#and today i was like oh what actual date would graduation be? among other things. so i went to the school's facebook and my GOD do they

[infiniteseriesofhalfways]

Of all the towns in Florida I could have based this story on, I picked the one whose High School posts to Facebook about every two days.

[1kook]

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags;  jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either  the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away.  His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

Copyright © August 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[hehebread]

[BKDK] Izuku keeps mentioning a Kacchan to reporters and they think that's his gf

this was a request on twt that i had way too much fun writing. warning for suggestive language!

--

“And is there…. a special person….or a group of people you would like to thank on air today? Anyone who inspired you? Anyone you would attribute your success to? An image of victory per say?”

Izuku’s eyes glimmer as the bright lights of the studio reflect on his irises. “Oh!” He jumps in his seat, his perfectly- coiffed curls bouncing as he nods frantically to the show’s host. “Yes! Yes!” Leaning forward with his hands on his leg, the camera zooms in on his face where the blush is painting his cheeks. “I wouldn’t be the hero I am today if it wasn’t for Kacchan!”

And it’s as if an earthquake alert dropped on the talk show. The host grows this devious grin on his face as he turns to the camera team and says, “Well, well, well, behind every great man is a woman after all.”

Izuku isn’t quite sure why the host is bringing his mother into this since the interview is reaching its end and he has already discussed her influence in detail very early on, but he doesn’t get a chance to ponder.

The host, Yamaguchi-san, leans into Izuku’s space with renowned interest and an interesting glint in his eyes. Izuku feels himself sweating in his oversized maroon-striped suit.

“So, Midoriya-san, Hero Deku, Rising Symbol of Equity and Hope, can you tell us more about … Kacchan?” His voice goes higher at the last syllable, almost sing songs, and Izuku is not sure if he should be worried or not, but he won’t pass an opportunity to gush about Kacchan!

“Ah, Kacchan is very … confident, hardworking, strong, and smart. Kacchan is a hero who knows how to lead a team and perform under pressure, an inspiration to both myself and our entire graduating class, and a”—Izuku can feel the heat rise in his face as he tries to hide in his colour— “a shining star who was closer to me than All Might!”

The host makes a loud ‘AWWW’ noise at the same time as the small audience in the studio. “My, my! Sounds like Kacchan is very important to Hero Deku! Don’t be shy! Tell us more! Is there a physical description to go with your precious person?”

“Ahm!” Izuku fiddles with his fingers as he avoids the gazes on him. There a long beat of silence before he manages to say, “Muscles….Blonde…..Sharp eyes….” With a vague gesture to his middle section, he mumbles, barely audible, “Big, ugh…..” Heart.

“OOOOOOOOOH!” The host goes wild and so does the audience. “So are we talking Hiromi Oshima type big or maybe Rio Natsume, or aaaah Aki Hoshino even ….?”

Izuku feels his ears ring in humiliation as he tries to process what they’re talking about. Something Kacchan has in common with all these beautiful women is his big successful career so Izuku nods. “Yes!” Then, a thought occurs and he rises in his chair. “Even bigger!”

After all, Kacchan’s net worth is higher than these ladies.

“BIGGER?”

“The biggest!”

“Oh my god!” The host is losing his mind now! “And is it … natural? Or did Kacchan get a little help from professionals?”

“No, no, no! Kacchan was a natural ever since we were in school together!” Izuku’s eyes shine with a fire to defend his childhood best friend, no longer trying to hide in his big suit. “No one helped Kacchan get this big!”

“That’s … amazing!” The host shakes his head in both awe and disbelief. “Now we want to see Kacchan in action! When the hero works around the city, defeating villains, does the size get in the way?”

Does Kacchan’s fame get in the way of his work? “Sometimes,” Izuku muses, “But Kacchan never lets the restless and perky nuisances stop him, y’know. With a little shake from his hands, and a few colourful words of wisdoms, nothing gets in the way!” Izuku laughs as he remembers Kacchan’s way of dismissing fans and reporters alike.

“Wow!”

“Of course, there are times where Kacchan’s big firm moulds become springy and hard to control, but I have yet to see an instance where that has been a major issue. ”

Kacchan is still having some adjustment problems with his new hero costume, particularly his grenade mould, but that’s as far as distractions go.

“Does Kacchan not use support?”

“Uhm, only when it’s a dire situation! Sometimes I’m even allowed to provide assistance!”

“You must be very lucky…”

“I am! It feels … exciting and … very special! Kacchan doesn’t trust just anyone, y’know! I can never quite get used to the trust we built together. We are one unit working together.”

“Do you use your hands…. Or something else?”

“Oh, hands! Yes! But anything works really! Whatever Kacchan is comfortable with and needs at the time. Black Whip, combo moves, an iron grip...”

The host furrow his brows and seems to be considering Izuku’s answer before he opens his mouth again. “Uhm, never mind.” He then turns to the camera, smile back on. “Our time is almost running out! Thank you, hero Deku for your time! We look forward to seeing you again in the big screen!”

--

The next day, Izuku wakes up to the headline: Hero Deku And His Mysterious Busty New Girlfriend: The Beautiful and Spunky Kacchan!

He’s doomed

--

He sees Kacchan early the next day.

Having spent the morning talking to tabloids and the host show agents about the misunderstanding and whether or not it was possible to take down the episode at least, Izuku slumps his head on his desk in defeat.

Oh, this is very bad.

He starts thumping his forehead on the wood in sync with the bleeps noises in the phone, already planning his funeral in his head.

Okay, so it seems the suspense around this girlfriend is raking up his popularity, but god, at what cost.

“Nerd, we need to talk.”

Izuku’s soul near flies to the roof at the sound of the door to his office slamming close. Fuckfuckfuck.

Kacchan stands before him with his hand on his hip, teeth snarled and looking ready to tear his flesh open. Oh, this is going to be fun!

After flashing a haughty glare at the glass door to scare away the nosy friends hanging about, Kacchan continues, “About the interview.”

Of course! Yes! His final hour is approaching. “Haahahaha, what about it?” Izuku feels his undershirt cling to his torso, sweat collecting on his face. He directs a shaky hand to a nearby chair. “Feel free to take a seat, Kacchan! You want me to get you anything? Water, tissues, uhm, a knife, a body sized bag, or uhhh, a shovel? I think I have some spare sheets of paper if you’d like to give me a chance to—“

“So…” Kacchan starts.

“PLEASE TELL MY MUM I LOVE HER!”

“…this Kacchan, huh?” Having completely ignored every single word Izuku just said, Kacchan crosses his arms and scowls. “Is she strong? How come I never heard about her before? Since when did you start dating this gravure idol and pro hero, huh?”

“Wha—?”

“So, you just go around giving everyone pretty nicknames now?” Kacchan snorts and his expression darkens before he slams his hands on Izuku’s desk. He looks at Izuku from under his chin, and Izuku swear he can see flames behind his eyes. He growls, “What’s her actual name?”

An alarm bell rings in Izuku’s ears and he stutters, “Ka— Ka— Kat— Katsuko! Bakugan Katsuko…….”

Kacchan’s expression doesn’t change and Izuku feels his heart leap to his throat. God, Kacchan is gonna call his bluff at any minute now. He’s going to reject him then he’s going to break his heart and his bones.

“What’s she like?”

Kacchan shifts forward slightly and Izuku is just know noticing the ample cleavage in clear view. Right there. In front of Izuku’s face. “Uhm. Ah, she’s very, ugh, im- pec— impeccable!! And strong! Muscl— mature!! Breasty too – I mean, pretty! PRETTY!” Izuku bites his tongue then swallows thickly. “Beautiful, actually!” Lifting his gaze to meet Kacchan, he whispers, “Gorgeous. Just the most amazing person in my life.”

Kacchan is staring intently with his sharp red eyes, and Izuku feels his chest swell with confidence he never had before. “Kacchan is my inspiration, and I just … love … Kacchan so much. I wish I had the courage to tell him— um, her that.”

“Are you two serious?” Kacchan asks, impassive but there is silent rage hiding behind his words.

Something flashes quickly through Kacchan’s eyes before he narrows them. It takes Izuku a second to recognise that it’s /hurt/ and then he realise what he has just done.

“No, no, no!” Izuku backtracks immediately. “I don’t even know her that well! In fact, she kinda smells and definitely has sweating problem.” Izuku needs to do damage control and come clean NOW. “You know what? I will call her and break up with her right now. Ha ha ha.”

What the hell is he saying? Who is he going to call?

Kacchan stands up while Izuku fumbles with his phone. “Don’t be a dick,” he says, before he heads to the door.

Izuku jumps from his chair and is ready to chase after him when Kacchan stops him. “How big?”

“Huh?”

“You said Bakugan was big.”

Ah, yes, he did. Tragically.

“Um, y’know just…” Izuku motions with his hands like he’s moulding two doughballs, palms up and fingers wiggling because he’s lost control of his life once he accepted his funeral date, but that’s not even happening anymore so what is he doing really.

He then makes am hourglass shape in the air and belatedly realises that he’s just outlining Kacchan’s shape in front of him. Izuku retreats his hands and puts them behind his back in shame.

Kacchan is looking at him funny. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Does she shoot aerial bomb or something? Is that a combat-style quirk?”

Izuku blinks.

Kacchan just sneers and turns around.

“Whatever. I’m doing a photoshoot this afternoon. The Sekushī clothing line is dropping a new summer set and they asked me to model.”

“Se- Sekushi?? You mean, like—” Izuku feels his face go impossibly red. “You’re saying that, you’re going to wear, like…..” his voice goes down to a whisper when he says “…..a b-b-b-b-b-bikini?”

“Swimwear,” Kacchan turns to say over his shoulder, “Among other things.”

The sexy smirk he sends Izuku’s way is doing very, very weird things to Izuku’s body and imagination, things too inappropriate to describe in a work setting.

Kacchan leaves but not without offering the most dangerous challenge to Izuku’s mental wellbeing. “Feel free to drop in.”

Oh, he absolutely will.

“Bring Bakugon.”

Oh, he absolutely will not.

Actually….

Maybe, he will.

Kacchan is going to ruin Izuku

[neonponders]

This isn’t what @memes-saved-me had in mind for this post but lol (read their tags, they’re delightful) 

Thinking about a younger Billy and an older Steve today ✨

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

Billy scratched at the hair on his nape. He wanted to grow it out; really had always wanted long hair. And now, as he peered at the other sophomores trying to fluff themselves bigger to match the juniors and seniors, he just might.

Long hair was in. Mullets, rock star manes, extensions - even the opposite. Women with buzz cuts and pixie faux hawks. Pleasant little surprises in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy might finally indulge in that.

Plenty in this town was backwards as all hell. Girls wearing white stockings like it was the fifties. Boys and girls alike clearly letting having learned hair styling from their out-of-date parents. Two girls with beehives sat in his English class.

But it was fine, because there was plenty of present-day styling, and Billy wouldn’t get any shit at home for matching his peers.

Cherry Lane. The most backwards spot in Indiana.

But that’s okay, too, because small town people need occupations. Parties.

A cool senior with teased, black hair walked right up to him and handed him a neon orange sheet of paper. He saw others holding similar invitations all day. 

Party on Friday night. Address, dress code, and everything.

Caught him by surprise, that a dress code would be needed for one of these things, but the invitation just said ~casual attire~ and someone in his Advanced Biology class told him that Tina hosts the best shin digs, often with costume themes.

So he went. The late summer evening was still humid as all hell, making the party split between the massive house and the matching yard a convenient way to start a weekend.

He’d had alcohol before. Enough to know he preferred tequila drinks over vodka and gin, but the safest way to wake up the next day was to just stick to beer. No matter how bitter or sharply carbonated some of it was made.

Maybe that’s why he heard people hollering about King Steve.

Keg stands weren’t original to Hawkins, but Billy preferred them next to a bonfire on a beach. But people were really yelling for this king to do the damn thing - 

“Steve, why are you even here? You graduated in May,” Tina’s voice cut through the din.

“I live down the street! You really think you’re making this much noise without me noticing? And all of you shut the hell up! I’ll do a keg stand the day one of you dip shits can actually beat my record.”

Another surprise:

Steve Harrington.

Billy’s dumb luck had him three years behind, so he couldn’t look at that face in the hallways. Sit behind that head of glossy, bouncy hair in European History. He still lived in town, apparently. Right down the street. Billy asked around and discovered he worked at the mall and attended the community college -

“Heard you been asking about me.”

Billy stared wide-eyed over his beer. He recovered quickly, but not before Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, smug. That hair was really distracting.

These people really gossip about everything.

“I didn’t think anybody actually went by a title like that.”

“I didn’t put it on my resume, that’s for sure.” Steve’s smirk grew into a smile. Christ, the guy really had that Indiana, home town handsome thing to his face.

That was dangerous. Billy’s gut told him so, the way it bruised like someone had poked it. And wanted to be poked again.

“Let’s do this properly. Steve.” He held his hand out.

It wasn’t queer to accept a handshake. “Billy,” he replied.

“Hargrove?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed involuntarily, releasing Steve’s large hand. His weight shifted over his feet. “Everybody knows everything here.”

“Not everything,” Steve said. His voice sounded...reassuring? But the way his eyes blinked...and a darkness slipped behind his eyes like a curtain. Adults liked to call it maturity. Wisdom beyond years. Billy called it ghosts. Everyone had ghosts behind their eyes. But...he had a hard time imagining what ghosts this pretty senior in suburban America would already have.

Then again, Billy knew better.

Except, as the party progressed and the weekend flowed into a new week, Billy really couldn’t imagine what made Steve slouch a little, and what made his eyes fade out of a conversation. Billy probably should have put more attention into how much he’d begun seeking the guy out.

He worked in the ice cream parlor at the mall. The uniform was equal measures ridiculous and hilarious, but his coworker was cool as hell. Robin. Not Steve’s girlfriend, even though they carpooled to work and community college.

Steve’s house proved just as luxurious as Tina’s, with a pool to boot. A house which supposedly stayed empty more often than it hosted its own family. Steve notoriously didn’t host parties, which....seemed uniquely odd.

Apart from Billy visiting the ice cream shop, it seemed Steve’s only other visitors were high school freshman. Which was weird. That’s weird, right? Then again, Billy was ball and chained to eight hours a day, five days a week to high school. There was plenty of time for Steve to be with friends his own age.

Except he showed up at the next party on Halloween.

Tina’s house boasted a surprising number of Hawkins graduated seniors, forcing the party all the way out onto the street.

Just like before, Steve manifested beside Billy, announcing himself with fingertips brushing his slowly growing, weak little mullet. “Growing that out?”

Steve’s already heavy eyelids were heavier with alcohol. Billy had his customary cup of beer, but his cheeks flushed for a different reason. He had to rub the back of his neck to make the tickle stop.

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll touch my shoulders next year.”

“Have you trimmed it?”

Billy frowned at him. He’d heard some things come out of Steve’s mouth that were endearing in a ‘bless his heart’ kind of way, and this was among them. “No, that defeats the point of making it longer.”

Steve shook his head and waved for him to follow. “Come here. I’ll trim it.”

“You’re not cutting my hair,” Billy scoffed. And followed.

Upstairs.

Billy did his best not to look around the living room; to see any eyes apart from the ones he imagined on his backside. He followed at a leisurely pace. Not eager to be with King Harrington anywhere...

The guy walked right into the closed master bedroom. Billy stood outside of it, stunned at his audacity and the fact that no one was inside it already - 

“You coming?”

Billy’s not a coward -

Actually he is. But he’s an overeager sophomore with a dangerous crush even more.

Steve dug through the master bathroom’s drawers until he found a pair of scissors in their own case. “Sit on the tub.”

By tub, he meant jacuzzi edge. Billy perched. Steve gripped his shoulder to step into the tub with a comb that smelled of foreign hair product and aftershave. Billy’s nose wrinkled. “Wash that first.”

Then he jumped at the tub faucet turning on right beside his ass. Steve laughed. “Chill out. I’m washing it.”

Billy settled with a disgruntled shake of his head. “My hair is curly. You’re not supposed to brush it at all.”

“You’re in the hands of The Hair Harrington, sweetheart. Just relax.”

His shoulders sagged right underneath the weight of sweetheart.

I’m so screwed - 

Of all people to show up in the doorway, Robin from Scoops showed up with an energy that insinuated more sobriety than the guy wielding scissors.

Her mouth hung open like she had come with something to say, but then she sputtered through laughter. “Oh shit. Are you consenting to this?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “If he cuts my ear, I’m beating his ass.”

“I’d appreciate more faith from you, Buckley. I cut your bangs for you.”

Billy chirped, “Really?” admittedly feeling a bit better.

Steve intercepted with the order, “Are you gonna play music or what? I’m so tired of Tina’s music.”

That’s how Billy wound up in a bathroom with college freshmen trimming his ends and styling his hair while Steve and Robin shout-sang to Whitney Houston.

It was great.

Steve curled the top of his hair so he had ringlets falling over his bold brows. Steve, who had his hands all over Billy’s head until he washed the hair down the drain and filled the tub for a bubble bath. Billy scrutinized himself with a handheld mirror until Steve wrapped his arms around him and they tumbled backward into the wet landing.

Tina was hardly pleased to find the three of them making a mess of the jacuzzi, but she sassed a quick thank you for warding off people trying to fuck in her parents’ bed. Billy didn’t have words; only laughter at Robin putting her hair into a wet mohawk and Steve piling bubbles onto his head.

Steve insisted they go back to his house afterward. “It’s November and we’re soaked. Your car will be fine. I can come back and park it in my driveway if you’re that worried.”

That wasn’t the problem.

“It’s fine that your parents are never home, but mine will only recently lifted my curfew for good behavior.”

Somehow, he convinced Steve and Robin to drive him back to his house, at the expense of letting them change at Steve’s first. Billy had his eyes on a beautiful Camaro and was just a few more months of allowance and part time jobs away from having her.

It was his first time in Steve’s house. He had to admit, he preferred Tina’s layout and decor, but he got to wander around. He saw Robin use one of the guest rooms. He saw Steve’s....incredibly boring room. And said as much.

“A prison cell has more personality.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Are you ready to go?”

It wasn’t until Billy lay in his own bed that those words tumbled through his brain. His fingertips moved through his still-styled hair. It felt better with those dead ends gone. Steve did a good job. Steve liked Whitney Houston and Blondie and a little of everything, really. Steve cared about his appearance enough to be a self-taught stylist.

