#and i wanted to also put medic in the most obnoxious outfit you ever did see | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1kook · 4 years ago

Text

imax & climax

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

His mom was going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it was.

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

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

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

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get off of me.”

——

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

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

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

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kominum · 4 years ago

Text

rewatching old sailor moon and thought of like... disgruntled tuxedo mask!corpse but with unrequited love because i’m a glutton for angst

wc: ~2.2k

warnings: death of a minor character, implicit knowledge of sailor moon lore, modern twist, unedited

please send in ideas you might have that i could write short blurbs for! this was honestly fun to write.

It’s a scratch he can’t itch. It’s what has him waking up in cold sweats, confused and moderately annoyed that his hard-earned sleep has been so rudely interrupted. He hates the cape, he hates the itchy suit, he abhors the top hat – and the only things he doesn’t really hate are his baton and endless supply of darkened roses.

The first time he transformed, he was half-asleep and struggling to understand why he was speeding down the highway and parking two blocks away from some random back alley. His pain was relatively dulled, which was surprising, and his body suddenly possessed a world of fighting skills that felt foreign yet familiar. All he could recognize was a slightly disheveled woman cursing and just trying her best against some odd form of demon spawn, and before he knew it, he’d thrown down a dark purple rose and engaged in combat. Once said woman found an opening, she took off her headband/tiara, performed a throw that would put professional frisbee players to shame, and the monster disintegrated into dust.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, body hunched over and hands on his knees. “What the fuck was that?”

“More like who the fuck are you?”

“Fuck if I know,” he muttered and dusted himself off.

“What’s with your get-up anyways?” She failed to hide her snickering. “You’re 3 decades behind.”

“Do I look like I want to fight in a suit? Plus, you’re fighting in some rendition of a schoolgirl uniform.” Her black thigh-high boots were killer, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.

“You should’ve seen what it was before, but I was able to make some changes. Good heads-up for you and—”

“Sailor Moon, are you okay?!”

Oh. So she’s got a talking cat, too. What in fresh hell was going on? Did he take something? But also—“Your name is Sailor Moon?”

“We’re working on the name change,” she grumbled, bending down to let said feline jump up her arm and settle on her shoulder. “Anyways, uh…thanks. I was kind of in a bind, but I’m usually not I swear. Good timing, I guess?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it.” But she was already in the wind, hopping from roof to roof with no inhibitions, and left him completely dumbfounded.

His silly attire dissolved back into his previous clothing as he ambled back towards his car, thought not exactly at his own will. But he shrugged, slid into the car seat, and dialed the only person he could think of who would readily pick up at this ungodly hour of…2:37AM. That was just the start, and he can’t tell if things went downhill from there.

He should backtrack.

He met you almost two years ago at a hospital.

You had been waiting anxiously for your boyfriend to come out of surgery after being in a bad car accident, biting your nails, occasionally pacing back and forth, smoothing your hands worriedly against your jeans, and gnawing your bottom lip to death. It was midday, sometime after lunch, and he’d come in for some routine checkup he can’t remember what for now, and sat a few seats away from you in the tiny hospital coffee shop. He’s no therapist or expert, but he highly doubted that any caffeine would alleviate your anxiety. Yet you sat there with two to-go cups and a granola bar wrapper, and something told him to stick around for now.

He’s never been one for a lot of small talk, but you looked to be about his age and no one else was with you. Tragedy tasted most bitter when alone, and some force of the universe told him to at least say something, anything. So he stuffed his hands into his hoodie and shuffled awkwardly to your table, tentatively asking a, “Hey, uh…is everything okay?”

You’d looked up at him with wild eyes on the verge of tears, heart battering against your chest, and the only intelligible thing that left your mouth was a “Huh?”

And he’d casted a gentle grin, eyes laced with a mixture of pity and concern, and asked again his first question. “My boyfriend’s in surgery. He got in a bad accident. There’s um…roughly two hours left, I think.”

“And you thought coffee would make it better?” He jutted his chin towards your large cups.

“Hot chocolate,” you chuckled. “I’m not keen on torturing myself like that, not now at least.”

“Well, I’ve got an appointment soon but I should be done before his surgery’s over…want me to come check up on you?”

Dumbfounded was the best way to describe your expression, and he was so close to retracting his offer before you gave him one of the most thankful smiles he’d seen in many years. “I’d really appreciate that.”

He nodded. “Sounds good then. Give me a sec.”

At the counter, he paid for another cup of hot chocolate and added in a chocolate chip cookie for good measure before bringing it back to you. “I hear chocolate helps.”

“Thank you, again. Go, don’t want to make you late.”

But an hour and a half later in the waiting area outside surgery, the doctor came out with a solemn expression, and you all but collapsed into the plastic chairs, tears leaking like waterfalls from your eyes. Part of him wanted to bail and go because there wasn’t much he could do, but it wouldn’t be right to leave you to drive home now. He wanted to make sure that you were calmed down, all cried out, and breathing properly so you could at least operate a vehicle safely.

The same unknown force had him offering you his number in case you needed anyone to talk to, yet the conversation sat empty for weeks until curiosity and guilt ate at him. He tapped out a message, deleting it, then another one, more deleting, before he settled on a plain, “It’s the guy from the hospital. I know it’s been a while but…how are you?”

Your reply was almost instantaneous, to which he worried if he’d accidentally woken you up at 4:13AM. First, it’s a casual, “hey, thanks for checking up on me! I’m doing okay,” but he knew better. And the other shoe dropped in the form of a simple, “I miss him.”

It’s a quiet, heartwarming friendship. You know nothing specific about him – he’s incredibly vague on any identifying information. Hell, you’d be willing to bet that the name at the hospital was a fake one. Nevertheless, he’s one of your closest friends. You know he mainly works online, has a lot of trouble sleeping, is chronically ill and has a number of medical conditions, his general disposition and feelings on things, but overall, just wonderfully easy to talk to.

Yet something just feels wrong about falling in love with him. It’s a horrid combination of guilt and disbelief. Are you rebounding? Are you subconsciously searching for your dead ex-boyfriend? Are you so desperate for romantic connections that you’ve twisted yourself into believing you love a man that you’ve seen fewer times than the number of fingers you have?

You come to peace with it when his custom ringtone chimes softly on your nightstand in the middle of the night. Rain or shine, stars or none, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him. Nothing has ever woken you up so quickly, not even alarms on interview days. “Hello?”

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Kind of, but it’s fine. What’s up? Wait,” you interrupt yourself and listen carefully to your speaker. “Are you…driving?”

“…yeah.”

“Should I ask from or to where?”

“I…honestly don’t know. Something felt off, felt like I had to get out of my place and just fucking do something. So uh, I drove somewhere and just started driving back home.”

You curl up under your sheets on your side and plug your earbuds into the phone. “Well, did it get rid of whatever you were feeling?”

“I think so? Honestly couldn’t fucking tell you. Still really bizarre to me.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you murmur. “Well, feel free to call me whenever you feel like that again.”

“I don’t wanna fuck up your sleep schedule though. Feel like it’ll happen more often than I’d like.”

“How about this – if I don’t pick up, it’ll just be my nice way of saying ‘fuck off, too busy sleeping right now’?”

A soft, deep chuckle warms your chest and cheeks. “Sounds good. So how’ve you been?”

