#they feel a little ... mmm.. stilted ?
Text
dang this 200 follower event thing got me ZOOTED /lh
#im working on it i prommy#it's been a really fun and interesting exercise but HOOOH#im not super hapy with how the things ive been posting for it have been turning out honestly#they feel a little ... mmm.. stilted ?#but i suppose thats how i get better ! :D#general barks
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Whoops wrote this up, back to finishing asks. I’m currently closed for one-shots right now. Then I shall probably migrate to my side blog to catch up with my freaknasties. Behold, the pathetic pookie puppy.
Pretty, fun, a little dumb. - C. Cole
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Literally pwp, doggystyle, sub!criston, light puppy play, established Dom/sub, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise kink, aftercare, pnv!sex, he’s an idiot, wet and messy
Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @aemondsbabe @rafeism @lovelykhaleesiii @arcielee @valeskafics @thought--bubble @sugarpoppss2 @jamespotterismydaddy @fairysluna @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @starogeorgina
“Awe, puppy, you’re okay,” you cooed.
Criston had been such a good boy for you this week. He was getting his reward— access to your cunt as long as he could keep going. He’d get this as long as your puppy baby didn’t break any rules. He rarely did so the pretty little thing can wear himself out on Sundays. He had even managed to go to his job with a cock cage on. The cutest obedient little puppy, Criston was the best sub you had dated.
He was a little different today, more aggressive than normal. Usually the pup wanted missionary so he could suck on your tits and kiss if one could call it that. He’d been taking you from behind, one orgasm in now, big hands gripping your hips. Ever the velcro dog, the man’s legs caged yours in, body folded to press himself to the length of your back.
His stubble was brushing your cheek, messy curls tickling your neck. Criston was drooling, he couldn’t keep his pretty lips closed all worked up like he was. Your submissive would whine, cry, babble, even squeal when his needy cock was getting wet.
He was sweating and mouthing against your heated cheek, rambling, “Mm- feel s’good baby, oh my god, m’gonna cum again ohmy- ngh!” His frantic thrusts into your cunt grew sloppy and stilted, Criston’s pants bordering on heaves now. He moaned, “Pleasepleaseplease miss, please!”
Oh, your pitiful dumb puppy. Pussy drunk and spaced out to the point he forgot there weren’t any rules for his reward. Criston had to be reminded gently while you clenched down on his hard cock— the blunt tip grinding against your cervix. Criston whimpered as you murmured, “Go on, it’s your day sweet pup, fill me up, I know horny puppies like you can’t help it. Got to hump and beg and whine.”
“Oh…mm…yessss,” he mournfully wheedled, dumb brown eyes blinking as he registered your words. He jerked inside you, crying out as he filled you up, hot pumps of his cum stuffing you further. Criston whined, “Ah, s’its everywhere, oh miss! Oh, love your pussy, love it, fuuuuck!” You grinned, reaching back to pet his hair.
“Yeah puppy? Had a lot saved up for me didn’t you precious? Mmm, got your miss all stuffed, don’t hold back.”
Criston garbled nonsense, choking on his own spit as he shivered at your words. He swallowed, nuzzling into your palm, cock growing hard once again. His voice was ragged and pitchy with all his carrying on. Your pet managed to blabber, “M’still so full, can’t stop, you’re so wet n’tight miss. Agh- fuck.”
He began to fuck you again, cum squelching loud and filthy. Baby’s hips stuttered as he gasped, “Oh, s’all everywhere, made a mess.” You rolled your eyes and ushered him on, puppies made messes anyways— they didn’t know any better. Just cute and fun to play with, but they needed training.
A shaking hand snaked across your belly, sliding down to your messy core. Criston’s fingers circled your clit haphazardly. You arched and fucked back into him, praising your pet for being so smart and thoughtful. He cried, shivering at the praise, begging you to cum on him.
“Wetter, need it wetter, please,” was his pathetic warble.
You tilted your face to smash against puffy lips, an attempted kiss that turned into wordless breathing and moaning. The pair of you gasping into open maws as you grew sensitive and hot— dousing his swollen prick when he struck just right. Grabbing onto his wrist you writhed through the peak, praising, “Good fuh-fucking baby, getting you a pr-pretty new collar, how about white h-huh?”
Criston fucked you through his orgasm, grunting and whimpering while your pussy clenched in pulses. He shoved you down into the bed, driving into you with abandon, oversensitivity making you cry out with every drag of his cock. You gripped at a pillow, biting down on your bottom lip.
“M’sorry m’sorry miss, can’t stop, c-can’t I can’t!,” he frantically apologized, hips slapping against your reddened ass. If you could think straight at the moment you’d tease, Criston was driving coherency out of your head via brutal dicking.
“F-fuh-fuck miss, s’wet,” he repeated.
You turned to gaze at his face, his brown eyes clenched shut. Criston’s pretty lashes were wet, streaks down his flushed cheeks, lips bitten to an obscene degree. His curls were matted with sweat, falling across his pinched brow. He was goddamn gorgeous. You eyed his heaving chest and dangling chain, bouncing against that wonderfully hairy chest.
“Pretty pup,” you rasped quietly.
He smiled, dewy brown eyes dumb and empty as he gazed down at you, chanting your name like a litany. “That’s it, that’s it, don’t have to think, just rut and make yourself feel s-so good. You feel good don’t you p-pup?” Criston’s neck strained as he agreed with a little jerk of his head.
You bore back down into the pillow, letting your sweet pet have his way. His noises and rambling were adorable. Prattling on about how much he loved you, choking on sobs. Poor thing could barely string together a sentence, simply too fuck dumb for that. He slid his hands higher to your waist, fucking harder as he worked himself in your abused pussy.
It wasn’t long until you were growing sore and Criston was trembling and sniffling. He moaned, “Hurts, c-can’t, stop, no!” His words were meaningless as he powered through the overstimulation, making your eyes roll back at the thought. You could feel him trembling against you, his sweaty skin sticking to yours as he neared another climax.
Criston was sobbing now, complaining about his sore cock, throbbing deep inside. Dumb puppy couldn’t stop if he wanted to. You cooed gentle and sweet, holding his cheek as he unraveled. You almost felt numb now, focusing on getting on your sub to let go and finish up before he lost his head.
His hands clenched so hard you knew it was bruise. Criston wailed as he emptied one more time, gasping and heaving as he slipped out on accident, painting your ass with the last few pearly ropes. Cum flooded from your entrance, the intense feeling drawing a whimper from you.
He shuffled down the bed, hot tongue dutifully lapping the mess up, even if he was still crying like a bitch in heat. You reached back to grip his green collar, panting, “You’re fine baby, it’s okay, c’mere puppy.” Criston looked confused— obeying regardless. He was a downright wreck as you held your submissive, petting his hair back.
You’d already had a water bottle, towel, and some crackers on the bedside table. Placing a hand on his chest you reassured, “Relax pup, you’re all worn out now, breathe.” Criston sucked in a breath, guided by your words until he was merely teary.
“Good boy.”
You pressed the bottle to his swollen lips, Criston drinking eagerly as rivulets fell down his neck. Grabbing the towel to wipe him off had poor pup squirming and protesting, “Ungh, hurts miss, s-sorry.” He got some more praise and pecks of your lips to get him through.
Your puppy was tired now, shoving his face into your neck, arm possessively pulling you close. He breathed in a slower fashion now, rasping more nonsense. Criston would come back to after a good nap. Unbuttoning his collar and rubbing his back would alleviate his intense emotions.
“There we go, best damn puppy, lookit you.”
He blinked, shifting closer, thanking you in a small rasp. Criston’s legs intertwined with yours, pressing himself close yet again. Such a good boy, and he was all yours. You couldn’t even see the man fucking another woman now— he needed his Miss and her pretty gifts and collars. Good directions and a strict routine. You smirked, whispering back, “Love you more Cris baby.”
#hotd fanfic#hotd smut#ser criston cole x reader#criston cole x reader#criston cole smut#criston cole imagine
118 notes
·
View notes
Text
One Day at a Time - Chapter 5 - Labor
Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete
Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut
Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3
~*~
Charlie and Joel find a new routine, stumbling around each other in the early days–passing each other in the hall with stilted greetings, overly polite glances, two lone wolves sharing a den.
The hardest part of having her around is her insistence on doing things . He finds the laundry hamper in his bathroom empty, the dishes washed and put away in the cupboard, the floor swept and the bookshelves dusted.
“You don’t need to clean up after me,” he grumbles after finding a bunch of his shirts folded and pressed and stacked neatly on the bed in Ellie’s old room. “Didn’t ask you here to be a maid.”
“I have to do something,” she says from her place on the couch. “They have me on reduced hours. All I do is water plants and sort donations, and there are only so many books to read. At this rate, I’ll be halfway through the library by the time the kid is born.”
“That’s the point. You’re s’posed to rest,” he says.
“I haven’t bled in three weeks,” she says. “The kid’s fine. I’m fine. A load of laundry isn’t going to kill us.”
He winces. “Don’t say it like that. And I can do my own damn laundry.”
In a vain attempt to get her to stay put, he brings home stacks of DVDs from the library and makes movies a nightly routine. If nothing else, it keeps her off her feet for a couple of hours, and he already knows they have similar tastes. Sometimes Ellie joins them, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch with a bowl of popcorn in her lap, and their weird little arrangement feels almost familial.
On one such night, Charlie is fast asleep when the movie credits roll. Ellie bowed out halfway through, claiming she couldn’t take the cheesy dialogue for one more second.
Charlie’s head is propped on a pillow next to Joel’s thigh, and he resists the urge to push an errant strand of silver hair out of her eyes. Instead, he draws a fingertip down her cheek until she stirs.
“You missed the best part,” he murmurs. “And you’re droolin’.”
“Mmm.”
She wipes a hand across her mouth and blinks up at him. It’s a long, lingering look that has him brushing the hair from her eyes after all, eager to have an excuse to touch her, if only for a second.
He realizes with a dull sense of shame that he wants to gather her in his arms and carry her to bed. The liquor that put them here may have acted as a lubricant, but at a different time, under different circumstances, he would have tried to get her to bed regardless.
The thought is pushed roughly aside as he stands slowly, stiffly, stretching through the low-level ache in his back, ignoring the creak in his knees.
He puts out a hand to help her up and she takes it, using it as leverage to hoist herself off the too-soft couch, overcoming her unfamiliar extra weight. Her hand lingers in his once she’s up, just a second too long, and he feels that familiar spark of heat low in his spine.
He fakes a cough and takes his hand away, grateful she can’t see the flush creeping up his neck in the low light.
“C’mon…let’s get you to bed.”
He plods up the stairs behind her, purposefully looking at his feet instead of the sway of her hips ahead of him.
“G’night, Joel,” she yawns, lingering in the doorway to his bedroom.
Christ, even her yawn is cute.
“Night,” he grates out, ducking into the spare room and closing the door behind him. He’ll wait until she’s settled, then he’ll go to the bathroom down the hall and take his second shower of the day, because there’s no fucking way he can jerk off in Ellie’s old room.
~*~
It’s different from what Joel remembers. There is no attempt to outfit a nursery, no crib or cradle to put together, no paint swatches smoothed onto the walls. There is no discussion of names, of gender, of a future beyond the current day; just a nightly mark in his pocket calendar, one more day in a long countdown. He doesn’t know if it’s a shared fear of losing the pregnancy or of making it too real; probably both.
Instead, they refer to the baby as a fruit, based on the list in the “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” book that someone, probably Maria, dropped on their doorstep.
“How’s…is it Avocado?” he asks, returning home from patrol. Tommy must have pulled some strings with the council because he’s been put on daytime shifts only, no overnights, and nothing longer than six hours.
“I think it’s Pepper now. No…wait,” Charlie frowns, reaching for the book and flipping to a dog-eared page. “We’re up to Sweet Potato.”
He wrinkles his nose. “How is that a fruit?”
“I dunno, but it’s making me want fries.”
He does his best to stifle the urge to follow her around and pester her to eat, to drink, to relax, but tonight the question slips out before he can stop it.
“You hungry? Did you eat?”
“I was joking,” she sighs, and he catches the tail-end of an eye roll. “But no, I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Heard it’s pizza night at the caf. Prob’ly still have the good stuff if we go now. No mushrooms.”
“Sounds like heartburn waiting to happen,” she smiles. “But sure.”
They walk to the cafeteria together, a diversion from routine. Except for their nightly movie dates, they keep separate schedules, more like roommates than future parents.
”So, uh, you didn’t tell me before. How’s ‘Sweet Potato’?”
“Active,” she says, rubbing her stomach. “At least I think it’s the kid. Could be gas.”
He snorts a laugh. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. It feels like…bubbles. Like fizzy bubbles, popping,” she says.
He nods. “You’re, uh, what, twenty weeks? Halfway.”
“You’re keeping track,” she says appraisingly.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
Her lips quirk in a smile. “I’m not.”
He’s managed to keep his head down and avoid the rumors, but he feels eyes on them when they enter the cafeteria together; the old man and the reclusive widow. It’s almost enough to make him turn around, but her hand is suddenly warm in his, steadying him.
“Maybe we should give them something to talk about,” she whispers, arching an eyebrow.
“Pretty sure this is ‘something’ enough,” he says, gently poking at her stomach with the edge of his tray.
They find a table in the corner, someplace Joel can keep his back to the wall and glare at anyone who offers more than a sideways glance. Normally the caf’s pizza is good, but tonight it tastes like cheese-covered cardboard. He’s head down, focused on cutting up his food into little squares when a familiar voice pipes up.
“Hey, lovebirds!”
He looks up to find Ellie standing at their table, holding her tray and grinning.
“Not gonna interrupt your date, just wanted to say ‘hi.’ I’m eating with Cat and Dina,” she nods to the other side of the room.
“S’not a–”
“Have fun,” she chirps. Then she’s gone.
“Sorry,” he mutters, pushing his food around on his plate. “She’s…a lot.”
“How’s she dealing with all this?” Charlie asks, gesturing between them.
“Same way she deals with everythin’,” he snorts. “Bein’ a wiseass.”
Charlie looks over her shoulder to where Ellie is now laughing with her friends.
“How’d she end up with you, anyway? You’re a bit of an unlikely pair.”
“Made a promise to a friend,” he says roughly. “Then she…stuck.”
“The unwitting father,” she says, smiling a little, then frowns. “I used to wonder what kind of mother I’d be…before this. Now I just hope we make it out of this pregnancy alive.”
“You will,” he says quickly because he can’t bring himself to imagine the alternative. “And you’ll do fine. The first years, it’s mostly just about keepin’ ‘em alive…stop ‘em from doing stupid shit.”
He’s watching Ellie as he says this.
“Then you love ‘em and hope for the best,” he says softly. “Not much else to it.”
“Sounds like you speak from experience,” Charlie says curiously, and a pit of anxiety burrows deeper into his stomach. Sometimes he forgets she doesn’t know about Sarah.
“I took care of Tommy,” he explains, flushing. “Our folks weren’t, uh, around much. It was just me an’ him for a long time.”
She nods. She’s finished her pizza and he’s still moving his around on his plate. He pushes his tray over to her.
“Here. M’not hungry.”
“You sure?”
He nods, and she takes the tray and picks up one of the tiny pizza squares he’s carved out, popping it in her mouth.
“Well, she seems pretty happy, all things considered,” she says, chewing thoughtfully. “You must be doing something right.”
He winces, thinking of Ellie’s dead weight in his arms and the despair in her eyes when he couldn’t tell her the truth.
“M’not so sure about that.”
~*~
The moan drifts across the hall, and Joel is out of bed and at her door in an instant. He’s only half dressed, hasn’t even put a T-shirt on. Ellie hasn’t had one of her nightmares in months, but he’s operating on pure instinct, something drilled into him from the time Sarah was a baby. It’s a honed reflex; he does it without waking, without thinking.
He stops at the threshold, blinking away the sleep before he can knock on the door to his bedroom.
His bedroom. Ellie sleeps in the garage. Charlie is here now, not Ellie.
Another low moan, a gasp…a sigh.
His face gets hot as he realizes what’s happening. He stands frozen in the hall, her breathing carrying through the door. Panting, another moan. Arousal sends a tight knot of heat to his groin.
Fuck.
He turns on his heel, eager to put space between them, to give her some privacy, but his foot lands on the squeakiest floorboard, the one he’s been telling himself he needs to nail down before someone trips on the damn thing, and the sound is unmistakable and deafening.
All sounds from his bedroom cease with a tiny gasp.
Shit shit shit.
He’s fixed in place. There’s the sound of her soft footsteps on the other side of the door, the creak of the knob as it opens.
“Joel?”
He turns around, fists clenching at his sides. “Sorry…I thought you were, uh…sick.”
She’s watching him intently, silver eyes burning into his in a way that takes his voice. She’s dressed in a thin tank top and underwear, the fabric clinging to her skin, dewy with sweat from the heat of the summer, or from…other things.
His brain goes fuzzy.
The lacy edge of the tank top barely covers her, swollen as she is, breasts and belly normally covered by an oversized button-down. His eyes are drawn to the naked swell of her abdomen over the crease of her thigh.
Then she’s reaching toward him, and he catches her wrist before her palm makes contact with his bare chest, but just barely. The heat radiates off her and he feels every single degree of temperature.
“I…should go,” he murmurs, but his throat has gone dry and it comes out as a croak.
“Joel–”
He’s still holding her wrist when she moves toward him and presses her face to the center of his breastbone, her breath like a blessing on his skin. He can’t stop her, can’t turn her away, even as his hand holds her wrist steady and apart, the rest of her slides against him. Her forehead presses at the spot under his chin.
It’s so slow–so painfully, breathtakingly slow, this connection.
“We–” is all he can get out when he feels her lips on his chest, an open-mouthed kiss to his pec, and he shudders. Her tongue peeks out, lapping once at the tender skin, tasting him.
His other hand cups the back of her bare neck, intending to pull her away, but he’s entranced by the softness at her nape, the warmth of the skin, the way the muscles and bones shift under his palm. She has deftly extracted her wrist from his grip and is holding the hand that was meant to keep her at bay, fingers laced together and tucked between their bodies like a secret.
She tips her head back, waiting for the last vestiges of his control to break. It’s her eyes that do it, silver and shining with want…and sadness.
I’m here, I’m here, you can have this.
Oh, he really should turn away.
He kisses her like it’s the first time because he can’t remember the first time; only that it put them here. Maybe it hadn’t been the alcohol after all, because he’s lost himself to the first sip of her mouth. She tastes like chocolate, sweet and rich and deep, and he is so achingly hungry when she licks the taste of herself into him.
She’s pulling him, or maybe he’s pushing her, guiding her to the bed. His bed. Where she’d been touching herself not moments before–
He groans and separates himself from her just as she sinks onto the mattress.
“I need…I need a minute,” he gasps. He feels insane, primal, out of control. He needs this to just slow down and give him half a second to think, but he can’t fucking think because the blood is no longer answering to the part of his body that controls decision-making.
Charlie gets to her knees on the bed, swaying a little as she adjusts to her burgeoning center of gravity. “You asked how you could help. This is how. You can be with me.”
“Is that…really what you want?”
She blinks at him, slow and measured. Her voice shakes. “I want…I want to forget, just for a little bit. I want to…pretend.”
“I’m old enough t’be your father,” he grits out, even as he’s drawn to her, even as his hand finds hers and closes the distance. He watches their fingers entwine as if enchanted, her narrower ones sliding between his thick ones, the clutch of her nails skipping across the ridges of his palm.
“But you’re not my father,” she says evenly.
“The midwife said no–”
“It’s fine,” she soothes, placing his hand on her waist. She’s so fucking close and she smells like sex.
“Please.”
The catch in her voice dissolves what’s left of his restraint and his arm slips around her more fully, pulling her into him, his hand finding the soft skin under her tank top. He holds her close, feeling the thrum of his pulse at his throat when she kisses him there, licking at the scruff of his beard.
Then she’s urging him onto the bed, straddling his hips with her own, draping herself over him, her skin melting against his like warm honey. He feels feverish with want, with need, so lost in the sensations he’s denied himself for months that he might as well be drunk for all the control he has.
He nuzzles at one breast, cups the other, dark-tipped and heavy in his palm. She arches and whimpers when his thumb grazes a nipple, keens when he licks and licks and sucks it into his mouth, feels the pebbled skin tighten under his tongue.
She sits up on her knees, urges his boxers down over him before he fully realizes what she’s doing. He tries to still her with a hand to her hip.
“I don’t wanna hurt–”
“You won’t,” she says, and then she’s pulling her underwear aside and sinking on his length with a gasp and a whimper, fingers gripping his chest to steady herself as she rocks against him, taking him inside with slow, careful thrusts. A groan wrenches itself from his throat and he has to stop himself from thrusting up into her.
“There, there,” she whimpers, finding the right angle, pressing against him, rolling her hips until his cock is stroking and hitting that spot over and over. It doesn’t take long until she’s panting, whimpering, please, please, yes there, please, as she uses his body to climb higher.
He’s murmuring now, soft words of encouragement and praise and nonsense at her throat, her neck, wherever his mouth can reach. He doesn’t stop even when she kisses him, rumbling into her mouth, laying the words against her tongue with his own like an offering, yes, baby, just like that, so good, take it, take it, I got you, take it.
She comes with a final roll of her hips, pressing him inside her as deep as she can and grinding against him with a wail. He feels the pulse and flutter of her contractions around him, her eyes clamped shut, blunt nails digging into his shoulders. Her lip quivers and she lets out what sounds like a sob.
She slides off him with a whimper, tucking into the crook of his arm.
“Just…a sec,” she breathes.
He’s dizzy with her scent, her touch, still not entirely sure how they got here…again. But now her fingers are skating over his stomach and down, taking him in her hand and stroking him, watching his face.
“You don’t…have to,” he grits out, rolling to face her and edging backward to give her space. But she’s shimmying out of her underwear and hooking her leg over his hips, pulling him closer. She reaches between them to stroke his cock through her folds, then urges him inside with a sigh.
Pleasure sinks its hot tendrils into him as she rocks against him, her face pressed to his chest, soft panting at his collarbone. His free hand roams the landscape of her body, the hard swell of her womb pressed into the softness of his stomach, the weight of her breast in his hand.
He feels her fingers at the base of his cock, slicking herself, and his hand follows, covering hers.
“Show me,” he whispers.
She does, and he picks up her rhythm, swirling the pad of his finger around her swollen clit, yes yes, like that, more . He’s surprised when she comes again almost immediately, so sensitive, clamping tight and nipping at his clavicle. She grips his hip and grinds against him, forcing him to fuck her through it until he’s cresting.
“Gonna…soon…” he pants, trying to pull out, but she locks her leg tighter around him.
“Inside,” she whispers, grabbing at his jaw and pulling his mouth to hers.
He groans, pulling back to see her face. “You sure?”
“S’the worst that can happen?”
She looks down at them, at the swell just above where their bodies are joined, and then tilts her chin up and grins, a coy, fucked-out smirk that makes his cock ache and kick and throb inside her.
“Oh…oh fuck ,” he whispers, and then he’s pouring into her.
Her hand is splayed on his cheek when he comes to, her eyes closed, nose pressed to his jaw.
“Y’okay?”
“Mmm,” she sighs, a tiny, breathy little thing. She’s already half asleep.
“Should I—“
“Stay,” she murmurs, leg still locked around him.
He does.
66 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! I was wondering if you are going to update your story The Game soon
I don’t mean to pressure or rush you. I just started reading it a few weeks ago and really enjoyed it
Hey anon!
Thank you so much for reading and enjoying this very self indulgent fic of mine. I am always so pleased to see people like it. It truly warms my heart 🥰
As for the update. Well. I have fallen into a well of inspiration for charlos slash fics in the moment, so I paused The Game's update. But! The next chapter is done and it's been a while since the last update so I'll try to post it when I'm back from holidays!
In the mean time, how about a little snippet?
Carlos arrives at the paddock on media day unexpectedly early and happy, with the kind of confidence in his step only a grand prix winner can get. He won. He can't believe just a few days ago, on another circuit, in another country entirely, he won his first Grand Prix. Fuck, it felt good. Finally.
Fucking finally.
Crossing path with someone wearing a Mercedes shirt, he searches for your hair, your face, your form but no, it’s not you. Disappointment squeezes his heart.
He tries and fails to push the thought away. He remembers the look in your eyes when you found him after his victory, the way you hugged him, the way he hugged you back, with so much longing in his heart it hurt.
It still hurts.
As his mind wanders, he remembers also Charles, his reaction after the race, his congratulations with a stilted smile, his absence everywhere. It hurt.
It still hurts.
He moves past it. He has to.
In the Ferrari motorhome, he traces a beeline to the coffee machine then makes himself a nice cup, his little ritual in the morning.
“Ciao, buongiorno.”
He greets everyone he meets on his way to his driver’s room.
He pauses for a second in front of Charles’ closed door. Weird that his teammate would be here this early. He hesitates to knock, to go say hi, to bother and maybe tease him for a second like he usually does (to flirt, maybe?). But no. He doesn’t. There’s a weird silence between them since Canada. Since he broke the game. Since he stopped playing entirely and avoided Charles. He still works with him of course, but it’s not the same.
He sighs, then locks himself up in his own room. He barely has time to sit and put his coffee on a small table when he hears a thud. He frowns, looking at the wall like he can see through it. Charles’ room is on the other side. He has half a mind to ask if his teammate is okay, or to shout something teasing and funny, just to break the distance between them. But then he hears a strange muffled sound (was that a whine? Or a moan?) and then a voice he would recognize anywhere: yours.
“Mmm Charles, fuck, yes, like that.”
Carlos freezes while his heart hammers in his chest. There is no mistaking what’s happening behind that wall. He cannot see and the sounds are muffled but it doesn’t take a genius to guess. Carlos should probably say something indicating his presence, or simply just walk away, leaving you and Charles some privacy. But he can’t and he stays rooted to his chair.
Staying utterly still, Carlos would deny to the death that he kinda maybe somehow leans in a little and listens. Fuck he almost feels ashamed. What is he doing?
Through the paper thin walls, he can hear everything. Well. Not everything. Charles is barely making a sound, and you seem to leave little moans from time to time. It's not much but Carlos' imagination runs wild.
#anon asks#charlos x you#charlos x reader#charles leclerc x you x carlos sainz jr#charles leclerc x you#carlos sainz jr x you#snippet#this is very fitting following yesterday's race 🥰
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
07.13.2022
tags: noncon, piv, dirty talking
notes: rereading this, i feel as though it's uniquely gormless, and has out-of-date headcanons as we were so early into imbibing JSHK... well, nevertheless. happy reading.
Bird is あ / Avvy is つ / sometimes, I color text to delineate dialogue a little more
あ：my PP concept is also noncon.. but like oh you know, trying to gaslight her throughout it… the most deranged and like cowardly way to do it all. trying to clip her and get her to call you amane during it also bc you has problems
つ：SAY THE CORRECT NAME!!!
あ：it feels like itd be sooo. [wearing clown make up] to be trying to wrestle nene into saying this…
idk it feels like it could get so pathetic… like.. [shakes]… say it..
つ：i like the flavor of impatient hanako… and getting to live int he psyche of guy who wants you and is NOT HANAKO
FORGET THE OTHER GUY
あ：this guy actually has a shot
[defensive of made up narrative] he's been your classmate for a while you two have good chemistry
you. YOU LIKE HIM!!
he likes you. it'sss… this was being built up to. you want this
つ：and on another psychological level…. wanting to be called amane during sex, in general
is something
あ：uhuh. a real [looks at camera] moment for . the tsukasa watching this ig
つ：its so interesting how PP works. the guy who has been actively hiding everything from you suddenly wants an earnest roleplay right before he disappears
ill write the authors notes andits IC as tsukasa like WHOA
i didun tink this would happen!!!! AMANEEEEE
あ：i guess i really offered you something you wanted….
つ：wow i made him so happy!
あ：a way for you to let nene meet "amane" !!!
hehehe…. well… isn't she lucky….
つ：its taking all of his fibers of resistance to not run into the room
the omake version which just has tsukasa barelling in
あ：yes. fkdgjfh…
he is yelling amane
it's like [HONK]
つ：that IIIIIIIII noise he makes
BREATHING SO HEAVILY INTO YOUR EAR IMMEDIATELY
there simply the insane sex world version where tsukasa fluidly joins in. its so hard to not imagine hanako just like SHOVING HIM LIKE A TODDLER
NYO!!!! TSUKASA!!!!
あ：NOT RIGHT NOW NOT WHEN I'M GETTING IT OUT
[holding nene by the throat]
i figure though it has this umm.. hm.. it definitely has this vibe of someone trying to start a romantic cutscene but just getting impatient and not letting you leave…
つ：i do think it starts out so ah… scripted, feeling
so incredibly…. stilted…. has ''phases'', and even though nene doesn't technically jump the hoops, he moves onto the next one anyway…
あ：he's mentally got flashcards. is waiting for the one that lets him put hand on knee
you could imagine it is as simple though as hearing nene mention needing to check in with kou or something for him to be like [unchill] NO.
つ：just a minute. please. just a few minutes.
stay. let me. say. what i . need to
あ：[uncontrollably guilt tripping] youve been blowing me off all day…
つ：[soft indiscernible click in the near distance] [tsukasa is locking the door for them]
あ：your guy…
mmm a good detail though
つ：i will not ruin the inciting action from your game.
あ：its just one of those "there's no bad options!" things for tsukasa bc nene could like flip out and attempt to kill amane. whatever happens baby…
hm but crazy sex world where he joins is fun it's like mm a taste of butter…. wingmans this. but then also is like hiiiiiiiii ~ enjoying my playhouse for you….
huggles you
つ：i do want to to live in the less realistic porno world where amane simply is like ok. keeps going. so this is how it will be.
if thats how god wants it
あ：i am already playing into this fake world
selfishly. i can't act like. it would be that much better if i shoved him off.
つ：lets you hug her. nene is liek KDFL;SJFKL;GSG?? but Amane's like shhh…. shhhh. its okay…��
just tsukasa nuzzling her head, hair, so pleasant….
あ：i do love the thought of nene having to be like. not only experiencing being cornered and pressured and stuff but the brother is here too. manifesting. what the- what does that…
ouhmm its like i wish the changing room scene went different lol… and devolves into this…
so its a nene who was already trying to have theories about tsukasa like "he… want.. revenge…??" but instead he's like smelling your neck. help!
just here to support… happy to be here… ^^ ready to help get everything in place
つ：there are different flavors to different points of the timeline…. if its before any suggestion of 'how to get out of here' its so… disorienting in a DIFFERENT way
thats like. amane is a complete loon trying to do this right out the gate. but later has the flavor of becoming like. nnno my time, running, out
knowing tsukasa is 'real' or not is an element
あ：i go back and forth, initially i was thinking about this like, fuck the movie tickets… i am insane
but i do like the state of things at the point of when she's changing before star gazing… it being like right before stargazing. its rly a different loss of willpower
a very early run i'd almost want to be so early she hasnt even recon'd with kou or seen the world have kooky aspects… is juust in the "??????????" stage of trying to determine what is happening. like she's just been pouring salt on amane and feels bad about that
the gaslighting has more of a chance to take proper purchase in that case. like she IS just doubting herself and feels like the only one insisting on her previous reality
つ：unsure if this is some kind of dream really, that early on…. later is, scary, ominous
tsukasa is going to stroke Amane's face and say…. it's a good world, isn't it…. its really nice…. you like it, right…. just pleased, confirming… a slammin it hanako can only nod and huff thru nose
あ：it's nice like this…. we can be together❤️
admittedly this has to be a tsukasa that just feels like he really won, i mean his trap is just a success, amane is partaking of the fruit
perhaps liberated enough to tease like. did you miss me… i'm glad we can spend some time together
つ：i'm do good with wishie
あ：you look amazing… wow
[watching him hit it]
つ：[openly breathing heavy, not ashamed]
Nene-chan…. you like it too, don't you..? it feels good… [spreading her pussy for Amane to hit deeper with less drag, which makes Hanako, twitch on instinct like DDDDONT GET NEAR MY. DONT YOU]
あ：snarling…. but tsukasa delights to observe
like ohhmm… there's my special guy
つ：[whispering to nene] he makes that face when he really likes something
あ：[grabs her chin and tilts her head]
everyone make sure we are looking and pay close attention okay ^q^
つ：you can never forget a first time
[activate… amane] nn. never forget it. [HURTING]
あ：ohmm for amane to have really shot himself in the foot by forcing nene to call him amane-kun during this… if she is whimpering it.. doesn't that feel like it'd make tsukasa a little bit like [LOOKS.][fervid] we are matchies!!! asfdghfdg!!!!!!
oh its like.. tsukasa likes to hear his name so much… it might feel magical to get to hear someone else beg it… ohgh
you love his trapdoor mouth honestly
つ：I do like Nene ah... becoming subservient, after only a few good swings. i think she's gone
in this circumstance, its just like ss ? sssex x? uhhghmn… [hanako urging her…. to say amane-kun] ohu I, shoul, d do wh, what he saysz [dizzy]
c, cant be rude…. Amm… Amn, Amanneee-kun…..
あ：[blearily] that..s. s… right htats … thats his 'real name'….
[brain tabbing through visions of him as a battered boy, 13…]
つ：[which look, aesthetically, more like this boy…]
[in these clothes, his skinny arms sticking out, looking younger than ever..]
