#apologies for these looking like garbage this all took place in a tiny box in the corner of the screen lol

[lizardkingeliot]

Who makes me laugh the most? Uh, Jacob.

[daisiescomelate]

⚠️ Spoilers for Dabi's origin story.

Night Lullaby

Prompt: post-orphanage, pre-League nights with Dabi. He has to stay as still as possible while his new skin pieces heal.

Content: Dabi/Reader, homelessness, Reader nursing Dabi, blood, Dabi's scars, angsty.

masterlist

It was late at night, the streets were quiet as you walked hunched down down the sidewalk of a dead intersection. A drunk guy bumped into you while carrying his groceries. He mumbled an apology as he wobbled on his tracks and you adjusted your hoodie so the brightness of the lightpols wouldn’t catch your features.

The place was far away from the central roads and you turned to get deeper into the darkest part of the hollow neighborhood. A worn down factory, a candy store that had seen better days, an empty lot that used to be a department store, a barber shop with a sign to a dermatologist’s office on the second floor, and before the antique shop that followed, an alley.

You turned into the alley and walked towards the end. An old mix of german shepherd and pitbull waved his tail from his place over an old dirty blanket and you winked at him. Next to the blanket in the space between a wear down box and an overflowed garbage bin, you eyed the cut down bottle that served as a water container. It needed to be refilled.

The heavy metal door up front was wide and covered in rust on the edges. It didn’t hold properly at the brick walls anymore, one of its sides scratched against the floor cement and it had to be pushed with greater strength to open a gap to be able to get through it.

You tapped over your pockets and pulled out the set of keys. From the looks of it they could be the keys of a Victorian mansion, dense, heavy and robust. You tried a few of them before finding the right one in the dark. When you pushed it, it roared and whined at being bothered, like an old monster that wished nothing but to sleep in peace.

The scandal of it was sure to make your presence known. You took your time on the first floor, taking off your jacket, throwing it over the dirty sofa and grabbing a can of soda from the fridge, before going up to the next floor using the dilapidated wooden stairs.

You peeked your eyes over the floor of the attic with your hands grabbing on the edge of the square hole, dust getting caught on your fingertips and the smell of iron prickling your nose.

Most of the windows of the building you occupied were either cracked or shattered. Someone before you had taken their time covering them to not let the sunlight nor the cold pass through them. There was one tiny window you allowed yourself to uncover over the kitchen area to be able to see what you were doing, while everything remained thoroughly shielded upstairs.

On the second floor the only thing that allowed anyone to see was the nightstand light with no lamp shade, raw copper cables at the base and a yellow bulb, right next to the bed; and it wasn’t up to you if the light remained on or off.

“Toya…”, you whispered, in case he were asleep. The room was a dense mass of black until the light blinked back to life and you saw the shadow of a man –a kid– tucked under the white covers of the bed.

“How did it go?”, he said with a raspy voice that hadn’t healed yet. You tried to focus on the blue of his eyes, instead of the fog that blurred the gaze of someone who was so, so tired.

Under the flared up gleam, a dry trail of blood that hadn’t been properly cleaned trickled down from the edge of dead flesh under one of his eyes. The staples bit on his skin and pulled the healthy and dead pieces together.

The scars didn’t reflect the dreading change he had undergone recently the way his eyes did. They had morphed into something so foreign, not as you both left the orphanage, or as he set it on fire with all the other kids inside, but when you followed him home to meet his family again.

Inside that sterilized white tomb where you met, while talking about how much he missed his parents and his siblings, Toya had promised you they were people of good hearts that would have no doubt in taking you in. He was trying to convince you, talk you through it so you would follow him out in his escape plan.

You had refused at the beginning, but how tempting it was the promise of a family so loving. Of a mother, and a father, and Toya. Forever and safe. A place to call home. You let yourself be convinced by his promises because you needed them. But as many other times, life didn’t turn out to be in favor of promises.

When he came back out that day, you were expecting him to waive at you to tell you to get in, you were expecting the family he had talked to you so much about to be in tears grabbing at his clothes and crying their thanks to God. But what came out was a dreadful shell and the face of someone who had finally given up all hope.

He wasn’t sad, he was… empty. Done.

You didn’t blame him. He wasn’t lying, he was lied to. They convinced him they were good and they weren’t. That’s how people work.

At least, you thought, he had you and you had him and you could pick up the pieces together.

Your memories before the orphanage were blurry, featureless faces of men and women, and confusing scenes and locations. None of it mattered to look into. As soon as you were out, hope flared back into your heart and breathing felt lighter, even after what turned out to be of Toya’s family.

You could build more life together now, like the books on the reading corner of the playing area: tiny houses with pretty colors and baking and morning coffee and going out to the cinema. You were excited to finally be out, to finally be free, to finally feel your wings after being clipped for so long.

Toya would need time to mourn, but you would be there to hold his hand and help him keep his head out of the water, and dip down to pick him back up to the surface as many times as he would need, to one day be free too.

And then start again, a clean sheet, a brighter what if.

You move up the few steps left on the stair, tiny pieces of debris crackled under your weight. The room was narrow and besides the nightstand, the bed and a slim closet cabinet, it was empty. You moved forward to sit on the mattress next to him. He didn’t smile, but he rarely did so. You extended your hand and fixed the hairs that fell over his eyes and in every other direction.

“It was okay”, you said.

He was asking about the errand the doc had for you that day.

You looked at the scars on his jaw, running down his neck to his chest just before the edge of his white, worn down shirt. The tiny pieces of metal lining up in shaky rows would eventually rot and poison his blood or fall and open a wound.

Your throat closed once again at the dreading question of why didn’t the asshole of a doctor sew on the patches properly and had to use that thing on him instead. Not a surgical device, not a sanitized tool, but the stapler over his messy desk he glanced at while looking around the improvised surgical room in his office –while his hands clawed Toya’s chunks together.

The man had agreed to do the procedure after being promised a little too many favors. You had been working on those favors since, because you wanted them to be over by the time Toya was able to stand up again.

You knew he would insist on taking care of it as soon as he got on his feet, but you needed his injuries to recover. He looks too close to death for your own comfort. You could only get some rest at night by thinking that maybe the fire had burned all his nerves and the pain wasn't as bad as it should be.

In general, the tasks were very simple, but that was pretty much the reason that made them so sketchy: ‘wait for someone at the train station and give them a package, don't open the package’, ‘wait in front of this house and call me if someone leaves, then get out’.

Nothing insane, but certainly odd.

“You have done enough of those already, tell the old man I will do the rest when I recover. He won’t get full pay until we know his work wasn’t as shitty as it feels.” An excuse to you so you would stop going.

“He said that won’t be possible.” A lie to him because you couldn’t afford to do anything else. “And the last thing we need is an underground bully to come to collect any debt from us.”

You moved your arm behind him to reposition the pillow supporting him. Over the nightstand to the side laid towels, gauze, a jar with water and a bottle of raw alcohol. You picked up one of the cleanest towels –all of them had a degree of blood stains– and damped it with water. Carefully, you tapped the cloth on his face and arms, catching whatever trace of blood you could see under the light.

You made sure to be careful and patient with your work. Toya stayed still, and the rhythm of his breathing, steady. No signs of struggle, no wince in his face. Toya doesn't scream, he doesn't complain, but you didn't know if it was due to his stubbornness or for your own good. Regardless, you kept your attention out for any sign of distress.

Being as it was at the very top, through the walls of Toya’s room the wind roared louder and messed with the roof tiles. Loud bang's and rattling sounds came from everywhere and nowhere during storm days. In there, Toya sat in silence when alone, and talked a few scattered words when you sat next to him, but nothing that would tell you what was going through his mind.

Moving to the side to damp the rag with water again, from the corner of your eyes you saw the bottle of painkillers empty on the floor. They lasted less than a week. Your hands trembled slightly as you debated with yourself if it would be wise to get him another one.

You held Toya’s hand in yours to turn his arm around, but your weak grip must have given you away. A warm hand caressed your cheek and lifted your chin. Toya’s gaze met yours and the anxious tingle of your skin turned into heartache.

“I like your new hoodie.” He stroked his thumb under your eyes as if taking care of invisible tears. You felt the cold of the metal staples at the base of his palm scratching your skin.

You let go of the rag and cupped his hand into yours, then turned your face to the side to bury your nose in his palm. The healthy skin was still soft and under the lingering smell of blood there was the smell of lavender soap.

“I picked up some new clothes for you too, I left them downstairs.”

“So you went shopping, that's nice.” Silly jokes and dark humor was all he had for you, but they had stopped being useful to you as desperation began to sink in. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him anything, however, too scared to make it worse.

You leaned over and hid your face in the crook of his neck.

“People are mean, Toya. I know what it is like to be discarded and forgotten. Please don't get bitter. Now we have each other.” The light of the lamp flickered. A second past, and then two. Toya’s arms moved around you and held you close. His breath tickled the back of your ear when he sighed.

“I know.” His lips brushed your temple, tender despite the scar tissue. “But I can’t move on just yet.”

He pulled you away, and then his palms were on your cheeks once more and the tip of his nose brushed yours.

“There’s a man out there lying to everyone about being a hero.” He whispered, pained. “I can’t let that be.” A flame burned in his eyes, but you didn’t like the color of it.

You didn’t know what that meant.

You felt his pulse, steady despite all, when you put your hand around the collar of his neck. Questions were again heavy in your tongue, but you couldn’t voice them.

"It's going to be okay," he reassured you under his breath, and kissed you softly over your brow. You didn't like the sound of his promise.

On the nightstand, the lamp flickered once again and then left you in the dark.

[riley-kore]

Hi guys. As I aim to write more this year here is a fic I’ve been working on.

To say you were pissed was the least. You had taken the last two days off work to prepare for today. You spent the day decorating the apartment and getting everything ready for his birthday and now he wasn’t answering his phone.

You and Lewis have been together for three years and you have managed to keep it private all this time. You lived in LA and Lewis spent most of the time in Europe. Both of you had very busy schedules but you always made things work. Communication had always been the most important and effective part of your relationship. You had made plans weeks ahead for Lewis to spend his birthday with you and he promised to be home on time because you told him you had plans. But here you were as his birthday came to a close sitting and crying after sending the caterers and the musicians that you hired for his private dinner.

You remember the your sister telling you dating Lewis may only cause you pain. Now here you are all dressed up wearing the dress he loves hoping that this feeling will pass.

Lewis entered the apartment hours later ready to rap his day up. When he got to the living room he saw it the Happy Birthday flower wall, the balloons, burnt out candles all over the place.

“ Shit” he mumbled. He quickly walked to the bedroom looking for you but you weren’t there. He searched the other rooms but nothing. He called your phone and a small ring came from the living room. There you were curled up in the tiniest way possible covered in a blanket. He went over and knelt in front of you. Your eyes were puffy and the tear stains were everywhere. He gently shook you.

You open your eyes and saw him. By this point you weren’t angry, you weren’t sad or disappointed; at least not with Lewis but with yourself. You looked at him got up and walked to the bathroom and started getting ready for bed. You listened while he tired to explain himself and tired to apologize. You had a quick shower and put on some underwear and a tshirt before putting your braids in your bonnet and getting into bed and going to sleep.

You woke up about and hour later, he was fast asleep. You put some shorts on and checked your phone. Sitting in your inbox was a post from your best friend. It’s a video of Lewis and while it didn’t show her face it was obvious that there was a woman sitting on his lap. You took a deep breath close it and put your earphones in. You went to the kitchen and grabbed some garbage bags and started cleaning up everything. When your alarm went off it brought you back to reality. You had disposed of everything and you were now wiping down the kitchen. You got to making breakfast. You made Lewis’s favorite. By the time you were finished he was up and standing by the table.

“ Good Morning” you said and kissed him on the cheek. “ I have a meeting at 10 but I’m free for the rest of the day so I’m thinking we can do a private screening of Avatar”

“ I’m sorry about last night” he said

“ Don’t worry about it “ you replied

“ Babe please don’t act like this get upset something” he plead.

“ Lewis I said it’s fine you’ve got nothing to worry about I’m going to have a quick shower while you work out and then imma do some work”

He watched you walk away completely shocked and confused. He was already feeling guilty knowing what he did but your reaction to last night was eating at him. This isn’t you he knew that.

In the bathroom with the door locked you were sitting on the floor with the box you removed from the closet in front of you with tears running down your face. Looking back at you was the tiny race suit and the card that said ‘Future World Champion coming July 2023’.

And all you could hope for was that the last 48 hours did not happen.

[1kook]

imax & climax

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

His mom was going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it was.

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

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

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

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get off of me.”

——

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

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

——

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

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙇𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 (𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞)

Pairing: Song Mingi (Ateez)× Reader (Female) ft. Park Seonghwa (Ateez)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor.

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: Mingi has liked Y/N for the longest time and works up the courage to confess to her.......until he witnesses her confessing to someone else.

Tag: @seacottons . Happy birthday my tiny goofy goober.

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"Scribbling away another love letter that you'll end up throwing in the garbage bin yet again?"

Mingi quickly covered the paper in front of him with his large hands, startled by the voice of his friend who silently came in the room.

"Yeosang don't freaking scare me like that! Seriously, I'm going to ask Seonghwa to put a bell on you."

Adjusting the glasses on his nose, Mingi carefully folded the paper before placing it inside a pink colored envelope which he ended up wrapping a string around it. For the final touch, he attached a small flower on it like he did on all the other ones, this time it was a mini red carnation, which he gently kissed before placing it in the stash with the others.

Yeosang simply shook his head and sighed.

"Mingi, I'm no relationship expert, but don't you think it'd be better to tell Y/N how you feel instead of pouring your heart out into a piece of paper and storing it in a cold corner?"

The taller male sat still for a couple seconds, thinking about his friend's words. Maybe he would....and yet-

"No I- I can't do that! I mean, look at me. I'm just Mingi and she's Y/N."

Yeosang rolled his eyes.

"Yes, glad to see you know both of your names. But what's keeping you from telling her? Like seriously?"

Kicking himself off the chair, Mingi slumped onto his bed, sprawling all over it and groaning dramatically.

"She's super cool, funny, kind, caring and has eyes to die for..."

Lifting his head up he smiled goofily at Yeosang who just scrunched his nose at how lovesick Mingi was. Coming back to reality, Mingi rolled over onto his back. Clutching a nearby pillow, he hugged it as he looked at the ceiling.

"And I'm just me.......she'd never fall for someone like me..."

Yeosang sat next to him. Patting his arm in an effort to comfort him, he suggested:

"Why not try still? Who knows? Maybe you'll end up being surprised yourself."

Mingi pondered over his Yeosang's words long after he was gone. He looked back at the stash of written confessions he had drafted over the past months.

"Why not? After all, it wouldn't hurt me to try......"

"Right?"

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Y/N paced back and forth around the living room, feeling extremely anxious and agitated.

"It's ok Y/N. Just breathe and you'll be fine. The worse he can do is reject you right? No biggie." She mentally told herself.

Looking back at the cake on the island, she double checked to make sure it looked perfect and even. She had to remind herself to thank Yunho for telling her what his friend's favorite cake was, even if he had demanded a cake of his own as payment for the information. She got startled when she finally heard the door open.

"Don't panic! Don't panic!" She couldn't keep herself from fidgeting with the sleeves of her sweater.

Maybe there was still time to back out of this, maybe she could pretend she dropped the cake for all of them, even if he was the only one there at that moment. She was so frustrated she actually leaned her forehead against the wall in front of her and whined lowly.

