#the point where he throws his arm up in the air like a lil drama queen

[cosmogyros]

I'm sorry but I'm now going to be obsessed with this cutie-fucking-pie for *checks watch* the next 95 years

[spencersawkward]

hi i love your writing sm, could u do something w having sex w mgg in his trailer🦋

oh yes i can most definitely do that. i just did a blurb that included something similar but i have a whole other fantasy for this one that i think would be so hot. this is just like filthy smut i might have done a lil too much lol.

summary: reader goes to visit her friend, Matthew, on set. when he catches her doing something dirty in his trailer, he offers to help.

word count: 4.2k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, masturbation, dirty talk, face-sitting, degradation, Cocky Matthew, some semi-exhibitionism.

masterlist

my toes curl over the sheets and I let out a dissatisfied groan as I throw the abandoned vibrator onto the side table. ever since flying home from visiting friends in New York, I’ve been absolutely, embarrassingly... horny.

usually, my trusty toy is able to work wonders; this week has been rough, though. maybe it’s something to do with my stress-levels or maybe my body just doesn’t feel like cooperating. it doesn’t help that I have about an hour before I’m scheduled to visit my friend on the set of his show.

I haven’t seen Matthew in almost a year. between his shooting schedule and my own job getting more demanding, spending time together really hasn’t been possible. I miss his laugh and the way our conversations always flow so easily. whenever we hang out, it’s like we pick up right where we left off. and now, as I give up on trying to get one off before seeing him, I start to wonder what to expect. a tour? meeting his castmates?

to be completely honest, I don’t really want to do any of that. I’m sure they’re all very nice people and we’d have a good time, but the last week in the city was so full of group interactions that I’m really hoping to sit across from each other and just... talk.

there’s no point in speculating, though. instead, I glance over at my disappointing toy and sigh. maybe next time.

when I get there, Matthew texts me to wait for him so he can bring me to his trailer. everyone is bustling around, moving according to their own chaotic schedules. a couple golf carts occasionally roll through the space, toting actors and other personnel. it’d be overwhelming for anyone who isn’t used to it.

“Y/N!” Matthew’s voice cuts across the din of the set as he waves. he’s leaning out of the side of a golf cart that he’s driving, which makes me nervous as he pulls up to me. I raise my eyebrows in surprise as he stops the cart and hops out to wrap me in a hug.

he smells good, like expensive cologne and cool air. as he withdraws, he sets his hands on my shoulders and grins at me.

“you look great! how are you?” as usual, he’s talkative. I smile back, though, and take in his appearance. he’s always been handsome, but right now Matthew is looking especially good: the breeze has swept his curls, he’s got on a colorful button-up short-sleeve with parakeets on it, and there’s some stubble growing on his face that’s new. he looks older, more mature.

kind of sexy.

“I’m really well. cool ride you’ve got.” I nod to the golf cart and Matthew laughs.

“you wanna know a secret?” he smirks. I raise my eyebrows and he leans down a little to reach my height. “I’m not supposed to drive that.”

“how’d you get it?” I frown. knowing him, he probably managed to charm his way around the rules, but I’m sure there’s a funny story behind it as well. he’s full of weird anecdotes.

“one of my cast mates distracted the guy who runs the warehouse where they keep them.” he winks, then gestures for me to follow him. I slide into the passenger seat and before I can really process what’s happening, he’s swerving in a wide circle and speeding off.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he practically yells over the sound of the motor. “but I know you’ve been busy.”

“yeah, I actually just started writing for this new show.”

“you’re downtown, then?” he glances over with a smile and then we’re slowing to a stop. an enormous trailer sits among rows of other enormous trailers, presumably for his cast mates. he turns off the cart and turns his body to face me while I talk. zeroes in on me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

“for right now, yeah.” I can’t help the smile. it’s been a while since I’ve worked in Los Angeles; I was working as a writer on one of Matthew’s independent films when I got an offer in New York and decided to relocate. and even though it was amazing there, I missed California sunshine and I missed him. we were inseparable before I left.

“so, what I’m hearing is that you’re now legally bound to hang out with me.” he grins in that dazzling way of his. I laugh and nod, climbing out when he does. he opens the trailer door for me. “I have to go back to work in about twenty minutes, but afterwards I wanna take you to dinner.”

“oh, I could have come later. I’m sorry.” I turn to apologize, but he’s quick to wave it off.

“it’s fine. as long as you don’t mind spending an hour in here, it shouldn’t be too torturous.”

I peer around the space, noticing the little ways in which Matthew has made this place his own: aside from all the complimentary gift baskets and notes, the trailer is occupied by strange trinkets that he’s collected, random books and notebooks that scatter the couch and what looks like an attempt at a desk.

“wow.” I say. he sidles up next to me, sighing and realizing that it’s a bit cluttered.

“sorry about the mess. I haven’t really had time to clean up.”

“no, no, I meant ‘wow’ in a good way.” I walk over to the couch and sit down, patting the spot next to me. he smiles, pushes an acting theory book out of the way, and sinks into the cushions a safe distance from me.

“tell me about this job, then.” he immediately starts. I shrug.

“it’s nothing huge, just a teen drama. everyone I work with is brilliant, though.”

“that’s amazing. have you had a chance to work on your art?”

I think back to all the times when Matthew and I would spend free afternoons doing doodle competitions of the crew, usually on random scripts. they were judged by other cast mates, anyone who would take the time to look. I don’t think I was supposed to be on set as much as I was, but it was worth it.

“I wish. my schedule is so busy now, I barely have time to make dinner for myself.” I laugh. he leans back into the corner of the couch, resting his arm on top of the back. I pull one leg beneath me and mirror his actions.

“that’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing some new stuff.”

“I don’t think any of my co-workers would particularly enjoy the representations I do of them.”

“sour sports.” he says. the strangeness and vehemence of the sentiment makes me snort and I glance at the notebooks around the room.

“how about you? any new masterpieces?”

we go on like this for a while, just catching up and slipping into our inside jokes and memories as if they aren’t from a different time in our lives. although I was excited to see him today, there was a lingering nervousness about it going as planned. sometimes you try to reconnect and the spark is just... gone. but Matthew is still Matthew, and I’m still me.

he ends up leaving to go shoot sooner than I can believe, time passing quickly, and tells me to feel free to read any of his books or look through his sketchbooks. he never hides anything, and it’s admirable.

once he’s gone, I settle onto the couch with a used Ray Bradbury anthology that I found beneath a bag of sour candies and start to read.

my mind wanders, however, as I try to concentrate on the page. I think about how Matthew looks now, how the stubble makes his jaw even more defined. those wide, hazel eyes that always seem to glitter with enthusiasm. I don’t know if I’m still frustrated from the unsuccessful session with my vibrator earlier, but the thoughts begin to turn over in my mind and mingle with other ones.

there were moments with him that I remember, quiet ones where we’d be about to say goodnight or moments where he’d fall asleep on my shoulder in my apartment, where I’d look at him and consider the possibility. we get on so well, and he’s arguably one of my best friends. distance hasn’t changed that. there are things I would tell him that I haven’t told my other friends.

and when he’d brush against my skin, or grab my arm to get my attention, and my imagination would run wild. heated kisses and closed doors. finding the way to my bed in the dark, his hands on my waist while he crawls on top of me. things that never happened but that I imagined as if they were real memories seared into my mind.

and now, sitting in this trailer with this book and on this couch that smells like him, those feelings return like something lost, then found: rushing, feverish, overpowering. the images come in a flux, his weight on top of mine and his teeth dragging over my tits. on this couch, that’s all I want.

there’s a blush on my cheeks as I drop the book on the floor and undo the button on my pants. it won’t take me long; I can feel how wet I’m getting and I haven’t even thought that much about it. the pent-up excitement from earlier will overtake my senses. he said I have an hour, and this might take ten minutes tops.

as my fingertips brush over my panties, I close my eyes and imagine they’re his. curious, gentle, teasing before reaching below the waistband and cupping me. I whimper, starting to trace over the wet folds of my entrance with an eager hand. it feels good, right, and the heat of my body tells me that this time, it’ll work. my head is full of thoughts of him, and I dip a finger in, clenching around the digits. the heel of my palm presses into my clit and I moan, starting to work myself.

I imagine Matthew coming in here after he’s done and kissing me like he’s wasted enough time waiting; like he can’t wait another second to be with me. my pace quickens at the memory of his hands, veined and strong and sure, pumping into me. taunting me.

“Matthew...” I whine, removing my fingers to circle my clit with a hurried pressure. every second burns across my skin, reminding me that what I’m doing is wrong. I shouldn’t be touching myself in his trailer while he works, especially not when he’s coming back soon.

but it’s hot, too, and the rhythm I create is impossible to resist. I switch between fingering and toying with my bundle of nerves while clenching my free hand in the couch cushion. my eyes are squeezed shut as I get closer to orgasm, the knot in my stomach tightening with every moment.

“o-oh my god,” I hum. “Matthew--”

the sharp intake of breath makes my entire body freeze. my eyes fly open to see the bastard himself standing there, lips parted. he can’t seem to figure out where to look: my face, which was just contorted in pleasure while I moaned his name, or my pussy, which is almost completely on display now that I’ve managed to push my jeans down to my knees.

“oh my god.” I stutter, immediately removing my hand and sitting up. my cheeks are on fire and everything around me seems surreal. this can’t be real. “y-you weren’t supposed to be back for an hour.” I say stupidly. shit ton of luck that hour did me.

“we, uh, wrapped early.” he averts his eyes, then glances cautiously at my face. “I promise I walked in here before I knew. I never meant--”

“no, it’s fine.” I pull up my jeans, still too shocked to make any sweeping movements. he doesn’t seem quite sure what to do with himself, and I speak to break the silence. “sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wonder what you’d have done with an actual hour.” he says it like he’s attempting to lighten the mood, then winces as he realizes that he shouldn’t have said that. “sorry, bad joke. I’m just-- surprised.”

“Matthew, I’m so sorry--” I start. there’s literally no other direction to take this conversation. I feel like I’ve ruined our friendship within the span of a few seconds.

“were you saying my name?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised. I would like to sink into the floor and never come up again, I think.

“well, the thing is--” I take a deep breath. “I don’t normally, um... do that in people’s trailers?” my frown makes him smile a little as he relaxes. now that I’m fully clothed, he doesn’t seem so daunted. I scoot up on the couch and glance between the open spot and him to get him to sit. standing only makes it weirder.

he obliges, watching me pull my knees into my chest before I start to explain. guilt is building in my chest now, so much more real after being caught.

“I don’t wanna make this even more awkward than it is, but I feel like I should make it clear that there’s a reason why I was doing it in here and I’m not some freak who, like, contaminates people’s space. like, I was just gonna be super quick about it and be done because-- and now I’m justifying it, which is even worse--”

“hey, Y/N, relax.” Matthew reaches out and touches my wrist, his fingers soft as they pull my attention to his. when I finally muster the courage to look him in the eyes, he’s got a small smile on his face. “I’m not mad or anything.”

“okay.” I sigh, spine going a little less rigid.

“you were moaning my name, though, right?” he smirks. my eyes widen.

“don’t get too cocky,” I try to play it off. “I haven’t been able to get off for the past few days and I only tried it to see if it would work.”

“looks like it did.” he glances between my flushed cheeks and the hand that was playing with myself, which is now sitting on my jeans. how is he being so fucking smooth right now?

“whatever.” I turn my face away, knowing that anything else would be damning.

“are you still... frustrated?” he asks. his voice is low. my face snaps up, jaw dropping. one of his hands is covering the crotch of his jeans, trying to hide something.

“why?”

“I can help you out. only if you want to, of course.” he says this in complete seriousness. my gaze passes over his features once again to make sure I’m not absolutely dreaming. every line in his face, the intensity of those pretty irises, feels too real to be fake.

“like...” I think about his hands, about what he’s offering. it’s heavier than just sex, but also maybe not. it doesn’t have to be; we’re adults. our friendship wouldn’t be shattered by one encounter.

“like I’ll eat you out right now and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” we’ve moved closer on the couch, our faces inches apart while he says it so quietly that I wouldn’t hear it otherwise. the way he licks his lips, stares at me, tells me that we’ve already passed the point of no return. there’s no use in holding back anymore.

“mhmm.” I nod. if I say anything more, I’ll reveal more than he wants to know. that I’ve wanted this for a while, even though I tried to forget the way he makes me feel.

“come here, then.” he beckons me forward and I impatiently crash my lips to his. he responds immediately, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me to him. he’s greedy, but not in a way that overwhelms. like he’s trying to enjoy the moment. his nose brushes my cheek when he deepens the kiss, my hands looping around his neck. he begins to bite on my lower lip, tugging to get me to moan. I let him explore me, those features that he’s seen so many times but has never touched.

we’re hopeful in our embrace, and my mind feels like spring and how I imagine the earth feels when it’s in full bloom. excitement in my veins as we get more heated. when his fingers unbutton my jeans, he pulls away to take a moment.

“sit on my face.” he breathes out, feverish. I nod, getting up to shrug off my jeans. he watches, licking his lips when I pull down my panties and step out of them, then take off my top and bra. he leans back as if to sink down onto the couch for me, but I shake my head.

“take off your clothes first.” I tell him.

“you wanna see me naked?” he knows the truth, but wants me to say it. the smirk on his face makes me annoyingly aroused. I just start to go for the buttons on his shirt.

“yeah, I wanna see you naked.” I reply. this makes him grin and he helps me out by working on his jeans. we strip him down and then we’re both there, looking at each other.

“c’mere, beautiful.” he grabs my hip and pulls me closer until I get on the couch and position myself. he lies down flat, gesturing for me to scoot up his chest until my core is right above his face. “perfect.”

I’m about to poke a little fun at him for being so confident when he reaches up, wraps his hands around my thighs, and pulls me down against his face.

I yelp, overwhelmed by how he moans against my heat and starts to eat me out. his tongue moves expertly, lapping at the wetness that’s gathered between my legs before teasing my entrance. I release a series of noises that are downright sinful, but the red marks he’s leaving in my thighs tell me he’s loving my reaction. his nose brushes against my clit and I start to roll my hips against his face, falling apart already as he switches between sucking, licking, and sliding his tongue inside me. I grip onto his hair, mumbling like a prayer.

he takes the opportunity to quickly slap my ass before returning to my thighs, burying his face and working with a divine acuity. I can’t believe how good it feels, throwing my head back and arching my spine while I hold my tits. Matthew moves my hand and massages one while he stares up into my eyes, lust evident in every sound and motion.

“Matthew, please--” I gasp. “don’t stop.”

he groans, running his nails down my stomach while I ride his face. I’m needy for him, only uttering his name and more pleas for his tongue. and the sensation of him holding me down like he can’t get enough makes the knot from earlier return easily. I lean back a little, swirl my hips, and then it comes like a white-hot wave.

“oh my god—“ I can barely get it out, moving with abandon. “it’s so fucking good.”

he lets my body slow to a reasonable pace, drawing out the high until I’m swallowing all the air I can get and pull myself away from him. Matthew’s grinning, mouth glistening while he sits up a bit.

“such a wet little pussy.” he tells me, licking his lips. I’m pretty much resting on his chest and I start to move off of him when he quickly straightens himself, wraps his arms around my waist, and pushes me so I’m laying on my back at the other end of the couch with him leaning over me.

I brush his curls out of his face, appreciating the hunger in his face. he craves more of me, and the erection he’s pressing into my inner thigh is proof. I look up at him.

“you’re good.” I concede. he shrugs, smiles. butterflies.

“I just think about it a lot.” the response is simple, but it’s the right one. I blush and he grabs his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up at my entrance. I search his eyes, those widened pupils, as he shoves into me.

“shit.” he moans, jaw dropping once he’s reaching the hilt. “give it to me, baby.” I can feel him deep inside, cock twitching against my walls as he settles. one of his arms is over me, supporting himself on the arm of the couch, while the other holds my waist.

I don’t speak, only bite down on my lip and whimper through the initial shocks of him. it isn’t until he pulls out that I get more vocal. he starts to roll his hips, never breaking eye contact while I arch my back and moan.

“harder.” I whisper. he tightens his grip on me and slams himself inside. my body instinctively moves up away from the pressure, but he brings me right back down.

“is this what you were thinking about?” he breathes out. “me fucking you like a slut?”

I nod urgently, but he uses an index finger to tilt my face back to his.

“tell me who you belong to, little slut.” his tone is low, laced with lust when he bites his lip and watches my reactions to his cock.

“you.” I whine quietly, grabbing his shoulders for stability while he plows into me.

“louder, sweetheart. you were plenty sure before.” he mocks, pausing after to moan in my ear like he’s absolutely losing it. he roughly tugs me further against him and the sensation makes me cry out.

“y-you-- fuck!”

“c’mon, baby.” he pants. we’re definitely rocking this trailer with the way he’s ramming my body right now. I can feel him like he’s in my ribs.  

“Matthew, oh god--”

“show me how you cum, Y/N. lemme see you fucking break.” the final word is punctuated by him bottoming-out within me, his noises their own stimulation to my senses. I’m trying to breathe but it’s so hard with all the thoughts firing in my brain. he doesn’t go easy on me.

“I’m cumming.” my hips jerk up into his, pussy fluttering like it’s trying to push him out. but the tension only makes him thrust harder, further, chasing his own release as I claw at his back and squeeze my legs around his torso.

“can I fill that tight little cunt up, baby?” he moans into my ear, our bodies like undulating waves. I nod and buck against him, which drives him mad as his thrusts get sloppier. we’re filthy together and it’s otherworldly. “good girl.”

he lets out a whimpering sound while he stills inside my body and cums. I feel him twitching, shooting his load into me. I’m writhing while I clench around him, both of us falling apart. for all his cockiness, he’s lovely when he’s orgasming-- mouth open, eyes rolling back into his head before focusing intently on my face, a sheen of sweat that glows on his cheekbones.

when he finally withdraws, leaving me naked and panting on his couch, his eyes run over my body appreciatively.

“that help?” he smirks as he straightens. I glare at him, kneeing him in the ribs, and he leans down to kiss my cheek, giving me a tender look. “I’m joking. are you okay?”

“more than okay.” I smile. he doesn’t say anything for a moment, closing and opening his mouth as if debating whether or not to say something else.

“you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

“thanks.” as if this man hasn’t already fucked me senseless, I blush, look away shyly. he grabs my clothes from the floor and hands them to me.

“do you want some water?” he’s worried about giving me space. there’s a question lingering between us that I’m afraid to ask, especially now that he hasn’t. Matthew has always been the more bold between the two of us.

“uh, sure.” if it means he takes his eyes off me long enough for me to regain my bearings, yes. I watch him pull on the rest of his clothes before standing and going over to his mini-fridge. I’ll need to clean up soon.

“so...” his voice is measured, hazel eyes slipping over my form.

“so.”

“dinner? and then breakfast?” he suggests. my eyebrows raise at the second question, one that he hasn’t mentioned until now. the implication makes me laugh.

“you think you’re getting this again?” I try to act nonchalant, as if I’m not already imagining it.

“oh, wait--” he frowns, hesitates. “that’s not what I meant.”

“what did you mean?” there’s a grin taking over my face, hopeful as I await his response. I guess we’re about to answer that question after all.

“I wanna finally take you on a date.” he smiles softly, surprisingly shy. I don’t even hesitate to answer.

“I’m in.”

[1kook]

commercial break; SEVEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series ! happens a few months before part 7 

summary; And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan.  warnings; horny jk, jk wants to roleplay... everyone point n laugh, mentions of his impreg kink lol, making out, tits, honestly jk is just very horny n in love lol, jk in a vampire costume w fangs O_o rating; mature (18+) wc; 2k

notes; if u don’t know who lindsay is first of all ur sick, second of all here’s my queen’s top moments. also i just gotta say, this was originally gonna be a larger fic (a halloween special) for my ncouple, but i got a lil busy with school n ultimately didn't have time to invest in this as a whole installment so..... enjoy this commercial break instead!!

Jungkook loves Halloween.

He loves the pumpkin carving and the decorating. Loves the spooky music and the abundance of candy. He loves it, absolutely adores it, and for the second year in a row, he gets to spend it with you! Yet another person he loves very much.

He doesn’t remember ever being this excited for Halloween. Last year, you had roped him into going to some frat party with him, had egged him on, begged so cutely that it was your last year in college, baby until he caved. The two of you had spent the night drinking until you blacked out, Ubering home with your costumes half on, and then unceremoniously fucking in his living room with the blinds wide open.

(The next neighborhood meeting had been very awkward for Jungkook.)

It was his first time ever drinking with you like that, and he vaguely remembers, through his own drunken gaze, how cool you had been. Had absolutely owned a bunch of greasy football players at beer pong in your little sexy nurse costume. And when the crowd cheered your name, shrieked in awe, it had been him that you turned to for praise. “Did you see me, baby,” you had giggled, crowded him against the wall of this random house until Jungkook was sweating profusely. In lieu of a costume, he had worn a silly jogger set with a skeleton design that was supposed to glow in the dark, according to Amazon. You had told him he looked adorable, had kissed and squeezed his cheeks until Jungkook was a flustered mess.

It was still early into your relationship— if Jungkook did the math, you were only about five months in at that point —so he didn’t know how else to cope with the rapid thundering of his heart, the confession sitting on his tongue, the then scary L-word begging to be heard. So, he took you home and fucked you until your little nurse cap slid off your head and you were begging for him to let you cum, thus earning him his first ever offense for violating the neighborhood rules (i.e., traumatizing a group of middle schoolers by fucking in plain sight).

Long story short, Jungkook loves Halloween, and he loves it even more when he gets to spend it with you.

(He’ll never admit it, but he’s a hard romantic. He wants to do cheesy things with you, like cuddle you into his arms when you get scared, pat your head until you can look at whatever is happening on screen again. He wants you to feel safe in his arms, wants to be your refuge when things become too much. He likes to think he’s done a pretty good job so far.)

Jungkook’s plan goes like this:

First, welcome you with that Halloween basket you’ve been sending him tweet links about all month. The cute little Jack-O-lantern candy bucket stuffed with candy and hair ties and a soft Halloween themed blanket. It’s so cheesy, makes him blush when he catches sight of it in his closet, but Jungkook will do anything to please you.

Next, after presenting you with your Halloween gift and having you coo and tell him he’s a good boy, he’ll invite you to break your new soft blanket in. The living room will be prepared with an assortment of your favorite foods, the flat screen ready to play whatever horror movie the two of you settle on.

And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare.

It’s a perfect plan.

It’s the best way to spend his favorite holiday, with his favorite girl by his side and some of his favorite horror films on the big screen. Jungkook spends all of October geeked up for it, even considers hanging up lights around the living room to really set the mood. He’s so excited, can’t wait to spend another wonderful holiday at home with you, that he doesn’t fully realize why you haven’t brought up the long awaited topic of costumes.

“You like?” you ask, standing at the door of his bathroom with a sultry look in your eye, tits practically pouring out of the tight top you’ve wiggled into, skin oiled up scandalously. He fumbles with the fake vampire fang prosthetics he’d been trying to glue in for the better half of an hour.

He had heard the door open downstairs when you got here, had called out his mandatory greeting as he heard you come up the stairs. But none of that had prepared him for the sight of you in… whatever this was.

Jungkook doesn’t really understand exactly what you’re supposed to be dressed up as until the two of you are back downstairs—blinds drawn, full moon slipping in through the cracks—with some random horror movie pulled up on the TV. “I’m Lindsey,” you whine, brand new fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It shields your boobs from view, but he’s not sure if that’s a win or a loss. “From Total Drama Island!”

He settles in beside you, doesn’t get too comfortable because it’s nearing sundown now and he knows the herds of children are bound to start flowing in. “Uh huh,” he says mindlessly. His collar feels itchy, the overly-detailed vampire costume he meticulously scoured the internet for being one size too small. You snuggle into his side anyway.

“You don’t know anything about cinematic masterpieces,” you frown, avidly tuned into The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, because apparently you love horror movies all of a sudden, a fact that genuinely throws Jungkook off. He’s not sure what it is about you that had deluded him into thinking you would be a scaredy cat, but he doesn’t take the new bit of information too hard.

The doorbell rings right as the first gorey scene ends and you make a big show of huffing and whining as he rushes to answer it. But it’s only the beginning of the long night that awaits, and, as Jungkook comes to find, running back and forth from the door to the couch is harder than it seems.

Anyway, Jungkook’s neighborhood is a little posh, or ‘bougie’ as you like to claim, and trick-or-treating hours end a little before eleven pm. By then he’s tired, having refused your offer to switch places in fear that your boob might fall out of that scrap of fabric you call a top and earn him his second neighborly offense.

However, that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to your boobs falling out in private.

“Stupid,” you giggle when he gets caught in his long cape, the sound slowly melting into a whimper as he slips his hands beneath your top, fighting with the ridiculous push-up bra you’ve donned tonight. Hands tangle in his hair, mess up the careful side part he’d styled up for tonight, and legs lock around his waist. “Your curtains closed?” you tease.

He huffs, catches your chatty lips with his roughly, presses and presses until your mouth must bruise. He belatedly remembers about those sharp fangs he’d glued on—hey, if he was going to dress up as some gaudy monster it might as well be realistic—and doesn’t realize until he tries to bite your neck and you let out a little yelp. Truthfully, he feels bad right away, but then you’re practically dissolving in his arms so he plays along. “Shh,” he hisses.

The roar of a chainsaw and terrified screams fill the living room, almost drowning out the soft sounds you release by his ear. “O- Or what?” you pant, flinch when he pushes your sad excuse of a skirt up over your waist. “Gonna b- bite me?”

And so Jungkook does.

You shriek. “That hurts, you idiot!” you scold with a tiny whine in your voice, but Jungkook’s cock is so hard. Your tiny, tight outfit does you no favors. Tits in his face, tiny thong against his bulge. He wants to make you sob, litter bites and marks all over your skin until his love makes you ache. You must see the crazed look in his eyes, because you drop the scowl. “Hey,” you say slowly, hand on his chest. “You look like you’re gonna eat me.”

He lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wonders if you can feel his thundering heart beneath your palm. “Fuck,” he sighs, leaning away to regain his senses. Was it something in the air? Was it the fatigue? The full moon? Why did he want to fold you in half and fuck his cock into you until you were a crying, shivering mess? Something about you tonight, laid out for him to take, makes him feel absolutely insane. Starved and psycho; he just wants to take and take until you don’t have anything more to give. He purses his lips, tries to ignore the hot feeling in his lower abdomen when your hardened nipples register to his eyes. “I think I’m becoming evil.”

Of all the idiotic things his brain can come up with, this one is definitely top five. His cheeks flush right after, fueled by the boisterous laughter that escapes your lips at his statement. “Oh my god,” you gasp in glee, hands falling down beside your head. “You’re becoming evil?’

Jungkook frowns, flopping down on top of you to hide the embarrassment that paints his face. “Shut up,” he mumbles against your neck, warm and safe.

A hand cards through the back of his hair, nails dig lightly into his scalp. “Aren’t you the cutest little vampire,” you coo, seemingly ignoring the rock hard cock Jungkook presses against your thigh. He’s still so horny, has this sick thought that he could just pin you down right here, tear that silly costume to shreds and swallow you up in his lust. But your voice is so sweet, has his eyes fluttering shut as you gather him in his arms. “Silly vampire,” you hum, one leg thrown around his hip, a subtle roll of you hips up into him.

Jungkook huffs, licks a flat strip along the base of your neck. It draws a shaky exhale from you, has your hands digging into his back when he begins to slowly lap against the skin, nibble and tug until your back is deliciously arching up into him. “Wanna push you down,” he confesses quietly, hands securing themselves against your hips as he leans back. You're all dazed, eyes trained on his fanged mouth when he hesitantly adds, “l- little human.”

You could laugh, tease him for his sudden weird need to role play with you, but you don’t. A look of understanding crosses your face, sly smirk slowly following. “Oh?” you grin, hand coming around to cup his cheek. “The little vampire wants to use my body?” Jungkook tightens his jaw at your jab, but nods nonetheless.

You’re a feast before his eyes. Boobs in his face, pussy begging to be filled. You’re his, just like Jungkook is yours. And when you indulge him and his stupid whims—kinks, he should say, occasional interests that sometimes make him question himself—his heart feels warm and full. Proud and unashamed, like the truest version of himself when you look at him with those eyes. And your words only confirm it.

Your hands reach down for your top, pull the flimsy material over your head in one swoop that has your bra coming off with it. It drops to the floor. If it makes a sound, Jungkook doesn’t hear it over the shrieks of terror on screen. the blood deaths, the suspenseful music. All he hears is he hammering of his heart. 

It’s two of your sneaky fingers that come up to play, pinch one nipple tenderly as you meet his eyes. “It’s all yours,” you purr. “I’m all yours.”

And the thirst he feels, well. It’s a little vampiric, to say the least. 

