed by the pleasure her tightly wound body was granting him. Sensations crept upwards from where their bodies met and into his core, tangling together inside of him like knots on the verge of snapping. His hand against the wall balled into a fist, tightening in tandem with those knots as he pushed himself inside of her with more force than before. Her head fell back against him and a cry ripped from her throat, along with a slew of praises. It was then he got what he wanted.

"Michael," she cried out as her face contorted into an expression that could only be described as pained bliss.

He was almost too much for her to take, his size combined with the intensity of his movements made her burn in a way she hadn't before. That searing sensation made her shake in his grip as he pummeled the sweet spot nestled deep inside of her. She desperately needed something to cling to as she neared the edge. She wasn't sure her legs would hold. Her hand flew back in search of his shoulder, but she barely had a sense of direction at that point.

"Michael," she keened once more as she clutched at the blue cloth of his coveralls tightly.

Without warning, he ceased his movements and removed himself from her, causing her to whine from the sudden empty feeling he'd so cruelly left her with. He flipped her around and swiftly hoisted her up so her legs could wrap around his waist. He lowered her back onto him and once he was certain she wouldn't fall, he let his hands find the back of her head so he could force her lips to his again. His fingers tangled in her hair as he attempted to keep her lips on his, but at the pace he was going, it was anything but neat. Still, she returned his sloppy kisses with the utmost enthusiasm as she felt herself approaching her climax. She reached behind her head and guided his hand in between their bodies to a spot he hadn't yet discovered. She placed his calloused fingers over her clit and guided them in little circles. It didn't take long for him to get the hang of it, but still, he followed her lead. With each circle their fingers drew together he could feel her body tightening around him more so than he thought possible. Before long, she broke their kiss and he watched her head fall back, mouth agape as her body fluttered around him. Somewhere between the way she looked, the sound of his name falling from her lips like a prayer and the trembling of her body around his, Michael came completely and utterly undone. His head fell into the crevice between her shoulder and neck as his body all but collapsed into her. It was a concerted effort to maintain his hold on her, but he did and he made sure his grip was tight around her thighs.

"(Y/n)," she heard him breath into her ear before he spilled into her.

She didn't even stop to think about the fact that she hadn't once told him her name, all she could focus on was the way his breath felt on her skin, the burn of fresh bruises on her thighs and how wonderful it felt to have been undeniably marked by him. Michael would never admit it out loud, but in a way, she had claimed him for her own as well. Though his movements had ceased, he didn't want to leave her warmth. He breathed in her scent and pressed his lips to her shoulder as she draped her arms around his neck. There was no doubt she was in shambles, just as he had intended, but he feared he was in a far worse state than he had been in before. When he lifted his head up to look at her once more, that only worsened it. Her face was flushed, her hair disheveled and her eyes were glassy as she smiled lazily at him. He felt his chest tighten in a strange way as she leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips, gentle as rain. Obsessed was now an understatement.

#Michael Myers #michael my beloved #michael audrey myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers smut #og michael myers #slasher #slasher smut #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #HORROR SMUT #horror fiction #slasher fucker #my husband

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ceruleancattail · 9 days

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Heyo!

I’ve been reading some of your horror/darker twst fics, and I LOVE THEM! So theres something I’d like to mention (?)

Theres one character that has the horror potential of the century yet I noticed you haven’t done much on him : Che’nya.

He can teleport, go invisible ( choose which limbs to make invisible or visible, plus being selectively visable to certain people) , Detach his own limbs from his body without hurting himself, have them float on their own or just throw em around.

He can also be weightless/fly too. Add that Terrifying Cheshire Grin in, plus how he hums when we first meet him…..

NOT REQUESTING ANYTHING JUST CURIOUS IF YOU KNEW SRRY IF THIS IS A BOTHER!!!

HELLO YOU READ MY DARKER FICS WE ARE IMMEDIATELY BESTIES ANON ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!

Sometimes it’s just about the darker themes, the horror of having someone just so utterly depraved and obsessed!!!!! RAHHHHHH

Anyways I promise I’m normal- BUT OK CHE’NYA LIKE YOU ARE SO REAL FOR THIS OK I AM HEARING YOU OUT (reading you out?).

Ok so real? I ACTUALLY HAD NO IDEA HE COULD TELEPORT OR DETACH HIS LIMBS. OH MY GOD. IMAGINE THE FEAR YOU’LL FEEL IF IN A BID TO ESCAPE, YOU LOP OFF HIS HEAD…. AND HE JUST CALMLY PICKS IT UP AGAIN, TWISTING IT ON. GODS THAT’S TERRIFYING.

He’s like that one character in those old horror game who’s just so nice to the protagonist. You meet him at the very start, a strange man lounging away on a tree, humming a sweet, soft tune. Yet there was a certain sadness, within the music. A certain melancholy etched deep into his features.

You call out to him, asking where you are. He’ll laugh at your plight, pointing in every single direction he could, fingers flying all over the place…. Oh, he’s a jerk at first, but he’ll agree to tag along with you for the moment. Just because you seem interesting. At the very most, watching your demise will keep him entertained for a while!

Yet as much as Che’nya’s words concern you, he’s actually been quite decent. Not as a guide, but as a companion. Showing you the rules of the world, running away from dangers just alongside you… even with every single horror this strange world thrown at you, Che’nya was right there by your side.

Again.

And again.

yet at the final moment, it’s revealed that he was the culprit all along, and every single thing he’s ever done was to keep you in the world longer and longer, until you finally rot away, in the sick, Twisted Wonderland. Whether you’ve pieced it together from the scattered clues and mangled corpses on the way, or Che’nya slips up and tells you a little more then you have to know…. You’ll find out, in the end.

That the companion you have by your side was a shackle, in the end. Weighing down on your very neck, chaining you in this world. Che’nya’s ever so apologetic about it. Cooing at you gently, caressing your cheeks softly with his hands.

Don’t you see? This was the way it was meant to be. He was so lonely until you showed up… hey, wouldn’t you stay? Both of you could star in this play of madness! Spinning around and around until both of you are dizzy, delirious, dancing on your tippy toes.

Just take his hand, and forget it all. What good did your world ever do for you, anyways? You’re much better off staying with him. Che’nya only wants what’s best for you.

As sympathetic as his voice sounds, Che’nya was still smiling. A Cheshire’s sinister grin, spread across his lips. Grinning down at you mockingly, patronisingly…. Yet you could still see some affection, in that smile. The slightest hint of fondness, leaking through that grin of his.

Because as much as Che’nya treats you as a toy, you’re still his favourite one.

