#LOVE HIM LOTS BUT?? LIKE??? WHAT THE FUCK ARE HIS SHAPES

[whatifitis]

♡ Only Us - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando does a little fuck up and you're stubborn but you love him anyway. Feat. Max F being annoyed with a lack of dining utensils in an airbnb

Author's Note: this was based off this request! sorry for taking so long to write something. I hope this lives up to the request <3

WC: 1633

CW: Lando being a little shit, fluff, max f cussing

“I can’t believe this expensive air bnb doesn’t have utensils.” Max says, feeling a bit frustrated as you’d all gone shopping earlier for some groceries for your time in the air bnb. However, none of you thought to get some silverware as well, “it’s an air bnb, not a fucking hotel. There should be silverware in here. For fucks sake. We’re gonna have to eat with our hands like barbarians.”

“Max, relax. We can just get some pizza or something. No need for utensils.” Pietra says, walking up to him and hugging him from behind. You were starving so you hope a consensus can be made quickly. You hadn’t eaten all day due to having to rush from one place to another and somehow, every place that you had passed and that served food had a long wait. 

You and Lando watched the scene unfold from the couch as Max tried to argue that utensils will be needed at some point and you can’t just eat pizza the whole trip. After some debates, Max clapped his hands together, “All right. We’re getting chinese because we can ask for utensils and use them for most of the trip.” 

Everyone seemed pleased with Max’s idea and so you all gathered around to list everything that was needed before someone made the call and actually placed the order. 

In true Lando fashion, the man ordered nearly 40 spring rolls… that’s your man…

The whole group gathered in the living area and played some card games while everyone waited for the food to arrive. There was a lot of betting and wins and losses. Lando somehow was the only one to be down to his underwear after losing quite a few rounds of poker. Only Lando would find himself in that predicament. 

“If the food doesn’t arrive soon, I’m gonna call and ask where the fuck it is. It’s been ages. Where the fuck is it? The guy is probably having a fat shit and the foods getting fucking cold.”

“Max, it’s been 30 minutes and it was a pretty big order. It will be fine, just sit down and have some crisps.”

“No, P I’ve got the shakes look.” Max says whilst purposefully shaking his hands in an exaggerated manner, to which Pietra rolled her eyes. 

After some time, the doorbell rang and Max just about ran to the door, tripping over the leg of a chair in the process. Once Max is back with the bags of food, he places them on the table and begins to unpack them. As he unpacks everything, his eyebrows begin to furrow with each item he takes out, “No, no, no ,no! No fucking way.”

“Mate, what’s going on?” Lando walked behind Max. 

“There’s no utensils! They forgot the fucking utensils. Oh my fuck.” Max says in defeat, throwing his hands in the air and plopping onto the seat behind him. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. You feel bad for the man, but the scene was just too funny. 

“Yeah, keep laughing as you eat your fried rice with your bare hands. I hope your fucking rice is cold as well, fucks sake.” Max threatens. The man may be small, but when he’s upset, he doesn’t hold back with the threats. 

“Max, it’s okay. We can just make some makeshift utensils.” you offer. 

“Now how are we gonna do that, Y/n.”

“Simple. Someone can use this pen, we can roll this piece of paper into a cone and someone can shovel food into their mouth-”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous… Let’s do it before I rip someone's head off.”

So now the scene is painted, everyone is sitting around the coffee table and chowing on their food with the strangest objects. Pietra was using two makeup brushes as some makeshift chopsticks whilst Max opted to use the cone shaped paper, literally shoveling food into his mouth. Lando had decided to use a pen to try and shove food into his mouth and you ended up using a lens that popped out of your glasses when Lando sat on them earlier. 

When it happened, you wanted to be upset with Lando because they were your favorite glasses and they were the only ones you had brought on this trip. But Lando quickly apologized and immediately bought you a new pair. You also couldn’t be mad because once Lando saw how upset you were, he’d said “Just because my ass is fat, doesn't mean my feelings are tough.”

“I’m so hungry, I was about to go mental.” you said as you had taken your first few bites. 

“Same.” Max said, causing you all to side eye him, “what?”

“Babe, you were already going mental.” Pietra had told him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was calm, cool, and collected.”

After everyone openly judged Max, you all carried on eating and talking. Lando decided it was a good idea to play around and when he did, he was bumping into you. You were still eating so you asked him to calm down so you could finish eating but he didn’t. He ended up knocking your lens out of your hand and it got thrown across the room, shattering onto the floor. 

You just simply sat and stared at the shattered lens. You guys were limited on things you could use to eat so now all you could do was eat with your hands. But now you were too pissed off to eat. You’d lost your appetite. You simply stood up, threw your plate out and went to bed. 

Lando followed after you and you quickly glanced at him before turning your back to him. He looked truly regretful of his actions, “Baby, I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you. You hadn’t eaten all day and I fully messed up. You can use the pen I was using. You didn’t eat much.” 

“Not now, Lan. I’m tired and I don’t wanna yell at you.”

He understood his faults and didn’t want to make everything worse. He knew you needed the space so that night, he didn’t come to bed. He decided it was probably best to spend the night on the couch and let you have the bed to yourself. 

You tossed and turned all night, missing Lando’s warm body being next to yours. He did make you upset today but it didn’t mean you wanted him to sleep on the couch. But you were too stubborn so he spent the whole night on the couch. 

In the morning, everyone was set to wake up and get ready to ski and snowboard. You decided to sleep a little longer due to the fact that you slept so little during the night. But your sleep was cut even shorter when you were startled awake from the slamming of a door. Lando had accidentally hit the bedroom door so hard, it slammed into the wall. 

As soon as Lando had realized his mistake, he, once again, looked at you apologetically and mouthed the words ‘i’m so sorry’ but you were already pissed off yet again. You decided to just get up and get ready for the day, not paying much mind to Lando as you didn’t want to explode at him. 

The whole day, you spent time with the girls and just tried to enjoy your day. When it was starting to get dark, the whole group agreed to meet at the bottom of the hill near the cafes. You made your way down on your snowboard and when you spotted Lando standing alone at the bottom, you decided to have a little payback. 

Once you were close enough, you turned your snowboard to stop and spray Lando with snow. 

“I deserved that.” Lando had said as he tried to brush off some snow.

“You did.” was all you said before you made your way to the rest of the group. 

Once everyone was back in the cabin, you all started shedding your layers and began to unwind. You were walking around the house, just tidying a bit out of boredom when you stumbled upon some mistletoe that was hanging in one of the doorways. “You know we need to kiss now because that's the rule.” you heard Lando say from behind you. He had his classic smirk plastered on his face. 

You decided to give him a quick peck, resulting in him being smiley and thinking everything was okay now. 

“Nope. Still mad.” you said as you turned to walk away. But before you could walk away, Lando had wrapped himself around you. 

“No! I’m not letting you go til you love me again.”

“Lan, let me go.”

“No”

“Lan”

“Nope”

This continued as you tried to wrestle him off but he kept his hold on you and he ended up climbing onto your back but you weren’t prepared so the two of you fell into a mess of intertwined limbs and laughter. 

After the two of you caught your breath, Lando asked “Are we okay?” with a serious look on his face. You knew he could be insecure at times in the relationship, even after little arguments and disagreements. 

“Yes, baby. We’re okay. I was just tired, I’m sorry for making you think otherwise.” 

“‘S okay. I know I kinda fucked up.”

“Yeah. But no matter the fight, I will still love you and want you. What we’ve got going is good.” you move your hand to gently tap his temple, “We can try to quiet the noises in your head.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “I never thought there’d be someone like you who could want me. But here you are. It’s you and me and that’s all that I need it to be.”

“Only us.”

“Only us.”

[borathae]

Pink Ribbons

“Pink ribbons around his dainty wrists, his pretty hair a mess and drool covering his puffy lips. Your husband has never looked cuter.”

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: sub!Jungkook, Mommy Dom!Reader, cozy BDSM, safe power play, a cute chicken & movie date, he is very snuggly and clingy <3, he is also very obedient and the goodest boy, praise, good boy kink, loving dirty talk, bondage with pink silk ribbons, she takes videos of him because he is the cutest, handjob as he sits on her lap, gentle movements with lots of love, lots of kisses and touches all over his pretty body, a lil bit of edging, he is in such a cozy & safe subspace, he cums all over himself, did i mention that this is incredibly soft & cozy?, did you know that this is cozy?

Wordcount: 4.9k

a/n: i love him so much!!!!! omfg i'm sobbing :( he is the cutest pookie ever 😭 this story made me feel very cozy as i was writing it, i hope you guys can feel cozy as well hehe 💗 did you know that this is cozy?

“Jungkook, Jungkook, Bunny, Bunny, Bunny”, you come running around the corner calling his name repeatedly.

Jungkook, who is in the middle of a relaxing yoga session next to the windows, lifts his head. 

“Yes?”

You plop down in front of him, holding your phone.

“I saw something.”

“Okay?” Jungkook sits back, knowing that he won’t be able to continue his exercises until you showed him whatever you saw.

“Do you have time? Is it okay?” you ask.

“Yes, show me”, he assures you, scooting closer to you so he can see better.

You recently downloaded some famous video app because your college friends all talk about it and you wanted to feel included. You told him that you are only doing it to be trendy and to actually know what the young people talk about, but Jungkook has a gist that you are finding a liking in the app yourself. Sometimes he catches you literally cackling at your phone because of something funny you saw on the app. Other times, like today, you come running to show him whatever delighted you.

“I just saw this and it’s so cute. Look.”

You flip the phone and show him the video. It is a video of a generally perceived as attractive man filmed in pink light. Jungkook’s heart tightens in jealousy, his stomach sinks.

“Isn’t it cute?” you ask him.

“Why do you think that other men are cute?” Jungkook throws back with a huge, massive, immense pout, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “hmpf.”

“What? No you stupid noodle, it’s about the ribbons. Look.” You repeat the video. “His girlfriend tied ribbons around his arms and his torso and his wrists. Isn’t that so cute? We could do that too.”

“Ooooooh” Jungkook’s lips form the perfect O-shape and his eyes widen, arms relaxing, “ooooh you mean thaaat.”

You slap his chest gently.

“Stupid noodle. Of course I do. He is not cute. You are.”

Jungkook grins, “course I am.”

You roll your eyes. He is such a jealous baby sometimes.

“Whatever, silly. What do you think of the idea? Should we play with ribbons?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to think for long.

“Yes, I love the idea”, he agrees, nodding his head. 

“Coolio as fuck.”

Jungkook laughs, “you don’t sound trendy when you talk like this. Just saying.”

“Whatever.” You stand up. “I’ll be going ribbon shopping. Should I get takeout?”

“Yes, god. I want chicken.”

“Alrighty right. I’m going now. See you later alligator.”

“My love, please stop talking like this”, Jungkook laughs.

You merely grin at him and then leave, telling him that you won’t take long and that you love him.

Jungkook returns to his yoga session, finding great relaxation this way. His week was very stressful and yoga always calms him down.

He already finished his session, now getting tomorrow’s outfit ready, when you come back home. It is not a work outfit, but a date outfit because tomorrow is date day. Jungkook has been looking forward to date day the entire week. It is your turn to plan the activities and you hinted at bowling. Jungkook really loves bowling. 

“My love, I’m home!”

“I’m upstairs!” 

You appear in the dressing room soon, carrying the bags of your shopping tour.

“I got the stuff”, you tell him, grinning proudly.

“Yeah? That’s so cool, my love.” 

“Wanna eat the chicken on the sofa?” 

“Wanna watch a movie as we do?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure, let’s do that then. I’m picking out an outfit for tomorrow.”

You smile at him, “very good. Make sure that you can move in it well.”

Jungkook giggles and nods his head obediently. He loves date day! 

“Good boy. Come downstairs once you’re done. I’m setting up the chicken.” 

“I understand. Thank you, Mommy.”

You sit on the floor, switching through your movie choices, when Jungkook joins you. He does so rather vigorously, plopping down next to you to wrap his limbs around you and pull you into the biggest cheek smooch ever.

“Mmmmmmwuah” he lets out, following the smooch with a nose nuzzle against your cheek. 

You chuckle fondly, caressing his lower arms, “you’re a cutie. Did you pick out a nice outfit?”

“Yes, you’ll like it a lot”, he says, resting his chin on your shoulder to gaze at you, “Mommy, you’re so pretty.”

You look at him, smile and kiss his forehead. 

“You’re feeling clingy tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, really clingy.” Jungkook gives you a big squeeze and nuzzle. “It’s because tomorrow is date day. I love date days so much.”

“I love them too.” You say fondly. “Should we watch a horror movie or something romantic?”

“I want romantic. I feel too soft for horror tonight. Is that okay for you?” 

“Sure. Anything my soft Bunny wants. Should we watch this one?”

Jungkook, still snuggled against you, turns his head so he can look at the TV. A movie you both haven’t seen yet. You talked about watching it together.

“Yes, let’s do that. We haven’t seen that one yet.”

“I heard it’s great”, you say and press play. 

The movie starts, but you shift your attention to Jungkook. You put some distance so you could grab his sleeves and roll them up for him.

Jungkook lets you with a fluttering heart. His heart flutters even more when you put a paper bib around his neck so he wouldn’t get dirty. It came with the chicken and carries the restaurant’s logo. You finish the sweet gesture by pinching both his cheeks softly.

“There we go, now you’re proper”, you say, making him lift his shoulders shyly.

You turn to the front, rolling up your own sleeves and putting on a bib as well. You hand Jungkook a pair of plastic gloves, putting on your own. 

“I can’t wait to dig in”, you say, picking up the first chicken piece of many.

Jungkook needs a few moments before he can start eating. Moments like these are no big deal to you, but they are huge deals to him. Taking care of him comes so natural to you that he should already be used to it, but he truly isn’t. It always feels so special when you coddle him. 

He needs to hug you, even if you are already eating. 

“Hm?” you let out, eyes glued to the TV and mouth stuffed with delicious chicken.

“I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, Bunny. Now eat baby, before it gets cold.”

“Yes, okay”, Jungkook listens well, putting on his gloves to finally dig in. 

“Good boy. Do you like it? I went to your favourite place.”

“I love it so much. It’s so yummy”, Jungkook gushes, stuffing his mouth full of chicken.

“That’s good to hear. Eat as much as you want.”

You and he are silent as you eat, enjoying the movie fully. The chicken tastes delicious. You went for three different flavours. Natural in a crispy, crunchy breading. Honey soy garlic which tastes so rich and savoury. Spicy sweet chilly which is Jungkook’s favourite because he likes spicy food. You like it as well, but Jungkook seems to be truly obsessed with it tonight, so you let him have most of it while you stick to the other flavors. They are delicious as well and you want to see Jungkook happy. He is so adorable when he is happy from good food that you could never ever take this away from him, even if it meant missing out on your favourite chicken flavour. 

You clean up after finishing. Jungkook wanted to do it because you already did everything else but you told him to stay put. He listened very well. 

Tonight is a certain energy present between you and him. A sort of silent understanding that your roles are more prominent even in the mundane, domestic things. Granted, stuff like taking care of him and praising him, are your daily tasks, but tonight there is energy in them. Electric, warm energy. Jungkook gives you the same kind of energy back, letting you know that he is in a mild subspace just from the way he moves and talks around you. 

You return with chocolate cookies and cocoa as dessert. Jungkook is waiting for you on his knees and sitting on his crossed feet, hands folded on his lap. He stayed put. The position, he decided to do it in, is the last proof you needed to know that he feels the same energies you are feeling. This is a domestic, relaxing moment as much as it is also casual, soft power play. 

“I hope that you like cookies and cocoa for dessert. I was feeling cozy. Careful, the cup is hot.”

“Yes, this sounds yummy. Thank you for preparing it”, Jungkook says, accepting the cocoa with sweater paws. He blows on it to cool it down.

“Of course, anything for you.”

You sit down on the sofa and press play on the movie. There is still half an hour left. You bend forward and rake Jungkook’s hair gently. He shivers, tilting his head back and gazing at you. He sets the cup down on the table.

“Who’s my good boy?” you ask him.

“I am.” He lets out and exhales shakily, leaving his position so he could hug your legs and nuzzle his face into your lap. “I'm your good boy.”

“That’s right, my good boy”, you say, leaning back comfortably. You begin combing his hair with your fingers, scratching his scalp soothingly.

Jungkook stays seated by your feet, resting his cheek on your thigh. He watches the movie with heavy lids, tingling each time you scratch him behind his ear. Only when he takes a sip of the cocoa, he sits up for a vast moment. 

After around ten minutes you bend down again, kissing the side of his neck. Jungkook shivers, letting out a surprised gasp. 

“My good boy”, you says softly and straighten up, scratching his undercut gently. From the corners of your eyes, you watch how he is squirming. 

Another ten minutes pass and you both have finished the cocoa and cookies. Jungkook stays seated after setting his empty cup down, shimmying in discomfort. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“My butt hurts.”

“What? No way, come up here immediately.”

Jungkook leaves the floor, climbing onto the sofa with you. He lies down on his side, resting his head on your lap. Then he sighs, melting in relaxation.

“Is that better?” you ask him, rubbing his hip gently.

“Yeah, it’s so comfy.”

“That’s good.”

You slide your hand to his butt, eliciting a gasp from him. 

“Relax. I’m just gonna get rid of the ache, okay?” you assure him.

He giggles, wiggling his butt against your hand.

The rest of the movie is spent like this. By the end of it, Jungkook can barely keep his eyes open. He is so relaxed in your presence that the word stress doesn’t even exist in his mind anymore. Like most romance movies, it makes him cry when the couple is falling into each other’s arms happily.

