#and fumbled THE goo kim | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year ago

Text

yes or no?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, slight yoongi x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook is distraught to know he can't jack off. After all, he spent all that money to complete his tattoo sleeve. He wasn't about to ruin all that hard work just for a quick nut. But it's going to take a while to heal. Days – no, weeks! – with no masturbating. Waaah! Why did he pick his right arm?! Thankfully, noona to the rescue... right? RIGHT?!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; slight crack b/c JK's POV; JK is whipped, welp; smut (fem reader, minor D/s dynamics, sexual fantasies, heavy petting / teasing, cock-and-ball torture, finger sucking, spit kink, handjob / m-masturbation, edging / orgasm denial, hair-pulling kink, nipple play, m-receiving oral, multiple orgasms, mentioned forearm kink); noona!reader; pleasure is JK-focused and JK's POV

'magic-8' ball noona is back! no need to read, just know there's a yoongi x reader x jk sex triangle and they're roommates :D

Jeon Jungkook was in pain, horny, and depressed.

On the plus side, his tattoo sleeve was almost completed!

Woohoo!

Sigh, no, he still felt like throwing himself into a wall and sliding down to become an unmoving puddle of goo. So tired. He always felt like this after the adrenaline of a long tattoo session. Session days were fun while he was in the studio hanging out with the tattoo artist, even for hours on end. He had brought his own snacks, plenty of water, and pain medication. The artist had even brought lunch for him – probably because Jungkook was spending a LOT of money covering up some old tattoos he ragretted regretted, but hey! Free food! Jungkook was always happy to receive free meat!

Wait. That sound weird.

Eh.

Anyway.

He sighed as he fumbled with his keys, trying to use his left hand as much as possible. Today, the artist had worked on his right forearm and filling in his elbow with black. The skin there was irritated and covered in plastic, which made it annoying to do common tasks he noticed. Great. Another day of not getting off. Yeah, Jungkook loved getting tattoos but it made him grumpy that he couldn’t just jerk off whenever he wanted.

What?!

It was a legitimate reason to be grumpy, dammit.

Why did Jungkook pick his right arm for his tattoo sleeve? Simple. He had no foresight and tattoos were permanent. Whoops. (He was not an idiot. Trust.) He finally got the key into the lock and turned it. His life wouldn’t be so hard (keke) if it wasn’t for his current living arrangements. To be clear, he really did love living in Kim Seokjin’s house full of his friends. There was just one problem. One very sexy problem.

He opened the door cautiously, wondering if he would hear moaning today.

Silence.

Whew.

The house smelled really good though. Like food. Mmmm. Food. Jungkook wandered in, loosely holding onto the strap of his large black bag and stepping out of his shoes, neatly settling them into their spot… to avoid getting scolded later. He was a good boy.

Sometimes.

The current residents of the home were: Kim Seokjin, the owner of the house, actor, and professional whaler in too many games; Kim Taehyung, a fashion model and close friend that had taken over Park Jimin’s spot after Jimin had moved out to work overseas for a while; Min Yoongi, a music producer and quite possibly sex on legs (Taehyung’s words, one had to be there for it to be funny); and the Magic-8 ball noona. The only girl. Also, she was, erm, part of a consensual sex triangle that Jungkook was a member of but he definitely didn’t start it.

Really…!

Anyway.

She had a real name but Jungkook was always going to remember that cursed hunk of plastic denying him twenty-six times. Besides, it was just easier to refer to her as noona since she was the one female and older than him. It was proper and polite. She was only by name when he was on his knees and begging to cum.

Cough.

Anyway!

He made his way into the kitchen carefully. It wasn’t unusual for the house to be fairly quiet as it was quite common for the introverts to split up and occupy themselves with their respective hobbies, especially when Taehyung went out with his friends. Jungkook vaguely remembered Taehyung saying he was going to a sauna with his squad or something like that. Seokjin was probably playing MapleStory in the master bedroom with his headphones on. Something about a new update. He wasn’t coming out unless to eat and even that would be rare. Yoongi and noona… well, they were either fucking or holed up in their respective rooms being creative.

Oh.

Yeah, did he mention the other part of this sex triangle was his sharp-witted, cat-eyed, resting-bitch-face-but-secretly-a-tsundere hyung? And the first place Jungkook witnessed Yoongi and her having sex was the kitchen he was about to walk into? His dick twitched every time he entered the kitchen because of it. He both felt guilty and became aroused by the wrongness of it. Then got more turned on when he remembered that he couldn’t masturbate tonight. Maybe he should just touch himself with his left hand to relieve some pressure. Or make it worse. On purpose.

Ugh, maybe he really was a masochist.

Jungkook rounded the corner and yelped when found himself cornered by his hyung and his noona glaring at him.

“Wah!”

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” his grumpy hyung grumbled.

“There you are,” his mischievous noona mused, waving about a ladle like it was a magic wand. “Sit down, sit down. You must be hungry after a long day.”

“Why didn’t you text? We ended up having dinner without you, hah,” Yoongi hmphed, poking Jungkook in the chest. The older male looked tired and overworked. One glance between the glowing, calm smile to Yoongi’s messy black hair sticking up in every direction. It was pretty clear what went down. RIP, hyung. His hyung was wearing an elegant black silk pajama shirt and matching pants with the waistband slightly askew. Red mark on the fair skin of his exposed collarbone.

Here? Or in her bed? Or in his bed? Or… mine so it smells just like them?

It was an irrelevant thought, as Jungkook rarely slept in his own bed despite having one. He had a bad habit unique quirk of falling asleep wherever he was, whenever he felt the need to sleep. This greatly annoyed Seokjin and made Taehyung laugh. Sometimes Jungkook would wake up with the latter guy sleeping on top of him like a handsome sloth. Just Taehyung things. But most times, Jungkook was in his noona’s bed.

Hey! It was a comfy bed.

Ahem.

Jungkook received another sharp poke and he jumped, stumbling as he was pushed to the kitchen island, extra startled as Yoongi wordlessly pulled out the seat for him. He got a what? look in response, complete with black strands falling over those narrowed dark brown eyes.

“Don’t you have to be careful about your arm, especially the first night?” Yoongi puffed. “Don’t get used to it.”

“O-Oh… yeah… t-thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi pretended not to hear and scooted himself towards the stove. She was standing next to a pot on low heat looking remarkably put together in red plaid pajamas. Jungkook plopped his butt onto the tall chair and put his bag on the other, yanking off his beanie. Ruffled his hair quickly to avoid his short black hair looking flat and dumb. He pretended like he wasn’t checking out the way her juicy butt completely filled out the pants and the way they clung to her lush hips. He pretended he didn’t notice that the top was relatively cropped and he could clearly see her amazing waist to ass ratio. He definitely didn’t say anything about how nice it was to see the beautiful curve of her neck due to the cute sheep-shaped claw clip collecting her hair back. And he surely didn’t go completely breathless when she turned around with a steaming bowl, suddenly realizing her pajama shirt was held together by only a single button in the center and she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra. There was a row of buttons; she just hadn’t done them up.

Fuck.

It was violently unfair that she was allowed to look this hot in normal clothes.

She leaned over the counter and placed the bowl in front of him. He could see down her shirt. Damn. Even through the flannel fabric, Jungkook could still see the peaks of her nipples if he really stared. Really, really stared. For maybe ten seconds.

He jumped at the clink of a metal spoon against ceramic.

“You should eat,” she said with an enigmatic smile. Gracefully balanced her chin on the back of her knuckles, her fingers fanned downwards, her elbows resting on the counter to look into his eyes.

Shit, he was smooth melting like butter under that hot gaze.

“Pick your jaw off the floor,” said a gruff voice in Daegu satoori.

Jungkook jolted as crabby Yoongi appeared seemingly out of nowhere – well, he was here the whole time, oop – and cocked an eyebrow at him. Now the older two were both standing side by side, observing him expectantly. It was only then that Jungkook looked down and realized what was in front of him.

“Wait… it’s not my birthday.”

She chuckled. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. Ugh, he loved seeing them directed at him. “Seaweed soup will be good after a long tattoo day. You need nutrients. You need energy. Plus, Yoongi added beef in there for you. There’s some rice too, but not too much because Yoongi said you don’t like having too many carbs before sleeping. More meat, as you like it,” she concluded, using the spoon to show him all the ingredients. “We made it for you. Eat.”

She smiled exactly how the Cheshire cat would grin. He glanced at Yoongi who was staring at his fingernails like they were the most interesting thing in the world. They stood close to each other. No mistaking their closeness. The worst (best?) part was that even though Jungkook knew exactly what had happened while he was gone all those hours, he didn’t find this scene offensive.

In fact, he felt a bit teary from their consideration.

“T-Thanks…”

He took the spoon from her, his inhale hitching as his fingertips brushed against hers. Oh, her hands. Those lovely hands. His gaze shifted up, his heart beating fast. The side of her lips tugged upwards.

A smile turned smirk.

His cock twitched as Jungkook remembered her smirking face grinning up at him with his cum drenched all over her tongue. The last time he had jacked off into her mouth.

Argh!

He had used his left hand, mostly because he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to do the repeated motion of bending his right arm and bringing the utensil to his mouth right now. Hmmmm. He scrunched up his face and wrinkled his nose. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea. He didn’t want to mess up the line work and all that nice color shading. He was already doing the cover ups, after all. Plus, it did hurt a little moving too much. He would just see how far he could get. It was pretty easy since it was soup and the pieces of beef were cut pretty small.

They must have thought of that.

Jungkook tried not to cry grateful tears into his seaweed soup as he heard his hyung and noona busy themselves with cleaning the kitchen, ‘cause that would be utterly embarrassing and not very manly, sniff.

Thankfully, he was saved by his rising boner.

The thing was, Jungkook was pretty sure he wasn’t turned on by pain. Ahem. Okay, maybe a little (lotta) bit. But, time and place! This was precisely why he picked a very cool and very talented male tattoo artist. He could ask questions and be noisy and immature and not feel bad. Jungkook liked female artists but he would get too mentally distracted because he didn’t really know what to talk about, so his mind would end up wandering to another set of hands and then, bam! A not useful boner. Also, he didn’t want to creep anybody out or make them uncomfortable. That would be mean.

But, uh.

Jungkook was beginning to realize he enjoyed and hated these long sessions. He enjoyed them because he very much considered his tattoo artist his friend. He enjoyed them because his close friends were supportive, bought him snacks, and told him he was cool or brave for getting so many tattoos (very important, yup). And, yeah, he liked the repeated stabbing (it was addictive, okay?!). But he also enjoyed them because of how attentive his noona was before and during the aftercare process. She helped him prepare his bag prior to the appointment, would make sure to remind him to keep the area hydrated, make him his favorite meals (meat!), and be the first to help him in case he needed it. As for the hate part…

Ugh, it made him so fucking horny knowing he couldn’t get off without her help.

Yeah, sure, he could use his left hand. But the nut would be pisslow awful and not at all satisfying. Of course, Jungkook could wait and use his right when he felt like it was fine but that wouldn’t be for a while. He didn’t spend all that money to have to explain that he wanted a touch-up because he needed to cum being around a literal sex goddess his noona (not to mention what a mortifying thing to say to his poor tattoo artist that didn’t need to know all that). And there was no way in hell Jungkook was going to avoid his noona during his recovery. She had just made him seaweed soup! Oh, yeah, and Yoongi was there too. Anyway, the forced waiting turned him on even more than usual because there was a real reason behind it. After his first long session, he even clumsily edged himself with his left hand, multiple times, before he asked her to get him off, just so it felt even better when her lips closed around his leaking, desperate cock.

Jungkook choked on some beef.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m – ack! – fine. Totally fine!” he managed to hack out in a very not-fine tone.

“You look like you’re choking,” Yoongi commented matter-of-factly, eerily similar to a narrator of a nature documentary.

“Be careful,” she laughed, coming around the counter to rub his back. Aaaah! Jungkook lifted his right arm slightly and tried to subtly punch his dick down into submission but, as it turned out, his erection was as stubborn as he was. Awesome. Not to mention space was very limited under the counter. Shit. She patted in between his shoulder blades. “Want some water?”

“No, hah, I’m f-fine,” he wheezed, freezing up a little at her touch. He thought he was used to it by now but he really wasn’t, especially when his dick was already halfway up the stairs to heaven. Down to hell to the circle of lust? Whatever. She wasn’t too close, as she was on his right side, but he had enough memories to know how skin-to skin felt, enough times of her breasts pressed to his back and her hands exploring his chest, enough moments of her agile fingers splayed out over his pecs like blooming flowers, running her nails over his skin, flicking his nipples, all the while tracing her tongue along the base of his neck with her hard nipples rubbing against his shivering back…

Okay.

Jungkook was not fine.

“It’s kinda warm…” he mumbled as she moved away.

“That’s because you’re still wearing your jacket and having hot soup,” Yoongi pointed out, putting away some bowls. “Take it off.”

“Want help?”

It was a very innocent suggestion. Thus, Jungkook spent the next minute trying not to reveal that he had popped a boner while eating seaweed soup, sitting up and sticking out his arms like a Ken doll, letting those dreamy, long fingers peel away his oversized white and black racer jacket. Left arm first, then the right, taking care to slide it off, the sleeve cocoon stripping back to reveal the beautiful butterfly that was his fresh, brightly inked right arm.

“Oh? That’s right, you were covering up some big tattoos today, huh?” Yoongi perked up, his raspy voice with a twinge of curiosity, padding over to investigate. Underneath the jacket, Jungkook had worn a closely fitted, white, ribbed tank top. Comfy but wouldn’t get in the way. “Ho, so much color. Quite rockstar of you. You’re become such a cool guy, heh.”

“I wanted the individual images to stand out more and the artist suggested adding some color,” Jungkook clarified, slurping away at his dinner again. “I just trusted him.”

“He did such a good job,” she was saying, delicately holding his hand. Jungkook tried not to melt into a puddle. “The gradient is fantastic. The text here looks cleaner too.”

“Oh, yeah, I asked him to clean up some of my older tattoos too. For consistency.”

He continued munching happily until…

“So, what’s with the boner?”

Jungkook nearly choked again.

“Ay, Yoongi-ssi, leave him alone,” she chided, smacking Yoongi in the butt. Received a scalding squinty side-eye in response but she didn’t seem to give a shit. Nerves of steel. “You know he can’t cum unless I let him.”

Wow, okay, way to broadcast the facts!

“Hey!”

She tilted her head and rubbed the tip of his nose. Open-mouthed smirk included. Gulp. “Am I wrong?”

Against his better judgement, Jungkook pouted. “Noona…”

She patted his thigh. Condescendingly. He intensified his pout but it was futile. “Finish eating, okay? I’ll help you out in the shower…” She winked, devilish. “As usual.”

Yoongi snickered. “Just don’t be too loud.”

“Put on some headphones then,” she countered.

“Oi, I’m not blowing out my eardrums.”

“Then listen,” she hummed, caressing Jungkook’s jeans. “Or watch. No one’s stopping you.”

The bottom of Yoongi’s lips upturned, giving him the expression of a disgruntled cat. “I have to sleep.”

“Oh, like you don’t sleep enough, grandpa.”

“That wasn’t what you were calling me when I had you folded in half under me.”

Jungkook was left to slurp his soup to the sound of their bickering as her hand gently stroked the inside of his thigh. It could be worse. Could be better too, like her unzipping him and establishing dominance by jacking him off at the kitchen island. But Yoongi was not so easily fazed, so she didn’t, and Jungkook cried at (and secretly enjoyed) the feeling of pre-cum soaking through his underwear.

Turns out, he didn’t have to wait that long to enjoy suffering.

Er.

Attention?

Towards the end of his meal was getting a bit annoying to scoop up what was left, so Jungkook put down the spoon to pick up the bowl and drink of the rest of the soup. For a brief second, he was let go and he noticed Yoongi was flicking his hand over his noona’s chest. She grabbed his hand, pulling that scowling face to her into a sudden and tense kiss. Hey, he wasn’t above some adult entertainment while eating. Well, maybe not during the majority of the meal, but Jungkook kept a (big) peeper out. From his periphery, he saw Yoongi slip his hands under her shirt and heard her murmur in satisfaction, trailing kisses over Yoongi’s face. He saw his hyung smile in response, warm and genuine and butterfly-inducing.

Jungkook lowered the bowl slowly as Yoongi opened his eyes.

And winked.

Devilish.

“I’m leaving,” Yoongi suddenly announced, untangling himself and slinking away.

His noona snickered and shook her head. “Okay, nerd.”

Then she turned around and, before Jungkook could say anything about Yoongi running away like a criminal undercover, she revealed that her shirt was now open and fully exposing her perky tits and large, hard nipples.

“Oh!”

Jungkook felt his eyeballs nearly pop out of his skull at the unexpected surprise.

She acted as if they could ever have a normal conversation with her boobs right in front of his face. “So, are you still tired? Just wanna get washed up and go to sleep?”

He tried to answer but from the first word it was impossible. Her pajama shirt was sliding down her perfect shoulders, revealing smooth skin and the flannel fabric cradled her breasts, framing them perfectly. She smelled fresh and fruity, just like her signature lotion scent. Blackberry and vanilla. Her forearms lay against his thighs, forcing his body to turn, and he gasped as her fingers fanned out over his muscular thighs and squeezed them, basically half-crawling into his lap to look up at him, asking her questions in a very leisurely and unbothered tone.

“Tired…?” he echoed, his brain in a completely different dimension. “Wuh?”

Her hands glided up his sides and delicately closed in around his waist. He gasped, stiffening as her touch encased him, feeling the action through the fabric of his tank top. She hummed softly, caressing his waist. Slow. Tender. Not a second of rushing even though blood was rushing straight down into his dick at record speed. He felt her gaze on him and shifted his own to her face, seeing her observe him with lovely eyes that contained all the innocence of a kumiho.

So, none at all.

Her smile reappeared, mysterious and sinful.

Her palm grazed over his tense abdomen and he whimpered under his breath. Or so he thought.

“Feeling good?” she asked serenely.

“Y… Yeah…”

Down. Tracing the button of his jeans. His breath caught in his throat. Fingertip by fingertip, in slow motion, tapping lightly on his bulge. Barely any pressure. Solidly tucked between his legs, her ass sticking out. He would be fine with the other side of the view too. This house needed more mirrors, Jungkook concluded.

“Do you remember why you came to me?”

He stopped staring at her ass as the question registered. He was holding his right arm out and his left elbow was resting on the counter. “In the beginning?”

“Mhm.”

She was now cupping his covered erection and pulsing her grip around it, making his cock throb and leak everywhere. Great. His boxer briefs were a cum-filled mess now, surely. He could feel the squish and the stimulation against the tip. Agonizing pleasure.

His cheeks warmed. “Ah… Yeah… because… my previous girlfriends said I f-fucked like a robot…”

“You think maybe you just weren’t that into them?” she questioned, running her fingertips of her other hand along his back and waist, sending tingles up his spine.

“I…” It was impossible to concentrate. “Ah… Well… A-Aren’t you supposed to fall f-for their personality first…?”

“Is that why you’re into me? My personality?”

Jungkook looked down.

Right at her personali-titties.

He swallowed so hard that he almost choked.

Again.

“Hm?” she mused.

Ripped his gaze from the visual of her prominent nipples hanging down next to his open thighs and into that sly stare that knew everything. Gulp. She continued toying with his crotch, stroking along the length, dipping down to pat the outline of his balls, smirking wider as his cock jerked in his pants. The roar of his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Fuck. It was the power in that gaze. The confidence in her stance. The ability to be below him and be completely, utterly in control. The taste of forbidden fruit, just within reach. The sensation of his whole body being overcome with want and the way she gladly overwhelmed all his senses by her presence alone. She didn’t have to touch him at all. She didn’t have to expose herself. She didn’t have to smell so good. She didn’t have to.

