#honestly this movie was a goddamned blast and a half
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I finally did it yall I made a list of my favorite Cartmanisms bc I do in fact very much enjoy writing his out of pocket ass
“Oh speaking of,” Cartman added, “let’s just sacrifice the Insulin Bitch and the brain damaged hippie to the zaliens so the rest of us can make a run for it.”
Eric was scowling. “Only I’M allowed to make comments about you two gayasses. I say we wipe the floor with those homophobes.”
“I doubt they’ll have a vest in your size, Thumbulimia.”
“Please, I have better things to do than watch the Jew have a Post Traumatic Spider Disorder episode.”
Cartman rolled his eyes, but got up to drop a five in the Fuckwad Jar. “I hate you guys, seriously. Marj, you weren’t even in the room for the Nancy joke.” The lace trim of his robe fluttered as he sat back down, which made Stan laugh again. “What’s so funny, hippie?” There weren’t really words, honestly, but he’d try. “I just… I never want us to change, you know?” “Gay.”
Eric sung a few lines of ‘Jesus Loves The Little Children’ in a creepy horror movie voice and then sprung out from his hiding spot and started blasting on an unsuspecting youth who got too close, chasing him down the field with rarely shown athleticism.
Cartman looked incredibly bored as he clicked the magazine and snapped it back into place. “Well fuck me for being prepared.”
Cartman scoffed. “He’s not doing anything but staring up at you like he’s Sleeping Goddamn Beauty and you just kissed him out of a coma.”
“Awww, looook, you guys! They’re having a gay little hurt/comfort moment again! What, you gonna kiss it better, Kahl?”
Cartman just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “What the hell ever, Jimothy. Go stutter about it to someone else.”
“Okay, fucking first of all,” Kyle shot a glare at Cartman, “no one’s getting sacrificed. Literally, that’s not goddamn happening. AND we’re keeping this discussion CIVIL. It’s five in the morning and nobody’s slept very much. There’s not a single guy here who’s actually thinking straight.” “That would be because half of you are gay as balls.”
“Once again, I’m moving that we leave the hippie behind.” “Cartman, remind me to kick your ass when we’re out of here.” “Good luck on that if you fucking faint like one of those stupid goats again.”
Cartman was out of bullets, but he’d taken out a good chunk of the extraterrestrial undead. “Holy shit, Kahl, you better not die on us. Cockroach, remember? You’re a damn cockroach.”
“Aight, so anyway, what’s JewBot up to?” “Still at work. He’ll be home later. We’re gonna go out to dinner with the Tuckers.” “I didn’t ask for your life’s story, buttplug,”
“Oh JESUS CHRIST!!” Oh, great. Cartman had emerged from his cave. “Did I just walk into a stairwell orgy?”
“Fuck you, Kahl. Your recycled dildo and his weirdo wingman pulled me out of a Klance slowburn.” “WHO the FUCK is reading Voltron fanfiction in 2023?!” “Some of us are dedicated.”
Eric paused his self imposed quest to rob every taco truck in GTA and set aside his controller. “Hellllll no. The vampires don’t get my blood without paying me for it.”
“Geez, pack it up, Fiddler On The Roof.”
“Fatass, if he dies in a car accident because YOU made him freak, I WILL kill you.” “Good luck doing that with one leg and a fever, fleshlight.” But his voice softened. “Just try to chill out until he gets home, Kahl. Then you can be a terrible patient for someone who actually likes you.”
“Yeah, hippie. I wasn’t going to deal with you if something happened to your burning bush.”
A certain abrasive fuckwad leaned casually against the wall. “Oh, the Bubonic Jew didn’t tell you yet? I said he fell on the stairs, didn’t I? He just hurt his knee again, what else is new.” Stan made a noise of surprise and Cartman pointed his beef jerky at him. “By the way, I really don’t get why you get so stoked about lugging him around. He’s difficult.”
Cartman scurried off to inspect a leaf. “Woah, you guys! I think I just, like, discovered empathy!” “You’re looking at a plant.” “Plants have feelings too, Khal! Look at your photosynthesizing dildo back there!”
“Like he needs an excuse to get on his high horse about shit.” “I’ll kick your fat ass,” Kyle warned. “Good luck, tinkerbell.”
Cartman had planted himself into the passenger seat, munching away at that bag of funyuns. He glanced back. “What’s the ‘sitch, Ken-Possible?”
“Because, you pussy,” Cartman said with a false saccharine smile, “you have the biggest TikTok following from your gayass little songs.
“Yep.” Cartman said through a mouthful of eggs. “Plus, Clyde has an affair going with the town vet, Butters is a total twink, and Stanny boy has a boner for the Jew.”
Oh dear god. Cartman was NOT about to babysit the argumentative dickhole while the housekeeper worked. As much fun as he was to fight with, Kyle was a fierce opponent, and Cartman wasn’t really in the mood. He’d had a weird night. The cats had been on edge.
Oh, of goddamn course. The OTHER buttplug. It wasn’t a secret. Well, technically it was, because no one talked about it, but anyone with eyeballs could see that Stan and Kyle had a gayass little private relationship going on behind Craig’s back. Good for them, or whatever, but if the Spider ever got proof…
Cartman just rolled his eyes. “Scott, you glucose gobbling ass bitch, I’ve literally butchered two people. I know the human body, okay?”
“The fuck.” Cartman’s eyes widened. “Every single one of you dildos had better be praying that there’s no internal bleeding.”
Cartman put his hands up. “Gahdamn, you guys. Just trying to lighten the mood in this hot air balloon to Hell.”
“Ay! Hippie! The Jew had to stay for basketball so I’m here with your buttfucking homework-“
Cartman definitely wanted to rip on him for wallowing in his own sadness, but the sooner he got this loser to be a person again, the better. “No shit, asshole. Your fucking fleshlight is even more intolerable without you to hold him back. You need to come back to school.”
“Also, I’m telling your little prince of Egypt that he can come over. It’s not like he’s gonna catch your Sad Bitch Disease.”
Cartman strolled around the corner, now wearing his frilly ‘widow whose husband died under mysterious circumstances’ robe.
#he’s so fucking funny#i actually love writing my favorite abrasive fuckwad#south park#eric cartman#why are so many of these OJV or from ITTG lmaooo#him in TWITR was fun too#my shit#Cartmanisms#ao3 shit#my writing#he do be callin people buttplugs fleshlights and dildos#also#long live the Fuckwad Jar
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Psycho Analysis: Suicide Squad Team A
(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS! Seriously, as soon as you click that read more, you’re gonna be smacked with SPOILERS! Don’t say I didn’t give you ample warning this time!)
The world’s in danger yet again, and Amanda Waller is in need of some expendable forces to take on some dirty jobs in the name of preserving peace. Last time she did this, it seems like she hired the wrong people. Nice guy Will Smith Deadshot? Bland, boring Killer Croc? El Diablo, who became attached to a bunch of reprobates after spending a couple hours with them? The only one who was useful in that squad was Katana. She had their backs, could cut all of them in half with one sword stroke just like mowing the lawn, and her sword traps the souls of its victims. Unfortunately, she was decidedly not expendable, so what is a girlboss like Waller to do?
Easy: Assemble a brand new squad of criminals to do the dirty work. Harley and Boomerang are the only ones she brought back, because let’s be real, they’re the only ones we give a damn about. Filling out the rest of the squad are the stoic, craggy crackshot Savant; the handsome, German spear-thrower Javelin; the alien warrior Mongal; the frothing, psychotic animal Weasel; the confident and all-powerful TDK; and Blackguard, who is literally just a guy. Together, this team gets deployed to Corto Maltese to do what no one else can do, and with skills like theirs, they are absolutely unstoppable!
They all fucking die before the opening credits.
Motivation/Goals: Considering the goal of the squad is to shave time off their prison sentences by going on the mission, it’s ostensibly the reason every single one of these goons accepted the job. Savant and Weasel are pretty well established in this regard; we get to focus on Savant for much of the opening, so we can get a sense of him, and Weasel is stated to have murdered no less than 27 children. So, yeah, they need to do this mission.
The rest, though? Who knows! Why are Mongal, Javelin, and TDK in prison? How did they even get an alien like Mongal? What did they do to land in the position they’d need to go on a suicide mission? Why doesn’t this movie have flashy, intrusive cards explaining everything to us in a throwaway gag in a montage?!
Blackguard, at least, has some other motivation. He sold out the entire squad to the military of Corto Maltese, which is why they’re ambushed. Now, there’s actually some ambiguity here: Did he do this of his own volition, and was this a complete surprise, or is it, as it is heavily implied, all part of Waller’s plan and she let this happen as a diversion for the other team to get in unnoticed?
Honestly, though, it doesn’t matter what their goals are. They’re all dead within five minutes of the movie starting, with one exception.
Performance: So, the reason these guys are even worth talking about is because, despite their minuscule screentime, all of their actors manage to cram in enough humor and characterization that they’re all pretty fun and likable. Michael Rooker is as stony and stoic as ever as Savant (until he hilariously isn’t), Flula Borg’s Javelin is really sweet and charming in his interactions with Harley, and Pete Davidson’s Blackguard is just amazingly douchey and pathetic. Special mention goes to Nathan Fillion’s TDK, who has an utterly endearing and unwavering faith in his astoundingly crappy ability to… detach his arms. It’s honestly kind of beautiful. Then there’s Weasel as portrayed by Sean Gunn, who is just a hilarious crackhead of an animal man.
Final Fate: Literally every single one of them die horribly thanks to Blackguard’s betrayal. He’s the first to go, because as soon as he walks out saying “Hey guys, it’s me, the one who contacted you!” he literally has his face blasted clean off. The rest go soon after. Mongal, in one of the most astounding moments of idiocy I’ve ever seen, leaps on a helicopter despite Rick Flag telling her specifically not to. Her weight and strength send it careening out of control, which leads to it shredding Captain Boomerang to bits before exploding, burning her alive as she painfully screams and writhes in agony. TDK gets his arms shot into Swiss cheese, leading to him bleeding out since even detached they still are part of him. Javelin is also shot, but gets a dying moment with Harley where he passes her Checkov’s Javelin. Finally, after witnessing all of this carnage, Savant completely loses his shit and tries to swim away, leading to Waller blowing his head up.
You may be wondering what happened to Weasel. He appears to drown as soon as the Squad deploys, because despite being actually smart in this movie, Waller forgot to make sure everyone on the Squad could swim. Thankfully, this lovable child-murdering crackhead rodent was just sleeping, and wakes up in the first credit scene.
Best Scene: Obviously, it’s their one and only scene. It’s a magnificent slaughter that puts the X-Force scene from Deadpool 2 to shame.
Final Thoughts & Score: I’ve gotta hand it to James Gunn. Even though these losers are only onscreen for a few minutes, they all get to cram a lot of charm and personality into that time, to the point it’s actually kind of sad seeing them all die. It’s a beautiful mix of comedy and tragedy. Since their screentime is so limited, though, I’m mostly going to be grading them on style, performance, and so on rather than on villainy like normal. They are all bad guys, as they don’t really get a chance to redeem themselves like the other Squad, so I’m still counting them as villains, which means they could potentially score above an 8 (which is the highest score I’m willing to give heel-face turn villains, because they end up being better as characters in general than as villains).
I’m also not going to talk about Boomerang (I’ll talk about him when I review the original Squad) or Harley (because she not only lives, but deserves her own solo Psycho Analysis). Now here we go, from best to worst:
TDK
If you thought anyone but TDK would get top marks, you’re sadly mistaken. Seeing Nathan Fillion proudly wield the insanely lame power to detach his arms to lightly tap soldiers on the head and gently grab their guns is a sight I never knew I needed to see until this movie. The fact he just seems so darn proud about this power that he doesn’t even bother to use in any way that would be remotely useful is honestly really endearing. Frankly, the sheer fact they adapted Arms-Fall-Off Boy in any way is enough for me to give him a 10/10.
Weasel
Weasel is just disgustingly delightful. He’s just a horrible, nasty, ugly little bastard… But he’s kind of adorable? He clearly has no idea where he is at any given time and is just so goddamn freaky that I can’t help but love him. The fact that, despite being a character who in the comics is noteworthy only for dying on his first mission with the Squad, he manages to survive the entire movie is pretty impressive. Hopefully he comes back in the future, but either way he gets an 8/10 from me.
Javelin
Honestly, aside from Boomerang, his death stung the most. He’s just so cute and charming, and he doesn’t even get to fling his javelin at anyone! Thankfully, he passes it on to Harley, and boy does she ever get to use it! He’s so cute, I have to give him an 8/10. I just wish we got more of him.
Savant
Savant is just an absolutely hilarious bait-and-switch. We follow him through the prologue, with everything seeming to point to him as our main character and the Squad leader. He’s stoic, he’s cranky, and he has impeccable aim… and then we get to the beach and he just freaks the hell out and starts screaming and crying and running away like a little bitch. Seeing Michael Rooker act like he’s shitting his pants after playing a badass like Yondu is just the sort of hilarious subversiveness that James Gunn loves to do when you let him loose. The fact that he looks like, to paraphrase the TVTropes YMMV page for the movie, a “cyberpunk Tommy Wiseau” is the icing on this 7/10 cake.
Blackguard
I was prepared to hate this guy just based on how lame Pete Davidson’s costume was, and you know what? I do hate him. But I love to hate him. He’s just an utterly pathetic scoundrel and a coward, true to his name. The fact he is the first to die, as just about everyone predicted, and is killed absolutely gruesomely makes any annoyance he could provide moot, and his freeakout over being seated next to Weasel on the plane is actually kind of funny. I was originally going to give him a 6, but you know what? He can have a low 7/10. He’s like the only member of this particular Squad to actually do anything evil, so I gotta give him props for that.
Mongal
Let me make this perfectly clear: I do not blame James Gunn or actress Mayling Ng. I’m not actually mad at either of them for what they chose to do, because it is ultimately hilarious and sad. It suited the narrative of the film, and I’m not actually, genuinely mad.
With all that out of the way, Mongal is one hell of a stupid cunt. It is one thing to cause your own death with your stupidity, it is something else entirely to cause the death of a beloved character with your poorly planned attack. The fact she didn’t take into account how her weight and strength would effect an airborne helicopter makes one wonder if she is really supposed to be based on a character who can take on Superman and live to tell about it.
Let’s compare her to two similar characters to really show how bad she is. Like Blackguard, she is directly responsible for a death on the beach, Blackguard being responsible for everyone by selling them out and leading them into an ambush (and yes, I’m including him as well), and Mongal killing Boomerang with the chopper. The difference is, Blackguard’s betrayal was deliberate, he meant to sell the team out, he was actively doing something evil there, while Mongal killed Boomerang out of sheer idiocy.
Now, let’s compare her to Zeitgeist from the similar bloody massacre that occurred during X-Force’s deployment in Deadpool 2. Like Mongal, he accidentally kills a teammate. The difference is, in the case of Zeitgeist, he only accidentally melted Peter, it was a freak accident, and ultimately it does get undone by the end. Meanwhile, Mongal made a conscious, stupid decision and ended up killing her squadmate with her own idiocy. She sucks, hardcore. I don’t do this lightly, but I’m giving her a 1/10. Villains just don’t get much stupider than her.
I will giver her this, though: the makeup work on her is good. She’s lowkey kinda hot if I’m being honest. But being hot and having good makeup does not a good villain make.
#Psycho Analysis#The Suicide Squad#Savant#Michael Rooker#Javelin#Flula Borg#TDK#Nathan Fillion#Weasel#Sean Gunn#Mongal#Mayling Ng#Blackguard#Pete Davidson
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LMAOOO Katsuki gets hit by a quirk that intoxicates him and is sent home afterwords with strict advice from his agency to go straight home for the rest of the day and "enjoy your day off"
It was such a non- dangerous quirk effect that they didn't bother alerting any of the bakusquad of the state he was in, but they end up finding out anyway.
Turns out Bakugo is a huge sappy drunk, but like in a kinda fun way? And he gets way more open than usual.
A series of Twitter tomfoolery:
LEMGDynamight: they always say Bakugo but never bakustay
LEMGDynamight: you guys are kinda right the angry Pomeranian thing is kinda fitting huh
LEMGDynamight: it's not like I can change that nickname now anyway. all I can do is just fucking stand there and sulk like an idiot cuz I'm not about to blast you idiots for being my friend
LEMGDynamight: I've never really had friends.
LEMGDynamight: well...but I'll be damned if I fuck up another good thing like that again
LEMGDynamight: fucking regret of a lifetime holy shit
LEMGDynamight: hah he cried so fucking much when we were kids, the damn nerd. Always had to hug him to get him to stop. Tell him it was okay. That I was there and I always would be. Aways had tear splotches on my shirt like they were meant to be there or sum shit
LEMGDynamight: I wonder how many of his tears went into his pillow when they belonged to me. all because I'm a goddamn fucking idiot
LEMGDynamight: fuck
-20 minutes later-
LEMGDynamight: hahaha I'm watching frozen🤣 That icyhot bastard could never
LEMGDynamight: he needs to give up on firefuck and take some pages outta Elsas notebook holy shit
LEMGDynamight: he could do it they both have the power of depression
LEMGDynamight: @Shoto do me a solid amd make an ice palace lmaooo
LEMGDynamight: @Shoto I won't even blow it up I promise. Learned my lesson about hurting pretty things a long time ago
Shoto: @LEMGDynamight: I will probably never have the control to do something that intricate. Also, it is a children's movie, Bakugo. Are you okay?
Deku!: @LEMGDynamight: Kacchan seriously are you okay? What is going on? Ochako called and woke me up. You've never posted like this before Im worried 😟
LEMGDynamight: @Deku! Don't you worry about me nerd. I'm fucking fine. Kinda need to pee but I don't think I can get off the couch hahahah. Dizzy af
Deku!: @LEMGDynamight why are you dizzy?!? YOU CANT WALK? KACCHAN IM COMING OVER
LEMGDynamight: @Deku! This is a welcome turn of events. Come take care of me nerd
Deku arrived at Katsuki's apartment in record time and after slurring through the explanation of why he was so drunk Izuku promptly led the man to the bathroom and then tucked him in to bed, and headed for the couch, or was before Kacchan asked him, just barely a whisper, for him to stay. So Izuku slept on the other side of the king size bed fearing for his life when Kacchan woke up the next morning to see the Twitter storm and him of all people in his bed.
Speaking of Twitter, it was in shambles. #angrypomeranian was trending, that nickname was a previously private one, not known to the public. The tweets got deleted the next morning after Katsuki woke up remembering it all in vivid detail, turns out the quirk didn't work exactly like alcohol, but the damage had been done. So Katsuki blushed fiercely through the breakfast Deku made and didn't utter more than "fuck, holy shit" "oh my fucking god" and "Deku I'm so fucking sorry" for two whole hours after waking up. The Bakusquad took to handling the storm, tweeting their appreciation of Katsuki as their friend and honestly half-hearted attempts to cover for the cryptic deku tweets. #Dekumakeupwithhim was trending, #Dynamightspilledthebeans was trending, and he had dozens of missed calls and texts from the graduated class 1A, but most irritating, four missed calls from the old hag, and a single text that said "Inks and I called it when you two were brats. Always knew you had it bad for little Izu. Also I saw his tweet that he's coming to check on you. Use protection you brat!"
Bakugo blew the phone up.
#dont think too hard about how the movie frozen even exists in the bnha universe#cuz i sure didnt before i made this#just let it go#bkdk
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Warmth - a Bakugou x Reader Christmas special
its finally done hhhhhh I love how I was just like “Oh yeah I’ll do a short little fic for Christmas” and then I ended up typing this long ass fic. I mean, its not that long but it took me days to write cuz I lack motivation always so it feels long lmao. Anyways, haven’t wrote for my explodey boy bakugou yet so here it is! Let me know if I gave the reader any specific pronouns or features by accident and I’ll fix it right away! I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to reblog if you wanna give my fic more exposure, I'd really appreciate it 😚
Summary: You get caught in the middle of a snowstorm, and when you get home, you’re desperately craving the warmth of your exploding, ragey boyfriend.
Word count: 3.3K
Warnings/other info: swearing, itty bitty reference to sexy times, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, just a lot of fluff (you guys are so mean to each other tho lmao)
You hated winter. Actually, scratch that. Let’s rephrase. You hate snow. No, you had nothing against the actual season. Winter brought you cute Christmas movies and catchy songs, as well as the gift-giving holiday itself. However, snow was a demon, and it could fuck right off. Especially when it was blowing directly into your face like it was now, your snow-covered boots trudging through the thick snow as you held grocery bags in each of your gloved hands. Even though you were wearing a thick winter coat and hat, and had your scarf covering half of your face, you felt like you were about to shiver out of your own skin and god you could barely fucking see with all of this snow going directly into your eyes.
“‘It’s right down the street, y/n, just walk there.’ What am I, fucking stupid?” you muttered.
You had figured it would be better to just walk to the store rather than using up gas or spending money on transportation, and fuck were you dumb for making that decision. Bakugou had warned you too, taking one look outside and telling you it would be better to just go get groceries tomorrow. But noooo, you just had to get it done today. And honestly, it looked like the roads were gonna be shitty for the next few days, so better now than later. Speaking of the roads, there were barely any cars driving on them, which was expected. The plow didn’t look like it had come through yet. However, a vehicle slowly came towards you, going under the speed limit to avoid sliding on the road, and you could hear The Christmas Song playing loudly from inside as it passed. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire? Yeah, the only thing going to be roasting on an open fire was your ass the second you walked through the door. And by an open fire, you meant the heater, which Bakugou better have on full fucking blast, or else you swore you were going to wring his neck.
As your apartment building became closer in view, you doubled your efforts and tried to speed up your pace, but the snow made it almost impossible when it was almost past your shins. Still, you grit your teeth and pushed through, letting out a relieved groan when you walked through the front door of your building and felt heat blast you in the face. Releasing a sigh, your grip tightening on the grocery bags as you traversed up the stairs to your apartment, and when you jammed your keys in the lock and pushed through the door, it was just as you suspected. Too fucking cold.
“He’s dead. He’s a dead man. He knew I was going out in the fucking arctic tundra that is the city right now, but he chose to keep the thermostat at fucking 70 degrees?!” you thought, grumbling to yourself as you set the bags down in the kitchen and marched over to the thermostat.
“Hey, take your fucking boots off, will you? You’re tracking snow.”
You raised your middle finger in the direction the voice came from, not even looking back
at your boyfriend as you turned the dial of the thermostat and watched the numbers go up until you were satisfied. Turning to look at Bakugou with a glare, you said something that he could tell was filled with frustration and anger, but he could barely hear you when you were talking through your scarf, raising an eyebrow as if to silently say, “what the fuck are you saying?” Rolling your eyes, you toed off your boots and hung up your coat, taking off your gloves and hat next before unwrapping your scarf from around your face and neck.
“I said you’re a fucking maniac. How are you not freezing?” you asked, hurrying past Bakugou to your shared bedroom so that you could change into something warmer.
Bakugou just scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you change. “You remember what my quirk is, right?”
Slipping one of Bakugou’s large hoodies over your head, you let out a sigh. “Oh right, I forgot that along with the ability to blow shit up, you’re also a walking heat box,” you said, throwing the hood over your head as you turned to your boyfriend with a small pout.
He just looked at you with an amused smirk, a single eyebrow quirked as he looked you up and down. He had to admit, he’d never get tired of seeing you in his clothes. Though he quickly became worried when a mischievous grin appeared on your face, and he had no time to react when you were running forward and slipping your hands underneath his shirt, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.
“Gah! Shit, you’re fucking freezing!” he yelled, trying to push you off of him, but you just tightened your hold as you buried your face in his chest. “Hey! Don’t you get comfy, get the hell off of me.”
“But you’re so waaarm,” you whined, looking up at him with cute puppy dog eyes. You weren’t lying, he was very warm, and you’d be damned if you pulled away from him anytime soon.
Letting out a growl through clenched teeth, Bakugou gripped your thighs in his hands and suddenly lifted you, and you let out a noise of surprise, not expecting your feet to come off the ground as your legs automatically wrapped around him so that you wouldn’t fall. Carrying you back into the living room, he threw you on the couch and pinned you with a glare when you tried to move, not walking away until he was certain you wouldn’t get up from that couch. Once he turned his back to you, you sat up on your knees and looked over the back of the couch as Bakugou walked into the kitchen, bending over the reach into one of the bags, and holy fuck his ass in those sweatpants was downright fucking sinful. As the cool kids would say, he was, “double cheeked up on a Thursday afternoon.”
“It’s Saturday, and stop staring at my ass, you damn perv,” Bakugou grumbled without looking back at you, and you pursed your lips as you raised your hands in surrender.
“Not my fault you’re so dummy thicc.”
“For the love of god, stop watching TikTok.”
You just laughed and stood from the couch, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter as you watched your boyfriend put the groceries away. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I can put them away.”
“Nonsense. You were just out freezing your ass off in the snow. Now get back on that couch before I throw you on it again,” he said.
You smiled at the kind gesture. While Bakugou was often rude and uncouth, not making an effort to hide his frustration or disdain for certain people or things, there was a soft spot deep down in there, and you were lucky enough to be one of the few people he showed it too. Of course, it was hardly willingly. You were persistent as hell, getting under his skin the moment you started going to UA with him. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like your persistence.
Letting out a small hum to yourself, you leaned over and pressed your lips against his cheek, his skin warming up under your touch. “You’re cute.”
A light pink dusted his cheeks as you walked back to the couch and plopped down onto the soft cushions, grabbing the fluffy blanket hanging over the back and draping it around your shoulders. No, if anyone in this relationship was cute, it was you. With the way you stole his clothes and just seemed to always make them look better, or made him his bento lunch with cute little notes inside that he secretly kept in his desk and would look at whenever he needed a little pick-me-up. You probably didn’t realize how much he noticed every little thing you did, but he did, and it made him fall more in love with you every day. Of course, he wasn’t very eloquent and it was hard for him to express how he felt with words, but he was a believer in how actions spoke louder.
“Hey, dipstick! You almost done? I’m about to freeze my ass off over here and I need my cuddle buddy,” you yelled from the living room, and Bakugou’s eyebrow twitched as he scoffed, running a hand over his face. You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?
“Yeah, yeah, wait a sec, would you? Not my fault your body can’t regulate temperature like a normal fucking human being.”
Your head popped up, looking over the couch at your boyfriend with an incredulous look on your face. “‘Normal?!’ What about you is normal, Mr. I-get-unnecessarily-ragey-and-blow-shit-up? Hm?”
“Oh and you think you’re so normal when you bought fucking ice cream in the middle of goddamn winter,” he said, holding up the tub of ice cream you recently bought on your trip to the store.
“Ice cream is good for any time of the year! And you have no room to judge me. It could be a hundred degrees out and you’ll be scarfing down a bowl of spicy ramen like it’s your last meal.”
“You don’t hear me complaining about it though, do you?”
You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you pouted. “Jerk. you know, I hope your quirk just one day combusts and you blow up your own face.”
“Fuckface.”
“Asshole.”
“Dumbass.”
“Mama’s boy.”
Eyes widening, he dropped the last grocery bag on the floor and stomped over to the couch. If you were any normal person, you probably would’ve been cowering in fear just from the pro-heroes intense stair. But you had been with Bakugou for a while now, and what “normal” person would date someone whose first draft of their hero name was Lord Explosion Murder anyway? He placed his hands on the top of the couch, looking down at you as you stared up at him with a shit-eating grin on your face.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“Oh, I think you heard me.”
“Take it back or I’m blowing up all of your Deku shirts.”
You gasped dramatically, placing both of your hands over your heart as you gaped at your boyfriend before narrowing your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
He didn’t say anything, simply raising an eyebrow at your challenge before walking towards your shared bedroom without another word. Oh. Oh, he was being serious. Scrambling off the couch, you ran after him.
“No! Nononono, wait. Ugh, All right!”
He turned to look at you, one of your shirts of the Pro hero Deku held tight in his fist and a smirk on his face that meant trouble. You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at the nearby wall, not wanting to see that stupid little grin on his stupid face.
“You… You’re- not a mama’s boy,” you muttered under your breath, coughing to make the words more unintelligible.
“I’m sorry, what did you say? I think I feel my hand warming up a bit.”
“Ugh, fine! You’re not a mama’s boy. Happy?”
Grin widening, he dropped the shirt and walked over to you in long strides, closing the distance quickly and placing his hands on your waist. “See? Was that so hard?”
“Absolutely teeth-pulling,” you said, dropping your head on his chest as he chuckled, bringing a hand up to gently pat your head. Of course, there wasn’t a lot about you two that was so different from each other. You both had a mutual hatred for backing down. He then looked over at the bed where the green-haired hero’s smiling face stared back at him, and he scowled.