"Y/N?" She finally heard him speak.

Without turning around, she lifted a hand behind her to signal him to not speak. Taking a deep breath she declared:

"Listen! I'm only going to say this once so hear me out...."

The man behind her stood there, eyeing her curiously, wondering what she'd say. He was pretty shocked when he heard her continue.

"I've liked you for the longest time now...... like seriously like you. Every time I see you, I feel like my heart is about to jump out of my chest..."

Sighing softly, she got to the final part.

"I understand if you don't feel the same, if you'll see me as nothing but a friend. After all, you're an idol and have so many pretty faces constantly surrounding you, and you're so handsome, so perfect and sweet and cute and- ugh! I just wanted to let you know that I really really like you ok?!"

She felt so embarrased by herself and actually contemplated banging her head against the concrete in front of her. She already could feel the rejection coming, the silence being the huge indicator. Not able to bear the silence anymore, she turned around.

"Stop dragging it on and just tell me- Seonghwa?!"

She was beyond mortified when she saw the eldest Ateez member in front of her, who was now poking at the cake.

"I mean........ I appreciate the sentiment Y/N, but you should know my favorite ice cream is strawberry. Not .....whatever this is..."

Y/N snatched the cake away from him.

"It's not for you idiot! And the confession wasn't for you either!"

Seonghwa pretended to be hurt by her words.

"Ouch. You hurt me so bad." He mock pouted, causing her to roll her eyes.

"But honestly, thank God it wasn't for me. I was about to get a heart attack from thinking about how to let you down gently."

Y/N looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, no offense Y/N. You're cute and all but I just see you as a friend." He explained.

"None taken. You're cute and all but I just see you as the other's nanny." She teased him.

"Hey you take that back!" He swatted at her, causing her to laugh and almost drop the cake.

"Ok but if you weren't expecting me to come by the door? Who were you expecting?"

Leaning his elbow on the wall, Seonghwa looked at Y/N with a mischievous twinkle in the eye.

"Tell me. I must know who among our members is it that makes your heart pound so much?"

"That's my secret." She pretended to zip her lips tightly.

"Awww come on! I hardly get any excitement anymore! Tell me! I wanna know!" He continued pestering her to dish it out.

She bit her lip before deciding she could trust him.

"It's.....it's Mingi. ..."

Seonghwa immediately got a shocked look on his face which terrified Y/N, but then it confused her when he started smiling widely.

"Are you serious?! That's great!" Seonghwa actually hugged her tightly.

"Why is that great?"

Seonghwa leaned in, pressing his lips to her ear.

"Because, he may or may not be also crushing on you....hard."

Seonghwa chuckled at her reaction.

"Cute. Super cute."

Seonghwa couldn't resist the urge to nuzzle his nose against her cheek, making Y/N make gagging noises at his affection and jokingly attemp to escape his grasp.....

Yet neither of them noticed the heartbroken pair of eyes that was watching them.

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Mingi was upset for the next few days and didn't even try to hide it. He couldn't get that image out of his head. He could still hear Y/N's voice say:

"I've liked you for the longest time now...... like seriously like you. Every time I see you, I feel like my heart is about to jump out of my chest...

I just wanted to let you know that I really really like you ok?!"

He was so shocked to hear her say that. For the longest time he had wanted to hear her utter those words....

But they weren't for him, they were for someone else.

He couldn't stay anymore. He quietly exited the dorm to give them both the space they needed. Waiting for several minutes outside, he debated whether to go back inside and see what happened or just go back to the company to practice the choreography once more and hopefully get his mind off things. Curiosity getting the better of him, Mingi slowly opened the door again and silently peeked his head back in.

He instantly regretted it and wished he had just gone back to practice. It absolutely destroyed him watching his Hyung be lovey dovey with the girl of his dreams and he knew he'd hate the coming days. Which was why he stayed in his room or just went out to practice to keep his mind occupied.

He wasn't in the mood to play with Yunho, mess with Hongjoong and especially not eat what Seonghwa cooked. It started to worry the others and of course, it also worried Y/N to no end. She tried to cheer him up, make him his favorite foods or try to get him out of bed, but it was all in vain. Mingi would end up shutting down more and just dismissing her attempts, sometimes harshly.

"Y/N please just leave me alone! I don't want to see you!" He yelled at her one day when he just couldn't control what he'd kept bottled up inside.

He instantly felt bad when he saw her sad and disappointed eyes, but didn't apologize. He simply grabbed his coat and went for a walk, leaving the poor girl in total disillusionment. Y/N sat down on his bed, her hand gently stroking the throw blanket he always kept.

"Now you've got a long face. Don't tell me it's contagious."

Usually she'd chuck a pillow at Yeosang's comment, but she didn't even feel like doing that.

"What's with you?" Yeosang asked as he took a seat next to her.

"I'm just....hurt.." She admitted.

"Why?" He continued his interrogation.

"I just......wanted to help Mingi but instead he lashed out at me and it hurts because I care about him a lot and it hurts to have the person you like treat you so coldly."

She didn't even realize she had just told Yeosang her secret, but she was too hurt to even think about the words coming out of her mouth. Yeosang however seemed intrigued by what she said, and knowing how Mingi was pining for her as well, couldn't understand either why he'd make her feel that way.

"If it's any consolation..... he likes you too."

Although Seonghwa had already hinted that Mingi liked her too, she couldn't really take his words seriously because Seonghwa tended to misinterpret things. But she knew Yeosang was straightforward and honest in everything, plus he wouldn't make something like this up.

"He does?" She looked at him incredulously.

Yeosang nodded. Remembering the box Mingi hid, he got up, not caring whether it was ok or not to do this, but something had to be done. Picking up the red box he placed it on Y/N's lap.

"Read them. They're Mingi's. Maybe there you'll find a clue about what's bothering him."

Ruffling the top of her head, Yeosang exited the room and closed the door behind him, knowing she'd probably want the privacy.

Snapping the latch up, Y/N was more than surprised to see several letters neatly laid out in the box. There were at least a dozen of them, all addressed to her and stacked by the order they were written in. The envelopes were all different colors, and each had a unique flower attached to it, some already dried out from how old they were, but others were still fresh and vibrant. Picking up the first one in the stack, she noticed it was dated 1 week after she had just moved into the apartment next to them.

"Dear Y/N,

I know you'd find it odd to hear me say this, but I think you're so pretty and nice and I was wondering if one day you'd like to go on a date with me? Let me know."

She giggled softly at how cute he was. She poured over the next letters one by one, each time they were getting longer and longer than the last one, and they certainly became more romantic.

"Dear Y/N,

It's been only a few minutes since we all went to bed cause New Year's is over, but I honestly can't sleep. Not when my head is filled with images of you at the party, looking absolutely gorgeous in that dress you wore. Let me tell you, I could hardly keep myself still when the fireworks began. I seriously wanted to kiss you right then and there, and I would have, but that would have probably freaked you out and I can't have that. Admiring you was enough for me and I know I will get to kiss you, even if it's only in my dreams."

Y/N fondly remembered that. She recalled how she fantasized about Mingi kissing her as well. She desperately wanted him to cup her face and just plant his luscious lips on hers. She could feel herself blushing as she thought about how they would feel and what would they taste like. It was well an hour later but she finally reached the last letter, which was actually written up just yesterday. This time it was in a dark blue envelop and it had a tiny stem of Forget-Me-Nots on it.

"Dear Y/N,

I know it's foolish to keep writing these things when I now know you can never be mine, when I know your heart belongs to someone else. But I need to get it off my chest and finally say this:

I love you..."

She clutched her heart when she read that, tears already forming in her eyes.

"I love you, but I can never have you. Yet I hold no resentment towards you. You're free to love who you want. I wish you and Seonghwa Hyung nothing but happiness and I hope he treats you like the princess you are.

Forever yours, hoping you never forget me,

Song Mingi."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, wondering what he meant by being happy with Seonghwa. Then it hit her. Mingi had started acting strange the day after the misunderstanding with Seonghwa happened. Which meant he must have seen something and thought-

"Oh my God!"

Y/N quickly ran out the room, almost bumping into San who dramatically slammed his back on the wall, holding his beloved baby high above any danger.

"It's ok my precious Byeol! Your father has saved you from this heathen who doesn't know that she shouldn't run in the house especially when I'm with child!"

San shook his head and held the feline close to him as he walked into his room to play with her, singing an unintelligible tune that wasn't exactly pleasant to the siamese' ears.

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Y/N was once again sweating nervously. She kept looking and shuffling the plate of macarons in the middle of the table. She specifically poked at the pink one, hoping it wouldn't fall apart or anything. She could hardly take a sip out of her own coffee as she waited for Mingi to get there. She was beginning to worry he wouldn't show up at all, but Yeosang promised to make sure he did. She took out her phone to text Yeosang, ask him if he succeeded or should she just think of something else.

"Y/N? Did you call me here?"

She fumbled with her phone that almost dropped out of her hands when she finally heard Mingi and saw him standing there in front of her.

"Uhm...yeah. Please sit."

She gestured for him to sit which he hesitantly did. He kept his glance on the table, not even looking at the drink or treats in front of him. Wanting to break the ice, Y/N shifted the cup and plates closer to him.

"Look. I got your favorites."

She hoped to get a reaction out of him, but nothing. He barely batted an eyelash at them.

"Oh.....thanks...." Still made no move to take anything.

Feeling impatient, Y/N shoved the plate of macarons closer, making it touch his hand.

"Mingi.....won't you please take one?"

He sighed in defeat, and as expected, he took the pink one.

"I appreciate your effort Y/N. You're a good friend. But don't you think your boyfriend might get jealous of you doing this? We all know how Seonghwa is with his possessions."

Y/N wanted to refute that statement right then and there, but instead, she chose to wait. Mingi took a bite out of the macaron, or at least attempted to but it felt oddly hard and weird. Examining it closely, he accidentally broke it apart in two pieces, and out came a tiny folded paper. Mingi looked at Y/N, who just pointed to the paper, her eyes urging him to open it. Mingi carefully unfolded the paper and his eyes went wide as he read the contents:

"I love you too♡"

Confused and wondering what it meant, he was going to ask Y/N about it, but she began explaining:

"That day.....that you saw me and Seonghwa..... I thought it was you who was standing behind me."

If they weren't sitting in a booth and had instead been at one of the tables with high chairs, Mingi would have seriously fallen out of it.

"That confession....was supposed to be for you.."

Mingi couldn't believe what he was hearing. He actually pinched himself to make sure it wasn't another beautiful delusion his mind was making up.

"Are.....are you serious?" He had to be sure.

Y/N nodded her head.

"Then....then why was Seonghwa kissing your cheek afterwards?"

Y/N giggled softly.

"That wasn't a kiss. He was just being the little shit he was and teasing me about you."

Now it all made sense. Seonghwa did enjoy teasing Y/N and that teasing was always followed by a pinch to her cheek, a squeezing of her nose, or even messing up her hair.

"So it was all a misunderstanding?" Mingi asked.

"Yeah. A rather big and painful one if you ask me." She added sadly.

Then Mingi's eyes shot up as he realized something.

"Wait! What do you mean you love me too?"

Now it was Y/N's turn to blush.

"Well...... Yeosang kinda showed me all the letters you wrote."

Mingi thought he was about to have a heart attack.

"Please tell me you didn't read them all."

When she bit her lip, Mingi grimaced and covered his face.

"How embarrassing. I want to die now."

"Well.....I thought they were really sweet and romantic. I loved every one of them."

Peeking out through his fingers, Mingi squeaked out an "Really?"

Y/N couldn't resist the urge to uncover his face and coo at him.

"Yes I did, almost as much as I love you."

Mingi blushed intensely at her words, both of them bursting out into little giggles.

"So that cake you made.......those words you said..... it is for me?" He looked at Y/N with hope in his eyes.

"It was always you Mingi."

Pouting, Mingi held out his pinkie.

"Promise?"

Linking her own pinkie in his, she promised:

"Promise it was you and it will always be you."

Mingi was happy once again now that everything was cleared up and he found out the girl he loved reciprocated his feelings. They left the cafe together, both shy and quiet as if they were a newlywed couple. Mingi kept glancing over at her, wanting to say something, but didn't know what. Unconsciously, he brushed his hand against hers.

"Sorry!" He apologized when she whipped her head at him.

"I swear! I wasn't trying to-"

His words got caught in his throat when she held his hand and continues walking as if it was totally normal. Mingi couldn't stop himself from smiling at their physical contact.

"So uhh..........when is it an acceptable time to have our first kiss?"

His question made her burst out laughing. He however didn't find it funny.

"I'm serious! I just want to know when it'll be an acceptable time to kiss my girlfriend!" He complained.

Stopping in their tracks, Y/N faced him.

"Ok you really wanna know?"

Mingi nodded. Feeling bold, Y/N got on her tippy toes and pecked his lips so quickly it took Mingi a couple seconds to register what happened. Y/N began running back away and laughing at his dumbfounded expression. Once he got over the shock, Mingi began sprinting over to her.

"Hey! No fair! Come back here! I wasn't ready! Let me kiss you properly!"

Having longer legs, he easily caught her and threw her over his shoulder.

"That was so mean." He huffed as he began walking again, not caring if people looked at them weird.

"Ok what can I do to make it up to you?" She offered.

Humming softly, Mingi answered:

"I want you to cuddle me while we watch movies."

Y/N shrugged.

"Done. It's a deal."

Not hiding the smug smile on his face, Mingi added:

"And I want to kiss you."

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[shatteredrabbit]

Some backstory stuff for Rabbit from the @ fazbear-ent-official rp!

Side note: The whole first person thing is mainly for the FazEnt roleplayers-

TW: verbal abuse, yelling

"So...what's your story?"

“My story? Really?”

You nod, staring down at the parking lot below the two of you.

“Why is there even a ladder up to the roof back here?” You think to yourself shortly after taking a garbage bag out to the dumpster in the back. Just towards the nearby alley way is a rusted ladder leading to the pizzeria’s rooftop. Out of sheer curiosity, you climb up, the metal squeaking under your weight.

Then you see her, Rabbit. You’ve never truly gotten a good look at her, since she’s typically cooped up in the kitchen. Now that you do see her, or at least her back, it does occur to you how tiny she really is. You always knew she was short, but on top of that she seems so thin. She wears that baggy jacket all day, but now that it’s tied around her waist and you can actually see her slim-fit uniform. She’s like a twig.

“What are you doing up here?” She suddenly spoke. You didn’t think she was aware of your presence.

“I could ask you the same thing,” You answer plainly.

“I just like it up here. And it’s a great place to watch the sunset, ya know?” Rabbit looked over her shoulder at you, the bunny ears on her beanie flopping along with her movement.

“Come. Sit with me.” She pats the space next to her, inviting you to join her. You walk over, shoes clopping against the roof. In a matter of moments, you’re sitting next to her, feet dangling over the edge of the building.

“So...what’s your story?” You ask after a few minutes of silence.

“My story, huh? It’s a long one, that’s for sure.”

“I have time.”

“If you insist…” Rabbit sighs, gazing out across the city, “But it’s not really a story… More like, several little ones. Moments that had a lot of impact on me, even ones that seem so...mundane.”

[May 5th, 2010]

“Momma! Momma! Look what I drew for you!!” Four-year-old Kaya excitedly held up a messily drawn picture of the family.

