#like. the difference between seven years and ten years is not that much

[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (six)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, six

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing, explicit smut (oral (receiving/giving), fingering, not so dry humping (frottage). big miscommunication trope, it is what it is. it’s so much angst i’m so sorry

word count. 8,437

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. lee jeno, huang renjun, na jaemin, lee haechan (donghyuck), lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, qian kun, ten lee, jung sungchan, kim jungwoo, kim doyoung

author's note. chapter six is here! it’s shorter because chapter seven is twice as long, but this felt like a good place to cut it! so, enjoy enjoy! (crying editing this chapter because Sungchang mentioned). also, i don’t know what happened? i had this scheduled to post at 10:30 last night and then it didn’t post it?? i woke up thinking i flopped because i didn’t have any notifs 😭 i’m so sorry

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno @girlisaloser

playlist. here!

“You’re so beautiful.”

Johnny’s voice was soft, his fingertips running along the skin of your stomach. You watched him, every move he made, every breath, every blink, and wondered if you’d ever get used to those words from his lips. The way his lips curved around each syllable with an easy, definitive smile. How his eyes didn’t waver, held a sincerity Johnny was never short on. Humming, a pleasant pause to thank him, you looked down at his fingers and said, “I remember when we met.”

“Yeah?” His grin grew, “What do you remember?”

Johnny when he’d yet to grow into his limbs, when his arms were a bit too long for the sleeves of his uniform and his legs carried him in acre-long strides. Johnny when his charm was settling, solidifying into sincerity; Johnny’s sparkling eyes when they were filled with unpredictable fireworks, instead of ever-shining sun. There were few discernable differences between that Johnny and the man in your bed, waiting for you to breathe.

You looked back to him, “I told you that your tie was crooked and you ignored me.”

Johnny laughed, chest pressed against you and rumbling with the sound. His hand extended to settle on your waist, pulling you closer to him, still, “I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you don’t.” Curling into him, you added, “You got in trouble for it thirty minutes after, though. I think it was your third or fourth day.”

“Hm. I didn’t know how to tie a tie.”

You nodded, head on his chest, and confirmed with, “Your mom only bought you clip-on ties. You told me.”

“What else?”

“You seemed so much older than me.” It was a strange thought, the memory of Johnny so young but feeling larger than life, larger than this world. For as long as you’d known him, in all the ways he’d changed, that much was still true, “Everything about you, just…the way you existed. That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Sure it does.” He’d come in the middle of the school year, just before his birthday. He did everything he could to blend, everything he could to integrate. He found you and he found Jaehyun and Johnny found a place to fit, “You had that bright yellow backpack.”

“I still have it.”

“And your astrology book.”

You traced the tattoo on his arm, “And you asked me what the stars had to say about when you’d be losing your virginity.”

He kissed the top of your head, muffling another laugh in your hair. Johnny closed his eyes, “Do you still have your book?”

“Mm. Probably. I think it’s downstairs.”

Johnny pulled back, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, your cheek. Then, fingers on your chin, he tilted your head up and kissed your lips. Johnny who had grown into his arms and his acre-long legs. Johnny who grew his hair longer, who knew how to tie a tie. Johnny who had sunlight in his eyes, who kissed you like it killed him not to. You let your heart swell, holding onto the memory of him with one hand and holding this moment in the other. His lips that curved around sweet words moved slowly with yours; Johnny would always move slowly with you.

“Do me a favor.” He kissed you again, only briefly, “Go find your book?”

“What?”

“Go see if you can find it.”

Sunbeams flickered in his eyes so brightly you could confuse them for fireworks, traces of your memories still lingering in him. Johnny smiled at you, nudged you, pulled himself from the bed and you after, “Why are we doing this?”

The warmth of your blankets faded too quickly, Johnny’s warmth following just as fast. He urged you towards the door, hands on your waist and pushing you backwards, “Go on. I’ll meet you down there.”

You grumbled, “It’s cold.”

But you went. Johnny asked and Johnny smiled, so you went. Your house was dark, two o’clock casting shadows and a particular sense of calm. Your living room was only lit by a sliver of moonlight, just in the center. Your bookshelves lined the furthest wall, behind your television and on either side; a collection that never stopped growing, a collection that needed to be shifted and straightened regularly. Books you’d read and cherished, annotated and scribbled love notes to the authors, the characters and their enemies in. They were stacked in wobbling towers on the floor, leaning against each other for support when they started to fall.

You knew where the astrology book should be; torn to pieces, pulling apart along the spine and frayed at the edges. It hadn’t moved in years, tucked away on the second shelf from the top. Your bare feet padded across the living room, stepping carefully around precarious stacks until you found it. It felt lighter in your hands, smaller.

You cracked it open, let the dust on the cover rub off on your fingers while you skimmed over your notes, “Huh.”

You’d dog-eared five dates; two in February, one in August, one in September and one in late October. It was a relic of its time, frozen and preserved. February 9th had his name scribbled at the top, Aquarius highlighted in neon green, unpredictable underlined in black. Your memory of Johnny came back to life in front of you; crooked tie, shorter hair, fireworks bursting in his eyes.

“You found it.” His voice was close behind you, “Can I ask you an astrology question?”

You turned and looked at him, Johnny still so much bigger than this world, larger than life, “Sure.”

Johnny came closer, “What do the stars have to say about you being my girlfriend?”

Your heart jumped, flipped, exploded in your chest. Any oxygen you had in your lungs fled, leaving you to gasp for air, for an answer. Johnny watched you, the easiest smile he could manage on his face. He was stepping closer still, hands wrapped around his sweater until he was toe-to-toe with you, lifting it over your head and pulling it down.

He took a moment to look at you. His sweater fell against your thighs and he worked at the sleeves until they were rolled up to your wrists. Johnny didn’t hide that he was shaking, didn’t hide that he was nervous and excited and bursting with adrenaline. You’d told him that you wanted to be his. Make me yours, you’d said. But, he had yet to ask and Johnny didn’t ever want to assume - not when it came to this, not when it came to you.

So, he explained, “I didn’t ask yet, officially. I wanted to ask.”

The spine protested the way your hands gripped the book, “Me or the stars?”

Johnny looked at the open pages, the word unpredictable underlined, then smiled at you. It was all he could do, he was riddled with hope, “Both. You, mostly. But, both if it helps.”

You caught your breath then - he was looking at you like that. For months, unnoticed. For months, undetected. For six months, Johnny waited and settled on certainty, on sincerity. If you asked for it, he’d give you that time. He’d tease you, he’d kiss you and Johnny would make a game of it; one you could both win, one you’d love to play. But, Johnny would give you that time, if it’s what you needed, if it meant you’d be his.

If the stars said to, he’d double it.

Make me yours, Johnny. You’d made your decision over dinner, over stolen kisses at a Halloween party, over a dance at a festival and that look. So, you swallowed and said, “I say yes.”

Johnny’s breath caught in his throat when he asked, “And the stars?”

“They say yes, too.”

Johnny swept you up in his arms, lips on yours in an instant. He was still shaking, adrenaline leaving his body in short breaths between kisses. He could feel the world rotating, felt it move underneath him and knew it was a miracle he was steady on his own two feet. He whispered your name, followed it with, “My Juliet.”

Then, Johnny thanked the stars. He sang their praises into your lips and begged them not to go cross at the sound of your nickname. To have a sense of humor, to give his Juliet and your Romeo a better ending. Johnny held you in a sliver of moonlight and asked the stars for no ending, at all. Just you.

Only you.

📻

11:37am Hey man

11:37am I think it’s just gonna be you and Jaehyun tonight

11:38am I’m gonna spend the day with my girlfriend

“Yo.” Mark’s phone buzzed once on the table, twice in the palm of his hand. He blinked just as many times, watching as the messages from Johnny came in, processing them, letting his jaw drop as a reaction, “Yo!”

His fist balled, slamming against Jeno’s arm to his left, “What happened?”

“They’re together.” Mark was hushed, his answer almost lost in the bustle of the cafeteria. His eyes felt like they’d fall out of his head, bugged as they were, “They’re fucking together.”

Renjun leaned over Mark’s other shoulder, “Johnny?”

Jeno shook his head, “Holy shit. He did it?”

Renjun settled back into his seat, “See Jaemin, it’s possible.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“This is incredible.” If he could bottle this feeling he would. His expression shifted to reflect every emotion he cycled through until it settled into an ecstatic grin. He pushed himself away from the table, “I’ll be right back.”

Then, Mark crossed the cafeteria phone pressed to his ear. Johnny answered, “Why would you call?”

“Because I’m excited, dude.” He was weaving through people, no clear destination, “You asked her?”

“I said I wanted to spend time with my girlfriend and you called?” He could hear you laughing, Mark’s cheeks ached. Johnny told him, “I asked.”

“Dude, when?”

“Dude, last night.”

He leaned himself against a wall, “I can’t believe this.”

“Sure you can, Mark.” He listened to the background noise, unidentifiable sounds, the two of you moving together. Together. Together. You and Johnny were together. Mark’s laugh came out like a hoot, rushed out and echoed in the hallway. Johnny joined him, briefly, “Look, we’re just waking up. So, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m so happy for you, Johnny.” He was. More than what felt reasonable, but it was out of Mark’s control. He was ecstatic, “Both of you. Seriously.”

Then, Johnny told him, “Thanks man. Me too.”

The line went silent after that, leaving Mark to buzz on his own. He paces three laps the width of the hallway, smiling to himself, celebrating by himself. Mark basked in his uncontainable feelings for as long as he could, before he raised his phone again and made one more call.

“Hey, Mark.”

“He did it.” He was bursting at the seams, “Jaehyun, Johnny fucking did it.”

📻

Johnny’s head was in your lap. Your fingers played with the strands of his hair, twirled them around and let them fall. His fingers traced up and down your calves, occasionally chased by his lips. The movie you’d turned on was nearly forgotten, falling into the background every time he kissed your skin. Johnny hummed against your leg, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” When he looked up at you, you did your best to smile back, lips pulled tight. Your hands fell to your sides, palms flat on the couch while Johnny rotated, turning to face you, “What are you doing?”

“You’d tell me if I was pushing too far, right?” You nodded, Johnny’s hands caught yours and pulled them back to his hair, “Good. Keep going.”

His lips kissed your thigh, soft and brief, but enough to make your heart pound. One kiss by your knee, another higher, another higher still until he’d pushed the fabric of your shorts to the side to kiss along the line of your panties. Johnny breathed you in, eyes closed, “Too much?”

You sighed, “No.”

“Keep going?”

“Please.”

His fingers tugged at the fabric again, nose nuzzled against your clothed pussy for a moment before he placed a kiss at your core. Higher and higher until another one circled around your clit. You tasted like heaven, still, like perfection falling apart at the simplest touch underneath him.

“Babe?” He didn’t lift his head, voice muffled against you, “Can I taste you, again?”

You nodded your head.

Johnny chided, “Words, baby.”

“Yes, please Johnny.”

He sat up in a second, hands wrapped around your ankles and pulling at your legs. He moved himself to the opposite end of the couch, letting you lay back and find comfort before he lifted your leg again. His kisses were sloppier, rushing back up your leg, and his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs. Johnny felt starved and it hadn’t even been twelve hours. Pulling at the waistband, he slid your shorts and panties down your legs, dizzy at the sight of you, again; overwhelmed by your glistening pussy in the daylight.

“I’m so fucking lucky.”

You hid from him, face behind your hands, “Johnny, be quiet.”

“Not a chance.” He hovered over you, hardening cock brushing against your clit when he whispered against your lips, “You’re perfect, baby. All mine.”

“All yours.”

Then, Johnny was back between your thighs, lapping at your pussy; drinking you in. His tongue pushed inside, circling to taste every drop before he steadily thrust in and out. He held your thighs down, fingers bruising your skin as you writhed and wriggled, arched against him, “Feel good?”

“Feels so good. Feels so fucking good.” Your voice was broken, barely above a whisper, “‘More.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Johnny focused his attention on your clit, sucking it between his lips and moaning against you, “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

“Mhm.”

He slipped two in, lifting his head only to watch how your jaw hung open. Johnny smothered himself with your pussy, barely coming up for air, sucking and moaning against you. He added a third finger, “So wet for me. Dripping.”

“Johnny.”

“Tell me.”

Your mind was lost, fogged over completely at his touch, the way he sounded, the way he made you feel. Your hips bucked every time he hooked his fingers inside you, with every kiss or kitten lick on your clit. You were gone, mindless, “More.”

“My Juliet is greedy.” He hooked his hands under your knees, tossing one over his shoulder and then the other, “Good to know.”

He dove back in, messy and wet. Johnny’s drool mixed in with your juices, dripping down onto the couch. He pulled back, leaving you breathless, a rush of cool air on your cunt. His fingers were in his mouth, sucking the taste of you from the tips before he put them back in, using his other hand to lift your ass up off the couch. The angle had you seeing stars, head thrown back.

“Johnny. Johnny. Johnny.” Your legs were shaking, stars blurring into pure white as you came on his tongue, on his fingers, down Johnny’s chin. You were everywhere on him, “Fuck. Oh my God.”

He pulled his fingers out slowly, sucking your wetness off of them again before he settled back on his heels. His cock was pushing against his pants, only for a second, before Johnny pulled it out and spit on his hand. He kept his eyes on you, wrecked in front of him and bucked into his hand, “You’re fucking incredible, baby.”

Your eyes opened slowly, the sight of him jerking himself off sent a shiver to your core, “No. No wait.”

“Wait for what?” His hand never stopped. You pulled yourself up as well as you could until you were in front of him kneeling. Johnny couldn’t breathe, “Open.”

Your jaw fell, waiting for his cock. Johnny slapped the tip against your tongue once, twice, three times before he eased it in, rocking just slightly. You wanted him to use you, wanted him to feel just as good as he’d made you feel. Wanted Johnny to look at you like this, always; those sunbeams shining in his heavy-lidded eyes.

“Use me.”

His hips stuttered, “Huh?”

“However you want, Johnny.” You sucked at his tip, tongue tasting the precum leaking from his slit, “Just use me.”

“Come here, beautiful.” He pulled you up. Johnny settled into the couch, sitting upright and guiding you onto his lap. You waited for him to lower your hips down, sink you onto his length, but he didn’t. Instead, Johnny held your hips, sliding his cock through your wetness before letting it slap against his abdomen. He sat you down, positioning his cock between the two of you, then breathed out, “Move.”

His fingers pushed into your hips, your waist, your ass. Anything he could hold onto to get your hips grinding on him. Your pussy slid against his cock, wrapped around him and wet. The tip pushed against your clit with every thrust, both of your moans echoing in the room.

Johnny licked his lips, one hand reaching up to grab the back of your neck and guide you to him. You kissed him, uncoordinated and sloppy, lost in the rhythm of your hips and his. He was breathing heavily, chest rising rapidly as he chased your lips, chased his high.

“It feels so good.”

He nodded his head, resting it against yours, holding you there. Johnny begged you, again, like he needed to know he had you here, “Look at me.”

You did, eyes locked on him. Your hips couldn't follow the rhythm you’d set, both of you humping and grinding against each other, erratically before Johnny moaned, “Cumming.”

It was drawn out, the way he said it. Johnny was shaking underneath you and never letting go, the intensity of his own orgasm pushed you over the edge, again. Head tossed back, calling out his name like it was the only thing you could remember.

He pulled you against his chest, let you collapse there and catch your breath. He felt like he’d pushed too far, clarity coming back to him like a wave. So, Johnny held you until you came back down and hoped he hadn’t crossed a line.

He asked, “How do you feel?”

“So good.”

“Not too far?”

You leaned back, holding eye contact with him again and promised, quietly enough for only Johnny to hear, “Not too far. I promise, I’ll tell you.”

He nodded, “Okay.”

“Come take a shower with me.”

Again, he nodded, “Okay.”

📻

Saturday came quickly, after a whole day hidden away with Johnny. Your boyfriend Johnny. Johnny who knew exactly how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to keep your world spinning and Johnny who promised he’d figure out the rest. He held your hand as you walked down the street to Jaehyun’s, keeping you wrapped in his sweater for one more day.

He stopped you in the middle of the road, centered in front of Jaehyun’s house and staring up at the loft, “You ready?”

“It’s just Mark and Jaehyun.” You hoped his sweater would summon a pinch of Johnny’s certainty, trying to convince yourself that a night in the loft would be normal. Knowing that it wouldn’t be, feeling Jaehyun on your lips, Johnny everywhere else. You looked at him, “It’ll be okay.”

Johnny knew you were worried, if it wasn’t written clearly on your face, you’d told him as much. In the steam of your shower, with Johnny’s hands on your skin, you told him. You’d whispered it like a secret against his bicep, “Tonight will be different.”

He lathered you in milk and honey soap, massaged it into your skin, “Why do you think that?”

“Because we’re different.”

He was kneeling at your feet, one leg propped up so he could rest yours on top. Johnny switched your legs, letting you use him for balance, before he looked up at you - beautiful you, vulnerable with him, willingly vulnerable. He’d spent six months wondering how he could get here and now, all he wanted to do was stay, “Different how?”

You snorted, “You know how.”

The cheeky grin on his face made you laugh more, “Yeah, but I want to hear you say it.”

You played the game, “Because you have a girlfriend.”

Johnny stood up, imitation shock perfectly on his face, “I do? Who? Should I be here with you?”

“Of course you should be.”

“And why is that?”

Giving in, caving for Johnny’s charm, you switched spots and pushed him under the water. You brought your lips to his chest, kissing where the last leaf of his tattoo ended and telling him, “Because I’m your girlfriend.”

You could feel him shiver when Johnny pulled you flush against him, “You’re my girlfriend.” Then he whispered, “How insane is that?”

Jaehyun’s house was daunting, now, a new reality. You’d never hesitated on his sidewalk like this, never thought twice about climbing the iron steps. Johnny pulled at your hand and repeated your words back to you, “It’ll be okay. It’s just Mark and Jaehyun.”

Mark had gotten there first, taking the steps two at a time when he arrived. Jaehyun could hear him before he could see him, the clunk of his feet, then the door hitting the wall, then his backpack hitting the floor. The youngest asked, “Are they here yet?”

Jaehyun was at his piano, tapping keys one by one in a scale, “Not yet.”

“Can you believe it, man?” Mark was at the window, pulling off his coat, his hat, watching the empty street like it would pull you from your house, “Johnny thought he’d change his mind.”

“Did he?” Jaehyun met Mark where he was, hands tucked in his pockets. He saw you, then, hand-in-hand with Johnny. Jaehyun let the words rush out in a sigh, “Looks like he didn’t.”

“I knew he wouldn’t. I think he just wanted to be sure, you know? He’s so careful about this kind of stuff.”

Jaehyun noted, “Yeah. He is.”

At that, Mark looked at him, pulling his attention away from you and Johnny - boyfriend and girlfriend, together, you and Johnny - to ask, “You okay, man?”

Jaehyun took only a second to react, adjusting himself to stand upright, fixing his expression so it was believable. He was falling apart, but he told Mark, simply, “Yeah. Weird work week.”

And they left it at that.

When you’d climbed the stairs, when you pushed the door to the loft open, Mark rushed the two of you. Shouting out his excitement, arms secured around the two of you, “Oh my God!”

Johnny laughed, hand still holding yours, squeezing a reassurance before he patted Mark on the back, “I’m starting to think you thought she’d reject me.”

“I’m just excited, man. This is so exciting.” He was so eloquent when he could nit pick his words, but in moments like this Mark was repetitive, vibrating with too much energy and excitement to articulate, “Congrats you guys.”

You heard bottles clink across the room, followed the sound to where Jaehyun stood. He looked at you for a second, felt his lips tingle - the last place you touched - and then agreed, “Congratulations you guys.”

His hand extended to Johnny first, then Mark, then you. The way Jaehyun’s fingertips lingered on the neck of the bottle, at the tips of yours, was something kept between the two of you. Johnny told him, told the both of them, “Thanks.”

And you echoed it, eyes on Jaehyun.

Your astrology book was open on your coffee table, turned to the page with February 14th at the top. Jaehyun’s name was scribbled, just like Johnny’s. Two pages filled with notes, with highlighted marks and underlined words. You’d studied it, when you were younger, grew frustrated at the surface level explanation of someone you knew had so much more depth. Looking at Jaehyun now, trying to read him like your book, it was impossible.

Jaehyun felt lost to you.

You had felt it coming, but the reality of it made the beer you swallowed down even more bitter.

Johnny pulled at your hand, “Alright what’s the plan for the night.”

There wasn’t one - there never was. Hours went by in a blink. You’d let Johnny mix you nonsensical cocktails, sipped them down in the middle of the mattress and eased yourself into the night. Johnny carried the conversation, kept your attention with every word. Mark’s laughter echoed off the walls, mixed with yours and Jaehyun’s, sometimes overpowered them. Jaehyun sat at the piano, watching and listening, looking away whenever you peeked at him.

It was tearing you apart.

Mark was too far gone, six celebratory drinks in and wobbling on his feet when he asked, “You guys kiss and stuff, right?”

You choked on your own drink, eyes wide, while Johnny laughed and rolled backwards. He’d sat himself by the windows a while ago, finishing a story and crossing his legs. Mark was near Jaehyun, eyes slow blinking and a lazy smile on his face.

He laughed out a drawn out, drunken, “What? It’s a fair question.”

Jaehyun shifted in his seat, “You’re drunk, Mark.”

“Yeah, obviously.” The youngest was still smiling, shining brightly with mischief while he looked between you and Johnny, “I think you should kiss now.”

“Mark, what the hell?” Your own laughed must’ve sounded forced, or maybe just as drunk as his. Still, you slowly shook your head, “We’re not kissing in front of you.”

“Come on. Why not? When was the last time you kissed?”

Johnny answered for you, glancing at the time, “Six hours ago.”

“See!” Mark gestured vaguely, excited, using his last wind to make his point, “That’s way too long. Don’t you guys want to?”

Again, Johnny answered, truthfully and certain and with a quick wink, “Always.”

“Then do it.”

You looked at Jaehyun. He tapped at the piano, eyes down. You were happy - Johnny made you happy and that’s what Jaehyun wanted. But, you couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stand the way he avoided you. Your heart was a lump in your throat, impossible to swallow down. Then, Johnny was in front of your standing at the end of the mattress and reaching out his hand. He smiled, you melted at the sight, the beams of light in his eyes turning you into a puddle, “Come on, baby.”

You thought you might have been the only one to hear it, until Mark squealed. You let the world outside of you and Johnny fade, knowing Jaehyun was in the corner doing the same - fading you out, turning away, closing himself off. You needed Johnny, needed him to hold onto you. So, you took Johnny’s hand. You let Johnny pull you to him and fall into orbit.

“Hi.” You whispered.

He said it back, “Hi. Too much?”

“Maybe a little.”

“We don’t have to.”

But you shook your head. Mark was right, six hours felt like too long, after a little more than twenty-four and, “I miss you.”

Johnny laced his fingers in yours, “I’m right here.”

He leaned in, Mark said something like, “They’re doing it” an octave higher than usual, clapping his hands like a seal. Johnny leaned in and you titled your head up to meet him in the middle, letting his lips mold to yours, move with them, just like you had all last night, all day.

Then it was over. Johnny turned to Mark and asked, “Happy?”