あ：[boy she saw on the floor crying…]
fuzzily in her brain
its like ahrg… amane… kuun… ok ahy.g..fhg
this is like. your ex shows up and youve taught your new meat to call you your old pet name. and your ex gets to just watch this
[tsukasa joins in saying name like the girls in midsommar]
[panting] How long do you want her like this, Amane…
You know there's nothing stopping you, it's whatever you'd like
the world can be for you…
つ：hanako feeling like I. deserve to be mentally broken. its fine. okay.
before i go.
あ：if that's. how this is going to. pan out.
つ：ne, ne….. nene-chan…. this world is whatever the 'main characters' of it want. Doesn't it feel good… to be what Amane wants? He can do anything… and he wanted to do something, with you! something new….. that he's never done before.
N. NEVER BEFORE ?!
v. virgin??????
あ：owned
outed
oh but its moments like these i really feel like [amane. UNCONTROLLABLY picks up pace fuckign jackhammers for a sec]
つ：ffffuc k like a grown boy
あ：its llike fffjhghhfj. goes into his blood
つ：I WILL IMPRESS
あ：[a braincell that is just like slobbering] thats RIGHT i havent fucekd before i wannaf fffffffffuck hard
WATCH ME FUCK
つ：during onslaught it is legitimately tsukasa keeping her from, toppling, she has to grasp something and instinctively grasps his arms
あ：it helps to have a whole body to assist in cradling weight
つ：AMANE AMANEEE!!! [stoked by tsukasa's shouting] amaaanee-kuunnnn [stokedby nene's chanting] A-ma-neeee, aaa [stoked by Tsukasa] Amane-kunnnn
あ：the derangedness
forced. to come.
つ：why doesit sound like i am fucking them both
あ：oh you get to watch his eyes really roll back into his head… I THINK IT JUST MAKES HIM DIZZY
つ：WORSHIP MEEE
あ：like mgh. fhgf.f fghf. s-sex fuck..f ujghf..gfh.. FUCK!! yes i fuck good god yes
つ：i think the ego…. the narcissism present in amane, deep down
being cheered/praised sssso much repeatedly is. mmmnn yessss i doooo it
あ：god yeah. i think tsukasa's egging on is just sooo effective tsukasa might as well be breathing a poison cloud that is going right into him
つ：i do it sssso good call my naaaame
あ：the words are so palpably good at stoking him
the way tsukasa is here to be like: you fuck her sooo good you look sooo hot whiel you do it
she is so ooo lucky to be fucked by you
つ：and nene whining/cooing them in such a girlish register, hiccuping them,ssss ounds better than ever imagined,and he's imagined it a lot
lucky-lucky girl nene-chaaaan
don't you feel lucky….. !
あ：her going along with it all.. it just. he will just feel like the paydirt was so worth it. she can only resist so much!! of course she cant do more than a little fussing.. bbbbECAUSE SHE wants this she wants me
she is agreeing… she is nodding, she is asserting she feels lucky
i wish it could be like.. amane buries his face against nene as he finishes, and gets snuzzled and pet by tsukasa all the while… like as he is shuddering intensely…
we rub faces while i unload into my girl
つ：i'll just live in the narrative where this is simply my classmate brother mmmmmmn
the satisfaction of nene being so agreeable… she will pull him into a kiss after. emboldened-- but thinking like-- h -HE BETTER KISS ME [KISSES HIM]
あ：it's… it's fine, in the context of the narrative…
omgg boy not ready for kiss despite everything i think
つ：just begin making out ssssso hard. he will not let go once he's latched. tsukasa is just chin against her shoulder so close to the action pleasant
woooow… a first kiss too……
あ：beautiful stuff you two..
its like amane forgot kissing was a thing thsi deep into it and youre gonna rot his brain
fucking.. KISS ME AFTER???
つ：he whiiiines. and flinches after like ffcukg
nn-no why… mnhmh… whyd i whine
bbuthjbkiss mmeeeeee mmm
[cock hurts. but is attempting to harden again]
あ：and one must learn that undignified noises shall happen during kiss
the hips itch and shift and shuffle..
your cock soo badly wants to be hard again its really like ouch...
[tsukasa alternating giving you two headpats during kissm]
つ：hugs nene a nice squeeze for a second. mm i jsut love to be here. Nene is…. universes are exploding inside of her brain
for nene. i simply think she wants to fuck again
あ：I Am Here In The Porno, I Am Suspended Between Two Boys
つ：its easier, for girls. just want it. pussy burns. brain is gone. tugging at amane, wrapping legs around him suddenly
あ：moe for amane to be the one feeling disoriented at this point… umm a little weaker after nutting wwww… but god desire in the heart…
dizzied to have reciprocation, in reality… being invited and pressed for more at all is like hough. OHHHHH she really. she, really. want
[sways against…]
つ：nene…. ah she hits a point always, i feel, where she's gone.. mad. finally achieving sex. wanting it. thinking in only poisoned thoughts…. grinding towards him… but, unable to make eye contact. I like to think at this point, amane can't either, finally a bit shy, mostly over it. it needs to take a second
cant look your girl in the eye while shuffling feet around. feels like hot stove. impatient to be ready to slam more
but your helpful tsukasa is here….! observing the problem… amane shuffling around like a nervous horse
あ：i think there's a limited reserve of bravado. you used up so much focus and determination to get this far.
he looks tense.. swallowing..
つ：I think its like hmmmmm…. mmm… grabs his face. makes you and nene stare again
keep saying his name, nene-chan…. if you want him to go again
he likes that best. tell him how much you liked it!
he wants to hear that.
an obedient nene…. happy to have, direction…?
too … addled, to be arguing. too addled to be bothered…. by the intrusiveness. it IS convenient to have solution…..
あ：you liked what he did, after all, right….? nene-chan is a good girl, she should show her gratitude. [pet pet]
つ：small quiet… followed by… I… I liked … it… I l. loved, it. I want. More
I… want [tsukasa interrupting] amane…. [nene nodding] amane-kun…. amane-kun to, d. do it, more….
あ：mmm yes… you get to watch the statement go into him like you threw a precision dart at a target…
to feeeel the cock twitches. the hurried scuffing.
つ：[tsukasa.. gently holding amane's jaw] [tilting his head] I also want you to do it more.
nene has to… feel… ah…. he…. was right. he knew…. he knew how to make him….
is it possible to know someone so well… [delirious from cock] am I lucky… tsukasa-kun is here…too…
あ：she can feel the effects... it just ripples throughout him... undeniably..little lightbulb going off in head but it is full of c*m
Amane: [mouth worrying, licking lips, swallowing…] [troubled seeming]
Tsukasa: [noting he's struggling with words] -- and , you want to too, don't you, Amane..! You do, don't you? You felt so good.
Amane: [hoarsely] h…hhhhai. [nod nod…] [throws head like agitated horse]
and nene watching this all like ouh… wow… tsukasa-kun is like an… expert… sasuga futago otouto…
[kind of clueless, awed tone] You really did… like it a lot, Am.. Amane-kun… you… wanted this, with me..? [cumbrain. and, thinking about 'the narrative'] ff… for a while…
つ：tsukasa like wtf this is so cuuuute❤️
KAWAIIIIII
あ：so smart she is learning!!yesss talk to him tell him what you have observed...
つ：yessss team up with me nene-chaaaaan
あ：RULE WITH ME
つ：so cute amane like. repeatedly. huffing. he is like a troubled horse
but then its like [tsukasa against nene's ear] you should tell him his cock looks nice
TSUKASA-KUN THATS TOO DIRECT!!!!!!!! MURI
あ：such a screeaaaa amoment
[tsukasa rubbing your shoulders]
[like your boxing coach]
つ：but trying to behave. am. ammn. ama. amane-k, kun
あ：[he looks at you like a sad dog for a sec awaiting the bacon]
つ：your c . your cc. co. [being rubbed] cock -- COCK [UNNECESSARILY LOUD] [fucks up] FEELS-- looks--!
[inelegant] ggggooddddd
あ：fus roh dah'd
its just like MY WAHT
[COUGHs blood]
つ：he did not know nene could say such a word
あ：[BLINKs out of sync] it... wh... ..? you- you were [fucking sounds like a bully uncontrollably] looked.? you've beenlooking [slurring]
つ：[tsukasa observing amane be shitty excitedly]
あ：like mgh?f hgf. what hte fuck…. sl-slut.s lut whore what hte fuck… looking at my..
this might actually make him so sick
[voice becomes lower] [suddenly less clipped] what.. do you want to look at it…?
actually thinking about how shitty it would be to like . pause. for this. like actually we are going to call attention to this tis my choice
but you have tsukasa to be the crazy guy who is liek YAS
つ：FUCKING SHOW USSSS
for this moment he is not thinking of tsukasa tsukasa has vanished
tsukasa is just sitting there like 😮observing these transpiring events but in amane's mind its nene undera spotlight
nfnnf no what d did i get inttto [but wobbles from heat] but t. i ? see it ?
あ：like oh. i"llllllllllllll show you my cock if thats what yuore into. [pitying fsr]
つ：[pure brain unfiltered in her head] i do want to see it
あ：gets on my throne about it for a sec. UNABLE TO CHECK SELF
つ：puuulll a littlee awayyyy…..
ah nene…. swallowing. nodding. h. hai.
politely. clasps hands together at chest…..
あ：shimmy shimmy…
incidentally it is good, umm, atmosphere, for this all, steadily hardening again… taking a detour to grasp self…
Urhg. unfortunately i do think he has THOUGHT before about presentation, his hands are not. demure.
while tsukasa isnt being paid attention to, i think he is active enough still like making sure nene is looqing. hand on her head. staring attentively as well
つ：i enjoy the big show.
we all love the big show
あ：i am the big show
oh sorry amane is soo shitty but he's quantifiably soo shitty.. it's really going to be like… [staring at nene while running hand along it, pumps..] [wincing, but focused.] So. You like it. Like the look of it. [guy who is going to make you repeat yourself]
つ：[like afucking military officer is talking to her] HAI
あ：it's really like [shifts hips..] [fingers looped in👌hand, dipping in and out of it]
i make you think. about it
つ：well i think putting on a show makes tsukasa completely speechless jaw dropped. the synergy of tsukasa and nene here is profound actually
あ：gets laser focused eyes
haven't seen him like this…
Amane letting loose has never been… relishing in it, this much. ouhh.
つ：both. breathing through mouths. tracking so closely with eyes. zeroed in
thinking h… he's…. can he be so confident….. Amane-kun…. I didn't know… h. he…. could…. be so, bold…. direct
thank you blessed tsukasa-kun for creating this circumstance
あ：🙏we need you . we need you so badly
つ：amane watching nene flinch when his cock twitches… its like mmm.
tsukasa doesn't flinch. still. impeccably so. as though an animal camouflaging. focused
あ：Good to know she really is thinking about it. this is a good way to get geared up… to fuck her again… like ooh. this makes me want to fuck your brains out
つ：its charming to me for tsukasa to fade into the background briefly, its like the… familiarity of him kinda briefly renders him nonexistent, as nene is being dealt with.
he is cool to hang out.
あ：he is not intrusive to it all
he is permitted to watch amane ostentatiously pull back foreskin
つ：stops breathing, visibly. makes amane laugh… which makes her jump. heavy breathy lil laugh from him
for amane it must be so chaaarming….. mmm she's not only weak to a pretty face, now is she. lol
あ：It's that interesting huh. [humming]
つ：[amane, flatly] so… is this your real weakness.
should I have lead with this.
あ：This would've kept your attention hm.. [tilts it back and forth... being. crude.]Gets results. You probably can't even remember any other guy's name or face right now Right? haha.
つ：blinks. oh cant see. but wants to see. visibly trying to, recover from feeling dazed. blinking a lot
tsukasa uncontrollably also feeling like he is being talked to, but that is irrelevant. just going into his skull
its like humorous honestly its like . yeah i do not remember anythignn rn
あ：fjdghf… sweetie.
cute though. like it goes into your real stomach
[strokes..] [breathing falters a bit, but swallows]
Well… maybe now you won't run off any chance you get with whoever
You'll just think about this instead. won't you.
Maybe if I just tell you to , you will.
つ：nods…. if…. .. will you…. really do this…. f. from now on…..?
with… with. me
あ：[breathes] Oh. Yeah [brain melting] allthe time
You. won't be able to. get away from … me. [h-hm. that wasnt the plan.]
つ：o, okay [stupid]
あ：[shifting to get between legs mindlessly, regardless]
we are both stupid
like mghhhhhhhhhhh i want in
im READY
つ：everyone's stupid
amane whipped his cock out and rubbed it and everyone got brain damage
あ：tsukasa's hand should like rush to spread pussy for
つ：that would be cute. like KLFJSD;KLF WAKES UP WAIT I HAD A PLAN!!! I WAMS GONAN. HELP
あ：master is returning
i must get the door
but i think generously its like this is just allowed. WE'RE all dealing wtih poison status efx we have NO THOUGHTS
i think tsukasa should just be allowed to feel it sink in… framing
つ：tsukasa did a good job aligning the shot for amane to take it. like a retical on a sniper
juuuust slightlyyy feel the skin drag along the edge of his fingers…. pull down as he sinks in
あ：a treat for the good good brother…
i do not think amane can be taken off his cloud after such a lead up its like mgh yes.
oh commence fuck
yes
[grateful for 1 sec] its good to sink so fluidly into pussy, get so deep. NEED
i grant tsukasa also getting to feel him really pull back and then slam.. grind against… not bothering to wait for fingers to move… the urgency spurs everything forward.
but its like i think everyone's hindbrain loves the energy of all of us coming together like this
つ：mmmm force crushing into hand… nnngghice. coooool… amane is cool
nene is gone though
あ：we have lost her. that is okay.
was assassinated… our dearly beloved
つ：a good…. deserved…. hard plow. unmitigated clutching with all limbs… stupid slut brain just thinking about the shape endlessly and the sensation combined with it
aware now, of, twitches. more aware. knows what those look like. feels them harder.
somewhere, shijima: this sucks i hate it i fucking hate drawing
あ：doing all that she can to not just slash the canvas
hate knowing tsukasa and no. 7 are fucking
tfw mitsuba and kou are fucking out taking photos are some shit
that's what she signed up for. not. this.
つ：the afterglow of this situation…. is humorous to think about
i fklsdjfklsf tsukasa's just goingto be smelling his hand in the backgruond and amane is like not going to notice/think about it or like why that is
its like oh tsukasa is doing w/e
あ：same as he ever was...
つ：the duality of it smells like pussy and cock. much to huff
あ：its a very special day for tsukasa. WOW! i guess i didnt see absolutely everything in the timeline
sometimes even i do not know what will happen
hanako having to like. ruminate on. like.💭 ………………… do i just…………………………. quietly peace out still once i gaurantee nene can stay here………… ………………. no. 2 will just have a fake amane to slot in so. [thinks. about. if nene iwll. fuck. that clone. ] no.
💭……………….. she'll forget about her other life eventually. but this is. a part of the. narrative. here.
つ：can I get shijima to kill me off [jealous over paper cut out of self]
あ：she'd probably enjoy that right
have me hit by a truck or whatever
… me and tsukasa.
i wont let. paper cut out tsukasa comfort her.
つ：tsukasa in the BG licking his hand, but covertly like a child sneaking a cookie. as if he could get scolded
nene is comatose…. floating coin slot
あ：hanako just kinda middle distance staring thinking about this stuff. but thats okay
つ：everyone is contemplating
あ：is also just like. but by god if i aint going to fuck her again later
whatever itll sort itself out
つ：💭wait, this hanako-- amane-kun ? has a pulse and. is warm. can he get me pregnant ?
あ：was i irresponsible because i forgot about htis-!? ………..wait…………… did amane-kun choose to……….
…………………………
[if i am engaging with amane-kun like he is really alive boy.] so he made the decision to……………………… do it in me… multiple times
つ：[nene in space]
あ：having to be like. does he want me to .
he has to at least not care. if it happens.
[thinks] i guess my parents would just take care of me no matter hwat
つ：or is he… such a … dirty creep its not his problem… [this makes her horny]
あ：[none of the thoughts have the right amount of severity]
he's just going to be like… "figure it out…" and keep unloading into me 😭….🤤
つ：tsukasa💭i wonder if nene-chan would let me smell her
hmm or rather if amane would let me smel nene chan
あ：the real questions tsukasa.
____________________
つ：> tsukasa uncontrollably also feeling like he is being talked to, but that is irrelevant. just going into his skull
I keep thinking about this
its just so f. funny to be dirty talking nene like mm you dont think about other guys. and tsukasa is like i do not
[seriously, mentally] i do not
amane would just be like [tired face] y. oh i know you. dont. sigh. i. no thats
あ：sooo funny like we're doing mental affirmations with tsukasa as well
つ：that wasnt for you like [facepalm]
you're unintentionally doing mental affirmations with tsukasa. is the problem. nene and tsukasa are both like mmngh only you
あ：cumbrain tsukasa is very endearing like aumghmm im loyal too
つ：i do not need affirmations. from tsukasa. says amane
im not trying to affirm that one sigh
あ：if you even imagined it. like intrusively. itd be like [frowns]. like sees mental image of me being like: you only think about me dont you and tsukasa like VIBRATING barking yes. doesnt it almost feel liek dirty talking a toddler
つ：like glkgl;gjdfklg
あ：the idea of being liek: you like ice cream, to a kid whose face and hadns are all sticky
つ：I'M SIMPLY LOVING THSEE TAKES ITS SO FUNNYYYY
ITS TOO FUNNY TO IMAGINE DOING THIS TO TSUKASA ITS SO FUNNY YOU CAN DO IT TO NENE ALL DAY and like he WILL do it to nene all day. like thats right girl you only think about and look at me. you can't even care about anything else anymore. how you should be. and tsukasa is absorbing it into his own brain 3rd party without amane's consent or intent.
あ：its. so funny. but also like , i do love the thought of it uncontrollably happening regardless like you can't remove tsukasa from the scene of the crime
つ：he is present.
あ：sigh its precious though isnt it… like shifting and fidgeting in seat as well… fox that is about to pee
didnt ever conceptualize amane commenting on your feelings
i dont think tsukasa could fathom like not, responding, mentally, i think the internal stream of thought must simply become yes master………………
つ：mochiron
tsukasa does believe himself and nene are the same in their feelings, and amane affirming this dynamic with HER only affirms the 'we are exactly the same, we feel the same things for Amane, we want the same things with Amane'
hearing the relationship become THIS just naturally confirms his own dynamic… of course it's like that, because we are the same. like to hear it, as much as Nene does, we're all eager to hear such things
あ：our roles are the same…
but i love the thought of this happening like multiple times as amane gets like idk addicted to the sheer ease, the butter. of the situation. and keeps dirty talking nene possessively... and you only start brushing up with how this has been effecting tsukasa like later. you have a moment where both nene and tsukasa nod to something in a zombie like manner and youre like ? [shakes head] [but moves on]
つ：its sssoo funny how many times it could be that Amane is simply in such a tunnelvision horny state while devolving into his dirty talk, that he has blinders on, isn't seeing tsukasa, but as well, tsukasa doesn't express much obviously, he's trapdoor open mouth and big eyes, so you dont always know what he is ✅seen. But it is ssso funny to finally one day observe tsukasa synchronized nodding with nene lidding eyes at you, SO parallell to her, that its. -feel like you hallucinated-
あ：right like we're so deep into this madness
and then its like hugh. j??
but.. still not being jarred enough to stop
its just like a hitch. like what? but. okay
つ：tsukasa ..? oh m.moving on. whatever
you can believe he's just a sort of ape imitating motions if you think about this later and feel like dying. i like to think in the moment Amane would like, get over it, continue, but later in his stall unfortunately uncontrollably remember synchronized nod and feel dread
[of montreal voice] LETS RELAAAAATE
あ：Someone who feels their demise encroaching on the horizon
Omens… and portents
つ：the time and place of your own death
あ：Uhuh. really just alternating between being like "no it definitely wasnt anything" and then "that. wasnt nothing." and then "okay but it-- even if he was. [scalding, hate to say it] horny-- it would -- i mean its probably just from THE SEX HAPPENING right. like the vibes in the room." pause. "… that doesnt sound… like, good. dude."
[to self] are we really going to… like, not address this. if tsukasa is getting horny about things you're saying meant for yashiro. [defensively] but i already have to deal with tsukasa being in the room while i do things to yashiro right. isnt that already so weird. what am i even going to say.
tsukasa is already getting horny about things meant for yashiro what does it matter. and what am i gonna say. wear this burlap sack.
[being an asshole internally] we're already trying to ignore him being there.
つ：but the next time you are dirty talking her you are going to think far too hard about the duality of what you are saying. when you re-read a post but in someone else's tone of voice and perspective… and can understand how they specifically will twist these worsd
あ：starting to talk about your eyes drift and see tsukasa's gaze and its like [slows.]
[now you two are just making eye contact]
つ：stops. talking. which yashiro notices
is like a… ahh..? are you…. okay…. ? noticing something.. but I think Hanako would just snap immediately after
grab her by the throat, shove her down, DETERMINED TO SAY CRAZIER SHIT
あ：oh get all. the animal within about it.
つ：YOU DON'T WANT TO LOOK AT ANYTHING ELSE!!!!!!!! EVER AGAIN!!! YOU CAN'T SSSTAND ANYTHING ELSE!!! IT'S NOT WORTH YOUR TIME. NOTHING IS WORTH YOUR TIME!!!! BUT ME!!!
あ：it's like his own hiccupping and faltering makes him so frustrated, the only response can be [snarls] …
cant let anything get in the way of ASSERTING MY POSITION. yashiro should know WHAT SHE IS TO ME.
oh….. you know because hanako is the way he is i do think it could really get so sick. like. I WON'T STOP UNTIL EVERY DREAM YOU HAVE IS ABOUT ME
EVERY NIGHTMARE, EVERY SINGLE THOUGHT IN YOUR LITTLE HEAD!!
YOUR LIFE WAS OVER THE DAY YOU MET ME!
つ：ah ssso scary for nene, but immediately violently effective, girls… girls want to hear thissssss.
going into tsukasa it's [eyes back in skull] myn the day I met you [was born]
being younger sibling meaning never existing without the other.
あ：oh its a lot for tsukasa to hear that specifically isnt it
つ：in trying to target things at yashiro and blast through this obstruction, just say it, going to only say worse things, by nature
あ：there's no way to actually avoid effecting tsukasa. they are indeed, the same.
つ：there is NO avoiding it, you CANT make it more pointed, exact, you cannot.... you can't. saying all of that panting and watching both of them arching is flk;fgklfkl;jKL;GJSKL;GJSKLG NGNHGHKM!!!!!
あ：[getting crazier] YOU NEVER HAD A CHOICE
YOUR LIFE WAS ALWAYS GOING TO BE MINE!!!
つ：ah… the two of them…. its so synchronus its scary. scary to observe. shuddering as words hit skulls
あ：very scary... like its possessing them equally
つ：its like ohhhh hFKH EVeryones FUCKIGN EHRE FOR ME AREN'T THEY!!!! FINE
あ：ohh so thats how it is… FFFFFFFFFINE
[frothing] you just love to hear it dont you [frustrated by the circumstances]
wish i would speak to you like this all the time. would make your life so easy, right
つ：nod nod. nene has tears in her eyes... tugging at his arms, hands
あ：feeling sooo reduced…
oh nene is such a humble girl i think she really quickly can be taken into a state of "IF YOU WOULD HAVE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
[cries] if you could want that
つ：it makes her cry, to simply have what she wants..... to, be, owned. hard to believe, every time....it's so extreme, he has to mean it.... she's a grateful girl, when its happening. blubbering little mess....
Amane in his broken mental state, beseeching them both with.... Why don't you tell me something, for once... I'm always talking... say something. But...! It would only be Nene replying, Tsukasa DOES understand these sorts of instructions aren't for him, he just sits and listens to Nene with Amane, eager for her to be his mouthpiece, speak for them both, as she does. he sees her as a mere extention.... she's so sincere, too
あ：he has a lot of sincere faith in nene to be able to express, she is hand selected by amane and deemed worthy of this, she is good girl and does as she is told, she can answer the call
つ：whining that, I, I like not thinking of anything else.... if you really want my attention, alway, s, if, if it really-- doesn't annoy you, Hanako-kun, I-I can't, imagine, if, you wouldn't be tired, you're never tired...? Of me....?
あ：Oh i feel like it's the sort of sentence that makes Hanako become so !? [wheeze] of course. of- of course! [that feeling he gets, like: ITS SO OBVIOUS, IT'S SELF EVIDENT] ...... i could never get tired of it... [mouth tense. the road bumps!! swallows, drags hand on face] ... it's not even a competition. no one is anything.
[devolving into like.. muttering] i could do this all day… [hufff….] if i could keep you here. you wouldn't even go home, anymore. [squeezes throat]
つ：for tsukasa, at times observing nene is like observing a younger version of himself... scared to be called dummy, scared to bore, annoy, upset amane... strokes and pets her as she talks, nuzzles nene.
あ：it is like that isn't it… like the insecure self who cannot believe the interest is really present. while tsukasa has, in a sense 'matured' and gotten to the point of trusting amane's feelings so entirely that the fact that amane wants something is the proof itself
つ：amane will not waste time with unnecessary things… tsukasa watched him have no friends. he knows he is choosing nene, for a reason. but seeing her be sensitive, is sweet… seeing amane reassure her, is sweet.
あ：its pleasing to see them communicate directly like this. what tsukasa loves to seeee... getting right to it, say the words that matter most
つ：feels like amane IS healing
あ：i do think it is one of hanako's most feeble emotions that he wishes yashiro did not have to go home at the end of the day. it would be a big admittance… for her to get to know. bc she has to understand he's like a sad dog about it
つ：its cute he will occilate between dom voice and like…. nuzzling nene. so cute… having a really sweet moment of her crying. nuzz nuzz, from both boys. I love the idea of Yashiro sneaking out at night and coming to school, even if she just. sleeps. somwhere in the school. giving hanako privilege of watching her sleep
あ：break you into the nurses office or something. it would be sweet
he surely wants to look at you all night and pet your head you know
つ：for all this though its funny if after a short beat he sort of…. looks…. over at Tsukasa. kind of half-lidded side-eye. Sortof grimmacing internally… like m…. observing him nuzzling and squeezing Nene, knowing that Tsukasa was also. Feeling those words, but did legitimately censor himself from replying… but its funny to be unable to control his nature towards Tsukasa. Throwing the dog a bone but, difficultly….. "and you. Do you have anything to say. Tsukasa."
Tsukasa is like !!!!!! :U ….. !!! ?!? [braindead to be called attention to]
nene is like ? … [slightly confused why Amane is talking to Tsukasa? is like when… since when? hm? Tsukasa…?]
when justin is in that. mode where he's so like. When justin is like AND I lik- e, sex, weird ,sex. when H'es liek. aND i'VE got a, rap personality, to i-i his, name-- uh, its. shitty tim. [is there an offchance he STINKS?] HAHA y-- n, no I… not like, no not, shitty like….
あ：rhgfghjf yeah
like fumbling to contribute as well
つ：[voice crackling in throat] YEAH I! [braindead]
…AMANE…!
あ：…………………. …………………………………………………….. ………… tsukasa.
[looks.]
[like. go on.]
つ：!!! pants, ah!!! [excited kid on a stage]
あ：breathing into the microphone
つ：Nh! Nene-chan!!! The same!! Me, too!! Ne, ne, Nene-chan? [pivoting towards her cluelessly]
its not the same as being like nervous its just being like lfjsdlfk;sj so mindless like ahouhh thank you for the opportunity!!! knocks over microphone
あ：oh you are going to activate hanako's dummy demon brain. youre not that smart huh.
[slow blink]
[FEELING like a benevolent god, as i reach over and grab your face with one hand]
つ：!!!
あ：[sigh] What is the same.
つ：hiccups A
wiggles. now nene is also staring at tsukasa like… hm…. can he really get tongue tied? what is this scene…..
YouRs! Yours! Ua-Hhheheeheehe, we, 're here, for, AMANE!
あ：nene's end of this
the way hanako just has to feel like. [leers] Yeah that's right. [shakes head side to side while holding it in hand. the way people who are used to foxes just garb their mouths]
[condescending tone]
つ：tsukasa just like HEHEHEHEHEHFEKGJRK!!!! HEEHEEEHEEheehee skitters ffeet under hakama . breathes
both nene and hanako looking so lidded . synchronus too
あ：💭 this is so easy it should be a crime. [hanako processing that dirty talking tsukasa feels like. shooting fish in a barrel]
つ：belong…. to Amane… fffor, Amane.
[quieter, but still trapdoor smiling] born…. for Amane… to be with, Amane….
あ：
つ：makes Nene pause
あ：[jenny voice] heyyyy waita sec
つ：funny to think of it working authentically on hanako for 1 second being like…..[nene observes hanako ceasing]
when hanako is like. the shape of. . fing ers,
[begins not paying attention]
あ：[turns]
つ：I think Hanako is shitty enough, charmingly, to start like picking his nose
あ：as if this doesn't really concern him
つ：its like.... at best, pets tsukasa's head, but condescendingly
あ：that's the best i can do for you
つ：mmhmmm……
sigh you did as i asked
あ：pets you but doesnt look
knocks tsukasa's hat off rudely in my gesture
つ：pant pant pant pant [perfectly satisfied]
💭 hmm… somehow this doesn't seem fair
💭… I dont know if Tsukasa-kun and I are really the same…. he's….. [squints, looking for kind words] . sure gracious, isn't he….
💭suddenly, I feel pretty spoiled….
あ：thinking, i dont know if i could handle it if Hanako-kun wouldn't even look at me
e-er. errrr…..
つ：eeehhhh…. really… hard to imagine…. what tsukasa-kun deals with…. how Hanako-kun appears from his position….
あ： nene thinking harder, in ways hanako and tsukasa just cannot: if i was just holding some other girl while hanako fingered her or something. omg wait! that sucks
😭hold on!
つ：WAIT THAT WOULD RUIN ME
I justs had to listen to wahtever Hanako-kun said to her and trust it applied to me too😭 WE'RE NOT ALIKE AT ALL, TSUKASA-KUN
あ：🐟💭i guess i'm insecure even when i'm in the 'center' of this-!!!!!
つ：it's so overwhelming, but, there are worse things than being overwhelmed, aren't there….
ah, somehow, tsukasa-kun… he seems so overwhelmed by the little he gets, doesn't he…. that's amazing, but…. is it really good…?
he was so happy, being spoken to, just now….
though, he's kind of always happy, isn't he…. should I be concerned? Is this overthinking…. but, well….
[huff] its Hanako-kun who I'm concerned about here….! why can't he….. do more…..Tsukasa-kun's graciousnesss…. it kind of feels like it's letting Hanako-kun get away with something….
just because someone allows such a lax treatment… does that make it alright? h-hmm… this is complicated.
あ：nene capable of being like ah hold on matte matte…
…… i mean… i guess hanako-kun could.. technically treat ME in lots of ways and i'd… [this is scalping but.]
………………………………. 6_6
つ：s... so long as.... I was still... there.....
あ：i would just. be happy to be his girl i guess [bald]
つ：m-maybe that's, s, satisfying in and of itself, u-uhm… ettoo…… mmm.. l-like, my own. ah. loyalty, p.. proven
m-maybe that's why Tsukasa-kun is so self-satisfied….
hmm, I suddenly feel like the most immature one here, ….. -- EXCEPT, HANAKO-KUN is just following his whims….! mmm
あ：…. but still, why doesn't hanako-kun want to be any nicer, is he really okay with treating his younger twin brother this way….
[indignant] hey, arent i older!
つ：… Tsukasa-kun said… he was born for Amane… that is how he feels, isn't it….
it's…. almost literal-feeling, in his case, isn't it….
あ：I suppose I can't imagine what it would be like to always be with Hanako-kun, since I was born.... [gets emo on tsukasa's behalf]
つ：see i want a threeway where hanako starts talking to nene as he does, and she just fucking grabs tsukasa's face and puts his face in hanako's face, and hanako is like RECORD SCRATCH
あ：it is her job to be like hey!!!
つ：[Hanako tries to look away. nene insanely grabs his jaw too]
she didn't have a plan. this isn't actually well executed
just got. indignant
あ：if we're just grabbing each other's faces out here
if thats how we do things
つ：[trying to be fucking. firm-footed. we do things like this out here, don't we!! I'M OLDER]
WHY DO WE ALWAYS LISTENT O ONLY HANAKO-KUN
あ：lol flksdghdf it feels like itd be such a [staring at each other] tsukasa [spiritually] hi handsem
つ：wiggles fingers hello vibes
smiles so pleasantly!
fancy seeing you heeere
nene trying to be a bold, dominant force: WHY DON'T YOU SAY HOW YOU FEEL, H, HANAKO-KUN!
ALWAYS TELLING US, W,WHAT TO, DO, MMMAKING US TALK TO YOU… WH, WHAT ABOUT TSUKASA-KUN… C. CAN YOU TALK TO HIM FOR ONCE
[hands shaking holding them in place above her]
あ：wtf you dont kiss me i kiss you [pouts]
hanako, disoriented, like -- where am i . werent we all like. Me: I own you You: You own us
つ：Tsukasa is just like [trapdoor mouth] heke? but I also think given a beat Tsukasa would be like… Nene-chan doesn't have to do this….❤️
you don't have to talk, Amane!
YES HE DOES
[enjoying this immensely] oh
あ：heiki heiki🤤 daijoubu
im fiibne.
