#i should go for a walk instead of like slouching around
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a-ikuoliver · 29 days ago
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what do you MEANNNNNN i should take care of myself
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retrobutterflies · 8 months ago
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Little Dragon | t.n.
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Theodore Nott x Female!Reader
Summary: You are not a fan of one of his admirers and he thinks you are a pretty idiot.
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: Jealousy, Fluff, mentions of snow lol, a hint suggestive at the end if you squint
A/N: I haven't written in a while. This is just a fun little thing, an hors d'œuvre if you will.
Abigail was nothing if not brazen. It had taken you years to be comfortable in the presence of Slytherin's most exclusive group. For a while you didn't even realize Pansy Parkinson had considered you anything more than a suitemate let alone a friend until she hexed Lacy Cressilda for calling you bitch. And Draco Malfoy barely dignified you with anything more than a smirk until one night he was trashed out of his mind and proclaimed that he would help you hide a body should you ever need. You assured him you wouldn't.
It was only by 6th year did you feel fully welcomed into the friend group. Now instead of getting wary glances when you sat with them at dinner, you were getting indignant glances when you joined other friends of yours for a change of pace.
But seeing Abigail seat herself comfortably between Draco and Theo, smiling easily and joining into the conversation seamlessly made you falter. Abigail Thorn had never really interacted with your friends. Though she was a sixth year Slytherin, her group of friends never really crossed paths with yours. At least, not until last term when Abigail started sitting closer by in the great hall, tugging along unwilling friends, or switching seats with annoyed Hufflepuffs to sit next to one of you in Potions. And now, relaxing in the common room when mostly everyone else had slinked up to bed, she had found her way into the conversation, her friends long since retired. 
You watched her from your seat on the opposing couch. The fireplace was dousing the room in a dancing orange glow, illuminating smiling faces and slouched forms. Someone had tossed a cinnamon stick directly onto the firewood so the room smelled of autumn spices and smoke. Mattheo made a crude joke from his spot laying on the green-woven rug on the floor in front of the hearth and Abigail let out a laugh, leaned forward, and rested her hand on Theo's knee.
A swirling green monster crawled up your throat and wrapped its tendrils around your neck. Your eyes zeroed in on her hand, fingers flexing on the dark material of his pants, and imagined shooting out a nasty stinging hex. You glanced up to see Theo's dark eyes swoop down to the hand on his leg. He eye'ed it, eye'ed her, then slowly, delicately in the soft-quiet way he does most things, moved her hand back to her lap. You wanted to feel pleased at that action, pleased that he didn't want her touching him but she moved again, her lips moving around words you weren't paying attention to as your eyes stared at her hand creeping through his arm to lock it with hers. And then with a smile, she rested her cheek on the curve of his shoulder.
You felt like you were on fire. Heat flared up your spine, flushing your cheeks and the back of your neck. The forest-green turtle neck you were wearing was suddenly choking you and you felt like if you didn't get up in that very moment then you would self-destruct.
"I'm going to the bathroom," you muttered softly to Pansy who gave you a nod while keeping her attention on one of Mattheo's long-winded stories.
You headed straight for the common room door. It was after curfew but you didn't care if one of the prefects saw you walking around. You just needed fresh air. You needed to freeze out all the raging fire in your lungs, squash it into a piteous puff of smoke. You shot out of the nearest door and found yourself in one of the stone courtyards. The ground was blanketed in a sweep of fresh snow clear and untouched. A few stray snowflakes fluttered in the air, glittering in the firelight of scattered torches, replacing the lack of stars in the dark milky sky. You took a deep breath and welcomed the icy air that cut through your chest. It sizzled your anger until only a pile of ashy shame was left.
Theodore Nott was no one to you but a friend. You had no possessive claim to him like your body seemed to think. He could touch whoever he wanted, be touched by whoever he wanted. And you had no right to get so upset at the thought. But you were. You hated even the briefest moment seeing him with another girl. If the thought of him linking arms with a girl was enough to make you want to hex her you could only imagine the nightmare you'd be when he actually got a girlfriend.
You felt like you could be sick. You took another deep breath and then another. Closing your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest as if to shut out all of your buzzing thoughts. A swirl of wind sent a dusting of snow across your stocking-clad legs, your skirt giving you little protection but you welcomed it, hoped it would help distract you so that when you found the courage to go back inside you were less of a raging psychopath.
"Are you alright?"
His voice cut through the still of the night and sent a shock down your back. Your eyes shot open and you turned to see Theo slowly walking up to you, hands in his pockets, shiny leather shoes crunching on compact snow.
"Yeah. Fine. Just–" you breathed out slightly, hot air puffing into the cold night, arms tightening across your sternum, "hot."
His eyes were dark and gleaming under the night sky. You couldn't help but squirm whenever they stayed on you for too long as if your body physically couldn't handle their intensity. They trailed down your crossed arms, over your fluttering green-plaid skirt, and down your legs, goosebumps barely concealed through the sheer tights. Then his eyes, dark and deep and heavy, found yours again.
"You look cold," he concluded.
"I'm– Well, now . . . yes," you stumbled on your words and hoped that he thought the pink creeping across your cheeks was because of the frigid air and not your scrambled nerves, "but it's . . . good."
You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
"It's good?" He echoed, eyebrows raising and smirk pulling up the corners of his lips. "You're shaking."
You didn't notice until he said it but you did feel a tremble in your body.
"I like it," you replied. Half true, half lie. You liked it enough to distract you but your legs were starting to feel numb and your teeth were starting to thrum together in a quiet symphony.
"You like it," he echoed again and you knew he could smell your fibs like food. Theo was a bloodhound for lies.
"I just–," your eyes flickered to his and then back to the courtyard when you couldn't hold his stare any longer, "–needed some air."
You heard him step closer, snow crunching underneath his footsteps. He was quiet for a few moments, looking out at the empty courtyard with you, watching the snow flurries and taking in the icy air.
"You're angry," he stated, breaking up the quiet. His voice was soft and low but it sent a shockwave down your spine.
"I'm not," you deflected before you could think. You could feel his gaze fall to the side of your face but knew if you met those keen eyes your facade would crack and splinter.
"You are," he assured. You wanted to argue, spit back a retort and stroke the burning anger that apparently you weren't hiding well enough.
"And how would you know that?" You replied, words as tight as the arms crossed over your chest.
"Because you're brooding," he said and you felt yourself bristle. This time your eyes met his and you frowned, narrowing them at his crinkling in the corners as his smile tugged up.
"I'm not," you tried to think of something to defend yourself, or something clever so his attention would be diverted, but all you could settle on was, "I do not brood."
"No?" He let out a hum, hand reaching into the depths of his pocket to pull out a beat-up pack of cigarettes. He slid one out, tapping it seemingly unconsciously against the side of the cardboard as he picked through the thoughts in his head. You watched as his thumb and pointer finger pinched the rim and ignited a small flame enough for it to start smoking. You'd seen him do it before but felt just as breathless seeing it again, Theo and his wand-less tricks.
His eyes flickered up to meet yours again and your heart felt like it was getting vacuumed into your stomach at their heaviness, at their weight. His eyes, dark and shining, enticing enough that they seemed to weave their own spells. You felt rooted to the spot, powerless to tear your gaze away. He brought the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling, holding the breath, then exhaling a swirling cloud of smoke into the night, his eyes keeping yours captive.
"If I look hard enough I might be able to see smoke coming out of your ears," he commented. His smirk grew at your flushed cheeks.
Finally, finally you were able to rip your eyes away, glaring at one of the weeping angel statues of the fountain nestled in the middle of the courtyard. You were silent, pushing through scrambled thoughts, trying to find a placating excuse. Enough so that he wouldn't make you admit how pathetic you were being.
"Come on, my little dragon. Tell me what's wrong and I'll make it better," he drawled, taking another inhale of his cigarette.
Your insides burned at the nick-name.
"Is–" You bit the inside of your cheek, debating, deciding, before relenting, eyes shutting tight as you forced the next few words out of your mouth, "Are you and Abigail close?"
He was quiet for a moment. You counted to ten, then ten again before daring to open your eyes and cast a wary look at him. All teasing amusement was gone.
"Abigail?" He finally said. He looked surprised, brows tugging in at the center of his face like he was trying to decipher a riddle. "I hardly know her."
The words stroked your blazing core, calming it slightly. You mulled them over in your mind but stabbing images of her arm in his, her hand on his knee had the inner flame in your chest roaring. Theo was watching you carefully, as if only now seeing your real ire.
"Right," you muttered, feeling guilt and jealously and anger and shame weave together in your gut.
"Did she," he took a careful step closer so you could smell the aroma of his cigarette intertwining with his cologne that hung on him like shadows. Dark and woodsy and spiced. "Did she say something to you?"
His tone was soft but you could hear the twinge of sharpness. The silent assurance that if she had he would be stalking off to her in retaliation. And though the thought of lying and releasing Theo's acid anger on her pleased you, you knew it wouldn't be fair. Realistically, she had been nothing but kind to you. If only she had been unpleasant. Then you'd at least feel less guilty turning Theo against her.
But you weren't that evil. At least not tonight.
"No," you admitted, keeping your hard glare facing the dark sky. He waited for you to continue, to give voice to the cacophony of thoughts he could see buzzing behind your stormy eyes. You debated waiting him out, testing his patience until he sighed and relented and decided he was going back inside. But if you were a master of the long game, Theo was the creator.
"She was just . . . being very friendly towards you. And I wasn't sure–I didn't know if you knew her like that–" you let out a frustrated huff, welcoming the icy sting of the winter air as you sucked in another breath, "I just think that if, maybe, you got a girlfriend or something you'd tell us or something or–" you huffed again, "Or you'd warn me–Us. I mean–" you cut yourself off.
"Girlfriend?" He seemed well and truly shocked now. He let out a chocked laugh, staring at you with wide eyes. "You think she's my girlfriend?"
You felt like a fool. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment and you wanted to launch yourself off the edge of the courtyard and swan dive into the depths of the Black Lake, never to be heard from again.
"She was all over you. She was laying on you–" you bristled again, invisible wings flaring. You met his gaze and glared at him but he only laughed again, a rich smooth laugh that had your nerves zapping your insides.
"You're jealous," he finally said, eyes bright and blazing as he regarded you.
"I'm–" you couldn't even bring yourself to deny it. You had said far too much. You should've stalked off to the bathroom like you had said. Then maybe you could've drowned yourself in the toilet instead of being here, facing up to this.
"You're an idiot." His words felt like a slap. You opened your mouth to respond with an equally cutting remark but he spoke first.
"Her? Really? You're daft. And blind," he took a step closer until the tip of his leather shoe nudged your own and you had to crane your neck up to glare at him, "And–"
"If you keep insulting me I'm going to hex you," you threatened.
He reached out a hand and cupped the back of your neck. His fingers pressed into the skin, circling and massaging the muscle until you felt yourself deflate.
"Aren't you supposed to be smart? How could you possibly think it would be her?" He was so close now that every breath smelled of him and his cologne.
"Theo," your voice turned pleading.
His hand moved slowly from your neck up to the back of your head, fingers weaving into the silky strands.
"This has to be a cruel game that you're playing," he murmured, face inching ever closer. His eyes were piercing yours and you felt helpless to move, helpless to even speak. "You have to know what I feel for you."
Your lungs felt like they had been filled with ice. Your mouth opened but no words came out. He was so close to you and his eyes were suffocating you and you felt like you might well and truly burn up from the inside out.
His free hand, cigarette lost to the frozen ground, curved around the plush of your cheek. His thumb swiped the velvet skin under your eye and you didn't think you were breathing anymore.
"I only want your skin to touch mine," he finally said. His voice was so low, so soft, it caressed your burning cheeks. Your hands, numb from the cold, found their way to his chest, clutching at the wool of his dark sweater. He hummed in satisfaction.
"Only you are allowed to touch me," he breathed, eyes skimming your face, darting between your eyes. "Understand?"
You nodded mutely and he hummed again. Then his lips were touching yours. Warm and velvet lips caressing your own frost kissed ones. He exhaled into the kiss, his breath tickling your face. Your hands clutched at him, tugging him ever closer as you sunk into the kiss. Your body melted, relaxing into him, a rush of relief soaking down your spine and extinguishing the flames that had been coiling up your back. His kisses turned deeper, more desperate. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip then his lips soothed the sting. The hand at your cheek pulled away and you were close to whining before he was wrapping it around your waist, hoisting you higher, closer, chests pressing together so he could deepen his kisses and steal the air from your burning lungs.
It was a while before he pulled away. He admired your flushed cheeks and starry eyes that blinked up at him. His fingers woven in your hair tightened, gripping. You couldn't ignore the flash of pleasure that erupted in your stomach.
"Next time you decide to have a tantrum, at least come get me first," he murmured, words rumbling through kiss-bitten lips. You would've glared if you could think straight. But your mind was hazy and your lips were tingling and all you could think about was kissing him again.
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whatifyoulivelikethat · 5 months ago
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famous last words, m | jjk
pairing(s): jungkook x reader, very brief mention of namjoon x reader
summary: Words that should be written in your obituary but probably won't be: “How the fuck did I get myself in this situation?” Clever, right? No? Neither is fucking a stranger who bursts into tears within the first ten minutes of meeting each other. Ah. Well. Guess those will be your famous last words.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; what should be a simple task ends with fucking no one saw that coming, hehe, get it?; mentions of infidelity / recent break-up / JK crying Q_Q; angst + comfort; smut (fem reader, dom!reader x sub!JK, nipple play, scratching, hair-pulling kink, cock-and-ball torture (dick slapping, ball slapping / squeezing, etc), m-receiving oral, handjob, spit kink, edging / orgasm denial, 69); non-idol!AU, ft next-door neighbor!Kim Namjoon
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Somebody much wiser than you once said, don’t speak into existence the truth, for it will inevitably prove you right sooner rather than later, or something equally as pompous-sounding, but clearly you never got the memo as you rotted away on your sofa, staring at the red bubble of your unread messages, muttering under your breath, “Surely not every social interaction I have will end in sex,” and yet you still did not open the application. You were saying this to absolutely no one, by the way. You were the only occupant in your apartment.
Some would say by choice.
You would agree wholeheartedly.
What?
Before you could get on that mental hamster wheel, your phone started vibrating in your hand. For a split second, you debated on not answering it, however, the caller was listed under his full name in your phone. That meant it was either your boss or someone of equal importance. Or someone who would not be calling unless it was rather serious. Thus, with a sigh, you pressed the green button to accept the call with a bland, noncommittal, “Hello?”
Depending on the nature of the call, you would decide on how currently busy you were.
“Ah, hello! I’m so sorry to be calling right now,” came the slightly frantic and strangely relieved voice of Kim Namjoon, you next-door neighbor. He fumbled with the words and asked if it was, in fact, you, to which you confirmed, “Unfortunately, still alive and kicking.” This made him laugh for some reason. Perhaps it was your dry delivery. Or because he was nervous, which was a hilarious thought, as Namjoon was over one-hundred eighty centimeters tall with imposing broad shoulders and the chest of an ox. He had said something before about how he used physical exercise as a coping mechanism. For what? Impeding existential crisis from being highly educated? A question of another time.
You snapped out of your sidetracking as Namjoon said, “I was going to text you but then I remembered you said if it was important to call instead.”
You recalled the angry red bubble of unread messages. “Yes, the call was the right move,” you agreed. “Is something wrong? Have you locked yourself out of your apartment again?”
Indeed, there was a reason you had Kim Namjoon’s number. Because despite his towering frame and heavy canvas bags full of self-help books, you had previously found him sitting outside his apartment, looking like a dejected puppy, said canvas bags tucked around him, his pockets inside-out. At first, you weren’t going to ask – quite frankly you weren’t about the people-person life – but it would be a bit weird to just ignore the giant dejected puppy slouched against the unit next to yours. So, you inwardly sighed and walked up to him, asking why he was camping out at his front door.
He had locked himself out.
You nearly facepalmed. This late at night? Of course, the leasing office wasn’t open at this hour. Security didn’t have keys to the tenants’ apartments for safety reasons. You had debated on leaving him there, but it was too late, you had already asked what was wrong and now Kim Namjoon was doing that polite thing of saying he didn’t want to be any trouble, that he would be fine, and before you could remember to be rude, you had invited a stranger into your apartment to rot on your sofa, at least until the next morning when someone could let him into his apartment. Foolishly brave on your part. He could have been a serial killer. Could have bludgeoned you to death with those bags of books, which, considering the current trajectory of the world…
Never mind.
In any case, you didn’t feel threatened. Namjoon had those soulful eyes and double cheek dimples when he smiled, so the probability of homicidal psychosis was pretty low. And you were right. He was just forgetful. How he stayed alive this long was beyond you. Namjoon was the most incapable capable person you had ever met. He was a whiz with public transportation, bus and train. Had a bicycle when he needed it. He didn’t own a car for the good of the people (his words). The second time he had locked himself out, you had joked to Namjoon that he fuckin’ owed you. The third time, you had forced him to make you an extra key and gave him your number so he could call you to let him into his own apartment. He had felt like he owed you and, even though you told him that it would be more than enough if he simply learned to remember his damn apartment key for once, he had taken you out to dinner to make up for it, which surely explained how you ended up in bed with him the next morning.
Listen.
It wasn’t that serious. Really. There was nothing brewing here except wine-induced impulse and a why-the-fuck-not attitude. But all that might explain the awkward laughing. Not because anyone was harboring any secret feelings, just mostly because he was about to ask you for a weirder favor. Sucking his dick again would probably be a more expected ask than what he was about to say next.
“Ahaha, no, um…”
You could hear loud thump-thump noises on the other side of the line. No, not familiar thump-thump noises. You frowned. Was that the boom-boom of bass?
“Actually, I’m by the coast right now. I’m at a welcome party for a wedding of one of my closest friends. Er, what I mean to say is that I’m not close to my apartment right now,” Namjoon rambled, making you stretch your ears to understand. “I’m a couple hours away by train, it’s late, I thought about maybe trying to make it to and back, but I–”
“With all due respect,” you interrupted, realizing he was tipsy, over-polite, and overexplaining. “Can you tell me what you need me to do?”
“Ah, sorry, sorry,” his deep voice quickly apologized. “Could you open the door for my friend when he drops by?”
You raised your eyebrows. “Sure, I guess.”
Before you could ask what said friend looked like, Namjoon let out a whoosh of relief. “Oh, thank you. Thanks a lot. Um, if you could…? Please be nice to him.”
“Have you known me to be a rude person?” you inquired impassively.
He glossed over your question like a champ. “It’s… Complicated. He found out tonight his longtime girlfriend was cheating on him. I wish I could be there. He might not seem like it, but I know he’s very emotional right now. I told him to crash at my place, but if something seems amiss, please let me know, okay? I’m worried about him. I thought about going back, but I’m in the wedding party and…”
Despite everything within you being completely and utterly disinterested in babysitting a grown man with hurt feelings and probably a temporary poor perspective of women, your mouth was saying, “I’ll take care of it, Namjoon. And I will call you if I think it is necessary. You know I won’t let anything get out of hand. What’s his name? What does he look like?”
Twenty minutes later of you standing in Kim Namjoon’s beige apartment inspecting his rather impressive bonsai collection – something you had sadly missed the last time you were here as the living room was not the focus of the night – you heard the panicked smashing of the doorbell, indicating your visitor. You put a little more perk in your step and hurried to the door, opening it to the blubbering mess that was Jeon Jungkook.
You stared at him.
He stared at you.
From your side, you were looking at a rather disheveled man with wide bloodshot eyes, puffy cheeks, and windswept ear-length black hair clutching two big silver suitcases and a huge black duffel bag that looked like he had stuffed every skeleton of his closet into it. He was wearing a big white t-shirt with a big wet spot down the collar, torn-up slate blue jeans that appeared to have come that way, and untied white sneakers that had seen the streets of Seoul way too many times. As Namjoon had informed you earlier, his right arm was covered in dark and colorful tattoos, all the way to his hand, including a crown on his index finger. His big, dark brown eyes were pools of hurt and sadness that quickly twisted into confusion as he saw you. You suddenly realized how this looked to him. From his side, the door of one his best male friends had opened to a woman wearing flared black pajama shorts and a loose white tank top with a single red chili pepper embroidered in the center of the chest.
Which could mean a lot of things.
Or nothing.
“Jeon Jungkook?” you asked as a greeting.
“Uh… Y-Yeah…”
His voice cracked and he shook like a shaken leaf in the last days of autumn.
You waved him in. “Namjoon-ah let me know to expect you. Come in.”
He hesitated. Reasonably so. His ears were red, maybe from running, but a deep flush was developing on his cheeks. You could tell he was feeling somewhat embarrassed about it all. He had a youth about him, both in naïveté and in the anxiety of being ashamed at his emotional state. You softened. You didn’t comment on it. Instead, you said, “I’ll make you some tea. The bathroom is around the corner if you would like to freshen up. Don’t stand out here.”
There was a flash of defiance in his gaze, but it died when you didn’t react in a hostile manner. You simply moved out of the way, holding the door open for him. After an awkward shuffle and dance, Jeon Jungkook and his excessive amount of luggage was in the apartment. You closed the front door behind him, locking it.
“Did…”
His voice cracked. Distraught, he looked away and you politely stared vacantly in the other direction. A little part of you had wondered if Namjoon had put you in an unsafe situation – after all, you knew him but not his friends – yet upon seeing Jungkook, you were getting domestic pet vibes again. Puppy, or perhaps the big-eyed, trembling upper lip expression was giving bunny. He didn’t seem dangerous. Maybe you were being too trusting. Eh. Only one way to found out.
“Did Namjoon-hyung tell you…?”
Your eyes flickered to him. He was staring down at the floor. Damn. You could tell he was trying to put on a brave front as if his face wasn’t splotchy and his t-shirt wasn’t soaked in tears, but it was weak. Broken. He might be a stranger, but his current state was familiar enough to anyone who had experienced crushing disappointment. That was a lot of people, including you.
“That you were staying a while? Yup. Although he didn’t tell me where the spare towels were,” you added distractedly, crossing your arms. “He just told me you could use anything. But now that I think about it, you wouldn’t want to use his bath towel, no matter how close you two are. Hmmmm. I’ll go looking while you get settled then.”
“Are you… his girlfriend?”
You stiffened. You glanced at Jungkook, who was giving you a scrutinizing and halfway-jealous glare. You grimaced, shaking your head.
“No, I’m not. I’m the next-door neighbor. Which, contrary to what bad porn storylines might lead you to believe, does not equate to relationship material. Just a convenient person to ask to keep your spare house key when you constantly forget it,” you lightheartedly replied. “Which is a lot of the time, when you’re Kim Namjoon.”
Jungkook relaxed a bit, but he was still giving you that guarded expression. You realized he must have noticed that you were using rather familiar terms for Namjoon, which was the natural progression after the whole getting naked and sixty-nine-ing incident that he was very likely unaware of. Uh. You sort of hoped he would accept the neighbor explanation, because there was truly not much more to it. You probably wouldn’t have even done it if Namjoon hadn’t spoken so miserably about his last breakup, how he had felt so unloved and like he never mattered, and maybe you had been trying to convince him he did matter, even if only for a fleeting moment, which said a lot about your preferred coping mechanism versus his.
But.
Anyway. Haha. This wasn’t going to become a pattern. Surely.
Ahem.
“I’m sorry…”
You blinked. “Pardon?”
