the big bad wolf (aka i'm writing again homg!)
Title: the big bad wolf (say goodbye to the world you thought you lived in)
Author: anoukinparis
Pairing: jongkey
Genre: au, fantasy, smut
Rating: R
Length: oneshot
Summary: i had the strangest urge to do my own twist on a fairy tale involving jongkey. my bbs ♥ so here's the final outcome, hopefully this doesn't just make sense in my head
Quick steps and candy apple lips. That’s all one might have noticed, if anyone were watching. Of course there’s a lot more to Kibum, a lot more they don’t know about, the people rushing and pushing past him in the mad dash of the city square, never once looking up at the starry Seoul lights that twinkle in the steely wilderness. They don’t know who he is or why he visits his grandma so much or the way he sometimes thinks that he’s not so much visiting as running away.
Running away from what? He doesn’t know. He couldn’t tell you.
His hood shades his downturned eyes, tart little lips parted and vulnerable to the cold clinging to the city. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and continues picking his way through the crowd, suddenly getting the urge to - but no, it’s safe. Still safe at the bottom of his book bag, the product of his mother’s overenthusiastic cooking, sweets that are just a little too sweet for Kibum.
Text me when you get there, she had fussed over his sweatshirt with a furrowed brow, the look in her eyes clearly saying he should be wearing more.
I know.
And don’t talk to any-
Bye, Mom, he had rolled his eyes good-naturedly, closing the door behind him, trying to shake off the annoyance starting to claw at his stomach, urging him forward.
Cause see, he’s eighteen. He’s fine.
How many times has he taken this path? More than eighteen times, for sure. And he always texts. And keeps to himself. And sets out on the straight and narrow. Not to mention kisses his grandmother on the cheek every time before he says goodbye. How perfect.
Only not quite because he’s getting distracted by things that normally don’t distract him. It’s getting colder somehow. He’s passing by restaurants and there’s a club with a disco ball that gleams like a full moon through the window. What he wouldn’t give for something other than what he always has at home. He watches a group of kids walk toward a bar, laughing, walking on air, and when one of them catches his gaze Kibum immediately ducks back under his hood, quickening his pace.
“Yah!”
That couldn’t be for him.
“Yah, hoodie! Where you rushing off to? If you wanna join us just ask.”
“You’re such an ass, Jonghyun.” A female voice this time. More laughter.
“What? I’m being polite, extending an invitation.” Kibum doesn’t want to look but he sees the slope of shoulders in a black coat and straight white teeth. He’s laughing, too.
“You’re scaring him.”
“No, I’m not-see.” The black coat and white teeth, Jonghyun, sounds smug now. Kibum’s face feels like it’s on fire and it only gets worse with his next statement. “He stopped walking. He’s interested.”
He honestly hadn’t noticed. But Jonghyun did.
Kibum slowly turns around to face the group. They all look around his age, maybe older, probably older with the casual loop of arms around necks and the girls’ tightly clad, magical little hips and that self-assured air he doesn’t quite understand. They’re probably all drunk. Or well on their way. He scrunches up his nose a little at the thought and his candy mouth tips down at the corners. Jonghyun thinks it’s the sweetest half-face he’s ever seen.
Cause see, he isn’t drunk at all. He just has a keen eye for things.
“Come on, warm up inside.”
“I have somewhere to go,” Kibum finally manages, stilted.
“Somewhere to go?” Jonghyun echoes back.
“Yes.”
“Somewhere else?”
“Yes,” Kibum says, frustrated.
He laughs again.
Suddenly it all sounds so lame to Kibum. It all seems so completely ridiculous. Not just right now or tonight, but everything he’s ever done, everything he appears to be, like he’s some big punch line of a joke.
“Then go where you need to go.”
Pow. Rejection in the most irrational form slaps across Kibum’s red cheeks as he stands blinking, watching Jonghyun walk up the snow-lined steps of the bar with his friends following behind him, and it only takes a few moments of hesitation (and maybe a few more, and maybe a glance around) before Kibum’s own footprints mar the snow.
