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kpopfanfictrash · 1 year ago

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Elemental (M) Pt. 1

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Second Chance Romance / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by the knowledge that you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed; something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The person who makes you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And maybe, just maybe, you find the constraints placed on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: death of a parent (past), some emotional abuse

NSFW Warnings: oral (woman and man), multiple orgasms (woman), fingering, hand job, face-riding, sex outdoors (in a secluded, private area), very slight ass-play, breast play

Word Count: 17,287 (32,487 total)

Author's Note: Unfortunately, the new Tumblr text editor doesn't allow for more than 1,000 paragraphs per post. Part I is here, and Part II will be uploaded shortly. Please, please, please reblog both if possible! In my experience, engagement tends to be worse when split into two parts. (also, if you haven't already realized based on the premise, Y/N does break up with Jungkook in the first part of this fic lol so, if that's something you don't want to read; fair warning!)

[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

Magic, to you, has never been a boon.

Despite its romanticization in movies and stories, the reality of magic is messy and unpredictable. As dangerous as it can be fickle, your mom likes to say. Usually followed by a glance in your direction, swift enough for you not to notice, although you always do.

Either that, or an unconscious tilt her chin towards the photograph on the mantle. You aren’t sure she even realizes she does it, acting on instinct alone. The photo is of your dad, holding you on his shoulders with an ear-to-ear grin. He was the other Elemental in your family.

Even with only one magical parent, the Elemental gene tends to be passed on to children. Your dad’s magic was water, skilled in manipulating and calling forth the element. He was lauded for it, which was in itself unusual. More often, Elementals are run out of town by other humans. Although time has gone by since societal integration, there are still many who view your kind with suspicion.

You can’t say that you blame them – not really. Because again, the reality of magic is it can be dangerous. Based on experience, bad things tend to happen when you lose control.

Head tilted, you squint through the fog at your boyfriend’s apartment. For centuries, fog has been heralded as an ill omen and maybe there’s some degree of truth to it. Maybe the first speaker lived near a temperamental water Elemental, unable to keep their emotions from manipulating the weather.

Thoughts souring at how close to reality this feels, you shake your head once and some of the fog clears.

A pep talk, you think. That’s what you need to convince yourself to enter. Unseasonably chilly this late in the summer, your fingers curl into the ends of your sweater. Going inside would be preferrable to standing out in the cold, and yet you can’t manage a single step.

Better to stand in the cold than enter and shatter.

Again, you remind yourself you’re doing the right thing and again, this doesn’t help. If anything, it makes you clutch your sweater tighter. For once, you wish doing the right thing meant what’s right for you. Exhaling deeply, your eyes shut as a train passes and shakes the ground.

You began dating Jungkook three months ago and within a week, you knew it was different. You have a tendency to hide pieces of yourself, knowing most people won’t like what they find. Jungkook never allowed that to happen. The first time you ghosted, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop the next morning and asked what had gone wrong. Taken aback, you responded honestly and to your surprise, Jungkook listened.

He stayed. Stayed when others had run, cementing himself on a short list of people you can trust. Three months into dating, things have moved at once fast and slow. Fast because typically, you exit relationships long before feelings like these ones develop. Slow, because you haven’t given Jungkook every part of yourself.

Physical intimacy comes to mind. On several occasions, this has proved… difficult.

Eyes opening, you stare at the door. Memories of last night rise to the surface. For a long time, you’ve known this relationship has an end date. Knowing this doesn’t prepare you for the difficult conversation ahead.

The last time you saw Jungkook was after midnight. Fat raindrops chased your footsteps while you ran from his place, descending the subway at a record pace. The look on his face remains stuck in your mind and even now, you find the thought hard to revisit.

Imagining hurting Jungkook again is unfathomable. Stifling a gasp, you spin on your heel and march away. Halfway to the gate, you get a grip on yourself. Coming to a stop, you remind yourself this isn’t about you. Jungkook will hate you – there’s nothing to do about that now. Now, this is about Jungkook and ensuring he’s safe.

Slowly, you turn around and make your way forward. In the name of procrastination, you stop at a trash can to clean out your purse. Old receipts, gum wrappers and a crumpled-up napkin shake into the bin. You pause at the napkin, staring at the embossed name of the restaurant you work at. Or – more accurately – worked at.

Slamming the trash lid, you turn. You began work at Pierre’s Bistro two months ago as a temporary measure. Ideally, you paint but lately, inspiration has run dry. Waiting tables pays the bills, leaving time at the end of the day to stare at a blank canvas.

Pierre’s is an upscale French restaurant a few blocks down with semi-decent food and waiting tables would be fine if the owner – Pierre – weren’t a massive asshole. Now that you don’t work there, you can be honest about that. Pierre was the most sexist, elitist, capitalistic piece of shit you’ve ever had the displeasure of working for. While on his payroll, you tried to make the best of it but now, you have nothing to lose. Pierre was a dick.

A point he proved yet again last night, much to your mortification. You prefer working the lunch shift to dinner, and weekdays to weekends. Saturday nights are worst of all, and last night Pierre didn’t arrive until well after six. You were forced to cover the entire front section, picking up for a co-worker who called in sick.

Rushing from the bar, you nearly crashed into your boss removing his coat. Grabbing you by the elbow, Pierre steadied you, his hand lingering.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he joked.

You forced a smile. Experience has taught you the best thing to do in those types of situations is to smile and laugh.

“No fire. Lots of customers! Excuse me,” you said and tried to move past.

Pierre didn’t release you. If anything, his grip on you tightened until you turned your head.

“Yes?” you said, impatient.

Pierre didn’t respond, looking you slowly up and down. Eventually, he released you to take a step backwards. “Nothing,” he said carefully. “Be careful out there tonight.”

Trying not to gag on his words, you moved on. Unfortunately, it was hard to escape Pierre’s notice once caught. From that point on, each of your flaws were held under a microscope. First, it was that you didn’t fold the napkins correctly. Next, you took a wandering path from kitchen to table. Each time you entered the dining room, scornful words were covered by simpering smiles.

By the time your shift end approached, you could barely keep going. A large group had entered and, seeing the host occupied, you took it upon yourself to seat them at your last table. Fixing your apron, you hurried through the restaurant and into the kitchen.

Grabbing another table’s dishes, you thanked the cook and pushed open the door. Immediately, arms shoved you back in. Startled, you barely had time to recognize the host, Vanessa, before the doors swung shut.

“Vanessa?” you said, adjusting your grip. “What’s going on?”

Harried, she glanced over one shoulder. “Sorry,” she sighed, curly hair slipping from her messy bun. “I wanted to warn you before you went back out. Pierre is pissed.”

Your stomach sank. “Pissed… at me?”

She nodded, another dark curl escaping. “Something about saving the table up front for his friends? Bullshit, yes,” she said at your expression. “But you know how he is.”

��Yeah, I know,” you muttered. Deciding there was nothing to be done but keep moving, you hefted your plates higher. “Okay, thanks for the warning. I need to get these to table ten.”

“No problem,” she said and stepped out of your way.

You walked inside with slightly less spring in your step. Pierre lounged near the bar, surrounded by a group of people you could only assume to be friends. Although you felt his gaze on your face, you avoided him the best you could while you made your rounds. Taking the long way to the kitchen, you passed in front of the window.

Which was the moment you noticed Jungkook waiting for you on the curb. He stood beneath a streetlight, light pooling around the ends of his dark hair. When he saw you approach, his face lit up and he smiled.

Cursing beneath your breath, you smiled back. You were supposed to be done a half-hour ago, but there hadn’t been a good time yet to stop. Waving back, you mouthed, just a minute, and frantically pushed through the crowd to the back.

Merely seeing his face lifted a weight from your chest. It was easy to be around Jungkook because he liked every part of you. You never felt the urge to pretend, to curve yourself into something someone else would find pleasurable.

Well, he liked every part except one – and you were working on telling him that.

Hurrying into the staff room, you forgot your plan to avoid Pierre. You nearly jumped a mile when a hand grabbed your elbow, spinning you to face your fuming manager.

Pierre stared down his nose. “Follow me,” he snapped, releasing your arm to spin around.

He passed tables full of patrons, leading you to the bar before turning. “Y/N,” Pierre said, his voice dropping. “Are things okay tonight?”

“Yes,” you responded, deciding one-word answers were safest.

“Then why, exactly, are you fucking this up?”

Your jaw tensed. “I wasn’t aware I was doing so,” you said carefully.

“The napkins?” Pierre made a tsk-ing sound. “How many times should I say that presentation is important? Not to mention your laziness. One of your tables had to flag me down to ask for a refill. And now, you gave away the front table.” His expression darkened. “What makes you think you, a fucking waitress, can step in for a host? You sat someone at the table I personally reserved for my friends!”

You shouldn’t have responded. You should have stayed quiet and yet –

“There was no name in the book,” you muttered.

“What’s that?” Pierre waited and, when you stayed silent, shook his head. “I hadn’t had time to write their name down, but I told Vanessa, who assured me it’d happen. Of course, she wasn’t taking into consideration Y/N, the wonder waitress! Taking everyone’s jobs and making them harder.”

At your sides, your hands balled into fists. It took a greater amount of concentration than normal to keep your emotions from spilling over.

Of course, there were explanations for Pierre’s accusations. The napkins were correct before he jostled the table. You had been circulating your tables and if you were unavailable, it was because of his poor staffing. Oh, and – he didn’t make a reservation for his friends.

Slowly, you exhaled and stuffed down the responses. Deep down, with other emotions and magic. Beyond Pierre, a glass trembled but once you relaxed, the water went still.

“I apologize,” you said, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll do better next time.”

Pierre sniffed. “See that you do,” he said, brushing past. Grabbing a beer from the bar, you heard his friends burst into raucous laughter. Apparently, your humiliation was entertaining.

Heaving a small sigh, you turned – and froze where you stood.

Outside, Jungkook stared into the restaurant with murderous eyes. Too late, you realized Pierre had pulled you in front of the window. Away from anyone dining, but in full view of anyone on the sidewalk. Like your boyfriend, who witnessed the entire spectacle.

For a moment, your emotions overwhelmed, and you felt magic crack the walls you kept hidden. Embarrassment crept past your boundaries. Humiliation. Fury. Stuffing everything back, you quickly turned to rush through the tables.

Jungkook’s gaze snapped towards you, his brow furrowing. Reaching the staff room, you paced up and down. Jungkook saw you. He saw Pierre’s outburst, which meant you’d have to explain. You’d have to explain to Jungkook – the only person whose opinion you cared about – why you allowed other people to walk all over you.

He’d start to ask questions. Questions like, when was the last time you really got mad? You’d have no good response. Not because you don’t get mad, because you do. But because you don’t ever allow yourself to act on the feeling.

Faced with the prospect of brushing him off, you buried your face in both hands. Your usual excuses wore thin in your ears.

Pierre isn’t so bad. It was a one-time thing. You promise you’ll talk to Pierre tomorrow.

None of it would be true, and you didn’t want to lie to Jungkook. People never understood why you wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but the answer was complicated.

Your last date said you lacked emotions, but you don’t think that’s it. Of course, you have feelings, but those feelings are buried beneath so many layers, they can be hard to see. It’s not that you don’t feel, it’s that you cannot.

When you feel, your magic reacts, and people get hurt.

That was the last part of yourself you kept hidden. Jungkook is normal and he doesn’t know you’re an Elemental.

You know that by now, you should have said something. Obviously, but the timing was never right. Twenty-five years old, and you still aren’t sure how to broach the conversation. Few people know what you are, so you haven’t had much experience with the explanation. Your magic isn’t something you use if you can help it.

Yet another lesson you learned from your mom.

Your dad, an Elemental, died when you were five. Before, you lived near the ocean on a flat strip of sand. Your memories from before then are faint, but whenever you try, you can hear his booming laugh. Can feel the salt sting your cheeks, your mom tossing you in the air while you spun around.

Everything afterwards faded. At five years old, a hurricane swept past the barrier islands and that, you remember. You recall your mom at the door, pleading with your dad not to go as he donned his jacket. You remember him holding her hand, kissing the top of your head, and saying he’d return soon. Not many Elementals lived in your area, and even fewer had water magic.

You recall the hours passing, stretching longer and longer until dawn approached. Flashing lights followed, a woman climbing from her car to speak to your mom. You recall the sound of your mom sobbing, the policewoman’s voice floating into the house.

The storm surge was stronger than expected, but your dad managed to divert the worst. He saved the town only to be hit by a bolt of lightning. Instant death, the policewoman said, her tone implying this might be a comfort. Chest tight, your fingertips dug into the railing. Comfort meant nothing when your dad was gone. The irony struck you even back then – your dad saved others, and no one came to save him.

For weeks following, your mom was a ghost. At first, neighbors stopped by to drop off casseroles and condolences. Soon though, their sympathy stopped, and the whispers began. You were young enough not to notice, too consumed by the enormity of your own loss.

Eventually though, you noticed something was off. Suspicious eyes followed you down the sidewalk. Mothers clutched at their children, hurrying them to the side of an empty street. One day, you traipsed downstairs and overheard your mom on the phone.

She sat at the kitchen table, facing away from the staircase. You paused on the landing, listening to your aunt’s voice blast on speakerphone.

“Nonsense,” she was saying. “Your husband was a hero, and anyone saying otherwise is cracked. He saved your town!”

“I know.” Your mom blew her nose. “But now, people are wondering if he caused the storm. They’re saying maybe he… made the hurricane. It’s this new mayor,” she said, frustrated. “He hates Elementals and keeps insisting our family orchestrated this to collect money. He says –”

“Oh, no.” Your aunt sounded furious. “Don’t you repeat a single word that hateful man says.”

“He has a point, though,” your mom said, her voice low. “Did you hear about Uniontown? A fire Elemental accidentally set their barn on fire. Nearly burned the whole town. Magic is dangerous. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen, and now –”

“When was the last time your husband lost control, though? Are you saying you think he caused a hurricane?”

“God, no!” You watched your mom straighten. “But there are people saying… awful things.”

“Some people aren’t worth listening to.”

“I know.” Wearily, she exhaled. “They’re talking about Y/N, too, though. Apparently, she caused a tidal wave at the pool last weekend.”

Hearing your name said out loud, you shrank back in the shadows. You weren’t aware your mom knew about that, or that she cared. Bobby Clemmons teased Judith Bryce about her hair until finally, you snapped. Bobby was swept to the other end of the pool, much to Judith’s relief. She thanked you repeatedly.

Bobby was fine, except for some water up his nose. From the way he carried on though, you’d have thought he broke his arm.

Your mother lowered her voice, as though magic was something to be mentioned only in whispers. For the first time, a sense of shame crept over you. Your dad had always been open about magic, though stern. Stern in his belief magic should help people, not hurt. Never once did your dad insinuate magic itself was the problem.

Magic is dangerous.

Your mom’s words on the phone sank in as, your head pounding as you turned around to run up the steps. Even at six, you felt panic. If magic was dangerous and you were magical – that meant you were dangerous, too.

Slipping beneath your comforter, you stared at your shaking hands. Rain hit your windows, snowballing your worry to full-on fear. By the time your mom rushed upstairs, you were rocking under the covers as a storm raged.

She helped to calm you down, got your magic under control and a month after, you moved far away from the sea. A version of yourself vanished as you passed the pier. Despite this, you felt instant relief at the thought of control.

You remember your mom smiling when you joined the highway. “This will be good,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A fresh start, away from it all. You can be whoever you want to be, Y/N.”

Except for the person you actually were.

Her meaning was clear, even if she didn’t say it out loud. At the time, you found the thought soothing. If you didn’t want to use magic, you didn’t have to. You never had to become your dad, who all your friends said had caused the bad storm. Even the news had turned against you.

Earth Elemental suspected behind San Raoul earthquake!

Jailed air Elemental claims innocence against onslaught of tornadoes!

Fire Elementals flee after string of arson!

Always the exclamation point. Always the lurid fascination that blame could be pinned on a single person. New rules were implemented in the house. No magic, except in your mom’s presence. This soon became no magic at all, but you didn’t mind. Whenever you did use magic, it felt wild, chaotic – the opposite of how you wanted to feel.

Your early years were marked by the struggle to conceal your powers. Years passed without incident and then, something would happen, and you’d have to move. Your mom never begrudged you, simply packed the house to travel to the next city. Each time, you promised you’d do better but by the time you realized school wasn’t for you, you had moved no less than six times.

Art was a risk, though one you found necessary.

Creation meant tapping into emotion, but you found methods of coping. Painting was the only place you loosened the reins on your magic, and so it became an outlet of sorts. A release, preventing your emotions from spilling into unwanted places.

There were other strategies, as well. Deep breathing. Counting backwards from one hundred. Focusing on one point, then on another until the magic calmed in your veins. Until you forgot the dangerous and destructive water around you.

Some people proved more reactionary to you than others. With some people, your magic responded so strongly, you were forced to cut them out completely. The first person this happened with was your best friend, Katrina. You were fourteen when she confided in you her family was fire Elementals. In response, your magic surged.

For a glorious summer, you practiced magic in secret. Each morning, you and Katrina bounded through the woods towards the far creek. You summoned great waves of water for Katrina to singe into mist. Everything was fine until late one evening, your mom caught you. She witnessed the combined magic and lost her temper.

Dragging you from the woods, your mom slammed the front door in Katrina’s face. She sat you down at the kitchen table, delivering a scolding you’ve never forgotten.

Do you know how reckless you were? What if a tree had caught fire? What if you altered the town’s water supply? What if someone saw and the next time a disaster happened, they blamed it on you – or Katrina?

Stricken by these very real possibilities, you promised not to do it again. Although you begged not to move, your mom packed the next day – your fastest exit ever.

The second time you cut someone out was after high school. Elliot was an artist, a quiet guy who dabbled with oils. He saw you painting one day in the park and silently set up his easel beside yours. This happened for weeks until he asked you out. Your ensuing romance was brief and sweet, and your feelings grew within a short period of time.

When Elliot told you he loved you, you dissolved into panic. You could feel how your magic responded, reaching for water that surged through his tiny apartment. Tossing on clothes, you stammered apologies and fled into the night.

For weeks following, it rained. Enough for the reporters to forecast local flooding. The fact terrified you – imagining people trapped on top of cars, small businesses flooded, the Red Cross called in to ferry locals to safety. It took your mom flying out to put you at ease, clearing the skies and regaining control.

Since then, you haven’t let anyone else past your inner walls. Until Jungkook.

Swallowing hard, you stare at his apartment and wonder if you’ll survive. Breaking up with Elliot is one of your worst memories and you only felt a fraction of what you do for Jungkook. Maybe you’ll conjure a hurricane, bringing the events of your life full circle.

Shutting your eyes, you rub at them dully. There’s no point in wondering what-if. You need to end it now, before things get worse. All day, you’ve gone over the facts and arrived at the same conclusion.

As expected, Jungkook was livid about Pierre last night. He wanted to confront your boss himself, although quickly backed off when he realized this was your battle. This though, turned to confusion when you said your intent to do nothing.

Although you tried the usual excuses, none of them stuck. Even if it was just once, Jungkook argued, it shouldn’t go unnoticed. You snapped slightly at this, insisting you’d deal with things in your own time.

Getting angry near Jungkook was peculiar. Suddenly, you became aware of the water around you. Thick, leaden pipes lacing Jungkook’s walls. Moisture that hung in the air, in the clouds – within his very veins. The thought terrified you, wondering what you might do accidentally.

Your panic must have been visible, because Jungkook instantly softened. Crossing the room, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “It’s just… I hate seeing you hurt. Of course, you know what’s best. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

His grip grounded you, enough that your magic dissipated, and that you realized a truth you’d hidden for some time.

You were in love with Jungkook.

No one in your life had ever been like him. Someone who was always in your corner, who protected you when they could and lifted up parts they couldn’t. Someone who liked everything about you – even the parts you weren’t brave enough to admit.

Studying his face, you tried to ignore the sudden ache in your chest. Even last night, you knew the inevitable. Memorizing his face, you tried hard to hold on. Jungkook’s slightly rounded nose, his full bottom lip accentuated by two piercings. Dark hair fell over his forehead; strong features contrasted by a soft gaze.

Jungkook watched you as well, and you wondered if he felt the same. Wondered why he’d commit you to memory, since you were the lucky one. He was the miracle, and you were biding your time.

Bending, he lightly brushed your mouth against his. Instantly, you melted. It wasn’t your first kiss and prayed it wouldn’t be the last, but something about last night felt different. Walking the two of you backwards, Jungkook pressed you against the wall and kissed you harder. His touch became desperate, one hand sliding beneath the lines of your blouse.

Your breath hitched at the brush of his fingers, delicious and warm against skin. His touch unknotted a hidden, tangled piece of your soul.

Ever since you met Jungkook, you’d held yourself separate. When you asked him to go slow in the beginning, he agreed. Touching was fine. Kissing was fine. Anything more, and you lost control.

About a month into dating, you met Jungkook at a bar and got tipsy. Three drinks in, you were frantically making out in an alley outside. Jungkook panted, “my place?” against your mouth, and you nodded. The journey back to his place was fast and slow, pausing in every dark place to drag his mouth to yours.

The second his door shut, you found yourself stumbling – into his bedroom, his bed, the confines of his heart. Shoes were discarded with every step, and Jungkook couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. You returned his fervor in spades, nipping his lower lip to watch him smile.

When he fell back on the bed, you saw his pulse quicken. Staring up at you, Jungkook watched your clothing disappear with a gaze so dark, it bordered on onyx. Climbing onto him, you resumed kissing with a newfound reverence. Eyes falling shut, you did your best to stay present.

Each brush of his lips was combustive, each touch of his hands filling you with sharp, pulsing light. And then –

The sink and shower in his bathroom burst on.

Startled, you pulled away and realized it had been you. Your magic had caused it, flooding his bathroom with water. Swearing under his breath, Jungkook scrambled out of bed to hastily turn off both faucets.

You sat there on his bed, heart pounding with fear. By the time he returned, you were already dressed and mortified. Jungkook was all apologies, certain he’d moved too fast, but you assured him he hadn’t. Anything that happened, you were an equal participant – too much maybe, although you didn’t say so out loud.

Lying in bed that night, you stared up at your ceiling. For a moment, it felt as though you were six and under the covers at your old house. Magic was dangerous. You would eventually hurt someone. Dread pooled in your stomach, recognizing the truth. If you couldn’t control your magic around Jungkook, you’d have to end things.

Heartache chased the thought, filling you with so much panic, you nearly drowned. Pushing this aside, you simply resolved to do better. To be better and keep both Jungkook and magic. This was simply another challenge; you owned your magic, not the other way around.