You watch it happen fondly, providing him comfort by scratching his back slowly while he sniffles and whimpers in happy tears. You are so immensely in love with him. He brought out the real you, the you who is so happy to be soft and who loves to watch cheesy romance movies.

Jungkook lets out an especially loud sniffle, shoulders shaking. 

“Gosh Bunny, are you alright?” 

“Yes”, he is talking in a pout, “they’re so in love. I’m so happy”, he whines and sobs, hugging your legs to hide away in them. 

“You’re the cutest”, you coo, ruffling his hair. 

“They’re so in love. I love this movie so much.”

“Me too, Bunny. It’s a very cute ending.”

“Yes. So cute.” He flips over, looking up at you sniffly and teary eyed. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bunny”, you say softly, wiping his tears. He always gets like this after a romantic movie. He cries in happiness, then needs to look at you and tell you his feelings. It is as if the love in the movie filled his heart with too many feelings of its own and the only remedy is the view of you. 

“I love you so much that, that if we were both bunnies and we were cuddling, I’d put one ear over you to keep you warm.”

Your heart flutters, bursting in giddiness. You let out a squeal of too much cuteness and drag him into a kiss by squishing both his cheeks. 

He stumbles to his knees, ending up on your lap soon after with his hands on the nape of your neck and his flushed cheeks under your fingertips. 

You always get like this after a romantic movie. He tells you cute things and you get so overwhelmed by them that you need to kiss him until his head is foggy and his lips are tender. You are starving and the only taste you crave is his kiss. 

The hunger was especially unbearable tonight. The silent understanding of the power dynamic added craving to the starvation. Oh, you cannot get enough of him. 

Your fingers, once tasked with cradling his face, fall to his dainty waist. Jungkook gasps, breaking the kiss with parted lips.

“You’re mine”, you lull the words, eyes still closed. He is wearing an oversized jumper but when you hold him like this, it exposes the real size of his waist. It makes you a little crazy.

“Yes, Mommy. I am”, he whimpers, squirming in your possessive touch. 

“I’ll make you mine even more with the ribbons.”

He giggles, nodding his head.

“Yes, Mommy. You can do whatever you want to.”

“What if I wanna keep going until you made a mess?”

Jungkook exhales shakily, nodding his head. 

“Please…”

“Yes? You’d want that?” 

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Fuck, Bunny. I don’t know if I can control myself any longer.”

Jungkook rolls his hips on your lap, sighing his words, “don’t control yourself please.”

“But I have to. You’re so soft, I’d only break you.” 

Jungkook exhales shakily, falling around your neck. Your words are so strong. Your voice does the rest. Jungkook with his obvious and immense voice kink is broken.

“Please Mommy, please don’t hold back please”, he begs.

“You’re lucky that you’re so cute”, you say and stand up with him in your arms. Jungkook wraps his legs around, moaning happily because he thinks that you will carry him to bed. 

You, however, set him down on the sofa, keeping his eyes on you by guiding his head. 

“Can you stay put for me?” 

“Yes, Mommy. I can”, Jungkook promises, nodding his head obediently.

“Good boy. Be patient, I’ll be back soon”, you tell him, giving him one last forehead kiss before you leave him to prepare everything.

You clean the coffee table of the dessert and disappear upstairs to get the ribbons, jogging down with them.

Jungkook stayed put the entire time, sitting up straight and with his eyes focused on the wall before him. He turned the television off.

“Look at you.”

His eyes are instantly on you. 

“You’re such a good boy. You stayed put.”

He exhales shakily, following you with his eyes as you return to him. You stand in front of him, combing your fingers through his hair. His eyes fall closed, his lips part. He lets out a quiet moan, sounding so sweet. 

“You’re so handsome”, you speak softly and will continue to do so for the rest of this moment. It feels right to do. It is such a comfortable and healing moment, which can only be enjoyed when whispered.

Jungkook is in heaven because of it. There is nothing more comforting to him than being spoken to softly. He feels so safe in your presence. So incredibly safe.

“Keep your head like this”, you order him and because Jungkook has no ounce of brattiness in his bones, he listens well.

“Good boy.”

Your praise makes his entire body tingle. It is the main reason why he could never disobey you. Why would he, if the reward for being good is your praise in your voice? 

His eyes are still closed which means that the sudden soft ribbon around his neck surprises him. He opens his eyes, coming face to face with your features as you tie a loose bow around his neck. His heart flutters.

You give the ribbon a gentle tug once tied, making him sigh in bliss and tilt his head back to reveal more of his adorned neck. 

“What a pretty little present you are”, you say, caressing his chin before you move on to another part of his body.

Jungkook feels so warm in his chest. He swears that he could touch the stars right now. He is yours and he is it gladly.

The next ribbon you wrap around his chest, ending it with a surprise kiss on his lips because the position allows it. Jungkook scrunches his entire face in giddiness, gazing at you as he giggles. 

You giggle with him, caressing his cheeks because he deserves it. 

“It’s funny. I’m calling you a present but I’m wrapping you up instead of unwrapping you.” 

“It’s so nice”, he sighs, kicking his feet. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty epic. Now next. Arms.” 

Jungkook shifts them into the correct position all on his own, earning himself yet another praise. And yet again, it leaves him tingly. 

You decorate his left arm first, then his right, ending it by giving his arms gentle rub downs. Jungkook shivers, flexing his muscles for you.

“So strong. Have you been increasing the weights?”

“Yeah, I have.”

“I can really tell. What a strong Bunny you are.”

“Thanks, Mommy”, Jungkook croaks, voice trembling. Is it possible to orgasm from too much praise? Because if he gets praised any more, he might actually cum. 

“Now, wrists.”

He presents them proudly, palms facing up and next to each other. It is a given that you have to kiss each of them. It would be a crime if you didn’t. 

Afterwards, you guide them together, tying a ribbon around them. You make sure that they wouldn’t pinch or cut off blood flow but still keep him in place, finishing it with a pretty bow. 

“Wow, look at you”, you have to squeak because the view of him makes you so giddy. 

Jungkook giggles and shimmies on the couch, kicking his feet. 

“You are so fucking adorable. Gosh”, you cradle his face. “I could eat you.” 

He smiles dreamily, leaning into your touch. He gets kissed on his forehead and feels eternal. He loves you so very much.

“Now stay like this. I need to take a video like she did”, you say and pick up your phone. You scroll on it with two hands, scrunching your brows. 

Jungkook has to giggle, gazing up at you.

“What?” 

“Nothing. It’s just, when you’re using your phone like this, you’re really channeling your Mommy energy. You look like you never used a phone before.”

“Wow, rude”, you laugh, nudging his cheek, “it’s not my fault that new technology uses such tiny fonts. Oh here, found you camera app.”

Jungkook snickers and shifts back into position. His heart is racing so much. You make him so happy. 

“Now look the prettiest for me”, you say and press record. 

Jungkook does his very, very best to pose for you. He keeps his back straight, his wrist presented, he gives you puppy eyes and even does a little lip bite. If you want him looking the prettiest for the cameras, then he will look the prettiest.

“Wow, look at you”, you gush, replaying the video, “you’re so handsome.”

“Can I see too, please?” 

“Of course. Look.” 

You show him the video. Jungkook watches intently, having to squirm on the sofa. The ribbons look so good on his body, he looks so owned. 

“Aren’t you adorable?” 

“Yeah”, he gets out shakily, biting his lower lip afterwards.

You watch it happening, feeling tingly. You put the phone aside and sit down next to him, patting your lap.

“Come here. I’ve got one more ribbon I want to put on you.” 

Jungkook gladly obeys, climbing on your lap in a way so that he was facing you. He squirms at the feeling of your touch on his body, trying his hardest not to moan. It would be so embarrassing if he already moaned before you even as much as played with his cock. 

Judging by the hungry glimmer in your eyes, this is exactly what you are planning to do. And Jungkook can barely breathe because of it. He misses your touch so much. 

“Lift your butt.” 

He obeys. You hook your fingers in his sweats and tug them over his perky butt. 

“Wait. I can help.” 

“Do it.”

Jungkook stands up for the time being, letting you undress him. He steps out of his sweats and later his briefs, then climbs back on your lap. His oversized jumper still adorns his torso, looking so pretty. 

You tug it from his cock, letting it pool behind it. He is already hard, throbbing when the fabric brushes his tip. 

"Aw, look at you. Is someone really needy for my touch?” 

“Yes, so needy. Please.” 

“Mhm, soon. Just gotta get you pretty for me.”

Jungkook giggles. You are wrapping the last ribbon around the base of his cock. You snicker because hearing him laugh makes you want to join him.

“How’s that for a last place?”

“Sexy…oh god, I can feel it aahmm.”

You give it a gentle tug, then finish it off with a bow. Jungkook definitely feels the pressure, but it isn’t as intense as a cockring would be. He likes it so much that he is biting his lower lip again, furrowing his brows. 

“How’s the pressure?”

“Good. Gentle.”

“That’s good. Let me know if it gets uncomfortable.”

“I will.” He squirms. “Please. Can you touch me?” 

“How can I refuse you when you’re so polite?” 

You close your hand around his adorned base and dance it up to his tip.

“Ah, Mommy”, Jungkook moans loudly, arching his back and throwing his head back. 

You watch his reaction with a tingling stomach, having to chuckle. Jungkook hears it, rolling his head to the front to look at you nervously. Your hand is around his tip, motionless and driving him insane.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks quietly.

“It’s just that I literally only put my hand around your cock and you’re already moaning so much. It’s adorable.”

“Mommy, don’t tease me please. I can’t help it”, he whines, pouting.

“Aw, I’m sorry Bunny. Here, let me make it up to you”, you say and finally pick up a rhythm.

“Woah”, Jungkook gasps, eyes widening and cock twitching between your fingers. Next he bites his lower lip - again - and mewls, furrowing his brows. Lastly, he arches his back and drops his head. His mouth opens, his high-pitched moans escape.

“So good. Such a good boy”, you rasp, hand moving around his cock in a constant rhythm. Slow and dragged out because you want him aware of every single movement. “You sound so sweet for me.”

“Feels….so….good….aaahmmm.”

“It does, Bunny. I love touching your cock. You’re so pretty and perfect.” 

He twitches each time you praise him, tip glistening between your fingertips and shaft pulsating needily. You want to be everywhere at the same time. It is so addicting to touch his cock.

“Oh god, it feels so good”, he croaks and throws his head back, dropping his tied up hands against your chest. He is clutching whatever small amount of fabric his constricted hands can grasp, moaning your nickname like it is all that he can do. 

“There we go, hold onto me. Good boy.”

“Please, seriously, please don’t stop”, he begs, legs tightened around your thighs.

“Mhm, you must feel so good right now”, you whisper mindlessly.

He nods his head vigorously, hips shaking on your lap. He moans just for you, delighting you even more. He does. He feels so good right now. So, so good. Nobody, not even himself, could touch him like you are able to.  

“Of course you do. It would be a shame if I just…” you trail off, removing your hand from his cock.

“No please”, he whines, rolling his head to the front. He gives you the most lethal puppy eyes, pouting. “Please, Mommy. I-I was a good boy.”

“Yeah, that’s true. You were.” 

“Please?” 

He is so adorable. Pink ribbons around his dainty wrists, his pretty hair a mess and drool covering his puffy lips. Your husband has never looked cuter before. You can’t say no to him. You just can’t.

“Put your arms behind my head.”

He obeys.

“Good boy, now let me taste your moans.”

Jungkook moans, leaning in to kiss you. He instantly uses tongue, moaning louder when you wrap your hand around his cock again to pump it. He throbs between your fingers, leaking all over them. 

You pick it up and use it to increase the speed of your touch. He was such a good boy tonight and you want to make him feel good. No more teasing, he is supposed to feel in heaven from now on. 

And you know that he does. He moans and whimpers, breaking the kiss every now and then when he needs to gasp for air or be a little louder. You talk sweet words to him whenever he has to, playing with his hair or rubbing circles into his neck. 

It isn’t long after that Jungkook can’t kiss you back anymore, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.

“Mommy please”, he sobs, convulsing on your lap. His entire weight is on you right now, also pressing on your chest because he is currently squeezing himself against you. 

His arms are restless, tensing and flexing as his shaky hands try to break free from their constraints. He could easily break free, but you ruined him enough that his muscles feel weak. 

“Do you like this?”

“Like it. Ah” he sobs, “ahmmmm Mommy…”

“My sweet Bunny. Lean into me, that’s good.”

“I have to…soon… please can I?”

“Yes, my baby, you can. Just let me do it for you. Make a mess for me, baby”, you encourage him, pumping his weeping tip. 

His veins are bulging by now, his base is stretching the ribbon. He is so restless on your lap that he constantly rubs his balls on you as well. It feels so good. Jungkook is entirely and utterly in your hands.

Quite literally. 

And it only takes him three mores strokes to make a total mess of them.

He squeaks, tenses up and then you feel it. Warm, messy cum shoots from his cock  covering your hand and parts of your bodies. He sobs your name when the shakes finally set in, holding you close as best as possible. 

“Good boy. Cum for me. Fuck, you’re such a good boy”, you talk him through it, keeping your touches focused on his tip because he is most sensitive there. 

Jungkook is able to handle nine pumps and then overstimulation sets in, instantly making him beg and whine. 

“Stop please. No more, please.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

“Thank you, Mommy. Thank you!” 

“There we go, good boy.” 

Now satisfied, you release him of his pleasurable hell. You keep the messy hand between his legs for now, hugging him with your other arm. 

And Jungkook falls into a trance of gratefulness, afterglow and adoration. He sighs and whimpers, gasps and sighs some more as his body recovers from the intense high.

“Thank you Mommy. I love you.” The two sentences repeat themselves, growing quieter and quieter the deeper he falls into the relaxing afterglow.

“You’re welcome, Bunny. I love you too”, you answer him every single time, feeling entirely content. Honestly, you could play with him for hours. Being with him like this, makes you so happy. 

It is Jungkook who breaks the cozy hug, running his eyes over your features. He is smiling with them, cheeks flushed and bangs sticking to his forehead. 

“I made a mess”, he confesses and snickers.

“You made a mess. A pretty big one actually. You really needed that orgasm, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I think I did. I feel so submissive tonight and so soft and then you dressed me up in the ribbons and praised me and yeah…” he grins goofily. “I love being your sub, Mommy.”

“And I love being your Domme, Bunnybaby.” 

“Can we do this again one day? Please? Oh, I feel so cozy right now”, he says and snuggles into you. “I don’t want to leave this space.”

“Of course we can do this again. Maybe I’ll tie you to something when we do.”

“Yes please. Please do this”, he sighs and melts into a total weak mess of limbs on your lap.

His heart is racing. You hold him close, snuggling your nose into the crook of his neck. He smells like a good orgasm and his floral shower gel. You love his scent. 

“My Bunny”, you whisper, melting into him as well.

Date day is going to be extra romantic tomorrow. After such a night, it will be difficult not to stick to him at all times.

[pupkashi]

a/n: kakashi word vomit i wanna make out w him

masterlist

kakashi is so attractive & he never believes it until you show him how much you’re attracted to him. when you first see him you’re doing a double take bc no one said the famous copy ninja was such a stunner ???

it takes a lot of courage and teasing from asuma and kurenai before you even think about talking to the silver haired shinobi. at first kakashi thinks you’re nervous because you’re scared of him, so he assures you he wouldn’t hurt you.

“you don’t have to be so nervous y’know, i don’t bite” he smiles, eye crinkling and it makes you flush.

“I’ve just never tried flirting with someone as attractive as you” you blurt out, cursing kurenai for encouraging the three shots you took before walking over to kakashi.

kakashi is shocked, his only visible eye now wide and mouth in the shape of an ‘o’ (even if you can’t see it). he doesn’t say anything, wondering how you could find someone as average as him attractive.

nevertheless kakashi doesn’t make you feel awkward, continuing the conversation. the two of you click perfectly, laughing softly and getting to know each other. kakashi is quick to ask you when he’d see you again, thankful his mask is hiding his profuse blushing.

four months later the two of you as sitting on his couch, the movie was mere background noise as you looked at your boyfriend, something akin to a magnetic force pulling your lips towards his exposed neck. you press feathery kisses all over it, kakashi sighs softly.

“thought you wanted to watch this movie?” he chuckles, moving his neck so you can kiss him with more ease. his words are airy, and you know he’s not complaining nor does he want you to stop.

“you’re too hot to not make out with” you breathe out between kisses, planting some along his jawline before finally landing on his lips.

kakashi is quick to move you, grabbing you by the hips and placing you on his lap. he’s never been one to deny your affection, and he wasn’t gonna start today.

he thinks maybe you’re just feeling clingy today, he’s been gone on a mission for a week or so anyway. that must be all it is. kakashi chalks it up to you missing him after missions for months, no matter how many times you tell him you just think he’s so fucking hot.

it’s not until a little over a two years into your relationship that kakashi lies awake in bed, realizing you’d never once stopped showering him with your affection and compliments. he’d figured once the honeymoon phase was over the rose tinted glasses you had on must’ve come off, but it seemed like they never did.

every day you still greeted him with a sweet smile and a flurry of kisses, “how was your day handsome?” or “hi pretty boy, how’d it go?” or any variation which included complimenting him.

kakashi lets his mind wander, grateful that you were as in love with him as he was you. you stirred in your sleep, flipping and curling into your lovers side unconsciously. it made his heart stutter as he closed his eyes, letting your warmth and steady breathing lull him to sleep.

kakashi comes home the next day with his vest already off, navy undershirt untucked and hair flopping naturally over his forehead.