The not-so-strange stranger clutched his duffel bag, fidgeting, his face scrunching up, unable to look directly at you. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” Jungkook shuddered, tensing up. His shaking voice struggled to hold itself together. “I… It’s late… I couldn’t… I drove, my parents live in Busan, dunno if I could… I didn’t want to trouble… I’m so worthless…”
“You drove in this state?” you cut in sharply. You snapped your jaw shut, not wanting to scold him. His face looked stricken. Well, you’d been called heartless before, but you didn’t claim the title yourself. You calmed your tone. “Hey, I’m not here to judge you. Look, you don’t have to tell me anything. This is a safe place. I’m just here to prepare you a cup of hot tea. Maybe heat up some hotteok if I can find any in the freezer. Or I can leave you alone, right now, if you promise not to do anything stupid before your friend comes back.”
For a moment, Jungkook didn’t say anything. He was taller, bigger, more muscular than you, but he seemed small right now. The world stilled.
“Be honest… Do I seem like a pathetic man?” he asked in a broken whisper.
You looked at his frail form and answered rather confidently.
“Do pathetic men have the self-awareness to call themselves pathetic?”
Those big bloodshot eyes rose to meet your wry smile.
“Just be sad in peace. Emotions are not an attack on your masculinity.”
You spotted the flash of defiance once again. “What would you know?” Jungkook snapped. Then you could tell he instantly regretted it, shrinking back slightly. He didn’t apologize though. You waited. Minutes passed. The timing became awkward. His eyes shifted, lips quivering, trying to get the words out. You thought about forcing it out of him, but you let him have this one.
“I’m not against you,” you reminded him quietly.
“S… Sorry,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. “It’s… My girlfriend… um, ex… ex-girlfriend. Cheated on me.”
You could tell it hurt him to even say it out loud. His voice was thick and on the brink of tears.
“I… I was going to ask her to…”
He fell apart before your eyes.
“…To m-marry me.”
Jungkook sank to the floor and cried.
You didn’t know what to do.
Well, you did know what to do. It was a matter of whether or not to do it. You had only known Jeon Jungkook for less than ten minutes after all. You hadn’t even known he existed until barely thirty minutes ago. And you didn’t know if he wanted to be consoled by an almost stranger, as he had been holding back this entire time, albeit poorly and without experienced restraint, but who could blame him, his world as he had known it had fallen apart less than an hour ago.
Yeah.
His world as he had known it had fallen apart less than an hour ago.
It was entirely possible that Jungkook would recoil from you, and validly so. You knelt anyway, not yet saying anything. It was pointless to tell him not to cry, for he was already crying. Hell, you would cry too if your innocence was still intact. Deep down, you were glad that he was. It showed that he still believed enough to shed tears over a moment called love. Besides, sadness was better than misplaced anger.
You reached towards him and experimentally placed your hand on his shoulder.
What should have felt solid felt so very breakable under your palm.
“You don’t have to say any more,” you reminded him quietly.
His face was buried in his duffel bag, covered by his arms. A sob ravaged his entire body, possessing him with emotion. Frustration and sadness and regret and shame and self-blame, maybe warranted, maybe not. He was saying something, wetly, something about being not enough, not deserving, unable to make anyone stay. It was a jumbled, anguished mess. You didn’t refute any of his cries, because they were more for him than they were for you to respond to, and because you weren’t even sure he meant to be this vulnerable. You were sure that, at some point in the future, he would no longer relate to any of the statements he was declaring now, but he just didn’t know and couldn’t believe that yet so there was no point in saying it now.
You weren’t good at this kind of stuff, but you simply said what you told yourself when you were in a similar low point.
“These might be your consequences, but these consequences don’t have to define who you are.”
It was several more minutes of sniffing and clutching his duffel bag. You could tell the tears were subsiding though. It could have been what you said. Or it could have been him remembering you were there next to him. A woman he didn’t know was witnessing his breakdown. You almost pulled your hand away, but you sensed a ripple of discomfort in his demeanor, as if to ask, are you ashamed of me? The thought stayed in your mind. You shifted your hand and gently rubbed his upper back.
“Why don’t you take a shower?” you suggested softly, not leaning too close but close enough to be there as a physical presence. “Get into some fresh clothes. I’ll find a towel for you. Take your time. If you still want that cup of tea, I’ll be here to get that ready too.”
It was not your nature to give s single shit about a stranger.
It didn’t seem to be Jeon Jungkook’s nature to accept help either, and yet you felt those strong shoulders slump under your palm, giving up.
“O… Okay….”
-
You rapped your knuckle against the bathroom door.
“Hey, I’m going to put the towel by the sink and leave,” you called, hopefully loud enough to be heard over the falling water. “Take your ti–”
Everything happened very quickly.
You turned the knob with one hand as the other was holding the fluffy white bath towel you had found in the linen closet. Steam poured from the crack through the door, and you felt the heat before you felt the dampness of it. You heard the water shut off. You froze. And then, all of a sudden, the door was yanked open from the other side, revealing a dripping, wide-eyed, unquestionably naked Jeon Jungkook.
You stared at him.
He stared at you.
Was it something about doors or was it something about your poor timing? Perhaps he hadn’t heard you. You were looking up, at his face, by instinct. Droplets clung to his cheekbone and jaw. His black hair was flat against his head and did absolutely nothing in blocking those big dark brown pools of shock who really should not be shocked since he had opened the door on you. Unless he hadn’t known. But then why would he open the door trailing water everywhere butt-ass-naked knowing full well a stranger was somewhere on the other side?
Your eyes narrowed.
His ears were turning red.
The more you looked at his expression, the less you felt that he was inclined to move, hide himself, or literally anything else that would obviously provide the perception that he didn’t orchestrate this moment to some extent. Which is a lot of words to say – he had known you were there. He had opened the door on purpose. As this epiphany dawned on you, you saw his eyes dart. Flutter. He might have known but he hadn’t planned much else after that. You wondered what kind of reaction he had been trying to illicit by this, but the more time that elapsed and the more you thought about it, the more you understood that he was trying to do something reckless on purpose or worse.
Which would make you unintentional – or intentional – collateral to his current skewed judgement.
You didn’t like that.
You unfurled the towel and held it up lengthwise, pinching it by the two upper corners and continued directly staring into Jungkook’s face. With this action, he clearly caught on that you were catching on.
You saw him hold his breath.
You did not look down.
Oh, there were definitely things to look at. Even the hint of his defined shoulders and the toned upper half of his pecs was enough to give anyone a reason to look. But you didn’t, because that was basically the same as taking advantage of a drunk person. Although you didn’t really have qualms about giving the middle finger to other faux pas, questionable consent wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t thinking straight right now or, rather, you had no reason to believe that he was thinking straight because who the fuck is trying to sex up their friend’s next-door neighbor that they just met? He had just been cheated on.
So.
For revenge?
You pressed the corners of the towel to Jungkook’s wet shoulders and curled your fingers around them, touching his skin.
His inhale caught.
He stared into your eyes.
You dummy bunny, you thought.
His body was warm, and he was trembling. You still didn’t look down. You probably would have seen some things. Or one very obvious tent. In any case, you leaned in, not breaking eye contact. Jungkook seemed to realize that your approach was not giving what he thought he was going to be getting. Strangely, you could see a mixture of relief and disappointment in his expression. As if he was glad that you weren’t that kind of person, but also upset that the mere sight of his bare-and-available body couldn’t break your demeanor, somehow making him less in his own eyes.
This wasn’t your first rodeo, though. You’d seen all this shit before.
Maybe even been on his side of it.
Teenagers, right? No? Oh. Anyway.
He smelled clean. Herbal. A hint of yuzu. You synchronized your breathing to his. He didn’t seem to notice, but the shallowness waned. Dampness seeped to your palms. You felt him relax slightly, realizing you weren’t about to have an angry outburst at his appearance or his choice of, ahem, confrontation.
You stared into his eyes.
“You look better when you’re not crying,” you commented.
Jungkook flushed a little. There was good-naturedness in his awkward laugh though. “Uh… Thanks? I’d… I’d hope so…”
Your face was close to his. He seemed to notice it now. You let him have this suspended moment of heated wonder. You smiled at him.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” you asked.
A borrowed towel hung between his wet, naked body and your dry, clothed one.
His eyes held more life to them than before. “Ah… Yeah. Yes. If… If it’s not too much trouble,” he trailed off, embarrassment creeping into the timbre of his voice. “I don’t know… I dunno if there’s any hotteok.”
You held the edges of the towel. “I’ll look,” you reassured him.
He wasn’t looking away.
Your hair was messy from laying around all evening. You weren’t wearing any makeup because, again, it was evening and you weren’t expecting to leave your home. Your face might have been puffy from the salty soup of your dinner earlier in the night but, then again, there was always a little roundness to your cheeks. But Jungkook was observing your face very closely, and you were starting to think it wasn’t because of your appearance.
Or maybe it was.
You cut into his personal space just a little bit more.
“You need to hold onto the towel,” you advised.
Realization lit his ears bright red. You sensed his hands flying up, splaying over the soft white towel and pinning it to his chest, but you weren’t focused on that. You barely noticed. Instead, you were raising your eyebrows at the sound that came out of him.
Almost.
A whimper?
The moment hung into the air.
He knew you heard. You were still holding onto his shoulders. It wasn’t weird. You caught the look in his eyes. Well. You breathed out silently, backing away so he couldn’t feel the weight of your exhale. You had a task. Right. Your eyes connected for a split second. He saw something in yours that you didn’t conceal fast enough. You turned quickly, walking out of the hallway. Here you were, going out of your way for someone you barely knew. Make the tea, find a snack, get out, you told yourself, creating the mental checklist. He probably wanted to be alone to brood and all that. Yeah.
You made your way to the kitchen. Raised your hand to open the cupboards to begin your search for consumable comfort and noticed you were trembling. You frowned.
You smacked the back of your hand.
The shakes disappeared with the sting.
“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered, and prepared the damn cup of tea.
-
Thankfully, the following encounter with Jeon Jungkook didn’t involve a door and an awkward stare-down. You were beginning to think it was going to become a pattern, but thankfully it was only correlation, not causation.
Instead, now the two of you were awkwardly at Kim Namjoon’s kitchen counter. Him sitting. You standing. He was staring at the cup of tea and two circles of pan-warmed hotteok with tears in his eyes.
Improvement.
You cleaned up after yourself quietly, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable by you watching him eating, but you noticed he wasn’t touching the food or drink. After what seemed like an eternity of gazing into the abyss, he gulped down a lungful of air and closed his eyes. He was wearing a faded black t-shirt and a pair of loose blue plaid cotton pants. His hair was still a little damp. As you washed the frying pan, you saw Jungkook scoot closer to the counter and nibble on the hotteok.
Whew.
He jolted a bit at the temperature of the tea but didn’t complain. You wiped down the counters and busied yourself in making sure everything was how you found it. Acquainting yourself with Namjoon’s kitchen was easier than acknowledging the heaviness in the room right now. Not quite between you and Jungkook, but, well, the circumstances in him being here in the first place.
You turned around, washcloth in hand.
Jungkook turned slightly, reached down, and pulled his hand up.
Your eyes immediately followed the movement, even before your registered the emotion in his eyes.
With a sharp snap, a small jewelry box now sat on the grey granite.
Namjoon’s kitchen was set in a C-shape. The refrigerator and stove on one wall, sink and cabinets on another, and an extension entering the living space that doubled as more countertop area that could accommodate two barstools. You had been a little surprised at how little there was in the kitchen, as there had been no special kitchen gadgets or appliances. Just the basics. Still, it was a small space. So, there you were, boxed in the kitchen, looking down at an emerald velvet jewelry box, and Jungkook was on the other side of the counter, chewing on his sweet snack, and looking down at it with you.
You glanced at him.
Emotionless, he reached over. The snake tattoo on his right wrist was what you fixated on, dark and winding and coiled, and you watched his forearm muscle underneath ripple as he cracked open the box, revealing a ring.
An engagement ring, you guessed.
He sat back, hollow.
You looked down at it.
The focal point was a round, clear stone. It didn’t quite hold the intense, prismatic sparkle of diamond, but it was large. Several carats mounted on a shining yellow gold band. Expensive, yet not extravagant or gaudy. Classic. You searched Jungkook’s body language to see if he wanted some type of reaction out of you, but he simply looked deflated. Out of it. Chewing and swallowing and taking another bite until all of the hotteok was gone. He drank the tea as the engagement ring glittered between you and him, now in Namjoon’s apartment, oblivious that it would never grace the hand of its intended owner.
“I hid it in the pocket of the pajama pants I’m wearing now.”
You almost didn’t register that Jungkook was talking because he sounded nearly robotic. Dissociated.
“I didn’t have to worry about her finding it. I always did the laundry. She hated doing laundry.”
You lived alone, so whether or not you hated doing laundry was irrelevant. You still had to do it. Hating it only made the chore worse. Hating doing the dishes was allowed because the dishwasher could do all the hard work for you. Not that any of this mattered. You were trying to mentally distract yourself to avoid interrupting him or forming any opinion.
“I didn’t mind though,” he continued, looking somewhere only he knew. “I like cleaning. I’m good at it.”
You weren’t sure if you liked this version of Jeon Jungkook speaking in complete sentences. His detached tone was becoming disconcerting. He looked somewhere between falling apart at any given moment and hurling the mug in his hand with a torn scream.
“She told me something once. About how my birthstone and her birthstone are the same. Sapphire.” You did the math. September children. Christmas-to-New-Years boinking for their parents. You tried not to grimace so Jungkook wouldn’t notice, although he was rambling to himself and had probably forgotten that you were right there. “I don’t know about that stuff but she showed me and I guess it’s true. I didn’t know they had white sapphires. The jeweler told me they were associated to new beginnings. Perfect for the start of a martial journey, he said. I thought that would be nice, and I could afford a bigger stone too. Girls like that, right? I don’t know. Once I got it, I thought, wow. It would look perfect on her hand. She could show it to all her friends every time she goes out. She loved going out and doing stuff. I stopped going because I felt like I was invading on her special time with friends. Or something. I trusted her, anyway. Right? I should. She…”
His head moved, his dark eyes shifting.
You raised your head, and he breathed out, gazing at you from far away.
“It was my fault,” he said, his voice cracking.
You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t know anything about the situation but I kinda doubt it.”
He looked down. “It must have been. I was too suffocating, she said. Too clingy. Her friends thought I acted too childish. She told me not to care… I could tell she cared. Two years. What was it for?”
You wished you had a good answer for him, if only to ease his misery. The best you could do was continue listening.
“I found out by accident,” Jungkook whispered. Small but enough for you to hear. “She didn’t mind if I touched her phone. She was sleeping, and it kept ringing. I took it to another room and turned off the sound, but someone kept calling. Wouldn’t stop. I knew the guy’s name. I remembered her talking about him before. She had a couple guy friends. She always talked about them just as much as her female friends. I never liked it, but I have to be a grown up about it, right? And then her KaokaoTalk started popping off. She didn’t have an existing thread with the guy. Weird. I didn’t mean to read the messages, but they kept coming one after another, it was just…”
His eyes hollowed again. He was reliving it. Second by second. Minute by minute. Pain clouded his expression. His voice became tight. His hand on the mug clutched hard, knuckles tense.
“He kept warning her he would tell me. Tell everyone. I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t believe it. Then my phone started going off. Screenshot after screenshot. Messages. Photos. Videos. And she was asking him in all of them. Initiating. Begging. Then her phone was going off again, all the other chats she had. Like a fucking bomb went off.” He seethed, dark brows furrowing, jaw tightening. But then a strange look superseded all of the anger, replacing it with emptiness. “And all at once I felt it.”
He raised his head and looked…
Guilty?
“Empty.”
You tilted your head curiously.
“Nothing,” Jungkook repeated, exhaling hard. “Just nothing. I didn’t feel anything for her. How fucking scary is that? Did I even love her at all? One moment I felt anger, betrayal, hatred. And the next, I felt nothing. I wish I could delete it all. Everything. She had moved into my place, but I don’t even want to look at that apartment anymore. I don’t want the furniture. I don’t want to walk down that street. I’ll pay until the lease is up but I just don’t want to be there. I packed my clothes, my game consoles, my equipment, but anything we shared I left because I don’t want to fucking see any of it. She woke up while I was packing. Trying to act all sweet and surprised. I just shoved her phone in her face and let her deal with that. She was yelling at me, saying all kinds of bullshit, trying to take stuff from my hands, and I told her not to fucking touch me and not to fucking speak to me ever again.”
Well.
Shit.
He glanced at you again. Apologetic.
“Sorry. I’m a bad person. I’m sorry you had to help me…”
You blinked at him.
He couldn’t raise his head.
“You sure about that?” you asked the silence.
His eyes shifted but didn’t rise. “What?”
“You sure I don’t help bad people on the regular?”
He lifted his head and frowned at you, searching your face. You didn’t elaborate. Your hands were on the edge of the counter, away from the sparkly trinket at the center, a symbol of something shattered still so pristine, then it was an empty plate, empty cup, and finally Jungkook, his features contorted, trying to understand what you were saying.
Good luck, because you mostly said it to break him out of his self-pity party. Although, all things considered, it wasn’t a lie. How many good people were there on this forsaken planet, truly? Meh.
“Yeah…” he mumbled. “I don’t know anything about you.”
You shrugged and figured that was it.
“So, tell me.”
You raised an eyebrow. “What?”
His brow furrowed defiantly. “Yeah. Tell me.” He repeated himself, sharper this time. You made a face at him. He remained stubborn. “I told you about my life. What about yours?”
You weren’t impressed by his delusions. “Uh, unsolicited, by the way. I didn’t ask. You’re the one who started yapping.”
Jungkook blinked at you, startled by your dismissive tone or perhaps your word choice. You folded the washcloth primly and scrutinized him back. He faltered under your gaze, looking down at the empty light blue plate. There were a few tiny crumbs left, but its purpose had already been served.
“R… Right. Sorry.”
A little thought in the back of your mind nagged you. Please be nice to him. Namjoon’s words rang in your ear. You winced, and Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, too busy being ashamed for himself. There was a brief mental tug of war within yourself before you finally said, “I’m not currently dating anyone.”
His form ruffled a bit but it wasn’t much.
You tried not to roll your eyes. “I’ve had a couple of serious boyfriends,” you admitted. “But they didn’t work out for one reason or another. Nothing dramatic. For example, one of them we simply broke up because his parents hated me.”
“Why?” He perked up and was looking at you now.
You twisted your lip. “Because I’m a whore,” you sneered.
Jungkook blinked at you, taken aback.
“Anyway,” you continued, glossing over it. “It’s not for me.”
“What isn’t?”
“Romance.”
“Why?”
You narrowed your eyes and then sighed. What an exchange. “Because what I want is not something other people want.”
“What do you want?” Jungkook followed up, curious, sitting up in his chair now. “What’s different?”
You rubbed the back of your head. “Different…” You mulled over the word. You looked down at the ring between you and him. “What is this ring to you?”
His eyes followed, downcast. “Uh… well… it means I want to be married…?”
“That you want other people to know, hey, that’s my future wife?”
Something flashed over his expression but disappeared just as quickly. “Yeah. I guess.”
The ring shone, its many facets silvery and sparkling.
“Well, I want to have sex,” you professed.
On cue, Jungkook tore his eyes away from the counter to gawk, startled at your forwardness. You made eye contact. Half-smiled. What? He had a cute face.
“Most people have sex because of what sex means. Then there are people like me who have sex because of what sex is.”
He was staring at you like a fish out of water.
“This ring is an example of the things humans do to create an image for others.” Your finger circled around the ring, toying with light and shadow above the shine. “Which is not a bad thing, to want your bond to be acknowledged by others. It can be empowering. But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s something we do to protect ourselves. Something we do to strengthen the walls of the house that is slowly revealed to be made of cards.” You pulled your hand back. Jungkook’s face fell, gradually understanding what you meant. “Me, I don’t care what the outside of the house looks like. Sure, it would be cool for the outside to be perfected just the way I like it, but ultimately I don’t care. I only care about what’s inside. I find most actions connected to the word ‘romance’ are things we do to be acknowledged by others. There is an unnecessary pressure to fit your story into an ideal that other people need to approve of. And I hate that. So, I don’t pursue it.”
There was a pause.
Through a filtered gaze of his messy bangs, Jungkook asked, “What did you mean?”
“About what?”
“About having sex… for what it is.”
That’s what he got out of that? Still, you raised a hand to ask him a question. “Why do you have sex?”
The tips of his cheeks blushed red. “Uh.”
You started ticking down fingers.
“To express your love to your partner. To feel connection with someone else. To do something for someone that, supposing you both agreed, is an act of service you can’t get anywhere else. To make up for your mistakes to them. To show your worth and value to them.”
Your hand a fist.
“To get off.”
Jungkook’s big eyes shifted from your fist to your face. You hadn’t raised or lowered your hand for the last one.
“Selfishness is usually last on the list,” you said, uncurling your hand. “And the first and main reason why people break relationships. So, it’s bad. Supposedly.” You placed your hand on the cool stone. “And maybe I am selfish, which would theoretically put me at the bottom of the list, since I don’t have sex for other people. I have sex for the act itself. To explore the complexity of physical and mental interacting. To satiate my curiosity in that unique type of pleasure and all the things that contribute to it. To me, sex is pure. You cannot hide. You cannot lie. People try to do both, and I find that type of dishonesty exhausting and ugly.”
You looked back to Jungkook to see if he was following. His eyes were glazing over a little bit, but he seemed to understand the general sentiment. That was okay. It would be better not to spend too long on the soapbox.
“Anyway, it never feels like anyone is fully committed to the act. They are trapped in the reasons of what sex means to them. Or their relationship with sex is more deteriorated than they like to admit. The sex sucks. I can taste that it is tainted, and not in a good way.” You cocked your head. “People tend to seek to replicate what they felt before. Or they want something better than what they currently have. The past and future constantly compete with the present. Achieving orgasm has become more important than anything else. In search of meaning, the fundamentals have become an afterthought. I’m not saying love isn’t important, but I can’t accept that sex plays second fiddle to everything else. That sex needs some other reason than itself to be valid. We’ve lost the damn plot, I fear,” you chuckled, giving him a moment to absorb that.
Jungkook frowned. He didn’t look wholly lost though. “So… Romance isn’t for you because, uh.” He paused. “The purity of sex? Or something?”
You half-laughed. “That and because no one wants to put up with my bullshit.”
A beat before a soft, “Oh.”
His pensive face was rather charming. You continued to smile.
“I kinda agree though,” he mumbled.
“Hm?”
Discomfort invaded his thoughtful demeanor. “Uh… Whenever we had sex… It was on her terms. Because she had to give her consent first. Since I wanted it more than her.” He wasn’t looking at you nor speaking that clearly. Still, you stayed attentive. “I’d… uh. I’d get hard and then put it in her and then finish and… yeah. Yeah. That was it.”
You blinked.
And blinked again, more rapidly this time. “Sorry, what?”
Jungkook grimaced, cowering a bit at your tone. “It felt good. And stuff,” he said defensively.
You felt offended for him. “You’re joking.”
He gave you a sidelong glance and sighed. “It wasn’t good. But I figured it wouldn’t be like the pornos.”
“Well, it’s not,” you agreed. “But sex sure as hell isn’t… whatever fuckery you just described.”
His spine was emulating a shrimp at the moment. “Yeah.”
You looked down at the ring.
“You wanted to marry this woman?”
His eyes followed yours. “The parts of it that were good were good.”
You doubted it but you bit that lackluster lure anyway. “Like what?”