Thus, began the two best and worst months of your life. The best, since you’ve been dating Jungkook and the worst, because at every moment, you’re terrified of hurting him. Walking a line as thin as a razor, you’ve fallen in love while trying your best not to feel.

Until last night, you thought you’d been successful. Life was mostly under control, but then the Pierre debacle took place. Then Jungkook kissed you with such intensity, you forgot who you were and why you’d been holding back. Two long months of restraint and suddenly, you came undone at the seams.

Before long, you were again in his bedroom. Jungkook stripped off his clothes, bare skin pressing to yours with a searing intensity. Pulling you over him, a low hiss escaped while he kissed your throat. Even through his boxers, you could feel how hard Jungkook was. How badly he wanted this; a need you returned.

The thought of him inside you made you frantic. Pushing Jungkook onto his back, you straddled his waist and rocked forward.

Jungkook lay underneath you, his hair a dark halo. Suddenly, you could feel water everywhere. Magic, everywhere – it was in you, around you, in Jungkook’s walls and molecules. Everything felt so utterly fragile, and your magic responded.

Ferocious, it strained at your self-crafted bonds. Realizing how precarious your grasp on control was, your emotions slipped into panic.

You had to leave. Now.

Sensing the change in your body, Jungkook paused.

“I – I’m sorry,” you blurted, scrambling off him. Bending for your pants, you pushed one leg through and hastily zipped. “I need to go.”

Jungkook stared, frozen in place. “I…” Shaking his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

Stomach dropping, you roughly shook your head. Part of you ached to correct him but your magic was barely leashed, and you weren’t certain how much longer it’d hold.

Your magic wasn’t something you wanted Jungkook to see.

Frantically throwing on your shirt, you rushed towards his front door. His dog, Bam, whined from the couch and lifted his head as you passed. Yanking open his door, you escaped to the hall and downstairs. You heard Jungkook call after, but he didn’t follow, for which you were grateful.

Remembering his face broke your heart as you entered the subway. You kept your magic at bay until reaching your building, at which point rain swept the city in waves. Soaked through, you got in the elevator and saw Jungkook had texted. Shaking, you responded you’d talk to him tomorrow and turned off your phone.

Rain poured all night and you barely slept. By the time you woke, your mood had gotten worse. Work was torture. Even the lunch shift couldn’t save you, the looming specter of Jungkook impossible to forget. When Pierre showed up around one, you knew you were doomed. His glower could be felt all the way across the restaurant and no matter what you did, you somehow stayed in his way.

With little to no sleep and haunted by last night, the grip on your magic was tentative at best. Your entire shift, it hovered at the edge of your fingers. When Pierre commented you looked tired, the rain outside worsened. When a table of middle-aged men called you ‘girlie,’ their water glasses shook.

It was miraculous nothing happened until the end of your shift. That was the moment Pierre’s friends arrived, seating themselves at the table you gave away last night. One of them laughed as you poured them water, and you managed to push down your snide remark.

Glasses full, you turned around to go and the same one grabbed your waist.

You went still.

For so long, you’ve hidden your magic to protect others. You’ve kept them from hurting and there you were, broken, and no one cared about you. Just like no one cared about your dad, in the end. Teeth gritted, you whirled – and the entire water pitcher dumped itself at him.

At him, not on him.

You didn’t trip. Didn’t throw the water, although either would have been preferrable. Instead, the water leapt from the pitcher to slap the man in the face.

Horrified, you stared as reality sunk in. You had just assaulted a guest – a friend of Pierre’s, at that.

Shocked, the man wiped water down his visage. The entire restaurant fell silent, every eye in the room locked on you. Panic-stricken, you stammered an apology, flung a napkin on the table and fled into the kitchen.

The moment you crashed through the doors, you were hailed a hero. Izumi, your line cook, wistfully recalled the one time she punched a guy who grabbed her ass. Georgina added that once, she spit in the drink of a man who called her a bitch.

Both tactfully avoided the fact that you were an Elemental, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel marginally better – maybe you wouldn’tbe fired, after all – when the door to the kitchen swung open and Pierre stormed through. Seeing his face, your heart sank.

“You!” Spittle flew from his lips as he pointed. “Y/N – pack your things! You’re done here. Fired. You think you can insult my friend, pull some magic bullshit on him, and continue to work here? Fuck that. Get out – now!”

A pin could have been heard in the silence. Coming to your senses, you did exactly as asked and got your things. Pierre hadn’t mentioned pressing charges, and you didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

Outside, you stood on the sidewalk and stared at the bus stop. Storm clouds brewed above, a visualization of your inner turmoil. Eventually, you turned and trudged down the subway.

Things had reached a point you couldn’t ignore anymore. You were beyond out of control. Emotions surged and strained against your internal walls, threatening everyone you held dear. The city didn’t deserve to be punished, even if no one within it knew of your sacrifice. Pierre’s friends were awful, but you could’ve just as easily lost your temper with someone you loved.

Someone like Jungkook, whom you couldn’t seem to be around without incident.

That was the reason most people feared Elementals. It was selfish of you to put your desires ahead of another person’s safety. The only way to protect someone you loved was to stay away.

Starting with Jungkook. You just wished he didn’t have to get hurt in order for that to happen.

Standing outside his building, you take a deep breath and press the buzzer. You wait for several long moments, wondering if he’s home and then –

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Leaning in, you press 316. “Hey. It’s me. Y/N.”

A weighted pause, and then –

“Come in.”

The door unlocks, and you push it inside. Climbing the steps to his place, your heart starts to pound. The last time you saw Jungkook, you were running away. The last text he sent was, ‘ok,’ in response to your message. If you were Jungkook, you wouldn’t be thrilled to see you.

Coming to a stop outside 316, you lift your hand and knock. A howl responds, followed by the patter of gigantic dog footsteps. Unable to stop your smile, you shake your head at the chaos.

“It’s just me, Bam!” you say, and he stops.

Bam’s howl is replaced with a whine and the sharp thwack-thwack of his tail on the door.

“Bam, out of the way,” Jungkook calls, his voice coming closer. A few seconds later, the door flies open to reveal your boyfriend.

You only catch a glimpse before Bam barrels out, nearly knocking you over. Legs and tail akimbo, he slobbers all over until you bend to pet him. Once satisfied, Bam turns around and trots back inside.

Silence falls between you, and you look up to see Jungkook. He’s dressed casually, sweatpants and a t-shirt bought at a concert you attended. He hasn’t moved aside, blocking you from entering.

Uncertain, you straighten. “Can I come in?”

Slowly, he nods and moves. You walk past him, trying not to focus on the heat of his shoulder. This might be the last time you see Jungkook, so you try to focus on that. Not the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Hearing the door shut, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I can’t stay too long,” you admit, digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

Jungkook regards you warily. His expression makes your chest ache, unused to him with such a stern expression. After last night, you suppose it’s earned. You should probably get used to it.

“Y/N.” His jaw works. “What’s going on?”

Deciding honesty is the best policy – up to a point – you force out your next words. “I think we should break up,” you say in a rush.

With a low whine, Bam slinks in the direction of the bedroom. Jungkook glances at him, distracted, before facing forward.

“What do you mean?” His head tilts. “Like, you want to take a break?”

Steeling yourself, you shake your head. “No. As in, I want to break up. Permanently.”

A train passes by the building, rumbling the floorboards underneath. Most people would avoid living in this building for that reason, but Jungkook was overjoyed by the prospect of discounted rent.

He doesn’t seem overjoyed now, though. Instead, he looks stricken.

“Walk me through this,” Jungkook says, walking closer. The set of his mouth has turned stubborn. “I don’t follow. Why are we breaking up again?”

The knot in your chest tightens. You should have known Jungkook wouldn’t make this easy on you. “We’re not good together,” you say, only to correct yourself. “I mean, I’m not good for you. I’m not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

He comes to a stop. “I can wait, Y/N. I don’t mind.”

Reaching for you, Jungkook’s brows crease when you take a step backwards. His hand falls between you, and he stares at the empty space. The crack in your heart widens, made worse by his silence.

“I mind, though,” you force yourself to say. “I can’t ask you to wait for me, Jungkook. That’s not fair to either of us. It’s too much pressure.”

The words make your heart splinter, reaching a point you aren’t sure can be reassembled. Maybe the pieces will simply lodge in your muscle, bruising your insides each time you draw breath.

“I won’t pressure you,” Jungkook says, automatic. His frown deepens. “Tell me what this is really about, Y/N. Is this about sex? It’s fine if we don’t have it.” Stepping closer, he takes your hand and you let him. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

Somewhat manic, you shake your head – and then nod.

Sex is a part of the problem, but it’s not the root cause. Sex with Jungkook is unthinkable. You can barely remain in control when you kiss, let alone allow more. With your past partners, this wasn’t an issue, but your past partners weren’t Jungkook.

Never have you met someone able to scramble your thoughts with a kiss. Whose gaze melted inhibitions and tore down every wall. You have little doubt that with Jungkook, you’d lose full control, and the thought is terrifying. Already, your makeshift barriers are weakened.

Rain splatters against the window, and your stomach lurches.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Jungkook says, returning your attention to him. “What’s this about? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

He takes your other hand, and you realize how close he stands. “Is it work?” Jungkook asks, a crease between brows. “Is there… some reason you can’t quit? You can tell me, Y/N.”

An odd zing of disappointment goes through you. For a moment, you thought Jungkook had guessed your secret, and this could all be avoided. If Jungkook knew what you were and that you lied to him – well, he’d end things for you. Hesitant, you consider revealing that truth but can’t seem to form words. It would devastate you, seeing fear replace love in his eyes.

“Work isn’t the problem,” you say at last. “It’s us, Jungkook. Or – it’s me. I don’t want to be together anymore.”

Disbelief flashes across his expression, and you idly wonder what will happen if Jungkook refuses. Even as you think this though, his expression shifts. Jungkook takes a careful step backwards, dropping your hands entirely.

He’s never been good at hiding emotion. Jungkook is your opposite in that way, revealing every shift of thought and desire. You watch confusion become anger, then bitterness a moment before he turns away. The set of his shoulders is still, staring out the window as yet another train passes.

Restless, he turns to drag a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe you,” he declares. “This is so out of nowhere, Y/N. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything,” you say, panic rising. “And this isn’t out of nowhere! I’ve been telling you for months I need to take things slow and this – well, this is the opposite of slow, Jungkook!”

Jungkook stares back at you, heated. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, the tension thick in between you. Eventually, you look away first and pull your bag tighter.

“Right,” you exhale. “Well, I should go –”

Striding forward, Jungkook reaches you to cup your face with both palms. Gently, he lifts your face towards him, and all thoughts cease completely. Gaze searching, his breath fans across your parted lips.

Jungkook’s gaze intensifies. “I don’t believe you,” he murmurs.

Adrenaline zips under your skin, stirring your magic into a deadly storm. Entire body tense, you suppress the urge to fight or flee. So often, you’re the one running but right now, you feel more compelled to fight.

A knife in you twists, knowing you’re a coward. If you were stronger, you could keep Jungkook. No matter how understanding he is, the fact remains that if he stays with you, Jungkook remains in danger. Each passing day only worsens the pain.

His face blurs. With a start of surprise, you realize there are tears on your cheeks. The furrow between Jungkook’s brows deepens, noticing as well.

“You’re not listening,” you blurt. “I can’t see you any longer, Jungkook. It’s in your best interest, I promise – I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

Reaching up, you remove his hands from your face and head for the door.

Jungkook follows close behind. “Which is it, then?” he demands. “You want me to go slowly, or you feel too much?”

Pressure weighs every inch of your skin, demanding you answer. Anything that comes out now will only make things harder. Reaching the door, you feel Jungkook’s hand on your shoulder. Caving, you don’t fight when Jungkook turns you to face him.

He’s too close to you. Too much and too close, his one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck. Slowly, his thumb strokes the elongated line of your throat. You swallow, hard, and his gaze follows the motion.

Jungkook’s gaze flicks to yours. “You keep saying you’re no good for me,” he says, his voice low. “But what if I don’t care? Don’t I get a say in this decision?”

The force of holding in your magic worsens, becoming near impossible. Hastily built walls threaten to collapse, and reality blurs between one moment and the next.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, your hand searching behind you. “I have to go.”

Finding the doorknob, you twist and stumble backwards. Jungkook watches you go, the look on his face physically painful as you turn around. Each second that follows is pure concentration, trying not to break before getting outside.

The ocean is only a few blocks from Jungkook’s apartment.

Reaching the harbor, rain pelts your face in a way that feels punishing. Magic makes your limbs tremble, escaping your body in wisps of fog and rain. The moment you arrive at the harbor, you shatter, collapsing forward to grip your knees with both hands.

Eyes pressed tightly shut, you hear the storm howl. Waves churn the harbor, sloshing over the sidewalk in an attempt to get closer. No tidal waves, you plead in an attempt at reason. No whirlpools, no water spouts.

Your magic listens in this regard, at least. By the time your eyes open, a curtain of rain mingles with tears on your cheeks. Staring out at the ocean, each inch of your body is numb.

Jungkook will never forgive you for this.

The thought banishes all the rest. You can’t say that you blame him. Slowly, you exhale as you lift your gaze. The chasm in your chest widens, becoming something unbreachable. This is all your fault. You wish there was some satisfaction in knowing this, but there isn’t.

Eventually, the rain dulls, and you push yourself upright. Your sneakers squish with every step, the silence all-encompassing as you ride on the subway. Entering the building, you remove your shoes and collapse on your bed, fully clothed. Thankfully, your roommate isn’t home, so you aren’t forced to explain the events of tonight. Seokjin would have wanted to discuss, and you aren’t sure you can without breaking down.

Burrowing your face into the pillows, you manage to cry yourself asleep. Rain doesn’t let up the entire night.

“Tell me again.” Taking a seat at the table, Seokjin spoons yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open one eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped forward. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be, though,” he says, pointing with his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away whenever things got bad.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” Seokjin lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you bury your head deeper into your arms. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, his spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. Pushing his chair back to stand, Seokjin heads for the sink and turns on the tap. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better off without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, and close your eyes.

Two days have gone by since your decision to end your relationship with Jungkook. It hasn’t been great, to put things mildly. On Monday, you barely left your room and rain poured from the sky. When you did enter the kitchen, the weather person on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin arrived from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped stop the storm. You sagged with relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embraces their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he was raised to take over their magical consulting business. Said business does well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous, three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and here you are. One of the few people in the city willing to room with an Elemental.

You don’t care what Seokjin does with his magic, although his laissez-faire attitude can occasionally be unnerving. You’ve lived your entire life with the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need is a quick Google search to reinforce this fact. But then there’s Seokjin, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your powers about a month into rooming together. Coming back from a trip, Seokjin opened the door to stare, slack-jawed, as plates washed themselves in the sink. Glancing up from your book at the table, you immediately sent two dishes crashing onto the floor.

Seokjin stared at this for a moment, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he declared and walked into his bedroom. After a moment, he popped his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He slapped the doorframe once and disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand your avoidance of magic, but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until something like this happens and he’s again at a loss.

“Listen.”

Turning around, he shuts the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grimace. “What now?”

Seokjin raises both hands. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant, ‘learned life experience.’ Through mistakes.”

“Was there a question in all that?”

“No question.” Loosely, he gestures. “Just wanted to say you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure this out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insist. I don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Listen.” Seokjin’s smile turns slightly sinister. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh and sit back. “But seriously – thank you. This will give me some time to come up with a plan.”

Seokjin nods, tracing the rim of his coffee. Absently, he glances down the hall at the empty third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you say, automatic.

His right brow lifts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time off to work on my art.”

“Okay.” Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe you did know. But seriously, Y/N – why not?”

Weary, you exhale. “Because every time I try to paint, I get this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I felt comfortable using my magic. Now… I don’t know. I can’t seem to use my magic anywhere. Even my art.”

Seokjin tilts his head, thoughtful. “How long has this been going on?”

“Don’t know – a few months?”

“Not long after you started dating Jungkook.”

Staring at Seokjin, you realize he’s right. That’s exactly around when you began dating Jungkook. The block happened not long after. Thinking about the early days of dating are painful though, and so you choose not to.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare with a shake of your head. “Right now, what I need is a job. And to earn money. Preferably in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order changes. I know a guy.”

Before you can consider his offer too seriously, your phone rings on the table. Glancing down, your heart constricts at your mom’s name. It isn’t that you don’t want to talk. It’s that if you do, Jungkook’s name will come up, and you’ll be forced to explain why you two aren’t together. Right now, you’re managing to cope by avoiding the topic. You aren’t sure what will happen if you’re forced to confront it.

Not to mention the very real possibility your mom will be happy. She liked Jungkook, but she always worries whenever someone new enters your life.

Also glancing at your phone, Seokjin scowls. “Don’t answer it,” he says, walking past. “Whenever you talk to your mom, things get even worse.”

Seokjin’s not wrong. Your mom means well – really, she does – but talking to her tends to leave you exhausted. Still, you know from experience it’s better to answer now.

“I know,” you sigh and stand up. “But if I don’t pick up now, she’ll just keep calling. Hey,” you say, pressing answer. “One second, mom.”

Ignoring Seokjin’s sad shake of his head, you scoop up your coffee and head for your bedroom.

Closing the door to your room, you lean backwards. “Hi, mom,” you say, lifting your phone to your ear. “Sorry about that. I was eating breakfast. How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” your mom says, and you can practically hear her smile. “Same old, same old. The better question is, how are you? I saw on the weather there’s some flooding by you. Hope you’re alright!”

Grimacing, you move the phone to speaker. You should have known your mom would check in. Reading between the lines of her question, you can hear what she’s really asking. Your mom wants to know if you caused the flooding – an answer which is undeniably yes, but she doesn’t have to know that.

Setting down your half-empty mug, you flop face-first on your bed. Less information tends to be more with your mom. You’re debating what to say when she solves the problem for you.

“I know you haven’t had a slip in years,” she continues. “But if there’s another water Elemental in town, you should try to steer clear of them! Being around them could set you off – that’s what happened to Becky’s nephew, she said.”

Fighting an eye roll, you roll on your back. Becky Mayweather is your mom’s best friend in the entire world and one of your least favorite people. She’s the type to bake cookies, offer a shoulder to cry on – and then promptly turn and gossip to the neighbors about it. She fancies herself an Elemental expert because a few of her friends married them. Funnily enough, neither you nor your mom have met these friends in person.

“Oh?” you ask. “I never noticed.”

“It’s true! You know that I worry, Y/N. All alone in the city with another Elemental for a roommate…”

Annoyance spikes in your stomach. “His name is Seokjin, and I’m an Elemental too, mom. His mom could say the same thing about me.”

Seokjin’s mom could be saying that, but she wouldn’t because Seokjin’s mom and dad are both magic enthusiasts. The few times you met them, they were nothing but kind.

“Oh, Y/N.” Your mom sighs. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Watch your tone,” she says. “I’m only telling the truth. You work hard on controlling your magic. Your roommate, on the other hand, uses his magic willy-nilly. In broad daylight! You two couldn’t be more different.”

Your mom isn’t wrong about that, although not for the reason she thinks. Seokjin does use his magic freely, but you’re the one at risk of hurting others – not him.

“Seokjin is a good guy,” you say tightly. “He’s letting me stay here, rent-free, while I search for another job.”

“Another job?” Her voice pitches. “What happened to the job at that restaurant?”

Cursing yourself for your own stupidity, you close your eyes. “Um… I was let go. Difference of opinions with management.”

“Oh. Well. That’s too bad, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s probably for the best – you don’t want to be working for someone you don’t respect, right?”

Some of your anger lessens at her genuine sympathy. It’d be easy to paint your mom as the villain but truthfully, she comes from a good place. You know that she loves you; she just doesn’t want to lose you the same way she lost your dad.

Exhaling deeply, you reach to grab a pillow. “I’ve been trying to paint,” you say. “It hasn’t been going well.”

“No?”

You frown at the obvious joy in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admit.

“Well…” Your mom draws the word out. “We always knew art was a risky hobby, Y/N. Painting. With watercolors. Something could easily go wrong and put you in danger.”

“I know, mom.”

“Actually,” she adds, her excitement growing. “Maybe this is a sign. Y/N – what if this means your powers are weakening?”

Your entire body goes still. “What?”

“Yes!” she says, oblivious to the panic in your voice. “You always loved watercolors because they made sense to you, right? Because of your… well, magic. What if a block means your powers are growing weaker? I wonder if other Elementals ever lose touch with their magic. I’ll have to ask Becky.”

Irrational anger surges within, and you hear the faucet in your bathroom turn on. Hastily, you work to turn it back off.

“You don’t need to do that,” you blurt. “I’ll research it myself. Actually, I should get going – I wanted to apply for some jobs this morning.”

“Oh, yes – good call, honey. You go and apply. Let me know if you need help. Becky has connections with the local university. I’m sure someone could help you update your resume – or even apply, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Thanks,” you say, although it absolutely does not. “That’s a nice offer.”

“Have a good day, honey – I love you!”

“Love you, too,” you say before hanging up.

Dropping the phone onto your bed, you hug your pillow tightly. It takes several long minutes to relax, wading your way through an anxious sea of thought. Although your mom means well, conversations with her tend to leave you feeling drained. Since you were young, it’s felt like your mom has an idea of the perfect child, and they aren’t you.

Eventually, you stand to bring your mug to the kitchen. Seokjin is busy making another pot of coffee, the delicious scent wafting overhead.

Passing him by, you eye this warily. “Isn’t that your third pot this morning?”

“And?” Seokjin reaches for his mug. “You’ve had three cups yourself.”

“Touché,” you sigh, collapsing on the couch.

Minutes later, Seokjin enters the living room and hands you a mug.

Staring into the drink, you say, “Thanks.”

Settling onto the sofa, Seokjin examines you over the rim of his coffee. You ignore him, taking a long sip of your drink. A summer breeze wafts through the window, and with a flick of his wrist, Seokjin sends it back out.

A stab of envy goes through you, although you know it’s irrational. Seokjin always makes magic look easy, but you’ve never found it to be so. Maybe when you were younger, before the crippling fear and anxiety had a chance to set in. The only time magic ever felt normal was when you painted and now, you can’t even do that.

Thinking about painting makes you think about Jungkook though, causing the dull thud in your chest to become a sledgehammer. You miss him. Miss the easy way Jungkook made you laugh. How he insisted on constantly touching some part of your body.

Cupping your mug of coffee, you take another sip and sink into the sadness.

“Far be it from me to dole out advice.” Seokjin interrupts your tiny pity party. “But I think you’re going about this the wrong way.”

Too exhausted to argue, you merely exhale. “What’s the right way, then?”

