#so to write a believable au where he doesn’t get to that point (not in a redemption style. just. life taking him to a slightly different

[millerscoffee]

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals.  It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it.  So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front.  He hands out papers, hovering by your desk.  Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down.  You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings.  “Shit,” you say to yourself.  That was it.  That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course.  You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling.  You failed.  Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind.  What were you to do?  How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it.  The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller.  Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes.  His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns.  He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve.  A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt.  Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him.  “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?”  Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl.  Proving not to judge a book by its cover.  The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff.  Predicates and imagery?  I’d rather be learning about biology.  But I need this course, you know.  And I…,” you swallow hard.  God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher.  He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,”  Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table.  He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms.  Keeps his distance.  “It happens, you know.  There are things we can do to accommodate.  You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail.  You have options.  I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final.  Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare.  You know the workload of this university.  Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?”  You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it.  The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help.  You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all.  I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though.  You’d have to come by my house…,”  he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course.  If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it.  You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did.  Though, that was neither here nor there.  His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing.  Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place.  But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay.  Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race.  Tonight?  Tonight?!  Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.”  How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively.  “Here’s my address.  7 o’clock.”

“Seven.  Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.”  His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat.  You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers.  It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar.  Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach.  It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home.  Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans.  His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted.  His stomach, soft at the bottom.  You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks.  You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too.  Charismatic as he invites you into his home.  Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks.  His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower.  What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home.  It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time.  His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures.  Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children.  He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right?  When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too.  Fuck, this feels so easy.  But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language.  He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that.  You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally.  Plump and ripe for the taking.  Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you.  What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression.  You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him.  And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen.  You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?”  When you take the water from him, your fingers graze.  The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind.  He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead.  The two lines between his brow.  “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table.  Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree.  You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop.  All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down.  You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster.  You dread it, you really do.  Going over your failures?  You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,”  Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift.  The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head.  “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought.  You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax.  Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself.  “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything.  See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.”  Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format.  This citation works for your research papers, right?”  He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day.  You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper.  “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs.  You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it?  You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly.  If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format.  Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting.  An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse.  You shift your gaze to look at him.  The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest.  The freckles that splayed over his aged skin.  “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement.  And a pointed one, it seems.  Someone to tell you what to do.  And Joel wanted to be that person?  Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it.  Maybe he did that just because this was his house.  That must’ve been it.  He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next.  He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either.  What?  I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart.  Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap.  You deserved better than that.  He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself.  He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes.  He felt for you.  And he was a bit lost in your eyes.  You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit.  Joel could see that.  He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted.  You threw him off without even trying.  The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise.  You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly.  “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay.  You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.”  He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.  The candor, the nerve.  A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were.  Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain.  They look soft, and… willing.  You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else.  You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming.  He’s not married?  You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this?  So close?  Backed by the glow of his house?  It was so different from the boys you were used to.  In their dorms or disgusting apartments.  It smelled as nice as it looked.  You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself.  You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster.  Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway.  I know I didn’t at that age.”

There.  The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?”  You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee.  Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers.  “Forty-six.  You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion.  How will this land?  What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa.  He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out.  Do you fake it?  Do you give it to them straight?  Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you?  N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you.  It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp.  But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge.  It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you.  Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone.  No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet.  He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day?  You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing.  Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans.  His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that.  All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things.  That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready.  His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing.  Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually.  He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination.  “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses.  Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does.  On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat.  You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this.  You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.”  Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request.  “I – what?”

“No?”  Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood.  It’s just, straddling his face?  Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?”  His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural.  But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school.  Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today.  He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you.  “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?”  You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place.  And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures.  His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor.  “Fuck,” you mutter.  This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does.  You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest.  Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand?  All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening.  “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.”  Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told.  Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart.  Then, it’s incredibly palpable.  His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him.  You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself.  There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too.  Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt.  “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks.  Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do.  Has so much to teach you, if you let him.  Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much.  Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him.  An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much.  It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt.  Delicious, deliberate.  Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was.  Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last.  Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you.  A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained.  “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly.  Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery.  Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips.  Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there.  Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you.  The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you.  Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too.  He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin.  Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally.  Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone.  Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar.  You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was.  Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly.  Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor.  His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons.  “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had.  You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm.  And everything else.

“You know what you did?”  Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand.  You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress.  “What was it?”  You ask, curiously.  Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you.  His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

 “Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance.  “What is it?”  You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him.  “No.  No.  I want to feel you.  It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that.  At how gone your brain is.  Here he was, thinking he was the only one.  “Okay, okay, darlin’.  I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion.  But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head.  You were everywhere.  His mouth, his glistening chest and beard.  He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation.  Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock.  “Such a needy little thing, now,”  it’s as if someone else is talking.  This isn’t the Professor Miller you know.  This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it.  “So fucking wet.  Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock.  Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it.  “Take my cock.”

And take, you do.  Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock.  Clenching around the head and he growls at that.  “You dirty thing.  This how you fuck all your teachers?”  It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you!  Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you.  It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him.  “Just me, show me then.  Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over.  Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once.  Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

 It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own.  The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else.  His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole.  You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected.  Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore.  “Fuck me, Joel!  Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?”  Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first.  Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this.  When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you.  How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now.  His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow.  The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on.  The way it sounds.  Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you.  Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake.  You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs.  Over your own stomach.  You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your.�� His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it.  I know you can take it.  Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby.  That’s it, that’s good, darlin’.  Shh, easy.  Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat.  Come for me, I know you can be so good for me.  Good for – fuck – fuck.  Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit.  “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop.  Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come.  Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore.  You feel too good.  Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves.  “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!”  Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms.  You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out.  So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear.  He doesn’t want to any more than you do.  But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out.  Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you.  You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back.  But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle.  When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too.  He’s just as disheveled.  The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?”  He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender.  More playful.  More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.”  he’s finished enough for you to roll over.  You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop.  He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant.  “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow.  “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,”  Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now.  “You will pass by your own volition.  I meant it – you are bright.  You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.”  He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave.  And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.”  You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue.  Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (a dreamling drabble)

(a 1989 comics AU where Dream does not go meet Hob despite being free)

Dream stares at the sleeping form of Hob Gadling and feels guilty.

He hadn’t gone to their centennial meeting. Despite having escaped Burgess’ cage and having recovered his tools, Dream has not met Hob at their appointed date at the White Horse.

He knows Hob waited for him. Waited until the day had gone and turned to night, after the clock had struck midnight and announced their date over. Dream knows this because he had stood, watching, for as long as the man waited inside the White Horse Inn.

He is not proud of this.

If he examines his reasons for not entering the Inn, keeping watch from the other side of the street instead, he draws a blank. 

Dream does not know why he did not go inside, he knows he froze at the sight of the closed door, the cramped space indoors he could see through the glass (glass, why so much glass everywhere). He had stepped back and waited for his unease to lift, and when that did not happen he had waited for Hob to leave so Dream might meet him outside, but the man did not leave the Inn until the owner practically threw him out on the street, long after midnight. Dream had stepped forward then, only to watch his old acquaintance break down against the building wall and sob. 

Why did Dream not go to him then? Why did he step back into the shadows and watch Hob drag himself up to his feet with a whimper and stumble down the street, hand trailing the wall for support. The only answer Dream can come up with is a supremely uncomfortable one.

He is a coward.

When it comes to relationships, Dream’s track record is disastrous, a fact that he is very aware of. He left Hob in 1889 with cutting words and no promise to return. Hob should by rights be angry at Dream, should be less trusting that he would show. But still the man waited for him at their next appointment, as if he had known Dream’s words to be products of his rage and not vows he would keep. Even if he doesn’t know it, Hob was right to expect Dream to not simply terminate their arrangement. Because here Dream stands, at the foot of Hob’s bed, watching the man sleep, too scared of a smug ‘I-knew-you’d-see-sense’ to dare approach him while awake.

Hob had slowly made his way home, unaware of Dream following him, drawn to him like there was a string tying them to each other. By then Dream felt like the point where he could make himself known had passed, but he hadn’t been able to leave. He kept trailing after Hob, into his small two-room apartment; had watched him shed only his shoes and then stood in the shadows of his curtains while Hob took out a small leather-bound book and pen and started to write. Dream had felt like a ghost, a nightmare watcher haunting his victim. He had carefully reigned in any stray trickles of his power to not make himself known or Hob uncomfortable in his invisible presence. After a few minutes Hob had stopped writing and sighed. Then he wiped his hands over his face tiredly and went to bed, not bothering to get out of his clothes.

Dream stands beside the table with the book now. The pages are still open. His eyes seek out the words unbidden, unable to resist the pull of the written word. He knows he is breaking a lot of taboos this evening. He is invading his friend’s privacy most thoroughly. The knowledge does not stop him from reading what Hob has written.

June 7th 8th, 1989

He didn’t come. The bastard really didn’t come. I can’t believe it. I was so sure he would show. That he was just angry, prideful and stubborn as he is, but surely a hundred years would be long enough to calm down?

Apparently they weren’t. I sat there, at our table at the White Horse, drinking one whiskey after the other, waiting like an idiot until they threw me out, and he didn’t show.

Do you even remember me? Or did you cut me from your memory, like you promised to cut all our ties, the night you left me standing in the rain? Have I left any impact at all on your immortal life that is probably much longer than my own? Surely it must be obvious to you that you have impacted my life more than anyone else. You are the only one who knows me, who knows Hob Gadling, the rough, foolish mercenary who bragged about never dying. Who raised himself from the dirt of the poor just to fall back down again, deeper than ever before. Rise and fall, and rise again only to be put in my place by you again - and rightfully so. 

In 1889 I had finally managed to find some middle ground, feeling safe enough to finally be honest with you - at least partially. And it all blew up in my face.

I should have known, really. Your relaxed smiles for the last centuries were too good to be true. I shouldn’t have trusted my gut and spilled some of the beans. But it had been lonely the last few decades and I thought we had reached an understanding. I thought I knew you, if not as well as you have to know me by now, but enough to take that leap of faith.

I leapt. And you let me fall I fell again. I should be used to it by now, one might think. But when it’s you nothing is simple and the stakes are so much higher.Do you know what you mean to me? Your name is written on a wall inside my heart and I don’t think that any amount of alcohol can wash it away. And I don’t even know it. I don’t know your name but it’s in there, and it’s not coming off. I know. I tried. Although it hurts that you stood me up, I believe that you’ll come back to meet me one day. I will believe in you, no matter what. I have to, for there is no other constant in my life but you. I have to hope.

‘You’re the only one who really knew me at all, and you coming back to me is against all odds, but it’s a chance I’ve got to take’, like Phil says.

Dream does not know who Phil is, but a quick glance at the general human subconscious reveals the quoted words as part of a song by an artist Hob seems to be referring to. Dream perceives the song’s lyrics and its general feeling and swallows heavily. It appears to be an apt choice for Hob’s current emotional state. He reads the last few words while the notes of the song linger in his mind.

So I’ll be here when you’re ready. I hope you know how to find me when they inevitably tear the old place down, but I guess you do. I hope so. I really hope so. I just want to know that you’re okay. I need to know that I’m not alone. There are others like me, I’ve met some. But it’s not the same. No one is like you. No one is as

Please come back

The words cut off abruptly, Hob having clearly been too tired to write more. Dream’s newly reclaimed powers put everything in much sharper relief. Shutting off the flow of emotions from the subconscious comes both easier and harder somehow. Pulling himself back into this singular humanoid shape at Hob’s bedside takes a particular effort he had forgotten since he furnished his ruby. It is not hard, but a task he has to accustom himself to again. Dream pauses for several minutes, quite literally collecting himself, unsure of his next actions.

He looks at Hob again. His face is slack in his sleep, relaxed and calm. Dream only glances at Hob’s dreams to ascertain if they are calm or troubled but finds nothing too upsetting. He does not want to intrude further than he already has so he keeps himself from viewing his friend’s dreams. 

His friend. Friend. The word that had sent Dream running in affront a century ago. Despite himself, struck by a sudden urge to talk to Hob, Dream inhales sharply and silently sits down on the chair in front of the open notebook. He carefully picks up the pen and sets it to the empty paper below Hob’s own words.

My friend.

I apologise for missing our meeting 

I owe you more than one apology. You were correct in your assessment the last time we met. I was am lonely. With one word you dismantled my defences and left me too vulnerable to bear at the time. I was rude to you, and I regretted my words as soon as I had left you. However, as you well know, I am a prideful, stubborn being. Strange, to be able to admit it so easily now. I’ve always known it, and you’re not the first to call me out on it, but of course I would never have allowed anyone who talked to me like that to speak to me again. So I told you I’d leave you, not able to accept that you were, ARE, my friend.

And that I need you, like you need me

I have not forgotten you, Hob Gadling. I do not forget anyone. You are cradled in the vastness of my being like every other mind, your story preserved for all time. This, of course, you cannot know, as I have never introduced myself to you. Again, something I’d like to apologise for. I will, however, endeavour to give you my name in person, and soon.

I would have done so today yesterday, but. For some reason I cannot name I felt unable to approach you or enter our usual meeting place. I know you waited and I am deeply sorry for troubling you.

You have indeed made an impact on my life. Maybe not in the same way I did on yours, but nonetheless our meetings have become something I look forward to. You surely wonder why I never told you who I am. I was not able to admit it a hundred years ago, but to meet you, who knows nothing of my role and my duties, is freeing in a way nothing else is in my existence. You look upon me as your friend, and nothing else. You cannot imagine how much I enjoy the time spent in your presence, listening to your accounts of the last century.

I could not

I was unable to experience much of human history over the last century. This has left me with a certain uneasiness in regards to humanity. I would humbly ask for your patience, once again. As I am trying to gather the courage find the time to gather the courage to meet you in person. Perhaps this book can provide a form of communication, for the time being.

Sincerely, your old friend

Dream drops the pen like it’s burning his fingers and rises swiftly, stepping back from the table and notebook before he can rip out the page he has written in a fit of panic. He has revealed far more than he intended to but it is only fair to leave Hob these words, after what he has put him through.

Dream allows himself one last look at Hob, still sleeping peacefully, before returning back to the Dreaming. There is much to think about. His reluctance to interact with humanity cannot stand if he is to perform his function. Walking with Death has helped him put things in perspective again but he still fears. What? What does he have to fear? He has no need for humans liking him. As he examines his feelings and his earlier short interactions with humans on his way to the White Horse, Dream realises that he does not care about all humans. He only cares about how Hob perceives him. 

Perhaps knowing that he had to introduce himself this time, clearly owing it to his friend, Dream had been afraid of losing Hob’s easy camaraderie. Surely exposing himself as Endless will have a pruning effect on Hob’s relaxed and friendly demeanour. Dream does not want that. But perhaps… No. He will wait for Hob’s reply in his notebook, if it comes. Should he choose to answer Dream, he will then decide how to proceed further. Surely any speculation right now is fruitless.

Trying to put the matter out of his mind for now, Dream goes to resume his work. He is aware enough to know that fear of Hob’s reaction was not the only reason he didn’t enter the White Horse. He needs to work through some things. Perhaps some new nightmares made of planes of suffocating glass will help him put some things behind him.

[Spoiler: of course they won’t, oh honey 🥺]

Part 2

[eoieopda]

If you’re interested in writing it, I would love to read a part two of “the one with Chan and the promotion”! It’s so sweet and cute and I go back to it when I feel sad or sick and just want someone to take care of me lol.

aw, i’m so glad you liked it! here’s part two ✨

the one with chan and the promotion pt. ii

you needed a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happened to be free.

pairing: bang chan x gn!reader genre: fluff, hurt/comfort au: fuck buddies to ? type: drabble rating: 18+ — minors do not have my consent to interact with me or my work. wc: 1.3k cw: reader’s pov this time!; no smut but it’s referenced due to the nature of their relationship; reader had outpatient dental surgery (not depicted); reference to blood/swelling. a/n: this is a continuation of this drabble, which @moni-logues requested last year. in order for things to make sense, please read pt. i first! as of 4/21/24, part iii has been requested and will be coming eventually. navigation. skz permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist. request rules.

Upon waking up, the first thing you do is take inventory.

The list of things you don’t have is the longer of the two: four of the teeth you initially left home with, a blanket on top of you, your bearings, or any substantial memory of the how and when you got back to your apartment.

What you do have is a pair of slippers on your feet where your shoes used to be and a hand in yours, warming your palm. Bleary-eyed, you stare down at the five fingers interlocked with yours while your brain scrambles to load. It doesn’t. You swear you hear the Windows XP error noise sounding off in the back of it when your eyes flick up and find Chan’s closed, fluttering ever so slightly as he sleeps.