“Well, you know…”

It’s the same night that you think you might have a chance at love again. You fall asleep with his voice weaving stories and tales in your ears and wake up to a message that says, “Wow, didn’t know I was so fucking boring that it made you snore so loud.” The hope that creeps through your veins is dangerous and thrums urgently whenever you get a call or message from him.

And as bright as a star, it all comes crashing down in a firey blaze.

You crash into a girl as mysterious and serenely beautiful as the moon with a talking black cat one afternoon. She exudes a gorgeous amount of confidence in her stance as she protects you from a creature that looks like it’s out of a horror video game, and you can only stare in awe. The cat from before yells instructions at you, throwing what looks like a pen with a red cap on it and you blindly follow them. Your subsequent red heels feel incredibly comfortable and you can’t remember the last time you wore a skirt – but there’s no time to ponder as you push the girl you were admiring out of harm’s way and somehow manage to direct fire at them from your fingertips.

The monster burns and screams in agony before getting hit with what looks like a glowing frisbee. Your savior wipes the dust off her outfit before extending a hand out to you, “Welcome to the club, Sailor Mars.”

Say what now?

“There’s gotta be a better name than that,” is the first thing you say as you get pulled up. She throws her head back and lets out a charmingly obnoxious laugh. “We’ll work on changing it. I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.”

“Her name ended up being a rip-off of my name,” the cat quips and receives a scowl from the supposed plagiarizer. “I’m Luna, and this is Sailor Moon, or Lunaria she says.”

“You gotta admit, that’s cutting it a little close,” you agree and Lunaria flips the bird. “How the fuck am I going to change Sailor Mars? Also, can I do anything about this outfit?”

“We can go shopping tomorrow for sure. Luna and I can fill you on everything and – oh, before I forget, there’s a guy—”

“So it looks like you don’t need my help?”

You freeze in your steps, startled by the familiar baritone approaching you two. He was involved in all this?

“I told you, I don’t need your help—”

“Is she new?”

“Yeah, which means, we really don’t need your help. She’s got actual fire power. Literal fire.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool,” he accepts. “Good to meet you.”

You spot a set of veiny fingers that appears in your peripheral and you tentatively turn in his direction, hoping that your hair will obstruct your face as much as possible. “Same,” your throat manages to squeak out as his warm hand engulfs yours in a firm handshake.

“Get out of here, Corpse,” Lunaria chides and lets go of you to push a finger to his chest.

“I’m only here because you fucking needed saving. Now you’ve got another person dragged in.”

“I told you, I’m not some fucking damsel in distress,” she hisses. The mirth in his visible eye only causes the infuriation to grow and swirl more vigorously in her gut.

You watch the exchange from the sidelines as Corpse’s teasing only increases and provokes Lunaria further, disheartened that you’ve never heard him laugh so much in one exchange before. Dread from deep within your veins begins to freeze around your heart, something so set and undeniable that causes your brain to realize that falling in love with him was a mistake. It was the kind of mistake that would strike you with pain for years and the intense foreshadowing has you spinning on your heel and bounding through an alleyway. Your outfit shifts back to what you’d been wearing before, the characteristic weight of your phone in your back pocket seeming heavier than ever.

You call him that night, holding in a deep breath when the dial tone breaks midway. A rustle, a breath, and then, “Hey what’s up?”

Oh god, you scream to yourself as your heart shatters at the bottom of your chest. His voice, again, cannot be misconstrued as anyone else’s – the inflection, the tone, the volume, everything belonged to him.

And the universe told you then and there that he, undoubtedly, belonged to her.

#corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #sailor moon!au #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband angst #corpse angst

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aespawpaq · 3 years ago

Text

Netflix and Chill (3)

IMAX and CLIMAX

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

His mom was going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it was.

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

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

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today… well.

You were playing a different game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get off of me.”

——

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

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riotwritesthings · 5 years ago

Text

Coffee and Bad Words

WinterIron, T, 1.5K, convenient amnesia

For the @winterironmonth

Fun fact, this is probably my favorite prompt I’ve written for the month so far it’s so goofy I regret nothing.

SFW Wednesday, Amnesia AND “All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

Bucky walks into the lab with a half formed plan for how he’s going to try and coax Tony out. The man’s been locked up down there playing with some weird bit of tech they picked up on their last mission for almost 36 hours now, and everyone is starting to get concerned. Bucky is pretending not to know why he was chosen for this job.

The doors open for him, and the second he steps into the the lab Tony spins to point at him and demands “you. We’re friends, right?”

“Um,” Bucky says, because that’s the big question isn’t it? Bucky would certainly like to think so, at least, he’d even like to think maybe he’ll work up the balls to try for more than that sometimes soon. Especially if the rest of the team keeps mocking him about his ‘totally obvious’ feelings. Still, he’s not sure what answer Tony is actually looking for here, so he finally settles on a hesitant “yes?”

“Right,” Tony says, nodding and turning back to the million screens opened up before him, spanning nearly the entire workspace and displaying what looks like various clips of security feeds from the lab. “Right, of course we’re friends, you spend so much time down here. We’re totally friends. That makes sense. I’ve hardly seen anyone else on these feeds, and look, look I’m even laughing in this one.”

Tony pauses to point to one of the screens and Bucky remembers that day. He doesn’t remember exactly what stupid pun he’d made, but he remembers the way Tony had laughed, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back.

“Tony,” Bucky says slowly, and he’s starting to get a bad feeling about this, but before he can say anything else Tony spins back towards him with a victorious grin.

“Tony! That was going to be my question, thank you!”

Bucky’s heart drops into his stomach. His bad feeling gets exponentially worse.

Turns out, the fancy new gizmo Tony had been playing with activated somehow, and apparently wiped his memory. All of it. And instead of telling anyone, Tony has spent the past twelve or so hours alone, watching security footage.

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” Bucky can’t help demanding, heart racing, and he has to get Tony to medical, get him checked over, what if there’s something else-

“Because I had to figure out who I am, first!” Tony insists, breaking into Bucky’s panic spiral, throwing his arms in the air, like somehow Bucky is the one being ridiculous here.

“So you’ve been watchin’ security footage of yourself?”

“A man is most himself when alone,” Tony says obnoxiously and Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes. Then Tony considers the screens again and adds “and when you’re here, I guess, you’re down here like all the time. You didn’t even leave when I snorted a questionably green shake out of my nose, which, gross. Although you did laugh at me, that’s real friendship I guess.”

Bucky ignores the heat trying to rise in his face because right, sure, friendship. “You couldn’ have tried the internet?” Bucky asks instead of addressing the fact that it really is obvious how much time he spends hanging around Tony now that it’s all laid out like this, “or, I dunno, asked JARVIS?”

Tony’s nose wrinkles adorably as he demands “the ceiling voice?! Like hell am I trusting that, next thing I know it’s going to be refusing to open the pod bay doors!”

“Oh my god, you’re so paranoid,” Bucky groans, slumping onto one of the stools and resisting the urge to drop his forehead to the table.

“See, you do know me!” Tony says brightly, smile lighting up his face, and despite everything Bucky’s heart gives a little flutter. “So far, I’ve been able to determine that all I do is drink coffee and say bad words.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Bucky mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Tony laughs again.

“Also, am I building a robot army? What up with that?” Tony asks, turning back to his many screens with a thoughtful look.

