#college has been a particular hell these past couple weeks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mvshortcut · 9 months

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If this is a weird question, feel free to delete, but in the midst of trying to follow all the Maren/Milk Divorce/Marriage drama lore, I have to ask: why is your nemesis a turkey and how is he (or she or it, does the turkey even have a name? idk...) involved in this? Do you and this particular turkey have a deep complicated backstory of betrayal and hate that has been building to this fight or did you and the turkey just see each other one day and declare yourselves enemies?

I attempted to tell the abridged version of this tale. I really did.

The long and short of it is, despite going to college in a relatively urban environment, I have been haunted and stalked and vexed day and night by a gang of turkeys. Yes, a gang of wild turkeys that live in the city. No, I don't understand it either. They're like oversized pigeons at this point.

The turkeys have been a background presence in my college experience for some time. But, towards the end of last semester, I became aware that the turkeys appeared to be honing in on me specifically.

It started with one turkey, whom I have dubbed Victorian Maiden Turkey because the turkey looks very ill for some reason? very grey and scrawny and rumpled feathers and constantly seems confused about where she is and what is going on. She looks like a fainting waif of a Victorian maiden that needs to be sent to the seaside for her health, where she will magically be cured by the sun and fresh air. (No relation to the fact that she's been moved out of her city home, which is at least composed of 35% asbestos.)

ANYWAYS. so. Victorian Maiden Turkey seemed to like. follow me when I went to class? or at least wait for me? I had a long walk to class, and it was kind of through a residential area, and she'd just be like. hiding out in someone's driveway, staring at me as I walked past? On the way home from class I walked an entirely different route through a different part of town, and she was there too? (I know it's the same turkey because, again, none of the others resemble sickly waifs.) She was literally hiding in the bushes waiting for me to go past. I only noticed her, in fact, because I nearly tripped over her.

This continued for the next couple weeks. I kept running into this turkey, along with a few others, in different parts of town, going to class or the store or on my walks. I spoke to friends and my roommate and none of them reported being tailed by turkeys all over town. Only me. My roommate and my mom both agreed with me that there was only one possible explanation: someone had put out a hit from the turkey mafia on me, and this turkey was sent to scope out the scene and learn my routines, waiting for the best opportunity to strike.

Now, I’m getting nervous because the end of the semester is fast approaching. If these turkeys are gonna make a move, they’re gonna have to do it soon, right? Mentally I’m counting down the days until I can get the hell outta dodge. My days are numbered. And, on top of fearing for my life, I still have to study for finals, since I don’t believe any of my professors will accept “I’m being stalked by the turkey mafia” as an excuse.

Sunday. Last day before finals week begins. Trying to entice myself to push through the home stretch, I grab my picnic blanket, pick up some Chipotle, and bring my work to the park. First big mistake on my part - big open area. No shelter. No witnesses.

Second big mistake: I wear sneakers with laces. I remove my shoes and socks and spread out on my blanket under a tree to better enjoy the warm day. Chekhov is cocking his gun as we speak.

So. As an unsuspecting naive college student, I get straight to work enjoying my Chipotle and ignoring my studying. Then, just as the “ah shit, finals start tomorrow” reality begins to settle in and I finally buckle down on my work, I hear a rustling from over yonder.

Emerging from someone’s driveway and entering the park is—a turkey. Not Victorian Maiden Turkey—he looks entirely too well-fed. In fact he’s a rather hefty-looking fellow. The turkey slowly wends his way over to me; and, as I’ve seen turkeys several times around the city before, I assume we’re cool and proceed to ignore him.

Except—the turkey keeps approaching. We’re gonna call him Turkey Number One. (In the moment, I did not call him “Turkey Number One” for the same reasons that people in the early 1900’s didn’t call The Great War “World War I,” but we’ll get to that later.)

Turkey Number One continues to approach. As he approaches, he gradually becomes larger by puffing himself up. At some moments he simply seems interested in investigating me and my Chipotle and my water bottle. But at other times he begins to make a variety of unhappy turkey noises, but refrains from outright gobbling at me thus far. At this point he’s within 6-10 feet of me. Mildly annoyed—why is this turkey going to act all huffy at me if he’s the one choosing to invade my space? When he has a whole park’s worth of space in which to ignore me?—I stand up, grab my laptop, and make to step away from my blanket for a moment to let the turkey cool off for a moment.

Now, here's where Chekhov begins to chuckle ominously at me from the audience. Remember how I took my shoes off earlier? Well, as I now discover, the tree above me produces some rather sharp variety of seeds, which will easily stab the bottom of my feet if I attempt to step on them without shoes. The whole ground is covered in these seeds.

Not a problem, right?

Think again, Milk. The turkey is impatient and unhappy with me bending down to tie my shoes. As soon as I stoop down, he begins to approach my blanket, gobbling furiously at full volume and fluffing up his feathers. He backs off when I stand up, but every time I attempt to bend to put my shoes on, he resumes his approach.

Okay. This is fine. It’s gonna be just fine. I mean, I’m actively texting good-byes to my friends and mother and roommate, but it’s gonna work out just fine.

And to be honest? It does. Turkey #1 and I go back and forth for a few minutes. He begins to calm down, seems unsure of whether to perform a mating dance at my water bottle or not. Eventually he decides against it and takes his leave and I, with a sigh of relief, resume studying, thinking that the ordeal is over.

The ordeal is not over.

About an hour later, Turkey Number 1 returns from a different angle of the park. And—he’s brought his girlfriend this time, Turkey Number 2! (She is also well-fed and bears no relation to Victorian Maiden Turkey.) I’m still unclear as to whether Turkey Number 1 wanted me to meet his girlfriend, or if he thought I was encroaching on his territory/relationship and was like, “See? I have a girlfriend, man! Back off!” yada yada.

All in all, the second wave goes rather smoothly. Turkey Number 1 is all puff and no bite. Turkey Number 2 is visibly embarrassed by the antics of her boyfriend’s posturing (I’m not a bird behavioral expert but I recognize The Expression. It is universal). She occupies herself with eating seeds for a few minutes, I have some more Chipotle, Turkey Number 1 gradually cools off—it’s nice. After a moment Turkeys Number 1 and 2 exit the park and I, once again, return to my studying.

Lulled into a false sense of security by the last turkey visit, I don’t bat an eye when Turkeys Number 1 and 2 return to the park an hour later. They were fine last time, right? No big deal.

Then, over the horizon, a challenger approaches.

At long last, my friends, allow me to introduce you to my nemesis. Turkey Number 3 is the largest turkey I’ve seen in my life, though I believe he’s at least 80% ruffled feathers and air. And he is mad.

To be perfectly honest I’m still not sure what he was mad at. I believe it was a combination of 1.) mad at Turkey 1 for having a girlfriend he wanted, 2.) mad at me for invading what I now realize is clearly His Park, or 3.) mad at me for being a potential challenger for Turkey 2, which. Isn’t actually his girlfriend. She’s Turkey 1’s girlfriend. But it’s whatever, yknow?

(My mom has offered a potential fourth explanation, which is that Turkey 3 viewed ME as a potential turkey girlfriend, despite the fact that I am neither a girl nor a girlfriend nor a turkey nor a turkey girlfriend, or any combination of these. My mother believes he was attempting to woo me through impressive displays of force. I have henceforth refused to entertain my mother’s suggestion for my own sanity.)

So. Despite attempting to rationally and calmly explain to Turkey 3, my soon-to-be nemesis, that I am not interested in stealing anyone’s turkey girlfriend, he refuses to be placated. He puffs up larger than I thought possible for a turkey and charges directly at my blanket. Not only does he make deafening enraged gobbling noises that can certainly be heard halfway across the city, he also emits a variety of enraged puffing and huffing and squawking noises. Did you guys know that turkeys can extend all of their feathers at once, creating a “blast-off” sound effect that simultaneously propels them forwards? Neat, right? I didn’t know that either!

Now I do.

Having failed on Potential Reason Turkey Is Mad Number 3, I move to Potential Reason Turkey is Mad Number Two. I attempt to explain, again calmly and rationally, that if the turkey will just allow me a moment to put on my shoes so I don’t stab my feet on the seeds and roll up my blanket, I will gladly vacate his park.

Despite clearly wanting me to leave, Turkey 3 resists my each and every attempt to do so. He maintains a respectful 6-foot social distancing if I remain standing. The second I bend down and reach for my shoes, however, he puffs and gobbles and charges at me. And so I straighten up, my nemesis backs off, and the cycle repeats.

Friends. My absolute bastard of a newfound nemesis holds me hostage there for thirty minutes like this. And he’s good at it, too. Sometimes he’ll give me false hope too, wander off to fight Turkey Number 1 for his girlfriend’s hand/wing (said girlfriend is still munching seeds off the ground, clearly disgusted with them both.) I’ll take advantage of his distraction, bend down and reach for my shoes—and my nemesis will come charging out from behind a tree or materialize out of thin air, squawking and gobbling and puffing with the force of a thousand suns. (I still have no idea how he knew when I was reaching for my shoes. He must’ve had some ingrained sort of nemesis-sense.)

Now, you might be asking, Milk, how on earth did you escape? Did you pull off some clever and daring maneuver? No. It was because someone else happened to be stupider than I was.

We’ll call him Baseball Cap Guy. Baseball Cap Guy enters the park, sees the turkeys, and decides it’s a really smart idea to attempt to PET Turkey Number Two on the head.

That went about as well as you would expect.

Turkey Numbers 1 and 3 immediately put aside their differences to tag team Baseball Cap Guy. Inspirational, really. Turkey Number 2 resumes eating berries and seeds, supremely unbothered and supremely disgusted.

And I, Milk, take advantage of the commotion to jam my shoes onto my feet, snatch up my blanket, and hightail it out of the park. I use the remaining 5% of my battery to inform my mother and friends and roommate that I have not, in fact, been murdered by the turkey mafia. Then I made straight for home, hoping against hope that Victorian Maiden Turkey wasn’t tailing me or hiding behind a bush waiting to trip me and suchlike.

Now, it would be easy to think that the Baseball Cap Guy was an absolute idiot for trying to pet a wild turkey. I’m not saying that’s an incorrect conclusion. However, there was a point during the first wave where Turkey Number One was approached by an older lady on her afternoon power walk. I was hoping against hope I wasn’t about to watch a sweet old lady get mauled by a turkey. She, delighted, whips open her phone and begins to coo—actually coo— at the bird like she’s his auntie, like ohh, what a handsome little man you are! Your feathers are so soft—and how puffy you are, mister! and all that.

And—Turkey Number 1 absolutely eats that up. He struts back and forth, posing for her and clucking at her and letting her take her fill of photos for a solid 5 minutes.

So. My current hypothesis is that there is a Continuum of Turkey Vibes, ranging from Old Lady (preen for photoshoot) to Milk (???) to Baseball Cap Guy (attack on sight).

And uh. That’s the story, folks. I survived finals, returned home unscathed, and have spent the summer anticipating a rematch. I’ve also spent some time reflecting—it’s strange, having a nemesis. I’ve always wanted a nemesis. I didn’t quite picture them as a turkey, per say, but for some reason it just feels right, yknow? I think we’re compatible. I both dread and oddly look forward to our next meeting.

You’ll be pleased to know that the first thing I did upon returning to school this fall was go back to the park, ya know, like a fool. The first trip was pretty quiet. I introduced Turkey Number Two and some of her besties to my mom. I went back once to study at the park. That time, I met no less than 12 turkeys, many of which were little turklings. I think I introduced them to my mom, so I get to meet the family now? Unsure. Anyways.

I also witnessed a man, with a golden retriever and a turkey sitting side-by-side in front of him. The man tossed dog treats one after another to the golden retriever and to the turkey. (Spoiler alert: this one ended with a pack of five turkeys chasing the man and his dog down the street once he ran out of treats.)

Fun fact! Did you know turkeys can fly? No, really—not just “hold themselves aloft for short distances” but like “fly up into extremely tall trees, making a colossal ruckus as they beat their wings rapidly and gobble and yell?”

Anyways, once it was growing quite dark and impossible to make out anything other than the silhouettes of no less than five gigantic birds looming high in the branches above me, ready to launch themselves directly on top of my head at a moment’s notice, I decided it was time to exit the park for the evening.

I still haven’t run into my nemesis yet. That’s okay—I think I’m beginning to infiltrate the turkey ranks a bit. And I know he hasn’t forgotten about me. He’s just out there, biding his time.

Please admire these photographs of my nemesis as well as his magnificent ass. Thank you for your time.

#I. have no explanation I blacked out for an hour and this happened. I'm sorry #milk/maren divorce/marriage drama #not mbs #legal disclaimer Turkey Number Two bears no relation to Number Two Mysterious Benedict Society

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hyunin · 1 year

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HAPPY NEW YEAR!! 🥳 🎊

HELLOOOO EVERYONE i am going to make a new year post after all! currently beginning working on this at 11:32 pm because i know it’s going to take me a while and i thought it would be nice to spend the turning of the new year talking about my friends. i also hope you enjoy this header i’m using it because i’m too lazy to make a cute one and i might later and also one of my friends said do it or no balls.

honestly this year went by incredibly quickly for me. it was pretty uneventful, which might be a good thing!! i did get to meet two of my best online friends in the world when i saw stray kids live this summer, and that was probably top 10 days of my life!! so i’m really thankful that happened this year if nothing else. i’m one year closer to graduating community college as a part time student, and i’ll be turning 26 this month 😭 but you know, making it another year in itself is a big accomplishment if nothing else! i’m proud of everyone that made it another year and thank you for being here with me to read this post. i really appreciate all of you, whether we’re close friends or simply beloved casual mutuals, or if you’re even just a follower of mine; thank you for putting up with and even enjoying my sporadic posting and vaguely unhinged tags and gifs and other content, whether here or over on yangjeongin.

this will be my third turn of the new year i’m celebrating with everyone on tumblr upon return from my seven or whatever year hiatus, and it’s crazy that i’ve been giffing again since 2020. some of you have been with me since all the way back then and i’m so thankful!! i didn’t spend a ton of time on my dash this year (thank u to my bad internet that takes forever to load thereby making it an incredibly frustrating experience!) but i have more in the past several weeks and i’ve really enjoyed it!! i’m hoping that only continues into 2023.

i do want to specifically thank some people for making my life on tumblr (and in general) better in 2022, but know that even if i don’t write you a specific message i still am so thankful for you keeping me company on tumblr dot hell in whatever way you have this past year!

i’ll put all my love for everyone under the cut and i know i will forget someone and feel bad but i cannot overstate how much i love all my mutuals enough!!

first of all, to @minijeong @miyawaki @redvelvetcult @bataranqs @seulggi my awoo9ers, thank you for being part of my life every day. i love reading back what u guys have said in the gc and i love seeing your content and chatting with u and your wacky n wild senses of humor, being your friend for the past few years has made my life better and i’m looking forward to making more memories in 2023 🎉 i love u!! i do want to call out a couple awoo9 members in particular though because i have more specific things to say!!

iwin - @anyujins ; hiii i feel like there’s so much to say but also so little?? but we started talking at the beginning of this year and have talked so much since and i just wanted to say i have really loved talking to u and getting closer to you this year. i genuinely feel like i can talk to you about anything and i am soso thankful for that and for u supporting me and i’m really glad that i can do the same for you! i know 2022 has been a rough year for you so i hope 2023 is better. for both of us!! haru - @minhos ; u probably won’t see this post and GOOD because i hate getting mushy with u. gross icky ew. but you know how much i appreciate and love you (or at least i hope you do) thank you for being my friend for so many years and for essentially creating my personality bc i think all of my interests are your fault SDFSDGSDG but thank u because in the end it’s all made my life better and so have you tee - @ddonghyun ; we haven’t talked much (or at all?) this year but i think you were the first friend i made upon my return to tumblr so know i am really thankful to you and still think about you a lot whenever i’m on this account <3 i haven’t seen you on my dash in a while and i don’t know if it’s just bad timing or you are finally escaping the black hole that is tumblr but either way i hope 2023 treats you well! eri - @wonjinist ; ultimately we haven’t been mutuals for that long but u deserve ur own message because every time i see u, despite us rarely speaking and just being mutuals that see each other and support each other on dash, i’m like omg that’s my friend eri. i simply consider u my friend regardless of how much we’ve actually interacted so thank u for your effortlessly friendly warm and kind personality that makes it feel so natural to simply be your friend <3 i hope u have a great 2023!

then we move on to the stayblr pals!! there are a bunch of you that have made my life on tumblr better in the past couple of years including (but not limited to) @agibbangs @binsuns @hyunchanz @hanjesungs @seunges @minzbins @leenow @cherry-heartss @huiracha @avocadomin @innielove @jisungs thank you for all of your wonderful content and personalities on my dash! i hope to see more from y’all in 2023 and maybe we can talk some more too!

li - @connecteds ; hi beloved!! another year of me on tumblr means another year of being friends with you. sometimes it’s fun on here and sometimes it’s not but even if my time here was an absolute terrible garbage shitshow it would be worth it because i got you out of it. i’m getting emotional and i’m sitting in the living room watching new years specials with my mom rn i can’t cry LMAO but thank you for always making me laugh even when you’re having a hard time and for otherwise being so full of love, and every day i’m so grateful that some of that love is for me <3 i told you we’ll always be friends as far as i’m concerned, no matter how much or little we talk, and i really mean that. no matter what we do or where life takes us there will always be love in my heart for you. i know 2022 was really hard for you so i hope the world finally gives you back some of the love and happiness you’ve put out into the world in 2023 💫 and u know i’m gonna be here for it!! adri - @skz-films / @hyunebear ; i’m not sure which account to tag you on asdfasdgdsg i know we’ve like never spoken but i think i will always remember the gifset you made for us on yangjeongin and how much you said we inspire you that really touched my heart so thank you again :( i think about that whenever i see you on my dash and it makes my heart feel a little warmer every time i do and i think we can always use more of that in life, so thank you for making mine a little brighter this year kep - @seungknow ; kep i miss u!!! i just wanted to say hi because you deserve your own message. thank u for being my friend, and i’m glad(?) we have moved from being together in stayblr hell to pc collector instagram hell. great. amazing. may 2023 bring us many dream photocards ✨ abia - @seungminhos ; abia! i didn’t talk to you too much in the past year but i couldn’t just lump u in with everyone else it felt wrong!! missing u and the seungminhos content but i hope 2022 was okay and regardless, that 2023 is better because we can leave all that in the past now. love u <3 luna - @seunglixes ; i wanted to give you your own shoutout just to say thank you for all you do for createskz! i know life is so crazy for you sometimes but you still always do your best to keep up with the net and i think you do such an amazing job, i really admire u for that so thank you for your work and for creating such a great place for stay ccs to come together and find other great content agnes - @hyunjinz ; agnes angel beloved the fact that we have not actually spoken very much outside of tumblr tag conversations blows my mind bc you are so dear to me! thank you as always for supporting me in my stayblr endeavors even before yangjeongin existed, and for continuing to, and for being such a cornerstone in this community whether you’re making content yourself or not. you do such an amazing job of supporting everyone and i think that’s so admirable of you and really shows what a pure and kind heart you have. i hope 2023 treats you with just as much kindness!! marie - @seo-changbinnies ; marie comedic icon, free stand up show every time you’re on my dash, your tags will always be legendary. i know you’ve been going thru it recently so hang in there and know i appreciate u and miss u but it’s also so okay to take your time and focus on more important things than silly little gifs on a goofy blue website. i love you and hope 2023 brings you only good things!! vilma @hyunpic ; vilma angel...even writing this about u is making me sleepy...i’m just kidding i was already sleepy. i have always loved u but i love u even more now that we are talking more, it has been lovely!! thank u for your unhinged tags and absolutely abundant love and kindness not just for hyunjin but for everything around you. you are genuinely such a sweet person and just seeing you around boosts my serotonin so please continue doing what u do and i will message u next time i’m having trouble falling asleep <3 happy new year SZDSDGG lotta - @jizung ; lotta i think last year (or the year before?? idk) i made a post like this and said ur tags were funny and that i hope we talk more AND I FEEL LIKE WE SUCCEEDED?? either way i do consider you a friend now and also wanted to say, do not tell anyone else, but u are like in my top 5 if not top 3 ccs on this entire site i think your gifs are so nice i think u could just send me a link to every new thing u make and i would be overjoyed to see it. so here’s to another year of us making content and talking occasionally (maybe more in 2023?), i hope it’s the best one yet! ri - @foxinys ; ri!! omg u know we’ve only been talking more in the past few months mostly because of unfortunate circumstances but i regularly think about it like, well, a lot of shit is going on but at least i’m talking to ri more and that’s nice??? and i do rly enjoy talking to u! and your gifs of course. i will never forget ur gemini abundant birth chart and the fact that i guessed correctly (sort of) despite us barely talking at the time SDSDGSD and i love that <3 my astrology friend said based on the charts of people i’m friends with i tend to be drawn to gemini heavy people i think this means we were meant to be friends so may 2023 bring us friendship under better circumstances! and many other good things mia - @seungs ; mia honest to god i’ve been working on this post so long i’m getting tired ASDFSDGSDG but i love u and your content, thank u for the support and for being mary’s #1 fan in particular, sometimes i still think abt that anon that asked what grip mary had on u and laugh. i hope 2023 brings us many good things and more mc lino gifsets ✨ mona - @hyunsung ; same as above i am sounding like a broken record at this point but!! love your content and i appreciate our tag communication. we are friends as far as i am concerned i have decided this i hope u agree SDFSDGSDG but much love and good vibes for the upcoming year!! i hope we can talk more in 2023 also cassie - @seo-trashbins ; i know i talk to you like every day so i could say all of this to you anytime and i think you know all of this but i wanted to include you in this so you could see something nice next time you check tumblr. i love you very very much meeting you in person this year was genuinely one of my favorite experiences of my life. thank u for being such a good friend for all of these years. 2023 will be TEN YEARS of us being friends. thank u for loving me even when i was an annoying 15 year old and all the time in between to now. i love you!! you are funny and kind and otherwise a wonderful friend and person that i feel very lucky to know at all let alone be friends with. one day i’ll come visit you in toronto and maybe u will have ur own place and i will simply move in and live under your bed. that’s like actually the dream for me i’m ngl. but until then i’m really happy to go into our 10th year of friendship and that it’s so many of them at this point that it doesn’t even feel like that big of a deal for another new year to pass. i hope we’re friends forever 💗

OKAY ENOUGH!!!! if you read all of these for some reason you’re insane btw but thank you??? and for anyone that isn’t on here, i will once again reiterate that i appreciate you regardless. i did just get kind of burnt out i could only write so many of these SDFSDGSD but much love, i hope this post brightens your day a little and helps 2023 get off to a little bit of a better start ✨ happy new year!

#carly.txt #this took over two hours to write btw #me using small text so this looks a little less long asdfasdgadsg #but i love doing stuff like this thank you for everything everyone and happy new year <3

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alittlebitgoofy · 1 year

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Hiii! I am definitely in the Spice and Sugar brainrot right now, do you have any head cannons for them? (Or just Spice, as I see your tumblr has much more posts about her 🥰

you opened up pandoras box here bestie you may live to regret this /lh

i'm going to list sutff and go into detail if my brain says so, if not it'll just be a dumb sentance

sugar is the smarter twin, she's not smart but she can do basic addition and multiplication which is more than spice

spice has the brain of an orange cat

twin telepathy is real and they communicate through looks

(specificaly for the college au) they both study fashion and are pissed they got put in different classes for some stuff despite sugar studying more crafting/design oriented things and spice doing photography

spice does not know how to talk to anyone other than sugar for long periods of time, has been known to just repeat stupid shit to get some kind of a reaction and gauge from that whether she's doing the social thing right or not

sugar is an inch taller, spice is 57 mintues older

they share pretty much everything but spice is very particular about how her wardrobe is organised (by type of clothes, then fabric then colour) and if sugar tries to hang something up spice will commit a crime ...she learns to leave stuff on spice's bed

sugar always has to help spice with her essays

adhd/autism twin combo

they have a tradition of watching some kind of show (usually antm or some sitcom they watched as kids) every friday. nothing is allowed to intterupt this. if it does all hell will break loose

they argue about the dumbest shit but always have each others back, someone called sugar annoying once and spice had to be dragged off before she broke something

spice is very capable of breaking things and has done in the past especially when she's emotional. girl is dangerous.

they eat more carrots than any sane person would, peppered carrots. always. only. the people who live on their floor wonder who the fuck is eating a bag of carrots a week. the twins are strange creatures

ok now i'm going into spice specific headcanons bc i wanna talk about her and luxx as a duo/couple/gay people:

no one is allowed to touch her hair without explicit permission, the only real exception is luxx or sugar. if not she will flip her shit

she refuses to wear pink, it's sugar's colour. same with sugar and red

spikes. spikes on everything. she just likes touching them

has an uncanny ability to just read emotions to the point luxx is a little scared, she just knows something that no one else does

she is always ready to give the bratz timeline at the drop of a hat, sometimes just does because she's bored.

scared of spiders despite loving the aesthetic, squeals to sugar to deal with them or luxx if she isn't around.

luxx is never concerned about spice realising they like her because everything goes straight over her head

it takes sugar pointing out that the way she talks about/looks at luxx is not platonic for spice to even realise she has feelings for them

needs affection to survive, very touchy. spice is the only person who's allowed to cuddle luxx

both of them have echolalia, spice mimics luxx a lot who will just mimic her right back. sugar tells them to shut up

#asks #ateneablack21 #s15 #sugar and spice

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bestfriend491 · 1 year

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I wanted to say something earlier, but couldn't find the words, especially with how I am dealing with the end of my college school year, work, and move-out. I wanted to give my best thoughts in voicing my support.

