#one spring night night not have a plot that particularly stands out but the yearning and the pursuit of happiness of your beloved | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkedtae · 4 years

Text

eros ⇾ jjk. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ god!jungkook x curvy!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ s2l, greek mythology au, circa. 1800 au, historical au, light fluff, pwp, smut, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ you let a stranger watch you on your balcony with pleasure every night, longing and yearning for him to join you, until one night he does.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 14.6k of pure filth :)

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!jungkook, bigdick!jungkook, buff!jungkook, winged!jungkook, sub!reader, virgin!reader, slightly insecure!reader, unprotected sex (wrap’em to tap’em), rough sex, playful-ish sex, lowkey love-making in the end, dirty talk, creampie, orgasm denial, use of glass dildo, use of glass arrowhead butt plug, slight degradation, mutual masturbation, exhibition, overstimulation, voyeurism, praise kink, edging, cum eating, pussy slapping, squirting, choking, hair pulling, fingering, bodyworshipping, throat-fucking, tit-fucking, begging, rimming, anal, hand-job, oral (m. and f. receiving), pube play, spit play, breast play, multiple orgasms, a shit ton of filth and zero plot

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ extremely unedited. idek just enjoy.

⤜ le playlist ↠

Standing naked on your balcony under a million stars, your nipples hardened from the cold and your delicate skin prickled with goosebumps. You liked to be as bare of clothes as the sky was of clouds on nights like this. Stargazing naked was another experience in itself. The wind would embrace every part of you, whipping at your skin and flowing through your hair. Stars would twinkle down at you as you gazed back up at them.

Beneath the night’s cover, you felt your freest. There wasn’t a single voice telling you that your curves were too big, rolls too much or thighs too thick. You were simply being, appreciating every bit of yourself. And with the moon gleaming down at you, you couldn’t help but feel your sexiest, going wetter with anticipation. Maybe you shouldn’t have been teasing yourself for this long, rubbing our clit in slow, tiny circles, but you were growing impatient waiting for your nightly spectator.

You had first noticed his tall figure by the old oak tree across from your room. He was palming himself through his pants as he looked up at you, watching you through the thin, brass bars of the railing around your balcony. Fear and shame made you freeze in place at first, the handle of your favourite hair brush stilling deep inside you. You had no idea how long he’d been there or what else he’d seen you do. You really didn’t want him to see anymore, but you were so close and desperate to cum at that point. So, you continued to please yourself and tried to ignore his presence long enough to finish.

The groan that left him as you came, made you cum even harder. He sounded so hot, making your cheeks flush with an unfamiliar sense of pride. No man had ever considered you attractive enough to look at you more than a second. And here this stranger was, cumming in his pants for you, with you.

He jumped the high hedges of the garden maze now. His head tilted up at you as he walked to the oak tree. You could never make out his face, but you’ve memorized his silhouette. He had relatively broad shoulders and a thin waist. His arms looked muscular and thighs lean. He had to be a young man, maybe in his twenties based on his build. He had long hair too. This you only knew because he would sometimes run his hand through it and moan when he saw you do something that particularly pleased him.

Curling a strand of your hair behind your ear, you flashed him a shy smile. As he reached the tree, you turned around to bend over, giving him a little pre-show of your ass and wetness. You were just trying to set up the glass dildo he gifted you so that it was centred. Since you caught him staring, he’d been leaving new toys for you to use on the edge of your balcony every morning. A little note was attached to the first one, rewarding you for a job well done the night before. He had written that you deserved nothing less and that you needed to get used to the feeling of a real cock.

You got on your knees, turning around to give him a full view of your face. He really liked seeing your face for some reason, growling every time you looked down or gave him your back. Your small hands held onto your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples as you teased him a bit. He leaned his head against the oak tree, making you giggle. You knew he was becoming impatient but wanted to punish him a bit for making you wait so long.

One of your hands slid down your stomach while your other remained on your breast. You spread your legs to accept your hand between them. Your index and middle finger formed a ‘v’, tugging on the top of your pussy and spreading out your lips for him to see every wet detail. Your pussy was glistening in the moonlight and his pleased groan only just met your ears. You smiled at him, biting your lip.

Using both your hands, you spread your pussy and rubbed the tip along your folds, sighing a moan at the sweet friction. You saw his hand press against his crotch and thought that the poor guy had been waiting long enough. You were also getting needy yourself, moving rather quickly to align the tip of the glass cock with your entrance.

You sucked in a sharp breath then sunk down on the dildo. It was deliciously cold, stretching your tight walls while stinging them with the temperature of the cool spring night. Your hands fell in front of you as you tried to hold in your loud moans. Your hair began to cover your face and, though he growled under his breath for you to sit up, you continued to remain in your position. Only once the glass toy fully bottomed in you, did you sit back up again and push your hair out of your face.

You looked at him to smile as a way of an apology but froze. His hand was in his pants now. His hand was never in his pants. He always palmed himself, cumming in his pants from the mere sight of you jumping on whatever toy he gifted. You raised your brows at him, but he only nodded for you to carry on.

So, you did.

Clamping a hand over your mouth, you slowly began to bounce on the toy. You knew this was going to be the fucking of a lifetime when your eyes already started to roll back, twitching from the pleasure. Pussy wet and needy, you sped up your pace. Your ass slapped against the pavement with each bounce. A little hiss fell into your hand at the sting of the hard, cold floor hitting your ass repeatedly.

Your dazed eyes fell on him, watching as he jerked his hand in his pants. He threw his head back momentarily, then returned his attention to you. If you were driving him crazy from such a distance, you wondered what you’d be able to do if he was up here with you.

Images of having his cock down your throat only made you jump faster, getting closer. Was he as big as the glass gift? Would he stretch you out better? Could he reach deeper? Did his hands like to wander like yours did, or did he prefer to grip onto your hips the entire time he’d ruin you? The mere thought of him touching you at all had got you clenching around the toy, squealing pathetically into your hands.

The pace you set was starting to waver as you didn’t feel like you could continue on in the same position. Leaning forward on your elbows, you arched your back and continued your thrusts onto the toy. The cold floor scratched at your breasts, hair fell over your face, hands remained firm on your lips but you still looked like a mess. The groan he gave you told you he was less than impressed.

Your hazy attention snapped down to his silhouette. He was shaking his head. There wasn’t much he could see, you realized. An annoyed sigh escaped you as you paused all movements and sat up. Running a hand through your hair, you raised a brow at him. A part of you debated just calling him up and showing you just how he wanted you. But the tilt of his head told you that he was expecting you to adapt to his desires, not the other way around. Not when you were so far away anyways.

Lifting your hips, you pulled the toy out. A sad sigh escaped him; did he think you were done? You smirked at him. He knew better than to think that little of you, to think you’d leave the both of you hanging off the edge of your orgasms. All you planned to do was turn around. With your back facing him, you sunk back down on the toy and leaned on your elbows once more. The fast pace you had previously set resumed and he got to see every dirty bit of it.

Your hands reached back after a few thrusts, spreading your ass so he can properly see your pussy grip up and down on the ridges of the glass toy. His groans were pouring out of him like you’ve never heard before while you bit on your lip to keep all yours in. You knew the moment you let out even a tiny gasp, the rest of all your loud and lewd screams would tear their way through your throat too. You couldn’t risk being caught, not when you were so close.

Tossing your hair to the side, you sat up and chanced a glance down at him over your shoulder. He leaned against the tree, trying to stay standing while his hand worked quick in his pants. The sight got you closer, so close in fact that you didn’t know if you could hold out for much longer. You stared at his frame, waiting for the nod of his head. A satisfied gasp left him as he nodded. Body trembling eyes rolled back, toes curled, ass smacking against the pavement harder than you’ve ever felt, you came. Quickly, you clamped your hands back over your mouth, squeezing them on your reddening face to try to muffle your shrieks and squeals. One of these nights, you swore you were probably going to wake up the entire house, staff included.

The stranger fell to his knees, hips jolting into his hands. You moaned louder, cursing yourself for being so whipped for someone you’ve never even properly met. The fact that he came apart to the point that he was on the ground was enough to make you want to call out to him.

You mentally begged him to come up here and cum in your mouth, to take you into your room and shove your face in the mattress, ramming his cock in your ass while the glass dildo remained in your pussy. He looked up at you, taking his hand out of his pants. He was heaving, buff chest raising and falling unevenly.

Won’t you come to me, you thought, gazing down at him. You ceased all movements on the toy, reaching the end of your high. The stranger stared for a moment longer before turning to leave.

Shuttering, you pulled the toy out and turned back to facing him. He drifted off, back into the night. Alone, you remained, wishing he’d just make himself known already.

By Eros, I want him.

Sweet and delicate, you stood with your older sister, Mary, by the fountain. Little cupids spurted streams of pink tinted water into the pool. You were admiring the loose lily petals that floated above the little fish as Mary rambled about your mother’s orders to mingle. It was nothing you hadn’t heard before, but you still nodded along, humming in agreement when necessary.

A wave of nausea washed over you as you met her gaze again. You shifted uncomfortably in your place, clasping your hands together as you acknowledged your sister’s beauty. She was the gem of your family, the one to surely carry out the bloodline. Your mother always spoke of Mary like she was the last hope for grandchildren, dismissing your presence without a second thought. She’d send Mary off to all social engagements with the best dresses and make sure she spoke to the richest men. All eyes would fall on her slender figure the moment she’d walk in and your mother would tell you that that could be you too if you simply adopted the diet plan she set you. The plan was simple: one apple and two glasses of milk daily. You told your mother it would’ve been healthier for you to just cut your arm off to lose the weight she insisted you had.

The curves of your body, the rolls of your stomach when you sat and the thickness of your thighs were not the issue. Her opinion was. And if everyone didn’t share that same opinion, you might not have gazed at your sister with a shred of envy or anger. It was not her fault at all and she never made you feel as disgusted with yourself as your mother or her friends did. But, the fact remained that she didn’t know what it felt like to be casted aside for something as trivial as body shape. You didn’t wish this hatred on her, but you just wanted her to at least understand where you were coming from as she never really grasped where your sadness stemmed from.

As Mary fell into another rant about the chill of the spring evening, your miserable gaze drifted back to the fountain’s pool beside you. The delicate peachy petals of a tiger lily sparked your interest. You wanted to retrieve a petal, hoping to preserve its beauty within your flower collection in your room. There was a small glass bowl on your desk that shealterd little sprouts and petals that the tiger lily would look perfect in.You reached a hand down into the fountain, about to pick it up when your mother made her presence known behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed.

Mary placed her fan over her lips as you jumped back to your full height. Bewildered, you looked between your mother and the spot under the gazebo where she once stood. The white pavilion was across the garden; how did she get to you so fast?

You opened your mouth to reply, but her unimpressed glare held your voice captive. “Didn’t I tell you to greet the guests?” she whispered. She flashed a fake smile to one of your aunties before turning back to you.

“We did,” Mary sighed. “Can’t we just go back inside? You seem to have this taken care of.”

Your mother looked less than impressed by that statement. She drove into her fourth scolding of the night, telling the two of you off for standing around here all evening. Both, you and your sister, were branded embarrassments to your family name before your mother turned to Mary again. All smiles, she said, “I heard Micheal was asking about you.”

You couldn’t suppress the roll of your eyes. Not only was she bringing the horrible topic of men up again, but your mother’s mood swings were going to give you whiplash. It was hard to keep up with her when she jumped between scornful scolding and gleeful gossiping so easily.

Mary, previously slouching her shoulders and looking off in the distance towards the house, snapped her attention on your mother. “Really?” she smiled, a little giggle slipping passed her lips. You smiled with her, laughing to yourself at her excitement. She looked so cute with her fan covering her flushed cheeks and nervous smile. You couldn’t blame the men that wept upon her refusal to marry them.

Your mother nodded, her smile now just as wide as Mary’s. She looped her arm with your sister’s and the two of them walked towards Micheal’s mother to discuss possible courting affairs. The family needed to know she was available if she was to be courted; that’s what your mother always said anyway.

Sitting back on the fountain’s edge, you scanned the partygoers as the sun continued to set. You had already greeted them all, spending way too much time pretending to remember people you hadn’t seen since you were a child. As you watched them converse, you couldn’t help but compare your dress to the other young women your age. Their dresses were trimmed with ruffles, layered with lace and tulle, and coloured so beautifully like the blooming spring flowers.

Your dress was white with hints pink, and no fancy trimming or pretty lace and tulle elevated its elegance. The sleeves were only a quarter length and hung off your shoulders. Your mother told you your arms were too big and short sleeves were the only other option. Though you knew that was just a fabricated statement to make you feel bad enough to diet, you bit your tongue. You let your mother have her way so that you could have yours.

You fixed your neckline, pulling it up a bit to keep your breasts from spilling out. The corset was all too tight, pushing your breasts further out then they usually were. Your mother just had to insist the handmaids to tie it tighter. You could barely breathe and now you were all but forced to give your guests a free show. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, recalling the events of the night before, but shows like that were now reserved for one person only and, judging by the force of his growls, you didn’t think he’d be too pleased with you putting it on for anyone else.