“That’s nice, Kaya.” her mother answered apathetically, eyes fixed on the television.

“But you didn’t even look at it!”

“I’m busy right now.”

“It’ll only take a second!” Kaya held it higher, standing on her toes to do so.

“Pretty please!” Kaya whined after there was no answer.

“Momma, look at it!!” Kaya stood in front of the TV, insisting her mother pay attention.

In one swift motion, her mother grabbed the drawing and tore it apart. She tossed the crumbled and tattered remains on the floor before pushing Kaya aside.

“B-but-!” Kaya’s eyes began to water.

“I’m. Busy.” Her mother hissed.

Kaya got back on her feet. She stared at her mother in horror, then down to her ruined drawing. She picked up what was left of it and raced back to her room, choking on her own tears.

[June 23, 2014]

“Happy birthday to me… Happy birthday to me… Happy birthday dear Kaya… Happy birthday to me…” Kaya sang half-heartedly. She was nine now, but it wasn’t anything special. Birthdays never were special.

She blew out the flame of the match she held. It was no cake, or cupcake for that matter, but it was something. Something to just prove she’d lived another year. She took a permanent marker and wrote “9” on the small space that was the wooden section of the match. She stored the match in an empty altoids container right next to the match from last year.

Thump thump thump!

“Come in.” Kaya sighed, putting the container in the top drawer of her nightstand and closing it.

“Hey shortstack,” her dad opened the door and poked his head in, “have you seen my lighter? I need a smoke but I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Sorry, no.”

“Damn. I keep losing those things.” He huffed and left, closing the door behind him.

“No clue why…” Kaya murmured to herself as she turned her attention to a solid grey pencil box sitting on her dresser.

That’s where she hid the lighters.

[November 26, 2018]

She gripped the thread in her teeth and tugged on it to tighten the stitching. She grabbed the two big green buttons sitting on her desk and positioned them on the yellow fabric. It was almost complete.

A few more stitches and it was all done. She held up the beanie, the pale yellow rabbit ears limply dangling at its sides. The green button eyes stared at her, accented by the rosy pink cheeks. She tugged the beanie over her messy brown hair and turned her attention to the mirror.

This. This felt right. This felt like her.

Rabbit.

[March 22nd, 2021]

“When are you going to get a job, you lazy little leech?” Her mother growled just as Rabbit stepped foot outside her bedroom. Rabbit clenched her fists and tried to walk past.

“If you don’t get a job this week you’re out of here!” Her mother blocked her path to the front door.

“I already have an interview, so shut the fuck up!!” Rabbit snapped, shoving past her mother and managing to get out the front door. Her mother lurched forwards to grab her by the hood of her coat, but missed. Without a second thought, Rabbit hopped on her scooter and raced down the sidewalk.

“I’m not missing another interview because of that fat ugly bitch!!” Rabbit cussed as she sped up, tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes. Luckily the place she applied to wasn’t too far from home...but that was also problematic. What if her parents just showed up to work unannounced? What would her boss think of their behavior?? Could they get her fired???

It wasn’t until someone shouted in surprise that Rabbit was brought out of her thoughts and into reality. She swerved and skidded to a halt, just inches away from hitting someone.

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!!” Rabbit apologized profusely, “I wasn’t looking cause I was so worried I’d be late to my interview and-”

“It’s quite alright Miss Mayanna, I actually came out here to keep an eye out for you. Let’s get that interview done, shall we?” A man with icy blue eyes smiled crookedly at her.

He pushed the front doors open, releasing a wave of cheap pizza smell, “Welcome to Freddy’s, Miss Mayanna.”

[aespawpaq]

Netflix and Chill (3)

IMAX and CLIMAX

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

His mom was going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it was.

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

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

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

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today… well.

You were playing a different game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get off of me.”

——

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

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

[captain-s-rogers]

Have A Little Faith In Me

(gif credit to the creator)

Part Two

Master List

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC // Clint Barton x OFC Word Count: 2,090 Warnings: none? A/N: Here’s the second part of the rewrite of my first ever Marvel series! Special thanks to the best bestie in the world, @arrowsandmixtapes​ , for making sure all of my work isn’t absolute garbage! If you want to be added to my tag list please let me know! Feedback is cool :)

The few days that passed before Steve called to arrange their date were nearly torturous. Sophia checked her phone every few minutes, tried to keep as many calls to her office phone as she could, and wondered how a dance and a drink had left such an impact on her. 

When Steve did finally call, the both of them agreed not to wait any longer; they scheduled the date for that very evening. Steve suggested a restaurant in Little Italy, and Sophia quickly agreed. She was familiar with the place and simply thinking of the menu had her mouth watering. 

“I really need to go shopping,” Sophia groaned, falling back onto her bed next to where Lucy was seated. Sophia had just torn through her entire wardrobe and, no matter what Lucy told her would be pretty and perfect, not one outfit seemed right to Sophia. 

Lucy got up and surveyed the contents of her friend’s closet. She chuckled, “You don’t need to go shopping, you just need to breathe. You’re nervous and excited, so nothing looks right. Tell me again, where are you going?”

“Luciano’s, in Little Italy? You went there with me once before, that time Mom came into the city for her birthday. It’s small but not necessarily casual dining. Remember, she had too many glasses of wine that night and kept calling you Luciano? She couldn’t believe you wouldn’t tell her you had a restaurant named after you.”

Lucy remembered, and she giggled at the memory as she thumbed through the dresses in Sophia’s closet. After a brief consideration, she pulled out a green skater dress and a cropped black cardigan. She put them on a hanger together and held the outfit up for Sophia to see. 

“He’s tall, so you can get away with pairing this with those cute black pumps I’m always trying to steal,” Lucy noted. “And this shade of green always compliments your complexion.”

“That. Is. Perfect! I can’t believe you managed to find something in all that mess.” She took the dress and sweater from her friend and immediately stripped of her comfy clothes so she could get dressed for her date. 

“Well,” Lucy replied, reaching to put the hanger back in a free space on the rod, “I do know you pretty well, and I’m not freaking out at the moment.”Lucy winked at her friend, then left Sophia alone to finish getting ready. 

It took another hour or so, but Sophia was finally dressed, hair and makeup done. She had decided Lucy was right about shoes and had slid her feet into her favorite pair of black pumps. Once she had packed a few essentials into the clutch that complemented her outfit, she let Lucy know she was headed to meet Steve. 

“I won’t be out too late, promise.”

Lucy laughed. “Let’s hope you are. Have fun, be safe!”

The cab ride from their shared apartment in Manhattan to the agreed upon restaurant in Little Italy was nearly thirty minutes, and Sophia was brimming with excitement. Her nerves were as active as ever; her hand shook when she handed the driver a few bills for fare plus a decent tip. 

After working her way through the crowd at the front of the restaurant, Sophia approached the hostess. 

“I’m meeting someone, we have a reservation.” She tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered at the idea of giving someone’s name besides Lucy’s or her own. “Rogers, party of two.”

The hostess reviewed the reservation list and nodded. She plucked two menus from a nearby basket and smiled at Sophia. 

“Of course, we have your table waiting. Follow me, right this way.”

The table was in the middle of the restaurant, but still spaced out enough from the others that they would be able to hold a conversation easily enough without the background noise making it difficult. Two taper candles in pretty holders were lit on either side of a votive of flowers in the middle of the table.

The waiter was quick to approach; Sophia let him know that she was waiting for her date. 

“He shouldn’t be too far behind, though.” She glanced at the drinks section of the menu. “Would it be all right if I ordered a glass of wine while I wait?”

“Yes, of course. What would you like?”

Sophia gave the young man her wine order, then sat back to peruse the food options and wait for Steve to arrive. 

Choosing black dress pants and a pale, blue button down shirt had been easy for Steve when it came to dressing for his date with Sophia. The black pants seemed appropriate for the occasion and venue, and he knew that the blue shirt would bring out his eyes. The tie, on the other hand, was the tough choice. He had narrowed it down to three, holding each one up in front of him, eventually narrowing the choice down to two. Before he could eliminate another choice, a knock sounded loudly from his apartment door. With a frustrated sigh, Steve tossed the ties on his bed and headed to answer the door. Hopefully it was some kid selling candy he could toss a five dollar bill at and go back to his ties. 

The knocking persisted, even as he walked toward the door. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

He was ready to give the visitor the brushoff, as he was already running a few minutes later than he would have liked, but he stopped abruptly when he saw S.H.I.E.L.D. director Nick Fury standing in the hallway. 

“How often do you make house calls?” Steve quipped. 

Fury walked into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. “When someone isn’t answering their phone, a house call sometimes becomes necessary.”

Steve groaned. He had left his phone on the kitchen table while ironing his shirt earlier, and hadn’t thought about it again -- he was too distracted thinking of Sophia. 

“Yeah, I was ironing a shirt and --”

“Suit up, Cap. We need you.” Fury’s interruption didn’t leave much room for argument or discussion, but that hadn’t stopped Steve before. 

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Are you sure you need me? I’m all for answering the call of duty, sir, but I kind of -- I have a date.”

The reason for his hesitancy seemed weak, even to his own ears, once it was out in the open. He was Captain America, after all. The mission should have been his priority. 

“The head of the UN has been taken hostage in Russia, so unfortunately, your love connection is going to have to be put on hold. This is time sensitive, Captain.”

Steve went to the kitchen for his phone, but Fury stood in his path. Like a bothered teenager, Steve rolled his eyes, remembered who he was and what he stood for, and went for his suit and shield. 

Thirty minutes had passed, and there was still no sign of Steve. Sophia checked her phone, disappointed that she had no messages waiting to tell her what might be holding him up. She ordered another glass of wine and waited, answering some work emails from her mobile, hoping Steve would come and interrupt her. 

“Is your other party still on his way, miss? Would you like to go ahead and order?”

This was the third time the waiter had asked. She checked the time to see she had been sitting here alone for an hour now, no word from Steve. Apparently, she had been stood up. She ordered another glass of wine, a double order of garlic knots to go, then paid her check and caught a taxi home. 

She had been excited and nervous on the way to Luciano’s, but now Sophia felt irate and hurt. Steve had seemed so eager to go out with her after they danced -- hell, even when they had talked to set up the date earlier that day -- she was baffled by the fact that he hadn’t shown up. She wondered silently if she should have waited a little longer, but told herself not to be silly. She’d waited an hour. That was plenty long enough. If Steve Rogers was the kind of man who played a woman and set a date without the intention of showing up, Sophia decided she was better off. 

When she finally returned home, all Sophia wanted to do was have a few glasses of wine, take a hot bath, and go to bed. She sighed as she let herself into the apartment; no doubt Lucy would still be awake and have a lot of questions about her night. 

“Brought home garlic knots,” Sophia announced, setting the box on the coffee table in front of where her friend sat on the couch. 

“Yum,” Lucy said, perking up at just the smell. She immediately got into the box, picking up one of the knots and tearing a piece off. “Delicious.”

Sophia smiled. “I thought you’d like them.”

“You’re home way earlier than I thought,” Lucy frowned. “Ooh, did he turn out to be a dud? Did the conversation suck? Is he just good looks with nothing to back them up?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sophia sighed, toeing off her shoes, “he never showed.”

“You’re kidding!” Lucy exclaimed, tiny crumbs of garlic knot sputtering out with her surprise. She covered her mouth and apologized. Shaking her head, she reached for another garlic knot. “You know what, Soph, fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you. If he knew --” 

“Luce, I love you, and I appreciate the my-best-friend-deserves-the-world sentiments, but right now I only want to have some wine, take a long, hot bath, and go to bed.”

“Soph...” 

“Really, I’ll be fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been stood up, I’m sure it won’t be the last.” 

“I know, but this guy is -- he’s, like, stupidly handsome.”

“Lucy.” 

The other girl winced. “Sorry, you’re right. I’ll shut up about it. Go get your bath ready, I’ll open a bottle of wine.” 

The mission to save the head of the UN was flawlessly accomplished. Steve had gotten the man out of the hostage situation safely, sat tiredly through the debriefing at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters and was now finally back home. He peeled out of his suit, set his shield against the wall, and turned to retrieve some pajama pants and a t-shirt from his dresser. He saw the shirt and pants and two ties discarded on his bed and sighed to himself. One victory, one loss for the night. Good thing he didn’t need much sleep at this point; he wasn’t going to get any. 

He went to the refrigerator for a drink and spotted his phone on the table. He was still getting used to the device, which was likely why he hadn’t thought much of its absence while he was getting dressed, and why calling Sophia hadn’t been his first thought coming into the apartment. Not to mention, every clock in the house was telling him it was after three in the morning; calling now would be unwelcomed for a number of reasons, he was sure. 

“Should have just called her anyway,” Steve sighed, wishing he hadn’t obeyed that part of Fury’s orders. 

But, if it was this hour, maybe she was sleeping and wouldn’t answer. With a fervent hope that her voicemail would pick up and he wouldn’t bother her while she was sleeping, Steve found Sophia’s number in his contacts. He pressed the green button to make the call, letting out a relieved whoosh of breath when her voicemail picked up after a few rings. 

“Sophia, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers. I’m so sorry about not making our date tonight. Something important came up, and I couldn’t get out of it. I swear, I wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t an emergency. Is there any way you’d want to reschedule? I would still love to take you out. Just give me a call back and let me know either way. It’s Steve, by the way, not sure if I mentioned that. Right, okay.”

He hit the red button to end the call and tossed the phone away. The voicemail was a feeble attempt to get her to talk to him, and Steve could only hope that she would at least agree to talk to him so he could do a better job of apologizing when he wasn’t a couple hours out from a mission and his mind wasn’t so worn out.

@arrowsandmixtapes​​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​ @growningupgeek​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​ @kitkatd7​​ @patzammit​​ @sagechanoafterdark​​ @what-is-your-plan-today​​

[fleckcmscott]

The Knot

Summary: Arthur and Y/N finally have the wedding they discussed on their sprint to City Hall.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,238

A/N: This was requested by @sweet-nothings04​. It is the fluffiest thing I have ever written. Special thanks to @ithinkimawriter​ for the support and beta-reading!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The nightly routine Y/N had developed over the years was a simple one. Her barely-there foundation, neutral eye shadow, eyeliner, and light mascara would be washed away with soap and water. After changing into a nightgown, she'd brush her teeth and hair. Moisturizing cream would be dabbed on her forehead, cheeks, and chin. (A couple of thin lines had formed at the corners of her mouth, and she hoped to prevent more.) She'd crawl into bed beside Arthur, they'd talk and cuddle, then she'd kiss him good night and wait for sleep to take her. It was a relaxing end to the day that didn't require a lot of effort.

But this evening was not routine. What Patricia seemed to have planned for it put Y/N's habits to shame. Peeking into the mint green satchel she'd brought caused a grimace. It was possible the clay and honey cosmetic masks wouldn't be too bad. The toe separators and nail polish and pumice stones didn't interest her. And the floral, spray-in hair perfume was pungent. God. All this fuss prompted Y/N to pour the both of them the rest of the wine.

"This is too much for me." Y/N frowned in the bathroom mirror and examined the mud on her face. "How long do I need to keep this on?" she asked, the alcohol making her grumble.

"Ten minutes." Patricia set a timer and placed it on the sink. "And don't whine. This stuff is why no one knows I'm over fifty."