She simply chose to do all those things to drive him even more crazy.

“Yes or no?” she purred.

He could lie, but he was a terrible liar.

“Y… Yes…”

She seemed very satisfied with his response. Slid up between his legs, her hand on his back dropping and gliding up against his chest instead. He shivered, his lips parting as she rose, closer, the warmth of her exhale washing over him, a soft sigh and then their faces close, centimeters from each other with his racing heart under her palm. Her fingers spread out. Her index found his silver chain necklace resting on his collarbones, playing with it with a small smile.

Her other hand was still on top of his hard dick.

Jungkook used to think that there was no way sex could be sexy. The idea of it was sexy. In practice, sex used to be awkward and uncomfortable, but essential to get his rocks off. It felt like something he had to do. But it wasn’t like that, at least with her. Well, he still sometimes felt awkward and uncomfortable, but Jungkook suspected she was doing it on purpose. He didn’t mind though, because she always touched him with such fondness and – maybe this was the delulu talking – but he really didn’t need the sex so much as he needed her to keep looking at him the way she did.

His dick throbbed suddenly in protest.

“Ah–!”

She tilted her head and kissed him.

Placing a chaste kiss right below his lips, the soft press taking his breath away, and then her lips ghosted over his, grabbing a fistful of his tank top and kissing him deeply. Fuck, how he loved her lips. How could he describe them? So fluffy and yet so insistent. Determined, seductive, pulling him to her and sighing, her contented breath filling his lungs and giving him life. His left hand found the collar of her shirt and gripped it tightly, not even realizing he had closed his eyes instinctively, wanting nothing more than to melt into her. Her hair brushed against his cheek and neck. Her scent warmed him, sweet and decadent. Her knuckles pressed into his sternum, unyielding. Her fingers tangled into the silver chain around his neck, possessive.

His brain melted into a puddle of bliss.

He moaned her name into her lips as she parted. She squeezed his inner thigh through his loose jeans. Still, the fabric was too thick for it to be satisfying enough.

“W-Wait…”

“You kinda taste like beef,” she remarked, releasing her hold and patting his chest. “Come on. If we fuck in the kitchen, I’ll have more to clean than your dishes.”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn. “O… Oh.”

She backed up a step and took way too long to button a single button to cover her breasts again. He spent a good ten seconds gawking at their perky shape and the way her obvious nipples stuck straight out. She acted as if nothing was wrong, lingering between his spread-open thighs.

“You have to shower quickly, right? Go get started and I’ll come wash your back.”

“But, n-noona–!”

Her hand flew up and landed at the base of his neck. Thumb to one side, four fingers on the other. Jungkook froze.

She cocked an eyebrow.

Then she smirked.

His pulse hammered in his throat, so close to being constricted.

“Are you saying you’re flexible enough to wash your own back now?”

Jungkook shook his head so fast his vision blurred. “Nope. I’m weak. Help. I can’t take off my clothes either. Owie. It hurts so much.”

“Mmmm, very convincing.” She didn’t sound convinced. At all.

Damnnit.

“Gah!”

She gave him an exasperated look. “As if I haven’t seen you naked before.”

Minutes later, Jungkook found himself sitting in the bathtub, puffing his cheeks as he washed his hair with his left hand and felt the bath sponge rub against his back. Ah. She was leaning over the side of the tub, holding onto his left shoulder and rubbing circles into his back. Aaaah. He had left the plastic on his right arm for now, intending to remove the tape as his last step so he could rinse it off with a gentle, unscented cleanser. The water was lukewarm. Not the greatest, but he didn’t want to steam up the bathroom. It would be bad for the tattoos.

“U-Um… noona?”

“Hm?”

She rubbed down to his lower back. He sat up straighter. There was a wet towel blanketed over his crotch. Not really for any reason other than cold. Yeah. Anyway. She leaned over and kept going, massaging him at the same time. He gasped as she pressed the base of her palm into his muscle and kneaded.

“I… uh… about what I said earlier…”

“Mhm.”

He jumped a little but she was just leaning over to grab the detachable showerhead, adjusting the water to the correct temperature. “I hope… I hope I didn’t offend you or anything. I do like your personality a lot. You’re assertive and funny and you always remember stuff I like,” Jungkook rambled, lowering his left hand. His right was slightly hanging off the edge of the tub to keep it out of the way. Of course, he scrubbed his armpits before she came in. It would have been rude not to clean all the important bits first.

She rinsed off his back. “I’m not worried,” she chuckled.

“Oh, okay.”

“I don’t mind that you’re shallow. It’s flattering, coming from a hot guy like you.”

“That’s good – wait, what?!”

She sprayed the top of his head and sent him into sputters.

“Ah!”

She grabbed his shoulder, quickly and vigorously rinsing off his hair before pulling the showerhead away and turning off the water. Not before spraying him in the chest though. Jungkook found himself with his drenched hair flat against his forehead, making him unable to see. He felt like a wet dog. He almost wiggled away – until her arm slid down and rested against his chest, her other hand slipping under his wet hair and pushing it back, laughing playfully as she spoke.

“Oh, Jungkook. You’re so silly. Don’t worry about nothing,” she sighed, petting his head.

He couldn’t say anything.

Mostly because her tits were now pressed against the top of his back.

Oh, fuck. Her large, soft nipples rubbed against his shoulders. And her breasts, ooh, so plushy. “Everyone knows you like my personality.” So bouncy. Mmmm. “Just like how everyone knows you’ve been thirsting after me since day one.” No, it was more like first thirty seconds of seeing her. “Just like how everyone knows you’re a pain slut.”

Her breasts pressed against his shoulders.

Wait.

What did she say?

She plucked the towel away from his crotch and locked her fingers around his package.

“AAH!”

She slapped a hand over his mouth and pinned him to her body, crouching over him. It was then – how could it be only THEN – that Jungkook’s brain fully registered that she was topless. Possibly bottom-less too! Not only was she naked but also she was roughly massaging his balls with his rapidly hardening length trapped between her thumb and index finger, essentially making a cock ring with her two fingers and a ball cage with the rest. He gasped, rolling his head back onto her shoulder, moaning behind her hand as her touch switched between caress and choking his balls. There was no water in the tub as the drain wasn’t pushed down.

Her hand changed from covering his mouth to slipping two fingers into his lips.

“See? You like this,” she whispered, sultry and low.

He tried to gurgle out, n-no way, but he was too busy lifting his hips and thrusting upwards, trying to get the friction he so urgently desired but couldn’t achieve. She dragged her nails across his balls and his eyelids fluttered, sucking on her fingers, spit trickling past his lips and down his chin, his moan echoing in the bathroom when she finally closed her grip around his aching cock, pumping slow, running a fingertip over the head, slicking out the pre-cum leaking out.

“P-Please…” he whined.

“You gotta get out now,” she reminded him.

“No, please…”

She slowly thrust her fingers into his mouth, rubbing his tongue. “You should wait longer, shouldn’t you?” He tried to shake his head but he couldn’t, his hips bucking as her speed increased. “Don’t want you to get sweaty and all that.” Fuck, please, he wanted to scream and nearly did when she let go and lightly smacked around his stiff erection, slapping his cock against his tense inner thighs. It bounced around, the head dark red, aching for release. He was so hard that his cock popped right back into position, sticking straight upwards between his spread legs. “Do you really think you’ve been a good boy?” His own saliva was dripping down his chin. How did she get this level of desperation out of him so easily? She held his shaft up with only the back of her thumb and firmly smacked his balls, rapid and light, making him cry out and squirm. “Hold it up.”

“N-Noona, please…”

“Hold it up if you want me to suck your dick,” she ordered calmly.

The thrill raced up his spine. His hair was dripping, droplets down his cheeks and neck. This was it. This electric, intense feeling that seemed to control him, his hand ghosting down to wrap around his twitching length, gasping sharply when her fingers left his mouth. She cupped his chin instead, tilting his head up and now they were looking at each other, only for a moment, her sparkling eyes rich with passion, intoxicating pleasure snaking up his core as he melted under her hot gaze.

This was the feeling Jungkook always wanted.

She lowered herself down. He stared at the ceiling as she teased his balls, moaning and lazily stroking his cock as she slapped them, dragged her fingernails over them, squeezed them. Spit on him. He whimpered, teasing the underside of the swollen head of his cock, more, flinching as she spat on him again, gasping as she dug her nails into the sensitive area behind his balls, coaxing himself to the edge and then stopping, building the frustration.

She kissed his hot cheek.

“You’re doing so good,” she murmured into his ear, licking it softly.

Her right hand closed around his left and they edged him together, their fingers laced, her teeth on the curve of his ear and his moan radiating off the tiles. Long, deep strokes, building up the speed. So good. Tight, rapid pace, close, his chest rattling, so close, his eyes rolling back when her hand clamped around the base of his aching cock and squeezed hard, cutting off the high and colliding him into the mental wall, his dismayed cry drowned out by her lips devouring his.

Fuck!

Was he going to get to bust a nut or not?!

“Please, don’t.”

He put on his best pout as she held the Magic-8 ball in front of her body. Still wearing her black seamless panties, but that was it. She was lightly sitting on his thighs, straddling him on the bed as she shook it teasingly.

“Noona, come on…”

“Why not? It’ll be fun.”

She lowered it and Jungkook gasped as the black plastic ball touched his chest, wiggling uncomfortably as she rolled it back and forth. Foreign and cold. It warmed up against his skin. She leaned over him, not adding more pressure, but giving a great full-frontal view with her breasts trapped between her upper arms.

“It won’t be fun for me,” he whined, gripping the sheets tightly.

He reached up to squeeze her breasts, using his left hand, shuddering as he felt her hard nipples against his palm, looking up to see her tongue dance at the edge of her smirk, her tousled hair trailing down her shoulder. That had been the game before. He would ask to have sex. She would shake the Magic-8 ball and get his answer – resulting in twenty-six straight refusals from that evil children’s toy. Unlucky? Maybe. Cursed? More likely. Extra cursed because it was Park Jimin who purchased and gifted her the thing.

Grr.

Jungkook was still pissed about that.

She tilted her head, sending part of her face into delicious shadow.

“We can make it a little game.”

His hand slid down her arm and covered hers.

“No games,” he begged, catching the edge of his lower lip with his teeth. Her eyes shifted down. He was playing all his cards. She muttered under her breath, hah, I love that underlip mole of yours, how can I resist a lip bite, fuck, and those cute, round, big brown eyes… all while lowering herself to him, drawn to his plea, releasing her hold on the Magic-8 ball.

She rolled it on his chest and into his open hand.

“Okay. No games.”

She kissed him again.

A claim to his lips. Soft and insistent, working him into a frenzy, making him grip that hard plastic ball tightly as his breathing shallowed, moaning as her tongue slid in, out, in, out. He felt her hands frame his head, crowning him with her fanned-out fingers. Tingling as her thumb rubbed across his temple. His jaw. His earrings, toying with them, nipping at his lower lip and sucking on it, her warm body settling between his legs, soft to hard, rubbing up against him.

Fuck.

Fuuuuck.

She pulled on his hair roughly and his lip slipped from her teeth due his own whimper, gasping hotly as her kisses danced down his throat, then running her tongue over the trail of kisses. She had a hand planted onto his chest to prevent him from arching his back, lapping at his collarbones daintily as she tugged at a fistful of his still damp hair. Sparks of pain showering down from the crown od head meeting the maddening bliss of her lips on his chest, traveling, decorating his clavicle, each mark of her teeth mirroring the redness of a fallen rose petal.

He tried to lower his chin and shuddered against the hurt, making better and worse at the same time, opening his eyes as she let go of his hair, seeing her sliding down his torso.

That ass.

He felt a nip at his nipple and his breathing hitched, snapping down to see her looking up at him, expression highly amused.

“Pretty nice ass, huh?”

No one said she was humble.

He grinned. “Yeah, I should take a pic and make it my phone background.”

She chuckled, running her tongue over his hard nipple and Jungkook shivered, transfixed by the image and the simultaneous surge of pleasure. He lifted his head higher off the pillow. Shallow breaths, watching, the glossy tip of that dexterous pink muscle against his dark nipple, her lips closing around it, feeling his body stiffen as he felt the sucking sensation vibrate through him. The moan bubbled in his tightened chest as she gently bit, licked, sucked, alternating between the actions. Her fingernails dragged over his sides and flexed abs, electrifying his skin with the pressure. He flinched when she released him and replaced the rough play with kisses, moving across his chest to do the same to his other nipple.

She glanced at him, witnessing his perverse enjoyment with a knowing glint in her eye.

He clutched the Magic-8 ball at his side with in his left hand, falling back into the pillow moaning, writhing slightly as the sucking intensified. Her hand slid down, stroking the inside of his thigh. He could barely feel the side of his half-hard cock brush against the back of her hand.

“F-Fuck… please…”

His entire body jolted when she popped her lips off him and sealed her work with a kiss.

“You’re so impatient, Jungkook,” she hummed, pressing her tongue flat to his nipple and rubbing roughly, saliva sticking to his skin. “So needy.”

His mind was spinning. Blood running hot under his skin, body uncontrollably quivering, clutching the sheets and the Magic-8 ball for dear life. The pent-up arousal was driving him insane but, as a wise man once said, gotaa go insane to stay sane. Or something like that. Jungkook couldn’t remember any wise proverbs right now. He was too horny. She was rising, re-clipping her hair with that cute sheep-shaped claw clip, keeping it out of her smirking face.

“Y-Yes, I am needy… a-ah… please…”

Slipping down, down.

She pressed her palms into the innermost part of his thighs, spreading her fingers over his crotch, and swallowed his cock.

He moaned so loud that Min Yoongi surely heard.

Hey.

No one said Jeon Jungkook was subtle.

Especially when being pleasured.

Immediately his cock swelled at her up-and-down motion that came with tongue and lips and a tight, wet, warm throat that pushed him in as deep as possible. He was always somewhat shocked at how easily she maneuvered him without her hands, preferring instead to use only her mouth to take him all the way to the base and lick at his balls, her constricting throat suffocating the thick head of his cock, and then back up, running the sensitive skin over the roof of her mouth and closing her lips around the tip tighter, teasing the underside of the slit with deft flicks. Then, again, swallowing his growing length, molding her tongue to his girth, slathering saliva over his balls.

God, Jungkook loved the bed suck.

She had an immaculate level of control when giving a blowjob on the bed. He didn’t have to do anything but lay back and relax, occasionally looking down to follow her head movements and see his length glistening in between her plush lips, then collapsing again as the erotic euphoria overtook him again, his chest fluttering with the intensity, his core tightening, lost in lust. He completely forgot the itchiness of his right arm. The colors were brighter under the overhead light and the lotion he had applied right before getting into bed, a sharp contrast to her bare arm against his hip, her elegant hand nestled up his side, her perfect round ass in the air. His pants blending into moans, floating on cloud nine from her tight, soft mouth and agile tongue, wondering how the fuck he got this lucky.

She’s basically a porn star in bed, Park Jimin once said.

She paused when she noticed him watching her again. Extended her pink tongue past her lips, slapping his balls and scooping them up against the base of his cock, raising an eyebrow at him.

Damn.

Truer words had never been spoken.

Then – thankfully – she returned her attention to his cock, except this time it was tighter, faster, and he gasped, feeling her push the head up and force it deeper into her throat when she descended, oh, fuck, he could see her breasts bouncing too, those perfect nipples, damn, obvious wet noises drowned out by the more obscene sounds he was making, crying out, moaning, the pace intense and deliberate and racing, and the only way he could describe it was as if somehow her mouth had become a warm, wet sleeve for his twitching cock, powerfully massaging his length all over, close, his eyes rolling back.

There.

He groaned as he shot into her suffocating throat, wanton and pathetic, finally, his mind going blank, pumping thick cum into that tight pocket and whining as she swallowed, fuck, finally, her pinning his flinching hips down as his shuddering length jerked again, another vicious throb and dripping cum, tears stinging the edge of his vision, gasping out her name as the apex of pleasure consumed his nerves and set them alight.

Fucking finally.

He felt his orgasm squish into the back of her tongue and around the aching head of his cock and he moaned. Long and loud and pornographic. He felt himself twitch in her mouth. She brought him down, slow and wet, a low hum vibrating from her throat to his cock to his core.

Jungkook panted.

Tension shimmered throughout his chest and limbs, keeping him breathless.

Wait.

Her tongue rubbed against the underside of his girth, fanning out along the pulsing, abused head, sending racing sparks over his ass and up his spine.

Wait a second.

Her fingertips glided over his slick balls, squeezing them and making him shudder at the shocking bliss.

I’m still hard.

He yelped, snapping his head down, but it was too late, too late to stop, the afterglow of his last orgasm building towards another, her head sliding up and down, her lips flush to his glossy shaft, him whimpering while he watched, shivering at the lewd image and the idea of back-to-back orgasms, so good, fuck, she looks so good and it feels so fucking amazing, the addictive adrenaline spiking, the lasting buzz radiating all over, oversensitivity increasing the forbidden pleasure, tight and wet and soft, taking him as so deep his balls slapped into her chin, the muscles of his body flexed and tense, hard underneath the soft.

His second orgasm slammed into him.

His head fell back and the pleasure swarmed him, knocking the air out of his lungs, drawing out his lustful moan, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. Her name tumbled out of his lips, praises, swears, her name again, the words mixing together on his confused tongue. She swallowed again, loud to his ears, so obvious, and he trembled all over. The sharp spasm of ecstasy left him rattled, whining, feeling her licking him again but tender, even more gentle this time, slurping around his softening cock, the sensitive skin prickling and pulsating under her warm tongue.

“So… fuck… s-so fucking good…”

Oh, how he loved the feeling of her lips and those kisses feathering his thighs, his crotch, his cock, his balls, shivering in delight, all his previous frustrations making it everything so much more satisfying.

Uh.

He didn’t just think that.

Shit.

“Man, you’re loud.”

“Gah!”

“Hey, Yoongi.”

She planted herself on top of his drenched cock, laying out all over him with her hands on his chest and shoulder. Jungkook gawked at her and then at his hyung standing there at her open bedroom door, looking around at the pastel sheep plushies decorating her room and pausing at the pink bunny and tuxedo cat plush sitting on her desk. Then those dark brown orbs moved back to her ass leaning against Jungkook’s still trembling thigh.

“You could have taken off your panties,” he grumbled in his low voice.

She turned her head to look back at Yoongi. “Sorry. I didn’t think about it since I wasn’t going to get any tonight. I didn’t know you would be watching.”

Her words made Jungkook frown. “What do you mean, you aren’t getting any?”

She faced him again, raising her eyebrows. “What are you talking about? We shouldn’t push it. You’ll get too sweaty.”

“But, noona, that’s not fair, I could…?”

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

“Use you left hand?” Yoongi snorted. “Meh.”

She smiled. “I’ll wait. I can be patient.”

Yeah, well, guess who couldn’t be patient?

As the youngest, he protested. “You could use my thigh. Or… Or my forearm! You like that!”

“No, no. I’m fine with waiting.”

“You’re doing this on purpose! You’re torturing me by not letting me feel you cum!”

Jungkook paled as his hyung and noona grinned at the same time. Deviously. In unison. Scary as fuck. Yoongi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his long black hair framing his cunning eyes and open-mouthed smirk, serving every bit the allegations of being sex on legs. Jungkook trembled as he felt her trail her fingers along the base of his neck, sensually rubbing his collarbone. Thumb on one side, four fingers on the other. Not moving up but reminding him nonetheless.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” she drawled.

They were in cahoots.

Not that Jungkook minded.

That was how he got this lucky in the first place.

