#these ones fit really well around my hips but were just weirdly baggy in the crotch? WHY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

Text

imax & climax

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

His mom was going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it was.

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

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

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

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get off of me.”

——

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

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

——

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

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theluckyyyoneee · 4 years

Text

antipode | pcy

pairing: park chanyeol x reader

contents: high school!au, soccerplayer!chanyeol, serious!yn, mild cursing, reader becoming very confused and thinks they’re going crazy!seriously reader has minor panic attack:(

word count: 10,2k

summary: AlternateUniverseAU! When the guy you hate—and who you’re certain hates you—becomes your boyfriend after you swore he kicked a soccer ball at your head.

part 01 | part 02 | part 03:finale

You can’t be friends with everybody.

Damned if that wasn’t the truest statement you’d ever heard.

Trying to appear friendly to everyone you met without changing your personality to fit theirs or their expectations they held for you a few moments after first meeting you, you now used that saying as a very important and undeniable proverb to live by at a relatively young age.

You guessed it was a good thing that you weren’t one of those people who needed to be the center of attention or someone who enjoyed being surrounded by people who all pretended to be your friends to your face while insulting you behind your back. So that was why you preferred to keep company in the form of three close friends who were like your own family. Ugh, high school drama.

You couldn’t wait to graduate and spend at least one month relaxing before starting to register and pack up for college, already grimacing at how busy you would be this summer, but at least at college they would treat you more like the adult you were, or at least the adult you felt like, rather than babying you in high school.

“Class don’t forget, I already gave you an extension on yesterdays homework, so I fully expect it on my desk tomorrow afternoon before class starts. Okay?”

Groans erupted from the whole class, save you and a few other students who had actually completed the assignment when it was first issued.

“Ms. Lee, can we just turn it in on Friday please? I haven’t had time to finish it with the soccer practices that I have everyday, I’m sure you know that the game is coming up.” You didn’t even have to look to your right to know it was Chanyeol who was speaking, his smooth and loud words piercing through the noise and the whole classroom silenced at the sound of his voice.

You also didn’t have to look at him to tell that he was giving Ms. Lee his signature kicked puppy expression; wide brown eyes and his lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout. Keeping your constant gaze on your teacher instead, you watched somewhat amusedly at the flush that crept on her cheeks you could see from your seat, the way her hands balled into fists at her side then gripped the material of her slacks as she agreed with a shaky tone, deciding that Friday was a better day after all.

As soon as the teacher had turned her back to the students, no doubt fantasizing a scenario that would land her in jail if she acted upon it, given the teacher student relationship, even though you were certain he was eighteen. Chanyeol and a few of his jockhead buddies next to him exchanged high fives, the bell signaling the end of the school day motivating everyone to spring up from their seats and out the door.

“Ugh,” you muttered under your breath, taking a stand as well and stole another glance in his direction, scoffing and shaking your head slightly at his eyes already on your figure, his head tilted to the side as he wiggled his fingers in your direction, his friends watching from the sidelines, giggling at his actions, slapping him jokingly on the arm as they watched you exit out the door.

Idiots, didn’t they have minds of their own? You didn’t think so, since they chose to spend their time with that pompous and self-entitled jerk. No, maybe they were just as bad as he was, but there wasn’t a way for you to know since they had never attempted to mess with you the way Chanyeol adored.

“Wow, so approachable Y/n, no wonder you only have, like, three friends. You know, you should really appreciate me more for even talking to you.” Junmyeon chides, slinging his arm over your shoulder as he appears suddenly at your side in the busy hallway, keeping close to you to avoid getting in anyone’s way.

A genuine smile crept on your lips and you softly jabbed him in the stomach with your elbow, ignoring how solid his midsection seemed underneath his shirt. A huff of air escaped him and he clutched his stomach dramatically, wringing his hold on your shoulders even tighter and you gasped, grimacing as he pushed your face into his chest as he ruffled your hair with his other hand.

“Yeah right, you with your dad jokes, you would just drive them away.” You retorted, pushing him off you as the two of you neared your locker, shaking your head and fixing your nest of a hairstyle thanks to that nerd. Putting in the right combination on your lock, you smirked as you glanced at him leaning against the lockers next to yours and continued, “I swear, sometimes it’s like you’re a middle aged man inside a teenagers body.”

He opened his mouth in indignation, rolling his eyes and scoffed, looking into the distance as a scowl graced his handsome features. “Not my fault that I have a sense of humor too sophisticated for a peasant’s taste like yours.”

Giving him the middle finger with one hand, you shoved your locker shut with the other and readjusted your backpack and walked alongside Junmyeon in the much emptier hallways towards the school’s exit. Running into Yerim and Kyungsoo along the way, the four of you stopped by the doors leading downstairs, conversing a bit before they had to make their way down to the photography room—both of them involved with taking photos for the yearbook.

You couldn’t help but smile a bit at the way she leaned back into his chest as you talked, his arms casually hanging around her shoulders.

They were so cute.

After awhile their allotted time for conversation was up and they waved goodbye and you continued on your way home. You two resided in the same neighborhood about an eight minute walk away from school, so it was routine to walk home together almost everyday when he didn’t have tutoring on Tuesday and Thursdays.

“Leaving for the day? Must be nice.” A low voice echoed out to you and startled the two of you apart, attempting to calm the pounding of your heart you looked behind to where the loud sound had came from and frowned to see Chanyeol bounding about a yard behind you and Junmyeon, a black gym bag draped casually from his broad shoulders.

Long gone were his baggy tee and jeans and his famous soccer uniform adorned his frame now, looking ridiculously even more tall now than he did before. He eyed the two of you with a deep stare, his lips forming a line as you eyed him with a similar hard gaze and looped your arm in Junmyeon’s.

“Uh, y-yeah, we are. Heading to practice?” Junmyeon replied hesitantly beside you and you eyed him weirdly, wondering why he was acting so buddy buddy with him. While you on the other hand, kept your grip on his arm tight and continued to walk without glancing back.

“Yeah. The teacher wanted to talk to me after class and I still had to change before heading over to the field.”

You rolled your eyes, remembering the blush that was distinctly on Ms. Lee’s cheeks and wondered how that conversation went. Chanyeol probably got his way like he always did.

Junmyeon made a sound of acknowledgement, not really knowing what to say in return to Chanyeol’s story, and he opened his mouth after glancing at you, most likely going to utter an awkward goodbye before Chanyeol cut in before he could with—

“Are you two dating? You guys are always together.”

His tone had a certain edge to it that he didn’t previously possess and you frowned at both his nosiness and his hostility. Why did he care? So he could find another reason to make fun of you?

You were suddenly being pushed away with a gentle hand on your arm as Junmyeon explained quickly, “No, no, we’re not dating. We’re just really close friends and have lived in the same neighborhood since middle school.”

You couldn’t have agreed more, but you were a bit put off by how quick he was to deny a relationship with you, were you really that bad, you pondered with a slight pout.

Chanyeol must’ve seen the expression on your face and pounced at the chance—

“Right, who’d want to go out with Y/n.” His words were said with a snicker, having caught up to the two of you in no time and stepping around you to flash you a smirk, glancing up and down at your figure before exiting the double doors.

“Yah!” You shouted at his back, already being able to tell he was laughing at the way his shoulders shook just before the doors shut behind him with a loud noise. You were fuming at his words, fuming at the way he wanted to make you less than average.

Placing your hands on your hips, you blew air out of your mouth and paced around in a small circle, trying to burn this sudden burst of hot energy you found yourself experiencing. You wished you would’ve landed a roundhouse kick right in the square of Chanyeol’s back, but let’s be honest, you would’ve most definitely missed and given yourself an embarrassing cramp.

“Why do you guys do that?” Junmyeon asked exasperatedly, eyeing the doors Chanyeol had exited out of in a quiet curiosity you were used to seeing on his face by the long years you’ve known him.

Your mouth dropped open at his question and pointed at the closed doors. “He obviously started it! You saw, I didn’t even say anything to him and he still managed to insult me.”

“Was it an insult?”

“How was, ‘Right, who’d want to go out with Y/n, har har’, not an insult? Sure he didn’t outright say any demeaning words or phrases, but it was well implied and you know it.” You lowered your voice when repeating the phrase, trying to mimic the deep tone of Chanyeol’s voice with some difficulty.

He titled his head to the side a bit and pursed his lips, walking ahead of you and opening the door and you had to rush to not be left behind, the heat from the sun warming up your skin. “I don’t think so, but whatever you guys want to call it, it has to stop. Just date already.”

“Excuse me?” You all but screeched, looking at him with an expression of disbelief.

He shrugged and held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Hey, don’t look at me. You were the one who told me you that he was cute when you first met him.”

“That was before he opened his mouth and I found out what a jerk he is,” you mumbled, heat creeping up on your cheeks as you remembered, yes, technically once upon a time you did find Chanyeol somewhat charming and handsome.

You usually stayed away from the athletes, they created unnecessary attention and special treatment wherever they went. It wasn’t as if you had an interest in things such as football, soccer, diving, track, etc., so you didn’t understand the obsession with these athletes that drove everyone crazy at the mere sight of them.

The first time you had laid eyes on Chanyeol, he hadn’t been dressed in his uniform, looking comfortable as ever in a plain t-shirt and jeans combination, and you could admit it to yourself now, that yes, your heart did pick up its pace a bit at the sight of him, your face heating up as you made yourself look away, being stuck in a daze of just gazing at him for sometime.

It wasn’t as if you automatically had the naive assumption that everyone on earth was an angel or anything of that nature, but you thought that he was generally a good person, seeing as no one seemed to hold any grudges or contempt towards him, always greeted and greeting everyone with a wide smile and the joyous everyone reacted to his presence.

You were fascinated by him.

Did your fascination cross some line into a crush like thing? You weren’t sure. It wasn’t as if you wanted to talk to him and enter his busy world, you were completely fine watching him from afar, your faith in humanity returning the tiniest bit by finding a good young person in this Sodom and Gomorrah that you called high school.

Until you had a personal interaction with him.

It was completely random timing, it was an ordinary day, you were already seated in your chair near the back where Ms. Lee had assigned you at the beginning of the semester. You had your book you were currently engrossed with open on your otherwise empty desk, but you had looked up when you heard someone enter.

Chanyeol walked in with his backpack, that looked practically empty to you, comfortably slung over his shoulder and he sauntered to his seat and you froze as the two of you made eye contact for the first time.

You expected for his eyes to skim right past you, but they didn’t. He kept your stare with his wide brown eyes for a few moments longer before he let his backpack fall to the ground by his seat and slowly sank himself in it, you not noticing his teammates and desk buddies watching the whole exchange, their grins hidden behind their hands that covered their mouths.

You blinked and distractedly returned to your book, not remembering what part you had been on before or the context to make sense of this sentence when a pair of large feet encased in some no doubt expensive sneakers came into your view of vision and you whipped your head up to stare blankly at Chanyeol standing about a foot away from your desk, gazing down at you with a smile.

Your lips began to turn up in response to his, until of course he opened his mouth—

“Don’t you have any friends?” He asked you, his voice the usual amount of volume as it usually was but it felt like he had shouted it, the classroom silencing at his words and chuckles began echoing from your classmates all around you two.

Your skin began to flush with the embarrassment at being laughed at, at being made fun of so openly, an unpleasant feeling settling in your stomach as you eyed the confident smirk that rested on his lips as he stared back at you expectantly.

“Of course I do.” Was all you could think to reply, your tone slightly questioning, wondering what he meant to accomplish by asking you that question.

“Then why are you always alone?

Your features twisted into a glare at his next question. What is wrong with him? Why had he chose this particular moment to ask you a somewhat private inquisition in front of the whole class rather than approach you when there were less students present and at a much less close proximity.

Was what his goal? To embarrass you? If so, it was working, as much as you willed it not to.

It was a reaction you couldn’t seem to help. You were human after all, as much as you were confident in yourself, you doubted anyone enjoyed being laughed at unless they were actually trying to be funny intentionally.

Your lips formed to put your thoughts into words when the bell rang, your mouth still open as you watched him leave to return to his seat in the front of the classroom.

You could feel the stares of the students around you and you used your hair as a shield for the rest of the time. Your eyes fixed on the clock routinely, you began quietly packing up your books and pencils and was the first one out of your seat and out the door by the time the bell rang—not noticing the way he stared at you as you sped out the room at lightning speed.

After that, it was as if he had forgotten your existence, how it had been until that one particular encounter. You had given it a discomfiting amount of thought, the only explanation to his questions was that he was in fact trying to embarrass you, the more you thought it, the more his seemingly innocent smile seemed like a sinister smirk.

It was fine for awhile, he left you alone like he’d always had, but you no longer watched him from afar, you strayed as far as possible from him and his buddies who seemed to always be in a sudden giddy mood whenever they spotted you from across the hall or cafeteria. You could feel his eyes on you, but you tried to distract yourself with engaging into a conversation with Kyungsoo as to why he should bake you a cake this weekend.

Then he somehow decided you existed again and began to make passing remarks to you in the halls.

“Nice hair, sleeping beauty!”

You had woken up late thanks to sleeping right through your alarm and had gotten ready in about eight minutes, your hair drying in an awkward way from the way you tossed in your sleep the night before and had thrown it in a ponytail that barely tamed your natural waves that you were trying your best not to feel so self conscious about.

His comment made your cheeks flame as you registered the snickers that sounded all around you at his words. You made no facial expression whatsoever as you passed each other, determined to maintain your nonchalant and confident facade that crumbled pitifully as you were sure he was out of sight.

“What’s up, nerd?”

Chanyeol appeared beside you, a good foot taller than you, but you managed to hear his words just fine in the midst of a million conversations that were happening all around you. He walked ahead of you, but not before he nudged you with his shoulder and knocked the books you held in your arms down tumbling to the floor, earning attentive stares as they stared you bent over, picking up the strewn books off the floor and back into your arms.

He didn’t even look back, that asshole. Seriously, what was his problem?

Ever since then, you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with Park Chanyeol. Not like your over-exaggerated indifference to his glances and stares, seemingly playful waves and loud greetings of your name in a sugary tone that made people stop and look at you deterred him any.

If anything, your lack of reactions only seemed to encourage him, his voice echoed louder in the halls than before. People were starting to associate you with him, amused smirks creeping on their faces and watchful eyes with just the sight of you wandering down the halls.

You hated the way the rest of the whole student body ate from the palm of his hand, laughing and smirking along to his words.

But all you had to do was continue to ignore him, no way was there a chance in hell that you would ever willingly approach him first.

Or so you thought.

“You’re tutoring Chanyeol?”

“I was supposed to, but I can’t. My grandparents flew in and they can only stay for tonight,” he started to explain, looking the least bit frustrated at the surprise visit but mostly excited. “My mom wants me home early to spend time with them before they continue on their journey of seeing the world or something like that, I don’t know.” He sighed, shaking his head. His expression suddenly changed and he was grinning at you broadly and gave you the notebook that was previously in his grip. “Can you just give him this notebook of notes I wrote out for him, he told me that he has last minute practice anyway so it was fine, I wrote everything very clearly and dumbed it down enough for him to understand it.”

“I doubt that, all he knows how to do is how to kick around a ball and think the world revolves around him,” you couldn’t help but mutter, an impressed expression no doubt taking place on your face as you skimmed the contents of the notebook, Junmyeon was very detailed and if Chanyeol still had no idea after studying this guide, he was an even bigger idiot than you thought.

“Y/n, please?” Junmyeon sighed in front of you, even going as far as to clutch your shoulders in his hands as he looked down at you with a pleading expression. “I know you two don’t get along, but just get his attention for one second, point to the notebook and leave it on the bleachers and leave. I would go myself, but I’m already late going home and the field is all over on the other side of the school. Please, I’m counting on you! Thank you! If I’m any later, they said they would send Minseok out to come get me! I’ll text you later!”

He left you with your mouth hanging open watching him sprint down the street and out of your sight in less than ten seconds, almost falling face first after rounding a sharp corner. The sight of him almost biffing it made you crack a grin, wondering just how secretly scary his slightly older brother was to make him run home like that.

Their parents sure made handsome boys, shame though, you knew just how much Mrs. Kim had always wanted a daughter and got stuck with two boys instead.

A grimace came on your features as you sluggishly began your journey to the field, a sigh escaping you. You thanked your luck that it wasn’t a sweltering day or else you would’ve literally turned around and forgotten about the whole thing, but since Junmyeon had seemed really anxious and pleading, you would do him this favor.

He totally owed you a meal for this.

The walk actually wasn’t too bad and passed far quicker than you anticipated, must have been all those years practicing your fast walk to perfection, and you could hear the whistle and yelling from a distance, only becoming more clear and noisy the closer you came to the field, the rich green turf momentarily blinding you if you looked directly at it.

Tall, lean forms in matching white jerseys and shorts ran along the field, each with their own ball, taking turns taking free shots at the goal net at the other end of the field.

Good, at least you caught him early on in the practice as to not possibly getting yelled at by the head soccer coach that had always intimidated you by his yells you could hear miles away.

Clutching the notebook tighter in your grip, you slowly made your way around the fence, coming closer to the bleachers that held many gym bags along with half filled water bottles and towels laid untidily on the seat, making you grimace at the disorder of it all.

Your hesitant arrival becoming noticed rather quickly, you watched with a feeling of impending doom as the whole team shouted Chanyeol’s name, his head shooting up from his focus on the soccer ball in front of him to you, his face changing from a stoic concentration, to shock, then to a smirk.

You eyed the whole ordeal strangely. Maybe Junmyeon had told him that you were coming to drop off the notebook in his stead and to look out for you when you arrived? You ran through your previous conversation with the man in question, but nothing came up of him telling you that Chanyeol was expecting you other than gaining his attention.

Which you did, in a surprisingly short amount of time and effort. His teammates all had big grins on their faces and were playfully shoving him around and your brows furrowed in confusion at the reaction your presence created.

Just show him the notebook and get out, Y/n, you told yourself, gritting your teeth and held up the notebook in your right hand—Chanyeol still staring intently at you, fiddling with the ball at his feet—and dropped it on the bleachers, not bothering to find his personal bag and felt relieved that you managed to complete Junmyeon’s plea with much less difficulty than you were anticipating.

“Watch out!” He suddenly exclaimed with a yell as you caught the tail-end of his kick, his right leg swinging out in front of him with the force of it.

Eyes widening in alarm, your heart beating at an alarming rate as you realized the ball was heading straight towards you, then everything went black with a thump.

You blinked and all of a sudden you found yourself laying in an uncomfortable bed located in the nurses office. A cold and foreign object being placed gently on your temple that throbbed and hurt like a bitch made you flinch back in surprise and pain, a hiss escaping your parted lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” a breathy and apologetic voice sounded from beside you and once again you startled, your heart rate going from a normal range to tap dancing within the confines of your rib cage. You swung your head to the left, only to freeze as you locked gazes with Park Chanyeol, the sight of him and the onslaught of increased pain leaving you to groan, your left hand instinctively coming up to poke and prod at the area causing you so much discomfort.

