#and highway to heaven is good as well

[yutaholic]

smells like teen spirit (M)

PAIRING: Jeno (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Jeno keeps getting on your last nerve, but you still end up in his arms with your tongue down his throat.

WARNINGS: strong language; some drug use; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 8.6k words; this is part two of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Chicago, 1991

A tale as old as time. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

That was our life that summer. Some of us in different doses than the others.

You sat on the bed with your legs bent, resting the notebook against your thighs as you scribbled out another page of the band’s escapades.

Though there was a connection with Mark, we agreed to keep things simple for the rest of the summer. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with the band. God forbid we earned a reputation like Fleetwood Mac’s.

Unfortunately, this agreement caused some awkwardness and I handled that the way I always did - with distance. If Mark couldn’t help but complicate things, then I would do him a favor and give both of us the space we needed.

It felt like shit, but I was used to being the villain.

Turning the page, you kept writing in the eerie quiet of the van. Haechan was bouncing his leg up-and-down at a mile a minute, thoroughly annoyed by Jeno’s delay. Mark was dozing in his seat, trying not to fantasize about you and the fucking heaven between your thighs, but he couldn’t help but watch you jotting down your feelings, your grievances, your hopes and your dreams.

He prayed that he was part of the latter.

The silence broke when the van door opened loudly, followed by a disheveled Jeno stumbling inside. “Goddamn, I am getting so much pussy on this trip,” he huffed, running a hand through his overgrown and severely damaged blond hair.

“Jeno, I swear to god,” you barked, scratching out the compliment you had given him at the top of the page. “If you give me an STD this summer, I will set your drums on fire.”

“You would destroy my child?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Jeno grumbled something under his breath about how you always rained on his parade of pussy and shut the doors. “Let’s get on the road,” he said irritably, shooing Haechan out of the driver’s seat and jerking the van in gear.

“We’ve been waiting for you, dumbass,” Haechan sniped. He’d been getting so annoyed and impatient he threatened to leave the bastard drummer behind and never look back. That bitch can walk, he’d declared moments before.

Mark stayed quiet in the passenger seat, sluggish with sleep. He looked to you again, watching you write in your journal and wondering what you were saying about him.

About all of them.

Jeno drove fast, but not a soul complained. The gig in Chicago was the most highly-anticipated of the trip.

The van hurtled down the highway, not stopping for several hours until you begged for a bathroom. After a quick gas station run, you put some fresh snacks into the cabinet and wrangled your hair into a bun on your head.

Jeno came in with a bag in hand and said, “I bought more condoms.”

“Good for you,” you deadpanned, wrinkling your nose.

“Although I heard Mark didn’t have to wear one,” Jeno added, tsking his tongue. “One of the few perks of being innocent and pure, I guess.”

Your voice was razor sharp. “Careful, Jeno.”

Both pleased and annoyed by your tone, Jeno asked roughly, “Did you at least remember to get your birth control?”

You wanted to shoot daggers into his face with your eyes, but refusing to afford him any looks was better. “Yeah. I got my Depo shot two days before we left.”

“How long does it last?”

“Three months.”

Jeno smiled wryly. “Well, isn’t that convenient.”

“That’s the whole point,” you mumbled. He was trying to get a reaction out of you, prodding at your buttons, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

There was a pause. “I’m ready when you are,” Jeno flirted, wiggling his brows at you.

“Who said I even wanna screw you?”

“You did. Many, many times.”

True, but no longer relevant. All things considered. You returned to your notebook and said, “That was before you became a penis petri dish of death and disease.”

“Ouch.”

My relationship with Jeno could best be described as rivalry. He never gave an inch and neither did I. It was my job to keep him humble.

And damn, what a full-time thankless job that was.

Jeno had been going out of his way to rile you up after your night with Mark. He couldn’t stand seeing you sulky. Mark’s pouting was beyond remedy, but yours could be managed with well-placed jabs.

He had you down to a science. Lighting a fire under your ass was all Jeno knew how to do. The more he prodded at you, the more flames escaped. And when you were angry, you couldn’t be sad.

Because there was nothing Jeno hated more than seeing you cry.

“Can you try to stay on beat this time?” Jeno chided, spinning a drumstick nimbly between his fingers.

Having been testing the microphone, you whipped around and snapped, “Fuck you, Jeno.”

An argument swiftly ensued, petty and heated. No surprises there. Mark and Haechan stood with their guitars and watched the back and forth with no end in sight, even as people poured into the club.

“Those two are going to kill each other,” Mark said under his breath.

Haechan scoffed. “Or make a ton of babies.”

Mark almost choked on the lump that shot into his throat.

You stomped over to Haechan, pointed at Jeno and said, “I can’t deal with this douche canoe anymore!”

To which Jeno shot back, “Just shut up and sing, ice crotch!”

Your eyes went wide with rage and you spun in Jeno’s direction, ready and willing to claw out his eyes. Haechan grabbed you by the arm and steered you back over to the microphone, officially sapped of all patience.

“In ten seconds, me and Mark are going to start playing,” he said hurriedly. “And both of you are going to look like losers if you’re not ready.”

You huffed a swear or two under your breath and gripped the microphone as Mark and Haechan got into position. Then you heard the tapping of drumsticks behind you followed by the roar of Mark’s electric guitar.

By the time the show was over, you were utterly exhausted. Between Haechan and Mark, your arms draped across their shoulders, the three of you sang tiredly along to one of your songs as the boys essentially dragged you down the hall toward the back door for some well-earned sleep.

Turning the corner, you saw Jeno with two beautiful blondes. You bristled with annoyance. They were giggling at every little thing he said like they were getting dick after, which you quickly realized was the case.

Not on my watch.

“Let it go,” Haechan said, but he knew it would make no difference.

Jeno did not deserve pussy after how badly he stressed you out. You wriggled out of Haechan and Mark’s arms and made a beeline for the drummer.

“Oh my god,” you said in a loud, obnoxious voice, greeting the girls as you cuddled up to Jeno and patted his chest. “You guys look so cute! But unfortunately, Jeno is only halfway through his chlamydia treatment.”

Wide-eyed, the girls looked at you in horror before sending vengeful expressions at Jeno, who set his jaw and bristled with anger.

You held your hand beside your mouth, pretending to whisper a secret, “Very contagious through bodily fluids.”

The pair of blondes scurried off. One of them gave Jeno the finger.

“I hate and despise you,” Jeno hissed, trudging down the corridor.

You were hot on his heels, ready to resume the argument from earlier. A moniker like Ice Crotch was not going to be forgotten. “Haven’t you had enough threesomes?”

“There’s no such thing as too many threesomes,” Jeno replied, heated. “And I’ve only had four.”

Haechan asked curiously, “You keep track?”

Jeno snorted. “Don’t you?”

“One is easy to remember. I wasn’t into it.”

Mark fell in line beside them and said, more so to himself, “I have questions.”

“I don’t,” you spoke up, backhanding Jeno’s burly arm to get his attention. “Jeno, you’ve got pussy brain and you fucked up the tempo.”

Jeno went quiet, which was the last thing you expected.

Everyone was tired and raw. We were a well-oiled machine, steaming ahead like a freight train, but with time, gears start to grind. When gears grind, they tear through flesh and bone.

I know my boys. It sounds cliche, and I agree, but I know them. We’ve been friends for so long and crossed hundreds of lines of intimacy reserved for soulmates. They can’t hide anything from me.

Especially the things they intentionally try to hide from me.

You knew you had struck a nerve, but you weren’t sure which one. You dug your heels in regardless, but you were miffed when Jeno said nothing and made for the door.

“Did he just storm off?” Mark questioned, equally bemused.

“He never does that,” Haechan said softly, turning to you.

You didn’t hesitate to stomp after him, and Mark and Haechan didn’t follow this time. When fire fought with fire, it was best to keep a distance to avoid getting burned.

The cold of Chicago’s night was bitter on your cheeks when you stepped outside and you pulled your jacket tightly round you. Jeno hadn’t jumped into the van yet. He was lingering in the lot, scraping his shoes across the asphalt as he puffed on a cigarette.

Closing the distance, you called, “The hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied, avoiding your eyes and blowing out smoke.

“You’re out of sync and you’re acting weird.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes at you. “We were all out of sync tonight. Why am I the only one getting called out on it?”

As usual, no matter how angry he made you, your first instinct when things were too tense was to smooth his feathers. His surface was rough, but at his core, Jeno was tender. You brushed your hand down his arm and said sweetly, “Because you’re the rock…”

"We’re all built on," was going to be the end of that sentence. Unfortunately, I never got to say it.

Jeno cut you off. “I don’t want to be your rock,” he lashed out, hissing your name. “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me all the time?”

You recoiled like you’d been slapped and that was when you noticed his eyes. They didn’t belong to the Jeno you knew, but to the monster that stole his mind and would eventually give him back by morning.

Wrapping your arms around yourself in comfort, suddenly much colder than before, your breath pillared into the night like the smoke from his mouth when you whispered, “I didn’t. Until you said that.”

Jeno blinked, realizing too late that he’d hurt you.

That was the thing about me and Jeno. We both thought the other to be fearless and unbreakable, but also knew who we were at each other’s cores. I was his mirror image and he was mine. The broken kids; the kids that just wanted to be loved. The pair everyone knew to be demons, but never stopped to think how we became them.

The fallen angels.

Anger faded from his face in an instant. “I didn’t mean it,” Jeno started, flicking away the cigarette and reaching for you.

You stepped back, not wanting to be touched. “You’re at your most honest when you’re high, baby,” you said sternly, fixing him with a look that rooted Jeno in place. “Don’t lie to me now.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. How could you always see right through him?

You wiped the tear that spilled down your cheek and escaped into the van, your safe place, your little haven. Jeno ran a hand down his face and cursed, “Fuck,” for hitting you where it hurt.

The rest of the night was tense and awkward, only slacking when sleep took hold. Everyone was painfully exhausted. Chicago had exceeded expectations and pushed all limits. The show was insane. The energy was incredible. I would remember that performance for the rest of my life.

Me and the boys may have been a little out of sync, but each of us gave it our all. We left nothing on the floor and held nothing back.

Haechan curled around you in the bed, keeping you warm. You claimed the bed together more often than not. Mark slept like a vampire, on his back on the floor with his arms at his sides. It was the weirdest thing you’d ever seen, but it worked for him somehow. He slept like a baby, the whistle of his snores filling the van.

Jeno sat in the driver’s seat, looking up at the stars, exhaling the smoke from a joint. He was wide awake, couldn’t sleep. An unfortunate side-effect of the shit he took to get high. The marijuana wasn’t simmering him down as hoped. He’d probably stay up all night and sleep the day away.

Glancing over his shoulder, seeing your pretty face made him smile. You looked even cuter when you slept, but it was frustrating as hell.

No one else noticed he was high but you. Did you really know him that well?

Of course she does, Jeno thought. You were his better half. That’s how it worked. He could never escape you. There was a point of no return when it came to intimacy. Not so long ago, you and Jeno soared past that point. Two reckless teenagers, young and wild, that found all their highs and lows with each other.

Jeno propped his legs up on the dash and closed his eyes, watching the memories like a movie in his head. Mark shredded the electric as if his life was on the line; probably to vent his sexual frustration. Haechan was a whirlwind of energy despite playing that boring ass bass. And you, beautiful you… Mark wasn’t kidding when he said you were a god on stage.

Chicago delivered on the show, but not the after-party. Instead of drinking and fucking the night away, Jeno was in the stuffy van watching the stars go by when he wasn’t stealing glances of you. He wanted to be in your arms, needed you to kiss him and tell him everything would be okay.

You were the fix he craved most of all.

In the time it took him to blink, dawn broke. The sun shone across Jeno’s face. He lifted a hand, shielding his eyes. He grumbled a little and turned in the seat to get comfortable, cursing at the awkward angle his back was in.

Your hand touched his shoulder gently and Jeno lurched in surprise, peering up at you. He’d never looked so weary and drained, but you could see the animal was gone from his eyes. “You’ve been up all night?” Your voice rang with compassion, and Jeno felt utterly undeserving.

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to keep them open any longer.

You tugged at him, getting Jeno to his feet and ushering him to the bed, where he basically collapsed onto the mattress. Mark and Haechan were up, crawling around in search of coffee like a pair of zombies. Meanwhile, you let Jeno situate and draped the blanket over him, tucking him in, and brushed some of his hair back from his face.

Jeno took your hand and laced his fingers through yours. “Tell me you love me,” he said in barely a whisper.

“I love you,” you replied without hesitation, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. You stayed propped over him, wanting to be close so you could be sure he finally drifted off. You left a chaste kiss on his brow and coaxed, “Go to sleep, baby.”

Mark turned away. It wasn’t jealousy he felt, just longing. Seeing you so gentle with someone you were viciously fighting with the night before made him want you more. No matter what was said and done, there was too much love in this cramped little van.

When Jeno’s breathing leveled out and his hand went slack in yours, you finally relaxed. You’d be damned if he went days without sleep. There wasn’t much you could do, but the boys had their limits and you did your best to make sure they weren’t crossed.

Without another word, you clambered into the driver’s seat and turned the key, driving out of the club parking lot and onto the main road. You found a shopping center where Mark and Haechan could run errands while Jeno was out, and you pulled in.

Jeno slept well into the afternoon, stirring when the smell of hot food filled the van. Haechan used some of the gig money to splurge on delicious Chinese takeout.

You pulled out a foldable table from behind the cabinet and stood it up on the floor. The four of you sat around it and ate in silence, stuffing your faces until your bellies were full. You and Haechan gabbed a little, but not much. Mark and Jeno didn’t mutter a single word, both of them stuck in their feelings.

A far cry from how they would be that night.

One last show in Chicago. You were back on the same stage as before. It was the first time the band would perform an additional night at a club.

Jeno and Mark were squabbling, which was a rare enough sight to see. The two generally didn’t like to fuck with each other. It always resulted in fists flying and both were surprisingly really good at scrapping.

You looked to Haechan and rolled your eyes. Your best friend was smiling, on the verge of a laugh.

“We’re doing the third set,” Jeno said firmly.

“She can’t,” Mark replied, anger rising. “Her voice is fried from last night. The third set could knock it out for weeks and we’ll have no singer.”

Jeno shrugged. “She can take it.”

You were thoroughly annoyed. “She’s standing right here,” you spoke up, folding your arms. The audacity they had. It made you bristle, because you knew it had nothing to do with your voice and had everything to do with your body.

“What do you want to do?” Mark asked, softening his voice for you.

Jeno cut in, “Don’t ask her. You have to push her.”

You shot him a nasty scowl. “Stop pushing me.”

“Or what?” He smirked.

You shivered with irritation crossing dangerously toward rage.

“I don’t think you can do the third set,” Jeno said, challenging you, his smirk deepening. “Prove me wrong.”

“I’m not falling for that reverse psychology bullshit.”

“Coward.”

A smug look washed over your face as you hissed, “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me?”

The smile fell off Jeno’s lips. “I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you snapped, but you definitely cared. The wound was still fresh and stung.

Haechan tilted his head when you looked at him. He was always your anchor in the rough seas of Mark and the violent winds of Jeno. “I’m with you, whatever you choose,” he said.

If I ever walked off that stage, my boys would follow. No questions asked. They would follow me into hell and back. Though the four of us would probably just live there indefinitely.

You straightened your shoulders and your tone left no room for argument. “We’re doing the third set.”

Jeno beamed victoriously. Haechan nodded. Mark gave a look mixed between concern and awestruck.

You sang until you were spent; brutally, wholly, and everything in between. Your legs felt like jelly when you walked off stage and your chest ached, lungs taut. The adrenaline, like a performance-enhancing drug, had run its course and you were officially on empty.

It wasn’t unlike you to push yourself to the absolute limit. You loved the stage. You worshiped the power that surged from your voice when you sang into the mic. Pipes for days, Haechan always said.

The dressing room was a sight for sore eyes. You dropped heavily onto one of the sofas and let your head fall back, closing your eyes. Your throat felt like you’d swallowed razors.

“Try not to talk,” Haechan said, holding up his hand when you shot him an irritated look. “I’m not telling you to be quiet. I’m suggesting you let your voice rest.”

You nodded and sunk back into the sofa again.

Mark was vibrating, the energy of the show still pulsing through him. Brimming with energy (the excess turning into courage), he walked over to you and bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to your brow.

You smiled, knowing it was Mark without opening your eyes.

Jeno finally deigned to grace the rest of you with his presence, bursting into the dressing room and exclaiming, “Holy shit, you killed it!”

“And this is where you take all the credit,” you rasped, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

“I’ll wait till you go to bed and then I’ll take all the credit.”

You lifted your head and narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you have some ass to chase?”

Jeno licked his lips. “Nah. I only got eyes for you right now.”

“Pluck them out for all I care.”

“You wanna fuck me so bad you look stupid.”

You waved him away, settling down and closing your eyes again, and wheezed, “Have fun with your hand.”

Haechan sat beside you, picking up your legs and draping them over his lap. “I’ve never seen you so mad at him.”

“He just doesn’t stop,” you huffed. “You know when to leave me alone. Mark never pushes my buttons. Jeno just keeps fucking digging.”

Haechan chuckled. “That’s all he knows how to do.”

“Whatever.” You shrugged, feigning indifference.

Mark suddenly asked, “Do you love him?”

You sighed. “I love all three of you. He’s definitely my least favorite though.”

Mark gleamed proudly at Jeno, who scowled back.

“So, if we were drowning, who would you save first?” Haechan asked mischievously.

“Mark. Obviously.”

Mark’s grin widened, while Haechan gasped and put a hand over his heart like it was the ultimate betrayal.

“You can swim,” you said, patting Haechan’s arm over your legs. You opened your eyes and gave Jeno a vicious sneer. “Jeno’s the only one drowning.”

Jeno’s lips squared into a frown.

“What’s that mean?” Mark asked curiously, but Haechan stayed silent. He knew.

“Leave it,” Jeno warned, darker than ever.

The three of you did. Unlike Jeno, you knew when to quit.

Some people did drugs. Others did rock music. A few did both.

The boys dispersed momentarily. You were relieved when the dressing room was empty, leaving you to your thoughts and the searing pain in your vocal chords. Rubbing at your eyes, smearing your makeup, you didn’t hear someone come back in as you muttered to yourself, “God, my throat fucking hurts.”

“It’s probably raw as shit,” Jeno said, making you jolt. And roll your eyes. He cleared his throat and switched his tone to add, “Speaking of raw…”

“No.”

“You let Mark in raw,” he whined loudly.

You cut him a glare. “I wouldn’t let you raw me if you were the last man on earth.”

Jeno pouted. “Ow.”

With a scoff, you decided to turn the tables on him. “Why are you so hard for me the past few days? I can’t even brush my teeth without you humping the air around me.”

There was no shame to be found in Jeno. “I haven’t had you in weeks,” he groaned.

Your lips parted in surprise. “You’ve had every other girl in the country.”

“It’s not the same.”

You stood and crept close to him, close enough to ghost your lips over his mouth. Jeno went boneless, every inch of him fixated to you and what you would do next. He wanted you so bad he couldn’t see straight. So, you decided to yank the metaphorical rug out from under him, sniping, “You’re pathetic.”

“Are you really going to hold that against me forever?” Jeno asked, tensing.

No. It was just easier to be mad at him. That was the only way I could have some defense against the power he had over me.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, sliding your hands over his shoulders and winding your fingers into his hair. “Answer one question for me and I’ll forgive you.”

Jeno was one more breath away from kissing you. He knew it was a trap. You were luring him in and he was happy to swallow the bait. “Fine,” he replied in a husky voice, eyes on your lips. “Ask your damn question.”

“What are you taking?”

“What do you mean?”

You hardened your gaze on him and tugged on his hair. “Don’t play that with me. I know better.”

Jeno studied you a moment. You would keep yanking this thread until it unraveled. He pushed, you pulled. The two of you could play tug-of-war with each other’s heartstrings forever. Jeno decided it was better to rip the bandage off and get it over with it.

He reached to the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a bag, and handed it out to you.

You took a split-second look at the bag and your jaw dropped, your arms falling as you snatched it quickly. “Cocaine? Are you fucking kidding me, Jeno?”

Jeno stole the bag back in the time it took you to blink, returning it to the safety of his pocket. “We’re supposed to do drugs,” he defended, rather unconvincingly. “We’re rockstars.”

“We’re teenagers that just graduated high school with barely enough cash for fuel and chips!”

“How I spend my cut of the money is my business,” Jeno shot back.

“This isn’t about the money.” You folded your arms, scolding him like a mother would a child; oscillating between angry and worried. “You know how dangerous that shit is.”

Jeno shifted his approach too, ever your mirror. “It’s the only way I can perform, babe. If I don’t have it, I can’t focus and I get too nervous.”

You softened even more, like Jeno knew you would. “We can get you something else,” you said gently. “Something better. Safer.”

He scoffed. “With our gas and chips money?”

You sighed, accepting a temporary defeat, but you pressed, “You’re doing it to get high. Not to concentrate.”

Jeno went slack, equally defeated, and reached for your waist. “I’m just trying to have a good time. We know this won’t last. We’re going nowhere.”

You lowered your head. “I know.”

The summer was half over and we hadn’t been scouted. Hope was replaced with disappointment and eventually, disappointment would flip to resentment. We never put it into words, but it was like a cloud following us, day and night.

Jeno took your face in his hands and tipped your chin up until you met his eyes. “Let me have this summer,” he whispered sadly. “Mark got you. I got this.”

Something inside you broke a little.

Yes, when the summer was over, you were Mark’s.

But the summer wasn’t over.

Jeno smiled in surprise when he felt the warmth of your lips on his, but he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and deepen the kiss. Feeling the heat of your body against his was what he’d been craving, wanting you to burn him alive.

My first instinct always was to comfort him. I would chip away at myself and give him every piece if it meant he could use them to stitch his wounds.

Believe it or not, Jeno was my first love, but a first love at fifteen means nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was my first everything, but we just didn’t work. No matter how hard we tried. There was a mad and intense connection between us, inseverable, but in the confines of a relationship, we were wild animals forced together in a cage.

I know few will understand us. Hell, even I don’t understand how I could have so much passion and fire for someone that stretched me thin and forever kept me at the brink of insanity.

But I was beyond questioning it.

Jeno slipped his tongue in your mouth and you grabbed his hips, pulling him flush against you. His kisses were surpassing hungry and landing somewhere near ravenous. The intensity must have scared him, because Jeno suddenly parted from you and took a step back.

You rubbed your lips bashfully, not realizing you were panting until it was the only sound in the quiet dressing room. And Jeno was breathing just as heavily.

“What’s wrong?”

Jeno shook his head. “I want you so bad.”

You snickered. Here you were on a silver platter and he was the one that put distance between you.

Though you opened your mouth to say something snarky, Jeno spoke up, “But you’re going to leave me.”

Your heart sank. It dawned on you; this summer was the end to a lot of things. Youth was ending. The band was ending and with it, all of your dreams.

And the tie between me and Jeno would have to finally be severed so my life with Mark could start.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. You didn’t want to think about Jeno and his broken heart. Or that the drugs you scolded him over were what he used to fill the void you left behind.

Jeno respected the hell out of you for having the strength to leave him. He never could walk away from you even though he knew it was for the best. You would spend your whole life trying to fix him while he would always use you as a crutch.

It wasn’t fair to either you or him.

“Mark is good for you,” Jeno said in barely a whisper, his eyes glistening.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about Mark.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. Seeing his pain reflected back at him on your face was too much. “Get high with me.”

Your eyes went wide. “Why?”

“You’re my person,” he said, vulnerable. “The only one I’ve ever wanted to do it with.”

This was what you struggled to put into words - the hold this boy had on you. He was bottomless ocean depths.

“It’s always you and me. We do everything together,” Jeno continued, reaching for your hand and leaving a kiss on your knuckles.

You let him pull you back into his arms and asked, “What if I die?”

“I’ll bring you back,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your brow that completely melted you.

“What if you die?”

“Let me go.”

Your eyes suddenly shone with the threat of tears. “Never.”

Jeno leaned into you, stealing a kiss from your lips. “Just this once, babe.”

You paused, thinking it over. Everything inside you screamed, “Yes!” Jeno never failed to bring this side out of you - the reckless, starved one that didn’t give a damn about consequences. You always feared if that was the real you, the true you. “Just this once,” you said quietly, closing your eyes as Jeno sealed his lips to yours again.

The idea of getting high reached out to you with gentle, caressing fingertips, promising to banish the pain and numb the hurt.

Tearing himself away from you once more, Jeno walked over to the door and locked it.

Yet another first time with Jeno to add to my list.

You were caught off-guard at how fast the high kicked in and never before had you noticed how tense your body was until it wasn’t anymore. Your mind was even lighter. There was no more torment. You could feel that it was there, but it didn’t ache any longer.

The sensation was indescribable. You were whole, perfect, immortal and invincible all at once.

And that was how you found yourself on the couch with Jeno, pawing at each other like animals in heat.

“Jeno?”

“I know.”

You sucked in a breath as he nipped at your neck and asked weakly, “Am I going crazy?”

“Babe,” he said, meeting your eyes with a smirk. “You been crazy.”

You laughed and the sound was music to Jeno’s ears, making his smile widen.

Time blurred together. It could have been the next day or the next year for all you cared. All you knew was this moment with Jeno and how it lasted a lifetime.

You sank deeper into the sofa beneath Jeno’s weight. Your thighs were hooked on his hips, hands roaming his taut, muscly back. Both your shirt and his tee were somewhere on the floor, along with your bra.

Jeno kept grinding into you, each movement rougher than the last. “Fuck,” he swore, lips brushing your ear. “I just know you’re getting so fucking wet right now.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A wanton noise of pleasure escaped you and Jeno ate it up. You were burning by a thousand degrees, it was almost painful. You had never craved someone’s body on such a primal level before.

With Mark, it was love, but this? This was lust running wild with abandon.

The doorknob wiggled. You didn’t hear it over the loud thumping in your ears and neither did Jeno, who was far too busy bruising your neck whilst he kneaded your breasts, pinching your nipples to make you squirm. Haechan didn’t need to try the knob again to know what was going on. He turned to Mark, who was coming down the hall, and led him away.

“They’re working out their issues. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said hurriedly. Mark hesitated, but didn’t argue. He was none the wiser. With the way you and Jeno had been at each other’s throats, it never crossed his mind that you would fuck him.

Meanwhile, you were discovering new uncharted levels of arousal, undulating beneath Jeno, trying to match his movements, which were getting faster and harder. The drugs in your system made everything feel more intense, all-consuming. There was no tension, no insecurity, just instinct and pleasure.

Jeno was definitely waiting for you to give him the green light, and you were enjoying keeping it from him, but the throbbing between your legs was unbearable.

You planted your hands on his thick chest and pushed, making Jeno prop over you and look into your face. “Wanna fuck now?” you asked sheepishly.

His pupils dilated. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You whined when Jeno clambered off of you, standing next to the sofa and unfastening his pants. Before he drew them down his thighs, he pulled condoms from his pocket and dropped them on your lap.

“Two?” You snorted. “My lucky day.”

“One for each girl. You know, the ones you chased away from me.”

Licking your lips as his hard cock sprang into view, you grabbed him by the hips and purred, “I called first dibs on that dick years ago.”

Jeno chuckled, but his expression changed on a dime when you leaned in. He watched you drag your lips over his abs, kissing and nibbling along his happy trail. His breaths stuttered as he said, “Whenever you want it, it’s all yours.”

You peeked up at him hotly. “I want it now.”

While Jeno fitted himself with a condom, you shimmied out of your pants and underwear, and the moment they were on the floor, you turned onto your knees, braced yourself on the arm of the sofa, and arched your back, sticking your ass in the air.

He wouldn’t be able to resist it for a second.

“Fuck you,” Jeno hissed, getting into position behind you and raking his cock between your folds, gathering your slick from tip to base.

You wiggled your hips. Your brain was clouded with lust and drugs, and something purely hungry for Jeno. Like he was your favorite meal. “Gimme it,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder. “What the fuck is taking so long?”

Jeno gave your ass a smack, making you squeak. “You need to calm down,” he chided with a grin, still sliding his length between your slit. He was so riled up his hips jerked against you involuntarily.

You reached between your legs, getting a hand around his dick and steering it into your aching pussy. Jeno let you, biting his lip and smirking at how goddamn horny you were for him.

The head of his cock pressed into your entrance and you grasped the arm of the sofa with both hands as Jeno began thrusting forward, working himself inside until he impaled you on every last inch of his girthy cock. You buried your face in the couch, biting down on the stressed leather.

Jeno gripped your waist tight and drew you to him until he was balls deep in your tight heat, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around his length. The drugs amplified everything about you; your warmth, your scent, your sounds. He barely noticed the condom at all.

When he drew back and shoved his cock back into your cunt, you lifted your head and cried, “Fuck!”

“You’re so wet,” Jeno growled, sinking in and out to hear your slick pussy welcoming him back.

You whimpered. “Fuck you and that big dick,” you mumbled, but you didn’t mean a word of it. You weren’t sure how much you could blame the drugs anymore. You wanted him to plow the living shit out of you until there was nothing left.

Jeno took that personally. As a challenge more than anything. He squeezed your waist in his hands and smacked his hips into your ass, driving his cock into your core and giving you something to really whine about.

It was all you could do not to scream as he took you for all you were worth. You fisted the couch in your hands until your knuckles ached and you threw yourself back to meet his strokes, a noise escaping on your hoarse throat with every rushed breath. Sex was a drug all its own. It just felt too damn good.

Jeno kept his hard pace, making sure he landed flush against your heat every time, and brushed his hands up your body to wrap them around your throat and tip your head back. “Yeah, that’s my good slut,” he taunted, the smack of his body colliding with yours getting louder. “She’s taking all that dick, huh?”

The sounds you made were humiliating, but they only made Jeno harder. His grip on your neck had you slack-jawed, your eyes winched closed. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!

It wasn’t fair that he had that kind of power over my body. With him, I felt desired and powerful, and between that - untainted. Unbroken. Jeno never saw me for the damaged goods that I was. To him, I was always perfect. He completed me. No matter how unhealthy it was, I wanted it.

I didn’t need drugs. Jeno’s love was my high.

“Don’t stop,” you choked out, his hands heavy on your strained vocal chords. “Don’t ever stop...”

Loving me. Though the words wouldn’t come, Jeno knew them.

“Never, baby,” Jeno said, releasing your throat in favor of your waist, draping himself over you and burying his face in your neck. His hands wandered your breasts as he plunged in as far as he could go and stopped, leaving a few scattered, reassuring kisses across your shoulders.

Your body trembled when he bottomed out, aching with need and overstimulation. You swallowed to wet your throat, panting for air, and asked, “Why are you…?”

“You’re so fucking high, baby,” Jeno crooned, touching you gently and affectionately. “Just trust me.”

He was right. You were high on drugs and his body. You were a nerve laid bare, every brush of his hands enough to make you shiver. Your body pulsated, like you were being dangled over the edge, the pressure becoming too much to bear.

You held yourself up on hands and knees, tortured by the fact he was no longer moving inside you, but his hands playing with your breasts and his lips on your neck had your attention. The stimulation was sending more shudders across your skin, making you lean into his touch as your core throbbed for him.

“Part of you will always be mine,” Jeno whispered into your neck. “I know you’ll pick him over me, but part of you will always miss me.”

You tensed with unshed tears and cried, “I know.”

“I need you to know it’s okay,” Jeno said, turning your head and kissing you with so much pain and pleasure it knocked the wind out of you.

You kissed him back, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. It was a cruel curse - to love someone so deeply that was bad for you.

Jeno broke the kiss and rocked gently into you, staying in deep and lilting his cock inside your walls, the head of him kissing your cervix. Normally, you would have pushed at his hips for some mercy, but the high made you impervious to pain.

Suddenly, he thrust in hard but slow, arching his hips. You staggered out a moan and reached out to steady yourself, almost knocked off balance by his strength.

He did it again and again.

Tears pricked at your eyes. Jeno was hitting you with those drawn-out, domineering strokes, making you feel every inch of him slam against your sweet spot. He may have agreed to never hold you choosing Mark over him against you, but he was going to give you one final reminder of how absolute his control of your body was.

“I’m coming,” you warned, his name a mantra on your tongue as you took all he had to give. You were grateful for the roar of music coming from the other side of the wall, drowning out your cries and Jeno’s moans.

Jeno fisted a hand in your hair while the other still tugged and rolled your nipples. He kept his pace, hips slapping into your ass at a perfect rhythm, knowing you were on the edge of orgasm with the way your walls clamped down on his cock.

“Fuck!” Another brutal thrust sent you into ecstasy. You shook and swore, trying to crawl away from him, but Jeno was on you, shoving you into the couch and riding out your high.

“Good girl,” Jeno hissed, watching you writhe beneath him. He went still and tipped his head back, letting out a tiny moan.

You blinked to clear your eyes. You could feel the bruises forming in your skin as Jeno pinned you to the couch. It only turned you on more. When you realized he was still hard, that he hadn’t come, you mumbled under your breath. He was supposed to finish with you.

Jeno’s eyes flickered. Another moan escaped him as you rolled your hips, desperate for friction. He drifted his hands to your hair, gathering it all in his fists.

You sat up and went to work, fucking him as best you could in your position. Despite the condom, your pussy wanted to milk every drop of cum out of his dick. Post-nut clarity hadn’t set in. Either the drugs or the orgasm made you even more feral for this dumb boy.

“Oh, fuck,” Jeno groaned, watching you throw it back, bouncing your ass on him, taking him like a fucking champ. His abs tightened as he tried not to pound the fuck out of you. Instead, he reeled his hand back and slapped your ass, goading you.

“Come for me, baby,” you said darkly, the room echoing with the loud, wet clap of your bodies meeting.

Jeno growled a low curse in this throat. Suddenly he was on the edge, driven by your command and that tight fucking cunt.

You shrieked in surprise when he flipped you over roughly, the sound devolving into a moan when he steered his cock back into your pussy, grabbed your waist, and drilled into you like he would never get the chance again.

He didn’t last long at that pace. Jeno threw his head back and came, one moan after another tumbling from his pretty mouth, each one more ragged than the last as he emptied himself into the condom.

You brushed your hands over his thighs and hips, whispering little nothings as he came, feeling him shake like a leaf as he buried himself inside you. Once Jeno settled down, you touched his chest and asked, “Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he wheezed, voice cracking, all the air knocked out of him.

Biting your lip to fight a laugh, you failed to hide the smug grin taking over your face.

“Don’t,” Jeno said weakly, rubbing at his eyes.

“You just came so hard you cried,” you teased, pinching his nipple for good measure.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Feeling him about to pull out, you reached for his waist and held him there, joking, “I will remember this, forever and ever, and I will bring it up every time you get on my nerves.”

“You’re the worst.” He sobered, leaning in close. “And you’re the best I've ever had.”

You smiled as he kissed you, sealing his words on your lips. Then you giggled as his mouth traveled over your chest, sucking on a nipple. Your buds were still stiff and Jeno couldn’t resist.

“I see how easy it is to get addicted,” you said when Jeno got up to discard the condom. “That shit is intense.”

“Told you.”

Sitting up, you ran your hands through your messy hair. You could only imagine how you looked; makeup smeared, glistening with sweat. “You know you have to stop,” you told him, making your voice gentle.

Jeno afforded you no looks. “Eventually.”

You were too tired to argue, sore and spent in the best ways. When Jeno returned to the couch, you welcomed him with open arms, pulling him close and steering him to lay his head on your naked chest. You stroked your fingers through his hair and over his broad shoulders, and whispered, “I’ll never let you die, Jeno.”

He stayed quiet.

“You’re not allowed to leave me.”

“Stalker.”

You snorted back a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Jeno lifted his head and nuzzled your cheek, teasing, “I just think it’s cute how obsessed you are with me.”

You kept touching him. His skin was just so hot beneath your fingertips, like caressing an open flame. “Are you really okay with dying?” you asked after a moment.

Jeno shrugged. “It’s unavoidable. I don’t see the point in sweating over it.” As he spoke, Jeno kissed at your neck slowly, curious if he could get you riled up again.

Your lashes fluttered and you shifted underneath him. Though he left you more than satisfied, the longer he kissed over your pulse and palmed your breasts, the quicker the ache in your core came back, ready to be filled up again.

Jeno reached down to cup your sex, running his finger over your swollen clit and swearing under his breath when he felt your soaked entrance, thinking how easily he could slide right back in and make you feel good. Both of you.

“If you died,” you stammered, struggling to form words as he touched you. “I don’t think I would ever smile again.”

Jeno was caught off-guard. He stopped pawing at you to look in your eyes, wondering if you realized just how heavy a thing that was to say. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he told you innocently, kissing the corner of your mouth with affection.

It was the first time you’d seen him so serious. Not hiding behind his usual humor.

Jeno was surprised when you pushed him away and reached for your pants on the floor. He watched curiously as you rifled through your pocket and withdrew a balled-up piece of paper and handed it to him.

“For the memoir?”

You nodded, watching him unfurl the page, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. “Yeah, I’m constantly jotting stuff down.”

Jeno’s eyes drifted over your words.

I can’t stand him. He infuriates me. He makes me crazy. But Jeno is the one person that knows me - the good and the bad, and accepts them both.