The Magic-8 ball rested against his naked hip, the window reading, without a doubt.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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shebeafancyflapjack · 4 years ago

Text

King Takes Knight (Part 6)

Eleanor has a choice.

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

“Okay. If you’re gonna do this. You need to have a plan.”

Eleanor closes the door to Michael’s office. Funny, she still thinks of it as his, even when she’s spent more time occupying it alone so far this year. She tries to avoid being here alone. It’s far too painful to sit in the big chair and watch the door, wishing with all her heart that the dumb demon will waltz back in, safe and sound, at any moment.

She walks across the room and around the desk. His jacket is still thrown over the back of the chair from when he quickly got changed between Mindy’s and the train station. The stains from Glenn’s goo seem to have evaporated.

There’s a tug in her chest as she strokes the fabric.

“I have a plan! I’m gonna lift the barricade up, disguise myself as a Bad Janet, go in, find Michael and get him out. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Fun fact, a man named John White invented the lemon squeezer because they’re not easy to squeeze at all-.”

“Okay, no, that plan sucks. It’s exactly what they’ll expect because it’s what you already did. You can’t go in there on your own.”

Janet frowns; “Are you going to suggest you guys come too? Because as you said, that’s the last thing Michael would want, for you guys to be put in danger. I’m not mortal, the threat to my wellbeing is less of a risk, and you can always ask the Judge for a reset in the event of a second capture.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that...But we’re not your only option.” Eleanor says, looking over to Derek in the corner, licking a light bulb like a popsicle.

Her hands pick the jacket up. She holds it close to her front, inhaling the scent in the collar. That strange smell she always picked up whenever near to Michael, like something out of an old attic and yet sweeter than chocolate and warm like a nearby bonfire tickles her nose.

Fingers curl tightly into the grey wool. She doesn’t want this to be the most she has left of him anymore. She wants him back.

The doofus had one job to do for her and he couldn’t...

Eleanor sighs and slips her arms into the jacket before taking a seat in the chair. It’s far too big for her, almost like an overcoat or a bathrobe. She wraps it tight around her frame as she slumps back in the seat. Something about wearing it makes her feel as if he’s there, the same reason why she always takes one of Chidi’s sweaters to bed with her, like a needy kid with a security blanket.

All her life she secretly dreamed of having at least one person to truly love her. Then two come along at once and they both end up sacrificing themselves.

Couldn’t she have fallen in love with someone as selfish as her?

“Hey Eleanor.” Janet bings in front of the desk.

She jumps, starting a little, pulling her face out of the collar she had been close to crying into.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” She hurriedly covers, sitting up straight, attempting some semblance of dignity; “W-what’s up?”

“I’ve finished making enough Janet babies I need to take with me. They’re all boarded on the train, including the clones of you guys. Even I gotta say, they’re pretty creepy. But great idea!”

Eleanor just nods, fingers tapping the desk. If she couldn’t come with Janet on the rescue mission then the best she could do was lend her strategic skills.

“And the demon exploders?” Thanks for that, Bad Janet.

“I think I was able to improve on the design after examining the one Michael handed to me before he...” She cuts herself off, “We’ll be fine, Eleanor. I made quite a few in case they rumble us.”

“If you have to, be sure to burst a few for me, won’t you.” She tells her sexy not-robot friend; “And please...be safe, babe.”

And bring him back, she doesn’t say, almost as if it was asking too much.

It doesn’t need saying.

“We’ll be back before you know it. Literally, because you won’t be alerted of my train coming in with me gone and Derek’s sensor is busted.”

She bings out of the room. Eleanor sits back again, arms wrapped around herself and the jacket. Now she’s back to where she was a few months ago, wishing for her friends safe return, while the fate of humanity hangs in the balance. She has no choice. She has to stay. Put the experiment first. It’s what Michael and Chidi both sacrificed themselves for. It would be insulting them if she were to make it all for nothing.

It must be a trick.

They’ve got bored of the freezing and the hooks and the violent fish. Now they wanna screw up his head. He already hallucinates, isn’t that enough? He would normally think this was just another one of those but...Nicole’s goo drips from his nose. Yep, she definitely blew up.

And there, almost a yard behind her, is....the Impossible.

Eleanor stands with Bad Janet’s demon exploder clutched in her hand, arms straightened in front of her, blue goo from other demons staining her red sweater and the black leather jacket he hasn’t seen her wear in a while. Sneaky little so-and-so. Did she really come all the way down here, shooting her way through immortal guards, to...rescue...him...?

He would laugh, if the wave of exhaustion wasn’t crushing him down, as well as the wires in his mouth. It’s too much. He’s held out for far too long and now his mind has snapped.

Don’t fall for it, Mike. Don’t give them the satisfaction of hoping.

She wanted him gone. Out of her hair for good. She wanted him to-

His body goes slack in his ice chains as the underworld goes dark.

He loves you.

He lied.

He loves you.

He tortured them for centuries and lied about it, over eight hundred times.

He loves you.

He didn’t trust her enough to say what he really was underneath the suit. He thought she was shallow enough to not want to be friends with him after finding out he’s some giant flaming squid. He was supposed to be her best friend! Did he think so little of her? After all those weeks of supporting her, encouraging her, giving her a shoulder to cry on, followed by a gentle kick up the ash to get her shirt together?

And as if she was going to be all soft and reassure him of how much he meant to her after the crab he put her through that night. He expected her to be the one to apologise!?

He loves you.

You must know that. You’re not an idiot.

Oh...the stupid demon loves her enough to disobey her one order and not come back safe! The stupid demon offers to blow himself up in order to give her peace of mind when she doesn’t trust him and leave her in charge of this shirt show on her own. The dumb, reckless ash-hole stayed behind to be tortured, again, for their sakes...Not for the first time.

Fork. She is an idiot!

Eleanor shrugs off the jacket and grabs her own leather one off the back of the door. She has a train to catch.

Damn it, why didn’t she take a better coat with her? Or a scarf? Or gloves?

The chamber she discovers Michael in is like a huge igloo. Every surface seems to be made of ice except, thank Kim, the floor, or else she’d be falling flat on her ass as soon as she strode in after taking out the slutty demoness who had been messing with Michael. Eleanor steels herself, braving the cold and letting the adrenaline warm her up after having snuck her way down here, taking out a few necessary obstacles on the way with her new favorite toy.

Her heart beats terribly fast as she spots Michael chained up, pale as a ghost, slumped in the shackles they’ve put him in. His clothes are ragged and torn up, the wounds from where he’s been recently cut and sliced and scalded all too evident to the naked eye.

“Michael...!” She breathes his name as she reaches him, finding no response as his head rolls forward; “Michael, I’m here! Wake up!”

She puts her hands to his chin and tries to lift it up, cringing at the awful sight of what they’ve done to his mouth. Jesus!

Digging around in what remains of the slutty demon’s goo and dress fragments, she eventually finds the key to the shackles. She fumbles with it in the locks as she works to set him free.

As she works to open the second one, she drops it. Fuck! Get it together, Shellstrop! They could come in at any moment!

She scoops it up and turns it in the blisteringly cold metal.

Michael tumbles to the ground in a heap of long limbs.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Eleanor curses as she fails to catch up, the dumb tree too much for her to attempt to lift upright on her own. She kneels over him; “Dude, c’mon! Come on, get up! Michael!”

Her fingers brush against her cheek and-

“FUCK!” She curses, pulling her hand back.

He’s almost too cold to touch. There’s flecks of snow on his eyelashes and in his white hair, lines on his face deeper than she remembers, skin sunken in, littered with black and purple marks.

Eleanor places one hand on his back, the other on his chest, just barely able to keep hold of him with the remnants of his shirt beneath her palms.

She wishes she could feel his heartbeat, if he had one.

Just some sign, anything, anything at all...that he’s going to open his eyes again. That she wasn’t too late.

“Michael, you need to get up! You can’t bail on me now, please, not after I finally got here! You gotta come home, dude....I can’t do this without you. Just wake the fuck up before-.” Her teeth start to chatter as she hears footsteps racing from outside.

Someone’s coming. More guards? The Janet baby army? A couple were lost on the way, marbleised, before Eleanor was able to zap the guards. Then she had to abandon the rest in order to get to the location Janet sent over the intercom to one of her baby’s, Ralfio’s, mouth.

Eleanor has no idea what’s about to come through that door. Friend or foe. Janet(s) or demons.

She’s not giving up now.

Keeping hold of Michael on her lap, she sets her jaw, getting out the demon exploder from her jacket pocket, firing it up.

“I won’t let them touch you, bud. Not again.” She whispers, clutching his lifeless skinsuit close to her front; “That’s a promise.”

Her hand is steady around the weapon, her eyes glaring with hellfire at the entrance. She forgets about the cold.

Just try to take him away from me again, demon scum. Just try it.

(illustration by @star-pepper xx)

#whump #angst #rescue #tgp fanfic #i will beta this before it goes on ao3 #i wasn't expecting a plot it just happened #tgp fanart

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animeniacss · 4 years ago

Text

A Palette of Emotions - Artist!Taehyung x Teacher!Reader - Chapter 6 - Art Class

Synopsis: Taehyung dreams of being a professional and famous artist one day, but finds that the sea of creativity can be lurking with blood hungry sharks, as well as bland, motionless starfish. Swimming through the sea of opportunities somehow washed him up onto the shore of Bright Star Preschool, as an art teacher. This wasn’t where he expected to be 4 years into his career, but anything to get his big break though, right?

Feat. BTS, TXT, ITZY, Jisoo (BlackPink), Taeyong (NCT)

Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, School Setting, Working!AU

Length: approx. 5.2k words

Chapter 6 - Art Class

Taehyung had to admit, he was excited for the first day. Decorating the welcome banner with the kids through painting was something that everyone seemed to get behind, especially the kids. Taehyung looked around, holding a clipboard in his hands as he headed towards the paint. He still had a few things left to set up, but he wanted to learn their names so he could get started. As he was fumbling about, Hoseok tapped his shoulder.

“I’ll set up the rest of the paint, go meet the kids.” He said happily, grinning. Taehyung nodded, hurrying back towards the group of children anxiously waiting for their instructions.

“Okay,” Taehyung said, plopping himself right beside Yuna, who was grinning ear to ear. “I’ll take attendance so I can learn everyone’s name.”

“You already know my name,” Yuna interjected, and Taehyung smiled.

“I know I do.”

“Well, my name is Kai!” Kai said quickly, lifting his hand.

“I’m Yeonjun!” Before Taehyung knew it, the kids were eagerly shouting out their names in hopes that Taehyung could remember them. As he looked around as the shouting children, he laughed a bit, somewhat out of amusement, but mostly out of nervousness. He had no idea how to settle these kids, and he didn’t want to mess up day one. However, a loud clap rang through the room and it all went silent almost immediately. You could almost hear a pin drop. The kids looked towards the sound of the clap, as did Taehyung, and saw none other than Hoseok. This was the first time Taehyung saw Hoseok with anything other than a grin on his face, as a stern frown stood in its usual spot.

“Boys and girls, you’re being very rude shouting at Mr. Kim! He can’t learn all your names if you all yell them at once! I don’t know if Teacher will be happy if she comes back and finds out you’re already being rude, huh?”

“…Yes, Mr. Hobi…” The kids mumbled, shifting back to their sitting positions. Hoseok nodded.

“Good. Now listen, or there’s not going to be any painting.” Taehyung saw Hoseok look at him, and almost as quickly as the clap, Hoseok’s grin returned on his face. “There you go.”

“Uh, thank you…” Taehyung nodded. “Okay…” Lifting his clipboard, he began to read off the names. Students such as Yeji, Soobin, Taehyun, and Yuna, provided polite little greetings and hellos, while rambunctious students such as Beomgyu, Kai, and Ryujin were throwing their hands up with a great big cheer and an even greater big hello. It made Taehyung smile. “Alright, so today I just want to learn about who you all are. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other. So, what’s a better way than finger painting?” The kids gasped, a few having to cover their mouths to avoid whispering about how excited they were. “Mr. Hobi is putting all of the paint into plates that we’ll have on the floor for you to use, but we need to make sure we’re keeping the paint on this paper okay?” Taehyung pointed to the paper. “Everyone put your hands on it.” The kids immediately leaned forward, their hands slapping onto the paper. “Say ‘I’m going to keep the paint on the paper!’”

“I’M GOING TO KEEP THE PAINT ON THE PAPER!” The sea of children screamed in unison, grinning. Taehyung chuckled as he got up.

“Perfect.” Taehyung stood up, walking over to Hoseok, who was beginning to set paper plates full of different colored paints on the floor, giving the children easy access to a wide variety of colors. “I want you to decorate the entire banner, then when it dries, we can hang it back up!” The kids wasted no time, sticking their hands in the colorful goo before smearing it across the white banner before them. Taehyung stood above the children, watching as they scribbled and drew whatever came to mind as far as their arms could reach. As he walked past Chaeryeong, he plopped down beside her, making her lookup. “What are you making?”

“I’m making a princess.” She said, pointing to the crudely drawn figure, whose head was slightly too big for the dainty dress, yet whose twig arms and legs shot out of the dress like arrows being fired from their bow.

“Oh, a princess. She just needs her crown.” Taehyung pointed to the little spot above her head, and Chaeryeong nodded, pointing to the yellow paint that was currently being used by Yeonjun and Jisu, who made sure to include that she preferred to go by her nickname Lia.

“I’m waiting.” She said happily. Taehyung smiled a bit as he got up, continuing to watch the rest of the kids as they painted. With every step he took, every enjoyable squeal and giggle coming from the mouths of these children, the color was spreading all over the page, personality and imagination pouring out of the hands of preschoolers. As he passed by Seokjin, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re doing a great job.” He said. “This project is a great introduction for everyone and it’s going to look cute when it dries.” Taehyung felt as if a huge weight fell off of his shoulders, and he grinned.

“Thank you.” He said. “I’m just glad that the children like this.”

“These kids never finger paint,” Hoseok said. “It’s too messy.” Taehyung raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Yeah, that’s the point.” He said. “I’ll never understand why she’s such a stickler for that stuff.” Suddenly, it happened.

“Oops.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Mr. Kim!”

“You’re in so much trouble, Yeonjunie…” These scattered mutters of stunned children were suddenly overshadowed by a sound of light sniffling. When the three teachers looked in the direction of the noise, their eyes widened. Chaeryeong was sitting in front of her picture of the princess, and Taehyung immediately noticed the problem. On top of her adorable pink princess was a splatter of yellow paint. Not only that, but her little preschool uniform was covered in the yellow goo as well, some of it tangled in the tips of her hair. Yeonjun sat beside her, eyes widened. His hands were covered with yellow paint, lifted in Chaeryeong’s direction. He immediately looked towards the teachers, watching as Taehyung walked over.

“I didn’t mean to…” he said softly. “I just turned to fast. I promise…” Taehyung could hear the trembling in his voice as he knelt beside the whimpering and sniffling Chaeryeong.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently. She looked up at him, sniffling.

“He flicked me with my paint and ruined my picture!” She hiccupped, unable to control her tears.

“No!” Yeonjun said quickly. “It was an accident!” Taehyung scanned the rest of the children, who were staring intensely at the scene before them, wanting to know what the outcome would be. Taehyung leaned over to one of the tables, grabbing a little box of tissues. He pulled a few out and handed them to the sniffling little girl.

“Wipe yourself up, okay?” He said gently. “I’ll tell your teacher and we can get you cleaned up…” Chaeryeong, finding herself calmed by Taehyung’s deep and gentle voice, took the tissues and attempted to clean herself up. Taehyung used a tissue to get some of the paint out of her hair before it began to dry. “There we go.” The two of them looked down at her pink princess, the adorable drawing now given a slash of yellow paint across the dress, strawberry lemonade instead of just an adorable little strawberry. “Do you want to remake your princess on another part of the banner?” Chaeryeong nodded, wiping her eyes.

“Mhm…” she said softly. Taehyung nodded, offering his hand to her. The little girl put her hand in his and got up, following him to a different part of the banner, where there was still an ample amount of room for her to redo her picture. When she sank back down onto the floor, she leaned towards a plate of red paint, dipping her fingers inside as she got right back to work. Taehyung still noticed her glossy eyes and could see she was still upset and embarrassed about what happened. His eyes immediately lifted to Yeonjun, who was turned to Hoseok, trying to explain himself. He too had glossy eyes and a quivering lip.

“It was an accident, Mr. Hobi, promise.” He choked out. Hoseok nodded.

“I know but we need to be careful,” Hoseok said gently, motioning to the abandoned picture. “See what happens when we don’t listen to the rules?” Yeonjun nodded.

“…What should you say?” Taehyung asked, making both Hoseok and Yeonjun look at him. When he noticed the slight confusion on the child’s face, he offered a slight smile. “What do you say when you do something wrong?”

“…Sorry, Chaeryeong,” Yeonjun called. The little girl looked up.

“It’s okay…” she said. “I made her dress even bigger now…” Yeonjun leaned forward slightly from the other side of the banner to try and take a look. “I’m not sad no more.” She assured, grinning a bit. Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his hair as the children finally got back to work.

“That’s just one of the millions of issues you’ll come across, I’m sure,” Seokjin said, patting Taehyung on the shoulder with a supportive grip. “They’re a handful, but they’re good.”

“I guess she did teach them well, huh?” Taehyung chuckled a bit. As he continued to walk around, his eyes continued to check the time. He still needed to gauge how much time it would take for the kids to get cleaned up and ready to be sent back to you before you returned from down the hall.

He had no idea what kind of process he was in for.

----------------------------------------

When you walked into the room after a good forty minutes of silent lesson planning, you had no idea what to expect. How would Taehyung’s first day go, providing children who still could barely count past their ten fingers paint to dip those fingers in? You wanted to sneak a peek many a time as you typed days of lessons away, however, you didn’t want to seem pushy. So, as soon as your alarm went off, you shut down your computer and hopped out of your seat and practically rushed out of the classroom, having to slow your pace just slightly the closer you got to the next room. As you got closer and closer, the sound of children giggling and squealing could be heard.

“Yeonjun did you wash your hands?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Ryujin!”

“Oh, I forgot!”

“I said it three times, you’re the only one who is in line with dirty hands.”

“Mr. Kim, look! I’m helping Mr. Hobi! Does that mean I get to put another thumbprint by my name?”

“Don’t do that, Kai! Now you need to wash your hands again, just look at them!”

“Oh yeah…”

The sound of Taehyung’s voice frantically scrambling to clean the kids up was amusing. It even made a cocky grin form on your face. You had to see this chaos with your own eyes, you just couldn’t help it. Finally, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. Upon entering, you saw a line of children standing in front of the sink. Taehyung was helping them scrub their hands with soap and water, while those who were done were told to line up by the door and wait. The keyword here was told. You could see a few kids ready to go, such as Yeji and Taehyun, however, Yeonjun and Kai were standing by the table where Hoseok was cleaning up some of the paint plates, tossing them into the garbage while he put the closed bottles into a cabinet.

“Can we help?” Yeonjun asked curiously.

“No. What were you told to do?”

“But I wanna help.”

“Yeonjun.”

“….Okay…” He pouted, finally sulking with his friend off to the line. When he saw you standing at the door, his eyes lit up. “Teacher!” He shouted. Just hearing that turned your cocky grin into a beaming on, as you knelt to see five students surround you.

“How was the art class?” You asked curiously.

“We painted that whole banner! Look what I made!” Kai took your hand, leading you along with the other children to the banner that was moved to the corner of the room to dry. “I write my name, and that parts me!”

