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bluedalahorse · 1 year

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a personal post about my aromanticism and loving fanfic

So I’m aromantic and asexual and I’m having a moment of introspection. (I’m also procrastinating, to be fair.) I’m going to share my thoughts just to get them down. Maybe this will resonate with you or maybe it won’t. I’m also not sure what the solution is or if I should be looking for one. Who knows?

There’s something you see in aromantic (and aroace) discourse on fanfic and ‘shipping culture, where you have one aro argument that’s like “I’m aro and have no interest in reading about romantic relationships whatsoever; I wish fandom wrote more gen and was less ‘shipping focused.” And then there’s the polar opposite argument, which is “I’m aro and I adore ‘shipping characters and reading about romantic relationships; it’s nice to read about other characters having those feelings even if I would never want or feel that kind of thing in my life.”

I want to address a sort of middle ground. I think I trend toward the “aro who ‘ships my faves and likes a well-executed romance in a story” category, but I’m gonna qualify that. If I’m reading something with a romantic pairing—whether the pairing appears in the story as a part of it or takes absolute center stage—I want the characters outside the pairing to feel three-dimensional and real and have their own unique relationships to the characters in the pairing. Nothing irks me more than say, a BFF or sibling or family member character, who has a complex and lore-filled relationship to one of the romantic leads in canon, getting reduced to a cheerleader puppet who only talks about the main romantic pairing and how great they are. Honor siblings and other family members with side plots. Let BFFs have absolutely shitty days once in a while, so that OTP Person A calls up OTP Person B and says, “Sorry I have to cancel our date tonight, BFF had a shitty day and I gotta be there for them.” And then we get to spend some fanfic time with OTP Person A and their friend in a way that enriches and adds to the overall story.

Going into an example in more depth below, using a canon I haven’t talked about yet…

Note: I am gonna talk positively about Heartstopper for a moment, but it is merely as an example. A lot of what I say about Heartstopper can be applied to other canons and fandoms, so please try to understand it as an illustration of something broader rather than its own particular thing.

Balancing relationship types is one thing the show Heartstopper does really well, in my mind. Nick and Charlie’s romance is of course the heart of the plot, but each of them has other significant relationships in their life. Nick’s mom supports Nick in his dating life, but you get a sense of the depth and history of their mother-son relationship, and they aren’t always fawning about Nick and Charlie’s relationship together. Sometimes they’re watching pirate movies! Meanwhile Charlie and Tao have some serious platonic BFF heartache when Charlie and Nick become romantically involved—but they also work through it and continue to be really important friends to each other. The narrative suggests that maybe Tao could be a little less overtly cranky with Nick, but it never shames him or portrays him as inappropriate or immature for worrying about Charlie getting into a significant romantic relationship. Tao has valid reasons for feeling the way he does—he doesn’t want Charlie to get hurt after what happened with Ben, and Tao doesn’t want to be left behind himself.

Tao’s story would have been so valuable for me to see as an aromantic teenager (who didn’t have the word aromantic to describe myself) who was always worried that my friends were going to leave me and I was going to end up alone. I would have known that it was normal and not a sign of immaturity to feel sad and fearful when my friends started dating and had these new relationships they were fluttery about. I would have had scripts for talking through my feelings with my friends and reaffirming our friendship with one another. As it was, I turned a lot of negative feelings inward on myself, and I tried often to push people away before they could push me away. I think if I’d had more characters in my life like Tao and Charlie, it would have done me good. (And no, Tao isn’t aromantic, but that’s important in its own way. Alloromantics also deserve complex friendships in their lives that provide support for them but also require an investment in time and attention! Allos are allowed to care about their friendships too!)

—also like. Tao has stuff going on his life that doesn’t relate to Nick/Charlie. He loves movies! To the point of having obnoxious opinions. He hates the MCU and also sports. (Same.) He’s developing a crush on Elle. He’s at the age where his mom is a little embarrassing and tells him to leave the door of his room open. He comes up with verbal comebacks when he’s being bullied because he doesn’t like bullies but he also doesn’t like physical fighting. He’s got ridiculous hair and a hat. We could probably get more even depth to his character but like, when he’s in a scene he feels real to me. Not like a cardboard cutout.

Now, I enjoy Heartstopper’s canon a lot. I’ve never read a fic for it. I have written some fic for Heartstopper (that I really need to finish.) Part of the reason I haven’t gone deeper into the Heartstopper section on AO3 is I really value that canon dynamic where friendships and romances feel balanced and the secondary characters feel like they have a three-dimensional existence outside of the Nick/Charlie main pairing, and I want that balance in a fic, too. I’m a little worried that if I do go looking, there’s going to be a lot where romance overwhelms a story that I already feel has this good balance of romance and not-romance.

But I’m not sure how to search or filter for the balance I want. Moving away from Heartstopper specifically (because like I said, I haven’t gone into the Heartstopper section on AO3) sometimes I’ll be looking for fics in a fandom, and I’ll try try to look up character study for a secondary character, or something from a secondary character’s POV. Secondary characters are often my favorite characters in a canon. But that’s no guarantee that the fic isn’t going to be 150% centered on a romance. It’s common to see fics where it’s a main pairing/more popular pairing through that secondary character’s eyes, or the secondary character will be involved in a romance of their own and the fic will be overwhelmed by that romance.

Every time I try to bring this up to another human, I get story recommendations like…

Here, do you want this story with no romance in it whatsoever, like we’re not even acknowledging that anyone could have romantic feelings, to the point where things feel kinda borderline queerphobic? (Most of the canons I like have multiple queer characters and queer romances, but also lots of friendships between queer people.)

Here, do you want this story where the romance is very sweet at all times and there is zero conflict and zero sex? (Conflict and sex are not the problem, my friend. They are not the thing I’m trying to get rid of.)

Here, do you want this story that purports to be centered on a friendship or family relationship for one of the members of the OTP, but it’s just a family member or friend fawning over how much they love the OTP and think they’re sooooo sweet and romantic?

None of which is what I’m actually looking for. Like, how do you filter for fanfic that isn’t really strict genfic but also doesn’t feel 150% centered on a main pairing gazing into one another’s eyes all the time? Maybe there’s an obvious way to search for it and I’m just missing it. This is why I wish AO3 had a way of distinguishing between “this pairing (romantic or not) is one of the central focuses of the fic” and “this pairing shows up in the fic and feels like an organic part of the universe but the writing isn’t overwhelmed by it.”

Fandom tends to foreground sex and romance in fanfic and fanart and meta, which is one of the things I find joyful and at times a little bit subversive about fandom. Like, I genuinely love us! I have had so many OTPs! I have done some very enthusiastic and strange things in my life because of ‘ships! And, at the same time, it can get overwhelming when some of my favorite secondary characters are depicted as purely ancillary to a romance between romantic leads in a story, or if the protagonist of a fic has nothing in their life that isn't somehow partner-involved. Like… we can have romantic stories where this isn’t the case. Right? I’m not making this up?

In conclusion, I don't want romantic love to conquer all. Instead I want to stop thinking of romantic love in terms of conquest, and start thinking of it in terms of coexistence with other loves.

Some notes that I couldn’t work into the structure of this post, but am just adding at the bottom in bullet points:

One of my favorite tropes in media doesn’t really have a name, but it’s when the best friend character and the love interest character find out they have a ton in common, and end up using that knowledge to team up and (lovingly) mess with the protagonist. More of that please!

I wonder to what extent this shapes my interest in problematic/fraught pairings in a canon (coughsargustcough) because those stories by their nature necessitate the weighing of different types of love against one another and ask the protagonist to carefully consider their values re: relationships. The thing is that in a problematic/fraught relationship the results of this weighing are almost always gonna be tragic. But I think more functional, less fraught pairings—the kind you root for to stay together instead of enjoying as something that leads to a glorious trainwreck breakup—could also benefit from this weighing of relationships and values. Because those negotiations between relationships don’t always have to be tragic. Most humans who have romantic partners can also have friends and family and colleagues they value. Those processes of balancing out the people in your life are part of being human and existing among other humans.

I wonder what extent this has been shaped by a shift over the years in genres I enjoy. I used to be much more into tracking like, Big Genre Stuff (think Doctor Who) but now I’ve gotten more interested in stories focused on interpersonal dynamics and characters coming to understand their own identities in relation to all the people around them. I used to be able to look for like, “casefic” for a procedural show and get a balance of kissing and crime solving I enjoy. Also in Les Mis fandom I somehow found the people who wrote the right balance of romance, friendship, and extremely nerdy historical puns + footnotes, so that was awesome. But like… in canons already focused on interpersonal relationships, how do you ask for more interpersonal relationships? Or calibrate the right balance of interpersonal relationship types using the AO3 search and tagging system?

This feels really complicated when I weigh my aromantic queer identity against others’ more allromantic queer identities, because I know that seeing all the romancey things (first dates! kisses! anniversary gifts!) represented for their pairings can be really empowering and helpful and full of joy. I know that “care more about platonic friendship!” can be weaponized as a microaggression when homophobic people use it against queer people ‘shipping queer ‘ships, so I don’t wanna come across that way. At the same time I’ve also struggled with amatonormativity in queer spaces, even when I’ve found that queer people on the whole tend to value friendship a lot more than straight people. So like, rest assured, I would like to see the cute romantic anniversary gifts happen too! I really would. IT’S CUTE. I just wanna see that balanced out against like, best friend characters who feel like real people and have their own stuff going on, even when they support a fic’s lovey-dovey protagonist. Does any of this make sense or am I just rambling at this point?

Oh, Blue. Write the fanfic you want to see in the world! Doing that already. Doing my best, anyway. Still wish I knew how to find more of the fics I was looking for.

#not tagging this because it’s just personal nonsense

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ajoytobeheld · 6 months

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Wrestling the dollhouse (Spoilers!)

March 20th, 2009

I watched The Wrestler last night in my continuing bid to see the entire resume of Darren Aronofsky on this tour, I started with Pi in the first week, and although I appreciated its skewed vision of maths and it’s painful depiction of a migraine I thought it was a little bit up its own bottom.

I much preferred The Fountain, as for all its wonderful flaws it is far less pretentious then his previous effort and one of the most beautiful love stories told in recent times. I felt like The Wrestler fell somewhere between these two, the whole film was wonderfully casual in its approach, it didn’t need to subject the viewer to emotional manipulation via torture of its main star (Like he did with Ellen Burstyn in Requiem), the camera kind of just sat back and let Rourke exist in this role, showing his strengths and his weaknesses without hammering home any particular message about his personality.