Despite your efforts, your breasts pushed the boundaries of your corset. There wasn’t much you could do about it surrounded by strangers. Scanning the crowd for your mother, you found her by Mary’s side still, the two of them chatting up Micheal now. Now was a better time to quietly slip away than any. Unbeknown to any one around you, you hurried out of the garden and down the cobblestone path back to your family’s estate.

With every step, your breasts bounced, further threatening to spill out of your dress. In a huff, you reached the silent house. Only a few candles were lit, illuminating the otherwise dark foyer. After kicking your heels off, you tip-toed your way to your room. The kitchen bled the staff’s conversations down the corridor to the foot of the grand staircase as they worked hard to keep up with your mother’s strict serving schedule. An excited smirk tugged on your lips at the realization that you’d stumbled into a relatively empty house and you might be free to make some noise tonight. Maybe you wouldn’t be able to share your fun with the stranger tonight, with everyone being outside, but being able to moan freely was still a win in your books.

Speaking of the stranger, he hadn’t left a new gift for you that morning. It was an odd occurrence that filled your chest with sadness. Thoughts of not performing well enough last night had been running in circles through your mind all day long. He seemed happy with the outcome, falling to his knees from the pleasure. So, where was your daily reward? Using the glass dildo again wasn’t out of the question, but you had to gotten used to being spoiled with a new treat every morning. If he was teasing you, it was-

Fuck, you couldn’t think straight. This dress was too tight, and the corset pushed on every one of your bones, squeezing all oxygen out of you. Maybe it was all in your head but it seemed like with every breath you took, the damned thing got tighter. Your hands quickly reached back to untie it the moment you shut your bedroom door. However, no matter how faster your fingers worked, weaving in and out of the laces frantically, the corset only seemed to get tighter.

A loud tear echoed in the room and you gasped in a fresh dose of air, feeling the blood rush back around your torso once more. Your hands fell before you on the edge of your dresser, holding yourself up as you heaved for more air. Once you felt like your blood returned to your head, you stood back up, eyes drifting up to the mirror.

In the corner, looming behind you stood the silhouette of a man. A loud scream tore through your throat as you turned to face him, holding your loose dress up against your chest. He tilted his head at you, causing your fearful eyes to flash with curiosity. Could it be? The dark shadow had the same figure as the nightly stranger and you knew that little head quirk all too well, sometimes even adopting it yourself when you weren’t impressed with something or confused.

“Evening, miss.”

All words failed you. He sounded just as hot speaking as he did groaning. A blush coloured your collarbone and crept up your neck. The stranger slowly stepped into the moonlight, finally revealing himself. Your attention drifted up his figure and you shamelessly soaked in his beauty, eyes lingering around his buff chest. He smirked when you finally met his gaze. Your mind glitched as you scanned his handsome features. High cheekbones, slightly pursed lips, doe-like eyes, and strands of his long hair framing his face, the rest pulled back into a ponytail. With lips parted, you mentally came to the conclusion that this man’s face invented beauty.

His grin widened. The stranger dipped his head a bit to bring your lost eyes back to reality and asked, “Miss (L/N)?”

Eyes wide, you stepped back into your dresser. “How do you know my name? I’ve never told you it,” you breathed, giving his frame another once over. It was then that you noticed it, the bag of golden arrows silver tipped arrows, gleaming in the moonlight by his feet. He had one in his hand too, the moon’s light bouncing off the sharp tip. Brows coming together, you flickered your attention back to his amused gaze once more.

“Is this not the (L/N) estate?” he questioned, letting his eyes wander down your frame.

You nodded, biting on your lip as you tried to figure out what exact he wanted. Why did he have a bag full of arrows and why was he holding one of them now? Did he always have them when he visited by the tree? You had never noticed them before if he did. He always seemed to come empty handed, freeing hands to be able to please himself at the sight of you doing the same.

Nodding over to the bag, you asked, “Are you a hunter?”

“Something like that,” he shrugged, quirking a brow. He dropped the arrow in his hand back into the bag. “You looked like you needed a bit of help with that,” he explained, nodding to your corset. His eyes lingered on your breasts.

You looked down too, a little sigh of relief escaping you. “Oh, right. Thanks,” you muttered, tentative looking back up to meet his gaze.

His eyes were elsewhere, however, attention falling on the balcony doors. He looked back at you with a knowing smile.

Though you blushed and wanted to get lost in it, it didn’t dismiss the fact that he had brought a bag of weapons into your room. Millions of thoughts petrified you in your place, gazing at the bag. Had you been carrying out the fantasies of a murder every night? Were you his next victim?

“Maybe I should move these. You look nervous,” he said, kicking the bag aside. “I apologize for bringing them along; I just came back from a job.”

“Oh,” you hummed, relaxing your shoulders. He smiled once more and this time you couldn’t deny him the attention he wanted. “I think,” you started in a whisper. He stepped towards you and leaned his head closer to hear you better, cutting your words short for a second. “I think it’s hardly fair for you to know my name and for me not to know yours.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” he immediately answered.

Jeon. You’ve never heard of the Jeon family. Your mother spoke about every family with handsome, single men, trying to coax you into losing weight and your sister into picking a husband to marry already. Never once had she spoke of the Jeons. And if his entire family looked as good as he did, then they would’ve been the first family she’d speak of daily.

“Do you live around here, Mr. Jeon?” you asked, pushing yourself off the edge of your dresser. You still held your dress against you, not ready to let it fall yet.

Jungkook gazed at you for a moment as he slowly closed the distance between you, pressing his chest to yours. You bit your lip as his tall frame slowly towered over you. He poked his tongue on his cheek and you felt your arousal wet your inner thighs. That was probably the hottest thing you had ever seen. You mentally asked him to do it again and, to your happy surprise, he did. A shaky breath escaped you, your folds sticky with a new rush of wetness.

“I’m just visiting,” he answered. “You looked miserable sitting there alone. I was hoping you’d hurry back here instead.”

You raised a brow at him. “How long have you been waiting?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Too long,” he murmured. He was only a hand's reach away now, halting before you.

With him so close, you took the time to analyze his face, soaking in every beautiful detail that made it so hard to look away from him. Those three little freckles, under his lip, on his cheek and on his neck, probably your favourite - no, it was that soft smile, or maybe it was the smug look in his eye that reinforced that cocky persona of his. It was all too much; too pretty. You needed to look away and regain your wits but you physically couldn’t allow yourself to tear your attention away from something that beautiful.

“I must say, Miss (L/N),” Jungkook smiled. You leaned in closer, hanging off every one of his words. Was it too soon to admit that you were in love with the deep tone of his voice? “You look just as good clothed as you do bare.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed with a little smile. The reality of his words suddenly sunk in, hitting you over the head with realization. You shook your head, blinking repeatedly. Slightly pulling back, you replied, “Wait, what?”

Jungkook smirked, raising a brow at you. “You don’t agree?” he asked with a chuckle. When you didn’t answer, he dipped his head near your ear. “Trust me,” he whispered. He then graced you with a low growl that vibrated against the shell of your ear, igniting your nerves and burning your skin with desire. Your thighs were slick with your wetness as your soft flesh stuck together. You felt yourself melting into his touch, drifting further into his chest.

He placed a tiny kiss just under your earlobe then stood back up to his full height. Regret filled you as you mentally scolded yourself for not pursuing him sooner. If you had known he was this handsome, you would’ve jumped out of your balcony and let him fuck you by that tree all night, every night.

A blush tinted his cheeks and he averted his gaze to the ground, catching an eyeful of your breasts instead. “Been thinking about these,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning over your cleavage.

“Have you?” you challenged in an innocent tone. You let go of your dress and allowed it to hang loosely on your frame, flashing your breasts and making him bite his lip. “A gentleman doesn’t stare, Mr. Jeon,” you teased with a quiet giggle.

His darkening eyes snapped back up to meet yours. “Who told you I was gentle, baby?”

Lips parted in amazement, you had to stop your mind from screaming at you to just jump his bones already. You weren’t sure what drove you more crazy, the pet name or the fact that he just promised to ruin you in so many words.

“Who are you?”

“Yours.”

He must’ve misheard you, you thought. Or maybe you misheard him. The look in his eyes seemed to let you know that your second thought couldn’t have been an option. You didn’t dwell on it too much either way, taking whatever you could get. Having him all to yourself was all you really wanted anyway. You weren’t about to question that statement or fight him on his meaning, no matter how cryptic it sounded.

But the fact of the matter remained as he still had one more concern of yours to soothe. Lips pursed in a pout, you peered up at him through your lashes. “No man of mine forgets to reward me,” you replied.

Jungkook tilted his head, smiling cutely at you. It was hard to maintain the pout at the sight, still you did your best to try to fight off the smile playing on your lips. He curled a strand of your hair behind your ear and tsked at your implication. “I didn’t forget anything, baby. I just wanted to deliver this one in person.”

Perking up at his words, you let that smile take over your features as you excitedly asked, “really?” You giggled quietly to yourself when he nodded. His veiny hand reached into his pocket and he pulled out a glass, oval arrowhead shape. It was thick but shorter than the usual dildos he bought you.

Jungkook chuckled to himself, placing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “No, no, baby,” he muttered as he placed the new toy in your hand. “This is for a different hole.”

Red in the face, you nervously looked up at him. Yes, in the moment you had wished he’d fuck your ass like it belonged to him. However, to have that be a reality, when you’ve never even really been with anyone in the first place, frightened you. Jungkook must’ve sensed your fear as he stroked your hair to help soothe you.

“We don’t have to try it if it makes you uncomfortable baby,” he whispered, meeting your gaze. Those dark eyes only held kindness and you knew that you were safe with him. His hand slipped back in yours to take the toy out and place it back in his pocket.

“No, I want to,” you rushed to reply, eyes following his movements. You’d be damned if he didn’t put this in you. Maybe with anyone else you would’ve shattered the glass toy the moment it was mentioned, but Jungkook was different. Something in you kept telling you that saying yes would be the best decision of your life.

Jungkook smiled at your eagerness. He hovered his face over yours, noses brushing and breaths exchanging as he teased the possibility of a kiss. You blushed, realizing this would be your first one. First, your heart, and now your kisses. Was the anything Jungkook wouldn’t be taking from you tonight?

Before you can think of anything, his lips were on yours, sipping your breath away. Your clueless hands gripped onto the waistband of his pants. Tugging on it, you jolted his hips forward, bodies now flush against each other. Those strong hands of his couldn’t decide where exactly they wanted to land. They traced up your waist and through your hair, leaving a trail of frenzied nerves in their wake. With a little moan falling against your lips, Jungkook dropped his hands down behind you and dug his fingers in your already torn corset. A jerking tug was all it took for your dress to completely tear apart, Jungkook’s body against yours the only thing holding it up; he didn’t seem to like that.

Jungkook pulled away from you enough to have the dress fall, pooling around your feet on the floor. You were left in nothing but your thigh-high pink stockings, gripping on his waistband once more to silently let him know what you were really after. His jaw went slack, eyes vacant as he soaked in the bare image of you, as if he didn’t get it nightly.

“Why is it that you’ve only seen me naked?” you teasingly questioned as his eyes lingered around your breasts.

“In a minute,” he murmured, closing the distance between you once more. Letting out a pleased sigh, he cupped your breasts with each hand and gently squeezed. He tightened his grip until he heard a moan escape you, smugly smirking down at you. The tip of his nose brushed yours, and you leaned in for a kiss he wasn’t intending on giving you, but you looked so cute all needy that he couldn’t resist giving into you.

He only offered a peck before whispering his concerns, “I know you’re ready, but there’s something I should let you in on so I don’t startle you later.”

You paused for a moment, eyes flickering down to his crotch. Though unsure if he was referencing his impressive size or not, you blushed and shyly met his gaze once more.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. “No, no, I don’t mean- I was- there’s just lots you don’t know yet.” He finished after stuttering over his words. It was the first time he’d been flustered throughout your entire encounter, previously remaining collected as you unraveled to his every touch.

Does it really matter? You wondered, too enthralled by his presence and proximity to your bare figure to really care.

“It does,” he replied in a whisper so quiet you thought it was all in your head.

Eyes widening, you slightly pulled away from him, his grip on your breasts falling to your hips instead. You raised a brow at him, watching him carefully as he bit on his lip. Did he just seriously read your mind? Had he been doing it the entire time? “I have to ask you again, Jungkook,” you muttered, already searching his eyes for the truth, “who are you?”

“You called on me last night. I couldn’t resist answering your prayers,” he explained as he pulled you closer by the gentle hold he had on your hips.

Eros.

He nodded, hovering his face over yours once more. You let him reposition his hands to your ass, where they rested while you mulled over the realization. He’d been hearing your every thought since you saw him. Every dirty wish you made, every lewd thought you uttered about him, for him, he had heard. He had you to himself all along, so why did he stay away?

“I couldn't visit until you prayed,” he explained, tracing lazy patterns absentmindedly on your cheeks with the pads of his fingers.

You gulped, shaking your head at him as you tried to fully understand. “Why are you telling me all this now?”

Jungkook retracted his hands from your body, taking several steps back. Biting back a protest at the short distance he created between the two of you, you watched his next movements with silent curiosity. He shrugged off his short coat before pulling his shirt out of his pants and unbuttoning it, slowly exposing his toned, buff chest. Your eyes widened, hands reaching out to have your nails graze his skin. He sucked in a sharp breath, pausing all movements to watch you revel at his torso.

