#WICKED MOVIE NEXT MONTH!!!! ITS ALMOST HER TIME!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

waywardstraysau · 2 years ago

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Their first class of the day was a basic, introductory lesson about the school itself, how it operated and the vocabulary they were likely to hear. Ford was excitedly waiting for them, with a massive smartboard behind him and some notes already written on it. He greeted them brightly, and gestured for them to sit at any of the half dozen desks in the small classroom. He explained that while this had been intended to be a formalized class for the entire student body, it eventually had to be cut down due to how little they actually knew. Now it was only held maybe once a month to inform the students of any new discoveries or breakthroughs regarding other worlds and traveling to them. The field was in its infancy, they had many more theories than actual facts.

Hunter was staring at the smartboard before them, his eyes wide at the strange device, Luz meanwhile was impressed the school had one at all. She had heard of more well off schools using them and even seen a few being sold online, but this was her first time seeing one in real life. King had taken a break from trying to lift every small nearby object with his new psychic spikes and leaned in to pay attention. “Now, this is a crash course lesson,” Ford explained, “There’s a few basic facts that you need to know that’ll make things easier while you’re here.” “Like… rules?” Hunter asked, the tiniest bit of enthusiasm in his voice. “Well, those too, but the main thing you’re going to learn is some of the terminology we use here in regards to the various worlds we’ve discovered. It’s mostly category titles to simplify things when we talk about them, as well as a few others you’ll need to know.” The teenage boy scowled but Luz leaned in, curious as to where this was going. “The first one is the easiest and most straightforward: “Door”.” “...I’m sorry, ''Door”? Is that what you said?” Luz questioned, her face slightly scrunched up. “Yes, it’s an umbrella term for all the ways in and out of the other worlds. The students have more specific names for them like “Ghost Portal” or “Little Door” and so on, but they just lead to one specific world and that’s it. Using “Doors” to cover it all helps keep things a bit easier in the long run.” “Huh… that… actually makes sense. Are they all door-shaped, the one Eda used to travel back and forth between the Boiling Isles and the Human Realm literally was one.” “Oh no, those actually are quite rare. Most look like swirling vortexes, some look like glowing magic water, so forth and so on, you get the jist.” Ford was happy to see the three of them were now leaning in, Hunter’s eyes were wide and shining, Luz was taking notes in her phone and King’s tail was wagging, almost like he was listening to a good story. “Now, the next term is “the Great Compass” though the Compass itself doesn’t come up too often. It’s the four, quote unquote, “directions” that are important.” He pointed to a drawing of a basic graph. “When I first started my research into other worlds, I found they landed somewhere within four “directions” as it were. However, as my understanding grew, I came to the realization that it had nothing to do with actual coordinates and that it was more a set of rules or patterns that the worlds would follow. As such, I chose to keep the terms to keep the understanding simple, even if they aren’t exactly accurate. Follow so far?” They nodded. “Good. Now, the four directions are Nonsense, Logic, Virtue, and Wicked and they’re exactly what they sound like. Nonsense worlds tend to work within their own sets of rules, for example, Luz, have you ever seen the Wizard of Oz?” “Of course I have,” she nodded, “I mean, it’s been a while but I have seen it.” “That is a perfect example of a Nonsense world. Logic worlds meanwhile are more based in scientific reasoning, like… think of black and white horror movies, Dracula, Franknstien, the Wolfman, their science may not work here but those worlds rely on it all the same.” “...okay, I see what you mean,” she rubbed her chin, and the gears in her mind were spinning. “...I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hunter droned, looking utterly deadpan. “Yeah, I think we’re missing something here!” King snapped. “Don’t worry guys, I’ll show you those movies later,” she offered with a warm smile. “Thank you Luz, that will be a big help,” Ford smiled, “Now, the last two, Virtue and Wicked, can be a bit misleading. It doesn’t mean that the worlds are inherently bad or good, but more like a utopia vs an apocalypse. From the ones we’ve been able to properly explore and document, there tends to be a pattern of Nonsense and Virtue overlapping regularly, while Logic and Wicked do the same. However there are always exceptions to the rules. You all met Coraline yesterday, the world she went to was Average Nonsense and Very High Wicked, to the point she’s lucky to have escaped with her life.” “...it was that bad?” there was a twinge of worry in Luz’s voice. “Yes. If you want, you can ask her yourself.” “Follow up question!” Hunter said quickly, “Is the threat from that world able to come here?” “Oh no, the actions she took following her little adventure ensured no one would ever be able to enter that world again. Oh, and while we’re at it, it’s common courtesy here not to tell new students about someone else’s world unless they've given their express permission. Personal business and so on.” “That makes sense,” Luz said softly, and began to consider if she’d do the same, “Is there anything else?”

“There are a few more things, yes. There are some lesser directions on the compass, ones that can appear, but don’t always. The four I listed are constants and every world falls somewhere between them. These lesser directions include Whimsy, Rhyme, Linearity, Reason and a few we have yet to name. Now, the last big bit of information is Vitus vs Mortis.” “What and what now?!” “Oh this is a fascinating one! Whether or not the residents are among the living or the dead! It also relates to if the world and/or land itself has something significant to do with the dead!” The teenagers paused and looked at each other, now both of their brains were buzzing with ideas from this information.

“That leads me to this next question,” Ford said with a smile, “If you had to decide, where on the Compass would you kids place the Boiling Isles?”

“Wait, you’ve been there,” Hunter explained, “Shouldn’t you already know that?”

“I was only there for a short time, my boy,” he sighed, “And it was long before I came up with this system. As such, I can’t trust my own experience to be accurate, plus it helps to get our students’ opinions on it. They may have experienced something or seen things in a perspective we might not have considered. Let’s start with uh… King! King, what are your thoughts?”

“I ‘unno,” the young demon shrugged, “It’s all I ever knew, I never thought about this kinda stuff before. It just was what it was, ya know?”

“I see. Luz, Hunter, your thoughts?”

“Well it’s obvious isn’t it?” the young witch answered with a confident smirk, “Logic and Virtue, oh and Vitus. I mean, it might have been different during the Savage Ages, wait, could a world even change its alignment like that? If there was a significant enough change maybe? Anyway, as I was say-”

“Whoa there! Thank you Hunter, I appreciate your enthusiasm and you can go into more detail in a moment,” Ford smiled, “But I'd like to hear Luz’s opinion as well.”

He grunted but conceded as he shot a sharp look at Luz, who looked uncomfortable, almost cringing as she answered.

“I uh… kinda have to go the other way around. Nonsense, Wicked and Mortis.”

“What?! Are you crazy?!” Hunter snapped and standing up from his desk.

“Well I-“

“Now now, we can discuss this like adults,” the scientist interrupted, “Hunter, explain your reasoning please.”

“Hmph! Well for one, Logic because Belos created the Coven System and brought order to magic. Virtue because the Coven System was given to us by the Titan and made everything better! And Vitus because everyone is alive back home.”

Ford paused for a second before taking out a notepad and made a note, “Mhm… Luz, your thoughts?”

“Well… Nonsense because a lot of the stuff there is like something from a twisted kid’s book, ya know, the fairies, boiling rain, you get the idea. Wicked because the boiling sea isn’t exactly safe, there are giant monsters and people can do terrible things with their magic if they wanted to. As for the Mortis thing… well, it also ties into the Nonsense thing but uh… the entire Isle is a giant dead body that everybody lives on and demons spawned from.”

“How is that Nonsense?! It makes perfect sense!”

“Now now you two,” they were interrupted by Ford as he furiously scribbled down some more notes, “Both of you have brought up some excellent points. We undoubtedly need more data on this, but so far it seems that the Boiling Isles is a unique outlier that could be very close to the center of the Great Compass’s alignment. I’d theorized that such worlds existed but would be understandably rare. We can discuss it more later in some one-on-one sessions if you like, but for now, you should probably get going, otherwise you might be late to your next class.”

They didn’t look particularly happy but they didn’t argue either. As they left, Luz stopped and looked back.

“Hey Ford… where do you think this world is on the Compass thingy?”

“Hm? Oh, I’d have to say it has a firm foothold in both Wicked and Logic.”

“…you’re sure about that? I mean the Logic part makes sense but the Wicked thing?”

Ford just gave her a look, it wasn’t stern or angry, but more like acceptance tinged with something else. It wasn’t sadness, but it was anything good or happy.

“Luz… If our history as a species has taught me anything, it’s that good and bad can exist side by side… but if you let wolves and sheep into the same pasture, you’ll soon end up with nothing but wolves. Does that make sense?”

“…yeah, unfortunately… and I know it’s just a metaphor but I like wolves.”

“I know, they’re good creatures but it was the best example I had. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear.” She just quietly nodded and the trio headed to their next class. Like she had expected, the students were broken up into two groups, split between the older and younger age groups. Strickler had barely suggested King join the younger kids before the little demon loudly protested the idea and clung to Luz like his life depended on it. The man just gave a small smile and said he could join the older students for a few days until he was comfortable enough to join his age group. Remembering what Teodora said about siblings coming to the school, she had a gut feeling that he had had this conversation many times before. Compared to a crash course on inter-world travel and categorization, a regular math class was weirdly disappointing. Well, except for the fact that Krel was the one teaching it. She noticed that Hunter’s eyes lit up as he wrote down the questions from the board, a noticeable smile on his face. Who knew he liked mathematics so much? Luz herself didn’t care about the subject either way, she had applied it to the real world a few times, both with her art and magic. What she didn’t like was the overly rigid way it was taught, with no chance to explore other ways to solve a problem, just use the one specific method the school wanted you to and hope you got it right. To her great relief, Krel didn’t seem to care about “Core Curriculum Nonsense” as he put it and allowed them to find answers on their own. He didn’t hesitate to help, and was very quick to catch errors. The only time that seemed to change was when he glanced at Jack’s paper, and they began to bicker about his process, and the rest of the class was dedicated to watching them argue. If that was what the school had in store, she began to wonder what their next class would entail. A Driver’s Ed class where the first lesson was learning how to hotwire a car was not what she had expected. Plus she was fourteen, she knew for a fact she and a good few others were way too young to be here. Most states didn’t let you start learning how to drive until you were fifteen and a half, and yet there she was. Jack Spicer and Grunkle Stan excitedly explained how to recognize the various wires under a dashboard, the best/safest way to cut them and what connecting them would do. This was followed with a short speech about escaping a car sinking in water, waiting until it was submerged when the water pressure was more equalized on the door and easier to get open. This was how they learned that while the school taught regular lessons, there was also a major focus on “what you might need on your adventures” as Stan put it. He emphasized this with a story about having to chew his way out of the trunk of a car when he was in his twenties. It was interrupted when Jack began to argue with Krel when the royal said something about adding alien technology to increase a car’s speed. The evil boy genius countered with a statement about using the bare minimum they would have on hand before it broke out into a full on fight. Nobody tried to stop them, watching two nerds roll around on the ground and mostly just yell weird expletives at each other was too much fun for the others to stop. Stan even pulled out a camera from seemingly nowhere and began recording, they only stopped when it was time for them to head to their next class. It was Social Studies with Mr Strickler and to everyone’s relief, the arguing teenagers were seated as far apart from each other as possible. He was clearly not putting up with their apparent feud. Luz was excited for this class, she liked history, finding out how the world got to where it was now, the whos, the wheres whats and whys. The man was good at it too, the way he spoke was almost like a storyteller, captivating and enwrapping. The lesson was focused on the early days of the American Revolution, particularly the Boston Massacre and how tensions between the British soldiers and the civilians had reached a boiling point. The lesson was halfway over when she stole a glance towards King and Hunter, the former slumped over in her lap as he napped, the latter looking utterly lost and confused but trying his best to follow along. It struck her that neither of them knew anything about human history, she was going to have to help tutor them and get them caught up. Strickler apparently had the same idea, because as class ended, he approached. “Hunter, may I speak with you a moment?” “Yes, what is it?” the witch asked, the tiniest twinge of frustration apparent on his features. “It occurred to me that due to you being from another world, you have little to no knowledge about our world’s history, is that correct?” “Yeah, what of it?” “Well, you are at a serious disadvantage in my class, so I would like to assign you a tutor to help you gain a more equal footing with your peers.” “And you aren’t giving this same generous offer to the rat?” he jabbed a thumb towards King, who was perched on Luz’s shoulder. “I’m not a rat!” “Young King is a child and will be joining the other elementary school aged students, the topics they cover are much more simple and don’t require the level of context or nuance you’ll be learning about. Frankly, if you don’t accept this help, you will be lost and quickly fall behind everyone else.” Hunter scrunched up his face, he probably wanted to say he didn’t need a tutor, that he could handle this on his own, but… something stopped him. There was a pause before he released a drawn out, “Fffffffffine.” “Excellent. Now then, Otto, could you come here please?” To their surprise, a small boy came out from behind a massive stack of books. He couldn’t have been more than eight and had a huge smile on his face. He was a pale child, with a small mop of red hair on his head, dressed in a dark blue t-shirt, darker shorts and red and white sneakers. He also had a huge pair of thick rimmed glass that took up half of his face and a dusting of freckles on his cheeks. “You needed me Mr Strickler?” he asked with a scratchy voice. “Otto, this is Hunter, he’s new to our world and needs to catch up on histor-” “Consider it done sir!” the little boy said excitedly before running up to Hunter, “Hi, I’m Otto Osworth, I’m gonna be your tutor!” “...you can’t be serious,” Hunter scowled at Strickler, “You want a kid to help me catch up with your class?!” “Rest assured, Otto may be young, but he is a prodigy,” Strickler said sternly and the young witch’s ears perked, “He is much more advanced than any other child his own age when it comes to history, it is why I teach him with the teenagers. He also has a true passion for the topic, to the point we had to limit how many books on the subject he can check out of the library. He’d never finish the rest of his homework otherwise.” “Hey! That was only one time!” the boy protested, “And it was the first time I got to read history books from this year!” “Wait, pause that for a second! What do you mean by that?” Luz interrupted, very confused, “Books from this year?” “Oh, that! I’m from the year 2001,” Otto smiled up at her. “Que?! You are?! But… wuh… Huh?!” “I seem to recall you were told some of our students are time travelers,” Strickler looked very amused at the simple explanation, and her eyes got huge. “I… I assumed that meant they would be from the future I-” “Well… I kinda am and kinda not,” Otto fiddled with his fingers awkwardly as he spoke, “I mean… I’m originally from 2001, but I was adopted by my dads and they’re from the year 3000.” “Wait, 3000?! That’s-“

“Yeah, I know,” the boy shrugged sheepishly.

“Wait… this kid is a time traveler?! For real?” King asked, “Now this is the kind of hot gossip we didn’t get back home!” “Oh! I’ve never seen something like you before!” the little boy squeaked as he stood on his toes to get a better look at the young demon, “What’s your name?” “I’m King Clawthorne, nice ta meet’cha Otto!”

“Back up a minute,” Luz requested, “If you’re from… uh… the future, then why are you attending school here? When… here? I… how do I even phrase this?!”

“Hehe, you got the right idea. As for why… well, this is the only school of its kind that’s even semi-close to the era I originally come from. My dads wanted me to be in a school in a time period I would be mostly familiar with, and this was the first one of its kind founded, ever!”

“...really?”

“Mhm, and honestly, I don’t have a whole lot of experience with Earth in the year 3000, we live on a satellite. I know for sure stuff like time travel is more well known by then, but I don’t know about the magic stuff or going to other worlds.”

“...they keep you on the satellite?”

“They have to, it’s for their jobs, they’re time cops. They make sure anomalies in the past don’t occur and set history off onto a different timeline, or they try to anyway, and they rarely get a day off. Usually by the time we get the mission, things have already started to change,” Otto then shuddered, “Have you ever heard Blackbeard, the pirate, make bad call whale noises because he got into that whole “save the whales” thing almost three hundred years before it was an actual movement?”

Luz placed a hand to her head, it felt like it was about to spin right off her neck!

“Okay… I… I just need a moment to… to process this.”

The boy smiled at her before turning to Hunter, “Anyway, just let me know the where and when, and I’ll be more than happy to help you with history lessons!”

The teenager just grunted and didn’t give an actual answer.

“Wait, what about magical history?” Luz piped up, “We don’t know anything about that, er, or Earth’s magical history anyway.”

“Rest assured, Blinky had prepared some reading materials for you to go over. Major historical events are less… condensed when it comes to magical creatures due to having longer lifespans. More time to plan things out, put things into motion, that sort of thing. There’s also the whole, “being sealed away for however long” thing that tends to happen a lot.”

“Really? That happens?”

“Yes, it does. Now, if I remember correctly, Blinky will be starting on a new section for today’s class. If it is about what I suspect it is, you won’t need much in the way of context to begin with.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well… it was a thousand years ago, there was a conflict between the trolls, those who wished to remain in hiding and those who wanted to take over the surface world.”

“...take over? What about the humans? And other magical creatures?”

“They planned to devour all of the humans they could find, and due to their strength and brutality, it would have been easy. I’m afraid I don’t know what the plan for the other magical creatures would have been… but whatever it was, it would have probably led to a full out war.”

The two teenagers found this deeply unsettling.

Their next class was Science, taught by Ford, who was far too happy to guide them through an experiment that had them making their own batteries. Next were Language Arts and Reading, both were taught by Maria, and Luz was stunned to learn the woman was begrudgingly teaching a play she disliked. The Tragedy of Titus Andronicus was considered the worst of Shakespeare’s plays, about a Roman general who loses everything, his few remaining children, his position, arguably his sanity, and all because he was the deciding voice in which of the emperor’s sons would take the throne. Luz counted herself lucky, for most of her classmates this was their first real introduction to the bard, she on the other hand had read the entirety of Romeo and Juliet. She had become enamored with the story when she was preparing for her audition for the school play, and could understand why it was his best work.

However she did laugh at the revelation that, of all things, his worst one had what might have been the very first Yo Mama jokes ever written.

After that was lunch, and Luz had to admit, she was relieved for the break, she was starving!

She glanced around the dining room before spotting her new friends, Titan that still got her giddy to think about, at a nearby table. She took a calming breath before walking over to join them.

“Hey guys,” she said, feeling a bit awkward as her stomach tied itself into knots.

“Hey man,” Jake smiled, looking up from a notebook he and Danny were going over.

“Uh, what’s that?” she sat down, putting hers and King’s meals on the table.

“Oh, we’re just going over some flying notes.”

“Flying?”

“Yeah, we’re both members of the Senior Flyers Club, we’re just goin’ over some ideas for the next meetin’.”

“Dang, that’s awesome! You know, I used to fly using my mentor’s magic staff.”

“Really?!”

“Uh-huh! It’s similar to what Hunter does with his.”

“Don’t lump me in with you,” the blonde groused as he stabbed at his salad.

“What do you even do in that club anyway?” King piped up, taking a big bite from a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Eh, nothing major, helping each other learn to fly better, agility and basic tricks. Plus, challenging each other to improve. Some of the races can get kinda nuts, especially when we set up obstacle courses.”

Luz grinned, this sounds like it would have been a lot of fun! She wished Owlbert was here so she could join in, and Eda might have some advice on it too!

That’s when she noticed Randy, slumped over a large textbook, looking like he was asleep.

“Uh… is he…?”

