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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months ago

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Predicting the present

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/09/radicalized/#deny-defend-depose

Back in 2018, around the time I emailed my immigration lawyer about applying for US citizenship, I started work on a short story called "Radicalized," which eventually became the title story of a collection that came out in 2019:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250228598/radicalized/

"Radicalized" is a story about America, and about guns, and about health care, and about violence. I live in Burbank, which is ranks second in gun-stores-per-capita in the USA, a dubious honor that represents a kind of regulatory arbitrage with our neighboring goliath, the City of Los Angeles, where gun store licensing is extremely tight. If you're an Angeleno in search of a firearm, you're almost certainly coming to Burbank to buy it.

Walking, cycling and driving past more gun stores than I'd ever seen in my Canadian life got me thinking about Americans and guns, a subject that many Canadians have passed comment upon. Americans kill each other, and especially themselves, at rates that baffle everyone else in the world, and they do it with guns. When we moved here, my UK born-and-raised daughter came home from her first elementary school lockdown drill perplexed and worried. Knowing what I did about US gun violence, I understood that while school shootings and other spree killings happened with dismal and terrifying regularity, they only accounted for a small percentage of the gun deaths here. If you die with a bullet in you, the chances are that the finger on the trigger was your own. The next most likely suspect is someone you know. After that, a cop. Getting shot by a stranger out of uniform is something of a rarity here – albeit a spectacular one that captures our imaginations in ways that deliberate or accidental self-slayings and related-party shootings do not.

So I told her, "Look, you can basically ignore everything they tell you during those lockdown drills, because they almost certainly have nothing to do with your future. But if a friend ever says to you, 'Hey, wanna see my dad's gun?' I want you to turn around and leave and get in touch with me right away, that instant."

Guns turn the murderous impulse – which, let's be honest, we've all felt at some time or another – into a murderous act. Same goes for suicide, which explains the high levels of non-accidental self-shootings in the USA: when you've got a gun, the distance between suicidal ideation and your death is the ten feet from the sofa to the gun in the closet.

Americans get angry at people and then, if they have a gun to hand, sometimes they shoot them. In a thread /r/Burbank about how people at our local cinemas are rude and use their phones in which someone posted, "Well, you should just ask them to stop." The reply: "That's a great way to get shot." No one chimed in to say, "Don't be ridiculous, no one would shoot you for asking them to put away their phone during a movie." Same goes for "road rage."

And while Americans shoot people they've only just gotten angry at, they also sometimes plan shooting sprees and kill a bunch of people because they're just generically angry. Being angry about the state of the world is a completely relatable emotion, of course, but the targets of these shootings are arbitrary. Sure sometimes these killings have clear, bigoted targets – mass shootings at Black supermarkets or mosques or synagogues or gay bars – more often the people who get sprayed with bullets (at country and western concerts or elementary schools or movie theaters) are almost certainly not the people the gunman (almost always a man) is angry at.

This line of thought kept surfacing as I went through the immigration process, but not just when I was dealing with immigration paperwork. I was also spending an incredible amount of time dealing with our health insurer, Cigna, who kept refusing treatments my pain doctor – one of the most-cited pain researchers in the country – thought I would benefit from. I've had chronic pain since I was a teenager, and it's only ever gotten worse. I've had decades of pain care in Canada and the UK, and while the treatments never worked for very long, it was never compounded by the kinds of bureaucratic stuff I went through with my US insurer.

The multi-hour phone calls with Cigna that went nowhere would often have me seeing red – literally, a red tinge closing in around my vision – and usually my hands would be shaking by the time I got off the call.

And I had it easy! I wasn't terminally ill, and I certainly wasn't calling in on behalf of a child or a spouse or parent who was seriously ill or dying, whose care was being denied by their insurer. Bernie's 2016 Medicare For All campaign promise had filled the air with statistics (Americans pay more for care and get worse outcomes than anyone else in the rich world), and stories. So many stories – stories that just tore your heart out, about parents who literally had to watch their children die because the insurance they paid for refused to treat their kids. As a dad, I literally couldn't imagine how I'd cope in that situation. Just thinking about it filled me with rage.

One day, as I was swimming in the community pool across the street – a critical part of my pain management strategy – I was struck with a thought: "Why don't these people murder health insurance executives?" Not that I wanted them to. I don't want anyone to kill anyone. But why do American men who murder their wives and the people who cut them off in traffic and random classrooms full of children leave the health insurance industry alone? This is an industry that is practically designed to fill the people who interact with it with uncontrollable rage. I mean, if you're watching your wife or your kid die before your eyes because some millionaire CEO decided to aim for a $10 billion stock buyback this year instead of his customary $9 billion target, wouldn't you feel that kind of murderous rage?

Around this time, my parents came out for a visit from Canada. It was a great trip, until one night, my mom woke me up after midnight: "We have to take your father to the ER. He's really sick." He was: shaking, nauseated, feverish. We raced down the street to the local hospital, part of a gigantic chain that has swallowed nearly all the doctors' practices, labs and hospitals within an hour's drive of here.

Dad had kidney stones, and they'd gone septic. When the ER docs removed the stones, all the septic gunk in his kidneys was flushed into his bloodstream, and he crashed. If he hadn't been in an ER recovery room at the time, he would have died. As it was, he was in a coma for three days and it was touch and go. My brother flew down from Toronto, not sure if this was his last chance to see our dad alive. The nurses and doctors took great care of my dad, though, and three days later, he emerged from his coma, and today, he's better than ever.

But on day two, when we thought he was probably at the end of his life, as my mother sat at his side, holding the hand of her husband of fifty years, someone from the hospital billing department came to her side and said, "Mrs Doctorow, I know this is a difficult time, but I'd like to discuss the matter of your husband's bill with you."

The bill was $176,000. Thankfully, the travel medical insurance plan offered by the Ontario Teachers' Union pension covered it all (I don't suppose anyone gets very angry with them).

How do people tolerate this? Again, not in the sense of "people should commit violent acts in the face of these provocations," but rather, "How is it that in a country filled with both assault rifles and unimaginable acts of murderous cruelty committed by fantastically wealthy corporations, people don't leap from their murderous impulses to their murderous weapons to commit murderous acts?

For me, writing fiction is an accretive process. I can tell that a story is brewing when thoughts start rattling around in my mind, resurfacing at odd times. I think of them as stray atoms, seeking molecules with available docking sites to glom onto. I process all my emotions – but especially my negative ones – through this process, by writing stories and novels. I could tell that something was cooking, but it was missing an ingredient.

Then I found it: an interview with the woman who coined the term "incel." It was on the Reply All podcast, and Alana, a queer Canadian woman explained that she had struggled all her life to find romantic and sexual partnership, and jokingly started referring to herself as "involuntarily celibate," and then, as an "incel":

https://gimletmedia.com/shows/reply-all/76h59o

Alana started a message board where other "incels" could offer each other support, and it was remarkably successful. The incels on Alana's message board helped each other work through the problems that stood between them and love, and when they did, they drifted away from the board to pursue a happier life.

That was the problem, Alana explained. If you're in a support group for people with a drinking problem, the group elders, the ones who've been around forever, are the people who've figured it out and gotten sober. When life seems impossible, those elders step in to tell you, I know it's terrible right now, but it'll get better. I was where you are and I got through it. You will, too. I'm here for you. We all are.

But on Alana's incel board, the old timers were the people who couldn't figure it out. They were the ones for whom mutual support and advice didn't help them figure out what they needed to do in order to find the love they sought. The longer the message board ran, the more it became dominated by people who were convinced that it was hopeless, that love was impossible for the likes of them. When newbies posted in rage and despair, these Great Old Ones were there to feed it: You're right. It will never get better. It only gets worse. There is no hope.

That was the missing piece. My short story Radicalized was born. It's a story about men on a message board called Fuck Cancer Right In the Fucking Face (FCKRFF, or "Fuckriff"), who are watching the people they love the most in the world be murdered by their insurance companies, who egg each other on to spectacular acts of mass violence against health insurance company employees, hospital billing offices, and other targets of their rage. As of today, anyone can read this story for free, courtesy of my publishers at Macmillan, who gave permission for the good folks at The American Prospect to post it:

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2024-12-09-radicalized-cory-doctorow-story-health-care/

I often hear from people about this story, even before an unknown (at the time of writing) man assassinated Brian Thompson, CEO of Unitedhealthcare, the murderous health insurance monopoly that is the largest medical insurer in the USA. Since then, hundreds of people have gotten in touch with me to ask me how I feel about this turn of events, how it feels to have "predicted" this.

I've been thinking about it for a few days now, and I gotta tell you, I have complicated feelings.

You've doubtless seen the outpourings of sarcastic graveyard humor about Thompson's murder. People hate Unitedhealthcare, for good reason, because he personally decided – or approved – countless policies that killed people by cheating them until they died.

Nurses and doctors hate Thompson and United. United kills people, for money. During the most acute phase of the pandemic, the company charged the US government $11,000 for each $8 covid test:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/06/137300-pct-markup/#137300-pct-markup

UHC leads the nation in claims denials, with a denial rate of 32% (!!). If you want to understand how the US can spend 20% of its GDP and get the worst health outcomes in the world, just connect the dots between those two facts: the largest health insurer in human history charges the government a 183,300% markup on covid tests and also denies a third of its claims.

UHC is a vertically integrated, murdering health profiteer. They bought Optum, the largest pharmacy benefit manager ("A spreadsheet with political power" -Matt Stoller) in the country. Then they starved Optum of IT investment in order to give more money to their shareholders. Then Optum was hacked by ransomware gang and no one could get their prescriptions for weeks. This killed people:

https://www.economicliberties.us/press-release/malicious-threat-actor-accesses-unitedhealth-groups-monopolistic-data-exchange-harming-patients-and-pharmacists/#

The irony is, Optum is terrible even when it's not hacked. The purpose of Optum is to make you pay more for pharmaceuticals. If that's more than you can afford, you die. Optum – that is, UHC – kills people:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/23/shield-of-boringness/#some-men-rob-you-with-a-fountain-pen

Optum isn't the only murderous UHC division. Take Navihealth, an algorithm that United uses to kick people out of their hospital beds even if they're so frail, sick or injured they can't stand or walk. Doctors and nurses routinely watch their gravely ill patients get thrown out of their hospitals. Many die. UHC kills them, for money:

https://prospect.org/health/2024-08-16-steward-bankruptcy-physicians-private-equity/

The patients murdered by Navihealth are on Medicare Advantage. Medicare is the public health care system the USA extends to old people. Medicare Advantage is a privatized system you can swap your Medicare coverage for, and UHC leads the country in Medicare Advantage, blitzing seniors with deceptive ads that trick them into signing up for UHC Medicare Advantage. Seniors who do this lose access to their doctors and specialists, have to pay hundreds or thousands of dollars for their medication, and get hit with $400 surprise bills to use the "free" ambulance service:

https://prospect.org/health/2024-12-05-manhattan-medicare-murder-mystery/

No wonder the public spends 22% more subsidizing Medicare Advantage than they spend on the care for seniors who stick with actual Medicare:

https://theconversation.com/taxpayers-spend-22-more-per-patient-to-support-medicare-advantage-the-private-alternative-to-medicare-that-promised-to-cost-less-241997

It's not just the elderly, it's also the addicted and mentally ill. UHC illegally denies coverage for mental health and substance abuse treatment. Imagine watching a family member spiral out of control, ODing, or ending up on the streets with hallucinations, and knowing that the health insurance company that takes thousands of dollars out of your paycheck refused to treat them:

https://www.startribune.com/unitedhealthcare-will-pay-15-7m-in-settlement-of-denial-of-care-charges/600087607

Unsurprising, the internal culture at UHC is callous beyond belief. How could it not be? How could you go to work at UHC and know you were killing people and not dehumanize those victims? A lawsuit by chronically ill patient whom UHC had denied care for surfaced recorded phone calls in which UHC employees laughed long and hard about the denied claims, dismissing the patient's desperate, tearful pleas as "tantrums" :

https://www.propublica.org/article/unitedhealth-healthcare-insurance-denial-ulcerative-colitis

Those UHC workers are just trying to get by, of course, and the callouses they develop so they can bear to go to work were ripped off by last week's murder. UHC's executive team knows this, and has gone on a rampage to stop employees from leaking their own horror stories, or even mentioning that the internal company announcement of Thompson's death was seen by 16,000 employees, of whom only 28 left a comment:

https://www.kenklippenstein.com/p/unitedhealthcare-tells-employees

Doctors and nurses hate UHC on behalf of their patients, but it's also personal. UHC screws doctor's practices by refusing to pay them, making them chase payments for months or even years, and then it offers them a payday lending service that helps them keep the lights on while they wait to get paid:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frr4wuvAB6U

Is it any surprise that Reddit's nursing forums are full of nurses making grim, satisfied jokes about the assassination of the $10m/year CEO who ran the $400b/year corporation that does all this?

https://www.thedailybeast.com/leading-medical-subreddit-deletes-thread-on-unitedhealthcare-ceos-murder-after-users-slam-his-record/

We're not supposed to experience – much less express – schadenfreude when someone is murdered in the street, no matter who they are. We're meant to express horror at the idea of political violence, even when that violence only claims a single life, a fraction of the body count UCH produced under Thompson's direction. As Malcolm Harris put it, "'Every life is precious' stuff about a healthcare CEO whose company is noted for denying coverage is pretty silly":

https://twitter.com/BigMeanInternet/status/1864471932386623753

As Woody Guthrie wrote, "Some will rob you with a six-gun/And some with a fountain pen." The weapon is lethal when it's a pistol and when it's an insurance company. The insurance company merely serves as an accountability sink, a layer of indirection that lets a murder happen without any person being the technical murderer:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

I don't want people to kill insurance executives, and I don't want insurance executives to kill people. But I am unsurprised that this happened. Indeed, I'm surprised that it took so long. It should not be controversial to note that if you run an institution that makes people furious, they will eventually become furious with you. This is the entire pitch of Thomas Piketty's Capital in the 21st Century: that wealth concentration leads to corruption, which is destabilizing, and in the long run it's cheaper to run a fair society than it is to pay for the guards you'll need to keep the guillotines off your lawn:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/06/24/thomas-pikettys-capital-in-the-21st-century/

But we've spent the past 40 years running in the other direction, maximizing monopolies, inequality and corruption, and gaslighting the public when they insist that this is monstrous and unfair. Back in 2022, when UHC was buying Change Healthcare – the dominant payment network for hospitals, which would allow UHC to surveil all its competitors' payments – the DOJ sued to block the merger. The Trump-appointed judge in the case, Carl Nichols – who owned tens of thousands of dollars in UHC bonds – ruled against the DOJ, saying that it would all be fine thanks to United's "culture of trust and integrity":

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/the-antitrust-shooting-war-has-started

We don't know much about Thompson's killer yet, but he's already becoming a folk hero, with lookalike contests in NYC:

https://twitter.com/CollinRugg/status/1865472577478553976

And gigantic graffiti murals praising him and reproducing the words he wrote on the shell casings of the bullets he used to kill Thompson, "delay, deny, depose":

https://www.tumblr.com/radicalgraff/769193188403675136/killin-fuckin-ceos-freight-graff-in-the-bay

I get why this is distasteful. Thompson is said to have been a "family man" who loved his kids, and I have no reason to disbelieve this. I can only imagine that his wife and kids are shattered by this. Every living person is the apex of a massive project involving dozens, hundreds of people who personally worked to raise, nurture and love them. I wrote about this in my novel Walkaway, as the characters consider whether to execute a mercenary sent to kill them, whom they have taken hostage:

She had parents. People who loved her. Every human was a hyper-dense node of intense emotional and material investment. Speaking meant someone had spent thousands of hours cooing to you. Those lean muscles, the ringing tone of command — their inputs were from all over the world, carefully administered. The merc was more than a person: like a spaceship launch, her existence implied thousands of skilled people, generations of experts, wars, treaties, scholarship and supply-chain management. Every one of them was all that.

But so often, the formula for "folk hero" is "killing + time." The person who terrorizes the people who terrorize you is your hero, and eventually we sanitize the deaths, and just remember them as fighters for justice. If you doubt it, consider the legend of Robin Hood:

https://twitter.com/mcmansionhell/status/1865554985842352501

The health industry is trying to put a lid on this, palpably afraid that – as in my story "Radicalized" – this one murderer will become a folk hero who inspires others to acts of spectacular violence. They're insisting that it's unseemly to gloat about Thompson's death. They're right, but this is an obvious loser strategy. The health industry is full of people whose deaths would be deplorable, but not unsurprising. As Clarence Darrow had it:

I’ve never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure.

Murder is never the answer. Murder is not a healthy response to corruption. But it is healthy for people to fear that if they kill people for greed, they will be unsafe. On December 5 – the day after Thompson's killing – the health insurer Anthem announced that it would not pay for anesthesia for medical procedures that ran long. The next day, they retracted the policy, citing "outrage":

https://www.cnn.com/2024/12/05/health/anthem-blue-cross-blue-shield-anesthesia-claim-limits/index.html

Sure, maybe it was their fear of reputation damage that got them to decide to reverse this inhumane, disgusting, murderous policy. But maybe it was also someone in the C-suite thinking about what share of the profits from this policy would have to be spent on additional bodyguards for every Anthem exec if it went into effect, and decided that it was a money-loser after all.

Think about hospital exec Ralph de la Torre, who cheerfully testified to Congress that he'd killed patients in pursuit of profit. De la Torre clearly doesn't fear any kind of consequences for his actions. He owns hospitals that are filled with tens of thousands of bats (he stiffed the exterminators), where none of the elevators work (he stiffed the repair techs), where there's no medicine or blood (he stiffed the suppliers) and where the doctors and nurses can't make rent (he stiffed them too). De La Torre doesn't just own hospitals – he also owns a pair of superyachts:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/28/5000-bats/#charnel-house

It is a miracle that so many people have lost their mothers, sons, wives and husbands so Ralph de la Torre could buy himself another superyacht, and that those people live in a country where you can buy an assault rifle, and that Ralph de la Torre isn't forced to live in a bunker and travel in a tank.

It's a rather beautiful sort of miracle, to be honest. I like to think that it comes from a widespread belief by the people of this country I have since become a citizen of, that we should solve our problems politically, rather than with bullets.

But the assassination of Brian Thompson is a wake-up call, a warning that if we don't solve this problem politically, we may not have a choice about whether it's solved with violence. As a character in "Radicalized" says, "They say violence never solves anything, but to quote The Onion: that's only true so long as you ignore all of human history":

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2024-12-09-radicalized-cory-doctorow-story-health-care/

#pluralistic #unitedhealthcare #assassination #execution #violence #murder #science fiction #radicalized #health insurance #m4a #medicare for all #Brian Thompson #guns #cancer #corruption #usausausa #torment nexus

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lilacgaby · 5 months ago

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title: awaken.

pairing: barbarian!bakugo x goddess!reader,

synopsisꨄ. you've been asleep all this time, who knew a barbarian would be the one to awaken you?