“You are a robot army,” Bucky says, and he’s about to actually explain the suits of armor lining the walls when something on the screens catches his eye instead.

He remembers that day, too. Tony in a tank top, working on one of the armors, grease smeared across his bare arms. Bucky feels his face heating up, because he remembers what happens next, too. On screen, Bucky wants into the lab, catches sight of Tony, and promptly trips over DUM-E and goes sprawling to the ground. Not his proudest moment, but not the worst he’s ever embarrassed himself in front of Tony with the man, somehow, miraculously not noticing.

Bucky glances over at Tony, to see if maybe he’d managed to miss Bucky’s face plant this time too, only to find Tony already watching him with a considering look. Bucky opens his mouth with absolutely no idea what he plans to say, but Tony beats him to it anyways.

“Did you know,” Tony starts slowly, and apparently he doesn’t need his memory to get the same look on his face when he’s putting the pieces together, “that when you moved the couch to get the ball one of the weird robots lost, I straight up fell off my chair and nearly stabbed myself with a screwdriver on the way down?”

“Uh,” Bucky says, because he had not known that, and the knowing look that’s slowly growing on Tony’s face is making him nervous. For multiple reasons. And a part of him can’t stop wondering how many other stupid things Tony has seen him doing in these feeds, how many stupid things Bucky has missed Tony doing over him.

“So, new question,” Tony says, sidling towards him with an amazing amount of confidence for someone with no memories. “Are we, by any chance, right on the delicate edge of more than friends?”

“Uh- you,” Bucky stutters out and he can’t back away fast enough, his hip bouncing painfully off the corner of a table because he can’t drag his eyes away from the way Tony’s tongue swipes out to wet his lips. Finally Bucky gets his brain back online enough to insist “we’re not having this conversation when you don’t remember anythin’!”

Tony pouts but at least stops advancing on him, and it’s incredibly difficult for Bucky to drag his attention away from the swell of Tony’s lower lip. “Fine. And I suppose you’re going to make me go talk to doctors now,” Tony says with a roll of his eyes, and Bucky’s not sure if it’s a good or bad sign that Tony’s dislike of going to medical isn’t reliant on his memories either.

“For starters,” Bucky grumbles. That’s right, he just has to deal with this one thing at a time, first they make sure Tony is okay, then they figure out what’s going on with his memory, and then-

“And then we can make out?” Tony asks hopefully and Bucky almost trips over exactly nothing.

“Would you please just- grab the thing and we can go talk to someone?” Bucky demands and Tony’s little smirk is really not helping anything.

“Fine, fine,” Tony says, smirking wider as he turns to grab the small device still sitting on one of the tables.

There’s a bright flash of light.

Bucky wakes up on his back, blinking at the ceiling in confusion.

“Are you kidding?! It was that easy?!” Tony’s voice demands from somewhere on the other side of the lab, “I hate magic. So much.”

“I know,” Bucky says with a groan as he pushes himself upright again, and then pauses, “wait, you remember that?”

“I also remember taking my midterms in a hula outfit, which I haven’t remembered since the 90’s, so that’s fun,” Tony says and his head pop up over one of the tables, looking a little dazed, a little confused, but no worse for wear. “Apparently, when I get my memories back I get all of them back. Including the things I’d rather not.”

Tony continues complaining as they pick themselves back up, dust themselves off, and Bucky is just trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to say now. Does he act like they didn’t just have an accidental revelation? Chalk it all up to the effects of the magic mind wiper and never speak of it again?

As usual, Tony beats him to the punch. His eyes flick up to the screens again, and a hopeful smile spreads across his face. “So, did we have to go upstairs right now, or..?” He trails off, wiggles his eyebrows, and almost manages to hide the nerves in his voice.

“Or,” Bucky says, surprising himself with how firm his voice comes out considering he had no idea he was going to say it. He’s not taking it back through, not missing this chance because knowing himself, Bucky could spend the rest of his life finding excuses to wait.

“Yay, we’re gonna make out,” Tony says, giddy and goofy and oh, Bucky’s heart is swelling almost painfully in his chest as Tony picks right back up on advancing on him.

“Just a little,” Bucky says, already reaching out to pull him in, “then it’s straight to medical for you.”

“Boo,” Tony tries to complain, but Bucky just kisses him quiet.

#winterironmonth #winteriron #starkbucks #buckytony #comic book science #just go with it #my fic #winterironmonth2020

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icarusaturn · 5 years ago

Text

Learn about me!

1. Your name?

Maria Lawson

2. Nationality?

American

3. Age?

4. Birthday?

November 12, 2003

5. Zodiac sign?

Scorpio

6. Gender?

Female

7. Sexuality?

Bisexual

8. Your looks ( add a picture or describe them)

9. What do you/did you study?

I’m still in high school, but I’d like to study something either about language, music, or helping people/animals

10. What’s your current job like/what do you have?

I work during the summer at a Dairy Queen, a lot of my friends work there so it’s usually pretty fun

11. Your birth order?

Second, third if you count my sister

12. How many siblings do you have?

2, one brother and over half sister

13. Do you have good relations with your family?

Mostly yes

14. How many friends do you have?

Many but only around 5 close friends

15. Your relationship status?

Single

16. What do you look for in an SO?

Honest, kind, loves animals and kids, up to adventure, loves music, loves nerdy things, open to trying new things, good sense of humor, respects boundaries & privacy, not pushy

17. Do you have a crush?

18. When did you have your first kiss?

8th grade

19. Do you prefer a serious/meaningful relationship or casual dating/one night stands?

I won’t mind either a serious relationship or casual dating

20. What are your deal breakers?

No common sense, being an asshole, pushy, no respect, derogatory towards others, no self respect, being overwhelming and or annoying, hates animals/is rude to animals, can’t be independent, lazy

21. How was your day?

Good!

22. Favorite food and drink?

My favorite food is probably chicken or bacon cheeseburgers for meat, otherwise I love any sort of fruit. My favorite drink besides water (lol) is lemonade

23. What position do you sleep in?

Usually I sleep on my stomach or my side

24. What was your last dream about?

One of my friends’ sister was working at a Barnes and Nobel

25. Your fears?

Being betrayed, being lied to, everyone secretly hating me, being left alone, being forgotten

26. Your dream?

I want to be successful and happy with a good place to live and good friends

27. Your goals?

The same as my dream

28. Any pets?

Yeah, one cat named Sabrina

29. What are your hobbies?

Art, theater, band, choir, speech

30. Any cool places in your area?

I live in a small town, so there’s many unique things about it

31. What was your last awkward situation?

I was in the car at the local grocery store and someone I didn’t like parked next to me

32. What is your last regret?

My last relationship

33. Language(s) you can speak?

Only English, although I’m trying to learn sign language

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc. )

It’s very interesting so yes, I’d also like to learn more about it

35. Have any quirks?

I have synesthesia, the type where I can hear colors

36. Your pet peeves

Lazy people, people touching my stuff without permission, when someone keeps trying to talk to me while I’m listening to music, annoying loud people, obnoxious rude people, people who blurt things while someone else is trying to speak, people who think they’re better than everyone else, liars

37. Ideal vacation

Anywhere where whoever I’m with and I can do what we please whenever we please

38. Any scars?

A few from childhood and some more recent ones from self harm. I’m in a safer space and state of mind now, so there’s no need to worry

39. What does your last text message say?

I just signed up, did it work?