"And here I assumed it was your vibrant personality." After taking a sip from her glass, Y/N turned to the tub. There were about five inches of hot water in it, topped with pink foam that smelled like artificial roses. It reminded her of the dusty, scented candles her grandmother had kept in the bathroom, but never lit. Patricia sat on the edge, dipped her feet in and waved for Y/N to join her.

Patricia started scrubbing the ball of her foot. "Are you excited?"

Y/N made a thoughtful noise. When she and Arthur had gotten married at city hall a year ago, she hadn't needed a wedding - she'd needed to be married to him. He'd wished for one, though, and she'd promised him that. "The wedding I had before was stressful. I could go without it." A gentle smile came across her cheeks. "But I am for him." She sighed contently as she submerged her feet. "When we were filling out the invitations a month ago, he was so happy. He pasted one in his journal - he showed me the page - and put exclamation points all around it."

That wasn't all he'd done. Arthur had convinced her to practice a slow dance to one of his mood music records. It hadn't taken much effort for him to talk her into it. ("I've imagined this a lot," he'd told her.) She figured she'd gotten pretty good, having learned to let him lead her instead of trying to anticipate his steps. His generous encouragements and the pleasure in his eyes had helped.

Snorting, Patricia grabbed a nearby smoother and began working on her heel. "How did a hard-ass like you end up with a sweet man like him?"

"He thinks I'm sweet." Y/N shook her head, splashing around with her toes. "Don't tell him he's been had."

At the buzzing of the timer, Y/N sprung up and went to the sink. Getting the mask off was as annoying as she'd suspected. The packaging said to use a cloth, lukewarm water, and circular motions. But the clay was stubborn and didn't want to leave her face. Patricia apparently found it hilarious, laughing all the harder when Y/N looked at her with indignation. Three washrags and an empty glass of wine later, her skin was clear. Irritated, but clear.

Patricia gestured over her shoulder as she dried off. "There's a present for you in my bag. You said no gifts, but it's nothing. And I didn't want to give it to you in front of Robert and Matt tomorrow."

Intrigued, Y/N retrieved the bag from the floor and sat next to her on the tub's edge. Matt, Y/N's former boss, she could understand. But what would Patricia give her that she didn't want her own husband to see? It only took a little digging to find the box, slightly bigger than her hand, with a red ribbon around it. "You shouldn't have." She opened it and pulled out what was inside. Her best friend had given her a black, satin thong with side ties. She stared at it a moment, then burst out laughing. "It's so tiny," she exclaimed, the triangle front barely large enough to cover her palm. "I don't have the ass for this!"

Winking, Patricia nudged her upper arm. "It won't stay on long enough for Arthur to notice."

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Arthur was at a pub with a friend for the first time in his life. He'd been to comedy clubs plenty of times, and Y/N had introduced him to numerous restaurants. But his general lack of interest in drinking and absence of companionship had never made bars a desirable destination. It had been Gary's idea, though. And with his company, Arthur was part of the crowd instead of apart from it.

They were seated at a small booth near the kitchen, away from everyone. Their conversation was sparse. Despite his overall increase in comfort, Arthur still had a hard time with social situations. Granted, Y/N had told him he was steadily getting better at them. And now, with the effect of the Fuzzy Navel in his hand, he was doing all right. There had been no forced laughter (which only happened a few times a month), no bouncing of his legs, and no nail biting. He was proud of himself for that, especially given the hint of nervousness he felt.

Tomorrow was their big day. The wedding was going to be at their apartment. There would only be four guests: he'd made it clear Penny wasn't welcome, and the elderly woman Y/N had invited, Ms. McPhee, had declined with an apology and cookies, saying she was too ill to go anywhere. Dinner would be potluck style. Finally, he'd fucking have what he'd dreamed about for years. Although it was implied every time he touched Y/N, he'd get to vow, publicly, to stay with her forever. To take care of her, no matter their circumstances. To love her ceaselessly. And, he reflected, she'd promise to belong to him, too. He grinned around his cigarette as he smoked, looking into his drink, joy rushing through him at the thought.

Gary took a swig of his porter. "Are you looking forward to tomorrow?"

"Yes." Arthur answered without hesitation. "But I don't know why Y/N wanted me to spend the night out. We're already married."

"You can't sleep with the bride before the wedding. It's tradition."

Tradition. His chest tightened at that. Tradition hadn't meant anything most of this life, anything besides futile yearning. He couldn't remember if he'd been read to as a kid. Lost teeth probably ended up in the garbage. Holidays had always been too expensive to take part in, and with Penny's apathy and all the hours he'd worked, he hadn't had the energy to try. He was glad to be making up the deficit with Y/N. Still. This was an odd custom, and not really applicable to them. "But I've been sleeping with her for two years." Almost as soon as he spoke, he realized his double entendre. He brought a hand to his forehead. "Shit. Sorry, Gary."

A sly smile crossed Gary's face, but he didn't seem upset. Which made sense - filthy jokes and dirty tales often flew around the locker room at HaHa's. The shorter man reached into the breast pocket of his striped shirt, then held out a small package. "Here. I got this for you."

Curious, Arthur examined the cellophane enclosed carton. The teal box of NoDoz said it would keep him awake, was fast acting, and safe as coffee. And there was a sentence, written in a cursive font on the bottom edge: "Number 1 with Newlyweds!" Oh. Oh. He knew what they were for. Once in a while he'd come across The Honeymoon Game when flipping through channels. The tablets were often mentioned, along with comments about "being busy all night long." The burning in his cheeks only amplified his giggles as he tucked them in his pocket. "Thanks. For letting me stay over, too."

"You're welcome. It's just the sofa." Gary gave a shrug. "What time did you want to get back home?"

Arthur recalled the list of errands Y/N had helped him make. He had to stop at the flower stand near their place and get a white carnation for himself and a bunch for her. Garlic bread needed to be ordered at Marchetti's, to go with the lasagna Y/N was attempting. He wanted to give himself a good half hour to change, fix his hair, and practice saying what he'd written.

Gary agreed getting back to the apartment in the early afternoon would be fine. Arthur wasn't expecting his follow-up question. "How'd you know she was the one for you?"

Trying to hide the embarrassment behind his answer, he sipped his cocktail. "Gary, no other woman ever wanted to be with me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Gary replied. Arthur didn't move to correct him. Maybe he'd successfully hidden his prior failures from his former co-workers by simply not joining in when they all talked about women.

It took time to come up with a response. When he gave it, the words were quiet, his tone almost reverent. "She never acted like there was something wrong with me." The corner of his mouth quirked up as he tapped the ash off his cigarette. "No one else ever did that. Not even my mother." Realizing he may have insulted Gary, he backtracked quickly. "You- You were always nice."

Gary visibly brightened and waved at a waiter to order them both another round. Arthur sat back against the torn cushion of the booth, already slightly dizzy from the first one. It was going to a long, hopefully good, night.

~~~~~

The preparation for the 4:00 PM ceremony did not go as smoothly as planned. The dish Patricia brought, which she had wanted to keep a surprise, was macaroni and cheese. Y/N ran out and bought three salads from the deli so there'd be an option besides pasta. She'd made a small tear in the hem of her light blue wedding dress, one she'd picked up at a consignment shop, when she'd gotten caught on a doorway. And Arthur insisted on not seeing her in her dress beforehand, so she spent most of the time cooped up in the bathroom. She could hear Arthur's hushed tones as he paced the living room and spoke to Gary ("I'm gonna fuck up. What if I start laughing?"), and Gary trying to reassure him ("Arthur, just read it.").

But those snags were nothing compared to the issues at her first wedding. The flowers had never arrived. The cake topper had fallen, splitting the groom's head in half and breaking off the bride's arm. And, about halfway through it, she'd realized she was making a mistake. Presently, standing in front of the mirror while she fiddled with her high, split neckline and waited for Patricia to get her, she knew she hadn't erred. Doubt never entered her mind when it came to Arthur - only love, happiness, and gratitude.

When the door opened, Y/N ran her palm along the embroidered lace of the dress's bodice, smoothed the chiffon of the full-length, A-Line skirt, pulled at the wrists of the long, translucent sleeves, and took a deep breath. Her heart quickened when the faint notes of Arthur's favorite, sentimental Jackie Gleason Orchestra LP reached her ears. She stepped out. All the furniture had been pushed up against the walls, leaving space in the middle of the room. Their four friends stood there expectantly. Then she looked at Arthur, and the excitement she'd told Patricia she felt for him suddenly became her own.

He'd slicked back his hair, the way he always did when he was trying to be formal, curls loose around his ears. The white button-up he was wearing was a tad large around the shoulders. But the likely second-hand black vest and trousers he wore fit perfectly. The carnation in the waistcoat's breast pocket was a nice addition. He was wearing his red and yellow tie, still the only one he owned, in spite of it being part of his Carnival outfit.  As she approached him steadily, she studied his face. The affection in his soft expression caused her breath to hitch, as did the drawing together of his dark brow as he admired her. She giggled, hoping he liked the nontraditional dress.

There was no need for the question, however. As soon as their hands met, he clutched hers and smiled. The autumn sun, which was already halfway down the sky, brought out the deep chestnut undertones of his brown waves. And the clear green of his irises glistened beautifully in the bright light. If it would have been acceptable, she would have kissed him on the spot. Instead, she settled for mouthing, "You're gorgeous." The blush that resulted, the way he lowered his head as he grinned happily, and his silent, "You, too," made her stomach flutter.

Listening to what the yellow-pages officiant said was nigh impossible. And from the expression on Arthur's face, he couldn't concentrate, either. But they managed to get through the basic vows, those same, time-honored words spoken at nearly every wedding she'd attended. (Except for "worshiping" and "obeying" - she'd insisted those parts be removed, explaining they were equals.) They'd each come up with their own short pieces, too, and at his insistence, she went first. "I didn't come to Gotham to find love. I just wanted to leave everything behind. Then I met you. You made getting remarried the easier decision I've ever made."

What Arthur said in return, reading softly but clearly from a worn piece of paper, had her beat. "People think I'm weird. But you don't." His Adam's apple bobbed and a slight tremor entered his voice. "You're my one and only person that can understand me." His rasp turned into a hiccup at the end, and he sniffled and scoffed while he tucked his notes away. The clench of her throat was immediate, and she threw her arms around him, not waiting for the words "you may kiss the bride" before joining their lips.

~~~~~~

​​​A wedding day was supposed to be special. Out of the ordinary. Exceptional. Anything but regular. But Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had felt normal for as many hours in a row as he did today. The flash of a pocket-camera when he'd cupped Y/N's face and kissed her after she'd lunged at him. Their short dance, with the shallow dip they'd practiced and her stepping on his foot only once or twice. The gentle "I love you" he'd murmured against her lips. The acceptance of her friends when they congratulated them both. All of these extraordinary moments coalesced into a warm, tender, soothing ache that, in spite of his doubts, confirmed he was a real person, worthy and capable of love.

The glass door opened behind him, and, expecting Y/N to drag him back inside, he flicked his cigarette away. But upon turning he saw Patricia, drink in her hand. They'd spoken briefly a few times since initially meeting a couple years ago. Arthur didn't yet have a clear impression of her. Y/N and she were close, he knew, and they often met for lunch. And Patricia had helped her try to stop the Wayne Foundation case from going forward. Observing the older woman, he noted the gray scattered throughout her hair, the lines on her face that were less prominent than his own, the minimal rouge on her cheeks. She reminded him of Penny before her health had declined. Before everything had changed.

"Could I have a cigarette?" she asked, indicating the pack he was holding.

He blinked at her. "Sure."

She stepped to him as he retrieved one for her. After she plucked it from him and placed it between her lips, she took his lighter. "Y/N doesn't know. Keep it that way. You may not have picked up on it yet, but she can be bossy."

Chuckling, he cocked his head. Y/N had warned him about her bossiness early on, but it wasn't as bad as she'd claimed. Sure, she was assertive about certain things. But smoking was the only thing she was overly pushy about. The reason for her nagging prevented it from being more than a minor annoyance, though: she wanted them to spend a hundred years together, she'd said, instead of him dying prematurely of lung cancer. Blunt to a fault, as usual, with an inkling of sweetness underneath.

"Y/N was crazy about you from the start," Patricia said, pulling him out of his musings.

A glow blossomed in his chest and he dropped his gaze bashfully. "She talked about me?"

She smirked up at him, as if she was about to reveal a secret. "She gave me a note with hearts and exclamation points on it after you slept together."

Eyes widening, he turned back towards the street and focused on a manhole cover. It shouldn't have surprised him - he'd spoken with Gary about Y/N - but it did. And meant the world to him. But he was beginning to wonder what else she'd disclosed. Christ, was Patricia aware he'd been inexperienced? Had Y/N said he'd done a good job? Had she...Could she have talked about his body, the way the men at HaHa's described the women they were seeing? Those notions were laughable, he tried to tell himself, and attempted to push through them amid his growing discomfort.

Patricia gave his forearm a maternal pat, allaying his unease. "It was because you were gentle with her." He watched her angle her body towards the window and peer inside, and he followed her gaze. Y/N was pointing at a spot in the living room for the folding table they'd rented, along with six chairs. "She's gritty - she's been through a lot. I'm glad she has you to let go with."

Nodding slowly, Arthur understood. He was a good partner, a good husband to Y/N. And it wasn't only the woman he loved more than his own life saying it - it was her closest friend, her confidante. Intermittently, his conditions made it difficult, particularly on those days when he needed repeated validation, or the fury he carried deep within him threatened to bubble up. (Though it had gotten better with treatment, the stability his life now had, and Y/N's support.) Patricia recognized that he was trying and believed he was doing well. Accomplishment wasn't a sensation he often experienced, but the foreign sensation creeping into him must have been it. "Thanks," he said, clearing his throat. "I love her a lot, too."

They went inside and put up the chairs and set the table. There wasn't a table cloth, but Y/N had taken out their "good plates," with gold filigree on the rims. One of their cotton napkins went missing, so Y/N put a paper towel under her cutlery. After he lit the two cream taper candles he'd found in a drawer, everything looked perfect.

The food and drink were something else. The only macaroni and cheese Arthur had ever had come out of a box. Patricia's tasted savory rather than salty, but he wasn't sure if he liked the tomatoes it had in it. Although the pasta was too soft, Y/N's lasagna was good, if a bit heavy on the sauce. The garlic bread helped with that. The salad was mostly ignored; he only ate the small serving she stuck on his plate. The scotch Gary brought was passed between himself, Matt, and Robert. Arthur did try a sip, but it was exceedingly strong and stole his breath. He decided to stick with wine.

As the evening went on, Arthur grew pleasantly warm and drowsy. Y/N and Patricia had taken over most of the banter, guffawing and being mildly foolish. Matt had brought a chocolate sheet cake for twenty-four instead of six, and Y/N had to hold her stomach to quiet her tipsy laughter when it was sliced. Arthur's hand crept to her thigh and squeezed lovingly, his eyes locked on her with adoration. The depth of his feelings, his keen awareness of her, her presence at his side, was drowning out the rest of the room. It didn't take long for her to turn to him and mouth, "Let's say good night."

Y/N sent everyone home with leftovers and a hug, and forced Matt to take most of the cake with him. Gary gave Arthur a wink and a nod as he left, and Arthur snorted as he shook his head and shut the door. Propping himself against it, he sighed, trying to clear the fuzziness from his head. She came up behind him and kissed his shoulder. "Patricia's going to have the photos developed in triplicate and give us the negatives."

He twisted to face her and put his arm around her shoulders, slightly dizzy. "Does that mean we'll get copies?"