(extended ver of this)

as katsuki wandered through the never ending forest, he let the words of the elders ring through his head. "you'll never be anything more than a placeholder for the next king."

he set off, destined to prove himself, show that he was worth more than any of them could predict. his father was worried and heartbroken at his sudden departure, but his mother understood that he'd need to do this now, or he'd never forgive himself.

the first thing he did as he set off was to secure food for the night. he eyed a group of hogs, all large and heavy, perfect for feeding him throughout the night. he grabbed the bow out of his satchel and aimed it at the largest one, which landed perfectly in his target's head. he couldn't help but to let out a celebratory laugh as it fell to the ground, making the hogs around it scurry off into the forest.

that seemed to be the last of his luck for the day. he now wished he chose a different day to set off, as the rains and winds were heavy, it was impossible to set up camp in the forest as it was. suddenly, through the curtains of heavy greenery, he saw an abandoned structure. he'd prefer anything to the harsh conditions mother nature set out on him now, so he cut through the vines as he made his way into the structure.

it was grand inside, he thought. he couldn't see very well thanks to the darkness brought on by the rains, but from what he could see it must have been a place of high regard in its peak.

he lit a torch, carrying it as he continued on into the structure. he determined it had been a church in its old days, long forgotten due to.. well he didn't figure that part out yet.

he bumped into a object that resembled a bench, besides the old candle wax, fresh leaves, and golden statutes he saw littering it. he made a mental note to take those with him as he organized his things onto the bench.

he laid his wine down first, a treat he'd enjoy on the way back to his kingdom. next, he laid down his clothes he planned to change into. though he was a barbarian, and by nature they did not wear many clothes, katsuki knew the trip would require such clothing, so he brought the best.

his next item was the huge hog he'd caught earlier. he lugged it on to the bench-like object, thinking of how it was a perfect spot to gut and prepare it for his meal later on. speaking of his cooking, he made sure to bring only the finest oils to cook in. he set it down next to the hog, satisfied with his array of items, he'd slumped against the bench, closed his eyes and sighed.

when he opened it again, he saw the shadow of a person moving behind him. alarmed, he readied his other weapon he always kept on his side, his blade welded by his mother.

though, his blade was dropped out of his hand at the sight. his jaw went slack, eyes wide, and the sudden urge to worship overcame him as he finally saw who was behind him.

a gorgeous.. deity? who glowed with an luminous essence, who adorned pointed ears, heavy amounts of gold, a silk dress that encapsulated your body, and an unreadable expression as you sifted through his items.

the ability to speak was taken from him, he felt as if he was at your mercy, and he was. he was on his knees before he could process it.

your hands glided through the items he had placed on the bench, after you finished looking through the group, you finally spared him a glance.

"your gifts are of high value," you spoke, your voice royal, with an unimaginable presence. "i'm not as powerful as i used to be, my temple and followers were lost to time, my memory faded from the minds of the new." you sauntered over to him now, becoming eye-level with him.

he'd never felt so unworthy.

"i have not much i can give you or do for you, so what would you like from me?"

his ability to speak finalky returned, his mind though, remained blank, so he answered with the only thing on his blank mind:

"your hand."

he immediately rescinded back, never feeling so unnerved and unknowing as he did in this moment. "i- it was an unreasonable request! you-- it's beneath y-"

"that's acceptable. i will go with you, barbarian."

he was shocked as you accepted, though he wouldn't dare question your judgement. "katsuki." he blurted out. "please call me katsuki."

"i will marry you, if it's what you desire katsuki."

his eyes shot open. "yes. i-- it's what i'd like."

"you may call me [name] then." he clutched his heart, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming, but if he was he'd never want it to end.

"alright.. [name]." you smiled at the hesitance in his voice, and waved his worries off with a smile.

"shall we head out then?"

"we can't, the weather is horrible."

"what weather? it's sunny as normal." surely enough, as he turned around the weather had returned to a calm, warm day. the harsh winds and rains no longer present, replaced by the mundane weather.

"i-- i suppose you're correct." he gathered his supplies, even getting your permission to take the things he had on your alter, as he learned it was, back with you two. he slung his satchel behind his back and turned to you.

you held out your hand, and after he placed a chaste kiss on it, he carried you in his arms. the journey back was a blur to him, the burning in his feet nonexistent as he focused on the feeling of his skin on yours, the feeling of his hands on your body.

you arrived sooner then expected. internally, katsuki was excited. not only did he manage to revitalize a goddess, but he'd marry her. he was ecstatic not only at the prospect of beating this into the elders' faces, but to be yours for his eternity.

as he burst back into the conference room, the elders were shocked to see him back so soon. the smug expressions they would've gotten were wiped off the second they noticed you in his arms.

even they, from their distance at their cabinets, could sense the raw presence you had.

"prince bakugo, what is the meaning of this?"

"i've brought to you undeserving folks my wife."

the table of elders all collectively choked at the revelation. "wife? but we've yet to go through the proper trails and period of compatibility. that woman isn't even a barbarian."

"you're right, she's above all of you. she's a deity, and i've earned her hand in marriage. i want my wedding planned for next week, make it fit for a god."

"a deity you say?" the elder's felt like their eyes were about to burst out their sockets. "but--"

they heard nothing as he walked away from the room, you still in his arms. as you eyed the new, strange innovations and buildings around you, katsuki clutched you closer to his chest.

he set you onto a bed, the feeling of silk under your hands one that was foreign, as you hadn't been awakened for over a century.

he knelt in front of you, taking off one of his necklaces, and wordlessly asking for permission to set it on you.

you didn't know this, but this was sacred to the barbarians, presenting one's necklace to another was like talking a piece of your soul and entrusting them with it.

he looked at the sight of you, his ruby necklace with the teeth of the beasts he slayed contrasting severely to the gold you adorned, and he smiled.

you felt your heart go into a knot at the sight of him, he held your hand as he suddenly made a vow to you.

"i vow to be your greatest worshipper. even if i am not the last, i will set a standard that will long exceed my lifespan.

for you are my wife now, and i'll cherish you as long as i may live."

you smiled softly, reaching out to him to hold his other hand. "you've already become my most interesting worshipper, that i'm certain of."

as the two of you basked in each others presence, other gods were smiling upon you two as well.

unbeknownst to you, zeus, a god who had favored you since your birth, had set off the storm on bakugo, leading him to your alter.

not like it was what you were pondering at the moment anyway, as you caressed and embraced your soon to be husband, who you were already planning to turn into a god alongside you.

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fangsandfeels · 1 month ago

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I gained the next level of appreciation for how well Dragon Age 2 understood trauma, the ugly side of it.

I don't blame Fenris. I understand why after enduring years and years of abuse, humiliation, having your autonomy, your memories, everything that constituted you including your own name stripped away from you, you have no empathy for anyone reminiscent of your abusers - especially if nobody came to save you in the end and you are the only one fighting for your life and freedom. I understand why upon hearing how someone (who reminds you of your abusers) suffers unfairly, the only thing you can say is "Good" - and lash out at anyone trying to tell you off for it. Where all these fucking preachers were when you were suffering? Why even in the land that is supposed to be different from your own hellhole, your word and your experience still don't matter?

I don't blame Anders. I understand why after being betrayed by your own parent, after the decades of listening how you must suffer for the sin of being born, being confined to isolation, being treated like a monster while being a child, being denied the simplest of comforts, you fiercely defend people who share your abilities - because nobody else would ever look out for you and them. Of course you would clash even with someone who has legitimate reasons to be negative towards people like you because your own wounds sting more than their pain. You have dealt with the Chantry's vile propaganda for so long, you no longer take things at face value. Of course, Chantry would say that the foreign land where mages rule is foul, and corrupt, and full of blood magic and demons! So many times rumors, lies, and twisted religious depictions have been used to abuse, lobotomize, and enslave you, you're no longer letting it happen - and you only believe what you see and hear. And all you see around is injustice and indifference. And you're only the one screaming into the void, raging against the horrors everybody else is willingly blind to.

I don't blame them both for losing their mind in their own ways while the rest of the group silently wondered why they couldn't just be normal.

Personally, I don't think there was any chance for them to become friends or make peace during the events of the game. The "I suffered so I don't want anyone to suffer like I did" or "I'm a bigger person" are pretty lies and half-truths at worst. At best, they are mindsets only possible after someone who suffered finally feels safe and can be out of their survival mode. Which is not really true for Fenris and Anders, even during the final act of the story.

Even on high friendship or romance, Anders is still self-destructive, ready to die at Hawke's hands after launching his plan in motion. Even with a friend/lover at his side, he is alone in his head, in his vision of the world, in his pain.

Even with proper support and help, it takes Fenris three years to accept a relationship, but it doesn't change his perspective and if you don't have enough of his trust, you lose him to his trauma-based response.

I may be overthinking it, but I am truly thankful to the game for not toning down the complex, hard and uncomfortable aspects of trauma. People have always been in love with the concept of the perfect victim (who hates only "the right" bad guys and suddenly knows when to be tolerant, nice and accepting and doesn't say any rancid and hateful shit ever), but it became particularly aggravating lately.

#dragon age 2 #fenris da2 #anders da2 #da2 fenris #da2 anders #dragon age fenris #dragon age anders #the “tehee let's make fenris like mages” or “why does anders say stuff like this it's so mean!” talks have always rubbed me the wrong way #and now i really understand why #i think these two could have gained a new perspective on their animosity towards each other after the events of DA2 #and then there is a chance for them to start understanding each other #but during dragon age 2? no chance

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chunghasweetie · 7 months ago

Text

𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋, 𝐎𝐇 𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 | J.JK

— pairing | assistant!oc x flirty boss!jjk

— summary | jungkook’s assistant (you) finally admits her feelings for him

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

protected sex, dirty talk, cursing, praising kink, adult dialogue, work affairs

— word count | 5.0k words

— song suggestion | the party & the after party— the weeknd

“You look very nice Y/n.” He opened the door for her.

“I have the prettiest assistant in the industry.“ He bit his lip, linking arms with her as the two entered the business party together.

The two were always together. Every day for hours upon hours.

She had been working for the CEO of Jeon Industries for the past 4 years.

It was another night of being with him. This time she was accompanying him to a business party at some mansion in the east.

“Thank you Mr. Jeon.” She thanked him.

She had went all out tonight. How could she not with the amount of luxury outfits and accessories he supplied her with?

She was an ambassador on the side for many different high end fashion companies.

Dior. Prada. Chanel.

All because of Jungkook.

He always helped represent her from the start. The second he laid eyes on her, he knew she couldn’t let all her beauty go to waste.

He pushed hard for her to rep these brands, knowing well she deserved to have every opportunity out there.

She was an extremely hard worker too, sending her to anyone was a true gift.

Tonight she was dripped out in Chanel from head to toe.

She wore a vintage black and gold Chanel couture dress paired with matching gold heels.

Her entire look was priceless.

He supplied with her with everything simply because he wanted to.

Y/n was too independent from the get go, and Jungkook wanted her to understand what it’s like to be truly taken care of.

Although Y/n worked for Jungkook, she was almost on his level of fame by her success that came naturally after he got her name out there.

Many rumors speculated that she slept her way to the top but, the rumors couldn’t be more untrue.

Jungkook was obsessed with this woman.

Repeatedly asking her if she was interested in him. He was constantly offering himself out to her.

He flirted with Y/n every day. It wasn’t enough to bother her. They were comfortable enough to where she could reject him over and over.

He understood her rejections. She was afraid how others viewed her. How if they ever broke up, it could make her entire career plummet to the bottom.

His eyes roamed over her figure, taking in the way the dress hugged her curves, the way her heels made her legs seem to go on forever.

He couldn't help but let out a low whistle. “That dress really working for you. Glad I spent the money.”

“I appreciate it Mr. Jeon.” She thanked him once more.

Y/n was absolutely gorgeous and every investor and supervisor at the party turned their head when she entered with Jungkook.

He noticed the way everyone was gawking at her and he couldn't help but smirk.

He was used to this. She was a prize and knew that all too well.

Y/n was his, and his alone.

He hated how oblivious she was. She didn’t think of herself to be this powerful woman.

She thought of herself as average, which could make Jungkook grow insane.

There was no way she was serious.

“Can you feel all the eyes on you?” He whispered to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. They’re greeting us. This is just business matters and nothing more.” She replied, straight faced.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You're right, of course. Business first.”

He led Y/n through the crowd, making his way to the group of investors.

But as he walked, he couldn't help but place a hand on the small of her back, enough to display a slight sense of possession.

She went around with him, introducing herself as well to all of Jungkook’s business partners and potential partners.

He watched her, impressed by her confidence and grace as she charmed each and every one the important people.

“All these years and you’re still so good at talking for me.” He said, leaning in close to her so that only she could hear him.

“Of course. We’ve been doing this for years.” Y/n replied.

A small smile appeared on his lips as he imagined the number of times she must have helped him in his business ventures.

“And hopefully for more.” He muttered under his breath, before straightening up and clearing his throat.

“Can I get you anything to drink Mr. Jeon?”She offered.

He chuckled at her formality, but he couldn't help the way his heart fluttered at the sound of his title.

“Yes, please. He said, before taking a moment to decide. A glass of whiskey would be nice.” He instructed.

“Yes Sir.” Y/n nodded, walking off and requesting him a drink at the open bar.

Once his drink was finished she walked back over to him, handing his drink over.

“Go get yourself something.” He told her.

“I’m fine.”

“Go. I know you’ve been craving a glass of rosè.”

“Fine.” Y/n finally gave in, heading back over to the open bar.

Finally having her glass filled, she started to head back over to him.

Before she could start to Jungkook, she was stopped by one of the executives.

“Excuse me, Ms. Y/n was it?” He stopped her. “I was wondering if you had a minute.”

She didn’t look up, not expecting to start a conversation.

“Yes, I’m Y/n. I actually have to head back to my boss I’m sorry.” She began to walk but he stepped in front of her.

“It’ll only be a second. I’m Kim Namjoon.” The man spoke. “I just have a proposal for you.”

Her eyes flickered upwards. She locked eyes with the man, surprised someone so high up had an interest in speaking to her.

“You’re Kim Namjoon from Kim&Kim.” She rose her eyebrow. “What kind of proposal are you talking about? I’ll go get Ju—“

“This isn’t for Jungkook,” Namjoon shook his head. “It’s is for you.”

“Me?” She looked at him in confusion.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed as he watched the executive checking her out, his grip on his glass of whiskey tightening.

He downed it in one swift motion before stalking over to where she was, his eyes flashing with possessiveness.

He was watching this entire conversation go down.

“You don’t need to answer me now but,” He began. “I’m in desperate need of a new assistant. You’re one of the best assistants in the industry and I need you— bad. Whatever Jungkook is paying you, I’m offering you tripple the amount.”

Y/n stood there in utter shock. Her mouth was agape and she couldn’t say anything.

Jungkook could almost choke.

The nerve of this guy.

Jungkook's expression darkened as the man offered her the position and a much larger salary.

He could see the hesitation in her eyes as she took the card, and he couldn't help but feel a small surge of fear that he would lose her to someone else.

Maybe she was truly considering.

Jungkook was imagining everything he’d ever done with her.

Did he push her too much?

Was she overwhelmed?

Did she feel underpaid?

‘There’s no way’ He thought to himself.

“Like I said,” Namjoon was handing her his business card. “You don’t need to answer me now but, just think about it. You’ll be rich and you’ll have a lot more of those luxury companies to add to your collection.”

“Thank you for your time.” She simply nodded, biding her goodbyes before heading back to Jungkook. “Sorry that took so long.”

Jungkook watched Y/n return, his expression unreadable as he took in her words and the lingering scent of another man on her.

Namjoon’s cologne was annoyingly contagious.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of jealousy as he reached out to grab her wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

“Is there an issue Mr. Jeon?” She looked down, feeling his grip.

“Come on.” He walked her over to the balcony outside, where the two could be more secluded.

He pulled her closer, his voice low and husky as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.

"I think you know exactly what the issue is. It’s us.” He whispered. “I heard Namjoon.”

“What about it?”

His hand tightened around her waist, his thumb pressing into the small of her back as he held her close.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, Y/n. That exec trying to poach you.”his voice was a low growl, laced with greed.

You weren’t for sale, why would Namjoon pull such a stunt?

Y/n sighed. “I didn’t want to be rude. So I took Namjoon’s business card.”

Jungkook's eyes flashed with irritation, but he controlled himself, not wanting to make a scene. “But you didn’t throw it away. So you’re thinking about his proposal.

“Mr. Jeon like I said, let’s keep this professional. I believe your personal feelings are getting in the way.” She replied. “I was being respectful.”

"I don't give a damn about professionalism right now, Y/n," he said, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his composure.

Her eyes widened. “Like I said, I just took the card to be respectful. I didn’t have any intention behind it.”

Jungkook's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face.

"Then why did I catch you staring at him for an uncomfortably long time?" he asked, his voice low and suspicious.

“Oh my gosh Mr. Jeon. It’s called eye contact. This really shouldn’t matter.” She grew irritated with him.

Jungkook's grip on her waist loosened, but he still didn't let go.

"It does matter to me," he said, his voice softer now. "You know I don't like it when other men look at you."

“This is a work setting Mr. Jeon. In order to do my job I must conversate with many men. Can we drop this now? Please?” She begged.

Jungkook's expression darkened a little at the sound of her calling him Mr. Jeon, but he otherwise seemed to calm down at her words.

"Fine," he said curtly, letting go of her waist and taking a step back. "Just... don’t consider his offer too much. I just— I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Y/n swallowed. “Okay Mr. Jeon.”

He reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Come on, let's get out of here," he said, his voice gentler now. "My treat.”

“But what about the business party? Shouldn’t we stay longer?” She blinked.

Jungkook shrugged. "They'll manage without us," *he said. "It's been a long day and I'm sure you're over all these people."

He reached out a hand towards her, a slightly pleading look on his face. "Please, come on.”

“Okay.” She gave in. She bid her goodbyes to whoever the two walked by as they strutted to the exit.

Jungkook smiled when she agreed and said nothing as she bid her goodbyes.

He was leading her out of the party, opening the door for her to get in the company car.

She took a seat on the other side of him, answering work emails on her phone the second she got inside.

That girl could work. She was always working.

Jungkook admired how driven she was.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, his voice low and warm. “Because I am.”