It was subtle and naturalistic, so conclusions were the easier and more honest to come to, sort of like a documentary I guess… it made you believe in this man’s passion for Wrestling, which is a subject I know nothing about but it was an interesting glimpse into this obscure world. It took skill on the films part to keep you focused on something rather left field for the average audience goer, and it took bravery for Aronofsky to show the more gristly parts of this particular profession (staples gun in a match anyone?)

But he didn’t show these elements for shock value, or to satisfy a morbid curiousity, it was completing a portrait of admiration for someone who put himself through physical and emotional torture for a passion. Also Marisa Tomei was outstanding as the aging stripper, and their wasn’t too much of a push for a convenient romantic relationship between the two of them, more of a mutual understanding of how their bodies were preventing them reaching their dreams (hers was to raise money for a house not to win a stripping comp or anything.)

Although the fact that Randy “The Ram’s” career had taken a nose dive it could have been more heart breaking, Aronofsky chose to take the focus off that (because it was a given) and instead show how Randy just wanted to wrestle to his fans, no matter how many of them were there…

hmmmm I am rubbish at trying to explain what I think makes a good film to me, but bascially I tend to focus on what the film didn’t but could have easily have done…

Now onto what didn’t work for me.

There were some elements of hollywood sheen present within it, such as on the father-daughter relationship which was a little bit cheesy and kind of just shoved in, although Evan “I’m really gorgeous” Rachael Wood has been dissed for her part in it, the fault lies with the under developed and badly written role. She does the best she can with it. The second problem I had was with the ending

SPOILER ALERT

I thought it was a little bit too convenient that his heart attack would erupt and kill him at the same time as his final move in his “last match,” I felt like it was at odds with the realism of the rest of the film, and of course he died at the end, the whole set up was not meant to make you think otherwise… that irritated me slightly. I didn’t want him to live, and I didn’t want a happy hollywood ending, but this seemed a little obvious…

But it is better then a lot of hollywood fare out their currently, and it is commendable that a film which normally would slip under the radar or become a sleeper hit got this level of recognition (and more importantly revenue.) Although Marley and Me is coming out soon and a million people will probably go and see that so….In short it was a intelligent, well made and (in part) depressing film on an unconventional but universal subject, the idea of not giving up on your passions in life…

In another note I watched a bit of the second episode of Doll House, and it made me lol, not only is Helo chewing scenery with Badger/Romo Lampkin but look yonder, its Fred! How am I meant to take this show seriously? Especially as none of the characters seem to have that Whedon charisma, I mean I love Faith…I mean Eliza, but Echo seems a bit… rubbish. I shall give it time.

#2009 #lc!blog

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discyours · 1 year

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theguardian com/lifeandstyle/2023/feb/15/you-dont-have-to-be-young-to-build-muscle-how-women-are-breaking-fitness-taboos/ this article made me think of you and your critiques of aestheticobsessed female fitness, hope you enjoy the read

Not a huge fan tbh.

When 50-year-old Anna Jenkins, the founder of We Are Fit Attitude (Wafa), a woman-only health and fitness club, looked online for images of older women exercising, she was irritated by the pitiful size of the weights: the stock image is of a woman with grey hair lifting a 1kg weight, as if doing so were some kind of milestone.

My grandma attends a fitness club for the elderly, and they have a range of lighter weights from 0.5 to I think 5kg (although she's said nobody in the group goes up that high). I own some 1.5 kg weights myself. These types of weights aren't meant as Big Heavy Things that you lift up as an inherent accomplishment. They're a good way to basically just add a little weight while you stretch your muscles. And most exercise for the elderly is mainly aimed at maintaining flexibility and range of motion moreso than building significant muscle strength, because while both are important the first one is the main thing that really starts to limit quality of life as you age.

If fitness imagery of the young is all about aspiration – six packs, muscle definition and impossible body fat percentages – fitness imagery of older people is almost anti-aspirational. Its message is: “You probably can’t do anything at all, but look over here, there’s a lady managing this tiny thing.”

Jenkins runs the Wafa classes remotely and in person for women ranging from their late 30s to their mid-70s. One Saturday, at a class in Merton, south London, they decided to create a new set of photos, repopulate the ecosystem of stock photographs, so that when you search for “older women exercising”, you will be able to see what that really looks like. “These are proper weights,” says Annette Hinds, 60. “We’re not pussyfooting about.”

I get that the whole point of the article is that older women can still be competitive and engage in exercise in a way that they aren't usually expected to, but this just feels weirdly negative and like an attempt to compete with people who never asked for it. A stock photo of an older woman lifting a lighter weight, which is used in a range of helpful exercises, is not trying to tell you "you probably can't do anything at all". Nor is that type of exercise "pussyfooting about". If you want to focus on strength training then by all means go ahead, it absolutely has benefits including some particular benefits in maintaining bone density after menopause, as is pointed out in the article. The superiority complex just feels unecessary.

Palmer’s daughter paid her a compliment on her butt the other day: “She said it wasn’t flat like a lot of women my age.” Downward comparison is very motivating, and it is also fun to watch when people are so unabashed about it.

Yawn. Way to promote non aesthetic focused exercise. Menopause affects fat distribution and it's completely normal for it to make your butt flatter. It's not a mark of shame or an indication that you don't exercise enough.

#anon

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moemoemammon · 3 years

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Sorry, my English is not good, but if it's alright can I ask for some fluff head canon for beel, belphie, asmo and mammon or just one if fine if your feeling tired and not good today :) if its just one please do Asmo, and the headcanon I want is for them just getting there hair brushed or braided, female reader or gender neutral is fine I AM SO SORRY MY ENGLISH IS UGLY. But please can I have some hair fluff :3

Brushing the Bros' Hair!

(Feat GN!MC, and the Demon Bros)

I just went ahead and did em all lmao

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

Lucifer has his softer moments when he's especially weak to you, more specifically your touch. So when you ask to brush his hair, he doesn't refuse.

It's the ultimate stress relief and he melts under your touch every time your fingers brush along his scalp. He's nearly forgotten about the brush tbh

He lets out a long sigh, clearly content. He'll have to treat you to dinner as a thanks. It's almost like you sensed how stressed he was, or maybe you saw the pile of papers on his desk when you passed his room.

Either way, you being here is much appreciated. An old man like him finds joy in the little things. But don't comment on his greys-

"Thank you, MC. I enjoy the time we spend together like this. It's odd to be the one that's tended to for once, but... I can't say that I dislike it when it comes from you."

Mammon

At this point, Mammon basically makes you brush his hair.

It's become something of a routine between the two of you, where he'll get out of the shower and finish blow drying it, and lets you take care of all the brushing.

A busy man like The Great Mammon doesn't have time for such trivial things! Besides, he sorta likes the way you do it, and it's nice to feel your hands in his hair, and...

What're you staring for? Get to it! He's already taken a seat on the bed, so you should know what he wants without making him say it, right?

"..............." It's not that he doesn't have anything to say, but rather, the moment the brush touches his head he's silent. He's melting into your touch like an overgrown house cat. Is that purring you hear?

Levi

Once you get past the whole "yucky otaku" thing, and his general aversion to being cute with you, he finds that he actually likes having his hair brushed!

You can guess that his schedule doesn't allow a lot of time for self care, so it's a big help when you'll do it for him.

Did he mention how nice it feels?? It's like he's the only person in the world when you smooth his hair back, delicately brushing every strand. He might end up getting addicted to this...

It's almost become a normal thing where you'll do it while he games, so he's intently focused on the screen until you "accidentally" brush against his ear.

"H-Hey! Be careful with that, will you?? The brushing help me focus, but I can't concentrate if you mess with me! If you're teasing me, I'll get you back..!"

Satan

Surprisingly, he actually lets you brush his hair! Satan's not the cuddly type, but when it comes to little romantic things like this, he's all for it.

He'll seat himself patiently and let you brush his hair while he reads, finding it even easier to get lost in the pages. Sometimes you can sneak up on him and just brush his hair while he's not paying attention, and he won't even notice until you stop.

THEN he gets all embarrassed about it, trying to deflect and act like he wasn't just thoughtfully leaning into your hand like a cat nuzzling for affection.

He can't hide from you, though. You swear he was about to pull you even closer while you were brushing his hair, so it's obvious he liked it. Conveniently keeps placing his hairbrush out in the open from then on.

"I can't help that if feels nice, can I? It's so relaxing, I'm almost afraid I'll become addicted. If that happens, will you take responsibility?"

Asmo

Asmodeus is very particular about who and what touches his hair, so you can guarantee that he practically trained you on how to do it. You're like a certified hairdresser at this rate! From curls to ombré dye jobs, you can practically do it all

And Asmo is spoiled so he'll pester you every chance he gets to have you brush his hair. He'll also whine about it should you decline, and do everything in his power to guilt you. He just manicured his nails so he can't do it himself, MC! 🥺

Asmo's especially receptive to your touch, and he tends to move around a LOT. It's because he's so excited he can barely sit still! He keeps trying to turn around to kiss you, so the process takes forever.

He makes it sound like it's a privilege to do, as if you're enjoying it more than he is, and he'll definitely thank you for your hard work~

"My hair is the silkiest you've ever felt, am I right? I'll show you all the products I use to achieve this flawless perfection! Make sure you appreciate every strand, okay~?"

Beel

Initially confused when you strolled up with a brush, but he's going to be sitting for a while since he's eating, so it’s fine.

But never did he think having his hair brushed by someone else would be so amazing.... Like, it took him a little while to get into it, but when you really start working out the little tangles, he's hooked.

Beel doesn't do anything special to keep up his appearance. He has to be reminded to get a haircut sometimes, so things like this are beyond him. But its become a ritual for him to ask you to brush his hair in the morning.

LOVES it. This big ol teddy bear rests his cheek against your thigh the whole time, and you swear you can hear some kind of rumbling sound coming from him-

"Do you mind doing this before my Fangol games? Um.... It's like a good luck charm for me, I think. It makes me think of you, and I feel like I can win no matter what."

Belphie

This is all Belphie, the epitome of laziness, has ever wanted.

He loves anything you do to his hair, whether that's brushing or combing it, washing or drying it, patting it or running your fingers through...

It's like it's his weakness, and almost always has him nodding off. Is it really okay for the youngest to be spoiled so much? You're gonna make him even more rotten than he is.

Though like Mammon, he also chases you down with a hairbrush in hand, so it's not like you have much of a choice.

"My hair is soft, isn't it? It's all thanks to you brushing it everyday. I feel like I can sleep much better lately because of you. Though... that might be because that tangle in the back is gone."

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sargeant-bxrnes · 3 years

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1 step forward, 3 steps back.

warnings: rafe being… rafe. drug mention & consumption, cursing, toxic relationship, sexual situations/implications, mental health issues. ANGST.