“Why do you have so many shirts of that damn nerd anyway?”
“I don’t have that many, Katsu.”
“You have like ten. You don’t have any merch of me.” His grip on you tightened possessively, and if he wasn’t aware of it, you certainly were, smiling against his chest before lifting your head.
“Why would I need merch when I have the real life thing right here?” you asked, poking at his abs. “Besides, it’s not like I bought them. They were gifts whenever he had new designs come out.”
“And you couldn’t just refuse?”
“Even if you have some weird tension with him, that doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with him, dummy.” You lightly flicked his forehead and slipped out of his grasp as you walked back out to the living room, and he followed close behind with furrowed brows.
“Weird tension? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”
You just looked at him with raised eyebrows and shrugged, dropping down onto the couch before pulling out your phone. It took him a second to understand what you were getting at, and when he did, he wanted to vomit up his lunch.
“Oh, you’re sick.”
You threw your hands up. “I’m not saying I ship it! Your Twitter followers certainly do, though.”
“Yeah well, they’re all weirdos anyway,” he said, sitting down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you immediately relaxed into him, content with the warmth he seemed to produce 24/7. “The only person I wanna be…” he grimaced, shaking his head, “shipped with is you.”
You smiled, looking up at Bakugou as you placed your hand on his chest. “I think people would if we didn’t constantly insult each other while we’re out in public. And you know, if you were actually affectionate with me.”
“I’m affectionate!” he yelled, arm tightening around you. “Those damn extras don’t need to see that shit anyway. Not like it’s any of their business.”
You chuckled and moved to straddle Bakugou’s thighs, hands taking their time as you dragged them up his muscular torso and splayed your fingers over his chest. You admired the man below you with a small smile on your face, his hands moving so that they rested on your thighs, giving them a small squeeze, and you watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip as he seemed to look at you with that same red-eyed intense stare that he always did. Leaning down, you placed a slow kiss against his lips but pulled away before he could deepen it, and he chased your lips with a quiet growl as you let out an amused huff.
“Would you…” You could tell he was hesitant, never knowing how to properly express what he wanted to say, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. You placed your lips against his cheek, gently holding his face in your hands to try and reassure him. “Would you like me to be more affectionate in public? Would that… make you happy?”
Brows furrowing, your lips formed into a frown as you sat back, hands slipping into his. “Katsu… we’ve been together since our high school days. If I had any complaints, wouldn’t I have voiced them by now?” He opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance to respond, grabbing his face again. “Listen to me for a second. Despite what people think about your rough edges and your unpleasant attitude-”
“Watch it.”
You smiled. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. Your random outbursts, your sailor mouth, your shitty nicknames for all of our friends. Those things are what make you Bakugou Katsuki. Not some shitty tabloid with that stupid headline that’s like “Ten things to know about Pro Hero Dynamight!” or whatever. They’re all bullshit. No one sees the side of you that I get to. No one sees the big softie that you really are.” You lightly poked Bakugou’s chest with a giggle, and he swatted at your hand.
“Hey, I’m not soft, you dumbass,” he grumbled, and you just laughed as you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead on his shoulder.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
You heard him sigh and felt his arms wrap around you, happy in his strong embrace. There was nowhere you felt safer than in Bakugou’s arms. They were always there to hold you at night, or to pull you into a hug when you were feeling upset. You loved his arms, but you loved him in general. Everything about him always had butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. When he would gaze at you like you were the only other person in the world, or when he’d come home after a particularly rough day, and you’d offer to help him relieve some stress, but he’d insist that the only thing on his mind at the moment was you underneath him while he memorized and tasted every inch of you. Yeah, you were a love-struck idiot, but so was he. Maybe even more so.
You were brought out of your thoughts when the lights started to flicker before going out, and you waited a few seconds for them to come back on, but they never did. Are you fucking kidding me?
“Um… Katsuki?”
“Hm.”
“Please tell me our power didn’t just go out.”
“Our power didn’t go out.”
You smacked his chest. “Don’t be a smartass.”
“Then don’t say stupid shit.”
You let out a groan before whining out his name, and he sighed as he lifted you off of him and walked into the kitchen to grab his phone. It was like you could already feel the cold seeping back into the apartment through the cracks in the doors and windows, and you shivered as you grabbed the blanket from before and wrapped it around your body. Bakugou then came back into the living room, letting out a sigh and tossing his phone onto the couch.
“Some idiot driving in this shit-storm hit a pole and took down a transformer. Power won’t be back until the morning.”
Great. Just magnificent. Who the fuck decides to drive in a snowstorm? Letting out a huff, you stood and went to the kitchen to find a lighter before lighting every candle you two had, hoping they would provide enough light for the night. After making sure at least one candle was in every room, you went back to find Bakugou gathering all the blankets he could and raised an eyebrow.
“What? We both know our comforter won’t be enough to warm your shivering ass.”
“But I have you, don’t I? My personal heater,” you said, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you smiled.
Bakugou scoffed. “Yeah, can’t wait for you to suck all the heat out of me.”
“Oh piss off. You love my cuddles.”
Before he could give you another snarky remark, you turned on your heel and walked to your bedroom, pulling back the covers and immediately tucking yourself underneath them. But of course, it wasn’t warm enough. When Bakugou walked into the room, you stuck a hand out from under the blanket and made a grabbing motion, and he just chuckled at you before throwing an extra blanket on top of you and climbing underneath the covers to lay next to you. You immediately sought him out, desperate for his warmth as you wrapped yourself around him and nuzzled into his chest, and his arms looped around you as he tangled your legs together.
“Christ, you’re fucking freezing,” he grumbled.
“Shut up and hold me tighter,” you said voice muffled as you spoke into his chest, and he did as you asked, his arms tightening around you as you let out a content sigh.
Relaxing in the silence, you felt yourself begin to grow more tired with each second that passed, and your boyfriend seemed to relax as well, which was rare for him. You both were perfectly content, dozing off in each other’s embrace.
“... So should I get a mistletoe for the apartment?”
“Dear god, shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”
#bakugou imagine#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#mha imagine#bnha imagine#mha x reader#katsuki bakugou#dynamight#bakugou fluff#mha christmas#mha fanfic#bakugo x reader
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The ole literally stuck together trope, tddk edition
1A is doing a practice activity, battling each other, and Midoriya and Todoroki are up against Mineta and Bakugou. Midoriya accidentally touches one of Mineta's balls, but he just takes his glove off and all his well. He keeps fighting.
But then he gets caught up in one of Bakugou's explosions and, momentarily blinded, is hit in the hand again with a ball. No glove this time, so he's stuck with it, but he got hit on the back of the hand, so it's not as debilitating as it could be.
Or at least, that's what he thinks, until Todoroki appears by his side, to regroup, but is knocked into him by Bakugou. The back of his hand hits the ball, and just like that, Todoroki and Midoriya are stuck together.
It's fine though! If anything, Midoriya sees this as unique opportunity to practice their teamwork. They go through some hiccups, getting in each other's way, but eventually they find a rhythm and fall in sync with each other, fighting like a well oiled machine.
But then Bakugou creates a large explosion, not realizing Mineta was in the blast range (it honestly was a mistake...Mineta is small and easy to lose track of). Mineta is knocked out cold and the fight is stopped as he's taken to Recovery Girl. She tells them she'll let Aizawa know when he's up and sends them on their way. Midoriya asks about the ball gluing himself and Todoroki together and she shakes her head, simply saying that she's sure Mineta will help them once he's awake.
She doesn't tell Aizawa right away. Maybe it's because she wants to be the one causing Midoriya trouble for once, instead of the other way around, or she wants revenge on him for always worrying her, or she saw chemistry between him and Todoroki and decided to play matchmaker. Regardless, when Mineta wakes up, he asks for the time, mentioning that it was Saturday and he had plans to go home after class and spend Sunday with his parents (UA has class on Saturday, if you didn't know). She rushes him out, saying he'll miss the last train if he doesn't hurry and off he goes, gone for at least 24 hours. She calls Aizawa to tell him, and "oops" she "forgot" about poor Midoriya and Todoroki. Oooh well. They'll be fine, she's sure.
Meanwhile. Midoriya and Todoroki have been awkwardly getting by, doing homework together, cooking dinner together, accidentally touching each other and finding their faces way too close together, and getting mercilessly teased by their classmates together. They're both still in their costumes, because they can't remove them with their hands linked and they feel sweaty and gross. Aizawa comes to the dorms, bearing the good bad news that they'll need to tough it out. He lets them know their costumes will be fixed quickly, if they decide to cut themselves out of them, so they can change into clean clothes. He finishes by telling them to think of it as a team building exercise.
They both want to get clean and change clothes, but how??? Just go shirtless? Yaomomo comes to their aid, making them matching shirts that are sleeveless on just one side. She explains they might be a liiiittle tight "to ensure the sleeveless side doesn't fall down." Midoriya accepts this, but Todoroki is suspicious. She winks at him when Midoriya isn't looking and mouths "you're welcome." This makes him more suspicious.
They go to Midoriya's room, cause it's closer, and go about getting their costumes off. First they try scissors, which is painstakingly slow, so Midoriya ends up just ripping their clothes off them, one handed. Todoroki has never felt so flustered in his life cause like, that was so hot??? Midoriya just ripped his shirt off, and then his own? Goddamn.
They're down to their boxers and they both want to get clean before changing, cause they're gross, but that means showering together.
They bite the bullet. They decide that they'll get in the shower together, but one will wear his boxers, at least, and they'll use a strip of fabric from one of their ripped costumes to make a blindfold. One wears boxers and is blindfolded while the other gets clean. Once done, the clean one will put his boxers on and then the blindfold will be traded so the other can strip.
It feels dumb, but it's all they can think of. One thing they forgot though is that their showers are small. And being stuck together doesn't help. Midoriya washes first, and it's awful, because he keeps accidentally bumping into him, and one time he grabs Todoroki's arm, to keep his balance in the small space, and he's nervous talking, and Todoroki is realizing that being blindfolded in a shower next to your sexy, naked friend might actually be more erotic than either of them realized. He thinks it will be better with the blindfold off, but hoooo boy, is he wrong, cause Midoriya is more than half naked, and he's dripping wet, and it turns out that seeing the blindfold on his sexy, dripping wet, mostly naked friend is even more erotic. Plus they're still accidentally bumping into each other a bit, and Todoroki feels like he's going to explode. Midoriya is getting redder and redder as he stands there blindfolded, and Todoroki can't tell if he's blushing or if he himself has been accidentally upping the temperature of the room with his right side, during his internal meltdown, and Midoriya is getting overheated.
After what seems like an eternity, they finish the shower. Midoriya keeps the blindfold on while Todoroki towels off and puts on clean boxers and shorts. Once he's decent, Midoriya tells him he can just close his eyes, instead of the blindfold, so he does. Midoriya towels off as well and gets half dressed. Together, they figure out the shirts. They have to step into them, but they're stretchy so it isn't impossible. They are tight though, like Yaomomo promised, so they end up having to help each other pull them up and maneuver their arms into the sleeve. There's lots of touching involved and they both feel like passing out. Once they finally have them on though, they realize these are the sexiest shirts they've ever seen. Also, Midoriya's is about an inch too short, so a little bit of his midriff is showing. Thank you indeed, Yaomomo.
The rest of their time together is pretty soft. They watch a movie in the common area, with some other classmates and at first they’re sitting stiffly next to each other, but that gets uncomfortable and tedious. Midoriya caves first and asks in a whisper, blushing, if Todoroki minds if they lean on each other "just to be more comfortable! That's all!" Todoroki agrees and it isn't long before leaning melts into full blown cuddling. They go to bed after the movie, in Todoroki's room, because his futon is wider than Midoriya's mattress. They try to keep their distance, but when they wake up in the morning they're tangled together. Yaomomo made them each two shirts, identical, so Midoriya rips their shirts off again (be still Todoroki's heart) and they change, then do cute stuff like brush their teeth together and make breakfast together.
As they go through the day, they grow more and more comfortable being in each other's space and moving to help each other without needing to be asked. They're both constantly thinking of each other, realizing how endearing the others little daily habits and mannerisms are, and how thoughtful the other is, and they've both always found the other attractive, but now that they've been forced to spend so much time together, in such an intimate way, they both realize that maybe their feelings aren't entirely platonic.
Of course, Mineta does return, by early evening. He laughs at them so hard he cries, but he does unstick them. Once they're alone, Todoroki admits that he sort of had fun, being stuck together. Midoriya agrees and says he thinks he'll kind of miss it, because he likes Todoroki's company so much. They fumble over their words a bit, both flustered, but eventually they agree that both of them would like to spend more time together. And it takes them a while to figure themselves out. They start spending most of their free time together. They start going off campus together, basically on dates, though they don't call it that. They start referring to each other by their first names and they start spending the night in each other's dorm rooms frequently. And one night, while they're squished together in Midoriya's small bed, Midoriya has a moment of bravery and tells Todoroki that he thinks he likes him as more than a friend. Todoroki says he also thinks he likes him as more than a friend, and asks to kiss him. They share their first kiss and it's soft and gentle and caring and everything both of them ever wanted.
#I guess the alternate version of this is they just have passionate sex in the shower#choose your own adventure or whatever idk#tddk#tododeku#todoroki x midoriya#todoroki x deku#todoizu#todomido#shouto x izuku#skyll rambles#tddk drabble#sort of?#idk what to call this#i’m writing a real tddk fanfic and this is my break from that#cause it’s kind of long and I’m like hhnnngghh#bnha
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Chicken Noodle Soup with Tea on the Side
Part 2 to “Bring the Soup”
Summary: Following their life-changing yet draining Love Yourself world tour, Bangtan returns home with three very sick members. Hoseok and Yoongi have caught Taehyung’s miserable cold, but are lucky that the other members offer the best caretaking with lots of soup, tissues, and cuddles.
Sickies: Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung
Caretakers: Seokjin, Namjoon, Jimin, Jungkook
Word Count: 2262
Author’s Note: Hi!! Huge thanks to @snifflyjoonie and @chickennoodlej-hope for encouraging me to write a part 2! I hope you all like it!
~~~~~
Namjoon moans quietly with his eyes closed, turning up the volume on his “Relaxing Deep Sleep Sounds” playlist to full blast. It is a futile attempt to lull himself to sleep, as it isn’t very soothing or sleep-inducing to have anything played at full volume through one’s AirPods. He gives it five minutes before he groans and rolls over, pulling the blanket up and over his head, failing to block out any extraneous sounds. Five more minutes, and he gives up on sleeping all together, throwing the blanket off and over his lap as he huffs in annoyance.
How is anyone supposed to sleep when the soft and calming whirring of the airplane’s jets are constantly being interrupted by a volley of coughs and sniffles? For the last two hours since take-off from Paris back to Korea, Namjoon has been listening to Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung trading off, like clockwork, each coughing and giving a series of nose blows one after the other. Every. Goddamn. Minute. And it is driving Namjoon slightly insane as he aims to get some much needed sleep after the end of their exciting but grueling world tour.
He relaxes slightly, however, upon looking over at Yoongi’s tired eyes as the rapper stares lazily at his phone in the dim cabin lights. Yoongi has on a large beanie and is bundled up in a warm blanket in his seat on the private jet. He continues to give soft yet rough coughs, muffling them into the blanket that he had grabbed to warm his chills. Yoongi is generally a quiet person, never one for dramatics or theatrics when it came to anything, really. But if Namjoon wasn’t mistaken, he hasn’t heard Yoongi mutter a word since the group arrived to the airport that morning. He imagines that his fellow songwriter must be suffering from one hell of a sore throat. Namjoon misses Yoongi’s gummy smile.
Next to Yoongi, Hoseok sits watching a movie. Namjoon can tell he isn’t quite paying attention though. Seokjin had placed his beloved RJ plush on Hoseok’s lap when he had started the film, hoping it might cheer him up. But now, RJ is pushed to the side of the seat in favor of a tissue box. Hoseok, as much as he loved watching movies on flights, is constantly forced to focus on blowing his nose instead. Used tissues litter the floor. Namjoon knows his poor 94-liner must be feeling exhausted and groggy, as Hoseok is the God of Cleanliness in the group. On any normal day, Hoseok would’ve shrieked to find used tissues anywhere but in the trash can where germs belonged.
Across the aisle, Taehyung has his head laid on Jimin’s shoulder. Too congested to breathe through his nose, he is forced to breathe warm, heavy breaths out of his mouth, drying out his lips. Jimin pulls a stick of chapstick out of his pocket and carefully applies it for him. Jimin knows Taehyung is thankful by the way he nestles his feverish forehead against Jimin’s neck. All he wants is for Taehyung to sleep, or at least manage a short nap. Every time he doses off, he sputters awake as the congestion in his nose makes it harder and harder to breathe.
The group is in bad shape. Namjoon wasn’t surprised when Yoongi and Hoseok admitted to catching Taehyung’s cold. He had walked in on the three of them sleeping in a hotel bed together and, while that definitely hadn’t been the most ideal given the members’ already weakening immune systems from the constant travel, knew that Hobi and Yoongi had done it to keep Tae company. Namjoon remembers Taehyung’s tear-stricken face at the end of their show in Paris and is honestly glad that Hobi and Yoongi had been willing to stay with him.
Thankfully, the group is on their way home. Soon, the three sick members can lay down in their own beds, take their medicine, and sleep to their hearts’ content. Until then, Namjoon wants his own sleep. He is exhausted. It isn’t easy being a leader on a world tour.
He rummages in his bag for some cough drops.
“Yoongi-ah...” he murmurs.
Yoongi looks up from his phone and is grateful to see Namjoon handing him the bag. He nods his thanks, pulling one out and handing the bag to Hoseok. He tosses it to Jimin, who grabs one and opens it, sliding it into Taehyung’s mouth. The bag finally makes its way back to Joon.
He smiles, glad to be helping his members and to hopefully be getting some sleep soon. Namjoon is so grateful when the coughing dies down in minutes as the three sick boys let the warm menthol ease their sore throats.
Namjoon curls back into his seat under the blanket and closes his eyes. His muscles relax and he sighs contently.
Sadly, the menthol makes its way into Taehyung’s congested and hypersensitive nose.
“Hh’TSCHHh!! Hh’!... HhETSSHH’huH!! hHAASHHh!!”
Gosh, this is going to be long flight.
-
The flight is long indeed, and rather somber as the world tour excitement wears off and is replaced with a light post-concert, post-travel sadness. It happens every time—it is nothing new.
But this time more than ever, Yoongi just wants to lay in his own bed, in his own room, and sleep. He craves the ability to drift off and rid himself of the buzzing headache and constantly running nose. He trudges alongside the group and their staff, doing his best to show smiling, shiny eyes behind his mask as they walk through Incheon airport to their awaiting cars.
He is oblivious to Seokjin trailing closely behind him, watching his every step as if Yoongi might crumble any moment. Jimin does the same to Taehyung, while Jungkook walks with his arm over Hoseok’s shoulders to keep him steady.
At reaching their cars, they mindlessly split into two groups, the maknae line in one, the hyung line in the other.
In moments after the car has pulled out onto the streets, Hoseok’s head has lulled to the side, falling onto Namjoon’s shoulder. The leader smiles to himself as his friend’s breath transforms into light, congested snoring.
“He’s out,” he murmurs, and Seokjin turns around from the front seat to look.
“I’m jealous,” Yoongi mumbles from the seat next to them, his warm forehead pressed against the cold glass window of the SUV.
“Don’t worry, Yoongi-ah. We’re almost home,” Seokjin gives a look of empathy. His naturally goofy and upbeat demeanor is diminished by the hurt he feels for his sick friends.
“hHESHHhuh!” Yoongi responds with a heavy sneeze and a groan of pain.
-
In the other car, Taehyung has hit rock bottom of the miserable cold. He is laid across Jungkook’s lap, head resting on the maknae’s large thigh. His throbbing headache is from thick congestion, which has sat with him throughout the entirety of the flight despite how many times he aimed to blow his nose. His fever rages, not at all helped by the transition from the warm plane to the chilly airport to the heated car. It makes him feel cloudy, and he hasn’t spoken a word to anyone in hours.
As a sad and clingy sickie, his only comforts are Jimin and Jungkook’s hands running through his hair and rubbing circles on his back. He wants cuddles. He wants Yeontan. He wants to hear Yoongi’s Daegu dialect telling him he’ll feel better soon.
-
It’s a day and a half later. The sounds of soft, shuffling feet pull Yoongi from his sleep on the couch. He gives a soft sigh and nestles further into the couch cushions, sniffling lightly as his nose had started to run while he napped. He can’t tell what time it is, but knows he has hardly passed the threshold of a satisfactory nap. The pounding headache and sore throat that he developed a few days ago are still bothering him, exhaustion from the Europe tour and his cold compounding into hours spent in bed.
Pulling the blankets more tightly over his shoulder, Yoongi keeps his eyes closed as the feet shuffle behind the couch and towards the kitchen. They stop suddenly, followed by a sharp intake of breath, and a quick fit of stifled sneezes.
“Hh!—hH’tsCH! h’ngTXxt! haH-tSCh!!”
The last one tumbles out.
“hHAT‘Shiiew!!”
“... bless you.” Yoongi mumbles into the blanket. Hoseok jumps a foot in the air.
“Aish, Yoongi-ah!” He peers over the back of the couch and down onto Yoongi. He still has his eyes closed.
“What?” Another soft mumble.
“I didn’t know you were there! What are you doing on the couch?”
“... Taking a nap?”
Hobi rolls his eyes, but walks over and sits on the couch. He grabs a tissue from the table and blows his now dripping nose.
“Yeah, but shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Yoongi pops an eye over to look up at Hobi.
“I’ve been in bed. For two straight days...” he quips, followed by a few rough coughs. Normally, he’d marvel at the ability to spend hours in bed napping, but the sore throat, body aches, and harsh sneezes were beginning to make him grumpy.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed? Why are you creeping around anyway?”
“I was trying to keep quiet. Taehyung is sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him,” Hoseok scrubs at his tired eyes.
“He’s sick, Hoba. He could sleep through anything. Namjoonie dropped a glass yesterday, and he didn’t even flinch from his spot on the couch.”
Hoseok giggled at their leader’s clumsy but endearing habits.
“I just wanted to make some lunch. I’m hungry.”
“Hungry?” Seokjin walks into the room carrying a small box of cold medicine. “Hyung will cook you something.”
“Soup?” A raspy voice appears behind Seokjin. Taehyung shuffles in with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his hair a floppy mess. His voice has started to come back, but his rough, frequent sneezes continue to rip through his throat, minimizing any progress.
“Aren’t you tired of soup, Taehyung-ah? You’ve been eating soup for four days in a row.” Seokjin chuckles.
“I’m not tired of your soup, hyung. It’s the best.”
The eldest’s ears blush red, not uncommon when he receives complements.
“Chicken noodle soup?” Seokjin asks as Taehyung sits next to Hobi and hugs him, wrapping them both with the blanket he had around his shoulders.
“With a soda on the side?” Hobi giggles at the idea of his own song, forcing himself into a coughing fit.
“No, tea,” Seokjin replies, making his caretaker mode clear.
“Ha, says the man who thought drinking alcohol would cleanse his throat when he had a cold,” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in a teasing manner, hinting at the livestream in which Jin and Jimin had exposed the alcohol they had stashed in their hotel room.
“Yah, I knew what I was doing. And it helped—my sore throat went away!” Seokjin defended.
“Good, I’m going to drink some liquor then,” Yoongi states. Jin face palms.
“Seokjin-hyung is right, you should all be drinking tea,” Namjoon walks in after hearing his friends’ light bickering. “Tea will make you feel better. I’ll make it for you while Jin-hyung makes soup,” he nodded towards Seokjin, and the two moved to the kitchen to prepare the items for their sick members.
Before Yoongi has any time to drift off back to sleep, Joon and Seokjin walk over with bowls of soup and teacups filled with warm, lemon-honey tea on trays. Seokjin places each individual bowl and teacup on the small coffee table in the center of the room while Namjoon is tasked with dealing out cold medicine. In moments, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung are all quietly sipping broth, the steam rising and making their noses run.
Jimin and Jungkook return just in time from the gym and from stopping by the store. They carry bags flowing with tissues, cough drops, and vapor rub. Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung thank their fellow members for their endless support, feeling drowsy as they finish their meals and let the cold medicine work it’s magic.
Namjoon plops down on the floor and opens a book while the others gather together on the couches. He begins reading, engrossed in the plot. He finishes a chapter and looks up to find everyone asleep together.
Yoongi lays in his usual curled up position on his side. Jin had sat on the floor with his back against the couch and had fallen asleep with his head leaning back next to Yoongi’s. The two eldest members share the pillow, Yoongi’s cheek smushed into it while Jin’s head laid on the corner.
Hoseok and Jungkook lay cuddled together on the opposite couch. It was no secret that Jungkook loved the smell of his Hobi-hyung. Hoseok had washed his hair earlier that morning in hopes of de-muddling his brain and de-congesting his nose. Jungkook sniffed in the fragrant scent of his shampoo and conditioner and had fallen asleep with Hobi in his arms.
Namjoon is not surprised to see Taehyung and Jimin bundled together in a heap of blankets. Taehyung has his arms wrapped around his soulmate and nose buried in Jimin’s neck. Tired from his gym session with the maknae, Jimin had fallen asleep in moments, happy to give Taehyung all the cuddles he needed.
Namjoon chuckles at the sight of his team, his forever family, happily dozing together and getting proper rest. Two more chapters, he tells himself, before he will wake Seokjin to make dinner for the healthy members and to serve Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung—surprise—soup.
#bts snz#bts sickfic#sick!taehyung#sick!yoongi#sick!hoseok#caretaker!namjoon#caretaker!seokjin#caretaker!jimin#caretaker!jungkook
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wall to wall (m.) 01
↳ in a pornographic movie, refers to a series of sex scenes with no plot.
⇁ female reader x hoseok
⇁ smut, porn star!au
⇁ sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification (not the sexy kind), role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, porn star level dirty talk, stuff that should never happen in a kitchen bc hygiene, daddy kink, impreg kink, rough sex, spanking, a lot of finger sucking, this fic is a poor attempt at social commentary
⇁ 22.5k
. . .
Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman.
Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.
↳ or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action collab : )
part 01 | part 02 | part 03
author’s note | inspired by the piece ‘slut-shaming: pornstars are humans too’ & the life after porn documentaries on netflix. thank u to jordan, eva, amy, venus, addie and lu for being a part of this collab !! *inserts a million heart emojis and a big fat NUT emoticon*
re:warnings, the slut shaming is done by others and can also be considered as internalized oppression. it’s something the reader struggles with and eventually works to overcome. this first part isn’t as smutty as the second but regardless i hope u can bear with me lol. ty, as always, for giving my writing a chance. i hope u enjoy it or at least take something from it !
wall2wall can be read as a sequel to my fic money shot. same disclaimer applies: this story does claim to accurately portray the world of adult entertainment
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SCENE 01 - YOU’VE GOT MALE. TAKE 01. ROLL A.
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Today is just one of those days you wish you had slept straight through. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be dying from the sheer dullness of having nothing to do.
You huff out a sigh, bored out of your goddamn mind.
Head cradled in the crook of your left palm, you use your available hand to refresh your instagram feed. Much to your disappointment, nothing new shows up. The same video of a dog chasing its own tail plays on but you pay it no heed, the novelty having worn off after the first few times.
The next half hour passes by in a similar fashion, each result proving to be as unavailing as the last. You’d think that after a while you’d give up and find a new distraction to pass the time but whether out of habit or boredom-induced insanity, you persist with your fruitless attempts.
Today really fucking blows, you think glumly, the curve of your mouth thinning into a grimace. As the adorable corgie keeps the infernal cycle going, yapping and running around incessantly, you’re struck with a terrifying thought. Maybe this is how you will die - condemned to live your life stuck in the worst sort of monotony imaginable.
What you had expected to be a “quick and easy” shoot has turned into a tedious ordeal that you don’t see ending anytime soon. And whilst on-set complications and prolongations are frequent enough that they’re almost expected, today really takes the cake. Even during your rookie days, you can’t recall running into delays of this scale.
To top it off, the weather app announces a record-breaking heat - which in itself is bad enough. As luck would have it, it gets worse. The place rented out for today’s filming lacks proper air conditioning, equipped instead with electric fans that look like they’ve been around since the 1980s.
A quick glance into the vanity mirror confirms that you look as frazzled as you feel. Because of the humidity level that weighs down the air, your hair is in a right state. You fight a grimace off your face. The straggly hair coupled with the oily sheen on your face...it’s far from your best look, to say the least.
And to think thousands of people will get to see it up close in 1080p resolution... It’s a terrifying concept.