Something in his eyes broke. “Like… We watched the same shows. She loved to dance. Had a great smile, loved to laugh… I used to make her laugh all the time.” His lashes lowered. “In the beginning, she’d surprise me by signing us up for random classes around the city. Pottery, painting, cooking, flower arrangement, making traditional Korean alcohol. We learned a lot of stuff together. It was good,” he breathed out, his hands clasped around each other. “And then… One time, she signed us up for some activity but I already had plans. I didn’t want to cancel them. We argued. I remember she was so uncharacteristically angry about it. She was almost never like that. So, I must have been the wrong one, right? She never enrolled us for another class again. We had fun, until…” He trailed off.
Leaving the empty calendar as his constant reminder, you thought. It was a clever tactic. Even now, he was questioning himself. You narrowed your eyes. Poked the bear a bit. “Sounds more like she dragged you around without even asking you first. Did you actually have fun at any of these things?”
His gaze shifted. “I… I did…”
It didn’t even sound like he believed himself.
You sighed, defeated. “A ring wasn’t gonna save that house of cards.”
His eyes went to the almost-engagement ring. You tried to imagine it. Something so alive becoming so catatonic over time. Trying to do everything you could to resurrect what was lost, only to learn it had been alive after all.
Just not with you.
“No. It wouldn’t,” he agreed hollowly.
Silence.
Back to square one.
You reached over and took the plate and mug. Washed them, lathering up with the dish soap, rinsing it off. Dried them, because you were unsure if Namjoon’s dishwasher was a frequently used appliance or a drying rack. It was empty so it was hard to tell. You squeezed out the sponge and set it back into its niche. Placed the dishes back into their respective places. Dried off your hands. Turned around.
Jungkook was still staring at the ring.
“Life only gets harder,” you said softly.
He raised his head, confronting you with a devastating desolation in his eyes. Part of you wanted to lie. Lie, and say it got easier. Lie, and say he would find someone better. Lie, but what would be the point to lie to someone that had already been lied to so deeply, so cruelly, still bleeding from a wound that would become a scar someday? You couldn’t assure anything. You couldn’t lie. It got harder the more you cared. It got harder the more hurt you had time to witness. It got harder as time slipped away. You just had to hope that random chance and a bit of luck was on your side.
“Could I put it on your finger?” Jungkook asked.
You set down the washcloth. The comprehension of his question sank in. “What?”
He reached down.
Wrapped his shaking fingers around the box, and tilted it towards you. The white sapphire glistened, foreign, beautiful, and not yours. Not for your eyes. Not for your hand. Not meaning anything to you, to that relationship, to anything anymore.
It was another shiny thing that had become dull without meaning.
“Could I put this ring on your hand, please?” he pleaded again. “Just once. Just once since… Since I don’t know if I… If I will ever get the chance to do it.”
You wanted to tell him, of course you will. Of course, being that handsome and naïve and innocent and, goddamn, he has such big wistful eyes, fuck, you thought, taking one step. Two. Three. That was all it took. You looked down at the ring. You saw his tattooed fingers fumble a little with the thin band. It was almost comical. You were in your house clothes. Jungkook was in his pajamas. Namjoon’s kitchen counter was not a place for a not-proposal. Your left hand came forward. Your fingers spread out a little, and Jungkook’s left hand gently slid under, lifting your wrist, warm and careful, and your eyes found his.
A complex maze of emotions met you.
You lifted your ring finger.
Jungkook said your name, very quietly. It appeared that he had finally read those tests Namjoon had sent him ages ago. Probably before or after his shower. You nodded, not really knowing what to say. This wasn’t in the life handbook, per se. And the way he said your name, delicately and with such breakability, made you not want to dispute it.
He looked down and slid the engagement ring on your finger.
Stared.
Pulled his hands away, letting out a tense exhale.
The large stone gleamed.
You moved your fingers ever-so-slightly, and the ring flipped, the stone dropping down to the inside of your hand.
Awkward.
“Oh…”
You used your right to adjust it. “It’s… Sorry. It’s slightly too big for my ring finger,” you muttered, trying to jam the gold band down a bit to help. “Welp.”
“It’s okay,” Jungkook chuckled and, to your surprise, he sounded almost amused. “I just wanted to see what it would look like on you.”
“It’s very shiny,” you admitted. Namjoon’s previous words gave you another swift kick to the pants. “I mean, it’s nice. It’s a lovely ring. You made a good choice.” You held the band delicately and switched it to your middle finger. It fit perfectly, without moving. “Ah, there we go.” You held your left hand up, palm towards you and showed it off to him. “Now you can see it without it slipping and sliding anywhere.”
You stilled once you saw his expression.
A longing for something no longer possible.
And yet there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.
He noticed your focus on him and Jungkook smiled for real, the action not reaching his eyes at all.
“It looks good on you. Pretty hands.”
It was a compliment but he said it with all the joy of one getting their heart ripped from their chest.
A strange surge of protectiveness overcame you.
You had never met Jungkook’s would-be fiancé, but in this moment, if you did, she sure as hell would not want to meet you. You couldn’t keep it in your damn pants, woman? Bitch. You scowled even at the thought. Jungkook was too transfixed on his engagement ring on your middle finger to give a fuck. This whole situation was infuriating. Sure, you were too clinically cynical for a mushy-gushy fairytale but, fuck, couldn’t we bend life’s rules just once for this sucker? You lowered your hands. His eyes followed, dulled in the presence of the sparkle. You moved to take it off.
His gaze snapped to yours.
You stopped.
It was like seeing someone alive and dead at the same time. He seemed to be in the midst of a daydream and a nightmare, thoughts crossed between what could have been and what was lost. You wanted to say something movie-script worthy, something to make it all better, and yet you held back once more, not quite believing in them yourself. The ring seemed unusually heavy now.
“It doesn’t match you though,” Jungkook suddenly muttered.
You looked down at the ring. “No. Not really.”
“White gold would look better.”
He was correct. Maybe he could tell from the small hoops in your ears. “Ah, yeah. I’m more of a white gold girl.”
“You deserve a diamond.”
You scoffed. He caught your eye. For once, you were the one to look away, breaking that contact.
“Hah… No, I don’t.”
Not like you did anything to deserve a diamond. You went to work. Went home, puttered around. Passed out. Sometimes you went out in search of a fuck. Sometimes you traveled a bit to cut through the mundane. But there was no charity work here. For what? To end up like Jungkook? To have your trust broken, shattered by someone you thought would keep it safe? And you couldn’t blame them and take revenge, because the high road had no room for low blows. Supposedly heaven was only for the most righteous, which already excluded you. Might as well live to the bare minimum instead of chasing an ideal knowing you could never be forgiven.
And all that shit.
Somehow your space-out had resulted in you completely losing track of Jungkook. One second, he was sitting in the tan leather barstool in front of you. The next, it was empty. You started, and then turned.
Face-to-face.
Jungkook took your left hand in his right.
Held it.
The conversation had gone on so long that his hair was dry now. A little frizzy from being air-dried. It covered his forehead, but not his eyes. His warmth and yours connected. From palm to palm. Under those big eyes was heavy darkness, hinting at sleepless nights. You paused, unsure of his motive. He seemed to be searching for something.
You caught his wrist.
Jungkook froze in mid-movement, about to lean his head down.
You shook yours.
“Don’t.”
He didn’t advance but also didn’t back off. “… Don’t what?”
You squeezed his wrist. His expression rippled. A sound muted in his throat.
“Don’t do it,” you warned again. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
Contemplation flitted over his face. His eyes went from his ring on your middle finger to you. Tense, elongated seconds passed. You could tell Jungkook hadn’t quite expected that answer from you. He had expected the rejection, and yet. There was a mixture of defiance and innocence in his gaze. You could smell his scent under the body wash he had used. Masculine and earthy.
You inhaled deeply.
Don’t, you thought, but this time it was to scold yourself.
“It won’t make you feel better,” you assured him.
He was more focused on your hand gripping his wrist than your words. You did not let go. In fact, you tightened your hold, your fingers pressing into his tattoos, the ring digging into you and into him. His dark eyes raised.
“You sure about that?” he whispered.
Uh oh.
Jungkook reached up with his left hand and brought your joined hands to his body. For a brief suspended moment, the round cut white sapphire cut into his clothed chest, close enough for you to feel the racing beat of his heart. You let go of his wrist, giving way to the pressure, and immediately he turned your hand, placing your palm to fabric.
Grazed your touch over his quivering pecs.
He sucked in a breath, his expression hazing over.
You stared at him.
He stared back, his lips forming your name.
Your right hand shot up and covered his mouth. You were trembling. You seized up immediately, wondering if he noticed, but at this point what did it matter? His left hand was still keeping yours on his body, pressing your fingers to the contours of his muscle. “What… What are you doing?” You sharpened your tone, trying to drag him back into reality. You almost expected a cliché answer at this point, but Jungkook only replied breathlessly, “I don’t know.”
I don’t know.
For someone that had been practically disintegrating before your eyes minutes ago, Jeon Jungkook was feeling very solid right now. But it was obvious what he was doing. Right? You looked into his eyes but couldn’t hold it. He just wanted comfort. He just wanted a feeling more than anything. He just wanted to prove that he was worthy of some kind of intimacy, any kind of intimacy, and he was using you, but it didn’t have to be you, it could be anyone.
You clenched your jaw, curling your fingernails inward.
Jungkook’s low moan cut through your venom.
You raised your head, turning your head to him. It didn’t have to be you. But he was looking at you like that. It doesn’t have to be you, and you kept telling yourself that, you kept thinking that but Jungkook kept looking at you like you could save him, from the first meeting at the front door to the standoff at the door of the bathroom to the gaze over empty dishes and a sparkling stone, save you, shit, I can’t even save myself, and you were still wearing his almost engagement ring for another woman on your middle finger, a big fuck-you to that shattered martial life, and before you knew it there was a collision of your lips to his. Your right hand had shot up, hooking around his head, and you dragged Jungkook down to your level.
Low, because the high road had already fucked him over.
He let out a startled squeak that you swallowed, consumed, devoured, and you stole every breath he took in lips and tongue, clawing your fingers through his hair. Then your mind caught up with your body still electrified with craving, asking yourself if you should stop, but then you noticed Jungkook’s hands were grasping for your upper arms, dragging you to him. There was a brief thought of how this was not the kind of intimacy he had received in a long time, and so perhaps his hunger was justified.
Truthfully, hunger was putting it mildly.
You bit his lower lip and sucked hard, opening your eyes.
Jungkook was looking back, and he was falling.
You released him, your tongue snaking out, and simultaneous shivers sprang forth from the fork in the road. Your nails raked over clothes and skin, drawing out his gasps like droplets during a thunderstorm, and you gleefully drowned in his sound. Your tongue pressed to his throat, teeth soon after, leaving bruises in your wake, dying for that taste of flushed skin. Bodies close but pain even closer, and there was no good reason that this should feel good which was precisely why it felt heavenly.
You dragged your hands up to his head, caged into his hair possessively, feeling the unrelenting trap of the ring still on your bent fingers.
Your right eye and his left locked as your tingling lips moved against his cheek.
“I’m still wearing your ring.”
His hot, heavy breath radiated against your neck.
“The ring,” he corrected.
The rebellion in his eyes gleamed.
The ring.
Your left hand trailed down, onto his chest, turning your nails inward, and you watched him follow it, fixated on the ring, replacing any former thoughts he had of it with right now, with the way you slipped your fingers under the hem of his shirt, deliberately catching it onto the large stone, all those expensive carats brought for someone else and now worn by a deviant, creeping up his torso, pushing away the fabric between his nakedness and your carnal intent.
Your eyes connected.
You licked the side of your lip, slowly smirking. “Your plan was for me to fuck you wearing it?”
His cheeks turned pink at your teasing.
“N-No, I d-didn’t… I…”
Jungkook sucked in a tight breath as the pad of your finger brushed over his nipple. You did it again. He looked embarrassed. You weren’t. You pressed your other hand against his abdomen and felt him tense, exposing muscle that was surely crafted from long hours at the gym. You dug your nails in. He moaned, and you hissed his name like a fond prayer, mesmerized by the way his hair fell over his eyes, his body bowing towards you. You gripped his shirt in one hand, his pants in the other, and pulled them away from his body, up and down respectively, exposing skin and desperation.
He grabbed the sides of his shirt and yanked it up and over his head.
Your tongue touched his chest, sliding upwards.
His head fell back, black hair flaring, dark eyes half-moons of lust, his mouth open and depraved sound escaping, all the way up his throat until you reached his chin, rising to tiptoes, and then Jungkook returned, catching your lips with a persistent kiss, possessed by instinct.
You thrust your tongue into his mouth and felt his hands slide under your tank top, wrapping around your waist. You weren’t wearing a bra. After all, you had originally intended on not spending much time here. That hadn’t worked out. The looseness of the top had prevented you from revealing any obvious shape and until now you hadn’t given it much thought. You felt Jungkook pinch the edges of the fabric and tug back, shaping the white jersey into the soft curve of your breasts and the peaks of your hard nipples. He was looking too, even with your tongue in his mouth.
He let out a muffled, “Fuck…” in between gasps.
You pulled back with a nick of his lower lip. Entranced, he leaned down, his hands pressing into the small of your back, and you bent into it, arching your spine as you felt warm wetness rub against one of your nipples.
You watched him.
He watched you back, circling the tip of his pink tongue around the nub, soaking the fabric and sticking it to your skin. Sucking on it, sending a flare of pleasure up your torso, his palms solidly in the bend of your waist. Your pulse snaked upwards, catching in your throat, reducing all thoughts to white noise, and you lost yourself in the way his tongue moved, licked, trailing from one nipple to the other, saliva soaking through your shirt and clinging to your skin, painting you in clear lust.
You hooked a leg around his hip and you could feel him.
You reached between your bodies and dragged the hem up your chest, baring your breasts to his eyes and searching mouth. Jungkook didn’t need to be asked twice. It was as if everything he had seen, longed for, dreamed of, all that he had repressed and tried to forget burst up to the surface, uninhibited any longer, and the feeling of his eager tongue on your wet, hard nipples was intoxicatingly electric. Your grip dug into his hair, pressing his head into your chest. Heat rising from your bodies, sparks igniting in your blood at his frantic licks, rolling your hips into his growing erection.
There really was very littler separating his hard cock and your dampening pussy.
Your nails raked over his back.
“Harder,” he groaned, clutching your waist so hard that it was impossible to get away.
You growled and delivered.
His eyes rolled back, his eyelids fluttering, and you had a fistful of his hair, pulling hard. You wondered if this was actually his kink or a product of circumstance. The glazed-over look in his eyes and violent twitching of his hardness between your thighs was hinting towards the former, which wasn’t a good thing.
Mostly because being on the other side of masochism was your kink.
Fuck.
You shoved his face into your chest and muffled his desperate moan as you yanked on his hair again, striking your hips into his hard-on, putting more force in it than necessary. He held your waist and grinded into the dip of your upper thigh. You closed your legs around him. The friction was sending him over the edge, even to the point of you being able to hear and feel the squish of drenched fabrics between you and him. Your breathing was rapid, shallow, thinning.
You shoved him off you.
Jungkook had a moment of disoriented breathlessness.
Your shirt flew off, over the counter and somewhere into the living room. You immediately dropped with such speed that he had no time to react when you snagged your fingers over the two waistbands of his pants and underwear, and yanked them down to the floor. Those big eyes widened, but you fixated on his thick, hard cock that sprang out, the tip dark red and angry. Slick with pre-cum. You would smell him. Heady and needy. He had nice balls, you observed. Supple and full.
Not for long.
You slid your right hand up. Covering his balls with your palm, anchoring his shaft between your middle and ring finger. Raised your left hand, and looked up at him.
Jungkook looked back, mouth open, eyes widening.
You slapped his erection.
Hard.
His entire body jolted and his gasp morphed into a strangled moan. You watched flashes of reaction overtake his expression. Shame. Desire. Regret. Then regret at that regret. Then need, want, starvation, his hands curling into fists, his chest rapidly rising and falling, and you took his breath away by smacking the shaft again, hard. His cock snapped back into place instantly, twitching, harder than before. He sucked in a tight breath, shaking his head with his lips whispering, “P… Please…”
You tipped your head back and slapped his dick, the ring on your hand visible every time you smacked it down.
Ecstasy rippled through his body. You could tell Jungkook could see the whisper of the sapphire too, maybe even feel the gold band, and it was turning him on even more. Due to the placement of your other hand, you could keep him still and increase the force, even pressing your palm into his balls to add further pressure. He fell apart in real time, but in pain superimposed with pleasure, each strike a spike to your core, thundering heartbeat roaring in your ears.
You stopped mid-slap.
Jungkook nearly protested.
Until you swallowed his cock.
You felt him swell and shudder at the contact of your tongue and throat closing in around his girth, and you pushed up, swirling wet muscle around him, covering him in saliva, drunk at the taste and fullness trapped between your lips. Up, down, vibrating the low point of your throat before drawing back, grazing your lips around the head, slow-fucking the tip.
You raised your eyes to stare into his face.
He was looking back, in awe and intoxication. He had fallen over a bit, draping you in shadow, his hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, and you sucked lightly, arcing your spine to delight him with the perkiness of your breasts.
“Oh… fuck… O-Oh, god…”
You tilted your head back and took him in deep, circling your tongue around the length before closing in at the back of your mouth and gently stroking the throbbing head with the contraction of your inner muscles. A low groan drifted from his lips, astonished at the precision of your control. You reached up and kneaded his balls, applying even pressure throughout before pulsing tighter. His reaction was immediate, yelping as his eyelids fluttered, letting out a weak and desperate, “A-Again…” You squeezed again, sucking hard in unison. “F-Fuck, again, p-please…”
But you did him one better.
You smacked his balls with the pads of your fingers.
Jungkook threw his head back and bit back an intense moan, his shoulders shaking.
“Holy… w-what…?”
The trick to it was to apply force but immediately cease all movement after contact with skin. His nerves would immediately register the power of the hit while the recoil repercussions would be minimal. His nuts couldn’t handle being a springboard, after all. It took a lot of control, and was easier to do if you angled upwards, as it would prevent your fingernails from getting caught on his balls while also allowing his body to absorb the shock. You didn’t hit him that hard. It was very likely that he didn’t have much experience in this – unless he was smacking his own balls while jacking himself off. Unlikely, though. And this was confirmed by the way he froze up and simply allowed you to choke with dick with your mouth as you smacked his balls. No part of him resisted. He left himself be at your mercy, even asking for more, nonsensical pleas above your head, and you could feel that he was nearing the end, mostly because he was biting hard on his lower lip, his obscene noises even louder despite being stifled in his throat, and so for the very end you switched to keeping his balls in a locked grip, maintaining constant pressure as you focused on his cock, up, down, repeat, over and over, feeling him twitch against your tongue.
His thick cum flooded the back of your mouth.
His head snapped back and Jungkook screamed behind closed lips, orgasming in your punishing mouth in the middle of Namjoon’s kitchen, his pants and underwear at his ankles, his chest beaded with sweat, and his cock jolted again, streaming more down your throat. You swallowed shallowly, and Jungkook’s pitch hitched to pathetic. His right hand flew to his chest and he dug his blunt nails into his skin, scratching down his chest roughly, moaning to the ceiling as your tongue ghosted around his still-hard cock.
You swallowed again.
Jungkook cried out and thrust his hips into your face.
His chin tipped down and you caught his surprised cry, “I… I’m still hard?” As if he wasn’t trying to end your life right here on foreign tile. You grabbed his hips, easing him back a little, then resumed a deliberate, leisurely back-and-forth, watching his every move.
His arm lowered, his dark tattoos glimmering with sweat. Panting. You raised your left hand and spread your fingers along his v-line. Traced his abs with your middle finger, cocking an eyebrow. His eyes chased your actions with wanton fervor. As if he almost forgot you were still wearing the ring, but then remembered once you put it in his vision again. It aroused him. You felt his cock shiver as you touched him. The wrongness of it all turned him on.
A very expensive turn-on, but a rare silver lining of the day.
His gaze shifted to your face, shame clouding his eyes.
You pulled back, resting the head of his cock on the flat of your tongue.
“Tell me you like it,” you ordered, talking around his dick.
“Uh… W-What?”
Your eye-line went from the ring to his face. You pinched your lips around the base of the head, causing him to gasp sharply, before opening your mouth again to speak.
“Tell me you like watching me get you off while wearing the ring.”
His eyes widened.
You slipped your left thumb along the underside of his drenched length and sucked on the head, closing your fingers around the shaft. His breath caught. You pulled your head back, perfected your grip, and started jacking him off.
With that very expensive rock completing the obscene image.
The whine Jungkook made was in between raw shock and intense bliss, gawking at your audacity. Or depravity. Whichever. He was going to need a good jewelry cleaner before selling this ring back, but you wouldn’t mind paying for that. The gold band was slippery with spit and a hint of cum, but you kept your fingers together, preventing the stone from moving, dispersing tight and firm pressure throughout his pulsing hardness, feeling a grin creep onto your lips, relishing in his whimper and panic, betrayed by his body leaning into the punishment.
“I… oh, f-fuck… Fuck…”
You lifted an eyebrow and slowed down just a tad.
“N-No, please...! I… I like it,” he whispered, his normally deep voice strained.
You smacked the front of his balls with the backs of two fingers from your free hand.
Jungkook moaned and crumpled, almost into a ninety-degree bow, clasping the edge of the counter. “A-Ah, g-god… I l-like it…” His eyes swam with desire, ensnaring you in his immoral feelings. “I need it… It’s so fucking hot… You getting me off while wearing the ring I brought for a-another woman…” His voice wavered. He clenched his jaw, tightening his core, giving you more room to continue. “Spit on it. Let me cum on it. Fuck. Fuck, ruin me.”
Your hand was rapidly moving on its own while your lips parted, locked in the twisted passion of this fucked-up context.
“Ruin me.”
Jungkook was staring right at you, an order and a plea in the same breath, his eyes so dark in this shadow that they seemed black. A bolt of sinful pleasure slid down your spine. You gripped his cock, tighter, imprisoning him. Somehow he had become even harder, his rapid pulse against the palm of your hand. You could feel his greed for pain, his appetite for your power, his directed attention locked on you, just you, you and everything you were right now, fighting the burn in your bicep but not stopping, fueled by feral willpower and corrupt adrenaline that was better than any runner’s high.
You smiled, unable to hide your enjoyment any longer.
He saw it, acknowledged it, and shuddered.
“I-I’m gonna cum, oh fuck–!”
You opened your mouth and Jungkook shot onto your tongue. Thick, hot, viscous streaks, the bittersweet taste coating your tongue. Devilishly divine. You pressed the tip to your wet muscle and he whined, forcing his eyes open to watch himself dump his load into your mouth. You rubbed it back and forth, making him flinch all over, and so you subsided in seeing him reach his limit even though his eyes were devouring every second of this wickedness.
You drew back a little.
Closed your knees inward, which lifted up your torso.
And spat onto your hand.
Onto the ring. Coating it in an unholy mixture of cum and saliva over a still glimmering white sapphire and shining yellow gold. Jungkook gasped your name in amazement, speechless at the depravity. You tucked your head back, watching the silky fluids sink in between your fingers, smirking, your skin tingling as you witnessed it.
You looked up at him.
He looked back at you. Jaw slack. Eyes wide. Half-hard in your hand and getting harder as you slowly, deliberately, stroked his cock with the slick, milky, makeshift lubricant. You felt it stick to his balls, run down your wrist, making a mess, the heady scent of his release saturating the air and this memory.
“You’re persistent,” you remarked, ticking your chin to his dick.
A whimper bubbled from his chest. “That’s… That’s n-not me.”
You shot him an oh-really look.
“That’s all him,” Jungkook protested, gesturing wildly to his lower half. “I don’t even… I’m not normally like this!”
“Uh huh,” you agreed dismissively.
“It’s true!”