You're in the same boat I was when I first joined Tumblr, yet far more interactive, which comes with its own responsibility and safety concerns. From what you've shared (and thank you for sharing, as you really didn't have to, but shows how mindful and proactive you are, which is more than most), you've been careful as can be from your end. You're aware of how old the demographic majority is, and the biases that will come with it (people automatically aging you up in their head), and are compassionate enough to want to curb making anyone uncomfortable.

I want to take the time and apologize if I have made you uncomfortable in any way, and will be going over any replies I have made that are inappropriate for a minor (In the midst of following more adult Shuri/Riri x Reader content). I was 15, obviously, and I know you're not a naive baby, but that's what should be done on my end. And honestly I bounce between so many BP tumblr pages I can't quite remember fully how I've interacted with you.

You shouldn't have to, but I respect that you called out would-be problems that may try to harass you and how you won't stand for it. I'll spam the hell out of the spam/report button if need be.

On to more positive things, you are a phenomenal writer, and (if you have a particular passion in continuing writing) will only get better! I hope your time here motivates and encourages your confidence in that skillset as you apply it in the future.

I hope you are well, stay well, and remain safe. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, but I cannot stress enough to be extremely mindful of people on here and the internet in general.

I hope I worded all that well enough. 🤔 Take care!!

I really appreciate this entire message, as well as your support. 🥹

You've been nothing but kind to me and as far as I'm concerned, you have never interacted with me in ways that have made me uncomfortable or in any ways that wouldn't be appropriate. Nobody has, really. (Which I'm very grateful for)

Over the past months I've grown a love for writing that I never thought I'd have. I've been a semi- writer since I was 12 but besides one random wattpad story that got some attention, I didn't really get all that into posting until last year.

I saw a situation with a minor who lied about their age a couple weeks back and for some reason my anxiety went sky-high; though I wasn't involved in that situation in any way and the person in question behaved with the fandom much differently than I do.

I realised that I genuinely want writing to be a big part of my future so the thought of misleading anyone and possibly tarnishing the trust I've build with others that have been so supportive made me decide to make things clear.

I'm very weary of the bad people, but I'm glad I have a few people on my side too.

Again, you've really done nothing wrong and neither has anyone else I've personally interacted with.

Thank you. ☺️💕

6 notes · View notes

jazwritesalot · 2 years

Text

Mocha Choco Latte - Chapter 3: Caramel Iced Coffee

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou/Bakugou Katsuki, KiriBaku Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Current Word Count: 21,000 Tags: Aged-Up Characters, AU- College/University, AU- No Quirks, AU- Coffee Shops & Cafes, Barista Bakugou, Actor Kirishima, slow burn, background IzuOcha, mentions of Bakusquad, rated for language, Bakugou Katsuki swears a lot, Bakugou Katsuki is bad at feelings, drinking, house parties

Link to AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter summary: Alternatively titled: Katsuki has an idea and all hell breaks loose

The perfect opportunity appeared a few weeks later during the middle of his Thursday night shift. Sugar Rush was decently busy thanks to it being midterms, and Katsuki was seething. He didn’t mind how fast-paced it was—he actually preferred to be doing something rather than loitering around. What he was pissed about, however, was that Kaminari was supposed to be here to run the register for him while he ran the front line, but he was nowhere to be seen, which left Katsuki scrambling between the register, making the drinks, and running orders out to the tables while Izuku kept up with the food orders by himself in the kitchen. He had just dropped off a couple of teas to the small green-haired girl and large bald guy studying at the table by the windows when the bell at the door chimed again, making him grit his teeth in frustration. He hoped, for Kaminari’s sake, that it was him walking through that door, and not another customer. He took a grounding breath before turning around and nearly jumped out of his own skin when he took in who was standing before him. It was Kirishima—of course it was Kirishima—but that wasn’t what startled him. No, it was how devastatingly handsome he looked. The tacky costume he usually adorned was traded in for a pair of distressed black skinny jeans that were cuffed above a pair of faded and scuffed Docs, a black and red plaid button down, and a dark-wash denim jacket that was littered with various patches. What really took the cake, however, was the lack of the usual spikes; his hair reached to his shoulders, the strands and bangs in the front framing his face while the rest was neatly tucked into a black beanie.

Katuski was startled and floundering for words when Kirishima looked up from his phone and gave him a blinding smile.

“Dude! I was hoping you would be working tonight,” he grinned, which left Katsuki reeling. He had so many questions for him, the top two being why did he never message him and why did he want Katsuki to be working today in particular.

“You don’t look as shitty as usual today. I’m impressed,” is what came out of his mouth instead, and he cringed. Smooth Katsuki. Real smooth. A high-pitched yell of ‘you can’t say that, Kacchan!’ came from the kitchen, but Katuski chose to ignore it. There were more important matters at stake than what stupid Deku had to say. Kirishima blinked owlishly at him before busting out into a loud and boisterous laugh that made Katsuki want to further crawl into the grave he was digging himself.

“Thanks man! I actually tried today.” As his eyes swept over the menu, Katuski could feel his heart racing. This was what a heart attack felt like, wasn’t it? But this was ridiculous—he still was slightly angry with him for ignoring him for the past few weeks. He shouldn’t be standing behind the counter like a flustered school boy, waiting to confess his love to the man of his dreams. That wasn’t Bakugou Katsuki. Never has been, never will be.

“What can I get for you?” he finally managed to ask, trying to appear nonchalant, though perfectly content with waiting on him for the rest of the night. Screw all of the other extras who needed food. They could wait.

“I think I would like to do that American style breakfast you guys have. The one with the scrambled eggs. Bacon and sausage please. Meat is my favorite!” he exclaimed and Katsuki fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course he would be a meathead both figuratively and literally. “And for the drink, I’d like a large caramel iced coffee. Need that caffeine, ya know?” His wide grin was contagious, a small smirk playing on Katsuki’s lips as he completed the transaction.

“Go take a seat. I’ll bring you your food and drink when it’s done,” he said, handing the cash card back to Kirishima.

“Sounds like a plan, my man! I can’t wait!” He popped his headphones in and took off to find a corner seat by the windows, and Katsuki was finally able to release the deep breath he had been holding. Why was it so hard for him to stay mad at this literal ball of sunshine? It just wasn’t fair.

“Here you go, Nerd. It’s for Kirishima andI will be the one to take his food out to him this time, got it?” Katsuki threatened as he handed the order ticket over to Izuku.

“Kacchan, you need to be nice to him. One of these days he isn’t going to be so welcoming to you calling him ‘Shitty Hair,’” he warned, taking the ticket from Katsuki.

“Iam being nice! I said he looked less shitty today!”

“Oh my God, you can’t just tell people they look shitty at all! What is wrong with you?” Katsuki scoffed at him and grabbed the large glass for the drink, but he knew that his cheeks were burning in embarrassment.

“Why are you turning red? It’s not like you… oh holy shit. You’re trying to flirt with him, aren’t you?” Izuku exclaimed and Katsuki whipped around, baring his teeth at him and glaring.

“Shut up! Do you want the whole cafe to hear you?” Katuski was thankful Kaminari was late, because he would have a field day with this. He was also thankful for the lull in the influx of customers.

“This is just so totally you, Kacchan,” Deku laughed as he worked on the food, the bacon sizzling on the stovetop. “You are totally going about this the wrong way, though.”

“Oh really? And what would be the right way, Mr. I-Cried-About-Cats-to-My-Girlfriend?” Katsuki took a smug pleasure in Deku’s face flaming bright red at the call out.

“H-hey! This isn’t about me right now!” he stuttered out. “This is about you and your inability to convey your emotions to others in a normal way.”

“Oh yeah? And what should I do then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe start by not scowling at the man! I honestly don’t think it would kill you to smile at him. Hell, it may even make his day.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll try it your way, you heathen,” Katsuki grumbled as he filled the glass with the caramel syrup, ice cubes, and chilled coffee. He may have been slightly aggressive with his stirring of the milk, but no one would be able to prove it. He was just adding a small hill of whipped cream and some caramel syrup to the glass to finish the drink off when the front door flew open.

“Oh my God, sorry I’m late!” Kaminari announced to the entire cafe and Katsuki ground his teeth in frustration. He was only half an hour late. Jackass. “You wouldn’t believe how long the customer at my last job was talking to me for. You would think that a man who spends his entire day talking to people on the radio would not want to talk to any more people than necessary, but boy was I wrong. Not that I’m complaining though—dude is chill as hell.” He was steps away from the drink bar, from clocking in for his shift, when his attention was drawn to the redhead sitting at the window. A wide grin split his face and he threw his bag behind the counter and bounded over to him, taking the cup from Katsuki as he was on his way to deliver it to Kirishima, and slammed his palms on the table to get his attention, which worked flawlessly as the other jumped, ripping his headphones out of his ears before smiling wide at him, the toothy grin blinding Katsuki from his place behind the counter as he seethed, glaring daggers at the back of the blond’s head.

“Denki! My man! How are you doing?” Kirishima asked, standing and pulling the smaller man in for a bear hug after taking the drink from him.

“Been doing great! You know, gotta make that money—I’ve been working nonstop between here and Chargebolt’s, with the occasional show thrown in. Speaking of,” he smiled wide, “there’s a show tonight at Tape Deck. I think it would be perfect if the birthday boy were to grace it with his presence.” Wait a second—it was Kirishima’s birthday?

“I don’t know, man. It’s been ages since I’ve been to a show,” Kirishima admitted with a bashful smile, scratching the back of his neck.

“All the more reason for you to come! It will be great—I’ll even do a special song just for you!”

“I’ll think about it. What’s the address again? It’s been too long.” Katsuki knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping—it was wrong—but he couldn’t help but to scribble the address that the idiot spewed off onto a piece of receipt paper before stuffing it in his apron pocket. It wasn’t his fault that Kaminari talked for the whole cafe to hear. And it wouldn’t be crazy for him to debate going to the house party himself, not that house parties were his thing, of course.

“Happy Birthday again, man! I better get back to work before Blasty over there rips my head off. I can already feel his eyes drilling a hole in the back of my head. Hopefully see you tonight!” he called and jogged over to the make line.

“It’s about damn time you show up, Spark Plug,” he grouched as Kaminari finally got his apron on and settled behind the register.

“Oh don’t get your panties in a twist, Bakugou. You could run this place with your eyes closed without my help.”

“Just because I could doesn’t mean Iwant to. How do you even have a job still? You’re always late.”

“It’s because I’m Sato’s favorite,” he grinned. Katuski was trying his hardest to not roll his eyes, but by god was it hard. Kaminari made his blood boil on a good day. Most others he was just insufferable. He took a deep breath and decided to be the bigger man by ignoring Kaminari’s jabs and antics; he was pretty sure that if he got into a fight with the Annoyance, Sato could and would punish him by making him work more shifts with him. And that was something he would rather not deal with, thank you very much. His salvation from Dunce Face came by Deku announcing the order was up. He quickly swiped it from the window with a pointed look at Kaminari, who just gave him a sly grin before making a quick stop at the pastry case, discreetly choosing one—a cinnamon bun—to add to the order. When Katsuki arrived at the table, Kirishima didn’t even notice he was there at first. He was focused on his textbook, a small frown marring his face as he tapped out a beat against the table. Normally, Katsuki would just place the plate of food on the table where there was free space, but the idiot had study materials strewn out about the entire surface of the table. He awkwardly cleared his throat, causing Kirishima to startle and look up at him, pulling out one of his headphones as he scrambled to make room on the table for the food.

“Thanks man! Sorry about the mess. You can put that here,” he laughed, finally making a small space for the plate. He looked between the cinnamon bun and Katsuki with a confused pout that shouldn’t be as cute as it was.

“Heard the loudmouth say it was your birthday. It’s on the house,” he grumbled out, averting his gaze as Kirishima let out a blinding smile. Stupid, overly cute actor.

“You didn’t have to do that! But thanks a lot, man. I really appreciate it.” Katsuki grunted and scratched at the back of his neck, not really knowing what more he should say. Should he just directly ask him why he had been ignoring him, or would that be too blunt to do to someone on their birthday? He wasn’t sure what type of magic this man had, but his earlier irritation with him seemed to melt away.

“You know, I’m glad you’re the one who brought me my food this time,” Kirishima snickered as he took a bite of one of the sausages, effectively halting Katsuki’s current train of thought. He was confused—he ignored him but was happy to see him?

“That other employee, Midoriya I think his name is,” he continued around his food, “he’s a sweet guy and all, but he is very intense. He honestly freaks me out a bit. And, you know, I appreciate you giving me his number and all that, but he is most definitely not my type,” he laughed. Of course Deku had to come in and screw stuff up for him. That stupid, fanboy of a nerd—wait what did he just say??

“Hah?” he questioned eloquently. “The hell you just say, Shitty Hair?” He had to be imagining things, right? There was no way that he said he gave Kirishima Deku’s number.

“That you gave me Midoriya’s number? A couple weeks ago, you wrote his number on my drink.” Kirishima was looking at Katsuki like he grew a second head, which was about how he felt right now.

“No I didn’t! Why in the hell would I give you that shitty nerd’s phone number?” he asked, trying to mask his panic with indifference.

“Uh, hate to break it to you man, but you totally did. Here, I took a picture of the cup as proof,” he laughed, handing his phone over. Katsuki zoomed in on the picture of the drink and he felt his heart plummet. Staring back at him was Deku’s number—it looked like the last digit had smeared when he had handed the iced drink over those few weeks ago. This was just another reason why he despised that his and Deku’s numbers were only one digit apart from one another.

“I texted expecting to hear back from you, but imagine my surprise when it was the fan from the cafe. I thought I made a mistake, maybe the barista did mean to give me the cook’s number, but then later he was messaging me asking me to text his buddy Kacchan for him. At least, I think that’s what he was asking. The dude seemed pretty drunk. And then whoever I texted seemed pretty pissed off that night, so I guess I had the wrong number?” Katsuki felt his heart fall to his stomach as the implication that he blocked Kirishima caught up with him. “But you know,” the redhead continued, oblivious of the other man’s panic, “if you weren’t meaning to give me his number, then whose number were you trying to give me?” Kirishima asked with a sly smile as Katsuki wordlessly handed him back the phone. Bakugou looked at him with wide eyes, brain working overtime to try and come up with a response for him.

“Yo! Kacchan! I could really use your help here!” Kaminari called from the register, unknowingly becoming Katsuki’s savior. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that a small line had formed while he had been in the midst of his gay panic.

“Oof, looks like things are getting busy for ya. I won’t take up any more of your time. Thanks again for the birthday pastry.” He shot him one more smile before popping his headphones back in, and Katsuki took that as his cue to turn tail, pushing past Kaminari and immersing himself in drink orders to hide his mortification. Of all the stupid things he had done in his life—not that there were many of them—this one had to take the cake. He could feel Deku’s eyes boring holes into the back of his neck, but now was not the time for them to discuss what happened. Not with Dunce Face within hearing distance. He let his mind float away as he fell into the mind-numbing repetitions—ice, coffee, milk, syrup, blend, pour—and before he knew it, the rush was coming to a halt and the customers dwindled down to nothing.

“What a shift that was, right Kacchan?” Kaminari asked as he stretched his arms above his head, an audible crack filling the air.

“Quit calling me, Kacchan, moron,” Katsuki grumbled. “Besides, this isn’t even the worst it can get. Just wait until finals week.” As he wiped down the steamer, he glanced out into the lobby, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed to see that Kirishima had left while they had been busy. But maybe it was better that he left, considering he still hadn’t figured out a way to tell him ‘hey, sorry I was a jackass and blocked you’ without coming off as the world’s biggest asshole. There were a few stragglers left in the lobby, but it looked like they were packing up, which was one less thing for Katsuki to do.

“Hey buddy, do you mind if I dip early?” Dunce Face asked as he leaned against the counter, batting his eyes at him. “I have the show to get ready for tonight and it would be hella cool if you let me go now.”

“Whatever. It’ll be quicker if it’s just me and Deku closing anyway,” Katsuki grit out.

“I don’t know if I should be offended or not by that, but you know what? I’m not going to question it. You’re the best Kacchan! See ya!” he laughed, dodging the cleaning rag that Katsuki chucked at him as he clocked out and bolted out the front door.

“So, Kacchan. What the hell happened earlier? You look like you saw a ghost when you were talking to Kirishima,” Deku asked as he came out of the kitchen to collect the dishes.

“Oh, you know, just came to find out that one, I gave the man the wrong number the last time he was here, and two, when he actually did text me, I cussed him out and blocked him,” Katsuki groaned, leaning his head against the counter.

“You did what???” Izuku squeaked out, slamming the container on the counter.

“Oi! Don’t be shrieking at me like a banshee, nerd. You could have told me that you had his number and I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place,” Katsuki snapped back as he bent down to retrieve the rag he threw at Kaminari, tossing it onto the pile of dirty dishes.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I told you I would get Kirishima to talk to you, and I did. You were the one to mess it up.”

“No, you were drunk off your ass, so anything you were spouting as you were blubbering on my back was liable to be bullshit and you know it. That wasn’t my first Drunk Deku rodeo.”

“We’re gonna have to agree to disagree here, Kacchan,” Izuku sighed and returned to collecting the dishes. “I don’t see what the big deal is, though. You have his number; why don’t you just unblock him and apologize?”

“You’re kidding me, right? Let me just shoot him a quick message like ‘hey, sorry I told you to fuck off—I actually like you and didn’t mean to block you. I just thought it was my roommate pulling a prank on me.’ Like he would believe that over a text message,” he grumbled.

“Look at you, admitting you like Kirishima. I’m proud of you, Kacchan!” Katsuki sent him a withering glare, which the nerd had the audacity to laugh at. “So, you want to apologize to him in person, then? That will be a little hard considering his visits here are so sporadic, due to his schedule. Then again, he is friends with Kaminari. Maybe we can get him to reach out and arrange a time to be here when you’re on shift. But that would mean we would have to fill Kaminari in on what happened, which could be an issue since you—”

“Cut it out, Deku.” Katsuki really didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to deal with one of Izuku’s ramblings right now. As he went to grab his phone from the apron pocket to check the time, he came across the crumpled up receipt paper. He frowned as he pulled it out, not really remembering what it was, but when he saw the address hastily scrawled out, he suddenly knew just how he would be able to make up for his mistake.

“Uh, Kacchan, what’s that grin for? You’re scaring me,” Izuku said while slowly inching back toward the kitchen.

“Let’s get this close done quickly. I had an idea and it’s time I cashed in on that favor you owe me from the Disaster Date.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

This was a stupid idea and he knew it; had midterms to study for, so why he was letting a little crush dictate his actions, he didn’t know. Especially when he wasn’t even sure if Kirishima would be there. Despite this, the two of them continued their trek to the aforementioned ‘Tape Deck’ that Kaminari wouldn’t shut up about during their shift.

“Are you sure this is the right place, Kacchan?” Deku asked as they arrived, taking in the large, slightly dilapidated building. It had definitely seen better days, that’s for sure. Some of the shingles on the roof were missing, the pale yellow paint on the drooping siding was chipped away, and there were cracks in the foundation. If it weren’t for the group of people outside of the house smoking, drinking, and talking amongst themselves, Katsuki would have sworn that Kaminari had given them the wrong address—not that he had actually given it to them in the first place.

“Holy shit...Bakugou?!? Is that you?” Speak of the devil. Kaminari broke away from the small group and made a beeline for them, stopping short and blinking in surprise before a devious smirk broke out across his face. “Bakugou AND Midoriya? Are my eyes deceiving me?”

“Oh shut up, Dunce Face. And put some damn clothes on,” Katsuki grumbled at him while Izuku gave a meager wave. Why Kaminari was wearing a cropped, neon-yellow denim vest as a shirt, with a matching pair of converse, and black leather pants was a mystery to Katsuki.

“Why? Am I turning you on?” he asked with a smirk and a lifted eyebrow as he fiddled with the choker at his neck. Katsuki clenched his jaw and fists in irritation, simultaneously ready to just give up and go home and plotting how to get away with murder, when Kaminari burst out laughing, bending over and clutching his sides.

“I’m just kidding, man,” he gasped out between laughs. “Oh my God, you should have seen your face!” He wiped a tear away from his eye as he straightened back up. “In all seriousness, I never imagined I would see either one of you here. No offense.”

“Well, when you kept yammering on about it to the customers, it made me curious, okay?” Katsuki pouted.

“Would this have anything to do with Kirishima?” he asked slyly, slinging an arm over Katsuki’s shoulder.

“Why would it have anything to do with Shitty Hair?” Shoving Kaminari off, Katsuki took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest and threw an impressive glare his way.

“Well, hewas the one I invited here, not you two. Besides, this doesn’t really seem to be your scene,” Kaminari shrugged. “Speaking of, what areyou doing here, Midoriya?”

“I owed Kacchan a favor. That, and I don’t have a midterm tomorrow, so I figured why not?”

“Ooooh, does this mean it’s both of your guys’ first time at a house show? This is going to be awesome! Follow me!” he beckoned, talking over the two of them as they tried to respond.

“Are those lightning bolts on your back?” Deku questioned and Katsuki scoffed. Leave it to Dunce Face to have a tramp stamp.

“Yupp! Just a reminder that there’s passion in my pants and I ain’t afraid to show it,” he winked, leading them past the group of party goers and into the house.

“You’re a menace to society,” Katsuki grumbled while Izuku chuckled loudly. They found themselves in the kitchen, which was also filled with people milling about. The beat up couch to the left was home to a couple who was in the midst of an animated conversation about which model of guitar was better. There was a table shoved up against the wall on the right of them, which held an assortment of snacks and liquors. A faint thrumming could be heard from below them, but it was overpowered by the pulsing beat of a song coming from another room that gave Katsuki flashbacks to middle school. It must have done the same for Deku, if the look of horror he was wearing was any indication.

“I thought there was supposed to be live music. What’s with this shit?” Katsuki’s griping was cut short by a door by the snack table being flung open, Jirou storming through it and making a beeline for another room in the house. What had once been a faint noise was now jarring feedback reverberating through the entryway.

“There is live music, but it isn’t going to start for at least another hour,” Kaminari explained as he shut the door, drowning out the noise from downstairs before crossing over to the fridge, grabbing three beers.

“An hour? Then why were you saying it started at nine?”

“Dude! Any respectable punk knows that when you say one time, you clearly mean that that’s when the bands start to arrive for sound check,” Kaminari laughed, passing the beers over to the two of them.

“What type of horseshit is that? Why not just say the show starts later then?”

“I don’t know, Kacchan. It makes sense to me, sort of. People start to arrive so they can hang out and enjoy the scene, right?” Izuku asked, cracking open his beer with a wary face. Good—the nerd better not get trashed like last time.

“That’s right! My mans Midoriya gets it!” Kaminari exclaimed as he draped an arm around his shoulder. “It’s all about the ambiance. Gotta get your head in the game before the show starts. And by in the game, I mean piss drunk,” he grinned before downing the beer with speed that was both impressive and slightly terrifying. Jirou came storming back through the kitchen and flew down the stairs, muttered curses coloring her words. An impressively tall man came sauntering in after her and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his heavily tattooed arms. He was dressed pretty plainly—a pair of dark skinny jeans, beat up tri colored vans, and an oversized Dead Kennedys muscle tank that showed off the side piece tattoo that creeped up the right side of his neck. His long hair was shaggy and loose around his face, which was adorned with multiple piercings: snakebites, a nose hoop, and dimple dermals that caught the dim kitchen light as he laughed at Kaminari.

