#sandie says ✨
Text
I’m just saying that Ran, Sanzu, or Baji would be shirtless and teasing, a stupid cocky grin on their face and god forbid they know you want them because they’ll make you repeat it over n over again.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
“Say it again, yeah?”
“You think you deserve it?”
They’re so quick to put you on the bed, taking off your sleep shorts n kissing your clit through your panties, they love to see your breathing hitch and how you mouth falls into an o shape when he pulls your panties to the side to lick a long stripe at your folds.
“so fuckin’ good.” n he’s getting, pulling the hair tie off his wrist with his teeth to hold it while he gathers his hair into a ponytail.
He’ll definitely pull your pretty panties off you n start kissing at your thighs <3
Im gonna c r y
210 notes
·
View notes
Photo
The couple that makes rainbows together stays together.✨🌈✨
#Going Jellyfishing#SBSP#Fanart#SpongeBob SquarePants#Sandy Cheeks#💛Spandy🤎#I looked back at my previous ‘SpongeBob + Rainbows’ post and noticed that these two were right next to each other LOL.#Quite the coincidence for one episode to have one half of a pairing you ship make a rainbow...#... and have the next episode with a rainbow be one with the other half of said pairing.👀#I’d like to think that she picked up this trick from SpongeBob at some point. After all even scientists...#... need to remember to use their imagination sometimes!✨🌈✨#Also yeah - they’re totes LGBT. They’re bi and ace and in love. That’s all I can say.💗💜💙+🖤🤍💜
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
So in this scenario-
I know everybody already played Amnesia card a million times!
But hear me out, MK and Wukong going through his old stuff and he chooses to get into some old Journeys clothes just two check whether they fit or not and mk bumps into an artifact and thinking quickly he unintentionally kicks it to Monkey king but obviously Monkey King was distracted by his old clothes and afterward bam! Amnesia time! several days past whatever blah he's still " cursed" but in reality he's Faking It. he was restored a month ago, he definitely does feels bad for stressing the youngster his friends but he believes this is his only opportunity to be this near to macaque again, without yelling or fighting. and the only other person who knows he's Faking It is Sandy, yeah, he doesn't say anything until he and Monkey King are alone.
Cute/ sad /head Cannon/ scenario
What do you think? something he totally would do right?! LMAO😆✨
He's so cute and sad to think about sometimes💕✨
#monkie kid#lego monkie kid#lmk#sun wukong#six eared macaque#doodle#monkey king#macaque#scenarios#head cannon#I love making monky king the weirdo in the relationship💕#shadowpeach#mini scenario
7K notes
·
View notes
Note
HELLO AGAINNN
Tis i, Lyne- No im not Lyney but ✨anon lol here to give you more ideas ✨
Fucking Cyno in the desert, in an eremite tent at a eremite camp you both had just cleared out a few minutes ago, just, literally fucking him and covering his mouth to muffle his sounds so it wont attract any other monsters. Him begging for you to go faster because he's so close to cumming <3
Sadly, that is all i have for today, have a good day and i love ya!
-✨anon
(Yes i have now claimed the title of ✨anon and theres nothing you could do abt it sorry <3)
"in an open match, 【 ✨ 】 has invited CYNO to play . . .
it's fucking in-tents
✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!cyno, PIV sex, covering his mouth, semi-public (no getting caught), praise, dirty talk, creaming & creampie, post-coitus puns .
A/N : this fic is an apology for the spam of my new masterlists ,, i am so so sorry ><
"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."
He's so hard.
Cyno's so fucking hard, and it's all for you.
He can't help but whine, loud and stark in the stilling desert. It's still now, cleared from eremites; but in the distance, you both know another camp awaits. Even closer, there's hilichurls.
You're tempted, too, to fuck him in a hilichurl's outpost—maybe even a watchtower, his body bared to the sky and the sands of the desert.
(You wouldn't, of course. You're far too possessive of that which is yours.
But it doesn't hurt to tease at the idea, is all.)
"Quiet, baby," you murmur, slowing down your thrusts 'til they drag at a tent tortoise's pace. His cunt squeezes around you in reply.
"We don't want some hilichurls to hear us, do you, Cy? " He shakes his head vehemently, leaning down to press his forehead into the soft—albeit rather sandy—blanket that the eremites had left behind.
This is their home, after all; the home—the camp—that strangers slept in only hours ago, now used to fuck the General Mahamatra in.
How ironic. You think, though, that the eremites wouldn't really mind. (Hopefully.)
"'m—" he cries, cut off by the nudge of your cockhead right against the overly sensitive bump of his g-spot, soft and spongy n' deep inside his pretty lil' cunt.
You coo in reply, pressed right into his blushing ear "What, sweet thing? You're doing so good for me." You wrap your hands around his middle, palms against his rippling abdomen and teasing at the happy trail that dips to his cock.
"I—I think 'm close," he mumbles, moans; grumbles, groans. Cyno arches so prettily beneath you, and you're quick to follow the curve of his back, pressing front to back to him as you are. Small lil' mewls spill out of him, each sound beautiful to your ears—yet so, too, could they be to a monster's.
So, with a gentle grind and a rather sudden halt in your thrusts, you slide the hand you had kept wrapped around his stomach—the one not resting above his mons, keeping him perfectly in place for you—up to his throat, past his jaw, right to his lips.
Cyno positively whines when your hand clasps—snug but not tight, not rough at all—across his mouth. He huffs hotly into your palm, but he's muffled, then, when he cries out again at the next thrust of your hips.
"Keep quiet for me," you groan—muted, of course, because you are not a hypocrite. The sound of your heavy breaths, of Cyno's quiet moans: they won't carry out into the desert, beyond the hanging fabric of the eremite's tent.
This time, he nods, all shaky n' weak. His cunt clenches tight around you, wet and slick and delicious on your cock. It is divine, even with sand itching at both of your legs.
You tell him such. "God, Cyno," you say, groaning low into his sensitive ear. "You feel perfect, all f'r me.
"I almost—" you pause, a satisfied moan of your own crawling from your chest. "I almost wish they stayed to watch. It'd give me a chance to show 'em how pretty you are, yeah? The fearsome General Mahamatra, whimpering and cumming all over my cock."
True to your word, he whimpers. You grin. "That's right, baby. They'd wanna join in, too—I wouldn't let them, of course. You're all mine, aren't'cha?"
"Mhm! Mhm!" His frantic nods almost dislodge your hand, forces you to hold his face a bit tighter. He moans, tonguing at the minute gap of your fingers.
"Easy, sweetheart, easy," you murmur, pulling him closer to you, pulling him closer to your cock. "Still close?" He keeps nodding. "Good, good. Cum whenever you wanna, Cy; cum whenever you want."
He holds you true to that promise, moaning and licking sloppy-like across your fingers in a desperate bid to ground himself, to keep him quiet in the orgasm running through his veins. His cunt creams around you, a milky-white at the base of your cock drip-dripping to the blankets below—just the way you wanted.
"God—" you groan, splaying your hand across his navel, away from his cock, "Just—just a lil' while longer, baby. Look at you, creaming all over yourself. Gonna be leavin' them eremites a pretty surprise, hm? Comin' back h-home, proof of us here, our claim here, my claim on you—" And just like that, you tumble over your own edge.
Cyno makes a weak sound—halfway between a mewl and a whine and a whimper all the same—, cunt milking you in gentle undulations. You fill him right on up, right to the brim, sticky cum spilling out between his hole and your cock.
It's so, so beautiful; the contrast of his dark skin against the opaque white of his and your cum both is absolutely tantalizing.
With a huff, you drop your hand covering his mouth to the mess on the blanket. He coughs, once, licking at his lips when you capture the cum on your fingertips.
"We made a mess," you mumble, the stuff sticky between your fingers; you then take hold of his hips with both hands, dragging yourself out of his cunt. He flops to the blanket and immediately leaks, just slightly but enough—enough to dribble to the blanket. "Not so hot, now."
Breathless, Cyno laughs. "Nah," he mumbles, rolling to his back and smiling up at you—God, he's so pretty. He's all bright scarlet eyes and ruddy cheeks, and you simply can't resist finger-brushing though his tangled hair. Then, rather suddenly, he sits up, alarm in his eyes. "Hey."
You raise a brow. "What's—" he reaches up to cover your mouth.
"Did you have a license?"
"What?"
At your confusion, he only grins. "A license to cum in me. A spermit."
High off your orgasm—floating in post-coitus bliss—, you laugh. You fucking laugh, and you know you're encouraging him; but you find you don't really mind—not when you so adore this little dork of yours.
And when he giggles beneath you, too, you're taken by him even more, his antics and all. This Cyno is your Cyno, even if you're not at your home.
(He'll insist you bring the blanket; he will claim, as you're hauling it back with the satchel full of contraband, of those knowledge capsules you've come to detest, that this is your first walk as a family.
You, no longer post-coitus, will wallop him for it.)
i went through several websites for cum-related puns . . . i cannot do him any justice. he's so funny, unironically (not in this fic but. in the game !) i hope hope hope this fulfills ur imagination, anon !!
20 FEB. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .
#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#【 ✨ 】#the title is another pun . i apologize .#(in-tents . . . intense . . .)#sub cyno#cyno x reader#sub genshin#genshin x reader#top reader#amab reader#dom reader#genshin smut#trans smut#yeah . .
500 notes
·
View notes
Text
✨I’ve Got You, Baby Girl✨
A/N: This has been on my mind a lot this week after a rough week of cramps. This one is for all my girlies that need some extra love and care on their periods. Thank you @mountainsandmayhem and @littlevenicebitch69 for encouraging me to write it 🥰
Summary: After suffering all day alone with cramps, Joel comes home from work to take care of you and gives you exactly what you need.
Pairing: Joel x fem! reader
Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)
Word Count: 1.7k
Tags: Joel comforts you, oral receiving (fem), orgasm, Joel goes down on you on your period, sweet pet names, Joel in love
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
The warm sun glows through the sheer curtains, the velvet blanket draped loosely over your legs as you hug the heating pad to your stomach. Your body aches, your bones crushing together as you hug your knees to your chest. You hate this time of month, hate the awful cramps, hate having to stay in bed all day. It was the worst time of every month. Your period.
You can feel Joel walk into the room, his large presence hovering through the door as you feel immediate relief that he’s home from work early.
“Baby, you doin’ okay? I got worried when you told me you called into work. Can I get you anything?” he asks softly as he walks over to you with his leather work boots scuffing against the hardwood floor.
“Can you get me some water, please?” you ask pathetically as another painful cramp takes over all your senses.
“‘Course, sweetheart. Be right back.”
As he leaves the room, you roll over and pull the blanket off you as your velvet pink shorts barely graze your thighs. Maybe a little water and some air on your sweat covered skin would do you some good.
When he enters back into the room, he comes and sits on the edge of the bed as he hands you a glass of cold water. “Here ya go, sweetheart. Maybe this will help some.”
Your fingers graze his calloused fingers lightly and you smile sweetly as you take the cup and take some sips of refreshing water.
“There ya go, sweetheart,” he coos as he runs his fingers through your messy hair, the feel of his hand instantly soothing you as you relax into his soft touch.
“You’re always so good to me, Joel,” you smile as you set the glass on the edge of the mahogany nightstand and slowly turn to look at his beautiful face. His honey colored eyes staring down at you with nothing but affection as a crooked smile fills his face. He’s always so beautiful, even after a long day at his contracting job.
“Gotta take care of my best girl, don’t I? There’s nothin’ more I wanna do than make sure you’re bein’ taken care of. My perfect girl,” he says sweetly as he runs his thick fingers slowly over your cheek, caressing you in nothing but full affection. He always did know how to completely melt your heart. And he did, every single day.
“How’d I get so lucky?” you sigh as you run your fingers through his salt-and-pepper scruff and stare into warm, brown doe eyes.
“No, how’d I get so lucky is the question,” he chuckles as he rubs the back of your head softly as his other hand skates gently down your arm.
A painful cramp twinges in your gut, and you whine out in pain as you clamp down on Joel’s wrist, your long nails digging into his tanned skin as you call out his name in a plea.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here, baby girl. I’ve got you,” he says as he pulls a strand of hair across your glistening forehead behind your ear and soothes you with a soft kiss against your cheek. “What do you need, pretty girl?”
“I… I don’t know. Just want you here is all,” you mumble as you reach for him, another cramp making you bite your lip as you swallow down the agonizing pain.
“Mmm. I know what you need, baby. I can make those cramps go away.”
“How?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing together as he gets up from the bed and heads to the bathroom.
“Just trust me, okay?” he asks as he comes back with a sandy colored towel, laying it out across the end of the bed.
“Joel,” you warn, your eyes sinking to the soft towel at your feet. You know what he’s planning now, and it makes your insides churn with both embarrassment and pure desire.
“C’mon, baby. I know how to soothe those cramps. This is what you need, even if you’re afraid of askin’ for it out loud. I know, sweetheart. I always know,” he smiles as the crow’s feet pull at the edges of his honey eyes. He’s always so handsome.
“But… but I’m bleeding. I’m not… I’m not…”
“You’re not what, baby? C’mon. You think a little blood bothers me?” he asks with one eyebrow cocked up, a smirk playing on his lips as his brown eyes stare down at you affectionately.
“Oh, I don’t know. Most guys don’t want…”
“I’m not most guys, sweetheart. Now c’mere. Let me take care of those cramps.”
He slides you down to the end of the bed and settles you right over the towel as your legs hang off the bed, your eyebrows knitting together as you close your eyes and cringe for what he’ll see under the short shorts.
“Hey. Open your eyes for me. You don’t have to be nervous, sweetheart. It’s just your period. You’re still as beautiful as ever. Don’t gotta hide from me, sweet girl,” he purrs as you open your eyes and stare wide-eyed at him. He’s so soft, so caring. You just love him so much.
You let him pull your shorts off, your lacy underwear coming off next as you lie bare before him with your heart beating a thousand miles an hour in your chest. He doesn’t shy away, doesn’t cringe as he takes in all your body, your legs shaking slightly as you hold your breath and watch the way he lovingly looks at you.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” he asks as he pulls you forward and hooks your legs around his broad back as he gets on his knees and slowly glides his calloused fingers against your inner thighs.
“You make me feel beautiful, Joel,” you say in awe as he gently blows over your center, his nose softly grazing your curls as he hovers his lips right above your folds.
You tense your legs up around him, and he pushes down slightly on your lower stomach to calm you down. “Hey, relax. Let me make you feel better, okay?” he asks with gentle words, his husky voice echoing off the glowing walls as you nod your head in reply.
“Okay,” you agree.
“You ready?” he asks before his lips drop down on you.
“Mhm,” you hum as you try to relax your weight against him.
“Tell me to stop and I will. Just relax, breathe. Let me take those cramps away,” he coos. And then his mouth sinks down against you.
His tongue gently slides up and down your folds, his calloused fingers spreading you as he finds his way to your clit and swirls slowly as you feel your cramps already easing from his soft tongue on your most sensitive part of your body.
“Oh,” you moan as you twist your fingers through his tousled curls and catch him groan against the feel of you.
“There ya go, baby. Just relax. Let it all out. I’ve got you,” he coos before he dives back down and sucks your throbbing bundle of nerves into his needy mouth.
Your body writhes against him as he holds one hand down softly against the base of your stomach, the other holding your thigh down as he laps a thick strip from your dripping hole all the way to the top of your clit, dragging a tinge of blood down his throat as he drinks you down.
It’s almost an animalistic sight of him lapping you down on your period, but it’s also so fucking hot. No other man that you know would do this for you, but Joel does. He’d do absolutely anything for you. And this was one way of him showing you just that.
You feel your insides clench up as he draws slow circles over your clit, a burning feeling caking your insides as you feel your orgasm about to break. You’re already so close, his experienced tongue always making you feel so good.
“Joel,” you whine as you clench your legs around him and fist your fingers through his messy curls.
“C’mon, sweetheart. Come for me. It’s okay. Go on. Wanna make all those cramps disappear,” he murmurs as he pulls your glistening clit back into his mouth.
You feel the pressure building in your spine, feel the tingling sensations slide down your body as white hot heat starts to spill down your insides. Three more meticulous licks to your clit and you’re done for.
“Joelll, I’m coming,” you moan as you clench up over nothing and feel hot liquid pool down your thighs, your cramps no more as you ride out your blissful high of a sweet orgasm.
“There ya go. Such a good girl,” he praises as he laps up every single drop of slick between your thighs, your heart tearing at the seams as you stare lovingly down at the man that just gave you your sweet release that you so desperately needed.
You see the shine of your slick against the scruff of his beard as he gently cleans off your inner thighs and messy pussy, making sure to be thorough with his hands. He slides your underwear and shorts back on and drops the towel to the floor in a heap as he scoops you into his strong arms, bringing you back to the head of the bed as he holds you tight against his broad chest.
“You feel any better?” he asks as he kisses you gently against your cheek as his fingers run softly through your hair.
“Much better,” you smile as you place your hand on top of his and curl your fingers around his.
“Good. I love you, baby,” he purrs into the shell of your ear as you turn and lock your lips against his, letting the warmth from his plush lips fill you with nothing but peace and longing.
When you break the kiss, you whisper back to him, “And I love you, Joel Miller.”
He kisses your forehead softly and pulls you back against his warm chest. “Go to sleep, baby girl. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
You close your eyes and let the warmth from his tanned skin flood your senses. This is home. He is home, and you never want to be anywhere else but in his loving arms.
Tags: @keylimebeag @msjarvis @princesatracionera @rav3n-pascal22 @syd-djarin @lotusbxtch @laurrrra @sheepdogchick3 @casa-boiardi @pedrostories @whitewolfstar01
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel x female reader#joel the last of us#tlou fanfiction#joel tlou#joel miller pedro pascal#soft!joel miller#soft joel miller#protective joel#period cramps#no outbreak au#no outbreak!joel miller#comfort joel#joel miller one shot#i need this man so bad
262 notes
·
View notes
Text
miss taken.
↳ you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience.
◇ jungkook x reader
◇ fluff | smut | teacher!au | single parent!au | e2l
◇ 20.3k [1/1]
❛❛ our kids are bitter rivals and the only time we ever meet is when we’re both called to the principal’s office and whatever maybe i think you’re kind of cute but your kid’s a monster and ALSO someone keeps buying the last everything bagel at my favorite coffee shop 2 minutes before i get there in the morning and has heard about my plight and has started leaving me bragging notes about it ❜❜
notes: fic number two in the serendipity series is here at last!!! this took me like a million and a half years to finish because Real Life happened but here we finally are! also, i changed the type of bagel that the story is centered around, because i honestly didn’t come to like everything bagels until relatively recently and i will still only eat it if it’s part of a bagel sandwich because? just having cream cheese or whatever on an everything bagel feels kind of unhinged to me! but that’s neither here nor there and no one is here for my bagel opinions so! hope you enjoy the story!!! 💕
⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.
warnings: dilf!jk, some kissing and hand stuff, ✨sexual tension✨ but nothing too terribly explicit tbh
Silence has never sounded louder.
You drum your fingers against the armrest of your chair, nails clacking against the cheap plastic. On the wall, the second hand of the clock completes yet another revolution, and you glance over when your companion sighs, plucks off her reading glasses, and sets them down on the desk beside the placard that houses her title: Principal Pamela Baker, Hybe Academy.
A woman nearing her fifties, Pam has sandy blonde hair cut into a neat bob and an enviable ability to pull off any lipstick color, no matter how bold. You’re lucky enough to call her both a friend and a mentor, and when she mutters a curse under her breath, you chuckle. “Late again,” she huffs, offering you a wry smile before leaning back in her seat and casting her gaze skyward. “Typical.”
“You know what these corporate types are like, Pam,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “They have zero regard for anyone else’s time. He was twenty minutes late to our parent-teacher conference last semester, so don’t take it personally.”
“Believe me, I know plenty of men like Jungkook Jeon,” Pam says with another sigh, this one heavier and longer than the last. “I even married one, you know. But that was before I came to my senses and divorced his ass. Best decision of my life, right after getting my tubes tied.”
“Three kids was enough for you?” you tease, and Pam snorts out a laugh.
“More than enough,” she replies. “What about you, though? Thinking of having another kid anytime soon?”
“I don’t think so… well, not anytime soon, at least. Ask me again in—”
The sound of a doorknob turning stops you in your tracks, and a moment later, the door to the office swings open with a dull click.
“Principal Baker. Miss {L/N}.” Jungkook Jeon is standing at the threshold in a wool coat the color of charcoal, the buttons of which are undone to reveal the undoubtedly designer suit underneath. His dark hair is parted neatly across his forehead, still sprinkled with lingering snowflakes from his journey here, and you bite back the urge to remark on his tardiness. Instead, you stand when your boss stands up, mustering up every ounce of professionalism you possibly can.
“Mr. Jeon,” Pam says, giving his hand a firm shake before gesturing to the empty chair beside you. “It’s nice to see you again. Please, take a seat.”
You incline your head in Jungkook’s direction as he lowers himself into the plastic chair, the legs scraping against the tiled floor in protest as he adjusts his position. “Hello, Mr. Jeon. Thank you for finally joining us.”
If Jungkook notices the snarky inflection of your tone, he doesn’t let it show. He merely levels you with a cool gaze, blinking lazily before turning to your boss. “Excuse my tardiness,” he says, smoothing down the lapels of his black jacket and straightening his slate blue tie. “I got here as fast as I could. Where is my daughter?”
Pam gestures toward the door. “Daeun is down the hall in the library, under Mr. Kim’s supervision. I thought it best if we spoke without the children first.”
The dark-haired man hums. “What happened, Principal? You were rather vague on the phone.”
Pam nods, and you exchange looks before she turns her attention back to Jungkook. “Yes, well, as I explained on the phone, there was an incident. Daeun forcefully took her classmate’s book during the free reading period, and refused to return it when asked.”
At that, Jungkook casts you another glance. “I see. And I presume the classmate was Miss {L/N}’s daughter?”
“It was,” you confirm, taking care to keep your tone even despite the irritation simmering in your belly. “This is the second time Trixie’s been targeted by your daughter, Mr. Jeon. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”
Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his lips twisting into a displeased frown. “I'm not sure I like what you’re implying, Miss {L/N}.”
The iciness in his voice is unmistakable, but you have fifteen minutes’ worth of annoyance festering in your belly—annoyance that has amplified with every second that he made you wait. That, combined with his behavior last semester is enough to stir that annoyance into full-blown anger. He’s been short with you every time you’ve called to talk about his daughter’s progress in class, and you very nearly canceled his eight o’clock appointment to meet with you during December’s parent-teacher conferences. You remember pulling up his contact information nineteen minutes after eight, thumb hovering over the call button on your phone when he finally burst into your classroom. No preamble, and no apology. He just sat down, as if nothing was amiss, and began asking about Daeun’s grades in math.
It’s no wonder you’ve never heard so much as a word about a Mrs. Jeon. The nosy part of your brain wonders about Jungkook’s home life on occasion, and the more vindictive part relishes in the fact that he’s no doubt a single parent. Any woman would have to be a saint to put up with Jungkook Jeon, you reason, because as far as you’re concerned, he’s the devil.