You don’t mean to voice your surprise out loud, especially not above a whisper, but it slips past lips still buzzing as sensation returns. “Christ!”

Chan doesn’t startle, which doesn’t necessarily surprise you. His roommate, who you’ve heard tell of but never met, is apparently prone to sudden shouting, apropos of nothing. He does stir, though, just slightly. 

“No,” he mumbles without opening his eyes. Though he doesn’t witness the quizzical look you give him, he must suspect your confusion, nonetheless. Stifling a satisfied, albeit sleepy chuckle, he jokes, “My English name is pronounced Chris.”

It’s then that his eyes crack open, taking you in immediately and softly, pupils dilating. He’s never looked at you like that before. You don’t know what to do with it. 

Flustered, you divert your gaze to your hands the way you always do, only to find that one of his is still holding one of yours. You don’t know what to do with that, either. To cover the fact that you don’t know what to say, you clear your throat, hoping the words will materialize after a bit of stalling. They don’t.

Chan, noticing your preoccupation, interjects and sits upright next to you on top of your still-tucked-in comforter. “Oh.”

He retracts his hand. A sheepish smile spreads in tandem with a flush of red across his cheeks and neck, so heated with embarrassment you can almost feel it from several centimeters away. 

“Had a hell of a time getting you through the door and getting your shoes untied,” he starts, laughing awkwardly.

Oh, indeed.

You’d asked Chan to drive you; called him specifically for that singular task because your other, closer friends — the ones who haven’t seen you naked — don’t. On top of their collective lack of licensure, you know them all too well to trust any one of them with wrangling a highly medicated person on public transit. You’d be a liability in and of yourself; your chaperone couldn’t be a disaster, too.

Going into this, you’d believed that Chan had his shit together well enough to get you from Point A to Point B in one piece. You were right. He did, and even though he could have, he didn’t stop there. Not only did Chan get you inside, but he also swapped your shoes for slippers to avoid dragging dirt into your apartment.

He rubs the back of his neck, continuing, “You — uh — well, you wouldn’t let go after I corralled you in here.” The hand fussing with the hair at his nape gestures vaguely around your bedroom, which he’s seeing in sunlight for the first time ever, not unlike the way he’s witnessing you.

Once again, you search for words and come up with none. 

There was no expectation of gratitude motivating his powerfully quiet act of kindness. Clearly, he didn’t expect to still be here while you napped off the lingering fog from the anesthesia. But he is here.

“I must have quite the grip when I’m high,” you manage to offer. 

A way to ask without truly asking: Why are you still here?

Chan snorts, then he shakes his head while he answers, “Nah, you moved like you were made of jelly. I just didn’t want you to cry again.”

Somewhere, a record scratches. Your eyes go wide, expression otherwise withheld to keep your shock and mortification to yourself. 

Again?

Vulnerability isn’t a thing you do. It took all you had to ask for his help in the first place. You’d rather drop dead on the ground than cry in front of anyone, let alone the person you keep at arm’s length and still sleep with on a recurring basis. Absolutely not. There’s no fucking way. 

“What?” You croak. Almost as embarrassing as the crying, your dried-out throat and the hoarseness of your voice leave your face burning. You clear your throat again. It doesn’t make a difference. “Why did I cry? Pain?”

Fuck, you hope so. You pray for some yet unknown, minor surgical complication that would justify this uncharacteristic crack in your armor. For some excuse you can lean on.

“Worms,” Chan chirps with a shrug, as if that explanation truly explains anything.

You balk. “I would never cry over seeing a worm. It didn’t even rain this week; there wouldn’t be any on the sidewalk.”

He clamps his lips together for a moment, like he’s steeling himself, trying not to laugh in your face. You appreciate the gesture, kind of. Rather, you would — if he had a better poker face. The one looking back at you instead looks fully endeared, which makes you more embarrassed than his laughter ever could.

“I ran into the pharmacy to grab your pain meds, and when I came back to the car, you were sobbing. I was freaking out, thinking you were hurt or something, but no.” His grin comes at full force. “You were scared that worms may not have best friends.”

Oh, my god.

“Oh, my god,” you groan, this time out-loud. Instinctively, you drop your burning cheeks into your hands, hissing in pain the second they settle. You jerk backwards, yelping, “Oh, my god.”

Proving his attentiveness in real time, Chan shifts closer quickly, like a starting gun has been fired. His hands encircle your wrist gently, prompting you to look at him. Once he has your attention, his eyes scan your face in search of visible injury. A triage of sorts. Worry evident, he checks in: “You good?”

Yes, and no.

Yes, your gums are especially sore now that you’ve put excess pressure on them; but no, there isn’t a mouthful of blood hiding behind your tightly pursed lips.

Yes, you feel safe and cared for with him here; but no, you’re not fucking used to it, and it’s making your blurry brain spin. 

How are you supposed to answer that question? You don’t even know which one he’s really asking. Before you say a word, you take inventory again.

What you have is Chan in your bedroom while the sun is still up, fully clothed and above the sheets. He’s here because when he tried to leave, he gave into your small act of subconscious resistance, too afraid of upsetting you. He stayed. He’d witnessed you cry about worms, and he stayed — perfectly still at your side long enough to fall asleep.

What you have is medication to deal with the pain you just exacerbated because Chan went out of his way to pick it up from the pharmacy.

What you have is heart palpitations, a different type of nerves blooming when you realize that dispelling his worry now will result in him taking his reactive touch away.

What you don’t have is the strength of will to lie to someone who looks at you the way Chan currently is, like he may not be able to breathe correctly unless and until he knows you’re okay.

“Yeah,” you eventually sigh. “I am. I’m good.”

In fact, you’re even better when he and his hands choose — once again — to stay.

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

skz permanent taglist: @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sourkimchi @stayceebs97

multi permanent taglist: @jihopesjoint @bahng-chrizz, @notevenheretbh1

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.55)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

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

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

W/c: 18.7k

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

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

(Ache)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry Mommy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squirm. But Tae and Yoongi hold you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“m’fine just- fucking hell Namjoon-”

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

Tae purs join Namjoon’s, coffee long forgotten.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can someone get us some breakfast?”

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

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

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

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

"Can I have some breakfast too?"

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

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

Maybe.

~-~

(Liar)

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

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

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

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

Get real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does that several times. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A really really good job. 

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything Hobi's instincts want is absolutely ridiculous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t they just do it already?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's better than fighting it.

~-~

(Tae)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hasn't he done this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait Joonie don’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now, they’re obedient.

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

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

~-~

(Mine)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~-~

(Bloody)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but then, why is someone crying?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alpha?” Their heads snap in your direction. 

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

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

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

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

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

But you turn to Hobi and hold out your hand.

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

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

Namjoon snarls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow.

Our omegas. Breed them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Namjoon loves it. Slick drunk and completely gone.

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

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

He bites hard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~-~

(Worth)

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

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

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

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

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

Tae's thumb rubs up and down his cheek.

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

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

Don't spoil the surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

~-~

(Ease)

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

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

God, you can’t wait to feel clean.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~-~

(Drip) 

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

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

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

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

Collars for puppies, chains for wolves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~-~

(Special)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But with Tae, Namjoon holds her so so gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, You don’t look away.  

~-~

(Silent) 

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

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

For now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one would have dared, until Yoongi did. 

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

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

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

"Are you worried?"

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

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

“It’s not her I’m worried about." 

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

“Then we'll give them another incentive.”

 ~-~

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[lightlycareless]

Hiii, I just imagined a scene where Naoya and y/n sleeping in the same bed, but they don't get along, because y/n hates him for the things he did, but then he asks her with the most pleading voice ever: "can I hold you?" and it just melts my heart. (for the arranged marriage au)

Hello!!

This was really sweet and angsty :( I had to write it I'm sorry. lol I won't distract you from it now!!

Anyways, here are the warnings: misogyny. arranged marriage. you're getting yelled at.

Happy reading!!

Also, I'm unsure where this arranged marriage au came from, but I tend to take it as a guiding point as the context behind naoya's and y/n's relationship hahaha—unless this is referring to first it hurts? unsure unsure... hope you like it anyways :3!

If were talking about a marriage that even when having a rough start, Naoya and you still managed to fall in love…

Then we gotta go all the way back to the beginning. Where you don’t know Naoya at all, and technically, Naoya doesn’t know you either.

Yet, he still knew he wanted to marry you. Because of all prospects out there, you were perhaps the best choice… or maybe there was something deeper inside him pushing him to favor you?

But regardless of what you and Naoya think, the moment both clans know of their suitability, an agreement was struck, a marriage of “convenience”—intended to obtain a better future, or at least a more tolerable present.

Due to the nature of this decision, you obviously weren’t consulted. Not even aware of until a week before the grand celebration!

Still, you did your best to call off the engagement. Justify that this union couldn’t amount to anything due to your ignorance regarding the Zen’in and their ways, how you wouldn’t be able to fit in what they considered appropriate, and how unwilling you were to put your family in such humiliation—things that were more than anything, trying to appease your clan’s approval, not truly reflecting your true emotions…

But the decision was firmly set, so much so that as soon as Naoya became aware of the faintest possibility of his engagement crumbling, urged your family to push the date earlier, just so you couldn’t argue against it any longer.

Eventually, the ceremony finally occurs, and while everyone is celebrating the union of a powerful clan and all the benefits that ensued, you couldn’t be any more dejected about it.

It was nothing but evident, even in the pictures taken afterwards, that the only ones happy about this were everyone but you.

How they were elated to see your suffering is something that you’d never be able to comprehend, as well as the “friendly” manner Naoya attempted to approach you, as if trying to distract you from the fact that he roped you into this union, probably even threatened your family into it given his clan’s reputation…

You didn’t want to do anything with him—nothing at all. Not even giving him a chance to get to know him. He didn’t deserve that.

All that he could get from you was nothing.

Nothing

And that would be apparent in the way you’d avoid him at all costs, to the point where even your marriage was not consummated during the honeymoon.

The Zen’in elders had yet to believe that such thing had been the truth; thinking it to be some kind of baseless rumor created from the owners of the ryokan both stayed in order to… well, humiliate the Zen’in heir—either way, they did not believe it. Didn’t think someone like Naoya could’ve allowed such transgression to occur...

But it did.

It was the undeniable truth: you did not want to be near him in any shape or form.

Because you didn’t even agree to marry him, what made them think you’d be willing to be intimate with Naoya?!

Unfortunately, your reasoning isn’t something the elders from both his and your family cared about—they simply wanted to see fruits of this union to cement their agreement as soon as possible.

And to achieve that, they started pressuring Naoya to act.

Naoya would try to first “ease” you by giving you gifts, as his relatives would suggest, for “women, as much as they’re sentimental, they’re also materialistic. Specially the modern ones.” They’d say. “Give them a few things, tell them nice words, and you’ll see how easily they succumb to your demands.”

Naoya didn’t question their patronizing words, nor cared to demand respect towards his wife, because at that point, feeling both humiliated and perhaps discouraged by your aloof behavior, all that your husband wanted was to close the broadening gap between the two, one that had evidently grown bigger and bigger with each passing day.

The gifts started with basic things he believed girls liked, such as: jewelry, clothes, accessories… objects that you didn’t end up paying mind to, or actually liked for they were none of your allure—just to highlight the fact that he knew nothing of you, nor bothered to find out.

Given the failure of this attempt, Naoya swiftly believed you were the type of person that liked to be rewarded with a good time, going out and such.

And while Naoya wasn’t particularly fond of these activities, not when he’s already gotten what he wanted, didn’t mean he was sympathetic to the fact you were nothing but apathetic to his alternatives—if anything, you appeared to be disgusted by them.

Naturally, it didn’t take long for Naoya to grow desperate beyond this point.

Yes, he imagined that something so out of the blue couldn’t sail smoothly at the beginning, didn’t expect it either… but shouldn’t his efforts count for something? Be recognized for what they’re worth? For what they represent?

It’s not easy for him, it couldn’t be for someone raised in the circumstances he did.

But if the things that are worthwhile take effort, then why isn’t he seeing results??

Naoya is tired of the way you dismally behave towards him. The way you always ignore him, the way you act like he’s not even there, when he’s your husband, the man who you will more likely spend the rest of your life with. The father of your children!

Yet, you act like he is nothing.

At the thought, alongside the nth failed approach, Naoya loses his cool.

Dropping everything on the spot and yelling his frustrations at you, careless of who saw, where he was, in such way a way that lets you know he has been holding onto this for a while now—

And that he’s not only capable of that, but more.

Naoya didn’t mean to.

Naoya didn’t intend to… lash out the way he did, yell as loud as he did, insult you as harshly as he had done…

But it simply came out like that.

His emotions getting the best of him, completely overriding any semblance of common sense, decency… and seemingly putting down the last nail onto the coffin this marriage was doomed to be enclosed in from the very beginning.

The only time Naoya manages to snap out of his trance is when he sees the frightened, tearful way your eyes look back to him, body trembling, throat tight, speechless, as you take one, two steps away from him, before turning around and running away, to seemingly nowhere he could find you for the rest of the day.

Your husband was never one to measure his words, care about the way they could impact others, but when he sees the consequences of his actions for the first time in his life, he quickly finds himself regretting all that he done towards you, immediately urged to mend whatever he could before this marriage crumbles even more—if there was anything to rescue by this point.

But as much as he considered himself to be diligent, a good sorcerer, with a keen eye that nothing ever escapes him, he can’t find you.

No matter where he searched, or how many times he’s asked the staff to cooperate, demand an answer of your whereabouts less they wanted to be fired, you were nowhere to be found.

At one point, Naoya believed you had escaped the estate. Even though there was nowhere for you to run given the location they were in, he couldn’t overrule this possibility thanks to your prolonged absence, to the point where he’s already gathering up a search crew to find you—

Until he finds you back in his bedroom, lying on your side of the futon, with your eyes to the wall, as close as the edge as possible, just as you always did when sharing a bed with him, already deep into slumber.

The first thing anyone would’ve done is demanded an explanation from you, seek to know where you’d been, reprimand you for thinking this was even right in the first place…

But all that Naoya could muster is a sigh, relieved to see you again, seemingly well, and there with him once again.

Yet, as much as he is glad to see this familiar sight… he knows nothing has changed.

If anything, it just worsened.

Naoya is tired.

He doesn’t feel like putting up a fight, or stopping you when you inevitably move away from him once he joins you in bed; so, all that he does is dismiss whatever plans he had in mind before changing out of his attire, stepping into his nightwear, slip onto the futon, and drift into sleep, which he assumes will happen in a matter of minutes.

But it doesn’t.

No matter how much he tries, how many sheep he counts or how many numbers he goes through, Naoya cannot succumb to his exhaustion, ignore the presence next to him, nor his desire to be close to you.

Even if you were there, he doesn’t believe it. He can’t believe it.

Because for a moment, for a very, very brief moment, he thought he’d lost you.

And it was the worst feeling he had ever experienced in his life.

He knows, deep in his heart, that his attempts haven’t been nice. He knows that his actions hadn’t been ones that many would consider right when trying to approach their partner, seen them fail countless times in the past—

But even with all these failures, having lead them to nowhere…

Naoya still wants to be close to you. Wants to be in your life, and you in his.

He doesn’t ask for much, he never needed much if he’s being honest.

To simply have you there, alongside him, was enough to achieve what he considered his own personal happiness.

So, with all the pain in his heart for his actions and the relief to have you there with him for another night at least, he is urged to move closer to you. Slowly shifting onto his side and sliding closer and closer to you, until he’s barely inches away from you.

Naoya’s never said it before, but his thoughts always remained the same when it came to it: he loves your scent. The overwhelming way it filled his mind, with thoughts of nothing of you…

Of the shiny way your hair looks underneath the sunlight, how soft he imagines it to be, or at least has the idea from the brief times he’s touched it, regretting how he always seemed focused on everything else but that, how he would do anything to thread his fingers through it, or make your face brighten when he compliments it.

And of course, the undeniable, most vital thing he could not live without: your warmth. The sensation that always welcomed him whenever joining you at night, which he wishes he could bask in all the time, every single second of the day: when coming home from a long day at work, or when he’s feeling particularly down.

Naoya would do anything to have you in his arms, and to not feel like he was forcing you to be there, trapped with nothing less than your tormentor.

Was it too much to ask?

… will he ever live to feel such a thing?

Can today… be the difference?

“Y/N.” Naoya whispers, softly, enough to not wake you up if you’re already asleep, but loud for you to hear if you. “Are you… awake?”