“Only you liked to get pissed drunk before the shows, Denki. I don’t think there’s ever been a time I’ve seen you sober at a show.”

“Gotta live life to the fullest, man,” he laughed. “Bakugou, Midoriya, this here’s Sero. We call him Long, Lean, and Lanky here!”

“You’re the only one who calls me that and you know it,” Sero groaned, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, nice to meet you both. How do you both have the unfortunate pleasure of knowing Kaminari here?”

“I resent that statement! Beer?” Sero nodded and Kaminari went to fetch him a drink.

“Work,” Bakugou grunted, trying to not be obvious with how his eyes were roving the room, looking for Kirishima as people started to filter into the small kitchen.

“Wow, you’re a man of many words.” Deku, the traitor, laughed at Sero’s comment, so Bakugou shoved him lightly. “Work, you say? At the cafe or are you both electricians too? I would say the bar, but you two don’t seem the type who would be into that scene, no offense.”

“Oh, we work at Sugar Rush with Kaminari,” Izuku quickly said before Katsuki could get in a word.

“Yupp! Blasty here is the Head Bitch—I mean Head Barista in Charge and Midoriya is the cook!” Kaminari chimed in, tossing the beer at Sero and wrapping his arms around Izuku and Katsuki, who quickly shook him off.

“The cafe, huh. Interesting,” Sero cryptically muttered before cracking open his drink. They stood there, the awkward silence eating at Katsuki and making his skin itch, as Sero seemed to mull over his words.

“So,” he started as Katsuki took a swig of his beer, “How long have you two been together?” he asked, gesturing between him and Deku and Katsuki choked. Kaminari burst out into raucous laughter, holding his gut as he gave a few huge whacks to Bakugou’s back.

“Wha-? Me and Kacchan?” Deku squeaked as his face flamed bright red.

“Why the hell would you think me and that shitty nerd are dating?” Katsuki coughed as he shoved the still laughing Kaminari off of him.

“You two seem pretty close,” he shrugged. “I just assumed since you came together that you were together.”

“Haven’t you ever heard about what happens when you assume shit, Soy Sauce Face?” Katsuki growled. “Besides, Deku here isn’t even gay,” he said, jabbing a thumb in Izuku’s direction.

“I’m not straight either, Kacchan,” he fired back before snapping his mouth shut, cheeks flaming once again.

“What did you just say?” Katsuki asked, blinking at him.

“You heard me loud and clear, Kacchan. I’m not straight,” he said defiantly before shrinking back on himself a bit. “I-I guess you would say I’m bisexual. Though I haven’t actually been with a guy before, I'm definitely not opposed to the idea. In fact, if I wasn’t dating Uraraka, I would totally be willing to date a guy. I mean, have you seen Todoroki Shouto?” Sero snorted around his beer at this. “Definitely my celebrity crush. That man is totally walking eye candy, and if I had a chance to meet-”

“Please, for the love of everything, stop,” Katsuki groaned as he cut off Deku’s rambling. “I am entirely too sober to deal with your gay awakening right now.” Kaminari was set off into another round of hysterics as Katsuki pushed past him and yanked open the fridge, grabbing two beers for himself.

“You should have seen your face, Kacchan! You went from ‘oh my god, I’m gonna kill this man’ to ‘oh hell no, Midoriya did not just say what I think he said’ so quickly I think I gave myself whiplash,” Kaminari snorted as he tried to pilfer the unopened beer from Katsuki’s hand.

“What have I said? Don’t ever call me Kacchan, Dunce Face, or it will be the last thing you say. And get your grubby hands off me. There’s a fridge full of beer—you don’t need mine,” he bit out, shaking the blond off him.

“Rude! Sero! Make him give me the beer. It’s your house!”

“He’s right, Denki. There’s really more where that came from. Just go get another one.” Kaminari pouted and walked over to the fridge dejectedly.

“Can I have another one too? Really didn’t think I would be outing myself at a house party of all places,” Izuku sighed and Katsuki felt a pang of sympathy for him, not that he would say it.

“Of course, broski! And you don’t have to worry about us at all. This is a homo-safe home, same-team homie,” he grinned, passing the beer over to Izuku and hanging off him like a koala.

“Not like you live here, or anything,” Sero quipped, a smirk on his face as he finished his beer. “It’s been nice meeting you both, but I need to go see how the band is doing with setup. Jirou was pretty pissed off.”

“Why is the lovely lady so angry?” Kaminari asked and Sero let out a long sigh.

“For starters, we had to move up Dark Shadow’s set because Loud Cloud is nowhere to be found.”

“Shirakumo? Missing? Who would have thought?” Kaminari snickered, and Sero shot him a glare.

“You know that moves your set up too, right? Anyway, Ei is also MIA, meaning that they’re now down their rhythm as well. If we don’t hear from him soon, then it looks like I will have to fill in for him.” Soy Sauce face and Dunce Face continued chatting about music and Katsuki nursed his beer, trying to not sulk too much. There was still no sign of Kirishima, much to Katsuki’s dismay. He knew it was a bit of a long shot, especially since Kirishima never gave a definitive answer, but he was hoping that his gut instinct wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t sure why, but he just had a feeling that Kirishima would actually show up tonight.

“You okay, Kacchan?” Deku asked as he escaped from Kaminari’s hold on him, sipping on his beer occasionally as the conversation continued to unfold despite Sero’s attempts to disengage.

“Just peachy, nerd,” he grunted. “You know,” he said after a pause, “you didn’t have to out yourself at a party like that. So, are you like, okay or whatever?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Izuku shrugged. “It was bound to come up eventually. I also wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t trust you or Kaminari,” he said, picking at the hem of his green flannel.

“Oi, knock that off. You’ll bust the stitching. But I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Aww, Kacchan being nice? I never thought I’d see the day!” Kaminari exclaimed, turning his attention away from Sero, who took the opportunity to sneak away.

“You’re not going to see tomorrow if you keep calling me Kacchan,” Katsuki grit out.

“Oh, shush. I know your bark is wayyy worse than your bite. Anygay, come on! You gotta get that full Tape Deck experience, and you won’t get that by just loitering around in the kitchen,” he insisted, worming his way behind the two of them and pushing them toward what Katsuki assumed was the living room on a normal day. Currently, it looked like a clusterfuck of bodies all sprawled out across the couch, loveseat, and folding chairs. The table was decorated with plastic cups and an assortment of crunched up booze cans and the air had a thick haze of smoke that made Katsuki’s eyes water. Deku wasn’t faring any better, given the coughing fit he was currently in the midst of. There was an impressive stereo system off to the side of the seating area, which was currently blaring music that Katsuki was positive would be haunting him for the next few weeks. Whoever allowed Kaminari the ability to pick the pre-show music should be shot on principle alone.

“Sit, I’ll go get us some more beers!” Kaminari exclaimed after shoving them both to the now-unoccupied couch. Katsuki grit his teeth in annoyance but didn’t fight it—for once he was out of his element, even if only by a little. At least he was dressed more appropriately for a show compared to Deku. While his roommate was sporting his green flannel that was opened to a white shirt that had SHIRT printed across it in English with a pair of jeans and sneakers, Katsuki opted to wearing a dark grey v-neck tee with a pair of black skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees and a pair of black combat boots. He also had lined his eyes with a ring of eyeliner and touched up his black nail polish. As he finished off his beer, he had to admit to himself that the other reason he wasn’t fighting Kaminari’s antics, yet, was because he was doing this for a chance to make up for his piss-poor behavior toward Kirishima. He fought the urge to check his phone, even though he knew Kirishima was still blocked, and turned toward Deku, who looked like he would rather be anywhere but there in that particular moment. A petite blonde woman was sitting so close to him that she was nearly on his lap, an honest-to-god creepy smile stretched across her face as she invaded his personal space.

“Mans is taken, Toga, back off,” Kaminari chided, shoving her off of Deku with his foot as he returned with the booze. She snarled at him, the dangerous glint in her eyes enough to make Katsuki uncomfortable, before she pushed herself off of Deku and threw herself onto the lap of an older blonde man with a long scar down his forehead, who welcomed her with a hearty laugh.

“Sorry about Toga, Midoriya. She can be a bit handsy, but she mostly means well. Otherwise, Awase and Shoji wouldn’t have hired her. She’s definitely crazy in the chair though—she had the bolts on me faster than I knew was possible.”

“I wouldn’t trust her anywhere near my skin with a needle,” Katsuki barked out, taking the proffered beer.

“Like you would let anyone near your skin with a needle, Blasty,” Kaminari teased while perching himself on the table across from Katsuki. “I bet you don’t even have a single tattoo!” Katsuki snorted and rolled his left sleeve up to show off his shoulder cap—a mix of grenades, smoke, and explosions decorating his skin.

“You were saying, Dunce Face?” he smirked as Kaminari’s eyes went wide.

“Holy Shit, Kacchan, that’s a sick tattoo! You’re cooler than I thought you were!” Katsuki rolled his eyes as he adjusted his shirt. Izuku was muttering to himself as he sipped at his beer and scrolled through his phone.

“Whatcha babbling on about over there, nerd?” Katsuki asked as he got more comfortable.

“Just going back and forth between texting mom and Uraraka to get the plans for this weekend hammered out,” he said off-handedly, more absorbed in his messages than the actual conversation. Great—now he had to either sit in an awkward silence or continue conversing with Dunce Face as he tried to not look around the room like a lost puppy for any sight of Kirishima. Thankfully, Kaminari, and the shitty music surrounding them, was able to fill the void as the minutes passed. Kaminari interacted with many of the patrons of the party, pulling Katsuki into wild conversations that he really didn’t care about, but it made him feel like he actually fit in, which was nice, considering he didn’t have much interaction with others outside of Deku. Which, in retrospect, was slightly worrying, but now was most definitely not the time for him to get sucked into that train of thought. They continued on like this for a while before a loud vibration shook the living room, causing both Katsuki and Izuku to sit up in a panic and look around as everyone else stood up and made their way out of the living room.

“It’s about TIME! Come on! The show is starting!” Kaminari exclaimed, hopping up and waving them toward the door. Izuku stood and followed Kaminari, but Katsuki hesitated, trying to fight off a pout as he looked toward what he assumed was the front door.

“Oh come on,” Kaminari groaned, rolling his eyes. “Kiri knows where the basement is. Whenever he gets here, he will find us. Now, stop being such a grumpy lil bitch and come downstairs.”

“What did you call me?!” he growled out as he jumped up from the couch, ready to kill Dunce Face.

“You heard me, Kacchan. Now come on—I’m pretty sure we’ve already missed the first song and I’ve got a Jirou to impress over here,” he sighed impatiently shoving the two of them toward the basement.

“I’m sure she will be totally impressed with you dressed like a cheap hooker,” Katsuki bit out and Kaminari snorted out a laugh.

“Hey, I resent that! I’m more of a high-dollar escort rather than a hooker. But that’s neither here nor there. May I present to you men, Tape Deck!” he shouted over the cheers as they entered the basement. If Katsuki had thought that the living room was a waking nightmare, he was sorely mistaken and wholly unprepared for the showroom. There were strands of twinkling lights wrapped up with Halloween garland hanging from the ceiling around the entirety of the room. The walls were littered with show posters and canvases, and what wasn’t filled with those was filled with graffiti. A mattress was propped up against a door that led to the outside, and the area to the right of where the band was set up had a mismatch of lawn chairs, bean bag chairs, and a couch with a table in front that was covered with more crushed up cans. Katsuki had to fight a grimace at the floors, which his boots were sticking to, as he followed Kaminari up toward the front of the crowd, Deku trailing behind them.

“Thank you everyone! It’s nice to see you all here tonight! But you’re not here to listen to me talk, so let’s get this shit on the road!” Jirou called out as the band moved into their next song, her haunting voice filling the air before the drums and guitars kicked into gear. Jirou looked every bit like she belonged right on the makeshift stage, her body swaying to the beat as she belted out the lyrics while she plucked at the strings of her bass. Soy Sauce Face was to her left carrying the tune on the rhythm, and behind her there was a massive silver-haired man banging out the beat on the drums and Katsuki was now entirely convinced that he was related to Kirishima in some way or another. And to Jirou’s right there was a person shrouded in a pure black hoodie shredding out the lead and providing vocals for the chorus. Katsuki squinted, thinking that the combination of his shitty genetics and the poor lighting were deceiving him, but to his horror, neither were.

"Is that a freakin' bird mask?" he shouted at Kaminari over the music.

"Oh yeah! That's good ol' Tokoyami for you," he laughed. "It's his schtick. Kinda like the one band we had play here whose lead wore one of those Snuggies and a wizard hat. Man, they were great. Maybe they will come back one day." Katsuki blinked. What in the hell was up with these people?

"But man, you should be so glad that you're getting to see Tokoyami with this mask," Dunce Face continued prattling on all while shoving people who were thrown at him forward. "The last one was the thing of my nightmares, I swear to god. It was like a kindergartener's Papier-mâché project gone wrong. Rumor has it that the band used the money from their merch table for the first few shows to all pitch in and get him the glorious mask seen now. No one knows where Budget Birdman went to. And no one wants to know."

“You all are nuts, I swear to god,” Katsuki guffawed. “What do I do with this?” he asked, gesturing to the empty can in his hand.

“Just crunch it and toss it—damage control clean up is tomorrow morning,” Kaminari laughed, taking the can and disposing of it himself.

“I didn’t know Jirou was this good of a singer!” Deku shouted, leaning forward so both men could hear. “I mean, I’ve heard her sing to herself at work when she thinks no one is paying attention, but I didn’t think she was this talented!”

“Kyouka is a beast when it comes to music. I’ve always dabbled around with mixes and stuff myself, but it wasn’t until I met her that I actually learned to play an instrument. I owe a lot to her,” he sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“You’ve got it bad, you idiot.”

“Like you have any room to talk, Kacchan. I saw how you were interacting with Kirishima today at work. Boy, you are whipped!” he cackled and Katsuki could feel the blush creeping up his face. Stupid electrician who was too observant for his own good. “Hanta, babe! You’re looking great!” he called out to Soy Sauce Face as they were transitioning to the next song, effectively changing the conversation, which Katsuki was thankful for. The energy of the room was chaotic, the small group of people by the ‘stage’ pushing at one another as the bass line mixed with the lead guitar to create an intoxicating rhythm for everyone to move their bodies to. Kaminari had moved up toward the throng of people, throwing himself into the chaos with maniacal laughter while Deku stayed close to Katsuki, sipping on his beer and swaying to the music. As the songs would come to a close and fade into the newer ones, even Katsuki found himself being impressed with how well the band was playing, even if he was confident that he could play the drums better than the Tin Can. He wondered, briefly, what the band would sound like if this mysterious Ei person had shown up, but that was quickly expelled from his head when a fist connected with his face.

“What the fuck?” he growled as he staggered back, wiping drool from his chin. His shirt was soaked and he was seething. He whipped his head around and he swore he saw that Toga chick from earlier smirking as she threw herself back into the fray.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Calm down, Kacchan!” Dunce Face pleaded, flitting over to his side and holding him back. “It’s just a mosh pit! Shit like this happens all the time. You just gotta shrug it off!

“Shrug it off? That bitch just punched me in the face!”

“It was probably an accident man. A casualty of a good time.” Katsuki squinted his eyes in suspicion at Kaminari, who leveled him with his own stare, off-handedly pushing people back into the mosh pit as they were thrown his way. “Come on, man. Live a little—what’s the worst that could happen? Or are you too much of a wuss to get a couple of scratches and bruises?” he taunted and Katsuki saw red.

“I’ll show you who’s the wuss, Dunce Face,” he grit out before cautiously stepping into the horde of people, trying to dodge the elbows and writhing bodies. Kaminari immediately threw himself at him, and he pushed him away quickly, throwing him toward another party-goer. There was a small rush he felt as he got to throw the other man around, and he immediately understood the appeal of mosh pits. His grin became manic as he really threw himself into the fray.

“Alright, ya heathens! Last song of the night, in honor of the birthday boy here!” Jirou announced and Katsuki perked up, scanning the room for any sight of Kirishima when he realized that Jirou wasn’t talking about him, but was instead talking about the possibly-related-to-Kirishima drummer. Before he could let the disappointment set in, the room filled with the feedback from the guitar before the drums picked up, and he felt his adrenaline kicking in. The song definitely had a grunge feel to it, which was right up his alley. He felt sudden appreciation for the Tin Can for his choice of music.

“Hell yeah! This is some real Dark Shadow right here!” Kaminari shouted as he jumped nearly a foot in the air before launching himself towards his next unsuspecting victim. Between the beat and the surprisingly haunting vocals from BirdMan, Katsuki felt himself getting thrown into a trance of thrashing. He felt more free than he had in months—honestly, this was the most free he had felt since the beginning of the semester—and now he understood why his classmates decided to go to parties. He felt like he was on top of the world, like nothing could ever make him crash down.

Of course, that had to be when everything went to shit. He had made his way back to the edge of the mosh pit to catch his breath when the tall man who Toga had been hanging all over in the living room came staggering backwards toward him, knocking him into the person behind him. The two of them hit the ground, and Katsuki swore he heard a sickening crunch from below him.

“Man down! Man down!” Kaminari shouted as he appeared from nowhere to help Katsuki up. “You okay?” he asked.

“Just peachy,” he grunted out, eyes narrowing at the large man who was profusely apologizing to him before escaping back to the crowd. He turned back around at Kaminari’s exclamation of ‘oh shit’ and he felt his stomach drop as he took in Deku clutching at his arm, tears rimming his eyes as Dunce Face gingerly helped him up.

“Kacchan, I think it’s broken,” he whimpered as they moved away from the crowd and toward the stairs.

“What do you mean broken? Aren’t your bones like indestructible or some shit from breaking them all the time as a kid?” he asked in a panic, to which Midoriya fixed him with a deadpan stare.

“You and I both know that’s not how that works.”

“Fuck. Yeah, you’re right. Shit I’m so sorry Deku. I didn’t mean to… Fuck!” He was close to pulling his hair out at this point. Kaminari looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t have the words for it, which was preferable, really. Katsuki wasn’t sure he could take any of Dunce Face’s ramblings right now.

“It’s not your fault. Come on, we gotta get going if we want to make it to the hospital at a decent hour,” Izuku sighed, already maneuvering his way up the stairs. Katsuki blindly followed him up the stairs, mind moving a million miles an hour as he contemplated just how entirely pissed Auntie Inko was going to be with him over this. Here he was, getting Deku in trouble just because he was a love-struck fool, not that he would ever admit that out loud to anyone, the nerd especially. He wasn’t watching where he was going and collided with someone else, falling on his ass for the second time that night just as he stepped outside.

“Hey man! Are you ok—wait? Bakugou? ” the other asked incredulously and Katsuki’s head snapped up to see Kirishima standing over him, his hand outstretched in an offer to help him up. Katsuki quickly took it, floundering for words as the man he had been searching for all night was now right in front of him, hauling him up, and he couldn’t get his mouth to cooperate. Just as he was about to finally get a sentence out—specifically ‘how did you know my name?’—Deku interrupted.

“Kacchan? Where are yo— oh,” he squeaked as his eyes flitted between Katsuki and Kirishima. He looked like he was about to say something else but winced in pain instead as someone passing by accidentally jostled his arm. Right—he couldn’t keep making Izuku wait while he was making a fool out of himself.

“Thanks,” he finally managed to grit out as he pulled his hand free. “I’ll see you around?” he asked and turned away without waiting for an answer. Deku gave him a questioning look but otherwise kept his mouth shut as they left Tape Deck. As they settled on the train towards the nearest hospital, Katsuki rested his head in his hands, ignoring the shrieking from Auntie Inko as Izuku called to let her know what was going on, and let the fatigue sit in. The look of disappointment that crossed Kirishima’s face as Katsuki walked away from him was haunting him. His only hope now was that he didn’t screw up his chance to make things right with Kirishima. Surely there would be another opportunity, right?

#jaz writes #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kiribaku #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #long fic #chapter 3 #mocha choco latte #On the Rocks #also on ao3

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pretttydemonwrites · 2 days

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Thoughts - June 4

Happy Pride Month Motherfuckers!

My writing has been pretty sporadic for the past couple of months. I'm not surprised really, I knew that setting a goal to write every day was going to ultimately wind up with missed days, but that was never really the point of this anyways. Whether I do it every day, every other day, or a couple times a week or whatever, I've already written way more this year than I think I've written in...let's just say it's been a while.

I'd like to expand on why that's happened, why I found myself falling out of love with the thing that I straight up decided to major in while I was in college. (Hint: college definitely had something to do with it)

I pinpoint the start of my love of writing around the age of eleven. At the time it was all My Chemical Romance self insert fanfiction and typical My Immortal style vampire stories. A little after that, I started branching out into doing text RP on Gaia Online and that's when I made my first real OC, Cassandra. Stuck her in a less than savory asylum themed roleplay and that particular group I would go on to do several different plots with. That was all through middle and high school, and those roleplays fueled my writing. I still wrote some MCR fanfiction during that time too, but I was branching out! Original stories, original characters, poetry, hell I did NaNoWriMo in like...2011 for the first time and fuckin crushed it.

I was pretty confident about my writing honestly. My friends and I liked it and that's kind of all I gave a shit about. When I started contemplating going to college and eventually decided to major in creative writing, that's when things started to take a bit of a turn.

For one thing, I don't particularly enjoy criticism! I also don't enjoy being told what format/genre/etc to write in, and when you get into advanced creative writing classes (at least at my college) then they usually focused on specific genres. For instance, I took a novella writing class, and a one-act playwriting class, and a....poetic playwriting class? Gun to my head I couldn't tell you what that one was officially called.

Now, obviously I recognize that the point of these classes was to allow you to branch into different formats, learn the conventions of them and use that knowledge to strengthen your skills. But I was a stubborn bastard and I only wanted to write my stuff.

That being said, my work often felt like it was undermined and looked down upon because my influences were very obviously YA/fanfiction/genre fiction based, whereas everyone else seemed focused on being as pretentious as possible, trying so desperately to be the next great white male author. I was resentful of that, and couldn't understand why my writing was seen as immature in comparison to my peers.

Long story short, I think those feelings kind of festered in me all through college so that, by the time I graduated, I had no intentions of ever turning my writing into any sort of career. I felt discouraged and pretty hopeless about my prospects, so once I was out, I was more concerned with figuring out how I was going to survive and pay rent, and I knew that my writing wasn't going to pay those bills. So I just...let it go for a while.

I'd write something here and there, sure. I think I might have even tried to submit a couple things. By and large though, what once consumed a vast majority of my free time was became something of a past life. "Back in the day I was a writer" and such.

And yet, it was still always one of the first things I would tell people if they asked me about my interests. ("Oh I'm a writer. What have I written lately? HAHAHAHA!") I couldn't let that part of my identity go. It had been a huge part of me for half my life, how could I abandon it?

So it was there, always, even if I didn't do anything with it. And then I got into DnD and other TTRPGs and I was doing text RP again and I realized that....I can still write? I'm still an actual writer? And I could write again if I really wanted to, if I could find a way to push past the discouraged feeling in my gut.

So that's what all this has been for, really. I could go on for a while about this complex relationship I have with writing, but it honestly feels so fucking good to be back in it, to be back working at something again. It's not perfect, I've definitely forgotten a lot of the useful shit I did learn in college, but I think that I could get there again.

If you read through this whole thing, I can only assume that you related to it in some way and if so, I hope you're coming out on the other side of things feeling hopeful for yourself too. Thank you, as always, for reading.

#thinking thoughts #I am gonna do another numbers round up at some point #but i shan't make promises as to when

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shig-a-shig-ah · 3 years

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LAYING CLAIM

» pairing: dabi x fem!reader

» cw: dubcon, revoked consent, noncon (we’re going on a journey, okay?), rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, crying, gratuitously fanon characterization. 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Started this months and months ago, and since I’m finally getting around to wrapping some WIPs, I guess you can have it now. Thanks @thebiggergroove for beta-reading!

» wc: 5.3k

» ao3 mirror

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The thing about Dabi is he's not usually a possessive guy. Fucking is fucking, as far as he's concerned—it doesn't really matter who is doing it with whom as long as everyone is getting off on it. But goddamn if there isn't something about you that makes him want to make you his.

And he's gotten that, more or less. It took some sweet talking and cajoling, and a few late nights where he made you come until you couldn't see straight, but you agreed not to go sleeping with anyone else. Sure, you've made him promise the same, but that's fine. Not that he's going to actually stop, of course, but he goes out on recruiting missions alone and he figures what you don't know won't hurt you.