His head tilts. “I don’t know. But I find it weird your block appeared around the same time you started dating Jungkook. You’ve…” Seokjin hesitates, and you recognize his how-do-I-put-this-delicately face. “You’ve given up a lot over the years, Y/N. Maybe this time, you gave up more of yourself than you realized.”

Silently, you wonder whether he’s right. For too long, you’ve gone through the motions of life without really living. Too scared of letting people in, scaring them off, of being yourself. Perhaps giving up Jungkook will be the final straw. The thought doesn’t comfort you, and you have no response.

After a moment, Seokjin turns on the TV. The morning slips by, though you can’t help but think about his earlier comments – could you control your magic if you tried harder? The moment you think this, you instantly banish the thought. You’ve been attempting for months, and nothing has worked.

With this cheery thought, you allow yourself to sink further into melancholy. Only this time, the water rushing overheard isn’t your friend. You aren’t sure it ever was.

Wednesday morning, you leave the apartment in a haze. You thought that by today, things would be better but if anything, the situation seems to be worse.

Missing Jungkook is painful.

It hurts more than you thought, which might sound stupid, but that doesn’t make it any less true. When you and Elliot broke up, it was sad, but you knew it was for the best and that lessened some of the pain. Now though, each beat of your heart prevents the wound from closing. A tentative scab in one second, only to be torn open the next.

Jungkook always sent you good morning texts. Not because he was up before you, but because he went to bed so late, it was only an hour or two before you awoke. His words were the first thing you read in the morning, smiling sleepily at his rambling. Sometimes, Jungkook would include a late-night snack recipe. Always, he’d end with something he liked about you.

His silence is deafening. Something not even your favorite coffee shop can fix, although you try. Standing in line, you aimlessly flip through songs on your phone. Today, you promised Seokjin you’d attend at least two interviews. The first one is in an hour at a sushi restaurant. Before then, you plan to load up on caffeine and organize your thoughts.

When the line moves forward, you flip to your messages. No new texts. Unsurprising, but it rends the scab in your heart anew.

Facing forward, you remove an earbud to order. “Hi,” you say, mustering a smile. “I’ll have an iced americano with rose syrup.”

“Got it.” The barista barely looks up. “That all?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Want a receipt?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.” She nods. “That’ll be ready soon at the end of the counter.”

Nodding your thanks, you replace the ear pod. Cranking your music louder, you wait for your coffee and lean against the counter. The coffee shop is tiny, empty for a weekday after the morning rush. Aimless, you glance over the clustered tables.

Your thoughts are on Jungkook before they can be stopped. You wonder what he's doing, what he’s wearing, whether he’s blocked your number yet from his phone.

A talented graphic designer, Jungkook works mostly on commission and on his own time. He does well for himself – enough to afford rent on his own place. Your mutual creative streak was something you had in common. Not your sleeping hours, that’s for sure.

Jungkook usually slept until nine or ten, then went to the gym before he made breakfast. You used to tease him about that, saying he couldn’t call it breakfast if –

Your heart falters. Jungkook must be on your mind since you seem to have hallucinated him here, at the coffee shop. You blink once, and then twice, but the mirage doesn’t fade, and you’re forced to conclude Jungkook is actually here.

Unfolding himself from a chair, he heads in your direction. Panicked, you glance at the counter, then back up. Your coffee hasn’t finished, which means that you’re trapped. Straightening, you do your best to seem natural and are certain you fail. Jungkook doesn’t just look natural, he is so as he approaches. At least, until you notice his hands in his pockets.

Jungkook does this when he’s nervous. Likely, he’s playing with the inside pocket lining. It hurts, knowing him so well, and not being his. When Jungkook comes to a stop, you stand mere inches apart.

“Jungkook,” you say, his name punched from your diaphragm.

He nods. “Hey.”

Uncertain, you glance down at the counter to check for your drink. Still nothing and, looking back, you tilt your head. “What are you doing here?”

Jungkook’s hands go deeper, if possible. “Getting coffee. Is that allowed?”

Your lips press together. “Sure. Theoretically, you can get coffee. What I’m asking though, is why you chose this coffee shop, five blocks away from your place. Usually, you’re not awake before noon.”

His expression is inscrutable. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

The silence between you lengthens, and not in a good way. You know why you’re quiet but can’t tell what Jungkook is thinking. You suppose that it’s possible he woke up early, forgot this was your favorite shop and went on a long walk for coffee – it’s possible, but unlikely.

At last, Jungkook exhales. “Alright, fine. I wanted to see you.”

“Y/N?”

Both of you turn at the sound of your name. Glancing between the two of you, the barista seems to pick up a weird vibe, dropping the cup to hurry away. Grateful for the interruption, you reach for your coffee and attempt to reset.

It’s not fair of Jungkook, corning you like this. You were already forced to end this once – unfair, making you do so again. Breaking up with him once was barely possible; twice is unthinkable.

“Don’t you have anything else to say?”

His voice interrupts your train of thought and, gripping your drink tightly, you turn.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Like, I don’t know.” His brow furrows, frustration obvious. “Anything, Y/N.”

Behind the counter, the barista fills a tea kettle to set this on the stove. You watch it instead of Jungkook, unsure how you’re going to do this again. The pressure of the water boiling is near tangible, mimicking the internal state of your mind.

Biting your tongue, you decide a safe exit is best. Jungkook will get the hint without you being forced to break his heart. Counting backwards from ten, you exhale and attempt to walk past.

“I’m sorry you came all this way,” you say in a murmur.

You’re nearly past Jungkook when you hear a soft swear. Only one more step happens before his hand grips your elbow.

“Y/N, please,” Jungkook breathes, turning you towards him.

Your gaze lifts and you start at his obvious pain. Staring back, Jungkook searches your face for something unspoken. Whatever he seeks, he must find it, since determination enters his.

You tear your gaze away. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jungkook.”

“I want to know if you were serious about breaking up.”

He’s still holding your elbow.

You must notice this at the same time, but neither of you move. Your gaze returns to his, drawn like a magnet and you realize your mistake when you can’t look away. Romeo’s line about Julie being the sun comes to mind, making sudden sense. You orbit around Jungkook, whether you like it or not.

In the background, a tea kettle whistles. “I meant what I said, Jungkook,” you say, forcing yourself to speak first. “I’m not good for you.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “But why,” he demands, frustration seeping through. You can hear in his voice the long nights of desperation, of little sleep in your absence. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Y/N. What did I do?”

A chasm in your chest opens, hating how easily he jumps to self-doubt. Before you can think better of it, you move closer.

“Nothing,” you say, one hand on his arm. “You did nothing wrong, Jungkook. I’m just not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

“But why not?” His gaze sharpens. “Everything was fine between us until Sunday.”

“Everything was not fine.”

Jungkook pauses, then barrels on. “When you say you can’t be in a relationship… what you’re really saying is you can’t be in a relationship with me.”

“With anyone,” you correct, although you aren’t sure that’s the truth.

Your magic has never been this temperamental. Possibly because this is the first time you’ve fallen in love. Dating someone not Jungkook would be safer, but the thought is abhorrent.

If you can’t have Jungkook, you don’t want anyone. That will be your punishment. Jungkook will move on, fall in love, and be happy with another person. Not you. No one else will compare, and if you can’t now, you doubt you’ll move past this crippling fear.

“You keep telling me that,” Jungkook says, growing heated. “But I’m the one you’re breaking up with, so it’s a little bit about me. You need to give me something, Y/N. Is this about your past? I know you don’t like to talk about your childhood, but I want to know.”

A loud buzzing fills your ears, gaze darting around. You haven’t told Jungkook much about your family, not wanting to invite questions about being an Elemental. The thought of him guessing sparks panic again, and the tea kettle on the stove whistles louder.

“People in my past hurt me,” you say in a rush. Magic itches beneath your skin, begging for escape. “That’s part of it, but not all.”

“What’s all, then?”

Frustration seeps past the wall, and several things happen. Your magic lashes out, a loud noise makes you jump, and the tea kettle shatters while hitting the floor. Water sloshes across the tile, steam hissing as the barista jumps back with a yelp.

Startled, you whirl around. One barista turns off the stove, another grabs a towel while a third finds a broom. Luckily, none of them seem injured – the tea kettle missed their skin. Taking a half-step towards them, you force yourself to stop. Although you want to help, that might make you seem guilty.

Already, the guilt within you is rising. You felt your magic overpowering you and chose to stay. If a barista had been hurt, it would’ve been your fault.

Turning back, you find Jungkook staring at the mess. He looks similarly shocked, twisting the knife in your gut. If he knew you caused this, he’d look at you that differently.

“You see?” you blurt, and he glances in your direction. “Everyone around me gets hurt. I can’t hurt you, too, Jungkook.”

Shoving open the door, you’re halfway outside when his words reach your ears.

“That’s the thing, Y/N,” he says softly. “You already have.”

The door shuts behind you, and you almost make it home before starting to cry. The skies open again above the city.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” you mutter, staring through the window.

The slightly dilapidated Ramen-rama tables stare back at you until the owner walks past. Catching you standing there, he motions you on.

Somewhat chagrined, you trudge down the sidewalk. Reaching a playground two blocks away, you collapse on a bench and attempt to be rational. Four different interviews. Spread across two different days. Each one ending the exact same.

One crappy interview, even two, and you’d understand. But four crappy interviews in the same way? Something weird is happening. Each interview, you arrived, greeted the owner, answered a few questions, and were thus informed the position was filled.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten a job. It was that your interviewers seemed nervous, staring hard at your resume and never your face. They seemed relieved when you left, as though you were liable to break something for fun.

“Hey. Did you interview this morning at Ramen-rama?”

Startled, you turn and find a stranger beside you.

You don’t recognize him; certainly you’d remember if you met before. Dressed in a Ramen-rama t-shirt, his dark hair is gathered in a bun on his head. His hair makes your chest ache, since Jungkook used to wear his like that.

“Um, yeah,” you say, yanking yourself from your daydreams.

He smiles and nods. “I thought that was you. Listen – I overheard the manager talking this morning on the phone while I was unloading the truck. I think he was talking about you, so I thought I should tell you what I overheard.”

Concerned, you straighten. “Uh, okay. What was he saying?”

“He was talking to your old boss – Pierre? Apparently, he’s calling around and warning people not to hire you. Said that you stole from him, or something. Not sure if it’s the same story for everyone, or if he’s making up shit up in the moment.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” The guy’s smile turns wry. “I’m assuming none of it’s true. You don’t look like the thieving type, but the boss is running a business, I guess. Can’t be too careful.”

“Right.” You pause, then shake your head. “I didn’t steal, just so you know. A guest was an ass to me, so I dumped water on him – on accident,” you add.

Laughing loudly, the guy clutches his bicycle. “Wow, I’d love to hear that story. Especially the part about it being an accident,” he adds with a wink, sticking out his hand. “I’m Wooyoung.”

“Y/N,” you say as you shake. “So. Pierre is calling people?”

Brow furrowed, Wooyoung pulls back. “Yeah. Sorry I had to tell you like this. Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to know, but figured I should.”

You push yourself to stand. “I do appreciate it. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem.” Sheepish, he glances down the road. “I should actually get back if I don’t want to lose my job. Delivery,” he explains, nodding towards his bike. “Need the extra income.”

“Makes sense,” you say, forcing a smile. “Good luck.”

Wooyoung nods, then pauses in a way that feels familiar. He’s checking you out, you realize after a moment. Although flattering, it’s instantly followed by a rush of guilt. Wooyoung is cute and in another life, you’d say yes, but in every life, it’s hard not to want Jungkook.

Waving goodbye, Wooyoung climbs onto his bike and takes off. You head in the opposite direction, needing to put distance between you and Ramen-rama. If Pierre is shit-talking you across town, you’ll be hard-pressed to find another job at a restaurant. Owners are notoriously clicky and for how many restaurants there are, there are surprisingly few out of the loop.

Maybe you can ask the coffee shop if they’re hiring. Although you should probably avoid work with water for a bit. This drops your mood, your thoughts turning desperate. You’re so deep in an anxiety spiral, you nearly run into an open door on the sidewalk.

Jerking upright, you stare at faded, golden letters. Creative Courage is spelled in looping cursive over a frosted window. Art supplies fill a display case, while the other is clustered with art of all kinds. You spot sculpture, pottery, painting, and sketches before losing count.

Before you can chicken out, you push open the door.

Stepping in, tiny bells chime to announce your arrival. Soft, ambient light fills the space – a shop that’s two-fold, you realize now that you’re inside. The front sells art supplies while in the back stands a classroom. There’s a class in session now, several artists seated on stools before easels.

“Can I help you?” someone asks, stepping into your path.

Blinking, you focus. “Um, no – thank you! I was just looking.”

“Of course!” The woman beams, reaching up to arrange a clip in magenta hair. “That’s what we’re here for. If you do change your mind, let me know – we’ve got art supplies out front, and classes are held daily in back.”

“Classes?”

“Mhm.” Crossing her arms, the woman nods. “Mostly still life and figure drawing, but we’re hoping to add some more soon. Are you an artist?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

Immediately, you stiffen. “No. At least, not right now.”

Her lips twitch. “Not sure it works like that, unfortunately. Who you are can’t come on and off like a jacket. I like that, though,” she admits with a laugh. “Might borrow it the next time the muses aren’t singing.”

You can’t help but grin. “Exactly.”

Her head tilts, surveying you with unnerving intensity. ��My name is Taryn. I co-own this place with my partner, Micah. They’re the one teaching right now.”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat wistful. “That’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Her smile widens. “So, what was your preferred medium? You know, ‘back when’ you were an artist.”

You can’t help but laugh when Taryn lifts her hands to use air quotes. Some people have a way of making you feel included in their jokes, and Taryn is one of them. She teases you in a conspiratorial way, letting you know she understands. People often call art a labor of love, which can be true but more often, it’s a complicated tangle of love, pain and frustration.

“Watercolors,” you admit. “And my name is Y/N.”

Her eyes brighten. “We’ve been meaning to add a watercolor class for ages. Some of our regulars have asked, but Micah and I are both hopeless. Potter,” she explains, gesturing at herself. “And Micah prefers charcoal. Sometimes sculpture.”

“Wow,” you say. “Those are very different.”

“You don’t say.” Taryn laughs. “Micah likes to keep things fresh. What about you? Have you ever taught be– hang on,” she blurts, her eyes going wide. “Did you say that your name is Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your cheeks heat. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Whirling, Taryn hustles through the front room to duck behind a counter. Digging through several drawers, she pulls out a print to hurry back.

“Is this you?” she demands, thrusting this in your face.

Even cross-eyed and close, you recognize your most popular work. A watercolor series on the majesty and destruction of sea storms. Looking at this makes you feel raw, and so you look up.

“Yep,” you admit. “That’s me.”

Pulling back, Taryn looks at the print reverently. “You’re amazing. Micah was trying to do something similar but couldn’t capture the right feeling.”

Shuffling awkwardly, you shrug. You’ve never felt as though your work deserved acclaim, although it’s nice to know the series resonated with others. One of your favorite aspects of art is how it can be intensely personal but once shared, takes on a universal quality. You find it constantly surprising; how many people seem to share the same burdens.

“Seriously.” Taryn shakes her head wryly. “If you ever wanted to teach a class, let me know. We’d be lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” you say, stuffing both hands in your pockets.

You hadn’t realized your desperation was obvious. Or possibly Taryn is just incredibly good at reading others. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you stepped foot in the art world. Even before dating Jungkook, you felt your passion lagging. It’s been a long time since you wanted to connect with your inner voice, although merely the act of being here calls the tide in your blood.

Dangerous.

Recognizing this, you reinforce an inner wall. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’m not really looking for something right now.”

Taryn nods. “Sure. If things change though, just let me know – before next week,” she adds. “We try to publish our class schedule on the first of each month.”

“Will do. Thanks, again.”

“Anytime!” Beaming, Taryn spins to restock the next shelf.

Realizing your conversation is finished, you continue down the next aisle. The shop’s materials are superb, and your fingers are itching to reach out and touch. Reaching the front, you notice a quote painted over the register: Creativity takes courage – Henry Matisse.

You stare at this for a while, unsure why it hurts. Courage isn’t something you’ve thought about in a long time. When you were younger, you pushed people away because it was safe, but now you find yourself wondering who was that for – others? Or yourself?

Maybe the reason you keep yourself separate is because you are afraid people might leave you. Like Katrina. Or Elliot. Or even your dad.

Suppressing magic was hard at the start. Everything about it felt counter-intuitive but you reasoned doing the right thing often took effort. This is what you told yourself, anyways. It made said effort more bearable.

When you first began painting, the relief you felt was immense. After so long spent ignoring your emotions, you found a space to be free. Your series about the sea was oddly therapeutic, working through complicated emotions; your love for the ocean, coupled with fear of its wild beauty. Similar clashes within yourself about magic. And always, always, the desire for more.

For a few hours though, those feelings could be a part of you. Magic could be a part of you, so long as you remained in control – and with brush in hand, you were.

Only now does it occur to you that maybe, this wasn’t healthy. Maybe you shouldn’t feel the need to compartmentalize, as though certain pieces of yourself can only exist in certain spaces.

Tearing your gaze from the words, you exit the shop and gently shut the door. Pulling your jacket tighter, you head down the sidewalk and let your thoughts drift. Jungkook only saw you paint once, but the memory is hard to forget.

You had just started dating, barely past the stage of calling him ‘boyfriend.’ The constant influx of emotion was difficult to manage, and after a few weeks, you were exhausted. Most of your time spent without Jungkook was seated before your canvas. After one particularly frustrating session, you set down your paint to stubbornly stare at the canvas.

A throat cleared from behind.

Startled, you spun and found Jungkook standing there. His gaze moved quickly to yours, but you realized he’d been staring at your half-finished work. Normally, you felt panic at the thought of someone seeing a work in progress. That night though, the look on Jungkook’s face eased your concerns. Awe; pure and clear.

Yanking down giant, over-ear headphones, you hastily stood.

Jungkook lurched forward. “No!” he blurted, only to halt. “I mean – you don’t have to cover the painting. I liked it.”

He seemed flustered, which made you slightly flustered, but you took a slow step sideways. Eager, Jungkook’s gaze traversed the canvas.

Eventually, he looked back. “Sorry about that,” Jungkook said and walked closer. Warm hands found your waist. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“How did you get in?” you laughed, burying your face in his chest.

“Seokjin.” He paused. “Did he not say I was here? I texted you a half hour ago, but you didn’t respond. I figured I’d stop by, and Seokjin said to come up.”

Softening, you made a mental note to chastise Seokjin later. Tightening your arms, you lifted your head and smiled.

“So.” Jungkook glanced over your shoulder. “This is you.”

This sent a thrill down your spine. He spoke as though he’d known you before, but only on a surface level and now, he understood. Jungkook knew your art was part of you, as much as your heart or your soul. You had often felt the same, but never said so out loud.

Magic swelled, and you pushed it back down, but it was difficult. When Jungkook bent his head, you forgot to be scared and let yourself feel. The brush of his lips. The tightening of his hands. The current within you, swelling against your highest walls.

Loudly, someone knocked on the door. Breathless, you jerked backwards and found Seokjin in the door.

“Hey.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “Wanted to let you know our dishwasher broke. Flooded the kitchen.” Pointed, Seokjin looked at you. “Everything is all good, but I’m calling a plumber tomorrow. Carry on.”

In a flurry of embarrassment, you abruptly ended the evening and sent Jungkook home.

Remembering how the night ended, you stifle a groan and walk faster. Once more, you couldn’t control your magic and put Jungkook in danger. Hardly the creative courage Henry Matisse imagined.

You always assumed suppressing your magic was the best choice. But the best choice for who? Certainly not for you, who lives isolated, inert and in fear of yourself. Your dad used to call your magic a gift, but it’s been a long time since you felt that way.

This memory brings with it a sharp stab of pain. Since your dad passed, fear has replaced any joy your magic brought. Fear of falling victim to the same fate he did. Of others’ rejection. Of failing to live up to your father’s example.

You have little doubt that if your dad could see you now, he’d be confused by your actions.

You push others away in the name of saving them. Again, you think of Jungkook and for once you allow it. The entire way home, you wish that he’d call.

He doesn’t though and eventually, you stop hoping.

By Friday, the threads keeping your feelings at bay are nearly worn through. Intrusive thoughts push against fragile bonds, threatening the haven you’ve carefully crafted.

With more force than needed, you toss clothing into the washer. Your usual laundromat was closed, forcing you to walk five blocks to the next one. Sweaty from suddenly sweltering temperatures, your arms sore from the hamper, the situation does nothing to improve an already crappy mood.

Wiping your forehead with one arm, you slam the door and press start. The machine whirs to life, laundry tumbling in a way reminiscent of your inner turmoil. Up, you did the right thing by ending it with Jungkook. He’ll swiftly move on and find someone else. Down – but you don’t want him to find someone else. You want him to find you.

Teeth gritted, you turn and grab your hamper from the floor. Placing this on the washer, you wearily tug your cell phone from your pocket. By the time you walked home, you’d have to come back, leaving you with forty minutes to kill. You could read more of the book you just started. Or submit your resume to a couple of restaurants.

After yesterday’s disaster at Ramen-rama though, the interview process has stalled. Instead, you’ve found yourself thinking more about Creative Courage. For a brief moment, you even walked into the third bedroom to paint.

You immediately walked back out again, but merely the act was more than you’ve done in months. The thought of creation brought mostly panic, since it’d involve you being honest. Something you haven’t been with yourself in a while.

Because if you were honest, you know what you’d find. You would regret breaking up with Jungkook. Maybe even find that, deep down, you want to be selfish. You want to keep dating him, even if Jungkook gets hurt in the end.

After all, you saw what loving an Elemental did to your mom.

Putting down your phone, you scan the laundromat and find your gaze catching on the person in the next aisle.

No. No, no, no – absolutely not.

The universe – or whoever’s writing your story – must be cruel and unusual, since standing beside you is Jungkook. You’d recognize his head anywhere. Straightening from his hamper, Jungkook turns to face you and goes still.

Eyes wide, he seems stunned until someone slams shut their dryer. Both of you jump, breaking eye contact and time seems to reset. Pressing start on his machine, Jungkook grabs his gym bag and hoists it over one shoulder. He strides towards the exit, halfway there when you spring into action.

Dashing towards him, you cut him off at the dryers. Footsteps slowing, Jungkook meets your gaze with visible confusion.

“Sorry,” he says, tugging his gym bag behind him. The thick, grey strap of it cuts across his hoodie. “I was just leaving. I can come back later if you want to finish your load.”

Again, he tries to move past you, but something inside of you snaps. You aren’t sure what possesses you, but somehow, find your hand gripping his sleeve.