“Would you stop moving, I’m trying to keep this ice pack on your head.” He spoke again, this time much less breathy and more exasperated, yet still weirdly apologetic, his own hand catching your wrist and gently tugging it back down before you could make contact. He made no move to extract his hand from yours and you eventually pulled away, choosing not to focus on how warm and secure his hand had felt holding yours.

Memories came rushing back to you the longer you stared quizzically at him, a gasp leaving your mouth as the suddenly crystal clear vision of that damned soccer ball zooming straight in your direction, a smirking Park Chanyeol being the one to kick it at you, after all.

“You hit me with the soccer ball!” Yelling only upset your injury more but you didn’t care. You knew he didn’t like you, but kicking a soccer ball at full speed from the other end of a giant field at you crossed the line.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you, it was an accident, I must’ve lost my aim or something.” He rushed out the excuse, his words gaining volume as his expression changed back into what looked like guilt, furrowed brows and he gnawed at his bottom lip as he winced in conjunction as he readjusted the ice pack on your head.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, letting Chanyeol know that you didn’t believe his sorry story for a second. “Yeah, right.”

“What?”

“You totally meant to hit me, there’s no way your aim could’ve missed.” It wasn’t like you were on the actual field standing in front of the net or anything, you had been standing in front of the bleachers.

His mouth flew open and a noise of assault exited his mouth, eyebrows shooting clear up to his hairline at your use of his own words against him, his tone becoming more desperate with each word he spoke, eyes fixed earnestly on yours. “It did! Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because you hate me, that’s why! You’ve probably had this planned for a week, but it backfired because you know I know, and that’s why you’re taking care of me—give me this.” You snatched the ice pack away from him, the movement causing your head to hurt even worse and you reapplied the ice pack to your temple with a groan and a death glare.

Chanyeol was looking at you like you had just eaten the last slice of pizza after taunting him for ten straight minutes, the hurt and betrayal clear in his expression, his dark eyes wide and mouth turned down into an obvious frown as his gaze roamed over you repeatedly.

“Why would you say that? Are you okay? Why on earth would I hate you?” You hated the way those words sounded coming from him. How would he expect you to understand something like that?

“How the hell should I know? You tell me.”

“But I don’t hate you! I love you!” He seemed especially and genuinely earnest now, even more than a few moments ago, going to grab your hand in his once again, but you retreated before he could, a look of hurt crossing his features, and then you registered his sentence.

Well, you weren’t expecting him to ever utter those words in response to yours. “...What?”

“Of course I love you, you’re my girlfriend.”

“WHAT?”

The two of you stared at each other unblinking for a few moments, before you broke it with a tired sigh and shook your head the tiniest bit to as not to upset your headache and injury even more. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but it’s not working, so you can stop. I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

“Stop what?” He seemed confused at your words, large frame scooting closer to yours on the bed, to which you scooted back with a questioning gaze.

You stared at him in all seriousness then and answered with a sneer, “As if we would ever date.”

You had to give him credit, he was keeping his character for longer than you thought he would, and his face still held that expression of bewilderment and concern as he continued to study your face with his wide eyes, his mouth turned down at the sides in a frown.

“Y/n, this isn’t funny, okay? I already feel really bad about hurting you, I get it. You don’t need to pretend to not know who I am.” Gone was his faux concern and in came his signature eye roll that you’ve seen many times, relaxing from his alert position to lean back in his chair.

You squinted your eyes and continued to look at him weirdly, wondering if he was the one who got hit in the head and not you, what with his sudden strange behavior and all. But after a few more moments, you realized you really didn’t care, and just wanted to go home and maybe set up a doctor’s appointment to get your bruise looked at by a professional. It didn’t hurt as much as it did at first, but your head still throbbed from the collision.

“I know who you are, obviously, but we’re not dating—you know what, I don’t really care, I’m going home now, thanks for nothing... except for possibly giving me a concussion.” You huffed as you slid off the bed slowly, shrugging off Chanyeol’s helpful irksome hands as he tried to help steady you, scowling in irritation at how annoying and clingy he was being, deliberating on taking the ice pack home with you but deciding against it and placed it in the sink with a small shrug. Your house wasn’t far from here, surely you would survive the walk. Spotting your bag strewn on the floor by the entrance, you bent down to pick it up, but was beaten to it Chanyeol. He hurried to open the door for you with watchful eyes.

You were beyond annoyed but didn’t have the energy to deal with wrestling it from his grasp and opted to exit through the door, knowing by now he was going to follow.

“Are you being serious? Let me take you to the hospital, I really think you should get your head looked at.” He followed behind you like a lost puppy as predicted, and you wanted to scream.

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?!

You were about to yell your thoughts at him when two identical uniform clad goofs you recognized as his two buddies who he was almost never seen not by his side came bounding to the two of you, concerned expressions adorning their surprisingly—though not so surprising—handsome faces.

Both of their gazes were intense, but the one closest to your right was even more so, the furrow of his eyebrows made your heart rate increase, you would not want this man to be upset with you. But you were the victim here!

You recognized their faces, but had never gone through the trouble to remember their names. Your eyes narrowed at the unexpected close proximity as they hounded you with questions.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

“Are you dizzy?”

“Dude, I can’t believe you actually hit her with the ball!”

At the last comment, you turned your attention back to the guilty giant on trial, giving him the meanest and hardest glare you could muster up before continuing on your way home.

“What’s going on? Did you guys fight?”

“Jongin, she’s sporting a head injury from being hit in the head by a flying soccer ball, genius. Of course she’s upset.”

Ah, so the less intimidating one was Jongin—wait, why did you care?

“But it’s not like you did it on purpose, have you apologized yet?”

“Of course I have! Like a hundred times, I don’t know why she’s suddenly saying that we’re not dating,” Chanyeol piped up behind you, still trailing behind you, albeit at a safe distance. You could imagine his pout in your mind without having to look back at him, convinced his friends were in on this prank he was trying his best to pull off.

Hell, they were probably silently giggling behind your back at this very moment. Mouthing their rehearsed script as to not mess anything up.

You couldn’t trust them, you needed to call Junmyeon. He would assure you this was just a stupid and juvenile attempt to further aggravate you, which reminded you to take your bag back from Chanyeol.

“That’s an indirect way of saying, ‘Let’s break up.’“ Those words were spoken with a laugh.

“Sehun!” The voice you now recognized as Jongin’s whisper-yelled from behind you as you halted in your stride and heaved a sigh.

Enough.

“Y/n, are you really breaking up with me? I already told you it was an accident and that I’m really sorry. That’s not a reason to break up, right?” His eyes were wide when you turned around, lips parted looking very concerned and stared at you as you stepped closer, looking the exact definition of a kicked puppy that only served as more irritation for you.

“We’re not breaking up,” you huff out exasperatedly, stopping in your stride long enough to take your bag back from Chanyeol’s loose grasp, his shoulders drooping with what seemed like relief judging by the sigh that escaped him and the smile he gazed at you with. That quickly faded with your continuation of, “because we never went out in the first place. I told you, I’m not falling for this.”

Turning back around you felt around in the first pocket for your phone after realizing it wasn’t in your pocket, while they continued to discuss among themselves in quiet voices as you grasped the familiar object, not knowing how it got there but didn’t really mind as long as you held it in your hands.

“Do you think she should go see a doctor?”

“Yeah, what if it’s amnesia? That has to be why she can’t remember your guys’ relationship!”

“I’m standing right here, and I’m lea—” Your next word cuts off as you press the home button, as your eyes land on the picture of your wallpaper, brows furrowing and heart beginning to thunder in your chest as you tried to make sense of this.

Replacing your wallpaper of one of your favorite artist’s albums was a photo of Chanyeol. He was obviously posing for a picture, eyes closed and a smile on his face, little stickers and emojis of hearts decorating the space around him, your facial features scrunching up into a grimace the longer you eyed the cursed image.

What the hell?

Were you really—the thought made you gag internally—dating Park Chanyeol?

The thought made you laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, causing the guys to look at you with wide eyes.

Of course you weren’t dating Chanyeol, you would’ve remembered making such a stupid decision. He must’ve been the one to sneak your phone in your backpack after finding a way to change your wallpaper.

To think you nearly fell for this stupidity.

You studied the photo and sighed, wondering if he was really narcissistic enough to take a picture of himself like this and add hearts on it himself.

Who were you kidding, of course he was.

He was willing to go this far for a stupid prank that wasn’t even working?

Feeling much lighter, you showed them your wallpaper with an unimpressed expression on your face. “Ha ha, very funny. How did you change my wallpaper you creep?”

“Creep?” Sehun couldn’t help but let out a giggle at your words, earning a glare and a slap to the arm from the boys by his side and an eye roll from you, a small huff of pain escaping you as the pain in your head from that move, and moved to enter your passcode and frowned as it told you that you had entered it incorrectly.

Typing the numbers in slowly and carefully, you sighed when it told you it was still incorrect, making Chanyeol freeze in his stride towards you as you shot him a glare, immediately jumping to the conclusion he changed it along with your wallpaper.

“And you changed my password, too? Unlock it.” You held your phone out to him with a hard face, just wanting to go home and forget about this.

“I didn’t do anything to your phone, Y/n.” His lips were turned down as he slowly took it from you, then smiled a bit as he gazed down at your screen—most likely at the picture of him. “I didn’t know this was your wallpaper, though. You’re mine, too.” He fished his out from his back pocket and held it out to you, that small grin still placed on his lips, and you frowned at his words, nonetheless taking his phone from his palm.

“Ugh, you damn lovebirds make me sick.” The one you now recognized as Sehun moaned, fake gagging as Jongin laughed along to his words.

Blinking at the picture of you, you couldn’t help the confusion and the bit of panic that hit you. It was a photo you had no recollection of, but you seemed ridiculously happy judging by the wide smile on your face, your face tilted to the side and braced against the palm of your hand, eyes shining brightly as you stared into the camera, bright neon pink blush effects placed on your cheeks with similar heart emojis surrounded your face.

Your breathing became a bit heavier, you continued to look at the picture, heart rate picking up in your chest.

How did he have this picture? When did he take this? You didn’t remember yourself taking a picture like this, you’d never smiled so big like the one on the screen.

This was obviously you, why did you have no memory of it? What was going on?

Placing your thumb on the screen of his phone so the screen wouldn’t go dark, you continued to stare lost at the picture, trying to decipher the background, your clothes, anything that could tell you when this was taken.

The bright lights behind you were hazy and unfocused, no major landmarks or buildings behind you to clue you into where the hell you were.

But you had more pressing thoughts rather than where that picture was taken.

Was it possible the two of you were really dating? That this wasn’t all just a poorly executed endeavor to prank you? Did you really gain amnesia over being hit with the soccer ball and just didn’t remember? How else would him having a picture you didn’t remember being taken—when you could clearly see you willingly posed for it—be explained somewhat logically?

You needed to get out of here.

“...Y/n? Shit, Y/n? Are you dizzy? You look really pale, let me take you to the hospital, I think you should really get checked out.”

Flinching and shying away from the hand he attempted to lay on your shoulder, you noted once again the flash of hurt that passed through his eyes at your actions, but it wasn’t as if you could help it.

Your mind was racing with all these confusing thoughts, and his reaction to your reaction didn’t make anything easier for you, only adding onto it if anything, your expression worried as you tore your eyes from him to flit over the empty hallway, attempting to ignore the concerned gazed of Jongin and Sehun.

“No, I’m fine. I’d rather go by myself...” you trailed off, sluggishly handing him his phone back and exchanging it for yours, forgetting that he still hadn’t told you your passcode to unlock it, but you’d figure it out later.

You just needed to get away from this before you lost your mind, though you felt that it was a bit too late for that, your headache coming back tenfold.

Chanyeol on the other hand, shook his head at your words, a determined expression taking hold on his face and moved with you towards the exit, along with his two lackeys from the sound of six feet following you. “No, I’m not letting you go alone, it’s not safe. You might have a head injury.”

“I have a head injury, thanks to you.” Your harsh tone was a striking contrast from his, your patience running thin from humoring this prank for so long, a weird pang of guilt hitting you as Chanyeol flinched slightly at your words, hearing the halting footsteps of the two behind you.

“Please, Y/n. I would feel better if you let me go with you.” His phrase was delivered with a desperation you just didn’t understand and that fact made you even more upset.

“I’m not going to the hospital with you, I don’t even know you or like you. I’ll just call Junmyeon when I go home and see if he can take me.” Your words were uttered in nothing less than a frustrated growl, causing the words Chanyeol was going to say to die in his throat, his pleading and anxious expression transformed into a much harsher one.

His eyebrows narrowed and his mouth formed a tight line as the two of you continued to stare at each other, neither one blinking as if willing the other one to give up first. Then a sigh escaped him, “Fine.” With that he marched ahead of you in angry steps, leaving you behind to stare at him, not wanting to examine the feeling in your chest as you watched him walk away at your words.

Sehun whizzed past your figure without a second thought, running after him. Yet for some reason Jongin hesitated by your side, noticing your slight wince and how you clutched your head, exhaling a steadying breath. “He’s just worried, you didn’t need to yell at him like that.”

That wasn’t yelling, you thought. But you didn’t voice your thoughts and said instead, “Regardless of what you guys tell me, I don’t recall ever being in any type of relationship with that jackass. I’ll be fine getting home by myself, I’m not a little kid.”

His expressions changed many times during your speech, and he seemed like he wanted to something but chose not to, opting with, “Just text us when you get home and what the doctor says, we’ll be worried about you.”

Your brows furrowed at his words and followed slowly behind him towards the exit, nodding a bit in thanks as he held the door open and looked back a few times as he stood in the same spot, like he was making sure you got home all right without being overly pushy like Chanyeol was.

His words confused you, since when were you two so close?

Your mother greeted you from the kitchen and had audibly gasped in horror when she saw the giant bruise forming on your temple, questions of what happened and are you okay all jumbled into an incoherent stream as he ushered you right back outside, stopping to let the backpack fall from your shoulders to the doorway before sitting you in the passenger seat as she called your father on speaker, telling him you were going to the hospital and that she would give him more details when she could.

Since head injuries and head traumas were taken very seriously, you were taken in to get some tests done that were more meager than they were annoying. You had wanted to get into the doctor’s office earlier, but now all you wanted to do was go to sleep and forget this whole confusing and tiring day happened, relieved once they told you they weren’t going to keep you awake, certain you didn’t have a concussion, but were puzzled at the fact you lost memories of only thing; or person, chalking it up to temporary amnesia.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, okay?” The handsome doctor Mr. Jung told you as he laid a reassuring hand on your shoulder—and for some reason, you were reminded of how you shot down Chanyeol when he tried the same thing, that same pang of guilt hitting you right in the chest. “You’re an intelligent young lady, I know this must be driving you insane, and it might feel as if you’re actually going insane.” The two of you share a small laugh and you nod, wondering if he could read minds as well.

“Just remember to rest and to not push yourself to remember too hard. Take part in hobbies you enjoy or take a nice walk outside. If you experience any pain, feel free to come back for another check up to make sure everything is doing fine. Okay? Okay, I’ll see you no sooner than two weeks I hope. Feel better!”

Did you really have amnesia? It would make sense to trust your doctors words, even your mother was surprise you didn’t ‘remember’ your relationship with Chanyeol, apparently the two of you had been dating for around six months.

You about spit out and choked on the water she had you sipping on after the two of you had gotten home a good almost three hours later, well into the night and your father was out at the store getting the prescribed painkillers your doctor had prescribed you. She even told you he had called her in a panic while you were getting your tests done, begging for an update, and she told him that you were fine but that it was maybe best if he stayed away for at least tonight.

But your mind was stuck on the six months part.

Six months? Surely your mother wouldn’t lie to you, so then it must be true, no matter how much something inside you told you it wasn’t. You opened your mouth to ask her some questions when there was loud pounding on the front door before the person remembered they had a key and let themselves in.

Junmyeon came barreling in, eyes locking with yours and immediately sprinted in your direction, hands coming to grasp your shoulders as he looked you over with wide eyes. “Are you okay? You remember me, right? There’s no way you’d forget about me... right?”

“Of course I remember you, you dummy. And I’m fine... mostly. Just here icing my bruise.” You took his hands off your shoulders and motioned towards the ice pack sitting on the kitchen counter.

“You’re not fine, you have amnesia.” Junmyeon told you and you rolled your eyes, but stiffened when he said, “Chanyeol called me earlier.”

Suddenly becoming very aware of your mothers presence, you tilted your head in the direction of your room, smiling tightly to her as she gazed encouragingly back at you.

“Chanyeol called me about an hour after school ended, saying he hit you in the head with a soccer ball and that you couldn’t remember him or something like that, I don’t know, he was freaking about it I couldn’t really understand him all that well on the phone, saying that you two weren’t speaking at the moment and asked how you were doing, I just updated him vaguely about five minutes ago thanks from the details I got from your mom. She already gave him an update at the hospital, but I guess he just wanted to be sure. He told me he’s called you like twenty times and you haven’t answered.” He tells you, eyeing you as you pat your back pocket at the remembrance of your phone in your back pocket, taking a seat at the edge of your bed as you followed his actions.

“Which I guess makes sense since you don’t really remember him, but you could at least text the poor man back and tell him your doctors visit went fine and you’re home safe. You might think you’re strangers, but he really loves you.”

Your brows furrowed with his lecture, ignoring his last five words and played with your phone, sighing as you stared at the picture of Chanyeol as your wallpaper. “I don’t know the passcode, I think he changed it while I was knocked out.” You mumbled quietly into your chest as you refused to look at him.

His hand swipes it from your grasp and you watch as he types on your phone, not expecting him to be able to decipher whatever random code Chanyeol must have put to have your mouth hang wide open in shock as he hands it to you once again, your home screen in full view.

“What the hell? How did you know what it was?”

“He didn’t change it, you created this passcode. It’s his birthday.” He said simply.

“Chanyeol’s birthday?” You placed your phone back in his hands to re-enter the passcode so you could change it to something you would actually remember, opting to change your annoying wallpaper later.

“Yep.”

“I’m really dating him?” You had to clarify, even though you’ve been told you were by literally everyone, letting your phone drop onto the bed in your lap, questioning if you were really the type of person to put in your partners birthday as a passcode, please—you so hoped that wasn’t you.

“Yep.”

You groaned. “Why? Do you not remember how mean he was to me?”

“What?”

“Oh come on, those snarky comments he’d always say to me in the halls? That was not flirting, I don’t care what you say.”

“What are you talking about?” Junmyeon’s face was scrunched up in confusion at your words, and your face scrunched up at his words and were about to clarify, when he continued. “Y/n, I think you’re remembering things differently, or else you had a weird dream yesterday that’s got you confused after your accident, but Chanyeol has never said anything even remotely mean to you. He’s basically been in love with you since you two met earlier this year.”

“What?” Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Okay, let me fill you in a bit since you can’t remember for yourself how the two of you started dating.” You narrowed your eyes at him as he shuffled closer a bit, looking like the epitome of seriousness as he stared at you, then awkwardly avoided eye contact as he began to fill you in on your lost memories.