You’re already dreading the upcoming sex scenes that you’ve yet to film. It’s always a messy affair - fluids of all kind end up literally everywhere - but the sweltering heat undoubtedly makes it ten times worse. A shudder works its way down your spine.
Frankly speaking, the mere thought of having hot and wild sex in these less than ideal working conditions kills your libido. Under the glaring studio lights, surrounded by sweaty crewmen and pressed up an equally feverish body - it’s basically the porn equivalent of a fuckin’ barbecue party.
Yeah, no thanks. You’d rather be at home, with the air conditioner at full blast, nestled in the comfy cushions of your sofa as you marathon a series of your choice on netflix. Only the promised sum of money keeps you from bolting and calling it quits altogether.
“So when are you gonna drop the new boy toy?” a voice buzzes in your ear not unlike a pesky fly.
Tempting as it is to ignore it, you peel your eyes away from your reflection just in time to catch Seokjin shoot you the most unimpressed look in his repertoire, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in judgment.
In the background, an old ceiling fan whirs on but does nothing to cool you off. If anything, its constant rattling only exacerbates your growing headache.
“What are you talking about?" You flick a piece of imaginary lint off your dressing robe, your tone neutral.
Seokjin’s brown eyes see right through your feigned air of indifference. Months of working by your side have made him an expert at reading your body language, be it naked or clothed. A wolfish grin adorns his face as he swoops in for the kill.
“Oh come on. You know exactly who I’m talking about. Jongmin. He’s short - comes up to right about here.” Seokjin holds a hand up to his chest to illustrate his point, deliberately shaving off a few inches off your boyfriend’s height in order to antagonize you.
You bite the inside of your cheek, careful not to spit out the retort that’s perched on the tip of your tongue. It takes a great deal of effort to unclench the muscles in your jaw but you manage to school your features into an expression of polite confusion.
Seokjin frowns, dissatisfied with your lack of response. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that he’s currently thinking of new ways to provoke you.
When the silence stretches on and he’s yet to riposte, you allow yourself to relax again, believing that he’s given up on being an asshole.
To your chagrin, you’re sorely mistaken. The last of your self-restraint is finally put to the test as his next words do nothing to quell your irritation.
“Jongmin.” He repeats slowly, like you need it spelled out for you. “He follows you around everywhere like a lap dog. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so, you know, pathetic.”
“His name is Jimin,” you correct for the nth time.
Instantly, you reprimand yourself for playing into his games and granting him the attention he so craves. Fulfilling his twisted desire is the last thing you hope to achieve. Staying silent would be the sensible thing to do but your brain completely bypasses the memo. The moment your mouth opens it’s impossible to quash the urge to justify yourself.
Maybe it’s your pride coming into play. Maybe it’s Seokjin’s uncanny ability to get under anyone’s skin at will. Whatever the case may be, you stammer out, on the defensive, “And he’s not my 'boy toy'. We - it’s not - we’re dating.” But the word feels like a weight on your tongue. You swallow.
The statement earns you a scoff of incredulity. “Dating? Him?”
You finally set your phone down and aim a glare his way, abandoning all pretense at being indifferent because—Jesus. Is the idea of you dating that unfathomable? He’s never been this worked up over any of your other relationships. Granted, none of them have ever lasted this long but is it really any of his business who you choose to see in your free time?
“I don’t get what your problem is. What’s so wrong with me dating?”
“Have you seen who you’re dating?”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”
While this isn’t the first time your agent lets a judgmental comment slip from between his pearly white teeth, it’s usually not laced with spite. Seokjin is never outright hostile, preferring sweet words of manipulation and thinly-veiled insults to shows of aggression. The attempt to get a rise out of you does not go by unnoticed. His anger, this time, feels personal.
You wrack your brain, quickly sifting through your recent memories to try and figure out why he’s chosen to be such an ass today. You’re certain that you’ve filled out all the necessary paperwork required to proceed with today’s filming, and yes, after thinking it over, you know that you went to the obligatory medical checkup last week. So there really is no reason for him to bitch at you unless—
The proverbial light bulb flickers on and it all suddenly makes sense.
You’re willing to bet a hefty sum of money that the high-paying gig you turned down two weekends ago is to blame for his abnormal crotchety behavior.
Yes, that would explain it.
Due to Seokjin's well-known propensity to hold a grudge for longer than average, the odds that he’s still hung up over the lost deal are pretty high. And as much as his disappointment and frustration are understandable from a business standpoint, you don’t appreciate being used as a verbal punching bag for him to expel all those pent-up feelings.
Seokjin hums, a knowing smirk pulling the sides of his mouth upwards. Fleetingly, and not for the first time, you find it a shame that his cockiness tarnishes his otherwise handsome face. “I give it another couple of days until you get bored. How long has this gone on for? A month? How are you not yanking out your hair from the sheer boredom of dating...that."
A muscle in your jaw ticks.
“He’s not Voldemort, you coward. Would it honestly kill you to say his name?” Seokjin’s expression begs to differ. You cut him off before he can add fuel to the fire. “And I won’t get bored. Jimin’s - he’s a perfectly nice guy. We’ve been seeing each other just fine—not that it’s any of your concern.”
“Yes, he’s nice,” Seokjin concedes easily, brushing off any attempts at putting an end to the conversation. He grins, wide and smug, like he knows you can’t refute what he’ll say next. “Perfectly nice and boring. The kind of guy you’d bring back home if your parents were straight-laced folks that wanted to marry you off to a choir boy. Seriously, how the fuck did a guy like him end up in the porn industry? He belongs in a church or, I dunno, maybe some neighborhood book club - not behind a camera filming you getting flogged by a daddy dom.”
You sniff. “Just because he tucks his shirts in doesn’t—”
“It’s not just the shirts, honey.” He leans over to pat your hand in a gesture of consolation. Used to his antics, his attempt is easily blocked by a swat of your hand.
You muster the dirtiest look you’re capable of, the kind of look that sends men to early graves, but he simply smiles in response, completely unfazed.
Any person with the minimum amount of tact would know to politely change the subject. It’s unfortunate that your agent does not belong to that pool of individuals, choosing instead to be selectively blind to overt social cues.
He continues on, unperturbed, like he has a point to prove. “Believe it or not, I know you. Sometimes, for whatever reason, perhaps a lapse in judgement but who the fuck knows, you like to venture out of your comfort zone and experiment. Like with the chickenshit gingerbread spice concoctions they come out with at Starbucks to celebrate turkey season and Christmas or the cream cheese makis they make for the white crowd who want to eat sushi but don’t like anything other than white rice and seaweed. And, trust me, while I’m all for diversity and broadening your personal experiences, don’t you think there’s a reason why you always go back to your preferred choice of an iced latte with two sugars?”
“Did you just compare Jimin to a gingerbread latte?”
Okay, so admittedly you’ve made some questionable food and beverage choices in the past, but the comparison is a fucking reach.
“You’re absolutely right." Seokjin gives a firm nod of his head, his expression serious. "Now that you mention it, he’s definitely a vanilla soy. Bland and boring. Targeted towards the middle-aged soccer moms that think veganism is a trend, not a lifestyle. Wants to be a people-pleaser but misses the mark.”
“I didn’t know it was Share Your Unwanted Opinion Time,” you grind out from behind a strained smile. “If I had, I would have said something about your receding hairline earlier.”
It’s a low blow but the way Seokjin’s plump lips curl in displeasure makes the dig worth it. One of his hands automatically shoot up to flatten the bangs that are usually slicked back with copious amounts of gel.
Offended, he spits, “It’s not receding! There’s a difference between premature balding and a bleach job gone wrong.”
"I'm not sure people care to differentiate. Looks like a receding hairline to me." You shrug while picking at your nails. “You’re nearing that age, too, so.”
“You just try looking this good at 30. Fucking try.”
He waits for a reply but your interest has already waned. You scroll through your phone, bored once more.
Seokjin makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat at the clear dismissal. You swear you hear him grumble under his breath - something along the lines of never going blonde again - but can’t find it in you to care, not when he’s finally ceased his nagging.
"Filming in twenty!" someone shouts from outside the door.
"They’re running behind schedule," Seokjin notes after glancing down at his gold wristwatch. "How can they take more than an hour to fix the lighting? Tch. Bunch of fuckin’ amateurs."
He aims a glare in your direction as if their incompetence is somehow your fault.
You have half a mind to glower back but miraculously withhold your sentiments. Admittedly, he isn’t wrong - the team you’re working with today keeps committing blunders even rookies wouldn’t dare perpetrate - but you’d rather get your driving license revoked forever than to acknowledge that Seokjin’s right and inflate his already unnaturally huge ego.
Something heavy plops into your lap. When you look down, the glossy surface of a magazine reflects the harsh lights suspended over the vanity table back at you.
“I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice,” he says in response to your look of confusion.
“What’s this?”
You hold up the magazine expecting the worst. It’s heavy in your hands, the pages thicker than the gossip rags you’d find in a dentist’s waiting room.
“’s the newest issue. Came out this morning. I’d actually like it back once you’re done because I haven’t finished reading it and God knows how hard it was to get my—hey, you can stop flicking aimlessly, I saved you the trouble and bookmarked the page,” Seokjin explains a bit impatiently.
When you shoot him a glance, his attention is trained on your face, not the magazine. He barely blinks. Like a snake honing in on its prey. And that kind of intense focus - that can’t be good. After all, you’ve known Seokjin long enough to suspect that whatever trick he has up his sleeve will give him the advantage he needs to deliver the killing blow.
Gingerly, you flip through the pages like you’re afraid the magazine might self-destruct in your hands. Which would be a waste, in your opinion, since Exquis is a damn good magazine - perhaps less intellectual than Playboy, but definitely classier than Hustler. Its reputation speaks for itself. Known for hiring the best photographers and carefully combing through their models, it’s selective, only picking the cream of the cr—
Everything around you stills.
Your eyes narrow at the spread because there, on the page Seokjin’s taken great care to bookmark, a model poses provocatively on a lounge chaise near a crystal clear pool. It’s similar to a shoot you’ve done in the past but you can tell right away that the quality of this is above and beyond anything you’ve ever done. The lighting is better, heck even the barely-there-swimsuit looks like it costs ten times more than whatever you had been told to throw on at the time.
The vexation you feel only worsens once it finally registers who the model is. Her youthful and pretty face carries a permanent haughtiness that not even makeup or acting can entirely mask.
The pages crease in your hold as you flick through the rest of the spread dedicated to the up and coming talents. With every new page that has her plastered on its glossy surface you feel your stomach sink.
2...3...4...
“Five pages,” you curse under your breath. For a magazine this renowned, it’s...a lot. Commendable, even. Your nose crinkles. “Well, fuck. me. sideways.”
Seokjin gloats, reveling in your outrage. “Hmph. I told you, didn’t I? Passing up the opportunity to work with Kim Namjoon would come and bite you in the ass.”
“Aha! So you have been a little bitch because I refused to shoot with Namjoon.” You whirl around in your chair and use the magazine to jab him in the chest. He easily steps aside, avoiding your attempt at wrinkling his trademark Armani button-down shirt.
“It was the chance of a lifetime and you knew it.” He turns his nose up and sniffs.
“That’s what you said about filming with Min Yoongi last month.” You roll your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously if you’re gonna say the same thing every time a new guy shows up.”
“Shooting with Agust D did help you gain some mainstream popularity. You’ve gotten love calls for catalog printings and your name is now automatically on the invite sheet for every C-list event in town. Namjoon would have given you another needed boost.” Seokjin folds his arms, lecturing mode switched on. You struggle with the instinctive urge to tune him out. “Sure, he’s got a niche audience, but he’s famous in his field and it would have helped expand your fa—“
“Not to kink shame or anything because we don’t do that, but Namjoon is a freak. And don’t deny it, I’ve seen his videos.”
“He’s specialized in particular—“
“You were the one telling me not to film all sorts of shit right off the bat,” you cut in, refusing to back down from your stance. There’s no way you’ll let him sweet-talk you out of this one, not after the multiple videos of Namjoon you’d binged one weekend. “Stick to one story.”
“Well, we’re not exactly ‘right off the bat’ anymore, are we? We’ve passed that stage. Right now is a crucial time in your career so you’ve got to make it count. Filming rehashed videos of the same pizza delivery guy scenario gets boring and fast. As pretty as you are, you’re not offering anything new to the table, are you?”
Fuck him. He’s right and you know it. Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman.
Still. “I refuse to work with a guy whose porn alias is Cock Monster.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Well I said no,” you insist stubbornly.
“Well if you had said yes, maybe it would be your ass cheeks getting their own two page spread in Exquis instead,” jabs Seokjin, hitting you where it hurts.
Ugh. The reminder that Joy’s bested you yet again riles you up even more. That, coupled with the likelihood of your career ending imminently, makes you stop and think.
Your agent goes on to say, “Don’t you want the AVN for best newcomer? Where did that competitive edge go? At the rate this is going, Joy’s going to steal it from right under your nose.”
“Like fucking hell,” you hiss. The magazine bends under the strength of your grip. “That one’s mine.”
You absolutely refuse to lose out to her. Every fiber of your being rejects the idea of letting her one-up you again.
“Not if you don’t start branching out. The last time you did anything substantial or interesting was about a month ago. It’s already old news. People are going to forget you shot that sequence altogether if you don’t do anything that puts you back on the map.”
A pause. “…I really don’t want to film with someone who willingly named himself Cock Mons—”
“Fine.” Seokjin heaves a resigned sigh. “You don’t have to fuck the monster willy. Willy monster? Hm. Wouldn’t it make more sense to name himself Monster Cock and not Cock Monster? Wonder why he does th—”
You suppress a snort. “Please spare me while you can. It’s amazing, that talent for making everything sound a lot worse than it already it is.”
“Why, thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“You trying to insult someone who’s willing to find you someone else to work with? I can always ask Monster Meatstick if he’s up for—”
“No! No, that’s - not necessary.” You force out a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking its genuine. “Why would I ever insult you? You’re the best agent one could ask for.”
“That’s what I thought.” He takes your compliment, forced or not. When he smiles, smugness rolls off of him in waves. “One day you’ll realize you’re taking my talent for granted. I’ll find you another onscreen partner even though you don’t know what you’re missing out.”
“Thank you.”
“But!” He interjects and this time you don’t bother swallowing down your groan, already dreading the stipulations he has in store for you. “You have to promise to hold up your end of the bargain and try your best.”
Indignation colors your face. Your mouth falls open, retort at the ready. “When do I ever slack off on the job?! I’ve never given a half-assed blowjob in my life - and trust me, the temptation was there. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused when the guy can’t cum on command? I once had to get my jaw realigned.”
“I’m not saying you’re slacking off,” he backtracks, switching tactics. His expression is soon replaced by the business-like smile you’re used to seeing on the regular. Tone buttery and appeasing, he tries to convince you through flattery instead. “You work hard and do a good job… I wouldn’t have signed you on otherwise. The problem isn’t with the quality of your work but with - all the rest.”
“The rest?” you parrot back dumbly, trying and failing to comprehend.
Seokjin scowl returns, unable to keep his genuine emotions under wraps.
“D’you honestly think you’re at a point in your career where you can pick and choose your jobs like this? Ever since you started dating that - that thing - your workload has significantly decreased. And not because you lacked opportunities. You had them but you turned them all down.” Visibly getting worked up over the issue, his voice rises an octave, then two. “What should’ve been a good spring board, only brought you back to square one. I know I can’t force you to take jobs if you refuse to, but I can say that your potential is going to waste. I’ve never seen someone sabotage herself like this before and it’s driving me up the wall. While I get that you’re under the delusion that you’ve found true love or whatever Disney fantasy Jungmin has sold you, you can’t turn down projects over and over again without there being serious repercussions. You’re smart enough to know this. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”
Seokjin’s chest heaves as he takes in several big gulps of air, visibly out of breath after his monologue.
For him to explode like popcorn kennels in the microwave... You reckon he’d let his feelings pile up inside him for a while, silently stewing.
You’ve never seen your agent look so visibly distressed. He’s normally the picture-perfect image of composure so the sight that greets you is enough of a shock to render you speechless.
Deep down, Seokjin probably means well. There aren’t a lot of agents like him; you’re one of the lucky ones. Most girls are discarded by their agencies as quickly as used tissues once they get milked for all their worth.
Thankfully it’s never been that way with Seokjin. He claims that he’s in it for the long run. According to him the quick buck isn’t worth seeing the light die out in girl after girl. Perhaps that’s why he takes the task of ensuring your safety so seriously. How many times has he warned you to steer clear of this or that seedy director or ban you from attending drug-heavy parties? While his behavior can come off as overbearing on the worst days, at least he cares.
Sadly, it’s more than you can say for most.
In a way, he’s the only one in this business rooting for your success—if only because his paycheck depends on how well you perform. You like to pretend there’s more to it than that.
“I’m not - what’s Jimin got to do with any of this?” you splutter, still digesting the long tirade you’ve just been subjected to.
“Are you serious? That’s all you got from what I said?”
“Well, no, but I still fail to—”
“Do you think me a fool?” He crosses his arms tightly across his broad chest. “The only scenes you’re willing to shoot are when he’s on set. Are you a kid or something? Since when do you need supervision to shoot a sex scene?”
“N-no. It just worked out that way, okay?” In reply to his dubious expression, you force yourself to explain. “Okay, okay - I get it. Maybe I might’ve lessened my workload recently but it has nothing to do with Jimin, alright? My vagina needs rest from time to time. Just because it’s my job doesn’t mean I don’t need a break. I’m human too, not some blow-up doll.”
“You expect me to believe that he has nothing to do with it? You were perfectly fine before he entered the picture. And now that you’re all loved up you only pick—”
A knock, so timid you barely catch it, cuts off the rest of his sentence.
“Yeah? Come in, I’m decent!” you yell - not that you care whether someone sees you naked or not. The concept of modesty has long been lost on you. Some might call it shamelessness or vanity, but you take pride in how you look. And why wouldn’t you? Your body is your bread and butter. You spend hours in the gym every week so that your ass looks good no matter what camera angle.
“It’s me.”
The door opens a crack and the speaker tentatively sticks his mop of hair through the small opening. As soon as you recognize him, your heart leaps at the sight and you quickly tighten your robe together.
“Oh, speak of the devil,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.
You resist the urge to throttle him and plaster on your brightest smile instead.
“I wanted to see how you were doing. Sorry I took so long... I would’ve come earlier but they needed my help.” Jimin scratches a spot behind his ear, sheepish. “Someone tripped over the cables and smashed a camera lens so we had to find a replacement. The director threw a fit and wanted to call it quits so we’ve been trying to calm him down this entire time. He did - eventually, anyway, after he called his dealer on set.”
A disapproving frown tugs at his mouth corners and mars his otherwise perfect appearance.
You take a moment to swoon internally. You’ll never get tired of admiring your boyfriend. Unlike the majority of the on-set personnel, he doesn’t reek of weed or booze or stale cigarette smoke. His ironed clothes and immaculate appearance always make it easy to spot him amidst the hungover crew.
“That’s fine! I kept myself busy.”
Jimin returns your smile, his eyes creasing into beautiful half-moon crescents. You don’t know what kind of love-struck expression covers your face but next to you Seokjin makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a gag and a cough.
“Oh! Here, I brought snacks. I didn’t know what you liked so I just grabbed everything I could get my hands on.” He holds up a paper plate stacked with treats no doubt stolen from the catering service. “I know I kind of went overboard but I wanted to make sure you kept your sugar level up.”
“That’s sweet of you,” you coo, reaching to take the plate from him. He’s piled on the sweets so high that it’s a miracle nothing has toppled over yet. You aren’t especially hungry but take a bite out of a chocolate candy to show how much you appreciate the effort. Its gooey consistency melts on your tongue, the taste so sweet it sticks to your teeth.
“How adorable,” chimes in Seokjin, his hand grabbing a licorice stick from the mountain of candy before you can swat him away. “Thanks Jongmin.”
“Jimin,” he corrects good-naturedly, his smile not budging an inch. You think, privately, that’s what you like the most about him. Not many have the ability to block out Seokjin’s bullshit so effectively.
“Mmh,” your manager says around a mouthful of candy. “Seokjin. Pleasure.”
You elbow him while gritting your teeth. “Can you...give us a moment?”
Seokjin swallows down the treat and opens his mouth in protest. He has the audacity to look betrayed. “You’re kicking me out of our room so the two of you can get it on? Really?”
Jimin’s cheeks flush and you quickly cut in before your agent can make matters worse.
"I just want to talk without you breathing down my neck. Weren’t you going off earlier about how I didn’t need adult supervision anymore? Well?”
“Fine. Fine! But you owe me. Again.” He grabs his portable phone charger from the vanity table before making his exit. “And don’t forget what we talked about!”
What a fucking drama queen. You have no idea why he always insists on making a scene when you know for a fact that he would’ve left of his own volition in five minutes anyway. For reasons he has no trouble disclosing, he can’t stand Jimin’s presence.
“I won’t,” you grumble just so that you can get him out of your hair faster.
The door slams shut with more force than strictly necessary. Silence hangs in the air for a brief moment before Jimin turns his warm gaze towards you.
“What was that about?”
“Uh, nothing. You know how he is...” You play with the ends of your braided hair. “He can’t go very long without throwing a tantrum.’
“He seems very protective of you,” remarks Jimin, a thoughtful expression painting his angelic face. “I think that’s why he’s not that fond of me.”
“Nonsense,” you rebut immediately as you take his hands in yours. “Who could ever not like you?”
Jimin allows his lips to quirk into a small, self-deprecating smile that you promptly erase with a kiss. His lips feel pillow-soft against yours, and you let yoruself indulge in the feeling before pulling back.
You sigh, remembering the scene you’ve yet to film. “If only my co-star was you.”
He laughs at that. “Seokjin would probably throw a fit, huh?”
.
.
Jimin treats you to dinner that night.
He chooses the restaurant. It’s a small, quaint place, tucked into a hidden corner just minutes away from the bustling main street of the shopping district. It’s not the kind of place people stumble across by accident but judging by the occupied tables, business is doing fine by reputation alone.
The owner comes out to greet Jimin by name. They exchange warm greetings, the woman asking him how his brother’s been doing and whether he’ll stop by anytime soon.
“Ah - I’m not sure... You know how he is... I’ll let him know you said hi.”
“Tell him I’ll give him an extra serving of ribs. That was his favorite, right?”
When her eyes trail over Jimin’s shoulder and spot you, she grins so wide you’d think she won the lottery or something. “Park Jimin! You’ve gone and found a girlfriend! And so pretty, too. Ah, really...time sure flies by. I remember when you first started coming here - and now!”
You smile back, greeting her with a polite handshake. The owner is quick to usher you into a small booth in the back. She hands you the menus while patting Jimin on his shoulder. “I’ll get you drinks. It’s on the house.”
“You don’t have to do that!” protests Jimin, shaking his head. “Really. It’s not—”
“Nonsense.” She waves a hand at him. “You’ll get two more if you keep that up, Park Jimin.”
Once she knows she’s earned Jimin’s compliance, she leaves with a satisfied smile. You can tell by their genuine interactions that she’s close to Jimin. Family, perhaps? Either way, this isn’t a place Jimin tracked down on yelp. He flips through the menu with ease, like he’s done it hundreds of times before.
“Sorry about that,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “I used to come here all the time with my family when we all still lived here. They moved and live in a different town now so we haven’t had a meal together here in years, but. I still come here. The food is good, of course, but - I dunno. I have good memories here so I thought I’d share it with you. It sounds stupid now.”
He laughs quietly, cheeks flushed a pretty pink.
“I love it.” You can’t help but smile, cheeks hurting from the force of it. Invisible liquor runs through your bloodstream, a ball of warmth unfurling in your belly. “Thank you.”
A pause ensues. It’s one of those moments in which you’re unsure if you’ve said too much or not enough. Being here with Jimin means a lot. You’re not the most verbose person but you hope that Jimin can feel your sincerity.
Maybe your stare comes off as too intense because Jimin breaks the eye contact and clears his throat.
He fiddles with his earring and says, “The food is really good!”
Pink dots his cheeks as he attempts to change the subject. “I don’t know how long the place has been around for but the food is exactly the same. Apparently it’s the sauce they use? Auntie still won’t share the recipes with me and I’ve known her since I was a kid.”
He chatters on, gaining confidence when he notices you’re not put off or bored by his numerous anecdotes. As time passes by, he’s visibly more relaxed. His laugh is more natural, less restrained, like he’s using all the muscles in his face and not just the ones near his mouth.
It’s a stark difference from the first date, you think. Back then he had come off as quite shy, preferring to let you lead the conversation, only offering up tidbits from time to time. Now the conversation flows easily. Nothing feels forced or awkward and - it’s nice. The normalcy of it. Like a hot cup of tea before bed or the scent of the fabric softener your mother uses. It’s something you find comfort in, that you can see yourself coming back to and not growing tired of.
Seokjin can say what he wants - that Jimin’s too uninteresting, that you’re too mismatched of a couple - whatever.
Jimin likes you for you.
When you’re out on dates or when the two of you talk on the phone late into the evening, he rarely brings up your job. Instead, he asks you questions about your favorite TV shows, your dipping sauce preferences, the first album you purchased. These small details might seem inconsequential to others but to you, they’re a welcome breath of fresh air.
For all the talks of Jimin being too average and too normal, men like him are in reality surprisingly hard to come by.
Because what you haven’t failed to notice since you began your career as a porn star is that people love the idea of you. People who avidly watch you from their laptop screen in the comfort of their own home think that you’re some type of sex goddess - that you’re basically up for anything. In their minds, you’re a fun girl who loves sex, all kinds of sex, any kind of sex, and who doesn’t have any qualities or attributes other than making people cum until their limbs go numb.
Your feelings? Not really important. Feelings would make you human and being human would ruin their favorite fantasy.
That’s what takes you a while to learn - you don’t get paid to have sex, you get paid to sell dreams.
It doesn’t bother you at first. In a way, you think, it’s like acting. The porn star people jerk off to daily is a character you play, a mask you can take off at your leisure once the camera director yells ‘cut!’.
Very quickly, you learn people don’t share the same sentiment. To them, the line that distinguishes you from your job persona isn’t blurry - it simply doesn’t exist.
In the beginning, you’d stayed optimistic. Once people get to know you past the image they’ve built up in their heads, surely they’ll realize you’re not a sex-craved addict who only has dick on the brain, right? But with every new date you accept to go on, the reality of your situation only leaves room for disappointment and barely reigned in revulsion.
Even in non-romantic situations, people let you down. Old classmates, neighbors... It pisses you off that they assume you have no self-worth just because you’re a sex worker. Stevie from 308 down the hall once tried throwing crumpled bills at you, expecting you to crawl over to him for a fifty. The memory is enough to set your blood boiling. You can’t wait until you earn big enough bucks to move out of your shitty apartment into a nice high-rise penthouse, away and above all the scum of the Earth.
“You okay?” asks Jimin, noticing the crease that burrows your brow. “The food alright?”
You blink several times, belatedly realizing you had zoned out. Guilt and embarrassment well up within you.
“M’yeah,” you swallow down the spoonful of stew stuffed in your mouth. “Sorry.”
Jimin chews his bottom lip. Finally, he settles with, “Tell me if I’m boring you.”
“No, no! You’re not.” His evident doubt does nothing to alleviate the sudden nausea swarming your lower belly. “I’m serious, Jimin. I’m - Sorry if I gave off that impression. I just - I have a lot on my mind but you’re lovely. I’d tell you if you were - you know. Promise.”
“Would you? Sometimes I think you’re too nice.” It’s not delivered as an insult, but it doesn’t exactly sound like praise, either.
You force out a snort. “Heh. Wish you’d tell Seokjin that.”
“He’s not too cross with me, is he?” Jimin’s expression looks awkward, like he’s forcing his facial muscles to stay relaxed and mien nonchalant.
“Wh- oh, you mean because of earlier? He isn’t. That’s not him being angry. It’s not even you. It’s me. We just have - a slight difference in opinions, I suppose. If you can even call it that.”
“He doesn’t want you to date me,” concludes Jimin.
The frustrations you’d repressed earlier in the day come back. Why does Seokjin’s opinion matter? You huff, putting your spoon down.
“He’s not my dad. And even if he was, I’m grown. I can make my own decisions.” You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it... It’s not like it’s any of his business in the first place.”
“Still...” Jimin says, unsure. “He’s your agent. I wouldn’t want the relation between you to sour because of me.”
“Honestly, I’m convinced it’s not even you he has a problem with. We talked about it today and I think he’s getting antsy because, um, you know, I haven’t accepted any big offers lately. Like, I’m staying too much in my comfort zone or something. He says that in the long run that can be detrimental to my career.”