40. Last 5 things from your search history?

Marvel characters

Color block hoodie teddy fresh

Griz and Norm frozen

Everything I wanted lyrics

Kirishima shirt

41. What’s your device background?

42. What do you daydream about?

Movie/show scenes, memories, possible future outcomes, music

43. Describe your dream home

A house in the city with a bay window, an atrium, a claw foot bathtub, and a modern vintage look/feel, clean with nerdy decor

44. What’s your religion/thoughts on religion

I don’t have a religion because I don’t know much about it, but either way I don’t want to attend any holy services, because I’d like to prioritize other things. I do believe that everyone has their own rights to what they believe in, to me it’s like saying people should be able to eat, it’s common sense

45. You Personality type?

Campaigner personality ENFP - T

You can read about it on 16 personalities

46. Most dangerous thing you’ve done

When I was around 12 I flew with my brother alone on a plane

47. Are you happy with your current life?

For the most part yes

48. Some things you’ve tried in your life?

I’ve tried competitive dance, baking, hiking, and woodworking to name a few

49. What does your wardrobe consist of?

The usual stuff, t shirts, hoodies, jackets, sweaters, casual & fancy clothes, dresses, lots of shoes, jeans and leggings

50. Favorite color to wear

Yellow or blue

51. How would you describe your style?

Trendy nerd

52. Are you happy with your current looks?

Yeah mostly

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be?

I want freckles lol

54. Any tattoos or piercings?

I have 4 lobe piercings, 2 on each side, and my left ear helix so 5 in total. I’m planning on getting many small tattoos and my septum pierced. Nothing drastic, all simple and small

55. Do you get complimented often?

Yes, almost every day with my hair and a lot with outfits

56. Favorite aesthetics?

Nature, vintage, character inspired

57. A popular trend that you dislike

There were these weird wavy eyebrows, not a fan 😂

58. Songs you’re currently obsessed with?

All of the Frozen 2 soundtrack, For The First Time in Forever and Let It Go from Frozen, Are You Bored Yet by Wallows, Amerika by Young the Giant, Maniac by Conan Gray, Come Around by Papa Roach, Same Damn Life by Seether, and Soarin by Bazzi

59. Song you wouldn’t normally admit you like?

I like mostly everything, so I would admit to liking mostly any song someone brings up

60. Favorite genre?

Pop or show tunes/ movie tunes

61. Favorite song/band/ genre?

My favorite song right now is a tie between Show Yourself and Into The Unknown from Frozen 2 or Are You Bored Yet by Wallows

62. Hated popular songs/artists?

6ix9ine, lil pump, artists like them

63. Put your music on shuffle & list first 5 songs

Prom Queen by Molly Kate Kestner

I’m Born to Run by American Authors

Holding on to You by Twenty One Pilots

Trip Switch by Nothing but Thieves

Swimming Pool Summer by Capital Cities

64. Can you sing/play any instruments?

I sing Soprano 1 and play Flute

65. Do you like karaoke?

Yeah!

66. Own any albums?

No vinyls or cassettes or DVD’s, it’s all on my Spotify lol

67. Do you listen to the radio? What stations?

I only listen to Spotify

68. Favorite movie/series?

My favorite movies are Frozen, Frozen 2, The Lion King, or any marvel movie past iron man lol

My favorite series are My Hero Academia, Voltron and friends

69. Favorite genre movies/ books/ etc.

Action, comedy, and fantasy

70. Your fictional crushes?

None lol

71. Which fictional character is you?

A mix of Elsa and Anna and Bakugou and Kirishima

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps if so

I don’t ship many things but I love Tododeku and Kiribaku

73. Favorite Greek god?

Apollo, Athena is my favorite goddess

74. A legend from where you live that you like?

There’s no legends where I live, but I like state legends like the legend of Paul Bunyan

75. Do you like art? What’s your favorite work or artist?

I like more modern artists, like ones on tumblr lol. These are a few artists I really like

@elentori-art @tecochet @cherriielle

76. Can you share your other social media?

I have Instagram, Twitter and the like but my Pinterest is maria_1820

77. Favorite youtubers

Colleen Ballinger, Joey Graceffa, Trainer Tips, David Dobrik, Molly Burke, Shane Dawson

78. Favorite platform

Everything but Facebook lol

79. How much time do you spend in the internet?

All of the time 😂

80. What video games have you played? Which ones your favorite?

I’ve played the sims and Mario kart and I like the sims more lol

81. Your favorite books?

We are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson and the My Hero Academia series

82. Do you play board/card games?

Not really

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema?

Nope

84. Favorite holiday?

Christmas

85. Are you into dramas?

Medical/police/firefighter dramas lol

86. Would you use death note if you had one?

I’d like to say no but I probably would

87. What changes would you make in the world no matter how impossible, if you had the power to?

I would have everyone have a good house and money

88. (There wasn’t a question here so I made one up)What was your first word?

Besides mama, my first word was eat

89. If you turned into a paranormal being, what would it be?

A Phoenix

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death?

I’d want my body donated to science

91. If you had to change your name what would you pick?

I like my name so I wouldn’t change it

92. Who would you switch lives with for a week?

Maybe a guy to see what it’s like

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo

🪐

94. Write 3 things about yourself + only one of them must be true

I love acrylic nails

I’ve never been on a train

I met Dan and Phil

95. Cold or hot?

Cold because I could put on a sweater

96. Be a hero or be a villain?

Hero

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme?

Sing everything because I sometimes find rhyming annoying

98. Shape shifting or controlling time?

Shape shifting

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death?

Immune to everything but natural death

100. Book or movie?

Both

#ask away #send me asks #ask me things #get to know me

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myartwritingcraft · 7 years ago

Text

Bureaus and Brokers – Chapter One: The one set in a bar

I mentioned about three weeks ago that I liked the Dotl RealWorldAU enough that I want need have to write some fanfiction for it...

I had a bit off a hickup how to write the fight, which lead to this stagnating for a while, but I think after this followups will be much easier, so if anyone would like to read more of this, please let me know!

(Also if you like my ideas you might want to check out my side-blog @prompts-and-micro-stories )

(Oh and before I forget it: Dotl is a great webcomic by @bludragongal and you should probably read it before reading this.)

Bureaus and Brokers – Chapter One: The one set in a bar

"Oh hell, ████ no! This was not only a complete waste of time, but so nerve-grating, that I probably lost a whole ███████ year of my lifetime. I'd rather tear my own eyes out than do this again!" were the words Lyra would have loved to say, but instead she responded weakly: "Yeah, it was a nice evening, we should repeat it sometime." She forced the corners of her mouth upwards and hoped that her colleagues wouldn't take enough notice to realize that the smile was 150% fake.

They didn't. "Why stop now? There is a very nice bar around the corner, that serves a badass martini!", Frank replied, genuinely excited.

"Oh, sorry, I don't drink", Lyra declined defensively: "For medical reasons. I have an appointment to donate blood tomorrow." In her mind she complimented herself for this excellent alibi.

"Oh bugger!", Frank replied, but the small group left to continue their little tour.