つ：sssooo like mnn hehe ouhhh this is so cuuute endearing awe nene-chan mmmblblbl
enjoying staring at amane though like mm yes hehe
あ：a moment of pleasure for me
i think hanako is just like !? [frozen. bc the sheer like. what.]
[internally, flatly] what
you want me to what
[frowns] [but like its so 'what' that he cant actually freak tf out about it really its like ?]
especially when tsukasa is just like looking at him dopily i think its like
つ：………………….. we're too familiar for this, Yashiro. You don't get it [shittily]
あ：yeah. like . uhhh. lol…. n-no?
Why would I tell Tsukasa my feelings.
つ：b. because…..
あ：He doesn't need to hear my feelings.
Isn't that right.
Tsukasa.
つ： I already know how Amane feels.
[wilting a little]
BUT ISN'T IT NICE TO. TO HEAR IT!?
YOU LIKE TO HEAR IT, DON'T YOU?!
あ："Hey……."
つ：Y, YOU LIKE TO HEAR IT!! IT FEELS GOOD TO HEAR IT!!! WHAT ARE WE DOING BUT MAKING. EACH OTHER. FEEL GOOD!!!!
あ：💭 you want me to make my little brother "feel good" ? kimochi warui
つ：I GET TO HEAR IT!!! A-AND YOU, JUST, S, sit there, I, I get that it's different, but…..
b, but, T, Tsukasa-kun is. He's, he's patient, a-and,
wag wag awe Nene-chan…..
wtf defending meeeee 💔 aweee
あ：Amane becoming like the. Looks at you expressionlessly like you are a particle. but i think he's not really offended by this still, it's just like. raises brow.
つ：I-I know he's content with just being present, I know it's different, but.. [trying so hard to articulate her own thesis. should have thought this through]
あ：tilts head. looks at her with some genuine pity, like, man she's upset about something isn't she. lifts head out of her hold but slowly, not ripping away or anything. reaches down, pets her head
So… you feel bad for Tsukasa because he's… well-behaved or something
つ：tsukasa, scalping Amane: It's difficult for Amane, so he doesn't need to do it
Nene-chan is so kind…..
あ：[chuffs] Hey.
Quit it
This isn't about me
つ：YOU LISTEN TO HIM TALKING TO ME…. you respond, too… to it….I feel it.
receiving things so indirectly always…… a. aren't I…. …. spoiled….?
あ：You are spoiled. [not helping]
つ：slaps him a little
あ：deserved. allows it
necessary
つ：[MOVING ON] Tsukasa-kun…. can it really be like this forever, and be okay…. we… aren't exactly the same, actually….
I couldn't do what you do, at all…!
If I was…. with, p, people, but I was always…. on the sides…. if I was just holding onto someone else…. someone else getting all the, love poured into them….
あ：[watching her go on like sheesh… when you say it like that]
[starting to feel a lil bad. hackles raise.]
つ：[nnnnnot my bullshit being laid out]
あ：but you put hanako in such a position of... what, are you going to defend that you're very loving to tsukasa
つ：or do you si t there and wait for TSUKASA to do so
hell both ways
あ：i dont like where this is going
[trying to intercept tsukasa responding] Well, what am I supposed to do, to make you feel better Yashiro? You just want me to tell him, [falters.] that, it's good that he's here or whatever
[6:53 PM]
[trying to think on his feet] it's… I mean, the fact that I'm even letting him stay in the room. Is all the proof.
つ：tsukasa nodding
feeling. feeble.
あ：… [doesnt like the vibes…]
[looking at nene who is like, wet eyed at this point surely. troubled looking.] [feeling like Ohhhhh what do you want to hear…]
rubs face.
つ：so feeling, stupid and belittled and yet still somewhat righteous, but unable to understand how to articulate any of it
あ：tsukasa must feel like oh poor nene she really is sad for me wwww
つ：petting her, shushing her, rubbing her lovingly with Amane…..
[softly] …. I'm like Nene-chan, in the future
Nene-chan… is like me, before!
Amane, [readying the scalping device] was… Amane. Hehe. I would lose something of his…. or break it… and he would say [PERFECT IMPRESSION] TSUKASA, YOU IDIOT
…. [smiling] he's like that
he would groan [PERFECT IMPRESSION] UUGHHghh, Tsukasa! hehe. It's like that for Nene-chan, now
….. but. That's not how Amane really feels. Of course, of course! Of course, you know, how he really feels! It's easier to groan, hehe
but… we're having fun here, Tsukasa…..
even if you know it's true….. objectively…. it would feel good to have….. more…..wouldn't it….?
[plainly] If Amane wanted to give me more, I would like that.
Is Nene-chan going to make him?
n-. n-no ,
[disappointed] awe. okay!
w-wait.
あ：while they talk
つ：hanako transforming into a corn cob
あ：like sttttoppppp….. stop it
[reactively] its not THAT hard, i dont need to be FORCED
tsukasa is talking about me being. A LITTLE KID im not like that now
[getting sooo.. like.. omgg stop the drags… stooop… IM NOT SIX ANYMOOORE THIS ISNT LIKE BREAKING MY TOY TRAIN]
[FUCK!!!]
but i think this would make tsukasa feel so ahaha. no you are still amane
like nene goes chigau. that is you now.
つ：its not so different.
あ：tsukasa agrees. un un. oh its amane.
つ：he does call me dummy, sometimes
un un
あ：[feeling like he is being forcefully shrunked]
wwHAAAT WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME???
"THANKS FOR HOLDING YASHIRO WHILE I FUCK HER" ?F/GJFD
"THANKS FOR BEING SO WELL-BEHAVED AND LOYAL THAT YOU PROP HER UPF OR ME"
つ：[talking to tsukasa, somewhat ignoring hanako] he's always saying things are self-evident and stuff…..
un, un
he doesn't like to say it directly.
action, action! Amane is about action! to your bodyyy [wiggling fingers] hehehe
あ：tsukasa, kindly: moe deshou.
kawaii
つ：moe
makes nene giggle
あ：kawaii desuyo ne…
nene: souu…
つ：… un…… moee…..
closes eyes, nodding
sortof whispering towards tsukasa but still audible: but doesn't it make you wish it would be challenged….
あ：oh it's very fun to see amane be challenged
[tongue lolling emotion]
his reactions are the best
so, will you? [wishmaker voice]
but during this babbling i do want amane to just burst out like HEY.
[INTERRUPTS.] Look look look…………………. Fine. We'll try it out. [like ugh.. UGH. it doesnt matter wtf.] so can we stop talking and actually get to the funs tuff
getting indignant about not being predictable. its NOT in my nature.
i'll show you two…
つ：i'm not even, having problems!!!
あ：If it really matters soo much to you Yashiro. Fine! Whatever you know. Oh me? Totally fine
つ：tsukasa smiling pleasantly. flowers around. mmm hehe
あ：[HUFFS]. watch this. [coughs] GOOD BOY TSUKASA. [like i am blasting a sonic beam]
つ：big eyes
also big eyes
she can observe it indeed working but its so funny, the crudest animal, he is just buzzing like ehheheheehe!!!!
REALLY!!
あ：the way you can't eat food as a joke etc.
[not a very immediate response, but trying to maintain cool front] Mmm-hmm… of. course you are. You're always good. [hurriedly, no homo] Just like Yashiro.
💭 cuz you two are ~the same~ or whatever. ohh good for you.
つ：ah he's so funny he is so protected. just funny
but tsukasa is just like paaant hehe CANT RESIST PUTTING ARMS AROUND SHOULDERS!!!
THANK YOU, AMANE!!!
nuzzle nuzzle nuzzle
あ：trying to prove a point but feeling so
つ：simply satisfied with this step 1. like we're rehabilitating an animal
あ：[grabs tsukasa's shoulders. but stops self from prying off.] [slack grip.]
[doesnt. know what to do.] Yeah yeah you're welcome…
[rolls shoulders.]
つ：hugs tsukasa….. you are good….. it'll be even more fun, some day
oooouu really……?
mmhm!
あ：Mhmm. [not looking at anything.] So fun.
[sounds like i am appeasing some choddlers]
つ：grabs his cock
あ：[promising a kid you'll buy them a unicorn-- HRUGHFD]GF
つ：the way nene is threatening shijima. hthat sort of heelturn she can do
or when she suddenly berates hanako after playing easygoing/dumb
あ：yes omg… played you under the fucking table actually
i love whens he threatens shijima she gets all devil horns
fully upright horns
つ：pumps through slacks. has her hand just between them, and a hand on tsukasa's back, still, from the hug
tsukasa is like hmmm, i see i see, holds Amane in place. increases grip on shoulders.
あ：Oh like the sound of iron bars slamming shut. it's all happening so fast -- like tsukasa reacted just before he could peel off and escape hand
Expert tsukasa reaction time
So you just have Hanako kicking his legs about and making as if to float/inch backwards
startled horse out here. but ohhhhhhhhhh i think the cock pain is unimaginable in this position. 0-100… you weren't actually keeping track of yourself this whole time. feels like your body has been tense and wound up from all the prattling
becomes so very hard in her grip it's abysmal
つ：nene has a devil horns mode somewhere inside of her. actually hanako being shitty this whole time has just made her certain of doing this, at a point.
あ：He thinks he can talk down to us like we're just two dumb kids or something ooooh....
つ：[flatly] oh, you got hard fast.
あ：dissociates
つ：slides hand into pants. just jerks off so fast
あ：It's never so. fast
つ：tsukasa's hand of this deal is simply being face against amane's cheek and nuzzling and getting THE most upclose experience of him breathing and panting and shuddering everrr WOOOOOWWWW
[heavily] Thhis is ffun, Nene-chan…… [breathed into Amane's ear]
あ：the-- you should never be talking to your sibling if you can see/touch your penis. shouldn't be chest to chest with tsukasa in embrace while getting cock stroked. sirens going off. WE ARE IN DANGER
but i think delightfully it shuts his brain down enough that he has no freaking plan of escape and is just squirmbling… grapples, grasps tsukasa and nene intermittently, tight grasps! but i think she is scarily determined and unfettered by some sloppy pawing at
they both feel amane buck into her hand harshly as tsukasa speaks… shuddering…
trying to choke down noises….
つ：nene-chan is very impressive, he thinks.....
あ：very clever girl!
つ：tsukasa-kun, maybe you could keep doing that…..
mmm, talking? uuehehehe
あ：nene onee-chan is in the room, has the mic. i think she could be soo needling and exact actually, like: I can feel that he likes you talking.
つ：😮
あ：hauhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh reallyyyyy?
つ：make hanako grab his own face
あ：you are FLAYING HIM
it sjust like NNGHFD!!!
knocks off my hat
つ：Amane…. it's good if it's for Nene-chan, right…? Isn't it good?
she wants this….. you're pleasing her! That feels good, doesn't it, Amane? You can't feel bad for doing something she likes
(why am I on blast….)
あ：(thats how it is girl…)
つ：he is chaotic alignment.
mm, mmm, you're giving her a show….! She likes us, you know….
あ：[hands claw at the front of tsukasa's shirt] [scrabble scrabble.. restless…]
つ：….[thinking about the show, for her, then] …… I love you❤️
あ：hanako has become the big show. [cock painfully, dramatically seizing in her grip]
i think its so oo lfijgghf. like hg fkghf dont tsay yhtat while i am getting jerked off so hard ifkdgh ..f [leaks]
[drips onto her]
つ：nene finally tongue-tied observing this. ack. ddndmn. boys
simply can only keep pumping mindlessly
あ：its a lot to be right up against. sheeesh the intensity…
つ：petting Amaneeee... really stroking face, hair, back. no longer gripping him tightly in place...
あ：A good position honestly… i like how he could reach past tsukasa to touch nene for comfort too, pet her hair…
not in any state to like… flee.. its like ooh…….. youve shrunk him…
つ：gaze BESEECHINGLY but helplessly. while bucking into hand.
does this pleeaaase youuuuu
あ：is this really whatis wanted
[whines.]
つ：shudders to hear him whiine so close.... also whines, like sympathetic animal
あ：help… the whacky shaaack
[RUBS FACE AGAINST…]
つ：the threeway… was dangerous, always
HYUUEEEE NUZZLING. STEAM COMES OFF HEAD
あ：nuzzling but in a manner like two possessed animals
frenetic energy. we are not calming down from it
rub rub rub… ohh and the way tuggies can be sooo violent when youre feeling it like fucks hand soo hard. rhghfg… always feel insane when im feeling it THAT hard.
girl isnt even moving her hand much
つ：at this point…. she is really just feeling his pace and intensity, it's mostly him now….
seeing them nuzzle… w… whoa…. never seen it like this… haven't imagined it like this…. ! s. sweet, right….
moves hands to weirdly touch his ribs, buttons of his gakuran
あ：auerrr.. dizzying… reflexively, hanako feels fear about something like this. gut clenches. you usually are trying to live your life so that you would never be in a position like this.
[thinks] oh but the brain…! you know, i think everything that lead up to this has left him in a position where there's a voice that's just like.. wailing in the brain… like… 'why can't you just say it back… why can't you just say you love them…! why can't you just say it… i want to say it! i want to say it back… i do! i do want to…' [eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared] [shaking head back and forth] [pulling hips away in fear, pushing them back into grip harshly in desperation] … there's times where your own mental barriers are sooo at war with your raw raw brain being activated by sex.. like… it's as if someone has escaped prison and is trying to grab the mic -- QUICK, NOW!! N OW… SAY IT!! say it say it say it say it.. say it. say it!!!!!! say it…. you don't even tell yashiro it, you're soo shitty, PLEASE, SAY IT!! SAY SOMETHING!!! [throat SEALED.] SAY IT [lips twitching, pulling] [swallowing, tongue curling] CMONN JUST.. [sound that dies off in 1 second, rghh SCALDING NOO MURI MURI IF FGHDF I CANT]
it should be fine it will be fine. they'd be so happy to hear it. you're fucking them, why wouldn't you want them to feel good. [bonk. bonk.] but also: [DYING, CRYING, FEEL LIKE BODY IS GOING TO INVERT, TONGUE HURTS, MUSCLES ARE TENSE!! REFUSE]
つ：a part of hanako that is like I HATE IT THE MOST IF I SAY IT IN THIS CIRCUMSTANCE!!! [but it takes a circumstance like this to say it, the way it works]
あ：i dont want to do it like this NOOO its not faaair i dont want to ITS EMBARRASSING HA-ZU-KA-SHIII!! FSDHGJF NOOOO… but also like: I KNOW YOU WONT DO IT LATER!! ASSHOLE
absolutely NO way will you say it in a casual context!!!
つ：that is the problem . you wont even THINK about saying it later, when you're all comfortable
when the world is your oysterrrrr
あ：the more he tries… really TRIES to say something.. the more its like.. [choking sounds..] [pulls own hair] … i think it really cannot even get close to the sounds… such a hump, its just like vague buzzing in the throat.
[mouth moving indistinctly]
つ：tsukasa listening attentively to the starts and stops.... can tell he's trying at something... which is interesting.
あ：but i think itd be cuuute if… like he has to pivot and hoarsely say 'help'
amane needs. help
[shaking tsukasa's shoulders slightly] [head hung]
つ：!!!
… [whispering like child] from me, or Nene-chan
あ：who do i give the gun
つ：all good, and terrible options
あ：difficult. oh but you know… despite everything, i do think its like, it is nene who is assaulting me and i think he's kind of feeling an instinctive urge to hide against tsukasa. your little shriveled pea islike my gf is scary… brother help
its funny… when i think about the hindbrain
tsukasa wouldnt do this to me😭
つ：kowaii nene-chan!!!
ITS TRUE.
your gf is scarier
あ：in response to tsukasa's question, amane's hands reach up and grab tsukasa's face weakly
wordless
つ：ah! [oh its me!]
[actually quietly enough to not be heard by nene, especially over all the rustling….] yes, Amane…?
あ：[simmering slightly… what is this ……….. it feels like we're under a blanket and tsukasa is talking to me in the middle of big kid stuff…] [.. shimmies closer. umm turns out , whispering helps the feeble sealed throat] i w. i want to… >///<;;;.
say. stuff. [muttering] but s'harrd.d….
つ：hmmm... how can I help you say it?
あ：[groans...] i dont know.......!! ........ ... i dont know what my problem is.
つ：nene so fucking interested in fact whispering is happening. suddenly feels like damn they are brothers
IM the fuckin third wheel omfg
あ：holy shit…! [but like respectfully] thats fair for now.
[closes eyes]
つ：it is like. respectfully .
あ：its funny to like pause jerking off.
but still hand on cock
つ：you can't let him escape but indeed. ceases pumping. they are. talkingit seems rude.
hmmm. do you want to say something good? or bad?
its like lol is he trying to say stop or something nasty or something nice …/?? hmhmm
あ：its good to be wondering lol
[hanako looking miserable] good…?
[pinches brow, frustrated] no, wait, definitely good. you. you want to hear it. i just. [rhg!] i just want to… i want to be like. [RGH!!!]
つ：oh, something I want to hear….!
[sound of a penny falling to the ground] do you want to ask to kiss?
あ：
you've made me so angry
つ：I'M SORRY HANAKO I'M SAYING YES TO THE MOMENT AND THAT IS WHAT TSUKASA WOULD SAY
oh shit what i want? ok
あ：[distracted] you want to kiss.
(fucking.. where the fuck am i!!!!!!!)
つ：nods
it feels good
あ：uhuh.
you know that
つ：they're talking so much.....
あ：its getting stupid out here
[flatly] I don't want to say anything actually.
つ：fucking fsdklj;gkl;gjgklf;gg THIS IS HOW NARROW THE HOLE IS
BUT ITS SO GOOD!!!! so ufunnyy.
あ：Unfortunately.
Its gone there's no more urgency
つ：awe…..! okay……
…. nene-chan has paused.
…. do you wanna finish
あ：you almost want to be like. No
[sighs and slumps on] [just. reaches down and moves nene's hand]
commence.
つ：o-oh..!!! c. continues??
tsukasa-kun… is he okay…..
un un….
[whispering to Amane again, much to nene's chagrin] amane asked me what i'd like to hear…. … there's too many of those to help you
so, I'll never guess it.
you have to imagine tsukas'as brain trying to procure 'thing i want amane to say' is fucking. like. a cacophony of possibilities. and theyre mostly like. TSUKASA LET'S PLAY, TSUKASA LET'S HAVE A STARING CONTEST LIKE WE USED TO, TSUKASA I WANT TO HAVE A SLEEPOVER,
あ：hm things to make a guy horny honestly… you know amane's own nature keeps him suspended in things longer than necessary, you really put yourself into a state of being edged
so funny though youve kind of made it worse bc this time youre gonna b elike: kiss……… while getting jerked off again
つ：and then the ones Amane would especially not want to hear, the ill stuff like Tsukasaaaa let me do it againnnn, it felt so good [to stab you], Tsukasa you looked so good that day toooo, Tsukasaaaaa can I come on you
the fucking unending list of things Tsukasa Would Like To Hear. Would be a Tome
あ：hanako knows not what he is getting horny about
i think its such a brainless reaction like oh you got so much huh
つ：lots.
あ：this is making suki feel like small potatoes
つ：in the grand scheme it is kind of small potatoes which is extremely funny
its like, larger potatoes to NENE to overhear
like it would touch her heart. DONT GET ME WRONG TSUKASA WOULD LOVE IT AND BE VERY ENAMOURED TO HEAR IT!!!!
amane is losing his mind over a single MINERAL
あ：no yes of course. oh its funny if. like despite the conversation devolving seemingly. that actually tsukasa took the edge off of things and hanakois like hwatever. i can say it
in a roundabout way. like not how you think
つ：so effectively. so funny but it should work that way. like wtf
あ：you just made it feel so like [looks]
[sighs while getting jerked off again] [leisurely almost] i love you too.
there done. OHH everyone fucking clap now
つ：!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
あ：thats right
つ：[overlapping audio] AMANE!!!!
HANAKO-KUN!!!!
あ：[leaks]
つ：[ALL HANDS RUSH FORWARDS TO PET]
あ：(⊙_◎)
つ：AMANEEE AMANE AMANEEEEE AHAHAHHAHAHA I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR THAT!! [stomps foot] I WOULD I WOULD I WOULD!!!
[wiping a tear]
ah… I did something….. !!! good for them…. this feels like something has been loosened….. I did something nice…. after all…
I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!! Amane!!! [NUZZ NUZZ]
あ：[being assaulted, but stress has been diffused enough that he can just cough. loll head, eyes lidded still]
つ：I love you, too…..!
あ：I love you… [muttering.]
つ：[cracks voice bc he is so precious rn, wtf!!]
あ：[reaches and pets nene]
[cups her face for a bit]
つ：a more elegant, delicate jerking motion, loving caresses
あ：well here i am… (￣、￣) and. indeed. this feels good. okay i did it. (￣﹃￣)
i proved myself
i close my eyes and ic ome. because ti is my choice
つ：nene snaking in to kiss him on the cheek
comes peacefully
あ：i like to do it.
[rests chin on tsukasa's shoulder]
つ：it pleases my compatriots.
nene after this is like. HOOUUUUUUUUhh… OOFs down
like ahhh a hardworking girl, exhausted, emotionally…. but this ended so well….
pleased… satisfied…. mmm
あ：imagining hanako having become so placid he looks kind of dead-eyed and vacant
つ：[whispering, but audibly, to Nene. I dont need Amane to not hear this.] Thank you, Nene-chan…!
I really liked it!
its so fun to be right there!
あ：[loudly] I liked it too.
[broken]
つ：turns
turns
あ：fkdghdf
looks like fucking.. WHAT!!!!!!!!!
"SORRY. should i say that i HATED it."
つ：both nene and tsukasa so like mmmmnn..g…h…. mmm…. mmm
ah, they both laugh at him… giggly
bubbly girlz
あ：what the fuck………….
[floats out of the room]
つ：continue giggling in a pile, facing each other….
for nene, it's an adrenaline rush finally like ah, petering off… wooo the butterflies, settling…!
little tangle of limbs with tsukasa, hands intermingled, knees against one another…..
they will touch foreheads and laugh and have an odd atmosphere of nuzzling for a while.
i wish i could make hanako regret leaving like he comes back and they are kissing lol
あ：loool yes
oh my god the most like cucked feeling
what hte fuck
[angry]
つ：calmly kissing. happened organically. we didnt think about it
tsukasa was thinking about kissing and nene-chan was very keen on gazing upon tsukasa directly for once, not avoiding him, as that defeats the point of her new creed, and one thing lead 2 another, didn't think about it too hard
あ：Hanako whenever he forces his way between kou and nene. like slides myself in the middle physically
descends on you two like an annoying weiner dog
visually i just love the thought of squirmbling over and descending between them. wergle wergle. chuffs.
つ：nene feels a bit shy about it like flkjsklf ah what HAS come over me omg… c. crazy day. feels slightly corrected (but a little amused….)…. tsukasa just feels LOL
HAHA
[cuddles j00 then. puts leg and arm around]
あ：[grabs her pussy]
these actions
happening simultaneously
つ：one motion
nuzzle . doesnt notice you went for nene's pussy. just thinks we're snuggling all of us. ready for a naparoo
あ：[just wordlessly i continue to rub her pussy]
its a crazy day indeed
つ：nene kinda feeling like a . oh i could get fingered… i was such a good girl for hanako-kun
i did a good thing and I feel good about it, being fingered would be nice
あ：the receptiveness would make hanako feel like "sigh. i also would like to finger"
but a funny atmosphere of doing this with tsukasa like. wrapped around. but like… allows it.
つ：some mutually comforting fingering for us. with tsukasa just latched affectionately, causing no problems. its like what nene did was increase possibility for things like… this. hanako technically in between them.
あ：you've greased the wheels…
fingering nene… getting nuzzled… its good though…. mmm its almost like its… its easy enough to quietly use other hand to just pet tsukasa. rub…
つ：feeling the most, mmm my... dogs.... sigh. peaceful vibes. nene clinging and tugging, her girlish self. a kind of... nostalgic feel to how 'basic' this lil session is. nice for hanako
あ：can just get lost in the sauce of fingering. and we just enjoy that and do not engage in mental chess
siiiigh i want hanako's own stubbornness to kind of loop around into… like wanting to prove a point in how not big a deal this stuff is for me, look. but instead just entrapping himself in circumstances where he cannot escape the raw responses.. like. Look how cool and progressive i am (kisses Tsukasa on the head) or smtn. i lean over and peck on cheek. but then you are forced to live in the moment of both Nene and Tsukasa becoming [stare]
and also not being like brave still lakshfhd like youre so far from makeouts…
つ：i changed so much. i altered hanako's dna
whoa.
o3o …..
tucks… against amane's back….
あ：humbling to be chuu'd
つ：one little step atta time!
i like that hanako will probably just like, decompress from THIS day… but spend remaining days just like. thinking about freaking… Nene… Tsukasa…. these freaks
she wants me to idk DO SOMETHING with him, he wants to, kiss me, nene would probably love to WATCH that…. i didn't ask for this
this was not brought on be me, i wuld never instigate this
.. BUT NEITHER WUOLD TSUKASA
あ：Why would Nene want me to look at Tsukasa while she jerks me off. wakaranai
Didn't she just say that she would be too insecure if she was off to the sides.
when justin is like. bitches be crazy
つ：bitches! be crazy!
あ：tsukasa definitely wouldn't do that like. i mean he hasn't.
つ：he is not that rogue.
あ：Even if……… like………….. on some technical level………….. Tsukasa would enjoy kissing me…. [don't like to think it.] …………… I mean, we literally lived and died together. And that's not what happened.
[self aware moment] I mean. Tsukasa… wouldn't. Force himself onto me. [mouth pressed into a line] I can clip him for just hugging me too much.
[but you hate the self awareness] it's kind of my fault for not rejecting the situation harder earlier.
bUT I WOULD BE MORE SANE IF YASHIRO HADN'T GOTTEN ALL COCK CRAZY
つ：its hard for a guy to think while he's being jerked off!
i can't make decisions like that!
i can't slice the pie!!!
あ：fucking.. what guy can say no to hottest girl he knows jerking him off!! of course it feels good wtf
so it's her fault i guess
[literally stewing for hours] …. and tsukasa even TOLD yashiro that he is fine with things, and, HE IS, he's liable to stick his hands somewhere he shouldn't for a second but--
He's just not thinking, it's like when he'd make a grab for food too fast before mom set it down
つ：he's just childish like that
it's YASHIRO who wants to.. take things to some, new level. For some reason….! Pervert…
a perversion of my relationship
あ： Insatiable…
Not satisfied with things as they are… for some reason
It's not enough to be sitting on Tsukasa like some luxurious throne while I fuck her
つ：its not enough to be so spoiled, i have to be harassed…
do enjoy thinking about Hanako toasting himself internally while starting out/trying to drag nene mentally for being the weird one here. you just get to the point its inevitably like. depraved… horny,gf. bizarre, freakish girl, wants it to get so weird in here, ew, wants to swap spit with me and my little brother like a whore
[just laying like this for a long time] [notices he has a boner] N
あ：Hanako is making the air quantifiably more humid
つ：i love a guy alone in his bathroom at night with too much spare time to think. alone with boner
あ：Honestly I think about this so much. I mean it's actually kind of what my reoccurring bit is with Hanako, where -- in , shaming you for being horny about this, he goes on to describe things graphically and gets horny in teh act of doing it
I do think whenever it's like: Stupid slut.. what… you want me to fuck his face
he's really stoking himself at the thought
つ：stroking himself
あ：I think also the format of bullying makes him get cruder and harsher than he would normally... but htis just makes him. horny!!!!!!!!!!
つ：not being eloquent guy no more
あ：While trying to be upsetting. its like whaaaaat... you wanna jus twatch... finger yourself.. while he jerks me off [losing vision]
つ：its his own fault. But it's a noxious cloud effect where it dissintegrates nene too much for her to be the one to call him out, and turns tsukasa into the one like [looks]
あ：You know when a character is just broke. and they walk themselves back into, like,
having fantasies
Your brain like ran a maze incidentally. desperate for pleasure
It just expands Hanako's brain to think in this format. you can suddenly see so many positions
つ：its one situation though where nobody can do basically anything... it will just be hanako rambling like a madman, horny, tsukasa getting hot wind into his brain like mnrgm? (has NEVER congealed this imagery in his LIFE)
nene recieving this like it'sa scolding, but its also things she could have NEVER congealed as imagery, either!!!
あ：the [chuckles im in danger kid] fused with [why would you draw that] meme
つ：dealing with the immediacy of the imagery
hanako is creating images for everyone involved to be slack jawed at
0 notes
Note
Loki / Cock warming / 8 💘
Insomnia
Mystery Prompt: “Tell me you want more. I feel your cunt begging me.”
Warnings: suggested somniphilia, noncon/rape, cockwarming.
The water ripples before you. The moonlight is silver and silky as it reflects off the surface, the low tides of Asgard swaying in the night. You come here when you can’t sleep, which as of late was most nights.
You wake after only a few hours and find yourself restless but exhausted. So you wander until you can calm the storm brewing without reason.
You look up at the stars as you cross your arms over your knees.
The hem of your shift it wetted by the flow of the cool sea, your toes numbed by as the foam ebbs back again. From there, you can see your father’s house on its stilted platform, looking out over the docks. When you left he was snoring next to your mother.
You stretch out your legs completely and sigh. You don’t know what keeps you awake. Strange dreams you can’t remember when you wake. An unnamed dread you cannot place. You close your eyes and grasp for the threads of unconsciousness. If you set out now, you might be tired enough upon your return to fall into slumber without a struggle.
“A young maiden alone after dark,” the voice creeps up your spine as the footsteps approach.
You hadn’t heard him. You look up as the lithe figure stops, looming over you, his profile limned as he gazes up at the moon. You know him, he is a prince, one of two.
“Your highness…”
“Ah, even the night is a poor disguise,” he says as he steps closer and turns to sit in the sand beside you, “have you never been told it is treacherous for a maiden to be near the sea so late.”
“A child’s tale,” you say, “your highness, I…”
“Let us forget the title and the civilities,” he grabs your arm before you can push yourself up. Your shift is thinner as the ocean air swirls around you and draws his eyes to the pointed buds beneath, “do you flee some horrid trap? What brings you to the shore so late?”
“I… cannot sleep,” you admit, “and you, if I might ask?”
“The same,” his eyes linger, the green irises glowing like a feline’s, “I dream of a lady… she looks much like you.”
“Pardon?” you utter.
“She sleeps in a bed beneath a curtain of netting, a dress of stained linen hung over the end of the frame, her family not far,” he grabs your arm as you flinch, “she sleeps heavy, for some minutes, but tease her too much and she wakes with a start.”
You shake your head as you blink at him. His words put you on edge but you cannot know his meaning.
“A disappointment to find it empty this night,” his other hand stretches across your throat and he forces you down into the sand, “but she hasn’t gone far, has she?”
“What--”
“Do you wake sore? Or perhaps it is a dull emptiness you cannot place?” he slithers as he moves his body over you, your skirt rumpling above his knees as he plants his between them, “do you sense me when you wake? Do you smell me on your flesh or your sweaty sheets? You feel me when you use your pot and wonder why you’re so tender?”
“I don’t…”
“Did you come to cleanse yourself,” he pushes his hand between your legs and flicks your clit, “you are wet for me. Your body expects it.”
“I…”
“A charm, though it does not inspire true sleep, a trance, it does little to ease fatigue but the mind calms and the body becomes malleable,” he shoves his fingers against your entrance and they glide it, a gasp rising from your lips, “the lady does not know why she wakes more tired than the night before. A snap of the fingers and her recollection is gone with the night.”
“You cannot--”
“Mmm, but her body recalls and her body hungers though she cannot say for what,” he drew his fingers from your warmth and spreads your folds, “how can she know she is the prince’s nocturnal delight?”
He fumbles as you squirm, but you cannot move him, even as you push upon his shoulders. Fabric rustles as the icy water licks at your feet. Your heels crush the wet sand as you wriggles desperately.
“Does the lady not know that she is fortunate to be favoured, if even just for her cunt?” he purrs as he slips his soft tip along your sex, “that she fits a god as no peasant should.”
He glides into you easily but fills you to the brim. He lets his weight down upon you as your walls squeeze and you murmur in confusion. He is familiar but you cannot say how. He sinks to his hilt and holds himself there as you squirm. The pressure is unbearable and the panic rises as you are trapped beneath him.
“I don’t understand,” you dig your nails into his jacket and quiver.”
“Tell me you want more,” he frames your face with his long fingers and stays buried inside you, “I feel your cunt begging me.”
414 notes
·
View notes
Note
Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink
~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD
.-
FROM THIS LIST | Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜
.-
When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.
He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.
“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face.
“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk.
It’s a decade and a half later— as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.
“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”
Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”
“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”
“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least, to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly, searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand.
“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.
“Thanks Cas.”
She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”
“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”
“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.
Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”
“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”
“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.
“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.
Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”
“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice.
“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.
Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”
Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”
Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”
“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.
Yeah, today is so bloody shit.
.-
Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.
Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.
“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.
“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.
“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors.
They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.
To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.
“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”
Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.
“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”
“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”
The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”
Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”
“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even.
“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”
“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.
“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.
“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”
Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.
“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.
.-
The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.
.-
He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital.
However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.
While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin.
And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.
And fuck.
Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.
They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.
Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.
“Oh, you’re a fan then?”
Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”
“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”
“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.
“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”
“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.
“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”
And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.
And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.
“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.
“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”
Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.
“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”
And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped.
Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.
God, what an idiot.
With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”
Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.
Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.