“Let me see,” he murmured with pursed lips as he thought about where to start, a slight furrow to his brow as he began, “Um, you two shared a few classes together last semester, I think—yeah, you did. Because I remember you rambling to me about this ‘cute guy’ that you shared classes with.”

You strangely did remember that, but you had thought it was only that one class, with Ms. Lee? But along with that memory, came the onslaught of his comments that would continue for the next months that angered as well as embarrassed you, so something was not adding up.

“Wait—“ you held a hand up to pause him, squinting your eyes at him. “I know, we literally had this conversation earlier today.”

Junmyeon’s brows furrowed as he blinked at you, eyes narrowing as he studied you a bit more closely. “Y/n, we’ve barely talked at all today, and it certainly wasn’t about you and Chanyeol. I was busy tutoring, remember? Oh right—” he paused to giggle at his own joke, “the amnesia.”

You in turn did not find his mediocre attempt at a joke amusing and you noted internally that today was in fact Thursday, one of the two days of the week he tutored for some extra cash, his words seeming like they should make sense or strike a chord with your messed up memory, but you couldn’t shake this—weird—feeling.

But Junmyeon continued on without seeing your turmoil. “Then maybe a few weeks after classes had begun, he approached me out of the blue and outright asked me if we were dating.” He started laughing at the admission and your eyes narrowed as you experienced a bit of deja vu—certain you had a conversation of this manor before.

“And I told him there was no way in hell that would happen,” he paused to gauge your reaction and you scowled at him to which he sent you an over dramatic finger heart. “Sorry, you know I love you, but you’re not my type.”

“You’re not my type, either. Every time I look at you I still see naked Junmyeon from the seventh grade.” You retorted and shivered in response to the image you conjured up with your spoken words and giggled when he jumped back.

“Yah! You should’ve known to knock by then, especially if I told you I was getting ready to shower.”

“Who doesn’t lock the door when they’re about to shower?” You smiled as you spied the barest hint of pink gracing his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Whatever. We’re not getting into this right now.” He glared at you, seemingly blaming you for getting off track and you shrugged and he cleared his throat and continued. “Where was I? Oh yeah, and he seemed really relieved and said thanks and left. Then you told me that you gave him your number a few days later and the rest is history.”

You blinked at his triumphant expression, wondering why he was acting like he did this big thing, when all he really filled you in on was something you could’ve gotten from almost anybody. “You told me nothing.” Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at him and eyed the phone in your lap silently.

He shrugged from his spot across from you. “You guys like each other—no, I’m pretty sure you guys are crazy in love with each other. I don’t really know much about anything else about your relationship details, other than you guys deserve to go jail from the amount of cutesy shit you pull out in public.”

It was unsettling to have him talk about you about events that you didn’t remember and decided to distract yourself with the phone that seemed so foreign and held it in your hands.

Your eyes grew wide at the number of calls and texts you received, your lock screen keeping your messages and caller ID’s hidden and you typed in your new passcode, studying the picture on your home screen you were registering for the first time, unlike the first time when you were so fixated on changing your passcode.

Again, it was Chanyeol, but it also had you in it. The two of you looked like to be in front of a building that you didn’t recognize, wearing casual street style clothing and had your arms around each other, cheesy wide smiles on your faces as you looked at the camera.

Seeing a picture with you in it, yet having no recollection made your skin crawl a bit and wondered if you could find anymore.

You grow silent as you somehow find yourself clicking on your gallery, scrolling through what seemed like hundreds upon hundreds of pictures of you and Chanyeol. Varying locations and all different types of photos greeted your vision; ones where you two smiled at each other, faux seriousness, ones where the two of you gave each other piggyback rides, ones at the movies, the arcade, the fair, wrapped up in each others embrace, there was even one where you had your arms around him after what seemed like a pretty intense soccer match, his hair matted to his forehead with most probably was sweat.

It was definitely you in the pictures you were staring at, but it seemed like a completely different person. This person on the screen looked so happy, so content, so carefree. That wasn’t you. Your gaze shifted to Chanyeol on the screen, always by your side, with his arms wrapped securely around you. Were you the one that put that wide smile on his face? So many memories shown, but you couldn’t account for any of them.

“Look don’t worry about it too much, okay? It sucks that you got hit in the head with a soccer ball and that you got amnesia from it,” he starts to chuckle in between words and tries to calm himself once he sees just how not impressed you are with his amusement. Clearing his throat, he tries again, “But you were really happy with Chanyeol, you were always telling me that he was the love of your life and that you were going to marry him one day, it was really disgusting.” A small smile came onto his lips at his words, seemingly reminiscing in the past.

“And you don’t have to jump back in if you don’t want, okay? Just... Just text him, at least. Tell him that you’re okay, he’s really worried and I had to convince him at least a dozen times to not stalk your house. I know that hearing you’re okay from you will really help calm him.”

Remembering all the missed calls and messages you had waiting for you, your eyes widened at the majority being from Chanyeol, some from Yerim and Kyungsoo, and weirdly, Sehun and Jongin.

Eyes furrowing at the name you had Chanyeol saved under, you began reading through his numerous texts.

Chan❤️

[3:40 PM] i’m so sorry y/n i shouldn’t have left you to go home all by yourself, even if jongin did it on my behalf. I just felt so guilty and upset at the way you were reacting to me

[3:43 PM] saying that we weren’t dating and that you didn’t like me, and refusing my help like i was a stranger

[3:46 PM] and you looked so scared and confused, i’m so sorry again, it really was an accident i would never hurt you on purpose, you know that, right?

[3:47 PM] I love you so much, please be okay

[3:55 PM] Just please answer your phone or answer my texts so i know you’re okay

[4:05 PM] I called Junmyeon and he said he didn’t know anything about you going to the hospital???

[4:00 PM] Please tell me someone took you

[4:00 PM] Your mom filled me in a bit, saying it’d be best if I stayed away so I wouldn’t stress you out more.

[4:01 PM] Which is smart.

[4:02 PM] The last thing I want is to stress you out even more

[4:03 PM] Which means I should probably stop sending all these messages.

[4:05 PM] Remember to get lots of rest and stay hydrated and to get plenty of protein and nutrients, okay?

[5:30 PM] If you could, please just let me know that you’re doing okay. Please.

Your lips quirk up a bit at the absurdity of everything and nodded to appease your friend, thinking that it might be the least you could do.

Chanyeol did seem genuinely concerned, after all.

Seeing you nod seemed to please him and he patted your shoulder twice before standing up, telling you that he’d better go home and tell his parents and Jooyeon that you were fine.

“Jooyeon?”

“My younger sister?”

“Oh, of course.” You shook your head and he laughed at your silly question and told you to get some rest and he’d text you tomorrow, you had the Friday off as orders from the doctor so you had a long weekend to look forward to.

But you couldn’t help but frown as he closed the door softly behind him, hearing him say goodbye to your mother before he left your house.

You could’ve sworn he had an older brother, not a younger sister.

tag list: @rashidamesrur @totallynerdstuff @organic-hemp @etaerealboy @yasmini24 @imlonelysometimeshappy @rpavlxk

this was so much fun to write, i didn’t expect this story to be as long as its turning out but im happy w it nonetheless! didn’t want this to be a monster lol so i am splitting it into 3 parts!!!and i hope you all like it! as always i love feedback so pls show this some love <33 if you’d like to be added to the taglist just say so down in the comments or shoot me a dm!

#exo #exo au #exo angst #exo au scenarios #exo chanyeol #exo fic #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo fluff #exo park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo scenario #exo x reader #exo x you #park chanyeol #chanyeol #pcy #exo pcy

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.14 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Hey, Stretch might hate to see Edge leaving, but he sure does love to watch him walk away.

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Read ‘All In The Jeans’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch let Edge lead him outside, towards the winding front walkway. But instead of heading down the stone path to where Stretch’s bike was sitting there like a steampunk nightmare invading their gingerbread fairytale, he drew Stretch down to sit on the front steps of the porch. The bricks were soothingly cool beneath him in the waning heat of the day and Edge sat next to him, his knee bumping lightly against Stretch’s.

“You don’t have to rush off just yet,” Edge told him quietly. “There’s still some time before sunset.” He still had a hold on Stretch’s hand and a bony thumb rubbed gently across the backs of his knuckles. “But you looked like you needed some air.”

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, numbly. He stared down at yard in front of him, the riotously colorful flowerbeds amidst rocky outcroppings that led their way up the little hill to the house. It was a little cooler here in the woods out of the stark sun overhead in town, closer to another season than summer or so it felt to him. It was all so inviting, welcoming, and his first thought upon seeing it that this was a trap of some sort seemed a little insulting now that he’d been fed and released. He’d eaten Red’s food, hell, moved right into his home without a qualm, and a well-kept cabin in the woods was where he drew the line?

But then, it wasn’t the house where the real problems lay, was it, it was the people living in it.

Monsters and a Human from another multiverse, again, and not just any Monsters, but another set of mirror images here in the Aboveground. He’d been worried about a Stephen King effect around this place and it turned out he should’ve been more concerned with Isaac Asimov, ‘cause the shift from gothic horror to sci-fi was not one he’d been braced for, with a ‘little invasion of the body snatchers’ vibe tossed in for extra flavor.

Only, that wasn’t fair, was it. Doppelgängers, Edge had mentioned earlier almost like it was a joke, but it was true, just like Sans and Papyrus were and he’d adjusted to them okay. It hadn’t been easy hanging out with someone who wore his brother’s face, but he’d adjusted. And despite the somewhat otherworldly location, these guys had been nothing but kind to Stretch, kinder than the Humans who’d greeted them when they’d popped out from the mountain, for sure.

Hell, Red took him in like a mama dog adopting a stray kitten. The glossy veneer of Stretch’s knowledge-dump panic was cracking and with it his weird sense of numbness, the void it left behind filling with dawning horror.

They were the only three who got out, Frisk said, they’d lost everything and everyone, and fled all the way here, and Stretch was the one about to have a panic attack about it. Exactly what kind of asshole was he trying to be here?

When Sans and Papyrus showed up under similar circumstances, he and Blue opened their lives and homes to them, all tea and sympathy. Well, mostly the tea was from Blue, but still. He was out here in Backwater crying in his soup over a breakup and he couldn’t even dredge up some compassion for versions 2.0?

“i’m sorry,” Stretch blurted thoughtlessly. He turned his hand in Edge’s, shifting to grip his slender fingers tightly. Bare bones against bare bones, weirdly intimate for all that they were only holding hands. He didn’t think he’d ever touched another skeleton like this except his own brother, back when he was little and Stretch was still trying to keep him from running off after every other damn shiny thing he ever saw.

Holding Edge’s hand was a lot different than trying to hang on to his squirmy wormy little brother. Edge only held on just as tight, his brow bone furrowing. “You don’t need to apologize, it’s a lot to take in. You’re honestly taking this all much better than I expected. Theorizing about a multiverse is a great deal different than being confronted with living specimens.”

“no, not that. i get that. i mean—i’m sorry.” Stretch waved his free hand around them vaguely, trying to indicate the entire world with one helpless gesture, “for everything. it must’ve been rough.”

Yeah, nice to see that Stretch’s gift for understatement hadn’t been affected by his personal traumas. Rough was a really great way of describing being the only survivors of their entire world. Next, he’d describe water as slightly damp, maybe fire could be ‘a little burny’.

Edge’s expression cleared, a certain tightness forming around his sockets. “Ah.” He looked away, eye lights rising to the sky where scattered pools of blue showed through the leafy branches. His eye lights were the orangey-red glow of a banked campfire, the crack running through his left socket lent him a sort of strangely thoughtful look. “It’s all right, it was a long time ago for us.”

“about ten years, right?” Stretch winced inwardly, yeah, sure, keep on talking about his painful past, that was a great payback for a yummy dinner. “i mean, that’s what i got from the book you gave me.”

“Yes,” Edge agreed. He didn’t seem to mind talking about it, maybe time really did pad on the emotional distance; Stretch’d have to check back on his own history in a couple years, give his memories a poke and see what bruises came back. “A third of my lifetime.”

Huh. If the math was right, that actually put Edge as a little older than him, who would’ve thunk it, the little brother mythos tipped on its axis, just for him.

Edge slanted a considering glance his way. “We knew other Monsters came to the surface. I kept tabs on the news from the world outside Backwater, just in case—” he hesitated and whatever awful scenario he was thinking about got lost in a shrug. “Well. Just in case. We saw you and your brother on the news with the other Human, and realized you were from a different Underground. They referred to you as Papyrus and Sans then and before you ask, we’d already changed our names before you came to the surface. When we came to this town, actually, and if you ask me why, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Sometimes in Backwater, certain things simply make sense. One day, everyone started calling me Edge and that’s who I’ve been since.”

He stretched his long legs out in front of him, his slim, bare feet next to Stretch’s grubby sneakers. Edge’d changed out of his grimy gardening clothes before dinner into a fresh t-shirt, still only plain black but the way it clung to his ribcage and along the line of his broad shoulders was worth a second look. His jeans, too, and Stretch was hyper aware of his own baggie shorts and t-shirt that declared he was the taco king of Minnesota, of the differences between them.

“so you already knew about me,” Stretch said, “i mean, before i got here.” There was an unfair advantage if he’d ever heard one.

“In the abstract, yes,” Edge shrugged. “It didn’t seem very important until you showed up in my brother’s living room and tried to hit me with a lamp.”

Fair. Stretch looked back at their feet, at the visibly healed cracks in Edge’s metatarsals, nothing at all like his own undamaged bones. He understood the multiverse theory, wasn’t exactly that complicated. In theory, he and Edge were different version of the same person, each another facet to a complex jewel; that was the theory, anyway. After hanging out with Sans and Papyrus, Stretch had a few theories of his own and the most important one was one he wanted to be sure Edge understood.

“you aren’t really me, you know that, right? not me me.” It seemed important to him that Edge knew that or maybe Stretch had it backwards, maybe it should be that he wasn’t Edge, since Edge was here first by several years. He sort of had dibs, didn’t he.

For some reason, that statement made one corner of Edge’s mouth curled up in a smirk. “That seems rather obvious,” Edge said dryly. “For one, as fascinating as you seem to find my jeans, you wouldn’t fit in them very well.”

“no!” Stretch sputtered, holy shit, abort, abort, do not look at his hips right now, do not do it, “i mean in the context of the multiverse! like how chara and frisk are alike, right? they look alike, but believe you me, chara ain’t like frisk. you and me, we might’ve had the same names once, but we aren’t the same, not really.”

“Chara and Frisk have some ten years of distance between their ages that might account for that,” Edge pointed out, “but I’m no scientist, not even on the weekends. It isn’t me you should be discussing this with.”

Then who…? “i’ve got some data to back it up, i’ve met someone else from another multiverse, you know. two someones, other versions of…well…us.”

Well, now, looked like it was Edge’s turn for a shock, how about that, nice to see it on someone else’s face for a change. “You have?”

“yeah. another set of Sans-and-Papyrus skeleton brothers ended up with us before we ever got the surface. they wanted to stay out of the news and the queen let ‘em.” Stretch shrugged, “i don’t know all their story, they don’t like to talk about it. but it’s been a couple years since they showed up and we definitely aren’t very similar past being skeletons and having brothers.” For one, Blue might not cook as well as Edge, but at least his spaghetti never landed anyone in the hospital with acute food poisoning like some other skeletons who would not be named coughpapyruscough.

But Edge didn’t seem interested in another set of skeleton brothers to add to the collection, not even in the interest of making a full six-pack. He’d shifted to his knees and faced Stretch, his sockets wide, “There’s another Human that fell, then? Into their Underground?” Edge asked, urgently.

“probably, but not that came with them,” Stretch shook his head, “i. uh. i get the feeling their story is a little like yours, only more so and a lot more recent.”

That urgency faded. “Ah.” Edge settled back to sit on the step again. “I see.”

Stretch didn’t ask why Edge was so interested in there being another Human kid, that was a surefire way to wander off the path, but he made a mental note about it. “what i’m getting at is, you knew who i was when you first saw me. what i was.”

“I’m hardly going to mistake the framework of my own face.”

Yeah, see, that was another mark in the column of the differences between the ‘verses not simply being nature vs nurture, but them being different people entirely despite the whole names-and-also-skeleton thing, ‘cause Stretch had been looking at his own face in the mirror for a long damn time and he didn’t look like Edge, fuck no, he’d be the first person to know if he was that gorgeous.

Probably better not to bring that up. “and you guys have been here on the surface for ten years now, taking care of the town, and you never tried to contact anyone?”

Edge only shrugged. “What was the point? It isn’t as if we actually knew any of you. I expected that more Monsters would find us eventually and you did.”

“yeah, by accident.”

Edge slanted him another look, coolly raising a browbone, “You’ve been in Backwater a little while now. Do you truly believe you’re here completely by accident?”

Yeah, okay, that was a pretty good point. “but if you were expecting other monsters to show up eventually, then why didn’t you want me to stay?”

“Maybe because my brother was very quick to adopt a person who is wearing something like my face?” That stung and Stretch looked away, his fingers going helplessly stiff in their shared grip. “Or maybe because the longer you stay, the less likely you’ll be able to leave,” Edge sighed. “That’s how Backwater is.”

“wait.” Hold on, back that up. “you can’t leave?”

“I didn’t say that.” Yeah, and that was a backpedal if Stretch ever heard one. “Frisk has willingly tied their life to this town, and I’m sworn to protect them. I can hardly do that from another city.”

“but nothing is physically stopping you from leaving.” Because if the corn was gonna sprout little legs and come after him if he drank the water here too long, that would be important information to have.

“Where would I go?” Edge countered. “Back to Ebott? Unlike my brother and I, you have ties there. We do not and I’ve very little interest in revisiting the mountain ten years away from it. I have everything I’ve ever needed right here and as for wants, I’ve long since accepted the truth.”

There was a certain bitterness there and Stretch should let it go, he’d already poked that wound enough. He should, but he still ended up asking, softly, “what truth?”

“That sometimes people don’t get what’s coming to them.” The words were so loaded that Stretch winced and hunched down, almost expecting to hear a gunshot. Instead, Edge sighed, let his anger go on an exhaled breath and he sounded calmer as he asked, “Now you’ve heard my secrets. What about you?”

“me?” Stretch snorted. He kept his gaze on the flowerbeds, tracing the flat round stones of the path, and did not meet Edge’s crimson gaze. “heh, you guys are determined to ferret something out, aren’t you. i keep telling you, i don’t have any secrets. my boyfriend dumped me, and it brought me down, couldn’t get past it, so i left town. ended up here…i should be writing this down, it’s like the start of a country song. shame i don’t have a truck.”

“You’d look terrible in a cowboy hat. And your soul?” Edge asked, gentle but implacable.

“that’s not a secret,” Stretch muttered, “i just don’t want to talk about it.” He’d talked about it plenty back in Ebott, for all the good it did him, and he’d hoped to leave those chats behind when he got on the bus.

“Fair enough,” Edge tugged on his hand suddenly, pulling Stretch to his feet, “Come on.”