Startled, Jungkook stares.

Equally swift, you withdraw. “I, uh…”

Head spinning, all your words seem to fly out the window. Nothing about this was planned. You have no idea what to tell Jungkook besides I’m sorry, and even this would be woefully inadequate without explanation. Which you can’t give.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” you say at last.

A singular brow lifts. “No? You didn’t seem to think that way on Wednesday.”

You suppress a wince, although you try your best to hide it. “I know,” you admit. “It’s just… this is your usual laundromat. I don’t want you to leave because of me. I wouldn’t even be here, expect the one near me is broken and –”

“Got it,” he interrupts, the words tight. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have to be.”

Swallowing hard, you stare down at your shoes. You know you deserve this, but it’s just so hard to see Jungkook hurting. He deserves to be happy, not wasting his energy on hating you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your eyes start to burn, and you squeeze them shut to prevent a reaction. You absolutely cannot cry in front of Jungkook. Not when you’re the one who started this; the very last thing you want him to feel for you is pity.

“Hey.” Something in his tone shifts, and you hear Jungkook step closer. When you open your eyes, he watches you intently. “What’s wrong?”

A tiny fissure within your chest splinters.

Anyone else could have asked those words, and you would have been able to answer. For Jungkook to do so is unthinkable. You’re the one who ruined this. The one who hurt him, who ended this and still, Jungkook is concerned about your well-being.

“I was fired on Sunday,” you say in a rush. “Before I came to see you.”

He blinks only once before his face hardens. “Before you broke up with me, you mean.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, Jungkook glances away. His expression is taut, and you feel a sharp pang of envy. It’s so easy to read Jungkook. You’ve spent so long hiding your emotions, it strikes you as luxurious how easily he feels.

A muscle in his jaw tics. “Y/N,” Jungkook says, turning back. “What are you doing?”

“What… do you mean?”

Fear spikes your heart, wondering if Jungkook has finally pieced the facts together. Maybe he saw more than you realized at the coffee shop. Maybe he finally knows what you are.

“Why are you… torturing me?” he clarifies, a slight rasp to his voice. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You were fired? That sucks, but it doesn’t make this okay. It doesn’t make us okay,” he adds, gesturing to the air between you.

“I – I know,” you stammer, nearly blurting out something you’ll regret.

Like that you’re an Elemental teetering close to the edge. One who can feel every pipe, every spin cycle within the walls of this laundromat. All of them churning, pulsing, begging for your magic to release the water inside.

“You know?” Jungkook stares at you, incredulous. “Again, Y/N – what do you want from me?”

Since you started talking, you’ve moved several steps closer. Another breath, another reach and you’d be in his arms. Glancing down, you notice how quickly Jungkook’s chest rises and falls.

He’s afraid, you realize. Jungkook’s fear isn’t the same one as yours, though. He isn’t afraid that you’ll see him, but rather that you’ll destroy him.

Realizing this, a barrier within you crumbles. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, somewhat desperate.

“You keep saying that.” Determined, he steps closer and somehow, your hand entwines with his to press against his chest. “You keep saying you don’t want this, but you won’t tell me why. Won’t tell me anything, Y/N – you were fired, and this is the first time I’m hearing it.”

“I couldn’t tell you!” you blurt. “I can’t explain it, Jungkook, but I couldn’t tell you when it happened.”

His gaze sharpens. “Then, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe we are better off broken up.”

Releasing you, Jungkook brushes past you and heads for the exit. You stare blankly at the wall before you, your whole world caving in as your head starts to spin. Magic seeps beyond your fractured walls, flooding your veins in desperate search for an exit.

“That’s not true,” you protest, spinning around. “I’ve told you more than anyone else in my life, Jungkook. I’ve let you in in ways no one else has.”

Jungkook stiffens at the door, his entire body taut. For a single, long moment, it seems as though he might reconsider but the longer you stand there, the more you watch the fight drain from the lines of his shoulders.

“I don’t doubt that’s true,” he says, hand hovering above the doorknob. “But that’s not the same as letting me in.”

He starts to go.

Everything around you becomes white noise.

When you were ten, you passed a famous dam on one of your cross-country moves. Your mom took you to see it, swinging your hand while entering the viewing platform.

The moment you saw it, you went wholly still. Trillions of gallons of water, trapped behind concrete, constantly pushing but unable to break. It felt like your magic. Raw, untamed power contained by a solid wall. You stared for longer than any other visitor, until your mom pulled your arm and said you should leave.

The entire way to the car, your mom was silent and once you were buckled in, she twisted around to see you. “Listen to me, Y/N,” she said, her voice serious. “That dam will only work if the wall holds. If the wall breaks, do you know what happens?”

Silent, you shook your head.

“The water will flood the whole valley. Everyone in its path, all the forest – they’d be gone. The wall can’t break, or bad things happen. Do you understand me?”

Solemn, you nodded because even then, you understood. Although your magical dam was intangible, it held equal importance. You had to hold in the magic, otherwise bad things would happen. So long as the wall was in place, you were safe.

Now though, you squeeze your eyes tightly as the wall starts to crumble.

Emotions break with the force of a tidal wave, racing ahead and drowning all in its path. Memories you thought were long buried continue to rise, crushing you further. Your walls are destroyed in a matter of seconds.

You remember your dad, kissing you on the head before leaving the house. Katrina’s stricken expression when the door shut in her face. Jungkook, asking you what he’d done wrong again.

Each memory drags you under, and you shudder against the onslaught. It takes everything you have to remain standing while your restraint dissolves.

Hands grip your arms.

Surprised, your eyes fly open to find Jungkook before you. His neck muscles strain, yelling to be heard over thundering water. You try your best to focus, to rein your magic back in – only to realize with horror, it might be too late.

The laundromat around you is in chaos. Several ceiling pipes have burst, water crashing down in torrents of water. Already, waves lap at your ankles. Noise filters back in, flickering before solidifying to something substantial.

People are screaming, abandoning their hampers in an attempt to get out. The door has stuck though, unable to open under the onslaught of water. Jungkook yells again, and this time you hear him.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, close to your face.

You stare upward, stupefied. Another pipe bursts, and you think that was you, but it’s hard to be sure. Hard to understand which parts are in control and which parts are not. What particular emotion is holding the reins at any moment.

Determination replaces fear in his face, and Jungkook bends before you have time to blink. In an instant, you’re tossed over his shoulder. A yelp escapes, upside-down but he’s already wading through the aisle of washers.

Jungkook shouts at people to move, but no one is listening. After a moment, you feel him exhale and surge forward. Although you can’t see, the people seem to be moving, so Jungkook must appear confident.

Grasping the door, he pulls on it, hard. Nothing happens. Exhaling, Jungkook grips your waist tighter and mutters, “Hold on.”

You don’t have time to ask why, since he yanks harder and the entire frame shudders. Jungkook does this again and another pipe bursts, drawing your gaze. By the time you look back, the door has budged an inch and water is pouring out. With a final wrench, Jungkook yanks open the door.

People shove past him, rushing into the street with the tide of water. Spinning around, Jungkook shields you with his frame from the wet crush of bodies. His grip never wavers, feet anchored to the ground as though they’ve rocks themselves.

With each breath, your pulse slows until finally, you locate the faint threads of magic. Before, you felt too much at once. The crush was overwhelming but now, you manage to breach the surface. For the first time, you see your panic influencing the tide.

Realizing this, you reach inward and try to – turn. With great effort, you identify the source of your power and disconnect. Water in the ceiling slows to a trickle, and then, nothing.

Exhaling against your neck, Jungkook’s hand moves lower.

You can’t help but shiver. “Jungkook?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Could you… you know, set me down?”

“Oh.”

Somewhat sheepish, Jungkook lowers you to face him. He doesn’t step away, and neither do you. If this is the last time you see him, you want to be selfish and make it as long as possible.

He stares back at you, waterdrops caught between his lashes. In the background, water continues to drip from a pipe. The soft plink-plink echoes the thud of your heart.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Jungkook’s hands remain on your waist, his touch scrambling all semblance of sanity. You aren’t sure how to answer without being honest.

Truthfully, you’re not okay.

An okay person wouldn’t break up with their boyfriend and then, six days later throw themselves in their path. An okay person wouldn’t be hiding their magic, they wouldn’t be lying to the person they love and most of all, wouldn’t continue to place that same person in danger.

Silent, you survey the aftermath of your outburst. Deep down, your magic itches in response to your panic. Seeping outward, it seeks to mold to the fear, but you manage to stop it. Something about the wall being gone makes your power less alien. No longer an unknown variable, but a constant.

“No,” you exhale. Steeling yourself, you take a step backwards. “No, Jungkook, I’m not okay. I… this is exactly why you should stay away from me. Bad things happen, and I can’t control them. I’m so sorry.”

Again, you brace yourself for his anger, but it never comes. Jungkook is unusually quiet, head cocked to one side. He sees right through you, a sensation unnerving enough that you drop your gaze.

“I should go,” you repeat, stepping around him. Reaching your washer, you hastily unload your soggy clothing. “I have to go.”

Jungkook says nothing, although you feel his gaze on the back of your head. Hefting your hamper, you slam the door shut, and turn. The water level at your ankles has dropped, no more than a centimeter remaining in the room.

Sirens wail in the distance, likely on their way to investigate. Your stomach lurches, recognizing the cost of your magic. As soon as possible, you should reach out to Seokjin. His company might be able to cover the damage if the laundromat can’t.

Nearing the exit, you look anywhere but at Jungkook’s face. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, unsure what else to say. “Really, I am.”

Again, he lets you move past. Water rushes out when you open the door, seeking the street, then the gutter. Hurrying past, you can’t shake the feeling something has changed.

Not only with you and Jungkook, but with you and your magic. Silent, you prod the place deep within from which your magic stems. You’re used to a wall, feeling closed off but now, it seems your mom was right.

Once shattered, the dam can’t be rebuilt.

A weightlessness accompanies this that you didn’t anticipate. Despite the terror of your outburst, there was a moment near the end when you stopped it. When you felt what was wrong and controlled your outburst of magic. You haven’t done that before.

The thought is followed by regret, remembering Jungkook. When you broke up, it was supposed to save him. Instead, you’ve only put him – and yourself – in greater danger. Maybe because you’ve continued to see him. Everything would be fine if you moved or kept your distance.

But then, another part of you wonders if you were wrong from the start. Maybe instead of providing distance, you should have come closer. Should have allowed Jungkook to decide whether he wanted to stay. After all, today, he experienced the worst of your powers, and he didn’t run. If anything, he moved closer.

Suddenly exhausted, you hail a cab. The driver grumbles at your wet clothes but allows you inside, and you tip him extra upon reaching your place. What you should do is find another laundromat and finish your load, but there’s an itch in your fingers you haven’t felt in some time.

Dropping your hamper at the door, you shutter yourself within the third bedroom. Not allowing yourself to second-guess, you sit down at your easel and pick up a brush.

For the first time in a long time, you allow the magic to flow. You paint.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part II, here.

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts au #bts fic #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction

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gangplanksorenji · 11 months ago

Text

Kinknuary Day 6: Begging

Pairing: (G)I-DLE Yuqi x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,223

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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“Yuqi, you can’t just buy everything you want—”

“But can’t you see? I have it all over me.” Yuqi brags about the plethora of shopping bags she’s carrying, knowing that it will slap you towards what she has mustered but you need to slap her back to reality. So, gripping her wrists and forcing herself to be in level with you, you glared at her, laced with venom as you’re not having this bratty attitude of hers.

“Listen here you little shit—you can’t buy anything of these without my money, so, you should be obedient about everything I say because my asshole doesn’t shit money and if it would, there’s a fucking limit, do you understand?”

It’s like Yuqi never knew about limitations as she will utilize what she can to get what she wants and you hate it yet there’s an optimistic side of this, is that, she’s doesn't force things out of your pocket because she rather begs for it until you agree and that’s your weakness—her, alone. Her charisma is off the roof, with even the people you pass by with her, some can’t help but get their attention stolen with Yuqi’s beauty as she’s glamorous as always and you can’t blame them with that.

Yet you know that enough is enough, and she should be taught a lesson even though it will fall deaf on her ears.

“But please—can I have at least shop for one more time, please??”

No matter how much she begs, or lures you in to play the game that definitely she’ll win, she won’t succeed with her current wants, leaving it only for her to imagine and not grasp it within her reach.

“I told you, Yuqi, we can’t—maybe someday—”

“Aish—you know what? It’s fine, I got what I needed anyway—can we just go home now?” Yuqi chides boredom as she doesn't get to succeed with her attempts, earning a faint smile on your face. She’s mildly irritated because of you—it’ll grow until it becomes unbearable to take—and you know she’s running out of options, so you took it as an advantage.

“Why don’t we just go around the place and have some fun, Yuqi?”

“Shopping is damn tiring, you know that? I just want to go home…” You’re not falling for another trap just to fulfill and succumb to her possible needs, so you’re doing everything on your own power to convince her of your own wants instead of fulfilling hers—talk about being fair to each other which probably doesn’t exist in her dictionary.

“But aren’t you feeling tired?”

Well, you've thought of enlightenment yourself—you're probably as tired as she is, as if walking for hours isn’t enough, then you don't know what is—and you’re afraid to agree with her. You don’t want to lie or make yourself a hypocrite towards her but it is the truth—you feel the enervation yourself and knowing you have the higher authority, you came up to a conclusion in order to close the continuous pleading and annoyance of Yuqi.

“You know what, let’s just go home since we’ve bought so many things today.”

“Ahh, yes! Thank god you agreed with me, daddy.”

Ah, the forbidden word has been used publicly and to think that someone may find it unorthodox, you quickly glared at her, wanting to shut her mouth up because of embarrassment.

“You better not call me that in public, Yuqi.”

“Or what? Are you gonna shut me up with your dick in my mouth—”

You grabbed her wrists and glared at her, this time, it’s much more intimidating and scarier, all laced with venom for her to stop. “God, be careful!”

You didn’t mind your reckless actions as you wanted to prove a point towards her.

“Shut your whore mouth or something’s going to happen to you, Yuqi.”

“Like what?” She confidently taunts you, knowing that you wouldn’t lay down a finger to her, let alone curse her with words full of lustful profanities in public.

“You know what—you’re going to get punished, Yuqi. Go to the car and let’s go home.” Your tone is demanding and stern, almost sending a chill down her spine but despite all of that, she hides a smile, knowing that she’ll soon be reaching that promised land she always wanted. Not wasting some time, she briskly walked towards the car, excited about what’s about to happen and little did she know, you have plans to truly teach her a lesson she won’t forget.

---

A bratty mind is hard to be penetrated with lessons as the iron wall defending is as strong as her ego, and you’re willing to break it yet, if it means for her to be deprived and on the urge of almost breaking that wall, then it’s going to be a successful attempt to teach her.

It’s not like it’s going to be hard—it would take some time because you know how Yuqi always loved you and your cock.

“You wanted to act tough, I’ll show you what’s tough.”

Without the profounded foreplay that she always liked and just being straight to the point, her helpless cries are ignored—bound to break her and truly submit into the abyss of the lowest points. With her wrists tied onto her back, herself in all fours and her clothing yanked off onto where it is—you didn’t where it was because it will be useless right now, no matter how she looked phenomenal with that outfit—her full, naked body is now display as you admire it and worship it, plating soft kisses onto her neck and the fondling of her small, perky mounds that makes Yuqi release such sounds that arouses both parties.

“Can’t do anything, hm? This is what you get for acting such a bitch earlier.”

Yuqi whines uncontrollably within teases of your hands and lips, the sensitivity she feels now off the charts considering how she’s feeling deprived with her needs. You’d love to have her clothing on while teasing the living fuck out of her but this was probably way better than what you envisioned earlier.

“But please, daddy—g-give me what I want…”

She’s straightforward and needy, you can see the desperation in her eyes yet you’ll let her know that everything should be earned and well-deserved. Well, asking her won’t give her anything but feed you information as she didn’t deserve anything, yet.

“What do you even want from me, Yuqi?” You ask her as she moans, struggling to answer back as the skillful display of talent was shown with the way you tease the labia of her wet cunt and the fondling of her small mounds. “You and y-your cock, daddy.”

You chuckled right after, feeling the lack of sincerity within her tone as her voice trembles, voicing her satisfaction as she lets you know that she wants you genuinely and nothing more.

“You don’t seem to be honest about that, Yuqi.”

“B-but I am, daddy! Please j-just please fuck me already. I didn’t strip a-and put on a show for—gahh—nothing, daddy.”

The audacity of this slut—it’s just mesmerizing that even with the utmost pleasure running down her veins, she manages to even retaliate back with disrespect and selfishness, and that further ignites the feeling of punishing her and teasing her. If she wants her needs to be fulfilled, she might have to be patient or beg for it.

“If you really want this cock—then beg for it, Yuqi.”

She looks at your eyes endearingly, her puppy-eyes really flicking the switch into you as she begs for everything that can make her reach her desired treasure. Her voice trembles as she feels nervous begging for you but it’s truly the ravishing essence—her full submission while being helpless to do anything is the hidden beauty and it’s such a beautiful sight.

“P-please, daddy—I’ll do everything—” Her orbs glistens with lust and anticipation, wanting you to oblige on her needs as you can’t seem to pull the trigger;

“—I w-want your cock—to t-tastes it and savor it—please, daddy—” And she mutters up such profanities that further arouses you, an attempt to let yourself gave in to your own carnal needs;

“—Please, daddy—I’ll be your g-good girl just please, I w-want it…” And there she goes—her one, final advancement towards her own needs and for the sake of your pleasure—to pick the lock that you’ve been abstaining and depriving her for.

With the way she begs like she had lost everything, starting from her refulgent puppy-eyes up to her pleading tone, you can’t help but give in to the temptation of fulfilling her needs—most likely your needs since you want to teach her a lesson by fucking that bitchy attitude out of her but not all starts from the climax, it must start with one hell of an exordium.

“You really want it, huh, Yuqi?” Yuqi didn’t hesitate to nod, further encouraging you onto fulfilling her desires. “Then go on your knees, you can do it yourself.”

It was hard to maneuver in Yuqi’s end but you didn’t care. She immediately thrusted herself up, her knees crawling backwards and off the bed, in order to stand up and to get on her knees. The visible struggle was there but she did it nonetheless, her submissive demeanor all for you to admire as she looks helpless with her hands tied onto her back. You then quickly undressed your bottom half—you’d probably make Yuqi to strip it off on you but with her hands tied up, you didn’t bother to kill the essence of an occurring punishment—as you can see Yuqi’s eyes lighting up in awe and hunger, gazing into your erect length like it’s a long-lost treasure she’s always been wanting to obtain and now it’s just a step closer within her mouth’s reach. You then sit down onto the side of the bed, spreading out your legs as you relax yourself to be close for comfort and then command Yuqi to unleash her own masterclass of a show.

“I assume you know what to do, slut.”

Yuqi inches herself closer to you as her face indicates such an analytical approach to your cock, mesmerized and possibly adoring your length as her doe-eyes scan every inch possible. She didn’t bother to tease you as her hands are deemed useless, now her mouth is doing the job of pleasuring you instead of anything else. She swirls her tongue onto your leaking slit that’s already doused with the infamous colorless liquid as she alternates her tongue actions with kisses that peppered around your shaft. You wouldn’t mind her lipstick smudging onto the base of your shaft as she takes you balls-deep in her mouth if it means to give you the utmost pleasure and it’s like she wouldn’t oblige to it—she even want it rough, always taking your whole length until she’s a disheveled, gagged-up mess. With the mouthwork she’s been servicing onto your now saliva-sheathed shaft, you can’t help but moan as she’s doing a great job considering the lack of her hands that could probably make everything better—you know how skillful her hands are; and just by the dexterity of her fingers on her handjobs onto the fondling of your balls, you couldn’t ask for anything more and with that though, you almost regretted tying her hands up but the main mission here is to punish her, deprive her on her needs on your own accord.

“God—your mouth, Yuqi—keep sucking me j-just like that. This bratty mouth feels good—we should’ve done this sooner.”

Of course, she can’t respond with her mouth full of your cock and she won’t even bother to—it was evident, knowing how much effort she’s been exerting on sucking you off seals the deal. The way her head bobs frantically and then burying her mouth balls-deep, her lips being in contact onto the soft skin at the base of your shaft (also add the constant gags that has been resonating around the room) is truly a hypnotic and an arousing sight—this feels too good to be true and you love every second of it. With her current pace, drool inevitably seeps out of her mouth as she doesn't mind the filthiness she’s been luring into as she minds servicing you with her mouth as she seizes the opportunity on her utmost capabilities. Now pulling out of your shaft to give herself a leverage to breathe, she asked you something that she shouldn’t be bothering to ask for as the answer would be obvious.

“Can I p-please suck your balls, daddy?”

“No one’s stopping you, Yuqi—go on.”

Yuqi now averts her attention towards your sensitive balls as she tongues it with care, not wanting to hurt you. To further assist her and to gradually keep up the pleasure you’ve been experiencing, you took your raging length and stroked yourself with the arousing look of Yuqi’s naked, submissive body as she laps your balls in aims to further stimulate you. It is damn working and she’s good at it, considering how her hands can’t really influence or make anything better, she’s doing a great job as every gentle suck onto each testicle earns a ragged moan escaping your lips. She takes this as a compliment as she sucks onto each ball with care as you stroke yourself in tandem with that, further maintaining the stimulation you once gave yourself into.

“Now suck me off again, Yuqi. I wanna see that pretty dick-sucking mouth at work again.”

“Of course, daddy.”

Yuqi returns her mouth onto your whole length again, taking it all in like it was all nothing as a single, immediate deepthroat unlocks a series of gags from hers, which further stimulates you into oblivion. She’s in her own league when it comes to dick-sucking—who would’ve thought that such a cute, classy girl whose demeanor is peak-sophistication is a cockslut? Well, that wasn’t surprising considering how much you influenced her on being herself—being so goddamn hot in every outfit she wears and it’s just crazy thinking about that.

Well, you don’t need to think about it when it’s already within inches close to you—lucky you…

She continues her earlier rapid pace as she fucks her mouth onto your throbbing shaft like she wants to prove something—her worth to deserve you and you only. With her constant gags, fast pace, saliva messing up her beautiful visage and the tears adding up to the sullied mess on her face, you can’t hold the fact of abstaining yourself to your desired peak. Encouraging her for more, you praise her masterclass as you caress her gray-almost-hazelnut locks for stroking her ego.

“God fucking dammit, Yuqi—I’m so fucking close—put that t-tight mouth into good use and make daddy cum—fuck!”