You just hope he loves you enough not to break you.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Che’nya x reader #che’nya #Aruchēmi Aruchēmievichi Pinkā #Aruchēmi Aruchēmievichi Pinkā x reader #protection charm♦️

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theaxolotlkween · 2 months

Text

Some Nanite Project headcanon doodles and their explanations, going from left to right:

I doubt that Rex would say this exact thing but the idea is that, being a fairly lonely kid and someone who was probably easily bored even back then, Rex would’ve pestered the people around him a lot, which you know. Fair. I hc him as being a lot like he is now, but obviously more childish. Because literal child. So very inquisitive, curious, trusting, and empathetic, but easily bored and reckless. I feel like he would play on his own (or accidentally injure himself climbing on industrial equipment which just seems like something he just. Did. It also makes him currently being an adrenaline junkie make more sense) until he got bored (or injured) and then pester all the scientists around him that would tolerate him for long periods of time.

Next up is that Van Kleiss and Violeta Salazar (Rex’s mom) had similar or complimentary roles on the Nanite Project and thus worked together a lot. Judging by how Van Kleiss talks about Violeta in Written in Sand, they probably had a similar dynamic to Rex and Van Kleiss in that episode, except with a lot less sand and threat of imminent demise. This would be really funny to me. Also pictured Rex just hanging out, because he seems like he would be a momma’s boy. He is acting out a very tense and dramatic romance between these two cars and they are finally about to kiss. I also feel like current Rex would love K-dramas.

I honestly don’t think Van Kleiss hated or disliked Rex when Rex was a young child. I feel like he would’ve found him amusing at best, annoying at worst, and sort of weirdly endearing, but never being outright mean to him. Based on the tolerance he has for Rex’s shenanigans in the show while he has almost none for anyone else, even his own allies, this had to have started somewhere. If Rex was a chronic botherer, then someone who doesn’t get easily or outwardly annoyed would be the perfect target. Van Kleiss also still is not explaining shit, his favourite activity.

Finally, Rex naming ZagRS. This is actually one that I’ve had since I was about 14-15 because there’s no reason given for her name to be what it is. Like it’s not an acronym like GLaDOS (Genetic Lifeform and Disc Operating System), and it sounds kind of like Zagreus, an ancient Greek deity that I cannot find anything on except for who his parents might be and that he might have some connection to Dionysus. In canon, Caesar mentions that Rex speaking Spanish makes him laugh because he has trouble with pronunciation. This recently led to a whole-ass rabbit hole where I came up with the theory that Rex has just always had trouble pronouncing words because of ADHD, which fed into my already existing headcanon of Rex having named ZagRS. Also I think that Caesar was another person Rex bothered a lot because Caesar has a tendency to be pretty chill. I kind of wonder if they had to keep Rex away from ZagRS because she was designed to destroy any nanites that got out of the holding tanks.

I honestly love making these theories and headcanons so if you want to see more or have questions just pop me an ask.

#i am so disappointed that no portal references were made in a zagrs episode #you can tell i was recovering from a migraine just by seeing how slanted some of these drawings are #generator rex #generator rex headcanons #nanite project era #rex salazar #van kleiss #violeta salazar #caesar salazar #zagrs #theaxolotlposts #theaxolotlart

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aerkame · 1 year

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Haha, hi *winks at you* (●▪◡<●)ﾉ [please tell me if any of this makes you super duper uncomfy I did read the rules I'm just scared]

Wally Darling x Stressed out! Reader.,.,

[Remember that silly idea you had?! I liked it a lil too much]

The neighbor [us], had a terrible day at work, slamming open the door to their house and [not even thinking twice] immediately falling into the arms of the person who greeted them at the door. Much to their demise, said person is Wally. Wally falls limp upon being hugged, staring down at the reader who freezes once they realize who they came in contact with. They attempt to pull away but Wally.. Being Wally. Holds them in place with a stupid smile.

Twirls my hair, giggles and runs away [I'm so so so so so so sorry if this didn't make any sense imn sorry I leorve yoru writingzzzznbs I'M SORRY PLRASE FORGIVE ME]

I like my original idea as well, I'm hoping to start a full series next week!

________________________________________________________

Today did not go well at all. You had to stay extra hours at work because some group of rowdy teens decided it would be great to come into the library and start messing with the books. One had even decided to start tearing out pages from a kids' study book. The library is probably going to take that one to court, some of those books are expensive to replace and you had to spend hours reorganizing everything that was carelessly thrown across the halls and find missing pages. At least you were finally home though. You stumbled up to the front door dangling the keys in your hand as you tried and failed a few times to properly unlock the door.

You gave a sigh as you heard a distinct 'click' and swung the door open not paying attention to your surroundings and slamming it behind you. Turning towards the closet, you slowly took your shoes off before setting them down neatly inside. Gotta set a good example and keep things clean for your guests, even when you wanted to just throw things around and sleep sometimes...It really was like you just had a bunch of kids out of nowhere. At least Wally and Barnaby were here to help you.

"Welcome home dear host-"

Quickly turning around to whoever was speaking, you leaned over and plopped yourself into their greeting arms. You felt you had fallen into something soft and warm. What a welcomed feeling after today.

"Well that's one way of greeting your guests." Arms snaked around your torso as they hugged you closely. You froze, finally recognizing the voice that's been speaking to you. Slowly looking up, you saw Wally, whose face had a giant grin on it. That was not a welcomed feeling after today.

Quickly trying to pull away, you heard quiet snickering from the side somewhere. You finally managed to pop your head out of his arms, the rest of your body now snuggly wrapped in them. There was Barnaby and Sally sitting there at the dinner table watching you two and giving each other knowing looks. "Awww, looks like someone's a bit of a sleepy head!" Sally smiled as Wally walked passed them not making a single sound.

You were somewhat used to this by now. Usually Wally treated you like some significant other that needed extra care. He would pick you up and tightly hold you for hours while getting chores done in the house with you struggling and kicking until you wore yourself out, tuck you into bed at night or on sick days, paint and draw several portraits of you, make you warm food after work some days (though you wondered how he even learned how to cook), and dance with you late at night on the porch with quiet music playing. Other times the two of you would get lost in deep conversations after a long day of work, it was like he knew you without needing to know you. Wally was always so smug when he did anything though, like he knew it would get on your nerves, which it did at first. But over the past several weeks you grew used to him being coy. You felt too exhausted and stressed out to talk much today though. You didn't feel like doing much of anything really so you just let Wally do whatever he wanted for now.

You pushed against his arms only when he started to squeeze a bit too hard to let him know. He didn't loosen up however and instead made a beeline for your room, quietly opening the door and setting you down on your bed. You moved to get up but a hand came down onto your shoulder to pin you down. "Just stay here...I have something I made for you." He spoke softly for once.

Wally soundlessly walked out of your room and returned with a steaming cup of what looked like tea. You watched him effortlessly balance the cup in one hand as he removed your jacket, slinging it over his open shoulder before bringing a blanket over your legs.

"There! Now isn't that much better?"

For once you didn't see that smug or condescending grin of his. You saw something much warmer in that charming smile. You gave him a nod and gently took the cup out of his hands.