“Me too.” She nodded.

Jungkook smiled at her response. "Good," he said, before leaning close, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Because I'm taking you to the best bar in the city." His tone, though husky, gave her assurance of his sincerity. “Not letting that dress go to waste.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Y/n objected.

“I want to," Jungkook said, his eyes flicking up to finally meet hers, a serious expression on his face.

"You know I like spoiling you." He placed a gentle hand on her thigh before leaning back to give her some space.

She knew there was no point in arguing with him. “Alright.

As much as she rejected him, she didn’t mind how touchy he was with her.

Y/n definitely could admit she liked it.

Jungkook's eyes lit up at her acquiescence, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"That's my girl," he said, his hand squeezing her thigh affectionately before releasing it to recline back in the seat. "We'll be there soon."

Once they arrived at the bar, Jungkook went around, opening the door for her as she got out of the car.

“That dress is really working for you.” He bit his lip. “Have I mentioned that?”

Y/n chuckled, walking with him inside. “You have.”

Although she was hearing these flirtatious words everyday, she couldn’t help but blush at the constant compliments from her boss.

Once they took a seat and ordered a few drinks they got to talking.

They went to discussing random business deals and even going off topic and speaking about their personal lives.

“I never thought I’d have to spend so much time with someone because of my job. I thought I would hire many men as my assistant and sectaries but you’re all I’ve ever needed.” He told her.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have the honor of working for someone so head strong and successful” She laughed. “And for these many years.”

Jungkook smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know, you're the best assistant I could've ever asked for," he said, his hand finding its way to her thigh once more. "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“I don’t actually know what Id do without you either. I was in such a rough spot when I got hired…” She trailed off.

Jungkook's grip on her thigh tightened, his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin.

"I'm glad I could help, even if it was just giving you a position," he said, his voice low and husky. "But it's not just about the job, is it?

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook's gaze met hers, his eyes filled with a fiery intensity. "You know what I mean," he said, his grip on her thigh tightening even more.

"I think it's more than just a boss-assistant relationship between us." He brought up once more.

“You keep saying this.” She sighed.

“I’ve built up my career Mr. Jeon. I can’t fraternitize with the one guy who could ruin my life in seconds all because we stupidly decided to date.” She shook her head.

Jungkook's grip on her thigh loosened a little, his gaze dropping to the ground.

He nodded solemnly. "I understand your concerns. I do." He paused for a moment before continuing. "But please don't think of it as stupid.”

“How can I not? Say we decide to be official. How do you think that makes me look? What if we get into an argument and I lose my job? What if someone accuses me of sleeping to get the job?” She rambled.

Jungkook's expression hardened, his jaw clenching. "I'd never let anything happen to you, do you understand that?"

He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. "You're more than just an assistant. You're... so fucking special to me."

“I don’t know still Jungkook. This could ruin everything.”

Jungkook's gaze softened as he looked at her. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Don't worry about a thing. I'll protect you, no matter what happens." He whispered. "Let me take care of everything. Trust me."

“I—“

He interrupted. “Whatever he offered you, I’ll pay more. So much more. I’ll give you whatever the hell you want. I’ll do whatever you ask me too.”

“You don’t have to date me Y/n. I’ll stop flirting with you forever,” He continued, “Just please, don’t accept Namjoon’s proposal.”

Y/n exhaled, finally giving into him after all that time.

“I want to give us a chance.”

Jungkook’s ears perked up, the last line he’d be expecting from her.

“What?”

“I’ve always been attracted to you but I’ve pushed it all to the side so we can work as normal but— I’m wiling to try with you.”

His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest.

“You’re serious?” He was choked up, jittery from how worked up her reply made him.

“More than serious.”

“Oh Y/n you have no fucking clue how long I’ve been wanting to hear that.” He hurriedly rushed her out of the restaurant, almost pushing her into the car.

She was giggling in the backseat. Jungkook was kissing all up on her, mumbling sweet sayings into her ears.

He couldn’t believed this was real— that it all unfolded in seconds.

After asking asking and asking. She finally agreed.

She wanted to give them a try, just like he always desired.

He couldn't believe he finally had her in his arms.

The smile plastered on his face could be seen from miles away. He smiled against her skin, unable to allow it to fade.

Jungkook's hands were exploring her body as he kissed her and made his way down her neck.

He sucked on her neck, leaving a mark as he did. "Fuck, I can’t stop kissing you." He growled into her ear.

“You’re a really good kisser.” She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Can’t wait until we get to your penthouse.”

Jungkook grinned, his eyes shining with excitement. "I can't wait either." He replied.

"I'm going to show you how bad I’ve feigned you." He nibbled on her ear.

Before the couple knew it, the vehicle had already been passed security and pulled up to Jungkook’s place.

Jungkook guided her out of the backseat, helping her onto the ground.

He took hold of her, leading her into his luxurious penthouse.

He shut the door behind them and immediately pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately.

"Finally all to myself." He murmured against her lips.

She was easily able to keep up with his demanding kisses.

He had her brain cloudy and unable to be her usual rational self.

His kisses and touches had her in a daze. She was burning for him.

“Y-Your room already. Please— I’m trying to be a lady but It’s so hard” She mumbled against his lips, almost ashamed of the words she spoke.

He had been chasing after her for years. Now they switched.

Jungkook chuckled, a deep, husky sound. "Shit baby. I didn’t think you’d get like this. I didn’t know I was this good." He boasted, nipping at her bottom lip.

"You're such a naughty girl. I’m barely doing shit and you’re already a mess." He picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her towards his bedroom.

She was a shy mess, embarrassed at so easily he was able to unfold her.

Her bashful expression wasn’t easy to hide, and Jungkook took notice almost instantly.

Jungkook laid her down on his bed, climbing on top of her. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about." He comforted, tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"I love how you respond to me." He kissed her again, slow and deep.

She kissed him back eagerly, smacking her lips against his. “It’s embarrassing. I haven’t been with anyone in—“

“Years. I know.” He interrupted, chuckling. “You’ve been too busy with me.”

"Don't worry about any of that." He flipped her around, pushing her face down onto the bed.

"You're with me now." He whispered, slowly lifting up her dress.

Jungkook couldn't help but smirk at the sight of her.

“Oh look at you.” He breathed out.

Her panties were practically stuck to her pussy like glue. Her pool of wetness making a statement on her panties.

"All this and I haven’t even touched it yet." He smirked, running a finger along the seam of her panties.

"I should take these off huh baby?" He slowly pulled them down her legs.

“Gonna taste you first.” He bit his lip, examining her panties before having his eyes locked on her plump and glistening pussy. “Is that alright?”

“P-Please. Now.”

“What was that sweetheart?” He taunted.

“Jungkook please eat it already.” She turned her head slightly to look at him, humiliated that she was so desperate for him like this.

“So needy.” He teased.

He couldn't help but smirk at her words, he wasted no time in doing as she said.

He spread her legs apart and started lavishing her pussy with his tongue.

Her body instantly retracted at the pleasure, a gasp leaving her lips.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, he continued to eat her pussy, determined to make her cum on his tongue.

He reached up with one hand and started rubbing circles aroundz

He went stupid on her pussy, licking and sucking on her clit.

“Jungkook you’re so good with your mouth.” She muttered out, barely able to speak by how distracted his tongue made her.

Jungkook looked up at her, his eyes gleaming with desire as he continued to pleasure her.

"Mmm, you're so fucking sweet." He murmured against her pussy, his tongue delving deeper into her folds. "I could eat you out all day."

“D-Don’t say that.” She swallowed, his claims made her blush even harder.

He continued to eat her out, his tongue expertly flicking over her clit as he watched her reactions. "But it's true. You're so fucking beautiful and delicious.”

“I need to make you cum over and over again.” He continued. “Until my fucking jaw snaps. You taste so fucking good it’s addicting.”

She was already feeling the pressure in her lower body build up, the orgasm rushing through her.

“Jungkook I’m close.” She whined.

“Let go baby.” He continued working her pussy. “All over my mouth.”

It didn’t take long for her to do so, thighs clenching together before releasing herself all over his tongue.

Jungkook groaned against her as he tasted her, sucking and licking up every last drop.

"Fuck." He looked down at her with a satisfied grin. "I think I'll have to make you cum every day now. I seriously can’t get enough of this shit.”

Jungkook helped her get into a more comfortable position, allowing her arched back to rest.

She took initiative, eagerly kissed him the second he looked away.

He couldn’t help but smirk into her mouth, his tongue slipping into her mouth to taste herself.

Not that it would stop her.

He pulled back and looked down at her again. “You’re a lot dirtier than I thought Ms. Y/n.” He chuckled.

“I just didn’t realize how much— how bad— I needed you.” She admitted.

"You needed me?" Jungkook asked, his voice low and husky.

He reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face, his fingers grazing her cheek.

"You're mine now, aren't you? You need me to take care of you? I’ll do just that.” He pecked her lips.

He got up from the bed, walking over to his large closet.

He searched an empty shoebox, before finding what he needed.

He strides back over to his bed. “Condom. Just forgot.” He pecked her lips once more.

“Need you missionary tonight baby. I’m trying to be a gentleman.” He smiled smugly.

She didn’t say anything, slithering the condom from his fingertips.

She maintained eye contact with him, tearing the package open with her teeth.

“May I?” She placed her hands on his belt buckle, “Please.”

“Fuck. You’re gonna make this so hard.” He cussed. “Put it on.”

She hurriedly unbuckled his belt, sliding his pants down and pulling out his cock from his boxers.

She gasped.

It caught her so off guard. She didn’t think he looked like that at all.

Now she knew why he talked a big game about his dick.

The boasting and bragging finally made sense to her.

“You okay?” He chuckled. “Just noticed the rumors were true hm?”

She nodded quietly.

“It’s all yours Y/n.” He hummed. “Slip it on. I’m aching right now.”

She nodded, snapping out of her trance. She slid the thin material onto his length, trying to hide the enthusiasm displayed on her face.

Once the condom fit comfortably on his dick, he laid the girl on her back.

He positioned himself between her legs, double checking her comfort before his own.

She looked up, staring at him hovering over her. She had a blush spread across her cheeks. “I’m loving the view right now.”

Jungkook chuckled, pleased by her admiring gaze. "I'm glad you finally like what you see, baby.”

“But I definitely have the better view. You're gorgeous, all flushed and spread out for me." He hummed.

She giggled in response, too flushed to continue.

Jungkook grinned and slowly pushed inside her, savoring the tight heat enveloping his cock.

“Oh fuck,” He cussed, not expecting her to be so tight after what he already did to her.

“Fuck, you feel amazing." He started to move, thrusting steadily in and out of her. "So wet and tight for me... shit I can’t think.”

He was finally inside of her and she felt even better that he had ever imagined. He fit inside her like a missing puzzle piece.

“Fuck Jungkook.” She whispered out his name, still adjusting to him.

“Y/n... fuck... so good..." He panted, his eyes locked on hers as he started to move more urgently, driven by the intense pleasure of finally being deep inside her.

"You were made for me, weren't you? This sweet pussy, it's mine now. Isn’t it Y/n?” He panted.

“Mm fuck- all yours Jungkook” She nodded vigorously. “Shit that’s good.”

Jungkook groaned, feeling her tighten around him even more. "That's it, baby, take my cock... milk it."

He pistoned into her harder and faster, the bed creaking with the force of their movements. "You love this dick, do you baby?“

”Y-Yes I-I do” She swallowed, body working up a sweat at the heat.

“Such a pretty girl. Had to beat my dick to the idea of this for years.” Jungkook growled, his grip on her hips tightening as he drove into her harder and faster.

"You make it so worth it. So fucking worth it." He went on.

“Jungkook you’re making me feel so good— never had dick like this” She hiccuped.

Jungkook smirked, his hands running up and down her body possessively. "Gonna get dick like this for the rest of your fucking life."

He grunted, thrusting deeper. "No other man will ever touch you like I do, make you cum like I do.”

She was in a crazed and corrupt state of mind.

It’s like he hit the right spots instantly.

“Shit.” She cussed, knowing damn well he was right.

He fucked her so good she probably wouldn’t be able to get the same sensation from anyone but him.

“So hard to fuck you like a gentleman.” He began, “Shits too fucking hard.”

“No one fucking told you to.” She growled, “Need more. I don’t care how you do it.”

Jungkook chuckled, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Not at all?”

“Not at all.” She bit her lip, smirking.

He easily noticed the glimmer in her eyes when she agreed, and he knew just where to go from there.

His dirty words were ones out of a romance novel. She didn’t even know real men even acted like this.

She didn’t complain.

He worshipped her body in no way she thought anyone could.

When she became devoted to being single, she thought her vibrator could be the only thing to ever make her cum.

Now she knew she was wrong.

And to throw that shit away.

"Such a dirty girl. All mine." His hand reached down to squeeze her throat in a dominant gesture, knowing she liked it. "You take dick so well babe."

“All for you.” She answered. She didn’t realize how easy it would be for him to turn her out but she wasn’t complaining.

"My girl." He praised, rewarding her with a particularly hard thrust that made her gasp.

"Now come for me baby. I’m fucking close and I need you to cum with me." His hand slid between their bodies to rub her clit, determined to make her cum on his cock too.

“Can you feel how close I am?” He almost let out a whimper in her ear. “I’m so lost inside you.”

“Y-Yes.” She replied to the lewd plea, “Mm close too”

“I feel it pretty girl I feel it.” His voice soothed her. “Shit shit”

He fucked her good until he could feel her orgasm reach its peak.

Soon after he quickly pulled out, cumming on her stomach.

He collapsed right beside of her, panting and cussing as he tried to catch his breath.

Jungkook lay beside her, still trying to catch his breath as he stared at the sight of her cum-covered stomach.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he said in a rough voice.

Jungkook got up, wiping himself off before returning to the bed with a warm towel.

He gently cleaned her up, taking his time to ensure he didn't miss a spot.

He used the rest of his energy to clean her up.

Once done, he tossed the towel aside and laid back down beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

She pecked his cheeks and lips happily and satisfied. “So much for trying to be cute and romantic tonight.”

Jungook chuckled and pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"We'll have plenty of time for romance later, babe," He laughed. “Isn’t it better for us to get comfortable like this now? You already know everything about me.”

“That’s true.”

“I thought I knew everything about you.” He stared into her.

“What do you mean?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

“I didn’t know you were a fucking freak!” He laughed. “All conservative and shy… You’re a fake. You’re a fucking sex maniac I’m appalled.”

He put his hand on his chest. “You had me fooled.”

“Oh my gosh.” She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t give me that. I’m not the fake. I’m very open with how I am.” He shook his head.

“I hate you.”

“No. You like me.” A stupid grin was spread on his face. “Finally.”

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vaguely-concerned · 3 months ago

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the things it adds to both of the characters involved that lucanis used to have a thing for viago could not have been more tailor made to be for me. literally the ideal thing to come out of this game for me personally and specifically and spiritually. I mean I'm teia x viago trash until the day I die and nothing will ever change this (and with the best will in the world and even the power of lucanis' big beautiful soulful eyes, that would never have worked out even if viago DID somehow understand he was being propositioned. which I'm not convinced he did. the mutual 'so. snakes are pretty cool huh. and. knives. also' awkward energy without someone of teia's charisma and people skills involved to mitigate it... it would have been dire), but on so many levels I find it so incredibly charming for what it says about them both that the (one-sided) attraction was there once.

what's more, it means the man about whom this legendary paragraph was written:

Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood.

has got some of the hottest coolest deadliest people in thedas down so catastrophically bad it's got them acting unwise. teia had to wait a UST-drenched decade for him to be ready to take his fucking gloves off for her. and she did!! the tetchiest most neurotic least approachable little vetinari knockoff of a man you ever saw has game for days and days and lives rent free in heads for years. in eight little talons viago consistently feels so inadequate up against dante and it's like. man I'm shaking you by the lapels you have what he'll never have. the ability to bewitch body and soul with your terrible personality and long thin legs. do not waste the gift you've been given go get her she's waiting!!!

(lucanis is really good at reading people, so I wonder if maybe he saw through all of that to some of the steadiness and incredible capacity for warmth and tenderness in specific interpersonal relationships you see viago have with teia when he finally opens up enough, and maybe that was part of it. either way it's so perfect that both he and teia have regarded viago with this affectionate intrigued amusement. lucanis still seems pretty fond of him in a 'viago continues to be exactly himself no matter what else happens or goes wrong. comforting universal constant' sort of way, he brings him up quite a lot in party banter.)

you've seen lucanis' game in this day and age, arguably or at least hopefully older and wiser -- can you imagine how catastrophically bad it must have been back when he presumably handed viago, most paranoid man in thedas all years running, a knife like this expressed everything it needed to. people give him so much shit for the cake moment being his big romantic lock-in, but considering where we started that is GROWTH and I for one am so proud of him fhsdkjaf.

also I wonder at what point vis-a-vis that whole Situation teia and viago met for the first time, leading us to ask... just how much was it a matter of lucanis simply being ignored out of a lack of interest on viago's part (tbf, not entirely unlikely). how much was it lucanis truly not managing to make himself understood. (all but certainly. literally how would one understand that. I think it says some sweet things about rook and lucanis' dynamic that they -- somehow -- DO pick up what he's putting down in a similar scenario presumably b/c they know him pretty well by then haha.) how much was it viago interpreting the romantic move as a death threat from one of the most dangerous people alive and freaking out. (1000% and indubitably.) and how much was it andarateia steal-your-girl cantori turning up and thus setting off whatever spectacular, volatile, awesome-in-the-original-sense chemical reaction between the substances of her and viago's souls that goes on to this day and makes everything else kind of a side note at best. a gentle mix of several of these things, perhaps. ...god I love all these characters so much

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #viago de riva #andarateia cantori #teia x viago #it's so good to see the characters from extended media get the love they deserve now that everyone is getting to know them btw #like yes hello. this is teia and viago. I would do anything for them. thank you all for joining me in being willing to do anything for them #we are in fact all Correct about this #thinking about younger lucanis anxiously contemplating how to best make his feelings known and settling on THAT.......#it fills me with such an unspeakable aching tenderness for him haha. most autistic guy in thedas truly just trying his best #his best is extremely weird but no less earnest for it #like I think he's naturally just like that and then you get the severely undersocialized aspect from how caterina raised them #and here we are. but he is everything to me still

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demonic0angel · 2 months ago

Note

Ma'am, I need more of Dan/Wraith in Arkham 😭 and maybe him managing to get out and meeting Dick again. Pretty please with strawberry cream on top 🥹🥹

(I’m lowkey surprised by how many people like this AU XD It got rather long lmao)

Part 1, part 2, part 4

Selina stared at the man that was sitting in her living room alongside her best friends. Harley was happily chattering his ear off, with Ivy interjecting now and then. The man, Wraith, patiently listened to Harley’s ranting, with only a little objecting whenever she went off-topic too much. He did not breathe and he rarely blinked, similar to a statue.