And from the way Mark kicked his feet, from the way he jumped up and onto Johnny, you knew he was. You couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t stop the laugh. Jaehyun was on his feet, stepping around the two of them with a pat on Johnny’s back, “I’ll be back.”

Then he was gone.

Johnny and Mark found a new topic to pick at, collapsing into each other in laughter, in drunken camaraderie. You watched for a moment before finding an excuse with reason, “I’m gonna get some water.”

Then you followed after Jaehyun.

He could hear your footsteps behind him, soft and careful, lingering just over his shoulder. Jaehyun held his breath, fingers fumbling with twisting the lid off the bottle. He couldn’t focus on it, his chest tight again, alone in his kitchen with you. Eventually, the metal scraped enough on the glass so the cap fell, clinking against the countertop. Jaehyun ignored it, his breath easing its way out of captivity in his lungs, and poured.

“I submitted my edits.” He didn’t turn, the silence between you filled with the sound of whiskey in a tumbler, “Lee Haechan has notes.”

His shoulders were stiff, “Oh?”

You nodded, silent and knowing he wasn’t looking. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your throat, your ears, “He wants to meet with me.”

Jaehyun only hummed.

“Please.” You didn’t mean to say it. You didn’t mean to plead, for Jaehyun to hear it. It seemed fruitless to beg him, to let this silence swallow you up and put more space between the two of you, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He took a sip of his drink, licking his lips, “We just keep apologizing to each other. For what?”

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

“You’ve said that. Nothing is happening.” His world is crumbling, Jaehyun was lying to you while he was lying in ruins. The haze of alcohol made everything seem slow, heavy, impossible. He turned, leaning against the counter but still looking away, “We’re all just adjusting.”

“You said you wanted me to be happy.”

“I do.”

“Then please. Please just be honest with me.”

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched, “I am.”

The circles you’d spun in were wearing you down. Every conversation you’d had with Jaehyun for the last month spiraled the same way, until the ground caved in underneath you - another layer added each time, worse and worse the further down you went. Your heart was aching; if the daylight found you euphoric, the night and the drinks and the way Jaehyun avoided you found you in a state of misery.

The same conversation, the same circles, the same sickening feeling in your gut watching your best friend close himself off. February 14th in your book; distant underlined in black, detached highlighted in neon green. Jaehyun was two feet away and had never been further from you.

Anger replaced hurt long enough for you to say, “You’re so full of shit, Jae.”

“I’m full of shit?” That was the tipping point. His eyes were on you, zeroed in and pinched in a glare. Jaehyun tilted his head back and let the whiskey slide down his throat, the glass hitting the counter harder than he’d anticipated when he was done, “Has it always been him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Johnny. Has it always been Johnny?”

“No.”

“It’s just him now, then?” Jaehyun stepped closer, “You just woke up and decided that?”

You froze, hand at your sides and head tilted, “How do you think this works?”

“I don’t know and you won’t fucking talk to me about it.”

“I can’t talk to you about it!” You could hear the music from upstairs and hoped that it was loud enough to drown you out, to mask your explosion, “This is what happens. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know what it’s going to be. That’s the whole point, Jaehyun. Do you know where all your relationships will go from the start?”

He shook his head, not as an answer. Jaehyun shook his head and rolled it back, letting the debris settle around him, “Obviously not.”

“Why do I need to have so many answers for you?”

“It’s the same fucking thing you did with Sicheng.” It wasn’t. He didn’t mean it. Jaehyun sought out an escape and latched onto a lie, again. He watched the way your face twisted and immediately wanted to take it back. But, he doubled down, “Look how that ended.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” You didn’t wait for him to tell you, stepping back, “You’re out of your fucking mind. We were kids, Jaehyun.”

He called your name, stepping after you, taking up the space you’d been in before. Jaehyun was overwhelmed by cinnamon, pink pepper, mandarin, “We’re not kids anymore.”

“Exactly.”

Jaehyun’s voice was quiet, “Did you fuck him?”

You stopped, “What did you just say?”

“Did you fuck him?” You didn’t budge, you didn’t answer, you didn’t blink. Jaehyun ran his hands through his hair, “This whole thing is a game.”

Clarity came and went, weaving through your words, the music, the things Jaehyun said. Another layer of the Earth crumbled from another loop, “It’s not and for some reason that bothers you. You just won’t fucking admit it.”

“It doesn’t.”

“We’re having the same conversation, again, because it does.”

He was in front of you again, wavering again, “I don’t want to lose another friend because you want to fuck around.”

Johnny and Mark moved two floors above you, footsteps and laughter loud enough for you to hear in the silence that fell between you and Jaehyun. Fury and confusion mixed like another cocktail for you to swallow, another drink you’d choke down tonight. It was too much, every second, every word, every thought. It was all too much.

You blinked.

Jaehyun watched the tear roll down your cheek, watched it curve at your jaw and felt like he was going to be sick at the sight. He could see his bedroom door, considered how the night would’ve gone if he’d just gone to bed, cut himself off. Instead, he’d gone too far. Jaehyun reached for you, the most natural thing for him to do, his hand out in front of him. You pulled back. You kept pulling back.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“You said it.”

He said your name again, a broken whisper in the back of his throat, “I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I - fuck, that’s not…”

“You didn’t lose Sicheng. You won’t lose Johnny.” Jaehyun wanted to correct you - that’s not at all what he was worried about. You kept pulling back and he kept pushing, doing everything he could to ensure he’d lose you. Every step was a misstep. Jaehyun was terrified, stuck in this moment, this loop. Your hand wiped the tear from your face, the ones that followed its path, “But, until you figure out what you do mean, I…I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

Your arms wrapped around yourself, comforted by Johnny wrapped around you, soothing you in the way Jaehyun would if he could reach. The ground held your attention, eyes cautious in case it gave way, again. You weren’t sure how much Earth there was to spare, how much of your foundation you and Jaehyun had left. He watched you shake your head, erase all the thoughts that had you so far away. Then, you told him, “Whatever this is. I don't know who we are anymore.”

Jaehyun couldn’t tell you. A little more than twenty-four hours ago, he thought he knew. In a world before he watched you kiss Johnny and feel something, before he saw your face when you really liked it, Jaehyun thought he could figure it out even though, “You said you felt nothing.”

He didn’t know you had heard him, he didn’t know he’d said it out loud, until you asked, “What?”

So, for the last time, he lied, “I said we’re nothing. We’re the same as we were.”

“Don’t. We keep saying that and then this keeps happening.” You looked at him, for the last time, “Figure it out.”

Then you left. Jaehyun waited until he heard your footsteps join Mark and Johnny. He stood perfectly still in his kitchen, breathing faster and faster with every second until he felt like he couldn’t stand anymore. Then, Jaehyun went to bed, freezing.

📻

A week had gone by quickly and the world adjusted around you, around Johnny, around an ache that still lingered and you tried to push down. A week had passed and you worked hard to find your footing on frosted over pavement, sidewalks that shone under a layer of ice - water from a late night storm. A week had passed and you were suddenly halfway through November, choking down the silence between you and your best friend.

The café helped in filling the quiet, bustling midday while you waited for your faceless author. Your latte cooled in front of you, the steam from it evaporating as the minutes passed by.

Then, he was there - Lee Haechan was exactly how you pictured him and somehow shockingly different. His oversized blazer hung open around him, tan against a plain white shirt and jeans. The black beanie on his head left a dent in his hair when he pulled it off and introduced himself, confirming your name and saying, “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, same.”

His head tilted to the side, eyebrow lifted, “Really?”

“Of course. I really enjoyed your book.”

Haechan laughed, straightening upright, “You did? You sure had a lot to say about it.”

You balked, “I mean…that’s my job.”

“Right.” He tapped at the table, “I didn’t disagree with most of it. Honestly, you’re the first editor that gave me honest feedback. So, I guess I should thank you.”

“I thought this was your first book.”

Haechan nodded, “It is. You’re the sixth editor that’s gone through it, though. Seventh if you count my friend, Sungchan.”

You leaned forward, wrapping your hands around your mug before bringing it to your lips, “Why so many?”

Haechan easily matched your position, leaning closer and smirking, “Everyone was full of shit.”

“And I’m not.”

He shrugged, “You might be. But, I liked it.”

He was something else - charming in a way that was almost off putting, confident and calm, “Okay. So, why did you want to meet?”

“Tell me about your first love.”

“Excuse me?”

Haechan leaned back again, watching as the waitress set his drink in front of him and crossing his arms, “I write about love. You’ve been in love right?” You nodded, slowly, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. You had no way of knowing where this was going, Lee Haechan was unpredictable, resolute when he asked again, “Tell me about it. The first time.”

“Okay, sure.” You’d spent years avoiding the topic and the last month circling back to it. Your head throbbed at the thought, but you told him, “He was an exchange student. He…I don’t know, the moment I saw him I felt like I just needed to be near him. He was so quiet and reserved, at the time, and it felt like he was a mystery. Does that make sense? I’d spent my whole life until that point surrounded by the same people and he was so new.”

“A shiny new toy to play with.”

Words that were unintentional knives, poking and prodding at the memory of Jaehyun in his kitchen. The implication that Sicheng was a game, that Johnny was too - Jaehyun had thrown the same knives. And, when they tore at your skin, when his words drew blood, Jaehyun was shocked. Haechan had no way of knowing how his words pierced fresh wounds, how you’d felt them reopen and used your latte to choke down what pain followed. He just watched you, curious as he’d been when he came through the door, and waited for you to speak.

“No. No, he was more than that. He was, I don’t know, bubbly? Vibrant and when he smiled it was like magic.”

“Wow.” Haechan sat with that, mulled it over while he sipped on his own drink. He looked at you, after a hard swallow and asked, “Is that Jaehyun?”

Your pulse stopped, veins cold and lifeless, hands squeezing tightly around your mug. Blinking, you begged Haechan for clarification, “What?”

“Jaehyun.” He took another sip, watching silently as you spiraled, “Is that your first love?”

“No. Jaehyun is…” The word was lost on you; Jaehyun was ice, he was cold and he was something he’d never been. Jaehyun was supposed to be your best friend, but he was shifting into something else, into a ghost and the thought made you nauseous, “He’s my friend.”

He hummed, “You mentioned his name in your notes a few times. I figured it was a reference.”

“He helped me. He…he let me read your book to him so I could work out my thoughts. I didn’t realize I’d left his thoughts in, as well.” You looked down into your mug, followed the swirl of the foam, “I’m sorry. That was really unprofessional.”

“I don’t mind.” Then, Haechan pushed, asked more from you than you were prepared for, “Are you sure he’s just a friend?”

There was nothing you were less sure of, not in that moment. But you knew what he was implying, you know how his words grabbed at your heart and tried to jumpstart the feeling you’d been chasing for years. That familiar ache you tried to push down. You shook your head, “I have a boyfriend.”

Haechan nodded, “Ah.”

Your phone buzzed, nudging a spoon closer to the edge. 12:49pm Come over tonight?

“Boyfriend?” You nodded, “Do you love him?”

“We’ve only been together for a week.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about him.” Haechan pointed to your phone, Johnny’s message still visible, “Love is strange. Every time I think I understand it, I find a new version somewhere else, in something else or someone else.”

“Maybe it’s not love, then. Maybe it’s infatuation.”

“Infatuation is messy.” Haechan shook his head, “There’s a purity in love, something untainted and clean about it. Love is a white light, infatuation is something else.”

“What do you mean?”

Haechan pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it and placing it on the table between you. It was a page from his book, torn from the manuscript and scribbled on. He watched as you read over it; a passage about the love interest, a comment about the main character credited to Jaehyun. Haechan cleared his throat, “Jaehyun said the way Sanghoon felt was fleeting. The way it’s described was fleeting, ungrounded.”

“Right.”

“And you said…” Haechan leaned over the paper, himself, fingers tracing along your written notes, “What is more akin to love than desire to float away.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s more pure than a desire to fly? Love should feel like that.” Then he smiled, teasing and wide, “Light in color, light in weight.”

You looked at him, “You seem like the type to have an opinion on everything.”

Haechan barked out a laugh, “You’re right. I like talking to you.”

“I’m undecided.”

“Fair enough.” He checked his watch, humming at the time before he told you, “I have to go. We should meet again, though. And, really, think about it.”

“About what?”

Haechan was standing, securing his hat on his head again and taking another long sip of his drink before he looked directly asked you and repeated, for the second time, “Do you love him?”

📻

Taeyong’s apartment was warm; pleasantly covered in dim lights dangling from the ceiling, music lilting out of a speaker hidden by bodies in a small crowd. He ushered you in, “Hey you.”

His hug was welcome, just as warm as his home, “Hey Yong.”

You could hear Mark’s laugh, tucked away somewhere around the corner, mixed in with every other sound you had yet to match to a sight. The air was heavy with the smell of food, lingering on Taeyong’s clothes, on the apron tied around his waist. Taeyong slid your coat onto a hanger, put it in the closet and came to stand behind you, “He’s in the kitchen.”

You looked back at him, “He told you.”

Taeyong snorted, stepping around you into the apartment, “He’s telling everyone that will listen. Come on.”

As soon as you rounded the corner, as soon as you were in his line of sight, Johnny saw you. You watched the end of his sentence taper off, the way he stilled his stirring and the conversation he’d been having with Ten. Johnny locked onto you and opened his arms as wide as he could, heart full in his chest, “There’s my girl.”

You fell into him, breathed him in for the first time in two days - since your meeting with Haechan left you spiraling and Johnny turned spirals into comfortable, comforting spins. He held you close as you mumbled, “Hi babe.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Johnny held your hands around his waist, locked them there, “I like how that sounds.”

Johnny kissed your lips, Mark broke from his conversation with Yuta to hoot, to holler, to watch you tuck yourself back into Johnny, “Jesus.” You pushed your way under Johnny’s arm, “What are you making?”

He shrugged, closing the distance again and wrapping around you from behind, “Ask Taeyong.”

Johnny kissed your neck, palm flat on your stomach, the other guiding you to look back at him again. He wanted to kiss you, it was all he could think about all day. So, he blocked you from Mark’s view and moved his lips to yours, “Missed you.”

“Saw you this morning.” Johnny’s hand slipped down from your chin, down your arm, down to hold your hand in his. Insatiable was the closest to what he felt, “Missed you, too.”

“Stay with me tonight.” Johnny’s breath was hot against your ear, “Please.”

You hummed an agreement, sighed and leaned further into him, “Okay.”

Ten chopped vegetables behind you, “There are other rooms for that.”

“You can join.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder, Ten tossed a slice of carrot over his; laughing when it bounced off Johnny’s cheek and fell to the floor. Johnny turned back to you, “Did you see everyone else, yet?”

“Not yet.” You’d placed the spoon back into the pot, stirring the broth that bubbled and popped, “Who is here?”

“Yuta, Kun, obviously Mark and Ten.” Johnny looked around the room, “Jungwoo is on his way, Yangyang is running late and picking up Renjun.”

His name missing from the list didn’t go unnoticed. Do you love him had plagued you for two days. Words from a stranger that had embedded themselves in your brain, clawed at it until you didn’t have a choice but to listen. Johnny was warm against you and it was a comfortable distraction. Johnny was careful with you, easing you into view and keeping some things secret for the two of you. I wasn’t talking about him.

Part of you knew he wouldn't be here. Jaehyun would put as much distance between the two of you as he could; Taeyong was across the city, Taeyong lived in another world. You thought about asking Johnny to stay at yours tonight, to bring you back to your world and let you hang onto the last bit of closeness you had with Jaehyun. You were spiraling again.

“You okay?”

You nodded, “Kitchen is hot.”

“Come on.” Johnny pulled you from the heat of the stovetop, “Ten, can you stir.”

“Tell Kun he has to come cut.”

The living room was cooler, by far, louder and filled with interweaving conversations. You followed the end of one conversation and listened as it carried on into another, filling the empty space Kun had left on the couch.

Yuta had dyed his hair fire-engine red since the last time you’d seen him, a vibrant contrast to the layers of black he wore. He was engulfed in his conversation with Mark, elbows on his knees and leaned in. Mark, opposite him, seemed more at ease after his assessment date had passed. His hands moved wildly in front and around him, illustrating whatever he was relating to Yuta.

Taeyong was perched on the armrest of his chair, the one positioned in front of a shelf of his own work. His fingers were stained with paint, fading but always present, as they tapped at the screen of his phone. He looked up, lending his voice to the conversation when it was useful, turning his attention down when it wasn’t. Taeyong was similar to Johnny in that way, always moving with intention.

Kun and Ten were chatting in the kitchen, working around each other in remarkable sync. You were sure Ten had a new tattoo, just above his elbow, but he was too far away to tell now. Kun had pushed his glasses down from the top of his head, focused on the dish in front of him.

It made you feel sick, sitting in a space so full of life and still lingering on such an empty feeling. If you sat quietly long enough, you’d get lost in those thoughts. But, Johnny had his hand in yours and, when he could feel your grip loosening, he squeezed his fingers around yours and whispered something beautiful, something sweet. Something so wonderfully Johnny that you went from drifting to floating, only a slight difference between the two.

But it was enough for you to notice.

Kun told you all the food was ready, wiping at his hands with a towel before you all filed into the kitchen. Taeyong’s doorbell rang a second later, he rushed to answer it, “It’s probably Jungwoo.”

Just like Mark, you could hear him before you saw him. Jungwoo came into the kitchen with an announcement spilling from his lips, “I brought a surprise.”

Hope swelled in your chest, head turning and seeking him out. Searching for dimples, for a tugged at tie, for his laugh and his smell and the way he’d look for you, first. Ten spoke up, “Doyoung?”

And your hope shattered.

It was only when everyone filed out of the kitchen, only when you and Jungwoo remained, that you thought to ask, “Is Jaehyun not coming?”

Jungwoo licked at his fingertips, tasting a sauce Kun said was his specialty, “No. He couldn’t make it.” Jungwoo poured a ladle full of soup into his bowl, eyes flicking to you when he asked, “Didn’t he tell you?”

You lied, knowing the words fumbled coming out of your mouth. You lied, blinking and focusing on your already full plate. You looked up at Jungwoo and lied, “Yeah. Right. I must have forgotten.”

Jungwoo watched you leave the kitchen then, his phone heavy in his pocket with a message from Jaehyun.

8:12pm Tell me how she is.

previous. masterlist. next.

[a-pastel-edgelord]

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You're a normal person—so normal in fact that sometimes Shouto gets whiplash. Your family doesn't have the same kind of baggage his does.

Your childhood wasn't spent in the shadow of the death of your older brother who then came back to try and kill you. And it shows. You get along with your siblings, joking and laughing. Everyone is on speaking terms. Maybe it's because all of them are younger than you.

Your mom never scarred you. Your dad never beat you. You have no legacy to uphold.

"It's nice." He blurts out one evening after spending it with your siblings. "Your family is nice."

You shrug with a smile. "I like my brother and sister. They're great."

"Is it... difficult being the eldest?"

"Sometimes." You look at him, searching his face. Shouto knows that you must know—who wouldn't know—but he waits for you to elaborate. You puff out something between a sigh and a laugh. "We just have different parents."

He frowns, "But you have the same mother and father."

"Ah yeah. It's a thing we like to say." You jerk your head at the door that your brother and sister just left through. "I'm confusing you, aren't I? Seven years between kids isn't huge, but it's not nothing. I just..."

Shouto watches as you struggle to put this into words he can understand. He can't help, not like you do with him when he struggles to articulate his feelings. You're much better at that kind of thing. So instead, he places a hand in your shoulder. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, no. I want to tell you. To say it out loud—

"Babies. Babies are a lot of work. And at seven, you can do quite a few things independently. Like making your lunch, getting ready for school, walking home, picking up groceries, or studying."

It washes over him. The things you're not saying float to the surface. He's seen pictures of you as a child, as an eighth year old and now all he can think about is little you sitting alone at the breakfast table.

Little you walking home alone from school.

Little you being self-sufficient by ten years old because the babies were a lot of work and your parents weren't paying enough attention.

Something cold turns over in his gut. He was so convinced of your normalcy. Maybe even jealous of it at one point. Just because it wasn't fraught with trauma and loss, doesn't mean your childhood was an easy one.

Shouto wishes he could have been there.

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

I was watching S3E15: Dorothy's New Friend yesterday (the one with Barbara Thorndyke), and when the girls are talking about Rose's masquerade ball, Blanche says:

"We've gone for the past five years. We may hate it, but we always go."

Now — Golden Girls isn't exactly known for its perfect continuity, so this might just be an error, but if we take it at face value, this is telling us that:

1) in S3 the girls have been living together for five years, if we assume they already felt close enough during their first year as roommates to accompany Rose to the masquerade ball (otherwise, they've lived together for more than five years). Which means:

2) when Shady Pines burns down and Sophia comes to live with the Girls, they've been living together for at least two years already. (As a side note, iirc Dorothy states in S1 that Stan left her about two years prior, so I guess this implies she started living with Blanche and Rose right after her divorce). Which means:

3) when Rose says in the finale that there's too much to say about 7 years of fights and laughter and secrets and cheesecake, she's talking about the group of the four of them, but actually she, Blanche and Dorothy have spent basically an entire decade together.

A decade. As if seven years wasn't painful enough. I need to scream

[vogelmeister]

(when i say general i mean standard 2 and 2 unit is advanced)

[wonderjanga]

Marvel’s Lives

As you guys know, there have been previous champions. They’ve all lived different lives and such. Some have been men, some women, and are some genders that don’t exist anymore. Point is, no one life is the same.

Let’s say some female heroes are talking about abortion one day and out of nowhere Cap just chimes in:

Marvel: “Oh yeah, pregnancy is tough, man. Giving birth is not for the weak. I’m speaking from experience here. Anyone who doesn’t want that, shouldn’t do it.”

Female JL members: “What…?”

Black Canary: “Marvel, last I checked, you were a man.”

Marvel: “Actually, a few thousand years ago, I used to be a woman!”

Female JL members: “???”

Marvel: “I’ve been a woman, multiple times actually.”*proceeds to walk away like he didn’t drop that on them*

They’re all thinking he’s trans, but no? His words imply he’s fluid? The thing is though is that Marvel’s never really shown that he’s either. The question was later asked by Hawkwoman when he was making oobleck in the kitchen of the Watchtower

Hawkwoman: “Captain.”

Marvel: “Yes, Ms. Hawkwoman?”

Hawkwoman: “Are you a woman?”

Marvel: *looks up from his oobleck to her, looking confused* “No? Why?”

Hawkwoman: “Some of the other girls were talking about how you were a woman at some point.”

Marvel: “Ooooh that. I was a woman. Yeah.”

Hawkwoman: “So you’re not anymore. What did you look like as a woman, if I may ask? Also what is that?” *points to the oobleck*

Marvel: “Oobleck.” *offers bowl off oobleck to her for her to play with* “Also, sure. Just a sec.” *mutters a spell*

Hawkwoman: *pokes the oobleck*

Marvel: *poofs and is now a female champion from like seven thousand years ago. His suit also changed to the previous champion’s own suit* “Tada!”

Hawkwoman: *does a double take when she sees him* “You… Certainly have a darker complexion.”

Marvel: “Yeah. If I remember correctly, I lived in the Middle Eastern area back then. That’s probably why.”