That's all enough to satisfy him, at least for a little while. But then a few weeks pass and there it is again: that stupid jealousy and all those unbidden thoughts about the people you were with before him. People he knows. You never talk in too much detail about your past hookups, but he's not stupid, is all too aware that he's not the first one in this ragged band of miscreants that you've crawled into bed with. You've fucked Jin, and Shigaraki, and probably even Magne, god rest her soul—Dabi hadn't missed the way the two of you had huddled up giggling in the corner of the old bar one night, disappearing together unusually early, making those bedroom eyes at each other. And in theory that's fine. Nothing wrong with two girls having fun together, after all. Hell, bi chicks are hot and Dabi wouldn't mind taking advantage of that someday.

But first he needs to find a way to get the image of you with your legs spread for half the League out of his goddamn head.

If he's being honest, it's Shigaraki who bothers him the most. Magne is dead. Jin is a decent dude and, Dabi has to imagine, tame as a kitten in the sack. But Shigaraki, well...Dabi can tell just by looking at the guy that he's a freak, and the idea of you riding Shigaraki's dry, crusty dick, of letting him do who-knows-what filthy shit to you? It just gets to him.

And then Toga has to suggest that stupid game and go putting ideas in his head.

You're all sitting around the crumbling office space that passes for a hideout, drinking to celebrate the League's first successful double-amputation (because fuck that germophobic, transphobic prick), and blondie is just begging to play a drinking game. Normally Dabi doesn't go for that shit—why anyone needs an excuse to get wasted is beyond him—but he's in a good mood, and you make that adorable pouty face as you tell him that you played in college, that it's really fun, and somehow he finds himself sitting in a circle on the dusty floor with the rest of you losers playing 'I haven't' or whatever the fuck it's called.

It's all bland shit to start. Toga's never driven a car, Shigaraki's never gone to school. But, after you've made your way around the circle once, everyone seems to be loosening up and Spinner takes one for the team by getting to the interesting shit and admitting he's never slept with a girl. It spurs a moment of awkward silence made all the worse by his red face and obvious self-consciousness about being a virgin, but then Compress stage-whispers "Neither have I," before winking salaciously at the blushing lizard and taking a dramatic pull from his beer bottle. It's enough to lighten the mood.

After that, Dabi's forced to admit it's a decent game. There's not much he hasn't done sexually or criminally, and since those are the two topics everyone focuses on, he finds himself getting hammered faster than usual. It's a good thing too—his buzz makes it easier to ignore the look you and Shigaraki exchange when Jin announces that he's never tried watersports, easier to pretend his gut isn't twisting at the knowing smirk on your leader's face as he raises his beer bottle to drink and you follow suit.

That particular moment makes it all the more surprising when, on your next turn, you hide an embarrassed face behind your hand and announce that you've never taken it in the ass.

Dabi can't stop thinking about it the rest of the night. Obsessing over it, and the idea of being your first, your only, even if only in some less than conventional way. The thing is, it's downright tame in comparison to a lot of what you two get up to, so barely even kinky that it's almost impossible to believe you've never tried it. Sure, you've never done it together, but he'd just figured neither of you were all that into it, since it hadn't come up when you were doing lewd shit to each other.

That kind of sex is fine from his perspective, but only fine. He doesn't actively seek it out because in his mind nothing beats the feel of being balls-deep in a warm pussy, but that doesn't mean he hasn't done it. He's hooked up with plenty of girls that were into it and has always been happy to oblige; hell, he's even taken it more than once, on account of the fact that when it comes to the bedroom he's willing to try anything twice.

But doing it with you? Well, that thought sticks. The two of you finally go to bed and Dabi's so turned on by the idea of your virgin ass that he can't help testing the waters, prodding teasingly at that tight hole with one spit-slicked finger until you're squirming away and whining. He doesn't manage to convince you right then, but he makes those puppy dog eyes that are far more effective than they have any right to be, and you agree to give it a go in the future.

"Not here," you specify, the words fuzzy on your drunken tongue. "Someplace nicer, with a real bed." You already have your reservations, and you certainly don't relish the idea of undertaking that particular venture now, on a worn mattress in this falling apart building, with its paper-thin walls and complete lack of hot water. Between your booze-fueled haze and the seeming interminability of the League's poverty, you mostly forget about that casual promise by the following morning.

But Dabi doesn't. He picks up a small bottle of lube the next day and carries it around in his pocket shamelessly, a little reminder that he has something to look forward to besides roasting that prick Endeavor, and he strokes himself off to the idea more than he's proud to admit as he waits for the League to move on to better things. He can be patient, when he needs to be.

That patience takes a toll though, and the minute the League settles into their new digs in Re-Destro's sprawling villa, where there's actually privacy and clean, comfortable beds, Dabi shows up at your door with a cheshire grin and every intention of finally getting something from you that's just for him.

You grimace when you remember that promise, try briefly to talk him out of it even, but he isn't so easily dissuaded. It's made all the harder by the fact that you can't give him a specific reason why you've never tried it, beyond that it seems uncomfortable and you hadn't particularly enjoyed the couple instances when you'd allowed someone to slip a finger or two in there.

"C'mon, baby girl," Dabi coos, his breath hot in your ear as he pins you to the wall, working two unnaturally warm fingers into your cunt. "I'll make sure it's good for you. Be gentle, get you nice and warmed up first, all that sweet shit."

It really is unfair how persuasive he can be when he fixes those pleading turquoise eyes on you. The way the pads of his fingers are curling just right deep inside isn't helping either, and he teases you like that until you give in to his cajoling, though you still insist on waiting a couple nights so that you can do your research and make sure you're entirely prepared. Dabi demonstrates his appreciation by burying his face in your cunt and not surfacing for air until you've come three times and are begging for a break.

When the night finally arrives, Dabi's feeling positively giddy. He slips into your bedroom with a bottle of wine and a couple glasses he's brought, a little something to help you relax because he's a gentleman when he wants to be. It should be good booze too—he lifted it from Re-Destro's private stash, and he's certain baldy doesn't drink anything that costs less than ¥30,000. Of course, Re-Destro doesn't love sharing either, but the uptight prick is too scared of Shigaraki to complain about anything the League does. They all take advantage of that, because they can and because it's fun to watch him bite his tongue when they piss him off.

You don't make it easy for Dabi to focus on pouring the drinks though, not when you're reclining in that armchair by the window, freshly showered and fidgeting nervously. He was half-erect before he got here from just thinking about what he was going to do to you, and the sight of you acting like you're some blushing virgin spurs him all the way to rock-hard. By the time your glasses are close to empty, he's straining uncomfortably in his pants, and can't fight back his impatience any longer.

"What do you think, doll?" he murmurs, setting his glass to the side and standing up, shrugging his jacket off before leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. "You ready to move this to the bed?"

The way you chew at your lower lip anxiously before nodding makes his dick throb.

You empty your glass with one final, large swallow, your heart racing as you rise. You know it's stupid—you and Dabi have fucked countless times and a lot of it hasn't exactly been vanilla—but it's been a long time since you've actually tried anything new. His obvious excitement doesn't help either, paradoxically; it leaves you fretting about what will happen if you're somehow bad at this, or if you can't take it and have to stop. You've never really worried about disappointing him before, but now the thought weighs acutely on your mind.

It's with halting steps that you approach the bed and then, when you can't realistically drag your feet any longer, you finally tug the nightgown you're wearing off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor to reveal what's underneath.

"Damn, baby girl," Dabi breathes, looking you up and down. You'd figured that since it was a special occasion you might as well dress up, donning a strappy bra and panties. They're little more than elaborate, crisscrossing pieces of lace, all white since he'd seemed so fixated on this pseudo-innocent, first-time act. His reaction doesn't disappoint, eyes lighting up as he stares at you hungrily.

You let yourself fall back on the bed, nestling against the many pillows. The look on his face has your stomach fluttering, and the wine has helped you to relax a bit despite your nerves, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout your body. It's joined by a different kind of heat when you feel the mattress dip beneath Dabi's weight as he positions himself over you, one knee resting between your thighs, just barely brushing against your center, a hint of what's to come.

"You look so good I could just eat you up," Dabi whispers hotly against your ear before tracing his lips over your jaw. Even though he wants to take his time, let himself savor this, it's taking every ounce of patience he has to keep the promise he made to get you worked up and ready for him, to not to tear those pretty bits of satin and lace off and have his way with you right then.

You whine eagerly when his mouth slants hungrily over yours, savoring the feel of those mismatched lips, the way the rough skin of the bottom one contrasts so deliciously with the top. Hot hands run over your sides as the kiss deepens, your tongues tangling together, and you moan against him.

When you finally break for air, Dabi moves his lips to your throat, his tongue lapping at your pulse before he sinks his teeth into you. He loves to mark you up, loves making sure everyone can see that you're indisputably his, and it's even hotter now that he knows he's going to fuck you in a way no one else has. You're shivering beneath him as he works, your hand tugging insistently at his hair, and Dabi lets out a low, throaty growl.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's eager, huh?"

Your hips tilt in response, pressing needily into his firm thigh, and Dabi can feel the skin on his cheeks straining against his staples as he grins. He traces one hand up over your ribs, cupping at your supple breasts, teasing your hardening nipple through the flimsy fabric of your bra. Those deft fingers work under the seam of your lingerie as he shifts his weight, increasing the pressure against your center while he pinches and tugs at the peaks of your breasts until you're whimpering, spreading slick along his leg even through your thin panties.

Dabi pulls away abruptly, rolling onto his back and tugging at you to change positions, shaking his head when you move to mount his hips.

"Come here, baby girl," he says, his tongue tracing over his bottom lip. "Like I said, I wanna eat you up."

The promise in those words sends a bolt of heat straight through your core as he guides you to straddle his face, hot breath tickling your inner thighs. One calloused thumb brushes your clit lightly through your underwear, blue eyes sparkling when your breath hitches at that soft touch. When he pulls that useless fabric to the side and runs his tongue over your already-damp slit, you shudder.

Dabi lets out a pleased groan at your reaction and gets to work more earnestly, lapping at your sensitive nub, licking and sucking until you're moaning and only then shifting a little so that he can lap at your insides, that same rough thumb replacing the pressure of his tongue on your clit. It strokes firm circles as he buries that hot, wet muscle inside you, the metal barbell there teasing your inner walls as you grind involuntarily against it. You can't help but whine when he withdraws it, but that disappointment is quickly replaced by you startling as that same wet muscle extends further back to tease at your puckered entrance.

"A-ah, Dabi, wait," you protest, your face heating up self-consciously almost at once.

Dabi pauses, shifting just enough to keep his reply from being muffled as one warm hand runs reassuringly up your thigh. "I don't think I can help myself, doll," he says, his slick-coated lips splitting into a wide grin, "you just taste too good."

That heat in your face worsens as he dives back in, not even waiting for you to respond before he's flexing his tongue to poke at that tight ring of muscle. You still try to squirm away, feeling unprepared for this. You hadn't even considered it among the possible activities were volunteering to participate in, but Dabi is holding you firmly in place with the hand not working at your clit, and when another whine of protest escapes you, it's weaker than the first. The foreign sensation of his tongue against your neglected hole has you hyperaware of the press of his thumb at your apex, and you can feel tension building in your core even as you writhe in embarrassment.

It's as though he knows, too, and you suppose maybe he does; after all, he's the one who's done this before. He thrusts his tongue a little deeper, rolling your clit between two hot fingers with enough pressure to cut off any further protests. A long moan is the only sound you can muster as you spill over the edge, your thighs clenching around his head and your hips jerking shakily as you ride out your climax with his tongue still buried obscenely in your rear.

Dabi's face is covered in your juices by the time he slides from between your thighs, and he wipes it away carelessly with one arm as he repositions you again, pinning you on your back and wasting no time peeling away your now-soaked panties. He grins at the sight of your glistening folds and swollen clit before stripping off most of his own clothes, kicking them unceremoniously to the side and relaxing between your legs, kissing at your still-trembling thighs.

He teases at your sensitive cunt with his fingers, coating them in your juices as you whimper. "Ready for a little more?" he asks, and you nod despite the fact that your cheeks are still burning from before and your stomach is knotting with nerves.

"Just...go slow, okay?"

"Of course, baby girl," he promises, "I told you I'd take good care of you." With that, he starts to work you open, dipping one finger into your tight hole just until he reaches the first knuckle, working it in and out slowly. His other hand toys at your clit, stroking and rolling that puffy nub again, making you mewl.

Dabi waits until you're relaxed before trying any more, pulling away from you just long enough to dig the lube from the pocket of his discarded pants, coating his fingers with it. He works that lone finger deeper this time, in and out until it's buried to the last knuckle.

The sensation is strange, but not entirely unpleasant; even if you think you'd rather have that finger curling in your cunt, the slight stretch is still adding to the faint throb already growing inside you, the one that worsens when his thumb returns to your apex.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Dabi growls when one well-placed stroke of his thumb has you clenching lightly around his finger. He ruts his hips against the sheets, trying vainly to find some relief for his aching member, but it's not enough—he needs to feel you, needs the vice-like grip clutching his fingers to be wrapped around his cock, and he needs it soon.

You feel him withdraw to add more lube, and then he's fingering you again, adding another digit to stretch you wider. It comes with a stab of discomfort when he forces his way past the second knuckle, and you reflexively try to pull back. "Dabi, that's too much."

He abandons his soothing attentions to your clit, one warm palm pressing you tight against the mattress to keep you in place, stroking soothingly at your hip. His breath tickles over your inner thigh as he chuckles softly. "If you can't take this, how are you ever gonna take me, hmm?" he says teasingly. "You're doing great, baby, just relax."

You will yourself to unclench, trying to picture Dabi's satisfied face once you're taking him, that adoring look he sometimes gives you, the one that you relish. Your efforts are only marginally effective, but Dabi keeps pushing deeper, fucking you slowly but insistently with those fingers, and when you don't complain again, his thumb returns to caressing your sex.

"That's a good girl." Dabi picks up the pace, cursing under his breath. "You're doing so good."

You're wriggling against his hand now, trying to increase the friction at your center, not quite minding the foreign sensation of his fingers and the uncanny fullness they bring so much now that there's heat thrumming in your core. "Y-yeah, like that," you pant encouragingly, and Dabi grins.

"That doing it for you?" he purrs. "Think you can take more?"

You start to shake your head—the stretch now feels like all you can handle—but Dabi's already adding a third slick finger, shoving it in with less restraint than before. You feel more than discomfort this time when three knuckles breach your asshole, and it quickly dampens the arousal that had been steadily building. "Dabi, slow down," you gasp.

"Aw, are you sure you can't handle it?" His blue eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide with arousal as he looks you over with the hungry gaze. "'Cause if I'm being honest, it feels like you're trying to suck me in. Like this greedy little hole wants to get fucked."

The huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, even as another whine of discomfort escapes you. For just a second his expression darkens slightly, but then he's slowing his movements, twisting his fingers instead of thrusting them in and out.

"Better?" he asks, and you think you catch an edge of impatience in his voice.

It is better though, a little at least, enough that you can focus on the way your cunt flutters every time his thumb strokes over your clit. So you just nod; it's not like this wasn't bound to be a little unpleasant at points, right?

Dabi's smile stretches wider, his thumb working faster. A mewl slips from between your lips and Dabi takes that as encouragement, his fingers resuming their persistent thrusts. It's still uncomfortable, though not quite as bad as when he started, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to bite back your complaints. You let your eyes fall closed instead, trying to focus on his attentions to your hooded nub, on the heat that's pooling in your lower belly. You're inching towards another release, and you let a hand lift to your breast, tweaking at the pebbled flesh of one nipple to help yourself along.

"D-dabi, I'm close," you stammer, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Yeah?" His movements speed up, his voice breathy and excited. "Do it, baby girl. Come for me and then I'm gonna fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You swallow hard, trying not to dwell on those words for now—you can tell you've loosened up more, tolerating the jab of his fingers, but his cock is substantially larger than those, all too intimidating. Thankfully, it's not hard to remain distracted, to focus only on your approaching peak.

Dabi can feel that orgasm rip through you when it hits, your asshole clenching around his fingers as you keen, and it's then that he reaches the limits of his patience. He needs you now, needs the thrill of burying himself in your tight ass and claiming you for his own, of reaching his own release deep inside and then watching his seed spill out afterwards. What a satisfying sight that will be.

He scrambles up from between your legs to catch your lips with his, fumbling his boxers off as his tongue invades your mouth. When he pulls away, his eyes are bright, needy. "Ready for me?" he asks.

You're not, not really, but you can see the fervor in his eyes, hear the urgency in his voice, and you convince yourself that he won't be able to work you open much more with his fingers no matter what. Your agreement doesn't matter anyway—he's already rolling you onto your side and slotting his chest against your back, his straining erection poking at the cleft between your thighs.

"Like this?" you ask, surprised by the choice of position.

"Just like this," he pants in your ear. His teeth nibble at your lobe as he slicks his cock generously with lube. "Want you spooned against me so I can see those cute faces you make, feel you squirming when you take me."

And fuck, when he slips one hand back down to finger your asshole one last time, it doesn't disappoint—your body ripples against him when that invasion catches you off guard, and he can see the way your lips part obscenely as you gasp at his touch. His fingers abandon your tight hole almost as quickly as they'd entered, and then Dabi is aligning himself with your entrance, using the last of his restraint not to slam his hips forward and bury himself inside with a single thrust.

You can feel the spongy head of his glans, and the slick coolness of the ring that adorns his tip, prodding at your rear. One of his arms worms its way under your side, his hand groping distractedly at your breasts as you tense in anticipation.

"Relax, baby girl," he murmurs, but he doesn't wait for you to even try. He's already slipping in, moving slowly until he encounters resistance an inch or so inside, and then pausing.

He has to struggle to keep his composure. Even like this, with not even the full head of his cock in your ass, his balls are tightening, just the thought of what he's doing nearly enough to send him over the brink. He waits until he's sure that won't happen and then starts moving, pushing insistently to work you open around his length with shallow thrusts.

"A-ah, Dabi, g-go easy," you stutter, already squirming. You can feel your body resisting the intrusion, so much larger than his fingers, and it aches slightly every time he tries to breach that inner ring.

"I am, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you." His cheek is nuzzling against yours, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach, but his motions don't change at all even as he murmurs so sweetly. He only slings one arm over your hips, toying lazily at your clit. That attention helps you relax, helps distract you a little, but it's not enough to prepare you for when he drives himself in further, finally surging past that taut band of muscle.

The invasion brings a sharp pain, one that has you crying out. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your body reflexively contorting to try and escape the cause of that hurt, but his arms tighten around you, holding you in place as he continues to work himself deeper with every thrust.

"Dabi, that hurts." Your words are sharper this time as each stroke sends another unpleasant throb through your overstretched hole, but his only response is to plunge the fingers rubbing at your clit into your dripping cunt.

"Shh, you're doing great." He curls his fingers, stroking against that spongy spot deep inside. It makes you writhe, but that does nothing to address the pain between your legs as he fucks you.

"Dabi, don't, that's not helping, I—"

"It's okay, baby girl, you're taking me so well," Dabi coos. You'll adjust, he knows you will—you're usually up for anything, of course you can take this. And fuck, there's no way he can stop now, not when it's even better than he'd imagined—hotter and softer, your pillowy walls enveloping his length every time he plunges into you, the exquisite tightness of your entrance massaging his shaft with each thrust.

"I'm not— I don't— I don't want to do this anymore." You can hear the desperate edge in your voice now. Your heart is racing and there's a cold sweat forming on your skin as tears of pain and confusion start to leak down your cheeks. "Dabi, stop."

"Shh, shh, you're fine. You—fuck—you feel so amazing. 'S never been this good with anyone else, fuck."

"I don't care, I don't want this." You can't understand what's happening, why he's not listening. You twist your head to look at him, pleading with your eyes, but he's barely even focusing on you. His blue eyes are glazed and half-lidded as his lips wander over your shoulders and your neck, all the while murmuring those useless reassurances against your skin. You're thrashing now, your feet scrambling for purchase on the sheets as you try frantically to pull away, but he keeps his tight grip on you, one of his legs hooking around your own to hold you in place. "Dabi, I said stop!"

He shushes you again, rutting into you harshly, and a choked sob escapes you when he bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your backside as you struggle against him. You feel sick to your stomach, and it only worsens when he pulls out until nothing but his tip remains, then drives himself back in with one agonizingly rough thrust.

You keep begging, pleading, wracking your brain and trying every past safe word you can recall, but he only continues to pound into you, his breathing erratic as he pants in your ear. "It's okay, baby. You're taking my cock like such a good girl. You're—ngh—making me feel so good."

The ache between your legs is diminishing slightly as you adjust to his girth, your body entirely unconcerned with whether you want that or not. He's still fingering your sopping cunt too, his palm grinding against your oversensitive clit with each plunge of his long digits, the lewd squelching sound of those attentions mingling with the sharp slap of his hips against your ass as he fucks you.

"You like this?" he asks, but you know he's not really asking. "You like knowing I'm the only one? That I'm making you mine, just mine, just like how it should be?"

"Dabi, stop. Please stop." Your appeals are feeble now, far more for yourself than for him as you continue to utter them between quiet sobs. Dabi's somewhere far away, awash in the tight heat of your ass and the satisfaction of finally staking his claim on you, aware of your supplications but not hearing them, not really.

You slump, still sobbing, and let him take what he wants. His attentions to your cunt have a coil tightening in your gut, but when your climax hits it's perfunctory and mechanical, no real pleasure to be found even as your hips jerk and your holes spasm, a joyless whine passing from your lips.

No real pleasure for you, at least. But fuck, the feel of you squeezing around his cock as you come is what Dabi has been waiting for, your insides massaging his length as though desperate for him to decorate your walls with his cum. It's a gift he's glad to grant—he rocks his hips more urgently, keeping his thrusts shallow now so that he's sure to get it all deep inside.

"Fuck," he groans against your neck. "Gonna make me come, baby girl. That what you want? Want me to fill you up?" You shake your head, but his movements are already growing spurtive and erratic, his grunts louder and throatier, and then you can feel his cock jerking inside you, a hot rush of cum flooding your guts.

Dabi doesn't stop then, either, keeps fucking his seed into you until he's softening, not quite able to work himself in and out of your tight, abused hole any longer, and only then does he finally pull out, a dribble of cum leaking obscenely down your thigh.

You're sniffling, drawing shaky breaths, and you try to pull away the moment his arms relax around you. They only tighten again, his lips planting soft kisses along your temple.

"Shh," he murmurs. The sound of his shushing makes you want to scream. One hand lifts to wipe at the tears on your cheeks. "You were so good, baby girl, there's no need to cry. You were fucking incredible." He means it too, doesn't think he's ever come so hard in his life as he did now, making you his.

Dabi can't wait to do it again.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi #dabi smut #dabi fanfic #fanon dabi #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #bnha fanfic #bnha reader insert #reader insert #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: crying

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1kook · 4 years

Text

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

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montrealmadison · 3 years

Text

drink deeply

or, as they say at samwell, “penitus potes.” shitty gives the toast at jack and bitty’s wedding. for @zimbitsweddingofficial and day two of zimbits wedding week: the wedding itself!

just for fun, a draft version of the beginning of this fic with lardo, ransom, and holster’s “helpful” edits can be found via google doc here. hope y’all enjoy! <3

Good evening, everyone! On behalf of Jack and Eric, thank you all so much for being here tonight, and welcome to what could very well be the most highly anticipated wedding reception of 2019. I mean, this party was planned by the likes of Suzanne Bittle and Alicia Zimmermann. We are in for a treat, folks.

Before we get to all that, I’d also like to extend a particular welcome to those in attendance who are part of the playing, coaching, and/or office staff of the Providence Falconers. Glad you could all make it this evening; I know this past week was a little bit busy for you guys.

[Insert appropriate pause and gesture to the punch bowl, which on closer inspection is actually—oh yeah—the Stanley Cup the Falcs won three days ago. Hold for inevitable applause, general hysteria, and/or hooting/hollering from Tater.]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ve been trying to decide whether I should introduce myself by my first name, which will inevitably get me mocked by my friends until the end of time, or by my nickname, which will definitely scandalize anyone who has not spent a significant amount of time around twenty-year-old guys who play hockey. However, as I look around the room, I’m realizing that most of you probably either raised, spent significant time around, or were once a twenty-year-old guy who played hockey. To the rest of you, I am profoundly sorry.