She poked his head with the handle of her fork, only to yelp and jumped back when she saw his eyes were rolled back in his head, his jaw was slack and he was drooling all over the book!

“Is he dead?!” she exclaimed, now holding King and Hunter summoned his staff.

“Huh? Oh yeah, no, he’s just Shlooped,” Danny shrugged.

“...that isn’t a word!”

“It’s what he calls it when he goes into the book.”

“...wait, what?”

Jake lifted the taller boy’s head and pulled the book out from under him. He shook off some of the drool and closed it. It was twice the thickness of any textbook she had ever seen and bound in black leather. It had red rings on the cover, with dark gray symbols between, and in the center was a green gem cut into the shape of the ninja mask he had been wearing yesterday afternoon.

“It’s called the Ninja Nomicon, it’s a magic book that the line of ninjas he’s from recorded all their knowledge and techniques in. It lets him and others enter it, train in and who knows what else… but damn it gets trippy in there sometimes. Floating doodles stuff.”

“Wait… YOU CAN GO INTO THE BOOK?!” she reached across the table to try and grab it in her excitement.

“Whoa, easy there Luz-y! This thing is kinda-” the gem began to flash a hazardous green color, “Temperamental.”

“...it’s sentient?!”

Hunter had stopped eating and now had a similar expression to Luz’s, though considerably less wild. Danny was snickering as he watched this, a smile forming under his hand.

“Well… uh… kinda? Maybe? It isn’t clear? Look, all I know is this thing gets a say on things too! I joined Randy in there a few times, and the Nomicon only let me stay so long as we spar-”

“You’ve been in there?!”

“Maybe three or four times, and I had to ask the Nomicon for permission first! It wouldn’t open until I did!”

“...Nomicon, can we be friends please?” she squeaked, holding her hands together, almost like she was begging.

The gem stopped flashing, there was no clear answer there.

“I’m gonna take that as a maybe!”

Jake just winced before opening the book to a random page and slid it back under Randy’s head. As soon he made contact with the parchment, he shot back up, gasping as if he had stopped breathing while in the book.

“WHAT THE SHOOB DID YOU GUYS DO OUT HERE?! NOMICON WAS TOTALLY FREAKING OUT!”

“Luz wants to try and be buddies with it,” Danny answered.

“Frie-say WHAT?!”

“Personally, I think it would be more interesting to talk to it about how its magic works,” Hunter interrupted, leaning forward, “It could be a new way to learn faster and more efficiently!”

The book’s gem began to flash again.

“Yeah uh, Nomicon kinda only wants me to Shloob in there.”

“...that isn’t a word,” the witch stated flatly, all excitement gone from his voice. Luz giggled at the fact he repeated her word for word.

Randy just groaned, rolled his eyes and tucked the book into his messenger bag.

“Actually, there was something I kinda wanted to ask you guys about,” she added gingerly, “I keep hearing about the therapist the school has but we haven’t met them yet, or even know where their office is. Do you think you could show us when you have a chance?”

“Oh yeah sure,” Danny nodded, “We’ll be heading that way for our next class anyway.”

“Great! By the way, Ford mentioned group therapy meetings, do you know when those’ll be?”

“Eh, they’re held every few days, since you’re new it’s not a big deal if you don’t join them right away. I think the next one’s tonight if you want in.”

“Oh, and they’re never held on Fridays and Saturdays,” Jake added, “The doc wants us to have those two nights guaranteed to be free. You can request a private session with her though.”

“I still don’t see why we need to attend them in the first place,” Hunter sighed, “I can’t speak for the rest of you but, no offense, I’m perfectly fine.”

The three boys just looked between themselves and then at Hunter… or rather, the large scar on his cheek and the nick in his ear.

“Huh, and here I thought denial was only a river in Egypt,” Danny was smirking, “Didn’t know we had one here too.”

“Weak!” Jake declared, “That was weak! He’s losing his touch folks! The Spider-Man banter is suffering a slow, painful death!”

Frowning, the taller boy shoved his apple into the dragon’s mouth, earning a muffled yelp.

As lunch began to wind down, the group got up and the trio of boys took the lead. Luz watched the way they pushed each other and made jokes. It made her miss Willow and Gus, they had been her first real friends, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they had looked the same way to strangers they passed on the street. Just… happy and filled with a lust for life.

She was snapped from her thoughts when Randy very loudly announced that they had arrived at the therapist’s office. The door had been left open, showing the inside of the office. It was a big room, possibly even bigger than the actual classrooms, it had two couches, a loveseat, massive pillows and bean bag chairs everywhere. It seemed a lot less formalized than what she imagined regular therapist offices to look like. To the far right was a bookcase, there seemed to be an organizational system to it. The lower shelves were full of books for little kids including coloring books, and the higher up you went, the more advanced the reading material became. The top two shelves seemed to hold reference material for mental health issues, she recognized the DSM-5 so those were probably for the therapist.

To the left of the bookshelf were plastic containers full of toys, a few of them led to a small table that looked like it had recently been used in a session. To the far left of the room was a few more bookshelves, however these ones had a massive collection of board games. Mounted on the wall was a series of computer monitors, each one had a camera perched over them, though at the moment, none of them were on. They were probably for the students who attended the therapy sessions virtually.

Near the back of the room was a large, important-looking desk, flanked on both sides by tall, thin windows. It appeared to be hand carved, with a string of roses ornamenting the ledge, as well as a few… were those frogs? Toads maybe? A desk lamp sat on top, as well as a few files…

And then she saw what was mounted on the wall behind the desk.

“ARE THOSE SWORDS?!”

Held up with careful precision was a pair of identical swords, crossed over each other in an X shape. One was a soft poppy red color while the one was a gray-silver blue, and both had the same strange hilt design, she had to squint for a moment before realizing they were birds. They almost looked like herons!

“Yup, the doc’s a bit of a badass,” Jake smirked, “Totally learned how to use those things in just two months!”

“Aw Jake, nice to hear you have such a high opinion of me.”

The voice made the dragon squeak and Luz turned around fast. Her eyes widened as she looked at what had to be the coolest-looking adult. She was in her twenties, with blonde hair cut into a bob that stopped just short of her shoulders, and a pair of stylish sunglasses rested on her head. Below her left eye was a noticeable beauty mark, and on her right cheek was a small scar. She wore small gold hoop earrings, a periwinkle blouse, a long purple skirt, black boots and a black leather biker jacket. On the left sleeve with a patch of the two crossed swords and in her hand was a steaming cup of coffee.

She let out a warm chuckle as she looked over the group of teenagers.

“So, you’re our new students huh?”

“U-Uh, y-yeah,” Luz managed to stammer out.

“Cool, I’m Dr. Waybright, I’m the school’s therapist. Now lemme guess…” she had a wry smile as she pointed at each of the newcomers, “You’re Luz, the lil’ guy is King, and he’s Hunter.”

“Yeah… guess you saw our files like Douxie did huh?”

“I did,” she nodded, “I like to be as prepared as I can when it comes to my new patients,” the girl watched as the woman walked to her desk, her boots clicking softly on the floor. As she passed, Luz saw that on the back of the doctor’s jacket as the anagram B.A.C.A. She was a legitimate biker! “Now then, is there anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, uh, not exactly. We kinda just didn’t know where your office was, ya know, for the future and uh…”

“Hehehe, don’t worry kid, I can tell where you’re going with this.”

She physically deflated in relief.

“Gracias…”

“De nada.”

“Eh? ¿Tú hablas español?”

“Only the basics.”

She smiled a bit, she was beginning to really like this lady!

“Anyway, if you guys don’t need me for an actual session, you might wanna head to the sparring ring. Stan’s in charge of your gym class today and unless you wanna work at the Shack this sweekend, you should get going.”

“...what’s the Shack?” Hunter spoke up, his brows furrowed in suspicion.

Dr. Waybright chuckled, “Don’t worry kid, it’s nothing bad, you’ll find out soon enough. By the way, Danny, we still on for your session at 3:30 later?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be here Doc.”

“Good. Now, get going. I hear Stan has an obstacle course planned for you guys today.”

A spark came to the trio of boys' eyes, as well as excited grins.

“...why do they look like that?” King whispered to Luz.

“...I think they’re excited for this.”

Hunter stayed quiet, but he was intrigued. Perhaps this obstacle course could prove interesting.

#wayward strays #Wayward Strays AU #massive crossover #fanfic #TOH #the owl house #toh hunter #luz noceda #king clawthorne #tales of arcadia #american dragon jake long #Danny Phantom #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #amphibia

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dndads-worst-ending · 1 year ago

Text

The Very Good Son

When he was first taken in by Her Majesty, he had no desire to act like a son at all. Thirteen years old, he was a brat of a child whose only interactions with nature were running across the grass of a soccer field. He held no appreciation for the wisdom of a towering pine, no understanding that it was by the grace of an aspen grove that he was allowed to breathe. He's learned much in ten years.

[ Warning. This post contains descriptions of major character death, child death, violence, blood, depression, suicidal thoughts, and mentions of eating disorders. ]

In the first few months, he was unwilling to leave the cell room allowed to him. He clung to the slim rectangle until its light went out for the last time, and even after the light went out for the final time he continued to fidget with the ridges on its sides. Why did that useless chunk of metal mean so much to him? He still has that thing somewhere, a relic of his past, but it’s in a drawer. Unnecessary. He doesn’t need the unnecessary.

He was fed well and looked after. Most surprising was that Her Majesty came to check on him every day, even when he refused to speak or even look at her. She still came, speaking softly, and stayed for a while each day. It was so different from what he was used to, that his silence wasn’t entirely out of fear. He truly did not know how to respond.

During one visit, she looked at him with a sense of understanding.

"Since you don't like to speak out loud," she said. "Would you like to learn a spell that lets you speak silently?" His expression must have betrayed some kind of interest, because she continued, "It's called Telepathy. It's pretty easy to learn. Next time I visit, I'll bring a spell book with me and teach it to you."

And she did, and before long he was able to communicate with her using nothing but his mind and a little magic. His responses were still clipped and curt, but she didn't seem to mind. They were talking.

➴

Eventually, he accepted her invitation to tea. He didn’t really like tea, or at least he thought he didn’t. The “tea” he’d tried before was stale and crammed into tiny bags and mass produced. When she’d poured him a fragrant beverage, he had taken that porcelain cup with doubt in his eyes. It smelled better than he remembered his mother’s tea smelling. This had a natural sweetness to its aroma, and as he hesitantly sipped the warm drink he was suddenly struck with the sensation of springtime. It was as if flowers were blooming on his tongue and, for the first time in almost a year, he felt safe.

After a couple more months of coming out for teatime, he began to accompany Her Majesty around the castle. She seemed happy to have the company and allowed him to linger in the throne room while she was conducting business, gently told him he could sit with her while she was reading, and occasionally asked for him to pass her whichever gardening tool she required while she was busy in the courtyard soil. He had never personally known a Queen before her, the only representation from Darryl's Disney Movies movies. She wasn't wicked, though, or conniving. She wasn't obsessed with her own personal beauty and didn't seem interested in conquest. She was a kind Queen. She was a very good Queen.

➴

It wasn't originally supposed to end with him staying with her. He had been the extra, the spare in case one was lost or ended up dying. When the battle had ended, the two men had been deciding who would take them. The elf said he only wanted one of his own blood. The other said he had his hands full with the two he had chosen. They were prepared to dispose of him and be done with it all, but that's when Her Majesty spoke up.

"I'll take him," she had said, her vibrant eyes daring either of the men to oppose her. They exchanged a glance and agreed. She had then turned to him and said, "You'll be working for me my son from now on. You might not like it at first, but the alternative is I let Willy slit your throat right now that's alright. It'll be alright. Just listen to your new Queen Mother, Grant."

➴

Two years into living at Rock Port Castle with Her Majesty, there was an incident. An assassin broke in and made an attempt on the Queen's life. The event occurred late in the evening. Grant had grown accustomed to a routine of rising early to assist Her Majesty in the garden, then sharing a quiet breakfast. During the day he studied, assisted the Queen with her royal duties, and practiced the simple spells she'd taught him. Later, they checked in on the gardens again, and eventually returned to the dining hall for supper.

The incident occurred twenty minutes into their evening meal. Grant's place at the long table was halfway between the head, where the Queen was cutting into her steak, and the opposite end where a decorative pot of flowers sat on the end of the table.

Grant was reluctantly picking at his own plate. Mealtimes had always been difficult for him, even before he was taken in by Her Majesty. He didn't get hungry as often as he should, and if left to himself he'd probably forget to eat for days at a time. It was an obligation he fulfilled only so the the Queen wouldn't express worry for his health. It was difficult when most food was tasteless and bland to him, but he managed to finish what was given to him.

The crash of breaking glass snapped Grant out of his melancholic quiet. Gasping, he raised his head, eyes darting to the window, not fast enough to see what had shattered the pane but quickly enough that he saw the arrow fly in. His gaze followed its path as it buries itself in the Queen's chair, where her head would have been if she had not tilted it to the side. Her dark eyes glanced at the arrow, unimpressed, and she said only one word before continuing her meal.

"Guards."

The Queen's guards sprang into action as the pair of assassins barreled into the dining hall. The eyepatched archer lingered by the window, continuing to shoot at the guards while their companion charged directly into battle. She yelled as she swung her swords, trying to get around the small swarm of soldiers and reach the Queen.

Her Majesty cut small bites of her steak, eating calmly until she was finished. She set her fork and knife to the side of the plate, delicately picked up the cloth napkin, wiped her mouth, and then finally turned her gaze toward the archer, who had been forced onto his knees, and the swordswoman, who lay unmoving beside her brother.

"Fuck! Fuck you!" the archer was yelling, struggling as the hands kept him down. His eye was full of hatred as he glared at the Queen. "You killed my uncle; you killed my sister! I'll kill you! You hear me, Erin, I'll kill you!"

Grant, who had stood up at some point, was frozen, staring at the would-be-assassin. He was shaking, but not from fear. His heart was beating harder and faster than he could remember it had for a long time. Witnessing the fight had stirred something in him, something he had nearly forgotten. Something about the way the girl had gone limp after being run through from behind... Grant swallowed and tore his eyes away from the corpse to look at the boy, whose gaze landed on him at the same time.

"Huh?" The assassin seemed confused, but recognition flashed in his eye. "Grant?" And Grant realized that he did know this assassin. Years ago, he had run into this boy a couple of times. Nothing special had occurred between them, despite the brief delusions Grant had held at the time.

"Grant," the Queen said calmly. "Do you know this person?" Grant didn't look away from Yeet Bigley, didn't open his mouth. His expression hadn't even changed since the attack began. He slowly sat back down and, keeping his eyes on the face of someone he once thought would matter to him, he replied telepathically.

No.

A flick of the Queen's fingers, and a head dropped onto the dining room floor. Grant watched as the bodies were removed, and remained still until a low rumble broke the room's silence.

"Are you hungry, Grant?"

He nodded. He was.

"Finish eating, then meet me in the library," the Queen said as she rose and exited the dining hall, patting Grant's shoulder as she passed him. Grant looked at his plate and began eating voraciously. He was hungry.

➴

Following the incident, Grant had taken it upon himself to train both his body and mind. If such a thing ever happened again, he wanted to be the one to kill the assassins defend the Queen.

Her Majesty was confused at first by the request to accompany the soldiers during their training sessions but allowed it at once. She ordered her elite squadron to allow Grant to shadow them, and they took their new role as law. Their training was intense to the point that his entire body burned from being pushed past its limit daily.

His first time holding a sword, it was heavy, and he couldn’t keep it aloft. He was slow, sluggish. It was frustrating. Why couldn’t he just pick up a weapon and start fighting? Why couldn’t he jump into a battle? He craved another taste of that rush, and that was what drove him to put his head down and keep learning. Sword practice. Archery. Getting beat to a pulp while trying to defend himself in sparring matches. Being healed and going through it all again.

Grant’s first proper swing of the sword dug into the training dummy. It didn’t feel right. The density was too light, and it didn’t have the right sound that a blade through flesh should make. He was unsatisfied. He wanted to feel the real thing.

➴

Four months into training, and he could decently wield the blade. It was still as heavy as it always had been, but his shoulders had grown tougher, his arms were bulkier. His appearance was not dissimilar to that of a high school football player, although the dark clothing he chose to wear would be uncharacteristic of such an athlete.

“Grant,” said the elf who had been taking the lead on his training. “You’re riding with us on our mission tonight.” Grant’s eyes flicked up to his face for confirmation, and he nodded. This was it. It was happening.

As the sun made its gracious descent beneath the horizon, Grant mounted his steed, dubbed Lorca, and kept pace with the members of the party as they rode into the night. The squadron leader did not waste time with unnecessary details, and Grant was not going to be the one who breaks the silence by asking a lot of useless questions.

They arrived in the village after nightfall. Their orders were simple. No one was to escape. The party was divided, with the majority heading into the village and the remainder of them were stationed around the perimeter. Grant was placed by the forest’s edge, nowhere near the village gate. In other words, he was the least likely to encounter anyone fleeing from the village. That alone was enough to prove that they thought he was a liability. He scowled as soon as he was left alone but didn’t complain.

Voices rose from the village soon afterward. Grant could hear the clang of metal, likely as the villagers were fighting back. He remained at his station, but he yearned to run back and join the fight. He wanted to help instead of just staying here uselessly.

A flicker of movement caught his eye. Grant’s head turned, and he saw two figures. How had they gotten over the wall? By climbing, perhaps, or maybe there was a hole that had gone unattended. Either way, he had his orders. No one was to escape. He darted after them, cutting them off before they could disappear into the trees.

They were both younger than he, and one held a wooden sword shakily in front of them as Grant approached. His own sword weighed in his hand, not as heavy as it once was. He stepped closer to them, wondering if they would run back toward the village. That would be smart. That would be best, right? But the villager holding the sword suddenly swung at Grant, while the other started to run. Grant felt his arm move, almost by instinct after all the drills and training. Unlike the training dummies, the sound his blade made now was exactly right.

He turned to chase after the one who had run. They were smaller and seemed to have poor vision in the dark. When he caught up to them, the villager was picking himself up after tripping over a rotting fallen log. He looked up at Grant fearfully, and Grant looked down at him without expression. Was the boy saying something? Grant couldn’t hear him over the rushing noise that deafened his ears. What he could hear was the order not to let anyone escape. What he could feel was a nostalgic sensation, one that embraced him like an old friend.

When the party returned to collect him, several hours later, the party leader asked him if there had been any trouble, then followed Grant’s gaze to the two bodies that had been piled neatly near the tree. Grant saw a smile and felt a hand land approvingly on his shoulder. He was a very good soldier.

➴

Time flew as a raven would, deftly and in a dark blur. In Grant’s once home, he would be praised now as a man old enough to enjoy a drink. Here, however, the most recent birthdays had simply been days when Her Majesty greeted him with a warm nod and a murmured word of approval. She asked him if there was anything he would like as a gift, and some years he would make a request, while on other birthdays he merely shrugged and shook his head.

Last year, his request had been a difficult one, but Erin had said that nothing was too good for her son. It had taken a few months, many attempts at finding a skilled enough artificer, and careful experimentation, but the Hunter Bolt-Action Sniper was eventually created. Ammunition could be produced magically, and the weapon could eliminate enemies from further than any bow. He made good use of it in service to his mother.