Hawkwoman: “And why are you white now?”

Marvel: “My appearance changes every few a hundred years or so. That includes my skin color, gender, and other features.”

Hawkwoman: “Oooooh. Okay then.”

They proceeded to play together with the oobleck after that.

Like ten minutes after that initial interaction…

WW: “Shayera. There you are. I was wondering if you wish to spar with me.” *notices Marvel* “Who is this? A new hero?”

Marvel: *turns around, hands covered in oobleck*

Hawkwoman: *also turns around, hands covered in oobleck* “What’d you say? I was distracted.”

WW: “I was wondering if you wanted to spar with m…” *trails off when she sees Shazam’s lighting bolt on fem Marvel* “Brother?”

Marvel: “Hi, Ms. Wonder Woman.” *waves an oobleck covered hand*

WW: “Why’re you a woman?”

Marvel: “Ms. Hawkwoman asked.” *shrugs*

The three then proceeded to play with the oobleck together.

Then, there was the time someone asked Marvel about his religion when they heard he believed in the Greek Gods.

Marvel: *shrugs* “I’ve been multiple different flavors of pagan. Fun fact, a couple thousand years ago, I used to be a ritualistic cannibal. It was apart of the offerings and rituals of a shaman. Or at least the types of shamans of that time in that specific empire.”

JL member: “Do you still eat people now?”

Marvel: “That’s not important, the point is, if there’s a religion, I most likely at some point practiced it. Or at least the super old version of it.”

JL member: “Okay? But do you still eat people now??”

Marvel: “I guess I’m saying I’m kinda in between religions?”

JL member: “Can you please stop ignoring the questioning ?”

He continued to ignore the question.

Of course, the ritual cannibal thing isn’t the only one of the outlandish things Billy’s casually admitted to doing. Eventually though, things can get a little bit too much for some members.

Marvel: *telling them about another thing he did in a past life*

GL: “Okay! That’s enough, dude!”

Marvel: *concerned* “What? Did I say something wrong?”

GL: “No, I’m just confused as to why you’ve done all these things, man. Are these like side quests you under go? Or like…? What’s going on, pal?”

Marvel: “Nothing…? These are just things I’ve happened to do.” *shrugs*

GL: “So you’re willingly telling me you tried to trample someone to death with a horse just for funsies?”

Marvel: “Well, when you put it like that-”

Flash: “Wait, what about the time you told me you were a princess before princesses were a thing?”

Marvel: “I uh-”

Superman: ���And the time you told me that you used your lightning powers to become a cult leader?”

Marvel: “Okay, I get it. I’ll stop tell you guys about myself.”

MM: “Captain, it’s not that we don’t want you to tell us about yourself. It’s instead that your stories seem to have no cause for them.”

Flash: “Yeah! Like why did you feel the need to become a cult leader? How were you a princess?? Why would you want to trample someone with a horse???”

Marvel: *shrugs*

Flash: “Wha- Don’t just shrug!”

Marvel: “I was a different person back then.”

Superman: “That’s a little too cryptic, bud.”

[seokgyuu]

The Sweetest Thing

All your life you’ve been your sisters’ punching bag. Never good enough. Never fully accepted. When your mother makes one of them choose you as her maid of honor you reluctantly agree. Semi-vacationing in Tuscany with your ‘beloved’ family, you meet two handsome strangers one night and let them do whatever they want with you. Too bad you didn’t ask for their names first.

Pairing: Heeseung x F!Reader x Sunghoon 

Genre: Strangers to ???, Porn with Plot

Warnings: CHEATING!!! reader is hooking up with her sisters’ fiancés, sisters are horrible and suck, mentions of past verbal abuse, reader is somewhat a pervert (she defo is), heeseung & sunghoon definitely are perverts, heeseung & sunghoon are mean, they have nothing good to say about their fiancés, alcohol consumption, adult content MDNI! smut warnings under the cut

Word Count: 9.2k 

a/n: and here it is!! my little box of filth. i wanna give a shoutout to @c-oupsie for hyping this up and telling me to keep going, ilysm!! and also @chwepen for beta-reading!! sending you smooches. <3 now everyone, please enjoy this sausage fest.

Taglist: @skzenhalove, @haelahoops, @deobitifull, @shiningnono, @jakeswifez, @slut4hee, @gyuhanniescarat, @branchrkive, @doublebunv, @capri-cuntz, @jaehyuniewifeu, @whateverhoon, @c-oupsie

Smut Warnings: threesome, dom!heeseung, dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, lowkey public sex, p in v sex, throat fucking, unprotected sex (be smarter than this pls!!!), degradation (usage of the words: whore, slut, filthy, stupid (only indirectly?)), praise, tit job, mc is described to have big tits, sunghoon can carry mc, manhandling, cum eating, cum play, shower sex, consensual sex taping, pls tell me if i missed any!!

Pastel colors are slowly but surely becoming your greatest enemy. You can’t count how many different patterns and matches you have seen on this day alone - and the preparations for this wedding have been going on for months. 

In all honesty, you didn’t even want to be here. As pretty as Tuscany is - this is the last place you want to be at right now. You would rather sit at home and play a game, would rather sleep in and not have your mother be all over you, pressuring you to do better in a job you never wanted in the first place. 

It is your sisters’ wedding. Yes, sisters’. They are both getting married at the same time, same place. Just the grooms are two different men (even though you wouldn’t put it past them to share a man for convenience). Men, you haven’t even met yet. Men, that your mother and sisters kept on swooning over. Look, it is no surprise your sisters got lucky in that department; They are extremely conventionally attractive and they love doing fun things like going out and spending money on things they really didn’t need. 

You grew up with them being six and seven years older than you, making them already inseparable when your mum decided to push another one out. Getting along with them sure as hell wasn’t an easy task, in fact it still isn't. It’s pretty clear you only got the job as Linda’s maid of honor because your mother threatened her to do so. There was probably a very heated rock, paper, scissors round going on between your sister dearests to decide who got to have you. 

And now you are here. In warm, beautiful Italy with yet another color scheme to look over and authorize. You surely didn’t sign up to suddenly become the wedding planner as well. 

“Yeah, that’s perfect, thanks,” you say to one of the florists who are just now setting up the arrangements for the rehearsal dinner happening tonight. 

It’s hot, so hot that you have to take shelter every ten minutes because of the fear of burning up. You don’t usually like to spend this much time outside - let alone in the scorching hot sun, so this is rather the change for you. 

When the florists leave to get another load of flowers, you decide to take this as the next round of shade and air conditioning inside the resort your sisters have chosen for their special day. 

It’s insanely beautiful. High ceilings, incredible murals on the wall, a big round table in the center of the entrance hall with a crystal vase on top, filled with flowers that would make the florist outside turn green in envy. 

The air inside immediately cools you down and you take the moment to sit down in one of the arm chairs in the lobby to calm yourself. Only a week. That’s all you need to survive. A week with your sisters and their fiancés, soon to be husbands and your and their families. Guests would arrive the night before the wedding and as soon as the reception was over - you could finally leave and hopefully not see your sisters for another year or so. 

“Ah, there you are.” You close your eyes for a second. 

“Shouldn’t you be outside?” Linda and Liza are standing in the lobby in their designer sun dresses, very obviously judging you for not being where they want you to be. 

“I just came in to escape the heat for a second, that’s all.” You explain as you open your eyes again. The two certainly don’t look happy. In fact, they roll their eyes and flick their perfect hair over their shoulders.

“Okay, well, time is up. If this wedding doesn’t go according to plan, it’s on you.”

“You don’t want us telling mum you don’t care about your big sisters, do you? She’d be so disappointed knowing you aren’t doing your job right.” 

Your fists almost immediately ball into fists. How many times have they been like this over the three days you’ve already been here? You honestly lost count. One week. Just one week.

“I was just about to go back outside, don’t worry.” 

Anger well hidden away, you stand up and present them with a fake smile, moving to go back outside. 

“Oh and, Y/N?” Linda’s voice feels like a ray of ice hitting you, “try to look a little bit more presentable when talking to our staff. We don’t want them to think we can’t actually afford being here.” 

Your sisters giggle happily all while you bite your tongue once more. One week. Stay calm. One. Week. 

Something about the Italian sky seems different. Maybe it’s because you’re not close to a big city, but the stars shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them. It feels like a movie; the stars and moon so visible with no cloud in sight, the small street of Arezzo you’re currently sitting in - a small restaurant with a small menu but a nice older man that speaks decent English. A glass of wine standing on the small table beside you and the first bit of peace you’ve felt in days. 

It’s when you take your next sip of wine you see them. 

Two men straight out of a magazine walking towards one of the free tables next to yours and sitting down. There is nothing you can do but stare. Both of them have dark hair, one of them a bit shorter than the other. They are dressed elegantly, designer shoes and pants, blazers hanging over their chairs. Even if you wanted to - you could not possibly say which one was more attractive. 

What a nice way to end a horrible day, you think. Smiling, you finish your glass and immediately order the next, not entirely used to drinking so much, but not caring since you are miles away from home and no one here knows you anyway. The waiter nods and then proceeds to go over to the newcomers. The one with the slightly lighter hair and the mole on his nose orders in perfect Italian, with just enough of an accent for you to know they aren’t from here. Your choice of table appears to be perfect for watching them, listening to them converse in a language you understand. 

And it all stays innocent like this - they talk about their flight and about friends - until suddenly the conversation sways.

“I honestly- fuck, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this, you know?” The one with shorter hair says and his friend sighs, taking his wine glass and finishing it in one go. Impressive. There was at least half left in yours. 

“I don’t know what to tell you. We committed and now we’re fucked.”

“Just that we aren’t getting actually fucked.”

They look at each other before they laugh, shaking their heads. Meanwhile, your ears perk up. 

“Fuck, I really don’t know the last time she let me hit it, Hoon. I think I’m going crazy.”

“Yeah, same here. Like, yeah, we fucked once the day before her flight. But literally only missionary and she didn’t suck me off.”

“Again? Dude, is she ever even putting her mouth on it?” 

“Nope. Ever since we got engaged she’s like this fucking prude. Is yours like that too?”

“Yeah. I got her flowers and her favorite chocolates and she still wouldn’t even jack me off, like fuck, if it’s gonna be like this forever I can just go cut my dick off.”

Jesus. These two seem to be in very happy relationships. Makes you almost feel better to not be in one. Even if your mother would beg to differ. She’s been desperate for you to find a match for ages. For whatever reason, really, considering her two golden girls were about to get married to rich and handsome heirs. 

“Just one good blowjob, man, that’s all I want, really. I miss getting some good fucking head.”

The way short hair looks at mole - with so much understanding and pity, you can’t help but chuckle. Chuckle loud enough for them to take notice. 

Their gazes burn on your face before you even see them. But when you do your smile dies and instead makes room for horror. They heard you laugh at them. Even worse, they know you’ve been listening. Shit. 

Thankfully, you are three glasses of delicious white wine in and the fourth one is almost empty. Which means you aren’t the sweet little wallflower you’d usually be. Scary, how alcohol can change people.

“Oh, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.” You apologize, placing your hand over your heart. 

“Agreed.” Short hair says, his eyebrow raised. Now, with both of their eyes on you, it seems like they are even more attractive. Perfect faces with pretty eyes and soft looking hair. Handsome men in unhappy relationships that fail to give them what they need. It’s almost comical how the switch in your head turns over, how the persona you normally never let anyone see until you’re in a secluded space comes out and gives you the courage to speak your next words.

“I just couldn’t believe my ears,” you let your finger glide over the rim of your glass, eyes on the two men with your tongue slipping out to lick over your bottom lip, “how anyone would be opposed to having sex with you.” 

Oh.

Sunghoon and Heeseung’s ears perk up just like yours did earlier. Eyes widen slightly as they understand the innuendo in your words. 

They think about the same thing - the last time they took a girl together. Probably during senior year in college. Back then, they used to do that regularly. Having almost the identical type in women. Instead of having to let her choose, she’d get them both. 

But it’s been years since then. They are in committed relationships now, about to get married. And still - neither of them can deny that you fall right into their usual prey, or well, the prey they’d chosen back in college before their parents had picked out their wives for them. 

It’s the way you look at them, the way your eyes say so much more than your words. It is also the way both of them feel like they are 22 again with nothing but getting their dick wet on their minds. One thing about Heeseung and Sunghoon - they always worked perfectly in a pair. Back in college and now, too. They can almost read each other’s minds at this point, only a short exchange of looks needed to know neither of them gave a single fuck about anything right now.

“Want to sit down with us?” Sunghoon asks and points at the free chair opposite them. You smile. 

“It’d be my pleasure.”

The very small bathroom stall is crowded with three people, but you make it work. 

Sunghoon is holding your head in place, his cock buried so deep down your throat he’s seeing red. You’re perfect. The sweetest thing on the outside, and a filthy little whore behind closed doors. You literally begged him to thrust down your throat without paying you any mind. You wanted, no, needed him to use your throat, to act like you were nothing but his little fuck toy. And, shit, he was more than happy to do exactly as you asked. 

His hips are moving in rapid speed, his groans music to your ears. Drool is running down your chin and dripping onto your knees. He is not holding back, he is just doing whatever he wants with you and you are throbbing. Throbbing around Heeseungs fat cock that is fucking into you with no care in the world. 

Heeseung is sitting on the toilet seat, his hands on your hips, cock rapidly leaving and entering your sopping hole. His head is literally spinning at how fucking good you feel. He bets you’d also sound fucking perfect if only Sunghoon’s cock wasn’t in the way. He can tell by the way you are already squeaking around his best friend’s cock, how your pussy is continuing to spasm around him after you already came on his cock once before.

“Take it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Heeseung breathes out, hips speeding up and your eyes roll back into your head, your body seemingly on fire. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been fucked this good by a strange or, in this case, two strangers. All you know is that you’ve already cum before and that Heeseung surely will get you over the edge another time. He’s thick and veiny and he fills you up so good there was nothing you could do but cum after only a minute of him fucking you like an animal. 

“Shit, look at you,” Sunghoon groans, one hand now wrapping around your throat, his eyes glossy as he stares down at you, still fucking down your abused throat, “you’re a perfect little fucktoy, aren’t you? Enjoy being used by two cocks, huh? Fuuuuuck, you’re gonna make me cum, fucking slut.”

Heesung feels you squeeze around his cock, feels the way you suck him in even deeper. 

“This filthy little thing likes when you talk to her like that, Hoonie. Squeezing my cock so fucking hard.” His head tips back and his mouth drops open as he focuses on his pleasure, already fantasizing about stuffing you with his cum. He moves his hands up, squeezing your perfect tits over your dress and you moan around Sunghoon’s cock, tears streaming down your face. Every touch, every thrust, every word is getting you closer to another high. With Heeseung’s hands on your breasts you can freely move your hips now, bouncing up and down on Heeseung’s cock, matching his thrusts perfectly. 

There is no chance Sunghoon will last much longer. Your mouth, your throat - he’s scared he already developed an addiction to them. Maybe it’s the long time he hasn’t experienced anything like this, but right now it feels like no throat has ever taken his cock so well before.

“Where should I cum, huh? Down your throat? On your pretty face?” Sunghoon groans, his cock twitching over and over before he finally pulls out, jerking himself off so you can answer the question. 

“Cum on her tits, look at those fucking perfect tits, bro.” Heeseung decides to answer for you and Sunghoon smirks as he watches Heeseung get your tits out of your dress for which you thankfully don’t need a bra. Your perfect tits bounce free now and Sunghoon nods, eyes glued to them and how they bounce now that Heeseung continues to fuck into you, your back now arched against him. 

“Fucking hell, such fat fucking tits,” Sunghoon is in a trance, mouth dropped as he jerks himself off with the help off your spit and his precum. 

“Tell him to cum on your tits, slut, come on, tell him how much you want his cum all over you,” Heeseung whispers into your ear, his cock still continuing to ram into your g-spot like it has never done anything else. 

You moan loudly, eyes flying open and Sunghoon almost doesn’t need you to say anything - your fucked out face could well be enough to make him cum. 

“Pl-please g-give me your cum, want it a-all over my tits, pl-please, need it so bad!” You cry out and Sunghoon feels his orgasm hit him, thick spurts of cum landing on your tits and neck, some even on your lips that you hungrily lick off of them, only making another spurt come out of Sunghoons cock. 

“Holy fucking hell, shit,” he groans, falling against the stall door, his chest heaving. 

Heeseung, meanwhile, grabs your hair and tilts your head back as he does his final thrusts, filling your pussy with his seed, white making you feel warm inside and tipping you over the edge, milking him for all he has with your own orgasm, high pitched moans escaping you as your toes curl and your hands grip the material of your dress. 

Once he’s done fucking both of you through your orgasms, Heeseung helps you up, his cock slipping out of you. You’re a little shaky on your legs and Sunghoon catches you before you can fall, his eyes immediately going to your tits that are covered in his cum. He licks his lips. 

“If we had more time I’d take you to my room and fuck those tits until they are covered in even more layers of my cum, baby.” He mumbles, one finger scooping up some of his release and shoving his finger in your mouth, watching in awe how you eagerly suck it clean. 

“Holy fuck, you’re perfect.” Heeseung has put his cock back into his pants, considering to get it back out just to have you lick it clean of your and his juices. He decides against it mainly because he knows there isn’t much time. He and Sunghoon have to get back to the hotel, their fiancés probably awaiting their return. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sunghoon says, but you shake your head, only putting your tits back into your dress and stepping back into your panties.

“I wanna keep it for a bit, keepsake if you will.” 

Both men are silent. Where the fuck have you been before they got engaged to the sisters from hell? For a second they contemplate just keeping you. Using you for when their soon to be wives were being difficult again. 

Obviously, though, this was just a fantasy not meant for reality. 

Perhaps it’s well deserved. Having the worst morning all week, the day right after you fucked two strangers in a restaurant’s bathroom. Two engaged strangers. It’s not a surprise that you didn’t care about the blurred lines of their… relationship status, considering you’ve had quite a few hook-ups with married men who were out of town and needed someone to fulfill their needs while their perfect trophy wives were sitting at home waiting for them. Not the proudest thing you’ve done, but whatever gets you cumming. 

Today, your sisters seem to have it out for you especially. You blame it on the nerves, after all their perfect fiancées are about to arrive today. Everything needs to be in order, their dresses, their hair, their nails, everything. 

You’ve become their personal stylist, nail artist and hairdresser all for nothing more than a chuckle at the way your shirt rises up and shows your stomach that they love to comment on. It’s a win-win situation, for sure. 

“Can’t you see you’ve made a mistake!” Liza screeches, pointing at her (to your eyes) perfectly drawn eyeliner. You blink at her and take a deep breath. Six days. 

“I apologize.” Quickly, you move to fix your error, but your sister slaps your hand away and rips the pencil out of your hand.

“No, thank you. I’ll do it myself, like everything else, you useless piece of trash.”

Six. Days. 

Since there is no point in responding to her, you only nod and turn to Linda who is currently checking herself out in her hand mirror. 

“Anything I can do for you?” You ask, feeling ridiculous. One could think you’re their personal assistant and not their younger sister. 

“Just get out, Heeseung and Sunghoon are about to arrive and I don’t want them seeing you first thing, imagine their shock.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon. 

Something rings in your head. Had they ever mentioned their fiancés names before? Probably - why else would they be so familiar to you. 

“Alright. I’ll be by the pool then.” 

Neither of them deems it appropriate to even slightly acknowledge you before you leave the room.

A huge sigh leaves you the second you step out of Linda’s room and instead head for your own. Just a quick change into a bikini and down you go. A few hours in the sun, maybe a couple laps in the pool. Another bit of peace while your sisters are occupied. Sounds like the perfect morning to you. 

Just that, when you reach your room and change into said bikini - you notice a bruise right above your hip. Your eyes widen at the sight, moving closer to the mirror to inspect it. There is no other possible reason but what happened last night. 

“Shit,” you mumble, looking around your clothes for this one light pink scarf you could easily wrap around your hips as some sort of cover. The last thing you want is for your sisters to see this and ask questions. Bad enough you had the face and figure you had - imagine their outrage if one of these was even further damaged! 

For as long as you can remember your sisters had been your biggest haters. No matter what you did, if you changed your hair or your wardrobe, they’d be mean to you about it. To them, you were nothing but an unwanted addition to a family they had deemed already perfect. Neither of them had ever wanted another sibling, especially not six and seven years apart from them. Suddenly, you were the center of attention, had your mother cradling you and loving you and not giving them the attention they were sure they deserved. 

Even now, at their grown ages, about to get married, they couldn’t seem to get over it. 

From an outsider's perspective their lives were fairly more successful than yours. With great jobs in high positions, a perfect routine that included gym visits four times a week, and of course their perfect soon-to-be husbands. If it weren’t so frustrating it might have been funny how they literally kept them from you - kept everything from you. Blocked you from their socials to not be associated with you, living in their own little bubble, acting like you didn’t exist. 

So, expect your surprise when Linda called and asked you to be her maid of honor. You had only accepted because you know your mother would be devastated if you didn’t. 

That all seems like an okay trade for the view of the hotel pool right by the beach, your body rubbed in sunscreen and your sunglasses on top of your nose listening to music and enjoying your moments without a sister (or mother) around to tell you what to do. 

But your life wouldn’t be yours if your peace weren’t suddenly interrupted by the high pitched laugh of one of your sisters floating through the air and reaching your ears. It hadn’t even been half an hour. Maybe, you think, they won’t even come over. After all, they had hidden you away from them for as long as they had been together. Perhaps they wanted to wait til the day of the wedding next week to finally introduce you. 

Curiosity gets the best of you at last. Who are these men they’ve been gatekeeping from you, who have been nothing but your mother’s pride? Slowly, you turn into the direction of the high pitched laugh, opening your eyes behind your sunglasses. 

And the world around you seems to shake. 

“No fucking way,” you breathe out, moving quickly to get up. Panic arises within you, sheer ugly panic that has your body shaking. This can’t be true. This can’t be happening! You move to throw your phone and headphones onto the lounge chair, your eyes darting back and forth between here and your sister’s location, finally freeing yourself of all the things that can’t get wet to jump into the pool. It seemed like the only way not to get noticed by them. 

There are several other people in the pool and the splash of you jumping in had been drowned out by the sound of a child laughing and screaming. You stay underwater for a good while, thanking your strong lungs, and only come back up when you feel like enough time has passed for them to have left - only to be met by absolute horror. 

They had taken seats right next to your stuff. In their bathing suits from Chanel or Prada or whatever, they looked breathtaking. Not that they would ever get into the pool. It wasn’t them, though, who made your blood turn cold and the insides of your stomach threatening to say hello again - it was their fiancés. 

Short dark hair, beautiful faces. One with a mole on his nose. The other with clear shock in his eyes. 

The men from last night. 

As if to remind you further, you feel the bruise on your hip suddenly starting to throb with pain. You wince and look down, noticing your make-shift cover up being gone. Wonderful. 

Your sisters notice you now, their eyes widening when they see you in the state you’re in. Dripping with water, your hair pushed back out of your face, your body dressed in nothing but a flimsy bikini. They had always envied you for your breasts - not that they would ever admit this. But seeing them right now made them even angrier, after  all Heeseung and Sunghoon were right here and could see those monstrosities! 