Why does he go inside? He doesn’t know. He couldn’t tell you.
It’s dark and smoky, like most bars around here probably are, but he’s never been in one before so it’s strange. Kibum has a hard time adjusting to the dim lighting and that’s when he feels a hand leading him along, warm fingers pulling him inside, sitting him down.
It’s a large booth and everyone sits, joking and messing around as if some stranger hadn’t just decided to come along. Maybe they’re just ignoring him. Maybe they’re not surprised by it. Maybe Kibum is focusing on them so he won’t have to see him up close. Because even with the bad lighting and the bad nerves, Jonghyun doesn’t look like anyone else. He doesn’t even look all human. There’s just too much of everything. Too much eyes and teeth and mouth and jaw and dark, unruly hair. Too much magnetic charge and raw excess. Too much intuitive movements. No one looks that wild, and in spite of that, because of that, so incredibly attractive.
Kibum’s breath is somewhere else. Jonghyun just orders two beers and pushes one at the younger.
Kibum cautiously reaches for it, the cold glass, gaze flicking back up to see Jonghyun settling comfortably into his seat, already watching him.
“So where’d you have to go?”
Needing to do something other than being stared at, Kibum takes a taste and it’s not exactly bad but it’s not exactly good either. It leaves a strange warmth on his tongue, tickling his throat. “Why? It’s none of your business.”
“No,” Jonghyun agrees, a slow smile curving his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and if it isn’t the most delightfully feral thing you ever did see. “But I’m curious. And you’re kind of grouchy.”
Screw you. The way Jonghyun’s big eyes rake over him make the words twist perversely in Kibum’s head, before fizzing out completely.
“Well you’re an idiot, just pulling someone off the street like that.”
Even though he wasn’t actually pulled.
And he doesn’t know if Jonghyun’s an idiot or not.
“I like you,” Jonghyun says nonchalantly, tipping his glass back. As if it’s obvious. Too obvious to even be spoken.
And then - “Do you like me?” It’s that same amused tone from outside, a hand nudging the book bag strap until it’s slipping off his shoulders and Kibum doesn’t know if he hates Jonghyun or something else.
“I was going to my grandma’s.”
“Ahh. Is she sick?”
“No.” Kibum takes another drink, his lips are wet, slick candy apple. “I just like visiting. Better than…she just likes the company.”
“So everyone wins then?”
All at once, Kibum remembers where he is. He’s in a bar, drinking something unfamiliar, and talking to a stranger who may or may not be the kind of strange creature lurking in his mother’s oh so motherly fears. He remembers he’s not on his way to see his grandma, he’s not doing what he’s supposed to be doing, and he’s going to get into a hell of a lot of trouble if he doesn’t get up and leave right now.
But he doesn’t get up and leave. Not right now. Not five minutes later. It’ll take a good hour for that to happen, and by that time, none of those things will really matter anymore. And the sweets will be left to rot.
Jonghyun is watching and Kibum is watching him watch, still underneath his hood.
Prying in.
Peeking out.
“Yeah,” he says. “Everyone wins.”
Who knows what anyone would have assumed had one noticed them slipping out of the booth and into a back alley track together, clicking their tongue, judging. For good reasons, no doubt. But they’re not that different, you see. Underneath the clothes and flesh, there’s want. It’s all want.
There, in the bathroom of the bar, scrambling against Kibum’s ribcage as he watches the other casually advance. There’s a leaky faucet in a filthy looking sink, a tiled wall against his back, there’s a lock that Jonghyun does in fact lock, all without taking his eyes off of Kibum. He unleashes him from the hood. It happens so smooth and slow and now Kibum can feel his hot breath bathing his cheek. He curls into the wall, his face in profile so it’ll fall on his ear instead, the slope of his neck, and his mouth barely parts in silent desperation.
Jonghyun brushes a thumb across his lower lip and back. Plump and trembling and ripe to the touch.
And just so red. So, so pretty.
