#damn thing Barbie coded too

[junespriince]

Homophobic Dick au (it's Jay's but I'll stealing it because it's too funny not too,,,, hope that okay Jay I can take it down if you want me to!!)

Dick: hey what's your wifi password?

Wally: IloveyouDickie.

Dick: that's weird, you call me Dickie...

Wally: I know.

Dick: did you make it that way because you knew I was coming over, and it would be funny?

Wally: nope been that way since I got it.

Dick: that's weird...

Wally: anyways our anniversary is coming up.

Dick: I think you have the wrong idea about us... We're just friends.

Wally, dying inside just a tad: I know, but if it makes you uncomfortable I can cancel the Chili's reservation then.

Dick: well .. don't do that.

Wally, a little smug: oh so you want to go to Chili's?

Dick: yes, *going back to work* I'm getting fajitas.

Wally, heart shaped pupils, whispers: I love you.

[shawtuzi]

i’m having thee worst plug!eren brainrot rn so here’s some random hc’s for himmm

mdni///cw include: black coded reader, SMUT, a whole lotta tooth rotting fluff, drug usage, major gun kink, talks of mommy and daddy issues, some grisha slander heh, not proofread so there may be some spelling mistakes :((

♡ so it’s goes without saying he is one of those ppl that has no idea what to do when someone’s crying in front of him. he grew up in a household where if he was ever caught crying he’d be told to suck it up and act like a man :(( so it’s very hard for him to find the right words to say or do the right actions when comforting someone. on the bright side he has gotten better at it since he’s met you.

♡ the first time you cried in front of him was when you made the horrible decision to show him the movie ‘my sisters keeper’ and you were an absolute mess by the time the credits rolled. “are you….are you crying?” he asked absolutely flabbergasted that you were crying, sure the movie was sad but was it really that sad?? (yes it is). “of c-course im sad *hiccup* did you not watch any of the damn movie?” you sniffled crossing your arms over you chest. instead of talking about it any further eren just pulled you onto his lap and tucked your face in his neck muttering out a ‘whatever you say weirdo.’ after witnessing many moments like that he’s wayyy better at handling your lil emotional self.

♡ he’s surprisingly a natural with kids!!! one of his homeboys has a three year old daughter who is absolutely too precious for her own good and every time eren sees her he can’t help but turn into a pile of mush. he doesn’t do the whole baby talk thing though he’ll talk to that little girl like she’s one of the homies much to your dismay. one time he bought her a barbie car as a present and the gesture was adorable a first until he opened his damn mouth, “and if any of those kids at the park mess with you just run them over with this and they’ll leave you alone okay? listen to your uncle eren he knows his shit.” that earned him a smack upside the head from you and an exhausted head shake from his homeboy. he rlly is too much.

♡ seeing you with his homies daughter also ignited something in him he’s never ever felt before. eren could never see himself as a dad, maybe the cool uncle but nothing more than that. but goddamn seeing you handle kids makes him wanna buy a big ass house and give you as many kids as you’ll let him—hence his raging breeding kink that appears from time to time. you always wondered why he got so riled up every time he saw you with his friends daughter and then it all started to make sense one night when he was fucking you like a madman and kept moaning n panting about how pretty you’d look carrying his kids. you both came to an agreement that kids were off the table for a while but it didn’t make it any less fun when he stuffed you full of his cum until he was basically shooting blanks.

♡ “g-goddamn fuck y/n,” eren groaned into your ear, emptying his fourth load into your aching pussy. you were absolutely spent—nothing but a babbling, brain dead mess. you thought eren would’ve been too tired as well, but when he pulled his face outta your neck he still had that mischievous glint in eyes that had you folded up in the first place. “m’still hard,” he whispered making you whimper. “no…n-no more ren too sensitive,” you whined making eren hum. he glanced at your thighs that were still shaking from the aftershocks of you previous orgasm, then looked back into your eyes. you knew what he was hinting at and meekly nodded your head making him smile. he slowly pulled out of your pussy, gently shushing you when he heard you whine before sitting back on his knees. he pushed your thighs together and quickly slipped his dick between the pillowy skin, groaning at how soft you felt. “yeah…that’s it you feel so good mama,” he grunted pulling his kiss swollen bottom lip between his teeth. every once in a while he dick would glide across your overly sensitive clit making you mewl. it didn’t take long for eren to reach his peak once again and without warning he parted your thighs and shoved his dick back into your pussy knocking all the air out of your lungs. “so good….always so good for me. my perfect girl i love you do much,” eren muttered breathlessly into your ear.

♡ his love language is words of affirmation hands down!!!! he practically purrs like a kitten when you tell him how much you love him and how much he means to you :((

♡ i don’t think it’s any surprise he’s got some pretty bad mommy AND daddy issues. losing carla at a young age had a monumental impact on him as a kid and grisha didn’t even deserve the title of being a father. his whole life he’s never been able to be vulnerable in front of anyone until he met you ofc. you were his light, his safe haven and he didn’t know what he did to deserve someone as caring and nurturing as you but he never dared question it. you’d only seen him cry one time in front of you and it was when you went with him to visit carla’s grave. he looked like he was holding so much in and it absolutely broke your heart. “it’s okay to be upset eren you don’t ever have to put on that tough façade for me,” you whispered pressing a kiss to his trembling lips that was full of so much love and care he could’ve sobbed. he still has his moments where he closes his emotions off from you but day by day you’re slowly breaking down those walls he built up all those years.

♡ he is a true crime girly!!! he’s one of those ppl that can go to sleep watching the i.d. channel and still sleep peacefully.

♡ you’re a tad bit too clumsy for your own good so eren keeps a thing of bandaids and alcohol in his car and then a small lil box of sanrio themed bandaids in your purse. you thought he was absolutely ridiculous for keeping them on standby until you used damn near all the sanrio themed bandaids.

♡ “not so ridiculous for keeping these around now am i huh?” he chuckled putting the bandaid on your scraped knee. you didn’t say anything instead letting out an annoyed huff, but the annoyance quickly went away when he gave your knee three kisses. “my clumsy girl,” he snickered giving your pouting lips a kiss. “s’not my fault these heels are just too tall,” you mumbled kicking them off in annoyance. eren smirked and reached behind his seat pulling out a pair of fluffy slides, “i knew you’d get annoyed with them eventually—put these on instead,” he said setting the slides on your lap. you tried to your bratty act up but you just couldn’t stop the smile that crept on your glossed up lips, “you’re the best renny,” you giggled giving his cheek a kiss. “i know i am.” cocky ass mf.

♡whenever y’all are at your place it’s such a sight seeing this big, strong, mean man all comfortable in your pink fluffy blankets n cuddling with your squishmallows even though he supposedly has beef w them—but let me not even get into that seriously. sometimes after he’s done beating your pussy up he’ll grab two of your plushies and make them hump each other pretending it’s the two of you.

♡ “yes yes yes eren!” eren moaned on a high pitched voice making your cheeks burn in embarrassment. you tried snatching the plushies from his grip but it was no use he was too damn strong. “oh my godddd eren enough!” you whined smacking his chest, leaving a red handprint in the making. eren’s jaw dropped and he turned to you his brows furrowed, “now that wasn’t very nice was it?” he said turning his head to plushie. “not very nice at all,” he said dropping his voice an octave making you giggle. you moved yourself onto his stomach and grabbed the plushies, tossing them aside. “m’sorry baby,” you pouted giving the red mark a sweet kiss, “let me make it up to you.” and that’s how you ended up face down ass up while eren pounded you from behind, the force making you grab onto your plushies for dear life.

♡ he’s very very into gunplay and it’s all your fault. that day you asked him so nicely to fuck your mouth with his glock was the day you created a monster.

♡ one night you both were at a block party and ‘get low’ by lil jon started playing and you couldn’t help but make your way over to where everyone was dancing and join in. eren admired you from the side taking a hit of his blunt every once in a while. you looked so damn good it was criminal. the way your denim mini skirt began to ride up your thick thighs from dancing had eren’s dick jumping in his pants. while you were dancing you suddenly felt a pair of strong arms around you and knew exactly who it was. “you look so fine dancing out here you’re killing me baby,” he chuckled pushing your backside into his front and that’s when you felt it. you froze in your spot making eren smirk, “you okay mama?” he asked pressing a wet kiss to your neck. not even five minutes later you dragged eren to his car and bounced on his dick while while you sucked on his glock. even though the windows were blacked out anyone with eyes could tell what was happening with the way the car bounced and jostled. “fuck just like that baby make a mess on this dick,” eren groaned, pushing the glock deeper into your mouth.

♡ it didn’t stop there either sometimes eren liked to have you point the gun at his head while he fucked you. “look at my sweet girl holding my—goddamn m-my fucking gun. so damn naughty hm?” he grinned loving the way you were struggling to hold it against his head.

♡ his only social media is instagram and it’s basically a fanpage dedicated to you. his profile pic? a picture of him laying on your ass with the biggest smile on his face. his pinned photos? a picture of you and him with matching grills, one of you both wearing ski masks while his gun is pointed at the camera beam on and everything, and the other one is a pic of you two in a photo booth—you were smiling oh so prettily while one of your boobs was in his mouth. he only follows a few of his friends and the only girl he follows is you ofc not bc you made him only follow you he just chose too <333

♡ now after eren gets locked up life is a little bit different than it used to be. since being a dealer was out of the question he started working at an auto body shop w connie and although he wasn’t making as much money as he was before he still provided for you in every way. you didn’t mind the lack of expensive gifts in the slightest you were just happy your renny was back in your arms. he worked a lot more than he used to which left you a lot more needy for his touch and attention but he always made sure to take care you even after an excruciatingly long day at work.

