#redolent void

[hexonthepeach]

dive

pairing: f4!nct dojaejung x fem!reader (past johnny x reader mentions)

genre: hana yori dango/boys over flowers/meteor garden/f4 thailand reverse harem au (mild allusions and characterization only)

warnings: brief mentions of past bullying, dom!doyoung, hopelessromantic!jaehyun, mommykink!jungwoo, reader is a bit of a switch, smut (mmmf, double penetration, oral f & m receiving/giving, unprotected sex, anal, semi-public sex), degradation/humiliation kink (reader), pet names: baby, mommy (reader), puppy (jw)

wordcount: 10k

author's note: i wrote this as a distraction from other projects after listening to perfume on repeat and lamenting the end of promo. intended as a oneshot but i have some ideas for continuation. please let me know if you enjoy it (and more importantly, what you enjoy)

The Bangkok night is warm and thick and redolent with flowers. The expensive vacation home one of your three companions had arranged for your short stay is quietly luxurious, separated from the city bustle but still hazed with light past the high walls and thick foliage surrounding the pool. 

You'd never made a habit of asking who paid for what with your travel companions, but you guess by the mix of old world and new that it was Jaehyun's idea to stay here–perhaps even a Jeong family permanent accommodation. His family's import business had done well in the region, judging by the luxury sports cars parked in the driveway.

Everything about this trip is surreal–worse for the fact that a fourth presence lingers like a ghost in your periphery. 

He should have been here. Indeed, you've taken his place, filling the natural void like a small drop in an ocean-sized hole. 

Everything about this distraction brought you back to him: the rose petals strewn across your pristine bed, the snarling garuda statue lurking across the aquamarine oasis. 

Johnny is 8600 miles away and still very near. 

Jaehyun joins you at the pool's edge, slipping some well-concocted drink near your manicured fingers–most likely Jungwoo's contribution by the tasteful sprig of flowering basil. You'd refused multiple drinks at the club, still flagged from a day of travel and self-conscious of the eyes on your table and you’d finally agreed to one now that you were back safe in your own private enclosure.

He shucks off his sandals to dip his feet in beside yours, nudging you beneath the water to remind you that even with the grief that's hollowed you out inside, you're not alone.

Jaehyun doesn't speak–well accustomed to your need for silence when you've inevitably descended into that space again. 

Unfortunately, Doyoung isn't as accommodating. 

"What did we say about moping, Y/N?" A tall shadow stands beside you, swaying slightly. 

"I'm not moping," you say, sipping from your glass of Mekhong soothed with sugar and soda. "Just thinking."

"Wasn't the point of this vacation to get you to stop doing that?" Doyoung is touching his toe to the warm water when there's a sudden rush from behind you, a startled cry escaping the man before he hits the surface fully clothed. 

"Was he bothering you?" Jungwoo asks, looking completely unfazed about shoving the other man in.

"You bastard," Doyoung says, spluttering up and tossing his hair back as he holds his phone out of the water.

"It's waterproof."

"That's not–"

"I'll buy you a new one." 

"Now you're going to have him trying to return the favor," you say, giving him a sly smile.

"Oh I think I'll be alright," he says with a wink, backing up a few paces before cannon-balling in. If you'd been doused by Doyoung's ungraceful landing you're soaked thoroughly by the splash Jungwoo makes, finding yourself shielded by Jaehyun's torso wrapped around you. 

You hadn’t even thought to protect anything but your drink, your heart stuttering as you find yourself inches from his flushed face and rosy lips.

"You okay?" he asks, wiping water from your face with his silk sleeve. 

"Yeah," you say quietly. "Can't see the tears now, right?"

He blinks at you, believing you by the clouded expression in his dark eyes.

"I'm just kidding. Not crying, see." You smile at him as best as you can muster, hoping your carefully-applied makeup isn't running off your face. 

"Don't you want to join us?" Jungwoo has escaped Doyoung by pressing himself to your knees, shoulders well out of the water at standing level. You shake your head, suddenly shy.

"You should have let those girls come back with us," you say. "All that work wingmanning for nothing."

"Blame Doyoung for boring them talking about tariffs," Jungwoo says, ducking as the other shoves water in his direction. "Besides, we didn't want you to be alone."

"You know I don't mind, puppy." You tousle his wet hair, sipping deeply again. Through the fogged rim of your glass you catch his cheerful expression falter. It lasts only as long as he realizes Doyoung is floating on his back, swamping him with a tackle.

"I asked them to keep it just us for tonight." Jaehyun says, breaking his quiet. 

"Saving the party for Phuket!" Jungwoo shouts in the background, mispronouncing the first syllable deliberately to sound like fuck it.

"Have someone you're missing tonight, too?" Your tease lands with a thud, watching your best friend's mouth crease at the corner as he chews his lip. 

"I'm sorry, that was rude–"

"No," he says. "I know how you feel."

"How far away is Paris?" you ask, not expecting an answer.

"5 hours," Jaehyun says, grinning slightly. It's a callback to so many months of watching him stare out towards the airport from the school rooftop with you, letting you listen while he mused on what she might be doing at that hour, how long it would take to get there. 

You'd encouraged him even as your heart broke–feeling the dwindling embers of a schoolgirl crush on him turn to ash. You would never be as good as his childhood love, even if you had taken up her place as his companion seated beside him on the piano bench when he practiced, or studying beside him as he drifted off into one of his many naps.

It was better this way–more comfortable just being able to be with him without the worry that you could live up to her, your heroine in highschool. But there would always be something there.

Doyoung clambers out to sit beside you, far enough away not to dampen the fuschia Versace metal mesh minidress he'd gifted you earlier. It was the perfect costume to play the part of nouveau riche jetsetter for a girl who lived one step up from a basement apartment. 

No one would mistake you for class, or even an influencer, but in their company no one was looking at you anyway. Most people thought you were Doyoung’s assistant or Jungwoo’s sister. The nasty looks, sometimes worse, always followed when they introduced you as their friend.  

"What can we do to make this a magical night?" Doyoung asks. You find yourself unable to answer, eyes caught on the smooth definition of his chest through the barely buttoned translucent shirt he'd worn out. You note he's lost the matching loose tie, probably still wrapped around a girl's neck on the dance floor.

"It's already so nice," you say, looking up at the blink of stars through the light pollution. "Thank you for including me." 

"You think we'd leave you behind?" 

The way he says you carries all sorts of strange subtext, considering your history. It had been a long journey from being mercilessly bullied and shoved into the dirt you came from, as Johnny had called it, to here. The lap of luxury, attended to by three specimens of wealth and privilege so out of your league you may as well be batting a thousand.

"Well it’s not like I got you in the divorce," you say, knot twisting in your chest. "I guess even now it’s hard to tell if you’re just being nice to me because you feel bad for me."

"First of all, he left all of us," Doyoung corrects. His voice is a little raspy, as if he's controlling his emotions. The admission leaves you questioning. You knew how close they were but they'd never shown any sign of being affected by Johnny's sudden departure.

Maybe you'd just been too busy wallowing to notice. 

“Second, you’re special. Too special to let just anyone play with. If you hadn’t noticed, we enjoy your company.”

"And when have we ever done something nice?" Jungwoo rests his arms on your knees, almost pulling you into the water. Jaehyun pushes him back with his foot, earning a tug on his leg that does little to move his immovable weight. 

"You're a package deal, though. Like a blend," you raise your mostly empty glass to drive your horrible attempt at a metaphor to death. “Even with one ingredient missing you can’t beat the original.”

“Well I won’t deny you're a strange substitute,” Doyoung says, gracefully using your words to make his point. It reminds you of how he’d spent hours drilling you with details of tea ceremony when your ridiculous coworker had asked for a demonstration of his family’s heritage business. 

“But taste requires innovation, and it’s often the unexpected addition that changes the entire flavor profile. You’re new but you’re refreshing, and unique. Not something to be discarded because anyone demands it.”

“That’s a very poetic way of saying you still like me even if I’m an uncultured pain in the ass.”

"Poor little weed," Jungwoo says, hands splaying over your bare thighs before Jaehyun can foist him off again. “Are you insulting Doyoung’s taste? You're the first girl any of us have agreed on."

"I doubt that considering what I saw last Friday. Did all of you sleep in Doyoung's room or did you take turns–"

You catch Jungwoo's scheming look with Jaehyun right before the cocktail glass is plucked from your hand and you're picked up on both sides, Jaehyun lifting you by the waist and Jungwoo taking over once you're free of the edge.

"Let me go," you shriek, folding over his shoulder. 

"Are you sure?" Jungwoo bends his knees until your hem is submerged, not phased as you beat on his back with soft hits.

"At least toss me in so you can get a head start," you threaten. He indulges you, lifting you up out of the water like he's going to help you recreate that pivotal scene from Dirty Dancing only to throw you back and into the deep end. 

You hold yourself in a ball and sink, breath held, channeling your best hello darkness my old friend as you wait for the inevitable. It takes less than ten seconds before Jaehyun dives in after you, pulling you up.

“Got you,” you say, grinning through the trickles of warm water. Jaehyun looks less than amused, lips thinning into a tight line as water drips from his bleached blond hair.

"Don't scare us like that," Doyoung gripes, joining you a few seconds too late. You shoot him and Jungwoo a look over your perch on Jaehyun's arm, clinging to him for comfort.

“Yeah, please.” Jaehyun breathes. 

"Is my makeup coming off?" you ask. He's been staring at you funnily as you float beside him, bodies brushed up in the expansion of his clothing and the occasional contact with his frame.

"What?" Your best friend sounds dazed, water collecting in his dimples as he smiles softly.

"What?" You parrot, teasing, mirroring him in the way your eyes dart to his mouth, not surprised to find his lip trembling. His uplit face is shadowed with hidden feelings you can only guess at. 

That years-old urge to kiss him returns. It could be considered revenge for back when he'd grabbed you and given you a taste of what it would be like that day after he’d come back from his trip abroad. You'd melted into him like it was the most natural thing in the world, the illusion only broken when Johnny had slammed the rooftop door shut on the way back down, flowers for whatever apology he'd half-assed scattered across the dirty tar paper.

You'd slapped him afterwards, surprised to find him smiling. He's in love with you, isn't he? Had to be sure.

There'd been so many times after that he'd played with your feelings you'd lost count, but one constant remained: he would never pursue you fully if he believed it would hurt his best friend.

Your chest feels tight just imagining what might have been, had you changed course back then. But you've long given up dwelling on might have beens.

Jaehyun is less mercurial now that he's older so you’re the one to catch him by surprise, lips pressing to his cheek right beside his mouth–in the smile lines you know too well. It's a quick send-off before Jungwoo can grab his legs and pull him under from below. 

Doyoung takes the opportunity to capture you by the waist, keeping you from becoming a casualty of their underwater fight. He looks just as serious as always, even without his usual glasses.

"Sorry about the dress," you say, working to stay afloat.

He laughs at you, prone to condescension as always. "If you like it we can get you another. But do you really want to wear the same thing twice?"

"Some of us can't replace our wardrobe every week," you huff. 

"Are you under the impression I'm replacing a bespoke suit collection every week? All I'm saying is you should have a new dress for every occasion. Especially if you're with us."

You jab him in the side, surprised at the hardness of his ribs but also delighted by his startled wheeze. 

"I'm not your kept woman."

"Not even if we want to keep you to ourselves?" 

A little shiver runs through you, making eye contact with him as he mouths the waterline. It's said so innocently but you know better. He and Woo had been dropping double entendres since well before takeoff from Seoul.

Flirting was Jungwoo's thing, a silver lining to the dark shadow of a personality that enjoyed being subtly in control. As the future heir to a crime syndicate it was much better than experiencing his hidden anger. Doyoung though . . . as much as he dabbled in shadier scenes and pretended to be a womanizer he's old-old-old money, from a strata inaccessible to anyone who's genealogy can't be traced back to the Goryeo dynasty. 

The idea of him folding you into his life, much less keeping you, is absurd.

“Well that does seem to go against the whole idea of this being a trip to finally get over . . . everything,” you say, deflecting from his intensity. “What happened to letting me live like the F4 for one week?”

“Is this not it?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“What if I want you to play wingman for me? Find me something meaningless to distract me?”

You're not expecting the dark storm that settles over his refined features.

“I think you have enough distractions here to keep you occupied.”

Your pulse picks up, hearing the hidden message loud and clear. He'd heard your laments to Jungwoo about how long it had been since you even thought about being with someone else, how you'd never really gotten to date after three brutal years of school, work, and accidentally making the worst chaebol tyrant in Seoul fall for you. 

Now that you're free for the first time in your adult life, you want to experience what it's like to be just another girl, like the ones they so frequently invited to their tables at function and club alike.

"Are you insinuating you're not going to let me bring anyone back if I find a fling? After I just spent all night singing your praises to a healthy pool of candidates? Double standard, much?"

Doyoung wraps an arm around you to keep your head from knocking against the tiled pool edge. He's backed you into it without you even noticing it. 

"You can try," he says, gripping the wall next to your cheek. "Though I would question the sanity and intelligence of anyone who took you up on it." 

There's his brand of cruelty: casual threats delivered without a hint of remorse. You'd been on the receiving end, perhaps were now, but you're not afraid of him in the slightest.

"You're not reporting all of this to him, are you?" 

Doyoung doesn't answer, nostrils flaring. 

"Or is he only texting 'Woo back?" you ask. 

"Who texted me?" Jungwoo asks with open curiosity behind him. 

Doyoung presses a single finger to your lips in warning, releasing you. 

"Didn't you get the number of that model? Miss Thailand 2016 runner-up?" You toss your head slightly to clear it, still feeling heat suffuse your cheeks from just a touch against your mouth. It really had been too long. 

"Oh she's too good for me," Jungwoo remarks, jokingly. "Besides, I already have a failed beauty queen right here." 

You snort. “In what world is second place a failure when it’s your first time?”

The contest had just been a university charity project but you'd worked hard to earn that spot after Johnny had entered you in as some kind of sick game from abroad. Jungwoo had helped you conquer it–had even got you a side gig modeling when his usual partner had dropped out at the last minute at one of his shoots. You’d just been there to deliver coffee and now you were on a cover being printed in 15 different countries. 

You always liked reminding Jungwoo of his Pygmalion moment because that's when you'd genuinely seen his kinder side–even if you suspected he may have threatened at least two of the judges to land you on the final stage. Losing had been worth it to spend time with the member of the F4 you’d never been close to in high school. 

"Maybe she doesn't deserve you," you say, swimming around him to grab him loosely around the shoulders. “Not many can appreciate having a personal rescue dog to save them from getting wrinkly fingers.”

You're immediately indulged, Jungwoo paddling you back to the shallow end where Jaehyun is lost in thought, staring at white blossoms from one of the trees in the courtyard floating in front of him. Doyoung is just as contemplative. 

It’s probably best to not let it stretch out any longer–you were always a fan of ripping the bandage off quickly even if it hurt. 

"I'm going to go take a shower and call it a night." You announce, hearing Jungwoo groan. "Unless . . ."

"Unless what?" Jungwoo perks. Jaehyun squints up at you where you stand over him. You look at Doyoung instead, as he drags himself out of the water to sit on the ledge beside the stairs.

"Unless you tell me what we really are."

The buzz of cicadas seems to die a little, soft music inside the house drifting out through the glass. 

"Friends, hopefully?" Jungwoo says.

"Well you aren't bullying me anymore, so yes. But friends don't keep their friends from moving on from past relationships."

"That's not at all—" Doyoung begins.

"Let me finish," you interrupt. He's immediately quiet, throat bobbing as he looks beside you at Jaehyun's taut shoulders.

"I'll never fit in with you or your world but we both stopped judging each other for that a long time ago, I think. I like spending time with you, I like knowing you'll still include me even if . . . " You can't bring yourself to say Johnny's name. "Even if I'm just another ghost who's outstayed her welcome."

It was their term for dropped flings and casual encounters, with a whole subset of terminology for the ones who couldn't get the hint (poltergeist), or lost their cool at their dismissal by screaming and crying (banshees). 

It hadn't been like that for you even the second or fifth time Johnny had broken up with you–always for reasons out of your control. You'd shown him the same aggression and cruelty in answer, but you’d never begged for him to take you back, ever, and you certainly had never sought out his friends. 

It had always been their prerogative to spend time with you, and you’d leaned into it your freshman year of university study and singlehood, wanting the support network denied you by being alone and poor in a city you could barely afford. You’d never take their money but you had accepted their company, and had enjoyed it far more than you could have imagined. 

Even if it kept you in Johnny Suh’s outer orbit, what you had with them meant something to you. You didn’t want to lose it when he came back. From the press releases about his recent promotion, it would seem to be soon.

Waiting for that inevitability is like attending your own funeral before you’re dead, pallbearers for company. 

"You're not a ghost," Jaehyun says. "And we won't abandon you, ever."

"You'll just keep me and this dynamic trapped in amber until Johnny changes his mind, then? It's been a year already. I don't want to lose any more of my youth to him, and I don't want to lose you when he comes back and you all act like he's done nothing wrong."

"That won't happen," Doyoung says, sighing. 

"No, because I'll leave before then." You get out of the water, brushing your face free of the hot tears. "Wouldn't want to ruin your fun."

Jaehyun pulls you back, strong enough you lose your footing and sink into his submerged lap. 

"You're not going anywhere," he says. There's no malice or anger in his tone, just quiet assurance. He cleans your face again, blue silk cuff coming away black with mascara. 

"You asked what we are. Remember when you used to come sit next to me under that stupid ad?" 

"Yeah?" you sniff. You'd spent hours with him sitting on a city bench as he stared up at a billboard for luxury clothing with her face on it. She’d been the dream he chased at your urging, the fantasy that had sadly broken with proximity.

"When I was in France, after things became clear, I would go and sit somewhere and pretend like you were there with me."

"I hope it was somewhere fun, like the Louvre," you joke. 

"Too crowded." He shakes his head, smirking. "Would look weird talking to myself."