You don’t answer, yet… Naoya knows you’re awake given the way you unwittingly tense at his voice—just about the common way you’d react to him.

But even if this was proving to be the same as any other time… his heart still felt like this could change.

Or perhaps hoped it would.

“… I didn’t mean to scare you, you know?” He continues, but you still do not respond. Perhaps you were asleep after all…

Until a sniffle proves him wrong.

The sound, albeit small, was tremendous in Naoya’s mind, resonating in every crevice of his thoughts, rattling his heart and shattering whatever he had left of it, guilt settling deeper into his soul.

If he had any doubt that he had been a mad monster towards you, the same kind that his family often bred into existence—

Your tears ruled him out of any uncertainty.

To believe he embraced these ideals in the past…

But not anymore.

Because all that he cares about now is caring for you, the way he always should’ve done, and comforting you from the struggles he knows he put you through.

One step at a time.

“Can I… hold you?” he whispers, there’s still no answer from you…

But it’s maybe in the tone he asks you, or because he asked you in the first place, that you don’t do anything when his arms hovers around you, don’t put up resistance when he finally touches you, wrapping you into an embrace and pulling you towards his chest—Naoya taking in your warmth, a sentiment so… soft yet welcoming, he never thought he’d be capable of experiencing in his life.

Yet, he did, here, with you, his wife.

The only woman he has ever set his sights on for something more than just a good time, the only person he feels he could do far more than just have there, living with him, inspired him to go to the end of the world and back, just to see her smile.

Naoya always believed that something silly as this could never happen to him. Thought it stupid, delirious, an invention for people to not feel as pathetic and lonely as they really were.

But now that he’s had a taste of that emotion, or at least something he considered remotely similar… Naoya doesn’t want to let go.

Naoya wants more. Wants to know if he’s deserving of such, wondering if this could be his reality, a marriage that wasn’t built in frustration, fear, the constant disgust for the other, or convenience…

He… wishes to believe so.

All that was left then, was to know if you thought the same.

Maybe, considering you didn’t push him away…

…

…

Truth to be told, you had your own thoughts, your own doubts; naturally.

The question of whether there was any hope for you to begin with constantly lingered in your mind.

If there was even a reason for you to remain here if Naoya had been nothing but less than desirable, and that’s without even considering his family.

How little to nothing your husband had done to defend you, alongside excusing those that have wronged you, or how he intentionally keeps you isolated from the world for some unknown reason…

And now, intimidated you into thinking your life could be in danger through his own furious actions.

Any other night you would’ve rejected Naoya, just like you always did. You would’ve pushed him away, demanded to keep his hands to himself, as you did your best to survive the night.

It was obvious by this point that you didn’t sleep—no one could expect you to do so in these conditions; how you even managed to stand up in the morning without passing out due to exhaustion was a surprise, but at the same time, it’s not like you could do anything else: whether you tried to separate yourself from him, the staff and his relatives always pushed you against it.

So, it’s why you were here again at the end of the day, in his futon, listening to his surprising request…

Which you should’ve rejected, especially after the horrible way he treated you for rejecting him again.

Yet, you didn’t.

And maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the fact that he asked you for the first time…

But not only did you not push him away, you stayed there, and allowed him to touch you.

Because at the end of the day, just as Naoya thought it impossible for him to feel something nice, something he once considered delusional, stupid, impossible…

You also wondered if this is what it felt like when having a husband that cared for you.

That held you with intentions of protecting, cherishing, and not to demean and humiliate…

To have a partner to love and be loved by.

Only for tonight, you’ll let his actions answer for you.

I like to think that after this, things begin to improve between the two 🥺❤️

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask! I really enjoyed diving into this particular scenario, agghhhh 😭😭😭 I cried a bit.

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

(p.s. something like this will happen in my main fic aagagaaggagagaa spoilers)

[graceful-starker]

Tony the Friendly Ghost

Summary: Peter's house is haunted by a very friendly, very horny ghost.

Warnings: mild dub-con for a second there, Tony is a ghost, mild come inflation, mostly just an excuse to write ghost porn ngl.