♡ “missed you so much ren today went by so slow,” you whined against his lips as he fucked into you. he was pretty tired so he went a little slower than he usual fast pace but you didn’t mind in the slightest. “missed you too mama. you’re so sweet f’having dinner ready for me n’ helping me out in the shower,” he groaned pushing his thumb into your mouth which you greedily sucked. he always took a shower as soon as he got off, not wanting to get any oil or other grime from the shop on your pretty clothes. you couldn’t stand to not be in his arms a minute longer so you followed him into the shower and just wrapped your arms around his toned stomach while he showered not saying a word. little did you know in just a few days he’d be taking you on a vacation to barbados (somewhere you’ve been dying to visit) and while you both were there he planned on making you his forever by putting a fat rock on your finger.

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Jeff x Alan & Kenta x Pete Colors Ep. 11

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here.

Disclaimer: I've been listening to Drake's "You Broke My Heart (Fuck My Ex)" on repeat for over two hours, so I'm *in* my feels, and all of them are salty.

Jeffrey, the red? Really?! Is it because you are looking at Barbie suffering and know the truth?! YOU KNOW, MOTHERF*CKER!

Love that Pete's side starts with the blue-est drink because he is a GOOD MAN, while Waymond's side begins with the non-blue side since he cannot pick a side in this color war!

Peter, I know you were a red, but I also notice you in that blue blazer, and the way you look at Waymond. I wish Waymond could see that no matter how much the red may linger, he NEEDS to make a choice. Be blue. Commit to it, Way Way.

Babe is back in black, Alan is blue, and Jeffrey is a LIAR!

"You broke my heart. I had my doubts about you from the start! I swear you're dead to me. Does Mercedes make a hearse? FUCK MY EX!"

All I'm getting out of this is Jeffrey and Charles have a dad and Decanus was the fall guy for this very-dumb-plan. I am not a Dean apologist, but I am very much on his side, without a doubt, no hesitation.

Alan Scale - 12/10. Why?! WHY?! It's not even the damn outfits. IT'S THE RED TUBE OF PRODUCT PLACEMENT Y'ALL ARE SHARING! Are y'all secret agents?! Do y'all have superpowers? What in the hell is y'alls deal?!

KIMBERLY! Not wearing red. I wouldn't either. Fuck them hoes. You're a free man now. I love you and I like you.

Alan, you have never done anything wrong (expect apologize to lying Jeffrey), and you using the blue tube of product placement is healing my soul. I love you. I like you. I respect you.

Pete in the blue shirt too! My holy trinity is coming through. Kimberly, Alan, and Peter, you are good men, and I have never doubted you. You three will save the day like the PowerPuff Girls. Sugar, Spice, and Chemical-X. Beat the hell out of Mojo Jojo Big Red. And in case it's not clear: Alan = Buttercup, Kim = Blossom, Pete = Bubbles

Kentana, why do you have spies at Bubbles' place?! You were spying on him in the woods, and y'all had that moment. Why are you so obsessed with him?

Jeffrey, in the blue. Better be telling Buttercup you're sorry for LYING and that you love him. You will never find a better man. NEVER!

Oh, are you telling him that?!

I think you are! There is pink!

Buttercup, these was cheesy af, and I'm disgusted at myself for smiling when the hearts connected.

POP OFF, SIR! Sex on the blue bed!

Sex in the blue shower!

Cuddles in the blue bathroom! Jeffrey is gonna be blue one way or another, even if Alan has to -redacted- it into him.

Big Red did wear red once?! Color me shocked, but who are these kids in the past? A blue kid and red kid? Which one are you, Kentana?

I love that the blue is *right* there next to Kentana, yet he stays in the black. He is a Black Brooder, but he is blue-adjacent, and I just do not understand why he can't be loyal to the blue instead of the red.

Oh, wait! Was that them as kids?! Pete, in his red pants, emerged from the blue (because he has always been a GOOD MAN!), but . . . that means Kentana was the little blue kid? Kentana, what made you go black? The abuse? The manipulation? You and Barbara are the same text, but different font, and I just need you to be better. Kiss Peter and let him heal you because this is the second time you have pushed him against a wall, and I think you want any excuse to be on him.

Waymond, I'm stressed over your ass. Color-coded boys in love get happy endings, and unlike Kentana who is color coded black and Southwest Airlines and Vegas' Hedgehog who are just pure color chaos, you refuse to pick a damn color. And do you know what that means? No happy endings. You are paired with Peter, and he is trying with you, but it's episode 11 and you haven't solidified your color. Are you black? Are you blue? Are you red? Are you gonna kiss Peter because if not, Kentana sure looks like he will? ARE YOU GOING TO GET A HAPPY ENDING?!

Peter, always in the blue! ALWAYS! Give that blue to Waymond. Give that blue to Kentana. And kiss them! I cannot support Waymond and Kentana's wrongs if they don't kiss a boy (with consent, Waymond!)

KENTANA! In the dark, again. Pete is always coming from the blue, and you are always in the dark. SEE THE LIGHT, KENTANA!

Oh my god! The dark versus light. Y'all were best buddies since childhood. Quit your shit, Kentana. You are a good guy in there. I saw it in the beginning when you looked sad that Barbie was being hit, but I need you to act! I need you to do something, and I'm hoping it won't be sacrificing yourself. Kiss a man! Kiss Kimberly already! You and Waymond are scaring me!

OH SHIT!

Pete. Liked. It.

Waymond. Waymundo. Way. I thought you were supposed to be with Peter and Kimberly and Kentana would be the new Kardashians, but . . . are you going to be the sacrifice? You cannot settle on a color. You haven't kissed a man (with consent). You are drinking all the time. You were taking pills to cope with life. Kiss any man so I can know you are safe.

FUCK!

Way, please touch Whiny Winifred and convince him not to do shoot. Way, please do not take a bullet for Barbara to atone for your sins. Barbie can fix himself if he is shot. Way, please do not do this to me. Please. I'm begging you.

Don't. Fucking. Do. It.

[luckyarchivist]

You're Mhin hcs are so fun to read!! Do you have any Vere hcs you'd like to share as well? (No pressure 😅😅)

Gonna be honest with you, anon: I never have ANYTHING in my head to share. It's empty in there. But since you asked, here's some things that came to mind!

General Vere HCs

Because he's literally a fox Monster, I think a lot of my HCs are based around that! For example:

He's destructive. Yeah. He destroyed Kuras's office because he hates him, but I also think he can't help it. His own place probably has scratches and bite marks on appropriate posts, too, though not as many—it is his space after all, he wants it to be good enough for him.

He will sometimes bite (not too hard) as a sign of affection. Very "rawr XD girlfriend who nom :3 uwu"-coded of him.

Yes, he does like to be pet, and scritched. However, he doesn't like 99% of people who try to, so best not to attempt it. For any brave soul out there: Scritches on the sides of his neck, where his hairline is, will get him super relaxed.

He can get the urge to "laugh" if he's really happy or excited about something, which he tries to suppress—he's better at keeping a lid on it than he is about hiding his tail wagging. This "laugh" sounds different from his sultry, cultivated "ha-ha~ you're funny~" laugh; it's more like a high-pitched, hiccupy giggle. It can make him sound a little crazy. Shame he won't weaponize it to be even more evil.

I also have non-fox-related headcanons for Vere, though, lol.

We already know he's a talented artist; I think his preferred mediums are pencil and charcoal.

This is a shippy headcanon, but I do think he has a lot of drawings of Ais's side profile in his sketchbook—one of the reasons why people are not allowed to leaf through it. Other things in his sketchbook include figure drawings, rough sketches of people who catch his fleeting interest, and symbols or beings from his dreams.

On the subject of dreams: Vere puts some stock into their contents. Maybe because of his unique constitution, he feels his dreams can have hints, warnings, and premonitions mixed in with the shit that doesn't make any sense. That's why, if something sticks out to him in a dream, he'll draw it.

Even with his heeled shoes off, Vere prefers to walk primarily on his toes. He's like a Barbie doll!

He generally likes slower, soothing music. In the modern day, he'd probably be a fan of old-school ballads and even ambient music.

This is a weird one, but I think Vere is really good at imitating people's voices. His voice is too unique to sound exactly like other people, but he can get pretty damn close, enough to fool someone on a first listen.

Thanks so much for your ask!

[isekai-crow]

Cherry Magic Ep 3

I thought we were gonna get the partner for Masato in episode 3, but we got him in episode 4. INSTEAD HOWEVER, in episode 3 we got some other fun characters!!

ONE OF THEM BEING VOICED BY FUCKING YUUSUKE SHIRAI!!!!

Was not expecting his high pitched whiney voice to appear OUT OF A CHARACTER LIKE THIS but also I really SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED. HE'S A STAPLE IN BL ANIME AND AUDIO DRAMAS. High pitched whiney is a compliment by the way because its CUTE and made Capybara have conniptions while listening cause this is his favorite VA, and also DAMN THIS DUDE HAS RANGE.

GO listen to the character Ramuda's voice from HypMic and you'll see what I'm talking about. His other characters are friggen Sasaki from Sasaki and Miyano, Nikaido from Idolish7, Usui Masumi from A3!, and basically this man can SING and has RANGE and is bread and butter in the anime idol boy world.

So yea, Shirai, Yuusuke plays the annoying kouhai Yuuta Rokkaku, whose only purpose is to make Kurosawa jealous of Adachi spending time with someone and make Adachi jealous of Kurosawa's 'perfection' when Kurosawa starts showing off trying to get his attention away from Rokkaku. I also hope he becomes a Shipper On Deck with the other new character, Nozomi Fujisaki!

Koshimizu, Ami is the voice of Fujisaki sempai, who is so far just a stereotypical Japanese office lady, but having seen her in the opening we know that she is the CAPTAIN of this Ship, All Hands On Deck, and has fucking Acrylic Stands of these two that she's absolutely gonna make kiss like barbie dolls.