The reader works at a very busy public library for some context.

I've always wanted a job at a library. I don't know if they'd let me work at one though. I wasn't a bad kid, but there was one thing I did steal and that was a book from the library on fossils. I didn't really understand some of the words though when I was 7, but I loved that book either way.

#alive au #au #welcome home alive au #wh #welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home wally darling x reader #wally darling x reader #x reader #wh wally darling #welcome home wally x reader #fluff #welcome home fanfiction #wh fanfiction #fanfiction #medium post

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tokki-tteokbokki · 1 year

Text

One by One

Chapter Seven: The Last

Felix x Fem Reader + Hyunlix x Reader

MDNI

18+

Synopsis:

After constantly fighting with your boyfriend, Jisung, your relationship abruptly ends.

Unaware of the secret hope of your relationship's demise by your friends.

One by one, the boys can't help themselves.

Chapter Six:

Warnings:

dirty smut eheheh :), mild corruption, inexperienced felix, first time felix, brief threesome, praise, handjob, oral(m rec), semi public sex, unprotected sex, nipple play, external ejaculation

Felix sat contently with Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin in the cafeteria. Everyone taking bites out of their mid morning snacks. Minho walked up to the table after leaving your office and sending you on your covetous adventure. “Hyung!” Felix chimed, covering his mouth, trying to swallow his bite. “Hello~” Minho greeted, sitting down beside Felix. Felix looked around and realized they were a member short.

“Where’s Hyunjin?” He asked openly. Chan hide his smile by taking a drink of water. “Dancing.” Minho snickered. It took a few seconds for the other members to register what was actually happening. Jeongin turned pink, Seungmin picked up his phone and put it front of his smirking face, Changbin coughed as he tried to swallow his protein shake. Felix barely noticed his friend’s reactions, almost oblivious.

Felix smiled “He’s always working so hard. I’ll get him his favourite as a surprise.” Jeongin and Changbin’s eyes widened, Jeongin was about to say something but was stopped at Seungmin softly kicking him under the table and casually shaking his head. “That’s a great idea!” Minho praised “Right? I’ll see you guys in a bit!” Felix happily stood up collecting his phone and pushing his chair in before trotting merrily away.

The silence was broken by Chan laughing “I didn’t this he would get on the mission this fast!” Minho smirked into his apple “I gave her a bit of push.” There was a brief pause “The faster everyone fucks her the sooner Jisung will stop moping.” “Everyone doing okay?” Chan asked looking around the table. All were nodding except for Changbin, a look of uncertainty painted his face. “Changbin?” Chan taking notice to him. He held it in for a moment before breaking “Is this really the only way?” “Are you scared?” Seungmin snickered “Ya!” Changbin’s voice shouted “Of course not! But this is all seems too good to be true.” He stated. Minho smiled with his regular confidence “Relax, not only is this a perk for us. Those two idiots can finally get back together.”

Felix got Hyunjin’s drink and made his way to the rehearsal room with a pep in his step, knowing this gesture was bound to make him smile. He walked past your office, empty. He assumed you were off with the higher-ups, planning for their schedule. He walked down the corridor in his own world, daydreaming on his way. “Yongbok!” A voice called from behind, he turned around. “Jisung!” Felix greeted “Hey. Have you seen (y/n)?” Jisung’s face looked tired, like he had been up all night replaying the last conversation you two had.

“Oh, no. She’s not in her office, I think she’s with the higher-ups.” Felix relayed “Oh.” Jisung sighed. Felix’s senses went off at Jisung’s energy “You okay?” Jisung took a deep breath “I just need to talk to her, I said some things I shouldn’t have…” He regretted every word, he didn’t mean any of it… Except for the part about you fucking his friends. Truthfully, he relished in the idea of sharing you with them but would want to fuck you so hard in front of them, reminding everyone who exactly you belonged to. There was only one person in the world who knew of his secret desire.

Minho.

A late night full of drinking lead to their deepest confessions. Going over their biggest fantasies, Jisung explained with fearless liquid courage exactly what he wanted. Little did he know, Minho was in the works of making his dreams come true.

“It’ll be okay… Don’t worry.” Felix put a hand on his shoulder “I’ll let you know if I see her.” Felix sympathetically smiled, Jisung appreciated his friend’s gesture knowing that he always had his best interest in mind. “Thanks.” Jisung thanked as he turned back around and walked away. Felix felt awful about the break up between you two, he knew how much you two meant to each other… Even more, he felt guilty. He felt guilty because numerous nights he’d fantasize about you, spanning from before you and Jisung started dating to now.

Your caring and soft demeanour intrigued him. As someone who has never been kissed, he felt you were the kind of person he’d want to have his first experience with. Time went on and he’d imagine what other things would feel like. He’d imagine how gentle you’d be when you touch him, what your voice would sound like when you praised him for pleasing you. Eventually, he found himself thrusting into his hand, his tip throbbing for release at the thought of you.

Felix continued his way, coming to door he heard the boom of the base. He reached for the knob but heard another sound. Whimpering and moaning. Quietly, he opened the door a crack and peered through. His jaw dropped at the sight. Staring into the reflection, he saw you bouncing on Hyunjin’s cock in complete bliss, Hyunjin gripping your body like a lifeline.

He sneakily opened the door wider, being as quiet as possible. He wanted to see how this was to end. He slipped in the room, standing there completely awestruck at the naughty scene unfolding before him. It wasn’t long before his body started to react, his heartbeat sped up and he felt the blood rush to his cock. He watched as Hyunjin brought you both to completion. You both slumped onto each other, out of breath.

Felix was completely frozen as you and Hyunjin began to move. You stood up and turned to face Hyunjin but immediately noticed Felix. Your pulse skyrocketed and your eyes almost bulged. Hyunjin noticed your petrified expression and turned his head back and met Felix’s stunned stare. A brief moment of panic loomed over all of you and the silence was too painful to bear. Finding his strength Felix quivered “I-I brought you an americ-cano.” His arm raising to show off the iced drink. Hyunjin smiled at the gesture “Come here.” You both looked at Hyunjin, completely confused as to how calm he was. Maybe it was the post nut calmness that kept him cool.

You awkwardly tried to shuffle over to reach your clothes but was stopped as Hyunjin grabbed your wrist, giving you a implying eye. You stayed still and watched as Felix willed himself to come closer. “H-he-here.” He stuttered passing the drink to Hyunjin. Hyunjin took a big sip, exhaling in satisfaction at the taste. He looked back at Felix “It’s okay, (y/n) and I were just showing off dance moves.” He smiled big. “O-oh.” Felix stammered, looking at you in all your nude glory. His cock flexed as he admired your body.

“Pretty right?” Hyunjin interjected “M-mhm.” Felix was painfully bashful as he nodded his head in agreement. “She’s awfully pretty when she’s being fucked don’t you think?” You swallowed hard not knowing what to expect now. “(y/n)” Hyunjin called you standing up from the chair “Sit”. You obeyed and took a seat. Hyunjin pulling his bottoms back up with one hand.

