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earlgreytea68 · 2 years ago

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I posted 905 times in 2022

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I tagged 587 of my posts in 2022

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Longest Tag: 133 characters

#we were having a conversation about how the creature in frankenstein is described as so revolting that nobody can bear to look at him

My Top Posts in 2022:

I have never really understood what this saying means? What kind of woman is this? Like, if the devil is upset you're awake, is it because you're the kind of woman who's incredibly pious?? If they mean that you're a rebellious woman, wouldn't the devil be happy you're awake? Are we just meant to think that you're a woman who everyone says, "oh, she's such a deeply, profoundly good woman" about? In which case why have this thing about the devil to get that point across? I just feel like if someone said this was the kind of woman I was, I would have no idea how to take it. Is it a compliment or an insult lol

151 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

I Read Bruen So You Wouldn’t Have To

You might not know this about me, but in my spare time, I’m kind-of-sort-of a U.S. lawyer. I have a law degree, at least. So sometimes maybe you want to know how a lawyer would read some of these Supreme Court cases. So I read the recent Second Amendment gun control case called Bruen, so you wouldn’t have to. And trust me, you should be grateful for that, because the majority opinion is a 60-page slog through the esoterica of some random British law from, like, the British Civil War era???? And then some stuff that “the Western Territories” did??? Because this is apparently how we make “law” in this country now.

In theory, the case is about a law -- more than a hundred years old -- under which New York requires people to show a reason why they should be given a license to carry a weapon concealed in public. The question is whether New York is able to make such a law (even though, again, the law has been the books since 1911).

The majority opinion answers this question, as I said, by literally spending 60 pages telling me what Oliver Cromwell thought about gun control. You think maybe I’m exaggerating? I am not. I am very much not. You might not care very much about what Oliver Cromwell thought about gun control as a reason for guiding 21st-century U.S. legislation, and I wouldn’t blame you, so I’m not going to walk you through the 800 years of history that the majority opinion provides in great detail. (Seriously, it starts with the Magna Carta, and frankly I’m surprised we didn’t try to figure out how the very first humans handled “very big stick” and “very heavy stone” control.)

I say that in theory this case is about a New York law, because in actuality what this case is about is part of this term’s concerted effort to establish originalism as the only permissible way to interpret laws in this country. And what’s astonishing is...how absolutely terrible it is. How blatantly it shows that originalism is nothing more than a fancy word for “words mean whatever I say they mean.” Like, it doesn’t even try to hide that. The assertions that the case makes, flat-out, are pretty astonishing.

The holding of the case (meaning: the ultimate conclusion) is that courts must “assess whether modern firearms regulations are consistent with the Second Amendment’s text and historical understanding.” Uh-huh. We cannot regulate guns unless people in the eighteenth century would have been okay with the regulation. And how do we know what people in the eighteenth century were okay with? In theory, this question is supposed to be answered by looking at ~~history. I put that in sarcasm font, because...yeah. Even the majority opinion acknowledges that “historical analysis can sometimes be difficult and nuanced,” but, it insists, it’s “more legitimate” than any other way of deciding what laws the country can establish. Yes, relying on made-up stuff about the Founding Fathers is, the court has concluded, the most legitimate way to pass a law.

This is all an elaborate piece of theater that means absolutely nothing, as the opinion itself literally acknowledges:

To paraphrase: The respondents must prove that the law in question would have been passed by other people in history. To do so, the respondents provide 700 years’ worth of examples. But, the court says, “not all history is created equal.” What a turn of phrase, huh? Indeed, it is not.

Again, the opinion isn’t even shy about how originalism is just a series of moving targets that you will never be able to hit because there’s a foregone conclusion. The respondents give the Court a bunch of stuff on English history. And maybe, you might say, that’s not super-relevant to American law. Except that, in a previous Second Amendment originalism case, the originalists then were all about the English law and the English ancestors blah blah blah. So the respondents come in with all this English law stuff and here the majority opinion wrinkles its nose and says, “We find that ambiguous.”

See the full post

173 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

I have a question that I hope won’t cause offence, because it is genuine and not meant to be leading or shaming or anything like that.

I love, love, love your series “Swan Song”, and partly that’s because I love music and band culture and well-written fic. So I should read your Peterick stuff right? Because it’s different characters, but still music and band culture and well-written fic, and I already know I love your fic and writing style.

My concern is this: although I am of the generation who feels that everyone should write what they like, if you don’t like something, you shouldn’t read it, and there is no justification for forcing one person’s personal moral boundaries on the wider population *in fiction writing* (obvs in terms of real life actions, real people have to be forced to toe a certain moral line. Obviously. Just not in fic.). I am not sure how I feel about RPF. I mean, I feel people should write what they want, that’s not in question. However, I want to read your fic, but I’m not sure how I feel about reading RPF.

I think what I’m asking is, how do you look at the ethics of RPF - of writing real people with real names, lives, connections, internet access - as fictional characters? How do you reassure yourself that you’re definitely writing fiction and not being weird or presumptuous about the real celebs? Again, I want to be clear, I’m asking this because I love your writing and I really want to be convinced by your ethical argument, so that I can read your band fic without feeling ethically itchy and uncomfortable. I know there’s a ton of holier-than-thou shaming, but I genuinely am not trying to do that.

No pressure to answer if you are over this discussion, I would just like to know, if you feel like answering.

Hello! This is not offensive to me and I'm totally happy to answer this. I am old enough to remember endless RPF discourse on LJ, let me tell you.

First let me say -- I'm with you: People should write what they want to write and other people should read what they want to read.

How did I come around to RPF? Tbh, it started when I realized that, well, it's EVERYWHERE. My favorite movie, for instance, is "The Social Network." That is RPF: a fictional construct around the lives of real people. "The Social Network" lost the Oscar to "The King's Speech," which is more RPF: fictional construct around the lives of real people. And it's not like that year was an outlier: Every year, many of the movies nominated for Best Picture Oscars are fictional stories shaped around real people. So, for instance, last year we had "Judas and the Black Messiah," "Mank," "The Trial of the Chicago 7." This year in the running we have "Tick, Tick...Boom!," "King Richard," "Being the Ricardos." If you define RPF as "fiction about real people," then all of these fit. None of these are exactly true, nor are they even trying to be. And they're not only perfectly legal, they are lauded and held up and admired as virtuoso storytelling.

Once I realized exactly *how pervasive* RPF is, the less I felt guilty about the fic edition of it, because I think fic writers are constantly made to feel lesser in all of their art, and this seemed like another version of it to me.

Now there are lots of lines people draw about RPF: Some are more okay with it if the people are dead, so, for instance, "The Gilded Age" is okay. But as the above examples make clear, non-fic RPF doesn't limit itself to dead people. Nor does it de-sexify these people, such that non-fic RPF is chaste. There's certainly sex lurking in "The Crown."

So, I personally decided that if I was going to be okay with non-fic RPF, if I was going to think "The Social Network" was genius, if I was going to watch "The Crown," then I wasn't going to treat fic RPF differently. Again, everyone can make a different choice for themselves! That might not be persuasive at all! But you asked how I came to my decision, and that was how.

I draw a line myself in what I write and in what I'm comfortable reading. I don't write about their RL kids or partners and I don't tend to read about them, either. But I think that's because of the second part of your question: I am not actually writing about either one of them, and I know that. I am writing about them as archetypes of a certain type of character. So the real details of their lives aren't important to me. They're just inspiration. (I assume this is how the people who write non-fic RPF view it as well, incidentally. Like, I assume they don't think they've written the *actual* conversation Prince Charles and Princess Diana had about Camilla. They're just using what they know to write character archetypes. "The Trial of the Chicago 7" ends with this powerful moment and I looked it up and it was completely made-up lol.)

Now, can there be people who blur the line between fiction and reality, and think that what they are writing is real? Yes, but I think that in that case the fic is a symptom and not a cause. I think the majority of people who write and read RPF don't get confused. In fact, much of the time fic RPF is much more deliberately, outrageously fictional than non-fic RPF, which often pretends to be telling some version of the truth. And to me that makes it, in its way, somewhat less potentially offensive than non-fic RPF, in that it is not often touted as being about exposing these people's inner lives.

Writing fiction about real people is actually one of our pervasive ways of telling stories. We've done it forever, and we've praised it forever. "Here are real people who lived, let me tell you about all their drama," said Dante and Shakespeare and Chaucer. (Sorry, my degree was heavily Western-literature-based.) This New Yorker article described Virginia Woolf as "describ[ing] the impulse to imagine the private lives of others as the art of the young—a matter of survival—and of the novelist, who never tires of this work, who sees an old woman crying in a railway car and begins to imagine her inner life."

So anyway. You may never be comfortable with fic RPF, and that is totally okay, not everyone is or has to be. But this was my journey to it.

230 notes - Posted January 28, 2022

There are a whole plethora of reasons why Elon Musk is Not A Nice Person and why I don’t want his takeover of Twitter to be a success (which is sad, because I otherwise like Twitter and miss it terribly), but among them is this phenomenon whereby he fired his employees for not wanting to accept his deranged, abusive, demanding terms of employment...and now people are being encouraged to go work for him FOR FREE because it’s such a “great opportunity” and he’s such a great person to learn from and blah bah blah

No. NO. We cannot have Elon Musk make a success of Twitter by firing paid employees to hire unpaid interns, argh argh argh!!

321 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So, a thing I was thinking about FOB8, is I’m pretty sure they don’t have any contractual obligations at this point, right? Like, they finished their contract with Island when Mania came out and the last we heard from them, they were happy not to have a label and they were just going to go it on their own. And I haven’t heard anything different, and the length of time it took them to come out with this album leads me to believe that yeah, they don’t have any kind of label breathing down their neck.

So, for one thing, I’m so deeply curious and excited for this album that presumably is exactly what they want it to be because they didn’t have any other cooks in the kitchen but them and who they specifically invited.

But, for another thing, that means that their crack publicity team of, like, Pete Wentz, his teenage son, and a squirrel are running this album’s promotion and I can’t stop laughing over what a wild ride I expect this to be. like.

Pete Wentz circa 2018 in many, many, MANY interviews: We are very excited not to have any record label contracts anymore! We’re going to be free and clear to do every crazy thing we want to do!!!!! The sky is the limit!!1!!!1!!!! UNLEASHED FALL OUT BOY TIME!!!!!11!!!!!!

Pete Wentz in 2022: Let’s take out a full-page ad in the Chicago Tribune.

542 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post

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tinyyoungblood · 3 years ago

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hi!! adore your work love. could you maybe do smth where stark!reader has to get her wisdom teeth out but HATES the dentist so she brings her boyf peter and her dad w her?? and then when they get home the avengers are all waiting with like comical amounts of flowers and stuffed animals and then reader says some funny shiii and thor thinks she’s like dying lol. idk if that made sense but i’m getting my wisdom teeth out soon and i’m scared😭 thank u so so much love u babe

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: tysm lovely :,) i rushed through this like my life depended on it, but i hope i’m not too late. either way, i hope you’re okay! it’s frightening but those bad boys gotta go because we don’t need that kind of energy in our lives. enjoy x

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wisdom teeth? more like wisdoom

y/n has to get her wisdom teeth removed and it’s the singular most dreadful thing she’s ever had to do, which says a lot because her dad is tony richling stark

doing dreadful things she doesn’t want to do but still somehow end up doing just because she can is a personality trait at this point

no one really makes a big deal out of it since ~death~ is part of their job description, but y/n is terrified

and when a stark is terrified the only thing that will keep them one step from insanity is researching the hell out of it

that information will be info dumped into every conversation for the next few weeks leading up to the appointment

“y/n you need anything from the store?” "no thanks, did you know the side effects of getting your wisdom teeth out include ✨sudden death or blood clots✨ tho” “……..i have a coupon?”

the day of the appointment, peter comes along and literally doesn’t let go of y/n’s hand. he keeps touching her to let her know that he’s there and it’s so. adorable

he would rest his hand on her knee, gently stroke her back while holding her, or just play with her hair

happy drops them off and he’s too Cool™ for emotions but he knows y/n’s a wreck, so he just fist bumps her with a single nod and she almost breaks down bc it’s really affectionate

y/n is sitting in the dentist chair and genuinely nothing is happening yet, but she’s squeezing peter’s hand like it’s a sponge

peter might have a high pain tolerance but he’s in pain pain and he prays that his hand won’t just explode on him

the dentist notices how peter tries to keep it together and chuckles

“you okay there, son?” “yea it’s fine, had a better time when a building fell on me tho haha” “pardon?” “oh i mean i didn’t have a good time, i just had a better time”

because y/n is running Anxious Town™, the dentist gives her a sedative to help her relax

plus, an injection of local anaesthetic to numb the tooth and surrounding area

she doesn’t feel anything and it’s GREAT

the procedure is quicker than expected and now the real fun begins

she tries to walk but she falls down so peter scoops her up bridal style and happy stays glued at her side

y/n doesn’t mind although she literally doesn’t recognise them and they’re practically strangers to her

but girly sees an opportunity and tries to flirt with peter bc why wouldn’t she

“you’re pretty” *blushes* “why thanks” “you should let your girlfriend know” “i should let her know i’m pretty?” “so you do have a gf? :(” “yea it’s you” “:)”

they stop for gas and peter goes in to get some water for y/n, and in her infinite wisdom, she decides it’s burger time

her mouth is completely numb and she’s practically leaving a trail of drool behind her, but she’d kill for a burger right now

so she wobbles around aimlessly for an hour on some random parking lot as if the ground might just magically open up like a rabbit hole and lead her to five guys

she’s going places. not back to the car. definitely not five guys. they’re closed. but places

peter finally finds her and he’s drenched from head to toe in sweat. he doEsn’T wAnt tO tALk abOut iT tho so she lets him take her to subway instead

normally, she would know that peter’s usual subway order is bread-lettuce-jalapeño

but in her drugged-up state, it had simply slipped her mind so now she’s staring at him like he’d just murdered someone right in front of her

“that- that’s your order?? no meat or anything just bread, lettuce, and a little spice?”

meanwhile at the compound, sam and steve are ordering everyone around bc they want to decorate this place before y/n gets home to surprise her

they take it very seriously too. they’ve watched like one HGTV show and said it’s our time

they finally get home and tony gives y/n a big hug, asking her what took so long

happy tells him that she was keen on getting burgers bc apparently someone has taught her that stressful times call for ~cheeseburgers~

he proceeds to look at tony with a pointed look

tony just shrugs and goes “she was a problem child. we don’t mention her dark past”

she’s swaying on the spot and keeps grinning like a fool and thor just stares at her weirdly before elbowing bruce and whispering loudly,

“what’s wrong with her? is she dying? should i start collecting leaves, i know this remedy—"

no one can tell if y/n is just happy to see the newly decorated home or if she’s just delighted to see everyone but then she goes around hugging the entire team

she doesn’t even acknowledge the sky-high pile of teddy bears and flowers everywhere bc she’s just squeezing everybody

y/n is so high, she just starts to spill all of her feelings about everyone and they’re already so overwhelmed by the hug chain they can’t take this too

“wanda i just want you to know that you’re like my big sister and you’re always taking care of me and i know you and vision are just going to make such good parents one day”

“bucky you absolute PRICK, you FIEND, you’re the best chess player ever and that’ll never change and i wouldn’t be good without you, i hate to say it but you deserve happiness even after you made me lose five times in a row yesterday”

“dad, you’re so strong and smart, even though we’re like never on the same page, you’re always along for the ride, i want to be like you when i grow up, i swear i’m gonna try to be as good to the avengers as you were to us” “aww- wait makes you think i'll be the first to die“

“nat you’re such a bitch about your protein shakes but you’re my best friend and i wouldn’t have it any other way, you can try out as many make up looks on me as you want”

“bruce, brucey, i would live with you in your lab for the rest of my days if i had to, whenever you ask me to hand you stuff i feel useful and important”

“laura’s way out of your league clint i have no idea how the fuck you got her but don’t lose her and i want to be your next child’s godmother”

“steve…we’re your family now. we’re always gonna be your family now. okay?”

“loki you’re not fooling anyone with your attitude, we all know you’re part of the family, you were just misunderstood and messed up bc of your dad–FUCK him by the way–but i realised everyone deserves as many chances as they need because of you”

“sam i would genuinely kill anyone who wronged you, even if they cut you in line at the grocery store, i would knife them no hesitation”

“thor, you poor golden retriever have been through so much, on my way here i made a wish on an eyelash for you bc you deserve better, your postcards always make my day, love you”

she mumbles something to peter that no one else can hear but he blushes and chokes back a sob

y/n orders hot soup and bucky brings it to her but before he even has time to react peter drops everything and ZOOMS across the room in .3 seconds

he barrels into bucky so hard they both go flying, but peter just smoothly rolls out of it and onto his feet like some kind of super ninja

“DUDE WHAT THE HELL” “😠 y/n is not supposed to drink hot liquids 😠”

all of this happens in mere seconds but sam has filmed it all and now slow mo clips go viral online of some mysterious kid knocking over the winter soldier

y/n’s a little in and out after that, but when she fully regains consciousness, she’s on a pile of blankets, surrounded by the team on the floor <3

* * *

let me know if this is actually comforting lmao stay hydrated pals

hc masterlist

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker headcanon #peter parker fluff #avengers x you #avenger x reader #avengers headcanon #tony stark headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #natasha romanoff headcanon #thor headcanon #loki headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon #sam wilson headcanon #avengers crack #peter parker concept #peter parker x y/n #avengers x y/n

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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Prompt: Wei Wuxian has achieved time travel! He's gonna fix so many broken things. Unfortunately, WWX has miscalculated a teensy tiny variable and instead of arriving in his original 15yo body in Lotus Pier, he's crash landed in MXY's tiny 7~8yo body at Mo Manor. But no problem, he can fix this if he can just find his real body. (Meanwhile, Yunmeng Jiang's head disciple is acting the wrong kind of childish, aka, Mo Xuanyu is having the weirdest day of his young life.)

Switcheroo - ao3

Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.

Possibly it had to do with the fact that Mo Xuanyu still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d stolen the body – he’d just gone to sleep in the shed, same as always, and then he’d woken up in the softest bed he’d ever encountered in his life…no, softer than even his dreams! He’d thought it over and concluded that he must have died from cold out in the shed, turned into a fierce ghost out of resentment, grown powerful (somehow), then stolen some rich young master’s body when they weren’t paying close enough attention and, once he’d possessed the body, promptly lost all his memory of being a ghost.

It seemed like the only logical course of events.

He was very sorry about it, though. Wei Wuxian seemed like a nice, if very unusual person.

The first day, Mo Xuanyu had barely even noticed the body-switch, being quite so enamored of the soft bed he was in – he’d refused to get out of bed at all, declaring that he was going to lie in and sleep for a century or more, and the people who’d come to the door to get him didn’t beat him or anything over it, but rather just laughed or rolled their eyes and then left him to it. Luckily, at the time, he’d just assumed he was dead or something and proceeded to ignore everything in favor of napping.

He only acknowledged that he was alive later in the afternoon, when his stomach started growling – it seemed like a very unlikely thing for a dead man’s stomach to do.

Mo Xuanyu had by that point figured out that he wasn’t himself anymore, which was fine since he didn’t much like himself; he’d also figured out, through looking himself over, that he was old now. At least fifteen or sixteen, which was twice the age he last remembered himself being. That was fine, too, though: being older meant that he was stronger and faster and would be better able to handle it when people wanted to beat him or something. Most importantly, though, it meant he was old enough to enter the kitchen on his own!

Mo Xuanyu already knew that he wasn’t allowed to eat at the main table, being only the bastard son of the younger daughter, and the cook back at home was a fierce woman who didn’t allow anyone under the age of ten into her kitchen; as a result, he had to wait for his mother to bring him back some food, and it was always cold and not quite enough. Now, though, since he was older, he figured he might as well try to go to the kitchen and fill his belly that way.

Luckily, while his current body’s house was much bigger than the Mo house, all houses were generally built along the same lines, so it wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. Everyone there laughed when he showed up, even though he’d tried to be very quiet and sneak in and then screwed it up by tripping over his own feet – it seemed like everyone thought he was doing it on purpose to be funny – and then the cooks gave him a meal of his own that was hot and fresh and wonderful.

He'd wolfed it down.

“Honestly, Wei Wuxian, you eat like a hungry ghost, you’d think the Jiang clan starves you,” one of them scolded him, but with a smile, and from that Mo Xuanyu learned that the rich young master was called Wei Wuxian and that he lived with the Jiang clan. The different surnames confused him a little, but he didn’t dare ask any questions about it, so he just stuffed his mouth and pretended that was the reason he couldn’t answer.

No one questioned it.

No one questioned it when he went wandering all around instead of doing whatever chores or duties he’d been assigned, either. Someone had actually seen him hovering by a door and asked him to bring back a pheasant when he returned, so out of lack of better options he’d headed outside to try to go find one.

He had a pretty good time walking around the forest, then remembered what he’d been asked and chased the pheasants for a while, without success . Fortunately, he then got lucky and stumbled over an old snare that had three pheasants caught inside, so he’d picked up the whole box and carted it back home.

“Three,” one of the boys in purple-blue marveled as he saw Mo Xuanyu walking towards the kitchen. “You know, people say that the birds around the Lotus Pier have gotten too smart to be caught easily, but look at our da-shixiong; he makes it look easy!”

From this, Mo Xuanyu could figure out that Wei Wuxian was (apparently!) part of a cultivator clan, apparently located at a place called the Lotus Pier, and that he was the oldest or at least head disciple, to boot. He knew all about cultivator clans from his mother, since apparently his father had been a sect leader, and that meant he knew enough to call the other boy ‘shidi’ as he passed, making the other boy beam happily.

It also meant that when he chanced a guess and called the young woman in a pretty pink dress who waved at him ‘shijie’, she smiled and nodded, which meant to him that he’d done the right thing.

“I heard you slept even more of the morning away than usual,” she told him, but didn’t seem too upset about it. “I bet that means you’ll be skipping dinner and staying up all night, hmm?”

Mo Xuanyu had no intention of skipping dinner if it was anything like what the kitchens had given him earlier, actually, but while he was still trying to figure out a way to say that, she said, leaning in close to whisper, “It’s probably a good idea, anyway – Mother and Father are fighting again. Just go to the kitchens to grab something…I promise I’ll make it up to you with some soup tomorrow, pork ribs and lotus roots, your favorite. All right?”

“Shijie, you’re the best,” Mo Xuanyu said effusively, willing to die for her at once, and she laughed and tousled his hair.