—

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

[rkived]

year 22 (m) — jjk

‘‘I knew you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me.’‘ 

Pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x f!reader 

Genre/Tags: angst!!!, drama, a lil fluff, f2l, e2l-ish, pining, slow burn, smut

Rating: M +18

WC: 11.5k

Warnings: time jumps, underage drinking, jk being a douchebag for most of the fic, reader can’t catch a mf break, mention of character death ((no major one tho)). smut in the form of oral (f. receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex ((wrap it b4 u tap it y’all)), my being called pretty kink making a brief appearance soz

A/N: i listened to cardigan for the first time n had it on replay the whole time i wrote this so ig u should do it too ! this is my first time posting smut on here but who would i be if i didn’t throw in some good angst ? also tysm to @periminkle​ for being my unofficial beta reader n checking it up for me, she knows i’m constantly looking for her validation n i def wouldn’t post this if she didn’t love it ilu vira thx for being the best ever mwah !!! 

You’re five, cowering behind his mother’s legs, sniffing as tears stream down your face. In front of you both stands Jungkook, there’s remorse written all over his face as his mother stares him down with hands on her hips and a look that just screams that this is only the beginning of his punishment. 

‘’Apologize to Y/N right now Jungkook, or I’ll have your father have a word with you,’’ she threatens with a stern tone, making her son quickly shake his head no. ‘‘You need to learn how to share your toys.’’ 

You peek behind her lanky leg and find the slightly older kid looking at you with narrowed eyes, ‘‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’’ He apologizes with a bow, but he’s obviously displeased with the whole ordeal. 

His mother sighs and Jungkook pouts at the look on her face. She urges you to come out from your not-so-secret hiding spot and to go back to playing with him, even though you seriously doubt that will do any good to what just happened. 

Jungkook’s bedroom door is kept open as he sits back down on his city patterned carpet, you twiddle with your thumbs and stare at the Spiderman poster on his wall. There’s an awkward silence between you two until you feel a toy bump your crisscrossed legs. 

It’s the shiny red car he had refused to lend you before, provoking an argument between you two which eventually made you run out of his room in tears as you ratted him out to his mom. 

‘‘Wooow,’’ you whisper in awe, taking the car in your hands with so much care, treating it like it’s one of your newest dolls. 

Jungkook huffs, crossing his arms as he looks at you with distaste and he’s forced to settle with other boring toys as you giggle to yourself, making the car follow the carpet’s tracks. He learns then to never trust his mother again. If she ever says she’ll bring a new friend for him to play with again, he’ll refuse wholeheartedly.

He doesn’t like sharing his toys, and it’ll probably take him a long time to learn how to.

You’re nine as you hand Jungkook one of the multiple Valentine’s Day cards you carefully crafted the night before with your mother, adding all kinds of pretty stickers and shiny glitter to make each one of them unique. His is different from the rest, though. 

You added hearts to the dots in the I’s, there’s a hint of your favorite body splash enveloping the pink construction paper and it fills Jungkook’s nostrils with so much force that he feels he could gag at the smell. 

‘‘What do you think?’’ You ask the fourth-grader with a big smile on your face, cheeks tinted with a light shade of red as you see him reading the little message you wrote inside the card.

Jungkook lets out a mocking chuckle, ‘‘Are you serious? You like me?’’ He asks you, but it doesn’t look like he’s looking for answers. Your smile slowly fades away, looking at him with glossy eyes, ‘‘I don’t like you, you’re just a dumb little girl.’’ 

His card was the one you had invested the most time in and yet it only took him a second to crumple it with his hand, and another five for him to toss it into the trash can near you before he goes back to his group of friends in the school’s playground.

You learn how to hold your tears in then, thinking it’s a great accomplishment and that maybe now he’ll stop calling you a crybaby.

His friends receive him with high-fives and he smiles with gratefulness because they just saw how much of a badass he can be. Once recess is over and everyone’s going back to their classrooms, Jungkook nears the garbage bin where he had thrown the Valentine's card in, but finds it’s now dirty with yogurt someone tossed inside. 

He grimaces at the sight and sighs, there’s no way he can save it now.

You’re twelve and you’re the only girl in the treehouse who hasn’t gone through puberty yet. It wasn’t something that bothered you until just recently, when it became pretty evident why none of the boys would even give you a onceover compared to the other girls.

“I don’t know if I want to play,” you mumble after Kim Jihyo suggests playing spin the bottle. You’re the only one who opposes the idea, though you could count Jungkook in given as he just sat there without saying a word.

Park Yerim rolls her eyes, “You’re so boring, Y/N!” The comment makes the rest giggle as you pout at being the designated party pooper. 

It’s all fun and games of truth and dares to whoever the bottle lands on and you’ve been lucky enough to avoid the tip of the plastic Coca-Cola bottle to point at you, until it lands on Jungkook who has done a few funny dares so far.

“Alright, Jungkook, let’s make things even more fun!” Jihyo announces since she’s been the one who has assigned most of the embarrassing challenges and questions, “I dare you to kiss one of the girls here for ten seconds.” 

The dare makes the boys cheer with excitement and the girls gasp with anticipation, hoping one of them is the lucky chosen one. Your lips part slightly as you stare at him sitting across from you, he’s clearly not comfortable with the dare, but knowing him, he won’t express his current discomfort. 

His eyes land on you as you stare back at him with concern, hoping that he’ll speak up to avoid himself the embarrassment. Has he even kissed someone before? If this is his first kiss, you’ll witness it alongside everyone else and you can only imagine how terrifying that must be. Even though Jungkook’s always been a brave kid, you can always tell when he feels under pressure.

“Uhm, I’ll uh—“ Jungkook keeps staring at you and you feel your heart start to beat like you just ran the usual ten laps around the gym in P.E class. Are you about to have your first kiss? With him? 

You nod your head absentmindedly, a sign to let him know it’s okay for him to pick you from all the other developed girls who probably have more experience kissing than you do, but it’s okay because you’ve always been a quick learner. 

“Yeji,” Jungkook says after what feels like forever, though it’s only been a mere few seconds, “I’ll kiss Yeji.” He adds, removing his eyes from yours and settling them on the girl with the high ponytail and pink colored nails. 

You bite your bottom lip hard, breaking the dry skin as you feel yourself taste blood. It doesn’t matter because no one’s paying attention to you and instead they’re focused on Jungkook’s neverending kiss with Yeji. 

When you get home that night, you look at yourself in the mirror and frown at your lack of everything. Is this the reason as to why he hadn’t picked you? 

You’re fourteen and Kim Taehyung just sent you a message through MSN in which he confesses to have feelings for you. Your eyes widen, rereading the message several times, rubbing at your eyes just to make sure you’re seeing things correctly. 

You run off across the street to Jungkook’s house, ringing the doorbell quickly for someone to open up. You’re greeted by him looking at you with an annoyed expression, he had to pause his GTA game to come and open the door. 

“What do you want?” Jungkook asks harshly, crossing his arms as he stares into somewhere that’s not your face. He’s anxiously waiting for you to spit out whatever it is you’re there to say. 

You calm yourself down by breathing in deep and out, blowing the air right at him, “Does Taehyung like me?” You ask him, making Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise and his brows to raise. 

His reaction tells you that you might’ve just discovered a secret you weren’t supposed to and it only makes your heart beat even faster because if it’s true, then this is a pleasant surprise. Kim Taehyung is one of the hottest boys in the tenth grade and he happens to be one of Jungkook’s closest friends. You think he must know something since you see them hanging out at lunch.

“Uh—I don’t know, Y/N.” Jungkook mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck, finally looking at you and he feels a gut wrenching punch in his stomach at the sight. “Taehyung isn’t a really good guy, you shouldn’t—“ 

“What are you saying?” You interrupt him with a question, confused as to why Jungkook was painting a negative picture of his friend. “He was really sweet with what he said, he thinks my eyes are pretty when they sparkle — I didn’t even know they did that!” 

Jungkook grimaces and sighs, there’s really not much he can do here. You’ve always been so stubborn, so relentless. No matter how many times life tries to tell you something’s not meant for you, you challenge each and every one of it’s obstacles until you take what’s yours. 

“Okay, then what are you gonna do? Date him? You haven’t even had your first kiss yet.” Jungkook reminds you with a mocking tone and you furrow your brows together because, how does he know that? 

You stammer, “I-I have! I had it at camp last summer, actually!” That’s a lie, but he wasn’t there so he can’t prove the veracity of your statement. “And what do you care? So what if I want to date him?” You add with anger, not understanding why couldn’t he just support you in search of true love. 

The thought of dating Kim Taehyung had never crossed your mind, thinking he was way too out of your league for him to ever notice you. But that confession sitting in your MSN chat now served as a nice feeling of knowing you aren’t as invisible as you think you are. 

Jungkook scoffs, “Taehyung would never date you, okay? He’s older than you, he’s cool, he goes to parties and has kissed almost every girl in his grade, do you think he’d really like someone as boring as you?” He doesn’t mean to be so harsh, but you’re just so difficult and impossible to get through.

Jungkook’s used to the trembling bottom lip and the teary eyes that you give him everytime he says something that definitely strikes a nerve within you, but he’s always impressed on how you always refrain from crying in front of him. Last time you did that you were both kids and he probably took the last lollipop from your batch of collected halloween candy. 

“Screw you, Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead already. 

He looks at you quickly stomp your way back to your house, only heading back inside once you slam your front door shut. Jungkook enters his room to find two new messages in his MSN.

$$ kIm tAaEhyYyuNG $$: it worked! 

$$ kIm tAeEhyYyunGG $$: she fell for it xDxD where did u even come up with the sparkly eyes thing?? that’s gold bro rofl 

Jungkook sighs, ignoring the messages and shutting his computer down.

You’re sixteen and you’ve been invited to your first party. Granted, it was Jungkook’s, but he knew that if he didn’t ask you to come you’d probably tell on him with his mom. No matter what age he was, he’d always fear his mother’s scolding. 

“Drink this!” Park Jimin says with his beautiful smile and you’re starting to realize why they gave him that very same superlative on the school’s yearbook. You take the red solo cup without any second thought, placing the rim straight to your lips and choke once you feel the liquid burn your throat. 

“Ugh—What’s this?” You ask, cleaning the droplets of liquid around the corners of your mouth. 

He chuckles, “Fruit punch!” The liquid is indeed red like the familiar drink you’re used to, but there’s definitely something else mixed inside. “Oh, and vodka,” he adds with wiggly eyebrows as he shows off the small flask he was hiding in his sweatshirt’s front pocket.

You gasp and hand him the cup back, “No, I don’t drink alcohol, sorry.” Jimin rolls his eyes and it reminds you of the many times you’ve received this same reaction from your classmates before. Always a party pooper. He’s about to take the plastic red cup from you until you quickly drink the spiked punch in one go.

The boy howls in excitement, “Woo, go Y/N! Another one coming right up.” 

Jungkook knows he should be making sure everything’s alright downstairs. If his mother notices there’s at least one misplaced object, she’ll know right away something went down in her house while her husband and her were away for the weekend on an emergency trip to their hometown. Leaving him unsupervised only because they both believed their son was old enough to tend for himself.

But Jung Eunha had dragged him into his room with the excuse of wanting to see what it looked like, but the mini tour had turned into them kissing on his bed and Jungkook is thankful he changed his Spiderman sheets in exchange for some boring plain grey ones. Eunha smells like fresh mint and Jungkook is way into his head to focus on properly kissing her.

It’s not until his bedroom door is abruptly open, slamming against the wall that Jungkook literally jumps to his feet, making Eunha gasp as they both look at the person who has interrupted their awkward makeout session. 

“Guk-ah, what are you doin’?” You curiously wonder, a hiccup following right after which makes you giggle. Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with quickness as he notices you look different from the last time he saw you twenty minutes ago when you were talking to Jimin. “Guk-ah, were you—you kissin’ Eunha?” You ask once more after not receiving an answer to your previous question.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks in concern, coming closer to analyze your weird state. You stretch your arm out to avoid him from nearing you, making him falter in his place as he studies your expression. 

You hum, “Guk-ah, you busy. Sorry,” you apologize in a shy tone, ready to head back down and have more of that fruity alcohol punch you now found tasty, but you stumble and only avoid yourself from falling by holding onto Jungkook's door frame, he’s already reaching out by then. 

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N? Get out!” Eunha complains with irritation, getting up from the bed and ready to kick you out of his room, but his free arm stops her from getting near you. “Whu—?”

“Eunha, go back down. I’ll deal with her myself.” Jungkook says as calmly as he can, thinking three’s a crowd and dealing with you wasn’t an easy thing in of itself. She’s about to argue, but he interrupts her again, “Go down, now.” 

She rolls her eyes and bumps her shoulder against yours harshly once she steps out of his room, “Whatever, that kiss was shitty anyway.” 

He pretends he didn’t hear that and takes you in his arms instead, dragging you to lay on his bed as you cuddle into his favorite pillow and hug it close to your body. How much did you drink? Why did you even do it in the first place? Jungkook knows you’ve never tried alcohol before, which means he’ll be in big trouble if you show up back to your house like this. 

When you open your eyes hours later, your head hurts and it feels lightweight when you move it side to side. The room you’re in is familiar, that spiderman poster is still hung on the wall, but there are no more toys laying around the floor; they’ve probably been stored somewhere in his garage or sent off to a donation center under his mother’s demand.

The pillow that you’re hugging smells just like him and any other day you’d hold on to it tighter and inhale his scent like your life depended on it, but you abruptly sit on the bed as you’re reminded of how you got here. The action is not appreciated by your dizzy head, but you look around the room to notice how dark it is and there’s no more music playing downstairs. 

You quickly jump to the ground, only to hear a “Fuck, ouch!” from below, stepping on Jungkook’s leg unintentionally. It makes you gasp, looking down to notice the older friend laying on the cold floor, having gotten rid of that childhood carpet of his. His head’s laying on a makeshift pillow made out of a towel and he’s trying hard not to shiver. 

“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!” You quickly apologize, stepping away from his figure as he soothes the shin of his leg you stepped on. “Jungkook, what happened?” 

He sighs, “Someone decided to drink like five cups of spiked punch knowing damn well it was their first time drinking alcohol, stepped into my room like a crazy person, and then crashed on my bed like they��What’s with the face?”

“Bathroom.”

Jungkook grimaces while he holds your hair back, you’re throwing away all the liquid you had taken with a few additional snacks you had munched on earlier, “Are you done?” He asks in a tired mumble and you shake your head no.

He feels guilty that you’re in this position. He didn’t even want to kiss Eunha, but she was one of the most popular girls in his grade and he knew that if he turned her down she would most likely put a bad word in with the rest of the girls and the guys would make fun of him for being such a wuss.

That would’ve been better, because after laying you down on his bed he had to go down and tell everyone that the party was over, putting an excuse that the neighbors had warned him and threatened to call the cops. They all cleared pretty quickly, but he knew he was going to be the butt of the jokes come Monday. He even had to call your parents to let them know you had gone home to a friend’s house for a sleepover, which he knew wasn’t totally believable, but it had somehow gotten them convinced that their daughter was alright because they trusted Jungkook to never hurt you ever. 

Once you feel like you’ve puked your stomach out, Jungkook hands you a pill accompanied with a glass of water and hands you clothes of his that might be more comfortable to sleep in. 

“Good night, Jungkook,” you whisper once you’re laying back on his bed, still hugging the pillow he preferred to sleep with. He makes a sacrifice to make it up to you. 

His back is going to hurt by the time the sun comes out in a few hours, but it’s okay if it means you’ll sleep comfortably after the events of tonight. “Good night, Y/N.” 

He’s unable to sleep, but finds entertainment in your hanging hand beside his bed. The skin on your palm looks soft and there’s this strange urge inside of him that makes him want to grab your hand in his, but he refrains. 

To calm the current chaos in his head, Jungkook finds peace in the light snores coming from his bed.

You’re just about to turn eighteen and your date to the prom is Jeong Jaehyun, who had only asked you out a day before the event because the girl he had initially wanted to take had been asked and he didn’t have a plan B. 

Jaehyun is okay, at least he managed to get you a corsage that matched the color of your dress. He even smiles in the pictures your parents take of you both as you awkwardly try to look comfortable with his arms around you even though by then you had only exchanged a few sentences. 

The prom’s theme is Summer Nights and you think it’s fitting considering this is the very last event before the graduation ceremony, meaning that you’d most likely never see most of these people ever again. You had purposely applied to a college that was outside of your hometown for that same reason. You’re ready to live the life you’ve always wanted to live, without anyone judging or knowing you. 

Your date spends most of the night talking with his group of friends as you’re left alone on your table, looking at your well manicured nails. You knew you weren’t going to get the same prom experience the high school kids on T.V enjoyed, but you at least hoped it would’ve been a little more fun than this.

A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around to see Jungkook trying to loosen the tight tie around his neck. He looks incredibly handsome and you suppose his mother helped him pick the suit out, Jungkook rarely ever wore fitted clothing, so this is one of those once in a lifetime moments..

“Hey you,” you say and he gives you half a smile, wondering why you’re sitting by yourself at an empty table when everyone else was either mingling or dancing. “Where’s your date?” You ask with curiosity, you’re surprised that Jinsoul isn’t trailing alongside him given how she had behaved for the past week ever since he asked her to come with him. 

“Retouching her face or something,” he answers casually, “what are you doing sitting here? Where’s Jaehyun?” Jungkook asks.

You shrug your shoulders, “Don’t know, probably talking with the guys of the basketball team. He’s been gone for a while.” Not like you care, anyway. If your conversation with him inside his car on the way to the venue had been any indication of what it would’ve been like for the rest of the night, you’re glad he's not here trying to make any more small talk with you.

Jungkook huffs, thinking he’ll kick his ass if he sees him. He had asked him to invite you so you wouldn’t come alone, and yet here you are, sitting all by yourself while the douchebag’s making a social life somewhere in the crowd. He calms down once he notices how unbothered you are by it, though. You’re a big girl now, you’ve been through too much to be affected by something as simple as this.

“Is there something you wan—“

“Dance!” You interrupt with excitement and Jungkook chuckles.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted something to drink, but—alright, let’s dance.” Jungkook can’t dance for shit, but you took lessons when you were younger and he can still remember how you’d always show him the routines you learned in class. He’d always boo you, but in reality you were pretty good. He wonders why you stopped, he doesn’t recall you ever telling him.

It’s just his luck that once you both step into the dancefloor, the hired DJ stops the up-tempo song playing before and switches to a much slower romantic one, “Alright everyone, I want all the couples on the dancefloor for this one.” 

You step away from him with nervousness, it’s couples only after all. But Jungkook holds onto your lower back firmly, pulling you closer into his space. Your eyebrows raise as your lips part, “Uh, s-should we, uh—?” 

“It’s just a song, Y/N. You wanted to dance, then we’ll dance.” He tells you with such confidence it makes you feel like this is totally normal and something all friends do. All the known High School couples are dancing together, heads tenderly placed over chests and chins resting lovingly above them. You wait for Jungkook to take the lead because you have no clue of what you should be doing, you might’ve taken dance lessons years ago but you’ve never slowed danced in your life. 

Jungkook places his hand on your hip, the touch makes goosebumps crawl in your arms. He pretends he doesn’t notice it as he takes your right hand in his. You stare at the way he delicately holds it like it’s his mother’s fine china. “Place your other hand on my shoulder,” he instructs and you do as asked, your palm coming to rest on the strong muscle. 

He’s only slowed danced once before at a family member’s wedding where his mother taught him how to, with her as the teacher. Back then he thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but now he’s sort of glad that happened because he’s the teacher now and you’re now looking at him with your big eyes as you sway alongside him. 

You clear your throat, “This isn’t that hard.” Jungkook nods as he stares down at you, noticing how uneasy you are given that you’re looking at everything and not entirely immersed in the moment.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He says out of nowhere, making you look at him like a deer stuck in headlights, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had never called you that before. 

An awkward laugh escapes your lips, looking away from his intense gaze as you try not to take his words too literally, “Ha ha, that was a good one.” To you there’s no other explanation than this being one of his mean pranks on you.

But Jungkook doesn’t falter both his words and gaze, “I’m not laughing.” There’s seriousness in his voice and you have to look back at him again just to make sure he really isn’t, “You look beautiful, just take the compliment.” You nod and there’s silence between you two after that. You’re digesting the romantic lyrics that the singer is talking about and hope that the song ends soon, because you’ve never been this close to him and it’s starting to feel too crowded.

You clear your throat, “So…” 

“So…,” he repeats. 

“What are you doing for summer?” You ask him in an attempt to break the tension and wanting to take advantage of the little intimate moment since Jungkook rarely ever lets you pry into his private life. 

“I think I’ll train before heading off,” he answers. It was more than obvious he was going to earn that sports scholarship he had been aiming for, he was one of the best athletes on the school; though you considered him to be the number one between them all. “I’m kinda scared, not gonna lie.” 

You look at him with surprise, tilting your head to the side, “You’re scared?” You ask in disbelief because as long as you’ve known him, he’s never been scared of anything. This is the same kid who instilled your fear of monsters in a closet after watching Monster’s Inc. together, also the same kid who helped you get over it after he realized you had actually taken it seriously.

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, I’m just scared about starting over.” It’s interesting how his biggest fear is the one you’re looking forward to the most, but you suppose it’s fitting for someone who has never had to worry about what people think of him. In this town, Jungkook has swam freely without any concerns. Out there, he’s just another fish in the big and scary ocean. “Aren’t you?” He questions, hoping that you’re able to relate to what he’s feeling. 

“Honestly, I—“ 

You’re interrupted by Jaehyun clearing his voice in front of you two, making you both turn your heads towards his direction. You quickly separate from Jungkook and he feels his body lose the warmness you were providing. 

“If you wanted to dance, you could’ve just asked. I’m your date after all.” He says smugly and you chuckle awkwardly, nodding because he’s right. 

Jungkook wants to punch his stupid face, how dare he interrupt you both when he had been ignoring you the whole night? Why does he suddenly want to dance with you when he’s probably still upset at him for asking Jinsoul to the prom before he could?

“Your date’s looking for you, buddy. She doesn’t look too happy.” Jaehyun adds with a smirk as he takes your hand in his and drags you away from Jungkook towards another place on the dancefloor. 

He’s left to stare at the way he holds your hand, and he only hopes he’s doing it ever so carefully. 

You’re twenty when Jungkook sees you for the first time since you both left for college two and half a years ago. He’s rendered speechless when he spots you in the crowd, there’s a manly hand around your waist as you giggle into the stranger’s mouth before placing a kiss to his lips. 

There’s only so much social media can provide him, pictures and stories aren’t enough for Jungkook to keep up with you. He thinks you’ve changed, not only appearance wise but you seem way more outgoing, carefree, and happy. Did he miss the boyfriend announcement picture? He’s sure he didn’t, he checks your profile almost every day and he’s never even seen him in any of your stories. 

A gasp escapes your lips once you spot him, completely forgetting about the possibility of bumping into him given that both your schools were playing against each other that night. You tell Namjoon you’ll be right back and he nods, going back to a conversation with the group of college friends you had made. 

You surprise him by jumping into him, arms around his shoulders as you hug him from behind. You let out a shrill of excitement and he blushes as his friends chuckle at the unexpected approach from this unfamiliar girl. 

‘‘Jungkook! You didn’t tell me you’d be here,’’ you say once he turns around to face you and he’s able to see you better upfront. You look beautiful and he thinks the Instagram pictures are not doing you enough justice. You’re glowing, and it has nothing to do with the highlighter you applied on your face and collarbone area. 

The both of you aren’t able to properly talk until you suggest moving to a different area, Jungkook apologizing to his friends as he explained he needed to catch up with an old friend. They don’t complain and instead shoot him teasing looks and small pervy comments that go by unnoticed to you. 

Jungkook listens with intent to your ramble about what you’ve been up to. From your courses, to your roommates, the parties you’ve attended, and even the fact that you handle your alcohol better now. He’s happy that you seem so too, but it irks him that you hadn’t been capable of telling him that you had a boyfriend now. Is there a reason as to why you omitted that important piece of information? 

‘‘And what about you? How’s college?’’ You ask with curiosity. 

He blinks a few times, realizing you had stopped talking about yourself and was now wondering about him instead. ‘‘It’s fine,’’ he answers with a tight lipped smile, the lack of detail compared to you was astonishing, but even though you were still hungry for more you decided not to pry any further. 

There’s fear in revealing that he’s been having a hard time catching up with the rest of his peers. College was indeed fine, but it could be better. He’s settled with the idea that this is as good at it’ll get, some things just aren’t like you expect them to be. At least you’re happy, and that fact brings him comfort. 

‘‘Was that your, uhm─boyfriend?’’ He finally asks after a while, both about to head back to your respective group of friends. 

The question takes you by surprise, looking at him with raised eyebrows and mouth agape. ‘‘Who? Namjoon?’’ He nods, though he doesn’t know anything about the guy he had first seen you with. You let out a wholehearted laugh, ‘‘Hell no, too many commitment issues with that one,’’ you answer and Jungkook’s forehead creases with confusion. 

Why were you kissing him then? 

‘‘We’re friends with benefits,’’ you inform him as if you had read his mind. ‘‘He’s a nice guy, though. Also, super smart, he’s helped me with a few of my─’’ 

‘‘You’re not a virgin anymore?’’ He abruptly asks, disbelief in his tone as he internally screams to himself for thinking out loud. Jungkook expects you to berate him about such an imprudent question, but is surprised when he sees you giggling. 

‘‘Duh, silly. I think I lost it freshman year?’’ The carelessness in your voice makes him look at you like you’ve gone crazy. Why are you so lax about this? Why are you telling him about losing your virginity without a care in the world? ‘‘Anyway, are you going to be home for the─’’

Jungkook interrupts you once again, ‘‘Was it with your boyfriend at the time?’’ He asks in genuine curiosity and you sigh, rolling your eyes slightly at him. 

‘‘No, it was some random dude at this party I went to. Could you please─’’

‘‘Y/N, are you insane? Why would you give up your virginity to some fucking stranger like it’s nothing?’’ Jungkook’s voice raises as he scolds you about being so negligent about yourself, ‘‘You can’t do shit like that!’’ He fumed, making you let out a breathless chuckle. 

‘‘Could you stop treating me like a fucking child for once in your life? I’m perfectly fine, Jungkook. I’ve been doing pretty well for myself without you here, actually. I don’t know why you think you have a say on what I do, is it the entitlement you have of me that you still carry around because we grew up together? Because if that’s it then you can drop it, I let go of my little girl who wanted a friend and was treated like pure shit in return complex a long time ago.’’ 

He knows you’re right, but he thinks he’ll always have this odd sense of protection over the five year old girl who cried to his mom about not lending her his favorite toy. He’ll always want to apologize to the eight year old girl who declared her love for him with a Valentine’s Day card while he ended up breaking her heart in exchange. He’ll always wish to look for help within the twelve year old girl who witnessed him give out his first kiss to another girl who he didn’t even like. He’ll always feel guilty towards the sixteen year old girl who had gotten tipsy on a spiked fruit punch and crashed on his bed. He’ll always hate himself for not asking the seventeen going on eighteen year old girl to prom when he knew he could’ve, but chose not to in fear of ruining your friendship. 

You only wanted someone to be there for you growing up and Jungkook had never been the brave boy you thought he was, always running from his fears in hopes he’d have a wide advantage margin from them. Yet here they are, standing right in front of him in the form of a twenty year old you, and they’re there to let him know that you’ve never needed him, yet he’s always needed you.

He can’t even apologize, he only looks at you with wide eyes as he fidgets in his place. Either you’re both too old now to understand each other or you just realized that you’ve outgrown Jungkook. 

Your mouth set in a hard line as you crossed your arms, the night’s breeze feeling colder than usual. ‘‘I miss you Jungkook, but I can’t keep playing this cat and mouse game with you any longer.’’ 

You leave him behind to go back to Namjoon’s arms, seeking refuge in his sweet embrace as you try your hardest to put on practice what you learned all those years ago when Jungkook broke your heart for the first time, you should be used to it by now.

You’re twenty-one when you’re back in your hometown to attend the funeral of the old lady down the street, the one that always scolded you and Jungkook growing up. 

You had been scared of her as a child, but always following along your friend’s footsteps when he proposed playing around her garden. It tugs at your heartstrings even if you hadn’t known the woman well. Her death was imminent seeing as she’d been ill for quite some time. 

A taller figure stands next to you as you both stand way in the back of the ceremony. He looks tired and you figure that it’s because of the fact he arrived late into the night, you heard his car’s engine from your bedroom window. Dressing in all black, you notice he bought a new suit. You’re sure that the one he wore for prom no longer fits considering he’s bigger now. 

You haven’t talked to each other since last year when you both left off on a sour note. The hurt you felt was no longer present, though. You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought of a way you could talk to him again without making things awkward, but you let out a small gasp once he placed his arm around your shoulders, giving it a small squeeze as he sighed and kept his focus on the service. 

Watching the casket be lowered into the ground felt weird. She was a human being just like you, but her existence was a reminder of your childhood. Would it be okay to say that her death meant a part of you leaving with her too? 

Once it hits you, it’s Jungkook who consoles you by hugging you tight. Your eyes are too blurry with tears for you to realize this is one of those rare moments where he’s holding you close without hesitation. He lets you ruin his tuxedo’s jacket with your mascara covered tears as he brushes your hair as a sign of comfort. 