"Oh you talked to invisible me but you couldn't pick up the phone once?"

He shakes his head again, squeezing you. 

"Anyway. The point is you're stuck with me. And them."

"And Johnny . . .?" 

"Stop bringing up our ex," Doyoung says. Not your ex, our ex. 

"It's a valid concern," you say, adjusting in Jaehyun's hold to rest your head against his damp shoulder. "I'm not going back to him. And I know you'll choose him over anyone else."

"No," Jaehyun says. 

"You're the exception." 

You lift your head to blink up at Doyoung.

"Didn't think you made those."

"Well you just haven't spent enough time with me, then."

"You planning on spending time with me?" You smile lazily, hand drifting to squeeze his leg. It's always fun to see his unflappable face twitch.

"He already blocked off half his itinerary for private tours. Jaehyun had to fight him to split it equally," Jungwoo says. Doyoung splashes water into his face with his foot.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he says sourly. 

"Like the massage tomorrow morning?" 

This time Doyoung's kick makes waves wash over you and Jaehyun, leaving you spluttering.

Jungwoo takes it, smiling once his floppy brown hair is pushed back out of his eyes again. He grins at you from the water. "You'll take your dog for a walk when you remember I exist, right?" 

"Why not just come with us?" You'd often wondered if there was an invisible tether for how often they appeared together.

Doyoung clears his throat, Jaehyun shifting uncomfortably under you. 

"What am I missing?" You laugh awkwardly, looking between them. 

"I forget the only man you've ever dated never dated anyone seriously, either." Doyoung looks somewhat pleased with himself. "Traditionally when you spend time with someone you're interested in you don't have company–"

Shock runs through you like ice dumped over your head. "You can't be serious."

Doyoung's face is incredibly serious, Jaehyun's proving only a little more relaxed about the disclosure. You turn around to Jungwoo, floating nearby with a humored expression. 

"You're not part of this are you, 'Woo?"

"Of course I am. You deserve a break from stuffy museums and romantic dinners to have some real fun."

His eyebrows lower a bit in some sinister joke, and for the first time a little fear courses through you. It's been a long time since you saw their manipulative and controlling side, but bringing you to a foreign country to date you, their best friend’s ex, without telling you . . . That's a whole new level of it.

"This isn't a competition, is it?" You hide the tremor in your voice. 

"Between us? Of course it is," Jungwoo says.

"And the terms?" You look at Jaehyun, who is unable to meet your gaze. "Let me guess, whoever fucks me first?" 

His eyes widen in genuine dismay, panicking. "No, of course not–we just wanted to give you a chance to decide if . . ."

"If what?" 

"If you liked one of us more than the others," Doyoung finishes for him. 

You find yourself breathing heavily, face flushed. 

"What if I can't choose?" You ask, gaze fixing on Jaehyun's mouth as he bites his lip, still looking guilty. 

"If you decide you don't want to be with any of us, then things stay the same. Nothing changes. We'll still be friends." He says it all slowly, deliberately, almost as if it’s rehearsed.

"And if I choose one of you? Do I get to suffer the jealousy complex of another deeply insecure and emotionally unavailable man?"

That hits them where it counts. They'd all watched Johnny take out his fears on you, masked under bravado, posturing for an audience that more often than not was just you and his friends. His peers had rarely done the same, unless you counted Jungwoo following his enforcement orders like a loyal hound or Doyoung orchestrating clean-ups. 

No, they'd skated clean through multiple horrorshows by simply being there to throw their weight. No one else had the notoriety and resources to cover up the trail of damage left in Suh's wake.

You stand up again, turning between them. "And none of you are worried about Johnny finding out?"

A lump forms in your throat, bitterness about even having to invoke your own personal demon. Yes he'd walked away, but you knew his sense of entitlement would never allow his interests to be compromised by another–especially his closest companions.

And here they are, looking between each other and discussing your fate with the deliberate calm of a business transaction.

Apparently the only consequences were for you.

"Or is that the real game you're playing here," you ask. "Degrade me so far in his eyes he'll want nothing to do with me while you write me off as disloyal trash."

Jaehyun sucks his breath in through his teeth, and you note how hurt he looks. Jungwoo seems even more upset, full bottom lip jutting out.

"I know what you've been through, and I know it will be a long time to forget," Doyoung says. "But we're not him."

You remember an old saying your father had taught you: when you're holding a hammer everything looks like a nail. Better applied to problem-solving perhaps, but you'd also been dealing with one, giant nail-shaped problem since he'd crashed into your life. It was stuck in your heart and time and healing hadn't removed it. Maybe it was permanent, but you still had to live with it. 

"I just don't understand how you think you think this will work."

"You're awfully concerned about what he thinks," Jungwoo says, rising over you. "What about moving on?" 

"I don't give a fuck what he thinks. I'm just looking out for you. You know he'll punch first and ask questions later. What if he does something reckless?"

Jungwoo is laughing at you through closed lips, eyes crescented in mirth. "We have you to protect us, right? Just roundhouse kick him in the face again."

“That was lucky,” you say. “He wasn’t trying to murder me, either. There’s probably an American hitman on his way right now to take us all out and make it look like an accident.” 

“He would definitely hire locally,” Jungwoo corrects you. 

“And here I thought you were braver than that,” Doyoung muses. “Do you think we need his permission? You certainly don't.”

That makes you pause. You look at Jaehyun. Of all the people in the world he was the closest to their former leader. They’d fought even more than he and you had, and Jaehyun had always conceded, taking it on the chin, letting Johnny drag him along in his wake. The one time he'd stood up to him had been for you and it had almost fractured everything irreparably.

His black eyes pierce into you when he looks up. 

“I think y/n can make any decision she wants to,” he says dangerously. “None of us will stand in your way, whatever you choose.” 

“You promise?” you ask, tilting your head to let your wet hair brush over your bare shoulder. 

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Jungwoo says. 

You wait for the others to show visual signs of concession: Jaehyun nodding, Doyoung making the sign of the cross in what is an obvious misuse of the gesture. 

“Good. Because if Johnny finds out what I’m doing on this trip, he’s not the only one who will kill you.”

"I think we should start enacting a punishment whenever she brings him up again," Doyoung says.

"Great idea," Jungwoo says, sweeping you into his wet hold from behind. The chill you'd been feeling exposed to the air dissipates a little, his warm chest against your bare shoulders. You shiver a little at the intimacy, feeling him laugh even if he doesn’t make a sound.

“What will it be?” Doyoung defers to Jaehyun.

He leans back . “She does something to distract herself.”

You purse your lips together, affecting an air of deep thought. "My choice?"

"Always," he says, not breaking eye contact. 

"Rock, paper, scissors, then." You nod at him. He grins, Doyoung groans. Jungwoo's long arms wrap around your waist, hands already in position. 

"Surely there's a better way we could eliminate your options," Doyoung says, almost missing the cue and throwing paper to the other two's scissors. 

"Better luck next time," you tease.

"Kiss it for luck." The back of Jungwoo's hand presses to your mouth moments before Jaehyun initiates. 

Jungwoo loses the second quick round after a draw, crushed by Jaehyun's rock. 

"I should have known you were cursed." Jungwoo pouts, not letting you free until you've ducked back into the water to escape him. You give him a wink as you swim towards the stairs, emerging between Jaehyun's spread legs before he can close them. 

"What are you doing?" he asks, warily, still leaned back against the last stair.

"What I want," you say, blinking drops from your lashes. You move weightlessly on to his thighs, grabbing his soft face in your hands. He's unable to process what's happening quickly enough to respond as you tilt his face up and press a gentle kiss to his parted mouth. 

You ignore Jungwoo's wolf-whistle in the background, partially aware Doyoung has shifted nearby the moment you'd slid into your friend's lap. All that is noise as the gentle sound of the water feature drowns the startled sound you make when you're grabbed and pulled back to Jaehyun's mouth. 

This time it's real: solid and delicious as he crushes against you, tongue sliding across the seam of your lips until you let go of your held breath to softly exhale into his. Small dips of his chin coax you into opening for him, your hands threading into his hair to anticipate his movements as he kisses you like it's the last time in his life he'll ever get the chance. 

"That's enough," Doyoung says, Jungwoo booing him. 

The other two may as well not exist, your thumbs circling Jaehyun's cheekbones as you retreat to inspect the damage. He's usually so composed it feels like peering into a different universe's version of him, rapture and satisfaction warring with concern in his expression. 

"Thank you," you whisper. His eyes focus again, teeth exposed as he tongues them. 

"Any time," he says. It's funny how instantly he regrets the word choice, the pink in his ears and cheeks deepening.

"Not thinking about you-know-who now, are you?" Jungwoo asks, right behind you. 

"No," you say. "But I suspect you wish I'd say yes if only for the consequences."

"That was hot," he admits. "But I don't typically like my prospects thinking about other men." 

"Can I tell you a secret?" You crook your finger, clutching on to Jungwoo's wet patterned shirt when he leans down far enough to be in range. 

"I only made you play for it so we could find out who goes first." You say it in his ear, letting your mouth drag against the shell.

He pulls back, hesitant, nose brushing against your cheek. 

"Really?" 

"Kiss me and find out," you offer. 

He doesn't wait, lashes against his cheeks as he meets you halfway, tilting your head to the side for full exploration of your lips. He's much gentler than you expected, shy almost, tender even when your tongue meets his and you can taste the hint of sticky mango rice you'd had for dessert earlier. 

"Good boy," you say once you've broken free. He smiles in the way you're used to the most, right side of his face crooking with an edge of deviousness.

You turn to find Jaehyun watching, eyes starry with arousal but unreadable. Doyoung is on his feet as if he's preparing his exit, expression stony. 

"Is something wrong?" you ask, meeting his calculating stare.

Doyoung opens and shuts his mouth, water pooling at his feet. 

"Not enough punishment for you?" There's an edge to your voice that you recognize as the tone you'd used many times before, in your idiotic quest to tame one of his own. 

The tension breaks when Doyoung laughs softly, crouching down and crooking his finger. You wade up the steps to meet him, hyper aware of the drag of eyes on you as you emerge from the water, dress clinging to your skin. 

"I planned out such a nice trip for you, and this is what you really want?" Doyoung asks, eyes traveling down your body and back to your face in the kind of assessment that you'd seen other people wither under. 

"Why do you think I agreed to come?"

“Noted.”

He nods, slightly, but makes no move to take what you'd already given the others. You don't let it dissuade you, fingers digging into the hard line of his shoulders to press your lips to his. 

It's like kissing a statue. A challenge you're willing to meet as you delve further, rocking him back on his heels. You pry open his mouth with gentle bites and licks between each kiss, past his perfect teeth until you can explore his tongue with your own. You don't realize your hands are fisted in his wet hair until you're done, finding him collapsed on the wet cement, panting. 

"Was that sufficient punishment?" you ask.

"For you? Absolutely not," Doyoung says, the rare full smile gracing his kiss-swollen mouth. "For them? Yes."

You glance back at your other two companions, clocking that they're both nearer than you remembered. Jaehyun's hand drifts over your hip, as if he's questioning letting you go in the first place. 

"Should we set some rules? Or are you all going to take them as an excuse to break them?"

Jungwoo chuckles. 

"No competition. Equal time, equal attention. And no possessiveness," you state. Doyoung looks up from under his brows with amusement, clearly enjoying your groundless attempt to set boundaries. 

"I don't care what you throw at me as long as you don't walk back what you said about our friendship."

"I think we're something different now," Jaehyun says, voice cracking.

"I know," you say. You run a hand over his head, feeling his temple come to rest against your waist. "But you crossed that line first. I'm just saving you the trouble of playing some silly game to come on to me. I'm not a prize to win. I'm a person who knows you all better than you think."

You turn to Doyoung again, holding your ground. "You said you'd give me the true F4 experience."

"Within reason," he demures. 

"Then lose your hangups and let me have a taste of what it's like to be just one of those girls you have no problem with having fun with. No special treatment, no regrets."

The stunned silence has you feeling a twinge of embarrassment at pushing your agenda this far.

"Impossible," Jungwoo answers. 

"Why not?"

He pulls the hair away from your neck to kiss beneath your ear. Gooseflesh appears on your arms even in the warm air, anticipating his answer, but he's too occupied with trailing his mouth down, sucking lightly over your pulse. You feel dizzy, hand reaching back to hold his head to you.

Once he's had enough of watching you unravel Doyoung jerks you forward, grip tight around your wrist.

It's a familiar gesture, a reminder you are at their mercy. He cuffs his hand around your neck like he's going in for another kiss, stopping at a few inches. 

"You don't get to set all the rules. This one especially. You are not just some girl with whom we engage in forgettable, inconsequential relations."

He pauses, eyes darting to your mouth before meeting yours again. "If we go down this path you're getting the real thing. All of it."

"We know you have experience." Jungwoo adds. 

Oh you knew. They fucked around but they were careful about it, always gentlemen, always above board. NDAs in some cases, mostly for Doyoung. You didn’t know all of their specific proclivities outside of Jungwoo exclusively chasing women a generation older but you suspected whatever they enjoyed was much less wholesome. 

Like Johnny's needs once he'd finally had you. He'd bent that way and much, much more. The difference was he'd never been as precious with you as they were with their little conquests.

If they didn't want the safety of a legal cushion it didn't mean they didn't need it–they just didn't think it would be a problem.

"I'm sure you've heard a lot of things about me," you say. A whisper of rage underlies the words, colored by so many rumors foisted on you well before you'd ever accepted their company–even more when they had. 

Whore. Cockslut. Used goods.

Johnny had always been a contradiction–surprisingly prudish about sex but quick to use the grossest allusions to it when pressed for details by his friends, liberal in his name calling. They'd known him since childhood–they didn't believe him, even if everyone else had taken his words as gospel. You'd had your revenge by proving just how true those words could be in private.

"We don't know anything you don't," Jaehyun says, quickly. 

"Still, I don't think you know what you're signing up for," you say. "If anyone is using anyone in this arrangement, it's going to be me. Or I'm out."

"You worried we can't show you a good time?" Jungwoo asks. It's a funny question with him pressed into your back like he'll push your head down into the water if you answer incorrectly.

"I'm worried you'll chicken out," you say, grabbing Doyoung's wrist to keep his fingers on you, covering them with yours to increase the tension. You'd always been strong.

Doyoung's expression is matched by his lingering hold on your throat, squeezing a little and making your eyes drift shut in pleasure.

"You always did seem to enjoy the humiliation a little more than our other targets. Can't say it wasn't an encouraging factor. You like it, don't you?"

He lets you go with a slight push, registering the way your eyes haze over with reflected lust.

"Yeah. Blame a few formative years of getting my signals crossed. Just part of the damage." There's no shame in your voice, another casualty of their efforts.

"You're not damaged," Jaehyun remarks.

"Not beyond repair," you agree, gaze burning into Doyoung's. His regard is a thousand times more revealing than a kiss, most especially the tic in his cheek every time Jungwoo decides to leave a mark with his tongue and teeth on your throat and you reward him with a moan.

"Should be fun seeing which one of us can push past your comfort zone, then," Jungwoo says, breath cooling the last bruise he's left on the back of your neck. "Find out if you have one."

"You're not dropping the competition?" 

Nervous anticipation gives you butterflies, different than the ones springing up being teased by the three of them. Not one of them accepted being outclassed.

"No." Jaehyun says it well before the others. His hands drop to your legs to hold you steady as Jungwoo continues his assault on your neck. "But equal opportunity. I think we can all agree on that."

"Don't worry, we'll play fair," Jungwoo says, biting your shoulder. You jerk in his grasp, vaguely aware of fingers at your hem. Doyoung continues to watch, tongue darting over his lips.

"I hope not," you say. "I won't."

It's all the permission your captors need.

Your breath stutters as Jaehyun's hand slides up your inner thigh, circling the wet skin absent-mindedly. You whine a little, teased by the first intimate touch you've had in months.

"You better stay quiet. We do have neighbors," Doyoung says, voice pitched low.

"Think you can shut me up?"

He takes the hint, sliding his legs back over the ledge, letting you finish unbuttoning his shirt to expose his creamy skin. You spread your fingers over his firm abdomen, flicking aside the sheer fabric. He's intoxicatingly sensitive, muscles tensing as you follow the path of water down his long waist.

"You sure you want to play this game?" Doyoung asks, hand resting on your shaking fingers as you struggle to unbutton his damp jeans.

You look down at Jaehyun, smiling at him when you find he's still enraptured by your upper thighs. You wait until he looks back up, head cocked for permission.

"You alright with sharing me, tonight?"

Miles are crossed, bridges are burned as he contemplates the ask, returning to his shy efforts at warming your naked skin, lifting your hem to dangerous territory.

"Wouldn't dare stand in your way."

Jaehyun's approval is the best thing you've seen in a long time, even more so when he adjusts to be eye level with your now exposed underwear, back pressed to Doyoung's leg. 

Jungwoo tugs at the strap of your dress playfully. 

"Can puppy wait his turn?" you ask, looking up at your other torturer. 

Jungwoo kisses you over your shoulder, messily, before casually breaking one of the thin straps of your dress where it's attached to the delicate gold cherub adornment. The night air pebbles your skin, exposed nipple hardening more as he trails a fingertip lazily around it.

"As long as you need." 

He angles you down a bit towards the other man, just as Jaehyun's mouth finds you through the thin fabric of your lingerie–hot and perfect. Your knees are already weak and you have to catch yourself on Doyoung's thighs as you're touched and kissed and licked, still partially submerged and torn between warm and warmer.

There's a bit of menace in Doyoung's face, watching you unzip and find his length. He adjusts a little when you tug down the elastic waistband of his underwear, his cock already mostly erect despite the water. He's not as big as Johnny but perfectly sized, long and veined as he hardens in your hand. 

You experiment with laves of your tongue against his flushed head, watching him for a reaction through your lashes.

"Sucking me off before I can even take you on a proper date." He tsks, the sound changing when you lower your head, tongue folding around his tip to devour him whole. 