She also voices fricken Ryuuko fro Kill La Kill, Kallen Stadtfield from Code Geass, Sailor Jupiter from Sailer Moon Crystal, and a TON of other big name female characters!! Delightful.

LMAO if this isn't the first thing that pops up in episode 3!! I'VE TAKEN THIS MEDICINE BEFORE. It's OTC anti-hangover meds THAT FUCKING WORK. They're also really good for dealing with certain IBS symptoms. OTC Meds in Japan are Great. (*w*)b

Episode 3 is the Karaoke Episode, standard Japanese business life going drinking with your superiors to "improve moral" (This shit sucks, and I only had to deal with it the first 3 years I lived here. Bosses don't know what boundaries are, don't even know the word).

There's tons of funny faces. This episode was having so much fun.

Poor Kurosawa fails at impressing his love interest with Karaoke cause the man is too upset by how perfect he is. WHY DOES HE HAVE TO BE GOOD AT EVERYTHING. I'm waiting for the moment when that perfection is peeled back to show the person underneath.

Adachi tries to rescue his female co-worker whose being catcalled / harrased by drunk dudes not even from their company, only to get rescued himself.

Fujisaki is all of us. She knows EXACTLY WHAT'S GOING ON. Even if Adachi doesn't lmao. She doesn't need to read minds. She's got Fujoshi-Senses.

Adachi is also not subtle at ALL ABOUT TOUCHING?????? But he's also NEVER successful???????? MY BOY. THINK. USE THAT SINGULAR BRAIN CELL TO FIND A BETTER WAY.

I guess Adachi like Rokkoku enough to go to a Sauna with him? And Kurosawa is of course tags along because he gets to see Adachi naked.

This is also SUCH a Japanese thing. Someone's hobby is always something boring like "listening to music" or "watching movies" or "drinking socially" which aren't REAL hobbies, OR IT'S WEIRD RANDOM STUFF LIKE GOING TO A SAUNA.

OH LOOK HIS NIPPLES ARE GROWN IN. (This is a running joke between me and Capybara about whether a character is an adult or not)

Bless this poor simping man. Some day. Just you wait.

STEAM CONDUCTS THOUGHTS!!!!! Poor Adachi clutching his towel and running like the fair maiden heart he is after seeing all of Kuroswa's fantasies.

So capybara and my theory is that it's BODY heat that transfers the thoughts, otherwise it wouldn't work through clothing. (What happens if we get an Adachi or Kurosawa with hypothermia? Sick Fic anyone?)

But also this is the kind of stuff I feel bad for Kurosawa about. He's allowed to have fantasies damnit! They shouldn't be held against him! Unless he does something to Adachi that he doesn't want or consent to LET THE MAN LIVE DAMNIT.

But also poor Adachi for having to experience that anyways haha.

We get a rare moment here of hearing Kurosawa's inner thoughts (mostly self pity about the situation his heart has gotten him into), and it's NOT filtered through Adachi for once! So it humanizes him a bit more (not that he wasn't human before? But like people idolize him rather than villanize him... I don't know the word I'm looking for... endears us to him?) and we get to see his thoughts on the situation, the damage that's been done from being basically a "Gifted Kid" in more ways than one, fucking SA'd by a CEO Lady and also WHY he likes Adachi and damn, it took someone seeing him as something less then Ken Doll Perfect for once in his life to fall for someone of the same sex. It's definitely more than that, but like. That's so story book sweet and a little sad type romantic. I love it.

It took one man giving him a Dom Face to awaken the Inner Sub in him, and his heart was stolen, lmao. (I think this might be Capybara projecting and wanting someone to look at HIM like that tho >w>) (im gonna get murdered for that)

I hope they continue to play with tropes and don't follow the standard "One of these MALE characters is just a stand in for a FEMALE, so one is the seme/top and one is the uke/bottom and they NEVER switch."

God I hope they switch. And/Or Adachi makes the first real move. Or like, Pins / Kabe-Don's Kurosawa to the wall. That would make me so happy.

CAREFUL ADACHI. HE'S ON TO YOU. HE'S STARTING TO SUSPECT YOU'RE USING WITCH CRAFT ON HIM.

also AHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE. Kurosawa is adorable and so in love and so worried, and it's fairly realistic! I can't wait for more.

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

Tack för taggen Lellis @aracloptia :P

Last song: Wolke 4 by Philipp Dittberner & Marv is currently on repeat. Very ineffable husbands coded (since I bothered to look up a translation of the lyrics lol) and also mellow and monotonous enough to disappear into the background while doing other stuff. It's comforting.

Last movie: I... honestly don't remember when I watched a movie last? No wait, I finally got round to looking up Barbie last week. It was good.

Currently watching: bbc ghosts is basically on repeat as well, as is good omens s2.

Currently reading: my brain is fried from course work so currently nothing else 🙃 (waiting with bated breath for my copy of Ghosts: the Button House Archives to arrive in 2 weeks though)

Currently working on: so many things. A ghosts video edit as a sort of series send-off, a couple of fics (one ghosts one, one ghosts-good omens crossover, neither of them likely to be published any time soon), and a damned poem I'm trying to build around the one good line I came up with (but the anxiety I'm trying to express is getting in the way of actually writing it, which is very frustrating). Also a couple more ghosts gifsets.

Currently craving: for this week to be over and to crawl under the covers and not emerge for at least 3 full months, or possibly until the sun returns. Maybe some Thai food

Last thing I searched for writing purposes: excluding word definitions, translations and synonyms, Bren light machine gun (and nobody gasped!)

Too fried to think. Tagging (zero pressure!) @sevenmilliongoldfish @sp-aace and @juuret but feel free to tag along anyone who sees this :)

[sammygender]

long post below be warned

i dislike the way in some feminist circles—and in this particular instance, this means a Guardian review of Barbie, so it’s not even a feminist circle, but i see it a lot while hate-stalking radfems and i hear it a lot in conversation—every little fucked up psychological trait people do, if the person talking about it is a woman, is attributed to womanhood. ‘i am a woman and to exist as a woman is horrific under the patriarchy (true!) and therefore i do this messed-up thing (insert statement).’ and when starting to think about this i said this: i do not know if my dislike of this phenomenon is because it’s true, and it makes me feel weird to think about it because i am a trans man, or because it’s not true, and it feels weird that people attribute human things to Women things (or woman-socialised, non-cis-men, anything that woke people use as a buzzword when they mean ‘woman and anyone i see as a woman’) and act like non cis men have some unique capacity for empathy that cis men/men (differing people will have their own opinions on trans men, and obviously the terfs just think it’s afabs, but i’ll go at this from a perspective where i ignore them) don’t have.

or, rather, i said: i’m sure it is true, for some people, that womanhood has been so traumatising for them that they developed defence mechanisms, but i would argue that is a result of trauma that happens to be gendered and not a thing every woman does & not a thing only women do. & i don’t know if i’m being weird and picky and potentially antagonistic in not LOVING this phenomenon, or whether i’m simply aware of gender essentialism. bc it’s not nice to police how people talk about their oppression. but it also just… feels overly simplified.

FOR EXAMPLE. some of this is because i am a trans man, and it’s horrible to think that my intense, cyclical self-awareness of ‘so i’m doing this, but i KNOW i’m doing this, so it’s okay that i’m doing this!’ is because i was raised as a woman. and that starts to feel like it could be true, because i do have experience of being a girl within me, and who am i to say that this complex, a result of constantly feeling Annoying and like the only way to break that cycle of being Annoying is to be Aware of being annoying because somehow that makes it better, ISN’T because of that? when you actually think about it, though, this feels… silly. how in any way is this an experience unique to women? maybe that they are taught to police themselves and their looks and their everything - true. maybe that leads to that experience of needing to be too self aware. and i see how someone could recognise this trait within them and go This must be because i’m a woman but. it’s like very much a trait i can see in men just as much, just as often, and i think we need to hesitate before ascribing experiences precisely to genders and gender roles we inhabit. first time i ever saw this feeling of irony-piled self-awareness properly expressed was in fucking homestuck, the striders, at one point bo burnham’s 2021 special inside articulated it well. when i read homestuck as a transmasculine 13 year old it felt vaguely like a ‘guy experience’, mostly because i wanted it to be. now i often see this voiced as ‘girl-coded’, something every woman experiences, often paired with poems about making sure you’re always aware of how you’re perceived. but it’s the same damn thing, maybe slightly occasionally different, but same thing. gendered socialisation fucks you up, yeah. women get it worse because they’re oppressed, yeah, but the whole concept of gender enforced into a child is traumatic.

anyway one day ill write an essay on this. & fandom reception. stuff like ‘eldest daughter syndrome’, traits that are seen as inherently gendered but just Aren’t always. it’s always a simplified take.

this goes both ways BTW i’m talking about the problem in feminism bc i am a feminist. but it happens everywhere. one of the most glaringly annoying examples is the idea that ‘men can’t express emotions’. like yes, that is true (to an extent) that men are seen often as weak if they cry! it is ALSO true that, historically, women have been legitimately locked in insane asylums for having feelings and wants more complicated than serve husband and make food for child. it is also true that if a woman shows emotion in front of a man, very often she gets easily dismissed as insane or hysterical. arguably this problem is worse for women because women are like actually oppressed.

and it’s interesting because this leads us to a conclusion - that just you can say ‘i repress my emotions because i’m a man and have been punished for expressing them, in a uniquely gendered way’, you can say ‘i repress my emotions because i’m a woman and i have been punished for expressing them, in a uniquely gendered way’. to go with my previous example - you can say ‘i’m ironically self-aware because i’m a guy and not meant to feel emotions genuinely’. true, this is a thing men are taught because they’re men. you can say ‘i’m ironically self-aware because as a woman i’ve always been mocked for being genuine.’ true, this is a thing that happens to women because they’re women.

anyway. until we get past just designating things and experiences as ONLY for certain genders, we will never get free of gendered oppression/misogyny bc it’s innate to this obsession with gender as 2 binary polar opposites. there’s commonalities, yes, but nothing unique about female or male ‘socialisation’ and you don’t necessarily have more in common with someone the same gender as you just as you don’t necessarily have more in common with someone the same race or the same age - you have SOMETHING in common, but not everything. & it’s weird to presume you do

[notthejanitorjones]

There were many downsides to Jenny's job. Dangers. Possibilities of screwing up timelines. The office vending machine always being out of the good snacks. But every now and then, one surprisingly cool upside would pop up and she'd forget all about those problems. Well, except for the snack one. She was her mother's daughter after all.