Grant was grateful for everything that Erin had done for him. From teaching him magic to just being there for him, from letting him learn at his own pace to never making a word of judgment against his interests, she was the best parent Grant could have wished for.

And, yes. He remembered Earth. He remembered Darryl and Carol. He remembered San Dimas and soccer. He didn’t miss them. This was where he belonged. This was where he was meant to be all along.

Anything that Erin asked of him, he did without question. Anywhere she wanted him to go, he was riding there at once. She was everything to him, a mother and a queen. It did not matter whose blood needed to be spilled. It did not matter what information he needed to gain. He would fulfil any request for her. He would fill any role. He was a soldier, a scout, assassin, and most importantly a son.

He was a very good son.

#dndads we!au #dndads worst ending #dndads worst ending au #dungeons and daddies worst ending #dungeons and daddies worst ending au #grant wilson #dndads grant #erin o'neil #yeet Bigley #killa demall #trigger warning death #trigger warning violence #trigger warning blood

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storiesofsvu · 2 years ago

Text

Her Everything Ch 10

Warnings: Language, talk of the SVU job.

“Are you even paying attention to the movie?” Rafael’s voice broke through you distracted train of thought, his hand playing with your hair stilling. You were lying on the couch, head in his lap, it rolled up to face him,

“Sorry, Sonny just keeps harassing me.”

“Do you need to go?”

“No.” You gently grasped the hand that had been buried in your hair, kissing it softly, “He’s been on my case all year wanting to do engagement photos. I have a feeling if we don’t let him do them soon he’ll come barging in here.” Rafael couldn’t help the scoff and eye roll, causing you to laugh, “It’s been a year Raf! He knows our four years is coming up, he means well.”

“Yeah well he’s a little to eager..in all aspects.”

“You need to cut him a little slack.” You rolled back to face the t.v, “Besides, your Mom has added me to about a million Pinterest boards. If we don’t set a date soon I think she might kill us both.” Your fiancée chuckled above you, hand stroking the hair behind your ear gently so he could see at least part of your face.

“Okay..so..May?” You rolled your head back up to face him, a nearly horrified look on your face,

“Next month!? I’m no bridezilla but a wedding takes longer than a month to plan. Unless you want to elope, in which case your mother will murder us.” Rafael laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead softly.

“Next May. We had our first date in May, we got engaged in May, it fits the timeline.” You hummed at the way he stroked at your cheek, “You’re still okay with a long engagement, right? Or did you want to set an earlier date?” His concern was present in his eyes when you met his gaze, a soft smile on your face, you pushed yourself up to sitting.

“May sounds perfect.” Your hand cupped his cheek, the kiss meeting his lips full of love and adoration, “I would wait forever as long as I got to marry you Mi Amour. I love you always.”

“I love you forever.” He murmured against your lips, reeling at the feeling of your smile against him. Rafael could still barely believe you’d fallen in love with him, you meant everything to him, and he could only hope that he meant as much to you as you did to him. Though, he knew exactly what the little gleam in your eye meant when he caught it across the courtroom or bull pen, the little quips that the squad missed completely, and the very personal purple post its that accompanied the case files. You dropped down into his lap again, a quick couple of clicks on your phone before your arm extended it up to Rafael,

“Pin the stuff you don’t hate.”

“Pin?” You laughed heartily.

“Okay…screenshot it…you know how to do that, right?” You cast him a wicked grin that he rolled his eyes at as he took your phone into his hands.

Despite the movie playing in front of you, the two of you ended up spending the next couple of hours laughing over ridiculous wedding venues, tropes and the like. Rafael could barely believe his own mother had sent you half of what she did, though he did comment on a few things, specifically how stunning you would look in a few of the dresses. The compliment made you flush, the dress board being one of your own, you took special note of his choices, hoping for the best reaction you could get on your special day.

Naturally, Lucia hadn’t pinned any places for the ceremony, hoping that the two of you would be married in a church. Despite yourself not being raised by any religion, you were quick to agree, knowing it was important to Rafael and Lucia, almost more importantly, that it would be important to Catalina. She may have physically been gone from your lives, but she was present as ever every day among the three of you.

Very reluctantly of Rafael, you let Carisi do a handful of engagement photos throughout Central Park. It wasn’t exactly your style, and you knew Rafael wasn’t having the best of times, but the few candid photos you got out of it truly showed your love towards each other. Those little moments when one thought the other wasn’t paying attention made everything worth it, the complete adoration in their eyes as they looked at the other one. You were surprised when Sonny asked for nothing in return, insistent that you at least buy him dinner. A few of the photos found their way around your apartment, your heart always swelling a little bit when you saw the gleam in Raf’s eye as he glanced at them.

You enjoyed the relatively slow time at SVU as much as you both could it was astonishing the amount of cases that came through that were open and shut, simple ones with not too much investigation involved.

Naturally, that could only last so long before things started to get hectic again. SVU caught a case that originally was thought to be part of a pattern rapist/murderer. It was only after questioning the vic’s sister, and boyfriend (whom she’d broken up with that evening) who was also her manager that things started to not make sense. A copy cat started to make much more sense, but there hadn’t been that much evidence reported to the media. Then Fin’s rope guy suddenly took back his statement, showing up at the riverside with a gun, then an article about Liv and Amanda being single mothers…and where exactly their kids came from while they worked sex crimes.

Then, you got a call, the voice was distorted, but you could still make out exactly what they were saying. Even if you didn’t, you got an untraceable email with all the information and bank statements that you knew to be true containing all the information you needed. You discreetly printed them off before asking Olivia if you could take an hour for lunch, buried in her own work, she barely acknowledged you before agreeing, and you quickly sped down to Hogan Place.

“Carino, I didn’t expect to see you today.” Rafael glanced up from his paperwork suddenly taken aback by the expression on your face. You dropped the pile of papers onto his desk,

“Who the fuck is Ashtonja Abreu?” His heart jumped into his chest, words jumbling out of his mouth as he tried to ramble his thoughts into a coherent sentence, watching the tears do their best to stay in your eyes. “I love you Rafael, I really, really do, and that part of me wants to believe what I pray is the truth, what my gut tells me is the truth, because you’re my fiancée, and I know you’d never lie to me. But today I got a phone call saying that you were paying a sixteen year old for sex, and the bank records prove you’ve been sending money to her. Raf..please..tell me there’s something else going on. Because the part of me that’s worked sex crimes for nine years can only think of the wives who find out the man they married twenty years ago isn’t who they thought.” You were barely holding back tears by now, deep in your heart you knew Rafael couldn’t be guilty of this but there was something going on, and you couldn’t bare to wait any longer, “Please…please don’t be like that…”

“Oh Carino…” Rafael swiftly moved from behind his desk, tucking you in his arms for a moment, calming you before sitting you on the couch beside him. “There is nothing going on. I should have told you…” His eyes didn’t meet yours and you swatted at the side of his thigh. He took a shaky breath “Ashtonja’s mother was the sole witness in a case I worked years ago, she was so freaked after the trial….she asked for a loan to help her through…”

“A drug loan…” You let out the hefty sigh you barely knew you were holding.

“I…gave it to her..and she overdosed that night. Ashtonja’s her daughter…the guilt…it ate me up inside everyday, how on earth could I let a girl grow up without her mother? She lives with her grandmother now…they can barely make ends meet without it.”

“Oh Raf…” You sighed, pressing your lips to the side of his head, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have come in here all accusatory.” His arm wrapped around your shoulders, giving you a soft squeeze.

“It’s okay. Like you said, in your line of work you see people who have loved each other for years and not know the real them.”

“But I should still trust you first.” Rafael held a finger to your lips,

“You trust your gut. When has it ever lead you wrong before?” You couldn’t help but give a small smile to his grin.

“I love you always.” You murmured, kissing him softly.

“I love you too.” He pecked your lips quickly, “But I’m calling Liv, I want you off the case.” He nearly jumped from the couch, phone already dialing in his hand.

“Excuse me?!” He shot you a glare,

“Your mother was brutally murdered by Nelson. His cell mate got out two months ago, god knows who else he came across in his time in Sing Sing. If this bastard has access to my banking information, to adoption records, he’ll find your legal name in no time and the last thing I want is for you to get hurt, or worse…”

Rafael couldn’t help the softened look in his eyes as he took you in, the annoyed but submissive look on yours as his free arm wrapped around you, pulling you to him. You could hear your Captain’s voice on the other end of the line, accepting, though frustratingly, that both of you were recused from the case. You knew she was running pretty slim after he’d come after so many of the squad already, but you knew there was no going back out there with Rafael’s protective arm wrapped around you.

At the very least, a few days off meant that the two of you actually got to start settling down some wedding details. Not that either of you were particularly invested in it, you knew it would be a small ceremony and celebration, but you met with Lucia and a handful of priests/churches until one was deemed acceptable. You slowly started to talk about your wedding parties, who would be where, and eventually settled on a reception location, finally booking it six months later, a lovely outdoor private garden. It seemed that every day you came home from wedding planning the two of you would fall into each other’s arms laughing, thankful for the relief of each other, you truly only wanted each other, nothing else mattered. Every night you went to bed you’d snuggle against each other, you’d tell Rafael “I love you always” and he’d reply with the “I’ll love you forever.” Before the two of you would drift off into a blissful sleep.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #law and order #her everything #law and order svu #svu #law and order special victims unit

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dem-obscure-imagines · 3 years ago

Text

Stealin’ Hearts

George “Digger” Harkness x Reader

Fandom: DC Extended Universe

Summary: You’re a superhero and you just found out your soulmate is the notorious diamond thief, Captain Boomerang. You want to trust him, but you’re not sure you can just yet, so…now what?

Note: This is the sequel to He’s a Challenge. I really wanted to write a second part lol so here you go!

Warnings: Alcohol mention.

Word Count: 1.5k

Reader is: Female (but I would be willing to rewrite another version for a male or gender neutral reader.)

When the jet landed, you let go of Boomer’s hand and led him out onto the roof of your family’s secluded forest mansion. He looked down at the sheer size of it, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Nothing, just…It’s not what I expected.” He admitted, hauling his duffle bag full of his few belongings over his shoulder. You led him in through the door and down the stairs to the balcony that overlooked the lower level of the house. You saw your siblings were congregated there, River looking particularly anxious, his arms across his chest. Rose and Ryan were sitting on the couch, talking, but their discussion stopped when they noticed you and Digger standing there, looking down at them.

“We’re here.” You called awkwardly.

“I see that.” River said, his eyes guarded as he looked the notorious Captain Boomerang up and down.

You led him down the stairs to where the others were and he hesitated, but followed after you anyway, a sheepish look on his face.

“So, Mr. Harkness, I’m not sure if (Y/N) told you why you’re here.”

“Well, I know we’re soulmates, so…” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously anxious about the whole situation. “I kind of figured that was why.”

“Well, yeah, but also no.” Rose laughed, motioning for everyone to sit down, so you . “(Y/N), why don’t you explain?”

You exhaled a long breath, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I can.” You looked up at Digger and he smirked. “Yeah, so, uh, our mom is the queen of an alien planet. So like…we’re royalty. And because of that, through our laws, you get diplomatic immunity because you’re my soulmate. I mean…unless you do something super fucked up and then I can’t help you.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his expression confused, but also evaluating what you had just said. “You mean to tell me my soulmate is a princess.”

“Yeah.” You shrugged.

He grinned. “Wicked.”

***

With every room of the mansion you showed Digger, the more and more impressed he became, taking everything in. He was still expecting you to take it all back at some point, tell him it was all a big joke and he wouldn’t be living in your giant mansion for the rest of his days.

That was strange to him, too. This weird sense of security. He’d had a rough upbringing, that much was for sure. He wasn’t used to stability, even in his adult life. He’d been constantly on the run, in and out of prison, doing whatever he could to make ends meet and try to establish something for himself, and…here it was. It had fallen right into his lap.

You pulled open a door and led him into another bedroom. There were a few generic pieces of art on the wall. The comforter was charcoal gray and there were a few navy throw pillows on top.

“I’m sorry it’s so empty in here.”

“Why are you…?” He paused for a second, looking around the spacious bedroom. It was nice, clean…way better than the tiny, dingy jail cell he’d been in for the past few years. “Is this my room?”

“Yeah, is that alright? It’s next door to mine, so I figured…”

“It’s perfect, princess.” He smiled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“Well, believe it.” You chuckled, stepping further into the room and opening the drawers on the dresser. “We didn’t know what size you were, so we guessed, but we picked you up some basics. I didn’t know what all you had…”

Digger was silent, watching you with careful eyes. You barely knew him and yet you’d done all of this for him, going out of your way to get him clothes and bedding.

“And this is your bathroom.” You opened the door to what he had assumed was a closet or something, but no, he now had an entire bathroom to himself as well. “I know the shower can be a little confusing, so let me know if you need any help with anything.”

You blinked up at him, waiting for some kind of reaction. “You good?”

“Y-yeah, I just…” He chuckled and shook his head. “This isn’t what I was expecting.”

“What, did you think we’d throw my soulmate in the dungeon?” You smirked, watching the way he couldn’t help but crack a smile at that.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

You were both quiet for a moment before he asked, “Do you mind if I take a shower real quick? I haven’t had a warm shower in…” He didn’t finish the thought. You both knew it had been a while since he’d had a bathroom to himself, let alone water that wasn’t already cold by the time he got to it.

“Go for it. I’ll be down in the living room when you get out.”

***

When Digger came back downstairs, you were almost shocked, looking at him. He’d trimmed his beard, combed his hair, and he was wearing one of the cozy gray hoodies you’d picked out for him. He looked nice. You couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks when you took him in.

“What, princess?” He raised an eyebrow, walking over to sit down next to you.

You set the book in your hands down on the coffee table. “Hmm?”

“What’s that look for?”

“You look nice, is all.” You shrugged.

He grinned. “You think so?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded. Once he was closer, you could smell the eucalyptus shampoo in his slightly damp hair. You leaned in the tiniest bit, terrified of moving too fast, but he leaned in a bit too, only to be interrupted by—

“GIRLS’ NIGHT!”

You looked up at the sound of the voice with wide eyes, chuckling when you saw none other than Harley Quinn standing there with a bottle of wine.

“Boomer? What are you doin’ here?” She asked, looking at him.

“I found my soulmate, Harls.” Digger said, smiling as he did.

She looked between the two of you, her eyes widening in realization. “Wait, are you two…?”

“Yeah, we are.” You confirmed, slipping your hand into Digger’s. He embraced it quickly, giving it a proud squeeze.

“But I thought your soulmate was some dude named George…?”

“Digger is just a nickname, mate.” He chuckled. “My real name is George.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Harley nodded. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”

“You know it’s Wednesday, right?” You said, glancing down at your phone to double-check.

“Oh, is it? I thought it was Thursday.” Harley laughed. “My bad.”

“You can hang out if you want to, though.” You offered, motioning to the couch.

“Don’t mind if I do.” She ran over and hopped onto the open end of the couch next to you, setting the wine bottle on the coffee table before crawling over to whisper in your ear, “He’s a keeper, (Y/N). You’re in good hands.”

“Oh believe me,” you smirked, “I know.”

***

It was a few months later. Much to your surprise, Digger stuck around. Part of you had expected him to leave that first night with all of your family valuables in his duffle bag, but he…hadn’t. Instead, he’d been coexisting peacefully with your siblings, spending significant amounts of time trying to get to know you better, reading, cooking on occasion, and helping with chores around the house.

He remembered in vivid detail the first time you’d trusted him enough to fall asleep with him. It had been innocent enough, one of your first times cuddling together. Your other siblings were all out of the house, so you and Digger had the house to yourselves. Naturally, you had popped in a movie. One thing had led to another and you’d ended up fast asleep on his chest.

He took a long moment to look at you, something he had never felt before welling up inside of him as slow breaths worked into and out of you.

Something changed then, and since that moment, he had been pretty attached to you. Not that you minded. It felt natural. He was your soulmate, after all.

“Princess, have you seen my—” Digger popped his head into your bedroom, frozen in his tracks when he saw you there, laying on your bed, reading a book.

“What?” You asked coyly.

“Nothing, I just…” He smirked and stepped into the room. “Would you like some company?”

“Weren’t you looking for something?”

“Yeah, my heart, and it seems you’ve been hiding it in here with you.” He replied, walking over to your bed and climbing on next to you. He gently guided your book away from you and took its place on your chest instead, looking at you with his sparkling eyes, his weight comforting on top of you.

“And here I thought you were the thief.”

“Reformed, darlin’.” He said, unable to keep the smile off of his face. For one of the only times in his life, not only did Digger feel safe, but he finally felt happy, and he knew as long as he was by your side, that feeling would never fade.

#captain boomerang #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomerang imagine #digger harkness #digger harkness x reader #digger harkness imagine #george harkness #dc #dc imagine #dc comics #tss #tss imagine

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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beomcoups · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Sorry

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: idol!Jaehyun (NCT) x femme reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, smut, fluff, loves to exes au, idol au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: R(18+)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy emotions, small drinking, kissing, fingering, oral (f.receiving), missionary, Jaehyun hits it from the back, choking, nipple play, slight nail digging into skin.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.5k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s been months since you and Jaehyun have broken up and you thought you would be okay, until he asked you to come over.

You know you shouldn’t be here, standing outside his door. You two are no good to each other, you fight more than you make up, and you’ve both been hurt so many times; yet, when he called, you came running.

You’ve been broken up with Jaehyun for months, your last fight so brutal that you vowed to never see each other again. It worked for a while, distracting yourself with work and blocking him from all social media. You felt strong and confident that you could get through this and that you can move on from him. But then you saw him on your friend’s Facebook page at dinner, his handsome dimpled face catching you off guard as you watched your mutual friend celebrate their birthday. It angered you, seeing him happy and without a carefree in the world while you had to pull yourself together and go through life without him.

Yet, as mad as you were, the happy memories you two shared flooded your mind, and your heart sank from the loneliness you had to bear and the feelings you have from missing him. When you think of Jaehyun, you get emotional, almost sick even; the love you have for him is greater than anything you experienced. He wasn’t your first love, your first kiss or your first sexual experience, but meeting him on that sunny afternoon on the beach changed your life. He understood your fears and your innermost thoughts and had a way of speaking that calmed your restless soul. Jaehyun has a wicked sense of humor and a kindness that melted your heart beyond words. He took you on spontaneous dates and would buy you flowers because he knew you loved them. His impeccable features and his sex drive were only pluses in the relationship that made you feel like he was the one; that you could be with him forever.

But his duties as an idol started to keep him away, and you knew that being with him came with that risk. You thought you could handle it, not being able to see him for weeks at a time and sometimes months if he was out of the country. The facetime and skype calls lasted for a while until those slowly started to fade, and you were staring at your phone at night, wondering when he would call. It didn’t help see him on tv, flirting with other women and showing off his charms that made you fall in love with him. You saw red when you saw him escort that famous actress to their premiere with his hand on her back. You have never been the jealous type, but seeing the man you love and have not seen in weeks with someone else set you ablaze. You pleaded with Jaehyun to carve out some time for you, even if it was just for an hour, but he always claimed he was too tired or busy. So you got fed up, marched over to his dorm unannounced and gave him a piece of your mind. He called you selfish and insecure, and that hurt you to the core. You screamed at him, throwing the promise ring he bought for you at his chest and broke up with him. You stormed out of the dorm, the members pretending that they didn’t hear anything, but you knew deep in your heart that they heard it all, and it just added more to your embarrassment.

