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alphabetboyluvr · 11 months

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throttle - jjk | five

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - jk and yoongi showdown (by showdown i mean they just glare at each other a bit), THE BUSAN CHRONICLES BEGIN!!! anyone who has read throttle know how important busan is for these babies he he, depictions of sex that aren't smut (i'd argue?), hair pulling, she's on top, existential crisis thoughts during it all, unprotected sex, creampie, HELLO KIM TAEHYUNG, he's a sleaze, ANGST, cc watches jk wank himself off <3, a lil mutual masturbation moment, cute kisses <33, cums on her tummy <3, character insight! backstory! ugh! i love the busan chapters! i'll upload the rest of the busan chapters now too

word count - 18.5k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

Jungkook has a face straight from a nineties rom-com. Boyish charm, eyes that linger; teeth that nibble on thin lips, and a smile that breaks like sun through a thunderous sky.

You're convinced that if he actually was a movie star, you'd watch every single film he was in - twice, at the very minimum. Maybe one would even become your comfort movie, for the days when real people felt like too much to handle; solace through the silver screen.

His nose slopes and points so delicately at its tip, that you always find yourself staring; marvelling. Wondering how an angle so simple could have you at such a loss for words. Eyes are wide and dark, they're like a vat of melted down dark chocolate, slowly hypnotising you with every stir of the rich delicacy.

It's when he smiles, though, that you really find yourself lost in everything he is. It's radiant, the way those plunging, round eyes of his crease at the sides, a deep line forming beneath them. His brows raise, and the dewy skin on his cheeks begins to tighten as they apple, and then his teeth - pristine, you think, ignoring any imperfection - are on show. You're home.

Home in his laugh, in his happiness, in the way that he always seems to be like this around you. Home in how he always finds an excuse to be touching you in some capacity, home in the sanctuary of unspoken words, and home in the hopes that maybe one day, he'll be brave enough to say them.

Hope is a funny thing, though. So much to gain and yet so much to lose - but if you never really had it, can it be considered a loss at all?

You're musing about this when Yoongi comes in through the side door, palms slick with motor oil, a few streaks staining his face and his shirt from where he's been a little bit careless. He cocks a brow, and throws you a cautious, coy smile.

"What are you doing here?" He angles his body away from you, almost as if he suspects you're about to throw something at him. His tone is slow, reserved, a little bit accusatory, if you do say so.

"My job?" You question - but you know exactly why he's asking such a thing.

You're always getting Jieun to cover you these days. He thinks you've barely worked enough shifts to cover the rent this month - and he's right.

He just doesn't realise that you have money sitting in the bank from stocks and bonds that had been purchased in your name when you were just a few months old. Rich people shit. Shit you wished you didn't understand, but were thankful for nonetheless. You may not be on good terms with your family, but you're not ignorant of the fortune you've had as a result of their choices. Having the ability to run from them is a privilege in itself.

"You still remember how to do it?" He teases. "Don't forget to offer the customers a receipt, and make sure you always pull up the right pump tab. Don't wanna be charging a soccer mom for some asshole's jeep tank."

"I remember, Yoongs," you say with a roll of your eyes and a narrowly hidden smile. He likes this smile of yours; the one you don't want to give but can't help but deliver regardless. "Thanks for the crash course, though." You thread your fingers together and stretch them in front of you. The way they click together has Yoongi looking at you like you've just shagged his dad. "Sure you don't wanna work my shifts all the time?"

"I'm sure," he nods. "Not a chance in hell I'm covering for you again."

And then there's that look on your face; the one he can never resist indulging in.

"Don't you dare," he says.

But you've always been up for a challenge.

"Yoooongs," you sing, voice high and sweet, like a hit of coke up his nose and down to the back of his throat, washed clean with Ribena. He knows what's coming, and he knows he won't like it - but he does like the way you bat your lashes for him. "Watcha doing this weekend?"

There's a resistance, but the invisible string that tugs on his lips is stronger than he cares to admit. He smiles, and you know he's where he's always been; wrapped right around your little finger.

"Why?" he deadpans, not hiding his infatuation well. "You asking me out?"

He laughs as if it's not what he wants more than almost anything in the world; as if he doesn't know it's the last thing in the world you'll be asking.

You laugh too, but it's to cover the guilt that weighs down on you. You thought he'd be over it by now.

"Not exactly."

"You should really start dating someone who respects your work schedule," Yoongi jokes, but it's kinda totally not a joke. He doesn't say it, but he'd always respect your work schedule. Would never ask you to make compromises for him; would never ask you to prioritise him.

But Jungkook doesn't do that, either. It's your choice.

"I'm not dating anyone," you say. It's childish because even though you aren't technically dating Jungkook, you're not exactly not dating him either. The 'what are we' talk hasn't happened yet. You're not ready for it. He won't ever be ready for it. You don't know this though, so you just think you're at the same stage, which is a whole lot more comforting. Think that things will progress naturally. Fall into place when they need to.

"But you're about to ask me to cover for you so you can go on a date, no?"

"...No?"

I mean, you're not.

You're not going on a date with Jungkook. You're going to his childhood town. So you're telling the truth - no dates involved.

But fuck, he'd held your hand as you stood beneath his shower together, telling you all about how he was going to take you to his favourite places, and you'd giggled when he told you that he'd force you to go swimming in the ocean with him, even if it was below zero.

You'd told him that it was fine, that you love winter beaches, and then you'd challenged him to a race from sand to shoreline. He'd agreed, of course, and then your laughter had dissolved into the pitter-patter of his shower, the warm water running over your body like a poor imitation of his hands, which were preoccupied elsewhere.

So no, you're not going on a date.

You're not dating Jungkook, full stop.

But you are existing together. Most nights these days. He works a night shift here and there, and sometimes you just need a little alone time - but more often than not, you'll head to his after work and wait until he finishes whatever he's working on. Your toothbrush has moved from the bathroom cabinet to the pot by the sink.

Your presence is undeniable, even if you are in denial.

Feels like you're lying to everyone, including yourself.

Especially yourself, actually.

Yoongi's back stiffens, his soft gaze that once was on you hardening as he glances out towards the forecourt. He nods curtly to his line of vision, and you know. He doesn't have to say anything because you can read Yoongi like a book.

His eyes look green in this light.

Beneath his breath, he mutters, "Speak of the devil."

And what a devil he is; dressed down in a pair of dark jeans with a black raincoat pulled over his head. You're down so bad that you're enamoured with the fact he's dressed for the weather, as if he's not a fully grown man very much capable of making such choices.

You think it's cute, and imagine him looking out the window as he was getting ready, heading back to his wardrobe for the anorak upon seeing the rain.

By the time you turn back around to tell Yoongi to fuck off, he's gone; snuck out the back to finish whatever work he was doing. He's not interested in watching you play happy families with some fucker he knows isn't worth your time. Jungkook could have been a brain surgeon, a charity worker, a fucking saint, and Yoongi still wouldn't have cared.

And by 'wouldn't have cared', he'd have been internally seething and ignoring the very existence of him, regardless.

"Just can't stay away, can you?" You say as you turn on your heel to walk away from Jungkook as soon as he enters the store. You're getting around to the cashiers' side of the till, creating distance.

Not because you want it, but because you think it might make him want you more.

It does.

"The cashier at Kang's ain't half as pretty," he flirts, and you swear that smile of his might send you to an early grave.

"Checking out other women, are we?"

"I'm here, aren't I? Not at Kang's?"

You want to argue with him just for sake of the flirt, but that anorak is really doing a number on you. All you wanna do is squish his cheeks and tell him how cute he looks in polyurethane-coated nylon.

"Touche," you grin, but it's muffled as he rests as palm on the kiosk and uses his other hand to pull you closer and steal a kiss. It's a risky move. Something he shouldn't really be doing. Not when there are three windows behind him.

He's on display like a puppy in the pet shop windows downtown. Anyone could drive by. Pull in. Anyone. Daegu ain't as big as it likes to pretend to be.

"So, I'm lying," he says, voice sweet and low. "I actually do have an ulterior motive."

"Mhmph," you breathe through your nose, rolling your eyes. "You're a boy, Jungkook. I know you didn't drop by just to ask how my day was."

"Okay, one - ouch. And two - I always want to know how your day is."

For a chronic liar, he's refreshingly honest when he wants to be.