He barely gave Stretch a minute to catch his balance before he started to run, heedless of his bare feet as Stretch stumbling on after him. His brief, absurd surge of fear that they were, ‘oh, fuck, running from something,’ faded as Edge laughed aloud, pulling him past trees and through flowerbeds, around the corner of the house into the backyard again. Off to the side of the garden beneath a large tree was a massive pile of fallen leaves in a messy sprawl of browns and golds, and Stretch only realized what Edge intended when it was too late to stop him, barely stuttering out a “wait--!” before he leapt and yanked Stretch along with him.

They landed together in a cacophony of brittle crunching and the blinding, whispering surge of leaves launching into the air. Stretch sputtered and flailed, wallowing in the pile that was somehow soft and weirdly crisp at the same time, billowing around him as he floundered.

Somehow, he managed to find out which way was upright again and burst out on the surface, swimming through leaves, and through the madness, he could hear Edge laughing, that deep, rich voice sharing out happiness. For the first time in what felt like an endless dry spell, his soul felt like it was full, joy pouring into it, filling up the empty space in his chest.

“you’re crazy,” Stretch laughed, spitting out a leaf, and watched as Edge flopped back in the leaves, arms and legs moving and sending up another wild swirl of crunchy browns and golds.

“Perhaps,” Edge called, raising his voice over the cronch. “But I made you smile.”

“the technique could use work, but i can’t argue with the results.” He looked up and for the first time, Stretch noticed that not all the trees here were loaded with green. His grin slowly faded. “the leaves are falling.”

“Yes,” Edge’s smile eased down, understanding dawning, and he shuffled through the leaves to Stretch, reaching for him, “It’s a late summer heat right now, but yes. The corn is ripe, autumn is coming and soon.”

Autumn was coming, too fast, and there was nothing Stretch could do to stop it, but that didn’t mean he had to let it go. He was a little sick of letting things just happen around him and Backwater was getting him into the habit of doing something about it. “i want to see edgar allen again. you think if i went back to the field, the corn would give me a pass?”

“I think that a visit can be arranged without that being an issue.” Between the two of them, they managed to wade out of the pile onto solid ground, both of them shedding leaves as Edge headed back into the garden. He skirted the wall of sunflowers, leading Stretch deeper into the rows. Right into a small patch of corn, the tips of the leaves already yellowed and curling.

Stretch stopped abruptly, his sneakers sinking into the soft soil as he stared, “is that…?” In the middle of the little field there was a scarecrow hanging from a crossbar. It looked exactly like Edgar Allen, from the greasepaint face down to the plaid shirt, only now, there was a scarf looped around his neck, the very same one Stretch left in offering.

“It is,” Edge agreed softly. “He is every scarecrow. They awaken when needed or summoned.” He gave Stretch a nudge, hard enough for him to stumble forward a step deeper into the field. “Talk to him. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Talk to him. Right. Stretch swallowed hard, trying to shuffle aside his sudden misgivings. His voice creaked like a rusty hinge as he managed a weak, “edgar?

Then he watched, fascinated. He could nearly see the life filling those limp limbs, the burlap sack of his head lifting as he raised it, and he knew the exact moment Edgar caught sight of Stretch in front of him.

“Well, hey pal! Good ta see ya!” That croaky voice was the same as Stretch remembered and he smiled helplessly, watching Edgar unwind an arm from the bar that held him up to touch the bandana around his neck, “Wanted ta thank ya for the new gear!”

“it looks good on you,” Stretch managed. The turkey-red fabric was bright against the faded plaid of his shirt and Stretch wondered how long it would take for the sun to bleach it out. Would there even be time before Edgar…ended? Did his clothes vanish with him or was he left out in the field to rot after his seasonal duty? He didn’t know and found he didn’t want to ask. For fuck’s sake, Stretch barely even knew the guy, if he was a guy, and still his soul heavy with sorrow.

“Corn thought so, too,” Edgar Allen said gleefully. “Nattered on ‘bout it for hours. Kept me awake for an age, I tell ya.” For all that his face never changed from that greasepaint sneer, Stretch could almost feel the sudden surge of sleepiness rising in the air, the way Edgar took hold of his support again, and slumped back down, “Still restin’ up from it. Thanks, again. See ya around, pal, give me a call if ya need me?”

“i will,” Stretch said and as he watched, that animation faded, life seeping away and leaving behind a nothing but straw-filled bundle of clothes.

A gentle hand settled on his shoulder and Stretch turned to look at Edge, trying to swallow down the thickness of absurd grief in his throat. He’d met Edgar Allen for a total of ten minutes, tops, and it still hurt.

“It’s difficult for him to stay awake when he isn’t needed,” Edge told him softly.

“yeah,” Stretch managed, blinking hard, his sockets aching. “he’ll be dying in a few weeks.”

“Yes, for the season,” Edge agreed, “It’s not really a death, but it is something like it.”

“that sucks, big time.” He understood it, sure, the whole ghost of gyftmas present sort of visit. Didn’t make it suck any less.

“He’s earned his rest and his spirit will return. Perhaps in the spring you can came back to Backwater and meet his recreation.” Edge held out a hand and after swiping angrily at his sockets, Stretch took it, folding their fingers together again. “Come on, it’s starting to get dark.”

It was, Stretch saw dismally, the sunlight creeping through the trees faded and soft with oncoming dusk. He’d already been here a helluva lot longer than he’d meant and it might be an interesting trip back to Red’s if he didn’t hurry; he’d be wandering off the path simply because he couldn’t see the damn thing and he really didn’t feel up to testing the monster bear theory, not today.

The two of them hurried their way back around front. He’d left his bike on the side of the driveway and before Stretch could reach it, the hand in his that had been faithfully leading him all afternoon betrayed him. Suddenly, Stretch found himself yanked around, a tree trunk hard beneath his back.

He looked up with wide sockets and all he could see Edge looming in front of him, stark crimson eye lights boring into his own and arms braced against the tree on either side of him. They weren’t touching, not quite, but he was close, so close Stretch could feel the warmth pouring off of him and it was ridiculous that it made him shiver in the waning heat of the day, an uneasy trill tickling its way up his spine. Something that was not fear was swelling inside him, not fear at all.

“What is it about you?” Edge said abruptly. His eye lights were burning, bright coals in his dark, narrowed sockets.

“what do you—” Stretch started, too weak and a little lost.

He broke off on a confused sound as Edge leaned in suddenly, tried to jerk back but there was nowhere to go as Edge murmured close to Stretch’s audial canal, his breath damp, nearly as solid as a physical touch, “If you think I haven’t noticed your attraction to me, you may wish to redefine the word subtle.”

“uhhhh.” Not that it wasn’t true but getting called out on it right now was a little unexpected, hell, he hadn’t even been looking at Edge’s ass this time. Any reasonable answer slipped away from his fumbling reach. “that’s…i mean…”

“It’s not that you’re unappealing, but as you’ve said several times, you’re getting over a breakup.” A gentle thumb slid along his cheekbone in defiance of what Edge was saying, making Stretch suck in a sharp gasp of breath.

‘Not unappealing.’ Wasn’t exactly a glowing endorsement but eh, reviews didn’t always match the product.

“yeah,” Stretch said inanely. “yeah, i am.” As if that meant anything, as if he could even think of anything outside this singular moment. Edge was so close to him, the lines of their bodies separated by bare inches as Stretch breathed out a faint, “sorry.”

He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for.

“I’m not. You aren’t alone in this,” Edge exhaled a soft half-laugh. “I’ve felt an attraction to you since the moment you tried to hit me with that damn lamp. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“yeah, uh,” Stretch swallowed hard, trying to add some starch to his voice, but it was so damned hard (fuck, don’t think that, don’t, shuffle that pun right to the end of the queue). Edge was so close, and the bark of the tree was rough through the back of his t-shirt, lighting digging into his ribcage like a goad, urging him to move, to step forward, to complete that circuit. Stretch didn’t move. “i mean, the way the multiverse theory goes, i’m sort of you. or you’re me. something like that.”

A low chuckle filled the air between them and Stretch closed his sockets, holy fuck, that voice rumbled through him like a miniature earthquake, “That isn’t what I meant at all. You don’t want to talk about your past and that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean the effects don’t linger.” The very tip of Edge’s nasal nodule brushed the side of Stretch’s skull as he sniffed delicately, his warm breath gusting.

Slim fingertips came to rest on his sternum over his damage soul and that single light touch affected him more than the entire groping session in the library. “I can smell your pain, such a deep hurt in your soul. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“edge,” Stretch whispered, closed his sockets against the answering whisper of his own name. There was the slightest pressure of a knee against his own and the temptation was there to spread his legs, to give it a place to rest, and he shouldn’t, they shouldn’t, but that warning voice was getting softer, distant, caught by a shepherd’s hook and hauled off the stage. He’d gone through half a dozen shocks since he woke up this morning, added them to the pile he'd gotten since he’d stepped off that bus. What was one more?

“I know all of that. I know it. So why am I so drawn to you?” Edge murmured distractedly, “What is it about you? Why can’t I leave you alone?” He reeled back, shaking his head as if to clear it, then, nearly pleading, “Don’t let me hurt you.”

A warning, a plea tangled together as one, and Stretch lurched after him, arms reaching with purely reckless intent, “you won’t, you aren’t, don’t go—"

The sudden klaxon of a horn made them jerk apart, Edge stumbling back and putting space between them. Stretch looked up see a rusty old pickup truck making its bumpy way down the path, coming to a stop with a wheezy squeal of brakes.

They watched it together, Edge with tight annoyance creasing his face and Stretch with panting confusion, struggling to get his breathing under control. It turned out to be a hell of a lot easier when the window rolled down the window and Red poked his head out, like getting doused with a bucket of ice water as he called with deliberate cheer, “hey, you two.”

“Brother,” Edge said, the greeting coming from between clenched teeth.

“you have a car?” Stretch asked, outraged. Shame was taking a hasty backseat because holy shit, he’d spent all afternoon on that bike when Red already had a set of wheels?

Red only grinned, a slash of a smile with his golden tooth winking in the dwindling light. “nah, i got a truck.”

“you never said!”

“you never asked,” Red countered. “it was gettin’ late and i got worried. didn’t want ya trying to scooter your way home in the dark, ya didn’t add a headlight to that rustbucket. toss the bike in the back and hop in.”

It wasn’t a question and yeah, somehow, he didn’t think Red was gonna buy that he and Edge were only talking, not this time.

Stretch felt a guilty flush heat his cheekbones, meekly obeying. It was for the best, he told himself, holy shit, yes, he should be grateful that Red showed up when he did, no matter what kind of protest his crotch was currently bleating up at him. The last thing he needed right now was any other attachments and not only because he felt like getting into another relationship right around never, (yeah, never worked for him) and rebound sex with the boss’s little brother was supposed to be off the table.

Getting into anything past friendship with Edge was a Bad Idea all the way around, ‘cause when it came down to it, Edgar Allen wasn’t the only person leaving, now was he. Stretch didn’t want to think about it, kept trying to avoid it, but the knowledge still came up in the back of his head, readying itself to bite him in the ass.

Eventually, Stretch was gonna have to find his own way home.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater

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aespawpaq · 3 years

Text

Netflix and Chill (3)

IMAX and CLIMAX

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

His mom was going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it was.

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

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

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today… well.

You were playing a different game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get off of me.”

——

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

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skinks · 4 years

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I had a REALLY intense beatles phase in my late teens and i had the hots for paul mccartney and one time i found this story where this woman said she met paul at a party in 65 and he took her home and they talked until the sun came up and then he got a call telling him to come to the studio and he started to say he had to leave and she was like "not before you fuck me" and he laughed and then he DID and he left her alone in his house after and she stole his underwear (1/2)

(which she kept for decades until her husband threw them into their muddy front yard one day in a fit of jealousy) and a teapot and it always made me absolutely FERAL with jealous horny rage and like?? just this incredulous feeling of How On Earth Did That Really Happen and anyway bill hader’s dumpster mattress one night stand story is my new version of that (2/2)

The fucking journey this just took me on, holy shit. Did she at least get to keep the teapot?

I love that you had an intense teenage horny phase for a Beatle, I had one for Bob Dylan and I remember watching one of his electric era tour documentaries and being HORRIBLY jealous of the 60s girls hanging around outside his hotel... anyway that’s besides the point

I UNDERSTAND!!!!! THE MATTRESS STORY HAUNTS ME.... Bhader knows what he’s doing, he can try to couch it in as much self-deprecating oh-I’m-just-an-awkward-nerd fronting as he likes but he KNOWS what he’s doing and that woman knew it too. You ever notice how it’s the most competent ones who don’t feel the need to loudly prove themselves by being anything other than humble?? What did he SAY in that club! “It was going well,” he says, what does that MEAN, BILL, what did he fuckjfdkjcnnfkcning do that convinced this woman to leave the club, go to her place, lift a bed onto a car, go to HIS place and move furniture when she was literally moving to a new city the next day all so sHE COULD FUCK HIMMMM HOW IS HIS GAME THAT GOOD I FEEL LIKE A CHARACTER IN AN EDGAR ALLEN POE STORY BEING SLOWLY DRIVEN MAD BY THIS UNANSWERED MYSTERY

Ok sorry, I’m back. This is making me want to read a fic where (before they get together) Eddie watches an old interview of Richie telling the mattress story and he’s a seething ball of jealousy too. Then Richie comes out, he and Eddie sort their shit and get together, and one day Eddie laughingly comments that he had no reason to be jealous after all since Richie was obviously making the story up.

Richie looks at him weirdly. “I didn’t make up—that story did actually happen, Eds, I only changed it so people thought I went home with a chick.”

They are lying in bed. Eddie’s eye starts twitching. “Pardon?”

“Yeah?” Richie stretches, draping his right arm over his own head to scratch his left ear. Eddie will not be distracted by his chest right now, what the fuck. Richie squints at the ceiling. “I think his name was... Marco, or something. At least, that’s the name he gave to quote unquote Chris.”

“Marco, okay. Huh.”

“I wanted to be Lance or something cool, but my friend said I inhabited Chris better, I dunno. I didn’t even tell him why I needed a fake name, he was just like, big into method.”

“Yeah, mhmm.” Eddie sits up, nodding. He can’t stop nodding. His head feels like a champagne cork fizzing at the top of his spine. “So you, you uh—you were such a fucking player in your plaid and your baggy jeans that, that, that were the only things you even owned back then, Rich—don’t try to deny, it I’ve seen the pictures—that you convinced some guy who was moving town the next fucking day—”

Richie’s eyebrows shoot upwards. It makes his eyes look rounder, more delighted. “Convinced? Eddie—”

Eddie can’t stop, twisting the sheets in his hands til his knuckles go white. “Yes, convinced, you convinced him to go pick up some dirty mattress right off the street with a complete stranger even though you always make such a big deal about how awkward and nervous and repressed you were, you still, you still—”

“I was probably on molly or something at the time, man.” Richie’s beaming up at him. He pokes Eddie in the arm. Eddie feels how tense the muscle is, and fights to relax. “I’m kidding, at worst it was just a little tipsy driving. A little Wacky Races. Just call me Dick Bastardly.” Richie grins at his own dumbass joke, poking Eddie some more. “And it wasn’t just the mattress by the way, it was the whole bed. That’s a key detail. Headboard and everything.”

“The headboard?!” Eddie tries not to yell, but it comes out louder than he means to anyway. More of a shriek, embarrassingly. He lurches around in place to glare at their own flat bar of wood behind them. He holds onto that thing! It supports him, even when Richie’s fucking him into the wall!

Betrayal is neverending today, apparently. Eddie turns his glare onto Richie, who is laughing. “Stop laughing!”

“Your face,” Richie gasps. He covers his own face, then changes tack and yanks Eddie down over him to cackle into his flaming-hot throat. “What’s the problem! You’re acting like this is the same fucking bed, oh my god, you think I haven’t at least changed my mattress since I lived like a—like a Beavis and Butthead parody in Westwood, fifteen years ago?”

Eddie squirms miserably. Not even Richie’s broad nakedness against his can salvage this, he’s well and truly destroyed their sweet afterglow with his stupid overreaction. Feels like being fifteen again, ruining clubhouse hangouts with his snappy sulking as soon as Richie mentioned some girl at school. “No! No, obviously fucking not, just. I dunno.”

He doesn’t really deserve the gentle tease in Richie’s voice. “What don’t you know?”

“I don’t know!”

And that’s the part he hates most.

“Okay, okay. I think I do. Jesus, you’re actually jealous,” Richie breathes. He bites his lip, the way he does when he’s so happy about something he’s making a real effort not to talk over it. He’s still a little sweaty and pink from their Friday night activities, bedraggled hair and no glasses. The expression always scrunches his left eye into a full squint, something Eddie finds so helplessly appealing he can’t imagine what it’s like to watch that interview and not feel jealous.

Eddie grunts, shrugs as best he can under Richie’s heavy hug. Fucking Marco.

Richie’s hand is firm on the back of his neck. There’s pressure from his thumb at one point of Eddie’s jaw, the soft part between ear and bone that has him gulping open for Richie’s low murmur, “Eddie baby, don’t be jealous.” Their mouths meet and Eddie sighs into the slick warmth of it, feeling grateful and abashed and idiotic all at once.

They separate with a little snick of spit. Richie lids his eyes open just a touch, looking drowsy with affection. Eddie lowers his forehead to Richie’s shoulder and speaks to his collarbone. “I just—I hate it when you act like people are just doing you a favor for, for liking your shit or fucking going home with you when clearly it was—you’re fucking hot, Rich, and, and sexy when you’re not trying to be, and you were hot back then too, but you still act like it was a miracle anyone wanted to even touch you when I—I always would’ve picked the stupid dirty bed up off the street too. For you. And I wouldn’t’ve moved town the day after. So.”

Richie doesn’t speak for a moment. There is a cloud above their shared, clean bed, implicit with shared memory of all the times they dirtied each other’s sheets with grass stains and grubby feet, chip crumbs and even tears, just once, just before Eddie really did move town and forgot all the things he cared about so much more than he ever cared about getting sick.

He would never leave again though, is his point. Richie always seems to know what he means before Eddie does. He tries to think it loud enough, brings his hand up blindly to Richie’s face and strokes back his hair, not because Richie is a mind reader, but because he knows what it means that Eddie has never wanted to touch someone else like this.

Eddie’s spine then, curving under Richie’s knuckles like brushing a shiver along a set of wind chimes. His hand lands on Eddie’s tailbone, an X marks the spot that still throbs with loosened heat and pleasure from his orgasm. Lying on your front is bad for your posture.

I’m not lying on my front, Eddie thinks, with a little of the vicious defiance he doles out to that cloying voice sometimes, the one that tries to ruin quiet moments with its fretting. I’m lying on Richie’s. He’s good for my posture. He’s gonna snap my spine back into place and this time I’ll let him touch me.

Richie presses their temples together, small-voiced. “I guess... I find most of the flattery shit hard to believe. I didn’t like myself or the stuff I was making, so I’d automatically assume they were lying, y’know? If I agree it implies I believe them, which makes me feel like some giant, arrogant dick—don’t say it.” He pats Eddie on the ass. “But, on the other hand, if I think I’m somehow important enough for people to lie to, that’s kind of an arrogant dick move too.”