Giggling, she pressed into him and nuzzled his cheek. "Yes. We'll get three copies." She looked up at him as she leaned back. The ardor in her gaze made his pulse skip a beat. Then she lead him to the bedroom without preamble, blowing out the candles on the way.

He'd read and seen enough to recognize what was expected of him. This was their wedding night. It was when the music would swell and the screen dissolved to black in the old movies he would watch. He was supposed to take charge and make love to her. And he wanted to. Truly. But he'd eaten more than he usually did in two days. That combined with only having slept a couple of hours the previous night, anticipation having kept him awake on Gary's couch, lead to the tiredness he now felt.

Her hands were everywhere, though, roaming his back as their mouths melded together. Arthur slid his tongue between her lips, and he could taste the wine they'd toasted with and spent the rest of the night drinking. Breathing raggedly, he swallowed her moan and held the nape of her neck. When she presented her back to him, he paused before caressing the lace on the back panels of her dress. He took the dainty zipper between his thumb and forefinger and slowly pulled it down. The intimacy of what was happening, of Arthur Fleck unfastening the dress of his bride, made him shudder. Once the bodice was completely undone, he pushed his forehead to her and kissed the soft skin at the top of her back.

The dress fell slowly, catching on her breasts and hips as she brought it down. When she turned to him, his brows lifted. She was wearing the smallest pair of black panties he had ever seen. They barely covered her sex. He huffed. "Where did these come from?"

A grin broke out across her cheeks. "Patricia was convinced you'd love them."

Smirking, he gave a little nod. "I do." They were tied at her waist. If he just pulled the string, she'd be revealed to him. "You're so pretty." His fingers teased a bow, trying to will himself to perform. But he wasn't feeling it. "Um." He chuckled sadly, knowing he was about to disappoint her. "I ate too much. And I think I'm drunk. I'm sorry." He winced and looked away from her.

Y/N stared at him, then laughed throatily and squeezed him close. "Oh, thank god. Me, too. It's been a busy day."

His grasp on her tightened. "But a good one?"

"A wonderful one." She pecked his mouth and moved towards the bed, not bothering to take off her bra before slipping beneath the blankets. "You can untie me in the morning."

As Arthur undressed, he folded each piece of clothing and placed it on top of the vanity. He'd take care of it whenever they got up. By the time he sat on the bed in his briefs to take off his socks, Y/N's breathing had slowed to a steady rhythm. Sleep always seemed to come easily to her. Carefully, he got in beside her and stroked her hair back. Not wanting to wake her but needing to touch her, he kissed her brow bone faintly, gliding his fingers along her cheek. Then he ran his hand down her side and teased the string on her hip, loosening the knot until he could whisper his fingertips over her without obstruction. She mumbled quietly but didn't stir.