And yeah, they see. See your body in that bikini that is leaving nothing to the imagination. See your tits almost falling out of the bikini top - tits that were covered in Sunghoon's cum not even 24 hours ago. They see your pretty face, your long eyelashes, droplets of water sliding down your soft skin. 

Heeseung and Sunghoon don’t realize the gravity of the situation yet, right now all they think about is how they’ve hit the jackpot because you’re in the same hotel as them. Right now, neither of them knows who you are besides the girl they’ve fucked the night before. 

“Y/N!” Liza screeches, “get out of that pool right now, you look ridiculous!” 

Linda gets up and grabs one of the towels next to her, throwing it into the Pool. She wants you to cover up, needs you to cover up. 

It is then that Sunghoon and Heeseung slowly understand. Your name. They have heard that name before. Time and time again. 

“Mum made me pick my ugly little sister as my maid of honor, Hoonie, can you believe her?” 

“Ugh, Y/N, called today. Wanted to congratulate us. Can you believe her? I bet she is so jealous, Hee, she could never get a man to stay. She’s just… too…. ew.”

You’re their sister. Their little sister they have nothing good to say about. 

You. The girl from last night. The girl who potentially could become the best fuck of both of their lives. 

If they had been able to, they would have looked at each other. But they are too mesmerized by you getting out of the pool with the towel wrapped around your body, or at least around your upper half. They can still easily see your legs, your perfect thighs, the little bikini bottom that does almost nothing to cover up your ass, can see the bruise that is a clear indication of what happened last night. It’s safe to say they are both growing harder in their trunks. Relatively bad timing. 

“Sorry, I told you I would be at the pool,” you mumble once you get out, grabbing for your stuff.

“I don’t think so, I would have remembered that!” Liza hisses, her arm sneaking around short hair. So, he must be Heeseung. Heeseung who had his cock buried inside of you mere hours ago and whose cum was most likely still inside of you. 

“Just go back upstairs,” Linda shoos you away with her hand and you let your eyes wander to mole next to her. Sunghoon, then. Sunghoon who had been craving a mouth around his cock, Sunghoon who had his cock in your mouth, who had cum all over your exposed tits. 

Your body heats up and you quickly turn around to leave. 

“It was nice to meet you!” Sunghoon calls after you and you swallow hard, not turning back to them before you leave. 

Dinner that night is horribly awkward, to say the least. The fact you’re even allowed to participate is insane. Your parents are delighted to welcome you once you sit down, your sisters and their fiancés showing up a little while after you. 

As it turns out, the two men had insisted you’d join them for dinner. Judging by the way they look at you, you feel like they’d rather have you be their dinner. 

Nothing could have prepared you for this. For the utter want you see in their faces, the utter want you feel in your bones. It makes all of dinner extremely awkward, makes you press your thighs together, shove around your food on the plate because suddenly your appetite is for something entirely different. 

But you know you can’t. The first time, so you tell yourself, was fine because you didn’t know who they were. You even go as far as to blame your sisters for this, after all they had never bothered to show you what Heeseung and Sunghoon look like. 

Now, it’s different. Now you know who they are. And as much as you despise your sister’s, you don’t think you could do this to them. 

… Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Because the second you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and find yourself pressed against yet another stall door, you know you’ve been lying to yourself.

It’s Heeseung, his hands on your hips, digging into the bruise on your side, having you moan in no time.

“What are the fucking odds, hm?” He whispers, his breath hitting your face. You open your mouth to answer, but Heeseung dips forward, his tongue sliding into your open warmth, his lips pressing down on yours. It doesn’t matter what you thought of before, doesn’t matter who he is. Your body is taking over, melting against the strong man, against his chest and arms. 

Heeseung kisses you hungrily, like he has been starving for days. He had wrapped his hand around your wrist and yanked you into the one bathroom stall for men, had claimed you as his for the next few minutes.

“We-we can’t!” You cry out, pushing him away, but Heeseung only grabs you harder, turning you around, your chest hitting the door and a gasp escaping your mouth.

“If we can’t, why are you so fucking wet, baby?” His fingers are inside your cunt the next second and your eyes roll back, hips already chasing his touch. He smirks behind you, shoving your dress up with his free hand. Your backside is a sight to behold and he licks over his lips before landing a slap to your right ass cheek. You squeak. 

“I guess bathroom stalls are just our thing now, aren’t they?”

Just that this one is spacier. You’re pressed against the door that leads right into the open restaurant. You can hear the people outside, can hear the sound of cutlery meeting plates, of glasses clinking. 

“Hee-Heeseung, yo-you’re my sister’s fiancé!” You tried again, even though your hips were already bouncing on his fingers. Heeseung chuckled lowly.

“Don’t tell me now you care about the fact I’m in a relationship. It seemed like yesterday you couldn’t wait to get this taken cock shoved into your pussy.”

He’s not wrong. You bite down on your lip and turn slightly, looking over your shoulder into his dark eyes. God, he’s beautiful.

“Please,” you pout then, and his smirk comes back, his nimble fingers freeing his rock hard cock. You lean back against the door, your cheek pressed against the cold wood, your hands on either side of your head. Your pussy is dripping down his fingers and once he removes them, you’re already impatient to feel his huge cock fill you up.

Wiggling your hips, he lands another slap on your ass before shoving his cock into you, both of you groaning once he bottoms out. 

Then, he doesn’t show you any mercy. One of his hands sneaks around you, pressing down on your mouth to keep you quiet as he fucks you right into the door. He is panting, staring down at the way his cock slides in and out of you over and over again. His other hand fishes for his phone in his pocket, halting his thrusts for only a second to concentrate on opening the camera on the phone and hitting record. 

“Need to bring Hoonie something to jerk off to later,” he grins as he continues to fuck you, your moans getting numbed only by his hand. He just feels too good. Feels like no other cock you’ve had before. He’s big, wide and so god damn veiny. Every vein seems to drag along your walls, seems to push you closer to the edge. Your eyes are rolling back as your ass bounces off his hips, as his thrusts become sloppier with every second. He needs to cum soon and so do you. There isn’t much time for this, no time in fact. But he’s been craving you, and so has Sunghoon. Thank all the luck in the world for him to have won that rock, paper, scissors round. 

“God, you take it so well, you’re such a good little whore, aren’t you? All ready to go when I need to get my cock in you, fuck.” 

Heeseung’s words make your pussy spasm around him, his next groan deeper than before. He changes the angle slightly, fucking into you faster and harder, his orgasm getting closer with every little squeeze of your pussy. 

“Gonna cum so hard into your pussy, gonna have you sit at that table with my cum trickling into your panties.” He breathes into your ear and bites into your earlobe after, causing you to triple over the edge and cum hard around his cock - taking him right with you. 

He curses as he fucks both of you through your orgasms, his cum filling you up, warming you from the inside. 

Planting kisses on the back of your neck, Heeseung pulls out, watching his release drip out of you. 

“I could get used to this,” he says and puts your panties back into its rightful place. 

It doesn’t stop there. And it also doesn’t stop with Heeseung. But while Heeseung is more daring (coming to your hotel room at night, sending you pics of his dick after a shower, telling you to send him a voice note of you cumming), Sunghoon decided to take his time to make his move. You know it’s coming. You just don’t know when. 

Heeseung is like a wild animal - he can’t get enough of you. He wants to have his hands on you, his dick in you and his cum all over you as many times as he can. But the week only has seven days, and you only have four more to go until this whole thing is over and they are married to your sisters. 

Four days until you won’t be around them all the time, four days until Heeseung won’t be knocking on your door at two in the morning asking you to get on your knees. He fucks you like he owns you, like he knows your time is limited. It is, after all. He leaves marks where it is hard to spot them, kisses you in places no one has ever kissed before. 

Yes, the nights with Heeseung are special and steamy and perfect - and yet you wonder where Sunghoon is in all of this. You see the way he looks at you, and you did get a dick pic from him the night you and Heeseung fucked at that first dinner, courtesy to him seeing the video Heeseung took of you. And that is the thing, Heeseung films you. He films you when you’re on top of him, when he’s behind you, when you got his cock down your throat, when you’re bouncing up and down his cock. All of it goes straight to Sunghoon, all of it leads to Sunghoon cumming all over himself in the bathroom and sending you a picture of it. He never leaves his room, though, never does anything about it.

It’s day minus three til the wedding and you’re at the beach with everyone. The other maid of honor has arrived, and so have the two best men. Jake and Jay, they had introduced themselves as and judging by the way they were looking at you… they knew exactly who you were. If you weren’t so busy with Heeseung, you’d gladly have slipped into one of their rooms at night. 

You’re laying on your towel, happy to have everyone around you be busy with something that isn’t you. Your book is in your hands, the words getting more and more raunchy, your thighs pressing together. Perhaps this isn’t the best place to read smut, but it’s not like you have any control over when these scenes happen in the book. You just know every word hits you deep and has you biting down your lip. Even with the soreness still left between your legs from last night's visit, you feel yourself growing wetter with every sentence. 

“In broad daylight, sweetheart, really?” 

The voice makes you flinch, your book flipping closed as you turn around, spotting Sunghoon standing right above you. He is wearing a slight smirk on his lips and you feel your cheeks heat up. Not just because he caught you with your book but because he’s standing there in nothing but his trunks, a cup of iced coffee in his slim hand. His chest is defined, so are his abs. His arms look strong, toned, like they could throw you against a wall and hold you there. You swallow the lust that is daring to come up.

“What do you want?” You hiss, sitting up and looking at him. 

He hasn’t really talked to you much. Too busy giving you looks and pretending like he didn’t when your sister or parents or any other already arrived wedding party approached him. 

“What would I want?” Sunghoon asks back, tilting his head. The view he has from up here, your tits sitting in your bikini top, looking as delicious as they always did. It takes all in him not to drag you up and take you in front of everyone. 

You snort and roll your eyes, turning back to your book.

“Well, if there is nothing you want, you can leave me alone.” 

He watches you, how you lay back on your stomach, how you open the book and look for the page you just read. Licking over his lips, he roams his eyes over you. At this point, he has lost count of how many times he’s looked at you. How many times he has waited in the bathroom at night for Heeseung to send the videos, the pictures. As much as he was jealous, he enjoyed looking at you as he used his lubed up hand to get himself off. Except… for the last two days. He hasn’t sent you a picture of him with his cum all over his torso or thighs for two days because he simply hadn’t let himself reach climax. He’s been edging himself for all this time, waiting for the right time to unload all of his seed… preferably on you. 

It doesn’t feel like enough. Just getting to watch you through a screen, imagine what you would feel like. Your mouth, he remembers. Vividly. Your pussy… he can only wonder. Only guess when Heeseung sends him those videos or when he tells him before they head down to breakfast. 

Letting his eyes wander over your frame, your neck and back, your hips and ass, your legs… 

“Get up.” He says. You don’t move. 

He growls.

“I said,” his voice is low and warmth gathers at your core, “get up.”

It is when you still don’t move, Sunghoon feels his patience run thin. He places his iced coffee on one of the tables next to the lounge chairs.

Then, he is quick to pull you up, both his hands on your hips, a yelp coming out of you as he skillfully gets you on your feet. You stare at him with wide eyes and your mouth agape. Oh… your mouth. He has to restrain himself - already half hard in his trunks. Sunghoon looks around, sees his fiancé in a conversation with your mother. An idea flashes before him and he smirks slightly, alarm bells ringing in your head. What is he planning?

Not even a second passes when he grabs his iced coffee and spills it all over himself.

“God, watch where you’re going!” He yells, making all of your family members and their friends look at you. This little shit. 

Linda immediately jumps to her feet.

“Look what you’ve done!” She screeches and you press your lips together, acting the part of the guilt ridden sister.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You defend yourself, but your sister just shoots you a deadly gaze. 

“My darling, are you alright?” She is looking at Sunghoon now at his coffee stained self. He shakes his head.

“I really wanted that coffee. And these are my favorite trunks,” he sighs, “come on, Y/N, you’re gonna get me a new coffee.”

“I can get you a new coffee, babe!” Linda tries, her fingers wrapping around Sunghoon’s arm. It fills you with a sense of triumph when he moves out of her grip.

“You didn’t do this, honey. She did. Go back to your lounging.” He says it to her, but looks at you. And, god, you don’t think you’ve ever been more aroused in your life. 

It starts in the elevator up to his room. His hands are on your tits and your tongue is in his mouth. He groans when he feels you grabbing around his cock, hand swiftly inside his swimming trunks. There are no words being exchanged, only moans and sighs and gasps as he presses you against the wall, your kisses getting deeper and heavier by the second. 

Sunghoon has never wanted anyone as much as you right now. His cock is begging to be freed, leaking into his trunks. His thoughts are spiraling, a part of him just wants to push those skimpy bikini bottoms to the side and just fuck you right here, no matter if someone could walk in at any second, the other wants to take his time, bring you to his room and explore every inch of you. 

When the elevator stops at his floor, he drags you out, glad no one is around to see as he pushes you against the wall next to the now closing elevator doors, his hand immediately moving between your legs. He moans at the wetness already there. Well aware you haven’t been in the pool or the ocean today. 

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking wet.” He mumbles against your lips, pulling them into yet another heated kiss just as his fingers slip underneath your swimming suit, making you whimper. Your hips roll against his hand and he bites down on your bottom lip, fingers getting closer to where you want them, need them, the most. 

But he pulls away, grabbing your hand and leading you to his room, getting the keycard out of the small pouch he had in the pockets of his trunks. You watch as he opens the door, watch as impatience and need radiate off him and another feeling of triumph, of confidence overcomes you. He is actively choosing you over your sister. He wants you not her. 

Once you’re inside and the door is closed, you find yourself stuck between him and yet another wall, or in this case, door. His first mission is to get your tits out, his hands losing the strands of your top, the little fabric falling onto the floor a second later. He licks over his lips.

“I’ve been dreaming of these, baby,” he whispers, “come on, get on your knees.”

You do as told instantly. Dropping to your knees, eyes focused on him and only him. On how he now shoves his trunks down slowly, his cock, hard and red at the tip, springing free for you to admire. Your pussy starts throbbing. How badly you want him inside you, how badly you want him to fill you up with his cum, joining Heeseung’s from last night. 

“Open up, slut.” Again, you obey. Your mouth drops open, tongue sticks out and Sunghoon’s cock twitches at the sight. This is what he has been dreaming about. Your mouth around his cock, your perfect heavy tits naked and oh-so ready to be painted like that first night. 

“Good girl, so, so obedient.” He moves closer, right hand around his cock as the left is leaned against the wall, helping him keep his balance. Slowly, he brings the tip of his cock to the tip of your tongue, watching as you lick over it immediately. His eyes don’t leave yours when he begins shoving it in, his chest heaving. There is a good chance he might not last long, but he won’t let you leave this room without his cock having been inside you and if that means going again right after his first or second load. 

You take him like a pro. Feel him slide down your throat, hitting the back of it before going even deeper. You choke just slightly, breathing through your nose. He stops only when he is fully buried, his breath getting heavier with every passing moment.

“You take it so fucking well, what a good little whore.” Sweat is pooling at the top of his forehead, his knees about to give in. He begins to move his hips slowly at first, but when you tap his thigh, he takes it as a sign to go harder. And, shit, does he go harder. Throwing his head back as he brings both his hands to your head, holding it in place as he thrusts down your throat over and over again. His balls hit your chin whenever he moves to bury himself again, his moans and groans nothing but music to your ears. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” He groans in pleasure, pulling his cock out and the next thing you know there is cum all over you. Your tits are full with his seed, your neck, your chin, your face. You gasp slightly, staring at him with your lips swollen from the roughness of his movements. He breathes hard, hand around his cock to hold it steady as waves of his pleasure make more cum land on your tits. 

“That’s right, look at you, fuck,” his eyes are glossy watching your tits covered in his cum, his cock not losing any of it’s hardnes even after the amount of cum he just left on you. It’s not hard to notice. Your fingers scoop up a bit of it, sucking them clean and not letting him out of your sight. Sunghoon feels like he might have reached heaven. 

“You’re so fucking filthy,” he grumbles, pulling you up by your arms and crashing your lips against his again. He pulls you to the bed and pushes you down, watching your cum-covered tits bounce as you fall. You know what he wants and you slightly sit up, your elbows behind you, watching as he moves on top of you. His eyes are still so full of hunger, of need, of pure and hot lust. 

His cock slides between your tits, his hands pushing them together around it. Then, he begins to thrust again. Just like he had wanted back at the restaurant. Fuck your tits covered in his cum, add a little more. 

You feel like the luckiest woman on earth with him like this. Using you to get off, his cock fucking your tits like a madman, whimpers and moans and groans, his head thrown back as he enjoys the feeling. It is even better than his imagination. Every second feels like he’s gonna ascend any moment now. His skin is tingling with desire and he wonders if it’ll ever stop. Right now, he thinks, he could probably go on for hours, for days. Just you and him and your tits and your mouth and your pussy. 

When he looks down again, sees the way you look at him, see the way his cock looks sandwiched between your breasts, Sunghoon can’t help but cum again, less than before but still enough to cover your chest and neck, adding even more paint to the already perfect canvas. 

Exhaustion is starting to spread through his bones, but he’s ignoring it. Instead, he pulls you up with him again, kissing you hard, fingers now finally finding their way into your bottoms again. He shoves them inside you immediately. 

“Sunghoon!” You cry out, fingers gripping his strong shoulders as he places you on his lap, straddling him. He fucks you with his fingers, hard and fast. Your pussy squeezes them, your arousal dripping onto his bare thighs.

“So, so wet. So fucking filthy with my cum all over you. Tell me, baby, are you a whore?”

“Y-Yes!” You squeak. He grins wickedly, adding a third finger to the two. You cry in pleasure, bouncing up and down on his long, perfect fingers.

“So eager to be called a whore. Fucking a taken man, two taken men. Your sister’s men. Aren’t you ashamed?” He breathes into you ear and you moan again, nails digging into his skin.

“N-No!” You answer and he laughs quietly, thumb now pressing down on your clit. You feel the first tears starting to pool in your eyes.

“Oh, but you should be. Such a dirty fucking whore, full of cum, getting her pussy fucked by her sister’s fiancés fingers,” He chuckles, “and soon his cock.”

You reach the edge just then. When he promises you his lengths, when he tells you how ashamed you should be. As if you don’t know. That’s what makes this whole thing so ridiculously hot. 

He fucks you through your orgasm, kissing your mouth again, tongues slashing against each other in a heated fight. You need him to fuck you. Right now. And as if he could read your mind, Sunghoon picks you up, hands underneath your thighs, lips never leaving yours and brings you to the spacious bathroom. 

First, he fucks you in front of the mirror. Makes you watch yourself, getting fucked like a cheap whore by his sister’s soon-to-be husband. He makes you lick his cum off his fingers, thrusts them as deep down your throat as his cock is penetrating you. 

Your pussy might be the best he’s ever had. The second he was buried inside of you, he knew he was done for. Knew this couldn’t be the last time he did this. Every bit of you, he wanted for himself. He even thought about asking Heeseung to back off, which he knew his best friend never would. Not with you. Not when you were this perfect. Fulfilling their every need, letting them do with you whatever they wanted. 

When he gets you in the shower, he washes the drying cum off of you softly. He’s still inside of you, his still not fully satisfied cock. You squeeze around him, throb around him. You need him to do more, he knows it as well as you. But he’s gentle. Uses a sponge to get every bit of his seed off your body, his lips kissing your cheeks, lips, nose, neck and breasts. It’s almost too soft for you. 

This is supposed to be about nothing but sex. He is supposed to fuck you, call you names while you’re at it and then disregard you. Instead, he’s being gentle. 

That is, until the door outside opens and your sister’s voice interrupts the softness. It makes room for yet another wicked grin and Sunghoon’s first thrust inside of you for minutes. Your hand flies to your mouth covering the pathetic whimper that would have come out. Sunghoon’s eyes sparkle.

“Hoonie? Are you in the shower?”

He begins to thrust again, his hands on your hips, staring into your eyes as he gives you his fucking all. Your eyes roll back.

“Yes, darling. Your stupid sister managed to get me all sticky with that coffee!”  

Your pussy fluttered at the words. He grinned wider.

“Oh, like it when I call you stupid?” He whispers into your ear, cock twitching rapidly as he bites into your neck, hips showing you absolutely no mercy.

“Ugh, I am so sorry about her! She’s not just a klutz, she’s also insanely dumb. I can’t wait to never see her again after this is done.”

Perhaps these words would have hurt you, if Sunghoon wasn’t railing you like the god he was. Every thrust was smooth and yet hard enough to make your toes curl. He made quick work to lift you up, your legs now wrapping around his middle as he continued to fuck into you, moaning into your neck to drown out the noise. 

“Yeah, she is a real piece of work,” he finally replied, his eyes staring into yours as he smirked. 

“No wonder she can’t get a boyfriend! Who would ever want to be with that?” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, pressing his body closer to yours, kissing you again, his tongue licking sensually over your bottom lip. It makes a shiver run down your spine. 

“Anyway, where did she go? I didn’t find her in her room.”

Sunghoon reluctantly parts from you.

“No clue. She got me a new coffee and stormed off like the big baby she is.” 

He grabs your tits again, squeezing and massaging, nipple between forefinger and thumb, leaning down so he can put it in his mouth and suck and bite down, your hand on your mouth pressing down harder. 

You explode around him. Squirt like a fucking porn-star, liquid shooting out of you and down his legs, mixing with the water of the shower. Sunghoon’s knees are once more about to give in. He moans against your lips, hoping Linda didn’t hear and at the same time also hoping she did. Your climax makes him cum for the third time that day, his hot semen filling your spent pussy, painting it white like the clouds. 

“That, she is indeed,” Linda laughs, “anyway, we’re gonna go get dinner in the city, baby. I’ll be at Liza’s room, love you!”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer and Linda just leaves. You feel like no words were even needed to understand. 

Once you’re sure Linda is gone for good, Sunghoon and you step out of the shower. It’s quiet between you, quiet and somewhat heavy. You don’t like it one bit. You’re quick to grab your bikini and put it back on, relieved to know you most likely won’t find your sisters back at the beach where you’re headed now. 

You don’t turn around again when you leave the bathroom. And you also don’t expect Sunghoon to say anything. Still, when you open the door to leave, you feel just a tiny bit disappointed that he doesn’t hold you back. 

How utterly pathetic of you. 

Heeseung doesn’t come for you that night. You wonder if it’s because of Sunghoon and decide it most definitely is because of Sunghoon. 

Yet, the slightly younger male doesn’t come to seek you out either. 

Tonight, it’s just you. 

And perhaps, you think, that’s just how it’s supposed to be. 

to be continued...

header & divider credit to the wonderful @wongyuseokie <3

[singukieee]

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 1) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ editor's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

A Place Called Home by @agustdakasuga

Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

Accidental Friends by Erakun06

Meet Bangtan, international superstars, the pride of South Korea, the love and hope in the dark of many lives, the role model and celebrity crush of so many people, and a group of people you often stumble across in your day to day life. You become acquaintances, slowly become friends, and- that's it. You are in a platonic friendship with Bangtan. Let me say it again. clears throat PLATONIC. Or One day, you meet a member of Bangtan, the next day, another, and another, and another, and one day, they become a group of people you often stumble across in your life. They become your acquaintances. Then your friends. Then your source of comfort, just like they are the source of comfort of millions of people in the world. What you didn't expect is that you become the same to them. It's inevitable. You are friends.