Or she supposed he was more like a phantom, with his abilities that he had used to help them all escape Arkham when they had attracted too many guards’ attentions.

Although he was creepy and he made the temperature of her living room drop several times, he had helped them all and he was very polite. She couldn’t find any real fault in him except the way her instincts wanted her to not look at him directly, like a haunted painting.

“So now that we’re free, what do you wanna do?” Harley asked. Selina focused back on the conversation, as Wraith hummed and Ivy and Harley turned to look at her with various levels of eagerness.

“There’s a new jewelry exhibit opening up tomorrow. Want to take some diamonds?” Selina asked, speaking up as she glanced at Wraith.

Wraith hummed. “Thank you, but I think I’ll decline. If any of you need help, I am willing to offer my services, but—”

“Is Nightwing still in Gotham?” Harley asked, interrupting Wraith, who glared at her.

Selina raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. He’s still visiting.”

“Actually, I would love to assist you three in any way. My powers are at your service. What time are we going to the exhibit tomorrow?” Wraith suddenly said, looking very eager. Selina blinked at the whiplash before looking at Harley and Ivy, who both looked amused.

It was Ivy who mouthed the words, ‘He likes Nightwing,’ to her, which made her hold back a laugh.

She could remember that little Robin that used to cheerfully break someone’s face with a flying somersault, and that same little boy had grown up into a vigilante with almost flying abilities with the way he moved and fought. Wraith was a criminal, since he was in Arkham, but he didn’t seem too bad. In a way, it reminded her of her and Bruce.

“Well. I think Ivy and Harley can take the other vigilantes, right? I can take Batman and you’ll take Nightwing?” Selina said. Wraith perked up and nodded happily.

How cute. She was so not telling Bruce about this beforehand, so she could laugh about his expression later.

A day passed, and the four of them traveled to the museum when it was night. By now, news of Harley and Ivy being broken out was already known, so security had gotten a little more strict. Still, it was nothing with all of their expertise and Wraith’s unexplained meta abilities. They snuck in easily and looted all of the gold, gems, jewelry, and antiques they saw.

“Where’s your bag?” Selina asked, as she eyed Wraith holding some pearls and gems without a bag to contain it. He was dressed in a dark leather suit that had been originally Bruce’s cat suit— it was nice to hope that he would join her one day— but was now repurposed for Wraith. Her question was answered with a small smile from Wraith as he shoved his hand into his chest, making the gems disappear. Her eyebrows rose but she just gave a nod and moved on.

After that, the bigger and heavier items were given to Wraith to keep. Selina was almost a little worried by how much they trusted him, but Harley didn’t seem to notice and only she and Ivy had some anxiety about it. However, Wraith didn’t seem to care either, and listened to their expertise without any hesitation. It was probably because he was younger than them by at least a decade, she realized.

He was extremely fascinating, and Selina suddenly understood why Harley was so interested in him like a scientist towards a petri dish.

The Gotham heroes finally arrived, just as they loaded up everything in the car. Wraith perked up when he saw Nightwing amongst the vigilantes coming towards them.

Selina couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden cheer on his usually bored or blank expression.

“Okay, Harley, Ivy, you two go back to the hideout. Wraith, you can take me away if we need to, right?” Selina asked, smiling as she recalled Wraith’s intangibility and invisibility abilities yesterday.

Wraith nodded and the other two drove off without hesitation, leaving Selina and Wraith facing the Gotham vigilantes. Wraith wagged his clawed fingers in a greeting at Nightwing, smirking broadly.

“Hello, Nightwing. It’s good to see you again,” he purred. Selina was watching the spectacle gleefully, occasionally glancing at Batman’s covered expression, wondering if she was going to see a good show today.

Nightwing faltered in his steps before he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. However, he answered pleasantly, “Hello, Wraith. I see you’ve befriended the Sirens.”

“Mhm. They helped me a lot so I could see you again.”

Nightwing’s cheeks darkened but through the shadows, Selina felt like she could see a bit of red on his face. “I see. Well, I’ll have to ask you guys to give up the jewelry you stole. We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

“Please do the hard way,” Wraith purred again, even throatier than before. Selina had to choke on her giggles as Batman stiffened in horror, staring between his oldest son and the criminal.

Nightwing coughed and took out his escrima sticks. “Well, you’re under arrest, Wraith. Surrender and we won’t have to—”

“Oh my god, just fight him! Stop flirting!” Spoiler screamed and then they all flew into action. Selina took out her whip, but before she could make a move, Wraith darted at her, wrapped his arms around her, and then turned invisible before they flew off through the walls.

Selina blinked rapidly as she watched the museum grow smaller and smaller into the distance. “… you could fly the entire time?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, I’m very strong.” There was a touch of deep arrogance in Wraith’s voice. Then he sighed, “But I was told not to make too much trouble. So it’s better to make an early escape than stick around.”

“I would’ve thought that you would’ve stayed to flirt with Nightwing some more,” Selina teased.

“It’s weird to flirt in front of his siblings,” Wraith said in distaste as they flew over the building roofs and past the clouds to Selina’s hideout. “I’ll find another day to fight him without voyeurs around.”

Selina burst into laughter. Yeah, she could completely understand why Ivy and Harley wanted to take him in now. He really was quite interesting.

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daisyvisions · 11 months ago

Text

Change Your Mind - (l.jy)

➺ Pairing: fboy best friend!Juyeon x afab!reader

➺ Summary: You befriend your college’s resident fuckboy who’s been eager to get with you since day one. But after a rollercoaster of emotions between your friendship, he wants you more than you could ever imagine.

➺ Word Count: 4k (wow who is she?!)

➺ Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), friends to lovers, mentions of partying, drinking alcohol, fuckboy tendencies (flirting, hookups, ghosting), lying to reader (at first), lots of kissing and making out, dry humping, oral (f! receiving), slight handjob and masturbation, unprotected sex (but he pulls out), aftercare, pet names (sweetheart, baby), a lovesick Juyeon

➺ A/N: I’m officially back from my break! Really wanted to take some time off and focus on things irl, can’t really say if the break helped bcos I was still stressed haha but anyway!This took me a while to finish up, felt incredibly rusty writing again but glad I was still able to do it 😭 Considering this as my late birthday greeting for Juyeon. Hope you enjoy this piece! Proofread once. Let me know if I missed anything!

➺ Network & Tag: @deoboyznet, and my girlies @aimeecarreros @snowflakewhispers @winterchimez

If anyone told you that you’d end up becoming best friends with one of the most sought out guys in your campus (and not to mention resident fuck boy), you would’ve laughed at their face. All your life you’ve tried to avoid befriending guys like Juyeon. A guy like him just generally gave you the ick.

You never understood how or why people would want to be friends with someone whose only objective is to get into girl’s pants and be praised for it. Not only that, but also playing with someone’s feelings and just dropping them at an instant was wrong on so many levels.

But here you are, lending him a helping hand while you two clean out his living room after throwing yet another one of his bi-weekly parties, which was usually code for “Please let me at least make out with someone tonight.”

It’s crazy how you consider him one of your bestest friends. In another world you both knew this friendship would never work out. You were both opposite of each other in so many ways!

So how did you even end up becoming friends with Juyeon?

Transferring to a different university in the middle of the semester was one of the worst things that could've happened to you. Not only did you have to adjust to a new set of lesson plans and navigate your way around campus, but you also had to sit alone during lunch since practically everyone already knew each other from freshman year and had their own set of cliques.

During your first week, you thought you could at least find a table you could sit with just by going up to the group you vibed with the most and ask politely. But you decided to just sit by yourself instead and avoid any embarrassing introductions. You refused to be known as the weird new girl (which you already felt like one to begin with.)

You tried to fight off the tears emerging from the corners of your eyes as you sat quietly in the corner of the cafeteria, slowly poking the food on your tray as you try to drown out the noise around you.

You wish you didn’t have to transfer and leave everything and everyone you knew behind. Yes, you can still call or text your friends, but you knew it was different than actually being with them on campus.

You were convinced you’d be alone for the rest of your years in college. No friends to hang out, laugh, or cry with. No one to go through the same struggles as you. No one to tell you that everything was going to be okay. You were definitely on your own until-

“Hey.” The voice suddenly snapping you out of your self-loathing as you look up and see probably one of the most handsome men you have ever seen in your life.

The way his eyes held so much love, how his smile could light up anyone’s day, and how his aura was something you never felt with anyone before. He was practically radiating sunshine to your already gloomy day. It almost felt too good to be true… Because what the hell was he doing here in front of you?

“…Hi?” You sit up straight as you try to subtly dab off the tears in your eyes.

“I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all alone.” The man gently says.

Great, the first thing he notices about you is how much of a loser you are. But before you could even say anything back he continues on.

“Would you like to come sit with us? We have some space for you at our table.” He slowly smiles at you. You hesitated at first, confused by the whole situation but quickly made up your mind.

“Uh… yeah, sure! If it’s not any trouble.” You shyly respond.

“Of course not! Can’t let a pretty thing like you be all alone on her first week here right?” He holds out his hand to you.

“How did you-”

“I’m Juyeon.” He interrupts you again. You tell him your name, your cheeks slowly warming up as your hand intertwines with his as he looks deeply into your eyes.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He smirks. You felt the butterflies raging within your stomach.

“So, let’s go?” He waits for your response, but you shyly nod your head instead as proper words get caught up in your throat. Grabbing his hand as you stand up and follow his lead.

You try not to make a fool out of yourself as you feel Juyeon’s hand rest on your lower back as you guides you through the sea of people. As you two are walking towards his table he leans close to your ear and whispers,

“We’re gonna be best friends, I promise.”

And ever since that day Juyeon really did keep his promise. He helped you catch up with some of the lesson plans you had, guided you around school, and always made sure to leave a space for you beside him during lunch.

You tried to wrap your brain around the idea of how someone like Juyeon just randomly entered your life and swept you off your feet. At first you felt like you were on cloud nine getting the most attention and almost boyfriend-like treatment from him. But as the weeks went by you soon discover that his reputation actually preceded him more than you thought.

You see, it was no secret that Juyeon was somewhat of a playboy. Well, somewhat was an understatement. During the first few weeks since you became friends he would walk you to class almost every time. In those moments you couldn’t understand why people would give you such weird looks or whisper to each other whenever you two would pass by.

Maybe it was because you stuck out like a sore thumb as the new girl? You decided not to mind it for a while, pushing down the thought that you were just overthinking all of this… that is until you accidentally learned about his reputation and the real reason why he approached you that day.

It was an accident. You were never meant to find out anything about Juyeon. But during a party that he brought you to, a certain loosed-lip drunk friend (Eric) decided to spill everything to you, down to every letter and detail imaginable.

To be honest, it didn’t bother you when you found out that Juyeon was indeed a fuck boy. You saw the signs as the weeks passed by.

The way he would flirt with someone while waiting for you to finish class, how the notifications on his phone would show a name of a different girl every week, and even the subtle touches he would leave on you which were definitely not considered friendly but not perverted either. What bothered you the most was finding out the reason why he even wanted to be friends with you.

“He’s been really working up to have his way with you, you know? And I mean who could blame him? Have you seen yourself? You’re so fucking hot-” Eric rambles on to you as he tries to lean his body against the wall to keep himself upright, slowly inching his way closer to you. You felt your blood boil in that moment, completely ignoring Eric’s advances.

How could Juyeon do this to you? Even after everything you shared with him about your life, your struggles, your secrets too? And to think you were starting to feel like he could be a really great friend to you. But this? Hell no. You were not about to let some handsome sleazy guy use you like that. Not in this or any lifetime.

You nearly crush the plastic red cup in your hand before storming out of the house, intentionally pushing past Juyeon’s shoulder in the way as he tries to approach you with the most concerned look you had ever seen on his face.

He ran after you that night. He even dropped on his knees begging for forgiveness in front of a crowd of drunk college people too. Over the top sure, but somehow you knew his apology wasn’t just a one and done thing.

And after the humiliating lecture you gave him as well as the list of promises he had said he will be doing in order to make up for his mistakes, you decided to give him another chance.

In return of accepting his apology, you offered to help him get out of his fuck boy tendencies and be his “guardian angel”. Juyeon was reluctant of the idea at first because it would mean he couldn’t be free to do as he pleased but he eventually gave in. He had to because well… He did owe you a lot for lying to you in the first place.

Somewhere in your mind you knew this could turn out to be a bad idea. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me, or however the saying goes. But Juyeon was different.

You knew somewhere in that deep conceited mind of his there was a version of him that was actually a good guy. A guy that can actually learn how to not fool around and maybe one day, find someone worth changing for.

You can tell it was a struggle for him at the beginning. But eventually he started to lessen the flirting, the hookups, the ghosting, and more.

Gone were the days where Juyeon had a line of women wrapped around his fingers (because they were too many of them to count). Dating was still a thing for him, but he had said and even showed you that he would take them seriously and not just move onto the next one as easily as he did before.

Eventually you realized over time that Juyeon turning over a new leaf was also becoming a struggle for you especially at parties when he would come up to you nearly drunk out of his mind, his subconscious would revert back to his old habits and he would act them all out on you.

His hands subtly snaking around your hips, your waist, how he would brush the hair off your neck and leave a warm kiss on shoulder. The way he would smile at you like a lovesick fool, never leaving your side as he attempts to drop his corny pickup lines.

Or the way he would jokingly confess how badly he wanted to kiss you. You knew he wasn’t in the right state of mind, that he was just being his old self. But it really did confuse you because sometimes it felt all too real.

Now you understood why someone could fall so easily for Juyeon. It was second nature to him.

You tried so hard not to give into his appetite especially in those moments. But it was becoming difficult each time since you the crush you had on him from the first day you met was screaming to be set free, desperate to overtake your heart and soul and just allow him to do as he pleased, no matter the consequences.

The many “what-if’s” that crossed your mind when you were alone in your room at night had plagued you constantly. Your walls were starting to crack and it was making you lose your self control around him.

“Maybe one little kiss wouldn’t hu-” No. You shouldn’t. The whole point of staying friends with Juyeon was to guide him to being a better person. It wasn’t about you or how you felt at all!

But… how bad could it be to become selfish just one moment in your life?

“Wow, I’m so tired.” Juyeon plops down on the sofa as you finish up collecting all the empty bottles and cups around the room. After the last bottle was thrown inside the trash bag you washed your hands and plopped right next to him.

You instantly close your eyes and let out a huge sigh of relief, showing the same exhaustion as he felt. As you stay silent and enjoy this quiet moment, Juyeon can’t help but just stare at you. He watches how your chest slowly moves up and down and tries to commit to memory the little details of your face.

You look so beautiful right now, he thinks to himself. As you always have since the first time he saw you. But he pushes down the feeling deep within his gut, having given up pursuing you a while back. But it doesn't hurt to look every once in a while right?

As soon as you open your eyes again, you catch him staring at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite read. You chuckle at how silly he’s being and turn your body slightly to face him.

“What?” You ask.

“I-It’s nothing.” He shakes his head.

“C’mon, what is it? You can tell me.” You semi pout, and how can Juyeon say no to you?

“I was thinking-”

“Oh no he’s thinking.” You fake gasp and giggle as he playfully nudges your shoulder in return.

“It’s just- I still can’t believe how we ended up as friends despite everything, you know?” He smiles gently.

“Me too.” You respond, “To be honest, if I had known about your reputation before we met I would’ve rejected you that day.”

“Yeah?” Juyeon’s eyes grow wider as he scoots closer to you. He places his hand on your knee, making you become nervous all of a sudden. “And why is that?”

“W-well…” you feel a lump forming in your throat, the way his cologne invades your thoughts and has your head slowly spinning. Is it getting hot in here or is that just you?

“Because, guys like you just aren’t my type that’s all. And well-”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Juyeon interrupts you as he looks into your eyes. You nod in response.

“I haven't been with anyone else ever since that night you confronted me about my behavior.” He pauses for a moment. Dead silence filled the air as he waited for your response while you tried to grasp what he was trying to say.

“Huh? What about that girl you were with last week? Or the one you were texting?” You softly ask.

“I... I lied about them.” Juyeon looks away from you, afraid to look at your reaction. He looks up at the ceiling, pushing down any regret he’s feeling at the moment admitting the truth to you.

“But, why?” Your voice laced with concern.

“It felt wrong to be with those girls. To even think about kissing or touching them the way I would've back then, because…” He looks back at you, his hand on your knee now traveling up to your lap.

“…All I ever thought about in those moments was you.”

You felt your heart running a mile a minute. Eyes widening at his sudden confession.

“God you’re so beautiful it kills me inside.” he raises his hand and cups your jaw, thumb slowly stroking your cheek as his gaze turns into something more than just lust.

You subtly catch him quickly looking at your lips, your eyes nearly fluttering shut as he leans in closer. And with your lips just millimeters apart, he suddenly stops.

“But who am I kidding? I know you don’t see me that way-” Juyeon retracts his head, his face expressing a certain kind of sadness you can’t seem to properly label. You can feel your heart pounding in your ears as you watch him slowly slip away from you.

“Juyeon I-”

“It’s alright, I’m probably drunk. Just- forget what I said.” He shakes his head, but before he can attempt to get up from the couch, you grab his wrist. “No.” You sternly say.

Juyeon slowly sits back down on the couch and scoots really close to you, thighs pressing against one another. His eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for what you have to say or do.

“S-show me. Show me you mean it. Every word you just said.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that.” Juyeon lunges forward and wastes no time as he leans in to kiss you. His pillowy lips feeling like heaven as he guides your lips with his, both melting into one another like it was always meant to be.

As your arms start to wrap around his neck Juyeon pulls you in closer, his body slowly falls backwards onto the couch. His hands desperately grabbing your hips to make you straddle his lap.

Juyeon whimpers into your mouth as soon as his straining bulge rubs against your core. His member throbs harder as you begin to roll your hips subconsciously.

He’s fucked way too many times to count but for some reason, grinding yourself onto his crotch makes him feel like an untouched virgin all over again.

He swears he can burst inside his boxers any second now if you keep doing this to him, especially with the soft little moans coming out of your mouth that sound so sweet.

Juyeon pulls away from your lips and starts to kiss your neck, mapping out his kisses until he finds the spot that makes you melt into a puddle. He knows he’s found that spot as your moans become louder and drag on longer.