"You look so good with my cock in your mouth," he says. "Wish I could take a picture–"

You cut him short by taking him deeper, feeling him press at the back of your mouth. It's been awhile since you tested your gag reflex.

Thankfully Jaehyun has compromised on watching you while pushing your underwear into your sticky folds, Jungwoo playing with your breasts in the most maddening way possible with soft flicks and tugs. 

Both of them are sending you skyrocketing to a level of joy yet unexperienced this lifetime, much less this year. You have to concentrate on Doyoung to keep from falling apart too quickly.

Jungwoo's long fingers help clear your hair from your face so you can breathe, giving them all a better view as you choke, letting drool slip from your mouth as you take it deep and hard. 

The noises coming from your throat are nowhere near as obscene as the sounds Doyoung makes, angled back and thrusting weakly with each moan. You always thought his voice was beautiful, scratchy and breathy, but hearing him say your name in between gasps has your entire body enflamed. 

"Fuck, you're good," Doyoung says quietly, angled back on his elbows. 

Jungwoo holds your damp hair back, wrapping it in his fist to help guide you more gently. You relax your throat and take it, tears leaking from your eyes. If touch had you vibrating before, the sensation of being debased in this way has you dripping, your arousal exposed by Jaehyun's fingers slipping your panties down to the water.

"She's soaked," he says, running a single finger through your folds. You answer with a groan, other hand in his hair to hold him back before he can dip in again.

Jungwoo tests you, too, giving you a few swipes to collect your slick. He brings his fingertips to your mouth when you finally take a breath, letting you clean them.

It's delightful how Doyoung is unraveling already, arched back, eyes glassy. He drinks in the sight of you sucking two of Jungwoo's fingers until your cheeks hollow.

"You think you can finish what you started?" you ask.

"I don't think I'll ever want it to end," he admits.

"How about coming on my tongue?" You ask, pumping him slowly. You chase the taste of yourself with kitten licks of the beads of white on his head, going lower to trace his veins. 

"Only if you want to swallow everyone tonight," Doyoung says. The offer is tempting. You hesitate long enough that he reads you like an open book, adding an edge of threat. "Or do you want to be stuffed like the little whore you are?"

The affectation has you seizing up in long-withheld gratification. Jungwoo grinds against your ass as Jaehyun ignores your hold to finally lick long paths up your inner thighs, chasing trails of slippery arousal and water to dive in, fingers spreading your legs wide.

It's impossible to find a retort, sinking back into Jungwoo's embrace as you're attacked from below.

"I think you should only fuck me if you can make me come," you counter. "And it's still Jaehyun's turn–"

Your words are punctuated by a cry, Jungwoo's hand clapped over your mouth as Jaehyun pumps into you with two fingers, hooking into your g-spot.

"Ooh," Jungwoo says over your head. "Guess you'll have to wait." 

Doyoung sighs, taking over with his hand when you're bodily dragged back, Jungwoo lifting your dress to take it off. 

"Leave it on," Doyoung says. "The ravaged look suits her." 

You shoot him a look, unable to maintain your expression when Jaehyun's mouth works likes he's devouring you in turn, teeth scraping as he explores every inch of you, teasing your clit with darts of his tongue. Jungwoo frees your mouth to let you breathe, babbled words of praise spilling from you in between small cries.

"So good, so right, god, fuck–fuck." You're inarticulate as Jaehyun pumps his fingers slowly, spreading you and pressing right below his languid tongueing. Jungwoo's attention returns to your sensitive breasts, gently twisting each bud between his fingertips. 

"Keep it down," Doyoung warns, but it's impossible. 

Electric tingles spread down to your toes, tipped against the smooth pool floor. You let yourself relax in Jungwoo's hold, curling over your lover's head. Jaehyun is incredibly careful with you even as you're brought deeper, water lapping at his collarbones as he holds you spread and licks you in broad swaths. 

"Need a hand?" Jungwoo asks, somehow catching Jaehyun's nod mid-effort. You're unmoored by the hand that slips in from behind, fingers curling into you shallowly, water lapping your immersed buttocks. Jaehyun gives up control but he's still also buried in you, drawing wetness out of you with each stroke of his fingers.

Jungwoo matches his speed, knuckle to knuckle, as Jaehyun moves up to apply pressure to your clit again. 

"You two can get her ready. I want her after she's been used," Jungwoo says. 

"Of course you do," Doyoung says, dropping back in the water, demanding your attention. You indulge him with your hand, pumping him loosely beneath the surface. It's hard to coordinate as Jungwoo's hand fucks you into the pressure of Jaehyun's grip tight on your upper thighs, each circle of his tongue on your clit making your vision shimmer. 

"She's so close. Bet we can make her squirt." 

"No," you say, automatically self-conscious. 

"Did you hear that? She thinks she has a choice." The heel of Jungwoo's palm smacks wetly against your ass as he finger-fucks you, already too much before Jaehyun seems to pull you towards him, pressing hard into your walls. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, completely at their mercy as Jaehyun applies suction to your clit to bring you to the brink. 

"Come for us," Doyoung says. He's pressed to your side, rutting against your waist while taking your mouth to keep the shriek building inside your throat muffled.

There's no controlling the powerful waves tearing through your core, your legs shaking and buckling as the orgasm begins and doesn't seem to end, torn from you between all three of them. A hot gush of liquid coats your thighs as you throb around their fingers, pleasure morphing into pain until you're begging for them to stop. 

Jaehyun is the first to let you go, rising to share your release with a crushing kiss that takes your breath away, Jungwoo's fingers still reaching deep inside you.

"Good girl," Jungwoo says. "Was that your first time?"

You nod, cheeks hot, forehead pressed to Jaehyun's. You cling to him, still not quite down to earth from your climax. 

"Thank you," Jaehyun says, laughing slightly. "Was that too intense?"

"No," you shake your head. "Just hold me, please."

"Forever," he says, lifting you to straddle his hips. He manages the stairs to collapse on the deck, wrapping you tight in his arms as you kiss him deeply, cleaning his face of your release with gentle swipes of your fingers.

"You sure you don't want to go inside?" he asks, when you begin to unwrap him from his shirt. 

"I need you so much," you say. "I can't wait another moment."

He grins, shyly, kissing you as you help him out of his undershirt to reveal his swimmer's frame, triangular torso buckling into visible abdominal muscles. He's breath-taking, even more beautiful when you help him out of his pants and underwear to find his thighs flexed beneath his hard cock, shorter but thicker and so perfectly full and ready for you to sink down on. 

He doesn't question taking you raw–brow furrowing in concentration as you adjust to his girth slowly.

"We'll do this without an audience soon," you whisper, hoping he can still hear you as he bottoms out in your heat and his eyes flutter shut. 

"Yeah," he says, breathily. He's not moving, soaking in the sensation of having you completely wrapped around him. "I couldn't wait, either. You feel just as perfect as I imagined."

"So good," you assure him, moving for him. The lingering effects of coming harder than you think you ever have in your life aren't stopping you from bearing down on him, taking him harder and deeper with his wide shoulders for leverage. 

"Fuck, baby," Jaehyun growls. "I'm not gonna last like this."

He takes control with a firm grasp on your waist, pumping up into you. Soon he's bouncing you mercilessly into his hips, laid back on his wet clothes.

You haven't forgotten about the other two men, not when Doyoung's kneeled behind you, straddling Jaehyun's legs to stroke himself against the swell of your ass. 

Jungwoo grabs your hand to wrap around his own exposed cock, letting you feel him before you can even take in the sight of him bobbing over your head. Your finger and thumb can barely connect around his shaft, length too much to fit half of it in your mouth before you know it will be in your throat. Now you understand why the screams you'd heard from his room always sounded on the borderline of pain. 

"Too much for you?" He asks, angling the velvety soft head to catch on your open lips. Jaehyun slows down his thrusts to let you ease into taking the other man, pumping Jungwoo's base as best as you can as you sloppily accept the suffocation.

"Must have had a lot of practice getting your throat fucked to take me so well," he says, angling your head to move past the back of your tongue. You can't answer so you squeeze his balls instead, applying just enough pressure with your nails to have him groaning in appreciation. 

You lose your rhythm when you feel spit drip down your back, Doyoung collecting your earlier release from your thighs and mixing it with his saliva to rub his fingers against your puckered hole.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for all of us?" he asks, pressing a digit into the ring of muscle, causing you to choke on the heavy weight in your mouth.  

Jungwoo pulls out, saliva trailing from your lips as he gives you a break to adjust. You press your forehead to the sheer tank separating you from his flat belly as you look over your shoulder.

"I can take it," you say, trying to relax. Doyoung inserts another slender finger, making you clench around him and Jaehyun until the other man is panting. 

"I didn't ask if you could take it. I asked if you were going to be good."

"Fuck me and find out," you taunt. He's not like the others–he denies you anything but the wedge of his fingers into your ass, adding a third to stretch you when you're not loose enough. 

Jaehyun fucks against the intrusion, holding out until you're closer as he twines his fingers with yours and watches you work Jungwoo's oversized cock in your mouth and hand. 

"Knew you were a little slut who wanted to have all her holes stuffed. One of us wasn't enough for you, you had to make us share. I'm the only one who gets to fuck this tight little ass, though."

Doyoung drops another gob of spit on the dimple at the base of your spine, letting it slide over the gape left when he slides out his fingers. You cry out at the first intrusion of his cock into your barely-lubed hole, fighting to stay on top of Jaehyun as he works in with shallow thrusts, inch by agonizing inch.

"Keep forcing me out," Doyoung says. "I'll just fuck you harder." 

As if to prove his point he grabs on to your ruined dress at the back, arching your spine for you and making you take him deeper. The burning pain blurs into delicious aching pleasure–you needed this more than you could have even imagined. Jaehyun grunts inarticulately, palming your breasts and squeezing them in time to the ecstatic shudders rolling through your body as you're filled. 

"Open up for me," Jungwoo says, cock back in your gaping mouth. You let him hold you by the hair to fuck into your mouth, spit and tears mixing to splash on your breasts. 

When they resume their individual efforts you feel yourself being pulled apart by sensation, only able to manage sharp breaths through your nose to keep from drowning as tears leak from your eyes and sobs rip from your throat. 

"No cumming until she creams herself on Jaehyun," Doyoung says, reaching around to press hard into your clit. It's a hard ask with how overstimulated you already are but you can feel your muscles tightening against your will. Doyoung and Jaehyun's uhhs and mms mix in your ears, Jungwoo softly praising you when your jaw relaxes to swallow him despite the rock of your body against the other two. 

"Fuck she's so tight," Jaehyun says. "I don't know if I can wait."

"Wait." Doyoung orders, picking up his pace. "She's close. Make sure she remembers to breathe."

Jungwoo groans, pulling out with a last slap of his head on your tongue, letting you lap at the precum leaking from him. "You two are useless." 

He kneels down beside you, wresting Doyoung's hand away from your sore folds and rubbing soft, tight circles around your nub. It's not the stimulation as much as his mouth on yours, kissing with as much care and intimacy as you'd felt before, that carries you to a peak again.

"Oh fuck," Jaehyun says, lifting you with a last upwards jerk of his hips and spilling inside you. The rush of warm heat is so good you chase it, overworked muscles unable to hold against the sensation and twitching powerfully around both of their cocks buried deep inside you. 

Just as quickly your knees give out, collapsing half on Jaehyun and Jungwoo. Doyoung's shallow movements turn violent as he no longer bothers to keep you locked on Jaehyun, thrusting a few more times into your throbbing heat before emptying himself and pulling out to rub the last few spurts onto your skin.

"Shh," Jungwoo says when you continue to whimper, sniffling from the tears sliding down your cheeks. "You're almost done."

You shake your head half-heartedly, clinging to his shirt. You're dizzy, adrenaline fading and leaving you boneless and blotted out.

"Please. Maybe just a breather?" you beg. "My legs . . ." 

Jaehyun lifts you, and you hiss at the raw pain of your abused knees, grit brushed away by someone else's hands.

"Poor baby." Doyoung says. "Should have done this in bed but you just couldn't wait."

"'S fine," you mumble, swimming in the glow of your last orgasm. "Bed sounds nice."

"Get a towel," Jungwoo says, and Jaehyun rushes to grab one for you. Instead of cleaning or drying you off Jungwoo carries you to the edge of the pool, slipping in and cramming the soft fabric under you as he lets your legs dangle over the edge and into the water.

"What are you doing, puppy?" You manage to ask, holding on to his neck.

"Don't worry. I'll be careful," he says, palming himself between your legs. "Someone want to keep her head up? I need her to watch." 

Jaehyun adjusts to embrace you from behind, spreading your limp legs so they can all see the steady leak of cum from your gaping holes. You hear the telltale click of a picture being taken, distantly aware Doyoung's phone is still–obviously–working.

"What . . . ?" You ask drowsily, acquiescencing to the pull of your dress over your head and off of you. You shiver deeply, warmed by the body heat of the man behind you as the other strips in front of you. 

"You're going to come for us one more time," Jungwoo says, rising out of the water to pump himself at your leaking core. "I'm not letting you go until I can wring every last drop out of you."

"Fuck," you protest, writhing as he pulls you almost off the hard deck and onto his ready length. Jaehyun holds you tight, arm under your breasts as Jungwoo slides into the mess of cum and slick between your thighs. 

"That's right, take it," Jungwoo says, pinning you against Jaehyun. "Breathe, baby." 

"Too much," you sob, finding he's not even fully sheathed when the familiar ache in your belly of being hit too deep whites out your brain. 

"You don't want your puppy?" Jungwoo can barely speak, ramming in deeper with each rock of his hips. "Don't want to be a good mommy and take all of me?" 

Jaehyun is already semi-hard against your back, and you catch Doyoung's approval before he replaces it with a feigned look of disgust, slipping into the water to watch you both. You can see his arm flex, jerking himself underwater, the other holding his phone up. 

"If we'd known you were such a whore we would have fucked you sooner. It looks like you'll need some more breaking in."

You cry out, stretched tight around the thicker root of Jungwoo's cock, letting him wrap your legs over his shoulders for maximum depth. Whatever pain you feel is so merged with the fullness and perfect hit of him against your walls that you don't mind it, you can't help but slip into a dreamy state of bliss. 

"You're doing so well," Jaehyun says into the hair at your temple. "Can't wait to treat you right. Make you come on my tongue again as many times as I can before the sun rises."

"No, no, no," you moan.

Jaehyun pinches your nipple to wake you up, Jungwoo gasping when you manage to clench around him. 

"You both got her pussy first. You should let me take her tonight. Keep her awake by fucking her as soon as she falls asleep." Doyoung threatens, pulling your leg aside to get the best angle of you being impaled and stretched fuller than you'd ever thought you could be. 

"No one's getting her if she doesn't come again," Jungwoo says. He meets your tear-filled gaze, eyes half-lidded. "Is that what you want? To fall asleep on my cock and let me warm you all night until you're ready to fuck me?"

"Please, come for me, puppy," you manage to bite out, touching yourself in earnest to try and fight back. "So big for me, fill me up."

He takes the bait–you're folded in half, legs bent to your chest as he drives in, balls slapping wetly against you. When you're pliant again he readjusts his strokes to press into your upper walls with each rotation of his hips, and for the first time in a long time you realize you're getting close on cock alone. 

Jaehyun seems to feel the change in you, grinding against your back as his hand holds your throat so you can't turn away. The pressure makes you practically feral, crying out for more. 

"Just like that, like that, please please please," you moan over the lap of the water.

"Feel you sucking me in," Jungwoo says, face flushed and sweaty over you, hair dripping water onto your curled belly. "Let go for me so I can come in you so deep you can taste it."

"Yes, yes, please." You buck with the sudden electric tingle of another climax, steady tempo leading you to softer spasms than before. It's fine if you can't tell where you're at or what you're feeling because Jungwoo can, one final snap of his hips dropping you into fucked out darkness. 

When you come to again you're wrapped around him in the pool, gasping at the sensation of his cock still slowly pumping the last of his release into you.

"Trust me," he says, hands under your backside, lowering you into water suspended between the night and the warmth below. 

Doyoung spreads a hand over your breasts, Jaehyun beside him to hold your neck like he's teaching you to float. You let your mouth fall open and your eyes clench shut, tasting pool water before one of them–Doyoung probably, by the sounds--releases thick, white stripes across your tongue. Jaehyun follows suit, cockhead nudging against the underside of your breast as he paints your torso with molten heat. 

"Fuck that was incredible," Jungwoo says, slipping out of you finally so you can sink into the water. You submerge as much as you can to lose the coat of stickiness, until Doyoung decides you're done, pulling you out and against his chest.

"That was . . . a lot," you admit, shaking against him. 

"You did so well." He soothes you with a hand on your head, clearing your hair from your face delicately to press a kiss to your forehead.  The gesture is so at odds with his recent persona that you can't resist burrowing into it, relaxing fully against his naked chest. "Not bad for an initiation."

"I'm one of you, now?" you murmur. 

"Always were," Jaehyun says. He doesn't dare take you from Doyoung but he does lean down to kiss you deeply, hand running broad circles over your spine.

"Just think of all those red cards as an invitation." Jungwoo jokes, sinking down to eye level to caress your cheek. 

You remember scraped knees and busted lips, cafeteria trays dumped on you by entire tables of jealous girls and sycophantic boys. Johnny humiliating you, ordering you to clean his shoe with his tongue when you'd taken the place of your weaker friend who'd spilled on it. 

But you also remember the small moments of acknowledgement–the way Jungwoo had lingered outside your work waiting to get off when you closed to walk you home at night, or how Doyoung had bought out the entire store when you'd used the shitty part-time job as an excuse to duck out of being his date to a formal dinner you had no business being at. 

And most of all, all those hours spent sitting beside Jaehyun in your rooftop retreat, silently appreciating the late afternoon sun turning the city brilliant as you shared one half of a wired headphone.

Maybe having your heart ripped out was worth it, if it meant having this.

"Which one of us do you want to take care of you tonight?" Doyoung asks. 