You know things are back in order when he proposes the idea to go back to the old lady’s porch, for old times sake. ‘‘Will we ever let her rest?’’ You ask him with a small laugh as Jungkook sits on the doorsteps of the old lady’s empty home, opening the bag of candy worms he bought at the grocery store. 

He shrugs, ‘‘She loved us, always told my mom how much she missed us running around the street.’’ The revelation makes you smile, hoping it was true. He pats the empty space next to him, indicating for you to fill it up with your presence. Once you do, you feel the familiar warmth of his proximity. 

Jungkook seems different and you only hope he’s changed for the best. 

‘‘When are you going back?’’ You ask him with curiosity, hoping that he’ll be in town for a few more days so you can catch up with him on a better note this time around. 

He munches on one of the snacks, ‘‘Tomorrow morning, I have training camp and can’t miss it.’’ His answer makes you sigh with disappointment, but you nod nonetheless. ‘‘What about you?’’ He asks in return, and you inform him that you’ll stay for a few more days to spend time with your family. There’s silence after that and Jungkook can only offer you the gummy worms in the bag, you take one with a small thanks.  

‘‘College fucking sucks,’’ he says out of nowhere and it makes you look at him in bewilderement, ‘‘I hate it there, I wanna drop out so bad. But I’m a year away from graduating so it’s too late now.’’ You see his shoulders visibly relax, like a weight had been lifted off them. ‘‘Plus my mom would kill me if I do so,’’ he adds with a chuckle. 

Last time you asked everything was fine. Had things changed or had they always been this way and he was just now being honest with you?

You rest your head on his shoulder and focus all of your undivided attention on him as he keeps rambling about what his life has been ever since he left this town. He’s had bad games, bad grades, and bad girls. But he’s also had incredible games, good grades, and a couple great hookups, and yet he still feels empty, it’s not enough. 

‘‘I miss you,’’ he mumbles as he faces you, ‘‘I’m sorry for being such a shitty friend, you deserved better.’’ His apology is genuine and you can feel it in the way his voice trembles, sincerity has always scared him after all. 

Jungkook’s never known when the time is right, and he misjudges the look on your face. When he leans down to press his lips against yours, he’s blinded for a mere moment into believing that you wanted to kiss him just as much as he had been waiting. 

You abruptly separate from him with wide eyes and parted lips, ‘‘Jungkook, I’m─I’m dating Namjoon now.’’ He can physically feel his heart shatter, the revelation coming out like an old newspaper headline he should’ve read a long time ago. 

He lets out a breathless chuckle, ‘‘He got over the commitment issues?’’ The rhetorical question is bitter. 

You scoff, ‘‘And what about it? I preferred to wait than to rush into getting my heart broken.’’ Plus it’s not like you were expecting Namjoon to grow feelings for you, the whole no strings attached arrangement was named that way for a reason. 

Jungkook looks at you with narrowed eyes and he shakes his head sightly. Old habits never die down, still so stubborn and challenging as ever. 

He’s startled as you stand abruptly, fuming as you look at him, ‘‘I don’t even know why you care! Did you forget that you threw my Valentine’s Day card into the trash? Or that you kissed Yeji in front of my face? Or that you let Taehyung date me as prank between your friends? Or that you were making out with Eunha while Jimin kept giving me alcohol? Or that you asked Jaehyun to take me to the stupid prom even though I was perfectly fine going without him or anyone for that matter?’’

‘‘We were just kids!’’ Jungkook argues back at you.

‘‘It still fucking hurt,’’ you counter, ‘‘still hurts, actually. You think that by giving me a measly apology and kissing it better I’ll suddenly forget about all of it?’’ Jungkook knows it won’t ever make up for all those years, but he had at least hoped you’d be willing to give him a chance. 

He wishes he could say something else. Explain that he had just tried to protect you in his own shitty way from everyone else or himself maybe, he doesn’t know anymore. He wants to speak up again, but there’s disappointment written all over your face, you’re not angry at him...just saddened. 

‘‘Hope you have fun at your training camp.’’

Jungkook watches as you leave him sitting by himself on the old lady’s doorstep. A hand runs through his hair as he feels his eyes water, and he can almost hear a whisper in the wind that asks him why he didn’t stop you when he could’ve. 

Jungkook didn’t think that his family coming together with yours for Christmas dinner would’ve been a great idea. You’re cold to him at first and it’s fitting for the winter weather, but as always it only takes for him to sit next to you for things to warm up again. 

It’s with the excuse that you’ll run over to your house to grab a new bottle of wine from the kitchen counter that Jungkook trails behind you, both slightly tipsy on the different alcohols your families had offered each other. 

Years have passed since he last stepped foot inside your home, you used to visit him more often than he did anyway. It still smells and looks the same; the only difference is that there’s new pictures of you hung up on the walls, updated accordingly to the changes you’ve made ever since you left off for college.

You’re sporting a big smile in all of them, which in exchange makes him copy the action as well. His lack of presence in your life has done you better than compared to when he was around, and if that’s the case, then at least he did something right. 

There hasn’t been much said since the beginning of the night, just a simple hey out of courtesy. There’s so much he wants to say, but with no clue where to begin. Another apology is due, though he thinks it’s a little too late for that. He also wants to ask about what you’ve been up to since he last saw you, are you still dating the Namjoon guy you had told him about after he kissed you? If he’s still there, Jungkook rather keep quiet and not wonder out loud to you, he’s sure that it’ll hurt if it’s true. 

Growing up Jungkook always mistook your bravery with stubbornness and your courage with relentlessness. You’ve always been challenging, but only because you wanted him to do so too. It’s moments like this that prove him that you’ve always been the stronger between the two.

‘‘So, we’re just gonna pretend like nothing’s wrong between us?’’ You ask, speaking directly to him for the first time that night. It makes him look at you like a deer stuck in headlights, surprised by the sudden question and out of all the years of knowing each other, he feels small under your gaze for once. ‘‘How much time is it going to pass until you want to finally talk things like adults?’’ 

Jungkook gulps the lump in his throat, his brain quickly thinking of the right thing to say, ‘‘I just wanted to protect you from─’’

‘‘From what? From you? Everytime you’ve done that I end up getting hurt in the end. I’m left to pick the pieces up by myself,’’ you interject with anger in your voice. ‘‘It fucking pisses me off that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you kissing me, I haven’t stopped thinking about you and─’’ A sigh, you close your eyes to center yourself again as Jungkook waits for the final blow, ‘‘and you look like none of this has ever bothered you in the slightest because, you don’t really care about me do you?’’

‘‘I do care about you.’’ He’s sure about it, even though he’s been extremely bad at showing it. 

Even though your eyes are threatening to spill tears, you still muster up the last bit of what’s left of your courage to step closer to him until you’re a few inches away. ‘‘Prove it, then. Show me that you care.’’ 

His brain is sent into quick overdrive due to your close proximity. There’s a slight hesitation because he only hopes that what he’s about to do is what you’re demanding him to prove. He doesn’t care if you’re still dating the Namjoon guy because he’s settled with the idea that it’s okay if you don’t correspond, it’s not like he did the same to you when you were both younger. 

Once his lips press against yours, there’s no turning back. He’s waiting for you to push him back and let him know that your heart’s still taken, but you kiss him with such fervor that he knows in that moment that you’re right, it’s better to wait than to rush right in. 

It’s no fairytale kiss, though. There’s desperation in the way you chase his lips, as if you were to slow down he’d find a way to escape from you. You grip the cotton material of his crewneck into your small fists, holding on to the fabric like your life depended on it. The small kiss you had both shared last year was nothing compared to this, and Jungkook’s taken aback by your neediness. 

He doesn’t know how you manage to drag him to your childhood bedroom without missing a beat, only separating once you both realize you need to catch your breaths, and even then Jungkook can’t have a minute to take just happened in because your lips attach to his neck to get more of a taste. His fingers curled around your arm, sighing at the way your kisses felt like electricity on his skin. 

‘‘Y/N,’’ he calls your name out in a breathy tone, but you’re too immersed in your little bubble to even realize it. 

Jungkook groans when you bite into the skin of his neck, then blowing over the red mark as you kissed it better. It’s going to be bruise and he doesn’t like when that happens, but he’s not bothered at all if it comes from you. He forcibly grabs your chin so you can face him, looking at him with big eyes, a small pout, and with your chin messed with drool. 

It’s then that Jungkook kisses you hungrily, making you feel like you’re in a dream-like state,  though you could partially blame the Christmas eggnog for that. The way he bites at your lips and how your tongues clash together is an extreme juxtaposition as to how you could describe this moment. It’s as if you’re floating on air, clouds surrounding you in a heavenly embrace, angels singing in the background every time his hands touch, grab, hold and caress every part of your body. And yet, even with such a difference, it’s perfect because it’s Jungkook. You’ve been waiting for this too long, which is why your hands creep beneath his crewneck, touching his tonified abdomen tentatively and enjoying the way goosebumps arise on his skin at the sensation of your fingers trailing patterns wherever they caress.  

It’s only fair that he pays attention to yours as well. Jungkook’s lips trail from your mouth onto your jawline, planting wet kisses on each space until he begins sucking on the skin of your neck, making you moan in the process. He chooses then that his new favorite sound is the way you voice out the pleasure he gives you. ‘‘Hurry up,’’ you say, ridding the bottom of the crewneck higher over his stomach, making him shiver at the sudden change of temperature. 

Jungkook chuckles before completely getting rid of the material, ‘‘Calm down,’’ he sighs as he gives you a sweet smile, ‘‘You know our moms could talk forever.’’ 

You ogle his chest, admiring the way his training camps have obviously done wonders to his body. ‘‘It’s not them I’m talking about,’’ you correct him with a teasing smile that only makes his grin grow wider, chuckling at your impatience. Jungkook lets out a small gasp of surprise when your hands grasp at his shoulder blades, turning him around so you can back him until the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed. It’s funny how he lets himself be bossed around by someone who’s way smaller compared to his frame.

Jungkook finds leverage on his elbows splayed against the mattress, your knees resting on each side of his hips as you leaned into him and kissing him just as widely as you had done before. Jungkook could fill just how quick things were escalating, especially the way his crotch area was beginning to become a problem he couldn’t possibly control at the moment, not with your own being directly on top of it. In any other situation he would’ve apologized with an awkward laugh, but his breath hitches once your hips start grinding over him.  

His hands make their way on the inside of your knitted sweater, provoking goosebumps on the exposed skin. You let out a shaky laugh, halting your movements so you can quickly get rid of the fabric as Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in surprise at your haste and then at the sight of your bra covered breasts. His hands are still steadily placed on each side of your waist, only brought up because your own had redirected them over your breasts, hoping he gets the message on what you want him to do now.   

Jungkook hesitantly squeezed one of the round globes, provoking a small moan to come from out of your lips. He wishes to hold you as close as he possibly can because the idea of ever being away from you again has been his main fear as of lately. But he refrains, you look so delicate and he feels like you could easily break. He stares at your body lovingly and your cheeks heat up at the way his eyes ogle your chest like a kid in a candy story. You give his arm a light slap and he chuckles, leaning over you to place a passionate kiss on your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he says frankly. It doesn’t help to dissipate the flush on your face, but the compliment doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Jungkook leans in to trail kisses past your collarbones and into the swell of your breasts, making you bite your lip with anticipation. He looks at you asking for permission and you nod quickly with parted lips as you start to become impatient for him to make his next move. Jungkook lowers the cups of your breasts, freeing your hardened nipples and immediately envelopes one of them with his lips. “Mph—!” A sigh escapes your lips as you try to memorize the way his tongue traces over your tit. He pays attention to your other one, fingers rolling over the bud and pinching ever so often. 

You can feel your panties damp by then, trespassing into the fabric of the black leggings you’re wearing over them. Reaching behind your back, you fumble in unclasping the hooks of the now uncomfortable bra. Jungkook’s forced to stop the undivided attention he had places on your breasts to look at you like he’s lost, why are you going so fast? 

Once your hands delve with the buckle of his belt, he has to hold on to your wrists with a firm grasp, ‘‘What are you doing?’’ He asks with quick breath, you blink stoically towards him. 

‘‘Uh─getting you naked?’’ You answer with a nonchalant tone, but his hands don’t let go and your demeanor changes, ‘‘D-Did you not want this?’’ Your voice turns smaller, embarrassed that maybe you had pressured him into something he didn’t want to participate in. 

Jungkook quickly shakes his head no, ‘‘No, I-I do want this! It’s just─you’re going so fast,’’ he tries to explain, ‘‘I’ve been waiting for this for too long, I don’t wanna rush.’’ Your eyes lit up at the revelation as he waits for you to answer back, only for his back to hit the comforter with a small thud, giggling at the way you urgently kiss him again, but this time with much more care. 

‘‘Why didn’t you say so before, stupid?’’ You mumble with a sheepish look, ‘‘I thought it was just going to be─nevermind, I need you right now.’’ You have to force yourself from spitting out any details that could possibly ruin the moment between you two, deciding to wait instead for any emotional confessions you want to make. 

He switches positions between the two, panting as he brings you down to the mattress and Jungkook can feel the goosebumps on your skin, whether from the coldness of the room or because of the sheer electricity of his hands caressing your body like it was molded just right for him. He dips his hand lower, cupping your clothed heat on his hand. It makes you tremble and you whine, encouraging him to keep going. 

“Baby, you’re really wet,” he comments with a teasing tone and you pout at him. His fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings and he pulls them down as he travels with them, greeted by the sight of the damp cloth of your panties. He exhales with content, caressing your thighs in an up and down motion. You twist underneath him and he has to hold your hips down to calm you down, “Patience is a virtue.” 

“I’ve been too patient, do some—Ah!” Your whining is interrupted once Jungkook moves your underwear to the side holding it with his free hand, fingers coming to trace the slick covering your pussy lips. He becomes entranced with the transparent gooey liquid, bringing them close to his face as he separates his fingers and sees a strand connecting between them. “Guk-ah, p-please…” Your needy voice brings him back to reality, delving his fingers back into your exposed heat but this time with intent. 

Jungkook’s thumb lifts the hood covering your clit, mouth coming down to give it a small tentative kiss. That action alone has you writhing above him, it makes him chuckle to himself as he dives back in. The moans you let out are loud and clear inside your bedroom, thankful that it’s only you and him inside your house. Your hand pulls at his hair, making him groan against you and the vibrations are felt throughout your body, only adding to the euphoric pleasure you already possess. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs until they reach your entrance, circling the fluttering hole which makes you pull at his hair harder and with your other you hold on to the bedsheets of the comforter tightly into your fist. 

Jungkook’s tongue is still working your engorged bud, but he focuses his eyes on you as he dips the first finger inside you. “Oh—fuck,” you let out in a breathy moan. He tries to maintain a rhythm between his two ministrations, but it’s hard when he wants to focus on all of them at once. “‘Nother, please,” you begged once he let your clit rest, quickly following your request by adding another into your warm heat. He lets out a breathless chuckle as he notices how easy it is to thrust both fingers inside of you, your whole crotch area is covered in slick and his wet chin is a dead giveaway to where he was seconds ago. 

He watches you unravel over him with such adoration, not even his wettest dreams or dirtiest fantasies could prepare him for this. Seven minutes in heaven he plans to stay in forever. “Guk-ah, I wan’ you. I-Inside, please.” You plead with teary eyes, and he slowly stops, removing his arousal covered fingers from inside you as he makes you sigh in the process. He kisses you again and again, your hazy brain is probably hallucinating all of this right now, but damn is it good. You tug at the crewneck he’s wearing, he’s too overdressed for this occasion. He tends to your demands, quickly getting rid of all the layers of clothing that stop him from being inside of you fully. 

“I don’t have a—“ 

“I’m on the pill.”

You both speak at the same time, making each other chuckle. Jungkook gulps at the idea of taking you raw as the first time together, and you salivate at his hardened length; the head already oozing precum out and you want nothing more than to wrap your lips around it and lick the tip up. You’re just about to when Jungkook quickly grabs your wrist to stop you from reaching him, you look up at him with the big sparkly eyes he has loved for too long. 

“I just—I wanna be inside you right now,” he sheepishly admits, and you smile with a nod; sharing the sentiment. You back up until your head rests on the pillows comfortably, relaxing into the mattress as you wait for Jungkook to ready himself. He places a kiss on your lips before placing a hand next to your head, using it as leverage above you. His free hand takes his cock and rubs the tip along your folds, making you squirm with anticipation. Jungkook chuckles, “Are you ready?” He asks with a sweet smile. 

“I’ve always been,” you whisper, your hand tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear. 

A caress to his cheek as he nods, slowly pushing the head of his dick into you. You bite into your lip hard, it’s been a while since you had sex with someone and Jungkook’s size and girth was different from the rest. Your walls are tight around him and he has a tough time trying to reach the hilt with you squeezing him so hard, “Baby, relax for me.” He pleads and you nod apologetically, breathing in deep as you feel him reach parts inside of you, you didn’t know existed. Once he’s all the way in, he waits for you to give him the go ahead while he presses kisses into your heated cheek. You wrap your legs around his waist and give him a nod, letting him know he was allowed to start thrusting.

Jungkook manages to hit all the right places, keeping a steady pace as he enters and exits you each time. You’re left to moan and writhe underneath him, letting him take you as he pleases. Your kisses become messy, teeth biting into each other’s lips, teeth grazing against each other as you both tried to fight for the dominant position. It’s that heavy makeout that incites you to push at his shoulders, making him turn in his back, exiting you in the process. Jungkook pants, chest rising and falling with quickness as you straddle his lap, arms connecting behind his neck. 

“You always want to win, right?” He chuckles with half lidded eyes, enjoying the way your pussy lips grinded over his twitching length. You bat your eyelashes at him, offering him an innocent smile. The same technique that used to get you everything you wanted when you were younger. Same determination as you seek for what’s yours. He’s under you after all, still a victim to your charms.

Jungkook takes the bulbous head of his cock and teases it in your clit, if you weren’t holding on to him tight you would’ve collapsed into his chest. And by the way you moan his name out, he knows you’ll always look for him no matter the weather. “What a pretty girl,” he coos into your hair and you pinch his nipple in retaliation which only makes him groan in return. “My pretty girl.” He states before sinking himself deep into you again, sighing at the feeling of your hips circling over him. His rough hands guide them as you bounce up and down his length, moaning every time you rose and hissing when you came back down. 

He makes sure to keep this image engraved on his head forever. Your breasts bouncing over his face, your thighs working extra hard to keep up with his thrusts, and the way your sounds bounced off the walls of your bedroom. 

“You’re doing s-so good, baby.” Jungkook praises you, kneading your ass cheek. “Taking my cock s-so well,” he falls into a trance of admiring the way his length would appear and disappear inside of you, covered in a thick layer of your arousal. It makes him drill into you faster, sitting properly against the bed’s headboard as he takes your hips with force. He’s too turned on to keep treating you so delicately, and the way you moan and pant at the increase in speed only lets him know you enjoy him like this way more. “I-Is it good, baby? Am I-I fucking you well?” He asks in between rapid thrusts, your thighs had given out by then. 

You nod and a whimper escapes your lips, “Y-yes, Guk-Ah. S-so good, feels amazing.” Your praise is honest, the fucked out tone in your voice is a clear indicator of how well of a job he was doing. A minute longer and you’ll be right on cloud nine, never wanting to come back down. “Wanna cum Guk-Ah, plea—“ There’s no need for you to even finish your sentence because his thumb rubs your clit in figure eights, making you groan with the intensified feeling of his hips circling inside you deliciously. You can almost see the blinding white light ahead as Jungkook kisses you feverishly. You feel tears escape the corners of your high, the familiar feeling tickling inside you as Jungkook’s thrusts don’t let up. ‘‘Ah! Yes, yes, fuck,’’ you cry out once your orgasm hits. Jungkook holds you close to his chest, trying to soothe your shaking body with his arms. Your walls squeeze and relax continuously around him, it serves him as the impulse he needs to chase his own high. 

‘‘I love you, Jungkook,’’ you confess in between panting breaths, ‘‘so much.’’ 

His release shoots out and he groans, digging crescent moons into your hips. You hiss at the sensation, but giggle at how his eyes are screwed shut and brows still furrowed together, as if he was holding on to the last of his orgasm. In reality, Jungkook is just hoping that once he opens his eyes you’ll still be in his arms. Your fingers tilting his head to face you are very much real, he sees spots once he opens his eyes as they adjust to the room’s lighting. 

‘‘I love you too.’’ He says with a fixed gaze and you coo at how perfect this is.

You’re twenty-two when Jungkook’s finally yours.

You’re both twenty-three and it’s another weekend spent at his apartment, he’s been playing for three hours now and you’ve given up on having him pay attention to you. Deciding to switch your plan around and join him instead, if only he would let you play.

‘‘Jungkook, you said it was going to be my turn five rounds ago!’’ You complain with a pout, crossing your arms across your chest. 

His gaze is still stuck on the T.V screen, ‘‘Baby, shhh, you’re gonna make me lose.’’ He mumbles as he tries to remain concentrated on the game in hand, but he can hear your humph’s from behind him, ‘‘Patience is a─’’

‘‘Virtue, yeah, who cares.’’ You interrupt him with a roll of your eyes, familiar with the saying a little too well. ‘‘Hope you remember that for later tonight,’’ you add in a mumble, but he doesn’t hear it because of the loud sounds coming from the game on the screen. 

‘‘What did you say, babe?’’ He asks with a raised brow, hitting the buttons of the controller with expert ease. 

‘‘I’ll call your mom and tell her you don’t wanna share.’’ You joke with a threatening voice, but Jungkook knows better than to take your words so lightly. He pauses the game and turns to look at you with an are you serious? expression on his face, you giggle as you’ve finally got what you wanted. 

He apologizes by covering your face with kisses, pleading for you not to tell on him with his mom. You promise not to do so this time, knowing that the woman was probably tired of having to scold his son at his big age. 

Plus, ever since Jungkook surprised you with the almost exact replica of the Valentine’s Day card you gave him all those year back, you’ve taken advantage to tease him even more knowing he’s at your beck and call. You always remind him that he came close because the stickers he used were not like the ones you had, but he remembered to add the hearts on the I’s so that’s good enough. 

‘‘Alright you can play, but━!’’ He says after he finishes his attack of kisses, ‘‘I’ll be your guide, I can’t risk you messing my record up, no offense baby.’’ None taken as you nod excitedly, you’ll always take whatever chance he gives you. 

Jungkook’s finally learned how to share his toys after all.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol.6 Sakamaki Subaru Animate Tokuten CD

Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol. 6 逆巻スバル アニメイト 各巻購入特典ドラマCD

Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 6 Sakamaki Subaru Animate Tokuten CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Takashi Kondou

Translator’s note: I don’t know if they are popular in other countries too but aquarium dates have always struck me as such a typical Japanese thing. I’ve seen it so often in anime/dramas/etc. but in real life, I’ve never really heard of two people going on a date to an aquarium. :p If anything, it’s mostly just parents with their children visiting those places. I loved all of Subaru’s little tsundere moments where he would grow jealous over the fish because they captured his S/O’s attention. xD His bolder attitude near the end of the CD wasn’t half bad either. <u<

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

The two of you are walking in public.

“Che...This fuckin’ sucks...The aquarium lures in visitors at night as well!? ...Do you really enjoy comin’ here with me?”

You nod, smiling.

“...! ...I see. Damn, guess you give me no other choice. I’ll keep you company then.”

Subaru suddenly comes to a halt.

“This pool attracted more people than I would have expected. What’s happenin’ over here?”

You explain.

"The Dolphin Night Show? Hmー”

You ask if he would like to watch.

“I don’t mind but are there any open seats left?”

You point.

“Hm? ...Ah, you’re right. Guess we can sit down there then.”

The two of you walk towards your seats.

*Splash*

“Oh. Seems like it started already.”

*Splash splash*

“Ah...Hm...”

*SPLASH*

“Haah...

...The fuck’s so interestin’ ‘bout this? It’s just a bunch of dolphins jumpin’ in the air and headbuttin’ some balls. ...Say? How much longer will this go on fo...Oh...Fuck. Look at her watchin’ in awe like a damn kid...”

*Splash splash*

You suddenly turn your head towards Subaru.

“...Eh? W-W-What!?”

You ask why he was looking.

“...W-Who says I was lookin’ at you!? Don’t be gettin’ the wrong idea, geez!”

The crowd cheers.

“M-More importantly, the dolphins are ‘bout to pull somethin’ again so shouldn’t you watch that?”

You turn your attention back to the show.

“...They call it a ‘big jump’ but is this shit really worth gettin’ so excited over?”

*SPLASH*

“...Woah! Amazin’...! So high...!”

The two of you get splashed with water in the process.

“...Ugh.”

*Clap clap clap*

“The water splashed all the way over here, huh...? ...O-Oi!? Are you alright!? ーー Actually, you got pretty soaked. Do you have anythin’ to wipe yourself down?”

You start rummaging through your bag.

*Rustle rustle*

“Aah...Then use that towel.”

You offer to wipe his hair as well. 

“...Hah? Nah, I’m good.”

You insist.

“I don’t catch colds, so it’s fine. Instead you should worry ‘bout yourself, right? Your hair got wet as well so hurry up and wipe it.”

You act tough.

“Hell no it’s ‘fine’. ...Gimme. I’ll do it.”

You become hesitant.

“Oi! How am I supposed to wipe your hair when you back away like that? Come closer!”

Subaru scoots closer. 

“Keep still, ‘kay?”

*Rustle rustle*

“...There we go. Guess that should do. ...Your clothes aren’t that wet at least. ...Oi. Why are you all tensed up? Also, your face’s red. D-Don’t tell me...You’ve got a fever!?”

You explain.

“...Hah? I’m too close? ...!! D-Don’t get all flustered over every single lil’ thing...!”

He moves away a little.

“Here, you can have your towel back. Also...Wear my jacket.”

Subaru throws his jacket your way.

*Thud*

“Stop complainin’ and just put it on. It didn’t get wet and...It should help you warm up a lil’ at least. I don’t want you...to catch a cold. (1)”

You thank him.

“No need to thank me, honestly. ...The show has ended so should we go to the next thing? There’s still other stuff you wanted to see, no?”

You nod before the two of you get up from your seats.

*TIMESKIP*

“...That bein’ said, the inside of an aquarium is darker than I expected. You better not trip, ‘kay? “

You tell him that won’t happen.

“Heh. I wonder? You’re a huge klutz, aren’t you? You’d definitely trip and fall while gettin’ distracted by the fish.”

You puff out your cheeks and protest. 

“Heh. Let’s see ‘bout that. ...Let’s go.”

You suddenly stop walking.

“Hm? What’s wrong? ...Oh, jellyfish.”

You note that they are very beautiful. 

“...Aah? What’s so pretty ‘bout these gelatinous blobs? They lit up, that’s all, right?”

You continue to look at them.

“...You like these guys?”

You suddenly start dragging Subaru towards the tank with jellyfish.

*Rustle*

“...Wah!? ...F-Fine! You want to go there, right!? Don’t pull me!”

You are totally excited about watching the jellyfish.

“Are they really that beautiful? They’re just floatin’, right? I don’t get the appeal at all...”

You continue to watch the jellyfish in awe.

“Haah...She’s totally enraptured by those damn jellyfish...I don’t get chicks...”

He continues to watch you in silence.

“...You’ve seen enough, right? Let’s go already.”

You want to watch the jellyfish just a little longer. 

“Che...I’m goin’ ahead. I’ll leave you behind if you take too long!”

You try and chase after him but nearly trip in the process.

“...! Watch ouーー!”

Subaru catches you in his arms just in time.

*Thud*

“...Ugh. Haah...See, what did I tell you? You almost landed on the floor. You really are so clumsy.”

Your cheeks flush bright red.

“Wait. ...Hmm~? Look at those flushed cheeks...You’re basically tellin’ me I’m free to do what I want, right? In that case, I won’t hold back. I’ll suck you to my heart’s content, right here, right now.”

You protest.

“I won’t wait. If you don’t behave, I’m gonna rip apart your throat with my fangs.”

You immediately keep still. 

“Hehe. Perfect. Just be a good girl, and I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

Subaru nearly bites you but other people arrive.

“ーー Ugh. There’s visitors approachin’, huh? ...Fuck off.”

You frown.

“Oi, don’t get all worried over some other people.”

You shake your head.

“It’s not ‘impossible’. All you need to do is focus on me.”

You insist.

“Haah...Guess you leave me no other choice. If you’re that desperate, I guess I won’t suck you here.”

You sigh in relief.

“Why do you seem so relieved? I won’t suck you here, but you better don’t believe this is the end.”

*Rustle*

“If we can’t do it here, we can simply go somewhere a lil’ more private, right? In that case, we can both have some fun.”

Subaru grabs your hand.

“Let’s head home. We’ll continue where we left off once inside our room. ...I’ll give you my love until you fall apart.”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says he would be troubled if she were to catch a cold, however, the expression ‘I don’t want you’ sounded more natural to me in English. 