The devil dressed in head-to-toe Armani, who is currently fixing you with a look that could temper steel.
“Mr. Jeon.” Pam, as always, is quick to diffuse the sudden tension that’s settled over her office. “No one is implying anything here. We just want to have a frank, civil discussion about Daeun’s behavior, and see if you can think of anything that may be causing her to act out. A recent change in her life, perhaps? Something new that she hasn’t quite adjusted to yet?”
You take a deep breath, releasing it through your nose before putting your professional mask back on. “Her shift in behavior was extremely sudden,” you chime in, watching out of the corner of your eye as Pam inclines her head in agreement. “Laughing when Trixie and another classmate slipped and fell on the ice, and now this? I don’t believe for a minute that this change came out of nowhere—something must have caused it. Daeun is a smart girl, Mr. Jeon. She’s outgoing and a little rambunctious, but she’s always been kind to her classmates in the past. Today’s behavior was incredibly out of character for her.”
A beat of silence passes, as your words fade into silence. Then Jungkook shifts in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he turns his full attention to you. “We keep talking about Daeun as if she was the only child involved in this incident, Miss {L/N}. Why don’t we talk about your daughter instead? Trixie, is it?”
And just like that, your mask begins to splinter at the edges. “Trixie was reading quietly at the table when Daeun approached her,” you reply coolly. “She didn’t instigate anything, Mr. Jeon.”
“Oh, and I’m supposed to take your word for it?” Jungkook huffs out a humorless chuckle, leaning back in his seat. “I think you, of all people, might be a little bit biased.”
Fury flares in your belly, hot and bright. “I am a professional, Mr. Jeon,” you manage between clenched teeth. “I care about all of my students equally, and treat them as such. But I don’t expect you to understand that.”
Jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but your boss stops him before he can utter a single syllable. “I think that’s enough for today,” Pam says, rising to her feet and stepping around her desk to shake Jungkook’s hand. Even in heels, she only comes up to his chest, and you would have laughed at the height disparity if it weren’t for the rage still bubbling through your veins. “Like I said before, the girls are just down the hall with Mr. Kim. If you’ll follow me…”
Pam ushers Jungkook out of the office, chattering mindlessly about the cafeteria renovations that are underway—funded in large part by Jungkook himself, you’re certain. As much as you’ve grown to dislike the man, you know that he cares deeply about education and donates a rather large sum to your school every year. Trailing after them by a few paces, you listen as Pam points out a row of plaques hanging on the wall, honoring distinguished students and teachers alike.
The library, when you reach it, is empty save for three figures seated at one of several rectangular tables that occupy the middle of the room. Taehyung Kim, the copper-haired librarian, springs out of his seat upon your arrival, and you wave tiredly as he approaches with a warm, affable grin.
“Welcome!” Taehyung says, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses before extending a hand for Jungkook to shake. “You must be Daeun’s dad. I’m Taehyung Kim, the librarian here at Hybe.”
“Jungkook Jeon.” Then Jungkook’s gaze flits past him to where the two children are seated opposite one another. Daeun is a slender, petite girl with dark hair braided neatly down her back and round, brown eyes that are narrowed in concentration as she colors in a picture of a lion. Quietly, Jungkook strides over to his daughter, kneeling down beside her chair until he’s eye-level. “Hey, Daeun,” you hear him murmur. “What happened today, hmm?”
You, meanwhile, join your own daughter at the table, sitting down in the chair Taehyung abandoned and taking in the paper and coloring utensils scattered across the surface “Hey, jitterbug,” you murmur. “Were you nice to Mr. Kim while I was gone?”
“Tae read us a book about butterflies,” Trixie replies, shrugging her little shoulders. “He taught us about migration.”
You chuckle. “Migration, huh? That sounds interesting. You want to tell me all about it on the drive home?”
Trixie nods, her pigtails bobbing in time with the movement. Then she glances over to where Jungkook is instructing Daeun to pack up her backpack, tucking books and notebooks neatly inside while Daeun collects her crayons and puts them into a sparkly little pink case. “Are we going home now?”
“Soon, bug,” you promise. “I just have to finish up with Mr. Jeon and Principal Baker, okay?”
“Okay,” Trixie says agreeably, returning to her drawing. Pam gestures for you to join her and Jungkook near the library doors, and you meet Taehyung’s gaze as you brush past where he’s pulling a few books down for a display. Good luck, he mouths, and you suppress the urge to make a face. Instead, you mouth a quick thanks back, offering Daeun a quick smile as well before joining her father and your boss at the door.
“Mr. Jeon,” Pam says, casting a surreptitious glance toward Daeun and Trixie before lowering her voice. “I don’t think you should ignore this behavior from your daughter. If there’s something in her home life that is making her act out, I can recommend a few counselors who would be more than happy to speak with the two of y—”
Jungkook shakes his head, a lock of dark hair coming loose from whatever gel he’s used to style it. “With all due respect, Principal Baker, I don’t appreciate my parenting abilities being called into question. I think it’s probably best if Daeun and I take our leave.”
Pam sighs. “Mr. Jeon, I don’t mean to offend. But Daeun did take a book out of Trixie’s hands.”
“And I’ll be sure to discipline her for that,” Jungkook replies. “But if this is all over a book, Principal, I think the solution is simple. I can easily buy her whatever book she needs.”
“I’m not so sure it’s about the book itself,” you point out. “Tae—I mean, Mr. Kim—has multiple copies of Charlotte’s Web available for the students.”
Jungkook hums and turns up the collar of his wool coat, pulling it snug around his throat. “Nonetheless, I think we’re done here. Daeun, we’re leaving.”
The six-year-old looks up from the book Taehyung has checked out for her and immediately runs over to grab her father’s extended hand. “Are we going home?” she asks quietly, and he nods.
“Yeah, we are, sweetheart. Come on. Say bye to your teachers.”
Obediently, Daeun waves to you and Taehyung before bidding Pam goodbye as well. Jungkook offers you a stiff nod, and Pam resignedly offers to walk the duo out. They depart together, and you watch as they disappear around the corner of the hall before turning to Taehyung with a heavy sigh. Trixie is still engrossed in her coloring, and you lower your voice as you join Taehyung where he’s begun re-shelving books from a cart of returns.
“Thank god that’s finally over,” you murmur.
Taehyung glances both ways, ensuring the coast is clear. “Yeah. That Jungkook guy is a total wang.”
///
By the time you pull out of Hybe Academy’s parking lot, rush hour has well and truly begun. Silently, you curse Jungkook’s tardiness as you merge onto the main road and almost immediately come to a complete standstill amongst the traffic. Glancing back in the rearview mirror, you take in the sight of your daughter, buckled neatly into the backseat with her face pressed against the window.
“What color are we looking for today, bug?”
“Red,” she replies, her nose scrunching against the glass. Every day, your daughter picks a color and counts the number of cars she sees in that particular shade. She’s taken to keeping a running tally on the refrigerator—working toward the answer to a research question that only she understands. Her work is accompanied by a variety of figures and diagrams as well, which she’s plastered across the remainder of the refrigerator door and are slowly encroaching on the freezer door as well. You’re pretty sure she’ll need a larger surface soon enough—the wall of the hallway leading to the bedrooms would probably suffice—but until then, you have no plans to interfere with her creativity. If anything, you sometimes wish you could see the world through a child’s eyes again—to view every new experience as an adventure, and delight in the simple things. It’s one of the many reasons you love working at Hybe, even if you do have to deal with the occasional entitled parent.
Unwillingly, your mind wanders back to Jungkook Jeon. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, even if you’re reluctant to admit it and refuse outright to say it aloud. He’s blessed with the kind of face that angels could rhapsodize about—his dark, expressive eyes set above a strong nose and an enticing mouth. His jawline is sharp as a knife, and you’re fairly certain the devil himself sculpted his thighs. Even beneath the drape of his expensive suits, you can see the definition of his musculature as clearly as if he wasn’t wearing anything at all. You wonder—more often than you’d like to admit—how his workplace hasn’t deemed his suits obscene. Maybe he needs a dress code, you think to yourself, easing off the brake as the cars in front of you begin to inch forward. Baggy clothes only from this point forward. The more skin covered, the better.
“Oooh! Found one!” Trixie exclaims, tapping the glass vigorously. “And look, there’s another. It’s a darker red, though.”
You hum and nod toward the traffic up ahead, where you can glimpse the corner of a cherry red bumper. “What about that one up there? That makes three, right?”
In the mirror, you see your daughter nod. A few minutes pass, the two of you calling out when another red car is spotted, and traffic eventually eases up enough that you can continue your way home.
“So, what did Mr. Kim teach you about butterflies?” you query as you make a right turn. “Something about migration?”
Trixie nods absently, still fixated on the cars driving by in the opposite lane. “Yeah. They go south for the winter to stay warm.”
You glance at her reflection in the mirror again. “Must be nice.”
“Yeah.”
Up ahead, the light turns green. You hit the gas, debating whether to bring up Daeun or not, but your daughter speaks again before you can dwell on it any further.
“It’s weird,” Trixie says, her face still pressed against the window and her breath misting the glass. “Daeun was never mean to me before. We weren’t friends, not really. But now it feels like she’s picking on me on purpose and I don’t know why.”
Something in your chest splinters at the tone of her voice—subdued and small. She’s dragging a finger through the fogged up glass now, tracing the crooked outline of a butterfly, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking again.
“We’ll figure it out together, then, jitterbug. Now, why don’t you start thinking about what you want for dinner?”
///
Mornings are always a little chaotic in your home. Trixie is sprinting around the entirety of the two-bedroom apartment looking for her favorite scrunchie, a half-eaten piece of toast clutched in one hand and her backpack swinging from the other. In the kitchen, you’re going through a mental checklist of all the places your daughter could have possibly left the accessory while sipping on your morning coffee. The mug nearly slips from your hand when your pet cat, Taco, slinks past your legs on her way to her food bowl, and you hiss out a sharp curse.
“Fuck!” Hot liquid dribbles down your knuckles. The calico cat gives you an unimpressed look, and you glance both ways to make sure Trixie is out of earshot before wagging a reprimanding finger. “Manners, Taco. You’re better than this.”
Taco merely flicks her tail and turns back to her own breakfast, rebelliously batting her water bowl with a paw before settling down to eat. Sighing, you finish the remainder of your coffee and rinse out the mug, listening as Trixie darts in and begins rummaging through the silverware drawer.
“Bug, I don’t think your scrunchie’s in there,” you remark, earning yourself a shrug in response.
“Can’t be too careful,” she says in a startlingly accurate impression of you, and you can’t decide whether to laugh out loud or roll your eyes. Coming up empty, your daughter runs off again, and you return your attention to your bag, rifling through the folders and assignments within. “Aha!” you hear in the distance, and smile. Trixie comes bounding down the hall a few seconds later with a sparkly holographic scrunchie in hand, and you obligingly help her wind it around her ponytail as she wriggles in place with excitement.
“Ready to go?” you ask once finished, and she nods eagerly. “Have all your homework?” Another nod. “What about those books you have to return to Mr. Kim at the library?”
Trixie heaves a dramatic sigh and fixes you with a look. “Yes, Mom. Can we go now?”
You chuckle and extend your hand for her to take, heaving your bag onto your opposite shoulder. “All right, all right. Let’s go.”
Locking the front door, you and Trixie take the elevator down to the ground floor of the building and exit out into the wintry air. Your car is parked on a nearby side street, and immediately, you see that the windshield is coated in a light layer of frost. Sighing inwardly, you head toward the trunk where you store the ice scraper. Trixie releases your hand when you pop open the lid, and you turn to watch as she skips her way down the sidewalk. “Sure you don’t want a ride to school?” you call.
She stops, her nose wrinkling. “It’s lame to go to school with your teacher, Mom.”
You feign offense, slapping a hand to your heart. “Oh? I’m lame now, am I?”
“Don’t take it personal,” Trixie replies, shrugging. “All adults are kinda lame.”
With that, she waves and darts the rest of the way down the sidewalk, making her way to the bus stop at the end of the block. You watch her go, waiting until she safely joins the other half-dozen kids clustered on the corner beside the stop sign, before turning back to your car and climbing into the driver’s seat.
There’s something calming about your morning commute—something about the low hum of the engine and the whir of wheels against asphalt that soothes your soul. The route downtown is a familiar one, and you navigate it with ease. A glance at the clock on the dashboard tells you that you have just enough time to grab some breakfast, and at the next intersection, you opt to turn left instead of right. Three minutes later, you’re pulling up to your favorite coffee shop in the city, snagging one of the few remaining parking spaces on the street and braving the chill one more time as you head for the brightly painted front door beneath the cheery sign that reads, Bean There, Done That!.
The smell of warm cinnamon and vanilla washes over you as soon as you step inside the coffee shop. There’s a relatively short line, and you pull out your phone as you join it, scrolling through news articles and notifications until you reach the counter. “Good morning, Bonnie,” you greet the middle-aged woman working the cash register, before waving at the man who’s already brewing a fresh espresso in the corner. “Morning, Jin.”
“Hiya, {Name},” Jin replies. As the owner of the shop and a dear friend of yours, he knows your usual order like the back of his hand. “Got your coffee going right now.”
Bonnie smiles at you, nodding as Jin plops your finished drink down and joins her at the counter. “Morning, hun. You’re too late again, I’m afraid. Can I get you something else?”
You glance over at the glass display case where all the baked goods are housed, disappointment sinking into your stomach when you see the empty row in the bagel section. “No cinnamon streusel? Again?”
“Some guy beat you to the last one,” Jin answers as Bonnie rings up your coffee and slides it across the counter into your waiting hands. “Same one as last week, actually. He comes here pretty regularly.”
Your eyes narrow. “You mean the same jerk has taken my bagel three times now? How is it that I haven’t run into him yet?”
“I dunno—dude’s an early riser, I guess. You missed him by about ten minutes this time, but sometimes he’s in here even earlier than that.” Jin shrugs and jabs a thumb toward the back where you can just barely see the kitchen through a small window. “We’ve got more bagels going right now though, if you can wait five minutes.”
The time on your phone’s screen tells you that you cannot. “Sorry,” you tell him. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late for school.” Turning, you nod at Bonnie and drop a few bills into the tip jar. “See you both tomorrow.”
“Wait!” Jin pats down his apron pockets and fishes out a crumpled napkin from within. “I almost forgot. The guy—he left a note.”
“He left… what?” You frown. “Why?”
Awkwardly, Jin clears his throat. “I, uh, may have let it slip that he kept beating you to the last cinnamon streusel bagel on Friday. And then he asked if he could leave you a note, so….” Uncrumpling the napkin, he extends it toward you. “Here.”
You can’t help it—curiosity roots in your belly and winds its way to your fingers as you carefully accept the note and smooth it out on the countertop.
Better luck next time ;)
“That prick.”
Jin winces. “Yeah, I know. I mean, he does always leave a twenty in the tip jar, but yeah, totally. I’m with you. Guy’s a wang.”
You’re barely listening. Scowling, you fumble for the pen in your purse, taking the napkin that Bonnie wordlessly hands you and scribbling out your own note so fiercely you nearly rip through the papery material.
Game on, mister.
///
The rest of the week seems to drag by, until Friday arrives at long last and shepherds with it stormy gray clouds on the horizon. You’re already feeling rather grumpy—no doubt thanks in part to the collection of snarky napkin notes you’ve accumulated over the past few days—and the sun’s absence only serves to exacerbate your foul mood. Even worse, you had an unfortunate run-in with one Mr. Jungkook Jeon yesterday, meeting with him in the principal’s office following an incident where Daeun took and hid Trixie’s favorite holographic scrunchie. Thankfully, it was recovered quickly, but even now the mere thought of Jungkook Jeon’s stupid, condescending face is enough to tank your mood. Scowling, you lock your car and head in the direction of Bean There, Done That!, carefully eyeing every person who exits in an effort to discern whether they might have purchased a cinnamon streusel bagel and hoping that none of them have snagged the last.
You’re running a full forty-five minutes early today—all in an attempt to beat the damned bagel thief. Half an hour hadn’t been enough—you found that out the hard way yesterday, when Bonnie had greeted you with an apologetic smile and Jin had wordlessly doubled the usual shot of espresso in your coffee without charge. Looking back, your initial attempts to be a mere fifteen minutes earlier were feeble at worst and laughable at best. But today, you think, today will be different.
The bell over the door jingles pleasantly when you step inside the coffee shop, and you immediately deflate when Jin catches your eye and shakes his head. He’s there to greet you when you finally reach the front of the line, and you sigh as you accept the folded napkin he hands over. “He beat me? Again? Does this guy not sleep?”
“He was super early today,” Jin replies with a shrug. Groaning, you unfold the note and smooth it out on the counter, sucking in a breath when you read the words scrawled there.
What’s that saying again? Something about the early bird always getting the worm? ;)
“That fucking asshole,” you grit out. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“Testy,” Jin says, clicking his tongue. “What’s got your panties in a bunch today?”
You sigh. “School stuff, mostly. I had to meet with the father of one of my students yesterday, and he’s a real piece of work. And then I was up late grading homework.”
“You could always assign less,” Jin offers up unhelpfully, which earns him a snort and an eye-roll from you. Relenting, he instead begins pouring your coffee, chattering on as the hot liquid splashes into your cup. “So, about this guy’s impending doom. How exactly do you plan on murdering a man when you don’t even know what he looks like?”
“Stop being logical,” you groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Just then, the coffee shop door flies open, letting in a gust of chilly wind. You turn to see Bonnie bustling inside, wearing a bright pink woolen hat and ushering along her eleven-year old son, Caleb. “Hi, hun,” she greets you, her nose scrunching when she sees your frown. “I take it you still haven’t found your mystery bagel man?”
You heave a sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t think I can get DNA off of his notes, so no. I have no idea who this guy is, which means I have no way of tracking him down and giving him a piece of my mind.”
Bonnie tuts sympathetically and pats your arm. “Sorry, hun.” Giving your elbow an affectionate squeeze, she slips past the counter and into the back room to grab her paycheck. Jin finishes up with your drink, and you thank him as you take a long sip. Then you turn to Bonnie’s son, who’s taken a seat in a nearby booth and is doodling on a piece of scrap paper.
“Hey, Caleb. How’s it going?”
The boy, normally quite talkative, just shrugs. Taken aback, you decide not to press the issue and instead turn back to Jin, who’s wiping down the espresso machine and whistling something that sounds vaguely like “Never Gonna Give You Up” under his breath. Bonnie returns then, and you give her a quizzical glance as she pours herself a to-go cup of coffee and adds two generous pumps of caramel syrup. Is something up with Caleb? you mouth, and watch as confusion flits across her face before realization dawns.
“Don’t worry about him,” she whispers, approaching you so you can hear. “He’s just a little bummed from yesterday. Misspelled ‘serendipity’ in the school spelling bee, and it cost him the win in the end.”
You wince. “Ouch. That hurts.”
“Yeah, that sucks real hard,” Jin chimes in from his spot at the espresso machine. “Little guy didn’t even try to steal a cookie from the display like he normally does.”
Bonnie chuckles. “I’ll grab a couple to-go, then—a double chocolate and a snickerdoodle, if you please. But then we’ve really got to head out. School starts in twenty.”
At the reminder, you pull out your phone and glance at the time. “Yeah, I need to leave soon too. Give my best to Caleb, okay? There’s always next year’s spelling bee.” Turning to Jin, you hand over your credit card to pay for the coffee before grabbing a pen and a napkin. It takes you a few seconds to figure out what you want to write, and then another few to scrawl out the note:
Don’t forget, the tortoise always beats the hare in the end.
Straightening up, you hand the napkin over to Jin, who accepts it wordlessly and tucks it into his pocket. And once he’s handed your card back to you, you wave goodbye to both Jin and Bonnie before heading out.
It’s typically a five-minute drive to Hybe Academy from the coffee shop, but this morning, it takes you almost ten. Every red light in the city has seemingly teamed up in order to make you late, and you make it through the door of your classroom with mere minutes to spare. Thankfully, the first bell hasn’t rung yet, and to your surprise, Taehyung is still lounging in your desk chair when you enter the room. The two of you have a longstanding tradition of having breakfast together in the mornings—even if breakfast just turns out to be two extra-large cups of coffee with anywhere between zero and four shots of espresso added in. Taehyung occasionally brings in some of his kitchen experiments as well, and you’ve had to politely decline his offer to share on more than one occasion.
“Hey, there you are!” Taehyung grins and props his feet up onto your desk, crossing one leg over the other. “I was just about to leave.”
“Really? It looks like you’ve made yourself pretty comfortable,” you reply, dropping your bag onto the floor and collapsing into the chair he’s pulled up beside him. “Must be nice, not having to worry about being on time for first period.”
Taehyung nestles deeper into the back of your chair and lets his eyes drift shut. “Sure is.”
You snort and take a sip of your coffee. “Jerk.”
“I’m rubber, you’re glue,” he replies without missing a beat, his eyes remaining staunchly shut.
Shaking your head, you instead direct your attention to the tupperware container that’s sitting on the desk in front of your friend. You can see what looks like some kind of pastry inside, and prod curiously at it before poking Taehyung in the shoulder. “So, what’s this? Don’t tell me you tried to make croque monsieurs again.”
“Excuse you, those weren’t even that bad,” he defends, his eyes flying open. “And no, I didn’t. I made quiche this time.”
“Right,” you say suspiciously. “And what’s in it?”
“Bacon, cheese, onions,” Taehyung lists with a shrug. “Oh, and a few baby carrots I had on hand. I didn’t really know what else to do with them.”
It’s far from the strangest combination your friend has come up with—a sentiment you voice aloud as you pry open the edge of the container and accept the fork he hands over. “This feels shockingly normal.” Cautiously, you dig into an edge and bring it to eye level so you can examine the filling. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
“I’m going to start force feeding you if you don’t stop teasing,” Taehyung threatens, grabbing a fork for himself and helping himself to a generous bite. “Seriously, give it a try—I promise it’s good. I didn’t even drop any eggshells in it this time.”
Laughing, you bring the quiche to your mouth. The pastry is flaky and the filling is smooth, and you’re pleasantly surprised by the harmonious balance of seasonings that you taste. Taehyung watches in satisfaction as you go in for a bigger piece, and pushes the tupperware closer when you nearly drop it.
“Told you it was good,” he says smugly, and you can only nod your agreement and raise your coffee in silent commendation.
The two of you eat in silence for a few moments—until you remember the napkin shoved in your pocket and pull it out with a grimace. You’ve ranted to Taehyung about your new nemesis on more than one occasion by this point, and he doesn’t even blink as he flattens out the material and scans the words scrawled there. “I’ve gotta say, the guy’s got good handwriting,” he remarks, and you immediately fix him with a scowl.
“Really? You’ve got to say that?”
Taehyung holds up his hands innocently. “Just an observation,” he says. “How many of these notes do you even have now? Three?”
“Five,” you grumble. “And I’m still no closer to figuring out who he is. I don’t suppose you have access to a police database or anything, right? Some way to match this guy’s handwriting?”