Notes: Blame @the-mad-starker for this one, ngl lol. I might add more to this AU, but I wanted to get the first installment out on Halloween. Happy Halloween!

~~~

Peter isn’t crazy, okay? His apartment is just haunted. He doesn’t care that MJ rolls her eyes in disbelief or that Ned laughs at him for believing in ghosts. There’s definitely, 100%, for sure a ghost in his apartment. 

Peter winces as his ghost moves his couch loudly, the legs screeching horribly against the floor and thudding into the wall. “Okay, that’s really unnecessary!” Peter yells, walking into the living room and putting his hands on his hips. “I can’t afford to leave, you’re stuck with me, okay? You don’t have to rearrange all my furniture in protest.”

He doesn’t get a response; he isn’t sure his ghost even can. He’s never seen it, never heard it. He can only see what it does to his home. So far, at least. The couch is pulled back from the wall and slammed back into it again.

Peter sighs in annoyance, cocking his head to the side and staring at the couch. “Whatever, it looks better there anyway.”

The couch skirts across the floor, back to its original position, and Peter rolls his eyes as hard as he can. “Oh, fuck you. You’re just being annoying for the sake of it now.”

There’s no response, and Peter puffs out another sigh. “Stop rearranging my furniture, we’re going to get a noise complaint.”

There’s no response yet again, and Peter hums and turns to go back to his room. “Thank you,” he mumbles softly. He opens his door and gasps. “You asshole!” he yells, looking at his clothes flying out of his dresser. “Stop that!”

His ghost doesn’t, so he angrily grabs a towel and slams the bedroom door behind him to leave his ghost to their temper tantrum. 

He locks the door to the bathroom as if that will stop the ghost from coming in and turns the shower to be extra hot. He strips and puts his clothes in the hamper, grumbling to himself under his breath. 

He takes perhaps the angriest shower of his life, scrubbing furiously at his body and aggressively lathering his hair. “I should have known the rent was too good to be true,” he mumbles to himself, getting out of the shower and grabbing his towel. He’s calmed down a bit, has resigned himself to his fate of refolding all his clothes. 

He finishes drying off his hair and wraps it around his hips, looking up at the vanity. He blinks, cocking his head to the side. In big blocky letters, drawn out in the steam on his mirror, is TONY. 

“Tony?” he asks, and watches it be underlined. “Oh, your name is Tony,” he mumbles. “That’s a nice name.”

He doesn’t get a response, and Peter hums in thought. “I’m Peter,” he offers, feeling a bit silly. But Tony started it. “This doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know. We can get along.”

YES appears on his mirror, and Peter smiles at it. “See? This’ll be great.”

~

Tony likes to talk to him, Peter has discovered. He likes leaving messages on the mirror whenever Peter showers, likes to ask questions and get Peter talking for long periods of time. 

It got to the point where Peter decided: why limit this? He buys three white boards, sticks them to the walls in his kitchen, livingroom, and bedroom. Tony is very happy with these purchases, and has a preference for the red marker. 

Peter has decided that Tony is an asshole, but he isn’t all that bad really. He’s kind of sweet too, and a good listener. He cares about Peter’s life, asks questions about it and encourages him to talk about it to Tony. 

As far as ghosts go, Peter is sure he’s lucked out. 

Peter laughs as he reads the question left for him in the bedroom, shaking his head fondly. “No, MJ isn’t my girlfriend. And she doesn’t even believe me when I tell her about you, she’s a real asshole like that. She’s not coming over any time soon.”

MJ IS NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?

“No, I don’t have one,” Peter says, shrugging. “I was dating Wade for a while, but we decided to just be friends instead.”

BOYFRIEND?

Peter frowns. “Oh, god, what time period are you from? I didn’t think to ask. People can do that now, it’s fine to be gay or whatever else now.”

NOT AN ISSUE.

“Oh, good,” Peter says, grinning at the board. “Because you’ve really grown on me, it would be a shame to find out my favorite ghost is homophobic.”

YOU KNOW OTHER GHOSTS?

Peter snorts, rolling his eyes fondly. He sits on the bed, crossing his legs. “Jealous?” There’s no response, and Peter giggles softly. “I don’t know any other ghosts, it was just a joke.”

I’M ALONE.

Peter frowns, taking in the words slowly. Tony must have been terribly lonely, before Peter came around. “Well, I’m here now. And you aren’t getting rid of me any time soon, we’ve already established this.” He tries to joke, but it sounds sad. 

It’s quiet for a long time after that, the marker hovering in the air as if Tony is holding it limp at his side. Then the marker is placed down, and the door to Peter’s room shuts. 

Peter sighs sadly, deciding to use the privacy while he has it; since Tony is invisible, he never knows for sure if he’s watching. He only knows if Tony does something like that; closes his door, or moves stuff around in another room. 

~

Peter hums to himself as he gets out of the shower, drying off and wrapping his towel around his waist. His toothbrush is knocked over, and he looks at the mirror with a frown. 

WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

“No where,” Peter says, turning and opening the door. “I just wanted to get clean.” He makes his way to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He opens a drawer in his dresser, before he looks over his shoulder at an insistent tapping noise. The marker is tapping against the whiteboard, and Peter sighs and walks over. 

NO PLANS?

“Nope,” Peter says, turning back around. “Let me get dressed, we can talk-hey!” 

Tony has ripped his towel away, throwing it across the room and leaving him naked. The marker is back on the white board, so Peter doesn’t know for certain where Tony is. 

“Asshole,” he mumbles starting to walk towards his towel again. “You don’t-hey!”

Tony’s never touched him before this; it’s a little unsettling. Everywhere Tony touches him is extremely cold, and it sends a rush of adrenaline through him. One hand is wrapped around Peter’s wrist, twisting his arm behind his back and the other is on Peter’s hip. He’s bent over the bed, and the position brings a blush to Peter’s face. 

“Hey!” Peter says, trying to wriggle free. “What are you doing? Let me go!”

Tony doesn’t. Instead, he moves his hand from Peter’s hip to his ass, petting at the flesh a couple times before spreading Peter’s cheeks apart. 

Peter gasps and shivers at the feeling, trying to close his legs. “Tony! What are you doing?!”

Tony’s leg must go in between his, kicking his feet apart. Peter gasps and shivers, his legs shaking. Tony’s finger pets over his hole, and Peter whimpers. 

“Tony, you can’t-you can’t! What are you-let me go, Tony!” Peter whines, trying to push off of the bed. Tony has never tried to hurt him before, not even when they weren’t talking yet and Tony was still trying to get rid of him. He’s more confused than scared. 

Tony pushes his knee in between Peter’s thighs again, pushing up until his own thigh is pressing against Peter’s cock and rubbing back and forth. 

Peter chokes and gasps, his hand clenching the sheets. “O-oh,” Peter chokes out, grinding down against Tony’s thigh. It feels so fucking wierd, so very cold but still so very good at the same time. Tony’s thigh rubs against him for a few minutes, and Peter continues to grind against it until he’s fully hard.

Tony pushes his finger in to the first knuckle, and Peter gasps. “Wait, don’t-oh god, oh,” Peter groans and pushes back into it, his cock leaking on Tony’s thigh. He can feel Tony’s cock hardening against his hip, and it’s so weird. This is so weird, he can’t even see Tony and Tony is about to-

Tony’s finger pushes deeper, and Peter whimpers. He can’t decide if he’s scared or not, can’t decide if he wants Tony to stop. He wants to tell Tony to wait, at least, to use lube. But then he realizes-

There is no friction. His hole is just stretching around nothing, there’s nothing really there. 

“Oh, fuck,” Peter gasps, hanging his head and arching his back. “Oh, please, more. Tony, please.” 

Tony pulls his finger out and Peter whines, but then he’s pushing two in. Peter’s head throws back, and he gasps loudly. Tony’s fingers start moving in and out of him quickly, already scissoring him apart. 

Peter wonders if Tony can see himself, or there’s nothing there for him as well. If he just has a view of Peter’s hole being stretched around nothing, or if it looks normal for him. “Oh, fuck, Tony. Please Tony, please, more, I need-oh fuck, please!”

Tony lets go of his wrist for the first time since this started, pulling his fingers out abruptly. Peter whines at the loss, scared that Tony’s going to leave now. He worries himself for nothing; Tony simply picks him up and turns him around, and Peter lands on his back halfway up the bed. 

He doesn’t like this position as much; he can see that no one is there. It’s freaking him out, making him think too much. “Tony,” he chokes, chest heaving. He gets up on his elbows, digging his heels into the bed.

Invisible hands push his thighs far apart, and Tony’s cock presses bluntly against Peter’s hole. It pushes and pushes, until it slips past and slides up Peter’s balls. 

Peter gasps loudly, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. It feels so weird but so good, and if he closes his eyes he can just pretend it’s fine. “Oh, fuck, Tony. Please, please fuck me, please get inside me, I want-oh my god!”

Tony had pulled his cock back to try again, pressing insistantly until the head finally popped past Peter’s rim. 

Peter’s mouth falls open, and he has to fist the sheets to stop himself from screaming. It feels so fucking good inside of him, so incredibly strange but in a pleasant way. “Oh, fuck,” Peter gasps, sucking in a desperate breath. 

Tony starts to slowly push forward, and forward and forward until Peter feels like he can feel it in the back of his fucking throat. 

“Oh god, Tony, oh fuck, how fucking big are you?” He can’t see it, can’t know how much there is left to go. “Oh, stop, it won’t fit!” Peter cries. 

Tony doesn’t listen, continues pushing in until his hips finally slap into Peter’s ass with an audible slap. 

Peter groans loudly, his legs shaking, his chest heaving. “Oh god, Tony,” he gasps, opening his eyes and regretting it immediately. There’s no one there, there’s no body attached to the cock currently splitting him in half, no hands keeping his thighs apart. He’s just being filled up by nothing, his stomach is protruding with a cock that isn’t there. 

Tony starts to slowly pull back out, and Peter watches in fascination as Tony’s head visibly moves down his torso. “Oh,” Peter moans.

Tony only pulls halfway out before pushing back in, his hips slapping hard against Peter’s. 

“Oh, fuck,” Peter gasps, throwing his head back again as Tony sets up a brutal pace. He feels like he might actuall die, like Tony is actively fucking him to death. He’s so fucking big, and the pace is brutal, and he’s fucking Peter so hard he’s being pushed up the bed.

Tony’s left hand leaves his thigh, after moving Peter’s leg around to grip around his waist. Instead it presses down harshly against Peter’s stomach where his head reaches when he goes as deep as possible. 

Peter moans, almost screams, watching his torso with dark eyes. It’s the only visible proof he has, the only thing proving that he isn’t batshit crazy. He’s being fucked by a ghost; a ghost hung like a horse besides. “Tony!”

Tony somehow speeds up, slapping his hips so hard against Peter’s that it hurts, and he knows he’s going to be feeling this for days. 

“Please,” Peter moans, moving one hand to wrap around his cock. “Oh god, please, I want it. Please! Please Tony, please come inside me, I want it so bad!”

Tony’s right hand tightens on his thigh, enough that the skin goes white and he’s sure it’s going to leave a mark. His hips stutter, and he fucks into Peter a few more times before burying himself balls deep and grinding there. 

It feels so fucking weird. It’s still cold, but it’s definetly real and wet inside of him. Peter’s eyes go lidded and he strokes himself quickly, enjoying the feeling of being stretched, of how deep Tony is, of being filled up.

Peter almost doesn’t notice at first, but Tony hasn’t stopped grinding into him and filling up for longer than a human would have. His eyes widen as it hits him, his hand stilling on his cock. “Oh, god, Tony?” 

Tony pulls half out and slaps his hips back in, grinding again. The hand on Peter’s stomach leaves to start stroking Peter instead. 

Peter’s stomach starts to distend, and his jaw drops as he realizes just how much Tony is filling him up. “Oh, fuck, Tony! Tony, it’s too much!” 

Tony speeds his hand up on Peter’s cock, and Peter whines loudly. He finishes to the strange feelings, hands gripping the sheets desperately and head thrown back. He comes so hard that it hits his chin, and Tony wrings every last drop out of him. 

Peter pants heavily once it’s over, groaning at the sight of his come painting Tony’s fist white. He can kind of see it now, see the outline. He already knew from the way they felt inside of him, but Tony’s fingers are thick. 

He’s still buried to the hilt inside of Peter, and Peter whines as his stomach continues to grow. He feels some being fucked out of him as Tony grinds, and he’s so overstimulated at this point. “Tony, ‘s too much!”

Tony finally finishes filling Peter up minutes later, when Peter’s stomach is pudged and he looks like he has a small baby bump. Oh, and isn’t that a new idea? He grinds into Peter once more, keeping him plugged up apparently. He really wishes that Tony could talk to him.

“I’m too full,” Peter complains, nudging at Tony’s torso with his knee. “Get out of me.”

Tony pets at Peter’s stomach, and maybe he’s just as turned on by the sight as Peter is. Peter’s spent sock twitches, but it’s way too soon for him to go again. 

“Tony,” Peter whines, clenching around him. “Out.”

Tony hesitates once more, but finally pulls out slowly. He leaves his head insides, teasing Peter’s rim with the widest part.

Peter moans at the feeling, before whimpering again. “Tony, please, it’s too much!”

Tony finally takes mercy on him, popping his head out but keeping Peter’s thighs spread open. 

Peter whimpers, face red with embarrassment, knowing that Tony is staring at his hole. He wonders what it looks like right now; wonders how much of Tony’s come is leaking out of him, how gaped open he is. 

He reaches around himself, ignoring Tony squeezing his thighs, and stuffs a few fingers into himself. Tony squeezes tighter, before finally letting him go. 

Peter pulls his fingers out, eyes lighting up when he realizes he can see Tony’s come on his fingers. Physical proof of what Tony did to him. 

He clenches around nothing, winces when he feels some more of Tony’s come slide out of him and onto the bed. “Fuck, Tony,” he whispers, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking curiously. It tastes about the same as normal, it’s just cold. A little gross. 

Peter pulls his fingers away and gasps when Tony’s hand cups his cheeks, and he thnks Tony is kissing him because his lips are cold. He tries to kiss back, closes his eyes so he doesn’t feel like he’s kissing air. It’s much easier when his eyes are closed for his mind to accept this. 

Tony finally pulls away, and Peter falls back on the bed with a final pant. “Fuck,” he whispers to the room. 

Peter looks when at the tapping noise against the board, snorting when he sees it. “Now you ask?” he snarks, rolling his eyes. 

CAN WE DO THAT AGAIN? Stays on his board, unerased, even the next time they do this.

[mxtxfanatic]

Was thinking about how often I see reactionary pro-Jiang Cheng content, and I just realized something: jc stans, just like their fav, believe that every good thing Wei Wuxian has—whether loved ones or good memories or admirable characteristics or character growth, whether canon or fanon—is actually the rightful property of Jiang Cheng that Wei Wuxian “stole” from him through the sin of existing, and it is their sworn duty to correct this “oversight” of canon.

Wei Wuxian gets his happily ever after with the love of his life, so jc stans give Jiang Cheng Lan Xichen and call Lan Wangji “second place.” Or they make Lan Wangji a cheater because “he actually likes Jiang Cheng more (who doesn’t, amiright?)” or Wei Wuxian a cheater because “he can never appreciate a good thing like Jiang Cheng can.” People point out how Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang seem to have had a closer relationship than Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng, so jc stans make the latter two a ship or make them the bestest friends ever that bond over being annoyed with Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian has a close relationship with the Wen siblings, so jc stans make Wen Qing spend all their time together saying that Jiang Cheng “was right” about him while Wen Ning is being “bullied” into being “anti-jc.”

Wei Wuxian is canonically smart and driven, so jc stans say that he is lazy while Jiang Cheng is hardworking. Wei Wuxian is canonically charismatic, so jc stans say that it was actually Jiang Cheng who was loved by all the disciples and is the sole reason the Jiang Clan of the present was able to pull in new disciples post-fall. Wei Wuxian loves to learn, so jc stans say that Jiang Cheng was actually a model student being sabotaged by the slovenly Wei Wuxian.

People imagine the Lan as accepting Wei Wuxian post-canon or imagine aus where the Lan adopt him as a child, so jc stans make Jiang Cheng the adopted Lan child, who Lan Qiren now likes better than his own nephews. People write Nie!wwx, so jc stans write about how “actually” Nie Mingjue sees Jiang Cheng as the brother he never had and views Wei Wuxian as an unwanted nuisance and competition. People make the most batshit ooc au where the QishanWen are actually good and adopt Wei Wuxian, and jc stans turn that into actually, the Jiang siblings are adopted while Wei Wuxian stays with the “totally horrible, abusive” father in Yunmeng. Fucking Baoshan Sanren descends from her mountain to look for her martial grandson, and jc stans will shove Jiang Cheng into the narrative as a disciple because “he’s just so lovable!” In all of these cases, some will still imagine that Wei Wuxian still gets left on the streets as a petty afterthought.

Shit, even some of the BAD things that happen to Wei Wuxian canonically are misappropriated by jc stans to give Jiang Cheng unearned sympathy. Wei Wuxian was whipped as a child? Now Jiang Cheng was too, but also his dad hates him. Wei Wuxian is an orphan who creates his own family in adulthood? Jiang Cheng is now disowned/an unloved runaway who later finds his people because who wouldn’t want him (amiright?). Wei Wuxian was at risk of losing his golden core completely in the transfer if it failed? Well Jiang Cheng was going to DIE! “See? Look how much harder Jiang Cheng’s life was than that pathetic attention whore Wei Wuxian! Doesn’t he deserve all the things Wei Wuxian has? Aren’t they rightfully his???”

And it’s like, you can’t even escape into fan content with this type of mentality, because look out how much I mentioned is popular fanon. Notice how ubiquitous these ideas are surrounding anything to do with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, even if only one of them is mentioned. No matter what anyone reads in the novel, no matter what individuals come up with in their own heads, no matter what tag or platform is used or not used to keep it out of their hands, jc stans will be there to create a reactionary counterpart to prove that nothing, nothing can ever just be Wei Wuxian’s. Because at the end of the day, the “oversight” that jc stans want to correct isn’t Jiang Cheng’s supposed depreciation by the author. The “oversight” was the author daring to say that Wei Wuxian deserves to be treated as his own person and not Jiang Cheng’s personal property. And every fandom interaction has been retaliation towards that fact.

The main character of the novel is relegated to mere a lightning rod that exists to attract all of Jiang Cheng’s bad qualities while injecting him with all of Wei Wuxian’s good, but jc stans wonder why people are upset.

[darklcy]

𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

‣ requsted by @ipromiseimnotthirsty : hello! if your requests are open, would you write robin x reader smut where reader has been teasing robin all day until she snaps? maybe they’ve been in public/with other people/in class all day and then they get home? thank you!!

‣ robin buckley x f! reader | stranger things mastelist | 1.5k words | 18+ MDNI, heavy petting, skin on skin, sexual tension, swearing, reader has boobas, college au, no use of y/n, fingering, make out sesh

‣ this is actually one of the first times i've ever written smut so i hope i did you justice adfafawe sorry this one took so long! enjoy my luvs

Something must’ve been in the air today, she thinks.

Surely that’s why her skin flared red, insides grinding like an engine, knee bouncing beneath her desk anxiously while trying to find a rhythm with the pencil in her grip. Professor Smith’s lecture faded quiet, the woman pointing to an assignment on the board that was to be finished come Monday morning. Robin slouched further into her chair.

…A shoe trails the inside of her calf. 

Her eyes close while her lips tighten. Nudging it away, she ignores the playful scoff behind her. 

Quit it.

The shoe lightly pokes her back, the tip of a canvas converse tapping into her corduroy pants. Smith and the chalkboard mesh together in a blur, a sweaty induced blur with Robin’s only focus being the damn girl behind her. The same damn girl who’s been riling up her nerves the whole class period.

The tip of a finger twirls around a strand of Robin’s bob, a phantom sensation of pulling on her scalp before the tension releases. Something’s gotta be in the air today.

—

The lunch line was annoyingly long today. Her weight shifts from feet to feet as her shoulder leans against the wall, awaiting her turn to enter the school cafe and order some overpriced food the campus provides. Not her usual choice, but waking up late damned her to forget packing a sack lunch. A student with a plastic tray walks by. Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes. Her nose twitches.