Steve didn’t have a lot of furniture in his room. Clutter on the dresser and desk, sure, but all of it monochrome or neutral colors. Steve who had an old BMW, house, and surely a bank account to match, but didn’t buy anything in excess. Like he wasn’t allowed to, or something. Billy indulged every scent he got on things he wanted, but Steve didn’t.

Steve had a nailed bat in his trunk. Billy heard it rolling around on their way back to his house, and finally bent over to look under the seats and saw it.

Steve was a walking contradiction. A contradiction who smelled good but didn’t say much when Billy and Robin talked about history. Who started giving Billy free ice cream but never asked about Billy’s stepsister. Who gave Billy rides and gave him the hookup to the high-paying neighbors of Loch Nora for mowed lawns and dogs walked.

Steve helped him get his car sooner than he would’ve otherwise but didn’t ask for anything in return.

Steve, who was always available for a good time, but looked sad when left with his thoughts.

Billy didn’t take well to not being the center of attention. He’d grown up with an interrogation lamp over his head, and sought positive interaction everywhere else. He got so much of it from Steve, that the occasions where Steve bumped against him...refused him, or ignored him, or reminded Billy that he was a rinky dink sophomore lit a match in his belly. And he’d swallowed gasoline for too much of his life.

“That’s something a virgin says.”

Billy couldn’t even remember what he’d just said. He was already, instantly, seeing the glow of embers on the fringe of his vision. “Excuse me?”

Steve shrugged as he got up from his couch. “It’s whatever. It’s fine. Just showing your hand, is all.”

Billy couldn’t believe it. Steve was either the biggest idiot in Hawkins - which he knew wasn’t true considering there was a real cesspool that smoked underneath the bleachers - or he was so far in denial that Billy had a whole new reason to be pissed.

An involuntary sound left Steve when Billy came up behind him and pushed him against the wall underneath the stairs.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Billy wasn’t some cute sophomore. He stood toe to toe with Steve, barely an inch shorter. If this is what it took for Steve to realize that, fine.

To realize that Billy wasn’t some teenager scared shitless of a girls’ bra -

Steve regained his footing, and closed the distance between their mouths. It was small, soft, and brief. Rationality should have made Billy step away. Punch him, maybe. But Billy wasn’t rational. His shock held him statuesque, barely breathing while Steve moved a hand to cradle the side of his head and neck -

A sound left Billy this time, as Steve angled his mouth over Billy’s. Where he learned Billy was scared, so scared of Steve. His body dashed rationality against the wall and kissed him back tentatively, and then earnestly, just trying to keep up until Steve’s other hand framed him in. As Steve pushed against him until Billy walked backwards to have himself pressed against the wall.

He felt drunk as his hands let go of Steve’s shirt to hold onto the curvature of his ribs. He panted while Steve kissed his throat and washed Billy’s senses with his warm, sweet fragrance; his hair brushing Billy’s face and inspiring him to turn his face into Steve’s scalp. Inhale him into his lungs.

Billy didn’t know what game they were playing. But Steve outplayed him.

[lostnct23]

Noona?

Pairing: ? x Reader Word count: 2974

Summary: You are the new SM staff whom other members can’t seem to shy away from your charm. But there’s one person who’s more than eager to get you all for himself.

Warning: Slow burn. Possesiveness. Suggestive Disclaimer: This is a pure fiction. There’s is no way that the portrayal of the artist’s character mirrors the artist’s actual true self A/N: Please do not repost this other on social media platform without the consent of the author. Feedbacks are always appreciated and if you have any request or scenarios in mind, I’d be more than willing to entertain your ideas. 

All rights reserved.

*****************************************

Recently, there has been this SM staff who suddenly became famous among to other staffs. It’s no secret that she’s been the content of the mundane talk of other people within the vicinity. Well for one, it’s because she was extremely talented, new, graduate from abroad and the most infamous one was because, for once, Jisung the ever-shy boy around girls is very comfortable around you. He’s not even very subtle at hiding his adoration towards you.

Ever since you started working in the company it was no surprise that you were extremely approachable despite the fact that you were extremely shy at first. People really adore you for your sincere nature and your genuine heart. That’s why it’s not even a mystery why the NCT maknae was so drawn towards you, however, with that being said, so does the other NCT members.

At first, it was Johnny who was very blatant at showing that he found you adorable, and considering that both of you are very familiar with what is it like to live abroad you quickly click and become comfortable with each other. Then there’s Jaehyun who has his ways of charming people towards him, and then Mark Lee who was unquestionably very friendly and comfortable to be around. Despite the fact that many people swarm their way towards you, you are good at keeping your safe distance, never going beyond what is considered unprofessional which is why you perplexed one person in particular.

He noticed how despite being friendly and tending to other people, you have your subtle way of putting lines between you and them. It’s like you can read other people’s intentions without making them uncomfortable of knowing what was their agenda, that’s why he kept a safe distance from you. Not because he doesn’t want to be close to you, but because he wanted to be able to pass through the walls that you built around you.

With that being said, he just quietly observe from afar, silently studying what he should do, what were these people doing wrong, why despite their attempt you still have that tall wall around you, how should he do things right to win your favor without a single restraint as you have with others.

“Noona!” the maknae exclaimed after seeing you emerged from the curtain behind, today you were assigned as their photographer, it was one of SM’s marketing strategies for their upcoming comeback and you couldn’t be more excited to work with all of the members. They were always with their units, but today, SM decided to have all of them merge. 

“Jisung-ah!” you replied and gave the youngest a warm hug, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the brooding man at the back, silently throwing daggers towards your direction, his make-up artist is not so fond as well at his sudden long face expression. “ Have you been well? “ you asked adoringly. 

“Jisung-ah!” you replied and gave the youngest a warm hug, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the brooding man at the back, silently throwing daggers towards your direction, his make-up artist is not so fond as well at his sudden long face expression. “ Have you been well? “ you asked adoringly. 

“Yah, what this eyebags, you stay up all night didn’t you?” you playfully scolded him. Jisung suddenly grew embarrassed and even a little guilty at disappointing you.

 “ 밥 먹었어요?” (Bap meogeoseoyo) you asked the boy. He just shakes his head as a no and you scoffed at his answer. “그래, 알았어, Let’s eat after this, Noona’s treat” (Grae, arasseo) you said then patted the young boy’s back which earns a delighted smile at his end. On the other hand, someone was not very happy at the scene that unfolded before his eyes. How come, that the ever wallflower Jisung managed to win you over, the only women he laid eyes who doesn’t flatter at other people’s advances towards her. Even the oh-so-great flirt Yuta didn’t manage to have you swoon over your feet.

He was snapped back to life when other Dream members started to tease Jisung because of his encounter with you. Jaemin was the loudest to utter ‘Our Jisung-a is no longer a baby boy huh” Jisung only rolled his eyes and utter how they don’t make sense and how other members were saying the most rubbish, and weirdest non-sense ever. Starting from that day he started to make his own move at making his effort of getting close to you. Doesn’t matter if he can’t break your walls because he’s more than willing to climb it just to get to you.

*****************************************

Weeks have past and he can already see the progress within your relationship, you were warmer to him than before, you would even greet him first when you do happen to crossway in the hallway. He was also almost confident that you favor him an extra bit more than the others. You were usually shy with other members, would wait for them to acknowledge you first but with him, you would say hi first once in a while. He even became more confident when you asked him first to help you get to know the city when he’s free until it became your thing to invite one another to visit a shop that has only been open recently. 

The keyword was almost.

Once their photoshoot from last month was initially released you were relentless at showering Jisung with a compliment. Telling him how proud you were with him, how handsome he looks at some shots. The breaking point was when you told him that you will treat him, AGAIN, with a meal.

“Let’s celebrate this, there’s this restaurant that just open, we should try it” you beamed happily to the boy, even snaking your hand around his right arm. He couldn’t bear the sight, he knows it’s wrong for him to feel hostile towards the youngest member but at this point, he is beyond his rationality. “I want to come to!” he said way too loudly and too aggressive than his normal tone.

All eyes were now focused towards him, shocked at his sudden outburst. But the thing that’s been running in his mind was the fact that he can’t let you be alone with another man that’s not him. He was only starting to build his way at winning you, he can’t let other men have an advance in his game. 

Meal with a new restaurant was our thing.

Midnight stroll in the city was our thing.

Going out to visit a new store was our thing.

He’s missing something. Do you like younger boys? Was the problem was his age? Was that it? Was that the reason why you always pin over Jisung despite other members pine over you? He thought you were getting along. He almost even thought that his feelings towards you were starting to cease from being one-sided.

“Oh sure, no problem with that Taeyong Hyung, you can always tag along whenever,” the young boy said, completely oblivious to the way Taeyong’s eyes were raking your form as if he would take you right there and there. You on the other hand found his outburst peculiar and very out of character.

*****************************************

Starting from that day, Taeyong was more obvious at dropping hints towards his affection. He’s no longer subtle at giving you compliments. The members were not oblivious to this, the moment that Taeyong made his affection towards you obvious, was the moment the other member took it as a cue to back off. They never really saw their leader took an interest in anyone, he’s always too busy to take care of everyone that he always neglect to fend for his own self, so when started to become all puppy eyes whenever you are around, follow you everywhere you go, do everything just to get your attention from bringing your files for you up to the littlest things and reason just to be with you, they knew you were now a serious deal.

Taeyong may have made things obvious, but whatever it is that’s going on between the two of you, it was never confirmed nor denied verbally. 

Taeyong always made sure to be pinned in the hip with you whenever he had the chance. May it be the time where you visit their practice room to disseminate some information, may it be the time that they’re free and just casually chilling at the cafeteria, Taeyong would even bring you a drink every chance he got, staying at your station just to casually hang around in a place where you were doing your own things, so basically you were dating without actually being said to be dating.

People around the company started to suspect that there’s something going on between the two of you. Interns who have shown their interest towards you were always warned that you were already Taeyong’s and it would be in their best interest to find someone else than bother you because Taeyong might be the sweetest guy, but boy was he possessive as hell.

There was even one time where an innocent intern was too close to you for Taeyong’s liking and behold, it was the first that everyone witnessed his possessiveness. He wouldn’t keep his hand off of your waist. He would constantly be glued at your side, towering whoever comes in your way, intimidating every single employee who would just approach you. He might not verbally tell them to get lost, but his intimidating aura alone is enough to send them off.

And that was the time that everyone knew better than jeopardize you and Taeyong. It might never be officially stated that the two of you were an item but he’s an idol, and they would never vocally nor announce publicly that they were dating, even if it’s only inside the company. Nevertheless, the way he was behaving around you was enough to show that you were indeed his, and his alone.

*****************************************

Everything was well, the day was bright, everyone was just having fun, well that’s until someone was having TOO much fun without HIM being by your side. Taeyong doesn’t appreciate the fact that Jisung’s hand was around your shoulder and that you were laughing way too loudly for his liking at to what the maknae was saying. And the fact that you were bare except for your beachwear right now doesn’t make anything better. Seeing other people, especially men, holding your skin like that irks him in so many ways.

“Jisung-a, we’re having too much fun here are we” the innocent boy can only smile towards his Hyung completely oblivious to the sarcasm that coated his statement. 

“Oh Hyung, annyeong!” he greeted. “Neh, I was just telling Noona about that time where we skipped and spent all day in the city” he laughed. “Pretty much risky, isn’t it Noona” the boy beamed looking down on you. You on the other hand catch a glimpse of how Taeyong was basically shaking and gawking his eyes on the hand that is around your shoulder. 

“Jisung-a,” you said sweetly, which made Taeyong even more annoyed than he already is. He narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth and it shows with the way how his jaw clenched. “Neh?” Jisung responded, almost too endearing if you asked others' perspectives. But Taeyong’s foul mood is too palpable that you can’t help but acknowledge it. “Maybe you should find Chenle first and...” you haven’t able to finish whatever you were saying because Taeyong basically tears you off from Jisung’s arm and drag away from the shore towards one of resort’s room. 

When you’re completely away from the eyes of anyone you were surprised when Taeyong pin you harshly towards the wall, eyes were almost popping from its socket, his boba eyes which everyone adored were replaced with something predatory. 

“Were you really oblivious towards what I feel even after making it too fcking obvious or do you really just want to play all too naive and innocent? What are playing Y/N?” he said while carefully caressing your cheeks, despite the fact that he does it so gently it feels like it’s burning because the way of how he’s body is basically restricting him from losing control all at once. You can feel his breath fanning the side of your cheeks.

You gulp loudly not expecting that this is the way Taeyong would finally burst. “Or are you just nasty and enjoyed being called Noona?” he said lips almost touching yours but not enough to actually have contact. His hand slowly traveled towards your delicate neck. “I can also call you Noona you know” he said, almost like a growl. “If that’s what you want if that’s what I’ve been missing all this time, so tell me Y/N, why do you always have the knack of pissing me off through Jisung”.

You on the other hand were too lost with how close your body is with his and the fact that he’s basically manhandling you right now. You wanted to chuckle at how unreasonable he is but at the same time also too aroused to actually compose a coherent answer.

“Answer me or I will force it out of you, you minx” he tightened his grip on your neck. Part of you want to test his patience and the other just wanted to submit, you decided to choose the first one.

“Maybe you haven’t marked what yours properly” you answered hoarsely and Taeyong’s eyes darkened because of your answer. He quickly smashed his lips to yours and one thing lead to another. The last thing you know he’s already giving your neck a hickey, a big and very prominent one you can tell with the way of how hard he was sucking and biting your neck.

Before things can go too far a figure appeared in your peripheral vision which caused you to push Taeyong off of you. Taeyong on the other hand looked too perplexed but when he saw the person cause of your awestruck state, he grew smug. 

“Eww, Noona! I know you and Taeyong were now basically a thing but” Jisung exclaimed pointing at your neck looking dumbfounded, “good luck at telling Appa where does that thing came from because I’m basically not telling that my sister is doing the dirty with my leader Hyung” he said leaving the two of you. But even at the end of the hall, you can both heard him murmuring to himself how he can’t believe that his Noona is not as innocent as he thought you were. 

Meanwhile, Taeyong looks so perplexed, he just looked at you with a puzzled expression silently begging for an answer. 

“Jisung is my dongsaeng you know, I can’t believe you just got jealous of my baby brother, and the maknae of your group” you scoffed. Lightly fixing your dress. “And definitely don’t expect that of all people he would be the one to walk in on us” Taeyong on the other hand look so lost, you can see in his feature some trace of regret, humiliation, guilt but you can only smile at his dumbfound state.

“To answer your question earlier, it’s not like you don’t make things obvious, it’s just that you don’t make it vocal so it’s not like I can really say anything other than what you show” you shrugged trying to bring him out from his dazed. 

“Hello? earth to Taeyong?” he remained silent. You decide to say something to finally snapped him out of it. “Since you have already stolen a kiss from me, which is, by the way, my first kiss, and you as well basically already mark me, are finally going to ACTUALLY ask me to be your girlfriend?” still none “or should I finally take that carnival date with Yuta?” that might have done the trick because Taeyong held you by your waist with the blink of an eye. Looking at you hungrily before giving you another kiss, this time it’s sweeter and more sensual than the first time. 

“You are only mine, jagiya” he said, and you wonder how can he look so feral just a moment ago, and now he looked so ethereal and cute with his toothy smile.

Fin.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 17)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 4359 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I know you’re excited for the wedding but we’re not quite there yet. Although I think you’ll be happy about this... mostly. Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 16 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Somehow it was decided that this was a good idea, that Coney Island wouldn’t be so bad on Memorial Day weekend. You were very wrong.

Everyone had the same idea, filling the subways until they were packed as you made the long trip to Brooklyn. What should have taken just over an hour became closer to two because of overcrowding. It was hard to guarantee that eight people would make it onto the same train with all the pushing and shoving of people ensuring that they made it inside before the doors shut.

By the time you arrived everyone was hungry and the mass of people covering the large Boardwalk only added to the frustration you were all feeling. Clint, Steve, Peggy and Bucky wanted Nathan’s hot dogs while you, Natasha and Wanda didn’t. You decided to split up, going down the Boardwalk to another place that was just as crowded but offered something for each of you.

“There’s no place to sit,” Natasha said, looking around as she held a lobster roll in one hand and a beer in the other.

“Ooh, over there,” you said, pointing to a bench across the Boardwalk that was quickly taken before you had the chance to take even one step towards it.

There were a few high top tables that you could stand up in front of so you quickly ran over to an open one before someone else could. Natasha lined up her food on the table, getting the restaurant’s name in the background as she took a picture.

“Clint just texted me. They’re finally about to order.”

“About time,” Wanda said, taking a bite of her sausage and pepper roll. She nudged over her container of fries towards you and Natasha, silently offering them.

“They’re asking if we should meet up with them by the Wonder Wheel.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said while chewing, covering your mouth so pieces of your cheeseburger didn’t spit out.

Despite the crowds this brief moment felt nice, feeling the breeze from the ocean and the warm sun heating your skin. Memorial Day weekend was the unofficial start of summer and that meant you could finally begin your countdown to graduation. You had three months more to go before you would finally reach your goal and it was… scary. Scary and exciting at the same time but you couldn’t wait for that day.

“So Saturday’s the big wedding huh?” Natasha smirked.

You raised your eyebrow, not giving in to the way she looked at you. “Yes it is but we’re getting there Friday and before you say anything our hotel has two beds, okay? Two of them.” you said, sticking two fingers in front of her face.

Natasha mumbled something under her breath that you didn’t bother to decipher. Nothing was going to happen. A little dancing, a little awkward conversation with people you don’t know and that’s it.

“Horses?” Wanda asked you, tilting her head up so you could get a glimpse. Natasha looked confused but held her tongue.

Music filled your ears as you passed a group of people gathered on the Boardwalk watching others dance. It was nice to see everyone let go and enjoy the sunshine.

Wanda kissed Sam as soon as the groups joined up again in contrast to Natasha. “I don’t like hot dog breath,” she said, looking into her bag for gum or a mint to give Clint.

Making a face she didn’t see, he mockingly signed back Natasha’s words making you laugh since you understood him. Bucky held his left palm up, sliding the middle finger of his right hand over it. To your shock you realized he just signed back “rude” to Clint.

Turning towards him you asked, “When did you learn ASL?”

“When someone told me our neighbor signs.” He smiled widely and you suddenly felt light enough for the breeze to carry you away. “C’mon,” Bucky said, nudging his head for you to start walking with the group.

He adjusted the brim of his baseball cap, which was the only difference between your outfits today as Sam pointed out. You and Bucky were basically matching and he thought it was cute that you coordinated even though it wasn’t planned.