"But?" You encourage, not wanting to skip the flirting, but anxious of the outcome for whatever it is he's here for.

He pokes at the bagged sweets like he so often does, his tattooed fingers gently prodding and pushing them about with no real purpose. He appears distracted, but he's anything but. You know this now; know it's just a Kookism.

"Buuuut," he takes his time, dragging out the word because he knows it will drive you insane. "I was thinking why don't we just head over to..." he pauses. Suddenly feels uncomfortable declaring the plans you have so publically. What if he hadn't noticed someone behind a shelving unit? What if your coworker is listening in? He carries on as if he didn't skip it, but waffles so much you don't have a chance to interject. "Straight after work? We go straight from here? You finish round about now, don't you? I know we were gonna wait till the morning, but I got itchy feet, baby. Wanna get outta this place."

You nod as his questions pour out like a broken faucet. You don't have to worry about your shifts, 'cause Jieun's already swapped with you. You'd struck a deal to work her typical early shift that day in return for her covering you over the rest of the weekend.

Truthfully, you weren't going to ask Yoongi to cover for you earlier - you were just going to ask if he'd watch the shop for 5 minutes until Jieun arrived so that you could escape a little earlier than you were meant to. He'd only just started his shift, opting for a later rota than usual. Weird, but not weird enough for you to question it too hard.

"Lemme just get changed," you smile, having come straight to work from Jungkook's apartment that morning.

The way you're always in each other's company, it's as if he'll suffocate without you around - which admittedly does feel like it's true, but it's more so that he's scared of what could happen if he's not there watching over you. Scared that someone will interfere with what he's doing. Scared the rug will get pulled from beneath your feet before he's gotten a chance to scatter pillows on the ground beneath you.

Running late, you'd skipped dropping by your place that morning. You weren't feeling all that fresh, despite the shower you'd had at his that morning, thanks to the second-day clothes you'd arrived in, so had opted for the uniform spares in the back rooms. The sizings were all off, and you're pretty sure you felt filthier in them than your own clothes, but it was rare for you to ever feel all that hot in your work uniform.

Jungkook is left alone in the shop as you head to the backrooms. He figures your colleague will be out soon enough to man the tills, so goes about looking a little busy. Eyes up the stale pastries that are definitely past their best in the cabinet next to the till. Reads the magazine covers, and wonders why the fuck people care so much about celebrities.

It's as he's flicking through a copy of Drivers Weekly that he hears a cough. "We prefer it if people don't read the magazines in the shop."

His eyes land in the direction of the voice, towards a man who is shorter than stature than Jungkook, but somehow feels taller. Broader. Stronger. A better man. Competition.

"You must be Yoongi, right?" Jungkook nods, voice a little hoarse. He's on edge. Doesn't like the way Yoongi is looking at him as if he can see straight into his soul - not that he'd find much there.

That's the trouble that comes with making a deal with the devil; he'll eat you from the inside out. It won't be long before Jungkook implodes, bones caving in on themselves. He's got a little while left to go until then, though. Maybe some major organs left to harvest. A little bit of liver for all the soju he's gonna need to drink to get over this, and the tiny sliver of his heart that belongs to someone else.

To you.

"Heard a lot about you," he continues.

Yoongi laughs. It isn't kind. "Funny. I've heard fuck all about you."

He stays stoic as he watches Jungkook purse his lips; shoulders rising ever so slightly and dipping again as he nods, letting out a scornful laugh. "Right."

Despite all he's done, all the stupid little mistakes he's made, Jungkook isn't dumb. He knows how to read people - and currently, Yoongi is a pair of burning red capital letters: F. U.

A petty remark rests on the tip of his tongue, one that could spark and ignite the dry wood of the bridge between the two men. There's no water beneath it yet. Jungkook would incinerate the entire structure.

Best not to. Not yet, at least.

"Hey babe," he calls instead, loud enough for you to hear, and direct enough to crawl beneath Yoongi's skin. You muffle a response to let him know you're listening. "I'm just gonna wait in the car, alright?"

"Okay!"

"Don't keep me waiting too long," he flirts, but he's looking at Yoongi. He's smirking. Eyes narrow. Winning. "We've got a hotel room to check into."

It's childish and he knows it, but he wants Yoongi to know exactly who's gonna be making you cum that evening.

You're cringing, knowing that Yoongi will be mentally imploding, but you also think that Jungkook is none the wiser. "Go wait in the car!"

"There's a place just off Gwangalli," Yoongi says, his attempt at looking unbothered fairly convincing - but not to Jungkook. He's convinced that everyone wants to fuck you just as much as he does, so would have always figured Yoongi was jealous. "A shoreline hotel. She really loves it. Maybe you should book a room there next time."

The insinuation is clear; Yoongi knows where you like to stay. For all Jungkook knows, maybe he's even stayed there with you.

But Busan is Jungkook's old stomping ground, and funnily enough, he does actually listen to you. He knows all about the hotel you love, and the fact you've never actually stayed there. Just dreamt of it; bridge views over the harbour, sleek marble coating the walls.

He also knows that it's overpriced and that there's a far better hotel just a few blocks up that doesn't get half as much attention. It's the place he's booked - 'cause fuck taking you home to meet the family - for the weekend.

Apart from the final night.

He's got you the hotel you love for the final night.

He'll say goodbye to Busan with you, just as you feel like you're saying hello.

There's an acute awareness that things between the pair of you won't always end happily, so he's trying to make the memories sweet. Giving you happy endings to daydream about when you forget that you hate him, as you inevitably, eventually will.

He's so caught up thinking about it that he forgets to reply to Yoongi. His train of thought is interrupted by Yoongi once more, his voice low this time. He's trying to avoid being heard by you.

"Just... be careful with her."

Silence in the wake of Yoongi's request deafens them both. His words are weighted. Jungkook knows Yoongi is telling him to take care of you, but part of him can't help but wonder if it's a warning. Maybe he should be careful of you, instead.

He's not the only one with secrets. Naive of him to assume he is.

"Thought you were waiting in the car?" You smile as you finally emerge.

Jungkook's eyes are on you immediately, and suddenly you're not the only one with a chime in your stomach. There's one in his too, and it's humming to the beat of his heart.

He'd already figured that you'd stolen one of his shirts before he woke, thanks to the fact your dress was hooked over the back of his desk chair that morning. It's grey and faded, a billion sizes too big, resting just below your midthighs. You're wearing tights again, because of course you are.

He knows, within about a second, that he isn't gonna be able to make it to Busan without being inside of you at least once. There's gotta be a side lane close by that you won't get caught in. Shit. Maybe he should just take you in the back rooms right now. Yoongi'd get over it, he's sure.

Cheeks a little hot, Jungkook is cringing at himself as he feels the blood rush to his cock. He can't be getting a semi in a GS-fuckin'-25. Wouldn't be the first time, but-

"Kook?"

"Sorry," he says with a smile, and pretends as if he was listening all along. "Was just talking with - sorry, what was it again? Yooji?-"

"Yoongi," you correct sweetly, eyes so smitten that Yoongi thinks stabbing himself in the eye with a motor oil dipstick would be less painful.

"Yeah, that. Didn't really how much we have in common. Both love our cars, real penchant for good soju..." Both wanna rail you so hard you forget your own name. "Interesting guy."

You look over to Yoongi, and it's clear as anything that he doesn't agree with a single word of what Jungkook is saying -but you think Jungkook is trying, and that only makes those eyes of yours even drunker in lo-

"You not have a hotel to get to?" Yoongi grimaces.

"Pollution's bad today, baby," Jungkook mumbles softly into your hair, ignoring Yoongi. It's said out of concern for you, but also for himself.

It's easier for him if your face is a little obscured; easier to deny that you're the one he's holding onto for dear life as he leads you out of the shop. You think nothing of it, pulling up the mask that had been resting below your chin before the cold wind gets a chance to hit your face.

He's not wrong - the midday skies are clouded, a thick smog obscuring the mountain peaks that you love to look at so much. You love the winter sun, but it has you wishing for rain. It always clears the skies a little more; brightens the world up.

Daegu is dreamy, in the obscure, nightmarish kind of way that made you eat cheese before bed as a child. The best kind of dreams were always the ones that made you feel something - and as Jungkook starts up the pony, you're terrified.