As the months went by, you thought about that night often, what you could have done differently and if you would still take him back. So many nights, you held your phone in your hand, wanting to dial his number and make it alright. You hate him for letting you leave, but you love him just as much, so when he asked you to come over, it was a no brainer. So with a bit of liquid courage, you made your way to him, holding your breath all the way.

𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

Seeing Y/N again after all these months was like a breath of fresh air. She walked into Jaehyun’s room, beautiful as ever, her hair down in all its shiny glory, her skin glowing like the yellow orb in the sky. She is wearing that oversized sweater he bought her when he came back from tour, with shorts that show off those legs he loved to be in between. She smiled at him as she came in, but behind those beautiful eyes held a sadness he knew because of him, and he would do anything to take it away. Jaehyun is hopelessly in love with her, and there is no him without her. Y/N keeps him sane and anchored when he feels like he is going out of control. She understands him better than anyone and takes care of him, nurturing him with her sweet words and kind actions. Jaehyun’s never been able to convey how much she truly means to him, and he regrets letting her go. Seeing her in front of him brings colors into his gray world, and he needs her.

“So,” she stands there, twiddling her fingers as she sits down on the bed. “How have you been?”

He rakes his fingers through his hair, unsure how he should answer. Jaehyun wants to be honest with Y/N and kiss her beautiful face, but his pride will not let him. Instead, he leans back against his desk and folds his arms, trying to keep his cool demeanor.

“I’ve been okay, I suppose,” he clears his throat.

There is awkward dead silence, and he would be a liar if he said his heart wasn’t jumping out of his chest. He’s never been good with expressing his feelings, and it took a lot of courage and convincing from his members to give Y/N a call.

“You know you miss her, man,” his member Johnny voice rings through his head. “Just call her. The worst thing she can say is to fuck off or not respond at all.”

“So what have you been up to?” Jaehyun questioned, attempting to break the ice.

“Nothing really,” she sighs. “Just work work work.”

The deafening silence comes back, and Jaehyun is panicking, unsure what to say next. He doesn’t want to push things too fast and scare her away but damn it, he wants to be with her.

“What am I doing here, Jaehyun?” Y/N interrogates him, catching him off guard. “If you called me here for small talk, we could have done this over the phone.”

“I didn’t invite you here for small talk,” Jaehyun swore, his eyes pleading with her.

“So why am I here-”

“I miss you,” he blurts out, his voice echoing in the walls. “I fucking miss you, and I want you back.”

Her eyes widen, shocked at Jaehyun’s revelation, and he continues to confess how he feels.

“I was a fucking idiot for letting you walk out that door,” he laments, taking a seat in his chair. “At the time, when we were fighting, I felt like I was suffocating. I had comeback schedules and movie premieres to go to, and I didn’t want to let you down, but I felt like I was being pulled in different directions from everyone. So when you yelled at me, I got frustrated and lashed out at you instead of listening. I’m sorry about that.”

Watching Y/N’s eyes well up with tears broke his heart, and he wanted to kiss her pain away and make her whole again. Jaehyun yearned for her, and he was not letting her go again.

“You called me selfish and insecure,” Y/N sniffled, wiping her tears with her sweater. “That really hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun gets up and softly grabs her hand, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was feeling like you were not hearing me and you yelling at me made me feel like I was backed into a corner.”

“So you couldn’t handle me expressing how I feel?” Y/N criticized him, taking her hand away from him. “You were barely talking to me, and to see you on tv and flirting with these women, it made me snap.”

“So that made it okay for you to barge into the dorm at 1am and scream at me?!” Jaehyun rebutted, staring deep into her eyes. “You embarrassed me and wouldn’t let me get a word in. You called me a coward and accused me of cheating on you. God Y/N, I would never do that to you. I love you and respect you too much to lose your trust like that.”

Y/N looks down, twiddling her fingers once more, tears falling down her cheeks. He moves closer to her, wiping more tears from her eyes and lifting up her chin.

“Do you still love me?”

Y/N looks at him, her eyes already telling it all before she could answer.

“Yes, Jae, I love you,” she confesses. “I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.”

Jaehyun’s heart flutters at her soft words, and a wave of relief washes over him. It felt good to hear that she still loved him after all these months have passed, and caught up in the moment, he kisses her deeply.

“I’m sorry, he apologizes, giving her space. “I should have asked if that was okay.”

“It’s okay,” she says softly, gazing at him lovingly. “Kiss me again.”

(𝐘/𝐍’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕)

Jaehyun kisses you, and it feels like home, like you finally found the missing piece to your puzzle of your soul. You give into him completely, sliding your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his toned abs before taking off his shirt. You pause to gauge his response, and he smiles, whispering that he loves you and that he’s sorry. You nod and kiss him again, allowing his hands to roam around your ass before giving it a tight squeeze.

“I missed you,” he breathes in between kisses.

“Did you?” you tease him, fumbling with the button on your shorts.

He undoes the button for you and slides your jean shorts off for you, laying you down on the bed as he climbs on top of you. He holds back for a moment, admiring your beauty before continuing his onslaught of kisses, trailing down to your neck. His cool hands slide up your sweater, unhooking the front of your bra and softly rubbing your mounds. You bite your lip in an attempt to hold back your moans, the electricity sparking from each touch.

“I’m never going to hurt you again,” he promises, lifting up your sweater and revealing your breasts.

He cups them and puts them in his mouth, sucking on each nipple tentatively and with such care. Your center is dripping, and you slide your hands down to your panties, softly rubbing yourself. He takes notice of your action and trails his kisses down your stomach, nipping you lightly until his face is in between your legs. He pulls your panties to the side, taking a long swipe of your sweet nectar before diving in.

“ Oh my god,” you moan, taking a fistful of his hair.

He ravages you, lavishing his tongue at your entrance and sucking on your clit, his nail dug dip into your hip. Your moans get increasingly louder, and he slides two fingers in you, your walls already convulsing around him.

“You gotta be quiet for me, baby, okay?” Jaehyun whispers, slowly thrusting in and out of you. “I don’t want everyone to hear us.”

You nod feverishly, covering your mouth as you fall into a euphoric state, being finger fucked by the love of your life. He returns his mouth to your clit, your legs buckling on impact, your hand pulling his hair tighter. You create a rhythm on his tongue, slow fucking his face until you feel yourself reaching your breaking point.

“Baby…” you moan, your stomach coiling. “I’m almost here.”

He suddenly removes his fingers out of you, shoving down his grey sweats and revealing his hard dick, eager to be inside of you. He lifts your leg up and slams into you, making you yelp from impact.

“It’s been way too long,” he groans, slow stroking your tight cunt.

Jaehyun allows you to get used to his size before increasing his pace, the lust in his eyes evident. Your hunger for him in insatiable, begging him to fuck you harder, not caring about the bed hitting the wall loud enough to wake everyone up. You lifted up your shirt and pinched your nipples, slapping them because you knew he liked that, and you like the slight pain from it.

“You are so sexy,” his breathless praise of you makes you hotter and want more of him.

He slides his hand on your throat, holding a firm grip as he continues to plunge deep inside of you. You try your best to cover your moans with your hand, but then your stomach coils, signaling your release. You tap his shoulder feverishly, and he pulls out and flips you over, taking you from behind.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls, slamming into you with such force you almost fall off the bed.

Jaehyun grips your hair tightly, skin slapping filling the walls in the room, and he fucks you into the mattress, releasing his feelings from missing you all into this moment. He tells you he loves you over and over, and you believe him, not wanting this moment to end. You grip the sheets tightly, warning him of the upcoming rapture that was ripping through you.

“Go ahead, baby,” he encourages you. “Cum for me.”

You scream his name in the sheets, your orgasm rushing through and all over him, your insides convulsing on his dick. He shudders and pulls out shortly after, emptying himself on your ass and giving it a small smack. You collapse on the bed, your legs sore and shaking, unable to move.

“That was…” you start to say.

“Amazing,” Jaehyun finishes your sentence, leaning over and kissing your sweaty forehead.

You both laugh in unison, and you slowly sit up, admiring the physique of the man you love.

“Hey Jae,” you call him softly, holding your hand out for him to take. “I don’t want to fight like that and be away from you that long ever again.”

He nods and smiles, giving you a deep kiss before pulling you into a hug.

“Me neither, baby,” he agrees. “These months without you have been hard. I felt like a piece of me was missing.”

You gaze up at him lovingly, placing a small kiss on his lips.

“It’s about time you two made up,” Johnny’s voice comes through the door. “He’s been miserable without you.”

Jaehyun sucks his teeth and throws a pillow at the door, his face red with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” you giggle. “I’m not going anywhere.”

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arrowflier · 3 years ago

Note

do you write AUs?

because i wish you'd write a fic with magic 👀 either with both or only one of them having magic ❤️

Oh, dear sweet anon. You'd never guess it from what I've been posting, but AUs are my bread and butter, and fantasy my genre of choice. I just don't do as much of it because I care more about getting it right, and it's so much harder to convey in short glimpses.

So thank you for this, and here goes nothing! Might not be the type of magic you were thinking, but it’s where my brain ended up.

Milkovich Magic

When he's just a little boy, Mickey Milkovich is the chattiest kid on the street. He stands out front of their rundown house and waves at people passing by, tells them stories, wishes for them good things. His father hates it, but his mother thinks it's lovely. She sits next to Mickey in a broken lawn chair, taking turns smiling at her son and at the strangers and neighbors passing by, waving Terry away when he comes too close to interfering.

But she never says a word herself, unless it's to Mickey.

Until one day, when Mickey sees a family walking down the street, and waves frantically at two boys around his age, one with fuzzy brown curls, one with bright red locks. The bright boy turns toward him and smiles, and Mickey feels something shift inside himself.

"Momma," he calls back toward the house. "Did you see?"

"See what, Mikhailo?" she responds, voice oddly cautious in a way that Mickey has long since become accustomed to.

"That boy," he tells her, feeling light and happy. "He's going to be my friend."

The air shifts as the words leave his mouth, seeming to swirl around him. He shivers as it strokes against his skin, leaving a line of goosebumps in its wake, and takes a shaky breath, thinking of the boy's shy smile.

"Mikhailo, no!" his mother cries, stumbling from her seat to fall on her knees at his feet, clutching his arms with claw-like fingers. He snaps out of his thoughts and stares down at her, terrified, as the feeling leaves him.

His terror grows when his father slams open the front door and yells, "What did the boy do now?"

His mother's eyes are wide and scared on his face, but her voice is calm and firm when she answers.

"Mikhailo has done nothing," she states simply, and his skin begins to tingle again. "You noticed nothing," she adds, and Mickey watches as his father shakes his head and wanders back inside without so much as a backwards glance. Then the air is still again.

"Come, Mikhailo," his mother says next, "that's enough for today." And he follows her up the broken steps and into their home, mind whirring, trying to make sense of what happened.

“Words have power, little one,” his mother whispers to him later that night, as they sip hot chocolate in the kitchen after Terry goes to bed. The air smells of milk and burned sugar and his mother’s perfume, and her voice wraps around him like a hug, pressing her words into his skin.

“We have to be careful,” she speaks quietly. Her hand is still warm with the heat from her mug when she brushes his hair from his face, lets her palm rest on his cheek. “When the things you say become the truth, you have to choose your words wisely.”

“Like when I say you’re pretty?” Mickey asks with childish innocence, and his mother laughs, a soft tinkling sound like windchimes in the rain.

“Not quite,” she tells him with a gentle smile. “It takes intent, too.”

“Intent,” he repeats dutifully, then asks, “what’s that?”

His mother’s voice drops even further, serious and firm. “It’s the desire to make change, Mikhailo,” she says, “and it’s dangerous. You never know what path that change might take.” She sounds sad, like she does whenever his father comes home, loud and stumbling when he shoves through the door in the middle of the night. Mickey doesn’t like it.

And he doesn’t understand, either. He’s too young. Too new to the world to see how change could be a bad thing. So he agrees, like a good son does, and doesn’t argue when his mother presses a kiss to his head and sends him off to sleep in a haze of lavender and chocolate.

A few months later, when he hears his father yelling from the next room, hears the crash as his mother hits the floor for the third time that week, he dares to speak aloud the words struggling to escape his heart, despite her warnings.

“Mama is safe,” he whispers to himself in the darkness of the room he shares with his baby sister, who’s curled up against his side, face still wet with the tears that sent her into sleep. “No one can hurt her anymore.”

He knows he got it right when he can feel the wish leave him, a heavy weight lifting from his chest as his desires take form. He can feel the air, heavy with intent, as it brushes over his skin, as it moves like a summer breeze through the open window above his head, bypassing the locked bedroom door. He’s suddenly more tired than he thinks he’s ever been when it’s gone, and he falls into the most peaceful sleep he’s had in years, comforted by the knowledge that he had put change into the world.

The next morning, he wakes to his sister sobbing and pushing loose fists into his chest as she tells him that their mother is dead.

After that, he stops talking so much.

---

When Mickey is eight years old, he's the quietest boy in class. He gets a reputation as a troublemaker, refusing to answer questions or make friends, no matter the effort that others put in.

Eventually, they stop trying, and he's glad.

Until a new boy shows up, and almost ruins everything.

His name is Ian Gallagher, and the first thing Mickey notices as he walks into the room for the very first time, a worn backpack hanging from his skinny shoulder, is his hair.

It's bright red.

And Mickey remembers the day he learned what he was, the day he started down the path that killed his mother, the day that he declared to the world that the redheaded boy would be his and the world started to listen.

He wanted nothing to do with him.

So of course, Gallagher sat right behind him, and tapped on his shoulder, and asked him for a pencil. And try as he might, Mickey could not muster the intent to make him leave.

It probably wouldn't have mattered if he did, he thought. The damage had been done years ago.

But he does manage to speak. And he hears his own voice for the first time in ages outside the confines of the bedroom he still shares with Mandy. It's rough with disuse, lending an edge to his words that never used to be there.

"Ask me again, I'll stab you with it," he threatens, then stops, eyes blown wide and fearful by his own statement. But the rush of air never comes, nor that strange tingle, and all he can feel is the tickle of sweat sliding down the back of his neck.

He's so relieved he could cry.

"Are you ok?" the Gallagher boy asks, and Mickey tries to snarl, to make him back away.

"Shut up," he orders. And then he spins back around in his seat to hide his grin.

Because he can talk, after all, without causing terrible things. The trick, he knows now, is just not to mean it.

---

When Mickey is fifteen, he's loud and brash. He throws words around like they're meaningless, because to him, they are.

They have to be.

And it's working out fine, really. As long as he swallows down his feelings, keeps them locked up tight in his chest, it doesn't matter what words leave his lips.

Until, one day after school, he finally loses control.

And of course, it's because of Ian fucking Gallagher.

Because Ian keeps trying to be Mickey's friend, and Mickey knows it isn't real. He knows what he did. So when Ian joins his little league team in 4th grade, Mickey gets himself thrown out. And when Ian tries to partner with him for the 6th grade science fair, Mickey gets himself suspended instead. Every year is a new attempt, and every year, Mickey manages to shut it down.

He's ready to do it again on the first day of their sophomore year, when Ian calls his name outside the old brick school building.

"Hey, Mickey!" he tries, waving gangly arms to catch his attention. "Mickey, over here!"

Mickey studiously ignores him, like always, until he hears the smack of books hitting the ground.

"Whatcha callin' him for, eh?" comes a voice Mickey recognizes as one of his cousins. There's another rough sound, and a curse as Ian himself is pushed to the ground. Mickey's cousin laughs.

"What a pussy," he snickers. When Mickey turns around, his cousin waves him over with a wicked grin. "Ey, Mick, you know this guy?" he asks, not waiting for an answer before he nudges Ian in the side with a dirty boot. "He keeps callin' for ya, think he's got a crush or somethin'."

Ian's face is red, and his jaw is clenched, but he looks away when Mickey catches his eyes. He looks embarrassed, and maybe sad, and before Mickey knows what he's doing, he speaks from the place he always keeps under lock and key.

"You're gonna leave him alone," he rumbles, a breeze picking up behind him. "You're never gonna touch him again." A few leaves flutter at his feet as his intention builds. His cousin doesn't notice, but Ian does, and Mickey finds himself staring into emerald green eyes as he says, "You noticed nothing," just like his mother did all those years ago, and lets the words go.

His cousin blinks at him, suddenly lost, then down at Ian. "The fuck are you doing down there man?" he asks, and almost offers a hand before awkwardly pulling it back. "Eh, whatever," he mutters, and stumbles off to join the line for the bus.

"What was that?" Ian asks breathlessly, and Mickey shrugs, thumbing his nose. Inside, he's horrified by his slip, but all he says is, "nothing."

And scared or not of how it felt, that rush of cool air tingling against his skin as he spoke, he can't deny it felt good.

It feels even better when Ian smiles.

---

When Mickey is seventeen, he has a friend, and he thinks he might have to stop talking again.

Ian is around all the time, now. They sit together at school, and hang out at the Gallagher house on weekends. They go to movies, and baseball games, and tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

And deep down, Mickey knows what this is. He told the world that Ian would be his friend, and so he is. It's nothing more than that.

But when Ian starts talking about the guy he's seeing, starts blowing Mickey off to spend time with him instead, it still makes Mickey's heart hurt.

Somewhere along the line, between avoiding Ian and letting his life revolve around him, Mickey had started wanting more.

It's in those moments, sitting on the sofa with their thighs pressed together, the strawberry scent of Ian's shampoo lingering in the air around them as he waxes poetic about the restaurant his boyfriend took him to, when Mickey fights himself the most.

It would be so easy, he knows. So easy to open his mouth and let the words out. Ian, he could say, you love me. You want me. Leave him, Ian. Be with me instead.

He doesn't. He wouldn't. But he could, and knowing that kills him.

Instead, he starts pulling back. Cancels plans before Ian can. It hurts, but he does it, because Ian deserves to be free from the wish Mickey made when he was a child.

Ian notices, of course he does. He ignores it, mostly, until the night Mickey opens the door to find him standing there, sweaty and scowling.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks Mickey immediately. "Why are you shutting me out?"

Mickey swallows. "Don't know what you're talkin about," he lies, wishing desperately that it were true. He feels a zing of power go through him, but there's no escape for it; his words don't work on himself.

"Bullshit," Ian accuses, stepping over the threshold to bring them chest to chest. "Just tell me, Mick," he urges. "You know you can tell me anything."

"I can't," Mickey offers breathlessly. "I really can't, Ian."

It doesn't deter him; if anything, it makes him angrier. "What's gonna happen if you do, huh?" he challenges, shoving Mickey back until he hits the wall.

And Mickey can't take it anymore.

"I don't know!" he shouts, tearing at his hair. "I don't fucking know, Ian, ok? I've been trying not to say it for so long, I don't know what will happen if I do!"

It takes the wind out of Ian's sails; he visibly deflates. His eyes turn soft, instead of angry, and there's a quiver in his voice when he asks again. "Tell me what, Mickey?" he whispers.