You both wore crisp white t-shirts, jeans (though yours were shorts), and converse sneakers. Arguing that you were wearing red sneakers unlike Bucky’s black ones made no difference, everyone still thought it was a very “coupley” thing to do.

As you walked towards the Wonder Wheel you couldn’t help but stare at Bucky's arms. They had gotten much bigger ever since he started working out with Sam and Steve and those muscles definitely stood out now; tanned skin with a prominent vein running down his arm you couldn’t take your eyes off of.

“Swinging cars? Oh no. I’m good,” Sam said as you approached the line.

“Me too. I’ve got a belly full of hot dogs so I’d rather not,” Clint added.

The group split with Sam, Wanda, Clint and Natasha getting in line for the stationary cars as you, Bucky, Peggy and Steve waited for the swinging ones. When it was time to load into your car there were two benches facing forward. Steve and Peggy took the front one and you guys were in the back. Bucky let you enter first and you sat down quickly so the attendant could close the door, adjusting your bag between your legs on the floor.

Steve turned his head around, smiling at you in a way that made you furrow your brows at him but your unspoken communication was interrupted as the ferris wheel began moving backwards. He faced forward again, reaching his arm around Peggy in the cramped space.

The car stopped suddenly but above you was the shadow of another cart and the sounds of screams as it rocked along its own track. Everybody on the stationary cars were missing out, this was going to be fun.

Half a minute went by before the ferris wheel moved again, this time stopping at a point where your car was able to roll forward. You expected the jolt but it didn’t mean you were prepared for it and somehow you found yourself grabbing Bucky by the shoulder as you screamed with laughter as the cart swung back and forth. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact he wished you kept your hand on him the whole time.

He envied Steve holding Peggy close. When the car reached the top he watched them kiss, a small peck to show affection and Bucky was undeniably jealous. Steve had met the perfect girl in Peggy, and Bucky felt the same way about a certain person sitting next to him.

You only accepted his request to be his wedding date because he begged, he’s sure of that. It was so pathetic for him to plead but he really wanted you to go with him, and shamefully, since he knew you had sworn off dating, this was the closest thing he would ever get.

His profile was still up on the apps, and occasionally he would make plans to meet someone. The closer the wedding got, the less frequent it’s been. He’s not proud of the fact that he’s made dates and cancelled them. He tried his best to remember to cancel in advance but sometimes he would forget, becoming lost in the music he was creating, only to find a few messages with choice language he rightfully deserved from the people he didn’t mean to stand up.

Bucky wasn’t interested in any of them, only one person was always on his mind and yet he knew he would have to let that go. Going to the wedding together isn’t going to help his feelings but he hopes by some strange logic he can allow his heart to live out whatever fantasy is not coming true and then let you go.

“You wanna hit the beach now?” Sam asked, once you all got off the Wonder Wheel.

“Yeah, Nat says my ass is pasty,” Clint replied.

Natasha’s nostrils flared as her eyes widened in shock. “You are not tanning your pasty ass on this public beach Clint!”

Laughter rang out and Clint leaned in to peck a kiss to Natasha’s full lips which relaxed her tense expression. Despite all their teasing they loved each other deeply and it made your heart ache, longing to have a love like theirs.

The crowds on the beach hadn’t let up, not that anyone expected them to. Umbrellas of every color of the rainbow were spread out across the sand and it didn’t look like there was even a spot for all of you to fit among the crowd but that didn’t stop anyone.

Your sneakers crunched on the sand scattered along the wood planks by the entrance, grabbing the hot metal railing to pull them off before you walked down onto the beach. Bucky followed suit, holding his sneakers in hand while everyone else left on their flip flops or slip-on.

The sand was burning hot against your soles that also battled against sharp seashells as you trudged your way to a spot, following behind the group. Clint’s impeccable vision pointed out a spot big enough for all of you and rushed over there staking a claim.

Steve shrugged his shoulder down to let the heavy bag he was carrying for Peggy go. She had packed a large bag with towels, sunscreen and a few collapsible umbrellas. Sam helped Steve by setting up the umbrellas as everyone else worked to set their towels down.

Pulling out a large towel you placed your sneakers inside your tote bag, holding it open for Bucky in case he wanted to protect his from the sand as well.

“Hey where’s your stuff?” you wondered out loud as he placed his sneakers inside.

Bucky clenched his teeth together making an adorable face that told you your answer before he gave it. “When you said we were going to Coney Island I didn’t think you meant the actual beach. I figured food and drinks...” he trailed off, still awkwardly grimacing.

“It’s okay. You can share mine,” you offered. Turning away to unravel the towel, you missed the soft smile that settled on his face at the prospect of being close to you.

Bucky helped smooth out the towel, a pretty teal with gold pineapples printed across the fabric. He let a small huff out under his breath, disappointed by the fact that your towel was bigger than he expected and he didn’t have an excuse to be as close as he hoped. The feeling passed just as quickly as Bucky realized how stupid his thoughts were; you were only offering him the towel, it was not an invitation for anything else.

His mental chastising paused from the moment your hands hooked on the waist of your shorts, pulling them down to reveal a bikini. A sexy snakeskin pattern in a mix of steel blue, black with speckles of white that hugged you like a second skin.

Bucky’s mouth fell open as you pulled off your shirt, revealing the matching top and he had to force his gaze away. His cheeks felt hot and with the shade of the umbrella he’s not sure he could use the sun as an excuse for his bright red face.

Sam caught the interaction, raising an eyebrow to Wanda as his mouth pulled into a deep smirk.

“Hey Bucky!” The sound of Sam’s unexpected voice startled Bucky, making him jump slightly as he whipped his head towards him. “What are you wearing man? Jeans? I hope you don’t have a speedo under them.”

Everyone laughed though the sound of your giggling made Bucky ripen like a tomato. With a shaky voice he dismissed Sam’s claim, wishing he had thought this day through and worn board shorts like everyone else.

“You’re not beach ready!” Sam said, crossing his broad, sculpted arms over his chest.

Frustrated by the sound of another innocent giggle that fell from your lips, Bucky pulled off his shirt tossing it aside. “Happy? I’m beach ready!”

The breath was pulled from your lungs leaving you unable to speak, think or do anything other than stare at Bucky. Your eyes scanned his muscular body up and down, as if he had been sculpted by the gods himself.

Your hands longed to touch every ab that was carved into his stomach and when your gaze continued lower you thought you might go feral. The deep cuts on his hips had your mouth watering and without realizing it your tongue had swept across your lips. It wasn’t until Bucky moved to sit down that your focus was broken.

“You look great,” you stated, clearing the nerves away from your throat. Bucky shrugged it off with a modest half smile, unable to fully embrace the compliment coming from you. “No really, I’m actually jealous. How the fuck do you have that body with all the pizza we’ve been eating?”

Your question made him laugh, wrinkling his nose as the smile spread across his face. The tension had eased although you were very aware of Bucky as you laid on the towel, trying not to stare at him like he was a piece of meat and you hadn’t eaten in weeks.

As Sam spoke about an ER case you were happily distracted, even though you were tempted to ogle Bucky every time he shifted beside you, cringing at the gory details. The hours passed quickly as you laid out, relaxing or talking with Peggy as Natasha, Wanda and Sam went into the water. Bucky sat beside Steve and Clint, the three of them laughing at their conversation.

Peggy spoke in a low whisper, “After the way you looked at him today I don’t think you can fool yourself much longer.”

You didn’t respond because there wasn’t much to say. Peggy saw the look in your eyes, the admission of what you both knew was true and the fear that came along with having feelings for him, knowing it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“Anyone want food? I’m gonna get more hot dogs,” Clint said, wiping sand from the back of his shorts as he stood up.

Both your heads shook and he left just as Natasha was coming back. She pulled out another towel to wrap around herself, “He’s getting food?” she asked despite knowing the answer.

Wanda and Sam returned hand in hand, drying off in the still very warm sun and asking about what everyone wanted to do afterwards.

“I’ve never been on the Cyclone before,” Peggy said, looking at Steve as they both silently recalled the story he told her about throwing up after going on it as a kid.

By the time Clint returned he had already eaten the hot dogs he bought, feigning shock to see everyone packing up. Bucky put his shirt back on, slightly wrinkled from the way he tossed it into your bag, and he caught your gaze as you were slipping on your shorts.

He looked away, lifting the towel and shaking the sand off of it. You helped him fold it up to place back in your bag and Bucky kindly removed both pairs of sneakers to avoid an uncomfortable mess.

When you made it to the Boardwalk you leaned against the railing, wiping sand from the bottom of your feet before putting on your shoes. Bucky did the same though he could still feel grains of uncomfortable sand in his socks.

Natasha and Wanda needed to change so you followed them to the bathroom to use it as everyone else waited. By the time you reached the Cyclone you were paired off to sit with Bucky again, not that you minded.

“Hold up,” Sam began, lifting his hand towards Clint, “You’re okay to ride a rollercoaster after eating but not the swinging ferris wheel?”

Clint nodded as he shrugged in response, not knowing how to explain why. Sam rolled his eyes, sharing a confused look with Wanda. They made sure to sit in the back to be far enough behind Clint, just in case.

You and Bucky were cramped together in the padded leather seats of the historic coaster; packed in like sardines and secured even tighter as the lap bar came down.

“It’s squishing my thighs,” Bucky winced, laughing as the ride began; a sharp right turn before the rickety chain began pulling the car up the hill.

Your hands were both in the air as you went down the first drop but quickly you dropped them, holding on to the padded lap bar because despite having no room to move every forceful turn had you pushing against each other.

Screams were present throughout the ride as the coaster went down steep hills and hard turns and in the end you turned towards Bucky, laughing in the pit of your stomach as you saw his hair, loose and wildly covering his face.

He combed through it with his fingers, taming it as best as he could before trying to get himself out of the seat. Once he was free he held a hand out for you to take and that’s when you felt the ache in your thighs. You hissed as you rubbed them, feeling how sore they were from the rough ride.

“Maybe Bucky could rub them for you,” Natasha whispered in your ear as she passed by, laughing, hand in hand with Clint who, defying all laws, did not throw up.

You rolled your eyes and continued to walk, a little painfully as you were still feeling the dull throb from your legs. Passing a few carnival games Steve and Sam eyed each other, their friendly competitive nature carried over from their workouts to now see who could win the bigger prize for their girl.

“Sam, I’m serious, I don’t want a giant teddy bear,” Wanda insisted but Sam couldn’t hear her.

His focus was on the best spot to aim to knock over the six tin cans. He licked his lips, a confident smile spreading across his face. Winding his arm back he let go, leaving all but one can standing.

“Let me show you how it’s done Sammy,” Steve said with swagger, as he paid for his game.

Peggy and Wanda shared a look as she also expressed no interest in a four foot bear. “Honestly, my apartment is small. I can’t have a massive bear taking up space.”

Thankfully Steve’s aim was no better, leaving two cans standing.

“Oh look at that. All those muscles and you can’t knock down more cans than me. Looks like I should be the Captain now,” Sam snickered.

You and Bucky opted for a much more friendly competition playing alongside Clint and Natasha in the water gun game. The four of you sat down on the padded stools, paying for your game and waiting for the round to begin as more people joined. Beside you a small child sat on his knees on the stool, as his mother held onto him and told him what to aim for.

Grabbing the gun you tried to position it towards the target in advance, ignoring Bucky’s comments about how he has the aim of a sniper so he always wins. At the sound of the bell the water turned on and you were an inch off from the center of the target, quickly adjusting and hoping there was some chance you could still win. The prize didn’t matter, but bragging rights certainly did.

“Number eight’s a winner!” the employee resounded.

To your left you saw Bucky’s wide “I told you so” smile, written across his face that now glowed with the flashing blue light above his winning station. Another sound made you turn your head though, the kid next to you that burst out into tears after losing. Your gaze softened as you watched his mother try to comfort him as the employee asked Bucky what color dinosaur plush he would like as his prize.

“Hey buddy,” Bucky said, ignoring the employee for a moment as he knelt down beside the crying child. “Which color’s your favorite?”

With a few sniffles he lifted his head up, tiny curled hands wiping away his tears as he asked for the purple dinosaur. Bucky proudly handed over the plush toy to the now smiling kid, accepting his mother’s thanks as they walked away.

Your heart was swelling with warmth and when Bucky turned around he was met with a soft smile you couldn’t hide. He turned away smiling, trying to hide the dusting of pink he felt forming on his cheeks.

With everyone feeling a little hungry now you followed Steve who knew about a good place a few blocks away. Walking beside Bucky your fingers brushed against his every so lightly making goosebumps ripple up your arm. You wanted to take his hand, lace your fingers together as a small sign to let him know how you felt but you were too scared.

Steve brought you to a small Mexican place that had an enclosed patio, with good music blasting and brightly colored margaritas that everyone around you seemed to have. The guys pushed two circular tables together so you could all sit, looking over the menu of food which you were hungry for but more importantly drinks that you hoped would give you the courage to grab Bucky’s hand.

Your table was with the girls though Bucky was still beside you, squeezing into the other table next to Steve.

“Mmmm nachos, and ohh tacos… I feel like I haven’t eaten in forever. I want them all,” you joked, reading over the menu.

With food on the table and a strawberry margarita in hand you felt great. Today may have been hot and crowded but it was a perfect day spent with your friends.

Natasha stood up, trying to angle a selfie with everyone in it meaning you had to lean back towards Bucky and after your drink you were a little looser, tipping your head backwards to smile at him. Bucky laughed, smiling back at you before Natasha said she was ready.

Bucky moved in closer, resting his chin on your shoulder, his long hair tickled your neck which made you giggle just as Natasha took the picture. He lingered there for longer than he should have before he sat up straight, ignoring the way Sam looked at him.

Somehow everything felt right. Tonight was the night you were going to let Bucky know how you felt. Your hand slowly inched closer to Bucky’s, reaching out for his left hand resting on his thigh. All you had to do was touch it, a light caress by your fingers, just enough to let him know there’s something you want to say without saying it yet.

“Bucky!”

The high pitched voice of a woman calling out to him made your arm jerk back into the safety of your lap.

Bucky turned to see a woman he unfortunately recognized. Whitney, a bartender he had gone on a date with two months ago and ghosted afterwards. She was nice but there weren’t any sparks. He slept with her anyway, regretfully.

With her head cocked to the side and hands on her hips she smirked as she replied. “You were supposed to text me back!”

“Yeah, sorry about that…” Bucky lied.

“That’s not very nice.” She pouted, playfully swatting at his chest. “And after that night we had!”

Bucky forced a tight smile as he looked past her in the hope that she had friends waiting for her. Whitney continued to flirt, at least that’s what Bucky thought by the sound of her voice, the way she purred her words to him even though he wasn’t paying any attention.

Relief flashed in his eyes when another girl stumbled her way towards them, lacing her arm through Whitney’s to pull her away. Bucky had never been happier to see a drunken mess, because this one was saving him from dealing with her.

“Text me sometime, okay Bucky?” Whitney cooed.

“Uh yeah yeah, sure. It was nice seeing you.” Bucky responded quickly, barely hearing what she had even said.

Before he could turn to sit back down Whitney grabbed him by the collar and pressed her lips against his. You turned away, finding solace in your drink, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Bucky contemplated if wiping his lips would be too childish even if it’s what he honestly felt like doing. He sat down again, embarrassed that everyone had to witness that.

“So…” Sam began, breaking the ice, “Another hook up huh?”

“What? No. I… No that’s nothing going to happen. Not with her.”

Sam scoffed. “Oh so some other girl then? Have you ever tried actually dating one person?”

Steve blinked a few times at Sam’s candid question even if he agreed with the sentiment. After all this time he still didn’t understand why Bucky was so averse to dating.

“It’s just that…” Bucky started before he let out a grunting sigh.

From the corner of his eye Bucky saw your head turn ever so slightly to listen in. His cheeks began to match your margarita and he knew he couldn’t answer Steve honestly, not when he wanted to have this conversation with you in private. He hates the reputation he’s built up for himself, desperately wanting to be the great boyfriend you once thought he could be.

Bucky shrugged off the question, taking a sip of his drink instead. When his glass hits the table he looks towards you and your eyes meet for a second. His smile seems fake and you know why. He’s holding back from answering the truth because you know he probably wants to have an explicit conversation about all the girls he’s fucked, bragging about every dirty detail to the guys but he can’t because you’re there.

The rest of the night was a blur as all you could think about was how to let go of your feelings because you could never be in a relationship with Bucky.

PART 18

[richincolor]

Interview with Axie Oh

We’re excited to feature an interview with Axie Oh today. It’s release day for her latest novel, XOXO.

Cello prodigy Jenny has one goal: to get into a prestigious music conservatory. When she meets mysterious, handsome Jaewoo in her uncle’s Los Angeles karaoke bar, it’s clear he’s the kind of boy who would uproot her careful plans. But in a moment of spontaneity, she allows him to pull her out of her comfort zone for one unforgettable night of adventure…before he disappears without a word.

Three months later, when Jenny and her mother arrive in South Korea to take care of her ailing grandmother, she’s shocked to discover that Jaewoo is a student at the same elite arts academy where she’s enrolled for the semester. And he’s not just any student. He’s a member of one of the biggest K-pop bands in the world—and he’s strictly forbidden from dating.

When a relationship means throwing Jenny’s life off the path she’s spent years mapping out, she’ll have to decide once and for all just how much she’s willing to risk for love.

*There will be several online events to help celebrate release week and you can find out more about those here.

Congratulations and happy release day. Thanks so much for taking the time to share a little bit about your writing. I just re-read XOXO and it was even more fun the second time through. I had so many smiles and plenty of laughter. I also had to find and listen to a few songs along the way as music is such a big part of the story.

Axie: Ah, I love that!

Jenny is clearly a music lover–though K-pop isn’t exactly at the top of her playlists. Has music and/or K-pop always been important in your life?

Axie: It has! My mother, who immigrated to the US when she was in high school, listened to Korean music—though I’m not sure if that would be considered K-pop at the time, and so did my older brother. In elementary school, I was into 1st generation K-pop groups like Fin.K.L and Shinhwa, then in middle school I was obsessed with Super Junior, and finally in high school and college, my favorite groups were Big Bang and Exo, among so many others. BTS debuted in 2013 right after I graduated from college, and I was a fan of theirs from the beginning!

Is there a K-pop song you’re loving right now or a K-pop group you think people should listen to immediately?

Axie: Right now I’m really into TXT and ENHYPEN’s music. If you like BTS, you should give them a listen! See the below question for what songs I think you should listen to immediately!