“how was work toda-” you feel the words stuck in your throat as you drink in the look of your boyfriend. he usually gets home in uniform and immediately goes to the shower and you see him freshened up and changed. it’s a rare, breathtaking sight to see him as disheveled as he in right now.

“what? do i still have blood on my face?” he haphazardly wipes at his face with the back of his hand. you shake your head at him, not trusting your voice as you clear your throat and lean in to kiss his cheek. “what’s got you so flustered, pretty?” his deep honey voice has your cheeks burning as you stare at him.

“you look good” you admit, a small smile on your lips, not trying to hide how badly you wanted to jump his bones in that moment.

“hmm, do i? ‘m all sweaty” kakashi mumbles, letting a cocky grin play on his lips as he bends over slightly to allow his lips to hover over yours, “missed me that much baby? you made me late this morning” he smiles as your crash your lips into his, not able to hold yourself back when he was only mere inches away from you.

“not my fault you’re so fucking attractive” you say between kissing him, squealing softly when kakashi pulls you into him by your waist.

it’s in every kiss your place to his skin, ever gentle and needy touch, breathing your love into him as you hold him impossibly close. every action and gesture of yours is enough to reassure him as you shoo him off to shower while you finish dinner. kakashi lets the hot water hit his flushed skin with a happy sigh, forever grateful he paid for asuma’s lunch for a month in exchange for him to play cupid.

[strawwiibernyy]

Bitter Love - Park S.

__________________

[Bully!Sunghoon x Reader]

warnings! yandare!sunghoon, mental-physical abuse, fat-shaming, cursing, suggestive, smoking, bullying, obsessive behaviour, mentions of another idol (yeonjun), in general VERY DARK CONTENT.

words: 6k

╰┈➤ Going into high school, you kept yourself hidden, and you concentrated on your studies instead. However, you made yourself the target of the high school's most handsome boy, Park Sunghoon. His angelic appearance didn't match with his demon nature. Once he wants something, he will get it no matter what.

♪ Danger by BTS ♪

__________________

"What's up, hippo?" Small coughs left your mouth as you choked on your rice. Not again. You took ten seconds to calm down yourself before turning your head at the boy next to you. Park Sunghoon. You knew it was him by the second you heard the nickname. 

'Hippo.'

He called you like this because, according to him, you were fat. Well, not only to him if you wanted to be honest, but you didn't weight that much to be called fat. You had a normal body. 

Korean standards were harsh, especially when it came to women. Your body didn't fit. Most of the girls' bodies in your high school didn't fit. And you didn't understand why Sunghoon seemed to bully only you about it. You were his favorite toy.

"What's this?" He said, taking your chocolate cupcake from your lunch box. His eyes shined as he spun around his fingers the sweet, eager to taste it.

"Wait, my mom made it for me. Give it back!" You shouted, standing up to meet his height. However, the height difference between you two was ridiculously big. Your eyes travelled down to the floor and then back at his face. He had plastered on his usual smug smirk. Every time he embarrassed you, he would be the happiest in the world. Plus ten points if he made you tear up.

"Nah, I think I will keep it. I like cupcakes." And with that, he took a big bite from your food. The sweet that your mother baked for you and was so excited for you to taste it. You didn't want to cry in front of him. You knew he did these on purpose and enjoyed seeing you like this. Nevertheless, you weren't able to stop the tears in your eyes.

"No, don't cry!" He said between giggles once he noticed your glittery eyes. His friends behind him were already dying from laughter as they saw the first tear fall on the floor. "I am doing it for you! You eat a lot, Y/N. And if you get any fatter, none will want you."

Sunghoon licked his lips before he took another bite from the cupcake. And another one. And the cupcake was now long gone. Not knowing what to do, you chose to sit down quietly and wait till he leaves.

"Eh?" Sunghoon's eyes got wide as he looked down at your figure. Not wide from shock, but wide from anger.

"What? The fun is already over?" One of his friends, hearing in the name Jake, spoke. "Nah Sunghoon, let's go." Another one of them said, grabbing Sunghoon's shoulder. However, the black-haired boy pushed Jay's hand away.

"So you give up so easily?" Sunghoon spoke again. He was trying to play it cool, yet you noticed how his forced smirk trembled. "Stand the fuck up and go throw your trash." The cute, heart-shaped wrap from the cupcake landed on your head and then fell down on the floor. You made direct eye-contact with it, yet you didn't make any move to pick it up.

Sunghoon had started to get worried. Since he started bullying you in the first grade of high school, you always reacted. You either yelled at him, or hit him back, or his favourite; you would cry. But in your last year, you didn't even spare at him a glance.

"I am talking to y-"

"Stop!" Your only friend stood up, making her way towards Sunghoon. He had grabbed your shoulder, pushing your body from right to left. With your best friend's burst, he ripped his hand off of you.

"What?" The cafeteria was now silent. All eyes were on them. A furious Sunghoon and an even more furious Arisu. You had pleased her to not stand up against him since all the school would hate her as well. When you are being bullied by the most handsome boy in school who is also a famous model, it is normal for other girls to do not want to interrupt. None dared to disagree with him.

He had the money. He had the face. He had the fame.

He had everything.

"What is your problem with her, dude? Go find someone else to bother if you are so bored with your life!" Your head turned at Arisu, your eyes even more teary. She was a very skinny and cute girl, fitting very well the beauty standards compared to the rest of the girls in school. You were always curious why a girl as beautiful as her would want to hang out with you. And now, she was standing tall against Park Sunghoon, for your sake.

"What? Why are you the one not talking now? Talk!" While Arisu continued, you were becoming even more frightened for her. You didn't want her to experience what you have experienced in all your high school life. Not because of you.

Sunghoon looked at you, then at Arisu, then back at you. 

"Meet me after school at the roof. Don't you dare not show up." You felt his hot breath hitting your ear as he whispered those words to you, making you shiver. His hand pressing one last time onto your back before walking away. Each one of his friends following behind him like puppies. You glanced back up at Arisu who seemed even more angry from Sunghoon's ignorance.

"Hey! Hey!"

"Arisu, it's okay." You gripped her hand, not letting her move any further. Her dark brown eyes focused on your own ones, her breathing slowing down. "Thank you so much, but you didn't have to." Crystal hot tears rolled down your cheek while your overwhelming emotions got to you.

"What did he say to you?" She asked, and your body froze. Should I tell her?  "What did he say?!" She continued, and you left a deep sigh.

"He said that I should be careful. Nothing that matters. You know, one of his usual threats." Your friend nodded and sat back down to continue her meal. You weren't, though. Sunghoon's eyes were piercing your back, probably waiting to see again your crying face. You had a long time to cry.

"I am going to the bathroom for a moment and I am coming back. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

The bell rung and the students begun to run out of their classes. Loud voices filled the once empty halls, happy that this Friday finally came to an end. However, you weren't. You didn't want the last period to never end. Because now, you had to face Park Sunghoon. Alone.

You didn't tell Arisu about the meetup. Not only because she would get crazy angry and end up arguing with Sunghoon, but also because she had a date. 

Riki Nishimura from Park Sunghoon's friend group seemed to like Arisu. She was one of the few Japanese girls that the school had welcomed and Riki was quick to take an interest in her. He wasn't as bad as the rest of his friends. The opposite. He and Sunoo seemed to be two kind young men who ended up in a bad situation. That's why they hanged out mostly with each other and other people.

You were sure Arisu liked him back, even though she wouldn't admit it even to herself. The fact that he is in Park Sunghoon's friend group annoys her. Although you had ensured her that this relationship would be okay with you, she still had doubts about Riki.

"He said we should go to a new cat cafe that opened last week." Arisu told you while fixing her make-up. Her pink lip-gloss sliding across her bottom lip in such an elegant way. How badly you wished you could be as beautiful and brave as her.

"Cat cafe? I am sure you will have a great time! Don't forget to send me photos of the cats." You gave her a warm smile and in return she gave you a thump's up.

"Alright! See you on Monday!"

"See you!" The forced smile on your lips stayed firm until she was out of your view. Your waving hand dropped, and you started walking to the stairs railing. Taking the first step, you stopped your trucks.

What if I don't go? What will he do? Or what if I call a teacher? They will be able to help.

No, they won't. The principal is friends with Sunghoon's father and he goes to their house for dinner every Sunday. The only person who could support you now was yourself.

Clenching your fists, you started climbing up the stairs with strong steps. I am sure about myself. I can fight him!

And all of those motivating words faded from your mind once the cold air hit you.

You knew how this would go. A chat where you and Park Sunghoon were alone. It has happened again. Not a lot of times, but those a few times were memorable. You didn't know why, but he had this longing to touch you.

Every time he found you alone at your locker, he would throw down your stuff. Only for him to peek under your skirt when you would bend down to get them. When he did that, he would move his hips closer, feeling the thin air between your body and his.

When he would sit next to you in class, his hand would travel to your things as he gripped hard on them. He called this 'the quiet game'. The rules were that you had to be silent while his hands explored your body. His fingers felt like fire to your skin, even if you "hated" him.

He was forcing himself on you every time. And that's what exactly he did now.

"Sunghoon!" A sob escaped your mouth when you felt your back hitting the wall. His hands gripping your wrists, which were pinned at the sides of your face. You could already feel the bruises forming as he digged his nails deeper into the skin. He licked his lips, eyeing you up and down before stopping at your face.

"What's that show your friend gave?" He asked, laughing, and his left hand went to your waist.

"Stop!" You cried out while his hand started rubbing your side. Your free hand tried to push him away, but it was too weak. He quickly took it instead, placing it above your head along with the other one, letting his other hand roam around your figure.

The worst part was that you didn't actually want him to stop.

"You think you and your friend can yell at me like that? I have said to you, Y/N, multiple times. Don't you dare disobey me." From the waist, his hand rested on your left thing. Your cheeks heated up, feeling his long fingers brushing your inner thing. You tried to close the gap between your legs, but he put his hand between them. Now you were in an even worst position.

"Please Sunghoon, stop! I won't ever try to stand up to you ever again!" Sunghoon's smile got wider when he saw those tears he craved so much run down your face like a river. You were crying so much that you had wet yours and his shirt as well. You didn't want him to see you like this, but you were unable to stop yourself.

He wanted more. He needed to see more. 

He ached for your attention.

"Beg me some more and I might let you go." He let out a breathy laugh and pinched your thing. A small sound left from your lips mixed with surprise and pleasure. Wait, pleasure?

"Ahh, Sunghoon! Sunghoon, please, I will obey you! I will do whatever you want. Ah!" He seemed to love that side of you. His messed up mind enjoyed seeing you begging for his mercy. You sure repaid him for his earlier disappointment. The sounds coming out of your lips enough to drive him crazy.

Even if he bullied you, he always made sure to keep his control. However, now he had lost all of it. His hand left your things and took a hold of your left cheek. Your eyes narrowed, seeing his eyes slowly closing and his head titling to the side.

Oh, no! Your eyes got wide and more tears slipped down. No, no, no, no. You couldn't give him your first kiss!

With all the strength you had left, you turned your head to the opposite side. Anywhere away from his lips. Although your hard tries, his grip was stronger. He forced his lips on your plump ones, not giving you anytime to adjust before he forced his tongue in as well.

Tears and tears and more tears. You were sure you had wasted all of them. His free hand left your cheek and took a hold of your hip, bringing you closer to him. His head was pushing front so you wouldn't be able to turn your head as he explored your mouth with his tongue. You squirmed when he bit your lips, hard enough to draw blood.

"What is happening here?!" A stern female voice was heard and Sunghoon pulled away. The short teacher in front of you seemed furious until the student that was currently making out with a girl ended up being Park Sunghoon.

"Ah, Sunghoon, was that you? I am sorry I didn't know. How is your mother doing? Your father? I am sorry that I annoy you guys, but you have to go. The principal is already on his way to leave."

"Oh, alright. Y/N, we are going!" Sunghoon shouted for you, placing his hands in his pockets and casually passing the female teacher. That's when she got a clear view of your face. Stained tears and red eyes. Your lip was bloody and your gaze showing how frightened you were. 

"I am sorry, is your girlfriend alright?"

"I am not his-"

"She's alright. She only had a minor accident and twisted her ankle. I will take care of it-"

"No." The teacher got in between you two once she saw Sunghoon's hand ready to grab yours. Sunghoon's gaze darkened as he looked at his teacher, his patience running out. "I am sorry, Sunghoon, but I am afraid that I can't let her go like this. She must go to the nurse's office."

Sunghoon's eyes softened, turning into his usual bored ones. He gathered his hand, looking at you and then the teacher. God, thank you.

"Ah, okay, I am going then. Bye hippo." He gave you a wink and began to walk down the stairs. You and the teacher waited a little till he left. And that's the moment you exploded. Breaking down to tears, crying on the hard floor. But the kind teacher helped you stand up and walked you to the nurse's office.

You just had my first kiss. And your first kiss was stolen by your biggest enemy. 

Park Sunghoon.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

"I am sorry." The teacher spoke while messaging your ankle. You were currently at the nurse's office, expect the nurse had already left. So the teacher ended up taking of your 'twisted ankle'.

"What. Why?" You shattered, eyes wide at her words. Her hands stopped working on your ankle, standing up from the chair. You were sitting on the bed, furrowing at her.

"I know what really happened back there. I mean with Sunghoon. I didn't buy that lie about your ankle." You froze, lowering down your head in shame.

"I am sorry-"

"Don't." She cut you off. She was more embarrassed than you. Her gaze didn't dare to go at you. "I am sorry because I can't help. Going against Park Sunghoon is like setting myself up to lose my job."

You wouldn't talk. You left her to speak instead, even though you had already forgiven her. Not all people have the ease of abandoning their jobs and find a new one.

She may have a husband, a family, and a lot of kids. You understand her. You really do. But who will save you from Park Sunghoon?

"I will try to keep you away from him." She continued, finally looking at you. "But I don't promise you anything." You nodded, thankful for her words. At least you will escape the worst he can do to you.

Then she revealed to you everything she knows. The deepest secrets she knows about Park Sunghoon, and what shaped his personality. His back story, and his family's true nature.

"Sunghoon was always a handsome boy. Since a young age, everyone would get shocked when they saw the beautiful boy. And his parents are known clout chasers."

"What do you mean?" You interrupted her, adjusting your seat to the bed. The woman sat again across from you, a sigh leaving her lips.

"I mean that they do everything for money and fame. So when Sunghoon was born, they wasted no time to take advantage of his handsome face."

Imagining Sunghoon young felt weird. A kind and innocent boy which played with his sister. Now that innocent boy was long gone. It's like something erased his childhood. If he even had lived them.

"He went through abuse, mental and physical. His whole life, he was in front of a camera. He never met motherly affection."

This information made you feel actually bad about him. All those pranks he has pulled on you. All this bullying that you have suffered. You couldn't help but ask her the question that's been bothering you all these years.

"W-why me?" The teacher couldn't hear your weak voice, some sobs escaping along with it. "Why he chose me to bully? I am no different that any girl here."

The woman sighed at the question, a small smile going on her lips. "I don't know. But if he chose you, then it means you won't escape that easily."

Your breath got stuck in your neck, looking into her brown eyes. There was no hope for you behind them. Not even trying to sound hopeful.

"Park Sunghoon doesn't stop till he gets what he wants."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

"He is so kind, nothing like his friends!" Arisu said, closing her locker. After what happened with Sunghoon yesterday, you didn't dare to tell anything to your friend.

Not only because she would get mad at you for not supporting yourself, but also it could destroy her beautiful bond with Riki. She liked the boy very much, even if she won't admit it. Telling her what happened will have a bad influence on the couple too.

As you were talking with Arisu about her perfect date, Sunghoon's friend group walked by. They always walked by your lockers, even if theirs were further away from yours. It was Sunghoon's order. This strong urge he has to see you.

Your eyes flickered towards Sunghoon. He walked around with his hands in his pockets. The rest behind him were laughing about something, while Sunghoon's face stayed the same cold one.

Cold till he saw you. A smirk went up to his lips, coming closer to you. Arisu on the other hand looked towards Riki. You tried to avoid Sunghoon's piercing gaze. Yet before you could turn around, he winked towards your way.

"What was that?" Arisu asked, noticing the wink too. Your cheeks had taken a deep shade of red. You shrugged your shoulders, and with trembling hands, you closed your locker.

The bell rung and you went to your class. Sunghoon's action this time didn't anger your friend. It made you relax, letting a sigh escape your lips. Entering the class, you saw the last thing you wanted to see.

Sunghoon sitting next to your seat.

Your actual seatmate has talked to you a lot of times about Sunghoon. She complained about him threating her to give up her seat. At least she doesn't get in trouble since the teachers obey Sunghoon.

"I am sorry." You whispered to your actual seatmate as you walked towards Sunghoon. Her eyes were teary and you don't even want to imagine what could he have said to her.

That boy is pure devil.

"Hippo, I was waiting for you." Sunghoon smirked, throwing his hand around your shoulder once you had sat. His fingers traced your hair while you were doing the best to ignore him. That's what he wanted. Attention from you.

"Why won't you talk, huh?" His fingers got rougher while caressing your hair. You continued to take out your books like nothing happened, gulping loudly. "Talk." He pulled a strad of your hair.

Before he could do anything else, the teacher stepped in. Sunghoon took his hand away from you, and your shoulders relaxed again. Your eyes got big to see the teacher from yesterday at the nurse's office enter.

She is your only hope.

"Good morning, kids." She began with a huge smile on her lips. However, that smile dropped when she noticed Sunghoon next to you. He had spread his long legs as wide as he could to annoy you.