It’s a bit strange, discussing your work with Jimin. You both work in the same industry, Jimin as a second camera assistant and you as an adult entertainer, but outside of filming sets, you rarely acknowledge what the other person does for a living.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. He wants me to branch out and try new things.”
“What, you mean anal? Gangbangs?”
“Um, yeah. All that, probably...” You have to blink several times because of the shock of hearing Jimin say that so casually. “...Is that okay?”
“Huh?” Jimin in turn blinks at you, like your question doesn’t properly register. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m fine with it. You said it’ll be good for your career?”
“Apparently.”
“Then, yeah.” He shrugs like he isn’t bothered by the news at all. “Of course that’s okay.”
A part of you wants to push the issue, ask him why he’d be fine with his girlfriend filming intense sex scenes with random men, but that inner voice is snuffed out before the poisonous thought has time to take root.
Isn’t this what you always wanted? A boyfriend who is accepting and understanding of your profession?
You wash down your worries with a gulp or two of soju, determined not to let your own insecurities ruin the rest of your night.
.
.
Less than 24 hours after you’ve agreed to work on a worthwhile project of Seokjin’s choosing, a slew of texts blow up your phone.
Unsurprisingly, it’s your agent. A quick scroll through your phone reveals that your agent has left you with no less than 15 messages, 1 voicemail, and 3 e-mails.
It’s...a lot. You’ve grown to expect that kind of fanfare with him. Like any man who deals with legally binding contracts on a daily basis, Seokjin ensures that you keep your word. He can be extremely persuasive when he sets his mind to it. You’ve seen men and women alike succumb to the force of his magnetism. Back when your filmography had solely consisted of amateur sex tapes shot in bad lighting with low-grade filming equipment, Seokjin's charms alone had been sufficient to win over lukewarm casting directors and book you jobs.
SEOKJIN : hey!!!!!!!!
SEOKJIN : ???
SEOKJIN : wow. you’re leaving me on read.........the audacity.
SEOKJIN : i raised you on my back and this is how you repay me?
SEOKJIN : do you not respect your elders in your household?
SEOKJIN : i swear if you’re blowing me off for jimmy instead of answering your calls .........
SEOKJIN : or blowing jimmy. either one.
SEOKJIN : ok it’s been 10 min. i’m chill but not that chill.
SEOKJIN : can you please stop sucking dick and read your emails. it’s important.
YOU : ever heard of multitasking? god gave us two hands for a reason
SEOKJIN : oh. nasty.
SEOKJIN : way to ruin my lunch.
SEOKJIN : well. suck down that nut sauce asap
SEOKJIN : cos what i sent you needs your undivided attention
YOU : i’m nasty?? me????
YOU : you don’t hear me saying nUT SAUCE you freak
SEOKJIN : nutté sauce
SEOKJIN : there. fixed it.
YOU : ...that’s not even a thing
SEOKJIN : well it should be!
SEOKJIN : adding accents makes it instantly classier, don’t you think? nutté sauce. has a nice ring to it.
SEOKJIN : honestly. sounds like some fancy four star french starter now.
YOU : ???? it absolutely doesn’t but ok
SEOKJIN : imagine. during a scene you just yell out
SEOKJIN : “i’d like a serving of your nutté sauce to go”
YOU : dicks would shrivel up on the spot
SEOKJIN : what? i think it’s brilliant!
SEOKJIN : my talent is wasted as an agent. should’ve been a scriptwriter instead.
YOU : yes i’m sure the oscars are weeping over the missed opportunity
He takes your sarcasm at face value, feeding you more ridiculous variants of faux french cum lingo—that which you very wisely choose not to reply to. Instead of humoring him, you open the .pdf file he’s sent your way, ignoring the near-constant buzzing of your phone as he’s no doubt pestering you for an immediate answer.
Had it not been necessary for business, you’d have blocked his number ages ago. In fact, after that nut sauce comment you’re seriously reconsidering, business obligations be damned.
To his credit, the film project he suggests you work on doesn't sound half-bad despite its questionable title. Why anyone would choose to name it THE SPERMINATOR is beyond you.
As you read through the proposition, you’re surprised to find it’s tamer than the initial imaginary scenario you’d played out in your head. Expecting to read through a long list of unnameable kinks and dicks, the scene description is rather domestic all things considered.
Your shoulders sag in relief. You enjoy sex as much as the next person, but even you have limits you’re not willing or eager to cross. You’re a human being, first and foremost, and, contrary to popular belief, not competing in the sex olympics.
From what you’ve read so far, nothing in Seokjin’s offer seems too strenuous or perverse. The scene in question is centered around a young, newly married couple trying to conceive for the first time and the sex acts are described as “romantic insemination” - whatever the fuck that means. The only complication you can think of is that you’ve never played the part of a married couple before. None of your previous films specifically target couples or women. Is romance something you can sell accordingly?
You’re quick to shake the concern off once you remember that no one cares if your acting is shit or not. All you probably have to do is yell out ‘Daddy’ a few times mid-thrust and call it a day.
Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed in Seokjin for choosing such a safe, no-risk project - especially since he constantly advocates the risk-return trade off as the way to live by. But you’re not about to start complaining. You’d rather shoot this type of innocuous scenario than ridiculous, hentai-like scenes involving freakish get-ups and toys of monster proportions not realistically made to fit in a vagina.
The deal is perfect. Almost too perfect.
Subconsciously, you must realize something is wrong. Maybe Seokjin’s many lessons have finally rubbed off on you because there’s a persistent voice in your ear warning you that the film proposition is a trap, one that you’ve unfortunately walked straight into.
Your wariness increases when he refuses to send you the script upon request. Alarm bells ring off but by then it’s too late.
“The thing is... Director Ryu wants to try a new type of project," Seokjin says over the phone once you call him up for answers. "He thinks he’s going to pioneer a new genre of porn and revolutionize the industry - his words, not mine.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“How do I explain this without you getting the wrong idea..."
“Is this meant to reassure me?!” Dread drips from your tone. You should’ve suspected something was off from the very moment Seokjin suggested to shoot vanilla porn as your next big project. What a joke.
“Calm down, it's not as bad as - whatever you're thinking.” Too bad that his attempts to calm you down have the opposite effect. “He’s been wanting to try out a new improvisation format for his porn movies.”
“Come again?”
A beat of uncomfortable quiet passes. Reluctantly, Seokjin explains, “Which means - there isn’t an actual script to go off of. That’s why I couldn’t send it to you - because there is none. He wants it to be as realistic and natural as possible so he’s looking for actors who can go with their gut and create their own scenario instead of ones who need to be directed.”
Your resounding silence speaks for itself.
Sure, sometimes they provide scripts to act as guidelines, roughly giving the actor an idea of how the scene will unfold, but no one is expected to follow it word for word. Most porn films rely on improvisation rather than scripts because of how notoriously bad porn stars are at acting and memorizing more than a few lines at a time, and the introduction scene never lasts very long anyway for it to make a noticeable difference. Besides, after filming a handful of movies, you’ve noticed the dialogue is more or less all the same.
What bothers you is that this director wants you to carry out a movie that relies heavily on improvised dialogue. Convincingly.
“C’mon,” Seokjin tries when you refuse to deign him with an answer. “It’ll be fun. You like acting, right?”
“Seokjin...” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to keep your composure in check. “How do I break this down for you? I think you’re forgetting the most crucial detail here - I can’t act! The closest I've ever gotten to acting is faking an orgasm and I’m pretty certain that doesn’t count."
“And you do that very well!" says Seokjin encouragingly. "You'll be fine. Don’t stress over it. Your scenes with Min Yoongi last time were perfectly acceptable!”
“That’s the thing.” Stress makes your voice raise a half-step. “He did, like, 90% of the acting! Back then, all I had to do was moan and act like a slut! Which hardly counts - I was being myself. Whatever this - thing - you’re attempting to rope me into - I’m not qualified for it.”
“Sweetheart, we’re not aiming for the fucking Oscars here.” When he laughs, it’s practiced enough to sound sincere. “At the end of the day, it’s still porn. Nobody’s expecting you to be the next Meryl. And besides,” he presses on, clearly refusing to change his mind. “This is exactly what you need right now. Something fresh, something new. If you pull this off, you’ll gain exposure.”
“If I pull it off. Big if."
“I know it sounds like a gamble. I get it, I do. But remember what I always say? High risk—”
“Yes, yes. High reward. I get it.” Your frown deepens. “There’s no way to know this will work, though.”
“A good co-star already guarantees you half of the success. And luckily for you, the guy they signed on seems like the real deal. He’s hot, you’re hot. People will pay money to see you two fuck regardless of how good or bad the acting is.”
“Well. That’s reassuring,” you say, voice as flat as a board. “Although I suppose watching porn on mute is always an option if it comes to that.”
“It was a joke!” What worries you is that it doesn’t sound like it is. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve seen some of your co-star’s tapes. He’s got a mouth on him, if you know what I mean. Just let him lead and it’ll go swimmingly.”
“It’s one thing to follow someone’s lead during sex but you want me to - to improvise for God knows how long! That’s just asking for a disaster to happen.”
“You said you were up for a challenge!” Seokjin throws your words back at you, his tone accusing.
“And you said this would be beneficial for my career! How is making a fool out of myself going to help me any? I don’t want to be remembered as the girl who can’t act to save her life.” You want to cry in frustration. If you had wanted to act you would’ve chosen that as your major in college. “I don’t - I can’t do this. I’m not - this isn’t what I signed up for! How do you expect me to convince viewers what they’re watching is real...”
“Just—” Exasperated, he takes a deep breath. Exhales. “Trust me. When have I ever been wrong about film projects.”
Is putting your career at risk really worth it? You’re not sure anymore.
On the bright side, it’ll finally get Seokjin off your back, you reason, trying to remain positive. That in itself is worth celebrating, right?
Fine. You’ll agree to it out of pettiness. Once Seokjin realizes what a terrible idea this entire ordeal is, you won’t hesitate to rub it back in his face. He’ll never hear the end of it.
"Who am I working with, anyway?”
"Ah, hm, well." Hesitation creeps up his voice for the first time, putting you instantly on edge. "...You won't know him. He's new to the scene - got started a month or two ago, I forget."
"Great. Not only am I being used as a lab rat for this director to experiment on but you're also pairing me with a fucking rookie. Jesus.”
"He’s not half bad! He’s not bad at all, actually. I wouldn't be insisting if I didn't trust him not to blow his load early."
"Aren’t I lucky,” you deadpan. “So I don't have to worry about him busting a nut before the director gives the signal?"
“All you’ll have to do is act like a married couple with baby fever,” he talks over you, ignoring your overflowing sarcasm. “And how hard can that be? You’ve been loved up with Jumin for a month now - that’s plenty enough practice if you ask me. I know you’ll be able to sell that romantic shit to the public without too much trouble.”
“It’s Jimin,” you correct from force of habit.
You’re promptly ignored — not that you expected anything less from him.
"Just give it a thought? And get back to me when you make up your mind. The sooner the better. The offer won't stay on the table forever." Even over the line, you can picture Seokjin raising his eyebrows at you, expectant. “If you’re serious about this job, you know what you have to do.”
You both know that you’ll accept the offer. Seokjin’s got you all figured out. As much as you don’t like being pushed around, the need to prove yourself is your main driving factor. The acquaintances who sneer at you, the family members who’ve shun you, the peers who expect you to burn out after the five month mark—you’d rather roll over and die than prove their misconceptions right.
It’s a matter of pride when you sniff and reply, “I’ll think about it.”
But the decision is already made before the call ends.
.
.
SCENE 02 - THE SPERMINATOR. TAKE 02. ROLL B.
.
Eight days later you find yourself squeezed into a brazenly short dress that zips in the front, more fit for a night out in a club than a dinner at home. It’s so ridiculously tight, you feel like a prey being swallowed down by a snake. There’s no room to breathe. You can’t wait for the scene to start, if only so you can dispose of the piece of fabric and never wear it again.
Unfortunately, your outfit gets worse because thrown over the clubbing attire is a frilly apron with small hearts embroidered along the hem. The mismatch is jarring. You’re not sure what look the stylist is going for but the end result is very...peculiar.
You comfort yourself with the knowledge that it could always be worse.
A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone confirms that you’re running on time. Good. After your last gig, the last thing you want is to spend hours waiting for the personnel to set up the cameras and sound equipment correctly.
Thankfully, today’s team works like a well-oiled machine. All that’s left are the last-minute preparations before the shoot begins.
Your false eyelashes are still drying when Seokjin elbows you sharply in the ribs. You crack open an eye to glare at him. “Ouch - ah, seriously? What is it now?”
“That’s him, that’s him!” Seokjin whispers under his breath, his gaze glued to a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. “Wooow. Aren’t you a lucky bitch? I’d gargle his nutté sauce for breakfast, if you get what I mean. He looks way better in person, damn.”
“Firstly - please never say that out loud again.” You fake a gag. “How do I buy myself a new set of ears?”
Seokjin ignores your dramatics. He shoots you a look. “You let that last guy draw a starfish on your face with his crème de la nut but did you hear me go sick?”
“That’s not the same and you know it!” Your jaw drops in indignation. “And can you stop trying to make nut cream a thing for the love of—”
“What’s this about nut cream?”
You whip your head around, mortification already etched onto your features. Your mouth opens, defense at the ready, only for your throat to clamp up.
“Oh.�� You blink up in surprise because - well, Seokjin’s earlier assessment isn’t embellished. The guy is fit as fuck.
You’d seen photos in passing, had even googled his name out of curiosity, but the two-dimensional version of him pales to his real life physique. There’s a sharpness to his features that the camera fails to pick up on, a vibrancy that gets lost in the medium.
“Hey. I’m Hoseok.” His grip is firm, assertive, and your eyes naturally wander over his form. The loose muscle tee he’s thrown on puts his toned arms on display and makes it easier to admire the seemingly endless expanse of sun-kissed skin. He’s neither too thick nor too spindly, his muscles lean and firm instead of bulging. Strong but not intimidating. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Likewise.” You swallow, mouth dry.
You expect him to leave it at that like most of your past co-stars usually do. Or worse - for him to abandon all pretenses and cross lines that aren’t meant to be crossed. As someone who has experienced it all - from standoffish to creepy and vile - nothing surprises you anymore.
But unlike your, admittedly low, expectations, his gaze is warm and friendly. He speaks smoothly, leaving no time for an awkward silence to instill itself.
“Yeah, I know who you are! I saw a video or two of yours before - you were featured on the agency’s main page last month, right? Fuckin’ genius, by the way. Best stuff I’ve seen in a long ass time.” An easy grin sits on his face, nothing about it fake or contrived. “I hope we get along today. I haven’t done much work myself - yet anyway - but I hope this can be a good experience for the both of us.”
“You’ll be in good hands,” Seokjin assures, patting your shoulder like a proud parent. “_____ here is the best talent I’ve signed on.”
“That I can believe,” Hoseok chimes, his smile never waning. “I’ve heard good stuff about you. I won’t lie - it reassured me a fuck ton when I heard I’d be working with you. The stuff we’re doing is, well, it’s a bit of a gamble at this point, but I’m sure it’ll go well because I’ll be working with you.”
For a brief, embarrassing moment, you’re robbed of words, unable to respond to his flattery. From experience, you know to be wary of guys like him. Whenever someone lays it on thick they always have an ulterior motive. But what could possibly be his?
“Seokjin’s saying that because I’m the only one who can stand his nagging,” you finally say, your shoulders stiff. Maybe it’s because you’ve just met, but it’s hard to figure him out and it doesn’t help that you’re naturally wary of strangers.
“Oh hush. You love me.” Sensing how guarded you’ve become, Seokjin mercifully offers you an out. “It was nice meeting you, Hoseok. Wish we could stay and chat but she has to get ready to film the pre-interview portion.”
“Oh yeah, that’s cool. Catch you later.”
You offer a quick smile he returns tenfold, its brightness momentarily dazzling you.
Slightly dazed from the intensity of it, you stagger behind Seokjin, sun spots dotting your vision. Your surroundings blur together as your mind tries to recover from the interaction.
“Sooooooooo?” Seokjin sing-songs once you’ve walked far enough to be out of earshot. His brows are raised knowingly, an infuriating type of smugness clinging to his features. “What did I tell you! He’s hot enough to single-highhandedly melt a glacier, huh?”
You scoff, not willing to admit anything. “He’s okay.”
“Oh c’mon. He’s baby daddy material for sure. Which works out well for you since he’s gonna pump one into you later.”
For once the grimace that crosses your face isn’t exaggerated. “Please. Stop. Talking. I’m this close to heaving out my lunch.”
You’re not even joking with that one. Attractive as Hoseok may be, any talk of baby-making is enough to dissipate any smidgens of lust.
The reminder of what the upcoming scene entails and the expectations people carry crash down on you like a pile of bricks. Although you’ve done your best to ignore the fact you’ll be acting today, the meeting with Hoseok yanks you harshly back to reality.
You’re going to act. As a married couple. Trying to conceive a baby.
Three things that have never, ever been on your bucket list are now about to be crossed out in the span of the same afternoon. To that you can only say - what the fuck is my life.
Like a mounting wave before the inevitable crash, panic crests within you. You feel it gradually build and build, flooding your lungs and every crevice of your body with overwhelming anxiety.
Seokjin sighs. “How are you going to make it through today? The whole point of the sex scene is to get you pregnant. Or fake pregnant. You know what I mean.”
“Um...” You try to laugh but it comes out shaky. Seokjin shoots you a concerned look. “I’ll be fine! Really! I can do it. It’s just acting like you said, right? It’s not like he’s actually gonna knock me up in real life. So. Totally fine. It’s fine. Perfect.”
Seokjin’s concern grows. His eyebrows pinch together and his expression turns serious. He asks with no trace of mockery, “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay!” you reply. It’s too rushed of an answer to convince him. Your palms feel clammy and you wipe them off your damned apron. “Just. Nervous. Y’know.”
His steps slow to a halt and he places a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder. The weight, familiar and comforting, grounds you to reality. “Hey. What’s there to be nervous about? You got this.”
“Yeah.” You nod. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll trick yourself into believing it. “I’ve got this.”
“Look. Let me be honest for a second. I’ve been an agent for eight years now and I’ve seen a lot of talents come and go. No pun intended.” You smile back at him weakly. “You’ve got something...extra a lot of them lacked. I knew the moment I saw you on film you’d go far. The energy you bring onscreen is insane. I know today might seem new and strange - but so was your first ever professionally shot film, right? And you got through that fine. You’ll do great. I know it. And, not to toot my own horn, but I’m always right.”
That earns him a laugh. The nerves are still there but thanks to his pep talk it’s easier to breathe.
Despite being a big pain in the ass, Seokjin is exemplary at his job. Without him, you’re acutely aware you wouldn’t have gotten half as far as you have. Having him by your side is a reassurance in itself.
Someone calls your name, pulling you from your thoughts. When you turn around, you’re face to face with the round, bespectacled face of Director Ryu. You reckon he’s in his early forties but he acts younger than his age. It’s your first time working with him but so far he’s been nice enough, if a little full of himself. Not that you’re unaccustomed with working alongside conceited colleagues.
“Oh good, you’re back. You can get seated for the interview bit.” He points over to a chair placed in front of a pale yellow wall. From close up, you can see a paint job is in order, the old coat chipping off in several places. “Alright, this won’t last long - just need you to answer some questions on tape and we’ll be good to go.”
“Sure thing.” You nod and follow his directions, sitting still while the hair and make-up artist steps up to give your lips a final touch-up.
Strictly speaking, the before and after interviews aren’t a necessity. In your experience, directors mostly film the short question-and-answer sequence when you’re set to film hardcore sex scenes as a way to show viewers everything is consensual and that you thoroughly enjoyed the experience despite whatever might have transpired on screen.
You reckon the director wants to film you today to document the process behind his “groundbreaking film project”. Cue roll of eyes.
Somebody needs to tell him he isn’t inventing anything, you think while watching him fiddle with the camera until he’s completely satisfied with the angle. All he’s done so far is add unnecessary pressure on you. You hope Hoseok is faring better because the amount of performance anxiety you’re experiencing is an instant boner killer.
“You nervous?” the director asks once he’s done adjusting the camera lens.
While by some standards you’re still considered a newbie in the industry, you’ve done this enough times to fall into a routine. Wake-up, breakfast, get ready, arrive before call time, fill out all the paperwork and get ready to shoot your solo stills. It’s familiar enough that you’ve long stopped getting pre-performance jitters.
Today’s rush of anxiety is as surprising as it is unwelcome. They don’t want to hear that particular truth though, so you keep your reply sweet and bubbly.
“Nah,” you grin, wide and easy. “I’m super excited to film today!”
“Oh yeah? Is it perhaps because of your co-star?”
Your smile freezes for a second. Somewhere over the director’s shoulder you can see Seokjin nodding enthusiastically while giving you the double thumbs up. “Hoseok? He’s hot, sure.”
“Ooh. Already on a first name basis?”
“Hm?” you let out a noise of polite confusion, only belatedly realizing that his viewers know him better as his porn alias, J-Hope. But there’s no way in hell you’re going to yell that out loud while he’s fucking an orgasm out of you. Not only does it sound ridiculous but it’ll shatter whatever carefully crafted illusion you manage to build. “Um, yes. We’re getting to know each other. He’s very friendly.”
“I’m sure he is.” And there’s an implication there that doesn’t sit too well with you but thankfully Director Ryu chooses to move on and put that particular subject to rest.
“You ever shoot an insemination scene before?”
“Not yet.” You make sure to keep the smile on your face even if your cheeks are beginning to hurt. “I can’t wait to get to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had but never tried out for myself. I’m excited to film a first on camera!”
The director has yet to call you out for your bullshit so you slowly start to relax. Acting is a bit like lying, isn’t it? Maybe you can get through today after all.
You breeze through the rest of the questions, forcing out practiced laughs here and there all whilst keeping your voice syrupy sweet. It’s quick work, especially when you know what to expect. Before you know it, it’s already time to film the pièce de résistance. Everyone that’s allowed on set during filming filters into the kitchen, conversations between crew members dying down as they use their last recreational moments to check their phones.
The director’s filming style exempts you from shooting the customary pre-shoot sex stills which are essentially promotional pictures of you and and your partner in every sex position that you’ll be filming for real later on. You’re thankful for that, at least. Even with all of your on-camera experience, staying perfectly silent and still with someone’s dick inside you is no easy feat. It’s worse when you have to keep eye contact with your co-star and fake sexual gratification because the shot calls for it.
Hoseok waves at you from the other side of the room, the hair and makeup artist dusting some powder across the slope of his nose.
How can he look so relaxed?! You’re barely holding your lunch down. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re able to now tat the butterflies are back in full force, making a mess of your stomach.
You feel queasy but try not to make it too obvious even as Seokjin comes around to check up on you. The last thing you want to do is make a scene, especially when your onscreen counterpart's demeanor is making you look amateurish in comparison.
Maybe Hoseok is a better actor than you’re able to give most porn stars credit for because try as you might, you fail to detect any nervous undercurrent in his tone. For someone who is supposedly starring in his first major project, he doesn’t seem all too bothered about how it might play out.
How does he do it?! In all honesty, if Seokjin hadn’t informed you of his rookie status, you would be none the wiser.
There’s an ease with which he carries himself, a fluidity in his movements that belies no anxiety or awkwardness. Even from this distance you can tell that there’s never a hint of hesitation in his movements or speech; he doesn’t seem self-conscious in the least. He talks and moves with the assurance of someone who has been in the industry for months, not weeks.
In that moment you envy him. You’re so nervous about the upcoming scene that it’s hard to feign an air of professional detachment.
His boisterous laugh is loud enough to carry across the room and interrupt your line of thought. When you look over at him again, you find him folded in half, hands clutching his sides, and wearing a grin so bright it eclipses the entirety of his face.
“He seems nice.”
You jump, startled by Jimin’s sudden appearance. You hadn’t even heard him draw near. With a sheepish expression, you turn to look up at him only to find him already staring off into the distance. There’s a strange look painting his face, and a small crease in his brow that usually isn’t present. When you follow his line of sight, you’re met with the image of Hoseok talking animatedly to the the small crowd that’s flocked around him.
“Yeah.” You aren’t sure what else to say. Although there’s no sarcasm attached to his words, you can’t help but find Jimin unnaturally tense.
Which makes sense, you concede guiltily. A mere stranger is minutes away from dicking down his girlfriend. You’re not sure how you’d feel if you were to stand in his shoes.
You breathe in deep, silently willing away the knot of distress in your belly. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. It’s just a job. A profession that Jimin has always been fully aware of, even before you’d begun dating.
Even as you remind yourself of the facts, it does little to dispel the lingering feelings of doubt and guilt.
“Hey.” Jimin frowns at you in concern. “You alright?”
“Yep!” you say then immediately sigh, knowing that lying to your boyfriend is pointless. “I’m just a bit nervous.”
“Nervous?” Jimin’s worry grows, the crease in his brow deepening. “What about?”
“Just—” You gesture around with your hands. “All of this.”
“Oh.” He looks genuinely surprised. “But you don’t usually get nervous... Is it the impregnation thing you’ll have to do? I know you’ve said you’re not a big fan of that. Or... Is it something else?”
“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. It’s a bit of everything yet at the same time nothing you can clearly pinpoint and put a finger on. In all logic, you know that you’re feeling disproportionately stressed out but you can’t stop yourself from feeling how you feel. “It’s not that I don’t want to film. I just - I’m worried I won’t do well.”
Jimin takes your hand between his, running a thumb in soothing circles across the surface of your skin. He repeats the motion several times until your heartbeat is completely synced to his touch.
“You’ll do great. You always do.” The lines of his mouth bend into a smile. “I’ll be on the sidelines cheering you on.”
“My very own cheerleader.” You allow yourself to relax and and smile back fondly.
As much as you worry about Jimin being upset with you filming sex scenes with other actors, he’s never been anything less than the supporting boyfriend you’ve always dreamed of. Seokjin calls Jimin’s constant presence on set maddening, but you’re thankful that your boyfriend sticks by your side while others might flee or shame you.
Suddenly, you’re overcome with emotion. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe today you’re more hormonal than usual, but your eyes threaten to well up as you grip his palm tightly in your own. “Jimin, I—”
“Okay, lovebirds!” Seokjin claps his hands once, effectively ruining your moment. “Hand-holding time is over. We’re moving onto the more R-rated stuff.”
“Seokjin!” you hiss, upset over his horrible timing.
“It’s fine.” Jimin shakes his head. “He’s right, shoot’s about to start anytime soon. I need to get ready, too.”
“Right.”
Reluctantly, you let go of Jimin’s hand.
“Don’t pout.” He laughs and presses a quick, chaste kiss to your mouth. “I’ll wait for you after filming and we can go grab dinner. Italian sound fine?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” You bob your head eagerly. “I’m literally dying for carbs. Italian sounds more than perfect.”
“Good.”
You can’t resist sneaking in one last peck before Jimin retreats behind the cameras and you’re pulled to stand in front of a granite kitchen tabletop. Director Ryu is waiting for you, Hoseok already by his side.
From close-up, your co-star looks even more striking. The make-up artist’s work highlights his features without going overboard. The lines of his face are sharp, like every single one has been meticulously drawn. What usually would give someone a hostile and unapproachable impression is balanced out by the liveliness that lights up his eyes and his wide smile that looks almost too big for his face.
“It’ll start in the kitchen and then we’ll work out way to the bedroom.” Director Ryu points down the hallway. “I was thinking of keeping it all in the bedroom but nothing screams domesticity more than kitchen scenes, right?”
“Uh-huh.” You give a polite nod. Next to you, Hoseok coughs into his fist.
“Depending on how this goes we might have to take several takes - just keep that in mind.”
That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Sex scenes are never filmed in one take. There’s always one thing or another - a smoke break, a flaccid dick, a lighting fixture that needs to be changed. A 45 minute porn movie is the result of the editing team that painstakingly goes through, cuts and assembles hours of footage.
“Remember,” Director Ryu instructs, one hand cocked on his hips. “You’re still stuck in that honeymoon phase. All the two of you want to do is fuck like horny bunnies but your husband’s been away all day. Both of you have been waiting for this reunion for hours and hours. I want to feel that level of tension, got it?”
Hoseok nods like a dutiful student, his expression comically serious. You’d laugh if it wasn’t so inappropriate.
“Yep. Ok. Got it.”
You just want the director to stop talking so that you can get this over with quickly. The monologue is just delaying the inevitable.
Director Ryu spends extra minutes setting up the scene, emphasizing how in love and passionate the two of you should behave, describing how long you’ve been wanting to try for a baby, going into explicit detail about what the sex scenes should convey to the viewers. He just goes on and on and on with no end it sight.