“Your hands are really warm,” Kibum’s eyes are hooded and his voice is no more than a stumble of syllables but it’s something he’s been puzzling over all night, something drifting in and out of his hazy mind.
An indulgent thumb peeks in between the seam of his lips. Just once. “Better for touching.”
“Your eyes-” Somehow they’re even darker, alive with some kind of force, and Kibum’s sure he’s going absolutely mental right now. Insane. Delusional. He feels different underneath that gaze.
“Better for seeing.” There’s an arm sliding around his waist, bringing their bodies together and maybe that’s the force. An ache for closer and closer still and yet it hovers in front of Kibum cruelly, simply breathing against his skin.
“Your mouth…”
Better for all kinds of things. Kissing Kibum’s pretty parted mouth and sucking on the sweetness until he hears his own surprised moan echoing back at him, rising and falling on the tiled walls like unsteady limbs, like shaking knees. Better for biting, tasting, nibbling, consuming his fill of skin, burying into Kibum’s neck until the younger is literally dizzy from the pleasant pressure of teeth and tongue. He squirms when Jonghyun mouths down his throat, lapping against his racing pulse. The bathroom falls into shadow, but his body becomes electric. It’s hotter underneath Jonghyun’s tongue, unimaginably so, unbearably so.
Kibum wrenches him away. The force of his shove stuns him for a moment, but it doesn’t seem to faze Jonghyun, who just eases into a loose smirk, the sleeves of his black T-shirt crumpled from too tight fists, exposing toned arms Kibum can still feel around his waist. The older reaches and peels the shirt straight off of his back, making quick work of the belt on his jeans and Kibum doesn’t know how he became the one to coax his mouth back to him.
They’re pawing at his own clothes now, squeezing his ass underneath tight jeans. So red and defiled, those lips. Those lips that start biting back.
Want beating heart. Want pulling and tugging his limbs, stretching him taut across the sink countertop and it’s like dirt underneath his chest but bliss between his thighs, Jonghyun’s mouth better for fucking him. Better for tonguing and laving, forcing him open. Kibum struggles to stay on his toes. He’s scraping metal and it’s not so silent anymore.
All those scratchy little sounds and throaty little whimpers are just appetizers. The hunger wants more.
Pound pound alive alive with want for that wolfish grin to devour him whole.
Kibum’s eighteen. He’s fine. He’s taken in the bathroom of a bar for the first time while the world has its eyes closed.
“Tell me your name,” Jonghyun says when Kibum is still coming down from one of the many highs, relentless and pounding in his blood stream. His thrusts slow to the rhythm of his breath on Kibum’s ear and suddenly it all becomes as focused and clear and minute as that. And his eyes? Open.
“Hoodie, remember?”
Kibum can feel the hum of a grin against his neck, grip tightening.
“With somewhere else to be.”
“Let me call so I can say I’ll be a little late.” It’s pointed enough and with that mouth the words sound so deliciously sweet to Jonghyun’s ear, anyway. Kibum slips out of his hold and redresses himself, telling him to stay and wait for him. His cell phone is in his book bag, back at the booth with the friends. He thieves one last kiss before pulling away and discreetly closing the door behind him, not looking once over his shoulder.
He grabs his book bag from the booth and waves goodbye to the people he doesn’t know, who stare back rather shocked. It’s the first time they ever really get a good look at him, as he’s half-way out the door to the bar, already long gone from their night. Kibum’s steps are light as he continues on his way, unhurried. Satisfied. There’s no need to run.
He does call to say he’ll be a little late. He apologizes to his grandma and texts his mother the moment he crosses the familiar steps, then promptly turns the device off.
How are you? His grandma had asked as he shrugged off the snow on his shoes and he’s fine, just fine, he reassures her. He came out of the wilderness unscathed, alive and well. Perfect.
He explains to his grandma that he accidentally left the sweets at home. No one’s heartbroken. And it’s just as well. She’s already busying herself in the kitchen, muttering to pans and poking about cabinets, beginning to fix something. She calls out to the lounging figure in the living room.