Eddie pushes up to eyeball him. “Even with sex? That’s so fucking dumb.”

This second ass-pat is harder, more of a stinging smack. Richie’s guarded look coils into a grin again at Eddie’s bared-teeth hiss. “I never said it wasn’t.”

“Well, I mean, what do you think it meant that fucking Marco—” Richie snorts at the projectile venom burning acidic holes through Eddie’s voice, “—was clearly willing to catch fleas or goddamn tetanus just to fuck you? What about me? You think I’m pretending it’s good just to encourage your weird, unnecessary inferiority thing? ”

“No, you’re right,” Richie laughs. His snorts have bubbled into full-blown giggles now as he squints down at the mess between their stomachs. “That’s pretty hard evidence you’re providing there, Eds.”

Getting harder too, rubbed up against the soft crease of Richie’s hip. Eddie can feel the lingering red throb of heat on his ass, like closing his eyes and still catching the gold-coin flash of the sun branded on the inside of his eyelids. Richie digs his blunt nails into the stung tenderness of his skin and gently pulls Eddie’s asscheeks open. He feels Richie’s quickened breathing against his wet mouth, and wonders how to ask for another spank in a way that isn’t gonna make him want to enter witness protection afterwards.

“I can’t believe you were jealous, you’re the last guy in the world who needs to be jealous,” Richie moans. Eddie feels the vibration of it on his tongue, now sucking on the knot of Richie’s adam’s apple. “Wait, can you really get tetanus from abandoned street beds?”

“Ugh!” Eddie bites him there and pulls off slowly, sucking so the stubbled skin of Richie’s strong throat is released from his mouth’s suction with a wet pop. Richie’s hips flex against him. “I almost wish this was the same fucking bed just so I had something to throw out into the yard!”

“O-ooh, how telenovela of you, I like it.”

Oh Christ, Eddie has to put some kinda stop to this before Richie starts speaking Spanish. He needs to last. He needs to beat Marco. “I’ll throw you out with it,” he says, too breathy and honest for anywhere else but here. “Trashmouth. Sweetheart.”

Richie’s face is flushed, eyes dark and desperate. He grips at Eddie’s ribs so hard Eddie feels them bending. “Dumpster diver.”

Eddie rolls his hips down, plants his palms on either side of Richie, shoves them under the pillows. He braces his elbows hard into Richie’s shoulders and grinds their sweaty foreheads together, but whatever aggression there is within him is softened by his catapulting heartbeat, harmonising with his own laughter. With Richie’s, always.

“Nah, ‘fraid the only thing left to remember that half-night stand with Marco is, well.” Richie looks down between them again, eyes almost crossed. “It’s me. My dick, more specifically.”

Eddie can feel as much. Another wave of possessiveness froths through him, crackling in the pockets of his joints, feels like cartoon steam whistling out his ears. “It better not be half-standing because it remembers anything about fucking Marco,” he snarls.

Richie raises his hands in a down boy gesture. It shifts his arms and shoulders in the way that sometimes makes Eddie wish he were a door, just so Richie could ram him open, and so he pins Richie’s wrists to the bed instead.

“Please don’t throw my dick out into the yard, babe,” Richie says.

“Gonna give you something to remember this fucking bed by,” Eddie says, and slides down Richie’s body to do just that.

#ficlet #hhfhchfjjf SORRY #this is why it takes me so long to answer asks 😭#im like 🤔 i’d love to see a fic about x 🤔🤔🤔 and then there’s a harp timeskip sound effect and i wake up to stuff like this

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goldenfawnwriting · 4 years

Text

Birds of a Feather- Hawks pic pt 3

Summary: Finch is the pro hero Hawks’ personal assistant. As they get closer in their relationship will romance blossom or be cut down by their jobs?

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF ASSAULT AND ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT

As Finch prepared for the night out she sighed. Work had become so complicated as she could feel herself developing a crush on her boss. Not only was he attractive, to say the least, he was charming, kind, and all out spoiling her for no reason. It was mildly suspicious but honestly she couldn’t help but love the attention. She just wondered if it would end in heartbreak, or even her out of a job.

She decided to wrap her hair up with the hair pin he got her, smiling to herself as she pushed it into her fawn brown locks. She had changed out of her work clothes and into something more suitable; a cute, black miniskirt, and a peacock green, silk blouse that collared around her throat, the small button at the back of her neck securing it. She contemplated for a moment on what shoes she would wear before deciding on her regular black work heels. They were plain enough to suffice. As she looked in the mirror she wondered if it was too much, the colors too bright. The blouse was one she had gotten as a gift, she couldn’t remember from who, but she didn’t wear it often. She was more for muted earth tones than flashy, vibrant hues. She felt comfortable blending in with the crowd.

She grabbed her small, cross-body bag as she left, locking her apartment door and pushing her phone and lipstick into her purse before getting to her car. The bar she was meeting Asami at was a little more popular than she was used to but she couldn’t help the thrill that sat deep in her stomach. She hadn’t had a fun night out in a while.

When she finally arrived and parked she looked around for her friend, finally spotting her leaned against the brick of the building, stunning as ever. Asami was her friend since they were in school, she had followed her to UA but unlike Asami, she didn’t become a pro hero. The best she was suited for was a sidekick, and honestly, she just wasn’t interested.

As she approached her friend she took in her appearance. Her short, dark blue hair swayed around her chin, her silver framed glasses pushed up on her nose. She smiled as she noted they were wearing the same style, black skirt, only Asami sported a tight, long sleeve grey shirt that she happened to recognize as a body suit she had previously borrowed. Her shoes were a cute suede bootie, grey in color with a bit of fringe on the zipper. She looked adorable.

“Kore! I haven’t seen you in forever! You look amazing!”

Finch laughed. they had seen each other two weeks ago. She embraced her friend momentarily.

“Asami, you look better than ever!”

She smiled as Asami lead her inside and to the bar, ordering them fruity cocktails. As they waited they caught up on each others jobs, Asami’s cat, and all the drama in the workplace. This is when Hawks came up.

“So I heard you got promoted to Hawks’ PA. How’s that going for you?”

“Really wonderfully actually. I can’t help but think he’s cute but besides that the works pretty easy, nothing amazing.”

Asami smiled and pinched her cheek.

“Ok, I have to ask, I know you didn’t buy that hair pin for yourself.”

Finch stuttered as she replied, unsure of wether she should tell her best friend. She took a sip of her cocktail before replying.

“Well, uh, he actually got it for me...”

Asami looked at her in surprise before giggling.

“He’s got the hots for you Kore!”

Finch rolled her eyes and waved her friend off.

“Doubt it, he’s the most popular bachelor in the region, why would he want someone as plain jane as me?”

Asami rolled her eyes at her more than oblivious friend.

“Kore, you know I’m not the greatest at all that birdie stuff, but I’m telling you, animal planet has taught me a thing or two, and he’s getting you shiny gifts. He’s flirting!”

Finch sighed at her use of her real name and took a big gulp of her drink.

“I just don’t know if I want to act on it since we work together y’know? It would complicate things and I could lose my job, I have security there, I’ve worked there forever, I don’t want to lose it.”

Asami shrugged her off, ordering them shots.

“I think you're overthinking it honestly. I doubt anything like that would happen. He’s your boss, who is anyone gonna tell? He owns the agency!”

They laughed together and the night progressed quickly.

^^^

Asami’s freckles were twinkling and her face was reddened with drunkness as Finch saw her into a cab and on her way home. She stood on the sidewalk outside of the bar and sighed, admiring her hero friend. Asami was the pro hero Starlight, boasting the wonderful power of being able to manipulate the appearance of starlight to the human eye. Since the sun was a star, she could blind anyone to the light but, her power stopped short of inside work, as the sun was invisible from inside buildings without windows.

Finch looked around slowly. Her world was spinning from the drinking and she sincerely doubted she would be ok to drive home. As she contemplated a cab she noticed a suspicious man standing down the way from her. He was fidgeting weirdly and keeping his head down, making Finch wonder what his deal was. She tried to shake off the weird feeling and decided she would sit in her car while she phoned a cab but as she went to walk towards her car the man moved with her. She swallowed hard, trying to blink away some of her drunkness to no avail. Maybe she was being too nervous?

When the man continued to follow her as she passed the parking lot she realized the hard truth of the matter. This guy was up to something, and she did not want to find out what. She continued to walk, thinking out her options. She didn’t have much combat training and what she did, she had forgotten long ago when she decided hero work wasn’t for her. If she stopped and confronted the guy it could aggravate him more, but if she kept walking she’d soon run out of places to go. She’d be lost, and possibly in more danger.

She used her phone to look at the reflection of the man behind her. She noticed his hands were shoved deep in his pockets and his face was turned down, hiding his appearance from her. She couldn’t tell what color his clothes were since she was looking through a reflection, but she could tell he was wearing jeans, a baggy, simple jacket, and a baseball cap.

She tapped away on her phone, with no one to text, she was trying her best to make it look like she was talking to someone. In her other hand she was maneuvering her keys to fit between her fingers, sticking out between them, the only weapon she would be provided.

As the man gained on her she had a sudden thought and tapped on Hawks’ contact, starting to call him right as the man’s hand gripped her shoulder. He whipped her around and grabbed her upper arm with his other hand, pulling her closer to the wall of the building beside her. She yelped at the sudden assault, dropping her phone on the sidewalk as he forced her against the wall, slamming her front into the brick before smashing her hand not once, but twice against the wall, until she dropped her keys.

“Who the hell are you?!”

She yelled as she let her wings burst open, pushing against the man. He groaned in surprise as her wings moved him off of her and let her whip around to face him. He came back at her though, grabbing her upper arms and pinning her to the building wall.

“Let me go you son of-”

She was abruptly punched in the jaw, and hard at that. She lost her train of thought, her mind reeling from the impact. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure as he grabbed her throat and pulled her shirt up. Her eyes started to tear up from the pressure around her neck before wrenching her knee up into the groin of the man. He let her go, going to his knees like a tree falling in a forest. When she got a good look of the man she realized that he was much larger than her, his arms alone twice the size of her torso and something was weird... Something under his skin was pulsating, the skin on his hands moving with vigor. It was as if he was turning into something else...

She made her get away, scooping up her phone in the rush and fumbling it, almost dropping it again as she realized Hawks was on the other end.

“Finch! Tell me where you are!”

“H-hawks-!”

She was cut off as she was grabbed around the waist, the man catching her easily and ripping her skirt up her hips.

“Two blocks south of the Oasis bar!”

She yelled in a desperate attempt for Hawks to be able to find her. She wasn’t sure if he would hear her from as far away as her phone was, once again dropped on the sidewalk, but she prayed he did as she took another hit, this time to the mouth.

She felt her lip gush with the new wound and internally lamented for wearing such a nice shirt that would now be ruined. She tried to think her way through the situation and stay calm but the way he was shoving her skirt up and trying to rip off her shirt, she was anything but calm. She threw her elbow back, not knowing where she was aiming but, hoping it would hit the man.

Luckily it did, her elbow hitting his stomach hard, making him fold over, groaning loudly. She spread her wings again, trying to push him back away as far as she could. She felt something pull in her right wing and squeaked, the pain sharp. As she sputtered blood from her lip she took off again, forgetting about her phone and turning the corner quickly, hoping to run into another popular area.

Her heels scraped against the sidewalk and she turned another corner, slipping and tumbling down, her knees scraping against the sidewalk. She didn’t pause, pulling herself back up and starting to run again when she noted a second pair of footsteps behind her. As she peaked around her shoulder she didn’t realize she was running into an dead end.

He had cornered her finally and her breathing picked up as she began to really freak out.

“D-don’t do this p-please-”

“Oh no I’ve got you now~”

He growled, moving in and shoving her to the ground, her head hitting the pavement and a headache blossoming. She groaned but tried to kick at the man as he pinned her down, starting to grab at her clothes again. She screamed as loud as she could for help, feeling her voice become rougher with each scream and her losing energy.

Suddenly, she felt a gust of wind and heard the flap of wings, and just as the man ripped the seam of her underwear, tossing them to the side, he was thrown off of her. She was dazed, looking over to find Hawks on top of the man, and it looked as if he was beating the ever loving hell out of him.

It wasn’t long before she lost consciousness.

^^^

When Finch awoke she was still laying on the cold pavement, unmoving and stiff. She blinked a couple times, trying to remember what had happened, when she noticed the red and blue flashing lights.

“Finch!”

A warm hand grabbed her arm, pulling her up as she groaned. Her knees nearly buckled but strong arms enveloped her, setting her up on a cushioned gurney. Her eyesight was a little blurry but she caught sight of the feathery blonde hair and knew he had came.

“H-hawks-”

“Hey baby bird, you’re alright~”

He purred, trying to comfort her as he caressed the bruise on her jaw. Paramedics were moving her towards the ambulance and he knew he wouldn’t be able to go with her. She began to weep, her gentle sobs breaking his heart.

“Hawks d-don’t leave me-”

She sobbed, grabbing onto his arm weakly. He didn’t want to leave her but he wouldn’t be permitted near her if he wasn’t related after she was put in the ambulance. As they lifted the gurney into the ambulance he stuttered.

“I-I’m her b-boyfriend-”

The paramedic ushered him in quickly, closing the doors behind them. He wondered how much trouble he would get in for that little lie, the commission would find out, he was sure. As soon as the rumor got around he would be screwed, and she would probably be fired. He felt bad but, looking over her injuries made him feel worse. He had a gut feeling earlier that tonight would be horrific and man was he right.

As they arrived to the hospital and brought her into a room he followed closely behind, even though he knew, the longer he stayed the more trouble he would cause.

^^^

When they finally were released he walked beside Finch to the front of the hospital. It only took about 30 minutes for them to take her statement and treat her wounds before letting her go. He helped her out of the hospital doors before looking at her.

“U-uh.. Did you want me to take you home then?”

She nodded silently, she hadn’t said much since after she recounted the events of the night to the police. He didn’t reply, only coming to stand in front of her.

“I’m gonna pick you up now, if that’s ok?”

She nodded again and he scooped her up, her arms going to hold around his neck as he took to the sky. He noticed her give a little squeak but didn’t mention it as he asked for directions.

“U-uh... it’s apartment 206 on the east part of the city.. Sakura street.”

She whispered to him, looking around in awe. This was the first time she had ever been flying. He got them there quickly, stepping onto her balcony before setting her down. Silence fell over them before she finally spoke.

“H-hawks, I know it’s in-inappropriate... but, would you mind staying awhile?”

She asked. He blushed hard, taken aback by her question. He would’ve never expected such a wish from her. He found himself rubbing the back of his neck and contemplating what he should do but ultimately, he gave in.

“Sure sweetheart.”

She opened the sliding glass door and let him into the apartment, turning on lights as she went through. The first thing he noticed was the smell of crisp apples, her whole apartment smelled sweet with the scent, she must’ve had a candle or something. As he followed her through he noticed next how clean she was. Everything was put away and honestly, she didn’t own many nice things. If he had to guess what the nicest thing she owned was, it would have to be the hairpin he gifted her. Not that the apartment wasn’t nice, it was just very middle-lower class. He felt kinda guilty all of the sudden.

“I’m sorry it isn’t much, you’re probably used to much more...”

She trailed off, looking away. He shook his head at her, smiling.

“No birdie, it’s perfect!”

He reassured her. She gave a small smile and excused herself to go freshen up, leaving himself to his devices in her living room. As he snooped around he noticed an abundance of throw blankets stocked up in the corner and gave a shy smile. How cute, she tends to nest. Then he made his way into her kitchen and listened quietly to figure out where she was before shyly opening her cabinets and fridge. Half of him was genuinely curious as to what she preferred to eat and the other half of him was just nosy. He did realize pretty quickly that she had absolutely no meat.

When she returned he met her in the living room again, face warm from the guilt of snooping around.

“You can leave if you want, I know you’re probably a busy man..”

“Oh no, haha! Actually I was just sitting around at home so, I’m not in a rush sweetheart~”

She bit her lip gently and he nearly melted at her expression. Even looking so roughed up she was still beautiful. Her smeared makeup was gone now, only the bruises remaining, and she was wearing a cute pajama set, just a short pair of lounge shorts and a baggy t-shirt.

“Well, if you don’t have much to do tomorrow did you want to hang out for awhile?”

He nodded instantly but inwardly knew he should be going. He was only going to get her into more and more trouble. She lead him to her couch anyway, turning on the tv and grabbing a throw blanket.

“You’ve got a lot of those huh?”

She gave a small slap to his shoulder and he snickered, poking fun at her collection of blankets.

“Don’t be like that, I’m sure you do the same thing~”

She murmured, settling down on the couch as a random show played. Hawks pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her. She leaned into him, sighing and closing her eyes before a stray tear ran down her cheek.

“T-thank you-”

He shushed her, stroking her hair as she began to sob again. He pulled her into his lap and hugged her tightly, wrapping her blanket around her.

“Don’t thank me Dove, it’s what I do, I’m just glad you thought to call me.”

He mumbled, stroking her hair and combing through it with his fingers,

“I know it’s been a rough night and you’re probably still feeling a little tipsy. Did you want me to go so you could get some rest?”

She stiffened at his offer and her tiny hands gripped his jacket before weakening.

“I-if you need to go that’s fine...”

She got off of him abruptly and started to make her way to the back hallway, to where he was sure was her bedroom.

“Aw, c’mon Birdie, don’t leave me here alone~”

She paused and he saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks from where he was turned around, watching her over the back of the couch.

“T-then come with me...”

He hesitated for a moment before his brain actually processed what she meant, her wings shivering slightly. When he did finally catch up he couldn’t help but stumble off the couch, straighten himself to try and save some of his dignity, and follow her to her bedroom.

#bnha hawks #hawks fluff #mha hawks #hawks #hawks angst #keigo takami #bnha keigo #fanfic #fanfiction

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friendocheaven · 3 years

Text

Picnic Ask

Ask and ye shall recieve @theaxolotleastofthesun it’s long af tho, so it’s under the cut.

1. Where and When is the picnic happening? (Gonna take this as ideal location and season basically)

a. Milo: Prefers someplace a bit south—warmer than the northern parts of the Eye. Summer in Sun Elf territory would be nice. Not south enough to get jungle-y and humid (Glim can take heat, but draws the line at humidity), but someplace he could retreat to the blessed relief offered by the shade of a scrubby tree and have a good excuse to eat his favorite spicy foods and sweat to cool down.

b. Glim: as stated above, he doesn’t do well in high humidity. Also not the biggest fan of excessive heat, but will put up with it for Milo’s sake. Were it up to him though, he would prefer an autumn picnic in a cozy shady glen under a still-full canopy of rich reds and violets and sunny yellows. A sigh of crisp wind carrying with it the first hint of winter.

c. Remmi: Love’s spring, especially when it’s still early. They love the way the fruit trees look while still flowering and the cool, but warming, breeze. They would most enjoy something near water, but with plush green grass still under foot. The Northern Reservoir is well tended, with bright, blossoming bushes hedging cobbled pathways. The surrounding park stretches most of the way ‘round. Remmi would most like a quiet day at the eastern edge—farthest away from the great roaring falls that lead into the canyon. Bonus if there are frogs.

d. Hani: Loves the dead heat of summer; the feel of warm sun on his skin. A midsummer, late afternoon picnic after a day of splashing around the Southern Sea would be heaven. Sure, the food might get a little sandy, but it wouldn’t stop him from eating and enjoying every second.