It's not a big deal. Going to Busan is casual. But being invited into a world that is exclusively his? Well, that's not casual at all.

It's weighted and deliberate, and intentional. He wants you there. Wants you in every aspect of his life, and yet you haven't even had the 'what are we' conversation yet.

You wait until Jieun arrives, just a minute later, before you make your departure. She says goodbye with a knowing look, and Yoongi is already out back working on breaking up a written-off car that came in for parts earlier that morning.

Jungkook's hand is on your back as he guides you out, the mask he had insisted on you wearing for air pollution purposes obscuring your face. It doesn't stop his eyes from darting all over the place, making sure he hasn't missed anyone lurking. He knows he's getting sloppy; that he could trip up at any point, and fall at the feet of the men who had sent him into your shop all those weeks ago.

But as the pair of you pull onto the highway, your dainty hand resting at the top of his thigh, nothing but the open road ahead of you and the smell of your perfume wrapping around his senses, he doesn't care.

He'd do it all again, he thinks.

In fact, he thinks he'd kiss you sooner, just to get a few more in. Your days are numbered. He knows you're not gonna last long enough to see the cherries blossom, and maybe it's better that way.

When he got into this mess, he was in search of a spring day to break; the seasons to change, and life to renew. The deeper he gets, the more futile he realises that dream was. You're the only thing he wants to see bloom, these days.

Such a shame he has to cut you from your roots, and watch you wilt instead.

────────────

Jungkook doesn't know what 'home' feels like anymore, and hasn't done for quite some time, now. He doesn't know what it feels like to be completely content, nor at ease, within his own body.

Sometimes, though, when he's behind the wheel, the balls of his feet pressed to the pedals, he thinks it might feel close.

When the scent of gasoline seeps through the vents, and a toxic combination of burnt rubber and wiper fluid clouds the atmosphere behind his tinted windows, it seems like he could have a grasp on what it means to be 'home'. Or to have one, at least.

Maybe that's why he clings to the idea of you so much, and the way that your hair smells like gasoline.

It's a trick of the mind; a subtle deception that perhaps you could feel like 'home', too.

He thinks of this as his car rolls onto a street he hasn't visited in what must be years, by this point.

He's silent, glancing over to where you nap peacefully in his passenger's seat. Light scatters through the branches of trees which are yet to bloom, refracting as it hits the pale stone in your necklace. The underside of your chin is painted in rays of rainbow light. Your throat, too. Impossible, he thinks, for someone to be so ethereal without even so much as trying. Thinks that you're magic.

But magic isn't real. He knows that deep down, beneath the scent of your hair and the taste of your rainbow stained skin, you're not real, either.

You're an illusion; a projection, just like that refracted light.

Still, he smiles as you begin to stir, neck aching from the uncomfortable position you've had it in for the last thirty minutes.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he teases, while you squeak and stretch your body out at far as you can. Palms on the dash, your head feels all stuffy and horrible, the nap only serving to make you feel even more sleepy. You bring the back of your hand to cover your mouth as you yawn, brows raised, eyes closed.

"We here?" you mumble, turning to face the road, only to find the view is obscured by cargo lorries ferrying things to the harbour.

The shipping container next to you is a deep navy blue, its history etched onto the corrugated steel with white chalk markers. It rusts at the joints, paint flaking off and scattering into the atmosphere. It's remarkable, you think, how even things built to sustain the most brutal of weathers can still have areas of weakness.

"Just about," he nods, turning the radio up a little louder now that you're awake. His phone is plugged into the aux for once, but it sounds like it's still your playlist going. It's not. He's been crafting his own, taking note of the songs you like, and adding his own into the mix. Subtle integration of you into his life, perhaps. "About 10 minutes away from the hotel."

You hum a response as you sit up a little straighter, a frown on your face. You hadn't meant to sleep through the journey, but late nights with him and early starts at the gas station have really been doing a number on you.

Jungkooks thinks he's benefitted from your sleepiness, as it made you so bloody endearing that he found himself wanting to let you sleep, instead of pulling into a vacant side-road to sort out the awkward hard-on he's had since the moment he saw you in GS25 earlier on that day.

There had been a brief moment, when the pair of you had stopped by your place to pick up your travel bag, that he'd considered making a move - but you were excited to get going, and so was he.

Why waste time in Daegu? He wanted out of there. Wanted to be elsewhere, anywhere. Wanted to hold your hand in public, with your mask off and your hood down, just to watch the way other men would double-take you.

Maybe because it's unknown - being with you, without fear of getting caught - or maybe it's because his intentions with you have changed in recent weeks. Whatever reason it is doesn't matter, though. The outcome will still be the same.

You watch as the cargo trucks begin to roll into gear, and then you're chasing the sun, heading towards your destination. Jungkook hasn't told you anything about where you're staying, just that he thinks you'll like it. Part of you hopes it will be that hotel you love along the shoreline, and as he takes a right onto the next road over, edging closer and closer to the shore, you think you might be in luck.

These hopes are short-lived, though, when you see a sign with the branding you know so well - even if you've only ever seen it online - and watch it disappear in the rearview mirror.

Funnily enough, there's no disappointment that follows this realisation. You couldn't care less where you stay. All you seem to care about is who you'll be staying with.

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips when his indicators begin to tick, and his hand, flat against the wheel, begins to pull clockwise. The place he's turning the car in to is nice. Too nice. There's a surface level car park, for starters, not one tucked beneath the first floor of a drive-in motel, like you'd half been expecting.

The exterior walls are finished with European style red bricks; purpose-built and not in keeping with the dated architecture of its surroundings. There's an attitude to the building; attention-seeking without trying, refined yet unassuming. It reminds Jungkook of you, in a way. Reminds him of how no matter what you do, his focus always seems to be on you.

"Had this place on my bucket list," he says. "Opened up around the time I left town. Always said I'd stay here if I came back with someone else."

His last comment is unnecessary. He doesn't need to tell you he'd never brought anyone home to Busan, and yet he does, because it somehow feels important.

A hotel resident swings through the front door as you're getting out of the car, and you can't help but notice that the chime is eerily similar to the one of the GS25 door. Identical, almost, to the one in your stomach.

"Pretty," you muse, adoringly looking at the ivy that trails up and down the side of the building.

"Prettier in summer," he says, taking your luggage from your hands and tilting his head forward as if to say 'ladies first'. "There's another vine running through it that blooms like nothing I've ever seen before. It's too cold for it to flower, yet, I think."

You smile as you listen to him talk, enamoured that a man so brash and bold can be so delicate and gentle when he wants to be. Mindless chatter fills the space between you as you enter the lobby, and wait for the concierge to check Jungkook's booking on the system, just to find out there's been a free upgrade.

"Wish she hadn't announced that," Jungkook mumbles in your ear as you head towards the elevator. "Totally would have pretended I'd splurged out on the upgrade instead."

You laugh, and tell him that he's stupid - and that you also saw the room rates by the front desk, so in your eyes, even the standard rooms are a splurge.

He shrugs, and insists he got it cheaper online thanks to some bullshit discount he can't be bothered to lie too deeply about. He wanted to experience this hotel, and he wanted to experience it with you. He'd have paid the price, whatever.

Chances are he'll be making the money back in a weeks time, thanks to you, anyways.

Thanks to you. Because of you. In spite of you. Whatever. Same difference.

Same disgusting guilt that coats his skin like oil and drips from his body. Dare you strike a match, he's sure he'll set fire. Ablaze with the glory of whatever the fuck he feels for you; the flames of his failures smoking him to suffocation. Failure to act quick enough, failure to control himself, failure to do wrong by someone that feels so right.

He shakes the thoughts from his head, his guilt steeped stomach a constant aide-mémoire.

"613," he reminds you of the room number as you reach the sixth floor.

It's not quite the top floor, but it's far enough up that your view of the harbour will take your breath away, you're sure.

He laughs when you squeal in response, thankful for the fact you don't try and downplay your excitement like he knows you would have done when he first started seeing you. He assumes you're comfortable now. Assumes you trust him. Assumes you feel safe. Assume, assume, assume. You're rubbing off on him, it seems.

He's got a rucksack on his back, and your own bag hooked is over his shoulder, yet he still uses his free hand to hold onto your waist as he walks behind you. He's so desperate to keep you close; fearful of what could happen if you ever were to part. His fingers grip a little tighter when you take a stride further than he anticipates, and he doesn't shuffle back when you finally reach the door. He rests his chin on your head instead, and watches the light on the door handle flash green when the room key taps against it.