“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” is Taehyung’s blasé reply. “Besides, it’s not like you’re going to do anything, even if you do figure out who he is. You’ll just keep stewing until something else comes along, so why even bother with the manhunt in the first place?”
You sniff. “I’m raising Trixie to be a strong, determined woman who can accomplish anything she sets her mind to. What kind of example would I be setting if I can’t do this one thing?”
Taehyung doesn’t even bother trying to disguise his snort of laughter. “You’re so full of shit. Jesus Christ.”
The bell rings, then—signaling that students have five minutes to make their way to their classrooms. You sigh, and Taehyung wordlessly stands up and begins gathering his tupperware back into his bag, tucking the cutlery in last and grabbing his remaining coffee as he turns toward the door.
“Catch you later,” he says at the threshold, and you wave him off before brushing a few stray crumbs off your desk. Finishing off the last of your coffee, you pull your planner from your bag and absentmindedly shove the napkin note in its place—putting away any and all thoughts of your bagel nemesis as students slowly begin filtering into your classroom. Trixie briefly catches your eye as she files in with a couple of her friends, and you smile as you rise from your seat and begin outlining the day’s lesson plan on the chalkboard.
There’s no doubt that Fridays are your favorite. Friday afternoons at Hybe Academy are dedicated to the arts, and listening to the soft strains of music coming from the orchestra room and the various solo instruments taking lessons brings you boundless joy. You love seeing the new paintings on the walls the following Monday too, and often stay a while after school lets out on Friday to hang up the pieces produced by your own class.
But this particular Friday—it isn’t going as planned at all.
You’re beginning to think that this morning’s strike from your bagel thief was an omen. Up until two hours ago, it’s just been the usual inconveniences and minor drawbacks—a misplaced pencil here, or a spilled bit of juice there. But now, halfway through the schoolday, you feel like you’re drowning. Your stomach is growling and your hair is in disarray, and it’s all thanks to the fact that you currently have twice the amount of students you normally do occupying your classroom—all of whom are seemingly intent on covering every available surface with splatters of paint.
You can’t blame Miss Kumar, of course. Family emergencies are just that—emergencies. They can’t be predicted or controlled, and when she was called at lunchtime with unexpected news, you understood that she had to leave immediately. In an unfortunate turn of events, none of the Academy’s usual substitute teachers were available, and you soon found yourself haplessly watching on as her first-graders filed into your room with chairs in tow, taking up residence two to a desk alongside your own students.
And even though you’re doing your absolute best to maintain some semblance of order, you know you’ve lost when one of Miss Kumar’s students—Nicholas, you think his name is—upends a little plastic canister of paint onto his desk and splats both hands into it. Blue paint goes flying in every direction, and as he giggles, the other children quickly begin to follow his lead.
“Guys, no, wait—” you try to say, but it’s too late. A fully fledged paint fight has broken out, and you watch in horror as Daeun flings a dollop of yellow paint straight onto Trixie’s Hercules shirt.
If there’s a bright spot in all of this, it’s that Principal Pam Baker works fast. You’d called her mere minutes into the fight breaking out, and she’d done her part by calling the parents of the students you’d named as instigators of the fight. Those who could came in right away, and once you managed to settle everyone down, you brought their kids down to Pam’s office so that she could have a group meeting with both the parents and students alike. The remaining children you took to the library to be watched by Taehyung while you cleaned up your classroom. It’s an absolute disaster zone, and you’ve only just begun spraying down the first desk when the door flies open.
“Most of the children are at the library,” you say without turning around, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of red paint on the corner of the desk with a wet wipe. “If you’re looking for your child, you’d best head over there.”
“Actually, I’m here to speak to you,” a familiar voice says, and dread pools in your stomach as you turn and find yourself face-to-face with none other than Jungkook Jeon, his dark eyes unreadable. On his wrist, just barely concealed beneath the sleeve of his charcoal overcoat, you can see his expensive silver watch glinting in the fluorescent light.
“Mr. Jeon,” you manage once you’ve found your voice again. “How can I help you?”
For a few long seconds, Jungkook remains silent. He steps over the threshold and into your classroom, taking in the paint-splattered walls and the chairs scattered haphazardly about. Then his gaze settles on you, his nose wrinkling slightly as he speaks again.
“It smells in here.”
“It’s the paint,” you answer shortly, stepping over an upended cup of brushes and making your way to the window. Fumbling with the lock, you struggle for a few seconds before finally managing to heave it open, letting in a welcome gust of cool wintry air.
Jungkook watches all of this in silence. Then he hums, faint amusement lacing his voice. “I see that.”
Irritation blooms in your belly at his blasé tone. “What did you want to talk about, Mr. Jeon? If you’re looking for Daeun, I’m afraid she’s down the hall in Principal Baker’s office.”
“I’m well aware of that.” Jungkook takes a step forward, the heels of his sleek black oxfords clicking against the tiled floor. “This is the second time you’ve lost control of your classroom, I believe. And tell me, Miss {L/N}, why has my daughter been sent to the principal’s office two days in a row, now?”
You glance up from where you’ve begun wiping at a spot of hot pink paint on the windowsill. “With all due respect, Mr. Jeon, I think that’s a question that only Daeun can answer.”
“Daeun.” There’s outright laughter in Jungkook’s voice now—but it’s the humorless sort that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. “Right, of course. The blame is always on my daughter, isn’t it? Never any of the others. Never your own.”
For a moment, you can only stare at him. Then, without even fully realizing what you’re doing, you begin walking forward. First one step, and then another—until the tips of your sensible block heels are mere inches from the tips of his oxfords. Emotion is building steadily in your chest—a cocktail of exhaustion and anger topped off with the day’s frustrations—and all of it comes flooding out as you raise your chin and look Jungkook Jeon square in the eye.
“Unlike you, I saw what happened today, Mr. Jeon. Several students were responsible for instigating and perpetuating this fight, and unfortunately, Daeun was one of them. I don’t appreciate you implying that I favor any of my students over others, and I certainly don’t appreciate you questioning my ability as a teacher.” Your chest heaves as you pause to take a breath. “I am a professional, Mr. Jeon. Maybe you don’t think so, but I am. I’ve been teaching for nearly a decade, and I’ve spent almost every day with these children for the past year. You don’t get to come in here and disrespect me in my own classroom. I don’t care how much money you give to this school. I’m not beholden to you or your money, and I’ll thank you to not come in here with unnecessary attitude and finger-pointing.”
Your blood is rushing in your ears by the time your speech comes to an end. Jungkook is silent, staring down his nose at you for three long seconds before he deliberately raises a dark eyebrow. “Are you finished?” he asks.
You shiver as his hot breath fans against your cheeks. “No.” And then, in a surge of stupid, adrenaline-fueled bravery, you add, “I kind of want to cuss you out, to be honest.”
The other eyebrow rises to join the first, as a huff of wry laughter escapes his lips. “Oh?”
You deflate slightly, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. It shouldn’t be so easy for a parent to get a rise out of you, but Jungkook seems to do it so easily—and so often. “I’m not going to,” you murmur.
“No?” Jungkook’s gaze darts down to your lips, then up to your eyes, and then down to your lips again. “That’s rather disappointing.”
Unwittingly, you’ve drifted even closer to him since you first started talking. You can see each fleck of amber in his irises, and could probably count each of his individual eyelashes if you so cared. This close to him, you can see that one of his eyebrows is pierced—his dark hair brushed back just enough to reveal the silvery metal embedded in his skin. You don’t pull away though, and neither does he. If anything, he seems to be willing you closer—his lips parting and his tongue darting out to moisten them.
And then he blinks, and you pull back as if burned. “If… if that’s all, I should really get back to cleaning up,” you stammer, hating the wobble in your voice as you return to your desk and grab a fresh wet wipe. “Principal Baker’s office is down the hall on the left.”
“I remember. I was there yesterday, after all.” The faint amusement has returned to his tone. Straightening his tie, he begins making his way to the exit, only to pause in the doorframe and glance at you once more over his shoulder. “Oh, and Miss {L/N}?”
You look up. “Yes?”
“You should really look in a mirror. It looks like a Smurf exploded on your face.”
///
Saturday brings with it clear blue skies and a sweet, sweet reprieve from the chaos of the week. You’d promised Trixie that you would make ratatouille together over the weekend—just like in the movie—and now you’re making good on that promise as you push a shopping cart around the grocery store with your daughter skipping happily by your side. “Ooh! We need these, right?” she exclaims, pointing at a display of zucchini, and you nod, watching as she carefully selects two and plunks them into the cart.
Together, the two of you finish up in the produce section and head for the aisles that house all the baking goods. Trixie peruses the shelves as you stock up on the essentials—flour, sugar, and a couple boxes of baking soda. Then you grab a package of chocolate chips, laughing when Trixie immediately perks up at the sound of the bag crinkling and whirls around to look at you with wide, eager eyes.
“Can we do chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies?” she asks, clasping her hands in front of her chest.
“I think you’re pushing your luck, young lady,” you tell her, but relent when she selflessly offers to bring the extras to class on Monday to share.
Ten minutes later, you’re heading toward the checkout line when you suddenly realize that you’ve forgotten something. “Tomatoes,” you say aloud, glancing down at Trixie apologetically. “Totally slipped my mind. Let’s go grab some, bug.”
Trixie sighs dramatically, but turns toward the produce section nonetheless. Faster than you can blink, she trots off, leaving you to trail after her with the shopping cart. Maneuvering around a particularly tall display of onions, you pull out your phone to check the grocery list one more time—only to be interrupted by the metallic clang of your shopping cart hitting another. Immediately, you open your mouth to apologize, but stop short when your eyes meet the owner of the other cart.
“O-oh,” you stammer, your head spinning as you try to recover your full vocabulary. “Mr. Jeon. I… I didn’t see you there.”
Jungkook chuckles. “That much I gathered.” Then he nods toward Trixie, who you can just barely see two aisles and a crate of watermelons away. “Doing some shopping, Miss {L/N}?”
You don’t respond. Your brain is in overdrive, struggling to reconcile the Jungkook standing in front of you with the one you’d seen just yesterday in your paint-splattered classroom. His dark hair isn’t parted neatly across his forehead for once—instead, it falls in soft waves around his face. Rather reluctantly, your brain acknowledges that he looks good—irritatingly so. You’ve never seen him in casual clothes before—only neatly pressed suits that cost more than your entire paycheck—and the change is jarring to say the least. His purple sweatshirt is baggy and his black joggers are just tight enough to show off the definition of his thighs, and—
—hang on, is he wearing Birkenstocks?
Trixie, thankfully, comes to the rescue as you gape at Jungkook’s feet for several seconds too long. “Is this enough?” she asks, lugging a plastic bag bulging with at least a dozen heirloom tomatoes. Still a little shellshocked, you look down at her, blinking dumbly before bursting into laughter.
“That’s plenty, bug. In fact, we probably need to put some back, unless you want tomatoes in your cookies too.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Trixie says thoughtfully, pursing her lips. “Or we can make marinara and have spaghetti and meatballs tomorrow!”
Jungkook chooses that moment to huff out a laugh of his own. “Spaghetti and meatballs, huh? Great minds must think alike—Daeun suggested the exact same thing for our dinner tonight. Only thing is, we’re apparently making everything by hand, even the spaghetti. And we’ve never made pasta before, so…” He chuckles. “You can imagine how well that’ll probably go.”
You glance around the nearest visible aisles. “Daeun’s a proper little chef, I see. Is she here with you?”
The dark-haired man gestures toward the back of the grocery store. “I tasked her with grabbing some milk and eggs while I get the onions. She won’t go near them until they’re cooked, so I figured this would be most efficient.”
You grin. “Divide and conquer, huh?”
“Exactly,” Jungkook answers with a surprisingly boyish smile. You note with amusement that his front teeth are more prominent than the rest, just enough to give him the resemblance of a rabbit. Rather unfairly, it somehow manages to work in his favor when put together with the rest of him. Your cheeks warm when you register again just how handsome he truly is, and you quickly suck in a deep breath as you search around for a distraction.
You’re in luck. Daeun rounds the corner of a nearby display of cantaloupes with a wide grin, a gallon jug of milk and a carton of eggs in either hand. Her grin widens when she spots you, and you chuckle as she tries and fails to raise her jug-bearing hand to wave.
“Hi, Miss {L/N}!” she exclaims as she comes to a stop alongside Jungkook’s cart and deposits her goods inside. “What’re you doing here?”
“Dae,” Jungkook chides gently, but you laugh and wave him off.
“Hi, Daeun. I’m doing some shopping with Trixie, just like you are with your dad. Speaking of which—you probably have a lot of cooking to get to.” You return your attention to Jungkook. “I mean, I know we do. Somehow, I was talked into making two types of cookies this weekend, so we should really head out and get started.”
“Wait—hang on a second.” Jungkook speaks again, and maybe it’s your imagination but you think you hear a tinge of desperation in his tone. “I’m actually glad we ran into you today. We were going to do this on Monday but since you’re both here, Daeun has something she’d like to say to Trixie. Isn’t that right, Dae?”
Daeun’s gaze drops to where she’s scuffing her sneakered feet against the tiled linoleum floor. Jungkook reaches down, giving her an encouraging nudge, and she hesitates for a second before looking back up and glancing between you and Trixie. “I’m sorry,” she begins shyly. “I shouldn’t’ve thrown paint at you. Or taken your book.” And when Jungkook nudges her again and lifts an eyebrow, she continues again. “And… I’m sorry for laughing when you fell down on the playground. It wasn’t funny, and I wasn’t being nice. I’m really sorry, Trixie.”
There’s a beat of silence, as Daeun falls silent and looks at your daughter hopefully. You glance between the two girls, then up at Jungkook, who still has a hand on Daeun’s shoulder and seems to be holding his breath. Trixie, for her part, looks to be deep in thought, her face scrunched in contemplation as she taps a finger against her lips. Vaguely, you wonder if you should say something, but decide against it.
And then Trixie beams, toothy and bright. Daeun’s answering smile is still tentative, but it transforms into full-blown giggles when your daughter rushes forward and clasps one of her hands in both of her own. “I forgive you,” she says shortly, giving her hand a shake like a little businesswoman. You and Jungkook watch on as the two girls proceed to skip off, hand-in-hand and singing “Baby Shark”.
“Wow,” you remark, turning back to Jungkook. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. What brought that on?”
Jungkook begins to look rather sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck. “I actually have a bit of a confession to make. Not to mention, I owe you a huge apology. I talked to Dae last night, and… well, you were right. She wasn’t acting out for no reason. She… she was actually jealous of Trixie."
You frown. "What?"
He nods. "Yeah. See, I got promoted at my job a while ago. Right after the holidays, I had to start working longer hours, which of course meant less time at home with her. And I guess all of that took its toll, especially since I had to stop taking her to school every morning.” He sighs. “She didn’t adjust very well to that. I tried my best to make things work, but there’s only so much I can do, you know? Eventually I had to set up a morning carpool with some of the neighbors. And I tried to ease the transition as much as I could, but…” He trails off with another sigh. “Guess I did kind of a shit job there.”
Your mind is reeling at all of this new information, but you manage to find your voice again after a few moments. “You did your best,” you tell him, resisting the sudden urge to reach out and touch his arm. “And you’re still trying. That’s all that matters, you know. You’re trying to make things better. Daeun can sense that, and believe me, it’s paying off.”
Jungkook chuckles. “I think you’re giving me too much credit, but thank you. I’m just glad that Dae has a good school and good teachers. Actually, you’ve always been her favorite, did you know that?”
You didn’t. “Really?”
“Really.”
You aren’t sure what to say after that, so you opt to look around instead. At some point—you aren’t sure when—the two of you must’ve started walking around the grocery store again because all around you are shelves full of bread and baked goods. Mindlessly, you grab a bag of everything bagels and smile when Jungkook follows your lead and drops a bag into his own cart.
A few minutes of meandering later, you find Trixie and Daeun together in the snack aisle, deep in discussion about their favorite candies. The conversation winds down as you and Jungkook approach, and you decide not to comment when Trixie not-so-surreptitiously slips a package of chocolate caramels into your shopping cart.
“We should probably get going,” you say instead, pulling out your phone and glancing at the time. “Gosh, there really aren’t enough hours in the day. You ready, bug?”
“Yep!” Trixie replies cheerily, turning to wave goodbye to Daeun and Jungkook. “Bye, Daeun! Bye, Mr. Jeon!”
“See you Monday, Trixie! You too, Miss {L/N}!” Daeun exclaims. And as you and Jungkook exchange smiles and farewells of your own, you feel lighter than you’ve felt in days, as if an invisible weight has lifted.
///
Like clockwork, Monday morning finds you at the counter of Bean There, Done That! with an apologetic Jin offering you your usual coffee in a size larger than the one you’d paid for. “Again?” you exclaim as you accept the cup and take a generous sip. “I can’t believe this. You opened like, twenty minutes ago.”
The corner of Jin’s mouth twitches. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he produces a full tray of cinnamon streusel bagels from somewhere beneath the counter, picking out the best-looking one before sliding the tray into its spot in the display. “I just wanted to see the look on your face,��� he admits as he slips the bagel into a paper bag and hands it over. “These are fresh—still pretty warm, in fact. Surprised you didn’t smell them when you came in.”
“I did smell them,” you tell him, wagging a finger. “But the blueberry bagels are always kind of overpowering and this whole place tends to smell like vanilla anyway, so excuse me for taking you for your word when you said you were out.”
“You know, a simple ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed,” Jin sniffs. Then he gestures to the stack of napkins next to the cash register and waggles his eyebrows. “Care to leave a snarky note of your own?”
A slow grin spreads across your face as you start fishing in your purse for a pen. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
///
The rest of the day goes smoothly, and you’re pretty sure it’s all thanks to the cinnamon streusel bagel you’d had the time to truly savor this morning. You’d even bought an extra for Taehyung, who for his part contributed a tupperware full of bacon strips and a pitcher of mixed berry smoothie to your breakfast. For lunch you’d made sure to eat a healthy dose of vegetables, and as you head into the final period of the day, you feel more than ready to give a room full of children their next big assignment.
“All right, class,” you say as your students filter into the classroom and start taking their seats. “We’ve been learning about the animal kingdom for the last few weeks, and it’s finally time to put everything we’ve learned so far together. I’m going to go around and hand each of you a card. Take a look at it—you’ll either see a picture of an animal, or the name of an animal.” Grabbing the stack of cards off your desk, you begin distributing them, slowly making your way up and down the rows of desks. “Then, I want you to get up out of your seats and find the card that matches yours. If there’s a picture of a zebra on your card, you want to find the person with ‘zebra’ written on their card. And that person will be your partner for this project. Does that make sense to everyone?”
Nods and exclamations of affirmation all around. Satisfied, you hand out the last of your cards and return to your desk, gesturing for your students to stand up and find their partners. You watch as the children mill around, exclaiming happily when they find their match. Much to your satisfaction, you see that Daisy—a little girl who always has her blond hair corralled into a neat braid—and Josiah—a well-mannered boy with a different-colored polo for each day of the week—just so happen to be partners. You hadn’t planned it that way, but you’ve always gotten the feeling that there was a hint of a little crush there.
Another pleasant surprise comes in the form of Daeun, who’s plopped herself in the seat beside Trixie and is animatedly gesturing at her card. Even from your spot in the front of the classroom, you can read the big block letters that spell out “penguin” and see the corresponding line drawing on Trixie’s card. And as the girls begin to chat, it’s as if the issues of the last few months hadn’t happened at all.
Your class spends the last few hours of the school day in the library, working on their newly assigned project. You’ve set up shop at the table nearest Taehyung’s desk, which you’ve always kind of envied. Perfectly round and situated in the center of the room, it allows for a 360-degree view of the entire library if he so much as spins in his chair. “Honestly, I could get so much done if I had one of these,” you lament to him as you watch Josiah sharpen Daisy’s pencil for her out of the corner of your eye. “I’d set up the best frickin’ assembly line you ever saw.”
“You sound like a workaholic,” Taehyung replies, doing yet another lazy revolution in his seat. “Or a lunatic. Same thing, really.”
Resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you settle for rolling your eyes instead. The final bell of the day rings, and you shepherd your students out of the library with your friend on your heels. As the children disperse to their lockers, you trail after Trixie and Daeun, waiting for the two to say their goodbyes so you and your daughter can walk to the car together. It’s still odd seeing the two getting along so well, but you aren’t about to question it as you and Taehyung follow the girls to their lockers—which happen to be in the same section of the hallway—and then out and into the bright afternoon sun. Smiling, you listen to them chattering excitedly about the project even as Taehyung launches into a tirade about his latest rent increase.
“Seriously, I should just move at this point—it’s fucking ridiculous. I don’t even use the conference center, and the indoor pool is just a waste of space when there’s a public one that’s twice the size three blocks away. And that one even has a hot tub! Not to mention—”
You sigh, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Jeez, Tae, just move. You’ve been threatening to for over a year now, and it’s not like anyone’s forcing you to stay. You don’t even like the neighborhood, for god’s sake. I don’t know why you stuck around for that long.”
Taehyung sniffs. “Moving’s just such a hassle, you know? I really wanted to avoid it, but I guess I can’t this time around. A 22% rent increase… fucking hell. You’ll help me pack, won’t you?”
“I’d rather not.”
“But you’re so good at packing! And you have all that bubble wrap and the box of styrofoam peanuts hoarded in your closet—”
“Stored in my closet.”
“Whatever,” he says dismissively, waving you off. “I’m not here to debate semantics with you.”
“No, you’re here to guilt me into helping you move,” you reply. “What’s up with that, anyway? I thought you swore off of renting U-Hauls for good after last time. You were googling moving companies and getting quotes for weeks.”
“Yeah, I definitely lost that spreadsheet,” Taehyung admits. “Besides, money’s a little tight right now. Every last bit of spare change we have is going toward Jimin’s new pilates studio. We’re saving wherever and whenever we can.”
You nod in understanding at the mention of his fiancé and his new business venture. “How’s all that going, anyhow? I know Jimin’s been super busy—we haven’t been to bar trivia in weeks.”
“Yeah, it’s a whole thing,” Taehyung says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Starting a business is hard—who knew?”
“Who knew, indeed,” you echo. You’re about to say something else, too, but any semblance of coherence flies out of your head when you glance at the girls again and see that they’ve come to a stop. There’s a sleek black Mercedes-Benz idling at the curb, and leaning against it is none other than Jungkook Jeon—dressed in a sharp navy blue ensemble with his hair slicked back and dark sunglasses perched on his nose. It’s impossible to tell whether he’s seen you yet, and it’s all you can do to tear your gaze away before you get caught staring. Turning back instead to Taehyung, you raise a hand in farewell. “Well, it looks like this is my stop.”
“Seems that way,” your friend hums, casting a curious glance at Trixie, who’s enthusiastically greeted Jungkook with a Hi again, Mr. Jeon! and is now giggling with Daeun about how they can see their reflections in his car. “See you tomorrow. Don’t get into too much trouble!”