[AN: this is the first thing i’ve written, ever, so my apologies if it’s not flawless ; also, english is not my first language, that’s a warning on its own]

my requests are open btw

click for my master list

word count: 4.4K

Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

“Hey,” you said in a soft tone as soon as Rafe picked up the phone, you were laying down on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey princess,” his tone was calm, but his voice was rough and raspy all together.

“How you doing?” you asked him, even though you’d seen him last night, up close.

“I’m doing great,” he replied in a surprisingly cheerful tone, which is weird this early in the morning. Rafe is not a morning person. “You sound tired.”

“I am tired,” you confirmed with a sigh. “Guess I have you to thank for that.”

“My pleasure.” he replied cockily, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically hear his proud smirk.

“So, what’s the plan today?” you asked in a casual tone, fidgeting with the edge of Rafe’s shirt, the one you wore to sleep.

“Uh, what do you mean?” he asked in a distracted tone, he sniffed subtly and coughed.

You knew what that meant, but still, you hoped it wasn’t what you deep down knew it was.

“Yeah, I mean—“ you said and made a brief pause. “Wanna go to the club? Maybe we can take a ride on the boat, you know, with food, alcohol... just us.”

“Can’t, I’m busy.” he said after a few seconds, if you didn’t know him better and his occasional mood swings, you would’ve said his tone was harsh.

"Really?" you asked in a soft tone, trying to disguise your disappointment with interest. "But I thought we were going out together today."

"Y/N, just because I'm your boyfriend it doesn't mean I have to be with you all the fucking time."

Okay, now he was definitely angry, you thought you said the right thing, but it still made him angry.

"Rafe-"

"No, Y/N. I have a life of my own, you know? Things to do besides you."

“That’s okay Rafe, I get it,” You said calmly, nodding your head softly. “Have fun today.”

Now you clearly heard the sound of him sniffing something and the sigh that left his lips after, and Barry’s voice in the background. “Don’t play the victim card on me, that’s not gonna work. I deserve to have some time off.”

“I didn’t,” you said softly. “And it’s okay baby, you’re right, you deserve to have some fun.”

“See? No need to be so fucking dramatic,” he said, his voice and words slurring. You? Dramatic? It was all him. “But don’t worry princess, I’ll drop by tonight and fuck the attitude out of you, yeah? That way I’m not just doing things with you, I’m doing you.”

And with such a vulgar comment and a harsh tone, Rafe hung up on you, leaving you completely dumbfounded and filled with incredulity.

What you did know for a fact, is that he would keep up his word. And judging by his tone of voice and how annoyed he was, you could already imagine the ache between your legs.

You got me fucked up in the head, boy

Never doubted myself so much

Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy?

I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you started hooking up with Rafe, and what you were committing to when you agreed to be his girlfriend.

You know that man carries more problems than he shows, he prefers to make himself appear as the Kook prince who lives a life of partying and money; hiding all the things that were going on in his head.

However, there were times when his attitude made you doubt yourself.

You couldn't help but think, ‘What if one day I don't manage to calm him down?’ ‘What if one day he realizes that there is someone prettier, or hotter, or wealthier out there?’

And Rafe would get angry if you doubted yourself. He would complain to you about it, saying you had no reason to be insecure about your looks; if you are absolutely gorgeous, or to feel insecure about your personality; if you were the most genuine person he'd ever met, and you could make him laugh until he forgot all his problems.

But what really made him furious was when you had doubts about the relationship itself, about whether or not he was capable of leaving you for someone else. He took those doubts personally, as if he wasn't trying hard enough to show you how much you mean to him.

When in reality; you were doubting yourself.

'Cause it's always one step forward

You were preparing dinner for you and Rafe, your family was out for the weekend, and Rafe had decided to spend it with you.

Your hair was tied up in a bun, your attire consisted of nothing but your underwear and a shirt that used to be Rafe's, but you took it so long ago that it's yours now.

Music from your shared playlist played in the background, as you danced absentmindedly with a spatula in hand, extremely calm and enjoying time with your boyfriend.

Rafe could do nothing but stare at you with admiration, you are literally the only good thing in his life; his little piece of heaven. You are everything to him.

As soon as Dark Red by Steve Lacy started playing, you let out an excited gasp. That song in particular is Rafe’s and yours, like… if you two had to choose a song to describe your relationship, it would be that one. It represented how you two did not always have good times, but your love prevailed.

Seeing you this happy, comfortable and at ease with him made Rafe's soul happy. All his life, he had done nothing else besides make people angry, disappointed, terrified. But with you, everything was different.

You were so focused on swaying your hips to the music and singing, that you didn't notice when Rafe stood up and walked over to where you were.

It wasn't until he stood behind you, chest to back and with his hands on your hips, that you realized he was closer. His head was bowed, you could feel his breathing close to your ear, so he was able to murmur in your ear the lyrics of the song:

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe,” he sang in your ear, his voice a soft whisper as he wrapped his arms around your body and started to sway with you. “Only you, darling, only you, babe.”

The gesture quickened your heart to unsuspected levels, you felt your knees weaken as you pressed closer to his body, appreciating his closeness as he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“You know I love you so much, right?” he mumbled in your ear, as you closed your eyes and relished his presence.

“I love you too, baby.” you mumbled back, leaning your head against his chest, caressing one of his arms around your waist with your fingertips, and bringing your hand to his ash blond hair, stroking it softly.

and three steps back

“Why is he mad at you, again?” Topper asked you with a raised eyebrow, after witnessing Rafe utterly avoiding even looking at you when he walked into the room and then left without a word.

“Because I told Barry to not open the door if Rafe dropped by,” You replied with a shrug, closing your eyes and leaning back against the chair. “And when Rafe tried to lash out on him, Barry said it all had been ‘Mrs.Country Club’s’ request.”

“And he’s mad at you because you don’t want him to get all fucked up?” Topper questioned next, trying to understand the situation. But he never knew what the fuck you two were up to.

“Yes, but it’s Rafe, are you surprised?” you said with a heavy sigh.

“No, not really,” Topper admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know why you keep up with him, Y/N.”

“I ask myself that all the time…” you said with a deep sigh. “But I love him, so I guess that’s the answer.”

“And? I mean, I don’t want to be ‘that guy’ Y/N, but he’s…” Topper trailed off, apparently looking for the right word.

“I know exactly how he is, Topper, I don’t need you to remind me. I already think about that way too much.”

You and Topper had easily assumed that Rafe was no longer around, since he seemed to be making his best efforts to avoid you.

But Rafe was there, and he heard everything. He’d heard Topper giving you bad advice (or what he considered bad advice) And he heard you, having doubts about why you loved him or stood by him at all,and it made him want to lash out again.

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

No, I don't understand

[+18. Really]

“Leave me alone!” his voice boomed in the room, his brows furrowed and the veins in his neck were popping out.

“Rafe—“ you tried once again, approaching slowly in an attempt to place a hand on his shoulder, but he waved it away aggressively.

“Leave-me-alone,” he said, pausing in between each word to emphasize on how much he meant it. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose had specks of white dust, his lips were dry and his voice was coarse.

You weren’t entirely sure what you could say to get him to calm down. Or if there was anything at all you could do.

Normally, what upsets him the most is Ward. His own father. Rafe has spent his whole life trying to prove he's a good son, to make his father proud, and Ward never appreciates his efforts, only notices the bad, and ignores Rafe's clear calls for help, has since Rafe was 10 years old, so he certainly wasn't going to pay attention to him now that Rafe finally had a steady girlfriend, someone who had willingly decided to help.

95% of the time, you managed to talk to Rafe before he decided to resort to intoxication. Most of the time just seeing you helped him calm down, hearing your voice soothed him, and your lips, your skin, put him in a state of peace.

But the other 5% is when Rafe resorted to alcohol and, above all, drugs.

When Rafe is upset and decides to get high, he only manages to become unstable, erratic and yes, aggressive if not handled with care.

In those situations, the best thing you can do, putting yourself first, is to give him his space. Let him screw himself as much as he wants for that day, and help him deal with the consequences the next day, while you listen to him lament his attitude.

Rafe always said he would quit the vice; claiming you were all he needed to calm himself down, that you made him feel at peace. And above all, that you weren't slowly killing him; on the contrary, every minute he spent with you made him feel more alive.

However, for one reason or another, he always came back to it. Whether it was at a party, because Kelce suggested it, or, as is almost always the case, when he's upset with his father and needs quick relief.

And usually, this ‘quick relief’ ends up with Rafe fucked up, big time.

Once he was convinced that you wouldn't try to intervene again, Rafe went back to his business. He turned to the table, and since he already had the line ready, he simply leaned over and inhaled it, throwing his head back, running his hand through his hair and exhaling as he closed his eyes.

You exhaled heavily, shaking your head as you stared at your feet. You knew he would struggle to quit, after all it is an addiction and he has to fight it, but sometimes you get the impression that Rafe doesn't want to quit, not really.

"Do you want to help me?" asked Rafe eventually, turning his head to look at you. You didn't know if it was a trick question or not, so you hesitated before answering. "Answer me."

"Yes, of course I want to, Rafe." you replied with your respective hesitations, wondering what he was up to.

"Come here then," he said, making a 'come hither’ sign with his fingers.

You took a hesitant step but stopped, your eyes narrowing as you analyzed Rafe, trying to determine his intentions.

He raised both eyebrows in your direction, in a silent question of whether or not you're going to go with him.

Eventually you walked over to where Rafe was, he smiled at you while biting his lip lightly. Without saying anything he approached you and kissed you; the drugs made his senses heighten, so the kiss was intense from the beginning.

So that's when it made sense to you what he wanted, he wanted you. Your most obvious thought is that he would use you to take out your frustration, put the drugs aside and, most likely, fuck you.

Your idea seemed to be the right one as soon as Rafe grabbed you by the waist, still with his lips on yours, left a little bite on your lip before pulling away; and without any problem, lifted you off the floor and placed you on the table.

It's something you wouldn't admit out loud,—mostly out of shame and guilt,—but this kind of sex with Rafe was the best, he's completely unrestrained, rough, full of stamina and teasing, and above all, possessive. And that, in combination with his attractiveness, always drove you crazy.

And honestly; if what he wanted was to fuck you to take out his frustration, you'd let him.

His kisses were hungry and his hands desperate, running all over your body without distinction, as if he didn't know where to start.

He parted his lips from yours, and left a kiss at the corner of them, on your jaw; and began to make a little trail of slow kisses down your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck made you bite your lip as you wrapped your legs around his waist to feel him closer.