The pair of you walk into the room in the same position, your back pressed to his chest, his strides wide behind you, so that he can walk in time with you. It's clumsy, and awkward, and hard to synchronise, but both of you are laughing so much that you're almost distracted from the view that floods in through the wall-length windows. Almost.

You stop in your tracks when you see it, gasping at the sight. Jungkook looks up from your hair, his arms tight around you, to see what you've noticed - and then he notices it, too.

"Holy shit," you say, unable to articulate anything else.

The ocean in front of you spans for miles; endless upon the horizon, with nothing but Gwangalli bridge standing in its way. Boats dapple the vast expanse, tiny and delicate, obscured by the incredible distance between you.

It's blue. Blue, blue, blue; the skies, the sea, the way you feel sorrow in your chest from never having seen anything so beautiful before.

Jungkook is smug as he whispers into your hair, "Boy did good?"

You've not even looked at the crisp white sheets, yet, freshly laundered on a queen size bed, nor the decadent hotel decor that you're sure will be identical in every single room. The other rooms don't matter to you, though; just 613, and the boy with bleach blonde hair who had driven you to Busan in his bright red pony.

The stuff of fairytales, some might argue.

"Boy did good," you whisper back, turning your head to steal a kiss. He smiles into your lips, your body his to move as he pleases, as he begins to walk you to the bed.

A soft puff of air blows around your body as it lands on the outrageously fluffed duvet. He crawls onto the bed with you, one hand on your cheek, the other laced with yours above your head.

"View like this and all you wanna do is waste it?" You grin into his lips, voice as sweet as his touch.

He's quiet as he presses his lips to your throat, slow as he trails his tongue down it.

"Not a waste,' he says, as his teeth graze ever so gently. The firmness of his crotch is devastatingly erotic as it presses against you. "And fuck the view. Rather look at you."

You go to argue against him, but he's adamant you're far prettier. Tells you if it means that much to you, though, he'll be willing to take you from behind so that you can look at the view - which is how you end up wrapped in a duvet, hair a mess and mascara a little smudged half an hour later.

You're sat together on the floor, backs against the side of the bed, looking out at the view as his arm drapes around your shoulders. His lips are nestled into your hair, because it seems to be his happy place, but neither of you are talking. Just existing, like you so often like to do together.

There's an unspoken understanding that this is an unusual occurrence for the both of you.

He doesn't do romance. He doesn't really do anything that would ever indicate a shag is more than just a shag. He'll compliment, and he'll charm, but he'll never say any words of actual worth. Not like he does with you. He doesn't cuddle, doesn't snuggle, doesn't kiss outside of the realm of a fuck. Again, not like he does with you.

When you turn to face him, catching the countenance in his eyes as he looks at you - chin, nose, eyes, lips, eyes again - you know that any kiss that could follow would be fatal.

It would seal the deal that neither of you have been brave enough to make.

There's hesitation. His breaths are heavy, prick still a little plump beneath the sheets that covers his modesty, but he's not hard. Not horny. It's not what's leading his thoughts, nor his actions.

And then, suddenly, but somehow also so perfectly predictable, he kisses you.

It isn't simple. It isn't just because he can - but it's also not for any ulterior motive, either. It's soft, his lips not as hard against yours as they usually are. They squeeze your bottom lip, then release. And then he does it again. No welcome intrusion of his tongue. No hands roaming to your chest. No smile as he does it.

But why would he be smiling when he's terrified?

He just kisses, and kisses, and kisses. He makes no further moves, not even when you let the sheets slip, nor when you hook your leg over his lap and move across to straddle his thighs. You're so incredibly wet, his touches minimal, yet so deeply intimate, that he can feel you leaking all over him. His cock is flushed, stiff, and stood to attention, resting against the base of his abs.

Still, he doesn't really touch you. His wrists are resting on the top of your thighs, but his palms aren't lying flat. They're open, not balled into fists, and you can't quite figure him out. You feel shy and insecure, because why isn't he touching you? Doesn't he want you?

But then you go to pull away from his lips, and he whines and shakes his head.

Come back, baby, he wants to say, but it gets trapped in his throat, and all he can get out is a little grunt.

He knows he's being pathetic. Knows that he must look like a fucking weirdo.

Part of you wants to laugh; wants to ask where the man who ate his own cum out of your pussy and spat it into your mouth is.

Most of you, though, is consumed by the sheer terror that's encompassing him. You feel it too. All of this is so unfamiliar, and scary, and alarming and yet so... safe.

His palms finally lay flat, prowling to your ass, where he squeezes as if to say hello. Eventually, he pulls you further up his lap. You're raised above him, the heat of your pussy so warm, and welcoming, and inviting, that he simply can't hold back any longer.

No words are spoken, you simply nod.

You aren't kissing anymore. Just looking at one another. He doesn't drop his gaze when he lines himself up with your entrance.

It's only when you sink down onto him that his eyes close, as his head leans against the corner of the mattress. The expanse of his throat is pristine, not a hickey in sight, and you like it this way. It - you - somehow still feels like a secret. One shared, but one that is safe. Just for you. Just for him. For one another.

Jungkook lasts longer inside of you than he thinks he will. The silence is only broken by hushed whines and dulcet groans. Your hands rest on his shoulders, and stay there the entire time. It's almost like you're both petrified that changing position will change the way that you're feeling. You look at one another like you're holding hands across a tightrope, dependent on one another to stay alive.

If he falls, so do you.

But it's not the falling he's afraid of. Not really. He's been enjoying the freefall for the past few weeks, now. It's the inevitable crash and burn that scares him.

There's something about the angle, the way he's got you deep and slow, that has the tightrope tying itself in pretty little bows around the bell that lives rent-free in your stomach.

Jungkook sees the way that your brows begin to furrow. He grunts as your lips rest ajar, restless gasps shying away, hiding in your throat. His hips keep at the pace he's set. He knows what's happening, and even though he's spent the last couple of weeks desperately trying to not let happen, he knows he's gotta let you come undone.

He wants you to. Needs you to. Needs to know that it's not just him that can't control himself.

It's euphoric when it happens. His arms wrap around your back, pulling your chest to his, and only then does he realise how hard your nipples are; how much your entire body has begged him for this. He squeezes you so tightly that your back clicks, but he doesn't really worry because you're shaking on him, muscles out of control as the orgasm he was fucking into you finally cascades over your body.

You're thankful for the way he's holding you close, your pussy so tight that Jungkook finds himself whining into your neck; and then he's kissing it, pressing his teeth to your skin, holding them there as his muffled moans vibrate against you.

'Shouldn't-' he thinks, even his thoughts stuttering and getting all confused. 'Shouldn't do this. Gonna end in tears. Gonna end - shit. Gonna fucking end. Shit. So good. So fucking good.'

Pussy so good he swears he'll fuck it forever, and then his thoughts catch up with him, and he's spiralling all over again.

'Fucking disaster. Heaven in human form. Temptress devil dressed as an angel. Shut the fuck up, Jungkook. The fucking audacity,' he begins to scold himself. 'Prick. She never fucking lied -' And then his head is battling against itself. '-but she did though - she didn't - did-'

"Shut the fuck up."

He doesn't even realise he's said it until your laboured breaths and spent body seem to falter, but you fail to muster up anything more than a "Hmm?"

You're sure you must have heard him wrong.

"Nothing. Not you," he husks in your neck, though he can't really get his words out 'cause he's seconds away from spilling into you. "You sound so good, baby. So good. Gonna make me cum so fucking hard." He knows he shouldn't be encouraging it, but he can't stop. "Keep moaning for me, baby. Let me know how good I feel."

You hum a laugh, so sweet and saccharine that Jungkook thinks you must be laced in some kind of addictive substance. It's the only way to explain how he feels. He's an addict, hooked on you.

The moans that roll off your tongue aren't fake, but you let yourself be a little louder for him.

"Like that," you tell him. You're already done, spent, but you want him to feel just as good as you do, even if his size has you feeling a little sore by now. You encourage him, knowing that it'll become painful if he doesn't finish soon.