Your knees were pressed together watching as Felix shifted around, his eyes unable to leave you. “Felix,” Hyunjin’s began “Do you want to kiss her?” He asked slipping an arm around his shoulder. He looked at you and suddenly you relaxed. You had the control here. You gently nodded your head, giving him the okay. “Y-yeah, I do…” Felix froze in place, he didn’t know what to do.

There you were, ready and willing. Your nakedness was breathtaking. Hyunjin realized Felix would need more a push “Here, I’ll show you.” Felix still under Hyunjin’s arm they moved closer to you. He gestured for Felix to stay on your right so he could get a good view. Hyunjin placed himself in front of you. “Now, you want to be gentle and sensual.” Hyunjin’s hand cupped your cheek “Just like this.” Felix watched and listened intently, he wanted to do this right. He wanted to make you feel good. Hyunjin smiled at how attentive his band mate was being.

Slowly, Hyunjin leaned in. His breath lingered at your lips for just a moment before his parted lips pressed effortlessly against yours. Hyunjin pulled away and you both looked at Felix. He was blushing an adorable shade of pink underneath his freckles. “Ready?” Hyunjin motioned for Felix to take his place. “Ready.” Felix confirmed.

You were excited, your body already reacting to the thought of Felix’s perfectly shaped lips against yours. Felix took a moment to remove his jacket, he was getting undeniably hot from the whole ordeal. He swallowed hard with nerves before he began to come closer to you. His breath was audible, slightly shaky. “It’s okay, kiss me Felix.” You softly whispered. One corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile.

You felt his hand cup your cheek the same way Hyunjin did. He breath tickled your lips and then finally you felt his lips on yours. He began to kiss you gently and then a little harder. You moaned into the kiss, grabbing both sides of his face. When you finally broke from each other, you both looked at Hyunjin. He stood proudly, sipping his drink. “That was good!” He swallowed “Doesn’t she taste good?” He smirked. You lightly blushed at the remark to which Felix nodded enthusiastically.

Straw in his mouth “Felix, do you want (y/n) to play with you?” Hyunjin asked. Felix looked at you with puppy eyes. Oh my God, he’s so adorable. “Play with me, Noona.” Felix almost whimpered. You almost lost control and threw yourself on him but you held back knowing that Hyunjin still wanted to teach. “(y/n), can Felix touch you?” You looked at Hyunjin and then to Felix, smiling. “Of course.”

Hyunjin made his way behind you, setting the drink on the floor. His hands moved past your neck and down to you breasts. “Pretty huh?” Hyunjin cheekily asking Felix. He was almost drooling as Hyunjin groped and rubbed your tits. You let out a faint moan. Hyunjin’s fingers found their way to your eager nipples, pinching them between his fingers and rolling. You gasped at the feeling.

“Felix, her nipples are really sensitive. They’re getting so hard. Fingers are great but try using your mouth. Come here” Felix inched closer, he looked hungrily looked at your nipples. Hyunjin’s hands moved to you shoulders as if to hold you in place. Felix looked up at you for reassurance, you smiled and nodded eagerly.

His tongue extended out of his mouth and flicked your nipple, making you jump. “…More.” You moaned. Felix felt his dick jump hearing you sound so satisfied. He started again giving little licks around. “Suck on them.” Hyunjin instructed. Felix wasted no time, he wrapped his lips around your nipple and gave you pulsing sucks. “Ah!” You cried, grabbing onto the back of his head. He let out a deep moan that vibrated into your breast that made you squirm.

“That’s good! She can barely stay still” Hyunjin chuckled still holding you in place. Felix continued sucking and moving his tongue around, his other hand finding your other tit to give it attention. He followed Hyunjin’s motions and pinched your nipple. “F-Felix” You whimpered “She’s probably ready” Hyunjin smirked “Open her legs” Felix pulled himself away and spread your knees apart. He inhaled sharply as he saw your glistening cunt on full display. Hyunjin peered down “Oh she’s more than ready.”

He snickered “(y/n), show him where your clit is.” You held out your hand to Felix. You guided his finger to the bud of bursting nerve endings, “Mm, right there.” You sighed “Slowly move your finger up and down over it, remember to be gentle.” Hyunjin instructed. Felix watched your reactions intently as he began to move. “Oh Felix, that’s good baby.” You moaned. Felix’s chest fluttered at your praise.

Hyunjin tilted your chin up and kissed you messily, moaning into his mouth from the pleasure of Felix rubbing you. Suddenly, you felt a finger poke at your dripping little hole, you squealed against Hyunjin’s lips. Hyunjin proud of his inexperienced pal taking the lead, he plunged his tongue into your mouth. Felix, riding his new found confidence squeezed his finger inside you. “Oh my God.” You hear from mumble from below you. Fascinated, Felix began to finger you, constantly looking up at your beautifully scrunched face and listening for the harmonies of your moans.

Hyunjin pulled away and looked at you from above “I trust you’ll show him the rest?” You smiled at him “I got this.” He smiled and wandered next to Felix who was lost in your pussy. “Felix,” He put a hand on his shoulder, making Felix aware “She’ll take good care of you.” Hyunjin stood up, buttoning his shirt and taking his americano with him, he left the room feeling satisfied in more ways than one.

“Felix” You looked down at him “Hm?” “Come here, I want to touch you.” You boldly stated. Felix took his finger out and stood up. Immediately, you noticed his dick begging to be freed from his jeans. You pulled him closer by his waist band. Felix shivered at the feeling of your delicate hands. His face became bashful again, no one had ever seen his dick like this. “Don’t worry” You comforted him as you unzipped him. You pulled his bottoms down and his cock sprung out. You gently wrapped your hand around and stroked upwards once, an immediate release of precum came from his over sensitive tip. “Noona..” His voice became an octave higher. Your hand was devine, better than he ever fantasized.

His brows furrowed and his mouth agape with pants escaping. “Does it feel good?” You looked up at him “So good, Noona… It’s s-so good.” He whimpered, he started bucking his hips back and forth to get more friction. His desperation was adorable. You leaned forward and planted a kiss on his pink tip “Ah Noon-!!” His words cut off as you took him in your mouth. His hand found it’s way on your head as you took him in and out, lapping your tongue around. Felix felt himself being pushed closer to the brink of orgasm. Before he could release he pulled out, leaned down and started kissing you. His sweet gasping intoxicated you, you pulled his hoodie over his head. Exposing a perfectly defined body. “Noona… Please let me make you feel good.”