She obviously responded with an incredible pace and mouthfucking, mouthing her satisfaction with constant muffles and gags as you could feel your blood rushing, your peak nearing to an end of its hot pursuit as at last, it was truly unbearable to hold it in anymore.

Yuqi, being the clever girl that she is, buries her mouth balls-deep onto your shaft as you hold a vice grip onto her head, a leverage to the constant pleasure you’re into. Thick shots of warm seed welcomes Yuqi’s slutty throat as every spurt receives a warm welcome from her, smiling as best as she can even with a mouthful of cock and the gags being the cherry on top. You let out fervor-filled moans and groans, voicing your satisfaction on your fifteen-second euphoric release inside her mouth.

“You probably deserved that, Yuqi—would have come onto your face but it is what it is.”

After pulling out and letting out exhausted breaths, Yuqi sticks out her tongue to show your incredible hard work all over it, and then quickly swallows your creamy, healthy load with two gulps, herself struggling a little because of such a marvelous volume of your load. Your load was so much to the point that some seeped out of her chin and onto her lips, you then aiding to help her clean it up as no food shall be wasted, wiping it with your fingers and then directing it onto her mouth and eagerly, Yuqi sucked onto it, not wasting a single drop.

“But I want you to paint my face, daddy—can you please cum on my face, daddy, please—”

“No—” You commanded her to get up as she immediately obliged, inching closer to her as you have a lot of plans in store with her today as her wants shouldn’t be attended first. “—I would want to cum on your face, yes, but girls like you—I don’t even know if you deserve it, let alone inside your tight, little pussy.”

A visible frown and pout is evident on her face, expressing her sadness with your proposition but an enlightenment snaps her back to her delighted self, knowing she’ll get her needs attended to by you and soon, you’ll give in but it won’t be that easy.

“Then just fuck me senseless and cum in pussy, daddy—”

“You fucking slut—” You then grabbed her wrists in order to be dangerously closer to her as you smack her buttocks harshly, earning a sultry whine from Yuqi as the rage inside you is now emanating an aura of fear as she feels it too, eyebrows furrowing as she doesn’t know what to anticipate. “—you’re really that cockhungry, huh?”

Yuqi nods as she lets out a deep sigh of anxiety and anticipation, feeling such a roller-coaster of emotions as she doesn’t know how she could take this situation in a sense that she’ll be relieved knowing that everything is going to be smooth. She kneels down in front of you, and then makes contact with your eyes as those glistening orbs plead for your mercy, to fulfill her needs on your own accord.

“P-please, daddy—I n-need you in my cunt right n-now—fuck, please, daddy!”

It’s the way she begs that makes the difference amongst everything else—those endearing eyes that can get any man lost with its stare and her voice, her deep, sultry voice that’s just the cherry on top. You love seeing herself at her lowest, the point where she’ll beg for anything to sustain her needs and it’s just an arousing sight to see. You’ll note this and would definitely take advantage of her submissiveness just hear Yuqi begging for you.

“P-please, daddy—I’ll do anything just t-to be fucked silly.”

And god you can’t resist the temptation of depriving her needs when her verbal attempts to persuade you onto such sinful acts. You can’t really contain anything anymore as you just hope to ruin her and to fuck that bitchy attitude out of her. Not really going to abstain yourself from reaching your own carnal desires, you command her to get up as you’re about to give in to the abyss of no-return and full satisfaction.

“Get on all fours onto the bed, head down, ass up, and since you’re begging like a fucking cockhungry whore and don’t worry Yuqi—I’ll make sure you’re legs won’t work until tomorrow, or maybe even a week considering how you’ve made me this fucking horny.” Once she quickly obliged to be in position, you swiftly gave her bubble butt harsh spanks that almost left your handprint in it and you’re definitely marking it red because she’s yours and she loves it, so, you won’t even mind stopping even it’s on her own accord—you even vividly remember how she came hard with just your merciless spanks at her butt and your fingers fucking her pussy and god, it’s such a sight to remember. The rage inside you is brewing in such a potent quality that you’re willing to fuck her senseless, no matter what happens. Now getting up onto the bed with her, you kneel down as you spank her again, and then another, consistently giving her a barrage of harsh smacks that every clash resonates around the bedroom. Having enough of it as you successfully imprinted your palm onto her scrumptiously plump cheeks, you avert your attention onto her needy pussy, brushing your fingers off it just to tease her and immediately, she lets out series of muffled moans as her thighs quiver with sensitivity.

“You’re so fucking hot, Yuqi—no wonder why people eye on you like they’re about to fuck you at any given time—shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

No one can blame you for that because with the insane hourglass waist she’ve worked hard to impress you—and sure she definitely did considering how you’re always in awe whenever taking a look of that tone midriff—you can’t help but utter such compliments not just to stroke her ego, but to make her wetter because she’s about to take such force that she’ll give into submission anytime.

You didn’t really waste some time to finger her pussy further, but instead brushed your tip against her pussy and without any warning, you plunge inside her as the both of you moaned in unison, the tightness of her walls nigh-suffocating your shaft like it’s about to immediately milk out a load from you—it’s just pure insanity how her walls grip around your raging member everytime as it just voices her satisfaction whenever you’re having sex with her—and her moaning (almost whining) in delight because of the girth of your whole length that’s not easy to take—you could tell the hint of struggle within her as you can see her hands curling as well as her ragged, muffled moans. You took some time to be accustomed to the tightness of her cunt as not so long after, you thrust in her with a moderate pace that defies peak pleasure. You weren’t getting to harsh on her, yet, because you wanted her to give such time to prepare on what’s coming next and also, you wanted well-paced fucking with a rising action and not to the anticipated climax immediately, although, you want to really give her the thrusts of a lifetime, and it’s not gonna be long until such filthiness is about to happen.

“Mmfh—mfh!”

“What are you saying, Yuqi?” You pull her hair, arching her back, as she lets out sets of profanities that makes her succumb onto the intense pleasure that has been coursing down her veins since the start you’ve laid a finger on her heated core.

“Can d-daddy f-fuck me harder, please?”

Still engrossed onto suckling the porcelain skin of her neck and peppering her nape and shoulders with kisses, it took you seconds to respond and with a hitch of anger. “You really have the audacity to think if I can—” You gave her butt a harsh spank in response to her bewildering audacity as she let out another sultry whimper that made your cock twitch. “—fuck you harder? Well—fuck, you’re tight, Yuqi—really fucking tight—so, you need to beg for it—beg then you may have a chance.”

Muttering up the green light, she didn’t hesitate to let out her wants as you still her head harshly and reduced the pace of your thrusts, wanting her to articulate and hear the best sinful profanities coming out of her slutty mouth.

“P-please, daddy—f-fuck your gi—girl like she deserves it—l-like a bitchy s-slut who a-always wants your cock at—gahh—any g-given time—fuck, please, daddy, fuck the l-living whore o-out of me—I k-know I’m a bitch—a fucking bitch when you teach m-me a l-lesson—ahh, fuck, daddy!”

You didn’t let her finish her sentence because even halfway with her lustful speech is the uncontainable sheer of will to fuck her senseless as it helped ignite the raging flame inside you, your hips oscillating such pace that like a man could never do. You rev your engines, or should I say, your hips in a merciless pace that Yuqi inevitably lets out the most erotic, lustful moans you’ve ever heard on your whole life, orchestrating such a masterpiece that should be composed as a symphony—it’s not like you’ve probably recorded multiple symphonies full of her moans onto your brain and you wish you could record it right now but your focus is now averted towards fucking her. Now, letting go of her gray-hazelnut locks, you grab her mounds as you fondle whilst maintaining such an incredible pace, further lighting up the flame of lust Yuqi’s been into as the stimulation is becoming too much.

“You’ve wanted t-this all along, huh? S-shit, you’re a crazy girl, Yuqi.”

“I c-could never help it whenever d-daddy’s cock fill up m-my tight cunt—fuck, so f-fucking good, daddy—so good!”

Voicing her satisfaction with your wild treatment on her, you continue fucking her like an animal as now, you continued on kissing her back, peppering it with your affection as now, you also added spanks at random intervals between your thrusts and god, it’s making Yuqi insane considering how stimulating all of these are. Every clash of your bodies and jiggles of her thighs sends you into an hypnotic trance, allowing yourself to lure yourself onto fucking her with ridiculous pace.

It makes so much of a difference with her hands idle and just curling because of the intense pleasure, but, it allows you to have more leverage and control over her, considering how she always interrupts you with her hands being all over your back, scratching it while fucking in a mating press position and more, and it’s such an incredible experiment what you’ve laid upon to.

“D-daddy—ahh…”

“Yes, Yuqi?”

Even if you can’t see her expression of plea and submissiveness, you could spark an imaginative figure of it as you reduced the pace a little, giving her a breather to propose something.

“C-can I suck on your f-fingers while y-you’re fucking me, please, d-daddy—please?”

Not wasting time for anymore foreplay, you avert your other hand onto her mouth as she sucks onto your index finger whilst building up the pace again. The stream forming around of your cock signals her utmost satisfaction and pleasure, and with the combined techniques you’re doing to further make it run like a waterfall, it’s almost inevitable for her to hold it in as it drips onto the bed sheets, staining it—you’re gonna need a new set of bed sheets after you’re done with her, that’s for sure. With a harsh grip of her hips to further piston your hips onto euphoria, you continue your earlier wild pace as every clench of her cunt does wonders to your brain, sending you into overdrive as continuous erotic and muffled moans escape Yuqi’s lips. Speaking of clenching, you could tell how close she is to achieving her own orgasm as not so long after, she pulled out of your fingers after multiple gags as she’s now calling out her near high.

“Daddy—I’m g-gonna cum s-so soon!”

Not wanting to deny anything as you can’t stop yourself either, soon, the inevitable will come for her as you gave her the green light: “Then cum for me, baby—don’t hold back.”

To further aid onto reaching her high, you gave her an onslaught of wild thrusts as she screams in delight, announcing her euphoric release. With still your cock buried deep in her pussy, she came hard as streams of her juices flowed around your girth and dripped onto the bed sheets, some on her thighs and your balls. Not really wanting to break the euphoric essence of pleasure, you’re still fucking her slowly and yet, your carnal desires kick in and fucked her like it’s your last, not giving her time to recover from her earlier strong orgasm. With such an incredible session you’ve been into, you want to end this on a better note and with that in mind, an idea comes into your mind for utmost arousal.

“Where do you want me to cum, Yuqi? Inside your tight, little cunt, filling you up to the brim? Or, all over your body where I can paint possibly every inch to show how much of a slut you are?”

Such ways of a hell of a release is such a spectacular sight, no matter what the concluding act is an arousing sight. With your proposal, Yuqi will always want your thick semen to be released inside her cunt, filling her up to the hilt but of course, you would choose the opposite, wanting to hear her beg for one more time.

“I w-want you to c-cum in my pussy, daddy—use me and f-fill your girl up!”

“But I’d rather paint you instead of filling you up, how about that, hm, Yuqi?”

“But, please—daddy, I w-want it inside me, please…”

Being satisfied upon her pleas, you’ve thought of a brilliant idea of seeing her face while cumming, so, you pull out of her which earned an upset whine from her as you commanded her to face you as the grand finale is within your hand’s reach.

“Turn around so I can cum in you in this position.”

“Yes, daddy—o-oh! You’re s-so deep in t-this position, daddy! Please, fuck me hard and c-cum inside my slut pussy!”

Without holding anything back, you immediately plunge your length inside her as the penetration is crazy, filling her up balls-deep in every thrust. You’re fucking her like you meant it and you absolutely did, each thrust earning the most hypnotic jiggles of her thighs as her face expresses numerous emotions containing lust and delight, and soon, it’s about to break loose—the contained damn for ages about to break out, again. With your wet balls slapping repeated against her puckered hole, it just represents the wild pace you’re exerting as you didn’t announce your orgasm anymore, wanting to catch Yuqi off-guard but it’s like she couldn’t tell you’re about to go off considering your constant throbbing inside her tight walls.

You buried your shaft, filling her up to the hilt and immediately, you came, shooting another thick load of your seed deep in her as she moans and in order to silence it, you capture her lips as she immediately reciprocates, sharing such an intimate kiss between your orgasmic trance. Having enough of the battle of dominance onto each other’s mouth, you pull out your mouth of her as you did the same on your cock, meeting a sight of her now-creampied pussy as the sight is just worthy to behold—her cunt mixed with your semen and her juices and some seeping out of her hole and onto the bed sheets. With now your softening cock, you didn’t even bother to let her clean it up; but instead, you opted to pull her into a deep, passionate kiss one more time to voice your satisfaction on today’s steamy session.

“God, daddy—you came s-so much, thank you—hah…”

“Just don’t act like a bitch and you’ll be rewarded like that, Yuqi.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“Don’t even start it—you felt great too, though.”

Yuqi blushes as the compliment makes her lower her guard, not just with the fact that her ego is stroked but with the fact of genuinity laces on each of your words.

“You fucked me great too—wanna clean up?”

“Sure—just please, I don’t wanna have sex in the bathroom.”

“Hah—who knows? Maybe it could be more than that…” God, this girl will never change and it’s like she’s about to take another with her wobbly legs, you doubt she can do anything sexual for now but you won’t mind it—who damn knows, right?

#kinknuary 2024 #(g)i-dle smut #yuqi smut #(g)i-dle x male reader #yuqi x male reader

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edenesth · 10 months ago

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The Way to His Heart [8]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 7 | Fic Masterlist | Part 9

"Sir, the dressmaker has arrived with the mistress' first batch of clothes. Should I send him directly to the House of Lotus?" Jongho asked tentatively from the entrance of his master's study.

Removing his hands from his head, Seonghwa looked up and shook his head miserably, "Lord, no. Send him to me first," The assistant bowed and went to do as he was told, "Right away, sir."

Hongjoong entered the study without bothering to knock, hands propped on his hip as he stared at your husband, unamused, "Would you mind explaining why I'm here instead of presenting the new clothes to your wife, Park Seonghwa?"

"I need advice, Hongjoong." The general croaked, feeling quite lost for once. He had rarely ever been in such a situation; who knew all it took was one woman to put him in such misery. Not even the most vicious enemies he had fought in war could have ever fazed him this much.

He returned from work the day before, enthusiastically sharing his plans for the grand wedding he wanted to give you. However, things went south when he dropped the bomb about the visit to your old home, foolishly believing you would express joy at the prospect of flaunting your newfound happiness to your wicked family. Instead, you were gripped with fear at the idea. You ended up retiring to your quarters early and refused to come out ever since.

Goddamnit, I'm the biggest moron ever.

The dressmaker raised an amused brow, having never seen Seonghwa like this before. He went over to sit down across from his friend, "Hmm, I didn't think you'd be having trouble in paradise this soon. Let's hear it; we'll see if there's anything I can do for you and that lovely wife of yours."

Taking a deep breath, your husband started from the beginning, recounting every single thing that happened from the start of your arranged marriage until the present.

"Wait, you're taking her back to that wretched place? No wonder she's upset, you idiot! You said it yourself; she suffered so badly being caged in there all her life. I mean, sure, your cause is very noble—wanting to make her family pay for what they've done with this plan of yours. But you'd been so focused on that, you forgot how traumatising it could be for her, huh? You really didn't think that one through, my friend."

Letting out a groan, the general pulled at his hair, "Yes, thank you for repeating it all to me like I didn't already know what I did wrong. Now, tell me what exactly it is that I can do to make it all better."

"You're welcome. Oh, I'll tell you what to do, all right. You best keep your dumbass seated here while I talk to her," instructed Hongjoong, watching expectantly as your husband frowned, "What? Why should you talk to her? It's my mess; I should be the one to clean it up."

Sighing, the dressmaker explained, "Look, we all know the only way for you to make things better is to not take her back to the damn house at all. But you do have a point, okay? You've come this far with your plan, and as much as it sucks, she must go there with you in order for this to work out. So, you stay put, and let me convince her to go willingly with you, got it?"

Seonghwa nodded reluctantly, realising his friend was right. As much as he hated how charming Hongjoong was and how persuasive he could be, he would have to rely on those skills to help you see things in the bigger picture. Sure, you were not privy to any details about the revenge, but hopefully, he will be able to make you at least want to stand up to your family for once.

"Lady Park, it's Hongjoong. I've brought your first batch of clothing. May I have permission to enter?" Blinking in surprise, you straightened up, not expecting to hear the dressmaker's voice, "O-okay, please come in."

Despite the anxious state you'd been in since the revelation your husband had dropped upon you the night before, you couldn't help but smile at the unusually colourful outfit of your visitor. Eunsook followed behind him with a group of servants filing in to deliver the precious cargo into your quarters.

The head maid felt relieved to see you smiling again, even if it was only a little. She had been concerned about you after witnessing your retreat into your old shell the previous night, as the fear you demonstrated reminded everyone of your initial arrival.

In an effort to distract you from your upsetting thoughts, the dressmaker quickly pulled out a few designs he thought you'd love, "Come, take a look at this! I made it the way you preferred and added a little touch of my magic. What do you think?"

Fortunately, his strategy worked like a charm, and you immediately moved over to him with sparkly eyes, marvelling at some of the most beautiful hanboks you'd ever seen, even prettier than the ones he had displayed in his shop.

As you admired the clothes in front of you, Hongjoong exchanged a knowing look with the elderly woman. Nodding, she quietly exited your room along with the rest of the servants, leaving you alone with your husband's old friend.

But you weren't entirely alone, of course.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa was right outside, listening intently. He didn't spare any of his servants a glance as they all passed by him with a deep bow, waving his hand carelessly in a gesture to ask them to leave quickly.

"Hey, you haven't answered me. Do you like them, Lady Park?" The dressmaker asked, a teasing smile on his face as he found your endearing shyness adorable.

You nodded quickly, "Yes, I do. I love them. They're all perfect. I just... don't know if I deserve to wear any of these." The general felt his heart clench at your response, realising you were still far from being able to love yourself.

With a scoff, Hongjoong moved to stand beside you, "I'll have you know I only make dresses for people I deem worthy of them. Not just anyone can wear my designs, you know. And you, by far, are probably my favourite client. So that says a lot."

Your husband silently agreed with those words, resisting the urge to rush in there and hold you tight, to tell you that you deserved only the best, that you deserved everything good in the world.

Lowering your head, you fiddled with your fingers before replying in a small voice, "You're only saying that because I'm the general's wife..."

Sighing lightly, the dressmaker turned to face you, "You're not wrong... but that's exactly because not just anyone can be Lady Park. Many women before you tried to be in your position. Regardless of their efforts, he never would have given them the time of day. Yet, he wholeheartedly accepted you."

Recognising the doubt in your eyes, he further explained, "I understand if you think these are just words. But that's probably because you don't know the general like I do. We've known each other since joining the military in our teens. Back then, the Seonghwa I knew would never bat an eyelash at any woman."

As you slowly looked up to meet his kind eyes, intrigued to learn more about your husband's past, he continued, "Those rumours about him being the cold-blooded general were not lies. He really was as merciless as they say. He still is, just not to you. When I saw him again for the first time after years that day, I couldn't believe the man in front of me was the same friend I once knew. He's different around you; he's different because of you."

"It's evident that you're special to him, that you mean something to him. He cares so much about you; do you realise that?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you hurriedly blinked them back. The thought of someone genuinely caring for you still seemed surreal despite the amount of care that had been shown to you since living here. However, you were starting to understand that he was right.

Hongjoong grinned, seeing the effectiveness of his words, "You're the first and only woman who can tame Park Seonghwa, so you are beyond worthy of my dresses."

Before you could even attempt to protest, he held up a hand, "And don't bother telling me I'm wrong because I'm never wrong."

You couldn't help but giggle at his sassy words, and he smiled sincerely at you, saying, "So don't you dare question whether you deserve these clothes. You're the only one who deserves them because these are made only for you, do you understand?"

This time, you nodded with a wide smile.

"I want you to wear my dresses proudly and show the world who you are: the great Lady Park, the only woman General Park wants as his wife. No one will dare disrespect or look down on you again."

Feeling as if he knew exactly what had been worrying you, you felt touched. He was right; you were not who you used to be. You had no reason to cower from your family, recalling their belittling assumptions about your survival in this marriage. Now was your chance to prove them wrong.

With newfound determination, you nodded firmly, "You're right, I will. Thank you, Hongjoong. You're a good friend; Seonghwa is lucky to have you."

He crossed his arms over his chest cheekily, "I sure am. That fool hasn't a clue how fortunate he is."

Mission accomplished.

Pumping his fists in victory, your husband silently cheered outside, brushing off the playful taunts from his friend. Just this once, he would forgive Kim Hongjoong.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

The general turned to you as your carriage came to a stop, marking your arrival at what you assumed to be the Jang estate, your former prison. With a resolute nod, you smiled up at him, "I am."

As you moved to exit the vehicle, your husband halted you. Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed reassuringly into your eyes, "Remember, whatever happens, I'm here with you. You're not alone from now on; I'll always be here to protect you."

"I know, Seonghwa. I believe in you."

His heart melted at those words, and he couldn't resist pressing a lingering kiss onto your forehead. You fluttered your eyes closed, holding onto his wrists, cherishing the warmth he was providing.

"Alright, let's go." Leaving one final peck on your cheek, he got out of the carriage and swiftly helped you down, his strong arm securely wrapped around your waist. Eunsook stood there, mouth agape, that was initially meant to be her responsibility but she realised her assistance was no longer needed at the moment.

Jongho grinned, nudging the elderly woman on the shoulder as they followed their master and mistress into the minister's estate, "Come on, we've got work to do."

Taking a deep breath, you surveyed the familiar surroundings that once made you feel small. Feeling a reassuring squeeze on your hand, you found comfort in your husband's presence.

Yes, he's here with you now.

Nothing bad will happen.

His grip on your hand tightened, and his warm smile, reserved only for you, vanished when a few of your father's servants nervously stumbled out, bowing deeply before both of you, "Good morning, General Park. Welcome to the Jang estate."

The brave front you had put on seemed to falter slightly as you realised the servants here remained the same, showing no acknowledgement despite you no longer being their prisoner. Seonghwa, glaring at the maids in front of him, growled in a low voice, "You've left out Lady Park. Will you not greet my wife?"

Gulping on behalf of the servants, you witnessed the return of the general's intimidating demeanour. Hongjoong was right; he was still terrifying, just not to you.

The maids bowed deeper, "B-but sir—"

"What is going on here?" That voice resonated across the courtyard, causing your heart to plummet to the lowest pit of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't ready to face them at all. Your father emerged from the main hall, wearing an expression that was far from pleased.

You pressed closer to your husband, and instinctively, he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you close. The minister's eyebrow raised in surprise at your refined appearance; he nearly did not recognise you. You were even more stunning than on the day you left this place, seemingly given a complete makeover.