It almost feels like there's something holding him back, though. You think he's just edging himself. You don't notice the way the lines in his forehead crease together in such a way that they almost spell out words. You'd have studied them, if you had noticed. Would have convinced yourself that you could read 'trust,' in the lines, and not 'traitor,' instead.

You move your hips against his, ass bouncing against the top of his thighs in a way that you haven't done for the entire session. He's been working so hard for you that it's about time for you to return the favour, it seems.

The way his neck stretches back, eyes shut, lips pouted and perfect as he fails to formulate anything other than "fuck, baby," lets you know it's appreciated.

'I'm going to fucking hell,' he tells himself. 'When I die, which seems like a sooner rather than later kinda thing, I'm going straight down to the pits. Pussy like heaven, so fucking good that it's a sin. Angel. Angel, angel, angel, baby. Gotta have you. Can't let anyone else have you. Fuck, no. Shouldn't. Shouldn't have you. Fuck it. Need you. Oh, god. Like that. Like that.'

He pulls on your hair so that you're sat up straight as he rams into you, your fucked out face the only thing he wants to see when he finally succumbs to your body. He nods at you, as if he's trying to say something that you don't quite understand. Letting you know he's close? Letting you know that he feels the same way, too? It's unclear, but you're in no position to ask - so you just nod back, and let the rapture happen.

"Shit," he all but whimpers, and then he's in purgatory; heaven and hell meeting at some kind of divine intervention as he spills all that he is into a vessel of freedom that he isn't sure he can afford anymore. "Jesus Christ," he chokes, the mess of his load leaking from you and down his shaft.

The lines in his forehead have smoothed, now, brows open, eyes half-closed. He laughs, once, twice, unable to stop himself. He forgets it all in the wake of his orgasm; his turmoil, your troubles, the turbulent path he knows he's about to go down.

All he can think about is you, him, the present, the physical. The right now. The way that you're in Busan, and how the dreary streets of Daegu can't hurt you.

Rather foolish of him to think that little deaths would have you falling in love, when he's the one whose head feels like cotton candy, heart beating like a butterfly bursting from its cocoon.

The screen of his phone is alight on the dresser, again. You had noticed it earlier, but neglected to say anything; mainly because you didn't want to lose the moment, but also because you feared that whoever was on the end of the line could have you losing him, too.

The freedom of your arrangement, the unspoken boundaries, affords you great comforts, but also leaves you with lingering doubts. You aren't naive. You know that men his age - men in general - aren't ones to be trusted with your heart. Platonic, romantic, familial. Not a single man has ever deserved to hold it in their hands, and any that you have given the chance to have dropped it at the first hurdle. It's a death sentence, you think, giving Jungkook your heart.

So you simply won't.

But in the comedown of a fuck that really didn't feel much like a fuck, more like a meeting of minds, bodies, consciousnesses - fuck it - hearts, you find yourself thinking that maybe it would be nice to try.

You're still in his lap when he stands, his cock inside of you, even if a little soft, now. He's gentle, and slow, taking you with him, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. There's comfort in his silence as he leads you to the bathroom; familiarity in his feverish need to shower.

His phone continues to ring out on the dresser, silent and sinister, the glow of his screen the only source of light other than the moon that pours in through the windows. He clocks it as he turns to close the door, while you let your body become acquainted with the pressure of the shower on your skin.

And then, he presses the door firmly shut. The world can wait just a little longer, even if only for a night.

Tonight, he's yours, even if you never asked him to be.

He's yours, because he knows that come next weekend, you really will never ask him to be.

But you're just as much his.

He'll wrap you up in a fluffy white towel, and lay down with you in white sheets, that are creased only by the illustrations of your entanglement. He'll give you a tissue, white, to clean yourself up with, after he loses himself inside you once again. He'll laugh with you, teeth on show, white, as you talk into the early hours of the morning. He'll watch the moon reflect in the ocean waves with you, white, until you both fall asleep.

And you'll feel all pink; rosy cheeks, blushed lips, bubblegum heart and peachy pigmented skin from his kisses that bloom like posies. Pink like the early dawn skies over quiet ocean waves, and pink like your favourite wine that can get you tipsy with just a few sips. Pink and pretty like his lips that pout even when he's asleep. Pink like the pads of your feet as you tiptoe to the bathroom to get a glass of water as quietly as you can. Pink, like the faint light next to the plug socket where his phone is plugged into a charger. Pink, like the tiny light at the top of his screen to let him know he has a flurry of unread notifications; missed calls.

Except it's not pink at all.

It's red.

Your eyes are just tired, and you're deluding yourself. Just like you have been of every single red flag that Jungkook has presented to you so far.

But when you look at the mess of blonde hair that belongs to the man hidden in the white sheets which have kept you warm all night, everything is pink again.

"Sleep," he mumbles as you crawl back into bed, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close. His lips rest in the crook of your neck, a lazy kiss delicately finding its home there.

"I'm sleeping," you whisper, the white lie nothing more than a joke that you're both in on.

"Promise?" he sleepily humours you, to which you smile.

"Pinky."

────────────

There's a magic to sea air.

It's not quite Disney, and definitely isn't Hogwarts, but it's something. It makes you feel all excited, and giddy, and like the world is at your feet. If you say the right words, or swish and flick a little bit of driftwood in the right order, then maybe you'll find that the world isn't all that hard to acquire.

Because maybe it's not the sea air that's magic. Maybe it's just what comes with being beside someone like Jeon Jungkook.

You quickly learn that there's a side to him you never knew. It's one that's incredibly mundane, but just as refreshing as the peach teas he points out to you on every cafe menu, 'cause he knows how much you like them, and doesn't want you to miss out on the opportunity to indulge in something you find such simple pleasure in.

Jungkook smiles.

He smiles a lot.

He smiles at the harbour views, at the elderly as they walk past, and at the market stall owners who charge him far too much for a stick of strawberry tanghulu. He smiles when you ask him about his life in Busan, and he smiles when you get distracted by every single dog you walk past, regardless of the conversation you've been engaged in.

He smiles when you tell him you fancy Italian for dinner, instead of engaging in an awkward back and forth of 'what do you want?', 'no, what do you want?'.

He smiles when you reach the halfway checkpoint of the Igidae coastal trail. You're leaning on the wooden bannister, clearly out of breath but pretending to look at the view instead - and it's a beautiful view, at that. Clear blue skies, waves that crash and mellow within the same second, and an endless cerulean sea.

He thinks about all the possibilities out there, and half-wonders if maybe he could just get on a boat with you and say goodbye to the choices he's made.

The only choice he's been sure of lately is you, and when his horizon is blocked by your sloping shoulders and claw-clipped hair, he's pretty sure you're the only opportunity he wants to experience from now on.

He's never walked this trail before, but he wanted to show you the best of Busan, hoping it would convince you that you're also seeing the best of him. As he pulls on your hand, pointing out the little numbers some poor soul had scribbled on the stairs to reassure other hikers how many were left, you're positive that you'd walk the trail a thousand times over, just to be met with his smile at the end.

Because Jeon Jungkook smiles.

He smiles and he smiles and he smiles.

He smiles over dinner, in a tight little hole-in-the-wall pizzeria, that at least attempts to make pizza authentic, even if they do have '+corn, 500w' next to every single option. He smiles when he tells you to put your card away, 'cause it's on him, and then he smiles when you trip on the ledge between the restaurant and the street.

You don't fall because he's holding your hand with a grip so tight you swear your fingers might actually fall off.

"One beer and you're legless," he teases, his hold on your hand tightening as he loops his arm over your shoulder. It's a warm embrace; one that fills your nose with the scent of his aftershave, and plasters an equally large smile on your face. He's infectious, it would seem, and not once has he insisted that you wear a mask since you arrived in Busan.

"Fuck off," you laugh, walking down the street together as if this is how it's always been.

Not a single person gives you a second glance, not even the middle-aged men sat drinking outside of the bar at the end of the street. It's dark, lamposts and decorative fairy lights guiding you home, the city alive with the hustle and bustle of whatever happens after dark. The noraebangs in the area are all hostess bars, and the actual bars are packed, so home is where you're headed. There's no company you'd rather keep than one another's.

"I love this place," you muse. There's a vibrancy here that you've been missing in Daegu, but if you were to take a moment to think about it, the cities have nothing to do with it. It's the boy, and the lack of distractions from him, that you really enjoy.