“I am,” she said, looking happy. “And if my little A-Xian stays good and obedient, I may even feed him.”

She did, too, the next day when he finally tore himself out of the beautiful wonderful soft bed and went to go find her. She’d made him soup, just as he’d promised, and laughed and laughed for some reason: apparently, she interpreted him being quiet and not talking too much as his efforts to be ‘good and obedient’, which was apparently so out of the ordinary as to be a deliberate joke.

From this, Mo Xuanyu concluded that the young master he’d possessed, Wei Wuxian, was a jackass.

Well, perhaps that was a bit harsh. Arrogant and self-centered, talented and brave and probably brilliant, definitely charming and maybe even kind, but also spoiled and inclined to step on other people to get where he wanted to go, if Mo Xuanyu had to guess – why else would everyone constantly react as if him not being obnoxious was the world’s biggest stunt?

No one seemed to expect anything of him at all: he didn’t do any chores, and no one batted an eyelid; he didn’t go where he was told, and everyone just sighed…at one point the sect leader himself came and patted him on the head, scolding him in a joking tone that he hadn’t seen him leading any of the training the way he was supposed to �� but when Mo Xuanyu quailed, he’d burst out laughing, telling ‘Wei Wuxian’ to stop pretending to be a scared little rabbit, that it was fine if he’d gotten distracted by some clever new invention or whatever, that someone else would handle it, that he should take as long as he needed.

Mo Xuanyu had pasted a great big smile on his face through force of effort and agreed cheerfully.

The sect leader had accepted it.

Probably a jackass, but clearly a beloved one, Mo Xuanyu thought to himself as he packed up clothing and a few small treasures that no one would miss, a little wistful. The scare of the whole encounter had put things in perspective – he wasn’t going to be able to keep up this sort of façade for long. In fact, he was shocked he’d managed it so long already; surely, no matter how many pranks this Wei Wuxian played, no matter how childishly he behaved, surely someone should’ve noticed that he was actually an eight-year-old masquerading as a sixteen-year-old?

Mo Xuanyu couldn’t decide whether it was sad that no one paid too much attention or something that this Wei Wuxian fellow had brought down on his own head by being so consistently annoying.

Either way, there was nothing for it – he was going to have to leave.

Now that part was really sad: he’d never in his life had such good food, or such a soft bed, or even so many people that just seemed plain old happy to see him as since he’d arrived in this place. But he wasn’t the one all those things were for; he was just a sad ghost possessing a person, and if he stayed, the cultivators would eventually figure out something was wrong and exorcise him.

Probably violently.

Mo Xuanyu probably deserved it, too, but despite that he wasn’t willing.

So he packed up what he could and headed out.

He got all the way to the gate before a new purple-clad disciple – about his age, if he had to guess, and holding a pack like he’d just come back from a trip, with a scowl on his face – called out for Wei Wuxian.

Mo Xuanyu waved a little, hoping that that would be enough.

For the first time, it wasn’t.

The boy’s face settled into an even deeper scowl.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Wei Wuxian! You’re acting all weird – hey! Where are you going?”

Mo Xuanyu was running away, obviously. He wasn’t about to get tied up and exorcised, no thank you.

He didn’t think he’d make it, but it was still worth trying.

Sure enough, the purple-clad boy who was probably called Jiang Cheng, based on what everyone was calling out as they ran by, got tired of running and jumped on his sword, and there was no way Mo Xuanyu would be able to outrun a sword, not even if he tried as fast as he –

Someone picked him up.

It wasn’t Jiang Cheng.

Mo Xuanyu turned his head and stared.

It must be some sort of yao, he thought. Humans were definitely not that pretty.

“Lan Wangji!” Jiang Cheng howled. “What are you even doing in the Lotus Pier?! Put my shixiong down!”

The rescuer, Lan Wangji, frowned a little at Mo Xuanyu.

Mo Xuanyu didn’t know exactly what expression he ought to be making in return, and was a bit too dazed to even dare to guess. He’d just noticed that they were flying – flying! on a sword! – and he was clutching onto this Lan Wangji’s shoulders for dear life.

“You are not Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. His voice sounded very definitive.

“Uh,” Mo Xuanyu said. “Sorry? Please don’t drop me.”

“I will not. What is your name?”

“Mo Xuanyu,” Mo Xuanyu admitted, and Lan Wangji’s eyes widened as if that meant something to him – except it couldn’t, of course, because Mo Xuanyu was sure he’d never met anyone even remotely like this Lan Wangji fellow in his life. “I don’t remember taking his body. I’m sorry. Can you not exorcise me? I don’t want to die.”

Lan Wangji was silent for a long moment.

He was still flying very fast, and Jiang Cheng was still following, shouting out curses and demands that he stop, not that Lan Wangji was listening.

“There will be no exorcism,” he finally said, and Mo Xuanyu exhaled in relief. “We will, however, fix this.”

“…we?”

“Wei Ying and myself.”

Mo Xuanyu nodded. That sounded more likely than anyone relying on his participation.

“Where are we going?” he asked. Jiang Cheng was falling further and further behind.

“Mo Village.”

Mo Xuanyu tensed up at once.

“You will not be left there,” Lan Wangji clarified, and – how did he know that Mo Xuanyu didn’t want to be left there? “But we must collect Wei Ying, who I suspect is currently in your body.”

“In my…I’m still alive?”

Lan Wangji was quiet again, and then said, “Yes. And you will remain so.”

That was reassuring, mostly.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and found that he mostly felt relieved. He’d be very happy to have his normal body back again, if possible, especially if he didn’t have to stay in Mo Village…“Wait, if I don’t have to stay there, where will I go? I don’t have anywhere else to go, unless my father comes back for me. He's a sect leader –”

“He will not, and even if he did, you should not go with him. Once Wei Ying returns to his body, you will be able to stay at the Lotus Pier. If you do not wish to stay there, I will bring you back to the Cloud Recesses – that is my home – instead.”

“Oh,” Mo Xuanyu said, feeling bewildered. That was an awfully nice offer, even if Lan Wangji was feeling guilty about Wei Wuxian stealing his body by accident – which seemed like what had happened here rather than Mo Xuanyu being the one who did the stealing. Maybe he should go with Lan Wangji instead, he seemed much more responsible than Wei Wuxian was, rushing over to rescue him and explain things instead of throwing him into a body and leaving him all alone in a strange place. But on the other hand… “Is the Cloud Recesses…I mean…no offense, but…does it have…”

“Yes?”

“Does it have soft beds, too? And – and hot food?”

Mo Xuanyu didn’t need much, not really. He looked eagerly at Lan Wangji, who had an odd expression on his face briefly before wiping it back to neutral and nodding in confirmation.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and curled up in Lan Wangji’s arms. “Then I’ll stay with you. You can take care of me.”

“I will,” Lan Wangji said, sounding strangely serious. “In return for the gift you last gave me – I will.”

#mdzs #mo xuanyu #jiang cheng #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #switcheroo

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

Text

Rabbit Boy | JJK x Reader | 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Wordcount: 10.3k (Long)

Genre: Romance, Friends/strangers to lovers, Smut, BDSM because I'm making that a genre now

Tags/Warnings: BDSM themes (please I'm begging you stop reading my shit if it makes you uncumfortable), mentions of restrainment, light shibari, edging, orgasm denial (very mild), Subspace, Domspace because yes thats a thing, Dom/sub dynamics, Biting, Oral (m and f receiving), riding, and not the horseback kind if you know what I mean, protected sex yes, we love an organized household, there's just so much sweet filth istg

Summary: Jungkook is wild, untamed, and doesn't really commit to anyone for long. But maybe, you're his only exception in this world. Maybe, you're really that perfect partner he's been looking for.

Jungkook likes to think of himself as an artist.

Sure, if people knew exactly what the young man does in his freetime (or as a side job, don't judge, we all want to make money out of our hobbies stop lying to yourself), they would surely look at him differently.

But he's an artist, nonetheless.

Technically, Jungkook also doesn't need to do what he does simply for the money. No, his main job pays very well- considering that he's one of the top elite in his genre of games. He doesn't just merely play and win a game; Jungkook, just like most things he touches, claims complete ownership of the match he's fighting. It's a well known fact that he's someone who likes things for himself. He loves control, craves to lead, and hates to be belittled.

Oh and yeah- financially, investing in an indie-game three years back had also done his bank account some good.

Now, at an age where he can be fully considered a man, and not a boy anymore, he craves control in different aspects of life- and love.

Jungkook has a problem however.

He's wild.

Not in the way one might think he is (although several people could argue that yes, that's also the case in bed..) but generally. He loves to control- but he hates to be tied down.

And a mindset like that doesn't work well with relationships.

He's had them before, don't get him wrong. He's had numerous in the past, but they all either broke apart because he would hold that particular desire back, making him antsy and moody, or he would welcome his partners into his world, and become uncomfortable with the way things would progress.

No, he doesn't want to experiment. He knows exactly what he wants, and if that means he's 'close-minded' and a bad person, then so be it for him.

He never liked the constant company in his apartment anyways.

"Ah, I've seen her before. She's usually a regular for Yoongi though." Taehyung says, checking a name for Jungkook, who's doodling on a napkin while he waits for his new appointment to show up. "I see. I forgot that Yoongi took some days off recently- that's probably why she's now under your hand." He explains, and Jungkook huffs, his blonde hair tickling his cheek.

"So I'll have to adjust? I mean, Yoongi's style is pretty different from mine." The young man says, not looking up. He simply continues his little sketch of braided hair, while the lanky guy behind the counter clicks away on his laptop.

"Probably? I can't check the logs since they're private, but from what I know Yoongi only did the usual with her." he explains, shrugging as he looks at his friend and colleague. "I can re-schedule her to Hoseok if you want?" He asks, and Jungkook, after finishing his drawing, lets the pen fall and stretches.

"Yeah, that would probably be best. Wouldn't know what to do if she drops- rather not have him rip my head off, thanks." He says, before he gets up.

"Ah- you're still coming over tonight right? Y/N said she's gonna cook for us." He says, and Jungkooks body shivers a little.

Your name is nothing new to him, but the reaction to it most certainly was. You're a friend of Yoongi and Hoseok, having joined in on their gaming nights a few months ago after Yoongi had insisted you couldn't stay alone on a christmas day. Jungkook had never really asked why you were alone in the first place, but he had never really cared much for it either. Sure, you were an absolute gem to look at; technically absolutely his type, but he had early on decided not to pursue anything at all with you. He knew friendship wouldn't stay friendship with you, his own hunger way too large to simply be satiated by platonic gestures-

and he was also sure you wouldn't be able to handle him, truly. The conversation with Jimin, one of your best friends, had changed nothing about that. Because he didn't know you well enough to quite know if you were only bark and no bite- or if you were genuinely craving the same things he did.

But most recently, there had been a change in his opinion on you. Because he had seen you, come out of this place, out of Yoongis studio.

You knew about all of this- and you were still around.

Nothing had changed.

Now, of course he had instantly poked holes into the poor guy about if he had ever played with you before- and the answer he had gotten, had made him even more interested and antsy to get closer to you.

Because while you trusted Yoongi with everything you had, he had never done anything with you. You had simply been interested in watching a scene unfold- and had told him that you were definitely interested in participating. The reason Jungkook couldn't ask you directly was a clear one-

You were majorly intimidated by him, to the point of, he had never really had a proper conversation with you. Partially, he had to admit, because he himself didn't want to involve himself too much with you.

He’d always asked himself; wouldn’t you be even more distant and reserved with him if you knew this side of him? Sure, you always joked around that he probably tied his girls up and edged them until they cried- but did you know that he genuinely enjoyed these things?

Relationships for him were mere covers to call the arrangements he had with the girls that came and went in his life in a constant changing matter. Deep down, no one night stand could satisfy his most carnal desires, and he was very well aware of that. But he rather took what he could get and lived a fever dream for a few moments than stay on his own simply because his idea of pleasure and sex was not the norm.

No, he refused to deny himself that.

Maybe it was because he’d always lived a rather lavish life- with his parents well off and his own career skyrocketing he never really had any worries like you have had in the past. For some odd reason, while looking at the soft red rope in his hands, his thoughts suddenly went astray; he knew he could give you the stability you oh so craved, in every way shape and form. You were a diamond simply waiting to be perfected- you had so much potential, knowing that you were secretly wandering around the same paths as he did made him even more frustrated.

The hints were there, they were obvious; from the way you had sighed out in bliss when he’d teasingly pulled your hair just hours ago, to the sinful confessions he’d heard that night when he overheard you and jimin by accident. Of course he’d maybe wasted a thought or two of you underneath him to humor him once or twice- but now with the rope in his hands, his mind immediately began painting pictures of it against your skin. Would you enjoy it? And what if he took your sight, or only bound your hands? What if he denied you to cum, or if he took you from behind, grabbing your hair and pushing down your spine to make it arch so prettily- never with the intend to hurt, of course. He knew he’d have to tame you first, make you submit, but then again, he loved the challenge.

You made even the idea of touching fun.

He wouldn't even have to undress you to fully get himself worked up, he was sure of that. Only seeing you bow to his very command would be enough to satisfy him. Of course, over the course of time he would lead you deeper and deeper into his rabbit hole, but he would take it slow for you.

So, with a smile, and a wave of his hand, he walked past the girl he knew had been his appointment- grinning at Taehyung. "Of course I'll be there."

He wouldn't dare miss a night with you.

You were stressing. A little.

Maybe.

Maybe a lot.

Everything would've been fine if they guys would've all come over. But due to the bad weather, and Taehyungs bad habit of never properly fixing his god-forsaken dumpster of a car, only one of them would be able to make it. And of course the one had to be Jeon Jungkook.

Just great.

Now, it wasn't like you didn't like the guy, no way. The problem was more, that he was on the exact opposite of that spectrum. You had a major crush on him, which felt like the plot to a really bad drama show you would watch drunk at night- and in a way, it really felt like one too. Because you were pretty sure, he didn't even know your name.

But oh well- apparently he knew more than that. More specifically, your phone number. And it had scared the shit out of you at first to receive a message from him because how the hell did he get your number, but then again you remembered that one of your connections was Kim Taehyung- and everyone knew what he knew.

It was the doorbell that ripped you out of your skin almost.

You didn't even change, deciding any effort would be too late anyways; and you were still heavily confused in the first place why the fuck he would come over alone, even though you two had never exchanged much more than a friendly hello and goodbye. But there he was, as you opened the door- soft, white hoodie and ripped jeans, a bit damp from the rain outside as you let him inside.

He didn't move.

"Uh-" You started, but he just looked at you, friendly as ever, although a teasing glint in his eye made you frown a bit.

He thought it was cute.

"You didn't tell me to come in." He said, and you blinked once, twice, before your brain had properly restarted.

"Oh uh- come in?" You said, again, moving a bit to the side so he could walk in- which he still didn't. "Jungkook come on now its fucking cold-!" You whined, and he laughed, finally stepping inside. Had he always been like that? Could very well be the case, after all, you had never truly paid much attention to his behavior before.

"Thanks for letting me come over." He said, and you watched him as he untied his boots. "I had nothing else to do- and also, I didn't want you to waste any food, considering Tae said you cooked for us." He explained, before he got up again from his half kneeling position, boots now standing next to your significantly smaller shoes.

"Ah, it would've been fine, you guys don't have to feel bad." You waved off, smiling. "I was about to stop cooking anyways when Jimin had texted me, but well, then you did and uhm.." You drifted off, noticing how you were suddenly waiting for him to lead the way.

In your own apartment.

What the hell?

If he noticed however, he didn't show it. He simply smiled, and moved his hands inside the front pocket of his hoodie. "Ah, thanks. I appreciate it, really." He said, and you smiled at him as well, walking towards the main area of your apartment. It was small, very small compared to his own, but he enjoyed the feeling of it. Everything around him reminded him of you, in a way; from the pictures taped to the walls, to the stickers on your fridge. It all held a piece of you in it. "Your apartment is really nice, by the way." He commented, and you turned around, before getting plates and cutlery to bring inside the living room.

"Ah, right, it's your first time here." You said. "Thanks- the living room is right around the corner there, you can just sit down and I'll bring everything there." You explained, and he smiled, nodding without arguing.

You liked that.

Typically, there would've been this awkward 'oh no let me help you', but Jungkook didn't seem to dwell on it much, letting you do your thing instead of butting in and making things weird. He simply walked where you had directed him, sitting down on the couch as he went to place a blanket to the side. His fingers moved over the fabric for a moment, noticing how everything on the couch, including the pillows, were made of that same, soft material.

Interesting.

"Oh- you can just put that to the side, sorry I forgot to clean that up." You said, putting the food onto the table as he just smiles again. He waits for you to sit down as well before you turn up the TV volume a little, nerves finally setting in as you notice there's almost nothing you can talk to him about. "This is awkward." You comment, and he chuckles at that swallowing his bite as he looks at you.

"Doesn't have to be." He states, before he turns his body a bit more into your direction; a visible sign that he wants a conversation. "Tae has never mentioned what you do for a living." He states, an unasked question of his. He lets you decide if you want to take it as one or leave it as a statement- it makes you feel nice, in a way.

"Ah uh.. it's really boring, so I guess I never really talk about it either.." You say, and he tilts his head a little, a silent urging for you to continue. You feel insignificant next o him and his job however. He's superior to you in any way, and you don't want him to feel pity or laugh at you for your job. "I uh.. I'm a programmer for a.. pretty unknown game studio." You say, body almost shrinking in on itself as you wait for his reaction. Much to your surprise however, he makes a sound that's purely surprise, as he swallows his bite with a bit of urgency.

"Fuck really?! That's so cool though!" He argues, brows furrowed a bit as he playfully accuses you with his next words. "Indie or not, a programmer is the main force of any game. Did you work on any games I might know of?" He asks, eyes sparkling as he realizes he had finally found something to bond with you over.

"Uh.. 'Rabbit Boy' was our best hit until now.." You say, still a bit shy, but you're also a tad more confident now. His reaction is either well-staged, or he's genuinely interested in what you do.

"I played it I think. It was a bit short, but I loved the mechanics." He says, and before he can quite stop himself, his hand has already reached out to you, running over your hair as he praises you like second nature. "Wuah, so smart!" He says, before he gets a reaction he wouldn't have thought he'd get from shy-you.

Because you playfully shove him, your socked feet pushed against the side of his thigh as you giggle at him.

Interesting, again.

Now, Jimin has actually told him about this before. How you were anything but the shy girl when you were around people you knew and trusted. He had believed it- to an extend- because he had also thought that maybe you were like that to prove your spot between those guys. As the only girl, you easily got thrown under the bus, so you had to somehow own your spot in the midst of your circle of friends.

However, it seemed like you were truly just a brat, hiding behind that innocent facade of yours. A barking dog, with every intent to bite if needed.

And Jungkook knew, he'd love to tame you, show you your spot, and make you his prey.

The trashy movie your watching bores you, in a way. Jungkook has noticed this already, having taken note of your feet wiggling around, your teeth nibbling on the inside of your cheek, as you rest your cheek on your hand, elbow resting on the side of the couch.

“I don’t know why she’s so hesitant.” You mutter, pouting as you slump into the couch- uncaring that the side of your body now leans against his own. He feels your warmth- and for some reason it brings him comfort to notice that you’re seemingly growing more at ease. “I mean, it’s what she’s into, right?” You say, brows furrowed as you watch the screen.

“It’s not that simple.” Jungkook explains, trying to not make it obvious that he’s not necessarily talking about the movie. “Some men like to you know.. fight for a partner. Impress them. Win them over.” He explains, and he can feel you shift a little- until your head raises a bit, watching him as he watches you; gazes locked, and you can’t look away. You’re shy, you’re growing restless, but his eyes are like magnets; there’s no way you can avert your gaze.

“And.. you?” You ask, voice not loud at all, as if you don’t even notice you’re saying it. He loves that- loves the fact that you’re slowly letting him closer- not only physically.

“I like to earn my spot in their lives.” He states, and your mind suddenly begins to spin. You’ve always seen him as someone who doesn’t care much about emotions or feelings, or relationships for that matter. And maybe he doesn’t- maybe he just says this because he knows your weak spots. But the way his words fall into your ears makes you believe him. “I like to see my partner thrive; I love to see them grow. And..” he says, boldly deciding to slowly reach out his hand that was placed on the back of the couch- his fingers running through your hair, only brushing through, never pulling (no matter how much you’re craving it secretly). “I love to see them let go.” He humms out, and there’s a sudden shiver down your back, one that he definitely notices.

This is it. This is where you’ll let him touch you, let him wreck you, let him ruin you. You lean in closer, and so does he, but just when your lips are about to touch, he smiles gently- a warm affectionate gesture that you’ve never seen from him. And with it being directed at you, it’s even more meaningful- but it’s all about his next move, the way his inked fingers trace your cheek, before he speaks.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And with that, he turns back to the TV.

You huff, and it's the first time you know exactly what you're doing. You knew from Yoongi what Jungkook did in his freetime- you knew that this stuff was his expertise. Defeated, you looked down towards your knees, as your thoughts start to grow more and more frustrated. He probably didn't even see you like that, having only visited you out of pity, and not because he wanted to see you.

You were probably already friendzoned, and he was too nice to outright say it into your face. It made your emotions turn sour as the situation grew more and more awkward for you.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks, and you don't answer. What was there to say anyways? You really didn't want to have this weird conversation where he would tell you that oh yeah you're a nice girl, but he's not the right guy, the usual stuff you've already heard time and time again. "Y/N." He says, his voice dropping a little, but you only chew on the inside of your cheek again, eyes moving towards the TV screen. You didn't want to talk- you just hoped he would now sigh and get up, leaving so you could forget about all of this. You could maybe fake being sick for the next week or so to avoid him, yeah, that would be enough time to gloss over this entire situation. But he only clicks his tongue, hands suddenly moving your legs as he moves your body to face him.

Looking at his face is your first mistake.

His eyes are dark and almost angry, irritated as he looks as you. His jaw is clenched, and his hands stay on your knees for a moment, before he's sure enough that he has your attention. Only then does he speak, his voice nowhere near as soft and light as it had been before. "I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it." He says, and that's when you make your second mistake.

"Can we not right now? You don't know shit." You say, and he stares you down for a moment, until his head tilts a slight bit, eyes growing predatory as the corners of his lips tilt upwards. It resembles a small smile, yes, but it's not meant to be one. No, the first thing you have to think about is a wolf snarling at you, ready to put his packmate into their place for acting out.