“That’s so good.” You said happily, kneeling. “You’ve gotten better at writing your name, haven’t you?” Kai nodded, grinning proudly. He nestled himself into your arms and continued to show you things he made before you gently reminded him that it was time to let someone else have a turn. Kai nodded, remaining in your embrace as more kids approached. A few other children took your hand into theirs, wide eyes eagerly pointing to the stuff that they created. You tried to listen to one at a time, but they were all so excited to share with you that you ended up having to listen to 14 conversations at once. As you were doing so, you looked over to see Chaeryeong take your hand. When you got a good look, you immediately noticed the faded yellow paint on her uniform and the drying water that was washed over it. “W-what on earth happened to your uniform?”

“Yeonjunie spilled yellow paint all over Chaeryeong’s dress, Teacher.” Yuna quickly cut in, her head poking into your view as she took your hand. You blinked, immediately turning towards Taehyung, who was just now finally turning off the water at the sink. The faint voice of little Yeonjun once again trying to defend himself was heard, but you chose to ignore him, instead of heading towards Taehyung as he wiped down the sink with a paper towel.

“I told you this would happen if you used to paint.” You hissed under your breath. Taehyung didn’t look up at you, simply continuing to clean as if you were not there.

“I don’t plan for the negatives, unlike you. It was the only thing that happened and they had fun. What’s the big deal?”

“Now her uniform is cover in yellow paint. I have extra changes of clothes; I could’ve gotten that stain out if you sent her back earlier.”

“She wanted to keep painting. Besides, all the paint comes out in the wash. I handled it; she’ll be fine until she goes home.” You scoffed. Before you could continue to release your anger at Taehyung, Hoseok quickly approached you.

“Hey, don’t worry. It wasn’t that big of a deal.” He assured, offering you a hopeful smile. “If you want, I’ll explain to her mom later. It was an accident.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“I just don’t want her spending the day in dirty clothes. It can be uncomfortable.”

“She hasn’t complained,” Taehyung assured. Your eyebrow twitched, and Taehyung was quick to notice. “But I understand where you’re coming from.” He said quickly.

“Let’s just get them back.” You said simply, turning your attention once again back to Taehyung. “Thank you.” You walked back to the front of the line, gently offering your hand to Chaeryeong. “What do we say to Mr. Kim, everyone?” The group of kids turned to Taehyung, who was still holding that wet paper towel in his hand. They bowed in his direction, before standing up.

“Thank you, Mr. Kim!” They cheered, beaming. Taehyung blinked, feeling an overwhelming feeling overtake his chest, a feeling of overwhelming happiness and…honor? He wasn’t too sure what that other feeling was, all he knew was that he felt so happy to have spent the past 40 minutes finger painting. You took a moment to study his face, before letting out a soft sigh.

“You should come out to the playground at the end of the day. I’m sure the kids would love to play with you and see them off.” You offered. Taehyung blinked, the sound of scattered gasps of excitement filling the room for a moment before Hoseok quickly encouraged them to stay silent.

“Uh. Yeah, sure. That sounds fun.” He smiled. You nodded.

“See you then.” You said, “Let’s go, everyone.” As you headed out, a few kids offered quick and scattered goodbyes to Taehyung once again, grinning.

“Bye~.” Hoseok waved, following the kids out. Taehyung watched them go.

“Teacher, Mr. Kim said we all got good day thumbprints. If we get 10, we get a prize!” Yuna said as she followed behind you in line.

“Wow, I can’t wait to hear all about it back in the classroom.” You said, before disappearing around the corner, each kind following behind with every step that was taken. Once they were gone, Seokjin closed the door, leaving him and Taehyung as the only two in the room.

“Day one is complete.” He cheered, clapping his hands. “Congratulations.”

“Was she upset that I used the paint?” He asked.

“I don’t think so. She’s more upset that you used paint and fewer kids got messy.” Seokjin grinned. “She’ll come around. You keep doing what you’re doing and the kids are going to have a great time.” Taehyung nodded. “I need to get back to my office, but let me know if you need anything okay?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you.” Taehyung said. Seokjin nodded.

“Awesome. Go take your lunch and rest. You’ve earned it. Mr. Kim.” Seokjin chuckled to himself, before finally excusing himself and walking out of the room. Taehyung walked to his desk, sinking back in his chair. Finally, he got to take in the past forty minutes that he had just experienced, from the hectic attendance to the even more hectic clean up. A chuckle escaped his lips as he lifted his phone, turning it on to see multiple texts for Jimin from the past forty minutes. 4 texts to be exacted.

Have a good day! Fighting! (12:25 p.m.)

Call me when you can! (12:45 p.m.)

Let me know if you find Namjoon-Hyung’s son! He’s super cute. His name is Kai! (12:59 p.m.)

You dead yet? (1:15 p.m.)

Taehyung snickered, finally opening up his messages and being sure to reply with a simple thumbs-up emoji. After that, he tossed his phone onto his desk and reached into his bag for his lunch. He hadn’t realized until the kids left that he was starving, his attention was 100% dedicated to them.

And he didn’t care in the least.

------------------------------------------

The rest of the day went smoothly, the children had gotten their art out of their systems and were ready to move onto the rest of the afternoon lessons. The kids gathered around and spoke to you about the art class. They told you about the paint incident, the behavior chart, the prizes, anything they could think of. Kids even repeated things that their friends said, that was how excited they were about the new class. It made you happy to see them buzzing with all of this excitement, but that happiness came with a feeling of incompetence. No matter what you did with them they never once left arts and crafts that excited. At least, it had been awhile.

Fortunately, you had absolutely no time to dwell on that, instead of moving to a math lesson. Hoseok and you gathered the children up to play a basic counting game. Teams were created and given a pile of blocks. You would call out a number between one and ten and the teams would have to count out those exact number of blocks to get a point. The slight competitive edge kept the kids engaged, and it was enjoyable watching as they cheered and worked together as best as they could to make sure they could get the point. However, having a slight competitive edge almost always guaranteed one thing: tears. Lots of tears.

“But I wanted to win a prize, Teacher.” A sniffling Soobin sniffled. “I tried my hardest; I did.” You smiled as the little boy curled himself into your embrace. Hoseok was giving the winning team, consisting of Yeji, Yeonjun, and Beomgyu, pieces of candy that you stored away for moments like this.

“I know you did. There’s always next time, right?” Soobin, normally a bit more sensitive boy despite his high levels of independence, was just overcome with sadness about his defeat. He sniffling, hugging you tightly as he continued to whimper. “Awww, Soobin, don’t cry. Nobody else is sad.”

“Yes, they are. Kai tolded me so.” He huffed, crossing his arms. You smiled, your eyes wandering up to Hoseok. You both offered each other a slightly amused glance.

“Soobin, how about we move onto the next thing okay? No need to be upset. Tomorrow, we can play again if you want too.”

“Promise?” he asked. You nodded, patting his head. Soobin nodded, wiping his eyes before finally returning to his seat. With that situated, you stood up and dusted off your skirt.

“Okay. Are we ready to move on everyone?” The class nodded their heads, looking up at you as they waited for their next set of instructions. You could see Soobin continue to wipe his eyes, before Hoseok walked past and handed him a tissue, kneeling to help him wipe his face. “I need everyone to stand up next to their seats.” You said. “We’re going to dance.”

---------------------------------------

The sound of rustling backpacks was heard as children finally began gathering their belongings. You were cleaning up, while Hoseok was beginning to get what he needed to wipe down tables and chairs. The kids were lined up, the straps of their bags locked tightly in their grips. You were just glad today was coming to a close, the mental exhaustion you were putting yourself through today was just hitting you differently than normal.

“Are we ready to go outside?” You asked.

“Is Mr. Kim going to come to play with us?” Yuna asked curiously.

“I’m not sure.” You admitted.

“Can I go ask him?”

“Me too!” Kai said. You sighed, leaning out the door to see the art room door was closed. You looked down at the two little kids, who stood at the door with their hands interlocked together. If you didn’t let them, you didn’t think you would hear the end of it. You couldn’t handle that today.

“Okay, fine.” You said, motioning to the room. Immediately, the duo began to run down the hall. “Walk in the hallways!” You shouted before they finally slowed down. You watched the duo knock on the door. It took a moment, but when it opened Taehyung poked his head out.

“Mr. Kim, can you come to play with us?” Kai asked curiously. Taehyung chuckled, looking over at you, however, you were now kneeling and helping Yeji fix the straps on her bag.

“Sure. I’ll be right out, okay?” He said to the little ones. They beamed in excitement. “Now, hurry back to your teacher and get ready, okay?”

“Okay!” They said together as they hurried back to your line.

“He said he’ll come.” Yuna hummed happily before she got into the line. You chuckled to yourself, watching as Taehyung closed the door to his room again. By now, the children were ready to go, and you lead them out to the playground to wait for their parents. The sound of children discarding their bags as they hurried to the equipment overtook the area, and you rested against the wall, crossing your arms. Hoseok followed behind shortly after. Shortly after that, you saw Taehyung walk out onto the field.

“So, is this when they leave?” Taehyung asked you curiously.

“Yeah.” You said. “Hoseok usually plays with them and I usually watch everyone. Sometimes Mr. Kim comes out too, but most of the kids get picked up pretty quickly.” Taehyung nodded. Before he could say anything else, his name was called by Yuna and Chaeryeong, standing at the top of the playground.

“Look!” Yuna shouted eagerly. Taehyung smiled, putting his hands in his pockets as he walked over to the playground.

“The kids seem to like him,” Hoseok said, looking over at you. You sighed.

“I know they do. I’m glad they do, I guess. I want them to like going to art class.” Hoseok chuckled.

“You don’t seem convinced.” He said. “Just relax. You’re going to get stress wrinkles.” You had to admit, that made you chuckle. “See? Smile more. He’s not doing anything bad, is he?”

“No. I guess not.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m just-.” Before you could begin to vent, a car pulled up to the front of the school. It parked and you knew exactly who it was. Kim Namjoon. When he stepped out of the car, Hoseok went to find Kai, who was with his friends sitting beside the swing set looking at whatever bugs they could find in the grass. Kim Namjoon pulled his glasses off his face and he set them in his jacket pocket, locking his car as he walked up to you. You stood straight and smiled a bit.

“Hey.” He said happily. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” You said. Namjoon smiled, unable to hold up an awkward chuckle. “How are you after that little stumble on your car this morning?” Namjoon groaned, scratching his head as he thought back to it.

“Aaah, come on now.” He muttered. “Don’t remind me, that was so embarrassing.”

“I thought it was kinda funny.” You admitted, smiling a bit. Namjoon put his hands in his pockets and let out another playful, yet still frustrated sigh, which made you laugh.

“Changing the subject, Jimin told me that you guys got your new art teacher today.” He said, looking around. He took a moment to scan the playground. Finally, his eyes landed on Taehyung, who was still watching the girls go down the slide, a small smile on his face. “Is that him?” he asked.

“The one and only.” You hummed. Namjoon nodded.

“He looks familiar.”

“He’s pretty popular on Instagram.” Namjoon looked over at you.

“Instagram? N-no, no that’s not where I recognize him from, come on.” You both chuckle a bit. “But he looks familiar.” You were silent for a moment, watching as Namjoon scanned Taehyung from a distance. After a moment, he snickered and ran a hand through his brown hair. “Aaaah, it’ll come to me.” He said. “Anyway, we need to get going. I have a meeting with a client tonight and I need to get Kai ready, Jungkook is coming over tonight.” You nodded. “But I’ll be free these next few weekends. I’d like to take you out to dinner.” He said. You smiled a bit.

“Well that’s nice but I-.”

“She would love to!” A high-pitched voice shouted form behind you, startling both you and Namjoon. It even caught Taehyung’s attention for a moment. A pair of large hands hit your shoulders, and you looked over to see Seokjin, standing behind you with a grin. “Hello, Namjoonie~.” Seokjin grinned. Namjoon blushed, smiling a bit.

“Mr. Kim, stop getting involved with my life.” You begged.

“I will when you finally settle down and get married. Now, that won’t happen unless you go on dates. So, Namjoon, she would love to. Just pick a date and I’ll make sure she’s there.”

“Mr. Kim-.” You groaned, watching as Seokjin approached Namjoon, greeting him with a tough handshake. “I’ll call you later. Good luck with your meeting.”

“Thanks,” Namjoon said. He turned his head. “Kai!” He shouted. “Get your stuff and get in the car. Jungkook is coming over tonight.”

“YAY!” Kai shouted, hopping up. He quickly said goodbye to his friends as he hurried to the pile of bags by the door. Namjoon finally turned back to you, seeing your cheeks tinted pink as you ran a hand through your hair.

“I’ll call you.” He assured. You nodded.

“I look forward to it.” You said, forcing a small smile onto your face. Namjoon nodded, saying goodbye to his friend before leading his son to the car. As you watched them get in, Seokjin turned to you, grinning. However, you were in no way planning to grin back. “I hate you.”

“Awww, you’ll thank me on your wedding day.” He scoffed, before quickly fleeing the scene and hurrying back into his office.

“Wha-. You’re leaving already?!” You shouted, turning back to him. “Then why did you come out?!”

“I saw Namjoonie’s car pull up from my window!” Seokjin called back. “You’re welcome!” You groaned, covering your face in hopes that the scream you wanted to rip from your throat would just stay there for a little bit longer. As you finally returned your attention to the children, Taehyung walked over to you.

“Is that your boyfriend?” He asked. Just the sound of that word made your face beam a red that not even the children’s paint could rival.

“What?! NO! Mind your business.” You quickly looked away, crossing your arms in an annoyed huff. Taehyung chuckled a bit.

“Alright, alright sorry. He had such puppy love in his eyes I just had to assume.” You looked at Taehyung. “It was cute. I thought I was looking at a painting or something.”

“Oh, shut up.” You scoffed, and once again. Taehyung let out a deep and amused laugh. You waked towards the front gate of the building, and Taehyung watched you silently, his hands in his pockets. More parents were beginning to pull up for their children. Good, you needed to get your mind off all of this crap.

You changed your mind. Kim Taehyung was doing something bad. He was being just as nosy as your kids, and that was the last thing that you needed. That nosy punk.

------------------------------------------

“Kook!” Kai shouted eagerly as the tall young adult walked into the living room of Kim’s luxury apartment. Namjoon was quick to follow, watching as Kai jumped into Jungkook’s arms.

“Hello there, little monster. Ready to have some fun tonight and stay up at midnight eating ice cream and cookies?”

“Yeaaa!” Kai giggled. Namjoon sighed, patting Jungkook on the back. When Jungkook looked over, he grinned sheepishly.

“I’m only kidding, Mr. Kim.”

“I know you are.” He admitted. “But maybe save the ice cream and cookie night for the next time you come over, okay?” Jungkook blinked as he watched Namjoon lift his son from his arms, as his tiny arms wrapped around him to give his father a great big hug.

“Another meeting?” Jungkook asked curiously. Namjoon shook his head, rubbing his son’s back.

“Not this time.” He said with a grin. He thought back to the way your eyes closed into little half-moons when you laughed at his slip up this morning. He thought back to the high-pitched laughter you had as you both spoke about it, and how hard Namjoon tried to keep that laughter going as long as he possibly could. Seeing you smile like that made all of his clumsy moment worth it, and he would be willing to do a million more just to see you laugh again. Knowing what this afternoon’s event has now begun to lead up to only got him even more excited. “I have another date coming up.”

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whatisthiswitchcraft · 5 years ago

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books I read in 2019 (not including rereads, favorites are bolded!)

Come Close - Sappho

Shanghai Baby - Wei Hui

Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair - Pablo Neruda

Bad Feminist: Essays - Roxane Gay

The Mother of Black Hollywood: A Memoir - Jenifer Lewis

Sula - Toni Morrison

Reinventing the Enemy’s Language: Contemporary Native Women’s Writings of North America - ed. Joy Harjo and Gloria Bird

How to Write an Autobiographical Novel - Alexander Chee

Night Sky With Exit Wounds - Ocean Vuong

If They Come For Us - Fatimah Asghar

Heart Berries: A Memoir - Terese Marie Mailhot

Less - Andrew Sean Greer

The Astonishing Color of After - Emily X.R. Pan

Goodbye, Vitamin - Rachel Khong

Darius the Great is Not Okay - Adib Khorram

Exit West - Mohsin Hamid

Homegirls and Handgrenades - Sonia Sanchez

Heavy: An American Memoir - Keise Laymon

All You Can Ever Know - Nicole Chung

Unaccustomed Earth - Jhumpa Lahiri

The Wife Between Us - Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen

The Way You Make Me Feel - Maureen Goo

A Very Large Expanse of Sea - Tahereh Mafi

Water By the Spoonful - Quiara Alegría Hudes

I Can’t Date Jesus: Love, Sex, Family, Race, and Other Reasons I’ve Put My Faith in Beyoncé - Michael Arceneaux

Bury It - Sam Sax

White Dancing Elephants - Chaya Bhuvaneswar

Pulp - Robin Talley

Shit is Real - Aisha Franz

Silencer - Marcus Wicker

Forget Sorrow: An Ancestral Tale - Belle Yang

Bestiary: Poems - Donika Kelly

Monster Portraits - Sofia Samatar

No Matter the Wreckage - Sarah Kay

Violet Energy Ingots - Hoa Nguyen

Olio - Tyehimba Jess

The Kane Chronicles: The Serpent’s Shadow - Rick Riordan

There Are More Beautiful Things Than Beyoncé - Morgan Parker

Nylon Road: A Graphic Memoir of Coming of Age in Iran - Parsua Bashi

The Wedding Date - Jasmine Guillory

Fruit of the Drunken Tree - Ingrid Rojas Contreras

An American Marriage - Tayari Jones

Family Trust - Kathy Wang

Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture - ed. Roxane Gay

Little & Lion - Brandy Colbert

A Girl Like That - Tanaz Bhathena

Suicide Club: A Novel About Living - Rachel Heng

The Disturbed Girl’s Dictionary - NoNieqa Ramos

My Old Faithful: Stories - Yang Huang

Crazy Rich Asians - Kevin Kwan

Girls Burn Brighter - Shobha Rao

Moon of the Crusted Snow - Waubgeshig Rice

Kingdom Animalia - Aracelis Girmay

Happiness - Aminatta Forna

Devotions - Mary Oliver

The Proposal - Jasmine Guillory

The Kiss Quotient - Helen Hoang

When Katie Met Cassidy - Camille Perri

Heads of the Colored People - Nafissa Thompson-Spires

Friday Black: Stories - Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

The Word is Murder - Anthony Horowitz

Miles from Nowhere - Nami Mun

The Lost Ones - Sheena Kamal

All the Names They Used for God - Anjali Sachdeva

Confessions of the Fox - Jordy Rosenberg

Love, Loss, and What We Ate: A Memoir - Padma Lakshmi

On the Come Up - Angie Thomas

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society - Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

The Love & Lies of Rukhsana Ali - Sabina Khan

See What I Have Done - Sarah Schmitt

Convenience Store Woman - Sayaka Murata

I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter - Erika Sánchez

For Today I Am A Boy - Kim Fu

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo - Taylor Jenkins Reid

Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings - Joy Harjo

They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us - Hanif Abdurraqib

Mongrels - Stephen Graham Jones

If Beale Street Could Talk - James Baldwin

Death of Innocence: The Story of the Hate Crime that Changed America - Mamie Till-Mobley and Christopher Benson

The Gilded Wolves - Roshani Chokshi

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before - Jenny Han

The Perfect Nanny - Leila Slimani, translated by Sam Taylor

The Travelling Cat Chronicles - Hiro Arikawa, translated by Philip Gabriel

Things We Lost in the Fire - Mariana Enríquez, translated by Megan McDowell

Sunburn - Laura Lippman

The House of Impossible Beauties - Joseph Cassara

Freshwater - Akwaeke Emezi

A Private Life - Chen Ran, translated by John Howard-Gibbon

Invisible: The Forgotten Story of the Black Woman Lawyer Who Took Down America’s Most Powerful Mobster - Stephen L. Carter