2. What food and drinks do your OCs bring? (you fool! You’re enabling me to indulge my fascination with food culture!)

a. Milo: Goes all out on the spice—picnic with him at your own peril. He packs extra-hot kimchi, seasoned roasted garlic cloves, Zevi’s falafel recipe, and a few other side dishes that reflect his upbringing by a Southern Dwarf familiar with Halfling food culture. He also gets pretty excited with drinks, bringing three; an iced ginger tea made with turmeric and black pepper, buttercup and honey hwachae (most non-halflings just call it wine even though it’s usually not alcoholic) because he’s (not so) secretly pretty sappy and sentimental, and Baekse-ju to finish off with a good pair for spicy food and just a touch of alcohol.

b. Glim: Settles for light, seasonal snack foods. He brings a bunch of fresh cut in-season fruit like apples (that yes, he does cut the skins to look like bunnies like his mother used to), a couple loaves of bara brith made with ground dried fruits and nuts served with butter, and a whole basket of pic ar y maen (cookies with raisins and currants mixed in). He brings spiced virgin cider and a fine local white wine to wash it down.

c. Remmi: As a professional baker, they refused to bring anything but their best to their picnic. They pick finger-food pastries—the best from their eclectic cooking experience and travels. Beignets topped with honey and powdered sugar—in a basket enchanted to keep them fresh and hot and crisp because they take pride in their work. An impressive assortment of petit fors lined up and packed tightly in another container. Muffuletta finger sandwiches with toothpicks holding them together for the more savory inclined guests. And finally some cranberry pastila which they hadn’t made in years and was their way of flexing their baker’s muscles. They pack a thermos of milk tea and an iced chocolate drink.

d. Hani: not a big cook. He was hoping Senya would do most of the cooking. It’s not like he’s particularly picky about what he ingests. To be polite though, he brings a crock of bamia—a stew with lamb, okra, tomatoes, and onion—that his mother would make on special occasions. He also brings an impressive array of drinks; sugar cane juice, carob juice, tamarind juice, and iced coffee.

3. What are your OC’s wearing to the picnic?

a. Milo: Largely his usual sort of outfit. A sleeveless turtleneck, cargo capris, and combat boots. He does add a lightweight cotton shawl embroidered with geese in shades of red that he got as a wedding gift from Lian. He wears it to avoid sunburn, but once in the shade and eating, he carefully folds it and sets it aside so it doesn’t get dirty.

b. Glim: A cream colored tunic and brown tasseled cardigan over dark blue leggings, simple but sleek black ankle boots, and finished off with a simple sapphire teardrop pendant on a gold chain.

c. Remmi: they opt for something simple and comfortable, but fitting for the season. They wear a yellow wide-band tank top under an oversized baby pink cable knit sweater. The sweater is so big it slouches off one shoulder, reaches their knees, and the sleeves hide their hands if they aren’t scrunched up at the elbow. They pair that with slim, washed out jeans, and a pair of tan slouchy boots. As one final touch, they don cherry blossom studs in their ears.

d. Hani: he goes for something sporty and comfy. A loose and flowy off-white sleeveless crop top over a pair of baggy gray-blue shorts held round his hips by a broad and colorful sash and a pair of greek sandals that he discards almost immediately. To add a touch of class—after all this is a fun outing so why not—he wears golden arm bands just above each bicep. Those stay on longer, but they, too, eventually get unceremoniously dumped into the picnic basket in favor of total comfort.

4. Which OC brings a musical instrument to idly play?

a. Surprisingly enough, Hani. Remmi knows a little piano and harp, but those aren’t exactly available at a picnic. Milo has never learned an instrument (though he finds guitar interesting). And Glim tried playing, but sucked at just about everything; and anything he could play he couldn’t play in front of others. Hani, on the other hand, randomly knows how to play—and is good at—the oud (which is like an Arab lute). And yes, he does attempt to play Wonderwall on it.

5. How quickly does your OC realize there are ants trying to sneak into their food? What do they do about it?

a. Milo: He’s very perceptive, so it doesn’t take long for him to notice. He proceeds to squish them then mix them into his food for “extra protein” without hesitation. Despite knowing that Milo was raised eating bugs and still does fairly regularly, everyone still looks at him like he’s gone insane.

b. Glim: He picks up on it when someone else points it out. It’s only then that he realizes that he forgot to activate the insect repellent rune. He curses under his breath and apologizes before quickly moving the picnic supplies a few meters away and activating it then.

c. Remmi: They spend the whole picnic low-key looking out for this. Whenever bugs start walking toward or flying around their precious gourmet picnic, they nonchalantly close all the containers up tight then swat them all away without breaking the conversation.

d. Hani: he doesn’t notice until one of the ants bites his tongue as he’s eating. He spits that one out because it was mean, but all subsequent ones he eats. And unlike Milo, Hani doesn’t mix them into anything, he just pops them into his mouth.

6. Which OC hides under the shade at first before being convinced to come out into the sun? How do they react?

a. Glim hates the heat. If you can manage to convince him to leave the tranquility of shade, he will be a drama queen about it. Really laying it on thick and moaning about how “the sun is a white hot laser” against his “poor fragile flesh” and that if he continues on he will surely “burn up, dry out, and die!” and other such dramatic nonsense. He gets weirdly poetic when he’s frustrated or cranky. Needless to say, Milo has ceased pushing the issue.

7. Imagine your OCs spending their time picking nearby wildflowers and watching the butterflies and bees at work.

a. Milo foregoes this particular activity, choosing this time instead to just take in the scenery. He’s scared he might upset a hive or get stung or bitten by something so he’d rather just sit back and soak up the atmosphere.

b. Glim is carefully rooting around for four leaf clovers under a subdued parasol.

c. Remmi carefully plucks and cuts an armful of flowers and stems so they can make colorful flower crowns for everyone.

d. Hani chases the bugs and small animals, not unlike a dog would. But he’s having fun so it’s fine.

8. Which OC foregoes a picnic blanket and sits directly on the ground? Are they concerned by the grass stains on their clothes afterwards?

a. Hani doesn’t care where he plants his butt and cares almost as little about stains.

9. Which OC brings a chair because they can’t stand the thought of sitting on the ground?

a. Remmi, but a lot of it is because they don’t want to risk getting their clothes too dirty and also because the ground is never as soft and even as you think or hope. So sitting on the ground, even on a blanket, hurts their butt.

10. Imagine your OCs falling asleep after eating their food, content and happy.

a. Milo is one of the first to nod off and lays down in the shade. He kicks his shoes off and lets the sun warm his feet while the shade keeps his face cool. He wakes up to groggily help pack everything back up.

b. Glim doesn’t actually fall asleep. He just sort of zones out while playing with Milo’s hair and enjoying the breeze.

c. After loading up on carbs, Remmi dozes off in their chair and wake up with a tender sunburn spread across their nose and cheeks. They vow to never fall asleep in the sun like that again, but they make the same mistake next time.

d. Hanni has seemingly boundless energy throughout the day, which is a bit unusual for him as he often naps a lot when the sun is out, but is wired by the time the moon replaces it. As soon as they’ve packed everything up and are headed home, though, the excitement wears off and he crashes hard. He’s asleep the whole way back.

#I got like.... reeeeally into this #it took two sessions at my computer #lol

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idreamtofthereaper · 4 years

Text

And So, I’m Here (XIX)

You are 23 and never had a boyfriend. Which you can’t understand because your mom keeps telling you you’re pretty and beautiful and all that mom stuff.

You got tired of waiting, and even looking for one (especially since you have your best friend pushing you to get one) so instead, you made your own. The problem? Your imaginative boyfriend is very real and has some questions to ask.

pairings: wayv/nct’s ten x reader

genre: social media au ig

warnings: possible mature content

note from the author: If you want to be on the tag list, reply here or message me or something. Also, I’m sorry for the slow updates :(

MASTERLIST

Taglist: @chunbyun @nshitae @bestof99s @vinmylife @diva-skywalker-af @animegirl366 @bbyyangiex2

“What do you mean you hate fruits?”

“It’s exactly what it means, I hate fruits.” Ten said a matter of factly. He took another handful of popcorn and stuff them inside his mouth. The movie playing now becoming a simple background noise.

You looked at him weirdly, Ten doing the same with you. “What? Do you have some obsession with fruits or something?”

“You’re weird.” You replied simply and shook your head. Pushing your legs to stretch and put it on top of Ten who has his on top of the table.

You asked him to come over for lunch after he announced he got in, specifically telling him to wear comfortable clothes. Ten thought you were joking or setting him up for a prank, so he came in wearing slacks and a polo shirt.

But when he opened the door and saw you lounging on the couch with some pasta you made in your baggy clothes, he knew you were definitely not joking.

“You look fucking ridiculous.”

But all was solved when you lend him some of your baggy clothes too, which doesn’t fit him as baggy but wasn’t too tight for his comfort. When he emerged from your room, his old clothes neatly folded on your bed, you greeted him by holding up a bouquet of flowers in front of him.

He stood staring at you with a glowing expression as he examined the flowers. “I don’t know if you like chocolates, I hope you do or you have allergies or we really can’t be together. I don’t know if you would appreciate bears and I don’t know what else boys like-” you stopped rambling for a bit and thought about it “As a matter of fact, I don’t know much about you-” with this, your sentence really wasn’t finished.

He pushed the flowers aside and grab your face, staring at you for a moment before dipping down to give you a kiss. Unlike before, this time around the kiss was welcomed.

If it wasn’t for his hands clasped around yours, which was holding the flowers, the bees would be very mad right now. His other hand in turn held your face gently.

His touch was gentle, it was like a feather is just pressed on the side of your face. It was obvious he doesn’t want to push it too much, a small space was still between the Two of you and the kiss was the only thing connecting you.

His lips kissed you gently, but when you responded, his kiss grew more. It wasn’t a lustful or heated kiss, the kiss the both of you shared was held back for days, weeks and for Ten’s end, months.

As the kiss prolonged, his hands moved down to your waist as the flowers was now on the floor. With his entire body, he pushed you to the door and the gap that was between the both of you earlier was now history.

His hands gripping tightly on your hips, yours moved to his arms to the back of his head. You grab bits of his hair as his hands now traced the skin inside of your waist.

Feeling his skin on yours, you decided to pull back a little. The action wasn’t jittery, but it still alerted him. His head pulled away from you as he removed his hands from you as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know until where, I, was I too much? I shouldn’t have pushed that-”

“You’re good, just not right now” You replied, grabbing his hands and pulling him close to you, your foreheads touching with each other.

He released a sigh of relief but then nodded, smiling at you as hos hands went back to your waist to pull it closer to him. “Whenever you are. You’re a lot but waiting for you will always be something I won’t regret doing.”

You stared at Ten again as you found him asleep. His arms wrapped around your curled body as the other one was resting on the pillow. His head slumped to the other side as the hood of your his hoodie did little to help him cover his eyes.

It was already the 3rd movie and the pasta was nowhere to be seen, the popcorn gone and the 3rd movie was nothing but a lackluster as well.

Boredom finally getting the best of you, you decided to grab your phone and lower the volume of the movie to let Ten sleep more, remembering he allegedly haven’t gotten a decent sleep because of the movie.

You smiled to yourself and even let out a few chuckle as you looked at the photos from earlier. A photo of Ten at the kitchen trying to replicate your pasta and some more of the both of you just goofing around.

A particular photo caught your eye, it was earlier when he was zoning out while you were explaining how to make the pasta sauce.

“Dude, you’re not even hiding the fact that you took the photo.”

“Bro, you’re not even hiding the fact that you weren’t listening.”

You decided that your Ten needs to be flexed a little, so you post that specific photo on your private instagram account, where you were only following some friends and others.

You felt Ten stirred behind you, causing you to exit the app for a while and look at him.

After a few grunts and some eye squinting, his eyes immediately looked for you. “Oh, you’re still here.” He muttered with a rough voice.

“This is my house, idiot.” You answered, sitting up for a while and made yourself comfortable. Letting Ten put a pillow on the end of the couch as he slumped back.

His arms opened at you, which then you crawled towards him and place your body beside him, letting the couch and his body sandwich you. His arms again wrapped around you as the other was hanging off the couch.

“Yn.”

“Hmm?” You asked, looking up at him, who was already looking at you.

He only stared for a while before shaking his head with a smile, placing a kiss on the top of your head before his eyes began closing again. “Nothing.”

You only laughed at his actions before wrapping your legs and arms around him, placing a soft kiss on his hands before following through.

HELLO THIS IS YOUR WRITER SPEAKING.

Just want to let everyone know that the next chapter will be the last chapter of this story. Thank you guys so so much for spending your precious time reading this story and I know this is not the best and I’m so sorry for that, I will definitely make it up to you guys in a different way.

Thank you guys so so so much for all of the love and reactions this story has received. I am in awe, I hope to still see you guys around <3

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dorkyungsoowrites · 6 years

Text

Spontaneous Attraction Ch. 25

Pairings: Kyungsoo x You, Past Chanyeol x You

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut | Ambiguous AU

Warnings: None

Word Count: 6.9k

Description: A tiny confession and a big announcement feat. drunk members

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |

Practice went well. You remembered Kyungsoo's well-meaning words and stopped to make yourself some food. A light sandwich would do since the boys would be over in a few hours to eat and drink. After you sat the plate down you looked for a drink. The longer you stared inside the fridge the more unsteady you felt. The tighter your chest became.

Okay, just stop, you told yourself and shut the door to the fridge. Stop everything and breathe. That was how you had always curbed your anxiety attacks. It didn't work every time, but it would at least prevent things from escalating too much while you were alone. Deep breath in. Out. In. Out. Why were you anxious suddenly? You didn't have to search your thoughts for long. The announcement. Soon the entire world would know you're dating Kyungsoo. It was exciting but terrifying. Much like your relationship when you first met. This would be good, you convinced yourself. Long inhale. Long exhale. Even if things went bad you could stay away from the comments. You had avoided too much about Kyungsoo's group on the internet so far. You only knew what he told you. It would be fine. You would be fine.

Just in case, though. You pivoted on your heel and opened a cabinet. Liquor. All the arrangements you kept for when the members came over. You grabbed the weakest one and poured a glass. This would calm your trembling hands until Kyungsoo came home. Which was sooner than you thought.

Two hours passed before the front door clicked open and shut. The sandwich was long gone. But so was the bottle you had been sipping out of. You had a fairly high tolerance, and it was weak booze, so you stood to greet him. Kyungsoo's eyes flitted from the dining table with the empty liquor bottle to your flushed face as he put away his coat.

"Y/N, how drunk are you?"

"Not very," you answered. You smiled proudly at how non-slurred your words were. Man he looked good, you thought. Those tight jeans and baggy sweatshirt. You chewed on your bottom lip as he came closer. Were his hips swaying? Or was that the alcohol? Kyungsoo opened his mouth to speak, but you wrapped your arms around his neck and crashed your lips together. It was short and uncoordinated. He backed away with a wet smack, eyebrows pulled together in consternation.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," you giggled. Your hands had a mind of their own running down his chest and sides. Then tugging up his sweatshirt to hold his slim waist. "Can't I kiss you hello?" His fingers came around your wrists, guiding your hands off his skin to your dismay. You were itching to touch him. How were you supposed to resist him when he looked so delicious? And how had you never noticed how handsome he looked in that sweatshirt before now? The soft, black material hung off his slight frame down to his thighs. Those thighs. The ones that looked like they might burst the seams of his pants with how thick and firm they were from dancing so often. It was sinful. Teasing you with the bare skin you knew was underneath. You suddenly had the urge to tear off his skinny jeans and ride him with only the sweatshirt on. Heat rushed between your legs at the thought.

"Jagi, are you listening to me?" His scolding tone snapped you back to the present. He was practically glaring now. Dammit he was hot. "I've never seen you day drink. In fact I don't think I've ever seen you completely drunk at all."

"I'm not," you assured with a cute smile. "I'm not even swaying in place yet. See?" You took your hands back and stood still in front of him. It was true you didn't show obvious outward signs, but your vision was bordering on swimming. You were aware enough to know you were teetering on drunk, but he didn't need to know that. So you focused on controlling the symptoms. Don't laugh at everything, don't stumble, speak clearly, and touch him. Wait, no. You mentally slapped yourself. Control your hormones.

"I don't believe you," he spoke with a shake of his head. Then he was leading you to the bathroom. You followed without questioning it. "You're staring at me weirdly. I don't have time to deal with this."

"I can't think you're sexy?"

"Not when eight other guys are about to walk through that door with a camera." Kyungsoo stopped you at the sink and turned to start the shower. The last half of his sentence went completely over your head.

"Let them come in. Didn't you talk about wanting them to catch us fucking?" He grumbled something under his breath, shoulders tense. He bent over to grab a shampoo bottle that had fallen. You tilted your head and stared wantonly, biting your lip hard. The dark denim stretched and strained over his backside. So much effort just to hold his assets. It would be so easy to relieve the stress those jeans were under. His full, rounded ass on display. Were those pants melded to his body? How were they so tight without ripping? You were about to combust. Kyungsoo shot up swiftly, owlish eyes finding your heavily lidded ones.

"Did you just moan?" Did you? You didn't notice. Your teeth released your abused lip. "I heard you. You moaned while staring at my ass." You shrugged. Kyungsoo scoffed, one side of his mouth lifting in a bemused smirk. He set the shampoo aside. "You're a horny drunk." It wasn't a question.

"Horny is such a gross word." He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes sparking with amusement.

"Is this why you have that 'no sex while drunk' rule? Did you wake up in some random bed when you were younger with someone you didn't like?"

"No," you refuted a little too aggressively, pouting.

"Strip." Your hands went for your shirt first without thought. Then your pants. While Kyungsoo stood there watching with that cocky smirk.

"I did like him thank you very much." You felt very defensive suddenly. Like your pride needed protecting. Or you were just tired of keeping this story secret and you had lost part of your filter. "That's the problem."

"Was it awkward or something?"

"Of course it was awkward, I didn't remember half of it." Your pants were kicked off. Next was your bra.

"Did he ask for a play-by-play or something?" It was meant as a joke, but your heart stung at the un-intentional jab.

"I just felt bad, okay? It was my first time." His smirk flattened. Your fingers paused at the clasp on your back. Too tired to take it off. You hugged yourself and looked down, feeling strangely vulnerable. Your voice lowered. "I felt gross." Kyungsoo called your name softly. Strong arms wrapped you in an embrace. You hid your face in his sweatshirt. "That's why I have the rule. I don't want to feel that way again. Ever."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"No one knows. It was too embarrassing."

"If it makes you feel better my first time wasn't that great either."

"But you remember it." His chest heaved with a long sigh.

"I do. I'm sorry."

"I never even told him. I was so scared of hurting him."