“Well, I wouldn’t know,” you pointed out.
“I… Oh, f-fuck…”
-
You opened the front door to your apartment to a shirtless Jeon Jungkook with his blue plaid pajama pants so hastily yanked on that you wondered if half a butt cheek was hanging out. Then you wondered what the fuck he was doing here.
You stared at him.
He stared at you.
Out of breath, clutching one side of the doorframe, relief crushing through the panic in his eyes. His hair was sticking up halfway, as if he had attempted do it something about it but ultimately decided he didn’t care. He stood in the dark hallway, the light from your apartment washing over him. You had a good reason for being in your home at the moment. Ultimately the idea of using Namjoon’s dishes to clean off Jungkook’s bodily fluids on a very expensive ring was, uh, too much. Overstepping an unspoken boundary, mayhap. As if having sex with his friend in his kitchen wasn’t. Anyway, you had jewelry cleaner under your kitchen sink. The plan was simple. Get in your apartment, put the ring in one of the shallow metal saucers you had, rinse off your hands while heating up a bit of hot water, wash off the ring with said hot water in the safety of the saucer, polish it up with jewelry cleaner. It was dying on a paper towel in your kitchen right now. Nowhere close to the sink because you weren’t about to lose millions of won that didn’t belong to you to the sewer.
So, yeah. That was why you were here.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” you loudly whispered.
Jungkook exhaled hard, his dark brows knitting together. “What? You have the ring,” he hiss-whispered back.
You bristled. “I told you I was cleaning it off.”
His eyes darted up and down, as if disapproving that you had put your tank top back on. Of course you had put your shirt back on. What were you going to do, slink back into your apartment with your tits out and one of your hands covered in his cum? Yes, that happened. After spitting on him, you had put his hard cock back into your mouth, sucked him until about halfway to the high, and finished him off with your right hand, all so you could make him orgasm onto the ring on your left, onto your middle finger, cum sliding down your forearm. It hadn’t taken long. You had pointed that out to Jungkook too. He had told you to shut up, his ears bright red as he did so.
Naturally, you took that moment to hightail it out of there so he could fix himself up in peace and relative dignity.
“How would I know you weren’t stealing it?” he snapped.
You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m totally going to drive to the pawn shop with a cum-covered ring and get extra for your excellent sperm sample. It’s time sensitive, after all,” you added sarcastically, not backing down despite his irritated demeanor. 
He flapped his jaw, likely not knowing how to respond to that, and then collected himself. “Well, just because you’re washing it off doesn’t mean you would come back!”
You were personally offended. “I was coming back,” you retorted.
A darkness laced into his gaze.
“I have no reason to believe that,” Jungkook muttered.
Any anger you had dissipated upon hearing his words. Your shoulders slumped and you lowered your eyes. Right. Yeah, obviously. The fight seemed to deflate out of him too, as if you both suddenly remembered why he was here at all, why you even knew who he was, why an almost-engagement ring was sparkling in your kitchen right now. You raised your head, and yet you hesitated at his hunched-up form before you, because in this equation the most probable outcome was you being nothing more than temporary comfort for a temporary wound.
Right?
Yeah, obviously.
Jungkook looked up, meeting your eyes, and, despite your best self-deprecation, something in his expression told you that he didn’t run over here half-naked for the stupid ring.
Your lips parted.
Somewhere down the hall, a bubble of laughter and conversation began to rise.
Panic shot through your chest. He caught on just as quickly, his big eyes widening, half-turning, as if there was time to gauge how much time he had to make his getaway, but your hands moved on their own, snatching him by the shoulders and pulling hard, throwing both of you into the confines of your apartment. His arms flew about like a rag doll. Jungkook stumbled in with a wheezing, “Wah!” You twisted, clearing the curve of the closing door, and pinned his back to it, slamming it shut.
Sudden quiet.
Except for the heightened awareness of your own rapid breathing. You closed your eyes, mentally counting, one two three four, two two three four, taking stock of each inhale and exhale. Shit. Shit, what the fuck were people doing out at this hour? Having fun?! With friends?!? Goddamnit, you thought, hoping nobody saw the shirtless man standing outside your door bickering with you, and suddenly you remembered said shirtless man was in your hands.
You opened your eyes to see Jungkook gawking at you with those innocent-looking big eyes of his.
He didn’t say anything.
You wondered if he would believe you.
“I was coming back,” you repeated, emphasizing it with a nod.
A complicated set of emotions flashed through the shadows of his expression. He nodded back, and you could tell he was doing it only to appease you. You shook him against the door and smacked your hands down on his shoulders, glaring back at him.
“I was coming back,” you growled.
Jungkook looked pained, as if he wanted to believe you more than anything, but just couldn’t.
You sucked on the inside of your cheek and flung yourself from him, spinning around sharply so he couldn’t see your face. You couldn’t blame him. Oh, you had lied before, lied with a straight face and no remorse, but for some reason the idea of Jungkook thinking that you were doing so made you terribly upset. Fuck, yeah, it pissed you off. And it wasn’t his fault, Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that shit, yet some part of you wanted to scream, believe me, please believe me, and you couldn’t for the life of you make heads or tails of why that was, walking in a circle, wringing your hands, rubbing your temples with a grimace, not wanting to take your outburst out on him.
It was such a small thing.
You were coming back, he didn’t believe you, and that was that, you would have to accept it.
But you couldn’t.
You just needed a second to accept it. Right?
“How the fuck did I get myself in this situation?”
You muttered under your breath, abruptly ceasing your pacing and turning around, intending to march over to the ring, drop it in Jungkook’s palm, and shove him out of your apartment. Shove him and his stupid sexy butt into Namjoon’s place to neatly compartmentalize that, so long and goodnight, and promptly flop onto your bed to sleep and forget any of this ever happened.
Except, when you faced him, Jungkook caught you.
You started, not realizing he had followed. One second his hands were on your upper arms, and the next they were wrapped around your back, pulling you to him and trapping you in a tight, encompassing embrace that was not for you.
Your hands instinctively came up to cradle his waist.
He buried his face into your hair and inhaled deeply, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. Almost crushing. You thought he was trembling but perhaps it was just your imagination as you felt each shuddering breath steady against your chest. Honestly, you weren’t the hugging type, but this night was proving to be a night of exceptions. You closed your arms around him, not saying anything, letting him have this. Probably the most normal interaction of the night, truly. Jungkook wasn’t crying. He might have, if you had rejected him, but your instinct didn’t have the heart to. You caressed his back, running your fingers over his soft skin.
You didn’t know him.
He could be a serial killer.
Well, if he was, you were considering to offer to bury the bodies.
“Hey… You shouldn’t…”
Even so, you trailed off. You weren’t sure you quite believed what you were trying to say.
“I don’t care.”
His warm breath haloed the crown of your head. He pressed his lips to your hair.
“I don’t care,” he said again, softer this time.
A small, sweet, wrong happiness fluttered at those words.
“Okay,” you breathed, your lips brushing against his neck. You kissed him lightly. Felt him shiver. You smiled. Truth was, you didn’t care either. That was pretty selfish of you. But he was here of his own volition. And Jungkook held you first. And who the fuck were you justifying this to? I’ve lost it, you told yourself for the umpteenth time as he was turned his head and suddenly his lips were a centimeter from yours.
In shadows, your eyes met his.
“I turned your whole world upside down,” you confessed, warning him that this was a one-way highway and he was breaking the speed limit.
You felt Jungkook smile.
“Thank fuck for that,” and then he put pedal to the metal.
Upon reflection, what the fuck was Jungkook thinking, bursting into your apartment with only pajama pants and a dream? Oh, and some sandals borrowed from Namjoon, which quickly flew off as you both stumbled into your living room, abandoning your clothes at an alarming rate. Your top over your head, your hands down his sides, and he hadn’t even bothered with his underwear, this would be my luck, I would want a lunatic, you thought as his thumbs hooked onto the edge of your shorts, pulling down. All the while with your tongue in his mouth.
Normally you would have a conversation about limits and intent and what this was all supposed to mean afterwards but under normal circumstances you would also never imagine having sex with someone you barely met after watching him cry within the first ten minutes.
So.
There was that.
You felt your panties slide down your ass and you grabbed his wrists, yanking them back up as your shorts and underwear slowly migrated down to the floor.
“Wha… W-What?” Jungkook sputtered, breaking out of the kiss and looking like a startled deer confronted by the headlights of your abrupt shift in body language. You sucked in a breath, your lips tingling.
Taking notes.
He immediately stopped even without you explicitly saying stop. He was not trying to overpower you to coerce you for more, even if he was now explicitly staring at your naked body with a bug-eyed expression. You pushed your hands forward and Jungkook stepped back, not quite understanding and blindly trusting you, which was not indicative of a sane headspace.
“You’ve done this before,” you breathed out, glaring up at him from below.
He shook his head very quickly. “No. Well… I mean… it is n-normally what I search for when I wanna get off, so you’re kinda a dream come true for me…”
You narrowed your eyes. “What are you talking about?”
A flutter of confusion.
“Uh… Being dominated by a hot woman?”
You stared at him.
Jungkook tilted his head.
“That’s not what I’m doing,” you said while gripping his wrists and in command of the situation.
His eyes shifted from side to side. “A… Aren’t you?”
A chill crept up your back. “What did you think I was going to do?” you pressed.
He looked back at you, blinking. “I don’t know,” Jungkook answered, sounding truthful.
You squeezed tighter. He gasped a little, his inhale hitching. You relaxed. He seemed disappointed.
“What’s wrong with you?” you snapped.
He paused for a moment and then replied with, “Trauma?”
Well, he wasn't wrong.
“Get on the sofa.”
“What?”
“Now.”
You had one of those viral extra-comfy modular sofas that could be placed in various orientations. Currently, it was as it always was – all linked together, turning the couch into more of a bed than anything else. Hey, there was a reason you enjoyed rotting on your sofa. Maybe you should have taken him to your bed, but Jungkook didn’t seem to care, reacting immediately when you shoved him. Actually, he seemed to approve of your furniture choices. He sat. You planted your hands on his chest and pushed him down, straddling his waist. He yelped, which you immediately silenced with a hand over his mouth and one on his dick, sliding down the underside and squeezing his balls.
His big eyes got bigger.
You slid up his torso, realizing you where dripping pussy juice everywhere. His hands ended up on your breasts. You raised your eyebrows. Those big eyes pleaded with you. You didn’t say anything, instead tilting your head back and toying with his balls, testing the waters. It was a little distracting with the pinching and rubbing of your nipples, but you took a second to test how much pressure he liked, if he enjoyed scratches (he did), if he enjoyed a tug (he did), and if he was fine with your weight on top of him (he was and he seemed to be trying to get you to move up a little higher for personal reasons). His dick was definitely into it. His stiff length was smacking your wrist. Pre-cum was smearing onto your forearm.
Without much warning, you sat back up, climbed over him, and turned around.
Your knees hit his shoulders. There was a gasping, “Wow, oh my god,” when Jungkook came face-to-face with your pussy. You leaned down to your elbows, hovered your hands over his inner thighs, his erection centimeters from your face, and slapped him extremely close to his balls.
Jungkook let out an inhuman noise and muffled him with your ass.
Hot, wet muscle slid against soaked skin. His arms wrapped around your thighs, his hands on your hips, sending a wave of sparks up your core as you descended, wrapping your tongue around his cock, running your fingernails over his balls, relishing in the sensation of tightened skin, tense muscle, and his taste, oh, fuck, his taste, your tongue running over the swollen tip. You kissed downwards. Your teeth braced around one of his balls, licking the curve while pressing the warm shaft against your cheek, using your palm to stroke up and down. Your hair was getting in the way, annoyingly, so you switched sides and swept it aside in the same movement, practically laying on his hard thigh and your upper arm as you kept a hand around his cock and sucked on one of his balls roughly while pinching the other between your knuckles as you jacked him off.
With your pussy rocking against his hungry mouth, of course.
You felt his tongue hit your clit and your body stiffened from the unexpected burst of concentrated pleasure, but that was soon replaced by his lips sealed around it, desperately sucking. He lacked technique, but then again it probably wasn’t that easy to concentrate either. A perverse sense of accomplishment simmered through you as you realized his blunt nails were digging into your ass, aiding you in the pace and his own suffocation. So, instead of actually getting him off, you edged him.
And continued edging him.
Until he made you cum.
You knew exactly when he was going to orgasm because he would pause, gasping, breaking the seal for a breath, and then at the very last second you would release his cock, making him whine and cry out before planting your pussy onto his mouth again. You did it again, and somewhere in Jungkook’s lizard brain he got the hint, gripping you harder and licking faster with his stifled groans vibrating against your thighs, building heat, the muscles in your back tightening, sucking harder as you felt the coil within tighten, so close, throbbing in your palm, close, the thinning thread almost at breaking point, and you lifted your head, tugging, his wet ball popping out of your mouth, and replaced your hand with your lips as something inside you snapped.
For a fleeting, desperate moment, you were plummeting through euphoric freefall.
The next, your contracted muscles suddenly relaxed with a pins-and-needles sensation shooting all throughout your nerves, overwhelming euphoria almost unbearable, barely registering that it was slippery and sticky between your thighs, realizing that you haven’t moved your head, but Jungkook was gasping, clutching your legs and arching his back so his chest pressed against your stomach. Aggressive flinches shot through his entire body, ricocheting from his core. His cock jerked in your mouth, beginning to soften. You didn’t taste any bitterness. Ah. He orgasmed without delivering any unpleasant package. In the back of your mind, you were relieved. This would have been the fourth nut of the night. It probably would have tasted quite bitter and you weren’t a quitter; you were lucky to be spared this time.
He couldn’t control it but you patted his thigh with gratitude anyway.
When you unpeeled yourself from him, Jungkook looked like he badly needed another shower.
“You okay?” you asked, poking his shoulder.
His chest was glistening with sweat. His hair was a mess. He looked like he was discovering oxygen for the first time. His eyes were unfocused. He didn’t even try to lift his arms, or move at all for that matter.
“Y… Yeah…” Jungkook wheezed.
You sat on your sofa and wondered how you ended up in the same place that you started this night.
-
Well.
As it was with life, things didn’t go as intended and now you were stuck in the usual fuckery. But that was fine. You could go back to your regular life of existing in what would most call a frivolous manner quite easily as long as you could somehow get rid of Jeon Jungkook. Which wasn’t happening. Oh. Great. You nodded at yourself in the bathroom mirror after washing up. Everything is going to be fine, you reminded yourself.
You turned around and Jungkook was standing behind you.
In the doorframe of your bathroom. Of course. You and Jeon Jungkook and doors. You blinked quickly, a little disoriented at how quickly he cleaned himself up in your kitchen. Such was the way of men that you would never understand. His hair was still unbrushed and wild, and he was rubbing his shoulder slightly with a grunt of discomfort, jolting to attention when he realized you were done. He was sans pajama pants. Your clothes were somewhere on the floor too.
“Um.”
You really thought at some moment Jungkook would have this internal revelation and shrink away from you, the burden of the past twenty-four hours finally hitting him, but instead he was in la-la land of following you around. A hair’s breath short of a musical number, probably. Delulu was the solulu. And while you wouldn’t advise the avoidance tactic yourself, you weren’t ready to break his reverie just yet.
But.
Sooner was better than later.
“Do you feel better?” you asked.
The dark cloud poisoned his eyes a little but not as much as before. “Uh… I don’t know.”
You hadn’t expected much of an answer. There was still a little sting of disappointment, though. “Pain is not as bad as everyone makes it out to be,” you said. “And a complicated emotion at that.”
His shoulder leaned against the doorframe but not in the stance of blocking your way out. It was more like he needed something else to hold him up. He still put on a brave face though. “I… I just feel like I wasted my time more than anything else,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair and making it worse. “Shit, even fucking around like this was a million times better than whatever the fuck I was doing for the last two years.” He started, realizing how that sounded. “Not that – Not that this was fucking around, I mean…!”
You laughed.
Jungkook stared at you, his panic frozen.
You shook your head. “It was fucking around,” you said with a smirk.
“No, I don’t–”
You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s the only way I know how to cope myself.”
The conversation died.
The words from your mouth finally caught up to your brain. You stiffened, shooting Jungkook a flustered look and seeing a reflection of your emotion in his expression. “I mean… Comfort others. No. Well. I… It sounds worse than it is…” You trailed off, making it indeed sound worse than it was. “You’re… You wanted it?” It was supposed to be a statement but it came out as a question.
“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah, I did,” he stuttered, his eyes darted away swiftly, embarrassment evident. “S-Sorry.”
“No, I did too,” you added, and then abruptly cleared your throat. You sighed, annoyed at yourself for making this more difficult than it should be. “I… I really didn’t want you to do anything stupid. You seemed so… so sad. It bothered me. I wanted to do something for you,” you confessed after a pause. You chewed on the side of your lower lip. “Not that anything I’ve done mattered, I don’t think I’m a god or anything, I can’t control your feelings, so…”
“You are… You are probably the closest thing to a god I know.”
You raised your head and Jungkook was trying not to look at you and failing. He was picking at the paint on your doorframe, or at least pretending like he was.
“In the flesh. ‘Cause I guess we can’t really see gods and stuff…”
He was rambling a bunch of nonsense.
And you didn’t know why, but there was this feeling. It wasn’t about if you found him physically appealing. It wasn’t even about how endearing you found his habits, or about how he told you everything while pretending like he wasn’t, or about how you had an affinity for doing things that were not really the hallmarks of a good person. There was just this feeling. This awkwardness that somehow didn’t feel negative. This state of high that wasn’t going away even though you weren’t really thinking about screwing him again. You might never see him after this. You might see him for a little bit and part. These were all probable outcomes. Forever only existed in the afterlife which was why you lived on a false prayer and a why-the-fuck-not attitude. You knew all this.
And yet, the feeling persisted.
“I must say,” you mused, staring at him, this feeling bubbling up your ribcage. “I haven’t done a stupid thing like this since I was in university.”
Jungkook blinked at you.
“Which was years ago,” you clarified. “I thought I was over that phase.”
Your eyes went to his tattoos. Then back to his face. He had a bunch of ear piercings you noticed right now. To be fair, you weren’t exactly ogling his earlobes while he was sobbing into his duffel bag. That would be weird. He noticed you looking. Consciously but trying to play it cool, he shifted his right arm to show off a little more. You pretended that you didn’t notice while totally noticing. This close to an eyebrow wiggle. And then you suddenly remembered something.
“Erm… Where are you gonna live?”
He frowned as if he, too, hadn’t thought that far. “Uh. I dunno. I was gonna stay with Namjoon-hyung a couple days and then look up apartments…” He looked pained. “I might have to rent a room… I can’t go back to Busan. My work is here. Man…”
“Ah,” you timidly agreed. “Yeah. Good call.”
There was a pregnant silence.
“But the leasing office only gives out two keys,” you thought out loud. “And I have his other one. So… I could give it to you. But then you would have to be the one that comes to rescue him every time he’s locked himself out. I guess I could let him stay my place until you arrive. Or maybe you have a flexible schedule, so it wouldn’t be an issue.”
Jungkook rubbed his chest, wincing. “Oh… I’m a videographer. I have a schedule every two weeks, but there are odd call times, especially when we are filming outside… depends on the client and what they need. Uh…”
You coughed awkwardly. “Hm. I work from home. So. I’m always here, basically.”
Both of you were avoiding each other’s eyes. There was another, heavily pregnant silence.
You cast him a sidelong glance.
He gave you a similar hesitant but hopeful look.
“You don’t know me,” you reminded him. “I could be really horrible to live with.”
Jungkook peered over your head to observe the state of your bathroom. He glanced back to you. “Looks clean to me.” His eyes were shining. So bright. So adorable. It was over for you.
“I spend all of my free time rotting on my couch and watching YouTube,” you admitted, weakly trying to dissuade him.
“Me too!” He chimed in, a little too excitedly. He coughed and straightened a bit. “Uh… I cook too. And do laundry. I’m really good at household chores. I can show you. I can clean right now!”
You grabbed his arm before he could shoot away and top-down scrub your apartment at three in the morning butt naked. “Er, we could… Do a trial run. Of you…” You noticed that you had yanked him hard enough so that you were now staring at his chest as you spoke. With each word, you raised your line of vision. From his clavicle, to his neck, to his dark pink lips clearly indicative of shared kisses, to his soulful eyes gazing down at you.
Yearning.
“Living with me,” you finished, loosening your hold a bit. Trailing down to his wrist. “If you want.”
His eyes shifted but he was doing anything but resisting. “You sure… About that?”
You weren’t and at the same time you were.
“It’s only until you get back on your feet.” You tried to sound firm about it but somehow you were holding his hand now, clutching it tightly. “I’m sure you want… More space. Or there will be something you don’t like about this apartment. For example, I only have one bed. And it’s a full-sized bed.”
Jungkook was staring into your eyes and his face was getting closer.
“Sounds nice,” he murmured, his breath against your nose.
“It’s not,” you assured him, and you tilted your head up to kiss him.
--
masterpost
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pastryfication · 7 months ago
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homework | leclerc sister
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pairings: charles leclerc x sister!reader, arthur leclerc x sister!reader
summary: you’re completely stuck on your homework, and arthur isn’t to much help. luckily, charles comes to your rescue.
warnings: mentions of physics the absolutely worst subject known to date
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sitting at the kitchen table, your physics textbook and a notebook, filled with scribbled equations and crossed-out attempts at solving them, open in front of you, you feel like you are ready to cry. the clock on the wall is ticking away, reminding you of how little time you have left before the assignment is due. your older brother, arthur, is slouched in the chair beside you, brows furrowing at the same problem.
“i don’t get it,” you say, frustration and a hint of desperation evident in your voice. “why does physics have to be so complicated?”
arthur shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “i really wish i could help more, but i’m as lost as you are. i haven’t touched this stuff since high school.” he says, sighing at the defeated look on your face. you had called him almost in tears, begging him to help you, but he hadn’t been able to do anything but calm you slightly down. physics was as much his strong suit as it was yours. you really should have called lorenzo instead.
the two of you continue to stare at the problem, hoping that somehow the solution will magically appear. it doesn’t. instead, you feel the pressure mounting even more.
“i just don’t get how i’m so bad at it, arthur.” you sigh leaning your head on the table as you do your best to keep the tears at bay. “i have no problems in math or chemistry. it doesn’t make sense.”
“hey,” he leans forward, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “you’re not bad at it. it’s just a hard assignment. even i can’t solve it.”
you nod your head slightly, pulling yourself together as you sit back up in your seat, but arthur keeps his hand firmly placed on your back, his thump moving up and down in a repetitive, comforting motion.
“let’s try again.” he suggests, attempting to sound hopeful, but you both know that it won’t get any easier just because you try a tenth time.
it only leaves the two of you even more frustrated when you once again have to give up. the new site arthur had opened to find help proves to be as useless as his competence, so you’re just about to suggest giving up and accepting a failed grade when you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing.
“hey, are you home?” charles voice calls out from the hallway.
you and arthur exchange a surprised look. charles is rarely home. his demanding career keeps him traveling around the world for most of the year, and even now, when he’s on a break between races, he spends most of his time with his friends and girlfriend, so it’s a rare treat to have him standing in your childhood home.
charles walks into the kitchen where you are sitting, his presence instantly filling the room with a sense of ease and comfort, because your older brother is here. everything will be fine now. he looks at the two of you with a curious smile. “what’s going on here? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
you hesitate for a moment before sinking further down into your seat. “we’re stuck,” you admit, gesturing to the textbook and your chaotic notes. “physics should be banned. it’s ruining my mental health”
charles raises an eyebrow in amusement as he puts away his things and takes a seat across from you, glancing at the problem. “mind if i take a look?”