Undead Girl Gang - Lily Anderson

They Both Die at the End - Adam Silvera

The Friend - Sigrid Nunez

Severance - Ling Ma

Tiny Crimes: Very Short Tales of Mystery & Murder - ed. Licoln Michel and Nadxieli Nieto

Mapping the Interior - Stephen Graham Jones

Give Me Some Truth - Eric Gansworth

How to Love a Jamaican - Alexia Arthurs

All of This is True - Lygia Day Peñaflor

Swimmer Among the Stars - Kanishk Tharoor

The Wicked + the Divine, Vol. 7: Mothering Invention - Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie

This is Kind of an Epic Love Story - Kheryn Callender

Gingerbread - Helen Oyeyemi

Where the Dead Sit Talking - Brandon Hobson

The Ensemble - Aja Gabel

My Education - Susan Choi

More Happy than Not - Adam Silvera

Nobody Cares: Essays - Anne T. Donahue

Kiss and Tell: A Romantic Résumé, Ages 0 to 22 - Marinaomi

Oculus: Poems - Sally Wen Mao

Let’s Talk About Love - Claire Kann

History is All You Left Me - Adam Silvera

Opposite of Always - Justin A. Reynolds

The Crown Ain’t Worth Much - Hanif Abdurraqib

The Weight of Our Sky - Hanna Alkaf

If You See Me, Don’t Say Hi - Neel Patel

Girls of Paper and Fire - Natasha Ngan

What if It’s Us - Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera

The Map of Salt and Stars - Jennifer Zeynab Joukhadar

October Mourning: A Song for Matthew Shepard - Lesléa Newman

The Big Smoke - Adrian Matejka

Dissolve - Sherwin Bitsui

The Woman Next Door - Yewande Omotoso

The Refugees - Viet Thanh Nguyen

White Tears - Hari Kunzru

Electric Arches - Eve Ewing

The Black Maria - Aracelis Girmay

Bloodchild and Other Stories - Octavia Butler

Soft Science - Franny Choi

The White Card - Claudia Rankine

Mad Honey Symposium - Sally Wen Mao

The Care and Feeding of Ravenously Hungry Girls - Anissa Gray

Next: New Poems - Lucille Clifton

The Marvelous Arithmetics of Distance: Poems 1987-1992 - Audre Lorde

Quilting the Black-Eyed Pea: Poems and Not Quite Poems - Nikki Giovanni

The Arab of the Future - Riad Sattouf

Ghosts in the Schoolyard: Racism and School Closings on Chicago’s South Side - Eve L. Ewing

Gruel - Bunkong Tuon

Marriage of a Thousand Lies - SJ Sindu

Parable of the Sower - Octavia Butler

Good Night, Willie Lee, I’ll See You in the Morning - Alice Walker

That Kind of Mother - Rumaan Alam

Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows - Balli Kaur Jaswal

Hera Lindsay Bird - Hera Lindsay Bird

Queenie - Candice Carty-Williams

And Still I Rise - Maya Angelou

The Man Who Shot Out My Eye Is Dead - Chanelle Benz

Everyone Knows You Go Home - Natalia Sylvester

Naming Our Destiny: New and Selected Poems - June Jordan

The 100* Best African American Poems (*But I Cheated) - ed. Nikki Giovanni

The Haunting of Tram Car 015 - P. Djèlí Clark

Bury My Clothes - Roger Bonair-Agard

Selected Poems - Langston Hughes

Their Eyes Were Watching God - Zora Neale Hurston

Sonata Mulattica - Rita Dove

Winnie - Gwendolyn Brooks

Bicycles: Love Poems - Nikki Giovanni

The Black God’s Drums - P. Djèlí Clark

Kid Gloves: Nine Months of Careful Chaos - Lucy Knisley

Annie Allen - Gwendolyn Brooks

Parable of the Talents - Octavia Butler

After Disasters - Viet Dinh

Passing for Human: A Graphic Memoir - Liana Finck

Teeth - Aracelis Girmay

A Surprised Queenhood in the New Black Sun: The Life & Legacy of Gwendolyn Brooks - Angela Jackson

Peluda - Melissa Lozada-Oliva

A Map to the Next World - Joy Harjo

Magical Negro - Morgan Parker

Corpse Whale - dg nanouk okpik

Hawkeye: Volume 1 - Matt Fraction

Cenzontle - Marcelo Hernandez Castillo

Don’t Let Me Be Lonely: An American Lyric - Claudia Rankine

Selected Poems - Gwendolyn Brooks

She Had Some Horses - Joy Harjo

The BreakBeat Poets: New American Poetry in the Age of Hip-Hope - ed. Kevin Coval, Quraysh Ali Lansana, and Nate Marshall

Beyond Uhura: Star Trek and Other Memories - Nichelle Nichols

The Past and Other Things that Should Stay Buried - Shaun David Hutchinson

Difficult Women - Roxane Gay

The Woman Who Fell From the Sky - Joy Harjo

The Collected Schizophrenias: Essays - Esmé Weijun Wang

Go Ahead in the Rain: Notes to A Tribe Called Quest - Hanif Abdurraqib

The Frolic of the Beasts - Yukio Mishima

Hawkeye Omnibus - Matt Fraction

Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations - Mira Jacob

Karamo: My Story of Embracing Purpose, Healing, and Hope - Karamo Brown

Tipping the Velvet - Sarah Waters

When My Brother Was an Aztec - Natalie Diaz

Toxic Flora: Poems - Kimiko Hahn

Virgin - Analicia Sotelo

Easy Prey - Catherine Lo

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me - Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connell

Saints and Misfits - S.K. Ali

Intercepted - Alexa Martin

Love from A to Z - S.K. Ali

Gemini - Sonya Mukherjee

The Atlas of Reds and Blues - Devi S. Laskar

My Brother’s Husband Vol. II - Gengoroh Tagame

Black Queer Hoe - Britteney Black Rose Kapri

Internment - Samira Ahmed

Dothead: Poems - Amit Majmudar

With the Fire On High - Elizabeth Acevedo

Sabrina & Corina: Stories - Kali Fajardo-Anstine

Milk and Filth - Carmen Giménez Smith

The Key to Happily Ever After - Tif Marcelo

If You’re Out There - Katy Loutzenhiser

Farewell to Manzanar - Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston

New Poets of Native Nations - ed. Heid E. Erdrich

Bodymap: Poems - Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

Wolf by Wolf - Ryan Graudin

Tell Me How It Ends - Valeria Luiselli

Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood - Trevor Noah

Down and Across - Arvin Ahmadi

The Tradition - Jericho Brown

About Betty’s Boob - Vero Cazot and Julie Rocheleau

Fake It Till You Break It - Jenn P. Nguyen

Storm of Locusts - Rebecca Roanhorse

Silver Sparrow - Tayari Jones

Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors - Sonali Dev

Mongrel: Essays, Diatribes, Pranks - Justin Chin

When I Grow Up I Want To Be a List of Further Possibilities - Chen Chen

The New Testament - Jericho Brown

Fumbled - Alexa Martin

If It Makes You Happy - Claire Kann

Brave Face - Shaun David Hutchinson

Words in Deep Blue - Cath Crowley

Lost Children Archive - Valeria Luiselli

Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice - Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

We Were Eight Years in Power: An American Tragedy - Ta-Nehisi Coates

Anger is a Gift - Mark Oshiro

The Bride Test - Helen Hoang

Not Your Backup - C.B. Lee

Prelude to Bruise - Saeed Jones

The Night Wanderer: A Graphic Novel - Drew Hayden Taylor and Michael Wyatt

Naturally Tan - Tan France

Bloom - Kevin Panetta and Savanna Ganucheau

Like a Love Story - Abdi Nazemian

I’m Afraid of Men - Vivek Shraya

Juliet Takes a Breath - Gabby Rivera

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous - Ocean Vuong

Let Me Hear a Rhyme - Tiffany D. Jackson

I Wanna Be Where You Are - Kristina Forest

Hurricane Season - Nicole Melleby

Split Tooth - Tanya Tagaq

Hungry Hearts: 13 Tales of Love and Food - ed. Elsie Chapman and Caroline Tung Richmond

The Night Tiger - Yangsze Choo

Long Live the Tribe of Fatherless Girls - T Kira Madden

Miracle Creek - Angie Kim

Ayesha at Last - Uzma Jalaluddin

Shout - Laurie Halse Anderson

The Breakbeat Poets Vol. 3: Halal if You Hear Me - ed. Fatimah Asghar and Safia Elhillo

The Tenth Muse - Catherine Chung

This Place: 150 Years Retold - various authors

Kings, Queens, and In-Betweens - Tanya Boteju

Midnight Chicken (& Other Recipes Worth Living For) - Ella Risbridger

Library of Small Catastrophes - Alison C. Rollins

Natalie Tan’s Book of Luck and Fortune - Roselle Lim

No Ashes in the Fire: Coming of Age Black and Free in America - Darnell L. Moore

The Book of Delights - Ross Gay

The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle - Stuart Turton

Speak No Evil - Uzodinma Iweala

How We Fight White Supremacy - Akiba Solomon and Kenrya Rankin

A Love Story Starring My Dead Best Friend - Emily Horner

Here and Now and Then - Mike Chen

The Ghost Bride - Yangsze Choo

Red White and Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston

Becoming - Michelle Obama

The Wedding Party - Jasmine Guillory

Magic for Liars - Sarah Gailey

I’ll Be Gone in the Dark: One Woman’s Obsessive Search for the Golden State Killer - Michelle McNamara

Brain Fever - Kimiko Hahn

Life on Mars - Tracy K. Smith

Notebooks of a Chile Verde Smuggler - Juan Felipe Herrera

Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude - Ross Gay

Tentacle - Rita Indiana

Hapa Tales and Other Lies: A Memoir About the Mixed Race Hawai’i That I Never Knew - Sharon Chang

Loose Woman - Sandra Cisneros

Duende - Tracy K. Smith

Mostly Dead Things - Kristen Arnett

1919 - Eve L. Ewing

Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race - Reni Eddo-Lodge

Negroland - Margo Jefferson

For Black Girls Like Me - Mariama J. Lockington

Super Extra Grande - Yoss

Home Remedies - Xuan Juliana Wang

You Can’t Touch My Hair: And Other Things I Still Have to Explain - Phoebe Robinson

An Anonymous Girl - Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen

The Abundance - Amit Majmudar

I Shall Not Be Moved - Maya Angelou

Helium - Rudy Francisco

Teaching My Mother to Give Birth - Warsan Shire

Tomie - Junji Ito

Everything’s Trash, But It’s Okay - Phoebe Robinson

This Time Will Be Different - Misa Sugiura

Junji Ito’s Cat Diary: Yon & Mu - Junji Ito

Stag’s Leap - Sharon Olds

Black Card - Chris L. Terry

It’s Not Like It’s A Secret - Misa Sugiura

Washington Black - Esi Edugyan

From Here To Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death - Caitlin Doughty

I’m Telling the Truth, But I’m Lying: Essays - Bassey Ikpi

A House of My Own: Stories from my Life - Sandra Cisneros

The Terrible - Yrsa Daley-Ward

The Black Tides of Heaven - JY Yang

The Red Threads of Fortune - JY Yang

Little Fish - Casey Plett

Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion - Jia Tolentino

The Black Condition ft. Narcissus - Jayy Dodd

The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt

Dealing in Dreams - Lilliam Rivera

The Tiger Flu - Larissa Lai

The Island of Sea Women - Lisa See

America is Not the Heart - Elaine Castillo

Feel Free - Zadie Smith

Walking on the Ceiling - Aysegul Savas

My Time Among the Whites: Notes from an Unfinished Education - Jennine Capo Crucet

The Unpassing - Chia-Chia Lin

Maurice - E.M. Forster

Permanent Record - Mary H.K. Choi

The Downstairs Girl - Stacey Lee

Red Dust Road: An Autobiographical Journey - Jackie Kay

The Ungrateful Refugee: What Immigrants Never Tell You - Dina Nayeri

I Married My Best Friend to Shut My Parents Up - Naoko Kodama

Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI - David Grann

Ordinary Light - Tracy K. Smith

Cantoras - Carolina De Robertis

Brain on Fire: My Month of Madness - Susannah Cahalan

How to Be Remy Cameron - Julian Winters

The Marriage Clock - Zara Raheem

Moon: Letters, Maps, Poems - Jennifer S. Cheng

Where Reasons End - Yiyun Li

Pet - Akwaeke Emezi

Meddling Kids - Edgar Cantero

A Lucky Man - Jamel Brinkley

Maiden, Mother, Crone: Fantastical Trans Femmes - ed. Gwen Benaway

What is Obscenity? The Story of a Good for Nothing Artist and her Pussy - Rokudenashiko

The Umbrella Academy Vol. III: Hotel Oblivion - Gerard Way

Who Put This Song On? - Morgan Parker

The Souls of Yellow Folk: Essays - Wesley Yang

Wave - Sonali Deraniyagala

Love War Stories - Ivelisse Rodriguez

Baby Teeth - Zoje Stage

A Fortune for Your Disaster - Hanif Abdurraqib

Eyes Bottle Dark with a Mouthful of Flowers - Jake Skeets

Dear America: Notes of an Undocumented Citizen - Jose Antonio Vargas

The Marrow Thieves - Cherie Dimaline

Polite Society - Mahesh Rao

Patron Saints of Nothing - Randy Ribay

The Body Papers: A Memoir - Grace Talusan

A Woman is No Man - Etaf Rum

Travelers - Helon Habila

Trust Exercise - Susan Choi

The Silent Patient - Alex Michaelides

The Intuitionist - Colson Whitehead

A People’s History of Heaven - Mathangi Subramanian

The Buddha of Suburbia - Hanif Kureishi

This is Paradise: Stories - Kristiana Kahakauwila

Brood - Kimiko Hahn

Don’t Look Now - Daphne du Maurier

How We Fight for Our Lives - Saeed Jones

I Hope You Get This Message - Farah Naz Rishi

Unmarriageable - Soniah Kamal

Bad Endings - Carleigh Baker

The Water Dancer - Ta-Nehisi Coates

The Lady from the Black Lagoon: Hollywood Monsters and the Lost Legacy of Milicent Patrick - Mallory O’Meara

Shapes of Native Nonficton: Collected Essays by Contemporary Writers - ed. Elissa Washuta and Theresa Warburton

Harley Quinn: Breaking Glass - Mariko Tamaki

Even the Saints Audition - Rachel Jackson

Slay - Britney Morris

#NotYourPrincess: Voices of Native American Women - ed. Lisa Charleyboy and Mary Beth Leatherdale

The Starlet and the Spy - Ji-min Lee

North of Dawn - Nuruddin Farah

Daisy Jones & The Six - Taylor Jenkins Reid

The Drowning Boy’s Guide to Water - Cameron Barnett

They Called Us Enemy - George Takei

Dear Girls: Intimate Tales, Untold Secrets, and Advice for Living Your Best Life - Ali Wong

The Right Swipe - Alisha Rai

Full Disclosure - Camryn Garrett

Searching for Sylvie Lee - Jean Kwok

Gideon the Ninth - Tasmyn Muir

Stubborn Archivist - Yara Rodrigues Fowler

The Wicked + the Divine, Vol. 8: Old is the New New - Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie

Never Grow Up - Jackie Chan

“All the Real Indians Died Off”: And 20 Other Myths About Native Americans - Roxanna Dunbar-Ortiz

In the Dream House - Carmen Maria Machado

Blame This on the Boogie - Rina Ayuyang

It - Stephen King

Sea Monsters - Chloe Aridjis

My Fate According to the Butterfly - Gail D. Villanueva

The Wicked + the Divine, Vol. 9: “Okay” - Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie

The Deep - Rivers Solomon

I Hope We Choose Love: A Trans Girl’s Notes from the End of the World - Kai Cheng Thom

Mooncakes - Suzanne Walker

BTTM FDRS - Ezra Claytan Daniels and Ben Passmore

Hot Comb - Ebony Flowers

Notes from a Young Black Chef - Kwame Onwuachi

Bunny - Mona Awad

The Twisted Ones - T. Kingfisher

Shuri, Vol. 1: The Search for Black Panther - Nnedi Okorafor

I Was Their American Dream: A Graphic Memoir - Malaka Gharib

Thick: And Other Essays - Tressie McMillan Cottom

Royal Holiday - Jasmine Guillory

Boxers - Gene Luen Yang

Saints - Gene Luen Yang

Fox 8 - George Saunders

The Memory Police - Yoko Ogawa

Last Day - Domenica Ruta

Wakanda Forever - Nnedi Okorafor

The Revisioners - Margaret Wilkerson Sexton

The Future of Another Timeline - Annalee Newitz

We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir - Samra Habib

Somewhere in the Middle: A Journey to the Phillipines in Search of Roots, Belonging, and Identity - Deborah Francisco Douglas

Crier’s War - Nina Varela

Something in Between - Melissa de la Cruz

The Secrets We Kept - Lara Prescott

The Tao of Raven: An Alaska Native Memoir - Ernestine Hayes

One of Us is Lying - Karen M. McManus

Piecing Me Together - Renee Watson

Binti - Nnedi Okorafor

The Nickel Boys - Colson Whitehead

Recursion - Blake Crouch

Supper Club - Lara Williams

#books #2019 #my lists #year in books

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scoundrels-in-love · 7 years ago

Note

the last 5 for that kdrama meme!

!!! Thank you so much!!

31. An Unexpected Ship

Soo Ji and Sang Goo of Because This is My First Life. I admit I’ve yet to proper-finish the drama and I used to skip their scenes, so the fact I actually dig them together is really something. Sang Goo evolved so much from someone I pretty much hated at start as someone I am glad to see by Queen Soo Ji’s side. He doesn’t know how to deal with her at first and still fumbles, but he does try and he does learn. And she grows with him. And they don’t lose anything of themselves as characters/people in the process. All of this really took me by surprise and I love the ship quite a bit now.

32. Favourite Crackship

Sleeping Dragon Trio aka Jae Chan/Hong Joo/Woo Tak of While You Were Sleeping. They’re perfect for each other, all three of ‘em.

33. Actors You Wish Would Work Together

Seo In Guk or Park Bo Gum with Lee Sung Kyung or Nam Ji Hyun. I admit I’ve not seen the latter actress in more than one work, but I’d like to think, judging by Suspicious Partner, she could pull off both kdrama humor and the heavy stuff, fittingly with either male partner. I know Lee Sung Kyung for sure can.

34. First Drama

Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo! Such an unexpected fave, even year later. (Dang now I feel like rewatching with more experienced eyes and just for some pick-me-up feels.) Always thank you for throwing enough content of it on my dash. ;D

35. Oldest OST You Still Listen To Regularly

Anything and everything from Goblin and Kill Me, Heal Me (especially Auditory Hallucinations). Though KMHM one is notably older, I watched both dramas around same time and I can’t pick between them.

#sent on a cloud #kdrama #rainy day conversations #rainy watches kdrama #gizkasparadise

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vonseal · 8 years ago

Note

hello!! could i request 50 and/or 59 for the prompts with binu? btw i love your work and youve made me cry like 7 times with the magic series!! thank you for sharing ur talents with us!!💜

50 & 59 / binu - prompts here

Dongmin’s face was warm, and he felt panic seep into his bones. First Bin ignores him completely, and now, when they finally are talking, Bin is drunk and lewd?

Why did he have a crush on such a mess?

Originally, Bin had been nothing more than a roommate and a friendof Jinwoo’s. He was attractive, sure, but he was slightlystand-offish. After Dongmin gave his initial introduction of, “Hello,I’m Dongmin, and I’ll be your new roommate,” Bin had simplynodded and gone back to watching whatever weird anime he had on atthe time.

It took him a while to give a formal introduction right back toDongmin: “I’m Moon Bin,” he had muttered after Dongmin hadunpacked all of his personal belongings.