I’ve seen playlists for Rebel Seoul and Rogue Heart. Do you make one for all of your novels?

Axie: I do! I make playlists after each book I write as something fun for myself and they also provide some nice extra content for readers. I recently shared my playlist for XOXO, which I spent months on—it’s a K-pop book so I really wanted to showcase a variety of artists, and curate it well with songs that fit the book’s mood and tone. I even attempted to match each song to a chapter, so there are 40 songs on the playlist! You can check out the Spotify playlist here.

Do you feel like you are finished with the characters in XOXO or is there a possible follow-up?

Axie: I wrote XOXO as a standalone, but if my publisher came knocking, I wouldn’t say no!

What did you like about going from writing sci-fi books to writing a contemporary romance?

Axie: I liked exploring a completely new genre with so many fun, familiar tropes. And XOXO in particular is a very light-hearted and happy book, much different than my moody, atmospheric sci-fi series. Though there *is* worldbuilding involved in writing a contemporary, it’s not as intense as a sci-fi novel, so that was also nice for me!

And I see your next publication The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea is a fantasy re-telling. Are there things about writing a fantasy that you’ve appreciated?

Axie: Fantasy as a genre is actually my first love, and retellings my favorite subgenre of fantasy. I love how in fantasy you can explore new worlds, and there are no limits to one’s imagination.

No matter the genre, what do you love about writing and what can be a challenge?

Axie: As a generally private person, I love how through writing I can share parts of myself with others. I feel like I express myself best through fiction. I also definitely don’t feel like I create in a vacuum, but in conversation with others. What I mean by this is that I’m inspired by other forms of media when creating my own stories. For example, XOXO is inspired by my love of K-dramas, the Rebel Seoul series is a love letter to mecha anime, and The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea is my addition to the YA retelling subgenre of books, like those written by Robin McKinley and Diana Wynne Jones.

As for challenges, there are so many—difficult revisions, bad writing days, comparing myself to other writers—but at the end of the day, the need to express myself through writing is most important to me than all the rest combined.

What are your most anticipated reads that haven’t been published yet?

Axie: I blurbed a few books that I’m very excited about! Nafiza Azad’s sophomore novel THE WILD ONES releases next month and it’s absolutely stunning. If you liked XOXO, and were curious what it’s like to be a non-Korean idol in the K-pop world—in this case, Chinese American—then check out Alexandra Leigh Young’s IDOL GOSSIP, out in September. And lastly, Julie Abe’s YA contemporary debut, THE CHARMED LIST, is as charming as it sounds, about two childhood best friends to enemies to lovers who go on a road trip together—they also happen to wield magic! This one isn’t out until Summer 2022.

We’re looking forward to seeing XOXO out in the world soon and having a group discussion here on the blog about it too! Thanks again.

Axie: Thank you for having me!! This interview was so much fun ☺

Axie Oh is a first generation Korean American, born in NYC and raised in New Jersey. She studied Korean history and creative writing as an undergrad at the University of California – San Diego and holds an MFA from Lesley University in Writing for Young People. Her passions include K-pop, anime, stationery supplies, and milk tea. She currently resides in Las Vegas, Nevada with her puppy, Toro.

You can find her on her website and on Goodreads, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, and Instagram.

[sunshineandbnha]

After All These Years - Denki x reader (Denki birthday special)

Word count: 2,355 Warnings: not edited A/N: I really did try to get this out on his birthday, but now it’s 8 minutes too late. It’s kinda rushed, but I really like this idea. Hope you like it.

~

"It's almost our third year in UA."

"I know, crazy right." Kaminari laid back in the grass. His hands were folded behind his head.

The wind combed through your hair. It was a nice day and you both agreed to meet at the park.

"You know, back when I applied to UA, I thought I'd have a girlfriend by now."

"Yeah." You absent mindedly nodded.

"I know! If we're still single when we're thirty, we'll marry each other!" 

You laughed, not taking his suggestion seriously. "Well, I would want to date someone before I marry them. Besides, how do you know I won't become a hobo by then." you said jokingly.

He let out a sigh. His gaze drifting down to his side. "I just don't want to be alone." 

You paused before rolling your eyes a little, but you decided not to tease him about it. You jokingly agreed, "Yeah. Sure."

~

It was your first day off in a while, and you took this precious time to sort through the growing mess in your room. Picking up each individual item and trying to figure out what to do with it. You came across an old photo. The frame around it was a nice wooden brown, though it was clear from touching it that it was just plastic. It had collected some dust

It was a photo of you with your friends while you were still in highschool. Among them was Kaminari. You smiled as you sat back on the one area of your bed that wasn't cluttered from cleaning. It had been years since then.

Wait.

"Shoot!" You stood, "It was his birthday today wasn't it?"

You quickly walked out of your room to find your phone. Both to check the date and to text him if it was. You were in the process of searching for it when a knock at the door interrupted you. You didn’t recall anyone saying they were coming over. You carefully walked up to the door.

"It's me, Denki."

You opened up the door to the smiling blond on the other side. 

“It’s my birthday! Miss me?”

"Hey! Not that I'm upset, but what are you doing here?"

"I thought I texted you that I was coming over?" He said.

With an eyebrow quirked, you found your phone after a minute of searching and checked.

"Oops. Sorry, I had it on silent."

“No problem.” He bounced on his toes. “It’s been a while since we saw each other in person. Like, a month or so?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Wait a second, that was in winter.”

His eyes widened. “Oh! Right! Yeah, it was cold that day. So, ouch, five months ago.”

“Good for catching up. Sorry, I completely forgot it was your birthday. I swear I had just remembered and was about to text you before you knocked.”

“It’s all good.”

You nodded and fell into an awkward silence. Both wanting to talk about something, but having no idea where to start.

Kaminari smiled. “So, thirty, right? Back in U.A. I almost thought I’d never get this far.”

“Yeah.” You laughed. “We’re getting old.”

“I know,” he nervously nodded. “So are we gonna date now?”

“Excuse me?”

“Remember about fourteen years ago when we said if we didn’t find anyone by now, we’d start dating?”

“Holy- we’ve been friends that long?” You shook your head. “But, I did? I don’t remember... well, I guess I kinda remember that now that you mention it?”

“Oops, I guess it was a while ago.” His head sunk into his shoulders and looked to his side with a nervous grin. “But… wanna try?”

You bit the inside of your lip and looked up. Well, considering this was your day off, you didn’t have much better to do. Of course, there was the clutter in your bedroom, but you were also subconsciously keen on looking for an excuse not to do it. Plus, you really didn’t have a problem with going on one date with him. And…

"Fine. We'll go on a date and see how we feel by the end of it."

His golden eyes lit up and his smile grew the biggest you'd seen it in a long time.

You loved to see him happy.

"But, I have one condition," you had said, "it can't get out to the media."

The media and citizens loved to meddle in pro heroes' love life. Simply going to a café together would get you on trending pages for the next week. And though you never experienced this, you've seen how stressful it could be. Lord knew how much hate Shouto's girlfriend received from his fangirls when a camera first caught them. There was even a rumor about reporters going to her apartment when someone found out which complex she lived in.

Of course, you didn't know her or Shouto personally. It happened around five years ago, and you didn’t even know if they were still together. But it was enough to convince you to try not to get caught up in that kind of drama if you could help it.

"This mask is kinda stuffy," Kaminari tugged at the black mask on his face.

You walked by his side on the sidewalk. The air felt still and hot. But at least the night prevented it from getting any warmer. The temperature actually felt comfortable if you were sitting.

"Sorry. I just don't want someone to see us together and blow it out of proportion. Especially since we don't know how we feel about this yet."

"True. But it's so hard," he whined.

"Hopefully you didn't pick a restaurant to go to."

"I actually didn't. I hope you'll really like it."

It all felt so strange, because it didn't feel odd. You were both talking and hanging out like you usually would. The only difference now was that there was the official title of "date" going along with it.  You both spent a lot of time together like that when you were still high schoolers. He actually asked you out a few times, but you always said no and insisted on being just friends.

Though just a few months before graduating, you started to develop feelings for him. You ignored it. You knew he didn't feel the same. It hurt to see him asking other people out at that time, but it was fine. It hurt, but you knew your silly feelings meant nothing and you liked being friends with him.

You past shops, getting closer to the park.

Initially after graduating, you didn't see each other very much. You were both busy and it put strain on your friendship, or maybe just you. It was because you wanted to talk to him, you really did, but you had other, more pressing, things you needed to do. It was around that time, when you weren’t constantly seeing him for the first time in a few years, that you realized how much you relied on him, despite you being the one to remind him of homework and keep him out of trouble.

You wandered into the park. Kaminari took your hand and led you off the path and towards the pond.. You tilted your head in confusion, but followed. He stopped by the water next to a cherry blossom tree, though by now the pink petals were gone and replaced by glossy green leaves.

He stared out onto the water, you did the same. The night seemed so much more still here. The sky was a beautiful black with flecks of diamonds that reflected off of the water.

You almost forgot you were still holding hands.

"I've always wanted to take someone special to me here on a date." He smiled. "But I've never gotten to before."

"So, I'm the first?" Out of all everyone, were you really the only one to get to see this with him.

"Yep."

You thought for a second. "What about Natalie?"

He gave a small laugh, but one that was filled with some sort of bittersweet emotion. Sadness? Longing? None of those were really the right word. Maybe if there was a word that meant "remembering a happy what-could-have-been".

"Yeah. Natalie was amazing, but by the time I was comfortable enough to take her here our schedules didn't allow it."

You picked at your memory. "She was born in America, right?"

"Yeah, but she couldn't remember it since her family moved to Japan when she was three."

You nodded, then your eyes drifted downwards. "Sucks she had to move to Paris for her career."

"Yeah. But that’s in the past. I hope she's doing good right now. I bet she has awesome clothing lines out now." He stared up in the sky.

The tension was way too thick for you right now. You playfully bumped his arm. "Admit it, you liked her because she could draw."

"Yeah! Her drawings were amazing!" his eyes lit up and had a distant look, like he was remembering them. Then he paused "Waiiiiit, are you saying mine aren't good?"

"What? No, no!" 

You burst out laughing and he did the same. It rang out across the water and in the night air, where everyone could hear, but you didn't care. It felt like your own tiny world.

"You know," you started. "Back when you said that whole 'if we're thirty and single' thing, I thought you were joking. You know,” you said before he could respond, “Back in the last year of U.A. I actually did start to have feelings for you.”

“What?!” he jumped back in surprise. "You liked me? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because you didn’t feel the same.” 

“True,” he said in a quiet voice, “But I did earlier, you were just a year too late. I mean, since then I mostly saw you as a friend, but another part of me wondered what it would be like if we did date.”

You hummed and nodded. “But for me, it took me forever to get rid of those feelings. A part of me almost didn’t want to do this because then that time would be wasted.” Especially when it hurt so much and took so long.

He glanced at you, but didn’t say anything. You didn’t blame him. If you were him you wouldn’t be able to find any words for what you just said too.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

A silence fell on you.

He bit his lip. "So, I guess you're my friend, a really close one, but at the same time I also see you as something more. If that makes any sense." 

You nodded. "Yeah, I think it does." 

"So, you actually, really, like me, at least at some point?" He said slowly.

"Yes. Stop asking. This is really embarrassing." You covered your face with your hands.

"Hey! Don't cover your face!" 

He fought to get his fingers around your wrists to pull them apart. You did your best to keep them in place, hands shaking in effort, but he was stronger. You angled your face away in a futile attempt to prevent him from seeing it, but all with a smile on your face.

He put his finger under your chin and turned your head toward him. He was already smiling. The small amount of light coming from the city reflected in his eyes. But then his features softened. He leaned in ever so slightly.

"Gosh, you're beautiful." 

You could feel his breath fanning your face as he whispered. You felt yourself being pulled closer to him, as if some magic force moved you, and your lips met. The moment they touched, you felt a tingle, not quite like electricity, but there was no other way to describe it. You felt yourself relax. Muscles you didn’t even know were wound up went slack. You found your hand reaching to the back of his neck and gliding up into his hair. His arm snaked around your waist to hold you closer.

It was like your forgotten dreams were coming back to life, stronger and more vivid. You felt walls you built crumbling down before him as you melted into the kiss and the moment. And for that moment, you were the only ones in the world.

Then that moment ended. You suddenly squinted from a sudden flash of light.

The kiss broke from your mutual confusion. You blinked hard and looked to see where it came from. What you found was a guy, who appeared to be in his twenties, though it was hard to tell in the light. And in both his hands, he held a phone, ready to take a picture.

Oh, this was NOT happening.

You stomped up to him. The look of fear on his face was comical. It was hard to tell, but you think he turned pale.

“Delete that right. Now!”

He frantically nodded, fumbling with his phone. You stood over him, staring at his phone to make sure he deleted it and didn’t upload it to the internet. As you did so, Kaminari walked beside you and bumped you with his elbow.

“Still shy?” he whispered.

You pouted, eyes turning down slightly. You waited for the guy to be done. After inspecting his recent photos to make sure he did, you gave his phone back. He apologized before running away.

“I just don’t want anyone to know for now. It's just... this is personal for me. Just... give me time, okay?" you said.

"I've been waiting forever to be with you. I'm pretty sure I can wait to tell my friends about it." He wrapped his arm around you.

It was a beautiful night. The still water glistening. The trees decorating the horizon. The stars shining above you, witnessing the event. Crickets applauded you. Aside from that, the world was quiet, as if respecting this special moment 

.

.

.

"But seriously. Don't tell your friends about it, okay?" 

"Okay. Okay. I won't. I promise."

"That's what you said with the pop tart incident!" 

"Okay then, I pinky promise. On our love... and friendship! Alright?" 

"Alright."

[xsugarysweetsx]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 2

Previous Next

Warnings; Some language; kidnapping; mention of blood (but not violent; horribly written action

°°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°

“Uggghh I shouldn’t have drank last night“ you groan as the blaring of your alarm makes your head pound harder than it was. You blindly feel around for your phone to stop the annoying sound. Finally turning off the retched noise you sit up in bed and stretch upward.

“Another day...“ you said in a monotone morning voice. Throwing your legs over the bed you walk across the cold floor into your bathroom to get ready for work. You worked at a local cafe, it didn’t pay as much as you would want but, it got your bills paid. You brush your teeth, shower, and get dressed.

You refill Mochi’s bowls with food and water and you were on your way. After you lock your door you walk down the hall to the elevator. It seemed to be closing but was stopped by your neighbor, Eren. He was a fresh college graduate just a couple years younger than you

“Morning sleepyhead” he teased “Long night?”

“Don’t ask“ you said fixing your hair into a ponytail. Digging through your purse you find your keys and look up at Eren “How's job hunting going for ya” you ask as the elevator opens up to the parking lot. 

“Ass, they’re all ran by obnoxious old bastards“ he scoffed with a pout 

“Well if you keep going to places with that mentality it’ll be like that for a while.“ unlocking your car you get in and start it up “I can always try and get you a job at the cafe“ you offer closing your door

“Nah, I’ll be fine I’m heading to a tattoo parlor to see where I can start there. See ya“ he waves over his head as he walks the other way to his bike 

“bye.“ you said aimlessly as you start to pull out of your spot and on your way to work. The streets busy with all kinds of people business owners, office workers, cops, and the list goes on. The cafe wasn’t too far, just a 10 minute drive was all. After you park you get out of your car and a sigh leaves your lips 

“Another day, another order“ you sigh opening the door and walking to the back. The shop was small but cozy, the smells of teas and coffee filled the air as buzz of baristas and customers filled your ears. You throw on your apron and get to the front where you took orders. 

“Hey, how’d you sleep?“ Christa asked, one of your coworkers “Sasha told us about the date, I’m sorry you had to experience that“ she was always so sweet and compassionate

“Hey can’t win them all, besides he was full if himself“ you smile to the next customer that comes to the counter “Good morning what will you like?“

“Small Black tea, no sugar“ the man said in a monotone. Working here you saw all walks of life. This man was dressed in a grey button up with black slacks, dress shoes, sunglasses and had an umbrella in hand. He was also noticeably pale, maybe he was sensitive to the sun and got sunburned easily. You weren’t one to judge. 

“That will be $5.15 sir“ he hands you the exact amount and stands to the side to wait. After about 5 minutes you serve him his tea and that was when you made eye contact. Striking grey-blue eyes met yours and for a moment your heart skipped a beat. He looked down quickly and grabbed his tea 

“Thank you“ and he left. You walk back to the counter not even noticing the burning of your cheeks

“ooo was that a romantic encounter I saw?“ Sasha nudges you as she passes by. You simply scoff and shake your head and move on with your day

“Can I help who’s next!“

<><><><>

Tch today couldn’t be anymore shitty. It’s sunny as hell, I saw her again, and I’m pretty sure she recognized me

Levi thought to himself as he walked along the sidewalk, his umbrella overhead. He walks a few blocks until he reaches a bar and grill he walks past the bar and to the back of the kitchen. Walking past the chefs and serves, he goes into a backroom with an elevator. 

For lack of a better term, it was an underground. Where more people like him were free to roam. They lived exactly like people, they had jobs, houses, some with families, only they were vampires. A secret society if you will. This was a faster way of getting to the city and back to his Coven. His consisted of about 5 major people, Erwin called the shots, he kept things in order, Hanji did research when needed, and Mike who was a security guard in a way.

Everyone else joins in at some point or were taken in by Erwin. They were pretty well known among other vampires. Walking along the way he makes a stop for some blood. Even though he despised even the thought of it, he had to survive. He would go to a blood supply shop and mix in some with his tea kill the taste of it.

Thanking the shop owner he leaves and continues his way back home. Suddenly something heavy is thrown over his shoulder, causing him to stumble a bit. 

“Levi! Did you check up on our girl?“ he knew that voice too well. Zeke of all people. He actually used to be part of his Coven, and probably one of the best but after a certain incident he was kicked out. Ever since he’s been getting on Levi’s last nerve, especially when it had to do with people going missing.

Technically it would be humans’ problem to solve, but if they find out why and how they went missing, it would only be bad for vampires. Possibly even death for them, even though half of them are over 100 years old. Nonetheless, he can’t have someone constantly slipping up, but at the same time he doesn’t want to babysit a full grown man.

“Listen you bastard, she isn’t yours no is she mine. I got a tea without knowing she was there. Now get your big ass off me before I break your arms.“ he threatened brushing past Zeke and making way back on route. Zeke simply stood there, with a smile, the type of smile that couldn’t mean anything good

“Oh it’s just a matter of time, Levi“

<><><><>

“You sure you want to close Y/N? I can always stay“

“It’s no problem I know you have a baby waiting at home so I don’t mind“ it was already time to close.

