Roisin bit her lip to stop from grinning completely. She laughed lightly as she stepped back to give him space to undress. Certainly, this wasnât the first time Roisin got a boy to undress for her, but this was one of the most fun. The majority of his clothes were now in a pile on the ground as he stared at her.
Appreciatively, Roisin slinked her hands through his, uncrossing them, and hugged him. Another chaste kiss for thanks, she looked up at him, her chin on his chest. âIâll take that as a yes.â
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Roisin seemed almost innocent--- positively romantic---Â when she pulled him close and gazed up at him like that with her wide bright eyes, and the way she kissed him... very cute, even if he didnât buy it for a second. He held her against him longer and gentler than necessary, indulging her little performance. And a moment later her hands told a very different, far more accurate story, and he grinned widely at the change in speed.
He wasnât often pleased to be proven wrong in his expectations, but Roisinâs hand on his cock through the cotton boxers made his hips jerk forward inadvertently, and he laughed a little, more breathless than heâd care to admit. So, she wasnât playing around--- all the better, right? When she was actually on her knees in front of him, yeah... that was--- his mind blanked a little on what it was exactly, but whatever it was, it was working for him. With a slightly uneasy breath, he had to ask, rhetorical and incredulous, âWho the fuck are you...?â
Jake refused her and Roisin pulled away for a moment to pout, but her expression easily returned to being rather pleasantly self-satisfied as he continued speaking. She could tell he was really going for it when he kissed her again and, for a brief moment, she returned it harder before separating with a pucker. âDo you think getting me on my knees would be enough incentive?â Roisin asked, looking him over, eyes lingering a little lower.
Jake had to stare and keep his mouth from cartoon-style dropping open. It was a dirty rotten trick, and he was so attracted to her for it. Because, of course. Of course, yeah, being submissive was a thing that he hadnât expected from her, so that made it hot as fuck, and she absolutely knew it. Which made him, again, her bitch. Totally and completely. She could be on her knees and heâd still feel the invisible collar around his neck. He shook his head in admiration and gave in.
Standing in his boxers, he kicked away the pile of his shoes and pants, crossed his arms, as if to ask if sheâd really follow through. His money was on Not a Chance.
Absolutely delighted as Jake peeled his shirt off, Roisin stepped back to appreciate the view. She was, if nothing else, shameless. He was still holding his shirt as he waited for her to say something, so she took it from him, bundling it in her hands and holding it to her face to hide her giggles as she continued to stare blatantly. Sheâd have to give it to him, he smelt niceâŠAnd somewhat familiar. Finally, he pressed her to speak and Roisin dropped the shirt in the pile of the rest of his clothes. She was holding her grin and smiling ear to ear as she leaned just as much forward as Jake and shook her head. âNope. Not good enough.â Roisinâs finger tapped lightly on his trouser button as she tilted her head to kiss his neck, working on a hickey.
Jake gave a half-laugh, breathy and unexpected, into her shoulder as she leaned closer and set her mouth against the pulse of his neck. He had to hand it to her, she knew---fuck, but she knew what she was doing. Settling his mind to the task and ignoring the pull of her lips for the most part, he grabbed her wrist where it was, and said, âIâm not used to obeying without incentive. Youâll have to do that one yourself, I think.â See how she did with that---he wasnât about to be totally stripped down just because she had a way about her. He put his hand to her face, when she pulled away from him a little, and brushed a thumb over her lips, his other hand staying steady on her wrist between them. âIâm too preoccupied thinking of other uses for this mouth, and that is all your fault. Hope youâre pleased with yourself.â Then he leaned back in to kiss her, deeper and definitely dirtier than before.
Name Meaning: Jacob (âsupplanter, siezing by the heelâ) Carson (âson of carr, son who lives in the carr---a marsh, mossy placeâ) Mitchell (âbigâ or derived from Michael---Â âwho is like Godâ)
Nicknames: Jake (do not call him Jacob)
Gender/Pronouns: He/him
Sexuality: Straight as an arrow, and twice as painful.
Age: Seventeen
Birthplace: Sedona, Arizona
Current Location: Salem, Oregon, United States.
School: Salem Institute of Witchcraft
Birthday:Â August 21, 1999
Occupation: Student, Ambassador to the International Magical Youth Summit
Relationship Status:Â The Single-est. Has not and will never commit to anything more than the emptiest of sexual encounters. Maybe regular hook-ups, but that would be under exceptional circumstances and probably he wouldnât admit it.
Education Level: Seventh year, skipped third (went from second to fourth). Could graduate in the new year.
Focused Area of Study: Altheda, with a special focus on Optimization (improving on known brewing methods).
Zodiac Sign: Leo Sun / Gemini Ascendant / Cancer Moon
MBTI:Â ESTJ (turbulent) --- The Executive
Temperament: Choleric
Smokes: Yes, but more for the image than because he enjoys it or is heavily addicted.
Drinks: Binges regularly.
Drugs: If he has nothing better to do maybe, but he thinks substance dependency is for the weak.
Swears:Â Elaborately.
Nervous Habits:Â Dead silence and a strong glare. He wonât stutter or look unsure, ever. He goes directly to cold rage if it looks like he doesnât know what heâs doing.