It makes your spine tingle.

"Hm, maybe, but we can be classy about it, no?" He asks, and you scoff, trying to move your legs away from him, as he scans you.

At this point, he can see clearly that you're testing him.

So he gets up promptly, moving you around so you're standing in front of him. His inked hand finds your hair, gripping without mercy as he pulls your head back, your gaze now forced to stay on his as he calmly speaks. "You think I'm not into you like that- and you're as wrong as you could ever get." He says, biting his tongue as to not let a petname slip. He'd love to use them, but he knows that it's not yet time. That would be foul play, in a way; he doesn't want to seduce you.

He wants to make you understand.

"Trust me when I say I'd love to just throw you over my legs to spank that attitude out of you right now." He explains, and you whine- not in pain, but simply as a reaction to his confession. "But you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He continues, and pulls a bit to interrupt your next words. You know that you can get free any second you want to- but for some reason, there's no urge to do so. "You think of this as some game to play, you think of yourself as someone who can take all of it at once, but you don't even get the simplest and most important things about this entire thing." You swallow, as you stay still, finally giving up your fight as he relaxes the grip he still has on you. "Even now, it's not me controlling this situation. Its you." He says, letting go of you as his hands rest on your cheeks, eyes searching for any clues of discomfort. Only when he finds none, does he continue. "I will only ever have as much control over you as you're willing to give to me." He smiles again, this time, warm and comforting. "If you're really willing to do this, we will do this right. You'll have to trust me first, and I'll have to get to know you fully first, before anything else happens. Understood?" He asks.

And you nod.

"Do you know what you just agreed to?" He chuckles, and, shyly, you shake your head.

"See?" He grins, breaking skincontact with you. "You're not ready yet."

His brows furrow when he sees you sitting on the counter, Taehyung talking to you. "What're you doing here?" He asks, and you pout, as Taehyung moves away, not wanting to get involved into anything this time. "Stop that face. We talked about this last week, why're you here now?" He asks, and you tilt your head innocently.

"Maybe I'm here for Yoongi?" You say, and his eyes grow darker for a second, before he composes himself.

"Good try, but he's still off work." He states, and you deflate a bit.

"I just.. wanted to see, I guess." You say, and he smiles a bit impishly.

"Oh? I mean, I have a scene in twenty minutes.." He asks, and internally, you cringe. No, you don't want to see him screw or even touch another woman in the ways you secretly want him to touch you instead. No, you're technically here to maybe talk him into show you at least a little bit. But it doesn't seem like he'll cave in anytime soon, so you sigh out.

"Okay, okay, I'll see you around, I guess." You say, hopping down from the counter before you take a step towards the exit.

"Ah well, I'll drive you home then." He states, and you grow confused as he leans against the counter. "Seeing as my scheduled appointment wants to leave, I have time off." He states, and you skin tingles. "Come on now, before I change my mind." He states, as he walks you outside again, leading you towards his car.

"I didn't mean to turn up so.. I don't know. Sorry." You said, and he gets into the drivers seat, shaking his head.

"I can understand you, trust me." He says, as he starts the engine and drives off. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to get something from my apartment, and then drive to yours." He says, and you tilt your head.

"Why not to the studio, or your place?" You ask, and he nods.

"While those are places I feel comfortable, they're unfamiliar to you. It's best if we start in a place that's comforting and gives you a sense of security." He states, and you nod.

Jungkook, in your eyes, never really seemed as mature as he's acting in those moments. It's as if he switches every time you two change topics; any time this particular one comes up, his mood changing into a serious one. Now, you're not stupid, you know the risks- and of course you had somewhat done your research online about the damages that could occur during all of this. And there's also the not too little chance it really isn't something for you after all- and in a way, that scares you. Because you want jungkook, but what if you don't want.. this?

Instead of voicing that out, you simply keep quiet as he gets out the car, and inside again after fetching what looks like an overnight bag. "You're staying over?" You ask, and he simply throws it on to the backseat.

"Maybe. We'll see." He says, and you don't question him as he drives. "Let's get something to eat. What're you craving?" He asks, as he keeps his attention on the road. He notices how you seem to think, already able to practically see the gears turning inside your head. "Don't think about what I could want. I asked what you want." He says, calmly, and so soft, that you simply let your words out.

"Tae usually get's me food.." You start, and Jungkook nods, as if understanding. You watch him smile a little.

"Let's get some junk food and eat it in the car." He simply states, and you nod, happy that he seemingly really did get what you were trying to say. For you, things like these were almost like rituals- like you and tae getting random icecream just to hurry home every time to not have it melt.

Maybe this would become a memory only for you and Jungkook.

"You're nervous." Jungkook says, speaking out what's obvious. You don't know what he'll do, you're confused whats in his bag- you're nervous, just like he said. "Why is that?" He asks, casually sitting on your bed with you. He had earlier told you not to panic-clean it; he was not there to be impressed. He was simply a visitor for now, nothing more, nothing less. You shrugged. There were a lot of reasons you were nervous. "If you want this to work, I need to have proper communication with you. Guessing will get me nowhere." He says, but his voice is not upset. He's simply informing you.

"I.. don't know what you'll do?" You say, and He smiles, sitting more comfortably, as he shows you his open hands.

"I'm not gonna do anything for the moment." He tells you, and you shrug.

"But wasn't that the plan?" You ask him.

"What would you want me to do then?" He asks instead, not answering your question. He's testing you, he want's to know if you really are aware of everything. He's also not only asking you about what you want him to do to you- but with you, as well. He was unsure if you wanted to romantically involve yourself with him, or simply explore something new at his side.

He's afraid he'd be okay with either, just because its you.

"Are you going to tie me up?" You ask, and Jungkook grins, before he laughs. You're growing shy, unsure, and he instantly makes sure you know he's simply laughing about what you said, not about you. His hand holds yours- and it's weirdly reassuring.

"No, although I can imagine you looking very pretty in that position." He says. "No, come here." He says, lays down on the bed, and you stay where you are, with reasonable distance between you two. "I want you to come as close to me as you feel comfortable. Don't force it- take your time. I'm not expecting anything, please remember that." He tells you calmly, not looking at you to give you mental distance from him as well. His eyes are actually closed, his body relaxed.

You don't move for a moment. You want to test how long he can really play this patient role- but after around five or ten minutes, he's still not moving. He's not even saying anything, and you're unsure if he's asleep or not.

There's only one way to find out.

You carefully lay down a little away from him, on your side, simply looking at him. It's weird to see him like that; you've always imagined him to be a very dominant and demanding person, from what you've heard and seen of him. But Jungkook doesn't feel like any of the guys you've been with; he also doesn't feel like Taehyung, or Yoongi, or Hoseok.. Jungkook, weirdly enough, feels comfortable. He's relaxed, and laid back, and still has that slight glint of power over you.

You move closer, your curiosity getting the best of you as scenes and pictures of him holding you fill your head. Is he even a cuddler? You can't imagine him being all soft and sweet for gestures like that, but then again, you didn't really think you'd ever be in a situation like this either. Maybe you were judging a book by its cover.

He smells nice- that's one of the first things you notice once you get closer. One of his arms is stretched out to the side- his tattooes visible, but partially hidden by his sweater sleeve. You want to look at them, so you test the waters- by touching his arm, just a small poke with your finger. You can see the corners of his lips twitch; he's definitely awake. You move his arm a little, inside facing you as you get a detailed look at his artworks. They're detailed, they fit him, the dark Ink a stark contrast to his skin.

His sweater seems soft.

You slowly lay down again, your head resting on his biceps as you simply lay for a moment.

This is nice.

You feel more and more bold with every minute that passes, not even minding the way he sometimes moves around. You're growing at ease, so much so, that you simply throw all hesitation out of the window, and cuddle up to him. one of your hands is on his chest, while your head rests ontop of the inside of his shoulder.

This is really nice.

"Are you falling asleep?" He asks, voice not loud at all, as his arm moves, palm resting on your forearm as he holds you. You don't mind it- you feel relaxed enough to really actually do fall asleep- so you nod. "That's good." He tells you.

"But didn't you bring stuff to try?" you ask, and Jungkook nods.

"We got time. A small nap is always a good idea." He tells you, and you simply nod- making him smile.

He's glad.

Because by falling asleep on him like that, you don't even know how much you've complimented him at all. You're relaxed enough around him, comfortable enough to let him close to you in a vulnerable state such as sleep. It makes him wonder how far you'd let him go- would you let anyone get so close so quickly? A sudden rush of protectiveness curses through his body, fills him up, as he swears he can't let you go now. No, what if someone else gets you like this? What if someone takes advantage of your open mind like that? He doesn't even want to imagine.

Jungkook really has it bad.

You slowly wake up to a bit of weight on your face. "jungkook what're you doing?" you giggle, and he chuckles as well as he takes the hand away from over your eyes. He looks well rested, with his eyes still not fully open.

"Nothing." He says. "Just teasing." He says, but of course, nothing he does is just random teasing. Everything he does is calculated- it's to test you, to study you, to make sure he gets to know you. "Are you hungry?" He asks instead.

"Not for food."

He has to let that process for a moment, until he laughs. He's really got it with you, he thinks, as he suddenly moves, eyes dark, while he's now ontop of you, his hands holding your wrists. Expecting you to look surprised, he finds none of that however. It intrigues him, the way you don't seem to be nervous or fearful at all. It makes him wonder what you'd really do to him if he was to advance in ways he wanted to. "Careful, sweetheart." He says, and your eyes sparkle with a silent challenge.

"Or what?"

His grip gets a bit tighter at that, eyes a bit darker. "Someone's eager." He says lowly. "Don't you think you're biting off more than you can chew right now?" He asks, before he clicks his tongue, slowly falling into his own headspace. He knows however not to let himself slip. "Give me a random word." He asks, demands, and you say whatever finds your mind in that moment.

"Bunny." You say.

He raises his eyebrow for a second, but doesn't question it. "I want you to say that, loud and clear, as soon as you feel uncomfortable." He lectures you seriously. "It doesn't matter what it is. Physically, or mentally, or if you simply don't want me to continue because. I need you to tell me that you will say it." His gaze is intense, and you nod. "I promise you; I'll never get mad, or upset, or angry, or disappointed with you. My ego isn't worth your safety." He humms out at the end, and your eyes soften.

He notices it instantly, and it affects him more than he'd like to admit.

"I promise I'll say it if I need to." You tell him, and he grows comfortable again.

"Can I touch you?" He asks, softly, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a yes. "Remember; I'll only ever have as much power and control over you as you will give me." He mumbles, head now dipped down to ghost his lips over the skin of your neck. "But once you give it to me-" He says, his knee situating itself in between your legs to spread them in a silent command. "-I won't give it back." He growls, before he bites down, releasing the skin after hearing your delicate mewl, kissing the spot as if to apologize.

He's not sorry.

"Let me ask you.." He says, feeling you rut against his leg that's pressed against your center. "what do you really want from me?" He asks, and you open your eyes, movements slowly coming to a halt as you notice the way he looks at you.

He almost looks uncertain.

"I.." You want him. You know that- you want all of his bad habits and weird quirks. You want to get to know him and everything that comes with it. Hell, he was the main reason you even got into the entire scene in the first place. "You." You say, deciding its best to practice honesty.

"Me?" He asks, genuinely a little confused.

You nod. "Yeah. You." You say. It's a little weird, the whole situation, but you don't mind it. Your hands slowly slip out of his grasp, before they instead intertwine their fingers with his. He feels weirdly caught off guard by the gesture- his past encounters and relationships never having included things like these. So much so, that Jungkook genuinely believed those things to be simple movie-gestures. Overdone, and not realistic. "Like uhm.. if you want to. If you just want to, you know, I.. guess I'd be okay with that too-" You say, looking away, as Jungkook answers.

"I want you too." He answers, eyes searching yours for any glimmer of dishonesty. But he doesn't find it- there is none. There's just you. "I really want you too." He murmurs out, getting closer, before he lets himself loose, his lips finding yours.

He's never been a fan of kissing, but he can very much already imagine kissing you for hours.

Its not just you letting go in that moment, its him too.

Because unbeknownst to you, he's not just opening you a door to his world of unspoken fantasies-

He's also opening his heart as well.

Your first time together is slow and comfortable.

It happens just a day after you had both decided to pursue an actual relationship with one another. He's gentle, careful, but not hesitant. He's exploring.

Inside of his head, he notes down every noise and every twitch of muscle. You sigh as he eats you out, the small ponytail of his unable to hold onto all of his hair as his eyes are partially hidden behind the blonde strands. He's watching you, his fingers having already stretched you out, but then he sits up. You whine, with him having stolen your release for a second time. "Let's play a little, yeah?" He says with an amused yet calm tone. You're already unable to do much about your position; your wrists bound to your bed over your head, carefully tied knots comfortable against your skin, as long as you don't pull. "Legs open." He calls out as you try and close them, and you whine again; testing his patience as you still go ahead and disobey his command. He watches, moves forward, before he pulls them apart again. "You want to cum, no?" He asks, and you nod, frustratedly so. "I wonder what made you think you've earned that reward from me." He tells you, eyes scanning your form as you pull on your restraints a little. He's not fully into his own headspace yet- he's still very much on high alert to notice any signs of discomfort coming from you.

He has to learn just as much as you do.

"You're lucky you're so sweet." He says, before he crawls closer again, his hand on your center, as he enters you with two fingers. Its not enough, but then his thumb draws circles on your clit- and you're approaching, quickly. "Hm? Won't you cum?" And then you say it.

"Can I?"

It's so desperate, so needy, so submissive, that it sends a chill down his spine. He moves closer, kisses your neck, as he can't help but let the rush of it get to him. He is, after all, just as desperate for release. No matter if its his, or yours.

"Such a good girl, of course you can." He tells you. "What a sweet one, such good manners.." He teases playfully, and you tug at your restraints as you come undone under his hands. He unties your wrists and you're holding onto him as soon as you're free, and he lets you hold onto him in your post orgasmic bliss.

Its after a moment that you realize it.

"Wait-" You say, sitting up to look at him. "You- I mean, you didn't get to-" You start, but Jungkook waves it off.

"Its fine, really." He tells you, and you know he's serious. "I'll just wait until it goes down, or take care of it in your bathroom if thats okay with you." He says, patting the side next to him to lay down on. "Come here." He asks, and you comply, before you speak again.

"You.." You start, not looking at him. "Could just take care of it here." You say. "Or I could.." you start, and he looks at you.

"Do you want that, or do you only feel like you have to?" He asks, and you shrug. You take some time, before you answer.

You've seen most of Jungkook until now. From his strong arms, his back, his inked skin, to his thighs and legs. You have seen all- but that. And you've never really considered giving anything back in that way to anyone because of one single embarrassing moment- but with Jungkook, for some reason, you wanted to try.

"I want to." You say, and he nods. "But I don't know how.." You say, and he smiles reassuringly.

"I'll guide you." He tells you, before he scans your face. He's never really felt that desired- at least not in the way he does in that moment with you. "You can take it out for starters." He says, and you nod, before you hesitate a little.

Jungkook is nice, when it comes to that. He's patient, always lets you do the pacing for now, until you trust him enough. This is only the start, after all. You stay cuddled up to his side, but your hand ventures towards his sweats, where you can see his prominent erection still waiting. Slowly, you push the fabric down, both his sweats and boxers underneath- his hips lifting a bit to make it easier for you, until he's freed from his clothes.

You've never really thought much about looks when it came to that department, but Jungkook was, in each and every way, highly attractive. Now you knew, that there was literally nothing about him you didn't desire.

Your first touches are a little hesitant, testing the waters, and Jungkook tries not to react too much to it to give you time. Its when you start to move your hand however, that he closes his eyes, head now completely resting on the pillows beneath as he just decides to enjoy what you might give him. His hips twitch upwards a little after you'd run your thumb over the head, precum glistening while your hand uses it as lubricant to move more smoothly.

He sighs out.

And you grow bold at that, moving to sit up and escape out of his embrace, before you dip down to feed your curiosity. As your tongue touches his skin, his muscles contract, the action not expected since he didn't look what you were doing. You've been told once before that you're not.. the best at this- but Jungkook made you want to try. If you would've looked, you would've spotted the intense stare that Jungkook had been sending your way; mesmerized by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear oh so sweetly, before you let a drop of saliva escape from between your lips, taking him in soon after it had dropped onto his awaiting length.

You really were something else.

He'd gotten head time and time before, and it was never something he didn't like- but he'd also rarely ever cared that much emotionally about the person giving it to him. It's weird, how an emotional connection can make you so much more sensitive to things- such as in that moment, as your tongue moved over his skin while inside your warm mouth, lips heavenly on his cock.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be inside you.

There's nothing he could teach you, nothing he could tell you to do, as you moved, sucked and licked. He was breathing heavily already, his hand finding yours as you hold onto it. He sits up, can't help it, has to somehow touch you while you're not letting go of your task. His palm escapes your hand, rests on your head instead, runs through your hair before it grips a little. You moan, vibrations making him throw his head back as he groans out, feeling his end coming closer. "If you don't want to swallow, let go." He grits out, but you suck harder instead, and its when your hand finds his balls that he lets himself fall back onto the mattress beneath, shooting his load into your mouth as you swallow it down.

He's on cloud nine.

You're thoughtful enough to pull his underwear and pants back up, laying on your stomach next to him, waiting, watching, with impish eyes. He looks so radiant, so relaxed, so at ease. It fills you with a weird sense of pride; since in a way, its your doing. "Why did you tell me you don't know how to do that." He comments, rather than asks, slowly calming his breathing back down. His eyes open, hand pushing some hair out of your face. "Thank you. That was amazing." He says, and you shrug.

"Thanks for the compliment." You say, looking at him.

"I have a request." He says, and you nod. "Not like that." He teases, making you blush. "No, but seriously." Jungkook knows that you've been with other people before. It scares him to know that some of your experiences might not have been good- he knows some absolute horror stories Taehyung had told him. "I want you to take all that you've experienced with your former partners.. all those moments, emotions, bad memories, all of it." He tells you, hand now resting on your cheek- a gesture in which you lean into. "And throw them away. Forget them." He tells you.

"This is a new start, for both of us."

"How many clients have you been with?" You ask, casually sitting on the kitchen counter as Jungkook washes the dishes. Its your first night in his apartment, and you're more comfortable than you thought you'd be.

"None." He tells you, and you're ready to snort out a laugh, but he doesn't look at all like he's joking. Seeing your confusion, he continues while scrubbing a plate. "None of us actually have sex with our clients. Some only come to talk, really- others come to let go." He explains, and you nod. "I've never touched, nor been with someone intimately during a scene." He tells you.

"So you had scenes with your partners then?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"In the beginning, yeah." He admits, shrugging. "But I eventually gave up on it. It's not something a lot of people find very appealing. It all looks great in theory, but when practiced, most find its not for them." Draining the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel, before putting it in its proper place.

"Could you.. imagine a relationship without it?" You ask, and he sighs, shaking his head.

"Not really." He looks at you after a moment. "Its who I am, and its how I love. I can't change that." He tells you, and you nod. Its understandable really, and you like that he has clear lines he likes to follow. It's weirdly comforting to know that he has his life so under control- its all you've ever wanted really.

It's something Jungkook might be able to give you.

It was weird, the feeling of the rope against your skin. He’d been right about it earlier; it wasn’t rough or itchy at all. But maybe that was just because it was him doing it. Maybe he was simply fogging up your senses.

It would make sense.

“Okay?” He humms out, voice gentle and calm while he stops his hands for a moment, palm on your shoulder where it warms up your skin. You’re unsure what okay really means- okay like, he’s finished? Or is he asking if you’re okay? Or is he asking for permission? “Speak to me- don’t just think.” He says, eyes watching you in such a manner that made your slightly trembling body calm down.

“I’m not sure what- what you mean by, okay.” You say, and he smiles, eyes roaming over your body for a moment, but surprisingly not in a way that would make you feel exposed. You’re almost naked, after all- only your most private parts hidden from his sight. You can see the very evident tent in his pants; but he doesn’t seem like he’s frustrated or fazed about it.

“Good Job telling me.” He says first and foremost, and you start to feel warm inside. “I was asking if you were okay. Do you remember your colors?” He asks, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a ‘yes’. He nods again, a hand running over your head, fingers running through your hair affectionately. “Good. I’ll finish the last knots now- remember you can stop at any time. Don’t hesitate.” He says, and you nod.

He grabs the rope again; the tiny fact that he’d chosen one in your favorite color making you feel.. well, you didn’t know. You could feel your nose sting, before it shot into your eyes, making them water; something that Jungkook immediately noticed. “Color?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Green, Green, I’m okay-“ you say, but you can’t stop the tears. He’s quick to sit down in front of you after tying the last knot- and it’s the first time you quietly look at them. They’re so delicate, so well done, but there’s no time to dwell on it as he lifts you chin gently.

“Talk to me.” He says, hands on your shoulders to give you some sense of stability. You’re safe, you don’t feel bad, but just..

“I don’t know. There’s so much-“ you begin, and he softly smiles, as if you’re not currently completely bound with no chance of proper movement. You take a deep breath, holding it before you release again, silently following the advices he’d given you prior. “Why do I feel so.. comfortable? I feel safe even though I’m in such a dangerous situation- I’m.. this is weird isn’t it, I should be.. I don’t know. Why’re you not doing anything? Wasn’t this supposed to be like, a sex session or something I don’t get it-“ you babble, and he lets you, before he speaks.

“You still don’t quite get it, do you?” He asks, and your glistening eyes stare up at him. “I don’t need something as simple as sex to feel satisfied.” He explains, and you nod, even though you don't quite understand. "I feel euphoric right now, even though you probably won't quite believe me." He says, his smile evident as his fingers trace the knots on your skin. It's there that you see it; the glimmer in his eyes, something you've never seen before with someone else. "The fact that you let me do this, it's all I need." He humms out. He looks at you, a silent question, and you take a deep breath.

You don't quite know what you're doing. Its weird- but seeing him like that makes you feel weightless. It happens slowly, you don't quite grasp what it is, but the feeling is nice. It's like letting go- like standing on the highest platform of the universe and just jumping down. And when you open your eyes, all you see is him.

He can't take his eyes off of you.

He's seen it often enough to spot it, knows what it looks like, but it still holds such a deep meaning to him to see you fall into your subspace for the very first time. You're so beautiful like that, so ethereal and enchanting as you lean forward to get closer to him. He's careful you dont accidentally hurt yourself with the big scissors on the bed close by- emergency equipment to release you asap if needed.