Your manager insisted on staying with you but you knew she was busy and just had a baby. She thanked you again and you started to lock up everything. Closing the cash registers, wiping down the counter and locking the door. It was cold that night and you wish you brought a jacket.

Surprisingly the street wasn’t as full as usual. A chill ran up your spine, making you feel uneasy. You slowly pick up the pace, you and your car insight but you no judo to shake off this feeling. Like a cold icy glare at the back of head. Almost like an ice cube running down your spine.

You end up running to your car, and make it to the door panting. You turn around sharply and take in your surroundings. Nothing—not a soul.

“*Sigh* get a grip damn it! Just get home and you’ll be fine” you scold yourself as you open your car and get inside. Checking the backseat no one was there, you don’t waste any more time and drive off. The drive was short and you may have speed in a little.

You’re finally home, you make sure to lock your door twice. There was still something strange going on, usually Mochi was at the door meowing at you for being gone all day.

“Mochi?” You call as you walk through the apartment only to find him in your room. “Oh there you are” you go and pick him up but his gaze is fixated on window. His body was tense and he even had a low growl in his chest. Looking there was nothing to be seen so you brushed it off as him being a cat. Yet, you looked one more time and your heart dropped in lot your stomach.

Zeke. There he was standing at your window. He raises his fist and smashes it through your window. You let out a shriek as you run with Mochi into the kitchen. You open the drawer and grab a knife and turn around frantically. Your hand was shaking, your pulse was racing, and you’re adrenaline was through the roof. The apartment was dark and cool and the room was deafeningly quiet. The silence was broke as a growl like voice said

“Now, now princess don’t play hard to get. This will only take a moment” he said a bit to slightly as he started to inches away to you. He pulled out look look like to be a small white rag and you could only think of one thing “could this really be my end?”

Without thinking you drop Moshi end jump forward to try and learn him. But you miss, and he is somehow behind you in the blink of an eye. He holds your hands behind your back as he smacks the rag on to your mouth.

You struggle against his vice grip, but you couldn’t seem to shake them off or even let you kick on him. You try not to breathe and won’t ever was in that ride but you felt your consciousness slowly slip away from you. Your vision begins to go blurry, your head was light, and your leg start to get out. 

Is this how I die...? Is this....my end...

“Shhh that’s it Y/N, that’s it. Just sleep until I get you back” he chuckled “they’re all gonna get a kick out of this”

<><><><>

Taglist: @mysteriousmagicx @kameko-ko @jin-mowi @mystic-starlove @chronic-claire-universe​ @shrimp1026 @captainchrisstan @givemea-dam-break @actual-trash-goblin @leiaausmus @sugarysweets-appreciation-blog @levisfilm @kingdoms--night--star @leviiiiiiiii @dilirx @super-peace-fangirl @ultimateelitepenguin @happygalaxymilkshake @lola2001 @sillykawa @queenofcurse @fanfictionreaderholic

[hermannsthumb]

If you’re still doing summer prompts, could you do graduation for newmann?

15. Graduation

from (the very old) summer prompts meme here

enjoy some awkward pre-canon jaeger academy ~ROOMMATES~!! also I am pretty sure this message/prompt is from at least a year ago (if not TWO) but it was only today that I really thought about what I wanted to write for it and wrote in like a FRENZY. content warning for alcohol (no like intoxication tho)

--------

It was hardly to be expected that Newton would be mature over the whole thing, but Hermann finds himself in a perpetual state of agitation the final weeks of their enrollment at the Jaeger Academy anyway. Newton was very young, Hermann knows, when he graduated from university (at least he was young the first time he graduated), and he can only assume the man took it rather hard that he didn’t get to have the proper send-off he thought he deserved—all-night parties with kegerators and beer pong, one-dollar shots at dive bars, trips to the seaside with classmates. One wasn’t likely to invite someone who’d barely breached his teens and still had braces to those sorts of things, after all. It’s the only reason Hermann can think of as to why Newton has spent the month—the whole month—popping open champagne at all hours and organizing spin-the-bottle in the base rec room and generally being a great bloody nuisance to everyone they have the misfortune of sharing their graduating class with. Over-compensation is what it is.

Having Newton as his bunkmate adds a special level of unbearableness to it all. At least—and Hermann does thank the stars above for this—tomorrow marks the end of a very miserable month. A very miserable two years.

“Everyone is going to be there,” Newton says. He’s wearing an oversized pair of neon sunglasses over his regular glasses, for some reason, those abhorrently dated kind with the slatted lenses, and dangling from his left hand are two bottles of pink champagne. A bag of plastic cups dangles in the other. “Everyone. Not even just the k-scientists—the techs, the ranger trainees, the—”

“That all sounds very thrilling,” Hermann says, hefting a stack of button-ups into a cardboard box he’s labeled Clothing – Gottlieb. “You’re aware, I assume, that we’re meant to be moving out tomorrow, and you’ve not touched anything on your side of the room?”

“Dude, I have sooo much time,” Newton says. Hermann realizes now the seal on one of the champagne bottles is broken—which might explain some of Newton’s suspiciously carefree mood. “Besides, I barely even have that much shit here.”

This is patently untrue. Newton’s clothing is overflowing from his dresser; manga and monster action figures and vinyl records clutter up every inch of its top surface; there’s laundry under his bed, on his bed, his guitar picks on Hermann’s bedside table, dirty mugs on his own, half-finished reports and articles scattered over his desk… “Fine,” Hermann says. “But I haven’t finished, at any rate, so I won’t be joining you.”

Newton flops down next to him on his bed; the stopper on the opened champagne bottle wobbles dangerously, and Hermann moves quickly to push it in more firmly so he doesn’t have to add a load of bed linens to his To-Do list. “I think you need to unwind, roomie,” Newton says, grinning up at him. Both pairs of his glasses have slipped off his nose and onto Hermann’s bedspread. “We’ll have all day tomorrow after the dumb ceremony to pack, and you haven’t taken a break in, like, seven years. You’ve earned one.”

Hermann doesn’t want to take a break, or at least not in the way Newton is suggesting. Hermann wants to finish packing up his half of the room, then his designated workspace in the large k-science laboratory, and then take a shower to wash himself of the experience of being Newton Geiszler’s roommate and labmate for two years too many. Noticing his reticence, Newton adds, pleadingly, “Come for one hour? Just to do two shots with me? One shot?” He blinks, half-blind without his glasses, as if trying to discern whether or not Hermann looks likely to give in. “No shots? C’mon, Hermann, you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Hermann says, frowning.

Newton nudges him with the stack of plastic cups. “Y’know—for the sake of your ol’ penpal,” he says.

The reference to their letter-writing days jars Hermann, and despite his best efforts not to show it to Newton, his hand trembles as he deposits an unopened pack of white socks into his laundry box. He thinks it may be the first time either of them have brought it up in the entirety of their time at the Academy. It’s certainly the first time either of them have admitted to even the slightest notion of a shared history since—a week into their first year here, at an ice-breaking event for their kaiju-science peers—Newton had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly when someone attempted to introduce him to Hermann and said “Yeah, Dr. Gottlieb and I go wayyyy back.” Hermann did not admit so at the time, but the use of the honorific in place of his first name had been unexpectedly wounding—ridiculous of him, considering he made a point of referring to Newton in precisely the same way. Perhaps that little slip of the tongue had been why they were assigned as roommates scarcely a week later. An assumed friendship.

Hermann picks up Newton’s thick eyeglasses and carefully slips them back onto Newton’s upside-down face. Newton wrinkles his nose when Hermann’s thumb accidentally brushes against its tip. “I just don’t like parties very much, Newton,” he says. He’s not sure when Dr. Geiszler became Newton to him, or rather, became Newton to him again.

“Then we can do something together here,” Newton says.

He sits up and pushes the sealed champagne bottle at Hermann’s chest. “This is for you, anyway. Graduation present. Bury the hatchet, you know—odds are pretty fucking high we’re never gonna see each other again, so there’s no use hating each other forever.”

In spite of his better judgement, Hermann takes the champagne bottle. One drink won’t hurt him. And anyway, it might be a little relaxing—so long as it’s one drink only, because he still has an entire two years’ worth of research to pack away in his laboratory desk. “Do you know where you’re being assigned already, then?” he says. He was under the impression they wouldn’t find out until after the ceremony tomorrow—bit last minute, he supposes, but it’s not as if they’re making their own travel arrangements, and nearly all of their colleagues have already brought their families along with them to the Academy base.

“Nah,” Newton says, “but I wrote down a lot on my request form.” He motions for Hermann to hand him back the bottle, and he begins unscrewing the wire holding down the cork. “Tokyo—Peru—" He moves the bottle away from the bed as he pops it open with a grunt of effort, and a small bit of foam spills to the cement floor. Hermann grits his teeth and tries not to worry about cleaning it up later. “—Los Angeles. I worked on one of my PhDs in California, you know, a few weeks one July. Sea sponges. I learned how to scuba dive, I loved it—I think that’s one of the first things I’m gonna do if—once this is all over.”

He looks strangely maudlin as Hermann pours himself some champagne into one of the plastic cups and suffers through a sip. Too sweet. Hermann’s never liked sweet wines—bloody awful hangovers the next day, if one isn’t careful.

“Their entire ecosystem would be destroyed now, I guess,” Newton says. “Kaiju blue poisoning.”

“Whose?” Hermann says.

“The sea sponges’,” Newton says.

Hermann sips more of the champagne so he won’t have to respond. “I requested Anchorage,” he offers. Among plenty others, but he knows Newton will get a kick out of ribbing him for the dreary Alaskan climate. It seems to work—Newton lights up at once with a loud snort.

“Of course you did, ya weirdo,” he says. “Have fun freezing your ass off.” He takes a sip right from his bottle, then holds it out to Hermann. “Well, Hermann—you were an annoying lab partner, an even more annoying roommate, but a decent penpal, and I’m—well, I’m not gonna miss you, but I guess I can’t say I hate everything about you. Good luck with the jaegers. Good luck to whoever gets stuck with you next, actually, yikes, don’t envy them! Here’s to never seeing each other again.”

Hermann rolls his eyes, but knocks his plastic cup against Newton’s bottle. “Best of luck to you, as well,” he says. “And here’s to—well, surviving.”

“That’s cheerful,” Newton says.

They drink to their toast. Down the hall, someone puts on loud music to a chorus of equally loud cheers. Hermann reckons that’ll be Newton’s party. “You ought to head over there,” he says, turning briefly to glance at their door, which Newton has left cracked open. “Otherwise, they’ll miss—”

Newton kisses him.

Hermann doesn’t necessarily kiss back, but he doesn’t push Newton away, either. He’s more bewildered than anything. He might’ve expected this sort of thing to happen years ago—years, and years ago, before that dreadful first meeting in some dingy little Berlin coffee shop, back when a new letter from Dr. Geiszler slipped through his mail slot could make his heart thud like nothing else—but they’ve hardly been anything to each other but colleagues these past two years. Not even quite colleagues—that implies a civility they don’t possess. Professional academic rivals. He was under the impression that the man hated him, that the data when they underwent standard tests for drift compatibility was merely a fluke.

His empty cup falls from his hand and clatters to the floor. Newton slides a hand up Hermann’s jaw and keeps kissing him; he makes a small, needy noise into Hermann’s mouth.

“Newton,” Hermann finally mumbles. “What are you doing?”

Newton pulls back. A brilliant red flush is creeping steadily across his face, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before anything comes out. “Oh, shit,” he says. “I didn’t mean—”

He stumbles to his feet. “Shit, dude, I’m sorry, I like—”

“Newton?” Hermann repeats. He feels about as dazed as Newton looks; he’s not quite sure what he’s meant to say. His lips are tingling from the kiss. “I—?”

“I’m gonna go to the party,” Newton stammers. “Sorry, dude, I—misread signals? I guess? Um—” He steps on Hermann’s forgotten cup and skids slightly, catching and righting himself on one of Hermann’s bed posts. The movement knocks Hermann’s cane (hooked there) to the floor, and Newton must bend down twice before he succeeds in picking it up. “Just—um—okay, bye.”

Hermann stares at the door for a long time after Newton leaves. Tomorrow marks the end of their two years cohabitating and working together—as Newton said, odds are high their paths will never cross again. Hermann had been counting down the days to their graduation in a little calendar he keeps pinned neatly to his wall, daydreaming endlessly of the first thing he would do once he was free from the suffocating cloud of Newton Geiszler’s presence—daydreaming of the like-minded non-Geiszlerian colleagues he would meet at his Shatterdome assignment, of a neat and orderly laboratory devoid of kaiju residue over every communal surface, of his own living quarters. He should be excited. He should be ecstatic.

Hermann touches his mouth and feels nothing but strange sort of hollowness in his chest—a black hole enveloping all else.

---

He doesn’t see Newton until their graduation ceremony the next day, an affair made all the more awkward by the seating chart’s alphabetical arrangement ensuring Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb will be knocking elbows for the full two hours. Newton is late by nearly twenty minutes, and rushes in with badly unkempt hair and a backwards tie: Hermann has a feeling he’d been lurking outside their quarters and waiting for Hermann to leave before he dared dart in to get himself ready. He wonders where Newton spent the night. He wonders why he even cares. Likely passed out on the rec room floor after the party, judging from the confetti stuck to his left cheek—or perhaps he’d finally made a move on the fellow kaiju-biologist Hermann recalls him extolling the physicality of on more than one occasion, and spent the night with him—or perhaps he did neither, and merely wandered the base for hours, sleep evading him as it’d so entirely evaded Hermann. They don’t acknowledge each other for the whole of the ceremony.

Hermann is summoned to the office of the jaeger science program head (a severe woman with short hair) later that evening, shortly after he finishes taping up his very last box of papers in the vacant laboratory. He’s handed a small manila folder containing the details of his Shatterdome assignment: Hong Kong, as it turns out. One of his requests. “Since you and Dr. Newton Geiszler have displayed a strong work ethic when partnered together,” the woman begins, “as well as a very high level of drift compatibility—”

Hermann’s eyes snap up from his folder to her face.

“—we’ll be assigning him to Hong Kong’s kaiju science division along with you, under the assumption that together you will only continue to produce positive results.”

“Pardon?” Hermann says, weakly.

Newton has finished boxing up a majority of his belongings when Hermann drags himself through the door to their quarters an hour later. He glances at Hermann briefly, embarrassedly, and says, in a small voice, “Hey, Hermann.”

“Newton,” Hermann says.

He walks over and sits down heavily atop the pile of sheets on his stripped bed. Something pokes at his thigh, and he sets aside his cane to fumble through the sheet bundle to discover what: Newton’s forgotten neon shuttered shades. The sight of them sends his stomach twisting up in knots. “Oh, hey,” Newton says, as he wraps a Godzilla action figure with bubble wrap. He nods at the manila envelope clenched between Hermann’s fingers. “Where are they shipping you off to? I’m going to Hong Kong—should be cool. I’ve never been before.” He places the little Godzilla in a carboard box. Newt - Junk! the side says in purple Sharpie. “My flight leaves tomorrow afternoon—you’re right, I definitely should’ve started packing earlier, I have no idea how I’m gonna get this all done by then.”

Hermann stares at Newton in poorly-concealed amazement as he continues to ramble on about how to pack up his instruments and whether or not they’ll let him bring his first-ever kaiju sample with him (he’s attached to it, even though he knows it’s technically the academy’s property, but maybe he can find a way to smuggle it out in his checked bags or something). Does he not know? Did they not tell him? How could they let this fall on Hermann? “Newton,” he says, slowly. “I’ve been assigned to Hong Kong, too.”

Newton freezes. “No fucking way,” he says.

[etoileholland]

Love showed up at my door

Based on the iconic Jonas Brothers song

Pairing: Tom Holland x female reader

Warnings: none, but it’s cheesy ;)

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Tom and Harrison fell in love with the pizza girl, and now they’ve been eating a lot of pizza

A/N: Yes I have uploaded this about six times because the tags are not working and I am sorry. 

It started one unsuspecting Thursday in New York, when Marvel was filming a scene from Spider-Man 3 off of 86th and 2nd Avenue in Manhattan. Tom was busy filming, and half a day and a lot of filming later, he and Harrison trudged to their trailer before collapsing on the couch.

“I swear man, I’ve never been more exhausted and famished in my life.” Harrison remarked as he slightly turned his head to see Tom sprawled out. “You know what sounds really good? Pizza. I could go for some pizza right about now.”

“Good idea. Hey, let’s order pizza from Vinnie’s down the way. It’s suspiciously cheap but super good and quick.” Tom suggested as he flipped himself over onto his back.

“Is that how you would be described if you were a male escort?” Harrison smirked and was met with a pillow being thrown at his face.

“Shut up and order the damn pizza.” Tom groaned as Harrison ordered online.

“Okay it’ll be here in about 10, so we just need to hold out until then.” He stated while Tom nodded his head.

“Wake me up when it gets here.” He added and Harrison agreed to do so.

About eleven minutes later there was a knock at the door, and Harrison mustered up the last bit of energy he had to walk to the door. He opened it up to see you, and his jaw dropped.

“Oh hello.” He ran his fingers through his hair, while lightly clearing his throat.

“Hello to you too. You ordered two large pizzas, one pepperoni with extra cheese and the other Hawaiian, correct?” You asked, while he began to nod his head profusely.

“Cool, it’ll be $11.56 please.” You stated as you handed him the pizzas, but he stood there frozen.

“Oh I, um, don’t have any money on me. Hold on a second.” He closed the door slightly and ran over to Tom before pushing him off the couch.

“What the hell-”

“Shut up, the pizza delivery girl is super pretty and I don’t have any American cash so give me a twenty.” He begged and Tom jumped up to open the door to see what you looked like.

You were standing there looking like an angel, and your hair was in a ponytail with little tendrils of hair framing your face. He began to choke on air as he saw you smile, and he knew that he would be ordering from Vinnie’s more frequently.

“Hello, um hi. I have twenty pounds, erm dollars for the pizzas.” He said and you smiled.

“That’s good, otherwise I would have to eat these pizzas by myself.” You laughed as Tom guffawed.

“Wow you are funny, and extremely beautiful.” He gasped, holding his hand over his mouth.

“Thank you, here’s the change and enjoy the pizzas.” You waved, making your way down the steps of the trailer.

He closed the door and leaned against it, before letting out a sigh. “God must be real, because she is clearly an angel among us mortals.” He said longingly and Harrison laughed.