Lyra watched them a while, and started audibly grumbling when they were away enough not to hear it. “████, of course they want to hang out at my favorite bar. Of course, when I need a drink the most…”

She took her smartphone out of her bag and started searching for another fitting establishment. It sucked that there were only a few semi decent drinking locations around in the city and now she would have to make a huge detour to the next one, instead of just making a short trip to her usual place and then walking to her flat a few houses further.

A few swipes later she called a cab and was her way to the next location. Her mood sank further, because of the obnoxious tune that sounded off from the car’s radio. And the smell in there reminded her of the wrong end of heavy drinking nights.

Finally they arrived at the bar and she quickly paid off the cab driver with a few currency units and determinedly strode forwards to the entrance.

It has been a very slow night so far for Brent. Today there were almost no patrons at the bar, so he had taken up a seat inside next to the entrance instead of standing outside. There was no point in staying in the cold if he was the only one to do it. Without prior notice a woman entered and strategically strode towards the bar.

“Hey!”, Brent called after her: “You can’t just enter!”

The woman ignored him and simply placed an order with the barkeep.

Brent sighed and stood up and walked over. He tried to sent of an imposing and respectable aura, but in the end he felt mostly annoyed.

“Excuse me, miss”, he started, but she only took a quick glance at him and waved dismissively: “It’s alright, you may leave now.”

“Wait, what?” Brent was startled.

“Go away”, she added and grabbed for the glass that the barkeep put in front of her.

“Not so fast!”, Brent interjected and demonstratively snatched her beverage away.

“Hey!”, she interjected: “That’s mine! Get your own drink, ███████!”

“I don’t drink while I work”, Brent stated: “And you won’t drink until I’ve taken a look at your ID.”

She stared at him and rolled with her eyes: “Do I look like I’m not of drinking age yet?”

He snorted: “You might look like an octogenarian and I still would check your ID.”

She starred at him for three solid seconds, during which he did his best to not flinch, and suddenly broke out into laughter: “That’s priceless! What are you, the bouncer?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I am!”

“Okay, kiddo, here!” She took her ID out and flipped it over to him, still chuckling.

Brent checked it thoroughly and gave it back. “Okay, looks like you’re fine. Have fun drinking, but don’t overdo it!” He added the last part because he felt kinda awkward.

“No worries”, she said and emptied her glass in one swift swoop: “I’m a responsible drunk.”

“Whatever”, Brent replied and returned to his station at the entrance.

While she ordered another few drinks Lyra realized that she didn’t feel that shitty anymore which was really strange, because normally she needed at least four more glasses to reach that point. Perhaps it was the simple fact that this guy had not oogled her like most – who was she kidding, all guys around did. That was a kinda refreshing, although she was sure that he’d manage in a heartbeat to destroy what little positive opinion she had of him. Most ALL people managed.

Kinda depressed again she continued to raise her spirits by trying to drown her sorrows in them.

As someone used to drinking she quickly reached that special happy state of mind, where things didn’t bother her anymore and she just felt intensely bored. So she looked around and watched the other patrons.

There were a couple of sleazy businessmen that tried to get drunk on some quality whiskey (she would have recognized that bottle even blindfolded). Then there were a few more construction-workerish looking guys, that hurdled around a tablet computer, where one of them seemed to stream one of these sports games. The faint sound let her guess that it was probably soccer or football or whatever. She had absolutely no idea, because regular sports were all the same anyway; they lacked the finesse of real martial arts. Seriously, it was right there: martial arts. That was a form of physical exercise she could get into.

A third group consisted of a few dolled up gals, who obviously enjoyed their time together, happily chatting and laughing a lot.

Lyra let her gaze linger longer on them, she always tried to use opportunities for getting some inspirations how to put her own outfits together. That was the only reason, no doubt whatsoever.

The nice view degraded, as a few more guys entered the bar and the biggest douche of them started to harass them in the most stupid way imaginable:

“Hello ladies, how are we doing tonight?”

“None of your business!”, one gal with snazzy blond hair replied, inducing laughter in the others.

“Hey, no offense. I just tried to be nice here.”

“Maybe, but we are having our little ladies night here, so could you just let us be?”, a black-haired one asked.

The guy started grinning pleased like Punch: “But don’t you know that one man is needed to make a ladies night really pleasurable?” When he started to actually touch one of them, Lyra knew that this had gone more then far enough.

A quick glance in the entrance’s direction – of course empty, because why should the bouncer be bouncing, when there is an actual need for the bouncer to bounce – and Lyra headed off to the damsels in distress. “Hey, they said they want to be left alone!”, she hissed angrily at them.

“████ off, █████!”, on of the other guys replied, but the leader just scratched his chin: “You’re not looking bad, not at all. Perhaps you could join us? Well make sure that it will be an unforgettable night!”

“Cut that ████████, the ladies asked that you leave them alone, so you will respect that wish and back off.”

“And if I don’t do that?” He stroked contemplatively his chin.

“Then you will regret it.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Maybe...” Lyra demonstratively let her knuckles crack.

The guy waved aside: “Oh come on, really? As if I could take an office █████ like you serious. Did you ever look at yourself in a mirror? Would someone like you risk to break of one of her pretty manicured nails? Or worse, what if some of your makeup smudges?”

Lyra didn’t even bat an eye: “That’s all you got? All hat and no cattle?”

“Still more then you’ll ever have. Be a nice woman and sit down again. Perhaps you could then actually start to enjoy some attention.” He grabbed Lyras breast.

It took only a moment, but Lyra grabbed his arm and throw him with a special move down onto the ground. Then she put one of her feet on his chest and asked: “Finally willing to listen now, ███████?”

Brent was carefully balancing the three heavy crates with assorted liquors and tried to find a walking speed that was fast and stable enough at the same time. Running errands annoyed him; he had to make sure that there was nothing fishy going on, but explain that to the barkeep.

He was always back at the door and briefly put down the crates to open it, strategically placing one of his feet to keep it open. He bend down to carefully pick up the crates without loosing foot-grip on the door.

In the moment, the crates were firmly in position, a man suddenly flew through the door, landing on the concrete sidewalk. Brent glanced inside the bar, were he saw the office lady from before, breathing heavily, a look of furious anger on her face mixed with a hint of surprise, and a big stain on her outfit. Its color suggested it was an appletini.

She bristled with anger, went directly after him and said: “I hope this was a lecture how it ends if you can’t behave like a decent ███████ human being!”

The woman made a glance sideways: “Have a problem?”

Brent who just had watched, unable to do something without putting his precious cargo down first, just shake his head: “Nope. I’m sure you had a perfectly valid reason to throw all the way through the bar onto the street.”

“████ right!”, she responded, reminding him for a little moment of a cockatoo puffing its feathers.

In the distance the sirens of a police car could be heard approaching, quickly coming nearer. The matching car arrived half a minute later, and the officers quickly assessed the situation.

“That was about time!”, Lyra declared satisfied, when they cuffed up the sleazebag, but she was caught by surprise, when they continued with her. “Hey, what is that supposed to mean?!”

“You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be used against you. Etc. pp.”

She was not so dumb to resist the police, but she was clearly not happy either.