You roll your eyes at the flagrant wink Taehyung sends your way, surreptitiously flipping him off from behind your tote bag. Then you make your way over to your daughter, who’s still engrossed in conversation. Coming to a stop behind her, you lay a hand on her shoulder, smiling as she looks up and flashes you a big grin. “All righty. You ready to go home, jitterbug?” you ask.
Trixie juts her bottom lip out into a pout. “Can I go to Daeun’s?”
You raise an eyebrow, glancing up at Jungkook, who’s now scrolling through his phone. Then you return your gaze to your daughter, taking in her eager, bright eyes. “I don’t know, bug. Have you asked Mr. Jeon if you can come over?”
Daeun pipes up then, her pigtails bobbing with every word. “He says it’s okay, Miss {L/N}! Since we have a project to work on and all. He even said we can order takeout for dinner!”
Again, you look at Jungkook. His expression is unreadable behind his sunglasses, but when he feels your gaze he glances up, tucking his phone back into his pocket and pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “Dae’s right—I did promise the girls takeout. Sorry to catch you off guard with last-minute plans like this, Miss {L/N}. If you’d like, you’re welcome to join us as well.”
You blink. To say that the invitation has caught you off guard would be a massive understatement, and as your brain races to catch up, you suddenly realize that he’s willing to let you come to his home. You would be in his space—where he lives, eats, sleeps. The thought is simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.
“I—I don’t want to impose,” you finally manage after what feels like an eternity. “I’m sure you’re busy, and I have a lot of homework to grade, and…” You trail off, hesitant, and Jungkook waits a beat before chiming in.
“No imposition at all,” he says, offering you a small smile. “Honest. I’ve spent two of the last three weekends hosting sleepovers for Daeun’s friends, and I’m not convinced I remember what adult company is like anymore.” Then his smile widens—just enough to offer a glimpse of his endearingly prominent front teeth and crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Remind me?”
You aren’t sure if you’re imagining the flirtatious edge in his tone, but you push the thought to the very back of your head and straighten the hem of your blouse before grasping for the phone tucked in your bag. “I… I suppose that would be all right,” you begin hesitantly as you pretend to check for new notifications. “You’re sure it won’t be any trouble?”
“None at all,” Jungkook reassures. “Here, I’ll give you my address for your GPS, but it might be easier if you just follow me. Where are you parked?”
You gesture toward the staff parking lot, which is usually separated from the main lot by a row of neatly manicured hydrangea bushes that bloom in bursts of pink and blue and purple during the spring and summer months. Right now, there are only a few sparse yellow daffodils, pushing up through the dirt and signaling that spring is not far off despite the lingering chill in the air. “I’m about three rows in. I can drive over and meet you here, if that works?”
Trixie chooses that moment to pipe up, instinctively raising her hand like she’s still in class. “Can I ride with Daeun and Mr. Jeon?”
You hesitate, glancing over at Jungkook, who shrugs as if to say fine by me. Turning your attention back to your daughter, you nod and reach down to adjust the glittery pink scrunchie in her hair. “Be good,” you order. “Don’t distract Mr. Jeon while he’s driving, okay?”
“Mmhmm,” Trixie hums, already turning toward the sleek black Benz and tugging on the door handle. “See you there, Mom!”
You wave, watching as the girls climb into the backseat before turning and making your way to your own car. Unlocking the door, you slide into the driver’s seat and take a deep breath. Then, you take another. And a few moments later, you take a third.
Even as you mentally play back the events of the afternoon, you still can’t wrap your head around how it came to this. Here you are, about to drive to Jungkook Jeon’s house. You’ve seen his address in your files, and you know from the street name that he lives downtown, in the part of the city that’s dominated by high-rise buildings and five-star hotels. It’s an area that you don’t visit often, having no reason to unless there’s a particular restaurant that you’re looking to try out—and have the money for. It feels odd inputting his address into your phone’s navigation app, but you do so nonetheless, watching as it calculates the optimal route.
Steeling yourself, you start up the ignition and ease up on the brake. As you pull out of your parking space, you crane your head to see if Jungkook’s car is still where you’d last seen it, which it thankfully is. Slowly, you make your way over to where the Benz is idling, pulling up alongside him and giving him a little wave. Jungkook has donned his sunglasses again, but he lowers them when he sees you and nods in acknowledgment. Ready to go? he mouths, and you nod even though it’s a lie. You aren’t ready. You aren’t sure you ever will be. But Jungkook is already pulling ahead and out of the parking lot, and you’re forced to push aside your intrusive thoughts and follow.
The first stretch of the drive is easy. Jungkook is a measured driver, and you can tell that he’s taking care to turn only when there’s enough room for both of your vehicles. The second stretch, however, proves far more difficult. Now that you’re downtown, there’s an abundance of one-way streets and pedestrians. Traffic lights sit on seemingly every corner, alternating between red, yellow, and green at random, as far as you can tell. You nearly lose Jungkook twice on particularly short green lights, and only narrowly avoid hitting an overeager dog dragging its hapless owner into the crosswalk before the walk sign has changed.
The third time, it finally happens. Dismayed, you watch as Jungkook’s sleek black Benz cruises past a green light, just before it turns yellow for a split second and then flips to red. You’re forced to brake far faster than you’d prefer—way too fast to be safe, for sure—and watch as Jungkook disappears around the Starbucks on the next corner. Muttering out a quiet curse, you drum your fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as you wait for the light to change again. Thankfully, you’re only about two minutes from your destination.
After what feels like an eternity, the light finally turns green. Releasing your foot on the brake, you take the turn that Jungkook had taken, glancing between your phone and the surrounding buildings to identify your destination. There’s a string of restaurants, a pharmacy, and a post office. You cruise past a dentist’s office and a few dry cleaners, and then your phone is directing you to turn right onto a street that boasts a long row of glass-fronted office buildings.
Two blocks later, you’re pulling up to a tall, sleek chrome building. The first floor is occupied by a seafood restaurant and the second and third seem to be a gym, but as you crane your head upward you can see that the floors above that seem to be condominiums. Letting your head fall back against the headrest, you glance down at your phone one more time, confirming that this is indeed your destination. Then you take a long, deep breath before you begin following the little blue signs that claim to lead to a parking garage beneath the building.
To your relief, the garage itself isn’t difficult to find. You take a ticket from the machine as you descend down the concrete ramp, keeping an eye out for any open spots that are designated as guest parking. Seconds pass, and then minutes. Your heart flutters nervously in your chest as you descend deeper into the parking garage, seeking a break in the rows of cars that never comes. You’re seconds away from giving up and turning around, when finally, you see an open spot. It’s a little cramped and it’s right next to a concrete pillar that’s just a little too close for comfort, but you manage to squeeze into the space. Heaving a deep sigh of relief, you turn off the ignition and tuck your keys into your purse, taking a moment to gather yourself before exiting your car and locking it behind you.
That’s when you encounter your next obstacle: figuring out how, exactly, to get out of the parking garage. You can’t find a single sign to guide your way—only a locked dark green door that you assume is some kind of mechanical room. Groaning, you spin in a full circle, taking in your concrete surroundings. Maybe if you just start walking, you’ll find a sign that will point you to the elevators. You’d even consider taking the stairs at this point, no matter how many floors down you are (you’re pretty sure it’s seven or eight).
Just then, your phone begins to buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see Jungkook Jeon (Daeun’s Dad) emblazoned across the screen and immediately swipe to answer. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Jungkook says, obvious relief coloring his tone. “I’m sorry I lost you back there. Where are you now?”
“I’m in the parking garage below your building,” you reply, idly scuffing your foot along the concrete floor. “I’m parked pretty far down, and now I can’t seem to figure out how to get upstairs.”
Jungkook hums thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’ll admit the signage isn’t great down there. Let me see… can you see any doors?”
“Just this green one, but it’s locked.” Reaching out, you try the handle again to double-check. “Other than that, nothing.”
Another hum from the man on the other end of the line. “Okay, walk away from that door. Try and head toward the middle of the garage—that’s where the elevators are. There’s four of them, and they’re in this big concrete circle. Can you see them yet?”
“Maybe?” You can see a break in the rows of cars up ahead, and a rounded concrete wall in the distance. Speeding up, you make your way around the edge and blink as a bank of elevators comes into view. “Oh, wait—yeah! Huh. Weird. I didn’t expect the doors to be orange.”
Jungkook chuckles. “Each floor’s color-coordinated, yeah. Orange means you’re near the bottom, though. Didn’t you see the guest parking on the first floor?”
You blink. “No, I don’t think so. Did I miss something?”
That draws another chuckle from him. “Probably. There’s a row of spaces off to the right as soon as you enter the garage, but it can be pretty easy to miss if you don’t know to look for it. I should’ve given you a heads-up.”
“It’s okay,” you tell him as you enter the elevator and hit the button for the thirty-fourth floor. “I could’ve asked.”
Bidding him farewell and assuring that you’ll see him soon, you hang up and tuck your phone back into your pocket. The elevator ride is relatively short despite how high you’re going, and before you know it you find yourself standing in front of a navy blue door with a polished brass knocker. Raising your hand, you’re about to knock when the door flies open, revealing Daeun and Trixie standing there with identical grins.
“You’re finally here!” your daughter exclaims, bounding forward to take you by the hand and lead you inside. “Mr. Jeon said we had to wait for you to get here. He says he’s gonna give us a grand tour!”
“It’s really not as exciting as they’re making it sound.” Jungkook’s voice comes from around the corner, and the man himself steps into view a moment later. He’s taken off his jacket and removed his tie, leaving him in navy slacks and a crisp white shirt with the first few buttons undone. Your gaze lingers a little too long on this newly exposed sliver of chest, but you forcibly tear your gaze away when Trixie gives your hand a squeeze.
“Come on, Mom! You can see everything from the window. It’s like you’re on top of a mountain!”
Laughing, you follow your daughter deeper into the apartment. She points to the closet off the foyer, where you obligingly hang up your coat next to her periwinkle one. Then she leads you to the far end of the foyer, where it opens into a wide hallway. On the other side of the hall is an archway that leads to a spacious kitchen with white cabinets and polished granite countertops. You take note of the bright yellow bar stools at the kitchen island, chuckling when Daeun loudly declares that she picked them out—and that Jungkook had caved to her despite wanting boring gray ones instead.
As you continue your tour, it becomes abundantly clear that Jungkook has caved to his daughter on multiple occasions. The furniture in the living area is neutral—shades of beige and dark wood that pair well with the polished floorboards and modern floor-to-ceiling windows. But scattered throughout the space are pops of color and quirkiness that you can confidently attribute to Daeun—having graded several of the art pieces that you now see hanging on the wall and adorning the sleek glass coffee table. There’s the lopsided clay vase painted with streaks of hot pink and specks of bright yellow, and there’s the papier-mâché snowman with his jaunty orange hat. You see more and more of Daeun’s influence everywhere you look—the watercolor butterfly paintings on the wall, and the red floral accent chair that you’re sure Jungkook didn’t pick out himself.
“That’s Daddy’s room,” Daeun says, pointing to a nondescript white door beside the bookshelves that flank the flatscreen TV hanging on the wall. Then she points down the hall, past the kitchen where you can see a few more doors. “And that’s my room down there, next to Daddy’s office. Do you want to see?”
You nod. “I can’t wait. Lead the way.”
Cheerfully, Daeun gestures for you to follow after her as she skips toward the door at the very end of the hall. She opens it with a flourish, allowing all of you inside, and as soon as you step past the threshold you’re transported to a fantastical world. Daeun’s bedroom walls are painted to resemble an enchanted forest, complete with delicate fairy lights wrapped around the wooden four-poster bed. A white desk and an accompanying green chair sit in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, the pale pink curtains opened to let sunlight stream in. Along the sill is a collection of stuffed animals, ranging from a tiny butterfly to an elephant that you’re pretty sure is taller than Daeun herself. Opposite the bed is a gallery wall, composed of colorful floral prints and Daeun’s own art—a charming, eclectic mix of animal paintings and landscapes. It’s the kind of bedroom that you would’ve loved as a child, and your daughter is equally taken with it if her awed expression is anything to go by.
“This is so cool!” Trixie runs to the window to peer out at the city below, before twirling in a circle to take in the art on the walls. “I can’t believe you live here. It’s like a magic forest!”
“It’s a beautiful room,” you remark, nodding your agreement. “And all of these drawings are amazing, Daeun. You’re a talented artist.”
Daeun flushes at the compliment, thanking you with a shy smile. Then she and Trixie are off again, speeding down the hallway to look at something else in the apartment. You and Jungkook trail after them slowly, until he opens another door off the hall to reveal his office. It’s smaller than Daeun’s bedroom and far more simplistic in its decor, but it’s a cozy and inviting space nonetheless. One wall is lined with mahogany bookshelves, and a polished wooden desk is pushed against the opposite. A plush burgundy armchair with a matching ottoman sits in the corner beside a tall potted plant, creating the perfect space for reading, and you can tell from the indentation in the seat cushion that it’s been well-loved over the years.
“I’ve definitely been bringing my work home too much lately,” Jungkook admits. “I’ve been cutting back though. Ever since Daeun’s behavioral problems…” He trails off. “Well, you know all about that already. And I do want to apologize for giving you a hard time. It’s just… I guess it’s not all that fun being told that you’re failing as a parent.”
“You’re not failing as a parent,” you reply, laying a hand on his arm before you can think to stop yourself. “You’re doing your best. It’s all we can do, isn’t it? Do everything we possibly can for our children?”
He nods, but he isn’t looking at you. He’s looking down at your hand on his arm, and you blanch inwardly as you quickly pull back and pretend to brush invisible dirt off your skirt. “We should go find the girls,” you murmur. And just like that, the tour is over.
The two of you rejoin the girls in the kitchen, where they’ve begun assembling themselves a snack of peanut butter and crackers. Jungkook slices up an apple and a banana for them to share, and they barely take the time to thank him before disappearing into Daeun’s bedroom to work on their project. You and Jungkook find yourselves alone in the kitchen, and when the silence between you has stretched on for just long enough to be awkward, you decide to speak. “So. I guess I should probably grade some homework while I’m here.”
Jungkook blinks and shakes his head a little, as if coming out of a trance. “Right, of course. I’ve got a few things I need to wrap up myself. Please, make yourself comfortable. You’re free to work in the office, if you’d like.”
Immediately, you shake your head. “Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude.”
He nods, then gestures out toward the dining table, which sits in a little nook between the main living area and kitchen. “Well then, feel free to make use of the table. Or the kitchen island. Or even the couch, if you’d prefer.” He pauses. “Wait, where are my manners? I haven’t even offered you anything to drink! Did you want anything?”
“Oh.” You hesitate. “I’m okay.”
Jungkook begins making his way to the refrigerator, regardless. “Seriously, it’s no trouble. I have coffee, tea, banana milk, and I think there’s probably a carton of apple juice in here too. What do you usually drink when you’re grading?”
“Tea,” you admit. “Any kind. I’m not picky.”
“Tea it is.” Jungkook sets about grabbing two mugs. “Go on, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring it to you.”
For a moment, you wonder if you should ask if he needs help. But he’s already preoccupied with the kettle, his back to you, and you have to force yourself to look away from the way his broad shoulders taper into his slim waist. In an attempt to distract yourself from gawking, you walk back out to the dining table. Pulling out a chair, you settle your bag on the floor beside you and take a seat. And by the time Jungkook comes out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs of tea, you’re already halfway through grading the first math worksheet in your pile.
“Here you go.” Jungkook places a mug by your elbow, and you glance up at him with a grateful smile.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
To your surprise, he takes his mug to the opposite side of the table and sets it down. Then he disappears into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with his laptop in hand. You try not to stare as he sets up shop across from you, a loose lock of dark hair flopping across his forehead as he logs in and begins reading something, his dark eyes flitting across the screen. His piercing in his eyebrow glints in the sunlight streaming in through the nearby window.
Ripping your gaze away, you force yourself to focus on the homework you need to grade. And after a few minutes, you’re fully immersed, thumbing through sheet after sheet and writing down your notes.
Before you even realize it, two hours have passed. You only become aware of how late it’s getting when Jungkook shuts his laptop with a click, stretching his arms overhead and working a few kinks out of his neck. “It’s almost dinnertime,” he remarks, glancing out the window where the sun is steadily dropping closer to the horizon. “Did you have any thoughts about dinner? I can order some pizza or something.”
“Oh, I don’t think—” you begin to protest, but Daeun and Trixie choose that moment to dash in like mini tornadoes, whirling around the dining table.
“We can still order takeout for dinner, right Daddy?” Daeun gazes up at Jungkook with pleading eyes, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “And Trixie and Miss {L/N} can stay if we do, right?”
Trixie looks at you, lower lip already beginning to jut out in a pout. “Please, Mom?”
Jungkook gives you a meaningful glance across the table, and you can only shrug and relent. “Yeah, all right. Since takeout was already promised, we can stay for dinner. But we’re going home after that, okay? It’s a school night.”
The girls burst into cheers. After a brief discussion on what kind of food to order, you all settle on Jungkook’s initial suggestion of pizza. As he puts in the order, you begin tidying up the dining table, clearing it of your graded homework. Daeun points out where the plates are kept, and together, you and the girls set the table for dinner.
“Estimated delivery time is half an hour,” Jungkook says as he tucks his phone back into his pocket and joins you at the dining table. “What should we do while we wait?”
“Let’s play Candyland!” Daeun exclaims.
Trixie gasps. “I love Candyland!”
And just like that, it’s settled. The four of you settle around the coffee table for the game—you and Jungkook making yourselves comfortable on the cream-colored sectional while the girls sprawl out on the shaggy rug on the floor. The pizza arrives just as Trixie reaches Candy Castle, and Jungkook goes to answer the door while she celebrates her victory. Then, the four of you sit down for dinner.
It’s strange, sitting in Jungkook’s undoubtedly expensive apartment and eating pizza. But even more strange is how okay it all feels—natural, even. You aren’t sure when you became so comfortable in his presence, but you aren’t about to question it. You’re grateful for the lack of awkwardness.
An hour later, the last slice of pizza is finished. You volunteer to do the dishes, and Jungkook clears the table while you take up residence at the sink. You’ve tasked Trixie with gathering up her things so you can depart after you’ve finished in the kitchen, and can hear her giggling off in the distance with Daeun. “Thanks for hosting us today,” you murmur to Jungkook.
He chuckles, waving off your gratitude. “It’s no problem, seriously. I had a good time.”
You smile at him before returning to the dishes. Just as you’re putting away the last plate, the girls run back into the kitchen—Trixie with her backpack in tow.
“Can Daeun come to our house next time?” she asks, and you laugh.
“Sure, jitterbug. You’re welcome to come over whenever you’d like, Daeun.”
And with that, you and Trixie say your final goodbyes. You slip back into your shoes and grab your coats from the closet. Jungkook gives you directions for the easiest route out of the parking garage, and you thank him for what feels like the umpteenth time.
You’re barely listening to your daughter’s ramblings as you climb into the driver’s seat and turn on the ignition. All you can think about is Jungkook and this strange, newfound warmth that stirs in your belly whenever he seeps into your thoughts.
///
“You wiped that part of the counter already.”
Trixie’s voice barely registers in your mind, but the washcloth in your hand slows nonetheless. It’s a beautiful Saturday morning with hardly a cloud in the sky, and Jungkook and Daeun are due to arrive any minute. You’ve been cleaning for the past hour, and even though you know you’ve already gone through the kitchen, you can’t help yourself. This is the first time Jungkook will be seeing your humble abode, and you—ostensibly—want to impress.
“Bug, can you set the table?”
Trixie sighs dramatically, but complies nonetheless. Grabbing four plates, she places them down carefully before returning for four glasses. You join her at the table with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, straightening out one of the striped blue placemats as you set it down beside the vase of flowers that serves as a centerpiece.
You’ve just started frying bacon when the doorbell rings. “Got it!” Trixie calls, darting to the door, and you listen as she enthusiastically greets your guests. A few seconds later, Jungkook rounds the corner with both girls, decked out in jeans and a gray cable-knit sweather and carrying a plain white cardboard box in his hands.
Curiously, you tilt your head. “Mysterious box you’ve got there.”
He laughs. “Hello to you too.” Then he puts the box down and pops open the lid. “I brought my favorite bagels—I hope that’s okay. Didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”
You smile at him. “Of course it’s okay. I was just planning on making some toast, but bagels are way be…” You trail off as the bagels in question come into your view.
Perfectly golden, with a dusting of cinnamon sugar and streusel crumbles on top. You’d recognize them anywhere.
“{Name}?” Jungkook sounds concerned. “Are you all right?”
You blink and shake your head, mind still whirring. “Are these from that coffee shop downtown? Bean There, Done That?”
Jungkook nods. “Yeah, have you been?”
You nod. “This… this might sound crazy and I might be way off base. But do you stop there every morning for a bagel?”
Jungkook blinks. Then he blinks again, his lips parting wordlessly. A beat passes, and then another. “Wait,” he finally manages, his voice a croak. “Hang on. Is it… I mean, it can’t be… can it?”
You reach into the drawer next to the stovetop and pull out a wad of pen-stained napkins. “Did you leave me these?”
For a few seconds, it seems like Jungkook can only gape at you. “Holy shit,” he finally breathes, before slapping a hand to his mouth with wide eyes and glancing around to make sure the girls aren’t within earshot. “I was leaving you notes this whole time?”
You can only laugh in disbelief. “You were the one taking my cinnamon streusel bagels?”
“Hey, I wouldn’t have taken them if you’d gotten there earlier,” he teases. Chuckling, he picks up a napkin note and uncrumples it, scanning across the text. “Damn. Small world, huh?”
“The smallest,” you agree, mind reeling from this new development. Still chuckling, Jungkook steps past you to get to the stove, and you belatedly remember that the bacon is still sizzling in the pan as he picks up your tongs and carefully flips each strip.
“I kept your notes too,” he says after a moment. “I shoved both of them in my glovebox.”
You huff. “Both. Yeah, okay, you beat me to the last bagel way more than I beat you. You don’t have to rub it in, Jungkook.”
“Oh, come on.” He grins, toothy and bright, and you’re momentarily distracted by the endearing prominence of his teeth. “I think I have to rub it in a little.”
“Hmph. As long as it’s only a little,” you concede as you join him at the stove with another pan and begin scrambling eggs. Together, the two of you finish making breakfast, piling eggs onto one plate and bacon on another. You grab the bowl of fruit salad you’d prepared last night out of the fridge, and Jungkook grabs the box of bagels and calls for Daeun and Trixie to come eat. Then, he surprises you by sitting beside you, leaving the girls to sit next to each other on the opposite side of the table.