“Did you see the way her eyes flickered under the trailer’s fluorescent lights? She’s gorgeous.” He added and took a large bite of a slice of pizza.

“I never thought I would say this but I think Vinnie’s may just be the best pizza, to like, ever exist.” Tom said as he grabbed a slice of pizza and folded it in half, before taking a large bite.

“Wanna have pizza tomorrow night?” Harrison asked with a grin and Tom agreed.

“Oh well be having it every night.”

—

“You know Holland, your suit is getting to be a tad bit too tight, and is that a pot belly I see?” His personal trainer Matt inquired. Everyone had noticed how sluggish and out of breath Tom had been recently, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by Matt.

“Maybe, I’ve been eating a lot of pizza recently.” He added as he patted his stomach and let out a burp. “Oh god I feel sick.”

“Yeah you don’t look good, why are you constantly getting pizza then? You know you’re supposed to be on a strict diet.”

“I-” burp “know. It’s just that the pizza delivery girl from Vinnie’s pizza is so gorgeous so Haz and I have been ordering from there every night to see her for a few minutes.”

“Suddenly that makes sense. Okay well do you even know her name?”

“It’s Y/N and gosh she looks like an angel. She smells like vanilla mixed with pizza which sounds utterly disgusting but she’s beautiful so it’s okay.” He rambled as he took a seat on the bench press. “Do you mind if I sleep here for like an hour because whew am I already out of energy.” Tom wiped his hand across his forehead and Matt laughed.

“We haven’t even done anything, you just walked in here a few minutes ago.”

“And that was too much physical energy for today.” He held up his pointer finger and Matt rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, just no more pizza for like the next year, you got it?” Matt crossed his arms in front of his chest and Tom did a thumbs up.

“You got it dude.” He replied as he curled up in a ball on the bench press.

—

“You know Tom, I’m starting to worry about your health. You now have acne, and your face is red and puffy. Also do you have a pot belly now?” You remarked as you stood in the doorway of the trailer.

“Maybe. But it’s okay, I’ll burn it off eventually.” He patted his stomach and let out a groan. Harrison was sprawled out on the couch and you could see that he was wearing sweatpants that accentuated his newly acquired love handles.

“Right, well for the safety of you both, I’m not going to give you the pizza.” You shifted your weight to your right leg as you continued to hold onto the boxes. “Actually, why have you been ordering pizza every night for the past two weeks?”

“Because we wanted to see you.” Harrison replied, but it was muffled due to the fact that his face was buried in the couch.

“Really? That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” You put your hand on your heart and gave a little pout, which only made Tom melt. “But you know that this isn’t the best quality pizza, and you may need a coronary bypass surgery after this.”

“I know, but we wanted to see you, even if it meant putting our health on the line.” Tom rubbed the nape of his neck and you smiled.

“I care about you both, so if you want, you can call me, but not for pizza. Just in general.” You set the boxes of pizza down and pulled out a business card from your pocket. You then grabbed a pen from the end table and wrote your number on the back of it. You handed Tom the card as he looked down at it like he won the golden ticket.

“Thank you. Hey would you, um, want to go on a date with me?” Tom hesitantly asked and you only smiled.

“Oh honey you’re adorable, but I’m already in a relationship. However, I would love to be your friend.” You stated while Tom looked down and nodded. “And besides, I only took the job to help pay for school but I’m graduating. I’m moving out of New York next month anyway.”

“That’s fair, thank you for everything, and good luck with your post graduation life.” He added and you smiled.

“Thank you, I would love to hang out with you guys soon, but now I’m going to take this pizza back. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.” You took a few steps closer to the door and stopped. “Try eating a salad for a change.” You reached for the door handle and waved, and Tom waved back.

“Will do, bye.” Tom closed the door behind you and let out a sigh. He turned to look at Harrison, who was halfway off the couch.

“It wasn’t worth it mate, was it?” Tom asked and Harrison groaned. “It might sound cheesy, but I wanted her to stay.” He replied, his voice still muffled.

“Me too mate, me too.” He walked over to Harrison and patted him lightly on the shoulder. “Let’s order from that vegan place from down the street.”

——

Additional A/N: as always, requests and prompts are open! And let me know if you want to be added to the taglist 💛

Mes anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow @starkissedholland @fangirlwithasweettooth @lmaotshollandd @musicalkeys

[devil-in-those-eyes]

One Day Part 2- Rudy Pankow

GUYS, I am SO sorry. I didn't think it would take me this long to get to part two, and I would have finished it yesterday, had I not lost my documents to do with this story, so I actually lost a few people that wanted to be tagged, so if you find it and you’re not there, please message me and I will get you added. This part isn't what I originally wanted, I wanted more added but I didn't want to overload you guys, so it’ll be continued in the next part. 

I hope you guys love this part.

Taglist: @thebendslikebendover @awkwardnesshabitat @dpaccione @danicarosaline @infinityspacesuniverse @pogues-never-say-die @poguescollins  @collectiveuniverses @jjmaybankx @diorsfxck @1d5sosddl @k-k0129 @popcrone818 

~

           “You literally promised.”

           “Something came up,” you tried again, looking up from your plate of food and at Henning, who had stolen a chair from a table that an older couple was sitting at and made room for himself as you sat at a little café with Kennedy, Zoe and Jamie for breakfast.

           “Something came up?” Henning echoed, leaning his elbow on the arm rest and leaned closer to you. “You promised me and Jamie you’d come.”

           You did promise him and you couldn’t deny it, but you also couldn’t tell him the real reason why you were suddenly going back on your word. The Pankow’s were having their yearly family cookout and they always extended the offer to you, despite the break up because they adored you. This year, when Jamie and Henning begged you to come, you agreed. Except, when you agreed Rudy wasn’t home. And you two didn’t have an argument on the back porch of Jamie’s cabin.

           There was no way in hell you could go, but again you couldn’t tell Henning that his older brother was the reason why. To Henning, Rudy was absolutely everything. Rudy and Alec were idolized in his eyes, they were the reason the sun shined and the moon and stars came out at night. To you, Henning was still the little kid that ran around pulling your hair and annoying, granted he still actually did it, he didn’t fully understand what happened or why and you didn’t expect him too. You kept him in the dark because it didn’t concern him and you didn’t want to make him feel like he had to pick sides when you were still showing up to his soccer matches and joining Jamie and Penny and Andrew to his high school graduation. He was too young when you and Rudy broke each others hearts and he never experienced love like what was between you and Rudy, he just wouldn’t get it.

           “I just can’t,” you said, lifting your coffee and taking a sip.

           “Y/N, we live in freaking Alaska,” he said in a bored groan, “you work for your mom and dad, what could possibly have come up since two nights ago?”

           “Henning, I just can’t,” you said, your voice a little loud. You closed your eyes briefly before turning your eyes onto Henning and you instantly saw Rudy in him. They couldn’t be more opposite, but he did the same thing Rudy used to do when you guys fought.

           His jaw clenched, as if pushing his tongue against his teeth, before slowly dragging his eyes up to look at you, filled with disappointment. He was looking at you the same way that Rudy looked at you at the party. “Fine, Y/N.”

           You sighed as he pushed the chair back, “Henning, wait.”

           But he was gone, walking away in easy and long strides, heading towards his car. Your chest caved in on itself because you hated disappointing Henning.

           “Y’know that Penny and Andrew are doing it for Rudy, right?” Jamie said softly, to your right. You looked at him to see him lifting his mug, “Penny would be upset if you bailed, especially since she asked if you’d come.”

           If Jamie wanted to jab a little harder and add a little guilt trip into it, then adding about Penny was the freaking way to do it. You all but groaned at his words as the guilt suddenly washed over you.

           You were totally aware that Penny would be upset if you bailed. You were also aware that it was for Rudy, you just didn’t know it when Jamie and Henning asked you to be there.. You didn’t know that Penny and Andrew were planning it in celebration for their son in the beginning, but now you could see it clearly. You also knew Penny would be upset if you didn’t show your face. Penny was like the mother of all mothers, in everyone’s eyes she was perfect. She was the one anyone could tell anything too, she was your mom when yours wasn’t picking up the phone. She had all but adopted Jamie when he and Rudy met in elementary school. She opened her arms wide when Rudy came home and announced you were his girlfriend and she kept those arms open when you broke up.

           Penny and Andrew never made you feel awkward, or as if their son was better off without you. She was always warm and had a colorful aura about her, it was like she ignored the heart break you felt because all she wanted to do was act like the break up never happened. Sometimes you wondered if she was still silently rooting for you and Rudy and it made it harder, because you had to stop wishing for it.

           “Jamie,” you started but then stopped yourself, looking down at your food. In all actuality, you didn’t know if you could see Rudy after two nights ago. It brought back too many feelings, too many memories and for some reason, you just couldn’t shake him, even years later.

           Why would you subject yourself to it? Subject yourself to his judgmental eyes as he questioned your taste in men? He couldn’t judge, or speak on who you decided to date because it wasn’t his concern, he made it perfectly clear the type of friendship he wanted to keep with you. And that was the type of friendship that never spoke.

           “You don’t even have to speak to Rudy,” Kennedy tried, trying to smile but failed miserably.

           “What the hell, yes she does. It’s his party, dumbass.” Zoe argued before looking at me, “Listen, pull on those big girl panties and just go, for Penny.”

           Zoe’s jab about quit being a pussy was softened by bringing up Penny, almost made you smile. Nothing bad could come out of going, right? Alec was finally home and you hadn’t seen him in years, it would make your week to see Penny and Andrew. And who knows, maybe Rudy will be so busy with talking with family and entertaining Chase that he wouldn’t even notice you there.

           All you had to do was go, show your face to his parents, shove it in Henning’s face and stay for an hour. Tops. Then you can retreat back to your safe haven of a home and pretend like you were well on your way with moving on from Rudy.

           Lying to yourself will get you no where.

           You ignored the little voice in your head and said softly, “Fine.”

           Jamie and Zoe looked all too smug that they had guilted you into it. Kennedy just sat there, raising her glass of water to her mouth, using her swallow of water to hide her smile. She might not have done as much as the other too, but she sure as shit was happy you’d be there.

           While they went on with their conversation, talking about what they wanted to do this summer as a group, besides work and prepare for an upcoming final year of school. While this happened, you sat there silently and couldn’t help but start to feel like the world was sinking around on you.

           What good would this bring you? Zoe and Kennedy understood where you stood with your feelings on Rudy, but for some freaking reason they were pushing and you didn’t understand what they were pushing for. Were they that blind, did they honestly believe Rudy would somehow stay longer than a week? Or two weeks? No, he wouldn’t. His life was now in California and yours was here, thousands of miles away. You were living separate lives and it was too different to pull off long distance… right?

           Typically, summer days went quickly for you. It had a lot to do with the fact that you were either working or with your group of friends finding things to do, but today just seemed to drag on. You were stuck inside your head and couldn’t get out, wondering how tonight would go with Rudy somewhere nearby, your stomach was constantly swirling with nervous butterflies, heart thumping heavily as you slowly pulled up to the Pankow residence. Hands trembled and knees shook as you parked your car among the others that littered the street.

           Just breathe.

           It wasn’t like Rudy would be upset that you were going to show your face. It wasn’t like you and Rudy left Jamie’s porch angry at one another, in fact you heard the pain inside his voice and saw the sadness drowning his blue ocean eyes. You saw the way his eyes avoided you, could barely look at you as Tucker wrapped his arms around your shoulders, as if he could barely stomach the idea of you being with someone that wasn’t him.

           Rudy being home threw you off so deeply that you hadn’t really talked with Tucker the last few days. You’ve been so stuck in the memories and living in the world of what if that Tucker hadn’t been on your mind, but he didn’t seem to mind. You and Tucker weren’t officially together, he wasn’t your boyfriend, you two were just dating and having fun. Or attempting to have fun.

           Just breathe.

           The backyard of the Pankow residence was swimming with people. Lots of them you recognized from his family, his uncles and aunts and cousins and family friends, teachers that Rudy had bonded deeply with. But no where did you find the familiarity of Zoe’s deep green eyes, or Kennedy’s blonde hair, of Jamie’s laugh that seemed to calm you as you stood, sticking out like a sore thumb.

           You wiped your sweaty palms over the thighs of your ripped jeans, tugging your light sweater closer to your chest, looking around for them.

           A blur of short, light colored hair and blue dress moved around you but then whirled around after seemingly catching sight of you.

           “Well, well, look who decided to grace me with her presence.” Penny teased, coming to a stop in front of you while carrying a big bowl of salad.

           Your cheeks flamed as she grinned at you. “Hi, Penny.”

           “Aren’t you a sight,” she said, taking you in. “You aren’t the skinny little seventeen year old anymore, are ya?”

           “Oh, god, please stop.” You groaned, your hand covering your cheek, attempting to stop the blush. You hated when she did this, giving compliment after compliment when she saw you. You didn’t think you changed too much since seventeen, but apparently you did. You gained a few pounds, thank you college, hair longer and better choices in clothing.

           Penny laughed and stepped towards you, “Bring it in, hon.”

           Penny balanced the bowl on her hip and opened an arm wide, you couldn’t help yourself in feeling giddy. You always loved Penny. You had a great relationship with your parents, but Penny was Penny, and the idea of seeing her smiling at you was part of the reason why you got out of your car.

She rubbed your back and pulled away, “You’re not leaving this house until we catch up, so have some wine and food and I’ll find you.”

           “Deal,” you promised her and watched as she walked away.

           For the first time all day, your lungs opened up and a steady breath filled your body. It released in a heavy puff, but you finally felt somewhat comfortable being here. Now, all you had to do was find your friends.

           “They’re in the kitchen.”

           You nearly fell over by the sudden voice that appeared behind you, startling you and making you whirl around to find Rudy standing there, with his hands in the front pockets of his light jeans. Your heart screamed at you as one hand reached up and slid through his hair and rested on the back of his neck, “Kennedy and Zoe dragged Jamie inside to make margaritas… that’s who you’re looking for, right?”

           He looked so handsome in his jeans and white button up shirt, that was tucked into the waist of his jeans. You felt your heart thump to a soft murmur of his name. Rudy.

           “Why am I not surprised?” you said, finally finding your voice.

           “Yeah, apparently Zo and Kenn don’t like beer?” He asked, “and my aunt brought long island mix and that’s out of the question?”

           As Rudy spoke, your face twisted into a grimace and your stomach twisted. Rudy smiled immediately at your face and you said, “We learned real quick at college that long islands are not our thing.”

           “Yeah, Zo said something about snow angels in the dead ass of winter?” Rudy said, seeming to get rid of nervous tension in his shoulders and relaxing as he looked down at you, still grinning.

           “Listen, the bartender was really nice but we didn’t know that those contain every liquor on shelf.” You defended, remembering the first winter break you guys had come home from college and ended up at a bar outside of town where the bartender didn’t card. “It didn’t hit us until Jamie and Collin tried getting us home.”

           Rudy chuckled lowly, “god, what a sight that probably was.”

           “I don’t actually remember doing the snow angels, but I woke up shivering and throwing up, massive hangover.”

           This time, Rudy’s laugh was loud and you suddenly felt a swell inside your chest that resembled proud. Proud that you made him laugh like you used too, the type of laugh that had his head tilting back and his eyes closing briefly. He looked back down at you and shook his head, “Baby-” Rudy caught himself, quickly recovering, “Y/N, come on. You shouldn’t have trusted the bartender.”

           You almost didn’t catch it, but you were paying such close attention to him that it was clear as day. The last few minutes felt too closely to old times that it showed you he still hadn’t broken the habit of calling you baby, you almost begged him to say it again, just to hear it roll off of his tongue.

           The idea of hearing it again had you blushing and looking down. You cleared your throat before lifting your head and motioning to Rudy’s porch, “In the kitchen?”

           Silently, still watching you, he nodded. You moved around him and started making your way inside. Rudy followed you, and suddenly you went from being calm to your palms sweating, all because he called you baby.

           Your friends were where he said, standing in a corner of the kitchen next to the blender. Jamie stood with Rudy’s friend, Chase, with beers in their hands while the two girls looked excited for the mixed drinks, a bottle of Patron sat next to the blender.

           Kennedy was the first to see you and a broad grin broke out on her face, “Best friend!”

           You laughed as Zoe’s head whipped around, her arms widening at the sight of you. “Bestie!”

           “Friends!” You exclaimed excitedly and left Rudy, bouncing towards your friends and giving Zoe a tight hug, despite just seeing them this morning.

           “Good lord, we just saw her,” Jamie said as you let go of Zoe and faced Jamie. You felt less nervous as you were surrounded by your three friends, despite Rudy took the spot between you and Chase. You reached and grasped either side of Jamie’s face and planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. “Yeah, yeah, get off.”

           Despite telling you to get off, Jamie’s arm wrapped around your waist. You laughed and smiled at him, “Good to see you, Jamie.” You said as his arm finally unraveled and rolled his eyes. You finally took your spot between Rudy and Zoe again, your arm accidently brushing against Rudy’s warm skin and almost halting you, but then you felt the light glide of his fingers through the sweater and shirt, against your lower back.

           “You must be Y/N,” Chase said, turning his eyes onto you.

           “Hi,” You said, giving him a smile, which only made his warm one grow. “Chase, right?”

           He nodded, “Nice to finally meet you. Rudy’s told me a lot about you.”

           You almost groaned with a slight grimace, “good things?”

           Chase grinned, “great things.”

           You slowly lifted your eyes to look at Rudy, and could have sworn that his cheeks had gone pink but he covered it up by lifting his beer and taking a sip. He didn’t meet your eyes and you felt a small twinge of disappointment, so while your friends went on to make plans for hiking tomorrow, you faced them and tried to engage in the conversation about wanting to show Chase around.

           Rudy slowly leaned in, his heat filling up your side as his mouth dropped to your ear. “How could I not talk about you?” He whispered, making your heart stop inside your chest. When he pulled back a few inches you tilted your head to look at him, no smile or humor filled his face. His bright eyes were just watching you, taking in your eyes and blushing cheeks, pausing to look at your parted lips while the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip.

           “I always talk about you,” he whispered again, finally drawing his eyes up to yours.

           It was like you could hear his heart pound with two words. One Day.