You must be starving after all this time, hm?
And Kibum just wears a wolfish smile.
Author: anoukinparis
Pairing: jongkey
Genre: au, fantasy, smut
Rating: R
Length: oneshot
Summary: i had the strangest urge to do my own twist on a fairy tale involving jongkey. my bbs ♥ so here's the final outcome, hopefully this doesn't just make sense in my head
Quick steps and candy apple lips. That’s all one might have noticed, if anyone were watching. Of course there’s a lot more to Kibum, a lot more they don’t know about, the people rushing and pushing past him in the mad dash of the city square, never once looking up at the starry Seoul lights that twinkle in the steely wilderness. They don’t know who he is or why he visits his grandma so much or the way he sometimes thinks that he’s not so much visiting as running away.
Running away from what? He doesn’t know. He couldn’t tell you.
His hood shades his downturned eyes, tart little lips parted and vulnerable to the cold clinging to the city. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and continues picking his way through the crowd, suddenly getting the urge to - but no, it’s safe. Still safe at the bottom of his book bag, the product of his mother’s overenthusiastic cooking, sweets that are just a little too sweet for Kibum.
Text me when you get there, she had fussed over his sweatshirt with a furrowed brow, the look in her eyes clearly saying he should be wearing more.
I know.
And don’t talk to any-
Bye, Mom, he had rolled his eyes good-naturedly, closing the door behind him, trying to shake off the annoyance starting to claw at his stomach, urging him forward.
Cause see, he’s eighteen. He’s fine.
How many times has he taken this path? More than eighteen times, for sure. And he always texts. And keeps to himself. And sets out on the straight and narrow. Not to mention kisses his grandmother on the cheek every time before he says goodbye. How perfect.
Only not quite because he’s getting distracted by things that normally don’t distract him. It’s getting colder somehow. He’s passing by restaurants and there’s a club with a disco ball that gleams like a full moon through the window. What he wouldn’t give for something other than what he always has at home. He watches a group of kids walk toward a bar, laughing, walking on air, and when one of them catches his gaze Kibum immediately ducks back under his hood, quickening his pace.
“Yah!”
That couldn’t be for him.
“Yah, hoodie! Where you rushing off to? If you wanna join us just ask.”
“You’re such an ass, Jonghyun.” A female voice this time. More laughter.
“What? I’m being polite, extending an invitation.” Kibum doesn’t want to look but he sees the slope of shoulders in a black coat and straight white teeth. He’s laughing, too.
“You’re scaring him.”
“No, I’m not-see.” The black coat and white teeth, Jonghyun, sounds smug now. Kibum’s face feels like it’s on fire and it only gets worse with his next statement. “He stopped walking. He’s interested.”
He honestly hadn’t noticed. But Jonghyun did.
Kibum slowly turns around to face the group. They all look around his age, maybe older, probably older with the casual loop of arms around necks and the girls’ tightly clad, magical little hips and that self-assured air he doesn’t quite understand. They’re probably all drunk. Or well on their way. He scrunches up his nose a little at the thought and his candy mouth tips down at the corners. Jonghyun thinks it’s the sweetest half-face he’s ever seen.
Cause see, he isn’t drunk at all. He just has a keen eye for things.
“Come on, warm up inside.”
“I have somewhere to go,” Kibum finally manages, stilted.
“Somewhere to go?” Jonghyun echoes back.
“Yes.”
“Somewhere else?”
“Yes,” Kibum says, frustrated.
He laughs again.
Suddenly it all sounds so lame to Kibum. It all seems so completely ridiculous. Not just right now or tonight, but everything he’s ever done, everything he appears to be, like he’s some big punch line of a joke.
“Then go where you need to go.”
Pow. Rejection in the most irrational form slaps across Kibum’s red cheeks as he stands blinking, watching Jonghyun walk up the snow-lined steps of the bar with his friends following behind him, and it only takes a few moments of hesitation (and maybe a few more, and maybe a glance around) before Kibum’s own footprints mar the snow.