He knows escape is the furthest thing on your mind right now.

Able to do anything he'd want with you, he's not like that however. He's responsible enough to let you float for a moment, before he speaks to you again. "Baby?" He asks, and you nod, nuzzling his shoulder as he holds you close. "You're doing so good. Can you do something for me baby?" He questions again, and you nod, not parting from him however before he talks again. "Can you sit straight for a moment? Just like that, good girl." He praises as you instantly follow his command. "I got you, okay? I got you, you're safe." He repeats, as he slowly unties your body. It's careful reassuring and slow movements that make it possible to untie you- too quickly could make you drop; a state of sudden shift in mental state, that could send you straight into distress. Jungkook doesn't ever want to be the cause of that for you.

You're underneath him, and he's careful, as he undresses after placing the scissors onto the bedside table where it cant lead to any accidents. He also reaches inside the table, pulling out a condom from a box safely stored, before he gets himself ready.

Not even for a second is his attention not on you however.

"Hands up baby." He commands, and you do as he wants, already squirming as he advances towards you, fingers stretching you out as you grow huffy at the prospect of being edged again. He's quick to catch on though. "Hm, I'm not gonna be mean baby." He tells your fuzzy mind. "But I gotta get you ready, no?" Fingers steadily helping you relax, he waits until he deems you ready.

You struggle to keep your hands up as he enters you, but your mind is adamant on keeping his command. He groans out, kisses your neck, as he slowly begins to move lazily. It's enough for pleasure- but not enough to make you cum. "Good fucking girl. Look at you. My baby." He chants, and something inside you stirs at the last words.

His Baby.

You're his.

He wants you.

It makes you whine as he chuckles, nipping at your skin. "You can touch me baby, good job." He says, and your hands are instantly around his neck. You're mumbling something, but its not words. It's not coming out the way you think it does, and Jungkook doesn't mind, doesn't care. Its another one of those things fueling him up, urging him on.

You're his perfect puzzle piece.

He lets go.

"Turn around princess." He says breathless, and you follow his instructions eagerly. His hand rests on the back of your neck for a moment, leaves its place for a second to move your hair away from your face, before he gently pushes down. He's inside in a heartbeat, this time thrusting with more strength.

Something overcomes him that hasn't happened before.

Usually, this position is what he loves most- and yet, it's not what he wants. He wants you, he wants you close, he cant touch you enough. His arms snake around your torso, just underneath the bottom of your breasts, as he pulls you towards him. Your back arches so prettily, and he gasps out, breathing heavy as he continues his attack on your neck. "You're mine." He growls out, can't keep it inside anymore, his grip on you tightening. "Mine." His thrusts stutter, his hand reaches for your center, desperate fingers helping you find your release. It coats your thighs, stains the bed, and he pushes himself as deep as he can once he finishes himself.

He's breathing heavily, he's out of his mind, running on autopilot as his hands still hold you. He pulls out after a moment, a whine from you getting reassured by his own voice, before he leaves the bed, getting a warm damp washcloth ready for you. He's careful, gentle, seems to caress your skin more than clean it, places kisses every now and then and sends praises your way.

"How do you feel?" He asks, voice low and caring as he continues his aftercare.

"Like you love me a lot." You sleepily say, eyes still foggy, and he smiles.

"Good." He tells you, reaching out to kiss your lips, still high on his own afterglow. "That's how you're always supposed to feel like."

"I've quit." He tells you one night on the couch, as you sit close to him. You'd asked him about his sidejob at Yoongi's- and this was his answer. Instantly, you sit up straight, fearing that he might've felt obligated because of you. "Before you start, yes, it was because of you." He says, and you already have the whine in your throat- but it doesn't make it out, as his fingers lazily trace your collarbone peaking out from his shirt you're wearing. "But it was also my decision. I just didn't enjoy it anymore- and you're more I could ever want really." He says, shrugging as you stare at him.

It was still new to you.

Although you knew that he was probably more than just a wild loverboy collecting partners and gaming all day, you never would've thought of him like this. He's a kid at heart still, teasing and playfighting every now and then- but he's mostly a strong shoulder to lean on for you. He really is the security and safety you'd always searched for. "What're you thinking about?" He asks, pulling you closer as he continues watching the TV show.

"You." You say, and he chuckles.

"Cute." He answers. He looks at you for a moment, TV long forgotten, before you crawl over his lap, shirt rising enough to give him free view of your thighs and panties. You've skipped the pants tonight- a habit of yours he enjoys a lot. His palms instantly find the soft skin, running along the outside of your thighs before they find your behind, squeezing, before he slaps it playfully. He grins as you squeal, admiring the way the very tips of your ears turn red. "You're really precious, you know that?" He tells you, and you shrug. "You are." He confirms, and you smile shyly.

"May I kiss you?" You ask, and he smiles warmly.

"We're not in a scene baby, do as you wish." He tells you, and you nod, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. Its a feeling you can't quite get enough of, and it seems like he enjoys it equally as much. His inked hands find their way underneath your shirt, running over your back and spine as you shudder. He doesn't find what he seeks, your underwear long gone and left in the bedroom, and he loves it, instantly moves to your chest where he finds the soft flesh, his thumb running over one of your nipples teasingly. You're arching your back already, moving around as if you can't sit still. "My baby." He mumbles out, "If you can be so kind and get me a condom, you can ride me if you want to." He tells you, and you nod.

By now you easily know your way around his apartment.

So its no wonder you quickly return from your now shared bedroom, condom in hand as you approach him again, settling onto his lap. You're not shy with him nor his body anymore, eagerly taking the condom out of the package for him to roll it down onto his length. "You good?" He asks, and you nod, pulling your panties aside as you slowly sink down on him.

He lets his head rest back on the couch, and you lean into him, for a change returning the favor of kissing his neck. He's grinning, throughoutly enjoying things, and you love watching him. It's a visual reminder to yourself that this is your doing. You're making him feel that way, and no one else. It makes you confident, and it makes you feel cherished in ways you haven't felt before.

Once you start to move, Jungkooks hands help you along. Its slow and lazy, not at all hurried. There's no real goal; you probably wouldn't even mind not cumming at all. This was just being close- a way of feeling connected in the most intimate of ways. Connected like only lovers could be.

You love him.

And it slips out as a tiny 'I love you' in between your sighs and gasps, and he hears it so clearly, he can't help himself but speed up the pace.

"I love you too." He chants out, kissing the side of your head as you rest against his chest, head on his shoulder. "I love you so much." He says, almost inaudible, his arms holding you as close as he can.

Jeon Jungkook doesn't need sex to feel satisfied.

But he will most certainly need you for now and forever.

And he's totally fine with that.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. You know the drill. I know where you live. I don't. But still. Be scared. Boo.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Rabbit Boy AU

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westiec · 3 years ago

Text

June 13: T4T Wangxian! 🏳️‍⚧️

genderbend wangxian, no, bendier than that

Read on ao3

When they first meet in high school, Lan Zhan can't stand him; she doesn't like boys as a rule, and Wei Ying is the worst: loud and cocky and flirts with everyone.

Her friend Nie Huaisang goes out with him once and swears up and down that he's pretty cool really, a perfect gentleman on their date. Lan Zhan bites her tongue and asks if he'll be seeing him again, but Nie Huaisang shakes his head.

"There just wasn't much of a spark there, y'know? I'd like to be friends, though, if you wouldn't mind him hanging out with us sometime?" And Nie Huaisang has been her best friend since they were five-year-olds drug to their big brothers' wushu competitions, so...

So that's how Lan Zhan finds herself eating lunch every day of senior year with Nie Huaisang and Wei Ying, Most Awful Boy in School.

It's surprisingly un-awful.

Wei Ying is still loud and cocky, but he is also kind and generous. She'd known he was smart—they'd often competed for the top spot in their classes—but she comes to realize that much of his flirting is honest curiousity about everyone and everything.

Including her.

"Lan Zhan, you should let me set you up on a date! Who do you like? There are lots of girls at this school who have a crush on Lan-jiejie, you know."

She did not know. She tries to tell him she does not need to be set up. Nie Huaisang betrays her and sides with Wei Ying.

Here's the other thing about Nie Huaisang & Wei Ying: they are weirdly good at matchmaking. She knows of at least four couples who started dating on their suggestion.

(They are not good at finding themselves dates, but that's a different story.)

"Hmm... oh! Lan Zhan, do you think you might like Mianmian?"

Lan Zhan goes on the date.

(She and Luo Qingyang date for the rest of senior year and part of that next summer, then break up amicably when they start university in different cities. They remain friends and pen pals.)

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying graduate at the top of their class. She has a little snapshot of them all at graduation, she and Nie Huaisang and Mianmian and Wei Ying and even Wei Ying’s brother Jiang Cheng, all in their hats and baggy gowns, looking proud and happy and ready to take on the world.

There's a lot of world, as it turns out.

People move, they graduate, they get jobs and fall in love and change their number and lose touch.

Sometimes they find out new things about themselves.

"Nonbinary" is a new thing.

Ge is adorkably supportive. Nie Huaisang congratulates them, and Mianmian sends a sweet message. Lan Zhan doesn't really have a conversation about it with Uncle, but the first time they wear a binder and blazer to a family lunch, he just compliments them on their outfit and asks about the new exhibit they've been working on for the museum.

Wei Ying’s messages had started bouncing a few years back, and Lan Zhan mostly manages not to wonder what he'd say.

Lan Zhan cuts their hair and grows it out again, because sometimes you just have to try things to see if they're you.

(Lan Zhan had learned that from Wei Ying.)

They date, a bit, and adopt a pair of rabbits. They find what makes them feel at home in their body.

They love their job and smile inside every time a wide-eyed kid takes in their long braided hair and earrings and makeup and the lean, crisp lines of their work outfits with awe.

They let Nie Huaisang teach them how to dance, and do brunch with Ge and his partners, and they travel, sometimes for work and sometimes for themself.

They visit Mianmian, meet her wife and baby daughter, and travel to see their mother's family, and other times go somewhere they know no one.

It's at a craft market in one such town, looking at handmade jewelry and homemade jams, that Lan Zhan hears a musical laugh they haven't heard in years.

They follow it past booths of landscape photos and hand-thrown pottery and beaded necklaces until they turn a corner to see —

Long glossy hair in a high ponytail. Elegant wrists and lively hands. A flowing skirt that flutters in the spring breeze as the person at this table of what Lan Zhan belatedly realizes is small-batch fruit wines waves goodbye to a happy customer before turning and—

"Wei Ying."

It's undoubtedly Wei Ying's eyes that go wide and surprised. Undoubtedly Wei Ying’s smile that spreads across this lovely face. Undoubtedly Wei Ying who responds, "Lan Zhan! Fancy meeting you here, after all this time."

Lan Zhan can feel a smile in the corners of their own lips.

"Come here, come here, tell me what you're up to these days. You look fantastic, Lan Zhan, have a seat, I want to hear everything that—ah, if you have time?"

Lan Zhan has time. Lan Zhan thinks they would sit at this market stall until dark to keep that smile on Wei Ying’s face.

"I do. Wei Ying, you also look—" beautiful, captivating, happy, alive "—fantastic."

Lan Zhan does not remember Wei Ying blushing like this in school. It's utterly charming.

Lan Zhan sits at Wei Ying’s stall for hours.

("This is more words than you ever said to me back then!")

They catch up. Wei Ying lives and works at a small family farm outside this town. Wei Ying declares Lan Zhan's job as a museum curator "perfect for you!"

They do the pronoun thing.

("It changes? But 'she' today."

"'They,' as a rule; 'she' when it's too..."

"Sure, I get it.")

Eventually, Wei Ying carefully asks if Lan Zhan has kept up with anybody they'd both known.

She's delighted by the news of Luo Qingyang's marriage and child, and thrilled that she and Lan Zhan remain friends. ("I knew you'd like her, Lan Zhan!")

Wei Ying’s face does something complicated when Lan Zhan asks about the Jiangs, so they let her change the subject. There's a little boy on the farm, apparently, who Wei Ying adores.

Wei Ying does not sell very much more wine that day, but she won't hear of Lan Zhan apologizing.

It's not quite dark when Lan Zhan helps Wei Ying pack up the unsold jars, but it is late enough that it's easy to ask her for a recommendation for where to eat dinner, then insist that Lan Zhan treat her to a meal.

It is dark by the time they leave the restaurant.

Lan Zhan goes to bed smiling that night, a new number in their phone under a contact they could never quite bring themself to delete.

Wei Ying has never visited the museum Lan Zhan had come here to see. Lan Zhan barely notices the art, too distracted by the light in her eyes.

The train ride between towns is not long.

Later, under cheerful lanterns strung up at the Wen farm to celebrate Wei Ying's birthday, Lan Zhan mentions they've gotten a position at the museum they visited that first weekend.

Wei Ying's kiss tastes like cherry wine and happiness.

Epilogue thoughts:

Wei Ying's jiejie does her hair at the wedding. Jiang Cheng cries on Nie Huaisang at the reception. Mianmian and Mian's Ma'am and Xiao Mianmian are, of course, all in attendance as well.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying hang a picture of all of them at the wedding in their new house, with an old, faded snapshot tucked in the corner of the frame.

#PrideMonthSnippets Masterpost!

#PrideMonthSnippets #westie writes #wangxian #modern au #trans lan wangji #nonbinary lan wangji #trans wei wuxian #genderfluid wei wuxian #lan zhan #wei ying #notfic

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potteresque-ire · 3 years ago

Text

Commentary ~ Little Red Little Green Episode 18, “Fruits & Found Family”

Link to original post in Chinese, posted 2021/05/23. Link to official English translation.

(Disclaimer / Notes + Commentary under the cut!) (TW: possible eating disorder)

Disclaimer / Notes:

While the posts by Little Red Little Green (LRLG) are among my most favourite candies, I’d like to remind everyone that they are fake rumours, and should be read and enjoyed as such. ie, all CPN below!

The English translation linked above is the only one authorised by the Fake Rumour House; therefore, please treat all content below as a very casual, very *unofficial* convo between fellow turtle friends! ❤️💛💚

With Chinese being a highly region-specific language, my reactions to it is necessarily filtered through my background, which is, admittedly, somewhat removed from Gg’s, Dd’s and LRLG’s. However, it is not uncommon for even c-turtles (and several times, LRLG themselves) to be lost with what they read / heard due to regional differences ~ which reflects the reality of communicating in the Sinosphere. In fact, the regionality of the dialects used by different “characters” in LRLG’s dialogues is among the most critical elements that make these posts so authentic-sounding, and so difficult to replicate. A fun activity of following LRLG is to watch c-turtles patch their regional knowledge together, from local slangs to food choices, to make sense of what’s going on.

Okay, with that all said *phew* ... onto the commentary! “p. X” refers to the panel number in the official English translation (there are 7 total in the Twitter post).

p1. “Fairy”

Likely referring to the similarity between Gg’s current role for 玉骨遥 (The Longest Promise) and LWJ. Dd was praising Gg for being “fairy-like”; Chinese “fairies” (仙) have a certain style especially in visual media, similar to ... LWJ’s ~ otherworldly, white robes that billow in the wind, peaceful to the point of distant, scholarly, delicate. In between the lines, Gg likely said he was simply playing LWJ (hence, the ”act another me” in the translation), which Dd protested... and said Gg was simply playing himself. Whether that means DD IS NOT LWJ!!!!! 😡😡😡 or something else, we’ll know what we get to watch the show!

p1-p2. “Heat”

Yes about the Chang’e 嫦娥 reference!! Despite Houyi 后羿 shooting down 9/10 suns and saving the day, his wife is, indeed, more famous (and therefore the star, the more powerful one), because she’s frequently featured in Mid-Autumn festival art, along with her pet rabbit 玉兔 (”Jade Rabbit”),:

(Chang’e with her bunny, traditional Chinese painting. Source.)

Below is Gg’s rendition of Chang’e / Jade Bunny pair ~ Chang’e being the superman in the drawing while Jade Bunny is crouching on the planet!!

Guess of the missing convo from Gg’s side: Gg had wanted to bring something to Hengdian (where the filming of The Longest Promise was taking place) to cool himself down, and Dd had said it wasn’t necessarily. Hence Dd’s “My bad my bad” and the promise to send that something to Gg.

The loveliest line in this segment for me—and for many c-turtles— is the one about white hair. Turning grey a common, but very old-fashioned way of expressing worry and poor Dd, who hasn’t even turned 24, is claiming he was turning white because he got so worried every time Gg complained about the heat (Aww).

Turning grey with worry isn’t limited to romantic situations — it may happen to doting parents with wayward children, for example, or to ancient patriots over their crumbling kingdom. However, it’s also one of the more (very!) dramatic ways to communicate tragic love in Chinese fiction before Western influence allows “love”, as a term / word / character, to be used explicitly in writing romance.

Here’s a little example, a little diversion that may be of interest. Those who are familiar with the Wuxia classic Return of the Condor Heroes 神雕俠侶 by Jin Yong 金庸, whether it’s the book or its numerous visual adaptations, may remember how the hero, Yang Guo 楊過, went white at his temples overnight after his Shifu and lover, Xiao Long Nv (小龍女), didn’t show up at the cliff at the end of his 16-year wait for her.

Set photo from a TV adaption of Return of the Condor Heroes, 1995. Turtles may find the actress playing the perenially white-wearing, calm-to-the point-of-aloof Xiao Long Nv, Carmen Li 李若彤, familiar ~ she also played Lan Yi in The Untamed.

The 16-year wait, the invitation to Carmen to play Lan Zhan’s ancestor (when the two shared similarities in aesthetics and personality), were two of the three references from Return of the Condor Heroes I picked up from The Untamed (the last one was more specific—WWX mentioned Yang Guo’s master 獨孤求敗). This tribute is unconfirmed, but MXTX did say before that Jin Yong’s works were her inspiration. I also read a (small) discussion on whether LWJ’s hair carried a few pieces of white in the final episode, or if the lighter strands in it were a trick of the sunlight. (Here’s a screenshot of the approximate place to look!!)

While I lean towards the latter (the sunlight), turning white with worry, with love, is a tradition in Chinese storytelling. Here’s a little something I’ve noticed too, on this note ~ both in the actual interviews and in these fake rumours, Dd’s word choices, the way he conveys emotions are sometimes surprisingly traditional. It can be because of his background (which would require a study of how Luo Yang people and Koreans talk); it can be because the traditional way of talking allows for fewer words to be said, fewer things to have to be explicitly explained (example: LWJ), but the effect is that Dd has supplied the most romantic lines in LRLG’s posts because of that ~ romantic because it harks back to the rhythm, the themes of old poetry, of ancient stories that, as were true everywhere in the world, were about love.

Okay, back to the rumour (and hoping Dd won’t look like Bad Wig Yang Guo in a few more summers!) ....

The line after the one about white hair ... the way I understand the original Chinese sentence is “Heat is The Reason”: ie, anything Dd wants Gg to do and Gg disagrees, Gg would use heat as The Reason (R) to not do it. This anything may be eating, for example, which also has a strong possibility as conventional Chinese wisdom says that heat causes people to lose appetite. Dd’s worry would therefore be: Gg refusing to eat because he claims it’s too hot to do so.

“Corny joke” ~ the Chinese for this is, literally, “cold 冷 joke 笑話”, which becomes a pun as the gzry (team members)’s joke was about the (cold) winter and black hair. So... Dd threw a corny joke to combat a corny joke :D .

p3. “Apple”

The first half I also had to rely on c-turtles to help me interpret what it meant! Regional dialects aside, LRLG has captured dls’s very quick wit, the way his ideas freely hop from one concept to the next and this hopping carries traditional + popular cultural references that I know only a fraction of, not being a local after all.

I’ve read an additional interpretation of this segment: “big fruit” 大果兒 (as in dls: “Those are all big fruits, all big fruits”) is a Northern Chinese, traditional slang for women—dls might have connected that with the previous line in the convo about being Guowang, as explained in the translation, and “big and juicy” + “touch to feel” being suggestive phrases. Then, given the rare usage of the big fruit = women slang, dls expressed surprise that Dd understood what he meant, went on to say he expected Gg to know it (implying Gg could’ve taught Dd the meaning) ...

Which led to the entertaining part of this segment. Dd was like “You guys (= Gg + dls) talked?” Dls appeared to have thought of the scenario customarily inviting this question (scenario: someone on the verge of catching their spouse cheating) and began playacting that scenario, started to stammer ... as if he had just been got caught trying to chat up someone’s spouse ~ ”I-I-I....how to say it ...”. Dd caught on dls’s playacting and went along, continued with the “accusation”: “You’re stammering”. Dls then noted that Dd’s accusation was scary and Dd smiled, ending the playact ~ so, ah, readers, never mess with Dd’s spouse!! Dd gets scary!!

(BTW: ”nijia na kouzi” 你家那口子 was explained in the translation for a reason ~ It’s a warm, friendly term for a dear friend’s spouse. 😊)

p4. Lychees

Lychees. Has everyone tried them? It’s important not to over-eat them though...

In which the “Feeding Gg” saga continues! This segment is one of those that are wonderful for fic writers who wish to capture Gg and Dd in words. Gg, like many brought up in traditional families, has trouble saying “no” outright, which is often considered rude. As such, he resorted to delay tactics, something he had also done with the fried noodles in The Makeup Room BTS.

In the BTS, his delay tactics had been to argue that Dd hadn’t eaten his box of noodles and therefore, he couldn’t start (~2:35 mark)—as proper manners indeed dictated. In this dialogue, his delay tactics was to say he’d eat the lychees later, that the lychees would make him too full for the proper meal (rice).

A cute thing about this convo is that rather than pouting and grumbling his only being LWJ’s replacement (as he had hilariously done in the BTS), Dd had, apparently over the last three years, become an expert on countering such delay tactics. He peeled the lychees, which not only removed a major obstacle for eating, but also set a timer as peeled lychees get dry quickly (and Gg, despite being a picky eater, didn’t seem to like to waste food). He said the fruit could make appetiser. He got the help of their team members, who assured Gg that two lychees would be all right.

Gg’s response to the assurance... takes a little time to explain.

The original Chinese line for “Great, great, you’re so awesome” was 絕了絕了你們絕了。 “絕了”, a popular phrase used by Chinese netizens, was repeated three times.

絕, literally, means the extreme, the absolute, the end. 絕了 means pretty much the same ~ a thing that is 絕了 is standing en pointe at the edge of the cliff that is The Absolute End of a spectrum. It is the Ultimate. It can't be surpassed. It’s unbeatable.