[aespawpaq]

Netflix and Chill (3)

IMAX and CLIMAX

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags;  sh is an avid history channel viewer, sh hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, sh goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

Sunghoon sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Sunghoon’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Sunghoon scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Sunghoon greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Isa swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Isa, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Sunghoon picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Sunghoon’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Sunghoon invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Sunghoon not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Sunghoon is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Sunghoonie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Sunghoon was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Sunghoon rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Sunghoon, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Sunghoon’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Sunghoon apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Sunghoon is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Sunghoon’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Sunghoon laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Sunghoon gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Sunghoon’s house were either  the result of Sunghoon picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Sunghoon inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“ Sunghoon?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Sunghoon had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, hoon, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Heeseung would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Sunghoon goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Sunghoon doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Sunghoon’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Sunghoon doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “hoon, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Sunghoon’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Sunghoon sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Sunghoon scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Sunghoon sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Sunghoon crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Sunghoon’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Sunghoon quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Sunghoon clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Sunghoon will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Sunghoon is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Sunghoon has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Sunghoon scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Sunghoon falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Sunghoon says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Sunghoon sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Sunghoon laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away.  His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Sunghoon teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Sunghoon has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Sunghoon groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Sunghoon shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Sunghoon preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Sunghoon, you always came first. Sunghoon’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Sunghoon was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Sunghoon grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Sunghoon’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Sunghoon kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Sunghoon was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Sunghoon rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “ Sunghoon—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Sunghoon.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Sunghoon’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Sunghoon would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today… well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Sunghoon scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Sunghoon, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Sunghoon never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Sunghoon had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Sunghoon gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Sunghoon was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Sunghoon leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Sunghoon smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Sunghoon sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Sunghoon hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Sunghoon doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Sunghoon adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Sunghoon‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Sunghoon, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Sunghoon finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Sunghoon tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Sunghoon kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Sunghoon takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Sunghoon mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Sunghoon that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Sunghoon smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “hoon!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Sunghoon’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Sunghoon either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “ Sunghoon, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Sunghoon wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Sunghoon chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Sunghoon reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Sunghoon’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Sunghoon tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Sunghoon seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Sunghoon scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Sunghoon asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Sunghoon snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Sunghoon barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “hoon— Sunghoon!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Sunghoon nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Park Sunghoon, maybe Isa was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Sunghoon is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Sunghoon responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your hoon now.”

“My… hoon,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Sunghoon chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Sunghoon hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Sunghoon catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Sunghoon laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don’t wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Park Sunghoon,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Sunghoon’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

[emy-loves-you]

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 6

Who the F*ck’s Rebecca? OR How the 3 Gays got Together

Virgil learns about Roman’s childhood, specifically his sister and how he ended up dating Patton and Logan.

Warning: Misgendering of a character (but no one knows that the character is trans)

Yes, Roman and Remus are brothers. Explanations are listed at the bottom

Chapter 5 | Masterlist | Chapter 7

V- (2:07 PM) Let it Go was the best song in Frozen and you cannot convince me otherwise

R- (2:07 PM) I respect your opinion, but hear me out: Love is an Open Door

V- (2:08 PM) No

R- (2:08 PM) What about Fixer Upper?

V- (2:09 PM) Still no.

P- (2:09 PM) I really liked Olaf’s song about Summer!

L- (2:10 PM) I personally enjoyed the reprise of First Time in Forever.

R- (2:10 PM) You like almost any song with a reprise

L- (2:10 PM)I will not argue that, as successfully executed reprises are “lit.”

R- (2:11 PM) Ah, and who among us could forget the absolute BOP that is… that weird ice-cutting song.

P- (2:11 PM) I don’t know, Roman. I think that song is, pretty COOL

R- (2:11 PM) Oh, lookout

V- (2:12 PM) What? He’s just saying it’s a CHILLED out groove.

R- (2:12 PM) Ugh

L- (2:12 PM) We might need you two to leave this chat if you don’t stop.

Virgil laughed, throwing his phone on the bed and stripping out of his clothes. He just finished jogging home from Janus’ (he didn’t own a car right now, preferring to walk or have Janus pick him up). It was a lazy afternoon in late September, and all Virgil wanted to do was get out of these sweaty clothes and maybe take a nap. He heard his phone go off multiple times as he got dressed, probably Patton and Logan arguing about the purpose of puns. He flopped down onto his bed and grabbed his phone, checking the new messages.

P- (2:14 PM) Lo, the Princes are calling.

L- (2:14 PM) Tell Roman not to answer, Patton. We’ve been over this.

P- (2:14 PM) They’re asking about us, Lo.

L- (2:14 PM) Tell Roman to hang up. They’re not worth it.

P- (2:15 PM) They’re yelling now, L. They brought up Rebecca. What do I do?

L- (2:15 PM) Just walk into another room, Patton. Ignore them. Do you want me to call you?

P- (2:15 PM) No, I’m good. Just keep texting me. I need a distraction.

Now, Virgil had no idea about what the fuck was going on. But he knew how to distract someone. He’d just have to trust them to tell him later.

V- (2:16 PM) Did you know that octopi have 3 hearts?

L- (2:16 PM) What

P- (2:16 PM) That just means they have more love to give!

V- (2:17 PM) The longest recorded flight of a chicken is 13 seconds

P- (2:17 PM) Such a good bird!

V- (2:17 PM) Babies do not regularly produce tears until they are 1-3 months old

L- (2:18 PM) Ah, I think I understand now

V- (2:18 PM) A ‘jiffy’ is an actual unit of time. It stands for 1/1000th of a second

L- (2:18 PM) Falsehood. A jiffy is 1/100th of a second

V- (2:19 PM) Sorry, my hand must’ve slipped.

L- (2:19 PM) You would be unable to walk on Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus or Neptune because they have no solid surface.

L- (2:20 PM) An asteroid about the size of a car enters Earth’s atmosphere roughly once a year. However, it burns up before it can reach us.

L- (2:20 PM) The highest mountain known to man is on an asteroid called Vesta. It is approximately three times the height of Mount Everest.

P- (2:21 PM) I think they hung up. Thanks for keeping me company, Kiddos!

L- (2:21 PM) It was not an issue, Patton.

V- (2:21 PM) Yeah, no problem Pat. Now can someone explain what just happened?

L- (2:23 PM) As you can probably tell, I am not home at the moment. Apparently, Roman’s parents decided to call him and an argument broke out. The rest is not my place to say.

Virgil bit his lip, refusing to look at his phone screen. Did Virgil have the right to ask about that. It was obviously a very sensitive topic, and Virgil had only known Roman for about 3 months now. Virgil felt like he knew a lot about his 3 crushes (their quirks, their favorite sweets, their goals in life), but he knew very little about their lives before Virgil had met them. Which was fine; they knew very little about Virgil’s life, too. But he desperately wanted to help Roman; to make him feel happy and safe and loved. Virgil sighed, setting his phone on his nightstand. If Princey wants to tell me what’s going on, I’ll listen. If not, I’ll just have to deal with it.

Virgil woke up from his nap to the sound of his phone going off. He blindly felt around for it, his face still firmly planted in his pillow. He finally found it, turning it on before he lifted his head to read the text. It was a private message from Princey.

R- (3:02 PM) You’re probably wondering what happened today.

V- (3:02 PM) I am, but you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable. I’ll respect your privacy.

R- (3:02 PM) As much as I appreciate that, you still deserve to know.

R- (3:03 PM) Do you mind if I call you? This doesn’t feel like a conversation to have over text.

Virgil thought about it for a moment. He originally never wanted to call Roman, simply because he might recognize Virgil’s voice as Anxiety’s. However, not only was Virgil 99% confident that Roman had never even heard of The Dark Sides, Virgil’s head was still foggy after his nap. Before he knew it, he was already calling Princey’s phone.

“Virgil?” Roman didn’t sound as… grand as Virgil expected. His voice was subdued and slightly hoarse, probably from the screaming match with his parents.

“Heya, Princey.” Virgil cringed at how gravelly his voice sounded. He’ll need to get some water after this conversation is over.

“You sound so tired. Oh my stars, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get back to sleep-”

“Princey, it’s okay. Just finished my nap. Might not talk much, but ‘m all ears.”

“Alright. Where do I even begin?”

“Take your time. ‘m not pressurin’ you or anythin’.”

“(sigh) You’re right. I guess I should start at the beginning. I grew up in a very... conservative household. My parents expected me and my sister, Rebecca, to be perfect. ReeRee was my partner in crime. We did everything together up until highschool. My parents expected me to get a football scholarship and date the hottest girl in school. I did those things, not because I wanted to, but because they wanted me to. ReeRee was a different story. When my parents signed her up for cheerleading, she tried to join the football team instead. When they told her she should wear her hair in a ponytail, she cut it off to match mine. I didn’t understand, and it made me angry. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror; she was starting to look more and more like me, and yet each change made my parents angrier. Why was looking and acting like me a problem? I thought they liked this version of me! One night in the summer before junior year I was really frustrated and I took it out on her. I told her to stop acting like me. I knew she didn’t deserve my anger, so I went to Patton’s place to cool down. By the time I came home, my parents refused to acknowledge that I even had a sister. I pushed her away, and now I’ll never get her back.

After that, things changed. I was so angry, and everything I saw reminded me of her. I quit the football team, because every time I went down to the field I expected to see her. I dyed my hair, because every time I looked in the mirror I saw her staring back. I stopped caring about what my parents thought, ‘cause it was their opinions that dragged me into this mess!

I had already been friends with Patton since Freshman year, but me and Logan had been at each other’s throats . We were always bickering about something, and sometimes I used our arguments to vent out my anger at whatever was wrong at the time. I didn’t even realize how much I had cared about Patton and Logan until I learned about the LGBTQ+ community. My parents were super strict, and Patton and Logan didn’t exactly flaunt their relationship. I had no idea that liking guys was even an option . Once I learned about it, my parents quickly tried to shut it down. Everyday, they’d start their day telling me that ‘homosexuality is a sin’ and ‘God made you to be the gender you were born with!’ If they had told me that before ReeRee left, I might’ve believed them. But by this point, I didn’t care about a single thing they told me.

So one day, I’m arguing with Logan about who knows what, and suddenly we’re inches apart, and I remember pa saying ‘ a boy should never kiss another boy.’ And just think, ‘Fuck it.’ And now me and Pocket Protector are suddenly making out behind the school building. Microsoft Nerd asks why the hell I decided to make out with him of all people, and I break down right there. He agreed to keep it a secret, but he refused to do anything more than a simple make-out session until he had Padre’s consent to do so. Which I understood, consent is important, cheating is bad.

Now we’re having these ‘sessions’ at least once a week for almost 4 months. Patton eventually walked in on us and he was understandably upset. I explained what had happened and that I’ve had a crush on both of them for a while. And they’re like ‘cool, we’re polyam.’ And now I’m starting senior year dating two men, which mom and pa were not okay with. I told ‘em to fuck off and we moved away as soon as we graduated. They still call occasionally, asking when I’m gonna get my life together and get over losing ReeRee. I haven’t blocked ‘em yet in case they find her or change their minds.”

Roman finally took a deep breath. “Sorry about the rant. Didn’t realise how badly I needed to get that off my chest.”

Virgil snorted. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Told ya I’d be a good ear. And Princey?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t gotta do anything to impress someone else. You bein’ you is good enough. And if Rebecca could see you, I’m sure she’d be proud as hell. And don’t be ‘fraid to hit me up if you need someone other than your SOs to rant to; I’ll always be here for ya, Princey.”

“... Thank you, Virgil. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until you said it.” He sighed, and Virgil could hear the sound of running water. “I’m gonna go drink some water. My throat burns like a bitch right now.”

“Same. Catch you later?”

He could hear Roman chuckle to himself. “I guess you shall. Farewell, Storm Cloud. And pleasant dreams!”

Virgil blushed. The way Roman said his nickname… it made Virgil’s gay heart nearly explode. He quickly hung up and buried his face back into his pillow. I’ll get water later. AFTER my heart stops racing.

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Now, for those of you wondering about why Virgil doesn't realize that Roman and Remus are brothers, I'm gonna put a quick explanation here, 'cause I don't know how to casually fit this into the story. 1.) Remus has never told Virgil his deadname or his last name. He's probably told Janus (since their pretty close) but Virgil doesn't know. 2.) Remus has never told Virgil that his brother's name is Roman. Additionally, when Virgil is talking about the 3 gays, he only calls them "Pat, Lo and Princey." 3.) Roman's parents didn't tell him that Remus transitioned, so he doesn't know that Rebecca now goes by Remus. Also, none of the characters have actually sent pictures of their faces, so none of them have any idea what the other looks like. 4.) It is a total coincidence that both twins moved to the same town. Remus believes that Roman still lives in their hometown, and Remus could be dead for all that Roman knows. There is no logical reason for them to think "maybe Virgil's friends with my long-lost sibling" 5.) Virgil would NEVER out his friends like that. He tells Janus and Remus everything, but he would NEVER betray Roman's trust like that. Same thing for telling Roman about Remus. Roman might know that Remus is trans, but he doesn't know about Remus' background. ONE LAST THING: Roman and Virgil will eventually see each other face-to-face but WON'T recognize each other's voices. This is because during the phone call Virgil is still groggy from waking up and Roman is still hoarse from screaming.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

[chaoticminhos]

notes (part 2)