Nervously, you glanced back up to meet his gaze. Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, giving his shirt the final push it needed to fall to the floor. Reactively, two milky white wings sprouted from his shoulder blade. A tiny groan escaped him as they stretched behind him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pull your attention away from them. The tips of the wing’s feathers were foiled with silver and gold, reflecting in the moonlight. They were real; Eros had wings. The tales you’ve heard about him made it seem like that detail was a myth, but here he was, in your room with wings almost as big as him.

Shaky hands hovered over each wing’s edge. “C-can I?” you breathed. He nodded, staring at your parted lips as he pressed himself back against you. Your breasts were flush against his chest, making you melt into his frame. With a deep breath, your fingertips slid across the outer edge of his wings and he shivered, grip tightening on your hips. “Soft,” you whispered in awe.

Jungkook breathed a little chuckle, placing a little kiss on the corner of your lips. His wings suddenly retracted, tucking within themselves behind him. A gasp echoed in your room as your fingers curled into your palms from the sudden action. You glanced at him for an explanation but he didn’t offer one, gently pushing you back towards your bed. His lips latched onto yours in a passionate kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth.

You felt the bed behind your legs before you were pushed down on it. His lips left yours, glistening with your saliva. Seeing his mouth wet from yours made you blush for some reason.

Jungkook must’ve been in your mind again because he smiled and bent over your frame, face floating over yours. The pad of his thumb rested on your chin, opening your mouth. “Tongue out,” he ordered in a quiet whisper. You complied, sticking your tongue out as lust began to cloud your mind. He pursed his lips, dropping a string of his spit onto your tongue. Eyes widening, you felt him push your chin up, silently ordering you to close your mouth.

Why the fuck did that taste good? Why did you want another? You pushed your tongue to the roof of your mouth, savouring his taste.

“Open up then,” he murmured before pursing his lips again. You immediately stuck you tongue out to accept it, moaning at the taste.

Jungkook chuckled and got down on his knees. Pushing your knees apart, he grabbed one of your legs and rested it on his shoulder. Your toes brushed against his feathers, his shoulders tensing a bit. That reaction was enough for you to know how much he liked it. “What are you doing?” you asked as you gently stroked his wings with your toes.

Letting out a trembling breath, Jungkook replied, “getting you ready.”

You weren’t completely sure what he meant by that, but didn’t fight him on it, especially with his lips leaving wet kisses all over your inner thighs. Gasping quiet moans, you gripped onto the sheets behind you and watched him kiss his way to your pussy. A smile graced his lips before he shoved his face against your pussy’s lips, smearing your wetness all over his chin, mouth, cheeks and nose. Jungkook inhaled your scent deeply, a throaty groan leaving him instantly. Your breath hitched and his gaze snapped up to you, smile widening at the sight of you slowly falling apart.

Holding your needy gaze, Jungkook scattered wet kisses over the skin above your pussy, brushing his nose through the short hairs in the process. You bit your lip as he moved his thumb through the hairs. He gently scratched it while kissing the area around your lips. The fact that he still hadn’t spread them and brought his face to where you wanted him most was driving you crazy. From the way he smirked, you knew he had read your mind, knew that he was aware of where you wanted him and how bad. Still, he didn’t make an effort to move there, swiping his tongue over your tiny hairs instead.

“Please,” you whimpered out, hips bucking into his face. You could tell from the way he raised his brow that he was ready to refuse you, but the pout you gave him made him freeze.

Huffing, he slowly pushed your body back to rest on the mattress before finally pulling your lips apart. Heart thumping wildly in your chest, you gripped tightly onto the sheets. Everything in you was urging you to relax, but the mere thought of him being between your legs was only making you wetter and that much more nervous.

“Fuck,” he whispered and you reactively clenched, only making him curse under his breath once more. You weren’t sure what his curses were for and didn’t have much time to figure it out as his tongue lapped a long strip of your arousal from your hole to your clit. Back arching, you whimpered, voice already breaking. You hated how pathetically easy it was for you to fall apart for him, but Jungkook seemed to enjoy that fact very much, chuckling against your heat proudly. You could even feel his smirk as he sucked on your clit.

The pleasure was already causing tremors all over your body, particularly in your legs. Your thighs slightly came together as the tip of his tongue quickly flicked your cilt. Jungkook dug his hands into your flesh and harshly pulled them apart once more, slapping your inner thigh as a means of a warning. Your hips jolted up into his mouth as a moan escaped you. Holy fuck, you wished he’d do that again and instantly he did, a bit hard this time.

“Jungkook, yes, yes,” you squirmed in your place. Your voice was barely over a whisper but Jungkook heard you all the same, moaning incoherently against your wetness as he lapped it all up. “Yes,” you gasped upon feeling the tip of his tongue poke into your entrance.

He did it again. And again. He barely pushed his tongue every time and it was driving you crazy, hands moving to tangle in his hair, ruining that ponytail they held the majority of his hair back. Hips jolting up, you begged, “please, Jungkook.”

Jungkook groaned in response and fully shoved the length of his tongue in you. A pleased squeal left you, trembling fingers scratching at his scalp. His tongue swirled around your walls, pushing them apart with every flick of his tongue. His nose brushed against your cilt all the while. Never had you been brought closer to your orgasm so quickly before. Your hips rolled into his face, his nose now squished against your clit and forcing a shriek out of you.

Strong hands slid up your stomach to your breasts, gripping onto them again. Jungkook used his newfound hold on them to pull you further onto his face, squeezing and massaging the flesh all the while. Your eyes fluttered open the moment you heard the lewd sounds of his slurping. “Oh fuck,” you gasped, circling your hips around his face.

Maybe he grew tired of his position or just wanted to see more of you, but either way Jungkook pulled his face away, making you hiss a curse at the loss of contact. Immediately, you sat up on your elbows, looking down at him expectedly, waiting for him to resume his work. He didn’t even properly look at you, lips tightly closed together as his jaw clenched. Before you could question him, he flipped your over, propping you up on your knees.

You gasped, face falling into the mattress. His hands slid along your spine, reactively making you arch your back for him and perk your ass up high. After spreading your legs and pulling your asscheeks apart, Jungkook spit whatever he was holding in his mouth onto your asshole. Your body shuddered at the sensation of his spit and your juices leaking all over your ass, trailing back down to your pussy. Jungkook used a finger to push it all back up in time, rubbing it around the rim of your hole. All your moans tumbled into the mattress, ass pushing back into his hand.

Jungkook laughed and brought his hand down on your ass hard, jiggling the fat and making you scream into the sheets. Before you could even register your movements, your hips were wiggling for another, to which he complied smacking both his hands down on your ass and laughing heartily at your needy squeals. This was all a game to him, but you couldn’t have cared less. You were getting what you wanted and that was all that fucking matter right now.

His lips returned to your body, suctioning over your asshole, licking his spit and your wetness into your hole. You clenched every time his tongue poked in, pushing him out once more. Jungkook placed a gentle kiss on each of your cheeks, tenderly rubbing the sting he only just inflected away. “Relax, baby,” he murmured against your flesh. “If you want your new toy, you’re going to need to relax. Take a deep breath,” he ordered, kissing your cheek again.

You followed his instructions, taking several deep breaths in an attempt to relax your pounding heart. The rest of your muscles slowly followed, limbering up and Jungkook took this as a good sign to continue.

“Such a good girl,” he praised in a whisper before his tongue poked back into your hole. You still clenched but not hard enough to push him out this time. He pushed it in further, face buried between your cheeks, fingers digging into their roundness with a force you’ve never felt before. Surely, he was going to leave bruises, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Pushing your ass back into him, you moaned. Your clit was starting to throb for attention, missing the feeling of his mouth. Jungkook pulled away from your ass and you thought that he may have heard your thoughts again and was moving to comply with your needs. But, that wasn’t at all what he had planned. Two of his fingers swept across your wet core, scooping a good amount of your arousal, before smearing it all over the rim of your asshole again. He spat another dollop of saliva on your hole as well, rubbing them together once more.

“So pretty,” he whispered. If you hadn’t been listening for ever one of those wet sounds, you wouldn't have heard him.

Lifting your face off the mattress, you looked over your shoulder at him. He was towering over your ass, eyes locked on your puckering hole and admiring the way it gaped up at him as he played with it. A blush flushed your cheeks. You bit your lip as you wiggled your hips at him. He smiled, eyes glancing up at you. That sweet smile of his widened, a giggle escaping him.

“Ready for more?” he smiled as his finger slowly pushed into your ass. Your jaw dropped, brows furrowed and eyes darken with a new wave of lust. His amused gaze admired your desperate features, smugly smirking to himself. “I fucking knew you were an anal whore,” he chuckled, looking more excited by the experience than you did. “You always thought about it, didn’t you? I’ve heard you craving my cock in your ass throughout the day all the time. You’ve given me a hard more times than I could count while I’m out on a job.” His finger bottomed out and he gently began to push it against your walls, stretching you. “I’ve almost hit the wrong person too many times because of you. Do you think you could really take my cock?” he questioned, and by the way he was staring at you, he wanted an answer.

You swallowed thickly, moaning quietly to yourself as his finger pulled out a bit. After trying and failing to find your voice, you nodded. In actuality, you didn’t even really know if you could take the toy he bought you, but you’d be damned if you passed up the chance to have his cock in there too.

Jungkook laughed, wings spreading a bit as he relaxed his shoulders. He slowly added another finger, continuing to express only the most gentle movements despite your eagerness. You were ambitious, a trait that only further drew him into you. He scissored his fingers in you, further pushing your walls apart. You hissed a moaned, eyes fluttering close.

His other hand cupped your heat, a loud moan slipped from your lips. You turned back to face the mattress, leaning on your elbows now. As you pulled at your sheets, he rubbed your clit viciously. It was a strange contrast to the gentle trusts of his fingers in your ass. “O-oh, Jungkook,” you moaned, forehead falling to rest on your hands. Ass and thighs jiggling, your legs began to tremble.

In quick, harsh motions, Jungkook repeatedly slapped your pussy before going back to rubbing it in the same rushed pace. High-pitched gasps filled your room and you felt your eyes already rolling back. A sudden bite on your asscheek made your head snap up. You looked at Jungkook over your shoulder and giggled a bit. He had a chunk of your ass in his mouth, teeth nibbling on the flesh while his tongue swirled around it.

Trying hard not to laugh with you, he held your gaze. “I couldn’t help it,” Jungkook chuckled with a little shrug.

You blushed and turned your head back to its previous place on your hands. “By all means,” you all but moaned, further arching your back to push your ass in his face, “indulge all you want.”

A satisfied hiss left him as he pulled his hands away from your pussy and slowly took his fingers out of your asshole. The expanded hole gaped at him, tempting him to do as you asked and simply indulge himself in you. However, he knew you still weren’t ready. Looking back at him, you pouted and moved to sit yourself up. If this was all just to tease and edge you, you were going to scream.

Jungkook placed his hand on the small of your back, silently urging you to stay in place. “Where’s the toy you used last night, darling?” he asked, easing all your frustrations away. Raising a brow, you silently questioned why. He mirrored your expression as he patiently waited for you to answer.

He wasn’t thinking of shoving that long toy in your ass, was he? Swallowing thickly, you hoped you had read the situation wrong. Of course you wanted it in your ass, you wanted it almost as much as you wanted his cock, but it was huge. It wasn’t the question of if you were willing but if you were able. Jungkook rubbed your ass, practically soothing your worries long enough for you to answer, “under the bed.”

Licking his lips, Jungkook made quick time, retrieving the toy and pulling it out of the pink stain pouch you kept it in. He smiled at it, biting his lip when his eyes met yours again. “You did a great job last night,” he said as he kissed the little bite mark he inflicted earlier. “Have I told you that yet?”

You shook your head as you tried to fight off a smile. Every part of you wished he’d just reveal what the fuck he was planning on using that for. You were growing more and more needy and impatient with each moment he wasn’t touching you where you really wanted him to. Pushing your hair to fall on the other side of your head, your eyes fluttered close. The length of the glass dildo finally rubbed between your folds. Jungkook coated it in your wetness before propping it up on the mattress, like you had done on the pavement of your balcony last night. One of his hands rested on your ass, easing your pussy down on the dildo. Relieved, a breathy moan left you.

“I need you to hold it, darling,” he murmured as your hips rolled into action, grinding on the toy. One of your hands reached under you, holding the dildo but the rounded base. “Good girl,” he praised with a gentle slap on both cheeks.

He pulled a big wad of spit from his throat, dropping it on your asshole again. Holding a cheek open with one hand, he used the wetness of his saliva to push three fingers in. Your hips stilled, a loud groan pouring out of you. Jungkook halted his fingers halfway, pushing at your tightening walls and spitting over your hole again. Silently ordering you to continue, he pushed your hips back down on the toy.

You resumed your movements, hissing at the blissful sting of your stretching walls. Relaxing was the only thing on your mind, the word looping in irregular circles in your head. The bed began to squeak under you as your hips bounced on the glass toy, bringing you closer to your orgasm. Pushing your face into your mattress, your other hand slipped under you and worked quick circles around your clit.