絕了 is usually used in a positive sense, as in the English translation, with the positive being implied. If I say the LWJ photo above is 絕了, for example, I don’t need to specify that the extreme in 絕 stands on the good end. It’s understood given the audience of this post are mostly turtles (HELLO *waves*). We’re all heart-eyes here. We agree, without saying, that this photo is The Top, The Pinnacle; it can’t be better. 絕了 is higher praise than Excellent; it’s so good that there are no adjectives for it. Its own presence defines How Good It Is.

But 絕了 doesn’t have to be positive. If my audience is Su She ... he’s likely to take the same “This LWJ photo is 絕了” to mean the Mariana Trench kind of Absolute—the bottom of the bottom, the Unbeatable, Adjective-Defying Worst.

絕了 allows for that understanding too.

In this scenario, I interpret Gg’s 絕了 as taking the meaning of both extremes (which make it a fantastic phrase choice!): that Gg thought Dd and the team members were being both the Absolute Best (for thinking of Gg, caring for him) AND the Absolute Worst (for going against his wish to not eat!) Gg’s 絕了 also signals defeat; if Dd and his team members were The Absolute ... Whatever, then poor Gg had no choice but to yield to their wishes. I can already imagine his “I can’t believe I lose this way” Look (see: every rock-paper-scissors he lost, which was ... pretty much all of them), mixed with, perhaps, a healthy amount of bunny tooth warning (how dare Dd et al banded up against him)...

Those bunny teeth had to be taken care of, right? And so Dd went on to say lychees being good omen that ensure things would go smoothly for the eater... targeting Gg’s being a, as c-turtles call it, 小迷信 (literally, “Little Superstitious”, a young + adorable + superstitious person). Dd said that to help Gg justify the choice to eat, to make Gg feel better about his defeat.

(Of note: I had actually never heard of lychees being associated with good luck before, and a quick search online also didn’t yield any result. This could be a relatively rare association Google failed to catch ... or something Dd made up on the fly to make Gg happy.)

(Lychees have, however, been associated with romance. If Emperor’s Smile 天子笑 was The Love Drink in The Untamed, then what is Concubine’s Smile 妃子笑? Answer: it’s the RL name of a type of lychees, lychees being the fruit very much adored by Yang Yuhuan 楊玉環, the consort of the Emperor Xuanzong (685-762 BCE) of the Tang Dynasty and one of the four most beautiful woman in Chinese history. Since lychees had only been grown in southern China, the emperor had had the fruit couriered, in express mode involving many horses, to the palace up north to please his favourite wife. Lychees had become a symbol of love from that historical tale.)

Did Gg get Dd’s message then, the love and care packaged in those peeled, sweet fruit awaiting his bite? Yes, but not without a little more fight! “Eat eat eat, (I’ll eat) until you go bankrupt” is a literal translation of his final line. Tonally, I can see the following as being an alternative translation:

“Fine fine fine. I’ll eat, it’s not like I can bankrupt you by eating anyway!”

If it sounded a little sulky, that’s because it did ... a little sulky AND fiery. As expected from our favourite Chongqing Big Pepper 😂😂😂 (Poor Gg).

Dd smiled at that, needless to say. He won!!! He got Gg to eat!! The world shall rejoice!!

p5. “Showtime”

There’s a show coming up for Dd (the YH concert maybe?), and Gg offered suggestions.

The sweet point of this segment is about half-way down the conversation, in the piece of paper 📄 Gg gave to Dd (after “This is for you.”). Dd took the paper, noted the many words on it, and started saying 我把我整個靈魂, translated as “I bring my entire soul”.

c-Turtles have, based on these words, hypothesised that Dd was about to read out a quote that Gg had written on the paper, with the list of items Gg thought Dd should take, before Gg stopped him with a call of his name (“WYB”). The quote was included on the translation (”I give you my entire soul...only, a little good, love you.”) I have also talked about the same quote, in more detail, here.

I’m equally stumped on the final line of this segment. (Sorry!!)

p6. “Found Family”

It’s a heartwarming segment. While LRLG had previously noted that the TTXS bros had communicated with Gg, this segment made clear that they care for him like they do for Dd ~ as family.

* dls mailed Gg a lot of fruit for sharing with the film crew. “Family member needs to be impressive” is a rough translation, but this line does defy simple translation because 排面 a highly cultural concept that has much to do with the equally complex, Chinese concept of face (which this article explains... somewhat adequately). The message to take home is that dls cared enough about Gg that he wanted to make sure Gg wouldn’t lose face in front of the film crew; that, by having enough gifts (fruits) for everyone, Gg wouldn’t be viewed as cheap or inadequate or stingy, or whatever adjective that wouldn’t befit his top idol status. Because dls saw Gg as a member of his family.

* The prescription from hg had been mentioned in a previous LRLG rumour. 方子 is a Chinese medicine prescription, which, unlike Western formulations, is individualised both to the discomfort / ailment and to the “body constitution” of the person who'll take it, the latter deciding the kind of ailments the person is susceptible to, and which ingredients are expected to be more effective. Chinese medicine also places a strong emphasises on long-term conditioning, whether it’s for recovery from a certain condition or for general good health. A good 方子 is therefore a far more complex and personal thing than, say, a scribble of “paracetamol” / “acetaminophen” on a piece of paper. :D

* fg’s gift for Gg (xx) is something for the waist. A brace support, maybe? For example?

My favourite line in this segment is when hg asked what will Gg and Dd do when they reach hg’s age. Given that the last two items (the prescription and xx) were health-related, I interpreted it as hg worrying about Gg and Dd’s health when they grow old... with all the health problems they already have. It’s the kind of thing a worried parent say to their children ~ my mom has said the same thing to me as well. 😢

p6. “The Cat Paw”

Not quite sure what’s happening here ... not sure what the cat paw is. (Sorry!!) But that é in the translation is Dd’s signature laugh (collection here), which is written as 鵝 (”Goose”) in Chinese 😂.

p7. “The Cat Toy”

Dd appeared to be shopping for a cat’s toy (something that can “hook the cat” in the translation, such that the cat can entertain itself and not rely on human companionship as much). Gg had already bought the toy though and sounded quite proud of it, told Dd to return the toy. The implied cat was, of course, Nut (堅果 Jianguo)... which had been repeatedly referred to in LRLG’s posts as Gg’s daughter.

p7. “Cool vs Cute”

Gg is often viewed as cute, and Dd as cool. Did Dd dislike Gg taking cute pictures for public consumption? Were they scheming an exchange of image? :D

And that’s it for this issue! Ooh, this took unexpectedly long ... I apologise for the ridiculous delay between the original post and this commentary!

(I wrote half of it, then RL struck and I forgot about it.) (I’m hopeless.) (I need a 方子 for poor memory!!)

#pie eats candies #pie metas #yizhan #bjyx #LRLG

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years ago

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Into The Unknown, Part 10

First

Grocery store trips were weird. Tim had never taken them before, and now here he was buying food for the three of them regularly. He’d thought it would be harder, for some reason. But, no, it was just boring.

Tim rolled his eyes as Damian pointed to the nearest brightly colored object -- a bag of Not Cheetos… holy shit they were called Fritos this wasn’t allowed he has never been so vehemently against anything in his life.

He sighed as the baby yelled at him for the bag. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have gone in the chip aisle.

He looked down at the kid in front of him with an apologetic smile.

“No, kiddo. See, I would love to get that for you but, unfortunately, Mari said I can’t buy you any more random sweets. Blame her, not me.”

Damian was, apparently, too smart for his tricks because he banged his fist on the front of the cart and babbled at him angrily.

Tim sighed and leaned forward until his forehead touched the cool metal of the cart, thinking.

And then he got back up and handed the kid the bag of chips. Damian didn't know that it was food, Tim was pretty sure, and he had nothing against… ‘Fritos’ (outside of their name, obviously). So, why not? He could eat them. It was better than dealing with a tantrum in the middle of a store, at least.

Damian lit up and hugged the bag to his chest as if it was a soft stuffed animal and not a plastic bag filled with air and maybe a few chips.

Tim smiled faintly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head and then continued on his way, scanning over the list idly.

Oh. Marinette had added something. He squinted down at her messy scrawl, bringing it close to his face as if he could will the words to make sense.

And it worked. Ha. Take that everyone who didn’t believe in him.

Okay. So, she needed ‘pads’.

Sure. No problem.

He walked over to the aisle.

Hm. Okay. There might be a tiny little problem.

Why were there so many different brands? And sizes?

He stared around at them all helplessly. Sure, he had glimpsed the box a few times but he certainly hadn’t paid it much mind -- it wasn’t for him, why would he?! But now he was standing in an entire aisle full of products and there were way too many of them. And why did they all look the same? Shit!

He looked at Damian, who was biting the edge of the chip bag and giggling about the crinkling noises it made. But, once Tim turned his gaze on him, he looked up at him with wide eyes, attentive.

“Any chance you know what type Mari uses?” Tim joked softly.

Damian popped off the chip bag so he could babble at him. It was very helpful.

He considered, very briefly, just standing there in the aisle with the same helpless expression until some kind-hearted person took pity on him and he could avoid the embarrassment of calling Marinette at work to ask what types of pads she used… but, no, the idea of asking some random person for help was way worse. He had to just suck it up and do it.

He pulled out his phone and called Marinette. He was pretty sure it was lunchtime for her, anyways.

She picked up within a few rings, voice slightly muffled as she answered with a simple: “Problem?”

Tim didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or amused that her first thought when he called her was that something was wrong.

But he quickly alleviated her fears: “No, everything’s fine.”

He could hear the phone shift slightly as she assumedly went back to eating. “Right, then what is it?”

“Nothing bad, really…” Tim started awkwardly. His face reddened without his permission. “Just wanted to know what brand you used for, um, hygiene products.”

“... hyg --? Oh.” He heard her laugh at him and his face only reddened further. “What, the world's greatest detective couldn’t figure it out?”

“That’s my dad!” He mumbled a little huffily.

She snickered a little longer before finally saying: “I think the brand is called ‘Forever’ here.”

“See! You don’t even know!” He said even as he pulled down a box with the word written across it in elegant script.

“That’s because the name changed when --...” She seemed to remember she was at work -- or, at least, that there were other people around -- because she cut herself off suddenly before she could admit to being a dimension hopper in a world that likely wouldn’t even believe in the multiverse. “When… I switched brands! Yeah. Heh.”

(Tim swore he heard her mumble ‘technically not even a lie’ but he wasn’t quite sure.)

He started to put it in the basket but then he paused.

“There’s a lot of sizes.”

“Um… I think a four?”

“Yeah, no, they have letters here.”

“Fuck, right, hate that, um… D, I guess.”

He switched out the Cs he had gotten and smiled as Damian reached for him. He clearly wanted out of the cart -- Tim wondered, vaguely, if it was uncomfortable -- but that wasn’t going to happen so he decided to distract him:

“Want to talk to Mari, kiddo?”

The kid blinked up at him a few times before lighting up. “Mar-ree!”

He pressed the phone to Damian’s ear with one hand until the kid took it himself and then motioned for him to go ahead. “Takalam maeaha.”

“... marhaba?” Damian said, giving Tim a look that seemed to scream ‘you’re weird for making me talk into a box’.

Marinette must have said something back, because the kid’s eyes went wide. Damian looked around wildly for a few moments, clearly trying to figure out where Marinette was, before he realized that her voice was coming from the box. He gasped a little and pressed the phone against his ear even harder and started to ‘talk’ to her. It was a weird mix of Arabic and a few English syllables thrown together haphazardly, Tim was just glad he was learning.

Tim started on his way through the store again, sure he wasn’t going to get his phone back anytime soon.

He’d gotten all the necessities and they had money left in the weekly budget...

He headed to the kid’s aisle, head tipping from side to side as he considered what to get. Maybe a new book? Damian had taken a liking to them, though Tim was pretty sure that was more because he thought the English language sounded kind of funny rather than any real passion for stories.

He picked up a book about letters and looked down at Damian. He sounded annoyed now.

He looked at Tim with an annoyed expression and shook Tim’s poor phones a few times. “Mar-ree!”

Ah. She must have hung up because her break was over.

How was he supposed to explain how phones worked to a baby? Especially since he knew phones so intimately thanks to his time working on the model he was using.

He gently pulled the phone from the kid’s hands. “Mari’s at work. You can see her later.”

“Bu…” Damian pouted.

Damn it. How dare the kid be cute? Tim was about five seconds away from walking to Marinette’s job so the kid would smile again.

He hesitated before reaching behind himself and grabbing the first soft thing his hands landed on. He pulled it out and squinted at the stuffed cat. It was cute, he supposed, but he didn’t know why it was rainbow-colored.

Whatever.

He offered the plush to Damian and the kid seemed to instantly forget about the phone.

(And the chips. But the kid had put it in his mouth so it looked like Tim was buying that anyway.)

He pressed a kid to the top of his head and then continued on his way.

… and that was when he heard it:

Haha, someone got called a DILF.

… wait a minute… he was the only person with a kid around here…

His head whipped around so fast he would have gotten whiplash if he was old -- which he wasn’t -- to see two girls in their mid teens. And they were definitely looking at him. They even tried to hide behind the next aisle in order to avoid his gaze once they realized he had heard them.

Tim didn’t know what to do about this. Someone had actually called him...

He was 19! He couldn’t be that yet! How?! No!

And, sure, the logical part of him knew they were technically right. He was attractive (he hoped) and, when it came to the ‘dad’ thing… if Damian never got his memories back, then Tim would pretty much be the only dad that he had ever known. He would be a dad.

But, again, he was 19-years-old, he didn’t want to think about this.

So, to ward off the impending crisis, he looked around the aisle he was in wildly for some kind of ‘kid’ thing.

He found some marshmallow guns and grabbed two. Then he got some marshmallows because those weren’t included for some reason. Whatever.

He looked down at the basket, aware that he was now over budget, and eventually decided to put back the book. Who needs to learn?

(Besides, if Damian really wanted to just hear people talk, Tim could totally do that. He had so many random facts in his head thanks to random rabbit holes he had gone down while sleep-deprived, he could just rant about those if the kid wanted.)

So, he checked out, loaded up with all the bags and the baby, and started walking home.

… he was totally going to learn to drive. Even if Gotham streets were safer -- especially when he had a baby on him -- it was a pain to carry all the groceries even the few blocks to their apartment. Literally. The bags dug into his skin. He swore he could taste blood.

But he had an end goal in sight, so he went faster than usual that day.

He set up the guns, leaving Marinette’s on the kitchen table and then took a seat on the couch with Damian. They spent the few remaining hours playing games (Tim was pretty sure, he had absolutely no clue what Damian was saying but the kid seemed to have fun and that was all that mattered) and watching TV.

Tim heard his door click and looked up.

He quickly reached for the marshmallow gun and turned to point it at the door.

Damian watched him in silence, perfectly still as if he understood that this was something that they needed to be quiet for.

Usually, this kind of worried Tim. They always gave Damian to Kaalki and Tikki when they sparred, but Damian had always been… shockingly well-behaved? Not in the good way, either, he was far too still and quiet. Tim was starting to suspect that, at the very least, the kid remembered the first year of his life in the League. He hoped that the trauma would fade away with time. Kids forget things that they experienced as babies when they grew older, Tim himself couldn’t remember anything from before he was three, so hopefully this would be the same.

… but he really wanted to get Marinette with a marshmallow gun. So, he swallowed down the slight bit of anxiety rising in his chest and looked through the scope as Marinette finally managed to open the finicky door.

Damian’s eyes widened and he made a quiet ‘ah!’ sound.

Tim jumped at the sudden sound and pulled the trigger. The marshmallow gun made a fmpf sound as it fired off the shot.

The marshmallow bounced off of Marinette’s forehead harmlessly. Because, y’know, it was a marshmallow.

She blinked a few times and then knelt down to pick up the fallen marshmallow. She scanned it over a few times, eyes narrowed.

Tim hardly paid attention to her, looking over at Damian. The kid looked very confused, eyes darting between the gun and Marinette and the marshmallow on the floor repeatedly as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

And then he flopped back on the sofa with a quiet whimpering sound.

Marinette and Tim frowned at each other. He could see confusion and concern knitting her eyebrows together, meanwhile all he had was dread coiling itself in his gut. Because… what if Damian did remember his first year with the League? Or, even worse, what if he would slowly regain all his memories? No kid deserved that...

Tim felt something hit the side of his head, snapping him out of his daze. Oh. Marinette had grabbed the other gun and promptly gotten her revenge.

Damian didn’t see this, at least, just staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Marinette sat on Damian’s other side, gently picking him up and nuzzling her nose against his cheek. Then, she sat him back down between them, sidling close so the kid could curl into her side. Tim, after a few seconds, scooted closer as well.

“Want some marshmallows? They’re yummy,” she tried hesitantly.

She shot one into her hand and, after tearing it in half just in case, handed it to Damian.

The kid took a hesitant bite, still looking a little put out, but then he gasped a little. He happily chewed away at the marshmallow, the event easily wiped from his mind in favor of the yummy thing in his hand.

Tim sighed in relief, reaching behind himself for the marshmallow bag so they wouldn’t have to shoot any more. Just in case.

“Quick thinking,” he said, which was kind of a compliment if you squinted.

She smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s what I’m known for.”

There was a few seconds before she sighed just a little, gently combing her fingers through Damian’s hair. The kid reached out and gripped Tim’s shirt in his hand, surely getting it messed up thanks to the marshmallow on his hands but whatever, and tried to tug him closer. He obliged. Marinette rested her head on his shoulder absently.

“What would I do without you?” He mused.

“Probably starve on the streets,” she said bluntly.

He scoffed a little. “The minute this kid goes to sleep I’m going to shoot another marshmallow at you.”

“You can try. Only reason you even got me last time was ‘cause I didn’t know you were going to do it.”

“The element of surprise is a totally valid tactic!” He pretended to whine.

She grinned at him. “But it won’t work again.”