[sailorbellewrites]

More Than You Can Chew

characters— taehyung x reader (aka kiddo) (ft. members of bts)

summary— taehyung has been (not so quietly) obsessed with the young rapper who eats glazed donuts at the corner table every saturday night for some time now. but everyone thinks dating her is biting off more than he can chew. 

information— one shot. fluff. femme reader. character inspired by megan thee stallion, cardi b, and lil’ kim. longer than previous works. same universe as “no limit”, now titled the baking news au. there will be a second part to this titled jawbreaker, which will be released later this month.

warnings— strong language. mean & aggressive characters. casual mentions of sex and sexual behavior (but no smut because i’m shy). excessive mentions of the color pink. vague mentions of other celebrities and influencers. taehyung is an adorable tryhard.

more than you can chew—

On the outside looking in, Yoongi was kind of an asshole. He didn’t speak much and when he did, he never had anything nice to say. His face was void of most emotions, except for the sour expression that would develop when Hoseok laughed too loud in the backseat of your car. The happiest you had ever seen him was when the aforementioned male got too excited during a cypher and fell off the stage. Yoongi laughed hysterically for 30 minutes, much to Hoseok’s annoyance. He spent more time in the studio than he did with his fiancée, a fact that resulted in her calling off the wedding three times in the past year. He always wore black, even in the dead of summer. On the inside looking in, he was much worse. That’s why it’s all too easy to tell him “no” when he asks for a favor.

“Awww, come on Kiddo.”

“Fuck off.”

“I never ask you for shit—”

“So why ruin a good thing and start now?” Yoongi rolls his eyes at your words, body falling into the chair across from you. You eye his limp form slowly, appraising the black hoodie and ripped jeans combination he often gravitated to. He looked good, you had to admit. He always did. Yoongi had the bad boy aesthetic down pat, to the point where it came off as effortless. It wasn’t any wonder as to why girls threw themselves at him during club appearances. If you didn’t know what he was really like (and if he wasn’t dating your friend), you might have tried to bed him too. But you mostly envied Yoongi’s appearance, envied how easy he made dressing and rapping and just about everything look. You were always walking a fine line between putting forth too much effort and being called a try hard bitch or putting forth too little and being accused of looking for a handout. You sighed; being a woman in your industry was tough. “Where’s Hope?”

“DJ owes him money or something. He was pissed.” You shake your head, knowing just how intense an angry Hoseok could be. While you could only count on one hand the amount of times you’d seen him truly filled with rage, each new moment was much more scary than the last. The last time ended with him put in handcuffs, though you were able to talk the cop out of actually taking him to the station. “Not important. You need to do this thing for me.”

“No.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

You snort at the cheesy line he deploys. “I’m telling your fiancée you said that.” Yoongi shrugs, as though he was not at all scared of his lover’s wrath. As much as he claimed to hate the drama of their relationship, he often did nothing to stop it. In fact, you would find him actively stoking the flames. You suspect he gets off on it. “You’re such a dickhead. You know you don’t deserve her, right?”

“Whatever. If you do this thing, I’ll buy you donuts everyday for a week.”

You slam your hands flat on the table in front of you, using the extra stability to lean yourself closer to him. “You buy me donuts everyday for a month, original glazed only, and you pay full price,” you bargain in a low voice. You are fully aware of how ridiculous you look, perched on the table like some low level gangster, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Shame was a feeling no longer within you.

Yoongi scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head before you even finish your proposal. “I have never paid full price here and I’m not gonna start now.”

You push yourself off of your table, throwing your hands up in the air. “Take it or leave it!”

“You don’t even know what I want you to do.”

“Take it or leave it!” You repeat even louder.

Yoongi curses under his breath, knowing he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. He shoots a quick glance behind him, instantly met with the wide expectant eyes of the bakery worker now playing cashier. Looking back at you, he sees you pretending to check your nails—long, pink, and sharp—as though you were bored by him. He scoffs again, wondering why he let his partner drag him into this situation before stating, “Okay, fine. Two donuts, everyday, for a month. Will you do it?”

You smirk, crossing your arms in victory as you lean back in your chair. “Sure. Now what am I doing for you?”

“Going on a date with your hero.”

.

.

Kim Taehyung has had a crush on you for some time now. It was no secret to anyone who frequented the small yellow bakery; he’d been smitten from the first day—or rather night—that you walked into Baking News. You looked like a model as you strut through the building, high waisted leather pants accentuating your curves and cleavage pushed up to ten in a lacy pink crop top. You ordered two original glazed donuts before he could even stutter out the pun filled greeting Seokjin had come up with, smirk settled on your lips as though you knew just how much you affected him. When he gave them to you half off because it was so close to closing, you called him your hero. He thought your voice sounded like honey. Taehyung was caught in a trance the rest of the night night, and quickly found himself being wrapped up in thoughts of you every time you walked through those glass doors.

He’s asked you out a few times. Movies, cafes, museums, and the park were all on the table for you to pick up at any time, but you never did. You had every excuse under the sun for why you couldn’t go out with him; you were always too tired, too busy, too unavailable. It made sense, in some ways. Rappers were like that. Or at least, that’s what he told himself to ease the sting of rejection. He held onto his hope that you would eventually say yes because, in truth, you had never given him a concrete “no”. Attached to every excuse of why you couldn’t go out with him was the promise of a “next time”. That “next time” is what kept him going, kept him giving you half priced glazed donuts even when it wasn’t closing time, kept his attraction to you alive.

Naturally, though, he got tired of waiting. Seeing Seokjin’s relationship flourish right before his eyes only made him want you more. He wished he could sit you on the counter and kiss you until he couldn’t breathe, wished he could bring you to the kitchen and “ice cakes” (if he was using Seokjin’s terminology). Taehyung was tired of being kept at arm's length. He couldn’t understand what he was missing; what you didn’t see in him. He knew you found him attractive. He heard you say it to Yoongi’s girlfriend before, hearing your “definitive ranking of the Baking News men” as he wiped down the table behind you. But attraction clearly wasn’t enough. Not for you, it seemed.

Luck was on Taehyung’s side one sunny Sunday morning in April, when Yoongi’s girlfriend rushed into the shop with an embarrassed look on her face. He had known the girl people affectionately called Boo for years, having gone to college with her and her sister, but they weren’t close. She was much more attached to Jungkook (in spite of her relationship with Yoongi), having spent lots of time outside of the bakery walls with the younger man. Thus, the beeline she made for Taehyung was strange; even stranger was the desperate plea she frantically whispered in his ear asking if he could give her two dozen glazed donuts and two cups of hot chocolate for free.

“You know I can’t do th—”

“Okay, but just lis—”

“Boo, my boss would kill m—

"I will lose the maid of honor at my wedding if you don’t do this for me!” She shouted out in clear cut frustration, only to slap her own hand over her mouth in shock. She looked around the bakery pitifully and, noting all of the eyes trained on her, lowered her voice. “Look, Yoongi and I got into it at the club last night—bad. He threw my wallet somewhere. We couldn’t find it. I’ll pay you back when I get all my new cards, I promise. You know I’m good for it. But if I don’t bring some kind of peace offering to her, she won’t be in the wedding.”

Taehyung’s eyes squinted in confusion. “I don’t get why you need donuts for this friend when you’re fighting with your boyfriend.”

“Well he’s my fiancé  for starters.”

“Sure, sure,” Taehyung responded with an eye roll, motioning his hand for the woman in front of him to continue.

“And… I may have forgotten that I was her ride back home. She ended up walking by herself… in the rain.”

“Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you?” Taehyng chided, now understanding the source of her odd behavior. “I understand why your friend would want to quit your wedding. You’re an asshole.”

“I am not—listen, that's not the point. The point is… I need the donuts and the hot chocolate. That’s the only way I can start getting back on her good side. If I don’t, she’s never gonna talk to me again. She holds a grudge like you wouldn’t believe. She’s worse than Yoongi.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue, not exactly moved by her story, but knowing she wouldn’t take another “no” easily. “Why don’t you ask Jungkook? He won’t get fired, no matter how much he messes up. It’s too high of a risk for me.”

“I would, but she says you’re the only one who makes the hot chocolate right. Something about always putting caramel or cinnamon in there and that Jungkook doesn’t know how to do it. It has to be you.” Taehyung’s throat dried up at her words, understanding that this friend wasn’t just some random girl with a donut obsession; this friend was you.

Taehyung liked working the cafe side of the bakery more than the others. He didn’t hate icing cakes or kneading dough, but he thoroughly enjoyed the interaction that came from making the quick drinks and packaging small desserts. He could also keep his eye on you more easily when working the counter. That’s how he learned that you loved warm, sweet drinks, particularly when you were having a bad day. However, you found the bakery’s hot chocolate missing something; so Taehyung started experimenting with adding extra flavors to your order. When you told him that you liked the vanilla/cinnamon combination the best, he always made sure to add those for you, regardless of if you asked for it specifically or not. He didn’t do this for anyone else though; didn’t care to see anyone else smile the way you did when you lifted the cup to your lips and took a sip. So it had to be you that Yoongi’s girlfriend was talking about, because you were the only person who got special hot chocolate.

“Okay,” Taehyung said, voice confident, “I’ll get the things ready for you now. Should take about five minutes.”

“Wait… really?” The woman asked, a big smile spreading on her face. “Oh my god, I’m so relieved. You are saving my weddin—no, you are saving my life!  I’ll pay you back in like a week, tops. I promise! I’ll even pay extra.”

“You don’t have to pay me back,” Taehyung said quickly, throwing his hands up. “I’ll cover it. Money is not that important. It would be like 15 thousand at most. You don’t need to stress over 15 thousand.”

“Oh,” she responded with a pout, voice deflating. “Well… I can’t do nothing… that would be using you. I’m not Yoongi; I don’t use people. What can I give you to pay you back if not money?” 

Taehyung shrugs, unsure of what the woman in front of him could possibly give him before it dawns on him. “A date.”

“A date? With me?”

He scoffs. “With your friend. Get her to agree to go out with me just once and we’re more than even.” For a moment, Boo looks as though she is going to say no. Taehyung knew it would be a hard sell for you, not only accepting your friend’s apology, but then agreeing to go on a date to pay for that apology. But he can see her resolve strengthen and she gives him a firm nod.

That’s how Taehyung ends up sitting across from you on a chilly Tuesday night, watching you fiddle with the tangled up wires of your earbuds and phone charger. Your studio was small, but brighter than Taehyung anticipated. The walls were white, lit up by pink fairy lights that had small polaroid photos pinned between each bulb. The love seat and rolling desk chair you were currently sitting in were a pale grey color, but held bright pink and yellow throw pillows. On your desk were two white computer monitors, a set of studio monitors, a pink MIDI controller, a black control surface, and a set of rose gold over ear headphones with the word ‘kiddo’ engraved on each side. The whole space was, for lack of a better term, girly. Far girlier than you had ever presented yourself to Taehyung; but, as you told him, the design was on purpose. 

“They’re so dark all the time,” you murmur, followed by a short ‘ah’ as you finally get all the cords untangled and manage to plug in your phone. You turn in your chair to face him, annoyed expression on your face as you continue, “every single one of them have these ugly black walls and stupid pictures of naked girls all over the place. I swear, half of them are hard every time they record. It’s suffocating and awkward. When I finally got the money to get my own studio, I had to make sure the space prioritized my comfort. You know?”

“I do,” Taehyung whispers back in awe. He decides he loves listening to you talk. Your voice was already the sweetest that he had ever heard, but your way with words was even better. The way you put words together always garnered a reaction from him, even if you weren’t trying. It wasn’t any wonder why you became a rapper. “How do the guys in your crew feel when they record here?”

“Hope doesn’t mind it, but everyone else thinks it’s excessive. I get it. It doesn’t fit the whole Kiddo image.”

“Why do they call you Kiddo, anyway? That’s nothing like your real name.” Taehyung asks, placing his elbows on his knees and holding his own face in his hands as he waits patiently for your answer. 

You hum as you think of it, mirroring his pose in your chair and Taehyung didn’t think you could get any cuter than you were now. You were a far cry from the barely there outfits he often saw you wear in the bakery before (or occasionally after) performances, wearing a pink sweater dress that was two sizes too big if the way it swallowed you up was any indication. He just wanted to hold you in his arms, but he wasn’t sure you were there yet. It had only been two hours that he had been in the studio in which you insisted the date take place and you had kept your physical affection to a minimum. At most, you poked his shoulder and cheek when teasing him about the puns he had to say when taking orders at work. However, the conversation flowed so naturally and you hadn’t asked him to leave yet; he was sure the night would end with you feeling something more for him than before.

“You know the movie Kill Bill? The main character’s real name is Beatrix Kiddo.”

“You named yourself after a movie assassin?”

“Oh no. That would be so generic and cliche. Suga actually picked out the name. When I first started out, I was going by something completely different. But I covered this song called "Chill Bill" that got a lot of attention a couple years ago and someone commented that I… I think they said I killed or murdered the beat like Kiddo or something. I can’t really remember the exact thing too well. Anyway, Suga thought that it would be a good voice tag and then the tag became a nickname and… well here we are. I’m Kiddo now.”

“Can I listen to the song that inspired the name?”

You sit up abruptly. “Hell no. That song is awful. I’m so much better now.”

“You can’t invite me to your studio and not let me listen to your music. Be a better date,” he teases, causing you to release a small giggle. “You have to let me listen to something at least. What are you working on?”

You shake your head with a small smirk, turning back to face your desk. Your hand grips the mouse and you click around on one of the screens as you move to pull up your latest song. However, you still question him, asking, “Are you sure you want to listen? It’s kind of raunchy.”

“I can handle it.”

“My lyrics aren’t for the faint of heart, Taehyung.”

“Give it to me,” he requests excitedly and you instantly press play. He lets out a loud laugh as soon as he hears the lyrics, instantly understanding their intent even though they are in English. Your warning was more than necessary, as you spit out graphic depictions of sexual acts in a cocky tone of voice. The dichotomy of your current appearance with the words coming out of the speakers only makes him laugh harder, as his brain fails to connect the two personas together.

You stop the song, turning to face him with a shocked look on your face. “Are you really laughing at my music? Seriously?”

“No, no!” He chokes out, waving his hands in the air to show his innocence as his laughter winds down into sporadic giggles. “It’s not like that. I don’t think it’s bad. I’m just surprised by it.” He can tell from the look on your face that you don’t believe him. And Taehyung isn’t sure what comes over him in that moment, but he suddenly finds himself rocking forward to cradle your face in both of his hands as though he was handling fine china. You tense in his grasp, but make no moves to pull away as he whispers, “Don’t look at me like that. I wouldn’t lie to you. The song is good. You just look so much… softer than that song right now. It caught me off guard; but I would never laugh at you. I like you too much to do that.”

His sincerity has you reeling. Although he stopped speaking, he doesn’t let you go. Instead, his eyes study your face like you’re a piece of artwork, committing every new detail he finds to memory as though he’s worried that he’ll never see you again. His eyes finally settle on your lips, becoming lidded as you are able to guess what he wants. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” You question quietly.

“I want to. Are you going to let me?”

“Yes.” He gives you two slow blinks before he bends his head down to slot his lips against yours. 

It’s soft at first, the gentle pressure of his lips coaxing your own open as though he’s still asking for permission. When you angle your head up to move your lips against his better, he lets out a small whimper that sends a shiver up your spine. It continues on like this for a few seconds before he slips tongue inside of your mouth. All hell breaks loose within you then, as you wrap your arms around his neck to get closer to him. This act causes him to finally release your face, hands dropping to your waist. The kiss gets deep, tongues wrestling with each other as he fights against you to take the lead. When the struggle continues for longer than he would like, his hands firmly grip your waist and pull you forward off of your chair until you're straddling his thighs. He wins the battle when he pulls your hips down at the same time that he grinds his hips up. The friction is more intense than you were prepared for, only then remembering the only barrier between your center and his jeans was a thong you had slipped on in haste. He repeats the action once more before pulling away with a big gasp for breath. You rest your forehead against his as you take in deep breaths of your own. You make note of his expression—satisfaction. 

“So is this date as bad as you imagined it being?” He whispers against your lips, fingers running up and down your back gently as he breathing finally calms.

You pout at his question. “Why would you ask that?”

“You avoided it for so long.”

“I… I was… I don’t know,” you stutter out, unsure of how to respond to the call out. It’s hard to think when the room is so hot, when he’s still so close to you, when his crotch is still pressed firmly against your own. “I just didn’t… wanna make things awkward?”

“Are things awkward now?”

“Not really. No.”

“So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“About dating me.”

“You ask a lot of questions, Kim Taehyung. It’s been one date.”

“I just know what I want,” he responds seriously, voice dropping an octave as he makes eye contact with you and holds your stare. “I like you. I like you more now than I did before. I want you. Do you want me too?”

“I… yeah. I guess I like you too. We can… Let’s see where this goes.”

.

.

“Here.” 

You jump up to your feet at the sound of a familiar deep voice. Looking up, you’re met with the sight of a pink cardboard cup wrapped up in pale, ring clad fingers. “You came,” you note, reaching for the cup as you get your first real look at Taehyung that night. He easily lets you have it, hand slipping behind your neck to pull you into for a quick hug. He releases you with a kiss to your temple, a lazy smile sitting on his face that you admittedly find more attractive than you should. You often found yourself wishing that he wasn’t so outwardly handsome; dealing with an attractive partner always causes issues.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He questions. You shrug. Taehyung was easily the most attentive person you ever dealt with. You woke up to emoji filled good morning texts every morning and didn’t hit your bed without a sweet phone call wishing you a good night. He commented on every picture you posted to Instagram, was five minutes early to every date, and sent food to your studio when he knew you were too busy to eat something real. You would have felt suffocated by his intensity if not for the lackadaisical way he went about being with you: most dates ending on his old couch, watching mind numbing TV shows as he cradled you in his arms to talk about nothing. He made you feel precious and that worried you. You were left wondering how he would treat you when he finally realized you weren’t worth your weight in gold.

“What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Why?”

“Boo told me you were stressing.”

“Does this have cinnamon and vanilla in it?”

He rolls his eyes at you in a mock display of annoyance. “Doesn’t it always?”

“My hero,” you coo gently at him, voice upping in pitch as though you were speaking to a child. He doesn’t mind your patronizing tone, responding with a megawatt smile that would make even the most stoic person happy. You take a small sip, letting out a small breath some of the tension you were feeling begins to melt away.

“What were you doing back here?” Taehyung asks, concern pulling at the edges of his words, despite how casual he attempted to sound. He was never good at hiding his emotions when it came to you. You liked that. He never left you guessing at where you stood with him.

“Hiding,” you answer honestly, not ashamed of your actions. You had been crouched behind the club for at least twenty minutes, going over your lyrics and the performance blocking in your head again and again. Rehearsals hadn’t gone well, with Hoseok’s nerves shot due to the knowledge that his favorite producer would be in the building and Yoongi still pissed about some argument he had gotten into with his girlfriend. You also weren’t at your best, anxious about having Taehyung in the audience. He had seen videos of you performing before, but he had never been in the audience. You didn’t know what he would think of the environment and the people that it attracted. He claimed he didn’t scare easy, but everybody did.

“Hiding from what?”

“Just people. You know how I feel about people.”

“You must be glad I’m not just people then, huh?” He joked, hand sneaking over to yours and lacing your fingers together. You let out a non-committal hum that has him tightening his grip in faux warning. “Stop pretending that you don’t like me.”

“What time is it?”

He looks at his watch. “11:34.”

“I’m on in like 40 minutes,” you told him, moving forward to pull him to the front of the club. He lets you lead him, submitting to you more easily than most men would in his situation. Whereas many of the men who found themselves lucky enough to get close to you tried to wear you like an accessory, molding you against their form to make them appear more interesting than they were, Taehyung found solace staying in the background. It was nice.

“There you are!” Hoseok yells as you approach, his voice far higher in pitch than what was normal even for him. He stands in the center of your crew, wearing a distressed look on his face as he scolds you with the same intensity of an overworked stay-at-home mom. “We go up soon. Where have you been?”

“Hiding.”

“Not the fucking time for hiding dumbass,” he snaps at you, making Yoongi laugh. 

The palm of your hand disconnects from Taehyung’s and lands on Hoseok’s chest with a loud thwap before you can blink. The following five hits are more deliberate though, punctuating your words as you shout, “Don’t call me a dumbass!” Hoseok lets out rough grunts at the hits, responding with a harsh shove that sends you flying back into Taehyung. You let out a snarky laugh.

It had taken Taehyung some time to get used to this aspect of your relationship with your friends. They all treated you as though you were one of the guys, pushing and shoving you around with glee in spite of the fact that some of them were much bigger than you. You always matched their energy though, whether physically or verbally. You never backed down, which is why they seemed to respect you. Still, it was hard for Taehyung to watch you roughhouse with them. He was afraid there would be a day it would go too far, although you were adamant that you could always handle yourself.

“Alright now, children, let’s calm down,” Yoongi said in a condescending tone. “We have to work soon, no fighting on stage.”

“Are you ready?” Hoseok asks, ignoring Yoongi’s words.

“Are you ready?” You parrot back, much to his clear annoyance. “I’m not the one who forgot my lyrics today. Are you ready?”

“Let’s just go inside,” Yoongi groaned out, making his way towards the entrance of the club in a way that demanded everyone else follow suit. 

A VIP section of tables is where you lead Taehyung, sitting him down in a seat next to Yoongi’s girlfriend. “You should be able to see us really well from here,” you note, playing with the rings that adorn his fingers. “Nobody should mess with you either. If they do, tell her,” you instruct, nodding your head towards your friend currently having her own private discussion with Yoongi, “because she’s worse than me.”

“I heard that!” The girl in question yells back. You roll your eyes and press your lips quickly against Taehyung’s own before you make your way to the stage. “Oh fuck, who invited them?” The woman sitting next to him mutters angrily, pointedly staring at three men who walk into the section and take a seat at a table adjacent to where Taehyung is seated. He doesn’t recognize them, though it’s clear from the way others in the section tense up that they aren’t welcome guests. He makes a decision to ignore them, focusing his attention on the stage where a DJ continues to play popular hip hop songs from abroad. 

Suddenly, the lights on the stage brighten up and the music comes to a stop. The DJ begins hyping up the crowd for the upcoming performance and Taehyung is stunned at the amount of excitement people show when your name is mentioned. It multiplies ten fold when a spotlight finally highlights your place on the stage and the performance begins. He’s mesmerized. You handle yourself well. You seem to know exactly when to draw attention to yourself and when to step back and let the others shine. It’s clearly calculated, but you make it look easy. It’s hard for all eyes not to be on you, though. You’re the only woman on stage and the hot pink crop top you’ve chosen to wear makes you stick out amongst the rest of your crew dressed in all black. When you happily dance around Hoseok as a distraction to make the man stutter out his lyrics, Taehyung can’t help but laugh.  

“She’s good, right?” A voice asks, forcing Taehyung’s attention away from you. Next to him stands a large man, muscled arms crossed at his chest and covered in black tattoos. He holds an unimpressed gaze as he stares at the stage, as though he’s seen it all before. “He freaks out everytime she pulls that little stunt. He’s so whipped for her. She needs to just fuck the poor bastard already.”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung asks at the same time that Yoongi’s girlfriend shouts, “Why are you over here?”

“Calm down, Boo,” the man states with a light chuckle, eyes still on the stage. “Just here to support my girl.” The man then turns his gaze to Taehyung, “But I guess she’s your girl now, right? I see you all over her Instagram and Twitter. You must be really giving it to her good. She never posts about who she’s fucking.” Taehyung tenses at the man’s words, but does not offer up a response. The man looks back towards the stage with an amused laugh. “Didn’t think she would fuck pretty boys though. Her type is a little more… tough.”

He knows he’s being tested. It has happened more than once. As much as the guys you hung around pretended that they didn’t care about your dating life, they were actually extremely protective over you. There were endless threats whispered into his ear when he found himself in your studio during actual recording sessions. It never bothered him, though. He found it a bit heartwarming that men who would push you down to get the last piece of chicken would also fight for you so easily. But this was different. The man standing beside Taehyung eyes you like a predator stalking prey. It makes Taehyung’s skin crawl.

The performance ends with a bang, the energy in the room still electric as you make your way off the stage. The pride painted on your face as you are stopped by various people in the crowd warms Taehyung’s heart. It’s the happiest that he has ever seen you. You and the guys practically bounce back into the section, still riding the high of a successful performance. However, your happy steps slow to a crawl when you realize who is standing next to him. Of course the one person you didn’t want to see would find his way over to Taehyung. You could see the agitation in Taehyung’s face as the two exchanged words.

Sensing your apprehension, Hoseok throws his arm around your neck happily, leaning most of his body weight on you. “I can punch him if you want,” Hoseok offers lazily, as though it would be all too easy. It would, but you knew that the aftermath wouldn’t be pretty. “If your pretty boy won’t do it, I mean. It’s been a while since we’ve been in a real fight.”

You shudder slightly under his hold as you remember exactly what happened the last time you got into a fight. Hoseok was still banned from two clubs over that incident. “Calm down, Hope. I don’t wanna get kicked out of another club.”

“No fun,” he whispers in your ear. “Are you gonna go in there and save him?” You release an annoyed scoff at the idea because it’s nowhere near your job to rescue a grown man. “I wonder what they’re talking about,” Hoseok muses. “If I had to guess? Probably your weird bathroom sex kin—oof!” You cut him off with an elbow to the ribs, sighing in relief as he removes himself from you. “Go get your boyfriend before he’s not your boyfriend anymore, asshole.”

“Fine.” You make an effort to straighten your back and set your shoulders back before you start the short journey to where Taehyung is seated next to your ex. You slip your arm through Taehyung’s when you make your way there, only mildly surprised by how quickly he tangles his long fingers through your own and pulls you closer. You ex smirks at the interaction, pleased by the effect he had. “Hey,” you say much more confidently than you feel. 

“Well if it isn’t our favorite girl,” your ex barks out happily, throwing you a wink. You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Me and your friend here were just talking about you.” Taehyung quietly grunts at the word ‘friend’ beside you, but neither of you make a move to correct the person standing in front of you. You knew responding to the minor dig would only further feed his ego. “We both had a lot to say.”

“Only nice things, I hope?” You ask, your question pointed more at Taehyung. The boy offers you a reassuring smile in return causing you to let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You could only imagine the things that had been said, both true and untrue.

“I was telling your new friend here all of the things we used to do together. He couldn’t believe how wild you used to be. I’m so surprised by how much you’re holding back on him, love. That’s so unlike you.”

“Don’t call me love,” you respond almost robotically. It had become an automatic response to his continued usage of the pet name in recent months. In actuality it had been years since you were with the heavily tattooed man, but Taehyung had no way of knowing that. Past relationships were one of the few topics both of you agreed to stay away from. It would only cause more problems.

“Don’t exaggerate for my benefit,” Taehyung suddenly speaks up, eyeing the man thoughtfully.

“Hmm?” The man hums out.

“Lying is only gonna make you look like more of an asshole.”

“You wish I was lyi—” Before the man can finish his retort, you hear your name being screamed out over the thumping bass of the music. Turning your head, you see a red faced Hoseok running towards you. 

Concern is etched on his features as he rushes out, “We gotta go.” He keeps shifting from left to right like he’s ready to escape from the confines of the roped off section at the drop of a dime. “Yoongi threw a couple bottles and the managers are not happy.”

“He threw a whole bottle?” Taehyung asks in shock at the same time as you shout, “He threw more than one? Again? Fuck me! Why?” Your ex laughs loudly at the news, himself having been a part of a few bottle throwings when he was with you.

“The same reason they always get us kicked out of places,” Hoseok explains with a frustrated eye roll. “You think at this point he would stop inviting exes to shows. Let the rejects stay where they are, right?” Taehyung snorts at Hoseok’s pointed insult towards your ex. You give him a grateful smile for the diss. “Anyways, we gotta leave before they ask for their money back. This gig is paying for my new equipment.”

“Noted.” You tug Taehyung up out of his seat quickly, before turning to your ex one last time. “We gotta go. It was not nice seeing you. Die.” Then the three of you quickly make you way out of the club before things can get even more tense.

The couple is still arguing outside when you exit the venue, Yoongi’s hand firmly wrapped around your best friend’s wrist as she screams at him to let her go. Yoongi’s knuckles are bleeding and you wonder if he cut himself on the glass or punched a wall again. You know better than to ask at this moment. Trying to stop them was a recipe for a disaster. “Fuck this. I’m going home,” Hoseok says frustratedly. He turns to you, forcing a hopeful expression as he asks,“See ya tomorrow?”

“Yup. Don’t be late.” Hoseok nods at you twice and winks at Taehyung before he crosses the street and disappears into the night. 

“Does this always happen?” Taehyung asks suddenly, eyes still on the couple as Yoongi starts to yell back about who actually crossed the line. Taehyung knew that they fought, but he never understood the extent of it. Seeing it in person was a completely different ball game.

“Every single time we go to a club,” you say with a shrug, dropping the hold you have on his hand. “Perks of dating a rapper, I guess. Relationships don’t do well in this environment.” Taehyung’s eyes snap to you at the implication of his words.

“But Yoongi and his girl have been together for years right? It can’t be all bad.”

“And they fight all the time. She breaks up with him constantly. I mean, she’s been my friend for longer than she’s known him and it’s still hard for her to handle all of,” you stop, waving your hand around the wannabe rap boys dressed in baggy clothes, the club, and the drunk girls stumbling down the block before continuing, “all of this. And it only gets worse the more popular you get. No one really wants to deal with this.”