"I take it it didn't end well?"

"Well he's still not so secretly in love with me and I'm living with his best friend so no. Not really." Kyungsoo pulled back.

"It was Chanyeol?" You already missed his warmth. You clutched his sweatshirt and tugged him closer, head on his chest. You hummed pleasantly. "We'll talk about it later," he sighed quietly. Kyungsoo went back to nagging mode. Prying your hands off, him he unhooked your bra and slid it off your arms. "You still need to sober up. Come on, jagi." The room bobbed back and forth. You chuckled and swayed with it to keep it in place.

"I think that last glass is kicking in." His fingers hooked in your underwear. The thin material dropped around your ankles. You stepped out of them and leaned forward. Your lips met his neck, but he stepped back. "Kyungsoo," you whined. "Come on, I've been wet ever since you came home. Play with me."

"Not like this," he answered monotonously. "Shower. Now." A grin played on your lips.

"Will you join me?"

"No." You placed your hands on his hips.

"You're so cruel."

"You shouldn't have been drinking this much. Do you realize we're planning to livestream our announcement in an hour? I came home early to cook. Not to babysit."

"You're so sexy when you scold me."

"Y/N," he said firmly, shoving your hands away. "I said no. Take a cold shower and dress in something nice."

"Make me."

"No, don't go there." You noticed the way his jaw clenched when he swallowed, adams apple bobbing. You moved closer. This time when you kissed his neck he stayed put. One of your hands wandered to the front of his jeans. Your lips ghosted over the shell of his ear.

"Why don't you take off these tight pants and fuck me until I behave?" His head turned, lips fitting with yours in a bruising kiss. You moaned and followed his lead. Eager for what was to come. You stumbled backwards. Then you yelped. When you opened your eyes you were in the shower. The icy water pelted your shoulder and side. Your whole body immediately began to shiver. Kyungsoo laughed at his victory. "A-a-asshole," you stammered. Teeth chattering.

"I'm going to start dinner. You better be sober and ready for company in an hour." Then he picked up your clothes and left.

When you emerged from your room, dry and dressed, you looked sheepishly to Kyungsoo. He was in the kitchen stirring something in a large pot, glasses perched on his nose. It smelled delicious. Tomato-y, whatever it was. You had put on dark jeans and a pastel top. One of the few nice shirts you owned that wasn't black or white. You even put on an undershirt so your bra didn't show through which you normally didn't care about. He saw you from the corner of his eye and smiled.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah. My head cleared up a lot. Thanks." He jerked his head towards the dining table.

"There's a glass of water waiting for you." Indeed there was.

"I'm sorry about earlier," you told him softly. Kyungsoo tapped the handle of the spoon he stirred with on the edge of the pot and set it on the counter. "For coming on to you like that, and blabbering that stupid story. You didn't need to hear that." He faced you with a confused look.

"First of all, 'coming on to me'? Are we in a fifties high school movie? Should I tell the audience tonight we're 'going steady'? Second, I'm glad you told me." His eyebrows ticked up in a reaction you couldn't quite place. Like he was thinking, 'it was crazy, but good.' He walked to one of the cabinets, pulled out some salt and pepper and went back to the pot. "I have questions, but they can wait until tonight." You went to the table, picked up your glass of water, and stood on the opposite side of the island from him. Your eyes drifted. Even sober you loved these pants. They hugged him in all the right places, and if only that damn oversized sweatshirt wasn't blocking your view of his ass--no. Focus.

"What kind of questions?"

"Don't worry about it."

"No, go ahead. I told you this much. Why not the rest of my secrets?" He sprinkled the salt and pepper on his palm before dumping them in. He stirred.

"He didn't--I mean he didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No."

"It's just, I've heard his side of the story. Before I met you when we all talked about our...stories. He never mentioned it being awkward."

"Well he's a liar," you chuckled. Kyungsoo spooned some of whatever he was cooking in his mouth to taste. He decided to add another pinch of salt. "We didn't talk for a week after it happened."

"You never told him you don't remember?"

"Well I remember parts. It's embarrassing."

"Most first time stories are. It's okay."

"It just felt like...you know that empty feeling you get when you're lonely? It was like that, but inside of me. It's hard to explain."

"You felt violated," he provided. You stared wide-eyed at the back of his head. How did he know? Kyungsoo set the spoon down on the counter and strolled over so he was in front of you. He leaned his hip on the island, arms crossed. "Right?"

"Yeah, but--"

"But you loved him." Your brows stitched together, searching his face, but it was blank. "That's how I felt after that snake. I mean, it's different because I knew she was cheating at the time." His ex, the chef you met. Your mouth shaped an 'o' in understanding. He must have let her have sex with him because he thought it would make her stop cheating. He thought if he gave her what she wanted she would stay with him. Then to find out it didn't matter. That she used him. It broke your heart knowing he endured that. It was no wonder he was so withdrawn when you first started dating. He needed to know you weren't going to leave him once you had sex. That you cared. "I just don't understand why you stayed with him after that. If he made you feel like shit why did you date him? She siphoned something out of me that night. I couldn't stand to be near her. My skin crawled and my stomach would be upset. Why was Chanyeol different?"

"He didn't use me," you replied slowly. "We were stupid kids drunk at a party, but he loved me. He took the hurt away after."

"So you never felt violated again after that?"

"Of course not." Kyungsoo sighed deeply and kissed your forehead.

"That all I needed to know." With his gentle smile to reassure you and lift the mood you went over to the two pots on the stove with him. The larger one he had been stirring was filled with a red sauce. The second pot had drained noodles. Spaghetti. He scooped some sauce on his stirring spoon and held it out to you. You blew on it before tasting it and hummed.

"Perfect. That's really good, Soo."

"Good," he chirped happily. He switched off the stove, poured the noodles in the sauce pot, and gave the spoon to you. So you put your water down. "Can you mix that together while I get changed?"

"What's wrong with what you're wearing?"

"I want to look nice for the broadcast."

"You look great," you grinned.

"I'll be right back." You gulped down the water while incorporating the noodles and sauce together. After finishing you filled a second glass and got out dishes to serve dinner on. Kyungsoo came back a few minutes later with a plain black t-shirt on. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Kyungsoo, you hardly look different."

"Sure I do," he argued with a smile. "You can see my waistline now." You walked over to him and kissed his cheek with a giggle.

"Very chic." That's when you paused. "Wait, did you put on make-up?" There was evidence of concealer on his more red spots and powder to cover up the shine on his nose.

"Just a little." You rolled your eyes, but couldn't stop smiling. He cared more than he let on that tonight go well. Not long after you heard the knocks on the door and you opened it to let the other eight men inside. You greeted and ate like normal. The conversation you were dreading occurred as you all sat around the living room after dinner.

"Alright, good," Junmyeon started. "Everyone on the floor against the wall. We can't give away where we are. Y/N, did Kyungsoo go over the rules?"

"Rules?"

"Sorry I haven't," Kyungsoo answered. Junmyeon gave a tight-lipped smile and faced you as the others got ready. The energy in the room completely shifted. Everyone was buzzing with anticipation. Sitting huddled on the floor in front of the blank wall where you still didn't own a tv. You don't think you'd ever get one to be honest. It wasn't necessary when you could cuddle next to Kyungsoo in bed at night with a laptop. Something warm wrapped around your hand and you looked to see Junmyeon tightening his grip.

"You're doing great, Y/N." The assuring words forced you to pause and take a deep breath. He was pulling you away from the commotion, thumb stroking the back of your palm. His soft voice was like magic. Your pulse slowed. The conversations and bickering of the other eight faded to the background and you nodded to show you were listening. "I know it's a lot to take in at once, but we all believe you're ready for it. Since you haven't been involved with our group you don't know what to expect totally. That's why I'm here now. I put Chanyeol in charge of starting the livestream. We'll all greet the audience and give it a minute for people to tune in. We'll announce that we have news and Kyungsoo will introduce you. Here's where the rules kick in." You nodded again so he knew you weren't tuning him out. "Don't give away any details you're not comfortable with the whole world knowing. No locations, numbers, stuff like that. No over the top physical affection. And especially watch your language, please. All our content is meant to be suitable for a younger audience."

"Okay," you agreed slowly, processing everything.

"In the future maybe we'll reveal your job, but for now with your new position in the orchestra it's better to wait so you're not harassed. Chanyeol agreed to letting everyone know you grew up together, but leave out the messy details. Are you okay with that?"

"Lie?"

"No, just omit that you dated."

"Yeah that's fine."

"Good. Then that's it. We'll probably talk about our upcoming schedules and answer a few comments and say goodbye. It won't be long. Still nervous?" He saw right through you. You chuckled and nodded. His arms came around to embrace you, rubbing up and down your back to act like he was scrubbing off your jittery energy.

"Thanks, Junmyeon."

"My pleasure, dove."

"So the name is sticking, huh?"

"Baek told me. I thought it was cute."

"From you it is. From him it sounds like teasing." Junmyeon laughed brightly and let you go.

"The fans will learn to love you just as much as us. You're wonderful. Don't doubt this."

"I'm not. You really are something else, Junmyeon. Thank you for taking care of me." His smile widened.

"You're like a sister. Of course I'm gonna take care of you. Ready?"

"Yeah." He pat your shoulder before joining the others, leaving you out of frame in the kitchen. Kyungsoo moved so he was closest to you while Chanyeol got out his phone. You took a deep breath. The screen mirrored their faces and Chanyeol greeted the camera. The members behind him couldn't keep still, whispering their excitement. They so were not subtle at all. It was adorable to witness actually.

"Get to it!" Jongdae urged. "They can play back the beginning later."

"Alright, everyone, we have a special announcement to make. Kyungsoo." He tilted the camera so they both showed clearly. Heat rose up his face as he started talking.

"We want to introduce you to someone. Please welcome this person with the same amount of love, support and respect you have with us." He looked over at you with a nervous smile and motioned you over. You sat next to him on the floor, grinning and waving at the camera. "This is Y/N. My girlfriend."

"Hello, everyone," you said brightly. "It's wonderful to finally greet you."

"We've been together for a while, but we kept it secret for privacy's sake. You guys are an important part of my life, but over the time we've been together Y/N has grown to be as well. It only felt right to introduce these two worlds together. The two things that make me happiest. I know this might come as a shock, but we're really great together. She's great. I hope you all grow to love her as much as I do."

"Don't leave us out!" Baekhyun interjected. "We love you too, Y/N."

"How did you meet? I have that answer," Chanyeol read out loud. "Y/N and I were childhood friends. I introduced them." You suppose it was only partially a lie since he was one of the ones who forced Kyungsoo out that night you met. You laughed and ruffled his hair.

"I've known this goofball for ages." Your hand instinctually fell back down onto Kyungsoo's knee. He covered it with his, interlocking your fingers. It knocked him out of his trance and he glanced to the camera again. All the members huddled to search the comments. Jongin chuckled out of nowhere.

"Someone thought you were going to show off a new dog, Soo."

"Well she is family," Sehun added.

"Aw, guys. You're going to make me blush."

"Y/N, answer that one!" Baekhyun pointed excitedly. The text was scrolling too fast for you.

"I missed it."

"Your job."

"Oh, I'm a musician. I play and teach." You did your best to read the comments. One that flew by made you laugh. "Yes, Chanyeol's ears have always been huge."

"Hey! I'm sensitive about my ears." The giant whined. That was when you noticed Kyungsoo fiddling with the ring on your finger. A habit he had picked up since giving it to you. Whenever he held your hand he found himself twirling the small silver band mindlessly. It didn't do any harm so you never pointed it out. You doubt he even knew he did it.

"She takes great care of us." Yixing's voice brought you back to the conversation. Junmyeon cut in next, taking the phone from Chanyeol. Like most of the others you weren't in frame anymore.

"She's very encouraging and helpful to our members. Sometimes on especially busy weeks she'll surprise us with food to force us to take a break." Sehun leaned on the leaders' shoulder. "I've never met someone I so quickly considered a close friend. She's really incredible."

"Stop," you chuckled. "I'm normal. I just care a lot. You make me seem like some perfect person."

"But you are pretty close," Kyungsoo whispered. The others didn't hear it, but you felt yourself blush at his words. You nudged his shoulder with yours.

"Charmer." Kyungsoo chuckled softly and looked away shyly, fighting the pull of a smile on his lips. They directed the topic away to their schedules for the remainder of the stream. Which you were grateful for. You could relax and laugh at the boys' usual antics from the sideline where you preferred to be.

When the stream ended you were caught off guard. Chanyeol was turning around as he put away his phone. You opened your mouth to thank all of them when your lips were suddenly smothered. Several gasps and a few giggles were heard. Your eyes blew open wide. Out of the corner you saw Jongin slapping Sehun's shoulder in a fit of excitement, mouth agape and eyes smiling. Sehun was complaining how it hurt, but it went on deaf ears. Kyungsoo was pressed up against you, forcing you to lose your balance. Your eyes fluttered closed as you fell on your back. Kyungsoo tugged on your lip with his teeth before his tongue darted out and you caved. Your hands went around and pulled him even closer, his upper body twisted on top of yours. A small moan slipped from you, and it only made him use that much more ferocity. His soft lips bruising yours with deep, ebbing pushes and bites to suck you back in. Tongue rolling into your mouth tantalizingly. A few cheers came from beside you. The air was stifling. One of Kyungsoo's hands groped up your side. Halting just below your breast. His thumb traced the edge of your bra. He maneuvered a leg between yours so he was on top of you. Your heart raced. How far was he going to go? How far would you go? Would you let him touch you in front of eight other people? His bandmates no less? Turns out you didn't have to answer that question yet.

"Stop!" A booming voice cut through suddenly. "What the hell?!" Kyungsoo's heat left your mouth as he pulled away. Staring down at you with those daring eyes. Do it, they taunted silently. Make everyone see you're mine.

"Sorry Junmyeon," he threw over his shoulder. "I had to do that."

"Bullshit!" Jondae laughed. "But I'm not complaining."

"By all means continue," Minseok added. You didn't have to look to know he was smirking. He probably had an eyebrow raised in your direction too. Those wide, expressive eyes lurking up your body. You felt their stares turn hot on you. It wasn't just Minseok. That's when it occurred to you. The one who almost never shut up hadn't made a peep in minutes. Baekhyun. You broke from Kyungsoo's eyes to chance a look over and there he was. His gaze was heavy on you, pink lips slightly parted. Breath passed in and out at a forcibly steady rate like he was focused on it not shrinking and becoming shallow. Sitting stiffly in between Jongdae and Sehun.

Another thought passed your mind and you quickly squirmed out from under Kyungsoo. Sitting up against the wall with your knees to your chest and a strong blush coloring your face. Kyungsoo sat up as well, following your eyes to Chanyeol. He was paralyzed. Almost frightened looking. Tears gathered in his eyes. His gaze darted from your lips to Kyungsoo then back to you.

"Chanyeol, I'm so sorry." He forced a smile and shook his head clear. The corners of his mouth were going up and down like he was glitching.

"No," he replied weakly. "Don't be sorry. Why should you be sorry? You were just kissing Kyungsoo. In front of us. I should go."

"Oh come on you big baby!" Minseok whined, tugging on Chanyeol's sleeve. "We haven't even started drinking. Celebrate with us."

"Right. Drinks. That sounds really good right now."

"Yeol," Sehun called after him. Chanyeol was already emptying your liquor cabinet onto the island in the kitchen. "Maybe you're not in the best headspace for this." Kyungsoo glanced at you guiltily. "I can go back to the dorms with you if you want. I'm not a big drinker anyway."

"No," he refused as he retrieved glasses. The group began to sit in their regular places around the living room, Minseok and Yixing moving silently to help pour drinks. "What kind of best friend would I be if I abandoned Y/N like that?" His anxious energy was slowly being released. His smile less forced and twitchy. The atmosphere still needed a kick in the right direction, though.

Chanyeol was normally a hard lemonade or beer kind of guy, but that night he went straight to the vodka. He brought you a glass of the same mixed drink and clinked the cups together before drinking. You took a long swig. Chanyeol coughed, face twisting as he got down his own large gulp with difficulty. Baekhyun picked up a conversation while everyone sat down with their choice drinks. You didn't pay much attention. You were worried over Chanyeol. He continued to force down alcohol like a man who wants to forget. Whether that be the situation or his feelings you couldn't determine yet, but you would be sure to take care he doesn't get sick.

Without realizing it you had polished off three glasses in no time. Sipping whenever you felt anxious. Which turned out to be all the time. You kept an eye on your old friend as he gradually made his drinks stronger. Yours tasted more and more like vodka with each glass as well. Minseok not so subtly mentioning wanting to compete with you on who could hold their liquor better. Your fourth is when your head began feeling woozy. Not drunk, but that floaty, giggly lightness that comes with being tipsy. Normally that's when you'd stop, but that night you had something to prove.

"I'm a fantastic drinker," you boasted. Minseok smiled.

"I bet you'll be sloppy drunk way before me."

"What do I get if I win?"

"How about a favor?"

"What kind?"

"Anything you want. But if I win, I get a favor from you."

"I don't know about anything. Nothing illegal. And no sex stuff."

"Fine. Deal?"

"Deal." You bumped your glasses together and finished off your fourth drink for the night. Minseok had been keeping up with you just to propose this. The others encouraged you while Minseok refilled both of your drinks. Kyungsoo draped his arm on your shoulders from next to you on the sofa. Still on his second rum mixture.

"You know," Chanyeol spoke up. The rapper had his legs sprawled wide on the floor, sitting back against the blank wall on a pillow to cushion his ass. You lost count of his drinks after Minseok stole your attention away. "We haven't drunk together since that band camp party third year."

"Oh yeah," you recalled fondly. A laugh escaped you. "That saxophone player almost blew us all up."

"And you insisted on staying inside afterward."

"What happened?" Sehun questioned. All ears turned to you. Minseok brought your refill and sat down.

"There was a party our band had after we won competition that spring. Someone started a bonfire after it got dark, but someone else brought fireworks. It fell over right before going off and exploded inside the bonfire."

"I thought I'd shit myself!" Chanyeol barked out in laughter. You joined.

"I was so terrified. We had to fucking leap away while splinters flew everywhere! No one was hurt, but holy shit..."

"You reached a new level of drunk that night."

"There are levels?" Baekhyun asked excitedly.

"First." Chanyeol held up the corresponding amount of fingers. "The giggly bitch. Laughs at everything." As if to prove his point you giggled at his statement. "Two. Clumsy. Loss of coordination and balance. I can always tell she's starting to get drunk when she sways in place. This is usually where she stops because she doesn't want to reach peak drunk Y/N. Peak drunk Y/N is super flirty and loose."

"Oh my god," Baekhyun beamed. "Our dove is a slutty drunk!"

"Maybe a little," you admitted with a grin, making everyone laugh.

"So what was the level at the band party?" Jongdae asked.

"I'm getting there," Chanyeol replied with an amused smirk "Level four. Clingy. It doesn't matter what you're doing Y/N will want your attention and physical affection. And finally, level five. She passes out." You recall the night in question. You had actually pretended to fall asleep so he wouldn't try to have sex with you. But no amount of drinks would make you admit that to him. Because then you would have to explain how you felt after the first time. Never. Never seemed a good time for that.