Brent watched as the car left the scene with both of them, and shock his head: “That could have definitely gone better.”

~~~

Ford glanced over his partition screen and smiled, mildly mischievous. "I think this is the perfect opportunity to switch the game to the other group, don't you think so?"

"Oh come on, I was having a run here, you can't seriously leave my character hanging in limbo like this!", Lyra said and crossed her arms.

"Hey, I'm the gamemaster, remember rule number zero."

"Pff, fine, whatever..."She grabbed her glass and downed its content, although it was just plain, ordinary water.

Thistle looked up from the book that she had read and panickly started to shuffle around the myriad of sourcebooks surrounding her: "But I'm not ready with my character yet!"

"Don't worry", Ford replied: "As long as you have the basics down, we can start. We won't get into the finer mechanics of the game until later. Also I think it would be nicer to begin the scene with Mr. Orrig."

He nodded in the direction of the orc, who put down his character sheet. "Ve can start venever you vant."

#dotl #dotl fanfic #dotl real world au #bureaus and brokers

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purple-possibilities · 8 years ago

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Character meme! Maito Gai! Casue I mean... look at my icon. This should be no surprise.

You have chosen the very greatest picture of Gai as your icon. I am honoured to write this tribute to a lovely man.

First impression

Wuh… turtle… a man… on a turtle… a man on a turtle… in a green… a green… one piece… jumpsuit? with… orange… yellow… orange… puce… sienna… goldenrod—fuck it idk what colour that is it’s orange now—leg… legwarmers? are..eyebrows? what? but the other one? matching? what? i don’t… who thought this was a good idea? Why… is that a sunset? Why is he talking like this? Is this funny? Is this dumb? a turtle? How is the turtle talking, and is it a tortoise or a turtle… idon’tlikehim—nowait—he’s the greatest

Impression now

Gai is amazing. Hilarious. I have mad respect for him. He may have started off as a joke character but he is actually amazing, as a person, as a teacher, as a character, and I love him.

Favorite moment

After the Chuunin Prelims, the scene where Gai is talking to Lee about the probability of Lee surviving the procedure, and promises that if Lee dies, then Gai will die too. It’s the first moment you see Gai being serious, and you learn the true measure of his devotion. Gai might be loud and obnoxious and sunset genjutsus, but he’s also love and warmth and he would do anything for someone he cared about. This was the first time we saw Gai—and Lee—as people and not gags. And it was touching and sad and it really made me care about both of them.

Idea for a story

Fuck if I know. Let met think…I hate to do this, but since Ume is known as the Queen of Angst I’m going to say I was inspired. When Kakashi is in the midst of his ANBU depression and Gai petitions to be able to join, instead of saying ‘no,’ Sandaime says ‘yes.’ Now we’ve got ANBU Gai, being forced into completing these brutal missions or being charged with insubordination of the highest degree (the punishment of which, is death). Not wanting to see Gai punished, Kakashi does the dirty work while Gai basically panics. Seeing how much further into his shell this is pushing Kakashi, Gai bites the bullet and starts pulling his own weight. The two spiral deeper into ANBU and the darkness that follows them, desperately grasping onto each other. Gai finally begs Kakashi to leave one day, but Kakashi cannot, even seeing how affected Gai is. So Gai sticks by his side, slowly killing off all the brightest parts of himself. Until one day, Gai see’s a young boy with thick eyebrows trying his damnedest to be a ninja without chakra, and begs Sandaime to let him be the boy’s sensei. Hiruzen finally smartens up, and ejects both Gai and Kakashi from ANBU. They get their students, and they learn how to heal with their new purpose (Gai is better off at first, but he drags Kakashi behind him). And then everything eventually works out because I was making myself sad. As a payoff to having Gai in ANBU, let’s pretend that Kakashi and Gai were such a great team, they ended up finding Obito, they caught him, brought him to the village for rehabilitation. No Uchiha Massacre, Madara is dead already and now has no one to bring him back to life, Zetsu walked into a patch of experimental weed killer and died (yes, all the Zetsu, it was a huge patch and they just kept walking into it for no reason. maybe there were some parasitic ants that took over their brains or something convenient like that), and everyone lives, everyone’s happy, hugs and kisses for everyone. Boom. Horrible ending.

Unpopular opinion

I honestly think Gai would be the greatest boyfriend. As in: The. Greatest. Ever. He would win awards for being an amazing boyfriend, and an amazing husband, and an amazing father. Why? Because he would give you his everything. And not in a ‘Oh, I want to take advantage of the man,’ kind of way, but in the sense that, once Gai has decided you’re the one for him (even if you’re just the one for him right now) he is going to put soooo much effort into making sure you’d be happy. He’d be bringing you little gifts every day, just because they reminded him of you. They would probably all be different, things that he saw while doing his crazy training throughout the village, but they would all have some sort of deep personal meaning and you would probably love them. Ok, there might be some trial and error in the beginning, but the man learns fast and never gives up. If you didn’t like receiving physical gifts, he would gift you every day with something non-physical. Maybe you like horrible poetry? Gai will write you daily poems. Maybe you like massages? Gai will give you daily back massages, foot massages, wrist massages, full body massages (and i do mean full body massages) etc. Maybe you just want someone to sit quietly with and cuddle for like an hour—Gai will stfu and cuddle with you. Sure, he’ll be bursting with thoughts after, and he might get a little fidgety, but he will 100% do it, if it makes you happy. So you better fucking treat him good or I’ll cut you. Okay, Kakashi will cut you but still. Don’t do that to Gai. If you’re an introvert and you feel sometimes that his personality gets to be a little much, he will try to tone it down or give you space, but he’ll be back to 11 in a heartbeat if you change your mind. He would remember every single important date. If you wanted to go somewhere or do something, Gai would make it happen. Whether that’s going skydiving off the mountains in Lightening, or looking for a mythical fish off the coast of Water, or going to the Land of Hotsprings for some R&R, or just going to the corner store to pick up your favourite take-out and that movie you were talking about. Did you run out of sugar while baking? Gai will bring you sooo much sugar in like two seconds flat. Is he out of the village? Doesn’t matter. His summons are at your service (even if they’re a bit slower). He would back you up no matter what (and even if you broke up, Gai would still have your back. Gai is Ride or Die ok, he will be there for you as long as you’re not horrible and cheat on him or something. Don’t be mean to Gai; he’s precious). If you’re having problems in your relationship, Gai will do his best to work them out with you. Gai will go to therapy and work his ass off to make both of you happy. Gai obviously has his quirks and his own issues, and wheelchair bound Gai will probably take some time to bounce back into his normal vigour. But honestly, out of his generation, he’d probably be the best boyfriend. People don’t want to date Gai because LOUD and EYEBROWS and THAT HORRIBLE OUTFIT but a) he can be quiet if you need him to be, b) the eyebrows aren’t that bad get over it, and c) you bet your ass Gai looks amazing naked in civvies. Don’t ask Gai to change for you (honestly, if you caught his attention, then I probably don’t have to tell you that) because that’s just mean. But Gai will treat you right. Date Gai. You won’t find a better boyfriend. And if you’re lucky and he proposes, marry Gai. You might want to elope, though. He will go a little overboard with the ceremony otherwise. But hey, you’re dating Gai, you probably like overboard. So go for the ceremony. It will be the greatest wedding anyone has every attended.