A loud moan tore through your throat at the sudden stretch of the glass toy that plugged your ass. Too consumed by the pleasure, you didn’t register the removal of his fingers. All your movements ceased and you lifted your head off the bed, chest heaving at the fullness of your ass, at the way the warm arrowhead shaped toy reached every part of you.

“Darling,” Jungkook cooed, rubbing his hands up and down your sides. His wet fingers smeared his spit on your skin. “Baby?” he tried again, lifting your hips off the toy.

You couldn’t reply. It wasn’t that you couldn’t find the words, but that you couldn’t find your voice, your strength to speak. Slowly, Jungkook flipped you over. Leaning over your near fucked out frame, he placed two wet kisses on your nipples.

“Clean this up,” he ordered when he stood back to his full height. He handed you the glass toy coated in your juice. You took it with both hands, licking yourself clean off it. Jungkook waited until you inserted it into your mouth before going down on you again.

Jeon Jungkook was a pussy eating fiend. You thought whatever the fuck he did before was heavenly, but this was downright hellish, cruel and absoulately sinful. Tongue a frenzy, Jungkook lapped and slurped every drop of your wetness, replacing it with his saliva. He slobbered all over folds, sucking on your clit like he owned it. His fingers shoved in and out of your pussy at an unholy pace, making your moans and whines tremble out of you. Shaking his head, he devoured your pussy. You knew that no matter what you did after being with him that you were never going to feel this good ever again. Helpless to his tongue, all you could do was roll your hips into his face and moan around the glass toy in your mouth.

Clenching tightly around him, you held back your still growing orgasm. No matter how badly you wanted to release the twisting knot in your abdomen, you kept reminding yourself that you needed permission. He always got angry when you came without asking first, expressing his distaste in growls at the end of the night and refusing to leave you new gifts the next morning.

“Ju-Jung-” you started as you pulled the toy out of your mouth. You had let it go beside you, the dildo laying somewhere around the bed.

“Not yet,” he growled against your heat, cutting you off. It only made you want to cum even more.

Toes curling, you squealed. He couldn’t seriously expect you not cum when he was practically feasting on your juices. “Please,” you screamed through a broken sob. It didn’t help at all that the butt plug was adding a whole other layer of pleasure in the way of fullness and pressure against your walls. “Fuck, just please let me cum, Jungkook. Please, please, please - Ah!” Your voice got caught in your throat as your orgasm washed over you. You didn’t receive permission but your body didn’t seem to care, releasing anyway.

Cum gushed all over his face. He growled loudly as his fingers brutally thrusted in and out of you, only making you cum harder. Body quaking, you released everything you were holding back, squirting it all over his face.

Jungkook gasped, standing back up to his full height to watch you shower his arm and abs in your juices. “Shit, baby,” he gaped at your squirming body. His fingers never missed a beat, moving just as viciously.

Bring your legs together, you tried to push his hands away but Jungkook pushed on your thighs back open, continuing his movements. “No, no,” he tsked, smirking down at you. “You want to cum without permission, then fucking cum.”

You looked up at him desperately through half lids, pouting to guilt him into forgiving you. When he didn’t react, you cried out loudly and attempted to push him away again. “It’s too much,” you choked out, tears pooling in your helpless eyes. The overstimulation and threatening tears hazed your vision, Jungkook’s frame and wings the only things slightly visible.

“You can do it,” Jungkook encouraged, moving his other hand to the top of your pussy. Using his knuckles, he pulled back at the skin and rubbed your clit with his thumb. “One more time, babe,” he smiled.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. The pleasure was overriding all your thoughts. Your fingers trembling against your lips, you gripped the sheets with your other hand. “Fuck, Jungkook,” you cried, tears streaming down your face now.

Jungkook must’ve felt your pussy clenching around his fingers again, and all but growled, “ask!”

“P-please.”

“Please what?” He was having too much fun, eyes gleaming with amusement.

A loud frustrated cry escaped you as you held back your orgasm once more. “Let me cum!” you ordered, adding a quiet “please” once you registered the challenging look on his face.

Jungkook took a deep breath, dragging this out much longer than he needed to. “Cum, dar-”

You didn’t listen to the rest, screaming as you came all over his fingers again. Eye rolling back, your body spasmed against the now wet mattress all while Jungkook stared down at you. “So precious,” he murmured as you fell limp, coming down from your high.

With your legs coming together, Jungkook finally pulled his fingers out. He licked them clean, right eye twitching at the taste of you. If you hadn’t just had his face between your legs, you would’ve thought that was his first time tasting you.

Your chest heaved as you tried to collect yourself from your orgasms. Jungkook leered over your body, wiping your tears away as he assessed how fucked out you looked. “You’re not ready to call it a night, are you?” he smirked before peppering your face with little kisses.

Shaking your head, you whispered, “no. I want you.” You couldn’t take him right now, body still trembling from the remnants of your orgasm. But, you sure as hell didn’t want him to know that.

Jungkook remained hovering over your sweat slick body, kissing down your neck as you lazily tangled your hands in his hair. Leaving little dark marks around your throat and collarbone, Jungkook whispered, “good ‘cause we’re just getting started, baby.”

As your soul re-entered your body after that other-worldly orgasm, you hugged his head closer to you. Moans and little gasps came out in whispers at his actions. Jungkook, noticing your change in demeanor, pulled away with a smile. He moved back to his previous place, standing at the foot of the bed, and pulled you up with him. Switching places with you, Jungkook sat on the bed and gently pushed you down on your knees by your shoulders.

Meeting your eye line, stood his huge, thick cock. Hard as a rock, it greeted you with a small squirt of precum leaking from his tip. When the fuck did he take his pants off? Between forcing another orgasm out of your and marking your skin, when the hell did he have time to take them off? And with all the toys he got you, he never thought to match them to his size. The long glass dildo you licked clean looked small compared to him. Upon further inspection, you realized that nothing could match him. He was too big to compare to. Your ass clenched tightly around the plug, making you moan with excitement.

Jungkook, you suddenly realized, was laughing to himself when he looked down at you. Right, he could read your mind. Meaning, he had heard every dirty thought you’ve had, every doubt that crossed your mind. He was lucky he was hot and that you were basically salivating at the sight of his cock, or else you would’ve acted out, refusing to give him the same attention he gave you.

“I’m sorry,” he said between fits of laughter. “You’re just so cute.” One of his hands ran through your hair, softening that annoyed look in your eyes.

Shifting closer to his cock, you stuck your tongue out and cat-licked a striped over his tip. A moan you couldn’t hold back sounded at the taste of him. Something about that one taste ignited something dark within you, jaw opening wide to accept his tip, and then some, into your mouth. Jungkook bit his lips, smiling fondly down at you as you sucked on his cock. You maintained eye contact, swirling your tongue all over the little bit in your mouth.

Never had you done anything like this before, the glass dildo you recently cleaned being the closest thing to sucking dick as you got before this experience. You didn’t even know what to do with your hands, keeping them fisted on your lap nervously.

Jungkook thought you were doing just fine though, using both his hands to pull your hair back into a makeshift ponytail. He used this new hold to guide your head further down his cock.

His tip hit the back of your throat, making you choke on it a bit. He stilled, watching you carefully. You inhaled deeply through your nose, nodded up at him to continue. Those blissful tears resurfaced as he pushed in further, just over half his cock down your throat. Your jaw was already aching and your tongue was having trouble staying down as he slowly throat-fucked you. You thought that maybe hollowing out your cheeks would help make up for the fact that you were clueless, and it did for a bit until you choked on him again. Discouraged, you staring up at him. Tears were streaming down your cheeks from both the stain of his cock in your mouth and embarrassment.

“You’re doing great, darling,” Jungkook smiled, groaning quietly as his hips buckled in your mouth. Another fit of gags took over, making you cry even more. Jungkook groaned louder, seeming to like the feeling of your contracting throat around his girth.

Shaky hands rested on his thighs, silently urging him to let you pull away. Immediately, Jungkook loosened his grip on your hair, still holding it back as you quickly pulled away from his cock. You coughed, gasping for air. Jungkook wiped your tears away with the pad of his thumb, tilting his head to get a better look at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you rasped, avoiding his gaze.

Jungkook tsked, shaking his head at you. “Why? You were doing great, baby,” he reassured, moving his head to try to meet your gaze. “Look at me,” he ordered. When you refused, he tightened his grip on your hair once more and tugged your head up to meet his eye. “It’s your first time, babe. I don’t expect you to take it all at once.” The softness of his tone felt strange when paired with the harsh grip he had on your hair.

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate his words; they did offer some comfort. It was the fact that you couldn’t give him what he had given you. He ate you out like he’d done it to you a million times. He already had every inch of you memorized. You simply felt discouraged at the fact that you hadn’t been able to match his level of that skill.

“You realize,” he started, probably having heard your thoughts again. “I’ve been watching you for a while. I have you memorized because you’re all I’ve seen every night. This is your first time,” he repeated. “Take it all; don’t take it all. I don’t fucking care. Just go with your gut, baby.”

Maybe it was his words, the sweet, comforting tone, his smile or the combination of the three, but you felt your confidence take over once more. You sat up on your knees, suddenly bringing your face up to his. His eyes widened but that smile never wavered. You nudged his nose with yours like he had done to you throughout the night, earning a little giggle, then pressed your lips to his. The simple act was enough to fully re-energize you.

Your hand finally found something to do, sliding off his thigh and wrapping around his cock. Fuck, he was heavy. You thought the weight was all in your head when you first had him in your mouth, thinking your mouth was just too small for him. That may also be the case, but he really was thick, his size further amazing you as your fingers couldn’t even meet your thumb. You broke the kiss just to glance down at him in your hand. Sighing happily down as his length, you moved your other hand to wrap around him too. You pumped him slowly, moving your hands up and down at a steady pace.

Jungkook kissed your cheek, smiling against your skin. Leaning his face against the side of yours, he moaned quietly. His hands fell away from your hair and down to your ass, rubbing your round cheeks and shaking them in his hands as you continued to pump him. You wanted to get used to his weight and girth before putting him back into your mouth. His fingers found the circular base of the plug, gently pushing it in. A loud gasp left you as your eyes widened at him. Jungkook tongued his cheeks while fighting off a smug smile. If he didn’t look so hot, you would’ve ceased all movements to punish him.

His hands left your ass after that halfthreat you thought, and rested on your breasts instead. His attention had been consumed by them since he first got you naked. He massaged them while your pace on his cock picked up. His fingered imprinted red marks on your skin with each squeeze and release.

A thought suddenly entered your mind. By the excited gleam in his eyes, you could tell he heard it and was extremely pleased by it too. He smirked as you shared a knowing look. Letting go of your breasts, Jungkook leaned his hands back on the bed, preparing to admire you at work.

You nervously giggled as you sat back on your legs and released your hold on his cock. Jungkook hissed a bit, biting his lip at the loss of contact. You paused for a moment, wondering if he was really impressed by your mediocre hand job or not. The annoyed look in his eyes froze all doubting thoughts and you focused on going through with your idea. Bringing your breast together, you slipped Jungkook’s cock between them.

Jungkook threw his head back, groaning loudly. “Holy fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Moving at the same steady pace you set before, you pumped his cock with your breasts. Instinctively, you found yourself spitting on it too, lubricating it to move smoother as you tit-fucked him.

Running a hand through his hair, he looked back down at you. The look in his eyes was enough to further spur you on and you summoned the courage to take his cock back in your mouth. You sucked harshly on the first half or so, swirling your tongue around him wildly all while your breasts squeezed tighter around him.

Pride swelled in your chest at the strangled groan that left him. Both his hands found their way back to your head, bunching your hair messily as his hips began to jolt up into your mouth again. Your breasts acted like bumpers, pushing into your jaw every time his hips pushed too far. You gagged a bit, but not as much as you did the first time, regaining your composure quickly.

Jungkook was relentless, fucking your face with a new amount of force each time. Throbbing in your mouth, his cock twitched a couple of times and Jungkook growled, tugging on your hair harshly. You only whined around his length in response, and he’d ease his grip only to tighten it harder the next time he thrusted. “I’m gonna cum,” he warned, opening his eyes to attentively watch you.

Bobbing your head, you signalled to him that you were ready and he released his load in you. Your cheeks filled up with the long spurts of cum and you struggled to deflate them since every time you swallowed he’d just fill them up again. You were chugging his cum by the time he was done, choking a bit with his cock still taking up space in your mouth too.

The winged god left go of you leaning back and stretching his wings a bit as he tried to catch his breath. Pulling him out of your mouth, you dropped your hands by your side and attempted to regulate your breathing too. His cock still stood tall, slightly throbbing for more attention as you stared at it. Was all immortal dick this easily reset for another round or was it just a Jungkook thing, like the way he swept his tongue on his cheek?

His eyes met yours again, a curious look swimming in them. Strands of his hair fell over his line of sight, but he was still able to watch you all the same, and looked extremely hot doing so. Sitting back comfortably, you realized he really was all ready to go for another round while you had needed a good five minutes to simply regain your composure.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you cleaned all the cum that escaped from the corners of your lips and got back up on your feet. Standing between his legs, you leaned your hands on his thighs and leered over his body like how he had done to you.