You slid your hand under his shirt, caressing his defined abs and the sides of his body gently with the tips of your fingers, as he left little bites on your neck. Your hands slowly moved up, intending to remove his shirt, but Rafe was quicker and brought his hands to the edge of your shirt, causing you to stop your movements to raise your arms, so he could remove your shirt with ease. And so he did.

He parted his lips from your neck and stared at you, the hunger in his eyes made you feel a fire in the pit of your stomach that only he could put out.

Desperately, your lips connected again as he settled between your legs. One of his hands traveled to your neck, and he wrapped his fingers around it, pressing lightly to the sides. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; though he couldn't see it.

With just enough strength, Rafe used the grip he had on your neck to push you down onto the table, so that you were lying on top of it.

As soon as he leaned over the table, you could feel his breath over abdomen, so you bit your lip in anticipation for what was to come.

He began to leave slow, wet kisses on your abdomen, making a slow trail to the edge of your shorts. Your automatic reaction was to close your eyes and put a hand in his hair, stroking it gently.

What you didn’t know is that the fact that you closed your eyes had given Rafe an opportunity he couldn't miss. Without you noticing, he slid a hand to the side of the table, where the small bag of white powder was.

To conceal his actions, he unbuttoned your shorts, and returned his lips to the beginning of your abdomen for more time.

The little bite he left to distract your attention caused a gasp to escape your lips; and that sound almost caused him to change plans completely.

He did want to fuck you, don’t get him wrong. He even had a mental debate about whether to continue what he was doing or simply sink his head between your thighs and provoke more sounds like that.

But he wanted to try something first. He had always wanted to try it, but had never asked you, because he knew that you would most likely say no.

With ease, he slid your shorts down your legs; so that they stayed at your ankles or fell to the floor; he didn't care. One of his hands slid into your underwear with ease, his fingers going straight to where he knew you needed him the most.

Trusting that you would not open your eyes, carefully, he put the white substance on your body, so delicately you didn’t notice. He began to prepare to inhale, while biting his lip in reaction to the sinful sounds that left your lips.

And obviously, without warning, Rafe inhaled a line from your thigh.

And all your sounds stopped, your eyes opened and your expression was filled with surprise, the bad kind.

You couldn't believe what Rafe had just done, you felt like an idiot for falling into the trap.

You also had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a moan in reaction to what his fingers were doing in between your legs, but your pride forbade it.

But more than anything else, you were outraged.

“Rafe, you did not just—“

“It felt nice, yeah?” Rafe’s voice was hoarse, you could feel his breath over your skin, as he left little kisses around. “After all, I did feel you clench around my fingers.”

His dirty words, hoarse voice, and close proximity to your body, not to mention his fingers deep inside you, caused you to let out a soft moan, causing Rafe to smirk in what he thought was victory.

But you wouldn't let him win this little game.

Although you really didn't want to, you grabbed his hand by the wrist and pulled him away, your legs trembling slightly at the sudden lack of anything between them.

Rafe's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as soon as you pushed him away from you and got off the table, lifting your shorts off the floor and putting them back on without a word.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't answer, as you searched for your shirt, feeling his heavy gaze on your body.

"Y/N, where do you think you're going?"

“I’m leaving you alone as you asked me to, remember?” you said in irony. “Before you sniffed a line off me after I begged you to quit that shit?”

“Oh, so now you’re playing the victim?” his voice rose. “Don't- Don’t act as if you wouldn’t have let me fuck you less than a minute ago!”

"Yes I would have let you, to distract you from that shit!" you admitted to him, failing to control your anger. "I said I wanted to help you, to distract you, to give you something different to do. Not that I'd give you another place to snort lines from!"

Rafe knew you were right, of course he did.

You had spent months after months trying to get him to quit, you had offered him countless hours of your days to give him something new to do, distractions, attention and love. And this is how he had decided to pay you back?

But Rafe was angry too, very. You had interrupted him, you were yelling at him; and you had left him so hard, that it would start to hurt unless he did something about it.

“Fine, then get the fuck out of here.” Rafe spat, his anger clearly getting the best of him.

Your eyes widened at that, you hadn't expected him to react like that.

Your best case scenario would be that your attitude would piss him off, yes, but that he would retaliate by getting you back to the table and showing you everything you were missing.

Instead, he simply took your word for it and told you to get out of the room.

“What?”

“You heard me, get out.”

“Rafe—“

“You uh, you have three options, yeah? You let me fuck you over that table and do whatever I want, you get out of here, or I’ll get you out of here.”

The first offer was tempting, it really was, but you wouldn’t allow him to talk to you like that. Before anything, came respect and dignity, and no matter how much you wanted him to fuck you silly, you were too angry and disappointed at him to let it slip.

Blinking repeatedly to chase away the tears from your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the other end of the table, your jacket from Rafe's bed, and walked out of there without another word as you heard him calling your name.

And maybe in some masochistic way

I kinda find it all exciting

Like, which lover will I get today?

Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?

Your relationship with Rafe was unique.

Not because of the circumstances in which it was created. A one-night-stand that turned into something casual, that was formalized after a dinner.

If not for Rafe.

You loved him, no doubt about it. You would give anything to see him happy and at peace, at peace with himself and succeeding in his life.

Rafe would do anything for you, really, anything. No matter how risky, demanding or dangerous, he would do anything for you.

He would die and kill for you.

But that surely didn’t mean it was an easy relationship, hell no. In fact, the willingness both of you had to do anything for each other sometimes made things too complicated; for at times it seemed that not a single rational thought crossed your minds.

And yes, Rafe’s addiction was a big issue. Whenever he was too high, or going through withdrawals, he wasn’t the Rafe you knew or had grown to love, it was another side of him you wanted to help get rid off. And the process wasn’t easy.

While trying to get clean; there was no way to know how he’d behave. He could either get clingy and want you around at all times to calm himself down, or he’d be in a very bad mood all the time, constantly snapping at you and raising his voice.

So there were days where he’d walk you to the door of your house and leave you there with a tender kiss and a smile.

Or days when you’d get out of his truck without a word, with tears streaming down your cheeks while he kept yelling for probably the stupidest thing.

No, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

It's back and forth, goin' over everything I said

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

'It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

Rafe knew he wasn’t okay. After all, he had begged his father for help, begged for anything that would get those thoughts to stop, but his father hadn’t listened, had only told him to ‘man up.’

You knew he wasn’t okay. Which is why you wanted to help him, to offer the support no one else had bothered to give him before he met you.

Whether he wanted it or not, those thoughts were still there. Being with you made them easier to ignore, but it’s not like they vanished entirely. He still had some ideas that made his own skin crawl.

And sometimes, you’d say or do the wrong thing and trigger those thoughts. And things got bad again for him.

Rafe knew you wanted nothing but to help him get better and be the best version of himself, and he really wanted to give you that. To change and make an effort. Not only for himself but for you. He wanted to be a man worthy of your love.

But it was hard to be anywhere near decent when you two went out and a guy stared at you for longer than Rafe’s limits allowed, or when guys tried to hit on you, when his friends got a little bit too close for his comfort.

Whenever he got jealous, he turned into a walking, talking ticking bomb. Anything could, and would set him off.

It wasn’t your fault, not really, but most of the time you felt it was. You knew Rafe dealt with a lot of insecurities already, of not being a nice person, not being good enough and so many other things. And you hated being one of the factors that caused his insecurities to arise.

And I'd leave you, but the roller coaster is all I've ever had

It was a complicated relationship, and it would probably never stop being complicated because both of you are complex people, plus there are other factors that affect the relationship.

But that didn't mean either of you would stop fighting to keep it alive. Neither would let the other go.

Rafe utterly refused to ever let you go. He loved you as he had never loved anyone, as he never thought himself capable of loving with that twisted heart of his.

You are, without exception, the best thing in his life, the best thing that ever happened to him. And you being in his heart was slowly turning him into who he had wanted to be during all those years of loneliness.

And you would never let him go, because you loved him with all your heart, soul and nerve of your body. And because you know that no one will ever love you like him. With so much passion, intensity, honesty and purity.

Because every feeling Rafe expressed with you was true; he was himself with you. And you didn't want to let him go.

Even if the two of you went one step forward, and three steps back, that single step would be longer than any step life makes you take backwards.

797 notes · View notes

yanderechuu · 3 years

Text

Shower Thoughts

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[3.2K]

Summary: Momo wasn’t as trustable as you had presumed.

Warning: Larceny, nonconsensual touching, masturbation

│

You used to spend roughly ten minutes in the shower, only ever needing to soak your body in the water, apply shampoo and body wash before rinsing all the foam of products from your skin and scalp. Shower thoughts simply consisted of the day’s agenda or any special occurrence that had happened the past week, never really drifting off to existential questions and dark notions that would keep you from leaving the bathroom later than usual. You neither necessarily liked taking a shower nor did you dread it, as to you it was only ever a mandatory routine of the day which you handled with a neutral mind.

But now, ten minutes were already a slow thirty, and majority of the time you bothered not to move your arms to make work of your hair, or lather your skin with soap as you normally would do had it not been for the questions plaguing your mind like how your classmates would terrorize your time and space.

Right, your classmates - who would spend every hour of the day with you as if they didn’t have anything better to do. As if you were an important subject of matter next to hero training. You never appreciated it, because from the start, you did not want to have anything do to with them. They smothered and coddled you as if air wasn’t that important to you, disregarding the way you felt about personal space, how it was very significant to you. Rare were the moments of peace as a few of them were always by your side, ‘ensuring your safety’ as they would like to quote it. Why ensure your safety? You had not been a prominent figure in the sports festival, neither did you have a quirk that could be of great utility for the villains unlike Bakugou or Tokoyami. You weren’t a problem child, either. Their justification of following you around like you were some sort of high-maintenance prisoner made no sturdy sense to you.

“There’s this new package of green tea my mother had sent me this week! Would you like to try it, (y/n)?”

“Sure.”

But if you had to choose among your classmates one whom you would tolerate for the following years you’d be in U.A., that would be Yaoyorozu Momo. She was kind and considerate, often determining your feelings before you could voice it out (not that you really had the courage to, most of the time). She was organized and pristine and never had you met someone more befitting for the definition of ‘mom friend’ than her. She was perfect in nearly every way, and even though you’d have the occasional pang of jealousy at some times her perfectionism was displayed (gender envy, isn’t it, (y/n)?), she never seemed to bear mal intent, so you would let the emotions slide. You’d see the galaxy in her eyes if you would stare long enough. Her tea was best substitute for coffee, too.

You never considered her more than a very great friend, though, and to her, that was a problem.

As you sauntered your way over to your dorm with her, you shuffled your bag to take your room key buried in the side pockets. “I’ll go down in a while, but you better make sure you’re in the common room before me.”