Breakfast is a relaxed affair—even if Taco keeps trying to jump up on the table to steal some bacon. You’ve eaten several meals with Jungkook and Daeun since that first dinner—usually at Jungkook’s apartment, but also once at the food court in your local natural history museum, where you took the girls to see the ocean exhibit’s penguin display. Since this is the final weekend before their group project is due on Monday, you’ve promised to take them to the zoo to see real, live penguins and complete the last of their research. Both girls already have their backpacks packed and ready to go, and you task Jungkook with checking to make sure they have all their notes while you clean up in the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, you’re on your way to the zoo. Jungkook has volunteered to drive, and you can’t help but gape a little as he unlocks his sleek black Mercedes-Benz and opens up the passenger door to reveal cream-colored leather seats and shiny silver hardware. “Wow,” you remark, catching his eye as he walks around to the driver’s side. “This is like the Batmobile or something.”
“Hardly,” he says with a laugh. “I wish I had rocket boosters and ejection seats. That’d be cool as hell.”
“Daddy!” Daeun gasps, scandalized. “That’s a bad word!”
Jungkook has the decency to look properly abashed. “I’ll put a dollar in the swear jar when we get home,” he promises before pretending to zip his mouth shut and throw away the key. Satisfied, Daeun clambers into the backseat with Trixie on her heels, and Jungkook shoots you a conspiratorial little wink as he takes his own seat and starts up the engine.
The drive to the zoo takes only about fifteen minutes. It’s already beginning to get crowded by the time you get there, but Jungkook still manages to find parking with little difficulty. Together, the two of you usher your daughters out of the car, reminding them not to run too far ahead when they immediately make a beeline for the entrance.
After a short wait in line to buy tickets, you finally make your way past the lion statues flanking the front gate. The wide concrete pathway leads to an open plaza where people are milling about—some looking at the directory located at the far end while others rely on the colorful signpost in the center, reading through the various directional arrows before heading off to their destination. Along the edges of the plaza are a multitude of stalls—selling everything from footlong hot dogs to stuffed animals to cotton candy. There’s a couple of artists painting faces, too, and Daeun only has to give Jungkook one wide-eyed, pleading look before he caves and pulls out his wallet. Aghast, you try to protest, but he waves you off and sends them both off with some cash in hand.
“Consider it payment for all the bagels I’ve deprived you of,” he says, and you relent with a laugh.
Slowly, the two of you make your way around the plaza, making sure to keep a watchful eye on the girls at all times. Half an hour later, Trixie and Daeun come skipping back your way, their faces bright with colorful paint. Daeun has an intricate pink and blue butterfly, while Trixie has opted for the distinctive orange and black stripes of a tiger.
“Do you like it?” she asks, and you nod, bopping her fondly on her painted black nose.
“I don’t just like it, jitterbug. I love it.”
Pleased, she rejoins Daeun, who has successfully diverted Jungkook to the cotton candy stand. Following after her, you hand the vendor your credit card to pay for both snacks before Jungkook can get a word in edgewise. Reluctantly, he tucks his wallet away, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him.
Once the girls have had their fill of the main plaza, the four of you head off in the direction of the penguin exhibit, stopping to look at the zebras and giraffes along the way. Photographs are snapped, and Trixie even flags down a nearby couple and asks them to take a photo of all four of you together. The girls jostle into place in front of the giraffe enclosure, and you suddenly find yourself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungkook, the warmth of his body radiating off of him like the sun in the sky. Your resulting smile feels forced—especially when the girl starts taking multiple photos from different angles—but gradually relaxes. And now, even as you enter the penguin exhibit, you can’t stop sneaking glances at the last photo.
Because in it, you and Jungkook look like couple. You’re standing close enough that anyone who saw it would construe it as a family photo, the two of you beaming with your giggling daughters in front of you, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders.
Swallowing, you let your phone screen go dark and tuck it back into your pocket. You’re coming up on the penguin exhibit now, and the girls can barely contain their excitement as they run ahead to the outermost edge of the enclosure where a massive glass wall allows for a clear view of the penguins swimming about underwater.
“They’re so fast!” Trixie exclaims. She stops at one of the numerous placards lining the glass wall, her little face scrunching as she slowly reads it out loud to Daeun. “It says here some can swim over twenty miles an hour!”
As the girls pull out their notebooks and begin taking notes, you and Jungkook find an unoccupied bench near a rocky outcrop occupied by several bronze penguin statues. “Look,” Jungkook says, patting one of the upright penguins. “You can see how many people have rubbed this little guy’s head. It’s turned gold.”
“Must be good luck,” you remark, running a finger along the golden beak of another penguin. “Or maybe I should make a wish? I don’t really know what this situation calls for.”
“I’m pretty sure you make wishes when you throw a coin into a fountain,” your companion replies, brushing a dark strand of hair off his forehead. “Actually, I think I saw a fountain back there. Should we check it out later?”
“I don’t think I have any change on me,” you reply, peeking into your purse to make sure. “Seriously, who even carries coins anymore?”
“Not me,” Jungkook agrees. “I do usually have at least a little cash on me, though. It’s nice to have sometimes.”
“Mm, yeah. You never know when you’ll need it.”
Just then, Trixie and Daeun run up, gesturing toward the brown building at the very back of the enclosure. “There’s a penguin movie playing over there!” Daeun says. “Can we go see it?”
“Sure,” Jungkook says. “How long is it?”
“I think it runs every twenty minutes,” you reply when Daeun frowns and scratches her head. “Come on. If I’m remembering correctly, we should be able to see more penguins inside too.”
Daeun and Trixie beam. “Cool!” they exclaim in unison, before galloping off and leaving you and Jungkook to follow after them as quickly as you can manage without breaking into a run yourselves.
Your memory proves correct, as you enter the brown building and immediately see that the walls inside are glass as well. A penguin dives off of a rocky island and into the clear blue water, and you watch as it goes all the way to the bottom of the pool before coming back up for air.
After doing a lap of the building, Daeun and Trixie decide to go into the theater to see the fifteen-minute short film. Meanwhile, you and Jungkook find a quiet little alcove near the entrance, chatting softly while watching the penguins behind the glass on the opposite wall.
“I haven’t been to the zoo in ages,” Jungkook admits. “Dae’s mom used to always take her, though. They always came back with a stuffed animal from the gift shop—you might’ve seen them in Daeun’s room, actually. She loves them.”
You nod. “I remember, yeah. It’s quite an impressive collection.” Then you hesitate, gnawing on your bottom lip as you consider your next words and debate whether you’re being too nosy. “Daeun’s mom… can I ask what happened between you?” You pause, then quickly speak again. “And feel free to say no, obviously! You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m probably just poking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Jungkook smiles at you, but there’s a faraway quality to his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Nah, it’s okay. There’s really not much to tell, if I’m honest. Evelyn and I, we started dating when we were nineteen. We got married at twenty-three, had Daeun a couple years later, and then one day we realized that we’d become entirely different people and that we weren’t really in love anymore.”
“Oh.” You aren’t sure what else to say. “I-I’m sorry to hear that.”
He shrugs and sighs, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. “No need to be sorry; it was a mutual thing. Totally amicable. We’re still friends, and we’re a pretty kickass co-parenting team too.”
The conversation continues, and you find out that Evelyn’s job took her overseas last year. According to Jungkook, she currently lives with her new boyfriend, who’s a little pretentious but completely harmless. And despite the six-hour time difference, Evelyn still finds the time to FaceTime Jungkook and Daeun every Sunday afternoon. Because of those calls, she’s apparently heard all about you, too—you’re her favorite teacher, remember? he’d said with a laugh.
“What about you, then?” Jungkook glances over at you inquiringly, his eyebrows raised. “Is it my turn to pry?”
You can tell from the melodious lilt in his tone that he’s teasing. “My story’s far less interesting than yours,” you answer, fiddling with a stray thread on your jacket sleeve. “I don’t have an ex-partner or anything like that. I’ve just always wanted to be a mother, so one day I decided that I was going to do it. I used a donor, got pregnant, and here we are.”
Jungkook takes this in slowly, nodding. “Do you… I mean, do you know who your donor is? Have you met him?”
You shake your head. “No, it was an anonymous thing. I got a profile and some information about his appearance and hobbies and stuff, but not much beyond that.”
“I—” Jungkook begins, before trailing off. “I’m sorry. I’m asking too many questions. I don’t know a whole lot about the sperm donor thing, but I’m glad it worked out for you. Trixie’s an amazing kid.”
“She is,” you murmur. “I love her more than anything.”
“And you’re an amazing mom.” Jungkook’s voice grows softer, and when you turn to look at him, he seems closer than he was before. “I don’t know how you manage it all, teaching and parenting. But you do, and it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”
You aren’t sure who leans in first. All you know is that one moment, you’re staring into Jungkook’s earnest brown eyes, and then in the next, you’re kissing him.
It starts soft. Cautious, even. His lips press against yours gently, once, before he pulls back for a breath. You can feel him exhale, the warmth fanning your cheeks. And then you pull him back in by his collar, fisting one hand in the knit material and finding the soft hair at his nape with the other.
Time slows to a standstill. Jungkook groans against your lips, and you feel the way it rumbles through his chest, the sensation sinking into your skin and settling straight in your core. His hands find your hips, and you wind both arms around his neck to pull him closer.
And then, just as suddenly as it had stopped, time starts ticking again. Reality crashes down around you in the form of familiar, boisterous voices rapidly heading your way. You and Jungkook only barely manage to untangle yourselves before Trixie and Daeun round the corner of the alcove, chattering excitedly about all the new penguin facts they’ve learned.
“Can we go to the petting zoo next?” Trixie asks, seemingly oblivious to your lingering embarrassment at nearly being caught.
Awkwardly, you clear your throat. At your side, Jungkook is faring no better, shuffling his feet and refusing to make eye contact. “Yeah, sure, bug,” you finally manage when you find your voice again. “Lead the way.”
///
Monday dawns cloudy and gray. The weather app on your phone promises thunderstorms later in the afternoon, but that isn’t enough to dampen your mood one bit. Instead, you thumb back over to your messages, your heart skipping a beat when you see the text still sitting at the very top.
[6:54am] Jungkook Jeon: Make sure to stop by bean there, done that before school. Left you a surprise ;)
Taking a deep breath, you type out a response:
[6:56am] You: I’m a little scared. Should I be scared?
His answer comes in immediately. Nah. It’s a good surprise, I promise.
[6:58am] You: Sure it is… 🤨
Biting back a grin, you tuck your phone into your bag and head toward the front door of your apartment, nearly tripping over Taco along the way, who has chosen that moment to start slinking between your legs.
“Really, Taco?” you ask the unperturbed calico cat at your feet. “What if I fell and cracked my head open? Who would feed you then, huh?”
As usual, Taco merely gives you an unimpressed look before flicking her tail and wandering off. Sighing, you call for Trixie to hurry up before turning to check your appearance in the mirror leaning against the wall of the entryway. It’s a large, vintage piece—a gold-framed, flea market find that you treasure dearly and swear makes you look good no matter how awful you might feel.
Satisfied, you hike your bag higher on your shoulder and smooth down the lapels of your coat. Trixie rounds the corner and gives herself a quick once-over too, and you give her a thumbs-up. “Ready, bug?”
“Yup!” she replies, tightening her grip on her and Daeun’s project—a carefully constructed shoebox diorama that shows a group of penguins in their natural icy habitat.
“Let’s go, then.” Opening the front door, you let her through before locking it up behind you. Together, you head out to the car, and Trixie ensures that her diorama is completely secured in the seat beside her while you check your mirrors and turn on the ignition.
The drive to Bean There, Done That! takes only about ten minutes. Jin waves cheerily when he spots you walking up to the counter, but his face positively lights up when he sees Trixie is with you. He absolutely adores your daughter—Trixie loves him too—and on the occasional instance you’ve had to call on him to babysit, the two of them always end up stuffed with food on the couch and giggling over bad puns.
“What can I get you, ma’am?” Jin asks, directing the question at Trixie, who beams at him before turning to look at you with pleading eyes.
“Can I have a double chocolate cookie?”
“That… actually sounds really good,” you admit. “Make that two. And Jin, did someone leave something here for me earlier?”
Jin grins. “Thought you’d never ask. This here is from one Mr. Jungkook Jeon.” Reaching beneath the counter, he pulls out a box and watches as you open the lid to reveal half a dozen cinnamon streusel bagels with a neatly folded napkin on top. Unfolding it, you can only laugh at the words written on it:
Hope you have a mug-nificient day!
“Just so you know, he stole that line from me,” Jin says with a sniff. “I’m not letting him take the credit.”
“Duly noted,” you tell him, trying and failing to hide your smile as you look down at the note again. After a couple beats, Jin clears his throat, and you glance up to see that he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Sooo,” he begins slowly, dragging out the single syllable, “I imagine you want a fresh napkin and a pen, unless… are you going to see Mr. Jungkook Jeon at some point?”
You shrug, feigning nonchalance as best you can. “Trixie was paired with his daughter for a school project, so we’ve been meeting up for the past few weeks so they can work on it. Now that that’s over with… I don’t really know. We’re both pretty busy.”
Jin scoffs. “That’s a lame excuse, especially since he’s clearly flirting with you. And—”
Unfortunately, Trixie interrupts before he can finish his sentence, skipping back over from where she had been examining the pastry display cases along the wall. “Can I have a lemon bar?”
You fix her with a stern look. “You already asked for the double chocolate cookie, remember? The lemon bars can wait until next time.” Then you turn back to Jin, reaching into your bag for your wallet. “We should probably get to school, anyhow. What do I owe you?”
“Not a thing,” he replies, handing over a paper bag with your cookies and a bottle of apple juice. “It’s already been taken care of.”
From the wink he sends your way, you know that it must have been Jungkook who doled out the extra cash for your breakfast. “Thanks, Jin,” you reply, handing Trixie the cookies and juice before accepting the cup of coffee he hands over. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Pleasure doing business with ya,” is his response. Trixie waves goodbye, and together, the two of you head back out to the car. It’s started drizzling since you arrived, and you thank your lucky stars that you’d managed to snag a parking spot right up front.
Your daughter seems to be deep in thought as you help her buckle her seatbelt, her lips pursed in concentration. Then, out of nowhere, she asks:
“Do you like Mr. Jeon?”
You nearly choke. “W-what?”
“Mr. Jeon,” she repeats patiently, and you’re thankful that she’s not looking at you—instead, she’s focused on the raindrops splashing against the window and racing each other down the glass. “You spent a bunch of time with him when Daeun and I were doing school stuff. What’d you do?”
“Adult stuff,” you reply, before cursing inwardly at the potential implication behind your words. “Mostly, I spent my time grading homework. And he had some things to do for work, too.”
Trixie hums, apparently satisfied with this answer. “He’s nice,” she declares. “He buys us food and he has a cool house.”
“Sure,” you agree. “He’s a very nice man.”
And with that settled, you finish buckling her in her seat. Shutting the back door, you suck in a deep, calming breath before circling around to the driver’s side and setting off on the familiar route to Hybe Academy.
///
“... Miss {L/N}, are you listening?”
You blink and sit up a little straighter in your chair. “Yes, of course. Please go on.” Hastily, you scribble down a few random words, hoping that will placate the parent sitting across from you. It’s parent-teacher conference week—and you’re beyond grateful that it’s Friday night as Mrs. Greene rambles on and on about how the school isn’t doing enough for her precious baby boy. She’s talking about how the school day should be extended now—or at least how teachers should watch after the children whose parents can’t pick them up right at three-thirty. I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to understand. I mean, my husband is a very busy man, and I have my own business to run. I can’t be expected to drop everything in the middle of a client meeting to come pick Derrick up…
It takes everything in you not to snap at her. You know for a fact that her “business” is selling bejeweled keychains on Etsy—and that they’re incredibly poorly made, if the reviews are anything to go by. Instead, you bite your tongue—hard enough to taste metal—and remind her that the school’s operating hours are not for you to decide.
After what feels like an eternity, the clock strikes seven, marking the end of her reserved time block. Standing up, you shake her hand and wish her a pleasant evening before opening your planner and checking to see if you have any more meetings. Your parents have Trixie for the night and there’s a bottle of wine on your kitchen counter calling your name, and you cannot wait to get home and relax in the bath with a glass. Maybe, you think, I’ll even do a face mask.
The final name written in your planner stops you in your tracks. You haven’t seen him in over a week—not since that Monday when he left you half a dozen bagels at the coffee shop. The girls had insisted on meeting up that evening to celebrate turning their project in, so you’d all gone to a popular taco joint.
And then there’s a knock on your door, the three raps pulling you right out of your musings.
Silhouetted there in the doorframe is Jungkook Jeon, decked out in a polished charcoal suit and wearing a smile that makes your insides lurch dangerously in your chest. His dark hair is parted on the side, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his brow piercing glinting behind the hair that’s loose across his forehead. “Hi,” he says, his voice low, and you have to remind yourself that it’s impolite to stare as you find your voice.
“Hi yourself.”
He grins, baring the adorably prominent front teeth that you hate to admit you’ve grown rather fond of. “You look like you weren’t expecting me.”
“Oh, no. I just wasn’t expecting you on time,” you retort, gesturing to the plastic chair sitting across from your desk. “Your track record is questionable, at best.”
Jungkook grimaces. “Yeah, sorry about that. I made sure to leave plenty early this time, just in case I ran into traffic. Or if Bobby decided to corner me in the elevator again—that guy really doesn’t know when to shut up.” He pauses. “Wait, I told you about him, right? Works on the development team, owns one singular tie? Balding but tries to hide it with a bad combover?”
“That rings a bell,” you reply. “The tie is red and Christmas-themed, right?”
“Sure is.” Jungkook chuckles. “I thought they might’ve been polka dots the first time I met him, but nope. Christmas ornaments, even in the middle of July.”
You laugh. “Odd fashion choice.”
“Seriously. Don’t even get me started on the rest of his clothes,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “Here, let’s change the subject. Have you eaten yet?”
You gesture around your classroom, artificially lit with fluorescent light even as the sun begins to dip closer to the horizon. “Nope. I mean, I had about twenty minutes between the end of the school day and the start of my first meeting, so I scarfed down an apple in the break room. But that was hours ago.”
“Perfect.” At your look of disbelief, he chortles and quickly amends his phrasing. “Sorry, I just mean that I’ve got you covered. Here, look.” And he begins pulling things out of a paper bag that you hadn’t noticed him carrying before. Crackers, sliced baguette, an assortment of cured meats and cheeses, grapes. He produces a bottle of wine next, and you very nearly start clapping.
The last thing he pulls out is a single red rose, his smile soft and warm and dizzyingly affectionate as he presents it to you. “I—wow.” You aren’t sure what to say. “Thank you. I… I feel like I should’ve prepared something. Stolen an apple for you from the teacher’s lounge, at least.”
Jungkook snorts. “Well, here’s something you can help me out with. I don’t actually have glasses for the wine. Totally spaced and forgot that we’d need them. Any ideas?”
You’re on your feet before he can even finish asking. “I teach elementary schoolers, Mr. Jeon. I always have cups.”
Making your way to the cabinet by the window, you grab a box of little paper cups and pull out two. Jungkook accepts them when you hand them over, and you watch as he unscrews the cap on the wine bottle before pouring out two generous helpings. Together, you lay out the food he’s brought, spreading it across whatever empty space there is on your desk. “Cheers,” Jungkook says once you’ve both taken your seats again, raising his paper cup to tap against yours.
“Cheers.”
For a moment, there is silence as you both take a drink. Then Jungkook speaks, glancing up at you as he carefully begins crafting himself a mini salami and cheese sandwich. “So, where does Trixie stay while you’re doing all these meetings? Do your parents have her?”
You nod, taking another much-needed sip of wine. “Yeah, my mom picked her up after school. They actually have her until Sunday—my dad’s going to teach her how to fish tomorrow, and then I think they’re going to build a pillow fort.”
Jungkook chuckles around a mouthful of gouda. “I love a good pillow fort. Dae insists on building one at least once a week, and at this point, I’m honestly surprised there isn’t one permanently in her bedroom.”
Grinning, you reach for a cracker and some cheese. “Taco manages to destroy every pillow fort Trixie and I try to make. She either decides it’s a trampoline, or that it’s a good time to start scratching everything she can reach. We can’t win.”
“Sounds like you need better defenses,” Jungkook replies, waggling his eyebrows. “That, or you can come over whenever you need a pillow fort fix. I’m sure Dae and Trixie would create something truly epic together. I mean, that penguin diorama was pretty fucking cool, wasn’t it?”
“Very fucking cool,” you agree, and both of you burst into laughter.
Deep blue twilight settles outside as the two of you continue chatting over your makeshift meal. The cheese begins to dwindle, only a few lonely grapes remain on their stems, and when you go to top of your wine, you realize there’s less than a quarter of the bottle left.
“Wow, we really put a dent in this thing,” you remark, holding it out for Jungkook to see. “And it’s already dark out. The time kind of got away from us, huh?”
“You won’t catch me complaining,” Jungkook replies, tipping the last of his drink into his mouth. “I’m enjoying spending time with you.”
You can’t help but smile at his earnest honesty. “Me too.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then you rise from your seat. At the same time, Jungkook stands up from his chair on the other side of the desk, making his way around to meet you halfway. And then his mouth is on yours, warm and firm in a way that makes your heart do a backflip before plunking straight into your churning stomach.
Jungkook’s hands find your hips, palming along the flowy material of your dress before finding a resting place just above the soft curve of your rear. Your fingers delve into the soft hair at his nape to tug him closer, and he groans against your lips when your nails rake across his scalp. Slowly, he begins trailing kisses from the line of your jaw down to the column of your neck, pausing to lavish attention on any spots that make you gasp or squirm in his grasp.
The growing hardness against your lower belly is growing more and more evident with each passing second. Deliberately, you slide one hand down his chest, admiring the toned ridges of his abdomen that you can feel through his white shirt, before making your way down past his silver belt buckle. Jungkook inhales sharply when you cup his hardening cock through the charcoal material of his slacks, and, emboldened, you thumb across the head and relish in his resulting groan.
Any caution you may have had is thrown to the wind. Adjusting your grip, you shiver when you realize that he’s now fully hard beneath your fingertips, his erection thick and hot through the fabric. You try and visualize what it looks like underneath it all—the color of the flared head, the veins that run along it, the curve of the shaft, if there is one. And then you realize that you don’t have to imagine—you can look. You can rip his clothes off and explore every inch of his body in the way you’ve been itching to since you first kissed at the zoo last week. Your hands scrabble for his belt buckle, fumbling with the silver prong embedded in its notch.
“W-wait.” Jungkook’s hand lands over yours, and you note the breathlessness in his voice with satisfaction. “I… this is probably cheesy, but this isn’t how I pictured this happening. Not that I don’t like what’s happening, but I just… I’d like to take you out first. On a proper date, I mean. Without our girls in the next room, or down the hall, or in the museum playplace wreaking havoc.”
“That does sound nice,” you admit. “Actually, I’d really enjoy that. I haven’t been on a proper date in years.”
“Let’s do it, then,” Jungkook says. “My babysitter’s already been paid to watch Daeun until midnight, and your parents have Trixie. This is kinda perfect.”
You can’t help it—you drag your thumb across the head of his still-hard cock again and revel in the way his breath hitches just a little bit in his throat. “Midnight?” you query with an innocent tilt of your head. “Were you expecting something to happen tonight?”