Why does he go inside? He doesn’t know. He couldn’t tell you.
It’s dark and smoky, like most bars around here probably are, but he’s never been in one before so it’s strange. Kibum has a hard time adjusting to the dim lighting and that’s when he feels a hand leading him along, warm fingers pulling him inside, sitting him down.
It’s a large booth and everyone sits, joking and messing around as if some stranger hadn’t just decided to come along. Maybe they’re just ignoring him. Maybe they’re not surprised by it. Maybe Kibum is focusing on them so he won’t have to see him up close. Because even with the bad lighting and the bad nerves, Jonghyun doesn’t look like anyone else. He doesn’t even look all human. There’s just too much of everything. Too much eyes and teeth and mouth and jaw and dark, unruly hair. Too much magnetic charge and raw excess. Too much intuitive movements. No one looks that wild, and in spite of that, because of that, so incredibly attractive.
Kibum’s breath is somewhere else. Jonghyun just orders two beers and pushes one at the younger.
Kibum cautiously reaches for it, the cold glass, gaze flicking back up to see Jonghyun settling comfortably into his seat, already watching him.
“So where’d you have to go?”
Needing to do something other than being stared at, Kibum takes a taste and it’s not exactly bad but it’s not exactly good either. It leaves a strange warmth on his tongue, tickling his throat. “Why? It’s none of your business.”
“No,” Jonghyun agrees, a slow smile curving his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and if it isn’t the most delightfully feral thing you ever did see. “But I’m curious. And you’re kind of grouchy.”
Screw you. The way Jonghyun’s big eyes rake over him make the words twist perversely in Kibum’s head, before fizzing out completely.
“Well you’re an idiot, just pulling someone off the street like that.”
Even though he wasn’t actually pulled.
And he doesn’t know if Jonghyun’s an idiot or not.
“I like you,” Jonghyun says nonchalantly, tipping his glass back. As if it’s obvious. Too obvious to even be spoken.
And then - “Do you like me?” It’s that same amused tone from outside, a hand nudging the book bag strap until it’s slipping off his shoulders and Kibum doesn’t know if he hates Jonghyun or something else.
“I was going to my grandma’s.”
“Ahh. Is she sick?”
“No.” Kibum takes another drink, his lips are wet, slick candy apple. “I just like visiting. Better than…she just likes the company.”
“So everyone wins then?”
All at once, Kibum remembers where he is. He’s in a bar, drinking something unfamiliar, and talking to a stranger who may or may not be the kind of strange creature lurking in his mother’s oh so motherly fears. He remembers he’s not on his way to see his grandma, he’s not doing what he’s supposed to be doing, and he’s going to get into a hell of a lot of trouble if he doesn’t get up and leave right now.
But he doesn’t get up and leave. Not right now. Not five minutes later. It’ll take a good hour for that to happen, and by that time, none of those things will really matter anymore. And the sweets will be left to rot.
Jonghyun is watching and Kibum is watching him watch, still underneath his hood.
Prying in.
Peeking out.
“Yeah,” he says. “Everyone wins.”
Who knows what anyone would have assumed had one noticed them slipping out of the booth and into a back alley track together, clicking their tongue, judging. For good reasons, no doubt. But they’re not that different, you see. Underneath the clothes and flesh, there’s want. It’s all want.
There, in the bathroom of the bar, scrambling against Kibum’s ribcage as he watches the other casually advance. There’s a leaky faucet in a filthy looking sink, a tiled wall against his back, there’s a lock that Jonghyun does in fact lock, all without taking his eyes off of Kibum. He unleashes him from the hood. It happens so smooth and slow and now Kibum can feel his hot breath bathing his cheek. He curls into the wall, his face in profile so it’ll fall on his ear instead, the slope of his neck, and his mouth barely parts in silent desperation.
Jonghyun brushes a thumb across his lower lip and back. Plump and trembling and ripe to the touch.
And just so red. So, so pretty.
“Your hands are really warm,” Kibum’s eyes are hooded and his voice is no more than a stumble of syllables but it’s something he’s been puzzling over all night, something drifting in and out of his hazy mind.