"Stop it." You whispered when you felt his palm sitting on your thing. The teacher had turned to the board, and he had found his change. Not that he was afraid to do it in front of her.

"So now you talk?" Sunghoon whispered back, caressing your thing and pinching it. Your body felt very warm. It irritated that he could get a reaction out of your body like that. Your handsome bully gripping your thing, and you enjoyed it.

Your breath got stuck in your neck when his hand went further up. Too up for your comfort. You shifted in your seat, yet Sunghoon's hand held your leg down. He smirked when he noticed your red cheeks.

"Oh, you like it hippo. Who else would touch such a fattie like you?" It was dangerous. His hand wouldn't leave, it would only cover a bigger space in your thing. And his hand was reaching for something that was not your thing.

You closed your eyes shut, sounds threating to escape your lips. No, no, no, no. You didn't want to enjoy this. You hated yourself for liking his touch, his face, his attitude. His finger played with the waistband of your panties. And before he could make any more moves.

"Y/N Y/L please change seats with Park Jay." Sunghoon's hand flew back to its place. His frown was big as he watched you standing up. He got so mad that he didn't keep his mouth shut.

"Why should she?" He shouted, putting his hands back on the desk. You had already gone two rows at the front. Now he couldn't annoy you anymore. But he was still trying to get you back.

"Because I know Y/L has a slight problem with her eyesight. So it's good if she changed to the seats at the front." With the teacher's explanation, the boy couldn't say anything else.

You looked at the teacher with a smile. She looked back at you. Her expression stayed firm in order to not give anything away. You nodded, thanking her in silence. To that, she reacted with a small smile and turned back to the lesson.

Sunghoon hadn't understood anything. You were sure about it. At least you hoped he hadn't, because the teacher was only trying to help you.

However, he was smart enough to notice it. Notice your reaction when the specific teacher stepped in and noticed the teacher keeping a close eye on you.

He had understood. And he wasn't going to let it pass by.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

It was the weekend. You were finally getting a break from Sunghoon's harsh behaviours. But to be honest, on those days you cried uncontrollably. The thoughts of Sunghoon's next actions brought you an enormous fear.

Your parents had left the house to go for dinner. You hadn't told them anything about Sunghoon, and you wouldn't anytime soon. Now they enjoyed their dinner, while you sat alone in your bedroom.

Suddenly, your doll bell rung. Assuming that your parents might have come back, you opened the door. And you whished your actions could be erased and never opened it.

"Hey." Sunghoon said, a smirk plastered on his face. You froze at the sight of the boy. He has ruined your life. He makes you live with a constant fear. And now he has the nerve to show up to your house?

"W-what are you-" You were trying to speak, ask for an explanation. You felt your previous tears coming back, yet you didn't want to cry in front of him.

"Crying already?" His eyes light up when the first tear came out. He was sick in his mind. "Come on hippo, I am taking you out." He said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the house. His rough fingers imprinted on your skin while you were trying to break free.

"S-Sunghoon, please-" You choked out in cries. By now your eyes had gotten red, barely seeing between the tears. He had pulled you out of your house, his harsh pull making you fall in the front. A scream left your mouth, eyes pinned on your bloody knees.

"Oh, you are so cute like this." He smirked, closing the door behind him. Your head hanged low, not daring to make eye contact with him. You prayed for someone to stop by, for anyone.

And fortunately, your prayers were heard. As Sunghoon was preparing to force you up again, a loud voice cut him off.

"Leave the girl alone!" In seconds, Sunghoon's hand got dogged by another one. The stranger's hand was pale, not surpassing Sunghoon's, but still. Your eyes went up to your head, trying to take a glance at the random stranger.

The only thing you were able to make out through your tears were his black clothes. He also seemed pretty tall, the boy towering over you. Sunghoon's smug expression turned into a deep frown. He was furious in a way you had never seen.

"Mind your own fucking business! She is my girlfriend!"

"And you think that excuses your violent behaviour." The boy talked back, stepping closer to Sunghoon. Face to face, eyes burning with anger from both sides.

This was your change.

You placed your hands on the hard ground, forcing yourself to stand up. Sunghoon's eyes twitched, watching you escape. Leaving the boy behind, he tried to run in your direction. However, the kind boy got in front of him.

"Leave, quickly!" The boy said, holding back Sunghoon like a bull seeing red. That was the moment you took a clear sight of his face. And he was handsome. More handsome more than any boy you had seen.

Expect Sunghoon.

Sharp cat eyes along with plump lips, and high cheekbones. The black clothes he wore made him appear even prettier. You were lucky he found the way till here. Not only lucky, blessed.

You found a place to rest behind some bushes, hiding yourself in case Sunghoon starts looking for you. After a while, the boy who saved you spotted you behind the bushes.

"Oh, here you are! I was looking for you." He said, kneeling in front of your curled frame. You noticed his bloody lip and dark eye. Of course Sunghoon wouldn't leave without a fight. Noticing where your eyes were, he covered his bloody lip. An awkward giggle left his mouth, and the sound drove you to the skies.

"I am so sorry." You whispered, not daring to raise your eyes at him. The boy frowned before moving closer to you. He couldn't understand your apology.

"Why are you apologizing? It's not your fault that he is like that. A lot of boyfriends end up having violent behaviours, but you should know-"

"That dick is not my boyfriend!" You shouted, breaking down into your arms. It was embarrassing. Your parents can come back at any minute, while you were crying in front of a stranger in your pajamas and behind a bush.

Silence fell. The only sound was your muffled cries. The boy stood frozen, not knowing what to do. Suddenly, you felt a gentle touch caressing your head. It was so soft and innocent, a touch you had never received before.

Slowly, you revealed your face to him. Seeing how his expression instantly changed at the sight of your face made you want to cry even more. You could notice the pity behind his eyes. But also the curiosity.

"Wherever you want help." He began talking, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. "Call me. Since you don't have your phone with you, give me your number. I will call you later so you can save my number as well."

Your trembling fingers tapped on the screen, writing your number and then your name. "Y/N Y/L." The boy read, testing your name on his tongue. You never loved your name as much as you did now.

"Oh, I forgot! My name is Choi Yeonjun. Nice to meet you." He stretched out his hand for a handshake and you giggled. You couldn't help it but watching how gentle he was being with you made you happy. He was cute, dispite his dark appearance.

Like Sunghoon. He is a true demon, despite his angelic appearance.

"Wait, I hope you didn't tell your name to Sunghoon."

"To the boy from before? No, I didn't. Why would I? Wait, you said his name was Sunghoon? Park Sunghoon?" His name was known, yet for different reasons. For example, as the most handsome teenage model, and the son of the owner of a very rich company. He was an idol to a lot.

"I knew something was wrong with him! His eyes always looked dead." Yeonjun said, frowning at himself. Sunghoon's dark brown eyes truly held nothing other than hate and egoism.

His past was rough, but it had shaped him even rougher.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

You and Yeonjun have begun meeting up pretty often. You and him always excused those hangs out as purely out of worry, but you knew something else had grown between the two of you.

Your mind was filled with his smile as you walked towards your class. Clenching the books in your hands, a smile went up by itself in your mouth.

Till the usual boy pulled it off of you.

"Sunghoon-"

"Y/N, are you playing with me?" Your eyes got wide at his words. Playing with him? It made your blood boil with anger. His words, his voice, his face, the mention of his name.

Everything related to Park Sunghoon was a nightmare and a dream at the same time.

"What are you saying-"

"I saw you hanging out with that guy yesterday. Seems like I didn't beat him hard enough." He cut you off, his deep voice ringing in your ears. You shivered when you felt his touch again on your collarbone.

He started from the top like usual. Touching every single place, even the ones you didn't like to be touched at. Then he continued with the lower body, his fingers always being one step away from the forbidden contact.

Yet now you wanted to fight back. All those late night talks with Yeonjun didn't happen for you to just continue to bear it. His motivating words to fight back. His usual sentence "You have more power over him than he has on you."

Why? You didn't know, neither cared. But you were going to use his obsession against him.

You have more power over him. You have more power over him. You have more power over him!

"Sunghoon, I don't love you!" You yelled as loud as you could, pushing his chest back. It was the first time your hands worked in your favor, because the boy fell back on the desks. "I don't love you!" You yelled again, loud, so it could finally go through his ears.

And it seemed to work, because you left him frozen down on the floor. His eyes were wide and his mouth hanged open. You hated him. And you were finally going to show him that.

"Leave me alone and never bother me again. Because I don't love you back!"

Sunghoon, the boy who loved you like none else. But also the boy's love which was toxic like none else. You didn't care about his past. You didn't want to fix him. Because you couldn't bear the emotion he called 'love'.

You ran away, pushing through the thousand hallways. This time he wasn't chasing you, and it was freighting. Because you know Sunghoon wouldn't leave a behaviour like that unpunished.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

The next day at school, Arisu noticed your perplexed face. "What happened?" She asked, leaning against your locker. Her eyes went on your phone, unread messages on the screen.

"Do you remember the boy I was talking to you about?"

"Yes. The one you accidentally bumped into on your way home?" You nodded, hiding the truth of how you and Yeonjun met up. Arisu and Riki had now developed a beautiful relationship, and you didn't want to mess it up. Not again because of this stupid boy, Sunghoon.

"Well, it's been two days and he still hasn't seen my messages. I even went to the places he usually hangs out with his friends, but when I asked them about him, they replied that they haven't heard from him as well."

"That's weird." Arisu said, and you put your phone back inside your locker. Something was bothering you. Since you stopped talking with him, your chest felt heavy every day. Something inside you told you that this has something to do with Sunghoon.

The bell rang, and Arisu left to go to her class. You goodbyed your best friend with a hug before walking off to your own one. First period was Literature, the only class you shared with Sunghoon. Fortunately, that kind teacher who saved you that day at the roof was the teacher.

At least now, with her help, you don't have to bear his pinches at your things. You sit far away from him because of you don't see well. Such a good excuse that you never thought of. Entering the class, the teacher hadn't come yet.

"Um, I am sorry. This is my seat." You spoke to the male student currently accompanying the front seat. He gulped down and turned to look at you. He was trembling from head to toe, and his voice was thin when he spoke.

"N-no."

"But the teacher changed us-"

"Y/N." This voice was the only thing you needed to understand who was hiding behind this. Sunghoon threatened that poor boy. However, he can't scare you anymore. "This is his seat now." He continued, smirking at himself.

"No, this is my seat. You don't arrange the seats. Wait till the teacher comes." You didn't even turn around to look at him as you talked. If you did, you would be met with his huge smirk and sneaky gazes at his friends.

You waited and waited, yet the teacher never came but someone else. The principal?

"Good morning, kids. For personal reasons, our old literature teacher had to leave, but Ms. Kim has come to take her place. Please bow to your new teacher."

'What?'

Your head was spinning and your face had gotten pale at the sight of the tall man in front of you. Personal reasons? It can't be. She was so scared of losing her job, that was the main reason she couldn't help you properly.

A loud laugh filled the classroom, and you spun around to spot the person laughing. Park Sunghoon's mouth was wide open as he laughed non-stop. His hands held his stomach, and his friends started laughing as well at the situation.

It's because of him. The teacher's absence, Yeonjun's dead kakaotalk. Park Sunghoon was behind them all.

What could he have done to that poor boy? What could he have done to a mother that now is jobless? And what will he do now to you?

You stormed off of the class, ignoring your principal's yellings. Your ears were ringing and your eyes filled with ears again. This can't be happening. Sunghoon is after all is nothing but a heartless monster.

"Wait up, hippo." And even now that you left like that, he chased behind you. He had placed his hands in his pockets, waiting for you to stop running. You couldn't bear his smug expression. You wanted to punch it off of him.

"What did you do to them?!" You cried out loud, falling into your knees. Sunghoon left a breathy giggle, walking closer to you. More and more tears till you couldn't breath. You were frozen in place, and Sunghoon had caught up to you.

"Nothing too bad, sweetheart. Are you worried about your little boyfriend or the teacher? Don't worry, you will see them again. Maybe." His hand went to touch your head, but you slapped it away.

His smirk twitched for a moment. Yet it stayed firm and grew bigger at your cries. He loved seeing you cry. It excited him.

"Why are you doing this to me? I am ugly, anti-social and a nerd. So why to me?" The question he never replied. He didn't do it on purpose because he really couldn't reply. But he could show you why. He was better at that.

"Oh, hippo, when will you understand?" Sunghoon spoke, caressing your cheeks before grabbing them to make you look at him. A sweet smile was on his lips. An innocent one. However, his eyes didn't follow his angelic image.

"You will never escape from me."

__________________

A/N: REMINDER THAT THIS IS JUST FICTIONAL AND DOESN'T SHOW THE IDOL'S TRUE CHARACTER. I DON'T ENCOURAGE ANY OF THE ACTIONS WRITTEN IN REAL LIFE, THIS IS JUST A ONE SHOT. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ!

© all rights reserved to me — i do not allow anyone to copy, translate, or republish my works. all my stories are purerly fictional.

[eoieopda]

triple-dog dare | lsm

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario. 

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

pairing: lee seokmin x reader summary: when you're left off the guest list to seokmin's parent's thirtieth anniversary party, you're content to keep your questions to yourself and stay home. seokmin, on the other hand, is not content. in fact, he pulls the one card he knows will always win. au: childhood best friends to lovers genre: fluff, angst, smut type: one-shot rating: 18+ only. minors do not have my consent to interact. wc: 13k cw: pov switches, complicated sibling dynamics (seokmin’s), there is in fact one (1) bed, halmonis gone wild, stupid childhood nicknames, fingering (v), oral sex (m receiving), multiple orgasms, implied penetrative sex (p in v). reader notes: afab, uses she/her pronouns, wears a dress/heels to the party, is implicitly an only child. the setting is intentionally ambiguous, so she's not implicitly korean and/or asian. there are no descriptions of body shape/size, complexion, etc. a/n: thank you to the incomparable @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this! it's been a long damn time since i've written anything, so this might not have seen the light of day without jo, the hype-man. on that note, i suck at summaries; just read the fic, lmao. svt masterlist. svt permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist.

For being the walking disaster that he is, there have been shockingly few moments in Lee Seokmin’s life where he’s needed to shove his oversized foot into his oversized mouth.

Prior to the incident at your apartment, the last time he’d embarrassed himself like this was when he’d asked his oldest sister, Soyeon, in earnest whether or not she was pregnant, only to learn that she was just bloated; and he’s just an ass.

To your credit, you’re far from cruel when he slips up, but that almost makes it worse. You visibly deflate when he asks his well-intentioned but ill-fated question, rather than letting him have it the way his two siblings would have done.

The day in question went like this:

He asked, “Did you reserve your room yet for the 31st? If not, we can double up. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”

And you blinked, stunned like you’d been slapped. “Have I what?”

It dawned on you both at that moment that, for whatever reason, his parents’ thirtieth anniversary party was in fact news to you. Two things then happened at once: you tried to hide your surprise and the twinge of pain that comes with being excluded; and he racked his stupid brain to find any explanation for why you had to feel either one of those things.

The best option he found was to gently toss his middle sister, Seonmi, under the metaphorical bus. 

“Seonmi’s been working on something special for them. You know how she gets,” he waved dismissively. “So obsessed with finding the perfect napkins — ” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “— and creating custom cocktails, that she misses the forest for the trees.”

You didn’t look convinced. Likewise, you didn’t look any less uncomfortable.

Fuck.

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” To drive his point home, he reached from his spot on your couch to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I have a plus-one, so it’s not like it’ll be a logistical problem. You belong there as much as we do.”

And he meant it, wholeheartedly. 

All his life, the running joke has been that Soonyi and Minseok Lee have four kids: two biological daughters, a younger son, and his otherwise unrelated twin, who spent more time sleeping on his top bunk than in her own home next door. 

The way he saw it — and the way he’s sure his parents would see it — is that no family gathering is complete without you. That’s a hill he’d die on if need be.

You shifted in your seat, which caused his hand to slip off your knee, whether or not you meant for it to happen. Glancing uneasily out your window, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, mumbling, “I don’t know…”

Seokmin frowned. You didn’t see it, though, and therefore weren’t moved by it. Instead, you cycled through your anxious thoughts at high velocity. If he was still touching you, he’d be worried that your sparking brain might catch him on fire.

“What if it’s not a mistake? I mean, what if it’s a couples thing?” 

He couldn’t even classify these questions as rhetorical because he wasn’t meant to hear them in the first place. Though you asked out loud, each one of them was for your ears only. From his half of the couch — miles away — his frown deepened, unbeknownst to you.

“You know, Seonmi follows me on Instagram; she’d know that Kai and I broke up a few months ago. Maybe she doesn’t want me to feel awkward? Even if I went, and I didn’t feel weird about that, her expecting it to be weird might make it weird, right?”

Fuck.

You’d spiral all day if Seokmin didn’t stop you. As much as he loves how thoughtful you are, he knows better than most that you have a tendency to take it too far, inflicting that relentless consideration on yourself until it wounds. 

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario. 

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

Begrudgingly, you’d conceded, just like Seokmin hoped you would. You sat with him while he figured out travel plans to the mountain resort, helped him visualize what the hell he needed to wear to an event like this; and when the time came, you sent him half the cost for the room he booked, even though he repeatedly insisted that you didn’t need to chip in.

Now, that unsolicited sum sits untouched in his Venmo balance. You sit next to him on the night train out of town.

Sit, he thinks, is a bit of an understatement. You’re barely upright, so exhausted from your work day that his shoulder and side are bearing most of your weight. His arm went from tingling to numb an hour ago, but Seokmin doesn’t mind. There isn’t a burden he wouldn’t carry for you, up to and including you yourself.