I love my boys, but he’s the one I don’t think I could ever live without.

Jeno peered at you with glassy eyes, shining with tears. “Damn it,” he groaned, crashing his lips on yours.

As expected, you made use of that second condom.

Jeno hooked your legs in the crooks of his arms and thrust languidly, staring down at you. Your eyes never parted as he gave you release once more, knowing when the summer was over, he would never get to touch you again.

When all was said and done, the two of you slumped into opposite sides of the sofa, soaked with sweat. Once you caught your breath and Jeno returned from tossing the condom, it was your turn to clamber on top of him, using his chest as your pillow. You rested your head on his shoulder and traced senseless patterns over his collarbone with your fingertips.

Jeno said your name. “I want you to be happy. That’s all I want, but I know I can’t give it to you. I tried.”

You closed your eyes. It would keep the tears at bay. “I know.”

“I feel sorry for you, loving all three of us. It can’t be easy.”

“It’s what I was made for,” you said softly, tightening your arms around him, lest he fly away from you and never return.

Jeno changed subjects before it broke him. “I’ve never felt so self-aware of how it feels to be young. And how it doesn’t last long.”

You nodded slightly. “This time is precious.”

“I wouldn’t say precious. Definitely fun though.”

You snickered, relieved to hear his humor coming back, but a somber feeling rushed over you. “Do you think we’ll ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?”

“The performing, the fucking, and… the drugs.”

Jeno paused. “You mean each other.”

You sighed tersely. There was no hiding it from him.

My biggest fear was that my boys would hate me. That I would be a bitter reminder of what could have been, how close we were to our dreams before crash landing back on earth, broken and bruised forever from the fall.

Jeno brushed his fingers up and down your back, and kissed the top of your head. “I don’t think we’ll resent each other if this fails, babe,” he said in a low voice. Some things just aren’t meant to be, he thought sadly. Like you and me.

“If that happened, I think I would die,” you whimpered, burrowing your face in his chest.

“Don’t talk like that,” Jeno said, running his hand mischievously over your thigh. “But stop being so afraid of death. You’ll waste your life running from something that is going to catch you no matter what.”

You tipped your head back to kiss him. “I just know the devil dreads meeting us. We’ll steal his throne.”

Jeno kissed you back hotly. “Hell yeah. I can’t wait to fuck you on it.”

You laughed.

Hard to steal something that already belongs to you, Jeno.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

#nct #nct smut #jeno #jeno smut #nct dream smut #jeno x reader

[imaginesig]

The Y/l’s

Logan Sargent x journalist!reader smau

Similar to Allison and Issac Rochelle Kutch, the internet decided that you are not a Sargent, but rather Logan is a Y/l. I imagine this takes place years in the future (Logan isn't 22 and in his rookie season but a little older)

logansargent

Liked by: Alex_albon, daltonsargent, y/nsargent, and 369,298 others

logansargent: I recommend marrying your childhood crush. Y/n, this past year of being your husband has been incredible, every year I get to count as being yours is better than the last. It's always been you -Your husband ❤️

Tagged y/nsargent

y/nsargent from friends to “friends” to dating to married, who wouldn’t thunk it! Love you so much Lo❤️

logansargent love you more ❤️

alex_albon “friends” is crazy

daltonsargent those teen years were something

user1 my standards aren’t high, I just want a man who will openly declare himself mine on main

Williamsracing our fav bride💙

y/nsargent Williams admin 🔛🔝

user2 I cant decide if I love or hate the idea of wrecking the dress at the end of the reception 🫠

oscarpiastri I can’t believe I’ve had to deal with y’all for so long

logansargent do you want compensation or something??

y/nsargent here’s a cookie for your troubles 🍪

user3 "its always been you" SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

y/nsargent

Liked by lilymhe, oscarpiatri, logansargent, and 275,230 others

y/nsargent been making Sargent look good for a whole year 💪💪 Logan, it’s been a fairytale with you!! Thank you for being here for everything and showing me that long distance is worth it❤️

Tagged logansargent

logansargent you make Sargent look damn good baby❤️

y/nsargent 🥰

lilymhe absolutely stunning- one of my favorite days ever!!

y/nsargent best maid of honor ever (even though you showed me up at my own wedding)

lilymhe i couldn’t never show you up (you can get payback at mine promise)

y/nsargent can’t wait!! @/alex_albon tick tick

alex_albon you’re either flirting with her or encouraging a proposal

user1 uugh the wedding collage is such a vibe 😫

user2 literal goals

y/nsargent

Liked by user5, logansargent, user8, and 504,394 others

y/nsargent: the grind>>>

Tagged: no one

user1 full time journalist AND full time wag

user2 what can’t she do

logansargent it don’t stop 💪😎

landonorris ok frat boy

user3 Logan is the real trophy husband here

oscarpiastri real

user4 OSCAR?? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??

lilymhe I’m still in awe of your ability to work on a plane

y/nsargent it’s less of my ability to and more of that Coke next to me in the first pic 💀

user5 LMAO

user6 I love how she never misses watching a race

user7 especially bc her schedule is already so crazy

user8 fr she’s constantly flying from one place to another writing for a million companies

user9 She's everything and he's just Ken

logansargent

Liked by landonorris, williamsracing, user12, and 474,393 others

logansargent Podium in my home race for my good luck charm- it'll always be you 🍀🏆

Tagged williamsracing, y/nsargent

y/nsargent when he dedicated his home race to you >>>

landonorris he talks like a frat dude and you talk like you’re chronically on tik tok…

oscarpiastri match made in heaven

y/nsargent I don’t remember inviting this energy into my comment thread

user1 screaming crying throwing up

user2 “my good luck charm” 🤸🏼‍♀️🚊

user3 sleeping on the Highway

user4 toaster bath bomb fr fr

user5 Logan making it on the podium and still bringing up his wife is literal trophy husband behavior

user6 Logan Y/l fr fr

user7 who’s Logan Sargent anyway? Ew

y/nsargent 👀 @/lilymhe

lilymhe well when you bring Taylor into the convo…

Williamsracing on three everyone say thank you y/n

y/nsargent thank you y/n

Alex_albon girlie bffr

user8 why am I crying? no reason just Logan always telling it is or it always will be her

y/nsargent

Liked by lilymhe, user3, user1, and 208,829 others

y/nsargent wreck my plans that’s my man 🇺🇸🦅

Tagged logansargent, Williamsracing

logansargent and what did I do to deserve a T Swift caption??

y/nsargent just by being the trophy husband you are ❤️

logansargent proudly ❤️

user1 y/n always delivers 10/10 Logan content

user2 the emojis💀

lilymhe that pic is literal goals

y/nsargent we're literal goals

lilymhe love you bae

logansargent do we have any defense here

Alex_albon none mate

Y/nsargent with spokeswomen

liked by taylorswift, lilymhe, Serenawilliams, and 960,483 others

y/nsargent: no one is gonna tell you this kid, but I can now. You are gonna have so many sleepless nights, so many long plane rides across the world, so many abandoned relationships, and so so many tears. You're gonna cover more sports games, fashion shows, and political events than you ever thought possible. You will hit the very rock bottom of it all multiple times, but you’ll keep going. Thank God that you did, because now you have multiple awards under your belt as well as your own news provider, @/spokeswomen!

I don't know what the future will look like other than more busy, busy days but thank you to everyone who has supported me on this journey and will continue to 🫶🫶

Tagged: spokeswomen

lilymhe your journey has been so so inspirational to women in all fields! I am so excited that because of you and your connections the world now has another safe space for female based news!! 💖

y/nsargent love you lil!! You are as much as an inspiration to me💖

logansargent I'll be your coffee runner forever if it means shit like this gets done 👏

y/nsargent you're gonna regret saying that user6 we love a supportive husband user7 Mr. Y/l raising standards everywhere

taylorswift such a incredible creation!! So many wonderful stories are gonna be shared and many necessary actions will be kicked started here-- you have a loyal follower

y/nsargent ahh thank you so much!! It is such an honor to read this, especially after all the hype sessions to "The Man" and "Mad Women"

user1 if @/spokeswomen has a hundred followers I'm one, if they have 1 its me, and if they have 0 I'm dead

user2 I love the idea of all women based and written articles on a wide range of topics-- they website/media pages are so aesthetic too😫

user3 so Logan goes vroom vroom for a job while Y/n created an entire news company to share women's voices??

user4 official petition to have their last names changed to Y/l

liked by y/nsargent and lilymhe

user5 live, laugh, love Y/n Y/l

serenawilliams it's people like you who make the world a better place

y/nsargent likewise- you've been one of my biggest inspirations

logansargent

liked by oscarpiastri, Alex_albon, user94, and 573,902 others

logansargent: the setup v.s the view 😍

tagged: y/nsargent

y/nsargent is this a thirst trap for our marriage??

lilymhe you can take the boy away from the frat boy mentality, but you can't take the mentality out of the boy...

user1 men<< women fr fr

y/nsargent Logan Y/l energy

user2 LMAO Y/N 💀

user3 SHE KNOWS

logansargent how does that equate to Kenergy

williamsracing room with a view 🫶

User4 his hands???

User5 foaming at the mouth

User6 what does she use to do her hair? It looks great

Williamsracing

Liked by y/nsargent, user4, logansargent

Williamsracing: the air smells like a podium for Mr. Y/l this weekend‼️

Tagged logansargent

User1 Babe wake up Williams called Logan Y/l

Y/nsargent Williams gets it

Lilymhe the word is spreading

Logansargent I’m still just as confused as in Y/n’s comment section

Y/nsargent don’t worry babe

oscarpiastri it’s your true form

user2 *eagle screech*

user3 the last name was the final factor to becoming the ultimate trophy husband

user4 lmao he's about to ascend

Y/nsargent

Liked by lilymhe, partner1, user4, and 847,280 others

Y/nsargent vacation with the Y/n’s

Tagged Logansargent

Logansargent I feel like I’m losing my manly man cred with this new trend

Alex_albon don’t worry man you can’t lose what you never had

Lilymhe Alex you're one to talk

y/nsargent BAHAHAHAH

user1 not Logan losing his mind over this 😭

User2 “my manly man cred” ROLLING

oscarpiastri he called me to complain about this

User3 not Dalton telling on him

Logansargent if you’ve spent the amount of time I have talking with her abt being a SARGENT and then spend over a year with the name SARGENT you’d be concerned too

Y/nsargent awww lo 🥺

logansargent

Liked by ylnsargent, landonorris, user9, and 736,028 others

Logansargent can’t here y'all up here

Tagged y/nsargent

Y/nsargent get them with the clap back baby!!

Lilymhe we’re rooting for you!!

Logansargent y’all are both assholes

User1 Leia ate

logansargent golden hour goddess

user2 oh to travel to the mountains with my husband and our dog

y/nsargent I'd also like to add Leia has my last name at the vet...

logansargent too bad I don't go to the vet as well

user3 LMAO

user4 we love the middle school comebacks

user5 this entire family has pretty privilege

lilymhe

liked by y/nsargent. alex_albon, logansargent, and 720,208 others

lilymhe dinner with the He's and Y/l's

tagged: y/nsargent, logansargent, Alex_albon

y/nsargent I missed our dinners

lilymhe same!! screw adult life with adult responsibilities

user1 that looks so good

user2 oh to be invited to a dinner with Y/n and Lily

user3 why does that salad look so plain💀

Alex_albon wondeful night darling ❤️ thank you to everyone involved for trusting mine and Logan's cooking

logansargent a very big thank you

user4 he's just building the resume, soon all Y/n will need to do is work and be pretty

logansargent that's the goal

y/nsargent

liked by taylorswift, user9, lilymhe, and 938,238 others

y/nsargent we've hit 1 million followers on @/spokeswomen!! This project has meant so much to me and to see it grow has been unreal!! Thank you to the wonderful group of women who stand beside me and help keep this dream afloat- I love y'all more than words💖

Logan (and Leia), thank you for all the nights you've held me together when I wanted to fall apart and quit this project. You saw the vision that was so much bigger than me. I love you so much ❤️

tagged: spokeswomen, logansargent, partner1, partner2, partner3, partner4

user1 since they adopted Leia she's been in every post of theirs 😭

user2 they're so real for it

partner2 I'm forever in awe of your hard work and how you made a dream your reality!!

logansargent you have always and will always be the one for me, wether or not 7 y/o me knew it. You are such an inspiration to me always. I will always pick you up when you fall, because you've always been the wind beneath me to keep me soaring high ❤️

y/nsargent now I'm crying at work, I love you so much Lo❤️

user3 that office in an introverts nightmare

y/nsargent don't worry! Everyone's preference and comfort was taken into account when designing- we have plenty of support for all kinds of social types. Plus we've all grown close so it feels more casual than cold and business-y

user4 that's so considerate

partner3 she's the best boss ever

partner1 I'm in debt to you everyday for bring me onto this amazing project- I cannot wait to see what the future holds

user5 aww Logan and Leia

Alex_albon top tier dog dad right there

lilymhe when can we get one

Alex_albon with what time?

y/nsargent you're so right, y'all are too busy for a dog. Now a specific diamond ring however...

lilymhe you heard the lady

logansargent

liked by y/nsargent, daltonsargent, landonorris, and 824,202 others

logansargent cheers to 2 whole years of marriage! I never want to imagine a reality where we aren't together- thank you so much for all the support and love. The only girl you could ever come second to is Leia. I promise to forever bring you coffee, make sure you rest, and mostly importantly love you. Its always been you- Mr. Y/l

tagged: Y/nsargent

y/nsargent ALERT THE PUBLIC HE SAID MR. Y/L

user6 "its always been you- Mr. Y/n" I can't handle this rn

user7 Logan finally used Y/l

user8 as much as I hated the wait, this was the best time for him to do it

y/nsargent I love you so much Lo, I'm holding you up to your promises- specially the last one

logansargent yes ma'am

user1 YOURE TELLING ME HER WEDDING RING IS ENGRAVED WITH WHAT HE ALWAYS TOLD/TELLS HER

user2 the childhood friends to lovers trope is truly magical

user3 God it's me again

user4 I just want a man who will openly admit his love, as well as say it's always been me

user5 Y/n just lives in a romance novel

lilymhe my absolute favorites 🫶 many years of happiness and adventures to you three

y/nsargent 🫶

Alex_albon congrats on the big 2!! Love you both

logansargent thank you man

williamsracing we're not crying over the Y/l's, you are🥹

f1 in this house we support the Sargent's/Y/l's

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #Logan sergeant imagine #williams racing #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 #formula 1 smau #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #Logan sergeant smau #alex albon

[santacoppelia]

The HUGE analysis - This season starts and ends with a discussion, doesn't it?

Ok, my loves. This was one of the really long metas I've been working with, and probably the one that has taken me the longest (because it depended a lot on rewatching the season time and again).

I couldn't help to notice that the fist interaction Aziraphale and Crowley have in season 2 is a fight, really. Yeah, we have the beautiful “in the beginning” sequence, with both of them being angels and happy and all the such (oh, how lovely, Neil Gaiman planting the seeds of why it will matter to us that Aziraphale will not be fighting the idea of inviting Crowley to Heaven, because he remembers that happy, careless guy). But after the intro, we see them having a big disagreement… And we end the season in the biggest disagreement they have had, probably, in 6,000 years.

I love over-analyzing and dissecting narratives and characters, and more so if I can use only what we’ve been shown in the screen. Therefore, I believe that the first fight of the season tells us a lot of the things we will need to know to understand the final fight of the season between them. Let’s take a look, shall we?

The first fight is motivated by having an amnesiac Gabriel in the bookshop.

They see the same circumstance: Gabriel in the bookshop means trouble with Heaven. He is also an individual risk, because he has menaced Aziraphale directly (well, Crowley under the visage of Aziraphale).

It affects each of them differently: even when they both panic, Aziraphale feels compelled to be kind to Gabriel (gives him a blanket and hot cocoa) while Crowley has a full-on panic induced reaction and gets defensive.

They propose opposite solutions: Azi wants to do the Good thing, taking the “higher road” (help Gabriel), while Crowley wants to do His Own thing: “Protect the precious, peaceful, fragile existence I have carved for myself”

At that moment, Aziraphale corrects him and marks a “we”, which is very interesting. But immediately after that, Aziraphale gets all "my way or the highway".

Crowley asks for clarification, with a well-leveled tone of voice: “Is this how it is going to go?”

Azi clarifies "no, I want you to help me!" But then he does the passive-aggressive thing: "if you won't, you won't". (oh, Aziraphale, how you triggered me here, my dear chap. I was angry at the character the first 6 times I saw this)

Therefore, Crowley is out. He marks a clear limit: “I won't. You are on your own”, and then storms out. No Eccles cakes would help him: he needs a breather and counting to 10. That doesn't help either.

Crowley only comes back after gaining an extra perspective: the "extreme sanctions" talk with Beelzebub.

When he comes back, Aziraphale will stand his ground: he feels he deserves an apology, which is delivered via a “I was wrong, you were right” literal admission (even when he probably wasn't "right", but that's their way... And they've been doing it since 1650, or so they say). Then they are able to work together again.

Now, let’s see how this dynamic plays out in their last discussion of the season:

They come from different sides of the same experience: Crowley went to Heaven to investigate and learned about the plans to continue with the end of the world, while Aziraphale stayed defending the bookshop. Then Crowley saves the humans, while Aziraphale solved the Beelzebub + Gabriel affair.

They haven’t had time to talk, as they get interrupted by The Metatron. While he takes Aziraphale, Crowley receives a visit from Maggie and Nina.

Each one of them gained an extra different perspective: Azi, the Metatron proposal (and veiled menace); Crowley, the pep talk/scolding from the couple they were trying to get together.

This makes them develop different solutions:

Crowley wants to finally admit what Azi has been saying all the season: they are a "we" (Azi said so when Crowley talked about his “precious, peaceful, fragile existence”; he said it again when talking about “our car” and reinforced it with the bookshop)

Azi wants to take the "higher road": go to Heaven, reinstate Crowley as an angel, so they can still work together.

Crowley sees the “usual dynamic” of their disagreements coming: it will be Azi’s way (or the highway). That has happened before, in front of our eyes, and not only in this season: it happened also in season 1, but we have already attested that it is still happening, and it is even “worse” (Aziraphale being a little “petty” with the “if you do, it is fine, but if you won’t, you are on your own” in the Gabriel discussion).

Crowley gets indignant. He asks, tentatively, if he told him where to stick it… And then he reinforces his belief. We are better than that, YOU are better than that, you don’t need them, I don’t need them; then he makes the first mention of the offer of getting back to Hell (which he hadn’t shared with Aziraphale), and makes a new point: I said no, neither should you!

Aziraphale goes back to the “you are the bad guys!” thing. Heaven being the side of Truth, of Light, of Good… It is not the propaganda Crowley needed for this move.

Crowley then clarifies the fallacy in his logic: when Heaven ends life on Earth, it’ll be just as dead as if Hell ended it.

Aziraphale then sees the "undesirable result" coming: Crowley is not going to accept, not with that argument.

Crowley makes his plead grow in urgency: Tell me you said no.

Aziraphale’s pitch of voice goes high (usually used as a sign of distress): “If I’m in charge, I can make a difference.”

Crowley understands. This is his “my way or the highway” moment. That’s why he comes up with the courage to make his half-proposal-half admission.

Crowley never gets to state out loud the “I want us to be together in a formal way” part. His voice breaks before he does so. He mentions all of the reasons they have to stay together, which Aziraphale already knows: we have been together for a long time, we’ve been a group (“our own side” was the way he always said it before) and we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t (Azi also knows that! He has been working hard into making Crowley notice it!)

You can see, when they shoot Aziraphale’s face, he squints a little during that moment: maybe questioning, a little disbelief? As usual with Michael Sheen, it is a blink it and you’ll miss it moment.

After the grunt, Crowley proposes his alternative solution: going off together, using Beelzebub & Gabriel as an example that they could.

Therefore, what Aziraphale has just listened is what he already knew: yes, they are a “we”. Crowley wants to run away (he had proposed it twice during the Armageddidn’t, another pattern they have already established).

The next step is the usual way for Aziraphale: he reinforces his proposal: come with me, to Heaven. Ill’ run it, you can be my second in command. This idea has rubbed me wrong since the first time I watched this scene. Why remark the hierarchy? (not to say that I’m in Crowley’s side in here, but… It was weird and uncomfortable to think of them in a vertical power structure; they have always been equals).

Then, he goes back to making a difference, only it is “we” this time. Crowley is noticing he won’t back down… But Aziraphale usually doesn’t.

“You can’t leave this bookshop” works as a representation, a figure of speech. “This Bookshop” is “This life we have been building”, and they both understand it as such.

“Oh, Crowley… Nothing lasts forever…” For Aziraphale, it means he can leave this for something greater. For Crowley, it means… Actually, the same. But without him. Because he knows the “my way or the highway” side of Aziraphale, and none of them will budge. Aaaaand… that’s Crowley heart breaking. The rest of the scene happens with Crowley in “breakup mode”.

Aziraphale is used to “the discussion dance”. He Insists, “Crowley! Come back, to Heaven, work with me! We can be together, Angels! Doing good!”. He promises all he can: “come back, work with me, we can be together”, which have always been Crowley’s triggers to change his mind. However, the problem lies within the “angels doing good”. That’s the part that Aziraphale would need to let go before getting back to Crowley.

And then, he breaks down: “I need you!!” That has always worked! Aziraphale knows that Crowley loves being needed, he won’t leave his angel when in need, right?

And then, he gets angry. And he questions if Crowley has understood what he is offering, which transforms in an “I don’t think your exactly and my exactly are the same exactly” all over again.

Crowley is already brokenhearted, so he answers truthfully, as far as he knows. He understands how terrible the offer of going back to heaven is for both of them, and is not aware of the veiled threat in Metatron’s offer. He knows that going back to Heaven is a non-negotiable boundary, and Aziraphale is absolutely determined to cross it.

Aziraphale, then, does his passive-aggressive shit again: “I guess there is nothing more to say”. My guy, my love, you need to become better at negotiating with your loved one.

This is where Crowley decides to show, don’t tell, the hurt: no nightingales. And then… The “You idiot. We could have been… us” (no, you couldn’t, it was always too late!!! First the pandemic, which I’ve decided to treat as canon, then Gabriel. They never stood a chance).

In this context, Crowley’s kiss is a desperate way to say good-bye to the person he cared most for the last 6,000 years; also an angry way to regain some semblance of control and affect Aziraphale; and a final way to get some “closure”. Is there desire? Is there love? Maybe. But they are lost in a cocktail of emotions that have been stated during the rest of the discussion.

The angry “I forgive you”, which is also a usual dynamic for Aziraphale when he is angry with Crowley, gets there too late for Crowley to react to. He has already “checked out”. That’s why the “don’t bother” feels almost like an afterthought and comes after a small sigh.

After watching this 16 times, I’m pretty confident that the first thing Aziraphale mouths is a “no…” and then… he sobs a little. Michael Sheen, you’re a beautiful actor. The rest of it is a masterclass in using microexpressions to convey a whirlwind of emotions in under 2 minutes.

Sooooo... Did I hurt my own emotions while writing this? Yes. Did I absolutely need to do so? Also yes. Even when I like doing intertextual readings (and that's why I like bringing some theology to some of my musings), reading what is in "the text" (in the scenes we have watched, in the dialogues we've been shown) gives me an enormous amount of pleasure, and I find a lot of comfort in believing that most of the things that I'll need to understand and enjoy a great piece of media are being given to me inside it. And I believe Good Omens is a great piece of media!!

I have no Shakespeare to offer you this time. Let me know what you think!!

#good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #narrative analysis #character analysis #good omens #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #If I was into Academia this should be counted as a journal referenced publication #Making my Comms Sci degree useful for something

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) l ch. VI

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6,192

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), kook gets pissed, jk mother is asdhjf!, mommy issues, lots of family drama/in-laws, fighting, manipulative parent, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, jk being good hubby to oc, mild sexting, sexual content

Sexual warnings: bl*wj*b, jk c*mes on her t*tt*es, d*rty talk

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: um so this got over 6k which i know isn't amazing but for me its big deal okay?! haha! Anyway Part VI here we go! No flashbacks in this chapter because of ch.V buuut, I have a little gift for you and me. Hope you enjoy!! 💞 also pls vote if youd be so kind 😙

<< ch. V ༓ ch. VII >> | series masterlist

Living in the country for over thirty years, the Jeons were known to be excruciatingly slow and cautious drivers. The town was tiny, roads were narrow, and no one was ever in a rush to get anywhere apart from maybe the farmers market.

Once when Jungkook first got his license he took one hand off the steering wheel and his mother almost had a heart attack, saying it was “reckless of him to put them in danger”. It was from that moment forward that Jungkook always made sure to drive at 10 and 2 or 9 and 3 when his mother was in the car. His father on the other hand didn’t care what he did as long as he didn’t go above 30 mph.

Jungkook was counting his lucky stars when he finally got his own car and the chance to move to the city where he could drive how he damn well pleased–responsibly of course. He had recently finished his Master’s studies and was offered a job as an economist in a major medical corporation. The only catch was that he’d have to relocate to Seoul which ended up being more than fine with him.

His parents moaned and groaned that he wasn’t sticking around but his mind was made up. He moved out of his parent’s tiny town one late June and headed to the city where life moved to a whole new beat.

Ten years later, Jungkook finds himself gripping the steering wheel with two sweaty hands again. Kudos to his parents who have been telling him which way to turn and how fast or slow to go for the past fifteen minutes. He honestly should have picked a brunch spot closer to home to avoid all the madness. Walking would have done them good.

“I’ll never get used to how you drive down here,” Mrs. Jeon grumbles from the back seat. “All these sharp turns and six lanes of traffic going 50-plus miles an hour. It’s a wonder you haven’t all gotten in an accident yet. It’s like I always say, the slower the better. You city folks just don’t get it.”

Jungkook peers in his rearview mirror before signaling to switch lanes. “We can’t afford to go too slow out here Mom. This is a highway and dropping down in speed will cause a safety hazard just as bad, if not worse. Environments are different out here than in the woods.”

As Jungkook merges to the right, Mr. Jeon watches the surrounding cars from the back seat window. “Ah son, son, son!” He hollers and reaches for the ceiling handle.

“What? What happened?” Jungkook asks with panic. He flickers his eyes to the mirror again to spot his father's distress.

Mr. Jeon slowly releases the handle and lets out a lengthy sigh. “It's okay now, we’re good. You did good son. You moved over with so little space I thought you were going to hit the car now behind us."

"I told you it's a mad house out here!" Mrs. Jeon adds, tone thick. Jungkook puts his eyes back on the road in front of him and does his best to ignore the irritation bubbling within him.

"I know what I'm doing," he says. "I've lived here for ten years so can you guys please trust me? And stop with the driving advice and yelling every time I do something."

"We're just trying to help Kookie."

"Well, you're not alright?" The snap in his voice has Jungkook's parents sulking back in their seats in silence. "I want us to get to the restaurant safely and I can't do that when you're both shouting at me! So please just let me do the driving. Thank you."

God, if one more person calls him Kookie in that condescending tone he's going to lose it! Kookie was his childhood nickname but for some reason, it stuck to him like glue until he was friggin' 22 years old. He absolutely hates it and the only person remotely allowed to call him by it is his wife because she makes anything sound like honey to his ears.

The next five minutes are nothing but awkward silence and the sound of tires running on hard cement. Jungkook checks his phone—there's still a good ten minutes left according to the GPS. He moves to turn the radio on to break the eeriness of the drive when an incoming call pops on his car screen.

"Who's that? Who's calling?" Mr. Jeon pipes up.

"It's __." Jungkook hits the answer button. "Hey honey! You're on speaker." He smiles a big, wide grin that says nothing less than he misses you.

"Hi! I'm on my lunch break and thought I'd give you guys a call. I'm stopping at the grocery store tonight, after work. Anything you need?"

“Some booze would be nice!” Mr. Jeon echos and looks at his wife who merely shakes her head. He hasn’t had a drink in twenty years due to his high blood pressure, yet he’s still making the same damn jokes. “Got any Soju? Or maybe Bokbunja?” He chuckles at Mrs. Jeon’s sour face.

Jungkook pays his dad no mind and replies to you. “Uhm….we're low on milk again. I drank the last one yesterday.”

"You went through all those gallon jugs in a week?!" You'd think you'd be used to the amount of dairy your husband packs away but every time, it shocks you as much as the first. You married a milk-lovin’ machine.

Jungkook chuckles. "I'm sorry. I can get them for you if you want. We're on our way to get brunch, then hitting the bookstore for Dad, and after we'll swoop back home. I can pick it up along the way.”

“No need, I’m already going out later so I’ll get it. Anything else?”

“There’s nothing else I can think of. How’s work going?” He’s hoping it’s not hectic given the fact that last week was an absolute sandstorm. He distinctively remembers you coming home with nothing more than tired feet and dark circles under your eyes. He drew you a bath that night.

“Eh, so-so. I have a meeting with my boss later but besides that, it’s the usual. I wish I could have come to brunch with you guys. I feel bad I’m missing it.” Well, you do and you don’t. If Jungkook was planning on talking to his mom about the happenings of last night you wanted to be around for support but it was also a matter that should be between a mother and her son.

“Us too, but we’ll see you ton–shit!” Jungkook slams on the break when he sees he’s about to crash into a black SUV. Everyone’s seatbelts lock at the sudden jerk. “Sorry, sorry!” He checks the mirror to find his parents clinging to their seatbelts.

“Are you guys okay?! Jungkook?!”

He scans all around him to find rows and rows of cars all trying to merge into each other’s lanes. Some are coming from the exit nearby whereas others are trying to squeeze through people in hopes to get ahead.

Dammit, Jungook cruses to himself.

“Yeah, we’re good honey. Everything’s okay but we’ve hit a traffic jam. I’m not sure why since it’s literally 11:40 a.m on a Wednesday but looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a bit.”

“We’d never have this problem at home.” Jungkook hears his mother mumbling under her breath to which his father replies with a nodding of his head. “If it weren’t for all this nonsense we’d be there by now.”

“Absolutely. We’d be there fifteen minutes ago,” his father adds with his hands in the air. “Isn’t there some kind of way you can get around this son, like a shortcut?”

Ah yes, shortcuts on the highway. Why didn’t he think of that? Let him just push the button that says flight mode and–no! Having enough, Jungkook holds his foot on the break and twists his body around to face his parents.

“Alright listen to me right now. This is not Tiny Town where there are a million dirt roads that pop from anywhere and all seem to lead to one other. Everyone drives at least seventy out here and that’s just the way it is because this..." He gestures outside the windshield. "This is what happens! We all get stuck in this congested funnel! But if you two can think of a way to get out of here that doesn’t involve attempting to bulldoze other cars, I’m all ears. Until then we’re going to sit here and talk about the weather because there's nothing else we can do!"

Jungkook looks back and forth between his parents. Mrs. Jeon simply stares outside her window while his dad gives a slow nod in understanding.

"Is it really that bad?"

Jungkook relaxes his body back to face the front when he hears your voice. "Yeah, it's pretty bad __." He lets out a long, exasperated sigh. This is going to be a very long day.

"Nice out today. Mind if I roll down the window?" The traffic hasn't got any better and it was starting to get stuffy in the car. Mr. Jeon desperately needed some fresh air in his face.

"Mhm yeah, go ahead."

"How about some music? Find out what's on the radio will you." He sticks his arm out the window, letting the gentle breeze hit his skin. When the first song blares through the speakers, Jungkook's mother breaks her deafening silence.

"Dear god! What music is this?"

Mr. Jeon immediately perks up. "It's PSY! Turn it up! Turn it up, boy!" Jungkook appeases his father's wishes and turns the knob a few more notches. "Oppa Gangnam Style! Eae eae eae e, sexy lady!"

Hearing his dad singing at the top of his lungs has Jungkook rubbing the side of his head. It's not that he sounded bad but he was singing so loud that everyone around them started pointing, laughing, or rolling up their own windows. "Dad, people are going to get annoyed. Take it down a little."

Deeply immersed in the song, Mr. Jeon continues singing regardless of his son's request. "Op, op, op, op, oppa Gangnam Style!" He starts rocking in his seat which causes a few middle schoolers in the car next to them to pop out their phones.

"Dad!" Jungkook hollers when he notices the kids taking pictures. If doesn't put an end to this now, his father's face is going to be trending all over the internet with god knows what filter.

"Op, op, op, op, on on on on!"

"Dad stop!" He tries again, this time turning the music down. Mrs. Jeon attempts to calm her husband down too, placing a hand on one of his arms but it doesn't take much for it to be ripped out of her grasp. Mr. Jeon ends up nearly whacking his wife in the face due to all his energetic dancing.

"Erotic sexy lady! Oppa Gangnam Sty–hey! Song wasn't done yet!" Jungkook's dad never looked so offended in his life. If he had adjusted his gaze just a few inches to the left he'd see the group of kids, the ones taking photos earlier, giggling to one another. But he was too pissed at his son for crashing his party that it went to the wayside.

"Honey, you were causing a disturbance," Mrs. Jeon says.

"A disturbance? In this traffic jam, I'm the disturbance?" He refuses to believe he's the annoyance when they've been in the middle of a highway, moving at 5 mph for the last hour. PSY has recently become his favorite singer and not enjoying himself would have been an absolute tragedy in his opinion. "It's all of you who should be thanking me for offering some shred of entertainment at times like these."

"The entire population of South Korea is going to be thanking you then." Jungkook creeps forward as soon as the car in front of him moves up a ways. Finally moving again, he hums.

"Hey!" An abrupt voice calls from a slight distance. Two teenage boys pull up in a Jaguar, greasy grins on their faces. "Great singing Grandpa! Really know how to move!" The one in the passenger seat flashes his phone playing a video of Jungkook's dad online.

"Wha–how–What?! You delete that right now!" Mr. Jeon is stunned, tripping over his words at the shock of himself actually being the center of the internet. The video is unexpectedly clear.

"Just ignore them, Dad." Jungkook rolls up all the windows in the car and inches up the best he can to get the teenagers out of direct sight.

"But-but how did they do that so fast? It hasn't even been five minutes yet!"

"It only takes seconds, honey," Mrs. Jeon sighs, realizing her husband has become famous over a re-rendition of a PSY song. Of all things, it had to be that.

"I'm starving."

"Me too."

Jungkook glances at the time–2:40p.m. It's now been three hours of sitting in traffic and they've only moved about ten miles. What on earth is congesting the highway this much?

"Maybe we should take one of these exits." His dad scrolls through the map on his phone. "Says there are a few restaurants down exit 6A."

Jungkook considers the idea. He wants to get off the highway, yes, but so does everyone else. The exit his dad is talking about is off the far right lane which means he's going to need to shove in front of everyone's way.

"You sure it's a good place? Wherever it is you're looking?" The reason why he asks is that his dad is notorious for leading them into the most ruin down places. The last time he was in charge of directions, they ended up in front of an abandoned pizza shop.

Mrs. Jeon takes the phone from her husband's hand and swipes through the photos of a quaint restaurant. "It's not bad," she concludes. "And if it means we can get out of this mess, then I'm with your father on this one."

Two against one. Jungkook turns his signal on and waits for someone to let him over. He earns a few honks when he manages to squeeze his nose over but does his best to give an apologetic wave.

After a few more lane changes he gets in the exit lane. He isn't the only one planning to take exit 6B though, being that there are at least twenty other cars waiting in line.

"Maybe we were better off back where we were. All these people want to get off the same place. If we keep going there's bound to be another exit with far less traffic."

Really? Jungkook feels himself ticking again. After all that shoving to get over here and this is what he gets? No, he's not moving back over. They're going to wait in this stupid lane until it gets them to where they originally agreed.

"We just got here and we're not moving back anywhere. This lane should clear up in less time than it would take to go back on the main highway," Jungkook says. "Also, I probably don't need to clarify this but, we're not going to make it to that bookstore you wanted, Dad."

"It's fine, son. We'll go another day."

Which means tomorrow, Jungkook half grumbles to himself. His parents are here for another day after all and he knows his father well enough to know that "another day" really means the closest day possible.

Despite its size, the restaurant his parents choose is charming with its floor-to-ceiling wood paneling and giant, bay windows. The odd hanging plant is spread throughout the open dining space as well, perfectly setting the mood of serenity.

The restaurant only seems to hold about a dozen people inside, however. So thinking it is best to avoid sitting in an overly crowded space, Jungkook asks for one of the tables outside.

“Oh now this is lovely,” his mother praises, pulling her chair up to the table. Jungkook can’t describe how relieved he is to finally hear something positive after hours of nonstop grumbling.

Mr. Jeon takes a seat next to his wife and across from his son. “I just saw someone get Samgyeopsal and it was huge! Let’s get that to share.”

His enthusiasm is short-lived when the scrunched-up face from his wife says she's not a fan. “That's too much food! We still have to be hungry for dinner so we can eat with __."

"Mom's right," Jungkook agrees reluctantly. "__'s stopping at the grocery store after work so we can prep for dinner tonight. I know traffic slowed us down so we're eating at a weird time but it's better we go with something light."

"Oh well, we can always take some to go! Surely __ will enjoy some beautifully grilled pork!" Jungkook's father is adamant. He wants nothing more than a heavy meal after being stuck in the car all morning.