So, hi! I’m Shitty, and I’m Jack’s best man.

read more below or on ao3

Being someone’s best man, as I’ve realized over the last few months, should really come with a playbook or an instruction manual or something, because it’s a task unlike any other you’ll ever take on. In addition to being a friend, you have to be a confidant, an expert at bachelor-party debauchery (I think my college resume definitely prepared me for this part) and someone who’s not afraid to step in to make last-minute decisions so the grooms don’t have to. You also have to do all of these things without getting fired from your job or stepping on anyone’s toes, up to and including: the couple getting married, the other people in the wedding party, the grooms’ parents, the wedding planner, and most importantly, Moomaw, whose word is law around here.

(Seriously. She made the pie tonight, people. Bow down to her.)

But as much as the role can feel a little bit like you’re being thrown in at the deep end, it also definitely comes with its perks. Tonight, I have both the honor and the challenge of somehow summarizing how much I love Jack and Eric in a speech that is heartfelt and witty yet also brief so that we can get to the aforementioned pie as quickly as possible. If you’re still following me here, that is a tall order—but here goes nothing!

I met Jack Zimmermann on our first day of freshman year at Samwell, during the bright, hot summer of 2011. I was participating in the time-honored tradition of moving into a dorm on the third floor of a building with no elevator and no air conditioning in the middle of August. It builds character, or so the good folks in Samwell administration probably tell themselves. Anyway, athletes got to move in early for preseason, so I was expecting to be one of the only guys on the floor for at least a couple days. I was just carrying the last box into my room when the door next to mine opened and—well, you can probably guess who walked out.

Now, I grew up in Boston, which means I also grew up around hockey culture. I’d heard the news that Jack was coming to Samwell, so I knew who he was when he stepped into the hall in that same vague way that you kind of-sort of recognize celebrities hustling down the street or through the airport with their sunglasses on. And he gave me that same vibe—“I know you know who I am, and I’d very much like not to be bothered about it.”

Here is something that will not shock you if you know us: Jack was the first friend I made in college. Here is something that might shock you if you know us: That definitely doesn’t mean we were friends at first. By his own admission, Jack wasn’t at Samwell to make friends at all. He told me, much later, that he was only planning to go to play hockey, get his life back on track, and keep his head down as much as possible.

So in retrospect, maybe it was an unlucky thing for Jack that he ran into the one person who wasn’t going to let him do that.

Because no matter who you are or where you’re from, freshman year of college breeds a unique kind of terror I’ve never felt anywhere else. There’s a lot of pressure to completely remake yourself, to become the person you maybe never could have been in your hometown. By coming to Samwell, I wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one that Andover had raised. Jack wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one he’d spent twenty years telling himself he had to be. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, we both wanted similar things out of our college experience, and we needed a support system to do that. And so, however begrudging the two of us were about it at first, we started to bond more and more.

It wasn’t always easy. For one thing, my idea of a good time was a lot louder than Jack’s—who enjoyed such scintillating pursuits as “watching golf” and “going to bed at a reasonable hour”, neither of which were quite in my vocabulary at the ripe old age of eighteen. Also, if it’s before six in the morning, he has a hard time remembering to speak English, which used to make for a lot of stilted conversations between the two of us as we walked to early morning practice. (On a completely unrelated note, the first and probably only thing I ever learned in Québécois is how to swear.)

I don’t remember the exact tipping point at which Jack and I really became friends; I think it was more of a quiet acknowledgment that we liked having each other around, that we balanced each other out in ways that neither of us initially knew we needed. What I do know is that, slowly but surely, I started to get glimpses of the Jack that exists off the ice. And so began one of the most extraordinary journeys of my life, because the only thing crazier than knowing Jack Zimmermann is actually knowing Jack.

Here are some things that I’ve learned in the process: He’s on his third pair of neon yellow running shoes, which he buys specifically because the color makes him happy. Before either of us tried Eric’s pies, the only thing that could make him cheat on a meal plan was a sleeve of Double Stuf Oreos. (Don’t ask him how to eat them correctly unless you’re interested in a twenty-minute speech on exactly how they have to be pulled apart.) And he loves Captain America, although it is the opinion of this best man that America’s ass has nothing on his hockey butt. Have you seen that thing? It has Internet fans in at least two different countries.

But I digress.

In our sophomore year we lived next to each other again, by choice instead of by chance, in what I can only describe as the pinnacle of American college living: the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus. We used to pull the comforter off of one of our beds and climb out onto the roof and clear off the snow so we could share the blanket, look up at the stars, and listen to the bass thumping through the wall of the house next door. On nights when other things felt confusing, this one part of my life was clear. There’s something about sitting out under the open sky that just makes it easier to talk to a guy, you know?

Some nights the conversations we had were funny. Some nights they were serious. Some nights we said nothing at all, just sat secure in the knowledge that someone cared enough to exist alongside us for a little while. There was always an unspoken agreement between us on nights like these: I got your back. For me, Jack’s friendship became a rock, a refuge. It’s something that I came to depend on that year and still do to this day.

As for the content of those late-night conversations—well, some things do have to stay between friends. I’m sure Jack will agree, especially because he has so graciously allowed me to get up here and lovingly roast him just a little bit.

So let’s skip ahead again, to yet another August, the start of our junior year, and the arrival on the scene of one Eric Bittle. This kid burst into our ranks like a ray of Southern sunshine and turned pretty much everything upside down in the process. In the first five minutes of being in the Haus, he somehow made us a pie? Folks, I'm not kidding, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. We were a bunch of guys who didn’t know what we were missing until we had it, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a semester after that. In pretty short order we had curtains on the windows and baked goods on the counters, and Samwell Men’s Hockey started to become not only a team but a family.

That was off the ice, at least. On it, things were a little more complicated. As our dear friend and former goalie John Johnson said to me, Jack and Eric hadn’t gone through their character development yet—whatever that means.

Take our third or fourth practice with the full team that year, for example. It had gone… uh. Poorly, would be a word. Later that night I heard some rustling on the roof outside, and God knows I was willing to do just about anything but my homework—so I stuck my head out the window and there was Jack, watching the stars. I asked him if he wanted a buddy, and he said alright, so I slid out and sat down next to him.

That was pretty usual for us at this point. What wasn’t usual was the topic of conversation. The first thing Jack said to me was, “Bittle’s gonna get eaten alive when our schedule starts.” (Remember, people, they’re married now!) The second was, “I want to help.”

Here’s another thing about Jack: Underneath the veneer is a guy who just cares so intensely it’d shock you if you knew nothing else about him. It shocked me a little that day. I think it even shocked him to admit it, to the point where I had to say, “Jack, it’s not a criminal offense to care about other people. Even if it feels like you’re doing it for yourself.”

So he helped. He offered an olive branch, and Bits took him up on it. I’d hear the two of them get up in the morning, hours before the rest of us had to be at Faber, for checking practice. None of the rest of us ever knew exactly what went down, but one thing was for sure—Eric put in a ton of work to overcome some of the fears that had followed him to college. He got better, and Jack relaxed. The two of them really started working as a team, and things started looking up from there.

The day that they told us they were dating was pretty amazing. Eric is so full of light no matter how bleak a situation may look, but that day he was literally almost glowing. And I’ve seen Jack in moments after victory and loss, at his best and at his worst. But I’ve never seen a Jack who was so happy, possessed of such confidence in a decision he’d made, as I saw him that day at brunch. And that’s when I knew this relationship was really special.

From there, many of you know the story. You watched it play out on ESPN and social media and the front pages of every single gossip magazine on the supermarket shelves. But if you’re sitting here with us tonight, you also watched it play out between Jack and Eric themselves. You’ve watched them handle expectations as a united front. You’ve watched their unfailing dedication to each other while they navigate the pressure of being some pretty big firsts. You know that, behind the scenes, these are two incredibly genuine people who bring out the best in each other and are dedicated to doing that every single day.

In the last four years, I’ve watched Eric become self-possessed and confident because he was given the space to do so. In the last six years, I’ve watched Jack grow from a kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to a guy who finally believes that he deserves all the good things the world has given him and then some. If you take nothing else away from this speech, I want you to know this: I’m incredibly proud to call myself a friend to both of them.

Jack, Bits, you’re always gonna be my brothers, my best friends, and two of the finest damn men I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Take care of each other, be good to each other, and never forget where you started—as a team.

So please join me in raising your glasses, everyone, and as they say at Samwell—penitus potes to Jack and Eric!

#shitty knight #jack zimmermann #eric bittle #zimbitswedding #omgcp #check please #this idea jumped into my head and refused to leave #shitty & jack & bitty friendship my beloved #my writing

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Yours Truly (Pt. 2)

Requested By: Some of you!

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

AU: College

Word Count: Part 1 -> 9,786 // Part 2 -> 7,433

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Pining, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Here's the second and final part of the imagine, gang. I hope you enjoy the adventures I wrote for you! Let me know about your fav part(s)!

♡ Happy Reading ♡

Part 1 -- Click Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

5.) Epiphanies

A Week Later

"Yuqi, why the hell did you drag me here? I'd so much rather be writing…" you shove your hands further into the pockets of your hoodie and look at her with a scowl. Rows of people fill the bleachers around you, everyone excited for the football game that's scheduled to start soon. Happy couples sit together all around the stadium, and the sight only works to remind you of how weird things are with Jisoo right now.

"One: it's a Friday night and you need to let loose, and two: I wanted to come, so you have to tag along by default. The rules of friendship are very simple, Y/N," she trails off, tilting her head at you with a smile.

"Well I am gonna go get some food," you imitate her, "Do you want anything?" You stand from the bench and look down at her, noticing how her permed hair sticks up in a few different places. You smooth it out for her as she answers, "Nachos, please."

"Alright, dork. I'm sure the line's kinda long, but come look for me if I'm not back in 20." She pats your butt as you leave, and you just shake your head with a smile.

"--I know! Did you hear about Lee's new girlfriend? I heard she got in a fight with his ex last ni--"

"I'm fucking starving bro."

"Yeah, they totally hooked up at Jackson's party!"

Various conversations work their way to your ears as you walk towards the back of the line, but you attempt to not get too invested in the gossip. As welcoming as your school tends to be, even it has its fair share of scandals and drama. You've never been one to care about rumors though, and you don't plan to start now.

"I heard that Jisoo likes someone."

Funny how plans can change in an instant, don't you think?

You can't find it in yourself to ignore the childish desire to eavesdrop, so you listen in as the line slowly shifts forward with each new customer served, doing your best to be inconspicuous.

"Supposedly she's been into them for a while but they don't know about it. I guess Lisa is planning to get them together tonight or something, I don't know." You recognize the brunette speaking as Seulgi, a dance major that you share a couple classes with. She's talking to Yeri, whom you've seen a few times in passing.

That must be why she was defensive about the kiss; she has feelings for someone else.

"Ooh, that'll be interesting. I can't say that I'm not disappointed, though; now Jisoo's gonna be off the market." The shorter girl frowns, basically reading your mind with her statement. You've never fooled yourself into believing you have a chance with Jisoo, but knowing that she'll be whisked away by some lucky classmate of yours definitely isn't an easy pill to swallow.

You pass the remaining wait time by imagining who that person may be. Jisoo has a lot of friends, but you've never seen her around campus with any particular love interest; she always puts her studies first, deciding that her education is far more important than any potential relationship.

You remain lost in your thoughts until it's your turn to order.

"Hey Y/N, what can I get for you?" The cashier greets, resetting the register as she grins at you.

"Hi Yeji," you smile back, happy to see your old friend again after what feels like forever. Your busy schedules have kept you from hanging out much lately, but seeing her now is something you're grateful for. "I'll take two waters, a medium nacho, and 1 hot dog, please."

"You want everything on it?" She asks in reference to your last request, assuming you still stick with the order you used to go with in your childhood.

"You know it. And make sure to--"

"--spread the toppings out well. I remember, girl." She says with a wink, turning around to get started on your order. The familiar interaction warms your heart, aided by the idea that some things never change. After she packages your things up in a convenient little container, you thank her and pay, walking away with a promise to meet up at the school's café next week.

About halfway back to your seat, something unexpected happens.

"Rosie, we can't buy out the whole place. This is the 4th trip we've taken back here and the game hasn't even started yet!" You freeze as you round the corner, almost dropping your food as Jisoo's low voice sounds off nearby.

"Unnie, I didn't even get to eat much of the other stuff at all! Lisa and Jennie stole it and shared it with everyone else," the artist pouts, rolling her hands into fists at her sides like a toddler.

"Fine. But this is the last trip I'm taking." She warns, rolling her eyes when the Australian attacks her with a flurry of kisses. "Yah! Let's go before we miss something." She says, pushing her off of her with a smile on her face.

Even her voice makes your heart ache, and it reminds you of what her kiss felt like against your lips. It was short, no doubt, and barely there; but the sparks remain, waiting to be reignited anytime she's around. Maybe you're just destined to pine.

----

"There you are! I was literally about to go steal some food from Shuhua because you were taking so long."

"Yeah, yeah," you say, sitting down beside Yuqi with the cardboard box in your hands. "You're lucky I love you enough to pay for this. Now I'll have to survive on 3 grains of rice and ramen for the next few weeks."

"Oh, the struggles of being a broke college student." She says woefully, clutching her hands together in front of her chest to add to the effect.

"Precisely," you agree, scooting closer to offer her some nachos. When she tries to greedily take the whole tray of them, you're quick to stop her.

"Ah, ah, ah," you warn, pulling her wrist back down. "We're sharing, chica." She huffs, but eventually settles down and decides to shove her face full instead of protesting anymore.

Now, with your best friend happily eating, you relax and begin to prepare yourself for the match.

"LET'S GO!" You shout with Yuqi, chanting together as your school's anthem echoes throughout the stadium. The rival team has been behind the entire game, but they closed the gap in the last few minutes and now it's neck and neck. Your band plays loudly to encourage your team, and it seems to be working; they manage to repeatedly hold the others off and keep them from scoring.

It's the start of the fourth quarter now -- the home stretch. With their spirits still high, your team continues to keep victory out of their opponents hands. The black paint underneath their eyes is really streaked now, showing all the effort and sweat that they've put into the game so far. A beautiful sunset just previously gave way to a rapidly darkening evening sky, allowing some stars to peek out now.

"My high school team sucked; this is epic!" Yuqi says, making you laugh. You tear your eyes away from the heated game to say something to her, but all thoughts soon disappear from your mind and you stop mid-sentence.

She notices your sudden silence and looks at you, only realizing what's happening once she follows your line of sight. Jeong is standing against the metal fence that borders the track, mingling with everyone at the bottom of the bleachers. That doesn't bother you, but what you see next certainly does; you spot Jisoo beside him, giggling at something he said as he tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Oh shit," Yuqi breathes out, fully grasping the weight of the situation now. She doesn't even attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he knows how in love you are with Jisoo and yet there he is, flirting away. He's the only other person besides Yuqi who knows of your feelings for the brunette, and you really trusted him with it. Clearly that was a mistake. You blink a few times and set your jaw, quickly looking away as he moves closer to whisper something in her ear over the noise of the crowd.

"I'm gonna head out to the car. Just let me know who wins," you mumble, brushing past her on your way toward the exit. You know there's no way you'd be able to focus on the game anymore after seeing that, so going is your best option. She catches your arm before you can slip away, and says, "Wait, I'm coming with you. And don't even try to tell me no; I can always watch highlights later. I'm not gonna let you be alone right now."

Knowing it's pointless to argue anymore, you nod once and wait for her to gather up her trash and coat. "Let's go," she says, taking your hand after tossing her garbage in the can conveniently placed at the end of your row. She squeezes it a few times for reassurance, and a bittersweet smile works onto your lips at the gesture.

You don't notice how Jisoo's eyes follow you, every fiber of her being yelling at her to go after you. She hates seeing you sad, and although she isn't 100% sure of the reason for it now, all she wants is to cheer you up.

"So, Jisoo. Do you have any plans after the game?" Jeong smirks, quirking a brow suggestively at his own question. Jisoo grimaces, saying, "Yeah, I do. I have to study." She tries to find you in the crowd again, but it seems that you've already slipped away.

"We're throwing a party tonight, you should come." He leans a little closer to her, but she takes a step back. The only reason she's even talking to him right now is because Lisa introduced them, and it would be impolite not to. She turns him down, yet again sneaking a glance around the stadium.

"No wonder Y/N's too chicken to ask you out; you're hard to get, but I don't mind a challenge." Her head whips around at his statement, heart regaining that familiar uptick at the mention of you. "What?" She blinks, not believing her ears. Surely she was just hearing things.

"I said I don't mind a challenge," his words come out slightly slurred, and the effects of the alcohol he's been drinking are beginning to show themselves in all the wrong ways. The more he talks, the less Jisoo can stand him. "Look, Jeong -- I'm not interested. I'm sure there are other girls here that would love to get to know you, but I'm not one of them. Now, if you'll excuse me," she says, turning her body to the side to maneuver around him and get to the stairs. He lets her go without another word, his pride too bruised to come up with a more fitting response than a muttered insult.

She makes quick work of getting to the parking lot, where she spots you approaching Yuqi's car, head hanging a bit. Seeing you upset saddens her, and she's determined to find out what's wrong.

"Y/N! Wait up!" The shout catches your attention, and you slowly spin around. Jisoo begins to jog out to you, and a scoff slips past your lips (though you don't put much effort into stopping it). You're hurt, and half of the reason for your pain is staring right back at you like nothing happened.

"What do you want, Jisoo?" You sigh, not looking forward to where this conversation will most certainly go.

"I want to talk, Y/N." She's in front of you now, scanning her eyes between yours to gauge your reaction.

"What is there to say? Just go back to talking to Jeong; you looked like you were enjoying yourself." She can hear the jealousy laced in your tone, and things finally -- finally -- begin to click for her.

"Is that what this is about?" She asks in reference to your sadness. The question isn't accusatory at all; she's genuinely trying to piece things together.

A disbelieving laugh leaves you at that. How is she still so oblivious? "Yes, Jisoo, it is. I just had to witness someone who I thought was my friend flirt with my crush. So yeah, that's what this is about." Sensing that she doesn't know what to say, you decide to conclude things for her. This is already pitiful enough, and you'd rather spare the both of you from having the "it's not you, it's me" talk.

"Look, I get it. You don't like me back, and you were only trying to be friendly by inviting me to the rehearsal that night. Just please, for the both of us, forget it even happened. Forget all of this. It was a mistake, and I won't do it again."

Jisoo hates that you're jumping to conclusions without even knowing her true feelings; you automatically think that she couldn't possibly feel the same, and you use her moment of silence as a form of evidence to prove that. The complete opposite is true, though you'd never give her enough time to straighten out her jumbled thoughts and tell you that.

She finds her voice when you turn away, and she reaches out to touch your hand. "Stop, you've got it all wrong." Your eyes glance down to your intertwined hands, but you wiggle out of her grip with a heavy sigh. Over your shoulder, you shakily say, "You don't have to pretend for me, Jisoo. I'll be alright. If he makes you happy, then so be it."

With that, you get in Yuqi's car and tell her to drive away, leaving Jisoo to deal with the sinking feeling in her chest that worsens as the car's tail lights grow dimmer and dimmer in the distance. You're gone, and she really has no idea how to come back from this.

6.) Broken Hearted

The next few weeks were hell. You avoided Jisoo as much as possible, too embarrassed to face her after what happened and too weak to be close to her again. You'd surely fall even harder if you allowed yourself to grow any closer, so you didn't take the risk. How could you? Falling alone isn't an enjoyable experience, and you've been teetering on the edge of no return ever since that afternoon at the daycare.

It was hard enough to escape her hold -- her face was everywhere, plastered on ads and bulletin boards all throughout campus, on reminders and sign ups for student council. You used your sick days in order to hide away in your dorm and block out the world, only being comforted by Ryujin when she wasn't busy with her own life or Yuqi when she could spare a few hours. They always made sure to care for you as much as they could, knowing first hand how tough heartbreak can be -- especially with the added stress of schoolwork.

One person you thought about often was Jeong. Every time he'd cross your mind, dirtying up your brainwaves with the mere notion of himself, you'd grimace. He didn't deserve the attention, and yet you couldn't help but question why he did that to you. He hadn't reached out since that night, likely due to Yuqi giving him a piece of her mind after the game. He made it clear that he wasn't sorry, and that if given the chance, he'd play his cards even better and hopefully score a date with Jisoo.

Maybe that was the worst part of it all. Hearing that it hadn't just been a stupid thing he did because he was drunk; he realized the weight of his actions, and he'd do it again, over and over, without caring about how you fit into the equation. That football game was simply a turning point, hidden in plain sight as an unassuming night for you to hang out with Yuqi. But you learned more then than you had ever intended to; Jeong's selfish, and he probably never even cared for you in the first place. The idea of that makes you feel dirty -- like you wasted so much of your time with such a horrible person, sticking up for him and defending his name when he wasn't around when he never even deserved that in the first place. You wish you would've known who he really was back then; you would've stayed away.

Unbeknownst to you, Jisoo was struggling much like you -- minus the whole "betrayed by a best friend" situation. Every time that she showed up in class, she hoped with every piece of herself that you'd walk through the door and grace the room with your presence. You seldom ever did, though -- but when you ran out of free days of absence and were forced to attend class in order to keep your grades up, you never even uttered a word to her. She'd make it a point to ask questions in class, hoping that hearing her voice would bring something out of you, as yours did to her. She longed to talk to you again, if only for a minute; but your resolve remained strong, and her determination grew weaker as the days went by.

Being the person she is, though, she knew giving up wasn't an option. After a few weeks of that cycle, greeting stands were placed at the front doors of each complex on campus, manned by different members of the council. She came up with a story for the administration on the fly, using her people skills to convince them that it would be good for student morale and getting more people to join clubs. It was a great effort, but she underestimated your avoidance skills; you thwarted her plans again, slipping right through her strategically linked fingers.

Eventually, she lost hope. She exhausted every option she knew to try, and the girls ran out of new ones as well. Seeing their unnie so upset saddened them, and they did all they could to cheer her up in any and every way they knew how.

7.) Premiere Night

"Y/N, get up. You're gonna shower and get dressed if I have to force you to do it myself." Yuqi commands, blasting into your room and flipping on the overhead light that shines far too bright for your liking.

"Mmm," you groan in protest, not even bothering to roll over.

"I mean it; don't test me, you know I'm true to my word."

"Why, Yuqi?"

"Because we're going to the performance tonight. The big show that everyone has been going on about is premiering, and you're coming with me to see it."

"I can't do that." You say, her words sobering you up from your sleepy stupor.

"I know who the lead is," she informs, already knowing about your reasons for being hesitant, "and that's precisely why we're going. You can't keep living like this, so either go get your girl, or agree to be friends with her and work past what you're dealing with."

"You sound like a mom at the end of an 80s movie."

"80s movie moms are valid, so I'll take that as a compliment. Now go!" She shouts, shoving you off the bed. You tumble to the floor in a heap of blankets and pillows, still managing to hit your funny bone as you let out a pained groan.

"Remind me to slap her later, Ryujin."

"Will do." She salutes, reaching a hand down to help you up. With one last glare at an annoyingly bubbly Yuqi, you head to the bathroom to shower.

----

"How do I look?" You ask, looking yourself up and down in the skinny mirror attached to the wall.

"Is it gay if I say I'd ask you out?" Yuqi asks with a smile, fanning herself animatedly when you strike a pose.

"Very much so, yes."

"Well, hand me the rainbow suspenders, then."

You push her over with a laugh -- the first real one you've shared in a while -- and wrap her in a hug.

"Thank you, for real. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you." You say against her shoulder, pulling back to look at your roommate and add, "Either of you." The three of you settle in for a group hug and tell a few more jokes before Yuqi finally drags you out of the dorm.

----

"How does it feel to be back in society?" Yuqi whispers, leaning in close to you to read the seat numbers printed on your tickets.

"As lame as ever." You add, amusingly unenthused.

"You're never gonna convince Jisoo to date your dumbass with that attitude." She retorts, feeling a little guilty when she sees your expression change upon hearing her name. You're afraid to see where the two of you will stand at the end of the night, so saying it's still a sore subject is the understatement of the year.

"I'm messing with you, dude. If she doesn't want to be with you, then it's her loss; but I highly doubt that's the case. I've heard she misses you a lot." For once, Yuqi's words are halfway encouraging to hear, and you let out a light smile.

"Well I'm prepared to worry about that whole situation later. For now, let's find our seats and enjoy the show." Your best friend quickly agrees, and the two of you squeeze through the crowds in the aisles to get to your row.