Besides, he’s not worse off for being left to his own devices. In fact, he keeps himself thoroughly entertained by taking selfies of the pair of you. The aftermath will stay securely in his camera roll — largely because you’d kill him if you saw how squishy your face is, pressed against his coat, or how your little pout trembles slightly, almost as if you’re trying to talk through your sleep — but he still finds it worth the risk. This mochi-cheeked version of you is one of his favorites.

When Seokmin has amassed enough silly photos to comprise a dossier, he tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied smile. You’re still out cold, so you don’t stir at his subtle movements or the sound of the concession trolley rattling your way down the aisle.

The girl manning said trolley is significantly outweighed by the thing itself. She hardly looks old enough to have graduated high school, he figures, and he can’t imagine how it is that she’s working at this hour — or how she got stuck doing this job, when it takes all she’s got to maneuver the giant metal contraption through all the train cars.

“Anything, sir?” She asks politely, albeit slightly out-of-breath. 

Even though she’s speaking to him, her gaze is directed squarely at his hat, leading him to believe that she may also be too shy for her job. Nonetheless, it’s been two entire hours since his dinner, and he’s on the brink of starving to death, so he coughs up a few bills in exchange for several different snacks. 

She could do him the kindness of assuming his massive pile of food is for sharing, but she doesn’t. She gestures to you and whispers, “Anything for your —?”

Seokmin intercepts the question, knowing exactly where it’s headed: in the same direction as the million others like it that he’s heard over the years. 

“— parole officer?” He supplies with a smile, “No, this nap is fueled by a lot of crab rangoon. She’ll be out for the duration, I fear.”

Both halves of his response seem to stun her, which means he has to cover his inevitable laugh with a fake cough. 

This bit of yours will truly never get old, although the implications that prompt it did a long time ago. It was a stroke of genius on your part, dodging inaccurate references to your relationship status by offering up something too absurd to converse around.

“You two make such a cute couple,” an Uber driver once told you.

“He’s not in a relationship,” you’d politely corrected him. “He’s in witness protection. I’m duty-bound to keep him and his identity safe.”

The silence turns awkward, so Seokmin thanks the girl and gives her a smile he hopes says, “you’re allowed to run away from me now; I won’t take it personally.” She bows her head a little too eagerly, then skitters off with a grimace, like she pulled something in her neck.

Alone again with you, he wiggles gently upright in his seat so that you can rest more comfortably against his pectoral, rather than his shoulder bone. Even though you’re still asleep, Seokmin swears he hears a quiet mmpfh, as if you’re expressing gratitude. He bites his lips to keep from smiling, knowing that smiling in your proximity is one step away from laughter: the only thing you’ve never been able to sleep through.

Instead of giving into the urge, he murmurs, “You should get paid royalties whenever we use that joke. Being as smart as you are should pay off.”

Now, he knows he’s not simply hearing things because you’re just barely loud enough to overcome your own mumbling. 

“Agreed,” you sigh on an exhale before slipping to sleep off again.

“Well?” 

There are two beats between his first question and his next: the unfilled gap you’ve left in the conversation and the cab’s trunk shutting firmly. “‘s that cool with you?”

Seokmin stares at you, staring at him. His expression is soft, like your lack of responsiveness is something to be fond of, rather than annoyed by. It’s unexpectant, too, leaving the door wide open.

You blink. “Sorry — I — What did you say?” 

Hitting him when he least expects it, you shift your suitcase from your dominant hand so you can gesture properly to the bright, poorly crocheted bucket hat flopping over his forehead. “It’s a bit hard to hear you. That hat is so loud.”

His quizzically raised eyebrows drop in an instant. Likewise, that airy smile of his flattens into a straight line. 

Bullseye.

“Is it me that you hate?” He asks, tone dead serious as he points his finger towards his own chest. “Or is it the very concept of whimsy?”

You’re too busy biting back a grin to protest when, without being asked, Seokmin reaches out and takes the handle of your suitcase into his own hand, as well as the garment bag you’d draped over your arm. Before turning away to abscond with both sets of luggage in addition to his own, he shoots you an incredulous look. It dissolves entirely before his face even disappears from view. 

“This is an objectively delightful hat,” he mutters, nonetheless, in furtherance of the bit.

He spots a member of hotel staff standing on the sidewalk directly outside the hotel’s double doors and pleads his case to them. “She made me this hat, you know,” he announces, gesturing back to you with a nod.

The valet’s uniform hat casts a shadow under the lamplight, but it doesn’t do enough to hide the expression on their face. It is abundantly clear — even in the dark — that they didn’t hear a single word Seokmin said before he offered up that bit of trivia, seemingly apropos of nothing. They muster up a customer-service smile that doesn’t reach their eyes and tell him it’s a wonderful hat. Meanwhile, you roll your eyes from behind because nothing either of them just said is true.

That hat is the byproduct of delusions of grandeur and innumerable skeins of color-conflicting yarn. You made it for yourself, believing that you were the kind of cute and kitschy person who could pull it off; and inconsolable weeping Christ, were you wrong. It was — no, is — your greatest fiber arts failure.

Frankenstein’s floral monster would be in a secondhand shop somewhere if you’d had any say in the matter. It isn’t because you didn’t. Seokmin “rescued” it from the “to donate” pile on your bedroom floor. Since then, he’s worn it at every — public — opportunity, season be damned.

Admittedly, he’s exactly the kind of cute and kitschy person who can pull it off, but you’ve decided out of sheer pettiness to keep that appraisal to yourself.

You take your time catching up to him, both because his long legs make it hard to keep pace; and because the room is reserved under his name. After all, he’s the welcomed guest, not the reluctant party-crasher. The receptionist is already handing him a white keycard when you finally reach the desk. Seokmin holds it up between his index and middle fingers, closed-eye grin sparkling in a matching shade of ivory.

Though the journey up to your shared room is long, the real trip is being confined to an elevator with mirrors for walls. 

No matter how hard you try to avert your eyes, you manage to keep finding some new, horrible angle of your stale, post-train state. It’s torture. Three versions of you stare back with deep, dark undereye circles; and all you can think about is how dull your complexion is — especially in comparison to Seokmin, who may as well be bioluminescent with the way he glows from the inside out.

It’s joy, you know, his primary state of being and something he radiates like no other. He’s happy to be here, happy that you’re here, and happy to be happy. Whether or not he means it to be, it’s infectious. Now, you feel yourself starting to smile, too.

Despite your quiet observation, you must have missed him looking at you. Seemingly out of nowhere, he carefully sets down your belongings, raises his now-empty hand, and cups the right side of your jaw. Unaware that you’ve frozen solid, he swipes his thumb carefully over your cheek, tilting his own head to the side and frowning.

“I got you bad, huh?”

You blink.

“The zipper on my coat,” he explains, laughing. “Looks like it took a bite out of you when you used me as a pillow on the train.”

For reasons you can’t possibly explain, the only word to roll off your tongue is a sheepish, “Sorry.”

For a second, Seokmin is just as confused as you are about whether you’re needlessly apologizing to him or his coat. He chuckles quietly at how easily distracted you both are, then he gets back to the point: “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

Your response comes unnaturally quick. Your pulse does, too, when you finally make eye contact with him. After clearing your throat, you give him a half-hearted smile, ignoring whatever medical event you seem to be experiencing. “I didn’t know it was there until now.”

He hums in acknowledgment, then rescinds his hand. You watch in silence while he re-encumbers himself with your luggage and turns back to face the elevator doors, which open almost immediately.

Seokmin steps out easily, like the weight of your respective burdens doesn’t mean a thing. “I’d say this way, please, but I’ve already forgotten the room number,” he admits with a sheepish laugh. “The keycard’s in my pocket.”

You take his cue and reach into the front, right pocket of his coat for the keycard. As soon as you see the room number, you snort.

“You booked room number 218 because that’s your birthday, and then… what? You forgot your own birthday?” 

“I’m deeply flawed.” He sighs, put-upon. “Now, let’s go, Bambi. It feels like you packed a week’s worth of bricks.”

There’s no time to point out that you never asked him to carry your suitcase or bag for you in the first place. Likewise, there’s no opportunity to ask exactly how many bricks is a week’s worth. He’s on the move again before you can blink, energy evident in each step despite how late it is.

Once again, you follow Seokmin’s lead. Despite the signage, which is clearly visible on the wall, he walks confidently in the wrong direction, prompting you to grab him gently by the elbow and steer him the opposite way. His smile doesn’t falter; he plays it off as if he was just testing how closely you’re paying attention. 

It takes several turns down several additional hallways before the pair of you reach your target. When you come to room 218, you tap the keycard against the reader, causing the lock to click open. You turn the handle, push the door open into the room, and step awkwardly out of the way so your personal bellhop can get by.

“This is what I was trying to tell you when you so viciously insulted my favorite accessory.” Seokmin nods his head towards the center of the room. “All of the rooms Seonmi included in the reservation block have a king-sized bed — singular. The rooms outside the block are criminally overpriced for ski season.”

It’s far from the first time you’ve doubled up, so you shrug. “Just like old times, right? Like, when you thought your house was haunted, and you forced your way into the top bunk with me?”

“First of all,” he says as he sets both of your suitcases down and places one hand on his hip, the other pointing at you. “We were six.”

After locking the door behind you, you toe off your shoes, smirking at him from over your shoulder. “What’s your second point?”

“It was haunted —” He insists. Then his stern expression melts into something smug, the way it always does when he’s about to blatantly rewrite history. “— and you asked me to come up there because you were scared.”

A laugh slips out of you automatically, but you selflessly decide to let him have this. Crossing to him, you pat him on the bicep, patronizingly simpering all the while, “You are the brave one.”

Even though you’re both cowards, and he knows it, he pockets this little victory with a pleased hum and a grin.

Turning away from him, you make a beeline for the closet area near the door. There, you shuck off your coat and hang it up, out of the way. While you do, Seokmin passes you both your garment bag and his. From there, the pair of you work in efficient silence: you, pulling your respective formal wear from their bags and smoothing out any wrinkles; him, tucking away your extensive collection of toiletries in the bathroom.

When everything is in its place, you turn back around and notice for the first time how beautiful the room actually is. Though the shades of the floor-to-ceiling windows are almost completely drawn, the snow-covered mountains are at least partially visible through the gap in fabric. If you had the time, you’d spend all day tomorrow sitting on the forest green, velvet chaise directly in front of the window, staring at frosty peaks so massive, they feel close enough to touch.

To your right, an electric fireplace heats the room, while a portrait-framed television hovers on the wall above the mantle, flipping through famous artworks as a screensaver. In between flashes of Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms and Klimt’s The Kiss, you catch a glimpse of Seokmin’s smile reflecting on the black screen.

Awestruck, you turn to him and sigh, “Don’t let me get used to this.”

He jerks his thumb to his right, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Don’t judge me if I steal one of the bathrobes. They’re probably more expensive than half the shit in my apartment.”

“I won’t, but they’ll bill you for it when they figure it out,” you warn him. “On that note, do you need to shower or anything before I start my skincare side quest?”

Seokmin shakes his head, causing the crocheted abomination to flop. “All yours. My hair’ll get weird if I don’t deal with it tomorrow before we head out.”

And with that mental image of his insurmountable cowlick, you quickly grab your pajamas and shuffle off towards the bathroom. The first few seconds after you close the door are spent gawking at the insanely intricate, geometric tile pattern in the walk-in shower. 

Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken to lay each one of them, you set to work on your own tedious task: your ten-step regimen of cleansers, toners, serums, and moisturizers. Seokmin says otherwise, but you don’t think any of them truly make a difference. As stupid as you know it is, the routine itself is therapeutic, even if your skin is no less bouncy and glowy than it was before.

When it’s all said and done, you emerge from the bathroom to find your best friend stretched out on the half of the bed nearest the door with his eyes fixed on his phone screen. It’s the side of the room he always chooses, claiming that it’s to protect you from any intruders, but you know the truth: he’s too much of a freeze baby to sleep near the window, and he knows you like it cold.

“Feeling refreshed?” He mumbles to the best of his ability; his sweatshirt hood is pulled up and drawn so tightly that it squishes his cheeks and chin, restricting his movement.

Chuckling quietly as you go, you pad over to your half of the bed and slip under the comforter. Like a moth to a flame, the other occupant sends his last text, tosses his phone to the side, and scoots closer to you, eager to siphon whatever extra body heat he can. His head winds up on your shoulder, while your cheek rests against the top of his head.

“Before you tell me that I look it, I’d encourage you to stare long into the abyss that is my under-eye circles.”

When he laughs, it’s merely a puff of air from his nose. “You never look as tired as you feel,” he says distractedly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Pretty miraculous, given how little sleep you get.”

That comment warms you up so thoroughly, you wonder if he can feel it. Then, you wonder if that was the point. You intend to tease him for that, but then it dawns on you how fidgety he’s being; it’s rare for him.

“You okay, Thumper?”

It feels silly, using that nickname after so long. Your clumsiness stuck around for the ride, continuing Bambi into perpetuity; but he grew out of his companion name when he hit puberty, and his giant feet were suddenly proportional to the rest of him. 

He’s certainly no bunny, nor is he a child, but the low ebb of anxiety rolling off of him reminds you of the scared little neighbor boy you used to know. It fits, even if it is silly.

At first, Seokmin begins his explanation without peeling his gaze off his restless fingers. “Apparently, Seungcheol and Mingyu are in town.”  Then, his eyes slowly lift up to find you peering down at him. “They want to meet up to go snowboarding before we leave.”

Ah.

There it is: the top-secret look in his eye that only you can decipher. The one he’s been practicing for years, at your insistence, for moments like this, when he needs to be talked into something. When he needs to be brave and avoid missing out on something he’d love, solely because it freaks him out.

You respond the same way you always have; the way you once pinky-promised you always would: “I triple-dog dare you.”

He sighs deeply, neither fully resigned nor relieved, but then he nods. His head knocks slightly against your shoulder as he does. “I’ll do it.”

And that’s that; it’s settled.

Or so you think.

A beat passes in silence, until Seokmin suddenly pipes up again, “But you’re going to have to hold my hand on the chair lift, or I’ll pass out and fall to my death.”

“Deal.” 

You grab his hand now in consideration of your promise and scratch affectionately at his palm. Surprisingly, his thoughts haven’t made him clammy; his skin is even softer than usual, likely due to the expensive hotel lotion he’s undoubtedly now harboring in his suitcase. Tongue firmly in cheek, you look at him sideways. 

“Just — leave the hat in your suitcase, okay? The snow will be blinding enough.”

Seokmin’s been dressed and ready for at least thirty minutes, but you’re still standing exactly where you have been for the last forty-five. Face pinched, you turn this way and that in front of the mirror, smoothing fabric that’s already wrinkle-free, apparently for the hell of it.

“I’m oh-for-three.” Your exasperated sigh is punctuated by your bare, right foot stomping on the carpet. It doesn’t make the impact you likely hope it will, at least sonically; it does, however, speak volumes about how close to the ledge you are.

“All of them looked good,” he says earnestly. “I think this one is my favorite, though, if that means anything.”

Apparently, this is the wrong answer. Your wild-eyed gaze lifts from your own reflection until you’re staring him dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Why did I even pack this?” You ask, “Do you see this?”

Suddenly, you lift a manicured hand to point at your neckline, from which he’d admittedly been averting his eyes. “This is too much cleavage for a family function, isn’t it?”

As quickly as you glanced at him in the first place, you go right back to fussing with your dress, thankfully missing the way he swallows thickly.

Fuck, now he’s staring — but you’re the one that made him look in the first place — and he can feel heat rising to ears, a dead giveaway. His sudden silence does enough to communicate his struggle; he has no idea how to respond without vaulting over the boundaries of your friendship.

Is it hot in here?

Deciding to rely on his usual tactic, he jokes his way out.

“If you think I’ll ever side against tiddie…” He forces a grimace, shaking his head gravely. “Then you really don’t know me at all.”

You laugh loudly, and whatever one-sided tension filled the room snaps like a twig. Better still, the smile you give him stays on your face while you reassess your dress; and Seokmin takes it as a personal victory that you commit to his choice, rather than cycle back through your options for the second time. 

While this means that you’ll both be able to hit the open bar sooner rather than later, the biggest upside is that he no longer has to keep excusing himself to the bathroom so you can change again, and again, and again.

You finish up quickly, tossing on jewelry, and then turn to him. His shoulder keeps you steady while you slip into your devilishly high heels. Seokmin pays them little mind now, however; his attention is drawn to the accessories you’ve chosen. Sure, they match perfectly with the rest of your outfit, but that’s not what strikes him. It’s the fact that everything you’ve picked was gifted to you by his parents at one point or another.

Unable to stop himself, he reaches out and gently taps on one of your dangling earrings. “Eighteenth birthday,” he muses to himself. 

Then, both his gaze and his hand lower to your necklace. He skims his fingertip along the delicate, gold chain, inadvertently making you freeze up. “Christmas 2019?”

You shake your head slightly, though it barely counts as movement.

“Ah,” Seokmin corrects himself. “2020.”

Sensing that he’s somehow made you uncomfortable, he reels himself back in and clears his throat. “Shall we?” He asks, furnishing you with a bent arm to loop yours through.

You take his cue, link your arm to his, and sigh, “I suppose we shall.”

The walk to the elevator is quiet, in that neither one of you says a thing. Seokmin can hear the gears in your head turning, though, without any conversation to drown them out. 

You step inside that glorified, mirrored box; and for a few minutes, he lets you work through the thing he knows ruined your sleep last night. That is, until he hears your breathing come a little quicker than usual.