Mickey won't say the words. Instead, he surges toward Ian and presses their mouths together in a rough, clumsy kiss.

It lasts only a moment before Ian pulls away, and Mickey tries not to die inside. Forces himself not to fix it. But a second later, there's a beaming grin on Ian's bruised lips, and he's saying, "is that all it was?" and leaning in again.

---

When Mickey is nineteen, he has a boyfriend, and he says what's in his heart.

They’re alone in the Gallagher house, a rare enough occurrence already, and they’re tangled together in Ian’s tiny single bed. “Ian,” he whispers when they part for breath. “Ian,” he moans as that mouth trails down his neck and behind his ear, pressing kisses in its wake. “Ian,” he cries out as he clenches fingers in bright red hair, holding on for dear life as they rock together.

“Fuck, I love you Mick,” Ian murmurs against his heated skin, and Mickey stops still.

It takes a minute for Ian to catch on, another for him to pull back, eyes questioning and nervous. “Is that okay?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Mickey licks his lips, and tries the words out himself, like a dare. “You love me,” he whispers, eyes locked on Ian’s own.

Nothing happens.

There’s no shift in the air around them, no new goosebumps beyond the ones Ian caused himself. There’s no weight in Mickey’s chest trying to get out.

There’s just Ian.

Ian, with his copper hair shining in the light from the window. Ian, surrounding him in the scent of strawberrie shampoo and sweat and cheap cologne from the corner store that he only wore when they were together. Ian, who was watching hi, waiting, biting his red bottom lip and trying not to move.

Mickey laughs, and pulls him closer, kissing him again, feeling Ian smile with relief against his lips. “You fucking love me,” he repeats, just because he can. The words can’t change something that’s already true. “I fucking love you too,” Mickey says.

And he does.

#daily speedwrite #<-still calling it tgat even though it took forever #because if it wasn't I'd completely redo it before sharing #gallavich #fanfic #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #fantasy au #fic request #i just got home I'm so tired😭#I hope it's vaguely coherent #tw:domestic abuse

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tomtenadia · 3 years ago

Text

Blind mistake

Rowaelin month - day 8

So, this fic was fighting me at the beginning. as I started, deleted and restarted a million times.

Then slowly the idea came and here it is. What I was not expecting was to write a A Little Braver AU.

Aelin and Rowan meet under different circumstances and are two different people from thee actual story. Aelin is still the captain at east station and Rowan still the airforce captain.

Yes, this is a happier fic but as Aelin said in KoA... she loved Rowan because it was him, the man who had known pain as deep as hers.

IN order to enjoy this fic you do not need to have read ALB. A part from Pete popping up for a brief second at the end, this is a complete stand alone story and no knowledge of ALB is needed.

Rowan sighed. His love life sucked so much that he ended up using a dating app. Since Lyria dumped him a year before he had been struggling to go back in the game. He had been on a few dates but so far none of the women he met had sparked his curiosity. Far too bland and with almost no personality or far too bothered by looks. Some of them had been downright stupid and he had been a gentleman and played along when all he wanted to do was run away screaming. The last nightmare had been a woman called Remelle who Lorcan had recommended to him. He had to feign food poisoning and pay the chef to let him escape from the back of the restaurant to flee the monster. He had paid the bill sneakily, and once home he had insulted Lorcan and his poor taste in women.

Now he was again in a restaurant, ready for probably another fiasco. He and the woman had chatted a bit and she had seemed interesting so he had dared to ask her out and she had accepted. On the paper it was all good. In reality he was getting ready for another crazy escape. Maybe he should just give up and live alone and become a grumpy old man.

He had a kingsflame on the table near him, their code to recognise each other at the restaurant. The fact that they knew very little about each other made him nervous. It was a recipe for disaster. He knew she was a personal shopper and that she liked movies and music. He was really dreading the encounter now, and started to realise that perhaps it had been a mistake. She could have lied.

Until he raised his head and he noticed the woman who had just entered the restaurant. He then spotted the flower pinned on her green dress as they had agreed. Gods, the woman was way too hot for him. There was a catch somewhere. His heart raced when realisation dawned on her face and she waved and started to walk to him. The smile. Damn, the smile could stop a man’s heart. The woman walking toward him was a goddess. He was expecting her to turn away for another table until she sat down in front of him at his table. Rowan was speechless.

“Sorry, I am late. Accident on the ring road. I stopped to give a hand to west station.” She used her hand to brush off the smudge of grease he had only just noticed she had.

“You stopped?”

“Yes,” she looked at him with a strange light in her eyes “I am a firefighter. I am the captain at east station.”

Rowan blinked twice. Shit. She was the wrong woman. She was not here for him. Of course. It was too good to be true. She had sat at the wrong table and a part of him was sad.

“I am Aelin.” she said and he knew that it had dawned on her as well that he was not her date “You are not Chaol.”

Rowan shook his head “I am Rowan.”

“Holy shit. I saw the kingsflame. The restaurant. And you smiled at me when I came in. I just assumed...” He did not want her to go.

“Ach, I was having second thoughts anyway.” He shrugged.

In that moment the waiter came and they were hesitant for a moment then Aelin grabbed the menu and started ordering, surprising him. Rowan got some wine for both and they placed as well their order.

“Our dates are late anyway. Maybe stuck in the horrendous traffic out there.”

“You will not hear me complain.” Said Rowan with a smile “so, you stopped and helped?”

Aelin nodded, sipping a bit of her wine “I couldn’t resist it. West station was there but there were so many cars involved that I had to something. The traffic wasn’t moving anyway.”

Rowan could not believe the woman in front of him. Not only she was a goddess. She had even stopped to help her colleagues save people from a car crash on her way to a date. Where had she been all his life?

The waiter came with their order and smiled at the expression of joy when Aelin looked at the amount of food in front of her. Another point for her. She had an appetite. He had no need of another date ordering a boring salad. He was a healthy eater but loved a woman with an appetite, especially because he loved cooking.

“So Rowan, what do you do?” She asked him while tackling the gigantic prawn on her seafood tagliatelle.

“I am an airforce pilot. I am a captain.”

Her face lit up “as in the uniform and all? And the awesome planes?”

Rowan nodded.

Aelin was about to take another sip of her wine when two figures stopped at their table. A brown-haired man and a blonde woman. Both had a kingsflames pinned on their dresses.

“Excuse me but you are with my date.” Said the stranger.

Rowan looked up from his risotto “finders keepers.”

“And he is my date.” Said the woman in a shrill voice.

“What he said.” Added Aelin while eating another prawn.

“We got stuck in traffic. There is a massive road accident on the ring road.” Chaol complained, not letting it go.

“Yeah I know. I stopped to help and I still made it here before you.”

“So what does this mean?” Asked Chaol.

Aelin stared at Rowan. It was a no brainer. Chaol was cute but Rowan was sex on two legs. Between the silver hair and the green eyes he ticked all of the boxes. And he was a pilot. Chaol was an accountant.

“You two can go on a date together.” She suggested and hoped they took the hint.

“That is rude.”

“Oh shoot,” said Aelin covering her mouth in fake surprise “I must have left the fucks I have to give in my bunker gear.”

Chaol looked at her aghast. The blonde woman turned on her heels and left.

“You missed an opportunity.” He added before he left as well.

As soon as he left Rowan burst into laughter and she joined him “no fucks to give…” he said trying to catch his breath “I have to steal this when my CO drives me nuts.”

“Ansel, one of my firefighters, she taught me that.”

“It’s fucking perfect.”

And both resumed their dinner without the awkwardness of a blind date. No stupid questions like how many siblings do you have or what is your favourite colour. No, with Rowan there had been a connection from the start and the joke had been the final proof.

“Most guys would have left running at my joke. I have a big and foul mouth. Not very lady-like.” She apologised. “I work in a male dominated place. Apart from Ansel and my two paramedics, I am surrounded by guys and well, they are not easily scared.”

Rowan chuckled “I am in the military. My CO uses fuck you as a term of endearment and one of my lieutenants has the record for the most innuendos in a sentence.”

“How many?” Asked Aelin curios.

“Ten.”

“No friggin’ way.”

Rowan nodded solemnly. Then looked at her and he was glad she sat at his table mistaking him for another man. They had known each other only for twenty minutes but he was dumbstruck by the woman.

She was fierce, intelligent and with a wicked sense of humour.

The meal had been perfect. Aelin had polished every single plate in front of her and also ordered dessert. And when she offered to pay for half the bill he had smiled. He had plenty of dates where the woman didn’t even offer. She took it for granted that he, being the man, was the one paying. He had no issues with that, he was happy to pay, but the fact that Aelin offered made him realise that she was different.

They left the restaurant and he gasped when he saw a red pickup reading Terrasen fire department on its livery, parked just outside the restaurant.

“Way to scare the patrons away.” He joked.

“Sorry. Yesterday I took a lift to work from a colleague and I forgot for a moment that I had a set the date for tonight after my shift. So I grabbed my work pickup to get here. I need to go back to the firehouse and return it.”

“I’ll follow, you drop off the pickup and then I drive you home.”

“I can take a cab, you don’t have to come all the way to the station and back.”

“Humour me,” he said giving her a beautiful smile and she accepted.

Ten minutes later they were at east station and she parked the pickup in its corner at the side and out of the way.

She saw Rowan getting off the car.

“Welcome to east station.” She said extending her arms. She pushed a button and the rolling doors slid up and two big trucks appeared in front of him. He had always wanted to see one up close.

“Cap,” said a man at her back “what are you doing here? I thought you were on a date?” He smiled “that bad? I told you accountants were a bad idea.”

Aelin laughed “looks like I got myself an airforce pilot instead.” She winked at him and Rowan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll tell you next shift, Pete. I just brought back the pickup before Dorian kills me.”

She waved at her relief captain and followed Rowan in his car and told him her address.

While he drove she studied him. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans, a shirt and a black leather jacket. She should have guessed he was military. Aedion had the same posture and he was ex-army.

“Which house?” Asked Rowan, waking her up from her thoughts.

“The one with the blue door.”

He parked and walked with her up to the door “I had so much fun tonight,” she said to him, not wanting him to leave her.

“I am so glad that you sat at the wrong table. This was the best blind date ever.” He looked at her and wanted to kiss her so badly but they had just met and he did not want to pass a a pig.

She moved a step toward him “I am glad too.” And her lips brushed his cheek in a kiss “perhaps we could go on a proper date. One where we are actually meant to meet each other.”

Rowan sighed relieved “It would make me very happy.”

Aelin rummaged in her bag until she found a pen then grabbed his wrist and pulled up his cuff a bit and wrote down two numbers.

“The first one is my personal mobile number. The second one is the direct number to my office. I am known to leave my mobile in my bunker gear.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know a date and if I am not free we can find a better one. Us firefighters have crazy long shifts so I need to be off.”

He took her pen and her wrist and wrote his number “then you text me. A day that you are off shift. I work regular hours. This makes more sense.”

He took a step down from the few step and she hated the idea of him leaving.

“Goodnight, Rowan.” She opened the door and looked at him one last time.

Rowan waited for her to disappear behind the door and then went back to his car and was grateful for the best blind mistake of his life.

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin #fluff

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lazywonderlvnd · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, if you are still taking prompts; A magically powerful Harry not noticing that his magic does things to make Draco happy. This can be pre-relationship or established relationship. Like it starts of with his tea being exactly as he likes and always the right temperature. Then evolves to rooms changing colour or weather changing or people being unable to invade Draco’s personal space due to an invisible barrier or something ridiculous. Btw Draco doesn’t notice as well.

anon.....you really killed me w this one. i’ve been so emo over this wyugeahrwiw might end up writing smth longer tbh bc this concept is literally the only thing that matters to me!!!!!!! i hope u enjoy i had so much fun with it ❤️❤️❤️

“Harry, you do it. Please.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“We’re fucking watching something, Draco!”

“So just pause it!”

Harry grabs the pillow on his lap and slams it onto the sofa next to him. Hermione can see dust rise in its wake. He pauses the telly.

“Are you doing it?” Draco asks hopefully. Harry scowls at him.

“Well you won’t shut up until I do, will you?”

“Definitely not.”

Harry disappears into the kitchen and Draco sits there looking smug.

“It’s kind of sick how you get off on bossing him around,” says Ron, his tone one of simple observation. His fingers are idly playing with Hermione’s hair, but she doesn’t think he notices he’s doing it.

“If I’m not mean to him a few times a week I break out in a rash, Weasley,” Draco says blithely. “Besides, he makes it perfectly. I don’t know how he does it, it’s always exactly the right temperature and sweetness and all that. I s’pose his years as a house-elf for those Muggles gave him plenty of time to perfect the art.”

“You’re a twat,” says Ron. “And my mum makes tea better than him.”

“Well you’re just a pitiful little mummy’s boy, aren’t you, Weasley? We can hardly trust your opinion.”

“Hark who the hell’s talking,” Ron scoffs. “Least I’m not twenty-three and still calling my mum ‘mummy’ like the world’s biggest bloody ponce.”

Draco splutters but before he can retort Harry’s coming back into the room hovering four cups of tea that float placidly to each of them. Draco looks exactly like a satisfied cat as he takes his and Harry drops back down onto the sofa next to him. Not too close, but certainly not too far, either.

“Literally exquisite,” Draco declares after he’s taken a sip. Ron rolls his eyes.

“It’s just tea, Draco,” says Harry, and he grabs for the remote to turn the film back on. “You’re such a demanding little brat. Merlin’s fucking tits.”

But Draco looks happy and Harry looks suspiciously content as well. Ron turns to her and makes a silent gagging face. Hermione snorts and puts a finger to her lips. They’ve decided not to say anything yet.

“Wasn’t this place a lot … uglier last time?”

“What?” Harry says absently. He’s not listening — he’s got all his attention zeroed in on a stack of parchment he’s holding. They’d only barely dragged him along to lunch; earlier the captain of the English National Team had apparently owled him a great number of brand-new Quidditch plays and required Harry’s extensive thoughts and notes before their next practise, which was tomorrow morning.

“Uglier,” Draco says emphatically, and Ron mutters something she doesn’t catch. “Remember? The walls were that tragic egg-yolk colour.” He shivers. Hermione thinks it might have been an honest-to-god shiver of revulsion. She also thinks she knows what’s happened, even though the extent of it surprises her.

“Maybe someone heard you whingeing and changed it,” Ron apparently can’t stop himself from saying with a snigger. Hermione elbows him hard and he shoots her a glare, mouthing, he doesn’t know!

Harry would usually be the one to take the lead and get them a table when all four of them go out to eat together but today he’s too wrapped up in his Quidditch plays, so Ron steps forward and does it, which makes Hermione’s chest flutter pleasantly. He’d blush down to his bones if she ever said it aloud but he’s quite capable of being a leader in Harry’s absences.

“Whatever happened,” says Draco pointedly as they’re led to their table, “it’s a great bloody blessing, I was genuinely unsure I’d have the mental fortitude to survive another assault like that on my delicate senses. And, I mean, this —” he gestures to the walls, which are now an admittedly pleasing dark teal above a white trim “— is stunning. It’s my favourite colour.”

“Is it? So weird they picked your favourite colour completely by coincidence,” Ron says, and Hermione elbows him again. Draco notices nothing and neither does Harry, although he does finally set the plays aside once they’re seated at the table.

“Are you complaining about the wall colour again?” he asks drily. They would both be extremely displeased to know they sound like an old married couple. Draco snatches haughtily at the paper napkin on the table and unfolds it to place over his lap. The first time he’d ever done this at a regular, decidedly not upscale restaurant Ron had taken it upon himself to spend the entire meal adopting a posh accent to match Draco’s and saying things to the waiter like “Don’t you have crystal?” while holding up a glass cup full of Pepsi and then commenting “These aren’t real silver, you know” after making a show of inspecting the titanium utensils.

“I can complain about hideous design choices if I want to,” Draco tells Harry with his nose in the air. “Thankfully they’ve rectified it this time.”

On the other side of the restaurant, Hermione sees two employees talking, one of them gesturing at the wall with utter bewilderment. She doesn’t point it out.

“Twelve o’clock,” says Ron, nodding past Draco’s shoulder. “Some bloke staring you down hard, Malfoy.”

Draco looks excitedly behind him, but what Hermione takes more notice of is the way Harry’s face falls a little. She can’t help but wonder if he even realises it’s happened. She’s almost certain he’s aware of his feelings for Draco even though he still hasn’t said anything to her (and she’s been waiting months now, the effort of holding her tongue growing only more difficult by the day, and she knows Ron’s always seconds away from shouting at him) but she doesn’t think he knows how obvious he is. Draco doesn’t seem to know either, but she thinks that’s because Draco feels exactly the same way. She’d have called them morons, but she remembers too well how long it had taken her and Ron.

“What the fuck, Weasley,” Draco hisses, turning back around with a scowl that makes Ron laugh and Harry perk up again a little bit. “He looks like he hasn’t washed his hair in weeks.”

“Now, now,” says Ron, “mustn’t judge books by their greasy covers.”

“Then you go shag him if you think he’s so fit.”

“Maybe I will,” Ron says airily, as if he really is considering it, and Hermione can’t help chuckling and kissing his cheek. Then his expression changes to one of wicked amusement, which makes all of them look round to see the bloke coming their way. Hermione glances at Harry to find that — oh yes, he looks flustered and vaguely upset.

“Hullo,” says the greasy bloke to Draco as he comes up beside him at their table. He’s really not terrible-looking, but if she’s learned anything about Draco in the last couple years it’s that his standards amount to models and Harry Potter, so this man has almost no chance.

“Hello,” Draco drawls, reminding her fiercely of his younger self at Hogwarts. “I’m not interested.”

“Right little narcissistic bugger, aren’t you?” the man says. And now, finally, he’s begun to look as revolting to Hermione as he’d done initially to Draco — a repellent personality can do that. “Maybe I just wanted to come and have a chat.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at any of the rest of us?” Ron asks, sounding halfway between amused still and a little put off.

“Can you leave, please?” Draco interjects, cringing away from the man encroaching slowly on his personal space. And suddenly, as he looks on the verge of antagonising Draco further, he shifts his feet and slips, landing right on his bum with a yell of surprise. All four of them get to their feet to see, but there doesn’t seem to be any liquid or even slimy food for him to have tripped on.

“The fuck ...?” the man says, getting back to his feet. But when he moved towards Draco, he only slips again, on absolutely nothing at all. Something clicks and Hermione looks at Harry: he seems as confused as anyone else (if obviously pleased).

She looks at Ron then, who catches her eye and lifts his brows like he’s thinking the same thing.

Draco’s suitor gets up once more and steadies himself, looking a bit dazed. Some deep animal instinct seems to tell him to stop trying, and with a wary glance at Draco he finally leaves.

“Well that was a bit of a fucking scene,” says Harry. Draco, coming out of his own startled daze, laughs.

“Yeah,” Ron says sarcastically, “wonder what could’ve possibly happened.”

“I really thought it was going to rain,” Draco mopes where he’s standing at the window. It’s grey outside but it definitely doesn’t look like rain and Draco appears so upset about it that Hermione actually feels badly, even though she’s quite glad for the clear weather.