Aside from that, he realised the general had meant his words when he had spoken so highly of you during assembly. Witnessing the intimacy between the two of you, there was undeniable evidence of shared affection. Your father began to question whether marrying you to his enemy was a mistake in the first place.

Seonghwa smirked, "Ahh, Minister Jang, it seems your servants do not know proper manners. They did not greet my wife, and that, to me, is punishable."

The old man felt his eye twitch at the general's satisfied grin before responding, "Well, I'm their master, so I decide what is punishable, General Park."

"Right, well, I'm just looking out for you. Wouldn't want people to find out what rotten-mannered staff my father-in-law has in his estate, not knowing how to show respect to even the general's wife."

"You do realise that before she became your wife, she's my daughter first." Your father sneered, and you felt sick at that, to be called his daughter when you've never once been treated as such.

Remaining unfazed, your husband retorted, "All the more reasons for them to show respect to their eldest miss then, no?"

Jongho and Eunsook bowed their heads in an effort to hide their snickers at the minister's red face flushing in embarrassment. He should have known better than to think he could win the general in an argument, "R-right. What are you fools standing around for? Show Lady Park some bloody respect!"

The line of servants bowed all the way down pathetically, "Yes, master! Good morning, General Park and Lady Park! Welcome to the Jang estate!" They chanted loudly, enough to bring about the rest of your family, coming out to witness what all the fuss was about.

"Very well, let us head in then." With a bored expression, Seonghwa walked into the hall with you, moving right past your stepmother and stepsisters intentionally, paying them no mind as he helped you into a seat before settling down beside you.

All four of the women standing in the main hall were rooted to their spots, eyes bulging as they took in the sight of you and your husband. First of all, you were nearly unrecognisable. If they thought you looked pretty on the day you got married, you were now almost a hundred times more beautiful, though they would rather die than ever admit it out loud.

Beyond your enhanced appearance, they were more taken aback by the general's beauty. He was nothing like they had imagined; he must have been one of the most attractive men ever, or at least the most handsome one they had seen so far.

Suddenly, your stepsisters were even angrier than they were upon learning about your stupid grand wedding. They were now furious with their father for never having told them about how good-looking General Park truly was. If only they knew, they would have volunteered to marry him themselves.

But what if there was still hope for them?

What if they had a chance?

After all, you hadn't officially wed Seonghwa yet and were merely here to discuss plans for the upcoming ceremony. Perhaps, with enough effort, they could still win him over. If a peasant like you could seduce the general, why couldn't any of them? With this determination in mind, the three stepsisters promptly began adjusting their appearances as you all gathered around the main hall.

You didn't appreciate the way your stepsisters were eyeing your husband, although you understood their motives. Sensing your discomfort, Seonghwa moved closer to you in his seat, whispering in your ear, "Are you feeling alright, my dear?"

Nodding lightly, you looked up with a small smile, "I am, as long as you're with me," He couldn't resist smiling at your words as he gave you a gentle peck on the head, "Good."

That should be me!

The three stepsisters clenched their fists, their fury intensifying as they witnessed the handsome general being affectionate with you. It should have been them; the title of the general's wife was more befitting a noblewoman like them, not a rat like you. How dare you sit there in their place as if you deserved it?

In an attempt to break the silence, Jinah cleared her throat and made her move, "Have you been well, unnie? I missed you so much! Did you know how worried I was about you? You must have had such a hard time, especially after you adamantly refused to marry General Park."

Seonghwa raised a brow in amusement, while you remained quiet, unsure how to respond to such a blatant lie. Jinjoo scoffed at your lack of response, "Unnie! Will you really not answer Jinah at all? You've always been like that, so ungrateful when we care so much about you!"

"Really? My wife being ungrateful? That's wild. I cannot imagine her like that at all." Your husband chuckled, holding you close when he felt you begin to tremble.

Jinhee's fists shook with envy as she nodded pitifully, "Yes, that's because you haven't known her well enough, my lord. She can be so scary when she's mad, you know how the eldest usually are."

Minister Jang rubbed a tired hand over his head when he realised what his stepdaughters were trying to do. Of course, these foolish girls would easily be blinded by the general's appearance. Even his own wife, seated beside him, found it difficult to take her eyes off the gorgeous young man.

Jongho and Eunsook, positioned behind you and their master, were making every effort to contain the irritation they felt. The audacity of these women to feign innocence after what they've put you through all these years. They were once again thankful not to have any of these conniving foxes as their mistress.

Rubbing his thumbs over your hands, Seonghwa laughed sarcastically in disbelief, "I'm sorry, I just find that so hard to believe. Are you sure you're not all talking about yourselves?" In an instant, his smile dropped, and he sent your stepsisters a death stare as if daring them to continue spouting more ridiculous lies about you.

Left in stunned silence, they blinked nervously and avoided his eyes, unprepared for his questioning. It was clear that they hadn't planned their silly little act thoroughly.

Damn it, how did that worthless thing manage to gain his favour?

"That's enough." The minister declared firmly, not wanting his stepdaughters to continue embarrassing themselves. All he wanted was to get the general out of his house as soon as possible. Every moment that Seonghwa remained felt like a threat; your father was walking on eggshells around him.

Pushing himself off his seat, the old man addressed your husband, "You mentioned wanting to see the environment your wife grew up in, right? Let's proceed with that before we delve into discussions about your wedding arrangements. I don't have all day."

"Sure, can't wait." Seonghwa responded smugly, standing up with your hand securely in his. A sense of unease washed over you as you wondered what kind of deception your father would employ. Surely, they wouldn't be stupid enough to reveal your actual room to the general. Dread filled you, and you longed to return home.

Your real home, not this nightmare.

« Preview of Part 9 »

As you all followed the minister around the estate while he showed the general what was supposed to be your old room, Jongho exchanged a glance with the private investigator who was still posing as a staff member in the estate.

"This is unnie's room; she has the biggest and nicest one out of all of us. She's so lucky and doesn't even know it. I'm the youngest and I have the smallest room; I'd honestly be happy to have anything at all." Jinjoo said innocently, playing with a strand of hair as she batted her eyelashes at Seonghwa.

You stared blankly at the room supposedly designated as yours. It was merely a guest room rearranged with some of your stepsisters' belongings to create the illusion of long-term habitation. Sensing Jinah and Jinhee's intense gazes on you, you turned to find them glaring daggers at you as if daring you to speak up and disclose the truth to your husband.

If you voiced your denial, who would believe you? It was your entire family against you alone. Would there even be a point in trying?

Just as doubt started to creep in, Seonghwa wrapped an arm around you, reminding you of his support, "Is that true, my dear? Is this your room? It doesn't really seem to be your style at all."

Everyone held their breath, awaiting your response, but you remained silent, fixing your gaze on the familiar space where you spent your entire life, now masquerading as a storeroom.

"What is it that you're staring at so intently, hm? Let's go take a look."

Oh, crap.

Shit will go down in the next part, I assure you. Patience, my dearest readers, patience HAHA this part was focused more on setting the stage for the main event.😈

Also, I've created a mood board for this fic. If you haven't already checked it out, go take a look! I might consider making another one that depicts Seonghwa's estate if I'm able to find the right images.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/3): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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vaultdwellerbarbie · 4 months ago

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hcs: going on a chase (twisters)

ft. boone gabi, javi, kate, lily, scott, and tyler (addy was barely in the movie but let me know if y'all want me to write about her too - i'm totally down! just not sure if anyone is interested)

content warning for tornadoes, imminent danger

divider credit to saradika!

boone

boone is probably the most fun person to go on a chase with! he definitely has a lot of fun with what he's doing and likes to try new things, he'll always keep you entertained.

he's very energetic, so he might get a little overexcited and tease you if you get nervous during it

but, if you genuinely are in danger or terrified of the chase, he'll stop teasing and make sure that you're doing okay. his personality can come off as a bit much sometimes, but it's so clear that he cares

boone for sure gets a look in his eyes during a chase - no matter how many times he's gone on one, he's still in awe of it

also, if it's your first time going on a chase with him, he's going to go all out to impress you

and i mean all out

he's going to make sure that there are rockets and fireworks, he's going to sing and blast music, and he's going to act incredibly confident even if he feels a little bit nervous (most of his nerves are coming from the fact that he wants to impress you)

even with how overzealous he gets, you're still going to be a top priority for him. if you somehow get hurt, he's going to do everything in his power to make sure that you recover

maybe, a bit too much! he'll try to keep you out of chases for a little while over a scratch, but when you finally convince him that you're fine, he'll praise how strong and independent you are

after chases, too, if there are any people to help in a wrecked town he's going to be the one that tries to make the people smile. in turn, your spirits are going to be lifted quite a bit from sticking by his side

gabi

the first thing about gabi going on a chase is that she's for sure going to give you her hat for 'good luck'. in theory, she could buy you a hat (and probably has) but she thinks that it's better luck for you and for the case if you're wearing her hat

every time, she's going to take a moment to make sure that she places her hat atop your head and adjusts it to make sure that it's not covering your eyes

she's also somewhat protective. even though she's been around the bush with chasing, and she knows that the team is doing everything in their power to keep things as safe as possible, things can go wrong. she'll blame herself if anything happens to you, so she makes sure to do her best to keep you safe.

that can include something as simple as putting her arm in front of you, to buckling you into your harness yourself. or, it can be something like her refusing to let you go in a car without her because she's not comfortable with you being out of her sight

if you are, for whatever reason, in a different vehicle during a chase, she's going to make sure that you're safe the moment that you're away from the action.

she also hypes you up! if you make a prediction about something, she's going to make sure that everyone listens and that she supports you!

if you make a mistake, she'll comfort you and let you know that everyone on the team has done so. she's made mistakes, even tyler has made mistakes. gabi will ensure that, no matter what, you know that you did nothing wrong.

if you're right, well nobody will ever hear the end of it. she's going to make sure that you get to speak again, that everyone thanks you, even if strangers know that it was you who predicted something, she's gonna tell them too. she'll make you feel like the smartest person in the world.

she's also so sweet when helping towns and victims of tornadoes recover. somehow, around as sweet as she is with you.

if you get injured, she'll quite literally nurse you back to health. she'll insist you go to the hospital for anything worse than a bruise, but she might be even a bit more concerned for your health than you are.

bonus, she'll tease you if you hold her hand during it but secretly she very much enjoys it.

javi

having previously lost three close friends to tornado chasing, javi is often worried about you. however, his perspective is a bit different than the others.

he stayed back to collect data when he lost his friends, and that arguably saved his life. but, he also remembers how terrifying not knowing was, and he doesn't want you to feel that. so, he agrees but makes sure that you stay with him so neither of you feel that anxiety.

going on chases with javi, he makes sure that his vehicle is equipped with anything he may need to keep you safe. whether that be investing more on more secure seatbelts, making sure that the glass is as reinforced as possible, or simply keeping an eye on you.

there is always a somewhat distracting air about how he feels after a chase if it effects other people, because it's clear that he wants to do more and feels like he can't. you often end up trying to comfort him after a chase, especially because you know that he already lives with a lot of guilt.

if you get hurt, there are some issues beyond his worry that comes along with it.

scott doesn't think it's that big a deal, and gets especially upset if it gets in the way of data collection. but javi will do everything in his power to not lose any more people that he loves. he'll take any amount of heat if it means making sure that you're safe - he'd ultimately rather put his funding in danger if it means that he doesn't lose you.

when things go well, and he doesn't need any comfort, you always feel like the ending of the chases are the best part. his wide smile, his bright eyes, the way that he looks at you if indescribable, but it makes your heart feel so warm

kate

there are two versions of chase kate - pre-losing her friends kate is a totally different person to chase with. for this, i'll be focusing on post-trauma kate.

kate is protective to a fault. she really doesn't even want you going on a chase, even though you insist that you're going to be okay. ultimately, you understand why she's so apprehensive and let her find peace with the idea herself. she needs to be the one to invite you on a chase, and she ends up coming around to the idea of it after a while of contemplation.

kate will make sure that you know exactly how to stay safe. what to do if the car flips, what to do if the tornado is stronger than expected, what to do in the event of you not being able to see through the rain, or hail, or any other event that could take you by surprise.

she's incredibly thorough, but you understand why. she doesn't want to lose anyone else because of these things.

seeing her in her element is absolutely beautiful, though. you always knew that she had a gift, but you had never been able to see it up close and personal. finally being able to see it, to see the awestruck look in her eyes, makes you wish that you could go on a million chases with her.

seeing her smile afterwards, knowing that she's made a difference in some way and that you're both safe, is also a beautiful experience. her smile is like sunshine and rainbows to you, especially after witnessing a tornado first-hand.

kate being able to go on chases with you is therapeutic for her too, after she gets past the initial fear. but, if you do get hurt in some way, she's going to be incredibly worried for you. though you understood the risks, as she did, she also can't help but think back. it'll take some convincing to let you back with her on a chase, but she ultimately does end up feeling more comfortable with you close to her during a storm than away from her.

lily

like boone, lily can be a little eccentric at times. she says things that can make you laugh even during the worst situations, and she always sticks her neck out to make sure that you're safe

granted, she might be more nervous than anyone else to go on a chase with you. the first time you ask her to take you on a chase, she's going to be apprehensive. i doubt she'll even be the deciding factor, it will probably be boone or gabi who convinces her that you're going to be okay.

seeing her during chases is always fun, though. hearing her crack little jokes that make nobody but you laugh, watching her in her element, speaking so expertly about the weather, is something that makes your heart feel warm.

she's going to keep you close, too. even though she won't insist that you ride with her, she prefers it when you do. she likes to keep an eye on you, sure, but she also just loves having you physically close.

holding your hand, wrapping an arm around you, letting you rest your head on her shoulder until you see the tornado and after you're out of harms way. she likes having you close to begin with, but it gives her a bit more confidence than she otherwise would have.

also, having you on camera holding her hand when she can naturally be a little awkward in front of the camera? it relaxes her, even though you're both still on the edge of your seat because of the work that you're doing.

lily does tend to be protective - naturally - but she's a little more shy about it so she doesn't always express it. she doesn't want you to feel overwhelmed, so you often reassure her that you don't mind if she's a little protective.

in the event of you getting hurt, she'll do everything she can to make sure that you get to a medical professional and that you're tended to in the meantime. though, i think she enjoys patching you up herself sometimes.

scott

this man will tell you straight to your face that he doesn't care if you get hurt if you ask him about it, and honestly, he probably believes that he's telling the truth.

he's going to spend most of the time worried about the numbers, worried about money and absolutely nothing else. he doesn't even seem awfully invested in the weather or storms, so much as he is in the dollar signs associated with them.

when you go on a chase with him, you don't often enjoy it at first because he can come off as so emotionless and because he really doesn't seem all that bothered by the idea of you not making it back.

things change when something actually does go wrong. if a storm is stronger than usual, he's going to be a little bit on edge. he's worried about himself, sure, but he's making sure every other second that you're not hurt and that you're alive. for someone who doesn't care, he certainly comes across like he does.

if you end up injured, he's going to insist that you never go on a chase again, and will only change his mind after you've recovered. but, after that, chases are different because not only do you know that he cares if you're hurt, but he also has found out that he cares if you're hurt.

he'll become almost overbearing with how protective he is after that, but you won't be able to be upset about it. after so long of him acting like he doesn't care at all, it's nice to have concrete proof that he'd be upset if something happened to you.

he also insists that you ride with him. he doesn't trust anyone else to keep you safe after the incident, even if it happened when he was around. he isn't going to let anyone put your life in harm's way, so he insists that you're with him at all times.

tyler

tyler is so fun to go on chases with!

he seems incredibly calm about it, even though you know for a fact that he's still just as scared of tornadoes as he was the first time that he ever saw one.

if it's your first chase, he's going to feel responsible for showing you the ropes and making sure that you know what your doing. meaning: he may as well have a binder of information that he's going to present to you.

it can be hard to forget that he's so educated with how he acts sometimes, but that fun persona is barely there when he's teaching you everything about 'chase safety' and 'what's in the truck' and 'what not to touch' and 'when to get out of the vehicle' and literally everything under the sun. some of these things are just common sense, but he's touching all his bases.

when he knows that you know what you're doing, he brings you along but makes sure that his predictions are a baby tornado. something so small that he knows you're not going to be at risk.

when he eventually lets you level up to bigger tornadoes, you get to see more of his personality. he also, like boone, likes to go all out to impress you. he totally makes sure to stock up on rockets, fireworks, flares, anything that he can really think of so he can impress you and make you smile.

but that's another fun thing about him on chases, he absolutely loves making you smile. he'll say the most out of pocket stuff out of no where just because it makes you laugh.

if you get hurt, he's absolutely petrified and will volunteer to patch up your wounds even if your injury is something as small as you twisting an ankle on the way out of the truck or your knee smacking into the glove box.

#twisters x reader #twisters fanfiction #boone x reader #gabi x reader #javi rivera x reader #kate carter x reader #lily x reader #scott x reader #tyler owens x reader

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evilminji · 1 month ago

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You know, i just had the mental image of a sith in star wars finding a ritual or something to summon a ghost and end up summoning danny, while in space. The sith is struggling to try and convince this otherworldly being to help them do evil and their just staring out the nearest viewport in awe about the amount of new space things to discover.

How does it feel? To have such a big and wrinkly brain? So full of smartness?? :O

That? Is Brilliant~☆

It could be a Krell situation. Stress of the war got to be too much. Or a Dooku situation, discontent fed and fed until it burst. Like a silently festering wound, left unseen and untreated.

Regardless of HOW it happened?

The lil shit steals from Madame Nu. Like a CRAZY PERSON.

Rightfully terrified that she will Kick Their Ass into the stratosphere for touching HER archives, they head straight for the "Sith Stuff". What does it DO? What RESEARCH did they do? HA! You ask too much of them! There is no PLAN here!

Their brain has gone to SOUP with the Dark Side. It's all wild mood swings and impulse decisions! Research and careful precautions takes PATIENCE. Planning. The calm and rationality they just THREW OUT AN AIR LOCK.

They are high on the initial high of the Dark Side that few, if any, Dark Siders ever SURVIVE. That TEST of their character and control, as they stand in the storm they have unleashed upon themselves.

You want POWER?

Okay.

HAVE IT.

Like trying to swallow a waterfall. Drink the ocean, one cup at a time. Endless, yes, but equally so? It is BRINE. Not the life giving waters of the Light. The more you drink... the deeper your thirst. The faster you die. Can you control yourself? Suffer it? For that's all that's left... suffering. Thirst. Endless, Endless Thirst.

Water water everywhere, and it shall grind your bones to DUST when next you drink.

Welcome to the Dark Side! Was it WORTH it?

But, ah, our Fallen's brain is muddled soup. They think so. They are not themselves. May never be again. That's why it's a tragedy. Because it both IS and ISN'T their hands that takes that Sith artifact. Because who they WERE would be appalled.

They don't even know what they are grabbing, do they? No one does. Seized from the ruins of a laboratory. Long dead horrors, painted upon the walls. A Sith's obsession with the afterlife of his people. Ghosts. Beings that were, supposedly, DIFFERENT then Force Ghosts.

The notes speak of "green". A vision or experience in his youth. Brief. The world tearing open. A gate to somewhere "green". The Sith believed it was the afterlife. Felt death inside the gate. Described as "peaceful, joyful, driven, and eternal", he was ultimately unable to full articulate the full scope of what he believed he saw.

Now his last device is in the hands of a fallen jedi.

Who is going to USE it.

P A N I C

Obviously, the Temple gaurds chase the crazy mofo as hard as they can. Without a DOUBT, every master on hand and available, is roped in by Madame Nu to FOLLOW that psychopath, before he unleashs FORCE KNOWS WHAT, directly over CORUSCANT AIRSPACE!!! The SENATE. THE TEMPLE?! HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF LIVES!?

Fallen McFuckface? Clearly did not think this through (nooooo, REALLY? Everyone is SHOCKED! Shocked, they tell you!), panics. Which is, unfortunately, the LAST thing they wanted them to do. FUCK™.

Masters and Knights are LITERALLY cutting through the hull, kicking down the door, they can survive limited Space exposure and honestly? We're not THAT high yet! Let's see you jump to hyperspace with HOLES in your ship! (Fucking, DONT GIVE THEM IDEAS! They're insane, remember?!) (Shit. You're right.)

When?

.......Green...~¤~

Hilariously? The Sith can plan all they want. But you can NEVER plan for stupid. Make a plan idiot proof, as they say, and the Universe will just build a better idiot. All that carefully curated misery, hatred, and suffering? That DISPAIR. The webs upon webs of Darkness carefully spread across the Senate district? Choking the Temple?

Mmmmm, tasty kindling. Good fuel! Sith Artifact LIKEY~!

It RIPS and TEARS. A screaming MAW IN THE SKY. A black hole for Dark Side energy that takes and takes and TAKES. Dropping people all across the district below. KILLING the particularly irredeemably monstrous. After all~!

The Force? Is in all things.

You DON'T have to be Force Sensitive, to Fall. Just a BASTARD. Just cruel and selfish, hateful and needlessly petty. All the things that would sour and turn a Jedi? Can sour and turn YOU too. Just slower, quiter, and with less explosions. But! It still wraps the Dark around your bones. Feeds it into your blood.

Kills you, when it all gets ripped away.

One must wonder.... how many Senators die instantly? And how many die in the days to come? Slowly, painfully, bed-bound as they reflect on who they had become? The fall out will be SPECTACULAR.

The Jedi's fault? How? How is their being stretched so thin they could not mount a proper response THEIR fault? How is YOUR corruption, THEIR fault? Please note all the individuals who were FINE! Baffled, but FINE!

But perhaps you are correct.

Perhaps, for the safety of ALL, we should MOVE our main Temple.

We've done it before. We can do it again. Or do you not want to HAVE that conversation? Hmmm? No, no, we wouldn't want to be a THREAT to you FINE people! You HONORABLE senators! Please, continue to yell and make demands! SEE HOW FAR IT GETS YOU!

Would they normally send someone more diplomatic? Yes. But STRANGELY all of THEM had weird SITH Darkness on them that got violently ripped off! They are in the halls of healing. Unconscious. Because getting Sith shit, that was hooked into your brain, violently ripped out? Not GREAT! 0 out of 10 healers recommend!

Fuuuuck you! Yes, I bite! And be warned, my Race is VENOMOUS! *aggravated Jedi Senior Padawan noises, hissing*

Danny? Got pulled out in FULL regalia. Just FULL on Ice and Stars. Full "I am the Cosmos beholding itself, I am the dead child you could not save.", beyond vanta-black armor and cape like a window to ever shifting stars, crown of aurora borealis playing off the eternal ice, all upon a youngling that seems forever floating... frozen in time. By death.