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: degradion, jealousy

a/n: enjoy u filthy animals

~~~

it had been a few months since you and hyunjin first had sex, and since then, your relationship had progressed. about a month after the initial encounter, he asked you on a real date. not long after, you became his girlfriend.

it was a completely normal relationship. mostly. you were only a few years apart. the only issue was that he was your professor, making his relationship with you kind of... illegal. because of this, you had to keep your relationship completely secret. not even your best friend knew. this didn’t bother him, though, you’d be graduating in a few years and then he could show you off to everyone. what did bother him, however, is that because he was unable to publicly state you as his, everyone thought you were available, including all of the college fuck boys, who would flirt with you right in front of him, unknowing that he was your boyfriend.

he couldn’t even leave marks on you to show that you weren’t available, because how would you explain that? your friends would kill you if you had hickies and didn’t tell them who they were from.

so, he got to sit and watch a bunch of horny college boys flirt with you on the daily, and needless to say, it pissed him off beyond belief. but hey, at least he was hot when he was jealous.

you were in his class as usual, sitting in a random spot, since he didn’t assign seats. today, you were sat in between two boys, them choosing to sit beside you after you had already taken your seat. you didn’t think anything of it, the boys sat in open spots, no big deal, right?

wrong. hyunjin thought it was a big deal.

halfway through class, you felt a someone nudge your left shoulder.

“hey, y/n right? i’m sorry to bother you, but i really don’t understand this problem. could you help me?”

you smiled at him, taking the pencil from his hand and leaning over so you could see his work. it was almost correct, just a silly little mistake. you turned your face towards him to point out his error and found your faces closer than you though, blushing and jumping away from him a little.

he laughed at your reaction, and you couldn’t deny that his laugh was contagious, so you chuckled along with him. eyes going back to his paper, you showed his where he had messed up and walked him through getting to the correct answer. when he got the final answer, you softly clapped for him, and he reached his hand out for a high five, which you took.

“thank you, y/n.”

“it’s no problem...”

“minho! my names minho.”

and you went back to paying attention in class. you didn’t think anything of the encounter, but hyunjin noticed every small detail about it.

class continued as normal, and after a while, the bell rang. everyone packed their bags and headed out, and you packed purposely slowly as you always did, you liked to stay after class and talk to your boyfriend a while before you had your next lecture.

minho, however, stayed with you while you packed. as you were putting things into your bag, he spoke, scratching the back of his neck.

“i’m gonna be honest, i knew what i did wrong on that problem, i just couldn’t think of any other way to start a conversation with you.”

your face flushed red again, and a small laugh escaped your lips. by this time, it was only the two of you and hyunjin left in the room, and of course, minho flirted with you freely, thinking nothing of your professors presence.

“i’m not that scary, am i?” you joked

“i don’t know, pretty girls can be kinda terrifying.”

you laughed.

“hey, actually, if you’re not doing anything later, would you want to-“

“y/n, i need to speak to you about your last quiz score.” hyunjins voice interrupted minhos date proposal.

“oh, i’m sorry, i should probably...” you gestured to your professor, signaling to minho that you needed to get going.

“uh, yeah. see you tomorrow in class, then?” you smiled and nodded at him, “great, bye, y/n!” and with that, minho was out the door.

you happily made your way to the front of the lecture hall and to your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his neck and placing a kiss to his lips.

“wanted to spend time with me so much you kicked minho out, huh?” you joked with your boyfriend, but he didn’t seem to find it funny.

“what i wanted was for you to stop flirting with him.”

you frowned, “i wasn’t flirting with him, jinnie, he was the one flirting with me.”

“oh, so you giggling at all of his jokes and sitting so close to him that there was barely any space wasn’t you flirting?”

“hyunjin, he asked for help on a problem, how was i supposed to know it was his way of-“

his grip on your hips tightened and he pulled you closer to him, “god, i wish i could mark you up so bad that everyone knew i owned you.”

you were shocked at his sudden change of tone, but you couldn’t say it didn’t turn you on. you were about to reply when he turned around and grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

“hyunjin, where are you going?”

without looking over his shoulder, he replied, “we’re going to my place. come on.”

the authority in his tone made your core heat up, and you didn’t even care that you were about to miss your next lecture. all you cared about was how hot and possessive hyunjin was being right then.

the entire car ride to his apartment was spent in silence with hyunjins hand resting firmly on your thigh. he didn’t speak again until you were both in his place and he had you pressed against the door the two of you had just walked through.

“god, y/n, you have no clue how badly i want to show you off.”

his hands found their way to your thighs, and you jumped up, wrapping your arms around his waist.

your lips were connected the entire time he walked you to his bed, only breaking apart when he roughly tossed you onto the mattress. he pulled his shirt over his shoulders and immediately his lips found yours again. he was kissing you so hard, you knew your lips would be bruised. he bit at your bottom lip, asking for entrance, and you knew better than to anger him any further by fighting for dominance.

his hands made their way across your torso and to the bottom of your shirt, separating himself from you long enough to pull it over your shoulders. his eyes scanned your body.

“i get surprised by how beautiful you are every single time i see you like this, baby.”

his hand found its was behind your back and unclipped your bra, tossing it onto the floor among the other discarded articles of clothing. before you could even whine from the cold air on your nipples, hyunjin had his mouth around one and his fingers playing with the other. you let out a small moan, hands tangled in his hair.

you whined when he pulled away, but we’re quickly cut off by his lips against yours once again. he sat up and you heard the sound of him undoing his belt, deciding not to test his patience and pulling the rest of your clothes off without him having to tell you to.

his arms looked around your thighs and he pulled you to the edge of the bed, earning a yelp from you.

immediately, he had two fingers running through your folds.

“you’re so wet already, slut. does pissing me off turn you on that much?”

“i wasn’t trying to-“

he cut you off with a slap to your thigh, slipping two fingers into your heat soon after.

his mouth found its way to your clit, sucking and swirling it around his tongue. he curled his fingers into your g-spot, and you let out a long moan.

“hyunjin, i’m gonna-“

he took his mouth from your clit and stilled the movements of his fingers, ruining your orgasm. you felt tears well up in your eyes and you let out a whine.

he didn’t pay any attention to your behavior, just moving his mouth to your thighs, placing wet, open mouth kisses on them. you stopped complaining, happy you were getting some sort of pleasure again.

he began to bite and nibble at your inner thighs, and you made the mistake of threading your fingers in his hair and pulling his head from your legs.

“jin, no marks.”

before you had a chance to think, he had a hand around your throat. his words came out, practically in a growl.

“we agreed on no marks anywhere that someone could see. you don’t plan on letting anyone see here,” he cupped your heat, “right?”

you shook your head.

“good girl.”

he released his grip on your neck, going back to his place between your thighs and continuing what he was doing. your legs tightened around his head as he sucked and kissed your thighs.

after littering your inner thighs with purple and red marks, he stood from his knees and flipped you over so you were on your stomach, pulling your hips up so your ass was in the air.

he ran his hands along your back and ass, letting out a hum at the sounds you made when he did so. in no time, you felt his tip prodding at your entrance.

“you ready, baby?”

you smiled at his words, that’s something you loved about him. even when he was anger and being rough, he always made sure you wanted what he gave you.

“yes.”

your words were muffled slightly from your face being buried in the blankets on his bed. he buried his hand in your hair, roughly tugging your head up.

“what, you slut? i couldn’t hear you.”

“yes- fuck, hyunjin. please.”

he released his hold on your hair, shoving into you without warning. you nearly screamed at the feeling. he didn’t give you time to adjust, thrusting into you at a relentless pace. it didn’t take him long to find your sweet spot, slamming into it over and over again.

he knew you were close when he felt your walls clenching around him, and he brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing quick circles. you came with a scream of his name, your hands gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles were almost white. you could tell he was close, too.

“baby, i’m gonna- fuck, i’m gonna cum. where can i cum?”

without really thinking about it, you responded.

“in me- fuck” you felt another orgasm building up, “want you to fill me up, m yours.”

he groaned at your words, picking up his pace and bringing his fingers down to your sensitive bundle once again. he came with a harsh thrust, and the feeling of him filling you up pushed you over the edge and into your second orgasm. he rode out your highs before slowly pulling out of you and collapsing on top of you, his elbows holding him up so his full weight wasn’t on you.

he peeled himself off of you and went to grab a warm rag to clean you off. he smiled as he saw the bruises covering your thighs.

after cleaning the two of you up and slipping one of his t-shirts over your head and pulling a pair of boxers onto himself, he laid down beside you in his bed, pulling you close to his chest.

“i’m sorry for getting jealous, baby. i just get so upset knowing i can’t tell everyone you’re mine.”

you smiled at him, placing a kiss to his lips. “i know, jinnie. i’m sorry i didn’t realize minho was flirting with me.”

he groaned, pulling a pillow out from under himself and hitting you with it. “ew, y/n, don’t say his name right after we just fucked.”

[veiledpeaches]

chance encounters | part i: what secrets we keep

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible. 

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 3k

thank you @seasonblues, you’re an inspiration to me.

She has just clocked into the office when she spots Doyoung at his desk, typing away furiously at his screen. This morning he has the blinds around his office up, such that anyone entering the office can see the faint glow of the computer screen reflected on Doyoung’s countenance. She guesses that he would be leaving the office earlier today, since he’s dressed a bit more casually, electing for his fringe to fall loosely onto the tip of his eyebrows instead of its usual comma hairstyle, his pressed white button-down free of its tie. His lips are moving, presumably mouthing the words presented on his screen while his eyebrows are slightly furrowed in thought.

As she gets to her desk, she lets her leather satchel, plump with files, fall onto her chair before walking towards the Managing Editor’s office.

“Haewon!” Doyoung’s face lights up as he meets her gaze, a childish and toothy grin forming on his face as he takes the cup of coffee from her. “I have excellent news for you.”

“Morning boss,” she laughs, “aren’t you leaving tomorrow? I thought you were on leave today.”

Doyoung hums dismissively, taking a sip of his coffee. “They like it, the Evergreen winner. They liked his work.”

The Evergreen Writers’ Competition was a local youth creative writing competition that was also a popular event that publishers looked into to discover aspiring and potential young writers. Haewon had been promoting the recent winner’s work to Doyoung relentlessly for the past few weeks. Even though Doyoung had been generally unconvinced of the commercial potential of the novel, he had submitted her proposal of it to Headquarters for their consideration under Haewon’s ceaseless endorsement.

“They’re publishing it?” Haewon presses her hands together with glee, “They liked it?”

“They liked it so much they want me to bring both the original and revised manuscript when I leave tomorrow. Oh, I’ll need the cover artwork too. They’re planning on translating and pushing it out to the American audience.” Doyoung smiles knowingly.

“I told you it was good!”

There is a hint of a smile at Doyoung’s lips, “I have to admit I couldn’t put it down the whole time, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But-” he pauses, “you need to admit the writing isn’t spectacular. The emotions are too raw, and his diction is unrefined-”

“These are things we can change with copyediting boss,” Haewon emphasizes, “with proofreading. We can make it better. But the world building is immaculate. It’s an incredible piece of work for a seventeen-year-old.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes, a smirk peeking from his lips. “Are you sure this has nothing to do with the way he looks?”

“Boss!” Haewon is scandalized, “he’s seventeen!”

“When I googled about him, I knew at once why Marketing said he would be good for press,” he laughs. “He looks more like he should be scoring on a game or scoring dates than scoring at a budding writers’ competition.”

While Doyoung has maintained a more professional relationship with her through the three years she has worked as his assistant, there are moments like these where Doyoung’s cheeky side slips through the cracks, reminding her of why she was so drawn to him from the very start. How effortless his humor is, how playful he actually is. The small crinkles that form at the corner of his eyes when his face breaks into a laugh. How wide his eyes get and how dramatic his gestures become when he’s talking about things he loves outside of work, like a drama he’d just started on, or the current political climate. The way he bends over her desk to explain to her about target readership in different export markets. And more than that. How much he loves reading, and his job, even on days he can’t agree with the directors. How he throws a disdainful expression at her when he overhears colleagues making sexist comments. How he tells her he’s trying to become a better listener, whether people need that or not. How convinced he is of his rightness and proud he is of his work, but not in the least satisfied with it. How attentive he is to every detail, whether it’s about Accounting’s expenditure records or about how her eyes remain a bit watery for the rest of the day after she receives a call from her mother.

Haewon rolls her eyes, but her smile is unwavering. “I’ll go prepare the documents you need now, boss.”

He nods and turns to his phone in his hand, and she’s about to turn and exit his office, when he speaks again, this time gentler, “oh by the way, Inhee told me you haven’t RSVP’d yet.”

He looks up from his phone, and then back at it again, his smile uneasy – a classic Doyoung gesture when he needed to ask about something he didn’t really want to. As if he needed to check his guest list again. “Would you be busy that day? I don’t recall you telling me you had to be out of town.”

She’s about to speak, when a breathless Lee Donghyuck appears out of the blue, rushing to Doyoung and sighing emphatically about this month’s sales numbers. She smiles and nods, exiting his office with a promise of talking later.

It’s just after lunch and well into Haewon’s food coma when her desk phone rings, startling her from a well-deserved but secret post-lunch doze.

“Dam-il Publishing, this is Haewon speaking.”

“Haewon!” The excited whisper is characteristic only of Nakamoto Yuta, whose wide-eyed gaze Haewon meets as she averts her eyes towards the Designers side of the office. “It’s me, it’s me!”

“Oh Yuta, that reminds me, I’ll need the proposed artwork for Cho Young Jun’s novel.”

“Cho Young Jun? The bald guy?”

“No! The prodigy! The Evergreen winner! I need it by today, Doyoung’s flying to New York tomorrow-”

“Oh, I’ve completed that weeks ago, I’ll email it over later whatever – listen, I heard what Doyoung asked you about just now. About the wedding.”

Haewon flinches, then realizes what Yuta would probably be thinking, and a small sigh of relief leaves her. “You mean Donghyuck told you.”

“I heard, Donghyuck told me – what does it matter… Is it because of the program? Did you get in?”

General nosiness aside, Yuta’s actually one of the few colleagues (other than Doyoung) whose company Haewon really enjoys. Which is why Haewon had told him about an application she made months ago, to pursue a master’s program in Literary Arts at Brown University. Needless to say, she had earned Yuta’s immediate and fervent support, knowing that studying English Literature instead of Creative Writing for her bachelor’s had been a cop-out on Haewon’s part and a regret she had drunkenly let slip to him at an informal company gathering.

She’d always wanted to study Creative Writing, and while she didn’t exactly need that master’s degree to become a writer per se, she really hopes to further her studies in fiction writing.

“No Yuta, I haven’t received news yet.”

“Shouldn’t you know by now?” Yuta has always been straightforward, “besides, why’re you keeping it a secret? You should just tell Doyoung; you’re so close, he’ll be happy for you. You shouldn’t have to feel guilty about taking your shot.”

The reality is, the situation is a lot more complicated than Yuta’s understanding. There’s the thing with leaving the company in the midst of this busy period when Doyoung needs his assistant, but there’s also the other thing, the bigger issue at stake. That Haewon is in love with Doyoung and might not necessarily want to see him walk down the aisle with a woman who isn’t her.

“It’s not that simple – besides, he’s been swamped ever since the acquisition.”

Dam-il Publishing Co. was a small local publishing company with a focus in Korean language fiction novels, until its recent acquisition by the large multinational New York-based Bertsman Publishing House. Despite the acquisition, Bertsman had allowed Dam-il to retain its name, knowing that it is an emerging trusted brand among aspiring and established writers, and a known publishing company in many Korean households. However, the acquisition had also brought Bertsman employees into the office, and the number of people were far too many for Doyoung to handle at the start.

Doyoung is also, generally, a less trusting person when it comes to work ethics. While he greatly appreciates his Dam-il subordinates and their efficiency, he has less to say about their Bertsman counterparts – in Yuta’s words, Doyoung finds them “fucking lazy”. Haewon has always been his key go-to person to check on their progress in their projects, and he relies on her effortlessly and wholeheartedly.

Doyoung is… something else. According to their mutual friend Johnny, Doyoung had majored in Finance in college, done inexplicably well and had received an offer from one of the big four financial consulting companies even before graduation. However, as Doyoung had told him upon graduation, that wasn’t the life he was after. He loved books and wanted to make a career out of it, so he started working for Dam-il as an Acquisitions Editor’s assistant right after graduation against the heed of his professors and university friends. He was, to say the least, smart and a fast learner, quickly making his way up the company ladder and was handed the highest rank of Managing Editor in just nine years (a fact that somehow only made Doyoung more attractive to Haewon).

Thanks to his work ethic and Dam-il’s excellent sales numbers, he’s now the Bertsman CEO Fulworth’s most trusted Managing Editor – something Johnny loves teasing him about.  

Yuta sighs into the phone, lifting her from her stupor against the quiet backdrop of a whirring air-conditioner and a bubbling coffee machine.

“Well nevertheless, you need to tell him soon, Haewon – especially if you can’t go to his wedding.”

Johnny is sitting in front of their living room window by the time Haewon reaches home. She’s completely exhausted, her cranberry lipstick visible only on the outer reaches of her mouth and her eyeliner leaving small charcoal patches beneath her lower lashes. It’s ten in the evening on a Friday night, but surprisingly Johnny is at home sipping red wine, his eyes relaxed and shut. His other hand gestures wildly and somewhat pretentiously like an overexcited conductor to what Haewon recognizes as the last line of Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got The World On A String.

“You’re home early,” Haewon comments.

Johnny swings around in his chair. “Haewonnie, I feel like I’ve gotten old,” he pouts dramatically, even though, Haewon thinks, his bright, enthusiastic puppy-like expression definitely begs to differ.

“Mark asked me after work if I wanted to hit a bar downtown with the kids tonight – but I actually feel drained. I had to say no.” The slightly annoying and yet endearing pout hasn’t left his face.

Just as Doyoung is Fulworth’s golden boy, Mark Lee is Johnny’s – constantly trailing after him at his company. Despite being almost thirty-two years old and the head of his department, Johnny loves hanging out with the young employees and interns, determined to keep his youthfulness in check.

Haewon grew up in the same neighborhood as Johnny back in Chicago, where Johnny was popular among the Asian kids as the kind older brother to them, fending off bullies on their behalf and bringing them to bookstores and ice-skating rings and bowling alleys. When he turned fifteen, Johnny moved back to South Korea to attend high school – a decision that surprised everyone in the neighborhood. But Johnny has always done what Johnny wants and exceled in every situation, so his parents agreed. While Haewon did not consider herself particularly close to Johnny when they were younger, Johnny has always been generous with his concern for others. When he found out from his mother that she was planning a move to Korea three years ago, he reached out to her and offered to share his apartment with her.

(“The rent is too expensive anyway,” Johnny had insisted, but Haewon knew even then that he could definitely afford it given his salary.)

Johnny is… pretty much Haewon’s lifesaver. Even before she came to Korea, Johnny had everything arranged for her. Understanding that she had majored in English Literature and loved books, he hooked her up with a publishing job at Dam-il under Doyoung, a deed Haewon has always been insanely grateful for. And while she had been shy and quiet upon her arrival to Korea, his cheerful demeanor, along with his puppy-like enthusiasm and child-like laughter had been more than enough to draw Haewon out of her shell. Even though she had been depressed and lost in life, Johnny had been by her side, cheering her up and restoring her usual happy glow.

Unsurprisingly, Johnny is the director of the product design department for a leading technology conglomerate. Unlike Doyoung, Johnny actually enjoys the ‘hustler’ lifestyle of ‘work hard, play hard’.

They met in college where they were both in the Business faculty. Despite being inherently different, the two became close quickly, bonding over a shared distaste for unnecessary societal expectations and parochial attitudes stereotypical of elitists in their country. While growing up abroad made Johnny more open-minded and gentler with the people he met, Doyoung’s open-mindedness is the culmination of years of observing people and their idiosyncrasies. The tough experiences of witnessing school bullying and students’ imploding from academic stress fueled a quiet and righteous, vaguely Robin Hood-like, anger towards societal insularity, that is now characteristic of Kim Doyoung.

“You’re not old – besides, who wants to go to a bar when you can drink in the comfort of your own home?”

“I want to! Haewon-ah, you’re acting too old for your age-”

Her phone rings, interrupting Johnny’s nagging monologue. She glances at the caller ID before picking up quickly.

“Hey boss, what’s up?” In the background, she can hear Johnny making a chant out of the words ‘is it Doyoung?’, leaning out of his seat to peer over eagerly. She nods, and a huge grin spreads over his face.

“So sorry to disturb you this late, but it’s kind of an emergency- is that Johnny?”

It takes a moment for Haewon to realize, but Johnny has since progressed from his ‘is it Doyoung’ song to a strange jingle that sounds like ‘my friend Kim Doyoung, my brother Kim Doyoung, my love Kim Doyoung’ to the tune of a lullaby. “Yeah it is, he’s lying spread-eagled on the ground now and crying out your name in despair-”

Doyoung laughs, breathlessly and colorfully, sounding like a musical instrument of his own and making Haewon smile as she walks into her room and away from Johnny’s antics.

“Say hi to him for me. Okay so,” his voice turns serious, “do you have Cho Young Jun’s file?”

“Yeah I have it with me right now, it’s in my bag.”

“Oh thank God,” Doyoung heaves a sigh of relief, “sorry, I might need you to bring it to the airport tomorrow. I need his personal particulars and the signed hard copy of his indemnity form.”

“No apologies needed boss – but, so urgently?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung sounds frustrated, and Haewon can almost picture him running his fingers through his hair, a gesture not in the least unattractive to her. “Well he’s still considered a minor, so royalties will probably go directly to his guardian for safekeeping. And… They want him to do press.”

“Okay, so I’ll reach out to our usual media and PR agencies – what does that have to do with-”

“No…” Doyoung sighs, “American press; talk shows, interviews – things like that.”

“He’s seventeen.” Haewon raises an eyebrow, “he’s totally unprepared for that kind of thing. Plus, his English isn’t fluent, last time I checked.”

Johnny has since entered her room and conjured the most dramatically shocked expression Haewon has ever seen, as if Doyoung had informed her that Cho Young Jun would be going into prostitution instead of doing press. She glares at him as she listens to Doyoung’s instructions, ending the call with a, “okay sure, I’ll bring them for you tomorrow. Good night boss.”

Johnny smirks as she finishes the call, “ooh boss. Kinky. Me likey.”

Johnny is the only person privy to Haewon’s admittedly rather long term ‘crush’ on Doyoung, catching on rather quickly since they met and letting her down gently with “he’s attached, Haewonnie”. In fact, it’s been three years since Johnny has shared that piece of information with her, but Haewon is unfortunately still hopelessly in love with Doyoung.

Ever the best friend, while Johnny has told her that he’s worried about her pertaining to this, he manages to make the situation more light-hearted effortlessly. In fact, he sometimes cracks jokes at her expense to her privately and not unkindly, while knowing when to offer her a shoulder to cry on.

“You’ve heard me call him boss a thousand times,” she rolls her eyes, pushing him out of her room to rest for the night, “also, you’re driving me to the airport tomorrow.”

Johnny drums his fingers against the steering wheel, his cheeks puffing up as he waits for Haewon’s text to get to his car at the pick-up point. They had left the house at eight in the morning to catch Doyoung at the airport just in time before his flight, and Johnny really needs to catch up on sleep once they get home. He is absentmindedly humming to Alicia Keys’ If I Ain’t Got You on the radio, when Haewon clumsily gets into his car.

“Johnny-” At once, he realizes she’s ashen pale, her lips quivering.

“What’s wrong, Haewon? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“John, I just… I just saw…”

“What?” He starts the car and begins the route home when Haewon’s next words make him pull up at the side of the road in shock.

“Inhee’s cheating on Doyoung…”

xx

w/n: this fic will be updated regularly until its resolution, look out for an update every Thursday at 9pm KST. 

talk to me!! here