.-
~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist
~Buy Me A Coffee
#WOLFSTAR#REMUS LUPIN#SIRIUS BLACK#SIRIUSXREMUS#REMUSXSIRIUS#WOLFSTAR FLUFF#THE HARRY POTTER SERIES#MARAUDERS#HARRY POTTER SERIES#ILU Victoria!!!#also to anyone side eyeing the buy me a coffee plz do not judge me#i am so searing embarrassed about it#rip#just it's there i guess#calls;jalksdgjaeowifjsadlkgh#look away from me#!!!#lmfao#spilt ink
203 notes
·
View notes
Text
love alive ⤑ jjk | m.
⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party. 〞post break up au. exes to lovers au.
❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: jungkook x reader
❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut
❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 17k
⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of alcohol, swearing, so much angst, pining? i guess, they’re both broken up but still love each other so there’s that lmao, reader emotionally cheats a fair amount, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, pussy eating, hair pulling, fingering, dirty talk, this was supposed to be soft sex but idk what happened, okay it’s kinda soft but also feral, tender feral sex, aka the seraphjoon vibe, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, multiple orgasms
➵ 𝑎/𝑛: YEEEHAW LOOK I DID SOMETHING !! i had sudden inspo for this fic and while it HURTS it doesn’t hurt too bad i dont think. anyway, i hope you enjoy it but its like 3am so i’m going to bed now hawyeet
⇥ part of the mixtape series
⏤ edited by my wonderful beta @shadowsremedy
One late Friday evening, Jungkook finds himself in his apartment. He’s currently sat on the sofa, simply staring off into space as he waits for his date to return. Jungkook doesn’t really remember much about her, they’d just been to dinner and try as he might, he just hadn’t been able to focus on the conversation. One reason being none other than it had been a completely stilted conversation - first dates were always awkward - but paired with the fact he barely knows her, and that he’d been on about seventeen different first dates in the last three months, he’d found himself unable to really keep the conversation going.
Of course, the second - and more major - reason, would be that she’s not you.
But Jungkook would rather not think about that right now.
“Do you have any wine?” Jungkook’s date calls out. Breaking out of his daze, Jungkook’s eyes come back into focus as he trains his attention back onto her. Eyebrows slightly furrowed, he scrambles for her name. Jiha? Jihyo? Jihye! That’s it. Jihye looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer.
“Uh, maybe. I don’t know,” comes Jungkook’s distracted answer, “there may be some in the bottom cupboard on the left-hand side,” he continues nonchalantly - not really thinking about it. He thinks he remembers seeing an open bottle there, but again, he doesn’t drink wine all that often so he doesn’t really care. He watches Jihye rummage around in his kitchen, her short black dress riding further up the backs of her thighs - and Jungkook knows he should feel some sort of attraction towards her - she’s incredibly beautiful - not to mention her body’s practically perfect - and yet, he feels… nothing.
Why is he on a date with her again? Oh yes, because she frequented the same gym as he did and had asked him out randomly earlier in the week. Jungkook lets out a little sigh, his head falls back onto the back of the sofa. Staring up at the ceiling, his mind casts back to all the dates he’s had recently. Most of them approach him and he doesn’t really know why he keeps saying yes - but he has an inkling it’s to do with the fact that he’s still not over you. Though, that doesn’t really matter.
You’re long gone, and the last Jungkook had heard about you, was that you’d met someone else - someone willing to give you more than he could - someone willing to give you what you want. His heart constraints at the thought of you, but he shakes the thoughts out of his head. He needs to move on - it’s been long enough. Almost a year. Well, it’s been exactly seven months, twenty-three days and nine hours since you walked out on him, but who’s keeping count? Certainly not him.
“Oh! I found some. It’s already open - do you mind if I have some?” Jihye asks, and reflexively, Jungkook finds himself rolling his eyes. If he hadn’t wanted her to have some, he wouldn’t have told her where the wine was. Biting his tongue, however, Jungkook just lets out a non-committal hum. Once done pouring herself a glass of wine, Jihye returns to him while taking a sip of her wine. Suddenly, she stops, her face twisting in disgusting as she spits her wine back into her glass. Own features twisting in disgust, Jungkook regards her through guarded eyes, wondering what was going on.
“Gross! Why does this wine have pieces of cork in it? Also, I think it’s gone off - it tastes weird,” Jihye gripes as she takes her glass back into his kitchen. Barely paying attention to her words, Jungkook stares in unsettlement at the bottle. The dark green glass glints under the warm kitchen lights, his heart lurching as he recognises the bottle.
With unfocused eyes, he stares at the bottle, unmoving as his mind buzzes with what feels like static. Hazily, he registers that Jihye is speaking, but through the thick fog of his memories, Jungkook’s mind barely notices what she’s saying. Nonetheless, the exact moment Jihye begins tilting the bottle over the sink, attempting to flush its contents, Jungkook jumps to his feet.
“No! Don’t throw it out,” Jungkook’s voice thunders, his long legs carrying him into the kitchen swiftly. Jihye startles, looking at him in dumbfounded incredulity.
“What? Why? It’s got pieces of cork in it, and it tastes funny,” Jihye replies, turning back and beginning to pour the wine again. Abruptly, Jungkook snatches the bottle out of her hand, causing Jihye to jump.
“It’s not off, it just tastes like that. It’s bad wine,” Jungkook mutters as he puts the stopper back in the neck of the bottle.
“All the more reason to throw it out?” Jihye suggests, Jungkook’s jaw flexing at her words.
“I’m not throwing it out,” Jungkook replies, his voice hardened. Jihye cocks an eyebrow at him.
“Come on Jungkook, I think you should throw it out,” Jihye says coyly, a smile crawling onto her face. Imperceptibly, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. The flirtatiousness in her demeanour isn’t lost on him, nor is the fact that she likely thinks he’s joking. But Jungkook isn’t joking. He’s not throwing the wine out - whether it has pieces of cork in it, whether it tastes bad, or even if it had been off, he’s not throwing it out.
“No,” Jungkook says, his voice full of resolve. Jihye startles as she realises he’s not being playful. She raises her eyebrow once again, cocking her hip to the side.
“What’s so special about it? It’s just a bottle of wine,” Jihye points out. Of course, to anyone, it would be just a bottle of wine - but to him, it’s so much more.
It’s the last thing he has left of you.
When you’d broken up with him, ending your five-year relationship, you’d moved everything out of his apartment. The stupid cushions Jungkook hated - really, they only took up more space on the sofa, meaning he couldn’t lounge about properly - your hundred and one towels, even the sheets: the ones that had smelled like you. They’re all gone, along with all your clothes and belongings, leaving a half-empty apartment, and a hole in Jungkook’s heart. Every and any trace of you had slowly been removed from his flat and consequently his life. And now, he’s left with just this bottle of wine. - the one you’d forgotten about because it’d been hidden at the back of the cupboard.
“Jungkook? Are you listening to me? What’s so great about this bottle?” Jihye asks. Once again, however, Jungkook’s mind wanders to you. Unable to pull away from the bottle, Jihye fades from the world, her voice becoming distant and hazy as he recedes back into his memories.
Flashback - three years ago
A knock resounding at Jungkook’s door, he takes a deep breath. Looking at himself in the mirror one last time, he brushes the non-existent lint off his blazer. Then, running his fingers through his hair, he nods at himself and leaves his bedroom. Approaching the door, he swings it open, a large smile painted on his face as he spots you.
“Hello, beautiful,” Jungkook greets the moment he spots you. However, the moment he actually sees you, he finds himself stopping. Dressed in a flowing sundress, a dazzling smile on your face and bright, twinkling eyes - you look positively radiant. A loud whoosh of air escapes his nose, his eyes softening at you, “you look gorgeous,” he breathlessly says, his voice low.
Your smile brightening, you grin up at him, “Happy third anniversary!” you call out cheerily. Jungkook bites his lip, and unable to stop himself, swoops down and presses a kiss to your lips.
“Happy anniversary,” he mutters back, his lips brushing yours with every movement. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you chew on it while giving him a smile. Even three years into your relationship, Jungkook still managed to set butterflies aflutter in the pits of your stomach with the slightest touch.
Swiftly, you step into his apartment, easily navigating your way towards his kitchen as you place the bags of food and wine onto his counter. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” you ask curiously, peering at your boyfriend through the corner of your eyes.
However, Jungkook only steps up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Nope!” he happily replies, popping the ‘p’ sound, “you said you’d rather just have a quiet night in. Besides, we went out for the cruise-ship dinner thing last year,” Jungkook continues, humming in thought at the memory. A smile curls on your own lips and you twist in his arms, winding your own around his waist as you place your head on his chest.
“Mmm, that was a good anniversary. But if I remember correctly, someone ended up being seasick from drinking too much,” you say pointedly, tilting your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his sternum. Despite his cheeks flushing a rosy shade, Jungkook scowls.
“It’s not my fault… the alcohol was stronger than I thought it was,” he mumbles under his breath. You shake your head in fondness, but then, your lips curl into a slight frown. Every anniversary, Jungkook had taken you somewhere - your first, he’d taken you on a ski trip, your second, he’d taken you on a weekend break to Jeju island, and of course, your third had been a cruise-ship dinner. This year, however, you’d been recently promoted to the department head of your company, but that had meant additional stress and weight to an already heavy workload. As a result, you’d asked Jungkook if he was okay with just a quiet night in - because there was nothing you wanted more than to just spend some time with your loving boyfriend.
“Are you sure this is okay? If you want to go out or something, we still can,” you ask. However, Jungkook only shakes his head once again while pulling you closer into him.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Honestly. I just want to spend some time with you. Whether that’s here in my apartment, or in yours, or on an expensive date, or even in a garbage dump, it doesn’t matter. I just want to be with you,” Jungkook grins before smacking a sloppy kiss on your forehead. Face twisting in disgust, your earlier doubt about Jungkook being happy with your choice of date fades away, and you playfully smack him before pushing him away.
“Ew gross! You just slobbered all over me,” you gripe, rubbing the wet spot on your forehead.
Waggling his eyebrows, “and there’s more where that came from,” Jungkook playfully teases. A light snort escapes your lips as you shake your head before turning around.
“Yeah, whatever. I bought wine and steak for dinner. It’s not much but I don’t know, I felt like being classy,” you casually shrug while turning to the bag of groceries Jungkook hadn’t noticed. Head cocked to the side, he grimaces at the bottle of wine. Suddenly, you stop, your lips curling in a frown, “Although… in hindsight, I should have bought more food - knowing your bottomless stomach,” you sigh, looking at him from the corner of your eye.
“Yeah, you probably should have,” Jungkook deadpans. Lips twisting into a pout, your shoulders deflate at his words. Jungkook sees your disappointment, his heart dropping in his chest at the thought of upsetting you. He’d meant it as a joke - really, he had - but you’d clearly taken it seriously. Stepping up to you, Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist once again, his chin resting on your shoulder and hands clasps around your belly.
“I was only joking, sweetheart,” Jungkook says lowly, his face nuzzling into your hair while he presses a kiss to the outer shell of your ear. “Wine and steak sound good. Very classy,” he continues, pressing another kiss to your flesh - this time the column of your throat.
Instantly, your lips curl into a victorious smirk, “Okay, great!” you say, your shoulders immediately perking up. Jungkook blinks at your sudden change in demeanour, his nose scrunching when he realises what’s just happened.
“Hey! Did you do that on purpose?” he asks, his eyes narrowing into slits, his gaze full of accusation. Face twisting into a picture of innocence, you smile at him coyly - and if he didn’t know you as well as he did, he’d buy it - but Jungkook sees the sparkle of mischief in your eyes.
Before he can open his mouth, however, you’re already cutting him off, “Where’s your corkscrew?” you ask, rummaging through his drawers. Jungkook watches you search through the utensils, your lips curling downwards in concentration.
His own lips twisting, Jungkook approaches you, helping you look for the corkscrew. However, after a few moments, “Oh. I don’t think I have one,” Jungkook finally says. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, Jungkook wonders if he ever even bought one, but he doesn’t think he has.
“Kook! How are we supposed to drink this now?” you whine, a pout forming on your face again. Shrugging, Jungkook whips out his phone.
“I’m sure we can like, find another way,” Jungkook replies, already googling a way to open the wine bottle. Curiously, you peer over his shoulder, Jungkook’s arm instinctively wrapping around you as he scrolls with one hand. Head tilting upwards, you smile at your boyfriend, his features slightly scrunched in concentration. Unable to help yourself, you lean up and press a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. The moment your lips brush his skin, the corners of Jungkook’s lips twitch before he twists his head and presses a kiss to the temple of your head.
Arms wrapping around his waist, you lean your head on his bicep, “find anything yet?” you ask, Jungkook humming in response.
“We could use a blowtorch,” he replies casually.
“Do you have a blowtorch?”
“Fair enough. We could smack it against the wall using something to cushion it.”
“And risk breaking the bottle? No thanks.” Like that, Jungkook continues reading out suggestions: from pumping it out using a bicycle tire pump, all the way to slapping it out with a shoe, only for you to refute them. Eventually, however, with no other option, you and Jungkook eventually try using a screwdriver. Which brings you to now, almost fifteen minutes later.
“Oh my god, I think I’ve got it,” Jungkook yells in triumph. You’re currently sat on the kitchen island, your legs dangling as you watch your boyfriend struggle with the bottle. About five minutes after attempting to open the bottle, you’d conceded defeat. Your boyfriend, however, is much more competitive than you are, and he’d downright refused to let the bottle win. Thus, for the last ten minutes, you’d watched your boyfriend futilely dig, and twist, the screwdriver into the cork.
Quirking your eyebrow at your boyfriend, your eyes rove over him. He’s currently stood with a victorious grin, the apples of his cheeks bunched up around his eyes. He’s holding out the wine bottle, the metal head of the screwdriver stuck into the neck of the bottle. Hell, the cork isn’t even in one piece anymore - bits and pieces of it littered on the floor around him from where Jungkook had dug it out in an attempt to bury the screwdriver into the wood stopper.
“Have you now?” you drawl sarcastically. It certainly doesn’t look like he’s got it. For one, the cork is still in the bottle.
Sneering at your snide tone, “Watch this!” Jungkook calls out, and then, grabbing the handle of the tool, he pulls as hard as he can. A loud pop resounds through the air and you startle slightly, watching as Jungkook holds the screwdriver - with half the cork attached to it - in the air.
“Oh my god! You did it!” you call in surprise, jumping off the table and walking towards him.
Puffing out his chest, “and you didn’t believe in me! But I did it anyway,” Jungkook says proudly.
You roll your eyes before gesturing to the half-broken cork, “yeah barely.”
“Tomato, tomato. Potato, potato. The point is, I did it, and we can have wine now” Jungkook replies. With another roll of your eyes, you cross his kitchen and pull two wine glasses out of his cupboard.
“Yeah, yeah. My knight in shining suit. Now come on! I’ve literally been waiting twenty-five minutes to drink this,” you say, holding out the glasses towards him. Nodding, Jungkook pours the wine, filling the tumblers halfway before placing the bottle back on the island.
He takes the glasses from your hand, placing them on the dining table and you follow him, placing the plates of food onto the table. The two of you take seats opposite each other, Jungkook raising his glass towards you in a salute. For a few moments, the two of you tuck into your food, the muffled sounds of your joint chewing filling the air.
Then, “this steak is cold,” you grumble, a grimace settling on your face. In hindsight, after spending all that time trying to open the wine, the two of you should have heated your food - but in the triumph of actually opening the wine, you’d both forgotten.
“Yeah, and this wine is fucking gross,” Jungkook gripes, his own features twisting in disgust. Blinking owlishly, you reach for your own glass, sipping the burgundy liquid. The minute it washes over your tastebuds, you find yourself gagging. It’s sour - the acrid stench of it only burning your nasal cavity and intensifying the bitterness of the wine.
Forcibly, you swallow it down before spitting and sputtering into your hand, “yeah, and it’s got pieces of cork in it. Gross, what a waste of a hundred and fifty thousand won,” you scowl. Immediately, Jungkook baulks.
“A hundred and fifty thousand won? For that trash?” Jungkook yells in incredulity. You look at him in surprise, the two of you simply staring at each other. Then, all of a sudden, the two of you burst out laughing. Neither of you has any real reason for why you’re both laughing. Perhaps it was the ridiculous price of the incredibly poortasting wine, perhaps it was that Jungkook had spent a good fifteen minutes struggling with said wine or perhaps it was because even after all that struggle, neither of you could stomach the taste. Either way, the absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on either of you, and you both can’t help but laugh hysterically.
“Man, I can’t believe you spent that much money on that shit,” Jungkook giggles, wiping away at his tears.
Lower lip pulled between your teeth, you grin at Jungkook, “I can’t believe you spent so much time trying to open it,” you quip. Shaking your heads, you both resume eating your food, forgoing the wine.
Once the two of you are done, you help Jungkook clear the table. Jungkook watches you throw out the leftovers before placing the plates into the sink. The kitchen lights are dimmed low, the amber light reflecting off of your skin and silhouetting you in its glow. The bright walls off his kitchen only help to highlight your body, the hem of your dress swishing around your thighs with every movement. His darkened, lust-filled gaze rakes over you and he can’t help but swallow thickly when his eyes rest on the smooth curve of your ass.
Helpless against his desire for you, you feel Jungkook’s arms wrap around your body. Loosely, his hands rest on your hips, the pads of his fingertips gently digging into your flesh. “Do you wanna head to bed?” Jungkook asks, his voice breathy as he begins peppering kisses along the column of your neck. You raise your eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanour. Nevertheless, you’d be lying if you said his light, attentive touch wasn’t clouding your head in hazy lust.
“All of a sudden?” you ask, your tone light and teasing. Jungkook responds by digging his fingers harder into your hips, pulling them back so your ass is flush against his crotch.
“If I’m being honest, I’ve wanted to get you out of this dress as soon as I saw you in it. You look beautiful. I love you so much,” Jungkook rasps in response, lightly nipping at the sensitive flesh just below your earlobe. Twisting in his hold, you wind your hands around his neck, carding your fingers through his hair at the back of his nape before lightly playing with the locks.
“I love you too,” you breathe out, “take me to bed and I’ll show you how much,” you breathlessly whisper back. A shuddering exhale escaping his lips, Jungkook’s mouth descends onto yours. Instantly, the two of you lose yourselves into each other; the wine bottle long forgotten.
“Jungkook? Are you even paying attention to me?” Jihye suddenly calls out, her hands waving in front of his face. Blinking blankly, Jungkook’s vision comes back into focus. He looks around his apartment - it’s still the same as it was two years ago. The kitchen lights are still low, and his walls are bright, and that same bottle of wine sits on his marble counter - practically mocking him - but you’re not here. It’s not you standing in his kitchen.
“I- you need to leave,” Jungkook chokes out, his voice hoarse and his throat thick with emotion. Jihye looks at him in dumbfounded bewilderment. She opens her mouth to argue, but then stops, her words dying on her lips. Taking in Jungkook’s distant gaze, Jihye notices his attention is once again on the bottle. With a scoff, she rolls her eyes before snorting. Then, grabbing her purse, she stalks out of his apartment - but not before slamming the door.
Jungkook doesn’t care.
Instead, he stares at the dark bottle of wine. His reflection glints back at him, his distorted face mirroring the despair and sadness etched onto his face. Once again, he loses himself into his memories. Memories of when the two of you were still together, memories of you smiling at him, of you kissing him, memories of the two of you, when you were both happy - and together. But not anymore. Now, those memories that he’d once cherished - once taken for granted - are tainted: bruised and tarnished with the restless memories of you leaving; of you walking out of this very same apartment and leaving him all alone.
The warm memories that had once been his saving grace, now leave him cold, with a deep ache in his chest.
With one final glance at the bottle, Jungkook buries his head in his hands, and then lets out a heartwrenching sob.
In the comfort of your own home, you lie in your bed, staring up into nothingness. The bedroom is completely bathed in darkness, not even a single sliver of moonlight peeking in through the blackout-blinds you had installed. After your third anniversary with Jungkook, you’d moved in with him, and your ex-boyfriend had hated any and every inkling of light while he was trying to sleep. He simply couldn’t sleep unless he was in complete darkness. Of course, after two years of living with him, you’d also gotten used to it - and now, you aren’t able to sleep without complete darkness either.
Yet, you still aren’t able to sleep. There are many reasons for your lack of sleep. Many of them are to do with your ex-boyfriend. It’s been just over half a year since you and Jungkook broke up. Almost eight months now since you walked out of his life. Eight months since you reluctantly broke off your five-year relationships. But you had no choice. You and Jungkook had wanted different things in life and though heartbreaking, you knew it was best for the two of you to go your separate ways then and there.
Of course, knowing that didn’t make it any easier. Nor does it help qualm the crushing bitterness, nor the misery, you feel at Jungkook’s absence in your life.
Though, you figure, those feelings are a given. After all, the two of you had been together for five whole years. Five years is a long time to spend with someone - and for the entirety of those years, Jungkook had been your one and only - the man you had loved with your entire heart. The man you still love with all your heart. It’s not like you could just forget five years of love in a day - nor in eight months. Hell, you don’t think you could forget him, nor the love you feel for him, in your entire lifetime.
Thus, in the absolute dark of your bedroom, you stare up at the ceiling. Though, you don’t really see it. No, all you see is darkness. A low sigh escapes your lips and you shift on your bed, trying to find a comfortable position. But try as you might, you simply can’t find one. And it has every reason to do with the man occupying your bed - if you remove your residual feelings for Jungkook out of the picture. Tilting your head slightly, you turn to your side. Even in the darkness, you can make out the obscure outline of your current boyfriend’s - though you use that term loosely, because really, he’s a family friend you’ve known a while and your mother had set you up with - face as he snores lightly. With another sigh, you turn your head back to stare at the ceiling.
Other than thoughts of Jungkook, one of the main reasons you can’t sleep is: you’re on the wrong side of the bed. For as long as you’d been with Jungkook, even before you lived together, Jungkook had always slept on the left, and you’d slept on the right. It wasn’t like you’d purposely decided on that, it’s just how it had worked out. Jungkook always slept on the left, and you on the right - before the two of you had even met. And after you’d met? Well, it had just clicked - as if the two of you were made for each other.
But now, you’re on the left.
And Minhyuk is on the right.
And it’s not right. Nor does it feel right. In more than one sense of the word.
Shifting once again, you lowly groan when a sting of pain shoots through your lower abdomen, bringing you to another reason you can’t sleep. You’re on your period, and with your period, comes the cursed cramps. No matter how much you try, you simply can’t seem to find a comfortable position to lie in. That, paired with the fact that you’re on the wrong side of the bed, and the plaguing thoughts of Jungkook, has insomnia gripping at your head. Momentarily, you’d considered getting up and heating up a hot water bottle to soothe your pain, but you simply can’t find it in yourself to get out of bed - not when moving only seemed to fuel the fire in the pits of your uterus.
Once again, you turn to Minhyuk. Briefly, you consider waking him up and asking him to bring you the hot water bottle, and you even open your mouth to call him. But then, you pause, the words dying on your lips as your throat constricts. This scene is almost too familiar to you, and in the dark of your bedroom, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the past.
Flashback - two years ago
Shifting uncomfortably, you’re woken from your sleep by the searing pain in your lower abdomen. Through the haze of your sleep, you let out quiet whimpers and continue shuffling in bed, trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep in. However, try as you might, you simply can’t seem to find one. This time, when you shift again, you feel Jungkook’s arm lazily wrap around you.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jungkook asks while shuffling closer towards him. His words cause you to still, your shoulders relaxing as you feel his warm presence surround you. Your boyfriend moves his head to just over your shoulder, his hand sluggishly rubbing circles over your stomach. He nudges your t-shirt to the side - really, it’s his - and presses a tender kiss to the skin of your shoulder that he’s just exposed. Before you can even say anything, or alert him to exactly what is wrong, “do you have bad cramps again?” he sighs out. Despite your pain, you find your face softening, a soft smile curling on your lips at the sleepy tone of his voice.
“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t wanna wake you up,” you reply lowly. Jungkook only shakes his head, his long hair tickling the flesh of your collarbone.
“Tis okay,” Jungkook slurs sleepily. Then, before you can tell him to go back to sleep, Jungkook is already crawling out of bed. You hear a loud thud, followed by a pained groan, “I’m okay. I just- didn’t see the end of the bed,” Jungkook mumbles through the haziness of his sleep. Instantly, his words cause concern to well up in your chest, however, before you can ask him if he’s okay, he’s leaving your bedroom.
Left alone, you flick the lamp on your bedside table on and sit up in bed with a wince. You take in short, deep breath, trying your best to soothe the vengeful cramps in the pit of your stomach. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think your uterus was tying itself into knots. Another sharp sting and you let out a low whimper, doubling over in pain as you clutch your stomach.
Moments later, you feel a hand soothingly rub your lower back as your boyfriend - now more awake - crouches down beside your side of the bed. Large, doe eyes stare at you in concern as he passes you your hot water bottle. “Here you go, baby,” Jungkook says softly, placing the fuzzy bottle on your lower stomach. The warm heat instantly soothes your cramps, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you feel the pain begin to subside.
“Thank you,” you rasp out, but Jungkook only shakes his head. Then, he thrusts his hand and a glass in front of your face.
When you quirk your eyebrow at him, “painkillers,” Jungkook merely responds. Your face crumples, your heart speeding up in your chest. Gratefully, you accept the pills from him, popping them in your mouth before chugging down the glass of water. When you’re done, Jungkook takes the glass from your hand and places it back onto your bedside table. Once done, he helps you shift back down into a laying position as he tucks you into bed. Then, he crawls under the sheets himself.
You feel the left side of the bed shift before Jungkook slides in. Rolling closer to you, he presses his chest against your back while throwing an arm to rest loosely over your waist. Lazily, he rubs his hand over your hips, soothingly massaging the skin while pressing tender kisses to the back of your shoulder. “Are you feeling better?” Jungkook mumbles. His voice is low, heavy with sleep, and you can’t help but shudder as it reverberates through your eardrum.
“Mmm. Much better. Thank you,” you whisper back, more than grateful at his thoughtful gestures. If there was one thing you absolutely adored about Jungkook, it would be his utter thoughtfulness. More often than not, you just wouldn’t need to tell him what was wrong; after almost four years together, he could simply read you like a book. He knew what you wanted and when you wanted it. He knew when to leave you alone, or when to help you. He could read your moods as if he was well versed in all things that surrounded you. More than anything, however, Jungkook was simply empathetic towards you - and it made you fall for him all the more.
“I love you,” you whisper, the words easily falling from your lips. You feel Jungkook’s lips curl against your shoulder, an indolent smile playing at his lips.
Without even a moment of hesitation, “I love you too,” he mumbles back. Then, the two of you fall back into silence: with you clutching the hot water bottle to your uterus, and Jungkook genially rubbing circles into the flesh of your hips.
Another sharp pain ricochets through your uterus, pulling you out of your reverie. A low whimper escapes your throat and you shift in bed again. However, unlike Jungkook, Minhyuk stays fast asleep. Once again, you contemplate waking him up and you don’t want to, but the pain is almost too much. Before you can stop yourself, “Minhyuk?” you whimper out while gently shaking him.
Minhyuk lets out a groggy groan before, “what’s wrong, ____?” he asks, his voice heavily laden with sleep.
“C-can you go into the kitchen and get me my hot water bottle, please? I’ve got really bad cramps,” you whisper hoarsely. Minhyuk only groans in response.
“____… I’ve got to wake up for work in three hours. Can you not get it yourself?” Minhyuk asks sleepily. There’s no malice in his tone, nor upset or anger, just drowsy question - and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it - but still, you can’t help the way your stomach drops at his words. Biting your lip, you suck in a sharp breath, the movement making you whimper in pain again. Clearly, Minhyuk hears the sound escape your lips, because he’s sliding out of bed - albeit begrudgingly - and leaving your bedroom.
Five minutes later, he walks back and passes you the hot water bottle. With a small voice, you thank him, Minhyuk grunting in response. The right side of the mattress tilts and you feel Minhyuk slide back into bed. “Goodnight,” Minhyuk mumbles, though you can tell he’s already falling asleep again. Briefly, he pecks your cheek before turning his back towards you. Short moments later, his light snores fill the quiet air of the night, leaving you alone once again.
Chewing your lip, you place the hot water bottle onto your stomach, allowing the warm, soothing sensation to assuage the pain of your cramps. Your mind casts back to Jungkook, and the way he took care of you on nights like this, and then you turn to Minhyuk once again. You can still feel his lips on your cheek - from where he’d kissed you - but it’s not the same. Minhyuk is nice, and though reluctantly, he still got out of bed to get you your water bottle.
But it’s not the same.
It’s not the same when he kisses you on the cheek, or brings you your water bottle. It’s not the same when he buys you flowers, or takes you out to dinner. It’s not the same when he kisses you, or when you sleep together. It’s not the same, because while nice, all of his gestures are empty. There’s no love in them, no thoughtfulness, no passion. Minhyuk is nice - and he does things out of nicety - but he also does them out of obligation.
And it’s not the same.
Because there is no love in them.
Because he’s not Jungkook.
Because he won’t ever be.
A month and a half later, you find yourself nervously staring at the brass-gold number plates of your brother’s apartment. You haven’t seen Hoseok in a few months - well, nine months to be exact. Nine months on this day. Wow. It’s really been nine months since you broke up with Jungkook, huh? It definitely feels like it’s been longer. If anything, it feels like an eternity. Though, you suppose, it must, since you’d gone from spending almost every day with him to suddenly not seeing him. It had been hard, and multiple times, you’ve wondered if you should just go back - but you know you can’t. You’d broken up for reasons - serious reasons - reasons that had meant a lot to you.
All these months, you’ve tried avoiding him as best as you could. Anything and everything that was within your power, you had done: from avoiding all of your friends because they reminded you too much of him, to moving to a different part of the city just to avoid running into him by chance. It had been hard, and god had it hurt - stillhurts - but you knew you had to do it. But now, standing in front of your brother’s apartment, you know you can no longer run from him anymore. Today is Hoseok’s birthday - and you know he’d be heartbroken if you didn’t turn up.
But you also know Jungkook will be here - because there’s no way Hoseok hadn’t invited him.
Funnily enough, you’d met Jungkook because of Hoseok. The two of them had met at the swimming club in your university, and the two had gotten along well. At first, you’d been fearful of admitting to Hoseok that you were seeing Jungkook - but to your utter surprise, your older brother just hadn’t cared. He liked Jungkook and he trusted Jungkook to treat you right - and he had. For five years, Jungkook had been the best, sweetest, most perfect boyfriend anyone could have asked for. Until that day. That fateful day, nine months ago, when you’d walked out of his apartment - and consequently his life.
“____? You okay?” Minhyuk asks, waving his hand in front of your space. Pulled out of your thoughts, you stare at your boyfriend - though once again, you use the term loosely. Minhyuk stares at you in confusion before gesturing to the door. The very same door you’d been blankly staring at while reminiscing about your brother and boyfriend. Looking at Minhyuk, you can’t help the way your stomach tosses at the sight of him.
Momentarily, you wonder what Hoseok would say. Hoseok absolutely adored Jungkook - to the point where you’d find your brother cuddling with your boyfriend, or kissing his forehead. You shudder just thinking about it. That had been a funny day. One day, you’d decided to surprise your boyfriend by spontaneously turning up at his apartment. However, to your utter surprise, you’d turned up just to see your boyfriend and your brother snuggling while watching Netflix. Sure, it was a cute sight, and ordinarily, you would have been touched. If it weren’t for the fact that your brother was cuddling your boyfriend.
So yes, suffice to say the least, Hoseok absolutely loved Jungkook - and throughout your entire relationship, he’d completely rooted and supported the two of you. Even when you and Jungkook would fight, even when you’d drive each other crazy, Hoseok would speak to the both of you and calm you down and make you see reason. Reason being that you both loved each other. Which is why, dread settles in your stomach as you stare blankly at Minhyuk. Once again, you wonder what Hoseok would say. You know he knows that you’re seeing Minhyuk - your mother has to have told him.
But knowing and seeing are two different things and you have no idea how he’ll react to Minhyuk. You love your brother, you really, really do - but Hoseok has a bad habit of not being able to bite his tongue - and that paired with the fact that he absolutely loved Jungkook - and still does - has trepidation settling deep within your stomach. It doesn’t help that it’s so soon after you and Jungkook broke up either. Nor does it help that Hoseok already knows Minhyuk - he is the son of your mother’s friend after all. But you’re twenty-seven now and you’re not getting any younger and you have to move on with your life. Whether that be with Jungkook or not. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely distraught that it turned out to be without your sweet boyfriend. Or well, ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself.
Once again, Minhyuk looks at you expectantly. Drawing in every ounce of courage you can muster, you take in a deep breath and then knock on your brother’s door. You don’t know how long it takes Hoseok to answer. Realistically, you know it’s only mere moments - but that doesn’t stop it feeling like an excruciating eternity.
The moment Hoseok’s door swings open, you’re met with the sight of your brother. Smiling shyly at him, you awkwardly wave, “Hey Hobi,” you greet. However, Hoseok isn’t looking at you. No, he’s looking at the taller man stood next to you. Shuffling from foot to foot, your gaze flits back and forth from your brother to Minhyuk. Minhyuk for the most of it, looks a little lost and unsure of himself or what to say. Oppositely, your brother simply stares at Minhyuk, looking him up and down, his face a picture of passiveness and his usually warm gaze completely guarded.