He starts to wrap his arms around your torso and without warning, he flips you both over, making you squeal as he giggles at your reaction. His eager hands waste no time to unbutton your jeans as he continues to leave marks on your neck. You slightly push him away as you feel him slowly sneaking one hand into your pants.

“Wait-” You grab his wrist before he goes any further.

“Do you want to stop?” He waits for your answer.

“No it’s not that.” Your eyes close for a moment as you catch your breath.

“It’s- well- It’s been a while I've since done this. I- I might not be good for you.” Juyeon senses the worry in your eyes. He leans down to kiss the space between your eyebrows, his free hand caressing your cheek.

“Oh sweetheart… you’ll always be too good for me.” He smiles down at you. “You sure you still want this?” You nod your head instantly.

“Use your words baby, need to hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” His hand travels to your neck and gives it a soft squeeze. The act alone is enough to get you dizzy again.

“Want you- want you to touch me, please.” You look up at him so innocently.

Juyeon leans in to kiss you passionately once more, his tongue immediately intertwining with yours. He helps you out of your pants in the process not wanting to pull his lips away from yours until he tugs the hem of your shift and lifts it off, leaving you wearing nothing but your underwear on.

His kisses start to travel oh so slowly from your lips all the way to your inner thighs. Juyeon can feel himself pre cumming at the deep inhale of your panty covered core. The wet patch luring him in to kiss it and practically mouth your covered folds.

You let out yet another ethereal moan as your fingers weave through his hair. His hands slowly pull the garter of your underwear down, throwing the damp material behind him as he continues on with his ministrations.

Juyeon wastes no time and grabs the back of your thighs and placing them over his shoulder, making sure that his face is locked onto your throbbing core. He kisses your folds before suddenly darting his warm wet tongue between them, reveling in the taste of you before flicking your sensitive bud. He looks up to watch your reactions, which motivate him to keep on going.

“P-please…” You whine as he hums and sucks on your clit. Juyeon doesn’t even need you to tell him what you want, by the sound of your moans and the way your thighs slowly squeeze his head he knows you’re getting closer to the edge.

He nearly lets go himself when you reach your high without warning, the sudden burst of your essence onto his lips as you moan out his name was something he never thought would feel so divine.

He pulls himself up and goes back to kissing you, tasting yourself on his tongue has your core throbbing for him once again. Your hands hastily helping him unbutton his own pants along with his boxers as he pulls them down and kicks them to the side.

Your mouth waters at the sight of his impressive length, your hand instantly wrapping around his member as you stroke him slowly. “Oh s-shit.” He growls into your ear.

“Want you inside me Juyeon, want you to fuck me.” You whisper in his ear. He grabs your wrist to stop, holding his own member as he aligns it with your entrance.

“Don’t want to fuck you-” He mumbles. You pull away from him, confused by his words. His other hand grabs the back of your neck as he pulls your face closer to his.

“-Want to make love to you.” He whispers into your mouth. And before you know it he’s pushing his entire cock inside you, bottoming out instantly. You both moan into each other’s mouths at the stretch. Juyeon moves his hips slowly as he starts to fuck you deeply, making sure you feel all of him going in and out of your pussy.

Juyeon wishes this moment could last forever, but the way your walls grip onto his member like a vice brings him closer to the edge faster than he had hoped. Especially with how you’re moaning into his mouth and wrapping your arms around his neck so tight? He was a goner.

He’s never fucked anyone like this before, and now he can’t imagine doing this with anyone else except you.

With every deep thrust, you feel yourself on the verge of cumming for the second time. Each stroke hitting that sweet spot in you has you reaching for the stars.

“Fuck Juyeon, you’re gonna make me cum again.” You whine as the wet sounds you're both making has you feeling dizzy.

“C’mon sweetheart, cum on my cock. God you can keep cumming on my cock as much as you want I don’t care.” His thrusts start to pick up the pace. “I’m yours forever.”

Those three words were enough to snap the coil within, breathing heavily as your walls flutter around his length. You’re so caught up in your own head you don’t realize Juyeon uttering a string of whimpers until you feel him quickly pull out his cock and blow his load all over your stomach.

The both of you take a moment to calm down from your highs before Juyeon gets up to each for the box of tissue on the coffee table. You watch him gently clean you up before he pulls his boxers back on to find your discarded underwear and also helps you put it back on.

He hovers above you before leaning down to leave small kisses around your face and on your lips. You caress his cheek slowly as he leans into your touch.

“Did you mean it? Everything you said?” You softly ask him.

“Down to every letter.” He responds. “But… I think you broke me.”

“Broke you? How?” You playfully scrunch your eyebrows at him.

“Don’t want to see myself with anyone else now.”

“Oh really?” You raise an eyebrow. “And how should I fix it then?” He smirks and kisses you again,

“Let me take you out on a date and we’ll call it even.”

#deoboyznet #juyeon smut #lee juyeon #juyeon #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hard hours #tbz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #tbz drabbles #the boyz scenarios #tbz hard hours #kpop smut

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t-horn-n · 1 month ago

Text

— the nights the wind grows teeth

pairing: silco x hard of hearing!reader (female)

genre: a little of everything

summary: a simple introduction, briefly.

word count: 1 311

note: I have an unserious headcanon that Silco doesn’t drink anything from the Last Drop since Vander’s not the one pouring them.

anyway, prolly gonna be a series ???

You possess a capacity for calmness that so often escapes fissure folk. It’s a quality that Silco appreciates even if that sort of level-headedness is off-putting to most, to the extent that many believe you’re either a stone cold bitch or just stupid enough to live in a constant state of ignorant bliss.

Silco supposes that, temperamentally, you remind him of himself. Sevika has his passion, but she also has a tendency to think with her fists. Jinx has his intellect and intuition but she’s inclined to act out on her own. You actually can exhibit an amount of forethought. And, well, past the three of you, he can’t claim to be interested in anyone else.

“Go home, kid,” Sevika says into your good ear. “You’ve done enough for the day.”

It’s barely eleven at night and you know that she’s going to be running around for the next three hours, at least. That, and you’re actually Sevika’s senior by a year, give or take. She just likes to play big sister once in a while. You like to let her.

And you can’t say that you mind getting off a little early to sit in one of the Last Drop’s booths until you’re tired enough that you’ll be asleep on your feet by the time you trudge back to your bed. Well actually, if you’re more inclined to be honest, which you aren’t, you would admit that you’re hoping it’ll be one of those occasions where your generous benefactor will slide into the seat across from you and lean forward so that you can light his cigar. You’ve never quite understood why he likes the things considering that the fissures already have their fair share of smoke.

Sometimes he’ll talk about the week’s plans, monologuing into your good ear, or he’ll talk about Jinx. On other nights, when he knows that the ringing in your bad ear is particularly bad, he’ll let you sit in silence, watching his smoke writhe beneath the Last Drop’s grimy green light.

Everyone knows that Silco is clever, but he is also observant, and he knows that it’s the biting, frosty nights that your hearing is the worst. The uncomfortable whine is the loudest and even the sounds that you can hear become smothered and unfocused.

It’s also when that unrequited ache, bone-deep, is the most needy.

You’ve only had shimmer once. It’s been too long for you to remember how it actually tasted, whether it was bitter or sweet; whether it burned your throat or whether they injected it straight into your veins. But you can remember the way that it made you feel. You’ve never been in love, but you figure that shimmer makes one as manic as love does.

When it’s cold fog stalking the Lanes, rather than just the typical Gray, your severed ear calls out for the weightless sensation shimmer provided, but you’re sure that if you indulge, even when you feel like you won’t survive the phantom pains, you won’t be able to resist the drug the next time. Or the next. You can’t say that your life is bliss, but you know that you're much better off fighting the cold with the Last Drop’s liquor than you are addicted to shimmer.

“It’s bothering you tonight,” Silco states plainly.

Before you is a glass of some mystery, clouded liquid. All you’d asked for was something strong, hoping that it’d dull the persistent thrumming in your skull. Silco, lounging across from you, has an unlit cigar dancing between his fingers. You swear you’ve never seen him drink from his own bar.

“Yes,” you admit because you know anything else will lead to a pointless argument. “But it’s not bad tonight.”

“Hm,” he hums.

You’d only been to the Last Drop once before meeting Silco, officially that is. And, you hadn’t really been there, all things considered. You had been fifteen and had your ear pressed against one of its windows in order to hear the murmurs of whomever was inside. Before you ran with Silco, you were an information runner. It was simple and clean and tidy. You’d play the part of the fly on the wall and whisper plans for hit-and-runs and smuggling jobs into the ears of your handlers and you’d get a cut. It was simple, well, until you got caught.

Now, it’s certainly true that your old job would be more difficult considering the circumstances. The reason why Silco keeps you around, you suspect, is because you can be quiet and charming, when you want to be. Your feet are coated in enough silver for you to make your way silently around the Lanes into places where people don’t want you to be. And your center is soft and gooey enough to charm Piltees into trying shimmer. Just this once, they’ll tell you. That’s how you get them.

“A shipment is going out tomorrow and I expect that it will go better than the last one,” Silco says.

He sounds submerged. He repeats himself, slowly so that you can make out the movements of his lips in the low light, then continues, “We don’t need the Fireflies disrupting our schedule any more than they already have.”

You nod and notice how odd he looks down among the general trouble of the Lanes.

“You’ll be there tomorrow,” he says and it’s a fact.

He slides out of the booth, his cigar still unlit. “It’s cold tonight.”

“I’m warm enough,” you tell him as you down the rest of your drink.

The cobblestones beneath seep cold into the soles of your feet and the alleyways shuck their frosty breath onto your back on your way to your hole-in-the-wall apartment. It’s cold there too. And dark.

There’s not really a kitchen, just a gas cooktop beside a muddy window. A single stool sits at a counter and beyond that is a bed boxed in by three walls and an old dresser.

“Hi, Jinx.”

“Aw, how’d you know I was here?” she croons.

“I heard the sound of your breathing.”

“No you didn’t,” she laughs.

“No,” you agree. “But you left my door unlocked.”

“Oops.”

You toss your jacket at her as you flip the light on, and Jinx is there, perched on your windowsill. She swats away your oncoming jacket.

“Close the window.”

“You’re bossy. Has anyone ever told you that?” she asks, twirling her hair around her fingers.

She follows you into your bedroom and falls backward onto your bed. She’s appeared in your apartment enough times that this is all routine, practically. At least you’ve trained her to keep her boots off your bed.

“Mhm,” you reply.

Your fingers are cold and slow moving as you unlace your shoes, tug them off, and throw them on top of your dresser. You press your palm against the spot where you ear should be trying to warm it up.

“He sent you to make sure I didn’t trip up the stairs?” you ask, a little sarcastically but really, you’re somewhat flattered.

She groans and doesn’t answer you. “He’s bossy too,” she whines.

“He is.”

You fall onto the bed next to her head.

“Did you know that you’re the only one he comes down to that shitty bar for?”

“Mm?” You only caught half of her sentence.

“He just sits in that chair and frowns.”

Jinx always makes enough conversation for both of you. You wonder how often she fills in your parts herself.

It’s likely stupid of the thought to even cross your mind, but on these particularly cold nights when you are feeling particularly unlike yourself—when you are in pain and you crave what you shouldn’t have and your regrets feel the most potent—Silco feels particularly like a friend. You almost scoff. That’s a dangerous thought.

“If you’re sleeping here, you’re getting the light,” you tell Jinx.

— m. list

#x reader #silco x reader #silco #silco arcane #silco fanfiction #arcane x reader #arcane fanfiction #arcane season 2

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insidekatmind · 24 days ago

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Resistance~Hwang in-ho

Request: yes!

The room was enveloped in an almost oppressive silence, the sound of the participants’ breathing filling the air. Every bunk was occupied, except for one, that of Hwang In-ho, better known as Frontman. As player number 001, he had earned everyone’s trust, managing to manipulate his fellow players’ minds without anyone ever suspecting him. But there was one person who didn’t fall for his charm, who wasn’t fooled by his sweet words and calculated moves: you.

After the team game, in which many had lost their lives, you found yourself in the room, lying on your bunk, staring silently at the empty top bunk. The thought of what had just happened tormented you, but there was also something you couldn’t explain. You couldn’t understand how you were the only one who realized something was off with Frontman.

The others avoided you, not wanting to hear your theories. They still believed he was just another man, someone who had been lucky enough to survive the first game, someone who wouldn’t hurt anyone. But you, with a clarity that seemed out of place in such a context, had noticed too much.

And just as you were reflecting, the door to the room opened, breaking the silence as Frontman entered with his confident stride, as if he were at home. His presence exuded an unsettling calm, yet there was something in his eyes that betrayed his interest in you. He knew you were the only one who didn’t bend to his will. And for him, that was a challenge he couldn’t ignore.

He approached your bunk and stopped right in front of you. His voice, soft but firm, resonated in the air. "You know, it’s not easy being the only one to see the world for what it is. Most prefer to close their eyes and follow the current. But you… you’re different."

You stayed silent, still looking up. You could feel his attention on you, but you weren’t about to give in."It’s not about being different. It’s about seeing beyond appearances."

Frontman smiled slightly, as if he had finally found someone worth talking to. Then he sat on the bunk next to yours, gazing at you with a penetrating look."You have an interesting intuition. But you’re wrong if you think I’m like the others. I’m not here to play by the rules, those rules you’re trying to follow."

"And I don’t want to play this game anymore. I’ve seen too many things I don’t like. And you, Frontman, are one of those things." You said.

His smile widened, but not in anger. Instead, he seemed pleased, as though he had finally found someone who wasn’t easily swayed by his power. "You never should have come. But now that you’re here, you have the chance to understand what it really means to be here, in this game."

There was a long silence between us, where neither of us spoke, but we both understood we were operating on different levels. You were the only one who wouldn’t be manipulated, but he wasn’t going to let you slip away so easily.

"Why don’t you stay with me? We could be powerful together. I can give you what you want, what the others will never give you." In-ho said.

You knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was offering you power, an escape that sounded too tempting to be true. But you would never give in. Your resistance intrigued him more and more, and every attempt he made to get closer made the anger inside you grow, something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

"There’s nothing you can offer me that’s worth it. These games are your prison, and in the end, you’ll be trapped just like the others." you replied

In ho raised an eyebrow, visibly amused by your response. His smile was enigmatic, as though he was reflecting on something deeper."We’ll see how long you last. In the end, you’ll understand there’s no way out. You either bend, or you perish."

His gaze grew more intense, as though he wanted to engrave every word in my mind. But I wasn’t afraid. I wouldn’t give in.

And so, the tension between us remained suspended, like a tight rope ready to snap. I knew this was just the beginning.

#hwang in ho imagine #hwang in ho smut #hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #squid game x oc #squid game imagine #squid game smut #squid game x y/n #squid game #squid game x reader #squid game x you #player 001 #front man #front man x reader #front man x you

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ghostlyferrettarot · 2 months ago

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✨Pick a Picture: 🌸🪷What makes you irresistible?🪷🌸

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

🌸If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🌸

💐Masterlist💐

🧡Pile 1: The Empress, The Sun, The Knight of Cups.

Hi pile 1! You have a physique that is natural and magnetic, many are drawn to you. Your presence has an enveloping quality, as if you were a person who radiates warmth and harmony. People are drawn to your innate elegance and your ability to make every space around you feel special. Your energy is bright, optimistic, and contagious. There always seems to be something about you that brightens up someone else's day. This energetic vibe makes you the center of attention effortlessly, simply by being who you are. People want to be around you because your energy is revitalizing and full of life.

You may have a dreamy and romantic touch. You are someone who inspires deep feelings in others. I feel like this is a passionate group, the ability to connect with others on an emotional level is one of your most irresistible traits. People feel comfortable in your presence because you have a special way of making them feel understood and valued.

🧡Message from your higher self: Your irresistible appeal comes from your inner harmony, your radiant energy, and the emotional depth you offer to those around you. The combination of your natural physique and emotional warmth draws everyone in powerfully and genuinely, you are the Sun.

💙Pile 2: The Moon, 3 of Cups, The High Priestess.

Hi pile 2! You have an ethereal and mysterious quality. Your gaze may be deep or your smile enigmatic, leaving others intrigued. There is something fascinating and magnetic about your appearance, as if your presence holds some hidden magic. People may often stare, trying to figure you out, but not quite being able to. At the same time, your energy feels calm but powerful, as if you can read people just by looking at them. Your aura is reserved and enigmatic, making others feel irresistibly drawn to you without fully understanding why. You have an energy that captivates, as if you were carrying a secret up your sleeve, and that mysterious connection is what makes you so seductive.

You have an intensity that can be dangerous, but at the same time, that is what makes you so irresistible. Your personality has a duality: you are deep and mystical, but also bold and provocative. People are attracted by the passion you put into everything you do and by your ability to awaken desires and emotions in others.

💙Message from your higher self: What makes you irresistible is your aura of mystery, your deep energy and your ability to seduce with your presence. You don't need to show everything, your natural magnetism makes people stay close to you, intrigued by you, remember that.

💖Pile 3: The Star, The Lovers, Queen of Cups.

Hi pile 3! You radiate a serene and charming beauty. You may have a fresh, youthful or even ethereal appearance, as if your face and body were in perfect harmony with the universe. Your physique projects a calming energy, almost as if you are a source of inspiration for others. People see you and feel that everything is fine, simply because you are around. You are someone who knows how to balance calm and passion, which makes you extremely attractive. People are drawn to your ability to make them feel special and unique. You have that spark that makes everything around you feel perfect. You have a magnetic energy that makes others want to be by your side.

Still, you have a strong, determined personality full of ambition. You have an unstoppable energy that inspires others to follow their dreams. You are a dynamic person who stops at nothing, which generates admiration and respect in those around you. Your confidence is palpable and that makes your attractiveness increase considerably. People see in you someone who knows what they want and pursues it with determination.

💖Message from your higher self: Your irresistible attractiveness comes from a perfect mix of inner and outer beauty. Your radiant physique, positive energy and determined personality make everyone around you want to be around you. You are the kind of person who inspires confidence and admiration, and that is what makes you absolutely irresistible, so don't let others make you doubt your potential.

💐Thank you for reading and tell me if it resonated💐

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frostbitebakery · 11 months ago

Text

Loud.

part one two three

“You’re impossible!”

Obi-Wan harrumphs back at Cody with feeling. The way they’re running it’s equally impossible to sign or code tap. He engages the lights on his gloves, squeezes his fingers in a rhythm and the code appears in short and long lines on the back of his hand. Which he gladly shows to Cody. “You’re one to talk.”

“Dogpiling Grievous was a calculated move,” Cody huffs back, skids to a halt at a maintenance door that Obi-Wan almost missed. While Cody types in the emergency sequence, he carefully gets his message ready.