You smile into his cool skin, melting into the knowledge that you've earned a place very few had shared. You'll enjoy it as long as it can last.

"Play for it."

#nct dojaejung smut #doyoung smut #jaehyun smut #jungwoo smut #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct f4 au #nct dojaejung fic #dojaejung fic #nct fic #nct smut

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Drifting - Mal de Mer

Early morning delights...

Mal de Mer on AO3

NSFW

Snippet:

This morning, though, his focus is purely on her.

Through the windowslats, bars of butterscotch sunlight pour. The ceiling fan cuts slowly through the humid air, redolent of seasalt and their bodies. Behind the carefully-cracked window, Mel can hear the trill of birdsong, and the rustle of palm fronds, and the gentle wash of the waves upon the shore.

Pink is the conch shell sitting on the endtable, a gift from Silco's deep dives. Mauve is the bedspread spilling lazily to the carpet, a soft puddle at the foot of the mattress. Blue is the hue of Silco's good eye, heavy-lidded with the residue of sleep, and a hungry lassitude as he rolls Mel onto her back.

Gold is the paint streaking the canvas on the easel behind him: a portrait awaiting her finishing touches before she has it packed for transit. Gold, like the frame she'll choose in Piltover: matching her wedding band, and attesting to the same. Gold, like the fractaling streak that ignites behind her eyelids, as Silco fans her thighs open to fit himself between them: the fullness of him dipping into her, teasing in and out, then sinking home.

Crying out, Mel thinks: This is how it ends.

In the days afterward, she won't remember her stay at the villa except as a flurry of sketches: the sea, the skies, the sands. And, most of all, the spiky loose-limbed silhouettes, all of which have resolved into a full-color nude on the canvas.

His torso, framed by the parabola of sunset, holds a deep-sea elegance. The lithe contours are etched by the eerie palette of fading twilight. Teals, and indigos, and amethysts:  each color evoked by the subtle interplay of water and shadow. His bare shoulders, caught against the coronal threads of sunlight, like sharp juts of coral. The torso, with its cobra's hood of sinew, tapering into a narrow waist. The hard cut of hipbones, showing the navel and the hair below it, then disappearing into the distorting medium of the sea.

His head is half-turned, the features indistinct: just a hint of aquiline nose, the cutting edge of jaw, and lips parted to bare a glint of teeth.

Greeting, or threat.

The eyes are what complete the piece.

They've been rendered in exacting detail. The right eye, she's captured in all its softness: the blue so vivid, it's like a drop of the ocean. A vibrant green rings the iris, and a band of gray limns the pupil. Sea and storm: fused. The left eye is a bottomless void: the sclera inked black. In the iris: a starburst of blood vessels, red lines spiderwebbing from the center, with an inlay of gold to mimic volcanic flare.

His scars, too, have been rendered patiently. The shadowy left side of his face is a latticework of crisscrossing gouges. In some spots, like the rippled sands on the shore. In others, the cragged rocks of the reef. Each contour is traced out with the precision of a goldbeater's needle. She's overlayed the scars in an impasto of cadmium red and jet black: a tapestry of violence, with a touch of decay.

In sum, it's a creature of myth. Half-submerged, and on the cusp of a choice:

Ascent, or descent.

In her ear, Silco whispers, "Where've you drifted off to?"

Mel's lashes flutter. His body, striped in gold, is a languid arch over hers. One hand, callused, cups her breast. The other, scarred, clasps her wrist loosely between the fingers, trapping it against the sheets. His body flows skin to skin with hers—achingly slow.

Mel, nuzzling underneath his jowl, breathes, "Nowhere."

"Nowhere, hm?"

His tongue whorls in the hollow behind her ear. She shivers, arching beneath him. The tip of afternoon, she thinks, is when he's at his best: the ferocity of the night's hunger faded, the frenzy of late evening's appetite yet to come.

The heat, still banked, becomes a thing to be savored.

"I was thinking," she whispers.

"About what?"

His palm, cradling her breast, traps the nipple between forefinger and thumb. He rolls it round and round. Mel's breath catches; she bites her lip.

"About—about you," she manages.

"I should hope so."

"The painting. It needs, mmmh, something."

"Something?"

"To complete it."

He gives her nipple a playful tweak, and she whimpers. His dark chuckle rumbles through her.  "A title, perhaps?"

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #mal de mer #arcane mel #mel medarda #melco #silco x mel

[kylejsugarman]

El Camino because I wanna give you more of an excuse to talk about it :D

never seen | want to see | the worst | bad | whatever | not my thing | good | great | favorite | masterpiece

(the alarms start going off, indicating that i have escaped containment) LISTEN. listen.....im biased as hell. i love jesse, i love the gilliganverse. but i used to just really like "el camino", not love it, and that changed primarily after i took in the gilliganverse as a whole and got a better sense of how Different "el camino" is. it could have been full of fan service, it could have been kinetic and frantic all the way through, it could have contained so many scenes of graphic torture and abuse. but it didnt. "el camino" is all about restraint and absence. it's redolent of the gene scenes from "better call saul" in a way. it's a movie all about things not being there anymore. the flashbacks are all to people who are now dead (walt, mike, jane, todd), the movie is littered with haunted houses (that shot of saul's now empty and abandoned office), the dialogue is limited to the bare essentials. there's a lot of silence. there's countless shots of the vast, empty desert. and that's what's so beautiful about it. that space is the movie being allowed to breathe, allowed to grieve everything that jesse has lost in a way that is respectful and careful. there's no quick healing from what he's been thru and the film respects that. but there's also hope in that space and silence. there's room for jesse's new life. we see some of the foundational pieces of what it could be, but not it being built because nothing the movie could show us would be as effective as the space it will occupy. the horizon of haines is limitless, unending. jesse has all the room in the world to create something new and start filling those voids.

#anonymous #ask #syd squeaks #ask meme #have u seen el camino. will u see el camino. when will u see el camino

[maskedguy7]

•Outside the window•

That night, the sky had decided to hide its precious heavenly bodies, ruthlessly abandoning humankind to a pitch-black void. Not even the rain clouds were visible, but the sound of their cry was proof of their existence. The Earth looked like a post-apocalyptic planet - desolate yet extremely peaceful.

I was in my parlor, lying on the couch and wrapped in my trusty red blanket to fight the cold air of winter. The dim light of the television illuminated the room, generating a cozy atmosphere. Unlike many people, I liked to be engulfed in darkness. It didn't scare me - quite the opposite, in fact; it relaxed me.

I was watching a thriller movie. The plot was interesting but, in my humble opinion, the pace was a bit slow; many scenes were superfluous, and they could have been removed without damaging the final result. Despite that, the soundtracks, the special effects and, most importantly, the acting pleasantly enriched the movie. Overall, it was really enjoyable.

When the credits appeared on the screen, I turned off the television. Darkness invaded the living room, but just as fast as it arrived, it went away when I turned on my phone. The light blinded me for a few seconds, but my eyes adjusted rather rapidly.

Once I was able to see again, I noticed a text message that I had received some minutes earlier from an unknown number; it just said "Hey.", nothing more, nothing less. Confused by the situation, I typed a reply.

"Hello, who is this?"

As soon as I sent the message, the stranger got online and texted me back.

"Who I am is not important; you don't know me anyway."

I furrowed my brows; I was perplexed. After reflecting for a while, I came to the conclusion that someone had decided to play a joke on me. It was the only reasonable explanation.

"Then how did you get my phone number?"

While I gave the mysterious person some time to answer, I made my way to the upstairs bedroom. I flopped onto the bed and let my body sink into the soft mattress. The sheets were redolent with the scent of lavender; they demanded that I close my eyes. My head emptied and all my worries vanished. I was in a state of total bliss. I would have fallen asleep if my phone hadn't buzzed.

"It was really easy. I can explain it to you, but only if you give me something in exchange. How about the rest of your life, deal?"

At that point, it was obvious that the idiot who was pranking me had no intention of stopping. I was a bit annoyed. I wanted to rest; I didn't like the idea of having to spend the night being ridiculed by a buffoon.

"No. Seriously, who is this? If you don't tell me, I'll go to sleep."

I didn't have to wait long; their response was immediate.

"Are you really that desperate to know?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"Yes."

"Then look outside the window."

I froze. That last text made me anxious, but I tried to stay rational. They were just making fun of me; it was just a twisted but innocent prank. There was no way for them to know where I lived; they were just trying to scare me.

The storm in my mind disappeared when another message arrived. It was a voice message. I reluctantly pressed the play button. It was a man speaking; he had a deep voice.

"Haven't got the courage, darling? Don't worry, it's fine. I guess we will have to meet face to face."

I received a picture next, a picture of a guy wearing a mask and a black hoodie. He was right outside my house.

I felt like I was about to vomit. I started hyperventilating, my head was spinning. Tears clouded my eyes, I was violently shaking. Panic-stricken, I tried to call 911 but, for some reason, as soon as I typed in the number, my phone shut off.

As I was desperately trying to turn it back on, I heard someone unlock the front door.

#maskeddude #mask kink #masked #mask #masked men #masked man #x reader #gn reader #reader insert #short story #original story #sexy content #+18 or +adult only #+18 blog #+18 only #+18 content #reader pov #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #male x reader

[zaynnaz]

Bleach One-shot fanfiction.

Title: Rukia the Visored: Hollow Resonance

Rukia Kuchiki sat alone, her back pressed against the jagged wall of her cell in Hueco Mundo. The enclosure felt less like a room and more like the innards of some great, malevolent beast. Its walls had the texture and hue of aged bone, as if calcified over centuries of neglect and malice. The air was stale, redolent with the putrid odor of decay, each breath she took tinged with the taste of something foul.

“I can’t believe Captain Aizen is a traitor. If I remain here much longer, all could be lost," she thought, her eyes narrowed in quiet darkness.

Her eyes squinted as she tried to see beyond the shadowy darkness, but it was a futile endeavor. It was as if the air itself had swallowed all light, leaving only an oppressive void in its place. She clenched her fists, the raw energy of the Hogyoku deep within her a pulsing reminder of her imprisonment. Aizen had taken her for this cursed gemstone, embedded irrevocably into her soul, yet his experiments had failed to extract it.

Her thoughts were shattered by a sound—an echoing roar that seemed to resonate from the bowels of Hueco Mundo. It sounded both distant and uncomfortably close, as if the very walls were channeling it toward her. Her heart pounded in her chest as her eyes darted around, widening when they focused on the creature that had just materialized through the bars of her cell.

It was a Hollow, yet incomplete. Its facial features were twisted in a grotesque mockery of human and Hollow traits, its signature mask missing. Its eyes, however, were not filled with the mindless rage typical of its kin. Instead, they regarded her with what could only be described as curiosity.

"Who—or what—are you?" Rukia questioned cautiously.

"Is this one of Aizen's failed experiments?" she wondered, gripping her makeshift shiv—a shard of bone she’d managed to pry loose from the wall. But before she could make any defensive moves, the Hollow lunged.

As it made contact with her, Rukia felt a maelstrom of reiatsu engulf her. The sensation was electric, her skin tingling as if struck by lightning. She screamed, not just from the sensation but from the soul-deep agony that came with it. It was as if the creature was trying to fuse with her very essence, to burrow into the core of her being.

Rukia screamed, "What is happening to me?!"

For a heart-stopping moment, Rukia felt her control slip away. A white, skeletal mask began to form over her face, its touch cold and foreign against her skin. She could hear the Hollow's guttural laughter intertwining with her own thoughts, a corrosive symphony that sought to shatter her will.

"Hold on, Rukia. Hold on!" she mentally commanded herself.

But then something remarkable happened—the fusion, instead of consuming her, stabilized. Her scream reached a crescendo and her spiritual pressure surged, a torrent of raw energy that expelled outward like a shockwave. The white mask cracked, then shattered into a spray of ethereal fragments, vanishing before they touched the ground.

Rukia staggered back, gasping for air as she felt her spiritual pressure stabilize. "I don't know what you were, but it looks like you've become a part of me now."

Rukia slumped to her knees, the hollow was gone, its essence now a part of her, contained by the resilience of her soul. But she knew something fundamental within her had changed, something that could alter the very fabric of the war to come.

In the quiet that followed, tinged only by the distant echoes of Hueco Mundo, Rukia allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the rapid thumping of her heart, and closed her eyes.

She was different now—changed in a way she didn't yet understand. And although she was still confined within these walls, Rukia Kuchiki felt an ember of newfound hope flicker to life within her.

That hope, tinged with the icy cool of her newfound power, would soon be tested in battles she could scarcely imagine. But for now, it was enough. And as the darkness of her cell seemed to lighten just a fraction, Rukia knew she was ready for whatever came next.

The oppressive atmosphere of Hueco Mundo seemed to weigh heavier with each step as Ichigo, Renji, and the others advanced through its labyrinthine corridors. The air was thick with tension, their senses heightened by the adrenaline of their mission—to rescue Rukia Kuchiki.

When they finally arrived at her cell, a sensation of both relief and urgency flooded them. There she was, standing by the bars, seemingly unharmed but visibly different, as though carrying a secret weight.

Just as Renji reached to unlock the cell with his Zanpakuto, an ominous spiritual pressure filled the space, growing thicker with each passing second. Materializing from the shadows with a disdainful smirk, an Arrancar appeared. His blade was already drawn, its gleaming surface reflecting the eerie light of Hueco Mundo.

"Rukia, step back!" Renji bellowed, releasing his Zanpakuto. "Roar Zabimaru!"

But before the chains of Zabimaru could lunge, Rukia’s eyes flashed—a piercing cobalt that cut through the darkness. Her spiritual pressure erupted like a geyser, filling the air with a chilling, electrifying energy. A collective gasp spread through the group as a Hollow mask began to form over half of her face, its visage a ghastly blend of skeletal grimace and icy design.

Gone was the frail prisoner they had come to rescue. Standing before them was a warrior changed, her reiatsu now a chaotic vortex that fused Soul Reaper and Hollow essences.

With a swiftness that defied her previous limitations, Rukia lunged at the Arrancar. Her Zanpakuto, Sode no Shirayuki, glowed an ethereal blue with black undertones, its blade now enveloped in a dark, icy mist. The Espada met her strike with a clash of steel that reverberated through the room, a cacophony of spiritual energies colliding in mid-air.

In an instant, the atmosphere itself seemed to turn against the Arrancar. The chamber filled with a sudden, biting cold, as Rukia whispered, "Dance, Sode no Shirayuki." A blizzard erupted from her blade, but this was no ordinary storm. It was a tempest infused with Hollow spiritual pressure—a dark, swirling whirlwind that choked the air from the room and dimmed the light to near-total darkness.

The Arrancar struggled, his form becoming a silhouette within the storm, his movements increasingly sluggish. Then, with a final, piercing cry, Rukia thrust her Zanpakuto forward. A jagged spike of black ice, coated in a layer of dark spiritual energy, materialized and shot towards the Espada, impaling him. He was frozen in place, a grim statue in a sea of swirling darkness.

As quickly as it had formed, the mask on Rukia’s face shattered, its pieces dissolving into ethereal motes that vanished into the air. Her spiritual pressure dropped dramatically, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. She staggered back, her body a tangle of exhaustion and relief, and collapsed into Renji's arms, who had rushed forward to catch her.

Ichigo looked at Rukia, his eyes wide with both astonishment and a newfound respect. For the first time, he fully realized they were all evolving in this never-ending war, crossing lines and breaking barriers to face the unknown.

"Rukia... What the hell happened?" Ichigo muttered, his voice tinged with utter shock

Drained but alive, Rukia looked up at her friends, her eyes conveying a complex mixture of gratitude and warning. They had won this battle, but the war was far from over. Yet, one thing was clear—Rukia Kuchiki was no longer just a Soul Reaper. She was something more, something transcendent of Soul Reapers, and fearsome.

And as they prepared to leave, that realization filled them with both dread and wonder for the inevitable battles that lay ahead.

Rukia knew that her newfound abilities were a double-edged sword, filled with immense power but also perilous instability. Intent on gaining control, she found herself transported to the World of the Living, her feet touching down on familiar soil, yet feeling like a stranger in her own life. With each step toward the secret hideout of the Vizards, her mind oscillated between anticipation and apprehension.

"Didn't expect a Kuchiki to show up here," Shinji said, breaking the ice.

"I need your help," Rukia said. "Are you Shinji?"

The atmosphere was heavy when she entered their lair, the room charged with a mix of suspicion and guarded interest. Though the Vizards were used to shades of gray in their own powers, Rukia had told them how she was first afflicted by the hollowfication and how it came to be. Her unique form of Hollowfication intrigued them.

“That bastard must have perfected that crazy ass experiment of his.” Shinji commented, insulting a man he loathed.

“Can you please teach me how to control the hollow power within me? Ichigo told me you would be able to help me.” After a tense discourse marked by veiled questions and carefully chosen words, Shinji, the Vizard leader, nodded.

"We've never seen a case quite like yours, Kuchiki," he said, breaking the silence. "You got our attention. We'll train you."

Rukia's training was nothing short of grueling. Each day was a kaleidoscope of sweat, determination, and spiritual energy, all blurring together in a never-ending cycle of trial and failure. Their underground training ground became her world, a cavernous space that echoed with the sound of clashing Zanpakuto and the reverberating cries of hollowfied Soul Reapers. It was a symphony of chaos, the perfect setting for her to tame the tempest within her.

Donning her Hollow mask during training exercises, Rukia felt the immediate shift in her abilities. Her movements became swifter, each slice of her Zanpakuto leaving a trail of black icy mist in the air. The cold no longer came just from her blade, but from within her, a seamless blend of her own spiritual energy and the frigid powers offered by her Hollow self.

Shinji watched her intently, his eyes narrowing as he observed her rapid progress. Even among the Vizards, few had shown such a natural affinity for harnessing their dual nature. It wasn't just her skill; it was her unwavering focus, her complete dedication to mastering this chaotic fusion of Soul Reaper and Hollow.