Felix laid his hoodie on the floor behind you in an attempt to make the hard floor more comfortable. You laid back as Felix hovered over you, sensing his nerves, you helped guide his dick to your dripping entrance. You looked at you one more time for reassurance, you tilted your hips up for confirmation. Never breaking eye contact you felt him ease in. Your face shifted into a lovely expression of pleasure, Felix panted heavily as he continued pushing. “Good boy, keep going.” You praised. Felix moaned loudly at your words, all his wildest inner desires coming true underneath him.

Felix carefully began to thrust, the feeling almost too good. “Noona, you’re so wet..! It feels so good!” He whimpered “F-faster, baby.” Felix sped up, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. His rock hard dick brushing against every hot spot in your pussy. You began to tighten around him, making Felix drop his head into the crook of your neck.

His whimpers and cries of pleasure sounded into your ear, driving you to your end. “Felix, I-I’m gonna-“ “Noona, please. Cum for me!” He wrapped one hand around the back of your neck to make sure you felt every thrust. Your walls clenched around him and you exploded orgasmic pulses on his cock.

Felix sloppily thrusted “Can I cum on you?” He shyly asked, you smiled in agreement. His focus now on chasing his end. His face contorted and you felt his dick twitch. He pulled out and jerked his cum all over your swollen cunt.

“You did so good, Felix.” You panted. He smiled and leaned forward, giving you a tender kiss. Felix retrieved some paper towel and helped you clean up before collecting your clothes. You both dressed and sat casually on the floor next to each other.

“How was that for your first time?” Felix looked at you, grinning swinging an arm around you. Ready to tell you how grateful he was.

Hyunjin walked into the cafeteria where his member anxiously awaited the news. Seungmin was the first to notice him “Guys.” He gestured with his head. The rest of the members turned to Hyunjin who began to try to hide his smile. He sat down in Felix’s empty spot and exhaled. “So” Changbin said, awkwardly looking down at his near empty shake. “So” Jeongin joined. Minho couldn’t contain his laughter to which Chan joined. Hyunjin leaned forward “You could’ve given me a warning.” He dramatized “Saw an opportunity and took it.” Minho shrugged. “Where’s Felix?” Changbin added. Hyunjin smirked “Exactly where I was.”

Minho praised himself for his quick orchestration. Now that everyone had their chance at you and finale could finally be planned. Jisung’s ultimate fantasy could unfold and the chance of you two reconciling could be within reach. Minho exhaled and looked at Chan “I think it’s about I told them the plan.” Chan smiled and nodded in agreement. The rest of the members looked at each other curiously, what wondering what craziness lay ahead.

You left the rehearsal studio and made your way back to your office. Upon opening the door, you were startled by someone already inside. “What the hell?” “Hi~” Minho chimed looking up at you. “You scared the shit out of me.” You scolded walking over to your chair. “Sorry about that.” He playfully apologized. “What are you doing here?” You plopped down “You did good, (y/n). Hyunjin and Felix? I’m impressed” You rolled eyes realizing that Minho was behind Felix coming in. “There’s one last thing” Minho began “Huh?” You flexed your brows “This last thing is what’s going to get you two back together.” You slouched back, looking at him intently.

Minho began to explain the final part of this whole plan, you could barely believe what you were hearing. You paced around your office, processing, calling him insane, processing some more, before settling back into your chair and reluctantly beginning to help scheme the last phase of this crazy ordeal.

tag list: @eastleighsblog @catlove83

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patchworkgargoyle · 5 months

Text

with a bang 🎊

A gift for the lovely and talented Joey (@matchingbatbites) as part of our STuad server holiday gift exchange! I hope you enjoy, and have a lovely new year <3

Based on the prompts: impact play, secret relationship, and "don't be mean to me." Fingers crossed I did them justice! Rated: E || 4.7k words || CW: impact play, unprotected sex Full tag list on ao3!

Eddie was going to combust. He was also debating whether he should plot Robin’s untimely demise or send her a Thank You bouquet. Dressing up for their New Years party had been her idea, after all, and once she got Nancy on her side there was no swaying either of them, no matter how much the rest of them had hemmed and hawed. Eddie didn’t see a point to it; he’d thought they were just calling it a New Years party as an excuse to hang out without the rugrats for once, but then Robin wanted to make it a party party. With champagne and shit. And fancy clothes.

Once Argyle had confirmed he could wear whatever colours he wanted, so long as the clothes were dressy, Eddie knew his fate was sealed. He’d been the biggest—and loudest—nay-sayer, but with Jonathan, Steve, and Vickie being more or less neutral, his hard-fought battle against a dress code had been lost.

And jesus christ, is he ever glad he lost.

He got to Steve’s place last after he hit up the liquor store, the three bottles of the cheapest sparkling wine in his arms bought with their pooled funds. They nearly smashed on the Harrington stoop when Steve opened the front door he’d obnoxiously kicked looking like… well.

Steve owned a suit, apparently. A nice one. God, it must be tailored or some shit with how well it fit. His shoulders were so broad in the suit jacket, the black tie looking at home around Steve’s throat under the pressed white collar. Black dress pants made his legs long. Even that signature swoop in his hair was perfectly coiffed. Eddie’s eyes devoured the sight before him, and the first and foremost thought in his mind was that he wanted to get Steve out of that suit as soon as goddamn possible. Especially when Steve began to smirk at him knowingly.

His second thought was that he was so screwed.

They’d been hooking up for a bit now, was the thing. It was new. They hadn’t told anyone yet because they wanted to keep it to themselves, figure it out a little, have fun before the kids learned about it and got nosy. When they’d started talking about going on dates, though—and if his past self knew he’d be planning a date with Steve Harrington he’d blow a gasket—they’d agreed to say something once New Years was over. But how the hell was Eddie going to keep his mouth shut, not to mention his hands to himself, when Steve looked like that!?

“You’re wearing that?” he hissed. “This is cruel and unusual, Steve. This is torture. Why are you dressed like that when I can’t do anything about it!”

Shrugging, Steve whispered, “It’s my only suit, it’s all I had to wear.”

Eddie felt he was being too nonchalant about this and narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth to complain more but then he heard Nancy’s voice from inside. “What are you guys doing? It’s cold out!” she said with a laugh, and Steve cocked an eyebrow and stepped aside so Eddie could come in.

Steve took the bottles so Eddie could get out of his coat, and he did notice, with no small amount of satisfaction, that Steve’s eyes were on him too. Eddie might not have a tailored suit, but his black dress shirt and slacks fit him pretty damn well, he figured, and the way Steve was looking at him made it clear he thought the same. Eddie stuck his tongue out between his teeth and wiggled his eyebrows at Steve suggestively and earned a dark, desirous look from him that promised later and sent a thrill down Eddie’s spine.

But later was getting harder and harder to wait for. As their little party went on, Steve found more ways to drive Eddie up the fucking wall, when he’d rather be pushed into the wall, secrecy be damned.