“Hey.” 

It was supposed to be a jumping off point. He was going to go from there and reiterate that you belong here with him. The plan was to reassure you for as long as it takes to get you to believe it, but you look up at him almost helplessly, and his Etch-a-Sketch brain is wiped clean in an instant.

The very best he can do is smile and offer a single word: “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes twinkling. 

Your plagued frown curves slightly back in the right direction; the creeping shroud of doom lightens, if only a little bit.

“That’ll do, pig.” You swat his arm, but he says it again, emphatically, “That’ll do.”

Halfway through you scolding him for quoting Babe at a time like this, the elevator door reopens, reading to regurgitate the pair of you out onto the ballroom level. 

Unlike the lobby, which sits only one floor below, this floor looks like it was ripped straight from the pages of a fantasy novel. Everywhere he turns, there’s something new — and vaguely elven — look at. Fairy lights hang in perfectly spaced arches from the lofted ceiling, delicately illuminating the exposed, wooden beams above. The chandeliers — plural — are crafted out of antlers of some kind, cutting between rugged and highly refined.

As stunning as it all is, Seokmin’s mind snags on a single conclusion. You’re the one who voices it, though, much to his surprise.

“This is the most Seonmi thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whisper to him, all without taking your eyes off the extravagance in front of you. “Is this a dress rehearsal for her wedding next year?”

He bites down on his lips hard to keep his laughter to himself. Of course, you’re dead on. Nothing about this space feels like his parents, who are supposed to be the sole focus of this entire event. He already found it odd that they agreed to such a big to-do in the first place — especially when it would require their loved ones to go out of their way, literally and financially — but this is….

“Am I being petty, or is this kind of… selfish?”

Petty, no. 

Psychic? Probably.

“You’re right, and you should say it.” Seokmin nods and withdraws his arm from yours so that he can drape it properly around your shoulder. “This way to the beer, please. We’ll need it.”

Merely four steps in the direction to the bar, and a screech rings out from somewhere neither of you can locate. In fact, Seokmin’s head is turned the opposite way when someone launches themself at you, damn near ripping you from his hold.

“Oh, my god! I knew you’d come!”

Soyeon’s relief in seeing you is palpable. Seokmin can practically feel his bones being crushed as she hugs you tight, swaying from side to side. He catches a glimpse of your expression, which barely peeks through the curtain of his oldest sister’s hair; you’re far happier now than you were in the elevator.

His sister kisses the side of your head. “I missed you so fucking much. I love my residency program, but I hate how far away it keeps me.”

A solid minute passes by like this. When it starts to get unbearable, Seokmin clears his throat, hoping to remind his sister that she hasn’t seen him in months, either; and he’s also standing right here.

Instead of greeting him, Soyeon shoots you a wry smile. “Who is he today? A fugitive you’re harboring?”

In tandem, the two of you appraise him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. See, this he didn’t miss: being both of his sisters’ least favorite younger sibling.

“Oh, no, though I can see why you think that.” You shake your head, then reach out to pat his shoulder patronizingly. “If anyone asks, this is a foreign diplomat, and I’m the interpreter he can’t understand a word without. Best not say hi to him; he won’t know what you’re saying.”

Soyeon nods, though Seokmin wonders if she truly  gets what you’re trying to achieve. Not quite, he realizes a moment later. Instead, she covers his chin with her hand so she can squeeze both his cheeks at once.

“He’s adorable,” she coos. “Doesn’t look old enough or mature enough for diplomacy, though.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be doctors, can we?”

Again, in tandem, all eyes on him widen with feigned shock. Between overlapping gasps of “he does understand!” and “someone’s been studying!”, he shakes off his sister’s touch and scowls.

“If you’re going to keep bullying me, can you at least do it at the bar? That way, I can numb my suffering with booze.”

At this, Soyeon drops the charade and pulls him into a hug like a vice grip. She holds him so tightly that his vision starts to get spotty. It’s not until he gently pats her back, begging for air, that she lets him go.

“I missed you too, Thumper,” she swears, prompting you to snicker.

Now, he’s annoyed for a completely different reason — one that makes even less sense to him. That nickname hasn’t bothered him in the last decade, so it shouldn’t now. Then again, the only person who’s called him Thumper since middle school is you.

The rules are different for you, if they exist at all.

“And I promise to catch up with you later, but I’ve got five thousand questions for Bambi, and the answers aren’t half as juicy with you around.”

Just like that, his plus-one is subtracted.

As much as you love Soyeon, she’s no Seokmin. With him, talking is easy; he never rushes to fill silences, doesn’t steer the conversation with a white-knuckled grip. 

On the contrary, his oldest sister comes forward with a pickaxe, smashing through small talk while she mines for the wild stories she thinks she’s missed out on since moving away.

You don’t blame her, really. If you spent all your hours in a hospital, only sleeping in the lulls between other people’s trauma, you’d probably become just as intense — the human equivalent of a cracked-open fire hydrant — in the search for closeness, too.

In the thirty minutes you sit with her, you brief her on all the cliffhangers you’d left her with the last time you saw her.

Yes, you’re still stuck with your lease in the same apartment; and the old lady next door still regularly sets off the building’s fire alarm by accident.

No, you decided not to stay with Kai and haven’t spoken since the breakup; he needed more of your time and energy than you wanted to sacrifice for him.

No, Seokmin still hasn’t gone out with anyone that you know of in months. In fact, it’s been so long since either of you have touched on this topic, especially compared to how little time he and the last girl were together, that you can’t even remember her name. 

Beyond that first, limited fact, you keep your mouth shut about the rest. It’s not your business to share; and it wouldn’t kill her to ask Seokmin about himself for once.

The longer you spend with her, the more frustrated you find yourself getting, although you keep this fact to yourself, too. Soyeon and Seonmi have both spent their lives fussing about Seokmin, talking about him like he’s some helpless baby, without doing much to get to know him.

That’s it.

If you were at all confident that Soyeon would take the initiative, you’d let her find all of this out on her own. She won’t, you know, but maybe it’ll sink in if she hears it from you.

“Seokmin’s doing really well, now that you mention it,” you offer, though she barely mentioned him in the first place. “He got promoted last month; he’s now lead architect on that massive commercial lot downtown. Apparently, it’s still a secret, whatever it is they’re putting there. Must be something special.”

Seokmin is something special, you all but yell inside your head.

Soyeon’s eyes brighten. 

Nobody loves secrets quite like she does. You wait for the barrage, anticipating all the questions to which you’ll have to respond with “seriously, I don’t know,” but they don’t come.

Instead, she puts her drink back on its coaster, reaches out, and squeezes your wrist with her slightly chilled hand. “I’m grateful that he’s always had you, Bambi. If he didn’t, I don’t know if he’d lean in to opportunities like that.”

The look on her face tells you she means it. Maybe that’s what makes your stomach sour: that she can sit there, hearing of Seokmin’s accomplishments, and still find a way not to credit him for them.

Anger ignites inside of you. The flames lick up your esophagus, ready to explode, and you suck in a breath with every intention of letting her burn.

But then an arm slinks around your waist. Seokmin’s head bumps slightly against yours until you’re cheek to cheek.

“I hope I’m interrupting something.”

For a second, you think his slight tipsiness caused him to misspeak. Tilting your head to the side the best you can, you look at him out of the corner of your eye and catch his very subtle wink.

Soyeon opens her mouth, but Seokmin makes his wish a reality.

“Sorry, sis,” Seokmin says, entirely unapologetically. “I just found out that the band takes requests; and I’ll be goddamned if Bambi and I don’t show you clowns the meaning of dance.”

It takes no encouragement whatsoever for you to slip off your stool, get to your feet, and inch your way closer to his side. Then, like a starting gun was fired, the two of you bolt clumsily away from the bar, with you shouting “sorry!” over your shoulder as you go.

Your heels skid against the dance floor when you finally reach it, but Seokmin steadies you before you can eat shit in front of god and everyone.

“You’re way too expressive, you know that?” The fact that he’s out-of-breath doesn’t keep him from laughing. “I could’ve seen that grumpy turtle face of yours from space.”

Unintentionally, you prove his point, drawing your eyebrows together and frowning. “I do not —”

“— Also, I lied,” he interrupts yet again.

This, coupled with the everything else going on, leaves you too stunned to speak.

“This band is all trot, all the time. They don’t take requests — trust me, I tried — but if you stay here with me long enough, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Seokmin doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows it’s a yes. He doesn’t wait for you to assume your position, either, and instead holds your left hand in his right before placing your right on his left shoulder. This close, you feel the urge to tell him how handsome he looks with his hair parted off his forehead. You don’t, however.

The music swells behind you. Seokmin leads, and you follow, swaying slowly and moving across the floor.

“Two birds?” You remember to ask, one eyebrow arched.

His right arm lifts. “Spin,” he whispers. You step under his arm, then twirl. While you’re facing the opposite direction, he continues, “There. Do you see it?”

“Oh, my god.”

You do.

The bar stool you were just occupying is now filled by Seokmin’s great-uncle, Hajoon, while his new and much younger girlfriend, Yunhee, hovers near his shoulder. Even from this distance, you can see the look of abject distress on Soyeon’s face, totally unhidden by her attempt to seem engaged.

You return to your position in front of Seokmin, your hand accidentally landing on his bicep, rather than his shoulder. Flustered by the deceptive bulk there, you immediately scoot your palm back to where it belongs.

He leans in so that only you can hear him. It doesn’t feel necessary at all, given how loud the band’s horn section is, but you don’t recoil this time. 

“They had me trapped over by the appetizers,” he explains, low voice making you shiver involuntarily. “Every time he started a story with when I was your age, I wanted to point out that Yunhee hadn’t been born yet.”

You can’t help the laugh that erupts out of you and therefore can’t pull your head away from Seokmin’s ear in time to save him. Instead of wincing or complaining, he looks at you and breaks into laughter of his own as soon as your eyes meet. The effect doubles, and before you know it, both of you are teary-eyed.

“How the hell did you get away from him?”

It’s a feat you've never once managed. Uncle Hajoon’s inability to read a room is equal parts due to his horrible hearing and his tendency to never stop talking. Even if he did leave space in the conversation for you to excuse yourself, you’d never successfully get the message across.

Seokmin lifts his arm again but not for you. He takes his leave to spin himself, simpering as he goes, “That’s where Yunhee came in handy, actually. I didn’t know she had it in her, but she’s not as much of a dud as we initially thought.”

“Oh?”

“She told him that I should be able to dance with my girlfriend, and he shouldn’t keep me any longer.” He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like the time to correct her.”

All the heat in your body goes straight to your cheeks. Nonetheless, you attribute it to the dancing and choke out, “No royalties for me, then.”

“Not this time.” Seokmin shakes his head. “I said that Soyeon was trying to catch up with everyone and would love to hear his stories.”

You bite back a grin. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Maybe.” He smiles with every single one of his teeth. “But you’re free.”

“Surprisingly so. I haven’t felt the Eye of Sauron on me at all yet.” Just in case your statement serves as a jinx, you glance around the room for Seonmi. The tension you’ve been keeping in each one of your muscles slackens when, once again, your radar is blip-free.

“Dinner was supposed to start ten minutes ago. If I had to guess, she’s either leaving a scathing Yelp review or personally waterboarding the chef as we speak.”

“Both at the same time,” you counter, earning a wry smile. “She inherited your mom’s self-assuredness. If she believes she can, she will.”

After the pair of you dance through two more songs, the band breaks, and the hotel’s battalion of waiters come in, bearing domed, silver trays. Seokmin takes off in a hurry for your assigned table in the far corner of the ballroom, so famished that he barely remembers to tug you along behind him.

Through the meal and all its complimentary wine pairings, you do your best to focus on the conversation. Seokmin introduced you to the few people sitting with you that you haven’t had the occasion to meet yet. While he does what comes naturally to him, charming them with ease, you struggle for the first time to pay attention to him.

A few tables over, Seonmi sits down with her fiancé, joining the company of her parents; Soyeon and her date are there, too, leaving Seokmin out by design. Like an insane person, you can only watch her, rather than Seokmin’s blatant theft of bites from your plate. She laughs at whatever jokes her mother cracks, but you’d recognize that look of veiled angst anywhere. She isn’t happy, you realize. You can’t avoid the feeling that you’re the reason why she isn’t.

Time passes, somehow too quickly and too slowly. The plates are emptied, then cleared away by the wait staff — except for your half-empty glass, which is your third. Much like the other guests at your table, the joyful buzz you’d been feeling so far leaves, too.

All that’s left is you, Seokmin, and that ominous, storm cloud you can’t seem to shake.

“You’ll probably feel better if you talk to her.”

He’s always more observant than you give him credit for. You snap out of your zoned-out stare across the room in order to look at him. You frown. “I doubt it. She already looks pissed. Me parading my presence here despite her isn’t going to help anything.”

“Bambi,” Seokmin sighs, not impatient but gentle. “She’s not exactly warm, but she has always liked you. There’s literally no reason why she wouldn’t be happy to see you —”

You open your mouth to argue.

“— that happened over twenty years ago, and you really need to stop feeling guilty about it —”

You close your mouth, cross your arms self-consciously, and sink in your seat. Despite yourself, you glance over at him and catch the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t need to say the words out loud for you to hear them.

It’s either the unspoken dare, his reassuring, soft-eyed smile, or all the blasted merlot that does you in. You’re not sure which of the three was the coup de grâce, and as you slink off towards her table, you realize it doesn’t matter. For one reason or another, you’ve decided that fear isn’t going to get the better of you this time.

Seonmi somehow senses you coming. Even without the band underscoring your movement, your timid steps across the mahogany parquet should’ve been impossible for anyone to pick up on. 

Must be an older sister thing, you think, being doomed to keep a perpetual eye on others. 

She doesn’t say anything when you slip into the chair next to her, which doesn’t bode well but isn’t a deal breaker, in and of itself. The important thing is that she doesn’t get up to leave. You tell yourself that this is a good sign. The knot in your stomach begs to differ, however.

Say something.

Say anything.

“Everything’s… lovely, Seonmi, seriously.” You gesture around you, smiling, but she only gives you a cursory look. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this one.”

Seonmi takes a sip of her cocktail — something bitter, the petty voice in your head assumes — and lets the corner of her mouth rise slightly. If it’s the closest thing you’ll get to a smile, you’ll take it. She hasn’t granted you a proper one in the decades since you got gum in her favorite Barbie’s hair.

“Thanks, kid,” she sighs, setting the drink back down on her personalized, cardboard coaster.

You can’t remember the last time she called you “Bambi”, let alone your real name. Just like Seokmin, you’ve always been a child to her. Apparently, you always will be, no matter what you do.

Her grip around the glass remains rigid, not unlike her overall posture. Condensation weeps under and around her manicured fingers, uninhibited. You watch those droplets soak through the coaster’s design, darkening her parents’ initials and wedding date, while you mull over whose turn it is to talk.

Ultimately, as is usually the case, Seonmi makes this decision for you. Without so much as a glance at you out of the corner of her eye, she muses, “It was a lot of work, getting all the details ironed out.”

She doesn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear it. One of those details would’ve been the guest list; another, the invitations. Seokmin assumed it was all an accident and said as much to you no fewer than a hundred times, but this little comment from his sister blows his assurances to smithereens. 

Your exclusion wasn’t an accident at all.

Suddenly, somehow, the room is twenty degrees colder. You shoot a panicked glance over to where Seokmin was just sitting, wanting nothing more than to slink back to his warmth with your tail between your legs; but he’s not where you left him. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found.

Fuck.

“Ah,” is the best you can do.

And then the two of you sit awkwardly in silence while the seconds age in dog years.

You should’ve brought a drink over with you so you’d have something to do with your hands. Or your phone — except you left it on its charger, you idiot — or a time machine, so you can revoke your bullshit decision to walk over here in the first —

“He deserves that, don’t you think?”

The combined suddenness of her voice and the switch in topics makes you jolt ever so slightly. You try to pass it off, to pretend that you’re simply adjusting the skirt of your dress, but your efforts go unnoticed. Seonmi is too busy pointing casually ahead, drawing your focus to the center of the dance floor.

Like absolutely no one else is watching, Mr. Lee twirls around his laughing wife, his heart-shaped smile beaming so brightly that it almost hurts your eyes. The love of his life has to hold one of her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from bursting out; the other hand is raised with the rest of that arm, allowing her husband to spin himself underneath. When he’s halfway through, she surprises him, drops her arm down, and embraces him fully, giggling all the while.

It almost makes you tear up — Mr. Lee’s unabashed, silly love, and how much it reminds you of his spitting-image of a son; the way Seokmin’s mother’s eyes sparkle in the same blissful, radiant way his do. Maybe the same can’t be said for his older sisters, but it’s abundantly clear where Seokmin came from. It’s even clearer where he should end up.

“Yes,” you breathe, and it almost sounds like a laugh because of course, he does. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Is that really a question?”

No, you realize too late, it’s bait.

Without batting an eye, she counters, “Is it really so hard for you to let him have that?”

Seonmi turns her head to look you dead in the eye. Confusingly, despite her words, there’s nothing in her tone or gaze that reads like malice. If anything, the slight furrow of her brow shouts concern.

Your mind is spinning too fast to keep up with. Whatever her next move is, you’re too dizzy now to see it coming and too disoriented to follow it. With the knot in your stomach tightening further, you stammer, “Is — what?”

“God,” Seonmi drops her face into her hands. “You don’t get it, do you?”

A fish on dry land, all you seem to know how to do is open and close your mouth. You may not be literally flailing, but with the state your mind is in, you may as well start.

“Seokmin loves love.” 