An indulgent thumb peeks in between the seam of his lips. Just once. “Better for touching.”
“Your eyes-” Somehow they’re even darker, alive with some kind of force, and Kibum’s sure he’s going absolutely mental right now. Insane. Delusional. He feels different underneath that gaze.
“Better for seeing.” There’s an arm sliding around his waist, bringing their bodies together and maybe that’s the force. An ache for closer and closer still and yet it hovers in front of Kibum cruelly, simply breathing against his skin.
“Your mouth…”
Better for all kinds of things. Kissing Kibum’s pretty parted mouth and sucking on the sweetness until he hears his own surprised moan echoing back at him, rising and falling on the tiled walls like unsteady limbs, like shaking knees. Better for biting, tasting, nibbling, consuming his fill of skin, burying into Kibum’s neck until the younger is literally dizzy from the pleasant pressure of teeth and tongue. He squirms when Jonghyun mouths down his throat, lapping against his racing pulse. The bathroom falls into shadow, but his body becomes electric. It’s hotter underneath Jonghyun’s tongue, unimaginably so, unbearably so.
Kibum wrenches him away. The force of his shove stuns him for a moment, but it doesn’t seem to faze Jonghyun, who just eases into a loose smirk, the sleeves of his black T-shirt crumpled from too tight fists, exposing toned arms Kibum can still feel around his waist. The older reaches and peels the shirt straight off of his back, making quick work of the belt on his jeans and Kibum doesn’t know how he became the one to coax his mouth back to him.
They’re pawing at his own clothes now, squeezing his ass underneath tight jeans. So red and defiled, those lips. Those lips that start biting back.
Want beating heart. Want pulling and tugging his limbs, stretching him taut across the sink countertop and it’s like dirt underneath his chest but bliss between his thighs, Jonghyun’s mouth better for fucking him. Better for tonguing and laving, forcing him open. Kibum struggles to stay on his toes. He’s scraping metal and it’s not so silent anymore.
All those scratchy little sounds and throaty little whimpers are just appetizers. The hunger wants more.
Pound pound alive alive with want for that wolfish grin to devour him whole.
Kibum’s eighteen. He’s fine. He’s taken in the bathroom of a bar for the first time while the world has its eyes closed.
“Tell me your name,” Jonghyun says when Kibum is still coming down from one of the many highs, relentless and pounding in his blood stream. His thrusts slow to the rhythm of his breath on Kibum’s ear and suddenly it all becomes as focused and clear and minute as that. And his eyes? Open.
“Hoodie, remember?”
Kibum can feel the hum of a grin against his neck, grip tightening.
“With somewhere else to be.”
“Let me call so I can say I’ll be a little late.” It’s pointed enough and with that mouth the words sound so deliciously sweet to Jonghyun’s ear, anyway. Kibum slips out of his hold and redresses himself, telling him to stay and wait for him. His cell phone is in his book bag, back at the booth with the friends. He thieves one last kiss before pulling away and discreetly closing the door behind him, not looking once over his shoulder.
He grabs his book bag from the booth and waves goodbye to the people he doesn’t know, who stare back rather shocked. It’s the first time they ever really get a good look at him, as he’s half-way out the door to the bar, already long gone from their night. Kibum’s steps are light as he continues on his way, unhurried. Satisfied. There’s no need to run.
He does call to say he’ll be a little late. He apologizes to his grandma and texts his mother the moment he crosses the familiar steps, then promptly turns the device off.
How are you? His grandma had asked as he shrugged off the snow on his shoes and he’s fine, just fine, he reassures her. He came out of the wilderness unscathed, alive and well. Perfect.
He explains to his grandma that he accidentally left the sweets at home. No one’s heartbroken. And it’s just as well. She’s already busying herself in the kitchen, muttering to pans and poking about cabinets, beginning to fix something. She calls out to the lounging figure in the living room.
You must be starving after all this time, hm?
And Kibum just wears a wolfish smile.