He wrapped an arm around her lazily. “We’ll see.”

~~~~~

@unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

#pads..... of paper??#nearly made tim go #do with this information what you will #into the unknown #maribat #tim drake #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #red robin #timari #timmari #timinette #shutterbug

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grogusmum · 3 years ago

Text

In Which, Dad and Me Have Ice Cream For The First Time and Survive Brain Freeze.

A Galaxy Far Far Away Short, As told by Grogu Djarin

NOTE: Feeling silly this morning! So I thought I'd try writing a little something from Grogus point of view. This is part of the A Galaxy Far Far Away AU. (Quick and probably a bit messy in the edit department)

WARNINGS: all about eating

🍨🍦🍨🍦🍨🍦🍨🍦🍨🍦

I love food.

When Dad and me came to Earth, I had no idea how great the eating would be.

I like lots of things about Earth so far, it smells good in the woods and at your house. And there are so many fluffy friends, some of them let me eat their eggs. They don't mind at all!! Tabitha and Willow sleep with me and keep me very warm, but sometimes their tails and whiskers tickle my nose. I want to ride Seamus like a Blurrg, but we haven't discussed it yet. You are nice and shine with a purplie-pinkish aura. And you talk a lot, and then say sorry about talking a lot, but it's okay! Dad's yellow and gold aura glows extra bright sometimes when you do this. You also sing and make me and Dad feel good and warm. Best of all, you make lots of yummy food!

Anyways, right after my nap... that I didn't really need that much, but you tricked me to sleep by rocking me and singing that pretty song about rainbows... you and Dad came into the room to get me. You had a big smile, your eyes were happy, and said we were all going to have ice cream, and that it is the most yummy thing in the universe. Well, I figured you had obviously not eaten frogs yet so...

Dad and your energies was kind of big at that moment, they bounced off of each other like the two wanted to mix but as soon as they touched, they would pull back, like little shocks... I know what shocks feel like because Dad thought I was an electrical engineer once.

ANYWAYS, I sat in my seat, which is great, I get to be right up to the table like the big people. I tucked Long Ears next to me in my seat. You call her Rabbit, but she told me her name is really Long Ears...

You went over to the cooler that has lots and lots of food and opened one of the doors and pulled out a container. And said there were lots of flavors and ways to eat ice cream, but we'd start simple.

You took three bowls down from a shelf then opened a drawer to pull out three spoons and one big one.

I couldn't help getting excited, you had been so scared earlier today, but you seemed so much happier now. Ice creams must really be good!

I watched carefully as you scooped the white stuff with brown swirls, using the big round spoon. You filled each bowl, the ice cream looked like little balls. You told us that it is very cold, "so go slow".

You put the bowl and spoon in front of me and handed one to Dad, so he could take off his helmet in the other room. I wish we could all eat together. Then you sat with me at the table, watching.

You smiled and told me to try it. I picked up my spoon and scooped up a little and tasted it. It was so creamy and sweet and definitely cold. I could hear dad making quiet yummy sounds too, these ears aren't just for looks, you know! And, as usual, Dad maked an understatement.

"It's- this is very good."

I shake my head at that guy sometimes! And as usual I needed to clarify that it was more than very good and started telling everyone so, but you know, language barrier. So I waved my spoon and couldn't help but laugh, because it is so so yummy! I could hear dad laugh, so I knew he was getting me. You laughed too, and said you knew we'd love it. You were right, I do !!!

But that is when I forgot your warning! I couldn't help digging in for my next bite...

The same thing must have happened to dad because we both cried out. It was a sharp pain in my forehead! Why would food do this to me?

You made both a sorry face and I might laugh face! Ma'am, this is serious! Food is hurting me!

You told us it is brain freeze. And APPARENTLY, it happens when you eat ice cream too fast. Then you said to put our thumbs on the roof of our mouths- quick! and you said sorry.

I put my thumb in my mouth like you said, pressed it to the roof. It worked. You then stroked my ear. Which is nice. And you asked if it felt better. Which it did.

Dad did a chuckle and said you did warned us, which is true. I nodded! I want to try all the other ways to eat it but I will never ever forget to go slow with ice cream again...

ALL

@its--fandom--darling @seasonschange-butpeopledont @jessie-writes-things @pedro4ever @oloreaa

AGFFA

@darthmama1618 @artemiswastaken @persie33 @yourneighborhooddisaster @janebby @terecord

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian #clan of two #baby yoda #soft din #a galaxy far far away #grogu djarin #grogu pov

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angelamajiki · 4 years ago

Text

PARINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x Prostitute! Female! Reader

CW: yandere, noncon, degradation, choking, somno? somno, prostitutes, unprepared sex, shigaraki has a FAT crush on mirko and decided he needed to take it out on you

AN: my first shiggy fic! please mind the tags and enjoy <3

For @tomurasprincess Shigaraki Birthday Celebration Collab! enjoy bb <33

Turning 21 and still being a virgin? It was pathetic, really. His birthday was not something he was used to celebrating; there were more important things for him to divert his attention to than a petty holiday. It was just another part of society that needed to be eliminated.

But, damn it all, if Dabi wouldn’t stop pestering him about “letting off steam” down on some street corner.

“I already told you, I don’t want some cheap hooker that’s gonna squeal on us.” Tomura sighed, scratching at his neck with a frustrated vigor. “Take Giran with you if you’re that desperate. Hell, Twice might even go too.”

But Dabi didn’t budge. “I’m not doing this for me, boss. It’ll be good to stop being so pent up and pissy.”

His grin was wide and toothy. Tch, of course, this was some kind of game to him. The bastard probably wanted to see how long he would last his first time, which even he knew wouldn’t be too long. Not that he would admit that out loud, least of all to the man sitting across from him at the bar.

“I am not pent up and pissy. I’ll go as long as you’re the one paying.”

“No sweat off my back, boss. I'll take you somewhere nice. Kurogiri said it's where your old man used to go to relax.”

———

The man wasn't lying when he said the place was nice. It was too nice. Made is his skin crawl to see so much money being thrown around so carelessly. They were all disgusting, sniveling pigs who would all bow to him one day, so he paid them no mind as they passed the whores around as quick as they would a used napkin.

“See, told ya I was takin’ you somewhere nice. So pick someone you like and a room to, uh, get to know them in. I'm off.” With that, Dabi stalked off to find his own kill for the night.

But how could Tomura choose just one? There were so many choices. Women, men, those who blurred the gender lines, mutants, both pretty and ugly. But hey, everyone’s got a fetish nowadays. The elaborate costumes and lingerie they wore meant nothing to him; it would just get in the way.

His eyes scanned the room before he did a double-take over the hero section. Heroes were popular, but Christ, would people be so depraved and desperate they would pay to stick themselves in a fake one just to bust? Apparently he was one of those people tonight. When he saw those bunny ears and that bodysuit, Tomura Shigaraki was done for.

A pink flush dusted his cheeks as he approved the vixen, the imitation of the woman of his dreams, more specifically, you dressed in a Mirko cosplay, tail and all. It was naturally unrequited feelings, but damn if his cock didn't get hard at the sight of Rumi viciously tearing through villains like they weren’t even human. She would make a fine one herself. Ah, but only in his fantasies. Or so he thought until tonight.

Lanky, bone dry fingers make their way around your wrist to yank you up out of your seat. Your eyelash had bat up at him as he had walked over, his attraction towards you was obvious. But he wasn't here to play games, so your coquettish flirting did nothing but make him cringe.

“Come on, little bunny.” He tugged you along to a private room. “We’re going to play together.”

Tomura was undoubtedly more excited than when he first entered the brothel. He sat down on the room's velvet couch and spread his legs, patting his bony left thigh.

“Sit. I don't like to repeat myself, so don't make me.”

You sauntered over to him, giving a slow walk to build than anticipation, but he wasn't feeling patient tonight. Tch, hero slut thinking you impress him? You were nothing but a hole for him to corrupt.

Four fingers brought you to his lap roughly, migrating to your neck for good measure.

“Do you know who I am, Mirko?”

Was he delusional? Not really.

Possibly.

Definitely.

But that wasn't the issue at hand.

A meek “no, sir” stuttered out from your bulging eyes and reddened face as he squeezed with bitterness he didn't know he had.

“No? The number five doesn't know who I am?”

It was true then, he was just scum under her shoes. Who was he kidding? That damn rabbit bitch would kill him without a second thought.

“You think you’re so high and might don't you, hero?” He sneered venomously, tightening his grip while your arms weakly hit him. Good, he liked a challenge. “Looks like you need to be put in your place, bunny bitch.”

Your thrashing did nothing to quell his frustrated growls and huffs as he pulled the thong of the cheap bodysuit to the side—no point in disintegrating the whole thing. God, he couldn't wait to get his cock stuffed to the hilt inside you. His hard cock sprung free from his sweatpants as he pulled up the hood to his black sweatshirt.

The scene was already set in his head, a camera pointed directly at her as he corrupted her hero pussy for all of Japan to see what a whore their number five was. Unfortunately, you would have to do, alone with him in the dank room of the brothel.

God, you were just ruining everything weren't you? You hardly looked like her at all, especially with all that crying and squealing. She would never be so pathetic.

“Shut the fuck up; I’ll give you something to cry about.”

With that, he sheathed himself inside of your unprepared pussy. Oh fuck, did your walls clamp down on him perfectly. At least you were good for something.

Tomura wanted it to hurt, relishing in the screams you let out as he inched his way into your resistant cunt.

“Yeah, that's right. Scream for my cock. It's stretching you out nice and good, isn't it?”

He only got a sob as a response.

“I asked you a question, bitch.”

Ah, an enthusiastic yes. Maybe you weren't such a bad substitute after all. Heavy balls pressed snuggly against your skin as he fought the urge to cum so soon after violating you. The thought of one day being balls deep in Mirko almost sent him over the edge, but looking at your tear-stricken, choked-out expression lulled him back. Ugh, that definitely would keep him busting on the spot.

His pace was brutal as he snapped his hips into yours, snarling and growling all the way.

“You think you're too good for me, Rumi? Think you're hot shit? You're nothing but a breeding bunny for me.”

Your cunt felt heavenly clenching around him, he noticed that the harder he choked you, you squeezed his coco tighter. He quite liked the sound of your crying and pleading for him to stop, it was almost cute. Keyword being almost.

Now he's not one for pain, but damn if they sting on his thighs from slapping against your skin didn't feel just incredible. He has a fleeting thought to wonder how you're feeling, but he supposed it didn’t matter all that much. It was your job to please him, right?

“Cum on this fucking villain cock, Rumi. Show the world you're nothing more than a villain’s whore.”

It was his turn to cry, more so out of frustration as he used your body like a fleshlight, pounding into your now wet cunt mercilessly. God, if this didn't hurt knowing he'd never have her. But you seemed to do the job just fine.

The tail on the back of your bodysuit was bouncing and jumping with his thrust. What he would give just to be able to grab the real thing and hear her squeals of Tomura, more, more!

At some point, you had lost consciousness, and he couldn't find it in himself to care as he continued to chase his pleasure. He moaned louder and bolder now that you were out cold, hell, he even whined a few times. Not that anyone was around, or awake, to hear him.

He couldn't help but sob as he creamed your unresponsive cunt, hunching over your limp body and nuzzling his face into the faux ears you wore. Tomura could imagine how soft the real deal would be as they talked after, saying everything and nothing all at once.

Although it seemed it would be nothing as you were still limp and flushed under his arms. At least you were breathing and had a pulse.

Cleaning himself up, he stuffed a couple of dirty dollars into your still dripping cunt and stalked out of the room.

He’d definitely come back for round two.

#yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero x reader #yandere x reader #yandere

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yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( VELVETEEN RABBIT. )

What do you get when you mix Thumper and Bambi? Answer: Jeon Jungkook.

pairing. french lop bunny!jjk x ragdoll cat f!reader.

genre + rating. hybrid!au set in college. super fluffy, a little angsty, with a dash of smut to balance it all out. explicit towards the end because i just can’t help myself. oops.

tags / warnings. honestly, this jungkook should just come with his own warning. but more realistically, mentions of kook using a scrunchie, kook being cute, kook railing his date after using the world’s worst puns... the usual.

wc. 4.4k

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif as always become, c’mon. i’m me. she’s her.

author note. this was written as part of @thebtswritersclub‘s a hybrid fest and is gloriously late (i’m so sorry @ditttiii). i’ve never written anything hybrid-related before so hopefully you enjoy. feedback goes a long way! xoxo

He orders the same thing every time he’s in. Iced Americano, no room for cream, and a single almond croissant. (Every once in a while, he switches it up for matcha but that’s exceedingly rare.) He always pays with a tap of his wrist - a sleek black AppleWatch with rubber band - and flashes his trademark slightly too-big smile. All the girls swoon. So do the guys. Everyone except for you.

He’s unnervingly handsome, with long dark ears that sometimes hang in front of his eyes. You’ve caught him with them pulled back Lola Bunny-style, knotted with a loose silk scrunchie that looks nearly as soft as his fur. His hair’s usually unkempt, tossed into a little sprout of a bun, overly long fringe falling all over his big round eyes. He wears butterfly clips sometimes, though that’s usually on days where he isn’t freshly sweaty and carrying his gym bag. They appear in his hair when it’s damp from a shower, the smell of papaya and honey clinging to every inch of him. You know, because you have a great nose - one that’s sensitive to every smell under the sun but especially his. (You try not to think about it much.)

It’s a Wednesday morning when you notice the change. It doesn’t register at first, acknowledgement coming in a curious sniff at the air. Weird.

“Thanks,” he says like clockwork, a well-oiled polite machine, deceptively slender hands receiving the exceedingly hot cup without a care in the world. He’s got his usual bag over his shoulder - overly big, black, almost tactical - and a pair of comfortable looking pants on that seem more like they belong on your beloved grandmother. Somehow, he rocks it (but he always does). “Have a nice day.”

Because of course he says that. Of course he steals the words right out of your mouth, turns them back on you as easy as he makes your heart rattle around in your chest like it’s a Friday night bingo ball.

He moves toward the bar - he only ever grabs three napkins, tucks them into the slot on the left side of his bag - but pauses halfway there. Rooted to the same spot as always, sleek ears following the imposing line of his shoulders.

One, two—

The thumping starts, so quiet it’s almost negligible. But you catch it, because you always do and because you’re the reason for it.

He turns then, levels you with a look from the corner of those pretty, pretty eyes and you can’t help but laugh, openly, unashamedly, with the back of your hand plastered to your mouth. A true ojou-sama.

His mouth quirks - does that funny thing where he sucks in his cheek then rolls it back out with his tongue - and you think he might finally say something. Call you out for writing his name wrong for the past five weeks, finding more and more creative ways to do so every time. Even occasionally using nicknames - silly things you’d come up with while on the walk home, or during lunch, or in bed.

“Good one,” he states, laugh lines threading over his face, prominent around his eyes. His nose wiggles with the sound - another of his traits that comes out to play often. Your favourite of them all, if you’re being honest.

“Anytime.”

You don’t realise it’s him until it’s too late, until you’re practically running into him, bouncing off the broad expanse of his back with a startled squeak. Lucky for you, you’re quick on your feet, catching yourself before your skull can become too well-acquainted with the red brick wall to your right.

“You okay?” Though he asks, you have a sneaking suspicion he knows you’re not and an even stronger suspicion that he’d been waiting for you, hovering past the entrance of the cafe with his big university hoodie on.

“Barely,” you manage around a laugh, straightening the backpack slung over your shoulders, packed to the brim with goodies you got to bring home at the end of the night and two of your textbooks.

“Should watch where you’re going.”

This is the most conversation you’ve had - ever. But it’s fun, easy, organic and natural. You wonder why that is.

“You should watch where you’re standing, actually.”

He’s so much bigger than you, imposingly tall (especially being part of the Leporidae family) and wide in the chest. Not bulky by any means, but big. Strong. Threaded with a strength you don’t normally see in hybrids of his kind. It probably has to do with how often you see him covered in sweat and panting, basketball hooked under his arm, soccer cleats tied to his bag.

When he speaks again, it’s full of mirth, squeezing his round eyes near shut. “Got a problem with me standing here?”

You nod, solemn as ever (which is really never, but that’s besides the point). “It’s dangerous to block entryways, didn’t you know?” You’re gesturing to the awning, the dark interior just past the window of the shop. “You’re loitering, Jungkook.”

“So you do know my name.” You can tell he’s not surprised - that he’s hamming it up for dramatics, softly pink lips rounded in a little ‘O’. He’s cute like this, you think. Playful in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I do?”

There’s that cheek thing again. It’s even more attractive up close, the shape of his jaw thrown into prominent relief when he sucks in a breath.

“You just said it.”

You nod, thoughtful, finger tapping upon your chin. “I guess I did.”

“Say it again,” he states, expression inscrutable, eyes bright. They’re so glossy even under the dimmed streetlights, impossibly big and undeniable. So easy to get lost in - if your attention weren’t caught by something else.

“What is that?”

You’d noticed it earlier in the day, caught the scent in passing sometime during the early hours. You’d been unable to place it then, too distracted by freshly ground coffee, a girl’s three too many spritzes of Daisy by Marc Jacobs, and baking banana loaves.

It’s heady, masculine. A strong musk that sinks into your nose and makes it twitch, ears rotating as if that’ll help pin the smell down.

“What’s what?” You hadn’t realised how close you’d become, your face five seconds from planting directly into his chest. (It’d probably be nice - you know how soft your school’s merchandise is.) “Are you okay?” He asks because you’re now, actually, planting your face right against the worn navy cotton. It’s terribly nice, silk upon your cheek.

You answer more to his clothes than to him, nosing into the fabric. “You smell different.”

You feel more than hear his laughter, the sound barreling past his teeth seconds later. The vibrations running along his spine jostle you from your position face first upon him but you don’t mind. It doesn’t send you far, dark eyes peering up into the face of the bunny hybrid. True to his kind, his nose is twitching, puffs of laughter expanding his cheeks when he meets your stare.

“No I don’t.”

“You do.” Tone firm, a finger lands upon the neatly embroidered N on his hoodie. The white stitching stands in stark contrast to your baby blue nails. “You smell… off.”

Whether Jungkook’s offended or not, you can’t tell. He’s got that same strange expression on his face - the one from this morning when he’d received his coffee. It’s made up of too many moving parts: the flutter of his lashes, the coil of his jaw, the minute tick of the corner of his mouth. You can’t read him for shit, somehow more confused now than in your 300-level art history class. (You’d taken it as one of your optional electives assuming it’d be an easy A. You were wrong.)

“Sorry you think so,” he hums, looking down at you. You’ve seemed to fully forget the meaning of personal space, edged up beside him as if you’re best friends and not just two ships passing in the night.

“It’s not bad.” Really, it isn’t. It’s strong and sensual, vegetal in a way, calming in another. But it isn’t unwelcome.

In fact, you think you might like this scent a little more - less sweet than what normally clings to his skin, natural honeycomb rather than processed sugar. It zings across your teeth, pieces broken up and scattered behind your molars. You can practically taste it. Him.

“Is that so?”

“Yep.”

You share a look - one that says more than all the words you’ve ever spoken, that threads together all the silly laughter, narrowed stares, (written) flirtations. It settles between the two of you, filling the spaces with something akin to cotton, light and airy and soft.

The desire to speak lingers, hidden just beyond the cotton candy dusting. Should you? Shouldn’t you? You still have no idea what he’s doing here, a street urchin making his rounds on the campus village.

He beats you to it. “Can I walk you back to your dorm?”

You don’t think you could want anything more. “Sure.”

Silence falls again but it’s comfortable, a caress rather than a crutch. The grounds are surprisingly quiet - wayward students on their way to the library or heading home from lectures. There are no picnic blankets spread across the grass, no gaggles of girls dressed in school colours. It feels like the first day of fall, change sitting heavy in the air.

“So—” You start.

He finishes, “do you wanna go on a date with me?”

That’s surprising. (Or is it? You’re not really sure.) You nearly trip over your own two feet in your haste to look at him, entire body swivelling on the spot because apparently you can’t just turn your head like a normal person. Something something all or nothing.

“What?”

“Do. You. Want. To—” He’s being insufferable for the hell of it. You can see it in his eyes, glossy things shining down at you like he’s got the entire fucking nightsky hung in them.

“Not if you keep that up,” you retort, though you both know you’re lying. You’ve been waiting - wishing, wanting - for this moment since the day you laid eyes on him. Since Yuri had elbowed you so hard in the ribs you’d thought you’d be bruised for days, since Jae had rambled on and on for his entire shift about the cute new bunny who’d come in that morning. Since that very first wrongly spelt name on his plastic cup and every visit since.

“Is that a challenge?”

“You won’t get it in.”

He scoffs, loud and drawn out, cheek rounding with disbelief at your disbelief. How can you possibly doubt him - school basketball star and all-around athletic freak of nature?

“What do I get if I do?” The ball rests in his palm, poised to be shot through the hoop, sunk without making contact with the rim. He’s confident - he’s done it a million times.

“A pat on the back?” As much as you tease him - loop mockery around nearly every syllable you speak, you’re endlessly supportive, already carrying the fruits of his labour under your arms. A Pikachu shoved haphazardly into the purse slung across your body, a Snorlax tucked under your arm at an awkward angle that crushes his poor head, a Sylveon tucked into the side pocket of his joggers. (The arcade was really into Pokemon, apparently.) “Me saying thank you?”

“Not good enough.” He leans in close - those big galaxy eyes practically swallowing you whole - and taps a single finger upon your nose. It makes your nostrils flare, an itch blooming under his touch. “Gotta sweeten the deal.”

You must look hilarious because Jungkook’s biting back a smile, smirking down at you. Then, all at once, without breaking eye contact, he’s extending his arm, flicking his wrist, and— swish!

In goes the ball, leaving him with a perfect score.

“I want you to stay the night.”

You think he’s joking. He must be joking. This is your third date.

But he’s staring at you like he’s completely serious, gaze expectant, lips pursed around something that reads like a smile but has your heart doing a strange little one-two step in your chest. It soars for a moment, high above the clouds like the string orchestra of a choral work - Beethoven’s Ninth in D minor.

“Are you propositioning me, Jeon Jungkook?” It’s the same reaction he always has when you say his name: a twitch of his ear, the corner of his bottom lip quirking and then resetting, eyes so sparkly it’s almost absurd.

“No. I’m just telling you what I want.”

“Huh.” You should say no. Guys like him - with charm that oozes out of every pore, whose offhanded smiles break more hearts than you ever have - are almost always bad news. Too sweet, too funny, simply too much for your feeble heart to take.

“Is that a yes?” He’s got you in his clutches - a viper rather than a hare, with a smile so dangerous you’re paralysed by just the sight of it. (Who needs venom?)

Your words catch in your throat, stick to one another like the deformed gummies at the bottom of the movie theatre bag. What comes out isn’t what you expect. “Okay.”

Damn you. Damn him. Damn how good he smells and the big dumb grin that spreads over his lips, sunshine in human form, undeniable and warm and cute enough to start a war over. (That’s probably what’s happening - a vicious battle between your head and your heart.)

Damn his stupid thumping foot that you can make out over the sound of the video games, the boisterous din. It’s so cute you can’t help yourself from smiling, mouth pulling and pursing around the delight that begs to be freed.

“Cool,” he says, and you almost think that’s not very cool. He’s so nonchalant, cavalier about it as if it means nothing. You’d be bothered if you felt like you didn’t know him so well - hadn’t learnt his idiosyncrasies over the last two months.

How he looks when he laughs really hard, his slightly too-big front teeth taking up all the real estate in his mouth. How he sounds when he’s tired (groggy, with a lisp that rarely sees the light of day otherwise) or when he’s told he’s wrong (pouty, with his bottom lip jutted out so cutely you want to scream). How he runs every morning, hits the gym every night, and eats double your protein because fitness, bro! How his cheat meal of choice is soy garlic fried chicken from the place off-campus and he hates tangy, tart desserts (your lemonade lip gloss not included, he insists). How he can’t sleep if he’s too hot - which he often is - and he spends way too long combing through his ears with a specialty brush he doesn’t let anyone touch. How he’s secretly raindrops and gummy bears and hand holding in the car, so much more than his high school superlative of most likely to grace the cover of GQ.

You wonder, because you know those things, does that make you special? Does it make you immune to the heartbreak that you swear you imagine whenever your mood drops (not often, but often enough)?

You hope so.

“Let’s go shoot guns?” He’s tearing you from your reverie, planting an open-mouthed kiss to your temple. It’s sloppy and not very refined, much less suave than what you’d expect from your school’s soccer captain (and basketball small forward and swim team stand-in). You suppose that’s why you like him so much - because he’s always surprising you, keeping you on your toes.