She says each of these words slowly, like she’s trying to hammer each nail through a thick skull. 

“It’s the one thing he’s wanted most since he was a kid, yet I can count on one hand the number of short-term relationships he’s been in. He doesn’t ever bring anyone home to meet us; he doesn’t bring anyone to weddings, or parties, or holidays; he just brings you.”

Of course, you’ve been right there through all of his situationships. He’s always scant on details when they end — and you’ve never pressed for any — but you know better than anyone that nothing has stuck long-term. 

You’ve never thought about how odd this really is, but with Seonmi spelling it out for you now, you can’t come up with a single, good reason why someone as objectively incredible as Seokmin can’t make these things work — or why, even as you rack your brain, the only constant you can find in his life is you.

She glares now, as if she’s daring you to speak; as if you’ve got anything she’d deem worth adding. The bulldozer revs up again, whether you’re ready or not: “You’ve always been the only person he saves space for, whether or not there’s a place for you, and he has no room left in his life for someone to love him like that —” 

Seonmi points again to her parents, who are circling slowly on the dance floor, talking softly to one another. 

“So, what is it? Do you truly not see what he’s missing, or are you choosing not to because you like his attention?”

Your eyes burn with tears, but you can’t let them fall, and you can’t wrap your head around why that is. 

Who are you hiding them from: Seonmi or yourself?

The longer she stares at you, the muddier it gets. You don’t want her to be right. You don’t want to be the kind of person she’s describing; but there’s something awful whispering in the back of your mind, saying that you might be. 

You’ve left every relationship you’ve been in, telling everyone who asks in the aftermath that you like being on your own better. But that’s bullshit. It’s not your own company that you keep when you’re single; it Seokmin’s. 

He makes sure that you never spend a day feeling alone, that he’s always available over the phone in the rare times he’s not physically with you. As his best friend, he treats you better than every single one of your exes ever has. Like you’re worth more than anyone else will credit you.

What kind of friend are you if you feel relieved whenever his relationships expire?

Seonmi’s hand drops, landing half-heartedly clenched on the tabletop. Just the same, her voice drops until it’s almost a whisper. 

“I am begging you,” she pleads, eyes narrowing desperately as they search yours. “If you don’t want him, someone else will. Please just —  get the hell out of their way.”

By the time you reach the elevator, all you’re left with is a blur. You’ve already forgotten how the conversation ended, or which one of you was the first to get up. If she said anything else to you, it was drowned out by your own hammering pulse and a looping chorus of voice validating your biggest fear, stating in no uncertain terms that you don’t belong.

You’re shaking when you reach your floor. Heels clicking under unsteady footsteps, you make for room 218; and as you go, you shove your hand into the well-concealed pocket of your dress for the keycard Seokmin forgot to grab himself on the way out earlier.

He’s certainly not in the room when you finally step inside, although you have no clue where he’s gone. It’s for the best. The door closes behind you, and with no one to see it happen, you burst into tears.

All rational thought flies out the window, shaken off by the tornado of utter confusion tearing through your brain. You grab your suitcase, needing nothing more than to be anywhere else, and begin haphazardly throwing your things back inside of it.

Why did you still come with him, knowing it wouldn’t end well? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told him no; he would’ve listened if you truly meant it.

If you didn’t mean it when you initially tried to squirrel your way out of this, why not? Was it just your friend asking sincerely that won you over without a fight; or was it because you knew, deep down, it’d hurt to see him bring someone else?

Why would it hurt?

The answer to that will crack the foundation of everything the two of you have built, but only if you admit it to yourself. It can’t threaten you if you don’t say it out loud, don’t make it real.

So, you won’t. 

You’ll bury it deeply enough to forget about, repour the concrete, and tiptoe through the rest of your life with your best friend still at your side.

That is, if your friendship survives the weekend — rather, your sudden departure from it — at all.

“Halmoni, it’s time to go back to your hotel, okay?” 

He coos this, as if he’s pleading with a toddler at bedtime, because that’s exactly what it feels like to wrangle the drunk, 80-year-old clinging to his arm.

Physically, she needs to hold onto Seokmin to keep herself steady. Mentally, she’s ready to run and has made several attempts to do just that when she thinks his guard is down. It’s no wonder the hotel staff cornered him and begged him for help; she’s too wily for those who don’t know her.

The manager had at least done him the courtesy of hailing a cab. It sits out front, warm and waiting, while he shepherds his grandmother through the lobby.

“— and another thing!” She slurs.

There is never not another thing. She shouldn’t bother concluding her sentences in the first place; she’s never done talking.

“I told your sister — I said, Sunny —”

Seonmi, he dares to presume, although he doesn’t dare to correct her.

“— you can’t have stuff like this —” She gestures animatedly, albeit vaguely around her. “— in places like this and expect retirees to pay for it! I said — oh, what did I say? — Ah, I said, ‘find me the cheapest motel in the area, or I’ll be staying in your room with you’ —”

Her kitten heels hit the brick outside with an angry thwump.

Seokmin can’t help himself. “She didn’t go for that?”

“No!” His grandmother squawks. 

The driver sees the ball of a woman wobbling his way and quickly exits the cab, skirts around it, and flings the back door open for her. 

“I can’t imagine why, halmoni,” he lies through his teeth, which shine down on her in his best, least sincere smile. “You’re a blast in a glass.”

She roars with laughter, even while two grown adults work together to pour her into the backseat without bumping her head on the doorframe. “Glast in a blass!”

“Exactly. Can you —?”

He gives up before he finishes voicing his request; it’s no use. Instead, he bends down to hug her and finagles the buckle of her seatbelt while she’s too distracted to fight him off. That click is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, after the clunk of the door shutting her in.

By the time Seokmin turns to the cab driver, his grandmother is fully slumped in her seat, pilled peacoat rising and falling with every wine-laced breath.

“I am so sorry.” He sighs, which devolves into a sheepish laugh, and fishes all of the cash out of his pocket. No tip could possibly cover the emotional toll of this ordeal, so he does his best and gives the driver everything he has.

The driver’s eyes widen. Seokmin gets the impression that he doesn’t quite understand the task he’s undertaking. 

Poor bastard.

Seokmin continues, “My grandfather is at the inn already; he didn’t feel well enough to come here, but he’ll be ready to get her inside once you drop her off.”

“Sounds easy enough.” The driver smiles and holds out his hand to shake. 

Seokmin reciprocates, and he declines to explain just how wrong that assessment is. He thanks the man and chirps a quick goodbye to his grandmother before rushing back inside.

Walking into the ballroom, he hopes to find you and Seonmi laughing about whatever misunderstanding had gotten in your way before. At the very least, he expects you to still be sitting next to each other at the same table. That would be good enough, he thinks; he could assist in repairing the situation from there.

The problem, it seems, is beyond his help. Neither one of you occupies the same table. If his quick scan tells him anything, you’re not even in the same room.

No matter which way he turns, he can’t spot you. His sister, on the other hand, is near the far corner, having what looks like a nightmarish conversation with their parents. There are approximately five billion things Seokmin would rather do than get in the middle of that, but you don’t have your phone on you, and he has no other way to find out where you went.

Above the heads of the two women, Seokmin’s father catches sight of his approach. They lock eyes; there’s something insane in his father’s gaze. The older man shakes his head, mouthing “no.”

Seokmin stops short, raises his hands with the palms up to get across his confusion, and mouths back, “Bambi?”

In response, his father extends a single finger and points upwards. He then makes a shooing motion with his hand. His wife and daughter are so engrossed in their argument that neither of them catches the pantomime or Seokmin’s quick exit, back the way he came.

On the elevator ride upstairs, Seokmin worries. The most likely explanation is that you went to find your phone so that you could find him – but you haven’t texted or called him in the time he’s been looking for you, so he supposes it isn’t likely after all. 

Maybe, he thinks, the wine caught up to you. You’re not as strong a drinker as you think you are. While he walks down the hallway to room 218, he steels himself. Even though you both hate it, he’s ready to hold your hair if he walks in and finds you with your head in the toilet. That dress looks too good on you not to be expensive; he’d rather talk you out of your embarrassment tomorrow than have you shell out for dry-cleaning.

You didn’t deadbolt the door behind you, which strikes him as odd. In fact, you didn’t even close it properly; it isn’t latched. All he has to do is tap on it for the door to open.

“Bambi?” He calls out before stepping inside entirely, thinking it’s only decent to confirm in advance that he’s not an intruder. “Sorry for disappearing. I had to pour my grandmother into a cab – it was exactly as awful as it sounds.”

The faint rustling sound he hears isn’t coming from the bathroom, which is both dark and unoccupied. Part of him wants to take this as a good sign, but the rest of him wonders if he’s walking in on a burglary. That flicker of fear is followed by a stupid sense of validation: 

You always laugh at him when he cites this as his reason for choosing the bed closest to the door; you claim it’s statistically unlikely. Finally being able to say “I told you so” after a robbery wouldn’t make either of your belongings magically reappear, of course. That said, it might make him feel a little better.

But the figure rooting through your suitcase isn’t a bandit at all. It’s you with your coat on.

“Um,” he starts, unintentionally startling you. “What is….” 

His question peters out when you look up at him. There are broken mascara tracks down your cheeks, as if you tried to wipe them off without actually looking at them. Above them, your wide eyes are wet, like you’re seconds away from crying all over again. Even worse, you’re trembling.

Seokmin’s only instinct is to reach for you. Before he can wrap his arms around you, you jerk away from him. “Please don’t.”

So, he stops, though he doesn’t understand why. This is quite literally the only time in your life that you’ve pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” Ideally, he’d project calm at a time like this. He just sounds desperate. “What happened with Seonmi?���

“She — um, she didn’t — It wasn’t that bad; I’m just… You know how sensitive I get when I drink wine.”

Like a switch flips, a half-hearted smile takes over the bottom half of your face. It’s not real; if it was, your eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners. Whatever that look is, it’s bullshit.

Seokmin gestures to your suitcase, where everything you brought with you has been unceremoniously shoved. “Sensitive enough to, what, run away? No. I’m not buying it. She said something — or did something — to make you this upset. Bambi, what happened?”

His urgency is selfish, he knows it. Seonmi’s always been way too intuitive for her own good. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking; how god-awful he is at acting platonic.

He tries — has been trying, for a long time now — to shake these feelings off because he knows you’re not emotionally available. Because he knows who he’s supposed to be for you, and how devastating it would be if he threw your friendship away.

That devastation is right in front of him now; and it’ll  push you out of his life forever if he doesn’t shut it down. He has to get in front of it.

You strike first, though. “Seokmin, why didn’t you bring anyone else?”

There are two ways for him to interpret that question: with the emphasis on anyone, meaning not you; or as an escape route. For your sake, he chooses the latter.

“She gave me a plus-one, not a plus-two,” he says softly.

Despite his tone, it must hit you like a punch. You nod curtly, once. “Got it. Basic math. Thanks, Seokmin; that was never my strongest subject.”

Foot, meet mouth.

You immediately set back to work, reaching for the lid of your suitcase to close and zip. Before he thinks once, let alone twice, his hand darts out and flattens against the mesh inner pocket on the top, preventing you from doing so.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Not happening.”

You don’t scowl at him the way he expects, nor do you even stop to look at him. It’s far worse than that; your eyes start swimming, focused helplessly on your suitcase. 

When you speak, your voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I knew that this invitation shit wasn’t an accident; I knew I wasn’t welcome to —”

“— You came anyway.” Seokmin doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the point is moot. Softening at the edges, he quickly continues, “And I’m glad that you did because I don’t want to be here with ‘anyone else’.”

It’s not the whole truth, so it may as well be a lie. You know him too well for him to get away with it; it was stupid of him to try. Your head turns, and the slight narrow of your eyes says it all.

I triple-dog dare you to tell me the truth.

This fork in the road has two dead ends. His only options are to do just that or double down and lie straight to your face, while you see straight through him. Either option pulls the pin, he figures, so it’s no longer a question of who gets hurt; it’s who gets hurt worse.

Seokmin jumps on the grenade.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else!”

It comes out too loudly, startling you. In a way, it’s angry, too. He wishes could project that anger onto Seonmi for starting shit, as usual, but the person he’s maddest at is himself for putting you both in this position.

For the first time ever, he can’t decipher the expression on your face. He’d shove his foot into his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, but his adrenaline is firing on all cylinders, and he can’t seem to stop shouting.

“And I’m really fucking sorry to say it because I know you don’t want to hear it, not from me or anyone else. So, you can leave, alright? I’m not going to stop you.”

The force of the surprise almost knocks the air out of him, so quick that Seokmin can’t process what’s happening until his back is flush to the wall behind him — until your hands, flat against his white button-up, curl to grip the fabric, and you kiss him so hard that he sees stars.

You’re surprised too, it seems. When you pull away, chest heaving, you freeze in the same way he does. Eyes searching the other’s, unsure of what to do now that twenty-plus years’ worth of boundaries have been blown to bits.

You whisper, “Are you still sorry?”

Of the five million feelings swelling inside of him — fear, kind of; joy, yes; fucked up by your blown-out pupils, definitely — regret isn’t one of them.

Actually…

He cups your face in his hands like water from a spring, drinks down the sight of you in this new and perfect light. “I’m only sorry that it took me this long to tell you,” he confesses before kissing you back twice as hard.

You’d ask Seokmin to pinch you and prove to you that you’re not dreaming, but the fear you feel at the thought of waking up is too overwhelming. 

Even if it wasn’t, he can’t help you, can he? 

His hands are far too busy.

Your pretty dress is long gone now, having been shucked off and tossed somewhere out of sight. In its place, it’s Seokmin’s body that now drapes over yours, warm in touch and tone, like molten gold. 

His middle and marriage fingers curl inside you, working you up again; and all you can do is cling desperately to his hair, whimper, and wait for the fall.

“I take back what I said earlier,” he murmurs between nips and kisses at your neck.

You can’t ask him to elaborate. You’re too close to careening over the edge for the second time tonight; too busy babbling fucking nonsense.

His simper against your throat reverberates all the way down, lights up your every nerve in tandem like a switchboard. “Only an idiot would tell you to be less expressive.”

The pad of his thumb swirls over your clit; its movement synchronizes with his middle finger inside of you, targeting your weak spot. He presses down on that spongy patch of nerves, and your hips buck involuntarily, a hallmark of your body begging for you while your words fail.

“You were right, though.” 

You summon all your concentration. “I’m always right,” you counter. Seokmin pulls his mouth away from the underside of his jaw just to look at you pointedly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

He picks up the pace of his ministrations, pulling no punches. You’re teetering on the ledge with no real ability to lift your own neck; your head crashes back against the pillow as you wail, clenching and gushing around his fingers.

“I do know how sensitive you get,” he snickers before slipping his fingers from you and sweeping down to kiss you sweetly.

The ringing in your ears has barely subsided, but you’ve decided not to take anymore of his teasing laying down. Slipping your fingers from his hair, you move your hands to his shoulders; and with whatever muscle control you still maintain, you flip him off of you, onto his back.

“How long —” 

You climb over his lap and straddle him, placing your palms flat against his chest. It’s as much a show of dominance as it is a carefully disguised trick for balance. 

“— have you been waiting to say that?”

Caught red handed, Seokmin shoots you that trademark, heart-shaped smile. His cheeks were already flushed from the effort he just expended on you; that perfect pink only deepens when he blushes and laughs, “What, you think I can’t come up with killer lines in the heat of the moment?”

You scratch your nails gently down the lines of his abdominal muscles. “Nope,” you purr.

Sitting up on his elbows, Seokmin tilts his head to the side and narrows his dark eyes at you. You’re nowhere near used to seeing him look at you like this, like you’re something to be devoured. The feeling of being wanted so badly makes your stomach flip.

“Give me some credit, won’t you?” He asks, voice low. “You’re a knockout; you’re naked in front of me for the first time; and it’s a miracle I can talk at all when I feel this concussed.”

When you lean in, he licks his lips expectantly. You’re close enough to kiss him, of course, but you stop a few millimeters shy of your mark and watch him fight the urge to pout. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly.

“Is that why you’re still not naked?”

Seokmin’s next move is to reach for the black briefs he’s still got on, but you stop him, encircling each of his wrists with your hands.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut with a patronizing shake of your head. “You’re fired. I’m in control now.”

If the little sigh he lets out is any indication, he is very much on board with your self-promotion.

He takes your cue and reels himself in, allowing you to move further down his body, your fingertips hooking under his elastic waistband and tugging as you go. When his length finally springs free, you duck your head to take him into your mouth, beyond eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, eyelids fluttering, while you swirl your tongue around his head. “Feels s-so —”

The rest of his sentence gets stuck in his throat; you take what you can of him down your own throat, working whatever remains with your hand. 

Seokmin wants so badly to watch, you know he does, but he’s sensitive, too. His head tips back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.

It’s messy, the spit dribbling down your chin and the sound brought forth by the suction of your mouth around him. The obscenity of it all spurs you on. Nothing inspires you quite like Seokmin’s breathy whines and low moans, though. Above all else, it’s his reaction to you that slicks the inside of your thighs.

You’d give him the ending he deserves, right down the back of your throat, but you feel his fingertips graze your shoulder, beckoning you to look up at him.

Voice rough, he pleads, “Come here.”

With his steadying hands on you, you move back into your original position with your bent knees on either side of him. You immediately spot the indent his teeth have left on his lower lip, which is now slightly swollen. Delicately, you brush your thumb over the mark. “Oh, you’re a goner.”

Seokmin looks at you pointedly. Though you tease, you’re even worse off: drunk on the taste of him, as much as the sight of him underneath you, wanting you just as badly.