Today's fun experiment involved new tech being produced for the department. Her boss was stuck in meeting hell and had asked her to fill in for the time being, which is how Jenny ended up down in the tech room, awkwardly standing there as she watched the blonde agent flutter about the room. If Barbie and Elle Woods had been able to reproduce and create a person with their fashion sense and knack for doing anything, they would have made Agent Reynolds. Jenny was honestly a little surprised that the younger agent hadn't shown up in a full blown hot pink suit at this point, but maybe that was against the dress code. She could feel herself getting off topic, so she scooted her way down to the demonstration setup and jerked her head towards it.

"So…what is this again?"

"It's a time jump mind protection shield."

"That's a terrible name," Jenny said, flushing a bit when she realized she said that out loud.

"I know," Agent Reynolds laughed, putting Jenny's nerves at ease. "Essentially, it's supposed to help protect the mind of agents jumping and shield them from the dangers that could occur when moving in time. You know how it's always extremely dangerous to jump back into a timeline where you already exist?"

"Yup. You risk crossing the streams."

"Which is from…" The younger agent bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, clearly deep in thought before she snapped her fingers and pointed at Jenny. "Ghost!"

"...Busters, but you were close this time!" Jenny laughed.

"I'm getting there," Agent Reynolds said with a wag of her finger. "Anyways, when you jump back in your own timeline, you risk either running into your past self or worse, merging your mind with them. The shield is designed to prevent the latter from happening."

Jenny only caught half of that as she had been imagining Patrick Swayze as a Ghostbuster, so her response was simply, "Huh?"

"An example." Agent Reynolds turned on the small machine. "Let's say you discover a threat in the timeline that occurs when you were thirteen." The blonde's perfectly manicured nails punched in the year, which made Jenny scowl slightly. She couldn't have picked nineteen? Or five? She had way better memories of being five than she did of being thirteen. Also, how was it that a girl who used her hands every damn day had such good nails and her office job left her with crummy ones? She could hear that Agent Reynolds was still talking and quickly tried to catch herself up.

"...so your current age's mind would still be completely functional in your thirteen year old body. You'd have complete mental capacity and would retain all your current day memories in the past. Not sure it would work in jumping forward in your timeline though." The agent shrugged. "No time to test that. But obviously this machine would only be good for things like recon missions or monitoring. You wouldn't want a five year old trying to do hand to hand combat."

Jenny knew that Agent Reynolds was joking, but her five year old sister had kicked her in the mouth once by accident and it hurt like the devil, so she fully believed five year olds could do that. "I guess I just have one more question," she said, leaning on the table by the machine. "Is it safe to–"

As if on cue, her foot slipped and sent her leaning body straight into the table, causing the small but still heavy machine to clock her straight in the head as she went down. "Ohmigod!" Jenny could faintly hear the voice, but was too out of it to tell where it was coming from. The little machine beside her on the floor was off, a small crack on the base. Great. She knew she'd be billed for that. Before she could think too much on the matter, she felt two soft arms slide under hers and hoist her up, carefully placing her in one of the office chairs. Wow. Agent Barbie was also super strong. She'd been through enough concussion tests to know that she was dealing with one now and despite her attempts at passing it off, medical was sent for and she was promptly sent home for the day. After making sure she was fine, and a number of texts and calls to other people to assure them she was alright, she set an alarm for the next morning and promptly passed out for the night.

The first thing she noticed in the morning was that her bed was way too comfortable. And too big. She didn't remember having that big of a bed. Oh God, it finally happened. She shrank. She lost her dad's genes and was mom sized now. Her promptly tumbling out of bed proved that wasn't the case. Her sleepy eyes blinked a few times as she tried to adjust to the light in the room, her hand knocking over small items on her nightstand as she looked for her glasses. Great. She left them in the bathroom again. Yawning, she started stumbling towards the door to go grab them when a reflection in the mirror caught her eye. A woman. Brown hair, long legs, creeping by like some sort of menace. Screaming, she dived for the nearest weapon–in this case a replica lightsaber that she definitely didn't remember owning-and swung it wildly in the direction of the woman. But it hit nothing. Another swing. Another miss. She was about to go for a third time when she saw an updated reflection. Woman. Brown hair. Long legs. Wielding a lightsaber. Jenny dropped the one she was holding. So did the woman. She slid to the left, along with her mystery person. Same to the right. After a criss-cross, she could confirm that without a doubt, the woman in the door mirror was her.

The first thing she did was touch her hair. She was so used to the poofy curls that seemed to attract gum and birds like it was a superpower that seeing straight hair had been a shock. Her fingers ran through it with only minimal effort. She couldn't believe it. Next up was her head. Her hands squished her face into different shapes, her mind still trying to process that the clear skin in front of her was her own. Her hands roamed down the rest of her body, settling on her hips as she admired her figure. It felt so foreign. Like admiring a statue only to realize that the statue was of you. 

Her thoughts on her butt were interrupted by the sound of her phone going off. It wasn't that hard to find and she silently thanked this weird version of herself for keeping the same password that she had. Jenny was distracted for a moment by her background picture. It was a goofy family picture, but it took her a minute to realize it was her family. Her parents had been easy enough to figure out–even with the silvery streaks appearing, they were incapable of not looking massively in love with each other, which was a clear giveaway. She assumed the teenage boy was an older version of her brother, but she couldn't figure out who the little girl was. The figure on the edge of the screen, who seemed halfway between realizing a family picture was being taken and deciding if he should be in it she had an easy time guessing was Gordon, although it looked like he got hit with the older-equals-better-looking stick she has been smacked with. The whole thing made her smile and that smile only grew when she learned that the notification she had been distracted by earlier was a text from her mom wishing her a good day. She was about to text back when a sudden, deathly important thought hit her.

"Oh no!" She yelled, dropping her phone on her bed as she reached for her immaculate hair. "I didn't finish my math homework!"

[061801]

I have a lot on my mind today, I’m sad this is the first thing that actually led me to write cuz i see both sides. I just read a post that could very well be fake; about how they’re gunna teach their kids about pronouns in school. People comment “why does treating people with respect make people so mad?” “Why does being nice to people make people mad?” And one other comment saying how people are uneducated for example “they” pronoun has been used to refer to a single person for a long time now, etc. I do like to challenge my thoughts because to be honest I don’t really know why it annoys me. And when I come up with reasons I feel like I’m exaggerating. So I guess I’m gunna try to sort out my feelings and see if it ends up making sense… do you realize how in depth and challenging catering to every single persons pronouns would be? Imagine a room and every single person has a different pronoun. I’m supposed to remember that? They say just ask, but when you ask more than once after being told you’re usually deemed being disrespectful and that you’re mocking them. Not always but I’ve literally seen it happen with my own eyes. I’m open to that being an isolated experience and that doesn’t speak for the rest of them. Just because I don’t understand something doesn’t mean it’s not real… but I need to listen to an in depth explanation of the feeling you get when you “don’t feel like a girl” or “don’t feel like a boy” or you don’t feel like either, or you feel like both. What does that physically feel like? How do you know what you’re feeling isn’t a feeling of maybe you don’t feel completely human? Or maybe you feel like you have an extra sense… like what helps you determine ahhhh it’s my gender that needs to be addressed. What difference does it make that people call you a they/he/she. If you ask me what makes me want to be a girl rather than a boy, or why I’d get offended if I was called a boy; it’s because I am scientifically a female and have different organs than a boy. So then I know the obvious answer here is; that’s sex not gender. Ok so if I were to call u a boy (cuz u were born a boy) in whatever context it would be, in a genuinely respectful way, not addressing pronouns, why do people get upset about that and try to stray away from the word “boy” then… or when doctors ask what sex you are, you have the option to say something other than M or F when they’re asking your sex, not your gender. Another thing that confuses me that is often contradicted is “I knew I wasn’t a boy because I didn’t like playing with trucks, I liked Barbie’s” or “I didn’t like blue I liked pink”… and then when defending a guy putting on makeup they say “makeup isn’t just for girls, when did objects and colors have sex assigned roles” which I can actually get down with that. I don’t have a problem with a guy doing makeup, it’s just colors on your face. I also wanna say I don’t have a problem with the gender identity thing either it just don’t make no damn sense to me. I’m not gunna go and be mean to anyone like that but just don’t ask me my opinion. This is the part where I feel like I might be exaggerating but look at how complex and detailed this specific topic is, what else are we gunna start telling people we need to educate ourselves on and call things different names and shit. Like we’re gunna have a whole coding system to each individual before we even think about speaking to them so we don’t offend them. It doesn’t really matter, and that speaks for the people who harass these people too. It doesn’t make no sense but I’m not gunna go out of my way to fight with these people. But yeah I guess those are my thoughts

[nachoaveragejoe234]

As a POC (specifically black) with several black, Jewish, Arab, Asian, etc friends, lots of the controversy POC and Jews start over media or cultural things we disagree on, and usually we don't get bothered. It takes a lot to anger us. We don't care if a white person voices a POC, my Jewish friend don't care if a villain has a big nose, she doesn't think having those or having goblins or lizard people even as villains is antisemitic unless the purpose of the creator or producer is clearly to hate Jews (think Nazi propaganda movies, those are actually antisemitic, not Gothel from Tangled or the Wicked Witch of the West or Rothbart and the Fairytopia fungi from Barbie). They don't have a problem with the "Aladdin aesthetic" of genies, flying carpets, and belly dancers. Especially considering it's not supposed to be accurate, it's fantasy, as much as Snow White isn't accurate to German culture because it's also fantasy. Also people forget that Aladdin is a Middle Eastern fairytale. My friends don't give a DAMN if Asian, black, Latina, etc women are femme fatales. Nor if a white person wears our traditional clothing, I love how peoplw whine about appropriation while literally appropriating by wearing modern clothes that were not made by any of our cultures, and are fine with wearing kilts, dirndls, and so on, but clutch their pearls at a (white) person wearing a kimono, sari, sombrero, etc.