----

"Jisoo, I promise you'll do well. You've been practicing for months; you've got this," Soo-hyun says, rubbing his co-lead's back in reassuring circles. The certainty in his deep voice gives Jisoo some semblance of security, and she stands to look at him with one final, nervous sigh. Stage fright has never been this big of an issue for her, but the size of the crowd and the idea that you might be out there scare the hell out of her. She wants you to be there with all of her heart, but she doesn't know if she'll be able to handle watching you walk away again. The past few weeks have been torture, and she misses your presence and witty remarks more than she ever thought possible.

"Thank you, Soo-hyun. I'll meet you out there in a couple minutes, just let me collect myself."

He nods and says, "Take your time. I'll let Mrs. Choi know," before leaving and shutting the door behind himself. Now alone again, Jisoo digs through her personal bag that lays neatly on the small futon of the dressing room. When her fingers come in contact with that familiar material she's spent hours staring at, she bites the inside of her cheek and unfolds it for the millionth time. Multiple poems and blurbs litter the page, accompanied by cute doodles and cartoons here and there that give it a personal feel. She's spent the time away from you methodically working through the different writings, restraining herself from reading all of them in one setting so that she can have new content from time to time.

She's down to the last one, now, and a surprising sort of realization hits her when she reads it. It instills within her a sense of determination -- determination to get you back and set things right, one way or another. She makes a plan to find you after the performance.

-- After The Performance --

It was even more spectacular than you ever imagined it could be. The school spared no expense in getting the best props, employing the most skilled technicians on hand, and recruiting the best artists that the school had to paint the backdrops. Everyone behind the scenes worked tirelessly to produce the best show possible, and their efforts really paid off.

And, of course, you can't forget the actors.

The entire cast was incredible, their talent matching some of the world's most sought-after stars. Every part was played to perfection; even the smaller, supporting roles were acted with passion, really bringing the piece together as a whole. The production left you wanting more, too inspired and awestruck by the amazing performances to be content with just seeing it once. So, after numerous calls for an encore, the cast returned to run through a few of their key scenes.

---

As the cast takes their final bow, large cannons placed on either side of the stage shoot out bursts of colorful confetti, and you watch it flutter down around them. Some try to catch a piece or two to add to their scrapbooks, wanting to have a trinket from their college years, while others just hug each other and twirl around with content smiles on their faces. The crowd continues its loud cheering, and eventually you find the courage to sneak a glance at Jisoo.

To your surprise, she's looking right back.

Her eyes hold a mixed softness; she's proud of herself and glad that you came to support her on such a big night, but part of her wants to escape the busyness of it all and tell you everything she's been feeling. She'd be content with looking at you forever, she realizes, as she studies you. You're the true star in her eyes, always shining so bright and making everyone feel at home whenever they're around you. She hopes you know how special you are.

Mrs. Choi approaches the cast from stage right, gathering their attention to congratulate them and commend them for their performances. Jisoo reluctantly looks away from you, unsure if it's the last time she'll be seeing you tonight. The thought upsets her, but there isn't much she can do about it right now; so, she gives her attention to her professor and flashes that smile that makes everyone weak in the knees.

You knew it was just a matter of time before she'd be pulled away and immersed in some conversation about the show, but the selfish side of you never wanted her to look away. No matter how confusing things may be because of all of your unresolved issues, she still looks at you like she always had before -- her gaze is kind, albeit bittersweet, but it's full of care. Seeing her like that makes you feel like even more of an asshole than you already do -- maybe you should have just listened to her at the game. Running away was an immature choice, rooted entirely in your own sadness in that moment as you deprived yourself of any explanation she could've offered, though you can't judge yourself too harshly. The situation is complicated, and you still don't know whether to hate yourself for running or go easy on yourself in light of what happened.

When Yuqi sees you stand up and shuffle towards the end of your row, she sends you a warning look.

"Dude, I'm not gonna run away. I'm literally just gonna step outside for some fresh air, I promise." She visibly relaxes, no longer having to prepare herself to wrangle you back into the seat.

"Fine. But if you aren't back in 15 minutes I'm coming to track you down. You really need to talk to her."

You sigh, nodding in agreement. "I know, trust me. Just let me get my thoughts together first." She sends you off to do just that, but not until the two of you complete the special handshake you made up all those months ago.

---

Brisk air rushes over your skin in waves the moment you exit the side door of the building, automatically sending goosebumps to raise in its wake. It feels nice, though; it grounds you, and works to cool off your heated skin. The atmosphere inside was thick with the tension you've been feeling ever since what happened that night at the game, and its effects were only heightened by the raw performances of the evening. Passion and longing were the driving factors of the play, ironically, and many of the scenes drew eerie parallels to your current situation. So, it's no wonder that you're thankful to step away from it all for a bit.

You greet a few stray audience members that're puttering around outside as well, opting to walk down a little further away from them and lean against the building. The wall's brick material feels rough against your back, lightly scratching it whenever you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You don't mind it, though; it's oddly nostalgic, somehow.

When you hear the door open again, you think nothing of it. The metal hinges latch just the same as they had for you, so there's really no reason for you to even look up. However, that all changes when you feel someone's eyes on you.

Unprepared is leaps and bounds away from being a fitting statement to describe how you feel in that moment; Jisoo stands merely 10 feet away from you at most, right next to the stage door that she just came out of. Her hands fiddle with the drawstrings of her costume, seemingly always needing to be occupied when she's nervous or unsure of herself; it's a habit you've picked up on after seeing it so many times.

The longer you look at her, the more you want to look away; she's so beautiful it hurts, and the silence is eating away at you. You can't blame her, though; neither of you know what to say or do, and the only thing you seem capable of is staring at each other. When you break the intense eye contact you were sharing to turn away, only intending to take a minute to collect yourself, Jisoo is suddenly set in motion.

She's afraid you'll leave again, and she's prepared to fight even harder for you this time.

I love you as the stars love the night sky

A fateful, cyclic romance

A game of eager greetings and reluctant goodbyes

Those words -- ones that you remember penning one day in class while completely entranced by Jisoo -- roll from her lips effortlessly, as if she had spent time committing them to memory. She had, in fact; whenever days passed without her even catching a glimpse of you, she always found herself unfolding that note again, tracing a finger over the curve of your unique letters as she reread the poem. It always brought her comfort to think that you were in just as deep as her, and a similar sense of hope blossoms in her chest now when she spots an unbelieving smile tug at the corner of your lips as you slowly turn to face her again.

You're still into her, and she's falling even deeper at the realization. Maybe she didn't lose you after all.

She takes calculated steps towards you and breathes a sigh of relief when you stay put, not showing any signs of running. The wheels in your head are going into overdrive now, turning and churning as you process her little recital, and she prays with all of her heart that you won't be upset once you put two and two together.

"How did you…"

"You dropped it one day, and I picked it up. I meant to give it back to you, but I guess I just never got around to it." She feels a little guilty for keeping it as long as she has, but it's served as a way of keeping you close during your time apart. Those bits and pieces of you, scattered around on that page, encapsulated by the annotations and doodles you so kindly left behind, have stayed in her heart. Ever since she discovered it all that time ago, it's never been very far from her; she cherishes it more than you'll ever know.

"You didn't show it to anyone, right?" Your voice is laced with worry, lowered a bit to keep others from overhearing.

"No, no! Of course not. I just… kept it for myself. You're really talented; I couldn't stop reading your stuff."

"Thank, I guess?" You awkwardly chuckle, still a bit rusty on how to interact with her after everything. Plus, to be fair, having your crush read one of the love letters you wrote about her is a bit unheard of. Newfound territory, you think to yourself.

"How long?" You ask after a minute of silence, only realizing how loaded your question is after it slips past your lips, turning into a puff of steam in the chilly atmosphere. "How long have you… felt that way about me?" You quickly add, "Assuming that you feel what the poem says, of course."

An amused smile tweaks her lips at how cute you are. "I do, Y/N. I always have; ever since that afternoon at the daycare."

"Really?" The question is quiet, full of childlike disbelief.

"Really. It was always you." She says it freely now: unafraid.

The sentiment is sweet, but memories of the football game come flooding back and you're reminded that as much as you want to skip this next part, you still have things to discuss.

"What about Jeong?"

"What about him?"

"Did you ever like him?"

"No. The girls thought so, but it was just a misunderstanding. That's why Lisa introduced us at the game; she thought I had a crush on him, but I told her that you were always the one I was looking at. I told all of the girls that, after that night."

Her confession renders you speechless -- only capable of listening and nodding every now and then. She takes advantage of your silence to finally explain herself and tell you everything she's been dying to.

"I didn't know you felt the same until our talk in the parking lot. I mean, I was hopeful after some of the moments we had, but I didn't know for sure until then. I wanted to beg you to stay and hear me out, but you left before I had the chance."

You blink a few times as the reality of her words begin to sink in. "I had no idea…"

"Yeah, well…" she trails off, unsure of what to say next. She's forgiven you for walking away, knowing you were just hurt, but the whole situation still left a bad taste in her mouth. So much pain could've been avoided for the both of you if you had just listened.

"How did they take it?"

"They yelled at me for waiting so long to tell them, but then they tried to help me get you back. Remember those student council booths?" She leans in a little closer to ask that last line, her lips pulling to the side in that iconic smirk of hers.

You audibly gasp and point at her animatedly. "I knew that was you!"

"Mhm, pulled some fancy-sounding excuse out of my ass to convince the board, and boom; 20 brand new tables set up the next day. I still can't believe you managed to slip past them, though. I mean, c'mon, have you seen how talkative those kids can be?"

"Trust me, it wasn't easy," you laugh with her. "I had to sneak to the back entrances like a drug dealer."

"I can totally see that."

"I'm dedicated, what can I say?" The stupid hair flip you do makes her laugh even harder, clutching her stomach as those beautiful sounds slip past her lips.

As your shared laughter eventually turns into soft chuckles, she smiles at you, saying, "I really missed this. I missed you, so so much."

"I've been a wreck without you, Jisoo. It's honestly embarrassing."

She looks at you with something new shining in her eyes, and she carefully contemplates what she's about to admit. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"I rarely cry, Y/N, but I did over you. So you have no reason to be embarrassed. It seems like both of us were pretty bad off." She looks down after saying that, scuffing her foot against the concrete of the sidewalk. Being vulnerable isn't usually easy for her, and she never really lets people see that side of her -- not even the girls. She feels like she has to stay strong for them to keep things running smoothly, but she fails to realize how important her own feelings are. You're different, though; she feels like her entire collection of secrets would be safe with you, and you make her feel secure enough to be open like that.

When she feels you step closer and hook two fingers underneath her chin, her eyes dart up to yours and her heart speeds up. Your other arm hesitantly wraps around her waist, giving her plenty of time to step away and deny you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she couldn't possibly want someone like you that you're genuinely surprised when she steps further into your embrace, pulling your arm tighter around herself.

Her right arm comes to rest loosely on your shoulder as her other hand caresses your forearm, rubbing various patterns against your smooth skin. "I tried so hard to get you to pick up on my flirting," she starts, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck as she holds you close. "Every touch," she runs a finger down your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. "Every look," she moves her hand from your neck to your cheek, cupping it sweetly as she gazes into your eyes. She strokes your skin with the pad of her thumb, smiling beautifully when she feels you nuzzle into her hold even more.

"And that kiss…" she says, sounding breathless at the mere thought of it. "I wanted it to last forever."

"Why didn't you tell me that, then?" You ask, not even a trace of anger in your tone. You're determined to let go of all the hurt and fear that your misunderstandings have caused, opting instead to finally get the answers you've wanted for so long. "After I came back from putting Aera to bed you were just… different. And then when you said it was just a part of the script--"

"I know. I was afraid that if I let myself have you like that -- if I let you in all the way -- there'd be no going back." When she sees the confusion building in your eyes, she continues on. "I don't usually let myself get distracted; I can't afford it. You know how seriously I take my studies." You nod, recalling the numerous times you've found her in the library until it closed, studying hard for the exams everyone knew she'd ace. "But you wiggled your way past every line of defense I ever put up. You became my favorite distraction." A dopey grin tugs at your lips at receiving that title, and you subconsciously hold your head a little higher.

"But I wasn't prepared for that. You make me feel things that I've never felt before, and I really didn't think I could afford to let myself have you. Not fully, anyway. I could deal with a crush; I told myself I could keep you close enough that I wouldn't miss you, but far enough that I could keep myself protected."

"What changed?" You ask, smoothing your hands over the small of her back, feeling the heat radiate from her skin. They've worked their way under the hem of her shirt during your conversation, subconsciously seeking to share her warmth, and Jisoo has been acutely aware of it the entire time.

"When I saw you walk away like that I didn't know what to do with myself. I've had people leave before, so it's not a new thing; but I never missed them like I've missed you."

A bittersweet, melancholic look settles on your face at that; she deserves every good thing that the world has to offer, so knowing that you played a part in her sadness -- whether it be direct or indirect -- disheartens you a bit.

"But you're here now, and that's all that matters." She says, leaning her forehead against yours.

"And I'm not going anywhere," you affirm, holding her even closer than before. She brushes her nose against yours with a quiet sigh, relieved to be in your arms, caught safely in your warm embrace. If falling feels like this, she's more than okay with it.

"Can I?" You ask, glancing down to the heart shaped pillows you've dreamt of having against yours again.

She nods, uttering a soft, "Please", as she tilts her head to the side in expectancy. You close the remaining distance, bending your knees slightly to tighten your hold on her waist and pull her flush up against yourself. Both of her arms wrap around your neck now, occasionally coming down to tilt your head and allow her better access, or run her fingers through your hair. It's sensual and meaningful, but an air of urgency hangs in the air, thickening it the longer her lips are on you. Both of you are making up for lost time, so it's no wonder you're so eager.

She takes your bottom lip between her teeth as she backs you up, pressing you against the brick wall that you had migrated a few steps away from during your conversation. If she were kissing anyone else, perhaps she'd care about the strangers staring, or what they might say; but as she stands here, feeling your hands explore her body in the ways that she's dreamed of and your lips kiss her senseless, that's the furthest thought from her mind. Her hands grab at the collar of your shirt, balling the material up in her palms as she pushes her lips against yours from a new angle.

When you eventually pull back for air, you can't help but say the phrase that's been sitting on your mind for weeks. "I love you."

Her heart speeds up to match yours, both of them racing as you look at each other with giant smiles on your faces. "I love you, too. If you hadn't already guessed that," she chuckles, leaning up to kiss you again. This one's more innocent, though -- full of giddiness as you replay each other's declaration in your minds.

"Y/N L/N IF YOU AREN'T OUT HERE--"

Yuqi bellows loudly, blasting through the side door and out into the chilly night air. The metal smacks against the wall from the force she exerted, and you physically cringe at the sound. Jisoo does the same, quickly pulling away to find out what's going on.

When Yuqi's line of sight settles on the two of you, her eyebrows raise and a smirk lands on her lips. "Well, well, well. Looks like my work here is done," she says, cocking her head to the side self-assuredly when she sees how swollen both of your lips are and how mussed your clothing is. You send her a look that she registers as "Get lost", and she retreats back into the performance hall with her hands raised in surrender.

"Idiot," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head as you watch the door close behind her, its poor hinges still recovering from her assault. Jisoo's giggle makes you turn back to her, finding a breathtaking smile forming on her lips. "You're so cute," she coos, poking your cheek, "especially when you blush like that."

You fight the bashfulness that attempts to take over, managing to cock a brow at her and say, "Hey, watch it -- I might not be so kind in my next poem if you don't stop teasing me."

"Aww, don't be like that, baby."

She tenses up after realizing she let that pet name slip out at the end, but your smile only widens.

"Say that again."

"Baby," she drawls in her signature sultry tone, stepping closer to you again.

"Mmm, I could get used to that." You hum against her lips, pressing yours to them at the end of your statement.

"Good, because there's more where that came from."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," she settles into your arms again, looking into your eyes with so much love you nearly swoon. "This is only the beginning for us."

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bangtancentricsblog · 3 years

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》 Unbeknownst to Jungkook, there is a rise in popularity for a particular human holiday, one of which leaves him blindsided and scrambling to find the absolute perfect gift for his one and only. They say food is the quickest way to a man’s heart but no one ever said it didn't work on women.

❒ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❒ genre: fluff, established relationship, a dash of angst, and a pinch of smut

❒ alternative universe: fantasy, college/university, werewolf, witch,

❒ rating: 18+

❒ word count: 12.4 k+

warnings/disclosures: werewolf Jungkook, witch MC, kinda tsundere mc, cat shifters Yoongi and Yoonji, Fairy Jimin, Siren Taehyung, MC is on the bigger side!, Merman Seokjin, Elf Hoseok, Vampire Namjoon, friendly fondling from yoonji, heteroflexible/bicurious yoonji, boob talk, mc is not good at cooking, misunderstanding on jungkook’s part, baking mishaps, frazzled jungkook, not so helpful/helpful yoongi, half-hearted frenemies Jungkook and Yoonji, Jungkook cries a little, yoonji jumping to conclusion, sense8 references, harry potter references, killing eve reference, way too many allusions to sex, jungkook isn't a good at baking, always reliable Seokjinnie, chubby POC Bunny shifter OC, whiney JK and MC, ‘rich’ jungkook, not edited i tried to i really did, taste testers Jimin and Taehyung, SMUT is at the end, bad smut at the end, food play (mostly them getting turned on by feeding each other), fingering (ew why do we call it that? Finger blast sounds better lmao), cock warming-ish, tiny hints of a size kink, grinding, soft fuck, soft spanking, sappy endings

❀ this is part of the bangtan pastries valentine collab hosted by the lovely @suhdays, who also made my lovely banner 💖 make sure to check out the other fics as well, they’re amazing as are the other authors and please excuse any incoherent inconsistencies or misspelling as this fic was written over a many days and long hours ❀

main ml • AO3

His nose is cold, a weird thing to think about when a werewolf's body temperature literally runs higher than every other species. There’s a chill racing up his spine as he shivers reaching a lazy arm across the bed in search of your warmth only to come up empty. Jungkook finally cracks an eye open, pushing himself into a sitting position to see if you really are missing or you’ve only scooted to the very edge of the bed to escape his scalding body temperature. Though to his displeasure you are in fact missing, he’s running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath before scrunching his feature. His nose is still cold, so he can't smell much, can only feel the slight sting of the frigid air as he breathes it in.

He hates the winter, all he can ever smell is the damp ground and the cold of the air. Funnily enough most werewolves loved winter since it gave them a break from their heightened senses, not Jungkook though, he couldn't stand not being able to smell you on his bed, in your house, on him. Your shared bedroom is extra chilly this morning raising goosebumps along his exposed skin, he’s tired, not having gotten enough sleep from the long night of studying he’d done the night before.

You’re a naturally early riser so he knows why you’re up, Jungkook however isn't exactly a morning person, never has been, especially on the weekend when neither of you have anywhere to be. He’s groggy as he pads down the hallway, a yawn stretching his mouth wide, another shiver wracking his body the closer he gets to the back of the house, it’s always been chillier there, it’s downright brutal in the winter time.

He isn't surprised when he finally comes to stand in the doorframe of the sunroom watching your figure drop what he’s pretty sure is mugwort in the bubbling cauldron. There’s this sense of domesticity watching you work, a luxury he couldn't afford as the two of you grew up. He can almost vividly remember the ugly way you’d scowl at him when he’d plop down in front of you brandishing scraped up hands or knees. A soft almost unkind reminder that he should be more careful and that next time he came in you wouldn't treat his wounds. He remembers thinking you didn't like him, maybe even hated him, so after a while (more like into his teenage years) he just stopped showing up. So you would imagine his surprise when you’d finally cornered him after his abrupt disappearance. His lips tug upward at the memory of you clumsily confessing your feelings to him before running off, never giving him a chance to properly convey his own feelings.

It’s weird for Jungkook to think that he’d almost let you slip through his fingers, his dumb teenage werewolf hormones had told him to just let you be. That you weren’t even one of his kind, so you wouldn't be worth it. He’d been so close to letting you get away, so close to letting you leave the pack when he’d taken his precious time working through his natural instincts (at least the ones he had then). How he’d almost brushed off your confession because there was no way cold, stoic you liked him. Impossible he’d thought, and then a week after he’d overheard your parents asking permission for you to attend a school away from pack lands. Away from the pack, away from your family, and away from him. The very thought twisted his stomach unpleasantly, making him nauseous as he thought of everyday life without you.

It was then that he knew he couldn’t let that happen, something about you leaving didn't sit well in his being. He couldn’t describe it then, after all a sixteen year old only understood the bare minimum of love and life and he knew even less than that. Somewhere in his mind rushing to your house at that moment had made sense, more sense than anything had in the short amount of time he’d had to process the information. He probably should’ve knocked before rushing into your house, maybe also knocked instead of flinging your room door open the way he had. The grin he wears grows wider as he recalls what he’d seen all those years ago. The rest is history, at least the embarrassing parts that he refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t regret the way your relationship had started, especially not after almost seven years of dating. Hell, he considers himself lucky that you even stuck around this long because truth be told Jungkook could be a handful, like now for example.

“Is that my sweater?” he asks, watching amusedly as you jump nearly spilling an entire vial of pixie dust. Your hand has gone to your chest to calm your racing heart as it beats harshly against your ribs, scowling as you think of how you hated that he was so light on his feet.

“I couldn't find an apron, and it’s cold.” you say rubbing at your nose with sweater pawed hands before sprinkling some of the pixie dust into the cauldron.

“Y’know I don't like when you brew in my clothes, the smell sticks for too long.” he sniffs, still only feeling the cold sting of the air.

“I know.” you mutter not once glancing in his direction, only reaching out to take a jar of snake venom from the array of ingredients lining the counter space beside you.

“What are you making anyways and on a Saturday?”

“Vitality potion, for extra credit.” he hums to himself content with just watching you finish up your work which really doesn't take long. You add a few drops of mint sighing contentedly while you put out the fire with a simple incantation. Jungkook watches as you rub at your eyes and easily close the distance between you, your arms wrap around his waist as you nuzzle into his chest relishing in his warmth. A muffled ‘m’tired’ slipping past your lips and tickling his chest where they press to his skin. He hums his reply, hands slipping down your sides pulling soft sighs from you as he slips them under the hem of your hoodie to press chilled hands to your warm hips.

You squeal, trying in vain to wriggle away from him as he muffles his laugh in your neck. He’s quick to pull your body close, before lifting you over his shoulder, hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs to keep you steady. Your giggles are almost manic as you laugh all the way to the bedroom where he proceeds to take full advantage of this early Saturday morning.

Monday morning comes way too soon, and you’re once again seated at a table of your favorite on campus cafe. Though much like always Jungkook is being clingy, scenting your neck while you kill some time before your first class. The frappe you ordered sits untouched, the slush goodness melting into a mess of almost coffee flavored water. It’s a waste of money if you don't drink it now, although you’re also sure Jungkook will polish it off should you leave it be.

“Please stop making people uncomfortable.” you sigh, pressing a palm to his face to push him away before he can bury it back in your neck.

“I’m not making people uncomfortable.” he says with a confused furrow of his brow as he casts a glance around the cafe to catch these so called uncomfortable people. He doesn't see anyone other than a couple of baristas who refuse to make eye contact even with the way his gaze is burning holes into the side of their heads. You don't look the slightest bit amused as you narrow your eyes at him, waiting a beat then two only to realize he really doesn't know. Your heart skips a beat, ‘stupid heart’ you think as it continues to do so the longer he remains oblivious. It’s moments like this that make you think that being with Jungkook is like having a big dumb dog, except you absolutely adore the shit out of him, amongst other things.

He quirks his head the slightest as your brows pinch further together the longer you stare at him, further reminding you of his canine counterpart. There’s this flutter in your tummy, the butterflies that have long since taken residence awaken fluttering about and fanning a flame that is slowly growing, traveling to your face and warming your cheeks. Stupid heart, stupid butterlies, stupid Jungkook and his big stupid beautiful eyes, you curse mentally finally ripping your gaze away from his. It’s all a little too much, so your best course of action is going to class early, you decide standing and making to leave only for his grip on your hand to tighten, one that you had forgotten about.

“Gimme a kiss.” he says around a smirk, it heats your cheeks further as you work to calm the rapid beat of your stupid heart as it bangs against your ribs. You’re almost expecting for your chest to burst open or your heart to spontaneously combust. Luckily neither of those happen as Jungkook leans in close pressing a soft peck to your lips before moving to deepen it. He’s gentle in coaxing your lips apart, much better than your first kiss, taking his time tasting you as he always does...at first. He’s squeezing one of your tight clad thighs in his big hands, a sigh almost slipping past your lips as the warmth of his palm sinks through the material. You pull away abruptly, eyelids fluttering before blinking a few times to clear the sudden haze that clouds your vision. Next to you Jungkook is whining trying his hardest to pull you back in for another kiss, that sly dog.