“be our guest,” arthur replied with a huff, sliding the notebook over to him.
you watch as charles studies the problem, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. despite his career in racing, he always had a knack for understanding complex concepts and problem-solving. you observe as his eyes scan the equations, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration.
“okay, let’s see,” charles begins, picking up a pen. “this part here,” he points to one of your scribbled attempts, “is on the right track, but you need to account for the force in the opposite direction as well. it’s a vector addition problem.”
you lean in closer, trying to follow his explanation. “i did not understand any of that.” you admit.
“okay…” he seems deep in though for a moment before he begins breaking it down step by step, making the complications seem much simpler. you and arthur nod along, starting to see where you went wrong.
“thank you so so much.” you gush in gratitude as you finally apply the correct information to your rapport.
“no problem,” he replies, grinning as your face loses the previous tension. “it’s nice to know that you still need your big brother sometimes.”
he is teasing you, so much is evident from his facial expression, but it’s also clear that there is some hidden sincerity in his words. he used to help the two of you with everything, and although he wouldn’t admit it, it hurts to see arthur taking over the big brother role when he‘s away. he was supposed to always take care of you.
arthur is smiling brightly at charles as he claps him on the back. “you saved us. we’d have been here all night.”
charles laughs, leaning back in his chair. “anytime. but i’m a bit disappointed in your lack of knowledge on this subject, arth.”
arthur gives him an offended look. “we can’t all be unhealthily obsessed with physics.”
as they continue their back and forth banter, you contentedly close your textbook. feeling a weight lift off your shoulders, you realize how much you’ve missed having charles around. his ability to jump into any situation and lend a hand is something you’re eternally grateful for.
tonight, he’s not just your older brother or a famous racing star—he’s the hero who saved you from the perils of physics homework.
a hero who’s always ready to save you from anything. always just a call away.
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enwoso · 6 months ago
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CHANGED — arsenal wfc x lionesses!reader
now i swear someone requested this but i literally can’t find the request in my inbox at all and i’m actually starting to think ive gone crazy and that i dreamt this request but anyways part two for hyper cause if i dreamt the request or not i loved it for what i can remember of it🙃
read hyper here
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masterlist
it had been a few weeks since your chat with leah, and slowly your behaviour had started to change and not for the worse. but for the better!
it took a few more scoldings from leah and kim for doing  silly things like, putting food colouring in pelovas shampoo or folding over all the pages in emily's book she was reading or when kept interrupting steph when she was filming a thirty second clip for the media team it ending up taking the australian thirty minutes to film the video instead of a minute.
but after one to many sit downs with leah and kim something clicked in your head and your mischievous acts slowly stopped.
so much so that in the first few days when you hadn't pulled a joke on anyone, the arsenal girls were wondering if you were sick or if something drastic had happened.
the girls feeling on edge about not having to check over their stuff or checking over door handles incase you had gotten to them before they had.
“y/n are you sure your not sick, there’s no way you’ve just turned down kyra’s attempt to cause havoc again!”
“i’m a changed women stephy! that’s the old me!”
and while you were technically a changed women it was all because of that big goal you had looming over your head. that you wanted to reach.
getting to the euro 2025.
yeah you still pulled a small harmless joke like scaring alessia whenever she came around a corner but that was just banter plus her face every time you did it was priceless.
plus leah said you were allowed to have some fun!
"you've had a good session today y/n" kim complimented you as she sat down next to you in the changing room you busy taking off your boots, kim felt a lot more relaxed the past few weeks not having to look over her shoulder every time she took a step in the training ground.
"thanks kim" you smiled at the captain, "let's hope you have another masterclass this weekend ey?" she nudged you as a small laugh came from you as kim was bringing up your two goals you got last weekend in the league.
"i hope so" you shrugged, your mind wasn't really on the weekend as much as it should you were more concerned about if you were going to get the phone call tomorrow or not, which would determine where your family were having their summer holiday.
"you thinking about the getting the call up?" kim asked quietly knowing your head was clearly somewhere else due to your lack of chattiness, normally your teammates would have a hard time getting you to stop talking.
you hummed as you nodded, kim bumping her shoulder into yours. "you'll get the call up, there's been a massive improvement in you over the last few weeks y/n"
you looked up to kim, seeing a genuine look on her face, "i mean it, and not only on the pitch but off the pitch too!"
"gosh your full of compliments today kimmy! did you finally wake up on the right side of the bed" you joked as you watched kim roll her eyes a small scoff coming from her.
"anddd she back! there's the y/n i know!"
it was the next day and it was safe to say you hardly slept spending too long up thinking about what you would do if you didn't get the call up, all those extra sessions, all those days spent trying to change your behaviour would have been for nothing.
but also thinking about what you would do if you did get the call up, how happy you would be and how proud your family would be of you.
walking into the colony you were tired, you were dragging your feet as your walked. your body feeling tired and you hadn't even done anything today yet.
grabbing your usual breakfast and slouching down on a chair on the closest table. "heard anything yet?" you looked up to see leah raising her eyebrows at you. shaking your head you began to eat praying it would wake you up a little.
"the list doesn't get posted until 12 so—" you hummed along with whatever leah was saying before you along with the other who were sat on your table fell into your usual small talk.
"y/n! your phones ringing!" alessia tapped you on the shoulder, your eyes snapping to the phone screen an unknown number on the screen.
"well answer it then!" leah said quickly as you scrambled to answer. standing up and walking over to the stand in the hallway where you'd be able to hear whoever was calling better.
leah, along with beth, kim, lia and alessia were all looking trying to decipher what you were saying and what the scenario was.
"do you think she's got the call up?" beth whispered as leah was trying so hard to lip read what you were saying but was really having no luck as she hadn't a clue what you were saying.
"surely, she'd be a great addition to the squad for the euros" alessia pointed out as beth hummed, along with lia and kim nodding along.
"oh she'll be gutted if she doesn't get it" lia sighed as kim give a knowing look. while she was silently praying for you hoping that you would as she dread to think about your reaction if you didn't get it.
"will you shut up i'm trying to listen!" leah huffed as she scowl at the group before going back to try her lip reading again it feeling as though you'd been standing in that hallway on the phone for the last hour when in reality it had been probably less than ten minutes.
"how is she able to hear when there's a wall there-" alessia whispered in beth's direction as beth shrugged waving off what leah had just said.
"right act normal she coming back-" leah spoke fast turning her body back around to the position she was sat in when you left trying to make out that she hadn't just been intensely staring at the conversation you were having on the phone.
"oh no she doesn't look very happy-" lia whispered, you walking in a small frown on your face. as your shoulders were hanging low as you sighed sitting down in your original seat.
"oh- y/n i'm so sor—"
"I'M GOING TO THE EUROS BABY!" you cheered, your face changing in a split second from a frown to a big cheesy grin as the canteen when quiet for a minute as they all processed what you'd said.
the girls all jumped up hugging you and congratulating you as they told you how proud they were of you.
“what did sarina say?” beth asked as the celebrations calmed down and everyone had sat back down.
“she just said she’d seen how well i’ve been playing and she thinks i could be good option for a game changer at the euros” you said with the same smile, it not leaving your face and probably wouldn’t be for a long time.
leah sat listening to you as you recalled the phone call over to them, as she sat like a proud mother. "yes kiddo! switzerland won't know what has hit them!"
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bruisedboys · 2 years ago
Note
Eddie loves his shy girl so much, he’ll always call her “my girl” or “the wife” “the mrs” around others just to watch how red she gets 🥹🥹 but soon he finds that calling her the wife feels natural and right, he realizes she’s the only girl he ever wants
he totally does omg. bro def calls you his wife with absolutely no shame. thank u for the ask angel!!
summary: eddie calls shy!you a lot of names. all of them make you flustered beyond belief
shy!fem!reader 1k words
Steve’s invited you all to drinks to celebrate him and Robin finally copping a job that isn’t slinging ice cream or sitting behind a video store counter all day. Eddie’s helping you pick out an outfit. It’s taking longer than you’d expected. Something about posing for Eddie makes you so nervous you can barely walk.
“Are you done yet?” Eddie’s voice on the other side of the door is far from impatient, even though it should be by now.
You grumble something incoherent instead of answering. Eddie heard you and laughs.
“Y/N,” he says seriously. The effect is ruined because you can hear his smile in the way he says your name. “We’re gonna be late, baby. Come out and show me the dress. I bet this is the one.”
You stare at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. It is a nice dress. It’s a good length and makes your chest look nice, the colour looks pretty on your skin. Still, you’re embarrassed. You don’t like dressing up. It feels attention-seeking.
You scrub your face with both hands and take a big breath. “Alright, fine.”
You turn away from the mirror before you can stop yourself and yank the bathroom door open. Eddie’s waiting for you on your bed, sitting pretty, if a little slouched. He has bad posture. But his back goes rigid when he sees you — he sits up straight and lets his jaw drop.
“Babe,” he half-whispers, totally in awe, his eyes blown wide. He’s definitely laying it on thick but you can sense the genuineness underneath it all. His eyes traverse a path down your body and back up again, leaving your skin burning. And he hasn’t even touched you yet. “Baby. Honey. Darling. You look amazing.”
You flush all over despite yourself. “Eddie,” you say, chiding.
Eddie pretends to look offended. “What?” He leaps off the bed and gets one hand around your waist, the fabric of your dress shushing under his touch. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re a real stunner, you know that?”
His other hand finds your elbow and pushes all the way up to your bicep, his fingers pressing into your skin. You burn like a furnace where he touches you. You knew this part was coming.
“Thank you, Eddie,” you say, genuine underneath all the shyness.
Eddie looks like he’s about to say something more but you’re saved from his doting by the phone next to your bed ringing loudly. You make to get it but Eddie beats you to it.
“Hello?” He says into the phone, sounding half-annoyed. “Oh. Hi, Steve. Yeah, no, we’re coming. The Mrs is just getting ready.” A pause in which Eddie meets your eye and winks. You flush even worse than you already were. Eddie goes back to talking to Steve. “Uh-huh. Yeah, we’ll be there in ten. Bye, Harrington.”
Eddie puts the phone back and you try to compose yourself. The Mrs, he’d called you. You feel like you could die.
Meanwhile Eddie’s grabbing his jacket from the bedpost and shrugging it on. “He’s badgering us about being late,” he says, pushing his arms through the sleeves. “We better get going, dove.” He looks up at you, half in his jacket. “Do you need me to carry anything for you?”
My heart? You think. Then maybe your chest wouldn’t hurt so much. You shake your head.
“No, um. That’s okay.” You push your hair behind your ears and try not to show how much he’s undone you with his antics. “I’ll just grab my purse.”
Eddie smiles at you. “Okay. I’ll meet you in the car?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
Ten minutes later you’ve arrived at the bar and Eddie’s leading you inside with a hand at the small of your back. He smells good, like the cologne you’d bought him forever ago that he wears basically every day.
You step inside the semi-crowded bar and Eddie spots your friend group before you do.
“They’re over there, by the window,” he says, pointing. “C’mon.”
He takes your hand and pulls you in the direction of your friends. You let him guide you and he pleases, his hand a warm weight in yours. You stare at the back of his head until you arrive at the table. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan are all here.
“Munson!” Robin cheers. Your eyes zero in on the drink in her hand and you think she’s maybe already a bit tipsy. Then she spots you and beams. “Y/N!”
You smile back. “Hi, Robs. Hi, everyone, sorry we’re late.” You give a sheepish laugh and glance at Eddie. “My fault.”
“It was worth it though, right?” Eddie says enthusiastically, to the group at whole. He throws an arm around your shoulder and jostles you gently. “Doesn’t my girl look great?”
My girl. Your face burns. There’s a chorus of agreement from around the table — it makes you feel better but not better enough that you’re not still flushing furiously.
“Eddie,” you mumble, avoiding everyone’s eyes and staring at the tabletop instead. You elbow him in the side, too gentle for what you feel he deserves.
Eddie laughs loudly. “What?” He asks, even though he knows exactly what.
You huff and wish the floor would swallow you up. When it doesn’t, you let Eddie pull you into the booth next to Robin. It’s a tight squeeze and Eddie’s thigh presses into yours, his jeans warm and rough on your skin where your dress rides up your thighs.
You think Eddie notices this too because he lets his hand fall to your lap instead of his own, spreading his hand over your thigh, his fingers grazing your bare skin. He squeezes you and you try not to show how much he affects you.
“Drinks?” He asks you, like everything is completely normal and you’re not a nervous, flustered wreck right now.
“Okay,” you say, unable to get more than one word out.
Eddie grins wolfishly. You think he’s probably planning on being like this all night. You don’t mind as much as you should.
-
“Okay,” you say, unable to get more than one word out.
Eddie grins wolfishly. You think he’s probably planning on being like this all night. You don’t mind as much as you should.
-
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enhafilthandfiction · 2 years ago
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Math Problem - Sim Jake
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Summary : When you ask your step brother Jake to help you with your math homework, you didn't expect to find yourself bouncing on his dick instead.
Pairing : Stepbro!Jake X Fem!Reader
Warnings : Jake and y/n aren't related, Smutty fluff, reader is kinda innocent but not a virgin (just inexperienced), reader's first time giving a blowjob, Jake is a flirt, dirty talk, nipple/breast play (f.receiving), grinding, making out, unprotected sex (no condom, even though you should use a condom), aftercare and fluff, some cringe at the end?
Word Count : 2,191 words
Masterlist - Tips
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"Jake!" You call out, your voice echoing throughout the corridor and reaching his ears. He sighs and walks over to your room, only to find you, with your head slouched down onto your desk in frustration.
"Y/nnn what is it?" he questions playfully, nudging your shoulder and giggling at your depressed state. He assumed it was just school work that you couldn't make sense of.
"I can't solve this" you whined annoyingly, throwing your pen in frustration. You look up at him, "Maybe you can help me?" you ask in a little voice, fluttering your eyelashes at him.
"Everybody knows I'm the best at math" he brags, twitching his eyebrows up and down. He leans over your chair, his face just an inch away from yours. You can't help but admire his side profile, and the way his eyebrows furrow in thought while he tries to understand the math question. "The equation is on the book, not on my face" He laughs, after he noticed you staring at him.
Your face flushes at his words and you look at the textbook in front of you, avoiding his gaze. But now, there was no way you were going to focus, when you have his face so close to your flushed one.
"geez why don't you have another chair in here? I'm getting tired standing up" He says dramatically, placing his hands on his hips and pretending to stretch.
"You can sit on my chair" You offer gingerly. You stand up, straightening your skirt down and he can't help but take a look at your ass while you're facing the other way. He gulps and sits on the chair, where your pretty ass was sitting seconds ago.
"I wouldn't mind if you sat on my lap Y/n. I don't want you getting tired of standing" he emphasizes, patting his thighs. You look at him for a mere second and give in. You firstly sit at the tip of his knees, right at the edge, but he's quick to wrap his hands around your waist and pull you closer, until your back was against his chest. You let out a quiet gasp that he seems to ignore.
"Ok so... Let's see" He squints at the textbook and grabs the pen that your previously threw, and marked something on the page. You eyed his perfect hands, thick fingers that would fit perfectly inside you...
He takes in a deep breath, involuntary breathing in the scent of your shampoo. He lets out a deep sigh as he realises he won't be able to concentrate since he's popping a boner. "Y/n I don't think I can focus if you keep clenching like that" he warns, placing his hands on your hips once again.
You immediately freeze and let out the breath you've been holding in. "Huh?" you ask him innocently, hoping (or not) that you've heard him incorrectly.
"I'll get hard if you keep clenching that little pussy on me" he lets out bluntly, sighing once again.
"S-sorry" you apologize, stuttering in disbelief.
"It's alright" he assures, his hands now rubbing your sides gently "Unless you want me to get hard...?" He says with a fake frown covering his features and you decide to scoot back into his crotch and grind down into him.
He can't stop the whimper that escaped past his plump lips, losing his self control as he definitely feels himself getting hard now. Math problem long forgotten, you get up and face him, kneeling before him and placing your hands on his knees. "Can I see it?" You ask hopefully, eyes shining in excitement.
"How could I say no to you?" he says, already pulling at the strings of his sweats and pulling them down along with his underwear. His half-hard dick springs out, before resting on his thighs. You gawk at it, your mouth watering at the sight. "You wanna taste?" He asks, grabbing his base and stroking it at a slow pace.
"I-I've never-" he cuts you off "Sucked dick? Well mine would be the first to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours" He breathes out as your scoot closer and replace his big hand with your small one. You lean in and guide his dick to your mouth.
You kitten-lick it a few times before placing it on your tongue and hollowing your cheeks, taking him into your mouth, just like porn videos that you've watched. His head falls back against the chair as he struggles to keep his hands to himself.
"Mm e-easy with the teeth" he hisses, the slight pain dissolving into pleasure as you keep swirling your tongue around his tick cock. "Yeahh j-just like that baby" he moans, catching a glimpse of your cleavage before closing his eyes and drowning in the pleasure your warm mouth was giving him "S-so good for me"
"Can I grab your hair?" he hesitates, and you weakly nod at him without taking your mouth off his length. The second his hands grip your hair, he's gone. Too lost in the pleasure, he bobs your head up and down his shaft, tears starting to water your eyes. "Fuuuuckk" his cock meets the back of your throat and you gag around him, bringing him to the edge. Just as he's about to cum, he pulls your head away from his cock and leans back against the chair restlessly.
You look up at him confused "I don't wanna cum just yet" he answers the questions roaming inside your head and strokes your cheek with his right thumb. "That was so good, fuck, I'm sorry if I hurt you" he apologizes with sudden guilt, but you're quick to reassure him you were fine (even though your throat was already feeling sore).
Your eyes landed back on his cock "It's gotten so big" you look up at him and back down to his cock. He smiles at you and gestures for you to stand up. He pulls your back down on his lap so that his tip is against your tummy. His hands caress your cheeks once again before sliding down your neck, to your shoulders and landing on your chest.
He massages your breasts and squishes them together, liking how they almost jump out of your shirt. He reaches for the hem of your shirt and plays with it "Can I take it off?" he asks blushing, like the didn't just have his dick down your throat. He doesn't hesitate when you nod at him and lift your arms up.
When he realises you're not wearing a bra, he swears his dick twitches at the sight and he can't help but ogle the plumpness of your breasts. His hands reach up to hold them, squishing them in awe. He locks his eyes with yours as he leans down to suckle on your left nipple, swirling his tongue around your areola, making you moan out in pleasure.
With each passing second, your hips unconsciously grinded against his thigh, your hands resting on his abs for support. His tip kept rubbing against the soft skin of your lower tummy, spurring him on even further.
When his soft lips leave your breasts, you look at him with need and place your hands on his shoulders. "C-can you take off your top too?" you ask, almost panting out of breath already.
He doesn't even bother replying, peeling off his top before you could barely finish asking him to. His eagerness clearly showing, and for the first time ever, he gets closer to you, his face just centimetres away from yours.
He looks into your eyes, as if asking for permission, "May I?" his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, then back up to examine your expression. You offer him a small nod.
He finally leans in, closing the gap between you two, and he thinks he's never tasted lips as sweet as yours.
His lips are on yours and you think you've never felt anything softer massaging against your own lips.
He keeps his tongue to himself for now, sensing your lack of breath. He pulls away for you to get a breather. You look at him, eyes slightly wider than before and you realise he's completely naked and you're topless.
For a second he panics as you almost start to panic. "Have you ever... done this before?" he asks curiously. You nod his way and he visibly looks relieved. You have, but only a few, countable times.
His hunger is suddenly back, diving right back in and this time experimentally licking your lips. You immediately open your mouth for his tongue to enter and explore your mouth.
Suddenly, you find yourself in a heated make out session with him. While your tongues circle around each other and your teeth clash together, his hands are on your thighs, under your skirt, massaging the supple flesh.
You find the zipper at one side of the skirt and unzip it, letting your skirt hang loosely around your waist. "Take it off" you mumble between kisses.
His hands reach higher till they find your underwear, moving it to the sides to feel your wetted core. He grunts into the kiss as he feels how drenched your panties are. "S-so... mm.. So wet.. hmm.. for m-me" he manages out between kisses, your lips limiting him from speaking properly.
When you've finally grew impatient, you pulled away, removed your skirt and undies and sat back right on him, with each knee on each of his side, trapping him into that stupid chair. You lift yourself up and he holds his base at your entrance.
"I don't have a condo-"
"I'm on the pill" you cut him off impatiently.
He mutters out a "fuck" underneath his breath and with one hand holding your hips and the other guiding his cock into you "Ready?" he inserts himself into your soaking slit.
You both throw your heads back at the same time, pleasure coursing through your veins. "Shit" he holds his breath, trying to contain himself and not cum yet as he finds the perfect pace for both of you. Not too fast, but definitely not boring either.
You're gripping onto his shoulders at the immense pleasure, feeling every inch of him inside of you, rubbing against your walls deliciously. The more you thought about it, the harder you clenched around him, preventing him from going any faster.
"Fuck you're so tight for me" he curses, holding your hips and thrusting up inside of you. You clench harder around him, bringing your hands to his cheeks and forcing his lips against yours. He gladly kisses you back, hands still on your hips, bouncing you up and down his cock.
His tip kept hitting your cervix, bringing you and him closer and closer to the edge. "Shit I'm close" He groans, his thrusts getting sloppier by each passing second.
"You close?" He whispers, leaning back to examine your facial expressions. You nod your head whimpering a small 'mhm', too fucked out to speak.
His right hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing gentle yet tight circles to your nub generously. You face scrunches up with pleasure, eyes completely shut as you feel him twitching inside of you.
He suddenly halts his thrusts, his head tilting back and he lets out a grunt, his thighs starting to shake beneath you.
Upon feeling him cumming inside you, you clench one more time before coating him with your own cum, suddenly trying to escape his touch due to over sensitivity.
Still inside you, he places one hand at the back of your head and pulls you into his chest, resting his chin on your head, his chest rising and falling as he tries to calm down his breathing.
"That was... intense" he breathes out after a few moments, tracing patterns on your bare back. You hum back at him, feeling his lips on the crown of your head. "Did you enjoy it?" he asks you sweetly.
"Mhm, did you?" you ask back.
"Fuck yeah" he weakly chuckles "Had the best time" he holds you closer to him. "You're not hurt aren't you? Or in any pain?" he questions worriedly, now stroking your hair.
"Nope, you didn't hurt me Jakey, I'm alright" You looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back at you and he couldn't help but place a short, chaste kiss on your lips. "That was good" you whispered "But I still got math to do" you ended with a whine.
"No problem y/n-ie, just get up, turn around, and sit right back on my lap" he says in an almost sarcastic tone.
"Are you asking me to cockwarm you while we work math?" you ask him suspiciously.
"Maybeeee" he looks down, then back up at you with puppy eyes "Pleaseee, don't go yet, mini Jakey already misses being inside you"
You roll your eyes "Fine. Maybe after we clean up and wear some clothes" you announced.
Safe to say that your math homework wasn't going to get done anytime soon, everybody knows that round 2 is right around the corner.
"Math can wait"
"Jakeee!"
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Hiii ^-^ Thanks a lot for reading omg!! Hope you enjoyed it, requests are always open <3 Lyyyy
If you enjoyed this post, you can help support my blog by tipping me here! Anything is highly appreciated!
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albaskies · 2 months ago
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hehe i loved your short hinny fic!! it was soo great!! ❤️❤️❤️ can you please write another hinny fic, maybe hbp and include lots of yearning from harry 🙈🙈 whether that yearning is satisfied is completely up to you!!
thank you so much, anon, that's very kind ❤️ i managed to scramble something up based on your prompt, and had lots of fun doing it. i couldn't make hbp work, so i hope you don't mind i went with early dh instead. i hope you enjoy some angsty yearning courtesy of our very own hj potter!