"__ doesn't like pork Dad. And we all know as soon as we get a whiff of it cooking there's not going to be any leftovers."

"Alright, alright," his dad concedes. "I guess I'll try their bibimbap. What are you having hon?"

Jungkook checks his phone messages while his parents make small talk over the menu. You texted him earlier to see how traffic was holding up and he only able to get back to you minutes ago.

Wifey ❤️ : So I'm guessing you haven't talked to your mom yet?

Jungkook: No, haven't brought it up. She seems fine though with the way she's been acting. It doesn't take much for her to go back to her usual self

Wifey ❤️: Her usual self being...?

Jungkook: You know, really particular.

Wifey ❤️: So she's complaining again. I'm sorry 😞

Jungkook: When I was talking with her on the phone before we left, she was much more careful about what she was saying. I expected it to still be that way now. Must have been a mood.

Wifey ❤️: Sounds like she wasn't sure how you'd be reacting after what happened last night. Maybe she's just reverting to back what she's used to because she's unsure what else to do or say. I'd still try finding a way to talk to her. Does it seem tense?

Jungkook: Yeah, you have a point. But Mom's also had a good way of sweeping things under the rug. It's not tense but it's just uncomfortably normal?

Wifey ❤️: Hmm, strange. And your dad's fine?

Jungkook: Honey...have you been on any social media in the last half hour?

Wifey ❤️: No, why?

Jungkook: Might wanna check. We had a little incident while in traffic. I'm still in shock honestly 😅

Jungkook waits for you to find the video of his dad. He already had the guys blowing up his phone from it so he's surprised none of them at least forwarded it to you.

Wifey ❤️: oh my god! Jungkook what happened?! 😂 I hope you're prepared for your students to be all over this

Jungkook: oh shit, that didn't even cross my mind 😩 also it's not funny honey! Listening to my dad singing eae e sexy lady was traumatizing enough. Now I have to see and hear it every time I pop open my phone or some teen punks show it to me!

Wifey ❤️: Aw Kookie, they're just being kids...try not to overthink. And you know those videos come and go. Your dad will be at the bottom of the chain by next week. Until then keep him away from PSY 😅 But I'm sorry you're having a day, I love you 🥺

Jungkook: I MISS YOU SO MUCH 😭

Wifey ❤️: [sent an image]

Fuck! Jungkook chokes on his spit when he sees a blurry close up of your cleavage. Thankfully his parents are still too occupied by the menu that they didn't notice.

Jungkook: sexy af but this isn't the time to be sexting me baby!

He nearly saves the photo if it weren't for the fact that he already had an album dedicated to very sensual *ahem erotic* photos of you. You had let him take them himself —best motherfuckin' birthday ever.

Wifey ❤️: oh adhjjhj, sorry!! That was an accident. I'm such a klutz. This is what I meant... [sent an image]

"What's going on over there?" Jungkook merely glimpses at the new image before whipping his head up, hearing his mother's, sharp tone.

"It's just __. She's asking about groceries again."

With slightly narrowed eyes, Mrs. Jeon continues. "We're about to order if you're ready."

Dammit. He'll have to reply to you later. Jungkook swiftly pockets the phone. "Okay yeah I'm good to go."

"This is delicious," Mr. Jeon says, patting his mouth with a napkin. "Best bibimbap I've had in a long time."

"That's great Dad." Jungkook stirs his noodles.

"Ah, where's the restroom around here?" He asks the waitress as she walks by. She tells him it's in the restaurant, all the way to the back. Mr. Jeon pushes his chair from the table and excuses himself. "All that broth has me needing to go."

"Yes yes, just go." Why his father needed to explain himself every time he needed to use the restroom is beyond him. Jungkook peers at his mother, taking her time eating her own bowl of noodles–they ended up ordering the same thing. "How is it?" he asks.

"It's good."

"Not too spicy?"

"No, it's mild."

Jungkook gathers more noodles on his chopstick. He freezes halfway when he sees his mother eyeing him intensely. "Everything okay?"

Mrs. Jeon folds her hands in her lap. "It's occurred to me that we still have an elephant in the room. I was hoping we'd be able to talk about it while your father browsed the bookstore. But plans changed."

And here he thought his mother had been playing down last night when really she was biding her time. "You know Dad's gonna be back in like ten minutes right?"

Mrs. Jeon nods. "I know it's not the most convenient of times or places, but I'm afraid if we delay it won't get discussed."

"Okay." Jungkook sets his chopsticks down. "Well...where do you want to start?"

"An apology would be nice." Her voice is mellow but the words are a clear demand rather than an offer. Of course, he wants to apologize to her for all the things he accused her of last night. But he wasn't expecting her to be this forward with it, especially since she was guilty of plenty herself. "I'm waiting Kookie," she coos, taking a sip of water.

Jungkook knits his eyebrows in response, unsure of what he's hearing. His mother looks far too relaxed about this whole thing. He decides to give her the benefit of the doubt. "You're right," he starts. "I'm sorry for what I said last night. I shouldn't have spoken that way and I'm sorry for making you leave. I think you and Dad showing up all a sudden threw me off and I reacted poorly."

Mrs. Jeon cracks a tight smile and reaches for her son's hand. "Thank you, Jungkook. I accept your apology." She gives his hand a squeeze before moving to pick up her chopsticks. "Now that we got that settled let's talk about the reunion. I'm thinking about talking to–"

What....the fuck? His mom did not just glide over this whole issue. She did not just put everything on him. And she did not just bring up that damn reunion again, which he's made very clear he wants nothing a part of. "Is that all you wanted? For me to make my amends with you?"

"What else would there be Kookie?" She scoffs, eyes wide.

"Goddamn it." He struggles to maintain a hushed voice. "Can you please stop calling me that? And what the hell do you mean 'what else would there be'? I'm not trying to put the blame on you but there's a good amount you should be saying to me too."

"What things are you referring to? Don't tell me this is about the reunion again. Look, whatever it is that I said was because I just want to see you more. And no more swearing. You know I don't like that kind of language."

"How can you be like this?" Jungkook can't stop himself. He figured his mom and he would have a better, heart-to-heart than this. It makes his skin crawl that his mother continues to play the victim. "It's genuinely shocking me how....do you even love me?"

Mrs. Jeon pauses at that. "Of course, I love you Jungkook. Why–why would you ask that?" She blinks back the slightest hint of tears forming along the edge of her eyes. Never in a million years did she think her son would doubt something this crucial.

"I feel like–"

"Feel what? What is it?"

"I feel like you care more about what I can do for you than you do me, as your son." Jungkook sniffs. This is a lot harder for him to say than he imagined. "There's been so many times that you've–"

"Don't say this honey! I care about you very much!" She reaches for his hand again but he yanks it away. "What are you trying to tell me?" His mother waits for him to form the rest of the sentence.

Jungkook hesitates to look at her straight on because behind what appears to be concerned eyes is disbelief. She isn't taking any of this seriously. It's written all over her face, tone, and all the way down to the way she's focusing on an answer rather than his inability to comfortably talk to her.

"What have I done so many times?"

"Honestly at this point, what haven't you done?" With an icy glare, Jungkook can't hold himself back anymore. The pot that's been brewing, deep in the darkest parts of him is finally overflowing and it's not going to be pretty to behold. "Do you realize how many times you chose your job, your status, and even your friends over me? And you make Dad go along with literally anything! Is it so horrible for someone to say no to you?!"

The couple next to them shoot uncomfortable looks his way, whispering to each other. Jungkook ignores it and starts counting with his fingers.

"Never once have you ever taken responsibility for showing up uninvited, nagging me about this that, and the other thing, making backhanded comments about my life choice, and most of all pretending our relationship is peachy fine. Well, I'm sorry mom, I'm thirty-four years old and I don't need to live by your rules! Our relationship is barely hanging by a thread and being quite real, it's __ and Dad who are the ones clinging to that thread, making sure it doesn't completely snap."

Mrs. Jeon opens her mouth to interject but Jungkook doesn't allow it to happen. It's not exactly intentional that he's pouring out so much in the middle of people's lunch. Still, he's been shoved over a steep cliff, head first.

"I'm sorry mom, I don't know how many times I need to say it. I don't enjoy any bit of this. It's just been a long stretch of–"

"That's enough! I don't want to hear any more." Mrs. Jeon immediately grabs her purse and twists her neck every which way. "Where's your father? I want to leave."

"Mom I'm trying to talk to you! Why won't you let me talk?"

His mother doesn't reply. She doesn't look at him. It's the silent treatment, Jungkook concludes–it's fucking irritating. "I'm not trying to be hurtful," he says, forcing himself to calm down. "Mom look at me."

She doesn't move.

It only takes seconds for their waitress to near her way up to the table with anxious steps. "I'm sorry to be doing this but unfortunately, we've received a few complaints of a disturbance out here." The young girl clasps her hands. "To ensure all our guests are comfortable we're going to need to ask you to take your conversation elsewhere. I'm really sorry."

Fuck. How embarrassing. Jungkook clears his throat and stands up from his seat. "We understand and are genuinely sorry for the commotion. We'll pay at the front and be on our way. Thank you for waiting our table."

The young girl gives a nervous smile and retreats inside the restaurant. Jungkook makes a note to give her a generous tip.

"Hey, what's going on out here?" Mr. Jeon rushes over, hair blowing over due to the breeze. "I heard there was some inconsiderate party out here airing out their dirty laundry for all to see. I tell you, people these days don't know what privacy means anymore!" He shakes his head and takes a seat.

"Get up Dad we're leaving."

"But I'm not done my–––oh shit." Mr. Jeon clenches his teeth. "You two?"

Mrs. Jeon gets up from her chair, still wordless, and walks towards the parking lot. "I'll get this Dad." Jungkook stops his father from pulling out his wallet. "It is best if you go try to ease Mom. I don't think she'll be talking to me for a while."

Mr. Jeon puts a hand on his son's shoulder. It's his way of offering comfort. "You're mother has made things difficult for you, Jungkook. I'll try getting through to her. In the meantime don't let this eat you up. It's been a long time coming."

Jungkook doesn't get home until quarter past six. The drive home was better than the drive to the restaurant, but hitting the notorious five o'clock traffic slowed them down once more. He also had to drop his parents at their hotel which was no easy task. His mother barely gave him a glance before hopping out of the car. The amount of guilt settling in his gut isn't going away any time soon.

"Hey." Jungkook finds you searching through the kitchen cupboard. "I hope you're okay with spice tonight! I got this really awesome–oh baby what's wrong?" You stop what you're doing when you see your husband come up behind you with sunken eyes. He wraps his larger arms around you, desperately needing your scent.

"I blew it," he croaks. "She's so mad at me."

"I'm sorry Jungkook. I'm sorry I couldn't be there." You turn in his arms to pull him into a full embrace. His nose tickles the side of your neck but you don't laugh. "You wanna tell me?"

Jungkook takes your hand and sits you both on the couch in the living room. "The morning started out rough with three hours of traffic and the two of them in the back seat, telling me where and how I should drive. Then my dad got unexpectedly famous off a PSY song. We finally got to some restaurant about half an hour west of here before 3pm. Everything was going okay until dad went to the bathroom."

"Okay," you say, scooting closer beside him. You rub small circles on his upper back as he leans forward on his spread-apart knees. "What happened?"

"Mom suggested we talk about last night so I said sure." You watch as Jungkook fiddles with his hands. "But she didn't actually care about a conversation or what I had to say. All she wanted, all she expected, was for me to apologize to her so we'd be okay again. It all came out after that and I feel so horrible about it. We ended up getting kicked out of the restaurant too."

"Jungkook..."

"I tried __. I wanted to be patient and to be a good son but she can't even look at me right now." He falls back on the couch, staring at the blank wall in front. "Dad's convinced it was bound to happen."

"You are a good son, Jungkook." You comb a few strands of his soft, ebony hair. He closes his eyes as you do. "You're mom's the one who needs to readjust her view."

"I never thought I'd yell at my mom about all that stuff. And certainly not in public where everyone is trying to have a pleasant lunch. I'm a grown-ass adult and I should have had better control of myself."

You settle into his inner shoulder, laying a hand on his chest. "Even grown adults have limits and your mom's far surpassed those limits. Don't blame yourself for this."

"Dad said the same thing."

"Well, that's two against one."

Jungkook smiles. Two against one, that's where he got that from. Not that you're the first person to use the phrase but he never used it as regularly until you moved in together.

"I missed you so much today. I don't deserve you."

You cock your head up as quick as the words fly from his mouth. "Don't you dare say things like that! You're a good man despite how awful your mother treats you." You lean your face near his, eyes wandering deep into his dark brown ones. "If you're not otherwise too tired, I'm going to show you how much I love you."

Jungkook opens his lids at that–apparently not too tired. You smirk and get off the couch.

"Here?" His classic doe-eyes peer down at your kneeled position. Seeing you settle this perfectly between his muscular thighs triggers an intense blood rush that goes straight to his dick. Jungkook didn't think he was going to get horny tonight but here he was with his half-harden length in your hands in the middle of the living room.

"Mhm." You position yourself just enough for him to have a clear view of your tits. You had taken both your shirt and bra off before starting. You know how your husband likes it. "That okay with you?"

Jungkook groans when you grip his cock harder, gliding it from the base to the tip in repeated motions. "Fuck yeah. It's more than okay." You giggle at how quickly your husband gets in the mood. He thinks you're the bitch in the bedroom? You quicken your movements.

"Oh shit this feels so good." He grips the couch cushion, keeping his focus on you. "Need that gorgeous mouth wrapped around me baby, please. Shit–"

You honor your husband's requests and trace your tongue from the base of his cock all the way up to his tip. Once there, you suck lightly before taking him in whole.

"That's it. Take my cock, fuck." Jungkook goes on to praise you as you bottom out. You gag a little at first being that you haven't done this in what....weeks? Damn. Whatever happened to the days when you'd literally go down on each other every day?

"We need to get you reacquainted with my cock honey," he teases, bucking his hips forward to push himself further into your mouth. "All these weeks without my cock in your mouth has you gagging all over me. Been it's been too long hasn't it?"

"Mm," is the only thing you reply with, the weight of his thick length dragging back and forth on your tongue. By now your pussy is pulsating like crazy and you're tempted to just get up and fuck yourself on him. But tonight was about your husband–you're going to make sure of it. And Jungkook loves nothing more than getting head with your bare tits in full view, obviously.

A few sucks later and Jungkook starts fucking himself into your mouth. They began as soft, needy bucks of his hips but now they're rough, full-force thrusts. His length shoves to the back of your throat and you moan desperately around him. "Did you miss my cock baby? I bet you did. My sexy wife....you're mine and you're gonna make me come, aren't you? Fuck yeah, you are."

Your eyes water as you continue to take him, hallowing your cheeks the best you can. Jungkook has his eyes screwed shut and sweat dripping from his forehead. Your panties are so fucking soaked right now and your nipples are defiantly hard from sheer arsousal.

"God I'm so close baby. You're mouth is---fuck I don't even have the words. It's fucking magic! And your tits are so hot from this angle. Kinda reminds me of what you sent to me earlier. Can I come on them? I'm so close." Jungkook takes your broken moans as a yes and starts ramming into you two more times before pullout and covering your breasts with warm liquid. "Fuck fuck fuck," he grunts, spilling himself on you.

What a mess. You look down at yourself. What a motherfuckin' mess and you love it. Jungkook pulls you into a passionate kiss, tongue rolling with yours in heavenly harmony. "Thank you for this," he says between kisses. "I'll help you wash up, I promise."

"Mm Jungkook," you pant. "I think I need you inside me."

Hey, he got his dick sucked and he creamed your tits–it's mama's turn now, or excuse you–wifey.

A/N: this got nasty whoops. not sorry. Anyway LMK what you think, thanks for reading! 💞 also pls vote if youd be so kind

Masterlist

Taglist:

@frieschan @oldermenluverrr @tatamicc @kookswifesblog @llallaaa @sunnybyeol @namtaeh @exactlygreatcoffee @whipwhoops @yoongisducky @ktnj91 @junecat18 @thvlover7 @yoongiworshiper @ellesalazar @monbebe234-blog @parkinglot-nights @borahaexoxo @hobiswhore @kimseokjinbangtan @jjk97091 @mk-id @blueberry711 @givemethemaknaes16 @iammartian07 @jjkluver7 @itsdingdong @jiminshi20 @sweet-sourhotcoco @lubtou @lovingkoalaface @starsinsky1999 @rockstarrgyu @chaconnelatte @kaithezaftig @skzthinkr @babystarcandykookie @glossyyyymin @siudema @justanotherkpopstanlol @sh1nedreamsm1le7

P.S. I'm sorry but I'm not sure if I'm able to tag all of you!

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

[starillusion13]

Imagine your friends!NCT are secretly mafias, falling in love with you…

[I’m doing with my bias line so if your bias is missing means they are my bias wreckers and as am being ot23(I will always be their supporter so don’t expect I love any of the members less) please read the end note.]

Remember this is my top bias line:

Lee Taeyong

Being the leader of the biggest mafia gang, NCT he is very passionate about his life. Never for once he thought of getting you in his life. An innocent but suicidal girl but also a very daring girl. He is attracted to you because of your multiple personalities and this is the reason he finds you different from other girls. He is good at pretending that he is not getting attracted to you day by day or simply he is deeply in love with you. But what about you? No one knows as you are just friends with him, a very close one. It’s a very simple story. But the problem is that you are only familiar with mafias in story book but you don’t know the dark secrets of your cute and handsome friend, Lee Taeyong.

Kim Doyoung

Your most caring friend who literally takes care of you like an older brother but he has made it clear not to call him your brother. He treats you more than you ever need. He takes you on luxury friendly dates when Taeyong(his bestfriend) is busy or that man would not leave his chance to tag along( you are afterall spending his money even with Doyoung). His gummy smile is everything you need before going to work. Those gummy smiles hide the devilish smirk when he is torturing his victim brutally and his sharp eyes watching the helpless condition of them. But to you, he can heal your every pain as a true friend.

Jung Jaehyun

the most charming guy you have ever met. Anyone would want him as their boyfriend including you but you bet he has girlfriend as you feel he hides things from you and that can be possible if it’s his gf. Once late at night you came across him on the streets and you thought him as any celebrity and that’s how your friendship began. He has the show-off attitude and would always buy you costly dresses, jewelry and other accessories and urge you to wear them on friendly dates and workplace. He has this possessiveness in his every move and words as if he owns you. He is a loyal NCT mafia member who has swear not to get distract by anything but why he is losing his mind for you.

Lee Mark

the sweetest and the most innocent guy. You feel this urge to protect this silly boy from this cruel world. Cruel world? He is a walking devil with a facade of innocence. His silly speech, his innocent heartily laughs and his securing embrace is like alluring you to trust him with your whole. But it’s a trap to keep you close. You don’t know how his awkward behaviors in front of you are just the opposite when he plants bullets in his enemy’s head and throat. His soft big and innocent eyes are the dangerous hell-hole for his victims.

Lee Jeno

well, you doubt him as a gangster sometimes because of his physique and personality. But He can’t be because next moment he is giving off his eye smile melting your heart along with his sweet gestures. A perfect soft boyfriend with some dominating aura. He likes to order you around like those are simple and sweet but somehow he has that controlling attitude. His helpless and worried expression if you are hurt for some reason is just the opposite from the one when he makes sure to burn the victim or bury it 6-feet under and his eyes burning with the rage of revenge, nowhere to be seen those cute eyes looking at you in awe and adoration.

Lee Haechan

a playful menace. You question sometimes why you are being friends with him in first place. His teasings are out of hand and loses your mind but the next moment he is the dearest friend to you. But you have fun with him in sleepovers, sneaking out for late night long drives playing ‘Highway to Heaven’ and he sings along the song’s bridge, his fav part ‘oh she’s so bad, I’ll make it last’ and looks at you in your eyes. Even behind his mischievousness, there is a lover boy. He cuddles you to comfort and a perfect bestfriend and you are thankful for such a nice friend. But you don’t know that the annoying boy with heavenly vocals is a hacker of the ruthless mafia gang, NCT.

Na Jaemin

a total cat person. He even has an insta account for his cats and mentioned himself as their father and you as their mother. A boy with heart on his sleeves and he doesn’t let a moment to fall in vain without making you blush. A family man and not gonna lie you have a little crush on him. His endearments and sweet gestures always make you feel like that you are a couple and sometimes some people even assume it. Even if you deny it, he proudly smiles and agrees with them. But this sweet Angel boy is the devil who can shoot someone and bury them in a stance and then act like he tugged his cats in bed to sleep.

I’m writing such above things just casually because even if it’s late at night yet am not feeling sleepy😭 actually I was preparing a NCT! Mafia draft so felt like sharing some imagines. If you guys need any particular member imagine then you can send me asks(also Yuta Lucas Renjun Ten Yangyang and Kun are also in my bias list tho🥹)

Should I make a NCT! Mafia series with my bias line x reader? Of course after finishing ‘Like We Just Met’?

Perma Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon [open!]

#nct #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct mafia fic #nct fic #nct fluff #nct ff #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct taeyong #nct doyoung #nct jaehyun #nct mark #nct jeno #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct mafia au #mafia au

[fhrlclln]

con la brisa | k’uk’ulkan/namor

SUMMARY -> out of your own curiosity discovering the unique entrance of the underwater cave had you finding more than you expected while vacationing. the god is intrigued to say.

k’uk’ulkan/namor x fem! reader

masterlist (to be added)

GENRE -> nsfw/smut

WARNINGS -> bpwf spoilers, meet-cute scenario, a lil slowburn, namor is a lil’ bit cold at first & smut as usual (p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex; both!receiving & fingering)

WC -> 7,876

a/n: after watching wakanda forever had me bawling like so much. and so, okay, i know this isn’t my usual writing but i fell in love with the song con la brisa and namor cuz aquapapi. and i thought i’d write a long fic just for him. lIKE THE VISUALS OF THE SCENE IN TALOKAN AND THE SONG!?!?!?!? absolutely amazing and captivating and there’s namor. 😫 but anyways… enjoy my namor smut ig. and happy holidays everyone <3

TRANSLATIONS: YUCATEC MAYA -> máak lu'um - surface dweller/land person, ki'ichpanech - pretty girl, le paalo’ - child , je’el - yes, dejaremos ti' le destino decida - we will let fate decide, in na'atik - i understand, ba'ax úuch - what happened?, jach asab u jump'éel siibal - it is more than a gift, ka ma' in k'áat ka u detenga - and i don’t want it stop, in ts'íiboltikech - i want you, ma'alob - good, ko'ox - let us go, in yakunaj - my love, jats'uts - beautiful, t'aan - speak, táan jach mojado, wáaj tuláakal ti' teen? - it is so wet, all for me? mierda - shit, perfecto - perfect, jach jats'uts yáanal tin - so beautiful under me

likes, reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

it’s quiet.

only the sound of the waves and the sound of the cool breeze hitting your ears envelops your senses. your body is floating above the water, sun hitting your face, eyes closed and relaxed as you let yourself float amongst depths of the sea. the water is cool against your skin, the scent of salt hits your nostrils mixing in with the freshness of the air. heaven is all you can describe at such serene calmness the water offers you this day.

as beautiful the secluded beaches are here in yucatan. you knew better to be not trespassing here. and as stupid it was to swim near night falling, the rays of the sun had turned orange among the horizon of the beautiful ocean. you knew it was time to get back to your hotel you currently resided. but here you are, water still glistening your salty skin, shorts concealing your bottom and your top the bikini you wore still damp as ever. the sun was setting, the trees swayed as you headed back to the direction of where you came from. wary of a chill on your spine erupt as if you felt like you were not alone in the secluded beach.

but as always, fate seemed to spin you to get lost in the woods.

shit. you think to yourself, the unfamiliar path dawning over to you as you sighed to yourself, trees all over your view. you knew the area well enough for the past few days and now was the time you would get lost? unbelievable. you bit your lip, trusting your gut to go further, night already taking over the once pristine blue sky. better to walk and let faith guide you to a road than to stay amongst the wild animals and insects inside the forest. you could say you’ve done one of the stupidest tourist shit you vowed not to do.

the cicadas faintly started to get louder as the darkness took over the forest. you grabbed your phone, turning on the flashlight as the leaves scrunched underneath your feet. the bushes seemed to grow larger as you gently passed by them with your arm shoving them away. expecting the familiar highway to come in view.

but you stopped, the path had ended as you were face to face with a cave of some sort. your eyes sparkled in the dark, suddenly intrigued with this new location you found. a hidden gem in these parts. you cautiously stepped closer to it, feeling as if you’ve entered someone’s territory. you lick your lips, shutting the flashlight of your phone as moonlight filled the area perfectly.

“water?” you mumbled to yourself, bending down to see the small cave was filled with water. “of course it is, dumbass.” you rolled your eyes to yourself, letting your hand touch the cool water.

it rippled beneath your fingertips as you glided your hand to feel the temperature, the scent of sea salt again fill your senses, your curiosity getting the best of you. you noticed how the deep the pool of water was, noting it might be an entrance to a underwater cave of some sort, you guessed. but you needed to go back, remembering the hotel waiting for you.

you looked around once more, guessing that this has been around here for a long time. you smiled, proud to say you would dive in here if you got the chance and the gear to do it. you stood up, brushing yourself from the dirt that sticked to your knees. you turned back and headed to the bushes again, to find another path. for a moment, you adjusted the bag you were carrying, your phone in your hand suddenly slipped from your grasp, hitting the ground with a thud. you cursed yourself for your clumsiness, bending down to grab it. the water in the cave suddenly splashing catching your attention warily.

you froze, slowly standing up, clutching your phone tight as you watch a figure came from the dark depths of the cave. the water splashed around as your heart thump loudly. seeing as a manly figure came in your sight despite the darkness. warnings in your mind erupted, remembering what you had heard of recently.

the man from the sea. a ancient god.

you distinctly remembered the words of the locals and the village elders about a man walking along the shores, feet with wings they had said. their ‘god’ walking amongst them. you don’t know much, but you feared this legend and the god as so did the people here. anything was possible nowadays. but you remained silent, studying his figure as he emerged into the moonlight. stepping in to your view, golden jewelry adorned his neck, he wore only green shorts and other accessories from his wrist to his legs. his feet, however, caught your interest seeing wings adorn them. and ears flourished with a jade like square earrings. he brushes his wet hair back, chest rising as he breathes in the air, his dark eyes finally gazed to yours.

oh, fuck.

you clutched your bag tight against your body, a shiver ran down your spine as his gaze pierced through you. you’ve trespassed. your mind shouts, your heart thumping louder.

“i’m sorry for i-intruding.” you speak up, careful for your tone to be calm and respectful. gears in your mind clicking, his face yet did not react whatsoever other than he steps forward, making you step back cautiously. he seems to notice it, sensing your own fear as he minds himself, creating a presence you knew not to anger. as stoic his expression was, his eyes seem to tell otherwise.

dangerous.

“you’re not from here.” he speaks, breaking your daze when you stare at his face. cold yet curious his tone was. knowingly now you think he’s attractive the more you study him. thoughts then circling how he just came from an underwater cave and ankles with wings on them.

“i’m not…” you nodded, gulping. “i got lost and stumbled here. n-no other intention.” you added, sensing him that he expected another answer.

“no?” he questions, stepping forward again, closer to you, making you freeze on the spot. you breathed out shakily, gazing his eyes that hold a predatory look. he towered over you, intimidating you further.

“no…” you softly said, the atmosphere almost changing, not once did you leave his gaze. a fire in the man’s gaze fueling him elsewhere.

the god stared down at this surface dweller, he hummed, trusting your answer, yet still skeptical. you were not like the other surface dwellers that he encountered coming into the entrance of the cave. you looked innocent enough, a foreigner of the area, a tourist you are. he shifts his gaze to your eyes and to your lips that softly spoke those words of reassurance. he notices your hands tremble, the cold of the night he presumed was getting to you or the fear of him. he’ll let you go, he thinks, merciful enough. the disturbance of the water merely caught his attention, he swam to it, ensuring that his nation would not be discovered.

“who are you?” you asked, astonished now for a man who’s ears you noticed are pointed. the fear slowly washing away. namor was intrigued to say, a curious thing you are.

“i have many names.” he spoke quietly, accent sharpening his words, a wonderful one you deemed as you listened to him. “my people call me k’uk’ulkan.” he gauges your face, seeing it full of wonder.

“but my enemies call me namor.” he finishes darkly, a threat. a warning set in stone. many would have run from him by now but you intrigued him further.

“namor.” you tested the name on your lips. the god felt himself shift in his place, seeing as you turn from his gaze, something stirring inside him after you uttered his name so softly.

“and you are?” he now asks, formalities thrown as you met his gaze again.

“y/n.” you uttered your name as the chill of the night shivered you so. he also tests your name in his tongue, accent enveloping each syllable smoothly with a crisp ending.

“roaming around the outskirts of the village is dangerous, máak lu'um. what has brought you here?” he speaks further, a word so unfamiliar to you. not spanish or what, which fuels your desire to learn him now.

“just took a swim by the beach.” you answered with a shrug. “it’s beautiful out the atlantic ocean.” you added as he hums, nodding.

“you’re not from here as well, are you?” you suddenly ask. he doesn’t look like the locals in the area. his outfit is as different from modern clothing, which in his case is very minimal. he cocks his head to the side as you looked back to the underwater cave. he is taken aback at your forwardness but contemplates whether he should tell you but he only offers a simple answer to your curious mind.

“yes.”

“interesting.” you quipped, examining his peculiar jewelry then to his chest, which catches you off guard how well built he is. tan pecks glistening with water, a fluttery feeling in your stomach making you feel a little flustered for checking him out shamelessly. 

“you live there, i presume?” you ask, pointing to the cave. he seems to still, eyebrows tensing as you notice how defensive he is. “not that you need to answer…” you offered weakly, a little scared now.

“mhm.” he grunts, stepping pass you, not answering the question, leaving off a cold aura. he needed you away from here as soon as possible, remembering his intentions from the first place when you disturbed the waters of the entrance.

“come, it is getting late. let me escort you out, ki'ichpanech.“ pretty girl. he offers his arm out, muscle bulging out. you seem to be too trusting as you complied with the strange man with wings on his feet. not knowing how dangerous he can be, a man that has lived for more than a century, a god to his people and a king of a nation sealed from the whole world beneath the depths of the sea.

he is the feathered-serpent god.

“thank you.” you took his arm, walking beside him, arm resting with his making your heart thump. he was warm for a man who just swam in a deep underwater cavern. he smelled like the ocean itself, which was not that unpleasant, you stare at him for a time as you two walked along the woods. leaves scrunching both of your feet.

namor, on his behalf, didn’t expect he’d be talking with a surface dweller for this long nor offering to escort you out the forest. he despised all things that came from the surface world, a land that he swore to himself to hate to the bones. yet now, you who peaked his interest made his usual thinking sputter.

innocent, curious, soft, kind…all things he doesn’t expect. the feel of your skin to his fueled his desire further as he tried to suppress it. noting the way his cock twitch when your fingers brushed against his hot skin.

“are you not cold? it’s so cold out here.” you shivered, unintentionally pressing against him for warmth.

“it is…tolerable, ki'ichpanech.” he amusingly says, watching as your other arm hugged your waist for warmth. your bikini covered breasts pushing up by your arm making him swallow a lump as he looks ahead. intriguing.

“what does that mean?” you ask, glaring at him with a pout.

“ki'ichpanech?” the ancient language rolls on his tongue flawlessly.

“yes.” you looked back to him seeing as the familiar sounds of faint chatter filled your ears. the village must be close.

“a compliment, le paalo’.” he simply explains. “one for you to find out for yourself.” he smirks, making you sigh beside him.

only silence fills the void between you two, an unspoken comfort that had the man beside you wonders how calm you are. being escorted by a man who you just met. he wonders how your pretty little mind works

“you said you have many names.” you started. “what do you prefer to be called?”

“it is up to you what you wish to call me.”

“k’uk’ulkan then?” you uttered, wishing you didn’t butcher the pronunciation. “you said your people call you by that.”

“je’el.” he agrees, which you take it as a yes. a silence transpired again, but it doesn’t take long before your own curiosity gets the best of you. asking him questions now out of the blue, all subjects leading how he swam inside of a underwater cave without any gear and the most asked about his ankles with wings.

namor seemed to tolerate your mind, offering vague answers and none about questions where he resided or came from. he offers you to teach the mayan words he answers along the way, resulting you to ask him if he always knew how to speak english fluently. in return, he asks you as well. you gladly tell him about vacationing alone in mexico, saying that you needed some time away from the work you had back home. and that you just wanted a moment of peace to yourself here by the beaches. exploring, learning about the locals and their culture respectfully.

but in all fashion, it had to end.

which broke your heart slightly when the sound of the locals grew louder. lights from their village enveloping your view as you two arrive in a secluded area wherein the familiar dirt road is.

“you are a strange woman with curious questions.” he begins as you step out of the bushes, facing him with a slight frown.

“says the man who has wings on his feet.” you quip back playfully. he smirks at that, eyes alert as he looks back to see the locals. your heart thumps, wishing for him to come with you. but in his eyes you knew it wasn’t possible even if he didn’t necessarily say it out loud. you just knew.

“speak of this to no one, ki’ichpanech.” he utters, you nodded at this. the situation weird enough for you to obey.

“will i see you again?” you ask gently, hope in your tone. namor feels something stir inside him as he licks his lips, stepping forward as he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing it softly. soft delicate skin. he thinks, a fire set alight to the both of you as his piercing gaze never faltered as your chest rose at the sudden electric feeling.

the hand kiss was a gesture of his growing affection towards you which he fears may not stop. you should be cowering away from him, a man who’s hands are stained with blood for hundreds of years. he shouldn’t even be talking with a surface dweller at all and you shouldn’t see him again, but…

“dejaremos ti' le destino decida.” he only offers those unfamiliar words to you with sincerity. you drew your hand back, not asking anything further as he steps back into the forest, eyes still looking into yours. a series of laughter interrupts the two of you as you look away from for a moment seeing the villagers laughing amongst themselves. you look back to the bushes, only to find that he’s gone.

huh.

you only stood quiet, the scent of sea salt lingering, his warmth you realized you missed. the night grew colder as you think to yourself with a cheeky thought in mind.

you’ll meet him again.

•••

and you did.

countless of times now after a couple of days had passed. the next morning of that faithful night lead you to go back to the same spot you met him, toying with the water, disturbing it when he was already behind you at that time. in which namor wouldn’t say he has been keeping an eye on you whenever you visited the beach again. you were thrilled, greeting him with your smile. he seemed a bit reluctant meeting you again, telling you that you should not be talking with him. you countered back, asking why then he appears before you when he could’ve ignored her. he smiles at that, offering you a chuckle for the first time. his smile catching you off-guard.

“you intrigue me so, ki'ichpanech.” he would say as you two walk along the shores, talking, asking more about him. he tells stories you never had heard of, legends and so.

“you like it.” you’d tease with a grin. he doesn’t affirm but he does agree in the inside.

your growing friendship with the god only grew larger when the days passed and each day he reminded you to never speak about this strange relation you had with him. you only had weeks left before going back home. a month vacation in yucatán was slowly nearing it’s end and you feared you may not get to see your mysterious friend ever again. you had to cherish the weeks left in counting.

and the subtle attraction you were feeling was growing larger.

he showed you the vast hidden wonders the beach hid as he took you for a swim. the corals, the tide pools, even in the deepest parts of the sea. it was so fascinating to you to see him swim so freely, like it was just a normal thing for him. you had already known that he is not human from the first time you met him. further, he only describes himself as a mutant, the story of his mother and how the first of his people came to be. the talokanil.

“my mother mourned to return to the land wherein she once lived.” he speaks, the waves crashing, you two sitting beside each other on the soft white sands of the shore. watching the sunset over the horizon, a beautiful sight to always see. intimate it felt.

“she was human you had said?”

“je’el. she made me a promise to bury her in the soil of her homeland.” you watch carefully how his eyes catch a glimpse of longing. “but nothing could prepare me for what i found.”

a chill ran down your spine seeing his expression drop into the most chilling hatred you could ever seen from a man. the slavery, those spanish men, the corruption of colonialism that had fallen amongst the surface world. wars broke out, diseases everywhere, more and more tragedies you guessed he would have witnessed for living for 500 years. you were somewhat touch to know how he’s opened up to this, to you.

“there’s nothing that would change how us humans would still be.” you began, sympathizing with him and knowing his hatred for the surface world. “humans are greedy. power is their desire, their lust. the world up here is fucked up.” you chuckled airily, staring off to the ocean.

“you seem to harbor the same resentment to your own world, ki'ichpanech.” he says as you shrugged at it.

“the world is too corrupted nowadays.” you rolled your eyes. “work is work, you work then you die. money is in my head always back home. so yeah, i do hate it up here.”

“you desire to be elsewhere? is it why you are here with me?” he grins as you scoffed at him even though it was true as the blush evident on your face was enough evidence. he has been shamelessly kinda flirting with you over the past days—

…you like him, a lot. it was no surprise you had catch feelings for the man. you learned he is kind and somewhat warm underneath the defensive and cold exterior he had put up when you two first met. he longed for his nation to be free from the terrors of waiting for anyone who’d try to discover them.