"You're getting the hang of it, Rukia," Shinji finally said one day, sheathing his Zanpakuto. "I gotta say, you’re surprising us all."

His words washed over her, a bittersweet blend of accomplishment and ever-looming challenges. Yet, they fueled her, made her feel an inch closer to the elusive mastery she sought.

Rukia knew this was just the beginning. Understanding her powers was an ongoing journey, one fraught with pitfalls and revelations. But as she looked at her reflection in the steel of her Zanpakuto, her Hollow mask materializing and dematerializing as if in sync with her thoughts, she realized something vital—she was not afraid of what she had become. She was ready to wield it, to integrate this newfound duality into the core of who she was.

And in that moment, surrounded by those who had walked this tumultuous path before her, Rukia felt a sense of belonging, an unexpected camaraderie that transcended her former identity. She was not just a Soul Reaper or a Visored; she was Rukia Kuchiki, a warrior evolving beyond labels and limitations.

As she sheathed Sode no Shirayuki, the black icy mist from its blade swirling around her, Rukia knew she was one step closer to understanding the intricate tapestry of her own soul. And that realization imbued her with both humility and a fierce resolve, as she prepared to face whatever lay ahead, masked or unmasked.

As she ended her training for the day, Rukia reflected on her journey. "I know this is just the beginning," she said, almost to herself. "But thank you, Shinji. Thank you all."

"Don’t mention it," Shinji grinned. "We're all walking this tightrope between two worlds. We Visoreds got to have each others backs." Rukia nodded, her eyes set on the path ahead.

—————

Do you want to read more of my work? I post One-shots on my blog and I post ongoing fanfictions on Ao3 and Fanfiction net.

#bleach #fanfiction #anime #fandom #bleach oneshot #bleach au #bleach fandom #bleach fanfiction #bleach rukia #bleach renji #bleach ichigo #oneshot #one shot #what if #ao3 author #ao3 #fanfiction net #writing #hollowfication #visored #hybrid #sode no shirayuki

[ruknowhere]

A REDOLENCE FOR NIMS , O triple sob -- turned forty at midnight -- body at dawn booze-soddened but hopeful, knowing that the only thing to remember is dreams. Dead clear zero, Sunday afternoon in an attic of a closed resort on Lake Michigan with one lone duck riding the diminishing swells of yesterday's storm against the snowy cliffs of North Manitou: Whom are we to love? How many and what for? My heart's gone to sea for years. This is a prayer, plaint, wish, howl of void beneath breastbone. Dreams, soul chasers, bring back my heart alive.

, -JAMES HARRISON

[coco-kyoko]

Ask the Cookies Recap 10: Filling a Void (ongoing(tm))

The current arc of the series.

Owing to how recent this arc is, I’m including a lot of detail. This is because I know stuff’s going to be important.

Leading on immediately from the previous arc... The Marble Lily.

A slight flashback to start. Remember how Miss Void, Cay’s teacher, was visiting Cay? Well, here’s why!

Redolent Void commissioned Cobalt Cookie for a special crystal.

Meanwhile, the rebels are busy.

And they’ve got a new agent...

So, you know, that’s a bit of fun.

Redolent wants to bring Cay into her project. Still wishing to recruit her.

But she’s not the only one with her eyes on Cay...

Cobalt completes her commission! It’s a special crystal...

But she’s getting these weird prank calls that she keeps missing.

Cayenne picks it up, ready to deliver it to Miss Void.

And the secret service appear! I’m actually pretty sure he has no jurisdiction in the Hors-Chaan protectorate.

Spring has been following a rebel cell. They’ve been up to something. A new secret weapon to surpass Metal Gear.

Oh no, it turns out the teacher was evil! And Onyx is her puppet, willing to do anything to get Cay back.

And Redolent is Perilous’ Sister! The family tree expands!

While I’m at it, lets have Spring Serenade do my job and recap stuff.

Basically they manage to sum up in five panels what took me 30. Back in Recap 5. Ah well, at least they’re done stealing my job...

...And then Cobalt steals my job and sums it all up in one panel.

Meanwhile, the ship is getting ready. The power source is in the machine.

But Onyx is getting second thoughts... She turns on her master, hoping to save her beloved.

Onyx is not a hero. Onyx is just a pony who is trying to do good, at the darkest times.

Thinking that Miss Void has killed her friend, Cayenne gets angry. Anger leads to dark magic... And this dark magic is being used to power a cannon!

Oh no! The plan is almost complete!

Cobalt saves the day by destroying the cannon! Now to deal with the rebels and save her cousin!

And they fight, and Cobalt’s barely winning! With a mighty thud, she strikes Miss Void back and...

...And that’s where we are today.

[potassium-pilot]

FFXIVWrite 2023, Prompt 12: Dowdy

Few in Ul'Dah are privileged enough to have a fine house in the city itself, but Redolent Rose counted himself among the few lucky men with the coin. That said, he certainly didn't feel lucky.

As he pried his eyes open after a short night of sleep, he stared up to the ceiling and started his morning routine of questioning the decisions in life that led him to take a job at the Gold Saucer. Godsforsaken Manderville had far too much money- he may as well have come in with a wheelbarrow full of gil when he offered him the position to run the fashion report. For every gil the Guild earned, Manderville paid him five for his position; the Guild certainly wanted not for coin either.

Opportunity strikes and you follow through. That's how you get a house in Ul'Dah, he thought.

From his bed, he rose, wondering what it would be like if he could get more than five hours a night of sleep again and continued on with his routine. He wore his usual weaving outfit, then set to return to the Weavers Guild once again.

In the halls of the Weavers Guild, Redolent Rose stood in his corner and watched over his weavers as they delicately pieced together the lifeblood of the Guild. Behind him approached his most promising apprentice, carrying a package.

"Master Rose", Dia greeted, "I finished the request."

"Ah, excellent. Allow me to inspect it if you would." Redolent took the package, opened it and inspected its contents.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful! Look at the stitching! Flawless! These embellishments are well done, not a thread out of place. You chose a nice silk as well, and a perfect color to boot. Well done, Dia!"

"Thanks! So, who's the lucky customer?"

"You."

"Huh?"

"I've grown weary of having to look at those rags on you, dear."

Dia shot a gaze down at her outfit, a linen smock colored pale blue, white woolen chausses, and a pair of gray thigh boots. "What's wrong with my current duds? They've served me fine."

"You described the problem just there: duds. These are duds. Though functional, Dia, 'tis boring to look at for long. You are an artisan, and you reflect my guild with your outfits. You needed an upgrade, and quick! How can a customer have confidence in their decision to use your services when you wear far worse quality than you would ever give anyone?"

Dia frowned.

"Don't worry, Dia. I'll only charge you for the cost of the labor."

"...I'm the one that did the labor."

"Exactly!" He grinned. "Now put on your new outfit."

Dia rolled her eyes after he gave back the outfit and she walked away. Using the changing room, Dia removed her old outfit and wore instead a Rust Red swallowtail, void blue trousers, and the black weaver's thigh boots given to her by Redolent Rose after she told him the conclusion of Wawarukka and Kokomo's tale.

Once she left the changing room with her freshly woven outfit on her, Redolent plastered a large surprised smile on his large Roegadyn face. "Now that's a weaver!" He walked to Dia and inspected it now that it was on her. "Good thing I gave you your own measurements."

"I should have guessed when you gave me my exact numbers. Pays to try and be more questioning."

"I say your silence, in this case, has done you far more favors. Look at the way it fits! It's like you have shape and curvature all of a sudden." Redolent circled around her. "Not to mention the color choice is stunning for your skin color. Really, you've made excellent decisions."

Redolent clasped his hands together. "This is perfection. You've outdone yourself! Now think of how a customer will feel knowing they're coming to a weaver who knows fashion. I would certainly commission you...if I were a different man, that is."

Dia smiled. "Well, thank you for the materials for a new outfit."

"Of course. Now, off you go."

Dia walked out of the Guild. Redolent normally wouldn't care about what his apprentices wore, but she was a different case. Most of his apprentices didn't destroy the Ultima Weapon and route the XIVth legion. Most of his apprentices didn't enter his guild with sad eyes and guilty souls. How could he say no to her conviction, however? She wanted to improve her weaving, and he would be damned if she didn't provide anything less than top quality for her skill level.

Out went his finest apprentice.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #redolent rose #f elezen wol #fanfiction #literally in the middle of writing this i had the idea to go back up and add the masked rose reference bfhds #this is a bit short i know #i wanted to focus on the long fic today

[sohannabarberaesque]

Poetry Corner

Such is the magic of a northern Minnesota night redolent with an obvious full moon in the heighth of summer:

On the one hand: a mating-season orgy which sees the Hair Bear Bunch at their finest of sheer serendipity, not to mention a few younger bears just coming into their own, discovering that most magic of Nature's gifts issuing forth (and enjoying such without fear of embarrassment).

Followed on the dawn with a diving session in the lake whence bivouac has been made, and feeling ever more refreshed and then some.

On the other: a cabin serving as the diving camp for Loopy De Loop, Hokey Wolf and Mildew Wolf over the summer. Not to mention the Divin' Wolf Pups of Bon-Bon and Ding-a-Ling, who are really learning diving stoke and appreciating diving with the best of them.

Which could be imagined to include a moonlight dive when the Luna's brightness permits its glow into the lake's depths for something different in diving.

And you wonder what makes Minnesota's World-Renowned and Far-Famed Ten Thousand Lakes such an attraction Funtastic among Funtastics.

Remember, your comments are always appreciated ... not to mention any offerings of poesy in a Hanna-Barberian mood.

@warnerbrosentertainment @restroom @theweekenddigest @haiyis-dark-void @archive-archives @thylordshipofbutts @themineralyoucrave @princessgalaxy505 @screamingtoosoftly @thebigdingle @warnerbros-blog1 @zodiacfan32 @jellystone-enjoyer @joey-gatorman @warnerbrosent-blog

#hanna barbera #poetry #poesy #free verse #free light verse #ten thousand lakes of minnesota #onlyinmn #full moon #summertime moon #full moon aesthetic #hair bear bunch #bear mating season #ursine sexuality #ursine romance #loopy de loop #bon bon (loopy's nephew) #hokey wolf and ding a ling #midew wolf #diving camp #diving vacation #diving wolves #discover diving #hannabarberaforever

[ochoislas]

UN DEJO PARA NIMS

Triple sollozo... cumplidos cuarenta a medianoche... el cuerpo al alba apesgado de priva pero confiado, sabedor de que lo único digno de recordar son los sueños. Neto nulo cierto, siesta de domingo en el alto de un albergue cerrado del lago Michigan con un único pato sobrenadando menguantes tumbos de la tormenta de ayer contra la riba nevada de Manitou: ¿A quién vamos a amar? ¿A cuántos amaremos? ¿para qué? Mi corazón lleva años en la mar. Esto es un rezo, queja, voto, brama de vacío bajo el esternón. Sueños, acosadores del alma, traed vivo de vuelta a mi corazón.

*

A REDOLENCE FOR NIMS

O triple sob — turned forty at midnight — body at dawn booze-soddened but hopeful, knowing that the only thing to remember is dreams. Dead clear zero, Sunday afternoon in an attic of a closed resort on Lake Michigan with one lone duck riding the diminishing swells of yesterday’s storm against the snowy cliffs of North Manitou: Whom are we to love? How many and what for? My heart’s gone to sea for years. This is a prayer, plaint, wish, howl of void beneath breastbone. Dreams, soul chasers, bring back my heart alive.

Jim Harrison

di-versión©ochoislas

#Jim Harrison #literatura estadounidense #poesía contemporánea #abatimiento #cuarenta #alcohol #memoria #tribulación #di-versiones©ochoislas

[lightdancer1]

A small preview of the upcoming chapter of The Foolish Sister:

"By the authority of the Guardians of the Universe, you are to surrender and follow me."

The man sat at the table, his hands folded in front of him. Outwardly he seemed a strange blend of Nikola Tesla and an ancient Pharaoh in most ways. His feet were a little.....strange and their echo was not at all subtly wrong. His eyes were pools of infinite darkness.

He placed his hands on the table and turned around and stood up and smiled. Hal Jordan froze.

Hal Jordan.

His voice had been human where others had listened to it, if redolent with the unhallowed secrets of things that mortal minds were not meant to know. That fell apart in that moment, as his grin widened.

I know why you're here to arrest me. The Guardians have discovered my involvement in the events surrounding the follies of the Endless. I know you're one of the greatest of your kind, and as bland as that Danvers girl. A personality that is as empty and soulless as anything I've ever encountered. It takes a fear-god to make yourself stand forth.

He shook his head.

But there's one small problem with that, Lantern. You could bring the full weight of the Monitors or the Presence himself from what you call Heaven down to this place, to this moment, and you would not have sufficient power. I will give you one chance to depart from this place.

And then he sat back down.

"So you confess to meddling with one of the Endless?"

The ring shone and he could see something like a cuff forming around his left wrist and sighed. A flick of his wrist and then Hal Jordan, human being found himself stuck on the ground and facing something that moved in an impossible manner, not within the spaces known to men but between them.

Something neither tendril nor pawed hand whose fingers ended in wickedly sharp claws nor pincer nor bladed edge of a tendril that ripped through space placed itself around his neck and hoisted him up. A face, tendrils, mouth-parts like an insect, a howling void in a shape like a mouth with teeth akin to stars, all of this and none of these spoke in a voice that cracked reality with each syllable.

Begone, servant of Oa.

The power moved itself from him and he was kneeling on the ground in paralyzed shock on a street where streetlights and cars had run like liquid or dissolved in steam, where humans had warped and become something other, things of horn and ivory and fur and chitin, howling bedlam things that began to rampage through the streets of Metropolis.

Before him stood a man, a Pharaoh of the old days with eyes that shone with a golden light like twin jewels. In every way he was an impossibly perfect image of humanity as to the species to which the human frame was an eldritch nightmare of the beyond.

I warned you.

Humming a twisted melody like the whining of a cracked flute and the echoing of bass drums the Crawling Chaos formed a cane in his right hand and twirled it as he stepped away. Beyond the paralyzed Hal Jordan the twisted beasts that were once men roared. Toward them flew the new gods of the new era, against creations of something much older.

#the foolish sister #sandman fanfic #nyarlathotep

[endive2]

i want to be whisked away by the trailing, completed thoughts of another, a land expanse that stretches through the thick and thin to offer a solace for souls to wallow, i would like to lose myself to this abyss i believe i would like to offer myself to it were it to finally show itself to me

i think if i managed to grasp the sands of time and hold on to those fragments of redolence, that i might just be able to reproduce slivers of the same

my thoughts have brought a spiraling void, a collapsing star in its calamity a desperate call lingers at the forefront of my mind for my drowning and i fear i have began to have sunk

i pass my time in silence distracted, i must walk

drudging through the seas of life

[sageofthestrange]

🌸!

For all these asks, I'm going to append these resources below for anyone reading so they aren't just lost by all the perfumery terms I'm throwing around. Plus, highly recommend them if you wanna start figuring out more about fragrances and what you may enjoy in one! The science is really something else and is one of the oldest out there, arguably, in terms of cosmetic use in history! \o/

The Perfume Society's Introduction to Fragrance Families

This HUGE chart describing Fragrance families and subfamilies with examples and all kinds of good little notes(it's from the /fa/ board on 4chan; yes, I know. Sometimes, good stuff comes out of that nuclear dumpster fire).

Wikipedia's quick run-down of Olfactorive Families/Terms used in perfumes isn't half bad if you just want a very quick run-down.

Fragntica's Giant Compendium of notes used in all kinds of perfumes to look up and see examples of along with a small description of the note!

OOC. HEHEHEHE. I love giving smells to any type of character with a classically holy association, probably because they contain some of my favourite all time notes I can't get enough of. For this ask, I'll focus on the Shar!Path >:). But I think I can overall cover the scent profiles I'd associate with her from the beginning into becoming Shar's Chosen as she embraces her rightful honour as Dark Justiciar.

Shadowheart's entire character profile screams purples and blacks and blues to me, a very cool type of intensity yet one just as dark as their opposing hot reds and oranges. The start of her journey as an acolyte and aspirant to Shar starts off lighter but nevertheless faithful, before descending into scents that incur the primeval darkness and loss Shar herself incurs, blessed with pain and suffering and the call of the void with sensual embraces of the Goddess' caliginous caress.

It starts off like a wicked promise: Night-blooming jasmine, wafts of burning incense with more light, uplifting notes of black roses. Cypress and Galbanum adds the unmistakably cool edge behind all of her, the moonless night waiting to rise.

When becoming Shar's Chosen, all of that intensity is upp'd twice fold. A true celebrant. Ordained for the dark and the primeval nights of inky black skies of her Lady. VIOLETS, DEEP DEEP VIOLETS are thrown into the mist as it darkens the jasmine, a merge of white sandalwood, musk, tainted by black musks and belladonna, redolent with a worshipper's myrrh and frankincense incense graced with the softest drops of blood on her vestments. You will know the halls you walk within the moment the smell hits your nose, know of her exquisite melancholy and haunting beauty. It's heavy, it's deep, it's dark, it clings and it clings. She's the last vision of grace you see before the shadows fill your mind and your eyes flood with black blood.

#nerimoi #ANSWERED. #OOC. #(violets and black musks... my beloved) #(purple smells fuck so hard) #(like i very much associate SH with heavier dark florals and incense) #(a garden of black roses adjacent to a dark cathedral under a moonless night)

[jjungkooksthighs]

Claws of Carnality | jjk (5)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

 Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf!au, soulmate!au, fantasy!au 

 Rating: 18+ / nsfw

 Word Count: 8.7k we really out here getting longer with every chapter because a bitch is hungry

 Summary: Privation looms lingeringly without your mate of whom hunts for you deep within the wood. In his absence, he still manages to fill the void even if it is only ephemeral. The sun watches while you fall prey to your desirous natures and it is only when the golden orb has begun to drip lower along the sky’s body that it is time for you to then be guided by the hands of other omegeans to prepare you for your mate upon his return even when no one yet knows, beyond you, who has already staked his claim on you. When the call of your alpha announces his incoming arrival through the forest beyond, that’s when you heed his howl and go to welcome him home, but what will you find when you get there?

 Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub! reader, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scent marking, scenting, fingering, begging, praise kink, female masturbation, cunnilingus, breeding/impreg kink, character injury (someone gets hurt, but it isn’t serious)

A/N: My fingers are literally sore from writing so much. This one got pumped out in like a day and I’m honestly a clown because we really out here going from 1.5k with the first chapter all the way to 8.7k for chapter five. I think my hands are still shaking as I write this, but hey, this beast is finally out of the cage of my mind like it wanted to be! Seriously, this one did take some hours of sleep out of me in its need to be written, so please feed my soul and let me know that all this effort was deserving of the lack of sleep in the midst of it being midterm week at my university. 

You guys have been so freaking sweet with your kind messages so far and I really am floored at how everyone seems to be enjoying this story, so please keep that up, y’all! I hope that I did justice to everything that has been written so far and more than anything, I hope to have been able to please you all with this next installment. Now, without further ado, I give to you part five of COC!

 Part 9  Part 8  Part 7 Part 6  Part 4  Part 3  Part 2  Part 1

Feebleness fleetingly finds you under its clutches while it grasps you within the boscage of the woodlands.

 It is commanded by the titillating tendrils of your alpha’s spiced scent and your fingers tug tightly around the fine furs without thought as you stare longingly at the mound of vestments that Jungkook had so torturously left in his wake, a whine releasing itself from the bowels of your body as you try to stand on dangerously debilitated ligaments that are still too weak to bear your weight after the satori that has swayed your entire being.

 Too distracted in the pheromones of him that wrap yearningly around you, you don’t remember to pick up the abandoned silken necklace that your alpha had wantonly pulled off and away from you as your wobbling knees bring you to the forsaken garb he’d peeled so salaciously from his beautiful body.

 Next to it are the shredded, tattered remains of the trousers he’d been wearing and, distantly, you wonder how many pairs he has ruined in the past through the multitudinous shifts he must have gone through as a purebred alpha that must have been so prone to surrender to his wolf and trade his human feet for the paws of his beast.

 Your wolf bays at you to pick both up in the need to keep as much of him near to you as you can and, with embers in your mind burning only for him that are stoked by his redolence, you heed it as your knees buckle when you bend with effort to grab them.

 Belatedly, it occurs to you that your alpha had not brought an alternative change of clothes given the state of his wrecked attire.

 As you slowly run your fingers reminiscently over the destroyed fabric, there’s a thought that pushes at your conscience between a pair of golden irises that flash commandingly at you and through the smoke that hazes your mind, you remember what he’d told you.

 “I expect my mate to be waiting for me before I let every wolf in this fucking compound know that you’re mine when I claim you at the ceremony tonight.”

 The words melt away at your insides in the clear claim that they heat you with and you really can’t help it when you bring both articles that had adorned him close to your chest as you turn to tread through the woodland back from whence you came as your cheeks run hot with realization.

 Your alpha would anticipatedly await you to receive him back from the hunt he was to lead in your honor.

 He wanted you to be there to welcome him over all of the other bitches in the pack and, like the dutifully loyal omega you were meant to be, your mind had already set into its stone that you would later return to the greenwood upon the sun’s setting when all the alphas would rightfully reemerge from the forest’s foliage so that you could greet your own.

 You would do so with open arms that would bear not only your warmly joyous touch, but also the mended clothing he’d damaged to hunt for you that would serve to preserve the modesty that he intended only to show to the pack. Beyond closed doors, you wanted him to shred it all only for you.

 Beyond all of that, though, there’s the searing flame of possession that your wolf finds its rump sat firmly against in the calefaction of the emotion that is ablaze within you and you find that you’re willing to fuel it into a wildfire so that everyone will know that your alpha belongs to you should he wear the restored vestments that you would effortfully stitch back up with the hands that longed to caress and find themselves over his perfect aureate skin.

 These are what have you promptly turn to leave with the flutter of bird’s wings beating against your bosom as you amble along in obliviousness to the pair of lupine eyes that observe you protectively in the distance.

 It is only when you walk so far into the rays of the reaching sun that even your striking silhouette can no longer be beheld by them that their owner whirls around, his ears flicking toward the clang of antlers that must belong to two rearing bucks some ways off and without a moment to lose, he’s gone in the rush of the autumn leaves.

 Lost in the sea of pheromones that wash over you as the spray of them pools around you while you press your nose greedily into his garment, you pay no mind to the mated alphas or betas walking about at the early hour.

 What does demand your attention, however, is the sudden onset of sharp, panging pains that, with every step and breathe you take, sink their teeth deeper within the soft skin of your belly, a whimper caught in the fabric your mouth is held against as a vicious torrent of feverishness has your body temperature begin to lower without the warmth of your alpha as a vicious headache starts to pound against your cranium.

 In the midst of it, your own musk pungently pervades the air only to draw the eyes of unwanted wolves to your sweet smell that is enhanced due to the starting symptoms that have already set your body off in the absence of your alpha that it pines for.

 It is only when you manage to close the door to your chambers behind you, with your alpha’s clothes covetously pressed against your nose as if drunk on his ambrosial taste, that you shirk Jungkook’s furs from your body to throw them on your bed as your wolf yaps insistently to  nest amongst the pelt until the scent clinging to it has rooted itself to your cot so that no part of it has gone unseeded by your alpha.

 Once you’re satisfied with the assortment of dips and ripples of the blackened blanket of pelts that cover your duvet in its entirety, that’s when you lay down to nestle the furs, your baser being demanding that you lather yourself in its savory smell that you wish to soak in until you reek of your alpha.

The soft, downy pelage of the pelt caresses you against your exposed calves so very tenderly and, abruptly, the dress you wear is far too rough as it grazes against your skin in your movements as you quickly divest yourself of it. Somewhere in your maneuvers to take it off, your legs rub against each other only for you to widen both eyes at the sight that greets you.

 There’s slick that all but drips from your sex and it glistens along your thighs in the thick coating that marks you there and you suck in a breath as you ascertain the afflictions your body has been wracked with.

 You’ve just gone into the pre-heat acutely accompanied by a fever that every omega has intermittent interludes of upon finding their alpha.

 As if to remind you of this, a sudden shiver falls over your skin in the frosted frigidity that freezes the air around you in how cold your boudoir has just become under your steadily decreasing internal temperature.

 Without the physical comfort of your alpha, you whine, your fingers finding his garment that you’d thrown on the bed beside his furs to quickly lay it atop your bare bosom, your nipples hardening against the flocculent material that is softer than satin as it brushes against the sensitive buds deliciously.

 You sigh shakily in satisfaction as the cloth along your chest coaxes your skin with its gentle warmth through its fibrous fingers while his furs embrace you as you silently thank your alpha for leaving such giving gifts behind to smoothly soothe you in his absence.

 Your moment of respite is short lived, however, when an edged twinge of a cramp bites low into your abdomen as you grimace in pain, a fresh accretion of your juices finding your folds as you cry out the only name that could ever hope to free you from such sensations.

 “Jungkook,” his name is whispered from your lips, an irrational need setting itself alight within you as the picture of your alpha half nude from the forest flashes provocatively through your mind.

 He’d been so profoundly pulchritudinous under the morning rays and, with those dark eyes and wet mouth that had been so eager to welcome you to him, he’d only allured you more to him between his words of letch that had left you so parched after him. You can still imagine the way his hot tongue had laved at you, can still feel the deep press of his digit that had pushed down wantonly within your own lips as you’d sucked at it like a newborn calf.

 His finger had been so obscenely long while his hands had been so lewdly lined with veins over the bones that bore so much strength and you wonder how those digits would have felt deep within your velvet depths while you ponder what those lustful lips of his would do to you if they found their rightful place along your neck. You cogitate how well his defined, chiseled body would fit against yours while he’d drive his cock without abandon into the silken home of your pussy while he’d utter lascivious indecencies to you born out of lubriciousness for you.

 All of this has your hand sliding down your body without pause, your eyes closing as new need begins to burn hotly within your system in longing for your alpha.

 Your fingers find your neglected bud of nerves while you imagine that it is him that stands before the legs that you spread without hesitation for him as hunger flares behind golden rises that sear cravingly into you. You envision that it is him that commands you to taint yourself this way as you breathe in the igniting incense of him that has the flint of desire smoke profusely with the heat that simmers there as he clouds your mind until there is nothing but him that lingers there.

 “Touch yourself for me, pretty,” his hazily hallucinated voice demands within your mind.

 Helpless to deny him even in your fantasy, you obey in the want to please him even within the imaginary realm your head concocts of him. Your brows pull together in concentration as a ring finger slips between your saturated sex to collect the slick that accumulates there before finding its place atop the neglected bundle of nerves that have been ineffective for years in relieving you of your deep desire that has only ultimately and uncontrollably grown throughout your years without the aid of the alpha that you belonged to.

 Upon the first glide of a middle finger over your clit, you moan, your other hand closing compactly around the bed of furs beneath you as you envision that pink tongue of his darting delectably from his mouth to lick at his lips as he stares raptly at you before uttering,” Come on, my omega. Show me how those tiny fingers try to sate that pretty cunt that only your alpha could ever satisfy,” you imagine that he leans over you to plant two hands on either side of your hips as he sniffs, his eyes rolling back at your musk as he burrs, “Let me see how you’ve tried to give yourself the pleasure that can only be granted by the alpha you were made for, pretty.”

 You shakily sigh in response in the thirst that implores the sustenance of him through another deposit of slick as one finger begins to slowly stroke your clit while your other dips between your generously wetted folds to circle and prod at the hole that woefully weeps its essence in the denial of what it craves most.

 Helpless in the inability to disobey him, one digit breaches your sopping entrance while your other streaks over the bundle of nerves crowning your womanhood in a figure-eight pattern as you throw your head back while imagining that it is his lips that find your neck to leave behind marks that brand you as his.

 “Gods, yes, alpha...please,” You cry out, your digits inadequate next to the ones that have sinfully set your soul alight.

 Your finger sinks easily into your wet sheath as you drive it back and forth before your pace inevitably quickens, your hips pitifully trying to chase the elusive hand of pleasure as they begin to gyrate atop the bed while your other hand latches tighter onto the furs beneath you.

 You envision that the mouth you wish would claim you as his travels torturously down your body until he’s peering edaciously at your glistening sex, the squelching sounds that grow louder in your fastening ministrations only beckoning him further in the drenched deposit of slick that amplifies it.

 You envisage that he brings one plump lip between his teeth as he stares like a starved man at you behind eyes that glint with appetite as he hums, “Mmm, look at that cunt crying for its alpha. You really are desperate for me, aren’t you, pretty?” He lowers himself down to his knees to give you a piercingly hungry glare, “Tell me what you want, my omega, and I may be merciful and give you the release you want so badly. Obey this- obey me -and I will bring you to your end that was only ever mine to give to you, pretty.”

 Your fingers hasten their movements as you bear more force down and over your rapidly engorging clit, the digit that lodges itself needlingly inside you still not enough as you whimper out, “A-ah…please, alpha. I want your mouth on me. Give me your mouth, alpha.”

 The desperation for him flares as you imagine the smirk born of amusement before he descends down to your folds that shine with the sheen of your slick that has made a mess of your thighs and the bed of furs beneath you. You watch as craving of the likes in which you’ve never endured settles heavily across your abdomen only to coil tightly when, with his eyes still locked on yours, his rapturous tongue licks a long, languid stripe across the delicate skin of your inner thigh only to cause you to bite down on your tongue in effort to trap the sound of sin that yearned to escape you in the fervid felicity of that alone.

 You envision your alpha lapping unmercifully at you until the only wetness draped across your thighs is his leftover saliva, your back arching with each flick of his tongue against the sensitive skin as you whine in spite of his teasing.  

 “Is my mouth all that you desire, pretty? I could do so much more to you with my fingers. I could fuck you so well with just my hands,” your alpha muses as one digit prods at your entrance unmercifully in the way that it nudges itself back and forth between the folds of your sex as you gasp out. It’s when he extricates it from you, with your juices still soiling his finger, that he takes it into his mouth as he groans only to have you throw your arm over your face as redness sweeps over your cheeks as you pule.

 Your alpha releases his digit from his mouth with a ‘pop’ as heat winds you up when he urges, “Beg for me, my omega. Only then will I give you more. I want to see how much you need me.”

 The words fall easier than the waters from a river as you visualize him smirking knowingly as he dangles your pleasure before you like bait on his hook as you babble, “Want your fingers, too, alpha. I want you to fill me up with them until I’m so full of you that I can’t think anymore. Please, Jungkook.”

 Without warning, two fingers push pleasantly inside you as your mouth parts in an ‘o’ shape while your alpha licks at his lips, entranced in the sight of his fingers disappearing into your sex before he brings them backward only to bury them deeply within you again without prelude. Hot breath is blown over your pussy as he separates his digits in a scissoring motion that has your walls contracting around him as you press your lips together in effort to stifle the sounds he so easily draws out of you.

 It’s when he furls his fingers inside you in a perfect motion to have your toes curling that your body trembles in the sensation, your alpha noticing this as he utters, “Take it, pretty. I know you can. You’re being such an obedient girl for your alpha. I fucking love it.”

 The praise has you preening as you pant and when his tongue flattens over your womanhood to trail tortuously up so that no part of you is left untouched by him, that’s when you keen.

 “Gods, you are so fucking delicious on my tongue. I could do this forever and never tire of your flavor, my omega,” you imagine that he replaces his hand with yours only to cause you to writhe when two fingers circle over your clit unrelentingly while he gives a light, chaste kiss to the innermost part of your left leg before, with lips still coated in your essence, he croons, “Because you’ve been so good in allowing your alpha to taste you, I will give you your reward, yeah?”

 You hardly have time to think on the words he feeds you with before his lips are planted over your vulva, the wet muscle attached to the bottom his mouth sweeping along your slit while his thumb whorls over the bundle of nerves as his nose brushes against your clitoral hood to cause you to cry out.

 “Alpha, please,“ Your voice waters down into a mewl as you envisage that Jungkook, without warning, pushes his tongue so far inside you that your eyes roll to the back of your head with a stuttered sound.

 You envision that you can feel the way he grins knowingly as he watches you fall apart on him, his eyes narrowing heatedly as he plunges the appendage damningly with you as he utters, “That’s right, pretty. Call out the name of the only one who can make you feel this good. Gods, you’re so beautiful all spread out and bare for me just like you were always meant to be. Fuck, pretty.”

 You do as he says, stammering out his name in labored breaths as you imagine that he thrusts his tongue into you without fail as the tip of it perfectly hits the cluster of nerves buried deep within you over and over again. Soon, your walls begin to clench tellingly around him and by this point, your knuckles have gone white with how tight you grasp the furs in the hand that you’re not using to sinfully stimulate all of this.

 When you envisage that it is his fingers that splay possessively over one breast only to fondle it amongst digits that twiddle your nipple between them while he looks at you with a hooded gaze darkened only with the most carnal of desires, that’s when the coil of craving within you constricts as your alpha rasps, “You’re close, aren’t you, pretty? Fuck, when I take you, I can’t even imagine how you’re going to feel around my knot,” the last word has your walls closing threateningly around him as you moan out in the need your wolf bays at to be filled fully and completely by the only cock that you want to impel itself in your silken sheath and in response, he hisses, “What, you like that? You want my knot, pretty? You want to be bred until you’re swollen and round with my pups? Is that it, my omega?”

 You nod, too far gone into your indecent illusion to care anymore as your back bows when he sucks your sex between his lips as you drawl, “Yes, alpha. Please, give it to me.”

 There’s a devastating chuckle between your legs that has you trembling in anticipation and when the digits of his fingers roll your nipple between them as if he’s done this thousands of times before as he pairs it with an especially fatal propulsion of his tongue that strikes your g-spot so piercingly that it has your body convulse dangerously around it.  It is only when you’re squirming that your alpha’s all-consuming irises flash commandingly as he growls, “You’ll get your fucking pups out of me only if you yield to your alpha,” he says with the eternal flames of voracity blazing through golden rises that devour you whole as he eats you like a deprived man while he professes,” Surrender to me, pretty. Submit to me and show me how bad you want your alpha.”

 He pairs this with a catastrophic swipe of his tongue once, twice and three more times before you’re throwing your head back in blissful pleasure as you fall hopelessly apart while you plummet into your end that wracks you to a writhing mess atop soiled furs while your walls flutter fiercely around the two fingers you had unknowingly undulated against in your search for release.

 When you extricate your digits from your body, a string of slick clings to your fingers and, longingly, you wish that it wasn’t your essence on your hand, but instead that of your mate’s.

 Only your labored breaths break the silence that sets in the aftermath of your indecent deeds, your muscles aching from the awakening of new ones that have not been in use before amongst the old that have been afflicted after the strenuous strain that your alpha had wrought on your body.

 It takes a few minutes to come down from your high and your headache is furiously fast in reemerging once the remnants of your climax have faded as you groan in effort to sit up. It is then that you notice the tattered trousers you’d neglected before in the ravenousness that had eaten away at you for your alpha and, with a new resolve that prickles past the prominent pounding of your head, you decide that now would be a good time to mend them so that you will have something to present to your alpha upon his return to the compound.

 You stand on unstable legs that are beginning to become a familiarity to you in the wake of your alpha as you pull Jungkook’s garment over you and are completely content with the way the article of clothing covers your intimate parts as you fold it over your chest to tie it together with a silken cord that had been buried inside.

 Finding your small sewing kit that you’d left abandoned in the corner of your chambers, you situate yourself along the cluster of plush pillows settled along the window seat as you set to work on fixing your alpha’s attire.

 You try to mind your fingers that the needle had left you privy to numerously numbed fingers because of in the midst of the late hours of the night after stitching together the ripped remains of the clothing that the pups under your care would often tear with claws that protracted and retracted in the midst of their growing bodies.