“You’re bad at math,” Cody reads blandly when he turns around. “Very funny.”

“Careful,” he signs, fingers stiff and unwieldy as the nervousness crawls through him. Setting in his knees, making them weak. A clump in his stomach. Stiff, clumsy hands.

“You know you can change your mind any moment,” Cody says, catches his eyes and Obi-Wan sinks into the warmth. “We can stop whenever you need.”

“No.”

Cody waits for him to continue but he can’t even nod or move. The gap between their fingers feels insurmountable.

But he wants this. Needs this, on a level deeper than the trust he has in Cody.

“Shadows don’t trust easily,” he wants to say. “I do even less.” His trust is forged in pain and loss and bittersweet victories. And faith.

“I like hugging,” his fingers confess and he feels stupid for the brief moment until Cody’s face lights up.

The mask digs into his face where it’s smashed against Cody’s shoulder. Cody’s arms feel safe and unhesitating and so sure it unlocks Obi-Wan’s knees and stomach and fingers and he’s hugging back with eyes closed.

For the first time in a long, long while he wants his voice back. He doesn’t know what he’d say. And perhaps it doesn’t matter. Just the urge to pull off the mask and move his mouth—

soft lips press against his temple just over the edge of the mask, gentle fingers tap on his hand in code, “I hear you.”

You really do, don’t you, Obi-Wan thinks, watches his own hand tap in the same rushed rhythm. One short, one long, two short.

“I hear you,” Cody signs back, forehead against Obi-Wan’s brow.

Three long.

Obi-Wan never lost his voice.

Three short, one long.

Not with the people that matter.

One short.

“Me too,” Cody whispers. “Ready?”

The catches on the mask hiss as they open.

“You’re impossible!”

“You’re bad at math,” Cody reads blandly when he turns around. “Very funny.”

Obi-Wan squeezes out another message.

“It was also very hot,” Cody reads. And pauses.

Obi-Wan imagines the blush hidden by the helmet vividly and smiles.

He’s ushered with no further comment into the maintenance closet which bears entrance to some shortcuts across the Malvolence. He looks at Cody in question who shrugs.

“I briefly saw the holoprints in one of the war rooms.”

Yes. One of the many reasons this infatuation is turning into something warm and bright and unbearably sweet. Cody is making himself a place in Obi-Wan’s heart like he’s coming back home.

“We’re almost there, Sir,” Cody says suddenly, relief palpable in his voice. Master Windu must have finally reached him on comms. “Understood, Sir. No more shenanigans, Sir.”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders shake with laughter.

“The mask helps me breathe,” Obi-Wan explains, head held high under Cody’s gaze. Getting out of breath could possibly suffocate him. Too dry or humid air is painful. With the exact parameters of what his body is able to handle, the healers had settled on a mask to protect him when he runs too fast. “Or other strenuous activities,” he adds with a slight smirk.

Cody shakes his head at him with a fond smile that tingles in Obi-Wan’s chest pleasantly. His thumb caresses the web of scars going from Obi-Wan’s bottom lip. “Can you feel that?”

“A little bit.” Not much at all, when it comes down to it. Kissing has become unimportant to him out of necessity. Few people had wanted to kiss him in the first place when the scars had still looked fresh. He’s lucky his jaw hadn’t needed to be replaced, so he’s not complaining.

It had been difficult nonetheless. To work around the muteness, the way his body had been changed. He’s learned to put more importance into other gestures than kissing on the mouth.

Cody’s forehead rests against his once more, catching his hand and slowly stroking the palm, up to the fingertips. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Gestures like Cody’s.

“I didn’t expect to see you there,” Cody says as they settle into the rescue shuttle. “General Windu said we had reliable intel to do a hit and run on the Malvolence.”

Obi-Wan waves his hand, palm empty before a flick of his fingers reveals the data stick.

“Information retrieval,” Cody asks, voice changing from vocoder to his usual timbre as he lifts his helmet. “I imagine there was a lot of useful data to harvest.” The shuttle is rocked as the warship explodes. “I should’ve saved my sweets ration,” Cody murmurs, eyes reflecting fire and bone-deep satisfaction.

“You’re dying for a fabricated war,” Obi-Wan doesn’t sign. The intel he managed to get his hands on is enough to connect the missing senate funds with Serenno’s newly acquired wealth from another angle and make it waterproof.

Destabilizing a whole galaxy for— for shits and giggles. Obi-Wan sits on his hands, shuts himself up so he can think.

“The Dark Side has clouded their vision. Hundreds of senators are now under the influence of a Sith lord called Darth Sidious,” Dooku’s voice grates through his memory. Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to tell him just where he could store his lightsaber for safekeeping so his erstwhile grandmaster had taunted him with the truth, in hindsight.

Anakin.

The signs rush out of his hands, too fast for Cody at first. He repeats himself, trusts that Cody, brilliant, brilliantly fast Cody, will get it.

The helmet is back on Cody’s head, lights flickering on, antennas adjusting their angle.

“General Windu, this is Commander Cody using emergency frequency 2-Esk-5-0. Immediate contact with General Bilaba required. Immediate removal from battle of General Skywalker required. Use of force strongly encouraged should he resist.”

Obi-Wan crosses the small distance, waving his hands before using the quick battle sign for “deliver message”.

“General, Master Shadow Kenobi has a message,” Cody says, doesn’t pause as he translates to voice even though his back goes ramrod straight. “Chancellor is the Sith. I have proof. Ani must be kept away from him.”

“Some call them traitors,” Cody whispers, “but I’d rather turn a blind eye and let them run than watch them step into blaster fire because they don’t want to fight with every fiber of their being.”

“You’re a good man,” Obi-Wan signs, hands held up a bit so Cody can see. He hadn’t wanted to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes for the confession, had chosen to press him close under his chin instead. “You’re a good man,” Obi-Wan taps out on Cody’s chest so he can feel his words, too.

#loud au #codywan #obi wan kenobi #jedi shadow!obi wan #mute!obi wan #commander cody #star wars #sw tcw #my art #frostbitebakery art

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luveline · 2 months ago

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𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

five | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you.

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

James can tell you're nervous, though you hide it exceptionally well. Years of training and years before that of being the best friend to two natural born fibbers has given him a professional understanding of the ways people will pretend.

There's no need to pretend. It's your father's funeral.

James sits behind you on the pews. There are guards posted at all four entrances and exits to the church, but the level of security doesn't relax you, because it isn't why you're tensed.

He has to bite his tongue to stop from speaking. Has to cling to his own hands rather than lean forward and inquire if you're alright. He's lucky he'd been allowed to sit as close to the front of the room as he had been, and that was only after a convincing speech to the Queen herself on the dangers your first public outing may entail. He hadn't been exaggerating.

James hadn't been as succinct as he could've been, either, but no one else needs to know.

He looks around the front of the church rather than the back of your head and your tight shoulders. The room has all the furnishings one would expect of a royal funeral, garish white tapings and mammoth crystal chandeliers with their metal fixtures waxed to a burning shine. Light floods in multicolour from gargantuan stained glass windows, reds and greens and buttery orange-yellow kissing the floor, the walls, and the brown lacquered casket at the front of the room.

The proceedings had been in Genovian. James understood the majority, and he's sure Remus caught the rest. Your shoulder had started shaking somewhere between psalms, which means your arm had been shaking, and that's likely from a jigging anxious knee. You're unsettled.

James is unsurprised. There are huge cameras in several places across the room, and at times they'd been pointed at you, your cousin, your aunts and uncles, and, of course, the Queen.

Your identity has been officially broadcasted to the entire world —though thanks to now redundant members of the Royal staff, that had already been true to some extent. You are a princess in the gaze of billions, even if you do choose to give up the role as you're intending. This won’t be easy to leave behind.

Crown Princess or not, you're of royal blood, entitled to royal protection, and so. James can follow you anywhere you want to go for the foreseeable future as long as you allow him. You are just scared enough to say yes. (He hadn't exaggerated the state of things to you. No part of him wants to scare you. But he told you the truth, and he'd scared you anyhow.)

Sitting next to the Queen is the Queen mother (your great-grandmother), and beside her is your uncle, your aunt, the Princess Julianna, and then you. Julianna is clearly unhappy with your untrained decorum but won't risk talking lest she end up on the front page of the newspapers scolding her newly instated cousin.

"Might we all bow our heads for the final prayer."

You bow your head too quickly and too low. James winces and does the same. Hopefully they'll think you miseducated rather than stupid, though to many that's the same crime.

The prayer ends, and pallbearers step forward to carry the casket back out of the church to the hearse, a mixture of royals and paid actors strong enough to take the weight. The first row stands, James sticking out like a nettle among flowers, though his all black uniform isn't out of place for once.

He slots himself behind you in the procession as it begins to walk down the aisle. He can speak and get away with it due to both occupation and occasion, a melancholy orchestra plays as the King is carried home.

"Hello," he says, his face tilted near imperceptibly toward yours. "Everything okay?"

He wants to ask the same question, but better. How are you feeling? I'm sorry I can't give you an out yet.

"Okay," you say.

"You're doing so well," he says.

You relax slightly. You pass Sirius at the very back of the church, where he taps his chin, prompting you to lift your own. The photography outside of the church is respectful, but Sirius and James alike have already quizzed you on what expression to keep. You can't smile. You can't frown. You have to look heartbroken but not hysterical —being branded as an attention seeker so early would fry your reputation. The last thing you need is a smear campaign before the funeral is over. You have to look grateful to be here.

It is not an easy balance to strike.

James thinks you're doing wonderfully either way, and the point of the funeral is to respect your father now he's passed, but he'd also say it was a successful launch. You look sweet, and remarkably made up.

"Can we go home now?" you ask.

"We can. You don't have anything else on the docket."

"I don't have to go to, like, a wake?" you ask.

James shakes his head. "No. I think most of the family want to grieve in private after a spectacle like this."

"An event," Sirius corrects.

"Are you hungry?" James asks.

"Why, does Genovia have McDonald's?"

It's a credit to both James and Sirius that they manage to hide how funny they find you. "We do, but we can't take you to McDonald's. There'll be paparazzi following your car as soon as we leave the lot."

"I don't want McDonald's," you say.

"We know. I'm just asking so I can call ahead," James says.

"It's my job, really," Sirius says.

It's neither. You should've had a lady in waiting by now, a professional one to handle every aspect of your day by day, but the sudden nature of your arrival and now incoming date of your departure has left you without one. Sirius and James (and Remus, at times) have been happy to pick up the slack.

"Is it bad that I am hungry?" you ask.

James guides you away from the procession as the hearse pulls away, eager to get you in your own car sandwiched between a crowd of bodyguards. His men fall in without prompting, surrounding you on all sides. You visibly wither at the precaution.

"It's not bad. Grieving is hungry work," Sirius says.

James can't keep up with your conversation. There's suspicious movement at the barricade, the gathered supporters strangely rowdy for the occasion. He gestures with two fingers for the guards at his side to pull in tighter. Unsatisfied, he clears his throat and says, "Fall in, guys."

He doesn't need to say what he's worried about. The guards under his employ and under any branch of Palace security should have enough sense to feel the difference in the atmosphere.

"There's the Princess!" someone shouts. Hundreds of eyes find you.

"I don't wave, do I?" you ask, turning to look at James. You realise the guards have tightened ranks, a frown twisting your pretty smile down. "What's happening?"

He hates the sudden fear in your voice.

"Nothing," he says, hand hovering behind the small of your back, eyes at the crowd. There's a man standing too still to be natural. "Don't worry. What are you having for dinner?"

"That was an awful lie, you didn't even try," you complain, following his line of sight as best as you can to the crowd.

"Seriously, Princess, what are we having for dinner?" Sirius asks.

"Am I in danger?" you ask.

"No," James says firmly.

"They're protecting me," Sirius says, which would be more believable if he didn't have to shout it over someone's shoulder.

"You're not in any danger," James says, firmer still, a bite to his voice that makes Sirius wince. You stare. "You're still on camera, Princess." James is on camera. Your safety comes first, but his job is his job. Mary already berated him upon her return about his mishandling of the first airport disaster, and if James can't handle these situations, they'll find someone else to do it.

They manage to get you to your car without any incidents. James covers the roof and ushers you in, closing the door behind you. He takes the passenger seat, and your driver for the day, Munroe, starts the short journey back to Bellaverden House.

James stays sitting prim, the light of the police escorts fronting your procession gaussian blue on his hands.

"Are you okay?"

James is surprised that you're asking him, turning to meet your eyes from over his shoulder. "I'm perfectly fine. How are you, are you alright?"

You look a little seasick, hands either side of you in the empty seats. "I'm sorry if I made you mad."

It's an expression he's seen on Sirius a hundred times, uncertainty, the anxiety of not knowing if you're in trouble with someone. He does as he would with him. "I'm not mad, Princess. I have to… I have to be someone else when I'm working to make sure I perform the way I need to. I’m sorry if that feels personal, but I can assure you it's just work. Okay?" He starts professional, ends soft. "Now, are you alright?"

He keeps waiting for the reality of your situation to press upon you. Grief for a man you never knew, even anger at his inactive role in your life, but you stay quiet and cagey as a nervous cat.

"I'm fine, James."

"Are you?" James watches for it, finds the tremor in your hands that betrays you even if you don't think there's anything wrong.

"Fine," you say.

—

Two days later, you take a flight home. Private again, less than ten passengers, six of which are following you. You’d wanted to escape the royal duties and they’re practically tucked in your back pocket.

“Don’t look so scolded,” Sirius says, ineffectual as he gets comfortable beside you, a tray of biscuits in his lap.

“What?”

“James isn’t angry.”

You hide a small fluster with a swallow. “I know.”

“Well.” Sirius eats another biscuit. You honestly like him as much as you like James, though you’re starting to think he might end up being a pain in your side. He’s… opinionated. “You don’t look like you know. Can you eat something so everyone can stop worrying?”

“Sorry.”

You eat a chocolate biscuit, frown, eat a shortbread. Your stomach rumbles with a sickly lurch, but after a bit the sugar kicks in and you feel better. You peer around Sirius to spot James and Mickey pointing at different things on an iPad across the aisle. Just behind them, Remus sleeps, sitting next to Marlene. And, for reasons unbeknownst to you, Lily and Emmeline chatter in the seats just ahead.

You tried very hard to get out of being a princess, and yet you’ve been trailed back home anyways.

“You’re like Remus,” Sirius says, with surprising affection for both of you, “a bit of chocolate and the sulking stops.”

“They’re nice biscuits.”

“They’re Genovian, obviously they’re nice biscuits. You’re used to that English shite–”

“Come on,” you reprimand lightly, “have you ever had a Welsh shortbread? Get a grip.”

“I’ve had many Welsh shortbread. My Remus is very Welsh.” Sirius sinks down in his seat a little, seemingly sated by even a mention of Remus. The more you know them, the more you realise ‘my Remus’ is accurate. Sirius doesn’t even really say it with fondness or anything so saccharine, but just the addition of the word packs a punch. He’s said ‘my James’ before too, and that had been the same.

A little nibble of jealousy blossoms in your chest.

“Have you and Remus always been friends?” you ask.

Sirius tilts his head back. His nice chin points at you, his eyes lazily opened but friendly all the same. “Yes. Despite his wishes, some of the time. I was friends with James first, the day we met, but Remus shared a room so he couldn’t escape us. He was friendlier with… we had another roommate. So for a while we were natural pairs, but eventually we became a right group of messers.”

“I find it a bit difficult to make friends.”

“Me too.” He closes his eyes for a second. “If I hadn’t been forced to see them every day, I wonder if I would’ve managed it.”

You’re late for boarding school, but seeing people each day might be manageable. After all, you’ve a trapped posse of advisors with you at this very moment, destined to trail after you for what could be months.

You hope that, when they inevitably return home, they might still want to be friends.

The plane begins descending half an hour from the airport. Sirius squeezes the arm but doesn’t fuss. Then, suddenly, the landing gear is out, the seatbelt lights are on, and Sirius is encouraging you to ram the last of the biscuits in with him so he can bin the plastic tray they came in. “Go on,” he whispers, forcing the last, huge slag of caramel and chocolate in your direction, “before Marlene can see we’ve ruined dinner.”

“She’s not actually going to cook for me, is she?” you ask, frowning.

“Of course she is.”

Of course she is. You cringe through the landing, but can’t stop yourself from smiling when James makes his way to your chairs to get your bag from the overhead. You know it’s lame, but it’s just like having a boyfriend.

“Remus, will you get mine too?” you hear Sirius ask as he slinks around James’ body.

“Get your own.”

“Nice flight?” you ask James.

He smiles. “Awesome. You look better off than the last time.”

Last time you’d been exhausted, with red-rimmed eyes and a shiner. This is decidedly better, but you’re thrice as tired emotionally.

“I can’t wait to go home.”

James puts a hand behind your shoulder like he’s known you for years. “I bet you can’t,” he says.

“Will you be, uh, sleeping on my sofa again?”

He laughs and encourages you down the plane’s aisle. “Not this time, Princess. The proper arrangements have been made. I’ll miss your floral pillowcases, rest assured.”

“I’ll miss getting decked by my door.”

James’ gaze snaps to yours in shock. He pauses with his mouth just slightly open, and then a laugh jumps from him, a sunny, warm, crackly chuckle that heats your cheeks. “Yes!” he praises, giving you a poke. “I knew we’d make a comedian of you. And a dark one.”

The sheer look of joy on his face buoys you as you journey home. It was out of character, sure, but worth it to have made him laugh. You find you like the feeling of it, the pleasure, even the satisfaction of making him laugh. You’ll have to do it again.

You seem to have avoided any leaks of gossip or press, ushered by a small, tight group of security through the airport and to a jet black freelander.

James opens the back door for you. “No SUV?” you ask, climbing in.

“They’re not exactly common here, are they? This is less eye-catching.”

“Less impressive,” Sirius says, nudging you across to climb in after you.

You find yourself shuttered to the opposite side of the car as Remus gets in behind him. “Idiots,” James mutters.

“I thought we should’ve had a G-wagon,” Sirius says.

“That’s ridiculous,” Remus says.

“Or something stylish, then. A Benz.”

“This is nicer than the bus,” you say.

Sirius wrinkles his nose. “Too right.”

“So, where are we going?” you ask. You can’t work out why they’ve gotten into the same car.

“I thought we’d stay with you for a bit,” Sirius says easily.

“Why?”

You flush as you realise what you’ve said, and how bluntly it came out.

Sirius doesn’t flinch. “I was thinking you might want company. No?”

“You don’t have to–”

“No, we don’t,” Remus says, resting his weight on Sirius’ arm, “but we want to if you’re alright with it.”