Jungkook smiled up at you, his sweaty, fit body glistening in the moonlight too now. He pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, tasting himself, then muttered, “you’re so gorgeous.” You gave him a cocky shrug of your shoulder and giggled. Pushing your messy hair away from your face, he chuckled along with you. “I should’ve come sooner,” he whispered.

And though you couldn't fully decide if he was speaking more to himself or you, but you still replied, “you should've.” He gave you an unreadable look, one that made you regret saying anything at all. You knew he wasn’t mad or disappointed, but the look alone was enough to poison your mind with worry.

His hands found your hips and he pulled you closer, kissing your lower belly. “I gotta be in you,” he suddenly announced. Gesturing back to the headboard, he began asking, “are you will-”

“Yes,” you cut him off, causing him to throw his head back with laughter.

Pushing his arms off your hips, you moved around him to crawl back on your bed. He lazily slapped your ass, earning a weird giggle that crossed with a gasp and moan. The gesture was casual and comfortable, like it was something the two of you did every night. And upon further reflection, you concluded that if it did happen every night, if he was here by your side every night, you wouldn’t mind it at all. Sex or not, his presence was comfortable and familar. Nothing about him made you feel stupid or unworthy. You didn’t necessarily want to worship him. That wasn’t the twisting, heart fluttering feeling gnawing in your chest. You wanted to rule with him, and being with him made you feel like you were.

As you made yourself comfortable on the bed, you wondered if he felt the same way about you. If he wanted more than to be inside you. There was a connection between the two of you, there was no denying that. But you couldn’t help but wonder if it extended beyond this physical point or not.

If Jungkook had an answer, if he had even heard you, he didn’t make it known. He simply followed after you, gazing at your pussy as you laid back on your pillows and spread your legs open for him. His wings were extended now as he crawled towards you, kissing up your stocking covered legs and moving up closer to your crotch.

Tensing up a bit, you brought your legs together. “No,” you breathed. Jungkook pulled away entirely, wings tucked back once more. Concerned washed over his face as he watched you carefully. “I don’t want your lips there this time,” you explained, sitting up to pull him back towards you. “Just please…” you trailed off, getting lost in his eyes.

Wings fanning out again, Jungkook smiled and nodded. He positioned himself between your legs, pulling them up to slide your body back down on the mattress. You gasped, flopping back down as he hooked your legs over his shoulders. Your toes brushed against his wings and you blushed at the softness of them.

Chewing on his lip, he rolled his head back. “Why do you keep doing that?” he asked with a little smile.

“They’re soft,” you replied, sliding your hands up and down his biceps. You didn’t know if he was flexing or not, but fuck were they firm. Each and every one of his hard muscles could be felt under your palms. “And you like it,” you added, half-dazed by the strength of his arms.

Jungkook breathed a little laugh as he leaned down over you. Chest to chest, his tip poked at your clit. The jolt of nerves mixed with the stretch of the arrowhead in you took your breath away and made your heart stutter it’s already unsteady rhythm. His hair fell over his face, hiding his wondrous eyes from view so you gently pushed a strand back and curled it behind his ear.

Smiling, he dipped his head to kiss you. It wasn’t like the others you’ve shared. There was still that desire and passion mixed with hints of lust, but this kiss mostly held sincerity and emotion. You felt something deep in your soul as your lips moved against each other; you almost felt whole.

There was no way for you to confirm if he felt it too, his face remaining unreadable the moment he pulled away. However, that look in his eyes told you that this unclear expression was forced, like he was purposefully putting up a wall to shield you from the emotion that would otherwise be written all over his face. Still, something deep inside you trusted that he did feel it.

Tensions were heavily falling over the little space between you too. You knew he could tell what you were feeling by the look in your eyes and he most likely heard every one of your thoughts, unsure how to proceed. And though you wanted to talk to him about it, you couldn’t forget the fact that his tip was still brushing against you and that you were both in rather compromising positions. The neediness in you began to resurface, your brows furrowing with annoyance at his delay. Swallowing thickly, you finally broke the silence, whispering, “you know, you could still stare while fucking me.”

Jungkook blinked repeatedly, once vacant eyes returning back to you. That smile easily found its way on his lips, which still continued to hover dangerously close to yours. Without much thought or movement, he aligned himself with your entrance and slowly pushed in. From the way his tip had already stretched you out, you knew you were definitely going to need a moment to adjust to him. Your moans collided, noses brushing against one another, dare you think, lovingly.

“Ah-yah, so fucking tight,” he breathed to himself.

So big, you thought, pussy clenching and trying to adjust to his size. There was a newfound fullness within you that you had never felt before when his cock finally bottomed out. His cock, remaining still inside you, and that plug, still pushed in deep, made you shiver with pleasure. You arched your back, further pushing your breasts into his chest. Jungkook smiled, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you even closer, if possible, and his other hand wrapping around your throat. He waited for your approval to move then lightly squeezed your throat as his hips began thrusting slowly into you. His eyes rolled back, mouth agape in a little smile at the sound of your tiny moans just passing through your lips.

You moaned out his name, hands falling by your side on the mattress to grip onto the sheets. His grip tightened as his thrust got faster, mattress squeaking and headboard banging. Your sounds only got louder too, cursing and begging him to go faster. His cock, so fucking huge reached every bit of you. By the fifth thrust he had found your spot, ramming into it while he all but silenced your moans with the grip he had on your throat.

Your body was quaking, eyes lost somewhere between opened and closed and mouth hung open. It was like you were already ruined, destroyed by his cock and you hadn’t even cum yet. Jungkook hovered his mouth over yours, spitting into it once more. You swallowed happily, meeting his dark gaze.

He looked even hotter laying over you than he did towering over you. You were able to see every crinkle around his concentrated eyes and the wrinkles around his brows as he furrowed them. His nose was scounched up a bit and lips in almost a scowl as he pounded his hips into yours. Skin on skin smacks echoed in your ears, his weight balls slapping against your ass.

That look in his eye returned, the vacant, unreadable one. You opened your mouth for another wad of his spit but he kissed the corners of our lips, hips slowing down. The force behind them still caused the headboard to repeatedly slam into the walls, most likely denting it. “Jungkook,” you squeaked, lips coming together in a pout.

Jungkook released your throat, the proper amount of oxygen rushing to your head again, over taking you with pleasure, and he wrapped his other arm around your waist too. He held you tightly in place, bringing your body down on his cock as well. “Yes, darling,” he purred, running the bridge of his nose along your cheek.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, returning that tight hold he had on you, you murmured, “harder.”

He immediately obliged, ramming his hips into yours with an all new force that would have had your head knocking against the metal bars of the headboard had he not held you in place the way he did. Your moans peaked with his, and your pussy clenching tightly around his throbbing cock deep in you. Toes curling, eyes rolling back, Jungkook didn’t need to read your mind to know how close you were.

“Look at me,” he purred, gazing into your eyes. Trying your best to open them, you stared back at him, awaiting your next instructions. “You don’t need to ask this time. Just look at me,” he whispered.

With that and one more powerful thrust, you came undone, screaming out his name like a mantra. Your body wasn’t just spasming at this point; it was convulsing against his, further shaking the bed as your orgasm slammed you. You tried to hold his gaze as he asked, but it was extremely difficult given the fact that your eyes kept rolling back involuntarily from the wave of sheer ecstasy washing over you. Jeon Jungkook had ruined you, breaking your mind in the process with his monster cock. And for that you would be forever grateful.

But he wasn’t done. His eyes remained on you, face further twisting with pleasure as he helped you ride out your high. He continued to thrust himself into you until he pulled in so deep, you thought you felt the imprint of his cock bulging out of your stomach, and released ropes of his cum. He pumped you full of him, growling as his wings fully expanded. The moonlight outlined his frame like a halo and you couldn’t decide if your pussy had just been destroyed by a god or angel.

Those wings remained extended as he lifted himself up and off you. Your legs fell limp off his shoulders and onto the mattress as you untangled your arms from one another. Tenderly, Jungkook pulled out of you. You sat up a bit and pulled on the top part of your pussy to watch your mixed cum leak out of you. It looked as good as it felt, making your shiver with excitement.

Finding Jungkook's eyes, you shyly smiled at him. He returned it, holding the base of his cock and slapping your pussy. The first jolt of overstimulated nerves was enough for you to pull your thighs together and into your chest, making Jungkook laugh.

“Spread’em,” he muttered, running his hands over your legs.

You smiled innocently and shook your head. As hot as that pussy slapping move was, you couldn’t take another bit of overstimulation.

“You wanna keep that plug in all night?” he asked.

Fuck, you forgot that was in there a second. Your ass had become so comfortable with the stretch that it almost felt normal. Or maybe your body was used to pleasure at this point and not able to register such little amounts of it.

Complying, you spread your legs for him once more. Jungkook quickly dipped his head between your legs, lapping up your cum. You shreeched, tugging at his hair. “Just a bit more,” he mumbled against your sensitive hole, sticking his tongue in to dig all the cum out. “Don’t you wanna try,” he questioned with a mouthful of your pussy. His head came up and he brought his lips to yours, clearly holding something in his mouth.

Curiosity got the best of you and you kissed him, opening your mouth to accept the cum he had collected from your pussy. You moaned against his lips at the taste, swallowing the moment you pulled away. The two of you were a fucking mess, faces smeared with cum and bodies dripping with sweat. You loved it. You hoped the lost look in his eyes meant that he loved it too.

Jungkook’s hands fiddled with the plug and he advised you to take a deep breath before he slowly pulled it out. Whimpering softly, you felt your hole gap and clench around emptiness. He placed the plug on your night stand and smiled at you.

“Thanks for the new toy,” you smiled back.

He placed a sweet kiss on your cheek. Blushing, you fell back onto the mattress, half expecting him to join you. Fatigue also called on him, this you knew well because that usually smug smile was getting a bit lazily and his eyes were drooping. However, Jungkook pushed himself off the bed instead.

Confusion masked the subtle look of heartbreak as you sat back up to find him tucking his wings. Your voice was basically gone, little whispers and whimpers the only thing that you’re able to make out at this point but still you found it in you to ask, “you’re leaving?”

Jungkook looked up at you, bare frame illuminated but the moonlight. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the balcony doors. Your attention flickered there too and you gulped understanding his intentions. If he didn’t want to stay then he wasn’t going to, you decided. Maybe you read everything wrong, maybe the lust fogged your mind so much so that you really thought he cared more about you for more than just a night.

“Then go,” you shrugged, laying back in bed. You shuffled a bit to cover your body with the sheets, tugging them over you until you felt the bed dip at your side. Huffing, you sat up again and glared at him.

Jungkook looked at you as he made himself comfortable on your bed, wings folded tight beneath him. His muscular arm got tucked under his head and he waited for you to join his side with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You don’t need to do me any favours,” you said, trying to hold his gaze without a hint of sadness peeking through. “You clearly want to go.”

“That’s not true,” he murmured, shifting closer to you. His hints for you to lay down weren’t lost on you, and if he hadn’t gotten away from you as quickly as he did, you would’ve fallen for them. But the burn of your ego and pride still festered in your chest, not letting you live your humiliation down. “I want to stay, (Y/N),” he whispered.

It was the first time he’d used your name, previously calling on your attention with pet names. That probably should’ve been your first clue that this was quite simple so a one night stand. The use of your name made you freeze though. Was it a trick to get you to drop this or did he use it to show you how much he meant what he said?

“You know the answer,” he replied.

Meeting his gaze, you bit your lip. His features only reflected honesty, so plain and pure that you couldn’t deny the truth in front of you. With a sigh, you laid back into bed, resting your head on his chest. Jungkook combed his fingers through your hair, brushing all your worries away.

Hugging his torso, you nuzzled your face into his chest and quietly asked, “will I be seeing you again tomorrow?”

Jungkook gently massages your scalp, drawing you closer into sleep. “There’s a good chance you might,” he rasped, voice thick with fatigue. He brought his lips to the top of your head and whispered, “if you will it enough.”

Those words recalled one of his first confessions of the night. I couldn’t resist your prayers, he had told you.

You let your eyes flutter shut and silently prayed for the rest of your nights to begin and end with the gracious, amourous presence of Eros.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #btsgoldnet #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #greek god jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook

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firewoodfigs · 4 years

Text

no matter the hearts you burn, in mine you shall always remain

read on ao3

[I highly recommend reading on ao3 instead because of the long notes. also because I have no idea how to centralise things on Tumblr 🤣]

for @moms-made-fullmetal-2020, day 7: farewells and new beginnings. thank you once again @waddiwasiwitch for organising such a lovely event!

Summary: The label ‘bastard’ bears multiple meanings for Roy Mustang, who is the result of a dangerous, illicit affair between two childhood lovers. The story begins in an Imperial Court, deep in the heart of Xing.

Translations:

要选 (yào xuǎn) means "want to choose", but Yao Xuan’s name would probably be written as 姚璇 (yáo xuán) in Xingese. The first character is a common Chinese surname and what I’m guessing is the Xingese equivalent for the Yao clan, and the second character means “jade”. Hence why Yao Xuan mentions that her name is a wordplay on “choice” later on.

亲爱的 (qīn ài de) - dear; a term of affection.

再见 (zài jiàn) - farewell, goodbye.

心肝 (xīn gān) - darling; a term of endearment. However, translated literally, it means “heart and liver”.