“Let’s.” You agree, letting your date drag you toward the Time Crisis machine. It’s blissfully unoccupied, allowing the two of you to slide into place. He takes the blue gun, you the red.

He squeezes your hip when you take up position, one eye squeezed shut as you look down the barrel of the plastic weapon. “Better not let me die.”

“Better not get shot,” you return.

He doesn’t listen - failing halfway through the helicopter scene, his shot missing and resulting in some sad miserable death in the form of Continue? blinking across the screen. Neither of you mind that much though. He occupies himself on his phone, free hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. You play better when he’s not shouting terrible call-outs, nearly crashing into you because he gets so into it.

(How he’s never got a concussion on the basketball/soccer/etc. field before, you’re not sure.)

By the time you’re done - a good five minutes later, you think - Jungkook’s growing restless, tugging at your belt loops enough that you stumble with every shot, nearly knocking yourself out when you have to steady yourself on the centre console.

“Kook!” Your glare is barely that, too affectionate to dissuade him from his childish antics.

He pulls you forward, traps you between his thick thighs, tattooed hands settling comfortably on your hips. “Let’s go home.”

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

Of course, he doesn’t deny that.

It’s not the first time you’ve been over. Not even your second or third. You’ve met up with him before his games, thrown his jersey overtop and helped him wrap his fingers before hitting the court. You’d even had to grab his cleats for him once, running across campus as he did drills in his socks as punishment.

This time feels different. You know why but it doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. It lodges somewhere in your throat, makes it hard to breathe when you kick off your shoes and tuck them neatly beside Jungkook’s.

“Are you hungry?” He’s already in the small kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at you as you linger in the adjoining hallway, bag halfway over your head.

“I’m good.” You are, really. You’d eaten one donut too many at the arcade, indulged in a little too much disgusting nacho cheese goodness. You don’t really understand how your date’s still hungry, a cucumber crunching between his teeth when he turns back to you.

Standing there, vegetable devoured in quick, decisive bites, he looks every inch the French lop bunny he is.

You reach him in the same instant he finishes his midnight snack. Arms fold around you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, head dropping to rest comfortably upon yours. Like this, his ears tickle your cheek - velveteen fur lost to the silk of your hair. “Are you tired?”

Another no comes - spoken into the fuzzy fabric of his sweater - and he hums above you, whole frame rattling with the noise.

“No bed then?”

At least he’s transparent, you think.

“One track mind much?” You’re only teasing. A part of you looks forward to… whatever it is that sits over the horizon, lost past the creaky bedroom door and somewhere beneath his surprisingly soft sheets. (You’d asked about them once - he’d told you his mother liked to send him housewares to remind him of home. He was a real mama’s boy that way.)

The monster only laughs, snuggles into your hair like it’s home. “Can you blame me?”

You can’t do much of anything when he’s like this - so utterly adorable and enticing and good for your heart that it feels as if you’ve taken a straight dose of morphine.

“Let’s go to bed, Wookie.” Another nickname, recently coined after you’d spent an evening watching Star Wars for the first time.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You whack him on the way to his bedroom, smack a hand over the arm curled around your shoulders. He pretends like it hurts, howls in a way he he thinks resembles a wounded animal but really just sounds stupid. “Not a ma’am.”

“Sir?” He asks, just to make you laugh.

“If you don’t shut up—”

He pushes you through the door of his bedroom while giggling to himself, sound puffing out of his cheeks. “Don’t be mad, kitten.” The two of you drop to the bed, a tangle of limbs and silken fur and squeaking laughter. “You’re so purr-ty when you’re annoyed.”

He’s doing it again. Dropping those stupid cat puns that make your nose wrinkle, ink-tipped ears folding back against your head.

“I think I’m hiss-terical, don’t you?”

Face adamantly buried into his sheets, you don’t give him the time of day. You don’t even care that your mascara is probably rubbing off against the charcoal fabric, lipstick tint doing potentially irreversible damage. He knows how unfunny you find these jokes, how you’ve heard them your whole life and roll your eyes so hard your optic nerve might sever every time you face another.

What’s the point of sharing your pet peeves with him when all he does is lean into them? Use them against you like it’s the cool thing to do. Make you wonder what you’d seen in him when he was just another customer, another boy in Seoul National indigo and bedhead so dishevelled it begged to be managed.

(You’re not sure why you’re so irritated suddenly, caught in the clutches of a moodswing as you curl into your side and ignore his bad jokes.)

Stupid Jeon Jungkook. Annoying, silly, too-cool-for-his-own-good Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook who makes you second guess your choices, leaves you breathless and confused with just one dumb look. Who has convinced you into his bed and teases you mercilessly, snickering to himself as his foot bounces against the floorboards because he finds himself that funny.

“Baby?” The pet name comes, presses itself past your curtain of hair and invades your thoughts.

You say nothing, adamantly faced away.

He doesn’t like that, sneaking his hands around you and cradling you into his chest as if that’ll lighten the mood. (It does, a little bit, but you don’t tell him that.) “Don’t ignore me,” he mumbles, warmth breath tickling your ears, fingers dancing over the rungs of your ribs as if they’re ivory and not bone, playing a tune only he can hear.

“Stop with the shitty jokes,” you retort. You’re being difficult - can feel the vinegar turning your blood even as he tries to will it all away.

You feel the intake, the rise and fall of his broad chest. You can only imagine how hard he’s biting his tongue, careful to keep his next errant pun at bay. People don’t tell him no - only you. Maybe that’s why you do it, to remind him you’re not just like everyone else.

“Sorry.”

You don’t tell him to show you how sorry— but he does anyway.

You’re astounded by him, utterly entranced by the way he moves. How power runs the length of his frame, manoeuvres each of his limbs and turns your own to jelly.

He’s got you face down, ass up, hands cradling your hips like they’re his home and he can’t bear to let go. Every upward stroke feels like heaven - feels like a million lifetimes of pleasure you can barely wrap your thoughts around. He’s impossibly big, thick and long. The first thought you’d had when he’d stripped his black Calvin Kleins was pretty.

You realise now there’s nothing pretty about him. He’s filthy - the devil come to collect as he fucks you across his bed, nearly loses you to the pillows at the head with each snap of his hips. (What they said about rabbits was true, you think.)

“B-Bunny,” you sob, scratch over cotton that’s worn soft and smells exactly like your favourite sweater of his. The linens are defenseless, tangled up and wrinkled with each flex of your fingers, bunched up within your palms every time he buries himself like he’s looking for the answer to life, thinks he might find it within the fluttering walls of your pussy.

“Not my name.” When he sounds like this, he’s more predator than prey, a thousand volts of electricity shooting up your spine. He’s demanding and unrelenting. It makes your head spin.

“Wook—”

“Not.” Bunny teeth are just as painful as a feline’s, doing their job as they dig into the flushed skin over your back, marking his territory with two prominent indents right between your neck and shoulder. “A.” He ruts into you as if he’s got something to prove, snaps his hips to a beat you can’t keep up with. “Wookie.” Grips you so tight you might snap, red blooming beneath his hands.

You sob under him, drool against the pillows because you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut. (You feel like Jungkook post-win, spewing nonsense as he prattles on about game winning plays with his teammates.)

“K-Kookie.” It’s what he wants to hear - hits him right in the chest, a bull’s eye to the thing that beats wildly and in tandem with your own.

His rhythm stutters. The bed is shaking and not because he’s practically breaking the weak wooden frame. No, his foot’s thumping, bouncing across the sheets even as he tries to regulate the roll of his hips, return it to the assured, teeth-numbingly good tempo it’d been at.

It doesn’t work. You love it anyway. Like it more, because it means he’s just as affected by you as you are him. Your heart sings, leaps out of your chest on hummingbird wings, and dances around your head. You’re a goddamn cartoon - Pepé Le Pew in ragdoll form - animated pink shapes circling like a crown.

You don’t care. You can’t. Not when he plasters himself to your back and asks you to say it again, begs you to tell him how good he is, tells you how he wants to make you his.

Who cares if it’s three dates in, if your meeting was cliched and silly and he’s the campus heartthrob?

You don’t - because he’s yours and when he flips you onto your back and you curl your fingers into his hair, it’s your name he stutters out. It’s you who has him coming apart beneath your hands, the feel of his ears like velvet, the little whines he huffs growing louder each time you tug at the base. It’s you who knows what he sounds like as he falls to pieces, throws himself against you as if gravity demands it. It’s you who holds him to sleep, whose skin acts as a canvas for the doodles he traces as he drifts off.

It’s you and it’s him and that’s enough.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

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fatiguing-thoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Change of Heart - Paul Lahote x Reader

Request: “Hey, since you don't feel comfortable writing about the poly imprinting thing the other anon suggested, I have an idea based on what they said that maybe you could write instead. So instead of the reader imprinting on both, a reaction type of thing for when the reader had a crush on one, but falls in love with the other with time. If it is preference style, you can get to show both situations (crush on Embry, but falls for Paul later and vice versa)”

this is the crush on Embry -> falling in love with Paul version

Having a mother who was obsessed with the beach was the reason that your life turned out the way it did.

That’s where you met your best friend, Embry Call.

His mother worked at the souvenir shop, she frequently brought him to the beach as well. So time after time of running into each other and playing together as kids-- you grew up hanging out all the time.

Despite you living and going to school in Forks, you guys saw each other at minimum three times a week. And as you got older, you only hung out more. Even into young adulthood.

You guys did everything together. School dances when your moms forced you into going, going to see the movies either of you were dying to watch, and simply hanging around doing nothing. It was like you were dating, but if dating meant that you were merely best friends. No kissing, the awkward touching of hands here and there.

But overall, you and Embry connected deeper than anyone else. You would stay up talking all night, picking the brains of one another’s minds. Listening to music together, singing your favorite songs. Sometimes you stared a little too long at his lips, but that was besides the point. You guys were friends.

I had grown quite the crush on Embry, but I knew deep down that it wouldn’t be worth risking the friendship. I could never risk anything awkward between us. I have never felt this comfortable around another person before, and I doubt that I would find it again. So holding Embry close to my heart as a best friend was an idea that I was well acquainted with. I’d grown to accept it.

Though, as time went on, he began to gain some newer friends, which was normal. What high school boy didn’t hang out with other boys? The only issue was, it seemed to tear into your Embry time.

It was fine, really. Embry’s happiness was my top priority. But when he finally introduced me to his friends, I’ll admit I felt pretty excited. To finally meet some new people, to find friendship in those other than Embry.

Embry was always my best friend, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a bigger circle. He spoke so highly of them all, how could I not be thrilled to meet them?

So when I did, I could say that I was both incredibly nervous, yet excited.

“They’re gonna love you.” He reassures me on our way to Jake’s house.

“How do you know that?” I ask, fiddling with the rip in my jeans.

“Because, I love you. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for. They’re gonna think you’re a lot of fun and super cool, because you are.” He smiles that signature Embry Call grin.

Friend. Ugh. Get it together, (Y/N).

“Thank you, Em.” I smile back.

“Of course.”

The drive to Jacob’s was quick from Embry’s considering they both lived in La Push. Pulling up into the house, Embry led me into the garage where they were working on Jacob’s project car, the rabbit. Embry would never shut up about it, his eyes brighter than the sun whenever he talked about how much fun it was, how he enjoyed finally being able to exercise his mechanic skills.

“Hey guys, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Jacob, Jared, Quil, and Paul. We have a few classes together.” He points at them as he says their names.

“Hi.” I wave shyly.

“(Y/N), I know you haven’t been here yet, but don’t worry. I’ll quickly become your favorite. Don’t stress.” Quil walks over, putting his arm around your shoulder and chuckling.

“Oh great, thanks.” I roll my eyes. “You really weren’t kidding, Em. He’s nuts.” I giggle.

“Wow, okay. Thanks for putting in a good word, Embry.” Quil laughs, walking back to where he stood.

I quickly found myself growing comfortable, no wonder why Embry found good company in these guys. They were all so nice, so down to Earth.

One in particular caught my attention, Paul. He was handsome, well built for his age. He seemed to be just as friendly as the rest, too.

I watched as Embry and Jake worked on the engine, peering over the side of the hood.

“Do you know anything about cars?” A charming voice rings out behind me.

I turn over my shoulder and see Paul, I felt a blush begin to rise to my cheeks. Why did he get me so flustered for absolutely no reason?

“Uh, yeah. A little bit. Embry talks my ear off about them, plus I have some cars I like myself. But mechanical wise, they run circles around me.” I smirk.

“Nice. They’re teaching me a lot more, I’m probably at the same level you’re at.” He chuckles, his deep brown eyes piercing into mine.

“No you’re not, (Y/N) still runs circles around you. I’m the best teacher around.” Embry teases.

“Well, you heard it here first. Looks like I know more than you about cars.” I tease.

“Might have to teach me some stuff some time.” He smirks.

I felt the blush creeping onto my cheeks again, so I bent my head down, glancing down at my feet, before returning his gaze.

“Maybe.”

Embry looks between us, discomfort slightly showing on his face, which left me a bit confused.

The drive back to my house was a bit awkward.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“I just... I got the vibe that you and Paul hit it off really well. Which would be fine, but he’s a bit of a... player. I just, I don’t want you to go through that. He’s a great friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend.” Embry gently tells me, looking into my eyes with his chocolate brown ones.

“I see.” I swallow, looking out the window.

I was unsure of what to say. Paul seemed like a nice guy, but Embry wouldn’t steer me wrong.

Over the next few weeks, I began to spend more and more time with them all. I grew to adore them more than I ever thought I would, they were just as important to me as Embry was now, my romantic feelings finally subsiding for him. Quil quickly became the impish friend that Embry told me he’d be, Jared was an absolute clown, Jake was beyond friendly, very caring.

And well Paul... Paul was someone that really left me blushing almost constantly. He hung onto every word that left my mouth, and I did the same for him. He was sweeter than sugar to me, even if he was less of that to the rest of the group and everyone else. He had a certain softness in his voice, in his body language with me. Paul talked to me like I was the only person in the room, but Embry’s warning loomed over me like clouds over the rainy Forks sky.

As time went on, Embry warned me again. He even spoke to Paul about it, apparently. Paul had told me about it one night while we were talking just the two of us. We begun to hang out just the two of us, yet I never let him call it a date as per Embry’s warning.

While he was at first surprised I wouldn’t go on a date with him, he was persistent because he knew how I felt. He knew the connection we had. He was upset that I always reciprocated the flirting, but was always far too hesitant to make any larger moves.

“Embry, I haven’t seen any other girls since you brought her to hang out.”

“I don’t know Paul... I don’t want (Y/N) to be the same as every other girl for you.”

“She’s not, she’s different. You know that. I really like her, I never felt this before. She won’t say yes unless you’re okay with it.”

“Don’t make me regret this, Paul.”

“You won’t.”

Paul would hold my hand when I would get scared during horror movie night. He would pick me up for hangouts for the pure fact that he could drive me home, despite me being able to drive and having my own car. He would give me his hoodies when I would grow cold, whispering about how they looked better on me than him. Paul grew protective over me, always making sure that every adventure we took together, he would be there to make sure I stayed in one piece due to my clumsiness. Paul truly thought I was this fragile piece of glass that could shatter at any moment.

He would surprise me with my favorite drink from Starbucks when I was having a rough day at work. The way he would always have to touch me, whether that be resting an arm around my shoulder, holding my hand, or resting a hand on my thigh or lower back. All of the above sending my nerves in a frenzy. He was protective, slightly jealous. He didn’t like when guys checked me out, so he made it known I was his when he would press a kiss to my lips, then smirking at them, pulling me into him.

I loved the feeling of when he would pull me into his lap, his strong arms wrapping around me. The way he held me at night, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world-- it was a beautiful feeling. It was crazy to hear the stories of the hot-headed boy, because with me he wasn’t like that. He was patient, kind, and loving to no end. Did he have his moments where his temper would flare up? Of course. Everyone does, but I tried to help him get to where he wanted his temper to be. We worked on new ways to cope, we made a lot of progress for him.

He was everything you could ask for in a guy, he was nothing Embry warned me about. Everyone noticed that Paul had softened immensely, he was calmed down. He was “whipped” according to the guys, which I didn’t stop him from kicking Jacob’s ass for that one.

“Damn, Paul. (Y/N) trained you well.” Quil teases, only to be pulled into a headlock.

Our first kiss was sweet, it was gentle. Paul’s large hands held my face like he was holding the most fragile thing in the world. He treated me like a princess.

“Wanna go get lunch before we hang out with everyone? I’m buying.” He offers.

“Sure, but you’re not buying my lunch.” I giggle over the phone.

“Why not? It’ll be a date.” He chimes.

“I don’t know... What’s in it for me?”

“Uh, going on a date with the hottest and sweetest guy in all of La Push.”

“Oh, Jacob’s taking me on a date?” I tease, knowing that would drive him a little nuts.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He chuckles into the phone.

“I just might be, when’re you picking me up, Lahote?” I giggle.

“I’m actually outside already. Surprise.”

So we went out to lunch, and it was really fun. It always was a fun time with Paul. Going to hang out with the guys was great, though something was off with Jared. He played it off, continuing to tease Paul and I.

Embry grew to support Paul and I, though he told me he was my second pair of eyes. He was watching Paul like a hawk, hoping he wouldn’t break my fragile heart.

But when Jared got sick with mono and stopped coming around, I had to be there for him. He was beyond hurt when he saw Jared hanging out with Sam Uley. Why would he up and leave the group? No explanation, nothing. Jared avoided all of us like the plague.

Paul was devastated. That was his best friend, how could Jared lie to him? How could he ditch him like it was nothing?

The issue was, is that Paul had a hard time expressing his emotions. Even though he was sad about the situation, he grew to be angry. He would huff and puff, pacing the room, yelling about how Jared was being an asshole and how he had no idea what to do.

It was fine, really. You knew that he was going through the ringer and he still treated you like a princess.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t even realize how much I was yelling.” He would apologize, walking over to you sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to calm down after your attempts to do so were futile.

“I understand, you’re going through a rough time right now. But I’m here for you.” I smile, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I love you.” He presses his forehead against mine.

“I love you, too.”

Chills ran up my spine, I had felt butterflies like never before. Paul gave me feelings I never knew existed.

But soon, he grew feverish. His skin was burning hot and he grew testy. He snapped at everyone, and seemingly for the littlest of things. I thought it was strange, as this was a side of Paul I had never seen. We had to leave Jake’s one night, as he grew incredibly protective over me... almost animalistic. He almost lost it on Quil when he started play fighting with me, I just took him out of there, leaving the guys in the garage. I was met with concerned eyes all around, but I knew Paul wouldn’t hurt me... I just had no idea what had gotten into him.

He held onto me like his life depended on it.

“I’m scared, (Y/N).” He whispered into my neck.

“Why Paul?”

“Jared and Sam... they look like they’re waiting for me. I can’t stand it-- they’re hovering over me all the time. I can’t deal with it.” He huffs.

His feverish skin almost burning mine, just as it had been the last few days.

“I’m sorry Paul, maybe try to avoid them?” I offer up my advice, but it met with a mere sigh from his lips.

“They keep telling me I have to break away from everyone. That I’ll have to leave the friend group, that I’ll have to leave you. They’re lucky I didn’t kick their asses.” He huffs.

His words shocked me, they left me speechless. Why would they be saying that?

“Why would they say that?”

“Hell if I knew. I just ran out of there before I punched someone. I know you don’t like when I hit people.” He chuckles.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” I smirk.

But I couldn’t shake his words, I didn’t understand why they wanted him? Why they wanted him to cut us all off?

He soon fell asleep while I rubbed circles into his back, trying to soothe him once again. I heard my phone go off on the table next to me.

It was Embry asking if I was okay, to which I told him yeah. He didn’t need to know the worries plaguing my brain.

But the next few days, Paul got sicker. He started changing before my eyes, growing insanely fast. His body temperature continued to climb. He told me that Sam and Jared wouldn’t leave him alone, but he was only getting angrier at them and holding onto me tighter.

“They keep saying they don’t want me to hurt you.” He would sigh, his face visibly distressed.

And then told me that I couldn’t see him for a while. He cut off all the guys completely, and I hadn’t heard from him since; he wasn’t even answering my texts.

Embry was worried sick about me, despite everyone being upset at Paul’s sudden change and departure from our lives. He would come and check up on me, absolutely stunned to see the shifting moods I had.

One minute, I was fine and 110% certain that Paul wouldn’t up and leave with no warning, and the next I was a blubbering mess. Embry did his best to make sure that I wasn’t left alone for too long, as he was afraid I would become the next comatose Bella Swan. I mean, kudos to him for caring but that wouldn’t happen. Or maybe just yet, as the longer Paul was gone the less I seemed to care about anything else. It just felt like a part of me was gone, like the puzzle piece fitting my heart together was missing.

So a few days later, I made some of his favorite soup and made my way over to his house.

I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. It was locked so I couldn’t let myself in, but I knew where Paul’s bedroom window was. I peeked through and saw him peacefully sprawled out on his bed, the sight bringing both relief and a smile to my face. But then I heard some whooping noises from the back of his house, causing me to investigate.

I look and see none other than the infamous Sam Uley and Jared Cameron, he looked very different since the last time I had saw him. It felt like forever ago since that night.

“(Y/N), what’re you doing here?” Sam asks with a concerned tone.

“I needed to see Paul.” I demand.

“Go home, (Y/N). He doesn’t want you to come around anymore, he doesn’t want to be with you anymore.” Jared looks deep into my eyes, his words punching me in the gut.

His eyes were hard, as were his features, but I knew he was full of shit. But the words still hurt for just a second. For just a second.

“What the hell are you guys doing to him?” I look at them with eyes set to kill.

“What? What did he tell you?” Jared asks, eyes widening with concern.

“Calm down.” Sam urges, putting a hand out in front of Jared.

“He won’t tell me anything anymore.” I hiss. “But before he stopped answering me he was so afraid of you guys! Always following him around, telling him what to do. Telling him to stay away before he hurts me! Paul would never hurt me, asshole!”

I was fuming now, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself. Paul was a tough guy, nothing really broke him like their warnings and constant following did. The sudden changes he was experiencing, he had no idea of what to make of it as he was given no answers.

“I watched him change in front of my very eyes, this is beyond some bullshit about him wanting to leave me, Jared. This is not normal.” I stomp my way over to them.

“(Y/N), stay back.” Sam’s hand gestures up to me. “Jared, calm down.”

“Sam, don’t. I’m done with this, I want my boyfriend back. Jared, what the hell got into you, too?” I raise my voice at him, causing him to flinch.

“Hello? Earth to Jared Cameron? What’s your deal now, asshole?” I yell again, poking his bare chest.

But that’s when rage took over Jared’s body. Something I had never seen before. Jared was always goofy, so nice. I had really only seen Paul so angry, and even then-- this was a different level.

“(Y/N), move back now.” Sam yells.

This time, I listened. I took some hesitant steps back, almost tripping over my own feet.

Jared’s body was almost vibrating at this point, that’s how fast it was shaking. I just stared in awe, Sam’s voice was booming, though.

“(Y/N), move back!” He yells again.

I bring myself to take a few more steps back, but this time I did trip over my feet.

Jared suddenly moved like he was bursting out of his own skin, and in some way he did. Sam pushed him back to create some more distance, but overall in the end-- Jared turned into an enormous wolf. An enormous wolf that snarled at me, but overall didn’t do anything to hurt me.

“What the hell?” I blink my eyes, before running towards Paul house.

That’s when I see Paul running towards the situation.

“Paul, run!” I say, trying to grab a hold onto him, but he gently, but very quickly, shook me off.

He too, burst out of his own skin, turning into a giant wolf.

“What?” I whisper to myself.

I watch as Paul jumps onto Jared, listening to their snarls and growling. I stared astonished, as Sam looks over at me with sympathetic eyes.

After a few moments, Sam orders them to stop. And they did, they walked into the woods and came out with some jean shorts on.

“Come here.” Sam says, helping me off the ground.