You wouldn’t allow your classmates to take advantage of your lone self simply because Momo wasn’t there to fend them off.

“Mhm! Lemon green tea as usual, correct?”

“Yeah. Thanks again, YaoMomo.”

Your use of sotto voce tone on her nickname gave a pleasant shiver down her spine; her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head had she not restrained herself. Having been always kept to yourself, you never felt the need to adjust your volume for others to hear properly, so oftentimes your voice came out in a whisper - not that she minded, of course. You sounded more sensual that way.

“Are you going to take a while or will I have to brew tea right away?”

“Training was more strenuous than usual, and my muscles can’t seem to relax,” you explained, “so I’m going to take a quick shower.”

From your peripheral vision as you were focused on your bag to fish out the key, you saw Momo’s jaw slack upon hearing your plan to take a bath. It was odd, but you didn’t give particular attention to it when you finally took out your desired item. You failed to notice the way she abruptly settled her gaze on the key, inspecting it as if she was deliberating its shape, form, and material, and installing it to memory.

“Oh- oh!” She exclaimed. “I do remember having some body wash that help soothe muscle strains and body aches. I can hand them to you if you want.”

You shook your head, smiling lightly. “You’re too kind, YaoMomo. But I think just hot water will do for me.”

She watched as you opened the door to your room, giving her one more smile before disappearing inside and locking the door with a distinct click. As soon as you did so, she pulled the sleeve of her wrist up, developing with her body lipids a key the exact copy of the one you had held.

You certainly lied when you had said you were going to take a ‘quick’ shower. Already ten minutes into it did you only decide to sleek yourself with liquid body soap, initially absentmindedly rubbing it on your body, before you gradually got rougher with your movements and soon you found yourself scuffing your own flesh with vehement motion.

They were excessively touchy again, your classmates. Denki got too close to your face while delivering a pick-up line that made you wish you didn’t exist in order to hear it, and upon nearing you did Bakugou pull you away from him, cursing at him to buzz off. He took his time feeling up your waist - the part he used to grab you - while at it. During lunch, as you were once again coerced into joining his group to the cafeteria, Izuku refused to let go of your hand as you walked, and Uraraka as adamant with hugging you by the hips with one arm. It was what girlfriends did, she said, and you were not entirely sure whether or not she referred to that word romantically.

And if not, then did girlfriends also normally touch the parts of which you did not want to be touched on? You felt, clear as day, a bare hand resting on your thigh when you sat on your usual spot, dangerously close to lifting your skirt for everyone to see, and when you gave Hagakure’s faceless face a questioning look, she asked you what was wrong. Her uniform sleeve was literally floating on top of your lap, and still she had the gall to pretend as if she was not touching you with lacking consent.

You were not safe from Shoto, either, when he offered to readjust your uniform tie and you were in no place to decline (you had the right to, but they just stripped you off of it), his breath hitching in ecstasy as his fingers brushed your chest; he was, audaciously enough, not hiding his bliss. Then he rubbed your shoulders to ‘warm you up,’ when all he really intended to do was motivate his own fantasy that you were his and he was simply scenting you like some fucking alpha to his omega.

You turned no blind eye to their gesticulations. You never once found it endearing, and wished they would stop with whatever the hell this was called, because you were quite sure this was past the border of molestation and could already be rendered a form of bullying.

But not once did you consider the possibility of having a class obsessed with your quaint self.

So you supposed that until you’d find a way to deduce their idiosyncratic actions and tendencies then you would have to make do with your own bathroom as your safe space. Momo was the only classmate you could confide to, so at least she was there.

Unfortunately, you had yet to see the other side of her coin.

Because as she was just right outside your bathroom door, obsessively taking in every bit of item you owned inside your dorm room like a madman, you were left with the impression that she was all you could ever ask for in a friend. You didn’t know how she was not any better than the rest of your classmates, adoring your very existence to the extent of insanity; how she’d crave for you so often and so terribly that she’d feel herself clench when you do so much as merely spare her a glance. And you had done that a lot today - she would have to relieve herself for it.

She spotted the heap of clothes right by your bed; it became apparent that you had stripped yourself off of it before entering the bathroom and taking a shower. Walking towards it, a portion of your seamless underwear came to view, and she resisted the urge to render into a mound of horniness in order to pick it up and inspect it closely.

It was a lighter color of (s/c). A plain, simple, modest undergarment item, still it evoked a particular feeling on the bottom center of Momo’s hips. The heat came rushing along her midriff and instigated the muscle of her legs to falter, and as soon as she felt it, a hand of hers drifted past her skirt, feeling up the slick accumulated on the fabric of her own panties only with the knowledge that your panties were currently in her possession. She needed release, but you were nearly finished with your bath, and she was still inside your room.

You walked out of the shower the moment she shut the door of your bedroom. You saw it closed, but you didn’t catch the culprit.

This unnerved you to no end. Undoubtedly, you thought, this had to be one of your classmates. Who else was it supposed to be? Aizawa-sensei (...)? You had yet to know their ultimatum, but you were sure this occurrence was another one of their schemes. You had assumed that all their weird, unappreciated antics were just to get you to socialize with them, but now you didn’t understand why it had gotten to the point of entering your room without permission.

You couldn’t keep this to yourself.

So you planned to bring it up to Momo, a representative of your class and someone whom you deemed trustable enough to share it with. Quickly, you dressed into your casual indoor attire, and rushed outside your room to head to the kitchen, where you presumed she’d be in the process of making your tea. But she wasn’t there.

Instead, she was in her own room, your panties muzzled right into her face and her own fingers buried deeply inside her cunt.

“Oh- oh, god- Ah! (Y/n)!”

Oh god, your panties. Oh god, your panties. The object most intimate to your parts of intimacy, soaking every bit of womanly secretion from your genitalia. Of all the masturbation sessions she had done to the thought of you, this was the hottest. She wasn’t quite sure whether to imagine your cunt on her lips in a position of mutual cunnilingus or your fingers thrusting into her in place of hers. She wanted both.

A whine slipped past her lips. To think that moments ago, she was in the same space as you were nude. Oh, to join you in the bathroom, doing inenarrable things to each other with the use of the showerhead. To touch your skin selfishly rather than only watch as she would do during class hours.

She came with a squeal, falling face-down to bite the duvet of her large bed. Gone in her hazy mind was her promise to you of lemon green tea, and as she still basked in the pathological euphoria of getting off, you were in the common room, anxiously waiting for her return.

But just as you had expected, someone was bound to spot you alone and take this as an opportunity to be with you, and they just so happened to be-

Oh. Aoyama.

He offered you a slice of cheese with his usual grin before settling down a few feet beside you, enough to leave you be in your personal bubble. You gave him occasional glances, unwrapping the cheese from its casing and he just sat there, eating his. He was alright, you guessed - another tolerable classmate of yours next to Momo. Perhaps it was because you used to always be alone in the classroom with him during break time that you were at ease with his presence. Or maybe he just seemed so gay and that, for some reason, comforted you. One gay presence could comfort another lol.

“It’s delicious.” Your comment came out inadvertently.

“Oui. Only the best quality for the best person.” He flaunted.

You weren’t exactly sure whether he was referring to you or to himself, but you paid little attention to that as the cheese was certainly delicious; you were not lying.

“It’s odd how your chose to take a bath at this time of the day.” He spoke.

You stopped chewing.

He meant to refer to your damp hair, but having just suspected your class of breaking and entering your room, you thought otherwise.

“I-” You choked on the cheese, ending up needing to gulp it like liquid content instead of breaking it down to fit your throat.

Immediately, he sprang up in concern, stepping over to you to gently thump you on the back. “Are you alright?”

“No- I mean- I just-!” You wheezed, occasionally having to clear your throat. You swatted his hand away from you; you hadn’t meant to appear rude, but you did. You stood up in a rush. “L-look, I have to go.”

“Don’t you want to drink water?”

“I’m- fine,”

With your words, you took off from the common room area and headed back to your room. There were two sets of emotions that mixed to form the bile in your throat. One was wrath and humiliation upon the discovery of Aoyama’s actions. The other was betrayal and confusion from Momo’s absence when she had said she’d be brewing tea for you, and it wasn’t the tea that disheartened you. She knew of your issue with the class, and if she were busy, couldn’t she have texted you a heads-up?

She shouldn’t be surprised when at the next time she saw you, you interacted with her less. Your intention to distance yourself from her was most prominent, and it didn’t help that your classmates took notice of this, because now they were taking advantage of the situation, tagging you along with them in spite of your futile attempts to decline now that Momo was nowhere to tell them off. When she’d talk to you, you would answer, though your voice was back to speaking to her like she was a stranger.

Resentment was stronger than ruing the lack of intimacy between you two. It was as if she had received your panties in exchange for the time she’d be spending with you, oddly enough. After much deliberation, she came to realize that this was your little ‘tantrum’ after not being able to meet with her the other day.

It was pretty cute, she thought, that you’d try and make her acknowledge the fault on her part by ignoring her.

You didn’t walk with her back to dorms as per usual that dismissal. Instead, just like what you had used to do before finding consolation in her, you walked alone, accomplishing being able to avoid your classmates as you did. By the time she reached the dorms, you were in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water to satiate your throat. She took a hold of your wrist before you went back to your room.

“(Y/n),” she pleaded, “tell me what’s wrong.”

You looked at her with a reluctant expression. Perhaps you should. After the short while that you had been hanging out with her, her presence turned into something you came to miss. You wanted her back, but not in the way she wanted you.

“I-it’s just,” you stammered out, “y-you know how I feel being alone in the common room without you. I... I’m not comfortable with our classmates when you’re not around.” She took pride in this. “I don’t take it lightly how you left me alone the other day...”

Your voice faltered out the longer you spoke.

So she was correct; you were certainly having your little ‘tantrum.’ With a guilty smile, she left your wrist to hold your hand tenderly, and suddenly it dawned upon you the feeling of whenever Bakugou held your waist, Shoto nuzzled his face on your neck or Izuku invaded your personal space.

Fear and apprehension.

Before you could preach your objection to whatever she had planned ahead for you, she dragged you along with her and you both reached her dorm room before you could comprehend where she was taking you.

“I’ll make it up to you.” She said, making you sit on her large bed.

Then she proceeded to make you tea, boiling water with an electric kettle situated on top of her study desk; there also laid a tea set next to her three books, which you assumed were those of which would aid her in the utility of her quirk, like encyclopedias. Beside those was a piece of cloth, unfolded, unkept - a (s/c)-colored silk fabric.

Your face drained of color.