“you were a nice surprise to me.” you smiled gently. “but yes, it’s a nice escape here out from the city. even though i hate it here, it quite beautiful to live in.”

“in na'atik.” he hums, intrigued to say how one surface dweller could speak so ill about their own home. his resentment towards the surface world was still growing in him. humans are greedy like you had said, but you, out of all the surface dwellers that had tried to come near him or his nation, you merely just stood before him that night. astonished at him, wonders in your colored irises that held a compassionate understanding for him. he feels his chest swell and throat constrict. that same mushy and fluttery feeling that arose to heat his cheeks and the tip of his ears. overwhelming yet so addicting to feel.

what were you doing with him?

namor only watches you as you stare off to the ocean. he wants to picture this moment in his mind, a mural he now wants to paint for you. a story for you, your curious questions about him and your smile that was like the most beautiful pearls of talokan. he doesn’t want to admit it, nor shall he want to think about it now. dangerous it can be, he only hopes that this would last quicker for the sake of both of your hearts. and for his purposely knowing all would might end in tragedy if he is to act on this.

but he is wrong.

•••

another set of days had passed and tomorrow, that you dreaded, you’ll be going back home. it seemed like time had passed by faster than you expected. you stand alone again by the beach, this time a mesh white scarf wrapped around your arms as you take in the sea breeze again, savoring the moment. namor had wanted to see you again as usual, you knew he was either walking along the shore or might emerge from the sea, waiting for you.

but now he was walking towards you, expecting your bright greeting yet he only found you staring at the horizon again.

“ki'ichpanech?” he starts, softly calling for you. the waves crashes again as your sundress swayed with wind. you met his gaze, snapping out of your thoughts as you composed yourself before the god.

“k’uk’ulkan.” you face him, a little surprised but you smiled at him still. namor watches your serene smile do not go up your eyes. he knows already, you could tell. he always could tell how you were feeling.

“ba'ax úuch?” he asks, enough for you to understand as he stands in-front of you, softening his gaze as you glanced back to the sea, sighing deeply.

“i’m leaving tomorrow.” you finally said, seeing as his expression still as those words he dreaded as well came from your mouth. it’s too soon, he had plans to—

“tomorrow?”

“in the morning.” you confirmed, your heart breaking seeing his stoic expression falter. “to be honest, i don’t want to go.”

“then don’t.” he says, every patience in his body wearing just for him to spew out anything for you to not leave. all his walls he build up for the first time for you already was gone, he accepted it that he wanted you by his side even if you don’t know fully of his true feelings. he had to at least say something before this could all end.

“i can’t.” you shakily said, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you. you didn’t want to leave this place, you didn’t want to leave him yet. “besides, whether i like it or not, i’ll be forced back home.”

you gripped the chiffon scarf, knuckles baring white as namor didn’t know what else to say. every signal in his mind told him many ways he could make you stay but he knows either way you’d be gone. and that this whole relationship you have with him is going to end even if it just had started.

“come with me.” he finally lets it out as he grabs your hand to his. “i wanted to show you something.”

“you have a gift for me?” you teased as his fingers interlocked with yours. he merely chuckles making your heart thump, alongside the feel of his calloused warm hand fits perfectly to yours. you know there’s this silent crave, a want between you two. you never acted this strange tension with him. you always thought he only tolerates you at how adamant you are seeing him, but now… you’re not sure.

“jach asab u jump'éel siibal.” he says, guiding you back to the forest, the familiar path to the underwater cave. “i want you to see a glimpse of my home.”

“k’uk’ulkan.” you scolded, brows knitting as you followed him, letting him guide you. “you had said that your nation is something to be kept away from the surface world. i am apart of that.”

“it is not necessarily talokan yet, ki'ichpanech.” he counters as you two step to see the familiar structure. he ushers you to stand by him in the pool of water but you stop,.

“i don’t want to risk this.” you argued, seeing as he contemplated at that. he was holding back something he’s been harboring, you sighed as you step back, hand letting go of his as he stands in the water. a feeling of deja vu erupted inside you. he looked absolutely the same the night you met him. just that his defensive posture were now soft and relaxed as he gently smiles at you.

“one last night, ki’ichpanech.” namor held his hand out again. “and we will forget all of this in the morning and continue on with our separate lives.”

“but that’s not all, is it?”

namor tenses, he doesn’t really know if a tinge of fear had finally come to him. you can see pass through him, every knit of his brow or clench on his jaw. and he can see you hesitate— you want this, he can tell. every grip of your mesh scarf, the furrow of your brows, the sadness and eagerness in your eyes. you awaited for an answer as he nods.

“come with me.” he steps closer, water splashing, moonlight dawning over you two. “you had said you hated to go back to your home then stay. stay with me.”

he gently brought your hand to his chest as he stared into your eyes. like a trance he is how serene you are underneath the moonlight. your face softening with realization that he’s asking you to live with him. to stay by him forever. you could feel the thump of his heart underneath his skin, he intimately pressed his forehead against yours, never leaving your sight. you didn’t know what to say but just let him continue.

“this does not happen so often. and i fear it will never stop. ka ma' in k'áat ka u detenga.” he whispers, lips brushing against yours, he is holding himself back not to rapture you here and now. sparks flew when you felt it, his other hand situated on your hip. a raw sensation you had now felt for him.

“what about my own life here?”

“i am not so cruel to not give you a choice, ki’ichpanech. but yes, i cannot risk you going back home for my nation if you were to choose to come with me.” you nodded at his words, understanding him. and now you gambled with the possibilities as namor waited patiently for your answer. your mind gambled with the possibilities, you’d leave everything behind.

“and if i chose to leave now?”

“then we will part ways and forget all of this.” he offers a small smile, concealing the pang in his chest.

“why me?” you quietly asked, the words he offered sinking in your mind.

“is it not obvious?” his nose brushed against the tip of yours, heat in his tone. “in ts'íiboltikech.”

a shuddery breath exhales through your lips. his warmth and his closeness should have been the answers but you could not imagine for a god— someone who’s deemed as a god to be wanting you. namor’s patience was wearing thin, if you chose to leave, he’ll gladly accept that, but he somehow hopes for the other one. your eyes shined, his heart thumped as your lips opened—

“in ts'íiboltikech.” you repeated his words as his irises darken, a grin forming as he gladly pulled you closer to him, the cool water splashing around the two of you. the cicadas quieting down, two hearts beating as one.

“ma'alob.” he whispers darkly, sending a shiver down your spine. those words of confirmation had him surging to capture your lips to his. he waited long enough, every night, every morning he thought of you. you were a plague in his mind, corrupting him to think of the most sinful things and the ones he yearned in his own thoughts.

and your lips were sweet, sweeter than the fruits he ever tasted in his life, and he wonders in the back of his mind if your cunt would taste sweeter. making his cock twitch at the thought.

you let out a tiny gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck, the chiffon scarf dropping to the ground. the built up tension between the two of you finally at it’s peak, sizzling down as he moved his lips slowly on yours. slow and passionate, wanting to savor it. your cheeks bloomed with heat when you felt the outline of his prick press against your stomach, hard and hot. catching you by surprised at how particularly needy he felt. but you were as well, absently rubbing your thighs against each other.

he pulls away, breathless making let out a tiny whine. “ko'ox.” he smirks, guiding you deeper in the water, your sundress getting wet but you didn’t care about that. only focused on the man who gently puts something on your face. you look at him questionably, he was holding up a mask of something.

“the dive is deep.” he explains, as he locks the mask in, ushering you gently with adoration in his eyes as you inhaled deeply, following his command.

“breathe, in yakunaj.”

•••

“amazing.” you uttered, staring up to the ceiling of the cave. glowworms were hanging by the stalactites. it emitted this soft blue hue while the sound of the waters of the cave joined in the beautiful scenery. your heart bloomed, you could almost forget about your own home by now. but a tinge of hesitance caused you to overthink this. was it right to leave everything behind? you questioned yourself, standing by the edge, close to the water.

how quick you are to throw everything away.

you bit your bottom lip, nervous you are, wondering if anyone back at the place you called home would question where you are in the following days— months even. you sighed to yourself, pushing it all away in the very back of your mind. you’d worry about that in a more appropriate time. but now here you are, feeling flushed remembering his lips, all thoughts away but just him.

“jats'uts.” his voice echoed, you jumped a bit in surprise as you turned to face him. the beads on your dress rattled, your cheeks glowed as namor went beside you. his eyes draped along your body, the traditional dress he provided for you after your sundress had been absolutely damped was an exquisite sight before him.

“beautiful.” he translated, dark eyes meeting yours. he steps closer, seeing your small shy smile. “the dress suits you so.” he grins.

“thank you for this.” you gestured to the beautiful dress, letting yourself be drawn in his beady orbs as you neared him, letting his hand slip to yours again.

“has this place always been your sanctuary?” you quietly asked as you two walked towards the hut he showed you a while ago that was filled with his murals. you were amazed to see how he had depicted his and his people lives on the wall by the stroke of his brush. the story of how the first talokanil came to be and so fort.

“yes. a place where i can be in solitude.” he nods and leads you inside, never leaving your side.

“and from here, talokan is just down below?” you looked around the room, stopping to admire the big mural on the wall.

“deep below, ki'ichpanech.” he responds, standing beside you, holding something in his hand. your eyes caught the glimpse of a beautiful ornament.

“this is beautiful.” you blurt out, looking to him for approval to touch it as he merely smiled.

“it was my mother’s.” he explains as you touched the beads gently, admiring how pretty it is.

“you said it was made for her before she turned talokanil?” namor nodded, liking the way you remembered his stories.

“as my first gift, i want you to have this.” he grasps your wrists making your heart burst. “a token for my affection.”

“you’ve given me enough. i feel like i should give you something in return.” you pouted as he ties the bracelet on your wrist, ignoring your furrowed look as he kisses you softly before you could protest more. you hummed between his lips, shutting up quickly as you eagerly reciprocated.

“it is not enough.” he says, squeezing the side of your waist. “you’ve already given something in return, in yakunaj. your presence here in my home is enough.” 

“but—“

his lips descended down to kiss your jaw, peppering down to your neck. inhaling your scent as he nips at your neck. pressing you harder against him, bulge brushing again on your stomach as you craned your neck to feel him sigh blissfully before he sucked and nipped, intent to make you feel mushy in his arms.

“k’uk’ulkan.” you whined as he chuckles.

“your body reacts so eagerly.” he whispers. “have you been waiting for me to touch you like this, ki’ichpanech?” you couldn’t respond but nod lightly, the warmth of his overwhelming. your lips are sealed from embarrassment how right he is. the scruff of his beard tickles you so as he bites a bit harder making you grip his shawl. the only item of clothing you noticed he wore after countless times you had seen him in those green shorts.

“t'aan.” he commands, hands descending down to grasp your ass harshly. you squealed as he hoists you up, legs automatically wrapping around his waist. hands on his broad shoulders as he guides both of you to the bed in his hut. your back hitting the bed, him towering over you. you could see the feral look in his eyes as you can’t help but obey him.

“je’el.” you whimpered as he slants his mouth to yours again, eating you up. he can’t help but smile at how his language rolls off your lips, his mayan lessons paying off to you. your soft hands cupped his cheek, fueling the desire. his hand descends down to caress your thigh, rubbing gently before your dress pools to your stomach, lower half exposed to the cold air. namor could feel the heat he yearned as his fingertips gently brushed against your exposed cunt. you bare underneath the dress he provided, his aching cock wishing to come out.

“táan jach mojado, wáaj tuláakal ti' teen?” namor pressed his fingertip gently on your aching nub. you gasped, back arching, eyes slightly widening how the two of you are now doing this—

“please.” you begged as he only applied pressure, no rubbing or whatsoever, he seemed so smug as he had you this desperate. he shifts from his place, shrugging off his royal shawl, dropping it to the floor as he removes anything that might get into his way as he opens your legs, looking up for your consent as your eyes meet his.

“please.” you affirm again as he gingerly kisses the top of your knee.

he doesn’t know what fucking ambrosia fills his scent but the sight of your bare glistening cunt makes his whole body react accordingly. he descends down, kissing your knee before resting comfortably to kiss your inner thigh, the scent of your arousal tingling him.

“perfect.” he groans, can’t help but kiss your aching clit. licking his lips as your hands laced through his dark locks as he laps away like a starved man. you moan out, his tongue working wonders. you could not believe how eager he is to eat your cunt up like it’s his last meal. every flick, lick, kiss and suck, all over again and again making your thighs clamp hard around his head.

you fear you might suffocate him with your own cunt but you remembered the man literally breathes in water. namor could do this all day, he thinks, growling at how fucking tart your nectar is— how fucking dripping it is for him— only him.

namor melts between your thighs, in dazed and drunk. the sound of your muffled moans as the plush heat of your thighs at either sides of his face had him groaning. he sucks harsher, feeling your hips stutter as he puts his arm on top of your stomach to hold you in place. never stopping his feast, the more he licked and lapped, the more you begged with his name. his other hand could not help but slide down to his, gripping his clothed bulge, a shiver ran down his spine at the pressure that he could not take anymore.

“k’uk’ulkan…” you repeated, feeling your stomach coil in the pressure of his sinful mouth and tongue. he hums, pulling back, sitting up as his lips glistened with your arousal, fueling your desire as you whined. he palms himself, still staring down at you as you stared at the prize just under his hand. you carefully sat up, all thoughts seemingly trashed in your fucked-out mind. namor’s chest rose as he breathes in how angelic you are crawling towards him, your face dazed out and mouth glistening with your own saliva, hungry.

“what do you want, my love?” he asks as he grins making you momentarily look up to meet his eyes. you didn’t say anything as you pressed your lips to his bare stomach, making him shudder as his abs flexed the moment your soft lips touched his heated skin, the grip on his clothed cock tightened as you trailed down to meet his happy trail.

vixen. he surpasses the urge to call you that out loud, not when your hand is now shoving his hand away from his cock. he lets you do whatever you want with him, anticipation in his blood as your fingers curled in the hem of his shorts. ready for you to pull it down but you stopped for a moment as you stared up to him again, a plead in your gaze.

“can i?” you ask quietly.

something inside him breaks hearing your soft voice ask for his permission. he lets out a breath, hand coming up to caress your cheek as you nuzzled against his palm, waiting for his answer.

“je’el.” he nods, his words coming out in a slight tremble. he could feel himself succumb to the thought of you doing anything with him— everything in fact. you grin suddenly, breaking the eye contact as you pulled his shorts down completely, him helping you get it off as you tossed it to the ground.

namor groaned as his cock bounced up slightly, the cool air making him bite his lower lip as you gawked at it. you were speechless, taken aback, not expecting that it would be— that girthy in size. you gulped, remembering the countless times you would glance at his bulge whenever you two were either swimming in the sea or walking along the shore, it was something you couldn’t help but feel dirty for imagining what he truly looks like down their.

but now you’ve seen everything.

“you can take it, no?” he suddenly quips making you grumble in determination as you lulled yourself back from staring at his shaft. you wrapped your hand around his base making the said man shut up as he sighs out.

“i can.” you mumbled, totally not intimidated by his fucking length and girth overall. you pumped him slowly, right amount of pressure seeing the tip leak out a bit. wondering how you are making a said ‘god’ now weak on his knees, hearing little huffs come from his mouth but still looking so composed. you admired how reserved he looks as you dart your tongue out to lick the fat head.

“mierda—“ he grumbles, a hand gripping the back of your head as the other fumbled with your breast and whatever skin he can reach as he stays still watching you finally engulf him slowly. your mouth stretched accommodating his size as you hummed, liking the way he taste and maybe a tiny bit saltier— you were not complaining though.

“look at you.” he speaks with adoration, admiring the way you started to suck him off, letting him in deeper inside of your hot cavern inch by inch you can take. the way you are on your knees for him, glancing at him from time to time as you meet his hungry eyes. he resists the urge to fuck your mouth, savoring how determined you are to make him feel the same pleasure as he did on you. you were serious to making him feel good, bobbing your head up and down as your other hand gripped his base, pumping him where your mouth can’t reach. your eyes watered as the tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag a bit as you pulled him out, panting.

the string of saliva appeared as you licked your lips, kissing the tip again as you gently put him in your mouth again. namor hissed feeling the coil in his stomach almost snap. you continued on with your pace, liking the way you could hear his labored breaths and little groans, making you smile a bit as the salty taste of him had you addicted.

this is torture. namor thinks as he lets you suck him off for a bit before abruptly pulling himself out of your mouth, making you whine. he chuckles seeing your expression before he captured your lips again, tasting himself as he pushed you to lay back on the bed. you reciprocated with eagerness as you opened your legs for him to slant himself there, cock grazing your cunt making you let out a low moan in his mouth. namor swallows those pretty sounds of yours before pulling away as he pressed his forehead against yours. a knowing look in his eyes as you waited for him to speak first.

“can i?” he finally asks, grinding himself on your cunt. you whimpered, looking down to see how desperate he is before looking back to his eyes.

“please.” you muttered, cupping his cheeks as shuffles in his place. his hand reaching down to grasp himself, positioning his head to rub against your entrance as you cursed at the wet feeling.

“k’uk’ulkan…” you mewled, anticipating he’d ram himself inside of you this instant but he’s patient as ever as he rubs the fat bulb of his head on your clit, gathering enough slick before finally pushing in slowly. making your back arch at the intrusion as your hands fly down to grasp his broad shoulders.

“is it too much?” he suddenly asks, concerned, watching you carefully. you smiled at his concerns as you kissed the tip of his nose.

“it’s perfect.” you whispered, clenching around him to signal him to get on with it. namor growls as he does what you want, bottoming out in you as deep as he can go. he stills for the moment, you two immersed at the feeling of each other. a sort of fuzzy feeling of something special how connected you two are. gentle caresses and kisses of encouragement exchanged between the two of you as he finally gives an experimental thrust.

“perfecto.” he sighs, kissing you again as you grinned. namor grinds into you slowly at first, feeling the way your walls clench around him as he hits a spot. he leaves kisses on your face, marks on your neck, whispers of undying loving words how you make him feel so good. you merely moan out his name as he starts to pick up a good pace that has you desperate on him.

“jach jats'uts yáanal tin.” he pants, hand caressing you everywhere as he stares at your blissed out face. each hard snap of his hips making your body bounce at the intensity. the lewd wet slapping adding in as heat and sweat enveloped you two. you whimpered at how his cock was hitting that spot making your hips wiggle and back arch. it felt so sticky yet so good at how he’s so passionate about this.

absolutely perfect. your mind screams as you wrap your arms around his torso, grasping his back as he fucks you with vigor. your whines like a sirens song to his ears, he rests his lips on your forehead as he pounds into you. feeling himself on the verge as you clenched around him tightly as ever, a signal to him that you were also cumming. namor kisses every inch of your face before swallowing up your moans you were about to cum. your heart pounded in synch with his as he desperately fucked into you. you gasped loudly, gripping his skin, nails digging, body convulsing with pleasure as his thrusts became sloppier, pounding in through your orgasm.

“ki’ichpanech…” namor practically breaths out your name next, eyes shutting for a moment as he feels him release. one, two, three powerful thrusts sends him home as he almost rips the beddings apart above your head. blood rushes to your ears as the intensity stops. he slumps a bit, laying his weight on your body but not too much, fearing you’d be crushed. both your breaths only to be heard as it fills the silence of the room.

everything slows down the moment when his eyes flutter open to meet yours. the exact same eyes he had first met in the moonlight. your heart soars to see him soften as you kissed him gently, soft and pillowy it felt, something slow after that. your hand instinctively brushes the stray hair from his forehead, sweat beading there. he plants more kisses again on your face as you giggled, only gasping as he removes himself abruptly. there are so many things you wanted to say to him in those moment but all are left unsaid when he laces your hands together. a glint in his eyes, all you adore.

“stay with me, ki’ichpanech.” he says, as if you would leave him. you can’t help but nod quickly as ever like you did when he asked you to go with him here. you knew what you were in for and you were sure for it, knowing your heart won’t stop beating so loudly when he smiles now as you mutter a verbal confirmation out, concealing it. the glimpse of his mother’s bracelet on your wrist a wonderful glimpse of a future.

“i will.”

I FINISHED IT FINALLY AND HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE !! THANK U FOR THE PATIENCE. im back to writing finally. <3

#namor x reader #namor #k’uk’ulkan #k’uk’ulkan x reader #namor x female reader #namor smut #tenoch huerta #bpwf spoilers #namor imagine #black panther: wakanda forever #fnhrlcllnwrites

[jessybarnes]

Fixer Upper

Pairing - Mechanic!Jensen x Single Mom!Reader

Rating - 18+ Only! Minors DNI

Tags - Angst, Anxiety, Fluff, SMUT, broke down car, walking alone on a deserted road, being a single mom, mentions of an ex, mentions of abuse, NSFW gifs, unprotected sex, reader on top, Jensen on top, and I think that’s it, but let me know if I need to add more to the tags. 

Word Count -  2.4k

Beta - @winecatsandpizza

Fic Aesthetic - Yours truly

A/N - This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this blog. I hope you enjoy! :)

“Dammit!”

You slammed the driver’s door to your car and kicked it for good measure. A new car was definitely a need, but who could afford one in this economy? Much less a tow truck and a mechanic. To top it all off, your AAA membership you had expired a month ago. Part of you wanted to just set the hunk of metal on fire, but that would make you feel better for all of five minutes before you’d really be shit out of luck. 

The afternoon sun reflected off the hood as you reached for the release latch. As soon as you lifted it up, hot grey smoke poured out making you cough. 

“Well, that’s just fuckin’ perfect. Icing on the damn cake.”

You put your hands on your hips and turned to look at the long stretch of highway that went in both directions. Not only was your car broken down on the side of the road, but the nearest town was at least twenty minutes in both directions. To make things even more annoying, your phone had died about ten minutes before your car did so it looked like the only thing left to do was to start walking. 

Grabbing your keys and purse, you locked the car and started walking along the shoulder of the road. At least it was nice out, not a cloud in the sky, and fairly warm. The faint feeling of a summer breeze blew strands of hair out behind you as your car became smaller and smaller in the distance. A fence came into view after about fifteen minutes of walking, and if you were being honest with yourself, it was pretty inviting. 

You brushed one of the wooden planks off and plopped down on it with a sigh. Maybe your Mother was right, maybe you should have moved back in with her until you could get back on your feet. But no, you just had to be stubborn and prove to her that you could make it on your own as a single mother. Swallowing your pride wasn’t something that came easily for you. So, you’d do what you always do and find a way to fix whatever was broken. 

Just as you were about to get up and start walking again, a red Chevy truck came into view. You had never thought about hitchhiking, but the thought of it driving past seemed worse than the former. Your hands waved to get the driver’s attention and then gave him room to pull off on the shoulder of the road. What you weren’t expecting was the most gorgeous man you have ever seen get out and approach you. 

“Everything okay, ma’am?”

Your mind was still reeling from the fact that this man was talking to you when you realized he’d asked you a question. 

“Umm yeah, I uhh…my car broke down and my phone died so umm…I was just going to walk until I found civilization.”

A look of concern flashed across his face as he looked around. 

“How long have you been out here walking? I don’t see a car anywhere.”

You shrugged like it was no big deal and gestured in the direction of your unreliable hunk of metal. 

“Cars a ways that way. I’ve been walking for maybe twenty minutes? I don’t know. I kinda lost track of time.” 

The man shook his head and looked firmly down at you. 

“Yeah, I’m not letting a pretty lady walk alone on this stretch of road. At least let me take you and your car back to my shop. You look like you could use a break.”

Did you die and go to Heaven? There is no way that you got this lucky. The one car you see on this deserted road turns out to be a mechanic and he’s this good-looking? Yeah, no, things like this didn’t happen to you. 

“Thank you, sir. I don’t have much money, but I can give you what I have for gas.”

He shook his head again and opened the passenger side door. 

“Please, call me Jensen. I don’t want your money, sweetheart. It sounds like you need it more than I do.” 

“Thanks, and you can call me Y/N.”

You smiled at him and climbed into the cab of his truck. The ride to your car and back to his shop took less time than you anticipated. You quickly found yourself warming up to Jensen. He radiated kindness and you felt like you’d known him for years. You told him you were a single mother, and how your daughter was staying with your parents until you got yourself moved into your new apartment. Mentions of your ex came up, but you tried to avoid delving too much into your past life with Tanner. He’d been abusive, and you pushed those memories to the back of your mind at all costs. 

Jensen pulled his truck into a big open yard and you noticed an arched sign that read Singer’s Auto stood high above the entrance. He lowered your car to the ground and unhooked it from the hitch before leading you inside. 

“Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got water, coffee, sweet tea, whiskey, rum, and any type of soda you can imagine.”

For the first time all day, your smile met your eyes. This man was too good to be true. If only you could be in a relationship with something this amazing. Jensen had to be either gay or unavailable because there was no way he was single with a personality like this. Let alone his looks. 

“I’d like some sweet tea, please. Thank you so much for doing all this. I’m sure you’ve got a family to get home to, and the last thing you probably wanted to do today was help a hitchhiker and her piece of shit car.”

The confused look he gave you made you instantly regret your words. Here was this man going out of his way to help you, and your brain-to-mouth filter probably just fucked everything up. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t appreciate everything.

“Don’t get me wrong, Jensen. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, but I just have this mindset where I wait for the other shoe to fall. I’ve never really done well in the relationship department, and I’ve always been let down eventually. You’ve only just met me and you don’t need this kind of turmoil. I should probably go. I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

It took a moment for Jensen to get his bearings, but once he did you felt his hand gently grab your wrist. He slowly spun you around to face him, and his eyes bore into yours with a fire you hadn’t seen on a man before. 

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart wait a minute. Can’t a guy just help a beautiful lady out without her thinking she’s being a burden? Y/N, listen, I’m not doing this because I feel like I have to. I’m doing this because I want to. There’s just something about you, something that draws me in, and I can’t seem to put a finger on it.”

For a few minutes, you both were silent. Staring into each other’s eyes with such intensity made you want to look away, but something stronger kept your gaze locked onto his. Ever so slowly, Jensen closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss you. His kiss ignited a fire in your core that had been dormant for as long as you could remember. 

When he pulled away, his pupils were just as lust blown as your own. Soon you were pushed against the nearest wall, his work uniform becoming disheveled along with your outfit. 

“I don’t know what it is Jensen, but I have never wanted someone so much in my life. I only just met you, and the thoughts I’m having scare me, but at the same time it’s thrilling.”

Your hands came to rest on his muscular chest as his hands cupped your face. 

“It scares the shit out of me too, Y/N, but I really want this,” 

Jensen admitted as he continued to devour your body with his eyes.  

“Do you want this as much as I do? If you don’t, we can stop. I’ll fix your car and we can both be on our way.  If you’d let me, though, I’d love to show you what it’s like to have a real man, Y/N.”

Instead of answering him, you pressed your lips firmly against his. Immediately his arms traveled down your small frame and came to rest on the back of your thighs. Without breaking the kiss, you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist. His clothed erection pressed against your pussy making a small moan escape your mouth. 

Jensen began leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He grabbed one of your breasts in each hand and began to massage them gingerly, his thumbs grazing over your nipples making them harden instantly. 

“You have entirely too many clothes on Y/N.”

You smirked and stepped away, slowly unbuttoning your shirt. It sent heat straight to your core seeing the effect you had on Jensen. His eyes roamed your body like a starving man, and the arousal in his pants was hard to miss. 

“You know, I’m no expert on lovemaking, but I’m pretty sure it’s easier to do when you’re naked, Jensen.”

A low growl escaped his throat as he stalked toward you like he was a predator. He picked you up and flung you over his shoulder making you squeal. 

“Jensen! Put me down! Where are we going?!”

“Bedroom.”

The one simple word held many promises as he climbed the stairs with ease. Seconds later you were placed gingerly on the comforter of his bed. He only left you for a moment to turn the light off and shut the door, and then he was on you again. His calloused hands pushed your shirt off your shoulders and slowly pulled it off each of your arms. 

Even though he was undressing you agonizingly slow, you relished in the fact that a man was paying this much attention to you. Your ex was a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy who was only interested in getting off before going back to his video games. Your mind completely forgot about your ex as soon as Jensen pulled down your bra exposing your breasts, his lips closed over one of your hardened nipples greedily sucking into his mouth. 

“Mmmm Jay … Fuck that feels so good”

He moved to the other nipple paying it as much attention before leaving a trail of kisses down to your navel. 

“You’re so beautiful Y/N”

Jensen made quick work of the rest of your clothes before taking his off as well. If you thought he was gorgeous with clothes on, he was even more glorious without them. Perfect was the only description appropriate for the man that stood before you. 

“C’mere Jensen. I won’t bite.”

You winked at him invitingly, and he let out this full-body laugh that was contagious.

“Y/N I don’t know if I believe that.”

He climbed onto the bed and positioned his body over yours before pulling you in for another kiss. His tongue swept your lower lip asking for permission which you granted almost immediately. Your body arched up, his cock hard as a rock pressing against your leg.

“Please … need you.”

Jensen smirked against your pulse point, grinding himself along your slick folds. 

“Gonna have to be a little more specific Princess. Where do you need me exactly?”

If you could form a coherent thought you’d make a smart-ass comment, but right now you barely knew your name. Much less able to speak in full sentences. 

“Fuck me, Jay! Wanna feel your cock inside me. Please!”

Jensen lined himself up and slowly thrust inside you, his cock filling you up inch by inch was almost enough to make you cum right then. It had been a while since you’d been with a man, and he hadn’t prepped you. 

“Unnghh fuck … you’re so wet and tight for me, Y/N.”

Your nails dug into his biceps, his forehead resting on yours as you both got used to each other. 

“Make love to me, Jay.”

Ever so slowly, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you. His moans were barely heard over your cries of need. The steady rhythm of his cock hitting your sweet spot made the coil in your lower belly tighter and tighter. You wouldn’t last long with him like this, and you wanted desperately to make him cum with you. 

“Let me ride you, Jensen.”

The look he gave you was almost primal. In a matter of seconds, he had flipped over onto his back and helped you sink down onto his throbbing length. 

“Christ, Y/N, I’m not gonna last like this.”

Using the muscles in your thighs, you rose up off his cock and looked deeply into his eyes.

“Neither will I, Jay. Want you to cum with me.”

His hands held onto your sides as you began to ride him. His hips rose to meet yours, thrusting his cock deeper into your soaked cunt, and pretty soon he was completely in control again. Your cries echoed off the walls as your climax neared. 

“J-Jay! I … I’m so close baby! Please … make me cum!”

One of his hands left your side and began rubbing circles around your clit.

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

Seconds later, he felt your walls tighten around his cock, as you both fell over the edge together. Your chest heaved as you aid beside him on the bed. He covered you up before cradling your face and kissing you sweetly.

Jensen pulled away, his smile met his eyes as he looked at you with nothing but love.

“So, how about some sweet tea?”

#j snow writes #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ross ackes x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ross ackles x you #jensen x you #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ross ackles x y/n #jensen x y/n #jensen ackles smut #jensen ross ackles smut #jensen smut

[clusterfuck-yandere]

PUPPY OBSESSION V

Yandere Leon Kennedy x Reader

Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V

Y’all wanted it, so y’all got it. Thank you for being so patient and waiting an entire fucking year (Christ, has it really been that long??). And so — without further ado — I hope you enjoy part 5 of this quirky series, tee hee.

This is in HC format.

The reader is gender neutral.

Contains: feelings of paranoia, being hunted, deliberations on murder, Stockholm syndrome if you squint.

↳ ༉‧₊ You woke up to the worst pain in your life.

And that’s no exaggeration, either.

Your legs felt like they were splintering at the bone, and your cheeks stung of tiny cuts. Not to mention your aching joints and muscles.

After a while, however, you managed to sit upright without falling flat back on the ground. And that’s when you decided to assess your current situation;

You had no idea where the fuck you were.

It was morning, at least, so you were able to see the tall trees that surrounded your battered form. The only thing you could hear were the soft chirps of distant birds.

Lost in a forest, you noted. So, escaping WASN’T just a dream…

Part of you wanted to rejoice at this revelation. You were finally free; free from him. After being in that basement for god knows how long, you escaped..!!

But another part of you knew it wasn’t that simple.

You knew he was coming after you. Hell, he was probably searching all night, and even still searching. There’s no way he would just let you hit him with a vase, jump through a window, and disappear into the woods.

You might’ve escaped, but you quite literally weren’t out of the woods yet.

Which is why you found yourself struggling to your feet. It hurt like a bitch (maybe jumping out of a window was a bad idea), but the remaining adrenaline of the night before — mixed with your unwavering determination — got you standing in no time.

If you wanted to remain free, you had to keep moving.

It was the only way.

↳ ༉‧₊ Walking through the woods was a nightmare in itself.

And it wasn’t because your legs ached with every step. Well, that might’ve been part of it, but it definitely was the least of your worries.

Every single sound you heard — every snap of a twig or crunch of a leaf — sent waves of terror through your body. For all you knew, any of those sounds could’ve been him.

God, what if he was following you from a distance? Carefully watching until you took a rest, which would be the perfect moment for him to catch you off guard?

Then again, he probably wouldn’t be patient enough for that. If he saw you, he’d probably waste no time in tackling you or something.

A shiver went up your spine, though you didn’t know if it was the chilly morning air or the thought of him charging at you…

All the more reason to keep moving, you told yourself.

But… moving towards where?

These woods were unfamiliar to you, and you weren’t sure if Leon had neighbors in the woods.

Maybe you could find a nearby town? Or a campsite of some sort? Even a highway would be good enough.

Whatever was closest, you’d find a way to work with it.

Anywhere that wasn’t near him was like heaven, after all.

↳ ༉‧₊ The woods seemed to go on for hours.

And, admittedly, it probably did.

You had no idea how long you were walking for. But the sun was right above your head, meaning it was almost likely around noontime.

Though your rumbling stomach was really the only indication you needed for the time…

Okay, you had to admit; your escape wasn’t so well-thought out. You were so hung up on the actual escape part that you didn’t really think about what would happen afterwards. And that was really evident in your lack of food… which is kind of important for survival.

Maybe I should’ve taken a bit longer to plan…

You shook the thought from your head. There was no way you would spend anymore time in that place. If you had to sleep one more night with him, you might’ve lost it.

… Though, maybe you already have lost it.

Even so, you still had to keep moving. No matter how tired your pained legs were, you had to keep looking for something. There was no time for a break; you couldn’t take a break.

↳ ༉‧₊ Your body, however, had other plans.

By the time the sky was a brilliant orange color, you were practically crawling on the forest floor.

You bitterly thought about how pathetic you must’ve looked; wrinkled clothing caked in mud, dirt underneath your fingernails, hands clawing into the earth to drag the rest of your body forward…

And it didn’t help that your stomach was rumbling louder than you would’ve preferred…

Or that your throat felt so dry…

However, your luck seemed to be turning around a bit when your ears picked up on a soft, trickling, gushing noise.

Water.

The thought of a river or stream nearby motivates you enough to shakily get off of the ground, your legs stumbling towards the promising sounds of nice, cold water.

It didn’t take long before you managed to find yourself on a riverbank, jagged pebbles crunching under your feet as you lurched towards the clear and glittering water.

You wasted no time in cupping your hands and plunging them into the river. The cool water felt refreshing against your hands, creating a soothing ripple effect across your entire aching body.

Was this water clean? Probably not. God knows what nasty particles were swimming around in this unfiltered river water, and you did not want to know where this water was coming from.

But none of that stopped you from bringing your hands up to your lips and gulping it down.

You repeated this action about 5 or 6 times, the cool water doing good to quench your thirst. Despite the earthy taste — and the overwhelming flavor of straight-up river — it was probably the best water you’ve had in a while.

↳ ༉‧₊ It was then that you decided to take a break for the rest of the night.

The sun was barely peeking behind the tree line at this point, and wandering in the dark wasn’t going to do you any favors.

Besides, that little voice in the back of your head that was pleading for you to rest was getting on your nerves.

You cupped some water into your hands once more to splash your face, effectively removing whatever dirt and grime you had collected. The cold liquid against your skin made you feel much more rejuvenated than when you initially woke up.

You also took the time to dip your sore feet into the river to provide some sense of relief. A sigh of relief was pulled from your lips as you looked up to the darkening sky.

Why did it have to be you? Why did this sick fuck have to destroy everything — your promising career, your general sense of safety, your entire life — all because of his borderline psychotic obsession?

Did you piss off whatever god was out there so badly that they decided to punish you like this? Did they create Leon Kennedy to be your own personal demon? Someone that would latch himself onto you like a parasite and drain you of everything you loved?

I... I have to make you love me, his twisted voice echoed in your head. I— I need to make you love me… pl— please— please love me…

Love me…

Love me…

Love me…

A distant twig snapping made your shoulders jolt.

↳ ༉‧₊ It was him.

There was something about the way a shiver ran up your spine that made you know.

He was somewhere nearby.

So, as quietly as you could manage, you pulled your feet out from the river and frantically scanned your surroundings.

There was a thick, good-sized tree with a bush next to it that would (hopefully) provide adequate cover should he look your way. Hiding from him made you feel pathetic — you were supposed to be an officer; someone who was fearless and brave — but you had no idea what he was armed with.