“Hoping,” he replies with a cheeky grin. “And wait, let me ask you out properly. It just wouldn’t feel right otherwise.”
Confused, you let him stand from his seat and slip around you to retrieve the paper bag on the ground. Understanding dawns when he reaches inside and grabs a napkin, and you watch on in amusement as he takes a pen from the cup on your desk and begins writing. And after a few seconds, he wordlessly presents this to you:
Drinks? Dinner? Maybe dessert? ;)
And you can only laugh. “Game on, mister.”
#jungkook#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook scenarios#bts#bts smut#bts scenarios#jungkook fluff#bts fluff#bts fanfic#bts fic#jeon jungkook#kpop scenarios#single parent au#teacher au#single parent!au#teacher!au#lia writes
997 notes
·
View notes
Note
-| hi my newfound love 💕
i bring to thee pervy thoughts to satiate your kinktober thirst 💦
STAY WITH ME NOW ….
N-
N-NAGA!BAKUGO 🐍
Naga!Bakugo who stands about 7ft tall at his full height. Thick, muscular arms crossed over his bulging pecs that lead to into perfectly chiseled abs and tapers into a massive corded serpentine tail that he uses to prep you before stretching your tight little hole out with his two slimy ✨cocks✨
do with this what you will ❤️
Kinktober day 1 and only 🤪
Ngl it took forever but I got it done lmaooo excuse mistakes I never proofread
Pairing: Naga!Bakugo x Explorer Chubby Black!Fem Reader
c/w: 18+ MDNI
chileeeee 😭 monster fucking, oviposition, tail fucking, kats has two cawks, oral (m!receiving), language ofc, Katsuki hates humans, Katsuki’s 100 yrs old at least, he’s also a lil mean but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t sprinkle a little praise here and there, venom intoxication, full nelson position, cervix fucking, girl you a babymama now 🤤 ❀ let me know if I’m missing any tags ❀
inspo behind his look lol
❀
Something wasn’t right about this forest, so many sinkholes and underground traps lingered around the bunker-like caves.
Which is exactly why you’re limping back to your camp. You’d lost your canteen, which meant you had no drinking water for the night. Fortunately, you had somewhere warm and sheltered to sleep.
You entered the bunker you’d claimed for yourself. This one was the least creepy of them all, lacking the furs and animal carcasses you’d seen in a couple of the others.
At the entryway you kicked off your boots, not wanting to track dirt and mud inside. The tapestry you’d brought gave you a decent amount of privacy, kept you hidden from whatever might’ve been lurking outside, however it couldn’t hide you from something already inside.
“Oi, it’s about time, who the fuck are you?” He snarled violently, tail curling around to push you the rest of the way inside. He’d been waiting on you to return all day, dying to see just who was bold enough to trespass amongst his territory.
He was huge, not only big and brutish but tall too, his head nearly grazing the cave’s ceiling as he raised up at you.
Katsuki hated humans. They were messy, disgusting and vile, destroying every place they’d come to inhabit.
So he’s absolutely seething when a ditzy little bitch makes herself comfortable right in the middle of his territory. Pinning your dumb little tapestry in the entryway, and leaving your things scattered.. neatly in a corner?
Okay whatever you didn’t make a mess, but still he’d spent days digging it out and getting it just right for his rut, only to have some human bitch trespassing while he was out collecting supplies.
“Oh I-.”
Terrified was an understatement as you looked everywhere but his face to to avoid his angry red eyes.
“You’re a..a…like a centaur..but a snake?” He heard you say. Should someone, or something like this even exist? You couldn’t help but wonder if he was the product of some freaky genetic splicing, or something conjured up from the deepest darkest depths of your monsterfucking fantasies.
His human or hunanoid half was absolutely beautiful. A very handsome face, even if it was fixed into a scowl, big muscled arms and an abdomen like a washboard. He wore golden cuffs on his arms and wrists, thick rings adorned a couple of his fingers. His body was thick and bulky, tapering down to a slender twelve foot long tail. His scales were black with splotches of tan, the underbelly that same sandy tan color.
“A Naga, dumbass. I don’t have time for ya little games, bitch. The hell are you doing in my den. Where’d you come from?”
“Your what? I’m traveling south and I just needed a camp for a few nights. Please don’t eat me, I’ll leave!” You were willing to beg the handsome creature for your life. You nearly fainted at the feel of his cold, scaly tail wrapping around and giving a deterrent squeeze.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He snarled. The last thing he’d ever eat was a disgusting human, you’d probably taste like shit anyway, with all the garbage humans ate.
Now, a deer or a big fat juicy rabbit? He’d do just about anything for. He’d probably go hunting after he figured out how to dispose of you.
“So, what should I do with you, my chubby little bunny?”
His tone was taunting, you’re sure anything you suggested he’d laugh at, but you mustered up enough courage to speak anyway.
His gaze was fixed on you, red reptilian eyes daring you to make a move. He wanted you to run. He’d probably even stall a bit, give you a little leeway before hunting you down like the predator he was.
And when he found you he’d contemplate snapping your pretty little neck, or pumping so much venom into your veins that your blood solidified completely, or even gutting you like a fish and tossing you aside for the scavengers to deal wit-
“K-keep me?”
He stared at you like you’d grown another head.
“Keep you?” He spat the words like they were poison filling his mouth. He scoffed, nose turned up and brows bunched into a menacing scowl. “Fuck are you talkin’ about?”
He’d expected you to beg for a merciful death, totally caught off guard when you suggested such an impious request.
“L-like a pet or maid..I-I can cook or forage or…please you.” You reasoned with the monster, voice dying in your throat at the end of the statement. You knew there was no way he’d let you go unscathed, so you offered up the next best thing, you hoped.
The blonde stopped and looked down at you, arms crossed over the thick trunk of his body and squeezing his deliciously large pecs together, before his mouth turned up in a devilish smirk. Uncoiling his tail, he dropped you right on your butt.
“Don’t need a pet, but I do need an incubator.” Your eyes widened when his eyes fixated on your chubby tummy.
“Incubator?”
“Yeah,” His forked tongue flickered. “Ain’t got a mate, but I’m ready for a litter.“
He slithered the rest of the way to you, pulling you right into his arms. He pressed his cool fingers into your doughy body, pulling you right up against him. “You have the perfect body to bare my clutch, so you will.”
Sure, it was contradictory. He hated humans, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use you and all of your warm holes, right?
“Either that or I stuff em’ into your corpse.”
He could smell your fear, along with the sweet scent of ovulation and it was absolutely intoxicating. Your scent alone made him fucking feral, made him want nothing more than to burrow deeper into his den and have his way with you, to pump you full of cum and then his eggs.
Which is exactly what he’d do. Make you pay for disturbing his peace and triggering his rut early.
“Gonna keep papa’s eggs nice and warm, right? Ya promise?”
You nod with so much force your head might fall off, flinching when his thin tongue flickered rapidly beside your ear.
“Good, now whad’ya say about pleasing me, Bunny?”
***
The naga is left speechless when you take the head of one of his cocks into your mouth. The warmth enveloping him like the tightest hug.
“Fuck…what a good little bitch.”
You responded with the faintest little ‘mhm’ staring up at him all starry-eyed and dazed. Your tongue ran up and down that thick vein, sending shivers up his spine.
Katsuki had fucked with plenty of Naga women, but none of them had ever taken his dicks into their mouth, too prude and snobby to commit such a profane act.
But humans—humans were the embodiment of sin, the epitome of absolute trash, and before now he’s never been more grateful for the scum of your race.
Because here you were, the sexiest plump little vixen he’d ever seen, on your knees with your tongue swirling around each of his heads, showing neither more attention than the other.
You squished one of them between your busom, fucking it with your tits while your mouth handled the other.
“Holy fuck.” The naga breathed out, palming your head to push you down onto his cock, the tip nudging the threshold of your throat. Katsuki’s mind was clouded with delirium, head thrown back as little grunts and groans were forced out of him.
He laced his fingers into your braids, the hair ties that held your bun long gone. He was surprisingly gentle, forming your hair into a ponytail to rut against your mouth.
You sucked his cocks like your life depended on it, because it did. You needed him to feel like you were worth keeping, not to be discarded after you’d given him a litter.
“S-stop.”
Of course you didn’t stop, too stupefied to even understand the command at first. The naga felt like putty in your hands, the rattle of his tail moving intensely fast, nearly beating against the ground to signal just how close he was.
Your tongue and throat tingled as you worked him with your mouth, pushing him closer and closer to a release that would’ve brought him to his knees if he had them.
“Stop…or I’ll kill ya.” Bakugou panted hard, breaths ragged and strained, giving your hair a rough tug.
He quite literally meant what he said, as much as he did want to paint your throat with his cum, you’d likely asphyxiate from all that semen.
Your mouth was off of him in an instant, staring up at him waiting for your next order. You were a delectable sight to behold. Saliva dripping from your chin onto your big tits.
He pulled you up into a sloppy kiss, coating your tongue and throat with venomous saliva. It made your mouth water, the more you swallowed it down. You were now covered in a light sheen of sweat, body lax in his arms and incredibly sensitive, signs that you ingested the poison well.
“Please! I want-I need your cocks! Need you to fuck m-me.” His venom had you slack-jawed and slurring, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth.
Katsuki loved a bitch who wasn’t too proud to beg, carnal urges roused and ready to give you all that you asked for.
“Gotta stretch that pretty pussy if you want both my cocks.”
You nodded, or at least thought you nodded, head swaying as he maneuvered you around. Now you have your arms looped around his neck as he holds you up by your knees.
You let out the most wanton moan when his rattle breached your cunt, gasping and panting like a whore when more and more of that thick tail made its way inside.
Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth formed a wide ‘o’ as the rings of the his tail were sheathed deep into your cunt.
“Nice and warm.” His deep raspy voice lingers in your mind even after he’s spoken.
“Fuckkkk! I need more!” You cried out, cunt gushing more of your syrupy arousal around his tail and down your thighs.
“Doing s’good, I’ll give ya more.” He praised, fangs pressed into his lip as he slipped his tail out, rattle coated in your pussy’s cream.
Tears stung your eyes at the delicious stretch of his upper cock stuffing your cunt.
He bounced you up and down, loving how your warm, creamy pussy felt around him. With every thrust the head of his second cock bumped against your clit sending tremors through your body every single time.
He never wanted to leave the warmth of your cunt and quite frankly you didn’t want him to either with how you wrapped your thick thighs around him so tightly.
He was able to pry you off of him a little, just enough to position his second dick at your entrance.
Completely cock-drunk and dickmatized you’d probably die if he pulled out of you. You’d never been so full in your life, filled the the brim with this monster’s cock.
“You said you wanted both right?”
“Uhhuh?” You agreed to all of his questions if it meant keeping your life. Your mind was so clouded and hazy that you didn’t even process what he meant until he stuffed that second cock into your greedy cunt.
Shifting the position, he turns you around so that your back was against his front, cocks still stuffed inside as he handled you like you were featherlight. He lifts your legs up until he has them over his forearms, you’re now folded in half against him with his hands locked behind your head.
In an instant he’s moving again, holding you still and slamming into your pussy at a god-like speed. “Oooo shit.” You moaned, staring down at your bulging belly.
“You’re so stronggg.” Your praises pumped his ego, if that was even possible, the man already had so much confidence as it was. “Nghhh it’s s-so fucking good.”
“Yeah? Human whore loves my cocks?” He had the meanest grin on his face, basking in your praises.
“Yesssss, fuck yes.” You screamed, eyes crossed and tongue lolling out like a mad woman as he fucked you into oblivion.
“J-just like t-t-that.” You stuttered as you felt the peak of an orgasm creeping up on you.
It had just dawned on you, the blonde hadn’t even given you his name, if he had one.
“N-name..what’s your name.”
“Katsuki.” The Naga said, thrusts never faltering. He rarely gave his first name, especially to people he deemed beneath him. However, in a matter of moments you’d be the mother of his brood, of course he made an exception.
“Katsu…mmphhh. I’m gonna cum, Katsukiiii!” You whimpered out his name as you coated his cock with your juices.
“Oh f-fuck, what’s happening?” Your hooded eyes widened when the thick heads of his cocks pushed passed the ring of your cervix, sitting snug inside your womb and ready to deliver his clutch.
Play time was over, and Katsuki was ready to collect on that promise you made him.
Large and round, the first egg settled into your belly. One after the other he deposited six big eggs into your belly. The stretch was uncomfortable, heavy.
You weren’t even sure if you could stand holding so much extra weight. After all you’ve been through you weren’t sure if you could stand at all, honestly.
He finally lifted you off of his cocks, both semi flaccid and slowly retreating back into their slit. Your eyes were fixated below you, intrigued by the bright green slime that dripped out of your cunt but even more so by the swell of your tummy after being filled with the naga’s eggs.
You felt yourself being moved, until you were layed against your sleeping bag and few extra blankets you had brought to bundle up with.
You were drained— body covered in sweat and cum, belly stretched to capacity. You didn’t even want to think about how you looked right now.
“Oi, stay with me.” He slapped a calloused hand over your cheek a couple of times.
You floated in and out of consciousness but you kept your eyes locked on his crimson ones as best as you could.
“Did good.” He patted your head as you snuggled into his cool body, bulging belly jutting against his abdomen.
He rubbed a hand over your belly. ”S’good for me, gonna give me a strong litter.” He kissed your forehead and that’s all you could remember before consciousness evaded you.
❀
#bakugou x chubby reader#bakugou smut#black reader#bnha smut#chubby reader#mha x plus sized reader#bakugou imagine#bakugo x poc!reader#bakugou x black reader#kinktober#plus size teratophilia#teratophilia smut#terato#naga!bakugou#naga!bakugo#naga monster#naga smut#HentyeHottie
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
… I hear you.. AND BOY DOES THAT GIVE ME IDEAS!! 🤩
An image of how Reader heals the Pilgrim gang~
✨Wukong✨
Gentle as can be~ takes her time to slowly heal every possible (or imagined) scratch and bruise, all with a loving hand~ …. And while teasing the absolute shit outa him… 😜
🤝🏻 Sandy 🤝🏻
Her bestie? Her BFF?? The go to method for healing the big blue good-boy™️ is of course their secret best-friends handshake~ 😎
😐 Pigsy 😐
Every time this guy tries to go in for a hug.. and every time he gets slapped in the face.. healing through violence… somewhat contradictory? Perhaps, but it works~
🙏🏻 Tang 🙏🏻
… She pinches his nose in a firm grip, and start lecturing him.. “repeat after me, I will NOT listen to Pigsy and go near the obviously suspicious Bogota in the distance, especially when everyone else tells me not to!” basically a Mom moment~
🐴 Ao Lie 🐴
Gentle head pats.. after his own Father sentenced him to death, the poor kid deserves some form of genuine affection.. another Mom moment~
YOU. You get it.
And if you don’t mind me adding on to this~ because this in turn gave me more ideas lmao
Honestly Wukong doesn’t even go to you for healing to begin with. He’s the Monkey King??? Immortalx6???? He doesn’t need your healing he can just heal himself 🤨. Yes it does hurt him to have to regrow or repair himself, I imagine it’s less that he heals himself and more just…speeds up the process of the injuries healing themselves meaning he gets a fuckton of pain all at once, but given he is both immortal and impatient, he doesn’t really think much of the pain…or he tries to tell himself that anyway.
But after one of the battles where he’s forced to go to Guanyin for help he finds himself angrily sulking because he doesn’t like having to ask for help. But then you come over and just…place a friendly hand on his shoulder and heal him. He is prepared for it to hurt like how he heals himself but it doesn’t?? In fact it feels nice??? What the Fuck™. He could have been getting THIS the whole time??
Every battle after that he is first in line to get healed (listen it’s just quicker if you heal him ok don’t look too deep into it-) even going so far as to push Pigsy out of the way at points. Don’t come between the monkey and his (excuse to get your hands on him) heals. See he thought he knew what he was getting into. A quick heal and (your touch…) he’s back to full health. He was wrong because reader is wise to his schemes and makes it their personal mission to fluster the shit out of him.
“Why is this taking so long??”
“Because you keep fidgeting”
“Well you need to hurry up!!”
“I’m adding on a minute of heal time for every time you rush me.”
“What?? No just finish up already!”
“Three minutes.”
“Stop going so slow!!”
“Four! Do I hear five?? Goodness your gonna give me the wrong idea if you keep this up. It’s like you want my hands on you~”
All the while you’re slooowly dragging your hands across him and he’s doing everything in his power to not think about how good it feels, how nice it feels to have your gentle and delicate touches on him and looking anywhere other than at you. Jokes on him though he may not blush super easily but his ears are always the first to show it.
Sun Wukong was NOT prepared for this. He’s used to admiration from his subjects, fear from his enemies, respect from those he’s fought. But this??? This is new. He’s not used to this. Even back on flower fruit mountain he was never subjected to this kind of attention. He doesn’t…hate it per-say, but he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He might try to cross his arms, make himself look intimidating he doesn’t know-
“Nah-ah, uncross those arms mister I need access to your chest.”
He is suffering. Your going to kill him he’s sure of it. This is how he dies. Just by being subjected to your ministrations. Yes he knows he could leave at anytime but he’s not going to.
It doesn’t really occur to him that you’re taking your time on purpose at first because it’s not exactly like he was paying attention the first time you healed him and he accepts your explanation of it being more precise when you touch him like that readily enough. To his credit he does eventually catch on to what your doing by being purposefully slow and handsy. But like by that point he’s down bad and doubles down.
He flips the script BIIIG time when he goes from “feelings are dumb” to courting/relationship status though. If he was a menace before now he is INSUFFERABLE.
“You missed a spot”
“Oh? Where?”
“Move your hands lower”
“WUKONG.”
“I am injured! Don’t you want to see me get better? 🥺”
Or otherwise now he is intentionally doing whatever he can to increase how long it takes
“Hey you still intend to go slower if I rush you right?”
“Probably? Why do you ask-“
“WOW you are going so slow you need to hurry up and finish already because this is taking forever, we’ve been here like all day seriously how much longer is this going to take??”
“…”
“How long does that buy me?”
“…”
*Insta-Heals him*
D:<
As for the others,
Sandy/Sha Wujing is an absolute sweetheart, always patiently waiting for his turn to be healed or for you to finish. Always asks for heals with a please and thanks you every time. Secret handshake is absolutely how he gets healed. 10/10 would heal again. Best patient ever.
Tang is….fine most times. He’s real sorry for making you go through the trouble though. Really sorry. Has he told you how sorry he is? Because he is. He’s really really sorry. Swears he won’t do it again. A simple shoulder pat is all he really needs as he feels reaaaaally sorry and just feels the worst about this. No but fr he feels SO GUILTY. Healing him is part actually healing him and part feelings jam because he probs needs to be reassured that what happened wasn’t his fault.
Oof but when it’s because of Pigsy starting shit again and pulls him into danger? That’s when the pinching starts. How many times have you and Wukong told him not to listen to Pigsy?? So many times?? AND YET??? …he’s still really sorry tho
Ao Lie doesn’t really need healing all that often due to being a horse most of the time but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t occasionally sidle up to you and push his head under your hand to ask for it. Carrying the monk all that time has gotta be tiring, even if he is a dragon. Especially since he isn’t even doing it in his natural form! So that little boost of energy you give him really helps him out. Also a sweetheart 10/10 (why can’t Pigsy be like you and Sandy FR)
Pigsy tho…bless Reader’s heart you TRIED to actually properly heal him once. But unfortunately with Pigsy being Pigsy that went about as well as expected. As soon as he found out you heal through touch it was all over. “Oh my fair friend I am dying!! Only your sweet kiss can heal me. 😚” which did result in the slap heal. To his…tiny tiny bit of credit he does stop the antics after the first few times. Not because he realized that it won’t happen, but because Wukong won’t let him. Literally, he tries to be his fail-suave self during a time when Wukong is standing right behind you and one very intense glare coupled with a hand going to his ear to pull out his cudgel is all it takes to get him to stop….mostly. Still tries it when Wukong isn’t around though. Always results in a slap.
#jttw#lmk#monkey king reborn#sun wukong x reader#Sun Wukong#sha wujing#zhu bajie#ao lie#Tang XuanZang#hahaha Monkey Man is down bad get super wreckt
360 notes
·
View notes
Note
ofc ofc ofc, sub!jack sparrow supremacy✨ So I didn't really plan this out, but something about jack getting the cockiness fucked outta him…it just does something to me. I don't mind presentation, so you can keep it gender neutral if you like!! Now i'll proceed to obsessively refresh the 'dom reader' tag until you publish it <3
Pairing: CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow x Dom GN!Reader
Type: Draft
A/N: Posting this because I promised to get it out <3
Minors DNI <3
You and Jack had gotten off on the wrong foot, to say the least. Well, in your opinion. He didn't seem quite so bothered by it, more.. excited? That definitely ticked you off. He was so.. so infuriating.. so carefree. He treated you like some alluringly gorgeous god of war and that he was some un-killable fool who dared question your presence. Like he was the special one who would never ever be shown your wrath. You hated it.
Jack Sparrow was known across the seas as the luckiest, unlucky but admirable alcoholic to ever stumble upon the slippery decks of a ship. You however, were known as a vicious, territorial, almost Nordic pirate who guarded their claimed land with iron and steel. No one dared to venture near your territory, the pure amount of fear had made you almost forgotten to this day. Not that you minded of course. Stories of your cruelty and maliciousness spread an elaboration of what you were truly like, the tales isolating you in an almost comforting sense of loneliness.
You almost wished you had back that loneliness. But no. Of course not. That fool had made sure to never give you a sense of tranquility ever again.
"HELLLOOOO??"
A shouting voice was heard over the waves, it was slightly slurred and incredibly obnoxious for this early hour. The golden sun peeked over the horizon, sending golden slivers dancing across the waters surface.
You grunted softly, opening an eye and slowly picking yourself off the deck of your ship where you had peacefully been napping. You were an intimidating figure, at least 6'4" and toned from years of taming rough oceans. Your skin was tanned and mottled with scars and tattoos. Your braided and decorated hair glowed a fiery auburn in the growing daylight, 'like molten copper' as your late mother used to say.
Silently, you moved over to the ships edge, raking your cold green gaze over the sandy expanse of the small island you were moored next to. And there he was..
That daft moron got himself stranded a few days ago, somehow separating himself from his crew AND the Black Pearl. You had moored here a few weeks prior, reading the stars and waiting for the perfect time to sail back to your hidden cove you called home. He had dragged himself drunkenly out of the sea not 16 hours ago and your tranquil peace had disappeared from that point forward.
You had no intention of helping him, his constant chatting and one-sided conversations making him insufferable. He was doing it on purpose and you knew that, but it got on your nerves either way.
"What tha fuck d'ya want?" You snapped crossly over the well-kept railing of your ship. Your gaze narrowed as a triumphant smirk played across his lips. He was admittedly handsome, you'd give him that.
"Mornin' lovely..." He singsonged flirtatiously, gazing up at you and shielding his eyes from the now fully-risen sun.
You scowled in disapproval, not appreciating this levelling sort of flirtatious friendliness.