It was all the little touches, the fleeting looks. Steve developed a habit of tugging on Eddie’s belt loops when no one was looking, or the sleeve of his shirt; something that would grab Eddie’s attention and pull him just a smidge closer. When they’d ended up sitting next to each other on the couch Steve gradually shifted into Eddie’s space and their thighs kept touching, and Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have his legs tangled with Steve’s in his bed. And then, when their eyes met, Eddie swore Steve would check him out. It was always quick, but he could practically feel it when Steve looked at his lips, or where his shirt collar was undone. Eddie went red every time.

Eventually Eddie decided to give as good as he got, though that may have also been fueled by the cheap wine. He’d watch Steve over the rim of his glass until Steve caught on and licked his lips when Steve’s eyes flicked downward, only glancing away after a few seconds of holding his gaze. Letting his arm drape casually over the back of the couch so he could brush his fingers down the nape of Steve’s neck was absolutely a risk, but it was worth it when Steve’s breath hitched and he stumbled over his words. He was talking to Jonathan, though, who was high as a kite and didn’t notice. Hopefully.

They kept upping the ante all night and Eddie was a stiff breeze away from getting hard from all the tension by the time midnight crept up on the group. Five minutes before the countdown, Nancy herded them all out to Steve’s backyard in a rush. The town stretched out in the distance, lights glittering in the dark winter night. An occasional screech and flash of colour from premature fireworks interrupted the anticipatory silence that hung over Hawkins. Vickie helped Robin uncork the last bottle of champagne, and the teens passed it around, refilling their glasses as they huddled close to fend off the cold.

“Did we really have to stand outside for this?” Steve grumbled. He stood between Eddie and Robin and kept bumping shoulders with both of them.

“Duh, we can’t see the fireworks from inside, dingus,” Robin said, even though she shivered the hardest out of all of them. Vickie was tucked into her side and had her arms wrapped around Robin’s waist to try to keep warm.

Steve crossed his arms and glared out across the snowy lawn. “We could’ve grabbed our coats at least.”

“I did mean to give us more time to get ready, but it’s too late now.” Nancy looked at her watch. “Two minutes until midnight.”

When Eddie shoved his free hand in his pocket and shivered extra hard, Steve leaned into him, and it took every bit of willpower to not give in to the urge to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. Or kiss him. The idea of being openly affectionate with Steve made Eddie feel all fizzy inside in the best way. He was glad they were going to tell everyone after this. As fun as it had been, keeping this between themselves, he was getting tired of having to hide how he felt. He wanted their friends to know, wanted to touch and kiss his boyfrie—Steve without having to sneak around.

“Anyone got a wish they wanna make?” Argyle asked, and everyone else shot him confused looks.

“I don’t think people make wishes on New Years,” Jonathan said haltingly. “Do you mean resolutions?”

“Nah dude, I think wishes are better. Less pressure, y’know?”

Eddie tipped his head thoughtfully. “That’s a good point,” he said, and Argyle beamed at him.

“Yeah, that sounds like a nice idea.” Vickie agreed. “We should all think of a wish!”

“Just don’t say what it is or it won’t come true. Told my sister that I wished on a dandelion that my skateboard would never break but the next day it snapped like–” Argyle mimed breaking something over his knee, complete with sound effects. “It was a total bummer, man.”

“Wasn’t that the one you cracked and duct taped over?” Jonathan asked, bloodshot eyes narrowed as he tried to remember.

“Yeah, but like, with the good tape.”

Nancy gave an amused, but pinched, smile when she said, “Half a minute.”

Steve shuffled and Eddie looked over at him. He was so unfairly handsome tonight, freckled cheeks and nose flushed from the chill, and though his hair wasn’t quite as perfect anymore it just made him look roguish. Eddie wanted to get his hands in it. He wanted to kiss Steve so much it hurt. Subtly, Eddie slipped his hand from his pocket and wiggled the tips of his fingers in-between Steve’s, and Steve looked down at his feet to hide his smile, giving Eddie’s fingers a brief squeeze.

His heart beat a rapid staccato in his chest and Eddie knew right then what he was going to wish for.

“Ten seconds!” Nancy announced, then counted down, and everyone joined in, grinning at each other excitedly. Five seconds, three, one, and–

A whole chorus of screeching, banging fireworks from the town almost drowned out their cheers of Happy New Year! A riot of colours burst across the sky, spilling over the untouched snow and lighting up their faces, and Eddie silently sent his wish up into the sky with them.

Steve didn’t look at anyone but him, his face soft with affection. And Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off Steve. The fireworks looked better reflected in his eyes anyway.

“Hey, can you help me grab something from inside?” Steve asked, and Eddie nodded frantically.

Robin snorted when Steve and Eddie scampered off, but Eddie paid her no mind. He was too busy following Steve through the house filled with the loud music they’d forgotten to turn off. When he realised they were heading upstairs, heat began to burn low in his belly and anticipation buzzed under his skin. He wasn’t sure if they were out of view yet, but he didn’t care, giving Steve’s ass a light smack and smirking when Steve shot a glare over his shoulder. How could he be expected to resist? It was right in front of him!

They hurried down the hallway to Steve’s room, and Eddie was barely through the doorway when Steve shut it and crowded him up against it to kiss him. Eddie groaned hungrily and parted his lips for Steve’s tongue, the kiss turning messy with their enthusiasm. He felt Steve yanking his shirt out of his slacks and flinched, gasping, when Steve’s cold fingers touched his scarred sides.

“Been driving me nuts all night, Eds,” Steve muttered against Eddie’s lips, his hands inching up Eddie’s shirt. “You look so good all dressed up, god. When you touched my neck I almost caved and pinned you to the couch.”

Eddie laughed. “I couldn’t help myself,” he purred.

“Yeah well, it was a dick move.” Steve reached Eddie’s chest and swiped his chilly thumb over Eddie’s hardened nipple before pinching and rolling it, making him whimper. “Kinda think I should get some payback for it.”

“Don’t be mean to me, Stevie,” Eddie said, but his tone was deliberately teasing even as he squirmed a bit under Steve’s hands. He loved pressing his luck with Steve, pushing his buttons and seeing what it got him.

Steve arched an eyebrow, then shoved his knee between Eddie’s thighs, pressing into Eddie’s rapidly hardening cock. His mouth fell open and he rocked into the pressure. But then Steve’s hands grabbed him by the hips and held him still, pinned to the door, and Eddie whined.

“You teased me all night, and you think I’ll make it easy for you?” Steve smirked before he leaned down to kiss Eddie’s collarbones, nipping at Eddie’s skin to make him twitch ineffectually in his grip. All the while, he kept lightly grinding his thigh against Eddie’s dick, barely enough movement to taunt him.

Eddie groaned. “You teased me too!”

Steve slapped Eddie’s thigh and the shock of it, more than the light sting of it, made Eddie bite his lip to muffle a moan. “You made it worse,” Steve whispered into his ear as he soothed the spot he’d slapped with a gentle touch. “So yeah, I’m gonna be a little mean.”