***
Don’t look at her.
Harry repeats those words to himself like a mantra as he absent-mindedly stacks different kinds of desserts on his plate. The air under the marquee has become thicker now that several guests have stood up to dance, and Harry has started to feel very uncomfortable in Barny Weasley’s sweatier-than-normal body.
He grunts at the dessert selection available on the buffet table, wondering what kind of boring wedding does not serve treacle tart. But then again, he has never been to a wedding before, so what does he know, really.
He walks away in search of somewhere to sit down, carefully trying to shut down his peripheral vision, his gaze dutifully fixed right in front of him. 
Don’t look at her.
Since after the ceremony, he has decided to avoid looking at the dance floor at all costs. He is convinced this is the safest way to keep his mind clear, without being distracted by stupid promises made to stupid best mates, or by the temptation to throttle big-headed Quidditch players - nobody in particular, of course.
He slouches in the first empty chair he finds, his eyes focused on his plate and the assortment of sweets he is never going to eat. He nervously starts drumming with his fingers on the table, while conversation and laughter bubble all around him.
He could take a look at the dancefloor, he reckons, just to check that Ron and Hermione have not started bickering. A quick peek won’t hurt anybody, right?
Do not. Look. At her.
Except that he cannot not look at her. He cannot help but make silly excuses to steal a glance at her every now and then; he cannot help but look for her in the colourful crowd. He cannot help but know exactly where she is under the marquee, even when he is talking to somebody else, when he is eating a bite, or when she is joining Luna in her extravagant dance.
Because Ginny is pure, burning light. He is drawn to her like a flower is drawn to the sun, and he does not know how to contain this dangerous feeling building up in his chest. It’s powerful, urgent, and it makes his heart ache like never before. 
Defeated by his own sorry arse, he looks up and quickly scans the room, trying to convince himself that he is actually checking on Ron and Hermione. He is not fooling anyone, really. 
It only takes him a split second to find her. Because this time she is not talking to somebody else, or eating a bite, or dancing with Luna. This time she is right there in front of him. No, she is actually walking towards him.
Oh bloody hell.
The room seems to blur around her, its noise and chaos fading to a hum as Harry helplessly watches her drawing closer and closer.
He wishes he had the strength to stop her, he really does. But there’s only so much that a man can do when the woman he loves walks towards him surrounded by that golden aura of light, so painfully beautiful, so painfully real.
And just like that, she sits in the empty chair right next to him. She doesn't say anything, yet he understands everything. 
Silence has always been easy with Ginny. It has been easy for longer than he can remember. 
He really should have known, the miserable prat. He should have known that love is a quiet, secret language shared through the simplest of glances. Love is moving together without speaking and understanding each other in a way that no one else ever could. He should have known that clammy hands, fumbling conversations and awkward silences over hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s are an absolute pile of nothing compared to this.
And yet - he couldn’t have known, could he, that he would have found love in a hard, blazing gaze, in the sweet sound of laughter lingering in the air, in little elbows and butter dishes, in a gloriously setting sun. Maybe the realisation would not have struck him so hard, if he had. And maybe, with Ginny, he cannot have it in any other way.
He does not know for how long they remain sitting like that, a foot from each other, without uttering a single word. Their bodies are not remotely touching, and yet he feels engulfed by her, by her flowery scent, by her blazing and unwavering light. Their bodies are not even touching, and yet he feels her warmth everywhere on his body, under his skin, brushing his soul.
The other guests might think he looks like a miserable sod, stiffly glued to his chair just to be around her, just to drink her in for one more minute.
Or maybe they just think he is the weird cousin who creeps on younger girls at family functions. Whatever. He is not even sure he cares.
After all, she has not left yet. She is, too, sitting there on the edge of her chair, incapable of walking away. She stays, and that’s all that matters to him.
A sudden glint of yellow, and Harry notices Luna waving at Ginny from the crowd, calling her to the dance floor. 
They both sigh. The spell of silent and blissful oblivion around them is broken once again.
‘I think I’m going to join Luna,’ Ginny says quietly. 
He is so grateful, like a pathetic, smitten idiot, to hear her voice again. Even if what she says rips a hole through his heart.
When she finally does get up from her chair, it looks like she is wearing a weighted vest around her shoulders. He feels something breaking inside of him.
‘Oh.’ He chokes, clears his throat. ‘Yeah. Have fun.’
Her beautiful, sad eyes linger on him for a moment too long before she gives him a curt nod, and slowly walks away.
What a stupid thing to say, he tells himself. What a stupid, idiotic thing to say, when all he should have done instead was ask her, please stay. Please don’t go, please don’t leave me. I can’t bear to be away from you, I just can’t let you go. I’m sorry. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. I am so sorry.
A miserable man, he is. A miserable, miserable man who is about to go on a suicide mission but has to push away the only person who makes him feel truly invincible. 
Would it be so bad to dive into the crowd, grab her hand, hold her close to his chest, and drown in that blissful oblivion again? Would it be so bad to kiss her soft, burning red lips, horrifying all the guests and the Weasleys together, hearing someone try and remedy the scandal by explaining that Oh but he’s not really a cousin, you know, more of a distant relative.
Maybe he really should go in there, ask her to run away with him and be just the two of them forever, forget about Dumbledore’s instructions, sod all this Chosen One nonsense. Choose his own happiness, just this once.
But then a silver lynx brings the news that the Ministry’s fallen and chaos unravels. He later ends up wondering to himself if those stupid, idiotic words will be the last ones he will ever say to her.
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devoutekuna · 7 months ago
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Matching their father's energy
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Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto
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Sukuna-
Sukuna's daughter definitely inherited the mouth that can move all around her body, normally her father would use it to bite her whenever she was acting like a brat, and she took that upon herself to do the same, finally mastering the movement of the small mouth, always keeping it on the palm of her hand. Using it to her advantage as she bit anyone she found annoying, especially her father, even trying to sharpen the teeth inside of it so that it would hurt more, but her father didn't even notice that he had been bitten since it was so weak to him. "Did you feel that?" Grinning at him, as her head stuck into his eyesight. "Feel what?" Pushing her head out of his way, he hadn't even noticed that she had bitten it. A distraught look appearing on her face as she heard his question. "But I bit you!" Waving her hand in his face. "Didn't feel a thing" smirking at her as he put her on the floor.
Nanami-
"Thank you love" kissing your cheek as you handed him a coffee. He was sat reading a book at the kitchen table, his daughter sat opposite him,marrying to copy his actions, first by reading a book, staring at it despite not understanding a word it said, it was about finances so of course she didn't get it, even putting on someone's glasses she found. "Can I have one too mummy?" Talking about the coffee as she pointed at it.
"No, I'm not giving you a coffee" a small chuckle being heard as he peered over his book, trying to cover it up with a cough. "Why not!?" Acting shocked as if she hadn't been told repeatedly that she wasn't to have caffeine. "Cause I said so." Defending your point and you poured yourself a cup, gloating in her face. "But dad gets one" mumbling under her breath as she slouched In her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.
Geto-
His daughter has seen him countlessly swallow the balls full of curses, watching her father's disgust appear as he washed it away and put on a smile for him daughter, later she had found out about the minty flavour of chewing gum, always going to the shop to buy some with you. Soon enough she wanted to try do what he was doing, finding a small button in the house and shoving it down her throat only to choke on it and fortunately he was there to save her, even though it ended in tears, she still tried again but with bigger objects.
Gojo-
Gojo has a thing for eating big meals, so when his son was born, he wasn't surprised that he had a big appetite just like him. Scoffing down nearly a full tub of ice-cream, it was 2am and Satoru had just woken up for a drink, walking into the kitchen only to find his 3 year old with a spoon in his mouth and a half empty tub of vanilla ice-cream, sat on the tile flooring. "Hi daddy" smiling at the man as he rook the spoon out of his mouth, going in for another spoonful before realising how rude it was not to offer some. Hand stuck out with a spoon attached to it. "Want some?" Oblivious to the fact that he had just eaten half a tub. Scratching his bare stomach as he wore only sweatpants, pondering if he should take the offer. "I'm good" patting the girl's head as he walked towards the fridge.
Toji-
He has a thing for killing people, that's why he was an assassin fortunately your daughter didn't know how to kill nor use her cursed technique. For her birthday she had been begging for a bat after seeing a group of kids playing with one.
"Hiyahh!" Hitting the man with the wooden bat, you didn't understand why she needed a wooden one and not a plastic one, but then again, it was the same bat that a professional baseball player used. "Go away",grabbing the bag and bringing it to his face. "Go use your ball if you want to use this" he didn't understand why she didn't use the ball that came with it, instead trying to smash up anything in her path, though it was normally just cushions.
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kaijuparfait · 7 months ago
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long ramble of me going through the venom trailer because i am insane totally normal about it
this isn't anything professional, just me spouting out random words as i run around in circles like an excited dog-
OK LET'S GO:
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firstly... king please change your clothes its been years, why are you still wearing that exact same outfit???
BUT i am a sucker for the light going over and past Eddie as he walks, i just think it's so cool hehe,,
E: "You should probably know that I have a really dark and unpredictable side to me."
hmmm... i'll believe you. at first, it sounds like he's telling this to Venom, but I wouldn't be surprised if Eddie is telling this to someone else and this "dark and unpredictable side" is Venom.... Or he is telling this to Venom and Eddie just really wants to kill now which. I am ok with that, love that for them, they should be allowed to do what they want
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cleanly punching off the lock via the ~ Power of Friendship ~ (or something like that)
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not the dogs :( i'm assuming this is a place to hold dogs for like. dog fighting?? i think? which is terrible and those guys deserved to get their heads eaten!
E: "I'm giving you a chance, sweetie."
LET. EDDIE. KILL. everyone say thank you Tom Hardy for being Eddie cause WOAH i am. normal.
V: "Just say "when"." E: "...when."
WE'RE SO BACK its just like the "Mask!" "Copy." bit from the first movie omg we're so back, these two make me ill i love them sm
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also Eddie not even flinching at the knife, most likely Venom turning off the pain (or something) but I like to think Eddie's just cool like that (these close ups of Eddie's face makes me wanna do a study on him, just draw him a million times for the fun of it, and i will! Tom Hardy is a beautiful man!)
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either venom is fully acting as shoes or Eddie is wear the most busted up pair of crocs i have ever seen and both options are so great. either way- KICK! that guy is GONE you even see him slouched against the wall, surrounded by bricks in a later scene, Venom and Eddie are not messing around this movie!
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I- hhhhh. ok. I'm ok. Yeah these two are NOT messing around, Eddie could not care less about these dudes, there is no hesitating, no guilt, no fear in this man's expression AND I LOVE IT <333 GET ANGRY! GET SCARY!!!
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AND WE HAVE THE BOI. THERE HE IS!!! the roar sounds different too i think, it's very cool tho, feels like a shrill, higher pitch than i expected but i don't dislike it
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let the dogs be free! they immediately start attacking those guys and i love it <3 doggy :3
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AND EDDIE IS FIGHTING TOO WOOOOO i need to redraw all of these frame cause WHEW! making me blush with these shot compositions, so good. so much trust, Eddie knows Venom will keep him safe and jumps in! literally! i adore how Venom's head is following him too, it's so creepy, the way it just slithers through the air, I wish to send all my love to the teams who work on Venom, there are so many points from the trailer and the first 2 movies that I wanna dissect, just to point out all his little movements, very fun
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speaking of his little movements- squinty eyes :3 and the half venom, half eddie face again! always a win, forever iconic <3
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tearing apart this venom scene OK! the little tendrils by Eddie's face, the way they move around is so UGH its so weird and i adore it! This "pose" is also fun because we really get to see the inside of Venom's mouth, most importantly his teeeeeth, in a long, pretty still shot that isn't when his mouth is wide open, the artist in me is loving it
also the team always does an amazing job on just making Venom look alien- the thick veins, the shiny black skin, and the tendrils that are holding up the bad guy split apart, instead of being just one tentacle, very gross, but in a good way
E: "We.. are..-" V: "WE ARE VENOM!" E: "We.. are..-" V: "VENOM!!" E: "No.."
They share one braincell, holy fudge, I love symbrock fjdkslfjsdk
and Eddie just keeps trying! same tone, same level, and Venom is so excited
V: "Oh!"
(I also love these shots because we get a nice close up of how Venom's mouth moves when pronouncing words)
E: "Yeah.. We.." V: "We.." E + V: "are... Venom." E: "...We really need to work on that."
and they get there eventually lmao, the way they say it is so in sync, even the eye movements are the same, how they open wider, and THE VOICES hhhh the voices.,,.. Tom Hardy is such a good. voice actor? in this sense ig.. i am on the ground, pure joy with how Eddie and Venom's voices overlap here
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and Venom goes to town! lovely meal <3 getting a meal with the bf <3
I am LOOKING oh my goodness his mouth can open WIDE... normal feelings rn, yup, mhm!
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doggy :D dog friends :D also Eddie no shot you stole that guy's shoes lmao??? nice boots tho (as someone who wears cowboy boots often, i would love to see Eddie in a full outfit.. putting that in the drawing idea list...)
V: "DELICIOUS! You take me to all the finest places!"
see! dinner date! :3 I can just hear the smile on Venom, i love when he's happy
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and the world's most pathetic wet cat of a man (I say with the upmost affection) is back!
more proof that Eddie is never NOT sweating and that Tom Hardy's Eddie voice has the most confusing accent- i think he's saying
E: "Honey, I don't know."
but he could very well just be stuttering, or maybe he stopped midway and instead said "I need- I don't know." but i'm hoping they're at the point of pet names, go full comic, let Eddie call Venom "love" and "dear" and "my darling"
[Edit- thank you @.bridoesotherjunk for pointing out that he says "I need a Tylenol." i need better listening comprehension i guess??? lol?]
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i don't know 100% of the Venom lore, still have tons of comics to read, so i won't talk much about the potential storyline here but- 4 SYMBIOTES!! maybe maybe maybe the Life Foundation Symbiotes... these babies got some funky colors.. they already used the name Riot but these 4 could be Lasher, Phage, Scream and Agony if i pray hard enough, the colors don't match but i can dream!
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totally not emotional over this little bit of Venom that was left behind from that one after credits scene trying to bond with a host gently. yup yeah my heart isn't hurting at all!
LET MY BOY GO, HE DID NO WRONG!!!
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my favorite local cryptid, what a creature
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and he changed! finally! nice shirt tho, buttoned up only part way? the HAIR??? good stuff
fire seems to be a known weakness now, looking at the background, and i can't guess what they're looking up at, Eddie does speed up for it tho. I'm gonna say either a helicopter or something else they're gonna try and jump up to? Venom does go-
V: "OH SHIT"
during this scene so maybe it's one of those Symbiotes from before? Who knows, I could guess a hundred things but idk
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THE WATER SCENE!! FROM THAT ONE BEHIND THE SCENES PHOTO TOM HARDY POSTED!!!
Venom in the last bit and Eddie being just himself if the first portion of these clips show that these guys 100% know what they're doing and have some sort of device (shown in the right image) that is capable of doing some crazy damage to Venom! Which! Oh no!!! I enjoy fight scenes underwater tho (Looks at Godzilla), very hyped for this one, I really wanna see how Venom swims. Yeah that sounds a bit weird but like. no way he's swimming like a human, c'mon now
E: "We are living the dream, my friend V: "You mean it?!" E: "NO."
Can't get over Venom's delivery here, he sounds so genuinely, it made me laugh, especially to how exhausted Eddie sounds lmao
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LAS VEGAS??? y'all guessed right, they really are gonna get married in vegas,,
Eddie in a suit, HELLO??? my guy is looking snazzy! really tho, he looks so nice a suit, the BLACK AND WHITE suit? perfect. I saw people saying that they hope that Venom is the suit and just. me too..
MRS. CHEN RETURNS omg this cast are all so <333 she is GORGEOUS that dress is beautiful on her AND HER HAIR Mrs. Chen my beloved
Mrs. Chen sounds so happy to see Eddie, and Venom also very excitedly say hi, my heart is going to burst, it is overflowing, this part of the trailer makes me smile so much AND THEN THEY DANCE WITH EACH OTHER!!! I know it's called The Last Dance but I was not expecting a dance with Mrs. Chen??? I am more than ok with this tho, Venom and Mrs. Chen, dancing on the stairs, they look so happy, they're having such a good time i can't, my heart can't take this <3
AND LOOK HOW THEY HOLD HER HANDS.. they... they care about each other so much i'm going to cry in the theaters- no i'm gonna cry NOW.
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is that a xenophage i see??? that thing is HUGE HUH??? i fully understand Venom in this (side note, i ADORE how Venom goes "JESUS CHRIST" upon seeing this thing, the line delivery get's better every film, that was so genuine) this design is insane tho, i might spend some time doing a study on it
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Toxin is here! YIPPEE!!! love the voice, thought it was Venom for a second the first time i watch this but its pretty good
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I have no clue who the people are that are in this tower thing, I've seen a few theories but i ain't embarrassing myself by guessing wrong here lmao
(running out of image spaces sorry!)
in the clip of Venom walking into this lab (?) and then getting violently shot at, is it just me or does Venom seem small? I'm guessing the door is just really big but like. idk maybe i'm just mixing up my Venoms and thinking that he's not as big as I remember
really quick cut of what may be 2 more Symbiotes like the 4 from earlier? maybe they're the same and are just changing colors, maybe they're new, who knows! I love their colors tho, the one on the right (in the clip) looks like it's blue and pink and i think that's cute
Xenophage breaks into this lab, love that for her, she is still terrifying!
E: "We may not make it out of this alive, buddy."
haha what do you mean by that king?
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V: "Eddie... the time has come..."
HAHA PAUSE. uhm. he said the same thing last time at the end of Let There Be Carnage and Eddie didn't let him go but, istg, IF THEY DIE AT THE END OF THIS MOVIE. i know its the last of the trilogy BUT THEY DON'T NEED TO DIE, SONY, MARVEL, DON'T DO THIS TO ME. i am going cry violently at the writers... i don't think i will ever stop crying if they die at the end
they're in this busted up helicopter, already intriguing, but when it zooms in on Eddie's face, he's tearing up??? this movie is checking off every emotion, i need to remember to stay hydrated before i go see it, i will cry so much
I don't even think i'll be able to handle just one of them dying, the end of the first movie made me tear up the first time i saw it, and that was before i was as insane about them as i am now, i will be UNWELL in the theater
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And last but certainly not least. HORSE VENOM WOOOOOO
the design for this things is insane, i didn't think i'd ever wanna draw a horse in my life but like.. kinda changing my mind ngl (weird detail, Venom horse has hands and feet and not hooves!)
E: "Be honest with me, how fast do you think you can make that thing go, without killing it?" V: "..ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT!"
Venom sounds a bit muffled in this clip which makes it a bit more funny to me, i won't lie. Eddie is hanging on FOR HIS LIFE THOUGH, geez i know he said "how fast" but Eddie gets LAUNCHED OFF VENOM when they go over that cliff. fun reference to the first movie, how Venom grabs onto Eddie as he flies up, like on the motorcycle <3
this horse scene has to be earlier on because Eddie is in The Outfit and is also not wearing shoes??? i refuse to believe he'd put it back on, and in the helicopter-"it is time" clip, Eddie is wearing that white shirt, which looks like the undershirt to the suit (maybe) so the Las Vegas scene happens before them running from the explosion/fire.
oh right, the song that's playing? Space Oddity by David Bowie? yeah it's about an astronaut dying along in space.... which... is not very comforting...
god this trailer makes me so hyped, October cannot come faster i need this movie NOW. please.
man the trailer is kinda confusing, i'm already making guesses on where things happen and what the context could be, but literally anything could happen in this film. there are so many things that just don't make sense yet and it's hurting my brain I JUST WANNA KNOW! are those new Symbiotes or not? What even is the plot? Will Eddie and Venom profess their love to each other? Will Sleeper be real? How many times will this movie make me cry? Only time will tell
...and it's only the first trailer! head so full of thoughts, heart so full of emotions!
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Text
I've let this wolf into my home (I feed it even when it bites)
Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here
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pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)
length: 1.5k
genre: fluff ??
warnings: you don't know red robin and timmy are the same person but he sure knows you, he's also so so awkward but he can't help it
a/n: alright alright alright here we go <3
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The jingle of the coffee shop door opening startles you, your head snapping up from where you're sitting, slouched over in the corner. It's a 24-hour shop, yes, but who else would really be here at 3am? The barista behind the counter looks just as surprised, blinking rapidly and looking at the person who came in.
You, on the other hand, opt not to, sighing and looking back down at your table, instead. The coffee in your to-go cup is still hot, burning your fingers as you shift them over the label. It's bright, a cartoonish sort of thing that grins up at you like an old friend you should be happier to see. You've been getting this coffee for years. You're never quite as happy as you should be.
The chair opposite you makes a horrible sort of sound as it's pulled out and you look up to see who's sitting across from you. You purse your lips in annoyance while he just looks at you.
"All the other tables have just been cleaned. They're wet," he points out. You let your eyes flit around the cafe, the tabletops shining wetly in the dull glow of the lights, the disinfectant bottle still sitting abandoned on one of them.
"Lucky me," you bite back, taking a sip of your coffee. It's sweet - too sweet, but not enough to cover the bitterness of the burnt grounds. You always think that if you pile enough sugar into it, it'll mask what's wrong. You're never right.
The man sitting opposite you takes a sip of his own - he left it black, you notice. He grimaces slightly at the taste, but keeps drinking anyway. There's no effort there to pretend it's anything other than what it is - burnt, cheap coffee sold to him in a cafe full of ghosts, in a city that should be sleeping but never really does. It's interesting, you think, as you look out the window and into the dark street. You'd almost managed to convince yourself that you were really alone - that there was no one else in this world except you, until he walked in and broke the reverie of your 3am silence.
For what it's worth, Tim regretted it as soon as he'd walked in. He hadn't meant to stay, really - ending up in a part of Gotham he didn't often find himself in, in his civvies and in desperate need of a hot cup of coffee and a long sleep, he'd stumbled across the flickering, neon sign of a 24-hour coffee shop.
What good luck, he'd thought. Now, sitting across from you, there's a desperate little part of him that thinks maybe it wasn't just that - maybe it was intuition that drew him here. You don't know who he is, of course, all your previous meetings happening in the shadows of your home with his face hidden from you. Tim shifts in his seat, suddenly aware of how naked he feels, exposed to your wandering eyes. 
And you do let your eyes wander, narrowing them suspiciously as you take him in. Tim feels a pang of guilt that surprises him when he thinks that this is probably how you've always felt with him - like a lamb with a wolf at your door. As you lean back in your chair, swirling your coffee and letting your gaze trail away from him and towards the window, he feels his shoulders drop in relief. He's not the only wolf in your living room late at night, he realizes. You've got teeth of your own that he'd just never noticed.
You're good at this, Tim thinks with a start - you've got a foot propped up on the window sill next to you, your head resting in your hand as you watch the street outside idly. Or, at least, it's supposed to look like that. He thinks that if he were anyone normal, he would believe it. But Tim has spent enough time as prey to know when someone's pretending to let their guard down.
He looks away from you almost forcefully, staring down at his cup and running his tongue over his teeth as he thinks of the burnt taste of it. He wonders if you were smart enough to put sugar in yours - wise enough to bury the bitterness with something nicer. It's something he always thinks he should do. He can never quite make himself. 