Or if he minded cuddling with a dead body.

That’s why you darted towards the tree. You paid extra mind towards the dead leaves on the ground, making sure not to create any sound that would alert him, as you dove behind your makeshift cover.

It was quiet for a few moments. The only sound you could hear was the trickling body of water next to you, and you were starting to doubt yourself.

Maybe it wasn’t him after all…

But another twig snapped — sounding much closer than before — and your stomach dropped completely.

Crunch… crunch… crunch… crunch…

You could hear dead leaves being stepped on by careful feet, getting louder and louder by the second. Your head carefully peaked out from behind the tree and bush as you silently prayed for it to be someone else; anyone else.

But, of course, fate never worked in your favor.

When he came into your field of vision, you had to fight your initial urge to bolt the other direction. But you knew better than to give away your location and have him chase you in your current state.

So, instead, you took notice of his current state.

He was still in his RPD uniform, though it was caked in mud and dirt. His hair was sporting a similar grimy look with dirty blonde strands poking every which way.

You weren’t close enough to admire him in full detail, but you did manage to catch the cuts that littered his face.

As well as the good-sized chunk of porcelain that was embedded in his forehead.

A dark part of your mind felt satisfied at this.

↳ ༉‧₊ Fortunately for you, he didn’t seem to notice your hiding spot.

You watched him slowly the riverbank, most likely trying to pick up on any signs that you were at least nearby.

It felt like hours passed before his head lowered towards the river. His shoulders hitched upwards before sagging downwards; you guessed it was from him heaving a sigh.

Maybe that means he’s given up, you thought. Or at least moving on to a new area.

But any hope of that went out the window when he suddenly dropped to his knees, his hands clutching at the pebbles on the riverbank.

You weren’t expecting him to do that, which is probably why you felt your entire body flinch. Your eyes narrowed as you watched him intently.

What is he doing?

Your question was quickly answered by the front sniffling noises that filled the evening air. Leon’s entire body seemed to tremble as the sniffling turned into full-on sobs.

He was crying.

Of course. Just your luck to have him come to the exact same area you’re in… just to cry.

All you could do was uncomfortably watch him wail into his hands, his body curling into itself.

“… (Y/N),” you could faintly hear him whimper. “(Y/N)… wh-where are you?!”

The way he sobbed out your name crawled underneath your skin, sending a deep chill up your back.

He reminded you of a lost child crying out for his parents…

Except this lost child needs to fuck off, you mentally spat out.

In between his hiccups, you could hear those disgusting I love you’s he would mumble into your ear. The ones that would haunt you during the night, or when he was away at work.

“I… love y-you… I-I love you…”

“I love you…”

“I love you…”

“I love you…”

It would always roll off of his lips like a prayer.

His wailing soon turned into soft whimpers, which then turned into soft sniffles. What felt like an eternity of his cries piercing your ears was finally over.

He looked as though he was asleep.

Find a rock, a dark corner of your mind screamed. Find a rock that’s big enough to crush his skull in.

Killing him… that was…

Well…

You couldn’t explain it, but something about that idea just didn’t sit right with you.

Which was absolutely crazy to you; this was the guy that stalked you, broke into your house, kidnapped you, kept you in his basement for god knows how long, and tried force his twisted romantic fantasies onto you.

A psycho like him deserves to die, that dark voice reasoned with you.

But…

Maybe it was some sense of morality that was holding you back. To kill another human, well, is a crime. Leon is a piece of shit, but murdering him wouldn’t make you any better. As much as part of you thought he deserves death, you knew it wasn’t up to you to make that call. If anything, if he deserved anything, it was professional help (in a nice padded room far away from you, might you add).

Even so, the dark voice was persistent.

Kill him. He’s done nothing but make your life a living hell. He’s practically hunting you down, for fucks sake, and he won’t stop until he has you again.

And if that ever happens…

God, what would he even do to you?

↳ ༉‧₊ You found yourself in a moral dilemma.

The night was upon you, and Leon remained asleep on the riverbank.

It would be an easy kill, you mused to yourself. If you were quiet enough, you could pick up a rock, sneak up on him, and hit him as hard as you could. Over and over and over again.

But… what if he woke up? What if he managed to grab the rock from your hands, or heard you approach him to begin with? Would you win that fight? Would you be able to outrun him?

And… more importantly… would you have enough willpower to strike him in the first place?

Surely, you would, right? This man is terrible. All of your rage should be bubbling towards the surface, giving you the strength to cave his fucking face in.

But something was holding you back. You didn’t know what it was, but it somehow trumped over your anger and caused anxiety to claw at your mind.

Kill him… kill him… kill him…!!

You felt your hands trembling as you stared down at them.

I… I can’t…

It just wasn’t right. Leon was fucked up in the brain, sure, but should he really die because of it? In his sleep, no less?

It might not be right, but it might be the only way you can get the hell out of here.

So…

↳ ༉‧₊ What is your plan of action?

#↳ ༉‧₊ PUPPY OBSESSION #↳ ༉‧₊ YANDERE RESIDENT EVIL #↳ ༉‧₊ YANDERE LEON KENNEDY #↳ ༉‧₊ YANDERE LEON KENNEDY X READER

[violet-1atte]

Highway to Heaven (Ride)

I forgot to post this here...oops

Summary: Minho wakes up horny and Jisung is willing

Tags: Smut, power bottom!Minho, top!Jisung, light somnophilia, needy Minho, morning sex

AO3 Link

Minho woke up hot. His body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat and his bangs were sticking to his forehead. Jisung’s body had been plastered to him the whole night, accounting for most of the heat. But there was also another problem. He was hard and so horny. 

He’d had some kind of wet dream–one that he now couldn’t remember–but the effects still remained. And what was worse was the fact that he could feel Jisung’s own dick pressed against his lower back from how he was spooning him, and it was most definitely hard as well. His mouth filled with saliva and he gulped it down. When he shifted he could feel Jisung twitch behind him and it only made the burning need in his stomach intensify, the ache in his cock grow. 

He didn’t want to wake Jisung up. They had been busy lately and Jisung had already fucked him well before they went to sleep, so Minho knew he couldn’t be greedy, but fuck. He was so horny it was making him dizzy. He needed something, anything. He felt so incredibly empty and it didn’t help that he was still stretched from when he had ridden Jisung previously. The ache still remained in his ass and his thighs and rather than satiating him, it only made him crave more. 

Perhaps he could get up without Jisung waking and get off quickly. He tried wiggling out of his grasp, but that caused him to mumble in his sleep and stir. Shit.

He inhaled slowly through his nose and tried to picture anything at all that could get his hard cock to go down–old grannies, the ugly monster from the shitty horror movie he and Jisung had just watched–but nothing worked. Jisung had even shifted so now instead of his dick pressing into Minho’s back, it was pressed into his ass, so close yet so far away from where he actually needed it. 

Minho instinctively rolled his hips back against Jisung’s crotch and suppressed a groan at the feeling. His stomach stirred and his cock twitched in the confines of his boxers. He needed to stop, go back to sleep, let Jisung sleep, he–

“Jagi.” 

Minho gasped at the sound of Jisung’s sleep-addled voice, followed by a press of his hips against him. He shuddered and exhaled through his nose. “Hannie?” he whispered. When he got nothing in response he huffed and clenched his fists. He was doing that in his sleep. Minho gasped again when Jisung’s arms tightened around him and he was pulled closer to the warmth of his body. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

“Sung-ah. Jisungie,” Minho called, wetting his lips. Jisung would probably want to sleep, but he could go back to sleep while Minho had a little fun, right? “ Baby,” he sang, twisting around so that he could face his boyfriend. He poked Jisung’s cheek a couple times and after a moment he groaned and then his eyes fluttered open. 

“Mm, hyung?” he mumbled, the raspiness of his voice sending shivers down Minho’s spine. 

“Sorry for waking you, jagiya. I just woke up with a little… problem.” Now facing Jisung, he rolled his hips to meet Jisung’s, effectively grinding their cocks together. Jisung let out a startled whimper and the muscles in his jaw flexed. Goodness, he was gorgeous in the morning. His face was always a little swollen when he woke up, making his cheeks look extra fluffy, and his hair was tousled. Minho wanted to devour him. 

“Ah–I’m sleepy though, hyung,” Jisung whined, just like Minho knew he would. 

“You won’t need to do anything, Hannie,” Minho said, stroking Jisung’s cheek with his thumb. “I just need to sit on that pretty cock of yours.” 

Minho could tell his words affected him by the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He could even pick up on the slight change of breathing, the way Jisung’s breath hitched in his throat and then steadied out into shallower breaths. “‘M still half asleep though,” he said softly, but there was less protest in his voice. His cock was still fully hard against Minho, too. 

“That’s okay, baby. I like when you’re all pliant for me,” Minho said, smirking at the way Jisung’s rosy cheeks darkened. He ran his hand up and down his side, humming at the feel of his soft, warm skin under his fingers. “Can I please ride you, jagi? You can just go back to sleep, I just want you inside me,” he breathed, his voice getting that desperate tone it often got when he woke up horny. He batted his lashes. “I’ll make you feel good too, Hannie.”

Jisung gulped audibly and Minho swore he could feel his cock twitch against him. “O-okay,” he answered. “But I can just lay here?” 

Minho didn’t even attempt to keep the giddy grin off his face. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Jisung’s mouth and nodded. “Mhm, just lay there and let hyung use you, yeah?” 

Jisung shuddered and nodded, his eyes glazing over. Minho took the opportunity with the position they were in and turned Jisung to face him so he could bring their lips together in a kiss. Jisung let him in easily, barely kissing back as Minho took the lead licking past his parted lips. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and his stomach fluttered at the whimper Jisung made. He loved having Jisung like this–so gentle, so malleable, their shallow breaths mingling together as Minho took. Normally, he would kiss him like this for ages, run his tongue along his teeth, and nip at his bottom lip until he was a breathless, desperate mess. But this morning, he was feeling too desperate himself. 

He gave a peck to Jisung’s lips as he pulled away, grinning at the disheveled state he had left him in. It almost made Minho laugh. Jisung might just lay there for him, but there was no way he would be going back to sleep. 

Gently, Minho rolled Jisung over onto his back. Then he sat up and tossed the blankets back, revealing Jisung’s hard cock, straining against his underwear. There was already a wet spot there and the sight alone made Minho’s mouth water. The thought of sucking him off crossed his mind but for the time being his wants laid elsewhere. They would have a little extra time in the evening, and then Minho could relax with Jisung’s dick on his tongue. 

“Hm, you sure you’re sleepy, jagi?” Minho asked amusedly, reaching out to palm Jisung through his boxers. 

Jisung’s eyes widened and he bit his lip to suppress the whimper that crawled up his throat. “I am, ‘s just morning wood, hyung,” he explained. Minho chuckled fondly as he dragged his finger along his length. 

“Aww, nothing to do with me?” he asked in mock offense. Jisung opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Minho pressing his thumb into his slit through the slick fabric of his underwear. He gasped and his hips jerked upward. The sight made Minho’s stomach jolt with arousal. 

“Y-you know how I get wh-when you’re like this,” he whined, his bottom lip jutting out in a petulant pout. 

“Mmm, s’pose I do,” Minho agreed. It was no secret to either of them that Jisung liked when Minho got a little needy, a little insistent. Somehow Jisung always ended up the needier of the two, but Minho liked it that way. Liked how overwhelmed he could get him just from sitting on his cock. 

Not wasting another minute, Minho got up to his knees and tugged his boxers off, hissing as the cool hair hit his cock. He was so hard it almost hurt–there was no way he would last long. “Hand me the lube, baby?” he asked, already sounding shamefully breathless. Jisung hummed absentmindedly, eyes trained on Minho’s cock as it hung, hard and leaking, between his thick thighs. “Enjoying the view?” 

Jisung blushed, averting his gaze as he reached for the lube sitting on the nightstand, left there from the night before. “Stop teasing,” he huffed as he handed Minho the bottle. 

“Maybe someday.” Minho giggled as he popped the cap and coated his fingers in the slick substance. A shiver went through his body at the hungry look in Jisung’s half-lidded eyes, now focused on the shiny lines of his fingers. The corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk as he reached behind himself to press the first finger into his hole. His lips parted in a soft moan, eyebrows knitting together as he pushed inside himself. He was still loose from Jisung fucking him the night before and the memory had heat coiling in his gut. He bit his bottom lip, swallowing thickly as he pushed another finger past his rim. He dropped his head and his muscles tensed. Jisung was always much better at stretching him open, his fingers longer than Minho’s own–he could always reach so deep. He groaned as he thrust his fingers deeper, just shy of his prostate. “Jisungie,” he breathed, a bead of precum leaking from the tip of his cock. 

“You’re so hot, hyung,” Jisung responded, on the edge of a moan. His voice was rough, thick with arousal, a sound that had an almost Pavlovian effect on Minho. His hips jerked and he leaned forward, trying to get a better angle for his fingers. Fuck, he needed Jisung’s cock. 

He deemed himself stretched enough after a few more pumps of his fingers and he pulled them out with a loud squelch. Jisung shuddered under him. Minho wet his lips and took a deep breath as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of Jisung’s boxers. “Mm, can’t wait to have your big cock inside me.” He laughed a little when Jisung twitched, but it quickly faded off into a groan as he pulled his boxers down. The sight of Jisung’s pretty cock alone had him dizzy, lightheaded from how fast his blood rushed south. “Fuck. I’ll never get over how pretty you are.” 

Jisung whimpered a little and his fingers flexed on the bed beside him. “Hyung…” 

“What?” Minho asked, cocking his head to the side. “Don’t tell me you’re getting needy. Thought you were tired.” He grabbed the base of Jisung’s cock, relishing the moan it pulled from him. He even felt good in his hand, so thick and hot against his palm. He was tempted to play with him, jerk him off for a bit like he often did, turn him into a mess on the verge of coming before he even rode him. But instead, he grabbed the lube and poured a generous amount over his cockhead. Jisung hissed and he grinned as he spread the lube over his length. 

“Minho-hyung, please,” Jisung whined, pressing his head back into the pillows. He looked so pretty like this, with his hair fanned across the pillow and his chubby cheeks all rosy. Minho fucking loved him. 

“Shh, hyung’s got you, baby,” Minho hummed. 

He lined himself up with Jisung’s cock and his eyebrows pinched together at the first brush of his tip against his hole. And then without a warning, he sank all the way down, taking all of Jisung’s cock in one go. It punched a choked gasp out of him and a moan out of Jisung. The stretch burned since he had only used two fingers and didn’t give himself time to adjust, but that was one of Minho’s favorite parts. It sated something deep within him. There was nothing more satisfying than the soreness that would follow.

Jisung looked like he was seconds away from coming as Minho gave them both a second to breathe before moving. He clutched the sheets in his fists and was biting his lip so hard it would probably bruise. “Sh-shit, hyung. I dunno–dunno if I’m gonna last long,” he stuttered. 

“Hah–’s okay, I’m not gonna last long either, Sungie. Wanted–fuck, wanted you so bad,” Minho panted. Jisung filled him up so well, better than anyone else ever had before. He felt him so deep he was sure his insides were permanently rearranged to fit him. If Minho could sit on his cock forever, he would. 

“I’m gonna move now,” Minho warned after a minute. 

Jisung nodded weakly. “Okay, want you to.” 

Minho rolled his hips a couple times before he lifted himself up, breath catching in his throat at the sensation of Jisung’s length dragging along his walls. Then he slammed back down, ass slapping against Jisung’s hips. “ Mmgh, fuck,” he moaned. He easily picked up a steady rhythm, years of dancing allowing him to move smoothly. The muscles in his thighs flexed with each rise and fall of his hips, practically rippling under tanned skin. Jisung’s hands eventually found their way to his thighs, digging his fingertips into the flesh. Moans and whines spilled from his lips as the action made Minho speed up and his nails dug crescents into his skin.

“Oh, oh yes, fuck, Hannie,” Minho gasped, eyes rolling back. Jisung’s grip was strong enough to hurt, but that made it so good. “So–so much for being– hah –being sleepy.” 

“Can’t– hyungg— can’t be sl-sleepy when you’re so–” He struggled to get the words out, choking on his own moans whenever Minho clenched around him. “So hot, mmm– and you’re s-so tight, hyung.” He whined, high and breathless. The sounds went straight to Minho’s cock. He would never get tired of how noisy Jisung got when he rode him. “You feel so good.” 

“So do you, jagi.” Minho gasped when the head of Jisung’s dick hit his prostate, sparks of pleasure bursting through his stomach. “Hnng–Fill me up so good, you’re so good for hyung.” His voice sounded foreign to him, two pitches higher, so needy. 

“Lo-love being good for hyung,” Jisung whimpered, fingers flexing against Minho’s thighs. 

“Always good–shit, look at you laying there, letting hyung take whatever he wants,” Minho said. He was getting close already, the coils of pleasure tightening in his stomach. His thighs were starting to burn a little too from how intensely he had been riding Jisung, but he always enjoyed a little burn. 

“Hyung, hyung, I’m close,” Jisung babbled, eyes glazed over as he watched Minho bounce on his cock. “Should–should I–” he tried to lift his hips but Minho pushed him down. 

“No, let me–told you that you didn’t hah-have to do anything,” he managed. “I’m close too.” He wrapped his fingers around the base of his own cock, breath hitching as he began to stroke himself in time with the rolls of his hips. He leaned forward at the same time and placed his free hand on Jisung’s chest to give himself more leverage. The slight change in the angle made Jisung’s cock hit Minho’s prostate with every thrust and the pleasure soon became overwhelming. 

“ Ahh fuck Jisungie, ‘m gonna come,” Minho moaned. 

“Yes, yes, hyung,” Jisung exclaimed, his voice cracking. “Please, wanna see you come on my cock, please—” 

“ Fuck.” Minho’s hole spasmed and his stomach tensed as his orgasm hit him with Jisung buried deep inside. His mouth fell open in a silent moan and he stroked himself as he came, cum spilling all over his hand and stomach. He continued grinding down against Jisung to the point of overstimulation, his moans turning into high-pitched whines. “O-oh god,” he choked, finally releasing his cock as the last spurt of cum spilled over his hand. 

Jisung’s pupils were blown wide as he stared–which made Minho want to see him fall apart more. So he clenched around him and reached forward with his cum covered hand and pressed his fingers to Jisung’s lips. “Say, ‘ah,’” he instructed. Jisung’s eyes widened but he obeyed easily, parting his lips to take Minho’s fingers into his mouth. “Good boy,” he hummed. If he wasn’t already spent, the sight alone could get him hard again. And Jisung seemed to like it too because his cock twitched inside Minho as he sucked the cum off his fingers, tongue swirling around the digits. He looked dazed, positively fucked out. 

“You gonna come inside me, pretty?” Minho asked, circling his hips. “Fill me up with your cum?” 

Jisung nodded vigorously, Minho’s fingers still in his mouth. When Minho pressed down on his tongue, he gagged but didn’t pull back. 

“Fuck, look at you. So so good. Come on baby, come inside hyung.” He picked up fucking himself on Jisung again and the other’s muffled moans filled the room, his eyes rolling back. Now that Minho had come, he let himself go, Minho’s fingers down his throat and his tight heat around his cock enough to bring him tipping over the edge. He came with a cry around Minho’s fingers and spilled into him in hot spurts. There was so much that it leaked out of Minho’s hole and spilled down the base of his cock. It was messy, a little gross, and exactly how they both loved it. 

Minho rode him through his orgasm until he was gasping and whining for him to stop. Then Minho lifted himself off, cringing a little bit at the cum spilling down his thighs. “We’re gonna have to shower,” he mumbled as he collapsed next to Jisung and threw a leg over his waist. 

Jisung panted quietly for a minute before saying anything else and then he wiggled away. “You’re all sticky, hyung,” he complained, his voice coming out breathless. 

Minho chuckled. “And who’s fault is that?” 

“ Yours, because it was your idea,” he said, but there was a blush on his cheeks. Minho couldn’t help but poke them. 

“Cute.” 

Jisung grumbled under his breath for a moment, which just made Minho laugh. “Let’s just go hop in the shower before we have to do anything else. Check the hall to make sure no one’s there for me?” He smiled and blinked rapidly. Jisung groaned loudly but he was smiling. 

“Sure, sure, whatever. As if they didn’t hear everything anyway…”

“Yeah, someone’s loud.”

Jisung swatted at Minho’s shoulder and shook his head as he stood up. “I’m not the only one!” 

Minho slapped his butt and he yelped, spinning away from the danger zone. “Respect your hyung, Hannie.” Jisung rolled his eyes before giving Minho the most heart-stopping smile imaginable. 

“You’re so…” He leaned forward and gave Minho a soft kiss. “Come on. We’re both going to check. Since you woke me up earlier.” He grabbed his wrist and this time Minho didn’t protest, instead following him to the door. Jisung was right, after all. It was only fair. As he walked, there was a slight ache, and now that he wasn’t thinking with his dick anymore, he knew he would regret it later. But at least he got what he wanted anyway.

#fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids smut #smut #stray kids fanfic #skz smut #skz fic #skz fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #minsung #minsung smut #bottom!minho #top!jisung #power bottom #soft somno #somno fantasy #sleepy sex #minho smut #lee minho smut #jisung smut #han jisung smut

[putaposyinyourhair]

Slowly but Also Like All at Once

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

noah diaz x mirage (they’re def boyfriends)

warnings: goddamnit noah cheer up dude (also death/bodies mention)

mirage tones it down with the pet names but then comes in hot at the end with a big one + dad doesn’t seem to approve

“Is the rider part of Arcee?” Noah inquires, watching as the Ducati ahead navigates the curved exit ramp of the Sunrise Highway— Noah is kind of transfixed honestly, awed by the way the early morning light shines off of the pink and white finish of Arcee’s altmode.

“Nah, that’s holomatter,” Mirage reveals offhandedly.

“Holo-what?”

“It’s a projection,” the mech clarifies. “Can be light or solid. We use them to draw less attention to ourselves. Be kinda weird to see a bike drive itself, right?”

Noah nods. Definitely weird. His lips pout to one side, watching Arcee and mulling over the idea of hologram-like projections for a moment before he starts, wide gaze flashing down to Mirage’s radio.

“Wait, can you do that?” he questions pointedly.

“Yep,” Mirage pops the ‘p’ cheerfully, before his radio makes a small, muted buzzing sound. “Well… I used to.”

Noah stills.

“My projector was damaged pretty badly after Peru,” Mirage admits softly, kind of wistfully. “I can project light. I mean, sorta. It doesn’t last very long and it’s really buggy but…”

The mech trails off for a moment.

“I can’t do solid anymore,” he confesses finally, faintly.

Noah sinks into the seat, forced down by the sudden, all-encompassing guilt.

Shit.

“Ratchet tried to fix it but it’s just one of those things, y’know?” Mirage goes on, his pitch rising in volume as if in response to Noah’s physical reaction to his admission. “Bumblebee can’t talk. I can’t use holoforms. No biggie.”

The bot isn’t a very good liar, Noah realizes.

He has zero doubt in his mind that losing a piece of yourself like that has got to be terrible. But he’s not going to acknowledge that out loud though. Not when it’s probably his fault.

Damn it.

The inward confession makes his chest sting.

Noah shakes his head, not wanting to think on it anymore. He’s already cried once. He’s not about to do it again. Mirage is going to start thinking he’s some kind of giant wuss or something.

He sucks in a sharp breath and forces himself to lift and drop a shoulder.

“Who needs hologram—form…things,” he stammers out a bit awkwardly. “When you’re already cool as fuck anyway, dude.”

Mirage chuckles, the sound vibrating through the seat beneath Noah. The leather warms up for a moment and Noah realizes that comfort is exactly what that sensation is supposed to convey.

He’s just not sure it’s working this time around.

The seconds crawl by and neither of them moves to speak again and so they fall into a strange, sort of unsettling silence. Noah, for as much as he tries to not think about it, can only do just that; stew in the guilt.

Because it is his fault.

Mirage had almost died for him.

Mirage had to be rebuilt and repaired from practically the ground up because of him.

Mirage had lost parts of himself because of Noah.

Noah’s a walking, talking hazard around the mech.

He frowns, pulling his feet up onto the seat so he can wrap his arms around his legs and curl into himself— ignoring the way the seatbelt kind of digs into the skin of his neck. In the distance, amidst fog and cloud-cover, he can see Manhattan’s skyscrapers reaching for the heavens.

“Hey, Noah?”

He glances down at the radio— it’s backlight cycling through a few different colors; blue, yellow, green, and red, before it settles on its usual light blue.

“I’d do it all over again in a sparkbeat, y’know,” Mirage claims boldly. “If it meant keeping you safe.”

Noah’s eyes widen so quickly, he half expects his eyeballs to drop right out of his head for a moment. His breath catches in his throat and his chest heaves— his heart stuttering over a couple beats.

Oh, fuck.

Noah’s not one hundred percent sure, but he remembers Mirage once saying, ‘Cross my spark, hope to die,’ and so he assumes it to be the cybertronian version of a heart.

The declaration is… overwhelming, to say the least. In a good way.

But also in a way that Noah feels he is undeserving of.

It compels his own heart to keep pounding away, essentially doing somersaults underneath his ribcage. Which— under the recent revelation that Mirage can actually feel it thumping away— is embarrassing as all shit. But Noah can’t help it.

He’d do it all over again.

Noah doesn’t think Mirage even realizes how much that one sentence means. Or maybe he does. And he actually means it. Noah hopes that’s not true.

He never wants Mirage to do it again.

The radio warbles and Noah watches the backlight flicker again.

“Mirage,” Arcee’s voice comes through, clear and urgent. “We’re needed back at base-ops stat.”

Immediately, Mirage groans— in a long and suffering kind of way that reminds Noah of Kris every time he starts whining about how he still can’t get past Bowser.

“I’m gettin’ my aft chewed out for breems,” Mirage gripes with a sharp huff. “Fraggin’ Ratchet, man. Messin’ with my game. What a hater.”

Noah has no idea what half those words mean but he’s pretty sure he understands the gist of it all.

Which is why he isn’t all that surprised when, instead of driving back into Brooklyn, Arcee leads the way north into Queens and then across the East River into the Bronx.

Noah shifts quietly in his seat.

His ma’s gonna be so mad when he does eventually make his way home. He hasn’t checked in with her for hours, which is unlike him. And Breanna Diaz don’t play when it comes to her kids.

But at the same time, he thinks he can understand the sort of urgency a call from Optimus Prime himself might instill in the autobots.

Both he and Mirage are silent as they make their way into a neighborhood of the Bronx known as City Island— a fitting name. At this point, the sun has risen high up into the sky and the inhabitants of City Island are starting to slowly make their way outside in preparation for another day.

Arcee and Mirage pull into what looks like some kind of junkyard marina at the far end of the island, where old boats have been left to rust in every corner of the property, shadowed by dilapidated warehouses. At the water’s edge, a rickety dock bobs in response to the waves below it.

Noah reaches out and white-knuckles the Porsche’s door handle as Arcee and Mirage roll slowly over the surprisingly sturdy wooden slats of the dock. There’s an antiquated ferry at the end, and Noah does his best to hold in a frightened little yelp when both bots lift off the dock— only half-transforming for a second— so they can step onto the ferry.

Once they’re safely aboard, Arcee’s holoform swings her leg over the Ducati and heads off— Noah assumes to start up the ferry.

“You want out?” Mirage inquires, the driver side door popping open with a muted click.

Noah bites into his bottom lip, thinking for a moment. He thinks he knows exactly where they’re heading.

Hart Island is located just to the east of City Island. It’s a place that’s pretty much synonymous with death, with deserted buildings from different eras lying in an array of ruins all over it— the island having been left abandoned to its’ own destruction since the late seventies.

Honestly, it’s kind of the perfect place for the autobots to hide out.

Noah’s not going to lie and say that it doesn’t freak him out though. Supposedly, there’s thousands of bodies buried in the ground at Hart Island.

So he shakes his head and shimmies away from the open door— not ready to step out quite yet. Mirage quickly closes it with another soft click.

“Okay,” he acknowledges. “I gotchu.”

Noah decides he really needs his friend to stop reminding him of that fact.

He knows.

The ferry sputters to life beneath them and after a moment, it rocks forward— pulling away from the dock lazily.

Noah inhales deeply then blows it out through his nose. And forces himself to think about something else, anything else— aside from the fact that he’s currently on a rusting metal death trap headed towards a possibly haunted island to face alien life forms that probably don’t even like him.

His distraught gaze lands on the Ducati parked off to the Porsche’s right.

“Arcee help you sneak out?” he questions. If a holoform is needed to operate the ferry, it has to be the only explanation. Right?

“Yeah,” Mirage admits, but not like he’s shy about it— more like he’s proud of it. “She’s a real G.”

Noah can’t help the smile the words pull from him.

He’s glad that, despite what he thinks is a clear disdain for him on the part of Optimus, Arcee doesn’t seem to hold any negative opinions when it comes to Noah.

He knows Optimus sees him— them, humans— in a different light now. That the battle in Peru— and both Noah and Elena’s drive to fight for their planet— had changed the giant mech’s opinion of the human race.

But the surly leader of the autobots had only begrudgingly allowed Noah to try and fix Mirage, at first, at the behest of Arcee and Bumblebee. When he’d failed, Optimus had been quick to change his mind, quick to take Mirage away.

Leaving Noah wondering, for months, if he’d ever see his friend again. His best friend, probably.

He’s quickly starting to realize Mirage means that much to him.

“Aw, scrap,” Mirage grumbles suddenly, his altmode shuddering slightly around Noah.

Noah looks up from the steering wheel— from the spot he’d been staring at whilst in his head— to see another dock gradually approaching. Rusting, multi-colored shipping containers stacked at its edge, providing cover for the two autobots standing just beyond them; Optimus Prime and an unfamiliar blue and white autobot with a star of life insignia across his chest plates.

Noah assumes he must be the infamous hater; Ratchet. An immediate thought tickles at the back of Noah’s mind as he recalls his first contact with the autobots in that warehouse months ago.

He frowns.

“How’s Ratchet ‘round humans?” he asks warily, just as the ferry gently bumps into the edge of the dock, their short trip across the water coming to a, thankfully, safe end.

Mirage’s radio drones out a low buzzing sound and Noah takes it for exactly what it is: Ratchet is not a fan of Earth’s native species.

“It’s okay, though!” Mirage advises him cheerily as Noah watches Arcee’s holoform return. “I got your back, bro.”

Noah isn’t all that convinced. Not that he doesn’t trust Mirage or anything.

And it must show on his face because as soon as they’re off the ferry— Mirage gently pushing him out of the Porsche’s cabin, so he can transform into his natural rootmode, Arcee doing the same beside them— he leans down closer to Noah, who is staring up at the clear disapproval on the faces of both Optimus and Ratchet.

“He’s not as mean as he looks, I swear,” Mirage testifies in what Noah thinks is supposed to be a whisper but is clearly heard by the others, including Ratchet who scowls at Mirage. “I won’t let him mess witchu, cariño.”

Noah absolutely freezes.

… what.

#noah x mirage #norage #noah diaz #mirage #mirage rotb #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #mirage x noah

[asumofwords]

Ok lets talk about the important thing here:

How do you think Aemond, Aegon, Daemon and Cole dicks are?

🤔

Okay this is a really important question that I must answer.

And since my brain only ever thinks and imagines these things, and in my experience I have a fairly good eye for guessing (hands give it allll awayyyyy), let me begin 😈

Aemond’s cock would be long and have a nice thickness to it, I wouldn’t say he would be massively girthy, but I feel like your hand couldn’t wrap around it completely 😈.

His tip would be a blush pink, the same colour as his lips. He would occasionally trim the hair around the base, and that man is definitely veiny 🤤 I feel like he would be a good 6-7 inches long and very clean 🤤

There’s just something about skinny men, they always have a horse cock.

He has the perfect size dick (although to be fair, I actually hate long cocks because they hurt my cervix lmao) and he knows what to do with it. It has a slight upwards curve, a gift from the gods truly.

His cum would be salty, and quite nice to swallow down. It wouldn’t be gross or foul tasting, this man has a strict diet, and exercises often !

Aemond is clean and makes sure to take good care of his cleanliness and appearance, prim and proper like his attire.

Where Aemond has length, Aegon has girth.

He would sit around 5-6 inches long and super fucking girthy, not a chode, but quite thick. It would stretch you uncomfortably or painfully if you didn’t prep first. His tip would be the same colour as his lips but would get a deeper shade of pink and look angry when he’s horny.

I feel that he wouldn’t be too veiny, though would have some very soft foreskin to nibble on and I feel a bit extra tbh💀

Aegon is one of those fuckers who can cum and keep going, must run in the family. Absolute menace too, despite his cruelty, man knows how to make you squeal. He’s a whore, he fucks whoever, whenever, and has learnt tricks along the way.

Man definitely has a dick that smells like a dick. Not exactly the cleanest of cocks, musky as fuck, salty too, and his cum would be rancid because his diet consists of just alcohol and scraps of food lmao.

Definitely used one of his many dildo toys on himself or will use it on you instead, or make you use it on yourself and have him watch 😮‍💨

Aegon could dissolve your insides with his spunk. Acidic as fuck, a one way highway to thrush or BV. Hits good tho….

Daddy Daemon has a monster cock.

I’m not joking. Look at the size of this man. And his hands ? Huge. HUGE. I’m not joking. I’ve seen it. Anyway, back to his cock.

Daemon has a dick around 8-9 inches long and fat as fuck, he’s got a meaty cock.

A third leg. A tripod if you will.

Poor Rhaenyra is getting her guts rearranged every time he fucks her. She needs 3-5 business days to recover from the sheer force of the thing.

Pale and veiny, when hard his foreskin pulls back to reveal a gentle pink tip (same as his lips). Clean and well kept, Daddy Daemon’s cum tastes like when the heavens have opened and you have been offered retribution. Sometimes sweet, depending on what he has eaten.

Would absolutely be open to the idea of being pegged and anal play. Loves having his ass eaten ngl. This man is a freaky queer daddy 😈

Shoots fucking ropes though, you’ll be leaking for days!

Ser Criston Cole deserves no praise, but I would be lying if I said he didn’t have a pretty cock.

Tan, and a bit on the longer side like Aemond, this man would not know what to do with it. A sin really, to have such a pretty cock, and not use it.

A slightly more tanned knob, leaning to a soft purple colour, average thickness and the occasional vein, upwardly curved for your pleasure.

Ser Cole’s cock would be as clean as a whistle. I feel like Cole would definitely let you put a finger inside his ring, maybe too, and he would blush so pretty about it.

His bush would be soft as fuck too, have you seen this man’s hair ? Lush as fuck, looks like it should be in a hair commercial ad, and velvety smooth. I wouldn’t mind getting some of those hairs tangled up in my nose 🤪💀

His cum would be musky, yet not repugnant like Aegon. He eats well and is always moving so it wouldn’t be marinating inside of him, though I wonder if he empties the tank often or not, or if he actually is fermenting his seed 🤪

#i need a lobotomy

[waywardxwords]

Part Five

Part 5 of the Highway to Hell series Word Count: 2,863 Ratings/Warnings: Some cursing, a little hint of fluff...some Supernatural-y topics...angels, demons, prophets, etc.

Not caught up yet? Check out the landing page for this series.

Castiel had seemed to be worse off than Dean led her to believe. Although she couldn’t be sure, she had never seen the angel out of “juice”, as they had called it. He seemed tired and completely out of it.

“Did anyone follow you?” Sam asked, he seemed tired as well. Going back in time and seeing his family like that…it was something he probably wasn’t completely prepared for and it took more out of him than he realized.

“I don’t know,” she brought a hand to her head. She was frustrated with herself for not knowing how to answer him. “I don’t think so? I-I’m sorry, I should have paid closer attention…”

“You did good,” she felt Dean place his hand gently on her back. “It’s okay if you were followed, we’ll take care of it.” It didn’t escape her that Dean was sticking to the initial promise he made when they first had met–about taking care of the people that were important to them.

“So now the demons know about her?” Sam asked, to no one in particular. His eyes looked to Bobby, Cas, and Dean. They all seemed to look at each other. “What does that mean?”

“It means we have to keep her safe,” Dean spoke first before anyone could offer up any other potential solution. He seemed to pace a bit; his palm pulled down the front of his face, in a hasty attempt to wipe the exhaustion away.

“One thing’s for sure, you ain’t goin’ back to that office of yours,” Bobby wheeled through the living room. “That was a stupid decision on our part.”

“If demons have been made aware of your existence, then the angels know, too,” Castiel murmured from his spot in the living room. His eyes gazed off to the side with his brows stitched together–he was thinking about something. As he processed, thunder clashed in the distance. With the next flash of lightning through the window, you realized three men had suddenly appeared. 

“Hello, boys,” the oldest man in the middle wore a wide grin as he stood there in a charcoal colored suit. Before she knew what was happening, Dean moved to stand in front of her–Sam not far behind.

Castiel tried to straighten himself.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. She noticed the way his upper back muscles twitched as he stood in front of her. 

“Now, now, Dean,” the man scolded him as his eyes tried to move to the woman tucked carefully behind him. “We’d like to meet the girl.”