🗯️ a theme that I don't find much of, and this one was excecuted quite neatly I'd say

Ace For Hire by tokki-maknae

Who is Ace? Besides being the deadliest hitman on the market in the underground, whose really under the hood? The answers simple, well for you at least, because you are Ace. When you're not busy blurring yourself into the background noises of school, you were making a killing in the underground, both literally and figuratively. For years now Ace has become an infamous name among the other gangs and holds the reputation of being lethal and untouchable. But that all changes after a slip up that causes you to attract the unwanted attention of one persistent seven member gang. A gang that's been dying to know, who is Ace?

🗯️ badassss

At Your Service by @untaemedqueen

In which Yn is looking for an escort to accompany her to her nightmare ex and ex best friend's wedding, only to ended up falling in love with him.

Baby (you complete us) by @purpleyoonn

Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches. Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Back Home by AlexLorchan / @alexlwrites

Secretly, he was selfishly hoping that you didn’t age well. Dealing with a small crush was easy enough when he was young and knew next to nothing about girls, when you were just a cute albeit slightly weird girl he had a soft spot for. But he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if his feelings came back with a vengeance while you were living together. God, he would probably lock himself with Jungkook until you went away. OR The one where, after living abroad for years, you move back to Korea and your old high school friend Namjoon offers you his place to stay while you get settled, casually forgetting to mention that: a) he still had a massive crush on you. b) he lived with six other guys.

🗯️ crack fic! my fave category and this one makes me giggle in both funny way and butterfly-in-my-stomach kinda way

Beauty of Love by @imnotlauriane

When you cross eyes with your soulmate, you get flashes of memories that have yet to happen. You can't see the same memory as the other and it can be either good or bad. It's not always terrible, but a thing is for sure. No matter what you do, it will happen. But are things always what they seem to be?

Between The Bloodshed series by @agustdakasuga

🗯️ this series... I just love. plot is super neat, relationship doesn't feel forced, etc etc

❶ Between The Bloodshed

Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that you would have to leave your life behind and build a new one.

❷ Everything Between Us

They left you hanging, they broke your heart. You didn’t get your happily ever after. But now they’re back and they’re searching for you to make things right. Could you look past the betrayal to take them back into your life and back into your heart?

Beyond The Stage by Alysheart

Alexis was going through the days simply. She was a college student in Florida, working towards her degree. When she scored tickets to the BTS concert in Korea, she didn't hesitate. She never expected to be soulmates with the seven idols.

Bound by Blood by PurpleQueenie

In a world where vampires and humans have to co-exist, where the line between tolerance and animosity blurs, how can you ever expect to get your happily ever after when your soulmates hate your very existence?

🗯️ love all the details, the slow burn, gosh just so good

Boyfriend For Hire by @remedyx

Unsatisfied with your life was an understatement. Being under the thumb of your father can have that effect. He wanted someone capable of running the company, but you wanted to pursue your passion. Countless unwanted blind dates and the threat of losing your freedom drives you to seek help from a group of individuals you'd least expected.

Breakthrough by Alphathyx

"My dreams haunt me like past memories that never existed" The Memory Dive, an invention that allows the user to dive into anyone's memories just from the collection of their DNA. Made by Professor Kim Seokjin, he created this device for the worlds secret service to solve mysteries that the ordinary field agents are unable to. With seven agents, ranging from ex military, to a university professor, college student and even a criminal, only these seven are able to use this machine to extract memories of others. They are also the only people that know how to escape it. Discover through their eyes of uncovering the darkest truths of the world, through the minds of victims.

🗯️ this one's super neat plot with complicated and technical world, just so good

Bright Colors and Loud Soulmates by Mostmouse

You resented soulmates, the whole damn concept. It just wasn't your thing, and you couldn't help but feel jealous of those who were born without soulmates, who could see the world as it was intended to be from birth. When you run into your soulmate, you're determined to stay in your own sphere of the world. Focusing on you. But, because nothing is simple in your life, it turns out he's one of seven - better yet, your seven soulmates are the globally famous band BTS. Because why wouldn't they be? OR you learn how to let your soulmates past your carefully crafted walls, and they’re more than happy to show you what a loving and supportive relationship should look like.

🗯️ a funny and cute one! (with extra h0rny characters lol)

BTS Office CEO AU by @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue

You work for seven CEOs who have called you into their office due to a complaint

Can't Wait To See You Again by AlexLorchan / @alexlwrites

The one where Jungkook develops a huge crush on a Youtuber he found after falling into the rabbit hole of his recommended videos. Unbeknownst to him, you were also recommended to his hyungs. Unbeknownst to you, all across the world seven idols were slowly falling in love with you.

🗯️ I just love the concept of the boys being fanboys :3

Choco Bun by @nunchiimagines

When you moved to Korea after finishing college to continue pursuing latte art and baking, the last thing you were expecting was to open up your very own coffee shop under BTS Corp, Korea’s biggest entertainment service company for idols, models, singers, and more. Thanks to your hard work, creativity, and approachable personality you managed to become friendly with some pretty big named individuals as well as up and coming talent. As exciting and fun as it was for you, you slowly began to realize how much your 7 bosses weren’t particularly fond of this, acts of jealousy, pettiness, and aggression poking through in the most unsuspecting of ways. But what could 7 big named dragons want with a little foreign bunny?

Combined Beings by @numinousher

You are bullied on a constant because korea’s beauty standards do not fit girls on the heavier side. the bullying gets worse once a ceo is attracted to you and he mentioned you to the other 6.

🗯️ minus the bullying elements, this story is like a comforting sweet cloud

Comfort by http-lostforever

Hybrids have been introduced into society for a handful of years now, the fighting for their rights is still happening but doesn't look promising. But when one girl finds a hybrid in danger she jumps at the chance to help, yet what she didn't know was how upside down her life was about to become. But a word of advice, not everything is as it seems.

Could We Be Together Someday? series by BTS_Mommy / @babyboy-bangtan

🗯️ mann Idk what to write lol. this is another one that I've re-read thousand times, bcs some of the boys started as fanboys then became clingy friends. also yn's so supportive I just lovee.

❶ By Chance

A misunderstanding gone viral puts you on BTS's radar, which leads to a series of events that finally culminate with you meeting them for the first time.

❷ The Moments in Between

As you become close friends with BTS, you begin to realize that the feelings you have for them are slowly turning into something you're not ready to deal with. Unbeknownst to you, the same is happening to them.

Crave by sweetinsanityy

The boys don't do well with being controlled, but for their group, they'll bite their tongue and put on a smile for management. Yet when you, a new little rookie, stumble upon them, they're like a pack of hungry wolves. Or, the boys are all Doms and they want you to be their perfect little sub.

Cursed Fate by PurpleQueenie

The universe has designed soulmates- someone that completes you. But what happens when you don't have one but seven? And all you want to do is run in the opposite direction when you see them...

🗯️ queenie's stories are just so good, you should check them all out! this one also has such great details and writing.

Deep Down by sleepingbearandbunny

Jae, unlike everyone else, has nothing against the hybrid species. She likes being alone, where she is safe from ridicule and her controlling father. When a group of hybrids save her from some trouble, fate brings them together once more.

🗯️ a harsh and complecated world this one, so they went through a lot together and I love that!

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

[spideyjimin]

timing (series) | jjk

⤷ falling in love with the right person at the wrong time but what happens when the time becomes right?   

all parts contain mature content | 18+ | warnings listed in each part

the taglist is closed !

playlist: love me too much | escapism | love will remember | fix you | my time | use me | film out | seven | like crazy | valentine | sand

wrong time 

↳ meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company. At that exact moment, he realizes that the two of you fell in love at the wrong time but is now the right time?  

right time 

↳ following your reunion with jungkook, getting back together seems to be the right thing to do however everything is different. jungkook is a father, running the company you’re working for, and there are still things to be solved. nonetheless, it can’t erase the tremendous physical attraction between you. is it now the right or wrong time?

perfect time

↳ right or wrong time? actually, was there a time at all for you and jungkook? following your heartbreaking conversation with him, you feel that you were loved but not wanted. however, would it be worse than feeling wanted but not loved? nevertheless, there’s a deep feeling inside you telling you that it’s far from being over with jungkook. will this mean that one day it will be the perfect time?

[maybank5]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤 (𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭)

pairing ⤜ yn x jj

summary ⤜ you and jj have never gotten along; sworn enemies since childhood. so why is then, when he shows up with bruises, you want to burn the entire world down for this boy?

tags and such: abuse, mentions of abuse, fluff, comfort, walks on the beach, mutual crushes, jj calling you 'mama'

a/n ⤜ needing some comfort jj fics in my life right now, and i'm sure i'm not alone in that. enjoy! also this was supposed to just be a little drabble, but she kinda took on a life of her own. not complaining though lol

song inspo ⤜ any kyla la grange song

word count ⤜ 4k+

JJ Maybank - the bane of your existence. Ever since he had trampled your sandcastle on the playground back when you were seven, you couldn't stand him. And one trampled sandcastle had set the stage for ten years of torment at the hands of this boy. He seemed to revel in making your life miserable. He wouldn't be JJ Maybank if he wasn't pulling your hair or teasing you or shoulder-checking you in the hallway. And you wouldn't be you if you didn't put your hands on your hips and glare at him, shouting after him a scolding, "Oh grow up!" that was only ever met with that laugh of his that seemed to bounce of the cinderblock walls of the school halls.

You had come to realize sometime around sophomore year that you and JJ Maybank were destined to be enemies. You found yourself looking forward to the school day, to see just how he'd try to fuck with you, and to scold him and hear that damn laugh. Your friends couldn't understand it; why the two of you always seemed to seek each other out, despite your mutual hatred. "You wouldn't get it," you'd say with a shrug. JJ Maybank was your mortal enemy, but you honestly couldn't imagine your school day, your life, without him in it.

JJ is no stranger to a fight. He's always getting into something with the kooks from Figure Eight. It's not out of the norm for him to show up to school with a busted lip or black eye. He always shrugs it off, brags about how the other guy "looks much worse." You roll your eyes and shake your head. He's never seriously hurt though, so you don't worry too much. It's not like you lose sleep over JJ Maybank. Still, you can't help the relief you feel that shoots through you like a drug whenever he laughs off the bruises or black eyes.

But today is different. Yesterday, JJ wasn't in school. Not that unusual of an occurrence. But today, JJ shows up to school with his face a galaxy of purples and yellows. Your heart sinks to your stomach as if weighted with a lead anchor. This wasn't just the result of a spat between a Pogue and a Kook. He looked like he'd been jumped and you spend the entire morning following him with your eyes. You want to go over and check on him, press your palm to his cheek, and ask what happened, make sure he's okay. But that's not you and JJ. Instead, you hug your books tighter to your chest and follow him down the halls with your gaze. All you want to do is run after him, check on him. It makes no sense. You know he probably just got in another fight. JJ was always stirring up some type of trouble. But he didn't have the usual laugh or smile this time. His eyes looked almost hallow, broken. It made your heart feel heavy in your chest. You could barely focus in class, all your thoughts drifting to JJ Maybank and those haunting bruises. They were like ghosts in your head.

At the end of the day, JJ was swinging his backpack onto his shoulder with a wince, about to hop into his truck with you surprised yourself. Instead of catching a ride with your friend Sarah, you find yourself running across the parking lot to his beat up, rusted old truck.

"JJ!" You call.

His head whips around, brows furrow when he sees you. Then, that lazy smirk spreads painfully across the snagged and scabbed lip, "Y/N," he says in that lazy, bemused kind of way of his, that let's you know you're in for something, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

You want to scold him like you would normally. Instead, you freeze. You don't know what to say that doesn't include some sort of spat or dig. Instead, all you want to do is pull him close to you and hold him in your arms and it makes no damn sense.

"You weren't in school yesterday," you settle for saying.

"Astute observation, Sherlock."

Your stomach flips a little, excitedly like it does before a fight with JJ Maybank; like you were born for these little interactions. Instead, you take a breath and try your best to push through the wall he's putting up. "I just...I wanted to make sure you're okay?"

"When am I ever not okay?" JJ asks, pushing the blonde hair off his forehead with a practiced flick of his hand.

You sigh. He's deflecting. Of course he is. When does JJ Maybank ever take anything seriously. You don't know why it bothers you so much, but you need him to know. You need him to know that you care, that you're in his corner. You'd fight against him a thousand times over, but when he shows up looking like this, all you want to do is fight at his side and burn down the world for him. You know it doesn't make sense, but when did anything regarding JJ Maybank make sense.

You decide to meet him where he's put you. "Just seen you prettier, that's all," you say with a shrug. If he wants to deflect and be snarky, you can do that too. If snark is his comfort zone, you can meet him there.

JJ tugs the corner of his bottom lip between those feline-like teeth of his. He's amused, and it makes you happy to know you made him smile. Or rather, JJ's version of a smile.

"You worried about me, darlin'?" He drawls.

"If someone roughs you up too badly, who do I have to fight with?" You ask, and JJ laughs. Your stomach dips with the weight of the butterflies that have filled it.

JJ pushing his hair back again, smirk still playing on his lip, "Don't worry, darlin', nothin' can stop me from fighting with you. It's my favorite part of my day."

You cross your arms, fighting the smile on your face as you shake your head. "You're impossible," you say.

"And you love it," he says. You don't realize right away that you don't deny it.

"So...need a ride?" He asks, glancing behind you as Sarah's car pulls from the parking lot. "Cause it looks like yours just left."

Sarah. She's always trying to get you two alone. For some reason, she has it in her head that all your fighting is just camouflaging your "real feelings." You think Sarah needs to stop reading so many fanfics in her free time.

"Of course," you sigh, "Remind me to give Sarah Cameron an earful when I get home."

JJ just chuckles and unlocks the truck, tossing his backpack in the backseat. "Get in," he says. You don't argue.

You toss your bag in the back next to his before joining him in the front seat. Sitting together on his bench seats of his old truck feels almost intimate. This is the closest you've ever been to JJ before, and it's happening when you're alone. Both your brain and stomach feel as if they're on rollercoasters.

JJ backs the truck out of the school parking lot. "So, where to, Y/L/N?"

You tell him your street and he nods. He rolls down his window and with practiced ease, takes out and lights a cigarette one handed. You try not to wrinkle your nose. This is his truck and he's being kind enough to give you a ride. You aren't going to be a pain about a little cigarette smoke.

JJ begins to drum his fingers on the wheel, his right knee is bouncing jitterijngly. The cigarette between his fingers is doing nothing to calm his nerves, and you fight the urge to rest your hand on his knee.

"So," you say after a beat, "You gonna tell me about the sick fight you got in that led to....that," you wave a hand in his general direction.

JJ takes a drag of the cigarette, the air in the truck suddenly feeling thicker. "Not much too tell. Mouthed off, the usual."

You nod, "We both know that mouth of yours is gonna get you in some type of trouble one day."

JJ smirks, but it doesn't quite reach his eye, "Yeah," another drag of the cigarette, "But fuck, I wish hadn't been so drunk out of his mind to forget he was wearing that damn class ring."

You freeze. "What?"

"Dad," another drag, "That's who I've got to thank for these sick bruises. Dear ol' Dad."

"JJ..."

"It's fine," he quick to say, quick to shrug, "I've got it under control. It's usually not this bad. But last night he was completely hammered and I should have known not to..."

"No, JJ," you're quick to say, "Nothing you did is an excuse for this. Whatever you did, you didn't deserve this. This is on him, not on you."

JJ sighs, tightens his hand on the wheel, "Whatever," he says, another shrug, a slight sniffle, "It's just a few more months, then I'm eighteen and I'm out. It's fine, really Y/N. I've got it under control. And usually when he gets like that, I can hide out at John B's place, lay low a bit."

"JJ, you shouldn't have to..."

"It is what it is," JJ says, another shrug, "It's just the roll of the dice. The hand I've been dealt. I learned a long time ago it does nobody any good to run around feeling sorry for yourself."

"Does anyone know?" You ask, you feel like your stepping out onto a frozen lake, unsure of the weight of the ice.

"John B, his dad. They do what they can. No one blinks twice at a kid from The Cut with a few bruises. I've got a home, I'm fed. That's more than most of the kids from the broken homes 'round here. Besides, if anyone did come sniffin' around and decide to take me away, you know what that means, Y/N? That means being taken to the mainland, to a group home that'd probably be worse than where I am now. And I won't have John B or Big John or the surf to keep me sane. So I lay low, try to stay out of his way. It's fine, Y/N. I'm fine."

Your hand hovers slightly before you press above JJ's knee, right where the khaki cargo shorts cut off. His skin is soft, tanned. You half expect him to jerk away, to smack your hand away. Instead, he tenses under your touch, his eyes draw to you. You give him a soft smile.

"It's okay not to be fine, JJ. You don't have to be fine all the time, and you certainly don't have to be fine around me. It sucks, and I'm so sorry this is what you go through. You've never minced words with me before, so don't start now. It fucking sucks. But you aren't alone, okay? I'm here for you too."

"Mind if we make a pit stop first?" JJ asks.

You shrug, "I've got nowhere else to be."

You're sure Sarah is probably glued to her phone wanting every detail. You can make her stew a little bit.

JJ pulls the truck over at the drive-in burger place, Storm's. He orders two strawberry milkshakes.

"If you don't like strawberry milkshakes, then I'm kicking you out of this truck right now," he says, paying the carhop the $5.50 and handing you your Styrofoam cup.

"If you don't like strawberry milkshakes, I might never speak to you again," you say.

"Damn it," he snaps his fingers with a grin, "Nearly had an out."

You give his shoulder a shove and JJ laughs. It feels good to hear him laugh, to be the cause of it. You want to make him laugh over and over again.

JJ takes the truck out towards the beach. You sit in silence as you watch the waves, sipping your milkshakes. Silence has always made you feel awkward, on edge. This silence between you feels almost comfortable. Like neither of you have to say anything, and that's okay.

Still, you can't help but ask, "You have somewhere to go tonight?"

"Been staying at John B's," JJ says, "Dad'll cool off in a few days. Sober up. He's predictable like that. Hell," JJ laughs humorlessly, "I'll bet this weekend he'll pull up with an ice chest of beer and cans of tuna and have a whole weekend out on the boat planned just the two of us. That's as close to an apology as Luke Maybank can muster."

"JJ..."

"It's fine, Y/N. Like I said, I've got it under control. A few more months and then I'm out. I've even got money saved. John B and I are gonna rent a place close to the water. It'll be sick."

"Sounds nice," you say. "This is nice," you wave your milkshake out towards the sea just ahead, "I don't come to the beach enough."

"You don't? How do you survive?"

You can't help but laugh at how genuinely concerned he sounds. "Not everyone needs the salt water to survive, Jage," you say, "I guess I just never grew up with it. My parents are definitely more inside people. And sure we go to the beach sometimes. But I guess I just don't go out of my way to come here."

"That's just sad, Y/N. One of these days, I'm gonna have to teach you to surf." The comment seems to take the both of you by surprise. "Uh..." JJ's hand goes immediately to the back of his neck.

"I'd like that," you're quick to say, and it seems to relax him just a bit.

"Really?" That lazy grin is back.

"Mmhmm," you nod, "No one's ever gone out of their way to teach me anything like that before. And even I know you're one of the best surfers on the island."

JJ beams with pride, sits up a little straighter, "Damn straight." He takes another slurp of his milkshake, then lifts his chin towards the water, "C'mon," he says.

"Where are we going?" You ask as he's already bailing out of the truck.

"Just c'mon," he says.

You can't help but laugh, leaving your milkshake behind. JJ takes your hand in his and pulls you towards the beach. The wind is kicking up as evening approaches, and you walk along the sand, breathing in the brine of the salt water. JJ's still holding your hand in his, and you can't help but think it belongs there, in his.

"This right here," he says, "is why I stay where I am. I can't imagine being away from the ocean, the surf. John B says I have saltwater for blood and maybe he's right. But this right here, Y/N, is my favorite place in the world. It's paradise. Everything else, all the bullshit, it's worth it to be here. There's no where else I'd rather be."

"It is beautiful," you say, "I definitely need to come out to the water more."

"I'll bring you."

"You better."

JJ smiles, tightens his hand around yours.

The two of you walk along the beach, enjoying the sounds of the waves splashing, the gulls cawlling from above. Some little kids are building sandcastles as you walk past.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" You ask, "I was building a sandcastle in the sand box on the playground and you trampled right over it."

"That was not the first time we met."

"Yes it was."

"Oh no it wasn't. C'mon, Y/N, do you really not remember?"

"I remember you trampling my sandcastle is what I remember."

JJ shakes his head, "We met before that. Nursery school. About two years before then."

"What?" Your brows furrow as you try to think back that far.

"It was your first day and you were crying and clutching that stupid teddy bear of yours. You didn't want your mom to leave you. You sat off by yourself crying all morning. I went over and shared my Goldfish with you cause I felt bad."

"Oh my God..."

"Yeah," JJ runs a hand through his hair, watching the sand kick beneath his feat, "And then that day on the playground, I was so excited to see you again that I ran over and...accidentally stomped on your sandcastle. But by then you were so livid that I'd ruined it and started yelling at me, and well...I've always been kind of a shit about things and so I started kicking it worse, just to get a rise out of you. I'd have done the same thing to John B. But seeing you get all...squawk like that."

"I do not squawk."

"Oh you absolutely squawk," JJ laughs, "And thus began our beautiful rivalry as we know it."

"You're a pain," you say, but you can't help the smile on your face.

"You love it though."

"Do not."

"Do too!" JJ gives you a gentle shove with his shoulder, "You absolutely start half the shit that's happened between us. You go out of your way to track me down and yell at me for something."

"I do not do that!"

"You absolutely do that. And you drag poor Sarah long with you and she stands there and tries not to laugh as we go at it. If I didn't know better, Y/N, I'd say you actually enjoyed our fights."

"That's not true! You are such a menace! You get on my last never all the time and..."

"Uh-huh," JJ's smirk deepens, the dimple forms in his cheek, "Keep tellin' yourself that, Mama."

The term of endearment makes your stomach tighten. You can feel your cheeks heat, and it's not from the sun.

"Don't call me that," you say.

"Why not?" JJ asks.

"Because," you can't think of a single valid reason. "That nickname is for a significant other," you finally say.

"True," JJ nods, "And that's definitely not you, right?"

"Absolutely not," you say, your hand gives his an involuntary squeeze, "In your dreams, Maybank."

"What do you know about my dreams, Y/L/N?"

You give him a shove, and JJ laughs.

"I like that," you say before you can stop yourself.

"Like what?" JJ asks.

"Your laugh."

You swear his cheeks go a shade of pink when you say it.

"No one likes my laugh," he says.

"That's not true. John B likes your laugh, I see the two of you. He's always trying to go out of his way to make you laugh. And I like it too."

JJ blushes deeper, "You can't just go runnin' around sayin' shit like that," he says.

"And why not?"

JJ just sighs, lifts his eyes to the sky like he's saying a silent prayer and shakes his head, "You just can't, darlin'."