"I'm sure those other tables are dry now." Your voice makes him flinch, a hard, forceful thing that cuts through the silence of the night that's blanketed the two of you. Tim looks around at the dull, streaky tabletops and shrugs. 
"I'm already comfortable here," he offers. You cock your head to the side and look at him, but make no move to fight him on it. He thinks it's probably stupid of him, inviting a lion into his home like this. He wonders if you feel the same way every time he slides in through your balcony door.
There's a silence that, once more, overtakes the two of you as he shifts in his seat. Tim wonders if he should drink faster, if he should pretend to be finished so that he can leave. It's funny, he thinks, how he finally felt like he'd stopped running away when he started running into you. It's funny that, now, he's itching for it, his hands gripping his cup in an attempt to still his heart - his need to escape.
You look back at him just in time to see him squeeze a little too hard, the cheap plastic lid popping off and hot coffee sloshing a bit over his hands. A mild, bemused sort of look crosses your face as you watch him curse and splutter as the coffee burns his hands and spills onto the table. Then, without a word, you stand up and begin to walk away.
Tim, in the meantime, is rubbing his hands against his jeans, his eyes squeezed shut in mortification as he wonders how he ruined it all so quickly. Not for the first time, he wishes he was in the mask - thinks maybe the only way to hold onto you is to make sure that's all you ever see. But then your cup scrapes across the table and he opens his eyes to see you sitting opposite him again, sipping idly and watching. There's a stack of napkins that he swore wasn't there before and - oh.
"Thanks," is all he can make himself say as he grabs them, cleaning up the mess he's made. As he goes to pop the lid back onto his cup, he looks at the dark liquid inside and grimaces, deciding that maybe it's not worth it.
"It's shit coffee," you say, and he slams his hand against the table, crushing the plastic lid in the process. Truly, he's not sure if he's ever acted this nervous before. You pay it no mind. He thinks maybe he could take off his mask, just this once, and reaches up to his face in time to remember that he's already exposed to you. "You're better off finding something else… or just going somewhere else." Tim smiles, then, a charming sort of thing that has you narrowing your eyes.
"I dunno,' he says. "There's something I like about right here." You glance down at your own cup, at the label that you've picked and peeled off until it's unrecognizable, the colours torn and cracked.
"There's nothing good about right here. And things like that don't change." Tim looks at you for a long moment after you speak, letting the words tumble around his head before he stands, taking his cup and squished lid and pile of wet napkins with him. 
"Well, I've never been big on change, anyway," is all he says as he walks away, dumping everything in the bin and letting the bell on the door jingle as he walks out. Looking back down to the table, you notice the card he's left behind - the Wayne Ent. logo flashing behind his name. Flipping it over, his number's been written in a hasty scrawl.
As you thumb a corner of the card, you wonder when he'd slipped it onto the table - when he'd written on it. Mostly, you wonder what kind of person he'd have to be to do it without you noticing. You trace the numbers with your finger and think that something, far in the back of your mind, is telling you that there's a familiarity about it all. 
But what's familiar about seeing someone in a place where you never should? What's normal about that man, appearing like a ghost in the night and disappearing just as fast? As you pull out your phone to add his number to your contacts, there's a part of you that thinks maybe you should run away - that maybe you're not the only thing stalking the streets of Gotham this late.
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ay0nha · 1 year ago
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This world needs sanji ANGST...i haven't seen anything like that that isn't immediatley fluff so plz plz plz do angst OR maybe enemies to lovers but reeealll enemies ther'es gotta be beeeffff
tension. jealousy. protectivness. what the hell. where is it.
thank u :3
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Pairing: opla!Sanji x f!reader
Word Count: 1.3K
Warnings: canon-typical things, smoking, cursing, the Baratie, mentions of annoying/handsy costumers, RUSHED ending (sorry), etc.
A/N: Hello anon! Thank you so much for the request. I started a little sm sm based of this request and a couple similar ones. It's just a start, so let me know if I should turn this into something more/longer...I have ideas...COMMENTS ENCOURAGED. Enjoy.
PART II
You always preferred sailing on quiet nights.
Fewer lights from the ship scared the stars into submission. It was the only time your shoulders settled and your breaths became leveled. The air’s humidity wrapped you in warmth and the patterned waves lulled your racing thoughts. 
Yet, the lights of the Baratie reminded you that those idyllic nights remained only in memory, few and far between. The chatter radiated an aura, which functioned as a reminder of the never ending responsibilities of hospitality. 
Your dwindling cigarette marked the time left of your break, but you savored every second. You slouched into your shoulder, head resting softly to the side to acknowledge the footsteps approaching you. 
“Sanji.” Even with your back to your newly found company, you knew who had found you. He always had. “If Zeff sent you…” You drew in a deep and finalizing breath, the crackle satisfying in contrast. “Turn around and fuck off.” 
The breath of his laughter exposed his delight at your demise. “Your funeral—
“—Our.” You corrected him. Finally offering a glance, you saw he’d replaced his apron for a tie. Always trouble, you thought.
“Nah, you’ll be alright…” He tutted with humor. “Regardless, who can I count on to spit on my grave?”
You hummed to hide a semblance of a smile. Sanji’s charm was worthless to you, never working in his favor. It had taken years of coaxing past vindication to even occupy the same space. So as always, you’d removed yourself to create a more familiar distance. 
“Funny.” You only ever entertained him with sarcasm.  Flicking your butt into the darkness, you began to walk away. “Just don’t get in the way.” 
The night was busy—every night was busy. You hadn’t minded the adrenaline or the late hours. It was what kept you going, kept you from realizing that slowing down would never be an option. 
But then the constantly spinning world stopped. Your wrist was caught in the hand of a guest, the very one whose crude remarks failed to cause a reaction. However, your plastered smile only encouraged him. You became a challenge he hadn’t realized would eventually retaliate. 
It caused a scene, glass to be broken, and scolding from Zeff that echoed throughout the kitchen. Your pent up venom led you to an ultimatum; cool off or leave. Now, your headache dulled in comparison to the nausea you felt walking back in. 
Hearing your name you turned to see Sanji’s face illuminated with his lighter. His eyes were fixed on his task, but you knew he was speaking directly to you. “You’re alright, though? Right?”
It was happening more frequently than you’d like to admit; your sarcastic insult caught in your throat and your breath pinned to the roof of your mouth. Your words were lost. Sanji was responsible for the confusion of feelings and it only furthered your resentment. 
Yet, your voice was never found and so you nodded with promise. 
Instead, your wrist throbbed and you were sure by the end of the service the bruising would surface. But you rolled it as if the action could wash away the pain. You straightened your posture, pulled a practiced smile, and held a soft air as you began again greeting guests table by table. 
The people dining waited their turn just as those rubbing elbows with them. From the decor, the crystal, story of the menu, even you were a part of the experience.  Performance was key and you were nothing but stellar at pretending to be someone else. 
“Good evening—” You greeted.  Your voice could have been mistaken for sultry. Some nights you struggled to recognize yourself. “—I’ve noticed you’re back and your wine is getting low.”
“Always attentive, you.” The Baratie regular reveled in the banter. It was formulaic at this point, but the atmosphere captivated you both. 
“I can’t help but play favorites.” You countered, granting a heavy pour of wine into his glass. Your dress cut low, ever dip intentional to distract from the mountain of Berries owed for the aged wine provided. 
His eyes took in your figure, falling into the trap. “Apparently, I’ve got competition.”
You wanted to feel good, as you normally did. The fabric complimented your physique and kissed your skin with such sensuality. The feeling of hungry eyes on you never grew old. The assurance was always refreshing. However, there was a weight tonight that wasn’t the fault of the fabric.  
“Pirates can never resist treasure.” You pushed past the crack in your demeanor. You smiled wider, but your eyes cast down at your wrist hoping it didn’t reveal too much too soon.  
The bark of laughter almost made you flinch. “Not the filthy pirate! Your friend there—” The man continued, complaining about nonsense while raising his already dwindling glass to Sanji. “100 Berries he’s spit in my food.”
That swirl in your chest had just settled, but it returned as your eyes met Sanji’s.  His glare wasn’t shy, burning through you. Judgment about your pairing of wine, most likely. Regardless, you noted the fluidity in his movements pulled him closer to you. 
The man laughed at the slight staring contest. You internally cursed at breaking first. 
“He’s harmless.” You muttered, pouring another serving of wine. Moving your body kept you distracted from the unspoken. 
“Harmless?” The man scoffed, inebriation heavy in his inflection.“The scum of a pirate walked—well, crawled really—out of here with nothing but a bloody promise of a slow death.” 
You remained light and playful as you finished the conversation, distracting your regular enough to slip away. You made your rounds just as Sanji had, but you were clever to dance around him, avoid him. 
It worked at first, but it only aggravated Sanji. He spoke loudly and boldly about the well-known service, slipping in insults and intentionally sabotaging everything you’d just smoothed out. It may not have been intentional. It rarely was if you thought about it, his disappointment reserved for Zeff. 
It was as though Sanji had tunnel vision. His upset became yours conscious or not, as every complaint and move he made contradicted yours. It made you trip and stumble. It began to make the night agonizingly slow as he became the barrier between you and the end of the service.  
You’d boiled over, pulling harshly on his arm until you both crammed into a blindspot of the rest of the restaurant. 
Sanji’s eyes blew wide, but his smirk only widened. Even in his state of mild shock, his mind wandered. “What are you—  
You straightened his tie harshly, a threat. “Fix your attitude.” 
“Mine?” He countered with disbelief. “If Zeff understood—
“I don’t care about Zeff. I don’t care about you.” You hissed, pushing a finger deep into his chest. Slowly your composure was unraveling, but you regained it quickly, speaking pointedly, “What I care about is this night being over.”
Sanji took the beat of silence to look between your eyes. You were frazzled, your collectedness hanging on by a thread. He could guess why, but you’d never admit he was correct. 
“Are you even listening?” You prompted again, ready to move back with utter impatience. 
However, Sanji touched the wrist that was within distance causing your body to freeze.  “You need ice.”
His hold was gentle, but he felt the heat come from the swelling. The pain was catching up to you. 
“Enough.” You spat, wobbling with your steps backward. “Enough of—” Tonight, you wanted to say. The kindness threw you off, made you feel seen in a way you wouldn’t accept. “Just—
“We’ll finish the night smoothly.” Sanji spoke evenly, decidedly for the both of you. “Then, I’ll find ice for you.” 
Your chin raised for your childness to surface. “I can take care of myself.” 
“I have no doubt.” Sanji felt his emotions settle on his face, the smirk was hard to call on, but the air had become too tense not to with such unfamiliar territory. “But yet, If I don’t help you, you’ll milk it for weeks and I’ll never hear the end of it.”
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magicalbats · 3 months ago
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Kinktober 2024 Day 21: Wriothesley x Reader
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Rating: R-18+
Word Count: 5459
Warnings: Afab!reader, prison, handcuffs, solitary confinement, abuse of power, desperation play, noncon, vaginal fingering, watersports, piss
A/N: Once again cutting it close but I made it!
Evidently kicking one of his guards in the face was enough to warrant a personal visit from the Duke of Meropide himself. Go figure. 
Cautiously straightening up from the grumpy slouch you’d fallen into against your cot, you look over to the narrow doorway at his sudden and unexpected entrance. You can’t help noticing that he appears to take up most of the doorframe with his tall, stocky build, the solitary confinement cell they’d shove you into so small that he seems to fill the already cramped space with his presence. And you don’t exactly like the way he shuts the door behind himself either. 
You’d only been a prisoner in the Fortress long enough to know its head warden was a rather elusive fellow who didn’t often make public appearances aside from the brief glimpses one could catch of him walking down the steel lined and reinforced corridors. Being on the receiving end of a one-on-one talk with him so early on in your sentence did not seem to bode well for the rest of your stay in this deep sea prison. 
“… what are you doing here?” You hedge, warily watching him lean back against the opposite wall directly across from you with his arms folded over his broad barrel chest. This was your first time seeing him up close like this, and you were admittedly rather impressed with how very large he was. 
Or maybe intimidated was the better word. 
Sighing faintly through his nose, Wriothesley settles into place and pins you with a level stare that doesn’t tell you much about his reason for being here, but it does seem to solidify that your initial thoughts on the matter were correct. This couldn’t be anything good. 
“You should be glad it’s only me.” He drawls in a surprisingly light, affable tone for what he was saying. “A few of the other guards wanted to handle our newest troublemaker themselves, but I know how they do things and I told them I’d take care of it. You’re a lucky little inmate if I do say so myself.”
You restlessly shift on top of your cot, shooting him a suspicious look. “Why would you do that?” 
He gives those broad shoulders of his a rather disinterested shrug. “You’re a woman. Simple as that. I generally try to be a bit more lenient with the fairer sex when I can, even when they foolishly decide to kick one of my guards in the face.”
You self consciously draw your bare feet in at that, tucking them under yourself where he wouldn’t be able to easily see how naked and bare they were after the penitentiary officers relieved you of your standard issue shoes for the transgression. As far as you saw it, your penance had already been paid. Both in the form of how very chilled your toes were and also the last few hours you’d spent in here with absolutely nothing to do. 
But the way he looks over at you with a vague air of stern authority reflecting in his chilly blue gaze seemed to suggest he was not in agreement with that estimation. 
“That doesn’t sound very on the up and up to me,” You murmur, listlessly flexing your wrists where they were restrained behind your back to test the give of the cuffs around them. Nope. Still just as unrelenting as the last time you’d checked. “Does the surface world know about this? Something tells me The Steambird would love nothing more than to run a scathing exposé about the questionable practices of not only the Fortress staff but its own Duke as well.” 
“I’m sure they would too. Luckily though they’re not going to get their hands on this information any time soon to run that article in the paper.” 
“You - -“
“I think that's enough banter for now.” He smoothly cuts across you, his mild tone leaving no room for argument on your part. “Let’s talk about you instead. Wanna’ tell me why you decided to attack one of my guards like that?” 
Primly sniffing, you turn your head to look elsewhere in the room but there’s not much else to focus your attention on other than the stand alone toilet in the corner and the wall. You settle on the wall. “I don’t see why I should explain myself to you.”
“You should do it because I asked. Nicely, I may add. I don’t have to be polite about it, just keep that in mind.” 
You can’t quite stop yourself from prickling slightly at the soft note of warning in his voice. What was with this guy? Either he was on a massive power trip down here where no one of a more civilized nature was there to keep an eye on him or he had an ego the size of Fontaine with the attitude to match. You really didn’t think you liked him very much. 
“Fine. I kicked him because he grabbed me even after I told him not to. I was defending myself. Simple as that.” 
Stirring at the bitter vindication in your voice, Wriothesley slowly unfolds his arms to let them hang loose down at his sides. It’s so slight and subtle, but something about the change in his body language does not make you feel very optimistic about how this was going to play out, and you anxiously shift on your cot again. 
“Interestingly enough, I heard a somewhat different story. You were refusing to cooperate and go where he was telling you to go. He only grabbed you, as you put it, to get your butt in gear. Isn’t that right?” 
“It was unnecessary.” You hiss back, hackles starting to rise. 
“Not in a prison it’s not. You’re expected to follow orders, little miss inmate. Without question. The guards are well within their rights to make you do something even if you don’t want to do it.” 
“Well, he didn’t need to touch me to accomplish that!” 
His brows taking a sedate trip up to his hairline, Wriothesley looks at you like he’s equal parts impressed and puzzled by your growing anger. Could he really not see what the problem was with having an unknown man suddenly putting his hands on you like that? If he'd get close enough you wouldn’t have minded giving him a good kick in the face too, and you think he must see that in your expression because he lets out a quick laugh.   
“Goodness, you’ve certainly got a short temper. I’m starting to see now how the situation escalated like it did. Maybe I should give you a bit more time to cool off and we’ll see if you’re feeling less mouthy when I come back.” 
You’re so shocked by the abrupt shift in the conversation that you just numbly watch him push off from the wall and make the short pivot towards the doorway, reaching out for the handle. It’s only when he’s got it halfway open and you realize he’s actually serious about leaving you in here even longer do you lurch forward with a jerk. 
“Wait!”
Wriothesley pauses and glances back at you. He doesn’t say anything though so you quickly rouse yourself, cobbling together a haphazard entreaty on the fly. 
“Please don’t go. I don’t like it in here. I’ll cooperate, I promise. Please?” 
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before lashing out like a brat then.” 
“I wasn’t being a brat! I just … I’ve never been in a prison before and I’m so scared. I’m not used to being around this many men. The guards were yelling at me and I panicked. I didn’t know what he was going to do to me. He could have really hurt me or — worse. I swear it was just self defense, I didn’t mean anything by it. Really.” 
Batting your lashes at him, you fix the Duke with your best sad look of helplessness and even conjure a filmy sheen of moisture into your eyes for effect. It was one of the trusty ace’s you kept up your sleeve and one that tended to work on even the most resolute, emotionally unavailable men, but Wriothesley just stares at you with a less than impressed frown tugging at his mouth now. Dammit. 
You hadn’t expected him to be completely immune to your ploys and feminine wiles, and you don’t exactly have a back up plan in mind as he shifts his weight back to thoughtfully settle inside the tiny room again. 
“Hmm. If I remember correctly … you’re the one who’s in for scamming people, aren’t you? Is that poor little put out face how you got all those gentlemen to sign over their life’s fortunes to you?” 
A genuine flush starts to crawl across your cheeks, more than slightly embarrassed at having your innocent act fail so miserably. “That has nothing to do with this. I’m telling you the truth.” 
“I bet.” Scoffing a quiet laugh, he once again brings his arms up to cross them, pinning you with a pointed look. “Cute trick though. I’m sure you’ll be quite disappointed to find it won’t work half as well as it did on the surface down here. Well, maybe with the male inmates it might get you somewhere I suppose. But it’s not going to do you any good with my guards and it’s certainly not going to have any effect on me. Perhaps you could give it a try on one of the female officers next?” 
You shoot him a biting look of warning at that, making Wriothesley chuckle another brief sound of amusement at your expense. 
“Ooh, how scary. It looks like someone is in need of a major attitude adjustment to me. But don’t worry, we’ll take care of that in due time.” Still quietly laughing, he begins to turn back towards the door. “Enjoy the rest of your timeout. I’ll see you again in a few hours.” 
Your eyes immediately pop open, widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, and you lurch forward again when he starts to push into motion. 
“Wait!” 
Pausing once more, Wriothesley turns just enough to peer over his shoulder at you. “What is it now?” 
“You can’t … what do you mean ‘hours’? You can’t leave me in here that long!” 
“Oh? Is that so.” 
You sputter at that, realizing in a distant sort of way that he was actually, really truly serious about this. Not only did he plan to leave you locked inside this solitary confinement cell for who knows how long but he was also perfectly comfortable with the notion. Not even an ounce of guilt or shame! 
“This is — it’s a human rights violation, isn’t it?” You desperately stammer, foolishly thinking you might be able to get through to him if you just reasoned with him enough. “No food, no water. Nothing but a paper thin blanket in here to keep me warm. And I thought you said you like to be more lenient with female inmates. Or was that just a trick to make me trust you?” 
Studying you for a long, drawn out moment, Wriothesley finally breathes out a slow exhale and rocks back to stand inside the small room with you yet again, fully this time so he can swing the door shut with a casual flick of his hand. 
“That only applies to the female inmates who don’t test my patience and make everybody’s job harder than it needs to be. I gave you a chance to get in my good graces and behave but you refused. Tell me why you think that should have earned you any sympathy from me.” 
“It’s not about sympathy, you ass.” You growl at him, furiously working your arms against the unbudging handcuffs behind your back. “It’s about common decency! You can’t treat people like this just because you’re on some tyrannical head trip. But if you’re so dead set on doing this then at least take these damn things off. I can’t even use the toilet like this!” 
“Sure you can. I bet you haven’t even tried yet.” 
“Ugh! You are infuriating! How am I supposed to pull my pants down or wipe like this? And — and I don’t even see any tissue paper in here! What am I supposed to use, my hand?” 
He makes a considering face at that, as if it was a reasonable enough idea and you were simply too unreasonable to see that, which just pisses you off even more. Perhaps you would have been a little less on edge and a little less focused on this particular problem if you didn’t have to pee so bad. You’d already been stuck in here for a tortuously long stretch of hours since the incident first happened, no way could you last a couple more. 
“Please.” You sob, letting some of your desperation bleed into your voice now. “You’ve already taken everything else from me. My freedom, my life, even my shoes! At least let me keep my dignity.” 
“I’m telling you,” He intones, the abrupt drop in his voice down to a strict whip crack startling you somewhat. “You do not need your hands to go. You’re being a bit dramatic about this, don’t you think? Or is it just that you want me to help you with it?” 
Your spine snaps ramrod stiff, a curling tendril of real unease snaking through your cramping gut now. Surely he couldn’t be … “You wouldn’t.” 
“Oh, but I certainly would. It seems to me you’re forgetting a rather important detail, miss. I’m in charge here, not you. I can do whatever I please whenever I so choose. Would you like to try me?” 
You reel back in abject shock, feeling your shoulders quake with the impotent rage coursing through your system. There was even a hint of fear underneath that red hot current too, if you were being honest. It just didn’t make sense to you how he could speak to you like this, treat you like this and threaten you like this, all in good conscience with nary a sign of guilt to show for it. And this was all somehow legally sanctioned by the powers that be? 
Clearly seeing the raging confusion and uncertainty on your face, Wriothesley takes a casual step towards you and you suck in a sharp little gasp. Quickly drawing your legs up onto the cot so you can kick at the thin mattress and scoot as far back from him as you can. There’s nowhere you can feasibly go with your shoulders against the wall though, and you realize just how limited your options really are in such a cramped space with no shortage of sinking dread. 
Undeterred by your frightened reaction, he comes to stand over you in only two short strides, further reiterating how very trapped and cornered you were in here. You try very hard to keep a brave face but you can’t quite manage to conceal it when he was looming there like that. He was just so big and obviously powerful, if the size of his arms was anything to go by, so of course you’d be scared! 
The helplessness of having your arms secured behind your back doesn’t help either, and all you can do is cower when he sedately reaches out a hand towards you. A multitude of possibilities fly through your head all at once, each worse than the last as you imagine what sort of humiliating trial he was going to put you through next. You probably should have just kept your big mouth shut. 
To your shuddering surprise though, he merely wraps his massive hand around the back of your neck in an unexpectedly gentle yet firm grip, nudging you from the wall just enough to fit his knuckles between. Wildly trembling there on the cot, you hesitantly tip your eyes up to look at him. You didn’t understand what he was doing. This was not what you’d imagined when he’d said he would help you, thinking he was going to drag you over to the toilet and take your pants down himself, or perhaps even make you urinate on the floor like an animal. That is not what seems to be happening though, and you have no idea what to make of it when he lifts his other hand to reach for your lap, tracking the motion with a great deal of fast mounting horror. 
He doesn’t even give you a word of warning before he does it, just unceremoniously shoving his broad palm between your legs to cup you through your pants, and you jolt so hard you nearly come right up off the cot. He keeps you in place with his hold on your neck though, leaving you with such a limited range of movement that all you can do is squirm in place, hissing at him like an incensed cat. 
“Wh - what are you doing? You can’t … you can’t touch me like this, you bastard!” 
“Well, that’s quite a mouth you’ve got, isn’t it? Perhaps you need to have it washed out with soap when I come back.” 
Whimpering softly when that casually delivered threat hits its mark, you uselessly kick your legs up in an attempt to fight him off but of course it doesn’t work. Even when you press your bare foot into the bend of his elbow and push he doesn’t even budge. The Duke just keeps holding your cunt in the palm of his hand like it was meant to fit there and you frantically clench the muscles in your lower body, the warmth of his hand suddenly making it feel like you need to go even more than before. This could not be happening. 