“I do,” he says, not even taking the time to consider your words. “I think I could handle it.”

You eye him carefully, cocking your head to the side as you formulate a response. The truth of your lifestyle was a bitter pill to swallow. Love was often the first casualty of Hip Hop, whether rappers liked to admit it or not. You weren’t sure if your words would ruin the good thing you had going with him. “Taehyung, you saw my ex. All that animosity between us comes from him being insanely jealous of the people around me. He couldn’t handle it.”

“I’m better than your ex.”

“Okay, but it’s not just jealousy that comes with this. Do you really think you could handle guys constantly hitting on me? Slapping my ass on stage? Calling me a whore in diss tracks? Trying to spike my drinks or give me drugs?”

Taehyung moves to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing the front of your body against his own. He sways gently with you in his arms, pressing soft kisses to your forehead as he thinks. Finally he settles on, “For you, I could handle all of that and more.” He pulls away from you slightly to stare into your eyes deeply, before leaning into to press a kiss against your lips. He pulls back once more to whisper against your lips, “I just want to be with you. I don’t care about the rest.”

“Hmm… you really are my hero.”

.

.

authors note— there will be a continuation of this couple’s story called jawbreaker released later this month. jawbreaker was originally meant to be a part of more than you can chew, but it ballooned past what i imagined and i need more time to finish. hope you enjoyed this and will read jawbreaker when it’s released.

[a-fallen-angel-with-a-shotgun]

I’d Give My Life for You, CHAPTER 1, Daddy Sam Winchester & single mother OFC

SUMMARY: For the past eight years, it had been Belle and her twin daughters hunting the Supernatural. When she meets up again with the Winchester brothers, secrets are revealed and drama enfolds. Daddy Sam Winchester ficlet

           “Remember girls- this is just a simple salt and burn,” Belle reminded her daughters for the nineteenth as she parked her battered voltswagon bus. “Melody, you’ll be tasked with the shotgun- make sure you have enough salt to blast anything if needed. Mary Anne, you’ll be in charge of making sure your older sister doesn’t shoot anyone who doesn’t deserve getting salt blasted into their eyeballs. Understand?”

The twins nodded their heads, identical serious looks on both faces. Their mother’s face, once riddled with smiles and laughter many years ago, now wore a face of emotionless stone- the corners on the sides of her mouth only twitched up once every couple of months.

           “Okay, once I’ve located the grave, I’ll torch the remains, and then we can be on our merry way,” Belle repeated the plan, opening the door to the voltswagon bus the three of them traveled around in. Sleeping arrangements were cramped, but they made it work. “Keep a lookout for the hiking ghost!”

 “Yes, mama,” Melody answered, gripping the shotgun tightly. In her saddlebag, Belle knew there to be extra salt blasts, in the event she would need to quickly reload. Mary Anne quickly found her older sister’s hand and the two girls trailed closely behind their mother.

 “Shhh!” Belle suddenly hissed, falling back and pulling her twin daughters into the shadows of the trees. She covered Melody’s and Mary Anne’s mouths with her hands. They could make out the sound of hikers arguing in soft voices- two males, from the sound of it, stomping their way through the heavy underbrush. She waited until after their voices could no longer be heard before hustling herself and her daughters to the site where the hikers would vanish.

 “Girls!” Belle hissed, jerking her head towards a barely there, well beaten path. “Follow me- and be quiet-”

 The words had barely left her mouth before an angry screech pierced the air. Belle leapt out of the way, just in time, to avoid being thrown off the path by the misty white apparition of a man.

 BANG

 Melody’s aim with the shotgun was true. A blast of salt hit the ghost and with a furious wail, he disappeared.

 “Hurry!” Belle hissed, grabbing the girl’s by the hands and herding them off the path, towards where she would’ve landed if not for her quick reflexes. “This must be it.” She began to heap fallen tree branches onto an old wooden shack, muttering under her breath. “Girls- keep a lookout!”

 The second that Belle lit the match, the ghost returned once more, howling as he rushed forward to attack her. Belle threw the match and the shack went up in flames. Belle threw her arms up to protect herself and a second later, the ghost disintegrated.

 BANG

 “HELP MAMA!”

 Belle turned to see two men holding her daughters, while Melody’s shotgun was discarded on the ground.

 “Hey!” she bellowed, charging towards them like a prizewinning bull in a fight. She took her trusty revolver from the back of her jeans and held it up, shooting a bullet off, resulting in the man holding Mary Anne to yelp in pain and let her go, clutching at his ear. “Let Melody go, or my next bullet will make love with your little friend,” snarled the mother, drawing Mary Anne behind her. She dropped her pistol down, making it clear which part of the body she was referring to.

 “Whoa, take it easy!” The man who had previously had Mary Anne held his hands up while sky opened up, allowing for the moon to shine through.

 “Wait a minute- Belle Larksong?” the man with the bleeding ear asked, his face suddenly visible in the bright light.

 “Well, well, well, as I live and breathe- if it isn’t Sam Winchester,” Belle sneered with a roll of her eyes. She stalked right up to him and he bent down, as though expecting a hug or a kiss. Even now, the difference in their height was comical to everyone presence.

 Instead what he got was a slap strong enough to send him toppling.

 “Let go of my daughter, or else I swear that I’ll make you an Enoch,” she snarled, Mary Anne pressing herself into her mother’s side as her anxiety skyrocketed. Her tense posture relaxed the slightest bit when her mother placed her hand onto her head.

 “Dean,” Sam ordered his older brother, his eyes darting from Mary Anne to Melody. “How old are you?” he directed her question at Mary Anne, who he could now see was shaking violently.

 “We turn eight on May 2nd,” Melody piped up, doing her best to squirm out of the man’s grip.

 It took Sam a moment to do the math, but when he did, he turned his soft hazel gaze to meet Belle’s steely blue eyes.

 “Do they know?” was all that he asked, standing and inching his way closer to his once girlfriend.

 Belle shook her head, willing herself not to burst into tears as she leveled the revolver at Sam as he slowly stepped closer until the barrel of the weapon into his lower stomach.

 “Why did you run?” he whispered, tears forming in his eyes as he thought of the past eight years that he’d missed out on. “You had no right to keep me in the dark- I missed out on eight years of being a father!”

           “You said you didn’t want kids, remember?” Belle hissed, barely reining her infamous temper in for the moment.

“Dean, let her go!” Sam barked at his brother without turning. He them felt a tiny hand jerking on his shirt; it was Melody, who was looking up at him with big, shiny doe eyes. As soon as he was giving her his full undivided attention, she kicked him in the shin before bolting off to hide next to her sister.

 Belle laughed out loud, kissing her eldest daughter on top of her head.

 “That was brilliant, sweetheart,” she chuckled. “Great minds think alike; I was actually about ready to do that myself.”

 “Mama?” Sam and Dean jumped at the little voice which came out of Mary Anne. “I’m tired…”

 “Where are you staying?” Dean asked, already feeling a fond spot for the twins, despite having only known of their existence for no less than five minutes.

 “We sleep in the bus,” Melody offered, taking her sister’s hand once more, successfully calming her shaking to a more manageable point.

 It took the brothers a moment to understand what she was talking about.

 “You mean you still have that heaping hunk of old crap?” Dean asked, his eyebrow practically disappearing into his hairline.

 “As how it’s my main mode of transportation and a good, cheap hotel, yes, I still have it,” Belle snapped.

 “The three of you are staying with us in our hotel room,” Dean decided. “No argument.”

 Belle opened and closed her mouth a few times before throwing her hands up in the air, an exasperated look on her face.

 “Fine,” she muttered, knowing when she was defeated. “Sam, keys.” She threw them at him and followed Dean back to the Impala, muttering darkly under her breath with her twin daughters tailing closely behind her.

    EVERINGTHINGS TAGLIST

@winchester-favorite-girl

@waywardnewcomer​

@negans-lucille-tblr​

@wonderfulworldofwinchester​

@sofreddie​

@thewnchstrs​

@super100012​

@ravengirl94​

@jadewritings​

@syusbunker

@buckyhoneyno​

@katymacsupernatural​

@the--blackdahlia​

@holylulusworld​

@whitewitchdani​

@fandomationwhore

@webcricket​

@cass-trash​

@lil-sister-winchester​

@gabrielxreader​

@forever-trapped-in-my-dreams​

@smallriderbigdreams​

  TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

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[ivyveil]

Axes and Ohs

the one where Harry’s masculinity is validated, Y/N is a needy hoe and adores herself for it, and once again Nick is left to make everything magically work out.

(Harry throwing an axe 100% is the inspiration xoxo)

A/N: This was my most popular series and I’ve decided to re-upload it! :) Check here for the masterlist.

The group chat wasn’t the same after the BBC show aired. 

Y/N was horrendously offended they hadn’t invited her (because that was her fucking day off and they had known it, couldn’t the producers cut out the footage with her anyway?) and was relentlessly switching between passive-aggressively bringing it up and directly informing her boys she was going to ignore them “for the rest of 4ever”. That wouldn’t last long, though, but Y/N felt they weren’t grasping her overall point.

Harry usually replied with “:-(“s and Nick would send memes from 2008. They weren’t very respectful, she felt. Although she was mostly teasing, there was a bit of offense that they hadn’t thought to invite her. Work had been cluttering up her mind for the majority of the week, and she often called Nick at night so they could rant to each other about everything. Cheaper than a therapist, they had both figured. So, Nick knew how stressed she had been, how it bogged down her mind and kept her up at night. How deadlines swarmed against her skull and kept her fingers itching for more work, to get more done. And Nick had promised to organize something, so they could all do something together, and Y/N’s left to find out that him and Harry hung out without her? It’s like Snapchat but worse, because the whole world saw it and was constantly tagging her in the photos.

Her boys eventually decided it would be a nice surprise to bring her to an ax-throwing range, to get her to shut up, and to show what lovely people they were. A quality compromise.

She was pleased with their invitation, even apologizing quietly for her texts, which they readily forgave (because she’s never seriously angry, and Nick more so laughed than got offended by her threats). 

(Harry had taken her seriously after the first text and had called her up immediately, asking quietly in a confused tone if she was OK. Once he found out that yeah, she was fine, she was just thriving off of being difficult as a temporary coping mechanism, he started waving her off.)

And things seemed to be going well, Harry had even made a quick Road Trip playlist for the hour ride out to the range. Nick was the driver, his elbow against the window and his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Harry was in the passenger seat, rattling off most of the conversation (fairly talkative guy sometimes, once he had enough coffee).

Y/N was in the back, her legs laying out on the seat next to her, her back slouched against the door, ignoring Nick’s reminders to “don’t be an idiot, Y/N, buckle the fuck up” and tossing trail mix every so often at Harry’s hair. Popcorn was the easiest to get caught in his locks, and his grumbling “Hey, stop tha’” as he brushed his fingers through his curls didn’t do much to quell her desire for entertainment.

It was when they were at the range that things start to feel different. The instructions made her nervous. She was never one to have graceful coordination to begin with, and the instructor was extraordinarily patient with her questions. Harry and Nick were goofing around by the edges of the facility, pretending to trip and land on their axes, feeling fairly adequate in their abilities since they had done it before.

Y/N thinks she’s pretty sane. She’s seen those pictures of the clown from IT all over the Internet – the one people are kinky-into? And yeah, no, she’s proper not into that. At all. Zero percent. Murderers are not gonna get it, even in cool sneakers.

But, there’s something disturbingly obscene about Harry with an ax. It was attractive in a completely indecent sense. How serious he became, when it was in his hands, how the light danced against his cheek, against the tip of the ax. How he lined it up so carefully, his eyebrows coming together and his tongue poking through his lips in concentration, his Adam’s apple shifting as he focused. 

It was quite different from Nick, who was tossing the blunted objects like he didn’t have a care in the world. Y/N was stupefied they hadn’t been removed from the facility yet. To his credit, Nick was trying to make Y/N less nervous, because she hadn’t even tried to throw one yet and they’d been there for half an hour. It wasn’t working, obviously.

He felt bad, he truly did, that she had felt so alone lately. Things at her work were stressful, especially since she was fighting against some sexist pricks near the top of the cooperation ladder. He had offered to bring an ax with him, next time he dropped off flowers at the front desk (because he knew that it made Y/N’s whole week), but she had flat-out said no.

Y/N didn’t want to use her rom-com knowledge to advance a particular agenda, but she rationalized that this was an activity she genuinely wanted to get better at. Build up some strength and improve her aim - quality goals. Asking a friend for help was normal, she reckoned. And Harry was taking it more seriously than Nick, so it would be logical to ask him, over her friend who was on his phone, ax held between his thighs.

“H? Could you help me a bit? Can’t get the angle to feel right,” Y/N pointed the ax somewhat at the target, loosening her wrists to keep the ax dangly. Harry quirked his eyebrows at her, his serious expression breaking a bit when he saw how poorly she was doing.

Pete, the instructor who had been hovering around Y/N’s station since the second they arrived, began to raise his hand. Presumably to offer assistance, if his wide eyes and blushing cheeks were a sign, but it just so happened that at that exact moment, Nick dropped an ax on his foot. It was the handle, mind you, but it still led to Nick’s profane slur of choice words to slit the air.

“Fuck, my foot! It’s gone! Agh, ah, shit, damn, motherfucker, ugh, uhhhhhh, wow, wowzers, help, ouchie,” Nick yelped, each onomatopoeia becoming increasingly louder. He grasped onto his ankle firmly and jumped on one foot, hobbling a bit towards the edge of the premise.

Pete had no option but to follow Nick, to talk him down to quit moving so much in order for the employee to get a proper look at the ankle. Nick kept a watchful eye on his friends a few feet over, though, and only dropped his foot when Harry had made his way next to Y/N.

(Funnily enough, Harry and Y/N hadn’t even noticed Nick, they were so wrapped up in their pretense and drama.)

So, Harry cleared his throat and nodded at Y/N, putting down his own ax. He stepped directly behind her, and perhaps it was her wistful imagination but she thought she felt the warmth radiate from his chest to her back. His arms went around hers, hugging against her shoulders and his fingertips grazing against her knuckles. Y/N was painfully aware of how close his lips were to her left ear. 

It was one of those fantasies in her mind she couldn’t turn off, it just began in her mind. It was a continuous loop of one question, of how it would feel like if he leaned in a bit more. If he gently tugged at her ear with his teeth, his arms grazing back up her arms, closer to her body, before down her sides. How would it feel for him to move down her neck, his breath hitching quietly, nipping softly at the skin. And what bothered her the most, was that all these fantasies began when she saw him holding an ax. How fucking rude.

Truthfully, his lips were far enough for it to not seem weird, but in her state of mind Y/N was bound to exaggerate things to herself. Harry had riled her up, and it only grew increasingly more hot under her jumper when she was surrounded by his cologne again.

“Alright, love, let’s see what yeh got,” he was murmuring, and Y/N almost choked on air, before managing to make it a half-cough. She was unsure of what to say, really, so she sort of cleared her throat, a bigger cough, and moved her feet slightly, her ankles bumping against Harry’s toes. His fingers drifted down to align her elbows more, straightening them out to properly inspect the angle.

“Do I just…” she gestured towards the target with her chin, feeling completely uncoordinated and at a loss of how to move. Even less so than before, because at least she had oxygen when Harry was 10 feet away.

“Shhh, give me a mo’.” and he moved her hand to line up the ax better. “Here, yeh see how the target’s lining up with the point, right there?” Y/N nodded, giving a little ‘mhm’, frankly not seeing a difference at all, before turning her head towards him.

A bit of a mistake, though, because her lips grazed his cheek before he had registered what had happened; he was more focused on helping Y/N out than where her face was. 

Harry had been feeling a bit smug, in the way that simultaneously annoyed him, because Y/N was asking for his help, yeah? She wanted him to show her how it was done, because she knew he could do it. It was intoxicating in a boyish manner, that Y/N was asking him for help.

She leaned her head back a bit, moving her lips farther away. The air didn’t feel intimate or sexy to her right then, just awkward and a rush of blood in her ears.

Harry took a step away, biting back a smile as he gestured to the target.

“Go fo’ it.”

“Well, I just…could you…could you do it, once more? Just so I could see,” she held out the ax to Harry, eyebrows coming together in frustration. She had originally asked Harry for help because the selfish part of her heart wanted her to hurt, hurt deep. But she also didn’t want to make a fool of herself. The concerns that had led her to that moment had a foundation of genuity – Y/N had no clue what was going on.

Harry smirked, which made Y/N huff a bit because yes, she accepted he was good, but that was no reason to be a lil dick-shit about it.

He obliged, moving forward and taking the ax from her hands. In the split-second between the transfer over, she almost dropped it (Harry shouldn’t have been so slow, in her defense) and Harry had to stumble forward to catch it properly. Y/N laughed a bit, mumbling apologies, when Harry shot her a faux-upset look.

Without a word, he stepped in front of her to line it up carefully, like how he was doing when Y/N was subtly checking him out. Taking a step forward, and pursing his lips a ridiculous amount, Harry threw the ax. Y/N gulped when she could practically see his back muscles against his shirt. How the fuck did he gain those, being so tiny and cute? Y/N felt, not for the first time, offended by Harry Styles’ existence.

The ax hit the bulls-eye.

Even Nick cheered, from the sidelines, from where he was forcing Pete to bring out the special gauze wrap for his foot. Might even see if he could finagle some crutches outta the establishment, hobble out and get loads of sympathy from his two besties. Y/N clapped loudly, letting out a whoop; several of the other people at the establishment yelled Harry on, as well.

“Nicely done, Styles,” she told him as he sauntered back over to her, his ego pleasantly padded with success.

“I’m a natural,” he sang, and his smile seemed to take up most of his eyes, his eyes crinkling a bit. It was Y/N’s favorite smile of his (not that she had one, no way - but she 100% did). She grinned softly back, turning her face.

“Have you done it before, yeah? Been an expert for a while, I’m guessing,” Y/N mused, half-attempting to get away from having to try it herself, half-enjoying seeing him flush with glee.

“Oh, loads. Ax-murderer, that’s me,” he solemnly agreed, before a giggle came over his lips. He was on an adrenaline rush, it seemed, a small one but enough to keep his fingers moving against his hair, pulling slightly at the roots.

“Dunno if I could kill someone, honest,” he continued, almost seriously considering the possibility, “Think if it came to it, I’d fuck somethin’ up. Trip or whatever. Can’t even get a juice open proper, dunno how I’d do with a knife.”

“No one was talking about knives Harry, just axes. My god, you deeply concern me.” Y/N shook her head, shifting her gaze down towards the ax she was supposed to throw. Just as her fingers wrapped back around the wooden base of it, however, Pete walked up to the couple.

“Um, I’m sorry, but we had to ask your friend to leave? He’s not using the equipment properly, safety hazard,” and he shifted his stare between Harry and Y/N, his hands wringing each other and his bangs sweaty against his forehead.

“Oh shit,” Harry mumbled, reaching in his back pocket to draw out his phone. Sure enough, Nick had blown up the group chat with false allegations against the ax-range, complaining that Harry and Y/N were so wrapped up in each other they had forgotten him, how he felt like he was a child again left behind on the playground, and that axes were for babies anyway and they should try flame throwers next.

“Fuck,” Y/N agreed, before beginning her round of apologies to Pete. Not that she had to apologize for Nick frequently, but in the past there had been enough wild times for Y/N to have some memorized rambles of “sorry”s and “so sorry”s. Pete seemed okay enough, his sad eyes lingering on Y/N more than what either Harry or Y/N were comfortable with, so they left rather quickly.

The two of them walked out towards the garage, where Nick supposedly was waiting with his one crutch (he had grabbed one before making a run for it) and gauzed-foot. Y/N had her jacket bundled up under one arm, and Harry had his underneath his own. The sun had come out and the afternoon was pleasantly warm - Y/N thought about lowering the windows for the ride back.

Not much could explain it. The feelings had been there for whole afternoon, and Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on how to vocalize what he wanted to say. So, shifting his jacket to rest underneath his other arm, his fingers simply reached over to Y/N’s. They intertwined with hers, gently enough for her to pull away if she wanted. Although, for the sake of the hour-long ride home, Harry hoped she wouldn’t. It was (hopefully) casual enough to pass off for friends, but he couldn’t just walk back and do nothing about how fucking adorable she had looked, confused and dazed, surrounded by axes and loud, brash cheers.

Y/N was a bit surprised, to say the least, about how they had gone from throwing axes to holding hands. His was warm, although not clammy thank goodness, and she couldn’t help but notice the dimples that poked through when she tightened her grip. And maybe her own showed, a tiny bit, but who was looking? (Harry. Harry was looking.)

“What are you doing, Haz?” and she laughed quietly, her lower chest tightening a bit and her heart’s speed picking up.

“Just don’t want yeh seeing me as some ax-throwing madman, gotta remind yeh how much of a softie I am,” he replied easily, and if Y/N weren’t so caught up in her own emotions it would have been embarrassingly clear that he had mentally rehearsed those words, crafted his excuse to feel her hand in his.

And so they walked, back to the car, hand-in-hand, each of them stewing in their own thoughts. Perhaps they would excuse their actions, their thoughts and fantasies, by the time Nick dropped off Y/N late that night and drove Harry home. They could say it was just something in the air, something about getting away from the stress of the city. But what ended up staying in both of their minds, when it neared midnight and they were trying to draft out a casual text to the other person - was the multitude of shy smiles they shot at each other, walking back to the car, giddy off of axes and Nick being an idiot.

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

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts here, and check out the rest of my works if you’d like!

[thehomierobbstark]

What does Erik do when Bae is being bratty in public?

A/N: Ya’ll seemed to really enjoy the last one, so here, have a longer one! Thank you anon for asking! [i ride for my thick chicks but i couldn’t find the right pics, sorry yall :/ ]

Whewwww

First of all

God Bless that mans patience, because you? stay Trying👏🏿 It ™👏🏿

Y’all were at an amusement park in the height of summer after graduation after you’d decided to link back up with all your college friends one last time before fall came

Everyone was boo’d up, but especially Erik, who stayed hanging on you from the moment you got there

He couldn’t help it, you just looked so cute with your black and silver braids up in space buns and the ocean blue Van’s you paired with your white summer fit

He just needed to be onn youuu in somee wayy so he could let these niggas know that ‘this mines’

Soo you sucked it up, and put up with your needy ass man hanging all over you

….. for a total of five minutes

“Yeah, so uhh…. this not bout to work,” You lean back from your scrunched up position in the corner of the booth where he’d pulled you in to be under his arm. The rest of your crew was still in line, ordering food.

He gives you a confused look, not really sure what you’re talking about.

“Wassup? You wanna go somewhere else for food? I think they got a vegan spot around the corne-”

“Nah, son, this not bout to work,” You interrupt him, gesturing between the two of you. You feel a spike of heat flash over you, and your patience starts to grow thinner.

You fuckin hated being hot

It was honestly one of the worst feelings to you, and this gigantic, sweaty nigga was determined to be all up in your space, fuckin up your qi

“Baby,” you give him a little pat on his arm, trying to keep it together. “I love all the physical affection you’re trying to show me, but you gon have to cut that shit out.” *record scratch* “It’s too hot for all that.”

During the winter, those warm, cuddled up moments were cute and all, but now that the cold was gone so was your desire for unnecessary body heat, and you needed him to get with the program

He kisses his teeth. “I’m just tryna hold my baby girl, watchu getting all buck for?” He says defensively, acting like he wasn’t currently trying to be the actual ball to your chain.

“Okay, well, hold me in your heart or somethin, shit. You makin my back sweat,” You pull at the sleeve of your shirt to trying to air it out a little, unsticking it from you.

That was another thing you fuckin hated; sweat

You could put up with it if you had to, like when you did your occasional morning run or participated in whatever foolish activities Erik managed to get you into, but it still always made your neck scrunch up at the dewy gross wetness that lingered behind on your skin

Tbh, you turned into a total 👸🏿Diva when it was hot, and you weren’t putting up with any of Erik’s lovey dovey shit in the 102º heat

“Wowwww, so you really just gon block me out like that, babe?”

“Like a fuckin linebacker,” Your comeback is quick, zero hesitation.

Your friends start heading back to where you are, so he drops it, deciding to not be a grump in front of them and thinking that maybe you just needed some space for a little while till you cooled back down

Nnnopeeee

You may have felt icky on the outside, but it didn’t mean you still didn’t want allll of the attention from your man

It’s like your body knew it wasn’t going to get any physical affection in this heat, so to make up for it, it transferred all of its resources over to your mouth

And that mouth? Smh

Poor baby, you was skrugglin

“Erik, where are you going?”

“I wanna go ride on this one babe, come with me.”

“Why is it so hotttt,”

“Ooo, DOG!”

“I want a churro.”

“Why aren’t you listening to me right now?? Didn’t you hear me say I saw a dog??”

He’s torn between being fed up with you’re annoying, aggravating ass and squishing you to death in the tightest hug because he loved it when you started acting all needy

One second you’re dragging him to all the toy stores in the park to find a Pussyfoot stuffed animal, and the next you’re mad when he tries to hold your hand to take you there because ‘it’s too sweaty”

And when you had a hot flash?

Lord help any chick that looked even somewhat in Erik’s direction, because by then you were ready to add in the knuck component to your 1-2 crazy bitch combo

After he had to drag you out of the funnel cake shop to keep you from throwing hot fudge and strawberries at “that googly eyed bitch in the back”, he decided to take you to one of the secluded tables in the back of the park to talk.

“Sit.” he orders, pointing at the table top, and you hoist yourself onto the warm concrete, scooting back a little to make room.  He slides the plate of funnel cake onto the table, arranging the shopping bags he placed behind you to give you both cover. He situates himself on the bench in between your legs, pulling the plate of food over to him to unwrap it.

He spreads your legs open and puts the dessert there when he finishes, resting his hands on the outside of your thighs.

“Right now, you gon eat and listen, cuz you been acting like a fuckin brat all damn day and I’m not having any more of your shit lil girl.”

Your face immediately scrunches up, frowning at the factual statements he was making.  You want to open your mouth and start denying your bad behavior, but the look on his face tells you that it would be very unwise.

You only open up again after watching him use his fork to pick apart the funnel cake, dipping it in chocolate sauce and holding it to your mouth to feed it to you.

While you chew, your eyes drift over his defined arm muscles being showcased by the maroon sleeveless hoodie he’s wearing, the scent of his heady cologne wafting up to your nose, distracting your senses for a moment.

You want to bury your nose in his neck and deeply inhale his scent, but you restrain yourself, not wanting to get falsely accused of trying to distract him. 

“Aight so whats the deal, baby girl? You ain’t even wanna hold my hand cuz you was being such a drama queen earlier, but now you tryna bite every bitch head off in a 5 mile radius cuz they can’t tell that we together.” He feeds you another piece, this time with a chunk of strawberry, holding it with his fingers.

You accept it, wrapping your lips around his meaty fingers and taking the treat from them, sucking generously at the pad of his thumb.

He maintains his composure, watching as you swipe your tongue over the dust of powdered sugar on your top lip.

“Why you being so difficult, mamas? You actin like you don’t know how to act right.”

You roll your eyes, eyebrows furrowing in irritation as you start to get defensive. Sure you might have been acting out a little bit, but its not like he was entirely innocent in this either.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t wear shit like that when we go out, I wouldn’t have to act so fucking ‘difficult’.” You use your fingers to put up air quotes, voice laced with attitude.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Excuse me, little girl?” Its more of an opportunity for you to reevaluate your statement than it is a question, but you steamroll over the subtle warning, still going off.

“You mad you can’t be all up on me rn so we can look like we together, but you stay showing off your arms and shit like you’re not also taken.”

He grabs the plate of half eaten funnel cake and puts it off to the side, moving forward so that his face is closer to yours.

“You better change the way you talkin to me or we gon have an even bigger problem in a second.”

You ignore his threat, scooping up the plate to munch away at your anger.

“Shut the fuck up Erik, you’re irking me right now,” You mumble around a mouthful of food, eyes focused on the pile of whipped cream and pastry.

You didn’t see it when he pulled down the black joggers he was wearing to reach in and free himself, stroking slowly while he waited for you to swallow the food in your mouth. Before you could take another bite, he snatches the plate out of your hand, tossing it somewhere before pulling you to the edge of the table, gripping you under your knees.

“Clearly you need some sense fucked back into you because its obvious you lost it all somewhere in this goddamn park.” He grabs your shorts, roughly pulling them off before sliding you off the table and into his lap. He hooks two fingers into the side of your cotton underwear and rips them off, stuffing the material into your mouth.

“I swear if you cum I’ll take you home and bend you over for another 2 hours,” His tone is vicious, and you’re already wet from the way he’s gripping your waist tight and looking at you with pure fire in his eyes. He lifts your ass up and positions himself under you, thrusting into you powerfully and filling you all the way up. You let out a sharp cry, softened by your makeshift gag, and he covers your mouth with his wide palm, leaning into your ear.

“Shut the fuck up and take it,” he growls, and he tightens his arm around your lower back and starts to pound into you, struggling to keep his own breathing even and his grunts quiet.