And then that was it.

He wasn’t mean in any case; he was simply quiet wheneverDongmin was around, which was a stark contrast from how he actedwhenever Jinwoo came by. With Jinwoo, he was loud and giggly andenjoying life.

Dongmin began to wonder if he did something wrong, and he asked asmuch to Jinwoo one evening.

“I really don’t think he likes me,” Dongmin complained as hepicked at his noodles. “I mean, why does he always ignore me? And Itry my best to engage him in conversation - do you think I might havesaid something to him to upset him?”

“Probably, yeah,” Jinwoo mumbled. He wasn’t really payingmuch attention to Dongmin; all of his focus seemed situated on thepart-time worker of their favorite noodle joint; Kim Myungjun and hisdamn infectious smile and ability to turn Jinwoo into a puddle ofgoo.

Normally, Dongmin wouldn’t mind Jinwoo’s adorable infatuationover Myungjun, but today he desperately needed help. He snapped hisfingers under his best friend’s nose. “Jinwoo-hyung, pleasefocus!”

That seemed to do the trick, and Jinwoo blinked before lookingback over at Dongmin. “Yeah, sorry, um…we’re talking aboutBin?”

Dongmin nodded desperately. “He hates my guts.”

“He doesn’t hate your guts.”

“He does! He gets along so well with everyone, but hetreats me like I don’t even exist half the time!”

Jinwoo’s eyebrows furrowed together, and he finally began eatinghis noodles. After one mouthful was down, he murmured, “Thatdoesn’t seem right. Are you sure he’s acting like that? Becausehe told me he really, really liked you.”

“What?”

“Yeah - oh, gosh, maybe he’s too shy, Dongmin! Isn’t thatcute!” Jinwoo grinned, then brought his voice down to a whisper.“Not as cute as Myungjun-”

“Hyung, he likes me?”

Knowing that Dongmin wasn’t going to coo over his crush today,Jinwoo sighed and straightened up in his seat. “I probablyshouldn’t have told you - I mean, this is something Bin has to comearound to confess on his own time. You have to promise youwon’t say a word-”

“Hyung, he like likes me?”

“What is this, primary school?” Jinwoo scoffed. “Yes,Dongmin, he had a giant, big crush on you and you need to keep yourmouth shut about this, especially since I don’t know if you likehim back or not.”

And, at that moment, Dongmin himself wasn’t even sure whether ornot he liked Bin back. Sure, Bin was handsome and had a gorgeoussmile and strong arms and probably even stronger abs, but Dongminhad never really thought about liking him.

Since Jinwoo tattled, however, all Dongmin could think about wasBin. He watched Bin closely at their apartment, now admiring allthose quirks he had once ignored. The more time passed, the moreDongmin wondered if he was falling in love.

Still, Bin kept mostly silent around him. Dongmin began to forceconversation, and there were times where Bin would get into whatevertopic they were discussing, and he’d laugh loudly and nod his headenthusiastically and seem interested, but the moment theconversation fell to a lull, he would retreat in on himself again.

Dongmin hated it.

He needed some sort of icebreaker. Their conversations werefantastic, but they lasted for such a short period of time. Dongminneeded something longer, something concrete, to ensure himself thathe had feelings for Bin and that Bin did have feelings forhim.

A bar was the only place he could think of to loosen both of themup. A few drinks had never hurt anyone, regardless, and Bin seemed toagree pretty readily.

Except Bin consumed more than a few drinks. He kept theconversation up very nicely, but it did come at a cost, and that costwas a drunk Bin.

Jinwoo would kill him ifhe learned that he had made Bin get drunk.

“Dongmiiiin-”Bin whined as Dongmin pushed aside all of the drinks Bin had orderedbut hadn’t gotten to just yet. “Dongmin, why are you doing that? Iwas going to drink them!”

“Not now you aren’t,” Dongminresponded, and he had to hoist Bin up from his seat, slinging his armover his shoulder in order to properly drag him from the bar. “God,Bin, you’re so drunk! Why did I think this was a good idea?”

Bin hiccuped, then leaned intoDongmin’s embrace. “Because you like me as much as I like you?”

Dongmin froze. “What?”

Bin repeated himself, louder thistime, earning the attention of several other bar-goers. “Becauseyou like me-!”

“Shh!” Dongmin stuffed hisfree hand over Bin’s mouth, but Bin continued the muffled yell.Dongmin felt rather humiliated, both from having possibly been foundout (he stared enough in their apartment, so he guessed it wasn’t toomuch of a surprise that Bin had caught on), and from having his crushdisplayed for the entire world to hear. Quickly, he rushed Bin out ofthe bar and began to short trek home, trying to ignore the poundingof his heart against his chest. “Wh-Where did you get thatidea?” he whispered.

Bin, even while drunk, seemed tounderstand Dongmin’s desire to speak in low voices. “Jinwoo-hyungtold me.”

“Jinwoo- gosh, of course hedid.” Dongmin was going to tell Myungjun, just to make it even.“How did he know,though? I never told him – why am I even asking you? You’re toodrunk to remember a thing.”

“Depends on what that thingis!” Bin responded as Dongmin dragged him up to their front door.While the older of the two worked on fumbling with the keys, Binwhispered, “I’ll remember certainthings,” and he brushed a finger up against Dongmin’s lips.

Dongmin drew in a harsh breathbefore finally unlocking the door, and he shoved Bin unceremoniouslyinto the couch. “Don’t-”

“God, you’re not gentle atall,” Bin groaned out as he splayed himself out over the couchcushions. “I like it. That’s hot.”

Dongmin’s face was warm, and hefelt panic seep into his bones. First Bin ignores him completely, andnow, when they finally aretalking, Bin is drunk and lewd?

Why did he have a crush on such amess?

“Just…just stay there,” hecommanded. “I’m going to-to get you some water.”

Water wouldn’t do much to healhis own rush ofemotions, but it would hydrate Bin, if even a bit, and possiblylessen the pain of his hangover when the morning came around.

He filled a glass up with shakinghands. Bin was unusually seductive.Sure, Dongmin regularly found himself lost in Bin’s mesmerizing gaze,but now his feelings toward Bin had suddenly shot skyward. It wasdifficult to ignore it when Bin was open and willing-

Dongmin shut the tap water offhurriedly. He just had to give Bin the drink and then leave him befor the rest of the night. Bin probably wouldn’t remember a thing hehad done in the morning, and Dongmin could pretend that nothing everhappened.

(And he definitelyneeded an emergency noodle outing with Jinwoo.)

“Bin?” he took a deep breathas he headed back into their living room. “Bin, I got you some-”

But Bin hadn’t just laid on thecouch, as Dongmin assumed he would. Instead, Bin was standing up,currently lacking a shirt and pants, and aboutto be lacking underwear, if the fingers curled around the band of hisboxers were any indication of that.

“Oh my god!”Dongmin squeezed his eyes shut, though he made certain not to spillthe water. “Bin, why are you naked?!”

Bin giggled, and in a huskyvoice, he muttered, “Because I know what you want-”

“This is the exact oppositeof what I want!” Dongmin complained, and he felt his way to thecoffee table in order to place the water down, his eyes still closed.

“I thought you liked me.” Binsounded confused.

Dongmin placed his free hand overhis eyes and peeked out from in between his fingers. (Bin didhave really nice abs.) “I-I wanted a slow romance, a…somethingromantic and – Bin, you’re drunk!”

Bin seemed a little sheepish atthat, and he plopped on the couch before nuzzling his face into oneof the couch pillows. “I misread the situation.” His words wereslurred as he closed his eyes. “When I wake up tomorrow, I’llromance you properly, Dongmin.”

Dongmin grabbed a nearby blanketand tossed it over Bin’s near-naked body. “Y-You won’t, um, youwon’t remember this in the morning,” he responded. His hands weretrembling even more. “And I’ll pretend it never happened.”

“I’ll remember.” Bin yawnedand wrapped himself up tighter in the blanket. “I’m not drunkenough to completely forget it all. And once I remember, will you goout with me?”

“If you remember,”Dongmin answered, and he backed as far away as possible. “And youwon’t.”

But Bin smiled secretively beforeturning to face the side of the couch, thus hiding his expressionsfrom Dongmin’s view. “So that’s a yes, then.”

Dongmin felt that it didn’tdeserve a reply, so he simply waited until he heard the soft snoresthat sleep had produced. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding against hischest, and Dongmin place the palm of his hand over it, as if thatwould somehow calm it down.

If Bin remembered all of thiscome morning, Dongmin knew he wouldn’t say no.

#my fanfic #binu #binu fanfic #binu fanfiction #astro fanfic #astro fanfiction #tiny lil drabbles #i had NO IDEA where i was going with this rip seal #Anonymous #and thank you so much im really happy you liked the magic series!!!

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maennw6417000-blog · 7 years ago

Text

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ruthnickel461-blog · 7 years ago

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Digestion Problems.

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bpoole500 · 7 years ago

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The 100 List: Albums

Even more than books, music can be a strong shared experience.

“What are you listening to?” has probably been one of the earliest question in any number of friendships. A song or album can immediately tag a particular time or place in your memory. A concert can bring thousands of strangers together and bond them over the course of a couple hours.

In this day of downloading and streaming, one might be tempted to wonder if the concept of the album is even still relevant. It may not be, and yet many artists continue to release music that way. The delivery system may change, but the artistic impulse remains. The days of monster album sales may be a permanent relic of the past (unless you’re Adele or Taylor Swift), but even if fewer people feel compelled to get the whole thing, an album, an entire work of musical inspiration, can still be a powerful statement from an artist.

People have strong opinions when it comes to their favorite tunes. That’s why I’d never dream of offering a “best” list. That’s not just asking for trouble, it’s pretty much demanding it, while saying something rude about trouble’s parentage. You’re better off not going there.

But if you’re asking for some of my favorites, the albums I’d recommend, the answer to the question “what are you listening to,” then these are likely to be the answer.

1. A Few Small Repairs – Shawn Colvin

2. All That You Can’t Leave Behind – U2

3. Anthology: Through the Years – Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

- Some might feel it’s a cheat to put hits collections and other compilations on a list like this. I disagree, as compiling songs that weren’t recorded together into a coherent, compelling collection is an art all its own. And when the songs are as good as, say, Tom Petty’s output of hits, a compilation can easily make the transition from commercial project to art.

4. August and Everything After – Counting Crows

5. The Austin Sessions – Edwin McCain

- McCain can be an inconsistent artist, but this stripped down collection, including a killer cover of the Dire Straits’ “Romeo and Juliet,” may be the most effective recording of his career.

6. Babel – Mumford and Sons

7. Back to Black – Amy Winehouse

- It’s easy to get caught up in the tragedy of Winehouse’s senseless, far-too-premature death. But instead, remember the fierce, intelligent and beguiling woman who caught the world’s attention with this retro-pop stunner.

8. Bare – Annie Lennox

9. Barton Hollow – The Civil Wars

10. Bella Donna – Stevie Nicks

- You’ll see a lot of Stevie on this list, both solo and with Fleetwood Mac. There’s a reason she’s one of the most revered women in the world of rock.

11. Blue – Joni Mitchell

12. The Body Acoustic – Cyndi Lauper

13. Breakaway – Kelly Clarkson

14. Bringing Down the Horse - Wallflowers

15. Building the Perfect Beast – Don Henley

16. The Civil Wars – The Civil Wars

- It’s not difficult to believe that the two people who recorded this turbulent, fascinating album stopped speaking to one another immediately thereafter. Their fans may never know what broke up The Civil Wars, but as a parting statement, this works pretty damn well.

17. The Color and the Shape – Foo Fighters

18. Come Away With Me – Norah Jones

19. Cry Like A Rainstorm, Howl Like the Wind – Linda Ronstadt

20. Dizzy Up the Girl – Goo Goo Dolls

21. Drastic Fantastic – KT Tunstall

- People who stopped listening to Tunstall after “Black Horse and the Cherry Tree” have missed one of the most compelling artistic trajectories in recent pop/rock music, one that’s still going strong, even if the artist doesn’t get the attention she merits.

22. The End of the Innocence – Don Henley

23. Essence – Lucinda Williams

24. Everyone Is Here – The Finn Brothers

25. Fat City – Shawn Colvin

- Colvin’s recorded a lot of great music, but this collaboration with producer Larry Klein ranks among her best work.

26. Final Straw – Snow Patrol

27. Fleetwood Mac – Fleetwood Mac

28. Forever Blue – Chris Isaak

- Heart Shaped World was a bigger hit, but this pithy heartbreak song cycle perfectly captures Isaak’s musical mission.

29. 40 Acres – Caedmon’s Call

30. Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand

31. Fumbling Towards Ecstasy – Sarah McLachlan

32. Garden State – soundtrack

- One of the strongest movie soundtracks in recent memory (it’s final track by a badly outclassed cast member notwithstanding).

33. Give Up the Ghost – Brandi Carlisle

34. Greatest Hits – Bruce Springsteen

35. Happenstance – Rachel Yamagata

36. Heart Like A Wheel – Linda Ronstadt

- Several albums into her career, this is where everything came together for Ronstadt, crystalizing her approach. More than four decades later and it’s still a pristine exemplar of its era.

37. Hopes and Fears – Keane

38. Hot Fuss – The Killers

39. Hotel California – Eagles

- This is one of those albums that musical snobs enjoy dismissing as “overrated,” but its reputation is well-earned, practically defining the sound of late ‘70s album rock.

40. How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb – U2

41. How To Save A Life – The Fray

42. In Time: The Best of R.E.M. – R.E.M.

43. Indigo Girls – Indigo Girls

44. Invisible Empire/Crescent Moon – KT Tunstall

45. Jars of Clay – Jars of Clay

46. The Joshua Tree – U2

- Most bands would kill for the trio of high profile hits this album produced, but it’s so much more than just those three songs. If you haven’t listened to it in awhile, it’s worth revisiting.

47. Kaleidoscope Heart – Sara Bareilles

48. Karla Bonoff – Karla Bonoff

49. Like A Prayer – Madonna

50. Lost In Space – Aimee Mann

- Mann got screwed by the major labels worse than just about any artist of the past 30 or so years. But she never let it get her down. This is a perfect example of the independent approach she embraced once she finally extracted herself from the wreckage of her former recording home.

51. Marc Cohn – Marc Cohn

52. Merry Christmas – Mariah Carey

- There are many valid criticisms one might level Carey’s way, but this Christmas collection is her indelible highlight and “All I Want For Christmas Is You” is a much deserved modern standard.

53. Mirrorball: The Complete Concert – Sarah McLachlan

54. Mr. Lucky – Chris Isaak

55. More Than Just A Dream – Fitz and the Tantrums

56. New Constellation – Toad the Wet Sprocket

- Few bands come back from a break of well over a decade with music as compelling as what Toad presented here.

57. New Miserable Experience – Gin Blossoms

58. O – Damien Rice

59. OK Computer – Radiohead

60. One Moment More – Mindy Smith

61. Our Version of Events – Emeli Sande

62. Poseidon and the Bitter Bug – Indigo Girls

63. Purple Rain – Prince and the Revolution

- To admit that you don’t have a favorite song on this album is to admit that you don’t like music very much.

64. Raising Sand – Robert Plant and Alison Krauss

65. Rearviewmirror (greatest hits 1991 – 2009) – Pearl Jam

66. Recovering the Satellites – Counting Crows

67. Recurring Dream: The Very Best of Crowded House – Crowded House

68. Relish – Joan Osborne

69. The River of Dreams – Billy Joel

70. Rock Spectacle – Barenaked Ladies

71. Rumours – Fleetwood Mac

72. Running on Empty – Jackson Browne

73. Sam’s Town – The Killers

- After their crowd-pleasing debut, The Killers grew into one of the more polarizing bands on the modern rock scene with a commendable refusal to do what anyone expected of them.

74. Sand and Water – Beth Nielsen Chapman

75. Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings – Counting Crows

76. Scars on 45 – Scars on 45

77. Screamin’ for My Supper – Beth Hart

- If you don’t know blues/pop belter Hart, this is an ideal way to begin your acquaintance.

78. Shimmer – Kim Richey

79. Sigh No More – Mumford and Sons

80. Some Mad Hope – Matt Nathanson

81. Songs in the Attic – Billy Joel

82. The Sound of White – Missy Higgins

83. Sycamore Meadows – Butch Walker

84. Tapestry – Carole King

85. There Is Nothing Left To Lose – Foo Fighters

86. This Desert Life – Counting Crows

- Even if the collection as a whole wasn’t pretty near flawless, the sprawling, singular “Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby” would demand its inclusion on this list.

87. Tiger Lily – Natalie Merchant

88. Tinsel and Lights – Tracey Thorn

89. Trouble in Shangri-La – Stevie Nicks

90. Tuesday Night Music Club – Sheryl Crow

91. 21 – Adele

- Proof that people will still buy (or download or stream) full albums. Even Adele seemed shocked at what a nerve these songs touched with a diverse array of fans.

92. Twentysomething – Jamie Cullum

93. Twister – soundtrack

94. The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner – Ben Folds Five

95. Under the Covers, Volumes 1, 2 and 3 – Matthew Sweet and Sussana Hoffs

- The one time alt-pop wunderkind and the erstwhile lead Bangle might seem like odd collaborators, but their three albums putting their own spins on the songs of different decades (‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s) are a total blast.

96. The Very Best of the Eagles – Eagles

97. The Very Best of Jackson Browne – Jackson Browne

98. VH1: Crossroads – various artists

- These live performances, taken from VH1’s late ‘90s franchise, featured the likes of k.d. lang, The Gin Blossoms, Tori Amos and Son Volt, providing a nice encapsulation of the state of adult alternative music at the time.

99. White Ladder – David Gray

100. Young Love – Mat Kearney

#music #albums #rock #pop #folk #alternative

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exosmutxoxo · 8 years ago

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Dangerous Woman (Part 7) 🌙

A/N: This is the longest chapter I’ve ever updated, so I hope everyone will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 However, here’s a heads-up! This part contains snippets of abuse (mostly physical), so don’t say I didn’t warn y’all! Also, tell me your thoughts after reading! ;) TEAM CHANYEOL? TEAM LUHAN? TELL ME EVERYTHING xx

Pairing(s): Chanyeol x Reader

Warnings: Physical abuse, degradation, finger-fucking, blackmailing, use of firearms (mentions of it), violence

Genre: Thriller(?), light smut

Word Count: 8605

Soundtrack:

Gateway Drug // Bebe Rexha

Just Like A Pill // Cascada

“No answer”.

With a defeated sigh, Luhan drops his phone in his lap and rests his head against the pane of the passenger seat’s window. At this time of the afternoon, the sun is blazing down on the streets of Seoul, sending bright and cheery rays breaking through even the darkest corners of the city. If only Luhan’s mood matches the weather as well.

For the past two hours, the drug lord and the receptionist have been trampling through the city, feverishly questioning the people who are associated with (Y/N) or Chanyeol. They’ve questioned Kim Jongin, (Y/N)’s personal butler but the young man has no clue to where the call-girl might have disappeared to.

They’ve interrogated the bartender working down at the bar (Y/N) likes to hang out at, they’ve pestered the owner of the pet shop where she always drops by to get cat food for Lu and even questioned the people working at the bubble tea shop where Sehun and (Y/N) like to hang out at on several occasions.

Now, the two men are taking a break in the comfort of Sehun’s air-conditioned Rover, sitting in silence while Lu the cat snoozes away happily in the backseat. Sehun turns his head at Luhan’s remark, raising an eyebrow. “From (Y/N) or Chanyeol?”

“Both”, Luhan mutters, eyeing the phone in his lap with a hint of faint hope. Obviously, no calls or messages come through and he sighs once more, turning his attention back to the world outside the comforts of the car.