“Not gonna happen, Chuckles,” she noticed how Dean’s voice had deepened, matching the stance he stood protectively. 

“Zachariah…” Castiel started, almost nervously. 

“Castiel,” he acknowledged their angel friend. “I’m not surprised you’ve been helping hide the new prophet.” He took a step slowly as he tried to catch a glimpse, but Dean was ready to match his pace. He took a step for each step that Zachariah took to keep her behind him.

“What do you want with a prophet, anyway?” Sam asked. He didn’t care so much for the answer, he was more interested in keeping Zachariah and his two angel security guards distracted as much as possible. 

“Prophets are meant to be protected,” Zachariah began as he glanced back at Sam only for a moment. “Hanging out in the back pocket of the Winchesters isn’t a place for a prophet. She will be kept safe in Heaven.” He turned to look back at Dean and the woman standing behind him. “Trust me, girl. The Winchesters are dangerous. Anyone who gets even a little bit close to them ends up dead.” Tears stung at her eyes and blurred her vision slightly as she took in the words Heaven and dead. 

“I think we’ll take our chances,” Dean said matter-of-factly. She wondered if he meant that; could he possibly mean they would take their chance on her death? 

Off to the side, she noticed something–something was off with Bobby. He kept tracing his eyes back to Dean and moving his hand. It was subtle; she really had to watch closely as he moved.

“See, Dean. This is the issue with you,” Zachariah started in, his feet moved closer to Dean. The two body guards behind him followed closely behind. “You don’t care about the victims. You’ll do whatever you possibly can to re-write the word of God. You aren’t a hero, Dean! People around you. End. Up. Dead,” he enunciated every word, adding pause between them. 

Dean’s hand inched slowly behind him, his fingers found the denim of her jeans on the side of her thigh. He placed his palm flat against her side. She tried not to react, but even in the midst of everything happening in front of her, she felt butterflies flutter in her stomach–hell, they may have even done a somersault. 

“It’s better than whatever it is you’ve got planned for her,” he said firmly.

“And how would you know that?” Zachariah cocked his head, the wide grin still stretched across his face. 

Dean took a moment to glance to the side. With a small nod from Bobby, he very quickly spun towards the new prophet and wrapped his arms around her while he yelled, “Close your eyes!” With one hand on the small of her back, the other pulled her head to his shoulder. She did as he said and squeezed her eyes shut. She could hear a loud frequency sound as the angels in the room yelled–it trailed out quickly as a bright white light surrounded them. Even through closed eyes, she could feel it.

In a moment, it was over.

“You alright,” Dean’s hand pulled gently on her head to look over her features. He found the tears in her eyes and his jaw tightened. 

“I’m okay,” her voice was soft and to her ears, it sounded like she was far away–maybe even underwater. “I’m alright.” She repeated, more for her own sake than his.

Dean looked back to Bobby and Sam. The three uninvited angels were gone, but so was Castiel. “Good. Everybody else?” He eyed his brother and the older man in the wheelchair. 

“Yeah,” Sam breathed first. “Good thinking, Bobby.” He nodded towards him.

“I get a good idea e’ry once in a while,” he grumbled as he took a handkerchief and wrapped his hand where she noticed there was a gash. On the wall just next to Bobby’s wheelchair, she noticed a sigil of some kind that had been drawn on in blood. “It helps that the angels are gettin’ dumber. I thought for sure they’d have spotted me.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just be glad that didn’t happen,” Dean turned back to her again. He knew she was overwhelmed–this would be a lot for anyone. His hands reached out to hold just below her shoulders as he examined her face once more. 

“...Cas?” She managed to breathe as she looked between his eyes.

“He’ll be back eventually,” Dean explained. “It was an Enochian sigil…it’s a long story, but cliff notes: it gets rid of all angels in the room.” She managed a quick nod. “But in the meantime, we gotta lock this place down.”

“What happens when they come back?” Her voice was a little bit stronger as she tried to process. “And they…they want me dead? If I go to Heaven, I’m dead, right?” The lump of emotion bubbled back up her throat once more. Her eyes danced between Dean’s, looking for an answer. 

“Look, this is a lot,” he breathed. “We gotta hope Cas gets back here before they do. But if he doesn’t, we’ll be ready. Ain’t nobody dying tonight..”

A look of realization fell over Sam as his eyes widened. “Dean…” he trailed off as he hurried across the room to a military green duffle bag. He unzips the zipper and begins to dig before he retrieves a shiny blade with an intricate handle. He looks back to Dean and holds it up. 

“Oh, thank you, Cas,” Dean released a breath of air he had been holding in. 

“What’s that?” She looked between the brothers. 

“An angel blade,” Sam explained as he held it in front of him. “Cas put it in my bag before he zapped us back to 1978. I thought it had gotten lost, but I guess not.” He muttered as he eyed the silver. Taken back from his thoughts, he looked back at her. “It’ll kill an angel.” His jaw tightened. 

She felt her legs stumble a bit as she moved back towards the couch and let herself sit down. Her eyes tried to focus on anything around her. 

“Take a breath, girl,” Bobby’s eyes watched her, as if he knew all of the thoughts that tumbled through her brain at that moment. She rested her elbows on her knees and placed her head in her hands, her face angled towards the floor.

She didn’t have to guess this time when she felt a hand on her back–she already knew it was Dean. “I mean it, no one is dying here,” he tilted his head so her gaze found him as she looked up. She nodded, but wasn’t still entirely sold on the words that came out of his mouth. “Let’s get to work. Sigils gotta get put up.”

—-------

Hours had passed. She wasn’t allowed out of their sight, which made things interesting when she had to use the bathroom. Dean and Sam finally settled on her leaving the door cracked, but they stood just three strides beyond the bathroom door–just in case.

When she heard Dean’s cell phone ring, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Yeah?” Dean answered quickly. The boys had told her that Castiel’s wings would be temporarily clipped after the Enochian sigil was used. It would take him sometime to get his powers back, especially since he was already running low on “angel juice” from their adventure to the 70s and back just a few hours before. “Cas, where are you?” He paused as he listened to the other end. “You’re about four hours out, can you get on a bus? Or steal a car? Or something?”

The idea of stealing a car didn’t sit well with her, but she also realized their options were limited and they had to do what they had to do. She realized pretty quickly her moral compass was going to break, if it hadn’t broken already.

“Alright, well, just get here,” Dean rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. “We’ll be here.” He hung up just after that. “He’s going to get on a bus…it’ll be a while.” Dean glanced around the room. 

“How long does it take for his powers to come back?” She asked carefully. 

“We don’t really know,” Sam answered. 

“We just gotta hope Chuckles and his circus monkeys don’t get theirs back first,” Dean walked to Bobby’s kitchen and opened the refrigerator. 

That didn’t sound promising to her, but honestly at this point she felt like the fact she was still breathing was a miracle in itself. 

Dean walked back into the living room as he popped the top of a beer bottle off with the fabric of his plaid button down. “You need to get some sleep,” he nodded towards her before he took a swig. 

Her mouth felt dry, but she fought back anyway. “So do you…”

For the first time since they had been back, she saw a smile tug at the corners of Dean’s lips. “You’re not wrong. But you go first. I’ll take first shift.” She noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. 

“I got a bed set-up upstairs, I figured you might need a place for a little while with everything going on,” Bobby chimed in from the corner of the room. 

“I’ll walk you up,” Dean cleared his throat and walked towards the stairs. There was nothing else to do but nod. Before she walked too far, she turned back to Bobby and Sam.

“Thank you…for, uh, for saving me,” she made sure to look both in the eyes before she dipped her head a bit. They both nodded in her direction with what looked like sympathetic smiles–she wondered if they pitied her. She tucked a strand of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear and turned back to the stairs to follow Dean up to the guest room.

Dean opened the door to a dark room–it wasn’t much, but it was kind of Bobby to get something put together for her. She wondered if Sam and Dean had helped, since Bobby wasn’t necessarily able to from the confines of his wheelchair. There was a full-sized bed, a small nightstand with a lamp and a small dresser. It was small, but it was quaint. It helped to know she was being looked after, even if Zachariah’s words were still ringing in her ears.

“You need anything?” Dean asked quietly as he watched her walk through the doorway and examine the room he and Sam had very quickly put together before heading back in time. 

Her head shook gently from side to side as she turned to look back at him. “I’m okay, thanks Dean.” 

He nodded, but his eyes said otherwise–he didn’t believe her for a second but he hesitated on calling her out on it. “You sure? Because like I said, this is a lot for anyone. It’s okay if you’re not,” he started. “Not okay, that is…” 

He watched as her body almost trembled for a moment. She folded her arms at her elbows and crossed them across her chest. She tried to keep the dam up–but once his words were in the air, all bets were off. The dam collapsed in on her, with everything rushing out: fear, uncertainty, confusion, overwhelming amounts of information…her knees buckled as a painful sob escaped from the confines of her throat.

Dean moved in just two quick steps as his hands gripped her just above her elbows so she couldn’t fall. In one swift moment, he pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her carefully.

She noticed he didn’t try to shush her or tell her not to cry. He didn’t say anything at all for a few moments as he allowed her to get it out. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, she felt like she had to hold on for her life as she processed. 

“I can’t make a promise that everything’ll be alright,” his voice was low, but it sent a wave of calm over her—even if the message wasn’t as calming… “But I can promise that Sam and I will do everything in our power to keep you safe.”

Her breathing began to stabilize, and she felt the sobs subside a bit. Her cheeks were stained with her angry tears’ paths as she pulled back to look into his eyes. 

“I’m just…I’m trying to wrap my head around all of this, Dean,” she mumbled through a few breaths as she tried to calm herself. 

He ducked his head, his gaze left her for just a moment. “I know,” but then his eyes were back and looking at her once more. “I’m proud of you. Not many people can be thrown into this life and go through the motions of it all. Shit hits the fan in our world…a lot. But we find a way through it together. And you’re a part of that now.” She focused on the way his eyes bore into hers. Dean just wanted to make sure she was alright, and she could feel that sentiment. For Dean, he was beginning to feel the same bubbling in the pit of his stomach that she had been feeling. If he was honest with himself, he’d know he had felt that from their first meeting. But he wasn’t willing to act on it. This girl had been through hell over the last few days, the last thing he wanted to do was complicate that even more. 

But she didn’t quite see it as complicating things. Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip carefully as her eyes tried to decipher how he was feeling. “Stay?” Was the only word she could muster. 

His jaw tightened for a moment and she thought she saw a flash of want in his gaze. Her name fell from his lips in a soft whisper. 

“Dean, I just…I just don’t want to be alone,” her finger tips trailed to the rough stubble on his jaw. His muscles seemed to relax under her touch. 

“Okay,” he nodded once as he sensed the emotional turmoil she had experienced rumble in her voice. 

Without allowing another moment to pass, she reached up on the tips of her toes and closed her eyes before she gently pressed her lips to his. As she pulled back, his eyes opened and he studied her for a moment. 

Without another word exchanged, Dean followed her to the bed, her hand still held against his own. It stayed that way while he sat with her as she fell asleep.

-------------

Tags: @roseblue373 @nelachu2423 @deans-spinster-witch @lyarr24 @jackles010378 @stillhere197 @procrastination20

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural ff #spn fanfic #spn ff #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fan fic

[lavender-z-love]

Angel

Mark Lee X Black.FemReader

Genre: Aftercare/Morning after, Valentine's Day, Idol Boyfriend AU.

Warnings: Suggestive, Mature, Sex, Potential Spelling Errors.

A/n: Alright, Here is the cute and flirty aftercare, I know I posted this before the Seggs part. Yeah sorry, I want it to be spicy 🤧 Anyway enjoy! I also Use Mark's Korean name 'Minhyung' and shorten it to 'Min' so no confusion.

Wordcount: 800

Part One: Baby Dont Like it

Part Two: Highway to Heaven

Part Three: Here

Light giggles heard into the wee hours of the morning. Your legs around your Valentine's waist, straddling him. You looked down at him from above. Holding his hands down at his side. The both of you, naked and fresh out of the shower.

Tiredness washing over him,"I take it..I did a well?" Mark asked looking up at you. Seeing you in nothing but his T-shirt was something he'd never imagine would come true.

"Mark, Kitten– you did an amazing job."

Your boyfriend, sliding his warm hands along your thighs. His thumbs gently rubbing your skin in tiny cirles. "I know you already answered me the first time...but are you sure you're okay Y/n?"

A smile spreading across your face as you leaned down. Your hands cupping Marks cute face a such, topping it off with a little kiss to his nose. "I'm alright Mark. I promise."

"Good, I just wanted to make sure." You're boyfriend smiles sitting up straight with you still straddling him. His hands slowly creeping up from your thigh, under your shirt and to your waist. The sudden and swift feeling of Mark's hot hands sending shivers up your spine.

"I like this..", Mark says looking up at you.

Your hands resting on your boyfriend's shoulders. "Like what?" Tugging on the shirt you're wearing, messing with you a little. "You in nothing but my shirt", he admits.

"Ooh, I see. What about when I take It off?"

Mark wrinkles his nose, "There should be no suprise on how I feel about seeing you naked. You felt it all night, didn't you?"

You smiled, recalling the events, then about how hard you'd been clinging to your boyfriend.

"Speaking of which– I'm err..Sorry about those scratches Kitten", you apologize.

Mark laughes paying them no mind. Looking at the now inflamed scratchs on his biceps, feeling the burning sensation from the ones on his back.

"Oh please, I like them. They're like my little trophy scars."

"They don't hurt?"

"No, just burn a little–", he pauses, lowering his voice just a little. "It's nothing to worry about, I should get used to it."

"Huh? Why? How come?"

"Well..I do plan on getting more. A collection of these beautiful scars hm? What do you think Y/n?"

Suddenly, being lifted and put on your back. Mark now on top of you, catching you by surprise. You attempt to hide your face with your hand but fail because of Mark locking fingers with yours.

That coy smile as he looked down at your restricted form. "You're incredibly shy whenever I do something you seem to really love, hm?" Your breath hitched, heart racing, now your eyes avoiding his contact; this boyfriend of yours was catching on to your little habits.

"M-Min, you're...I-"

Interupted by a kiss of his, embraced by his plump cushions. Almost like silk, so smooth, your heart began to melt all over again. Mark pulls away, his hands release yours; his thumb now grazing your bottom lip.

"It's okay to be shy Y/n. Besides, I know what you like now, so I can help you get un-shy."

You push up at Mark's chest, shocked by the sudden confession. "You pervert", you said flustered. Meanwhile, Mark chuckles finding your little conversation amusing.

"Oh? I wasn't a pervert an hour ago–" Your boyfriend said, kissing your jawline. Flushed face and hiding your face in your hands. "Okay, Okay. I'll stop Y/n." Mark said, plopping to the side of you.

Naturally, you get close to him. "Good kitten...otherwise I'd have to punish you."

"Not Against it", He remarks. Mark's arms weave around you, his hand now softly rubbing your lower back. "Of course you aren't", you say jokingly rolling your eyes.

His fingers gently tracing lines and patterns as he looked down at you. "By the way, Y/n? Are you free tomorrow or..later today?" Mark asks.

You yawn as you answered,"Of course, what did you have in mind?"

Mark chuckles at your little yawn, smiling wryly afterwards. "Eh..well, I'll let you in on the full details tomorrow, okay? Lets get you some sleep beautiful."

"That sounds delightful." You said with a smiled. Mark slings his arm around you, pulling you close. There was no need for covers, seemed like Mark was warmer. Though, you didn't complain, you loved it.

"I love you Minhyung."

Sweet lips place a kiss upon you forehead then your nose, then with his thumb underneath your chin, your lips. A cute, meaningful peck..

"And I Love you Y/n— More than you know."

Written June 5th 2023

#mark lee x y/n #mark lee x you #mark lee x reader #mark lee x black reader #mark lee fanfic #mark lee smut #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee ff #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream x y/n #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fake texts #nct dream fanfic #nct u x y/n #nct u x black reader #nct u x reader #nct u imagines #nct u smut #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 smut #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 x black reader #nct 127 x y/n #nct 127 x you

[bealikethebug]

Bea's SpideyPool Fic Recs

I read so much Spideypool fan fiction and I thought I'd share some of my favorites! Most of the summaries included are my own because I wanted to share what I really loved about them/why I recommend them

Thank you so much to the authors for sharing these and for all their hardwork<3

Belle of the Bar

by DerRumtreiber

E | 34,092 Words

My summary:

Peter is just an average college student and gets a job at a strip club run by Wade and Weasel but he also has to balance practice for ping-pong because he is on a sports scholarship. Wade is so into him and very soon things get spicy

The premise of this fic is so silly (and i mean that in the best way possible) and it is such a fun read. Great characterization and lots of laughs. 

Finite State

by Scarlet_Ribbons

E | 34,240 Words

My summary:

Peter is blackmailed into taking a break from being Spider-Man by one of his co-workers who is threatening to leak his identity. Deadpool is worried by Spider-mans sudden disappearance and recruits Peter(who he doesn’t know is actually Spider-Man) to help him. 

I can not recommend this fic enough! It is my all time favorite and such a comfort fic, it just has all the elements I love. Perfect balance of angst, humor, and a great plot. 

The 6 Times Peter Wanted To Reveal his Identity (And the 1 Time He Did) 

by Spongeekat

M | 28,436 Words

My summary:

Wade doesn’t know that Peter is actually Spider-Man and because of a series of events just thinks he’s a very depressed guy in need of some help. Peter has a huge crush on Wade and struggles with getting the courage to reveal is identity and confess his feelings.

I love the 5 + 1(or in this case 6 + 1) format and I think this was a very unique spin on it. I’m always a sucker for some hurt/comfort. 

we're on a highway to hell (with a little bit of heaven)

by dabblingwithwords

E | 107,557

My summary:

Deadpool saves Peter from a Hydra facility that had been using him as a test subject for three years. Peter has to deal with his PTSD and a symbiote as they travel together and fall in love.

Love this one so much. Very well written and tackles some really heavy topics in such a good wau. It still had all the things I like about Spideypool but the characterization felt really fresh and different.  

Hands

By schierlingsbecher

E | 25,539 Words

Summary:

“After going through a lot of shitty fights and missions together, Spider-Man reveals the face and name under the mask to Deadpool. Wade is stunned.”

For this one I put the authors summary because it’s been a while since I read this I don’t remember a whole lot of the plot(time for a reread) but I am 100% sure I loved it. I remember it being super sweet and having lots of hurt comfort.

#spideypool #ao3 #fanfic #fic rec #spideypool fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 recs

[yoongsisbae]

V is for Villain 2/3

What does it mean to be a villain? What does it really mean to be a vigilante? A vanquisher of evil or a victor for the good? Stories praise the fall of devils, cheer at the marvels of the virtuous, and forget the victorious tell a version conveniently veiling their own atrocities. Evilness was once the brightest star in heaven. And goodness, well, morality can so often be contentious. This time, there is the hero with the strength of a hundred men, there is the villain that can vanish his vulnerabilities in a very instant, and then there’s you.

PART 1 HERE. Superhero/Super Villain AU. Taehyung x y/n x Namjoon love triangle (or rhombus if you wanna count Yoongi :P) Continuation to Your Friendly Neighborhood Superhero, RM.

Warnings: love-hate relationship, soft yandere tae, smut, dubcon, exhibitionism, oral, shower sex, rough sex, police brutality, attempted SA, violence, unhinged y/n

Word Count: 17.8k

---

You look down at the ground quickly approaching. Namjoon isn’t going to reach you. You smile, just knowing he tried was enough.

Namjoon screams your name. He will always be your hero no matter what.

You look up in his direction again and hold out your hand, manipulating the air in an attempt to slow him down, all the times he produced craters when trying for a soft landing replaying in your mind, but the super powered hero is flying too quickly, cutting right through your efforts, desperate to get to you.

You shut your eyes.

This is going to hurt. 

Jungkook side swipes you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you disappear right before Namjoon’s eyes.

How many craters has it been? Add one more to the tally.

---

You catch your breath, finally sitting up. “Is V not coming?” Jungkook hopped you immediately to Yoongi and Jin, the four of you all falling to the ground like bowling pins at the impact. Jungkook has a knack for strikes.

“He needs an alibi, he is going to be answering questions with the press.”

You huff, Taehyung should be here too, it’s his damn narrative. “Ready?” Yoongi asks the group, his eyes narrowing in on you.

Yoongi reveals his cell, showing off a map with a dozen large dots moving through the streets. “I don’t know if I can take anymore of this,” Jungkook whines wearily.

“You know, all this ended up being perfect practice for hopping into a moving location, yeah?” All three men glare at you. “Err no?”

Jungkook psyches himself up, jumping up and down. “Argh okay!”

“After that, a speeding vehicle can’t be that hard. Just don’t hop us inside of anyone,” Jin teases, grabbing onto the teleporter.

“WHAT. That’s a thing?! He’s done that?” you ask, horrified, pulling your hand back, unwilling to grab onto Jungkook.

“No!” Jungkook yells. “Okay, well, it wasn’t a person. I-I was a kid. Dammit, why did you have to remind me, Jin!”

You gag. A doe-eyed young Jungkook covered from head-to-toe in animal carcass like some tiny serial killer was not something you wanted to imagine at all. Jin laughs at you.

“Jungkook, c’mon, me and y/n got you,” Yoongi reassures as Jungkook concentrates on the map, anxiety and strain clearly present on his features.

“Me too!” Jin says. You grab Jin’s hand and place your other hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Yeah bunny, let’s hop, we got you,” you repeat, winking as you and Yoongi send energy into your teleporting friend.

Jungkook focuses, imagines the streets, the cars, the very exact target rolling down the highway, passing an intersection. With Jin’s help and his powers tapping into the target’s mind, and Jungkook’s overactive imagination, Jungkook can visualize everything so perfectly. It takes only a few seconds to really see…feel the differences between here and there, now and then.

So much in the world to see yet Jungkook can’t be in two places at a time, however two places at a moment's notice? That, he is excellent at!

There’s so much energy whirling around your group, Jungkook vanishes you all in a crackle of electricity.

‘What have you gotten yourself into, y/n.’ Namjoon thinks, zooming to your location.

He found you just in time to see you vanish. And then, like a lightning bolt himself, RM flies into the sky.

---

“Ahh!”

You couldn’t blame their frightful fits, four hooded figures appearing out of thin air like a demon quartet inside the politician’s special armored vehicle would make even the most hardened armed guards yell out of surprise. 

“Pull over!” he yells to his driver.

“I c-can’t!” his driver yells back, desperately pulling on the steering wheel that’s locked into position, stomping on brakes that have no more give. Yoongi smirks, in the passenger’s seat. He runs his fingers over the car’s dash, revving the engine. “The car is not going to listen to you.”

Guns are drawn, but the triggers have already been locked by you.

Click.

Click Click Click.

This is the most uncomfortable ride of your life sans murder attempt, you’re squished in between Jungkook and Jin, practically in their laps. “I’m just gonna-” you wiggle your fingers in front of you and everyone’s weapons land in the laps of the men beside you, who each grab their favorite and put the safety switches back off, smirking.

His secretary tries to dial the emergency number on her cell but thanks to Yoongi, the cell tower has decided not to respond. You freeze everyone’s limbs in the caravan, making things easier.

“I heard rumors of this city, but I can’t believe it's real,” the mayor stutters, body locked and his eyes bulging.

“Rumors, what kind?” you ask, intrigued. 

“Super…villains.”

“Eh?!”

“Get it done,” Yoongi grunts, watching the other dots on his cell move throughout the city.

“Hello Mayor,” Jin speaks. “I’m glad I could catch an audience with you before you left our beautiful city. Seeing as we both share an invested interest in our neighboring habitats, as you demonstrated at today’s rally,” he says, landing a hand on his shoulder and the politician’s eyes glaze over, “this will only take a moment.”

Everyone else stares at your group like the undead, it creeps you out. so you shut their eyes, pulling off your hood. “This thing is itchy, I hate it.”

“We should wear eye masks instead,” Jungkook suggests.

“No masks!” You and Yoongi speak in unison.

“All good!” Jin says cheerfully as he removes his hand.

“He’s pissing himself.” Jungkook complains.

“Ew!” you groan, the smell of pee filling the confined space.

“They do that most of the time, don’t they?” Yoongi grimaces.

“These guys are so old it's amazing they have any control of their bladders,” Seokjin huffs.

“Can’t you, like, stop it,” Jungkook whines at you.

“Ew! No way!” you retort back. “What did you do to him?” you ask, the politician’s eyes still look unfocused and scared, shell-shocked.

“Just had a nice long chat,” Jin says, which didn’t make any sense to you, barely a minute had passed, but you guess it was another one of Jin’s mind games he likes to play. “We worked out a great deal! Right?” Jin warns. The petrified man in front of you can’t really move without your permission, but he squeaks out a small sound of agreement.

“Like I explained, we don’t want to hurt you. We just want your support,” he says, patting the politician’s knee. “But we can hurt you.”

You tighten his tie with your powers, constricting the politician's throat with his own party colors.

“And find you, wherever you go.” Jin’s voice drops to a lower register and it has a terrifying effect.

Terrifying and sexy, you think. The mind reader rarely acts this serious. It’s a hot look on him. You truly hope Jin is too busy to pay attention to your next thoughts. Jin leans back and puts his arm over your shoulder, dashing your hopes.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks, turning around to peer at Yoongi’s map once more.

The car stops abruptly. So abruptly everyone is thrown forward and backward, but you have the forethought to catch your bodies before any damage happens. 

You turn around, ready to yell at Yoongi for the abrupt stop and see dark brown eyes, a determined scowl, and RM standing with his hands on the front hood.

“I know we can count on your support,” Jin warns.

“How the hell did he find us?”

“Your damn earrings!” Yoongi yells.

 “Don’t blame me!” you pout. “You said you took out the trackers!”

“I did! So why is there one in there?!” Yoongi yells back, realizing the new devices installed.

“Maybe RM put them back in during one of your little sleep overs,” Seokjin whispers in your ear. 

“Your what?”

“J-Jungkook now!” you yell.

In a coordinated effort you all reach for one another, hands interlocking and disappearing right as RM crashes his fist into the windshield.

The chase is on.

Roads are backed up, city traffic is worse than usual while everyone tries to leave the arena, and driving a couple blocks is taking five times longer than usual.

But RM can fly.

And JK can move through space and time.

It takes mere minutes between targets. Though, the time you experience dreading RM causing another commotion while waiting on Jin really feels like an eternity.

-

Ugh, you wish Namjoon didn’t have to wreck every car he managed to track you guys to. He’s really blowing the whole point of this plot, discreetness has gone out the window, or rather his fist is going through the window, and the convoy of police vehicles already surrounding the rather important politician is realizing the enemy had already snuck inside their barrier, turning their sights and guns to the scene.

What will the media say this time? No one was supposed to see you guys or know what you were up to! That was the whole point of this crazy plan, but with RM plans rarely go smoothly. At least part of your plans are succeeding, you think, as the man in front of you agrees over and over again he will be cooperative to Jin.

You pull your hood down lower, concealing your eyes.

“This is the last one, isn’t it? Still need me?” you whisper to Jungkook.

“Uhh yeah, you’re kind of crucial to us not being killed,” Jungkook whispers back.

“You have the guns, though,” you retort.

On cue RM pulls the car door off its hinges, grabbing the closest hooded figure out of the car.

Unfortunately, it’s Jungkook, and the teleporter hops out of his clothes, a new trick he’s learned after dealing with RM.

A very bare chested Jungkook appears right back where he was, hair disheveled and only a mask covering his mouth and identity now. Thank god for Yoongi no cameras are able to catch any identifying tattoos, and you are surprised to see the young teleporter has a lot.

You all reach for him in unison, hands landing on his skin. You and Jin have the same idea, both grabbing a handful of pec...and squeezing.

But RM is not to be underestimated! He wanted to stop you all, but more than that, he wanted to catch you...red-handed.

A small little device was all it took. Namjoon; who has studied up and read every book he could find on electricity, using his intellect instead of his power to try to defeat you this time, with his newfound alone time he started to make devices that might finally help him counter-attack your friends’ infuriating powers; he sets off one of those devices right inside the vehicle.

Jungkook is stunned, quite literally unable to move through the currents shocking his system.

Yoongi is overwhelmed, and by the time it is going to take him to figure out a translation to the new handmade device, with every shockwave he is experiencing, it might be too late!

You, however, could see a solution even if every shock clouded your vision. 

You can’t speak, you can barely move, the stunning was impressively strong. You might have been shocked into a stupor, but in your mind, communication with Jin was perfect.

‘Jungkook!’

‘Hey…JUNGKOOK.’

At a time like this Jungkook didn’t know whether he should be grateful or cursing the fact that all he could think about was Jin’s voice instead of his friends and family and everyone he was about to let down getting so publicly arrested. 

‘Jungkookie, hop us!’

‘DO YOU THINK I WASN’T TRYING?!’ Jungkook thinks back. But due to the untouchable electricity Jungkook couldn’t concentrate on even hopping himself, much less everyone else.

‘No, hop everything! Hop the entire damn car!’

THE CAR THAT WAS CURRENTLY FUCKING UP HIS POWERS? Jin wants Jungkook to bring it along for the ride, err well make it the ride? Hasn’t Jungkook done enough?! The teleporter’s inner monologue rivals the self-pity of a Greek Tragedy hero.

There is a pretty blue glow all around him, the electricity taking on a familiar trait.

Yoongi’s.

Jungkook can hear strained cries coming from you. The shocks multiplying to a painfully strong degree as the device is supercharged.

Actually it doesn't really hurt, it kind of feels like a massage, all the energy is making Jungkook feel good...powerful.

-

“SHIT!” Hoseok yells.

Jimin cries out, falling off his chair.

The device in the car goes haywire for a second, before completely dudding out.

You all topple out of the vehicle, reorienting yourselves with the help of Hoseok and Jimin. You grab Jungkook, stumbling with him to the rear of the caravan.

“You h-have to take it back. The caravan!”

“I can’t,” Jungkook groans, feeling sick.

You lean against his back, hugging him tightly, exhausted from using your powers to such magnitudes, and even still doing so to keep the targets frozen. “You have to,” you squeeze Jungkook, healing and powering up the teleporter one last time-

-

Namjoon blinks. ‘It’s invisible? Did V- No, it’s gone.’

Oh, now it’s back.

He circles the vehicle, finding you and Jungkook sprawled on the ground.

You’re lying face down, passed out over the teleporter, who shifts and tries to kick his feet away from the advancing and furious superhero. Red lasers land on Jungkook’s bare chest-

The tires deflate, hit by the bullets that would have gone through you and Jungkook if the teleporter hadn’t disappeared at that exact moment-

Namjoon stands frozen. ‘S-She’s not dead, Jungkook teleported before she could have gotten hit,’ he thinks.

You’re not dead...you’re not dead...you wouldn’t dare...

He recollects himself, focusing back on the caravan as police descend around him. He looks inside the vehicle, where a group of scared personnel and one positively petrified politician sit...and no one else. “Are you okay?! Tell me what they did to you, I can try and help-”

“Nothing! N-Nothing, they didn’t do anything,” he swallows.

The neighboring city’s mayor stumbles out of the car, screeching at his confused security. “Goddammit, what do I pay you all for?!” Namjoon watches him berate everyone, trying to gain the power he had momentarily been stripped of.

“I can help you,” Namjoon says slow and reassuringly as if her were talking to a temper tantrum-ing child. “If you explain what happened, I can stop them.” Namjoon was frustratingly hitting dead ends as no politician would let him in on what your group was doing, and if there was no crime to report...

“Mayor! Please listen-”

“I-If you’re gonna stop them, then s-stop them! Otherwise leave m-me out of it!”

Namjoon clenches his jaw, eyeing one security guard who looks like he’s on the verge of quitting...

---

“Today is the worst day of my life.”

“What about that time you teleported your hand through a fence and we had to take you to the hospital?”

“Or the time you teleported to that volcano?”

“It was inactive,” Hoseok reminds Jimin.

“Excuse me, the worst day of your life? Did you get shot?” you grunt. Jungkook holds up his arm angrily. “That’s just a graze.”

“Yours is just a graze.”

“Mine is deeper,” you pull Hoseok’s hand away, and blood gushes out from the cut across your hip. “Ow ow ow! See!”

“Can’t you heal it?” Hoseok asks, holding the compress to your side.

“God, I have to do everything around here!” you whine. “I’m tired!” You would still be passed out if you hadn’t woken up from the excruciating pain.

“Should we take them to a doctor?” Yoongi asks Jin.

“Ehh they seem to be okay?” The two oldest watch as the others dote on you and Jungkook, the both of you making convincing arguments as to why you need to be carried in Hoseok’s arms to the couch and why Jungkook needs Jimin to hand-feed him food.

---

You stretch, waking up from your nap, delicately removing yourself from Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s embrace, and finding the teleporter eating his third bowl of ramen. “Jungkook, hop me to RM!” 

“What? Are you crazy? That last time he looked ready to kill me!”

“I will actually kill you if you d-”

“Y/n, I need to debrief with you,” Taehyung calls out to you, entering the quarters. 

Oh there he is, so untraumatized from the whole day’s ordeal, you can’t help but glare at him. “Can’t Jin-”

“No,” Taehyung says sternly, “You, y/n.”

You cross your arms, deciding in which direction you should hurl Taehyung away from you. He crosses his arms too, standing tall, stepping into your space. 

“Alright,” you huff, rolling your eyes. He’s lucky you find the authoritative look so hot. You glance at the mind reader, he better not be listening to you. You bump Taehyung’s shoulder as you head for his room, not wanting to wake the others.

-

“What I don’t understand is how RM found you all so fast?” he asks rhetorically, leaning against his work desk after you explained everything (well, clearly not everything), the two of you alone in his old small office quarters. You stay quiet. “What did I say about wearing those earrings on missions-”

“‘Y/n, don’t wear those earrings on missions,’” you lower your voice as low as you can, mimicking Taehyung’s deep timber.

Taehyung’s eyebrow twitches. You cross your arms. “I didn’t know! If you’re going to blame someone, blame Yoongi! Tech is his specialty, is it not?”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you and Jungkook almost died, because of RM. I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if Jungkook had waited only a second longer-”

You wanted to argue with him, tell him people almost die all the time. That technically it wasn’t RM’s fault, it was Taehyung’s fault for making you all do this in the first place, and that Taehyung has no right to look at you with those accusing eyes of his, just because you weren’t going to stop wearing the present Namjoon gave you. How were you supposed to know he was going to put the trackers back in while you were sleeping, it was kind of impressive actually-

“Everything could have been ruined-”

“You have the support,” you argue. “What more do you want?”

Taehyung runs a hand through his hair, glancing over at you...you, he wants to say. But the way his eyes refuse to look away says enough, making you feel guilty. You decide to change the subject.

“They are catching on though...” you murmur, moving closer to him. “About our powers. We all have to be even more careful.”

“Let them talk, they should feel a little fear. It’s all rumors still. Nothing will hit the news circuit, I will make sure of it.”

“And what if it does come back to you, dear Mayor,” you cross your arms, spitting out the title. “Isn’t that what you have been trying to avoid, by making us do all the dirty work?”

Taehyung smiles at you rather than matching your ire. He pulls off his tie and jacket, removing the stuffy formal clothes. “I appreciate that you help me...us...that you do this for us. Even if you are...compromised,” he says begrudgingly. “You kept my friends alive, and that means more to me...”

‘If he thinks touching your cheek like that and giving you those eyes is going to smooth things over, he’s wrong!’ you think, annoyed and flustered from the attention. You smack his hand away. “My money? You also owe me for fixing the floor...and the table,” you add, looking over at the newly cleaned hide out space after the “car crash” that happened inside.

“Done.” You turn to leave but Taehyung pulls you back. “Before you go running off into the night…” He stops, holding your attention, “...I wanted to show you something.”

He goes over to his desk, pulling out a file, and showing you a bunch of complicated diagrams, but you get the gist of it. Compared to all the other cities, recycling is up, pollution is down, renewable energy use is up, violent crime is down, it's all very impressive data for such a big industrial city. “I just wanted to remind you...why we had to do that...we are doing good-”

“I know that,” you frown, sighing. “I’m not the one you have to convince.” 

You don’t have to say his name, Taehyung already knows who you’re talking about. You won’t seem let it go...him go. You desperately want RM on your side.

Taehyung sighs. You sit in his leather chair, putting your feet up on his desk, looking through the figures again, humming. It does make you happy to see the city so drastically improving, Taehyung doesn't have to know that though (you threaten Seokjin just in case he’s listening).

“How are you and Yoongi?” You catch Taehyung looking at your legs.

“Me and Yoongi? I am great, Yoongi is great. Why don’t you ask Yoongi?” You stiffen. Actually, he seemed pretty upset at you...

Taehyung laughs, “Funny, he said basically the same thing.”

“Well, he’s my favorite for a reason,” you speak apathetically, worried Taehyung will try to use him against you like he does with everything else.

Taehyung smirks down at you knowingly. You cross your arms, wheeling your chair around “Is there anything else before I go, Mayor?”

Taehyung scoffs, leaning over you until you’re caged in, his hands pressing down on the chair’s armrests. He looks down at you, serious, no sly smile or hint of playfulness anymore.