The two of you walk a little further, to one of the rocky hills. JJ still holds your hand as the two of you climb up to sit on the top. He pulls his knees to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs. "Love coming here," he says, "Best place to sit and clear your head when the noise of everything else gets too loud."

"It really is beautiful," you say, "Thank you for bringing me."

"Haven't had a chance to come out here since the other night," JJ says, picks up a rock and turns it in his hand. "Went straight to John B's after."

You finally reach a hand out, cup his cheek in your palm, "I'm so sorry, JJ," you say, wishing your gentle touch could somehow erase the pain from his flesh. You realize in this moment that JJ Maybank should only ever feel gentleness and softness. It breaks your heart to think he's felt anything else.

"Nothin' to be sorry for," he says, overlapping your hand with his, "But thank you, Y/N."

"Make you a deal," you say.

"What's that?" JJ asks.

"Any time things feel like a lot, you can come find me and bring me out here. I need a surf instructor after all. Any time you need to clear your head and need an excuse, I'm here."

JJ smiles, nuzzles his cheek into your hand, "Thanks, Y/N." He takes your hand in his and runs his thumb over the back of your knuckles, "Can I tell you a secret?" He asks.

"Sure."

"I think that's why I pick fights with you like I do. Fighting with you...it's fun. And it pulls me out of my head. Distracts me."

You can't explain it, but his words make your stomach dip. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," JJ blushes again, ducks his head, "I just...it's fun. Isn't it?"

"It is," you admit, "I like fighting with you."

"But after all these years...." he sighs, "...sometimes I can't help but wonder..."

"Wonder?"

"If there might be something better...better than fighting."

The butterflies are back and you tilt your head to meet his eye, "Like?"

"You're my distraction, Y/N. Every bit as much as the waves are. You keep me grounded. It sounds stupid....but the reason I even still come to school at all is because I look forward to fightin' with you. I'm just sayin'....what if there was something more than fightin'."

"Can I tell you a secret?" You ask. JJ nods. "Sarah gives me so much shit for it, but fighting with you is one of my favorite parts of the day. I do look for you and go out of my way to yell at you for something. It's...it's fun, getting under each other's skin. I can't imagine you not being the fixture you've become in my life, JJ Maybank. I don't think I want to."

JJ takes a breath, the blush is back on his cheeks. You give his hand a squeeze.

"What would you want with a guy like me?" He asks and your heart clenches in your chest.

You let go of his hand and turn to face him, sitting up on your knees. "JJ Maybank," you say, gently scolding, "Don't you even think that. Not for a second."

"Look at me though," he says with a broken sigh, "I'm fucked up, Y/N. Just look at my face..."

You interrupt with a press of your lips to his cheek. JJ freezes, you hear the softest little gasp escape. You press another kiss to another bruise, and another. The bruise on his cheekbones, the cut above his eyebrow, the purple blooming along his eyesocket. JJ is almost shaking as you press a final kiss to the cut on his swollen lip.

"Jesus, Mama..." he says, and it sounds like a prayer.

"That a better distraction than fighting?" You ask with a smirk of your own.

"Fuck yes," his voice is thick and wrecked as you sit back, card your hand through the blonde bangs sticking to his forehead.

"I think so too," you say. "What do you say we retire our title of mortal enemies, hmm?"

"Yes please."

You can't help but giggle at the desperation in his voice, "What other title should we give each other then?" You ask.

JJ rolls his eyes, the smile on his face big enough to split him in two, "You're really gonna make me say it?"

"Mmhmm."

JJ shakes his head helplessly, "Alright, fine. You win. Girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend," you say back.

JJ ducks his head to hide the blush staining his cheeks. His smile has somehow grown even bigger. Then, as if finally getting a handle on himself, he reaches up and pulls you towards him, hand at the nape of your neck.

"You know what this means, right?" He asks, lips hovering above yours.

"Tell me."

"I get to kiss you any time I like."

"Well you god-damn better," you can't help but grin.

JJ chuckles lowly, before capturing your lip in his. The kiss is unlike any other kiss you've ever experienced; those sweet, shy kisses on doorsteps after dates to dances and diners. This is different. There's a desperation there, a hunger, and a hope all in one. JJ nips at your lip as the two of you pull apart.

"Fuck," he says on a sigh.

"Better than fighting?" You ask again.

"So much better."

You press another kiss to his cheek, "I wish I could kiss away every bit of pain, JJ."

"This?" JJ points to the bruise on his cheek, "Aint nothin'. I'd walk through fire and back for one kiss from you."

"I'd never ask you to," you say, cupping his cheek in your palm again. "You know what this means, right?"

"What's that, Mama?"

"I get to kiss you any time I like. No walking through fire required."

"You're letting me call you Mama," JJ says, reaching a hand out to twist a strand of your hair around his finger.

"Boyfriend privileges and all that," you say.

"I like the sound of that," JJ grins, "Tell me, darlin'. What other privileges do these new titles come with?"

You shake your head with a laugh, "You'll just have to see."

The sun is starting to set and JJ sighs, "Guess I better be gettin' you home."

"Pry should."

"And Big John is grilling out for us tonight, so I should get back for that."

"You gonna be okay?" You ask.

"Of course," he says, "I'm JJ Maybank. When am I ever not okay?"

You sigh and shake your head as he holds out his hand and helps you to your feet. "Besides," he says as the two of you start the walk to the car, "I get to look forward to seeing my girl tomorrow."

You can't help but blush. JJ holds the truck door open for you and you slide in. He goes around to the drivers side and hops in, turning the key in the ignition.

"Do girlfriends get AUX privileges?" You ask, reaching for the cable hanging down by your feet.

"Fuck no," JJ laughs, snatching it away, "I've heard the shit you and Sarah blast from her convertible. Girlfriend or not, Taylor Swift is not touchin' these speakers."

"But...girlfriend privileges."

"Girlfriend privileges nothin'," JJ grins, backing the truck out, "Girlfriend privileges mean I'm pressin' you up against this truck and kissin' you breathless before I tell you goodnight. It does not mean blasting Taylor Swift in ol' Daisy Mae."

"You named your truck Daisy Mae?"

"What?"

"That's more egregious than any music I could play from my phone."

"Don't you be talkin' shit about Daisey Mae, okay?"

"Stupid ass name," you say with a smile.

JJ lifts his middle finger at you with a smile equally as big.

"Alright," you say, "question."

"What's that?"

"Just because we've retired the title of mortal enemies doesn't mean we still can't fight, right?"

"Not the fun fights anyway," JJ grins, "Those fights I can always just shut you up by kissin' you."

"Menace."

"Always."

You shake your head, laughing and lean your head against his shoulder.

"Oh I am in so much trouble," he says, handing you the AUX cord, "You've already got me wrapped around your finger. You always have."

You press another kiss to his cheek, taking his hand in yours. You pull up These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding.

"And you've got me wrapped around yours," you say.

JJ grins, lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles. The two of you drive the rest of the way to your house in silence, your head on his shoulder and Otis' voice crooning from the crackling stereo. JJ Maybank was officially now no longer the bane of your existence, and maybe Sarah Cameron hadn't been that off-base after all. All you knew in this moment though was you'd spent the last ten years being driven crazy by JJ Maybank, and you'd gladly be driven crazy by him the next ten.

[beforetimes]

if there's one thing that can be said about peter maximoff, it's that he's always got his ear to the ground when it comes to gossiping. it's like, his thing by now. if anyone wanted to hide their secrets from him they'd be fresh out of luck because despite how much he darts around and lets himself trail off sentences in the middle of them to zip off and do something else because he got tired of slowing himself down in the middle of it, he is surprisingly good at being quiet when he needs to and being at the right place at the right time. he has a very good record when it comes to this stuff, so he knows it's not bullshit when he's figured out that his dad—which, like, wow, his dad?—is in the dating scene. he knows it. what's more of a surprise is that he's gotten all strung up with charles xavier, of all people.

which, like, peter doesn't hate the guy. he doesn't! he was just under the impression that ten years ago—wow, ten years really fly when you really think about it, that day feels like forever ago and yesterday at the same time—that charles and erik hated each other. so he guesses he missed the memo where they kissed and made up after punches were thrown in the pentagon's elevator by a drenched, half-sober man who looked like he would laser erik to death with his eyes the way scott tries to do to peter about four times a week without even taking off his glasses in case he'd accidentally make it stick. though he couldn't, because, like. peter is very fast. duh.

so. the evidence behind his claims goes as follows (of course he collected evidence, peter says to ororo, affronted, when she asks if he even had proof. what was he, an ameteur?):

1. erik keeps taking lunch breaks.

it's not like he didn't before but he was definitely less likely to. when they were rebuilding the x-mansion after it blew up and he was their heaviest lifter, it would be rare to peel him away from all the construction. erik was actually weirdly good at building, which peter didn't really expect for some reason because he was always under the impression all the guy did was like. terrorize people. or kill them. or twist spoons into pretzels just because he could. but no, nowadays he's been taking more lunch breaks than ever and it's a very pointed difference, even though they've already finished construction a few months ago and erik didn't really have a reason to stay. unless the reason to stay was so he could be with charles! (scott stares at him with that unimpressed, laser-eyes look again so peter flips him off and continues past the sputtering).

2. he's also like, weirdly nice now?

which isn't to say that peter didn't think terrorists couldn't be nice. which sounds bad but erik might be the one exception. anyway, when peter saved him about a decade ago he remembered the guy being kind of an asshole when he met up with charles for the first time and yes he knows that it puts a damper on his dating theory, jean, but he's not done yet so wait a second. anyway, he was less of an asshole when he came back to help fix the mansion after trying to kill the whole world so peter guessed he kind of swings on a pendulum between good and evil and whatever they get on that day is like the worlds most important and demented coin flip. that's besides the point. so when he was back here to help fix things up he stayed out of everyone's way and he wouldn't do much to bother anyone because in peter's opinion erik didn't want to scare the little kids who knew of his reputation even if they didn't know his face. but, like, now he's been here a while it's like a complete 180. peter caught him teaching a seven year old how to tie his shoes the other day. a thirteen year old shortstack was rocking back and forth on her heels while erik got her a book from one of the higher shelves of the mansions newly refurbished library (who knew that once you saved the world there would be at least one or two places willing to donate books on top of charles' infinite wealth?). it was like stepping into the twilight zone. but it was real. like, peter saw the hint of a real smile on erik's face one time when he saw the man looking over the grassy field of the school. it freaked him out a bit.

3. charles knows how erik takes his coffee

this is admittedly one of his weaker arguments from the lead-in, peter concedes when he gets blank stares from storm, jean, scott, and kurt. like, even kurt! he didn't think that was a look he could pull from that kid. anyway, peter says that it's pretty damn obvious that erik has a whole thing when it comes to charles being in his head. he's heard from someone who heard from a friend who eavesdropped on a teacher who overheard charles and raven after a faculty meeting that the helmet erik wore all the damn time when he was evil was to keep charles from getting into his head. which explains a lot. anyway erik has a complex about charles getting in his head. but he doesn't wear the helmet now and peter heard charles one morning when he was getting ready to start the day off by eating at least two and a half boxes of poptarts. he heard the man say something like coffee? and he heard erik reply with a hum and charles went how dyou want it and erik said don't you know already? and peter had peered in then and seen erik gesture to his head. and he wasn't defensive about it at all and charles had this really weird look on his face that peter spend a few seconds examining in hyperspeed before getting away from the whole thing because the vibes were so weird. but yeah. erik let charles into his head just for some coffee after spending like two decades trying to keep charles out of his head. which has to mean something (and peter knows he's hooked them now because even scott is leaning in like he's interested and that kid would pretend he had a ticklish throat and needed a water bottle more than anyone else in the immediate vicinity if peter was on fire in front of him).

4. all the chess boards

like, they're all over the place. it's excessive. there's a different game set up in the library, on a table in the garden, on charles' desk in his office, on erik's desk in his office and his bedroom. and no one touches them because no one likes fucking chess except for cute little ten year old jenny because her grandfather taught her before she accidentally turned his house into clouds and seventeen year old thomas who's a prick because he thinks he's more distinguished than anyone ever because he came all the way over from europe or whatever the fuck and peter can't see either of them sitting down to play one game, let alone multiple. and he knows chess is charles and erik's thing because he saw the board in erik's room one time—(you were in his room? ororo asks with a very deep look and peter nods and goes yeah we've been bonding lately but it's kind of one sided because it's more like me showing up and him tolerating me until i leave but like it's progress!)—and peter asked before erik could get a chance to politely kick him out and erik actually paused and told him that chess was a shared hobby of theirs from a few years back and get this, peter says conspiratorially, leaning forward as the rest follow suit. he smiled. like a full on real smile with teeth. and peter was so taken aback he was like that's sweet man and then left before he could be kicked out. and now he knows that the only people who play chess in this mansion are dickhead european thomas and sweet little jenny and charles and erik, all the games all over the place have to be charles and erik's which means they spend a lot more time together than he thought before. and they plan to spend it together because a lot of these games are half finished, like they leave and come back every few days depending on how much free time either of them have. (and now everyone looks thoroughly hooked because the evidence peter brings is good because peter is a hell of a gossip, dammit. he won't have people questioning his skills when it comes to this. he was made to be at old little women's tea parties where they talk about their evil husbands doing war crimes. that's what he guesses goes on there, anyway, considering his first gossip session with his mom went that way)

5. charles is happier now

and jean frowns at this one right off the bat but no one really says anything because the way peter said it was soft and kind of less jokey than the rest of his tirade. because it was something he wasn't really expecting? because charles wasn't sad per se, he was always happy in front of the kids and he didn't try to drag them down with his own moods and ever since the guy got sober he's looked a hell of a lot more put together than when he showed up on peter's doorstep, tired and hungover and just plain heartbroken. but even in that small time frame between defeating apocalypse and the mansion being rebuilt, he was just... sort of happy. happy he lived, maybe. happy the world made it and his mansion was being rebuilt so he could home all these poor kids without anywhere to turn to that understood them. but wow, the stark difference between a charles that was kind of okay and a charles that was happy was like night and day. he was just so much brighter now that it took peter aback sometimes. he hummed under his breath whenever peter walked by him in the halls at a human speed and those old withered plants in his office started to stand taller, as if someone finally started watering them. and hank stopped staring at charles the way he did when peter met them a decade ago—waiting for something to give. so, yeah, charles is definitely happier now when no one even knew he was unhappy at all. and it all started when erik started taking lunch breaks.

and jean and scott and ororo and kurt are looking at him less like he's pulling their legs and more like he's made a point that makes them a little sad which wasn't the goal but he gets it. charles is like, jean's dad in a way, and the rest really look up to him despite only being here just shy of a year, so to hear this guy that they always saw as this strong bastion of optimism and goodwill was just sort of sad all the time right under their noses was probably depressing the hell out of the four of them. but it was the truth. and peter knows it was because he can practically see them recalling how the professor was before he got there and before he made up with erik.

so yeah. peter is right. erik and charles are probably dating and now four more people know that charles is happier than he was before and erik is too. and privately, peter thinks maybe if erik is happy to find family in charles, he'd be happy to find family in peter, too. but that's something for another day. he's just suddenly aware of the fact that he's so glad these guys who were so bent out of shape and angry and irritated and heartbroken and assholeish ten years ago are looking at each other like the sun took up custody of both their smiles or whatever.

anyway i'll see you guys later, peter tells them, and races off before they can say anything. he's already halfway across the school and in his room playing pac-man before any of them can blink.

[simpxxstan]

best friend's older brother vernon

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the members' headcanons in the event too as i post them through this month!

warnings: mention of cheating (not vernon or reader)

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who is two years older to you, but doesn't feel older at all

he may have lived in the world for two years more than you or your best friend, but you don't see where the years except the fact that he's taller than you

it's clear that vernon needs someone to take care of him. someone to show him which stop to get off at on the subway. someone who feeds him snacks when he's skipped lunch because he was too busy riding his bicycle. someone to push his hair back and make him wear a beanie when he's long due for a haircut. someone to remind him to take a certain book to class because he's bound to forget.

and mindlessly, unconsciously, you've taken up that role. of course, his sister and his family members are there, but you get involved too. partly because you spend so much time with his sister, but also because you like doing this. somehow, seven-year-old you felt very grown up taking care of a boy, so you go with the flow, and even after eleven years, the habits have stuck.

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who introduces you to his relatives as his 'girlfriend'

ten year old vernon learnt the day before that a girlfriend is a female friend you want to marry. hence, he finds no problem in introducing you to everyone as his girlfriend. consequently, he absolutely does not understand why you smack him on the back and go all red and pouty, and everyone in the room begins laughing at him. he didn't say anything wrong, did he?

"why do you want to marry her, vernon-ah?" his mother asks him later. "because she's the nicest girl i've ever met. and she knows everything about me, and i know everything about her." his mother laughs, "that is quite true. well, you can't go about calling anyone your girlfriend, okay? it's only something you can do later, when you're older, and the girl also agrees to being your girlfriend." "why can't i do it now if y/n agrees to it?" "because that's how it is, nonie."

vernon doesn't understand why it is like that, but he lets that occasion. it doesn't mean that the joke doesn't persist. and even at the age of twenty, when you meet his relatives at his birthday party, they all call you his girlfriend.

of course, vernon understands what it really means now, and he also realises his mistake back then. even you don't mind the joke anymore, and just go with it. but it's wrong- he should correct everyone and put an end to it. and yet, he doesn't. does he, maybe, like people referring to you as his girlfriend?

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who grows up to be a fine specimen of the male sex

and you, along with everyone else in the neighbourhood, are awed by his curly hair and chiselled features. he doesn't let everyone get close to him, owing to his shy nature, but you're fortunate enough to still remain in his closest circle, even after he graduates from school and joins a music production course in college. the age gap between the two of you feels lesser and lesser as you both grow up.

when you join the same college as him, he becomes your guardian angel in college. from giving you tours in the college to getting you involved with societies and the joys of dorm life, the two of you are again always together. except, his sister enrolled in a different university so unfortunately, you have to bear a long-distance friendship now. it is a comfort, still, that vernon is right here.

the roles are slightly reversed now. although vernon's still lost in daily life- losing track of time and place often and hoping for your guidance- he takes a more proactive role in supporting you in other, important matters.

like how he drives you to the interview of your first internship. you leave the office crying, and he pulls you into a hug. two weeks later, when you receive an acceptance offer letter, he hugs you close again. "i had said so," he tells you when he buys you ice cream as a treat.

like how he ensures you get in touch with the top seniors from your major so that you can prepare your notes well. "how do you even know him?" you ask him after he introduces you to one such senior. "oh, i see him around." "is he your friend?" "no, but he's not not my friend either."

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who also sees you fall in love for the first time in college

it's with a senior he introduced you to, youngjae, and he regrets the decision completely. he had introduced you to him because of his academic merit, but beyond that, he knew youngjae was up to no good. a playboy through and through- he would break your heart the second the chase dies out.

he ends up spending lesser and lesser time with you these days because of how you go everywhere with your new crush now. "has he asked you out yet?" vernon raises a brow at you when the two of you meet again in front of the dorms. "not yet," the blush is clear on your cheeks, as your eyes lit up. "but i'm sure youngjae will, soon! we've been texting a lot, nonie. i must thank you for introducing him to me, of course." you giggle, but vernon's face doesn't reflect your happiness. he's still confused about how to feel about this entire affair.

rationally, he should not be confused. this is protectiveness he feels. he felt the same way towards his sister when she started dating her current partner. it's worse in this case because he knows your heart will be broken. so it's just his instinct that's making him more protective.

but it's not just protectiveness, he knows. he knows it when you're going to parties with youngjae on your arm. he knows it when you laugh too loudly at any of youngjae's stupid jokes. he knows it when people start referring to you as youngjae's girlfriend.

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who is the person you run to when you find out that youngjae has been sleeping with someone else all this time

vernon doesn't ask or say anything. he simply sighs when he sees the tears streaming down your face, and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug against his chest. and he lets you cry into his sweater, all snot and wetness.

but it's the best thing he could do for you, and you wouldn't trade this for anything else. you know he understands in the silence, and you don't leave his side all night, as he plays soft jazz on his phone and you both sit on the bed in his dorm room in silence. his roommate also surprisingly doesn't question it, the two of you sharing earphones and sitting on the bed without saying anything, all night.

the next morning, you finally come to terms with your grief, having overcome the shock, and tell vernon everything. thankfully, he doesn't say, i knew it. he only says, "he never deserved you anyway. such a fool."

when you go to the cafeteria for lunch, as both your and vernon's classes start after lunch that day, vernon's hand is around your shoulders. every person in the cafeteria turns to look at the two of you, even youngjae. he steps up to you to talk to you, but you don't even look at him and walk straight past him. the two of you finally reach a table where your friends are sitting, who you'd texted earlier about the situation. they all sympathise with you, consoling you and genuinely making you feel better. but the best medicine is the weight of vernon's warm hand on your back throughout lunch time.

soon the entire college gets to know about the situation. it's comforting to know that no one's standing up in defense of youngjae and everyone's isolating him for his shameless actions. when vernon walks you to your classroom after lunch, youngjae confronts you again, forcefully making you stop in your way. when he sees that his pleas and apologies aren't melting you in any way, his eyes flare up with rage, and he looks to vernon instead.

"and what the hell are you doing? why are you walking around with her like that?"

"because she's my girlfriend, that's why."

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who takes everyone by shock by his declaration

of course, this new addition to the ongoing situation spreads like wildfire through all students also. and it has the same effect it has on them as it does on you. vernon almost laughs at the way your cheeks flare up and your lips purse into a pout. it's hauntingly similar to the incident eleven years ago, except vernon knows he's not saying it without understanding this time.

"what was that for?" you ask him later. "i had to do it. you know he would beg you to come back if i'd moved away." "well, i would be strong and resist him." vernon's glare makes your words falter. "are you sure?" "vern-" "okay just play along with it for a few days. will help you forget him faster."

you spend that night thinking about the events of the day, and you finally realise that the burning sensation in your chest is not sadness. that seems to have run out totally after your crying session with vernon last night. then what is this feeling?

you don't get time to yourself the next few days- when everyone's bombarding you with where when and how you and vernon got together. "it- it just happened," is what you say. and vernon doesn't clarify it either- so it just goes along.

and everyone actually accepts it immediately. no one gives it a second thought, no one needs a longer explanation. "oh we kinda saw it coming," one of your friends say. well, you certainly did NOT see it coming.

apparently, him playing along with it means he has his hands constantly on you, either looped through your arm, or a touch at the small of your back, or his fingers weaving through your hair. it also means him spending every moment outside class with you. soon, he becomes a permanent feature in your friend group, and your and his friends merge to become a big group sitting together at lunch, and creating an endless cacophony.

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who tells you that you can end this play-acting after a few weeks and the initial gossip has died down

but every weekend, his heart thumps in his chest as he anticipates when you'll tell him that you want to end the ruse now finally and you're sick of him. he knows he's putting on a very bold face in front of you, but inside? god, he's all nervous putty. he knows he's taking big risks- risks which are more likely to not pay off than actually succeed. but he can't not take the chance when it's right in front of him.

for these fifteen days, vernon lives his dream into reality. before this, he had no idea it would make him so happy to be your boyfriend. even if it's a fake relationship. is this what he's been yearning for all these months when he's seen you going around with another man? is this why he detests youngjae even more than he deserves for his faults?

he doesn't want to think too much about why he's so enthusiastic about doing this. he doesn't want to understand why his heart is fluttering all the time and he's losing focus on everything- even things he's usually very concentrated in, like music or films. he doesn't want to think of why his heart is thumping in his chest whenever the weekend comes around.