Skills/Talents: Potions. He excels at most of his schoolwork, but he has an almost uncanny knack for brewing potions and logically determining the optimal conditions for them---often improving on the prescribed brew methods. His patience for the subject seems almost infinite, which is strange given his personality. Jakeâs pretty excellent at most of his other subjects, as well---anything thatâs just book-learning he finds âtoo easyâ (History of Magic, Arithmancy, etc.) His memory is not so much photographic as it is well-organized---he only remembers what he deems to be relevant, but heâll remember those parts nearly flawlessly.*
Fears:Â Being mute--- losing his voice/being unable to be heard by someone/Silencing Charms.
Religious Beliefs:Â His entire family is Methodist, so understandably he is a nihilist, hedonist, and an atheist, as of approximately four years ago.
Childhood Hero(es): His brothers.
Hobbies: Singing, playing harmonica, guitar. Was a choir boy. Also, vandalism--- graffitiâing walls with intellectual quotes he likes (for instance, near the school somewhere, beneath a window:Â Undermine their pompous authority, reject their moral standards, make anarchy and disorder your trademarks. Cause as much chaos and disruption as possible but don't let them take you ALIVE.)
Favorite Work(s) of Literature: Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk. Anything by Hemingway, James Ellroy, F. Scott Fitzgerald, or the Earl of Rochester.
Favorite Music: Modern Rock/Pop with heavy beats, more chill than angsty--- Arctic Monkeys, Black Keys, Gorillaz, Modest Mouse, Young the Giant, AWOLNATION--- things he could strut to, basically.
Optimist or Pessimist?: Pessimist
Introvert or Extrovert?: Extrovert--- not in that he likes people, but he likes attention.
Daredevil or Cautious: Daredevil to the extreme.
Logical or Emotional: Emotional. Heâs intelligent, but he loses control of his temper very easily.
Disorderly and Messy or Methodical and Neat?: Methodical and Neat.
Confident or Unsure?: (Do you even need to ask?)Â Confident.
*Heâs not very good at mental magic, for the most part, especially Transfiguration, and anything involving mentally picturing a target (like apparition) or using internal will to drive the magic.
The sirens woke him from a peaceful dream where he was winning literally everything.Â
Literally. Everything.
Do you have any idea how difficult it is to do that?Â
Jake shook off the memory, and resigned himself to not hearing his own award-winning anthem playing as he ascended the state-of-the-art podium he himself had designed, to accept the award heâd invented. The other competitors had actually believed they were worthy too, only to eventually face the truth and bow to his superiority in the disciplines of neuro-sorcery, hoverboarding, and oil painting, to name a few.
But all of that evaporated under the blaring sounds echoing through the dorm.
Even though he hadnât experienced it many times before, Jake groaned, imagining his time being wasted in Karuzos Hall by whatever the fuck it was that people couldnât handle tonight. He pulled himself from bed, selected a clean shirt with a low enough neckline that Roisinâs hickey from the other day was fully visible. By the time he was out with the throng of other students he was beginning to consider that there might be people he should check on. Still quite sleepy though, he couldnât be too bothered looking for Teddy or his Irish rose, and just made his way like a particularly surly sheep to the Hall with the others.
The crisis was animal-based---creature-based, to be more specific. Jakeâs ears practically morphed into cones, trying to hear what exactly was on the loose. Unfortunately, by the time heâd given his name to Marina the Neurotic, itâd become clear that students were being kept away from the more interesting specimens. And he got Malaclaws. Great. One tiny misstep, one bite, and heâd be liable to fail his next assignments in every class--- he glared at every faculty member he saw.
But. But.
It didnât escape Jakeâs notice that if he dealt with this, there were plenty more critters on the loose, full of more valuable potion ingredients that he could either use or fence at the nearest opportunity. And that was something he was willing to get into.
It's madness, Mary Jane, and a dirty pair of sneakers
Savage every day, she got a purdy pair of tweeters---
I'm a menace to high class, my vocals are high-pass,
My manners are white trash, so yâall can kiss my fly ass.
I've seen this all before, the writingâs on the door...
A brief smile made its way on her face through the kiss as she noted him taking off his jackets. Her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, but when she felt his hand moving with deliberate action, Roisin pulled away from him. Hand clasping over his, she brought it back down, shaking her head, still smiling at him. âIâm awfully shy,â she teased, giving him a chaste kiss before tugging his shirt up and pouting up at him. âYou first?â
She was about shy as a nuclear explosion, and they both knew it. But Jake wasnât one to hold off on nudity, it wasnât a problem in the slightest for him. He paid close attention to her expression as he pulled off his shirt, waiting for inevitable approval---or, seeing the way she liked to be, blatant scorn, which would mean the same thing. With a girl like this, an insult being a compliment, he could easily settle for, âwork out more,â or âyou have nothing to look so smug about.â He could translate perfectly well. And it would be her turn next, so. Jake leaned forward. âBetter now? Shyness overcome?â
There was a slight thump as he pushed her back against the door. Roisinâs half-shut eyes trailed from the hand he took back to his face. âI think I might have been tooâ I like them assertive.â But then Roisin roughly pushed him off, against the wall, and ignoring the the items falling from the shelves, threw herself at him. âJust not as assertive as me, Mitchell.â Giving him no room to speak, Roisin finally went in for the kill.
The shelves shook when she pushed him back, but Jake just grinned at the lack of pretense---not unexpected, from her, but still refreshing. She didnât waste time, and neither would he. Without breaking from her kiss, electric as it was, he had other priorities. Shrugging off his jacket, he dropped it and his hoodie to the floor and pulled her tightly against him, pushing one hand into thick soft hair while the other stroked up the small of her back under her shirt, following the smooth curve intent to find the clasp of her bra and get it undone as quick as possible.
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