A sharp pinch to her side jolts her awake.

“Hey.”

Of course it’s you. Robin’s hand flies to her chest.

“My god, you scared me.”

“Good, I was trying to.”

Do you even know what you’re doing or is it just a state of oblivion?

“What’s for lunch today?”

“Uhh, steak and mashed potatoes.”

She watches you contemplate. 

“Hm. I’ll save you a spot.”

Your hand caresses her shoulder, but as you depart, trails down her arm before releasing at her wrist. Goosebumps stem up from her fingertips, unable to do anything else except watch you prance away to an empty table, joining a couple other classmates, and sure enough, placing your bag to the seat right next to yours.

You smile in greeting like it was just a regular day. It was almost mocking her. Her freckles could feel the heat underneath her pores. 

Someone taps her shoulder. “Can you move up.”

Shit.

— Last period of the day. Thank god.

She’d just about had it with you and your damn mannerisms. It’s never riled her up like this before, but surely there’s something in the air, with how much she wants to just-

“Wanna hangout today?”

You two hangout every day, yet you still ask. She hops in your passenger seat and leans her cheek against her palm, strategically moving her knees a bit away from you. Your hand still finds its way to her knee.

You commuted to class everyday, seeing how you only lived a couple blocks down the road. Robin doesn’t complain, her roommate wasn’t really her favorite person to hangout with anyways. Most days it was just awkward silence and greetings. 

“You won’t believe what happened in chem. Jason Carver messed up on the lab, and made a huge mess. His face was so fucking funny, he kept whining about how his sweater was ruined.”

You shake your head with laughter. Robin doesn’t react.

“Rob? You listening? I just said Jason Carver made an ass of himself and you’re like not responding.”

She raises her head when you squeeze her knee twice.

“Oh, yeah. No, that’s funny.”

You scoff. “I love your enthusiasm.”

Robin’s tongue rolls the inside of her mouth, her face returning to its rest against her palm. 

The familiar neighborhood streets fade in, your car slowing to a park, when Robin finally breaks. Her hands pull you into her immediately, her torso leaning over the gear shift to reach you better. She feels you smile against her, your hands gripping her hair and tugging gently. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy all fucking day.”

Robin groans into your mouth while taking a swoop of air, only to dive back into you again.

“I was trying to.”

She wants to ruin you. She wants to take you here and now. She wants you to shut the fuck up.

Your lips taste so sweet. The gasps and whines she drives out of you she immediately drinks in. She’s so lost in you that the roll of your bodies hitting the horn startle you both apart with a jolt.

“Shit!”

Robin swears as you burst out laughing. She glares down at you, but surrenders at your expression, your face squinting with giggles and smiles. She adores you. With a sigh, she bends down to steal another kiss. 

“Let’s go inside.”

You hum. “Good idea.”

—-

Robin starts immediately where you left off. The second you two enter your room, she grabs hold of you again, not wasting any time to place her mouth on yours. She feels you hold onto her waist, gently rubbing your fingers against her sides. Robin bites your lip when you pinch her.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

The back of your knees buckle against your bed, allowing Robin to fully settle herself on top. 

“Nope,” 

She hates how you pop the ‘p.’

This way is much better, she finds. No damn gear shift or car horn to drive you apart now. This way she can feel you entirely, your warmth, your breath, your soft skin. Her knee glides up to rest between your legs, smiling when you stutter, your fingers desperately grabbing onto her. Robin rubs herself up and down, her weight and position making you two hungry for more, kisses growing deeper and deeper. Who needs to breathe air when she could just live here, in your body, in your affection?

She feels her shirt rise with her movements, to which she momentarily pauses to sit up and rid herself of the damn thing. You take this chance to follow her, exposing more of yourself to her and quickly meeting her lips again. Your fingers trail up and down her shoulder blades, her spine, her nape. Your nails become your new eyes, wanting to memorize every single freckle and pore of Robin’s skin down to the minute detail. Robin was so beautiful. Her freckles were probably your favorite thing about her. If you could, you’d kiss every single one. You started with her collarbones, then her shoulders, your teeth gently biting her in between.

Robin’s arms encased around your shoulders, starting to mess with the back of your wired bra before snapping it off. She moved lower to embrace your breasts with her tongue, each lick and kiss quickening your breaths. With a pop, Robin moves to the other, her tongue swirling around the bud before wrapping her mouth around it entirely. 

“You know..”

Robin peers up at you through her eyelashes, her lips still working on your left breast.

“If I’d known messing with you would get you like this… I would’ve done it a lot sooner.”

You gasp when her teeth bites your nipple.

“Shut up.”

Robin’s tongue licks into your mouth greedily, shutting you up in the best way. You find the latch hooking her bra together and eagerly rip it off, your fingers grabbing at her while her mouth occupies itself with yours. Robin leans on her right elbow while her left hand redirects yours to the hem of her jeans, letting out a hum when they dip inside and find where she needs you most. 

She’s so warm and slick with heat, you find no trouble slipping in a finger inside, curling rhythmically and slowly. Robin moans against you, breaking apart from you to your neck, letting herself rest there while you get her ready. It’s not long before you slip in another finger, even allowing her to grind down against you to rid some of the ache. 

She practically whines when your fingers leave her.

“Take this thing off.”

She obeys instantly. Her jeans fall heavy to the floor and you’re back at it, her heat missing the two seconds you weren’t inside her.

Her moans and whines could sustain you forever. It feels so good to make her feel good, you could probably reach your limit right here and now just drunk off her pleasure. Three fingers in now, pumping in and out, in and out. She’s close, you can feel it. It’s almost amusing how her cool exterior dumbs down to whimpers the moment someone touches her. 

“I’m getting, I’m,”

You leave a lingering kiss on her cheek, while Robin’s eyes clenched shut, her walls closing down on your fingers as she lets go. Her moans are euphoric and beautiful, and being this close you can feel them all around you, surrounding your five senses, and you find yourself starting to moan with her, too.

Her body collapses onto you, her sweaty cheek meeting the crook of your neck while your slick covered fingers come up to your lips to be licked clean. Robin can hear you hum at the sensation, annoyingly popping your fingers like a cartoon character after finishing a gourmet meal.

“You taste so sweet, Rob.”

You can’t hold back your grin as she groans into your skin.

“God, shut up.”

[blackhairedjjun]

honesty - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst, open ending, non-idol au, best friends to (potential?) lovers | word count: 818 | warnings: profanity, arguing, reader has a toxic ex, implied infidelity (from the ex not yj)

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - HEAT: while engaged in a passionate argument with one another, sender, in the heat of the moment, blurts out “i love you!” to the receiver. think of like, that glorious trope where people have a huge argument and then suddenly sb drops the mic with “because i’m in love with you!” and silences the other person. u know the trope! (requested by anon - "maybe with a bf2lovers au ?")

author's notes: hi anon! tbh it took me a while to write this since i already did the heat prompt with a different member and i didn't want it to be too similar lol. the ending is more maybe-lovers than outright lovers, but i hope you still like it! <3

despite the calm of the river next to you and yeonjun, your circumstances are anything but. you tried to keep your voice low at first, but your emotions run so high that you’ve given up; you care little about the other people staring at you as they stroll past.

“for fuck’s sake, yeonjun!” you yell. “you’re my friend, not my dad!”

“and aren’t friends supposed to look out for each other?!” your best friend grips his hair in his hands as if to pull it out, then lets go. “i’m telling you to stop hoping for him to come back! he doesn’t fucking care!”

“shut up! you don’t know him like i do!”

“i know he broke your heart so bad that you locked yourself up for a week, and that’s enough!” yeonjun takes a few steps toward you, but you step back.

what was supposed to be a calm afternoon stroll with your best friend has now turned into an argument once you brought up the topic of dating your ex again. you open your mouth to speak, then press your lips together. a cool wind blows from behind you; in your silence you hear a young couple laughing by the riverside, and you envy them.

you know that yeonjun is right, but you refuse to give him the point.

“ he destroyed you, y/n. and now he’s pleading for you back when he’s been kissing others?! don’t you know any better than that?!”

“i do! so why don’t you trust me on this?! why don’t you believe me when i say he’s changed? you keep seeing him as the bad guy!”

“and why don’t you trust me?!” yeonjun’s own voice gets louder with each word, oblivious to the stares of others. “i’m not making it up when i say i’ve heard him flirting with girls, i’ve seen him make out with them at parties. i’m trying to protect you from more heartbreak!”

he sucks in a breath and his voice shifts from loud to trembling. again he steps towards you, but you don’t move away. you look down at your hands to avoid his gaze and find them shaking.

“he’ll break you all over again,” he says. “and i can’t let that happen to you again... i couldn’t stand it the first time.”

a voice in your head tells you that he’s not lying; your best friend has no reason to. you ignore it and root your feet to the ground. “and that’s none of your fucking business, yeonjun. just let me make this choice for myself! i don’t need you trying to tell me what to feel. why do you care so much, huh? why are you trying to control how i feel?!”

“because i一 y/n, you can’t be serious一”

“i am serious! why the hell do you care so much about this damn guy?!”

“because i’m in love with you!”

yeonjun’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said and he takes a few steps back. you’re frozen to your spot, but you no longer feel rooted. instead you feel brittle, as if a single touch could send you crumbling. every nerve in your body feels primed to fall apart.

“shit, i never should have said that. god, i am so sor一”

“yeonjun...”

his name is barely a whisper from your mouth. you swallow hard, unsure what to say. you can do nothing more but stare at your best friend: the one you’ve told everything to, the one you trusted more than anything else, the one who held you in his arms when you cried after your ex broke your heart. the realization that he’s loved you all this time starts to sink in.

there’s an ache in his eyes now, one so strong that you look away. you take a deep breath and hold yourself together long enough to collect your thoughts.

“i am so sorry, y/n.” his voice breaks and you know he’s on the verge of tears. “i shouldn’t have said一”

“no, jjun.” his nickname weighs down on your tongue. “i... i just...”

you can see yeonjun’s shadow growing closer to yours. with one hand he reaches out for yours, trembling still; with the other he gently lifts your chin up to look at him. his eyes shine with tears, but the ache in them has lessened a bit.

you step forward and he collapses into you. you catch him as he stumbles forward, your arms finding his waist and his head buried in your neck. you hold him gently as you can, as if carrying a fragile treasure; his body shakes ever so slightly as he starts to cry and his tears wet your skin.

when you speak, your words are quiet and carefully chosen.

“i ran away from you, jjun. that’s why i tried to date him again... because i thought you’d never love me back.”

[ukiyoq34]

Sweet things〜☆

Important! - This is my first time like writing something on here so pls go easy on me!

Desc- Xiao x Reader, Xiao can play the electric guitar, Xiao with piercings, Modern AU! Theres no pronouns just sweet cute fluff!!

　　　　　　☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

-Xiao who would often blush at the thought of you to the point where even if someone mentions you he’d try to change the topic as much as he could. He’s new to this! He can’t handle all these new feelings that’s making him fall behind on his studies.

-Xiao who refuses to admit any feelings for you. You’re just a stupid curse. A curse he can’t get rid of. A curse he doesn’t want to get rid of. A curse he’s drawn to. A curse he wants to protect. A curse he wants to love, but of course he would never come to believe his own feelings

-Xiao who would glare at you for hours as if he’s giving you a death stare but in reality, he’s been unconsciously admiring your appearance as he wonders what’s making him be so drawn to you. It’s only until you two make eye contact for a brief moment that makes him look away as a soft blush is adorned on his face

-Xiao who would often try to get the courage to speak to your friends to find out more about you. Though, he tries his best not to make it obvious but there are times where he accidentally slips something out about his feelings but immediately covers it up. Luckily your friends were understanding enough to play along with him an act as if they were oblivious to Xiaos feelings towards so one day he could come forward to you.

-Xiao who enjoys crafting in his spare time, would often make you little gifts of things you like. He would put all his love and effort into it making sure it’s perfect almost as perfect as you but he believes nothing can come close to you. He blushes at his own thought of you.

-Xiao who would listen to songs that remind him of you. He would listen to your favorite songs even if it’s not his type he would still find himself listening to them because it just solely reminds him of you.

-Xiao who would build up courage just to ask you to see the new things he’d learn on the guitar. He would play subtle love song without trying to make it obvious. Once hes done playing he’d look at you with a hint of a hopeful look in his eyes hoping you enjoyed it. After all, he’s been practicing day and night to impress you.

-Xiao who finally built up the courage to tell you how he felt but little did he know you would do the same leading to you both confessing at the same time. It’s safe to say that once xiao heard your words and how you felt the same towards him, he became a blushing mess.

-Xiao who would show his affection through acts of service. Tying your shoes, carrying your book or backpack, brushing your hair, helping you out something on, doing your chores, taking care of you, and surprising you with small gestures of kindness and little gifts.

-Xiaos favorite part of you has to be your voice, he may not talk much himself but he’d gladly listen to you talk about whatever you want. He’d listen to you no matter what because to him your voice is the most gentle of all melodys that can touch and warm his heart.

💞

Extra! A song that he falls asleep to that basically is how he feels towards you is “Lonely Day” by System Of A Down. (It’s kinda like a romantic goth song not entirely sure though but it’s good!)

[leounderthemoon]

A rant and theory

It’s really long, but I think I make some valid points.

Supernatural was on for 15 years. There have been interactions with the cast, some crew, some producers, directors, writers, etc. due to the ongoing conventions and the existence of social media. Writers will talk about changes to scripts, actors will talk about filming, directors will talk about why they chose a certain angle.

Given that most of the fans/stans do not personally know any of the people involved or personally know anything about the things that are/aren’t going on, it’s weird the way some fans/stans speak so confidently about what happened with SPN behind-the-scenes, production, writing, casting, you name it! 

Especially when it comes to PrequelGate. People will state with their whole chest, that their version of events is absolutely correct. One J is an asshole, and one J is an innocent baby. Which J is which depends on who is talking. It can be either or both. The only thing that all fans who have theories have in common is that there is a definite good guy and a bad guy.

But the Js are still friends. They say they got over it and forgave. Since no one has given any details, I thought I’d join the bandwagon and come up with a theory of my own. One where there is no good guy/bad guy. So here goes.

I fully believe that the story of The Winchesters was not meant to be an AU. It was supposed to take place between 15.19 and 15.20, with Dean and Sam finding out about their parents.  They had to switch it to the AU version because of the leak, a new timetable, and the fact that Jared was no longer available. There is also a recent podcast (I don't have a link) where a writer from The Winchesters said that Robbie Thompson, the writer and show runner for The Winchesters, kind of knew that they were only going to get 1 season because of all the mergers/sales of the networks and studios.

Robbie Thompson said in an interview (https://tvline.com/news/the-winchesters-recap-season-1-finale-dean-heaven-multiverse-jensen-ackles-1234942742/)  “There was the spot that takes place in between Episodes 19 and 20, when what happens to Dean happens to Dean… So there was an opportunity to tell stories there, but that just didn’t work for me because we wouldn’t have access to Sam in that way, in a way that we could easily explain or at least emotionally explain, and that just didn’t feel like it was a story that certainly I wanted to tell and none of us did.” (Underlining mine) They wouldn’t have access to Sam because Jared could not be involved. Not because no one wanted him, but because he just couldn’t.

The reason I believe this is because of the following.

It starts with Virtual Con (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADYwrZ787a0) held in March 2021. In the video, the question about Chaos Machine projects starts at around 23 minutes. Watch Jared’s face throughout Jensen’s whole answer. He’s nodding along, looking at his screen, and not even showing the slightest surprise in what Jensen is saying. He doesn’t because he already knows. To me, that is the face of someone who already knows what the other person is talking about. Jared already knows which projects Jensen is working on. He knows which alum he is talking about. So he just sits there and lets Jensen answer.  His quip at the end that he will also be acting in it is just that, a quip for the fans.  Because (supposedly) he is bound by a 5-year contract to CBS. He can not legally get involved in Jensen’s project with WB. He can acknowledge that he knows about it, but he has to show that he is absolutely not involved. 

Next is the announcement of The Winchesters in June 2021 by Deadline. There were tweets by Jared that said he was upset that he didn’t know about it and that he wasn’t involved. There was also a tweet directed at Robbie Thompson calling him a back stabber that was later deleted. And, silence from Jensen, because he was unable to come online and address anything because he was on set in Canada. 

Things were set in motion that were not meant to be put in motion for a while. I don’t think Chaos Machine was ready to start casting/filming yet. I think Jensen and Jared were trying to make it work with CBS so that Jared could be involved in the prequel. But those talks weren’t finished, or possibly even started yet. But the leak by Deadline, the WB/Discovery merger, and Mark Pedowitz leaving, combined to put pressure to do the show sooner, while Pedowitz was still in charge. If they waited, then nothing might come of Chaos Machine’s deal with WB once the new owners came in. Maybe they were waiting for Jensen to finish shooting The Boys to get together and talk about all this, but they still hadn't.

And this is what Jared was upset about. He thought there was time before the show would start, so was surprised that it was announced without him knowing. It also explains why he thought Robbie Thompson back-stabbed him. Because he was going to be a part of this show, and now he couldn’t. He couldn’t even say he had been part of the development from the beginning because it would be against his contract with CBS. He can’t even say wants to be a part of it now, because again, it would be against his contract with CBS. He’s upset, because he hasn’t had any communication from Jensen about this going through, and Jensen was also unreachable. So he vented online a little.

Once this narrative that Jared was never involved, and would not appear in it, spread, all of them had to run with it. Jensen apologized for not telling Jared. He said he was superstitious. He wanted to tell Jared, but he didn’t have his phone. That he was on set. That Jared couldn’t participate because he was busy. Etc. etc.

But, when Jared spoke with Jensen, and was (possibly) made aware that the news came out because it was leaked, and that they didn’t have time to clue Jared in, and (possibly) they were thinking of doing the show sooner because of WB, Pedowitz, Zaslav, etc., and that they were still in a holding phase, Jared forgave Jensen.

All of the above explains the inconsistencies and “lies” and “tantrums” and finally the forgiveness, and moving on. 

I choose to believe that neither Jared nor Jensen are entitled assholes. They do not owe the fans any BTS details.

I’m sure people can tear this apart, but their theories don’t hold up either. 

[normspellsman]

what sports i think the metkayina trio + spider would play modern au headcanons!

second part to what sports i think the sully children play!

slowly but surely trying to get thru this writer block & hiatus 🤞🏽

ao’nung

swimming and/or water polo

— he probably just naturally has a build built for water sports so he excels in it & is super cocky about it too (#blessedgenes)