She pushed the books towards the cloth, completely obscuring it from your view and leaving the table disorganized. You knew Momo, neat and orderly as much as possible; she wouldn’t do that without reason.

Now that you thought about it, the same day someone had barged in your room, your underwear had been missing from your set of laundry garments. You spent the next whole day actively avoiding Aoyama, thinking he was the culprit to this felony. At the present moment you were reconsidering your allegation.

“U-um, Momo, I need to go-”

“Here!”

She yelled it so giddily, so uncharacteristically, as she pushed the cup of tea towards your way. How she did so was very quick that you had not the time to take it properly, and steaming liquid fell to your décolletage, past the cotton of your uniform and streaming down the valley of your breasts. It was a moist mess. She loved every bit of it.

“Oh! Oh, my bad. I’ll- I’ll clean you up!” She exclaimed, all flushed and excited.

You didn’t find it in you to push her back when she began to do exactly what she had said, taking your blazer off, loosening your school tie and unbuttoning the dress shirt underneath, only ever being able to stare at her with eyes that evinced betrayal, because it slowly occurred to you that she was satiating her own selfish obsession with you all under the ruse of maintaining a decent friendship.

“(Y/n),” She breathed out, “I adore you.”

She was no different than the rest of your classmates, and you were a fool to think otherwise.

#bnha x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere class 1a #class 1a x reader #reader insert #x reader #yandere bnha #momo yaoyorozu x reader #momo x reader #momo x y/n #yandere #yandere momo yaoyorozu #yandere momo #yanderechuu

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superfics-forone · 3 years

Text

Just Friends

SUMMARY: Sam asks the group who they think are the “hottest” members of the team. You don’t make the cute for Bucky’s top five.

Bucky x TALL!Reader

W/C: 5,800

WARNINGS: angst, swearing (like two f bombs), cannon level violence, Bucky being an idiot (it’s a warning), physical insecurities, fake science

A/N: I wrote this because the top 5 situation actually happened to me IRL and when you don’t make someone you like’s list, it sucks. Also, this is in no way meant as being against people who are smaller! I am just a tall/plus size woman and sometimes that really makes you feel like you’re unattractive to people because you don’t fit the gender norm. Let me know what you think! I’m pretty new at this so I’d appreciate the feedback!

Also, HUGE shout out to @princessmisery666 for being so patient and supportive! Thank you for being my beta! Your comments were so incredibly helpful!

The best part about working with Bucky was that you got to see him everyday. The worst part was that you were constantly reminded that he wasn’t attracted to you.

You knew you were a good looking woman, people would often tell you that. It usually happened when you weren’t necessarily feeling your prettiest. Somehow that made it worse. Others would compliment you but he never would. Even when you knew you looked good- like you had put in extra effort and actually tried that day- still he would give you nothing.

You sat across from him in the common room looking at all the other Avengers wondering why he didn’t feel the same when you finally got your answer.

“Alright man,” Sam called out to the group. “Top five, let’s go.”

“Top five?” asked Clint, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. “Top five what?”

Everyone looked back to Sam, - “Top five on who you think is lookin’ most fine”.

“You want us to rate each other?” You asked incredulously.

“Naw, man!” Sam replied. “I want to know who you think are the top five most attractive! Male and female!”

You slunk back into the sofa, both curious and terrified of the conversation to come.

You heard huffs from the others but no one objected. Vision went first and of course he could only answer with; “I believe all of you are inherently lovely. I couldn’t possibly pick a top five of those who I find to be most attractive.” As soon as he finished and the room was no longer focused on him though he leaned over to Wanda and said something in her ear that made her blush.

You brought your cup up to your lips to hide your smile. You loved how happy they were after having been through so much heartbreak.

Sam went next, “Imma say, Wanda, Nat, Gamora’s got it goin’ on…for an alien…Hill - don’t tell her I said that- and…Y/N,” he said throwing you a wink.

You smiled but shook your head with a roll of your eyes. You knew the only reason he said your name was because you were in the room. He was trying to be kind. Men didn’t seem to be actively lining up to be with you…it might have something to do with them being intimidated by you being an Avenger but who could possibly know

“Sam you would think anything with legs that gave you the time of day was hot,” Bucky shot.

The others laughed but Sam shot back, “alright, Tin Man, who’s on your list? Okoye?”

“Yeah for one! I would be dead before I could make a move but sure! She’s dangerous and stunning!” He took a swig of bourbon as if he was done.

“Alright then who else?” Wanda leaned forward winking at you.

You shot her a warning look. You had only told her how you felt about Bucky once on a drunken night after finding out he had gone on date with another recruit. Jealousy had reared its ugly head and she could feel your angst that night. You had asked Wanda how; “A tiny little thing that would barely hold her own in the ring,” could possibly catch his eye. It was as if the only thing he saw you as was an ear to listen to his problems and a soldier he could rely on in the field. You had seen them together multiple times since then and every time it pained you more.

She was everything you weren’t. Barely five foot, two inches tall with a skinny frame to match, and a nicely formed backside. In reality you couldn’t be mad at Bucky. He deserved to be happy. He was your friend and you wanted that for him. You just wanted that particular happiness too.

“Okay, okay!” Bucky’s hands came up in surrender as he finished his drink and leaned back to think, He sat so close to you his left bicep of his folded arms brushed yours with every breath he took.“Okoye? Sure…uh… in no particular order…Wanda, Nat, Darcy, and the little woman, Kris, from reception.”

“It seems, Mr. Barnes”, said Vision, “that you prefer mates who are significantly smaller than you. I do believe that of that group, Wanda is the tallest one.”

“Which isn’t really saying much because I’m only five, six”, she complained.

“The perfect height my dear.” Wanda smiled at that and kissed Vision’s cheek .

You took another long sip of your drink as you registered what had been said. Your stomach soured as you finished the glass. Not so much from the alcohol as from the realization that the man who you had secretly been pinning over didn’t even list you as attractive enough to make his top five.

You felt like you knew why. It was just too much. You weren’t small and dainty like those on his list. You had big bones and a can do attitude. You wouldn’t take crap from people. And because you were so tall you could come off as intimidating…or so some men had told you.

“I’m going to get another drink,” You whispered to no one in particular.

But Sam really couldn’t read a room and he called you out. “No, no! Who’s on your list Y/N?”

“Oh no!” You said dryly. “I’d have to be much drunker for that conversation. For now, I'll keep my opinions to myself.”

You spotted Bucky’s surprised face before you made your way over to the bar. The conversation carried on behind you as you refilled your glass. Thoughts of Bucky’s revelation clouding your mind. You were never going to be good enough for him because you were just too big. Too tall. Too much. He liked the smallest, most petite women in the compound. Feeling your emotions swelling,you decided to grab the bottle and made your way quietly out of the room while the ruckus continued.

Once on your floor you closed the door behind you with a forceful slam, “FRIDAY!! Lock the door and don’t open it for anyone!!”

“Yes, Miss Y/L/N.”

The rest of the night was spent on the floor in your sweats drinking from your bottle of whiskey and feeling sorry for yourself and all the things you couldn’t be because of biology.

You weren’t sure if it was a drunken stupor or your imagination but at one point you could have sworn you heard a knock only for it to go away just as quickly.

…

The next day you had an awful hangover and didn’t get out of bed. Bucky came to your door for your normal morning run.

“Tell him I’m not going, Friday.”

“He would like to know why, Miss.”

“Tell him it’s my time of the month.”

“Your time of the month was last week, Miss.”

“Who’s side are you on, Friday? Just tell him I’m sick.”

“Very well, Miss.”

It was silent for a few moments and you had thought that would be enough to get Bucky off your back for now.

“Mr. Barnes would like to know if you’d like to see Dr. Cho, Miss.”

“Uuuugggghhhh,” you rolled out of bed and marched over, irritated that the one person you didn’t want to see was at your door.Pulling it open with a huff you practically screamed. “What?!?”

“Woah!” Bucky jumped back startled at your disheveled appearance and puffy eyes. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, doll. You didn’t come back last night and you never answered the door when I came to check on you.”

So there was a knock last night.

You couldn’t look him in the eye as your eyes filled with tears again, this time with shame. “I’m fine, Bucky.” You started shutting the door quickly and he stuck his hand on it preventing you from closing it again.

“Y/N…what’s…”

“Bucky, I just need some rest okay?” You cut him off, “I’m fine. I promise I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.” You smiled weakly.

Bucky searched your face as if trying to find what you weren’t telling him in your eyes. But you were an Avenger and you knew how to school your features to show nothing.

Bucky sighed and shook his head, “alright, doll. I’m here if you want to talk about anything.”

“Yes, fine,” you said pushing him out the door. Your eyes had flooded with tears again. You didn’t look up to see Bucky’s hurt and concerned face as you closed the door again and put your back to it.

You held your breath listening for his footsteps to retreat before sinking to the floor and crying.

…

The next day was an all out avoid Bucky day. You weren’t sure you could take the questions and worried looks he was sure to give you. Instead, you decided that what you needed was time away from such temptation. And so, you went in to ask Steve for an overseas long assignment.

“You sure about this one, Y/N. It’s a 9 month solo mission. It’s going to be long and it’s going to be lonely.”

“Yes. I’m sure. I need some time to myself.”

Steve looked at you with understanding and pity. He could see how you felt about Bucky even if he couldn’t get his best friend to see it as well.

“Alright,” he said, “suit up. You leave in 2 hours.”

South Africa wasn’t the worst assignment. It wouldn’t take long for you to get the information you needed. And the separation from Bucky would be good for you.

You finished checking your last weapon and loaded it as well as a pair of throwing knives, a gift from Bucky, into your duffle before looking around your room one more time.

You headed to the door and almost made it out until the picture of you and Bucky on your dresser made you stop. Picking it up you smiled at the memory of the minor league baseball game you’d attended together. You had won tickets and no one else was available that night. When you’d offered the tickets to Bucky you couldn’t believe that he said yes! It was the true start of your friendship, talking about life and how much it had changed for him but also how little it had changed for you. He couldn’t believe it when you started singing all the words to “I’ll never smile again”.

“You think I don’t know music? I’m quite cultured, Mr. Barnes!” You had said with a laugh.

“I never said you weren’t, sweetheart!”

Coming back out of your revelry with a start you put the picture back down on the dresser and turned to the door. You were going to get over this infatuation, even if it killed you. Supposedly time heals all wounds. Well you weren’t sure if there was ever going to be enough time but you could get distance.

…

Hours later Bucky came in to tell you about the relationship problems he was having with the girl from reception. She just didn’t seem to understand him and kept picking fights. You had become his confidant and had saved his relationship once before so would most likely be able to do it again.