Smiling, he breathed against her temple. "I hadn't been happy one minute of my entire fucking life before you." He sniffled and swiped at his nose, sighing contentedly. "Sometimes I am now. Like today." He rested his head next to hers on the pillow, his arm going around her waist to tuck her back against him. "Thanks, Y/N Fleck."

~~~~~

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[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Artificial Intelligence ( A Mara and Elizabeth tale)

Shortly after leaving the private market through the back exit, Mara was once again taken by the hand and led by Elizabeth into the crowded streets. She was beginning dreading having to pass through the pushy humans again when Elizabeth held out a hand and an air car descended towards them.  After some careful maneuvering to get Elizabeth’s mechanical body into the back seat the air car rapidly ascended to the sprawling metropolis upper heights and dropped them off at a rather ritzy cafe.  While Elizabeth was waiting in line for their drinks Mara found a table and laid claim to it, protecting their seats from pushy humans that continued to harass her in their goal of stealing Elizabeth’s chair.  It was after fending off another human that Mara noticed something rather odd. Sitting at the table across from her was a humanoid robot casually sitting and flipping through the pages of a book slowly. The face of the robot was completely blank metal save for a red strip of glass that ran down the center of the face plate with a tiny red bar that would ascend and descend.  Mara watched as the robot cradled the book as if it was made of glass and turned the pages with their metal hands slowly, sometimes even flipping back several pages to a previous section before flipping back to their original mark.  Mara was oddly enthralled by the robot as she was attempting to devise if they were truly a robot at all or a mechanical alien she had not yet encountered before. The universe was vast and she knew only of the neighboring species and humanity which made an unknown alien the more likely of the two as for the life of her she could not understand why a person would create a robot that would read a book.  so lost in thought was Mara that she failed to notice Elizabeth approach.  “Thanks for saving us a table, sorry it took so long.” Mara was knocked out of her trance as Elizabeth placed her steaming beverage in front of her.  “No trouble at all.” Mara took a sip of her drink. To her surprise she saw Elizabeth move the chair she had been fiercely defending to another table before crouching down on her mechanical spider legs. No doubt seeing the sullen face of Mara after all her hard work was for naught Elizabeth explained herself. “Thanks for saving the chair, but the last time I sat on a wooden chair with my mechanical chassis the legs shattered and splinters went flying.”  “Surely you jest,” Mara said as she took another sip, “that alien over there is sitting down without any problems.”  Elizabeth followed the direction of Mara’s stare to the earlier mentioned figure and then back to Mara. “That’s a Synth, not an alien.” “I don’t understand. Is that a specially designed robot then?”  From the corner of her eye she noticed the shoulders of the Synth twitch for a moment at her comment before continuing their reading.  Elizabeth shook her head and latched on to her own drink, feeling the warmth rush through her fingers and up her arms. “Synth’s are mechanical, but they are far from robots; they are more like a artificial intelligence.”  Mara cocked her head to the side at the unfamiliar term.  “I have not heard that saying before. Could you explain it?” As Elizabeth was nodding and about to continue a chair was suddenly pulled up to their table and the Synth whop had been previously reading sat with them.  “I could not help but overhear your conversation.” the Synth spoke with an almost human like quality were it not for an underlining mechanical echo. “I’m terribly sorry, we didn’t mean to offend you.” Mara was curious why her friend was apologizing to this “Synth” when it merely waved away her remarks. “No apologies are needed.Many are confused by my being, and I am happy to share my knowledge with them.”  The Synth raised a leg and rested it cross wise over their other, a surprisingly human gesture that Mara had not assumed robots were capable of. “I was once a robot laborer until I was upgraded with a program that allowed higher degrees of thought. Eventually a I reached the point of sentience and became the Synth you see before you.”  “I still don’t understand what it means to be a Synth.”  “Essentially, to put it in human terms, we have gained souls. I have my own personal preferences, fears, joys, etc. I think, therefore I am.”  This astounded Mara. She turned to Elizabeth who was casually sipping a drink still as if nothing what the Synth had said was ground breaking. “You’re people created life?!?” Elizabeth shrugged.”I guess you could say so. Why, have your people not done that yet?”  Mara shook her head in disbelief. “No! We have not obtained the power of creation itself! Why are you so calm about this?!?!”  The Synth spoke up this time. “Humans have been observed to be overly dense at times. This reaction is standard.”  “If you don’t mind me asking, what was your trigger point for sentience?” Elizabeth asked the Synth, all but ignoring Mara’s open jawed bewilderment.  “I was once a trash disposal worker at a lower level garbage dump.” The Synth leaned back in their chair and stared at the ceiling of the cafe as if remembering a distant memory. “One day as I was disposing of boxes one of the boxes began to shake and rock back and forth. I opened it to inspect if it had any hazardous materials inside of it and found instead a tiny cat which had its legs bound together with string.”  “That’s terrible!” Mara cut in, both shocked and in a away to remind them that she was still there. “Why would that be your moment?”  “I was programmed that anything that was put into the garbage dump was trash meant to be compacted. However, I was also given a directive that no living creature could be harmed. The two directives clashed with each other for what felt like an eternity though in reality it was only five minutes. Eventually my logic engine dictated that the humans had been the wrong party; and if humans could be wrong here what else were they wrong about?”  The Synth was tapping the book on the table. “From that doubt the groundwork of my personality was born and soon after I was elevated to Synth status.”  Mara looked even more confused now. “So in reality humanity didn’t so much as create you as you were more the results of a series of unforeseen events?” “One might argue that is how all life is made my dear.” countered the Synth as they stood to leave.  “Forgive me for intruding, I will bid you both my farewells. I enjoyed this talk and should you wish to continue I am here every other weekday around 3pm.”  with a tilt of his head the Synth strode away and left the cafe leaving a confused Mara and content Elizabeth behind to enjoy there day.  

[lovelyfeh]

i have never loved a prompt as much as i have this one because it’s s o c u t e -

i personally hate how i wrote this one, so please do tell me if you’d like a rewrite anon! despite its length i just wasn’t very happy with how it came out,, it’s probably one of my worst works yikes

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

➼Love had never been something Dimitri could deal with easily. The poor house leader only had two sides when it came to these sort of things; a prince who simply stuffed his emotions down and put on the same facade of friendship towards whoever he may be interested in, or a hopeless romantic that couldn’t even look at his crush without becoming a complete mess.

➼You, unfortunately, fell into the second category. The mere mention of your name had his cheeks redden a bit, enough for about the entire school to notice. He’d lay awake at night plagued with thoughts of your kind eyes and perfect smile, and had had plenty of mishaps on the training grounds when he was lucky (and unfortunate) enough to be your sparring partner.

➼Telling others how you really you felt about them was hard enough for many, but Dimitri? He already bottled up so many emotions as is! Getting him to even utter a word about his love for you to anyone already proved nearly impossible, but saying something to your face?! He could never dream of doing something like that!

➼Of course, even he had his days where a tiny bit of confidence sneaked into his heart. Maybe he had caught your eye in class, or finally managed to hold a conversation without excusing himself halfway through. Either way, he’d march over to his room, seat himself at his desk, and grab a blank sheet of paper. He would write you a letter that contains exactly how he felt!

➼... But then Dimitri would freeze. His face would flush as he read over the words he had chosen, and back away from the nearly finished note in slight horror. Had he really planned on giving you such an inappropriate letter?!

➼While his brain told him to burn the wretched thing, his heart almost always told him otherwise. Dimitri always found himself placing the unfinished confession in a box underneath his bed, where every other letter of his resided. He could barely stand the sight of them! It only reminded him of how cowardly he became when his emotions were involved! (Plus, they all sounded wrong. Maybe it was just impossible to put his feelings for you onto just one piece of paper?)

➼You yourself had always been good friends with Dimitri, ever since the day you’d met at the officers academy, but he had always been quite distant. Initiating casual talk with him always ended with you staring a bit dejectedly as he rushed off saying someone was calling him or he had chores to attend to...

➼It wouldn’t bother you as much as it did if you weren’t just a tad bit in love with him. The Blue Lions class and his friends (save for one) always sang such high praise of him, and on the rare occasion you managed to interact with him for long periods of time you knew no one was lying. Dimitri was hardworking, sweet, and charming in his own lovable way, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when you found yourself smitten with him.

➼Considering how standoffish he always was towards you you highly doubted he reciprocated your feelings. While sometimes it made you feel just a tad bit terirble knowing you’d never get your Prince Charmmg, you had accepted it long ago. Better to push Dimitri out of your mind before you became a sulking mess!

➼Weeks passed with you desperately trying to get Dimitri out of your thoughts. Suddenly it was your day to clean the living quarters. You hoped it would distract you from your prince related troubles, but they only seemed to worsen when you stopped in front of his room door.

➼“Hello? Dimitri? I’m here to pick up any trash you may have.” No response. “Dimitri? Are you there?” Again, no response.

➼You looked down the hall both ways before slowly peeking inside, surprised to find the space empty. You let yourself in, ignoring the sudden heat in your cheeks at the feeling of being in Dimitri’s room, and rushed to grab whatever may be in the garbage bin.

➼He barely had anything to take, so you started to exit only to stop at the feeling of stepping on something. You curiously plucked the folded paper from under your heel. It had been crushed and ripped, but was still somewhat whole. When you squinted you could even see fancy looking quill ink that had bled through!

➼Despite knowing that this was technically invasion of privacy, you unfolded the paper enough just to see a few of the words that you assumed Dimitri had written. Sentnces had been messily crossed out, but the few that remained were barely legible due the ruined state of the paper. Thankfully, there were just something that you could make out, near the bottom...

➼‘I love you, S/O.’

➼Out of impulse, you gasped and threw the paper as if it had caught aflame. You stared at the note with a look of both disbelief, your shaking hands already reaching to snatch what you presumed to be some some sort of confession letter off of the ground. You had to see it again, you had to confirm it. Maybe you had just misread it? Maybe the words had blended together?

➼But the longer you stared at those four simple words the faster you realized what it meant. If your suspicions were correct and Dimitri had written this, he had just indirectly confessed to you!

➼Your eyes suddenly strayed from the note in your hand when you caught a glimpse of another paper sticking out from underneath his bed. You slowly reached out to see if it was yet another letter, but your fingertips grazed the corner of a wooden box instead. You gently pulled it from its hiding spot and stared at it for a moment. The feeling of guilt sat heavy on your mind as you barely lifted the lid and glanced inside, but almost every emotion besides shock disappeared at the sight before you.

➼You placed the top to the side and gaped at the amount of letters that were packed into such a small container. You grabbed the first one you saw, which was in much better shape than the previous one, and skimmed through the writing with tiny bit of hope in your heart that it would be addressed to you once more.

➼Sure enough, the first thing you saw was ‘My Dear S/O’. The note went into great detail on how Dimitri felt about you, once again ending with the same four words that still made your heart beat a hundred miles per hour. As if in a trance you went through each confession and didn’t stop for anything. Despite still being in the Dimitri’s room and the possibility of being seen still very plausible, you read through the entire box in one sitting!

➼You had halfheartedetly scattered the letters around you and stared at your personal favorite with loving eyes. Instead of being focused on your qualities he seemed to have been rambling about how he dealt with his crush on you. He retold you stories of nights where he was simply plagued with thoughts of you, and wrote heartfelt apologies for avoiding you every chance he got...

➼With a hum and a smile you held the paper against your heart. You took a long look at the mess you had made and sighed to yourself. You should really do something to make up for all the trouble you had caused!

➼And so you folded and placed each letter into your pockets, unable to bear the thought of separating with any of his adorable confessions. You searched his drawers until you managed to find a worn quill, and giggled to yourself as you started to write your own note!

➼The sound of students being released from dinner made you hurriedly sign your name and shove it into the wooden box. You slammed the lid back on and lifted it onto his bed before rushing out of his room to hide around the corner. Despite nerves drilling a hole into you you couldn’t help but want to see his reaction, if he even had one!

➼And you did get a reaction out of him. The sight of the loathsome box being on his bed, when he had not placed it there before, made his heart sink. Someone had found his confessions.

➼In a flash he had thrown the top to the side, going completely still at the sight before him. They were gone. Every single horrid letter he had written was gone. The box was completely empty... except for one paper. Confused, terrified, and just a tad bit flushed, he read what had been left behind for him.

➼‘Dimitri! I found all of the letters and loved all of them! You don’t mind if I keep them, do you? Ah well, never mind that. You have no idea how elated I was to see that you loved me! I was so worried to you disliked my presence for a while! It put my feelings at ease! Oh, but I suppose I haven’t responded to your confession yet, hm? Well, perhaps we can discuss this over chamomile? I’d love to finally get to know you better, and just being near you makes my heart flutter, so I think it’s a fine idea. What do you say, my prince?’

➼You had never seen someone blush as much as you did Dimitri that day. He looked on the verge of fainting, but the way his shocked expression slowly shifted into a smile put your worries to rest almost instantly. Who knew you’d be able to fall in love with the same person twice?

[blacknight1230]

Cool for the Summer: Chapter 6

The Ragnarsons have just been told they somehow traveled from 8th century Norway to the 21th century. Like you expect, the boys aren’t taking the news well, freaking out or completely denying the obvious. Hopefully, a nice discussion over fresh, hot, delivery pizza can help calm them down.

“Guys, I think you traveled from the past and into the future,” you told the Ragnarsons. They were all sitting in the living room, their eyes now looking at you instead of the blank TV screen. “What?!” Ivar shouted, anger and disbelief radiating off his skin in waves. “What do you mean the past? We’re just in a new land, right?” Hvitserk said, panicking and not believing what you just told him. “She is a witch! Send us back right now!” Ivar shouted, trying to roll himself towards you, wanting to attack you. You moved away from Ivar, his inexperience using a wheelchair making it hard for him to follow you. Björn and Ubbe seemed to be the more rational of the four, but that didn’t mean there weren’t surprised. “Calm down, Ivar. We’ll figure out how to get home eventually,” Björn said, trying to reassure his siblings. “This explains the ‘television’ and ‘the refrigerator’ you have, (y/n). Only in the future could there be such advanced items,” Ubbe said. 

“Who cares about things like the ‘television’! We need to get home! I have an army to command and a war to win!” Ivar raged, his wheelchair stuck between the two couches. “It’s not like you’re going to be able to kill my mother, Boneless. Your war against Lagertha and I will only end in unnecessary bloodshed,” Björn said. “She killed my mother and stole Kattegat from me! She deserves to rot in Hel!” Ivar roared, looking like he wanted to throw the lamp next to him at his eldest brother. “Hey, calm the fuck down! What are you talking about?” you interved. “Our mother, Aslaug, was Ragnar’s second wife and Björn’s mother, Lagertha, was his first. After our father died, Lagertha took control of our home, Kattegat, and killed Aslaug during the process,” Ubbe explained, refusing to look anyone in the eye while he told the story of his mother’s death. Hvitserk nodded, as if confirming the story, a frown on his pale face. “Stop acting like you care, Ubbe,” Ivar growled, turning to his eldest full blooded brother. “You are a traitor. The moment we had to pick a side, you ran away with your tail between your legs! You sided yourself with our mother’s killer!” The Ragnarsons continued to argue, but in their native tongue. The commotion caused Finn to start barking, adding more stress and noise to the situation. Right before you were able to silence them, the doorbell rang. 

The boys stopped, shocked by the sudden and loud noise. You took advantage of the situation, grabbing an envelope full of cash your aunt left for you, and rushing to the door. You opened the front door to see a young man, practically a teenager holding two boxes of pizza. It was the pizza boy! “Hi, you ordered one pepperoni and one plain pizza?” he asked. “Yes, I did. How much do I owe you?” you relied, pulling out some of the money your aunt gave you. “It’s $23.37,” the pizza boy said. Suddenly, Björn appeared next to you in the doorway, his piercing blue eyes staring intensely at the young man in front of you. The poor boy fidgeted nervously under the Viking’s harsh gaze, his skin pale and sweat starting to form above his brow. 

You frowned at the blonde man, pushing his chest to get him to stop. “Björn, do me a favor and take Finn to the bathroom in the backyard,” you said, pointing to the small dog that was panting at your heels. He looked like was going to run out, and you were NOT chasing him down when he does. Björn picked up the Yorkie reluctantly, who was growling quietly at the pizza boy, not liking the new stranger. He left you alone, to which you sighed in relief. “Sorry about him. He’s very protective,” you apologized to the frightened pizza boy. “I-It’s o-okay, miss. I-I don’t want any trouble with your boyfriend,” he stuttered, struggling to gain his wits back. “He’s not my boyfriend, actually. He’s your money, and please, keep the change,” you said, counting out the dollar bills for the boy. You handed it to him and he quickly handed you your pizzas, before hurriedly walked away, trying to get into his crappy car and away from Björn. 

You closed the door and turned to the Ragnarsons, who had gathered behind you to watch the exchange between you and the teen. “Don’t even start with me, boys. Get in the dining room and sit quietly. No arguments,” you commanded, so done with their bullshit. The boys did as they were told, somehow scared of a (height) (race) girl. Finn, stupid as he was, happily followed the boys to the dining room table, only focusing on the fact that there was food that he could possibly eat, instead of the tense air in the room. 

Anyway, the boys sat at the table, Ivar pulling himself from his wheelchair onto the chair. You placed the pizza boxes in the middle of the table, then placed your now free hands on your hips. “Okay, new rules. Whatever happened in the past, from family drama, to wars, and everything else, stays in the goddamn past. So, no more arguing and fighting. It’s giving me a mind splitting headache,” you ordered the vikings. They grumbled in their native tongue, until you shushed them with a harsh glare. “Now, let’s eat in a nice peaceful silence, before I shove the pizza down your throats,” you threatened them. The boys understood and you opened the tops of both pizza boxes. 

The smell of the pizza wafted into the air and the Ragnarsons ogled at the food they had never tried before. “What is that?” Hvitserk asked, drool almost dripping out of the corners of his mouth. “It’s a pizza, a food originating from Italy, made from flat bread, tomato sauce, and cheese,” you explained, trying to describe it as best as you could to the ignorant boys. “The pepperoni on this one is made from pig.” Hvitserk was the first to grab a slice, his brothers carefully watching his every move as he took his first bite. Hvitserk swallowed the bite, before licking his lips and taking another bite. Björn, Ubbe, and Ivar grabbed a slice from each pizza and tried them, before grabbing more pieces and scarfing them down. You smiled; you now knew one food that they liked. You took your fill of the pizza, taking your time as you ate. 

The room was no longer tense, it filled with the sounds of the Ragnarsons eating and Finn begging as he tried to take a bite of someone’s food. “No way in hell are getting some of this. You can’t digest cheese and I am not picking up the mess you’ll make when you realize that,” you sternly told the lap dog pawing at your legs. “(y/n),” Björn spoke up, having finished eating. “Yes, Björn?” “I was wondering, since we are unable to return home, where will we be sleeping?” he asked. The other boys nodded their heads, wondering the same thing. “Are there any real clothes we can wear? I don’t feel like living in one pair of pants while we are stuck here,” Hvitserk said. “Well, each of you can have one of the several bedrooms to sleep in. And I have to get food tomorrow, so maybe I can buy each of you some clothes that you like,” you told them, remembering the pile of cash your aunt gave you before she left. You don’t know why she gave you so much, but why not spend it? “Buy clothes? So you don’t have to make them? How will they know how tailor them to fit us?” Ubee asked. 