— was defeated not given the choice on which sport he’d play when he was younger. both of his parents probably did either sport so they’d want him to also do it as well. or they at least wanted him to do one

— i don’t see him being the team captain but he’d def be co-captain or an alternate. he loves the sport don’t get him wrong but not to the extent where he’d be team captain. he already has enough pressure to perform well & doesn’t need that kind of title placed on him

— def see him being a butterflyer or a backstroker. like he much rather do those strokes in a swim meet than the other two

— is 100% the type of kid to have “eat my bubbles!” sharpied onto his arm or lower back during meets. probably begged his mom to write it on there too 😭

— also has to have the order of his races written on his arm so he doesn’t forget the order & where he’s supposed to go

— sees no point in wearing a swim cap

— always challenged himself by trying to score a point higher from his last game in water polo or get a better time in whatever stroke for swimming. he’d make sure to ask his parents to like reward him or something so he’d have the drive to do it. but even then, he’s still able to do it without the prize

— wears sandals everywhere. period. no arguments.a

— has such a bad swim trunk tan line. he really tries to get it even in the summer or during swimming season by wearing speedos lol

tsireya

volleyball (indoor, sand, + grass)

— girl is graceful asf on the court

— position would probably be setter or outside i feel like. she might not have the height for it but def has the hops. like a secret weapon of sorts. you’d never expect it

— is 100% the team captain

— she is so supportive of her team & always makes sure that one of her teammates is not stuck in their head or blaming themselves for a bad play

— i can see her number either being 1 or some random ass number, like 49 or 27

— always has the best hair-dos on the court. she seriously goes all out

— def the designated braider of the team so she has to make sure her girls are looking fresh asf on the court too 🫶🏼

— very humble about her accomplishments & wins. she very much believes that an individual does not win a game, a team does so all of that congratulations should be projected to the team rather than on an individual level

— probably has this pregame ritual where she gets there super early to get used to the size of the gym/court. peppers by herself & gets into the zone 100%

— does volleyball literally all year around. so she’ll do school & club for indoor, sand in the summer, & grass for fun. it’s her whole life tbh

— ronal is 100% the team mom. no questions asked

swimming

— i can also see her doing swim, but like only for a club during the summer when she doesn’t have anything for volleyball

— her & ao’nung are the best sibling duo in this sport 100%. they’re always paired up for a medley relays

— she likes free style more than the other strokes so that’s her main event during meets usually

— isn’t as passionate about it as her parents or brother. would much rather do & play volleyball than swim

— is also the kid to have “eat my bubbles!” written somewhere on there body lol

rotxo

soccer

— i can def see him playing soccer & being like a striker or a forward

— is def the one that annoys the coach to no end & ends up causing the team to run laps bc of it. sometimes it’s totally not intentional. it just happens lol

— team clown 100%

— he doesn’t really score a lot of goals but he does assist his teammates in their scoring. has the most assists on his team (idk if that’s a thing in soccer)

— has the most weirdest celebrations ever whenever he does manage to score

— been playing since he could walk fr

— jersey number is probably something like 14 or a random even number. bro likes even numbers for some reason

— is a really versatile player & if need be, can play goalie or be a defender if a player is out sick or injured

— def plays for his school & local town club

baseball

— can def see rotxo playing this as well

— most definitely a catcher (idk why but i just see it)

— probably only got into it to work on his soccer skills somehow or to work on his eye & hand coordination since he’s quite good with his feet & eyes

— only plays for his school since soccer usually takes up most of his free time

— lowkey has a wicked curveball

— he likes the catcher uniform bc it looks like he’s an autobot from transformers lol

— surprisingly somehow became captain & doesn’t know what to do with that title most times

— really good at determining calls for the pitcher & suggesting what they should throw next

spider

hockey

— no one would expect someone like spider to play this sport so everyone’s shocked when he says what sport he plays

— probably a defenseman & has the most penalties on his team lol

— ^ will literally fight everyone on the ice if need be. he plays dirty & truly doesn’t give a single fuck

— not a team captain but probably one of the alternatives. he’s more on the silent side regarding his “captaincy” but has the ability to talk his teammates up when they aren’t playing very well. bro has a way with words fr

— a lot of people think he’s a playboy hockey player but that’s FAR from the truth. he barely has enough confidence to talk to a girl on & off the ice. poor boy just shuts down

— since he’s like 6’0+, his build is really intimidating & he uses it to his advantage. def slams others into the boards as hard as he can when they’re down however many points. like, just imagine a 6’0+ dude like spider skating down the ice at literal lightning speed to slam you into the boards. i’d be shitting my pants fr

— started playing at the age of like 4 or 5 probably

— he loves skating so much that he goes to the rink or puts on rollerblades & just skates around to calm down or let out some steam. it’s really his outlet

— his number is most definitely 69 or 96. some funny shit like that

— will also defend his teammates with his life on the ice if someone were to fuck with them. that’s his family. he’d do anything for them

— ^ especially their goalie. bro is only gentle with their goalie & if anyone fucks with them, you best expect his gloves to be thrown & knuckles bloody from how hard he punched. ride or die fr

— nicknames probably consist of spider (obvi), kilometer (for miles lol), socks (for socorro), ironfist (for how much he gets into fights), & oreo/orro (for socorro)

— has the talent & ability to potentially go to college for hockey. he puts so much time & effort into his skills & the sport & it def shows through how he plays

[604to647]

Mi Galleta (Part 4 - Oatmeal Raisin)

6.4K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: Pero tries to get back in your good graces.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), angst, reader is hard on herself, pining, pet names (Cookie, princesa, hermosa, etc.), standard warning for Biker!Pero even though this isn't a biker AU, reader can wear Pero's shirt, eventual smut, unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving), they are IN LOVE OKAY 🥹

A/N: It's a HEA, don't worry! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed along with this mini-series! I can't believe I completed something 🥹

Series Masterlist

Pero is desperate to see you and to serve his penance for whatever you may have heard, but you won’t return any of his messages and all his calls go straight to voicemail; he’s pretty sure he’s been blocked.  Of course, he knows where you work and where you live, but he doesn’t want to scare you or make any of your spaces feel unsafe by showing up unwanted and unannounced, so he doesn’t go to you.  But it’s killing him.

You don’t come to the restaurant and neither do your friends.  In fact, the closest Pero comes to you for a month is when he spots Dorothy leaving one of Lin’s sister restaurants.  He had stopped by to grab some paper work when he sees her getting her coat from the coat check; after he calls her name, he watches her internally debate whether or not to ignore him, eventually separating from her party to stalk over to where he's awkwardly waiting.

“How is she?” he begs, unable to muster even a greeting or something remotely more eloquent.

Dorothy extends her hand and points her index finger directly into his chest, the force with which she pokes him shoving him back, “Leave her alone or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

She stomps off without another word, and he’s left feeling even worse than before; he can only imagine that Dorothy’s ire is reflective of yours.

He has to talk to you, has to know what you heard those assholes say so he can explain and soothe away the hurt caused.  But he doesn’t know how.

---

It’s worse than Pero thinks.  He’s broken you.  You remember sharing with him your insecurities surrounding letting your family’s wealth, or money in general, define you; Pero had nodded sympathetically as you explained how important it is for you to carve something into this world beyond the privilege that’s so plainly etched into your very presence.  It would be one thing if he thought you silly.  But this… to know that money is all he saw when he looked at you?  To hear Pero, William and those men reduce you to nothing more than a rich bitch, and write you off as unworthy of respect, undeserving of true affection?  It made you feel dirty.  Your money made you dirty.

You’re humiliated.  And your heart is broken.

You’re hard on yourself.  How could you have been so stupid?  Did you really think a few cookies and a kind smile would truly win over a man who abhorred snobbery?  He must have pegged you for an empty, vapid trophy fuck the first time he met you when you were just some entitled brat who wanted to eat at a fancy restaurant.  Why would he ever think differently of you?  How stupid of you to think he might.

Once in a while, you will recall Pero’s whispered sweet nothings and his soft touches, and your eyes will well up immediately.  He had fooled you so good.  You wonder if it disgusted him to pretend to care for you when he actually found you pathetic.  Or did it amuse him how easily you had fallen for his charms? Did he laugh at your dumb naïve heart?  You hate yourself a little for being so stupid. 

And you hate yourself a lot for still missing him.

“Guess what?” asks your boss, excited.

“What?” you can’t help but grin.  Greg is a good boss.  He’s mentored and trained you, and for the past few years, he’s treated you like his co-lead on the team, giving you the opportunities and responsibilities to help you rise in your career; broadcasting your value to the firm by seeking and relying on your opinions and decisions.  He’s a good egg.  You’re really lucky.

“Joanna is coming to town!”

Ahhh… Joanna is Greg’s boss.  She’s a good boss too, just a bit more restrained in her positive feedback than Greg would probably like; more than once you’ve surmised that Greg cultivated with you the type of mentor-mentee relationship that he had hoped for with Joanna.  Still, she’s an important figure at the firm and Greg loves impressing her. 

“That’s great!  Where are we going for lunch?” your eyes twinkle; if there was one thing Joanna likes, it was going out to eat on the company’s dime.

“Well… I need to ask a favour.”

“Ask away,” you smile, if you can help Greg get on Joanna’s good side, you’re happy to do it.

“I know you’ve been to that restaurant Lin?  The one on Cardero and has the rave reviews for its fusion food?  Joanna read about it and wants to go.”

Your heart drops the moment he says the name of the restaurant, but you successfully keep a placid expression in place and nod.

“I heard it’s hard to get into.  Impossible.  No, actually, I can’t even find out how to do it?  Do you have any idea?  Or… do you think you could get us in?” Greg puts his hands up in prayer and makes a puppy dog face at you, complete with comical pout.

It’s been almost two months since the day you had run away from Lin; no, since the day when those disgusting words and the sound of Pero’s cruel laugh had chased you out.  You and your friends haven’t been back, and to be honest, you haven’t done much going out since.  Eloise and Dorothy were perfectly happy to stay in with you, watch old movies, drink wine and wallow, but you hadn’t wanted them to miss out on the city scene; besides, as you reminded them, it was their job to go out.  So, at your insistence, they had gone back to the social scene, leaving you at home with your still very broken heart.  The idea of seeing Pero, of asking him for a favour, gives you a stomach ache just thinking about it.  Would he laugh in your face?  Pretend he didn’t know you?  Some other equally awful possibility your imagination isn’t masochistic enough to come up with?  Probably.  But, Dorothy did say she had a run in with Pero at another restaurant a couple of weeks ago; perhaps he no longer worked at Lin.  You wrestle internally with whether or not you want that to be true, but agree with Greg that it’s worth you giving it a try.

Pero barely registers when a group of patrons file into the lobby, most of them stepping aside into the waiting area, probably waiting for all of their party to show up.  He gives them a cursory glance while maintaining his glowering expression; he counts seven (so far) office workers.  After less than a minute, a man and a tall woman who’s impeccably dressed, walk in.  The man is chatting excitably to her, and she is giving him polite responses while taking in the surroundings of the lobby with an air of condescension.  Unexpectedly, they also move aside to join the group that’s waiting.  Pero would have thought these two were heading up the party, but he doesn’t have any time to register his surprise because the figure that was hidden by theirs, revealed when they moved to the side, is yours.

Although you’re not making eye contact with him, you do continue walking towards him and Pero’s heart leaps into his throat; he holds his breath until you reach his desk.

“Hi,” you finally raise your eyes to look at him. 

“Hi,” he exhales.  His heart hurts.  Your eyes seem dimmed, and you look like you’re trying to make yourself small, like you would rather be anywhere but here.

“I’m sorry to have to ask.  My boss’ boss is in town,” you give a small smile when you look over and nod in their direction before turning back to Pero, “She really wanted to eat here, and my boss really wants to impress her.  Do you think it would be possible?  I’m sorry to ask this of you.”

Pero can’t stop looking at you.  You’re more beautiful than he remembered.  And still so sweet and kind.  Even now, it’s clear you don’t want to be here, but you’re extending yourself to help someone else.  He wishes you knew you didn’t have to apologize.  He would never deny you anything, happily give you anything you desired, “It’s not a problem, you don’t need to apologize.  How many are you?  I’ll call up to Leah to expect you.”

“Leah?!” your face lights up knowing that one of people you were closest to at the restaurant is working today, “Oh!  I’m so glad! We’re ten, thank you.”

So thrilled and relieved to see your smile, Pero can’t help but break out into a grin himself, breaking the illusion of the fearsome bouncer he’s supposed to be, “She’ll be glad to see you as well.  Come on, call your party over.”

After everyone has filed into the elevator, you step in last and watch as Pero reaches in to press the button; for the first time today, you really look at him and mouth, “Thank you.”

Upstairs, you find Leah waiting for you with a big smile and an even bigger hug; after an enthusiastic greeting to you and your party, she leads you to one of the best tables in the restaurant.  You see Greg giving you a discreet thumbs up as Joanna looks around the large dining room, marveling at the elegant décor. 

“We would like to offer you our Chef’s tasting menu today.  It’s 12-courses, chef’s choice of his favourite dishes.”

“Oh!“ you look at Greg unsure, and he in turn also looks very unsure, especially when he sees Joanna smiling broadly; it sounds very expensive, maybe too expensive for a corporate lunch.  You’re just contemplating how you can manage to discreetly cover some of the cost when Leah shocks you, “Everything today is complimentary, please don’t be shy.  It’s everyone at Lin’s pleasure to have you as our guests.”

“Leah,” you start to protest, but she shushes you with a knowing look in her eye and a conspiratorial smile.

“That sounds wonderful!” exclaims Joanna, and when you see how she beams, impressed, at Greg, you nod in assent at Leah, who grins back at you.  After she leaves to put in everyone’s drink order, you excuse yourself and follow her.

“LEAH!!” you hiss, when you catch-up to her next to the kitchen.

“Yes?” she looks up at you with an innocent expression.

“That’s too much! Let me pay for some of this!”

“No can do, hun.  I’m under strict orders to spare no expense for your table today.  Give your boss’ boss the VIP experience.”

“Oh Leah,” you soften.

“He misses you.”

You don’t have a response to that.

“And he’s been a miserable grump to everyone at the restaurant.”

This you can easily believe, “I’m sorry, Leah.  He… broke my heart.”

She looks at you like maybe she knows something you don’t, but also with something like sympathy; after another hug she makes a silly shooing motion with her hands, “Go on back to the table.  Drinks and the first course will be out shortly.”

Lunch is superb.  Each course more tantalizing than the last.  One might have thought 12 courses was too many, but each dish is perfectly portioned and sequenced so that the flavours of each course build upon the one previous, culminating in one very satisfying meal.  Elevating the food to another level is the impeccable service and attention that you and your table receives.  It seems like your party is attended to by more than twice the usual staff; each person’s needs anticipated before they can even voice them, leaving them wanting for nothing.  At one point, you choke down a chuckle because it reminds of you those regency dinner scenes where each diner has a footman standing right behind them; it’s almost too much, but Joanna is eating it up.  Greg is elated, and you couldn’t be more pleased at seeing him triumph. 

When the after-meal coffee and tea is served, a giant cookie is wedged between your cup and its saucer; ginger molasses, your favourite.  You take a nibble and it’s heavenly.

“Hey!  How come the rest of us don’t get cookies?” jokes one of your teammates.  You look around and realize it’s true, you’re the only one that got a cookie.

Leah is quick to answer, “It’s an apology cookie.  For our lackluster performance the last time she was here.”

You know the true meaning behind the gesture and these words, but you can’t help but shake your head, “Don’t be ridiculous, no apology is necessary.  And even if one was warranted, which it is NOT, today’s exemplary service and food would have been more than enough.  We couldn’t be more impressed.  Thank you so, so much.”

Your table mates echo your sentiments and thanks.

Before you leave you leave the restaurant with your team, you force Leah to process a generous tip for all the staff on your card; she tries to protest but stops when you give her a scowl that you think would rival Pero’s.  Giving her a hug goodbye, coupled with a promise that you’ll try to come back soon, you ride the elevator back downstairs a jumble of emotions.

There’s no doubt in your mind that the special treatment your table received today was at Pero’s behest, but why would he bother?  It was enough that he had granted your party access, nothing else had been expected or needed; but the staff had gone out of their way to make sure your experience had been special, that Joanna was impressed and wowed.  You sneak a look at Greg’s expression next to you; he’s positively glowing.  You decide that you could drive yourself crazy trying to understand Pero’s motivations, but the important thing was that he had gone to great lengths for you when he didn’t need to and you’re extremely grateful.

You find that you don’t dread seeing him now the same way you did when you came in earlier, actually looking forward to thanking him for the kindness he has just shown you and your co-workers.

You’re the last to leave elevator and by the time Pero’s desk comes into view, you see that half of your teammates have already exited the building.  Ahead of you, Greg is earnestly shaking Pero’s hand, thanking him for his hospitality and singing the praises of the restaurant.  When you see Pero’s kind expression and the sincerity with which he clasps Greg’s hand in thanks, your already softening heart melts a little more.

Finally, it’s your turn. Pero’s been waiting for you.  Waiting since the elevator doors closed earlier.  Waiting since the day he knew you were last in this very lobby.  Your eyes don’t leave his as you approach; he thinks the expression in your eyes is a little softer than earlier, a little bit of the light that he’s missed is back.  For a what feels like an eternity, neither of you say anything, then simultaneously,

“Cookie…”

“Thank you.”  Pero gestures for you to go first.

“Pero, thank you.  The lunch was such a success and an incredible dining experience in and of itself.  I know it was all because of you.  Thank you.”

“Cookie.  Not me.  It was because of you.  Everything was for you,” Pero’s tone soft and pleading.  He doesn’t want to scare you away, but he can barely contain his emotions.  To have you here before him, your sweet face looking at him like you with something that isn’t the imagined hate that’s been haunting him – it's all he’s been hoping for for the past two months.

You don’t know what to say.  Why would he do this for me?

About to thank him again, you’re stopped when Pero holds something out to you.  It’s an empty container.  The one previously filled with the snickerdoodles you had forgotten on his desk the last time you were in this lobby.  Everything comes rushing back now.  Your chest tightens at the memory of the crass and demeaning words you overheard and the harshness of Pero’s cruel laughter that still rings in your ears.  And just like that, your good mood is shattered, much like your heart. 

You take the container back, hands shaking, and mumble another thanks; leaving quickly before you start to cry.

Pero stares at your retreating form, knowing that you’re hurting and feeling helpless that he can’t do anything but be the cause.

---