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who invites you over for movie night to his dorm on sunday

"you'll break up with him now." you tell yourself, looking into the mirror, even as your body moves with a mind of its own. you're wearing a silk dress that's completely not appropriate for a friendly movie night. you're even tying up your hair in a ponytail because vernon once said that hairstyle looks good on you.

"you will draw it to an end for your own good." that's what you tell yourself, but what is your own good? kinda blurry at the moment, because a big part of you doesn't want to let go of vernon. you know that ending things today will have an impact on your closeness- but you can't figure out why it is that you're so worried about letting go of vernon. is it because you don't want to lose a friend, or is it because you've found your ideal man in him?

because one thing you can't lie to even yourself is how perfect vernon would be, hypothetically, as a boyfriend, especially to you. he knows everything about you- your coffee order so that he always knows what to bring from the cafeteria, your menstrual cycle so that he can remind you to buy pads when your week's due, your workout routine so that he knows exactly where to massage that night while the two of you chill.

he's everything youngjae could never dream of being. you're in fact glad youngjae did cheat on you. you've been so blind for stooping down so low when you have had a perfect man around you for all your life. and yet, you don't know if these feelings are just the butterflies from his attention through this make-believe relationship, or whether you've really lost your heart to him. and in fear that it's the second, in which case you're going to regret the steps you plan to take tonight, you make haste to vernon's dorm room to tell him to break up.

"you will tell him to end this right now." you tell yourself when you knock on his door. but when he opens the door wearing his old, ratted t-shirt that you've seen him wear since high school, his hair messy over his forehead, and his pink lips plump, you forget all about breaking up and instead just go in with him, taking his hand as he helps you sit down on his dorm bed and sets up the movie on his laptop. when he gets under the blanket, his body unimaginably close to yours, the exposed skin of your legs graze against his hands and you can see the way he gulps.

"you have to tell him now, y/n!" your brain screams to you, so you blurt out. "vernon, i have something to tell you." vernon moves his hand away from you and sits up. "me too. but you go first." he doesn't break eye contact, and you can see the way he's biting his lip and fidgeting with his hands. symptoms of nervousness, you recall from your psych class. why is he nervous? "no, you go first, nonie."

he raises his eyebrows for confirmation and you nod. then he gulps before answering, "i like you, y/n." "what?" "i know i- fuck, i swear i'm not a creep. i swear i didn't start this fake ruse with you because i like you. hell, i didn't even know then that i liked you." "then, when?" " i realised it last night. but i think it wasn't even like a epiphany per se. just a realisation.... and a way to label some feelings that have been occupying my heart recently."

dear god, help me. you cry out silently for help, because fuck, he looks so earnest right now. so soft, so genuine, his words stunted with how fast he's speaking and his eyes a little dazzled in that on-brand look only vernon can pull off as cute. "nonie, are you serious?" he nods his head fervently. "i am. and i know this may be overwhelming, so you don't have to respond to me right now. but if you do want to reject me, you can tell me right away, i won't be-"

thinking about best friend's older brother!vernon who didn't see this coming in any of his mind's versions of how his confession would go

but it's certainly the best version when he feels your lips press against his. you pull away almost instantly, and he asks, "y/n?" you don't reply immediately, your eyes cast downwards to your hands. "y/n-ah? did you mean that?" after a long pause, he finally hears you squeak back, "yes, nonie. i- i wanted to try it and see what it felt like."

oh. so it was an experiment. well, that's manageable- although vernon doesn't think he'll ever forget the way your lips feel. "y/n-ah if you want to leave, you can. you don't have to-" but you don't let him continue. you kiss him again, pressing your wet, warm, soft lips against his own, and his hands find their way towards you. one of his hands settle on your cheek, and the other on your waist, and he pulls you nearly on top of him as he kisses you back hungrily.

they're all chaste kisses, until you open your mouth slightly and he takes the opportunity to let his tongue roam inside your mouth. but he underestimates you, you quickly suck on his tongue, making him moan out as he pulls back, breathless. "y/n, you've gotta tell me what this means. i can't keep kissing you without any clue of your feelings."

"do you need me to say it aloud, nonie?" "yes? please!" you pout slightly, as if offended by his demand. but then you whisper, "i like you too, nonie. i just wanted to see if my suspicions are real or just a figment of my imagination because you're so perfect." "perfect? har-" "no, you are. and that's not a recent discovery of mine. i've known it forever. you are too perfect to be real, vernon."

and that does it for vernon. the floodgates of his heart burst open, and all the feelings he'd been suppressing for so long flood into his system. it makes him warm and tingly all over, and he leans it to cup your cheeks. "you're the one who's perfect for me y/n-ah. i wasn't wrong all those years ago, you know. you are the woman i've always wanted to marry." you giggle shyly and hide your face in his chest, and vernon knows he's found his soulmate in you.

[syndrossi]

October Trick or Treat Fill #8: Jaehaerys receives word of the twins

This time we have a trick! Which in this case means "something that wasn't on the prompt list." Though it could mean something entirely different next time it appears as a poll option, so be warned...

This fill won't make much sense unless you've read Fill #7 aka the first part of Regnal AU aka "consummation babies" as it's a continuation of that, where we get Jaehaerys's POV of receiving Baelon's letter sharing the happy news.

x~x~x

Father,

I bring joyous tidings from Runestone: our family has grown by two! After a day’s brave labor, my good-daughter brought forth a pair of screaming babes, furious at being parted from the safety and warmth of the womb. Though the birth came one moon early and they are yet small, their lungs are quite healthy indeed, and the maester assures me that they are as healthy as can be.

Your heart would swell to look upon them, as mine has. The name of the eldest is yet to be decided, as it is a matter of fierce debate between Daemon and Lady Rhea, but the younger is to be Aemon. He is the very image of my brother. I swear that I can see him in his eyes—not only the color, though that too they share, but the manner in which he studies me, as though he knows things that I do not. His hair is strikingly light of color, just as Aemon’s, though the maester has reminded me that it will yet darken, perhaps to something more like mine own. Selfishly, I wish otherwise. 

And the eldest! Daemon is insistent that he should be Baelon, after my own name, while Lady Rhea favors Hubert or Rodrik, after her great-uncle. He reminds me of Rhaenys at birth, hair dark like his mother’s. His eyes are as a field of lupin clouded by storm, and it is already plain to all that he has a warrior’s heart. If his brother is out of his sight for but a moment, he howls his displeasure at the world, whereas his brother Aemon howls whenever he is given into Daemon’s arms, much to my son’s dismay.

Words cannot describe how it is to hold them. I feel as though a piece of my own heart has been returned to me, and I am certain that they are destined for greatness. You may discount such as a proud grandsire regarding his first grandsons, but it is more than that. You will understand when you meet them.

All of this to say that it is my intention to remain at Runestone beyond the original moon I had planned. I beg your indulgence in this matter. The realm is peaceful and we are at the height of summer, in a time of plenty. Should that change, I shall of course hasten back to your side, but Daemon is yet young to be a father, at only seven-and-ten. Although he has made great strides as a husband since the wedding, I would offer him whatever guidance and wisdom he needs. It is quite a thing, after all, to suddenly find oneself a father twice over!

Please give my love to Mother and sweet Gael. They will adore the twins as surely as I do. I only wish our family could meet them sooner! It is the maester’s recommendation that they remain at Runestone until their first year has passed. As such, I seek your guidance on the matter of dragon eggs for their cradle. I know that you have forbidden that any be taken outside of King’s Landing, but it is good for the health of the babes. I implore that you consider it. If you are amenable, I shall gladly fetch and safeguard them myself.

Your son, etc,

Baelon

Jaehaerys leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a celebratory sip of wine as he reread the missive from his son once more. It was far cheerier in tone than anything his son had written in the years since Aemon’s death, which was heartening on its own. He had hoped that his son’s first grandchild might grant him reprieve from his grief, but his joy at Rhaenyra’s birth had been fleeting. That he had named the younger child after Aemon, however—that spoke to a healing all its own. Merely hearing his brother’s name spoken would on occasion plunge him into despair.

Twins. Jaehaerys looked out the window of his solar, into the warm morning sun piercing through. Was it a good omen, or ill? Rhaella and Aerea’s birth had been heralded as a blessing, yet his sister’s family had come to sorrow and ruin. Aerea’s death—

He set his wine cup down, mouth tightening at the memory of it, even after all these years. It had been a thing of horror, but best not let himself fall into the trap of superstition over reason. He had watched his line dwindle over the years, sons and daughters claimed by death, one by one, to Alysanne’s everlasting grief. The holdfast stood nigh empty, save for Baelon, Gael, and Viserys’s small family.

His sons had given him but three grandchildren, and from them, three great-grandchildren.

For Daemon to have nearly doubled that number was encouraging, and made suffering his grandson’s bitter protests over his match with Rhea Royce more than worth it. Rasher than his father, and with an arrogance not matched in deed. Fatherhood can only improve him.

Would that he could swap Daemon’s success for Viserys’s lack. The match between Viserys and Aemma had been more than fitting, and yielded a great-granddaughter, but his granddaughter had suffered four miscarriages already, which did not bode well for future children from his eldest grandson. And yet it was Viserys who would take the throne someday, after Baelon’s reign.

Even so, the birth of two great-grandsons was to be celebrated. At not even nine moons past the wedding, they could very well have been conceived that very first night. If the gods are good, it is a sign of things to come.

That the children had been born at Runestone was unfortunate. It meant waiting for their presentation to court, though that could also be for the best. He was no stranger to sons who never reached their first name day. But if Runestone’s maester insisted they were in good health, despite the twins’ early birth, then that was encouraging.

I could send Allar to attend at Runestone, Jaehaerys mused. Doubtless a house of Royce’s standing would have a capable maester, but royal children deserved the very best of care. And then there is the matter of the dragon eggs.

There was a reason his son’s letter had taken on a wheedling tone. He greatly misliked the thought of any eggs leaving the care of the Dragonpit or the well-guarded holdfast. Elissa Farman’s theft was not so distant as to have fallen out of memory. There would be those who might expect dragon eggs to find their way to Runestone, and seek to steal them.

If they are as healthy as the maester claims, then they have no need of them. When the babes were old enough to travel, they could be brought to King’s Landing and have dragon eggs placed in their cradle then. Doubtless his wife would petition Baelon every moon to have them brought here.

His eyes fell once more upon the one paragraph that had drawn his attention. I am certain that they are destined for greatness. Baelon was inclined toward excessive pride in his children, as he had been with both his own sons’ births. But for him to insist upon it, to have already found such solace—

Jaehaerys sighed, feeling his bones creak with the motion. Baelon’s dark mood since Aemon’s death had been a matter of concern for years now. His son attended to his duties as Hand with diligence, but little satisfaction. Jaehaerys had begun to fear that the Iron Throne would be the same for him, a burden rather than an opportunity. It was not a fear he would have had a decade before, when his sons had been eager with possibility.

If anything happens to the babes, it could plunge him into despair. In that, his son was far more alike Alysanne than him. Precautions would be needed, but perhaps the prospect of Baelon finding new purpose outweighed the risk of dragon eggs falling into the wrong hands. After all, no dragons had come of the eggs lost before.

He may have his dragon eggs, but I cannot fathom what he is thinking in allowing Lady Royce to entertain such names for a Targaryen child. That must be quickly settled. Daemon’s stubborn pride is of some use here, at least.

Jaehaerys took up his quill. It will be a pain to be without him for a time, but Hightower has been agitating for his younger brother to be appointed to some role within court. He can take this opportunity to prove his usefulness in Baelon’s absence.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Fifteen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut and angst. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : I'm sorry for using the word buttocks. I'm deeply ashamed rn...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Fifteen

Sleeping in until three in the afternoon helped you skip the worst of your hangover, but you didn’t feel any better. In fact you felt like shit.

You hated what you’d done to Matt, hated that you kept dragging Karen into your problems and, most of all, you hated that you kept letting Billy have so much power over you. Something needed to change, you weren’t prepared to carry on that way. You’d reached your lowest point, felt broken in a new and more painful way.

It had to stop.

The idea came upon you slowly, starting as an insidious notion while you were eating breakfast that only seemed to become more insistent as you showered.

You needed to leave.

Every reason you had to stay had evaporated last night. You didn’t belong here with any of them - maybe you didn’t belong anywhere at all. And you were just so so tired of every day feeling so miserable and alone.

Before you really knew what you were doing, you’d stepped out into the penthouse and made your way to the elevator, to the intercom, to your only way out.

The intercom crackled and buzzed far louder than you expected. You hit the button twice and then waited. It was the middle of the day, Lissa was probably sleeping, but impatience got the better of you and you hit the button again. You barely noticed the tears that were rolling down your cheeks, your finger jabbing the button again.

“What are you doing?” 

His voice filled the penthouse and, for a moment, you didn’t dare turn around, you just kept pushing the intercom, over and over, not wanting to face him.

“I said -”

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you finally turned. 

He was right behind you, far too close for comfort. Billy seemed taken aback by your tears and you took that moment of confusion to pull away from him and to start moving back towards your rooms.

“You win,” you told him, barely keeping your voice from breaking. “I’m done. I’m leaving.”

“What?” 

There was hurt in that word, a pain that he didn’t deserve an ounce of pity for but, still, it turned your stomach to think that you might have upset or hurt him in any way. But that was the difference between you and him, you cared about his pain while he barely even seemed to notice yours.

“I’m leaving,” you said again, “I quit.”

“No,” he said like he didn’t understand, like he couldn’t figure out what had led to the decision. 

“No?” You repeated, heartache and anger filling your voice. How dare he try to fight for you now. “You don’t get to tell me no after everything you’ve done to me, Billy.”

“I -” he started and stopped, uncertain which of his many crimes against you that you were most upset about. “I'm sorry. I fucked up, I know I fucked up, but -”

Against your better judgement you stopped dead in your tracks and turned to face him.

“But what? What excuse do you possibly think you have for keeping me prisoner and lying to my friends?” You asked, your voice getting louder each time he made you respond to him. “This is what you wanted.”

“I didn't want this.” His voice rose to match yours, almost frantic. “I just needed time to -”

“What? Find someone else?” You snapped. “Two someone else’s? Did you take them all to bed last night?”

“No,” he answered just as sharply. “I wanted to - before you, I would have - but they aren’t you. You’re the only one I want.”

“Am I supposed to believe that? After all the lies?”

“I just spent the last few weeks trying to get you out of my head, but I can’t.” An uneasy desperation started to fill his voice, every word sounding more fraught than you’d ever heard him. “You’re like sunlight, I - I can’t stop thinking about how you feel and, when I’m not with you, I miss you so fucking much.”

“Stop lying to me!” Your own voice turning just as fraught, hating that he was doing this to you now that you’d made the difficult decision to leave.

You started moving again, getting closer to the door leading to your rooms and, of course, Billy realised that if you reached your bedroom, he wouldn’t be able to follow. When you tried to open the adjoining door, you soon found his hand on it, stopping you. You turned, pressing back against the wood, trying to create some space between you as you glared at him, silently demanding he move.

“Please, just listen to me,” he tried again.

“Why?”

“Because losing you would kill me.”

His confession seemed to suck all the air from the room and, while every rational part of you was screaming at you not to believe him, the way he said it sounded so certain, so raw. 

“You wanted to send me away,” you told him again. “You wanted me to leave.”

“I wanted you to be safe,” he said, his gaze dropping to your broken arm, his voice breaking. “Just look at you, look what I did...”

He’d been so cold and emotionless after it had happened, when he’d first asked you to leave, but hearing him now, seeing the look on his face... you finally understood just how much the situation had fucked him up. It seemed like your decision to leave had unnerved him enough to force some honesty from him.

You couldn’t speak. It felt like all the anger had drained from you and, instead, there was something else inside you, the sort of pain that you couldn’t put a name to. He’d hurt you. Over and over. And you weren’t going to make excuses for him, but now he was finally letting you see how much it had hurt him too, it left you feeling unsettled.

“I thought I could let you go if it meant you’d be safe,” he muttered, his gaze still fixed on your cast.

“And now?”

You watched as he took a shuddered breath, tension coiling in his body as he struggled to find the words. The silence seemed to stretch on and all you could hear was the echo of your heart, pounding in your chest. And you knew Billy could hear it too. 

With every second that passed in silence, you started to lose hope.

“You terrify me,” he confessed in a whisper. “Everything about you, the way you make me feel; it’s all terrifying to me. And I can’t - I don’t understand it.”

You didn’t dare speak, wanting him to continue without prompt or provocation. Anything he said had to be because he wanted to say it. This was his chance to finally be honest and lay all of his cards on the table before you left. So, you waited, barely breathing as he seemed to fight with every rational part of himself to say the words.

“I wish I could stop feeling like this. I wish I could just let you go.”

“Why can’t you?” Your voice broke as you tried to hold back a flood of fresh tears. “You don’t want me, so why keep me here?”

“Stop saying that. Of course I want you. It kills me how much I want you,” he told you, still not looking at you, still staring at your arm, his head hung. “But it kills me just as much knowing that I’ll lose you no matter what I do. Even if you stayed by my side the rest of your life, and I’d still have to watch you grow old and slip away from me.”

Your breath caught, realising you’d never thought of it that way. When you’d told him you wanted to stay, you hadn’t been thinking about the future, about spending your life with him. But Billy wasn’t like you, a year to him would seem like nothing in the grand scheme of things. So would your lifetime. 

“You’ll grow old and die, and you’d miss out on so much because of me. There’s so many things I can’t give you… so many things you deserve...”

The thing that hurt most of all was how he’d obviously thought all of it through, how he’d considered what a future together would look like, but he hadn’t once tried to talk to you about it to find out what you wanted.

“I know I can’t keep you, but it’s just -” he let out an agitated huff “- it’s not fair. You’re the one person who makes this life, this existence bearable, and you hate me. You were the best thing to happen to me and I ruined it. I just wanted a little more time...”

Finally he looked up, his jaw clenching uncomfortably, his dark eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I don’t want to hurt you again but I don’t want you to go,” he almost pleaded. “Please, don’t go...”

It was your turn to talk, the moment to stick to your guns and tell him you were leaving, but the words just wouldn’t come. Tears were still rolling down your cheeks and you hated how much pain you were both in. Finally, he’d been honest and it was enough to make you wish he’d stuck with his lies.

“Please, say something,” he said after a minute had passed in silence.

“I’m tired, Billy,” you confessed, “I’m so tired of everything always being a fight or an argument...” 

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I’ve put you through all of this.”

He dared to reach for you, his fingers brushing over the back of your hand, a ghost of a touch. But that touch was a comfort that you had been desperately craving, a comfort that you’d tried to find with Matt the night before, a comfort that you were finally realising only Billy could provide.

“Everything seems so pointless without you,” he muttered.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you felt the exact same way.

You loved him and nothing was going to change that.

Your heart stuttered, your hand slowly turning, cautiously letting your fingers brush against his before lacing them together and taking hold of his hand. A relieved sound escaped him and you felt his fingers tighten around yours.

“I won't hurt you again,” he promised and, this time, you actually believed him.

He reached for your cheek, thumb gently wiping away your tears.

A minute must have passed and neither of you seemed willing to move or pull away, so Billy cleared the distance and kissed you. It was soft at first, a tender reaffirmation and reignition of all the feelings you’d been trying to snuff out. He pressed closer, the kiss eventually turning more heated until his body was against yours and your broken arm was wrapped around him, cast pressing into his back and pulling him against you.

It was a slow descent into frenzy, but you both seemed to know where it was heading.

When he lifted you off your feet, your legs wrapped around him. You barely paid attention to where he was taking you, too caught up in his kiss.

Under different circumstances you might have taken a moment to realise that you were finally seeing his bedroom; you would have paid more attention to the dark and cold colour scheme and the smattering of photographs on the wall, or maybe you would have noticed the large walk-in closet, filled with his suits. But all you saw was the bed and all you wanted to pay attention to was Billy.

He kept kissing you and, by the time he put you down, your legs felt weak.

You both moved on auto-pilot, both needing and wanting so desperately that undressing each other was just a formality. There was no wonderment in slowly uncovering him because you’d seen him so many times and, this time, you were aching for so much more. You barely even pulled back from the kiss to look at him as his shirt, then pants, fell away.

Once you were both down to your underwear, you reached for him, your hand cupping his cock, feeling how it was already throbbing and hard for you, the tip already peeking out from beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers.

“Hummingbird,” he groaned as deft fingers unhooked your bra and pulled it away from you.

His hands slid up your stomach to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and tracing his thumbs over your achingly hard nipples. He kissed you again, languidly and slowly. Your hand cupped him and stroked him through his boxers, earning another groan that you happily swallowed down, his hips moving, gently pressing himself into your touch.

A hand gripped your waist as he slowly guided you backwards. When you felt the bed against the back of your legs, you moved, climbing onto it and pulling him with you, 

You fell back, legs instinctively parting for him, allowing him to settle between your thighs. He tested the water by pressing his hips down against yours, letting you feel the hard length of his cock against you.

“Billy,” you gasped, arching your body into his.

“What do you need, hummingbird?” He asked, though you were already certain that he knew the answer.

“You, Billy,” you answered, already breathless, “I need you.”

He reached down between your bodies, cupping you through your panties, biting his lip when he felt just how wet they were. Billy didn’t bother trying to remove them, he settled for tearing them away from your body.

“You’re so wet already,” he said, wasting no time before pushing a finger inside you, causing your back to arch. He pulled it out just as quick before pushing in two and starting to fuck you with them.

“Billy,” you moaned with the intensity of it. 

It had been over six weeks since he’d last touched you, but he hadn’t forgotten a thing. You cried out as his fingers curled inside you, your walls clenching around him, gripping him tight. But it wasn’t his fingers you wanted, and Billy seemed to know that.

“I know,” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. “Soon, hummingbird, I just need to make sure you’re ready for me...”

“Please...” you heard yourself begging, completely losing yourself to him.

“First you’re going to take my fingers, then my tongue, and then you’ll get my cock,” he told you.

Just the thought of it had you shivering.

Your breath caught as a third finger slipped inside you, stretching you and pushing you closer to an orgasm you didn’t have permission to have. At some point, your fingers had tangled in his hair and you were tugging far harder than you should.

“Do you want to come for me?” He whispered into your ear, and all you could do was keen in response. “Then come for me, little hummingbird.”

It was automatic, your body doing exactly as he wanted. You cried out and moaned his name as your walls started to convulse and flutter around his fingers. Fingers that kept moving, dragging out the sensation of ecstacy. You pulled his lips to yours and kissed him, trembling and moaning as his tongue found yours.

But he didn’t linger. Soon he was moving down your body, lips and tongue trailing a clear path from your lips, over your chest and stomach, and down to the apex of your thighs. You shivered in anticipation, seeing his dark eyes staring up at you from between your legs, his fingers parting your folds and -

“Billy,” you cried out as his tongue slid against your trembling flesh.