And the feminist stuff too.

I don't know about my friends, but I have been bullied by psychos for daring to even imply unbotherdness. I've been called a traitor, told I still don't get it, the "POC who is white in reality" conspiracy theory was thrown at me, I've had a radfem get mad when I made a whole post on Quora about how Disney princesses and dolls are FINE, she accused me of "excusing the patriarchy" (code: traitor, worthless woman).

Fandom Problem #4085:

It's all "respect minorities" until a minority likes something you don't like. I've lost track of the times I've been told I'm brainwashed for being a woman who enjoys drawing pretty dresses and skirts, an asexual who enjoys reading smut, a woman of colour who enjoys old Hollywood movies... Worst part: it's always other women, other queer people, other people of colour being smugly condescending.

[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.

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

God Damn Smile | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: Fluff :)

Time/Era: Modern AU

Word count: 3.7k 

Summary: Edmund reconnects with his childhood best friend, and it makes old, forgotten feelings resurface. 

Request: Hey! Can you write an Edmund x reader based on “A Typical Teenage Love Song” by Tate McRae? It’s fine if you can’t. Tsym in advance!

A/N: This song is so cute :D Ahhh, I love this imagine!!! I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! Thanks for the request :)

masterlist | read on ao3

“No! Don’t step on him!” Five year old Y/N L/N yelled at her friend, Edmund Pevensie. He had his foot raised above a small garden snail, right in the middle of a game of Godzilla. The pair were currently in Y/N’s back garden, playing amongst all the plants. Both children were dressed in brightly colored rain boots and their play clothes to enjoy the rainy weather. 

“It’s just a snail,” Edmund responded, lowering his leg to the ground. Instead of squishing the garden creature, he kneeled down to the ground for a better look. It wasn’t anything special, just a normal garden snail, but it seemed to be rather important to his playmate. 

“He is not just a snail! He is my friend.”

“If he’s your friend, what’s his name then?” Edmund let the small snail crawl up onto his finger before standing upright. 

“Snaily,” Y/N responded, putting her hand out and throwing the teddy bear in her arms to the ground. Edmund placed Snaily on her palm and smiled a toothy smile. This made Y/N grin, putting her hand at eye level. “Thank you for not squashing him.”

“He’s my friend now, too. You don’t squash friends.” 

Y/N nodded in agreement, “You don’t squash friends.” 

~

“Do you remember being a baby?” Edmund asked Y/N. They were now eight and sitting on the Pevensie family swing set, avoiding the youngest Pevensie child, Lucy. Y/N adored Lucy, she thought the girl was adorable, but Edmund insisted the two have “big kid things” to attend to. 

The swing set was old and rickety, as it had been in their family since Edmund’s older brother, Peter was a toddler. The colors were faded, the slide had a large crack in it and Edmund had written his and Y/N’s initials on one of the support beams. “No, am I supposed to?” Y/N answered. She had been last to reach the swings, so she was stuck with the squeaky one. Her face cringed each time the chains made a noise, despite her attempts to stay as still as possible. Y/N brought her hands to the teddy bear on her lap, covering its ears. Having been in the sun all afternoon, the swing was hot on her legs and it stuck uncomfortably to the skin on her thighs. 

“I don’t think so. My parents were looking at our baby books this morning so I was wondering,” 

“My mom has a picture of us when we were three hanging in our living room,” Y/N’s nose wrinkled and she kicked up a small patch of dirt. “We’ve been friends since we were babies. I don’t remember meeting you, though. You were just, there.” 

Edmund laughed, standing so he could lean his stomach against the seat of the swing. He swung on his stomach once before situating back onto his feet. “Our fathers are friends which means we’re friends. That’s just the way the world works.”

“Friends forever, even if one of us moves far far far far away?”

“Friends forever, Y/N.” 

~

“Do you have to go?” Ten-year-old Edmund stood outside of Y/N’s house, holding a box of barbies. Mr. L/N took the box from Ed’s hand and put it in the trunk of his car. 

“It should only be for a few years at most, Ed. I’m getting relocated for work,” Mr. L/N responded, messing the young boy’s hair up with one hand. “We’ll be back. I gave your Dad our new address and you can write to Y/N to your heart’s content.”

When Y/N joined them at the car, backpack slung across her shoulder and her favorite teddybear hugged between her arms, tears were rolling down her face. 

“I don’t want to go, please don’t make me!” She cried, holding to her teddy to her chest. Her face was scarlet and her mouth was etched into a frown. 

“You can stay with us!” Edmund offered, his own tears starting to roll down his face. Y/N was more than just his playmate, she was his best friend. They had spent the last seven years of their life seeing eachother almost daily, and now all of that was going to come to a sudden halt. 

“That’s sweet of you, buddy, but I think her mother and I would miss her too much,” Mr. L/N smiled down at the two before walking to the front of the car where his wife was talking to Helen Pevensie. 

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Edmund sniffled. “I’m going to miss you. I have no one to play on the swings with!”

“You can play with Lucy.” Edmund made a face at this suggestion, making Y/N sadly giggle. “Or Peter.”

“No, Lucy cries too much and Peter always kicks sand in my eyes.” 

A thoughtful look came over Y/N’s face and she looked down at the plush in her arms. After a small moment of what looked like intense thought, she held her teddy out towards Edmund. 

“Here, Ed, now you can have a friend!” Edmund hesitantly took the bear from Y/N’s hands and looked down at it. It was obvious Y/N really loved that thing because it was a bit raggedy and one of the brown button eyes was replaced with a bright green one. “Teddy likes it better here, anyway. You can take care of him.” 

Y/N awkwardly gripped her upper arm with her hand, swaying on her heels. Edmund hugged it to him and nodded stiffly. “He’s in good hands. I will protect him with my life.”

Both kids laughed and embraced before Y/N was whisked into the car. 

~

Dear Y/N, 

Happy 12th birthday! I’m sad I couldn’t be there for it, but I hope your cake was yummy. The picture my mum showed me looked absolutely delicious. She also said you took up archery at your new school! My school doesn’t offer that, so I thought that was cool. Did you shoot anything? I know you are too nice to shoot any animals but I never know with you. ;) I hung out with this girl in my English class the other day, she reminded me of you. She had long brown hair and blue eyes and a laugh that sounds like yours. She wasn’t as fun as you, though. I think she wants me to be her boyfriend. I’m not sure if I want to be her boyfriend. She kept trying to hold my hand. Her hand was sweaty. And she kept saying I have a cute smile. I don’t know how a smile can be cute? Teeth are weird. Peter said that was her way of trying to flirt with me. Do you flirt with boys at your school? What do you say?

Maybe we can play Minecraft together again soon. Last time we played I had a great time. Have your mom text mine and we can try to schedule something. I want a phone, it would be easier to talk to you.

I attached a picture of me and Teddy at the park. He misses you almost as much as I do.

I’ll be waiting for your response, 

Ed

.

Ed, 

Thank you for the birthday wishes. :D The cake was delicious, I wish you could have tried it!!! And to answer your question, yes, but I’ve only ever shot targets. It’s against school rules to shoot anything other than them. Sort of a bummer, though. 

Your not-girlfriend sounds nice. I agree with her, your smile is very nice. You always look so happy when you smile, especially when your eyes light up. 

I don’t really flirt with boys, boys are kinda gross. Not you of course, but the guys at my school. There is this one guy named Ethan who is kinda cute. He wouldn’t want to be my boyfriend though. My friend always talks about kissing him. I want to kiss someone...have you ever kissed a girl? 

My mum said I can get a phone when I turn 14. Then, we can text and call whenever we want! I miss you. How’s teddy? He looks so happy in that picture. I hung it on my bulletin board. 

Respond quicker this time, will ya?

Y/N

~

EDMUND!!!

I’M HAVING A CRISIS AT THE RIPE OLD AGE OF 13! Remember that boy, Ethan? Well, apparently he has a big crush on me. That’s fine, he’s cute and everything, but my friend has a big crush on him. I guess it’s like friendship code to not date him? I feel bad rejecting him. I kinda have a crush on someone already. I know he doesn’t like me though. 

Are you still dating that one girl? In your last letter, you said you were gonna break up with her. How’d that go? Did she cry? Did you cry? I hope you didn’t. I don’t like it when you cry. It makes me sad. 

Can you believe we’re teenagers now? It seems like just yesterday I was handing you Teddy and crying in the car for an hour. I hope we come back soon. But hey! I’m almost 14, which means I’ll be getting a cell phone. Maybe if I have a phone my mum can convince yours to get you one. 

I miss you, Ed. I hope to be back soon. 

Y/N. 

.

Y/N!!!!

I’m not sure if that really counts as a crisis, but okay. If you don’t like him, don’t date him. That’s why I broke up with mine. I discovered I kind of like someone else, so I broke up with her. And no, I didn’t cry. If felt like a relief more than anything. Let me know how the “crisis” turns out. 