You settle in your seat for the drive home, a small smile playing on your lips. It would be nice to have friends right now.

—

It turns out that time spent with the boys can get out of hand. Even James, oh so serious, begins to play into their shenanigans. Being together relaxes them, evident in their huge dopey smiles and the tactile way they go about the evening.

James was supposed to leave sometime after eight when Mickey arrived to relieve him, but he’d hunkered down with Remus on the sofa, stealing sips of his tea and attempting to push his socked feet under Remus’ thighs. “No,” he says now, giving Remus a prod, “you knocked the Genovian pear juggler clear off of his feet! And you blamed Sirius!”

“And I took the blame like a proper man,” Sirius says, tipping his head back to lay on Remus’ knees. “You’re welcome.”

“You owed me.”

A vague tenseness lines James’ shoulders, but Sirius only says, “Yes, I did.”

“He had to wash dishes for a month,” Remus says.

“I accepted my punishment. Besides, it gave me plenty of opportunity to pilfer the kitchens. We ate enough chocolate to make ourselves sick of it in a week.”

You curl up tighter in the armchair. The TV is playing quietly, an old movie flickering in muted colours, dabs of it caught on James’ arm.

He pushes his glasses further up his nose. You like them, the glasses, though he says they aren’t practical. They look good on him, bringing an extra darkness to his eyes, already a nice honey brown. All these brown eyed boys in one place isn’t good for you.

Marlene had, to your horror, come around to make you and your guests a late supper. You’d asked her how the royal kitchens would run without her and she’d asked you not to insult her workers. She’s bullied you into three plates worth and promised to be back tomorrow morning.

You’d said oh, no, please don’t, and James had reminded you that you’re going to be a princess for the rest of your life. Get used to extravagance.

And company! Sirius called.

He hasn’t moved since he got here, not even for dinner, though it’s not like you all would’ve fit around your teeny kitchen table anyhow. He picks at a plate of buttered bread and Genovian grapes, which Marlene had apparently gotten for him on special request. He has a planner in front of him, a heavy looking silver pen between lithe fingers scribbling across the pages, scratching things out, drawing big arrows as he moves dates around.

“You’re busy,” you say sympathetically.

Sirius snorts. “This is your planner, babe.”

“My what?”

“I’m trying to fit driving lessons around your classes. They’re quite random, aren’t they?” He lifts his gaze to meet your confusion. “James wants you to learn.”

“Well, I haven’t asked her yet, mate,” James says.

Sirius shrugs. “If I’m going to work it out, I need to do it now before bed.”

“What about my shifts?” you ask.

Sirius tilts his head ever so slightly to one side. “You still want to work?”

You remember the shock of the inheritance all over again. Weird to think a lump sum will have cleared in your bank account before you got home, the accruement of years spent unaware of your heritage. It will be strange to quit The Morgan —you know so many of the regulars, and you’ve spent the last two years living off of that paycheck— but the idea is a sudden warm blanket.

“I can quit?” you ask.

“Sure,” Sirius says. “If you want. You don’t have to worry about it anymore. That’s not to say you can’t work, but I can’t imagine you’ll spend what you have soon…”

You smile to yourself, guilty and so, so relieved. “You wouldn’t believe how horrible my manager is. I don’t want to be spoiled–”

All three boys roll their eyes. It’s unnerving. “It’s not spoiled,” Remus says.

“It makes my life easier,” James says. “Besides, the Royal Family might demand it.”

“Mm, it’ll look bad if the heir keeps her pub job,” Sirius says. He scratches out a last corner of the page. “Alright, darling, listen up. You can fit in two hours of driving a day, three times a week, is that gonna be something you can do? In about two months you should have your forty five hours of practice. We can study theory twice a week. If it’s too intense we can slow down, there’s no rush, really, just James–”

“Doesn’t like the bus,” you say.

“Hates public transport,” Sirius agrees.

“It’s good for the environment,” James speaks up, leaning further and further toward the arm, sinking into your battered throw cushions, “bad for princesses.”

That awful p-word.

“Alright. That sounds perfect, Sirius. Thank you for working it all out.”

“You’re very welcome. You might not like me so much when you see how many hours I’ve given Remus.”

You put your hands between your legs. “Oh, do I still have to do all that? Even if I’m not going to...”

“Become the crown princess of Genovia and rule the country?” Remus asks. “Yes, you still have to do all that. If only the basics.”

“But why?”

“‘Cos I said so,” Remus quips, leaning forward as Sirius leans back, a scarred hand falling naturally against his sharp shoulder.

“Ooh, you’re in trouble now, Princess,” James says. “An angry Remus is formidable.”

“I’m not angry.” Remus reaches over Sirius for a grape, his nose brushing black hair.

Sirius softens from the brush of touch alone. It is an intense thing to see, not private but intimate nonetheless. They must be seeing, you decide, curling tighter again in the armchair and craving another box of biscuits. For the first time since the funeral, you aren’t feeling off centre. You just feel like you, home again, an itch to sketch in your hands battered down by fatigue. It’s been such a long day, yet you stay your leave.

“Scratch my hair?” Sirius asks.

Remus hums. “No, thank you.”

“Oh, please, Remus. Just scratch it, don’t be selfish.”

“He’s a sponge for it,” James tells you. “Couldn’t be touched when we met him, mind, but now he won’t leave you alone once you’ve said yes. If he asks you to draw shapes on his arm, save yourself and say no.”

You wouldn’t mind, you don’t think. Sirius sees it on your face and grins.

James decides to appease Sirius while Remus refuses and ushers him his way. He runs a big hand through Sirius' hair, fingers combing to the ends, and then he goes up the back of his neck, where he begins to scratch long circles. “That’s better,” Sirius says, falling back against James’ leg. “I always thought I should be a prince, you know. I like the royal treatment.”

“Didn’t get much royal treatment as a lord, did you?” Remus asks.

“You’re a lord?” you ask.

“I could’ve been. I was the heir,” Sirius says, tone taking on a dripping disdainfulness that seems tired of real emotion.

“Lord of the most Noble House of Black,” James says. “Only he ditched them. Quite dramatically.”

“Thank goodness,” Remus says.

Sirius looks at you again. Both exhausted and unaffected, like the deepest pain has passed. You can see the weariness of someone who’s spent days at a long dinner table, though now he sits slouched and cared for against your ratty sofa, and it suits him more. “My family is traditional, and I’m less so. I could never have lived the life I was supposed to. It probably would have killed me. So I left, and I was lucky enough to be taken care of by another oh so noble family.”

“The Potter’s aren’t noble,” James says quickly. “I’m not a lord or heir or anything.”

“Well, you are heir of the Potter name and riches and all,” Remus says, taking Sirius’ plate of snacks into his lap. He folds a thick piece of the bread and butter and offers it to Sirius before eating the last one.

“Yes…” James gives Remus a pointed look, which Remus ignores. “But it’s not like the Black family. You might actually meet them, one day.”

“Pray not,” Sirius says to himself.

“Hmm. The Potter’s are an older family too, but not like the Black’s. The Black’s have deep Genovian roots, my family are–” James’ cheeks take colour. “Rich, yes. Very rich.”

“But you work,” you say.

“I think I’d go mad if I couldn’t.” He must spot the look of guilt you fail to thwart. “But it’s different. To grow up completely looked after, I’ve never had to do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“That’s not what I’ve been led to believe,” Remus cuts in, laughing, meeting James’ eyes, “all that homework you needed my help with, you did that willingly?”

You laugh at James’ faked annoyance and their matching chuckles. Time that night seems to slip away, and it’s well past midnight when you fall asleep, still curled in your chair.

In the morning, you wake up in bed.

You pull a pillow over your face, cold underside to your boiling skin. How did I get here? you ask yourself, terrified of the answer.

—

Honestly, your flat isn’t the nicest. It’s clean as you can manage, but there’s damp in the bathroom and it’s rather squashed. James finds himself squinting in disgust at the door at the front of the building which still doesn’t open properly (and so can be jimmied) despite his annoyed email to the landlord where he’d cited a few chosen laws and threatened to withhold the rent, though he supposes it had no weight because James isn’t the one paying it. Still, he can’t deal with this. He has to convince you to move. A gated community might be a shout; he’d worry less if you lived among the rich and their security cameras.

But he doesn’t suppose the best course of action here is to displace you again. You like your flat, he thinks, hadn’t you told him before that you liked the quiet? Or was it the noise? It’s not like London has a reputation for peace. He’s still not sure how you ended up living in central London: he commits to ask.

James isn’t going to give up on you. He wants you to be princess, The Princess, he wants you to take your place as Queen of Genovia one day. Not because you’re the only one who can stop fucking Baron Riddle from ruling Genovia as a tyrant bastard, but because it’s your birthright. You run from something that could be so special to stay here, alone and lonely. He knows it’s harsh to think of it that way, and yet he does. And, selfishly, he wants to stay with his friends. He wants to be your friend. If the Riddle family control Genovia he can say goodbye to his job, and he can say goodbye to the life he’s made. He could make another one, of course, but he has a feeling about you.

He takes the stairs past the huge discarded mattress and a floor covered in mail to your flat. The door is propped open which he hates, but Mikkelson is inside, sitting at the kitchen table with you, drinking a polite cup of tea. Sirius leans up against a counter with his own.

“Good morning,” James says.

You’re wearing jogging bottoms, socks, and a t-shirt with a charcoal smudge on the neck. It has short, short sleeves, showcasing the lengths of your arms. James is only a boy, following the curve of one down to your hand.

You glance at your arm, then him. “Good morning?”

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks to save himself.

“It’s warm out?” you say, peering around Mickey to check the sunshine coming from the window. “It’s warm in here, at least.”

“Mickey, are you ready?” James asks.

Mickey thanks you for the tea and leaves, tired in the eyes. James slaps him on the shoulder as he goes.

Sirius stretches backwards. When he rises up, he fixes James with a cool look. “Jamie, I’ve just heard from our royal sweetness that you’ve been calling me her stylist.”

You flinch. “Uh–”

“Well,” James says, grinning as he settles against the doorframe, “it is how Lily introduced you.“

“Ah, yes, Lily Evans. Longtime frenemy. I expected it from her. I didn’t realise you were driving the narrative home in my absence.”

“Sirius, you do style her, you realise.”

“I’m a media coach!” Sirius sniffs. “And a gentleman in waiting, for the time being.”

“You’re more than a coach,” James says.

“Yes, well. I’m not a stylist. At least, that’s not my first priority. I’m miffed with you now, so steer clear of me.” Sirius says, ferrying back to the living room.

James hears the clunk of his modest briefcase being opened. You start to apologise, but he shakes his head with a grin. “Please ignore him, he’s kidding.” He traces the side of your face in the light. “Your bruise is almost gone.”

Your fingers flit to your cheek and the well of your eye. “Yeah. Yeah, it's only sore now.”

“Little yellow in the crease.” Hard to see if you’re not really looking.

“It feels like it was a really long time ago,” you say, standing from your chair with a wobble.

“You alright?” he asks.

You make for the kettle, flicking it on. “Fine. Tea, coffee?”

“Sure, I’ll have some tea. What’s Sirius doing up so early?”

“He didn’t say yet.”

You take a mug from the cupboard printed in autumn leaves. James hears a rough sound and turns to the living room on instinct, hard pressed to hold in a laugh as he watches Sirius right your knocked coffee table. James had taken Remus back to the accommodation last night while Sirius insisted he’d stay. It’s not nice to be alone, he’d said simply. When James turns back to the kitchen, you’ve placed a tea bag and a teaspoon in the mug, jug of milk waiting, jar of brown sugar cracked. “It’s gone solid,” you warn, “there’s nothing wrong with it though, I promise.”

“I only have a little. Here, I can do it. Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, we had toast. Did you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he says.

James has said goodbye to professionalism. Not safety, not doing his job, but if what you need to be the crown princess is a friend, James will be your friend. He can do that easily. It feels a little odd after fighting it for the time you spent in Genovia, but he’s done with pretending you’re not cutesy.

“What are you going to do today?” he asks, coming up behind you, close enough to see the dark pupil of your eye and the white of the kitchen light against it.

“Um, well, Sirius is going to help me tender my resignation at the bar, and then I guess I have a driving lesson? I should probably try to catch up on my assignments, or. I don’t know, maybe I’ll drop out.” Your eyes widen slightly. “Not because I want to do nothing. I just– I can– can try again. A fresh start at a proper university.”

James holds the top of your arm. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to decide anything today. I’m sure you can take a sabbatical for your current term, Sirius can help you sort that out, just until you decide. Or you could drop out tonight and think about it all later. You have time. I didn’t think for a second it was because you want to do nothing, and even if I did, that’s not bad either.” His thumb crests a small circle, pushing up the line of your sleeve.

Your lips part for a moment before you answer, as though practising. “Thank you, James.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“I bet you don’t think so.”

James pats your shoulder gently, then reaches for the kettle as it flicks off, boiled. “Can I suggest an addendum to your calendar?”

“Sure.”

“I was thinking you could try another counselling session.”

You blink, stopped with a tea bag in hand. “Why?”

“The first one went well, didn’t it?”

“But I’m home now.”

“That doesn’t erase the last week.” Nearly two now, since you found out.

You push your mug toward his and he fills it with hot water. He follows suit and adds his own milk, stirring it together quickly. His spoon on the sides is a biting clink, clink, clink.

“Things have felt a bit staccato, haven’t they?” he asks.

You nod, toying with the handle of your mug.

“It would be nice for you to have something constant. Some stability. And we can arrange for you to have private care here, you know.”

“I have stability,” you argue unsurely. “You and Remus and Sirius, and Frank, too. Is he coming back?”

“Frank’s having some time off with his partner, but he’ll be here soon.” He laughs, pushing the body of his teabag against the side of his mug, the brown of the tea seeping into the milk in a wave. “I don’t think you can get rid of me, however hard you wanna try.”

“I wasn’t trying to get rid of you.”

James looks up. He catches your eye. Again, the dark of your pupil shines and shakes, not sure where to look, but your lip stays in a firm line like you’ve been chastened. He remembers flicking you under the chin the last time you’d looked at him like that. He could do it again, but he fears Sirius’ judgement. “I know,” he says, voice soft with his low volume. “I’m teasing.”

“Would you not?” you ask.

“So spritely today! Alright, is your tea done? Let’s go sit in the living room and make a list.”

“A list?”

“Of things you want to do,” he says, scooping the tea bag from his mug.

“I don’t know what I want to do.” You take his spoon to remove your tea bag.

You chuck it in the sink, pulling your mug to your chest. You don’t sound happy about making the list, but you follow him obligingly to the living room where Sirius is brushing his hair from his face, a list of his own coming to life on his knee.

“Not more duties for me?” you ask tentatively.

Sirius makes grabbing hands for James’ mug. James, with a sigh, lets him have it. Sirius takes a glutinous sip and doesn’t offer it back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t clear up your job status when talking to the Princess, Pads. Can we ever be friends again?” James says in defeat.

“I’ll think about it,” Sirius says, not bothering to meet James’ eyes. “And to answer your question, your sweetness, it’s not for you, don’t worry. I’m trying to make sure Remus’ medical information is being properly swapped over. It’s…” Sirius takes another sip of tea and then thankfully passes it back. “A headache. Doctors.”

“Does Remus know you’re doing that?” James asks, sitting on the empty sofa. You take the seat beside him.

“Not yet. It’s not– not like it’s not part of my job. He works for the princess, I work for the princess, I might as well make sure he’s tip top shape to do that.” Sirius gets that look James recognises for not wanting to talk about the thing he’s talking about anymore, his eyes lighting up predictably. “What’s on your agenda today?”

“I suppose we’ll be taking the Princess to the shops at some point. You needed some bits?” he asks.

You noticeably fluster but don’t answer.

“And then after that I’ll be taking her for her first driving lesson.”

Your jaw drops. “Wait, you're teaching me?”

“Well, just to begin with,” James says. He squints at you. “I’m a good driver, I’ll have you know.”

Sirius rolls his eyes.

“I am! And besides, who do I trust more than me? And you trust me, don’t you?” he asks you.

You cross your arm over your chest. “Yeah, ‘course.”

James’ grin is evident in his tone. “Good. Because after that we’ll be endeavouring into the land of self-defence.”

“What?”

“With a safety mat, don’t worry.”

You nibble your bottom lip. “Well, I wasn’t until you said that.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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redrose10 · 3 months ago

Note

Can you do an enemies to lovers with #18 Let’s play a game… with Yoongi please. 🙏😊

This is kind of like a lovers to enemies to lovers thing. I hope that’s okay! It’s also longer than I intended…

< Sprinkles >

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of cheating, tiny hint of homophobia, Divorce, Smut (oral, unprotected sex, breast play…)

Enemies to lovers

#18 “Let’s play a game…First one to make a noise looses.”

*******************************************************

Yoongi: I swear Y/N if she’s not ready when I get there…

You: Omg Yoongi it was one time and she had an accident right before you got here. Let it go already…

You sighed as you tossed your phone aside. He was on his way to pick up your daughter for the week and apparently was set on never letting you forget the one time he got stuck in rush hour traffic on his way home because your daughter wasn’t ready as soon as he got there.

Things hadnt always been this bad between the two of you. At one point you were a loving happy couple and that only increased when your daughter, Hana, was born. Yoongi was the most the incredible husband and father and you couldn’t imagine your life any other way.

But a few months after she was born things started to fall apart.

Hana suffered from acid reflux so she was up most of the night crying. You and Yoongi took turns tending to her but by the time you would finally fall back asleep she’d wake up again and it was your turn to get up. Yoongi was working overtime trying to support all of you so that you could stay at home with the baby as long as possible so 99% of the household responsibilities also fell on your shoulders. You had reached a level of exhaustion you didn’t know was possible which led to the two of you not having much alone time together and any time you did spend in each other presence usually involved an argument of some sort.

They started as common arguments between couples like housework, bills, and making time for each other.

But over time the arguments turned into petty little things…Yoongi blinked too much, you used too many periods when texting, he didn’t like the way you said the word rainbow, he wore his green sweater too much.

The final straw was the argument on this birthday. You had put together a surprise party which he never showed up for. Instead he texted you that his boss wanted to take him out to dinner and he was really working hard towards a promotion so he didn’t want to say no. He promised to spend the entire weekend with you and Hana to make up for it.

You were beyond upset, but you understood he was just trying to better your lives so you did your best to cool down. It wasn’t until later that evening after everyone had left and Hana was asleep that you finally broke. Yoongi’s boss, Mr. Kim who you were friends with on social media, had posted a photo congratulating Yoongi on his new promotion. At first you were ecstatic. He had worked so hard for this and maybe now he could remove some of the stress and have more time at home. But then you saw it…or her.