Favorite relationship

If you’ve been on my blog for more than five minutes you know I love Kakashi. But that is not my favourite relationship of Gai’s. I love Gai’s relationship with his students, but specifically with Tenten. Now I know what you’re thinking; sibi, why choose Tenten when there is Lee, Gai’s protege. Well, it’s simple. It’s easy to get along with someone who is like you. Lee has always been a mini-Gai, and so it was not hard for them to bond. Both have a relationship based on common interests and common goals, and it is a beautiful relationship. Gai and Neji’s relationship falls in a similar vein; hard working student, eager to improve himself through hard work. The problem here is that Gai isn’t much of a mentor—not by any fault of his own, but by virtue of Neji focusing on the Gentle Fist Style. There were certainly exercises to build endurance and stamina and team bonds that Gai taught Neji, but Neji had a path already, and it was easy to guide him on it. I love Gai’s relationship with Tenten because he had none of that. All Gai had in common with Tenten was that they both work hard. She had no real direction, she had no clan to teach her a specific style or put her on a path she could follow. He could not identify with her as a girl, he didn’t really know how to treat her (because while Gai is a ball of sunshine he is awkward in his own way) but despite this, he didn’t give up. He wanted to help her fulfil her goals. Tenten’s dream was to be like Tsunade? Gai was going to make that happen. He tried to set her up with a medical ninja, since that’s what Tsunade was most famous for. uh oh, Tenten didn’t have the chakra control. Gai was not deterred. Tsunade was known for her super strength…but that also required chakra control that Tenten didn’t have. Gai was not deterred. He tried to give her his summoning contract, but Tenten ended up insulting the tortoise and ruining that chance, as well as a chance for any animal summon (as the tortoises would surely gossip about the disrespect). Gai was not deterred. He taught her how to summon weapons. He just kept trying. Gai tried his best to equip Tenten with the skills she would need to fulfil her dream. She did not end up proficient in the same way that Tsunade was. But she found her own star. She found something she loved, developed a fighting style all on her own, and became the greatest at what she did. And Gai, who didn’t have the talents to teach her to be like Tsunade, didn’t go ‘oh well, I can’t help her,’ he said, ‘if this doesn’t work, then we’ll try that, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll try…’ until Tenten found herself. He was an amazing mentor to all of his students, but this is most evident, in my opinion, with Tenten.

Favorite headcanon

I don’t remember where it started, but I like the idea that Gai is actually a genjutsu type, and whenever you see the sunset behind him, it’s actually him casting a low level genjutsu for theatrics.

Here is the ask. Send me a character (canon or oc) or even a pairing. Up next is Genma, and then Hidan, Adult!Obito, Rock Lee, and Ino. (which I think I’m going to have to do later, it’s time for me to sleep).

Already completed: Madara, Kakashi, Shino, Tenzou

#kunoichi-ume #answered asks #character ask #maito gai #ask meme #sibi talks about naruto

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abbygkane · 8 years ago

Text

Please tell me we didn’t have sex last night (1/4)

Summary: Waking up with the worst hangover ever Abby, a second-year medical student, has absolutely no recollection of getting home from last night’s party. So imagine her surprise when she wakes up naked in her bed with nobody other than Marcus, third-year law student and general pain in her ass, Kane. Just what the hell happened last night??!

Inspired by the following prompt: How about Kabby at university and they end up together in bed after a party? Bonus if they aren’t really friends but have a lot of unresolved sexual tension :D

Abby wakes up to a pounding head and her mouth feeling as dry as a desert. Groaning, she tries to open her eyes, but the light that’s pouring into the room quickly makes her clench them shut again.

I’m never drinking again

Not only is she experiencing what has the potential to grow into a massive hangover, her pillow also seems to be breathing? Realising that she’s not alone in her bed and that yes, she is naked and so is the body she’s lying on top of, Abby feels a panic attack coming up. Her body tenses as she tries to wrack her brain on how the hell she not only ended up naked with another person in her bed but most importantly with whom.

The last thing she remembers from last night’s party is playing several games of beer pong with Callie before ending up on a couch drinking, she thinks whisky, with, oh no, Marcus stuck-up Kane. Abby’s almost scared to lift her head, but she rationalises, even in her drunken state she wouldn’t have sunk so low as to sleep with Kane. Right?!

Before she can force herself to look up, the body beneath her tenses up before letting out a painful groan. Abby’s lets out a startled gasp when the guy’s hands shift on her body and come to rest on her waist.

“Ugh, my head”, the guy murmurs, his voice coming out rough and still sleep-filled.

Fuck.

Abby most definitely knows that voice. That voice had been getting on her nerves ever since she first heard it almost two years ago.

Guess she did sink that low

Marcus slightly moves beneath her before pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

What the hell?

“Abby, you awake?”, he whispers and his voice sounds soft and affectionate? In all of their previous encounters, she can’t recall a single instance where he sounded even remotely pleasant. Rude, obnoxious and arrogant, sure. But affectionate? Never!

Just what the hell happened last night?

“I am”, she rasps out.

“Does your head also feels like you bashed it against a wall? Repeatedly?”, Marcus asks as he gently trails his fingers across her back, causing a shiver to travel through her body.

“Uhm, yes”, Abby replies, her voice filled with bewilderment, because she has no idea how to handle a Marcus Kane who’s nice to her and tenderly caresses her skin. Especially not while being extremely hungover.

She needs to get out of this bed, and she needs to do so fast.

“Uhm”, she murmurs while sitting up way too quickly because her vision blackens for a second and Abby can swear she can feel the earth move beneath her.

Marcus sits up as well, gazing at her with a concerned look on his face.

“Abby, are you a-”

She cuts him off with a wave of her hand, “M’fine. I think I’m going to be sick. I’m gonna –”, she babbles as she picks up the first piece of clothing she finds next to the bed, which just happens to be Marcus’ T-shirt.

Without finishing her sentence Abby quickly slips the shirt over her head before stumbling out of bed and towards the bathroom, ignoring his worried cry of her name.

Closing the bathroom door behind her, she promptly drops onto her knees in front of the toilet, while taking deep breaths to ease her nausea. After a couple of seconds though a particularly intense wave of nausea crashes over her and Abby’s barely hunched over the toilet bowl when she starts to vomit.

While vomiting, Abby’s faintly aware of the door opening and Marcus entering. He immediately drops down next to her before pulling her hair from her face with one hand while the other one is rubbing comfortable circles on her lower back.

If she didn’t feel so goddamn awful while being in the middle of puking what felt like all of her internal organs, even though she knew as a medical student that wasn’t possible, the fact that Marcus Kane of all people was sitting next to her on the floor, holding back her hair while making comforting mumbling noises, would have been absolutely hilarious. But as her stomach heaved, Abby realises that she couldn’t care less about who was sitting next to be at the moment.

Just how much did she drink last night?

*last night*

“Abby come on. We’re going to be late”, Callie calls out while repeatedly banging on the bathroom door.

Rolling her eyes at her best friend’s whiny voice, Abby pulls her hair into a ponytail and sprays on some perfume before opening the door and nearly crashing into Callie.

“You’re going out wearing that?”, she exclaims incredulously.