“H-Hobi?” you choke out, clearing your throat as you try to get your brother’s attention. Hoseok blinks for a minute and then turns to you.
Momentarily, he regards you with his passive gaze before his lips quirk, and then suddenly, he’s beaming and pulling you into a hug. “____! I’ve missed you!” you brother practically screams, and despite the slight wince as he almost bursts your eardrums, you find yourself letting out a breath of air you hadn’t even known you’d been holding. The minute your brother envelops you in his arms, you feel yourself getting choked up - you’d missed his warmth. You’d desperately craved his affection when you’d broken up with Jungkook, but you had no idea what to say to him - or even how to approach him.
“Come on in. It’s a pretty quiet thing. There’s booze and snacks in the kitchen just help yourself to it, music’s mainly in the living room if you just wanna chill but if you need somewhere more quiet, the balcony or spare bedroom are available. ____ will tell you where to hang up your coats,” Hoseok says, smiling at Minhyuk. You bite your lip at Hoseok’s tone - it may not be obvious to others, but you know your brother like the back of your hand, and you can see the stiffness in his smile, and the chilled politeness in his tone. “Let’s catch up later on, yeah?” Hoseok says, turning back to you. Stiffly, you nod at him, already knowing he wants to talk about Jungkook.
Both you and Minhyuk enter Hoseok’s apartment and you can’t help the dismay that streaks through you. Hoseok wasn’t kidding when he said it’s a pretty quiet affair. About twenty people are milling about, the low thrumming bass of Hoseok’s music vibrating through the air. It’s loud enough to be heard throughout the apartment; not enough to cause the neighbours to complain, but more than enough to not really be able to have a decent conversation with someone.
Scattered about the crowd are a few people you recognise - Namjoon: Hoseok’s best friend from high school, and of course, Seokjin and Yoongi - his other best friends from college. Momentarily, you spot Jimin and you find yourself reeling at the familiar face. He’d been Hoseok’s friend from dance school when your brother was still in middle school. Your eyes continue scanning over the crowd before you find yourself stopping.
A rush of heat courses through your veins, the rushing of blood resounding through your eardrums when you spot Kim Taehyung - Hoseok and Jungkook’s other friend from swim team. But it’s not Taehyung that has you stopping. No, it’s who he’s speaking to.
Jungkook.
Knees buckling at the mere sight of him, your face crumples with the weight of your emotions. It’s only been nine months, and yet he looks so different from the last day you’d seen him. His hair is much longer now - so long that it falls into his eyes and you watch how he flicks the soft strands of hair out of his face. The motion of his hair practically mesmerises you and you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him. With his smooth caramel skin, soft features and gently sloping lips, he has your heart constricting between your ribcage.
Then you spot it. The black leather jacket. The same one you’d gotten him as a birthday gift four years ago. It’s still preserved beautifully, not a single piece out of place. The leather still shines like it’s brand new, and it still sits on his body as well as it did the first time you gifted it to him. Taehyung says something and Jungkook laughs in response, and the moment that he does, you let out an inaudible gasp. His head falls back, his features twisting into an expression of pure joy while his bunny-esque teeth are put on display. He looks happy - carefree - and you can’t help the sting of nostalgia that spikes through you. The music is loud, and you can barely hear anything. But somehow, his laugh resounds in your ear: ingrained in the memory of your eardrums as it plays like a record, over and over, while you watch him.
“You wanna get a drink?” Minhyuk asks. Instantly, your world comes crashing around you, and you turn to your current paramour. Blinking owlishly, you stare at him in confusion. He’s awfully close to you - a mere hair’s breadth away from you and instinctively, you find yourself backing away. Minhyuk looks at you oddly, and with a sheepish look, you nod to him. You’d gladly accept something to drink - you know you’ll need it if you wanted to survive the night.
An hour later, you find yourself standing over the Seoul city skyline. Leant up against the glass railing of Hoseok’s balcony, you simply stare at the sunset painted across Seoul. The large skyscraper buildings obscure most of it, the artificial bright lights dimming the dusky colours of twilight - but you don’t mind so much. Even obscured by the towering modern glass buildings, the dark shades of amaranth, copper and violet vividly paint the sky enough for you to take it all in.
“You okay out here?” comes a soft voice but you don’t need to turn around to see who it is. You could recognise your brother’s voice in a heartbeat.
Humming non-committally, “fine. I just... needed some space, I guess,” you mumble out with a sigh. If you’re being completely honest, you wanted space from Minhyuk. The minute he noticed your gaze on Jungkook, something in him changed - he’d become a tad overbearing, not to mention that he hasn’t left you alone all night. His sudden attachment wouldn’t have been a problem - if it weren’t the fact that you’d been maudlin about seeing Jungkook again. Thus, while he was busy entertaining a small crowd of Hoseok’s friends, you’d slipped out from under his nose and isolated yourself onto the balcony.
A loud chorus of laughs rolls across the quiet balcony and you let out another sigh. Hoseok leans against the railing next to you as he faces his apartment. “Minhyuk seems to be doing well,” comes Hoseok’s casual voice.
Another sigh, “please don’t,” you whisper. You already know where Hoseok’s going with this. Turning his back to his apartment, Hoseok joins you in basking under the quickly setting sun.
“What happened? You never told me, and Jungkook… well, Jungkook refuses to talk about it. To talk about you,” Hoseok sighs. Through your peripheral vision, you note the almost defeated look in Hoseok’s eyes. Heart clenching at his words, you grip your beer can tighter while staring dully into the distance. You don’t blame Jungkook for not talking about you - you haven’t spoken about him either. Sure, you think about him. Every. Single. Day. But thinking about him and speaking about him are two different things - the latter of which is far too painful.
When you don’t respond to his question, Hoseok simply sighs. “Okay fine, we don’t have to talk about that. But-” he begins.
Before he can continue, however, you turn and look at him, “Hobi, can we just not speak about this?” you ask quietly. Your brother looks at you pointedly, his eyes scrutinising you. With your slumped shoulders and the desperation in your eyes, Hoseok finds his eyes softening. Instantly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing your head to his chest. Automatically, you own arms wrap around him and you bask in your brother’s comforting embrace.
“You still love him,” Hoseok breathes out. There’s not a single hint of accusation in his tone, just plain understanding. More than that, it’s not a question; it’s a statement. One that has your fists curling tighter into his shirt, your shoulders tensing. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t say anything else. Rather, he just holds you, letting you seek as much solace as you need from his hold. Frozen in his hug, you breathe deeply as you try to hold yourself together.
Eventually, you find the strength to pull away. Hoseok looks at you with gentle eyes. “Are you happy, at least? With Minhyuk?” Hoseok asks. Opening your mouth, you move to reply, but find yourself stopping. Eyebrows furrowed, your face contorts marginally as you consider Hoseok’s question. Are you happy? Honestly? You have no idea. You haven’t felt any real happiness since you walked out on Jungkook - but you’d chalked it up to the fact that you were still getting over him.
Hesitancy evident in every fibre of your being, Hoseok looks at you pointedly. “Alright. You don’t have to reply because I already know the answer to that,” Hoseok sighs. He pauses for a moment, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Yet, he continues anyway, “I know mom pushed you towards Minhyuk,” Hoseok begins, causing your eyes to widen. You open your mouth to reply, however, he cuts you off once again, “But I trust you to do the right thing. Not for anyone, but for yourself. You’re strong, ____, but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want,” Hoseok finishes. Before you can reply to him, however, you hear the balcony doors sliding open.
The two of you turn around to the newcomer, your heart fluttering when you see Jungkook. “Oh. Sorry, I’ll leave,” Jungkook quickly says, already turning around. Abruptly, however, Hoseok walks up to Jungkook before clapping him on the back.
“Nah it’s okay. I was just heading inside. You can keep ____ company if you want,” Hoseok says brightly. Internally, you despair at your brother’s words. What the fuck was he thinking? Nonetheless, before either of you can say anything, Hoseok disappears back into his apartment, consequently leaving you and Jungkook alone.
Jungkook turns to you nervously, and you can practically feel the hesitancy exuding off of him in thick waves. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you send him an awkward smile before gesturing for him to join you. Jungkook looks at you in a mix of worry and trepidation, but ultimately, takes Hoseok’s space beside you. The two of you stand in silence, facing the Seoul city skyline as you stare at nothing. Frazzled by his presence, you internally grasp for something to say, anything to break the thick awkward tension that surrounds the two of you.
Then, all of a sudden: “How have you been?”, “So, what’s up?”, you and Jungkook ask at the same time. You stare at each other in surprise for a couple of moments. Then, all of a sudden, you both burst out laughing.
“God, this is so weird,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair. Biting your lip, you nod in agreement before turning back to look at the cityscape.
With the tension broken, “so, how have you been?” you find yourself asking. From the corner of your eye, you notice Jungkook shrug listlessly.
“I’ve been… okay, I guess. How about you?”
“Fine. Alright. I guess,” you reply, mirroring his previous sentiment. They’re simple niceties - and you both know there’s a hint of deception in both your words - but neither of you says anything about it. Once again, the two of you fall into silence. Though, this time, the atmosphere isn’t thick with floundering awkwardness. Rather, it’s thick with confusion and uncertainty. Where do you go from here? What do you even say to your ex-boyfriend - one you still have feelings for?
Deciding to take a chance, “how’s work? I saw that your company released a new game,” you finally say. Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, his eyebrow rising at your question.
“You keep up to date with my company?” he asks. The incredulity in his voice surprises you and you look at him pointedly.
“Of course I do. That company means a big deal to you,” you reply easily. Despite the situation, Jungkook finds himself chuckling, even as his heart constraints at the thought of you checking up on him - even if it’s from afar.
“Yeah. It’s doing really well. Made me a lot of money. How about you? Dohyun from your department still being an ass because you’re the one who got promoted or?” Jungkook questions casually, causing you to laugh.
“Ah, man. Gotta love Dohyun. No, yeah. He’s still being an ass - but at least he doesn’t openly question my authority anymore,” you reply with an easy smile. Then, “actually, I have you to thank for that,” you softly say.
Jungkook looks at you in surprise, “me?”
Nodding, “yeah. I took your advice and threatened to fire him if he ever publicly undermined me again. That shut him up pretty quickly,” you chuckle. Jungkook snorts, the two of you laughing.
“Good! He deserves it. I know he has a problem working under a woman, but man, you deserved that promotion. You were far better qualified than him,” Jungkook compliments. Ducking shyly, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears before smiling gently at him.
“Thanks. It means a lot,” you mumble under your breath, making Jungkook shake his head.
“No. ____, I’m serious. No one deserved it more than you. You worked so hard for it. There were days I was even worried about the stress you were under because you’d forget to eat, or you wouldn’t sleep. But I guess it was worth it in the end, because you got the promotion,” Jungkook responds. Then, he pauses, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips, “even if it meant there were days you’d ignore me,” Jungkook sighs dramatically. That causes you to snort, and before you can stop yourself, you playfully smack his arm.
“Hey! I gave you lots of attention. Or did you forget that time when I skipped work just so we could play hooky and go snowboarding?” you ask. Jungkook bites his lips, a tinkling giggle escaping his lips at the memory.
“Oh, that was good. You were terrible, and you fell so much I was worried you’d break something,” Jungkook reminisces, a soft sigh following his words.
Giggling to yourself, “Yeah, well we can’t all just pick up a sport and instinctively be good at them,” you snort in response.
“You’re right. Really, it’s a curse being perfect at everything,” Jungkook nods sagely in agreement. Jaw dropping, you look at him in amazement before the two of you burst out laughing.
Suddenly, a new voice breaks “What’s going on here?”
Turning around, you freeze at the sight of Minhyuk. Alternating between looking at you and Jungkook, Minhyuk’s face is a picture of passiveness, his lips set in a thin, grim line. At the sight of Minhyuk, you sense Jungkook deflate, the easy atmosphere once again thickening with tension.
“Minhyuk… this is-” you begin, ready to introduce the two. However, Minhyuk snorts.
“Yes. This is Jungkook, your ex-boyfriend. I know. Which begs the question, why are you alone out here with your ex while I’m inside?” Minhyuk asks. You reel at the accusatory tone in his voice as you double-take.
“Excuse me? We’re just out here speaking,” you exclaim and once again, Minhyuk snorts.
“It looked a little more than that,” he points out. Jaw dropping in bewilderment, you scoff at him, your eyes narrowing into thin slits.
“Uh, I think I should leave the two of you alone,” Jungkook says quietly as he begins making his way towards the balcony door.
Seeing him walk away breaks your heart, and you want to tell him to stay. Nevertheless, you know you have no right to. Not now anyway, when you have bigger problems at hand. Bigger problems namely being Minhyuk. “What’s your problem?” you ask, directing your attention to your boyfriend.
“My problem is that despite the fact that you’re going to be marrying me, you’re out here with the ex that you were seeing for five years. How do you think that makes me look?” Minhyuk argues back. At Minhyuk’s words, Jungkook finds his blood freezing as he’s brought to an abrupt halt - just before he can escape the balcony. You, yourself, are at a loss of something to say.
“We’ve barely been seeing each other for two months! Why are you bringing that up now?” you cry in astonishment. Really, where had the come from?
“But isn’t that why our mother’s set us up? Because we’re both looking to get married? Isn’t that where this is supposed to be going? Yet, here you are. With your ex-boyfriend. Who you’ve paid more attention to than me this entire night, by the way,” Minhyuk points out. Spluttering at his words, your cheeks heat as you know you’ve been caught. The hairs on your arms stand erect, and immediately, you know that Jungkook is staring at you - but you refuse to look at him. You don’t want to see the expression on his face right now.
Instead, you decide to keep your attention directly on Minhyuk, “yes, this is where it’s supposed to be going, but-” you reply, only for Minhyuk to cut you off once again.
“But nothing. I like you, a lot. And I know we’ve only known each other two months, but I can see us having a life together. Is that not what you want? Isn’t that the reason we’re together in the first place? Do you not want to marry me? Say you’ll marry me and I’ll drop this right now,” Minhyuk finally says, his previous anger and insecurity at seeing you and Jungkook together dissipating. He levels you with his sincere gaze, the unanswered ultimatum heavy in the air.
Unable to help yourself any longer, you momentarily shift your gaze to Jungkook. It’s brief - barely a second - but it’s all you need. The utter look of despair is clearly evident on his face, a mixture of heartbreak and anguish painted so very clearly across his features. It reminds you of the day you’d broken up with him; reminds you of how he’d looked when you’d walked out on him.
Flashback - nine months ago
One lazy Sunday, you find yourself in the apartment you share with your boyfriend. The two of you are sprawled on the couch, barely dressed: Jungkook with only his boxers and socks, and you in his large t-shirt and panties. You’d both considered getting dressed, but had decided against it - especially since neither of you had any plans to leave the house. Hence, you find yourself pressed against Jungkook, your back comfortably flush against his strong chest, your head easily finding the perfect resting spot in the crook where his collarbone meets his neck.
Absentmindedly, Jungkook plays with the hem of your underwear, fiddling with elasticated lace as you scroll through Netflix. The film titles pass in a blur as you look for something to watch. Catching the attention of one title, you can't help but fixate on it for a bit. "Kook?" you call out to your boyfriend softly. You angle your head to look up at him while shifting your head onto his shoulder, so you can see him clearly. Jungkook hums non-committally as he glances at you from the corner of his eyes.
"What's up, sweetheart? Wait- if this is just to ask me if we can watch Zootropolis again, you know my answer is always yes," Jungkook says, his eyes twinkling in excitement. A light giggle escapes your lips but you shake your head.
"No. I just- we've been together five years now, yes?" you ask, turning your head back to stare at the TV. Jungkook's eyebrows furrow slightly, and he moves his head so he can better look at you.
"Yes? What about it?"
"Well-" you begin. Briefly you pause, worrying your lower lip, "do you think we'll get married?" you breathe out. Jungkook stills, the hand that had been mindlessly playing with the lace material of your underwear coming to a halt.
"What?" he asks, his chest rumbling under you.
"Well, have you thought about us getting married? Like, we've been together a while now, but I don't think we've ever really spoken about it," you sigh out. Ideally, you wanted to marry Jungkook - because, after five years, you're sure he's the one for you.
"Honestly?" Jungkook asks. Anxiousness pools in the pits of your stomach as you hear the slight trepidation in his voice. It's barely there - but you know Jungkook well enough to spot the tell-tale sign of his worriment.
"Honestly," you reiterate his statement, letting him know you want nothing but the truth.
Jungkook sighs, "honestly, I've never really thought about it," he breathes out. Immediately, you jerk, sitting up as you twist to look at him. Shifting so you're in a more comfortable position, you sit on his stomach, your thighs straddling his waist. Instinctively, Jungkook's hands fall onto your thighs. You look at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief, Jungkook returning his own expectant gaze.
"You've never thought about us getting married?" you sputter out, completely baffled by his words. How has he not thought about it? You've been together five years now. That's an awfully long time - surely, he's thought about it at some point. Not to mention, you're both twenty-seven now, almost thirty. So how has he not thought about it? You know you have. In fact, you dream about the day you walk down the aisle, Jungkook on the other side. Hell, you dream about a life with him; a family - because you know he's all you want.
"Sweetheart-" Jungkook starts, and you look pointedly at him, "listen- it's nothing to do with you. It's just, we're still young. I do love you, you know that, but I just never really thought about it," he continues. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you cock your head in question.
"Never?" you enquire. Jungkook simply shrugging.
"Not really," comes his simple reply.
“How?” you question, looking at him in confusion. Distinctly, you remember having light conversations with Jungkook. Conversations where you’d joke about being married, conversations about your wedding or your future together.
“What do you mean how?” Jungkook asks dumbly, causing you to frown.
“I mean- I know we’ve joked about it before. I’ve mentioned wanting to get married before, I know I have,” you point out.
“Yeah… but I thought you were joking and other than that, I’ve never seriously thought about it,” Jungkook says casually. You suck in a sharp breath at his words. He hadn’t ever seriously considered it? Fear settles in your stomach at his words. You’d always just assumed you and Jungkook would eventually get married - but he hadn’t ever seriously thought about it?
"Well... do you want to get married?" you ask plainly. Jungkook smirks at you, the corners of his lips twisting into a teasing, lop-sided smile.
"Are you asking?" he jokes. However, you're in no mood to play games. This is important to you - because your boyfriend of five years just admitted that he hadn't ever considered a future with the two of you together.
"Jungkook, I'm being serious," you say - your voice is soft, yet firm. Sensing the seriousness to your tone, the smile on Jungkook's face falls and he sits up. His movement displaces you from his stomach, and you find yourself moving to sit on the couch while looking at him expressionlessly.
"____, I don't know. As I said, I've never really thought about it," Jungkook reiterates.
"Well think about it now! Do you want to get married or no?" you ask, anxiousness bubbling in your veins. This conversation certainly hasn't gone the way you had expected it to. When you'd first asked Jungkook, it had just been an off-handed question, because really, why wouldn't he have thought about getting married. Now? You're not so sure.
"I- I don't know," Jungkook mutters. Face falling in despair, you get up off of the couch and walk into your bedroom. What did he mean he didn't know? Five years. You've been together five years, and he still doesn't know? Without a second thought, Jungkook follows you into your bedroom, watching in confusion as you begin getting dressed.
"Sweetheart? Are you mad at me?" he asks, causing you to snort derisively.
"Are you really asking me that right now?" you snap in response. Jungkook reels back at the irritation in your voice.
"Why? Because I said I don't know if I want to get married? Why is that a problem? I still love you- you know that," your boyfriend argues.
"The problem isn't that you love me Jungkook. It's that you just admitted you haven't thought about our future together," you cry back. Sensing your upset, Jungkook quickly walks up to you. He places his hands on your arms, gently rubbing up and down as he cooes gently at you.
"Baby, that's not what I meant. It's just, we're still young you know? And it's not like we have to get married to each other to prove anything. I love you, and you love me, isn't that enough?" Jungkook asks softly, trying his best to placate you. Tears forming in your eyes, you shake your head and push his hands away.
"But I want to get married Jungkook. But you don't even know if you want to get married," you reply back, your bottom lip quivering. You take in a deep breath in an attempt to hold yourself together.
"But I could... maybe," Jungkook replies. Though, you both hear the clear uncertainty in his voice. His words, paired with his tone, only has your heart breaking.
"Do you? It doesn't have to be now, but do you see us getting married? A simple yes or no. That's all I'm asking for," you breathe out.
Through tear-filled eyes, you watch your boyfriend contemplate your question. One minute passes. Then two. But he's no closer to giving you your answer. With every second that passes, your anguish grows into grief-stricken distress. Multiple times, Jungkook opens and closes his mouth, and each time, hope blooms in your chest, only to die when he closes his mouth. Long, excruciating moments pass, and you all but abandon hope, when finally he says something.
"I don't know," Jungkook replies. The very moment his words ring in your ears, that small inkling of hope within your chest in crushes. A sob escapes your lips and you feel your knees buckle. Distress painted on Jungkook's face, he reaches out to comfort you, but you back away from him, causing your boyfriend to flinch.
"Will you ever know?" you whisper hopelessly.
"I don't know," comes Jungkook's answer once again.
"Then I don't know if I can do this," you whisper back. Jungkook's head snaps up to you, his eyes wide as he looks at you in disbelief.
"What? What do you mean?" he chokes out, barely able to get the words out. Throat constricting, you swallow thickly as you choke back a sob.
"I don't know if I can still do this. Jungkook, I want to get married. I want to marry you. I dream about walking down the aisle to you, I dream about children - our children. I dream about a life with you. But you-" you stop as your voice cracks with emotion. Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself together once again, "but you don't know if you even want to get married and that... that just tells me you haven't thought about our future together," you finally manage to say, your voice strained.
"We're still young. We have so much time to think about that," Jungkook argues, causing you to shake your head.
"We're twenty-seven Jungkook. We've been together for five years. That's a long time, so why haven't you ever considered us getting married? Not even moments ago you admitted that you've never thought about it. How do you think that makes me feel?" you cry.
"I don't know! It wasn't on my mind. I think about you but I- I just don't know if I want to get married. Why is that a big deal?" Jungkook asks, even as anguish colours his veins at the sight of your heartbreak.
"It's a big deal to me! It's a big deal because like I said, that's what I want!" you practically yell. Taking another deep breath, you sniffle, "I don't think I can do this," you repeat once again. Again, your voice cracks, but Jungkook despairs at the resolution in it.
"What are you saying?" he chokes out, not wanting to believe it. You can't mean it. You can't be saying what he thinks you're saying.
"I'm saying- I'm saying we should break up," you finally say. You practically have to force the words out of your mouth - because, despite everything, every fibre of your being is still in love with Jungkook - still wants to be with Jungkook. But this isn't something you think you can compromise on.
"No," Jungkook blurts out. "N-no. Please, no," he practically begs. Once again he steps up to you, and once again, you step away from him - desperately needing the distance between you. "W-why? Why can't we wait until I know? Please, why can't we wait until I'm ready?" Jungkook pleads. Sucking in a deep breath, you shake your head as you look away. You want to. You desperately want to take his word for it, want to fall into his arms and forget this conversation. But you just can't.
"I c-can't," you express, "because what if we continue for another two, or three or five years, only for you to tell me you still don't want to get married? I don't want to start all over again in my thirties, Jungkook. I don't want to be in love with your a few more years, only for you to eventually decide you still don't want to get married," you reply softly.
"But we don't know if that'll happen!" Jungkook tries arguing and this time, you turn to him. Jungkook freezes at your face, the resolute sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. His heart constricts in his chest as he sees unwavering stubbornness, mixed with heartache and sorrow, in your eyes.
"Exactly Jungkook. We don't know. If you don't know now, after five years of being together, I don't know if you'll know in another few years. And I can't take that chance," you finally utter.
"____, please don't do this. I love you," Jungkook sobs brokenly. Unable to look him in the eyes anymore - unable to stand the utter devastation written on his face - you look away.
"I'm sorry," you whisper softly.
And then, you walk away.
By the time you’re drawn out of your reverie, Jungkook is long gone. In his stead, stands Minhyuk, who looks at you expectantly. ‘Say you’ll marry me.’ Minhyuk’s voice once again rings through your head and you can’t help but feel queasy at the statement. You had broken up with Jungkook because you wanted to get married - and you do. But, is Minhyuk who you want to marry? As harsh as it is, marrying Minhyuk feels like… you’re settling - and that doesn’t sit well with you. But what do you do now? What if this was your only chance? You’re twenty-seven now and you hadn’t lied to Jungkook when you said you didn’t want to wait another five years only for things to fall apart if he decided he still didn’t want to get married.
But this doesn’t feel right.
You and Minhyuk stare at each other, Minhyuk patiently waiting for your answer. Except, you have no idea what you want to say. Your skin flushes with heat and you feel panic set into your bones while your stomach flips. Blood rushes through your ears, the sound drowning out everything else as you simply stare at Minhyuk. Though, you’re not really looking at him. No, because even now, with Minhyuk standing in front of you and Jungkook long gone, there’s only one person on your mind.
The same person who’s been on your mind the entire night.
Abruptly, Hoseok’s words ring through your head. ‘You’re strong - but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want.’ Your brother’s voice plays over and over in your head - like a broken vinyl - until it’s all you can hear. Then, a spark of epiphany courses through your head, and the dawning of revelation washes over you.
You do know what you want - more than anything.
And you know what you have to do now.
It's almost two in the morning when Jungkook finds himself outside of your apartment. He doesn't know how long he's sat there, back against the wall and knees up to his chest as he stares at your flat door. After he'd left Hoseok's apartment, he found his feet walking to a bar, and after about an hour of drinking, he'd walked home. Well, he'd meant to walk home. But, somehow, in his tipsy-fogged mind, he'd automatically walked to your building and then up to your flat. A while after that, he'd just sat outside your door, contemplating whether he should knock or not. The largest part of him desperately wanted to knock - and multiple times, fueled by the courage of the alcohol - he almost had. However, each time, the smaller part of him would stop himself, unable to actually follow through. What if you'd said yes to Minhyuk? What if you didn't want to see him? What if you're with Minhyuk? Jungkook doesn't know what he'd do if he knocks, only to find Minhyuk on the other side of the door.
Head repeatedly banging against the wall behind him, Jungkook stares at the gold plated numbers of your door. With every second that passes, the alcohol in his system slowly fades away and Jungkook finds himself sobering. But still, he doesn't leave. He can't bring himself to get up and walk away. It's late enough that sleep should begin fogging his mind, but again, not knowing whether you said yes or no to Minhyuk would eat away at him - and he knows he'd be restless and unable to sleep until he finds out. Yet, he just cannot bring himself to knock. So, instead, he just sits outside your apartment. Waiting for something. Anything.
For you.
Another hour passes and you still don't come. Jungkook lets out a shuddering breath, his head falling into his hands. Mentally, he draws up a pros and cons list of knocking - and yet, each time, he scraps them all. Even with all the cons: you could be engaged to Minhyuk, you could be with Minhyuk, you could be moving on with Minhyuk; Jungkook can't help but consider the pros: you could have said no, you could be alone, you could be waiting for him. It's that last one that he dreads. There's a small chance you couldbe waiting for him and that has hope flaring in his chest. But in this situation, hope is the most crushing thing in existence - because it's only a small chance - and his hope could be crushed the minute you answer the door.
A part of him believes you had to have said to yes - you just had to have - because that's what you wanted, wasn't it? You wanted to get married. So, what reason would you have to say no? But that small, niggling voice in Jungkook head won't stop speaking - won't stop telling him that he's a reason you would have said no. Nevertheless, Jungkook knows that voice comes from his hope - and as he's mentioned - hope is the worst thing he has right now.
"You can't keep doing this, Jungkook. It's been nine months. You should move on- like she is," Jungkook mutters to himself out loud. He has no doubt that if anyone sees him, they'd think he was some sort of crazy person, but Jungkook also doesn't care. Over and over, he repeats the sentences to himself and eventually, he gets up, ready to leave.
But then he stops.
Turning back to your door, he takes in a shuddering breath, and before he can stop himself - or even rethink his spontaneous decision - he finds himself knocking. Because he desperately needs to know if he's lost you once and for all. Then, he waits again.
And still waits.
Time moves excruciatingly slowly - the seconds agonisingly passing away. Momentarily, Jungkook considers knocking again - maybe you're asleep, maybe you didn't hear him. But the adrenaline-induced courage has long since faded after he knocked, and once again he finds himself turning away.
However, then, he hears it: the clinking of a chain.
The door creaks open slowly, Jungkook sucking in a sharp breath as he spots you. You're dressed in a large hoodie - and hope flares in his chest as he recognises it. It's hishoodie. He thought he'd misplaced it a while ago - but no, apparently it was just with you. But why? Why hadn't you returned it to him?
As soon as the door is wide open, you stare in disbelief at the sight in front of you. Rubbing your blood-shot eyes, your mouth drops slightly as you realise you're not imagining it. Jungkook is standing in front of you. Why is Jungkook standing in front of you?
"J-Jungkook?" you stutter out, bewilderment heavy in your voice.
"I'm sorry," Jungkook blurts out. Taken aback by his sudden apology, your eyebrow furrows.
"W-What? Why are you sorry?" you ask, unsure of what's happening. You'd just been crying in bed - desperately wishing for Jungkook - so, when you'd opened your door only to see him, you'd thought you were dreaming. And now? Well, now you're just confused. What does he have to be sorry about?
"I made a mistake. You were right- I didn't- I never thought about our future together. I never considered getting married, or whether we'd have a family together and it's because I was comfortable. I grew comfortable in our relationship and I took it for granted. I took you for granted," Jungkook breathes out. His words fall so quickly from his lips, he practically rambles, and you really have to strain to understand his words. "After five years together, I just got so used to us. I thought I'd always have you, and so, marriage or a family didn't even cross my mind - but it should have. I should have thought about our future together. I'm sorry that I didn't, and I'm sorry that I thought about it too late," Jungkook continues. Once again, he pauses, taking a deep breath as he thinks about what to say next. But if he's being honest, he doesn't really know what else to say.
Shoulders deflating, Jungkook runs a weary hand through his hair, and suddenly, he looks more harried than you've seen him in a long time. "I'm just- I'm sorry I didn't think about it back then. I'm just sorry," Jungkook finishes lamely. There's more on the tip of his tongue: I miss you, I want you, I love you; but he can't bring himself to say them. Not when you could be happy with Minhyuk. He can't do that to you - he'd broken your heart that day - when he'd openly admitted he'd never thought about a future with you - and now, you have a chance with someone else. And he can't take that away from you, even if it breaks his heart to let you go. Left reeling by his words, they play over and over in your mind, and it takes all your brainpower to reallyunderstand them - but in your stunned daze, you don't say anything - and Jungkook doesn't know what to make of it.
So, instead, "I guess, that's what I wanted to say. I- I hope you're happy with Minhyuk," he chokes out. Sluggishly, you realise that Jungkook is walking away - and that's all it takes to restart your brain.
"W-what if I'm not happy? What would you do if I wasn't happy?" you rasp, your voice straining. Jungkook freezes at your words, his blood running cold. Then, he whips around so quickly, you fear he'd get whiplash. However, Jungkook doesn't care. Rather, his eyes swiftly rake over your face, searching for something, anything to confirm what'd he'd just heard. He finds it in your eyes; in the way they silently beg him to continue, plead with him to say everything on his mind.
Helpless under your imploring gaze, Jungkook finds his tongue unravelling as he lays his feelings at your feet. "I'd ask for a second chance. A chance to make you happy and give you what you want," Jungkook breathes out. Your eyes widen in the slightest at his proclamation.
Is he saying what you think he is?
Incredulity painted as clear as day on your face and sliver of hope evident in your eyes, Jungkook's face softens slightly. He wasn't lying - when Minhyuk had proposed the ultimatum, Jungkook had felt his heartbreak - and when he'd sat in the bar, all he could think about was you. More importantly, all he could think about was the missed opportunity. He imagined what you'd look like on your wedding day. How happy would you be? Would you look as radiantly beautiful as he imaged you to be? Would you smile in that carefree, captivating way that you did? But then, he grew maudlin - because he realised that if you did, it wouldn't be for him - and that broke his heart. It broke his heart to imagine you marrying someone that wasn't him, smiling for someone who wasn't him, creating a family with someone that wasn't him.
Nothing but sincerity in his voice, Jungkook continues, "I'd ask for you to take me back and to marry you. Because that's what I want - as long as it's with you," Jungkook finishes.
Throat clogged up with the heavy weight of your emotions, you swallow thickly, "then ask," you choke out. Your words are simple - and practically inaudible - but in the stillness of the empty corridor, and the quiet of the night, Jungkook hears it as clear as day.
"But- But what about Minhyuk?" Jungkook asks, unsure about whether he should or not. Hope flares in his chest at your words - but he doesn't want to believe them. Not yet, at least.
"Ask anyway," you simply say.
"Will you-" Jungkook begins, but the instant he opens his mouth, you're cutting him off.
"Yes," you reply - not even waiting for him to finish. It doesn't matter what he said. It doesn't matter if the words to follow are 'give me a second chance' or 'marry me' because all that matters is that he's back. All that matters is that he's willing to think about your future together - and right now, that's enough for you.
"You don't even know what I'm going to say-mpf," Jungkook begins, only to be stopped short when you pull him in for a kiss.