With the tall shopping bags on the table blocking the view, no one can see what you’re doing in the corner, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face, praying that there’s no cameras pointed in your direction. 

Somehow you both manage not to get caught, and its been 20 minutes now of his thick member slamming into you over and over again non stop. You’re wrapped around him so tight, struggling not to let go as you feel your 6th orgasm trying to fight past your mental barrier, and you push on his thighs weakly trying to lift off of him.

“I can’t I cant I cant,” you chant, your head falling back as you take in shallow breaths, a single tear falling down your face.

“You fucking better,” He snarls, and he digs his fingers into your cheeks gripping hard, spreading your ass apart further. His thrusts start slowing down, and he lifts you up, laying you down on the table with his body hovering over yours.

It’s a riskier position, and your legs bob over the shopping bag blockade he’s created as he keeps going. You scratch at his arms, whining his name to try and warn him. 

He ignores you, circling his hips into you sloppily as he starts to reach his climax, and right as he starts to release, he pushes up your cropped shirt and sinks his teeth into your breast, moaning into you as ropes of cum shoot inside you.

He collapses on top of you, both of you breathing heavy and sweating even more than you were before. 

He lazily smushes sloppy kisses into the side of your face as he comes down, nibbling on your cheek and the sensation of his beard tickles you.

“Daddy,” you whisper hoarsely, throat dry and aching from the fabric.

“Hm?” he hums, his body too tired to look up at you.

“I’m hungry again.”

[inoahthingor2]

No Place Like Home

When: November 17th

Time: 10 PM

Noah wasn’t sure why he hadn’t resented his sisters, even though he had grown up behind all four of them. There were four different ideas about who a Nakamura was before Noah stepped into place, and sometimes, it was annoying. No, he wasn’t as good at maths as Lily, and no, he wasn’t interested in joining the drama club like Hannah had, and if one more person asked him if he had inherited any of Ryleigh’s affinity for public speaking, he just might tear his hair out.

But, he was still so proud of his sisters. Yeah, he had no clue what the hell an integral was, but Lily had gotten a full-ride to go study Statistics. And Noah was good at singing and dancing, but Hannah’s performance as the lead in The Sound of Music made him tear up. And you bet your ass Noah was the loudest one screaming after Ryleigh’s valedictorian speech.

And then Kelly.

Since Noah could remember, Kelly had been dancing. Uncoordinated and clumsy when she eight as she led him in circles with Ryleigh, her pointe shoes messily laced up. Noah, who was five at the time, was delighted by the clumsy pirouettes. Lily and Hannah watched with a mixture of caution and amusement from the side lines, only stepping in when he and Ryleigh knocked heads.

Noah watched as Kelly ditched her pointe shoes in favor of a leotard and chalk, and at age nine, he watched her land her first pike, and that was the exact moment he knew he wanted to be out there with her.

His other sisters seemed to share his sentiment, but not nearly to his degree. Lily like it because she thought it made her look elegant, Hannah liked it for the drama, and Ryleigh liked it because Noah liked it. But he and Kelly actually loved all of it.

They loved the rush as they bounded across the mat, making sure not to get lost in the feeling of flipping through the air so they had a clear enough mind to land each move. Loved the burn that came with holding their balance on a beam, forcing their shaking muscles to cooperate and keep them upright. Loved the way their pulse beat in their ears as the flung themselves off of the bars, that .2 seconds in the air before they were latching back onto the metal and throwing themselves around it once more.

Perhaps their coach had taken a shine to him, but in Noah’s eyes, Kelly was who really encouraged him to practice his heart out.

“I mean, I'm good Noah, don't get me wrong. But you… you could really go somewhere with this,” she had said as she gently bandaged their hands after a particularly rigorous practice. And with Kelly gripping his hands with her own dusty ones, he knew then that he was gonna go somewhere for the both of them.

Lily, Hannah, and Ryleigh all dropped it after a couple of years, but they never stopped loving the sport. They were there when Noah dominated State Championships, sitting in the front row with their parents, waving obscenely large signs and screaming his name. Kelly was standing with the rest of their gym on the floor, beaming up at him, and in that moment, behind the joy and adrenaline, he hated being up on that podium, because his victory was nothing without them.

So when he moved on to win Nationals, he yanked Kelly up on the podium with him and grabbed her hand with his own, pressing his metal into her open palm. She stared at him for a moment, before she burst into tears, quickly followed by Lily, Hannah and Ryleigh, who jumped from the stands to rush the stage almost as soon as Noah had reached for Kelly. Yeah, pandemonium was one word for the mess that broke out after that, but if that wasn’t the Nakamura’s, Noah wasn’t sure what was.

They stuck together. If you had one of them, you had all of them.

Which was why he should’ve driven back with them after that meet. He should’ve skipped the review session with his coach. He should’ve just left with his win. Left and eaten with his family, throwing ice at Ryleigh whenever their parents weren’t looking and stealing broccoli off of Hannah’s plate when she forgot to guard her greens.

But instead, while his family was sleeping, full and happy and still buzzing with Noah’s victory, Noah was being thrown about in a crushed car that wouldn’t stop rolling, the feeling of flipping familiar and horrifying.

And then he was… broken. Broken, and all he could think about was how much he was hurting, how angry he was, how heartbroken he was. He couldn't think of anything else for those four years. But, he had forgotten that Nakamura’s shared everything.

He didn’t get to see Lily ripping his coach a new one with Hannah holding her back by her coat, begging her not to get arrested on top of everything. He didn’t see Ryleigh straightening out his hospital sheets, crying and crying but trying not to be loud in case her grief was strong enough to wake him from a medically induced coma. Nor Kelly, gripping his Nationals medal that he had given to her tightly in her hand, holding it to her forehead before throwing it in a fit of rage at the wall. The dent was still there.

No, Noah hadn’t seen any of that. Instead, he saw his future in ruins, his family disgraced, his uselessness. Every time he looked one of them in the eyes, that’s all he saw. Pity or disappointment. He couldn’t see the fondness in Lily’s eyes when he playfully tripped her with his walker on one of his better days. He didn’t see the adoration in Hannah’s when she presented him with a knot blanket for his legs, nor the relief in Ryleigh’s when he opened his eyes for the first time since the accident as she stood in the corner in order to allow the doctors to work. And he certainly hadn’t seen the pride Kelly felt when Noah took his first wobbly steps by himself before he collapsed into her arms.

He couldn’t.

Which was why when his phone buzzed, he didn’t answer it. He watched Kelly’s face flash on screen until it dimmed and the vibrating faded. There was the missed call notification, then a voicemail notification, and finally a text message. He clicked on the text, already knowing he was going to delete the voicemail. He couldn't handle her voice yet.

Kelpy: Answer one of us, you asshole. We miss you

Noah shut his eyes and sighed through his nose, before finally taking a look at all of the other texts from his various sisters that he had muted.

From Lily;

Lil: how’s college, college boy? Meet any hotties yet?

Lil: let me know if u need help with ur math

Lil: r u seriously ghosting your whole family u dork?

Lil: R u coming home for thxgiving?

Lil: I’ll give u 5 bucks and some graduate school gossip if u do

Lil: hey, give mom a call soon, will ya? You know how she worries

From Hannah;

Bananah: hey, let me know how ur first day was when u get a chance!

Bananah: are your midterms soon? Call me if you get too stressed!

Bananah: stay warm, okay? I know it’s warmer there, but still. If you tell me ur dorm room number, I’ll send you a scarf!

Bananah: audio.mp3

Bananah: “this is my audition for a Christmas musical! Let me know how it is!”

From Ryleigh:

Rye: I can’t believe you went to college so far away fucker. I was looking forward to dipping ur hand in cold water when ur passed out drunk

Rye: bro, wtf r u gonna be for Halloween? If u don’t send me a pic, you’re disowned

Rye: image.png

Rye: I went as Columbia from rocky horror

Rye: woooow silent treatment?

Rye: if u don’t come home for thanksgiving, I’m gonna convince Hannah to help me kick ur ass

From Kelly:

Kelpy: dominate this school year noah! We’re all rooting for you!

Kelpy: image.png

Kelpy: I got a dog. Help me name him?

Kelpy: I named him pudge.

Kelpy: hey, call me? We should catch up! I wanna know how school is!

Kelpy: Hey noah, we’re all kinda worried about you. We’re trying to give you space, but we’d really like to hear if you’re okay

Kelpy: mom and dad almost drove up to surprise you, but I convinced them not to. Just answer us noah. We miss you

And then the text from today

Noah pressed his phone to his forehead, his brows furrowed. He should go back. He knew he should. He missed his family, as much as he tried not to think about it. But it was going to be so hard going back to a place where everyone knew how much better he used to be. They were gonna ask him what he was doing, and he couldn’t just not talk about the Vixens. But he wasn’t ready to share. He just… couldn’t. He wanted to stay in this space where he was just Noah, the energetic Vixen. He was scared if he looked away, the illusion would break.

But they deserved to hear him say he wasn't coming home.

So naturally, he texted it.

N: srry for the radio silence Kelly! I’ve been sups busy! I can’t make it back for Thanksgiving; I’ve got something I need to do here. Give everyone my best!

Kelly answered almost immediately, but he was already tossing his phone in his gym bag and getting ready to head to the Court. The sooner he improved, the sooner he could feel comfortable going home.

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Arranged Epilogue

Description: Y/N and Yoongi have been through the ringer and they finally have a moment to breathe. They are making up for lost time as they explore an idyllic island together. Who wants to follow them on their honeymoon?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Word Count: 4,744

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Chaebol!Au, Company!Au, Arranged Marriage!Au

Warnings: Coarse language, although not frequently

A/N: Ah hello my loves! Here is the epilogue. I’m excited to give you guys some straight fluff!! Like dang, you have suffered enough!! This is a bit shorter than a normal chapter, mostly because there’s no drama haha. So I hope you like it. Just as a little thank you for enjoying the story, and as a send-off for Arranged! I know it’s weird to say goodbye, but we can always explore these characters more through drabbles! Just let me know what you want and I’ll get on it. As always, please send me anything you want! I’ll be without wifi at the coast, so my responses might be a little late since I’ll be on mobile, but please don’t let that stop you from sending me an ask! I truly love talking to you guys. And of course, feel free to message me about any concerns or critique you have. 

ALSO VERY IMPORTANT!

Our next fic will be titled Dissonance and, as you may or may not know, it will star the one and only Kim Taehyung - based on your poll votes! So, keep an eye out on Wednesday for an official introduction and a lil baby spoiler ;). I’m excited to get started!!

–Mercury

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen (END), Epilogue

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“I can’t believe he took me to Tahiti.”

“I can’t believe you’re on the phone with my while you’re in Tahiti.”

I sighed and glared into the cerulean waters outside our floating cabin. I could see a few stray fish playing tag in the ocean’s depth just beyond where I sat, shaded by the thatched roof. I rested on a chaise lounge, phone in hand, sun warming my thighs. 

“He’s sleeping,” I insisted.

Hana gave a rapturous yawn. “Yeah, that’s what I’d like to be doing too.”

“Wait,” I said, then covered my lips with my fingers. “What time is it?”

“Six in the stupid morning,” Hana mumbled.

I blinked a few times. It was only eleven here. I’d completely forgotten the time difference. “Shit! I’m sorry. I’ll go now.”

She laughed. “Go wake up your husband.”

I blushed. “Sleep,” I said before hanging up and wringing my hands. I glanced around me, back towards the island, and saw the lush greenery sway slightly in the ocean breeze. I’d never seen so much beauty in one place, the island’s sharp peaks reaching into the bright blue sky unobstructed by even a single cloud.

Our porch was comfortable and through the gaps in the wood floor I could see bits of ocean water as it waved. I wiggled my toes and smiled. Despite the guilt over being here at all, I couldn’t deny the place’s breezy charm. It was like a living daydream. I took a deep breath of fresh sea air, letting the warmth fill my nostrils, and stood to my feet, padding softly back into the hut. Yoongi slept peacefully on the massive white bed, his arms and legs spread as he lay on his stomach and let out little snores. I smiled fondly at him. 

Quietly, I opened the bamboo blinds, letting more sunlight seep into the room. I heard him groan and smirked. I hated waking him up. That was something I’d learned quickly once we started sleeping in the same bed. Not only was he a total grump most mornings, he was as immovable as a damn rock. Trying to find creative ways to coax him out of bed in the morning had become something of a ritual.

I knew the window wouldn’t be enough. The cabin was already flooded with morning light by nature of its design. I pursed my lips and thought a moment. Then, with a smile, I hopped back into the bed, my pajama shorts bunching as I lay on top of the sleeping man, the whole weight of my body pressed onto his back.

He groaned. “Y/N,” he mumbled, the familiar rasp in his voice causing butterflies to flutter in my stomach.

I chuckled. “Time to get up, lazy boy.”

“They called me Motionless Min in high school you know,” he said, lips pressed into his pillow.

“Yes, I know. You’ve told me. Now rise, my undead servant. Rise,” I said, shacking his shoulders.

He shook his head. “Ten more minutes.”

“That excuse works at home. Not in Tahiti.”

He turned his head so he could look at me through one dark eye, the other half of his face squished onto the pillow. His lips spread in a smirk. “Wait, we’re in Tahiti?”

I smacked his exposed shoulder and sat upright, straddling his back. “Min Yoongi!” I shouted.

He twisted around so he was laying on his back, resting his hands on my thighs with a bright smile. “Min Y/N,” he said lowly.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not the face of a man ready to go on a jungle hike.”

He laughed. “You’re right.”

I hit his chest lightly. “We’ve been here a day and all we’ve done is sleep,” I complained, my lips forming a pout. It was strange what married life had done to me…

“Hey,” he said softly, hands rubbing my skin. “We’ve done more than sleep.”

“Ew!” I shouted, hopping off of him and stumbling back onto the floor, leaving my lecherous husband laughing in the bed by himself. “You have ten minutes to get ready or I’m throwing you into the ocean!”

Although I did not throw him into the ocean, Yoongi did take longer than ten minutes, despite me breathing down his neck as he lazily brushed his teeth, lazily put on his clothes, lazily styled his hair (which I mentioned on more than one occasion was a waste of time because of the humidity). We ended up leaving the cabin at 11:30 AM, armed with backpacks I packed and a map which I demanded to keep in my possession. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I said as he whined about it during our walk to the trailhead from the car we’d rented. “It’s that I trust me more.”

He stuck out his tongue for a second before gently taking hold of my hand and intertwining our fingers with a cheeky grin as we stepped over some exposed roots. “You know what’s better than a long hike in the jungle?” he asked.

I leaned away from him slightly, furrowing my brow. “Don’t say anything that will make me have to really push you into the ocean…,” I warned.

He laughed and planted a soft kiss against my temple. “Resting on the beach. Maybe taking a nap,” he said.

I clenched my jaw and shut my eyes as I struggled to retain my composure. Perhaps because he was wealthy all his life, these amazing places didn’t hold much interest for him anymore. Perhaps he was used to majesty in the world. But to me, this experience was invaluable.

“I’m not gonna waste my time in a place this beautiful by sleeping,” I said, glancing at him. “We have to see it, Yoongi! Do you know how many people would kill to be here?”

He pursed his lips. “We aren’t keeping them from coming here themselves.”

“Most people who want to can’t afford it,” I said softly as we walked along the sand, following the directions I’d found online to the trailhead.

He was quiet as he thought of this for a moment. He took a deep breath as we reached the edge of the forest, just beside a sign marking the beginning of the hike, and gave me a smile. “I’m sorry,” he said.

I raised my brows. “Hm? What for?” I asked.

“Sometimes I forget that I’m fortunate. I’m glad you’re here to remind me,” he said.

I laughed and shook my head. “If nagging is all it takes to get you to appreciate me, I’ll nag more often,” I joked, leaning up towards him and offering a chaste kiss. “We don’t have to do this today if you really don’t want to, you know,” I conceded with a smile. “We can rest on the beach and play with the fish.”

He shook his head, thumb rubbing circles into my hand. “I want to. You’re right. When are we gonna get this chance again?”

I smiled as I tilted my head to the side, examining him from below as the sunlight made a gold halo around his hair. “You’re handsome when you listen to what I say,” I said with a giggle.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but after a moment cracked a smile and swayed our clasped hands. “I’m always handsome,” he said.

“Indisputable,” I teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Quit quoting me and let’s get hiking.”

The canopy of trees seemed to bend and curve around us as we tramped through the undergrowth. We were met at every turn with beauty unparalleled: spectacular views of the water, sweeping expanses of emerald rainforest, steep cliffside stopping points leading impossibly down to the beach. Yoongi complained very little, much to my surprise, and even though both of us were sweating and tired our spirits were remarkably high. The hike wasn’t long or arduous, but his attitude seemed to have changed entirely over the course of our trek. As we dredged ever closer to the elusive promised land of a beautiful waterfall, Yoongi came up behind me and, slowing our speed, wrapped his arms around my torso. The action was awkward as I was still wearing my backpack, and his hands barely made it around to touch my tank top. 

I turned to look at him as we lobbed side to side together, our steps slow and synchronized. “What is it?”

“I’m just…kind of amazed,” he said.

I laughed. “Even the great Min Yoongi can feel overwhelmed by nature sometimes,” I teased.

He chuckled. “Yes. I am a human after all.”

“I’m amazed too,” I said as I glanced around the path, a couple squeezing past us as they walked back the way we came. “It’s really pretty here.”

“And it’s about to get prettier,” he said, pointing ahead.

I followed his pale finger and saw in the distance a hint of waterfall. I was quick to untangle our limbs and jog ahead towards it, Yoongi in tow and laughing behind me as he struggled to keep up. We both slowed to a stop on the cement viewing platform, my mouth agape as I took in the splendor of it. Water cascaded from hundreds of feat overhead, pooling in a plume of mist below us. I laughed in disbelief and turned to Yoongi. His eyes were wide, his smile wider, and his hair was standing at awkward angles, curling slightly from the humidity. I chuckled and took a moment to softly brush a stray hair from his dewy forehead. 

“Yoongi,” I said quietly, grinning up at him.

He wrapped his arms around me and smiled with a tenderness that disarmed me. “Thank you,” he said.

I blushed and shook my head, watching the waterfall reflected in the brown of his eyes. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You got me out here,” he said, fingers rubbing my hips slightly. “That was no easy task.”

I pursed my lips, tilting my head side to side, and shrugged. “A fair point.”

He laughed and gave my forehead a light flick. “I’m trying to be appreciative.” I smiled, settling my arms around his neck and lacing my fingers. “Consider me thoroughly appreciated,” I said, smiling.

“Excuse me?”

Both Yoongi and I turned to see a woman, maybe in her fifties, smiling at us grandly and pointing at the waterfall. “Would you mind taking our photo?” she asked, pointing to a woman around her age, giving us a bashful look. 

I smiled and removed my hands from Yoongi’s shoulders. “Of course,” I said, taking the woman’s expensive digital camera from her outstretched fingertips and lining up the shot as she took a spot against the railing beside the other woman. 

The two wrapped their arms around each other and met eyes and, in an instant, I felt love. It was as if I was glimpsing something very pure and primal. I wondered in a brief haze of selfishness if other people saw that when Yoongi and I looked at each other. I remembered what Jungkook had said about the way I looked at Yoongi all that time ago. I shook my head a little to gather my thoughts and smiled as the first woman pressed a kiss to the second woman’s cheek. 

“One! Two! Three!” I called, holding my fingers out as I counted before snapping the photo.

The first woman came trotting back and stood beside me as I pulled up the photo. The other woman approached as well, both of them staring over each of my shoulders as we reviewed the picture together. 

“Oh, Rainy, it’s so pretty!” said the first woman with a light smack to my arm.

I chuckled as the other woman, Rainy, gave me a soft smile. “Thank you,” she said. “Cassandra, shouldn’t we let the happy couple have a photo too?” proposed Rainy.

The first woman, apparently Cassandra, gasped and nodded. “Oh of course! How rude of me. Let me take a picture of you two,” she insisted with a grin.

I glanced over my shoulder at Yoongi and he laughed, shrugging. “Um…sure. Here, let me grab my phone,” I said, pulling my backpack around to my side and digging through it I found the device. “Thank you,” I said as I handed it to Cassandra who shook her head at me, dismissing my gratitude with a wave of her hand.

I waited for Yoongi to catch up to me before walking by his side to the edge of the slab, leaning back against the railing. “What kind of pose do you want to do?” I asked.

He met my eyes with a smile and squinted his eyes as he thought. “V sign?”

“Hm,” I said, my brow furrowing. “Maybe a dumb face? Like this?” I asked, pulling my head backwards slightly to produce layers of extra chins.

Yoongi, upon seeing me that way, let out a booming laugh that flitted around the jungle. I laughed with him, our eyes connected as we tried to fight the giggles. “I like that,” he said, still laughing. “But how about just a nice, simple pose?” he said as he snaked an arm around my waist.

I smiled and nodded. “Alright,” I said, then turned to the women who were smiling fondly our way, staring into the phone together. “We’re ready!” I called, angling my body towards Yoongi’s and wrapping an arm around his waist and placing my free hand on his chest. 

“Ready! One!” called Cassandra, flashing her first finger. “Two!” she shouted, and I looked up at Yoongi with a wink. He smiled brighter in response. “Three!” 

We reunited with the couple and, before we could review the photos, they were packing their things, ready to leave. Before they made their departure,

Cassandra approached and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “I took a few so you can choose from them,” she said with a smile.

I nodded. “Thank you!” I called as she and Rainy walked back towards the trail. Then, suddenly alone again, I turned to Yoongi. “Wanna look at them?”

He smirked and came around behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder as I opened my photos. The first one to appear was the most recent one, featuring Yoongi and I posing against the lush, vibrant greenery and the rapidly flowing waterfall. I swiped to the right to see the earlier photos, Yoongi’s hands now wrapped around my torso. The next photo was the two of us adjusting our position, me looking at the ground and Yoongi staring handsomely off into the distance. The last one gave me pause and caused my heart to skip. It was the same frame, the same waterfall, the same dripping foliage and white water, but this time we were laughing, staring at each other, not even touching as we shared a private moment. My eyes were glittering, and Yoongi’s smile was so big it shone out against the mossy backdrop. And, in our eyes, I could see it. I could feel it.

It was love.

I flushed. “Yoongi,” I said.

He kissed my cheek from behind and hummed in response. “Yes?”

“I’m happy.”

He laughed and swayed us a little. “Me too,” he said. “Now let’s get going so we can get some food.”

The sun had trailed to the edge of the horizon, settled neatly where the sky and sea touch. Streaks of lilac, navy, and vibrant red rippled out across the water, reflected from the dome of sky above. Yoongi and I sat quietly, each of us resting on the sandy beach on a blanket. We’d spent the afternoon eating and basking in the sunlight. I really began to understand the Motionless Min nickname, as there were times when I had to check his breathing to make sure he was still alive. At one point, I’d asked Yoongi why he hadn’t moved for thirty minutes, just laying on his back in the sand, to which he replied that he was ‘photosynthesizing.’ 

I sat hugging my knees with a soft smile as the waves came and went, gently lapping at the sand, leaving damp imprints in their place as they receded. The air was warm, and somewhere in the distance I could smell a barbecue. My stomach constricted and offered a low moan. I was grateful to be by the sea, hoping Yoongi may mistake it for a whale’s call and avoid his teasing.

I heard him shuffle at my side, moving around this way and that. Had it finally happened? Had he fallen asleep? Before I could check, something cool was touching my bare arm and I jumped slightly, turning to look at Yoongi with wide eyes. He was sitting upright with an equally surprised expression, in his hand a cling-wrapped roll of kimbap. I furrowed my brow at the thing, then looked back at him.

“Kimbap?” I asked with a smile, musing as he fussed with his fluffy hair.

He shrugged. “I made it last night after you went to sleep. I thought I’d be able to pack my own bag for the hike and surprise you at the waterfall, but you packed for me,” he said, his lips pouted and eyes squinty with drowsiness.

I took the kimbap and unwrapped it, unceremoniously taking a bite to sate my appetite. As I chewed, I held the roll out to Yoongi and he, in turn, took a bite straight from my hand. I laughed. “I’m sorry,” I said.

He met my eyes and shook his head. “Why?”

“For pushing you today and making you feel bad,” I said as I took another bite of kimbap. He’d prepared this the night before, meaning he’d always intended to go on the hike. I pursed my lips. “I think I feel…a little guilty being here.”

He took his bite and chewed quietly. “Mm,” he hummed.

“Some old insecurities are coming up,” I said, meeting his sleepy eyes, his sun-flushed cheeks, his messy hair. “Sometimes I feel like we don’t really understand each other.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You do?”

I nodded slowly. “Just because…I don’t know, the way we grew up, the worlds we were a part of…they’re just really different.”

“Funny,” he said with a soft smile as I chewed. “That’s what I like most about our relationship.”

“Hm?” I asked, surprised.

He shrugged. “We’re different. We have different perspectives,” he said. “That means we can both learn a lot from each other.”

My cheeks warmed. “I guess…I didn’t really think of it that way before.”

“Well, being in an echo-chamber doesn’t really help you grow does it? It’s good to get new perspectives. Like today with you. The hike was a lot more fun than I thought it would be,” he said.

I chuckled. “Well, to be fair just sitting on the beach with you has been really nice too.”

“See?” he said, scooting closer so our thighs touched and taking a hearty bite of kimbap. “We both learned something.”

I nodded, resting my head against his warm shoulder. He chuckled beside me as the kimbap slouched in my hand. “Why do I feel like we’re some campy PBS show or something?” I asked.

“See kids?” he said with a nudge. “Even two people who seem really different can be friends!”

I groaned. “Stop it. You’re ruining Tahiti.”

He laughed boisterously and nodded, ruffling my hair with his cheek. “Hand me the kimbap,” he said, taking the food from my hand and chomping down.

The sky was black and full of uncountable stars, shimmering in the night. The water which I heard splashing the support beams of our cabin was no more than a navy blue mass outside, the peaks of waves sometimes catching the moonlight just right and glittering like a mirror of the stars above. Inside, I could vaguely hear Yoongi humming in the shower. Our hut was filled with warm yellow light, filtering out onto the deck on which I sat, staring once again at my phone. So much had happened that day, so much that I wanted to tell Hana and the others about.

Hana had insisted that we create a group chat for her, Namjoon, Jungkook, and me so we could stay in touch while we all went our own ways. Jungkook in Busan, me in Tahiti, Hana at work, and Namjoon at the company: I had to admit it was a good idea. Although the group chat had been significantly more lively than I’d anticipated, and it was rare that my phone was quiet these days. Tonight, however, I was really grateful for it. I still felt guilty for the privilege of being in such a lavish place, but sharing it with people who couldn’t be here too made me feel a little better. I reached out to the chat in the middle of a conversation about about the best food stall in Hongdae.

Meme Squad: Jungkook: Alright, listen. You can think the tteokbokki place is better, but know that your opinion is inferior and I hate you. Hana: And the hotteok place is better? With their oily-ass sweet bread? You’re wild. Namjoon: Me, an intellectual: the odeng stall is the best. Jungkook: YOU’RE CRIMINALLY INSANE! Hana: YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN THE CITY! Y/N: Wow, hello. Hana: Y/N!! Y/N: Hana!! Hana: How’s Tahiti? Sorry I was crabby this morning lol. Y/N: No I woke you up at the ass-crack of dawn, that’s on me. Y/N: And Tahiti is great! I have a photo to send if you guys want it. Jungkook: I also have a photo! I met up with my friend from Busan today and we went to the beach. Y/N: Oh! What friend? Jungkook: His name is Jimin. We used to play together. Hana: Haha…lame… Namjoon: Jungkook, that sounds fun. Namjoon: And Y/N, I’ve heard Tahiti sunsets are the best! Y/N: They are. We ate kimbap on the beach while watching the sunset. Hana: How…romantic? Y/N: It was nicer than it sounds. Jungkook: Hana why must you hurt me this way? Hana: Idk. For some reason I just wanna bully you. Jungkook: (;¬_¬) Namjoon: Anyway, let’s see Y/N’s photo first, yeah? Y/N: Thank God for Namjoon keeping this group chat on track… Namjoon: Someone has to.

I exited the chat for a moment to flick through my photos. I had pictures of the rainforest from our hike, pictures of Yoongi resting with a towel on his head on the beach, pictures of the sunset. But one photo stood out to me. Yoongi and I, standing against the railing of the concrete viewing slab, the waterfall raging behind us, both of us smiling as we looked at each other. Just seeing the photo caused a swell of warmth to flood through my body. 