“Is there anybody else you can get a hold of?” Sehun asks. He bites down on the straw sticking out of his bubble tea cup, chewing on it. “I mean, you’re one of the most important people in this country. Surely you’ve got contacts”.

A beat of silence passes between them and Luhan feels himself beginning to twitch nervously in the passenger seat as his mind starts to throw up the unwanted memories he spent so much time trying to bury and lock away. The first memory that pops in his head is that of Chanyeol’s sister, and the drug lord curls his fingers up in his lap.

Park Yoora had been a huge part of his life three long years ago, way before he met (Y/N). Even up till today, he can still vividly recall how it felt like to hold her in his arms whenever they were utterly mind-blown after a night of sex, his nose buried in the warmth of her feminine-scented hair while his arms entwined themselves around her waist. She would always turn back to face him, her drowsy gaze fixated on him as that familiar smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Unlike (Y/N), Yoora was much taller, albeit still shorter than Luhan himself. She was an entire world away from (Y/N), completely different in every aspect. Besides the height, she was shy and bashful and unassuming, the complete opposite of (Y/N)’s pushy, feisty, volatile personality. Yoora was a total amateur in bed, frightened out of her wits and clumsy at that, never sure of what to do next.

She would fumble around in the dark, poking and prodding at Luhan like as though he was a specimen to examine and as much as it annoyed him at times, he would admit that he did harbour some sort of twisted feeling for her at that time. He never brought up the sensitive topic of romance though, too proud to do so.

But somehow, she must have sussed out that something was up. Women have a weird way of discovering things that you yourself have no clue about, so when Yoora actually brought the taboo topic up, it was no surprise that Luhan freaked out.

Which was pretty hilariously ironic, considering the fact that he was the one who coerced her into being his sex slave in the first place.

3 years ago

“Luhan?”

Upon hearing the soft hum of his name, Luhan rolls over to gaze at Yoora expectantly, silently surprised at the sight of tears glittering in her eyes like diamonds. In the warm light of the bedroom, she looks completely vulnerable, the duvet wrapped around her naked form like a cocoon and for a split second, Luhan feels his heart start to race.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, propping himself up on his elbow and staring down at her fondly, reaching over to brush a lock of hair away from her face.

She stills beneath his touch. “Have you ever thought about being in a relationship?”

The question instantly stumps him and he feels himself freeze, everything coming to a standstill. If there’s anything he absolutely despises, it’s commitment. Actually being questioned about it is enough to send him into a state of frenzy.

He laughs it off in a desperate attempt to cover up his discomfort. “Why do you ask?”

Yoora pushes herself up to an upright position, allowing the duvet to slide off and exposing her bare breasts as she does so. Unable to help himself, Luhan fixes his stare on her physique, silently worshipping her body in the privacy of his own mind.

“I was just thinking…” She begins slowly, snapping him out of his reverie. “Ever since I became your….sex slave, I’ve been having these”, she pauses to gesture vaguely, “feelings. And I just wanted to share them with you”.

“What feelings?”

She blushes in response. “The ‘butterflies in tummy’ thing. Fuzzy, warm feelings. But only when I’m with you”.

The drug lord furrows his brows in confusion. “What are you getting at, Yoora?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She cocks her head to the side, allowing her lovely raven-black hair to cascade over her shoulders like an ebony waterfall. “I-I’m in love with you, Luhan”.

To Luhan, it seems bizarre. He’d coerced this girl into being his sex slave, threatened her family and sent men to destroy their home and she falls in love with him? It would be hilarious if it didn’t make him feel so edgy.

Now, as Yoora leans forward towards him with the promise of a kiss on her pursed lips, Luhan feels his insides turn to goo. Sure, he’s had women openly swoon over him countless number of times but this one totally takes the cake.

She’s all over him in seconds, peppering his face with fleeting kisses and the drug lord emits a soft sigh, tilting his head back in bliss. Yoora kisses a burning path down the side of his face, along the length of his jaw and down to his collarbones, lavishing her entire adoring attention on him and Luhan loses himself in the moment, giving himself up for her and releasing his hold on the cynicism he’s been keeping so close to his heart for the past many years.

“Your brother wouldn’t approve of this”, the drug lord muses aloud, carding his fingers through Yoora’s dark locks lazily.

She exhales against his heated skin. “I don’t need his approval if he doesn’t know anything”.

Luhan knows her brother well enough. Chanyeol is definitely going to give him hell if he knew that his sister was going about falling in love with drug lords who made life a living hell for her family but it’s obvious that Yoora gives zero fucks about what her brother might think.

So he falls with her, clinging on tight as they both take the plunge into the chasm of forbidden love.

Present

When Yoora first picked up the phone, Luhan could practically feel his knees knocking together as she uttered her very first ‘hello’ for the first time in so many years.

“Hi”, the drug lord says weakly, clutching his phone so tightly that his knuckles turn a sickly white. “H-How have you been?”

Silence floods the other end of the line and as the seconds tick by, beads of perspiration start to form at the nape of his neck as he awaits her response. The worst case scenario could be that she hangs up on him without another word or curse him out for walking away from her the moment Chanyeol signed a binding contract with him all those years ago.

Yoora does neither. Instead, she heaves a long and heavy sigh as though taking this opportunity to relieve the burden she’s been carrying. “Do you want the truth, Han?” She asks simply.

Han.

He squeezes his eyes shut at the sound of the nickname, feeling a knife twisting deep in his gut. How long has it been since he last heard someone utter that?

Not very long ago, a tiny voice taunts him in the deep recesses of his mind and he shudders, realizing the truth of those words.

I’m too fucked up, Han. Don’t get too close to me. It’s for your own good.

(Y/N).

Funny how she blurted out those very words only yesterday night before he took her to bed. Before she disappeared in the dead of the night. Before Chanyeol whisked her away to God knows where.

“Tell me the truth, then”, Luhan mumbles down the line, allowing his eyelids to flutter open once more. The first thing he catches sight of is Sehun’s questioning expression staring at him from the interior of the car. Thankfully for Luhan, he’s rooted to his spot on the sidewalk and out of earshot of the receptionist.

“God, you’re still as thick-headed as ever”, Yoora mutters in his ear, and he can almost see her rolling her eyes on the other end. “I’ve missed you so much, asshole”.

In spite of it all, Luhan feels himself flush. Perhaps it’s due to the blazing heat. Oh, fucking hell. “Is that so?” The drug lord sighs, turning in the opposite direction so that Sehun can’t have a clear view of his flustered expression.

“Do you really have to ask?” Yoora retorts.

Luhan keeps his lips pinched together tightly, clenching his fists as a natural reflex to prevent the fond memories from flooding back through his mind. Suddenly, all he can think about is the lovely curve of Yoora’s breasts and the intoxicating memory of her milky-white skin, her entire naked body splayed across his bed and on full display for his eyes only.

No, no, no. You’re doing this for (Y/N). Get a grip of yourself, Han.

The drug lord clears his throat. “I-I’ve missed you too”, he admits in a low voice, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand just to give himself a distraction. He hates himself for how his voice shakes when he spits those words out, he despises how much truth is laced in those words. Three years ago seems like an eternity, especially after (Y/N) entered his life almost as soon as he walked out of Yoora’s without a word, but all it takes is the sound of her long-lost voice for everything to come flooding back like it was just yesterday.

He hears a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line and tenses instinctively, freezing up. The silence almost drives him insane and he presses a hand to his face, taking deep breaths to calm the hurricane of emotions building up within him. Then Yoora finally speaks.

“What do you need, Han?” She asks softly, instantly setting him at ease.

He lets out a whoosh of his own breath, uncurling his fingers. “You’re still willing to do me a favour? Even after-”

“Don’t bring up the past over the phone, Han”, she cuts in briskly, her voice thick. “Just get to the point”.

Tough love.

Inwardly wincing from her biting tone, Luhan continues to speak. “Are you still in touch with your brother?”

“Chanyeol? Not really, why?”

“Do you have any idea about his whereabouts? Where he’s living at the moment, or anything?”

“No”. Yoora pauses delicately, before continuing. “But I can help you, though”.

Excitement unfurls within Luhan like a sprouting flower and he grips the phone tightly, tensing up once more. “Oh God, can you?” He gasps. “Fucking hell, thank you so much-”

“On one condition”.

The drug lord is instantly caught off guard, his world tilting on its axis and for a moment, he feels like he’s spiralling out of control. But he keeps himself firmly planted on both feet, inhaling sharply. “And what’s that?”

As Yoora states her request, Luhan feels his ice-cold heart sink to the soles of his polished shoes and a lump starts to form in his throat. Pushing his fist up against his mouth, he fights against the frustrated tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, clenching his jaw so tightly that he’s surprised that his teeth don’t shatter into a million pieces.

Just like his heart.

“Do we have a deal?” Yoora asks once she’s done stating her request.

He has no other choice. So for the second time in three years, Luhan takes the plunge. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight”.

If I didn’t feel guilty about not thinking of Luhan then, I certainly do now. The guilt eats at my heart like a poison, tearing me apart from inside out as the memory of him echoes through the deep recesses of my mind.

I see him in every shape, in every form and in every touch as Chanyeol trails his hands over my hips, pulling me closer to him so that he has a better angle to attach his lips to my neck hungrily. To an outsider, this might look adoringly sweet, a pretty picture cleverly painted but I know it’s anything but.

I’m in deep shit for blatantly pointing a gun at my kidnapper. Who knows what he has in store for me?

As far as I know, his affection towards me is his most lethal weapon. He draws me in with his intoxicating kisses, bending me to his will and breaking through my carefully crafted wall of defence so that he put more of his manipulation skills into action.

He’s a master in tugging on my strings, controlling me like I’m a mere puppet. And yet, he is unable to get a hold on my mind. Hidden away from his mastermind manipulative skills, I turn the memory of Luhan over and over in the privacy of my own mind, clutching it close to my heart even as my body is bent to another man’s will.

The safety of Lu Corporations was in my control as soon as my hand closed around the rose-gold gun and jammed the barrel of it against Chanyeol’s chest. And just like that, I threw it away and allowed Chanyeol to turn the gun around on me with that gleeful smirk playing on his lips.

Why? I wonder to myself absentmindedly, faintly aware of large and foreign hands groping and grappling at the most private parts of me. The sensation of it all sends a mixture of disgust and desperation through my bones and I loathe myself for feeling even a hint of need for the man in front of me, exploring every inch of my being as though he owns me.

My eyelids flutter shut as he presses his lips against the sensitive area beneath my earlobe, my hands drifting down the length of his back. He leans into my touch, bumping his nose against my neck and this little action of affection causes goosebumps to break out on my arms, chills shuddering through me.

“Chanyeol, stop”. The words are weak, hanging in the air limply. They sound pathetic even to my own ears.

Chanyeol sighs against my flushed skin, his grip on me never slackening. “God, (Y/N). Are you going to be difficult again?”

I squirm in his arms in a vain attempt to wrestle myself away from him but I only end up getting myself in a headlock as his arm snakes itself around my neck, forcing me to stop struggling. “I’m not being difficult”, I gasp. “There’s something called personal space and if you don’t mind, I would like some of that”.

He scoffs dismissively. “So you have the chance to point a gun at me again, like the little shit you are?”

Threateningly, he tightens his arm around my neck. His hold on me isn’t enough to suffocate me but stars are starting to dance at the edge of my vision and fear is starting to grapple at my insides. “Chanyeol, let me go”, I rasp anxiously, starting to kick out at him.

In response, he starts to lean more of his weight on me and the threat of passing out descends upon me like a tidal wave. “Perhaps this is a good lesson for you, princess”, he sneers in my ear. “Fuck around with me one more time and you’ll be getting way worse than this”.

“Chanyeol, please”, I beg hoarsely, frantically clawing at his arm in fright. “Y-You’re hurting me”.

But he doesn’t release his hold on me. Instead, he leans on me even more, his larger physique covering my petite form and almost crushing me. It’s insufferably claustrophobic and I’m spurred on by my panic, propelled to drive my elbow backwards and ramming him straight in the jaw.

Chanyeol stumbles backwards, releasing his hold on me and I fall forward, greedily gasping for much-needed oxygen as the stars dancing on the edge of my vision fade away into nothing. Still buzzing with adrenalin and fear, I turn back to face him and I’m met with the sight of crimson blood dripping from his split lip, one of his hands pressed to the wound.

He emits a string of curses once he pulls his fingers away, staring at the blood staining the tips of his fingers. The glare he aims in my direction causes my limbs to freeze up, rooting me to the spot like a deer caught in headlights and I’m overwhelmed with numb panic, unable to react.

Even as he backhands me fresh across the face and I land on my back, sprawled across the cold concrete of the warehouse floor, I’m unable to do anything. Staring up at the blinding fluorescent lights, I’m overwhelmed with a sense of bewilderment and shock. I knew that Chanyeol definitely isn’t going to be awarded gentleman of the year and that he’s more than a little rough around the edges but the fact that he’d just blatantly struck me sharply across the face leaves me reeling in shock.

Perhaps some deeper part of me actually trusted him enough to respect our boundaries but after this, it seems like he’d thrown my trust in the trash. Just like my heart.

Mustering up enough energy, I turn onto my side and bury my face in the sleeve of the bomber jacket I’m wearing to hide my shame. The scent of the jacket wafts up my nostrils, reminding of the lingering aftershave fragrance in the bathroom back at Chanyeol’s house and with a jolt, I realize that the jacket I have on belongs to him.

It feels like the door to getting back to Luhan has been slammed shut in my face. Not only has Chanyeol left his mark on me by sleeping with me; now his scent is practically imprinted on my skin, residing in me and acting as the final claim for him.

“Now do you understand why you should’ve gotten rid of me?” Chanyeol’s raspy voice fills the empty silence of the warehouse, penetrating through the protective wall of the jacket which I’ve yanked over myself. “You’re going to have to put up with me, and that is only your damn fault, (Y/N). You held a gun in your hand, your finger dancing on a trigger and yet, you chose to keep me around. Why’s that?”

I don’t respond. Not because I don’t know what to say but because I’m mustering up the courage to speak. With a deep breath, I lift my head to gaze at him, albeit still quivering internally. His expression is completely unreadable, like a flat line on a heart monitor.

“Would you ask a drug addict why he’s addicted to drugs?” I ask quietly.

Chanyeol furrows his brow at that, eyes narrowing. “The answer would be obvious. People can’t ever get enough of the things that are no good for them”.

I smile sadly. “Exactly”.

A smirk crosses his face. “Luhan wouldn’t be too happy to hear that”.

He crosses the warehouse, closing the distance between the two of us and staring down at me. His eyes are dark and stormy, as though there’s a hurricane building up deep within him and I wouldn’t trade anything to get rid of the storm which goes by the name of Park Chanyeol.

As much as the guilt gnaws away at me, I can’t find the willpower to walk away. The ghost of Luhan at the back of my mind screams at me to get up, grow a backbone and stand up to the monster who dragged me into this situation in the first place.

The monster glowering down at me beckons me to get to my feet and fall into his arms and poisonous embrace, which I do. Up close, I can see the nasty split of his lip where my elbow came into contact with earlier on and I don’t feel guilty for that either.

The clothes I have on are instantly stripped off me, falling into a puddle at my feet as Chanyeol’s hands work briskly, fingertips dancing across my bare skin tauntingly. The oversized bomber jacket I’m wearing is the first article of clothing to be discarded, completely abandoned on the cold concrete ground.

“As much as I love seeing you in my clothes”, he remarks with a chuckle, “you look way better when they’re off”.

Vulnerably naked, he shoves me up against the wall with my back to him. With my cheek pressed against the concrete, he catches both of my wrists and twists them behind my back, the familiar sensation of icy metal coming in contact with my skin. He clicks the handcuffs in place, locking my wrists together behind my back and before I can protest, a blindfold drops over my eyes, encasing me in total darkness.

Instantly, my other senses are sharpened and I tremble uncontrollably, waiting in anticipation for whatever is to come next. The next thing I’m aware of is that I’m pushed back against the nearby table, sprawled across the tabletop flat on my back with my legs wide open. Cool air tickles at my exposed and soaking womanhood, sending chills up my spine.

“Rule number one”, Chanyeol growls in that irresistibly husky voice of his, “is that you don’t release until I say so. Is that clear, princess?”

I nod feverishly, prompting him to carry on.

“Rule number two is that you do not say a word unless I allow you to”, he ticks off, as though going down a list.

Again, I bob my head obediently in acknowledgement. Even with my blindfold on, I can almost see the shit-eating grin playing on Chanyeol’s lips as I hear his footsteps approach me, his fingertips grazing across the bare skin of my thighs teasingly.

Then the silence is broken by the low hum of a vibration and my stomach flips, anxiety and excitement twisting themselves up in me. Ah, fuck.

Without a further thought, I break the second rule. “Oh no, Chanyeol, please-”

“Shut up”, Chanyeol snaps. His voice seems a million miles away, like as though he’s speaking through a cardboard tube but I know better. He’s hovering over me, judging by the vibrations reverberating in his hand.

He presses the vibrator against my clit gently and instantly, my hips buck upwards at the intoxicating sensation. A whimper builds up at the back of my throat, threatening to slip out of my lips but I bite down on my lower lip hard, so hard that I can almost taste the familiar iron tang of blood.

As the seconds tick by, tears of ecstasy start to form in my eyes, trickling down the sides of my face and dampening the soft material of the blindfold. I want nothing more than to scream in full-blown pleasure and explode all over the table but I maintain steady control over my body, focusing on my breathing.

My heart pounds in time to the intensity of the vibration, my fingers curling up and digging into the cold steel of the handcuffs. The familiar heat builds up in the pit of my stomach, as a result of the frustratingly addictive sensation of that goddamned vibrator. As if he can sense my well-concealed pleasure, Chanyeol clicks the vibrator to a higher intensity, almost causing to scream out in impulsive ecstasy.

I’ve been trained to hold my orgasms back thanks to the past three years of being in a sex-filled industry. If anything, I’m a pro at controlling the way my body reacts to the touches it receives, careful to not give away too much to any of my clients. Sure, I’ve orgasmed for every single one of them but to me, orgasms are something special. Orgasming for someone is like giving away a special part of myself, and I don’t do that for just anyone.

To make a living, yes. I don’t have a choice there. But the only time I really opened myself up was when I was with Luhan, my body turning to putty in his sexual care like I’ve never done before. The sex we had was tender, caring and emotionally packed.

This is totally different. This is addictive, toxic and dangerous. This is like fucking drugs. Once I get my fix, it’s never going to be enough. I need this, I need to climax, I need-

“You’ve got more willpower than I gave you credit for, princess”, Chanyeol remarks, breaking through my train of thought abruptly.

If only he knew.

With the vibrator turned up to such an agonizingly high intensity, pressing against my throbbing clit and sending tremors through my form, I’m so close to my release that stars are starting to dance at the edge of my black vision once more, clinging to the edge of the cliff by the tips of my fingernails.

The low rumble of his throaty laughter is like a symphony to my buzzing ears, acting as the sole sign that at least I’m not left all alone to the erotic torture of the vibrator. At least he’s somewhere nearby, still hovering over me and close enough for me to-

Chanyeol’s lips land on mine before I have the opportunity to make the mistake of verbally begging for some sort of physical contact, dragging me even further down into the pool of passion which I’m already drowning in. He feels warm against me, his bare skin burning against mine and I absentmindedly wonder how the hell he managed to undress himself so swiftly and quietly with only one hand since his other hand is so preoccupied with torturing me with that vibrator of his.

But what the hell, honestly.

This is some good shit and instantly, his earlier rules fly out of mind. Lifting my head, I catch his lower lip in between my teeth and tug roughly, relishing the sharp and metallic tang of blood from his wound. In response, he emits a growl and shoves the vibrator up against my clit not too gently, his fingers clicking the highest intensity.