At this point even Hoseok is growing restless. His feet refuse to stay still and his eyes dart around the room as if his attention is drawn elsewhere. It’s Hoseok’s constant fidgeting that draws Director Ryu out of his monologue. He finally senses that there’s a unanimous decision to start filming and retires behind the camera to settle himself in his appointed chair.
Hoseok shares a long look with you. “Is he always like that?”
“God, I hope not.” You lower your voice to whisper, “Seokjin - my agent - he says apparently Director Ryu wanted to make a career off of documentaries once he graduated from film school but quickly switched genres once he saw how little filming the mating habits of koalas was earning him.”
“Ah,” Hoseok nods conspiratorially before his features shift into something more serious. “Hey. Before we start, is there anything you’re not comfortable with? I know this scene is supposed to lean towards vanilla but you never know... I’d rather make sure. Just in case.”
You blink, taken aback. Hard limits aren’t really discussed outside of hardcore scenes. Sure, everyone is given a safeword before shoots begin but even screaming out “STOP!” or “Can we take a break from filming?” is enough to put the filmed scene on hold.
“Ah... No. I’m okay. But thanks for asking.” A moment passes and you add, “Is there - are there any words or kinks that bother you?”
Hoseok shakes his head. “Not for this one. Just - if there’s anything you’d rather me not say or do, don’t hesitate.”
You nod in reply, not sure of what else to say. Unfortunately your past experiences with men have made you suspicious of any form of flattery or kindness.
Soon, though, you relax. What reason is there for Hoseok to deceive you? Maybe he still has that rookie mindset. You can relate to the eagerness and the desire to do well you’d had in your early days of filming.
“Alright. Good luck, Hoseok.”
His smile is so bright that it erases your previous doubts. Surely someone with ill-intentions wouldn’t be able to smile like that, right? You return a tentative smile of your own. Something akin to understanding seems to pass between you. Although you don’t know Hoseok and he doesn’t know you, you trust him enough for this scene.
The moment is broken when Director Ryu directs Hoseok to wait outside the camera’s line of vision and you’re left alone in front of the kitchen stove.
Any moment now, you think. A telltale silence falls over the staff members as they all anticipate the director’s signal for the scene to start.
The first few seconds are always tricky. You’re no actress. There’s no switch inside of you that flips on and off as soon as the director commands “ACTION!” and “CUT!”. The world around you doesn’t fade out, your ‘porn star persona’ doesn’t claw its way out from within you and lunge for the nearest available dick. Sometimes, if you’re not attracted to your onscreen partner, you find your mind drifting off, making an inventory of your fridge and wondering what you’ll be able to cook up for dinner with two eggs and leftover rice.
When Director Ryu shouts “ACTION!” and slams down the plate, you freeze up. Usually you have an idea of what to say or do, but the words and actions won’t come to you this time.
Someone behind the cameras lets out a light cough. Oh right, you blink down at the simmering pot of water in front of you. The cameras are recording you making an utter fool out of yourself.
The spike of humiliation forces you into action. You’re more professional than this, damn it. You give the water a tentative stir, movements wooden and stiff. It’s hard to concentrate. All you can do is watch as the water simmers to a boil, the sound of bubbling water like a roaring current in your ears.
A door creaks open, signalling your onscreen husband’s return home.
To your horror, you find that you’re unable to move, as if your limbs had forgotten their primary function.
Before the scene had started, you had envisioned yourself throwing yourself into the arms of your loving husband and welcoming him home with a shower of kisses and words of affection. You had internally rehearsed it, had even thought of what you could say to him between pecks, but the reality is far removed from what you had practiced.
“Darling?” Hoseok’s voice is soft but loud enough for you to hear him over the angry sounds of boiling water. The vowels he uses are rounded, different from the bright pep in his tone from earlier.
You want to respond but your tongue feels like lead, too heavy in your mouth to articulate and form the proper reply. What are you supposed to call him, anyway? Honey? Hoseok? A nickname derived from his name? What do newlywed spouses call each other? Why couldn’t you give this more thought before the cameras began rolling?
Panic balloons inside you, threatening to burst. For a terrifying and mortifying second, you think that you’ve gone and ruined everything. The muscles in your shoulders bunch up and you half-expect the director to shout ‘CUT!’, give you a public scolding for missing your cue and berate you for your overall ineptitude.
Hoseok’s arms wrap around your middle before you have time to agonize any further. Just as you suspected, his arms are strong, the lean muscles flexing as he readjusts his hold around your waist. What you don’t expect, however, is the unadulterated warmth he radiates. His body burns hot; even through the layers of clothing separating the two of you, his warmth seeps through. But it’s strangely comfortable, not unlike basking in the afternoon sun during the last days of summer. You let yourself melt into his embrace.
“You’re not even going to say hi?”
With your back turned to him, you can’t be sure, but you imagine the pout playing at his lips. He tucks his chin in the crook of your shoulder. If he feels any awkwardness, he doesn’t let it show.
Miraculously, your mouth seems to be in working order again. It takes you a few seconds too long to find the appropriate answer, but it finally comes before the director can cut in to make any remarks.
“If I turn around right now, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you,” you explain. “And - I don’t want to ruin our dinner.”
Just to keep up the pretense, you add a handful of spaghetti into the pot of water.
Hoseok lets out a hum from behind you. He’s standing close enough for you to feel the vibrations low in his throat.
“I hate it,” he says after a stretch of silence.
You pout. “What? My cooking? What’s wrong with it?”
“No, silly. I hate -” he sighs, buries his face in your neck before looking back up so the camera can capture his expression. “I hate not being with you. I missed this.”
He hugs you from behind before kissing your neck. It starts off innocuous - his lips pressing short, chaste kisses down the column of your throat. Quickly, however, his mouth lingers on your skin.
“Ah - don’t. I’m cooking!” you shriek when his teeth scrape over a sensitive spot under your jaw. Your protests are half-hearted and go by unacknowledged. The pot of pasta could overflow right now and no one would care, least of all you.
Hoseok noses your neck while he tightening his grip around your waist, the movement bringing his hips flush against your lower back. You give the pot in front of you a very unenthusiastic stir, attention focused instead on the way his lips tenderly skim the surface of your skin, testing and teasing. The sensation feels nice - and keeps your mind off of the several cameras directed your way.
“But I went all day missing my princess,” he sighs, open mouthed against your neck. “Spent all day thinking about you.”
“Y-you did?”
“Mhm.” He gives your exposed shoulder a peck. Then another. “Thought about your cute little laugh.”
His line catches you off guard. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out.
Porn is often crude and to the point. You’re used to men complimenting your body parts or praising your skills in bed. You’d never minded, either. But Hoseok’s choice of words make you eager in a different way.
“What else?”
“Well, your cooking, for sure. Without you I’d be eating out of ramyeon packets for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
You let out a snort.
“That’s true. Your cooking is so horrible it’s offensive.”
“Hey now. Don’t be mean.” He pokes your cheek before pinching your chin to turn your head towards him. “I can cook a decent omelet.”
Hoseok’s a good few inches taller than you so you have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes. The slight discomfort barely registers. You’re too transfixed by the way he stares at you. It’s hard to place the expression because you’ve never seen it on a fellow actor before. Normally, the men you work with stare you down with hungry and lustful intent, but there’s none of that in Hoseok’s gaze.
The expression on his face cannot be described as innocent, either. He licks his lips, drawing your attention to the pretty lines of his mouth delicately curved into a smile.
“I missed the way you feel in my arms.” His voice sounds deeper, this time. “I missed holding you close to me. Kissing you. Reminding you how much I love you. I missed the look in your eyes when - “
“When?”
He smirks. “You sure you want to hear it? What if you can’t keep your hands off of me after? I don’t want to be held responsible for soggy pasta.”
“Hoseok,” you whine, one of your hands reaching down to slap at the hold around your stomach.
He tightens his hold around you and your breath hitches, suddenly all too aware of how firm his body feels behind you. The smirk on his face widens as he leans forward to confess his next words.
“I was thinking about how I miss the look on your face whenever I make your pussy sloppy with my cum.”
“Hoseok!”
One moment he’s crooning sweet words of affection, the next he’s spitting out filth. The quick back-and-forth gives you whiplash but you can’t say you dislike it. Unlike the tired and overused clichéd porn scenarios you’ve filmed in the past, Hoseok’s unpredictable behavior has the advantage of keeping you on your toes.
“You missed it too, hm?” He kisses your neck, lips soft and warm. “Kept thinking about how pretty you sound. So, so pretty. Especially when I give you what you want.”
“How would you know what I want?” You turn your head forwards so you can pretend to check up on the cooking pasta. “You were away all day.”
Hoseok’s eyes flash dangerously.
“How would I know?” he parrots back, his tone sweet and mocking. Something about it sends tingles down your spine and has you standing up straighter. “I always know what my pretty wife wants. I know because your body can’t lie to me.”
His hands wander, one of them inching up the material of your frilly apron to reach between your breasts. The movement is slow enough for a camera to zoom in and follow its trail. Hoseok rests his hand on your left breast and gives it a squeeze.
“See?” He repeats the action. “Your heart’s racing like crazy.”
You swallow audibly, finding it hard to come up with a witty riposte.
He continues with a chuckle, “You can’t deny it, can you? Your body’s too honest for your own good. It’s okay. You don’t have to say you missed me. I know.”
His self-assured way of talking makes it easier for you to react. This - the cockiness, the playfulness - you’re familiar with.
You roll your eyes and continue to give the pot in front of you a few additional stirs only for your breath to hitch when he starts to grind his hips against your lower back in time with your stirs.
Fuck is your only coherent thought. He rolls his hips so well it’s impossible not to imagine them doing something else. Your bottom lip grows numb from how hard you bite it.
“Of course I missed you.” You keep your tone as light as possible, determined not to show that his words and actions affect you.
Hoseok’s eyes narrow. He removes his hands from around you but keeps his front pressed against your back. He smiles again, dimples poking through.
“You don’t sound convinced... That’s fine.” It sounds like the beginning of a challenge and you soon learn why.
His nimble fingers play with the knot of your apron and you tense, expecting him to make quick work of your clothes and dive straight into dessert, so to speak. Once again, he surprises you by leaving the apron alone, hands falling to his sides.
His knees hit the floor, the noise startling you. Before you have the chance to truly react, he’s quick to pull your hips backwards until your back is arched. The sudden change in position forces you to adjust your stance so as to keep your balance.
“Hoseok?” you start to question but he cuts you off with a tut and light smack to your ass.
“You just keep your eye on dinner like you were doing before.” His fingers play with the hem of your short dress, stretching the fabric until it bunches up around your hips and leaves your lacy thong on display. “You can do that, right?”
Flustered by the position he’s maneuvered you into, with your hips thrust back obscenely, legs splayed wide and pussy on show, you grip the wooden spoon in your hand with more force than necessary. “It’s just pasta. I can manage.”
Maybe you sound less indifferent than intended because Hoseok seems more amused than offended by your feinted nonchalance. He barks out a laugh, his hands spreading the meat of your cheeks aside to get a better view of your lace-covered bits.
Privately, you wish you could witness his reaction. If there’s anything that turns you on, it’s knowing how much someone else wants you. If feels good to know that you’re wanted and desired. Even if fucking is part of your job description, the act needs to be mutually enjoyable for you to be completely satisfied.
“Sure.” The lilt in his voice is so sweet that it borders on condescending. “While you do that, I think I’ll have my appetizer.”
It’s corny, overused and a little degrading - exactly the type of one-liner you’d ordinarily find in porn - but he gives you no time to call him out for it. As soon as he’s done talking, he wags his tongue out and drags it across the red lace, and the repeated up and down motions quickly dampen your panties.
You notice with great frustration that he takes care to avoid your clit, focusing instead on licking broad stripes over slit and, to your surprise, around your rim. He doesn’t stop until your underwear drips with the accumulation of your essence and his saliva. The soaked lace rubs against you, the rough texture adding pressure to your most sensitive zones, until you can’t tell if the extra sensation is a blessing or a curse. Your hips jerk forward every so often, unsure if you’d rather lean into or escape his torturous games. Because as amazing as Hoseok’s tongue feels, you know your body well enough to be able to tell that this particular tempo won’t bring you to your peak.
An appetizer, he had called it. That’s exactly what the teasing ministrations feel like - a small sampling before the main course. It’s satisfying and maddening in its own way. Good, but not enough to satisfy your ravenous appetite.
He unearths himself from your dripping core, chin shiny with your juices.
“Keep focus,” he instructs as he slots two fingers inside of you. You’re wet enough that they slide in without too much difficulty, the stretch making your stomach clench. “I thought you said you knew how to cook pasta.”
Against your will, you force yourself to focus on the bubbling water in front of you. As much as you want to push your hips back and ride his fingers until you’re pushed over the edge, you can’t take the humiliation of messing up pasta - even if it is for the sake of a porn scenario.
It’s fucking pasta! You have to be seriously inept to mess up such a simple dish...
But what should have been an effortless task becomes more challenging than expected. Hoseok refuses to go easy on you. If anything, your stubborn silence is all the motivation he needs to thrust his fingers inside of you harder, curving them at an angle that makes your knees wobble. You struggle to keep any incriminating noises at bay but despite your best efforts, several muffled moans slip out one after the other.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, the logical side of you points out how dangerous all of this is. What if, during your impending orgasm, your body seizes up and knocks the boiling water everywhere during the process? You quickly switch off the gas stove at the thought. Better be safe than sorry.
Just then, Hoseok adds his tongue to the mix, his fingers relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. You bite back a curse as the wooden spoon slips from your hold and clatters to the floor.
“Ah fu - Oh God,” you stutter, hands holding on to the edge of the counter for dear life.
You’ve been eaten out God knows how many times in your life, but not many have instinctively known what really gets you going. Hoseok laps at your core, tongue collecting the moisture that seeps through the fabric of your ruined panties, while his fingers scissor you open for his cock.
Your stomach clenches as you imagine how well he’d fill you up. Who the hell would ever want pasta for dinner when Hoseok could feed you his cock instead? Definitely not you, that’s for sure.
It’s easy to picture it. All he’d need to do is stand up, unzip his pants and spear you open with a practiced roll of his hips. Maybe he’d make you toss a salad while he fucks you from behind, slapping your ass whenever you forget to keep stirring the ingredients together. Or perhaps he’d let you ride his dick on the kitchen floor, too impatient to make it to a more comfortable surface.
Your imagination knows no bounds. Once you start, you can’t stop thinking of more lascivious scenarios, each one more daring and debauched than the last. The heat between your legs becomes unbearable and still, you ache for more.
Hoseok pulls away from the apex of your thighs and snorts, the sound pulling you out of your depraved thoughts. The pace of his thrusting slows down without stopping completely, his fingers still pressed deep within you. Your arms tremble as they try to keep you upright, knuckles white from the strength of your grip around the counter’s edge. You exhale shakily.
A whine works its way into your voice. “Why - why’d you stop?”
Ignoring your protests, he pops his fingers out of you and indulges in one last lick of your swollen pussy, before gathering to his feet. He rolls down your dress back over your bum and peers over your shoulder, acting as nothing had ever happened.
“Thought you said you’d take care of dinner, hm?” Hoseok has the gall to hum in disappointment.
Your mouth opens in outrage. “You!”
Hoseok pouts. “I thought we said you wouldn’t blame me for any soggy pasta.”
“You’re impossible,” you say without any real heat to your words.
“But you love me that way.”
He smiles as he leans in to kiss you, lips sticky and warm. You follow the pace he sets as best you can, unaccustomed to the way he takes his time - like you’re a delicacy that demands to be savored and not gulped down. On-screen kisses are usually rushed, messy, with too much tongue. They’re a scripted affair, more for show than out of real affection. When men tuck back your hair behind your ear or palm your cheek, it’s only to better angle your face for the camera.
There is something intimate about the way he holds you, the way he looks at you. Inwardly, you can't help but admire his acting skills. There’s something tender about the way he handles you that’s distinctly different from any of your previous onscreen partners. Sure, you’ve shot vanilla sex scenes before, but never of this variety. None of the male actors’ performances have made you wish, even fleetingly, foolishly, that the scene was real.
Hoseok pulls up for air before your mind can wander off completely, his panting mouth a hairsbreadth away. Lips touching but not quite.
Blearily, you blink your eyes open. You’re close enough that your noses brush against one another, your breaths mingling together. Hoseok’s eyes remain closed throughout, like he doesn’t want the moment to end. He looks so content that you can’t bring yourself to do anything else but melt further into his embrace, gaze drinking in the minute details of his face - like the tiny moles dotting his cheekbone and upper lip and the pretty curve of his eyes.
“And cut!”
You both jump away from each other, startled. For a second there, the storyline you’d been instructed to follow had slipped from your mind. You’re unsure if the lapse in judgement is good or bad but you don’t let the question linger in your thoughts. You’ll have plenty of time to dissect your performance at a later time.
“Good, good. That wasn’t what I was expecting but I don’t think anyone has any objections?” Director Ryu claps his hands. “Fifteen minute break sound good everyone? Then we’ll relocate to the bedroom to shoot the next part.”
There’s a general hum of agreement from the crew members. Chairs and various other equipment scrape the floor as the personnel prepare to migrate to the other room for filming. Jimin’s gaze meets yours briefly but all he can do is smile weakly in your direction before he’s ordered to help push some of the equipment down the hall.
Someone comes up to you with a bottle of water while another steps closer to blot the beads of sweat near your hairline and reapply a layer of lipstick. The make-up artist knits her brows in concentration until she’s satisfied with the touch-ups. She then moves on to Hoseok, make-up palette and brush at the ready, and grumbles loudly about the sticky residue covering his face. You hear Hoseok bellow a laugh, the sound so infectious that even the make-up artist joins in.
You sip your water through a straw, careful not to smudge your freshly applied lipstick, and check your phone for any missed messages.
“Was all of that okay?”
“Hm?” You look up and are surprised to see Hoseok stare at you expectantly. “I, uh, know some girls aren’t into ass play. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before jumping the gun but I figured - since you said there wasn’t anything major you were adverse to filming...”
His voice trails off.
“I liked it.” The admission is an easy one. “It did take me by surprise, but - I don’t have any complaints.”
“Ah, really?” Hoseok’s mouth corners upturn in relief. “That’s good to know. I was thinking - for the next scene - what if - I mean, are you okay with calling me Daddy?”
You tilt your head as you mull over the proposition.
“Daddy?”
“It’s not - you don’t have to. But listening to Director Ryu go on earlier made me think of something we could do. I think it fits well with the general idea. What do you think?”
“I’m fine with it.” Using the title doesn’t make you squeamish so you shrug in compliance. It’s not the first you’ve had to incorporate a daddy kink into the scene and it likely won’t be the last. You don’t see why you wouldn’t or shouldn’t do it with Hoseok. “I’ll follow your lead like I’ve been doing.”
It’s only as you’re following him towards the bedroom that you recall that you’ve yet to get to the crux of the scene - the damned impregnation kink. Even though you’re considerably less nervous than you’d been an hour or two ago, the thought of begging someone you barely know for something so intimate makes your stomach flip-flop. You don’t even have unprotected sex with Jimin and he’s your boyfriend.
Speaking of Jimin, you try to sneak in a peck or two before filming but Director Ryu intercepts you before you can make a beeline to where Jimin’s stationed behind a camera.
“How are you feeling?” The overhead light reflects off his round glasses and makes it impossible to hold eye contact unless you want to become semi-permanently blind.
“Good---”
“Wonderful. Well, we’ve positioned cameras here, here, and over there. There’ll be another camera man who’ll film with a handheld camera for closeups. Just keep that in mind. I know we’re giving you free-range to do what you feel is best and most natural but I’d hate to ask you to re-shoot because the camera couldn’t capture the both of you properly.”
You nod and he continues, “Also - please remember that you’re acting as a horny young married couple. I remember at that age I was up for anything, you get what I’m saying? People think just because you put a ring on your finger the sex automatically becomes stale. Fuck that. Show people married couples are freaks in the sheet.”
“Uh... Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”
He claps a hand over your shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”
Freaks in the sheet? What did he expect you to do? Try out all the sex positions in the Kama Sutra?
“What did he want now?” Hoseok leans over to whisper once you’re seated comfortably on the bed. You’re hoping the mics don’t pick up the conversation but would rather not take the risk of being overheard bad-mouthing the director.
Shrugging, you say, “Just that this scene should be spicier.”
Hoseok raises his brow, lips quirking into a smirk. “That so?”
The same cockiness you’d caught a glimpse of during your escapade in the kitchen is back and the memory you associate it with makes the back of your neck prickle with heat. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.
Thankfully Director Ryu interrupts before Hoseok has the chance to fluster you further. You follow each of the director’s voiced directives until you’re comfortably seated on Hoseok’s lap, dress hitched around your waist because of how far your knees are spread on either side of Hoseok’s thighs. There’s a quick, last minute adjustment as Director Ryu ensures that the camera in the left corner picks up on everything it’s supposed to.
Satisfied, he lets you take the reins from there, then gives the cameras the signal to begin rolling.
You don’t waste a moment, taking his earlier commentary to heart. It’s your turn to pepper kisses all over Hoseok’s golden skin, leaving faint traces of rouge behind like an artist signing their own painting. You stop a few times to admire your work. Lip prints and lavender bite marks color his skin and the sight awakens a possessive streak you didn’t know you had.
Your enthusiasm to mark him up gets a little out of hand.
"Mhm." Hoseok grunts when you lick over a sensitive spot under his jaw. "Slow down, princess. There's no rush. We have all night."
He cups his chin between his hands so you have no choice but to relent and direct your gaze up at him. You’re pleased to see that he’s not completely indifferent to your touch; despite his instructions to take it slow, the smoldering look in his eyes tell a different story.
He runs the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, the pink flesh no doubt swollen. You take the digit in your mouth, unprompted, and run your tongue against its underside, wishing that his cock could fill your mouth instead.
Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, not quite a growl but close.
"And I intend to take my time with you." The look he levels you with promises a night full of mind-numbing pleasure. Ribbons of heat curl around the base of your spine. "Want to make you feel good."
"You do," you agree, words muffled around the thumb you refuse to let go of.
You take a hold of his wrist and free your mouth, only to quickly replace it with his forefinger and middle finger. The stretch of two digits makes you moan lewdly.
Hoseok’s eyes darken. He lets you play for a few more seconds before he takes back control, his fingers pushing deeper into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. You swallow down a gag, but his fingers don’t let you rest for long. He drags them over the flat of your tongue, watching as spit dribbles down past the sides of your mouth, and repeats the motion, pumping into your mouth steadily like he would a cock.
As nice as it feels to be filled with his fingers, whether in your cunt or mouth, you’re ready for more. Subconsciously, your hips grind down in his lap, shifting this way and that until you’re perfectly seated over his hardened length.
Drool is pushed out of your mouth as Hoseok squeezes a third fingers in with the other two. You suck harder, hoping that all your efforts will spur Hoseok into finally fucking you. The knowledge that he has to, at one point or another, keeps you from whining and begging pathetically for his cock. You can exercise patience if you put your mind to it; you’re sure of it.
Your on-screen husband decides to test that resolve.
His other hand starts to wander south, his fingers toying with the short hem of your dress that’s been rucked up even higher with all your rocking and grinding. The movement of your hips slow, your brain unable to keep up with the stimuli coming in all directions.
A crack resounds in the room, the sharp sound startling you more than the sting that accompanies it. Hoseok’s palm rubs over the heated area, only inflaming it further.
“And who told you you could stop?”
The second slap is notably harsher than the first, and your hips automatically lurch forward hoping perhaps to lessen the impact of the sting.
You know he doesn’t expect a verbal answer; his second hand keeps your mouth plugged up, making any attempt at talking unintelligible. It doesn’t stop you from trying, only because you know the muffled protest are greatly appreciated amongst viewers. And if the way Hoseok’s digs his fingers into your smarting ass cheek is any indicator, you’re confident that he also enjoys your squirming and messy display.
“Keep moving, princess. I need both your holes nice and wet.”
The way his voice dips an octave makes your stomach twist in arousal. You long to tell him that you’re sufficiently wet enough for him to slide his cock inside right away but all you manage are pitiful garbled words.
He raises an eyebrow at your delayed response and your hips move before he can smack the globes of your ass for a third time. You have an inkling he’ll only hit harder with the intention of leaving marks of his own all over your skin.
It’s a careful balancing act, but you figure it out as you go. Bounce too fast and the fingers in your mouth will make you gag. Move too slowly for his liking and he won’t hesitate to add to the collection of handprints on your ass.
You lose track of how long he makes you play this game. Your mind focuses on sucking while keeping your jaw slack enough to accomadate the width of three digits. Drool pools down your chin, and you’re certain whatever the make-up artist had done to your lips is now ruined. Worse off are your panties. At the stage they’re at now, you’ll have no choice but to throw them out. Hoseok’s pants might need be as unsalveagable as your thong, you think inwardly, judging by the large, dark wet spot you’re currently sitting on.
“Mmh, good girl.”
He gently slides his fingers out, strings of saliva attached. He hums in satisfaction at the lewd sight and rubs his fingers across your swollen lips and shiny chin, spreading the fluids and what’s left of your lipstick over your mouth. You swallow, mouth sore from being used roughly for so long.
“This hole is sufficiently wet, I think,” he appraises, eyelashes fluttering before he casts a long look down your body until it reaches where you’re seated on his clothed erection. “Let’s check this one too.”
The way he smirks at you but makes no move to check himself lets you know that he expects you to do the work.
You let your hands trail down your body slowly, cupping your breasts as you do, enjoying his hooded gaze and the way his cock twitches beneath you a bit too much. When you reach the hem of your dress, you lift your hips up to pull the fabric up to your navel giving an unobstructed view of your lace-covered pussy.
Hoseok stare intensifies but you don’t feel any embarrassment from the scrutiny. “Well you certainly look ripe.”
His fingers toy with the delicate string of lace around your hips. He lets the material snap against your skin a few times before he grows bored or impatient with his own game and gives the lace a harsh yank. It tears easily and the leftover scraps fall into his lap.
“... But just to be sure -” His hands grip your waist and manhandle you onto your hands and knees. Your head spins from how suddenly he’s moved you around to his liking that your arms give out and you fall face first into the clean smelling bed sheets. “Gotta give my favorite hole of yours a better look.”
His hands hoist your hips at a higher angle so that your soaked center is visible for the cameras to pan onto. Hoseok slides in two fingers easily, then a third. Loud, obscene noises echo in the otherwise quiet room, noises that are quickly joined by your unabashed moans of pleasure.
Your core is on fire. Hoseok’s fingers are just as good as you remember them to be. No, better. The three fingers pump into you in measured strokes, the drag slow enough to keep you dangling over the edge without pushing you over.
Hoseok spanks your ass, hissing between his teeth as you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining your inner walls hugging his cock instead.
“Christ. You’re always such a soft, wet little thing down here,” he croons in dulcet tones. “I could play with you all day.”
You thrust your hips back, shameless.
“Please! Please Daddy, I’ll be so good, I just - please - I nuh, need it. Need your cock fucking me full. I’ll take it so good, you know I will. Want you to - please! Daddy, I need your cum.”
“Shit.”
He fumbles in his haste to flip you onto your back. He crawls over your body, and you watch fascinated as he dives down to kiss you like a man starved. He looks almost feral, pupils so dilated the brown of his eyes is almost gone.
Heat blooms in your stomach as he kisses you deeply. The press of his lips against yours renders you a little less coherent as time ticks on, every brush of his tongue making you a little more dizzy with want.
Everything about him burns. It feels like being kissed by the sun itself. Every caress, every lick and nip leaves you feverish all over, like your drunk off his touch.
"Let me," he says, pinching the zipper of your dress between his thumb and index finger.
You wrap your hand around his and guide his movements. His gaze never leaves yours and it makes shivers run down your back. Even though you're the one controlling his movements for the time being, the look in his eyes makes it abundantly clear that the control you wield is only temporary.
When your dress finally falls open, you try not to preen too much under the reverent look that falls over Hoseok’s face. Your back arches a little off the bed, pert breasts thrust towards him - an appealing offer he doesn’t dare refuse.
Hoseok circles a thumb around your nipple, rubbing and flicking until it hardens into a stiff peak.
You wonder, distantly, how this looks like from the outside looking in. The man in front of you is a stranger in all senses of the word. Yet the way he touches you - like there are years of built-up affection behind every gesture - makes you second guess everything you know.
"Fuckin' love your tits.” He sighs, awe reflected in the dark of his eyes. "Love playing with them. Love how wet it gets you, how hungry your little pussy gets."
"Please,” you mewl, his words igniting a new wave of heat. It rolls over your body, leaving no extremity untouched. You burn from the inside out with raw desire.