A/N: I know Ling’s name in FMA is structured as Ling Yao, but for the purposes of this fic I rearranged the name such that the clan name comes first - hence Yao Xuan instead of Xuan Yao (in part because the latter has a different meaning). It’s also common for surnames to come first for Chinese names.

Songs: Chrysanthemum Terrace, Endless Love

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

The Imperial Court is a terribly lonely place.

Underneath every smile plastered on perfect porcelain is a heart that mourns and yearns for a life outside the palace. Engraved on walls of gold and jade are recurring motifs of phoenixes and dragons, a reminder to all the concubines sequestered within to remember who they serve. Who their heart rightfully belongs to for the rest of their lives.

The Supreme Eminence, the Sovereign Emperor.

Her fate is inescapable from the day she was born. You are the oldest daughter of the Yao clan, Yao Xuan. It is your duty to produce an heir for the Emperor, for us. She doesn’t have a say in the matter, doesn’t have a choice, because her destiny has been plotted out like a graph from birth.

It’s only been months since she entered the Imperial Court as a concubine, but Yao Xuan finds herself already suffocated by the politics and overwhelming expectations of perfection that line every crevice, every footstep. Mornings are a particularly tiresome affair - she awakes even before the sun rises, to begin dressing up for a man that she’s frankly not even interested in.

But he owns your life now.

The entire thing is ritualistic, but doesn’t offer a sliver of comfort like a religious ritual might have. She sinks gracefully into the warm bathtub filled with red petals for her at six in the morning, before letting the ladies under her dry and tug at her raven tresses methodically. It hurts - the teeth of the jade comb stabs at her scalp mercilessly, and is an added weight to the already heavy burden on her shoulders. Her face is powdered alabaster with lead, eyebrows darkened with charcoal and lips painted a bright crimson, before she’s swathed tightly in gold satin and scarlet silk.

Though red represents prosperity in Xing, she finds there is nothing prosperous about dressing up everyday for a man who only spares her a momentary glance as he scans the throng of women lined up orderly at the paulownia pavilion for him.

Who shall it be today, Your Majesty?

Secretly, Yao Xuan begs for the Emperor to not pick her for the night, in spite of the pleasant, seductive smile that tugs at her lips mechanically whenever he saunters past her. His eyes scan her like she’s nothing more than a slab of meat at the market, and she finds her heart shattering every time she remembers a man who looked at her like she was the world to him.

Christopher Mustang. He’s nothing more than a forbidden fruit now, but it’s the fact that he’s dangled in front of her that exacerbates the cruelty. Once he was her childhood lover, but now he’s a soldier - General Mustang - in the Imperial Court who’s sworn fealty to the same sovereign entity.

She wishes this was not their destiny, but fate is cruel and ineluctable and they can only share forlorn, fleeting glances whenever she strolls past him after another day of rejection to return to the royal chambers with the other ladies to dabble in senseless politicking disguised by equally mindless embroidery.

Sewing has never been one of Yao Xuan’s talents, but there’s really nothing else to do in the stifling confines of the palace. Her fingers ache as she pricks herself with the needle, but it pales in comparison to the pain that shreds through her as she laments for a love and desire buried deep within by the immeasurable weights of duty and destiny.

~x~

Years pass, and spring comes in full bloom.

Yao Xuan is a wonderful sight to behold in the warmth of spring. Her cheeks are suffused in pink, mirroring the petals falling delicately above her, a lilac robe embracing her magnificent figure. But in spite of her beauty the Emperor waltzes past her in his full regalia without even passing a glance, and with every step she finds her self-worth getting trampled on.

The other members of the Yao clan have expressed their displeasure many, many times at the very apparent lack of an heir, but there’s nothing she can do. It’s all a matter of chance, and there’s nothing she can do to improve her luck: concubines are not allowed into the Emperor’s room unless they’re chosen.

(It’s strangely paradoxical, because her name’s a wordplay on choice, but she’s neither chosen nor given a choice.)

The routine repeats itself: she returns to her chambers after receiving a severe scolding from the other members of the Yao clan for being utterly, utterly useless. The only thing that stings is the needle - she refuses to let tears sting her eyes in front of them. Instead, she bows her head subserviently and promises to do better the next time, but her feet wander when night falls.

Yao Xuan finds herself at the paulownia pavilion again, admiring the lotuses that float gracefully atop shallow waters and decorate them in flecks of white and pink.

Purity and enlightenment.

There’s nothing enlightening about her entire predicament - she doesn’t know what else can be done to make herself more attractive to the Emperor, but every dismissal comes with disapproval and disappointment, and it’s a painful pill to swallow. It sits uncomfortably in her gut as she drums her fingers against the chrysanthemum-coloured balustrades to distract herself from the nauseating feeling bubbling in her throat.

“Lady Yao? What are you doing out here so late at night?” The familiar voice of her childhood lover abates the nausea a little.

“Just thinking, General Mustang.” She turns to look at him, but her resolve crumples along with her face when she witnesses his kind, strong stature under the moonlight. There’s nothing more I want than to be with you, qīn ài de.

“Are you alright?” General Mustang stands with a respectable distance between them, but she sees love and sincerity pooling in his eyes, and her own desire that she’s tried to suppress since her entrance to the Imperial Court makes a fiery resurgence.

“... I’m not,” and she begins to cry. Instinctively, he wants to embrace her, whisper sweet nothings into her crown of black tresses, but he can’t.

General Mustang grips the hilt of his blade in an attempt to resist temptation, but she inches forward daintily to reach for his hand, and his resolve likewise falters. He automatically responds in kind when she rests her palm on his, and he’s quick to intertwine his fingers around hers, tracing circles on the back of her palm while murmuring soothing platitudes.

In the end, years of suppressed desire inundates them, and despite the alarm bells ringing in their heads their feet move involuntarily, as if possessed by some kind of uncontrollable automatism, towards Yao Xuan’s chambers. She disrobes, he disarms, and their bare bodies finally become one in the darkness.

There’s nothing pure about their union, only immoral, but it’s the first time they’ve felt happiness after an eternity of loneliness and despair.

~x~

sentenced to death

even before you were born curse the stars, cruel fate — they have damned you! but i knew, even then you were born to be loved in my womb, in my heart i carry you with all my love.

~x~

She’s not sure if the nausea is due to the tempestuous storm of emotions writhing in her gut after enduring incessant reprimands and lashings from the other members of the Yao clan, or the symptoms of something a lot more petrifying.

But it persists for weeks, and she’s late.

Late.

A terrifying consequence after an illicit affair. It goes without saying that they’ll both be executed upon discovery, for it is impossible that this is the Emperor’s scion. After all, he’s never even laid a hand on her, and the only logical conclusion is that the child growing inside her belongs to her lover.

The inevitable fate that awaits them is only death and dishonor. They would face opprobrium in its most unadulterated form, no doubt, and she would be exiled from the Yao clan for the shame she’s brought to her family’s name.

Yao Xuan could bear dying alone, being humiliated and scorned by her clan, but the thought of her lover and her unborn child being murdered alongside her kills her.

An unborn, innocent child who has done nothing wrong except exist.

Despite the wrongness of the whole situation, there’s a part of her that’s secretly elated - excited, even. For this was the fruit of their love, and her heart was already beginning to bloom with adoration for her son. Or daughter, but her maternal instincts convince her that it will be a son.

Fortunately, she’s not selected by the Emperor that day. Yao Xuan endures the rest of the day with as much normalcy as she can before making her way to a secluded veranda at night that’s a safe spot away from prying eyes.

She spots General Mustang, who has received her note earlier in the day to meet her here at midnight, and walks to his side.

“What’s the matter, Lady Yao?”

Yao Xuan doesn’t speak. Instead, she bends over gracefully to pick up three abandoned petals on the ground and lifts it up to his eyes, her other hand resting on the barely discernible swell of her stomach.

General Mustang’s eyes widen. They’ve known each other for years, and it’s easy for him to understand her message immediately.

Pregnant. With our child.

He closes the remaining distance between them and splays an open palm on her stomach.

“I plan to run away with this child, General.” Alone. The implication is clear - she doesn’t want him to be involved, doesn’t want him to be stripped of his title and suffer a dishonorable discharge and be executed.

But there’s nothing more dishonorable than leaving the woman I love to go through this alone. “Not by yourself, Yao Xuan.”

She pushes his palm away gently from her stomach, and meets his gaze with a stern one, trying not to let his use of her full name unwind her. “Yes, General. I will not do this to you - not after you’ve worked so hard to get to where you are now.”

“You’re more important than all of that,” he murmurs, but there’s an edge to his voice that makes it crystal clear that he’s made up his mind, and there’s nothing she can do that will deter him from acting upon it. He clasps a firm hand around her wrist. “Let’s go.”

Yao Xuan casts a final glance at the overbearing silhouette of the palace grounds before whispering a quiet apology to her sister - they’re ten years apart in terms of age, but it will be her turn to bear the unbearable burden of being a concubine this time - as she elopes with her lover and a stomach that’s beginning to swell with life.

Together, they traverse through the desert with nothing to their name, but full of love for their unborn child.

~x~

the stars stare down at you as we traverse through the desert. the night is cold but here you will stay warm, within me. you are a blessing, God’s gift to me. a journey thus sublime — you must live, new life.

~x~

Her son’s birth had been a difficult one, and life afterwards with her husband as fugitives in the harsh desert wasn’t easy. But she’s surprisingly content. Happy, even, with the simple domesticity that they’ve been blessed with, and whenever Yao Xuan looks at the innocent bundle of joy in her arms she smiles with the knowing conviction that they’d made the right choice.

She can’t help but think that their beloved son - Roy Mustang - is perfection in a swath of linen the first time she sees him, and she loves him with such a fierce tenderness that it engulfs her completely - even more than her love for her husband. Chris shares the same sentiments, and they both share an unspoken consensus that they would die for him instantaneously should the need arise, without second thought.

And like a fulfilled prophecy, the need does arise.

Roy Mustang is a little toddler of four, brimming with innocuous delight whenever his mother reads to him about the basics of science, before reciting tales of knights in shining armour slaying evil dragons that breathe fire afterwards.

(His father has a nice voice, too, and Roy is equally delighted whenever he reads to him, but he finds himself preferring his mother’s voice to his bright tenor.)

Yao Xuan rests a hand endearingly on his arm, and Roy thinks there’s nothing like the warmth of her bosom as he snuggles in adorably. The gentle lull of her voice has an almost soporific effect, and he finds himself slowly dozing off.

Until his father barges in. He speaks with a pitch higher than Roy is accustomed to, and the panic radiating off his body, his every movement, causes him to stir slightly. “We need to go now, Yao Xuan. They’ve found us.”

The book she’d been reading earlier falls to the ground unceremoniously with a loud thud, jolting Roy awake. “What’s wrong, mama? Papa?” He blinks, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes blearily. At the sight of the fallen book, he picks up the book immediately and brushes off any imaginary specks of dust, grabbing it firmly with his tiny hands.

“We need to run, son,” she picks him up deftly, allowing Roy to rest on her shoulder while stroking his tuft of raven hair with trembling hands.

Together they begin to run through the desert, Roy’s eyes wide as he takes in the stars gleaming brightly overhead and the cold wind slapping his face, but the wind and stars are not their only companion. His parents hear footsteps inching towards them, metal clanging against armor and know that they’re close to getting ambushed.

Is this it? The punishment for our sins?

“Stop right there, the both of you.”

General Mustang stiffens. That voice…

“General Lan Yan?” he calls. It’s difficult to make out the man’s identity, especially when he’s decked in black from head to toe and has a mask on, but he would recognise that voice anywhere.

The masked man removes his visor to confirm General Mustang’s thoughts, as the other soldiers draw their swords, inching closer to form an inescapable circle around the two traitors.

“We’re trapped, aren’t we?” Yao Xuan whispers to her husband. She holds her son closer to her as he starts sobbing into her shoulder, his young mind confused and scared by the dangerous-looking strangers swarming around them.

(The only people Roy knew who wielded swords were the knights from fairytales, and the men around him looked nothing like heroes.)

“We’re under orders from the Emperor to execute the both of you,” General Lan Yan announces, eyes steeled in resolve but with a tremulous edge in his voice. He winces at the thought of being ordered to kill a former comrade, a friend.

A friend who he had once admired, trained with and fought against. Years ago, they’d started out with relatively bad impressions of each other. Lan Yan had thought he was an arrogant bastard, even though everyone called him the golden boy because of his impressive swordsmanship and mastery of alkahestry. On the other hand, Christopher Mustang was inclined to think of him as a rival, an annoying panderer, given that he was constantly trying to one-up him.

But they’d eventually grown to become close friends, for they were more alike than they thought. Not only did they have similar tastes in food and literature, but they’d shared the same ideals and hopes for the future of Xing as well.

How terrible that we have to be reunited like this, my friend. The words, though unspoken, lingered on the tip of their tongues.

“I only ask that you spare my son, General Lan Yan,” And my wife, but I know that’s asking for too much.

“... Very well, General Mustang. I’ll give you and Lady Yao five minutes,” he states. Beside him, a masked man begins to prepare lethal poison in two silver cups.

“Thank you, General Lan Yan.” An indescribable gratitude fills General Mustang’s voice, as his wife’s cries begin to mirror his son’s sobs.