Y/N: [Image Attached] Hana: Oh my God! THAT’S SO PRETTY WTF!! Y/N: Haha yeah it was really beautiful. Namjoon: That’s a great photo. Y/N: Thank you :’) Jungkook: You guys look really happy. Y/N: We are. Thanks, Kook. Jungkook: ⊂( ・ ̫・)⊃ Hana: Oh my GOD can you stop with those? Y/N: I think they’re kinda cute… Jungkook: Now for my photo. Hana, feel free to not look if you’re gonna drag me. Hana: All the more reason to look… Jungkook: [Image Attached] Jungkook: The guy with the orange hair is Jimin and we went to the beach we used to go to when we were kids. It was really fun! Namjoon: Aw! That looks nice! Y/N: Kook, that’s a great photo. Jungkook: Yeah, I’m thinking about putting it into a portfolio. Y/N: Do it! Jungkook: (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑ Hana: For the love of God, I was about to compliment your picture but you forced my hand… Hana: STOP SENDING THOSE DUMB ASS EMOTICONS I AM REALLY ABOUT TO BUST THIS MUST STOP I WILL KICK YOU FROM THE GC I REALLY WILL YOU MANCHILD LAST WARNING!! Hana: I feel better now. Jungkook: (´;︵;`) Hana: BJKJDNNMRGOIGNK

I chuckled, covering my lips with my hand so as not to disturb any of the other huts nearby and, as I did, I could hear the water shut off inside and quickly stood to my feet, locking my phone and entering the warm cabin as Yoongi emerged from the bathroom with a towel on his head obscuring his face, dressed in his cozy flannel pajamas. He fluffed his hair with the towel, coaxing it to dry, before pulling it off and giving me a bright smile. I walked near him, placing my phone on the small table by our window and crossed my arms in front of him, narrowing my eyes.

“What’s that look about?” he asked with a laugh.

I tilted my head to the side, still staring up at him. “Hm…”

“What?” he whined, tossing his towel in the hamper.

“I’ve decided,” I said.

“Decided what?” he asked, laughing.

I smiled. “Island life suits you. We can’t leave.”

His eyes went wide and then he tossed his head back with laughter. “God, you had me worried.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was glowing, eyes twinkling, smile bright. “Hey,” I said, raising a hand to his cheek and tracing my finger along his skin. “You got some color!”

“Don’t say that like you’re so surprised,” he mumbled, still smiling.

“I am surprised!” I teased with a laugh. “Here I thought I’d married a ghost, you were so pale.”

“Oh?” he asked, smirking with a sudden glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re poking fun at me now? Your loving husband?” he asked, quickly grabbing me by the waist and tossing half of my body over his shoulder. 

I shouted. “Put me down!” I screamed through laughter.

“No! You said you were gonna throw me into the ocean, now I’m gonna throw you in!” he yelled in response.

But before he could get to the back deck he changed course and tossed me lightly onto the bed with a creak. I laughed as my body bounced a few times before he came tumbling down on top of me. Part of me wondered if he was initiating something, but the second his form collided with mine I knew he was only playing. Because as he hovered over me, he suddenly dropped himself entirely, letting his full weight rest on top of me. He giggled loudly, a high-pitched squeal, as I writhed under him, struggling to free myself.

“Yoongi!” I shouted.

He laughed and spread his arms and legs wide like a starfish. “Take it back!”

“Take what back?” 

“Take back what you said about me being a ghost!”

“No!” I shouted, laughing.

He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and glared down at me. “Take it back,” he said, a warning in his tone.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing and fought a smile. “Nuh-uh.”

“Y/N,” he said, giving me a stern look.

I shook my head. “Yoongi,” I said, imitating his tone.

He tried to hold it in, but his lips spread in a smile and he sighed, letting his head dip and his damp hairs tickled my nose. “You’re such a brat. Why do I hang out with you?” 

“I really don’t know either,” I said, laughing. 

He smiled, meeting my eyes and leaning down towards me. I shut my eyes as our lips met and, slowly, my hands smoother over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck. He lowered himself slightly so we could be closer and I bent my arms at the elbows, holding him in place. His lips were hot against mine, and his touches left fiery trails behind them as they trailed my skin, finding the bottom of my tank top and playing with the hem of my shorts. 

And then he leaned back, eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at me. “I love you, you know,” he said, voice low and gravelly.

I smiled and nodded. “I love you too.”

He smiled. “Still not gonna take it back?”

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss me once more, stretching a hand over my head past my ear to flick off the bedside lamp, plunging our cabin into warm darkness, the sound of waves ushering us into the night.

[camsthisky]

For @sheillagh-tries-life. Thank you so much for donating! Enjoy!

Also, thanks to @preciousthingsareprecious and @timdrakeothy for looking this over! You guys are awesome :)

Could you do a YJ verse (like during S1/early time skip ish) Dick being a lil ridiculous/v dramatic with Bruce in front of the team?

“I’m bored,” Wally says to the static on the TV more than the other occupants of the room, and he exhales loudly as he flops back onto the couch so that everyone knows how completely and utterly serious he’s being.

Dick snorts and leans forward in his seat. And Wally’s says Dick’s the dramatic one. Which—well. He’s not wrong. Dick grew up a performer. Drama is what he does. But that doesn’t mean that Wally isn’t a drama queen, either. Maybe Dick’s rubbing off on him.

“Hi bored,” Artemis says, eyes trained on the textbook in front of her. “I don’t give a shit.”

Dick chokes, and so does Wally, except Dick is managing to let out somewhat strangled laughter while Wally is just straight up spluttering, looking almost affronted by the fact that Artemis had just done that. Kaldur sighs exasperatedly, and Conner and M’gann both share confused looks.

“What the hell,” Wally hisses when he manages to regain some of his composure. “What the hell.”

Dick’s grin is big and teasing. “You totally set yourself up for that.”

“I’m actually surprised you didn’t see it coming,” Artemis says, flipping a page of her book before scribbling something down in a notebook next to it. She doesn’t even crack a smile, and she sounds completely unbothered, so much so that it sends Wally into speechlessness again, and Dick starts cracking up all over again.

He hears M’gann whisper to Kaldur, “I don’t think I understand,” and Conner say, “I don’t think I even want to,” but before Dick can properly help Kaldur explain it, Wally finds his voice.

“I hate all of you,” he grumbles, sinking back into the couch. He turns his gaze to Artemis, who still isn’t even sparing him a glance. “Especially you.”

“Find someone who cares,” Artemis tells him.

Wally’s eyes find Dick’s, accusing, as if to say, this is all your fault, and Dick snorts again. “She verbally kicked your butt fair and square, KF.”

“I’ll kick your butt fair and square,” Wally mutters. He doesn’t sound like he means it, but Dick brightens, a smirk stretching across his face.

“Challenge accepted,” he says, and the room freezes. Even Artemis looks up from her homework. Wally’s gone pale, Kaldur still looks exasperated, and M’gann and Conner both look interested. Dick makes sure to keep his gaze on Wally. “What? You backing out? I’ll even fight without my belt. Just plain old sparring. You and me.”

“No,” Wally says.”

“You said you were bored.”

“No,” Wally tells him, the word repeated more forcefully this time. “No way in hell. The last time I fought you, I landed flat on my ass.”

“Language,” a voice says, and Dick turns to see Superman stride into the room, Batman and Black Canary just a step behind him. They look—if Dick had to pick a word—amused. Despite his reprimand, Clark’s got a smile on his face, one reflected by Black Canary. Batman’s not smiling, but he doesn’t have his angry face on, so Dick thinks that’s as happy as he can probably get with the cowl covering his face.

Wally’s up and sprinting towards their mentors before Dick can even blink, talking a mile a minute. “What’re you guys doing here? Do we have a mission? Training? I thought that it was Batman who gave out missions, not Superman, so why’s he here? Not that we don’t want you here, Superman, but it’s just a surprise to see you—”

Dick hops out of his seat to elbow Wally, effectively cutting him off. Wally sends him a short glare, but Dick tilts his head towards the superheroes in front of them.

Superman’s outright grinning now, and Black Canary’s biting her lip to stop herself from smiling, and—dare he say it—that almost looks like a smile on Batman’s face.

“We heard what you said,” Black Canary says, eyes alight with amusement as she glances between Dick and Wally. “About sparring.”

Wally groans, and Dick grins, hopping on his toes. “Does that mean what I think it means?” he asks.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Batman says, voice gruff but not unkind.

“What’s not a bad idea?” Artemis says, sounding wary as she, too, stands up.

“Sparring with Robin,” Batman clarifies, this time just slightly more annoyed. He pauses a moment, looking over all of them before he continues, “Robin has the potential means to take down each member of the League down, provided that he took them on separately. Do any of you?”

Wally grimaces. “Every time I spar with him, I end up on my butt. Every. Time.”

“That’s when you figure out a way to take him down,” Black Canary reminds Wally. “That’s the point of training, isn’t it?”

“To get our asses kicked?” Artemis snorts.

“To better your chances against your opponent,” Superman corrected. “And eventually learn how to beat them.”

“He trains with you,” Conner says, and Dick whirls around to look at him, but his eyes are trained on Batman. There’s this intensity that Dick isn’t sure he understands. “Can he beat you?”

There’s silence, and even Dick’s frozen where he’s stood, mouth opening and closing as he looks between Conner and Batman. The rest of the team, too, has all but stopped, eyes on Batman as they wait for his answer. And some of them are even looking at Dick.

Batman doesn’t say anything for a long while, but when he does, it’s to Dick. “Can you?” he asks, and Dick’s face splits into another grin, because that’s—Bruce is challenging him. No one other than Dick can hear it—well, maybe Clark since they’re best friends, or whatever Bruce likes to call it—but it’s definitely there.

And Dick? He snatches up the challenge immediately. “Heck yes! Prepare to get your ass kicked!”

Dick is going to lose. Horribly. And he knows it. Doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try his best.

Clark looks exasperated. “Seriously, Robin? Language.”

Dick sticks his tongue out and cackles.

Superman throws his hands up in the air and turns to Bruce. “Language?”

“He’s fourteen,” is Batman’s reply.

“I could tell A—”

“No!” both Dick and Batman say at the same time. Dick practically yells it, but Bruce is that carefully controlled growl of his. Clark just raises an eyebrow, but Dick just moves on. Better that way.

He turns to Bruce, bouncing on his heels. “The sparring ring?”

Batman grunts, and then he’s sweeping out of the common area, everyone’s eyes trailing after him.

Dick turns to Wally and says, face carefully neutral. “I just want you to know, if I don’t make it out of this alive, you’re not allowed to touch my comic books. Or my video games. Or anything else of mine.”

Wally blows out a big breath, eyes wide. “Dude!”

Dick cackles and then he’s making his way towards the sparring ring, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, slow pokes!”

At first, Dick doesn’t move. He stays where he is, crouched on the very edge of the ring, opposite of Batman. Batman’s still, too, and neither of them pay much attention to the eyes on them on the outside of the ring. They’re too busy looking over each other, sizing the other up before they attack.

Despite this being far from the first time Dick’s ever faced Bruce, a trill of excitement travels down his spine. He thinks that this might be the first time that Robin has ever sparred with Batman (the thing in the Watchtower doesn’t count. Bruce hadn’t been in control of himself, and in the end, he’d needed Conner’s help).

All too suddenly, Batman relaxes, and then he’s leaping forwards, reaching for his belt underneath the cape. Dick knows what’s coming, but he narrows his eyes just in case something unexpected happens— like that. He cartwheels out of the way as Bruce feints with a thrown batarang and sweeps a leg out to take out Dick’s legs. Dick cartwheels a few more times before he ducks and rolls forward, springing forward to grab Bruce’s hand and maybe pull off that new move he’s been working on, but Bruce doesn’t give him a chance. Bruce grabs the arm and twists—but Dick’s already breaking the hold.

They go on like that, Dick more on the defensive than the offensive because of the way he’d been trained. He brings out every bit of acrobatic skill he has and then some, but Bruce always seems to be one step ahead of him. Finally, after about another ten or fifteen minutes, until Bruce finally pins Dick to the ground, holding Dick’s arms behind his back in a way that prevents Dick from slipping his grip.

Neither of them are heaving for breath, but the fight had still been somewhat of a workout. It’d been hard to think more than two or three moves ahead while physically fighting, but Dick had done it up until now. And it had left a thin sheen of sweat on his skin.

“Good,” Bruce says in a rare show of compliment, and then he goes and ruins it with, “but not good enough.”

“Just you wait,” Dick huffs. “Give me, like, a year, and I’ll be kicking your ass all the way to the Watchtower.”

“Hnn.”

Dick rolls his eyes as Bruce lets him up. Expressive as that was, Dick thinks that maybe Bruce should consider not talking in Bat-speak when he’s around anybody other than Dick and Clark, so that they can understand him.

Dick dusts himself off as he stands up, and turns to face his teammates. Wally still looks pale, Artemis has her mouth hanging open, and Conner and M’gann are both openly staring. It’s only Kaldur that’s regarding him weirdly. He looks like Alfred does sometimes when Bruce and Dick spar at home—some weird mixture of pride and sadness.

Dinah’s smiling, though, as is Clark, so Dick grins brightly, ignores his teammates, wipes the sweat from his forehead, and asks, “Well? Who’s next?”

[tiemeupspidey]

Power Couple

Series: Tom Holland Imagines

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: swearing and cuteness

Word Count: 1,200+

Request from @asmolarab :Tom and the Reader are dating. The reader is a famous musician.

Also inspired from the recent drama of his fans saying rude stuff on that models page after he liked her photo… Like c’mon he’s 21 let him live pls. 

ALSO…..

THERE I’VE SAID MY PEACE NOW ENJOY THE IMAGINE BABES xx

[Reader’s POV] 

   Today you were home with Tessa waiting for Tom’s interview to start. Lounging in leggings and one of Tom’s pullovers. Walking over to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Asking Alexa to turn up the tv so you could hear it from the kitchen.

     Tessa following you around whenever Tom wasn’t home. Getting the kettle ready and placing it on the stove. Reaching into the cupboard for a mug then for your organizer full of teas. Picking out which tea you want today ,you pick it from the slot.

     Tearing it open you pull the bag out and set it into the mug. Throwing the trash away turning around once you hear the kettle whistle. Reaching over you lift it up and grab your mug. Pouring the hot water into the mug seeing the light steam rising from the mug. 

     A smile rises to your face as you smell the raspberry scent fill your nose. Grabbing a the sugar spoon and doing one little spoonful. Opening the fridge you grab the almond milk out of the fridge. Pouring a small amount then putting it away. Pulling out the drawer and taking out a spoon to stir everything together.

“Tom Holland will be on next after the break!” The host’s voice fills the air making you look over from hearing your boyfriend’s name. A smile on your face thinking of him. You’re so proud of where he is right now.

“C’mon Tess, let’s go back and wait for daddy to come back on” Leaning down rubbing her head and stroking the side of her face with your thumb. The two of you head back to the living room and sit down on the L shaped couch.

    Sipping your tea you open up Instagram on your phone. A spam of comments on your new photo making you roll your eyes. Tom’s fans were giving you shit since the moment he announced the two of you dating. It was worse whenever Tom would like your photos cause you received so much hate for it.

     Checking the charts on Itunes you see your album at the top. Pride replaces the annoyance from Tom’s fans. You did this, your album hit number one on the charts. All your hard work was paying off and it was so satisfying. Tessa barks making you look up from your phone. She sat below the tv looking up at the screen. Her tail is wagging as she see’s Tom popping up on the screen.

     Setting your phone aside you get comfortable on the couch. He looked so damn handsome in that outfit, how’d you get so lucky for him to fall for you? Watching him sit down on the interviewers couch taking a sip from the cup near him.  He was always drinking something during interviews.

“So Tom, congrats on the new movie man you did a brilliant job!” the interviewers thick English accent was easy to understand. Tom’s smile made your heart flutter, he is literal perfection and all yours.

“Thank you so much, It was a blast to film and the cast was amazing and it’s all thanks to Marvel and Sony” 

“Also we just got news of your girlfriend’s album she just released” the host points towards the screen. An image popping up of it being number one on the charts. Tom’s face filled with shock, a smile on his face.

“That’s amazing! Angel I’m so proud of you, wow you did it! Can’t wait to give you a massive hug when I get home” Tom’s excitement for you made you tear up. Recognition from him meant the world to you. He stands up dancing in a circle then blowing a kiss to the camera for you. 

-

“Darling, I’m home! Where are my two favorite girls?” Tom’s voice comes from the living room. Getting off the bed you head towards the doorway.

    Walking out of the bedroom to see him holding a bottle of champagne and a bouquet of roses. A grin on your face from the sight. Tessa was sitting next to him with her tail wagging. Heading over to Tom giving him a kiss on the lips. You didn’t deserve such a great boyfriend, you’re blessed.

“I love you” you smile wrapping your arms around his waist. The feeling of his arms wrap aroung you made you sigh in content. Smelling the roses that were being held near you.

“I’m so proud of you and how far you’ve come darling, I love you more than you can imagine.. I know my fans can get angsty and I apologize for their behavior.. Just know I’m yours and you’re mine” His lips press against your forehead. Your eyes closing absorbing all the love that was radiating off of him. 

    Moments like these were the best. He always knew how to make you feel better through the stress. The both of you could barely do anything without getting attacked by the fans. Your actions either being bashed or turned into memes. It was hard being famous sometimes, it had it’s perks but it’s mentally exhausting.

“Can we get drunk and order some pizza?” opening your eyes to a grinning Tom, he loved those kind of nights. Drinking with Tom always lead to some interesting nights. Funny and sexual kind of nights with Netflix and major chilling.

“Hell yes we can, it’s a time to celebrate you made it to fucking number one on the charts!” He raises to bottle up in the air sticking his tongue out. His face making you giggle from how much of a goof he really is. 

   Walking over to the kitchen together he grabs two glasses from the collection he had. Opening the champagne with a pop Tessa barks loudly taking off towards the bedroom. The two of you laugh at how she reacted as he pours the bubbling liquid into the glasses. Handing you a glass he takes the last one. Tapping the side of it acting like he had a knife, a giggle escaped you.

“To many more celebrations and successful moments we get to share together!” Tom smiles clinking his glass with yours. Taking a sip you hum in satisfaction.

“Let me grab the phone to order the pizza” He says setting his glass down reaching for the land line. Taking a few more sips quickly finishing it, you wanted to get drunk. This bottle isn’t going to finish itself.

    Setting the glass down you wrap your arms around Tom’s waist. His hand rubbed circles on your back but stopped when you started kissing his neck. Kissing from the base of his neck to right below his ear. You could hear his breathing getting shaky. A grin made its way to your lips from how you could make him feel.

“Fuck the calories out of me Holland” you whisper pressing a kiss to his jawline. Pulling away you see his mouth slightly ajar. Looking at him you see his eyes get a shade darker making you gulp.

“So fuck you now, then after and again and again.. Got it” Tom’s voice husky as his hands slide down to your waist. Before you could say anything Tom lifts you over his shoulder taking off towards the bedroom.

“Ah! Tom put me down you lil shit!” you shout wiggling in his grasp, earning a slap to your ass.

“Looks like I’m going to hit number one on the charts tonight as well” Tom snickers shooing Tessa out of the room and closing the door.

Tom was definitely already at number one on charts for being an amazing boyfriend,best friend and lover.

[1111ljk]

Request: Name

 Anon Request #1: 6/8/17 

two-shot.

count  ➵ 1,403 words

genre  ➵ angst, fluff, a lil comedy, [WARNING: some cursing in there]

theme ➵  bestfriend!jungkook

characters  ➵ jungkook, you

PART 2

PART 1/2

   Jeon Jungkook. It was a name so familiar to your lips that saying it would be no different to breathing air. It was a name you found comfort in, a name you called at times of trouble, misery, despair, happiness, and all sorts of things. It was also a name you screech at the top of your lungs at seven in the morning at a bus stop. 

   “Jeon, do you even use your new phone for the right reasons?” you hissed, fingers crumpling the collar of his blazer as soon as he was in your reach. You drag him up to the bus, scanning both of your cards (which you kept at all times because Jungkook, that darned boy, could never remember to bring his own shit).

   “Duh,” he answered matter-of-factly, panting as he uses your shoulder for support. “Gotta catch all them Pokemons!”

   You rolled your eyes at his statement, about to head to your usual spot until you felt yourself slightly pushed to the side. He beats you to the window seat this time, focusing his attention on Seoul’s lovely morning sight. Meanwhile, you stood with your arms crossed, a foot tapping against the soft floor of the bus. “Excuse me?”

   Jungkook looks up to you, eyes fluttering as he innocently hums a ‘hm?’.

   “That is my spot.”

   The boy blinks, turning his head to check the headrest. “Don’t see your name written on it.”

    Jeon Jungkook, you almost forgot, was a name that irritated you as much as it comforted you. But instead of arguing for it, you grumpily took a seat next to him, hugging your bag in annoyance. He chuckles in return, a breathy light-hearted one, as he slung his arm around your shoulders. It gave you a good view of him as he focused back on the scenery.

   You never really noticed how good-looking Jungkook really was. That was an understatement. Jungkook was a total definition of a man. He had a jawline that even guys would fawn over, veins in the right place that girls would gladly count(creepy thought though), and big sparkly eyes that you would give in to any time you fought. Jungkook was breathtaking.

   Jeon Jungkook was more than just a name to you. It was more than just a popular example at college that girls threw around when asked about their ideal type. 

   It was the name tag you first read in fifth grade after a couple of guys picked on your for your quirky pigtails. The owner being a chubby classmate of yours who helped you up and told you your pigtails were cute after he pulled both of them and ran. You cried, yes, but he scared away anyone else who made you cry, claiming only he had the right to do so. 

   It was your playdate in sixth grade that your mother had endlessly and excitedly talked about the previous night. You were definitely surprised to see him on the playground with his mom. There was an awkward silence for the first few minutes, until he spoke what you’ve been holding back to say. ‘Aren’t we too old for playdates?’

   It was your first girl friend’s crush and a name she later on hated. Jungkook was notorious in his younger days for being such a heartbreaker. Unfortunately, you were his bestfriend and the target of stickly thin, baby-faced eighth grader girls’ hatred. It was alright. He promised to buy you pancakes every morning.

   It was the caller ID you see every day after school in the ninth grade and up until now. It was ddukbokki on Mondays, kimbap on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and ramen on Thursdays and Fridays.

   It was a name you grew to love and hate at the same time. Jungkook was your bestfriend, your other half, basically your family. It was a name that was like air to you, you were so used to it - yet why did your heart suddenly decide it was okay to skip a beat?

   It had been weeks since you felt that first thump in your heart. Every day, you started to understand why Jungkook was so appealing to the rest of the female population. Sure you knew he had a very nice face, you knew he wasn’t particularly good at books and papers, but he was the star of each and every sports team there was at your institution. Of course, you knew that if he gave enough interest, he would be the class genius as well. Jungkook was a modern prince - courageous, attractive as hell, and most importantly, he was so kind. At least to you. It scared you. It scared you how the reasons were getting clearer and clearer.

   Jungkook always sits next to you whenever a chance is given. Today was one of those days. He slides ever so smoothly to your right poking your cheek as you chugged a glass of milk. “Whatcha doin’, ugly?”

   You roll your eyes, an instinctive response at whatever he says. “What do you want?”

   He let out an overly-dramatic, high-pitched, K-drama laugh. “Watch a movie with me,” he whined.

   “Don’t I always? Like, every Friday?” you raised an eyebrow.

   Jungkook grins, suddenly pouting and poking his index fingers at each other, before clinging at your arm. “I wuv you.”

   Normally, you’d wince, throw something at his face. You’d be repelled by his ugly cutesy act. But there it was again, that thump. Then another, and then it got to the point where your heart was a beating mess. Fuck, you thought.

   He looks up at you, smirking smugly. “Are you blushing?” he coos. “Cute.”

   Then your heart was on overdrive.

   Days had passed since then and now you were at his house, in the lousiest outfit you have ever put together, not really minding it since it was only Jungkook who’d seen you this way. You let yourself feel comfortable on his bed, which was almost like a second bed to you anyways. 

   Waiting for him to come back, you decided to set up the movie on his laptop. To your surprise, he had a password. It was strange. Jungkook was a careless and reckless man. He had no time for such things as passwords. Hell, he’d probably forget his own password. You shrugged it off anyways. You had no idea what his password would be though, but you tried anyways. 

   ironman97

   Wrong.

   ironman

   Wrong.

   You searched through all the possibilities in your head. Jungkook may have put a password but you were sure it was nothing complicated. After all these years, the one thing you really learned about him was that he was not a man who was into complication.

   leejieun97

   Correct.

   What an idiot, you thought. An idiot fanboy. Of course, his love for IU never ceases. You roll your eyes and waited for it to load. He left his Facebook page open and your heart crumbled a little. Everything was the same as you had always seen except for that open chat box beside yours. Jungkook was seeing someone?

   A gasp snapped you out of your ten second misery and, in your panic, you minimized the browser.

   “How did you know my password?” he breathed out, placing a hand over his mouth. 

   “Well, genius, leejieun97?”

   He blushed and threw a chocolate bar at you. “Shut up! IU gives me life.”

   He jumps into the bed, an awkward silence filled you both as you stared at the desktop view. You could feel a tense aura. 

   “So, you saw, huh?” he finally spoke up.

   It took you a second to answer. “Yeah.”

   “I was gonna tell you, I swear,” he tries to apologize, hugging you from behind. You didn’t see why he needed to. It was his life after all.

   You let out a half-hearted chuckle.” Congrats, loser, your ugly ass finally got a girlfriend.”

   “Um, sweetheart, this,” he points to his face. “...is almost as good as your Hyungsik.”

   You blinked. “Okay, coconut head ass lookin bitch.”

   “Excuuuuuuse me?!” he bellowed as he pounced on you to tickle you.

    That was the first time you felt uncomfortable being in the same room with him. For some reason, you wanted to go home, stay in bed all day. You didn’t understand why you hated it, but through out the thrilling scenes of Iron Man where Jungkook gleefully cheered for his favorite superhero, you realized.

   You liked him.

A/N: THIS TOOK SO LONG SOMEONEKILL ME. I FORGOT TO EDIT AND PUBLISH IT. IVE HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS LKFJGLKFD.

[itwasntahug]

You Dug This Grave Yourself, Sweetie

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader Word Count: 2230 Summary: The basic plot of Tony Stark’s daughter gettin’ together with Spider-Man behind his back, that I just can’t get enough of… Warning: Ya girl didn't edit this (Please forgive me, I promise I'll edit the next one)

“You know you’re a deadman, right?” Bucky smirked knowingly, plopping onto the couch beside Peter, a bowl of cereal in his hand.

Not entirely sure what was happening, Peter slumped into the couch, cautiously; “A-and why’s that?” He asked, trying, and not succeeding, to keep his cool. Unknowingly, his brows furrowed, and his eyes puppy-dogged.

Peter had been watching some TV in the Tower, waiting for you to return home from drama club. But he was telling everyone he was hanging around until Tony needed him.

“Well,” Bucky sighed, taking a spoonful of his snack, “Natasha saw you and Lil’ Miss Stark getting cozy on the couch the other day,” he explained cockily, “You guys… You know,” he waved his hand as he gathered his thoughts, “Together?”

Immediately, Peter shook his head, “What?” He laughed awkwardly, “N-no! Of course not; Mr. Stark gave me direct orders not to do that—“

The door swung open and Nat walked in before Peter could finish his ramble. She eyed the TV before eyeing the pair on the couch; “Ren and Stimpy, guys? Really?”

Her gaze was met with two blank stares, and she unknowingly furrowed her brows. “What?” She asked, cocking her head.

“Nothing,” Peter said quickly, “We weren’t talking about anything.”

Bucky smirked, raising his eyebrows. “Well I wouldn’t say it was nothing,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I was just asking Pete if he had anything goin’ on with Y/N. He says nothing’s happening,” he grinned, knowingly.

Natasha rolled her eyes, “And where’d you hear that from?” She asked, almost annoyed. Peter watched the interaction completely nervous, having no idea the word would get out about him and Y/N so quickly. He wasn’t particularly skilled when it came to lying, and hadn’t a clue where to go from here.

Bucky shrugged, taking another bite, “Steve told me.”

Nat sighed, slouching into the couch, “You know,” she began, “for a guy with so much integrity, you’d think he’d be able to keep his mouth shut.”

Peter slinked into his seat as Natasha turned her attention on him. “So,” she continued, getting visibly happier, “It’s true then?”

Peter shook his head, gently, his eyes wide like a deer’s.

Natasha chuckled, “You’re kidding,” she shook her head smiling, “You’ve sweat out like two pounds since I’ve entered the room.”

As soon as Peter opened his mouth to refute her, the door swung open again, and you walked in, you backpack in hand. Throwing it onto the ground beside the door, you made your way to the three in the living room.

“Ren and Stimpy?” You asked, cocking your head to the side, “Tough week?” You asked sympathetically, looking at Bucky.

Bucky shook his head, “Not me,” he shook his head, smiling, “Your little boyfriend’s choice,” he said, gesturing to Peter with his spoon.

Your eyes widened immediately, making Bucky smirk, and Natasha grin. “What?” You asked, “How did you know?” You eyes shot to Peter, who looked even more nervous than he did when he first asked you out. “Peter,” you all but growled.

His hands shot up in surrender, “It wasn’t me!” He exclaimed quickly, “I didn’t tell anyone!”

“Then who told!” You cried, flopping onto the couch.

Natasha smirked before shrugging her shoulders, “I noticed you two getting all cuddly on the couch the other night,” she explained nonchalantly, “But I only told Bruce.”

“And Bruce told Steve,” Bucky continued for Natasha, “And Steve told me, and now I told you. It all came full circle,” he grinned annoyingly.