Was it sacrifice? Natural? Is it just a shape the spirit takes? IS he a youngling?

They both can and can not feel him.

Both can and can not SEE him.

He is so young....

A child king, hsmiles with such shared grief, when they look upon that too large crown, upon a head that should never have been forced to wear it. Like a child, forced to wear his father's mantle too soon. Is that what happened? Was it something worse? They can not bring themselves to ask.

Not when he is so... so DELIGHTED?

Playing with the younglings. In AWE of each and everyone of them. The things they learned each day. "Who wants to go flying?" "Try to float me!" "I believe in you." Oh, he BASKS in their Light like a desperate thing. Showers them with praise and attention, gentle corrections and undivided attention.

He is empathic. Alive and dead. Fascinated by the stars.

And of course... King™.

No, no, he's not interested in your Senate. Doesn't like um, Doesn't trust um. The vibes are RANCID. But I mean... if you REALLY need an army so bad? Since it seems you guys are pushing yourself WAY outside of your normal duties? Like, he doesn't know, uhhh farmers burning crops to prevent starvation? Something like that.

Just? Since you hate it? But are worried people will die? Or those Clone guys (Sweet! Clones! Ellie is gonna be HYPED.) Are gonna die? He could, you know... fix that for you?

JUST you.

We're gonna have to get it in writing. And they won't do anything BUT stop the robots and help people. They don't actually answer to you. Soooo.....?

.......are you offering us an army? (Yeah. An endless skeleton army. Lead by the greatest Generals to have ever died.).....(they get bored.)

And SUDDENLY? Oh look! The Galactic suffering levels? Just fucking DROPPED. All those SENTIENT Clone soldiers! Dying in vain, in agony, ALONE? Not happening! Skeletons can get blasted apart, fade, reassemble, and march RIGHT BACK OUT! This is GREAT fun!

And even better? Unlike with Pariah? THIS time they march? King PHANTOM is sending them to HELP people! Woooooo! Destroy metal crunchy things! Help clean up rubble! Build a house! Rescue trapped people from rubble! Tireless effort! Honor and service! Thanks for the FREE METAL! *rips apart your robots*

There are no anti-ecto technologies here! The BEST they have is Force users! Which? Ha ha ha! GOOD LUCK. That's what? One? TWO? Of you?? To HOW MANY of us??? *cackles in bone army*

And! If they happen upon OTHER things they don't like? Whoop! Should'a thought of that! Before being a DICK! King Phantom says slavery is ILLEGAL. And we, the FORMER slave army of King Pariah, have Millennium Long ISSUES with that! (Easy to remove that chip, when you can reach THROUGH a person. Here you Slaver FUCK. YOU have it! In fact! Have ALL of them. From each and every slave.)

Anikin LOVES his new Bone friends. They are WONDERFUL. Him n them? Bonded. He's made them all speech boards. They're plotting the gruesome end of the Hutt cartel together. He's showing them the holo of his wedding. They're making Super Advanced Chip scan-.....

W....Why is his scanner going off? There should be nothing near by for it to recognize. The only thing HERE is him, his Bone Buddies, and Rex for supervision.... *mounting horror as he slowly waves the device around* *beep*

R-Rex?

...

......

The Clones? De-chipped in like... two days. There are too many skeletons to NOT have them be able to just? *reach in, feel for the Non-Clone bit, grab it, pull out* didn't even need surgery! But boy, oh, boy! Is Anikin upset. That sure is a Slave chip! Hey, Kamino! Have a Chosen One and his Bones Bros! Some Clones in orbit with Real Big Guns.

And Palatine? Is? PISSED.

His whole ass Empire is dissolving in his hands. The Sith Master Plan! Going up in smoke! Walls are closing in! All because of ONE(1) glowing BRAT.

Wanna bet he goes after him... with LIGHTNING? In human form, of course. Danny. Who DIED to electricity. Who has, throughout ALL of this? Been chilling in the Jedi temple, finally... FINALLY! Unwinding. Putting down the stress on his shoulders. Healing from his childhood. Cuddling cute babies and laying on the grass to nap, listen to the waterfall. Be at PEACE, surrounded by the Light of the Jedi.

Danny, who has been making friends. Enjoying the archives. For once in his stressful, STRESSFUL life? Letting OTHER PEOPLE deal with it. Playing with alien puppies and weird not-cats. Trying new foods! Seeing about adopting some droids that Tucker might get on with. Sorry "buying" some droids. (As though those Restraining Bolts aren't coming off the SECOND they droids are in his hands.)

It's been cool. Relaxing. Great for his mental health.

They have folks LITERALLY called Mind Healers here! Jazz would love it!

So obviously Sith face ruins it. Hurts his friends and blasts him with LIGHTNING. The kids are crying and terrified. This was supposed to be some sort of "learn about how the Republic works" day trip to the Senate! He was helping chaperone. They are being so, SO brave. Staying together. Trying to get their teacher out of harms ways.

He? Is? PISSED.

How DARE you. How FUCKING DARE YOU?! A fight between adults? Not his Reality, not his business. Clockwork drilled that into his head. He CAN'T keep the Multiverse together. Fight every fight for everyone, save everything. People have free will. Have to decide for THEMSELVES. Choose to do the right thing.

It doesn't mean SHIT if they don't save themselves. Wont last, in the end, because they won't have LEARNED a damn thing. He GETS that! But KIDS?! Ooooh ho ho! He DRAWS THE LINE AT KIDS! At shocking the SHIT out of him with LIGHTNING!

You want to poke the sleeping titan 'til it wakes up?

Well congrats!

YOU HAVE HIS ATTENTION NOW!

*inhale*

*Wail*

Palpatine goes through the HOLE where about fifteen walls USED to be. Half of Coruscant physically hears it and EVERYONE with even a TOUCH of Force sensitivity FEELS it. Across the entire planet and up into orbit.

Dying screams and the crackle of electricity. Regret. Fear. The desperate need to protect, in your final moment. Pain and pressure, the cool slide of Death come to take it all away. You were just fourteen. You were just fourteen! You died screaming, you came back screaming, in the place between... will you ever stop screaming?

You are the Galaxy, the Cosmos, the INFINITE. You are just a child.

How many souls died screaming?

Can't you hear ALL OF THEM?

Pissed or not, kids come first. Fuuuuuck that guy. Danny picks up the teacher, the kids, and back to the Temple they go. Teacher survives. Kids cling. Senate gets itself into a snit over the "unprovoked attack". But the thing is? A whole CLASS of Baby Jedi say the Chancellor is the Sith Lord. Look too spooked to be lying. Their teacher, too WOUNDED for this to be a prank.

The Jedi close rank.

Palpatine tries to use the Clones.

You know... the De-chipped by their Bone Bros Clones.

Commander Fox? Gets to finally, FINALLY(!!!) live out his long time fantasy... of shooting the fucker. Slug thrower. Tragically, fails to kill him. But the attempt WAS enthusiastic! We applaud his attempt. Commander Fox gets to join Danny in the Gardens, under a Crechelings pile, staring at the stain glass ceiling and Not Thinking Or Having Responsibilities.

Huh.... kid's right. This IS nice.

Fox enjoys being a climb-able lump for the Crechelings. Welcome to the club, my dude.

The other Jedi? THEY can figure it out. The Temple is literally unassailable. If needs be, his army can PICK IT UP AND MOVE IT. Danny is Vibin. Have a fruit. You hear about Skywalker? Making pretty good ground on his whole "one man and massive bone army campaign against Slavery" thing. Missed the whole.... his buddy was an asshole reveal. Apparently reception is spotty. *shrugs*

His wife's nice though! *various married Jedi agree, Obi-Wan continues to sulk because: "REALLY?! You didn't even INVITE ME!? My own Padawan! To his WEDDING! Anikin how COULD YO-!?"*

#minji's writing #long post #dpxsw #star wars #danny fenton #why clones when we could use bones?#jedi's bone army au

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feukt-42 · 5 months ago

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Elden ring + Shadow of the Erdtree lore thoughts

Alright, so, first off, obviously, spoilers ahead.

I've been thoroughly enjoying and getting my ass kicked by SotE and what ive seen of the lore so i wanted to ramble about it.

I specifically wanted to talk about how Elden Ring explores power and godhood.

In the base game, godhood isnt seen as inherently bad. Marika's golden order is fucked up six ways to sunday, but the blame mainly rests on Marika's shoulders it seems. She's a genocidal homewrecking war-mongerer who threw two of her children in the sewers bc of racism, she's not a good god, but it doesnt portray the problem as her being a god, just her being a mess. The game provides several "solutions" to unfuck everything :

Ranni's ending has you completely throw the system in the trash. She says, fuck it, godhood's the problem, im out of here. She is kinda right, but the lands remain fractured and the power vacuum left behind is going to be immense. We're on the right track but could be better.

The frenzied flame ending is just pure concentrated nihilism so i think we can move past it for this one.

The bunch of other endings are fairly similar : you beat Marika/Radagon's ass and you impose yourself as Elden Lord to keep her in check and fix the issues you see as most important. This doesnt fix anything long-term, the god in power is still the exact same fucking mess but with a chaperone now i guess.

None of these endings are very satisfying, they all leave you with a sense of "it could be worse i guess" (except the frenzied flame one but you get the point). This is where Miquella comes in :

Everything we hear about Miquella sounds great. He's kind, compassionate, against racism, doesnt like violence, etc etc. Cherry on top, he's even one of the characters with a direct shot at godhood, brilliant ! Why cant we just put him in charge, he'll do much better than the absolute wreck we have right now.

And thats where the base game leaves us, Marika is a fucked up mess of a person, and the obvious solution is to put the much better Miquella in her place.

Shadow of the erdtree, on the other hands, aims to set the record straight. The problem wasnt just Marika, the problem is inherent to godhood in and of itself.

In SotE, we see the land of shadow, the realm where Marika came from and ascended to godhood, and the realm where Miquella intends to do the same. And the more we hear about who Marika was before in snippets of lore, and the more we watch Miquella tread the road to godhood, we realise something :

There is no such thing as a good god

It doesnt matter how kind and compassionate you were, what your morals were, who you loved, who you loathed, none of it matters because you cannot grasp the power to become a god without sacrificing who you were before.

In the dlc we see Miquella shed more and more of himself, his flesh, his arms, his eye, his heart, his doubts, his fears and even his love. Miquella has shorn so much of who he was that he formed an entire new person (St Trina) from it. Some of him remains, he still wishes for a kinder world, but he cant sacrifice anymore of himself for it. Now he has to start sacrificing others.

Miquella was always blessed with the ability to charm others, and he sees it as the least painful path to make others do as he wishes. And so he charms his sister, he charms Mohg, he charms Radahn, his followers, Leda, Moore, Thiollier, Freyja, the hornsent, Ansbach, and everyone he can convince to give themselves up for his dream of a kinder world, regardless of the pain they might cause or feel by being enthralled by him.

And oh boy do they feel pain. Mohg is used and discarded like a ragdoll, and his followers and dynasty slowly crumble to nothing as the last pureblood knight watches helplessly, himself entranced by the one responsible after he failed to kill him. Radahn's soul is shoved in a corpse so that he can play consort to a god that is his antithesis, depriving him of his glory and honour as lord of the battlefield. Malenia is left alone to rot after Miquella has no use or help for her, and she endlessly waits for her brother to return. Every one of Miquella's followers has to grapple with those feelings of betrayal, manipulation, and lost memories returning all at once. It is by no means painless.

And so we end up with a god that is not much better than Marika was. On his path to godhood, Miquella has caused as much pain to those along the way as his mother once did, in this very same land that still feels the scars of Marika's ascension.

The only way to gain power is to take it from everyone else, and that cannot be achieved without pain.

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #SotE #shadow of the erdtree spoilers #SotE spoilers #elden ring spoilers #i guess #its 2 years old atp but you never know #queen marika the eternal #miquella the unalloyed #kindly miquella

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madamefeu · 3 months ago

Text

Hi! Here’s what your favorite Hazbin Hotel ship says about you!

Radiodust: You're an old-timer who's been around since the pilot. One off-handed joke about Angel Dust wanting to suck Alastor's dick was all it took for you to start shipping them. You always ship the two most attractive male characters together in your fandoms, even if they have no real connection

Huskerdust: I’m not going to touch this one because I’ll probably get death threats if I don’t tell the Huskerdust fandom exactly what they want to hear

Radiorose: Hello, aro-ace community! You love this because they're the closet thing to a canon queerplatonic couple that currently exists in mainstream media, and as a fellow aro-ace, I’m in the exact same boat

Chaggie: You like the idea of forbidden love, but you're not interested in handling all of the social/political ramifications of it, and would prefer to conveniently gloss over both of those things just like in the show. This ship has the flavor profile of vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips, and so does your personality

Lucifer/Lilith: You only want one thing in this life, and that is for a powerful woman to step on your neck. You are a bottom to end all bottoms

Radioapple: Daddy kink, but in a voyeuristic way. You like watching two dads doing each other, but there is no way you’d ever let them touch you, no, all you want is to watch them go at it

Rosiemilla: Mommy kink, but in a voyeuristic way

Radiohusk: Oh, you would let a man do unspeakable things to you if he was hot enough. You read dark romances and you want a dark romance to happen to you in real life

Cherrisnake: You are absolutely terrible at handling your feelings for everyone you've ever crushed on, and will try to convince yourself that you hate the object of your affections because you lack the courage needed to make a move on them. It would take a life or death situation for you to tell your crush how you really feel about them, and even then you'd be more afraid of telling them than of dying

Guitarspear: Hello, Adam simps! You binge-read workplace romances and you fantasise about dating your boss even though he's a dick 90% of the time. Strangely, the fact that he's a dick makes you even more attracted to him

Staticmoth: Your ideal ship is two horrible people who deserve each other. You want what they have, but at the same time you don't

Zestmilla: Your preferred aesthetic is old married couple core, and I respect that. You binge-read found family fics on AO3, and your favorite tag is hurt/comfort

Radiostatic: You love the idea of someone being obsessed with you when you have no interest in them. You like to laugh at their, quite frankly, pathetic attempts to get you to notice them, and you're waiting for the day when the penny will drop and they'll realise that they are nothing to you, and never will be

Arackpentious: You have never cared about canon, and you don't intend to start now. You probably simp for Sir Pentious and use Arackniss as a self-insert. We know barely any canon information about him, so it's easy for you to project yourself onto him so that you can get doubly-dicked down by the Victorian snake man

Charlastor: You're all about the aesthetic. You got into this ship because there's an abundance of gorgeous fanart for it, even if there's no chance of them being together in canon. You don't care about that, however, because they look beautiful together and that's all that matters to you

Radiomimzy: You wish that the old canon of Mimzy being Alastor's girlfriend was still canon

Royalhalo: You hate Vaggie and you think that Charlie deserves better than her, and who better than the sugary sweet angel who was the first to hear Charlie out and argue in her favor when she found out the truth about the exterminations?

Cherridust: You are aggressively heterosexual and you believe that it is impossible for a man and a woman to be friends without one or both secretly harboring feelings for the other. You binge-read friends to lovers fics on Wattpad, and if a man so much as says hi to a woman, you will ship them

Cherrimoth: You like enemies to lovers, but in a bitch eating crackers kind of way. You either have a crush on someone that you love to hate from afar, or you want to fall in love with someone who hates you from afar

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murdrdocs · 2 years ago

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RIDING DAVE LIZEWSKI'S THIGH!!!!!! 😧

okay so listen listen ; SMUT 16+

riding dave's thigh can go a couple of ways me thinks.

the first, it's to put on a show for him. in these moments, you're perched on his lap, trying to kiss, grind, and massage away his stress and the tension in his body. he's a fucking superhero without any powers, of course he's always stressed and sore and bruised. and there's not much you can do on your front. you know trying to convince him to give it up is fruitless, and you can't go out there and fight off crime. so you play the role of the doting girlfriend; there in the middle of the night to patch up injuries and kiss it better. tonight, luckily, you're doing more of the latter than the former. he's come in stressed, nothing but a few scrapes and bruises decorating his pretty face, but he's already changed out of the kick-ass suit and now he's just dave. your sweet dave who is holding onto your hips for dear life as you kiss him until he's dizzy and his glasses are skewed.

"tell me about your day," you're telling him, rubbing your lips together which makes dave aware of the sheer amount of lip gloss that he has on his lips now.

he tries to do as he's asked, but you've started to straddle one of his thighs and he watches you lower yourself. he starts from when he'd first talked to you this morning, and you're nodding your head, little "uh-huh"s leaving your lips in affirmation. but those noises of affirmation go from letting him know that you're listening, to letting him know how much pleasure you're feeling.

you're pushing your hips back and forth, letting the friction from your flimsy shorts and dave's jeans please you. your eyes screw shut, your head lolls back, but you're still saying, "uh-huh" and "yes". the noises are driving him crazy, a prominent pitch forming at his crotch. your hands are on his shoulders, pushing into the muscles, relieving them of their tension little by little. but its like with every push, dave's muscles relax, then tense tenfold. he can't relax when his pretty girlfriend is riding his thigh, listening to him rant about his suddenly-unimportant day while she gets off in front of him, evidently putting on a show.

whenever you push your shorts to the side, letting dave know that you weren't wearing any underwear, he flips you over and pushes his fingers inside instead, giving up on the whole run down on his day.

the second, is to deprive him of what he wants. similarly to the first, you're putting on a show. but you both knew that the ending would be slightly different. dave's been pissing you off; snarky remarks, avoiding you, treating you like you weren't that important. which, sure, you understood that he has other important things to do. but you're not asking to be treated like the fucking queen of england. you just want some basic respect that he was more than capable of giving you last week.

so when he comes into your bedroom late at night, beaten and bruised, on the verge of tears, you try to ignore the way your heart strings tug. "baby, i'm sorry, please, i just need your help."

you're upset, but you're not a sociopath. so you take him to your bathroom and clean him up, but when his hands try to reach for your skin, you're flinching away, or swatting his hand off. but if dave lizewski is anything, he's persistent. so he keeps doing it until you end up in his lap.

but you're not looking at him. you're looking at the cut on his forehead, at the cut at the corner of his lip, at the bruise that's forming on his eye and at his jaw.

"look at me. please," he's trying, his thumbs rubbing what he thinks is soothing circles at the exposed skin of your thighs. you're not caving though. even whenever he says, "let me kiss it better? let me fuck it better?" and maybe that would've worked when you weren't pissed at your boyfriend. maybe. but now all it does is rile you up.

"i don't need you to get off, dave." you spit his name out, reaching over to throw out the cotton balls that you'd just used. when you come back to face him, he has a slightly condescending smile on his face.

"sure, but you know it feels better when i do it."

he might be right, but you're not one to back down from a fight. you're not gonna let him win this sort of argument. so you situate to straddle one thigh, stare into his blue eyes, and watch as you start to slowly drag your hips along his quad, exaggerating your moans just to get a reaction out of him.

#davesworld!#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski smut #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski #celeste writes misc

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jewish-vents · 7 months ago

Note

I was adopted by Jewish people and converted to Judaism when I was a teenager. The morality Judaism offers has guided me through navigating my personality disorder, my severe alexithymia, my impaired judgment and my bouts of irrational paranoia. My original family lost custody of me because they beat me senseless, starved me, burned me, broke my bones and actually killed my sister by beating her to death. My girlfriend, a goy, texted me images of alleged victims of the IDF that a single reverse Google image search would have showed her are victims of US military intervention in Syria. And she honestly said, "Sometimes I think it would be better if you hadn't been adopted so you weren't technically sort of part of Israel."

I've never been to Israel but I have been up all night and now, as the dawn breaks, I've come to the conclusion I need to cut her out of my life. My whole life I've struggled with outbursts of anger, it's a part of most Cluster B personality disorders. When she said that I wasn't angry. I felt hollowed out. It feels like she ripped the personhood out of me. Because if you care about a person's well-being, you would never, EVER look at them and go, "I think it would be better if you had stayed with literal child murderers rather than be Jewish, which I am going to conflate not just with Israel but with the image of the IDF spread online". I can't be angry because it's so cruel I can't wrap my mind around it. It seems unreal. I kept checking for hours, convinced I must be having a break from reality because of the stress. I kept thinking it must be a visual hallucination. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and this is going to be a very strange dream.

I know breaking up with her is going to hurt her very badly no matter how nicely I do it. We've been dating a very long time. But I want to have kids someday and I can't do it with a woman who would rather I be dead than be Jewish. I'm not a guy who does the whole "my partner's beliefs have to match mine" thing but I can't raise Jewish children with her. I can't even trust her to see me clearly.

It's taking everything in my power not to say anything to her until I can calm down enough to approach this from a stable place. In my entire life, I don't think a single thing someone has said has ever messed me up so profoundly in my life.

I'm sorry I'm rambling. I can feel that I'm all over the place. Feel free not to publish this if it's too long. I can't imagine how much stress running this blog is. You probably get a bunch of hate and garbage on top of the already hard job of reading everyone's pain. I hope you're taking care of yourself. Thank you for running this blog.

I'm so sorry for all of that. I think you're making the right decision to cut her out. It's very reasonable to worry about how she might treat any children you have in the future, but that was also an indefensibly cruel thing to say to you.

Breaking up might hurt her, but that isn't your fault. You need to take care of yourself. -🐞

#jewish vents #antisemitism #tw: child abuse

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emthimofnight · 7 months ago

Note

Hello

So how would your fankids react to someone proclaiming their love to them? Asking for a friend🙏🏻

And for scientific purposes ofc

AIGHT HERE YOU GO:

Stellar: Very flustered and wondering if it is a joke. She's never been confessed to before and wouldn't know how to respond! She might make an excuse to leave to avoid embarrassing herself further. 😂

Camellia: Has been confessed to numerous times and knows how to deal with it with dignity. She is very aloof with men and is quick to nip any attraction to her in the bud. She would be far more flustered if a pretty girl confessed to her, though!

Thistle: His sister is the one always having suitors chase her around, so he would be DELIGHTED to have someone confess to him!! Being the young prince, he is often overlooked or overshadowed. He's quite the romantic at heart and often dreams of what his future partner might be like!

Jasper: He'd be very amused and would love the attention. He's a total playboy, so he eats shit like that up! If he found the person attractive, he might even entertain a date or two to see if they click. No promises for anything long-term, though!

Jade: Very chill. Would thank the confessor for the sentiment and would even go on a date with them if prompted. Kind of unintentionally a heartbreaker because she treats everyone with the same level of interest. It is very hard to tell if she likes someone more than the usual amount, or if that is just how she is!