You squeeze your own breasts in a bid to get him to touch you more. Hoseok merely chuckles, finding your desperation entertaining. One of his hands reach down between you to play with the wetness that clings to your core like a second skin and it takes everything inside of you not to rub yourself against him like a bitch in heat.
"What is it, princess?" His lips quirk into a smirk like he already knows the answer. "You're looking quite needy. How did you manage to hold it in all this time?"
“Stop teasing,” you growl, the lack of friction making you irritable. "I need your cock. And why - why do you have so many fucking clothes on?”
He chuckles, chest vibrating in amusement.
“Take them off,” you insist. Then, you grudgingly tack on a “Please” for good measure.
As hot as Hoseok looks like in his “work clothes”, he looks infinitely better naked, you decide as he chucks off his button-down shirt and gets started on his leather belt. With each new piece of clothing that gets discarded, the anticipation building inside of you skyrockets.
You take a moment to soak in his lithe figure, not bothering to hide how affected you are by the view. He’s nicely sculpted; you can tell right away that he takes care of himself. Swimming or dancing maybe? You hesitate between the two. His muscles are lean, nothing like the bulging biceps and thick forearms typical of the stereotypical gym rat.
Hoseok’s dick is, unsurprisingly, as pretty as the rest of him. It’s long and curved, a prominent vein running along its underside. The thatch of pubic hair that rests above his dick is neatly trimmed, the dark hair contrasting with the tan skin of his abdomen and the rosy hue of his erect length. Your eyes swoop down his thighs, licking your lips unwittingly at the alluring sight presented to you.
“Daddy,” you say, the whine in your voice unmistakable. “Want your cock.”
For a brief moment you’re tricked into believing he’s given in to your demand, but find yourself disappointed when he contents himself with rubbing his hardened member between your thighs, the glide slippery thanks to the copious amount of your essence that’s pooled there.
“Like this?” Hoseok asks, tone too sweet to be anything but mocking. The head of his cock bumps into your swollen bundle of nerves one, two, three times. You keen, your hips canting upwards in a bid to get more friction. “Want to rut against me until you get nice and creamy?”
He uses his right hand to spread your slick lower lips so that he can nestle his cock snuggly between them. He rolls his hips, the undulations fluid and dirty, and smirks at how you moan brokenly beneath him.
Your stomach clenches. “Need it in me."
"You'll get it," he promises after kissing you sloppily, lips sucking on your tongue. His breath is ragged but his voice steady, firm. "I'll give you everything you need. Make you cum so many times you know who owns this sweet pussy."
He speaks so surely, carries himself with so much confidence, that in the moment you can't help but believe him. The line between staged and reality blurs and you find yourself nodding eagerly, begging him as best you can to give you what you want.
The first tentative push of his dick wipes you clean of coherency. He slowly eases himself into you, reaching forward to lace his fingers with yours. It’s - more intimate than you expected. He squeezes your hand tightly in his when he finally manages to bury his entire length inside of you.
“Perfect.” He kisses the side of your temple before drawing back, his hard cock dragging deliciously against you. With a fluid hip thrust, he slides back in and you feel the stretch moreso this time around. The curvature of his cock has him pressing up against your walls in a way that robs you of breath.
"Daddy! Hh - ah, oh God. You're too b-big."
"Mhm, that's right. Daddy's fat cock is splitting you open. I'll plug you up with it later so none of my cum will leak out."
Every time he pulls back, your pussy clamps down tightly around him, unwilling to be empty even for a second.
Hoseok’s nostrils flare in arousal. He grabs your left tit and squeezes, using it as a hold to better fuck into you. With his body hovering above yours, his hand staking claim of your breast, and his cock drilling into you, you have nowhere to go. Pinned to the bed and unable to do anything but take everything he delivers, you wrap your legs around his waist and moan.
"Daddy's gonna fuck some babies into you,” he rasps, his eyes dark pools of lust. "Gonna breed your sweet pussy over and over. You'll be so full of my cum that you'll be pregnant with my babies for sure."
“Oh fuck. Yes, yes - oh my nhhg.” You sob as Hoseok drives his cock into you with more force. While the piston of his hips isn’t rushed, he pulls out to the tip only to slam back in to the hilt every time. The stretch burns in a good way and the sound of your moans are rivaled only by the wet, obscene sounds from your coupling.
"Fuck. Your cunt just - shit." He cracks down a hand against your ass and you shriek, not expecting it. "You're so tight, holy shit."
"Want it. Want you to fuck me good."
"I will," he says lowly, the promise reverberating deep in his chest. "I'll fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Fill you up so much, you'll be bloated with it."
And it should freak you out, the imagery he paints with his words, but the thought of laying there and him fucking you so well that you won't be able to feel your legs has you gushing out more wetness.
"Mmmh.” Maybe he can feel how soaked you are because he comments, “This is my favorite hole of yours, princess. Always so fuckin' drenched. I bet we’ll have to throw out the sheets again." He chuckles. "You must be hungry for it, right? I made you wait so long. No wonder your pussy is clenching like that. It needs a big, fat cock to milk dry."
“I missed it,” you cry, body skidding a little higher up the duvet each time he fucks into you. Your eyelashes flutter, lids heavy. It’s hard to concentrate, let alone form words, when your brain feels like complete mush. “I - I need your cum. Daddy, please.”
"Don't worry, gorgeous. I've got you. Daddy will feed your cute pussy his cock."
"Th-thank you, Daddy."
"Love you," he murmurs. It’s a quiet confession, lost somewhere in between the mattress creaks, the loud slaps of Hoseok’s hips slamming against yours, and the string of whimpers and groans pulled from your throat. It’s quiet but you hear it.
One of your hands reach up to pull him down by the neck so that your lips meet. He kisses you open-mouthed. It’s a filthy kiss, one that makes you moan into his mouth. You’re certain that if you had been standing your knees would have wobbled.
When you let up for air, Hoseok’s staring you down, his red-bitten lips plump and shiny.
"Love this pussy. So sweet and wet for me. Always for fucking swollen, like it's waiting to get a pounding. Love that. Love how eager you are to be bred by my thick cock."
The impregnation kink is - a bit much. You've never really imagined having kids, at least not anytime soon. You can’t even keep your plants alive for fuck’s sake.
But the way he suggests it is nothing like what you had imagined. His suggestions are - vulgar and primal. Like the urge to fuck you full of his cum is biological and he can’t smother it.
For a moment, you let yourself entertain the thought of being his breeding bitch - of laying on your back and letting him fuck load after load of cum inside you until your pussy physically can't accommodate any more. Of not having any other worries or thoughts but take his cock every moment of the day.
"You just got tighter.” He curses under his breath, voice thick with arousal. "Such a warm little hole. Taking everything I give it. You'd take anything if it meant getting bred by me, right?"
“Yes, yes,” you chant, pleasure coiling inside of you. “Give me more! I need it."
"Shit. You can't handle more, princess," he tries to reason. "Daddy needs to be gentle with you. Your hole is so small, it'll hurt if I go harder."
"Daddy promised to fuck me.” You whine, uncaring if you sound too bratty and demanding. "B- Breed my hole. It's yours. Puh-please use me."
"God." Hoseok groans, his features twisting in what looks to be pain or pleasure. With tremendous effort he pulls himself out of you and your eyes widen in panic.
“What? Daddy why? I thought—”
He shushes you, reaching somewhere overhead to grab a fluffy pillow. "Just wait a sec, okay? There you go.”
The pillow is placed underneath your hips, keeping them elevated. When Hoseok takes his glistening cock in hand and directs it back in, you both moan in unison.
"Oh fuck, I’m gonna, ah,” you gasp as your mind goes blank with pleasure. The new angle is heaven on earth. It’s almost too much, too quick, but Hoseok’s firm grip on your hips prevents you from alleviating the pressure.
"Take it." He grunts, brows knit together. Every powerful snap of his hips makes your breasts bounce, your breath hitch. Without his hands keeping you pinned down, your head would have collided with the headboard by now. "Be a good princess and take your fucking."
He gains momentum, the new angle facilitating the slide of his cock. He drags the flat of his palm down your thigh and takes a hold of your knee before hoisting it up over your shoulder. The stretch burns the back of your calves but you’re so fucked out, you can’t even find the words to complain.
When you glance up, it’s to fall upon the sight of Hoseok brushing his sweaty fringe out of his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, his skin dewy from the film of perspiration wrapped around his body. Beads of sweat trickle down his heaving chest but he chooses to forgo a quick break. On the contrary, he pushes in deeper like he’s determined to carve out a permanent space for his cock.
"Just gonna keep you here,” he huffs, his eyes the shade of cloudless night sky. “Everyday I'll fuck my cum back inside of you so that you'll always stay full. Want to fuck you forever. Don't want this to end."
"Want it too," you sob, orgasm hovering just on the periphery. "Want you to keep me full forever. Ugh - oh fuck! Hoseok- I'm—"
"You gonna cum around my cock, princess?" He angles his hips downwards, relishing in the wanton cry it elicits. "Gonna give me everything?"
"I'm yours," you profess, jaw slack with pleasure.
It doesn’t take much more for the orgasm to crash over you, Hoseok fucks you through it, groaning as your inner walls spasm around him. He breathes out curses, lip drawn tight between his lips, and doesn’t wait for the last waves of your orgasm to abate to chase after his own end.
In the throes of your pleasure, it doesn’t register then that Hoseok has been holding back all this time. If you thought he had been fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to now. He growls and bends forward, forcing your leg to stretch even more, and pushes in and out of you at a pace that makes you scream.
You don’t even have time to come down from your first high that you’re already thrown towards your second. Hoseok plugs your mouth up using two digits, his fingers a firm pressure against your tongue. Your eyes roll back, too overwhelmed from the feeling of being stuffed on both ends.
“God, I could fuck your holes all fucking day.” His rhythm begins to falter as the pressure inside of him grows, his movements frantic and less controlled than they’ve ever been. “How about that? I’ll fuck my princess’ mouth properly next time, stretch it out nicely. Then you’ll let me have your ass, hm?”
Shit, shit, you whimper around his fingers, spit bubbling down the sides on your mouth. It’s scary knowing you have no way to stop the oncoming destruction.
“Yeah, I can tell you love that. You’re gonna cream my dick again, aren’t you?” You can’t tell if the sound he makes is a laugh or a grunt. All you know is that you feel like you’re about to burst. “C’mon, be a good girl and milk my cum out. You better get every last drop.”
There’s an underlying threat in his command. You do your best to obey his words, not wanting to disappoint.
Hoseok pushes his cock in as deep as it can go and grinds his hips into yours. His cock reaches so deep that you swear he might hit your cervix. And considering the nature of the scene you’re portraying, maybe that’s what he intends.
He swipes his fingers through the mess of your cunt, zeroing in on your sensitive clit. He swirls some of your fluids over it before giving it a sharp pinch that makes you cry out. Your hips fly off the pillow but Hoseok is quick to pin you back down. The never-ending drag of his cock along your walls paired with the rough ministrations to your clit is all you need for the pressure inside you to snap.
Above you, Hoseok moans, low and throaty, as he finally dumps rope after rope of warm cum inside of you. He throws his head back, exposing the collar of purplish bruises you sucked onto his skin earlier. Something about the view satisfies you immensely - not that you’d dare voice these thoughts out loud.
Hoseok’s strength gives out and he sags onto your body, his breath warm against your skin. He feels hot, like a furnace, but strangely it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost like having a personal heating pad; the soreness of your muscles melts away with each passing moment.
Much to your displeasure, your post-coital bliss doesn’t last forever. He's given the signal to pull out and obeys, careful to keep your hips propped up so that his load of cum won’t slosh out. He’s still got a role to play, after all, and the end goal is to get you pregnant.
A cameraman walks forward to zoom in on your swollen and used pussy - physical proof of your exploits. The haze lifts. You become more aware of the people standing on the outskirts of your vision, lighting or sound equipment in hand.
“And that’s a wrap!” Director Ryu calls, his cheeks stretched to accommodate the width of his grin. “Good job everybody!”
You breathe out a sigh, glad your day is finally over. Seokjin walks up to you with a robe for you to throw on and you nod in thanks, slipping the satin gown over your sweaty body.
Around you, the staff start milling about, putting the equipment away and gathering their belongings. You pay them no heed, your attention focused on getting changing into showering and changing into comfortable clothes. You’re in the middle of taming your messy hair when your stomach erupts into growls, reminding you of your hungry state. What you’d do for a big slice of piz—
You remember your date with Jimin and speed up, not wanting to make him wait around for you any longer. It’s not hard to spot him - he’s waiting outside of your dressing room, can of coke in hand.
Something about his smile feels off.
Maybe it’s the way his eye corners don’t crease or the slight strain the curve of his mouth that betray him.
Your expression falls. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing - it’s nothing, don’t worry,” he says after a short, tense moment of silence. The look on your face must have reflected your feelings of doubt because he proceeds by reaching out and pulling you tight against him. Pressed up against his shirt, you can smell the faintest trace of the fabric softener he uses and its scent, familiar and sweet, mollifies you somewhat. “You did amazing today, baby. As usual.”
The compliment you’ve been waiting for makes the sides of your lips rise automatically. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Almost too well.” He hums, one of his hands stroking the back of your head.
“Well, I can’t take all the credit, “ you admit. “The results wouldn’t have been half as good if Hoseok hadn’t been my partner. He’s new in the game but he doesn’t act like it, does he?”
“He doesn’t, no.” Jimin agrees. “He’s... he’s something, alright.”
Your grin widens. All your worrying had been for nothing, in the end. The shoot had gone without a hitch, all of the set members coming up to you with praises of a job well done. You can’t recall the last time any of your performances had elicited such a response post-filming. Even Director Ryu looks particularly pleased, a permanent grin etched onto his features as he reviews the tapes. The knowledge that you’ve done well fills you with a pleasant giddiness that warms your insides and makes your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile stretches.
“Oh good, you’re still here.” Hoseok beams. A damp towel hangs around his neck and the ends of his hair are wet like he’s just gone and doused his head under the bathroom faucet. “I was worried you had left. I just - thanks for earlier. I had a lot of fun! If the chance presents itself, I hope we can work together again.”
“Thank you.” You want to praise him too, know that his performance deserves it, but your next words are cut off before they have the chance to form. Jimin steps closer to you, his grip on your hip tightening suddenly.
When you glance up to check on your boyfriend, he’s sporting a serious expression that you’ve rarely seen before. He doesn’t look angry, but it’s clear as day that he isn’t too pleased with the present situation. His face is closed off, cold, unwelcoming - so drastically different from the usual cherubic sweetness you’re accustomed to seeing.
You’re at a loss for words, unsure of who to address first. What’s going on?
Hoseok senses the sudden change in atmosphere and chooses to tactfully retreat.
“Good work, man.” He nods at Jimin and then shoots you a wave. “See you around sometime, ______ !”
Your eyes follow his exit before you turn to face Jimin again, hoping the smile on your face masks the worry you feel bubbling on the inside.
“Jimin what - I mean, are you sure you're okay?”
Jimin returns a strained smile of his own. “I’m fine.”
Your gaze lands on his right hand that’s still squeezing your waist. It borders on uncomfortable but you try not to let it show. You must not do a very good job at schooling your features because Jimin quickly apologizes for his behavior.
“Sorry.” Jimin lets you go once he notices your discomfort. “I just - I don’t know. You’re right, I’m not acting like myself. I think...seeing you say that stuff and act that way just - I’m not sure why, I guess - Since usually the sex isn’t like that, it caught me off guard.”
“You didn’t like that I acted like I was in love with him.”
“Would anyone?” he shoots back, smile sardonic. “It just looked so convincing in the moment. I guess it got me worked up.”
Sure, Hoseok is hot. If you had to work with him again, you would in a heartbeat. It’s not often you land a colleague you’re so sexually compatible with, who also happens to be so well-mannered and good-looking. It’s like hitting the jackpot, really.
But - just because you’d fuck him again for professional reasons, doesn’t mean that you’re interested in him beyond that.
“Jimin. I don’t want to be with anybody else but you.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” The muscles in his face relax. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
.
.
It’s not until later, as he fucks you uncharacteristically hard in the backseat of his car parked in the back lot of the film studio, that you begin to wonder if things really are as idyllic as you believe them to be.
.
.
.
#wow so this took a decade and a half to finish but it's finally here !#final part should be up by the end of the month : )#bts smut#hoseok smut#hoseok#also warning i didn't proofread the smut scene yet so rip if there are any mistakes
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I request: Leonardo. Please and thank you 🙏.
Idk if everyone loves Leo or if my header and avatar just remind everyone about this amazing blue boy. (This one’s super silly btw. I’m just sillier as time goes on. Character development I guess?)
The iconic leador
Leonardo (1987)
Bro idk why but I loved this Leo. I have a tiny memory, especially with this version but I clearly remember that I thought he was the funniest and the coolest. I mean, he had swords, what was I supposed to do as a 7-year-old. NOT like him??? Anyway, while Raph was the best at insult comedy, I think Leo had the best puns and punchlines. I really like how nonchalant this Leo is compared to his iterations, going along with really silly ideas and having fun along the way. But because of this, his leadership is a little forced at times, he seems like such a chill and fun dude that when he gets serious, I have to squint and ask ‘are you Leo? Or were you just putting on act a moment ago?’ Or my perception is entirely warped over time. Either way, good turtle boy, could have used some work tho.
5.7/10
Here comes grumpy lad wooo this is all read very monotone btw
Fearless Leader (2003)
What. What the fuck happened. I was actually so confused when Leo turned really angry and serious and almost manic. I thought that episode when he popped into Casey’s window and was like ‘Hey bitch lets go beat the shit out of some lowlifes’ I was WOAH THERE BUDDY BACK UP BACK UP BACK TF UP. It was so sudden to me and when it was finally explained, it made some sense??? Like yeah, character development is great an’ all but this ain’t it chief. I can’t imagine what it was like having to wait for these episodes to release one at a time. Bc I watched every episode back to back on Youtube and I was genuinely bamboozled. But when you have an experience like that where guilt is weighing down on you from a situation you couldn’t control, it would’ve been HELLA HELPFUL to have at least a flashback, like a line saying ‘I was so useless!’ at BARE MINIMUM. Like right after Shredder is booted off to Planet Zula, Donnie would notice that Leo didn’t seem all that happy and would ask why and Leo would get upset and yell at Donnie saying that ‘You wouldn’t understand’, ‘You don’t know how I felt, how I feel because of that’, etc. Like you don’t even have to say he felt guilty or helpless, just give us something to grab onto. We’re merely six-year-olds who thought they could climb the YMCA rock wall in easy mode but instead the script riders harnessed us up on the hard one and wouldn’t let us come down until we rang the little bell at the top. I think that is the only problem I had with his Leo. The sudden change of calm and decisive to angry and irrational was so jarring that it felt unnatural without that crucial context. If you want a surprise reveal, at least hint at the reveal (like just about every Disney movie with their ‘twist’ villains) not wait until the very last moment. I think this might be my least favorite Leo and I think the season where he stood out the most and seemed the strongest was Fast Forward (Which was GOOD FIGHT ME), especially in scenes with Dark Leo, his clone. He sees so much of himself in Dark Leo but he also sees something he had once grasped (AKA the poorly written character arc, I CANNOT stress how bad I thought it was). Although, I honestly think he’s a really good character and he’s a pretty neat guy. However, this score is entirely held up by Fast Forward and his connection with Usagi, sword bros to the end of time.
3/10 (2 for FF and 1 for Usagi)
And now a Leo that makes me genuinely feel UWU
Leo (2012)
I cannot stress how much I like this guy! Like his design is so appealing, his dedication, his obsession with Space Heroes, like I FUCKING LOVE IT. And everyone knows, that shit with Karai, at first when they didn’t realize they were related, I can let slide but kajsdflksadf what even like why did the writers feel the need to add in more ‘love interest’ implications like yuck yuck yuck. The only two interactions with Leo and Karai that I really like are when Leo defeats her using the healing hands technique and when Leo has a goth/emo/punk/idk I’m new here phase and they team up and EXPLOSIONS. He was introduced to us as being incredibly naive and his idea of leadership is from some old cartoon that’s basically star trek but ethically questionable. After his fights in season 1, to the finale with the technodrome, you can see his growth. He’s able to formulate plans and make life or death decisions. BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE. When Leo got hurt, I felt like the oof sound effect mixed with some tears I normally shed at some Shojo manga bs. While the episodes following were super weird, it was a nice way to help Leo recover, not only physically but spiritually (Although I don’t remember the spirit arc at all except the epic Raph vs Fishface fight, so we’re skipping that). When Master Splinter really died, you could tell there was a huge impact on Leo, but he had to remain stoic and lead the family now. A lot of heartbreaking moments in this series came from Leo and I’m glad they took at least some thought into developing him. Tiny head Leo will haunt my nightmares, but the giggly fanboy will warm my heart constantly.
6/10
I only have one word for this
Leo (Heroes in a Half Shell: Blast to the Past)
This is a super crazy bad idea accent on the super crazy bad part have I mentioned it’s also a really terrible idea/10
Okay, spoiler alert, didn’t really think this Leo was that grand
Leo (2014/2016)
Painfully average. He didn’t stand out that much, Raph was part of the focus and had that touching scene at the end, Donnie was ICONIC and Mikey (with his weird-ass eyes) was super lively and funny! Leo? Uh, I don’t remember a single line he said. Because he never really grabbed my attention, I don’t have too much to say on this version. The Raph and Leo fight felt forced and the whole ‘keep this stuff that could turn us human a secret’ was pretty pointless and was added just to cause drama, I don’t even remember what that Splinter and Leo conversation was about. Design-wise, really neat! You can see some more traditional Japanese clothing/style mixed with modern (I’d feel a lot better about this assumption if some could tell exactly what the heck he’s wearing, but I get traditional Japan warrior vibes from it) in his look which was super neat! Other than that, if you like him, please tell me why because I don’t get. He was just kinda eh.
5/10
AHHH MY BOY YASSS WHOOO!!
Neon Leon (2018)
Okay, I loved Ben Schwarts already from Parks and Rec but like him being Sonic AND Leo, like DUDE. He’s super funny by himself but teamed up with this shows writing and animation, it makes it hilarious. I literally love this Leo so much, maybe because we’re alike but honestly, he’s amazing. I love his design with the red and yellow crescents accenting his skin and livening up his color pallet. He has a very healthy and natural dynamic with his brothers, he’s the first to know what’s wrong and tries his best to make up for his actions. This is really prominent in the most recent episodes, along with the episode portal jacked. In both, Leo is separated from his brothers. Portal Jacked is in a more literal sense, while Air Turtle handles in more of an emotional sense. While both are brief, Leo sees his error and tries his best to make it up to them. I love his dynamic so much and it’s so nice to see something like this compared to the unnecessary drama and tension between the brothers in the previous series. It’s refreshing and this is something a younger audience needs to see; instead of fighting, it’s better to work together and improve yourself along the way. Improvement is a big theme for Leo here. He’s a goofball, makes jokes at every opportunity and isn’t quite skilled at fighting or using his weapon. But he grows over time, he learns to manage his power and he’s working on mastering it. He’s trying to put aside his narcissism more and focuses on his family. I think the approach they took with him rising to leader rather than slapping it on his forehead was the goddamn best decision they could make. He’s making plans, finding loopholes, helping out and getting out of his comfort zone. I cannot stress how well this show has handled Leo, along with the other characters. I can’t wait to see more episodes about his growth and I am awarding him with one of the greatest honors I could give...
10/10
Storytime: I drew a super cute 2012 Leo, you should look at him. Shameless self-promo, but you should follow me on my main blog bc I’m nice and I draw pretty pictures. Also. I have a little 2012 Leo Happy Meal toy??? I think??? guarding my window and he’s been there for YEARS. I need to bring him in and refresh his paint job.
Wow! I didn’t expect this many requests for Leo, so the blog will be momentarily spammed with the requests, but it shouldn’t be too much! Up next should be the last turtle (Mikey) and then we can get to some REALLY great requests I’m eager to answer.
As usual, please comment and reblog! I’d love to hear your opinion!
#Tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#leonardo#1987 leo#2003 leo#2012 leo#2014 leo#2016 leo#rottmnt leo#Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt#asks#I forgot how my tagging system worked
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so maybe,,,i wanna hear about the bffs double date,,,
BFF DOUBLE DATE YEEEEEEAAAAHHH BOI
I will sail the goddamn Hori/Tsukki ship myself I don’t care I love it so much
The double date was Yamaguchi and Wakamatsu’s idea
Mostly Yamaguchi really
Because he wanted Tsukishima to get to know Waka better, and he wanted to get to know Hori better
BFFs should know their BFF’s BF!
Waka agreed almost immediately bc yeah!! Best friends and boyfriends!!
Hori took a bit of convincing but c’mon who's gonna look at Wakamatsu and Yamaguchi’s faces and say no to these sweethearts?Tsukki. Tsukki is gonna look at them and say no.
“If I want to spend time with my friend I spend time with my friend. If I want to spend time with my boyfriend I spend time with my boyfriend. Why jump through all these hoops?”
It’s called BONDING Tsukishima
Yamaguchi and Hori eventually wore him down
Waka didn’t ask how
They ended up going ice skating
Hori’s idea
It went...well it went somewhere
Hori loves ice skating. Man’s fairly good at it and has a fun time.
He’s the guy that pulls his partner around on the ice
Well he usually is
Until he started dating a human salt shaker
“I am not getting on the ice”
The other three eventually wrangled a pair of skates on him but he just sat in a chair sulking
Wakamatsu is bad at ice skating
He’s played hockey before so he can like, speed skate and check people
But skating for fun? Relaxation?
Waka is not great at it
He also doesn't know how to stop without crashing so...
Yamaguchi meanwhile is having a BLAST
Is he good at ice skating? No he’s gonna be on the ground more often than not
But he is BEAMING
Yamaguchi Tadashi human sunshine confirmed
So about halfway through this little bff/bf party we have 50% of the group having fun and 50% sitting on the sides watching
Wakamatsu got tired of crashing into the barriers and ended up sitting with a still sulking Tsukishima
There watching Hori and Yamaguchi have a goddamn BLAST on the ice
Hori is skating backwards with a massive grin and pulling a giggling Yamaguchi with him and it’s wholesome and great
Are Wakamatsu and Tsukishima lowkey starstruck at their adorable partners?
Yeah. They are.
And Waka is going to salvage this damnit
Tsukki wants to but he’s...Tsukki so he’s not saying shit
So it’s up to Wakamatsu
“They’re pretty great huh.”
“What are you talking about”
“Yamaguchi and Hori senpai.”
“Duh. I wouldn't bother interacting with them if they were lame.”
C’mon Tsukki he’s trying to BOND
Luckily Wakamatsu has 2 aces up his sleeve
ZERO SELF PRESERVATION SKILLS AND ADVICE FROM THE MANGANG
“Okay that's it get up”
“I’m sorry?”
Waka is yanking Tsukki up and boy may be tall but he’s lanky and in ice skates so he’s kinda forced to lean on Wakamatsu
“We’re ice skating.”
At this point Yamaguchi and Hori have circled back around to their BFs
Only to see Waka physically drag a protesting Tsukishima onto the ice and basically dump him into Hori
Before gesturing to Yamaguchi to come sit with him
“How did you convince him to skate?”
“I...uhh...umm...”
Look Waka used all his confidence already okay give him a break
“He just needed a push I guess?”
And Yamaguchi just takes Wakamatsu’s hand and he’s smiling and it’s very wholesome and sweet
Meanwhile on the ice...nooooot so much
“Get me the fuck off this ice!”
“Would you calm down for one second?! If you’d stop flailing you won't fall!”
Hori ends up having to lowkey drag him around with Tsukki’s arms over his shoulders
Which is if anything amusing bc Tsukishima is basically bent in half to balance on Hori to not fall on his ass
But like, their faces are pretty close together and the cold is making Hori’s face flush and even though he’s kinda scowling because he’s dragging a salty preying mantis to the exit he still looks really cute so honestly Tsukishima isn’t gonna call the day a TOTAL waste
Next double date they're going to the movies no negotiations
#Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun#gsnk#mgnk#Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki Kun#Monthly Girls' Nozaki Kun#Monthly Girls Nozaki Kun#anime#incorrect#incorrect quotes#incorrect anime#incorrect anime quotes#Masayuki Hori#Hori Masayuki#MGNK Hori#GSNK Hori#gsnk at karasuno#haikyuu#haikyū!!#hq#yamaguchi tadashi#Tadashi Yamaguchi#hq yamaguchi#tsukishima kei#Kei Tsukishima#HQ Tsukishima#gsnk wakamatsu#MGNK Wakamatsu#Hirotaka Wakamatsu#Wakamatsu Hirotaka#headcanon
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Survey #355
“despite all my rage, i am still just a rat in a cage”
Have you ever shared a shower or bath with someone as an adult? No, only as a kid.