 It is a futile attempt, for the sharp spikes that shoot through your digits inflict themselves in you anyway. Your attention is far too focused not on the article of clothing, but on the one who had worn it.

 You wonder what he might be doing right now and if he’s been thinking about you as profusely-or lewdly, mind you- as you have been about him, your wolf wanting to howl for him to beckon him back as you longingly caress the shredded trousers while you pine for the warmth of his skin and the radiance of his smile.

 Sometime later, there’s an abrupt series of knocks at your door and you smile as you fold your finished work and place it on the table next to your window seat before rising with anticipation that energetically bounds through you.

 It was time for you to be prepared and groomed so that you could be received by the alpha that no one yet knew had already staked his claim on you. Every omega went through this period before their Offering Ceremony to heighten the chances of finding them a suitable mate.

 The door opens and in leaps your best friend, Niva, who was mated last spring as she happily greets, “Y/N! Are you so excited? Your time is finally here, darling!”

 You laugh jovially at her energy as you easily question with mirth, “Good to see you, too, Niva. I am, very much so. Is it just going to be you that has the privilege of getting me ready?”

 She enfolds you in an all-encompassing embrace and you mirror the sentiment, for it is in omegean nature to be close-knit and seek the warm arms of the dynamic that is known for their nurturing, compassionate nature.

 You wrap your arms around her, but upon your best friend getting one whiff of the heavy pheromones soured by sex in every crevasse of the room, her nose wrinkles as her face twists, “Ew, Y/N, did you seriously already get bedded on the day of your ceremony? It stinks in here. Your grandmother is not going to take kindly to this. You’re supposed to be pure, remember?”

 You stand back with a smile lifting at your lips, “I know very well, Niva. Have you considered,” you lift a brow, “that perhaps I am still the virgin you always like to mess with me about being and maybe that there’s an alpha who might have given me his furs so that I could have some kind of relief in his absence?”

 Your best friend’s eyes widen in surprise, but that is soon replaced with a knowing glint of mischievousness in one eye as she takes in the visage of your disheveled appearance amidst the only article of clothing that is entirely too large in how it dwarfs your much smaller body as she queries, “Judging by the smell, whoever it is must be quite an alpha based on how strongly your room reeks of him. Judging by how that excuse for a shirt on you totally swallows you up, he must also be quite muscular and tall. Tell me,” she leans close, “has he touched you yet?”

 Your cheeks turn red as the memories flash like moving pictures through your mind in a tale recounting what had just happened and all that had occurred before and within the greenwood.

 You pull your lip between your teeth thoughtfully before you quietly admit, “In more ways than one, yes. Gods, has it been amazing, Niva. He is so…so attractively alluring in every way.”

 Your best friend holds you close as she watches the emotion color your irises and, seeing that in combination with the way your very voice had lilted with the sentiments, happiness dawns on her as she cards a hand through your hair to declare, “Then I will endeavor to make you irresistible to whoever this alpha is, darling. When I’m done with you, your alpha won’t know what hit him before it’s too late.”

 You blush when she calls in your other two omegean friends of whom carry a large assortment of oils, herbs and soaps before the three disappear into the lavatory through the adjoining antechamber in your boudoir to set to work on readying your bath.

 You busy yourself in the meantime with thoughts filled only with your alpha despite the cacophony of chatter echoing excitedly off of the walls, your attention drawn elsewhere and when Niva comes to retrieve you, that’s when you look away from the window that you’d been trying to squint through in effort to locate your alpha that still hunts for you within the greenwood.

 When you step into the copper basin that is much too large for your smaller body, the waiting waters wrap tenderly around your ailing body as the steam wafts around you in the heat of the fluid that births it. A long, drawn out breath leaves you as your tautened muscles loosen while your friends pour vial after vial of lavender, spruce and rosemary oil over you, the viscous solutions draping themselves over your skin to coax open your pores so that more of your pheromones are released to further attract prospective alphas with your scent.

 Niva takes care to drizzle you in pink salt sold out of the exotic Himalayas that she’d acquired from an especially friendly merchant after being told it had the power to make the skin glow with the might of a goddess. After that, she then spritzes the waters around you with roses, passion flowers and red clover blossoms that decorate the watery landscape around you until its canvas has been painted a magnificent magenta while you’re lathered in the herbal bath, a sigh of satisfaction falling from your lips before your best friend starts her work cleaning your hair.

 Usually, you would purr at the gentle glide of fingers over your scalp, but not today. Today, there’s only one pair of hands that you want on you and they are much too far away for your liking.

 Once the suds of soap have been rinsed from your hair, that’s when you’re left to bask in the warm water that had been drawn especially for you, for each omega has their own variation of scents that they prefer to bedeck themselves with for their Offering Ceremony in effort to lure more alphas through an amplified air of pheromones surrounding them.

 You ruminate on what Jungkook might do once he catches your naturally enhanced aroma that he’s already admitted to liking so much and, for good measure, your fingers find a floating rose and draw its soft petals over your shoulders before rubbing it along your neck.

 When the water has gone cold and you’ve been immensely imbued with the essences of nature, that’s when your friends return to retrieve you from the depths of the basin that you’ve sunken into through your calming contentment.

 Your hair is aired with oaken fans brought all the way from China before they twine and curl it around until it rests artfully in a braided bun along the crest of the back of your head, two twin strands nestled right in front of your ears to petitely frame your face.

 You really wish that you could focus on the gossip that falls freely as leaves from the trees this time of year as they labor over you, but you can’t. Not when your head swims with thoughts only of your alpha.

 Caught as you are in the tides of him that drag you along, you do not feel the bristles of a brush along your eyelids as Niva tips your head back to apply the powdery coloring that will accentuate your brilliant silver orbs before your best friend lines your lids with the blackened stick of kohl.

 Even when a light smattering of the dust of crushed rose petals is painted over your cheeks, you do not look into the mirror, for your eyes are trained on the sliver of sun that begins to wane through the rays that begin to reach backward toward their parent as your wolf bays in expectancy to receive its mate.

 Once Niva is done with her masterpiece, that’s when you’re made to stand and close your eyes before you’re walked over to the mirror that spans from the floor to the ceiling in the corner of your chambers as your other two friends produce the gown your grandmother had had made for you for this very day out of an ornately sealed box that had been left outside your door upon your return from the woods.

 You hear the clicks of the chest that signal its opening, excitement enthusiastically running amok within you when there are three collective gasps behind you as they stare in awe at your gown.

 It is lifted gingerly and delicately in its fragility and your friends help you into it slowly while slightly stiffened organza material skims your skin as it is pulled meticulously up and over your body. Once your arms have been lifted through the hollow holes and the pleated style sleeves rest atop your shoulders, that’s when the laces lining the back of the gown are pulled taut and the bodice constricts around you as you wince at the unyielding tightness that winds around your abdomen.

 Once the ties to your dress have been neatly crossed over each other in a complicated complexity that you will never see, that is the moment that you hear the distinguishing groan of aged wood being opened in the form of another box. The contents within that are unknown to you, but upon the cold, heavy material that encircles your neck, you can surmise that it is a choker meant to conceal the area so untouchable to all but the alpha whose mark you would eventually bear in its stead.

 Your best friend smiles fondly at her finished piece of artwork before stepping to the side to say, “Open your eyes, Y/N. It’s time for you to see how much the moon favors her most adored daughter.”

 You open your eyes in questioning, but before you can turn your attention to your friend, the image in the mirror captures it first as your breath catches at the sight it bestows to you, your jaw falling open in wonderment.

 Your skin all but glows under the gleam of sunlight that tries to tread over your radiance in its dimming dance as irises the color of moonlight piercingly stare back at you from under eyelids speckled with silver like the celestial body amidst the smudges of blended eyeshadow along the sides that beseech boldness in the color that matches the soils of the earth. It is set off by a cat-eye of kohl liner that is dappled thinly along the tips of your lids to demand attention in the way that it contrasts your irises. Even your lips have been streaked with the crimson of a rose to beckon beguilingly in the wish to be looked at.

 Embellishing your neck is a choker made entirely of moonstone that is set between chromium on each side. Its base rests just above your collarbones and, its thickness, it extends about two inches upward to hide away your sensitive scent glands as it covers your skin.

 Below that, though, that’s what really takes your breath away.

 Your gown looks to have been crafted from the threads of the moon’s core in the white of it that adorns your body in its entirety. Layers of gossamer-like fabric compose your dress and set carefully between it all are specks that shine like grayed moondust in the light that glimmers off of them.

 Your bodice is styled in a plunging ‘V’ that hugs your frame and is ceased only by the firm, fitted band that wraps around and hugs your middle well below your breastbone. Tied along its end is a very thin silver cord that twists into a knotted bow before your skirt loosely trails down and out, the train of it cascading like a sea behind and around you. Your arms are bare, but the sheerer and more translucent sleeves trickle over your shoulders and flow about to join the pool of fabric along your feet as you take a shaky breath.

 The woman that stares back at you is one that drips with the waters of clarity in the confidence that she exudes as she stands tall and proud. She is every bit the omega you were always meant to be as she holds her head high, her hands clasped along her front as she angles her head at you to study you and you have to close your parted maw as you stare wondrously back at her, wholly unable to move at the sight of the stranger that has your body in the mirror.

 When the familiar furs of your alpha are lowered over your shoulders, that’s when you look away, your irises finding Niva’s as she coos, “I don’t even think the ancient queen of the wolves could compare to you, darling. I really have outdone myself this time.”

 You stutter, completely in awe of yourself as you tell her, “N-Niva…this is… how did you-“

 Your best friend hushes you with a finger to her lips,” Shhh, that’s a secret, my dear. I cannot divulge my magics lest someone steal them away from me,” she teases as she puts both hands around your shoulders to encourage, “Look at yourself, my darling. You look positively radiant. Those alphas don’t stand a chance.’

 You think that maybe it is all just a trick of your senses and that it is just a hallucination, for you surely can’t actually appear the way that the girl in the mirror does, right?

 You find your visage once again on the mirror in an irrational need to confirm this only to widen your eyes at what greets you, for it is you that peers curiously back at yourself, your hand reaching out to run your fingers down the image of you that is set behind it.

 Your friends step back from you when your hand lowers and you turn to them with joyous tears that threaten to ruin all the work they labored so much from as they quickly fan the air around you in attempt to keep them trapped within your eyes as you laugh, your arms shooting out to welcome them all in a warm embrace that you are sure to thank them incessantly within.

 You enfold them in your arms until the sun’s rays strain to reach you, it’s descent into the night being announced with the raucously reverberating howl from the forest that has your blood singing in the familiarity that it is carried to you with.

 It finds your ears even here and you perk up, your wolf barking in need to go and wait for the alpha that every fiber of your being tells you is near as your best friend looks to you in understanding as she says, “Go on, Y/N. Don’t worry about us.  He’s waiting for you. Go to him.”

 You need no further coaxing as your feet move of their volition, your fingers closing around the mended trousers while you pull the furs your alpha had given to you tight around you, for it was tradition that omegas were not to expose skin before the Offering Ceremony and to be wrapped in an outer covering that preserved their purity until they were ready to shed it upon commencement of the event and acceptance of their alpha.

 The golden disk that once sat high in the sky now has dipped halfway below the horizon, but you need none of its light to locate the alpha that calls you forth as you tread tirelessly on until your nose brings you to the edge of the forest where an old trace of Jungkook still lingers.

 You crouch to leave his fixed clothing by the bark of one aged tree as you walk on, narrowing your eyes as you attempt to see beyond the long line of browned stalks that stretch on as far as the eye can see.

 Anticipation flaps with the fierceness of a black swan within you and when you hear the snap of a branch somewhere off to your left, you enter the thicket’s threshold without hesitation in your baser being’s need to relish in the warmth of your alpha.

 The stench of death thickly layers the air as you wrinkle your nose and as you find yourself standing before the broken limb of the tree, that’s when the dark silhouette of a figure steps out from behind it.

 The sun’s fading rays blind you to whoever you’ve found, but the voice that soon lathers itself all too heavily and viscously over your skin has your hair standing on end as it saccharinely presses, “Were you looking for someone? It’s okay, omega, you can tell me that you were trying to find me and profess your love to me. Everyone else does.”

 You roll your eyes at his vain vanity, “Actually, Taehyung, I was just trying to find my alpha who happens to be nearby and if he finds you here, he’s not going to take too kindly to that.”

 You turn away from the alpha, but Taehyung predatorily stalks after you and before you realize what’s happened, he’s in front of you to halt your movements, a twisted grin marring his features as he sniffs you, a tremor wracking his body as he does that has your blood running cold.

 “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, omega,” he tries to reach for you and you take a step back, not wanting his odor nor his filthy touch to stain you, “See, Jeon won’t be back for some time, sweet thing. He’s still on the mountain hauling back his kills that he’ll be too late to bargain for you with.”

 Your stomach drops to the recesses of your body as you try to move away from the alpha that hounds after you while your fingers tighten over the furs that cover you from his roving irises that roam all over you, your skin crawling everywhere that his attention slithers over.

 In the eyes that are glazed over from the onset of a rut, there is no care there. There is only gluttonous greed that bats away anything and everything that is not you.

 Your omega harks for you to submit under the alpha’s penetrating gaze, but you resist it as your own alpha’s voice traipses through your mind.

 “I will not tolerate anyone that attempts to take what is mine.”

 It is that thought that has you pushing past the instinct to yield to the alpha before you now as you shake your head, the surety set in your eyes amusing Taehyung as you spew its fires, “I would advise that you move away from me before you do something that you will regret. Your pack alpha has already made his claim on me and will not hesitate to punish you if you tarnish what belongs to him.”

 Your defiance has the alpha’s cock harden impossibly more amidst the divine incense you emit from freshly opened pores. No omega had dared to talk back to him before and it was inebriating.

 “Stars, you really are lust if it had a form, she-wolf,” the shadow convulses with dark laughter that has goosebumps growing along your skin as you back away, “Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You smell sweet as fuck, too…I wonder if you taste just as good.”

 Fear has your body begin to lock into place when your back nears the rough bark of a tree, “Do not do this, Taehyung. You will face wrath the likes of which you’ve never seen if you so much as lay a finger on me. I want nothing to do with you, do you understand?”

 A grin curls with malicious intent along its edges as he takes a step forward until he’s only inches away from you as he taunts, “Oh? You want nothing to do with me? Perhaps you shouldn’t be striding around smelling like temptation and sex in that little dress then, huh? You omegas always have a flair for driving us crazy when you present, but fuck, Y/N, no one holds a candle to you. I think,” his eyes glint dangerously when your back hits the thick trunk of the tree, “that you should be claimed by a real alpha that can treat you better than Jeon ever could.”

 “Taehyung,” you try through a dry mouth,” Stop. I don’t want this. Jungkook is the one I wish to bear the mark of, not you.”

 Panic sets in and seeps icily across every vein when one hand comes to rest next to your head, his eyes burning a hole into your neck as he makes a sound of consideration, “Such a lucky happenstance that the pack alpha didn’t think to mark what was his if he didn’t wish for others to taint it.”

 The alpha nears and the ache between your knuckles warrants the incoming protraction of unguis, but before they can make their appearance, there’s a raged roar born entirely of aggression that threateningly thunders through the woodland. It is stormed by the fury that is set between the crackling of claws fulminating fiercely over the trunks of trees somewhere behind you.

 It takes only one inhale through your nostrils to know who has joined you, your heart pounding faster in response as your wolf cries for its mate while his scent thaws the ice within your body that Taehyung had foolishly frozen within it.

 “I thought I made myself clear to you, boy,”  the sound bleeds into a menacing snarl from behind you and Taehyung stops in his tracks, seized as he is by the overpowering command of the alpha ranked higher even than him as Jungkook’s brooding aura pierces him like an icicle in the coldness of the familiar voice,” She’s mine. I would advise you back the fuck away from my mate before I do much worse to you than break both of your arms the last time you felt it wise to try to fucking disobey me.”

 In the chill of the frigid air that has his beast wanting to tuck its tail between its legs, Taehyung tries to ignore it as he dissentingly jeers, “Is she yours? Unfortunate that I don’t see your mark on her then, pack alpha,” Taehyung sneers, his eyes still settled on yours, though your attention is far from him at this point as you stare longingly towards the origin of where nails scrape furiously into the skins of the trees as he dares to challenge, “You are not the only wolf that thirsts for a she-wolf as parching as this one, Jeon. I could get drunk off her scent alone and you expect me to just sit back and allow you to take such an appealing aperitif away from me? Sorry, but I want to taste her myself and there’s nothing that you can do to-“

 The rest of whatever the younger alpha had been wanting to say never makes it past the confines of his mouth, for there’s a blur of golden skin that flashes before you and suddenly, Taehyung has been launched several feet into the air only for his spine to collide into the back of an old, stocky evergreen tree.

 The bark screams against the contact in the deafening series of snaps as the foolish alpha is slammed so forcefully into it that, like an arrow, his body shoots cleanly through the aged integument as the oaken pillar that has been broken in half falls to the forest floor with a thud.

 Golden irises find you under their attention as your alpha steps from behind you, your blood warming at his heated touch when he grasps your chin between his fingers to assess you for damage before laying his forehead against your own as you reach out for him, the pads of your fingers lightly trailing tenderly along his jawline as you quietly whisper,” Alpha.”

 Jungkook nuzzles you protectively before he rumbles out, “My omega. Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

 He’s like a furnace in the way that his skin is calefied with the intensity of the sun and you purr when he nudges at your neck as your palm finds its place where his heart beats like a drum against you as you tell him, “No, Jungkook. With you around to keep me safe, he never got that far. He was about to, but you didn’t let him, my alpha.”