“You really like throwing that in my face. You know, when The Mayor died, because of you by the way, we all decided I was going to run,” he gestures to the cracked door, where you can hear the others argue over...food? Again?! “Do you think I enjoy being in the limelight like this, every little thing I do being scrutinized for everyone to see?”

His face is too close to you, his eyes watch you like he’s peering through you…inside you. “I think you do, and so what? You’re good at it.” You compliment him to smooth down the tension. It's also true, Taehyung is ridiculously charismatic when he wants to be, and great at convincing people to do what he wants, he convinced you...and maybe you hold it against him, the way you always seem to help him get exactly what he wants. Especially when he says things like...

“I feel like you hate me now...” he laughs, unable to hide his sadness and making you feel guilty in the process. “Is it because I keep beating your superhero?”

You break eye contact first, scoffing, following the lines of his jaw down, the top two buttons of Taehyung’s shirt now undone, giving you a glimpse of his chest. By now you are used to everyone else being in your personal space, but not Taehyung. 

It feels...different when he gets so close to you. It feels forbidden. 

Maybe Joon’s disdain for V affects you more than you want to admit-

“I don’t hate you...” you swallow, leaning back as he gets closer. “I...I...just don’t like you.” You decide it’s easier to keep Taehyung at a distance, so you lie. You don’t trust him, or yourself, when you’re around him.

Taehyung stares at you in surprise. “You liar!” he laughs.

“Go ask Jin then!” you challenge, you know Jin is going to tell him you’re lying, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t made it confusing. Taehyung huffs, and then vanishes before your eyes. You barely caught a glimpse of the anger in his expression, now unsure whether you witnessed it at all. 

You try to stand up but Taehyung hasn't actually left, and you bump into him. “You want to know why I don’t like you?” you ask, pushing against his chest. “I know you have Yoongi keeping tabs on me, Jungkook watching me, even Jimin following me acting like a stray, like it’s a crime to want to leave, like I’m not allowed to be on my own. Taehyung…I am never ever going to stop wanting to see my friend!”

You feel Taehyung’s hot breath against the shell of your ear when he whispers, “I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt, y/n. Namjoon is going to hurt you. He always hurts you. It may not always be like today, where we can see it,” you can feel his hand nudge carefully against your healing scar, “but we can all tell you’re hurting...”

Somehow that last part stings worse than your injury. 

His invisibility powers makes Taehyung more confident, daring, adding, “I would never hurt you like that.”

“You say that now…but your powers can’t show the future,” you say quietly. “I-I just want to take my money and go-” 

“Go where, to Kim Namjoon?! Dammit y/n, you think he’s going to be happy to see you after today…” 

“Why are you being like this?!”

“Because I can’t stop! I can’t stop worrying about you…thinking about you…caring about you...” You feel something soft graze your jaw. 

You stay quiet, biting your tongue. You can’t see Taehyung, but it’s like you can feel him everywhere. The chair tilts as he moves himself against you, your arms and legs bumping into his body as you try to balance yourself. You’re not sure what you’re touching but it’s hard and muscled and warm and makes your breath hitch.

You knew Taehyung had grown a particular liking to you for your powers, and you also knew he was a big flirt, but sometimes his honeyed words would catch you off guard, make you wonder if the sweetness oozing from his lips was genuine, and you would have to catch yourself from wanting a taste.

“I’m okay, Taehyung,” you say under your breath, “You don’t have to worry.”

Taehyung appears right in front of you, startling you how close he really was to you, lips right next to yours. “No, ‘Mayor’? Looks like we’re making progress, y/n.” He smirks, his smirk quickly turning into a smile.

You scoff. “You are such a little brat. What do you really want from me, Kim Taehyung?”

“What I’ve always wanted,” he glances down at your lips. “Just you.” The back of his fingers run along your chin. “For once, don’t go to him and stay with me tonight?”

Namjoon liked to tell you how ruthless, how dangerous and evil Taehyung is. Part of you wanted to believe Namjoon…to actually hate Taehyung, it would make things so much easier if you could see what Namjoon sees. But you don’t. So what if he’s opportunistic and vengeful, or willing to do anything to win? Taehyung is a lot like you.

---

You finish showering, wiping the condensation off your mirror. Scalding water felt the best, and tonight, you needed the hot steam and soothing lavender soap to calm you down.

“Jimin! I forgot my towel!”

Jimin brings you a towel in his mouth, having shifted into a small brown dachshund. He shakes his tail happily at you. You know your roommate only stays with you so Taehyung can keep tabs on you, but Jimin is so damn cute when he transforms! You don’t even mind it! He barks twice before leaving, ugh, he’s adorable!

You went home after talking with Taehyung, deciding you wanted to have a night to yourself after all, feeling confused and worst of all, guilty for passing out at the most inconvenient time and almost getting the teleporter seriously injured.

You pull on a satin pair of pajamas, a lacy trimmed tank top and shorts, turning on your tea kettle to make Jimin and you some hot tea.

You sigh, looking down at dachshund Jimin, “Some watch dog you are,” you mutter, picking him up. He licks your face. “I don’t forgive you, traitor,” you accuse, before dropping him down again.

“I know you’re here, I can feel you,” you yell into your empty apartment. You close your eyes, it’s easier to concentrate that way. Was he by your couch, no, where did that sneak move to?

“What do you think? If I tear your body to pieces while you’re like this do they reanimate or will you just be invisible forever so they’ll never find you?” you threaten.

A loud knock at the door stops your thoughts and you whip your head around. You knew who it was, unfortunately. There was no mistaking the size and strength of the particular grouping of molecules that made up the superhero shaped figure stalking around your door. You definitely had to smooth things out with the tech talker so he could remove the earring tracker again.

Jimin growls behind your back, transformed into the largest Doberman you’ve ever seen. “Oh now you wanna guard me? Go to your room, Jimin!” you hiss.

“And don’t fucking move! Wherever you are!” You whisper at your uninvited guest.

Moving to the door, you open it up to a not so friendly face. Joon stands tall in a sweater and jeans, an annoyed glare behind thick frames.

You look him up and down stopping at his new glasses, “Break another pair?”

He stares at you blankly. Did he come all this way to give you the silent treatment?

You step into the hallway with him, shivering. If there wasn’t a certain moppy headed menace in your new apartment with a vendetta against your ex friend you would have pulled Namjoon in by now, but you couldn’t risk it.

“Were you- Are you okay?” he asks, getting his concerns out of the way.

“I was grazed by a bullet,” you smile meekly.

“What?” Namjoon falters, concern spreading over his features.

“Oh, it was bad,” you tease. “I’m lucky I’m alive.”

“Don’t joke-”

You laugh softly, feeling a little less unburdened over his anger at you. “Well I’m fine now, so don't worry,” you smile. “Did you hurt yourself when you landed?” you reach out to touch his shoulder.

Namjoon grabs your hand before you can touch him, back to business. “I need you to come with me-”

“Are you asking me out?” you joke.

“I need you to come with me and tell every one of those people you hurt that when they go to vote next session, they can vote freely without any fear something will happen to them or their families-”

“We wouldn’t hurt their families...”

“Y/n!”

“If you want me to go with you, I will, but it won’t change their minds,” you argue. “You know it too. Just let this one go, Joon, we beat you this time.”

‘We,’ the way you say it breaks Joon. He shakes his head no, holding your wrist tighter.

The tea kettle starts to whistle. “Did you want some tea?”

“Seriously? You can act like nothing happened, after what they did, what you did to-”

You sigh defeatedly, massaging your brow to stop the forming headache. Why does Taehyung always have to be right, it can be so damn infuriating…

“But you don’t mind when I’m helping you, when you’re using me to undermine The Mayor? Suddenly, it’s okay to be around someone you find so despicable, right?!” you yell, your anger getting the best of you. 

Namjoon touches your cheek, turning you to meet his eyes again, letting all the words he wants to say sit on his tongue. 

‘I don't think that,’ ‘Do you know how worried I was about you?’ ‘I was losing my mind,’  ‘Please, just stop what you're doing, I will forgive you if you just! stop!’ “Y/n...” 

Namjoon grabs your arms, pushing you back inside your apartment. “I know he’s in here with you.” 

Well, he was, but not for any weird reason Namjoon was currently processing through right now. “I saw the kettle move. V!”

You look over your shoulder at the silenced kettle. Idiot. But you knew Taehyung was no idiot. You knew he did it on purpose, and that pissed you off even more.

“No-” Namjoon presses, pushing past you. You move in front to stop him, using more than your physical strength to match his own. “It w-was Jimin!”

On cue, a very human Jimin walks out in his boxers, glaring at the superhero. “Y/n, do you need my help?”

“N-No! G-Go put on a shirt!” you hiss, embarrassed at his lack of clothes. You turn back around to face Joon, who is preoccupied, eyes scanning your home for any movement. “Joon...”

Ugh, you just wanted to relax tonight! Screw this! “You know what?! If you want to get back at V, don’t try to change their minds, just make sure they can’t vote.” 

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin calls out your name in warning, scanning the room slowly.

You look around your apartment, trying to pinpoint Taehyung, walking around the superhero who follows your movement. “Why do you think we could blackmail them? They’re corrupt, obviously. Expose them if you really want to try and stop us. Get them arre-”

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Namjoon.” Jimin warns, his eyes flashing an intense yellow, pupils shifting into slits, resembling a cat’s eyes.

“Bring her back, V,” Namjoon growls, reaching out to where you just stood, touching only air.

Taehyung’s hand covers your mouth, your kitchen knife held to your throat. You put your hand over his, pulling at his fingers slowly so you can speak.

“Joon, I’m fine, listen to Jimin-”

“Show me!” Namjoon tries to pinpoint where he heard your voice. And to your surprise, Taehyung reveals the pair of you before hiding you once again.

“You really want to piss him off, huh?” you whisper under your breath to Taehyung, laughing bitterly as Namjoon’s shocked expression turns into fury.

“You did it, you compromised us for what? A nod of approval from someone who only ‘uses you’ to undermine me...your words!” He hisses back.

“You use me, you asshole. And maybe I’m tired of being used, so screw you both!”

“Y/N!” Namjoon roars.

Taehyung pushes you into the superhero, letting him see you. “Y-You’re bleeding!” Namjoon looks over your body for any other marks. Jimin’s eyes go wide in surprise, darkening back to his usual color.

“Oh. Yeah,” you wipe the small line of blood off your neck, healing yourself quickly.  “See, I’m fine.”

Namjoon holds you tightly. “You’re coming with me-”

“You won’t win that way-”

“W-Well, I’m not leaving you alone with them!”

You laugh, a sudden warmth in your chest returning at the frightful concern in his eyes, “I’ll be okay Joon, trust me,” you hug him suddenly, whispering into his ear, “Go, you’re going to need to work fast if you want to beat us, right?”

‘Us’ again, Namjoon thinks bitterly. Namjoon holds your head in his large hands, rubbing away the smudged blood from your neck. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he might have kissed you in that moment.

You glare at the spot over Namjoon’s shoulder, lifting your hand away from Joon, a knife reanimates and flies into the kitchen, clanking to the ground close to Jimin, making the shapeshifter yelp. Namjoon tries to punch V, only swinging at air, “I can take care of myself,” you reiterate, shoving Joon away and closing the door shut with your mind as he escapes.

“Okay okay, you can’t blame me for trying to kill him,” Taehyung reanimates in front of you, an apologetic smile on his annoying face.

“You are insufferable. I can’t stand you. You’re the worst-”

“Jimin, wake up Jungkook and tell him he needs to have eyes and ears on our new friends until I can get my bill passed, now it’s going to be out of our jurisdiction so he needs to be careful-”

“-All that bullshit before about being worried about me-”

“-Then in the morning let Yoongi know he needs to monitor any new police record requests-”

Jimin clears his throat. “Y/n, are you okay?” Jimin asks you wearily before Taehyung goes any further.

“Like I said, I’m fine,” you glare at Taehyung when you say it, finally nodding at Jimin and giving him a weak smile to let him know you’re okay. “So what now, asshole? Gonna try and stab me in the back next?”

“Like you did to us? But I know you’ll stop me before anything really happens to you,” Taehyung says a matter-of-factly. “C’mon, you weren’t in any real danger. I would never actually hurt you, obviously.”

You have half a mind to just let him brutally maim you out of spite. The way Jimin ignored him meant he wasn’t too impressed with what Taehyung did to you either, could you turn him against Taehyung for you? 

A hawk lands on your shoulder, Jimin’s beak knocking against your jaw, “I’m okay,” you laugh, “He wasn’t actually pressing hard.” Hawk Jimin lands on Taehyung’s shoulder next, ruffling his feathers, listening to the rest of his instructions before leaving out the window.

“Y/n, I’m sorry-”

“I just took a shower,” you whine.

Taehyung wets a wash cloth, cleaning the dried blood off your skin. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “But I had to think fast, and you left me with little options.”

“And your first thought just had to be kidnapping with a deadly weapon? You drive me crazy.”

Taehyung chuckles, deep, soft, comforting, his fingers delicately working to help you now that Namjoon was gone. Taehyung’s specific type of comfort wasn’t what you really wanted, but it was better than nothing. You glance over at him as he silently works to clean you up.

“I’m not sorry,” you mutter, sulking.

“Oh I know damn well you’re not,” Taehyung mutters too.

“Why did you come here in the first place? I promised you, didn’t I?”

“Looks like it happened anyways...I know I said I would give you space...I...couldn't stay away.” Taehyung looks lost, unsure about what to say next, there’s no confident banter you’re used to from him.

“So needy...” you raise your eyebrow at him. You said it lightly, only teasing him, seeing if you could get him to crack a smile after the intense show down. And he does. 

“...and we’re not even dating.”

“Not yet,” he smirks.

“Funny, how about we go a day without trying to kill each other first?”

“I can do that,” he says confidently.

---

Jimin is purring, cuddled against your head as an orange tabby cat. You scratch his ears and he purrs even louder. “Where are we?” This bed is huge and definitely not yours. Jimin stretches his cat body and jumps off the bed, hiding away because he knows you’re going to be mad at the answer.

You quickly put two and two together, noticing the opulence in the room, the only other place you could be was at Mayor Kim’s mansion.

“Where is Jungkook?” you find Taehyung in his study.

“Out cleaning up your mess, why?”

“Because I promised him I would break his fingers if he hopped me without my permission again.”

“I asked him to, so-” Taehyung holds out his palm to you, continuing to write down notes with his other hand.

You should. You really really want to.

“And why did you do that?”

“Because I needed to work.”

You try not to raise your voice with your next question, “And why am I here?”

“Until the bill is passed, you’ll stay with me,” he states, going back to his note taking.

“And why would I agree to that?!” You scream, poise and restraint now long gone.

Taehyung crosses his arms. “Because I can say with a hundred percent certainty you will somehow find a way to mess this up even more if I let you out of my sight.”

His desk begins to shake, the pictures in his office tilting askew. “You think you can keep me here?”

“You’ll do what I say, because I’ll tell the others what you did and as much as you like to pretend you don’t care about what they think of you-”

“Shh.” You hold up a finger, shutting Taehyung’s mouth with your powers. 

You look around his office. The decor is tasteful and elegant, expensive antiques and gold finishing. Taehyung fits right in with his dignified demeanor. But you don’t belong here…and you don’t want to.  

“Mayor Kim…” you step closer to your immobilized cohort, circling his desk. “You could have just asked nicely.” You take a seat on said desk, crunching the paper under you. You grab the tip of his tie wrapping it one, two, three times around your palm, pulling him closer to you.

“I’ve played along, haven’t I? Don’t make me your enemy.” You finally let your telekinetic hold on Taehyung go.

“RM is the enemy,” he swallows.

“Joon is not my enemy-”

“But he is though, y/n. You can’t be so naïve-” You yank his tie to the side, his head pressing painfully on the wood next to you. He breathes through his teeth, glaring up at you.

“And you’re so wise? Then choose your next words wisely, Taehyung.”

Taehyung grunts, palm flat on your thigh, pressing down as he tries to lift himself up unsuccessfully. 

There is really only one man strong enough to fight your power. 

His fingers curl into the flesh of your thigh, catching you off guard. “Did you forget our promise to each other?”

You roll your eyes, letting his tie go and crossing your arms. “You’re making it very hard for me to even like you-”

“Not that promise,” he says, fingers still gripping at your thigh. “The one we made to each other the day you asked me to help you kill The Mayor.”

-VOWS-

“Have you ever killed someone before?” Taehyung crosses his arms, looking you up and down. You would have normally faltered under his scrutinizing gaze, but you had let go of your shame in your desperation.

Should you lie? Make him believe you had no reservations. You had a feeling he would be able to see right through your lies even without Seokjin’s assistance. “No.”

Taehyung’s office had high windows and bad lighting, but the moon was full and the blinds were broken. Streaks of moonlight covered the walls of Taehyung’s office, striping the shadows where he stood.

It took you all day to build up the courage to ask Seokjin to take you to see Taehyung. You knew it was going to be no easy task to convince Taehyung and the others with the way Seokjin’s normally cocky demeanor darkened when your initial shock wore off and your intentions were clear. 

Taehyung shakes his head. “We’re all going to have targets on our backs if we do this and he doesn’t die. Also, if we do go through with what you want… Y/n, you’re asking us to become murderers-”

“I’m not asking you to! I’m asking you to help me… You help me do this, and I’ll help you.”

“With what?”

“With anything,” you swallow, resolute. “I have to do this. He’s going to…he’s going to hurt Joon if I don’t do something!”

“I know.” Taehyung says impassively, “You know, that would solve all my problems, I won’t have to worry about RM anymore. So what do I even get out of helping you? What is worth putting all of us in danger to save Kim Namjoon?”

You look at him in disbelief. You want to tell Taehyung to go to hell, but you have no idea how to stop The Mayor on your own without getting caught. You need his help. “You brought me here! Why would you kidnap me, have Seokjin show me those things-”

“You’re not listening, so let me ask you again, what will you do for me-”

“What! What do you want?! I said I’d do anything!” Your eyes sting as you blink away tears in your frustration. “Taehyung, please,” you cry. 

“Everything. Not anything, from now on, I want you to help us with everything.” He grips your shoulders tight. “Then, I will kill The Mayor for you myself if I have to.”

You swallow, mentally working through Taehyung’s conditions and confession. The way he said it so ardently, you wonder…if Taehyung has killed before. “No, I’ll do it.” 

For Namjoon, to protect him, you would do the absolute worst without any regrets.

---

You look down at Taehyung’s long slender fingers, splayed across your thigh, resigning to his touch. “I haven’t forgotten.” You lie back, stretching out your arms, sighing. You are very aware you are making a mess of his carefully stacked memos and you don’t care. “What if I promise to be a good girl from now on? Cross my heart.” You wink, using your powers to move Taehyung’s fingers in an X across your thigh.

He licks his lips, watching as his fingers trace along your skin. “Oh but I know you’re not” Taehyung’s eyes narrow on your sly smile, his fingers moving higher up your thigh. “You like to play the part, but you always end up being…” he coughs, “bad.”

“Maybe,” you say flippantly. “Or maybe you don’t give me much of a choice.” You glare at him.

He leans over his desk and over you, caging you in. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. I’ve watched you torturing people with a smile on your face.”

You sigh, giving up again. “People. People or monsters?”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me, y/n. That’s why we make a good team,” he smiles, gripping your knee instead and shaking your leg reassuringly. You grind your teeth, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“I don’t mean to upset you, but…do you think Namjoon would ever give you the same grace? I wish you would see what’s in front of you…” 

His hand moves to your cheek, holding you gently. His lips touch yours so softly and leave so quickly the act could barely qualify as a kiss. 

Taehyung had been so gentle with you, which made the following brutality hurt even worse.

“If Namjoon knew how you really were, would he think you were a monster? If he saw what I saw that night, and what you did in that room over there,” Taehyung turns your chin so you have to look. The door to the adjoining room is shut and locked. Taehyung keeps the small study room closed, because even he can barely stomach the memory. “Would he touch you like this?” his lips press against your cheek.

-

“Jimin,” you grunt, cuddling the napping feline close to you. “Turn back into a human, please, I...need you.” Jimin transforms, his limbs tangling around yours, pulling you into an embrace.

“You know Tae is not as bad as you think he is, he’s helped me so many times, give him a chance to prove himself-”

“Bad…good…I don’t care, right now he’s being a pain in my ass,” you mumble, burying your head in Jimin’s chest where it’s warm and cozy and his steady heartbeat calms you down. 

“Why do you hate him so much?” Jimin chuckles.

“If I hated him, would I still be here?” you mumble, resting against him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jimin holds you tighter when you shake, breath catching in your throat. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you don’t want to think about it and confirm your worst fears. “Can I ask you something?” you ask, looking for a distraction, perhaps some blackmail. Jimin turns his head, waiting.  “Why V?”

“Why do we follow V?”

“No.” You remember the purple spray paint etched across the bank door, back when you and Namjoon were inseparable. “Why the name, V?”

Jimin laughs, sighing, “Well-”

-

“How’s it back home?” Taehyung asks as Jungkook and Yoongi reappear with a week’s supply of homemade food in their arms, a gift from Jungkook’s mother.

“It’s getting worse,” Yoongi sighs. “Some parts can’t even cook with it.” 

‘It,’ being their town’s water supply. Yoongi and Jungkook just finished their weekly trip to drop off cases of water to their families and friends. “And if that new bill goes through…I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Well, you are thinking about it, quite loudly,” Seokjin interjects, rubbing his eyes.

The group sits quietly together. “Should we try another petition?” Hoseok suggests, optimistic.

Everyone knows it won’t work. They all knew what had to be done, but Taehyung was the only one courageous enough to say it.

“No…” Taehyung sighs, glancing over at Jin, knowing he could see the idea he had in mind. “We’ve tried it their way, now let’s do it our way.”

Jungkook cracks his knuckles. “What did you have in mind?”

Suddenly Seokjin laughs, gathering everyone’s attention. “This guy not only wants us to kidnap The Mayor, he wants us to rob a bank and blow up the courthouse.”

“Blow it up?!”

“Wait, rob a bank? Like…bank robbers?”

“Me and Jungkook have discussed it before,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “We can do it…with your help, Yoongi.” Taehyung turns to the tech talker, who seems to be mulling the idea over.

“But The Mayor, you really think we can get away with it? It’s-”

“Dangerous.” Seokjin finishes Jungkook’s thought.

“Dangerous and high-profile. I thought we are supposed to be keeping a low-profile,” Jimin reminds them.

“We’ve tried everything else,” Taehyung interjects. “Haven’t we? Maybe it’s time we make a scene.”

“And if we get caught….you’re asking us to commit about seven different felonies,” Seokjin says.

“The Mayor is too risky,” Jimin interjects again.

“We can do this! Jin?” he asks Seokjin, hoping for backup.

“I’m definitely not The Mayor’s biggest fan, but this…”

“You’ve looked through his mind, tell me if there is another way to convince him.” Jin rubs his jaw, stretching his neck, thinking it over. “This is for our families too, not just us this time. This is a chance to really make a difference. A huge difference!” Taehyung tries to convince him.

“If anything goes wrong-”

“Then Jungkook and I will get you out, no matter what, right?” Taehyung catches the youngest’s gaze and he nods. 

He looks around the group, adding. “Just like any other time. We can do this.”

“This is not like any other time,” Jimin whines. 

“We were almost arrested at the last protest.” Taehyung says bitterly. “They want us to be criminals so badly, so why don’t we?”

Hoseok crosses his arms. “You’re asking us to be a little more than criminals-” 

“I’m in.” Yoongi speaks first, surprising everyone.

“I’m in,” Seokjin adds immediately after, coughing. “I try not to hold people’s thoughts against them, but…” He looks around the room, “Taehyung’s right, The Mayor only cares about money, he’s not going to change his mind.”

Taehyung tries to hide his smile unsuccessfully. “They think they have all the power. But the six of us here? We have real power, we just have to be willing to use it against them.”

“You forget…RM…” Jimin adds.  “What if he gets involved?”

“Against all of us? Six against one? He’ll never see us coming!”

“But he’s a superhero,” Jungkook says with a mixture of awe and worry. “How are we supposed to beat him?”

“We’ll we’re– uh,” Taehyung falters. “We have super powers too, don’t we?” Taehyung sighs. “RM and The Mayor have control of this city, but they don’t know it like us, we’re in the streets every day.”

“What are you saying?”

Seokjin laughs quietly, breaking the silence, “...I’m not wearing a cape.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “You want us to be superheroes?”

“No,” Seokjin says, staring at Taehyung.

“No,” Taehyung says. “They’ll never see us as heroes.” He sighs, leaning back. 

Hoseok frowns. Jungkook nervously taps his foot and Yoongi crosses his arms. Jimin looks around the room at everyone’s solemn expressions and Seokjin laughs, breaking the tension.

“We’re going to be super-”

“-Villains.” Seokjin finishes. 

“I’ll be their villain. I’ll be, V.” Taehyung adds, “So will you help me?”

Seokjin tsks, “RM vs. V? I’ll put some money on that. But I guess first we’re gonna have to steal it.”

“Tell us your plan, then, V.” Hoseok crosses his arms.

“Yeah, V.” Jungkook chimes in, laughing. And everything goes back to normal for the time being.

-

“Hmmm.” You play with Jimin’s fingers, “Not super subtle, is it? And you all just agreed?”

“Yeah, we all agreed eventually, wouldn’t you?” he smiles.

You roll your eyes. Well knowing what you know now about The Mayor, it wasn’t even a question! But…

“You’re loyal,” you look at Jimin, watching as his eyes slowly shift colors. “I can respect that.” You add, “Do you ever regret it?”

“Hmm,” Jimin stretches, crossing his arms behind his head. “Nah. We all…had a difficult time growing up. Now I’m sleeping in the Mayor’s mansion with a pretty girl next to me,” he jokes. “Even if this all blows up in our faces, it was worth it.”

“You don’t mind the whole world seeing you as a ‘villain’?” you ask, trying to keep your own anxious feelings down.

“The people I love don’t see me like that.”

You frown. You wish you could say the same thing…

Jimin realizes his mistake. “We all think you’re pretty badass. I’m glad you’re on our side,” he soothes. “Listen…” He sighs, wondering if he should mention the superhero, eventually deciding to continue, “I think Namjoon will eventually-”

You scoff, “I don’t wanna talk about him, just...don’t let go.” You move closer into Jimin’s arms.

You didn’t want to think about Taehyung or Namjoon or anyone right now. You just wanted to be hugged.

-

“This is a panic room, not a lounge.”

“Well, you’re keeping me here like a damn prisoner, I thought I should play the part,” you dismiss, looking over the multiple camera displays with an idealistic hope you might catch a glimpse of your superhero in the sky.

“I brought in a private chef the other day-”

“I have work, you know-”

“You are always complaining about wanting a vacation!”

“Yeah, to like, The Bahamas!” you whine.

Taehyung sighs. You sigh even louder.

“How about this, I’ll take you out, I’ve been so busy with drafting proposals, I haven’t had a chance to get out either. We could go out for drinks?”

“Aren’t you worried about being recognized?”

Taehyung smiles.

-

You know Taehyung has to hold your hand so his powers could make you invisible too, but it still feels like his fingers interlocked with yours means something more…

You did however enjoy the feeling of weaving through bodies undetected, walking down the street together completely undetectable to the naked eye.

“How are you doing?” you ask him.

“I could do this all night,” he smiles, looking in your direction. You stifle a laugh. “Seriously, lately I haven’t had a chance to use my powers. Before, I used to be invisible all the time.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I felt more myself when I was.”

You guess you could relate in some ways. Growing up, you would avoid your powers like a plague, constantly afraid Namjoon would notice or that you might even lose control. But now that you freely use your powers, it feels like a relief, like you had been holding your breath all this time and you can finally fully breathe. 

You still have those anxious thoughts every now and then, but it’s gotten better the longer you’ve been around Taehyung’s group. 

“Saw that.”

“What?” you play coy, eating the fried dough you swiped from the food cart you and Taehyung just passed by. Taehyung sighs, stopping and pulling out some bills, dropping the money under the cart.

“Look at you,” you eye him, “Is this the same man who stole an entire suitcase full of jewelry?” you rib.

“That’s different, to someone like him, the value of losing a sale is worth more and I can afford to pay him.”

You stuff the remaining fried dough in your mouth. “Mhmm, not to that jeweler. Let’s go look at the lights!” You pull Taehyung along, running towards the water, a place in the city that has a nightly light display to music.

You want to get closer, but the crowd makes it impossible, it’s already hard enough to dodge people without causing a disturbance and freaking out the people around you. Taehyung holds you from behind as you reluctantly move further away to avoid suspicion. “Should I unmask us so you can see?”

“Hmm I could use my powers and-” You use your powers to defy gravity, as you and Taehyung’s body start to rise.

His grip around you tightens, “Ahh no no.”

You laugh, letting your powers waiver so your heels drop back down. “What, scared of flying?”

“Scared of heights,” Taehyung winces.

“Ooh, now I know one of your weaknesses,” you tease.

Taehyung scoffs, “Here, get that for me,” Taehyung gestures to a man standing close, looking at his hat, which at the precise moment blows away in the “wind.” You catch it easily as the man looks around for his missing hat. Taehyung thanks you and puts the cap on and pulls it down over his eyes before revealing himself and you.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He pulls you this time, guiding you into the crowd so you can see the lights better.

“Are you sure this is okay? What if someone recognizes you?” you whisper.

He leans in closer to you, head over your shoulder. “I’m not worried, I have a more than capable bodyguard right here.

You laugh, “Alright, if you say so,” you smile, letting him hug you from behind. This is the closest you and him have ever been, and even though you have the perfect view of the lights, it’s hard to pay attention with Taehyung wrapped around you so tightly, his hot breath hitting your cheek.

“You okay?” Of course Taehyung wouldn’t give you the luxury of ignoring your body’s traitorous responses. “Your heart is pounding.” His arms move up higher against your torso, pressing up against your breasts. “Excited?” he says teasingly.

“I haven’t seen the lights in awhile, so yeah,” you dismiss, turning your head upwards to the sky.

Taehyung chuckles, enjoying the moment. 

“Y/n, I like you,”  Taehyung whispers in your ear.

“Do you say that to all the girls that help you overthrow an election?”

“I liked you way before that.”

“Sure, you did,” you dismiss.

“Do you even remember when we were in school?”

“Of course I remember you.”

“No you really don’t. You were always too busy with Namjoon to notice anyone else.” Taehyung sighs. “Maybe you would have noticed I liked you then.”

“What? Don’t lie to me.”

“I did!” he defends himself, “You really don’t remember, do you?”

It was true Taehyung never bullied you like your other classmates, but he was just being kind, wasn’t he?

“You were like me, different. Even before our powers. And I liked the way you never backed down to others. I wanted to be like you. I tried to be your friend-”

“That’s not true,” you turn around, forgetting about the lights.

“Ask Jimin and Jungkook. Namjoon was like your human shield.” He runs his hand along your jawline. “And I was…not brave enough then,” he looks down.

Can you believe him? Back in school you remember Taehyung was well-liked and popular, a little eccentric sometimes and acted like a goofball with his friends, but… 

You try to think back to any interactions you might have had with him-

A group of popular girls had knocked your books out of your hands. You yelled at them as they had walked away laughing. You wanted desperately to throw them down the stairs with your powers, but you calmed yourself before acting rashly, knowing you probably would have miscalculated and fatally hurt one of them…as if they didn’t deserve it!

But before you could work yourself back up again, your classmate Taehyung came and picked up your books for you, apologizing on their behalf. 

God, you wish you could remember more. When you thought more about that day, you only remembered how Namjoon came bounding to you, worriedly looked you over, vowing to tell the teachers, which only made you hit him with your books before making him promise to let it go, cause no one liked a snitch!

Taehyung’s hand firm against your cheek brought your thoughts back into the moment, to his face so close to yours and his determined eyes staring down at you. You tried to find another memory, something to confirm his words, but you couldn’t. You felt glued to him in this moment, lost in his deep brown eyes, so pleadingly looking at you to believe him.

You feel so shocked you can’t move, even when his lips press against yours.

-FIVE DAYS LATER-

You and Jimin wore sunglasses and the same tight-fitted black suit, standing on both sides of the mind reader, you all really looked the part of Taehyung’s entourage.

“I’m not taking a bullet for that man,” you mutter under your breath at Yoongi, who pushes his sunglasses down to stare at you.

“I like you in a pant suit.”

“Yeah? Well cause I look better than all of you.”

“Not better than me!” Seokjin announces.

“That’s debatable,” Jimin laughs.

“Jimin, I would die for you!” You smile, and remembering security is supposed to be stoic, go back to glaring at anyone who looks in Taehyung’s direction.

There is so much controversy surrounding the bill now, every political figure is on high alert. Taehyung has to keep appearances, lest they suspect him.

“So what’s the tally now?” you ask Yoongi.

“He’s got one on a pretty damning domestic violence charge, his ex wife was all over social media accusing him, but RM finally got the DA to charge him...but he’s out on bail.”

“He can still work?!”

“Well yeah, he’s not convicted yet. Innocent until proven guilty!” Jin says sarcastically.

“What about the embezzlement guy?” Jimin asks. “The one all over the news now.”

“Oh we lost that one, looks you can beat your wife but not the feds.”

You groan. “And I guess I’m not allowed to hurt Mr. Wife Beater until the bill is passed?”

“Correct,” Taehyung says, looking over his shoulder at you. You roll your eyes.

“See you in a bit,” you whisper to Yoongi.

“See ya, don’t enjoy yourself too much,” he whispers back, hooking your pinkies together.

“Oh but I will,” you wink, teasing him before you, Jin, and Hoseok veer away from the group.

“I was kind of digging the pants suit,” you say as Hoseok hands you a backpack full of new clothes. The three of you are in one bathroom stall, changing into clothes that look less like security and more like Taehyung’s attire, a dress and suits fit for someone of elite status.

“If you peek I’ll know,” Jin says, unbuttoning his shirt.

You turn your back to him, doing the same. “Not interested,” you scoff.

“That’s a lie,” Jin says.

“Okay, human lie detector,” you groan, unbuttoning your pants.

Hoseok’s bare shoulder rubs against your naked body as he pulls on a new pair of pants.

“Hoseok, please control your thoughts,” Jin whines.

“What?” Hoseok squeaks as you step into your dress.

“Can you zip it up for me?” you turn around. Hoseok’s suit is white, a relaxed loose fit that looks perfect on him. Seokjin’s suit is devilishly red, buttoned tight around his waist, showing off his lean and tall frame. It makes perfect sense to you, their choices, an angel and devil, who would you choose to listen to tonight?

“W-Where are your clothes!”

“What do you mean?” you look down at your own dress, long, black and velvet, with sheer detailing, and a very very very high slit.

“It’s see through!”

“Whatever, it’s covering the important bits.” You fasten a diamond necklace around your neck and decide you will not be returning this ensemble to Taehyung at the end of the night. “Zip it!” Jin does it for you, teasingly slow, of course, that devil.

“Ready to play your parts?” Jin asks. You and Hoseok both nod and then you scatter into the crowd inside the art museum.

The life of the party. Hoseok chats everyone up, learning who is who, and who the important people are. Of course there is Mayor Kim tonight, a fan of art, visiting the city Museum during its charity event. There is a slew of socialites, daughters of rich men, flirting and offering Hoseok their thoughts on the artist. There is a high profile collector in attendance, and a lastly, a few lovers of art, who would have guessed?

The gaucho. Jin is loud, condescending, the worst kind of art critic. Oh, you haven’t heard of him? That sounds like a you problem. He’s the type that can sway a whole crowd with his views. A pat on the back, to look at the piece again, and suddenly they can see it too. He strategically thins the crowds around certain art pieces.

And you are, the provocateur.

“Joon!” The challenge. He looks cute, so out of place in his sweater and long coat, but somehow fitting in perfectly between the art pieces.

“Y/n, w-what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well...” you move to his side, hooking your arm under his, “I am...going to steal that,” you nod to the large art piece against the farthest wall.

Namjoon scans the area, seeing if anyone heard you. “You’re being serious?” he says in disbelief, “Are you insane? Do you think I’m going to let you?”

You lean against him. “No,” you smile. “I intend to steal it and get caught doing it. It’s a fake, Namjoon,“ you whisper, laughing, as if it were obvious.

“What?” he peers over at the painting, holding himself back from getting closer. “How can you tell?”

“Well you can’t really, that’s the point. Which I guess begs the question, what makes that one so worthless?”

“The original holds the artist’s idea...” You two walk around the room, looking at another art piece. “It just can’t be compared.”

“But, if the copy is flawless in every way, the effort it took to paint is still there...the brush strokes, the paint, the time, all add up. Yet the original is just...always better? You can’t even tell the difference!”

“The artist who painted it can tell.”

“The artist is dead, and you know what? I bet he couldn’t, I bet I could convince him that that one was the original, just like everyone else here is convinced.”

“Then it’s selling a lie.”

“So you agree then, I should take it? Expose the truth!” you tease.

“Where’s the real one?” Namjoon asks, ignoring your question with one of his own.

“Probably in some old guy’s home collecting dust and being used to launder money. Taehyung wants to expose the fake and the art gallery’s shady dealings, maybe even get the original back...”

“Why would he go to all this trouble?”