You’re unable to concentrate on anything once you get back to work, still reeling from the whiplash of emotions you’ve experience since seeing Pero again.  Luckily, despite your boss’ boss’ presence, the entire department seems to have collectively decided to forgo doing any work for the rest of the day, instead chatting happily about the experience at Lin and upcoming weekend plans.  Glad for everyone’s distracted state, you attempt to process your feelings.  Toying mindlessly with the cleaned container that was returned to you today, you open it when you feel the slight weight of something move inside.  Reaching in, you find a piece of paper, folded several times; when unfurled, you realize it’s a letter.

Cookie,

I’m so sorry.  I don’t know what you overheard the day you left me the cookies that came in this container, but I have to apologize for your ears ever being exposed to anything so offensive and vile; I won’t give it any credence by repeating any of it.  

The people responsible no longer work here and have not since the moment William and I were able to express our disgust for their comments.  If for even a second you felt that there was any truth to what was said about you, I am truly sorry – I cannot bear it actually, because, princesa, you mean more to me than you can fathom.

I would do anything for you.  Serve you willingly.  Do anything to see you smile or bring you a moment’s joy.  Cookie, I love you. I didn’t want the first time I said it to be in a letter, but it’s possible this may be my only chance, so here it is. I love you.

I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you; the day you came in looking for Lin felt like first day of the rest of my life.  What did I ever do to deserve you even looking my way?  I’m just a grumpy asshole.  But you’ve lit up my life every day since you entered it.  

I didn’t know life could be so sweet until I met you, my Cookie.  

Te amo, princesa,

Pero

You read it three times.  So he did think what was said about you was horrible.  But then… why did he laugh with them?  At you?  You suppose that if he truly thought you as worthless as those men, he wouldn’t feel one way or another that you overheard.  Oh.  His feelings.  You look over those words in the letter again.  I love you.

I love you.

The words swim in your head and make you dizzy.  If he loved you, why did he never come to see you?  Beg for you to hear his side of the story?  Why did he let you think he was perfectly content for you to walk out of his life?  He loves you?

But you had loved him too, didn’t you?  Before that day, and if you’re honest with yourself, maybe even since.  You had loved how soft he would turn just for you.  Loved his passion, how dedicated he was at a job he clearly loved.  How he took every opportunity to make you feel special.  How he made you laugh.  How he showed you the core of who he was: generous, loyal, kind.  How he praised those exact traits in you. 

The rest of the afternoon is a blur, your mind full of Pero and your chest bubbling over with conflicting and confusing emotions.  At the first opportunity that presents itself, you clock out early, bid farewell to your co-workers, and walk as fast as you can to Pero’s building.  Opening the door with more force than necessary, you march straight up to Pero’s desk; he sits up straighter, surprised at your appearance.  You slap his letter down on his desk in front of him and practically yell, “You love me??!?” and promptly burst into tears, the whirlwind of feelings you’ve been holding in all day finally overwhelming you.

Pero is up on his feet in an instant, wrapping his arms around you and crushing you to his chest, hands stroking your hair and back in what he hopes is a soothing manner.  Slowly, never letting you go, he walks the two of you towards the front doors; once there, he locks each lock, including the ground pins, never letting his touch stray from your body, his gaze from your sad face.  Then tucking you under his shoulder and once again wrapping his arms around you as you continue to cry soft tears, he takes you upstairs.  As the elevator door opens, you hear Leah’s greeting cut short when she sees who it is.  She barely gets two words in, “Pero, what ha-,” before he very definitively orders, “Leah, send everyone home, please.  We’re not opening tonight.  Tell everyone they will be paid and to consider it a night off.”  His tone leaves no room for argument, and Leah leaves swiftly to carry out his orders.

All the wait staff who had been setting up the dining room for dinner service scatter upon you and Pero entering; he guides you to the back of the room and sits on a cushioned bench, gently pulling you down onto his lap.  You remained buried into his neck, letting him calmingly rub your neck, back and legs until your sobs subside.

When you finally lift your head and look at him, eyes still glassy with tears, Pero gently dries your wet cheeks with his thumbs before answering your question, “Yes, Cookie, I love you.”

“But why,” you feel another sob welling up from your chest, “… why did you never try to come see me?  Talk to me?  Why was I so easy to leave?”

“Oh fuck, Cookie,” Pero presses a soft kiss to your forehead as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry.  I should have.  I should have tried every day.  I should have begged on my knees.  I wanted to.  I just didn’t want to scare you or force you to see me if you hated me.  But it killed me.  I regret not trying everyday to get you back.  I’m sorry, baby.”

He tells you about not wanting to make you feel unsafe by showing up when you didn’t expect him, and you have to admit that that was quite thoughtful.  “And it wasn’t easy to be without you, princesa.  I’ve missed you every day.  Your laugh.  And your voice.  And all the sweet and funny things you say that brighten up my day.  Knowing that you were hurt and that I couldn’t do anything, I felt so fucking useless.”

You glace up at him, nervous and pitiful the way you whisper, “You laughed, Pero.”

Pero looks confused until you explain what you heard.  His eyes widen in comprehension, realizing that all this time, it wasn’t just the foul words that you had overheard that had hurt you, but the idea, the certainty, that he had felt the same way as those morons.  His heart drops to his stomach.  He cannot get down on his knees fast enough to beg your forgiveness.  Gently lifting you off his lap, he slides to the ground onto his knees and takes your hands, laying them on your lap clasped in his.

“Pero, you don’t have to…” this is unnecessary, you think.

But to Pero it isn’t unnecessary.  In fact, it’s entirely necessary that he assumes this position of reverence and humility.  His expression solemn but desperate as he explains, trying to walk you through the events that you only partially overheard.  Needing you to understand that the laughter you heard wasn’t conciliatory, but an uncontrolled outburst stemming from his own anger.  As he speaks, you feel as if you were there with him, feeling the rage he felt at you being disrespected and insulted vibrating through his hands.  When he finishes, Pero’s exhausted at having relived those moments; the fury he felt once again fresh in his chest, but this time paired with shame that he ever allowed you to go about your life thinking he had felt anything but love and veneration for you.  He lays his head on your hands, ready to receive whatever harsh judgment you rain down on him.  He deserves it.

When he feels your soft hands move to stroke his face and run gently through his hair, he looks up to see you gazing back at him softly, eyes filled with tears again, “Oh Pero, I’m so sorry.”

Confused, he frowns a little, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Cookie.”

Shaking your head, you have to disagree, “I shouldn’t have doubted you, Pero.  You’ve shown me so many times how genuine and honourable you are, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt and let you explain rather than assuming the worst.  You deserved more from me.”

He can’t have this, you taking any blame for your own hurt; rising to his feet and pulling you up with him, he whispers, “I should have tried every day to explain.  To take better care of your heart.  You deserved more from me.”  Then he kisses you and your heart explodes; every emotion you feel: love, regret, relief, gratefulness, joy, all spill over and your lips desperately try to calligraph what you’re unable to say onto Pero’s.  He kisses you with the hunger and longing of a man far too long parched, one having just stumbled upon the oasis of your forgiveness. 

“How come Leah said we’re clos--,” William’s voice cuts through your dream-like bubble.  Pero looks up at his friend, who reads the situation for what it is immediately.  Your heart softens further upon seeing William, realizing you had misjudged him as well.  William is all smiles, his good nature not easily affected as he claps Pero’s shoulder and demonstrates happiness for his friend’s obvious joy. 

“If Leah can call everyone back, how about we still open, pay everyone double for the confusion, and I call in someone to cover the front door tonight?” offers William, and Pero easily assents with a nod of his head.

“Wait,” you say, pushing back slightly from Pero’s arms so you can look between both men, “…the two of you can just open or close the restaurant whenever you want?”

Pero and William glance at each other as you continue, “…and you make the pay decisions?  Like paying people for not working… or double?”

You look right at Pero, “And you have the authority to fire dishwashers and busboys?”

Pero takes a deep breath, “Cookie, there’s something I have to tell you.”

You’re looking at both him and William with such a high degree of incredulousness, Pero thinks that this is perhaps the first time he’s ever been on the receiving end of a look as stern as the ones he’s used to giving.  William looks sheepish and gives Pero a wide-eyed side glance that clearly says: Can’t help you, brother.  Sighing, Pero bites the bullet, “William and I… we’re not just the host and bouncer of Lin… we’re the owners.”

You take a step back and cross your arms, tilting your head and raising your eyebrows, silent while you take this in.

“The restaurant is named after Lin Mae, William’s wife… and it’s not the only restaurant we own.  We have a restaurant group in the city… and in a few other cities as well,” finishes Pero, afraid to meet your eye.

“Let me get this straight,” you say very deliberately and slowly, “you’re an internationally celebrated restauranteur… and you let me cook for you??!” You punch Pero hard in the arm before covering your face in embarrassment.

Both William and Pero chuckle and Pero rubs his big strong hands up and down your arms, soothingly, “I love your cooking, Cookie.”

Voice still muffled behind your hands, you sigh, “Don’t patronize me.”

“I would never, princesa,” Pero pulls you close and presses loving kisses to your temple, “Truly, I’ve loved everything you ever made me.”

“Your cookies are the best,” chimes in William, “my favourite were the salted caramel.”

You didn’t know Pero had shared your cookie bribes, but the fact that William’s favourite were Pero’s least makes you smile a little.

A new thought strikes you, “Is this why I’ve never been to your place?”

At this, Pero does look ashamed, “Oh Cookie, I’m sorry.  I knew if you saw my place, the jig would be up.”

You wave goodbye to William as you and Pero head to the locker room to grab his belongings before leaving; after Pero’s confessions today, you won’t make the mistake of assuming any ill intent on his part again, but you are curious, “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“I didn’t intend on keeping it from you, I swear,” says Pero, thoughtfully, “but I can’t say it wasn’t a little bit liberating to have you get to know just me, without all the bells and whistles.  It’s very rare to be seen for who I am, and not what I do or what I have.”

This, you can understand well, and you know Pero knows you do.  You snuggle in closer to him, listening to the steady beating of Pero’s heart for the whole of the elevator ride.  As you exit the building and walk towards his bike, Pero does apologize, “But I should have told you the truth sooner, Cookie.  I’m not sure why I didn’t, except that things were going well and I didn’t want anything to change.”

He looks a little like a wounded puppy, and you decide that the two of you have wasted enough time on regrets so you lace your fingers behind his neck and pull him down for a deep, tender kiss. “You’re forgiven, Pero,” you purr into his mouth, “for everything.”

“Do you want to go to my place now?” Pero smiles against your lips.

Eyes brightening, you nod.  For some reason, going to Pero’s home for the first time feels like the start of a new beginning, and you can’t help but bounce a little in excitement as Pero lowers his helmet over your head.  The feeling of wearing a bike helmet, Pero’s helmet in particular, and getting ready to ride on the back of his bike again, drives home for you the realness of your reconnection.  You sigh in contentment as you anticipate the familiar hum of the motor beneath you.  Pero revels in a similar sentiment, unable to believe the good fortune that when he takes off tonight, it will once again be with the feeling of your arms wrapped snugly around his midsection.

Speeding past your apartment and riding further north, Pero eventually pulls into a garage beneath a luxury high-rise in one of the city’s most exclusive areas.  You chuckle when you realize it’s about a block away from where Dorothy lives.  During the elevator’s long ride up, you jokingly ask if Pero’s ever had any near misses with Dorothy in the neighbourhood, and his laughter while he shakes his head leads you to believe he has.

When the elevator doors open to a private foyer with only one locked doorway, you realize, he lives in the penthouse, the fucker!  Your breath is taken away the moment Pero opens his front door: floor to ceiling windows border the open concept space so you can admire a near 180 degree view of the city just from where you stand.  The room has a simple, modern aesthetic, but you’re not fooled by the minimalist look of the furniture – your keen eye can tell that everything in this room has been thoughtfully selected for its quality, fit and function.  Though understated, the luxurious feel of the décor is evident; everything has its place, fitting together elegantly.  You spy a few personal touches of Pero’s, including a model of a Ducati motorcycle that looks familiar even in its miniature form.  But what truly leaves you awestruck is the kitchen: the cabinets and appliances are primarily stainless steel, giving it a professional industrial look, but the accent surfaces of marble and white lacquer tie in the space with the rest of the apartment’s sleek feel.  It’s huge.  And well loved, you can tell.  You hungrily eye all the cool kitchen gadgets and appliances resting along the counter tops and the large marble island that centers the design.  Your mouth might water a little at the thought of all the delicious food that has been prepared here.

“Hungry, Cookie?” asks Pero, amused as if he can read your mind.

Turning towards him, you see how relaxed and at home he looks among all this understated luxury, and not for the first time, you find yourself stunned by how devastatingly handsome he is.  Throwing yourself at him, your mouth connects with his, open and willing, “Yes, Pero.  I’m hungry.”

After removing each others’ clothing in a frenzy, giggling while tossing garments behind and over furniture, flinging some to the far corners of the room, Pero gently lays you down on his plush carpet, ready to worship you.  He takes his time kissing and licking each line and curve of your body, reacquainting himself with every dip and valley, as if he could ever have truly forgotten their taste.  Each shudder and whimper he pulls from you a small victory for him that your body has missed him too. 

By the time Pero buries his face between your legs, you’re boneless and aching, a sticky mess already painting the inside of your thighs as you cry out for Pero to give you some relief.  Your hands tug and pull at his hair, your words drip with soft pleas, then desperate demands, but nothing with hurry Pero.  He’s on a mission to seek penance from your pussy and nothing will deter him.  Every lick and stroke of his tongue an apology, each flick and circle of your clit an atonement for his wrongs, his two, then three fingers curl inside you pleading for forgiveness.  You grant it with your back arched and your mouth open in a soundless scream, forgetting why you had ever even been apart.

When he finally enters you, it’s slow and sweet, arms bracing your head and fingers stroking your hair as he whispers words of love and praise.

“Missed you so much, Cookie.”

“Feel so good around me, princesa.  Never going to leave this perfect cunt again.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Your eyes never leave his, even when they fill with tears.  He just feels so good.  And you missed him so much.  Now he’s yours again.  He was always yours.  And he loves you.  And you love him, too.  You sing it so he knows.

It’s slow and sweet, until it’s not.  The urgency of Pero’s thrusts is accompanied by the crushing of his lips to yours.  As your tongues dance, your fingers do the same on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the summit.  Every drive of Pero’s hips bottoms him out deep in your cunt, the force of which you absorb with pleasure, crying out for more, more, more.  He gladly delivers - he’ll never deny you anything ever.  So long as you remain his, everything that’s his is yours for the taking, “Take it, princesa.  Take my cock like the good girl you are.”  You do as he commands, taking it all until you come, clenching down so hard on his length that Pero’s own fall isn’t far behind.  Both still panting and lightheaded from your twin highs, you hold each other close with Pero softening inside you, kissing and whispering I love you until you both come back down to Earth. 

---

Padding into Pero’s kitchen wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts, you wrap your arms around Pero’s waist as he lifts the cookies from the baking sheet with a spatula.  Handing you a warm cookie, he watches you in anticipation as you take a bite.  The reversal of your roles from when you first met not lost on him.

The sweet taste on your tongue is heavenly, “10/10.  Ginger molasses, my favourite,” you beam, “This tastes a lot like the one at the restaurant.”

“Of course it does, Cookie,” Pero answers, as if it’s obvious.  He continues to transfer the remaining cookies to the cooling rack, “Who do you think gave the recipe to the kitchen?  I had them start to bake them a while ago.  Just wanted to have something at the restaurant that reminded me of you.”

“That so sweet,” you coo, reaching for a second cookie.

“And maybe subconsciously I thought, bake it and she will come.”

Munching down on the sweet treat, you quip, “You really have Joanna to thank you that.  She’s the one who wanted to come to Lin today.”

“I mean, if we’re going to get technical about it, the person I really have to thank is Dorothy, since she’s the one who wanted to eat at Lin in the first place,” shrugs Pero.

“Should I invite her over?” you giggle, only half joking.

“Why not?  But maybe put some pants on first,” chuckles Pero, as he turns to clean the dirty baking tools in the sink.

Giggling as you head to Pero’s closet to find a pair of sweatpants, you type out a message on your phone: Dorie, you’ll never guess where I am!

2 years later

“… the bride was a vision in custom off the shoulder, full length Vera Wang.  The bridesmaids wore matching vintage Gucci from Tom Ford’s 1996 collection.  Not to be outdone, the groom, elusive restauranteur Pero Tovar, impressed in his custom black and white Zegna tuxedo.  Guests were in for a special surprise and honour; the reception of the joyous nuptials was held in the restaurateur’s newest addition to his culinary empire with the celebrations serving as the restaurant’s private opening.  Per a statement from the groom and his business partner, William Garin’s representatives, the restaurant, which will have its public opening following the happy couple’s honeymoon, is named ‘Mi Galleta’ as a gift to his new wife.”

[lightlycareless]

I keep thinking of naoya making a fool of himself around y/n and y/n just being confused (idk) like he tries to get her to like him but it doesn’t turn out well😭 , idk if that made sense sorry!!😔

Hello!!

Awww this was really sweet to think about, however I got confused in the end and made it somewhat of a happy ending lmao.

Well, I still hope you like it!! (If anyone wants angst tho, I do recommend reading my valentine's day special. But I too been wanting to write something heart clenching for a while, might get onto it....)

warnings: highschool au. naoya likes you but he doesn't know how to approach you. he is ridiculous.

Happy reading!!

A silly Naoya is more like an overconfident Naoya, the type of guy that will never stop bragging about ANYTHING just to make you look his way.

It's certainly worse when he's barely starting to acknowledge his feelings, getting to that point where he finally says "I think I like her."

To stand out and get your attention is something Naoya never thought he'd need to do, simply believing that his title as heir of the Zen'in and his outstanding achievements as sorcerer would've done the trick—but they didn't, and now, he had to put in the work.

Thus, the borderline ridiculous demonstrations of his persona, courtesy of Ranta's advice; though if it’s worth anything, this is not what he envisioned.

"Can you believe he didn't want to accept my assignment only because I didn't hand it over in a folder? That's so stupid, can't wait to get him fired as soon as I—"

"Wait, Naoya, Y/N's coming!"

"ANYWAYS I WENT TO THE MALL THE OTHER DAY TO THIS LUXURIOUS STORE AND BOUGHT JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING THERE AND STILL HAD MONEY TO SPARE, GEE WHY IS EVERYTHING SO CHEAP NOWADAYS??? AND PEOPLE STILL COMPLAIN ABOUT THE ECONOMY!! I JUST WISH I HAD SOMEONE TO SHARE ALL MY MONEY WITH—did she look??? Did she turn around to see me??"

Ranta sighs.

"No."

"Ughghhhhhhh what do I need to do to make her see me?!"

Though frustrated, he does not give up.

"—yeah, I think we're going to this super expensive resort for the weekend. I personally preferred to travel out of the country, but you know how my father is, lazy as always. If it were up to that old man we’d never leave the—and now??? Did that work?? Is she looking??"