You sighed and crossed your arms, “So my dad doesn’t know?” You asked, hopefully.

Natasha shrugged, grabbing for the remote, “If he doesn’t know by now, he will soon,” she said, “He’s a pretty smart guy. And apparently the team has some pretty big mouths.”

Peter finally spoke up, “But neither of you will tell him?” He asked, earning a chuckle from Bucky.

“We’ll see what happens,” he grinned, “The place has been pretty quiet recently, we need something to keep us entertained.”

Natasha threw a pillow from the chair at him, “They’re just kids, let them live,” she chastised, before turning her attention back to you. “If you don’t want Tony to know, then I won’t tell him. And neither will Bucky.”

***

About a week had gone by since the incident in the living room. However, despite the knowing looks and off handed comments made by the gang that you deemed incredibly obvious, your father was still in the dark about you and Peter.

The first few days you two kept your distance: you kept yourself busy with school, projects, and drama club, while Peter kept busy thinking of new ways to keep busy. He wasn’t very good at it.

After dinner one evening, while you were running lines over for a play you still had weeks to prepare for, a knock came to your window.

Sighing, you stood; only one person would ever knock on your window instead of your door.

Swinging back your curtain, and raising your eyebrows, you flung the window open, sending a beep throughout your room. “It’d be a lot more inconspicuous if you used the door, Pete,” you sighed quietly, ushering him into your bedroom.

“I know, I know,” he breathed heavily as he climbed inside. He was full Spider-Man, suit and all. Taking off his mask, he grinned sideways, “But I’ve been helping old women cross the street, and scouting for civilians in need of help for like ninety minutes, and got bored.”

You sat back down onto your bed, but before you could speak, your father did.

“I heard the beep,” he said through the intercom, “Are you okay, Y/N?” You ears perked up, and you quickly replied, hitting the button beside your bed.

“Fine, dad,” you said hurriedly, “I just opened the window, I was kind of hot,” you answered, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as Peter joined you, sitting on the corner of your bed.

There was a pause before his reply came. “… Why didn’t you turn the air-con up?” He asked, cautiously.

You rolled your eyes as Peter looked at you, blinking nervously. “I don’t know, Dad, I just wanted the window open. Is that okay? It’s just a window.”

You head him sigh, “Sure,” he replied shortly, “Shut it before you go to sleep though, you know how I worry.”

Grinning gently, you replied, “Of course, dad.”

“Goodnight, Sweetie.”

“‘Night, Dad.”

Peter looked at you, his face still giving away just how worried he was. “That was close,” he stated, his breathing still heavy.

You rolled your eyes, “Barely,” you replied, “He was just saying goodnight,” you said, unable to keep back your grin, “You gotta calm down, Pete.” Leaning on your knees, you pressed a gentle kiss onto his lips, smiling as you did.

He was hesitant to return it, but kissed your forehead instead; “‘You know how I worry,’” he said, doing his best Tony Stark impression, “Y/N, he’s going to kill me!” He whisper-yelled, his eyes growing wide.

You shook your head and furrowed your brows, “He would never,” you refuted him, sitting back against your headboard, “And if you were so worried, why did you come over?” You asked him, knowingly, raising your eyebrows.

“Because I missed you!” He exclaimed, throwing up his arms, “We’ve barely seen each other all week, and every time we are together, Bucky and Steve are around and they never stopped teasing me! And more teasing than usual, too! This sucks.”

Raising your eyebrows, you replied, “Would you rather tell my father?” You asked, “Well would you?”

Peter sighed, throwing his mask on your bed side table, and moving up to sit beside you. “I just miss you,” he groaned, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Immediately, you slumped against him. “How angry do you think Mr. Stark would be if he figured out I stayed the night?” He asked petulantly, as he rested his cheek on the top of your head.

You grinned and shook your head, “He would go full momma-bear,” you answered with a sigh, looking up at him. Grabbing his hand that was resting on your shoulder, you began fiddling with his fingers, “When should we tell him?”

Peter sighed, “I don’t know…” He replied, “I think I should bulk up, first—“

Before Peter could finish his thought, the door swung open, and your father rushed in, his hand and forearm armed in his suit, and directed at the two of you.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and Peter was suddenly off of the bed and back by the window.

“I knew it!” Your dad yelled, angrily, “I knew I heard voices— You would never just ‘open the window,’ you hate bugs!”

You jumped to your feet, as Peter began attempting to cover his ass. “It’s not what it looks like Mr. Stark,” he began hurriedly, his cheeks a bright red, “I was just… We were just… Doing… Chemistry homework,” he finished poorly.

You rolled your eyes, but your dad hopped in before you could. “Is that right, Spidey,” he asked, terrifyingly calm, “Because that’s exactly what I would have guessed from the complete lack of textbooks and notebooks and pencils,” he yelled again, gaining the attention of Natasha and Steve who decided to join him at the door of your bedroom.

“They’re just kids, Stark,” Nat said, trying to push Tony’s armed hand down that was aimed directly at Peter. “They weren’t doing anything; it’s not even past her curfew,” she reasoned gently.

“Oh,” your father snarled in reply, as you and Peter shared a panicked look, “Are you the parent of either one of these children, Natasha? Because I don’t recall you helping raise either one of them—“

“Hey,” Steve butted in, “She was just making a point.”

Without saying another word, your father, keeping his aim on Peter, closed the door behind him, leaving both Steve and Natasha out of your room.

“How long?” He asked, looking at Peter. 

You sighed, walking up to your father, “Dad,” you sighed, “Stop that,” you said as you took of his suit. “You’re scaring him.”

Tony looked at you, incredulously, “That’s the point,” he explained, nearly out of patience. 

“Stop it,” you spat. “It’s only been a few months.”

“A few months?!” Your dad exclaimed, “A few months?!”

You shrugged your shoulders, “We were afraid to tell you!” You replied at the same volume as your father, “Because of this reason exactly!” You reasoned, gesturing to his entire person. “You’re freaking out, dad!”

Immediately, he calmed down, which somehow frightened you even more than when he was full momma-bear. “I’m cool,” he replied bitterly, “I’m cool. Just have a few questions, Parker,” he said through his teeth. “What intentions do you—“

“Dad!” You exclaimed, exasperated.

He sighed, “Fine, fine,” he said, putting up his hands in surrender. “I’m reasonable,” he said, mostly to himself, “I am an adult. I can handle my emotions,” he sighed, closing his eyes, as you shared another moment of panic with Peter.

“Listen,” Tony continued, “This is definitely… a surprise,” he shrugged, “He’s not the worst,” he said gesturing vaguely to Peter, while looking at you.

“Thank you Mr. Stark,” Peter replied hurriedly.

“I wasn’t done,” Tony cut him off, before calming back down. “I know you can handle yourself, Y/N,” he said, turning his attention to you. “And I know you can make your own decisions. But if he ever does anything wrong, I want you to tell me. And if I ever see him do anything wrong, don’t think I won’t bring it up to the both of you, understood?”

You nodded your head, “Yes, dad,” you replied, simultaneous with Peter’s, “Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Tony nodded his head in understanding, “Now with that being said,” he continued, “I’ll bring your attention back to the contract you signed when you were nine years old,” he said, “The itemized list of 32 ‘When I get a Boyfriend’ Rules.”

You rolled your eyes, groaning as you flopped down on your bed.

“What?” He asked, shrugging his shoulders, “Yeah, it was seven years ago, but if you recall, number 32 reads, ‘Even though this is nine year old Y/N signing this contract, it applies to Y/N’s of all ages. You dug this grave yourself, Sweetie,” your father said sassily.

You sighed, raising your eyebrows, which was apparently all that Tony needed.

He raised both of his hands in surrender; “Fine,” he sighed, “I’ll make some revisions. But I’ll tell you what’s not leaving that contract, Spidey,” he said turning his attention back to the very nervous Peter Parker who was still standing at your window. “No sneaking in through windows, no closed bedroom doors, and no bedroom visits at any time after dinner. All of which are being broken right now,” your dad continued, borderline threateningly.

Shooting your father the finger guns, Peter grinned nervously, “Of course Mr. Stark, I’ll be going then… Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” he blushed, “And I’ll text you when I get home… Um, goodnight Mr. Stark… G’night, Y/N,” he smiled, as he grabbed his mask and head back out of your window. “And may I just add,” he said, before closing the window, “This went far better than expected—“

“You may not,” Tony replied, “Get out of here, Parker, before I have you forcefully removed.”

“Got it,” Peter said quickly, shutting the window, and waving goodbye to you before really leaving.

Your dad sighed, as he sat on the corner of your bed, and you climbed under the covers. “Really,” Tony sighed, “That’s the guy you want?”

[bxchanan-barnes-deactivated]

An Original Design

Hey! @tourmei SURPRISE I’m your secret santa!! I’m sorry this is so long, and even sorrier that this is so late!!! This was supposed to be a cute lil drabble, but it turned into this monster, so….. You’re welcome? I’m sorry? Both, maybe? IDK. BUT, I HOPE U ENJOY!!!

FYI: Post-reveal. Adrienette. Ft. Alya. Rated T for a few choice words. Word count: 4,252 (yIkes) My version of Gabriel tryna be a good father ok???? Let me dream.

AO3

Marinette doesn’t ask for much, especially not of those she is closest to. She doesn’t demand for materialistic things, she doesn’t insist on having their undivided attention, she doesn’t expect them to drop everything for her at a moment’s notice.

And she certainly does not expect for them to shove her onto Gabriel Agreste’s runway. Mid-fashion show, no less!

Oh, Alya is lucky I love her, Marinette thinks with a scowl, glancing around at all the stage lights and camera flashes and shocked faces, otherwise, I would kill her.

Earlier

Alya slings her dress bag and overnight bag over her shoulder before knocking on her best friend’s bedroom door.

“Marinette? You decent?”

A few bumps and strange noises later, the trapdoor swings open to reveal a nervous wreck that only somewhat resembles Marinette. Her usually tame hair is a disheveled mess, her pajamas are wrinkled, and her eyes are wide with panic.

All in all, she’s a total mess.

“Uh….hey?” The blogger asks cautiously, raising an eyebrow up at the girl before her.

“Hi,” Marinette squeaks, giving a nervous grin.

Alya hesitantly climbs into the bedroom, expecting it to be as big of a mess as her friend is. But nothing was out of the ordinary, except for the chaise lounge; it looked as if all of the other girl’s fancy dresses and shoes were thrown haphazardly onto the chair. She turned to look at the raven haired girl beside her, raising an eyebrow.

“Let me guess. We have two hours to be dressed and out the door and you still don’t know what you’re wearing?”

“No.” She lies.

“Oh boy..”

“In my defense, he didn’t exactly give me enough of a notice to get a fancy dress in time!” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“He wanted it to be a surprise!” Alya reasons as she recalls the conversation she had with Adrien last week.

Adrien had been wracking his brain for weeks, trying to figure out what to get Marinette for her birthday. He didn’t want to take her out for a fancy dinner - he’d done that on their one monthiversary. Nor did he want to get her jewelry - none of it stuck out to him and it would just clash with her Ladybug earrings anyways. With only a few days left before her seventeenth, he was at a total loss. Until Alya so conveniently dropped a hint, of course.

“Adrien, dear, let me walk you through something.” She’d began, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Not only are you the son of the renowned fashion designer Gabriel Agreste, but you’re also a model. Who is dating an aspiring and hella good fashion designer who idolizes your father’s work.”

“And?” He replied slowly, obviously missing her point.

“And Mari has always dreamed of going to one of his fashion shows, which you so happen to be working one this saturday… You get where I’m going with this?”

All of a sudden he grinned, all bright eyes and sparkling teeth, and threw his arms around Alya in a bear hug. “Alya! You’re a genius!” He laughed in utter glee at finding the perfect gift for his wonderful girlfriend. “Taking her to an actual fashion show. I’m such an idiot. How the hell did I never think of this?!”

He paused, a frown replacing his smile in the blink of an eye. “But I’ll be working and I’d hate for her to be alone all night.”

“Oh, fine! I’ll go with her to keep her company!!” Alya said, dramatically rolling her eyes and acting as if it were the biggest inconvenience life had to offer.

He grinned again and shouted a quick “Thank you!” as he ran off to work out the details.

“Yeah, well now he can shove it cause I don’t have anything to wear!” Marinette practically shouted, frantic once more.

Alya shakes her head, trying her best not to laugh at her best friend.

She drops her things on the floor and begins to look through the clothes on the chaise chair. Finding nothing good enough for Marinette to wear to the event tonight, she then moves to the closet. Upon first glance, it was all casual wear. But then something in the back catches Alya’s eye; a deep red dress with a black ribbon around the waist. Taking a closer look, she could see that the black ribbon had gold beading on the front. It was beautiful and elegant enough for a fashion show. Furrowing her brow, she retrieves it and turns to look at Marinette.

“What about this?”

“But…that’s an original design. By me. I can’t wear one of my original designs to a Gabriel Agreste fashion show! It would be total career suicide!” She cries out, throwing her hands up in the air in distress. “I can’t even believe you suggested such a thing! You know how many designers and famous people and magazine companies will be there?! Way, way too many for me to wear an original design. And for sure they’ll all know that dress was hand made by a seventeen year old! I’ll be a laughing stock; surely Adrien’s father will be embarrassed. And I know he’s my boyfriend and won’t admit to it, but Adrien will probably be embarrassed, too.” She concludes with a huff, flopping face down onto her bed in misery.

Alya pauses, opening her mouth to respond to her drama queen of a best friend but ultimately decides not to. She sits beside Marinette, gingerly laying the fancy dress beside her.

“Marinette, you listen to me.” The brunette says, and the stern tone of her voice prompts the other girl to open one eye just enough to peek up at her.

“This dress is amazing. No one will ever guess that any average seventeen year old made it. And when you do tell them that you made it - because people will ask because it’s magical - you tell them that you made it. They’ll be shocked, too, cause like I said, it’s fucking magical, girl.”

The amateur fashion designer sits up, pushing her hair away from her face as she looks at her friend through her lashes.

“You think so?” She asks, and her voice is so small but so hopeful that Alya can’t help but give her an encouraging grin.

“Duh.”

The two girls share a hug.

“And neither Agreste guy will be ashamed of this dress,” Alya adds once they pull away. Her smile turns wicked, suddenly. “-I’m willing to bet that when Adrien sees you in this dress, he just might pounce on you on the spot.”

Like a cat, Marinette muses as she tries to hold in her laughter. But she just can’t contain it; she bursts out in giggles, a light blush blooming on her cheeks at the thought of her boyfriend reacting in such a way, especially in civilian form and not as Chat Noir.

“Okay, okay. I’ll wear it.”

“'Atta girl!” Alya smiles and gently claps her friend on the back.

“Now, lets brush your hair because you look like you got into a fight with a mangy cat.”

More like I was making out with one right before you got here, Marinette laughs to herself as she’s tugged to her vanity.

“Alya! We are backstage at a Gabriel Agreste fashion show! Can you believe it?!” Marinette cries out as she watches the hustle and bustle of models and assistants preparing for the runways. She looks a whole lot like what Alya imagines Chloe would in a Chanel store, eyes filled with wonder and her smile a little bit wild.

“This is the best birthday present ever!!” She squeals, throwing her arms around the brunette in a tight hug.

Alya grins at her best friend’s enthusiasm as they pull apart.

“You have your boyfriend to thank for this, girl – I just planted the idea in that pretty little head of his.”

The raven haired girl blushes and looks down at her fancy black heels - boyfriend. It still felt new to her daily vocabulary, even after these last few months.

“Speak of the devil.” Alya mutters, smirk widening at something - or rather, someone - to the left.

Marinette looks up from her shoes and is met by those green eyes she’s grown so fond of. She quickly glances over what outfit he is going to be modeling next; a simple black and grey three piece suit, but man does he look especially good in it.

Adrien’s eyes widen and his lips part at the sight before him, utterly stunned as he looks over her knee length strapless gown; the dress itself was Ladybug red, and that black ribbon tied around her waist was as black as Chat Noir’s suit with beading as gold as his bell. It flowed out beneath the ribbon, just enough to swish around when she moved. He looks back up at her face, expression shifting from shock into that of a man totally gone in love.

“Hey, Marinette. You look….beautiful.”

She smiles up at him, resisting the urge to throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless – partly for the way he was looking at her and partly for giving her this amazing opportunity, but also a little bit because of how attractive he looks in that suit. Ultimately, she settles for a quick peck on the lips, unable to wipe the silly grin off of her face.

“Thank you.”

“Hi to you too, Adrien.” Alya says, crossing her arms over her chest and feigning offense.

He tears his eyes away from his girlfriend, glancing apologetically at his friend. “Sorry, Alya. Hey.”

He offers a sheepish grin, fighting the urge to look back to his girlfriend until the blogger rolls her eyes, a fond smile on her lips. He takes that as her forgiveness and returns his attention to his girlfriend.

Alya watches the exchange and shakes her head.

Afterall, she would much rather her best friend’s boyfriend ignore her because he’s so taken with Mari, rather than ignore her because they don’t get along.

“By the way,” She interrupts their flirting, or whatever it was that her two weirdos do, gesturing to her best friend’s frock. “-she made this dress. By herself. Don’t you think it’s amazing and totally pro-designer worthy?”

Adrien nods immediately, eyes wide and serious. “Oh, yeah. Totally. At first glance, I assumed my father designed it and I just hadn’t seen it yet. It’s totally on par with his formalwear.”

Marinette blushes at his, her face as red as her dress.

“Oh my gosh.” She giggles, the current events much too much for her to fully process.

“Alya’s right, Mari. You could really make it as a designer. I truly mean that.” He says, and the raw honesty in his voice only furthers her desire to kiss him senseless.

She grins up at him as she bites her lip, barely containing a squeal.

“Thank you. For that…for all of this.” She says, and he meets her eyes and smiles.

“It’s really not a problem.”

The couple share a look and a silent moment, the busy crowd moving about around them.

“You looked good out there, by the way.” Marinette finally says, placing a hand on his chest to smooth out his lapel.

His cheeks redden in the slightest as he chuckles. Alya can’t help but let out an obnoxious snort; her best friend is so wonderfully lame.

“It’s kind of my job to look good, but thank you.”

“Oh. Because you’re a- right. Duh. I-I’m sorry.” Marinette buries her face in her hands to hide her embarrassment. “I’m just so excited. This is absolutely amazing.”

Adrien gently removes her hands from her face so he can place a kiss to her forehead. He holds her hands in his against his chest to keep her near, ducking his head to look her in the eye.

“Like I said, it’s not a problem. I’d do anything for my girl.” He winks at her, watching with delight as a brilliant blush colors her cheeks once more.

“Adrien, your next walk is in twenty!” The runway director calls out, wildly gesturing him over, and the blonde barely stifles a groan as he nods at the man.

“I’m sorry I can’t spend more time with you tonight, but I really am glad you’re enjoying yourself.” He murmurs to his girlfriend, caressing her cheek and giving her a much too short kiss on the lips.

“I’ll catch you later, right?”

Despite the terrible pun, Marinette snorts.

He leans closer to her and lowers his voice so that only she can hear his next sentence.

“We can finish what we started earlier.”

“I’ll be waiting.” She grins at him before leaning up to place a lingering kiss to his lips.

With a great, heaving sigh, he backs away from her, holding onto her hand for as long as possible without dragging her along with him. She watches as he turns around and jogs over to the runway director to prepare for his next walk.

Alya’s scoff brings the bluenette back down to earth.

“Yeah, see you later, Adrien!” Alya calls out after him, sarcasm practically dripping from her words. Then, turning back to her best friend, “Girl, you have him more whipped than Chat Noir is for LB.”

Marinette bites down on her lip to suppress her smile.

Oh, if only you knew…

“Shut up,” She dissolves into giggles, playfully shoving the blogger’s shoulder. “-let’s get a closer look at the stage!”

She grabs Alya by the wrist and yanks her in the direction of the runway, both girls chittering with excitement.

Half an hour later, Gabriel Agreste announces that the next line up is his last for the night. It’s all formalwear, set to be released this April.

Marinette already knows that she’ll be wearing one of these dresses to prom, even if she has to save up for the next three months.

Adrien is modeling two outfits this round, the first one alone and the last one as a couple, so he doesn’t have the chance to visit with her at all. But she’s excited to watch him walk the runway, as she likes watching him enjoy himself and look as comfortable as he does out there.

They make eye contact from across the room and she gives a little wave. He smiles wide, eyes full of happiness.

“Girl.” Alya gasps, elbowing her in the side to get her attention. “His color scheme! Gabriel’s fucking color scheme!”

Marinette tears her eyes away from her boyfriend and looks at the runway; the formalwear is all reds and black, with hints of gold here and there. One female model is wearing a long red cinderella-cut gown with gold beading on the bust, and another is wearing a black gown with red tulle underneath. Some of the male models are modeling red suits with black accents, whereas the other male models’ outfits are the opposite.

Adrien walks onto the stage by himself wearing a black suit with red buttons and a red tie.

“Your dress matches Gabriel-fucking-Agreste’s new formalwear line!” Alya cries out in sheer disbelief, eyes wild as she glances between Mari’s dress and Gabriel’s dresses.

Marinette chokes out an airy laugh, watching the models pose and strut down the runway.

Suddenly, Alya’s expression turns borderline evil, and Marinette has no time to question it.

In the blink of an eye, Alya has pushed Marinette ahead of the line of models and onto the stage. The raven haired girl stumbles into the center of the runway at the base of the long catwalk. A few people spot her, eyes immediately locked on this awkward, stumbling girl shoved onto the catwalk.

Marinette stops, eyes wide and mouth agape, bright lights nearly blinding her. She realizes that not many guests see her yet, so she straightens her back and gathers her determination and what’s left of her courage.

Oh, Alya is lucky I love her, Marinette thinks with a quick, fleeting scowl, glancing around at all the stage lights and camera flashes and shocked faces, otherwise, I would kill her.

After sending a quick death glare at her best friend on the sidelines, Marinette plasters a smile on her face and struts down the center of the runway, hoping to any god out there that she looks like she knows what she’s doing. She tries to recall what she’s seen other models do; she poses for the audience, winks, blows kisses. She’s met with growing applause and and flashing lights.

Upon seeing the crowd going wild at something behind him, Adrien smoothly turns around at the end of the runway to see what all the commotion was about. His eyes land on his girlfriend, making her way down the catwalk towards him, and he stills, eyes wide with a hint of panic etched on his face. They make eye contact and she just shrugs, an apology shining in her eyes. He regains his composure seconds later and extends his arm for Marinette. Once close enough, she grabs his hand and he twirls her into his arms, posing for the cameras.

“What are you doing up here?” He whispers through a well-practiced, forced smile, changing their pose.

“Alya.” was all that she had to say, and by the way he exhaled, she could tell that he needs no further explanation.

After a little more posing and a whole lot of smiling, they were backstage. If Marinette were not on a high from walking the runway, she might have actually killed her best friend for virtually ruining her boyfriend’s billionaire father’s fashion show.

“GIRL.” Her best friend shouts, face lighting up like a Christmas tree as she makes her way over. “That was amazing! Did you see the crowd?! They loved you! I told you they would!”

Marinette smiles, opens her mouth to answer, but then she spots Gabriel Agreste making a beeline towards her. Or maybe towards Adrien, she wasn’t sure. Either way, the brisk strut mixed with his emotionless expression was always terrifying, but she found it more so after potentially ruining his fashion show.

Adrien steps in the direct line of fire, already armed and ready to do damage control.

“Father, I-” The younger Agreste tries to speak first - tries to explain to his father why this girl who is not a model just accidentally walked the runway, tries to tell his father that hey, dad, this is my girlfriend and I’m so in love with her and she absolutely idolizes you, so please, please don’t yell at her and scare her off - but Gabriel doesn’t give him the chance.

“Wait, Adrien.” His father demands, a hand raised in the air to silence him as he sidesteps around his son. He studies Marinette’s dress, eyebrows scrunching together in concentration and confusion. “Marinette, was it?”

The girl in question nods, not trusting herself to speak quite yet.

“Where did you get that dress? I don’t recognize the design.”

Gabriel’s words are demanding, but his tone is far from it. Adrien stills at his father’s words, unsure of what was about to unfold before him, unsure of whether he was still going to have a girlfriend after this conversation ends. His insides twist in anxiety with every passing second.

The young model moves so he’s standing beside Marinette, ready and willing to give any kind of support she might need. As expected, she reaches out for his hand, grasping it with her own.

“I-I made it…Mister Agreste..sir.” The nervous bundle of girl squeaks out, clinging onto Adrien’s arm in fear.

Gabriel almost looks stunned at her answer, but returns to his typical neutral and vaguely intimidating demeanor moments later.

Except this time, the blonde realizes, his father is not intentionally trying to be intimidating. He’s trying to come across as something else. Something Adrien isn’t used to, something like…..nice, maybe? Could his father actually be capable of such thing?

“You did? By yourself?”

She nods, eyes wide as she practically shrinks into herself.

“With or without a pattern?”

“Without.”

“I see..” He pauses, words his next sentence carefully. “-and just why were you on my runway?”

Again, his words would be demanding, but his tone is far from it. Adrien blinks, still unable to move, unable to process just what was going on.

“I didn’t mean to. It-It was an accident..” She tries to explain, fidgeting with her hands. “Y-You see, I-I-”

Alya and Adrien both know that she isn’t going to willingly throw her best friend under the bus, that she was probably, definitely trying to think of some reason she ended up on that runway that didn’t include Alya shoving her there.

She would risk pissing off her boyfriend’s father who so happened to be her fashion idol - which came with so many repercussions in and of itself - just to save her best friend’s ass without a second thought.

And boy, did that realization just do it for Adrien…again.

She was so damn selfless and he was so damn in love.

“I see,” Gabriel repeats, glancing over her dress. “Turn around.”

It’s almost a question, but not quite.

Marinette lets go of her boyfriend’s hand and does as instructed, slowly spinning in a single circle as her fashion designer hero inspects her dress.

Adrien holds his breath as he watches the exchange between his girlfriend and his father.

Where was he going with this? Why wasn’t he yelling? What the hell was happening?!

“I want to buy it.”

Adrien almost chokes on a gasp, Alya’s jaw drops to the floor, and Marinette can’t quite believe her ears.

Did THE Gabriel Agreste, her all time favorite fashion designer, her idol, just say he wants to buy her design?

Pinch me I must be dreaming.

“You-You-but-…I’m..sorry….what?” She blinks, unable to do much else in the moment.

“I want to buy your design.” He repeats, his voice as calm and steady as ever. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Well, I mean, not until after school.” She replies lamely.

Alya tries her best not to snort again; her best friend continues to be so, so wonderfully lame.

“Very well.” He nods, glancing at his son before looking back to Marinette. “Come home with Adrien after school and we can discuss prices and details. Your parents or a lawyer can attend our meeting as well, if that would make you more comfortable.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped and she felt absolutely giddy. She couldn’t believe what was happening!

“Will that be feasible?”

She can’t form words, she can only grin with a dumbstruck look on her face.

Was this really happening?

“Done. Tomorrow, four o'clock, your house. She’ll be there with her manager.” Alya answers for her, speaking in a professional tone.

“It’s me- Um, I’m her manager.. Sir. If it wasn’t clear.” Alya adds on, nodding in confirmation.

“I look forward to seeing you and your manager then, Marinette.” He turns to leave, but pauses to glance at Marinette once more. “It was really nice to finally meet you.” He says, nods as he gives her his version of small smile, and walks off.

What in the name of…

“Father?” Adrien calls out as he follows him, still wildly confused about what just happened and in desperate need for answers.

His father stops and turns around, calmly raising his eyebrows in response.

“What just- Why’d you- What-” Adrien struggles to find the right words to question his father, but, thankfully, he interrupts once more.

“What just happened is that I just met your girlfriend, whom is very talented, and I would like to buy her design, Adrien.” Gabriel says slowly, meaningfully. He glances at Marinette and Alya giggling and squealing to each other, then looks back at his son with a much softer expression than the model is used to. “Don’t hide such things from me for so long next time. Understood?” Gabriel’s words would have been threatening if not for the small upturn of his lips and the ever so slight softness in his eyes.

Adrien nods, unable to keep his happiness out of his expression.

His father places a hand on his shoulder, locking eyes with him. They share a long look before Gabriel clears his throat and politely excuses himself with a simple, “I’ll see you at home.”

A very relieved, very pleased Adrien is left behind, feeling lighter than he has in a long time. He watches his father disappear into the crowd to tend to the fashion show, a warm feeling buzzing in his chest.

He’s barely had enough time to breathe when someone suddenly slams into his side, damn near tackling him in a hug. It takes him a heartbeat to regain his balance and realize the familiarity of the hug before he melts into it, holding his girlfriend impossibly closer.

“He likes you, Marinette.” Adrien breathes, a grin practically splitting his face in half and his heart swelling in his chest. “My father likes you.”

He thinks he might have broken his girlfriend when she just barely holds in a squeal before leaning up to give him a mind-numbing kiss.

Okay, so maybe Marinette shouldn’t be too mad at Alya for shoving her onto that runway. After all, she did just land a design deal with her absolute idol.

Even better, though, she just got her boyfriend’s stony father’s approval.