“Just shut the curtains,” Ron suggests from his place on the floor. He’s sorting through Harry’s collection of VHS tapes, trying to decide on a good Halloween movie. Not that he’s ever seen any of them, and Hermione suspects he’ll end up choosing whichever cover he likes best.

“It’s not the same!” Draco wails. “The thunder and lightning is all part of it, you uncultured pillock! The atmosphere is all wrong.”

“It’ll be just as good when we shut off all the lights and draw the curtains,” she assures him, but it doesn’t remove the look of disappointment from his face. It’s a pouty sort of thing that echoes the brattiness of his youth; she imagines a five-or-six-year-old Draco giving his parents similar looks when he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

At that moment the front door opens and Harry walks in carrying two grocery bags, one of which contains alcohol, which Hermione can tell by the way the plastic is bulging around the cans.

“The fuck are you all doing here?” he says by way of greeting.

“You said eight o’clock, fuckhead,” Ron tells him without looking up. “But it’s fine, I’ve had time to pick a film and Malfoy’s had time to moan about the weather.”

“What’s wrong with the weather?”

“I wanted a storm!”

At that exact moment, a flash of lightning lights up the sky behind Harry where he hasn’t even closed the door yet. Seconds later a downpour begins, and then there’s a rolling crash of thunder.

Hermione’s eyes widen and once more she finds Ron’s gaze, who looks about as shocked as she feels. Draco, meanwhile, has his hands over his mouth and looks like a child on Christmas morning.

For the first time since his magic had begun picking up on Draco’s wishes and granting them of seemingly its own accord, Hermione sees Harry look suspicious. He peers behind him at the storm suddenly raging outside his house before slowly closing the door. When he turns back he looks directly at Hermione, who looks away quickly.

They set up the food Harry had gotten — all kinds of Halloween-themed sweets — and once everyone has their drinks (“Make mine,” Draco tells Harry, “you do it best”) and is comfortable on the two sofas in the room (Harry and Draco are, as usual, as close to each other as they can get without actually touching) they start the movie: The Thing, which Harry swears is one of the greatest horror films of all time.

Funny thing is, an hour and a half into it she looks over and, with a jolt, realises the two of them are kissing half-covered beneath a blanket. She elbows Ron, who positively beams when he notices.

“Fucking finally, dear sweet Merlin,” he whispers, the sound muffled by the continued rain and thunder. “I nearly hit him upside the head when he made it rain, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Shh!” Hermione hisses, though she’s smiling. “They’ll hear you. We’ll rag him about it tomorrow.”

A soft sound of laughter comes from the other sofa that Hermione identifies as Draco’s, and when she risks another peek after a moment she sees that Harry has a hand on Draco’s jaw, and that he’s smiling.

#anna writes #this prompt rly sent me into a tailspin of emotion #Anonymous

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fanmoose12 · 4 years ago

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Are you still taking prompt? If you do, I have a request. Hange lives beside Mikasa's house. Levi saw her when he was forced to babysit Mikasa, his cousin, for a day. After that, Levi is really attracted to Hange, he even offered to babysit Mikasa (which he never did before) to see Hange. Levi is that tsundere guy who tends to do stupid things to get his crush attention. He even told Mikasa to accidentally get lost to Hange house so that he has an alibi to talk to her. The rest is up to you 😂

"Mikasa, please."

"No."

"Mikasa, I'm-" he was well above begging, but- "I'm asking you."

Mikasa's dark eyes peered into his. Levi didn't like the look inside them. The annoying brat lifted the corners of her lips, and Levi bit down a curse. If he ever dared to curse in front of his cousin, she'd rat him out in no time. She would tell her mother, or worse, his mother. He still hadn’t forgotten the previous lecture about proper behavior in the presence of children.

"If I help you..." Mikasa twirled a lock of her hair, looking far too innocent for Levi's taste. With Mikasa, innocuous face always meant trouble. "What will I get out of it?"

Kenny's influence in action, Levi thought grimly. Maybe, he should talk with Mikasa's parents about him. Obviously, the fucker wasn't good for their daughter.

Looking at Mikasa, Levi sighed. "I'll buy you an ice-cream."

"Mm," Mikasa raised her gaze to the celling, pressing a finger to her mouth. For a moment, she appeared to be deep in thought. Levi was already starting to celebrate his victory. But then-

"No," she declared. "Ice cream is not enough."

Levi swallowed down a "greedy brat" and offered, "I'll take you to the cinema."

Mikasa grimaced. "I don't want to go to the cinema with you."

Levi closed his eyes, counting to ten. He was going to refrain from calling his cousin a fucking nuisance. Otherwise, his mother would have his head.

"Fine," he grunted, glaring at her. Mikasa met his eyes with an equally dark expression. "What do you want?"

Mikasa smiled, as though she was waiting for this question since the very beginning of their negotiation.

"You're going to let me stay at your place. And you're going to let me invite Eren and Armin for a sleepover. And you're going to buy us as many snacks as we want."

"Oi-" Levi started only to be interrupted by Mikasa.

"Do you want me to bring Hange-san here or not?"

"...Yes."

Mikasa outstretched her little hand to him. "Do we have a deal then?"

Levi accepted his defeat with a long sigh. "We do," he answered, shaking her hand.

His plan was simple - stupid, Mikasa had called it, but what could that brat know - and Levi was confident in its success.

"That's all I have to do?" Mikasa asked. "Just go to Hange-san's house?"

"And tell her that you're lost." Levi reminded.

"You know that Hange-san is smart, right? She would never believe in this."

"Convince her then."

"But-"

"I'll let you pick any movie you want. And you can stay up all night."

Mikasa narrowed her eyes. "This is manipulation."

Levi shrugged. He was not above exploiting his cousin. And he wasn’t ashamed of it.

"Just do your job,” he instructed.

"Fine!" Mikasa stomped her feet, giving him a look so dark Levi was actually impressed. "I'll do it. But you have to promise that you won't bother us during the sleepover."

Levi rolled his eyes, for the thousandth times cursing his cousin. Why in the world she was so goddamn difficult, girls her age should be polite and timid, not so disrespectful and greedy. "Cross my heart and hope to die," he gritted through teeth. "Now go."

***

Glued to the window, Levi intently watched the street, waiting to see Mikasa's gloomy face and - hopefully - the pretty face of her neighbour, Hange Zoe.

Levi had met her a month ago, during the weekend that he was once again forced to spend babysitting his annoying cousin. He was trying to teach Mikasa how to ride a bike, when he saw her for the first time - Hange Zoe was tending to the small garden on her front lawn. Wearing denim overalls and a straw hat, with a soft smile on her pretty, round face, she was a sight Levi couldn't tear his gaze off.

He spent an embarrassingly long moment, staring at her, until Hange finally took notice of him and Mikasa. She greeted his cousin with a wave of a hand, beckoning her to come closer. Reluctantly - Levi wasn't sure if the invitation included him too - he followed after Mikasa.

And that's when he learnt her name. And found out that Hange wasn't tending to a garden, but was actually picking insects for her pet tarantulas. That's when all hope was lost for him.

Hange Zoe was weird. She was messy. She was wild.

And Levi didn't believe in love at first glance, but- ever since that day he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He came to babysit Mikasa next week, and then a week after that. And soon what wasn't love at first sight quickly turned into an insufferable crush that left Levi feeling like he was turning into pathetic, lovesick fool.

He was thinking about Hange at work and at home. He was thinking about her during breakfast, lunch and dinner. He couldn’t get away from her even in his dreams. Hange took residence in his mind, stubbornly refusing to leave.

Every time they talked - Levi felt like the biggest idiot in the world. When Hange looked at him, his face burned. When she smiled, his heart was racing and his thoughts were turning into a mash.

Once Hange touched his hand, and Levi thought he was going to faint.

Being close with her was awful, being apart - felt even worse. That's why he had to request the help of his cousin. As annoying as she was, Mikasa was Levi's only link to his crush.

Staring at the empty lawn, Levi tapped his foot impatiently. What was taking Mikasa so long? Hange lived just across the street.

Levi swept his eyes across the road again and- hurriedly backed away from the window, closing the curtain.

Mikasa was almost next to the door. And with her was Hange.

Levi desperately tried to calm his wildly beating heart. It refused to listen to his order. He took a shuddering breath and the doorbell rang. He rushed to answer it.

"Hello!" Hange chirped, as he opened the door.

Their eyes met, and Levi felt his knees turn to jelly.

"Hi," he echoed quietly.

"This is kinda awkward," Hange chuckled, the sound like a music to Levi's ears. "But I found your cousin sitting on my doorstep? Mikasa said she was lost?" she laughed again, rubbing her neck. "We've been neighbours for years, don't know how that's possible..."

"He made me do it," Mikasa pointed at Levi, a wicked glint in her eyes. "He wanted to talk to you, Hange-san, but couldn't find a reason."

Mikasa was gone as soon as she finished. She ran past Levi and rushed upstairs. He watched her disappear, a thousand curses at the tip of his tongue. Cousin or not, he was going to murder the brat.

"Um, Levi?" Hange's voice distracted him from thinking where he could hide the body. "Did Mikasa-"

"She's an idiot." Levi glowered.

"So that was..."

This was it, Levi decided. Hange gave him a perfect opening. He was either going to confess his feelings or he was going to live out his days as a lonely, pathetic coward. The time has come, now he had to gather all of his courage and-

"Mikasa is very bad at pranks."

...And he was going to die as a coward.

"Oh, alright," Hange nodded, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "I'll go then... If Mikasa was lying and you don't wish to hang out together..."

Oh what a sympathetic, kind person. She was giving him a second chance. Would he be able to use it?

Levi pictured Mikasa's wicked smile and all of the mocking he would have to go through if she finds out that he wasted a perfect opportunity to confess. It gave Levi the strength and resolve he so badly needed.

He took a deep breath, looked Hange in the eyes and-

"Mikasa wasn't actually lying," he whispered.

Instantly, maintaining eye contact became too arduous of a task, and Levi shamefully lowered his gaze.

He thought of closing the door in her face and then changing his name to move to another country, but then- Hange gingerly touched his arm. Her hand was warm and her skin was soft. Levi was dangerously close to swooning.

“Wanna go to my place?” she offered, and Levi thought that if Hange asked, he’d follow her to the ends of Earth. “I can introduce you to Sawney and Bean?”

“Sawney and Bean?”

“My pet tarantulas!” Hange proudly answered.

Levi hated spiders. Just the thought of their small hairy legs made him shudder and squirm. But- it was Hange who was asking, and he was sick of being a coward.

Besides, what was a spider compared to speaking about his feelings? A walk in a park...

“Just let me grab my jacket,” he told Hange.

The smile she gave him as an answer was bright enough to blind him.

Maybe, he’ll put off Mikasa’s murder for a while.

#this had been sitting in my asks for too long...#sorry for being so slow anon! but the prompt is really gold #levihan

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dreamcatcherjiah · 3 years ago

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Tight Hearts | JHS Part 12

💞Tight Hearts (Idol!Hoseok x Reader)

Plot: The red string of fate was visible when our grandparents were children. They would play around, following the strings from one person to their soulmate and laugh happily when these two people inevitably found each other. It was a reason for happiness. But little by little, people stopped seeing the threads. In bad times, it was dangerous, it was a liability, so people stopped seeing them to protect each other from harm. When I was born, nobody saw them anymore, they just felt their soulmate. Anxiety, happiness, sorrow, love, the hearts of the soulmates are one, feel the same things, but it is almost impossible to find your soulmate, now that the threads cannot be seen.

Tight Hearts Masterlist

Part 12

A/N: AND SO IT BEGINS! The first of my July updates guys! I hope you guys liked this part as much as I loved writing it! Let me know your thoughts!🥺♥️ If you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask!

Three weeks later.

Sitting in the kitchen island with your laptop open and your work email mocking you from the screen, you pulled your hair and you wondered what, apart from Hyejin, was keeping you working for that company.

After some nasty negotiations with your boss by BigHit’s lawyers, you had been allowed to work from home while the situation normalised itself and you could be on the oposite side of town away from Hoseok without feeling pain. If you had known the middle aged man who called himself the soul of the company and took advantage of your absence would spam your mailbox with thousands of emails a day, you wouldn’t have had second thoughts about quitting. Damn the company and damn getting paid, you would think about finding a job using the time you were wasting answering all those emails. But no, you were a very headstrong woman and you would be damned if all the efforts you had put into securing that job went down the drain because you had happened upon a patronising asshole of a boss.

You let your head fall to your hands. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, Hoseok and the boys had to be in three different places throughout the day, filming advertisements, recording for their comeback and getting ready for the different end-of-the-year performances. You would have to tag along, posing as Sejin’s new shadow, manager in training he called it, so people wouldn’t be suspicious of the new addition to BTS’s entourage. According to the head manager, if you just kept a low profile and didn’t stop tapping away in your computer, no one would think to question what your were doing. But for you to be able to calmly tap away in said computer, you needed to get all the phone calls done before you left the apartment.

Some arrangements had been made so you could stay in they guys apartment the nights when there was an early schedule and Hoseok couldn’t stay with you in his own apartment. Taehyung was now Jimin’s new roommate and he had kindly (not unteasingly) offered his room for you and Hoseok to share when you simply couldn’t waste time commuting to the dorm and then the company.

You could hear the cheery voices of the boys in the living room, watching some movie about a train full of zombies on its way to Busan. How they had managed to rope Hoseok into watching the movie was beyond you but you guessed that, since you two had been spending huge amounts of time together, it made sense that now that you could stand further apart, Hoseok spent time with his brothers. Your heartbeat accelerated and that was all the warning you needed before a shrill scream that sounded suspiciously between a mixture of Yoongi and your soulmate reached you in the kitchen. Chuckling, you put your phone down and listened while holding your breath for the next round of groans and complaints. What a big bunch of babies. What you did hear were some rapid footsteps approaching you and you didn’t bat an eyelid when two slim arms snaked their way around your waist and the head of your soulmate settled on your shoulder. Hoseok had taken to hugging you from behind when you weren’t paying attention to him, the uncertainty and nerves that you felt through the bond letting you know that he was still uneasy about invading your personal space or distracting you. Every time you noticed how he was about to extract himself from you, you would hold his wrist and tighten his hold around you, nesting against his chest. This time was no different and you let go a small sigh when you relaxed against his frame, your head finding purchase on his shoulder. You let your head roll to the side, ghosting a small feather-like kiss on his ear, making him giggle.

“Why do you leave me alone with all those adrenaline-junkies, horror-movie-lovers when you are just here scowling at your computer?” He asked as he moved your bodies side to side in a playful manner. “How long do you think you still have before you can come to the living room with us?”

You raised your hand to his head and caressed his brown hair out of his eyes.

“I don’t want to be in between you and the boys, I have done that for almost a month already,” you told him, a smile tugging at your lips at how he started shaking his head no the moment the words were out of your mouth, “go back to them, I still have to make some calls.”

He disentangled himself to you and, turning the stool where you were sitting, put his hands on your shoulders. His lips formed a small pout. That was something you had started noticing as the weeks went by. He was reserved most of the time, keeping contact to the minimum and only opening up when the two of you were alone. You guessed that falling asleep one in each side of the bed and waking up in each other’s arms had something to do with his (and your) gradual openness. But when it was late and he was tired, he became clingy and tended to use his cute face to get what he wanted from you. Usually it would be to turn off the lights or to get him a glass of water from the kitchen before you went to bed; but tonight he seemed to have a different plan.

“You are not in anybody’s way, do you hear me?” He sternly chastised, waiting for your nod to continue, “the boys were the ones who asked me where you were and invited you to join us in movie night. Now, what have we told you a million and one times about not isolating yourself?” His chin up and a fake angry look on his face, he was enjoying himself way too much with the whole telling you off thing, but still, you could not just not humour him. Not when his brown hair was tossed in every direction and looked as fluffy as it did right now.

“That I am part of the family now and I have every right to be anywhere with you guys as long as I don’t hide food from you and don’t try to isolate myself…”

His face lighted up like a christmas tree and he proceded to exaggeratedly motion to your work set-up.

“And what are you doing right now?” He question, eyebrow nearly reaching his hairline.

With a cheeky grin you booped his nose and took advantage of that brief moment when his face turned all shades of red and he looked at you open-mouthed to turn back around and answer your phone as it started ringing. I am working, you mouthed to a still malfunctioning Hoseok, with a wicked smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

While you talked on the phone, you could see him look back towards the living room at the same time that a bit of uncertainty reached you through your string; at watching the movie or leaving you alone in the kitchen alone, you wouldn’t know.

Then Hoseok walked towards you, kissed the crown of your head and began cleaning the kitchen. It was a weird feeling, the both of you being in the same room, you working and him organising cabinets full of ramyeon, in companionable silence. It felt domestic. That word would have scared the living daylight out of you a few weeks ago; thinking only of the strong reactions you had when you thought that meeting your soulmate was automatically loosing your independence made your head spin. That had been only three short weeks ago, when you had been so guarded against this sweet man, who would buy four different bottles of shampoo in case he didn’t buy one you liked, the man who would put his life upside down for you, going as far as spending every possible night in his own apartment away from his brothers in case you felt uncomfortable living with seven men. You knew that somewhere deep down, he felt guilty for keeping you from your life as it was before you found him, he sometimes felt violent when some gesture or caress felt more a produce of the bond than natural and genuine. He felt sad when he had to say goodbye to his brothers when the managers dropped them off at night, and felt imposing when you had to follow them around to three or four different schedules in a day. In fact he had been mulling over that last one for the past few days; it wasn’t as if you could read his mind, you had just learned to map his emotions and the second he started looking at you sideways and feeling anxious you knew it was because of the busy schedule they had the next day.

Voices distracted you from your musings and you focused on how two sets of footsteps neared the kitchen accompanied by two hushed voices.

“… but I don’t want to interrupt her, hyung. She is working and that is her first priority…” whispered Yoongi.

“Well, if you had been a bit longer around her instead of being buried under your huge pile of self-imposed work, you would know her boss is an a-hole,” answered Jin. They were not walking anymore, they had stopped near the kitchen entrance, thinking they were whispering low enough for you not to hear them. You couldn’t help but agree with Seokjin. “I am this close to making her quit and hiring her myself, even with our workload she would be less stressed. Now kindly shut up and help me pry those two from the kitchen and take them back to the sweet delights of watching Joon internally scream.”

Pretending not to have heard anything, you swallowed a giggle and, noticing Hoseok hadn’t realised his brothers were coming, you went back to your laptop playing the oblivious victim too.

“Oh the joys of working over-time!” Exclaimed Seokjin as a way of making their presence known and he managed to startle Hoseok into dropping the cup he was rinsing into the sink.

“I promise I tried to stop him Y/N, you can keep working,” said Yoongi, who cleared his throat and, seeing Hoseok’s frantic movements behind your back, added, “But on the other hand, since you have been working very hard these past few weeks, I think it’s time you take a small break.”

His face was a sweet confused picture, torn between his desire to let you know that you could keep working if so you wanted and the one to please Hoseok.

“Come on, you two. Hobi, drop that cup, if you keep cleaning it you’ll turn it transparent. And Y/N stop being an excuse for him to get out of watching the movie,” Jin’s eyes, gleaming with mischief moved from a fumbling Hoseok to you and you rolled your eyes.