"Home sweet home," he replies nonchalantly. "Ain't nothing like it."

"You miss living here?"

Your question is met with silence. You leave it a moment, thinking that Jungkook is just debating his answer. Perhaps it isn't something he's ever given much thought to before. That seems like a safe assumption to make.

The answer would reveal a truth that Jungkook isn't quite ready to admit to just yet - but he wants to admit it. Wants to tell you everything.

All the things you should know, and all the secrets he wishes you'll never find out.

It's inevitable that one day you will find out, and he wonders if it would hurt more coming from his tongue. Regretfully, he thinks it will. To lie is to be merciful, or so he tells himself.

"You're so-" he begins so decidedly that it's almost a surprise, yet he cuts himself off. It's like he shocked even himself with the outburst. He glances down to his hand - the one you're holding onto - laughs, and then gazes back to the end of the street, where the dark tide is rolling onto a shallow beach. With a shake of his head, he says 'fuck it' to his reservations, and tries out a little honestly. "You're fucking with my head, you are."

There's a smile on his lips despite the accusation, and it has you smiling, too. You think nothing of it more than flirtatious banter.

"Oh yeah?" You toy. "How so?"

He knows this tone of yours, and knows you've taken it well; knows that all he can do is play along, so as to not raise suspicions. He doesn't mean to be so erratic with his thoughts, and in turn, his words - but he isn't kidding. You really are fucking with his pretty little head.

"How are you not?" He flirts back. "Can't think straight when I'm around you."

He watches as you drop your head, your nose all scrunched up, in the same way his own nose scrunches up whenever you're too kind to him. The only difference is he doesn't believe he's being kind at all.

You deserve more than he can - or is willing to - give you.

There's untapped potential between the pair of you, that will sadly remain that way. He figures he should make the most of this while it lasts; hold your hand as much as he can, get lost for days in the scent of your hair, and make you laugh for hours on end. He knows he'll miss hearing it when it all ends.

You don't know it yet, but you'll miss it too.

Maybe you'd do things differently if you knew that your time was limited.

"You're stupid," you reply rather childishly, because it's the best your bashful brain can think of. "Is that why you nearly hit me that night on the bridge? When you were racing? Too distracted by how much of a mindfuck I am?"

"You have any idea how much easier my life would have been if I had just hit you?" He muses, looking down at you.

You wait until he's finished his words to look back at him, but you wish that you hadn't, 'cause there's a look in his eyes which makes you think he isn't lying.

It should scare you - but like an uncomfortably awkward damsel in distress from a vampire movie, crushing on a bloke who is definitely a little bit too creepy for anyone's liking - it doesn't.

"Far easier," you guess, not letting your smile drop. "Waking up next to me must be torture."

"Waking up next you," he nods. "Sharing my aux with you, paying my water bill after learning just how much you like showers hot enough to kill a lobster. Hate it all."

"Oh god, me too," you say quickly before his lips cut you off for a second, only to let you finish a moment later. "Hate it so much. So glad we're on the same pa-"

This time, it's not the lips of the boy you like a little too much cutting you off, but the voice of a boy you're sure you could grow to like just as much, if ever given the opportunity.

"Well I fuckin' never," a voice booms from across the street in your direction.

You ignore it, not really thinking anything of it - just some rowdy lads who are talking amongst themselves after a few too many beers, you assume - until Jungkook's head snaps in the direction of the voice.

His expression is startled, but quickly softens to his usual boyish disposition. There's a defensiveness, though, to the way his hand tightens around yours - until he drops it altogether.

"Kim Taehyung," Jungkook beams, adjusting his posture so that you're partially shielded from the man across the street, who's checking both sides to make sure it's clear before he crosses.

He's handsome, in a way that's entirely different to Jungkook. His broadness isn't exclusive to his shoulders, but the way he carries himself, and the sleazy smile that rests on his lips where a cigarette fits snug. He exhales, and crosses the road, the grin on his face only getting larger.

"Jeon Jungkook," he nods, greeting him with such familiarity that you feel all embarrassed.

You've no idea who this man is. His name has never been mentioned before. In fact, no names have ever been mentioned. There's little you know about Jungkook.

Sure, you know how he mindlessly fidgets, and how he whines when your tongue strokes against his taint, but what do you really know about him? Nothing of any value. Nothing that signifies you're of any value to him.

"And who's this?" Taehyung asks, but Jungkook's reply only further confirms your assumptions.

The question is addressed to you, Taehyung looking just as dangerous as that cigarette in his mouth is. He's a slow burn, you think, the kind of boy who'll grow on you, and before you know it, you'll be just another victim of his charm. It's unsurprising that he would be acquainted with Jungkook. After all, the company you keep is a reflection of yourself.

You look to Jungkook, who looks over his shoulder back to you. He's not really looking at you, per say, not how he does when you're alone. When he turns back to face Taehyung, you see the way his cheeks rise to smile, and you don't mind his coldness all of a sudden.

But then he opens his mouth and you think if you weren't such stone-cold bitch, you'd cry.

"Just a friend from Daegu. No one special."

It's humiliating, granted, but any reaction would only serve to embarrass you both - so you simply keep quiet, and smile. Your brows lift a little, eyes on Taehyung, who takes a toke as he looks between you and Jungkook.

He's smirking as he exhales, like he knows Jungkook is full of shit.

"Well, fuck me. I gotta find myself some friends in Daegu. Taehyung," he says as he holds his hand out for you to shake, with a look on his face like he hasn't eaten for a week.

There's something about him that's refreshing. He's an asshole, yes - undeniable - but at least he doesn't pretend not to be, like Jungkook does. He's undressing you with his eyes in the same way that Jungkook does with his hands. And for what Jungkook just said? You're pleased. Maybe you should let Taehyung take you home instead - after all, according to Jungkook, you're just a friend from Daegu. No one special.

"Uh-uh," Jungkook shakes his head. He's teasing, but he steps further in front of you, blocking Taehyung from your vision. "I know what you're like, Tae. Hands off this one."

The way he's talking makes you wanna turn on your heels and walk all the way back to fucking Daegu. Whoever it is that's currently shielding you from the danger of a fuck boy isn't Jungkook. Not the Jungkook you know at least.

"I'm just a friendly guy," Taehyung jokes back. "You know me. What brings you back home? Haven't since you since the wake. Been a while."

Jungkook's back stiffens, but Taehyung doesn't notice.

"Just some family stuff. Thought I'd make a weekend of it." He tilts his head back towards you. The movement has Taehyung's eyes on you again. To feel so unapologetically desired is thrilling, but it kind of makes you sick. You want Jungkook to hold your hand. Signify that you're his. Tell Taehyung that he doesn't stand a chance. But of course, he doesn't. "Thought I'd show her around. Visit some old haunts. How have you been?"

"All good," Taehyung replies, not really interested in what Jungkook has to say. It's formality, really. If he cared that much about what Jungkook had been up to, he would have made more of an effort to keep in touch. "Saw your brother yesterday, actually."

God, it's like one sucker punch after another. A brother? You've no idea who this man is.

"Seeing him tomorrow," Jungkook nods, and again, it's bloody fucking news to you. "He good?"

"Baby's keeping him up all hours apparently, he looks fucking exhausted. Met the baby yet?"

"Nah, nah, tomorrow," Jungkook says, and you're surprised by how... mundane the conversation is. You can't tell if they're friends, or if there's something more troubling at play. Everything feels coded, but you're struggling to read into it. You're too fixated on how much of Jungkook's life you're unaware of.

"Oh, nice," Taehyung replies. "You should come by the boxing club while you're in town. Be good to see you. I'm sure the boys would be pleased to see Busan's finest back where he belongs." He looks over Jungkooks shoulder to you, again, and smiles in that sultry way you're sure enables him to never go without a bed to sleep in. "Bring your friend with you. Think we could all do with a new friend."

The way he talks is crude. It's unapologetic, and if it were any other man, you'd probably be repulsed - but you're too busy being pissed off with Jungkook to care.

"Think I could do with a new friend, too," you hum back, lips pouty, chest a little pushed forward. "See you there?"

"Oh, I'll be waiting," Taehyung almost fucking moans.

Jungkook presses the pad of his thumb across the tops of his fingers, one by one, clicking them in their sockets. His frustration is evident, but the grave he's in is one that he dug himself.