Teeth caught his earlobe and Eddie shuddered, unable to contain a triumphant grin. Holy shit, he was excited for this. He fucking loved it when this side of Steve came out to play.

Straightening up, Steve let go of Eddie’s hips to work at the knot in his tie. “Ride my thigh,” he said as the knot came free and he whipped the tie off, flinging it somewhere into the room. Eddie nodded and started rolling his hips. The relief at being able to move was almost as powerful as the surge of arousal he felt at the command. His slacks were tight over his cock but the friction was so delicious. Steve’s strong thigh kept Eddie’s legs apart enough that he had to brace himself on Steve’s shoulders. It gave him enough stability to really grind, and jesus christ, between all the flirting and teasing and touching all night, and this, Eddie could already feel his orgasm building. Shit.

And the way Steve looked wasn’t helping anything. A lock of hair had come free over his forehead, making him look more artfully dishevelled, and Steve had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, dark curls of hair peeking out. Eddie wanted to eat him, be eaten by him. He dug his fingers into Steve’s shoulders and pulled him into a demanding kiss, licking into his mouth and swallowing his low moan.

While they kissed, Steve made quick work of Eddie’s shirt, and as soon as it was gone Steve’s hands were on him again, greedy and grasping. One wide palm held the back of his head, tugging lightly at his hair, and the other guided Eddie’s hips faster. Heat blazed in his gut and Eddie’s desperate grinding was starting to lose its tempo.

“S-Steve, oh fuck, gonna come in my pants i-if I keep going,” Eddie rasped.

“You can keep going a little longer,” Steve replied, no, insisted.

“I can’t,” Eddie whined. Steve slapped his thigh again, harder this time, and Eddie’s whine went embarrassingly high and reedy.

“Might have to be a little mean if you can’t keep going. Do you want that, baby?”

Oh yes he fucking did. “Yes, yes, fuck, Steve, yes I do,” he babbled, and Steve clicked his tongue like he was disappointed. But all Eddie saw in his face was devoted hunger, hazel eyes intense with it, making something swoop in Eddie’s gut.

“Your choice,” Steve said casually. Then he slapped him again, on the same, still stinging spot, and Eddie threw his head back as he came soundlessly, making a mess of his boxers, immediately feeling warm and sticky as he gasped for air and clung to Steve.

Steve held him through it, made sure his head didn’t smash into the door, muttering, “So pretty when you come, Eddie. Couldn’t help it, could you? S’okay. You’ll make it up to me.”

“I will, I will Steve, whatever you want.”

“Good boy,” Steve said, low and confident. Eddie shivered at the words and his eager groan was silenced when Steve kissed him, taking him by the hand and leading him with teasing, bitey kisses to the bed.

Eddie’s knees hit the bed and he let himself fall, bouncing on the eyesore of a duvet and quickly scrambling to get his slacks off, cringing at the way his cum made his boxers stick to him. At least he had a spare pair here. Steve grabbed the lube from his nightstand and chucked it onto the bed, then stood between Eddie’s legs and stared, swallowing at the sight of Eddie sprawled out on his bed. Smirking, Eddie spread his legs further, tilting his chin back as he tossed his hair. Seeing Steve still fully clothed, in a suit no less, hard cock bulging in his dress pants while Eddie was bare fucking naked below him made Eddie feel electric. He wiggled a little just to ease the frisson skittering along his nerves.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

Reaching out, Steve trailed his big fingers along the sensitive skin of Eddie’s inner thigh reverently, goosebumps rising in his wake. “Always do.”

How Steve managed to sound turned on and sincere, Eddie had no idea, but it made his heart do flips in his chest.

Steve started slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt as his eyes lingered over Eddie’s body. “Turn over for me,” he said, and Eddie obeyed quickly, getting on his knees and elbows. Stretching out across the blankets, he looked over his shoulder at Steve and wiggled his ass in the air.

“C’mon Stevie,” he urged, drawing out the syllables, “I wanna know what you’re planning in that pretty head of yours.”

“Jesus, you’re impatient.” Steve shook his head, but there was a fond smile tugging at his lips and he did speed up. Once undressed—and Eddie would never get over the sight of Steve naked, or the sheer size of his cock, jesus christ—he stepped closer to the bed and yanked Eddie in by his hips, making him yelp. “Maybe you should ask me politely,” he said.

“Pretty please, Stevie, with a cherry on t—aah!”

The slap to his asscheek rang out in the room, the sting radiating out all warm and tingly. Eddie made a short, whiny noise as his dick gave a valiant twitch. There was a click from behind him and Eddie jumped when he felt cold lube drip over his hole, then down his taint. Steve dragged his thumb through it, then rubbed soothingly over the ring of muscle.

“Count them for me.”

Eddie nodded and counted that first slap, then the next two, alternating sides each time. Steve kept massaging his hole, then pressing in gently when Eddie relaxed between each smack. By the fifth slap Eddie’s cheeks were prickling painfully, and his cock started to fill out again, hanging heavy between his legs and twitching almost painfully at every slap. He knew his pale skin must be so red.

Steve paused and brushed his free hand over Eddie’s heated, sore skin. “You doing okay, Eds?”

“Yep, oh yeah, so fucking okay,” he breathed, “green, golden, whatever. I’m so good.”

Laughing, Steve bent over and kissed the small of Eddie’ back. “Such a good boy for me, baby. Now keep counting.”

With each smack, Eddie felt his belly tighten further and further. He was so fucking aroused he’d began to writhe and rock back onto Steve’s thumb, then his fingers when he started stretching Eddie, prepping him. By the time they got to nine, Eddie was shaking, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh god, Steve, please, I want you to fuck me already, please please please,” he begged.

“I dunno. You think you’ve made it up to me yet?”

Another slap, and Eddie sobbed out, “Ten! Yes, please Stevie, I’ve been good!”

Steve’s fingers pulled out of Eddie’s hole and he sobbed again, clenching around nothing. “You’re okay, Eds, you have been good, I’ve got you,” Steve reassured. There was a wet sound, and soon enough the blunt head of Steve’s slicked-up cock pressed against Eddie’s stretched hole. He rubbed his clean hand down along the curve of Eddie’s spine, the tender touch almost overwhelming in comparison to the hot pain in his cheeks. “Ready?” Steve asked.

“God yes.”

Eddie muffled his guttural moan in the covers as Steve pushed in, also groaning in relief. And he didn’t waste much time. Eddie was loose enough that Steve’s short, sharp thrusts brought them flush together with little effort, though Eddie still felt stretched out and so fucking full. They stayed like that for a moment, adjusting to the feeling together. The way Steve breathed, heavy and quick, told Eddie that he was getting control of himself. That Steve was close to coming just from slapping him around made him grin and squeeze around his cock like a tease.