"You know.." He continued thoughtfully, mockingly speaking as if you were some sort of Lord, "I'd really like some food and water.. if you'd be so gallant as to spare some?"
You scowled once more and moved away from the railing. As much as it was 'survival of the fittest' and a constant battle with your stubbornly cruel personality, you couldn't watch a man starve to death with your help right in front of him. Besides, apart from being an infuriating pest, he hadn't actually hurt you.
A neatly coiled rope lay near your mast and you picked it up, carrying it back over to the railing. You secured the end firmly to the rail and dropped it down so the other ratty end dipped into the salty water.
"Climb up before I change my fuckin' mind.." You snapped, tilting your head in a sort of aggressive invitation aboard.
Jack wasted no time in scrambling up the rope like a monkey, your powerful grasp steadying his shoulder and body as he helped himself aboard. He stood to the side as you untied the rope and started to reel it up. His hand absentmindedly rubbed where your fingers had gripped his collarbone, his gaze flicking to your veined, clearly weathered hand as it worked the now sodden rope.
You turned and looked down at him, your gaze becoming ever so less furious as he looked back up at you and thanked you for your generosity. For some reason, you felt a little guilty for not letting him on sooner. He looked like a curious little mutt, his beautiful brown eyes seeming to warm you up from the inside out. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked away, scolding yourself for getting in your head. You motioned Jack to follow and brought him below deck.
Your boat was large yet you were the only one on it. It was decorated beautifully, showing off what obvious peace you had by yourself. There were maps and tapestries in some rooms, others having shark skulls and ornately engraved longswords hung up with bent nails. Apparently you were incredibly creative as well as a ruthless killer.
Jack marvelled your boat before his gaze curiously roamed your broad form. His keen eye took note of your clean clothes, the neat Nordic pattern embroidery and the occasional stain of spattered blood. Your belt held pouches and sheathed knives, all made by you. He admired your physique too, the way your muscles flexed under your skin as your opened the heavy door to your main living area. You didn't smell like the usual pirate either. An alluring scent of spices, fabric, seawater and blood seemed to follow you wherever you walked.
Eventually you sat him down, taking note of his ripped clothes and dirty features. You motioned for him to hold out his hands, working in complete silence as you wiped off his hands with a wet rag. The salt water stung a few scratches but Jack patiently held still, letting you wipe off his neck and face area. You almost did this as a sign of respect before standing up and getting him some clean clothes. You held out the rag and the pail of sea water, wordlessly telling him to get dressed and clean the rest of his body. He did as he was hold and you turned, moving to the other side of the cabin to find some stale bread and dried fish for him to eat.
When you finally turned around, he had washed himself and was getting dressed. Only Jacks upper body remained unclothed and your green gaze wandered over his tan skin. He had many bullet and knife wounds, adding up to the lucky part of his reputation. Personally, you found them quite beautiful although you would rather die than admit it.
"Here.." You said gruffly, handing him the plate of foot and a pouch of rainwater off your person. "Rest for a while.."
"Ah.. thank you.." Jack replied, finishing dressing himself and taking the plate and pouch from you. "I knew ya soul would be as beautiful as your pretty face.."
You sighed silently, moving to pick up his discarded clothes. You walked back up to the sunny desk, laying out Jacks clothes so they would dry and be parched of their salty sea smell.
You moved back below deck, your gaze raking over Jacks now-clothed chest and opening your mouth to ask about his scars.
"You really are nothing like the stories say, are ya?" Jack said as he interrupted your train of thought before you could speak and looked from his food to your eyes.
You paused, momentarily re-arranging your thoughts before speaking.
"No I'm not..." You said eventually, motioning to your own chest in reference to his bullet wound scars. "But you're definitely as lucky as the tales tell.."
Jack looked down and smiled slightly to himself, unable to form a response to that. It felt odd to be complimented by such a stoic and feared persona like yourself.
"What are ya really like then?" Jack asked, drinking the last of his water and letting you take the plate from him.
"I- don't really know.." You replied, stowing the things away before turning back to him. "Well no.. I just can't remember.."
"Why not?" Jack asked with a tilt of his head. "You look like you'd have quite the personality.."
"Near death experience can blanch the personality from your soul I s'pose.." You shrug, leaning back against the ships wall and crossing your arms. You watched him closely. "You definitely have had your fair share of near death experiences, how come you're still an arrogant shit?" You say flatly, making Jack laugh.
"You've got quite the mouth huh?" He smirked, his gaze flicking to your scarred lips in a much more suggestive way than before.
You were a little taken aback by his suddenness but you regained control of yourself and narrowed your eyes. "Answer my question.."
"I guess I'm just better than you.." Jack shrugged with a cocky smirk, obviously trying to rile you up. The annoying thing was, it was working. You gritted your teeth, your jaw tensing.
Jack easily picked up on that and grinned, a soft chuckle escaping him. He knew this was a dangerous game; that only made him want to play it more. It certainly solidified his reputation of the stupidly brave captain.
"You aren't better than me.." You scowled, your hands moving behind you to grip the wooden counter as he began to approach you.
"Oh but I am.." Jack smirked. "You would have killed me by now if I were anyone else in front of you.. am I special?"
The audacity he had. It made your blood boil, but nonetheless you stayed against the wall, watching him like a hawk.
"It makes me wonder.." Jack continued, moving ever closer so his body was mere inches from yours and his calloused hand reached up to cup your face. He leant up and in a little closer, his lips only centimetres from yours. "A great pirate like you.. maybe you've gone soft.. maybe you could even be a whore and-"
That word set something ablaze inside of you, a boiling pit of rage and frustration overflowing within your guts. The only thing you could think about was teaching this cocky brat a lesson. Just before he could finish the rest of his insulting sentence, before he could kiss you; you snapped.
You pushed him back, slamming him against the opposite wall and knocking the breath out of him. Before Jack could get a single word or gasp out of his mouth, you crashed your lips against his and silenced him. His eyes widened in shock before he relaxed. He attempted to bring his hands up to cup your face but you gripped his wrists and slammed them against the wall with your iron grasp. This was a lesson.
You bit down on his lower lip and squeezed his wrists tighter, earning a low whine of protest from Jack as your larger body pushed him up against the wall. Soon your hands left his wrists and he got the message, holding onto the edge of the counter lining the ships wall. Jack gripped the polished wood so hard he thought his rings would splinter the expensive timber. His breath hitched as you wrapped your hand around his neck, only needing one to pleasurably restrict his blood flow.
Heat pooled between his legs when your hand tightened around his neck, a choked whine escaping his lips as lightheaded pleasure filled his senses. You took this opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth, making his legs almost buckle. Your kisses became even more aggressive and vicious as you tasted him, pinning him roughly up against the wall. The fiery taste of rum and salt on his lips spurred you on as Jack mewled in your grasp. You were so good, it made him lose himself almost instantly. The way you squeezed his neck, how your rough fingers pressed against his arteries so he could breathe easily through his nose while you ravaged his now kiss-bitten lips.. he wanted more, oh so much more...
Jacks greed eventually got the better of him and he clawed at your free hand, trying to move it towards his hips. You growled low in your throat, warning him. He didn't listen, desperate for more pleasure as he dug his nails into your hand. You pulled away with a rough curse, gripping his dreaded locks and dragging him away from the wall and down into the next room; your quarters.
The man yelped in a pleasurable sort of pain, opening his mouth to protest. You didn't let him, throwing him down into the messy nest of furs, fabrics, and blankets that was your bed. You held Jack down on his stomach, one hand pressing down between his shoulder blades and your knee in the small of his back. Nothing could be heard except for Jacks laboured breathing, the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull, and the metallic noise of you unclasping your belt.
You dragged the thick, worn, leather strap from around your waist before wrapping his tightly around Jacks wrists. He watched as you wrapped the belt further around an iron ring connected to the wall, unable to move his hands. Now that he was restrained and laying on his stomach in your bed, you could begin his real lesson.
Jack buried his face in the fabrics, your scent making arousal rock through his body in steady waves; yet it was also weirdly comforting to him. He felt you over him, your knees on either side of his hips as you leant down to bite and kiss at his neck.
You moved his hair ever so gently to the side, your lips and teeth leaving dark hickeys all over his sweet, salty skin. Jacks breathing became heavy once more as he tried to hide this fact by muffling his face in the furs. Eventually it became too hot and Jack couldn't breathe, so he just lay his head to the side and took it; not even bothering to preserve his dignity or hide his rough pants and gasps anymore when you suckled marks onto his skin.
You were marking Jack as yours and the very thought made his hips stutter forward ever so slightly. A small whine escaped his lips and you scowled, one hand moving to pull his hips up away from the bed. Jack was now face down ass up, a humiliated blush spreading over his features as he panted. One of your hands was in his hair, tightly gripping his locks and keeping his neck exposed while you marked him. The other held his hips, keeping him pressed against your body but unable to grind down against the sheets where he needed it most.
A choked breath was pushed from Jacks lips as he realized exactly what situation he was in. You weren't going to give him any sort of pleasure. You were going to hold him up like this and mark him up until he was a pleading mess. Jack didn't want that, he was greedy for more, anything more; and you knew it.
Jacks heavy panting and gasps filled the room, occasionally breaking it up with low keening whines as you tugged his hair and marked his neck. Eventually he couldn't take this torture any longer.
"P-please.. Indulge me, I beg you.." Jack panted, swallowing and licking his lips. His own breaking, reedy voice surprised him. "Need more..."
Jack lay his head to the side as you pulled away from his neck, letting out a low groan as you squeezed his hips and silently warned him not to try and thrust back down against the bed.
You decided to treat him knowing that his stubborn greed and wants would get both of you nowhere. So instead of taking away what he wanted, you would give it to him. Oh yes you would, you would give him what he wanted until he was a squirming, moaning mess just pleading for you to stop.
Jack practically melted in your grasp once more as your hot mouth came in contact with the sensitive skin of his neck. Your sharp teeth grazed over the fresh bruises, your tongue gliding over their wake.
The sensation distracted his attention long enough for you to slip your large, rough hands into the soft cotton fabric of his pants. the low whine echoing in his throat turned into a strangled moan as your hand wrapped around his stiff, leaking shaft.
He buried his face in the furs once more, his hips trembling as your mouth continued to work at his neck and your hand tightened around his cock. Jack could feel himself dripping into your tight fist as he bit down on the thick wool of a blanket, his eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy. Nonetheless, he remained obedient and kept his hips as still as possible while your hand worked him into oblivion.
#dom reader#sub character#sub captain jack sparrow#sub jack sparrow#sub pirates of the carribean#pirates of the caribbean#potc#potc headcanons#sub potc#unfinished work#mino chats //
174 notes
·
View notes
Note
Oooooh~ just imagine, once Wukong realizes (and finally accepts) his feelings towards Reader..
He just gradually (and subconsciously) starts trying to Woo her! 😆 doing little things like hunting for the best food MEAT to show he’s capable of providing for her as a Mate, being an✨EXTRA✨show-off when taking down Demons, and protecting the group.. Randomly grabbing her✨princess style✨whenever he sees even the vaguest opportunity to do so. Not to mention all the Demon courting rituals involved..
(Plus of course Sandy’s LIVING THE DREAM!! Egging him on ALLLL the way, like “Oh, I heard elder Sister say she wished to eat (Insert desired Meat here) today..” Because by buddha, he WIlL see his OTP become Canon! DAMN IT!!)
And if Pigsy tries to sabotage Wukong’s endeavors to be Reader’s Mate.. Then.. ~Oh my, would you look at that, for some strange reason Sandy has Pigsy all hogtied~
🎃~
Tripitaka: Please stop you’re supposed to be Buddhist!😭😭😭
Omg Wukong was already a menace when it came to precious items but gods is it so much worse now. He’s in full blown courting demon brain now. Him seeing anything shiny or soft is far to much for his sweet little impulsive monkey brain to handle. He’s stealing from any thief he comes into contact with now and just hiding the bodies instead of trying to negotiate with them. And when Tripitaka and Reader ask where and how he got all this stuff he just says he bought it or traded for it but that’s not ANY better to them because the others know he doesn’t have any money or anything to trade so that would mean that he’s been using his fur to make his own money which is illegal.
But he can’t help it! Every single cell in his body is telling him to woo his potential mate and it’s to the point that his demon instincts are tell him to just steal her away to Flower Fruit Mountain where he can properly shower her in all his treasures like the queen he intends to make her.😌😌
Also Wukong when learns that Pigsy would dare stand in his way of wooing his mate:
#🎃 anon#skittle answers#isekai'd to the west#jttw sun wukong x reader#sun wukong x reader#wukong x reader#monkey king x reader#journey to the west x reader#jttw x reader
748 notes
·
View notes
Text
I wanna makeout with Denji so bad my brain is going to melt
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sarcean and his paramores 🫣💕
The lady and
Sandy make an appearance👀✨
When I was thinking about the lady, somebody made a comment saying she looks like neo queen serenity, and I can confirm that is exactly what I was going for!! 🥹🤝🏻💫🌙 I was thinking of a soft,mystic nymph like beauty
When I was thinking about sandy , I thought his hair and armory would look more like platinum color.
Vs anharion who is royal blue and gold, and then post collar - red and gold scheme
Dark heir Spoiler/ comments
I just wanna talk about sandy his story is so sad to me ( even though he does annoy me sometimes) imagine being so head over heels with that sweet youthful naivety and innocence, being in love with someone who only saw you was a fun way to passtime.
Aka one sided situationship.
And then of course, war and losing everything and everyone you love. And the only reason why he sought after you this because you bare faint resemblance to his true love OUCH MY HEART.
Plus, he’s very petty and spiteful, holding grudges forever. He has to be a Leo 👀
94 notes
·
View notes
Note
Your newest comic looks amazing! Can’t wait for part 2 ❤️
Quick question, is this set after the MC incident? (I won’t sure if it was after the journey since Wukong still had the circlet) What happened to Sophie’s hand?
Thank you so much! Part 2 will be the final for this comic! :D
Sophie's incident with her arm happened before MC appears!
What happened is that she got injured. Her arm twisted badly and the gang was in the middle of nowhere. At that moment they had a little panic. Well honestly Pigsy, Tripitaka, and Sophie were the ones to panic when Sandy pointed out that it will take time to heal but if Sophie continues the journey it will be difficult. Might slow them down a bit. So Wukong in his own shitty way proposes that Sophie would rest at the Flowers and Fruit Mountain until she is healed up.
"She will slow us down and she can't do anything when her arm is fucked".
Obviously, Sophie tried to protest but even Tripitaka agrees that Sophie will be safer and that if there are people to take care of her thing will be fine. They don't have to bother other Gods to ask for help, again.
So Wukong takes Sophie to his home and says to Rin Rin and Marshal Liu to take care of her bc she is a guest. Sophie will actually stay a few months with the monkeys until MC appears. That's why she doesn't feel pain anymore so her healing is almost completed! ✨
Edit: I forgot to mention that during Sophie's recovery from her earlier state, Wukong comes to check on her before he goes back to the gang! Just to inform them how her healing process is doing.
103 notes
·
View notes
Text
✨ Mack's Stranger Things Fic List ✨
✨ Most Recent Work:
for all the pretty mouths and pretty words | 5.4k | steddie
Eddie snags both drinks with a thanks to the bartender and turns to head back towards Steve. Things have been going well, things have been going really well — not even that rocky start could put a wrench into things, and the note they left off on before Eddie slipped away was promising. Eddie is eager to see where the rest of the night will take them. He has high hopes.
But, as Eddie is intimately familiar with, highs are not meant to last, and hopes are easy to lose.
Things, meet wrench.
He makes it three steps when his stride stutters because — oh. That’s. That’s Steve, with a girl. A pretty girl. With short, sandy brown hair and freckles. It’s the same pretty girl Eddie had seen with him earlier. The one he’d thought, for a second, might be Steve’s girlfriend. He’d let himself hope she wasn’t, when he first approached, and let himself start to actually believe it when he’d tried his hand at flirting and Steve had flirted back.
But now...
Now Eddie’s not so sure.
Or, the one where Steve puts his foot in his pretty mouth and Eddie pays the price. Featuring: cherry stems, half smoked cigarettes, and the world's biggest misunderstanding.
✨ Completed Works (below the cut):
the privilege of being yours | 3.1k | steddie
“What do you think?” Eddie asks, grinning.
“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughs, already reaching for Eddie’s ankle. He curls his fingers around it and gives it a tug, beckoning Eddie closer. “They’re perfect, you’re perfect. I love them,” he adds, as Eddie scooches into his space.
Steve cups both of his hands to Eddie’s face and kisses him right on the center of his mouth. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he says.
The kiss turns into something else as Eddie’s lips split against Steve’s, and he murmurs back against them, “I can’t wait to marry you.”
When they break apart, Steve taps Eddie’s knee. “Okay, where’s the rest of your sense of tradition? I showed you mine, you show me yours now.”
“Oh, I’ll show you tradition alright,” Eddie responds, and he reaches for his left sleeve.
Or, the one where Steve and Eddie share a rooftop, beloved traditions, and so much love.
✨
hold your breath and just dive right in | 4.5k | steddie
“Come on, man, what are you waiting for?” Steve calls, several feet out from the shore where he’s treading water with a perfect, practiced ease. Fucking show off. “An invitation?”
“Ha ha,” Eddie shouts back, deadpan. He makes no movement towards the water, though. Just digs his toes into the sand and wiggles them, watching the tiny grains spill into the spaces between and swallow his feet.
He glances up to stare out at the lake, and his stomach roils uneasily at its vastness. The other end is visible from where he stands, but it still seems so far away. They’re nowhere near the middle either, and even Steve isn’t that far out. It still makes Eddie nervous.
The funny thing is, it isn’t even his recent experiences with Lover’s Lake that’s putting this horrible feeling in his gut. Well, okay, maybe it is a little bit. But mostly, it’s because Eddie already didn’t like the water before that. He’s never been a fan.
Because Eddie Munson does not know how to swim.
Or, the one where Eddie Munson does not know how to swim, and Steve Harrington is nothing if not the perfect teacher.
✨
keep me on a rope | 6.6k | steddie, unrequited stommy
Tommy wipes his palms against the side of his jeans and squeezes through the crowd, never once taking his eyes off of Steve as he makes a beeline right for him.
He’s a couple feet away, gearing up to call out his greeting when someone else beats him to it and sidles up to Steve. They touch Steve, putting their palm low on his waist, half tucked up under his blazer. It’s an intimate touch, an almost possessive one in a very casual sort of way.
Tommy freezes in his tracks.
Steve perks up in the presence of his new company, back straightening and body turning into theirs — receptive, familiar.
He tilts his head, just enough that Tommy can see the smile gracing his lips, the softness in his eyes, and the other person dips their own chin, leaning in to whisper something into Steve’s ear. Their curtain of hair sways forward, brushing against Steve’s collar, and Steve reaches up to tuck it behind their ear, giving Tommy a clear view of—
Of Eddie Munson.
Or, Tommy Hagan attends his ten year high school reunion hoping for one thing, and leaves with something else entirely.
✨
trippin stumbling flippin fumbling | 5k | steddie
“Don’t be such a coward,” Eddie tells himself. “Fucking— go.”
His body doesn’t move. Not even an inch. His ass stays glued to his seat, his feet firmly planted on the floor. His hands don’t leave ten and two.
“God dammit,” Eddie groans, dropping his forehead down to the wheel.
Except — he underestimates the distance, and rather than pressing into the top of the wheel between his hands, his forehead smacks squarely into the center of the horn.
He jerks back so fast he gives himself whiplash, but the damage is done. There is no taking back the short, sharp, loud honk that emits from the bowels of his traitorous van.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit,” Eddie hisses, eyes going wider than the moon hanging in the sky tonight.
He immediately slouches in his seat, sinking down as low as he can go. But it’s too late. He’s caught Steve and Robin’s attention now, and despite parking off to the side and a little further back, his set of wheels is unmistakable.
They’ve seen him. He can’t leave now. He has no choice but to go inside.
✨
when i turn out the lights | 1.8k | stommy
Steve tells everyone who asks him hat his first kiss was Sheila Anderson when he was fifteen years old.
But, really, that's not true.
It was Tommy Hagan. When he was fourteen.
Or, the one that tells the real story of Steve Harrington's first kiss.
✨
love grows (where my rosemary goes) | 3.2k | steddie
“Do you know you have, like, a trillion freckles on your face?” Steve asks right back, leaning in. His left hand winds itself around the strap of Eddie’s overalls, pulling him in too, and the right one catches Eddie’s jaw. It’s cold from his own lemonade glass, abandoned somewhere by his feet, and his thumb sweeps over the bridge of Eddie’s nose, the apples of his cheeks. Doubles back to tap the single freckle that sits right on the tip.
It’s true — Eddie does have freckles. Maybe not a trillion, but when the sun peeks out from behind the clouds like today and becomes a more permanent resident in the sky, those pesky little polka dots like to make their appearance, painting his face in faint faint dusting. They’re not obvious or anything; nobody really notices them unless they’re looking for them.
But that’s the thing about Steve. He’s always looking. Always seeing.
It’s why Eddie loves him so much.
It’s why — oh. He loves him.
✨
the strength to let it show | 3.2k | steddie
Steve keeps his voice quiet enough as he sings now, not wanting to disturb the masses just one room over, but it’s still loud enough for him to get a little lost in it. He matches the strokes of his sponge with the tune he’s singing and even starts to wiggle his hips along. It’s hard not to want to dance to this one — Bennie and the Jets, because it came on the radio in the car while he was making his rounds to pick up the kids, and it’s been stuck in his head ever since.
Most of the dishes are clean now, so all that’s left is the silverware. The casserole dish was the last of the major pieces. Steve’s just finishing rinsing it, letting the excess water sluice off the sides before he sets it on the kitchen island with the other plates waiting to be dried.
In the process of turning, two things happen at once:
1. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back as he belts out the chorus, “She’s got electric boots, a mohair suit, you know I read it in a magazine, oh. B-b-b-bennie and the jets!”
2. His eyes fly back open to land right on Eddie. where he stands in the doorway — no, leans in the doorway, like he’s been there a while, like he’s gotten comfortable.
So, the thing is, Steve likes Eddie.
As in, he kind of wants to date him. And to kiss him. And to be his boyfriend.
But, he also doesn’t want to tell him that. Not in so many words, anyways. Those have never been Steve’s strong suit, words. He always messes them up. Never picks the right ones, always ends up sticking his foot in his mouth. The thought of sitting Eddie down and making some big… confession is mildly (extraordinarily) terrifying. Big speeches and grand declarations usually are — don’t let the romcoms and the chick flicks fool you. They’re never as easy as they look.
He doesn’t not want to tell Eddie, though, either. So it’s… well, it’s a tricky situation.
Until Robin, brilliant brainy genius Robin, suggests that instead of telling him, he should just show him instead. That way Steve can avoid the dramatic deliverances and still get his point across, just in a way that’s comfortable for him. On his own time. At his own pace. He can gradually show his hand, can drop hint after hint until Eddie gets it (and Robin is confident that he will in no time at all).