“Let’s go, it’s about time I clocked out at…” you looked at your watch, “well, 11pm.”

Hoseok walked up to you, nerves reaching you from his side of the bond, and guided you behind his brothers to the living room where Jimin got closer to Namjoon to open up a spot for you both.

The rest of the boys didn’t even flinch when Hoseok hugged your waist and rested his head against your collarbone; they all knew Hobi needed some sort of support to get through the rest of the movie and while he might have relied in one of the boys to get that emotional help in the past, none of them seemed to care you had now become his buffer. In fact, they all seemed to be smiling happily and content when you joined them.

The movie was in full swing now and, more than once Hoseok had opted to hiding his face against your neck, letting small whimpers linger in his chest. His body was tense and you could feel his lips pouting against your neck.

To try and calm him down, maybe take his mind off the movie, you started caressing his neck with your nails. Any other person would have started giggling at being tickled, but not Hoseok. He told you one morning when you woke up with him wrapped around you with his head on your chest that when he was a child, his mother and sister would caress his arms and his chest to get him to fall asleep. Since that particular piece of information had been incorporated into your knowledge about him you hadn’t been able to use it until now; running your nails in circular motions at the nape of his neck, up behind his ears and down to his shoulders. His body slowly started unwinding and relaxing against yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin and his slowing breath lulling you slowly to sleep. You wouldn’t know who fell asleep first, but soon you were drifting off.

Hushed voices arose you from your deep sleep but too comfortable now nested under Hoseok’s arm you didn’t stir. The voices were gaining more definition as the seconds passed and becoming easier to understand.

“… and you were out hyung, like a log,” was saying Taehyung.

“I didn’t expect you to be so comfortable with her so quickly, if I am to be honest,” continued Namjoon and you tried not to tense up.

Hoseok took a deep breath and dropped a small kiss to your head.

“It’s not the bond, if that’s what you’re getting at Joons,” he told him firmly, “she is IT, guys. Her personality is brilliant, she can keep up with us, she knows just what to do when I am tired or frustrated… Just the other day she took a look at me, dropped her bag and latched herself to my studio chair with me. I just worked but she was there, steady, dependable, sweet. She doesn’t crave attention, mine or anyone else’s, she’s just happy being there. I can’t put into words what she makes me feel, but the fact that she’s my soulmate is only one more certainty for us. I can see me perfectly falling hard for her when we get to know each other more, that’s how I feel.”

Silence had fallen over the room as his brothers processed what Hoseok had just said, and you were happy enough to repeat your three word confession inside your head, not knowing Hoseok felt and reciprocated the same feelings through the bond. Verbalising is taken for granted, but you two had your own way of showing love.

Tag list: @obsessoverthesmallthings247 @mabel-k3 @tremendousminyoongi @justignoremepleaz @demonic-meatball @hadaises @littlestsweetpea28 @rjsmochii @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @gali-005 @salty-for-suga @indicisive-af @nomimits7@lysjeon @raisatarannum1234 @purplelady85 @threedecadesofawkward @valentynxmgc @acopenhagenarmy @ephyra1230 @minluvly @trashandshook @brinascorpio @trixiethebear @hobi-love @geekgirl41402 @annywaa @mirajanefairytailmage @alpacaparkaseok @bangtan-madi @preciouschimine @forget-me-notforever

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inkedstarlight · 4 years ago

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I Put A Spell On You

Summary: Nesta and Cassian hated each other. Ever since freshman year of college, he'd been nothing but a pain in her ass. Their conversations always ended in screaming matches, and they couldn't agree on a single thing. So why was Nesta so angry to see him with another girl at a Halloween party one night? Cassian quickly picks up on her jealousy and teases her about it, only further infuriating Nesta. Sexual tension, unresolved feelings, and an intense game of truth or dare ensue. Warnings: explicit language, NSFW Read it here on AO3

Lana Del Ray’s “Season of the Witch” was playing quietly in the background as Nesta put on the finishing touches of her makeup. Tossing the mascara on the counter, she took a step back to assess herself in the mirror.

Her lips were a deep red, so dark it was almost black. A golden crescent moon was painted on her forehead, her daring brows arched on each side. Stormy grey eyes were heavily lined with midnight kohl, streaks of black running down her cheeks as if she’d just dragged her acrylic nails down her face. It looked like dripping blood. A golden arm cuff in the figure of a snake curved its way around her bicep, and it was quite possibly Nesta’s favorite part of the entire costume.

And her dress? Her dress was the most elegant thing she’d ever worn. Nesta didn’t even know how to describe it, the layered fabric falling down to the floor, the sleeves black and sheer. All she knew was she felt fucking powerful.

She smirked devilishly at the reflection staring back at her. It was like looking at Hecate herself.

To put it blatantly, Nesta was a whore for Halloween. She loved everything about spooky season: witches, full moons, candy, costumes, horror movies. The frightening, dark atmosphere that ensconced her throughout the entire month of October. Not to mention it was the one of the few holidays that didn’t revolve around family-oriented activities. Needless to say, Nesta was in her element.

Emerie peered her head into the bathroom where Nesta was getting ready. Her smile was wicked as she took in Nesta. “You just took fashionably late to the next level.”

Nesta laughed at her friend’s reaction. “You’re one to talk.”

Emerie was wearing a silky, burgundy robe. It was untied, leaving her tiny black slip in full view. The delicate fabric fell just inches below her waist, and she stood impossibly straight in glittery stilettos. To top it all off, bunny ears protruded from her waves of dark hair. She was a Playboy Bunny, and she looked fucking fantastic.

“How late are we?”

Emerie checked her phone. “About an hour.”

Nesta shrugged and shot her a wink. “It’s always fun to make a bit of an entrance.”

Nesta and Emerie had been close friends since freshman year. Nesta’s roommate was seldom in their room, and Emerie’s roommate was always bringing hookups to her respective room. So, when the two became aware of each other’s unfortunate (albeit convenient) situations, Emerie began staying over at Nesta’s. She would sleep over several nights a week, and it eventually became her room too. It worked perfectly.

Now, as upperclassmen, the duo lived in on-campus apartments. Just them and Minx. AKA the tiny but fierce black cat they rescued just a year prior.

“Guess who I heard is coming?”

Nesta dropped what she was doing to look at her friend. She knew that tone. That tone was always followed by a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach.

She threw Emerie a look. “I swear to the gods if you say Cass –”

“It’s Cassian!” Emerie sang smugly, jazz hands and all.

Nesta groaned. Cassian Bechalot was the bane of her existence. He was a senior, Nesta a junior, and he’d been a pain in her ass from day one. The first day of classes in her freshman year, Nesta had been sitting in her biology lab waiting for the class to begin. Ten minutes after class started, Cassian rushed through the doors in a dramatic entrance. To Nesta’s dismay, he sat next to her. The professor then proceeded to review the syllabus, mentioning the fact that they will be assigned semester-long lab partners. By “assigned,” she meant the person sitting next to you. Nesta had barely held back her groan when Casssian smirked at her and said, “I have a feeling this is going to be my favorite class.” For the next four months, he made Nesta hate biology. Purely because she now associated it with him. Cassian made it his personal mission to annoy the living hell out of her.

Skip to sophomore year. Cassian was adamant on sitting next to her in a lecture they were both enrolled in. Nesta was minding her damn business when he’d looked over her shoulder to catch her reading fanfiction on her laptop. And of course, it wasn’t some innocent story. No, with Nesta’s luck, it had been a smutty-ass fic that was basically porn without a plot. Cassian was unable to contain his laughter, the immature child he was. The professor stopped midsentence to narrow her eyes at his disruption. Nesta remembered it clear as day.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Bechalot? Since it’s clearly a matter important enough to interrupt my class.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” Cassian had grinned. He nodded his head at Nesta, the latter of whom was red in the face from both embarrassment and anger. “But I don’t think the Mrs. would be very happy with me.”

The class had whopped, some applauding Cassian’s antics.

“Enlighten me.”

He’d shrugged given Nesta a look that said, There’s nothing I can do to stop what’s about to happen.

What a fucking liar.

“Nesta was just getting in her daily dose of fanfiction. It happened to be a particularly…” Cassian paused. The bastard paused for dramatic effect. “… risqué.”

And queue the laughter.

So that was one of many reasons Nesta couldn’t stand him. After that fiasco, countless others followed. Some fiascos were of Nesta’s doing.

What? Nesta couldn’t let him win every time. She had a couple tricks up her sleeve, too. And it’s not like she was going to let him off the hook without facing the consequences.

Emerie was convinced it was some sort of star-crossed lovers shit. She dubbed them an “enemies-to-lovers” slow burn. She was the biggest (and only) advocate for a romantic relationship to blossom between them.

But Nesta? Nesta saw it for what it was.

Pure, unadulterated hatred.

And now he was crashing the party Nesta had been looking forward to all week.

The party was at their friend’s off-campus apartment. There were going to be a lot of people there, but Nesta had seriously doubted he would be invited. At Pryth U, there was an obnoxious division between athletes and the rest of the undergraduates. Nesta loathed the cliquey dynamic. But while the athletes certainly had a reputation, she had many friends who were on the college teams. It was really only the men’s lacrosse team that lived up to their reputation, and Cassian just so happened to be the captain. Who’s surprised?

Cassian had a way of getting in her head, of fueling her already hotheaded temper. Their interactions typically ended in a screaming match. He would tell her to loosen up, and Nesta would tell him to fuck off. He’d make some raunchy joke of it, and she would go off on him. They’d have a staring contest for a couple minutes before continuing to yell obscenities at each other.

Yeah… it wasn’t pretty.

But Nesta was determined to not let it bother her. Tonight was going to be great, Cassian or not.

“Is you-know-who going to be there?” Nesta turned the conversation around, stealing a glance at her roommate.

She scowled. “I don’t know. Even if she was, she doesn’t know my fucking name.”

“You don’t know that,” Nesta countered.

Emerie gave her a pointed look.

Nesta sighed. “Okay, so she doesn’t know your name. Doesn’t mean you can’t introduce yourself tonight.”

Emerie mumbled an incoherent response.

She’d had a crush on a girl named Mor for several months now. Mor had recently transferred from a different university, and she was a fellow junior. Emerie first saw her when she was working one day at the on-campus Starbucks. Whenever Mor came in for a drink, Emerie was sure to be the one to get her order. And she always made Mor’s drink (a medium mocha latte). It was quite adorable when Emerie came home from work to gush about how Mor’s hair was particularly beautiful that day. Adorable and obnoxiously frustrating.

Nesta wasn’t big on love. Sure, her guilty pleasure included romance novels and smutty fanfiction, but that was fiction. In her own life, she hated romantic gestures, declarations of love, and physical affection. She’d never been the type to have crushes or pursue a potential suitor. After watching her parent’s marriage crumble right before her eyes, Nesta didn’t put much thought into romantic relationships. To her, it was work. It took too much effort and from what she’d seen, the outcome was never worth it.

Sometimes, Nesta wasn’t sure if she knew how to love. Sure, she loved her sisters, but that was the extent of it (with the exception of Amren and Emerie). The thought terrified her just as much as it empowered her.

There were rare moments when Nesta would see Amren and Varian laughing together and something in her would ache. For what, she wasn’t sure. Affection, love, trust, acceptance, peace, comfort. All of the above.

“Okay, are we ready to go?” Emerie called to back to Nesta, shaking her from her thoughts. She took one last glance in the mirror before turning the light off.

“Let’s do it.”

The apartment was decorated perfectly. The lights were dim, the atmosphere enticing. Nesta was impressed but not at all surprised at Amren’s immaculate skills as an interior design major. They were friends from high school, and they’d remained thick as thieves since.

The place wasn’t huge, but it had enough space for dancing and drinking and that’s all that mattered. There were probably twenty people in there. The music was dark and thrilling, the bass reverberating in Nesta’s chest as she maneuvered her way through the bodies in the basement.

She recognized most of the people here, only a few unfamiliar faces in the crowd. Amren’s boyfriend, Varian, was in a mermaid costume as he walked around offering people drinks. He caught Nesta’s eye and shot her a grin, his hands gesturing to the coconut shell bra on his chest. She shook her head and chuckled before swiping… candy corn Jell-O shots?

With a grimace, Nesta tilted her head back and swallowed the damn thing.

It was disgusting.

“Nesta!” a familiar voice yelled from behind her. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

Rhysand approached her, his strut a little less smooth than normal thanks to the many drinks he must’ve had. But when she saw him, she could barely stop herself from laughing out loud.

He was dressed as an angel. Rhysand fucking Elvert was an angel.

I’m not drunk enough for this.

He wore a white toga, his tanned chest bare for all the women and men to drool over. Cheap translucent wings protruded from his back, and a golden halo in the form of a headband hung over his head. He was giving her a cheeky smile as he stopped in front of her.

“Nesta, my best friend!” Well, that confirmed his inebriated state. “How are you? More importantly, where’s that sister of yours?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. She should have known he was going to ask about Feyre.

Her younger sister had visited Nesta several times since she started Pryth U a couple years back. They had the unfortunate luck of encountering Rhysand while Nesta was showing Feyre around campus. And of course, as Rhysand does with every living, breathing woman, he tried to woo her with his fuckboy ways. Feyre held her own, but that changed when Nesta brought her to a small dorm party later that night. When Nesta was returning from the bathroom, she found them dancing. Well, dancing was putting it nicely. There was a lot of hip movement to say the least.

After ripping them apart, Nesta threatened Rhys that if he got near her sister again, he was a dead man. Feyre, thoroughly embarrassed, had no other choice but to follow Nesta back to her dormitory. Once in her room, Nesta chastised Feyre for “fraternizing with the enemy.” Nesta had told Feyre stories about Cassian before, so she was up to date on that situation. Feyre didn’t seem to care, claiming that she didn’t even think Rhysand was that attractive.

And though Nesta knew that was a flat-out lie, she let it go.

So, when Feyre visited a semester later, Nesta was careful not to mention her visit to anyone, especially not Rhys. They weren’t friends per se, but her rivalry with Cassian made Rhysand a fixture in her life (one that she never asked for). They would chat during class or in passing, and their relationship was lighthearted. Nothing like the tension between her and Cassian. After the first time Feyre had visited, Rhysand always managed to find a way to bring her up in conversation.

But to Nesta’s dismay, Rhysand had miraculously found out about her visit. Ignoring Nesta’s threat, Rhys shamelessly tried to pursue Feyre for the second time. Even though Nesta was careful not to mention her visit, Rhysand had miraculously found out and pursued her. That time, he blatantly flirted with her right in front of Nesta. But it was more than flirting. Nesta could tell that Rhysand was acting differently than when he flirted with other girls. Nesta had been around him long enough to watch him flirt and seduce many women, and it was different with Feyre. This behavior continued every time Feyre visited, which was just five instances. Yet Rhysand seemed strangely attached to Feyre. Nesta never asked him about it… Gods forbid Rhysand Elvert becomes her brother-in-law.

“She’s great,” Nesta said truthfully. “Just started dating a new guy.”

His face fell for a fraction of a second, so quickly that Nesta could have imagined it. “Does he treat her well?”

“I’ve never met him, but from what she’s told me, yes.”

He seemed to consider this before merely nodding in response.

“Where’s that annoying friend of yours?” Nesta changed the subject.

Why do you care? Nesta could practically hear Emerie’s voice in her head. She ignored it.

“Cassian? That bastard’s somewhere in here.” Rhysand chuckled before he suddenly got excited. “Oh! You’ll never guess what he dressed as.”

Nesta gave him an unamused look. “Let me take a wild guess: the devil.”

Rhysand’s shoulders dropped and he pouted. “You take the fun out of everything.”

“Or perhaps you’re more predictable than you think.”

“Bet you can’t guess what Azriel is.”

Nesta didn’t even have to think twice. “Azriel dressed as Sherlock Holmes because he has a shred of self-respect. As opposed to you two buffoons.”

And because he told me a week ago, Nesta thought to herself.

Rhysand opened his mouth to retort, but he was quickly interrupted.

“Did someone say Cassian Bechalot?”

Nesta’s fists balled tightly at the mere sound of his voice. She plastered on a sickly-sweet smile and turned to face Cassian.

She did her best not waver at the sight of him. Even Nesta couldn't deny that Cassian was an objectively attractive man. She would never admit it, though.

His long hair was disheveled as always, a couple loose strands framing his annoyingly sharp jaw. He wore a deep red dress shirt, and the fabric looked soft as satin. Several buttons were popped to show off a broad chest and his signature golden chain. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal his inked forearms, the collar popped to show off the thick columns of his neck. And of course, red horns stuck out from the obnoxiously inflated head of his.

But what Nesta wasn’t expecting was the woman on his arm. She looked to be about their age, maybe a year younger. She too wore a devil costume but this time it was a small red dress and a face full of beautiful makeup.

Nesta’s fists tightened even more.

Cassian stopped a couple feet in front of her, his eyes slowly dragging up and down her body. Nesta crossed her arms impatiently until his piercing gaze finally met hers.

“So glad I ran into you, sweetheart," he purred at her. Gods, him and that insufferable nickname. She could choke him. "What do you think of my costume?"

“It suits you,” Nesta replied sarcastically. Then she added, “You guys make quite the couple.”

Cassian frowned, but Nesta paid no mind to him.

“Oh, we didn’t even come here together!” piped in the woman. She gave Cassian a seductive look. “But I certainly hope we’ll be going home together.”

Nesta didn’t bother to hide her distaste. It wasn’t directed toward the friendly woman, rather at the bastard at her side. The obnoxiously sexy bastard.

“Let me guess…” Cassian tapped a finger on his chin thoughtfully. Nesta made a show of rolling her eyes. “Hecate?”

What?

She hadn't expected that.

Nesta did her best to contain her surprise. “You know who Hecate is?”

“Ouch, you didn’t have to say it like that. You wound me, sweetheart.”

She raised a threatening brow. He chuckled deeply and raised his hands in surrender.

"Maybe I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

Nesta snorted. “That’s highly unlikely."

He tilted his head to the side, peering closer at her. “You’re particularly feisty today, aren’t you?”

“I swear to the gods, Cassian, I will rip your head off.”

All he did was laugh her off. If he only knew how serious she was...

Nesta was just about to walk away when Cassian turned to the woman at his side. “Arlia, can you leave us alone for a second?” he grinned mischievously. “I’ll find you after.”

Arlia giggled and nodded, dragging a finger down his arm as she walked away. Leaving Cassian and Nesta alone.

Great.

Cassian didn't waste a second, closing the distance between them. He loomed several inches above her, something Nesta detested about him. He was large, tall, purely male. Nesta got a whiff of his scent, and she hated how much she loved the smell of him. He always wore the same cologne, not enough to overwhelm but enough to leave Nesta wanting more.

Ugh. He truly was the devil incarnate.

“Is that jealousy I sense?” Cassian clicked his tongue, humor flashing in his hazel eyes.

Nesta choked at his words. "As if."

It was a weak comeback, and she knew it.

He got even closer, their bodies just inches apart now. “Why do you even care who I spend my time with, Nesta? You hate me on a good day.”

“Maybe,” Nesta countered, “that’s because you do nothing but make my life as miserable as possible.”