“I’ll see you later.” you say pressing one last barely there kiss to the corner of his mouth, almost tripping over the threshold on your way out. His gaze follows your figure until you turn the corner disappearing from his sight. He sighs heavily, it’s laced with undertones of fatigue as he reaches for your unfinished frappe.

“You guys are gross.” Yoongi breathes, taking a seat opposite Jungkook. Jimin takes your seat, as Taehyung and Hoseok follow. Hoseok takes the empty seat beside Yoongi while Taehyung pulls up a chair from a neighboring table.

“You’re just jealous my girlfriend is hotter than yours.”

“Sure kid, you go ahead and believe that.” he almost sneers.

“Why are you here so early?” Jimin asks steering the conversation away from girlfriends for now. He’s yawning suddenly, reminded of how little sleep he’s gotten today, school was the worst.

“I came with ____, can’t have her coming all alone y’know.”

“Isn't your first class at the same time as her last?” Yoongi chimes in before asking Taehyung to get him an Americano as the younger man walks over to the counter.

“Yeah, and what?” he sniffs a little defensively.

“It was just a question.” Yoongi deadpans.

“Don’t you and your satan spawn of a twin share all your classes with ____?”

“No, we have classes together Tuesdays through thursdays.” he supplies easily, leaning back in the chair.

“Why not all week?” Hoseok asks in a tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Monday and Fridays are the hardest days to get out of bed, duh.” he says almost matter of factly and they have to agree with Yoongi on this one. Monday is truly the worst day of the week, though it's now that Jungkook notices the absence of the previously mentioned satan’s spawn. He almost bristles, thinking that Yoonji might be out there somewhere harassing his sweet little girlfriend.

You scream, startled by the sudden weight that presses itself to you, a giggle like purr filling your ears before you relax. Yoonji’s hair brushes your cheeks softly, her arms wrapping around your frame and you squeak at the feel of her hand cupping your chest through the hoodie you wear. It’s a usual occurrence, though no less embarrassing as she continues to snuggle closer to you.

“Did your boobs get bigger?” she asks nose nudging against the soft pudge of your cheek, you know she’s scenting you, her way of messing with Jungkook later when she can’t physically be there.

“No, please stop.” you sigh, feeling a gentle squeeze followed by a soft breathy moan, heat erupting across your cheeks in embarrassment. She snickers giving your ample chest one last squeeze before finally moving away. She falls in step with you, walking along the path, snow crunching underfoot before moving to speak again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly do you like about Jungkook? I mean sure he’s great, not really, and all but really what is it? Is it his dick game because other than you I don't really think he’s ever been with anyone else.” She asks stuffing her hands in her coat pockets to stave off the slight chill that has zapped all the warmth from her fingers. There’s a brief pause in her thoughts as she wonders if Jungkook uses your impressive rack as the natural hand warmers they are, the lucky bastard she thinks with a scowl.

“I don't know, all of him.”

“That’s too vague an answer, like if I were to ask him what do you think he’d say he likes about you?”

“That I’m just so cute.” you answer almost immediately hands cupping your cheeks as if to further prove that you are in fact cute. The scrunch to her nose is adorable, squishing her already delicate features, as you smile softly at her and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Not that cute, but to each their own I guess. I’ll see you later yeah?” she asks, turning on her heel to walk in the direction you had just come from.

“I’ll be there.” You call after her watching as she raises a single hand to show you she’d heard you.

Yoonji is sliding onto Hoseok’s lap with all the grace of the satan spawn she is, easily wrapping a single arm around his neck and taking a sip from your abandoned frappe. She hums around the straw gaze trained on Jungkook’s bewildered expression, it brings her immense pleasure to see him so distressed.

“Why are you here and what do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, snatching the drink back.

“It was only a sip you’re overacting, besides it’s mostly water now anyways.” She scoffs feeling Hoseok wrap his arms tighter around her waist pulling her closer to him.

“You don’t understand, now my poor ____ has indirectly kissed you. She’s been tainted by your nasty germs, Hobi do something!” Jungkook whines cheeks flushing an unhealthy shade of red, it’s almost endearing how childlike that is of him.

“I don’t think I can do anything, since it’s already happened.” He replies easily long since used to antics and strange rivalry between his girlfriend and Jungkook. Yoonji licks her lips mischievously snickering before shooting a somewhat sultry gaze at Jungkook.

“Hmm, can I ask you something Junglebook?” she says.

“No, in fact I would very much enjoy it if you never spoke again. Yoongi how did the two of you share a womb?”

“I don't know, it just happened, what were you saying Yoonji?”

“It’s not my fault you prefer the fossil over there over me. I’m literally amazing, anyways what do you like about ____?” she asks, ignoring Yoongi’s muttering and the somewhat awkward silence that has settled over the table. Jungkook to his credit doesn't blow this out of proportion as he usually does, so she watches as he sits quietly hands wrapped around the cup. This time there’s a slow flush of color flooding his cheeks, it’s kind of cute in a weird ugly kind of way. It’s not like she found Jungkook particularly attractive, but she guesses she could, maybe if the boy next door was her type.

“I don’t know, she’s just really cute, she looks tiny compared to me, and I don't know, all of her?” the flush has spread to his neck and ears, a look she has to say she’s never witnessed before. Again cute in a gag her romcom kind of way, she would be sick if you hadn't already prepared her for his answer. She still fakes a gag either way destroying the warm bubble he’d created with all his mushy sappy feelings.

“You’re so lame, no wonder you didn't have friends in high school.” she laughs before planting a kiss to Hoseok’s cheek.

“You guys were my friends in high school.” he says, brows pinched together an ugly glare directed at Yoonji who has begun ignoring everyone, so that she can whisper to Hoseok.

“Ignoring Satan and the literal walking ball of sun, what are you doing for Valentine’s day?” Yoongi asks, sounding mildly irritated at the topic he himself has brought up.

“That’s like two weeks away, what does it have to do with us singles?” Jimin laughs resting his chin in an open palm.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have plans.”

“Valentine’s day is for girls, and again I’m single what would that do?”

“What are you doing for Valentines day Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, turning his gaze to Jungkook who has sat silently from the start. The expression he wears is of confusion, brows pinched as if he were sitting in on a pack meeting full of boomers that didn't understand the world of today.

“Jungkook?” Jimin says catching Jungkook’s attention.

“What is that?” he asks timidly, again silence settles over the group all of them wearing a different expression. It’s broken by Yoonji who literally looks like the cat who ate the canary, it’s truly disgusting and he wishes he never has to see it again.

“Are you serious, you don't know what Valentine’s day is.” she snickers, a little too happily for Jungkook who remains just as confused as he had been before.

"Your girlfriend is human." Jimin says just as unhelpful.

"She's a witch, not a human." he reminds them.

“Witch still lands on the human side of the spectrum.” The conversation is going in circles, he thinks feeling irritation creep into him at the way they all continue to discuss your race.

“Can we please keep this conversation moving? What is Valentines day?” he asks, letting just a tiny bit of irritation seep into his tone.

“It’s a human holiday, made for couples to celebrate love.” Taehyung says, adding to the conversation for the first time this morning and suddenly reminding everyone of his presence. He shrugs off their stare, instead gathering his things and leaving them just as easily as he had joined the conversation.

“Why is a human holiday so important all of a sudden? It isn’t anything like the summer solstice right?” Yoonji looks more and more amused the longer they stay on the topic, lips curling upward into a smile that is both haunting and sort of breathtaking in a sinister steal your soul kind of way. He shivers, deciding then that he’ll pray to the moon goddess for Hoseok’s sanity.

“God you really are out of the loop, poor doggy.” Yoonji laughs sliding into the vacant chair but making sure it’s pressed as close to Hoseok as possible.

“Hoseok, please.” Jungkook breathes, maybe it’s the fatigue that is allowing Yoonji to annoy him quicker than usual or maybe she’s just testing his patience more than usual. Either way he’s distracted by Jimin clearing his throat, always playing the peacekeeper.

“You’re right, it isn't like the summer solstice but for some reason the girls like it. I think humans traditionally give chocolate, small gifts, or do other romantic couple things. This is usually the day most people confess feelings to someone, it’s actually really popular nowadays. I think even my parents celebrate valentine's day.” Jimin says the last bit more to himself than to the others.

“Wait, so do you guys give girls chocolate?” he asks, genuinely interested.

“No, I’ve had people give me friendship chocolate before.” Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around the whole chocolate thing at least not right now. Still he wonders if you would like to receive a gift from him. He listens intently as Yoongi and Hoseok talk about a course they’re taking seemingly having forgotten the prior conversation with the departure of Yoonji and Jimin who share an astronomy class.

He’s not forgotten about the conversation later that week while he sits on Jin's couch killing time before he goes home after all you texted him earlier saying that you’d be studying in the library and not to wait up. Jin had been filling him in on the show that’s been playing for the last two hours, one based on eight individuals who all share a birthday and somehow a weird mental connection. Truth be told Jungkook has been staring listlessly at the screen the colors long since blurred as his eyes have lost focus, hazy blobs moving this way and that. The sound has been drowned out almost as if the volume has been turned down while he thinks.

“- Riley to me is the least useful of the cluster, don’t you think?” Jin asks, Jungkook hums along not really hearing what his friend has said.

“Whispers isn’t really a bad guy, and neither is Rajan’s dad, right?” he says this time watching intently as Jungkook hums again leaning further into the couch.

“Jungkook, seriously you aren’t even watching it.”

“I am, Sun is in prison and Joongki must die.” he mutters, blinking a few times before turning his gaze to meet Jin’s.

“What’s wrong, if you’re tired you should go home and get some sleep.” Jin huffs leaning back into the recliner.

“Not tired, just thinking.” he says unconvincingly around a yawn that stretches his mouth a little too wide, suddenly reminding Jin of a lion. They sit in the relative silence for a brief moment, the sounds of another fight scene playing in the background drags Jin’s gaze back to the TV.

“What are you doing for valentines day?” he finally asks, he feels his lips twitch at the way Jin is quick to pause the show.

“Why? Are you going to tell me how much you love me?”

“No, it’s just my first time hearing about it.” he mumbles pouting slightly. Jin wonders how this boy was going to lead a pack when he’s such a child, then again he doesn’t understand werewolf hierarchy all too well.

“Are you planning to celebrate it?” Jungkook stills, once again wondering if you would be happy to receive chocolate as the others had mentioned.

“I don't know maybe, do you think ____ would like it?” Jin can hear the uncertainty in Jungkook’s voice, and for some odd reason he wants to laugh. He shouldn't because it’s rare for Jungkook to really share his feelings with someone that isn't you. Instead he asks himself the same question, would you be happy if Jungkook gave you a gift. It’s hard to imagine with you being reserved and all, but he thinks that you might, if it was behind closed doors in the safety of your own home.

“Yeah, I think she would.” And his answer is worth it he thinks as he watches the way Jungkook’s eyes twinkle with determination at the prospect of surprising you. When Jungkook goes home that night he spends a little too much time doing what he calls ‘research’ completely ignoring the course work that sits beside his laptop on his desk.

The weekend has come again and Jungkook is more than tired between school, and trying to find the best kind of gift he’s stumped and a little miserable. It had snowed again, covering the roads that had already been cleared, what’s more is that you have virtually moved into the library the last week. He’s seen less of you in the past week than he has his whole life, which just makes him more irritable as he drags himself out of bed, hoping, no, praying that you are home today. It’s Saturday after all, and you should be here in bed cuddling him, but you aren’t so he thinks you might be in the sunroom again brewing more potions. He finds it empty, not a single sign that you had been there at all by now he’s beginning to worry.

Slowly he pads back down the hall stopping briefly when he catches a soft almost muted sigh. He recognizes it almost instantly, his gaze falling to the couch as he rounds it to find you curled up underneath a thin lap blanket. You look so comfortable he doesn’t have the heart to move you, so instead he opts for something a little different. Jungkook is quick to leave returning with a heavier blanket and a pillow before he’s slipping his body into the tiny crevice you’ve left between your body and the back of the couch. He’s almost sighing at the way you unconsciously snuggle closer to his warm, he pulls you in closer, tucking your body as close to him as possible but also keeping you both comfortable in the limited space. His eyelids begin to flutter, the past weeks exhausting catching up with him now that he’s found ultimate comfort with you.

When Jungkook wakes again he’s on his back, his pinky finger just barely skimming the sliver of skin exposed by the way your shirt has ridden up. You’ve yet to awaken, brows furrowed in your sleep, your face relaxes when he nuzzles the crown of your head. He cherishes these quiet moments, not that he didn't all the others but these were his favorite. Enjoyed the naturalness of it all, like this you weren’t hiding from others, you weren’t reserved, you were just yourself and he liked that. He briefly wonders what time it might be, when he feels you begin to stur, it always starts off slow. You sigh softly a single puff of air leaving your nose, then you nuzzle into what would usually be your pillow but today it’s Jungkook’s chest, next comes the twitch of your fingers followed by the stretch of your arm, hand seeking the warmth that is usually Jungkook beside you. Instead your hands tangle in the softness of the blanket pulling it closer softly knocking him on the chin as you snuggle into the comfort.

“____, baby it’s time to get up.” he murmurs voice husky from disuse.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Gotta make us some breakfast.” he sighs feeling you shift further before you sit up, your eyes are half lidded, hair mused. The long sleeve your wear is slipping off one of your shoulders, you’re blinking sluggishly, gaze still unfocused but at least you're awake now. His hands find purchase on your thighs, squeezing them slightly so that your gaze meets his.

“You awake yet baby? Need some help?” he asks watching the way you frown down at him before shaking your head, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. His heart squeezes in his chest, a slow heat swirling low in his belly the longer you straddle him. You shift your weight as you stretch, back arched in a way that pulls his gaze to your chest, through the thin material he can make out the stiff peaks of your nipples. There’s a twitch of his fingers as he restrains himself from feeling the soft weight of them in his palms, but there are other things troubling him at the moment. Mostly the way he can feel the heat of your pussy through the thin material of panties as you settle more of your weight on his crotch.

“Breakfast?” you ask, the single word is enough to drag his thoughts back to something fluffy, something softer, less deprived. He squeezes at your thighs again sitting up to press a kiss to your cheek before sliding you off his lap and intertwining your fingers as you follow him to the bathroom.

Jungkook is humming as he sways at the stove chuckling as you squeeze your arms tighter around his waist when he stops swaying. It’s odd for you to be this openly affectionate, even here in the safety of your home mostly because he likes to take advantage of the situations persuading you to do things he would rather keep to himself. Still he can’t say he isn't enjoying himself, at least he was until he hears the door fly open and the telltale muttering of one Min insufferable Yoonji. Your grip tightens further as you press yourself closer almost as if you’re trying to hide from her, but that doesn't make sense, as much as he hates to admit it you two are super close.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and just her tone makes him pause.

“Making breakfast.” he replies before he hears a scoff.

“I wasn't talking to you Junglebook, ____ what are you doing, you were supposed to meet me three hours ago.” she sighs as you whine pathetically against Jungkook’s back rubbing your face into the soft material of his shirt.

“I can’t hear you.”

“M’tired, don't wanna go.” you cry and Jungkook feels heat rush to his cheeks at the tone you use, it reminds him of the way you sound when he’s balls deep in you. He really shouldn't be thinking of that, especially not with that thing you call your best friend around.

“This was your decision, I’m just there for moral support. Now let's go before I catch whatever disease Jungkook carries.” she sniffs, narrowing her eyes when you don’t budge.

“Can’t you at least let her eat breakfast before you drag her away?” Jungkook asks, moving the grilled cheese to the cooling rack glaring at Yoonji over his shoulder. She sighs heavily but silently agrees as she takes a seat at the kitchen island. He can hear the clicks of her keyboard as she typed something into her phone followed by the swoosh of her message being sent. Briefly, and just briefly he wondered who the hell would want to talk to her so damn early. Though he can’t really call afternoon early now can he.

You look sleepy when you’re finally ready to leave after having eaten your weight in bread, cheese, and butter, a look he absolutely adores. Yoonji is standing in the open door typing on her phone again, ignoring the flowery atmosphere that blankets the two of you like some cliche shoujo manga. The way you smile up at him makes his heart flutter, a pleasant wave of warm slowly makes its way through his body as you hug him and he’s planting a kiss to the crown of your head not so subtly scent marking you. It’s only when Yoonji makes an exasperated sound do you two pull away.

“See you later, be safe.” he says smiling in a way that makes your tummy flutter.

“I will.” you almost sigh before Yoonji glares at him once more and pulls you along. With you gone, he has nothing else to do than to look through the possible gifts options he’d bookmarked. There’s so many things to chose from, gourmet chocolates, edible arrangements, teddy bears, flowers, jewelry, spa days, sex? It’s all so much, he’s saved so many links it’s a folder that he’s pinned to his bookmarks bar on his search engine. Maybe he should ask for help, Yoonji wouldn’t help him even if he asked nicely while on his knees, but perhaps Yoongi and Seokjin would. He has to take that chance, and pray to the moon goddess that they’ll offer their insight.

“I can’t help you.” Yoongi says after Jungkook has gathered the most reliable of his friends.

“Why not?”

“Prior engagements, and this if your girlfriend. You should know what she’d like, let me know what you go with.” he says, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck and leaving the oldest and the youngest together.

“Jin please tell me you’ll be more helpful than Yoongi.” he whines, and Seokjin takes pity on him because as much as he hates to say it, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“I can try but it really depends on what you think ____ would like the best.” Jungkook beams at Jin’s willingness to help even if he doesn’t promise anything. He’s quick to pull open his laptop, opening one too many links that have both their heads spinning. Jungkook’s because he’s just so excited to surprise you and Jin is mostly amazed at Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. He switches through tabs, scanning over the things Jungkook has chosen, truth be told he’s not sure if any material items would be any good. He also doesn't like the ridiculous price listed beside the edible arrangements and gourmet chocolates, absolutely gawks at the price next to the jewelry. It’s not like Seokjin doesn’t know what kind of family Jungkook comes from, sure werewolves were a dime a dozen but not Jungkook, he was from one of the founding packs and in being so he was more than well off and that came from a literal prince of the sea such as himself. Still he wonders what kind of craftsmanship could be worth that much, or did Jungkook not care about price? He wants to laugh at the sheer absurdity that is the younger and his lack of care for things such as this, but he supposes that was where he came in.

“What did you have in mind?” Jin asks hesitantly, almost dreading the conversation.

“I don’t know a little of everything.” Jungkook answers sheepishly.

“A bit of everything.” Jin repeats already appalled at the idea. “Maybe you should stick to one, how about flowers?”

“____, do you think she’ll like them?”

“I don't know, i’m sure she’ll be able to use them in her potions.”

“Nevermind, not flowers. Then maybe jewelry?”

“Does ____ wear jewelry?”

“Not really, she doesn’t like being too flashy.” he mumbles.

“What about chocolate?” Jin finally asks, skipping over all the other options for fear of prolonging this dreadful conversation.

“That’s perfect, I should order it right now.” he beams, reaching for the laptop in Seokjin’s grapes but coming up empty when Jin scoots away from him.

“Or, and this is just a thought, but why don’t you make it yourself?” it’s posed as a question, though to Jungkook it sounds more like a statement, a suggestion if you will. One that he doesn’t think sounds too bad after all how hard can making chocolate be? He smiles at Jin, in a way that lets Jin know that it’s finally over. But boy was he in for a trip.

Jungkook had dragged Jin to the closest supermarket, throwing every bar of chocolate into the cart that he could find, even including other ingredients. After the supermarket they’d gone to a craft store for silicone molds, he’d even stopped at a small variety store for what he called cuter molds, because the ones from the craft store were too plain. Truth be told Jin wasn’t too sure what Jungkook would do with all that he had purchased but he knew he’d find some adequate guinea pigs for Jungkook. The younger thanks him with a meal followed by a brief goodbye before heading home to start the process of chocolate making.

As it turns out chocolate making isn’t too hard, but there’s something unsatisfying about melting premade chocolate and filling molds. It’s okay Jungkook supposes as he demolds yet another batch of half strawberry half milk chocolate rilakkuma molds. There are a few more trays of chocolates, some have pocky others have nuts but he’s still dissatisfied paying no mind to them as he dumps the finished chocolates into a tupperware instead of the box he’s intended to pack them in. This was supposed to be a test run, a successful one if they asked him but one that left him thinking that it wouldn't be enough. He heaves a heavy sigh as he finishes pulling the chocolate from the molds, moving to seal the tupperware that held them.

He’s decided then as he’s stacking the containers in a canvas bag that he’s going to Jin’s again he needs more help, but before that he needs to clean up so that you won't come home to this mess. He also doesn't want to risk you finding out what he’s planned as a surprise, he’s so focused on the task at hand he doesn't hear the door. Much less the way you and Yoonji speak animatedly as you make your way further into the house.

“Jungkook what’s this?” you ask giggling the slightest as he flinches at the gentle hand you place on his shoulder. His shock is quickly replaced by something gentle, something that has your brow furrowing. Maybe it’s the way he widens his eyes as he turns his body to face you properly, he used to do this a lot when he was trying to hide something from you back when you were kids. This faux innocent look got him in more trouble than you can remember and you don't like it, especially now.

“Hey baby, I didn't know you’d be home so soon.” he says wrapping you up in a hug. You squirm in his hold trying in vain to get him to loosen his hold on you, which makes you all the more suspicious of what he might be hiding.

“Jungkook, please.” you murmur a little confused as he continues to evade your question from earlier.

“I’m going to Jin’s for a bit. I'll be back with some take out is that okay?” he says instead grabbing the bag and heading for the door. You stare after he’s gone, a little more than confused at what has just transpired.

“Is he going to bring enough for three?” Yoonji asks from her place on the couch the tv playing a reality show you don’t particularly enjoy.

“Why is Hermione always out of breath? It’s like she’s always on the brink of hyperventilating in every scene.” Yoongi asks as he sits beside Jin, a half confused half annoyed expression sitting pretty on his face. To his credit at least he isn't hyper analyzing other aspects of the film, ones that he knows are a lot more pressing than Hermione’s inability to catch her breath. So you would imagine how relieved he is to get the door after a series of knocks, even more relieved to see Jungkook if only for a moment. Jungkook to his credit doesn't look any less different than he did earlier in the day, in fact he looks normal? Maybe he should be worried that Jungkook looks significantly less excited than he was mere hours ago. Jungkook thrusts the bag at Jin before throwing his weight down on the couch beside a very amused Yoongi.

“What is this?” Jin asks, a little too hesitant before recognizing his ‘como se llama’ eco friendly bag.

“Chocolate.” he answers quickly but a little too quietly while Yoongi perks up at the prospect of free candy.

“I thought you said you didn't have my bag,” Jin says pulling out one too many containers “are these my tupperware?” Jungkook remains silent, gaze settled on the tv as Yoongi pulls open one of the tupperware.

“What’s with all the chocolate, kinda cutesy don’t you think?” Yoongi comments offhandedly popping a few pieces into his mouth with a hum.

“They were for ____.” Yoongi pauses mid chew, turning his attention to the younger.

“Why would you give us candy meant for your girlfriend?” he asks around a mouthful of strawberry chocolate hearts.

“It was practice, I didn’t wanna give her homemade chocolates after all.” he sighs, turning his gaze to Jin who still stands beside Yoongi who continues to eat the chocolate.

“Do you have a backup plan?” Jin’s gaze falls to Yoongi who posed the question, he’s glad he wasn't the one who asked. He watches in a weird mix of concern and amusement as Jungkook’s eyes glaze over before he whines.

“No,” he all but sobs looking up at Jin with a tremble to his lip “what if ____ hates me because i didn't give her anything.” It’s so hard to hold in his laughter, Jungkook was being a little dramatic.

“There are other things you can make besides chocolate y’know.” Yoongi sighs, setting the bowl on the coffee table and finally pausing the movie after all he really likes the scene where Harry realizes the patronus he saw was his own.

“Why not bake her something, there are plenty of pastries that use chocolate.” he offers, ignoring the way both Jungkook and Jin gawk at him.

“Is hell freezing over, are you actually offering to help?” Jin gasps a little too dramatically, it makes Yoongi scowl.

“No, you ugly I won't be helping but I might know someone who can.” beside him Jungkook makes a choking noise, one that has both of them casting their gaze in his direction.

“Thank you so much Yoongi, I’ll give you my first born.”