I can’t wait until I get a phone. My entire grade has one, and so do Susan and Peter. I feel kind of left out, having to write letters when I want to talk to someone. It’s always fun when I get them, though. 

If I have to hear Stitches by Shawn Mendes one more time, my head is going to explode!!!! Susan keeps playing it on repeat. I tried to turn it off earlier and she almost broke my arm. Why are siblings so mean? Or are mine just weird? You’re lucky you’re an only child. I miss you too, Y/N. If you were here life would be so much easier. 

Edmund

~

“Edmund, you got a letter,” Lucy says, dropping the envelope on his desk. He was working on college applications, typing away on his laptop, and looking grumpy. Music blasted through his speakers as he worked. 

“I didn’t order anything?” He grunted in response, not taking his eyes off of the screen. 

“It’s from the girl you’re basically in love with, I think. It has her name on it.” Edmund looked at the envelope with scrunched eyebrows. Sure enough, it had her name and address written on the front in her familiar handwriting. His heart rate sped up while he gently (and shakily) broke the paper seal. Why didn’t she just text him? 

Hey, Edmund,

I know we haven’t talked since we were like 15 and I could have just texted you, but this seemed more nostalgic and romantic in a way. You know how I tend to romanticize everything. 

Anyway, I wanted to let you know we’re moving back for Senior year, crazily enough. A few years my ass, huh? We’ll be back on the 14th, so get ready for chaos. 

Seriously, I’m looking forward to seeing you outside of Instagram again. You don’t have to come see me if you don’t want to, I know it might be a bit awkward, but I’d really like it if you did. My address is 1014 Swanwhite Lane. Come stop by if you feel like it. 

I do miss you. Judging by your social media, you’re doing well. I’m happy to hear that. 

Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.

Y/N

“Oh my god, she’s coming back,” Edmund says, gripping the thin paper in between his thumb and middle finger. “What’s the date?” 

Lucy pulled her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it, “The 28th. Why?”

“She got back the 14th! She’s been back for ages and I had no idea, oh my god!” 

“Well, are you going to go see her? You lost your chance to sweep her off her feet by waiting for her to arrive.”

“Sweep her off her feet?” Lucy rolled her eyes and hit him with the rest of the family’s mail. 

“Don’t play stupid. I’ve heard you and Peter talking.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes skimmed the letter again. Lucy snatched it from his fingers and hit him with it. 

“Don’t know what I’m talking about? Really, Ed? The whole ‘I’ve been in love with her since I was 8 years old’ thing you told Pete? You don’t recall? Or the fact you have her post notifications on?” Lucy read the letter herself. “She wants to see you! Come on, this is your chance. You haven’t even looked at a girl since you were like 13.” 

“I’ve been focusing on school. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s a Friday night in the middle of August and you’re getting a head start on college applications. Ed, go see the girl.” 

“Mum will never let me,” Lucy held up one finger and left the room. After about 5 minutes, she returned and held his coat out to him. 

“She said to go have fun. Here, it might be chilly.” Edmund sighed and took his jacket. The corduroy felt soft under his fingers as he slid it on. 

“You don’t have to be so pushy, Lu.” 

Lucy smiled, “It’s only because I love you. Besides, if I didn’t push you, you wouldn’t go.”

~

Edmund sat on the curb across the street and looked up at Y/N’s house. It was well past 11 at this point and only one light in the house was on. Hopefully, it was Y/N’s. 

He awkwardly thumbed through his contacts before pulling up Y/N’s. The last text was on his birthday, a simple two message conversation consisting of “Happy Birthday!” and “Thanks!”

Look outside 

He watched nervously as his message went from delivered to read, but no typing bubble popped up. Edmund sighed and stood, shoving his phone into his jacket pocket and walking towards the house. Sure enough, the front door opened and a grown-up Y/N stepped out. She was still dressed, but her shoes were off and her hair was tied back. Edmund smiled at her mismatched socks, old habits die hard apparently. 

“I thought you were never going to come and see me,” Her voice was like honey. 

“I just got the letter today, so blame the postal service. Not me.” The two walked to the curb and sat down. 

“Well, I’m glad you still came. I was expecting you to wimp out.”

“Wimp out?! Why would I do that?” 

Y/N let out a forced chuckle and looked at the pavement. “Because you stopped answering my texts and calls.” She crossed her arms across her body and shivered. She was only wearing a short-sleeve shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. “But I get it, life gets in the way sometimes.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Are you cold?” Without waiting for an answer, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it across Y/N’s shoulders. It smelled like spearmint gum and pine. 

Y/N let out a real chuckle this time. “Smooth, Ed. Very cheesy.” 

“I will happily take it back.” 

“Please don’t, this is the closest I’ve been to you in years.” Her fingers gripped the material and closed it around her torso. She scooted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. Edmund didn’t quite know what to do. “I missed you, Edmund. It’s so nice to see you again.” 

“I missed you too. Your return is a few years late.” His chest vibrated with a snicker. 

“I know, but I’m back now.” A moment of silence filled the air as the two tried to grow more comfortable in the familiar company. 

“I used to dream about sitting with you like this, you know,” Edmund said before he could stop himself. 

“You did?”

“Yeah, I used to picture us in all sorts of situations, but most of them were small things like this.” 

“But not anymore?”

Edmund sighed, laying his head on top of hers. His hair tickled Y/N’s forehead. “I figured you moved on from me.”

“Moved on? What do you mean?”

“I mean, you have so many friends and a new life… and we stopped texting as often. I don’t know, I thought you, maybe, outgrew me.” 

Y/N played with the zipper on Edmund’s jacket, making a small clicking noise fill the air. “I never outgrew you, Ed. In fact, a day didn’t go by that I didn’t wish I was here with you.” 

“I don’t see why. You had so many friends and such an exciting life. I’m rather dull in comparison.”

“You’re definitely not dull. And it doesn’t matter how many friends it seems like I have, you’re the only one I consider a best friend. I should have reached out more, maybe I could have had a better year.” 

Edmund shifted so he could wrap an arm around her waist. “Did you have a bad year?”

“Yeah, that’s sort of why we came back. But, I mean, I’m here with you, so everything has a bright side.” 

Edmund grinned and tightened his grip. “That’s one of the things I love most about you. You can always see the positives in everything.” Y/N pulled back and looked at his face. 

“I love it when you smile,” Y/N commented. “I could spend hours staring at that god damn smile.” Edmund’s cheeks reddened and his smile grew bigger. 

“Why don’t you, then? Stay with me for hours, I mean.” 

“I will if you let me, Pevensie.” 

Edmund sniffed once. 

“Did you ever end up dating that guy from your Chemistry class?” Edmund asks, studying the side of her face. His eyes scanned over her skin, admiring how soft it looked. 

“No, I’ve been in love with someone else for quite some time.” 

“What a lucky guy, then.” Edmund’s voice was only a bit louder than a mumble as he turned his head away from her. 

“Yeah, I guess he is. I’ve known him since I was really young.” 

“How’d you meet him?” Every word felt like a dagger into his stomach. 

“I don’t remember, he was always just there. Our dads were friends so we were friends. That’s just how the world works.” Edmund took his hand off of Y/N and placed it in his lap. 

“Oh, I see.” 

“Yeah, he’s super cute. He’s really smart, too, but kinda oblivious.”  

“Wow, he sounds great, Y/N. I’m so happy for you.” Each word sounded like he was choking them out. He stopped listening a few responses ago, but he still wanted to support her. No matter how hurt he felt, he was still her friend. 

“He’s the best person I’ve ever met, if I’m being quite honest. He can be a bit of an ass though.”

“What’s his name?” 

“You might know him,” Y/N tucked her hands into her sleeves before continuing. “His name is Edmund Pevensie.” 

“Wow, what a cool- wait what?” Y/N giggled at the look on his face. His eyebrows were lifted and his mouth was open slightly. 

“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe you’ve met him.” 

“You’ve been in love with me?” 

“Been and am, darling. God, when I got your text tonight my heart almost stopped.” Edmund was speechless, he couldn’t believe the girl he had been in love with for so long felt the same way. “Of course it’s okay if you don’t feel the same-”

“-No! I’m just shocked. I can’t believe this. I have loved you since we were little, I feel like I’m dreaming.” He couldn’t help but let the smile engulf his face, making his freckles stand out against his red cheeks. This was not what he was expecting when he had walked to her house. 

“There’s that handsome smile I love to see.” 

“So, you were waiting for me?” 

“Just like you were waiting for me. Lucy texted me about six months ago about how you never show any interest when she tries to set you up with girls. Now is just our time, unless you aren’t going to show interest in me.” 

“When did you get so sassy?” Edmund turned so he was facing her straight on. 

“When did you get so flust-” She was cut off mid-word by his warm lips being pressed against hers. He tasted like licorice and mint, and Y/N instantly got intoxicated off of his lips. Both parties had dreamed about this moment for years, so now that it was happening, it left them both feeling light-headed. Edmund pulled back and smirked. 

“Who’s the flustered one now?” He asks, hand cupping her cheek. 

“Does this mean you’re finally mine?”

“Y/N, I’ve always been yours. Hell, I’ll always be yours.” 

Edmund made a face as if he remembered something and reached into his backpack, “By the way, I’m not the only one who missed you.” He placed a very old teddy bear in his lover’s lap. 

He had raggedy fur and one green eye. 

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Ep. 10

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here. Also, people stay spoiling this show for me in their reblog tags on my posts, so I know Charles and Jeffrey made a dumb plan but I have no idea what it includes beyond Jeffrey going to Big Red's.