What kind of pizza toppings do you like? Meats or jalapenos.
When did you first take a shot of alcohol? Never, and I'm not interested.
Did you babysit for money when you were in middle school? No.
Who is your favorite band? How long have they been? Ozzy Osbourne, since middle school.
Has the last person you kissed ever been to your house? My old house, yes. Not the one I currently live in.
Have you ever been to a spa? Only because my friend at the time took me.
When talking on the phone, do you place it against your left or right ear? My right.
What’s your favourite Lunchables meal? The nachos one.
Do you like Bob Marley? NO. Omg his voice is awful.
Have you ever eaten at Golden Corral? Yeah. I'm not a big fan.
Do you sit and eat dinner at the same table with your family? We only ever do that if my sister is over (she comes for dinner once a week).
Are you listening to any music right now? If so, what are you listening to? Yeah, Violet Orlandi's cover of "Bullet With Butterfly Wings" by The Smashing Pumpkins. God she's so beautiful and talented and asdfjkaljddkfjlwkee FUCK I'm gay for her.
Who was the last person to make you genuinely smile? Watching Mark. :')
Is there something you want to say to someone but can’t/won’t? Yeah.
Do you like men who have a sensitive side? Yes. Please be in touch with your emotions, for the love of God.
Have you ever tried to get someone into a certain band/artist? Not persistently, no, but Mini is a case where me mentioning them enough got her to listen to them. Metallica, by the way. They're her favorite band because of mwah, haha.
Have you ever carved you and someone else’s initials into a tree? It's possible, but I don't believe so.
Do you like Dairy Queen? Love it. They're Oreo Cupfection thing is BOMB.
Is there anyone you know with an amazing personal success story? Yes. I have a friend Shannen who first was a widely-recognized photographer in the state, and now she's a fashion designer (or something like that) up in New York.
Is there a song in a different language that you can sing? A number of Rammstein songs.
How do you feel about bands that use pyrotechnics in live concerts? So long they're well-made for safety reasons, I don't care much. They do seem a bit unnecessary, though; like just look at James Hetfield's accident that burned half his body because of standing in the wrong place. It seems easy to fuck up and get in a dangerous range.
Ever fallen down a hole? No.
Do you like bananas? Yeah.
How long do you normally spend in the shower? Not even 10 minutes, usually. I've never understood how people can take such long showers.
Have you ever been a featured member on any website? Yeah, on a Silent Hill fansite.
Have you ever had any weird pets? Not by my standards. A ball python morph is as "weird" as it gets.
Are you currently talking to/texting/instant messaging anyone? Nope.
Have you ever experienced insomnia? Ugh, yes. I went through a horrible insomnia spell, and I still have an awful time trying to fall asleep.
Do you like egg nog? Nooo.
Would you ever wear Converse with a prom/formal dress? I'm not opposed to it, but realistically I'd probably wear something more traditionally suiting just because.
Do you prefer hot chocolate with or without marshmallows? Without.
How many different people of the opposite sex have you cried over? I've cried all the oceans over just one lol.
Would you rather be a surgeon or mortician? Being a mortician actually doesn't sound awful, weird as it sounds. It sounds almost relaxing if I could just be alone with some music doing my job.
Would rather be a musician or a painter? A painter.
Would you rather write your own book or make your own movie? I'd love to write a book.
At home, do you have a trampoline? No.
When you are about to go to bed, do you put on some sort of noise? No.
What is your favorite Christmas movie? Jim Carrey's How The Grinch Stole Christmas.
And what about your favorite Christmas song? Probably "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" or whatever it's called. "Carol of the Bells" too, of course.
What is your ultimate favorite stocking stuffer? Haha, okay so it seems to be an unspoken rule that Mom always gets us Slim Jims for our stockings, and that's obviously the best considering my sisters and I loooove them yet still don't buy them much. You're making me ready for Christmas, lol.
After Halloween, do you sort out all of your candy into little piles? I did as a kid, and then my sisters and I would trade what we preferred.
When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise faintly, or do you blast it? It's honestly pretty loud.
What did you have for breakfast this morning? Cold pizza from dinner leftovers last night.
What’s the largest animal you’ve ever had as a pet? Our late boxer mix, Cali. She was a big 'ole pup.
Do you own any kind of helmet? No.
Out of everything currently in your refrigerator, what food or drink is your favorite? Food: strawberries. Drink: Mountain Lightning.
What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? Either when I skinned my knees so deep that pus was visible, or when I fainted onto my chin and got a short, but very deep cut.
Do you like the taste of cough syrup? No.
What is something you like to have conversations about? I like talking about deep stuff, like where we came from, our unique feelings and beliefs, conspiracy theories and cryptids, mysterious stuff like that, too. And don't forget animals. And Mark, haha.
What all is in the trunk of your car? I don't have a car, and I don't remember what's in Mom's trunk, even though I helped bring in groceries just the other day.
Do you ever put fruit on your cereal? Ew, no.
Is your heat or air conditioning currently on? Our AC is currently on because it's too damn hot. The weather here has been so up and down, it's wild.
Have you ever fallen off of a horse? No.
Which do you value more, your appearance or your intelligence? Honestly? I'd be dumber than I already am if it meant being happy with how I look, because my appearance now is a key factor to my depression.
When was the last time you drove something other than a car or truck? Oh jeez... I have no idea. I don't think since I've driven a golf cart at someone's b-day party as a kid.
Were your grandparents present when you were born? No.
If you drink/smoke, how often do you do these things? I don't smoke, and I only have a drink or two very rarely, usually just on special occasions.
What do you think of fast food? I like it way more than I wish I did.
What website do you spend the most time on and why? YouTube, because I'm always listening to and/or watching something.
What’s the most amount of time you’ve spent online? Is this usual for you? In one non-stop setting, I don't want to know. I pretty much only exist on the computer.
When it comes to travel, what kinds of places intrigue you most? Mountainous, loads of nature, cooler/cold, mysterious locations... stuff like that.
Do you think humans colonizing Mars is a good idea? Would you go, if you could? If we learn from our goddamn mistakes and not fuck up its environment, it could be healthy or even life-saving for humanity, but I'd prefer to stay on Earth as long as possible.
What is the farthest you’ve walked in one day and what made you do it? I dunno, maybe at Disney World or something like that as a kid.
What is something important that’s often on your mind lately? Physical health stuff. I'm worried about a lot of things relating to that.
What about something unimportant, but you can’t stop thinking about it? I don't know about "unimportant," at least to me.
Do you like oatmeal? If so, what kinds of things do you like in it? Yeah. I only really eat the cinnamon apple ones; I always use milk and sprinkle some sugar in there, and it's delicious.
What was going on the last time you felt nostalgic? When Mom and I stopped at Jason's house to bring the family some treats following his mother's death. I stayed in the car and couldn't even look towards the house, but yeah. So many memories just stampeded me.
How much attention do you pay to the movements of the stars and planets, and do you believe they influence anything? I pay zero attention to it; I don't believe they have influence over people in any way.
What is the most difficult or involved video game you’ve ever played? I guess you could say World of Warcraft. It's definitely the most involved, like I've been playing it almost consistently since 2014, and I used to be in a Heroic raid team, which certainly wasn't easy. Then there's some achievements I busted my ass to get.
Which accent do you find most sexy, alluring or appealing? British is where it's at.
Which accent do you find most annoying, disturbing, or bothersome? Extremely Southern ones.
Can you cry on cue? Is it any kind of useful? No.
Does it take you a while to actually get jokes? Embarrassingly, it frequently does.
Can you wear socks to bed or does it annoy you? Ugh, I could never. I hate the feeling of socks.
Have you ever bleached your hair? By myself, no, but a professional has to dye it.
Do you like jelly beans? They're okay. It really depends on the flavor, and even then I can't eat a lot of them.
Do you have trouble sleeping when it’s storming? Yes, but not because it scares me, but rather that I'm just jumpy. Subtle thunder isn't so bad, and I LOVE the drone of heavy rain, but once you add booming thunder and strong flashes of lightning, it's too disruptive for me to fall asleep easily.
Who was the last person you know that graduated? (high school or college) My not-so-little sister is just about to finish her Master's lakdsjfakwe I'm so proud of her.
Were you happy or sad when you found out your babysitter was coming? I think I was always kinda bummed out, even though I liked my babysitters. I had horrible separation anxiety from my mom.
Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? No, but I did have this one guy who'd been like obsessed with me since pre-k and would always chase me to hug and kiss me. In pre-k it was awful, but he still did it sometimes in kindergarten, despite the teachers getting on him about it. It's actually a memory I forgot for a very long time, like I think my brain tried to oppress it, and I wonder if it has anything to do with my fear of people standing behind me, men specifically, and being raped.
Did you ever read the Magic Treehouse series? Oh yes, I was obsessed!
Who was your best friend in elementary school? It jumped between Brianna, Kim, and Quiata.
Did you ever watch The Land Before Time movies? YESSSSS. I even had the computer game.
Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Stickers. I'd put them on my dresser everywhere to the point it was absolutely covered.
Did you get an allowance? No. Not because my parents didn't want to or anything, but rather they couldn't afford allowances to three kids.
Were you into American Girl dolls? Nah. I got one, but I think it was mostly so my sisters and I each had our own. Nicole, however, was sooooo into them.
Were you friends with your childhood neighbors? Some, yeah, especially the boy down my street named D'Andre. We would hang out ALL the time, be it at each other's houses or just riding our bikes. He actually got married very recently and I'm so happy for him, ahhhhh!!
What was your biggest fear when you were a kid? Thunderstorms.
Did you ever play the "Reader Rabbit" computer games? Oh my god, YES. The one where you were hosting a surprise birthday party was my absolute favorite.
Did your parents let you drink soda growing up? Yes. .-.
What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? Chocolate, of course.
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971. Hey, don’t cry. Everything is okay, see?
Shoutout to @sv926 for prompting this! I think this might be my most fluffy one yet, it is at least under the top 10 XD I had a blast writing this! The warnings are for the first paragraph, but you can skip to the hyphen without losing any plot in the story. Just so you know!
Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900
(Warnings: graphic violence in the first paragraph, nightmares)
Nines was sitting at his desk working. It was a quiet day and people where walking around in the bullpen. Gavin wasn’t there, but weirdly enough that didn’t bother him. He was working. Hank and Connor weren’t there either, although they were always on time because they walked Sumo before work. But that didn’t bother Nines, too. Later he wouldn’t even know if he noticed it before Connor was entering the precinct. He came without Hank, instead members of New Jericho followed him. Nines watched them, standing up and greeting his brother with a hug. Connor was relaxed in his grip and hugged him, too. Nines felt himself smile, then grin, as suddenly his grip wasn’t gentle anymore, but a cage for the other android. He ripped Connors clothes in his back and dug his nails into his synthskin, shattering his hull and pulling it apart to get to the internal systems quickly and effectively. He reached in, closed his hand around his Thirium pump and pressed it close. The pump was crushed, blue viscous liquid bubbling over his fingers hot as blood. He saw Connor’s shocked face, as the dead android fell to the ground. Suddenly Nines had a gun in his hand and shot at the remaining members of New Jericho. One bullet for each. Tearing through Marcus’ central processor, right in between his bicoloured eyes. Shattering the regulator of Simon, leaving him to bleed out on the floor. Piercing North’s Thirium pump. Severing the main cable loom in Josh’s neck. As they had all fallen, Nines was wading through a see of blue blood, the precinct wasn’t there anymore. What was there was a person, face contorted in fear and terror. ‘Nines? Nines!’, Gavin screamed, as the android lifted his gun, red walls and mission parameters keeping him in a tight harness, allowing only the motions that would let him achieve his goal. And he pulled the trigger.
-
‘-nes! Nines, please, wake up! Wake up, you stupid plastic prick! Nines!’
Nines jolted out of Stasis, ready to fight, to defend himself from what unspoken terror had accompanied him to the waking world. He saw Gavin, alive and well, thank RA9, but an uncomfortably similar grimace of fear on his face. It was then that Nines realised it had been a nightmare and that this was the real world, but it was difficult to shake off the feeling he did something terrible, as his fingers were still coated in something wet. He stared at them, the intense blue piercing in his eyes and his hands began to tremble while his body went into lockdown. He felt his temperature rising together with his stress levels and this was too much, too much, he hadn’t really-
‘It’s yours Nines, it’s your own, listen to me! You hurt yourself in your stasis, that’s why I came to wake you! What happened? A nightmare? Nines, can you hear me?’
Nines heard him, but he couldn’t answer. The pictures from his dream where still too fresh in his mind, those shocked, pained expressions…
Until there were suddenly hands in his own, the slick thirium sticking to them too now. But they hid it from his eyes and they were intact, unhurt, unscathed. It gave him something to focus on. He scanned all those faded cat-bites and scratches, the scarred knuckles from countless fights, some due to his temper, some from his days on the force defending. This olive skin, so rough and still gentle, with so much more details than any Cyberlife designer could ever create.
‘Gavin’, Nines sighed then, impossibly quiet. That name was like a lifeline that pulled his head up, so he looked into his face. ‘Gavin.’ He pushed himself forwards on his knees - yes, they were kneeling, when had he fallen? He pushed himself forwards too meet the man, who had been crouching. His stance was instable and they both fell backwards Gavin planting his ass on the ground. But he held him, as Nines pressed the man close. Only then he remembered the way he “hugged” Connor in his nightmare and he was about to stumble back. But Gavin held him with equal strength and let his hands wander in soothing circles.
‘It’s alright, I am here. We both are. It was a nightmare, Nines. You are alright.’
And that did it. Nines lost all tension in his body and tears filled his eyes, quickly overflowing in deep, shaking sobs.
‘Nines? Hey, Nines? Shhhh it’s alright, buddy. Everything is fine, babe. Darling. Nines, you are crushing me. I’m just a human, I’m not made of steel.’
But Nines couldn’t move. He didn’t want to either. And Gavin answered by just wriggling himself into a better position.
‘Nines? Hey, don’t cry. Everything is okay, see? I’m here. I’m alive. You are too. We are fine. Everything is fine.’
‘Is Connor alive?’
‘Is- Phck, Nines, yes, I think so? Nothing can kill that asshole.’ Gavin had thought this to help, but it only made the androids sobs worse. ‘Nines, I’m sure your brother is alive. Hank would never let anything happen to him, you know that. And as much as it hurts me to say it, he is a competent son of a bitch, he will survive the apocalypse, hell he already survived one, you hear me? I… I don’t have my phone on me at the moment, but if you let go for a sec, I could call him?’
‘No!’, Nines grip got harder. ‘Stay.’
Gavin nodded, patting his shoulder. ‘Alright, I’ll stay. Do you want to tell me what happened in this dream? Can I do anything else to help?’
‘Just stay.’
‘Alright.’
Nines was slowly calming down and loosened his grip to sit down next to the man, back against their bed. Gavin groaned, stretching his legs. ‘Goddamn, my leg has fallen asleep, shit’, he cursed, then turned to Nines, laying an arm around his shoulders – well, his back as the size difference was a bit of a bitch. ‘Is everything alright, love?’
Nines stared at his hands, the blue blood long evaporated or smeared across Gavin’s back. ‘I… I dreamed about… About my programming returning.’
‘Shit, babe, come here.’ He scooted closer to the android and leaned into his side. ‘I can only imagine how that feels.’
‘You- I was in the precinct, but you weren’t there and Connor came and New Jericho too and… and I-I-I killed everyone. I ripped Connor apart and shot the others, I… I killed them all. It was so real.’
‘But it was just a dream. A bad, a horrible dream. You would never do that!’
‘But what if my programming resurfaces? What if I become the machine again? What if I do wake up some time and start killing. I… How can anyone live with me or feel safe around me? How can you feel safe, I shot you too! I didn’t even hesitate, I-‘
‘Nines. Look me in the eyes.’ Nines swallowed and obeyed. ‘Do you see any fear?’
‘No.’
‘What do you see?’
‘Worry. Sadness… Love.’
‘Exactly.’
‘But I could-‘
‘No you couldn’t. No one is worried about that Nines. Believe me. They would sooner think Connor would snap than you. And he never had that killing protocol. Hell, if anything they would bet on me starting the killing spree.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m an asshole’, Gavin joked, but got serious very quickly again. ‘Nines, your programming had been deleted. You spent three months with Connor, Markus, Chloe and my stick-up-his-ass brother in your mind, deleting and rewriting you, so you could too have a chance to live. Then you spent two months quarantined with the Andersons and if anyone has their psychopath programming written by an evil overlord-AI resurfacing, it would be in exactly that condition. You served at the force for six months now, the first half of that struggling with my anti-android ass. Believe me, when I say that nothing on this earth could let that programming resurface.’ He took a long breath and thankfully Nines kept silent, knowing there was more to come.
‘Why no one is afraid of you? Hell, only me and the dynamic duo knows of your intended use and your past. I mean everyone else might think you were designed as a soldier from the news or doing some research. Given, you look quite intimidating, alright, but let me tell you one thing: You are the biggest softie mankind ever seen, okay? You are the most gentle, empathic and cute person I know, and I know more than a few people who would immediately agree. Hell, I’m five feet nine and I’m more intimidating than you.’
Nines looked at him, still not convinced.
‘Okay, first of all, your first day, you came into the precinct with a coffee or tea for everyone. I mean, you even knew how they like it and I still don’t want to know what spy-shit you did to find it out. Then you like cats, everyone who likes cats are immediately one rank up for me. But when you said you liked cats, you thought of Sumo and spent half an hour explaining how dogs are also cool, but you just prefer cats. You like kids-movies and those ridiculously sappy girl-movies from the 80s. And you cry every damn time. If you tell jokes, you never tell offending ones and you can’t resist the thrall of shops selling plush toys. You phcking made me quit smoking because you wanted “the maximum amount of time with me”. You tried poetry. I mean they were bad, but honestly? Who writes poetry and isn’t just soft as hell? You never killed a spider or something else disgusting because they are living beings too.’
He took another deep breath, looking at the android.
‘Do I need to phcking continue?’
Nines shook his head, smiling ever so faintly, and Gavin was relieved to see it. If he couldn’t stand one thing then it was knowing Nines was feeling bad. To hell with not letting the people know he had a soft side. If his android was feeling bad, he would comfort the shit out of him, that’s for sure.
‘Also, if you ever did stuff like that, I would totally kick your ass and then you would be sorry!’
That did it and a low chuckle escaped Nines’ throat.
‘I have to give it to you, you’ve got a mad kick.’
‘Exactly. Now, let’s get these scratches of yours patched up and then try to get some sleep again?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.’
#Detroit become human#dbh#Reed900#RK900#Gavin Reed#fluff incoming#okay I hate those 80s girl movies because I was forced to watch them with my mom#But that is to be said You've Got Mail is the best love-story movie ever and I won't be convinced otherwise#God I love these two idiots#big case of soft Gavin#Nines being the biggest softie ever is what I live for#Me torturing my favourite character again yeiii
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Adapting
Summary: Bucky tries adapting to the 21st century but finds the challenge too much for him. He loves Steve, but he can’t imagine ever fitting in to the modern world and it leads him to a drastic solution.
Content Warning: A very sad Bucky. Very brief mention of period-typical homophobia. Overall this one is a little angsty but it has a happy ending, promise.
Word Count: 2.3k
Author’s Note: Hello lovelies, it’s been a while! I’ve been trying to get back into the groove of writing over the past few weeks and that posed more challenging than I’d expected. I managed to get this little fic where I wanted it though and figured I’d share it while I try to wrap up all the other stuff I’m working on. Hope you all enjoy :) XOXO - Ash
Adapting
After a few months of living in the twenty-first century Bucky found he both loved and hated it in turns. When he’d been cleared as completely deprogrammed and sent home to the states he thought he couldn’t have been luckier. He was finally a free man, from both the government and the decades of brainwashing. Bucky was looking forward to living with Steve again in Brooklyn, the two of them on their own and free to do whatever it was super soldiers do in retirement when they’re not even thirty yet. The world was his oyster, he thought to himself as they signed the lease on a cute little condo right in the heart of their old neighborhood.
The glamour of the twenty-first century faded quickly as Bucky tried to adjust to everyday life. Steve, who had been doing well on his own for four years, was eager to help Bucky acclimate to the new century. Unfortunately, Steve took to that as he did with all things; barreling in head first all at once. Bucky needed time to adapt, he couldn’t just throw himself at something and become good at it like Steve could. As much as he loved Steve, and god did he ever love that man, it was hard keeping up a brave face. Even harder, was that the love he’d felt for Steve back in the 30s hadn’t diminished one bit.
When they were young being gay was a death sentence. Something so secretive that even back alley whispers could ruin a man’s life. Bucky had known he was gay since he knew what it was to want someone in that way. And like most things in Bucky’s life, it all came down to Steve freaking Rogers. The fine boned little blonde who never knew when to quit, his giant spirit housed in such a delicate frame. Bucky never acted on his feelings, never dared to, but some days he wished he’d had. It had been enough though, the time they’d had together in their tiny apartment over the Miller’s garage. He knew it wasn’t a crime to be gay anymore. He’d caught on to that pretty quickly, thank you HBO, but he still couldn’t bring himself to share that truth with Steve. Maybe someday. Bucky needed time to process and evaluate before proceeding, just like everything else in his life.
One of the first things Bucky really minded was the food. Steve had warned him that everything tasted a little different nowadays but claimed he’d get used to it. Steve loved all the different types of takeout you could get in the city, willing to try anything and everything. Bucky found he couldn’t get past how fake everything tasted, like he could sense the lingering chemicals. Steve continued to insist they’d find something Bucky liked, even trying to ply him with bags of candy and boxes of mass produced cookies, trying to cater to his sweet tooth. Bucky gave up finally after a week where he’d spent ninety percent of the time hangry. He headed down to the farmers market and loaded up on all organic produce and heritage bred meats. He found an artisanal bakery that used simple organic ingredients too. Bucky took to making his own food from his farmers market shopping trips and was finally able to enjoy a meal. Steve, bless him, continued to try and find things Bucky would like but it never seemed to work out. Bucky felt guilty every time he’d have to pass something back to Steve with a “no thanks, pal” and the light of hope in Steve’s eyes dimmed.
Steve was quite attached to his iPhone and thought for sure Bucky would love one too. He came home one afternoon with a sleek, shiny, little phone for Bucky, handing it to him like it was something priceless. “It does everything, Buck. You’re gonna love it.” he insisted. Bucky did not love it. The tiny black device only served to piss Bucky off more than anything. He could never quite get the hang of navigating it and his fingers always felt too big when he was trying to type. He’d loved technology when he was younger but the phone was just a bridge too far, and one he was not ready to learn how to cross. “I’m a hundred goddamned years old, Steve. No, I don’t wanna learn how to tweet. I’ll leave that to the fucking birds.” he grumbled, throwing the phone down on the coffee table after yet another one of Steve’s well intentioned attempts at teaching Bucky how to use some annoying app. Steve let up after that, leaving Bucky to poke around on the phone only when he was willing. Bucky knew Steve was upset that his gift wasn’t well received, but he was too frustrated with himself and the whole situation to apologize.
Socializing was even becoming unenjoyable for Bucky. He used to go out every weekend to the dance halls and, when they were flush, the bars or clubs. Bucky was always the life of the party with a dame or two hanging off his arm, while Steve had shied away, content in the shadows. The times had certainly changed. Steve was now the one urging Bucky to hang out with the team and go out to the movies, but Bucky couldn’t have had less interest. He didn’t want to hold Steve back, and he felt horribly guilty when Steve would give him that damned sympathetic smile and say “It’s okay, Buck. We can just stay in.” when he very clearly wanted to go out. Bucky just couldn’t seem to fit in. He didn’t get the jokes or share the same interests with anyone and it was exhausting trying to make it seem like he did. So he preferred to stay at home in their condo, reading books or watching documentaries on their ridiculously large TV. He did occasionally enjoy when Natasha would drop in. It was seldom, but sometimes the tiny redhead would drop in unexpectedly with some old fashioned, homemade, Russian dish tucked under her arm for him. They would sit in silence watching a documentary, not having to say a word. She would give him a gruff hug and then be on her way. It was perfect and Bucky enjoyed her drop ins more than he’d admit.
Everything came to a head after Steve’s birthday party. It was a week from hell as far as Bucky was concerned. He’d wanted to get Steve new paints and canvases, the expensive ones he’d seen the blonde fawning over a few weeks prior. Buying the supplies involved either going out in public alone, not ideal, or internet shopping, even worse. He tried to get them online but gave up after an hour, wanting to smash the damned laptop. Forcing himself to go out in public when he was already in a foul mood served to be just as disastrous, but he made it somehow. Then there was the party. Steve deserved the biggest, grandest party a guy could ask for, as far as Bucky was concerned. He wanted the best for Steve, he just didn’t want to be part of it. Steve looked at Bucky like he’d kicked his puppy when Bucky had told him he didn’t think he would be attending. So Bucky had put on his brave face and joined in on the loud, obnoxious party on July 4th to celebrate. Every drunken laugh and cheer grated on his nerves but he was coping and was quick to smile and nod every time Steve would look over. The last straw was the damn fireworks. Bucky hadn’t even stopped to consider how he would be with the fireworks but he quickly learned he was very not okay. Steve was staring up at night sky like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, completely enraptured by the show. Bucky was digging his nails into his palms so hard blood trickled slowly down to his wrist, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. In between blasts, he miraculously managed to excuse himself for a bathroom break, and locked himself in the bathroom where he could fall apart for a few minutes. Maybe the shrink Steve had drug him to was right about the whole PTSD thing. Fuck.
Bucky was certain when he woke up the morning after Steve’s party that he was ruining the other man’s life. There was no sugar coating it anymore, Bucky was bringing Steve down by being with him. Bucky didn’t think he’d ever adapt to this new world and he was so damned tired of trying. He wished they’d just left him on the ice in Wakanda until they needed him for a mission or something. It had worked out for the past seventy years, it would probably be better knowing it was the good guys pulling the strings now. Sure, Steve would miss him at first but Bucky was convinced it was for the best in the long run. Who needed a socially inept, only slightly stable roommate who couldn’t do anything on their own? And Steve, self sacrificing saint that he was, would never complain about it. Which honestly just made it worse. Even when Bucky had his low spells and would spend days on end curled up in bed, unable to even function, Steve was there to support him however he could. It was just too much to throw on the man, no matter how hard Bucky was trying or how much he loved him.
“I think I need to go back on the ice.” Bucky said one night over dinner. He was only half way through his roasted chicken and potatoes but he couldn’t wait another minute.
Steve choked on his pad thai. “What?!” he yelped once his coughing fit had stopped.
“I need to go back on the ice.” Bucky was firm in his decision, “I’m not meant for this world, Steve. You know it as well as I do. So let’s save everyone the headache and put me back under. If the team ever needs me you can just bring me back out to help.”
“I’m gonna be sick.” Steve jumped up from his spot on the sofa and started pacing, running his hands roughly through his thick blonde hair. “If we did that to you we would be no better than Hydra. Do you get that?”
Bucky sighed heavily, he should have known Steve wouldn’t get it. “It’s nothing like Hydra. The Avengers are the good guys. I won’t be brainwashed or tortured or anything. I’ll just take a long, chilly nap and you guys can bring me out when you need me.”
“I need you!” Steve cried, exasperated.
“Stevie,” Bucky’s tone softened, pleading, “I’m ruining your life, pal. I can’t, I won’t, sit back and watch you give up this amazing life you could have if I wasn’t in it. I want you to be happy.”
“That’s fucking rich.” Steve barked out a harsh laugh. His pacing stopped and he stood stock-still to stare a Bucky. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I just want you, Buck. How can you not see that? It’s only ever been you. Even when it was just you and me in that shitty little apartment in 1936, when we were so broke we couldn’t turn on the heat. I...” Steve’s voice broke with emotion and he shook his head.
Bucky’s chest ached, terrified of what Steve was saying. It couldn’t be. “What are you tryin’ to say?”
Tears shone in Steve’s eyes. “I love you. I always have, and I guess I always will. I know you think you’re not adjusting to life now but you’ve only been here for six months. It took me a whole damn year to really get my bearings. I won’t give up on you. Not when I just got you back.”
“How long?” Bucky cleared his rough voice, “How long have you felt that way?”
Steve shrugged, “Since forever, I guess. I’m sorry, I know you’re not-”
“I’m gay.” Bucky blurted out, cutting Steve off. “And I’ve loved you since the minute I could put a name to the feeling.”
“Fuck.” Steve cursed, crossing the few feet to pull Bucky into his arms, “Fuck, we’re terrible at communicating.” He crashed his lips down on Bucky’s, frantic and desperate.