“Keep it, I’ll have enough of my own.” he says, scrunching his nose at the thought of Jungkook’s kids. Jin on the other hand is grumbling at the level of disrespect from a solid 8 when he was in fact a 10, a 10!

“Go home, I’ll text you the information later.” he sighs trying to pacify Jin who continues to list all that makes him a 10 and Yoongi an 8. He does as he’s told, trying his best to slip out so as not to be lumped in with Yoongi even though he was feeling grateful for his hyung. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he’s scowling down at the sole message that lights up his screen.

my moon ♡

➣ don’t forget the takeout, plus extra Yoonji is here :)

He supposes he can deal with Satan just this once, he’s got a good feeling about this.

Jungkook is feeling overwhelmed to say the least, it’s Wednesday and he’s suddenly swamped with course work. To add insult to injury he hasn’t heard a single word from Yoongi who has also somehow gone missing for the last three days following their conversation over the weekend. He’s so tired he’s thinking of skipping his only class for tomorrow, what’s worse is that valentine's day is a week and a half away now and he’s still very much at square one. Luckily he’s at home so he’s free to let out a tear or two of pure frustration, he curses Yoongi for lying to him. What's worse was that he played nice with the she-demon too! Maybe he’s overreacting, there are worse things than not having giving you a gift for some stupid human holiday. Still though, he wanted to make this one memorable, even if it ended up being the only one you celebrated together. Hell you aren’t even here, he’s sure you’re doing it on purpose now.

How much extra credit could one person need, especially when you were one of the top students in your field. If push came to shove he would drag you back if he had too, but right now he just wants to curl up and pretend he didn't care about this stupid holiday. It would seem though that the universe won’t let him throw a pity party because as soon as his eyes fall shut there’s a knock at the door. He ignores it at first hoping it’s just one of his friends and they’ll leave if he doesn’t make a sound. He shouldn't have bet on it, when the knocks continue. It’s funny how urgent they sound, but really he just wants to be left alone. Still he groans, dragging himself off the couch and shuffling to the door with a scowl. The door swings open as he readies to spit nasty words at whoever has interrupted him only to catch a faint whiff of apples. His gaze falls to someone just a head shorter than him, a woman, one he doesn’t recognize.

“Can I help you?” he asks, feeling the chill of the air nip at his nose as he takes a deep breath, catching the scent of a prey shifter species.

“I um, well, are you um, are you Jungkook?” she asks, her gaze easily meeting anything else except his own as he stares. He’s sizing her up, not in a scummy way of course, how could he when he had you, but he doesn't recognize her at all. Nor does her scent smell familiar so he really can't place how he would know her.

“Yes, and you are?” he finally says watching as her nerves seem to settle the slightest, though her heart is still beating a little too loudly for his liking.

“I’m Bunny, Yoongi said you would be expecting me?” she offers up easily though it’s almost a whisper. His features twist into something of confusion, Yoongi said what now? That damned cat had gone MIA, surely this was a prank or something.

“How do you know Yoongi?” He asks instead, watching a shade of rose color the light olive of her cheeks.

“We’re dating.” she mumbles bashfully clenching her hands at her side. Suddenly he recalls pestering Yoongi into letting them meet his girlfriend, and the former almost immediately putting his foot down in a firm no. So really is he at fault he didn't recognize Yoongi’s girlfriend, someone he has never met, until today that is.

“Oh, you’re that Bunny!” he almost howls watching as she flinches at the sheer volume of it. It’s cute really, he takes back what he said about her not being as hot as you, though you will always be number one in his book.

“Yeah, did Yoongi not tell you that I would be here today?”

“I don't think so.” he answers easily, watching the way she scowls more to herself than him, as she pulls her phone out and presses it to her ear.

“You didn't tell him I would be here?” Bunny says after a brief moment. He can slightly hear what he assumes is Yoongi’s voice though it's more muffled than anything.

“But Yoonie you said you would tell him. No, I was on time. Are you sure you texted him? Yoongi! Okay, you owe me big time. Promise? Okay, love you.” she finishes hanging up with a sigh, the rose on her cheeks is darker bordering more on red now.

“Sorry about that, Yoongi was supposed to send you my schedule. He said you needed help with baking a pastry?” she says with a smile sweetly at him.

“Wait, you're the someone he knows?” she tilts her head slightly brows furrowed at his words.

“I guess I am, can I come in or is this a bad time?” He’s quick to step aside, showing her to the living room and offering her something to drink. It’s odd to be alone with another woman, one who is very much not single but still weird since he’s never done it before. It’s almost off putting, so much so he feels a growl building in his chest. He really shouldn't be so guarded, especially when she is harmless and seems to have no ill intentions. He’s placing a cup of tea before her taking the seat adjacent to her as she smiles warmly at him.

“So what did you have in mind?” she asks, not unkindly pulling a notepad from her bag and resting it in her lap while she waits for his answer.

“I’m not entirely sure, I just know it has to be something with chocolate.”

“That narrows it down a bit, do you want something more elegant or simplistic?”

“Simplistic, my girlfriend doesn’t like things that are too flashy.” he sighs thinking of you and the easy smile you give him when you're eating sweets. It eases his nerves the slightest, as Bunny takes note of this.

“This almost seems like a therapy session, what with you sitting here taking notes and all.” he says to break the gentle scritch scratch sound of her pen on paper. She pauses, a small hesitant smile on her lips as she moves to meet his gaze.

“Truth be told I’m a little nervous, you’re aura is a little intimidating.” she chuckles, grip tightening on her pen. He can see the reasoning behind her words after all werewolves very rarely interacted out of their species even amongst the supernatural.

“You shouldn’t be, I’m house trained after all.” he’s amused as a flurry of giggles flee her being, and she tries in vain to stifle them. After that she seems to relax, easy narrowing down their options to a devil's food cake or a chocolate tart. He likes the idea of a tart so it’s with a little glee that he makes his decision.

“I’ll be here tomorrow at the same time and we can get started.” she says as she gathers her belongings while he shows her out. He’s excited to say the least a little more than he was when he was with the chocolate. So he guesses that in the end Yoongi was a least a little helpful.

True to her word Bunny is at his door at the same time as the previous day and Jungkook is more than happy to let her in, even taking some of the shopping bags out of her hand. He isn’t quite sure how he’ll do, but he is confident in his ability to try. After her departure and a stressful amount of time spent doing school work you had come home, sans Yoonji of course and you’d cuddled before he’d made the two of you a light dinner. Even after he’d spent too many hours reading over a single chocolate tart recipe, so much so he probably knew it by heart.

“I brought enough ingredients to make room for trial and error. You don’t have to be good at it from the get go, just follow the recipe okay?” she says in a voice that is oddly calming, he wonders briefly if she uses it on Yoongi. He nods his head in confirmation tying an apron around his waist as she does the same. She’s quick to take the reins, directing him in the tasks, and helping him when he asks for it. She says that they’ll be working in pieces, cutting the recipe in half for now as she whisks the ice water and egg yolk while Jungkook mixes the dry ingredients with butter.

“Making the dough is easy, the baking part is what usually takes a while to get right. I’m sure you’ll do fine, after all Yoongi has told me you’re a great cook.” she offers still whisking the egg and water.

“This is actually my first time baking in a while, I’ve found that I’m not that good at it.” he laughs.

“Really, your girlfriend must be very special. It’s actually kind of romantic.” He offers her a smile as they move to the next step. As it turns out Bunny is a very good teacher, helpful and patient when Jungkook thinks he might’ve messed up the dough. He learns that she’s studying to be a preschool teacher, and that one day she hopes to have a litter of her own. A soft rouge settles on her cheeks after she had divulged that tidbit of information before she asks him what his course of study is and his dreams for the future. The dough is now chilling in the refrigerator as they wait, so he supposes he can indulge her if only a bit.

“I’m doing pack management, an easy degree for someone like me.”

“Yoongi said you were loaded and I didn't believe him, but i guess it’s true.” she laughs.

“I guess that’s one way to look at it, I just want to be a good Alpha.”

“How about pups? Do you want any?”

“Of course, I want a whole pack full of my pups. I just have to marry my mate first.” She seems to perk up at this, a smile splitting her features.

“Marriage, have you asked her yet?” she asks a little too giddy for his liking but he feels a blush color his cheeks regardless.

“Not yet, I don’t think it’s the right time.” She nods her head in understanding, before pressing him for any dirt he has on Yoongi. All in all the first lesson goes smoothly, well except for the fact that he over cooks one of the tart shells and burns the other. She reminds him that there is still room for improvement, which somehow settles his nerves. He agrees with her after all there are still nine days left before the 14th.

He manages to get the tart shell perfect seven days before valentine’s day, which means he has a week to learn how to make the filing and how to put it all together. He’s feeling a little more stressed than usual with midterms coming up and your virtual lack of presence over the last few days. Really he’s starting to wonder just what is keeping you away from home all these days especially when you easily redirect his attention any time he asks. Maybe he’s overthinking it, it could really just be school work. He’s hissing, as the knife he’s using to chop the semi sweet chocolate slices through his middle finger. Luckily for him Bunny is quick to usher him away from the island and towards the sink. She wraps a bandage around his cut offering him a rubber glove to cover his bandaged hand before she wipes down the blood that had leaked onto the counter.

“Are you okay?” she asks a little too hesitantly for someone who he has become quick friends with.

“Yeah, I was just stuck in my thoughts.”

“We can always take a break, we have time.” She reminds him again, moving to clean up before leaving him alone and saying that he deserves a break from not only school but baking too. With Bunny gone he has some time to himself, time to think, to cool down and let his rational mind take control of the rampant nasty thoughts rearing their ugly little heads. To his credit he’s never once thought that you would cheat on him, it just wasn't in your personality to do so. He knew that you wouldn’t, but he really can't help letting his head tell him otherwise. Still he would know if you were, his wolf would feel it and he’s yet to cause a commotion. He decides then that he’s overthinking it, there’s a high chance that you’re just off doing god knows what with Yoonji. He doesn’t like that either but it’s still better than what the little voice in his head is saying.

Five days from Valentine's Day, he and Bunny are making the filing for the tart. He’s once again chopping semi-sweet chocolate listening to her as she tells him the next step. She’s made the tart shells beforehand so it would be easier on him so as to relieve some of the pressure for a perfect tart. He’d thanked her for the consideration when she’d arrived, which led to now as he combined heavy cream, milk heating to a low simmer before he mixed in the chopped semi sweet chocolate. He added sugar and watched as Bunny beat the eggs needed to finish the filing. The only thing left to do was stir the eggs into the chocolate mixture before pouring it into the tart shell and baking it again. With a timer they set out to clean up, before Bunny excuses herself telling him to try the tart with some friends and if he needed any further help she was only a phone call away. With her departure he’s quick to call up Jimin and Taehyung asking them rather cryptically if they wanted to come over. To his surprise they showed up rather quickly and they brought Namjoon along.

“Smells good in here.” Jimin comments.

“Really good, what are you making?” Taehyung adds.

“Are you baking?” Namjoon asks, catching the attention of the other two.

“I am, don’t tell ____. I need you to taste test it for me.” he says quickly, moving to run his fingers through his hair as his nerves kick in again.

“Cool.” Taehyung laughs, throwing his weight down on the couch before turning the TV on to show with a female assassin who’s in love with a woman from MI6. Jungkook gnaws on his lip as he watches from the kitchen, silence falls over the four of them as they watch the events unfold on screen. Jungkook is surprised at Taehyung's choice, mostly because he very rarely enjoys anything the former recommends. Since he prefers shows he can use as background noise that he doesn't have to pay much attention to. But this one is good, it’s interesting enough he barely hears the timer go off. None of the others move, gaze trained on the show as the blonde assassin plays a prank on her retainer. He likes the relationship between the retainer and the assassin, in fact he likes them a lot more than the lady from mi6. The tart is warm in his oven mitted hand, and smells amazing if he does say so himself. The shell is golden brown and the filing looks just as beautiful as he’d seen in the pictures. But he’s still not in the clear just yet, he still needs his taste testers to give him the green light.

The nervous flutter of butterflies has returned, swirling in the low of his belly as he leaves the tart to cool. He’s gone back to gnawing on his lip, thoughts running rampant that maybe it won’t be good enough, perhaps Bunny had been lying to him, maybe this would be a disaster. He tastes blood, the skin of his inner lip torn open by all the anxious gnawing, he swipes his tongue over the wound letting the coppery taste linger the longer he sits in his pool of self imposed anxiousness. The sounds of the TV are muffled, the images blurring as his gaze grows unfocused the longer he sits and waits, there’s something about the waiting that gets to him. His gaze slowly falls to the tart as it cools to the side, his brows furrowing as he looks at it.

“Oh are you cutting it?” Jimin asks, gaze focused on Jungkook and the knife he holds in hand. He can barely manage a nod, watching just as silently as his friends crowd him at the counter as he cuts them all a slice. He doesn't wait for them to take a bite, watching his fork easily cut through the chocolate and the shell hearing the soft clink of the metal on ceramic. He slowly brings the fork to his lips, and when he finally takes a bite he almost weeps.

He wakes up to you snuggled into him, an arm and leg slung over his body to keep him close. To his surprise you don’t have anything to do that day you offer up when he asks what your plans for the day are. He tries to hide the way he freezes at your revelation, after all you’d both been busy leading up to today. Finally the holiday is here and he was ready to prepare your gift while you’re out but this has thrown him for a loop. He counts himself lucky that it’s a weekend before he shoots a text to Jin asking to borrow his kitchen and that he would be more than happy to offer compensation for said favor. Jin easily agrees, reminding him that if he wanted to use it he had to be there before five since he had a date. The real pain is having to leave you when he finally has you to himself, he has to physically force himself to leave you alone with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back early.

Time seems to fly by, because when he finally reaches Jin’s after what he thought was a quick trip to the supermarket the sun hangs lower in the sky than when he’d left. Jin greets him at the door, as he comes through bags in hand, before he rushes to the kitchen. To his surprise Namjoon is here, and he offers a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, taking note of the way Namjoon is dressed up.

“Jin and I have dates in the human realm, thought it’d be easier to catch a ride with him.” Namjoon says with a shrug.

“Aren’t you afraid of biting them?”

“You’d be surprised how many humans are into that.” Namjoon laughs, catching the look Jin gives him.

“Anyways, we have some time before we head out. I can help you if you need it.” Jin offers, tying an apron around his waist. Jungkook beams at the older, grateful for the help even though he’s determined to do all the work himself he’s more than happy his friends offer the help. The motions come easily, the dough and the filing are easy enough to do now after he has practiced. He makes a mental note to send Bunny a thank you gift and he supposes Yoongi too. Namjoon offers idle chit chat to fill the silence as he compliments the tart Jungkook had made all those days ago, saying how he’d been thinking about it often, he even goes far enough to say he would pay to have Jungkook make him one. The three of them laugh, Jin taking slight offence refusing to be upstaged by the youngest. Some odd hours later the tarts are done, one for you, one for Jin as thank you and one for Namjoon who looks more excited over the pastry than the date.

“Thanks for the tart, I hope she likes it.” Jin says as he locks his door leading Namjoon to his car. The drive home is a calming, classical music filling his ears as he lets his frenzied mind unwind. He thinks that he shouldn't be worried, he knows you and that is enough to finally calm the nervous flutter of butterflies in his tummy.

It would seem the butterflies have returned as Jungkook stands awkwardly on the porch, canvas bag in hand. His heart beats against his ribs too violently he’s afraid there’ll be bruising, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous in his whole life, perhaps it’s the holiday, truly he isn’t quite sure. He recalls Jimin saying that Valentine’s Day was made to celebrate love, while Yoongi said it was capitalism but he liked the thought of celebrating love better. Jungkook was a sap like that, and what better way to celebrate love than to give you something that he’d worked hard to make to show you, his one and only how much you meant to him? It’s this thought that finally frees the butterflies, setting them free from the confines of his belly taking his nervousness with them. Still he takes a deep breath before he finally enters his home.

“Hey you’re here!” you beam at him from down the hall. He takes in the dress you wear, something loose and flowery but still form fitting enough it hugs all his favorite parts. His gaze however remains on the apron you wear, something frilly and cutesy he’s never seen before.

“I am, are you cooking?” he asks, unable to help the way his tone fluctuates the slightest on the last word. There’s this bashful smile spreading your lips, tugging them upward ever so slightly it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I am, come and sit I’m almost done.” he does as he’s told, taking in the absolutely decadent scent of food. You fuss over him, taking the bag from him and setting it gently on the counter. He’s seated at the table chin resting on an open palm watching you work. It’s nice he thinks, especially seeing you dressed up for something as simple as dinner. Still it’s a welcomed change, a sudden furrow settling on his brow as he remembers you aren’t a particularly good cook and as such usually refrain from doing so.

“Hey, where’d you learn to cook?” he asks.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, but if you must know I had Yoonji and Yoonji teach me how to make you something special.” you say shooting him a smirk over your shoulder, it stirs something in his belly something that he struggles to tamp down.

“Oh yeah, special occasion?” he teases with an easy smile.

“Just wanna spoil my man.”

“Hmm, lucky him, wonder where he’s at.” you gasp dramatically. Turning off the stove while pointing tongs at him.

“I do too, he’s very charming, cute smile, big, y'know all the things a girl likes?” she sighs as his cheeks pinken at the unexpected praise.

“You think I’m big?”

“Of course baby.” you simper, plating the food before cutting up the steak. He smirks as you saunter over placing the plate before him leaning up as you lean down to plant a soft kiss to his lips. He hums as you nibble at the skin of his lips, one of his hands moving to squeeze your hip before you pull away. You take your seat opposite of his, careful to remove the apron and setting it aside.

“Go ahead, dig in.” you say watching with rapt attention as he takes a bit of the steak and some greens. His gaze never leaves yours even as he takes a bite, letting the taste wash over his tongue. You smile so wide eyes sparkling as he groans, the savory bite of meat melts on his tongue, and he finally looks away.

“Oh god, what did they teach you?” he asks around a mouthful, quick to dig in as you giggle softly.

“Enough, Yoonji said you should be grateful she taught me well and that this was her one good deed for the year.” you laugh chewing the bite of steak. He nods his head, it seems he’ll be indebted to her.

“So this was the prior engagement Yoongi had mentioned.” he says more to himself than you.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, this is really good. My compliments to the chef.” He loves the way you smile at his compliments. The rest of dinner goes by much the same, the two of you exchanging teasing words in between bites and soon enough you're doing the dishes. You’re drying them as Jungkook rinses, resting comfortably close to one another when you spot the canvas bag that Jungkook had come home with.

“What’s in the bag?” you ask turning to look up at him taking the last dish from him to dry it.

“What bag?”

“The one you came home with, what’s in it?” you ask again as you dry your hands. He turns to see the bag, and suddenly he’s reminded of the tart.

“Oh, you go sit on the couch, it's a surprise.” he says spinning you in the direction of the couch smacking your ass playfully when you don’t budge. You flinch slightly as the mild sting, moving towards to take a seat on the couch as he says. It’s not long before he’s settling beside you as you look down at his hands to see a single slice of chocolate tart topped with whipped cream. Your brows furrow, lips twitching as you fight a smile.

“I made this for you, happy valentine’s day.” he says bashfully, chuckling softly when your gaze shoots up to meet his.

“Jungkook, you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted too, besides it’s mostly self indulgent.” he whispers leaning into you to slot his lips against yours. He breathes in your sigh, tilting his head the slightest to deepen the kiss relishing in the taste of you before he pulls away.

“You taste like steak.” you giggle while he simply rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, well then I’d say we taste the same.” He pecks you once, twice, three times sighing when he finally pulls away taking the fork and bringing up a small portion of the tart to your lips.

“Open up baby.” he breaths eyes half lidded watching intently as your lips part ever so slightly wrapping around the pastry teeth scraping over the fork to catch every last bit. The rich taste of the chocolate washes over your tongue. You moan slightly blinking sluggishly as you savor the taste of the creamy filling parting your lips for more. Jungkook's pants feel tight as he feeds you more, each bite you take is more painful as he finally lets his mind wander. Let’s himself think of all those nasty little things he’d been holding back for a little too long.

“Need you baby.” he breathes, moving to take your bottom lip between his teeth. You whimper softly pressing yourself closer to him as much as you can. He’s quick to set the plate aside pulling you onto his lap, pulling you down by the hips so you can feel him press against you right where you need him. He swallows you gasp as he gently thrusts his hips up into you, teeth nipping at your lip again because he just needs to feel you.

“Want you Kook, please.” you murmur against his lips as he slowly trails them to your jaw and neck. He hums hands squeezing your thighs with a muffled groan as he slides them under the hem of your skirt, finger slipping into the waistband of your panties and giving a swift tug.

“Want these off baby.” you nod eagerly shakily sliding off his lap to quickly pull them off as he rids himself of his pants and boxers. His hands find your thighs again, squeezing as he pulls you to straddle his lap once more. Your fingers knot themselves in his hair, tugging slightly to tilt his face up for another kiss, mewling as he slides his fingers through your folds spreading your slick and rubbing your clit in small tight circles. You buck your hips as heat swirls in your belly, sighing shakily as his fingers dip into your heat.

“So wet for me, how bad d’you want it?” he breathes, nuzzling your cheek as your fingers tighten in his hair.

“So bad, kook plea- oh!” you squeal as his sinks a finger further into you, pumping it slowly as he eases in a second finger in beside it basking in the way you clench around them whimpering as you drop your hips with every upward stroke of his fingers.

“That’s it baby, just a little more, don’t wanna hurt you.” he sighs feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about being buried in your warmth.

“Need you, please.” Your hips grind into his palm crying out as he pulls his fingers from your heat, soothing you with soft bites to your shoulders.

“Shh, I got you, s’okay, ready for me?” he asks, not really expecting an answer. He spreads your arousal as he gives his cock a few pumps before he lines himself up to your opening.

“Deep breath okay, yeah just like that.” It’s a tight fit as he slowly pushes into your warmth, you groan into his ear at the stretch, twitching as he buries himself deeper. There are tears in your eyes as you clench around his girth, crying out as he grinds your hips into his. You can't take it, can almost taste your release as he continues to grind your hips into his as he whispers soft praise into your skin. His grip on your hips loosens, breath ragged as you continue to grind down on him feeling your walls flutter around his length. Your panting broken incomprehensible words, one’s he recognizes easily as your plea for help. His palm comes down on your ass, the sharp smack accompanied by your gasp when he thrusts into you. He only manages a few pumps of his hips before you wail, clenching around his cock so tightly it almost pains him to just sit and let you ride out the wave of your orgasm. Your body has grown slack against him, head buried in his neck as he rubs at your back.

“Are you tapping out on me?” he chuckles into your skin grunting as you twitch in his lap, squeezing your thighs closer.

“Gimme a sec.” you murmur sleepily, lips ghosting over the mole on his neck. He’ll give you all the time you need because you won’t be sleeping tonight.

“Happy valentines day, baby.” he growls when he feels you begin to rock your hips easily lifting you both off the couch and making his way to your bedroom.

“I can't, it's too much.” You cry.

“It’s okay, just a little more.” Jungkook reassures you softly.

“P-please s’too much.” The sob that you let out is whiny, bordering on distressed. Yoonji’s cheeks heat the longer she stands in the hallway, maybe she should’ve announced her entrance instead of barging in. Perhaps if she did she wouldn’t have walked in on you and Jungkook fucking in the kitched.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s perfect.” he sighs followed by your whine, and so Yoonji decided she should just leave. After all there was no use in interrupting if it meant being scarred by the image of her friends mid fuck. She definitely didn't need to see Jungkook’s tiny weiner, gross she thinks closing the door as gently as she can and leaving them blissfully unaware of her accidental presence.

“I hate cutting onion.” you cry when Jungkook cups your face and plants a few kisses to your lips.

“I know baby, but you wanted to learn.” he laughs as you grumble to yourself and he sweeps you up into a hug.

“So should we move on?” he asks, watching you nod excitedly, he’s equally excited to see what the future holds. It may have taken some time and more than ten ounces of semi sweet chocolate but eventually Jungkook learned that you would be the sweetest thing in his life.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #emm writes #an emm writes production #emms jungkook content #collab fic #x reader #bangtanedu #bangtanarmynet #heartsforbtsnet #tbh I might’ve dragged this on a little too much #this might be a clusterf*ck of a fic #long fic #mine writings #seriously I have no idea why it’s 12.4k #ah ranting in the tags as usual #read all the other fics they’re probably better than this #okay I’m done #hope you liked it and please excuse all the spelling mistakes

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