Your back arched and you tried to lift your hips to press against his mouth, but Billy quickly gripped your thighs and held you in place, determined to stay in control of your pleasure. His tongue moved to your clit, licking with the lightest pressure, barely a ghost of a touch but it was enough to have you breathless.

Finally his attention moved lower, lapping against your slick entrance before pressing the tip inside. If he hadn’t been holding you so tightly, so possessively, your hips would have shot off the bed but, instead, all you could do was cry out as his tongue continued to lick into you.

At some point, your fingers had found their way to his hair again and you were holding him just as tightly as he was holding you, trying to pull him against him, demanding more. And Billy didn’t disappoint. 

He fucked you with his tongue, not stopping to give you permission to come but, instead, fixing you with a hungry look. 

Your whole body tensed before you came on his tongue, but Billy didn’t stop. He continued to devour you, returning his attention to your clit, pushing you from one orgasm right into the next.

“Please,” you begged, feeling like you were about to shatter into a million tiny pieces, “no more. I can’t take any more.”

And, finally, he relented. Billy crawled back up your body, his chin and lips glistening with your wetness. He kissed you eagerly and your lips parted for him, tasting yourself in his mouth, while your hands forced his boxers down.

You’d already come three times, but just the press of his cock at your wet entrance was enough to make your breath catch. You were already intimately familiar with how big he was but it still made you nervous. Looking down you watched him tease his tip between your folds until it glistened with a mixture of your arousal and his own pre-cum.

Then, his cock surged into you, filling you in one rough thrust, catching you off-guard and causing your over-sensitive pussy to tremble as you struggled to adjust to his size. He pulled back before filling you again and again before coming to an abrupt stop buried deep inside you, leaving you shaking beneath him.

He looked down at you, a mixture of remorse and shame on his face and it took you a moment to realise why; he thought he was being too rough with you.

You reached for him, your hand pressing against his cheek. 

“It’s okay,” you told him softly, “I don’t want you to hold back.”

“But what if I -” he started and you shook your head.

“Are you here with me? Are you in control?” You asked and Billy gave a definite nod. “Then fuck me, Billy.” You told him, feeling your cheeks warm at how brazen it sounded.

You moaned as you felt him start to move again, every hard inch taking what he needed from you, every thrust causing your walls to flutter and clench, gripping him tight. Everything had been building to this moment, months of foreplay finally leading somewhere. It was no wonder he couldn’t hold back. 

“Fuck, hummingbird, you keep gripping my cock like that and I’m not going to last,” he groaned through gritted teeth. “Is that what you want? You want me to come inside you?”

No words left your mouth, just an eager, desperate moan as you stared up at him, lust and desire written all over his handsome face, putting to rest any lingering doubts that you had about his feelings for you.

He kissed you again and again, and you lost yourself to everything he was doing to you. You lost yourself to him. Every time he pulled back, he left you feeling empty and every time he plunged forward left you feeling like all your prayers had been answered.

“Come for me,” he demanded, as if he knew it was building in you before you did.

As commanded, your body started to shudder, coming undone as you moaned his name. His hips slowed, leisurely fucking you through another orgasm, sending more desperate sparks of arousal through your body. It was overwhelming. It was too much and not enough at the same time. You weren’t sure you could go on but you were certain that you couldn’t stop. You wanted more. You wanted everything.

And luckily for you, Billy was just getting started.

“You good?” He asked, his fingers brushing sweat slicked  hair away from your brow.

“Yeah,” you answered breathlessly, too overcome to even force a smile. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he answered, “do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

Billy smiled, kissing you softly, still moving slowly, waiting until your walls finally stopped trembling so much.

He gripped your leg, his hand behind your knee, pulling it upwards, opening you to him, while his other hand reached over you to grip the headboard. For a second he paused, looking down at you, waiting for permission. You bit your lip before nodding.

Nothing could have prepared you for the intensity of what followed. He pulled back slowly before plunging his thick cock into you again, deeper than before, making you realise that you hadn’t taken all of him before then. You let out an incomprehensible cry as you felt his tip graze your cervix, the sensation causing you to clench around him.

Looking down between your bodies, you watched as he started to fuck you, his hips setting a relentless pace, his grip on the headboard helping his powerful movements as he pushed you down into the mattress with each thrust. You felt out of control. No, you felt like you were giving control to Billy, letting him have it because you knew that was what he needed.

“Look at me,” he demanded, sounding just as breathless as you were.

Your eyes found his, and that sight alone was almost enough to make you come. His jaw was clenched and his unblinking eyes were watching every flicker of emotion that passed your face. He was looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, like he was committing every second of this to memory and leaving you feeling more wanted than you ever had.

“My hummingbird,” he groaned, “I’ll never let you go.”

You couldn’t answer, not when every rough, rapid-fire thrust of his hips was forcing moan after moan from you. 

Your hands slipped down his back over cold, sweat-slicked skin, right the way down until your fingers were gripping his buttocks, pressing your fingernails into his flesh. That only seemed to spur him on, moving faster, harder, claiming you with every shift of his hips.

“I want to feel you come again,” he told you.

This time you tried to hold back, fighting every urge that told you to give into the pleasure, wanting it to last, wanting Billy to keep fucking you into the mattress. But then you felt his hand on your throat, just beneath your chin, not squeezing, but gripping tight enough to get your full atention.

“I said I want to feel you come,” his voice almost became a growl, his fingers tentatively tightening their grip on your throat.

You couldn’t deny him. You don't want to, not when you were completely at his mercy. This sudden escalation should have scared you, but some part of you trusted him, some part of you was enjoying this and was desperate for more. Finally, there was no doubt in your mind that he wanted this, wanted you.

Your head fell back as the first wave of your orgasm crashed over you, his fingers gripping tighter as he continued to drive his cock into you. You swore and cried out his name, over and over as he forced you through the most intense climax of your life. Your vision went white and Billy kept going until you couldn’t take any more.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving your body desperately clenching and grasping around nothing, feeling unbearably empty. Your whole body shuddered with the intensity of it all, and Billy just watched as you fell apart for him. It seemed to go on and on, your body shaking uncontrollably, your eyes refusing to focus. You felt starved for touch, and even though you were falling apart, you felt needy and desperate for more than just the touch of his fingers on your throat.

Billy didn’t move until the worst of the tremors had subsided, pulling his hand from your throat as he lowered himself over you again. His lips pressed against yours in a chaste and gentle kiss, a tenderness in his eyes, as he slowly sank his cock back into your sensitive pussy. 

This time his movements were gentle, allowing you to really enjoy the feel of him inside you. Your fingers slipped through his hair and even though he was being so gentle now, you still felt tender and overwhelmed. It felt like something had broken inside of you, like he’d managed to fuck your head empty, and now all you could think about was him and how good it felt everytime he filled you with his cock.

His hands framed your face, holding you as he kissed you, and it felt like everything had been leading to this moment. Now that you’d both sated the urgent desires that had been building in you over the last few months, you could finally take your time with each other. 

You lost yourself in the gentle kiss, in the feeling of him loving you and not just fucking you, slowly climbing towards another orgasm and, this time, Billy seemed primed to join you. 

Towards the end, he started to pick up speed, his groans stacking, his face buried against your neck.

“Come, hummingbird,” he grunted.

The moment you let go, you felt him start to pulse inside you, the sensation causing you to shiver. He gave a couple more thrusts before finally stilling deep inside you, groaning against your neck as his orgasm gripped him.

When you’d pictured sex with Billy, this was not how it had played out, this was not how you saw it ending. You felt boneless, completely overwhelmed and exhausted. For a few moments you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. And, when he finally pulled out, you felt the telltale trickle of cum between your thighs.

For the next couple of hours he held you. Neither of you spoke, both having said so much already. You drifted in and out of sleep, always waking to find him holding you securely, his cold body pressed to your back. 

You were half-asleep when you felt his fingers between your legs, parting your folds and guiding his cock into you. Your back arched against his chest as he started to fuck you from behind, letting out a soft moan as he teased your clit. His free hand gripped your chin, turning your head so he could kiss you, slipping his tongue between your lips before you could think to say anything.

His movements started off slow and sensual, letting you enjoy the sensations of him moving inside you and the way your body stretched to accommodate him. You still felt tender from earlier but any discomfort was quickly forgotten.

“Fuck, hummingbird,” he muttered against your lips, “your tight little pussy takes me so well...”

“Billy,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut, still exhausted but wanting more.

“I’ll never get over the way you grip my cock. It’s like you were made just for me,” he continued in that low, seductive mutter. “Can you feel it?

“Yes,” you whined as your hand awkwardly reached behind you to settle on his hip, wanting to touch him.

It stayed like that for a few long minutes, Billy taking his time with you, smiling at every gasp and moan he managed to pull from you.

Then, without warning, he started to rut into you, his movements becoming desperate and sloppy until you felt him twitch and pulse inside you. You started to shift your hips, clumsily riding him as he spilled inside you. Realising that you hadn’t come, he resumed teasing your clit and groaned in your ear.

“Come for me, hummingbird,” he pleaded and you soon did as you were asked.

“I love you,” you moaned, turning to press your face into the pillow as your body succumbed to the pleasure coursing through it.

All Billy gave was a hum in response. There was no question in your mind that he’d heard those three little words, even as his body shivered behind you, and he lost himself in his own pleasure. After everything, you didn’t expect to hear it back, you didn’t expect him to confess more than he already had. You just wanted him to know.

You let out a soft whine as he pulled out, too exhausted to move or lift your head again, your eyes closing. Billy pulled you tight against him and held you there until you fell asleep again.

The next time you woke, it was to Billy getting out of bed. You watched him stroll into his walk-in wardrobe and he didn’t notice you were awake until he returned with a suit and shirt.

“I’m really sorry,” he told you softly, “I have to go in to work for a few hours, Frank’ll kill me if I don’t, but you can stay in here and rest and I’ll see you when I get home?” 

There was something in his voice that almost made it feel like he was asking your permission, like he didn’t know how you were going to react. Honestly, you weren’t sure how you wanted to react; you’d just spend the afternoon having the most earth-shattering sex of your life, and now he needed to go to work.

“Okay,” you muttered sleepily, knowing you couldn’t keep him from his job, not after all the time he’d already lost.

You watched as he headed into his bathroom and you listened as he took a quick shower before emerging dressed and ready to go. If you had been so tired you would have appreciated the sight of him in his light grey suit, looking devilishly handsome. Instead you could barely lift your head when he kissed you goodbye.

Around half an hour after he left, you managed to get up and return to your rooms. You took a long shower, exhausted but unable to keep your mind from racing over everything that had happened and what that meant going forward.

Everything he’d said, the way he’d looked at you when you were together; it was too much. It played over and over in your head until it became deafening in the silence of the penthouse. He’d been right about everything. You suddenly understood why he’d tried so hard to keep some distance between you, why he’d never wanted anything beyond the physical. You knew that losing you to illness or old age would kill him.

And you loved him far too much to put him through that.

You were left with only one option; hurt him now to save him from more pain later.

(Or maybe it wasn’t that at all, maybe you were just scared that he was going to hurt you again. As much as you hated yourself for your little admission of love during sex, it still caused your stomach to knot thinking about how he hadn’t said it back. What if he never said it?)

It wasn’t long before you found yourself by the intercom again, pressing the button, waiting for a response and, when you finally heard Lissa’s voice...

“I need my things, I want to leave...”

End Note : 😅😅😅😅 like I said last week 'trust me, I have a plan'. At least they actually got to fuck this time 😅 Also, just as a potential warning, I'm not 100% sure if next weeks chapter will be on time; I'm away for a couple of days and my birthday is next weekend. I have already started chapter 16 though so I will try to get it posted at the normal time. If I can't get it done, I'll post something to let people know and probably try to post two chapters the week after.

Also, I now have an AO3 account (it's hungermakesmonsters) I'm planning on posting things there as well as here but things will probably always end up on tumblr first, so don't feel like you have to follow me there or anything. As always, thanks for all your support and the likes/screaming in the comments/reblogs! Have a great weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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[moonlit-midnight]

For dearest you will always be

Characters: Idia Shroud.

Genre/Trope: Romantic fluff, Mutual crushes.

Summary: In which your longtime best friend finally professes his love for you.

Warnings: Very self indulgent, set in the future, inspired by my oldest sister and her husband (thanks for being my muse).

—

Idia fell into step with you in the empty park, strides unhurried and steady.

He was quiet, and you were quiet too, but it was the comfortable kind of quietness that he grew accustomed to over the years of being friends with you.

“It’s unusual for you to take me on a night walk…” you chimed in. “Is there perhaps something you want to tell me?”

Idia nodded and drew a breath, staring at your left hand hanging on your side.

“I… I’m in love with you.” He stated in a soft tone, and the next thing he knew, he reached into the space between you and him, intertwining your fingers together in the most gentle way.

He held your hands countless times, but this time it felt different.

Rather than just expressing his love through simple words, he wanted to convey it through actions to make it more meaningful.

You slowed down your pace before you came to a halt so you could look at him.

You knew that Idia harbored romantic interest towards you because you once overheard it from one of your close classmates that he was in love with you.

Yet, despite your knowledge of his crush on you, you never questioned him about it and simply chose to wait for him patiently.

Now that it was out in the open, you were over the moon hearing it personally from him and your heart was at ease knowing that your beloved best friend genuinely reciprocated your feelings.

“Don’t tell me it took you seven years to realize that? You must be losing your charm.” you said in a joking manner while smiling endearingly at him.

“I guess even my charms has its limits.” Idia grinned, followed by an amused chuckle.

★ —

You were an inseparable pair of best friends since the age of ten, often celebrating your happy times together, cheering one another during the hard times, bickering and bantering like any close friends would do, and constantly having each other’s unwavering support.

Both of you developed a mutual little crush at seventeen which blossomed into something more as time flew by. 

You had been attempting to profess your love since fourth year, but a series of unfortunate circumstances occasionally ruined your chances while Idia on the other side wasn’t ready to voice his feelings yet during that time.

Fast forward to the future, everything finally fell into place.

He even beat you to it, much to your surprise.

“I love you, too, Idia.”

“I know.”

“Took you so long, mister,” you grinned and landed a playful punch on his shoulder. “But at least you got me now.”

“I always got you.” Idia took a hold of your hand, kissing it sweetly before he engulfed you into one of his hugs, a tight yet loving hug that always made your heart feel at home.

[heartmaddie]

two slow dancers ! oikawa tooru incl : post-timeskip , fluff , angst (a bit) , exes (tbh this is a bit of word vomit i wrote it at 1am)

their break up was more than amicable.

they were both bigger than what miyagi could offer them. it was no secret that japan didn’t offer tooru the recognition that he deserved, and for her, everything was perfectly laid out in tokyo. that’s where they originally planned to move together in the beginning after all. 

but even so, in the late hours of the night, he still found himself buried in different magazine clippings and articles about life abroad. when push came to shove he decided that he wanted to move to argentina, but he was conflicted, going to argentina meant leaving her behind.

it was a mutual break up, tooru couldn’t risk volleyball and she couldn’t risk university, and they understood that at the end of the day, their future mattered more than their highschool romance. but even so, the pain settled between them deeply, piercing through the love they shared. it hurt too much.

they had completely lost contact two months after tooru moved to argentina. 

but now, almost seven years later, he found himself back in tokyo, walking into a familiar cafe for a blind date that matsukawa had spontaneously set up for him.

the bell jingled as he walked through the oak door, tan arms covered by the thick wool of his red jumper, he wasn't used to the layers anymore.

but of course, he should've expected this, because at that table was not some random girl from his university course, but the woman that tooru hasn't been able to get out of his mind for the past ten years of his life.

it’s almost magical how everything falls into place, but still, a mere comparison to what they were in their teenage years. he’s stunned by how she’s managed to become so eloquent in such a short amount of time, but he’s more so focused on how she had satisfyingly grown into her features.

she was always attractive by conventional standards, but now it was more obvious than ever.

he knows he’s changed too, argentina was good to him. with sunkissed, tan skin and hair slightly golden from the sun, he was something else entirely compared to the lanky boy he once was. he noticed how her gaze would shift from his eyes down to his sharp jawline before concentrating on him properly once again, or how her body language was almost flirtatious as she leant over the table with head propped up on interlocked hands. 

before he knew it, he found himself following her out of the cafe. her arm was wrapped around his bicep as the two walked towards her apartment. their flirtatious banter and intimate touches had come back to them like pen on paper, it was nearly how it was before.

there was a gentle intimacy in how their bodies intertwined on her soft mattress, her head resting on the hard expanse of his chest as thick fingers slid through silky strands of hair. tooru watched as she fell asleep and he couldn’t help but smile softly. 

but in his heart he knew that this was fleeting, their time together was transient. his teeth dug into the bottom of his inner lip as his heart swelled with some sort of achy discomfort, he didn’t want to leave her alone again. instinctively, he shifted her closer, burying his nose into the soft expanse of hair as he soaked in all of her. this would be okay for now, he decided, he’d keep her close until he had to leave again.

please like , reblog or follow if you enjoyed :p © heartmaddie all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

[hwangism143]

dim lights (work nights)

synopsis: work party. seungmin is a suit. a glass of wine. oh, you are so done.

pairing: lawyer!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: workplace romance, fluff, teensy angst

warnings: drinking, punching jokes, swearing

word count: 1.2k words

a/n: been in my drafts for like a week hehe. suit seungmin has me screaming. anyways, enjoy and pls drop any and all feedback!

"I'll be charging ten dollars to punch him in the face, upon your generous request," murmured a low voice tantalizingly close to your ear.

You scoffed, "The things I want to do to Davies go far beyond a modest punch to the face. Those things could get me in jail."

One arm across your waist and the other's elbow propped upon your hand, you turned to face the owner of the honeyed voice that just offered you an extremely lucrative deal moments. Swirling around the remaining wine in your wine glass, you studied Kim Seungmin as he studied you.

"In that case," Seungmin sighed, "You'll have to pay my legal consultancy fees which, I'm afraid is far higher."

A laugh bubbled from your lips as Seungmin smirked at your rage. Watching one of the many people you were currently pitted against for a promotion kissing up to your boss made anger blossom within you. Then again, you weren't exactly known for being the most level-headed lawyer employed at the Prescott, Park and Daley Legal Firm.

But you, along with Seungmin, were known for being the best.

You offered Seungmin eyes that reflected betrayal. "I thought you would bail me out for free. I thought we were friends," you chastised.

"We most definitely are not friends, darling," said Seungmin smugly.

A smirk was forming on his lips and an eyebrow was ticked up. You felt yourself being stripped bare under his piercing gaze and flirtatious smile. Oh how he loved torturing you.

You caught your lip between your teeth to drink him in, deciding to conveniently ignore the fact that your teeth were currently in the process of being stained by your dark red lipstick. Seungmin's hair was styled to perfection, his skin was glowing and his eyes stayed on you as if you were a person he wished to learn every fold of. His three-piece suit was tailored to perfection and hugged his body perfectly.

You looked away and hoped he attributed your flushed face to the wine you were drinking. He was right though. You and Seungmin were not friends, not in the conventional sense. It was more of a situation where being paired up so much over the seven years that you spent at the firm caused to the two of you to become comfortable in each other's presence.

Both you having graduated top of your class from law school (you went to Harvard Law while Seungmin opted for Princeton), you both joined the law firm at the same time, full of dreams and aspirations. At first, you both considered one another as rivals. Constantly being compared truly made you inhibit a sort of begrudging sense of dislike towards him.

However, working your first together, truly made you realize how he was actually a very caring person. Seungmin constantly knew what to say to you without even saying anything. He brought you food and made you ramen after he found out your extreme affection towards the Korean delicacy.

You and Seungmin, however, came from strikingly different backgrounds. Seungmin lived comfortably and had a wealthy upbringing, which caused people to often underestimate his hard work. You went to school on an eighty percent scholarship but still worked three jobs to pay of your student loan, causing people to often very offensively doubt your etiquette.

You heard the rumors about rich kid Seungmin during your initial weeks at the firm. Allegedly (you are a lawyer, of course you use the word allegedly more than any other word over), he lived in a high rise apartment with so many floors that a helicopter, a fucking helicopter,crashed into the side of it.

You took extreme pride in being the only one to know that this was, in fact, true, as confirmed by the man himself.

Forcing your eyes to go back to Seungmin, your gaze sat on the horrendous lump which he called his 'tie'.

"It's on wrong," you remarked, motioning towards Seungmin's tie. He gave you shrug. "Fix it for me?"

You set down your now empty glass on the sleek granite table and the private restaurant lounge your colleagues and high playing clients were currently in. The low jazz music and soft lighting gave the entire room an ambience of romance. This was only heightened by Seungmin's sudden desire to covertly flirt with you.

Reaching around his neck to undo his tie, you never broke eye contact with him. You could feel his gaze start from your eyes and trail all the way down to your black stilettoes. He had a faint smile on his face. So he likes what he sees?

Finishing with a scoff, you send him away with a pat on his arm in a futile attempt to diffuse the tiny fireworks that were popping all over your body. Seungmin disappeared into the crowd to socialize, leaving you his scent surrounding your very being.

Grabbing another drink (a mojito), you walked over to the table where Seungmin's paralegal, Hyunjin, sat scrolling on his phone. Both of you being ambiverts who leaned more towards the introverted side, you both often found yourself sitting at the quiet people table in silence.

You could see Hyunjin's welcoming eyes move from you to somewhere behind you, morphing into one of distaste. You followed his line of sight to find your paralegal, Yeji, downing shots like her life depended on it. Although Hyunjin loved his cousin, he wouldn't be caught dead doing the things she did.

"You're painfully fond of him," started Hyunjin in mock annoyance, "It's disgusting."

You rolled your eyes at him and gave him a light slip. Hyunjin dramatically feigned pain and pushed a plate of food towards you. Your stomach rumbling as if on cue, you pounced on the food and relished it. That was one good thing about these corporate meetings; they had free food, at least as far as girl logic went.

Finishing up with a satisfied sigh, you looked up only to lock eyes with a notorious Mr. Peterson, a heavily disliked client who loved hitting on women. The bartender, Chan, offered you a sympathetic smile and slid you a shot of tequila.

"You're gonna need it," he said pitifully, patting your hand twice for reassurance.

Suppressing the urge to slap the now emerging Mr. Peterson and plastering on a fake smile, you turned to face the cause of your sorrow. The short, balding man's attempt at making any nonsensical, non-professional conversation was shot down by you quickly. You waved around your hand around, hoping he would take note of the large diamond ring that sat nestled in you finger.

You hoped he would take the hint about your marital status. You were loyal to your husband to a fault. Behind you, a Kim Seungmin watched you in amusement. You felt both sadness and anger seep into you. Sadness because he wasn't near you and anger because you were left alone to deal with a human shaped insolence.

Finally escaping from the clutches of Mr. Peterson grubby hands, you put your head down on the cold marble slab. Your hands held your heels and your head was already pounding from the effects of alcohol. Behind you, you heard a laugh that you knew unmistakable belonged to Seungmin. Turning around, you came face to face with a seemingly put together and knowingly exhausted Seungmin.

"Working hours are over," you said wearily.

"So?" came Seungmin's dry response.

You held your arms up like a child. "So, would you like to carry your extremely drunk yet adorably lovable wife home?"

Seungmin pressed a kiss to your forehead and duly obliged.

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