“That’s just his style,” you joke. “You should know by now. So will you let me steal it?”

“How do I know you just didn’t make all this up right now?”

You sigh. “I guess we can’t all have Jin’s assuredness, huh?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon frowns, watching the man in question walk to another painting with a large crowd in tow, ready to hear his thoughts on the next piece.

“Well, I’m still stealing it,” you declare. “But we have time until then, so want to show me around? Or leave me to my own evil devices?” you tease, “Or take me someplace where we can be alone?” you bite you lip, eyeing him up and down.

Namjoon swallows, trying to think of anything other than the way your body is so on display in your sheer dress, your curves rivaling the beauty of the three dimensional art pieces around you. He tries not to think about you in his arms, twisting you as he pleases, the translucent nylon stretching and showing more of you until he forgets to breathe. “Why do I get the feeling you are trying to distract me?”

“Well it’s true I want all your attention,” you stare at him, daring him to look away. “I have to remind you though, now that I told you, if you do let me steal it...you’ll be an accomplice.”

Namjoon laughs a little too loud and people stare at the pair of you.

“Joon...” you say softly, “I miss you.”

“You have lots of friends now to keep you company.” He fixes the gems of your necklace, fingers lingering on your cheek. “Which one of them stole this for you?”

You resist the urge to frown and roll your eyes, turning to the still life painting in front of you instead. “Go ahead and confiscate it if you want, might as well take the dress off of me too,” you challenge.

Namjoon drags you to the next art piece, defiantly silent.

“I hoped you might have felt the same,” you sigh, “I guess that’s stupid of me, to hope you missed me too.”

Namjoon clenches his jaw, eyes focused on the large painting. “You know how I feel about you-”

“I don’t know,” you argue, wanting to hear him say it.

“What I feel doesn’t matter, actions matter.”

Goddamn him. “I don’t want to argue with you tonight. Can’t we enjoy the art, like we used to?”

“The red lines in this painting, notice how you can follow through to this one, and this?”

You nod, holding his arm tighter. He pulls you closer to the last painting, turning your body to look at all three, so you can see how the overlapping lines connect across each piece. “Red for blood, representing the strings of fate.” Namjoon’s arm naturally wraps around your waist, his jaw against your cheek as he gently guides your eye line. 

“You see all that?” you smile, you could listen to him pick apart art all day long.

Namjoon’s finger taps the plaque next to you, titled “Moirai.” The three fates. You tilt your head to look behind you, where his frame towers. His eyes sparkle with passion for the art. You think it’s the art, but your heart hopes it’s something more...

“I…want to kiss you so badly...”

Namjoon looks at you, his heart jumping in his chest-

“There you are! I was wondering where you went off to. You don't mind if I steal your friend away, right?”

Taehyung. This was not part of the plan!

Cameras are suddenly around you, a handful of photographers that have been shadowing The Mayor. Namjoon has no choice but to offer him a tight lipped smile, nodding. “She’s all yours, for now,” he adds under his breath.

Taehyung holds his hand out to you and you don’t miss a beat, placing your fingers in his palm. He kisses your knuckles and the cameras love it, a dozen flashes going off in unison.

“You look familiar. Have we met before?” Mayor Kim addresses Namjoon. Taehyung is clearly out for blood, playing coy and using his status against him.

“Namjoon is an art history expert,” you say proudly, “and he is a collector of art!”

“No I am not,” Namjoon mutters, ears reddening.

“You are!” you still remember how he saved up for months to buy a particular painting he adored. When he first moved in, you helped him frame all the drawings he has collected over the years. “His home looks like an art gallery.”

“Ahhh,” Taehyung fakes intrigue. “One more photo, guys!” He turns to the cameras, “Please, let me have some time to myself to enjoy...the art,” he grins in your direction.

Taehyung pulls you to his side, and you’re forced to fake a smile for the cameras, the flashes nearly blinding you. How does Taehyung do this all the time, and seem to enjoy it?

Taehyung smiles wide. His arm is over your shoulder, fingers tickling your arm. Cameras flash.

His arm moves lower, stopping around your waist. Flash. He quickly pulls you closer, turns his head and nuzzles your neck. Flash. You can’t help but giggle uncontrollably and cameras flash two times faster. Flash Flash Flash. You’re going to have to have a talk with Yoongi to make sure none of those photos end up online.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Taehyung says after photographers have scurried away. He peers over at Namjoon who has managed to keep himself from ripping Taehyung's arms off of you up until this point, his restraint now wavering to dangerous levels.

Namjoon nods in agreement, staring at you as you become increasingly more uncomfortable with whatever game Taehyung is playing. “Mayor Kim, have you been drinking?”

“Yes, there’s an open bar,” he reminds you, “but I am still more than capable of-” he turns to Namjoon, whispering, “stealing that painting.”

You step in between both men as Namjoon advances, running into Namjoon’s arms instead before The Mayor’s security descends. You hadn’t expected Namjoon to wrap his arms around you. “I would love that. I would love for you to try, instead of making my friend act like a criminal.”

Taehyung tilts his head at the pair of you, “It’s no act.”

“Joon, show me your favorite art piece here, will you?” You try to move the headstrong pair away from each other.

Namjoon looks between you and the Mayor. He can’t figure it out, the plan you have both concocted, and it is infuriating. “And what if I leave and take you with me right now.” He interlocks his arms around your frame, looking at you, testing your reaction. You want to tell him to take you, more than anything-

“Hmm I’d let you have her for tonight to keep you out of my hair.”

“Taehyung!” you hiss as Namjoon pushes against you to get closer to the Mayor, a huge mistake that has what’s left of his security coming to stop Joon. Why is he ruining his own goddamn plan?! Unless...

“Is there a problem, Sir?” Jimin speaks up, halting your argument. You glare at-

The mastermind. It was all Taehyung’s idea to do this. Even though Taehyung had an appreciation for the craftmanship of modern art, he despised the art scene, the overinflated prices, the elitism of it all, the very culture often being critiqued gathering together to inflate their own egos rather than to show any real appreciation for what it took to create such magnificence. Which is why Taehyung wanted to expose all of it for the sham it was. And, perhaps, get the real art piece somewhere where it will be appreciated, like in his study...

But the plan was to distract Namjoon while the others work to switch the original with a fake, not piss him off so much he was going to get you all kicked out before you could do anything!

There was something Taehyung was keeping from you...

Is there no honor amongst thieves?!

“Yes, Jimin, can you please escort Mr...Kim Namjoon, was it? Mr. Kim Namjoon out before he does something he regrets.”

“No. No!” You hold onto Namjoon. You didn’t want your time with him to be cut so short.

“Don’t make a scene, darling.” Taehyung pulls you to him quickly.

“You’re the one making a fucking scene,” you whisper, unwilling to part from Joon, wanting to cry at this unfair treatment. You knew how much Namjoon loved art and how much he wanted to be here.

Namjoon watched as you abated your breath and held in your tears, and the sight kept him from charging through security to get to Taehyung, even when the young politician put his arm around your shoulder arrogantly.

“I’ll be back…as RM,” he threatens.

“We’re counting on it,” Taehyung smiles.

-

“Why would you do that? We said he would stay!”

“He has to believe it. That’s the plan, right, my damsel?”

“He will,” you swallow, worried you’ve gone too far. No…this will work. Even though you have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach over Taehyung’s enthusiastic cooperation.

“And will you give me some damn space?” you threaten, acutely aware of how Taehyung has himself pressed up against you, leaning into you like a lover would.

He wraps his arms around your waist. “Do you have any idea how hot you look right now?”

“You really are drunk, aren’t you?”

Taehyung chuckles, head knocking into yours. “I want to kiss you.”

You look around, surprised no one has noticed his antics. “You’re going to kiss me? In front of all these people and cameras?” you laugh.

“No. Because,” he holds your waist tightly, “They don’t see us.” He moves you closer to a vase on display. You peer down at the shiny surface, your reflections missing. “They haven’t for awhile now.”

“Huh? Damn, I didn’t even notice.”

“It’s nice right? We could do anything we wanted, and they wouldn’t know.” He moves you further away from the crowds. “I could kiss you...I fuck you right here, and they wouldn’t be the wiser,” he teases, “That is...if you can keep quiet.” You wore the perfect outfit, his hand travels down to your exposed thigh.

“You drunken idiot.”

“If I kiss you, would you stop me?”

“Find out,” you challenge.

“The mission first.” He pulls away from you. You realize your hand had absentmindedly snaked its way around Taehyung’s neck when he removes it and places your palm on the wall next to you.

“You’re giving me mixed signals, Mayor.”

“Knock down all the paintings on this wall.”

You sigh, running your finger along the wall. “Fine.” The row of paintings fall when you point down earning frightened yelps from those in attendance who are closest.

“You could destroy this whole museum without even trying,” he whispers, shamelessly eyeing you up and down. “So fucking hot.”

Taehyung holds your shoulders, pushing you against the newly bare museum wall and then kisses you, devouring your lips so roughly your head knocks against it, hands wrapping back around your waist until you’re pressed so tightly together you’re melting into his embrace and Taehyung knows you’ve stopped thinking about your damned superhero. 

The remaining three walls suddenly become bare when Taehyung presses his knee up between your legs. “Shit,” you manage to calm yourself down as the Museum’s curator goes into hysterics.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, his head buried in your neck. Everyone is ushered into the adjoining room. “We should help,” you stutter.

“They got it handled, isn’t this more fun?”

Once the room is cleared, only staff remain, frantically trying to figure out what to do. That’s when you see him, the wide eyed teleporter in a fancy black suit similar to other staff members. He works quickly and discreetly, switching out real paintings with fakes. Everyone was so tense and focused on their task, no one even noticed the slight changes in his stance. You watched mesmerized, watching Jungkook work was like watching a video skipping frames, a real time glitch in person.

“How many originals are you taking?”

“What if I took all of them?” he smirks.

You roll your eyes. It is true that there have been shady dealings, but Taehyung hadn’t quite figured out which paintings were fakes, his solution? Steal them all, make them all forgeries.

“He’s lurking outside of the South entrance.” You can feel Namjoon, it is…nice to think about him. Sometimes you wonder if he can sense when you do this, if he can feel your presence as if you were holding him. “Now?” you ask Taehyung, ready for action.

“No, change of plans-”

“What?” you hiss.

“Relax, you’ll still get what you want-”

“You know I don’t like being left out!”

“Ohoho, when you begged me to leave the others out of-”

You grab a nice chunk of Taehyung’s hair and yank. “That is different.”

“Yes, yes, it’s different...” You watch his Adam’s apple jump up as he swallows, his long neck outstetched and very enticing to lick, the sight makes you lessen your grip only slightly.

“What change?”

“Sorry love, we won’t be stealing anything-”

Taehyung has to be joking. You made a deal and if Taehyung goes back on it now, you’ll make him regret everything. “I have to get arrested-”

“Oh you definitely will.” You frown because he’s not making any sense.

“I know you hate it when we drag you into our politics. If I told you everything you were just going to be a brat about it,” he says. You blink, taking a deep breath, disappointed and annoyed. “It will still have the same effect! When they clean the paintings they’ll realize they are fakes.”

Huh? You groan, you reliaze exactly what Taehyung...no, V and the rest of those ecoterrorists want to do. “This new plan is fucking lame. You know this kind of shit goes right over people’s heads?” You have heard of this happening to other museums. Defacing art in the name of the environment definitely gets people talking, but you have to wonder if it actually changes minds?

“As long as they are talking about it, it keeps my clean energy proposal relevant, that’s what matters. If anything my proposal will look so much more reasonable in comparison, don't you think? Hoseok will do all the talking, you just have to make sure your aim hits.”

“I’m tired of being used as a pawn.” You glare at him, and then against his will, his fingers move of your own accord.

“Not a pawn,” Taehyung grunts, unsuccessfully fighting against your powers. “You’re a Queen…a Queen...”

“Queen huh,” Taehyung’s body goes rigid as he moves against his own will.

His head rests on your shoulder, then in between your breasts, moving down the front of your body, falling to his knees, head resting against your hip bone. This kind of tortuous play Taehyung could get used to.

You notice Mr. Art Critic and double agent 006 sense in the art curator’s ear, no doubt whispering persuasive white lies to further the plan along. Eventually you’ll move to the other room, where everyone left will be the perfect captive audience.

You could have sworn Seokjin looked right at you at one point, as if he can see you and his friend kneeling at your feet.

You lean against the wall, letting your anger subside. Eventually, you allow Taehyung to look up at you.

Sometimes you wondered who you were looking at, which version of Taehyung was staring back at you. This kind of occupation fractured people, or perhaps you all became broken that night in the forest, who you were supposed to be and who you became were shattered fragments held together by unimaginable power.

You run your hand through his hair, fixing the strands you messed up back in place. “You’re very frustrating.”

“Have I ever not given you what you wanted? This plan will work, you’ll get your white knight back as a black knight.”

You swallow, your will to fight against Taehyung diminishing less and less until you let go of your mind hold on him all together.

This little plan of yours might be drastic, but the gentle approach when dealing with RM never works. But unlike Taehyung, you don’t need Namjoon to turn dark, just...understand you. You can do this, play this game you and Taehyung have set up. You just have to push Joon just a bit, but not let him be captured by your side. A Queen can move anywhere across the board after all, the Queen is more powerful than the King.

“You don’t have to stay on your knees,” you eye the very handsome man caressing your legs.

“We have plenty of time,” Taehyung’s lips graze your exposed thigh.

“Fuck,” you murmur, looking around. No one even looks in your direction. You look down at the man in between your legs, so willing to stay on his knees for you. You should focus on the mission. You need to make yourself available, but all you could focus on were the small electrical currents of pleasure caused by Taehyung’s slow and determined caresses.

His fingers are a shock to your system when he drags his hand under your dress, pressing into your heat suddenly.

This is the last time, the last time Taehyung will have any power over you.

You hoped. 

---

“RM, hey! My kid’s a big fan, do you think I can get an autograph.”

“Err yeah sure, what’s going on-”

“Can I get an autograph too?”

“Did I say you could speak? Shut your goddamn mouth,” the officer yells at you and you pout, flinching when he reaches for you.

“What happened? The museum, there was an event, right?” Namjoon tries to remain calm, grabbing the officer’s attention again, purposely making sure he doesn’t touch you. Namjoon had been preoccupied, distracted by an accident that had nothing to do with your plans but worked in your favor, a family that needed urgent medical attention after a car crash, as RM was quicker than any ambulance and stronger than the jaws of life, he saved them just in time.

“These two lunatics crashed it.” He gestures to you and Hoseok, sitting handcuffed on the ground, your dress torn at the slit and across the collar at your resisted arrest and Hoseok with a busted lip. “Not only that, once they realized they were cornered they defaced everything with paint-”

“It was actually gazpacho,” you interject.

“Yeah yeah, and that’s called a felony charge,” he reminds you and you roll your eyes. “His name is Daniel, you can put Danny, he’d love that.” He hands Namjoon a piece of paper. “You can take this one,” he tells his partner, pointing at Hoseok, “I’ll take her in.”

The officer looks down at you, eyes zoning in on your cleavage, and Hoseok makes himself heavy on purpose when his partner grabs at him, unwilling to leave you alone. You try to wrap your legs around his calf when he is pulled away, neither of you able to grab on to each other with your hands handcuffed.

“Goddammit!” the officer yanks you up by the elbow causing you to cry out in pain. Namjoon holds you up, unable to stop himself from interfering.  “Don’t worry, RM, I got it handled,” the officer says, trying to grab you again. “That’s two counts resisting arrest already,” he yells in your ear,  “Do you want to add a third?!”

“Why yes, officer, I would,” you mock, trying to twist your arm out of his hold.

You scream as he pushes you against the side of his patrol car.

Namjoon’s chest feels tight, his teeth hurting from how hard he’s clenching his jaw. 

Again RM steps in, “Shouldn’t you be more gentle on her-”

“She’s overreacting, these girls love to cry crocodile tears, don’t fall for it,” he dismisses. You cry louder, rattling the superhero to his core.

The officer shoves you in the back of his vehicle, slamming the door shut, and you stomp your heel into his window, cracking it on impact, something that should have been physically impossible to do on bullet proof glass, but remarkably easy with your powers.

“What the hell! Crazy bitch,” he mutters under his breath. “That's another charge! Vandalism to a police vehicle!” he bangs on the window with his fist, cursing.

“I should go with you, in case something goes wrong,” Namjoon hands back his hastily scribbled signature.

“What could go wrong?” he laughs. “Nah, it’s gonna take me some time,” Namjoon tries not to think the worst when the officer mumbles out a convoluted excuse, “Anyways, you can fly! What wouldn’t I give to be able to fly-”

“I’ll follow behind your car.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he says curtly. “Like I said, we’re good here, RM. You wouldn’t want people to suspect anything like tampering with police proceedings, right?” The officer makes it a point to emphasize his thinly veiled threat. You sit up when he starts the car, looking at the superhero with pleading eyes.

Of course Namjoon followed you.

The superhero stayed high in the air, right above the police cruiser.

Namjoon knew you could get out of this. So why weren’t you! You were really going to let yourself get caught just like you told him? Fuck, why were you letting it really happen?

Namjoon, an annual pass holder to the museum, had built a nice friendship with many of the older women curators as such a regular visitor. So they would sometimes offer him discounted tickets on nights like tonight where he could get to see newly curated artwork before the general public, an opportunity the art enthusiast could rarely pass up on, even if the tickets did cost a small fortune.

Namjoon had, however, not anticipated this kind of event would be taken over by V and he surely had not expected the sight of you. But you had a knack for dropping back into his life and leaving him reeling. You had a knack for confusing him too, making him question himself and his actions over and over again, and all those agonizing questions he had were about to be answered...

-

Namjoon tails the police cruiser turns down an alley, watching as the headlights turns off and the engine stops as he parks.

You could escape now, it would be the perfect time, Namjoon thinks. The driver door opens and the officer circles the vehicle, pulling out his firearm.

You need to escape, you have to. This wasn’t about the paintings anymore, this was wrong. 

Jungkook was going to come, right? Hop you away from punishment like he always did. Where was he? Or any one of them? 

They should be protecting you! Namjoon didn’t think he could despise V any more, but the fact that he couldn’t even properly safeguard you when his plans went awry made Namjoon’s blood boil.

Yet, he found himself desperately wishing Taehyung would reveal himself.

Right now. Right now!

Namjoon clenches his fist.

He watches as the officer opens the back door, pistol aimed right at you, crawling into the backseat and on top of you.

---

You wash Namjoon’s hands under cold water silently until the bleeding stops.

“I was going to kill him.”

“No, you weren’t,” you remind him, holding his hand as you work to heal his knuckles. 

“If you hadn’t stopped me-”

“I didn’t do much,” you laugh solemnly.

“I should...turn myself in,” Namjoon says dejectedly.

“Are you crazy? So you can go to jail with every criminal you put away?! Everyone will know your identity, what if they go after your family- No, if you even dare try something so stupid, then I’ll…run a rampage in the city!” you threaten, serious even if it sounded ridiculous.

Namjoon looks up at you, eyes softening. “We have to tell the Chief of Police. They should know…what he was going to do to you…” Namjoon couldn’t even say it, disgusted all over again, his anger rising.

“You saved me before he did,” you mumble. “They protect their own, you know that,” you sigh, “If we do that I’ll just end up getting arrested again, probably by one of his friends. Don’t worry, Joon. Jin will get to him, alter his memories so we don’t have to deal with them again, he’s gotten pretty good at it.”

Seokjin...Namjoon felt a bitter taste in his mouth that it was Jin who was going to deal with that bastard and not himself. You can see the torment raging in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you...do something?”

You flick him on the forehead. “You know, if I didn’t have my powers-”

“You do, you do! You could have-”

“What? Escaped? Were you planning on capturing me to hand me over to the police yourself?” you try to lighten the mood.

Joon rests his head on your shoulder. “...I would have let you go.” Namjoon scoffs, sighing. “You...weaken me. I was going to kill him, I-I still...” Namjoon has to calm down, he has to be better. But all he could think about was seeing that officer over you, rage filling inside him so quickly he reacted before even thinking. He yanked the door off its hinges and grabbed the officer with all intent to stop him from ever doing that to anyone ever again. 

There was so much blood.

You lean your head against his. “I’m sorry. The way things are…going against them, it doesn't make you a bad person. Sometimes justice is unlawful…”

Namjoon didn’t know what to say.

“Joon?”

“Yeah?”

You pause. “Now…can you try to understand…why…I…” you take a deep breath, “...why I killed The Mayor? He was going to do something…horrible to you. How could I not protect you? Can’t you forgive me? Please?”

“And everything else you’ve done since then?” Namjoon can’t meet your eyes, clenching his jaw. 

“I admit, yes, I’ve made some…bad decisions since then. Killing the Mayor was not one of them.”

You admitted your wrongdoings, that was something Namjoon could cling to for now. “You can use my shower, to clean up.” he whispers, looking down at your torn dress. “I’ll bring you one of my shirts.”

“Can I ask a um favor?” You look around his small bathroom, thinking about the last time you had been in his home, feeling the pain in your chest become sharper. 

“I don’t want him to be the last person who kissed me, so-” Namjoon pounds his fist on the bathroom sink, breaking the marble. “Yah!” You grab his hand again. “I just fixed your hand!”

He hugs you close to him, letting the scent of you calm him down. The smell of your hair, the remnants of your lotion, even the salty scent of your unwashed skin, he likes. He almost resists when you pull his head away, not wanting to stop breathing you in.

He looks into your pleading eyes, your awaiting lips, your abated breath, you have always been his weakness.

His mouth captures yours, letting his lips mold together with yours. You pull him in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you up into his arms. 

“Don’t stop, please,” you say desperately, wrapping your legs around his torso, reaching for the shower curtain and pulling it open.

He steps inside the bath as you attempt to unzip the back of your torn dress. Namjoon lets you stand, helping you pull the tight dress off your shoulders. You run your lips across his neck, kissing his jaw, his cheek, any part of him you could reach, needing to leave your mark on him.

The water runs red as the showerhead washes the blood off RM’s suit. You reach around his back, removing the offending material. Namjoon kisses your exposed shoulder, the warm water relaxing his tense muscles. He wishes he could forget tonight and remember only this moment with you. 

The more he touches you, the quicker the hopeless feeling in the pit of his stomach is replaced with a desperate ache to have you. Your soft moans extinguish the white hot anger inside of him, simmering it down so he can only feel the heat of your bodies, the steam of the shower and the wetness of your slick mixed with water. 

He caresses your skin, memorizing the lines of your face and the fullness of your cheeks, the specks in your irises. It's been too long, he curses his forgetfulness.  

“Joon?” you look at him worriedly, he looks like he’s about to cry, and you can’t be sure he wasn’t already, wondering if the shower water running down his face might be concealing his tears.

You should feel guilty, you should feel ashamed, but fuck...he’s here with you, you have him, Namjoon was what really made you feel less broken. But if you were breaking him in the process...Fuck, fuck! You’ll find a way to fix it!

He crashes his lips against yours once again, refusing to let you go until you’re both gasping for air.

You laugh when he slips, using your powers to catch him and press his body to yours.

He hikes up your leg, moving quickly, needy and desperate, with an urgency like he needs to prove something to you, to himself. He holds you too tight, ruts into you so hard, fingers digging into your legs painfully, crushing you against tile.

You grind your teeth, keeping your mewls silent as his thick cock stretches you out. He pulls you closer to him, thrusting in so deep and hard you know you’re going to be sore, and you want it to never end.

You hold onto his shoulders, nails digging into his back, hoping you’ll leave marks, something that will make him think of this moment and want you all over again.

You lean your head back, pull him in by the neck, leading his mouth to your throat, tightening against him when he sucks on the sensitive skin under your jaw.

It feels too good, it feels too right, you quiet your worries, you silence your doubts, hold him tighter.

He’s close, you can feel him swell inside you, his head bumping into yours as his rhythm picks up. You moan out his name encouragingly, wanting more.

You’re shivering and feverish all at once, chasing your release with him, goosebumps blooming over your wet skin, the aching inside your chest turning into molten lava, flowing straight down and spreading warmth across your stomach, the place your bodies connect throbbing until you can’t think straight.

You snap into a million burning sparks, all ignited by Namjoon.

He slips again, falling with you. 

“You’re so clumsy,” you smile, holding your bodies up a few centimeters above Namjoon’s tub as the superhero catches his breath, head buried in your neck, his body tightly wrapped around yours.

---

“Y/n!” Seokjin runs to you first, “Are you okay?! What happened?!” He grabs your head, running through your thoughts.

“W-Well…” Aish, you did not want to remember all of that! And you felt a little embarrassed as the rest of the night replayed in your head. Seokjin doesn’t seem too angry or bothered, hugging you close.

“You weren’t there. And the scene we found was…” Jin falters, “troublesome.” 

“Jin went a little ballistic,” Jungkook adds, hugging you next. “We all thought something terrible happened to you.”

“His thoughts…I could barely make sense of them, he seemed to have suffered some brain damage. I thought he…never mind.” 

Hoseok hugs you next. He notices the bruises on your legs, “Shit, he fucking hurt you.” 

“I’m fine! I’m fine,” you stutter, glancing over to Jin who stays quiet, thankfully not outing what really happened to you. “I’ll fix that, okay?” You wince at his busted lip. “Sorry for disappearing,” you say sheepishly, “Were you able to ‘change’ his mind?”

“Well, I don’t think he is going to be doing much on the police force…or much of anything.”

“Damn, what did you do?!”

Seokjin stays uncharacteristically silent. “The guy wouldn’t stop screaming, and Jin wouldn’t let go of him,” Jungkook speaks up. “Taehyung wants me to take you to him. He said as soon as you came back-”

“I can’t go right now. I have to heal Hoseok and also, I don't want to,” you add.

“She’s not going,” Yoongi says, holding your cheek as he looks you over. Jungkook has no choice but to relent.

“I’m fine, nothing actually happened-”

“I watched the cameras...the way RM reacted...Jin was pretty convinced-”

“You think I can’t handle some creep? There was no way he was going to get away with that, okay? So don’t look at me like that…please, it makes me feel pathetic,” you whine, running your hand over his furrowed brow. 

“We have another problem,” Yoongi says, pulling your hand away. 

He holds up his phone. “Oh what the fuck.” 

“It’s every trending topic on local news.”

Fuck! You knew you forgot something. Pictures of Taehyung and you were reposted over and over, with headlines like, ‘The Mayor’s Mysterious New Girlfriend.’ Even pictures of you together at night looking at the lights…

Oh no…

Yoongi scrolls through blurry pictures of you kissing Taehyung. 

Oh shit…

“Can’t you erase it?!”

“If it had been only one or two sites, maybe. Now that it's all over the net, it's impossible.”

“I am not ‘The Mayor’s girlfriend,’” you plead to Yoongi.

But it had always been the plan. Yoongi knew it had always been what Taehyung wanted, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. “You look good together.”

“No we don't! I can’t stand him, I don’t like him, Yoongi.” You wanted to say you liked him instead, but the words caught in your throat at his next question.

“And Namjoon?”

“What?”

“Where were you all night?”

You keep your mouth shut tightly, looking away.

“When Seokjin said Namjoon took you, I was relieved. After what happened to you, I knew you would want to be with Joon most of all. Still, I was hoping you might come back. I was hoping I could have been enough,” he holds your cheek one last time.

You want to scream and cry, ask Yoongi for forgiveness, but you knew you didn’t deserve it. Even ‘I’m sorry’ feels like a hollow gesture. “Don’t look at me like that,” he sighs, mustering up a smile, “It makes me feel pathetic.”

-

‘Vandals Escape after Destroying Museum Full of Art.’

‘Art Under Attack! Environmentalists Ask What is Worth More, Your Future or Your Art?

‘Mysterious Crater found on City Outskirts, Aliens?’

‘Art Gallery Embroiled in Forgery Allegations.’

‘Controversial Energy Bill Set to be Approved.’

‘Mayor Kim’s Mysterious First Lady.’

“When asked about the ‘new woman’ in his life, Mayor Kim acts impartial for the first time in his political career. Though, he hints they may be more than an item, adding next election there might be a first lady by his side.” You read the article to Taehyung, fuming. “Why in the hell would you say something like that? I am never going to be your girlfriend, in fact, I am beginning to despise you.” You want to throw your phone at Taehyung’s head. 

Taehyung crosses his arms, leaning back on his office chair. “I just need you for a couple public appearances here and there, it’s not the end of the world to be seen with me, you know.”

“No-”

“You owe me,” he lowers his voice, anger contained to the few slowly spoken syllables. 

“This is not what I had in mind,” you argue, surprised at his demeanor.

“No, but it is what I want. I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I? You even have my friends worrying about you. Did you enjoy all the attention?”

“Fuck you. It wasn’t like that.”

“I’m not judging! I’m impressed. Your twisted plan worked. You even turned me into the bad guy, everyone is still mad at me for what happened to you,” he says, clicking his tongue. For the first time in years Taehyung feels the tight bonds around his friendships loosening and he doesn’t like it at all. 

Intentionally or not, you had weaved yourself in their lives, loosened the strings yourself. It was your fault and he was going to tie you to him one way or another, and he was going to make it suffocatingly tight, make you depend on him to breathe.

“You are the bad guy,” you whisper.

“Yeah…” he puts his hands in his pockets, looking down at you. “You’re really evil, then. Don’t you think we’d make the perfect pair?” It’s not in a teasing manner. He’s serious. He doesn’t shy away from you, only watches you slowly fall apart in front of him.

Tahyung’s happy encouraging smile makes your insides twist. You ruined a man. In your opinion, he dug his own grave, but you gave him the shovel, placed him atop his plot. But he did it! So why did you feel so dirty?

Were you really the evil one?

Taehyung thought so. The way he looks at you, relishing in the fact you did something so twisted, it makes your skin crawl. Maybe you were where you should be, in the dirt, in Taehyung’s arms.

“I changed the plan for you, y/n. I would do anything for you.”

“No...you knew this would happen, that’s why you let me go with Joon, right?” Fuck, it had been your idea, so why did it not feel like you had any control?

His lips on the crook of your neck made you feel helpless. 

When Taehyung explained the plan to you, you saw an opportunity. Steal the paintings, get arrested, escape before reaching the police station. Taehyung told you Namjoon would be in attendance.

Taehyung wanted you to distract him. You resented becoming the decoy. You asked the question, “What if RM becomes my escape?” It intrigued Taehyung, so you continued. Taehyung hated RM’s annoying altruism, you also wanted Namjoon to make a selfish decision, one for you, two birds struck with one stone. “Find me a cop with a history...”

You were never in any real danger, you could have stopped him yourself easily, but you begged Taehyung to make sure the others left you alone. He made them believe it was his mistake, a miscommunication between him and you. 

You knew Namjoon would free you if he had a good reason. Was it so bad to want him to see how not everything can be solved by the books? If he could just understand that, understand where you were coming from…

Hoseok was hurt because of you, you still feel guilty about it. Namjoon and Seokjin almost killed a man because of you! Sure, that man ultimately decided to abuse his power over you, but you egged him on in the back seat, did everything you could to make him snap. You wanted him to snap.

You wanted destruction.

And perhaps some part of you deep, deep down wanted Namjoon to kill for you like you did for him. You just missed him so damn much, felt so small and unsure of your place in his heart. But in the end you stopped him, you couldn’t let him become like you, ignoring that horribleness growing inside of you.  

“Night events only,” you concede. Grabbing him by the collar, you add, “Don’t expect me to be on your damn campaign trail.”

V smirks. “That’s my girl.”

---

IT'S GETTING MESSY. Team V or Team RM?

#taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #Taehyung smut #namjoon smut #bts fantasy au #bts superhero au #bts supernatural au #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon angst #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x you #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 4

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 4: I don't trust trees. They're shady.

Pestilence was making her way through the countryside again, and it rather dampened Crowley's mood. The bloody blasted plague was sweeping through England, making it difficult and depressing to travel even for a demon who wasn't able to contract human diseases, since nobody but him knew that and revealing otherwise was likely to get him discorporated. There was also the matter of the damned (literally) horse, a great hulking black stallion that despised Crowley and was despised in return. Blackie had tried to throw Crowley twice in the last hour, and had only failed because Crowley had miracled himself to the saddle.

He had to go tempt someone in Hull, of all the godforsaken places. Surely just living in Hull was punishment enough; no need to bring eternity into it.

Since he was heading north anyway, he figured he might try to make it over to see how Manchester was coming along this decade, and since that made an extended trip, he checked to see if Aziraphale needed him to pick up anything while he was out.

"Ah, a new set of orders just arrived for me this morning!" Aziraphale had said, bustling over to his desk. "Well, let's see. I've a spot of divine ecstasy to deliver in Hull from the last set; I've been putting it off but you know the poor lady must deserve it: living in Hull is trial enough for the soul. Hmm, Plymouth--ah, American Plymouth rather--, Swansea, Geneva... oh, here, there's one in Lincolnshire as well, you'll like this one, dear. 'Divine inspiration to more accurate human understanding of the underlying laws of the universe," that's much more your area than mine I should think, natural sciences and all that."

It was indeed much more Crowley's area; he liked hanging out with scientists and philosophers, the kind of humans who asked clever questions about how the universe worked and why. Aziraphale always gave him the good divine inspirations, cloaking it in ignorance of the physical laws that had always been second-nature to Crowley, though Crowley knew Aziraphale had enough understanding to carry them out himself. It was one of the reasons the Arrangement worked so well, he thought; they did each other little favors like this, gave each other jobs that were a bit fun.

And so here Crowley was, fighting with a horrible horse in the middle of nowhere during a plague year looking for a sheep farm. This part was not fun. This part, to be very clear, totally sucked.

Thankfully, Aziraphale had already interpreted Heaven's shaky-at-best approximations at where things on Earth were actually located, and given Crowley an address and a decent map of the area, so he located the sheep farm -- Woolsthorpe Manor, the map said -- with little difficulty aside from Blackie's enmity and a general sense of unease and malaise in the air.

He dismounted, setting Blackie to graze and to behave himself under threat of being sold for meat and glue, and took a moment to case the place. Sheep and pastures; biggish house and a bunch of sheds; orchard with some fruit trees. Aziraphale's orders hadn't been very specific about how the intervention should be achieved, but there'd been some balderdash about natural beauty and the circular nature of God's Plan For Life On Earth, and Crowley noticed an apple tree on the edge of the orchard, near to a window; he bookmarked that thought.

The target was called "Yitzhak the Lizard" in Aziraphale's orders, so he and Crowley supposed he was most likely called Isaac, but the family living at Woolsthorpe Manor was called Ayscough. Crowley suspected it would take a bit of detective work to figure out which servant Isaac was, and was still deciding how to approach when a young man in his mid-twenties jumpscared him.

Introduced himself as Isaac Newton, too, so that solved that.

Using just a touch of a glamour to make his presence seem a bit more natural and less like a potential vector of disease, Crowley chatted with the young man for a good while. Isaac was the grandson of the widow Ayscough, a student at Trinity College, sent home due to the plague, interested in optics and the laws of motion and, more than anything else in the world, mathematics. He showed Crowley his notebook full of notations, letters with little dots over them equaling other letters, which Crowley couldn't follow, and explained the logic of it, which Crowley could. Heaven, he thought, had wanted Aziraphale to arrange a divine intervention into Isaac's mathematics, but Isaac had that well in hand already: it was well beyond what anyone else on Earth had thought up, and he was still a student.

As evening drew in, young Isaac invited Crowley to supper and shelter for the night, which he accepted politely, and to board Blackie in the stables, which he accepted with vicious glee. Making Blackie someone else's problem for a bit always put a little varnish on their souls while also relieving him of needing to lift a finger or deal with the damn horse.

As they passed through the orchard, Isaac ran his hand through the leaves of low-lying branches. A gardener yelled across the field not to disturb the apples, to which the young man just smiled.

Well. Crowley knew a thing or two about apples and Plans, and the kid had wondered why things move the way they do.

As they passed under a lovely straight Flower of Kent, Isaac Newton disturbed the leaves and a large, green, perfectly round apple miraculously imbued with insight into the observation that "things fall down" fell out of the tree and smacked into his skull.

As he stopped to rub his head while Crowley tried not to laugh at him, the young man asked: "I wonder how far an apple could fall? Not just from the tree, that is, but why not from as high as the moon?"

Crowley just smiled enigmatically, which Isaac took as encouragement, and mentally began drafting a memo for Aziraphale to send back up to Home Office.

---

Author's note:

Everything's as close to accurate to real life Isaac Newton and Woolsthorpe Manor as I could get it, except his personality (which I understand was curmudgeonly in his old age, but I have no idea about him as a youth) and the fact that he didn't *actually* have an apple fall on his head, probably. 1666 was indeed the year he first started developing both calculus and the law of gravitation.

I'm sorry for picking on Hull! I'm sure it's a lovely city. I chose it as the place Crowley was going for a temptation (and a divine ecstasy) because that's the place specifically called out as an example of the arrangement in the book, and so is Crowley getting free reign over Manchester (page 50 in my paperback). And hey, if he's already going north....

The actual pun didn't quite make it in, but hey! Trees!

#my writing #do it with style events #highway to pail #crowley #crowley good omens #good omens #good omens fanfiction #the arrangement #isaac newton