So Steve does.
✨
shake it loose together | 6.3k | steddie
Steve keeps his voice quiet enough as he sings now, not wanting to disturb the masses just one room over, but it’s still loud enough for him to get a little lost in it. He matches the strokes of his sponge with the tune he’s singing and even starts to wiggle his hips along. It’s hard not to want to dance to this one — Bennie and the Jets, because it came on the radio in the car while he was making his rounds to pick up the kids, and it’s been stuck in his head ever since.
Most of the dishes are clean now, so all that’s left is the silverware. The casserole dish was the last of the major pieces. Steve’s just finishing rinsing it, letting the excess water sluice off the sides before he sets it on the kitchen island with the other plates waiting to be dried.
In the process of turning, two things happen at once:
1. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back as he belts out the chorus, “She’s got electric boots, a mohair suit, you know I read it in a magazine, oh. B-b-b-bennie and the jets!”
2. His eyes fly back open to land right on Eddie. where he stands in the doorway — no, leans in the doorway, like he’s been there a while, like he’s gotten comfortable.
✨
to my heart i must be true | 14.4k | steddie
Robin starts to smile, this big, evil grin that unfurls slowly across her face, and oh. Oh no. That’s not good. That’s never good. That always means trouble.
Robin sticks her hands on her hips and juts her chin out at Steve. “I bet I can get a Valentine’s date before you can,” she says, all arrogance.
Dustin and Lucas oooh at her fighting words, then turn to Steve for his rebuttal.
“Robin, Robin, are you sure you want to do that?” He asks, standing to his full height. His shoulders roll back, and he feels the patented Harrington Charm flooding back through his body like a switch has been flipped.
“Absolutely certain,” Robin replies, not backing down. She holds out her hand.
Steve shakes his head at her, then lets an easy, confident smile curl his mouth. “You’re gonna regret that,” he says, then smacks his palm into hers, “but you’re on.”
In which a bet is made, Steve’s prowess shines until it doesn’t, and sometimes things don’t end up the way they’re planned.
Sometimes, they end up better.
✨
i was thinking maybe i could lay beside you | 3k | steddie
Their room is the last door on the right, just like Joyce told them.
Eddie pushes inside first, immediately flicking the lights on. He spots their bags in the corner and beelines straight for them.
Steve, on the other hand, freezes in the doorway.
Because, oh. Oh.
There’s only one bed.
Which — Steve doesn’t know why this surprises him. This isn’t a hotel. It’s a guest room at a friend’s house. Of course it’s not going to have two beds in one room. He doesn’t know why he was expecting that.
But it’s — it’s fine. This is cool. He can share a bed for the night. He’s shared lots of beds in his day. There’s nothing different about this time.
Except that there is because he doesn’t have to share with just anybody. He has to share with Eddie.
Eddie, who hasn’t even batted an eye at the bed situation. Eddie, who seems cool as a cucumber about it. Eddie, who—
Who’s already shucked his shirt off and has his thumbs hooked into his sweats, about to tug those off too, and jesus fucking christ, Steve can’t do this. He cannot do this.
✨
in all your blame, in all your pain | 2.4k | steddie
When Eddie had gotten dragged headfirst into this alternate hellscape dimension, DnD monsters-come-to-life nightmare shitshow, no one told him that by the end of it he’d be offering himself up as bat bait to do his part in putting an end to it all.
No one told him that he’d wind up mangled and shredded and torn apart, but still, somehow, alive.
No one told him that he’d be bedridden for months afterwards, as his body stitched itself back together. That some days would be painful at best, while others would be downright excruciating. That he’d barely be able to walk at first, or bathe himself, or even eat on his own.
No one told him that healing would be the most grueling part of it all.
But those were all things that Eddie could get over. Things that, with time, he could forgive. After all, it’s not like anyone had known that that’s how it was going to play out.
What Eddie could not forgive, however, was the fact that no one, not one single member of their rather large, rather extensive party had told him just how much Steve god damn Harrington loved to play Florence fucking Nightingale in the aftermath.
✨
come and rest your bones with me | 2.6k | steddie
“We’re making a fort.”
Steve is barely even halfway through the door when he is accosted with the declaration. His slick raincoat is still zipped up, his wet umbrella still wide open and dripping onto the porch behind him.
“What?” He asks, fumbling to close the umbrella and shake it out before a stack of blankets are being shoved into his arms.
“We are making a fort,” Eddie repeats, grinning at Steve. He’s got his own heap of blankets bundled against his chest, and when Steve glances past his shoulder he can see that the bones of said fort are already mostly established — Wayne’s armchair has already been moved from its cozy corner of the room to now sit directly across from the couch, and the coffee table has been pushed to the side so as to not be a nuisance to the building process.
And, well, it sounds like a lot of fun, actually.
“Yeah, sure, alright,” Steve replies with a huff of a laugh.
✨
hash brown, egg yolk (i will always love you) | 2.8k | steddie
Six months is a long time to be apart. A long time to go without seeing Eddie in the flesh. Without hearing his laugh, low and melodic, right against the shell of his ear. Without hugging Eddie around the middle and hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder while he stands at the stove and pushes something delicious around a pan. Without kissing Eddie.
But so is the way of being married to a hotshot musician with a band that has more than made it big.
Because that's what Eddie is. And, god, Steve couldn’t be more proud.
Even if it does mean that sometimes he and Eddie have to go long stretches of time without seeing each other.
But that doesn’t matter anymore. Because Eddie is home now, and he’s going to be home for a while. Corroded Coffin just wrapped up the European leg of their tour (“Fucking Europe, Stevie! Can you believe it!”) and they’ve been given a month before their North American leg is set to start. A whole entire month that Eddie already promised he will be spending at home with Steve.
Starting today.
✨
stuck to the gum that's stuck on your shoe | 2.1k | platonic stobin
“Talk to me, Steve,” Robin says, “please.”
And now she sounds upset, and that makes Steve feel even worse.
He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to make Robin feel bad. She’s been so excited ever since she got that letter in the mail, going on and on about the linguistics program she’d been accepted into, about the campus and how gorgeous it is, about the surrounding city and how much there is to do there.
Steve doesn’t want to rain on that parade more than he already has.
But he knows that she’s going to wheedle it out of him eventually. Might as well rip the bandaid off now.
He can barely bring himself to say it. It hurts too much to acknowledge. But he does, because he has to. Because he will have to.
“You— you got into college, Rob. You’re going to leave,” Steve finally tells her. Whispers, because if he says it too loud he thinks he might break again.
“Oh, Steve,” Robin breathes.
✨
i wish i knew how (your eyes are like starlight now) | 10.6k | steddie
“Mistletoe!” Robin cheers, and Steve’s heart stutters so hard in his chest that he thinks it might crack his ribcage and drop right out the bottom of his stomach.
His eyes fly up, and, sure enough, there hangs one of the many sprigs hung all around the apartment. Small and inconspicuous, but unmistakable. That ridiculous little plant has no idea that it’s just turned Steve’s entire world on its axis.
Across from him, Eddie’s eyes are trained up too, big and round and wide where they stick on the mistletoe. His lips are parted in surprise, and Steve can’t help but stare and think am I going to kiss those now?
When Eddie finally tears his gaze from the plant and lets it flicker down to Steve, a pretty pink dusting blooms across the bridge of his nose and spreads into the apples of his cheeks when he finds Steve already looking back.
Steve spares the mistletoe one last quick peek before he takes a deep breath and steels himself. This is it. He sticks his hands on his hips, aiming for casual, and asks, “What do you say, Munson?”
Or, Steve makes a promise, Robin likes to meddle, and the spirit of Christmas strikes (out) again. And again. And again.
(Until it doesn’t.)
✨
under my umbrella | 5.8k | steddie
Steve sidles up to the bench. Munson stands at the other end of it, arms crossed tightly over his chest, glaring out at the street as if that will make the bus show up any quicker. His bangs are flat against his forehead, the rest of his long hair lank and wet over his shoulders.
He looks like a drowned cat.
So Steve holds out his umbrella. Tilts his chin and raises his eyebrows at Munson as an invitation to step under and get out of the rain.
Munson looks at the umbrella for less than a second before he turns back towards the street with a scoff. “No thanks,” he says. “I’m good.”
“Dude,” Steve says, dumbfounded.
“Dude,” Munson parrots mockingly.
“You’re really going to turn down my umbrella?” Steve asks, still holding it out.
“I really am,” Munson replies, showing all of his teeth in a rancorous smile. “Now if you don’t mind,” he adds, taking a large step forward, closer to the curb and further from Steve.
Steve lets out an indignant huff and pulls his umbrella back to himself. Only just refrains from muttering an unsavory name under his breath because he’s a good person now.
Whatever. Let Munson get soaked. Let him freeze.
✨
temptations of trouble | 2.8k | steddie
Eddie ignores the flip flopping in his stomach as he meets Steve’s gaze and fits his palms to either side of Steve’s jaw. Cradles his face like he’s something special now. (Because he is.)
And then he leans in to kiss him. Right on those pretty pink lips of his.
It’s short and sweet like it always is, but when Eddie pulls back and opens his eyes, he’s met with Steve’s, wide as fucking saucers, goggling unblinkingly back at him. He can feel Robin’s stare boring into the side of his face, can feel the tiny pinpricks of Nancy’s and Jonathan’s and Argyle’s on his back too. The whole room is quiet enough to hear a god damn pin drop.
Eddie is about to open his mouth and ask what the hell that’s all about when it finally catches up with him.
He just fucking kissed Steve fucking Harrington. On the mouth.
✨
waving down the wind | 10.3k | steddie
Eddie furrows his brows, and he’s about to ask Steve what he did come over here for, when Steve starts to shrug out of his jacket. Rolls his shoulders back and lets it slide down his upper arms.
“I came over here,” Steve starts, and he gives his arm a shake when the sleeve gets caught around his elbow. Once it’s off, he bunches his fist into the fabric of the collar. “To give you this,” he finishes and holds out the coat.
Eddie blinks down at it. Then he looks back up at Steve. “What?”
Or, three times Eddie looks cold and Steve does something about it, and one time he’s toasty warm.
✨
the world will follow after | 2.6k | steddie
Another glance at the clock and Steve really has to leave now. He barely has time to shove the piece of toast Eddie, so graciously, made for him (crisp, but not too crunchy, and definitely not burnt, with just the right amount of butter spread thin across the top) into his mouth before he’s running towards the door.
He’s about two steps away from it, hand already reaching for the knob, when Eddie catches him. He gives Steve's shoulders a squeeze, then spins Steve around and reaches for his collar next, fussing with it until it’s straightened and flat. He pats Steve twice on the chest and gives him a smile.
“All set now,” he says. Then, “have a nice day at work.”
Steve, at the complete whim of his scrambled brain, smiles back, tells Eddie thanks, glances at his watch, curses under his breath, then leans in to kiss Eddie goodbye.
Then, just as quickly, he’s out the door and in his car and finally on his way to work.
It isn’t until he’s halfway there that it hits him what he’s just done.
He kissed Eddie Munson.
✨
from this moment on | 3.9k | steddie
Steve bought the ring a year after they started dating.
It was too soon, way too soon, even if everything they’d been through made it feel like they’d known each other, like they’d been in each other’s corners for forever. One year was entirely too early to be putting marriage on the table, especially when they were still so young. Not to mention, Steve knew that Eddie had a rocky relationship with the concept thanks to his parents, and, truth be told, so did Steve.
But none of that really mattered. Because Steve was that in love. He was that sure of them.
So he bought the ring. Without hesitation.
And he held onto it, for all this time. He’d had a gut feeling, back in 1988. And eight years later it’s still there. Still there and stronger than ever.
✨
can't hide the way you make us glow | 6.3k | steddie
“So,” Wayne finally says and looks between them. He gestures his can from Steve to Eddie and back. “Still just friends, huh?” He deadpans.
Steve chokes on his sip of beer, and a grin cracks across Eddie’s face.
“To the general public of Hawkins, sure,” Eddie responds smoothly, hand absentmindedly rubbing Steve’s back as he recovers.
Wayne narrows his eyes at him. “I ain’t the general public of Hawkins, now, am I?”
Eddie shakes his head. “No, I suppose not.”
When he doesn’t elaborate any further, Wayne lifts his eyebrows expectantly. Out with it, boy they say. He barely refrains from waving his hand in a go on then motion.
“Steve and I… we’re, uh,” Eddie’s smile turns soft around the edges, and his hand goes to Steve’s beside him, drawing it into his lap and lacing their fingers together, “we’re going steady now.”
Or, Wayne finds out that Eddie and Steve are EddieandSteve.
✨
good for my boy | 7.4k | steddie
Wayne lets the front door swing shut behind him, rattling and smacking into the frame audibly.
“Jesus, Munson!” A voice rings out — the freezer fiend’s, and definitely not Eddie’s. “Took you god damn long enough!” The head finally pops out of the freezer. “I got tired of waiting and — oh.”
The stranger’s hand slips from the handle and the freezer door thumps shut. As does the stranger’s mouth when he looks right into the face of, not Eddie Munson as expected, but Wayne Munson.
Wayne briefly recognizes him as the Harrington boy.
or, the first time Wayne Munson meets Steve Harrington is a complete accident.
✨
if you have a minute | 10.6k | steddie
They pass the cigarette back and forth for a few quiet minutes. And there’s something about Eddie’s presence that’s helping just as much as the nicotine.
Eddie holds the cigarette back out for Steve, blows the smoke out in a smooth, steady stream, and tilts his head. “You working tomorrow?” He asks.
Steve shakes his head. “Not tomorrow. Why?”
Eddie pushes himself off of the wall. “Great,” he declares and grins. “We’re doing something then. You and me. I’m gonna take you somewhere.”
Steve’s face scrunches. “What? Where?”
Eddie tuts and wags his finger. “Nope, not telling you,” he says. “You’ll find out tomorrow. Meet at my place at nine. Don’t be late.”
He doesn’t give Steve a chance to argue or further question it. Just throws a little salute and turns on his heel, disappearing around the corner.
Or, the one where Steve’s anxiety doesn’t get the hint that they defeated the Upside Down, and Eddie knows just how to help.
✨
and stars, and stars, and stars | 1.5k | steddie
“What are you even painting?” Steve questions, unable to keep himself from asking. Eddie hadn’t told him his plan when he’d first laid Steve out and gathered his brushes — just instructed Steve to stay still and let him paint, he’d see soon enough. But Steve is curious, and it’s been almost an hour now.
Steve carefully tips his head to the side and presses his cheek against his folded arms, trying his best to catch a glimpse of Eddie where he sits atop the backs of Steve’s thighs, bent over his canvas in concentration. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth, like it always does when he’s focusing hard enough, and a piece of hair dangles against his cheek, escaping the bandana he’d tied it back with.
“I’m painting an essence,” Eddie answers cryptically, and he draws the brush in a broad stroke, low on Steve’s back.
“An essence?” Steve repeats. “An essence of what?”
“An essence of you,” Eddie says simply. The brush dots Steve’s upper back now, light little taps.
Steve doesn’t know what that means, but he’s looking forward to finding out.
✨
i want to hold your hand | 14k | steddie
The film isn’t even on Steve’s radar at this point. He couldn’t say what’s happening anymore, but he doesn’t even care. Forget Geena Davis, forget Jeff Goldblum, Steve can’t stop thinking about Eddie Munson, right there next to him, hand inches away from his own.
Steve’s pinky twitches out, like it’s got a mind of its own, towards Eddie’s hand. His heart is in his throat, breath caught behind it, as his pinky hovers, trembling. He could touch him. Wants to touch him. To hook his pinky over Eddie’s, curl them together, maybe even link the rest of their fingers too.
He’s never wanted to hold somebody’s hand so bad before.
✨
promise me nothing, live 'til we die | 2.9k | steddie
“You’ve seriously never had your first kiss, though?”
Eddie snorts. “Why do you sound so disbelieving? Come on, Harrington. I don’t exactly have a long line of suitors winding out my front door, vying for my hand or anything. Nobody wants to swap spit with the local freak. They might catch something.” He gives Steve a scrutinizing look. “I’m not like you, King Steve.”
“I’m not worried about catching anything from you,” Steve says.
Eddie tilts his head, perplexed. “Okay… thanks?”
Steve shakes his head. “No, I mean, if no one else wants to, I will.”
“Will what? Line up outside my door?” Eddie scoffs.
“Kiss you,” Steve says and knocks all the air out of Eddie’s chest. “I’ll do it.”
Eddie’s eyes have got to be as big as dinner plates as he blinks at Steve. “What?”
✨
harlow gold | 4k | platonic steve & nancy
Nancy is pretty sure that she could talk to Jonathan about it. He knows a little something about being the black sheep, and Nancy doesn’t think he would judge her for it. But they’d only just broken up, and while it was a mutual decision and an amicable split, she doesn’t think it would be fair to turn to him so soon after for advice about the feelings she already has for someone else.
She doesn’t have any girlfriends to talk to either. Robin is kind of the first close female friend she’s had since Barb.
And despite this budding friendship between herself and Robin, Nancy can’t turn to Robin. She’s the type to ask a lot of questions, and she doesn’t give up easily. She’ll push until she gets the answers she’s looking for. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but Nancy isn’t so sure she’s ready for that kind of inquisition. Not about this.
Which only leaves one person that Nancy trusts enough with something as delicate as this, one person whom she is comfortable enough to confide in:
Steve Harrington.
✨
sloe gin fizzy, do it till you're dizzy | 6.7k | steddie
Eddie scoots down on the bed until he’s level with Steve and turns onto his side, shifting closer in the process.
The movement draws Steve, and his head lolls to the side to see what Eddie is up to.
It brings them nearly nose to nose, and Eddie goes a little bit cross-eyed focusing on Steve.
Steve doesn’t flinch away from the closeness. Just breathes and blinks. And then his eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips and right back up, so quick that Eddie’s hazy brain would have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t been anticipating it.
Eddie takes it as the invitation it has to be, and slowly, slowly closes the distance. His nose does bump into Steve’s as he enters his space, but he pauses, hesitates with his mouth hovering a hair’s breadth away from Steve’s.
He waits for the rejection, for the brutal shove away, for the disgusted “what the fuck man?”.
But they don’t come.
What does come is Steve’s mouth, pushing forward to press against Eddie’s.
✨
it's my feeling we'll win in the end | 6.3k | steddie
Eddie thrusts his hand, fisted around the diploma, into the air like he’s god damn John Bender on the football field, and he lets out a triumphant whoop.
He hears his friends go crazy in their seats again, and when he finds them in the crowd once more he sees that Dustin has climbed up onto his chair, one hand gripping Steve’s shoulder for support while the other is pumping through the air. He’s shouting Eddie’s name, and so is Mike, who is clapping so hard his hands must hurt. Lucas and Max each are holding one corner of a sign spelling out “Eddie the Conqueror” across the center, with hand painted flames licking around the words. It makes Eddie laugh, bright and buoyant, and he shakes the diploma through the air some more.
Eddie’s chest feels tight in the best kind of way as a sudden tidal wave of emotions body slams him, clogging his throat and forcing him to take a sharp, deep breath through his nose. His nostrils flare with it, and a hysterical sort of laugh bubbles up. It’s just, he’s never been this happy before. Never been this proud. Never felt this good.
He’s smiling so big that his cheeks hurt. He feels like he’s walking on fucking air. He did it, he fucking did it.
✨
find my ficlets here
✨
transformative work policy:
fanart, podfics, translations, and any such creations based on my works are always welcome!! if you're not sure about something, just ask!
all i ask in return is that proper credit is given — using the "inspired by" function on ao3; mentioning the source material in notes; linking back to me/my works — whichever fits best with what you're doing!
and please please tag me in/send me a link to it, i LOVE to see what y'all do!! it makes my heart sing!! 💕
i do not allow my works to be reposted to any other platforms (snippets with credit and links is okay though!!)
#stranger things#steddie#platonic stobin#platonic steve & nancy#mack writes#macks ficlets#macksdramaticshenanigans fics#FINALLY sat down to make a pinned post of all my fics!!#stommy
252 notes
·
View notes
Note
Helloooo <3
I have a bunch of questions about your Shadow King au (my fav au btw), but you don't have to answer to all of them if you don't want to
1) Does Lady Bone Demon exist and if so who frees her (and what is her relationship with the monkeys)?
2) Does MK ever meet Pigsy, Tang and Sandy?
3) Does the Demon Bull family have an important role in your au?
4) Were Sun Wukong and Spider Queen exes? (I know this is a stupid question, but I'm just curious😭)
5) The most important question of all, DOES HE EVER GET TO MEET HIS BESTIE, MEI? HIS OTHER HALF? HIS LITTLE JOKESTER? AND IF THEY DO, DO THEY GET TO GO ON SILLY LITTLE ADVENTURES WITH REDSON???🥹🥹🥹
Love your art btw *devours it*
(Also I never really understood the people that said that they liked someone's art so much they wanted to eat it until I saw yours😭your art style really looks edible)
(And if you have answered those questions before, sorry I asked I've been told I have a memory if a goldfish)
First I want to say that I am about to cry, is thanks to people like you and this kind of comments that I can keep going, so I really thank you and I hope you will keep enjoying my stuff.✨💕
So…
1) the lady bone demon obviously exists, she will be freed by the spider queen.
2)obviously yes they are his uncles
3)not really, red son yes but the rest of the family is a little less important, cuz we didn’t have the all seal away demon bull king and stuff
4) no😂, to be honest i always found it a funny headcanon but for me there were other demons more suited to be wukong exes
5)yes they will, they are childhood friends
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
🔥 Embark on a journey through the sandy expanse! Israel graces the stage in Oryx-inspired splendor, adorned in brown, golden hues, and pristine white, mirroring the majestic elegance of this desert wanderer. 🏜️🦌✨ The Top 12 of #OBEYseason18 is an odyssey of seduction!
Get ready to be enraptured in the desert winds of desire! 🌪️ This all-human edition fuses AI-enhanced bodies with outfits that redefine the very essence of seduction. Faces so real, you'll question what's human and what's not! 😈🚀
Your voice, your vote - they shape destinies! 🗳️🔥 Engage with us on Instagram, Tumblr, and X. Boost the Yes votes on our Instagram stories, each Yes a thunderous applause for your favorite. Say yes to glory, subtract the no's, and let the revolution begin! 🌟
🌟 Israel - On Mekahel (@iamonmekahel) 🇮🇱 Step into the golden hues and serene white of the Oryx with On Mekahel's suit, a testament to the grace of the desert's wanderer. Are you ready to be captivated by the serene beauty and elegance of On Mekahel's Oryx-inspired attire? 🔥🏜️🌅
Don't just watch - immerse yourself in the desert dreams of Animalistic Awesomeness! 🚀✨ #AIgenerated #AnimalisticAwesomeness #SensualRevolution #OBEYseason18
28 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
dragbackyummyhoney-blog-blog
Dragback Yummy Honey
humanmorph
and there are no real people there
solvethecipher
Solve the Cipher
yoel-o-fellow
Gobliny Goodness