The temperature in the room seemed to increase several degrees as Nesta stared up at him in contempt. Something unreadable crossed his face as he raised a hand and caressed her cheek, the warmth of his fingers sending tingles to her feet.

“Why do you insist on pushing me away?" Cassian asked, searching her eyes. She was frozen, her throat constricted.

Because you terrify me.

Nesta shoved that thought deep down before she could even comprehend it, as far as it could possibly go.

"Tell me," Cassian breathed, pushing for an answer. "Is it so hard to admit that maybe I'm not as bad as you want me to be?"

Yes.

Nesta was nearly trembling, her mouth unable to form a single word. She could only stare up at him with wide eyes and parted lips as he pushed her limits.

"Is it so hard to admit that maybe, just maybe, you actually like me?"

Enough.

Nesta snapped.

“Like you? Fuck that, Cassian! You walk around campus like you’re the most desirable man on earth,” Nesta fumed, just the sight of him enough to boil her blood. “You treat women like shit, you humiliate me at least once a month, and you’re only at Pryth U thanks to some athletic scholarship.”

Her voice had gotten louder and people were definitely watching them, but she didn’t give a shit.

Cassian’s eyes darkened at her words, and he got another step closer, forcing Nesta’s back against the cool edge of the table behind her. He rested both hands on each side of her body and caged her in. She didn’t dare back down, levelling his hard glare.

“Do you think I’m desirable, Nesta?” he asked menacingly, his voice low. Quiet enough for only her to hear and demanding enough to get an answer.

Nesta suddenly became hyperaware of Cassian’s body so close to hers. She could see his chest moving up and down, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His bicep brushed against her arm sending a shot of electricity through her body.

Nesta didn’t know what to say. She could only stand there and watch as Cassian huffed out a humorless laugh after a couple moments passed.

“Do you know how hypocritical you are?” Cassian asked, pulling his body away from hers and leaving Nesta with a cold feeling. He raised his voice with frustration. “No one knows who Nesta Archeron is. No, they only know you by the ‘Ice Queen.’ You sit on your damn throne and look at everyone like they’re below you. What’s so great about you, Nesta, huh? Because I’ve known you for years and still haven’t been able to find a single redeeming quality.”

He practically yelled the last sentence. She wanted to cry, throw something at him, walk away, scream until she lost her voice. But she didn't do anything. Nesta just stared at him as everything in her shut down until she just... stopped. Numbness overtook her.

Cassian was watching her, his chest heaving. Something like regret flashed over his face.

Nesta blinked, shattering the little world her and Cassian were in, looking past him and into the adjoining room.

Everyone was staring at them with wide eyes and open mouths. The entire apartment was silent, and it was painfully clear that every single person had just heard them fight.

Just my fucking luck.

Nesta didn’t pay attention to anyone as she stormed off. As far away from him as possible.

She heard Varian tell everyone to mind their own business before blasting the music. The onlookers were happy to oblige and just like that, they were dancing without a care in the world.

Amren was leaning against the glass door that led to the outdoor patio when Nesta rushed outside for air. She heard her friend follow her from behind.

It was calmer out here, the loud bass of the music fading into the background. The moon was full, and that gave Nesta a small piece of solace.

She collapsed onto a plastic chair, her body sinking down. She didn't have to say a word as Amren held out a bottle of Tito's.

Nesta took it from her and didn’t even think as she took several gulps of the vodka. Her throat burned with every swallow, eyes watering. She took a final swig and gave it back to Amren, wiping her mouth and grimacing.

“So…” Amren started, glancing over at Nesta who was looking down at the ground. “Should we talk about what just happened in there?"

"No."

Amren got quiet and the two simply sat in silence. Nesta closed her eyes, relishing the cold breeze that washed over her face. She could smell the remnants of a bonfire from Amren's neighbors next door. After a few minutes, Amren straightened and held her hand out to Nesta.

“C’mon. We’re gonna dance.”

It wasn't a question. And Nesta wasn't about to say no and risk getting into an argument with Amren. Gods knew how taxing that would be. Anyway, the alcohol was already beginning to course through her blood. She would be on the dance floor in the next twenty minutes either way.

As Nesta took Amren's hand and retreated back inside, a feeling of euphoria began to enter her body. She happily invited it.

Nesta didn’t know how long they danced for. Long enough for her hair to stick to the back of her neck and her throat to be parched. Long enough for "Toxic" by Britney Spears to have played enough times and gotten stuck in her head.

But not long enough for her to forget about the events that took place just minutes prior to downing that vodka.

She signaled to Amren that she was going to get some water. Her friend only nodded her head and continued rolling her hips to the beat.

As Nesta poured herself a cup of water, she scanned the room. She scanned it until she found who she was looking for.

Nesta locked eyes with Cassian from across the room. She hadn't been thinking of him much as she and Amren danced to every song that played. He was on the outskirts of the dancing crowd. Him and Arlia. The song was loud, fast. And yet his hands were snug around Arlia’s waist, hers stroking his chest as they swayed slowly. Not an inch separated their bodies.

She couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes. His face was blank.

Nesta held his stare until he broke away.

To kiss Arlia.

And he didn’t just kiss her. It wasn’t an innocent peck. He pulled her into him, capturing her lips with his own. Nesta watched as Arlia gripped the collar of his shirt and molded her body into his, their hips grinding together.

Cassian opened his eyes even as he continued to kiss Arlia. He looked directly at Nesta as his mouth moved against another woman’s. Nesta fought the urge to go up to him and smack him across the gods-damn face.

She failed.

But before she could even take a step, someone grabbed her arm from behind. She looked behind her shoulder.

Amren.

“You don’t want to do that, Ness,” Amren told her with a hard tone.

“But – ”

“But nothing,” Amren interrupted Nesta, her words final. “How about we do something to take your mind off it?” She didn’t even wait for her answer before calling over her boyfriend. “Varian!”

Just like a loyal puppy, Varian appeared at her side in a second, the end of his mermaid tale dragging on the floor. “What’s up, love?”

“Nesta needs a good distraction,” she explained, gesturing not-so-subtly to where Cassian stood. “Thoughts?”

Varian’s eyes brightened and he didn’t even hesitate before miraculously yelling over the deafening music, “Truth or dare!”

Amren threw her hands up with a groan and gave him an exasperated look as if to say, Are we thirteen years old?

But it was too late. Everyone around them was already cheering and chanting Varian's name.

Nesta levelled a look at her best friend.

Amren raised her palms up. “Hey, it’ll keep you from strangling Cassian to death,” she pointed out the silver lining.

Nesta couldn’t argue with that, so she begrudgingly followed her friend to the couch. A big group of people followed them from behind.

Five minutes later, everyone was situated into a large circle. Some were sprawled on the furniture while others sat on the floor. All of them were happily drunk and way too enthusiastic to be playing truth or dare.

“Truth or dare?” Amren started, her question directed at Azriel who was sitting a couple people away from Nesta. He was dressed as Sherlock, just as he’d told her he would.

“Dare.”

Thus began an entertaining game of truth or dare. Azriel had to do a body shot off of Rhys. Rhys had to give Helion a lap dance. Helion was forced to let Lucien do his face makeup. Lucien had to take off Mor’s socks with his teeth. Mor had to make an obscene call to a random phone number. Emerie chose truth and was forced to reveal her wildest sex fantasy (a drunken Mor offered to make that dream a reality).

Halfway into the game, Nesta had shed herself of her gown, leaving her in only a small black dress she'd put on underneath in case she got warm. It was a combination of the body heat, alcohol, and tension between her and Cassian.

The entire game, Nesta did her best to avoid eye contact with Cassian. He was sitting directly across from her in the circle, Arlia at his side. Nesta was doing fine, enjoying their childish antics until it was Emerie’s turn to ask someone.

Nesta wasn’t completely surprised when her friend turned to her and asked, “Truth or dare?”

Nesta saw the mischievous look on Emerie’s face as she proposed the question. She had no fucking idea what she had planned, but there was no way Nesta was falling into her trap.

“Truth,” Nesta decided to play it safe.

But then Cassian had to open his fucking mouth.

“Boring,” he said loudly, faking a yawn.

Nesta turned her head to face him for the first time during the game. Her heart pounded at the sight of him. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, holding his chin in his hands as he scrutinized her. His eyes were glossy, and he was clearly drunk like the rest of them.

“It’s in the name of the game.”

“Or maybe you’re just scared,” Cassian countered.

“I’m not,” Nesta gritted her teeth, staring him down.

Cassian merely raised a brow as if to say, Sure, you aren’t.

No one said anything.

“Fine,” Nesta snapped just to spite him. “Dare.”

Cassian smiled triumphantly and sat back as Emerie clapped with excitement.

"Give her a good one!" someone called out.

Emerie turned back to Nesta with a troubled look and mouthed, Forgive me.

Forgive her? What the fuck was she talking about –

“I dare you to kiss Cassian.”

Nesta stopped breathing.

The entire room was silent as everyone stared at Nesta, gauging her reaction. She felt Cassian's eyes on her.

Nesta broke the silence and burst out laughing, a snort leaving her nose. A very unattractive snort. “You think I’m going to kiss him?”

Others around the circle laughed nervously, unsure where this was going to go.

She looked across the circle to see Cassian staring at her. But where she was expecting a smug smile was a clenched jaw and burning eyes.

You’re not scared, huh? he mouthed at her silently. He was mocking her.

In your dreams, she snapped back.

Cassian crooked his finger to draw Nesta closer. "C'mere."

She snorted. Again. “If you want to do this dare, you’re the one coming to me.”

Only a couple feet separated them from opposite sides of the circle. It was petty, but she didn't care.

He looked at her incredulously. “Really, sweetheart?”

Nesta shrugged. Cassian narrowed his eyes in response.

“No.”

He was just as stubborn as her. A couple people around the circled groaned – they knew the beginning of a Nesta-Cassian stand-off when they saw one.

“Are you guys really fighting about who has to walk the five steps it takes to get to each other?” Emerie asked, astounded. Neither of them answered.

“Why don’t you meet in the middle of the circle?” Varian suggested meekly.

“No,” they both snapped at the same time, glaring at one another when they realized they said the same thing.

Another minute passed of them staring each other down.

Cassian was the first to speak again. “If you don’t come over here, you won’t finish the dare.”

Nesta gritted her teeth. He was right. She fucking hated when he was right.

Just get it over with.

“Fine,” she seethed, standing up from the floor. She turned to Amren. “Give me another shot. I’m not drunk enough for this.”

The last thing Nesta wanted was the memory of kissing Cassian tomorrow morning. She shuddered at the thought.

“Make that two,” Cassian added.

Amren returned just a second later with a full shot glass in each hand. Neither Cassian nor Nesta hesitated as they downed the drink.

Nesta willed her legs to move, her stride confident despite the overwhelming feeling that she was going to fall thanks to her wobbly knees. Cassian’s feet were flat on the floor as he sat on the edge of the sofa. Nesta didn’t allow herself to falter for a second as she straddled Cassian and sat on his lap, their faces just inches away.

The crowd whooped and whistled. Nesta ignored it.

Nesta was already intoxicated by his scent, but she did her best to ignore it. Cassian gripped her hips to keep her balanced on him, his touch burning into her skin. She was eye-level with him, their faces inches away. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek, and chills went down her arms.

Something in Nesta ignited when Cassian subtly rubbed his thumb over her hip under the fabric of her dress. He seemed to sense the change in her, his nostrils flaring as he moved his thumb over her skin again, leaving a burning trail in its wake.

The world fell away. It was just them. Nesta’s lips involuntarily parted when Cassian’s other hand rested on her bare thigh. His fingers inched higher and higher, and Nesta opened her legs slightly wider. Cassian exhaled a harsh breath.

The spot between her legs was molten hot, her legs numb with pleasure. She slid her hand over his shoulder, and she traced the thick columns of his neck with her manicured nails. He tilted his head for her, and Nesta wanted nothing more than to lick and bite and suck his bare neck.

What the fuck is he doing to me?

All of Nesta’s reservations fell away as she grinded her ass in his lap, unnoticeable to anyone watching, but enough to feel Cassian’s hardness slide under her core. His eyes flashed to hers. Nesta had never seen a man look at her the way he was.

Then, so fast that he didn’t even know what was happening, Nesta leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Cassian tried to deepen the kiss, but Nesta pulled away and was out of his lap before he could do anything to stop it.

She threw her hands up and threw a smirk over her shoulder at Cassian. “I did it!”

Everyone cheered, laughter filling the room as Nesta started walking back to her respective seat.

But she didn’t get far.

“Are fucking with me?” Cassian seethed from behind her. She turned around to face him.

His jaw was clenched with anger. His whole demeanor had changed, his presence threatening. Nesta watched as his fists clenched and unclenched, Cassian's telltale sign that he was not happy.

“Aw, were you expecting a date too?” Nesta cooed at him sarcastically.

Point for Nesta.

People laughed, but Cassian boomed, "That's it," silencing everyone else. Including Nesta.

He walked straight toward her with purpose. Nesta gasped as he carefully but firmly grabbed her by the nape of the neck, his other hand splaying across the small of her back to bring their bodies together. Their lips brushed together, and Nesta's long golden hair provided a small curtain of privacy from the onlookers.

Cassian's breath smelled of whiskey, and it nearly consumed her. She looked up into his eyes and let out a breath of air. A growl released from his throat.

"Fuck it," he murmured before crushing his lips to hers.

Nesta's hand instinctively reached for him, her fingers curling in the soft tufts of his dark hair. Cassian moaned into her mouth, opening his lips and deepening the kiss. Nesta could barely stand, her tongue moving against his in a seductive, wet dance. She tasted the alcohol on him, and she became further drunk on him. Cassian curled his arm around her waist to hold her up, consequently pressing their bodies harder together. Nesta's nipples pebbled through the thin fabric of her dress as her breasts ground against his broad chest. He nibbled on her bottom lip, teasing her, driving her mad with need. She let out a whimper, and she felt Cassian's lips turn up in a satisfied smile as they continued to kiss roughly.

A loud cough had them pulling away from each other.

Nesta's cheeks turned bright red when she realized they were still standing in the middle of the circle, their friends looking up at them with horror and confusion and excitement and disbelief. She looked back at Cassian whose lips were swollen from their kisses. He didn't seem to care that there were people around them, his eyes locked solely on her.

"So... uh, I think it's Nesta's turn to ask," Rhysand said dumbly, staring up at her like she had two heads.

The last thing Nesta wanted to do was sit back down and play truth or dare. No, she wanted to drag Cassian upstairs and finish what they -

"No can do," Cassian said plainly, grabbing Nesta's hand and pulling her with him as he made his way to the stairs. "We have some unfinished business."

Well, at least Cassian was on the same page as her for the first time.

Nesta didn't even look behind her as she willingly followed Cassian up the stairs and into a more private room.

He opened the first door they passed by, revealing the guest bedroom. Nesta walked inside, and he closed and locked the door behind them.

Nesta's mind was racing. What did they just do? Why did she let him kiss her like that?

"Stop."

Nesta looked up from her hands to where Cassian stood. He had a determined look on his face.

"Stop what?"

"Overthinking this."

Gods, he saw right through her.

"We shouldn't have done that," Nesta said quietly.

"Why?" Cassian pushed.

"We hate each other." Why did it sound like she was trying to convince herself of that?

"Do we?"

The question hung in the air as neither one of them said anything. Nesta sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her arms.

"Maybe not hate, but... we can't even stand each other," Nesta let out. She glanced over at him. "It's not like we have feelings for each other."

Cassian didn't say anything. She scoffed.

"You're telling me that you can honestly say you've thought of me in that sort of way?"

"Every fucking day, sweetheart."

Nesta's heart stopped. "I'm serious."

"Me too," he told her. His lips were set in a straight line, his eyes piercing into hers.

"Please, Cass," she said, using the nickname she so rarely used for him. "You fuck other women every week. You've despised me since day one. There's no way in hell."

"I don't hate you, Nesta," he said quietly. She watched as he walked over and took a seat in the rocking chair that faced her. He hesitated before continuing. "I hate how much I fucking think about you. I wake up and my first thought is, 'I wonder what Nesta's doing right now.' I go through my days hoping to run into you." He dragged his hands down his face and laughed at himself. "But you fucking infuriate me, woman. Our conversations are never pleasant. You're the most difficult person I've ever met."

Oh Gods.

"And as for the women..." he sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm telling you this."

Nesta waited for him to continue.

Cassian raised his head from his hands and looked her straight in the eye. "I only fuck other women because I can't get you out of my damn head. Because I've never felt this passionate about anyone. Because you confuse the living hell out of me."

He had to be lying. It was Cassian. There was no way he cared for her. She'd seen him look at her all these years, and there had never once been an indicator of such feelings. And of course he was passionate about her: he hated her! Passion wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"What do you possibly think could happen between us?" she asked with an exasperated look. She didn't wait for him to answer. "The only time this," Nesta gestured between them, "could ever happen again is a year from now."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "This," she moved her hand around. "Halloween. The one day you can pretend to be someone you're not."

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"You and I would never work, Cassian." The words cut through her as she choked them out.

"Why do you keep lying to yourself?" Cassian asked.

"I'm not! We know nothing about each other. We treat each other like shit. It would explode in our faces."

“We don't know anything about each other?" he echoed quietly, a small laugh leaving his lips. "How do you think I knew you were Hecate?"

Nesta didn't say anything. Where was he going with this?

"Maybe,” he started, “it’s because I’ve heard you mention her more times than I can count. Maybe I looked her up one day and read all about her. Maybe I think she's a fucking badass.

"You think we don't know anything about each other? Here are some things you don't know about me: I started that web comic you never shut up about. I finished it in a week, and I wrote down all my favorite parts in case we ever talk about it one day. You have a black cat named Minx, and you even have custom made socks with his picture on it. You want to study creative writing, but you're scared you won't make it as an author." He paused. "You try to hide everything inside, but I can tell how much you feel, Nesta. You aren't heartless, you aren't insensitive. You're just... scared. To trust."

Nesta hadn't told him any of that. Not directly, at least. But he listened. He'd always been listening. Her heart was pounding in her ears as Cassian finally met her gaze with soft eyes. She was terrified, but she held eye contact with him, refusing to look away. This man... he didn't hate her. He never had.

Nesta didn't realize tears were running down her face until her vision blurred and Cassian's face was out of focus.

Fuck. She hated crying, especially in front of people. Especially in front of him.

She dropped her face in her hands to hide her tears. She couldn't see what was happening but just a second later, she felt the bed sink down with another weight. Warm hands grasped her body, pulling her into a hard body. Cassian leaned down to brush his lips against her ear.

"Sweetheart," he whispered. Nesta didn't say anything. "Look at me."

His gentle voice melted something within her. She tried to inconspicuously wipe her tears before lifting her head up and meeting his gaze.

His lips turned up in a small smile, and he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Cassian put two fingers under her chin and lifted her face up until their lips touched in the gentlest kiss she'd ever had.

This time, Nesta didn't hesitate as she kissed Cassian back.

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

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#nessian #acotar #my writing #nesta archeron #cassian #fanfiction #fic #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #a court of silver flames #smut #angst #halloween

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

imax & climax

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

His mom was going to kill him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There it was.

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

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

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

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get off of me.”

——

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

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

——

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