Frowning Abby glances down at her outfit, which are her favourite red converses, a pair of black skinny jeans and a grey blouse.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Callie bites her lower lip, “Nothing if we were going for a cup of coffee, but this is a frat party Abs. With, you know, lots of cute guys”

“Callie the only reason I’m coming along is because you’ve been practically begging me for weeks now. Not to impress some idiotic frat boy. So either I go wearing this or I’m not going at all”, she states with her arms crossed.

Her best friend raises her hands in surrender, “Alright. But let me at least fix your hair”

“Callie”

“Please ”

“Fine. Do your worst”

They’ve only been at the party for no longer than half an hour and Abby already had to remove some drunk idiot’s hands from her ass and had scarcely managed to avoid getting beer spilt on her blouse, twice.

Callie had wandered off a couple of minutes ago minutes after spotting some girls from her year. Slowly sipping from her water, Abby lets out a sigh while glancing at her watch. She’d give everything to be back at her place. All she wants to do is put on her pj’s, crawl into bed and watch a movie. But she did promise Callie and for her best friend’s sake, she’ll try to at least pretend to be enjoying herself.

“You look like you’re having the best time of your life”, a familiar voice drawls to her right.

Turning her head, Abby comes face to face with Thelonius.

“That obvious, huh?”, she smirks

“Just a little bit”, he replies, “Let me guess, Callie forced you to come?”

“Of course she did”

“You want to join me? I’m here with some friends”, Thelonius proposes.

She’s just about to agree when suddenly there’s a giggling and probably already slightly tipsy Callie hanging onto her.

“Hi, Thelonius”, she exclaims.

“Callie”, he replies, an amused smile playing on his lips.

Slipping her arm around her friend’s waist, Abby gives her an exasperated look before returning her attention back on Thelonius.

“I might come and find you later, but for now I think it’s best if I don’t leave this one’s – nodding her head at Callie – side”, she points out, ignoring Callie’s indignant huff and mumbling.

Chuckling, Thelonius raises his bottle of beer in a salute before leaving both of them.

“You know I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself”, Callie mutters under her breath.

“Of course you are”, Abby retorts while patting her hair, only to laugh when her friend gently pinches her waist in response.

“I’m just kidding CC”, she swears, “Now let’s find some tequila because I feel that I’ll need it if I want to survive this party without punching some guy”

Her reply is met with an enthusiastic and sloppy peck on the cheek before Callie drags her through the crowd, “I knew there was a reason why I loved you”, she shouts over her shoulder while tugging on her hand.

To be completely honest, Abby has lost track of the number of tequila shots she had downed. All she knows is that her fingers are sticky from the lime and salt and that she’s currently kicking ass at beer pong.

Nailing another throw and winning the game, she cheerfully puts her fist in the air before drunkenly high-fiving Callie, or better, trying to high-five Callie because they miss each other’s hand, twice. Both girls giggle before wrapping an arm around the other person’s waist and dramatically bowing when the crowd around them starts to cheer.

“I never knew you were this good at beer pong”, Callie laughs, her eyes are alight with amusement and her cheeks are slightly flushed, both from playing the game as from consuming several shots.

“Well, I am a medical student. A steady hand and precise aim are preferable, especially when you’re cutting into someone”, Abby states, inwardly congratulating herself for managing to get the words out with only the bare minimum of slurring.

Callie opens her mouth, probably to give a witty retort, only to close it with an audible snap. Confused at her behaviour, Abby notices the surprised look in her friend’s eyes before a broad and mischievous grin appears on her face. A grin, she knows from experience, means trouble.

“What?”, she asks, albeit hesitantly. She still remembers what happened the last time Callie had that grin on her face. They had scarcely managed to avoid getting arrested.

“Guess who walked into the room and has been unable to keep his eyes off you ever since arriving?”, Callie teases.

“Who?”

“Marcus I’m an ass, but a very attractive one Kane”, her friend exclaims, bursting out in laughter when Abby scrunches up her face in distaste.

“Oh come on Abs. Even you can’t deny that he’s sexy”, she adds with a wink.

Abby huffs while shaking her head, “He isn’t”

“Abs”

“He isn’t”, she vehemently insists, “He’s a smug, arrogant, condescending, haughty jerk and the less I see his face the better.”

“Wow, okay. Calm down. There’s like steam coming out of your ears. I knew you two don’t see eye to eye, but he’s honestly not as bad as you make him out to be Abby”, Callie calmly points out, ignoring her friend’s sarcastic exhale of sure.

“And even if you refuse to admit it, I know for a fact that you think he’s attractive because last time you came home after running into him you kept muttering about how it’s a crime for someone with arms and a butt like that to have such a ghastly personality. Don’t even think of denying it”, she rushes out when Abby opens her mouth to contradict her.

“And from the way he’s been staring at you, I think it’s safe to say that he finds you attractive too, because I doubt he has even blinked since entering the room”, Callie continues before pulling on the sleeve and motioning for her to turn around, “Have a look for yourself”

Abby really doesn’t want to turn around, but she also knows that Callie is just going to keep on pushing until she does. So as she lets out a deep and displeased sigh, she turns around and it takes only a couple of seconds before Abby finds Marcus leaning against the wall and oh.

Letting her gaze travel across his body it becomes clear that he had decided to ditch his usual long-sleeved shirts and to replace it with a grey T-shirt, a very tight grey T-shirt. Like, were law students even allowed to be so toned? The next thing that grabs Abby’s attention is his hair. Usually slicked back, it’s now framing his face in loose curls and her gaze is focused on one particular curl against his forehead.

It’s the ideal length for tangling your hands in her traitorous mind whispers.

Shaking her head at the turn her thoughts were taking, this was, after all, Marcus Kane, Abby moves her gaze lower and lets out a tiny gasp when their eyes lock. He has never in the two years they’ve known each other looked at her like that and she has no idea how to behave. The only thing she knows is that it makes her skin tingle and a warmth to spread through her stomach.

It must be all the alcohol she has had. No way that Kane was turning her on by simply looking at her.

You’d think that he’d blush or at least avert his gaze after getting caught staring, but Marcus merely raises an eyebrow before taking a sip from his bottle of beer. The slight smugness of his smirk breaks whatever spell there was between them and Abby promptly turns around, but not before throwing him an annoyed glare.

“Fine, he’s hot but he’s still an ass”, Abby concedes, and Callie can’t help but roll her eyes at her statement.

“It’s a start”, Callie shrugs, “But Kane isn’t the only available man at this party. Why don’t you mingle? Flirt a little bit?”

“I know you mean well CC but I’m not really interested in some meaningless flirtation. But that doesn’t mean you can’t mingle. I’ll just go and find Thelonius. You go and enjoy yourself. Just text me or come find me if you want to leave, okay?”, Abby suggests.

“You sure? I don’t want to leave you”, Callie replies.

“Of course I am, besides I won’t be alone. I’ll be bothering Thelonius”, Abby retorts with a smirk before gently nudging her friend towards the door.

“Go, have fun. I’ll be fine”

Callie pressing her hands against Abby’s cheeks and gives her a quick peck, “You’re the best friend ever! I’ll see you later”

Watching Callie leave with a fond smile, she pulls out her phone, intending on texting Thelonius to ask him where he’s at when a throat clears behind her. Without any second thought, Abby turns around, only to come face to face with Marcus.

“Hi”

#kabby #kabby fanfic #marcus kane #abby griffin #otp let's call it hope #skyparents #kabbysource #kabbyfam #kabbytrash #thedailykabby #thekabbydaily #the 100 #lore writes

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