Hand over heart, I think Sonic is really pretty, which is why I haven't fully thought he is a baddie, but I need a reason for him refusing to wear blue! North gets it together every now and then, but Sonic? Boy, quit relying on that face and follow the damn color assignment!

I'm missing something but I thought Charles and Barbara were fine yet here they are fighting, but Charles spidey sense is tingling, so something bad is gonna happen or will he have sex with Barbara like they did last week? And now the glasses are off! They better not have sex on this track.

Barbara is racing?! Dean was racing last week! Was Dean informed of this plot twist? Did Barbara get healed having sex with Charles last week?

You can take the red off the boy but you can't take the red out of the boy. You are acting so sus, Jeffrey! You had a full conversation with Charles and now you are just lurking in the background. Someone spoiled that he and Charles made a plan, but if the plan is murder, he is already failing at not being suspicious.

Another hand-over-heart moment, I have no effin' idea what happened on that race track because there was so many blues then a car went off the track, and I had no real idea who it was, but I do know JEFFREY HAS SOME EXPLAINING TO DO with his suspicious ass!

Big Red lives in the same place he has his cult meetings to show off his superpowered kids? Isn't there a rule of not having cult meetings where you spray your EIGHTY MILLION BONSAI TREES! That seems dumb and contradictory, but I'm not a mega villain so what do I know?

Red is usually an emergency room color, but the red yelling at me as Barbie feels all the bad things that happen in an emergency room is a lot. Charles isn't dead because color-coded boys in love get happy endings, but Barbie is probably feeling everything right now and it probably sucks.

"Don't be suspicious. Don't be suspicious." Jeffrey, you need to make out with Alan quickly to prove you're gay, because you canNOT do crimes, and are about to be in Kentana territory again. Whatever you and Charles planned, it was dumb and Barbie is now crying.

KENTANA! Are you in on this too?!

*Record scratch* Jeffrey went back to Big Red's with the dumb plan he and Charles cooked up involving Charles dying, yes? Yes! Kentana, as Big Red's whatever-he-is, knows of the plan, SO WHY IS HE BEING BEAT UP?! Kentana, break Kimberly out and run away to the beach together. Big Red doesn't even wear red! HE SUCKS! Leave!

Stuck between the blue and the red, I see. A choice has gotta be made, Kentucky Fried Chicken. Wings or Thighs? Legs are not an option. Legs are reserved for the elite squad of Peter, Alan, and Kimberly. You don't get legs! (WHERE IS KIMBERLY?!)

Barbie woke up in black. He has no man, but he has his powers, so either he is about to enter his rich widow era or he is going to go Kill Bill on these bitches.

Horrible take. Awful take. The WORST take, but . . . if Waymond didn't decide to be bad, he would have been the perfect person to comfort Babe and ease Barbie's pain, pero . . . he had to be a little bitch instead.

Oh, NOW you wanna follow the color assignment, Sonic. NOW?!

Well, Jeffrey picked up your mantle with his not-all-black outfit and bright ass white-wrapped flowers. This isn't a wedding, Jeffrey! IT'S A FUNERAL! Jeffrey, a note from The Sign's Dr. Chalothon - FAKE IT! Sir, that empty grave is supposed to be your roommate and partner-in-dumb-crime, yet I haven't seen one single tear from someone who just lost their buddy. You're more sus than the entire cast of Dead Friend Forever. How does Barbara not suspect your ass with his spidey senses?!

Damn you, Saltburn!

KIMBERLY! AND HE'S IN BLUE! *sliding down the wall and sobbing on the floor* MY BABY HAS RETURNED!

Wait! Pause! *squints* Why did Jeffrey bring Kim? And why to Alan's house? What in the Chuck E. Cheese is happening?!

Alan, Jeffrey's roommate is quote-unquote "dead" yet you are living your best life. Can you try to be sad too or are you in on this plan and this is why Kimberly is now looking beautiful on your couch?

The blue is between y'all, but just like Charles and Barbara having sex on every surface when Kimberly was being held hostage, do y'all have no shame? Making heart eyes at each other immediately after burying an empty coffin that was supposed to be Charles. Shame! At least pretend that Charles is dead! Or fill Barbie in on this dumb plan.

Vegas' Hedgehog, you pretty bitch. I hate you.

Barbie is watching the crash, and Jeffrey and Alan are playing footsie over Charles' quote-unquote "grave." But I already know I'm more upset for Barbie than he will be for himself because he'll forgive everyone for this bullshit lie in less than two minutes.

Does Barbara think Waymond killed Charles?! He might be shitty, but he is backed by the blue. He ain't guilty! Go speak to your boyfriend's roommate and his new boyfriend, Barbie!

Oh shit! I wasn't expecting you to actually go talk to them! Hold up! Is that blue on Jeffrey?! Does he actually not have anything to do with Charlie's quote-unquote "death"?

SONIC IS WEARING BLUE IN THE BACKGROUND!

Like I know shit is going down right now because Decanus sabotaged ANOTHER car *Pikachu face* but I don't think he is in on the dumb plan to "kill" Charles so . . . Kimberly wore blue this episode and Sonic is wearing blue (even though I think there is a shimmer of red there), and I'm crying in the club because this is all I wanted, and sorry to all of y'all, but the show could end right here, and I'd be happy.

Oh no. My man is crying. I am no longer happy. I am in pain. Why is he crying so hard? Was Dean his best friend? His brother? This feels personal. Jeffrey, come give our man a hug! Right now! RIGHT FUCKING NOW, JEFFREY!

Seeing Alan cry hurt way worse than anything else that happened. Charles isn't dead, so I'm just upset that Barbie has to cry and more upset that Barbara is going to be cool with whatever dumb plan Charles made without telling him, but Alan's tears were unexpected.

However, Sonic is back on his bullshit next week, so I can't stay in my feels too long.

And I get to see Peter while someone fully commits to the blue.

Oh, and we get to see the dumb-plan-that-made-Barbie-cry in more detail. *Arthur fist* Be upset at Charles for just one episode, Barbara. Just one damn episode, please. He didn't try to assault you like Waymond, but Charles has played with your emotions several times, and I just need you to knock 👏🏾 his 👏🏾 ass 👏🏾 out 👏🏾 too 👏🏾.

[pisspope]

oh fuck yeah thanks for the tag mae!!!

real zeke hours (there are no other hours in this nightmare house)

1. Who is the better cook?

zeke, but it's a thin fucking margin. he can cook like 5 specific dishes really really well but if you ask for anything else you're SOL. It's all very 1950s housewife recipes too; meatloaf that he will not make unless you call it zekeloaf, pasta salads, anything that involves hot dogs he tends to be good at? very much a mixed bag of just carb loaded dishes.

2. Who takes longer showers?

me! no contest I'd be in there all day if I could. make the conscious choice to not buy an in-house water heater because otherwise I'd never leave.

3. Who is more organized?

uh... our house always looks like a bomb went off. both super meticulous about specific things but can't get basic house organization done for shit. bookshelves are in alphabetical order and pokemon and baseball cards are arranged in extremely specific folders but neither of us will clean up the dresser in the entryway lmao

4. Who generally spends more money?

eh zeke spends more in dollar amount but I spend a higher percentage of my paycheck. so if you're asking who's worse with money, it's me. if it's who just spends more in plain numbers, it's zeke.

5. Who likes sleeping in more?

both!! the world outside the bed does not exist on sundays sorry. both actively unreligious but u will pry the day of rest from our cold dead hands

6. Who is the better driver?

zeke! by leaps and bounds I can barely drive a barbie jeep. in some aus he even has his CDL (he's snippy bus driver coded 2 me)

7. Who is the most stubborn?

..... sometimes two gifted kids fall in love what can I say. relationship based on a mutual need to be the smartest and rightest person in the room. we are mule coded

8. Who is the most romantic?

hrm... zeke, I think?? neither of us are big on broad gestures. but he's the one to always drop pet names in a teasing way and have spur of the moment date ideas. I am literally just standing there trying to suss out a vibe by asking him if he wants to play guitar hero on the Nintendo Wii

9. Who is more laid back?

me? zeke asks cool in public but is actually shaking like a leaf underneath. 100% has that marijuana medical card in his wallet cause boy needs to chill the fuck out. I am not cool and chill but in terms of sheer percentages I'm def more relaxed.

10. Who is more likely to ask for directions?

me but that's bc I like to flirt with the older gas station owner to get under zekes skin. we use our phones we're not savages we have technology. "but what if there's no signal???" map under the dash. obvi.

11. Who is the blanket hog?

me which is fine by zeke since he runs hot anyway

12. Who is more likely to lose their phone?

zeke bc mine is glued to my hand,,, def have arguments along the lines of "bc ur always on that damn phone" "oh my god ur literally 60 please just finish your crossword"

13. Who initiated the first kiss?

I think him? in most aus it's him I'm a closeted jane austen hopeless romantic i need the big bad monkey man to be soft 4 me

14. Who fell in love first?

love at first sight for both of us but we're stupid so. if u wanna get technical he saw me probably 15 seconds before I saw him. although in canon universe he falls first bc we're from ~different worlds~ or whatever

15. Who planned the honeymoon?

zeke because I planned the wedding. it's a trust exercise. I fear for my life.

I'll tag @lemmetreatya @strawberrystepmom @ch-4-s-3 anddd @angelktski (no pressure obvi)

You or them self ship!

Based off questions from the bride and groom game at bridal showers and the shoe game at weddings.