“Eddie, that’s unfair,” Steve grunted and grabbed a small handful of ass in retaliation. Pain burned deliciously under his hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie said only a tiny bit insincerely. He felt Steve laugh more than he heard it.

Then Steve started to move again. The slow drag of his cock made Eddie shudder, able to feel every vein before he plunged back in again. Groaning low in his throat, Steve said, “Fuck, Eddie, wish you could see yourself.” Both his hands grabbed at Eddie’s ass, and he jerked and whimpered at the pain. “So pretty and red.”

Eddie just whined wordlessly, and Steve’s thrusts sped up. Fists white-knuckled in the covers, he rocked back eagerly, desperate for the feeling rising like a tide about to crash over him. Steve’s cock felt so fucking good, but then Steve got a knee up on the mattress and he draped himself over Eddie’s back and the angle drove him right into Eddie’s prostate, over and over. Eddie couldn’t help the sweet, needy cries that tumbled out of his mouth as his pleasure mounted.

Fingers entwined with his. It was Steve’s favourite thing to do during sex and it’d quickly become Eddie’s too. One more point of connection, a soft gesture no matter how hard they were fucking each other, and it made Eddie melt every time. He squeezed Steve’s fingers, maybe a little too hard, but Steve just fucked him faster, the sound of skin slapping against sweaty skin mingling with their moaning.

“Steve, gonna come, soon, holy shit. T-touch me? Please, want you to touch me,” Eddie said.

“Me too, god, I’ve got you.”

Reaching down, Steve wrapped his hand around Eddie’s aching, dripping cock and jerked him in time with his thrusts. Eddie was fucking overwhelmed. Steve’s hand, Steve’s cock, he didn’t know which feeling to chase, couldn’t tell the difference as he sped towards the crest of his climax. Fresh tears sprang to his eyes, his legs shook, the only anchor he had was Steve’s hand in his and he clung to it as he moaned Steve’s name.

“I’m so close, wanna come with you,” Steve begged raggedly. “Come for me, Eddie, please baby.”

The urgency in his voice and the way Steve’s rhythm grew sloppy and rough pushed Eddie over the edge finally, gloriously. His orgasm crashed over him and he came with a choked cry, rutting into Steve’s grip as he spilled on the duvet. Steve’s forehead dropped onto Eddie’s back and with a few hard pumps of his hips he came too, warm and deep inside Eddie.

Eddie’s legs gave out and he collapsed on the bed, grunting when Steve came down with him. They both laughed breathlessly, and Steve rolled off him, lazily scooting up the bed and trying to pull Eddie along too. Though he felt like a limp noodle, Eddie gave in and fumbled his way up and into Steve’s sweaty arms. Head resting on his chest, Eddie could hear how Steve’s heartbeat steadily slowed to something calm, and could feel his own slow to match.

Music was still blasting downstairs, and fireworks were still going off here and there outside. One flashed close to Steve’s window, a shower of green and gold that lit up Steve’s gorgeous eyes.

“Happy New Year, Steve,” he whispered.

Smiling, Steve kissed Eddie sweet and slow, then said, “Happy New Year, Eddie.”

Eddie returned the smile, but it grew into something cheeky when he got an awful idea. He saw the suspicion grow across Steve’s face. “I guess we, uh… really started the year off with a bang,” he said, and Steve’s head fell back onto his pillow with a pained groan.

When they both woke up, Steve eventually managed to coax Eddie out of bed so they could get breakfast started for everyone. It didn’t take much coaxing when he reminded Eddie that he planned to make french toast just for him. Dressed in Steve’s borrowed pyjamas, Eddie blearily trudged downstairs with him.

Their friends must have found their ways to the various guest rooms, because the living room and kitchen were empty. It looked like half of the mess from last night had been tidied, and Eddie shook his head with a smile when he imagined Nancy trying to clean before being convinced to go to bed.

Eddie took up his usual spot, seated on the counter—despite the soreness from last night—and mostly out of the way while Steve got everything together. He looked so soft in the light and his old, worn Hawkins High Basketball shirt, his hair ravaged by sleep. Sighing, Eddie propped his chin in his hand as he watched him move around the kitchen.

Steve caught him staring and put his hands on his hips. “What?”

“You’re just sooo handsome,” Eddie cooed, “I’d eat you for breakfast instead.” He snapped his teeth and Steve snorted and rolled his eyes as he closed the distance between them.

“Probably healthier to eat french toast,” he said. Hands on the counter at either side of Eddie’s knees, Steve looked up at Eddie. “And Robin would kill you for killing me.”

Clicking his tongue, Eddie tilted his head in agreement. “Yep. Probably. She’d have to enact some sort of best friend revenge clause if I murdered you and I don’t think I want to incur the Wrath of Buckley.”

“I don’t recommend it. She’s clumsy but if she does manage to land a hit she can kinda pack a punch.”

Eddie leaned in and wiggled his eyebrows, letting out a low, suggestive hum. “So do you,” he said, and even though Steve rolled his eyes again he also smiled. He barely had to tip his chin up to reach Eddie’s lips, and they traded a few kisses in the quiet morning sunlight. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, his hands inevitably finding their way into Steve’s hair.

They were both so distracted that they didn’t notice someone walk into the kitchen.

“Morning, brochachos,” Argyle said cheerily, and Steve and Eddie jumped away from each other, red faced and wide eyed. “Oh shit, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt the love fest!”

“Wh-huh?” Eddie said eloquently.

“It’s—uh,” Steve followed up.

Robin peered around the doorway next. “You two done or are you gonna burn breakfast?”

“It’s not gonna burn, Robs,” Steve frowned, but then said, “wait. Why aren’t you freaking out?”

The flat look Robin gave him made Eddie snort, even if it was kind of about him, too. “You’re kidding, right? I had my suspicions, Steve, but last night confirmed everything. You couldn’t keep your eyes off each other all night, it was ridiculous. And then the whole, ‘can you help me grab something from inside’ thing was the most obvious excuse ever.”

“And you didn’t come back down after that,” Nancy said as she and Jonathan walked in. “Morning, Eddie.”

“Uh. Uh-huh. Good morning. So, hold on, none of you care?” Eddie asked.

“Like I said, kind of already knew. We were just waiting for you to tell us,” Robin said as she poured coffee into two mugs. “I gotta tell Vickie exactly how right I was, be right back. And the french toast is burning, Steve.” Steve swore and jogged over to the stove.

Jonathan pulled a mug out of the cupboard as he spoke next. “I think it’s great you guys are boyfriends. It’s a good fit, y’know?”

Eddie’s heart thumped and he looked at Steve, who turned around from trying to save the first batch of breakfast from incendiary doom. Steve’s cheeks were a little red, and he was smiling shyly. Shrugged a bit, like a question. Beaming at him, Eddie said, “Yeah. Boyfriends. I think it’s great too.”

Dividers by @/saradika and @/cafekitsune

#matchingbatbites #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #sav scrawls stuff

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