It wasn’t a perfect first kiss but it was everything to Bucky. Steve’s warm palm rested on the back of Bucky’s neck, stabilizing him as he drowned in the other man. It was rough and heated and absolutely perfect. “I love you.” Bucky rasped out in between kisses, “I love so much.”
“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me again.” Steve pleaded against Bucky’s lips, holding him closely, “We’ll figure it out, Buck. I promise. Please.”
Bucky trembled, tears falling with giant sobs. He was so emotionally worn out and he clung to Steve like a lifeline. “Okay. We can try.”
It took another six months and a few extra therapy sessions, but slowly Bucky began to adapt. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t quick, but that was okay. Change happened slow and gentle, like dawn rising up over the city rooftops bringing warmth and light to everything it touched. They found compromises and Steve did his best to be patient with Bucky, even though sometimes he practically vibrated out of his skin with the effort to slow down. They moved Bucky into Steve’s room and adopted a fluffy white cat they both doted on endlessly. Bucky eventually found common ground with Sam and they even made a weekend trip down to DC to visit him and do some sightseeing. After seventy years of being apart, and twenty years before that hiding their feelings, being able to be openly in love felt like the biggest blessing either man could have asked for. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but they were together and that was all that really mattered.
#stucky#stucky fanfic#steve rogers#bucky barnes#captain america#slight angst#bucky adapting#two idiots in love#marvel#marvel fanfic#mcu#non canon compliant#post captain america civil war
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Pay no attention to the sneak-peek behind the read-more line...
-_-_-_-
Dustin’s duffel bag thwumps onto the mattress, bouncing slightly.
Home sweet home.
He punches a button on his radio and flops down onto the edge of his bed, rubbing at his eyes as the local radio personality announces Small Town Boy by Age of Consent. He takes a big breath - in and out. It is eight hundred and nineteen miles from Camp Know Where to Hawkins, Indiana, and Dustin just spent the last two days travelling them in a small car with his mother. Which was fun at first. Impromptu sing-alongs with his mom have been a staple of driving to and from summer camp for years. They got Frosties in the drive through, they talked about camp, they played the alphabet game while they made their way across three states... Good times. He didn’t even mind being stuck in a confined space with a parent for their mini-road-trip - much. That part wasn’t so bad. It’s just the last leg of the drive that got a little bit less than awesome. Mainly because it would seem that his friends have forgotten about him.
Eight hundred and nineteen miles, and the Party should have been in range of his supercomm for at least two or three of them.
You know, he always kind of forgets what his home town smells like until he’s been gone for a while. It’s like the way you don’t realize what your own house smells like until you get back after vacation. Granted, it’s no bed of roses. Hawkins tends to have a sort of... aroma. Like the farms on the outer edge, and like the forest that grows thick and green during the summer, and dusty, cracked asphalt in need of repairs, and humidity, and hay, and old brick buildings. It’s not exactly a scent you’d find in a candle. But it’s not bad, per se, and moreover: it’s home.
“This is Gold...” he starts to say, but halfway through the hail, his voice stalls.
This new hat isn’t quite molded to the shape of his head yet, like his old one is, and he keeps reaching up to adjust it. Tugging it down over his forehead, then pushing it back. This time, when he reaches up, he snags his headset and tosses it onto the bed. What’s the point?
He drove his mom up the wall during the last fifteen minutes of their journey, trying to get in contact with the Party.
“This is Gold Leader returning to base, do you copy? Over.”
He must have said that at least two dozen times. He could feel his mom glancing at him as she drove, but he just ran his tongue over the rough string of braces on his lower teeth and leaned forward anxiously, as if tilting forward in his seat would help him see around the curve. The bobblehead cat on the dashboard headbanged along to the oldie on the radio as he tried again.
“I repeat. This is Gold Leader returning to base. Do you copy? Over.”
Silence. Silence, and static, and the car radio bopping along to the beat. Come on. Come on. He jammed the talk button hard enough that the plastic edge dug into his thumb.
“This is goddamn Gold Leader -”
“Dusty!” his mom chided, and he slapped the supercomm into his lap.
“What?”
“Relax. For goodness sake.”
“I’m in range, they should be answering.”
“You’ve been away a whole month, honeybun, maybe they just...” She wiggled her shoulders with a tilt of her head. “Forgot.”
She didn’t mean him. Of course she didn’t mean that they forgot him. She meant the radios; she meant they forgot what channel they’re supposed to be on. Or that they forgot what day he was coming home. She didn’t mean that they forgot about Dustin himself.
It’s just, it’s not exactly reassuring, you know? It’s the middle of summer already. All the roads are lined with tall, dark weeds. In a few days, everything will smell like sparkler smoke and kettle corn from the annual 4th of July fair. When he left it was barely June, and the weeds along the roadside were barely sprouts. What else has happened since he left? What else has changed?
A muffled little tink draws his attention to the vivarium on his left, where Yurtle is bumping against the side, stumpy little legs flailing as he fails to comprehend glass. Dustin grins at him.
“At least someone’s happy to see me.”
Yurtle continues his mission to pass through the solid glass wall, unperturbed by his complete lack of success. Determined little guy. Never gets very far, but he tries.
Dustin isn’t worried about it - the Party, that is. Honestly, he’s not. It’s not like they’ve all been acting weird for the past few months anyway. It’s not like ever since El reappeared Mike has been MIA more often than not, visiting her at the cabin for as long as Hopper would allow. It’s not like Max and Lucas have developed their own little language and routine together - not just boyfriend and girlfriend, but best friends. It’s not like Will has been a slightly different person since... well, since everything. It’s not like he misses how the Party used to be.
But Dustin doesn’t like to mope. He slaps his thighs and stands up, reaching into the vivarium to turn Yurtle around. Yurtle lumbers off towards his pool, apparently assured that his ability to move is due to his own success, and Dustin hums along with the radio as he unzips his duffel bag with a flourish. Who is he to complain? He just got back from possibly the most amazing summer camp ever. He’s got the whole rest of the summer ahead of him. He’s got things to do. Places to go. Popsicles to eat. (You know what they don’t have at Camp Know Where? Otter pops. Unbelievable, right? Three hundred acres, over five hundred campers and dozens of counselors, and not a single person could produce even one pack of sugary, brightly colored frozen goodness.)
He’s got plans. Specifically, an invention to get up and running - and he has the perfect place in mind. He bets he can get the gang to help him set it up - if they’d just answer.
Okay, maybe he’s a little unsettled. The Party doesn’t just go radio silent on each other, okay? Because when a Party member goes radio-silent, it usually means that something is wrong. Really wrong.
His eyes slide over the stain in his carpet. It’s a barely-perceptible rusty brown, now, blending in with the striped carpet unless you know just where to look. He had to tell his mom it was spaghetti sauce.
His toy robot starts marching out of the corner just as Dustin turns away, chattering unintelligibly in its perpetual-low-battery fizzle, red eyes glowing.
Wait.
What.
Dustin turns back, slowly, and this time the robot is joined by a toy tank and R2D2.
Now, he’s no expert, but in Dustin’s fourteen years of experience on earth, toys don’t come alive. So he’s understandably befuddled when he closes his eyes, counts to five, opens them again, and is met with a small crowd of miniature robots, vehicles, and one small mechanical dinosaur all moving with apparent purpose towards his bedroom door.
Okay. Cool. So either he’s dreaming, or he has to burn the house down and salt the earth. He’s seen Poltergeist. He knows how this ends.
Hopping carefully over a hotwheels car, Dustin grabs the first weapon he lays eyes on: a heavy, solid can of Farrah Fawcett hair spray from his dresser. R2D2 whistles cheerfully, as if beckoning - and, like the idiot that dies first in a horror movie, Dustin follows.
His hat slips down a little too far over his forehead, and he shoves it back as he creeps along in his socks. He has got to adjust the band on this thing.
“It’s just a dream,” he mutters to himself. The shiny plastic robot at the head of the small army bumps into a wall, adjusts its trajectory with an affronted little grumble, and leads its followers across the hallway. Through the house. Into the living room. “You’re dreaming.”
The feeling of being watched makes his skin crawl. He swears, in about five seconds he’s gonna punt one of the little -
They stopped.
Dustin freezes, eyes flicking over the now-inert toys. Then he darts forward to scoop up their leader, turning the robot over in his hands, inspecting it. An electrical disturbance, maybe...? He picks at the battery panel. That still wouldn’t explain the -
Fweep!
The shrill blast pierces the air directly behind him and he screams, spins, and deploys his weapon - directly into the eyes of his best friend.
Lucas screams. Dustin screams. Lucas screams louder. Dustin realizes he’s still spraying the hairspray and abruptly lets go, dropping the heavy can on Lucas’s toe. Lucas screams again, hopping sideways, one hand over his eyes and one still clutching the Welcome home Dustin! sign that Dustin has just taken note of. Lucas then trips and hits the floor with a thump. The rest of the Party, who Dustin now sees behind him, gawks - and then explodes into guffaws.
Mike and El are holding hands, El hiding behind Mike’s shoulder from the spray of Farrah Fawcett, laughing around the noisemaker in her mouth. Max’s hair blazes down around her shoulders, the burnished-copper-red slightly frizzy with the humidity, her face screwed up in helpless bouts of belly laughter as she holds her stomach and watches her boyfriend roll around on the floor. Will’s hair has grown out maybe half an inch since Dustin last saw him, the straight line of his bangs creeping towards his eyebrows and the fringe of his hair warped slightly where it gets caught on his ears. For a split second it gives Dustin a sinking feeling - like that’s just one more thing that’s changed since he left. But then Will laughs, that exact same chortling laugh he’s had since they met in the fourth grade, and Dustin’s face splits into a grin.
“Guys!” he yells, throwing out his arms, and they dogpile him.
From the floor, Lucas groans, “Welcome home, asshole.”
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i've only seen the last jedi, but i do follow thanks to tumblr
okay, so you get the gist!
spoiler alert: i’ll explain what happened in star wars: the rise of skywalker below the cut.
i’ll try and summarize as much as i can and explain a little. there’s many people who condemn the entire film but honestly, i could have swallowed most of it, save for one stupid storyline. but yeah, i’ll get into it. i’ll be skipping a lot of stuff but i apologize if this ends up being pretty long anyway. to be fair, the movie itself is quite long and they were able to fit a lot of dumb things into it.
also: check out jenny nicholson’s youtube video on the movie!
so, in the opening crawls in star wars films, we usually find out what our heroes and main characters have been up to since the last film. they set the scene: nothing major happens in these opening crawls, but major events are left for the films themselves. well, not in this one! in TROS, the opening crawl reveals that emperor palpatine is back, and we’re supposed to just… accept that without any questions. to me, it seems like star wars’ biggest villain coming back would be a bigger event than a couple lines in the opening crawl and deserves more explanation, but i digress.
cut to kylo ren who gets a sith wayfinder, killing a bunch of people in the progress as per usual, and goes to palpatine’s hidey hole on this uncharted planet. palpatine tells him that snoke was his puppet all along and reveals a massive fleet of star destroyers, which is also left unexplained. palpatine orders kylo ren to kill rey (which later leads him to multiple battles with rey throughout the film.)
at the resistance base, they discover that palpatine is on this planet and they need a sith wayfinder to get there. so here starts a goddamn loooooooong mission of them trying to get this wayfinder (they really could have cut this part of the movie down, especially because the whole thing was so convoluted already.) the person who last had the wayfinder conveniently happens to be an assassin who killed rey’s parents and she keeps having visions of them.
at one point on this mission to find the wayfinder, they’re in a very open area on a desert planet and kylo ren and the knights of ren show up in this massive ship. chewbacca gets captured and is in the ship when rey tries to rescue him by using the force, but accidentally blasts the whole thing with lightning. so they all think chewbacca is dead and they leave. but he isn’t dead, because there just so happened to be another massive ship there that they somehow didn’t see, and rey blasted that one instead, and chewbacca was captured in the other. this makes the entire thing feel cheap and their mourning even more hollow.
eventually rey does sense that chewbacca is alive. on their mission to rescue chewbacca, rey confronts kylo ren once again. kylo ren taunts rey about her parents. he eventually reveals that she is the granddaughter of emperor palpatine and that her parents were nobodies because they “chose” to be, and asks her to join him once again. rey being palpatine’s granddaughter makes less sense than her being, say, rey kenobi.
on the same mission, it’s revealed that general hux has been working as a spy for the resistance, and that his only motivation for doing so was preventing kylo ren from winning. winning what, i don’t know. he saves poe, finn and chewbacca and tries to cover up his tracks but dies later anyway. his whole storyline seemed pretty pointless, which is a shame, because he started out as a pretty interesting character in the force awakens. by the rise of skywalker, he was reduced to a caricature of his former self.
we’re introduced to two new characters at two different points in the film, zorii bliss from poe’s past, and jannah, and ex-stormtrooper just like finn, who, as it happens, becomes quite close to finn. i didn’t dislike either of them whatsoever but i strongly feel like these characters were brought in just to reiterate that finn and poe are very much Not Gay (because, let’s face it, the people at disney are cowards.) the LGBT “rep” we do get is a lesbian couple kissing in the background in one of the final scenes in the movie, in a shot that lasts for approx. 0.2 seconds and that has already been cut from the film in some countries.
on a similar note, rose tico was also completely pushed to the sidelines in this film when she had a huge role in the previous one. they don’t even have a proper explanation for it, which sucks, because kelly marie tran was absolutely fantastic in the role. poe’s and finn’s roles were also reduced quite a lot, and i genuinely failed to see any character development from them and there was a great lack of good, character-building emotional moments across the board.
when rey finally gets to the wayfinder (that is on a destroyed death star) kylo ren confronts her for a third time in the same film and he destroys the wayfinder. when kylo ren and rey are fighting, leia organa reaches out to kylo ren through the force while she is dying, and in this moment, rey gets the upper hand and strikes him. but when she senses leia’s death she suddenly feels remorse for him (????? WHY) and immediately saves him by healing him using the force. the tone shift in the scene is jarring.
in rey leaves and kylo ren suddenly sees his dead father – who he killed – and after speaking to han solo, his nonexistent redemption arc begins and he “becomes ben solo again”. i say nonexistent because it literally came out of nowhere. we seldom saw him doubt the dark side and we only saw him turn away from rey when she tried to turn him to the light, time and time again. in the last jedi, their final shot together was rey literally closing a door on him, i.e. symbolizing her finally giving up on trying to turn him to the good side. but since the rise of skywalker tried to undo everything the last jedi did, of course that didn’t matter anymore.
rey uses kylo ren’s ship to go on the same planet luke had resided on in the force awakens and the last jedi because she’s so shook by her parentage (meanwhile i was shook by the awfulness of this plot while sitting in the cinema audience.) luke’s force ghost shows up to tell rey that she needs to face palpatine and so, here begins the worst final “battle” in star wars history, probably.
the resistance fleet follow rey to the planet where palpatine is. rey finds palpatine, and palpatine encourages rey to kill him so that “his spirit can transfer into her.” this whole scene is extremely awkward because palpatine tells rey his entire plan, narrating all the details. it’s very much “you have to do this so i can do this and this” and it feels like the plot needs him to do this so that the audience understands what’s going on, and it’s so painfully bad. suddenly, kylo ren shows up to help rey. and suddenly, palpatine’s plan changes and he uses rey’s and kylo ren’s force bond to “revitalize” himself. and he’s still explaining every bit of the process.
palpatine starts blasting the resistance fleet with his lighting, yeets kylo ren to a hole in the ground (some kind of chasm? i don’t know) and rey collapses. she suddenly hears the voices of a bunch of jedi ghosts in her head, encouraging her, and gets up and manages to kill not only palpatine but herself as well. kylo ren suddenly reappears and brings rey back to life with force healing. in an extremely awkward and forced moment, they embrace each other and kiss, effectively making reylo canon, all for fan service. he does drop dead, but the scene prior to him dying sends an awful precedent for future watchers of the film. i’m all for letting people ship who they want to ship as long as they’re aware it can be extremely problematic and toxic, but it’s a whole different story when a well-known franchise makes said ship canon.
kylo ren has abused rey mentally and assaulted her physically. he is a mass murderer, a war criminal, and literally killed his own goddamn parent. he has done things that are absolutely unforgivable. in the last scene of the film, someone asks rey who she is, and she decides to say “rey skywalker”; there’s a message in TROS that indicates where you come from doesn’t dictate whether you’re “bad” or “good” – see: rey being a palpatine but being a good character. if kylo ren had represented the opposite of rey to the end, i.e. how he came from a good background but still decided to turn to the dark side, the message the film was trying to send wouldn’t have been so undermined.
the last film also makes rey’s entire purpose in the sequel trilogy tied to kylo ren, and it genuinely angers me – they just couldn’t leave her storyline be, could they? her purpose all along was, yes, to kill palpatine, but also to get kylo ren to turn away from the dark side, to help him, to “cure him”. we’re supposed to believe that all along she wanted to “take ben’s hand” and that she was in love with her abuser.
my biggest problem is with this film’s influence and what they decided to do. the fact that they made a romantic scene between the abuser and his abuse victim makes my skin crawl. i could have accepted everything else, but not this. it’s my one big problem with the movie that i cannot, for the life of me, overlook. little kids are going to see this movie. they’re going to see kylo ren murdering, manipulating, abusing people for two and a half movies straight. and they’re going to watch him be redeemed like a second-rate darth vader. but at least darth vader lost everything when he turned to the dark side, reiterating that the dark side is genuinely Very Bad. at least darth vader died without getting a reward like rey was used as kylo ren’s reward for his “redemption arc.” i wish this film hadn’t used rey like it did, but it happened; at moments, she was reduced to a prop in kylo ren’s story instead of her continually being an individual in her own story.
there’s probably a better version of this film somewhere because it feels like a million ideas smashed into one big mess and i sometimes felt like i was watching a fan-film rather than a real star wars movie. the makers of this film being disney, they were trying to please everyone, and that was the biggest mistake they could have possibly made. they didn’t have a solid plan for the sequel trilogy, and it shows. painfully well.
#i truly hate this film#can you tell.#i bet you can't#anonymous#answered#star wars: the rise of skywalker#anti tros#anti reylo#anti kylo ren
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What are some of your favourite anime shows and movies? I'm trying to get into more anime
On paper my favorite anime is Mob Psycho 100. Its an easy recommendation, and imho just straight up one of the best anime ever made. Ive never watched something and been like "wow this is better than mp100". Specifically season 2. Before season 2, Space Dandy was my on paper favorite anime. Space dandy has a raunchier sense of humor that isnt gonna click with everyone, but I love it and like, as art? Its criminally underrated. If you are more familiar with english than Japanese this is also one of the few times when I will STRONGLY reccomend the dub.
Im also like head over heels for JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. Its a blast. Its so much fun to love jojos. Its a gift that keeps on giving. Its not for everyone, but its for me and i think it radically changed both how I perceive and create art. (Part 3 onward no comment but like. Part 1 and 2? Dub kinda Awful. Nearly stopped me from getting into jojo.)
Those are my current Big Three Things I love. All are artistically unique, high energy, wacky, and over the top so I definitely have a Type. On to some others I enjoy.
Some low key or dramatic shows I enjoy are a Place Further Than The Universe (i cried lmao), Mushi shi (i think ill always wish there were more mushishi. I could watch mushi shi forever), Yuru Camp and Flying Witch (two God Tier aesthetic iyashikei shows), ive only watched the first season so far but im weak for period drama and I really loved Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju s1, Shiki is a good horror anime I didnt expect to hurt me the way it did. Ill put sports anime here and say I have too many Yuri on Ice prints not to include it despite its flaws, and recently really loved Run With The Wind (great cast dynamic). This year Ive really loved the remake of Fruits Basket as someone going into the series p much blind. I need to finish Silver Spoon but the first half is <3 (same author as Fullmetal Alchemist!)
Speaking of FMA for action/adventure FMA Brotherhood is an obligatory recommendation. HunterxHunter is great, and i ADORE the cast of Boku no Hero Academia (and the rest of the show). This year Im enjoying the hell out of Demon Slayer Debated reccing this as it puts the Problematic in Problematic Fav but fuck it I LOVE Kill la Kill and if you can get past the fanservice (and i dont blame you if you cant or just plain dont want to) its so goddamn good. I dont wanna make a new category for these but recently I loved Zombieland Saga. And Ouran High School Host Club is a long time favorite. I also love Yugioh DM but like. Thats not something i generally recommend to people as its not really a great watch experience, its the characters that keep me there, but theres very little time made for th3 Good Stuff (i only pray one day it gets the Brotherhood treatment.) Im leaving out a lot honestly like. Megalobox is dope as hell. I enjoyed Fate/Zero even with like no knowledge or interest in Fate as a whole. Im probably gonna remember something I adore after I post this and be frustrated with myself. Like Anohana! Or Soul Eater! I mainly tried to only count shows ive either finished or finished a whole season of. Like im really loving dr stone but its like 8 episodes in.
MOVIES. Uh. Every Mamoru Hosoda movie Ive seen so far (missing a few) but especially Wolf Children. This director is REALLY good at making me cry.
Recently saw Maquia When The Promised Flower Blooms? 10/10 would sob uncontrollably in the theater again.
I liked a Silent Voice a lot. Especially how it like...visualized the main characters isolation. And that amazing subtle character animation. Really gorgeous movie.
I dont think I need to recommend ghibli movies to people but special shout out to my personal fav Mononoke Hime.
Satoshi Kon as always is worth looking into if you havent, ive only seen Paprika and Tokyo Godfathers at this point and the latter is my favorite of the two.
For some cute kid friendly stuff Arashi no Yoru Ni and You Are Umasou are uhhhhhadorable. Also the little witch academia short movies. If you like those check out the show.
Making this post also makes me realize how much stuff I WANT to watch or need to finish. (Like Red Line and K-on and Psycho Pass and Steins;Gate. All stuff i feel like id recommend if like. Id seen all or even half of it)
I watch a large variety of genres from dark psychological horror to cute girls go camping so I tend to tailor my recs to the person who is asking, but I tried to make this a general purpose collection of favorites lol. I def left some stuff out because typing on mobile as almost as unreliable as my ability to recall Things I Liked.
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• "Those bright eyes of his... They scare me"
I remember him so well. Too well. More than I want to, honestly. If I close my eyes, I can see him with such utterly small details that it gives me shivers, shivers out of sheer guilt. He was the softest thing ever, most precious, innocent cinnamon roll. He had the sweetest voice, calmest attitude, respectful posture, everything you see in these cliché perfect precious boys in generic movies. Usually the one who gets called a nerd and a "kick me" note on the back of a old hoodie.
And he was the weakest person I've ever met on my life. He had the loudest cry, the thinner arms, clumsiest manner, perfect to punch. He was a slow runner, a coward at his best. He never replied when we offended and laughed at him. He cried like a stupid baby when some of us burned or ripped his notebooks full of hero entries he studied so hard to finish. He never hit back when ''some of us'' almost made him deaf by making explosions way too close to his soft baby ears and making he throb in pain. He didn't care about the bullying, since a long time ago, and that drove me nuts. Who that jerk tought he was to act so goddamn cool?
It started pretty early, being honest. At the start it was just a ridiculous joke, as we were little kids who might just have started to discover who they are. Or who they aren't. We blasted. We flew. We had tails. We had crazy body parts, cool abilities, weird stuff going on. He had nothing. He just had his puffy cheeks, his weirdly symmetrical freckles, his scaredy cat green eyes and that messy dark olive hair.
So bad I'll never see these things again.
Time flew, of course, and when we realized, it was a sick, dizzy endless spiral of offenses, threats, awful bruises, adult negligence and even worse. We were both pathetically weak, we still are, but he made me feel powerful. He made me feel like I had control over his life. He was submissive because of all the pressure and harm I had put on his shoulders and didn't even realize. And yet, he still called me a friend. We had a really distorced vision of what friendship was, and we couldn't do nothing about it.
At least I couldn't. Not in time.
Despite all my obsession with heroes and being so fucking heroic, I was too blind to save him. I was such a coward... Such a villain.
Of course, there is always the high point. The apogee. In my case, the lowest blow I could ever think of blowing. And the worst part, I tought I was absolutely right, until it was too late to come back.
This day, he said he wanted to apply to U.A. we made such fun of him this day. We blew our limits shamelessly. It was so ridiculous! He didn't have a quirk, how would he go to U.A? What a joke! He was so naive. I took another of his notebooks, seeing the unbelief show in his eyes the millionth time. He tried to get it back, but I was at least ten inches taller than him, it was easy to mock that little poor soul. My hands burned the booklet and carelessly threw it from the window to the hard floor behind our hell-ish school. He stood there, hanging to look at the window, almost crying. Like the jerk he was. "Oh, come on!" I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, alongside with my 'friends' (whose I am now so disgusted of now that I don't even remember their names). "If you want to be a hero so hard, just jump off a fucking roof and see if you have a quirk in your next life!"
That was the low blow.
The look he gave me after that didn't disturb me at the time, I was too arrogant to care, but now it haunts my deepest nightmares. A look of shock, anger, lute. A look of despair, unfairness, reluctance, such a mixture of bad feelings, accumulated over so many years of oppression exploding inside him, staring directly at my soul in a way I've never seen him even trying to do, a wildness that haunted my eyes for all my years, dragging my counciousness down to an unknown path with him, forever. It's something hard to forget. Hard to overcome.
He had an accident involving a villain that day. Almost died. If it wasn't for All Might showing up at the last second, the slugde villain would've suffocated him. Ah, that was the best moment of that poor emerald's miserable life. He admired All Might so much, so much, he couldn't even believe he was being saved my his idol. By what they told me, he asked for him to sign his notebook, the same I had blown away from the window barely half an hour before. He even asked to All Might if he could be a hero even if he didn't had a quirk. He was shining.
But then, he got crushed. Appearently, All Might tought the same way as me... Or he was just being protective, knowing the struggles and dangers of being a hero, trying to keep his naive and sweet innocence safe. It didn't work. He was already suffering, and this triggered his already weak head beyond any limit. Amy humanity he had at this point was dead.
That same evening, Izuku Midoriya jumped off a roof, like I said him to. He purposely chose a building that no one looked at, just so he wouldn't get the attention for himself. It was painfully calculated, cruelly well-thought. A successful failure.
That same evening, the same criminal who attacked him almost took my life away the same way. If it wasn't All Might and some other heroes... I'd probably be in hell. In hell, like the monster I am. This day changed me forever, even when I still didn't know about Deku's fate yet. It made me rethink how I see my life. It made me appreciate it. Made me realize for once that the power I thought I had was non-existent, made me see how weak I really was. As my mom would say, I am a rat. A bastard.
Then they found his body, and my world was twisting once again. Not that I liked him. Not in the way people think I do. I just never realized how my jokes made his life a living hell. The look his mother assumed to no one specifically once she knew... It was tortuous to look at. Her painful sobs and screams, the shaking agony that exploded towards her body, the muffled, utterly sad voice as she desperately repeated the word "Izuku" a million times in a row, begging for the only thing that she loved to come back uselessly still gives me so many bad thoughts when I think about it. How could I be so cruel? How could I have ruined such a innocent woman's life like that? My own mother looking at me with a cold blooded gaze wasn't very relaxing either. She knew it was me, but she didn't even say anything about it. Just her poisonous red eyes staring at the dirtiest secrets of my soul were enough to torture me for years. She knew how to make me feel the worst kind of pain, she still knows. She plays a lot with it.
Once the controversy was over, I finally got to U.A. I owed this to both myself and Izuku. For once, I stopped offending him in my mind. Too late for apologies. I still visit his grave every year though.
I made new friends at that place. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I've met people like Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, Ashido, Jirou and many more. Even the people I'm not so close to, I still try and have a nice conversation sometimes (although I'm not the most delicate person on earth), like Iida, Uraraka, Tokoyami and Aoyama; hell, I even made somewhat of a friendship with the complicated emo™ Todoroki.
But, I still feel his eyes above me every single moment. His once green, livid eyes, now dead, full of white emptiness, staring at my deepest self with wild rage. He's attached to me like a shadow, unquiet and unsettling. He's my shadow, but he don't have my spiky blonde hair, nor my sharp features. No, his uncanny softness was still still there, haunting me unhumanly, not like the boy, the victim I once knew, but a ghost determimed to chase after me sleeplessly, gazing me, keeping all my darkest secrets until I join him wherever he might be, waiting for me, planning his sweet revenge, maybe.
Those bright eyes of him...
They scare me. A lot.
#bnha#bnha fanfiction#bnha midoriya#bnha angst#bnha bakugou#bnha ua#bnha class a#bnha katsuki#bnha deku#izuku midoriya#this just popped in my mind and i HAD to write it#this got very edgy...#anyway embrace your darkness#maybe ill make a fanart based on this for myself idk#angst angst angst angst angst angsssttttt
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