“Is this... is this what was going on?” I breathe out.

“Yeah, you’re gonna learn a lot today.” He sighs, clearly unhappy about me knowing.

“I’m sorry.” Jared exhales. “It’s hard to control your anger when this starts, and then I had to lie and everything. I’m just sorry.” He smiles softly.

“All good, understood now.” I smirk.

Though I was still uneasy. What did all this mean?

“Paul?” I merely whisper, looking up at his face.

He had grown a lot, got even more muscular since I had last seen him. But he refused to meet my gaze.

“Paul, please look at me.” I beg, reaching out to grab his forearm.

He hesitates, almost afraid to.

“Paul if you think I’m afraid of you, I’m not. Please look at me.” My pleading voice almost cracking.

I needed to see those deep brown eyes I had loved so much. The ones that brought me endless joy, endless love. But he wouldn’t budge.

“That’s not what I’m afraid of right now.” He chuckles sadly.

He was still looking over my head, refusing to meet my gaze.

“You owe it to the both of you to figure it out, Paul.” Sam nods.

“What? What’re you talking about.” I turn to Sam.

But as I turn my head to look back at Paul, I finally caught his gaze. A small smile crept on his face, until our eyes met.

That’s when his jaw fell slack, his face completely softened. It was like he was stuck in a daze of sorts.

But what I felt was good. I felt like the world had stopped spinning, I felt like Sam and Jared were gone, it was only Paul and I. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as this overwhelmingly great feeling pressurized around my entire body. This was something far more intense than what Paul and I usually had felt, and even before I thought we had intense feelings.

No, this was different.

I had no idea how to even stand anymore, I felt like my knees were going to give out.

“Finally, some good news.” Jared huffs, grabbing both of us out of our trance.

“Okay, please explain things.” I look back to Paul.

“Okay.” He breathes a sigh of relief, before he pulls me into a rib crushing hug, spinning me around.

I felt the air leave my lungs, this actually hurt. He sometimes accidentally hugged me too hard, but this was surreal.

My breath hitched as I whimpered out and “ow” which caused Paul to quickly let go, profusely apologizing.

“Sorry, I forget my own strength. Still not completely used to it.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Okay, so let me get this straight. Vampires run rampant through Forks and the rest of the Olympic Peninsula? Right, so that’s what made you guys phase. And then you can’t be around people for a while because it’s an enormous secret that only the pack and their imprints can know. And Paul imprinted on me, but I still don’t know what that exactly means, but we can go over that. But then, you guys protect everyone from said vampires and destroy them. Now you’re super warm and strong and the rest of the group you expect to join soon? Because you all have it in your blood?” I ask, looking at Sam.

“Well, you seem to really listen. But yes, It’s likely that Quil and Jacob will, we don’t know so much about Embry but it’s possible. Has he been acting strange?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“He texted me about a fever earlier, but he’s been normal enough.”

“Well, you suddenly disappearing might set him off.” Jared chuckles.

“What? I can’t see him anymore?”

“Not until he phases, any of them. The secret is important.” Sam looks at me with empathetic eyes, Paul’s hand immediately resting on my lower back.

“I have to disappear out of my best friends’ lives? I don’t even phase!”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s too much of a risk right now. Over time, we’ll see what happens.”

My heart sank, how would they forgive me for disappearing indefinitely? For blowing them off? I was growing anxious at the thought.

“They’ll forgive you when they understand, it just takes time.” Sam nods.

“Okay.” I whisper.

“Alright, Paul. Explain imprinting.” Jared smirks, looking over at us.

“Right now?” Paul looks at Sam, but Sam only nods his head, signaling for him to begin explaining.

“Paul? Just talk to me, we always talk about anything and everything.” I lay my hand on his comfortingly.

He seemingly melted at my touch, just as always.

“Well, the thing is, it’s not our choice. And I want you to hear me out before you say anything, please.”

“Of course.” I grew nervous at his words, but I knew that was nervous, too.

“Well, so it happens to some of us, not all of us get so ‘lucky,’ if you will. It happens when you see a certain person for the first time after you phase. When you look into their eyes, it’s just... it’s pure bliss. You just know, you know it’s your soulmate. But, that doesn’t mean romantic, it could be platonic. In reality, it’s up to them. But for us, you’d do anything, be anything for them. A friend, protector, a lover. We just... we need to be near them. I need to be near you, and I always did, even before all of this complicated shit. I was always protective, but I can’t imagine I’ll ease up, it’ll probably get worse so I’m sorry in advance, but overall, I want you to know that you hold the reigns.” He softly smiles, looking into my eyes with a pleading look.

“Oh, I see.” I murmur, looking down at my hand for a second, trying to process the situation.

His face fell, and it looked like someone punched him in the gut, Jared and Sam grew a bit worried.

“Wait, that wasn’t me rejecting you. I’m just... I’m thinking. It’s just a lot to take in. I love you, more than anything. I’m glad it was me and not someone else, I am. As long as you’re happy about that. But I just need to understand it. I feel a physical pull to you, so I feel it, too.” I smile softly, thinking about when he refused to look into my eyes.

“I’m very happy that it was you.” He grabs onto my hand.

“So why didn’t you want to look into my eyes?” I mumble.

“Because I didn’t want to bare the thought of it not happening with you, though I don’t think I could change anything about us, ever. Imprint or not, (Y/N), you’re stuck with me.” He chuckled. “But only if you want me.”

“Of course I want you.” I nudge his shoulder.

After that, it was just playing the waiting game, waiting for my best friends to phase, too. I was left with so many calls and texts I couldn’t answer. Embry showing up to my house, knocking to no avail. Leaving, sadness deep in his eyes. Though, he eventually became angry. I knew he was going to phase soon, I watched from afar how he was growing more hostile, and how he was changing physically. Soon, I’d have my best friend back.

Paul was right, he grew more protective, more worried about my every move. It was clear to us all that he was more protective than Sam and Jared were over Emily and Kim. It was easier to understand everything with Kim and Emily being apart of this all, as they knew where I was coming from.

But, it was the waiting game that was killing me. Thankfully, Paul was around to pick up the pieces after leaving my best friends behind, no notice given. He held me when I grew sad, feeling guilty for having to leave their lives.

Paul was unwavering, loving me endlessly. __________________________________ Word Count: 4796

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #embry call #embry call x reader #quil ateara #jared cameron #sam uley #jacob black #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #twilight

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years ago

Text

Bubble Wrapped - Part 13

Word Count: 3,876

POV: Reader

Warnings: Same as always, Language, Smut, NSFW, Please see the note in the Masterlist

Teams: Bruins, Caps, Flyers, Lightning, Pens, Jackets, Canes, Islanders

Notes: Well, here we are onto another part of Bubble Wrapped. When we last left this story, our Reader had an encounter with Svech, who then proceeded to profess his love. Our reader didn’t quite see Svech in that light but there might be someone else that she does. So I’m hoping the wrap this story up in a couple more parts. I’m not sure what happened here but this is soft smut in my world. As always feedback is greatly appreciated and wanted…hahaha! Luv ya all!! Happy Reading to all!

Wracking your brain you tried to come up with alternate solutions on where you and Mat could have dinner and maybe a little fun afterward. There was always the option of shutting down one of the nightclubs and having a private party for just the two of you, but then staff would be milling around cooking and getting things ready for the players to use those rooms during the day. Your suite was the ideal option, but with your current roommates, it was scratched off the list easily.

It was then that an idea struck you. Your suite connected to the pool, which always shut down early in the evening. It wouldn’t be hard to shut it down, say around seven in the evening for a late dinner with Mat, and with it being on the rooftop there would be no chance for anyone to see anything that happened after that dinner. “I think I have an alternate plan,” you told Mat who had already decided dinner was off the table so to speak. “That is if you’re still interested.”

One side of his face turned up into what could only be called a shit-eating grin. “Oh, I’m definitely interested.”

“Then meet me up by the pool say seven-thirty tomorrow night?”

There was a note of disappointment in Mat’s face and it had you questioning if you said or had done something wrong. “Yeah, seven-thirty sounds great. Just wish I was the one planning the date for you.”

Oh, well if that was his concern, that was nothing. “I’ll let you plan the next one. You know when you move into the hotel.”

“Deal,” he told you, his eyebrows picking up with excitement and you had to wonder what he had planned for the future. “I hate to do this but I kind of have to get going. I have to get ready for the game soon, or I’d stay and chat.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll meet you tomorrow night.” Mat told you, a huge grin on his face, but then you were pretty sure that yours reflected the same. He was just about to turn and walk away when he stopped, his voice dropping low. “So, am I supposed to bring a suit or…?”

The innuendo hung in the air for only a moment, before you chuckled softly. “Consider it optional,” you told him with a little wink, and then before he could be the one to walk away you did. Leaving Mat to wonder what tomorrow night would hold for the both of you.

The rest of the afternoon went rather swimmingly, or maybe it was just because you had thoughts about your upcoming date with Mat on the brain. You worked most of the day downstairs, calling to check on Svech every so often only to find that he was sleeping. By the time you got back to the suite, the boys were all down in the living room playing video games. At least it was better than them puncturing your ceilings with hockey sticks. There was a slight awkwardness between you, Joel, and Andrei, but then you sort of expected that, considering Svech kept looking at you like a lovesick schoolboy. You could only hope that Joel didn’t realize what had happened while he and Dougie had been at practice.

Before you knew it, everyone retired for the evening. You half expected there to be a knock at your door shortly after you retired, and you laid there for quite some time waiting for it. It never came though. Maybe it was because they were sharing a room, or maybe it was because they both realized that something had happened between you with both of them; you couldn’t really be sure. At any rate, you were glad when they all finally left for the arena, so you could get ready for your date with Mat. Even Svech put on his suit and tie and headed over, as he was hobbling around much better the next day.

Throwing on a cute pale pink sundress, you headed up to the pool area to setup. Being the hotel manager did have its perks, and one of them included knowing where the most secluded spot was on the rooftop deck. You made sure that it would be closed off to all the players, but there was still an off chance that someone could wander up, and you didn’t want to be in the wide open for just anyone to see if they decided to peer through the hallway by the elevators. You rearranged a couple potted plants for cover as well, before setting up the table.

Right before Mat arrived you went down to your suite and brought up the meal that you had the chef prepare, so that everything was perfect for when he came. You weren’t sure why you were going to all the extra trouble, but there was just something about Mat that made you go that extra mile.

You were shocked to see him standing at the door, dress in a button-down shirt and dress pants. Most of the men had adopted the relaxed casual attire the NHL deemed appropriate for the bubble, and you just assumed that he probably hadn’t brought anything with him. “Hi,” he breathed out when you opened the door to let him in, only to lock it again. “These are for you.” He handed over a small bouquet of pink and white roses to you. “It’s the best I could do.”

“They’re beautiful.” It was so simplistic and sweet compared to the extravagant gifts Tyler had given you. “How did you get them?”

“You’re not the only one with connections,” he said with a little wink and you had to wonder if Carly had anything to do with this.

“Thank you, they’re lovely.” Going up on your toes you kissed him on the cheek, which only made you lightheaded as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of him mixed with his cologne.

“You look beautiful by the way,” he told you. Before you could pull away, his hand went to the small of your back urging you to stay tucked into this side.

“Thank you.” Just being close to him again, sent a jolt of lust through your body, and you knew if you didn’t get him over to the table soon, that you’d be having him for dinner. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.” You skated your hand down his arm so that you could entwine your fingers with his and lead him over to the spot you had set up for the two of you.

The table, while not anything special, was set up for just the two of you. A bottle of champagne sat chilling beside it, while the soft glow of candles lit up the secluded alcove you’d chosen. “Wow, you really went to a lot of trouble.”

“It was nothing really.” It struck you then that this was the first real date that you’d had since this whole pandemic started. I mean sure you’d had a few hookups, maybe more than a few, since you were in the bubble and maybe something even before it, but this was like actual couple stuff. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I kind of just went with a little bit of everything.” A bout of nervousness hit for some unknown reason and suddenly you were shaking as you uncovered the dishes you had ordered. Apparently, hookups were easier to deal with than an actual date was.

“Hey, look at me,” Mat gently whispered as he covered his hand with yours, and you looked up into the deep fathoming pools of his eyes. “I’m nervous too if it helps.” The side of his lips lifted up into the cutest smile you ever saw. “Just breathe.” You did, taking a nice deep calming breath and feeling so much better. “Ok, yeah…” Mat said and you looked at him in question. “Maybe not so deep next time.” His cheeks were stained red as he’d just admitted to staring at your breasts, and you had to laugh at how you were both acting like two high school kids instead of grown adults.

It was time to take the situation in hand. Stepping closer to Mat, you whispered, “I think we’d both feel better if we got this out of the way first.” You slid your hands up behind his neck and drew his mouth down to yours. You were only in control of the kiss for a moment, before Mat’s tongue swept across your lips, begging you for entrance, which you gave, of course. His tongue mingled with yours, tasting you and drinking you in, as his hands slid around your waist pulling you close to his body. You melted into him and all the nerves from moments ago just seemed to disappear along with the rest of the world.

Mat pulled away first, yet still chased your lips, before breathless saying, “That was exactly what I needed.”

With one final peck, you stepped back, albeit reluctantly. “Ok, back to dinner then.”

Conversation over dinner flowed easily after that, so much so that you completely forgot the awkwardness that took place when Mat first got there. Mat spoke about hockey and his family, while you deftly avoided telling him anything about yours, not wanting to go down that rabbit hole. Instead, you told him about all the crazy mishaps that had taken place since this bubble had started, omitting all your sexcapades.

“They really broke a pipe with a hockey stick?” Mat roared with laughter at your telling him why the three Canes were staying with you.

“I know. I couldn’t believe it either.”

“You certainly have your hands full here.” Mat took your hand in his then, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “Though I’m glad you made time for this tonight.”

“Me too.” You were honestly having one of the best nights you’d had since the bubble started. With his free hand, the one not still linked with yours, Mat grabbed his phone. Apparently, he didn’t feel the same way as you did if he was going to make a call.

The thought no sooner came to your mind that he wasn’t enjoying himself when you heard a soft melody playing from his mobile. “Dance with me?” You simply nodded your head, and he drew the two of you to your feet.

He easily wrapped you up within his arms, as yours went around his neck; the two of you swaying to the music, bodies pressed intimately as you danced under the stars. Mat’s eyes stared into yours, so warm and loving, and you found yourself getting lost in them. Slowly, his lips drifted down to yours, capturing them in a kiss that stole your breath away. This time you gave him entrance immediately, as your tongues danced to a melody all of their own.

Your fingers slipped through his locks at the nape of his neck, and he moaned against your mouth. The kiss becoming even more heated, his hands roaming over your ass to press you closer to him. Mat twirled you both until you felt the back of your knees bump up against one of the oversized cabana chairs. He lowered you down onto it; his body followings yours as he continued to ravage you with his kisses.

Mat’s mouth was everywhere, on your lips, trailing down your neck and across your collarbone, until he suddenly stopped. He pulled back to look at you, lust in his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”

It was sweet of him to ask considering what had already transpired between the two of you a week or so ago. “Please don’t stop,” you begged him, wanting to feel his mouth on you again. A wicked grin spread on his face before he was back to devouring you again. His one hand skimmed up the inside of your thigh while his other eased the strap of your dress off your shoulder. Not to be outdone, you deftly undid the buttons of his shirt before pulling its tail out of his pants. His body was amazing. You drank it in that day at the arena, admiring his abs as sweat glistened off of them, but now you let your hand leisurely play with the well-developed muscles there.

When your nails raked across his six-pack to roam down to his belt, he sucked in a breath, before stilling your hands. “Not yet, babe. There’s something I’ve been dying to do first.” He gently pushed you so that your back fully lay on the cushions. Slipping your arms out of your dress straps, he slowly lowered the garment so that he could feast upon your breasts. It was no surprise that you weren’t wearing a bra as the sundress's thin spaghetti straps didn’t allow for it. Mat took one taut nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it before tugging on it with his teeth. Your back arched up into him as you gasp out with pleasure.

You were so enthralled with his mouth, you didn’t feel his hand glide up your inner thigh until it reached your core. His hand cupped your sex and you knew he could feel the moisture that he’d created through the thin material of your panties. He spread your legs easily before sinking down on his knees in front of you. He pulled your body closer to the edge of the cabana seat, before pushing your dress around your waist. “Lift up for me.” You did as commanded and the next thing you knew he slid your panties off and into his pants pocket. He trailed hot kisses up your inner thighs making you squirm with delight. Your chest rose and fell in anticipation of where his mouth would soon be, and you could feel him grinning as he kissed your heated skin.

His fingers spread you wide before you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your core. “Mmm,” he moaned out, or was that you, you couldn’t tell. “Fuck your wet,” and this time you knew they were Mat’s words, which brought more moisture pooling at your center. His mouth went to work then, flicking across your clit, then darting inside your pussy. It was a full-on assault to bring you pleasure, and you treasured every second of it. One strong arm, held your hips down as your body started to move on its own accord. “You taste so good,” he panted then sucked on your clit. “I knew you would. This is all I could think about for the last week.” His fingers joined the play of his lips, thrusting first one and then another inside you.

“Don’t stop,” you moaned, as your hands threaded into his dark locks keeping his mouth in place as you drew closer to the edge of ecstasy. Maybe it was your words or the fact that Mat could feel you start to flutter on his lips, but his mouth didn’t let up on your clit as his fingers made that perfect come-hither motion that drove you to the brink of insanity. You came with a loud moan, as your body shook from the intense sensations.

Mat worked you through the orgasm, slowly ceasing his movements as you came back to reality. “Damn your beautiful when you cum.”

His lips glistened with your juices on him and you found yourself reaching for him. He came willingly. His body looming over yours. “Then I think you should make me cum again. Only this time I want you inside me.” Mat didn’t have to be told twice. His mouth came down on yours, where you tasted your essence on his lips, as he kicked his pants off. Taking himself in hand, he guided his cock to your wet and waiting pussy. The chords in his neck strained as he slowly entered you, as you could see the amount of effort it took him to hold back instead of just plunging in deep and hard. Little did he know that that would’ve satisfied you as well, but there would be other times for him to do that, at least you hoped there would.

His lips only left yours once he was buried deep inside you, and then it was only to suck in a deep breath. “Fuck,” he hissed out. “You feel so good.” Slowly, almost painstakingly so, he started to thrust in and out of you. One hand held your hip steady, while the other toyed with your breast, flicking and pinching your nipple. You moaned at the sensation relishing the feel of him inside you. “So beautiful.”

His lips found yours again, stoking an even greater hunger within you. “Harder, Mat. Harder.” He picked up the pace, his balls slapping against you. Moans from both you and Mat mingled in the night air, as a cool summer breeze caressed your heated skin. You felt your body clench as Mat hit you in just the right spot.

“That’s it cum for me, beautiful.” You broke apart, shattering once again as your second orgasm of the night hit you. He gave you but a moment to recover before flipping over on your stomach. Grabbing a pillow, he propped it under your stomach then drew you up on your knees. His cock slammed back into your dripping pussy. Both hands gripping your hips, he pounded into you at a feverish pace. When you finally recovered, you levered yourself up on your elbows, pushing back against him when his thrusts slowed. “Fuck baby,” he grunted out as you fucked yourself on his cock. He gathered your hair in his hands, pulling you gently back towards him as he lowered himself down to nip at your neck. You hoped there wouldn’t be marks there in the morning.

You weren’t sure what pushed Mat over the edge, but the next thing you knew he grabbed both hips and pistoned his cock in and out of you. “Oh,” he groaned, and you felt yourself start to quiver. You didn’t think that you’d cum like this, without any stimulation to your clit, but you could feel a third orgasm start to build. “God, yes, baby.” Mat thrusts hammered into you and then you were spiraling once again. Mat followed you, with a loud moan, as his hands bit into your hips. Your elbows gave out and you both collapsed on the lounge chair. “That was…”

“Fucking amazing,” you finished for him.

“Yes, yes it was.” He moved to his side, bringing your body with him. Bodies sticky from sex and sweat, you laid there letting the summer air cool your body. Mat swept back a lock of hair that had fallen across your face. “So beautiful.” His words were but a whisper, a caress almost and you shivered, not from the night breeze but the look in his eyes. They held so much emotion in them. Happiness, lust, longing, and something else you dare not say for you weren’t sure if you were ready for that, were all there.

It was too much, and so you closed your eyes before saying, “Care to take a little dip?”

“I thought he just did.” You both laughed lightly at his cute little pun. “But why not.”

You got up, leaving Mat still lounging on the oversized chair, and shimmied your dress off your body finally. Looking over your shoulder, you gave Mat a wink before walking to the edge of the pool and diving in. When you surfaced from the water, Mat was still in the same position, just lazily watching you. “Are you coming?”

“Oh, I think we’ll both be doing that in a few minutes.”

True to his words, Mat had you cuming as you both found release under the water. It was sometime later, that you were both dressed again, the night getting late and Mat had to get back to Royal York and his team. “I wish I didn’t have to go,” he told you holding you within his arms, his hands running up and down your back.

“I wish you didn’t either.” You kissed for what had to be the millionth time that night.

“Well, hopefully, you’ll be seeing more of me here soon.” He dropped kisses to your lips, nose, and forehead, before adding. “Until then…Do you think we could do this again?” You went to answer, but Mat continued. “Maybe on a more exclusive level?”

It was the last thing you thought he’d ask. You didn’t really see him as the monogamous type, so his question took you off guard. “I think you’ve been in the bubble too long.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s only opened my eyes to things that I want.” He took a small strand of hair and tucked it behind your ear; he seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. The gesture was both endearing and seductive at the same time.

“I think you drank too much champagne.” It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea of a relationship with Mat. In fact, it was kind of appealing. Of all the men you’d been with since this whole thing started, there were three that came to mind that you’d actually consider being with, and Mat was one of them. You just didn’t know where your feelings stood with the other two.

His grip on your hips tightened and he nudged you closer. “The only thing I’m drunk on ... is you.” He punctuated his words with an intoxicating kiss. “But you don’t have to answer me now. You can let me know when I move in here.”

“You’re incorrigible.” You couldn’t help but kiss him again, for he was just too irresistible.

“I’ve gotta go,” Mat finally said, after what seemed like an endless goodbye kiss.

“I’ll go down to the lobby with you. I should check and make sure everything is fine, before heading to bed.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone.” You hadn’t realized he was the jealous type, but you could see a little bit of the green monster there in his eyes.

“Just making sure none of your roommates will be visiting.” You rolled your eyes at him, though in the back of your mind you wondered what he had heard to make him think something was going on between you and any of the guys.

“They won’t be.” You kissed him one last time before heading downstairs. The lobby was quiet as you said your goodbyes, but then you heard the doors open as the Canes came filtering back in from their game. You’d forgotten all about them playing tonight. From the look on their faces, it hadn’t gone well.

“Looks like I’ll be moving in sooner than I thought,” Mat whispered in your ear as Svech and Joel walked past. Both of them took in your appearance, as well as Mat’s hand at the small of your back. “Guess I’ll be getting an answer to that question soon as well.”

You were going to have to examine your feelings faster than you anticipated, and you weren’t quite sure you were ready to give up all the fun, just yet.

#bubble wrapped the series #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #Mat barzal #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #mathew barzal #Mathew Barzal smut #mathew barzal imagine

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