"Damn," Jongin scoffed. "Which of those levels do you blackout at?"

"Somewhere in between three and four. Only did that once, though. I don't like getting drunk."

"Wake up in some assholes bed?"

"Something like that." Kyungsoo's arm slipped down to your waist and tightened around you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

"Hey!" Chanyeol yelled in mock offense. "I was not an asshole! I bought you pizza the next morning for the hangover."

"It was delicious pizza I'll give you that." He seemed satisfied with that and the conversation cleared to something Jongdae said.

It took an hour for the alcohol to catch up with you. The room swayed. Your vision processed slower. Everyone was in relatively the same state, but some hid it better. Kyungsoo for example was laughing more freely and not moving your hand from his thigh, but that was about it. At one point his fingers dug into your upper thigh, but Jongin teased him for being handsy so he stopped. While on the other spectrum Minseok was very, very flirty. Once the tongues were loosened you knew you were in trouble.

"I think you both lose," Sehun announced.

"Why?" Minseok defended.

"Because you're both sloppy."

"Am not," you replied. "I'm still perfectly aware. If anyone is sloppy it's Baekhyun."

"I'm not part of your bet," the boy called over.

"No, but you've been eye fucking me all night. At least you're usually more subtle about it."

"What?"

"Don't act innocent. I notice how you've watch Kyungsoo and me for months with those pretty eyes. You're not getting a show no matter how hard you wish for it, pervert."

"Ha!" Minseok exclaimed. "She's got you pegged!" Baekhyun's face went bright red, stammering.

"I-I do not want to watch my two friends fucking. Are you kidding me? That-that sounds s-so wrong."

"I've thought about it," the oldest shrugged with a smirk. "But Soo was the one watching."

"Careful," Kyungsoo warned.

"Although it would feed your jealous kick to fuck your precious jagi in front of us, wouldn't it?"

"Please," you scoffed in return. "Like I'd ever let any of you near me."

"Oh you wouldn't?" Minseok was challenging you again. He stood from his chair and swaggered over to the couch. Kyungsoo put his lips to your ear and murmured a low,

"Behave." It sent shivers down your spine. Then his body heat was retreating from your side. You watched Minseok intently as he stood in front of you, large eyes appraising you. That cocky, hungry look he reserved for his prey. You did your best to quell the warmth spreading through your body. It was a powerful look coming from him. Honed over the years to affect anyone on the receiving end. He plucked your drink from your hands and took a sip. His free hand popped open the top button on his shirt. You snickered at his attempt to seduce you. Minseok glared.

"Why are you laughing?"

"You look ridiculous."

"Then how would you try to get Kyungsoo's attention, miss perfect?"

"I don't have to try at all." That earned some ooh's and stifled laughter.

"How does he get yours, then?" You motioned like you were zipping your lips shut. His smirk grew. Your drink was put on the coffee table and then Minseok was bending over, hands supporting himself on your thighs. His face was inches from yours. "Does he touch you? Or maybe our cute Kyungsoo isn't so cute in the bedroom? Dirty talk? Does he call you a special name, babygirl?" Your face flushed, glancing away from his burdensome stare. "Bingo."

"What is it, Soo?" Jongdae questioned with a grin. Yixing laughed it off.

"Definitely not babygirl. I bet it's something traditional like sweetheart or darling."

"No no no," Jongin objected. "It's gotta be more sweet. Like princess." They threw out a couple more nicknames. Kyungsoo was sinking further into the cushions with embarrassment. Then Baekhyun's eyebrows shot up with a revelation.

"Oh my god," he grinned proudly. "It's sugar, isn't it? I remember overhearing Soo on the phone one time." Minseok's fingertips held tighter to your legs.

"Oh, I do remember that now. How cute." You kissed Minseok's cheek and winked. His face tinted a fetching pink.

"You're gonna need to try harder to fluster me."

"Try teasing whore," Chanyeol commented. You shot him a glare. "Trust me on this, Min. She likes it rough." His smirk returned. Minseok lifted a hand to grip your chin lightly, tilting your face up.

"Our dove is like this? Now I want to know more than ever if you're a good girl." His tongue ran over his lips. "Or are you really a dirty little slut hiding behind these clothes? Care to show me? I've always wondered what it would be like to be a mistress in an affair." How was his gaze so intoxicating? You were dizzy. It was hard to focus. His face inched closer. You narrowed your eyes. Was he actually about to try and kiss you? A new touch pulled your attention away. Kyungsoo had his hand high on your thigh. A warning. You weakly pushed on Minseok's chest. He took a step back and straightened his posture. You leaned into Kyungsoo's side, hiding your face in his neck.

"Kyungsoo," you whimpered pathetically. His palm rubbed up and down your thigh sensually. The simple touch had heat rising in your body. You squeezed your legs together tightly. You wanted those fingers inside you. Not massaging your thigh. It was getting harder to think about anything else. The desire was clouding your mind.

"She's mine," he declared calmly. "That's all you need to know." You dragged a heavy palm down the center of Kyungsoo's chest, stopping just above his jeans. Those tight, sinful jeans.

"His," you breathed softly. To the point you weren't even sure Kyungsoo heard it.

"Enough teasing Minseok," Jongin brushed off. "You know it's hard to tell when you're joking." Their words drowned out after that. The only thing you could think of was how good it felt being pressed against Kyungsoo. How swimmy your head was. How delicious he smelled. How every time you shifted your clothes rubbed on your body and made it uncomfortable. It was too hot in this damn apartment. He must be dying to get out of those boiling pants. Like you were dying to have his fingers in you. Kyungsoo would fix it, you thought. Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo...

The body under you stiffened. Your hand was moved, and you looked up. Kyungsoo had this bewildered, scandalized look twisting his features. You blinked slowly, not comprehending.

"I take it back," Sehun spoke. "Y/N loses. She is clearly off her face."

"What'd I do?" you whined. "Kyungsoo?"

"Holy shit Chanyeol," Baekhyun snickered. "You weren't kidding at all." Whatever. It must not matter. You bunched Kyungsoo's shirt in your hand and squirmed, lips going to the crook of his neck.

"Play with me," you whispered hotly. "I'm so wet already for you. Fuck you're sexy..."

"This is so unfair," Minseok piped up. The sofa dipped beside you, but you refused to acknowledge it. Not when Kyungsoo's long, slender neck kept tempting you to mark it. "Why do I have to try so hard to get womens' attention? Kyungsoo spent an hour with Y/N when they met and now they're in love!"

"Bitter much?" Jongdae teased.

"Maybe if you weren't such a playboy," the leader muttered. "People see through that, you know." Something pushed on your shoulders, forcing your lips from Kyungsoo's skin. Any other comments or conversations the others were having passed over your head. He was so utterly stunning. Dark brown eyes, thick eyebrows, soft nose, supple pink lips, defined jaw.

"I think it's time to get you to bed," he said sternly. "Come on, jagi." When he stood he grabbed your hand and you followed blindly. He stopped at the kitchen sink to fill a cup. Once his hand left yours you clung to his shoulders for balance. Your fingers wandered around his waist. Your core throbbed with need. You wanted him in a bad way. Anything to quell the ache between your legs. Your fingers reached for the button on his pants. He gasped and jumped, slapping your hands away. "I told you to behave," he growled lowly. You snagged your lip with your teeth. He turned to face you, setting the glass of water aside. You grappled to his shirt, pressing your bodies closer.

"How can I when all I want is you fucking me until I can't walk? Kyungsoo~" You knew you sounded petulant, but you didn't care. You rested your head on his chest. "I want you so much it hurts. Please stay with me."

"Maybe you should be good then, or is it past time for a punishment?" Your restless hands went up so your arms were around his neck.

"Make it hurt."

"You're impossible in this state," he grumbled. Kyungsoo forced you off him. "Get in bed. I'll be there as soon as I can, sugar." That sounded like a promise. You beamed. "But drink this before you go." He held out the water. You nodded and gulped down the entire glass. Then you obediently turned and wished the rest of the boys goodnight. They all waved and were polite as could be. All the escapades of the night forgotten already.

"Hey dove," Baekhyun cooed. "I'm sorry for staring so much. I don't mean it in a wrong way." You went over and pushed his bangs aside, kissing his forehead.

"I know, Baekkie. You're so sweet. Sleep well." Your fingers combed through his locks one more time. "You have really soft hair."

"Enjoy your night with Soo," he whispered back with a wink. You giggled and went to your shared room. Enjoy it you would. The first step in doing that: removing all of your uncomfortable clothes.

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jamlessflowerboys-blog · 7 years

Text

BTS Imagines || Horeumon Ttaemune - Hyung Line

NAMJOON -

After a long day of work last night, you sleepily were in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready for Namjoon and yourself. You were flipping the pancakes with a spatula, but it got caught on the side of the pan. Stupidly half-asleep, you use your fingers to flip it over, as a consequence, burning your index finger tip. You let out a hiss from your lips.

You feel arms snake around your waist, while you continue on with your cooking.

``Morning gorgeous.`` Namjoon greeted in his raspy, morning voice.

``Morning handsome.`` You reply, keeping focused on the job at hand.

``Your finger’s red.`` He pointed out, lifting your idle hand, resting on the counter.

``Yeah... I burned it.``

Unaware of your injured hand, you felt a wet sensation sucking at your fingertip.

You quickly retract your finger back from the sensation and turn to face Namjoon. He had a sly smirk on his face.

``What?``

``What the hell was that for?`` Your back was facing towards the stove dangerously.

Namjoon reached his hand around the small of your back and turned off the stove knob, his eyes still holding your gaze.

``How the hell does someone look so beautiful in the morning?`` He licks his top lip lightly, his hand resting agains your back. You didn’t believe him. You were in a baggy shirt with only your underwear and a messy bun. If that was beautiful, he might need to get his eyes checked. You put your hands on his chest ready to push him away, but he was one step ahead. Namjoon suddenly crashed his lips to yours, hungrily attacking your lips.

You let out a surprised gasp, as he picks you up by the thighs and sits you onto the opposite kitchen counter. Your hands could only find their way to his hair, tugging on in slightly, earning a groan from him.

``Fuck.`` He hissed through his teeth. He introduced a sneaky tongue, causing you to moan in response.

His hand dipped down and under your shirt to your bare thighs. You nibble on his lower lip as he does so, feeling him smile slightly.

``You really have a knack for surprising me in the morning.`` You mumble against his lips.

``Yeah, well I can’t help it if--`` Your doorbell rings, making the both of you jump back in surprise. Namjoon fixes his hair. ``Who’s that?``

You hop off the counter, pressing together your swollen lips.

``I, uh... might have invited Taehyung and Jimin over for breakfast.``

HOSEOK -

You joined the boys for a celebratory dinner for their attendance to the Billboard Music Awards. Hoseok was looking especially handsome, in a baby blue button up, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, and black dress pants with some fancy Gucci shoes that Taehyung bought him.

You were wearing a cute black skater dress with red heels to compliment it, sitting next to Hoseok comfortably. The table was round and you were between Hobi and Jungkook. You sat slightly more closer to Hoseok as he was your boyfriend obviously.

During the dinner, Hobi kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes always averting from you when you looked his way.

``Hobi are you okay?`` You placed a hand on his. He nods and gives you a reassuring smile.

You continue to enjoy your meal, as did the other, making small conversation among yourselves.

Suddenly a hand is felt on your bare thigh. You sit up straight in your seat in response with it. Your eyes quickly glance down to see Hoseok’s hand as the culprit. You look at him with a weird expression. He doesn’t meet your eyes although -- he ate his food with his chopsticks in his other hand.

You shrugged it off, still devouring your steak, until his hand slid slightly higher up your thigh. You almost jump from your seat and your head snaps towards Hobi. You lightly raise your leg to hint him, but his hand stays put. You elbow him in his arm and he looks at you with an innocent face.

``Yah, Hobi.`` You hiss, while everyone was distracted talking to each other.

``Did I tell you, you look so sexy tonight, sweetness?`` He response with a sly smile.

Jungkook gags beside you.

``Save it for the bedroom you two.`` Jimin comments smugly. You glare at Jimin and unintentionally stab your food with your fork.

Hobi chuckles darkly beside you while you click your teeth in frustration. Your thighs rubbed together in an anxious manner. His hand slipped between your thighs and travelled up just the slightest bit higher, almost to your panties. You suppress a squeak.

``Y/N.`` You shudder at the table as Jin calls your name.

``Y-Yeah? Sorry.``

``I was saying, how are you going to get home tonight. I can take you and Hoseok with me to drop you home if you’d like.``

``U-Uh, that’s o-okay I w--.`` A faint but noticeable stroke was felt against your covered entrance. ``--AS GOING TO TAKE... a cab home...`` You put a hand over Hoseok’s forearm, squeezing it slightly.

A snicker is heard from Hobi’s end at your reply to Jin.

``Uh... okay?`` Jin raises his brow at you as Namjoon and Yoongi only laugh.

You flush pink in embarrassment. What was Hoseok doing?! He began to draw circles on the slightly dampened fabric. Did he honestly think this was gonna end well?

``So how’s your sister been Y/N?`` Taehyung questions. God, you did not need this right now.

``Shhh...hhhe’sss great! ThAnKs FoR ASkinG!`` You bite your lip. Jungkook gives you a weird look. You feel air brush against bare skin and you stand up suddenly, scaring everyone.

``I... need to go to the bathroom!`` Everyone exchanges odd looks except for Hoseok who can only smile innocently as you walk away.

YOONGI -

Yoongi was composing a song for you, but he wouldn’t give you a preview until it was done and you were dripping with curiosity to hear just a snippet, so while he was watching television in the lounge room, you snuck into his studio and closed the door quietly. You hurriedly clicked through his files, trying to figure out what he would call the song. Soft footsteps could be heard from outside of the hallway and you frantically begged the file to jump out at you. It was kinda a hard task considering that his desktop was messy and piled with so many files.

Silence in the hallway. Your shoulders somewhat relaxed as you clicked furiously. The door swung open, revealing a slightly unimpressed boyfriend.

``What are you doing?`` He states coldly. You spun to face him in his computer chair and tapped your nails nervously on the arm rests.

``Well... I was... just looking for... uh...``

``You were looking for the song, weren’t you?`` Weirdly, his lips curve upwards in a smirk. You furrow your brows in confusion.

``Yeah...``

He closes the door behind him, a click of the lock filling the silence of the room. Yoongi shoos you out of his chair as you stand up quickly from it and he sits down in it, looking through his computer. He clicks a file called ‘Instrum_Y/N.mp3.’ Duh. A soft, sensual tune begins to play from the speakers. Was this the song? It sounded... like something from Fifty Shades of Grey.

Yoongi turns to you, standing there like a statue. ``Come closer.`` He demands. You feel a lump in your throat form. You do as your told, taking a few steps closer to him. ``Bend down level to me.``

You comply again, lowering your self to his level, bending at the hip.

``You’re so sneaky~`` He says with a low, mocking tone. You couldn’t help but feel a tingling sensation in your stomach. This song was adding to the situation at hand.

He cups your face and slowly pulls you in, his soft, small petal-like lips melding with yours. He suckles at your bottom lip, making you shudder. Yoongi reaches for your waist, still holding the kiss, and brings you towards him and pats his knees for you to notice. You lift your legs up and rest both knees on either side of his waist, your bottom lingering over his area. You kept your hands on the back of his neck and one of his cheeks as he trailed his tongue sloppily across your bottom lip and down along your jawline.

``Yoongi...`` You say breathlessly. You weren’t even at that stage and this man had you panting as if your life depended on it.

``Yeah?``

``Can we... move somewhere more spacious...?`` You suggest. He detaches his tongue from your neck and pulls back.

``Of course.``

SEOKJIN -

You watch backstage as Jin rehearses hard for their performance tonight.The boys were glistening with sweat as they came off for a break.

``You guys did so well!`` You applaud them. They all exchange smiles with you as Jin stops in front of you. His bangs clung to his sweaty forehead in a very attractive manner. You had just arrived backstage so he wasn’t expecting you. He looked at you from head to toe.

``What are you wearing?`` He asks in a suspicious tone.

You were wearing a black slim fitting skirt which was down to above your knees and a wine red long sleeve top, stopping just above your belly button.

``Uh, clothes?`` You reply sarcastically.

He grunts in response. ``Princess, there are obviously lots of guys here and they’re going to look at you.``

``Is my baby being overprotective?`` You pinch his dampened cheeks. He sighs and grabs your hand, pulling you in to kiss your cheek. Jin pulls away, only to hold you in his gaze. Something seemed off about the look he gave you, it wasn’t loving, nor was it upset. His eyes were slightly dilated and narrowed.

``Jin are you--``

```Come with me.`` He grabs you by the wrist somewhat harshly, surprising you. He wasn never this intense with you before, rather sweet and caring. He opens the control room. The people in charge were also on break, as the room was dead empty. He pulls you inside and shuts the door behind him.

``Uhm. What’s going on...?`` A slightl nervousness could be heard in your voice. Were you in trouble?

``Y/N. You don’t just come to rehearsals dressed like this and expect a man not to fawn over you.`` He strides closer to you, causing you to step back. Your back reaches the controls panel, restricting you from escaping any further.

``Seokjin... I don’t think we should be doing this in here... or at all really...``

Jin places his arms on either side of your small frame and leans in, his hot, minty breath intoxicating your senses. Your eyes land on his plush lips and your mouth part open in a subtle way. His pressed his lips to yours gently. Your spine shivers at the softness of his lips as you awkwardly rest your hands on his broad chest. His legs close around yours, completely encasing you with his body. He modestly runs his tongue on your lower lip, begging to go further. You let him proceed as he deepens the kiss. He slowly allowed to to rest on the sound board, so you were somewhat laying down. His left hand slides between your thighs and your body shoot up the sound board in shock, feeling your shoulder hit a switch. Unaware of this, you pull his shirt down to you, so his chest was against yours and your arms snaked around his neck. His hand lightly caressed your thigh as you let you a small moan.

Meanwhile... backstage.

``Where could Jin-hyung and Y/N have gone off to?`` Hoseok asked, taking a swig of his water.

``Maybe they went to grab something to each quickly. You know how those two are.`` Jimin chuckles.

Suddenly the overhead speaker let out a crackle, indicating that they were turned on. A few staff members turns their heads to the speakers in confusion, as did Namjoon and Yoongi.

ALthough quiet, a feminine moan resonated from the speakers. Jungkook spar his drink out in surprise and Taehyung and Jimin looked at each other with wide eyes. The three eldest stood up as fast as lightning.

``Well... now we know they aren’t getting food.``

Sorry I’ve.been absent for a while, school exams and assignments got me like >.>

I feel so sinful omg Lord please wash my sins away

CAN YOU BELIEVE OUR BOYS WON BBMAs SOCIAL ARTIST?

#bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #seokjin #namjoon #hoseok #yoongi #suga #jhope #jin #rap monster #jeongguk #jungkook #jimin #taehyung #bts imagines #bts smut #bts scenarios

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