You may feel like you don't know him, but he knows you. He should have anticipated that you wouldn't play nice after he said something like that.

But oh, on the contrary - you think you are playing nice. Very nice. For Taehyung, you'll be the nicest girl in the world.

And that's all Jungkook can think about.

It's intrusive, the thought of just how nice you can be.

He's thinking of your hair, all nice and tied up in a ponytail, and how Tae's hand could wrap around it. He's thinking about your pretty little knees, and how good you look when you're on them. He's thinking about your chest - God, he fucking loves your chest - and how it stands to attention when you're cold. And of course, you'd be cold, 'cause he's imagining all of this happening in the back rooms of the boxing club. At least you wouldn't be able to come, but he's barely been making that happen lately, anyways.

If there's one thing he hates more than the idea of you with Tae, it's himself.

Taehyung says his farewells, and lets his gaze linger on you for far too long, and says "you've got a look about you, friend from Daegu. Something familiar," before heading back to where he came from. The gaggle of lads he was with are still waiting for him. It seems as if he's in charge; the ringleader of sorts.

It intrigues you.

But he doesn't entice you the way that Jungkook does.

There's no softness to him, not like Jungkook with his big, round, chocolate button eyes and ever-scrunched nose.

You're mad at him now, though. Pissed. In fact, you begin to walk away as soon as Taehyung is gone, because you simply don't want to be around him any longer. You're even thinking about booking yourself in for a separate hotel room. Fuck his gestures, and fuck the effort he's made. Means fuck all, now.

Who the fuck does that? Who brings you to their hometown - into their life - and turns around and dismisses what you are to them so cruelly? He'd paid god knows what for that hotel, driven the pair of you to the city, paid for everything despite your protests, and asked for nothing in return.

You know full well that if you'd have gotten back to the hotel before the Taehyung incident, and had been too tired to fuck, or just not in the mood, Jungkook wouldn't have cared. Even sex wasn't something he seemed to think he was owed. Not like most guys.

He'd have probably stroked love letters onto your back with the tip of his index finger until you fell asleep, instead.

See, there are - or at least there were - no expectations with Jungkook, which is probably what makes this all so disappointing for you. Foolishly, you thought you had a good one in him.

He's a man, though. How good can they ever really be?

Heels clicking against the pavement as you walk, you sound far more powerful than you feel. You want to take your stupid fucking shoes off and launch them at his stupid fucking head. How dare he reduce to nothingness.

"Hey," he calls after you, as if he hasn't just torn your heart out, hands all bloody while he toys with it. "CC! Hold up!"

There's a trail of blood as you walk that leads to the hole in your chest, and so he follows it like a bloodhound in search of its prey.

He repeats his call when you ignore him, catching up with you far too easily for your liking. You don't like getting caught.

"What?" You snap, arms folded across your chest, but you keep on walking. A gaggle of girls walk by, far too drunk to be in heels that high, and they coo a little bit as they clock Jungkook. You find yourself sneering. "Oh look. Some more friends for you to make."

"Hey, c'mon," he reaches out for you but you shake him off, so he tries again, a little harder. It doesn't hurt, and if you want to, you can pull away.

Shamefully, you can't bring yourself to. Those with the power to hurt are also apparently those with the power to heal - and all you want is for him to put your heart back where it belongs and kiss it better.

"You know I didn't-"

"Didn't what?" You fight, because that's all you're really good at. "Mean it? Mean to say it? Or didn't think that this actually meant anything?"

"Fuck," he seethes a little, teeth gritted and jaw sharp. He loosens his grip on you, and rubs the pads of his fingers against his jaw instead, tongue pressing into the side of his cheek. His nostrils are flared, and there's bite behind his bark. "Don't turn this into something that it isn't."

"I'm not turning it into anything," you say so calmly that it's almost unsettling. "But turn it into what? A lovers tiff? No worries. We're just friends, babe. Can't turn it into one of those."

"You're being unreasonable."

"I'm being perfectly reasonable."

"CC-"

"I've got a name," you remind him. "Maybe use that, instead. CC feels a little... I don't know. More than friendly? And we wouldn't wanna blur those lines, would we?"

"Christ. Can you stop?" he pleads, the frustration he feels overwhelmed by the desperate need to control the situation. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"I don't think you know what you meant, Jungkook," you shrug, because fuck letting him think you're hurt. "You just let some guy fuck me with his eyes, because according to you, we're just friends. You saw that, right? You saw the way he was looking at me like a piece of fucking meat? And you let him."

Jungkook doesn't say anything for a moment. His body is stiff, as if he's rebooting; calibrating to find an answer. Yes, he had let Tae do whatever the fuck he liked, because it was easier than explaining the truth of who you are to him. Safer. In his eyes, it had been a lesser of two evils, but you're seeing Jungkook as the only evil.

Your chest is beating so hard in your chest that the thump, thump, thump has drowned out the chime that's usually there.

"No," he tries again. "It's not like that. I know what I said, but it's not what I meant."

And then you do that thing again. You calm yourself, your voice so serene and superficial that it makes his skin crawl. He can tell how angry you are, and yet you're so fucking pleasant. It's psychotic - but how can he complain about your anger when you're fucking smiling at him like he just saved a bird from drowning?

"You don't have to explain, Jungkook. It's cool"

"No," he protests, but it's met with vacancy behind your eyes. "I do."

"No," you say, tone firm and assertive. You don't need to be let down gently. Your feelings don't need to be spared. "You know what I'm like. I need to stop making so many assumptions."

Ouch. He can practically feel the dagger you have for a tongue slicing at his heart.

"Well what did you assume?" He asks, because playing along seems like the only way he can get you to engage in conversation with him.

"My assumptions are mine," you say quietly, walking closer towards him, until your index finger can tap against his chest. "Maybe if we were friends, I'd share them with you. But I don't share with people who only know how to take. From the look in Taehyung's eyes, it seems like he knows how to give a thing or two, so who knows, Jungkook? Maybe I'll share with him."

Jungkook is silent.

It's a threat. He fucking knows it's a threat.

All those missed orgasms seem like a terrible idea, now. He thought he'd been helping, thought that you'd just think he was an idiot, like any other guy who didn't know where the fucking clit was. Thought it would help slow the feelings that are developing regardless.

But you knew he knew.

He's a fucking connoisseur. He's had you coming undone in ways that no other man has ever gotten close to. For him to suddenly forget how to make you tremble on his fingers was laughable.

You'd chosen not to mention it, because foolishly, you thought that you were the issue - but if he's gonna hurt your pride, then you're gonna hurt his right back.

You shake your head, and walk to the curb, raising your arm for the taxi that's hurtling down the road. There's a screech as it comes to a stop, almost like a reset button being pressed.

You feel a weight being eased from your chest, glad to have finally put him in his place for the no-gasm issue, but a new weight is just as heavy on your feet. You open the door, think about getting in, but can't. For some reason, the idea of leaving without him has you close to tears.

Asking the driver to wait just a minute, you turn to find him fixated on you, those soft chocolate eyes of his so warm as they stare you down. His brows are lifted, mouth firmly pursed shut, but you can see from the way his chest is beating that he's breathing heavier than his lungs can really manage.

You've never seen him cry, but you think you might tonight.

"C'mon," you eventually say, knocking your head to the side. You've a lot fight in you, but far more fear. You don't know what you mean to Jungkook, and you're not gonna kid yourself and pretend like you feel secure in it - but you know what he means to you. The idea of him staying elsewhere has you feeling all feeble and pathetic. You don't think he would, but you know that he could. "It's late. Let's just go back to the hotel."

He stuffs his hands into his front pockets and looks down, the usual confidence he wears masked by a thin layer of shame. It has a sheen to it; a stain. He's not the man that he wants to be for you, and he knows you're starting to wise up to it.

"Kook," you encourage, but he still resists.

He doesn't deserve this; doesn't deserve you. Doesn't deserve the olive branch you're extending, when he knows he should be on his knees begging like a dog.

He could do that for you. Beg like a dog, in his own, fucked up, kind of way.

On his hands and knees. Begging.

In fact, he thinks it's the only thing can do for you right now.

And so he gets in the taxi as you ask, and stays quiet.