“Leave me alone!” You warble, starting to pant from the effort of trying to wriggle free while holding back the urge to empty your bladder at the same time. “This is — a gross abuse of power, do you hear me? You’re sick! W - what do you think you’re doing to me!”  
“I think I’m teaching you a lesson that you should have learned a long time ago.” He tells you, perfectly calm and collected despite all your restless fidgeting. “Given your attitude and the long list of crimes you committed, I’d wager you think yourself pretty much untouchable huh? And it may have even been true at one point but unfortunately for you that’s no longer the case.” 
Pinching your neck just tight enough to make you squeak a hurt little sound, Wriorhesley all but scruffs you like you were nothing more than a misbehaved kitten to make you be still. The sharp pinprick of real tears rushes into your eyes as you roughly seethe, painfully stiff and halting in his hold. Immobilized like this, you can only follow the motion of his other hand when he lifts it from your cunt to demandingly tug the waistband of your pants lower. 
“I’m afraid you’re playing by my rules now. And before you start in on it again, no, I will not be facing any recourse for it regardless of how much you throw a fit over it. This is my fortress, little miss inmate. You’d do well to remember that from now on.”
He reaches into your pants then, slipping rough, callous worn fingers straight down through the top of them, and you plaintively mewl at the gruff way he worms it lower to dip into the space between your legs. Even trying to squeeze your thighs shut isn’t enough to dissuade him and Wriothesley merely bullies them apart, stretching your bottoms out as he angles his hand downward to find your slit. 
The first indelicate swipe of a blunt fingertip over the fleshy crease makes you jolt so hard your head slams back into the wall with a dull thud. He doesn’t seem to care though, slowly working his digit back and forth for a drawn out moment to encourage the fleshy lips to part for him. And gradually, they do. Not of your own volition or even with any conscious thought to the matter, but the insistent nudge against your labia still has its intended effect. 
As soon as he can dip that finger inside you he does, spearing through fleshy creases and folds to locate your clit. He presses down on it firmly enough to make your thighs twitch around his wrist but he doesn’t hurt you, which manages to surprise you slightly. For a man who looked like he’d be more of a meathead than anything else, someone who was much too focused on stroking his own ego to concern himself with the pleasure of a woman, he’s unexpectedly adept at rubbing you just right. Not too soft yet not too hard, all while not missing his intended target completely. It was astounding in a way. 
You hate it though. Even when your body grudgingly responds to his steady ministrations and you feel your pussy start to warm up to the masculine presence between your legs, you still mentally curse him for everything he was worth. The one and only good thing about this is the more he keeps caressing over that responsive pleasure button the less urgent your need to go seems to be. Maybe this was good after all. If your cunt was too busy getting fingered you wouldn’t have enough time to think about how badly you needed to pee. 
“There. That’s a little better now, isn’t it?” He murmurs when you stiffly relax into it, rewarding you for your good behavior by bringing a second finger to your soft clit so he can caress you over a wider surface area now. “If you would have just listened to the instructions you were given we wouldn’t have to be doing this right now, would we? Maybe next time you’ll stop and think before you act out.” 
Groaning a soft sound of protest under your breath, you screw your eyes shut and try to turn your head away from him. He was far too close for your liking, his warm breath ghosting softly against your hair where he was bent close over you. But Wriothesley’s hold on your neck is as good as iron, and all you can seem to do is reluctantly shudder in place for him, earning a brief click of his tongue when you halfheartedly try to twist away from his hand. 
“Don’t get yourself all worked up again. And you were starting to look so obedient too. Just relax. I’ve got you, you little brat.” 
You noise a threadbare sound of disagreement into the suddenly static charged air, your legs flexing in vain against the sheets underneath you. It’s clear you were losing the fight though — and then he switches up the motion of his hand, going from carefully deliberate nudging at your clit to flattening those long, broad fingers over the apex of your mound so he can firmly drag them back and forth. The very sharp surge of sensitive arousal that shoots through you in response probably would have bowled you over on the spot if he hadn’t been keeping you held upright and in place, shuddering intensely with a faltering mewl. 
It makes your head positively spin from how potent it is as your hips reluctantly judder under the exquisite pressure. You were feeling more and more delirious by the moment, especially when you were aware of your pussy slowly wettening for him. He could feel it too, and he murmurs quiet words of praise at you for being so pliant for him. 
That alone is almost enough to lull you into a throbbing daze wherein you don’t even think to protest when Wriothesley finally directs his damp fingers even lower to press into your entrance. It’s only when he pushes in, smoothly sliding a thick digit into your cunt with enough soft, gooey friction that you woundedly lurch in your spot, and you abruptly snap out of it. 
Mild alarm registers in your mind at the unexpected penetration but it quickly ratchets up to full blown, squirming panic when you realize a moment later how insidiously cruel this really is. The heavy presence of him inside you puts additional strain on your bladder's muscle control, the resulting weak flex pulsing through your entire cunt to make your inner sleeve sensitively contract around his finger. All at once that insistent pressure to let go until you were mercifully empty roars back to life full force and you renew your struggle with a frantic little whimper. 
Wriothesley just shushes you though, sedately withdrawing his hand from your pussy just so he can then push in with two fingers. The mind numbing stretch to your body makes you weakly thrash and clench your teeth in an attempt to stop yourself from involuntarily pissing everywhere. But he seems to know what he’s doing and he’s hellbent on doing it, curling those broad digits inside you to push on up on your upper wall and jab towards where your heavy bladder rests inside you. 
“Oh - oohh — waaaah, stop it! Please! I - I don’t want to …” 
Readjusting his grip on your neck, Wriothesley pointedly nudges your face in his general direction to make you look at him even when your head drunkenly lolls in his grasp. “What’s not getting through that pretty little head of yours, huh? It doesn’t matter what you want. Your needs and desires are of no concern to me. As long as you’re here under my care you’ll do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Understand now?” 
Blubbering rather pitifully while he continues to almost idly fuck his fingers into your aching bladder, you just stare up at him in wide eyed disbelief. Not only were you incredibly taken aback by his misuse of power, his total lack of empathy for you, but the fact that he seemed to be actively trying to make you piss yourself strikes you as particularly alarming as well. Why would he want to do this to you? It didn’t even make any sense. 
But you stubbornly clench down even when the tears start to run over and track hot streaks down your face, fighting tooth and nail to keep your continence under control. It’s a losing battle when his fingers were so thick and heavy, churning your guts with every sharp little jab against your interior. And as the seconds tick by you can’t quite decide which is worse — the way his rough ministrations make your pussy noisily suck at his fingers, slurping loudly each time he plunges them inside, or if it’s the way your desperate attempt at tightening up just makes you squeeze down on him even harder. 
It’s a dizzying, confusing rush of sensation slamming into you all at once, head spinning so fast it almost comes as something of a relief when you feel the pressure in you start to tip. Wriothesley practically forces it out of you, demanding your body respond to him with such insidious precision that you simply can’t help but cum. 
And you do, seething viciously through your teeth while you tersely judder and shake into an unexpected yet not unwelcome orgasm. It leaves you reeling in his hold, woundedly lurching while you gasp and squeal, hips bucking uncontrollably as he continues to fuck his fingers into you. Deliberately milking your release for everything it’s worth and dragging it out until you sensitively angle your pelvis away from him, moaning a dire sound of frazzled distress. 
To your reeling, punchdrunk surprise, the Duke allows his fingers to carefully slide out of you and leave your tender cunt altogether, and you wheeze a grateful sigh at the reprieve. You’re not entirely sure how you’d managed not to vacate everything in your bladder throughout that process but you feel vaguely proud of yourself in the aftermath, in a far off, dreamy sort of way. 
You even manage to straighten up enough to shoot him a relatively sharp look of victory that you’re certain is not in any way diminished by the fact you were flushed hot and still trying to catch your breath. 
He just looks down at you though, those icy crystalline blue eyes taking some of the wind out of your sails for how unmoved they were. 
And when Wriothesley slides his hand out of your pants you foolishly think this bizarre trial is over, that you’d bested him at his own game and now he had no choice but to give up. 
Your triumph over him is regretfully short lived though, and a haggard, hissing gasp catches in your throat when he presses his palm down on your lower stomach. Jerking at the pressure, you immediately try to twist out of his grip even when it yanks on your neck but he holds you fast. A little more firmly he pushes down, not enough to crush or hurt you, yet it’s more than sufficient to make the tension in your bladder start to give out. 
You couldn’t stopper it. Not after being attacked from the inside and now the outside. All you can do is helplessly squeal and squeeze your thighs together as tight as you can but it’s no use. You feel it coming, eyes starting to roll back in your head when the first tiny trickle slips out of you. And once that small allowance is made, involuntary though it may be, it’s like you lose complete control all at once. 
Another dribble of piss quickly follows and then a full on stream, forced right out of you by the uncomfortable pressure on your guts. Wailing a stricken sound of humiliated defeat, you bonelessly slouch back into the wall and let your legs fall open in a wide spread while it just keeps coming out of you completely against your will. The warm, wet sensation rapidly spreads underneath you, soaking into the cot and even right through your pants. You’ve never felt quite so deeply embarrassed as you do watching that stain spread across the material as your hips twitch at the onset of great relief that comes with it, knowing Wriothesley was watching you piss yourself the same way. 
He doesn’t let up on your stomach until he seems to be certain there’s nothing left some few moments later, slowly retracting his hands from you and then straightening up to leave you sitting in your own soiled clothes. Weak and broken, you just lie there without even making an attempt to close your legs and hide the evidence from him. Not only was it much too late for that but there was also too much of a mess for you to conceivably hide any of it. 
Your pants were soaked. 
The middle of the mattress was as good as waterlogged. 
There was no way you’d ever be able to forget this mortifying ordeal for as long as you might live, and something told you Wriothesley was going to personally see to that himself. 
“Well,” He intones, casually straightening out his tie where it had gone askew. “I’d say that takes care of that. I trust you’re feeling better now, little miss inmate?” 
Listlessly rousing at that, you send him a halfhearted and tearful glare. “Screw you …” 
“Ah, so you’re still inclined to be mouthy with me I see. No matter. I’m sure you’ll be singing a much different tune the next time I check in.” He starts to pull away from the cot as if to leave but seems to think of something else, turning back to you again with a stilted exhale. “Seriously though, I hope you’ll take this opportunity to reflect on your behavior so we don’t have to have another demonstration like this one. I don’t like throwing my weight around unless I absolutely have to. You’re going to get yourself hurt down here if you start running your mouth with someone who’s a little less nice than me. Just some food for thought.” 
He does leave then, calmly walking over to the door which he tugs open and steps through, shutting it with a click behind him. The sound of a rattling set of keys turning in the lock rings loud in the tight, cramped little space as you’re left alone in a quickly cooling puddle of your own piss with only your deeply embarrassed feelings for company now. 
If this was how the Duke did things in his fortress then perhaps it would be wise to behave him from now on. At the very least you didn’t want to get on his bad side again. 
Crossposted: here
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elsweetheart · 2 years ago
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Pls write about clingy!reader wanting ellie's attention when she's playing video games and just like climbing into her lap and all that cute stuff.. youre writng is good <3 xoxo
this is so me….. giggles ….. (and thank u <3)
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console yourself — clingy!reader
🎀 just fluff with a tiny bit of suggestiveness if you squint? reader bein clingy n ellie being cute :)
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• you missed ellie. you pouted into the bed sheets as you lay faced down, leg pulled up beside you, spreading yourself out (rather dramatically, you might add.) on the bed. your favourite pyjama shorts were jostled at your hips as you sigh with your face buried into ellie’s pillow. she was supposed to be right here besides you, holding you. but instead, she was far, far away. 
• “motherfucker.” ellie cursed quietly as her on screen character died and her game restarted. okay, maybe she wasn’t that far away — but she was far enough. what wasn’t helping, was that she looked so cozy on that day. she was bundled in a hoodie and sweatpant material shorts that were grey and fell just above her knee. half of her short hair was pulled back into its usual half-do messy bun and she was slouched down in her seat, legs spread and her controller resting at her stomach where she aggressively thumbed the joystick, brow creased in concentration.
• “ellieeeeuhhhhh.” you whined, and one might think judging by the devastation in your voice that you were severely injured or frightened- however ellie knew you all too well, and even without lending you any of her concentration she knew that you were simply suffering from a severe case of clingy girlfriend syndrome.
• “one minute, babe.” she responded, a few seconds delayed as her eyes zeroed in on her screen target. you huffed, unsatisfied by the response and rolled over to watch her. deciding to take matters into your own actions you stood up, walking over to her with determination (and yet you ended up giggling.) and climbing onto her leg, seating yourself on her lap.
• she barely reacts, simply weaving her head past and over yours when you were getting situated so that she could still see the screen. if she was going to ignore you for her game, she might aswell do it with you on her lap. “hey.” she greets casually and you giggle some more at how focused she is on the game. at your laugh, the corners of her own mouth subconsciously turn up without realising as she continues mashing the joystick.
• you try your best to not disturb her too much, snuggling into her with your arms around her neck, burying your face into her as she leans back with you on her comfortably. she sighs in frustration at the game as it restarts again. “why can’t i fucking get past this part?” she mutters under her breath and you turn your cheek, your warm breath heating the skin of her neck.
• “maybe it’s a sign from the universe that you should pay attention to your girlfriend.” you held back a smile at your cheeky response to her rhetorical question and she briefly took her eyes off the screen to side eye you, making you snigger.
• she played a few more rounds before you noticed the repetitive music from the old game halted and both of her hands were on your waist. “alright, i’m all yours.” she smiled, briefly taking her hands away to stretch her arms, leaning back as she did so and glancing at the clock - guiltily wondering how much time she’d spent accidentally neglecting you.
• you sat back on her lap and smiled at her, crinkling your nose when she poked it. “i missed you.” you complained quietly, busying yourself with playing with her hoodie drawstring.
• “can you reeeeally miss someone if they’re in the same room?” she smirked, pushing your hair back with her hand, letting it slide over your head til she was cupping the back of your neck. you looked up at her with a serious expression, scrunching your nose in fake anger. “yes.” you answered and she chuckled, nodding as if to say ‘alright, alright.’
• “oh, right. i guess i missed you too then.” she smiled coyly, pulling you in by the neck and bringing your mouth to hers. you melted into the kiss, feeling relieved and satisfied by the affection you were craving so badly. “wish i could throw your console out the window sometimes.” you admit against her mouth and she pulled away to gasp, an offended hand on her chest.
• “you take that back, missy.” she poked a finger into your chest and you giggled, chasing her mouth for another kiss.
• “i doooo! i’m sorry!” you had fallen into a giggle fit as the two of you continued to kiss through the disruption before finally pulling away for a breather.
• “i think you’d like it if you tried it.” after gazing at you for a moment she spoke with a fond smile, fiddling with the ends of your pyjama shorts that were bunched up at your thigh crease.
• “i’m not playing that girlfriend-thieving game. don’t try and corrupt me.” you closed your eyes stubbornly as if you could block her out and she chuckled, leaning back a little more in her chair and nudging you suggestively with her own hips, bouncing you once on her lap.
• “little late for that, don’t you think?” her smirk only got more sly and you opened your eyes just to widen them, feeling your face heat up. “how about this,” she took your hands in hers, running her thumb over your knuckles absentmindedly.
• “i’m listening.” you raised an eyebrow.
• “i’ll teach you how to play. you can stay right here on my lap, because i know you’re clingy like that.” she tilted her head slightly in a loving way as she stared at you on her lap. you pretended to think before clambering up to swivel round in her lap.
• “fine... i am not clingy.” you denied with a proud grin.
• “and the sky isn’t blue.” she teased, pretending to say it under her breath making you gasp and lightly swat at her before getting comfortable in her lap, her hands resting over yours on the controller. maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
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marlynnofmany · 7 months ago
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Faceoff
Ever get cognitive whiplash going from one group of aliens to another? You’d think I’d be used to the variety since I’ve spent so much time bopping around the galaxy, but some things just catch you by surprise.
It was a simple difference. I’d been talking with my smallest crewmates while we walked into the space station, trying not to loom over anybody or step on a tentacle in close quarters. The hallway between our corner of the docks and the central concourse was a narrow one. Then Coals realized he’d left something on the ship, and Paint volunteered to go back with him to help find it, and Mimi took a side corridor off to the public bathrooms, with a comment about checking how the local mechanics handled sanitization fields.
It’s possible that he even meant that. As long as he didn’t steal any parts for our ship, I was more than happy to let the octopus alien’s bathroom time be his own business.
I was thinking that, still slouching a bit after waving goodbye to Paint, when I turned a corner and was suddenly the smallest person around.
Hulking shapes in scales and space suits filled my vision, clustered near the entrance with no way to see past, much less wriggle by. I hadn’t heard the voices over the chatter of the crowd that had to be out there somewhere, and the ambient music. (Something with drums. Much better than the leg-singing screeches from the last station we visited. At any rate, it was loud.)
I stopped in my tracks and straightened up, glad I hadn’t slammed into the broad back in front of me. The spacesuited individual wasn’t even looking, and neither were the other two next to him. (Her? No idea.) I couldn’t see the faces from where I was standing, just the burly, hunched shoulders, and the short reptilian tail. Smashers, that was the name for these guys. I’d never been on the receiving end of their disapproval, and I wasn’t about to start.
The raised voices got louder. I peeked past a giant elbow to see that some scaly members of this huddle seemed to be facing off with the Smashers.
Uh oh. The scaly guys were Armorlites. While most races that I’d met were likely to take the threat of a good smashing and back away, Armorlites never backed away from anything, even (especially) if it was a good idea. Not that I would speak ill of any intelligent race’s common sense, mind you. It’s just that after a few run-ins with these frat house dinosaurs, I had something of an opinion about their skills in diplomacy.
Picture a T-rex with good arms and bad self-preservation sense, baring his teeth at someone roughly his own height, who’s wearing a space suit and speaking in the deepest of voices that makes the very air vibrate. I’d honestly thought it was part of the music, an instrument I didn’t recognize.
But no. It was threats.
“You think you can just claim a table here without paying your respects?”
The Armorlite in front waggled his claws. “We can claim anything we want. You should be respecting me!”
“You’ve got to earn respect, blunt-fang.”
Those were definitely fighting words, and I was concerned. I hopped in place, trying to peek around the meat slab blockade to see if the station had any kind of security forces nearby. No luck. And with the music thumping away, I couldn’t tell what reactions the people on the other side were having to this confrontation.
Just as I turned to rush back down the corridor, the group broke out into sudden movement, all of them lunging and dodging. I watched over my shoulder for a couple of steps, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Were the Smashers aiming to head-butt the Armorlites with their face shields? Those things weren’t rated for combat. Unless they were. Or —
Unless they were dancing instead.
I stopped dead as the laughter registered in my brain. The two groups were having an honest-to-goodness dance-off next to the food court, and that had been the plan from the start.
“You’ve gotten slow, with footwork like that! I thought this would be a challenge!”
“I’ll show you a challenge! Stand back with your short tail, and let a real expert show you how it’s done!”
“Oh, a real expert? Did you bring one with you?”
The trash talk and deep-voiced chuckles blended with the music while the crowd of giants stomped and jumped and spun. They moved away from the entrance a bit so they’d have room to properly cut a rug, and I caught glimpses of many staring faces at a safe distance. Not a single security officer was among them. Several recording devices were, though.
I edged back in their direction, cautious of flying elbows, and sidled along close to the wall. A cluster of Frillians moved aside to let me escape, busy as they were with filming the dance battle and also laughing about it. They were on the tall side for their own species, but downright spindly compared to the dancers.
Once past, I took a deep breath. I’d reached the food court. Nice to see that it was populated by a range of species, all of whom were going about their day as if this kind of nonsense happened all the time here.
I stood tall and set out to find some human food. There was bound to be someplace that carried Earth cuisine — likely mixed together in bizarre combinations that no Earthling would have done on purpose, but little surprises are a way of life out here.
~~~
These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.
Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.
The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).
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goldengleams · 1 year ago
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cuddle day | trevor zegras
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In which Trevor wants to have a cuddle day.
Some Trevor Zegras fluff to get your week started!
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“Ugh, Trevor let go of me!”
“Why don’t you love me, Y/N?”
“Because you’re a pain in my ass, Z!”
You rolled your eyes at your overdramatic boyfriend, Trevor. He was seated next to you on one of the kitchen barstools, practically in your lap, watching you as you tried to do some work on your laptop. He knew you needed to get work done, but he was having a clingy day where he demanded your cuddles and slouched around in his comfy clothes.
“Z, I gotta do some work, babe,” you said softly. You didn’t get to see this side of Trevor much since he was so busy during the season, so you tried to spend as much time with him as possible.
“Yeah but you’re always working,” Trevor whined.
“Well, that is how I make money, so,” you laughed. “I have to send three more emails and then we can cuddle, okay?”
Trevor just sighed loudly instead of answering you. He trudged off to his bedroom and you could hear him grumbling under his breath about how you should just move into his apartment. Knowing that was a conversation for another day, you went back to typing on your computer.
Jamie made his way into the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge, having passed Trevor on his way.
“Your boyfriend looks like he needs a cuddle, Y/N,” Jamie teased. He was well aware of Trevor’s moods after living with him for months.
“No, Jamie. Your boyfriend is driving me nuts,” you countered. Jamie just let out a laugh before heading out to the gym.
Typing as fast as you could, you quickly finished up your work and closed your laptop with a relieved sigh. Now, you could finally go cuddle with Trevor.
You grabbed a few snacks from the cupboard and two waters for you and Trevor before heading into his bedroom. He was laying across the bed, scrolling through tik tok when you walked in.
“Oh my god, my girlfriend isn’t just an email machine,” Trevor mused, pushing himself up on his elbows. He had ditched his beanie and his hair was flowing effortlessly. He had his glasses on which made him look even more domestic, and you had to restrain yourself from jumping right at him.
“I wish I didn’t have to be an ‘email machine’, but it’s all for my internship,” you said, setting down all of the snacks and your drinks. “It’ll all be worth it, I think.”
“Yes it will, you’re like, the smartest person I know, babe,” Trevor said. He was the best at reassuring you, all of his compliments and advice rolling off his tongue so easily and honestly.
“Alright, now come cuddle me before I implode.” Trevor rolled onto his back and threw his arms open, waiting for you to climb in next to him.
You obliged, settling in next to him with your head on his chest. He wiggled closer to you, if that was even possible since you were practically on top of each other. His hair started to tickle your face, making you laugh softly.
“Missed you, Y/N,” Trevor sighed. You knew Trevor wanted to spend more time with you, but his schedule in the middle of the season wouldn’t allow it. Any quality time you could get together was spent glued to each other in some activity, whether it be going out or just hanging inside.
“Missed you, too, Z,” you said.
Trevor furrowed his eyebrows, tugging you closer to him. “Well, you should just move in and then you’re always here. Hey, even better, you should just get a job with the Ducks and then you can travel with us!”
You both burst into laughter. “You want me to be a Ducks groupie, Z?”
“I mean you could be a groupie for me and we could–”
“Don’t even finish that sentence, Trevor!”
You climbed up onto his lap as he welcomed you easily. You tucked his hair behind his ear and kissed him sweetly. “You’re crazy,” you mused, as he left a kiss down your jawline.
“Yeah, I know,” Trevor said. “But I’m lucky I get to call you mine.”
For the rest of the afternoon, you stayed right in Trevor’s bed, cuddling and watching your comfort movies. Jamie found you a few hours later, both fast asleep, and smiled to himself at his two close friends.
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Hope you enjoy!!
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