The instant his lips touch yours, you feel your entire body become electrified. Your veins are set afire with love, Jungkook's soft lips pressed against yours in a sweet kiss. Instinctively, Jungkook's arms wrap around your waist, his hands pulling your body flush against his as he feels you for the first time in months. You taste the same as you always have - temptingly sweet - and your body against his feels exquisite: your curves and contours fitting perfectly against his body. Sinking into this kiss, and consequently Jungkook, you sigh against his lips while you let your hands wander across his broad shoulder, before carding them into his hair.
Brief moments later, Jungkook breaks off your kiss; his forehead falling to rest against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. His hands move to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly as he lazily peppers soft kisses against your lips. Despite the softness of the moment, Jungkook can't stop wondering about Minhyuk - a sentiment he expresses to you in concern.
"I couldn't do it. I couldn't say yes," you reply, your eyes holding nothing but the truth. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together, and you find yourself giggling at the adorable expression. After a light peck against his lips, you move to rest your head against his chest, your eyes slipping shut as you feel his steady heartbeat under your ear. "I couldn't do it, because even then, you were all I could think about. I thought I wanted to get married, and I did - I do - but I realised, I didn't want to marry just anyone. I wanted to marry you," you confess. Jungkook's heart soars in his chest and helpless under your spell, he finds himself pulling you in for another kiss.
However, this time, it's different. This time, your kiss isn't slow, or soft. No, it's needier - Jungkook’s pouring out his entire heart into your kiss as he bruises his lips against you. Gasping against his lips, your fists clench around Jungkook’s leather jacket - using the material to pull him closer into you. You pull away from Jungkook’s lips, breathing heavily against his lips as you stare up at him through the thick of your eyelashes.
“Do you want to come in?” you breathily ask. Jungkook pauses for a moment.
“Are you sure? We don’t have to-” he begins refuting. However, you’re already pressing kisses against his jaw - lightly nipping the sensitive spot just above his Adam’s apple.
“I’m sure. I’ve missed you,” you rasp out, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated. Jungkook’s eyes dilate at your words, and before you know what’s happening, he’s leading you into your apartment.
The both of you barely make it into your apartment, before Jungkook is slamming the door shut and pushing you up against the hard wood. Caging you between his arms, Jungkook’s lips fall upon yours again, his lips moving in a frenzied fashion this time. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer into you. Jungkook lets out a soft growl against your lips before pulling away. Peppering kisses along your jaw, he trails down the column of your throat before nuzzling his face into the juncture of your shoulder.
“God- I’ve missed you,” Jungkook whispers as he breathes in your calming scent. Own hands threading into his hair, you lazily play with the locks at the nape of his neck.
“I missed you too. A lot,” you moan out as Jungkook begins to suckle bruises onto the tender flesh of your throat.
“Is that why you’re wearing my hoodie?” Jungkook asks, curiosity winning out on him. Not that you don’t look good in it - in fact, seeing you dressed in his clothing is one of Jungkook’s favourite things.
“Maybe,” you reply coyly, “what are you going to do about it?” you continue. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath at the teasing lilt to your voice and immediately, drops to his knees. You jerk at the sudden movement, your eyes widening marginally at the sight of Jungkook on his knees.
“If this was any other time, I’d teach you a lesson. But right now, I’ve missed you too much, and you look good enough to eat,” Jungkook groans out as he runs his nose along the exposed flesh of your inner thigh. Your breath hitches at his words, Jungkook’s large hands slowly wrapping around your thighs before he parts your legs. Tenderly, his hands run up the back of your thighs, and gripping the flesh of your ass, he pulls your hips further into him.
Running his nose against the cotton of your panties, Jungkook takes in a deep breath before groaning as the heady scent of your arousal runs through his nose. He pushes his hoodie further up your hips, his lips gently tracing his way up the length of your thigh. Positioned just over your hip, Jungkook places a tender kiss above where your bone is. Then, he bites down on the waistband of your panties before slowly sliding it down your legs. When he gets to the crooks of your thighs, he lets go of it, letting the material drop to the floor.
You step out of your underwear and spread your legs - making more room for Jungkook. Gripping one of your thighs, he pulls it to rest over his shoulder, exposing your pussy to his gaze. Dark, lust-filled eyes rove over your folds, Jungkook shuddering as the scent of your arousal deepens. Your sex is slightly dewy, glistening in the low lighting of your living room. Biting his lip, Jungkook edges closer to your folds before tentatively licking a line: all the way from your core to your clit.
“Oh fuck,” you groan out, your head lolling back while one of your hands shoots out to tangle into his thick hair. Hearing your low groan, Jungkook smirks against your pussy before repeating the action. Spikes of pleasure run up and down your spine, your eyelids fluttering as you lose yourself into the pleasure he brings upon your body.
Moving one hand, Jungkook presses two fingers against the petals of your sex before parting his digits in a ‘V’ shape and consequently your folds. With your pussy exposed, Jungkook once again licks a thick line from your dripping, honeyed entrance, all the way to your engorged bud. He licks harder this time, his tongue lapping in a broad line as he gathers your heady essence onto his tongue. Your arousal bathes his tastebuds, and with his nose pressed against the hood of your clit - all he can taste, all he can breathe is you.
Soft lips wrap around your clit, Jungkook pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth before lightly suckling on it. His ministrations cause you to gasp - the sound quickly morphing into a heavy moan when his nips your throbbing clit. Tangling your fingers further into his hair, you slowly undulate your hips, pushing them further into Jungkook as you tug on his hair, trying to get him to move fast.
Sensing the urgency in your movements, Jungkook rakes his teeth over your clit in warning once again. Then, breaking away with a pop, “Be patient, darling,” Jungkook breathes out. The lusty fog of your desire rolls thickly into your head, clouding your mind and setting your flesh aflame with want and through your wanton need, you barely hear Jungkook’s words. Instead, the feel of Jungkook’s warm breath wafting over your wet folds has you shuddering in pleasure.
“Kook,” you whine needily, desperation heavy in the high pitch of your voice.
With his face buried between your thighs, you can’t see his face. But you don’t have to. You can feel the smirk on his lips. Not that you really care - because he’s currently swirling his tongue around your clit tantalisingly and subsequently driving you to the brink of insanity. Lightly, he moves the two fingers that have you spread open. You shudder at the featherlight touch, feeling him softly ghost his fingertips over the outline of your folds before circling your entrance. His touch has your core clenching, your pussy walls fluttering around his fingertips.
“Fuck- I forgot how fucking sensitive your pussy is,” Jungkook moans against your clit. His words are slightly muffled, and the vibration of his voice shoots straight from your clit to the pits of your belly. Loins heating with pleasure, you feel your stomach twist and knot as Jungkook laps kittenish licks against your clit. Teasingly, Jungkook continues circling his fingertip against your entrance, feeling the way strings of your sticky wetness drip out of you before they cling to his digit.
Drawing away from your clit, Jungkook slowly pulls his finger away; his throat drying as he watches the thin, filmy strings of your arousal drip from your pussy and onto his finger. The thick rivulets stretch as he pulls away - and the moment one of them snaps - Jungkook is unable to stop himself from pressing his head back between your thighs. Tongue plunging into your core, his swirls his wet appendage around your cunt, groaning as thick streams of arousal drip onto his tongue.
“Oh fuck- Kook,” you mewl, your head falling back and hitting the door with a light thud. The pain barely registers in your mind, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your pussy flutters around his tongue. Helpless against your needy whine, Jungkook pushes two fingers into your depths, your body jerking at the sudden intrusion as you tug at his hair reflexively. Twisting his fingers into you, Jungkook pumps his digits in and out, relishing in the feel of your silken, pulsating walls around his appendages as he continues eating you out - almost ravenously.
Gripping his locks tightly, you gyrate harder into his mouth. Waves of pleasure flit over your skin, your blood boiling with ecstasy as you feel the warmth in your belly begin to heat up. When Jungkook spreads your entrance using his fingers, his tongue plunging deeper into you, you let out a cry of pleasure. God, you’d forgotten just howgood Jungkook’s mouth was. Mouth and throat running dry, you swallow thickly before panting out his name over and over again. The once dull warmth begins burning your loins; searing, white-hot pleasure running up and down your flesh, your skin prickling with goosebumps as you feel your orgasm approaching.
“Please-” you groan out, the guttural sound intermingling with the wet, sloppy sounds of Jungkook eating you out. Thighs quivering against his ears, Jungkook pushes his fingers deeper into you. Expertly, he finds the sweet spot inside you, his fingers crooking at the knuckle as he strokes the spongy spot. Reflexively, your hand tugs his hair harshly while your knees buckle under the euphoria of your approaching orgasm.
“Are you cumming, baby? You wanna cum on my tongue?” Jungkook taunts, a teasing lilt to his voice. Swallowing thickly, it’s all you can do to simply rasp out his name. Knowing he has you on the verge of ecstasy, Jungkook doubles his efforts - his fingers pistoning inside you quicker as he wraps his wet lips around your clit.
“God, your pussy tastes so fucking good. I missed you - missed the way your pretty little pussy feels around my tongue,” Jungkook grunts out. Another whine of pleasure escapes your lips, your hips jolting into his face when the pads of his finger stroke your g-spot.
“Cumming-” you gasp out, your voice cracking under the pleasure.
“Then cum baby- cum all over my tongue. I wanna taste you- wanna drink you up,” Jungkook urges. The filthiness of his words, paired with the way he harshly sucks your clit, instantly has you cumming.
A loud mewl escaping your lip, you whine out his name. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your visions filled with white spots as your orgasm ricochets through you. Feeling you come undone above him, Jungkook rips his fingers out of you, his hands gripping your flesh and fingers digging into your skin as he holds your violently trembling thighs. The scent of your arousal thickens deeply, and Jungkook watches with dilated eyes as thick ropes of cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs.
Placing his lips against your entrance, Jungkook slurps at your cum, swallowing it thickly and relishing in your taste. You whine out his name, your knees buckling from the power of your orgasm - and if it weren’t for Jungkook’s strong grip, you’re sure you’d drop to the floor. Gasping for air, you slowly come down from the high of your orgasm, Jungkook patiently waiting for you to descend down to reality.
Tenderly, your boyfriend places affectionate kisses along the length of your thigh, softly cooing at you while he whispers sweet nothings against your flesh. A soft smile tugs at your lips and you untangle your fingers from their vice-like grip on his locks. Instead, you softly play with the strands, marvelling at their silk-like texture. Jungkook always had beautiful hair, but with how long it is currently, you can reallyadmire it.
“Kook- want you,” you mew. Jungkook chuckles at the soft neediness in your voice.
“Come here, sweetheart,” Jungkook says before he gathers you in his arms. Gently, he brings you to the floor with him. Still swimming in the haziness of your orgasm, you feel Jungkook swiftly divest himself off his clothing, until he’s left naked. Once done, Jungkook gathers you into his arms once again. He shifts you so your thighs are straddling his, your body propped against his strong chest as his back rests against the door to your apartment.
Unable to help yourself, you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands indolently running over his skin as you finally feel him under your touch. You trace every muscle of his upper body - from the corded flesh of his biceps, to the taut skin of his abdomen; and then towards his broad, defined shoulders. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, his hands running up the hem of his hoodie and flitting up your skin before he divests you off the article of clothing - leaving you both naked.
Shuddering at the feel of the night’s crisp air against your skin, you snuggle closer into Jungkook’s warmth, letting his presence wash over you. “I missed you,” you mumble against his skin. Jungkook’s face softens and he nods, his head dropping so he can press a kiss to your shoulder. His long hair tickles your skin and you relish in the featherlight touch.
Not wanting to wait any longer - and more than desperate to feel him inside of you - you flex your thighs, picking yourself up. One hand feels out for Jungkook’s cock, and easily finding the shaft, you grip the base before pressing it against your entrance. Feeling the bulbous head push against your entrance, you let out a soft whine before slowly descending down onto him. Slowly, he spreads out your walls, his thick girth stretching you out for the first time in months. It’s been a while since you’ve had Jungkook and the sheer size of him has a dull pain stinging at your pussy walls - but you don’t mind so much. No, in fact, you cherish it - because you’d sorely missed how transcendent he’d felt stretching out your pussy to its brim.
“Oh fuck- God, you’re so fucking tight. You feel so good,” Jungkook groans out, his cock twitching with every inch he sinks into you. Jungkook’s arms wrap around you, holding your naked chest flush against his as you continue your descent onto his cock. When he finally bottoms out, his balls resting just under your ass, you let out a little whimper, your fingers clawing into his shoulder.
“You good, baby?” Jungkook asks, his lips skimming the outline of your collarbone.
“Yeah- you feel- so good,” you gasp out. Jungkook gives you a couple of moments to adjust to the feel of him - and then, he’s gripping your hips before lifting them up for you. You cry out in pleasure as you feel his cock retreat out of you, only for Jungkook to thrust upwards, plunging the entire length of his shaft.
The two of you begin moving in tandem with each other: Jungkook helping you move on top of him while simultaneously impaling his cock into you. With every one of his movements, you feel pleasure run through your veins. Every time he plunges the entirety of his cock inside of you, you let out short gasps, your toes curling in pleasure. Moving slowly, you take the time to simply feel each other - the ardent fire of your lust and love burning bright in the pits of both your bellies as you sink into unadulterated pleasure.
Your slow, sensual pace continues for a little while longer - but you can slowly feel Jungkook’s desperation increasing with each thrust. His hands begin wandering over your hips and around to hold your ass. Fingers digging into the soft flesh, he grips your ass tightly before bouncing you harder ontop of him. Need fills his every movement - Jungkook’s thrusts becoming rougher. You bounce on top of him, your entire body shaking as Jungkook thrusts harder and harder into you. Changing the angle of his hips, Jungkook plunges his cock against your sweet spot, the head of his cock brushing it with every impalement of his hips.
“I’m cumming, baby,” Jungkook warns. Not that he really needs to, you can feel his cock throb erratically inside you, twitching every now and then as your walls clench rhythmically around his shaft - massaging his entire length.
“Cum, baby. Cum in me. Wanna feel you deep in me,” you say softly, your hands softly massaging his shoulders. Jungkook lets out a little groan, pulling your hips harder down onto him as he tries to push his cock as deep as he can into you.
“Cum with me. Play with yourself. Wanna feel you cum around my cock,” Jungkook urgers, and you find yourself growing wetter at the authority present in his voice. Unable to deny him anything, you twist one arm between your body and begin expertly playing with your clit. The additional pleasure has you crying out in ecstasy. All of a sudden, you feel heat rush through your veins, your lips parting in a silent scream as you cum for a second time.
Feeling your walls clamp around him tightly, paired with the gushing of your cum around his cock, Jungkook let’s out a little groan. “Oh fuck,” he moans. Then with two stilted thrusts, he plunges his cock as deep as he can into you before cumming with a soft roar. His cock twitches inside your walls before he shoots rope after rope of hot cum inside you. You groan at the feel of his warmth, your toes curling in pleasure as the base of your spine tingles.
Jungkook holds you to him tightly, clutching your body to his as you both gasp and pant for air. The haziness of your euphoric high slowly abates, until you’re both left clinging to each other. Eventually, the white spots in your vision clear and you slowly pull away from him. You take in the sight of Jungkook, completely spent and sweat-soaked locks clinging to his forehead. Hearing you giggle, Jungkook opens one eye to peek at you.
“Stop laughing at me,” he pouts. Once again, you giggle at him, and then let yourself fall against him. Exhaustion weighs down your muscles and you find yourself snuggling into Jungkook’s chest, sleep already replacing the lust-filled fog that clouds your head.
“I can’t help it if you’re so cute,” you mumble sleepily. Jungkook bites his lips, lightly snorting through his nose. However, he simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with you. Instead, he sits quietly while attempting to catch his breath.
Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of a rest - but when he turns to you, you’re already deeply asleep, a small smile on your lips. Tenderly, Jungkook tuts, but there’s no real ire in it. Gathering you in his arms, he picks you up, wincing when his muscles protest the movement. Ignoring the pain, he carries you into your bedroom before gently depositing under the cover.
Fatigue quickly overcomes him, and it’s all Jungkook can do to not collapse beside you. Holding off, however, he manages to sluggishly pull himself under the cover. Once under the thick sheets, Jungkook shifts closer to you before he pulls you into his arms. You’re both sticky - your skin covered in a light sheen of perspiration - and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but Jungkook doesn’t care.
He’d be damned if he spent one more night without you in his arms.
a/n: owo i hope you enjoyed it! please don’t forget to tell me what you thought 🥺
⇥ Masterlist
#bts smut#ficswithluv#bangtanarmynet#kwritersworldnet#btsguild#btsbookclub#btswriterscollective#btswritingcafe#ksmutclub#smutcentralnet#magicshopnet#bangtanhq#jungkook x reader#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#bts jungkook smut#bts jungkook fic
7K notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you please share a snippet from Angsty Byghead Reunion ?
So like, the premise of this fic is that Jughead and Betty, still broken up and also living way better lives than canon gave them (and there's a chunk of this fic that's dedicated to how they've each rebuilt things post-cheating and post-high school), independently get completely trashed on what would have been their ten year anniversary and sleep with someone who looks like the other because angst, except surprise! They actually slept with each other, and they wake up and think they're dreaming and have a very honest talk and bone and go back to sleep, and then they wake up again and realize, "ohhhh, shit, what did I do?"
So, like, I'm gonna give you a snippet from each section below the cut:
Jughead's life:
Six months into his life in New York and the week of his first book’s publication, he runs into Veronica at one of the many networking parties his publisher makes him attend.
Stuffed into a suit and picking off canape after canape, he finds her avoiding everyone by the bar. A stilted, obligatory conversation of how are you’s and oh, it’s been so long’s morphs into a conversation of (or rather a debate about) classic cinema, the merits and failures of Hitchcock, and whether Breakfast at Tiffany’s is better than In Cold Blood.
“You cannot deny the misogyny in Hitchcock’s films, Torombolo.”
“I’m not; it’s an obvious flaw in his work. But you can’t deny the craft and the influence of his work either.”
“I said no such thing--”
“You implied--”
“I absolutely--”
By the end of the night, they exchange contact information neither had deleted from their phones. Slowly but surely, Veronica is drawn into his life and his friends, dropping bon mots and dragging them to spa days and complaining about her family, her family’s business, her husband—until she leaves them all one crisp winter morning to focus on herself, her business, her friends. They celebrate all weekend, with drinks, brunches, movies, and a trip to the fanciest multi-gender strip club in town.
Betty's life:
Her years at Yale seem happy, filled with friends and, eventually, what seems like a boyfriend, a blonde man who kisses her cheek. The tag on the picture leads him to a guy named Adam, who has picture after picture of Betty on his feed for about a year before they abruptly stop in March of their senior year.
(Not that Jughead checks often, just once or twice.)
After Adam, there’s one woman, Nancy Woods, he thinks, who makes a six month appearance with occasional kisses, but, after that, no one appears who looks like a romantic partner. Still, Jughead’s sure Betty has one and is just keeping them quiet. After all, she’s Betty; who wouldn’t want to date her?
Cheryl makes a few appearances during what must be breaks, often with the twins and just as dramatic always. Cheryl doesn’t have much in the way of pictures of Betty on her feed, mostly just glamorous shots of beautiful women, maple trees, and the yearly tribute to Jason.
But the one constant through all the years is, of all people, Ethel Muggs. She first appears at the beginning of freshman year at Yale, and she is a constant, smiling feature all the way through the present day. How it happens, Jughead doesn’t know, but he’s glad Betty has a friend through it all.
Totes a dream:
Jughead wakes up to the smell of vanilla and soap, to the smell of Betty, and the feeling of someone in his arms who fits into him just right for the first time in seven years. Well, his mind tries to tell him he wakes up, but Jughead knows he must be dreaming. He’s had these dreams before, after all, dreams of Betty and a life together. He should try to wake up, he knows he should, but...he doesn’t want to.
He pulls her closer, buries his nose in her hair; he wants to be closer, as close as he can get. She lets out a little Mmm sound that he remembers from so many early mornings with Betty, and he can’t stop himself from holding her tighter and breathing out, “Betts.”
“Jug?” he hears back, and his heart stops because yes, that’s it, that’s her; her voice is a little deeper than he remembers, but it’s her. His dreams have never been this good at recapturing every little detail of her. No, he normally dreams of memories--playful mornings, exciting investigations, heated nights--but this is different, this is new, quiet and soft and a little sad, but he’s not going to question it.
Wuh-oh, that's real:
Fuck, what does he say? What does he say to this wonderful woman who he let go, who he drifted away from because he was scared?
“I--,” love you, miss you, want you to tell me you weren’t lying in the dream that wasn’t a dream, “--Hi,” he chokes out, instantly berating himself. Seven years of suppressed longing, and that is the best he can do when reuniting with the love of his life?
“Hi,” she returns softly, leaning against her dresser and biting her lip, and, oh, how he wants to free that lip, run his thumb over it gently, only for her to bite him back.
“You,” are still more beautiful than anyone or anything I have ever or will ever see, “look good.”
“You too.”
What is wrong with him? Mere hours ago he was holding her, comforting her, confessing to her, bearing his soul to her, with her, reveling in those early hours of dawn like he had when they were eighteen.
The whole thing is very fragmented, and idk when I'd finish it, but I'm fond of it, very fond of it, especially making Jughead and Betty both bi (it's less obvious in the Jughead snippet I included here, but explicit in another part of the story) because that's important to me. Also, the ANGST, so much angst.
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ten Years Down The Line
This is an attempt at writing the far(ish) future for Haskell. It started off as an AU but honestly I love the implications so fuck it, it's an arc now. Content warning for [not self inflicted] cutting with a boxcutter, scars and creepy comfort.
---
These days, Haskell Haveter talks mostly to his plants. Gently, slightly stilted murmurs of encouragement with a gentle yet calloused hand under their leaves to inspect the beautiful green sheen on them as he drips filtered water into their deep brown soil with a pippete. "Oh, sweetheart," he mumbles to his dying flowers, set aside from the others. They've lived as long as they could be expected to under his tender care and now they are dying, quite simply, of old age. He strokes them sadly, stooping down to the floor, reaching a hand out with a grunt of pain to clear up the petals that they've shed like tears onto the cold concrete floor. Tears, blood and saltwater are all things the floor is very well acquaintanced with.
He stands up and rubs his stiff shoulders as he puts the petals in his bin, and settles down on the neatly made bed to read the book he has loaned- it's an encyclopedia of plants and he loans and reloans it as often as he can.
"Haveter," says someone from the open door. He looks up, and sees Iverson. Iverson sits down on the floor, and motions for him to sit in his lap like a dog. "Come now," he says as Haskell sits down, leaving his book on the bed. Iverson puts his hand on Haskell’s throat, and rests it there for a while whilst he rubs his hands across his upper back, massaging the tightness from his scarred joints through his T-shirt. Haskell murmurs in appreciation and leans his head against Iverson's shoulder, leaning into the hand on his throat. "Is that good?" asks Iverson.
"Yeah," he croaks, voice a little strained from the pressure he's putting on his throat by leaning against Iverson's gloved hand. "Mmm," he mumbles, as Iverson digs his fingers between two particularly painfully tight gouges of scar tissue and rubs the tension out momentarily.
A smile cracks across Iverson's face as Haskell buries his head in his shoulder. "There," he says, and lets his hand fall away from the deep and waxy lash scars, crossed by newer, scabbed-over burns and cuts that run across Haskell's back. "What do you want to do today?"
Haskell shakes his head, still buried in Iverson's shoulder. "I don't want to do anything. Wasn't I good enough yesterday? I thought I was," he mumbles.
"You were very good yesterday, don’t you worry. Almost flawless. Did you enjoy it, Haskell, that's the real question."
"Honestly, I liked being in a suit again the most," he mumbles, snuggling his way closer into Iverson's chest. "It felt good. Like I was human again."
Iverson tilts his head to one side, quizzical. "You feel less than human now?"
"Sometimes. You're the only one who touches me these days. Everyone else stays at arm's length. Like I'm an animal and not a human. Except Fennec but... he’s just like me, isn’t he? He doesn’t count."
"Anton Fennec? In some ways, yes, in some, no, you and him are different too. I gathered you hadn't seen Nelson for a while the way you're clinging to me now," says Iverson, running his hands through Haskell’s fringe and curling it around his fingers idly. "You're always clingy after they leave you alone for a while." Haskell curls into Iverson’s chest as Iverson rubs the point where his head meets his spine. He melts into that touch every single time, lets Iverson work the tension out of the place where the bone curves gently at the base of his skull with gentle murmurs of appreciation and a quiet smile. Iverson enjoys that very much. To think he at one point wanted to kill the man for the art of it, and now has him sometimes quite literially eating from his hand. Sometimes he still hopes for the day when Haskell needs to be retired, but he doubts that’ll come any time soon, if at all. Besides, this tenderness is a greater art, just a more subtle cruelty.
"Mmm," Haskell says eventually, eyes fluttering closed. He only looks up sluggishly when Iverson takes his knife from his pocket and flicks it open. It’s a yellow craft knife, the sort you would use to cut boxes. “I thought you said I did good enough,” he says fearfully, staring at the blade as Iverson holds it up to the light. “I’m sorry, whatever I did wrong, but you said I did okay, there’s no need for that-”
“Shh,” says Iverson, pressing a finger to Haskell’s lips. “Shh, don’t look. I’m not punishing you. I just want to sort out that nasty bit of scarring. Don’t look and it won’t hurt so much.” He gently pulls Haskell’s shirt off and runs his hands up the stark bones of his spine, across years of scars accrued like sediment until he finds the two scars from the lashes that trap a small peice of unmarked skin between them, taut and tight. “See, if I cut this, it won’t be so tight. It’ll heal properly.” He indicates his shoulder, and Haskell shifts back into the crook of Iverson’s neck, burying his face under the collar of his black coat. “It’ll feel better when it heals properly.”
Iverson presses the point of the craft knife between the two old scars and breaks the skin. Haskell gasps, clutching Iverson’s back like a child holding on to his mother, and groans in pain as Iverson slowly and carefully tugs the point of the blade down between the scars. “That hurts,” he breathes, nuzzling against the bare skin of Iverson’s neck beneath his shirt collar. “That hurts,” he mumbles again, draping his arms around Iverson and holding on tightly, head still pressed against Iverson’s neck.
Iverson carries on cutting languidly, splitting the two scars apart with a line of welling blood, precise and careful despite having Haskell’s arms wrapped around him. “And what have I told you about that?”
“You said that that’s- ah, ah, ow,” he whimpers. “You said that that’s okay sometimes. That it’s not the pain itself that people fear, rather, what’s around it. But I don’t know if you’re right.” He shifts a little with a grunt of pain, and Iverson tuts.
“Hold still,” he says. “Why don’t you know?”
“Sorry. All these years and I never really thought about pain like that. But you’re right, when they took my eye it didn’t really hurt until I started to realise how it was going to affect me.” He licks his lips and lets another quiet whine of pain escape through gritted teeth as Iverson pulls two particularly knotty points of the scars apart with the knife. “But these things hurt. They do always hurt- aah!” He cries out, then follows with a pained gasp, arching his shoulders a little, a movement which Iverson quickly smooths out with a hand on Haskell’s lower back.
“I’m nearly done, I’m nearly done,” he says, rubbing the spot where Haskell’s head meets his neck again. Haskell quiets down and leans into his touch. “What were you saying?” Iverson asks.
"Pain hurts. I don’t understand how you enjoy it," he says quietly.
"I don't enjoy it." Iverson gives the knife a little final tug. Haskell gasps again, grabbing onto Iverson's coat with shaking fists, and Iverson pulls it free from his back. "There, I'm done. I'm done. Oh, good boy," he says, rubbing the small of Haskell's back as he relaxes again. "You're so good most of the time, aren't you?"
"Depends," says Haskell from where he's resting his head on Iverson's shoulder. "If you were the poor bastard they had me talking to yesterday... well," he says, and laughs quietly. "He certainly didn't think I was good to him."
"The Division can't be measured as good or evil, nor can you when you’re letting it speak through you. It's necessary. Not evil, not good, necessary," says Iverson, going back to rubbing his hands over Haskell's freshly bloodied back to the same mumbled gratitude. "Soon you'll be ready to try some real work for them."
"I'd like that," says Haskell, and smiles with his face buried in Iverson's shoulder. "I'd like that a lot, actually." He leans into the warmth of Iverson's touch, even though the blood dripping down his back smears and smudges across his pale skin under Iverson's gloved fingers.
#count the days#haskell haveter#intimate whumper#whump writing#captivity whump#original writing#creepy comfort
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
June Contest Submission #19: Nube Negra
Words: ca. 3,700
Setting: post-F2
Lemon: no
CW: self-harm, angst
“It looks ready to storm outside.”
“Huh, you think?”
“Yeah, look.”
“Mmm. Does that mean you’ll stay longer?”
“Stay longer?”
“Yes, stay longer.”
It was always frustratingly fleeting, the times that Elsa would come to the castle. She would come for just a single night, maybe once a week if that, and often would not even stay until morning. The rain had provided the perfect excuse, it would have been simple for her to stay. Elsa wanted to stay, right?
Anna slumped in her throne, one hand tightly gripping the arm. The other raked its way up her face and through her hair, smoothing it for the hundredth time. Why? What had she done to deserve this ire? It had all been going so well before, so what changed?
She needed to reflect on what happened last night. How could it have gone so wrong? It was just a simple request. Now Elsa was upset, and she had to piece together why. But maybe she should have expected that from her, because her efforts always made Elsa upset, didn’t they. No, that was cruel.
‘Think, Anna!’
There was only a limited amount of time before court began, so she would have to do this quickly. Now then, where did this all begin?
__________________
The day was beautiful, and the heat gentle. The humidity did its best to smother everyone, but the heat was far too tame to cause breathy discomfort. Gale had brought a message confirming the allotted time, and Anna had the time set aside by her advisors. Running a country took a lot of effort, but she could always make room for Elsa.
Anna had noticed the grey clouds gathering in the distance and hoped to the gods above that Elsa would make it before they realized their threat. It probably didn’t matter, since it wasn’t like she felt the cold or that type of discomfort. They would have fun, indoors or out. That’s what mattered. If she was lucky, it was possible that they would be able to cuddle up again while the rain pattered down.
It was strange though, Elsa’s letter. Something about the word choice felt stilted, or maybe reluctant was the better word. There seemed to be many a reference to being very busy and still hoping to make it, despite all the issues. Was she trying to say that she wasn’t coming at all? If so, why not state it outright? But that was something they could bring up later, since Elsa didn’t have to come if she really didn’t want to. Anna wasn’t that clingy.
__________________
‘The letter.’
Oh man, she should have read that more carefully and taken it to heart. Stupid, stupid, stupid, how could she have been so blind? Elsa hadn’t wanted to spend time with her and tried to let her down easily. And who could blame her? Anna could be clingy and overbearing on the best of days. Was that an attempt to spare her the upset?
Elsa had always been the reclusive type, even before the accident. Heck, even afterwards it was difficult to spend time with her. Anna had tried to respect those boundaries, but even she knew she had broken them occasionally. That was wrong, wasn’t it. Terribly, utterly wrong. Boundaries were there for a reason.
Her head ached and a sick feeling rose in her chest, along with a lump and a pit in her stomach. God, god, oh god she was horrible. Her nails dug into her forehead and raked her scalp hard as tears threatened to well. No! The person in the wrong should not be upset for their misconduct, it was their own misbehavior.
It was for the best that Elsa spent her time away from someone so awful, who treated her in such a sick way. Making her so deeply uncomfortable and yet still drew her in like a tired moth. And yet, and yet loving Kristoff, good Kristoff…
He gave it all up, hadn’t he? But he was the son of love experts, he would know, they would know. He had offered to help them hide, had known since long before. And yet he stood with them. Why? Why would he give hope to someone like her?
__________________
They had spoken in private before. Matters of the heart, discussions of romance. It was a topic of common interest between them, and Anna was a quick learner. Kristoff was as enthusiastic as she, but over time something in their dynamic changed. Maybe it was the spark in his eye, or maybe it was her dulled excitement. Whatever it was, something was off.
It all came to a head when he stopped her in the hall one day, and they retreated to a private study where they would not be disturbed. Kristoff himself looked impassive, though she could tell his composure was just a bit off.
Kristoff breathed in, and spoke:
“Anna, I know.”
A spark of confusion and worry leapt into her chest as she responded.
“Know what?” Her voice was pitched up, almost breathless.
“Look, I know how you feel about Elsa.”
“Y-you what? I- You do?! I- I mean I don’t feel anything about her, except well sisterly love but you know that’s normal! Right? Right.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Kristoff gave a wan chuckle, “I’m not mad.”
Anna blinked. “You’re not?”
“Anna, I was raised by love experts. Trust me when I say I know what I’m talking about. And you sister? You’re in love.”
“But… but I’m not. Well, I am but it’s with you.”
Kristoff shook his head and smiled.
“You really are oblivious huh.”
“I am not!”
“Okay, let me put it this way. What would you do for her?”
“Anything! You know that!”
“Would you die for her?”
“You know I would and did with that whole frozen heart thing! I’d be dead if it weren’t true love!’
“Feistypants, that’s not how people usually act. And the true love? It doesn’t apply to everyone.”
“That was sisterly love and you know it.”
“Anna,” he said, “listen to me. I know what I’m talking about. It’s okay to admit it.”
She looked at him, mouth quivering, then said, “But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Wouldn’t that hurt you?”
Kristoff shook his head. “I’ve gotten over it, really. I just want you to be happy, okay? That’s what would make me happy.”
Anna shook her head and hugged him. “God, Kristoff, I don’t think I could repay you.”