It's been forever since we've done a proper self ship post! Here we go! Elaborate away if you want :)

1 Who is the better cook?

2 Who takes longer showers?

3 Who is more organized?

4 Who generally spends more money?

5 Who likes sleeping in more?

6 Who is the better driver?

7 Who is the most stubborn?

8 Who is the most romantic?

9 Who is more laid back?

10 Who is more likely to ask for directions?

11 Who is the blanket hog?

12 Who is more likely to lose their phone?

13 Who initiated the first kiss?

14 Who fell in love first?

15 Who planned the honeymoon?

tagging! anyone who wants to do this, and @levi-supreme @chaotic-on-main @charlotteplsdosth @theferricfox @happybird16 @mootheskinnycowsblog @levisbrat25 @humanities-strongest-blog @hauntedhousecat @sckerman @the-milk-anon

Let me know if you want more like this. More questions, less? My answers below!

Going with my modern day SS Jean! And if I had done any of these in the past and changed my answers, never mind LOL

1 Who is the better cook?

*Sigh* Him. His mom is an amazing cook and he learned from her. I bake better though!

2 Who takes longer showers?

Me. My hair is longer and I like to stand there and think haha

3 Who is more organized?

Meeeee!! A place for everything please! He doesn't care quite as much.

4 Who generally spends more money?

Probably me. I do more food shopping and go on random splurging. He can do it too sometimes though.

5 Who likes sleeping in more?

Him. Though it's close. I get in a pattern of waking up early but he can sleep later on weekends.

6 Who is the better driver?

Him. Better because I make him drive everywhere. He doesn't usually have road rage and is much better on the highway.

7 Who is the most stubborn?

Wow that's hard. Um, me. But only by half a perfect.

8 Who is the most romantic?

Him. He loves cuddles and pet names and I don't think about it as much. Oops.

9 Who is more laid back?

Me. I really try not to stress and more things bother him.

10 Who is more likely to ask for directions?

Me. I don't want to get lost. Unless we're at a grocery store then it's him cause I don't want to bother the employees.

11 Who is the blanket hog?

Me. Even though I get hot I like the sheet and he's usually warmer than I am.

12 Who is more likely to lose their phone?

Him. He'll just set it down and get distracted and make me call him to find it.

13 Who initiated the first kiss?

Him. We were both nervous but he went for a sweet goodnight kiss finally :)

14 Who fell in love first?

Him. That's what he says anyway. I was in like but very unsure and he was VERY sure.

15 Who planned the honeymoon?

Me! With his help though, but he let me make most the decisions.

[selene-tempest]

I just woke up from a dream and I'm not happy. You know as well as I do that you cannot mix my husband and a social situation, it's not a good thing , it's gonna end in disaster. It did here too.

In my dream I had to leave a social occasion (which I do believe was some kind of vlogger/ film festival) because I had an emergency, and promised to be right back as soon as I could.

Upon returning a few dream hours later darling husband was nowhere to be seen, one darling brother-in-law was trying to fix someone's broken tripod (yes I'm looking at you, Virgil) another was in the middle of an interview (seriously Gordon?) and another was standing off to the side, glaring.

I went over to see why said darling brother-in-law/best friend was glaring and to ask where the darling husband was.

Me: Why are you pissy? And Where's John?

Scott : Shit, you're back!

Me: That's a suspicious greeting right there. Why shouldn't I be back?

Scott : *shiftily * No reason

Me: *narrows eyes* Where's John?

Scott : Why don't we go and get a drink? Cat, shall we get a drink with Sel?

Me: I don't want a drink and I don't trust you. What's going on? Did something happen?

Scott : No…

Me: *hands on hips* Spill it!

Scott : One of his old college buddies is here, they are covering the event for a magazine.

Me: What's the problem with that? *shifty Scott is a thing again* Where is he?

Scott : You don't wanna go ov-

Me: *death stare*

Scott : *wilts and points*

Me: *stomps over to see some blonde hussy in a halter top straining over obviously enhanced jugs, snuggle so close to my man she's practically straddling him and she's taking pictures and selfies, he is doing absolutely nothing about it because this appears to be his college buddy.

Me: *glare goes nuclear as it targets this bleached interloper before I force a sweet smile on my face and turn to darling husband: Hi, can you possibly spare me a moment? *me, sarcastic and passive aggressive? Never!*

Her, the bleached one with the boobs: Do you mind? We're trying to have a private conversation here, neither of us have any time to deal with fans. Honestly, we can't enjoy ourselves anywhere these days.

John: No, it's OK this-

B+B(bleach and boobs) : No, you're off duty, don't let them pressure you into giving them time by making you feel guilty, you don't owe them anything.

Me: I think you're misunderstanding, I'm not looking for a-

B+B: No, you're misunderstanding, can't you see that we're busy and that you need to go away? *drops a possessive, red clawed hand on his shoulder and leans closer.*

John: *clearly stuck between not wanting to offend his friend but also waiting for me to explode and take her down. He gets the one eyebrow raise of impending doom warning* Maddie, its fine, this is-

B+B: *puts a finger to his lips to silence him then glares at me* You're interrupting, go away.

Me: *dream me is apparently a lot more chilled than awake me, because dream me just snaps out* Fine, I guess I'll leave you alone then.

Me: *stomps off* I need a freaking drink!

Cat: *hurries over * Did you kill her? Did you save him?

Me: *glances over at the clinging vine my not-so-darling husband seems to have acquired* Let him perish. I'm getting a drink, are you in or out?

Cat: In! *trots after me*

Me: *is searching out one, very specific drink* ha! Got it. *enters the bar and orders a blue and red mix vodka slushie (I don't even know if this is a thing in the real world but it soooo should be)*

Cat: *is not brave enough to order the same, gets a vodka and diet coke, the wimp*

Me: *gulps down three large slurps on my straw, immediately gets brain freeze, isn't sure if that's preferable really*

Cat: *leaving me to it to scroll on her phone*

Me: *brain slightly defrosted* So, who's the bitch?

Cat: Madeline Carmichael-Parks (dream me makes up the best names apparently) went to college with Penny and John.

Me: *huffs at her stupid name* I don't trust people with two names.

Cat: Creighton-ward?

Me: *scowls* she's on the list of people I'm keeping my eye on (I have no idea what I'm talking about here)

Cat: I won't tell her you said tha- oh…

Me: *instantly suspicious* Oh, what?

Cat: Nothing *tries to hide her phone*

Me: Spill it!

Cat: *sighs and turns her phone to show Instagram and the bleached with boobs trollop snuggled faaarrrr too closely to my never-going-to-be-darling-again husband. The caption reads "My gorgeous date and I are enjoying ourselves at the vloggies" Urge to kill, rising*

Me: Right.

Cat: I'm sure it's nothing, you know it's noth-

Ted flap further down the bar opens, a familiar redhead ducks in, I immediately grab my drink and leave. Not in the mood for this shit apparently. I stomp my way down the street, weaving between festival goers. I have no idea if I left Cat behind, if she's following, if she got caught by said redhead, it's every woman for herself right now.

Random Brunette: Hey, sweetie, you OK?

Me: Yep

Random redhead friend : You don't look it.

Me: I'm fine. I just came back to find my husband being groped by another woman.

Girls gasp: He's cheating on you?!

Me: *snorts and slurps rapidly melting drink* Nah, he'd never do that, and my best friend would never allow it even if he wanted to, which he wouldn't.

Girls: *stunned silence, clearly confused*

Me: *sucks madly on the straw* She was all over him, I was polite, she wasn't. Girl code.

Girls: *both nod, totally understanding*

Me: He didn't stop her, so now I'm pissed at him.

Girls: *nod again*

Me: Then she shared a selfie and called him her date.

Girls: *gasps all round*

Me: It was leave to get a drink or murder, those were my choices.

Girls: *sees empty drink in my hand*

Me: I did not choose death this day. *finds drink empty, knows it's probably not safe to go back for another, pouts mildly for a second before deciding a slice of pizza might be better* Yeah, I'm off, later ladies.

Girls wave goodbye. I continue my stomping towards a pizza stall ( there seems to be a lot of food in this dream, maybe I was hungry).

Arms grab me from behind. I scream. Three dudes turn around to see if I'm OK.

John: *patiently* Stop screaming, Sel.

Me: No. *screams again just to be petulant*

Dude 1: Is this guy bothering you?

Me: Yes, he's my husband and he's an idiot who is trying to be cute and adorable when I'm angry at him.

John: *snigger quietly, which was a bad move.*

Dude 2: Want me to kick his ass?

Me: No, I can do that myself.

John : *clearly rolling his eyes behind my back* Whatever you're thinking happened you know it didn't.

Dude Three: *cracks knuckles*

Me: So I didn't see some blown up Barbie hanging all over you, being rude to me and claiming you as her own?

Dudes: *all wince and suck air through their teeth in sympathy, for who I don't know.*

John: I tried to tell her I was married but she never listens and-

Dude Three: Not helping yourself here, my man.

Dude Two: You don't admit to cheating, that's just stupid.

Me: *suddenly defensive of dumbass husband * Hey! Who said anything about cheating? He'd never do that, I was pissed off that a socialite with the IQ of a bean sprout judged me and dismissed me away from my own husband and this idiot did sod all about it.

John : I was about to, but you always tell me you can fight your own battles and I didn't want to undermine you. *hugs me tighter because he totally knows he's getting away with this. Unfortunately I know it too.*

Me: *smacks at his hand* Go away, I'm mad at you and I'm staying mad.

John : No you're not *kisses my neck*

Me: Yes I am. *promptly forces myself to wake up because I I'm that damned stubborn and I will have the last word *

I woke up to dumbass husband snuggled up to my back, snoring lightly in my ear, all innocent and unaware of just what his dream self was putting me through. How dare he!

So I got out of bed and stole his dressing gown, went to the kitchen and bitched to Virgil about my dream. He was very unsympathetic quite honestly and undeserving of the coffee I made him.

John woke up an hour later but I'm still not talking to him. He has no idea what he's done.

Virgil told him he pissed me off in my dream and John just looked at me with a very judging look in his eyes like I was totally mad.

I'm still waiting for an apology…

[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.