He was almost to your room when he noticed your door was ajar. Slowing he moved closer and pushed it in silently. The room was neat and quiet. Your bed folded nicely as though it was always that way.

Bucky knew that you never made your bed until you were right about to get in it. Or unless you were going on a trip.

Checking carefully he started to notice things missing. Your favorite slippers were gone. Your tooth brush and favorite stuffed animal turtle were also missing. All of the things that you felt you had to have with you were gone.

Then he saw the picture frame on the dresser. Picking it up he too smiled at the memory, then frowned. It was still here. You almost always took this with you. Why was it still here but everything else you held of value was gone.

“Friday, where is Y/N?”

“Miss Y/L/N has volunteered for a mission, sir.”

“Where?”

“That information is classified.”

“Okay, when will she be back?”

“That information is classified.”

“Alright, who else went on the mission,” he asked hoping whoever it was would have your back.

“All other Avengers are currently in the compound.”

“So she went by herself?” Bucky fumed.

“That information is classified.”

“Damn robots!”

Bucky stormed out and found Steve in the kitchen.

“Where did you send her, punk!

Steve didn’t even look up from his newspaper, knowing exactly what his best friend was talking about.

“She’ll be fine, Buck. She just needs some time to herself.”

“So send her to Fiji! Not a solo mission!!”

“This is her call Bucky. You’ve got to trust her.”

Bucky spun on his heel and headed to the computer lab. He knew he was being irrational but if no one else was going to look after your well-being then he was going to have to do it himself.

It took him all day but he finally unencrypted the files for your mission. You were to carry out a recon mission in Port Elizabeth on a supposed Hydra base. It was a far cry from Fiji but you wouldn’t be in immediate danger.

Still he came in everyday to check in on your reports and find out how the events in the country were progressing. He had even convinced Torres to help him set up notifications to his phone if something were to go wrong. He had, very nicely, threatened him with knives if he didn’t set up Stark’s satellite to keep an eye on you.

After three weeks he was really starting to miss your company. Every time he went out with Kris from reception he realized that she just wasn’t as interesting as you. They didn’t have the same camaraderie and chemistry as the two of you did.

So when his phone dinged at 2:30am he looked at the notification. It was a satellite image of you on your apartment porch drinking coffee. You seemed at ease and calm at your small table. Your hair down and wearing a long red dress. He went to the live feed of the satellite but when he did you weren’t there.

Bucky refreshed the page again thinking it may be just an error. But his rising heartbeat made him think differently. When the screen came back he noticed the upturned coffee mug and the newspapers on the ground.

Bucky flew from his bed and raced down the hall to the command room. Steve and Tony were already there, still in their pajamas.

“…it’s not as if she has a tracker in her, Stark!”

“Well maybe she should! Maybe we should make it a standard issue! Everyone gets a tracker! Friday! Make a note!”

“Yes sir.” replied the AI.

“Tony, we need to focus on the…”

“Where is she?!” Bucky growled.

Both men turned around in surprise. Steve recovered first, his eyes sympathetic for his friend’s worry. “We’re not sure, Buck. These images were only taken 4 hours ago.” He clicked to zoom in closer, “but we did get this.”

He zoomed all the way into the kitchen window behind where you’d sat drinking coffee, where a face reflected in the glass. Bucky looked on in rage, hands in tight fists, as the image became clearer and Zemo came into focus.

…

You awoke with a start, unaware of your surroundings. You sat on a bed in a bare room with a single one way mirror. A metal chair sat by the wall and you noticed no handle on the door. Trying to piece together what had happened you recalled your last memory.

A beautiful morning, the sun shining on the water, a freshly brewed cup of coffee. You sat in your apartment in Port Elizabeth, a pain in your neck…

“Zemo,” you whispered.

“Ah, you’re awake,” said the speaker above you. “I’m sorry about the dramatics but it was necessary. You’re a very important piece of the puzzle.”

“Let me guess,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “You don’t like the way the world is being saved by the Avengers and you think you could do better.”

“Actually I want something else, мой дорогой. I need you.”

“What?” you cried befuddled. “Why on earth would you need me?”

“Do you know what TX-39 is?”

“Yes, I have an entire codex of arbitrary numbers logged away in my brain,” you retorted.

Zemo didn’t pause at your sarcasm. “TX-39 is the compound used to create nucleotides that bond onto nerve endings. By doing so they suspend brain signals stopping all neuro function and rendering the subject immoble. Something you have experienced first hand. By combining a nanotech inhibitor with this nerve ending your subject’s direct motor function is now open to...suggestions.”

You sat astounded as you registered what he had told you. You looked down at your hands but you didn’t feel different. There was no way something like this could work.

“What better way to get rid of a super soldier than to create your own?” Zemo said. You felt a slight buzz in your spine as you stood up quickly trying to resist. Running to the mirror you pulled back your arm, ready to punch your way out, but an inch from the glass your arm stopped. “Ironic that the Soldat will come to save you, only to be the one who needs to be saved.” With that you felt the electricity in your spine disappear and your body was your own again.

Frustration built within you as you sat back on the bed for a moment processing his statement. Your face became more and more incredulous until finally you burst out laughing. You continued laughing harder and harder at the absurdity of Zemo’s reasoning.

“You think I’m the one he is going to come after,” you laughed. “You think you picked the right mouse for your trap? You’re going to wait a long time if you think he’s going to come and get me.”

During your first few weeks away you had missed Bucky fiercely. Leaving him behind so abruptly had felt like severing a part of yourself, but the last few weeks had been good for you. You had forgotten what it was like to rely on yourself. You had grown into yourself again and had realized how little Bucky had actually cared for you when he never came to find you. He hadn’t so much as picked up the phone after you had left. It was as if you had never existed in the first place.

“Bucky doesn’t care about me,” you said sardonically. “He never has. We are barely even friends.You picked the wrong mouse, Zemo. ”

“We’ll see, дорогой,” and with a click he was gone.

Your brain shifted in and out of the conversation with Zemo. Looking down at your hands, you prayed it wasn’t true. You knew that what had happened at the window was real but you didn’t want to believe it. You had been turned into a weapon to hurt your friends. To hurt Bucky.

Crossing your arms over your chest you laid down on the bed, rolled over to face the wall, and cried.

…

Avengers Compound

“There is a five mile radius around Agent Y/L/N last known location,” said Fury. “Two man teams will sweep the area in a grid formation while the drones scan for energy signatures. Any questions?”

All those around the table sat silent, but nodded confirmation of their understanding of the objective. Fury looked around the room, “This mother fucker took one of ours and I wanna know why. Let’s get going.”

Bucky stood up from the table and made his way out of the room to the Quinjet hangar. Steve pulled on his arm before entering the plane. “I know what’s going through your mind right now Buck, but we are going to get her back”.

Bucky looked at the ground before raising his eyes to his friend. “He knew how to get to me, Steve. He always knows where to hurt me. He couldn’t use you. You’re too difficult to overpower. So he had to pick her. I just,” Bucky wasn’t sure how to finish his thought. Words never came easily to him and he wasn’t sure he could really express what he was feeling. “I just want her safe.”

After you had left Bucky felt hollow inside. He hadn’t realized how much joy you brought to his day with your smiles and jokes. Always knowing what to say, or at least, what he needed to hear. Your departure made him realize he needed you. Boarding the jet Bucky knew that no matter what happened he was going to tell you how he felt.

…

The team had been sweeping through the city for what felt like hours and there still hadn’t been any developments. Walking through another alleyway Bucky scanned the cobblestone streets. He was beginning to lose hope at ever finding you at all when he saw an uneven line in between two buildings.

Pressing his comm link he called out, “Steve, I’ve got something. I’m going to check it out.”

“Bucky, wait for backup. We’ll come to you.”

Feeling along the wall Bucky felt a draft between the cracks. Unholstering the gun at his hip he pushed against the wall feeling it give way.

“I’m going in. Follow my location.”

“Bucky, wait!” Steve called.

Bucky ignored his calls and continued down the dimly lit hall. The walls opened up to a staircase leading down to a command room. The musky scent of decay and scotch filled Bucky’s nostrils.

“Privet, Soldat,” Zemo called from the darkness.

Bucky whirled around to find nothing.

“Have you come for your little mouse?”

Still searching, Bucky said nothing as the sound came from a different corner of the room.

“Have you realized how much you miss her?”

Bucky circled again, coming up to a window.

“I wonder what it is? Is it her sweetness that draws you? Or her willingness to see you for more than the killer you are?”

Bucky frowned. Zemo was playing with him.

“Or have you realized that her fire is what draws you to her? She does have a talented tongue. I’ve seen her put it to good use,” Zemo provoked. “I have enjoyed having her in my company, but it seems you really never appreciated her spirit, did you?”

Bucky continued searching the room as Zemo continued his monologue. Coming up to the computer he saw a paused video feed. It played as soon as he stepped forward.

Bucky saw you in a room, still in your red sundress. Your hair was matted and you had the look in your eye of anger and exasperation. When you spoke, Bucky felt the wind rush out of his lungs.

“Bucky doesn’t care about me,” you said sardonically. “He never has. We are barely even friends.”

“A pity she never saw you care, but I suppose it’s only fair that you tell her now.”

The door beside the window clicked open with a beep. You came out of the cell with a look of wary surprise on your face. “Bucky?”

“Now is your moment, Sergeant Barnes. Why not tell her how you feel before it's too late,” called Zemo.

Bucky holstered his gun and walked toward you. “Y/N? Are you okay? Come on, let's get out of here.”

He grabbed your hand and turned to go but you were rooted to the spot. Your breathing became heavy as you felt the tingling sensation in your spine again.

“Bucky, I need you to leave,” you cried, dread dripping from your voice.

“What? No,sweetheart, come on! I’m not leaving you.”

“Bucky, I…” you started.

“Last chance to declare yourself, Soldat.”

Looking up in anger, Bucky yelled. “Shut up, Zemo. I’m not performing for you-” Bucky’s head turned in surprise as you punched him across the face. “What the hell, Y/N?”

“It wasn’t me!” you cried as you dropped and kicked his legs out from under him.

Bucky rolled over quickly to pick himself up as you followed him swinging punches at his head and kicks to his stomach. Your moves were both erratic and efficient as they landed multiple times. It was all Bucky could do to block your assault and move out of the way.

“This isn’t me!” you cried again between punches. “Zemo is controlling me with nanotech!”

Bucky threw up an arm to block your punch before flipping you around by your arm and pressing you to the wall. He didn’t want to hurt you but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t the most comfortable position.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re going to get you out of this.”

Your foot kicked his leg and you pushed yourself over and around his head and away from the wall. Grabbing the knife at his hip as you slipped out of his grip, you threw it into his thigh.