“How ‘bout a sack of the best carrots you can find for Sven?”
“Kristoff!”
“Okay, okay, geeze.” He raised his hands in mock defeat. “But really, I’m here for you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
__________________
She knew well that probably hurt him a lot, especially when he proposed to keep their facade going. After all, it was improper for a young man like him to spend time with the princess unless they were to marry or something similar. But it was even more improper for a Queen to love her sister. Certainly, there was precedent but not between sisters.
And yet for a time, all was good. They spent time together, they snuggled and kissed in private. It was easy. They were in love, and that came with some arguments, but nothing was wrong. But then the apathy began to settle in, and Elsa began to almost resent being there.
The change was so subtle, maybe she had no chance at noticing. But maybe there was just that base incompatibility of certain parts of them that they had ignored in their honeymoon phase. At what point had she become upset at the lack of contact between them despite the plethora of time they had? When did Elsa become tired of her presence, annoyed to have company?
She should have capitalized her time when they both lived together. She should have done something, anything other than what they had done. She should have reached out first and communicated. That’s what she had always been told, that communication was key to a relationship. And she failed, hadn’t she? She failed, and she was seeing the consequences of that.
Should have, could have, would have. It was useless now, because the present moment became the past and she did not. In the moment, it did hurt when they weren’t together or if she felt that Elsa would leave her again. And she did, didn’t she? But maybe that was inevitable. Maybe that was healthiest for them both if she was too overbearing and hurt by their childhood to heal while Elsa was still there. Worst of all was the fact that she might have to be okay with that and heal from her own mistakes.
Anna’s hands shook as she tried to steel her nerves and not curl up, crying. She wanted nothing more than to scream and cry and beg in upset. Instead, she raked her nails over her scalp again, relishing in the little grounding the pain provided. This was far too much for one little girl like her to handle.
‘No!’ she screamed mentally. She was a queen, an adult woman, and it was time for her to act like one. This entire mess was her fault, and she had to take responsibility. She could not- would not collapse emotionally in front of her people. Even when her sister had seemingly died, she took the next right step. Even in her deep uncertainty, she willed herself composure until it was over.
There was no use in pitying herself or behaving like she wasn’t the one who instigated this. What she had to do was do better in the future. And thus, she had to relive what went wrong so that she might now do right. It was only what Elsa deserved. And maybe Elsa didn’t deserve to have someone like her, but she would do her best to be the best partner she could be.
And yet, she still couldn’t help but be upset at the rejection.
__________________
She waited in the entrance hall, as was customary. There was nothing quite like watching the grand double doors open to let in Elsa’s figure. The juxtaposition between the massive oak doors and the tiny silhouette of her sister was mesmerizing. It always called to mind a painting where the splash of color drew the eye and allowed the art to unfold from there.
And then they didn’t. She waited, and waited, but there was no Elsa. The grey clouds had coalesced by now and had begun darkening. What caused her to be so late? There had to be a reason for it. Maybe she had gotten caught in some early downpour in the forest?
There had to be a reason. Elsa was not the type to be tardy, so it had to be something else. Still, it irked her some. Couldn’t she have sent a forward letter with Gale informing her that she might be late? Or maybe she was too busy to do that. Maybe she was in danger and it was awful to suspect her.
Anna read and reread the letter, hoping to glean some new meaning out of it. Unfortunately, the letter stayed inert and did not succumb to her wishes. All she could tell was that Elsa was supposed to come at the correct time but was busy. Busy with what? It never clarified, and it was probably rude to ask. Still, it couldn’t hurt to emphasize the importance, right?
But then Elsa became later and later and Anna continued her vigil in the entrance hall. It was foolish really, she ought to be working on things now so that they might have more time later to make up for the time lost. But she still desperately wanted to be there when Elsa arrived so she waited.
Finally, the time came. Anna was twisting her hands and watching the door with aching eyes, hardly daring to blink.
‘There. Movement. Please, let it be her.’
And it was. Elsa’s face seemed almost haggard in the firelight, though her expression was neutral. She was perfectly dry, and seemed to be alright. That piqued Anna’s curiosity more, but she shoved it down. Anna then smiled and crinkled her eyes, caught between conflicting emotions and genuine gladness. Only the gladness was allowed to shine through.
“Hey you, you’re finally here.”
“Hey, I’m here.”
Such a simple statement. And yet it sucked the wind out of Anna. The lack of enthusiasm hurt, but she was determined to spend this time well. They greeted each other with a simple peck on the lips.
__________________
What a fool she had been to not say anything then. Should she have called her sister out to prevent what was to happen next? No, that probably would have escalated the conflict sooner than it had. The conflict was inevitable by then. Maybe if they… no. No ‘maybe’s or ‘what if’s. She had to figure out what to do next.
The letter was her hint. Elsa did not want to stay for long, likely because she tired easily of human contact. That had been established. But why did she say nothing in that case? Why did she always shield herself behind excuses of being busy and implications but never statements of how she felt? That wasn’t fair. She’d done her best to interpret them.
No, that wasn’t fair at all. Heat rose unbidden to Anna’s face and her teeth bared themselves in fury as her brow furrowed deeply. How dare she, how dare she! This was not Anna in its entirety! She made mistakes, yes, but so had Elsa! At least she was willing to think back and change her poor behavior!
She wanted to scream again, to shout, to beat her fists against something in fury. Stomping, pacing, clenching her hands until they hurt. It almost felt cathartic to imagine it, but she maintained composure. An adult did not throw fearsome tantrums.
But now her upset morphed into rage and the thoughts spilled into her mind. It wasn’t right that she always blamed herself. It wasn’t right that Elsa never communicated and always locked herself away. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and she ought to be allowed negative emotion, oughtn’t she?
‘You know that’s unhealthy. But it’s fair, it had to be fair.’
But it wasn’t, she had the right to be angry, right? Elsa may have thought she was doing the best she could, but she hadn’t. Couldn’t she see how much that hurt the people around her? How much it hurt her? She reached out again and again to her sister, trying to help, trying to care, and how many times had it been rejected?
Who else then, could she have blamed? Certainly not her parents. They weren’t the ones who were seemingly mysteriously shunned. They weren’t the ones who were faced with the prospect of being trapped in a gilded cage after being given a taste of freedom.
Spreading blame was wrong, she knew this. It was worthless in such a hapless event like their childhood. But she couldn’t help but have her heart rate rise at the mere thought of Elsa’s actions recently. She ought to know better!
It simply wasn’t fair. It was not fair. She did her best. Elsa withdrew. She tried to find out what was wrong. Elsa withdrew. Was there nothing she could do that didn’t involve driving her away? And in that instant, less than a fraction of a fraction of a second, she hated Elsa for everything that happened.
The moment ended and she was struck with a bitter sting of remorse that left her insides twisted and hollow. Hatred wouldn’t fix their relationship. Anger wouldn’t either. Neither would self-pity nor self-hatred. The only thing that could fix this was reflection and work. So reflect she would.
__________________
Everything had been going so well. Despite her initial misgivings, Elsa seemed to mellow out and allow herself to be swept up in the games. Anna forgot her concerns and they played, all of them, as a group. When was the last time they had been able to do this? Spend time all together, embrace, and lose herself in Elsa’s arms? When did it become so that their relationship oft lacked such basic touch?
What had gone so wrong?
It mattered not. She enjoyed every stroke from Elsa, every cuddle. She stroked Elsa’s jaw, Elsa played her fingers on the nape of Anna’s neck. The sensation was electrical. They continued such touches throughout the lovely evening and until it was time for Elsa to go.
Already, Anna ached for the phantom comforts from Elsa, but she walked her to the main hall. There, they spotted black clouds lying in ambush above, and waiting for them to leave.
They spoke the fateful words, Elsa being the one to ring the fatal doom-toll.
“It looks ready to storm outside.”
“Huh, you think?”
“Yeah, look.”
“Mmm. Does that mean you’ll stay longer?”
“Stay longer?”
“Yes, stay longer.”
__________________
Anna couldn’t help but wince at those words. They circled themselves, round and round in her head. Rumination they called it, but she knew that they would not leave her until her dying day. Powerful was the pain of hypotheticals.
She should have known something was wrong when Elsa became increasingly less receptive to contact. Maybe she should have known something was worse when she openly snuggled. But that didn’t make sense. Elsa had never been reluctant to express love, even if it was difficult at times.
Contact, she suspected, may have been linked with the frequency of seeing her. Elsa’s visits stopped up as if they had become increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like being around her was the issue, even though it clearly was. It seemed that Elsa was reluctant to come, but glad to stay for a time.
‘But not for longer,’ her brain reminded her.
No, not for longer. That much was clear now. It was upsetting, but she also understood that it must have been one of Elsa’s boundaries that she had broken. Of course it was. She should have known from before. It almost felt like a minefield, blinded as she was from communication.
She breathed out as she understood. They needed to talk. What mattered is that they talked.
__________________
When Elsa said no, Anna couldn’t help but ask and wheedle for her to stay. Both out of a desire to see her for longer and because it concerned her to see Elsa in what was likely to be a massive storm. It wasn’t like the forest had a roof, and Ahtohallan caused her more worry than not.
Elsa grew increasingly frustrated to the point where they broke into a shouting match. Anna didn’t know whose voice raised first, or why they began shouting anymore. She had run the memory so ragged and remembered it so much that it was hardly more than a blur.
Still, she could remember the intense emotional pain that came with it, raw and jagged. The upset was so severe that she felt sick mid-argument, wishing for anything else, anyone else to be there. The build-up had boiled over and all came crashing down.
At the same time, the clouds decided to drop their heavy yokes and loose the rains upon them. The crash of thunder and flashes of lightning punctuated their furor. They threw insults and upset word, uncaring of the consequences. In that moment, the only objective was to hurt as much as possible.
Nobody intervened, as they let the fight play out. In the end, Elsa stormed out into the heavy rains as Anna called her name with increasing hysteria. She crumpled to the ground in defeat as her senses and rationality returned to her.
__________________
It hurt to remember, she didn’t want to. Anna longed to take the memory and shove it away so that she might be spared the pain and embarrassment of her own childish actions. But that too would be childish, so she instead reflected on it.
Her behavior was wrong. She behaved poorly and broke boundaries in the relationship. Realistically, Elsa should have left her for such things and didn’t. That much was true. Anna had to learn from her mistakes and remake herself into a better person. Someone who could love Elsa without hurting her.
But Elsa wasn’t an angel either. She had failed to communicate. Her silence was inasmuch a sin of inaction as Anna’s was of action. She could not know she had done wrong until she was told by Elsa. Dropping only hints and then blowing up at a person when they misinterpreted them was also wrong.
Anna sighed. She may have been able to recognize that it was not solely her, but she had no control over Elsa either. What she did have control over was herself, and she intended to do the next right thing. What more could she do?
Love took work, and True Love doubly so. She had made a mistake, but she would not cower from her burden. No, she would not do that, not to Elsa. She would fix this, somehow. She would find a way to communicate with her, to reach the same level, and intended to work with her to improve what they somehow broke.
Anna’s heart clenched as she realized that it all balanced on one thing. That Elsa would be willing to extend her hand and meet her halfway. She would do all she could, but there was a very strong possibility that it wouldn’t happen.
It would hurt terribly. She knew that they could have ruined everything forever, and she would have to live with that. Could she live with that? Yes, she had to. For her people, and most of all for herself. Even the largest jagged wounds could heal. But she hoped against hope that Elsa felt the same way.
It seemed an uncertain given with their true love. Of course they would heal, that is why their love was true. But the damage they had unwittingly done due to their inherent differences was large. Could they? It had to be.
But she didn’t have time to think about it any longer. It was time for court to be held, and she would address her problems later. Now the time came for Queen Anna to rule wisely and compassionately. That was a queen’s duty to her people.
As the doors opened to the first petitioner, Anna saw their silhouette.
“…You?”
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
A gift for @jaskierbatey for @thewitchersecretsanta. I tried to fit as much of your wish list in as I could. Happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy!!!
--
Geralt walked into the saloon and let the giant centipede’s mandible thud loudly on the floor. The chatter in the room stopped, except for the soft sounds of banjo strings, which belonged to a young man who either had a death wish or simply couldn’t take a hint. Regardless, the saloon owner rushed over to inspect Geralt’s offering.
“There were three of them,” Geralt grunted. “Your land should be fine now. No more disappearances.”
“And...the missing?”
“Their bodies are there. You can do with them what you wish. Though I wouldn’t send those with a weak stomach. Sorry.”
The man nodded solemnly and pulled a coin purse from his side. Geralt took it from him and counted out the coins carefully, ensuring the amount was all they’d agreed on. When he determined it was satisfactory, he nodded and turned on his heel. The sooner he could find an inn and get centipede guts off of him, the better.
The next day, he woke early and prepared to get back on the road. A witcher’s life was certainly not a sedentary one, and with so many people traveling West and fucking up the natural wildlife, it had become unusually lucrative. People were desperate and while Geralt didn’t normally like to capitalize on those too down on their luck, he was happy to take the coin of those whose own greed led them to do stupid things like building a town next to the burrowing grounds of a bunch of giant centipedes.
He finished getting Roach ready and was leading her out of the stable when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He tensed and turned, wanting to see what unfortunate soul decided to try and rob a witcher.
“Oh! That...is a big sword. I’d ask if you were happy to see me, but, ah, you don’t seem the type to buy into that kind of humor.”
“Hmm.”
“Who am I, I hear you asking! My name is Jaskier and-”
“Don’t care. Fuck off.”
He started to walk away, but heard determined footsteps behind. “You should care. I feel if we put our talents together, we could both come away very rich.”
“Not interested.”
“You seemed very interested in that coin purse earlier.”
Geralt rolled his eyes and turned to face the man. “What I’m interested in is getting paid to do my job. Not whatever hare brained scheme you’ve cooked up. I kill monsters. I get coin. There’s nothing you can do to help with that.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, witcher. See, I have acquired a good deal of stories in my time, and witchers are full of stories. But people don’t like witchers, do they?”
“If this is what being liked gets me, I’ll take my chances.”
Undaunted, the man continued. “I could help you! Spread word of your tales, sing your praises. Increase your coin. You think you got a good deal from that saloon owner? There’s dozens out there like him, just as stupid, who would pay double that for the same job, if only they had a little nudge from yours truly.”
Geralt scoffed. “You’re how old? What would you know about people?”
“Quite a lot, thank you very much! And I’m 19. But I listen. People aren’t that difficult to read when you learn how to listen.”
“And you do?” Geralt asked, leaning against the side of the stall.
“I have to. It’s part of the trade.”
“Hmm.” Geralt eyed him, taking in this strange man in front of him. Eventually, he turned back to Roach. “Fine. Come along. It’s your funeral.”
--
Months passed and somehow, it was not Jaskier’s funeral. Geralt assumed he would get tired of walking, of not having a warm bed at night, of only having Geralt for company, but some stubbornness must have edged out his discomfort. And Geralt knew he was uncomfortable- he complained constantly, but each night, he settled around the campfire, playing softly while rabbit or squirrel cooked over the fire and listened while Geralt told his stories in halting, sporadic thoughts.
He hated to admit it, but it was nice, having someone to share the road with. Most of the time.
Whenever they traveled into town, however, he was reminded of what an absolute pain Jaskier could be. All he wanted was a drink before heading back to the inn they were staying at and preparing for the next day’s hunt. Instead, he was treated to the sight of Jaskier making himself at home next to a group of women close to the bar. It shouldn’t bother him. It didn’t bother him. It was Jaskier’s job to ingratiate himself to whoever came along, charm them. Jaskier told him time and time again that what he had with those people was never personal, strictly business.
It was easier, then, to understand that what he and Jaskier had was also strictly business. It shouldn’t bother him. And yet, every time he saw Jaskier spend the night with another, only to return triumphant with an expensive trinket or swiped bundle of coins, he felt an ache deep in his bones.
It hurt, to be just another transaction. A means to an end. He might not pay Jaskier, or afford him any trinkets to sell or hoard, but he provided shelter, food, companionship between beds. That was all he would ever be.
He made his way over to the bar, grunting his assent when the barkeep offered him a drink. As she handed it to him, she leaned her elbow on the counter and looked at him.
“Drowning your sorrows over something in particular, witcher?”
“I’m drinking alone.”
She snorted and he glowered. Not many humans were willing to provoke him (except Jaskier), but she had clearly seen enough rough folk to not be cowed by him. “I can see that.”
“Hmm,” he intoned, hoping she would take the hint and end the conversation there. Unperturbed though, she pressed on.
“Seems you don’t have to. That one keeps glancing at you.” She inclined her head slightly and he could see that she was referring to Jaskier. He rolled his eyes.
“He’s a friend.”
“Just a friend?”
“Mmm.”
She nodded slowly. “See, I’d believe that. But I’ve tried to make enough men jealous myself to know the look.”
“Hmm.”
She clicked her tongue. “Not the chatty type. I get it. But think about what I said.” She turned back to other patrons and left Geralt to ruminate on what she’d said.
Eventually, the night wore on and he decided it was time to take his leave, before the truly unruly patrons started to act up. He glanced back at Jaskier, who gave him a smile before turning back to his latest conquests. Satisfied that he would be fine until morning, he headed back to the inn to try and get some rest.
--
He did not, in fact, get the sleep he was looking for, but instead sat and restlessly tried to avoid thinking about the barkeep’s words. There was no reason for Jaskier to try and make him jealous. If he wanted Geralt, he had plenty of opportunities when they were alone to make a move. He wasn’t shy about going after what he wanted. Geralt thought himself in circles, but they all led to the same conclusion.
Sometime before the sun rose, he heard Jaskier fumble in. “Geralt? Are you awake?”
“I am now,” he grumbled, despite not actually being asleep.
“Good, good. Do you want to see what I got?”
“No.”
“Wonderful.”
He sat heavily at the edge of Geralt’s bed, shoving his feet aside to make room. He smacked Geralt’s leg until he looked at him, practically punching him in his fervor to show Geralt the ring on his finger.
“Are congratulations in order?”
“No, you ass. But it is pretty, isn’t it?” Jaskier looked down to admire it. It was simple, adorned with a modestly sized opal.
Geralt sighed. “Stealing people’s weddings rings seems like a new low, even for you.”
Jaskier scoffed. “I didn’t steal them! I can’t help it that people like to give me nice things. Besides, if you’re mean to me, I won’t give you your present. Close your eyes.”
Geralt did so against his best judgement and felt as Jaskier put something small in his hand.
“Okay. Open.”
He opened his eyes and found a small gold band in the center of his palm.
Jaskier’s eyes shone. “Just think. If we wear them and act like we just got married, they might give us a free room! Or...a room upgrade at least. It’s great, right?”
Geralt swallowed.
“Or…” Jaskier backtracked. “We could melt it down? I’m sure we’d get money for the gold?”
“Fine. Whatever you want to do.”
“Geralt? Did I...offend you?” He bit his lip. “Look, I know you would never actually marry me. This is just...a con. But, if even the thought of it offends you, I’ll...I won’t bring it up again.”
“It’s fine.”
Jaskier tapped nervously on his thighs. “Geralt, please. I don’t want this to get in the way of our friendship. If you want me to go…”
“I don’t.”
“Okay. Well, that’s a relief. Then why won’t you look at me?”
Geralt sighed. He wasn’t like Jaskier, couldn’t say what he wanted to say and make it all fit together somehow. His words were stilted, difficult.
“I don’t want to pretend.”
“I already told you, Geralt, we don’t have to do that if you don’t-”
Geralt moved forward to kiss Jaskier, who just let out a surprised ‘oh’ against his mouth. He didn’t pull away though, relaxing into Geralt’s touch. After a moment, he pulled away, looking for something he couldn’t name in Jaskier’s eyes. Acceptance? Joy?
“That...yeah. We can...you want to? With me?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be the wordsmith?”
Jaskier glowered at him. “The man I’ve been hopelessly in love with for months just kissed me. Forgive me for not recovering immediately.”
“You- months?”
“You didn’t know? Geralt, I’ve been making moves for months? You really didn’t notice?”
“...no.”
Jaskier huffed a laugh. “Well. Then let me make myself abundantly clear. I like you. I would like to do this and other things with you in the future. If you would like.”
“I would...like. That.”
“Perfect,” Jaskier said, leaning in to capture Geralt’s lips again.
After a while, Jaskier lay on Geralt’s chest, and Geralt felt the first threads of sleep calling him. Before he could though, he heard Jaskier speak up again.
“So, does this mean that we can do the marriage con?”
“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”
“Fiiiiiiine.”
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
Live a Little
My piece for Day 2 of TGGTVAV Week! @tggtvav-week
Dreams | Historical AU | Side Character
(Read on AO3)
This party is giving me a tremendous sense of deja vu. It’s the after-party for this year’s Annual Sportspeople of the Year Awards. Monty and I were both nominated for Best Footballer and for Best Media Personality, whatever that even means. Neither of us won either. I don’t care, not really (The player that did win Best Footballer scored two-thirds as many goals as Monty this season… but again. I don’t care.)
The same old formal wear, the same faces. I feel like I’m always at this bloody party. I’m standing in a corner with Monty, who is frowning down into his alcohol-free cocktail. I give him a consolatory nudge.
“Next year.”
“Hmm?” He looks up at me, then laughs. “Oh god. I don’t care. I’m just wondering who on Earth came up with the idea of a virgin mojito.”
“You could always drink tap water, you know.”
“Thrilling.”
I roll my eyes and he sidles up to me, pressing himself against my chest so that he has to stretch his neck to look up at me.
“Let’s go hooooome.”
“Why do you even bother coming to these events if you get bored after an hour?”
“Because I get to see you all dressed up, mostly.” I laugh and he pouts. “Next time, we stay home, and you put on a tuxedo anyway.”
“That would be a waste. You’d take it off within minutes.”
“That’s the fun of it!”
I smirk and lean down to kiss his forehead. “We won’t stay late. It’s good for me to do the rounds at these things. For the Foundation.”
“I suppose,” he says with a sigh, but he doesn’t move away, just buries his face in my chest.
I smile and stroke his hair, then I look up as someone walks over— my heart sinks. Richard Peele. The only man on Earth who doesn’t manage to look attractive in a tux. I nudge Monty slightly and he stands up straight.
“Incoming,” I mumble as Richard approaches. Monty turns to see him, then swears under his breath.
“Boys!” Richard says, his grin as cocky as ever. His aftershave is overpowering. Not for the first time, I wonder how Monty ever hooked up with him without gagging.
“Richard,” Monty greets him, more politely than he deserves.
“Congratulations on your awards!” He fake gasps, clutching his hands to his chest. “Oh wait! You didn’t get any.”
“Peele…” I raise an eyebrow at him. “You weren’t even nominated.”
He shrugs. He looks drunk. “Wouldn’t have wanted a nomination. Whole thing is shit anyway.”
“Well, we’re agreed there.”
“So, what are you two doing hiding away in a corner? Up to no good? What’s the current favourite, Montague? Coke? Speed? I remember your speed phase fondly. You used to be able to go for—“
“Oh, piss off Richard,” Monty cuts in, trying to look unbothered. But I know he isn’t. “Don’t you have any actual friends to talk to?”
I put my arm around Monty’s waist, protectively, and he leans into me. Richard rolls his eyes.
���Got plenty of friends, thanks. Just wanted to check in on everyone’s favourite couple.”
“Well, now you have.” I say, giving him a pointed look. “See you around.”
He curls his lip at me, stepping closer. He’s taller than Monty, but not taller than me. I have a couple of inches on him, but he’s clearly too wasted to be intimidated by this fact.
“You don’t scare me, Newton. We’re not on the pitch now. You can’t accidentally elbow me in the face this time.”
No, but I can definitely punch you on purpose, I think to myself.
I don’t say anything. He huffs, then turns to Monty. “If you ever get bored of this fairy,” he points to me. “And fancy a go with a real man again, you’ve still got my number.”
Monty blinks at him. “I’ll bear that in mind. Cheers.”
Richard gives him a leery look up and down, before giving me one last glare, then stalking away. I can feel Monty’s shoulders tense up where he’s leaning against me, and I’m not much better myself, so I take a deep breath and try to relax.
“Christ. He’s like a cartoon villain.”
“Was he always that ugly?” Monty looks up at me. “I swear he didn’t used to be that ugly. I categorically do not sleep with ugly people.”
“Maybe your standards just got higher after you met me.” He laughs slightly. But it sounds stilted. I squeeze his waist. “Don’t let him get to you.”
“I’m not.”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
“Okay! I am. Slightly.” He sips his drink, pulling a face. “It’s hard not to be bothered when one of your most shameful regrets can walk and talk and embarrass you at parties.”
“He’s just someone you hooked up with. It’s not that big of a deal.”
He scoffs. “You look like you want to scream every time his name is mentioned.”
“Well… he’s…”
“Rude? Obnoxious? Untalented?”
“He makes you feel bad about yourself. I don’t like it.”
Monty pauses at that, reaching out and squeezing my hand.
“You’re the one he called a fairy.”
“Fairy and proud,” I say with a shrug. Monty laughs.
“I love you.”
“Love you, too.” I tug at his hand, pulling him away. “Let’s find you something less disgusting to drink”.
We’re standing at the bar, Monty trying to get the perfect selfie while the bartender makes our drinks. He leans into me, trying to get my face into the photo and I smirk.
“Aren’t people bored of seeing me on your Instagram?”
“Why would anyone ever get bored of seeing this face?” He gently bites my cheek, taking another few photos, then finally brings the phone down to review the results. “God, we’re hot.”
I laugh. “Is that what you’re captioning it?”
He starts typing. “Well, now I am.”
I grin and nudge him, then frown when I spot something on the bar a small distance away. A set of keys. I reach over and grab them.
“Someone left their keys.”
“Mmm,” he replies, still busy making his post. “Hand them in.”
I shrug, about to get the bartender’s attention, when Monty glances up then gasps, grabbing my arm.
“Wait.” He snatches the keys from me. “Look!”
He holds them up in front of my face and I frown. “What?”
He huffs, then points at the car key. It has a very tacky leather tag hanging off it, with a gaudy metal Lamborghini logo.
“These are Peele’s car keys!”
I laugh. “God, he really is drunk. We should probably keep hold of them so he doesn’t try to drive home”
Monty winces slightly, and I immediately feel bad, but then he shakes it off. “Don’t you see what an opportunity this is, Perce?”
I give him a look. “Opportunity?”
“Yes! We have that prick’s car keys!” He looks at them, sighing happily. “His beloved Lamborghini.”
I laugh. “And?”
“And! We could play all sorts of tricks on him. We could break into it. Leave his lights on. Drain his battery.”
“You are truly wild.”
He huffs. “Well, what’s your suggestion?”
“My suggestion was handing them in!”
He rolls his eyes, dumping them on the bar again and returning his attention to his phone. I pick up the keys, turning them over in my hands, and I think back to ten minutes ago, when Richard dragged his eyes over Monty’s body. My Monty’s body. Suddenly the need to piss him off is overwhelming.
Why do I always have to be the sensible one?
“However…” Monty looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. “I have always wanted to drive a Lamborghini.”
* * * *
We manage to sneak out without drawing too much attention (and without spotting Richard), taking the lift to the car park beneath the building.
His car isn’t hard to spot. Bright yellow amongst the sea of silver and white Mercedes and BMWs. We walk over to it and Monty looks unimpressed, leaning down to scrub at a little scuff with his sleeve.
“This car is a midlife crisis.”
I laugh. “He’s 26.”
“Well, it’s definitely compensating for—“
“I don’t want to know,” I cut in, leaning down to look in the windows. “I think it’s gorgeous.”
“Really?” He folds his arms, tilting his head at the car. “It’s no Porsche.”
“I swear you love that car more than you love me.”
“Absolutely not.” He walks over and leans down to where I’m crouching to kiss me on the cheek. “But it’s a close second.”
I smile, then hold up the keys. “So? Shall we?”
He frowns. “You were serious?”
“Why not?”
“Well, for a start… you can’t drive, Perce.”
I scoff, pressing the key unlocking the doors. “I’ve had some lessons. And I haven’t had a seizure in a year. Anyway, it’s an automatic. How hard can it be?”
I start to climb into the driver’s seat and Monty grabs my arm. “Perce!”
“Come on!” I grin at him. “Live a little.”
He furrows his brow, but then lets me go, and I slide into the seat, pulling the door shut behind me. A couple of moments later, Monty opens the passenger door and climbs in, mumbling to himself.
“I’ve lived plenty. This is just stupid.”
I look around the car, taking it in. Monty’s car is gorgeous, but this is next level. Every bell and whistle included. It’s a shame it smells like Richard’s pungent aftershave.
I put the key in the ignition and Monty flinches.
“Are you sure, baby?”
I start the engine, and then I grin at him. It must be contagious, because after a pause, he grins right back at me.
“Go on then,” he says, with a resigned shrug. “Show me what you can do.”
I surprise myself. Driving is… surprisingly easy? And this thing can go fast. The roads are thankfully quiet, and I’m pretty sure I’m speeding, but the adrenaline rush is impossible to deny.
Monty is watching me, laughing at the look on my face as I narrowly avoid hitting another kerb. Okay, maybe driving is sort of hard.
“Jesus, Perce!”
“Oops.”
“I hope you’re enjoying your little crime spree. It might be the last thing we ever do.”
I laugh. “Oh, he’s wankered. We’ll take it back in a minute and he won’t even know it was gone.”
“True. As long as you don’t—“ He gasps as I very barely avoid scraping someone’s wing mirror at the side of the road. “Damage it!”
“I won’t!”
“You know what, I resent that you’ve turned me into the reasonable one tonight, but I think I should probably drive us back. Just in case.”
I pout at him. “Five more minutes? Oh, wait! I have an idea.”
I take a left, so sharply that Monty has to grab onto the car door to keep his balance. He shoots me an annoyed look, but I don’t acknowledge it. I’m trying desperately to remember a certain spot I know of around here, and I think I’m vaguely headed in the right direction.
Monty stops trying to object. I think he’s enjoying this really— watching me cut loose a bit. I glance at him and he bites his lip, giving me that look that usually ends with at least one of our trousers around our ankles. I look back out of the windscreen and grin to myself when I see what I was looking for.
I pull up in a parking spot, braking far too aggressively, and we both jolt forward.
Monty takes a long, deep, relieved breath as I put on the handbrake.
“See? No one died.”
“I’m definitely driving us back.”
I shrug, then motion out of the window. “Do you recognise this?”
“It’s a hill, Perce.”
I frown. “It’s Primrose Hill. Remember? We had a picnic here.”
He pauses, then smiles. “This is where you asked me to move in with you.”
“Yep!”
He looks at me. “Baby, you really are a wonder. Combining a bit of grand theft auto with a romantic trip down memory lane.”
I laugh. “The duality of Newton.”
“This is very sweet.” He reaches out and squeezes my knee, giving me a fond look. “Thank you.”
“I just… I don’t like it when people drag up your past. Like it’s all you are. You’re… this. You’re picnics, and house keys, and romance. You’re all of it.”
He swallows, looking surprised. “Baby…”
“Don’t let anyone ever convince you otherwise, okay? Especially not Richard sodding Peele.”
He nods, and his eyes look a little wet, then he reaches for my hand, holding it up to his lips and kissing my fingers. “Okay.”
We share a smile, then Monty turns away. I stare at him. He takes a while to notice, too busy gazing out of the window. When he finally turns back to me, he starts slightly.
“What?”
“Did you and him ever…?”
He frowns. “I thought we’d already established this, darling.”
“No. I know.” I nod towards the backseat. “In here?”
He turns a little red, then looks away again, which is answer enough.
“Great. Nice.”
Monty huffs, looking at me with a sheepish look on his face. “Only a blowjob or two...”
I roll my eyes, tapping my hands on the steering wheel and staring out at the view in front of us for a few seconds. Then I shrug.
“Then we’ll just have to do more than that. Won’t we?”
He pauses, then frowns. “Eh?”
I lean over the centre console and take his face in my hands, kissing him. After a brief pause, he sighs against my lips and kisses me back harder.
“You really—“ he speaks between kisses, breathless. “Want to?” He stops to nip at my jaw. “Right here?”
I groan. “More than anything.”
“Revenge shag?”
“Revenge shag,” I confirm, starting to pull his shirt out of where it’s tucked into his trousers.
“There’s…” He sighs as I start to kiss his neck. “People could see.”
I bite down slightly and he gasps. “The windows are blacked out.”
“There’s not much room.”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
He gasps as I find the lever on his chair, pulling it until he’s practically horizontal, and then I clumsily clamber over onto his lap, my legs either side of his.
He laughs in surprise, putting his hands on my thighs. “What the hell has gotten into you tonight?”
“Nothing.” I grin. “Yet.”
After, I lie on Monty’s chest and I can feel the dopey smile on my face. He’s gently twisting one of my curls around his fingers as we catch our breath.
“That was fantastic,” I say with a sigh. It’s stating the obvious. It’s always bloody fantastic.
He kisses the top of my head. “Obviously.”
I look up at him. “Better than Peele?”
“Peele who?”
I laugh. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I. Never heard of him.”
“Damn right.”
I lean up to kiss him and he gently strokes my cheek, then we both jump when we hear a buzzing sound. Monty grimaces, fumbling around on the seat around us trying to find his phone.
“Who calls people?” He finds it and holds it up. “Ooooofe.”
He grimaces and turns the screen to me. Peele is calling. There’s an eye-roll emoji next to his contact name.
I grimace back at him. “Shit. Why would he be calling you?”