 Your alpha bristles at that, his irises dimming in light of your admission as he growls, “He nearly did. He would have if I hadn’t come when I did. I sensed your scent souring and it led me here. Had I been just a bit later, I nearly would have lost what was mine,” you watch in awe how his canines draw themselves out of his gums, captivated by the way that they lengthen and grow in size until they protrude out of his mouth in their large size that is much more massive than the average alpha as he pulls away from the nook in your neck to lay a callused palm along your jaw as he utters, “I need you to stay here for me, pretty. That fucking fool needs to be reminded of who is in charge here and I intend to jog his pitiful memory so that he never forgets it.”

 He draws away entirely too soon as you whimper in his absence and you, with your eyes magnetized only for him, observe with interest the way that he strides heavily and imposingly through the cluster of trees to bear down upon the collapsed body that is a mess of tangled limbs under the broken arm of the oak he’d been forcefully thrown against.

Your alpha’s hair falls wildly over his face and, in the waning light of the sun, his eyes bear down balefully over the younger alpha as he stands nude save for the mended article of clothing covering his lower half that you had dutifully brought for him. 

 Fury is palpable in the way that it looms like a shadow off of Jungkook, in the way that it clings to his every muscle when he snaps with glistening incisors at the downed alpha as he seethes, “It seems that you’ve lost sight of who is at the top of the food chain, boy,” Your alpha towers intimidatingly over Taehyung, who hisses at him, “The one on top gets the pick of the fucking litter and that, Taehyung, has never been you. I am your pack alpha and I am the only wolf that can command all of you alphas beneath me. It’s time that I discipline you to make you aware of that fact.”

 You hardly have time to process the popping sound of bones before your alpha has lodged five razor-edged, serrated claws deep into the recesses of Taehyung’s left shoulder as the younger alpha yowls out in pain that can be heard miles away in its dismal din.

 Your alpha marvels at the crimson fluid that stains him as the red tears of Taehyung’s wounds pool around your alpha’s digits only to trickle sadly downward until they are one with the earth.

 Jungkook snarls forbiddingly when Taehyung squirms underneath him to hound out, “What happened to that mouth you like to fucking flap all the time? Too scared now to use it, boy?” Your alpha leans forward with anger flashing in his eyes, “I would suggest that you don’t fuck with me again, little wolf. You’re going to get much more than the fucking claws next time should you be foolish enough to try.”

 Your alpha draws his other arm back, your eyes widening in the darkness that is settling its dark shroud over him.

 Before another set of claws can embed themselves within the younger alpha, you call for your own and through the cloak of negative emotion that has begun to suffocate him, your voice slips between it to caress the ire of his baser being.

 When your smaller fingers enclose around the wrist of his bloodied hand, you gently coax his claws out of Taehyung, who crumples atop of the brambles along the woodland with a thump as you press yourself to your alpha’s back to offer with a soft voice, “Come back to me now, alpha. Your mate does not wish to see you so wracked by your fury. You’ve made your point clear to both him and to me.”

 Jungkook inhales deeply only for his muscles to loosen while your sweet scent laces itself around him as he turns to utter, “My omega, it is because of my mate that I must resort to the animal within me,” You watch as the dark emotion recedes slowly from his irises as he imbibes you, entirely too parched of you for so long as an emotion you’ve yet to understand intensifies in its wake when he confesses, “I can hardly help that when you beckon me so, pretty.”

#werewolf!jungkook #werewolf jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook #bts #dom!jungkook #btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #bts abo #alpha!jungkook #alpha jungkook #alpha omega bts #alpha jungkook x omega reader #jungkook hot

[skala]

AvA Inktober: day 14

Sleep

When Blue slept, she dreamt of soil, soft and damp beneath her feet. She dreamt of rain, and of a winding path threading its way through redolent lavender gardens and vegetable plots and beds of roses dripping with dew. The rain made everything more vibrant, Blue thought. It splintered each color into a hundred varying shades. As Blue strayed deeper into her fantasy, pausing here to prune a wayward branch, there to examine a budding seedling, she committed each to memory, wondering, secretly, if she would ever see such colors again.

Then she came to the edge of a gully, and no color mattered but one: Red, bathing Reuben in the puddle-turned-pond below. The pig snorted in recognition as Blue stumbled towards them, spurred by the half-aware part of herself that wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms tightly around her friends and never let them go.

Red waved to her. “I thought I might find you here!”

The stick figure pulled himself out of the water and began climbing up the bank, Reuben in tow. Blue held herself back; held this captured moment in time as though it were a delicate crystal that could shatter at the slightest touch. “Tread lightly,” she cautioned, wielding the branch in her hands like a sword. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven either of you for trampling half my crops yesterday.”

Red’s face broke into a grin. “As if you could stay mad at us.”

She couldn’t. She bent to scratch Reuben behind the ears, earning a gentle nuzzle in response. The sensation nearly made Blue fall to her knees, but Red reached out and caught her—held her. No, she screamed silently, he would fall with her.

The dream shifted; the sky darkened. Please, not yet, one more minute—

“What’s wrong? Afraid of a little mud?” Red laughed as Blue pushed herself away, too late; her dream was already collapsing around her, slipping through her fingers like fine sand. The harder she clung to it, the faster it fell. Red’s laughter turned to suffocating, choking gasps, his fingers twitching to strange scars opening across his neck and waist.

“What— What’s happening? Blue? Blue, I can’t— I need—”

Gills. Water. Without thinking, Blue grabbed Red’s wrist, binding him to reality just long enough to shove him down into the murky pond, deeper and deeper until the frothing deluge closed over his head, and he disappeared.

“Red?” Blue called out, searching the rising waves with increasing desperation. Could he breathe? Could he still hear her?

“Who’s Red?”

Blue flinched at the all-too-familiar voice from the opposite bank, and glanced up to see the image of Orange striding across the water, turning it to ice with every step he took. It wasn’t really him, she knew, numbly.

“Red. My friend. Where is he?”

The impostor fixed her with a callous stare, studying her beneath those false-green eyes. “It’s always been just you and me, remember?”

“Fiend,” spat Blue, drawing herself to her feet. “My friends will come for me.”

They would. She remembered their names. Orange, and Yellow, and—

The witch cackled, contorting Orange’s visage into a hideous smirk. “After all this time? Are you certain, dear? I seem to recall you trading all three of them for netherwart.”

That's a lie. Was it? Blue swung a fist at the witch, but her movements lagged, as if she were made of lead. Had she really betrayed her friends for so little? An almost playful knock against her shoulder sent her sprawling onto the ice. It shattered, and Blue was falling, freezing, flailing as she dropped into endless, all-consuming darkness. The light coalesced into a single point, impossibly distant.

With the last of her strength, Blue reached out.

The netherwart broke.

She reached back. Her dreams fell away like scales from her eyes as she found herself, yet again, in the empty void that had become her home.

The netherwart regrew almost instantly. Confined within herself, Blue hugged her knees to her chest, shrinking in disgust from the wretched fungus she had come to despise. How much time had passed since her ill-conceived errand had brought her to this place? Months? Years?

Perhaps, she thought, perhaps only days. They would find her. And she would beg their forgiveness. All she had to do was wait.

Wait, and remember them.

And she did remember them. She remembered Green, like fern and stem and every growing thing. And Yellow—yellow like daffodils and dandelions; and Orange: the poppy and the marigold, the glow of an august afternoon. Blue gazed at the white nothingness around her and imagined orange and green and yellow vines forcing their way inside, splitting the walls apart, flooding her cell in sunlight.

Blue looked at the unobtainable netherwart growing around her legs. There had been a fourth. Somewhere, deep down, Blue knew there had been a fourth. But their name and their color had faded from waking memory.

And so Blue closed her eyes, and tried to sleep, to dream of them once more.

#animation vs minecraft #sticktober #skala writes

[n1kolaiz]

THE GREAT FITZGERALD

thank u @dazaistabletop for getting me so interested in Fitzgerald's character. ur my favourite Fitz kinnie ok mwah( ˘ ³˘)♥

Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald's novel— The Great Gatsby— was a love story that involved Jay Gatsby, whose mannerisms and characteristics appear to be quite similar to Fitzgerald in the Bungou Stray Dogs adaptation. I just finished reading The Great Gatsby so I thought I'd just make a comparison between the main protagonist of the novel and the main antagonist in BSD's Guild Arc.

Other than the fact that both Jay and Fitzgerald share similar character traits (ambitious, arrogant, and optimistic) the relationships Jay had with the other characters of the novel and the interactions that Fitzgerald had with the other characters of BSD are quite similar, too. I'll focus on three specific associations that both Fitzgerald and Jay experienced in a parallel manner:

Zelda Fitzgerald and Daisy Buchanan

Tom Buchanan

Louisa May Alcott and Nick Carraway

SPOILERS FOR THE GREAT GATSBY!

in case anyone hasn't read it but wants to :)

To avoid confusion, every time I mention Fitzgerald from here on out, I mean the character from BSD; I will specify my references if it comes to the author.

The Great Gatsby had its plot set around the time of the Roaring Twenties: the aftermath of World War I, the peak of socialite culture, and the growth of a prosperous economy and general wealth altogether.

The Roaring Twenties was also a time of luxurious pleasure and liquor, where people indulged themselves and got addicted to hedonism— the pursuit of gratification.

The Great Gatsby was actually written on the basis to prove how corrupt this age was, and the existence of such corruption was vaguely hinted by various factors, one of which included Jay Gatsby's actual source of income: being involved in the affairs of the black market. This proves that illegal activities were not uncommon around that time, as people did anything they could to achieve materialistic gains.

This isn't a history lesson, I promise.

Both Jay Gatsby and Fitzgerald had grown up in poverty and disliked the concept of being anything short of wealthy. They both worked extremely hard to attain financial abundance.

I presume that not everything they did was actually legal when it came to gaining money. As mentioned before, Jay was involved in criminal activities which founded the basis of his wealth, while Fitz once mentioned that in order to own a gun, he had to kill 4 people. He goes on to tell us that he ended up owning that specific gun's manufacturer eventually.

Daisy Buchanan and Zelda Fitzgerald.

The Great Gatsby is actually centered around Jay Gatsby's rather obsessive infatuation with Daisy.

Daisy was a beautiful lady with a incredibly charming nature— she didn't have much trouble with attracting many men back then before she got married to Tom Buchanan, the antagonist of the story and the rival of Jay Gatsby.

"Her voice was full of money," he said suddenly.

That was it. I'd never understood before. It was full of money— that was the inexhaustible chair that rose and fell in it, the jingle of it. the cymbals' song of it... High in a white palace the King's daughter, the golden girl...

Daisy and Jay Gatsby fell in love right before he was sent off to war and a few years before she met Tom. Before they were separated, Jay's dream of gaining wealth and status was primarily flamed by his intention of reaching Daisy's social ranking in order to be worthy of her love.

Initially, because of how passionate he was about his love for her, Jay lied to Daisy about his wealth. It was only after the War did he actually gain the riches he aimed for. By the time he did achieve his monetary goals, Daisy had married Tom already. Consequently, Jay hosted a bunch of lavish parties in order to gain her attention, prove himself and his love for her, and ultimately, win her back.

Jay perceived Daisy as a literal angel, void of any flaw whatsoever. He even tells Nick, the main character, that the fact that numerous men got romantically involved with such a lady just increased her value altogether.

But what gave it an air of breathless intensity was that Daisy lived there— it was as casual a thing to her as his tent out at camp was to him. There was a ripe mystery about it, a hint of bedrooms, of gay and radiant activities taking place through its corridors, and of romances that were not musty and laid away already in lavender but fresh and breathing and redolent of this year's shining motor cars and of dances whose flowers were scarcely withered. It excited him too that many men had already loved Daisy— it increased her value in his eyes. He felt their presence all about the house, pervading the air with the shades and echoes of still vibrant emotions.

As the story unfolded, Daisy's character was torn apart for a proper, more brutally realistic perspective of her true character, revealing a shallow, selfish lady who solely placed her interest in money and luxury, the things which she often took refuge in when things went wrong. As the plot developed itself, the actuality that Jay fell in love with the idea of Daisy, instead of Daisy herself, was much more evident. And it took quite some time for him to discover and acknowledge the truth.

Fitzgerald's love for Zelda was very apparent, too, except that it seemed more genuine and pragmatic. Not much is speculated about Fitz and Zelda's relationship in the Guild Arc, but his love for her was very deep, as everything he did was for her and their deceased daughter.

Side note: Fitzgerald (the author) based Daisy's character partially on Zelda, as both women were brought up in wealthy families and took a general liking to lifestyles revolving around money and ease.

Fitzgerald was in love with Zelda, a woman plagued by a debilitating illness. In The Great Gatsby, Jay was in love with a woman who was plagued by the deceptive addiction of self-satisfaction gained by pleasure and whatnot. Zelda was impaired by an mental illness, while Daisy was intoxicated by the security of money and prestige. This is an abstract suggestion though. Personally, that's how I interpreted this correlation when it came to examining these dynamics in their respective universes.

Tom Buchanan

As mentioned before, Thomas Buchanan was Daisy's husband and Jay's rival who had similar characteristics in matters of personality. The Toms in both book and anime were arrogant and cunning, which pretty much vouches for their selfishness.

In the book, Tom is supposedly the love of Daisy's life, except that she just married him for his money instead of waiting for Gatsby. Then again, Tom was involved in a love affair outside his marriage with a lady named Myrtle Wilson. Tom cheated on Daisy by getting involved with Myrtle. On the other hand, Daisy was unfaithful to Tom by keeping her love and relationship with Jay a secret from him.

The climax of the story partly revolves around Myrtle dying in a hit-and-run car accident. The grand twist was that Daisy was the one driving the car, and the car actually belonged to Gatsby. Because the car belonged to Gatsby, George Wilson, the husband of Myrtle, was bent on revenge and tracked down the car. He ended up killing Jay Gatsby, and soon after that, he killed himself.

It was quite a scandal, but Daisy estranged herself from such a tedious matter. In fact, when Jay died, she did not even attend his funeral. Tom was under the impression that Gatsby was the one who killed his mistress, not Daisy, his wife. Either ways, Nick described them in a way that sums up what became of them after Jay's death:

They were careless people, Tom and Daisy— they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made...

It's interesting to note that in chapter 45 of the BSD manga, Tom appears as the antagonist who was later found guilty of murdering his employee, but the blame was originally put on T.J Eckleburg, the inventor of the Eyes of God.

Side note: T.J. Eckleburg was actually an optician who appeared on a billboard advertisement in the novel. This billboard was used as a personification by Nick Carraway, which was meant to embody the representation of a displeased overseer who observed the events that unfolded before him. The Eyes of God has a similar concept: scrutinising everything with an accuracy of 97%. It's a personal speculation, but the Eyes of God was proven to be of utmost importance in the Cannibalism Arc when it came to capturing Fyodor Dostoevsky. Likewise, T.J. Eckleburg's eyes showed how corruption and misconduct never escaped his judgmental visage.

sorry about the quality of the manga panels ;-;

In the manga, Fitzgerald manages to triumph over Tom by betraying his trust altogether in order to obtain the ownership of the Eyes of God and Tom's company. This stands in contrast to what became of Jay in the novel, but the protagonist got what he wanted in this universe.

Keep in mind that Fitzgerald didn't act according to fulfil what justice required; it was purely business. Just like Jay Gatsby put on the facade of a plain, rich man who was really just bootlegging his way to opulence, Fitzgerald wasn't afraid to betray someone's trust to get what he wanted.

Nick Carraway and Louisa May Alcott

If I were to pick a character that represented Louisa May Alcott in BSD from the book, I'd pick the narrator himself: Nick Carraway. Again, this is my personal interpretation, so the association between these two characters is just my personal opinion.

Nick Carraway was known as the more reserved, cynical protagonist compared to Jay. The both of them developed a cordial friendship as the story progressed.

Nick initially took a liking to Gatsby, who was his neighbour. The enigmatic aura Gatsby emitted called for Nick's attention, and in the same way, Gatsby reciprocated his interest in Nick by making the effort to acquaint himself with him.

He had one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced, or seemed to face, the whole external world for an instant and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself.

There were a few times which suggests that Nick didn't like the way Gatsby acted or spoke. Nevertheless, Nick was the only one who stuck with Gatsby until the end.

"They're a rotten crowd," I shouted across the lawn. "You're worth the whole damn bunch put together.

(This was the last thing Nick said to Jay before he died.)

At first, Nick was intrigued by Jay's mystical nature and peculiar idiosyncrasies, but found that Gatsby was a very strange, but 'morally bad' man. However, over time, Nick became one of the few who managed to recognise Gatsby's idealistic ambitions; he saw through all the fame and wealth and found a mere human being capable of being entrapped by love's snares. Basically, he understood Gatsby, despite disagreeing with his actions and even his behaviour at times.

As for Louisa, well, it is a known fact that she was loyal to Fitzgerald because of how much she respected and trusted him.

Both Nick and Louisa were intelligent, witty people with generally nice, honest, and reserved dispositions. Their self-contained demeanours make it very easy to get along with the more exurbent/dominant personas of Gatsby and Fitzgerald. So in the event where each pair was isolated from the rest of the world, they had each other to depend on.

Next morning I sent the butler to New York with a letter to Wolfsheim, which asked for information and urged him to come out on the next train. That request seemed superfluous when I wrote it. I was sure he’d start when he saw the newspapers, just as I was sure a there’d be a wire from Daisy before noon – but neither a wire nor Mr. Wolfsheim arrived; no one arrived except more police and photographers and newspaper men. When the butler brought back Wolfsheim’s answer I began to have a feeling of defiance, of scornful solidarity between Gatsby and me against them all.

Such a dynamic created a close bond of trust. Just as Nick was not hesitant to stick by Gatsby's side, Louisa went to great extents just to return Fitzgerald back to his former leading position and work together with him.

Side note: Nick Carraway is suggested to have the INTP personality type, while Louisa is most likely an INFP. Both these personalities are strikingly similar in many ways. They are individualistic in thinking and described as 'seekers' of their place in the world. If you're interested in a more detailed comparison, check this post out

Alright, that's about it for my speculations; I hope they weren't too messy. Thank you so much for reading!

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

- Nick Carraway, The Great Gatsby

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