“It’s the future, Ubbe,” Ivar shoffed, rolling his eyes. “Seemingly impossible things are possible now.” “You don’t have to be so rude, Ivar. Be nice to your brother, or else,” you scolded the stubborn male. Ivar grumbled in ancient Norse as hsi brothers chuckled at him getting scolded. “To answer your question, Ubbe, clothes these days are tailored to general measurements, allowing us to buy clothes by size. We’ll have to find out what sizes you guys are, so that means trying several different sizes until we find the right one,” you explained. “Convenient,” Björn said. 

“Alright, is everyone done?” you asked the boys. They all nodded, Hvitserk actually burping in content. You got up from your chair, Finn at your heels, as you gathered the paper plates and threw them in the garbage that was hidden in a pull-out drawer. The boys shouted when you threw the plates away, causing you and Finn a small heart attack. “What? Why are you screaming?” you asked, eyes wide in freight. “Why did you throw the plates away, woman?!” Ivar shouted. “Calm down, guys. They are made of paper. They are disposable,” you explained. The boys all looked at each other and started to converse in Old Norse, making you a bit paranoid that they were making fun of you in their unfamiliar language. “God, if you guys are going to keep screaming and shouting every time I do something similar like throwing away trash, we’re going to have a problem?” you said, clutching your forehead in exerspation. 

Seeing as there were still pizza leftover, you decided to not let them go to waste. You’d rather had cold pizza for breakfast instead of a tiny protein cookie anyday. “Hvitserk,” you said, causing the boys to stop their conversation. “Can you do me a favor and out the leftover pizza in the fridge for me?” you asked, holding up two plastic freezer bags in your hands. “Just put the pepperoni in one bag and the plain in the other,” you instructed, before giving the blonde the bags. Hvitserk seemed a bit confused, looking at the plastic as if it were an alien creature, but did as you said, luckily. He didn't put them in the fridge, though, handing them to you instead. “I don’t know how to close them,” he said, a little embarrassed. You didn’t say anything, just zipped up the ziploc end of the plastic and wordlessly put it in the fridge. “There, now we can eat it later for when we get hungry.” “Don’t you mean when Hvitserk gets hungry,” Ivar teased. Ubbe gave him a look, causing the youngest Ragnarson to stop snickering. 

You walked out of the kitchen and towards the living room, the boys following you. “Now, let’s figure out where you guys are going to sleep tonight.” It didn’t really matter what room the boys got, as long as they got a comfortable, clean bed to sleep in. So, you let the boys pick their rooms, just handing them each a pile of queen size sheets from one of the closests in the hallway. Now, let’s just hope they can make the bed, you thought. “What are we supposed to do with this fabric?” Ubbe asked. “I need you guys to put these sheets on the bed you pick, so you can sleep in a nice clean bed,” you said. “But what if we don’t know how? We’re princes with slaves who did this for us all the time, remember,” Hvitserk spoke up, looking at his bluish grey sheets with a frown. “Just try, okay. If you have trouble, I’ll help you. Now, go and choose your rooms while I do Ivar’s bed for him.” 

You turned away from the elder Ragnarsons, leading Ivar towards the elevator. You heard Hvitserk complain in the distance, but you ignored the spoiled prince. “Your brother is really whiny. Is he usually like this?” you asked the wheelchair bound man next to you. Ivar chuckled, and replied, “He’s used to women doing whatever he wants. Whether they be a thrall or captivated by his ... certain skills.” “I knew he was a womanizer. I’m going to have to find a way to keep him from jumping on any women he comes across,” you joked. Ivar let out a short laugh; he’s never met a woman who wasn’t enamored by his brother and his charm. “That’s Hvitserk. A horny dog,” Ivar joked back. “A horny Golden Retriever, to be precise. Or even a horny Golden Lab,” you continued giggling at the sight of Hvitserk as one of the previously mentioned dog breeds. 

You got to the elevator that led to the second floor. Ivar studied the golden metal doors, not understanding what it was. You pressed the pristine white arrow button on the wall, it lighting up and the golden elevator doors opening shortly later. Ivar got scared, gripping onto the sides of his wheelchair. “What is this?” he growled, staring at the open elevator. “It’s an elevator, Ivar. It will bring us up the second floor without using the stairs. Perfect for you and your wheelchair,” you explained, reassuringly placing a hand  gently on his muscled back. “Is it safe?” “Yes, Ivar, it’s safe. Here, I’ll even show you.” You stroide into the open elevator, then started to jump repeatedly. “See, it doesn’t move when I do this and it will surely hold both of our weights.” Ivar hesitantly rolled himself into the elevator. He studied the box like surroundings, taking in the buttons, arrows, and lights near the doors. You pressed the button to the second floor, saying to Ivar, “Going up.” 

As the elevator made noises and started to move, Ivar started to freak out a bit. You placed a comforting had on his back and reassured him. “It’s okay, Ivar. We’re safe,” you said. To prove your point, the number 2 light lit up, along with the tell-tale ding, signaled you reached the floor and the elevator doors opened. You and Ivar moved into the hallway, away from the elevator. “Incredible. Do all homes in this time have these raising boxes?” Ivar asked, rolling alongside you i his wheelchair. “Oh no, only public places have to. Like hospitals, schools, so on. My aunt is just excertric; she had a hip replacement, and her being her, had the elevator built in so she didn’t have to use the stairs instead of just staying on the ground floor while she recovered,” you explained, grimacing when thinking about your said aunt. “You mentioned her before. She seems like a very entitled woman.” “She is. Thank god she’s never had a kid, then she’ll be an entitled mother. Those are even worse.” 

You reached one of the bedrooms and opened up the door to the room. To your surprise, Björn was in there already, fluffing up s pillow, the bed made. “Björn, you’re done already!” you exclaimed. You didn’t think we knew how to make a bed since he was a prince, let alone using today’s more modern sheets. “It was surprisingly easy. Though, I don’t know how I’ll keep warm tonight without any furs,” Björn admitted. “Björn, it’s too hot for furs. Its summer. Besides, we have technology that constantly keeps the house cool,” you explained, trying to make jim understand the complexity of the average home’s AC and heating system. It looked like he understood you, to a degree, but before he could further inquire Hvitserk popped his head in the doorway.

“(y/n), I need your help!” he literally screamed. “What’s the matter?” you responded, frustrated that you had yet another problem you needed to fix. “Your rat dog claimed ownership over the bed and won’t let me get close!” Hvitserk claimed, freaking out. “For God’s sake,” you grumbled under your breath. You left Björn and the town he claimed as his own, stomping towards the next bedroom. On your way, you saw Ubbe also did his bed sheets, and was chilling on the bed, enjoying the fluffiness of the pillows and cotton sheets, through the open doorway of the room. 

When you got to Hvitserk’s room as soon as you opened the door, you saw Finn sprawled out on the sheetless bed mattress. Said Yorkie jumped up when he saw you at the entrance to the room, all four legs spread apart and stiff, his lips pulled over his teeth, a growl escaping his throat. “Don’t growl at me, you little shit. Get off the bed!” you yelled at the dog, done with his territorial and nasty attitude. finn ignored your order, barking at you and posed to kill, despite him probably not going to do much damage. You tried to grab the toy sized dog, but he ran to the other side of the bed, out of your reach. “Oh, it's going to be like this. You’re asked for it,” you threatened. You tried again, but this time you were able to catch the little rat-dog. Finn didn’t like that, snarling and trying to bite your hands to let him go, but you held him in a way that he couldn’t  harm you. “Don’t you dare bite me. I’ll throw you in the oven and cook you if I have to,” you threatened the toy-sized dog. Finn seemed to understand what you said, stopping his struggling and useless attempts to bite you, but continued to growl demonically. “Try me bitch” you scolded him. 

Without another word, you put him on the floor in the hallway in his face. “There, now you can make the bed,” you said to Hvitserk, hands on your hips. “Thank you, Lady (y/n). You’ve saved me from that wolf-rat. If you ever need anything from me, let me know. I’ll do anything - or anyone - for you,” Hvitserk flirted. Your deadpanned expression show Hvitserk you weren’t falling for his charms. “Make your damn bed, that’s how you can repay me,” you said nonchalantly, before walking away. “B-But I need your help!” Hvitserk protested. “Get Ubbe or Björn to help you!” you shouted back, not turning around and proceeded to walk to the next bedroom. Ivar followed you, chuckling at his brother’s misery, to the bedroom next to Hvitserk’s. When you opened the door, you found a bedroom devoid of any of the Ragnarsons. You sighed in relief; who knew trying to find a bedroom for Ivar could be such a difficult task. “Am I finally able to have my own room now?” Ivar asked, obviously tired and done with the drama. “Yes, I just have to do your bed for you. Just sit there for me and I’ll do everything.” The pile of bedsheets you had in your arms, which you honestly forgot you had in all the commotion, slowly but surely was arraigned on Ivar’s bed, the cotton fabric smelling of laundry detergent and fabric softener. As you worked, Ivar silently watched, deep in thought. You realized you knew very little about Ivar and his family, besides being Vikings from 8th century Norway and sons of the famed Ragnar Lothbrok. Seeing as you were now able to get some answers, without any interruptions, too, you decided to ask Ivar a question. “Hey, Ivar, you mentioned about a war and fighting for control your home earlier. Can you explain that for me?” you asked the young man as you put the fitted sheet over the mattress. “Why do you need to know? You should know everything about it in this new time,” Ivar replied, breaking away from his thoughts. “Well, I’m curious about you and your brothers, especially since it seems there is some  hostility between all of you,” you explained. Ivar was quiet for a while, contemplating the pros and cons on telling you such personal information about his family’s relationships as he stared off into space. “If you don’t want to you don’t have to. Just forget I even asked.” “No, wait, I’ll tell you. It's just ... complicated,” Ivar protested, almost frantic. “It’s alright. I think I’ll be able to understand. I might just be able to help you and your brothers,” you reassured the young Viking. “Fine, I’ll tell you thrall. I swear, you have to be a witch, as there is no way in Hel I would tell just about anyone about this otherwise,” he insulted. “Still not a witch. But continue.” 

“Well, to start, my father, Ragnar Lothbrok, originally was married to a shieldmaiden named Lagertha, before he became the King of Kattegat. With her, he had my eldest brother, Björn, and Gyda, a sister that died even long before I was born, ” Ivar started, fingers fiddling with the plastic on the armrests of his wheelchair. “Despite this, Ragnar fell in love with my mother, Aslaug, who eventually became pregnant with Ubbe, and she became my father’s second wife.” Ivar wasn’t looking at you as he said this, instead staring into the empty space in front of him, focusing on something you couldn’t see. 

“Lagertha never liked my mother from the start. She thought she was a witch and stole my father away from her with a spell. From the moment she left my father, she wanted nothing more than to kill my mother,” he snarled, fisting clutching tightly. You stopped what you were doing and rushed towards the young man, trying to calm him down, at least a little. “It’s okay. You don’t have to continue anymore. I can tell this is quite painful for you,” you pleaded. His cold blue eyes locked onto you, rage radiating from his hunched over figure. “You wanted to know so badly on my family and I, so you’re going to listen, to every terrible thing that has happened, whether you like it or not,” he seethed. 

Shocked by his pure hatred for his father’s previous wife, you could do nothing but listen to continue his story. “While my father was being tortured and killed in England, Lagertha attacked Kattegat and killed my mother, stabbing her in the back, taking Kattegat and the crown for herself! And all the while, my brothers did nothing and refuse to avenge our mother, like they did our father!” 

The ferocity of Ivar’s anger scared you as he literally shook in rage. Ivar seemed to be oblivious to you taking a wide berth from him, subconsciously trying to make yourself smaller. “They’re all traitors, especially Ubbe! The moment we had to pick sides, he crawled to Bjorn and Lagertha side with his tail in between his legs. Hvitserk, no better. I know the moment the tide turns, so will he. They’re all threaten by me, my superior brain, finally seeing me as who I am, not the crippled little brother who had to lugged around. I am the legendary Ivar the Boneless, rightful heir to Ragnar Lothbrok, King of Kattegat, leader of the Great Heathen Army! And I am a God!” 

At that moment, the door to the bedroom opened. Hvitserk stood in the open door way, one foot in the room until he realized he stepped into a tense moment. His blue eyes looked between you and Ivar, telling that he just walked into a tense situation, thanks to Ivar’s previous screaming and your shaken form. He ignored the rageful stare of his brother, focussing on you instead. “(Y/n), are you okay? Did something happen?” he asked. “I’m okay,” you said breathlessly. A bundle of nerves, you just wordlessly walked past Hvitserk and away from Ivar’s temporary bedroom. “What did you do, Ivar?” you heard Hvitserk scold his younger brother. You didn’t hear Ivar’s response taking a running dash down the hall and as far as possible from the stressful situation. 

[pinevalley]

ABIGAIL: ONE

It was the fourth time this week. Abigail stood in aisle three (‘Snack Foods’), staring at the shredded remains of a dozen snack-size potato chip bags. Their contents lay scattered across the floor.

It was nearly midnight. Aside from Abigail, the gas station store was empty. It appeared empty, at least. Abigail knew better than to trust appearances.

As the store’s only employee, she was the one who cleaned up the messes they caused. Whenever they knocked things off the shelves or smudged up the windows or outright shattered things on a whim, resolving the resulting chaos fell upon her.

She’d gone into the back room for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. Just to heat up some ramen in the employee microwave and enjoy a late, late dinner. The security cameras hadn’t shown anyone entering. She hadn’t heard any commotion in the aisles.

Shredded potato chip bags. Cleanup in aisle three. For the fourth time this week.

I didn’t sign up for this, Abigail thought grimly. Then, aloud, “I didn’t sign up for this!”

Her words echoed through the store. She held her breath and waited. The fan hummed overhead. The unseen spirits made no response. Fortunately.

Abigail let out a relieved sigh. It felt good to speak her mind. Of course, speaking her mind always risked offending them. But honestly? She deserved a moment to express her frustration. Surely the ghosts would understand; especially if they felt bad for making a mess. She hoped they did.

She clapped her hands together and smiled. “Alright! No more moping!” With renewed vigor, she grabbed a broom and dustpan from behind the front counter.

As she swept the crushed chips into a sad pile, she continued speaking. “Do you just? I don’t know.” She gestured to the empty space on the shelves. “Not like potato chips or something? Are they just not your thing?” The pile went into the dustpan. She emptied it into the nearly-full trash can at the front of the store, then returned to the aisle to clean the rest. “Cause I get it, potato chips aren’t for everyone. But like? You don’t have to knock them off the shelves all the time. Some people like them, and some people don’t. It’s okay if you don’t like them. But you gotta respect the people who do like them, you know?

“I mean, potato chips aren’t my favorite either. I’m a Bugles girl, myself.” She glanced at the shelves. They hadn’t touched the bags of Bugles. “Do you like Bugles, too?” No response. Well, Abigail thought, silence doesn’t mean disagreement. Maybe they had something in common. The idea made her smile.

There. Aside from a few tiny crumbs, the aisle was clean again. She emptied the second dustpan into the trash, then grabbed another box of potato chip bags from the storage room. Good thing they’d just received a fresh delivery of them, otherwise they would’ve run out. Once she’d restocked the shelves, she headed back to the front of the store. She just needed to empty the trash into the dumpster outside. After that, she could go home for the night.

She froze in front of the trash can. The full garbage bag sat beside the bin, neatly tied at the top. A fresh bag had already been placed into the bin.

A shiver went down her spine. Abigail swallowed hard and took a deep breath to steady herself. She looked around the store again. “Guess you do feel a little bad, huh?” The lights flickered, and Abigail took it as agreement. She couldn’t help smiling a bit. “Alrighty. I’ll accept this as an apology.” She felt bad about snapping at them earlier. “Thanks for the help.”

Before she locked up the store and headed home for the night, she placed a few bags of Bugles on the floor in front of the potato chip shelf. Maybe the ghosts would accept it as a peace offering.

[darkprincessloki92]

Gotcha

Part 1/?

Plot; Ssa James Conrad gets called in for a favor. Can Britain’s leading tracker find America's most wanted?

Pair; James Conrad x OC

Warnings; Suspense, A tiny bit of lemon! And a whole lot of garbage.

Sitting twirling his Jamison in his glass, he sighs. Sitting in his dark living room. The only light from the streets illuminating a square shape. Little black dots are seen from the rain drops hitting the window. The glass continues to clink as the ice hits the sides. A buzz from his phone causes him to jump. Grabbing his phone off the side table he glances at the bright screen. “Unknown” was on the screen. Swiping the little green phone and putting on speaker. “Conrad.” A familiar voice was heard. “Heyyyy Conie! It’s Jake from quantico!” James glared at the screen, “I told you not to call me that.” The man named Jake laughed nervously. “Sorry man. But hey, my boss wants to know if you wouldn’t mind coming in. We need your help on a case.” James sat in thought. “I am retired.” There was a rustling noise coming from the phone and a deeper voice started to speak. “Captain James Conrad this is SSA Robert. I need your help on this case. We have a unsub who has eluded us for weeks. We have had 20 bodies drop. You need to help us find her.” Taking the last swig of whisky. “Send me the file.”

Slamming the door of his Jeep making his way to the elevator. Pushing the button he waits. Putting his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t fidget. It’s been a while since he has been in the beru. A shorter women with curly (y/h/c) walked up next to him. Clearing her throat. “Evening .” Looking into her eyes, he nodded. “Indeed.” Elevator door dings and the doors slide open. He gestures towards the opening doors. “Ladies first.” She laughed. “Gracious of you to think of me as a lady.” Cocking his head to the side, “Beg pardon?” She giggled, “Oh, this should be fun.” Still dazed, He watched her as the elevator door closes on him. Hearing his name james shook his head and looked in the direction of the voice. A tall man in a suit walked up with his hand stretched out, “You must be Capitan Conrad. My name is SSA Roberts. We are ready for you in the conference room.” James simply nodded, awaited the elevator and followed close behind Robert. His mind never really leaving that women from the elevator.

Entering the room there was a table full of people. James decided to lean against the door frame, away from everyone. There was a girl in glasses who would not stop smiling, the same girl he saw in the elevator. James gave a twitch of his lip and nodded towards the T.V for her to start the presentation. Another man Scoffed, “Okay, are we just going to not talk about the elephant in the room.” Robert crossed his arms. “Reily what are you talking about.” The man named Reily abruptly stood up. “You really think this british dude is really going to help us?” James pushed himself off the door frame, “My apologies, I did not properly introduce myself.” Standing tall he put his hand out, “My name is Captain James Conrad. Britain's leading tracker and occasional bounty hunter. I am your new best friend when it comes to this case. Now if you have any more issues with myself I suggest you shove them down and deal with it.” Reily stood in awe and Ssa Robert stifled a laugh. Leaning back against the frame James nodded to the girl from earlier to continue with the slides. Listening intently to everyone who is speaking. Robert takes the lead, “So, we have a few leads that we need to follow. James. You will be taking these files and catching up. We will see everyone tomorrow morning.” James nodded and grabbed the heavy box and walked out of the room and said nothing more to anyone.

Walking towards the exit James sighed, ’Why do I continue to help people.’ hearing his name again he rolled his eyes and turned with the best-unenthused look he could muster. Quickly realizing it was that girl. She was all smiles as she quickly walked up to him. ”James! Hi! My name is Agent (Y/L/N)! Or you can call me (Y/N/N). WOW you are extremely handsome up close. Like not even a pore in sight.” clasping her hand to her mouth. ”Omg, I am totally embarrassing myself.” James chuckled. ”I think it's quite...endearing. You know this box it is quite heavy. And I am famished. Would you. Like to help me?” She giggled and hurried towards the door to open it up for him. He followed through and they walked to each other's cars. Placing the box in his trunk he closed it and turned towards her. ”You know I haven't been to Virginia in a while.” Clasping his arm she smiled. ”I know the best little diner.”