Bucky looked at you in surprise and annoyance. “Sorry!” you winced. Pulling the knife from his leg he tossed it to the floor.

“Look, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere, but try not to kill me, okay?”

“It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose Bucky!” you huffed as you charged at him.

“Well I’m just trying to get you out of the problem you put yourself in!” You had grabbed another knife and went to stab him. Bucky caught the knife and twisted your hand but the knife snagged your dress and tore the skirt as you fought to wrestle it away.

Your eyes flared with anger and the next punch you threw had a little extra heft in it.

“That I put myself in? How about you, Mr. Barge-into-a-room-with-no-back-up!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you liked being saved! Although you’re one to talk! You came on a mission without backup!” Bucky rolled across the computer console out of the way of your next kick, getting agitated at your attitude.

“Because I needed space!” you yelled as you followed him around the computer desk.

“Space? Space from what?” Bucky yelled back, actually throwing a punch that you easily evaded.

“You! You idiot!” it burst out of you as you came up swinging before pushing him to the ground.

Bucky looked up at you with his eyes wide. You had him straddled under your legs. Bucky brought his arms up to block your punches while he tried to talk to you.

“Why would you need space from me? I don’t understand. You left without warning, without saying goodbye! Your mission was classified so I had to hack F.R.I.D.A.Y to even find out where you were!”

Your body was starting to fatigue from the strain of the fight as you continued to land blow after blow. You were fit and well trained but because your body was not your own you were blowing through energy rapidly. Your breaths were coming in short gasps as your chest heaved at each punch. If you kept this up, you weren’t sure how much time you would have before your body gave out entirely.

“Y/N, you left a huge gap! You were my best friend and then you were gone! You wouldn’t even talk to me before you left! You didn’t tell me you were leaving. I couldn’t even call you because the mission was supposed to be classified!”

Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe the hopelessness you felt, but you gave him everything you had left as you pummeled into him. Frustration over your situation, frustration at him, frustration at yourself built up inside you.

“I WILL NOT BE YOUR STAND IN! I will not be second best. I can’t look on anymore as you find someone smaller, cuter, littler to fit perfectly into your life! I deserve to be wanted! I deserve to be desired!” you screamed at the man beneath you as tears streamed down your cheeks.

Bucky finally bucked his hips and flipped you under him, pinning your hands to the ground next to your head.

“Get off of me! Let me go!” you had finally had enough. The damn had broken and your emotions and insecurities raged inside you. Your body pulled and twisted to break free from his grip.

“You do deserve to be desired,” Bucky said calmly as he caged you beneath him. “You are nobody's stand in. You’re perfect just as you are.” He wanted to say more but it was all he could do to keep you pinned under him.

The team burst down into the control room to see you openly weeping and Bucky on top of you.

“Nat, I need you to put an electric burst in my arm.” Bucky said looking up.

“I’m sorry, you what?” asked Nat.

“Just do it!” he said as you fought harder against him.

With a nod from Steve, Nat waved her baton and zapped Bucky’s arm causing both of you to scream in pain. When your body finally stopped seizing, the lack of adrenaline and the pain and fatigue caught up to you and you passed out in Bucky’s arms.

“You want to explain why I just pushed fifty thousand volts through you two?”

“Zemo infected her with some kind of nano tech. She hasn’t been in control this entire time.”

Steve scanned around the room. “Alright team, fan out. See if you can find out where Zemo went. I want teams down here with sat links up in 30 minutes.”

Bucky circled the gears around in his arm to get it up and running again before scooping you carefully off the ground.

“Buck, get her on the next jet out. Dr. Cho and Banner will be waiting for you to get back.”

…

For the second time you woke up in an unfamiliar place, and struggled to get your bearings. You felt like you’d been run over by a pick up truck and tumbled through a dryer.

Feeling slowly returned to your hands as your eyes opened and your vision cleared. You were in one of the medical rooms at the compound you realized.

“Look who decided to wake up,” said a gruff voice.

Turning your head you saw Bucky sitting in the chair beside you. He looked fresh and his eyes twinkled at you.

“Bucky,” you croaked as you tried to sit up.

“Woah there. You just relax. Your body is still trying to catch up from Zemo’s nanites.”

You slumped back down in the bed as Bucky leaned forward to take your hand.

“You had me worried there for a minute, doll. You’ve been sleeping for days. Wasn’t sure when you were going to pull through.”

“You doubt me, Barnes?”

“Not for a second, sweetheart, but I sure as hell missed you.” Bucky smiled, then looked down for a moment as if trying to find the right words. “We need to talk about why you left, Y/N.”

“No, Bucky, I...it doesn’t matter.” You say looking away. “It’s not important.”

“I don’t know, I’d say you thinking you don’t matter to me is pretty important.” You turned to look at him sharply, mouth open in a small gasp. “And I’d also say that you thinking I don’t find you desirable is pretty important too.”

You sat in shock as he spoke, not wanting to break the way you had during your fight.

“Y/N, you are perfect. You knew me before I even knew myself. You light up the whole room just by being in it. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You are strong, independent, kind, and gentle. You’re like a tall Asgardian goddess. Every inch of you is beautiful. I thought back to the last time we talked...before you left, and I realized why you did. I know why you thought I wasn’t attracted to you. That night, Sam’s list,” he paused as if pained at the memory, “I didn’t add you because...well, because I was so confused at how I was feeling. You were my friend. I didn’t realize till it was too late that I was already falling in love with you. And I most definitely didn’t want to give Sam anymore ammunition.”

You looked up at him sharply when he dropped the L word.

Bucky stood to reposition himself on the edge of your bed. Taking your face in his hands he leans forward until your foreheads barely touch. “I didn’t want to ruin things with you. You were my friend. You were perfect and I thought you deserved better so I ran to find something that was everything you weren’t. You are my perfect fit. You are just right. You are the only person I want. Please tell me you’re mine. Please tell me I haven’t lost you.”

You brought your hand up to rest over his as you let his words wash over you.

He wanted you. He thought you were beautiful. All of you. All of the parts people had told you were too much: your height, your attitude, your independence - he wanted it all.

You did something that you wanted to do for months, you brought your lips up to his softly and gave him a chaste kiss. “I was always yours Bucky,” You pulled his hands down and pushed him away to look into his eyes, “but I won’t be taken for granted anymore. I shouldn’t have to leave for you to want me. I shouldn’t have to be gone for you to realize what you had. I left for a reason. It was to find peace with myself. I realized that I didn’t need your approval. I didn’t need your desire to be whole. I won’t settle for someone who can’t see what’s right in front of them. I know my worth.”

Bucky looked at you sorrowfully as he held onto your fingers, memorizing their shape. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough.”

“I know, but it happened. I don’t need you to be happy, Bucky...” Bucky hung his head in dejection. “...But I do want you.”

Bucky looked up at you sharply to find your eyes full of love and warmth. You wanted him. Even after all that happened - how he forced you away, how he made you feel like you weren’t good enough, you were still willing to forgive him. You wanted him even with all his faults.

You brought him closer for another kiss and savored the way his lips fell across yours. Breaking away to look up at him you said what you had been holding in for months, “And I love you too.”

Tags: @princessmisery666 @dreamwritesimagines

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #avenger reader #angst #tall girl problems

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maschotch · 2 years

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I know you've gone into detail about a few already, but what would you say are your top 10 hotch headcanons? You don't need to explain them if you don't want to, I just wonder what the list would look like.

ok it was surprisingly hard to think of headcanons?? lmao i think its just hard for me to think of them on the spot? idk i think i just do more character deep dives than actual headcanons. like i’m sure if you asked me about anything in particular i’d be able to give you my opinion/headcanon but thinking of stuff off the cuff is uhhh hard. also im just stupid aaskjdfhgl

he has a hard time sleeping in front of other people and he's a light sleeper, which can make sharing a hotel room difficult sometimes. he's also an early riser, which can sometimes be a little creepy for whoever's bunked up with him for the night: he's still awake when they go to sleep but he's also already showered, dressed, and left them breakfast on the nightstand. it's hard to tell if he's slept at all

he’s an excellent gift giver but he also hates attention so it’ll usually be anonymous. at some point tho they all realize when it’s something from him. he's uncomfortable receiving gifts (more ab hating attention and not feeling like he deserves anything), so the team will just leave things on his desk with a note or something, usually including "no take-backs."

he hates getting his picture taken, but he loves having photos of people he cares about. something something doesnt care about himself something something in his wallet he has a picture of jack, of haley and jack, of jessica and jack, and a lot with the team: one with emily including rossi, one including gideon and elle, one of just penelope and jj, one of just derek and spencer, and one old picture (the only one he has of himself) of him standing between gideon and rossi when he first joined the bau.

he’s good at cooking, but only when he’s following a recipe (which is why he’s also good at baking). so between gideon and rossi he knows how to cook a lot of italian food. but he’s a quick learner and will pick up skills just by watching. he’s very attentive when someone is preparing a meal for him.

he likes most foods and isn’t very picky, but he loses his appetite easily and can handle plainer food better when he’s focused on/upset about something.

he has. a fucking insanely high pain tolerance. like the pain registers and he can definitely feel it, but he doesn’t ever show it. morgan was some combination of awed/horrified when he saw hotch get stitched up for something minor for the first time and the man didn’t so much as wince.

trans hotch!! idek what else to say on this. i just think he’s neat? i don’t think a lot of people on the team know just bc he doesn’t really talk about it a lot. he’s p open about it with garcia tho

autistic hotch is also something that can be so personal. ik @eldrai has written out some amazing hcs in further detail that i’m obsessed with. he’s just got very specific things that makes him feel safe; a few things that have to be a certain way for him to feel comfortable/normal like his clothing; he has a hard time expressing what he’s feeling which is something he’s gotten better at over the years; he’s actually pretty good at deciphering social cues but only when he’s actively thinking about it; bc of his childhood he’s learned to stim in very small movements like touching his thumbs to his fingers. lots of other stuff too but those are the things that come to mind.

every hc for hotch’s backstory is genuinely gonna be way too fuckin long to put in a bullet list. especially the kind of detail @t4thotchniss and i have put into it. goin over the basics: super violent father, mom’s psyche has taken a severe downward spiral after the years of abuse, hotch snaps and beats his father to death, a couple days later his mom burns the house down while he’s out getting groceries. we also like to throw an older sister in there for funsies to a) get baby sean out of the house before their father gets a chance to go after him at this point the sheer brutality of the abuse has gotten so severe that there’s no way a baby would survive the conditions in the house and b) to help hotch’s transition get started pretty early

#asks #aaron hotchner #love talking ab him but too stupid to say anything :///

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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.

——

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