Calico: Would be quite touched that someone had feelings for them, and would certainly try to reciprocate, if possible. They recognize how hard it is to put yourself out there and would do their best to give the person a chance!

Mirage: Oh, man. Good luck to anyone brave enough to confess to this jackass. He'd probably just say, "You have good taste," accept the flowers or chocolates and walk off. 💀 I think the only way someone would be successful in wooing Mirage is if they were someone that managed to get close to him first.

BONUS KIDS FROM OTHER AUS:

Serene: VERY FLUSTERED. Would turn red as a beet and try to hide her face. She might accidentally send the confessor flying with telekinesis, which would make her want to sink into the ground and disappear. 😂

Void: He would smirk and accept whatever offering of affection given, his eyes lacking any real light in them. He just assumes it is natural for someone to be attracted to him and cannot imagine any other specimen being able to compete with him. He believes it is logical to desire someone powerful as a mate, and who out there is better than he? That being said, whether he actually reciprocates is entirely determined by what he could get out of the person confessing.

Andromeda: Absolutely gobsmacked. She would have no idea how to react! She would be both happy to be receiving such attention, and horrified because she has no idea how to respond. She might end up sending the person confessing to her flying just to get out of the situation. That being said, she is a lesbian, and while she might enjoy having that kind of attention regardless of gender, she would only ever reciprocate those feelings to another woman.

Polarity: He would think that the person confessing to him was somehow put up to it or trying to prank him. If he was convinced the person was serious, he would be a floundering mess. Like, "Are you sure?" and "ME? You really want ME?". Once he got over the hurdle of his own self-esteem, he'd be really happy someone wanted him that way, regardless if he reciprocated those feelings or not.

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yazzwrites6962 · 6 days ago

Text

Sticky Situation ♡ Denji

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Denji x Fem!Virgin!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! Denji is absolutely aged up in this depiction. In no way should he be interpreted as a minor, even if it doesn't exactly follow the original work. I do not own any characters/images!

Genre: Smut and fluff

Summary: Y/N is a top tier devil hunter, earning her much respect and praise among others. However, when she catches herself in an embarrassing situation, she desperately pleads for Denji to help and not tell anyone. He wants something in return.

Word Count: 4456

Warnings: Sexual content, language, loss of virginity, penetration, Fem! oral receiving, biting, masochism, blood, slight degradation, praise, hair pulling, spanking, mirror sex, choking, sort of "caught".

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It was irritating enough that you had to deal with Denji and Power getting in your way all the time in the past couple weeks, but now you had to live with the idiots. You only really did it as a favor to Makima, one of your oldest friends.

"You'll be like a mentor. A stabilizing force to their chaos." You recall the night Makima tried to persuade you. "Besides, it will be good for you. You can't live life all on your lonesome. You should learn to make friends."

"I'm perfectly happy being all on my own for the rest of my life. Other people only slow me down." You can hazily remember Makima pouring you another shot. That was one of the only ways you could be convinced of anything: If you weren't sober. "I have you, what more could I need? Though... I guess if you really want me to do it, I will."

You never could have anticipated that your apartment would be destroyed during a battle with the Chaos devil. It seemed chaos followed you everywhere now that you were a glorified babysitter. The only reason the Chaos devil got away that day was because of Denji ruining your plans. You missed the days when you had your solitude and organized schedule. You had a certain way of doing everything, and he always managed to screw it up.

Now, while your place was being fixed, you were shoved into a cramped apartment with Aki, Denji, and Power. You didn't mind Aki so much. He seemed plenty capable and usually stayed away from you. It was Denji and Power you'd grown to hate. Still, you couldn't back out from your favor to Makima.

It was a warm Sunday, and for once, you had nothing much to do. You'd cleaned up the tiny space you called your own. Somehow, Aki managed to clean out a decently sized closet for you to stay in. You'd cleaned the kitchen as well. Aki, Denji, and Power were not home, and you relished the peace this brought. You couldn't care less about where they were.

No devils, no mess, no noise. What a dream. You opted to take a nice hot shower to relax your muscles. You slowly peel off your clothes, making your way to the bathroom. You turn on the shower, allowing the room to fill with steam. The mirrors fogged and you took your time bathing yourself, enjoying the rare comfort of your solitude.

You must've been in the shower for nearly an hour before you finally decided to get out, wrapping your damp body in a large white towel. You wipe the mirror, finding your bare face staring back at you, wet hair draping over your shoulders. That's when you feel something tickling your foot.

You look down, your heart stopping as you pray that what you're seeing is a hallucination. To your dismay, it's not. You shriek, kicking your foot and leaping onto the sink. You immediately douse your foot in soap, scrubbing it under the faucet while your eyes are locked on the little bug on the floor.

A cockroach. A cockroach was crawling on your foot. Disgusting. Of course, the apartment has cockroaches. Denji and power are the most disgusting people you've ever met. Can it fly? Dear god it better not be able to fly.

You're trapped in the bathroom, unable to leave out of fear of the cockroach. To think, you, who can defeat any foe and instill fear in others is terrified of a cockroach. As you're racking your brain for ideas, the bathroom door bursts open, you scream once again, fearing the cockroach will react to the sudden movement.

"What's going on?!" Denji shouts, standing right at the door. You're huff in frustration. Not only are you stuck with a cockroach, but he's home. He heard you scream. He's... staring right at your cleavage? What a pervert!

"Denji! What the fuck are you doing home?" You yell, trying to calm your nerves. You don't want to lose respect, especially not from him. You pull your towel in a little tighter, trying to cover as much of your body as possible.

"I got home like, fifteen minutes ago. Power and Aki are still out- Why are you on the sink?" He asks, his eyes searching the room before they land on the little brown creature on the floor. His gaze switches between you and the bug before a smirk grows on his face. "Miss Y/N... Are you scared of the cockroach?"

"No!" You practically scream this to the entire building. A deep blush washes over your cheeks as you shift your position ever so slightly. "What are you even doing?! Get out! Shut the door!" Denji does as you instruct, except he steps inside the room before shutting the door behind him.

"Then what are you doing on the sink?" He chuckled, approaching the little bug on the floor. He pinches it between his fingers, and you practically vomit in your mouth from this action. He holds it a little closer to you, and you sink into yourself, holding your breath. "You are scared!" He laughs, the bug writhing between his pointer and his thumb.

"S-Stop! Just get that thing out of here, you freak!" You shut your eyes, horrified by what you're seeing. "I'm not scared! It's just gross! Put it outside!" Denji's laughter continues, as he pulls back, putting some more distance between you and the cockroach.

"Wow. I never thought I'd see you so scared of something. It's kinda cute." He teases. "I'll make you a deal. I'll get rid of the bug, and I won't tell anyone about your fear," You inhale, feeling slightly more relieved. "But you've got to do something for me in return." Of course there's a catch.

"I don't make deals or compromises." You state sternly, pointing towards the door. "Get rid of it, Denji!" Rather than following your orders, he brings the bug closer to you, causing a shriek to slip from your lips.

"C'mon, Miss Y/N. Loosen up. I'm not asking much. Just a favor." A favor is what got you into this mess in the first place, but with the cockroach's legs wiggling right in front of your face, you don't have too much of a choice.

"Fine! Whatever! Just get it out of here!" With that, Denji steps back, anticlimactically tossing the bug into the toilet and flushing it away just as quickly as it came. He makes his way back to the sink, a proud grin on his face. "Wash your fucking hands you degenerate." You bark. Denji rolls his eyes, doing as he's told this time.

"See? Was that so bad? You could've flushed the thing yourself, y'know." He laughs as you slide your way off the sink. You adjust your towel once again, realizing that you're still completely nude underneath. Denji has had this in mind since the beginning. "Now, can I get my favor?"

"You want to cash it in already?" You groan, still blushing from embarrassment. "You should save it for something important. It's not every day you get a favor from me." Ddenji shakes his head, turning off the sink and drying his hands. He actually washed them well enough that you don't have any complains.

"I wanna use it now." He says, hungrily looking down over your frame. Your bare skin is still slightly wet, droplets of water clinging to your skin. Your hair is drooping over your face. This is the rawest, most vulnerable state he has ever seen you in. "I want you to take off the towel."

Silence. Even the birds outside stopped chirping. You blink a few times, hoping this was a joke, but it's not. Your face grows redder as you cling to your towel for dear life. You're speechless. What kind of perverted request is this?

"Y-You... You weirdo!" You yell, turning your face away from him. "That is not a favor! That's just... It's just... You're so gross!" You turn to leave the bathroom, but he graps your wrist, holding you in place. You're about to knock some sense into him, but he begins to speak, and you surprisingly listen.

"Look, I'm not trynna be creepy or anything, okay? I don't mean to offend you. It's just like... you're... untouchable. Y'know? You're the amazing devil hunter everyone looks up to. At the same time, seeing you like this... It's like a reminder that you're human. A pretty one. It makes me think we're not so different. I could be as awesome as you someday, I guess. I still... respect you a lot. Whether you fulfill the favor or not."

Your demeanor softens as he rambles. Denji sure says a lot of things that piss you off, but this touches your cold heart a little. You sigh, pulling his hand off your wrist and opening the bathroom door. For a second, Denji seems dejected, thinking you're about to leave. However, you simply peek through the hallway, making sure nobody else is home before shutting the bathroom door again.

"Fine." You grumble. You did owe him a favor, after all, and you're a woman of your word. "Just for a second, okay?" Denji's face lights up, and he nods vigorously. You roll your eyes. The hands that once tightly gripped your towel drop. Your towel drops along with them, bunching up on the ground. You'll have to get another as soon as Denji is finished oogling you.

But Denji isn't gawking like you thought he would be. He's observing, respectfully. His eyes are scanning over your chest, looking as though he will need to remember this for the rest of his life. Studying you. His gaze drops from your chest, making sure he gets a good look at everything. He lifts a finger, rotating it, indicating he wants you to turn around. You scoff, but comply, shifting so that your back is facing him.

"Are you done yet?" You huff, looking into the mirror to see what he's doing. He's still analyzing your body, taking a step closer to get a better look. You can't help but feel embarrased. Nobody has ever seen you like this before. You've never had time for romance or silly relationships. You've always been too busy being the best.

"You're beautiful." Denji exhales, his eyes glimmering. You turn around to face him again. He's much closer than you remember him being. Your heart picks up and you feel the heat rush to your face again. "Can I... touch?"

"That was not part of the deal!" You groan, but his compliments have softened you. Besides, it's not like this will ever happen again, so why not let him have his fun? You shrug, lifting your arms ever so slightly. "Whatever. Knock yourself out, buddy."

Denji licks his lips, lifting his hands until they're nearly touching your chest. He pauses for a moment, looking back into your eyes for another sign of approval. You roll your eyes and nod. He smiles, his large hands finally grasping your breasts. At first, he's a little rough, and a squeak escapes your throat.

"Ah- Gentle." You whine. His touch lightens as he continues to massage. Between his fingers, he suddenly pinches your nipples. You gasp, jumping slightly at the sudden sensation. "D-Denji-?" He groans, getting down onto his knees and pushing your back into the bathroom door. Suddenly, his lips are locked around your right breast, his tongue swiping around the tender area.

You want to scold him. You want to remind him that this was not part of the deal, but somehow, you don't mind it too much. You're actually enjoying this a little too much. Denji's left hand is still planted on your right breast, kneading it lightly. His other hand begins to travel down your side, pausing at your waist. His thumb rubs circles into your bare skin, which goosebumps are now forming over. With a small pop, lip mouth releases you.

"Is this okay, Miss Y/N?" He says, barely above a whisper. "You can tell me to stop." Surely, he must know what he's doing. He must know the conflict he's causing in your mind. With him on his knees, kneeling in front of you and looking up with such pleading eyes, you feel so drawn to seeing what he does next.

"N-No. It's fine. This is fine. You can... continue." You say, embarrassed. He smiles, his sharp white teeth flashing at you before he lifts you by the waist. Both his arms are wrapped around you, and you grip his hair to stabilize yourself. "H-Hey! Woah-" You're about to complain, but he sets you down at the edge of the sink, his hands finding your thighs.

He caresses you so delicately. It feels comforting to be treated gently. So many people assume you're so tough, and you can handle not being treated softly. Denji felt different. He carefully spread your legs, peppering kisses up your thighs. You bite your lip, growing anxious and embarrassed.

"Relax, Miss Y/N. I don't bite." He smiled, his hands sliding up your legs and finally reaching your wet core. He pushes his thumb against your clit, a little too hard. You jump, grapping his wrist. He nods, easing his touch and rubbing circles on your sensitive bud. "Better?"

"Mhmm..." You hum, releasing his wrist. His head lowers between your thighs, pausing for a moment before his tongue presses against you. For a moment, you wonder how this escalated so quickly, but it's difficult to think while Denji laps up your arousal. Your legs squeeze his head as he continues.

You bite your lip, trying not to let the whimpers and moans fall from your throat. It's embarrassing. It's all just so embarrassing. You can feel how warm your face is. In a way, it's a little difficult to fully enjoy the moment with how your mind races. Maybe he noticed this, because he lifts his head, spreading your legs apart so he can lift himself further to meet your gaze.

"You can relax, Miss Y/N." You find yourself in such a position so that now, his clothes hips are pressed between your legs. His strong arms are wrapped around you, landing on your upper waist while he decorates your neck in kisses and marks.

"Calling me Miss makes me sound old. Just Y/N is fine..." You exhale as he finds your sweet spot, licking and sucking on your soft skin. Suddenly, you feel the press of his sharp teeth on you, piercing your flesh. You yelp, slapping his shoulder. "Hey! I thought you said you didn't bite?" You grumble. He chuckles, his hot breath brushing your shoulder.

"I'm sorry Y/N, you just feel so delicate like this..." He licks up some spots of blood from the bite mark he just created. "I never would've dreamed I could have you so vulnerable like this." His voice suddenly seems so low, and husky. Usually, this comment would've tremendously offended you, but it was true. You'd allowed yourself to be exposed to this man, who you had considered an immature annoyance only an hour earlier.

"Y-Yeah yeah don't get used to it. I'm feeling generous today." You flush, turning your warm face away from him. Although you never imagined yourself being intimate with someone, you never could've fathomed that you would be so submissive. Anyone who knew you saw you as a dominating spirit.

"Well, if you're feeling generous, let's see how much I can get away with..." Denji teased, leaning in closer to you for a kiss. You hesitated for a moment. You've never kissed someone before. What if you did it wrong? No, not possible. You were always the best at everything you did. Still, why did your heart race so rapidly? Why were you so anxious?

You gulp, leaning into his lips. They're surprisingly soft. There were awkward moments where your teeth bumped together, or your rhythm was off. It was definitely a learning curve, but soon, you were synced in a passionate kiss. Your fingers intertwined with the strands of his hair, tugging on it slightly. He groaned, pressing himself into you further.

Your arousal was soaking through his pants, only causing the prominent bulge beneath them to ache and twitch more. His hands explored your body as if he would be tested on it, studying every part of you. Suddenly, he pulled away from the kiss, his cheeks pink and eyes filled with desire.

"Y/N." He whined your name, sending shivers down your spine. It seemed rather unfair that you were completely nude in front of him, and he was still fully dressed. You began to unbutton his shirt, his well-built chest slowly revealing itself to you.

"Yes?" You whisper, pulling his shirt off and allowing it to land on the partially wet floor. It could always be washed later. Right now, all you wanted was for him to get undressed. You reach for his belt, and he watches as you fiddle with the buckle. Slowly, but surely, all his remaining clothing is left in a pile on the floor. He matches you in your nudity.

"I've never done anything like this before." He admits. You smile, grateful that at least you aren't alone in your newness to the situation. "I respect you, a lot. Like, a lot a lot... I want you to feel good."

"I haven't done anything like this either, if that wasn't already obvious." You say softly. His eyes widen with surprise. This only makes you more nervous. He wouldn't back out now, right? He'd better not leave you high and dry.

"R-Really? I wouldn't have expected that from someone as awesome as you." Though there were so many ways you could've interpreted that, you chose to take it as a compliment. Besides, you were growing impatient.

"Really... Now... Can we change that?" You ask, your legs wrapping around him, bringing his cock to your core. He was already twitching and oozing with desire for you. He nods vigorously before gripping your hips. His nails dug into you slightly, but you didn't care. You were too focused on how he lines himself up with you.

"Are you super sure, Miss Y/N?" He asks. You appreciate how much he seems to care about getting your consent. You nod, your hands finding a comfortable resting position wrapping around his neck. "Say it."

"I'm sure." The way he demands verbal confirmation from you makes your heart skip a beat. Before you can say another word, he pushes himself all the way into you. You gasp, a tinge of pain pinching through you. You felt stretched; Filled.

You didn't need to tell him to give you a moment to adjust. You could tell it took a lot out of him to hold himself back. He couldn't contain his twitching, which caused you to shudder every time. You saw the beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he focused on his breathing.

Fortunately, the pain was quick to fade, and suddenly you couldn't imagine feeling as empty as you did before again. You shift your hips slightly, feeling his tip press against a particularly sensitive spongy spot inside you. His breath hitches and his nails press harder into your hips.

"Y/N..." He growls, warning you that if you continue to tease him with your little movements, he wouldn't be able to hold back. Maybe that's exactly what you want. You continue to roll your hips, baiting him with your small motions. "Fuck. Y/N."

You felt him draw out of you a bit, leaving you missing the feeling of being full. However, just as quickly as he had pulled away, he thrusted back into you. This time, you felt nothing, but pleasure. He repeated this motion, pumping deep inside you continuously. Your grip on him tightened as you brought yourself closer, raggedly breathing in his ear.

He chuckles, pulling out of you fully, and picking you up off the counter. You have a moment of confusion before he sets you on the ground, turning you around so that you're facing the mirror. He pins your hands behind your back, your chest pressed against the counter as he pushes back inside you.

You see your lewd expression, and the blush spreading your cheeks. You also see Denji's expression, full of pleasure and a hint of something... possessive? He continues to pound into you, the sound of slapping skin echoing in the room, along with the muffled moans you're trying to contain.

"C'mon princess, let me hear those pretty noises." Denji growls. It feels so out of character for him, but it only makes you more desperate. You allow your moans and whimpers to spill out, seeing just how much he enjoys it based on his face in the mirror. "That's right. Such a good slut for me."

With one hand still holding your wrists, his other travels to your scalp, grabbing a handful of your hair and tugging it back. As your head lifts, you can really see yourself in the mirror. You can see the way your body bounces with every thrust. You can see the bites and hickies on your neck. You don't even have the mind to think about how you'll cover them later.

"Ngh, you're so beautiful like this." He groans, his moans growing louder alongside yours. He releases your wrist, allowing you to use your hands to stabilize yourself against the counter while your legs tremble. Now, another slapping sound fills the room as he smacks your ass, causing you to jump and tighten around him. He gasps, repeating the action. "Fuck. You're so tight... Squeezing around me... You're so good Y/N..."

Your name and the praise rolls of his tongue so naturally, He struggles to get the words out, groaning and huffing as you could tell him release was coming close. You smirk, glad to be bringing him so much pleasure. His mind must be under the same fog yours endures. Denji frees your hair from his hand, bringing his chest down against your back, reaching a whole new angle as he picks up in speed.

His grip finds its way around your throat as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. You feel a pressure building inside you, coming closer and closer to that pressure releasing with every pump. You feel light, your moans growing louder and louder, encouraging Denji to continue.

"A-Ah- Denji- I can't-" You begin, the words barely falling from your lips between your bodies colliding. He lets out a whine, his thrusts growing sloppier and sloppier. This doesn't matter, though, as you've already come so close to the edge of your climax.

"G-Go ahead. Cum for m-me, good girl~" This sends you over the edge the pressure finally releasing. Your breath quickens as the feeling washes over you. With a couple more thrusts, Denji pulls out of you, finishing on your thighs.

He lets go of your neck, only to wrap his strong arms around your waist as you both catch your breath. You see his tranquil expression in the mirror, eyes shut as his chest heaves. You can see yourself too, disheveled hair and marks across your neck. This was definitely more than your deal entailed, but you don't mind. You don't regret a single moment.

"Wow. That was... radical." Now he's back to being irritating. You roll your eyes, pushing him away from you as you search for where your towel went. He watches you tremble as you pick up your towel, wrapping yourself in it carefully. Your whole-body aches now, and you remember his cum dripping down your legs. You groan with annoyance, debating taking another shower to wash it, and the sweat, away.

"I hope you know this was a one-time thing. This won't happen again." You grumble. Despite your behavior, you were actually quite pleased. It was almost as if this washed away a weight of stress on your shoulders. Little did you know, this would most definitely not be a one-time thing.

"Y-Yeah. Right. Of course." He looks down, seemingly a bit disappointed. "...Was I... at least satisfactory?" He asks, a nervous grin on his face. He was definitely more than satisfactory. This was obvious with the way you shook as you walked. Still, you nodded. In some situations, a little praise was necessary to keep him motivated. This felt no different.

"Yes. You were... Satisfactory. Thank you, Denji." It felt awkward to say, and suddenly your mind brought you back to all the praise Denji had been whimpering in your ear. You blushed again, looking away from him as he began to dress himself again.

A comfortable silence filled the bathroom as he dressed himself, and you tried to clean yourself with some tissues. In a way, you were grateful for the cockroach showing up when it did. You were grateful that Denji happened to be home. You were grateful that Aki and Power were out. Just as you finished your thought, a loud pounding began at the bathroom door, and you jumped.

"Are you guys done fucking yet?!" Power's voice bellowed through the door. Your face grew pale as you flashed a shocked look at Denji. From the look he gave you, he also had no idea that Power was home. "I need to pee!"

"What the fuck Denji. I thought you said Power wasn't home!" You hiss, turning your attention to the door. "Be out soon Power! We weren't... We weren't doing that! Denji was just helping me with a cockroach!" You explain, which is half true.

Through the thin apartment walls, you hear Aki chuckle. Dear god, he was back already too? Denji is finally dressed, and you are wrapped in your towel when you open the door, met with a skeptical looking Power.

"You so totally were fucking. I could hear you!" She pushed past you and Denji, shoving you both out of the bathroom and slamming the door. You rack your brain for more excuses you could make, but then Aki appears at the end of the hall.

"We both could. These walls are quite thin, you know." He complains, looking you up and down. "Denji, your shirt buttons are unaligned." He sighs before meeting my eyes with an annoyed glint. "Y/N. Your neck." He turns, presumably making his way back to the kitchen he came from.

You shoot a look at Denji, who is nervously checking his shirt. You groan, brushing past him to get to your room. You just hope to God that news of this doesn't make its way to anyone else, especially not Makima.

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