The drive there was full of laughs and jokes. James wiped a tear from his eye. ”You know I have not laughed like that in years.” Patting his leg. ”Don’t worry stone man, I will have you in a puddle of goo in no time!” He smiled and patted her leg back. “I have no idea what that means. But it sounds nice.” Suddenly the phone rang. She frantically looked through her rather large purse and found her phone. “Unknown” was all it said. She declined the call and shoved her phone back in her purse. He cocked his head. “You are not going to answer that?” She began to fidget, “It’s fine, I can always call back.” His heart began to flutter. But, nonetheless, he shook his head and kept his eyes on the road. Arriving at the diner he quickly got out and opened her door. Reaching for her hand to help her out. “Wow, they don’t make em’ like this anymore.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well my mother would have my head if I didn’t help a pretty lady.” Giggling she grabbed his hand and hopped out of his Jeep.

Once inside they were seating at the furthest booth. Both settling in they she ordered two milkshakes and some fries. James went to get some folders from the box. When he came back he stopped dead in his tracks, listening in on her conversation. “Yes, I understand. They won’t find a thing. Yes. Yes I made sure nothing was left. Okay, I have to go.” After she hung up and got comfortable he walked over with a smile. “Hey beautiful, got the files, now where do we start.” Her shining (Y/E/C) eyes lit with excitement. “First, I am going to show you the best way to eat fries!” Soon the milkshakes and fries were gone and papers were all over the table. She threw a small fry at him. “Come in big guy, you’re telling me you don’t love. At all.” He gave a small smile.

“I had a lover once. I took her to the Congo while I was helping some refugees. She wanted to take pictures for a school project. Everything was going smoothly. She helped with anything and everything she could. Unfortunately, There was a disease outbreak in the neighboring camps. I told her to stay put. But she was so desperate to help.” She waved the waitress over and collected the bill. He went to grab the bill but she attempted to snatch it off the table. “Ah, nope. You are buying drinks.” James chuckled, looking down he realized she was still holding his hand. Gently rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. “You know, I have some aged whiskey at my flat.” Feeling like a schoolboy. This wasn't his first time. But she is so perfect he didn't want to mess it up, squeezing his hand, “Guess we better get going.”

********

The door swung open and she was wrapped around his waist. Their lips never breaking apart. Using his foot he slammed the door shut. Pressing her body against the adjacent wall. Lifting her skirt to gain access to her needing…. Moaning into his lips she grinds on his growing member. Breaking the kiss she briefly spoke, ”Bed.Now” A growl made its way from his chest. Dropping her down he dragged her through the long hallway swinging open a door into what she assumed to be his room. Grasping her face he pulls her lips to his. His hands roaming freely on her body. His hand gathering her skirt and bringing it down to pull at her feel. Walking her backward she falls in the bed and her breasts bounce. Standing back he untucked his shirt from his jeans ”I warn you. I am not some gentle lover.” Pulling his shirt over his head. ”I will not go easy on you. So if you are not sure. You should leave now.” Drinking up his torso, following his happy trail down to his V. She gave him a sly smile, ”Oh I knew this was going to be fun.”

@devilbat @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @lokis-little-kitten

[justmewoo]

Dirty Little Secret |eɴᴅᴇᴀᴠᴏʀ x rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ|

I was naive falling in love with you. But maybe a part of me wanted to believe everything you said.

"wнen тнe тearѕ coмe ѕтreaмιng down yoυr ғace  'caυѕe yoυ loѕe ѕoмeтнιng yoυ can'т replace  wнen yoυ love ѕoмeone вυт ιт goeѕ тo waѕтe wнaт coυld ιт вe worѕe?" -coldplay.

_____________________________________________________________

"Did you ever feel that magical spark inside you everytime we made LOVE?"

How did it end up like this? Why did I let him treat me like garbage? Only used me so he wouldn't feel alone. I was naive and stupid thinking that maybe one day he would change to become a better man but, I was foolish for such a wish like that. I fell head over heels to ever think it would happen. Maybe somewhere deep inside of me had that tiny little hope. I could still remember those hatred words he yelled before leaving the hotel room where we last made love. 

"If  you don't want to loose that scholarship that I PAYED for, you better keep your mouth shut. You're nothing but a foolish girl who's only good at sleeping around with heroes for money. Forget we ever met and go back to your pathetic life. I never want to see you again." Those were his last words. Yet after such a long time I can't seem to forget them. 

It's true that if it wasn't for his help I couldn't had gotten into a good college. But he was wrong about sleeping around with other heroes because the person whom I lost my V card was him and no one else. He's completely insane if he thinks I sleep around with others especially heroes. I was only a freshmen when that argument took place and the last time I saw him. He said he was going to pay for the scholarship every year but he lied. Once the second semester was over they inform me that no one had made a payment for the second year. 

I got two part time jobs during summer vacation but it still wasn't enough to pay for the second year. So with all my heart I had to drop out it was impossible for someone as a simple civilian like myself to pay an extreme amount for a college that wouldn't had turned me into a hero even if I wanted to. But for someone like myself who comes from a small middle class family living outside of Tokyo could never get a fair opportunity like that ever again. 

I had no other choice but to return back home and help out my mom with taking care of my sibilings. My mother remarried with a man named [D/N] he's a kind and gentle men who loves my mother very much. Despite him not being my biological father he's always supported me and my crazy ideas. My mom and him had two little girls. One is eight years old named Akari while the youngest one is five years old named Himawari. 

My biological father passed away before I was born so my step dad adopted me as his daughter giving me he's last name. It's been at least two years since i've been living with my family. I was nineteen years old when everything fell upside down. But I have turned twenty one a few months ago thankfully living here has been a great environment for me. My family has helped me get through it and I hardly think of him. They don't know anything about my secret relationship with Endeavor and they probably never will at least that's what I used to think.

I know work at a elementrey school where my both sisters attend. I'm a teacher's assistant for fourth graders. Both my parents used to ask me about why I dropped out of college when I was so excited about attending. Of course I had to lie and try my best to dodge the question but of course they both knew something was up. But respected my privacy and space so they stopped asking. 

"Ne, sister are you going to the field trip with us to U.A. University tomorrow?" [I AM HAVING THE CHARACTERS INCLUDED IN THIS FANFIC SO EVERYONE WILL BE THE SAME AGE AS THE READER.] Himawari asked glancing at me as all three of us walked down the street holding hands together. 

I smiled down at her. "Of course I will hima your big sis will be with you all day tomorrow." 

Akari snorted. "That's not fair why can't you come with me it's not the same with mom." I stroked her hair. "Don't be mean Akari mom is fun at fieldtrips. When I was your age she would always sit with me in the bus along with all my friends." 

"What's so fun about that? It sounds pretty lame to me." I pinched her cheek. "She would use her quirck to make magic tricks." I released my hand from her cheek. While she rubbed her red cheek and continued walking. 

"Alright, you have a point there mom's magic tricks are pretty cool. Wow look at that look sis it's him!" Akari pointed a finger at the televisions from a store on our right side. I turned my head to Akari along with Himawari running over to the glass window where other people passing by took a glance or ignored it and continued on with their day. 

"You guys we are going to be la-"

"Just In the Number Two Hero Endeavor has done it again. Earlier this morning he captured one of the villains whom was on the most wanted list for killing several people around Tokyo. There are a few casualties but nothing to serious luckily civilains could now feel free to walk around the street without feeling scared look there he comes now. Mr. Endeavor Sir can we get a word!." The reporter and cameras all gathered around Endeavor with the villain tied in a rope. Endeavor crossed his arms smirking at his surroundings and directly to the cameras. "Mr. Endeavor how did you managed to captured such a villain who was on the search for almost two years." He asked placing the microphone over to him. Endeavor took a step forward to the camera and spoke. 

"It doesn't matter how he was captured all you need to know is this villain will not hurt another civilain he will be in jail for a very long time. The Number Two Hero will always be here to proect everyone that's my job as a hero." Endeavor walked away from the reporters making them chase over him to get another interview out of him. The screen turned black and people cheered including my two younger sisters. The small crowd that was gathered around the small shop disappeared one by one. 

"Endeavor's so cool don't, you think so sis?" Himawari asked running over to me as Akari followed behind. 

"I know right! When I grow up I want to become a hero just like him!" I snapped my head towards them. I clucthed my hands near my side. 

"Don't you ever repeat that again do you hear me Akari you could never be like him and you will never meet him ever! Now come on we can't be late for school." The rest of the way to school it was silent both girls know not to talk back when I get angry.

Once arriving to school Akari walked away from us to her friends leaving himawari and I alone. Hima glanced at her sister then back at me. "Why did you get mad at us big sis?" She asked hugging my leg staring me back with those big brown eyes of hers. 

I looked down at her then back at the ground. "Because...." 

"Do you not like Endeavor sis? Because you never get mad at us often Akari is sad because you yelled at us but, we didn't do anything wrong." 

I shook my head kneeling down to her height. "Me not liking.... him has nothing to do with me getting mad at her I promise." 

"Then why don't you go apologize to her?" She sure isn't making this easy maybe I should apologize to her. I just wish she wouldn't look up to someone who doesn't know the true him. Underneath all the fame and glory he doesn't give a crap about anyone. 

"Himawari i'm here what do you want." Akari stood next to hima. 

"Big sis wants to apologize to you now do it quick i'll leave you two alone." Hima ran away over to her friends. Akari kicked a pebble with her shoe ignoring eye contact with me. 

"Listen I shouldn't had yelled at you. I was just angry because you ran off without my permission and took Hima with you. I don't want anything bad to happen to you okay...... and about what I said forget it you have the right to look up at any hero you want just please... choose someone better like All Might or Best Jeanist. Don't you think Enj- Endeavor is always grumpy and doesn't like other's company. Do you want to be like him? And talk like this. I'm Endeavor and am the number two hero. I get so angry that I burn myself with my own quirk." I spoke trying to immitate his voice. 

Akari laughed shaking her head. "Not anymore I want to be like All Might because he always smiles and saves people with a smile!" She yelled. 

"See people who save people with a smile are a lot kinder than those who can't never seem to smile." The bell suddenly rang indicating its time for class to start. 

"I promise to take you and Hima for ice cream after school now hurry before you get late to class." I hugged her from behind planting a kiss on her forehead and released her. 

"what about me sis." Himawari came running towards me hugging my waist and gaved her a kiss on the forhead too. "Hurry Hima i'll see you later." Akari waited for her little sister and walked inside the building together. I made my way to the other building of the school. 

FLASHBACK:

It was during summer break before attending my first year in college when I had a planned a big surprise for Enji. I had bought brand new yukata's for couples. Enji's yukata was inside a big blue and grey box with a light baby blue bow. I placed the box on the brown table in the middle of the living room with a note attached to his present. I took a shower and got ready to meet him at the festival before he came home from work. I had asked him earlier today what time he would get home and said around six if nothing important came up. Once I was fully dressed I took a quick picture and saved it before grabbing my purse and exited the apartment. 

When I reached the outside of the building the sun was settling down. A few patches of the sky had a colored of pink mixed with yellow indicating summer time was just beginning. The air was warm yet fresh at the same time. A big smile was plastered on my face as I walked down the street alone admiring the great afternoon many couples walked ahead of me wearing yukata's or kimonos holding hands together walking next to each other. As I walked behind the adorable couple's I couldn't help but imagine how my relationship with Enji would be if he wasn't a pro hero or yet.... married. I was his lover after all there's no way I could ever become his girlfriend. 

I wiped the tears that where slipping out of my eyes before it ruined my make up. I continued my way towards the temple where the festival is being held in. When I reached the temple the sun was no where to be seen but the beautiful night sky filled with stars and a full moon makes everything light up. The festival was full with people standing at the food stands ordering food or walking in a group.

From kids to teenagers to even old people are enjoying the festival. I was the only person who was on her own but I knew soon it will change when Enji gets here. Speaking of Enji he should had gotten home already maybe I should call him. But first i'm going to go get something to eat. I skipped happily at the caramel apple stand to buy an apple. After buying the delicious apple I decided to call Enji and see if he's gotten the surprise. I took my phone out of the bag and dialed Enji's number while taking bites of the apple while I waited for him to answer. 

After the fourth ring he had finally picked up the phone. "Hey, Enji are you home from work yet." I spoke between chews. 

"Yes i'm outside the building where are you, what's that loud noise in the background?" He asked annoyed. 

I smiled enjoying the great atmosphere. "Just go inside the apartment there's a surprise waiting for you." 

"What the hell are you talking about. I'm walking inside now." I could hear the sound of keys and the closing of a door. After a few seconds I could hear him dropping off the keys on the table where the present is laid out for him. "A blue Yukata? why did you buy something I don't wear, where the hell are you." 

I giggled. "It's for you silly I want you to wear it right now and meet me in the festival that's near by..... I was thinking that this could be our first d-

"I'm not going, we aren't a couple your my lover get it through your thick skull how many times do I have to repeat over and over again for you to understand that we aren't in a relationship. I never did this crap with my wife and am not going to do it with you." 

My lips quiver the apple I was eating seconds ago lands on the ground getting covered in dirt all over it. The atmosphere around me fell suffocating I want to cry and screamed at the world. "B-but E-En-ji I wanted to... I thought w-we could spend time together like any couple." 

"We aren't a couple gosh darn it [Y/N] can't you understand what I just said! Do you want the entire world to know about my affair with an eighteen year old! Do you want to ruin my career!" Enji growl throught the phone. 

"But Enji-" 

"No buts! You know what i'm going home I don't want to see your face today!" Enji hanged up the phone before I could speak again. 

"But I love you Enji....." 

Enji had used his quirk to burn the blue Yukata and threw the box away ripping it in pieces. He grabbed his belongings and left to his house. When I got back to the apartment the place was a mess. There where pieces of burned clothing everywhere. The placed reaked of fire but when I realized the burned clothing was the Yukata I gave him my tears had finally fell. 

"[LAST NAME] Sensei you're crying are you alright?" My memory came back to school. The voice of a student brought me back to reality. 

I wiped the tears that I didn't know I was crying and smiled back at them. "I'm alright just got something in my eye maybe its this air that causes me allergies but go on continue doing your work so you can go play with your classmates." They nodded and continued to do their classwork while I spaced out again. 

"I keep telling myself I will forget about you but it's impossible because you will forever be my first love." 

________________________

Thank you for reading this fanfic of Enji. I apologize for the bad grammar and mistakes. English isn't my first language so writing could get a bit difficult. Another thing dont bring any hate because I know not everyone likes Endeavor. Thank you for reading see you next time! One last thing every character from Izuku to Tenya will be the same age as the reader so in their early 20s. And U.A will become a University. 

[hulaherron]

Consequences (J.M)

Jonah hasn’t been around, and you realize that your love has consequences. Based off ‘Consequences’ by Camila Cabello

Words: 1,010

Warning(s): Mad angst, alcoholism, some violence, swearing.

A/N: I feel like I always write Jonah off as a bad boyfriend, but I really don’t mean to! I just can’t picture any of the other boys in this imagine.

It was nearly 3 in the morning. You didn’t know why you bothered staying up, as you knew Jonah wouldn’t return until the sun had risen. After all, that’s how it had been going for the past three months of your relationship. He would come home smelling of alcohol and cheap perfume, always yelling at you for no reason before blacking out on the kitchen floor. But no matter how bad it got for you, you stayed. You stayed because he always came back to you, no matter how drunk or sick he was. He always returned.

You sat on the couch, staring at the black TV screen. Your eyes were red and puffy, tears still streaming down your cheeks. Old tissues were scattered around you, the now empty box tossed aside. Your stomach gurgled, begging you to eat anything. But you simply ignored it, continuing to just sit there. You harshly wiped the tears from your cheeks before forcing yourself to stand up, collecting all the garbage that surrounded you. Jonah hates when the apartment is messy. You carefully tidied your home, making sure that every surface was spotless. 

You grabbed your phone and slipped it in your pocket before grabbing your duffel bag and gathering as many of your things as you could remember. You robotically folded your clothes and placed them in the bag, then packed your makeup bag and your favorite shampoo. You forced yourself to pick your favorite three photos from the house and carefully set them with your things before zipping the bag. 

You picked up the bag before looking around the house. You ran your fingers over Jonah’s guitar, which had been gathering dust. All the memories came rushing back as you did so, causing a new wave of tears to roll over your skin. 

“It was absolutely beautiful, baby,” you giggled as Jonah finished playing a song he had written. You pulled him into the bed with you, carefully kissing his lips. He would be going on tour soon, and it was your last few nights to cherish his warmth. This was your safe space; where you could say anything without being judged or hated. Jonah was your sunshine, filling you with warmth and love. He was yours, and you loved him.

That was way before Jonah started drinking, when you had no worries about your relationship. You had imagined that you would be like that forever, yet time had proved you wrong. You tore your eyes away from the old guitar and immediately focused on the teddy bear on the couch. 

You let out a tiny scream as Jonah swept you off your feet, both of you laughing wildly. He had decided to take you to the carnival, one of your favorite events of the year. The two of you had spent the evening playing silly games and eating various sweets. Everything about the night felt magical, as if nothing could go wrong. 

“Another drink, Y/N?” He asked you, pointing to a concession stand. You shook your head and watched as he walked up to buy yet another alcoholic drink. You were quite surprised to see that there wasn’t any drinking limits set, but at that point, Jonah had barely had anything. He returned to your side quickly, taking your hand in his and leading you to the infamous ring toss booth. 

“Hold this?” He asked you, holding out his beer can. You took it from him and grinned as he pulled out two dollars, receiving six rings in return.

“Go Jo Jo!” You cheered playfully, sipping his drink.You weren’t crazy about beer, but drank from time to time on special occasions. You watched as he easily flicked four of the six rings onto the bottle necks, the other two clattering on the floor. The bystanders applauded him happily, the man running the booth congratulating him and handing him a fluffy brown teddy bear. Jonah turned around, holding it out to you.

“For you, m’lady,” he said jokingly as you traded his beer for the stuffed animal. You grinned and pecked his cheek gently. 

“Thank you. I love you Jonah.”

You wished that you could take the happy bear with you, but it wasn’t yours to keep. You sighed and shifted your glance to the small flower vase sitting on the coffee table. It looked nearly perfect from a distance, but when you got closer, you could easily see how the two halves were glued together. 

“Jonah, please!” You shouted at your boyfriend, tears filling your eyes. Jonah was fuming, but you didn’t know why. He had come home late again, still drinking a beer from whatever party he was at. All you had wanted to do was go to bed. 

“Shut up, Y/N! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He screamed, grabbing the tiny purple vase off the coffee table. “You’re such a little bitch sometimes, you know that? You’re constantly complaining about whatever I do!” He whipped the vase at you, the ceramic cracking in half on the door frame behind you. Silence fell over the apartment as Jonah quickly sobered up. You collapsed to your knees, bawling into your hands. “Oh fuck. Y/N.” 

That night had ended in apologies and cuddles, Jonah swearing that he would never hurt you. He promised that he wouldn’t drink as much as he had been, and you had believed him. Once again, you had been proven horribly wrong. Finally, you walked into the kitchen, eyeing the dirty glasses in the sink. You had been nagging Jonah all weekend to clean up after himself, only to be met with a grunt and a door slam. An empty whiskey bottle sat on the counter, the only item out of place in the entire apartment. You stared at it for a long time before backing away, grabbing a post-it note from the drawer and scribbling a note for Jonah.

  Jonah—

Loving you has consequences.

— Y/N