The sensation has me finally screaming in pure bliss, heat twisting up in me frantically as my orgasm builds itself up in time to the rhythmic hums of the toy pressed against my womanhood. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about his rule of not speaking until I’m told to, my heart slamming with frantic desperation.

“Chanyeol!” I beg, the tears soaking through the blindfold. My hands strain against the restraints of the handcuffs, rubbing my wrists raw as incoherent sobs tumble from my lips. All feelings of guilt fly out the window as I’m clouded by my own selfish need to be fulfilled, my hips bucking up to meet Chanyeol’s eagerly.

With his body pressed against mine and his free hand tracing a fiery path down my stomach and weaving its way down to my crying womanhood, I’m blinded and blown beyond belief. For the moment, nothing else matters. It’s just me and Chanyeol, our bodies moulded together and shielded against the rock-hard reality of the world. We’re just two beings floated in a paradise of physical ecstasy, holding onto each other for some form of relief.

The vibrator is replaced with one of his fingers, prodding gently at my entrance. I mewl pathetically, my body convulsing at his touch and he chuckles lowly, lips brushing against the length of my jaw almost affectionately. “You can’t ever keep your mouth shut, can you?”

“I’m sorry”, I sob. “I-I need you”.

“Whore”, he mocks, pressing the pad of his thumb against my overly sensitive clit and rubbing tight little circles over it in an agonizingly slow motion.

Yes. Yes, I am.

I’m Luhan’s whore.

The thought jolts me back to reality, my body jerking against Chanyeol’s touch automatically and he mistakes it for pleasure, proceeding to slide his index finger in between my soaking folds and pumping it enthusiastically. My back flies off the tabletop, my body craving for something so much more fulfilling and the faint memory of Luhan darts across my mind’s eye.

In the window of my mind, I see my beloved drug lord smiling down at me fondly as he works me up to my climax, gently coaxing me to release just for him. I fantasize about him sliding three more fingers into my wetness, toying with my clit with his thumb. I pretend that it’s him whispering degrading words down at me, I pretend it’s him pleasuring me to my fullest.

And as I explode all over the tabletop, my mind is utterly filled up with the image of Luhan, albeit the different name tumbling from my lips. I wail out Chanyeol’s name to the beat of Luhan in my heart, allowing myself to fall to pieces in the arms of the wrong man.

But if it’s wrong, then why does it feel so right? Nothing’s that bad if it feels good, right?

The phone call from his sister comes through as soon as Chanyeol rolls off the table and starts gathering up his discarded clothes, leaving (Y/N) to catch her breath after a mind-blowing orgasm from his earlier finger-fucking. Without a word, Chanyeol swipes up his phone and slips out of the warehouse, shutting the front door behind him as he answers the call.

“Long time no talk, Yoora”, he says coolly, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder.

His sister heaves a sigh on the other end of the line and for a second, the familiarity of it sends a pang of longing coursing through Chanyeol’s veins. It’s been three years since he last spoke to his sister and he’d always secretly vowed that he would give her the cold shoulder if she ever hit him up again. But somehow, he finds himself wavering and pouncing on the phone as soon as he caught sight of her caller ID, much to his chagrin.

“Baby brother”, Yoora purrs in his ear, her voice causing his heart to clench in his chest. “How’ve you been?”

Chanyeol almost barks out a laugh at her nonchalance, turning back to glance at the warehouse behind him. If only his big sister knew what he’d been up to with his boss’s lover; she would be horrified.

“Fine and dandy, Yoora”, he replies smoothly. “How about you? What do you need?”

“Oh, this has got nothing to do with me. I don’t need anything. It’s Luhan who needs to know”.

Chanyeol stiffens, fists clenching at his sides at the mere mention of the drug lord’s poisonous name. “What the fuck does he want?”

“Your location”, Yoora states matter-of-factly. “And you can’t weasel your way out of this, Yeol. The two of us sealed the deal when he agreed to sleep with me”.

“What the fuck?” Chanyeol hollers down the line, his temper rising rapidly. “Yoora, he treated you like a mere whore three years ago! Why the hell did you sleep with him again? Why did you associate yourself with the man who made our lives a living hell?”

Yoora clucks her tongue, just chuckling at him and Chanyeol feels himself flush like the little brother he is, embarrassed by his elder sister’s mockery. “Believe it or not, it was Luhan who came scrambling to me for help. He mentioned something about getting a friend back. What on earth have you been up to?”

He completely ignores the question. “Did you tell him about my whereabouts?”

“I have no flipping idea of where you even live now, baby brother. Which is exactly why I’m talking to you right now”.

“Don’t tell him anything yet”, he interjects hastily. “Stall him. I have some shit to sort out. I’ll give you the go head when I’m done”.

“Great. Gives me more time to fuck around with him a little more”.

Chanyeol stifles a groan at that. “We need a long talk about moral compasses one day, big sister”.

She snorts. “Something which Dad never taught us both”.

He hangs up without another word, huffing as he does so. Normally, he detests the topic of his own father but as of now, he has more pressing issues at hand and he doesn’t give his long-lost family member much thought, choosing to worry about Luhan instead. The goddamned drug lord was willing to give up his morality and dignity to his own sister just to attain information on where (Y/N) might be, and Chanyeol inwardly cringes.

He can understand the fact that Luhan is dying to get (Y/N) back, but actually sleeping with someone in exchange for her whereabouts? Either the drug lord must be desperate or lacking a moral compass. Not that Chanyeol has much say in that, considering the fact that he’s been emotionally manipulating his boss’s lover and shacking up with her.

The club Chanyeol drives us to is completely packed at this time of the evening, packed with gyrating bodies on the dance floor and the familiar sour stench of alcohol lingering in the congested air. Deafening music rocks the entire place, pounding through my bones as Chanyeol leads me further into the crowd by the hand.

I struggle to match his pace, my little legs a faraway cry from his long and lanky ones so eventually, I give up and allow him to string me along, my gaze fixed firmly on the back of his bomber jacket. The printed words ‘May the bridges I burn light the way’ stare back at me and I make a mental note to compliment his fashion sense later on.

As of now, he leads me up to the bar a few feet away from the dance floor and its flashing neon lights, helping me up onto one of the barstools at the furthest corner. He pulls himself up on the seat next to me, signalling to the bartender with a raised hand and a knowing smile.

“What would you like?” Chanyeol asks me once the young bartender makes his way over to us, eyebrows raised expectantly.

I look up at him in surprise. “Um…nothing too strong. Perhaps a diet coke?”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes at my request, shooting an exasperated look at the expressionless bartender. “You heard her. Get her a coke. As for me, I want some gin. The strongest one”.

The bartender bows his head respectfully, turning his back on us and starting on our drinks and leaving me staring up at Chanyeol’s side profile curiously. “Why are you being so generous?” I can’t resist asking.

“Aren’t I always?” He cocks up an eyebrow perfectly, attempting to appear casual.

I say nothing, pressing my lips together thoughtfully and clearly unimpressed. He senses this and sighs, leaning an elbow on the table and leaning in closer to me. “Look”, he says seriously, “take this as an apology for earlier on. I didn’t mean to lash out at you”.

At his words, my jaw starts to throb once more, a haunting memory of how he backhanded me earlier on. Flushing, I drop my gaze to the bartop, fiddling with my fingers just to give myself something to do. The silence between us thickens despite the pounding music filling the dark interior of the club and as the seconds tick by, I feel my heartbeat quicken. I say nothing, do nothing, just completely frozen in my seat even as Chanyeol’s large hand closes over mine on top of the bar, his long fingers splayed across mine.

“(Y/N)”, he whispers, his voice terrifyingly audible even with the music blasting in the background. His touch burns through me, flooding every one of my senses and I feel an unknown feeling build up deep inside me, ready to erupt at any given moment. My body starts to tremble in time to the beat of the music, the flashing neon lights causing my head to throb in the most wonderful way possible. Combine that feeling with the way Chanyeol murmurs my name in my ear like a symphony and I feel myself crack under it all.

As though they have a life of their own, my hands grab fistfuls of his bomber jacket and I drag him off the barstool and towards the dance floor, losing ourselves in the gyrating crowd. The neon lights surround us like our own spotlight, illuminating our bodies beautifully. The music finds its way into our systems, propelling me to wrap my arms around his neck and stand on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips daringly, sparks of passionate electricity bleeding through my veins at the shock of the physical contact.

Chanyeol reciprocates graciously, lifting me up into his arms and deepening the kiss. He’s as greedy as a starved man, taking me in like an animal and practically devouring me. He gives zero fucks about the gyrating, grinding bodies around us, his focus honing in on me and only me. There’s a noticeable spark in his dark eyes, almost lighting up the entire club and I wonder what it is. Love? Lust? Possessiveness?

Whatever the spark represents, I’m glad it’s there. It’s a clear indication that he’s physically and mentally present with me, seeing and breathing nothing but me. Everything -the music, the lights, the people- melts away, encasing the two of us in our little lust-filled bubble.

However, our bubble is heartlessly popped as soon as someone grabs my arm from behind, yanking me out of Chanyeol’s warm embrace. I stumble backwards, toppling clumsily into the arms of another man who’s explicitly drunk, his sour breath hitting my cheek as he leers down at me like a predator, his beefy arms entwined around my waist and crushing me to him.

“What’s a pretty chick like you doing with a bastard like that?” The man slurs, jerking his hand in Chanyeol’s direction while nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. Shock causes me to freeze up, my stunned gaze fixated on Chanyeol’s face as I kick out at the unfamiliar man uselessly.

To say that Chanyeol is a little pissed off is an understatement; he’s raging, his dark eyes containing a storm as he lunges forward at the same time I drive my elbow back into the man’s face frantically. The drunkard releases his hold on me, stumbling backwards and that’s when Chanyeol leaps in for the blow, his clenched fists colliding with the man’s jaw as quick as lightning.

A deafening crack echoes throughout the club, barely concealed by the music. Instantly, the gyrating bodies come to a halt as they observe the escalating violence with eager interest. The drunkard clutches his bruised jaw, swaying unsteadily on his two feet as he points a shaky finger at Chanyeol threateningly.

“You little fucker”, he rumbles, slurring his words pathetically. “I’ll fucking pound you in-”

He doesn’t get the chance to complete his sentence before Chanyeol grabs him by the collar, slamming him up against the wall. The man’s eyes practically roll back due to the impact, clawing at Chanyeol’s large hands weakly.

“Look, man”, the drunkard pants. “Chill. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t fucking touch my girl!” Chanyeol roars, silencing the animated chatter occurring amongst the crowd of bystanders. He slams the drunkard back against the wall once more for emphasis, resulting in a ripple of admirable gasps from the crowd while the other man cowers away, dropping his gaze to the ground squeamishly.

“She’s mine”, Chanyeol hisses. “And nobody touches what is mine. Got that, prick?”

The drunkard nods frantically, obviously sober enough to understand a threat when he hears one. Satisfied, Chanyeol releases his hold on the man’s collar and turns around to face me, striding over to where I’m frozen a few feet away and grabbing me by the arm, leading me away from the gawping crowd.

The two of us plunge into the darker depths of the club, the music dimming as we turn down a corridor. Once my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can see that we’re in one of the unoccupied backrooms and that we’re completely alone, hidden away from the crowd. With a jolt of realization, I notice how heavy my breathing has grown in the span of a few minutes, still shaken up from the earlier events.

“Fucking prick”. Chanyeol’s muttered words serve as a distraction from my reeling thoughts, snapping me back to reality. The storm in his eyes hasn’t dissipated, roiling on in him like a poisonous hurricane and a blush colours my cheeks.

Tentatively, I poke his arm and he looks down at me, his brow furrowed. “You’re always so angry”, I remark.

He looks at me incredulously. “What did you expect me to do? Allow him to cop off with you? Allow him to touch you up with those disgusting hands of his? Nobody fucking touches my things!”

“Thing?” Offense bleeds through my words and I place my hands on my hips, trying to look intimidating to a man who’s at least six feet tall and towering over my five feet form like a skyscraper. “I’m just a mere thing to you?”

A snarl curls his upper lip. “You belong to me and that tells you enough”.

That remark hits home and I return the snarl. “I belong to nobody. Don’t get ahead of yourself”.

“Pretty mouths like yours spit a lot of pretty lies, (Y/N)”. His snarl morphs into a grin and he reaches out, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and dragging me towards him, engulfing me in his body heat. I don’t bother struggling, already knowing that it’ll be in vain.

Instead, I peer up at him from beneath my eyelashes, cocking my head to the side with the perfect balance of innocence and sultriness. It’s one of the insignificant actions which I’ve been practicing for the longest time, armed with the secret knowledge that it’s something which seems to drive men insane, a clear cut path to their hearts. “My mouth can do a lot more than just spitting out pretty lies”, I say suggestively, pursing my lips in a full-blown pout.

This does wonders to Chanyeol, who raises an eyebrow in question. “You’re a very complex person, (Y/N)”.

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m very simple-minded, to be honest. Just give me attention and good sex and let me suck your dick when I want to, and you’ve already won me over”.

“So in other words, you’re like a needy, cock-sucking kitten who’s also very bratty and stubborn and difficult when she wants to be”.

“If you put it that way, then yeah”.

We eye each other for the longest time like two boxers gearing up before a match, tension sizzling in the air, so thick that you could cut through it with a knife. In all the years I’ve been with Luhan, I’ve never encountered such cold and calculative silence in which we size each other up before plunging in into the pool of heated passion.

Chanyeol is totally out of my league. He’s a language I can’t understand, no matter how hard I try. While Luhan was art, a complete masterpiece crafted by experts and the wonders of the business world, Chanyeol is graffiti. Rough around the edges and crudely created, he’s not flawless but he’s artistic in his own rough way.

And I’m the poor sucker who is stuck at a crossroad, forced to pick the better piece of artwork when I’m someone who doesn’t understand art in the first place.

“I don’t understand”, I find myself quietly remarking, my gaze never straying from Chanyeol’s unreadable expression. In the dim lighting of the backroom, his features look beautifully sculptured, sharp and prominent and gorgeous, and my heart clenches in sore guilt. He looks so different from Luhan, so fresh and real and a far cry from the trademark polished demeanour that all businessmen wear.

“Understand what?” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, rumbling through my bones like thunder.

I look him dead in the eye, reaching out to take one of his large hands in my small ones. “You”.

A bark of bitter laughter is what I get in response, his fingers curling around mine possessively. “Nobody does, (Y/N). Don’t even bother trying”.

“I’m going to, anyway”, I retort. “I’m going to find out why you are the way you are now, even if it hurts me. You’ve hurt me enough anyway, so this is nothing”.

“I’m too fucked up, (Y/N). Don’t get too close to me. It’s for your own good”.

“Funny that you said that. I remember telling Luhan the exact same thing”.

He cups my cheeks in the palms of his hands, leaning in to rest his forehead against mine and staring deep into my eyes. Our close proximity sends an anticipating chill through me, the hairs at the back of my neck standing on end.

“Are you really in love with Luhan?” He asks.

The question is a shock to my system, my world instantly tilting on its axis and spiralling out of control like a careening car skidding on its tyres. I’m dumbfounded, completely numb as my mind struggles to process the stumping question.

Am I really in love with Luhan? Or am I just in love with the money and attention he’s been lavishing on me for the past few years? Or were the two of us just lonely souls seeking sanctuary in each other, to fill up the gaping holes in our hearts?

My hesitation is answer enough for Chanyeol, who runs the pad of his thumb over my lips soothingly. “I knew it”, he murmurs, more to himself rather than to me. But I hear it anyway.

A sigh escapes from me. No words are needed; the meaning is utterly crystal clear to our ears. It’s like a moment of complete peace and serenity surrounding us, enveloping us in a warm blanket of comfort and understanding.

Until Chanyeol reaches into the pocket of his bomber jacket and produces the familiar rose-gold gun, a leering grin peeling at his lips as he presses the barrel of it against my temple. His finger hovers dangerously close to the trigger and my heart gallops into my throat at the open threat, my blood turning cold.

“Chanyeol”, I whisper, “what are you doing?”

He ignores me, pulling out his phone and punching in a few numbers before placing it on speaker mode, the blare of a droning dialling tone filling the air. Before I can protest further, an oh-so-familiar voice pipes up, sending an ache through me.

Luhan is frantic, his words dripping with a mixture of indignation, anger and anxiety. His questions come like bullets. “Chanyeol? Is that you? What the fuck do you think you’re playing at? Where’s (Y/N)?”

Chanyeol jams the gun’s barrel against my temple again, shooting me a knowing look. “Say something”, he hisses beneath his breath, soft enough so that Luhan can’t hear.

I swallow. “H-Hello, Luhan?”

The shakiness of my voice halts Luhan right in his tracks and I can sense the tension settling around him like a dark storm cloud. “(Y/N)? Is that you?”

“Y-Yes”.

“Where are you, (Y/N)? Are you okay?”

In a swift motion, Chanyeol pulls the gun away from my head and aims a shot at the nearby wall, the bang screaming through the air and paralysing me in fear, my fists clenched by my sides tightly. On the other end of the line, Luhan emits a strangled sound of fear.

“What the flying fuck?” He yells. “(Y/N)! (Y/N), what’s going on?”

Chanyeol takes over, placing the speaker of the phone near his mouth as he tucks the gun back into his pocket. “Hello there, Mr Lu”, he says smoothly, the smugness clearly evident in his voice.

I hear Luhan inhale sharply. “Chanyeol, what on earth are you playing at?”

“Playing?” Chanyeol mock gasps for dramatic effect. “Why, Mr Lu, how could you think so lowly of me? After what you’ve been doing with my sister and you accuse me of playing?”

“Don’t bring your sister up”, the drug lord hisses venomously. “I did what I could to get (Y/N) back. And I will get her back, one way or another”.

“Ah, true love. How revolting”. Rolling his eyes, Chanyeol scoffs down the line while studying his cuticles in a display of boredom. “Listen up, Lu. If you want her back, make your way down to the club downtown and we’ll talk then”.

“Fine. Just keep your hands off her”.

Chanyeol chuckles at that, leaning forward and trailing a finger over my lips. “Of course, Mr Lu. I won’t lay a finger on her”.

Luhan would be lying if he said that he doesn’t feel a pang of guilt as he rolls out of Yoora’s king-sized bed and proceeds to don on his creased clothes, his fingers trembling as he buttons up his shirt.

Yoora watches him wordlessly, the white duvet wrapped around her naked body and her ebony hair mussed up in the loveliest way possible, framing her heart-shaped jaw prettily. As she observes his every move, she finally speaks.

“Do you love her?”

Luhan’s head jolts up and he blinks at her in bewilderment, pausing in the midst of buttoning up his shirt. “Who?”

“(Y/N). The girl you told me about. You seem crazy about her”.

The drug lord hesitates, carefully considering his words before responding. “I don’t know”.

Yoora’s eyes widen. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know if I’m in love or just lonely”, the drug lord explains earnestly. “It’s complicated”.

“Well, I’m in love with you”.

“I know you are”. Luhan cracks a watery smile, donning his suit jacket and proceeding to pull on his shoes.

“And I know you reciprocate my feelings. Somehow, some way, you still keep the little flame of me alive in your heart. You’re a readable person, Han. You can’t fool me”.

“I don’t intend to fool anyone”. Hopping up, Luhan directs a patronizing smile back at Yoora as he makes his way to the door. But her voice halts him right in his tracks, reeling him back.

“You’ll come back to me”, she remarks matter-of-factly. “I know you will”.

Luhan says nothing. Instead, he pivots on his heel and bolts for the door in a vain attempt to run away from the guilt eating away at his heart like an unstoppable poison.

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