“Alright, alright,” you concede. “I am, too.” 

The hand you use to wave dismissively at him then reaches down between your thighs, fingers wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

“But I’m taking you down with me.”

And you do.

So thoroughly that you barely recall him staggering off to the bathroom when all is said and done, the wash cloth he returns with to clean you up, or the way you slump into his waiting arms before promptly falling asleep.

You sleep so soundly, in fact, that you don’t stir when the sun blares through the open curtains. Likewise, when Seokmin carefully maneuvers himself out of the tangle of your limbs and places your head on a real pillow instead, you’re none the wiser.

What finally gets to you is the clatter of the expensive, hotel-issued shampoo clattering against the floor of the shower, echoing off the tile like a sonic boom. You sit bolt upright in bed, staring bleary-eyed in the direction of the bathroom. 

As if on cue, Seokmin pokes his head out of the doorway to see if you managed to sleep through the noise. Damp hair splays over his forehead, hanging just as loosely as his lazily-knotted bathrobe. If you weren’t still too sleepy to function, you’d love nothing more than to grab him by that tie and drag him back to bed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Bambi,” he coos, though his mouth is full of both toothpaste and a toothbrush in a distinctly greener shade of blue than usual.

You merely point at his mouth with a half-powered look of distress, otherwise unable to put your suspicion into words. He doesn’t get it; he glances down at his chest, looking for what he assumes is a stray glob of paste.

When you finally do speak, it’s a prayer: “Please tell me that’s not mine.”

Seokmin blinks at you, then down his nose at the toothbrush he’s using. He cocks his head to the side, opens his mouth to assure you it isn’t, and finally, when the realization makes his eyes widen, he groans.

You wail, “Noooooo!”

Memories of your last trip together clash before your mind — specifically, attempting to navigate a drug store in a foreign language while you shopped for the replacement toothbrush Seokmin is currently holding.

Ears bright red with embarrassment, he ducks back into the bathroom. Immediately, you hear a rush of water from the tap, which nearly drowns out his feeble cry of “I’m sorry!”

“I know it’s an honest mistake, but how do you make it twice?” 

You collapse back onto the pillows and bury your face in your palms; and you stay that way, even when you hear him padding softly over to you. The mattress shifts under his weight as he makes his way, one knee at a time, until you feel him looming over you. His hands reach out and gently pull yours from your face.

Before you can get any ideas, Seokmin flattens himself on top of you; a weighted blanket, smelling like vanilla and spearmint. He folds his arms across your chest and props his chin up on the top of his right wrist, bright eyes sparkling as he peers up at you.

Suddenly, you find it very difficult to be annoyed with him. The worst part is that none of this is by design. He always just looks at you this way, not to get out of trouble but because you’re you.

Your hand reaches out of its own accord and brushes the remaining damp strands off his forehead. When your touch lingers, Seokmin leans into it, warming your palm with his cheek.

“Hey,” you say, after failing to come up with anything better.

He beams. “Hi.”

“Why are we awake at this hour?”

That smile of his evaporates slowly, giving way to a grimace you’ve seen before. “Seungcheol and Mingyu want to meet up at the ski lodge before the post-brunch crowd gets there,” he explains. “And I told my parents we’d get breakfast with them first, since yesterday was… well, mostly a disaster.”

“And it will conveniently provide you with time to think of a way out of snowboarding?” You chuckle quietly and pat his cheek. Seokmin shakes his head firmly, then stretches his neck enough to kiss you. “No,” he mumbles defiantly against your lips. “I never back down from a triple-dog dare.”

[callmearcturus]

dottie lasso is the final boss of the show (and ted loses)

someone commented on my ted-is-a-feminine-junior-too post about recognizing dottie lasso and what she did, and i'm a Johnny-come-lately to this fandom so i missed all the discourse

but surely it's been discussed to death that Dottie Lasso is the Final Boss of Ted's life, right? like, she shows up on that bench and you should feel the opening of "MEGALOVANIA" in your soul because she's the villain of the story.

honestly, in Ted Lasso, the main villains are: Rupert Mannion, Twitter, Rupert Mannion again, cisnormativity/heteronormativity, and Dottie Lasso, kind of in that order IMO.

"Mom City" is kind of a genius episode with its thesis and punchline. Because Dottie shows up and derails Ted's entire life and not in a good way. She makes him palpably uncomfortable and all of his usual kindness and interest is just turned off around her.

This episode isn't shy about reminding the audience that Richmond has become Ted's home. From the most fish outta water who nearly gets killed looking the wrong way crossing the street, Ted knows his neighbors, knows the culture here, and is defensive with that knowledge because it's been hard-won over time.

No but really, look at how UNCOMFORTABLE Ted is EVERY MINUTE of this episode. It's so stark bc this charm offensive Dottie's doing on everyone at Richmond is so clearly a Lasso Thing. This is the exact tactic Ted used when he was new in town and completely at sea.

(fuck this got long, there's a lot more under the jump)

But he isn't charmed or permissive or entertained, he never once Yes, Ands what Dottie says. In fact, he corrects her all the time.

jesus fuck look at this specific moment!!!

who the fuck are you and where is ted

because Dottie being here is a nightmare. she's the person who knows the Ted Lasso Source Code and the way she maneuvers and nudges him, he seems helpless against it. So he continuously separates himself from her in what feels to me like a fearful reaction.

Like, when Dottie explains where she's staying, she does this trick

DOTTIE: An adorable little hostel. I've met so many Australians. They are backpacking through Europe. So much sex. TED: Mom. DOTTIE: Not me, the Australians. TED: No, no, I get it, okay. How about you stay here for the rest of your trip, all right? DOTTIE: Only if I'm not a hassle.

This is such a fucking move, you realize? She has been in London a fucking WEEK without telling him, then as soon as she tells him where she's staying, she, a midwestern mom to her open-minded but very romantically private son, invokes sex so he'll be uncomfortable with the situation and invite her to stay. This is a chess move they should call the Wichita Shuffle.

And Ted absolutely hates the way Dottie lies about him. The connection is pretty straightforward; Dottie deals with her trauma and pain by covering them up with pretty little lies and melting truths until they fit the shape she wants them to be in. Everything she says in this episode is bullshit.

(points up) THIS INCLUDED, BTW. This is the Ted that Dottie wants him to be, the guy who will fall on his sword at the first sign of someone else's discomfort.

But that isn't who Ted is anymore and Dottie saying this is vicious and cruel. It's disrespectful to Rebecca, to everyone at Richmond, and to the work Ted's done with Sharon.

which oooooooooh

hey, anyone else remember Ted's "I love meeting people's moms, it's like an instruction manual on why they're nuts" from S2? boy that's a brick joke

and this bit of dottie saying her anxiety re: ted's therapy out loud, that hissing sound is a fuse being lit in this moment

Ted calls her out directly. He knows how she operates because she raised him in her own image. As I noted in the other post, Leslie Higgins is not the only feminine junior at Richmond, so is Theodore Lasso, son of Dorothy Lasso.

THAT FUCKING DARK CHUCKLE, THE "YEAH OKAY" MOMENT this is the fuse finally reaching the dynamite

this is the moment, this moment of push-back, implicitly the first time Ted's ever pushed back in his life

this is the moment Dottie takes every single thing she knows about Ted, everything she put into him, and she destroys his fucking life with the exact four words it would take to make Ted give up everything he's worked for, all so he'll go back to being what she expects from him.

and hell if he doesn't know it.

everything he's done for himself, all the space he's finally allowed himself to fill, the progress and labor he's put into becoming a better person

mom shows up and tells him no, you're coming back.

(and the fact Dottie Lasso, a character who has not said five truthful things this entire episode, tells us how someone else feels should be questioned very fucking directly. i don't trust this woman to honestly report on Henry's opinion of peanut butter and jelly, let alone if he wants his father to give up his life and return to Kansas. i know every single fic has brought up the question of "hey why doesn't anyone ask Henry what he wants" but that's because SOMEONE needs to ask the question instead of taking Dorothy fucking Lasso's word for it, christ)

I don't know how tf you don't read this show as a tragedy. Dottie Lasso is incredible, she's so pitch-perfectly written and acted, and she's absolutely the final boss of the show. And Ted doesn't win that fight.

hell THE SHOW SAYS THE QUIET PART OUT LOUD, i would put the screencap here but I've run out of images, but THEY FUCK YOU UP, YOUR MUM AND DAD, THE SHOW SAYS IT this is a fantastic tragedy, i love it

[mossycakes]

i talk a lot about the absolute horror that daniel went through in s2ep5 and how, all twink and gay jokes aside, just imagining that night and the 5 subsequent others from his perspective is CHILLING. but the other night i was thinking about nicki, and how his entire life was pretty much an absolute horror story, complete with the idyllic happy relationship at the start that completely dissolves into horror.

think about it, one morning you wake up and your boyfriend is just GONE. the only trace of him is the open window and the bedsheets thrown back. you wonder, what the fuck happened? did he leave me? surely not, we're on like, the third story? but the door is still locked... is he dead? your friends tell you not to worry, and that this is just lestat, especially when a few weeks later lavish gifts sent in his name arrive for you and your friends. they take it at face value and suggest he just got bored, as he so often does, but something just isnt right. and to make matters worse, you feel haunted by him, by his presence, you can up and down SWEAR you keep seeing him around.

and then one day he returns, and hes fine...? and everyone is so happy to see him but hes a bit. weird. and they push him out on the stage and the next thing you know the audience is fleeing and your ears are ringing. you cant make heads or tails of this, so you follow him as he runs into a box, only to see him get shot. your ears are still ringing but youre pretty sure you screamed, and he didnt even flinch. he just stands there, like a walking corpse, and smokes vaguely from the wound. and then hes gone again, and youre still not convinced it wasnt a horrible dream, still not convinced youre not being haunted by a vengeful spirit in the shape of someone you loved.

well maybe you could get passed that. (not really). but maybe. maybe your life could possibly return to some sense or normality, shrouded by grief but nothing that you cant recover from. and then something worse, YES, WORSE! happens. something beyond nightmares. something passed describing. as youre taken kicking and screaming by a horde of... what even are they??? corpses??? husks??? suddenly this starts to make a little bit of sense, in the way that you were trying to be reasonable about this entire situation, and theres absolutely nothing reasonable or sane about it in the first place. and your boyfriend is, predictably, at the centre of it (because he always is) and now whatever hes got up to, whatever supernatural fucked up bullshit hes been dealing with, has started spilling over into your life and may just be the cause of your death.

well finally, after that fuzzy but harrowing ordeal, he takes you... home? to a dark and cold stone tower on the edge of paris? and holds you and talks to you and you think he still loves you, you think he thinks nothing has changed and that youre fine and this is fine and everythings fine, and that just pisses you off. but he holds you and talks to you and maybe you nod and agree with something. maybe you shouldntve, because then shit gets WEIRD and after everything, EVERYTHING youve been through your emotions start to spill over, and youre a vampire now, and you didnt really want to be, oh and vampires are real, and you didnt want any of this, you wanted to play violin in the theatre with your boyfriend, but now everythings fucked and youre the tragedy of a gothic horror. youre the tragic waste, you were doomed from the start, from the moment you stepped foot in paris or picked up that violin, it was already over.

and sure enough, after misery and torture and more misery and madness, long after youve accepted your position, accepted his, you make up your mind and seek out ways to bring the immortal to mortality. maybe you can finally find peace in this insanity. and the only way to do that is to leap into your own funeral pyre.

[uncanny-dedp00l]

The Homoerotic Imagery of the Honda Odyssey Fight in the film Deadpool and Wolverine: a comprehensive essay

The famous Honda Odyssey scene. It has gone sensational throughout fandom spaces for being a passionate fight scene between the movie's leads. Starting with an emotional monologue from Wolverine (filled with what can be taken as some projection, but that is another topic), and ending with a somewhat peace formed between the two. Of course, to most casual movie-goers watching, it was probably just another fight scene. However, to the trained fandom eye, it is much more.

The main thing that makes it more coded towards being a sex scene than merely an angry fight between buddies is the music. A good majority of the tracks in this film are love songs, and this one is no exception. Originally written for the film adaptation of *Grease*, it's about a girl transforming herself to win her love back and wanting him to "shape up" for her. This goes along with the film plot of Wolverine needing to "shape up" to help Deadpool save his world.

The other thing that leans for the sex allegory is the poses and positioning. Most obviously is where they are bent over the front of the car though the windshield, directly on top of each other. Also though is the angle where Deadpool is bent back out through the back windshield and snaps his arm back into place. There's lots of instances of being on top of each other and "exchanging bodily fluids" (in the form off blood). Somehow even more intense than being bent over the car is the small moment where Wolverine gives a small smile as blood splashes onto his face, clearly enjoying himself.

There are many who could say this is all coincidence or just queerbaiting jokes, but there are so many instances in this film of romantic subtext that at which point does it just become the main text of the film? While that is debate for another day, there is more than enough evidence for the Honda Odyssey fight to have been something more.

Finally, while the dialogue itself makes jokes about it, it's much deeper than that. The implications had to be there when writing, as there is no way this much homoeroticism can be entirely on accident. The extreme uses of sex tropes for the scene is the main reason, specifically the closing shot of the van rocking as blood sprays onto the sign saying "coexist." Deadpool and Wolverine quite certainly "coexisted" inside that car for sure. Additionally, at the very end of the film when introducing Blind Al to Dogpool, Deadpool says: "like an armadillo fucked a gremlin, angrily, in a bed of gonorrhea and didn't stop til the sun came up," which sounds a bit like what happened in the Odyssey.

[scarlet--wiccan]

Does Tommy like, remember hazy details/feelings about what happened pre-shepherds (life with Wanda and vision and/or as a little lost soul afterwards) ? I feel like there’s been some indications in that direction, particularly in oliviera’s stuff but I’m unsure if it’s just me getting carried away with something I personally think would be interesting

I'm not sure. Billy does, if the dream sequence from Young Avengers Presents: Wiccan & Speed is anything to go by. It stands to reason that Tommy might have experienced something similar.

I don't like the way Oliveira writes about these characters or this part of their history. I've enjoyed a lot of his Young Avengers work and loved his stories about present-day Billy and Teddy, but this storyline with the twins has fallen super flat for me. He does what a lot of contemporary writers-- and fans, and writers who started out as fans-- do when they're talking about that chapter in Wanda's life, which is to rewrite history in way that diminishes both her victimhood and her agency, and seriously invalidates her motherhood. It really rubs me the wrong way, and I don't think it benefits any of the characters.

I do appreciate that Oliveira sort of reframed the "Demiurge" as something Billy and Tommy share, similar to how Orlando evened the ground between Wanda and Pietro when he recontextualized Nexus Beings. But, and I've said this before, I have no interest in the "Demiurge" meaning "cosmic creator of all reality," or whatever's supposed to be going on here with them and the M'Kraan crystal. Maybe I'm alone this, but I really think that Becoming God is the least fucking interesting thing a character can do.

And the stuff with Mephisto kinda made my skin crawl. Framing him as their father in any way, shape, or form is just so gross, and I cannot believe there are so many readers that are actually going along with it. And while I really do respect Oliveira's academic + artistic relationship with theology, I think it was really inappropriate to infuse these characters with so much Catholic language and imagery.

[hellhathfrozethoverthinking]

killkillkill

[quietwingsinthesky]

Dean is such a paradox for me because on the one hand, I have been actively triggered by him in the show, there are moments where, intentionally or not, the writers managed to create a portrayal of manipulation and abuse and control issues that it sets off actual alarms for me. And on the other hand, I would not have him any other way. There is something — not comforting, that’s too soft a word — about knowing where Dean’s actions stem from, having seen and learned all that we do about his childhood neglect and parentification and the trauma he goes through repeatedly in the show, and that he doesn’t come out clean. He comes out a goddamn mess who ends up hurting the people around him in reaction to his own pain!

There’s a reality there that’s. Almost nice, actually. Distressing to watch, but it is a fucking mess, it’s a good mess! He’s got zero healthy coping skills and a healthy relationship with say, his brother, is terrifying because it leaves him open to abandonment!

I’m not sure I’m wording this correctly. There is a way to be a good abuse victim. Take the pain, martyr yourself on it, and then, even if you have no support or idea how to, then you have to become a Good Person who never hurts anyone the way you have been learning to your entire life. Simply toss everything that shaped you out the door and emerge a saint with a tragic backstory. And Dean is not that. And that’s so fucking good. Everything that he has gone through continues to effect the way he treats the people around him, and he can’t fight the behaviors he might recognize as harmful because he also sees them as protecting him (or protecting Sam by keeping Sam with him.)

And sometimes, idk. It feels good to see a guy who didn’t heal the “right way.” Who mostly didn’t heal at all, just keeps the wound open because it’s easier that way.

[sforzesco]

‘Is there a point to any of this or do you just want to see how much more I can take?’ snaps Crassus. ‘Oh, I knew there was still some bite left in you,’ says Cethegus, thrilled. Cethegus teaches Crassus the art of politics and the ways of business. Sulla is not a fan.

Sulla: the Last Republican, Arthur Keaveney

Crassus, Catilina, and the Vestal Virgins, Ronald Syme

Sulla: the Last Republican, Arthur Keaveney

[feline-evil]

Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

[sunbunnyyy]

lan xichen is not a perfect human being. he is an older brother who is Going Through Some Shit by the end of the novel. did he always make good choices?? no!! have you????

[skeletalheartattack]

ignoring realistic necessities like food, care, space, and medical attention, what video game enemy would you want to have as a pet ?

if i had to choose. it'd be one of these three.

[imissthefire]

the forging bonds supports omfg 🥺