Sorrow, sympathy and guilt tugs at General Lan Yan’s heartstrings as he looks at the terrified child in Lady Yao’s arms. His mind races, cogs working in overdrive, scrambling for a final favour he could do for General Mustang. He couldn’t save him or his wife, but perhaps he could save his son - after all, the Emperor had made no mention about executing the product of their affair.

The least I can do for my best friend would be to bring his child to safety.

“... To my sister. Across the desert, in Amestris, there’s a tavern in Central called The Blue Porcelain. Please bring him there for me.”

“I will do that, General Mustang. On my honor - you have my word.”

Four minutes left. “Listen, Roy, we’re going to have to say goodbye here,” Yao Xuan whispers softly, but she can’t restrain her voice from cracking at the thought of having to bid her precious son farewell.

“Why, mama?” Roy sobs, tightening his hold around her neck while still clutching onto the book with a vice-like grip.

“... Your father and I did some wrong things in the past. But listen carefully, xin gan.” A term of endearment, but Yao Xuan feels like her heart and liver are being ripped apart from her at the moment as she loosens his arms to look him in the eye. “We’re going to send you to live with your aunt, but I want you to be good for her, okay? I know she will love you as much as I do, if not more.”

She runs a thumb across his soft, wet cheeks, savouring the feeling and ingraining it in her memory. “Make sure you eat well everyday, shower twice a day. Study hard, and do your best in school. Don’t skive off. Be kind to those around you, and… and I hope you grow up to be a wonderful man like your father.” Yao Xuan weeps, tears mixing with her son’s. “There will be bright days, rainy days, but I know that you will come to find people who care about you as deeply as I do. And no matter what you do… know that we will always love you, Roy.”

“I love you too, mama, but don’t go, please,” Roy begs. He’s not quite sure what’s going on around him - they were the heroes and heroines in the books they read to him, and they were supposed to protect him, not abandon him.

What does that mean? Will I see them again?

General Mustang rubs at his eyes impatiently. “We have to, Roy. I love you, and I know that you will grow up to be a fine man. I know you’ll surpass me.” He flashes Roy a watery smile as he places a warm hand on his forehead, but it’s full of faith and certitude.

This is our son, after all.

“I love you too, papa. I need you,” Roy pleads with all the desperation of a child who wanted nothing more than to be with his parents every day.

Their hearts shatter when General Lan Yan signals that their time is almost up. Ten seconds.

“Be strong, son. We’re so sorry,” Yao Xuan mourns as Roy is pried from her arms and lifted onto a horse by General Lan Yan. “Zai jian, xin gan,” she bids farewell solemnly as she watches his small, struggling frame disappear in the dark, unforgiving night, deserting them to face their death. The wind carries his desperate wails, and for the first time since her pregnancy the nausea is back with a wrathful vengeance.

But it won’t be here to stay this time.

She crosses an arm with her husband as they receive the cups of poison with unwilling hands, pulses beating violently as they repeat their vows of undying love to each other for the last time.

Farewell, my son.

~x~

your first breath, first taste of this wretched world: a cry of triumph, a fist of victory, a defiance of death. my soul sings into satin and linen: affection for perfection.

~x~

It doesn’t take long for Roy to cry himself to sleep. His petite body shuts down quickly from the sheer exhaustion of doing so, and he’s out like a light soon enough as he traverses across the desert with General Lan Yan. When he’s awoken by the onslaught of a particularly harsh wind and what sounds like an oncoming sandstorm, he’s pulled back into sleep by a gentle force on his pressure point.

Suddenly, he’s roused from his slumber by someone shaking him, and as he cracks an eyelid open to peer out the window he realises that - wait, this is not the desert. The scene around him is a stark contrast to the vast expanse of sand and ochre that he’s used to. The alleys that they pass by are narrow, and they reek of something unfamiliar. It’s unpleasant. Roy doesn’t like it.

Then the memory of what happened hits him like a truck, and he begins to bawl again even as he’s brought out into the sunlight, towards a strange-looking establishment. It’s nothing like Roy has ever seen in his life, and though it’s significantly cooler he finds himself already longing for the desert heat beating on his back.

The Blue Por… He tries to read the sign on the door, but it’s a word too big for his age.

General Lan Yan raps on the door while keeping a steady hand on the boy’s sobbing frame. “Miss Mustang?”

The door opens to reveal a gruff-looking woman. “What?” Roy finds himself intimidated by the woman’s brusque and domineering persona. She’s decked in a plum-coloured dress with lips to match, with mother-of-pearls and gold branched around her neck like a collar. Her hair and eyes are jet black, like Roy’s and his parent’s, but he finds that she looks nothing like his mother, who’s kind and sweet and -

- he bursts into tears again.

“What’s going on?” The Madame asks, bewildered by the sight of a crying child and a man who, from his ostentatious armor and features is obviously from Xing. There’s a sense of guilt lingering within her when she looks upon the distressed child, so she stretches out to rest an awkward hand on his unruly black hair (which reminds her a little of her brother’s, who’s never been known to make acquaintance with a comb).

“Your brother…” General Lan Yan straightens, chiding himself mentally for letting his tongue slip. “General Mustang said to bring your nephew here, miss.”

My nephew. Nephew.

God, she wasn’t even aware that her brother had a son. How did he even find the time to raise a child while serving in the Xingese military?

“That’s Madame Christmas to you, and where’s my brother?”

“I hate to inform you of this, Madame Christmas. He is dead.” There’s a certain fluidity in his response that disguises his remorse, his reluctance, but his eyes prickle marginally at the thought of his deceased friend and his wife.

Christmas feels like he’s just thrown her under a moving train. “Don’t joke around.”

“I… I am afraid not. I’m here to carry out his last wish,” General Lan Yan replies somberly. Beside him, the child fidgets, gripping onto the book he’d brought along with him so hard that the edges begin to leave marks on his palms.

“How?”

“... It is not my place to say, Madame. We’ve been silenced by a royal decree,” and it’s true. She wants to go after the man with a quick fist, but there’s nothing that belies the brutal veracity of his statement on his expression.

Christmas swallows the painful lump in her throat before choking out her next words. “And what… what was his last wish?” I definitely need a drink after this.

“He only said to bring the child to you. I assume he intended for you to raise him as well.”

“... Where’s his mother?” It’s more rhetorical than anything, but Christmas wanted to believe that there could be a different answer by some stroke of luck.

“Dead, as well,” he whispers, and Roy’s cries amplify tenfold as he flinches away from the General’s hand - his hand reminded him of the villains in the stories his mother would read aloud to him - and huddles into itself.

“... I see.” She pauses for a moment to take in his frail frame. “Well, I’ll be taking him, then,” she motions for Roy to come over before gesturing for the General to leave.

(As much as she wanted to flip a finger, she realised that she would have to rethink some habits now that she had a child under her wing.)

“Thank you, Madame Christmas. I entrust the boy into your care,” he bows before turning to leave, glancing at the boy’s shuddering figure for one last time before returning back to the carriage.

Here’s to a new beginning for your son, General Mustang, Lady Yao. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for the both of you.

~x~

It takes time for the child to adjust to the novelty of his new home, his new beginning. But eventually, he does.

Aunt Chris and his mother are two worlds apart. For starters, they looked nothing alike. And where his mother was delicate and soft, Aunt Chris was loud and rough.

Nevertheless, they are alike in some ways, he learns. Roy’s the only boy in the bar, as he later learns it’s called, and despite her initial crabbiness Aunt Chris is surprisingly tactile and nice. It doesn’t take long for her to grow fond of the boy, the same way the girls in the bar fawn over him from the moment he steps in. He’s rather petulant and sullen initially, but this doesn’t come as a shock for someone who lost his parents at such a tender age.

When Roy first arrived at The Blue Porcelain he’d holed himself up in the room assigned to him, reading the only book he’d brought from home over and over again (Roy also discovered that his mother had left a poem, a letter of sorts within, and he never went anywhere without it - he treated it like a talisman).

But Aunt Chris doesn’t let him sulk for long.

No matter how grouchy he was, she would always drag him out forcibly for dinner, and made a conscious effort to talk to him daily even though he clearly wasn’t the biggest conversationalist around. She’d tried reading bedtime stories to him, even, and indulged him when he whined about wanting to hear about princesses and knights.

Where his mother’s voice was like silk, hers was a lot more like gravel. Nevertheless, Roy eventually comes to appreciate it, and would even look forward to their nightly sessions where he could tell her all about what he’d learnt at school that day.

Aunt Chris also nags at him the same way his own mother did - she’s always yammering at him to finish his food, hold his chopsticks properly or do his homework, and while it gets on his nerves occasionally he comes to understand that it’s their way of showing affection.

It’s therefore a no-brainer for him to draw both his aunt and his mother when he’s assigned with the task of producing an artwork of his mother for school, but when he shows it to Aunt Chris she begins to tear up.

He’s puzzled. Am I really that bad at art?

“What’s wrong, Aunt Chris?”

“Nothing, boy. It’s lovely,” she says sincerely.

Roy grins. “My teacher said so, too. I’ve been doing well in all my other subjects in school too, you know. Top of the class,” he chirps happily, puffing out his chest a little in pride.

“That’s wonderful, Roy-boy. I’m sure you’ll grow up to be a great man one day, like your father.”

“... Really?” There’s a certain melancholy that laces his voice, as if he was unsure of himself.

His aunt, on the other hand, is unequivocal that he would. She was no fortune teller, but there was a fire that illuminated his eyes. The mark of a warrior, a leader. “Absolutely. You’re destined for greatness, my boy.”

(Roy didn’t know this yet, but he would one day negotiate treaties on behalf of his country with a future distant relative and ascend to a rank higher than his father’s so that he could marry the woman he loved without any ramifications.)

~x~

(look, a bastard child!) no, you will embark towards glorious greatness. life doomed you once, but in your hands it shall soon rest. hear me now. heart and hearth: keep them ablaze, alight. no matter the ones you burn, in mine you shall always remain.

~x~

The war-torn desert reminds Major Mustang of a childhood memory that he’s tried to suppress for a long, long time. With every howl of the wind, the ache in his heart only grew stronger. Hotter. Like an inferno threatening to consume his innards.

He’d always been acutely aware of the pain of having your parents ripped apart from you in front of your very eyes. It was the kind of anguish that abated only slightly with time, but then and now grief would come back with a vengeance. Always, in the most unexpected of moments.

And yet here he was, doing the exact same thing years later.

Spare no one, the decree says. In response, The Flame Alchemist obeys.

Destined for greatness, my ass.

He would have liked to seek out a certain childhood friend for comfort, but he couldn’t bear to touch her. Not like this. Not when he’d stained his hands scarlet, not when he’d been a contributing factor to her involvement in the war. In any case, he highly doubted that she wanted to be even associated with him at this point, which suited him fine. He didn’t deserve her.

Not in the least, you monster.

The whiskey does nothing to assuage the emotional storm brewing within him. A distasteful mix of sorrow, compunction, longing. Alcohol, he realised, could not bring him absolution or erase his sins. It only offered a brief respite, a numbing agent.

Major Mustang sinks onto the floor of the weather-beaten tent as he digs inside his pockets for an old poem that had offered him comfort since he was five, even before his vocabulary was wide enough to comprehend its intended message.

He hadn’t cried, not since the war happened, but his mother’s predictions had been eerily accurate. Prophetic, even. For indeed life rested in his hands - with a snap, he could destroy an entire population; he’d burnt so many hearts, so many hearths, that his were now darkened with despair and remorse.

I really am a bastard of the most reprehensible kind, aren’t I?

Lost in a pool of words and grief, he misses the presence of a blonde girl who was only slightly shorter, younger than he was. Riza Hawkeye comes in through the tent flap and stares at him wordlessly. She sees him grasping tightly onto a familiar piece of crumpled parchment, as if it was the last shred of hope in their wretched lives.

Overcome with sympathy, Riza decides to push aside the conflicting feelings raging within her - for now, at least - and sits beside him.

He’d shown her the letter once, when they were children - the only memento his late mother had left behind. Riza had never seen him go anywhere without it. It was obviously of great import to him, and his mother had clearly loved him dearly.

“No matter the ones you burn, in mine you shall always remain,” Riza whispers. And it’s true: despite the atrocities they’d committed outside, the crimes against humanity they’d perpetrated, there was a part of her that still loved him, as his own mother would have.

For the first time since The Ishvalan Extermination, Roy allows himself to mourn in her arms as he clutches desperately onto a yellowing letter.

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

special thanks to @hirayaart and @x-rainflame-x - thank you so much for helping me read through this, and for your invaluable feedback 💖

you can read the full poem here if you’re interested ^_^

#moms-made-fullmetal-2020 #fma fanfic #xingese!roy #Royai fic #implied royai #roy's parents #madame christmas #fma #royai fanfic #xingese imperial court

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leemznho · 5 years

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life and all its beauty (ben hardy x reader)

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

Plot: inspired heavily by The Great Gatsby, and by a moodboard I saw made by @rogers-sweatbands - reader goes with their cousin to an extravagant party in West Egg, hosted by Ben Hardy, the infamous millionaire that nobody seems to really know anything about...