Park Duri. She was technically Mr. Kim’s assistant but for some reason was always involved in Yoongi’s schedule. He talked about her a lot. You’d met her a few times and she seemed nice but you always got an uncomfortable feeling whenever you were around her and Yoongi together.

It infuriated you but mostly just hurt you that she spent your husbands birthday with him and also witnessed him get his promotion all while you sat at home eating cold left overs alone.

What brought you to tears though was seeing his arm wrapped so tightly around her shoulders while she leaned into him. He had the biggest gummy smile. He looked so happy. A happy you hadn’t seen in him since the day Hana was born. He certainly never looked that happy around you any more.

That night he stumbled into the bedroom after having one too many drinks in celebration, passing out on the bed without saying a word to you. That night you made up your mind. The next morning you called a lawyer and filed for divorce.

Things were bitter between the two of you ever since. The only positive was Yoongi was still a very present and loving father which is all you could ask of him. You just wished the two of you could be in a room together for more than a few minutes without blowing up at each other.

“She ready?”, he questioned as soon as you opened the door.

“Well hello to you too.”

“Hello my dearest soon to be ex wife. How are things down in hell where you come from?”, he spat clenching his jaw.

“You know what Yoongi why don’t you go fuc-“You had to stop your comment as you heard your daughter come running to the entrance way.

“Daddy!”, she shouted as she jumped into his arms.

“I missed you so much Hana Banana.”, he said giving her cheek a kiss.

“Tell your mother goodbye.”, he mumbled already half way down the hallway. You gave your daughter a hug and told her to behave before handing her the pink overnight bag she had and watched as she skipped down the hall with her hand tightly gripped onto Yoongi’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were nervous like extremely very incredibly nervous. You and Yoongi had to meet with your lawyers today to try and hammer out the last few details of your divorce. If you could get this done then you just had to go back in a week to sign everything and the divorce would be final.

“No absolutely not.”, Yoongi said making your eyes roll.

“Why not Yoongi? You get custody of Hana 50% of the time. I’m not asking for any money other than requesting we split all bills for Hana 50/50. I already have my own apartment and so do you. We have separate cars and separate bank accounts. What else could you possibly want?”, you shouted getting very irritated. Every single time you guys had tried to come to a conclusion in the divorce Yoongi found a way to drag it on just to spite you.

“I want something in here about us not letting Hana meet our future partners without the other parent meeting them first.”, he said pointing at the contract.

“What!! Absolutely not? You’re not MY father and have no say in who I date.”

“No but I am Hana’s father and I deserve to know about the men that you’re bringing around her. I shouldn’t have to find out from our five year old how you’ve been bringing some guy named Jimin, who’s apparently very handsome, around the apartment. I mean come on Y/N…we’re not even officially divorced. I never took you for that type.”

“And what.type.is.that?”, you hissed.

“The type to go around fucking other men before they are even officially divorced from their husbands.”

“EXCUSE me!! First off Jimin is Hana’s ballet teacher who’s been coming over to give her private lessons. She has a little crush on him. Maybe you’d know that if you actually talked to her and asked her questions about her life. Secondly, you have a lot of nerve accusing me like that. If I was sleeping with Jimin, which I’m not, at least I waited until we were separated.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”, he asked hurt and offended because he already knew what you were getting at.

“Oh cut the bullshit Yoongi. I know you were cheating on me with Duri and who knows who else. That’s why you always came home late smelling like another women’s perfume. That’s why we stopped being intimate. That’s why you stopped telling me you loved me. Isn’t it Yoongi?“

You were so angry by this point you couldnt see straight but it felt good to get that off your chest until you could feel tears forming. You hated crying in front of others, especially Yoongi.

Your lawyer Jin cleared his throat before giving wide eyes to Yoongi’s lawyer Namjoon. “Umm maybe we should continue this next week.”, Namjoon whispered somewhat afraid to get in between you two.

“Yes good idea.”, Jin said packing up his brief case. You stood up as well slinging your purse over your shoulder.

“Y/N wait”, Yoongi said but you stopped him, “No go fuck yourself Yoongi. I’m done.”

“Right back at you.”, he scoffed as you slammed the door behind you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tae, he knows he’s supposed to run it by me first if someone else is going to be picking up Hana other than him.”, you said feeling bad for the irritation in your voice. It wasn’t Taehyung’s fault at all. He put his hands up in defense, “I know I know. He said it was urgent and he would explain it to you later.”

You wanted to say no but Hana had already seen him at the door and was currently dancing around the house shouting party at Uncle Taes’s and you did trust him completely so you gave in and let him take her with a mental note to scold Yoongi later.

While you missed Hana dearly during these times you did appreciate having some alone time so you were sat on the couch in your comfy pjs with a glass of your favorite wine as you got caught up on a drama you had been sucked into.

The doorbell rang forcing you to get up and answer it and you really wished you hadn’t.

“Yoongi? Hana is with Tae.”, you said feeling a slight increase in panic.

He nodded, “I know.”

“Oh my god are they okay? Did something happen?”

He chuckled, “They’re fine.” He even showed you a photo he received of Hana giving Taehyung a full beauty makeover. You felt relief at seeing her okay and happy.

“Okay then why are you here?”, you questioned.

He held up a bag from your favorite bakery a few streets away, “I want to talk. No lawyers…no shouting…no arguing. We just need to talk like civil adults.”

You shook your head, “I don’t know Yoongi. That sounds like a bad idea. At least the lawyers could call the police when we kill each other.”

He chuckled at that, “Please Y/N.” For the first time in a long time you saw something in his eyes other than anger so you agreed and let him in.

After a few cookies and a few episodes of your drama you turned to him, “Alright, what do you want to talk about?”

“Well…first I want to apologize for what I said during the meeting with the lawyers the other day. I guess I was just kind of hurt and maybe a little jealous because I thought you had already moved on with someone else. But after thinking about it…I have no place to feel like that so you can do whatever you want with whoever you want. I just think we should agree to not introduce anyone to Hana for a while.”

“I agree…but I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. But if you…if you want to then I don’t care.”, you quickly added though he shook his head, “I’m good. I want to focus on work and Hana for a while.”

You nodded in agreement.

“I uh I also want you to know that I never cheated on you. I swear on Hana. I’ve never even thought about it.”, he said while pulling on his earlobe, a nervous habit of his.

“You came home smelling like perfume, many times Yoongi.”

“I know…I know but there’s an explanation for that which isn’t me cheating.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh I can’t wait to hear this one.” You could tell he wanted to say something back but bit his tongue making you feel a little guilty.

“Y/N, do you remember on our first anniversary I gave you those flowers.”, you nodded, “Well I didn’t pay for them…actually I never paid for any of them.”

“You thief! Seriously Yoongi you were risking going to prison over flowers?”

“Will you shut up and give me the chance to explain?”, he barked. You huffed but leaned back into the couch.

“I had severely under estimated how expensive flowers had become. Thanks to all of our bills and our furnace breaking the week before I couldn’t afford to buy them. I started crying in the shop because I felt like the worst husband ever. The elderly woman who owned the place asked what was wrong and after some convincing I told her. She told me how her husband used to bring her flowers every week and it gave her something to look forward to no matter how tough of a time they were going through. So she gave me a small bouquet to give to you. I reminded her that I couldn’t pay but she said she only wanted a hug. So the next week after I got paid at work I went back to get you more flowers and pay her back for the first bunch but she wouldn’t accept my payment. She only wanted a hug. She did that every time that I went in there and that’s why I came home smelling like perfume. I never cheated with her…I mean… she did grab my butt once but I wouldn’t really count that.”

You chuckled at the mental picture before remembering, “And Duri?”

“Duri wouldn’t have wanted me even if I did want to cheat on you with her. She was a…she was not into men so you would’ve had a better chance than I did. She just liked me because I was one of the few people in the office that didn’t judge her.” This new information caused you to feel so many different emotions some good some bad.

“Y/N I never cheated on you. I’m sorry that I made you doubt that.“

“Okay yeah thanks for clearing that up. I’m uh I’m sorry for not asking sooner.”

“I’m also sorry that I stopped initiating anything intimate. It wasn’t you at all. I was just always so tired and stressed and then if I did want to do something you just seemed so angry and distant with me or Hana was acting up and I didn’t want to push you into any thing. But most of all I’m sorry that I stopped telling you how much I love you Y/N. There’s no excuse for that and I regret it more than anything.”

His words replayed in your mind over and over, “Yoongi did you mean you loved me?”

He shook his head, “I love you Y/N. I always have and I always will. That’s why I’ve been trying to drag on this divorce. I’ve been selfish because I didn’t want to let you go…but Monday…Monday we can call the lawyers and I’ll sign the papers. I won’t make you suffer any more.”

“I…I love you too Yoongi.,” you stiffled unsure of when you even started crying.

Quickly he pulled you into a hug, “Hey hey it’s okay. Don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

“What do we do Yoongi?”

“Well…we can continue with the divorce if you want or we can try again. Go slow. Maybe see a couples counselor. I think having this talk really helped us so I think talking to a professional would be a good thing. But it’s up to you. I want to save this…I want to save us but I won’t force you.”

“Yeah I think…I think we should try to work on things.”, you nodded. He smiled and you smiled both breathing a sigh of relief.

Then Yoongi fidgeted with his fingers as he looked around the room that had suddenly become more awkward., “Well uh I guess I should get going. I need to save Taehyung from his baby sitting duties.”

“Oooorrr maybe you could stick around a little longer. I think Taes having the time of his life.”, you chuckled before flipping your phone over show him the text of a photo of Tae on the couch and Hana cuddled up next to him as he gushed about how wonderful she is.

He smiled at the cute photo before agreeing to stay since he really didn’t want to leave anyways.

Maybe it was the bottle of wine that you two had during the movie or the months and months without being touched or just being exhausted physically and emotionally that was causing your brain to go haywire but suddenly you could sense every little movement from Yoongi.

The way his chest moved up and down as he took slow breaths. The way he sat kind of slouched with his legs spread out. The way his fingers kept inching closer and closer to the bare skin of your thighs. It all sent a fury of emotions through you as you could feel your arousal building, almost making you feel silly for being so weak for him.

But you two had barely agreed to work on things less than a few hours ago so you tried your best to ignore the desires within you.

You knew that Yoongi was having similar feelings as you when his fingers continued to move slowly up the side of your thigh until his large hand was firmly situated on the top of your leg, his fingers began gently toying with the bottom of your shorts as if he was testing the waters to see if you were going to stop him. When you didn’t, he got a little more brave slightly pulling on your bottoms but then he suddenly pulled back.

“Y/N…I…We can stop if you’re not into this. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that...It’s just been so long.”

“I know it has been. Maybe…Maybe I want this too.”

He scooted closer until you could feel his warm breath hitting your cheek.

“Y/N, maybe isn’t enough for me. I need a yes or a no.”, his voice deeper than usual.

You thought for a moment. You thought about the positives and negatives. He started to move away taking it as a no when you stopped him. Quickly you lifted yourself up and straddle his lap before kissing him, “Yes I want you. I want you Yoongi. I want you so bad.”

That was all he needed to send his lips searching for yours. His hands grasped the end of your shirt and began pulling it up, you shimmied to help make it easier for him.

In one swift movement you were left completely bare in front of him thanks to having forgone a bra earlier in your search for optimal comfort.

He sat staring at you making you flush red.

“Fuck I’ve missed these.”, he smiled squeezing your breasts. “Yoongi don’t make it weird.”, you chuckled yet doing absolutely nothing to stop him especially once his mouth connected to your left nipple and he began gently biting down, something he knew you loved.

The more you moaned the more it egged him on to bite and squeeze and suck and leave marks all over your naked breasts. You started to grind down on him using his growing erection to provide some friction to your wet core. The sensation making you both throw your heads back.

“Want to make you feel good.”, you mumbled against his neck leaving kisses as you went.

“You’re already making me feel good Sprinkles.”

On your first date you got really excited to find out the cafe had sugar cookies covered in sprinkles. Yoongi thought it was the cutest thing ever and had in turn started calling you Sprinkles.

Your heart jumped at the use of your nickname that you hadn’t heard him say in so very long.

It wasn’t until you felt his hips buck up into you that you were brought back to reality, “No I want to make you feel really good.”, you whispered already on your knees while your fingers quickly worked on his belt and zipper. As you finally freed him you were reminded about just how big he was.

You saw him smirk as you stared somewhat in shock, “What don’t think that pretty mouth of yours can take me any more?”

You didn’t say anything. You wanted to bite back but instead you dove in. Your tongue licking a strip on the underside. You went right into a rapid pace, sucking, licking, paying close attention to the head just like he liked.

You took pleasure in watching him come undone above you. His cheeks tinted red, his legs spread far apart giving you ample room, you gripped onto his thighs as his head rolled back on the couch. He ran his hands through his hair getting lost in the feeling and savoring the sensations of your mouth taking him fully.

Suddenly his hand came and fisted a chunk of your hair, “Y/N, Stop…you gotta sto-“

You couldn’t get your mouth off in time before he started convulsing and a warm salty liquid coated the back of your tongue.

While it definitely was a confidence booster to know you could have that kind of an effect on him it was still funny to you and you couldn’t stop giggling, especially when you saw how embarrassed he looked.

“Shut up. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything but my hand.”, he grumbled.

“No no it’s okay Yoongles.”, you giggled until your giggles turned into a scream as he lifted you up and carried you to the bedroom.

Once you were laid down on the bed he wasted no time in tearing off your shorts and removing his shirt leaving you both completely bare.

“Fuck look how wet you are.”, he sighed as he ran his fingers through your folds.

“Mmmm yes Yoongi.”, you moaned finally feeling a little relief until he abruptly stopped and pulled away.

You whined at the loss of contact earning a low chuckle from him.

“Please don’t tease. I need you so bad.”, you said as your hips began shifting looking for pleasure.

Yoongi being the way that he was decided to only tease you further. This time with the head of his already hardened again cock as he would barely give you the tip just to pull away leaving you needy and empty.

“Fine keep doing that…Maybe I’ll go ahead and call Jimin. I bet he wouldn’t tease me.”, you spat somewhat playfully somewhat loosing your mind.

Without warning Yoongi slammed into you fully sheathing himself. “Oh fuck Yoongi.”, you cried blissfully at the burning stretch.

“Yeah you like that. You think it’s nice to talk about other men while I’m fucking you.”, he growled, “I’ll make you forget he even exists. Fuck Y/N.” He was fucking into you with such a quick forceful pace that your whole body was being pushed up against the bed until you couldn’t go any more.

“Don’t stop. I’m about to cum. Please Yoongi.”, you cried.

“Yeah, then cum for me.”, he said, “let me feel you squeezing my cock like you want it.”

That was all it took until you were pulsing around him squeezing with everything you had as your body reveled in the feeling. A feeling you had long forgotten about.

Once you had come down from your high he wasted no time before he was pounding into you again trying to chase his own release.

“Whoa whoa.”, you said and he instantly pulled out looking at you with a worried expression, “What? Are you hurt?”

“You get to cum twice while I only got once? That doesn’t seem fair.”, you smirked while he looked at you slightly annoyed.

“I mean I think I deserve another one…or are you too out of the game to be able to make your girl cum more than once in a night.”, you playfully quipped.

Yoongi ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek in irritation, “You know you’ve become quite the mouthy one Sprinkles.“

He slowly stroked himself a few times knowing it was going to be difficult for him to hold off his already close orgasm.

“How about we make this a little interesting?”, he said lining himself up with your entrance.

“I’m listening.”, you said half moaning at the sensation.

“Let’s play a game…First one to make a noise looses.”, he said, “Loser has to cook dinner next Friday for date night.”

You head rolled back, “You’re on.”

“And I expect fresh baked brownies with my meal when I win.”, he arrogantly said as he slammed into you again.

He was watching himself disappear inside of you and reappear covered in your juices as a way to try and keep his focus when you decided to play dirty.

You squeezed your walls around his length as tight as you could trying to get a moan or a hiss but he was good. Instead he looked up giving you a look that said two can play that game.

He kept eye contact as he brought two fingers to your swollen clit rubbing figure eights to add extra pleasure as his mouth latched onto your right nipple. You bit down onto his shoulder to stifle the sounds your mouth was begging to make.

The two of you lasted at this for several minutes before you had a realization.

Yoongi was going slow, taking his time, gently thrusting in and out of you, which you knew meant he was close and trying to hold out as long as he could.

And then you decided to make the move that you knew would surely make him come undone and spill a litany of filth from his mouth.

You hooked a leg around him and with all the strength you had you pushed home and flipped over so that he was on his back and you were on top, his dick remaining inside you the whole time. You nearly laughed out loud when you saw the surprised look on his face but you managed to stifle it.

You started bouncing up and down on his cock with a rapid pace. Your were so close to your own orgasm. Your thighs were burning but you could feel his hands eagerly grabbing onto your body trying to stop it. He was so close too.

Carefully you leant forward just enough that you could suck little marks into his skin while still riding his dick. The angle allowing your tits to lightly brush up against his skin with your movements. You gave him a couple extra squeezes for good measure and next thing you knew his hands were on you holding you in place as his own hips bucked up into you, “F-Fuck Y/N. Fuck I’m coming... I’m coming. Baby fuck. I tried. I’m sorry.”

You could feel hot liquid already dripping out of you and making a mess on him as he helped you ride out your own high that quickly followed.

When your breathing had calmed he helped you off of him and quickly got you all cleaned up before laying down next to you on the bed.

“That was uh…I think we needed that.”, he said giving your hand a kiss.

“Yeah it felt good. I think that maybe we lost ourselves in being parents and forgot that we have needs too. Let’s…not do that again this time.” He nodded, “Speaking of which I should probably go relieve Taehyung. I told him I’d only be a few hours at most so he’s probably not happy.”

“Yeah probably. Hey make sure Hana eats something other than takeout this week please…and she has a dance less with Jimin on Wednesday so maybe be nice when you drop her off.”, you said following him to the door.

“Yes to the no takeout and we’ll see but no promises to the Jimin thing.”, he grumbled.

He put on his coat and shoes and gave you a kiss and was just about to walk out the door when you stopped him.

He turned to look and found you smiling hard.

“What?”, he asked confused.

“For dinner next Friday…I expect fresh baked sugar cookies with my meal.”, you giggled as his face fell remembering that he had in fact lost the game.

“Fine…sugar cookies it is…ooorrrr you know we could go best two out of three.”, he said already reaching out for you.

“And don’t skimp on the sprinkles.”, you shouted quickly shutting the door before you could give into his little game.

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