“Perhaps because he pissed us off and then his car disappeared?���
“Should you answer it? Maybe you should answer it.”
He scoffs. “And say what? Oh, your car? Yes, we stole it and just did something filthy on the expensive leather.”
“Well, no. You can lie. I’m pretty sure you’re capable of lying.”
“Ouch! True. But ouch.” He takes a deep breath, then answers. “Richard!”
I hear muffled, angry talking. Monty bites on his lip to stop from laughing, before trying to get a word in between the ranting.
“Richard, I— What do you mean? Which car?” The muffled talking gets louder and Monty grins. “Oh, that car! Well, how did you manage to lose that? Seems pretty irresponsible.”
“Very careless,” I whisper in agreement.
Monty puts a hand over my mouth, still smiling, then suddenly his face falls. “Tracking device?”
My eyes widen. Shit. Shit shit. Of course, there’s a tracking device. This car is top-of-the-range ridiculous.
“Well, that’s good then.” Monty continues, somehow managing to sound calm and collected. “You’ll find it easily. Good luck!” He hangs up. “We need to get out of here. Immediately. He’s waiting for a cab and he knows where the car is”
I scramble off of him as quickly as I can, climbing back into the driver’s seat and looking for my clothes. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Monty does the same, laughing. I shoot him a look.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. Panicking. Naked.”
I find this shirt and throw it at his face. “Twat.”
I find my boxers and pull them on, and Monty picks his own up from where they were discarded in the well of the passenger seat. I suddenly have a thought, and reach out to grab his arm before he can pull them on, too.
“Wait.”
I snatch them from him and he gives me an extremely confused look. I lean over into the back seat and place them on the leather, stretching them out so that they’re nice and displayed.
“A departing gift for our gracious host.”
Monty cackles, throwing his head back. “You’ve completely lost your mind.”
I grin at him. “Is it a problem?”
He pulls me in for a wet, sloppy kiss. “Absolutely not. Now come on.” He pushes me away again and starts pulling on his suit trousers. “We have to clear out of here before—”
There’s a sudden, loud sound, like fabric ripping. We both freeze. I look down and see that the button of Monty’s trousers has caught on the corner of the passenger seat. The leather has torn dramatically, showing the foam underneath. Turns out even the most expensive, luxury cars are no match for Monty’s clumsy streak.
I look up at him. “Before what, love?”
He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Well, this has turned into a very expensive night out.”
“We can afford it.” He opens his eyes, then narrows them at me. “I’m aware that’s not the point.”
“This was your idea, you know. You decided to have a naughty streak, and now we have to buy— No. Actually. You have to buy Richard bloody Peele a new car.”
I scoff. “It’s just a little rip. It’s not like we’ve trashed it.”
And then… I picture it; Richard, hopping in an uber to where his little tracking device is pointing him, furious, that spiteful face all red and flushed. He gets here and Monty and I are long gone, his beloved Lamborghini is… trashed. The windows are smashed. The seats are ripped to shreds. And Monty’s Tom Ford pants are on the backseat.
I smile.
“We should trash it.”
Monty laughs, pulling on his shirt. “I’m cutting you off. No more carnage. We’re going to go home, you’re going to have one of your sad little sleepy teas, then we’re going to bed.”
“Montttyy,” I whine, and he gives me an incredulous look. “It’ll be funnnn!”
“Of course it would be fun! It would also land us in prison.”
“No one would know it was us!”
He points to the underwear on the back seat. “Have you never seen CSI?”
“Since when were you such a spoilsport?”
He stares at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge, then slowly reaches down and tugs at the rip in the seat, making it even wider.
“Oops.”
I grin, turning around in my seat and looking for something to break. I look back forward, spotting the rear view mirror, then I lean up and grab it, yanking at it hard until it snaps off in my hand.
Monty gapes at me.
“Holy shit.”
I grin at him. “Shall we see what else we can break in the next five minutes?”
The answer is quite a lot, apparently. The seats are torn to shreds. The dashboard is cracked. Monty has scraped a key all along the exterior. And I’m currently working on burning holes in the leather seats with the dashboard lighter, still wearing nothing but my underwear.
Suddenly, I hear a very high pitched shriek. I abandon the lighter and scramble out of the car to check on Monty, who was halfway through trying to pull off one of Richard’s wiper blades. He’s now ducked down, hiding behind the bonnet of the car. I quickly join him.
“What?”
“He’s here! I just saw an uber.”
“Shit. How did he get here so quickly? Maybe we were shagging longer than we thought?”
He hisses at me. “Not really relevant right now, Perce. More worried about getting out of here without him seeing us.”
I grimace. “I left my clothes in the car.”
“Then I guess you’re streaking. Come on.”
He quickly glances over the hood of the car, then once he decides the coast is clear, he grabs my hand and pulls me up.
And then we immediately collide with Richard Peele.
He seems to have snuck up from the other direction and well… he doesn’t look terribly happy.
“What—“ He’s so angry, he can barely get his words out. “In the name of fu—“
“Richard!”
God bless Monty for attempting to be charming, even at a time like this.
“Awful news! Someone was trying to damage your car. Me and Percy scared them off.”
“How stupid do you think I am, Montague?”
“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”
Richard hisses through his teeth, stepping closer to Monty, and I decide it’s time to intervene, standing in front of him protectively. .
“Don’t even think about it.”
He curls his lip, looking me up and down. “Why are you naked?” He glances back at the car, then at me again, his face turning white. “Did you two...“
I smirk. “Twice.”
(It’s a lie. But he doesn’t need to know that.)
He looks like he wants to throw up. Then he pulls back his fist— but he’s still tipsy, and his reflexes are slow. So, I take a step back to dodge his punch, before reeling my own fist back to throw one of my own.
It connects with his nose. Hard. Kickboxing is one of my favourite workouts and I’m twice as strong as he is. The result being that his nose starts to bleed instantly and he staggers backwards. Monty yelps behind me.
“Shit!”
He tries to pull at my arm but I ignore him.
“Not bad for a fairy, right Peele?”
“Perce!”
“Monty, it’s fine.”
“No! Percy! The car!”
He pulls my arm even harder and I finally turn around. The car. The fucking car is on fire.
“Jesus! What happened?”
“Not sure, but shall we try and figure it out somewhere further away from the flaming car?”
I let him drag me away and we take off at a sprint. Richard isn’t far behind us, trying to keep up.
“The lighter,” I shout to Monty. “I dropped the lighter on the seat!”
The amount of serious crimes I’ve committed today is becoming difficult to keep track of. Car theft. Reckless driving. Public Indecency. Assault. And now apparently a bit of semi-accidental arson. But are they really crimes if the only victim is Richard Peele?
“Save it for court!” Monty replies.
When I think we’re a safe distance away, I stop, pulling Monty to me. We’re both gasping, out of breath. I hear Richard coughing nearby. He must have inhaled some smoke.
I ignore him, pushing Monty’s hair out of his eyes, then cupping his face in my hands.
“Are you okay?”
He takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”
I grin. “I’m amazing.”
He smiles back, exasperated. “You’re a lunatic is what you are.”
“I love you.”
He shakes his head, then puts his hand behind my neck, pulling me down into a kiss. I lean into it, my hands sliding to his waist and dipping him slightly, making him laugh against my lips.
And then… there’s a loud bang.
I don’t get the chance to glance over at the car before we’re being thrown into the air by the force of the explosion.
* * * *
I wake up with a flinch so huge that the bed shakes. I hear Monty groan next to me.
“Baby, what…?”
Jesus Christ, that was vivid. I can still smell the smoke.
Monty rolls over to face me with a huff. “Perce?”
“Sorry.” I rub my face. “Sorry, I was…”
“Dream?” he asks, mid-yawn.
I pause, then smirk. “Dream.”
He stares at me for a second, then snorts. “Oh god, not the car one again.”
“The car one.” I shuffle over to him, pulling him closer so that our noses are touching. “It was a good one. This time I punched him.”
He gives a sleepy laugh. “This dream almost makes me feel sorry for the man…”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Monty…”
“I mean. Your subconscious is regularly ruining his life! Just because he used to give your boyfriend the occasional hand job after a game…”
“Perhaps the next dream will be the one where I finally murder him.”
He laughs, leaning in to kiss me and placing his hands on my chest. “Your heart is still pounding.”
I blush. “It was fun. There was an explosion.”
He rolls his eyes. “We’re never watching Die Hard before bed again.”
I laugh, rolling on top of him and making him yelp.
#tggtvav#tggtvav week 2021#the gentleman's guide to vice and virtue#tggtvav fic#my fic#fic rec#fic writing#this is so silly#enjoy
10 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Kitsune Haunting
A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic, approx 2500 words, silliness and sort of scares?
First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden
Previous: A Fun Lesson
This fic is a little longer than most of my posts. This one was inspired by one little line in the game . . .When Mitsuhide and MC reach the Chugoku province, the chatelaine reflects on their trip (which we didn’t get to see!) - she mentions that one night, Mitsuhide ‘haunted’ her. If you like it, I might post a part 2 with additional shenanigans.
Mitsuhide listened to the whispers of the bamboo forest. He found it soothing. The music of wind and branch was so different from the hum of Azuchi. There were no human voices to interrupt his thoughts. No politics here, or plots. Only the endless sea of green, and the long shadows cast by the setting sun.
His little mouse did not look to be enjoying the ride as much as he. She kept turning her head at each clack and clatter. Her shoulders were tense too. Perhaps she feared bandits, he thought. Or something worse? His lips curled into a small, wicked smile.
“We’ll camp here,” he called to her when they reached a small clearing. The bamboo grew far enough apart to place their bedrolls, and to dig a small fire pit for cooking. But the leaves covered the red and gold of the sunset with their greenery, sliding slowly to black as the light left.
“Can’t we keep going? I thought we would be out of the forest before dark.” She hunched her shoulders and squinted at the dim-lit path ahead. “It’s probably not much further, right?”
Mitsuhide kept a straight face. “Perhaps, but I do not want to risk the horses. They could trip on a dark path, and we would be delayed.”
She sighed and nodded. “I didn’t think about that.” Then she dismounted stiffly. The chatelaine was unused to long rides, or riding in general. Though she didn’t complain, her discomfort showed in every stilted movement as she unbuckled her pack and began to unload the horse.
“I can do that,” Mitsuhide told her after a moment of watching this awkward dance. “You go stretch, try to get comfortable.”
His little one gave a grateful smile. “If you insist.” She stepped away from her horse and stretched her arms over her head. “I feel like my spine is half fire. If fire was steel. Bending it hurts.”
“Riding all day is hard at first,” he agreed as he removed the packs and saddles, and began to rub down the mounts. “You do get used to it eventually.”
“You must do this a lot.” She sounded a little jealous. “How long does it take to - to not feel like you were beaten with hammers at the end of the day?”
Mitsuhide shrugged. “I don’t remember when I stopped being bothered.” He glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned. “Maybe you can tell me the exact moment riding becomes comfortable?”
She frowned at him.
After the gear was unpacked and the horses cared for and fed, Mitsuhide dug a small fire pit and got out their rations. Onigiri tightly wrapped in a bamboo sheath. The rice was flecked with black sesame and filled with pickled plum. He handed her the travel food, knowing she would eat it even if she wished for something sweet.
“Thanks,” she said, resting back on the bedroll Mitsuhide laid out for her. “These aren’t bad. Did Masamune make them?”
“Yes.” He did not tell her Masamune tried to send them off with all sorts of experimental recipes for traveling. He’d turned them all down, opting for something quick and easy to eat, simple to pack. Besides, more elaborate food might break their cover if they were searched.
“His food is always so good,” she sighed. Her eyes were focused up, on the little glimpses of starry night sky.
Mitsuhide felt a stab of jealousy. He did his best to ignore it. His little mouse could taste things, so of course she preferred Masamune’s cooking. It meant nothing.
A loud crack interrupted the quiet. It sounded close. The chatelaine squeaked and reached for her pack, where she kept a small knife.
“Frightened?” It was normal to hear snapping branches at night, as animals prowled the forest. Sometimes it was just a stalk too old to stand against the wind. Whatever the cause, it wasn’t a human sound and so he was not worried.
His little mouse shook her head, chin jutting out defiantly. “No. But it could be a monkey or - or a bandit.”
He laughed softly, which did nothing to calm her down. “What if I told you I was sure it is neither of those things?”
“Why should I believe you?” Her temper was still hot.
“Mmm, because I have traveled this forest several times. And I can tell you for certain that no bandit would prowl here at night. Even the monkeys are wise enough to stay away.” An idea took form right then, a little piece of fun.
The red in her cheeks drained away as he spoke, leaving her pale. “W-what do you mean?”
Mitsuhide gave his crescent moon grin, all wickedness and sharp edges. “Because, little one, this place is haunted.”
“Heh, y-yeah. Now you’re trying to scare me on purpose! Stop teasing.”
“Oh? Then I won’t tell you why travelers avoid this place.” He finished his meal and stood.
The chatelaine watched him, her whole body tense despite her defiant attitude. “Where are you going?”
“I will check around the camp, and the path ahead. I want to keep you safe, even if you don’t believe there is danger.” He stepped silently outside the small circle of firelight. She watched him go without saying anything else. But she did pull the knife from her pack, setting it, still sheathed, beside her.
Her determination to be brave was adorable, but it made him want to tease her more. As he walked the perimeter of their tiny camp, he picked up bits of dead, dry bamboo stalks. He put a few holes in them, and with a bit of thread, hung them high in the branches. They began to catch the breeze almost immediately, adding a soft, low warble to the rustling leaves.
Then he went a bit further afield to a nearby pond - it was easy to find by the night sounds of the forest toads. He scooped up a large male and laughed softly as it wriggled in his hand. “Don’t worry. I am not going to eat you, gama. We are going to help each other tonight. I just need you to sing.”
The toad let out a long, rasping cry in response. Perfect. He loosed it a few feet from the chatelaine’s bedroll, where she sat staring at the fire, oblivious to his presence.
When he came back to camp, announcing his arrival with a purposefully loud step, she stood to greet him. “Oh! You- you were gone awhile. Everything ok?”
“I found nothing . . . unexpected.” He looked at her solemnly. “But I think we should both stay here, near the fire, until dawn.”
“You - you’re just taunting me. Is there anything out there or not?”
Mitsuhide sat down on his bedroll and stretched out his legs. From the darkness on her side of the camp, came a harsh croaking. It was loud and held for several heartbeats.
“Ah! What is that?” She spun to stare at the bamboo thicket.
“I was going to tell you but . . . you said to stop.” Mitsuhide shrugged. “Do you want to know or not?”
“I - yes. Please tell me.”
He regarded her with narrowed eyes. He could tell her heartbeat was fast, her eyes were wide. She pulled her mat closer to the fire pit.
“You must promise not to interrupt.”
His little mouse nodded.
“Good. Then I will tell you why wise travelers avoid this forest, especially at night. It was before I was born, when my parents were young. There was a Chugoku princess known through the nearby provinces for her extraordinary beauty and her cunning. Her father refused to marry her off to the many suitors that came to their castle, because he cherished her. His youngest child and only daughter. And he relied on her wise advice.”
The chatelaine opened her mouth to ask a question, but caught herself. He could tell she was trying very hard to abide by his request. She was so cute, holding her curiosity in, that he almost gave her a chance to speak.
“Eventually, of course, a young warrior came to court her. He was very handsome, and wealthy. The princess was quite taken with him, as were most of the women in the castle. From the princess’ maid, to her elder mother.”
“This sounds like a fairy tale,” his little mouse said.
Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow in disapproval.
She clamped a hand over her mouth.
“I will pretend you said nothing. As to the truth of this story, you may ask some of the older servants at the castle - they will tell you the truth of it. Some still live that knew the princess, her maid, and the young warrior.”
The chatelaine’s eyes grew wider, and as if planned, a gust of wind made the improvised bamboo pipes give a fluting wail.
“Now, as I said. All the women in the castle were taken with the young warrior, but none so much as the princess and her maid.” Mitsuhide looked out into the dark forest and gave a heavy sigh.
“The maid was as ugly as the princess was beautiful. A girl disfigured by a terrible burn. Her face was twisted into a grimace that marked her out from even the plain women of Chugoku. The princess was the only one to look past her scarring and see the intelligent, kind woman behind it. The two were inseparable, until that charming warrior came.”
His little mouse nodded, her hand still covering her mouth as if she was afraid she would speak again.
“Though no one knew it then, it was the maid that gave the wise advice everyone sought from the princess. She spent her time reading and watching, listening to people. She knew the town’s most closely held secrets. The princess relied on her knowledge and her spying. And so, when the maid fell in love with the warrior, she begged the princess to let her try and win his affection. She thought she was owed at least the chance to find love. The princess only laughed.”
Mitsuhide did his best to imitate a woman’s voice. “No one would love a girl as ugly as you. Now get to your room and stop asking me for the impossible! I will marry that warrior, and you will always be just an ugly, unwanted maid.”
His little mouse looked appropriately horrified by that cruelty.
“The maid told her, ‘If you don’t at least let me try to win his heart, I will tell everyone the true source of your wisdom. They will know you are nothing but an empty-headed doll. Pretty but stupid.’ Enraged, the princess beat her, and drove the maid from the castle.”
“And she came to this forest to live?” The chatelaine asked, unable to help herself.
Mitsuhide shook his head. “If only she had. No. After the maid left, the princess began to worry that the maid would tell everyone the truth. She devised a plan to stop her. The princess called the warrior to her room and began to weep. She claimed that the maid threatened to curse her. She said the burned girl was a witch, and that she was afraid for her life. The warrior was uncertain, but he wanted to win the heart of the beautiful princess. After drying her tears, he agreed to find the maid and take her to the forest, where he would slay her and bury her bones far from the castle. Then the princess could be safe. And in return, she would marry him.”
The forest toad rasped another desperate cry. His little mouse jumped at the sound, her head whipping around to look back at the bamboo grove. “C-can I come sit with you? While you finish the story?”
Mitsuhide nodded. He made a space for her beside him where she sat, her leg brushing against his.
“Now, the maid was no fool. She feared the princess would lie about her, but she could not believe the warrior would harm her. Especially when he came to her hovel and asked if she would walk with him, and talk. He seemed so sincere. She wanted to believe he came because he worried for her. The maid told him that it was her wisdom on the princess’ lips that made the beautiful girl famous.”
He slipped an arm around his little mouse, and remarkably, she only settled against him without a single word of protest.
“The warrior believed her. After all, witches have great wisdom. Knowing this did not change his plan. He brought the maid here, to this forest. The whole way, he listened to her talk about her life. Her dreams. She opened up her heart to him, believing he cared. It was only when the warrior told her to kneel before him that the maid realized what he intended to do. She begged for her life. She promised him anything he wanted, if only he would let her live. The maid told him that she loved him. Her words fell on deaf ears. The warrior saw only the princess’ beauty and wanted nothing to do with the wise but ugly maid.”
“Men are so stupid,” the chatelaine murmured.
“Sometimes,” Mitsuhide agreed, thinking of how he had been so easily ensnared by a pretty girl. “Stupid or not, the warrior cut off her head. Then he carried her body away from the well traveled path, and buried her in an unmarked grave. The princess waited for him, but when she felt it was taking too long, she slipped away from the castle and walked the forest path, looking for her love.”
“Oh no.” His little mouse breathed the words into his chest, her eyes half-closed.
The warlord smiled down at her. “You are right to worry. The princess met her warrior on his way back from burying the poor maid. He swept her into his arms, smearing her with blood and grave dirt. He told her it was done, and she was so excited that he had done her bidding, that she kissed him. And then the warrior laid her on the forest floor and made love to her.”
Mitsuhide shifted, definitely not thinking about taking his little one here, in this clearing. Not thinking about that at all.
“The maid’s spirit could not rest, not with such a violent death at the hands of the man she loved. And not after witnessing this final betrayal. She appeared before them, holding her head in her hands. She threw it at the princess, gnashing her teeth and wailing. The princess caught it, and died right there from fright. The warrior should have died then too, but the maid could not kill him. She still loved him. Instead, she cursed the warrior to a life of loneliness.”
“That is . . . so sad,” the chatelaine murmured. Her eyes were closed now, almost asleep.
“It is. The warrior returned to the castle, and found that all had turned against him. They say he died some years later, a lonely and bitter man whose heart was stone. The princess’ body was retrieved from the forest, but the servants that brought it back swore they heard weeping and gnashing teeth. And after that, many beautiful maidens disappeared in this place. The men that travel these roads say they hear the maid, still crying. Her teeth clacking together.”
Another gust of wind rattled the branches and sent low tones skirling into the night air.
His little mouse shivered. “N-none of that is true. It’s just a - a story.” Her sleepy voice sent a happy chill through Mitsuhide. He imagined she would sound like that early in the morning, waking before dawn to make love and then fall asleep again.
“Ah, it was told to me as a true story. But I have never feared these woods. Even if they are haunted by a maid that curses men to loneliness. I am already cursed.”
“Mmm, yeah,” the chatelaine agreed, “but I’m not. Can I . . . sleep next to you?” Her eyes opened a fraction.
“Of course. I would not want to lose you to a vengeful spirit.” Or anything else. He laid her down on his mat, and watched as she drifted off to sleep. Such folktales had their uses, he thought. Like frightening silly, sweet girls.
Next: Kitsune Dawn
#ikemen sengoku#ikesen mitsuhide#mitsuhide akechi#otome#otome guys#fanfic#fanfiction#ghost story#haunting
150 notes
·
View notes
Note
What about one where Jask and Reader are chillin and reader is absently kinda playing with his hair and rubbing his neck for a while, completely oblivious to the fact that she's hard-core turned him on until he mentions it? (Special request for Dirty Talking Jask please?)
Fandom: The Witcher
Pairing: Jaskier x Reader
Word Count: 1,599
Rating: E
Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock @kemmastan @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @amirahiddleston @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me
a/n: I hope there is a good quantity of Dirty Talk in here for you, nonny! xo
Your strong, nimble fingers worked at the tense muscles in Jaskier’s neck, enjoying the unusual chance to touch him like this. You hugged and danced but you’d never been able to really handle him, never been able to feel the muscles beneath your fingers or brush through the chestnut hair. He was sitting between your legs as you’d demanded he do when you saw how pained he was as he kept trying to rub at his neck. Every now and then your hands would snake up the long column of his neck and massage his scalp, really just an excuse to card your fingers through his hair. Your hands were warm and talented and your body pressed up against his as you relieved his pain only served to cause another, different kind of tension in his body.
You heard him make a sound that was something like a sigh though a bit huskier and lower and you pulled your hands away.
“Is that feeling alright?” you asked.
“Um. Yes, it may actually feel too good,” he replied.
“What do you mean? Do you… want me to keep going?”
“Well, that’s a hard question, if you’ll pardon the pun. Because, yes, I do, but also I don’t know if it’s right to let you continue without explaining the… full effect you’re having on my body,” his words were a bit stilted and you couldn’t tell if it was due to embarrassment or something else but you seized a hank of hair from the top of his head and gently tipped his head back with it until the back of it was resting against your chest, the pale blue eyes tilted to gaze up at you.
“What are you trying to say Pankratz?” you asked, your mouth quirked in amusement. He licked his lips and you were aware of the flecks of gold in his sky-blue eyes and the brush of stubble on his cheeks and you felt your breath catch in your throat as his eyes darkened and fell to your lips.
“I’m saying that your clever little hands have made me so desperately hard that it is taking all of my composure not to pull you onto my lap and return the favor,” he replied, his words enunciated clearly and slowly, heat burning across your face and through your body in their wake. You glanced over and saw the clear proof of his arousal straining against his trousers and your mouth went dry. He watched your eyes widen and a hungry look cross them and it only made him harder.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked, whispering the words in a way that wasn’t smug but endearingly eager. He knew it was pleasing, he knew how to please you, and he wanted so badly to prove it to you. Your mouth curled into a smile and when your eyes fell to his again he shifted his head, angling so he could reach your lips with his in a kiss that was a faint brush that bled into something deeper and slower and both satisfying and enticing. His tongue slid past your slightly parted lips and you moaned at the intrusion, your hand snaking around his waist.
“Fuck you taste good,” he murmured between kisses and you wondered what it be like to hear him speak those words between your thighs. You sighed heavily at the thought and at the soft, insisted caresses of his lips against your tongue, tongue laving at the crook. Your hand found his length and he bit into you, eliciting a yelp that turned into a moan as he kissed it better.
“You’re so good to me,” he purred into your ear, the breath hot against your skin, “You take such good care of me, Y/N.”
You stroked him through his trousers a bit more until you finally grew impatient with the barriers between you and worked at the laces. He helped you with them and when you reached in and withdrew it, gripping the warm, hard flesh of his cock in your hand, you weren’t sure which one of you moaned louder. He bucked into your hand as you stroked him and you marveled at how he could be so soft and so hard all at once, his skin velvety and a pleasure to touch.
“Gods you’re a marvel,” he breathed, “How long have you been wanting to do this?”
“So long,” you admitted, the weight of your long-repressed desire for him falling away.
“I’ve been an ass. I’ve wanted you desperately and now – fuck – now I have a small taste of what I’ve been missing I must have more. I want everything. I want all of you.”
He sat up suddenly and your hand fell away as he turned to face you. You reached for him again but he pinned your hand over your head with one of his, the other moving to your skirt.
“Do you want this?” he asked.
“Yes,” you said instantly, not quite sure what was in store but aching for whatever he would provide. He snaked his hand up your skirt and chuckled lowly as he brushed against your core.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he mumblined against your jawline, “Is that all from me? Just from touching me?”
“Yes,” you answered breathlessly, head falling against the tree as you bit your lip to keep from crying out as he pressed between the folds and brushed along your length, barely grazing the most sensitive part of you. He kissed at the spot where your teeth dug into your lip.
“Don’t,” he whispered, “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you. I need to hear you moan for me, to know that I’m making you feel good. You are so incandescently gorgeous when you whimper my name, Y/N.”
“Jaskier,” you sighed. You felt him smile against your lips as he pressed another kiss into them.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, “You’re such a good, filthy girl for me.”
Your weak knees parted further and he slid two fingers inside of you, pulling a guttural moan from you that made his cock twitch against your thigh.
“You’re so warm, I knew you’d feel good, I knew you would,” he sighed, fingers thrusting into you rhythmically as you writhed beneath his grasp. “Do you want more?”
“Y-yes,” you stammered out. His thumb brushed against your clit and you whined at the sensation and at the tender kisses he pressed against your lips and throat.
“Do you want more?” he asked again.
“Yes,” you said immediately, bucking up against him.
“What do you want, Y/N? I need you to tell me. I need to hear you say it.”
“I want… you,” you said, strangely coy about using the word. He chuckled and shook his head.
“I’m already yours,” he replied.
“I want your body.”
“It already belongs to you.”
“Fucking hell Jaskier you know what I’m saying,” you bit out. He pulled his hand away, leaving you feeling empty, and pressed it against your throat, pinning your head against the tree. You could smell your arousal on his fingers, your slick against your neck, and the warm labored breathing from his mouth as he leaned in close, ocean blue eyes stormy with lust.
“Use your words,” he ordered.
“I want your cock inside of me,” you replied, holding his gaze. You were rewarded with a look of pride and need in his eyes.
“Good girl,” he growled as he released your throat and gently aligned himself at your entrance before sitting back and guiding you over him. He let you sink slowly onto him, eyes squeezing shut tight at the feeling of your warm, went body enveloping his cock. Once he was inside of you, you spent no time waiting before going after what you wanted. You rolled hips, riding him in long, slow strokes and you relished the curses he muttered underneath his breath.
“Don’t hold back,” you said, echoing his earlier words in a way that was part teasing, part needing to hear how much he enjoyed your body.
“You feel so good wrapped around my cock,” he said, happily complying with your request, “Does it feel good, Y/N? Do I make you feel good?”
“Yes,” you breathed, pace quickening as you found the right angle, the familiar, delicious, coiling sensation rising in your body, “You feel so good Jaskier.”
Your words were lost to the gasping, keening sounds you made as you chased your release and when you came it was with Jaskier’s face pressed between your beasts and his hand stroking you to heighten your climax. He guided your hips, thrusting into you with single-minded focus and somehow when he used your body for his own pleasure it was even more exciting than when he focused on yours. You liked this hungry side of Jaskier, taking instead of giving for once, but true to form even as he brought himself to finish he pulled you into another of your own with his deft fingers yet again.
“Are you feeling more relaxed now?” you asked after he had pulled out of you and tenderly cleaned you up, pulling you into his arms to brush a tender kiss against your forehead.
“Mmm,” he hummed in reply, a satisfied smile on his lips, “Yes. I think you will find I am far quicker to agree to massages in the future.”
“Not all of them will end this way,” you lied.
236 notes
·
View notes
Text
AU-gust Day 16: Treasure Hunting
Requested by @justsomeoneunordinary for a Winterironfalcon AU! This one is a companion piece to my other oneshot, Marvels Unsolved
Also on ao3 here
~
“Hello, my lovelies!” Tony calls into the camera over the crunch of the gravel below their feet. “Every season Bucky and I do one episode where we go treasure hunting because he feels bad that he keeps making me hunt demons so this season, we’re in New Jersey where we’re looking for the treasure of Captain William Kidd.”
He stops, looks over at Sam, and says, “How’s that?”
Sam plays back through the recording, head tilted thoughtfully, and then nods. “Yeah that’ll do.”
They’ve done this take a couple times what with the issues of the wind and the rocks they’re walking over. They had tried it standing still but it had come off as way too stilted so they’d tried something else with Sam taking shots of them only from the waist up and both him and Bucky walking tiptoe to try to minimize the sounds of their walking. This time it must have worked.
Relieved, Tony drops back down to his feet. “Great,” he says emphatically.
“You can say that again,” Bucky mutters grumpily. “I’m not Natasha, Sam. I can’t walk like that forever.”
“If you wanted to do normal stuff, then you shouldn’t have become a ghost hunter,” Sam snarks back.
Bucky pauses. “Aw shit, am I a ghost hunter? Fuck, I am, aren’t I?” he laments. “Tones, babe, I don’t want to be a ghost hunter.”
He throws his arms around Tony’s waist and sobs noisily into his shoulder. Tony gives Sam an unimpressed look and pats Bucky’s shoulder. “There, there, do you want me to kiss it and make it better?”
“Yes,” Bucky says, perking up immediately. He uses his grip on Tony’s waist to pull him for a long, thorough kiss that has Tony moaning by the end of it.
“Don’t mind me,” Sam calls. “I’m still rolling over here.”
“Mmm that’s hot,” Bucky mutters into his ear. “Babe, we should make a sex tape.”
“We absolutely should not,” Tony says, wiggling out of his arms. He darts over to Sam and kisses him as well, just as long as Bucky’s had been though a little more chaste—Sam isn’t nearly as much of an exhibitionist as Bucky is.
“I bet our fans would pay for it.”
“I bet they would too and that’s exactly why we shouldn’t. Besides, we’d never be able to get Sam in it and I refuse to make a sex tape without him.”
Sam shrugs. “I’d make a sex tape with you. That loser on the other hand…”
He trails off as Bucky growls and lunges at him, pulling him in for a kiss just as thorough as the one he’d given Tony. Tony, for his part, just sighs happily and watches them. He’d never dreamed he would get to have it when he’d first found out Bucky and Sam were seeing each other but three years later, here they are and they’re happy, he’d never known he could be this happy.
“Alright, come on, we haven’t got all day,” he says eventually.
“We have actually,” Bucky points out as he breaks apart from Sam and joins him. “That’s literally the point of this.”
Tony glares at him. Bucky holds up an apologetic hand.
“Sam, you good back there?” Tony calls as they set back out along the beach.
“I’m good. I’m going to keep rolling,” he tells them, “while we walk. Footage for bloopers, ya know?”
Marvels had asked them a few weeks ago if they could start airing some of the unused footage since apparently, it was something that the fans wanted to see. They’ll still have to do some editing of the footage because Sam talks a lot more than what actually appears on the show but it’s not like they throw any of it away so there’s no reason they can’t keep the unused footage and make a blooper reel out of it.
“So tell me a little bit about the treasure,” Bucky says, picking his way over the rocks.
“You’ll hear most of it once we get there.”
“Yeah but it’s the only topic coming to mind unless you want me to talk about that thing Sam did with his tongue last night that made you scream.”
Sam chokes on a laugh and Tony hisses a scandalized, “Bucky!”
“I’m just saying, it was really hot and I want to see if you can make that noise again.”
“Fine!” Tony says, throwing up his hands. “Kidd’s treasure is under a lot of controversy and we’re going to gloss over a lot of it during the show so I’ll just tell you now. There’s been a couple different times where people think they’ve found the treasure—the Smithsonian even wrote an article about it back in 2015—but no one’s been able to definitively prove it’s his.”
“Why?”
“Because I guess underwater treasure hunting is a lot of guesswork. I don’t really know but there’s a pretty cool Nat Geo series about it that we could watch tonight.”
“Underwater treasure hunting or Captain Kidd?” Sam asks.
Tony looks back at him to say, “Underwater treasure hunting.”
Sam shrugs as he glances at Bucky to confirm, “Sounds fine.”
“No, not fine,” Bucky complains. “I was gonna see if Sam would do that tongue—”
“Bucky!” Sam and Tony both shout.
61 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
the-raindeer-king
Fuck it, we ball
alargerworld
Boy... Your world is certainly about to change
findoesstuf
Banana Cream Puddin’
fataiism
boyslut, manwhore
society-success-season
Untitled