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I haven’t written anything in forever, and this is the first time I’ve ever posted any of my writing on tumblr so I’m super nervous, but I’m also feeling really good about it??? Any feedback would be g r e a t l y appreciated, and if anyone would be interested in me turning this into a series let me know!

(P.S Ben doesn’t come in until about halfway because I wanted to properly set up the story beforehand, but if I write more then he’ll be in it more sorry okay thank you jsksjsk)

July 1922

It was like nothing you had ever seen before. It seemed as though everyone in New York City was in attendance tonight; and when you said everyone, you meant everyone.

You had barely been in Mr Hardy’s mansion longer than an hour and you had already brushed shoulders with a silent film star; overheard heiresses comparing their inheritances over cocktails by the bar, where they sat alongside bankers simultaneously discussing the current state of Wall Street; watched as gangsters and governors alike piled around the same roulette tables for a game. You had even heard that Ewing Klipspringer, a rather eccentric young lad, and rumoured descendent of Beethoven was performing tonight!

It didn’t seem to matter what class you were, or which corner of the city you had crawled out of, everyone was currently partying together in Mr Hardy’s mansion, and nothing was off the cards. Anything you could have ever dreamed of — every alcoholic beverage, every narcotic substance, every brand of cigar — all of it was on the menu right here under the one roof, and in absolute excess.

It was rather overwhelming, you had to admit. Your life back home could never have prepared you for this absolute kaleidoscope of extravagant chaos. You couldn’t have even imagined a world like this ever existed before your cousin had introduced you tonight, and so you were still trying to work out where exactly it was that you could fit in amongst all of it.

Downing yet another cocktail from a passing waiter, you attempted to shake your nerves.

“Are you having fun yet?” Your cousin shouted amid the pounding of music and thunderous conversation, taking your hand and guiding you onto the already packed dance-floor, spinning you around as she did so.

You giggled, allowing her to lead you as she moved in time with the music. “It really is like nothing I have ever experienced before!”

“I know! Isn’t is wonderful!?”

You weren’t so sure you could answer that yet.

“Where is Mr. Hardy though?” You asked. “All of these guests here for him and he hasn’t made any sort of appearance yet.”

Your cousin shrugged.

“I suppose they’re not really here for him, more just the booze and the entertainment that he provides.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little sad for him at that.

“Well has anyone ever seen him? Does anyone really know who Mr Hardy is?” you persisted.

“I heard that he was a German spy during the war,” a man with a thin black moustache yelled as he walked by, laughing, both arms hooked around the waists of two beautiful blonde women he had more than likely met that night. “He’s killed more men then you could count.”

“No, he hasn’t!” The taller of the women chirped, slapping her male companion playfully in the chest. She leaned in close to you then, as if she were about to let you in on a grand secret. “If you ask me, Mr Hardy doesn’t really exist. He’s an idea. An elaborate fairytale made up by a drunkard to justify all of the illegal activity that goes on around here. Just in case anyone starts asking questions…” She slinked away with a wink.

Of all the tales you had been told tonight, that had to be one of the most ridiculous. Or was it? You had heard so many conflicting stories about Mr Hardy you could barely keep up with them all.

“You’re thinking about it all too much, Y/N! Have another drink, loosen up! The war is over, we deserve to have some fun!” Your cousin wiggled her eyebrows at you, dancing a little more enthusiastically than before, more for your benefit then her own.

“You’re right,” you nodded, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze. “Shall I go and fetch us both some more drinks?”

“Yes! Go! More cocktails!” She laughed, suddenly ushering you away. “Perhaps you’ll meet the great Mr. Hardy on your way and clear up all of this confusion for the lot of us.”

You rolled your eyes at her. Now she was just teasing, but you couldn’t help but hope that maybe you might.

You pushed your way through the sea of people, all fighting to move in different directions. Eventually you fell into a stream of traffic all travelling the same way and hoped that eventually you would find a bar, or in the least a place to rest your feet. You were already hot and sweaty from being squished up against so many other warm bodies, and your muscles were starting to ache from all the dancing and standing around. You knew your cousin was nowhere near ready to go home yet though; the party had practically just begun!

You began to wonder if she would notice if you slipped away for a bit to gather yourself before you returned with another drink? You highly doubted it.

Managing to manoeuvre your way out of the worst of the crowd, you found yourself at the foot of an impressive staircase, all white marble steps and cast iron railings shaped to look like twisting vines. You began the journey up to the second floor of the mansion, careful not to trip on anyone as you went. The music was just as loud up there, but the partygoers grew noticeably less and less the further you wandered.

You didn’t mean to stray as far as you did, but eventually you found yourself in a grand library, surrounded by the comforting smell of old books and sea spray. You could still hear the party from where you were (wherever that happened to be) but it was darker in there, and far less overwhelming; there was more space for you to breathe and collect your thoughts.

For a few minutes you simply watched through one of the many arch windows that lined the far wall, counting the waves as they broke on the shore, then the lights that winked at you on the horizon from East Egg, relishing in the calm stillness of the room.

Guilt began to gnaw at you far sooner than you had hoped as you remembered your cousin, still waiting for you somewhere downstairs. This wasn’t the first time she had attended one of these parties, you reminded yourself. Surely she would find familiar company to mingle with and forget that you were gone. Regardless of any reassurance you could offer yourself, you decided that you were only allowed another few minutes alone before you would join her again. As you began to turn away from the window, you noticed a painting, quite significantly sized, hung delicately on the wall in a beautiful gold frame right by you.

The background was a brilliant array of bright greens, contrasting with ribbons of diagonally placed yellows, all blending into one another with short, frantic brush strokes of thick paint. At its centre was a brown vase, small handle protruding from its front, an exuberant bouquet of pink roses spilling out of it in glorious full bloom. It was so beautiful, and vibrant, such a celebration of spring. You found yourself yearning to see the world as the artist so clearly did. You wondered if perhaps it was the infamous Mr Hardy’s own work?

“See something that you like?”

Startled, you turned away from the painting and began to scan the library, searching for a face to put to the voice you had just heard. Surely you hadn’t imagined it? The feeling in the pit of your stomach told you that you hadn’t.

You could only see as far as what was being illuminated by the moonlight pooling in through the windows, which admittedly wasn’t a great deal. So long as the company you kept didn’t want to be seen, they wouldn’t be.

You straightened your spine and tilted your chin a little higher, determined not to allow them to know just how much they had startled you. You began to speak up into the darkness of the second floor balcony.

“This is a beautiful piece. Who painted it?”

“Vincent Van Gogh.” The voice that responded was deep and hoarse you now noted, and although you were not particularly good at placing accents, you could hear that whoever was speaking was British. “Vase with Pink Roses. One of his late works, he painted it in 1890 when he was still a patient at the Saint-Rémy Asylum.”

“Impressive, but how it is that a painting by Vincent Van Gogh has found its way onto the wall of a house in West Egg?” You retorted, hoping that you could coax them from wherever they were hiding if you provoked them with conversation. “I’m no art connoisseur, but I hear that they’re starting to call Van Gogh one of the greats. I know of many an art exhibition that would pay a great deal of money for a piece such as this.”

You could hear a hint of amusement when they spoke next. “I’m sure they would. If I’m being totally honest with you, it really only fell into my possession by sheer luck.”

“Your possession?” you asked, slightly taken aback. “But that would mean that you’re…”

From the second floor of the library, a young man appeared at the balcony railing, scotch glass in one hand, cigar in the other, slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Forgive me if I frightened you. I don’t often entertain a crowd that is more interested in the art than the alcohol.”

“Oh no, I should be the one apologising. I never meant to wander so far from the party. If I disturbed you at all—”

“Please,” he waved a hand at you. “You hardly disturbed me.”

He descended the staircase closest to you, and made his way across the room, snuffing his cigar in an ashtray as he passed by a table. He was dressed in an all black suit that looked more expensive then anything you had ever owned, blonde hair combed and slicked back neatly, his face clean shaven. He was nothing at all like you had imagined, particularly after all of the stories you had heard.

When he finally reached you, he didn’t hesitate to take your hand in his and bring it to his lips for a soft kiss.

“Ben Hardy,” he offered, light green eyes scanning your face with such an intensity you found that you had to look away.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you smiled, your voice lacking the confidence you would have liked.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Y/L/N.”

“As it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Are you from around here?” He asked. “I can’t recall ever seeing your face.”

“When so many people come flooding through your doors every weekend I imagine it must be difficult to keep track of every face you’ve ever seen” you teased him.

“Yes, but something tells me I would remember yours if I had seen it before.”

You tried to hide the blush that bloomed across your cheeks as he finally let your hand slip gently from his fingers.

“I’m currently visiting my cousin and her husband over in East Egg.”

“Is your family originally from over there? Perhaps I know them?”

“No, my cousin just married well, although you may know her husband? Joseph Mazzello?”

“Ah, yes. Good ole’ Joe,” he smiled fondly. You made a note to ask Joe about it when you returned home.

Ben turned his attention back to the Van Gogh painting.

“About ten years ago, before the war, before I moved here from England, I was passing through Zürich. I met a banker there, and we struck up a friendship of sorts. He was loud, and rather obnoxious, and only really appreciated the worth of something if you could put enough numbers in front of a dollar sign. He gave it to me as a gift before I returned to London. I don’t really know what he was doing with it. I don’t think he knew the first thing about art,” Ben smiled to himself.

“If he did I doubt he would have been so quick to give it away,” you remarked, amazed.

“He did write to me a few years ago. He said that he’d been approached by a man who had heard about the piece and wanted it for a gallery he owned in Paris. They were willing to pay whatever price they had to to get it in their collection. I’ve never seen such desperation in a man as I did the day I received that letter.”

“I suppose it’s safe to assume how this story ends,” You laughed softly.

Ben smiled at you mischievously.

“Do you collect much art?” you continued, daring to trace a corner of the paintings frame.

“Admittedly I don’t,” he confessed, his eyes scanning you as you further inspected the painting. “Though there is something about Van Gogh’s work wouldn’t you say, Miss. Y/L/N? Something incredibly beautiful about the way he saw the world, despite how sad he was.”

“Perhaps,” you agreed. “Or perhaps he did not paint how he saw the world, but in fact how he wish he saw it.”

“Sadness does not prevent one from recognising beauty, Miss. Y/L/N.”

“A matter of perspective, I suppose, Mr. Hardy.”

There was a slight pause before either of you spoke again, the air growing heavy.

“You talk as though you have seen this world without beauty?”

“I think they’re calling it the Great War,” you remarked dryly.

Another pause.

“You lost someone.” He didn’t pose it as a question.

“Is it not safe to assume that we all lost someone, Mr. Hardy?” You retorted as you turned to face him. He wasn’t looking at you anymore though; instead he stared out the window and into the sea, face bathed in moonlight, brow furrowed.

“It’s true, we all lost a great many things. But even during times of war, if you look carefully enough… there is beauty.”

You smiled with a new found realisation.

“You found someone.”

Ben smiled too, but it was full of unmistakeable heartache.

“Look at us,” He finally laughed, but it was without humour. He began to straighten himself, smoothing down the shoulders of his suit jacket. “Tonight is a night for celebration, Miss. Y/L/N. We shouldn’t be hiding away in a library, torturing ourselves with such solemn conversation.”

“Might I ask what it is that we’re actually celebrating, Mr Hardy?”

He looked at you, almost seeming confused by your resistance. It only lasted for a moment though, gone so quickly you wondered if it was ever really there at all.

“Don’t tell me that you need a reason to celebrate, Miss Y/L/N?”

“I guess I just don’t understand why you would waste such extravagance on nothing,” you replied bluntly. “Surely there has to be some occasion that we’re celebrating.”

He smiled at you.

“Alright, since you demand an occasion… tonight we celebrate life and all its beauty, in memory of our dear friend, Vincent Van Gogh,” Ben raised his glass in the direction of the painting, before bringing it to his lips. You couldn’t help but scoff a little.

“I suppose that is as good a reason as any,” you settled, rolling your eyes at him. “But if I knew you any better, Mr Hardy, I would think that you didn’t want to celebrate at all tonight. In fact, before I came in here I would almost go as far as to say that it seemed like you were hiding.”

“Would you like to get to know me better?” He asked softly, looking back at you.

You studied him for a moment, letting his question hang in the air.

“I suppose it depends which version of you I’m getting to know…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well after all the stories I’ve heard tonight… for all I know you could be a German spy!” You teased.

He sighed, nodding knowingly.

“The rumour mill really never stops spinning, does it? Suppose you heard that I also acted as the Kaiser’s assassin?”

“Oh, I’ve heard them all,” you laugh. “You know I met a woman tonight who tried to tell me that you didn’t even exist?”

You watched as his eyes grew wide.

“Now there’s one that I haven’t heard before.” Setting his glass down by the window, he offered you his arm before flashing you a mischievous grin. “Shall we rejoin the company downstairs and dispel some of these ridiculous rumours together?”

You linked your arm with his, a nervous sort of excitement bubbling up inside of you.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

#okay wow i'm super scared about uploading this so please be gentle with me #i'm just a baby that likes writing and constructive criticism only #pey writes #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy blurb #ben hardy smut #ben hardy headcannon #ben hardy fluff #joe mazzello #i'm tagging joe because i mentioned him and might introduce him more later???#if people are interested that is #ben hardy x female reader #roaring 20s!ben hardy

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