But the results are the same.

Naoya would keep on trying, loudly proclaiming things that in his mind would eventually earn him your interest, or at least a simple glance….

Until he, eventually of course, tires himself out. Sorrowfully finding that his endeavors had been nothing but fruitless as you continue living your own life, without Naoya in your consideration.

You’re slowly becoming someone unreachable to his grasp, and while he doesn’t plan on giving up just yet, he does intend to take a break, maybe reconsider his possibilities… before coming to a conclusion where you might not be involved anymore.

And what better way to clear his mind than indulging in one of his favorite activities—secluding himself at the rooftop of the school building to read the newest release of his favorite manga.

Unaware that someone else might be there, coincidentally… the person he wished nothing more than to be with.

"What are you reading?" You'd ask upon noticing the intense stare of the young, somewhat handsome man, he’s giving his magazine.

"Do you mind? I'm bus—o-oh!" He freezes upon realizing it was the girl of his dreams talking to him, cheeks burning red as he closes the manga and looks away. “Don’t—Don't you know it's rude to sneak up on someone like that?!"

"Ah, sorry!" You chuckle, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't mean to startle you, it's just that you looked so concentrated, I couldn’t help but to be intrigued! Is your story really interesting?"

"...it is" Naoya murmurs, gaze returning to you—he almost glances away yet again at your closeness, but your beauty makes it almost impossible to do so. "It's the latest chapter, I waited a whole month to read it."

“A whole month…?” you repeat. “Wow.”

“Yeah, it was a long time—"

“Hmmm, not quite.” You teased. “I’ve waited years just to see the continuation of my favorite series! Talk about dedication.”

“Huh, well, I don’t think it’s the same—this felt worse because of how good it is.”

“Really? I don’t know, I can’t believe you—I have to see what you’re reading for that. You grin, he smirks.

“Is that so? Then don’t let me stop you from finding the truth.”

And Naoya happily obliges, both excited to share one of the things he enjoys the most with the person he adores most, as well as the fact that you’re finally setting your eyes on him! After all this time!

He considered it to be incredibly unexpected, and perhaps a bit silly how it came to be, unable to believe that it took so little to impress you.

But as soppy as it sounds, there is truth in admitting that there is no better way to get someone to like you, than by being yourself.

omg that was so fluffy agkjasjghasjkghjsa cheesy too ahahahahah damn I surprised myself for sure!!

Rest assured, you heard Naoya do all of those things and consistently thought "Is he ok? Why is he yelling?"

After the two begin to date you'll tell him how weird it was of him to do all that hahahah though... "You didn't have to do that, I already liked you." Naoya feels even sillier :^)

Anyways, I hope you liked it!! I'm sorry this didn't end up in a sad note, I read the request very quickly and ended up understanding you only wanted an interpretation of Naoya being silly—though I do want to write something sad between the two, him messing up and all that. Luckily, I have the perfect excuse for that through other asks hehehehehe

Thank you so much for sending in this ask and for your patience!! Take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[eoieopda]

<whispers in your ear> Cheol x Reader where he’s her brother’s friend? 🙏

the one with seungcheol and the ruse

pairing: choi seungcheol x jeon!reader summary: your knight’s shining armor is actually of flannel, but he gets the job done. cw: reader’s gender/sexuality are left up to interpretation, annoying ex, alcohol mention, the setting is a bar, wonwoo doesn’t actually appear but my girl lee youngji does (lmao) au: older brother’s best friend, fake dating (sort of) type: drabble (fluff-adjacent) rating: pg15 wc: 1.4 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

The similarities between you and your brother start and stop with genetic material. While you’d rather die than spend a Saturday night at home alone, Wonwoo would sooner drop dead than divorce himself from his PC just to leave his apartment. 

All things considered, it’s not much of a surprise when you roll up to the bar with your friends and find your brother’s there without him. Just the same, you’re not shocked when the cursory wave you give goes unnoticed; they’re all too busy guzzling shots to care who walks by.

All but one, that is.

The oldest, Seungcheol, lifts his pint glass in acknowledgment when he sees you come in from the cold. That gesture comes with a bonus in the form of a lazy half-smile, which almost has you tripping over your own feet. Now effectively tattooed on your brain, you still picture that lopsided grin while you cross the room to claim a booth.

Of the boys taking up space at the bar, Seungcheol is the closest to your brother — and, as a natural consequence, the closest to you. So, you tell yourself, it’s only natural that your focus keeps drifting in his way. More than that, it’s polite, checking in to make sure he’s having fun. 

Wonwoo would want that for him, after all.

Right?

More often than not, Seungcheol is too engrossed in his friends’ shenanigans to feel your casual — polite — gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. Even though he’s not looking in your direction, you find it hard to stop glancing in his. It can’t be helped; it’s always been this way. There’s only one conclusion left to draw: 

Choi Seungcheol was tailor-made to distract you.

First, it’s the fact that his hair is quite a bit longer now than when you saw him at your parents’ anniversary party a few weeks ago. The more you stare at those dark waves, the more you try to justify it to yourself. As far as you’ll admit, it has nothing whatsoever to do with how soft those tresses look; nor any desire you may or may not have to touch them and test your theory. 

No, you’re simply trying to determine what vitamins or supplements he takes to achieve that perfect shine — because whatever he’s doing is working.

When you stop gawking at his head, it’s his hands that trip you up. The way they grip Soonyoung’s biceps when the younger of the two starts wobbling, threatening to topple over onto a soju-sticky floor. The urge you feel to throw yourself at the ground and see who catches you is purely scientific, you tell yourself. 

Research.

If it’s not his body, it’s the sound he makes, laughing like a mad man with his whole chest. You have to peel your velcro gaze off of him to see what he’s laughing at: Kim Mingyu, who attempted to catch a tossed peanut in his mouth but ended up getting hit between the eyebrows.

You’d let yourself be pelted with peanuts if it made him laugh like that again — and, quite frankly, you have no excuses left to give about why that is.

Nine times out of ten, your friends are smirking when you finally turn back around because they know exactly where your eyes keep wandering — and to whom. They point out the way your cheeks and ears flame up. Each time they do, you blame it on the alcohol, though none of you believe it.

When you turn around for the tenth time, however,  they’re not smirking. Instead, they’re pushing their empty glasses your way.

“You’re on refill duty, aren’t you?” Youngji asks with a single eyebrow raised. 

You’re not, but she’s not blind. She knows how much you want to hover, and how desperately you need an excuse to do so.

Seungkwan, quick on the uptake, chugs what’s left of his cocktail. His face is still twisted from the sour syrup when he waves his now-empty glass in front of you. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to; his narrowed eyes are menacing, and they tell you everything he’s thinking.

You sigh, put-upon, even though everyone knows you aren’t. Lips pursed tight, you keep that giddy grin to yourself as you collect the glasses and skip off towards the bar.

After giving your orders to the bartender, you glance — for the millionth time — over to your brother’s friends. The one you’re looking for is nowhere to be seen. Bravely, you do your best not to pout.

“Hey,” comes a low voice from behind you.

It’s a miracle that your head doesn’t roll with how quickly you swivel around. 

As soon as you do, your face falls. The excited flip in your stomach is swiftly replaced by a wave of nausea. Your tone is clipped and drenched in disappointment when you respond: “Can I help you?”

Your ex never could take a hint. They breeze right past that deadly look on your face, sidle up next to you at the bar until their shoulder is damn near bumping into yours. Worse, they open their mouth to speak again.

“Haven’t seen you around much lately —”

Is that not the point of breaking up with someone?

Desperate, your eyes scan the room for anyone who might notice the giant, neon exclamation point flashing above your head. Nobody you stare pointedly at feels your gaze on them, so you switch targets — again, again, again. Your brother’s friends are equally as useless as your own, it seems.

What if you tap “SOS” in morse code?

“— I’ve missed you. Missed us.”

Shit. 

Why didn’t you learn morse code?

You’re ready to sprint headlong out of the bar entirely when an arm — thankfully not your ex’s — drapes around your shoulders. With a quick glance up, you confirm that there’s truth to the meme: not all heroes wear capes. 

As it turns out, some heroes wear flannels, and they accessorize them with jaws clenched tightly enough to crack teeth.

“Jagi, who’s this?” 

Seungcheol’s posture relaxes just a little when he looks down at you. You swallow and keep your swooning to a minimum. There’s sweetness dripping from his tone that you want to bathe in. 

“I thought I’d met all your friends by now.”

When you let him pull you closer to his side — so close that your head can rest against his goddamn pectoral — you tell yourself that it’s just part of the bit. The affectionate smile he sends your way is part of the ruse. He’s convincing, though; you’d fall for this con, too.

You and your moon-sized eyes begrudgingly shift focus from Seungcheol to your ex, who still hasn’t taken the hint. That lovesick smile of yours is gone in an instant, giving way to the flattest affect you can muster. The sugar-laced voice you speak with is a far cry from the unblinking and unapologetic expression on your face. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t recall your name! What was it?”

Suddenly, Seungcheol unwraps his arm from around you. He seems to sense that this change-up startles you, so he winks at you while he leaning forward into the space between you and your ex; hands reaching for the drinks you’ve been waiting on.

Oh, you realize. He’s making sure you get the last word.

You swallow thickly as you reach out to take your burden off his hands. He shakes his head and beckons you with a smile, eyes softening. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ve got these.”

You do as he says, following close behind him like a puppy, and you only stop when he does. Seungcheol looks back over his shoulder, calling out first to the bartender: 

“Can you put these on my tab? The name’s Choi.”

Then, dropping all pretense of friendliness, to your ex:

“Get home safe, eh, chingu?”

When you both resume your path to your table, you squeeze his elbow and whisper, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he urges, shaking his head a second time. Although he’s smiling, there’s some unspoken conflict in his eyes that you can’t quite parse. You can’t ask after it, either, because he stops stalling and sighs, “That’s what pseudo-brothers are for, right?”

[infranuz]

“ MY GF’S FAMOUS ” — tokyo revenger headcanons ( x fem )

where tokyorev boys s/o is a kpop idol,, female reader,, draken, mikey, baji, mitsuya, chifuyu ,, modern au

— IVE BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS FOR SO LONG, just thinking abt it always had me thinking of ideas to how they would all have their kpop idol s/o im so glad to finally be writing this &lt;3

warnings;; none I think (hopefully..) most likely bad spelling and a lot of grammar mistakes (not proofread bc it’s late and I’m too sleepy,, hopefully everything is right tho..)

ryuguji ken “draken”

surprisingly he actually knows a thing or two about kpop and idols. Was surprised to see you pop up on tv when he stayed over with Mikey because Emma actually likes ur group. “Woah Ken-chin!! isn’t that [name]??” Draken seriously had to double check to see if it was actually you.

When you actually told him you were a kpop idol he kissed your forehead and said “I know” so proudly. Believe it or not he brags about it to his friends “my girlfriend is a kpop idol, you should stream their music!!”

ALSO he once dragged you along to a party (mitsuyas bday party) and everyone was there, when I tell you hakkai froze and almost fainted at the sight of you. #3 biggest and supporter right there (according to draken) you had to kind of step out for a second with draken before hakkai had a heart attack.

still he was so happy to meet you (his bias btw..) many congratulations and nice to meet you’s from him.

at some point paparazzi actually noticed you with him out on a date (thankfully they didn’t get to snap any pictures) draken dragged you out of the park as fast as he could covering you with his hoodie. he protects you from paparazzi you can’t tell me otherwise &lt;3

BONUS: whenever he hears your songs pop up on the radio (no matter where he is) he turns it all the way up. If anyone is around him he recommends your unit to them. “They’re really good specially [name]!!” (Of course he also looks up to your group members he just likes to brag about you a lot <33)

sano manjiro “mikey”

Once again,, surprisingly knows what kpop is all because of his sister. (I’m telling you Emma is a kpop Stan u can’t tell me otherwise) when he actually gets into your music he’s hooked

He would steal Emma’s photocard collection of you or pretty much anything with your face or name on it. Wouldn’t even feel guilty abt it, not one bit “she’s my gf I think that’s enough explanation!!” “WELL I BOUGHT IT SO ITS MINE” yeah they would both argue until you actually gave Emma new signed merch

MOVIE NIGHTS WITH HIM AND HIS SISTER and many Shinichiro.. you can’t tell me otherwise. You guys would have pop corn and snacks before watching the movie all while having your groups music playing on the background (supportive bf I love him <;3)

He hates paparazzi sm, I feel like he would be really jealous of other people taking pictures of you specially when you’re just trying to have a nice time at some cafe. Anytime paparazzi came to bash you and take pictures with you he would cling onto you and cover you from their view. “Only I should be able to take pictures of you” with a pouty face

You would take him to meet your group members and he would ask for autographs from each of them (to brag to Emma ofc). The dude doesn’t even know their names.. it’s okay tho because he’s now best friends with them!!

He actually stayed on set once you guys were filming an mv for your recently released song. Your group tried to get him to try and learn the dance (he actually made it to the behind the scenes videos which was him dancing with your group)

he reads those [name] x reader fan fictions, hee proud of it actually. Others can keep imagining while he can actually have the real thing, im almost sure he would actually have a fan account just for you.

he 100% goes to your concerts with Emma, you actually reserve him and his sister seats. Most of the time you’re always looking at him when you’re performing. if you send him kisses or winks while you’re dancing he’ll immediately go insane.

he gets backstage privileges. yes he does indeed get that privilege. always congratulated you and your group mates for your amazing performance. is extremely clingy after you guys leave for the hotel you booked. he ends up staying with you because he’s too lazy to drive back to his own house.

BONUS: CUDDLES, the best cuddles you’ve ever received in your life, specially after an exhausting performance. he takes care of you <33 “you did great today”

baji keisuke

he has some idea what kpop or idols are.. the moment you told him he just said “cool” Chifuyu would be the one to explain it to him. Afterwards he would be happy to listen to your songs and even buy your albums

100% convinced his mother would listen to you, idc idc fight me she would. His mother loves you i know she does, the moment you visited baji to meet his mother she cried tears of joy. give this woman free merch SIGNED, dude you would go as far as to take her to your group members so she could meet them all sobs.

once you were tired like really tired since you were coming from endless hours of practice so all you wanted was to spend time with your bf.. you knocked on the door and when he let you in all of his friends were there playing a board game

chifuyu who had begged baji to let him meet you immediately greeted you, bro was fascinated, astonished, flabbergasted to finally see you in flesh and bone. that day you stayed over and played games with them by the end of it you fell asleep. baji tucked you into his bed and afterwards fell asleep hugging you.

HE LOATHES ABSOLUTELY HATES PAPARAZZI. he almost punched one of them once because you were caught completely off guard as they took pictures of you with the flash on. “Piss off cant you see we’re busy??” Most of your fans actually think he’s rude but he’s a sweet guy who just wants to protect his gf <;3

No but fr he would go as far as to break some cameras just so you could have some relaxing time without having to worry about paparazzi. although many attempts have failed because there is abt 100 pictures of you and baji online having dates and picnics.. let’s just say he’s pretty pissed off abt it

baji would 100% teach you how to protect yourself from weird people, pervs and all that stuff. “There’s weird people out there so you need to know how to at least land a punch” you actually ended up sending some perv to the hospital for kicking him where it hurts. baji was proud yet disgusted at how the man even tried to make a move.

BONUS: yk how cats often come into his room, you always take care of them with baji when you stay over. it’s as if the cats were your children and you and baji were their parents.

mitsuya takashi

mitsuya actually listened to your songs even before you started dating. he was quite lucky (as he claims) to have met you that rainy day that you had forgotten your umbrella and he had offered his. “excuse me? here you can use my umbrella if you want” he was so sweet about it “ah, thank you so much I can’t afford my papers getting wet, will you be fine?”

you were surprised he didn’t bash you with questions and asking for an autograph so you guessed he didn’t know who you were. you ended up giving him your personal number so you could return his umbrella. he was shocked when he found out who you actually were,, the rest is pretty much history

his sisters love you, you always make sure to bring them some type of gift before visiting. mitsuya actually tries to get you to not buy them anything because he thinks it’s a lot but cmon now mana and luna deserve love. they wanted your groups albums for Christmas and they got that and more, you got all your group members to record some type of video and greeting they thanked you profusely afterwards

he’s a designer and you are an idol.. guess what that means. HE MAKES YOUR OUTFITS,, he totally does I know it. anytime your group and you come up with a theme for your mvs Mitsuya always offers to make your outfits. you always proudly wear all of his creations,, like for an interview?? red carpet?? music video?? or just an outfit overall Mitsuya is your guy.

paparazzi would be asking you who the designer is and all you have to say is “This is a piece made by my boyfriend, Mitsuya Takashi.. thank you for asking” he gained a few hundred of followers that day.

dates a lot of dates with him whenever you have free time, even tho paparazzi may sometimes ruin it’s okay because there’s a few 20 new pictures of both of you online showing the world how in love u are.

BONUS: movie nights with him and his sisters, it’s pretty much basically just you and Mitsuya since mana and luna always fall asleep on the first 10 minutes of the movie. anyway it’s more time for you and Mitsuya so win win??

matsuno chifuyu

now this little silly he has a whole shelf full of your groups albums, magazines and posters. he listens, streams, quite literally enjoys your music (he stans new jeans and wonder girls you can’t tell me otherwise)

your relationship is pretty much public, all of your fans know who he is. I believe they follow peke j’s Instagram account, (it’s what they love most abt your bf) like his cats account has more followers than his own main acc😭

every time you stay at chifuyu house you always make sure to bring some type of treat for peke j, he absolutely adores you. cuddle peke j and leave chifuyu outside his own bed quite literally

LIBRARY DATES,, you both go to the library to check out/buy manga and other books you may like. you guys have those cute little cafe dates where you guys either spend your time reading or just talking about your day and life

he watches your interviews, AND he was once invited to go into one. like a couple interviews or yk those interviews where couples get cards with questions that only they know abt each other. or just cute games for couples,, yeah those basically. fan base went crazy after that interview dropped

you planned on adopting a cat once so chifuyu recommended some adoption centers. sadly you didn’t end up adopting a cat but you did get a date at a cat cafe so a loss and a win?? “look at this cat!! her name is bee she’s so cute” so many cats surrounded him it was cute <33

he’s neutral abt paparazzi tbh, he just dislikes it when you feel uncomfortable being bashed by so many people at the same time. sadly he can’t do much about them,, but when you’re both out of their sight he treats you to whatever you want a lot of comfort from his part

BONUS: since you’re friends with a lot of other kpop idols you invited chifuyu once to meet some of them. he got to meet a lot of his biases and got a shit ton of autographs and merch,, afterwards he thanked you endlessly,, lots of kisses <33

©asalamis ,, please don’t copy, steal or plagiarize my work in any way, reblogs and likes are appreciated,, hope you enjoyed ty for reading <;3