The drive is silent, but taxi rides often are, so he tries to ignore it. When you go to pay, he holds your hand back, and offers up his card instead. The grip he has is gentle, but it burns like the heat of a thousand matches, and when it leaves, you're left smouldering. You don't want to lose the heat, no matter how much damage it can do.

Silence permeates, and dulls the chime in your stomach that you'd expect to hear in a hotel elevator with Jungkook.

So much silence.

Silence as the door to your hotel room clicks open, and silence as you kick off your shoes. Silence when your bag is tossed on the bed, and silence when Jungkook's shoes join your own.

There's silence as he walks to stand behind you while you look out onto the midnight sea, and there's silence when he presses a kiss into the crook of your neck.

There's silence when he whispers your name, and silence when you hum in satisfaction from the way his lips feel against the expanse of your throat.

Silence so loud that you want to scream.

Silence so loud that you wouldn't be able to hear the scream regardless.

Silence, silence, silence that is so fucking loud, you must be deaf.

But you can hear the small intakes of breath that he takes between the kisses he peppers on your skin. You can hear the click of his lips, and the way he whispers 'I didn't mean it,' as if it would eradicate the hurt caused by such a simple exchange of words.

And then his hands of fire are creeping beneath your shirt, and you're all warm and pliable for him.

You so desperately want proof that he didn't mean what he said, and if there's one thing you're sure of, it's that he doesn't fuck you like you're just a friend.

So you think you might just let him.

He can tell you're apprehensive and he knows why, and that he has to prove himself to you. Moonlight pours in through the window, and you're bathed in it like some kind of ethereal goddess that will surely disappear when dawn breaks. He has to make this last.

He strips you of your clothes, and funnily enough, it isn't the most vulnerable you've felt in the last few hours. In fact, you feel confident, now. You know what you're doing when it comes to matters of the body. Matters of the heart? Not so much.

Your capabilities for either of those aren't required now, though. This is all on him.

He encourages you to the bed, so you sit by the foot, and wait for instruction.

"Lie down," he says, eyes remarkably on yours, and not your tits instead. It must be a first.

It's curious how softly he looks at you; almost like you could break.

Maybe it's because he knows he has to be extra careful, because he's the only one capable of breaking you.

And so you nod, because maybe, just maybe, he could fix you, too.

In fact, when he gets to his knees and grips his palms around your ankles to drag you closer to the end of the bed, you can almost feel your heart swelling. Healing.

Y'see, it's familiar, and safe, and certain; Jungkook will fuck you, and you will mistake the way he kisses you when he cums as a declaration of something more than what it is.

For now, though, he's only thinking about ways to get you off. Anything is on the table. He'll do it all. Do whatever you ask. Do things you're too afraid to ask.

He spreads your legs apart, and spends longer than is normally comfortable staring at you. He's appreciating it; the way your lips slowly part, a little damp and so delightfully warm. He loves your scent. Wishes he could bottle it up - but for now, he'll settle for drinking from the source.

When his tongue strokes against you, it's slow. The pressure behind it feels intentional, the warm studs of his tongue piercing making your toes curl from just one touch. He exhales against you, then inhales because - fuck me - you smell divine. His tongue licks again, languid and flat, his head nodding ever so gently. The change in movement has your hands gripping onto the sheets, a shallow affirmation of 'fuck, Kook, yes' spurring him on.

He hums against you, and you swear it's better than any vibrator you've ever had. It's almost as if he's saying something, but can't get his words out - which would make sense, given the fact his mouth of full of your pussy. His tongue points, as his palms rest on the underside of your thighs to angle you a little better for him.

He pushes his tongue into your entrance, and it has you mewling. Wetness seeps into his mouth, sweet and musky, just how he fucking likes it, and he's doing that thing where he whines against you again, and you swear you might just cum right there and then.

It's noticeable, though, how your grip is on the sheets, and not him.

Your heels are digging into the duvet, not pressing against the top of his spine, and your fingers aren't in his hair.

Still, your pussy is leaking onto his tongue, and arguably, he could be fooled into thinking you've let down your guard for him.

But you haven't really.

He can see this; the way you've detached sex, and the pleasure that it coexists with, from the emotional intimacy he's fostered with you.

It's like he can touch you, but you're scared to touch him. You're using him - and he knows he deserves it.

When he pulls away from you, clear strings of slick connect his mouth to your core. The sheen covers his lips, his chin, the tip of his nose. Moonlight drenches him, and in turn, so do you. He watches how your chest heaves as his fingers come to replace the pressure from his tongue on your pussy.

Your body may be his, but you're not.

'Touch me,' he wants to say, but he's embarrassed by how badly he seems to have fucked up the one good thing going for him - and so he pushes his fingers into you, hoping that he'll be able to get you forgetting about the fact he's no good for you; get you wanting him like you used to.

And you do.

Oh god, you do, so badly.

There's nothing you want more than to have your fingers tangled in his hair, have him hissing when you pull a little too hard, keeping him locked in position against the mess he's made - but you're embarrassed. You fear that by taking any kind of leading role, you'll be forcing him to play along to something he isn't really all that into.

As much as you could pretend like you don't care about what happened earlier, it's chewing you apart, inside out, making it harder for you to get there.

Your body keens for him, though. The sounds of his fingers working your pussy are lewd, and only amplified when he spits on it in that way he always does. It drives you insane, but even now, you're floundering.

"Hey," you whisper, and your hand finally comes to rest against his hair. He leans into your touch, heart stiff in his chest as it appears to stop beating altogether. How a touch so simple can have him so damn wrecked is beyond him. He hums a response, and is met with a gentle tap against his bleached ends. He looks towards you to find you looking back, and the stillness of his heart is replaced with a beat so loud he swears it sounds like a thunderstorm is hurtling across the ocean. "Stand."

Your voice is soft, and Jungkook is confused, but he doesn't question it. He does as he's told, because quite frankly, he'll do anything you want at this point. He'd get on his knees, on his back - fuck it, he'd even get face down, ass up, if that's what you wanted - but you don't. Not now, at least. Maybe another time.

Right now, you want him as vulnerable as you feel.

When he stands, he keeps his fingers inside of you. He's gentle, massaging, making sure the movements aren't too rough. You've never shied away from things getting a little heated, but there's a time and a place for that. You don't want it hard. You want soft. Soft, soft, soft, like his eyes.

"Clothes," you say, almost timidly, unable to string your words together in a way that makes coherent sense. He knows what you mean, though, and slowly pulls his fingers from you, not caring to wipe them off. You're pristine, in his eyes. He couldn't care less about how dirty you could make him. He'd wear it like a badge of fucking honour.

He takes his shirt off first, eyes never leaving yours. He can see the way your heart is beating beneath your chest, and decides pretty quickly that he needs your tits in his mouth at some point before the night is done. His favourite fuckin' feature of his favourite fuckin' person - when he's horny, at least. He could list a million things he likes just as much, but his brain kind of just short circuits when he can see your chest looking all heavy and pliable and like it belongs in his mouth.

There's a clang, the metal of his belt tapping against itself, his tattooed fingers working quickly to rid himself of all his constraints. He pulls it from the loops of his trousers, tossing it on the bed just in case he'll need it later.

Your lips rest ajar, but you close your legs a little, watching him unbutton his jeans. He lets them drop, revealing the white of his Calvins.

He usually wears dark boxer briefs, which are always welcomed by you - but there's something about the white that has you salivating.

The outline of his cock is thick. He's stiff, and there's a tiny tell-tale mark of precum leaking from his tip. The contrast of his honey skin against the crisp white is the kind of visual you'd expect to see on a Hollywood billboard; not in your hotel room with you.

He'd worn them deliberately, expecting this kind of reaction, but had anticipated a far different feeling in the room.

The look on his face doesn't match the confidence that his strong body oozes. His wide eyes are just as vulnerable as yours. You both look like you're gonna fucking cry, which is actually kinda funny, when you think about it - but you don't laugh.

Perhaps that would be the most vulnerable thing you could share with him, and he with you: tears. There's a heaviness between the pair of you, the weight of unspoken words, hidden truths and deceptive intentions, which have led to the cluster fuck that is the relations of which you engage in.

It's just fucking, but it's also not. Not really. If it was just fucking, he'd be railing you right now, just like he did on that very first night you spent together.

But instead, he's cautious as he asks, "Where do you want me?"

You have to bite your tongue and stop it from saying 'inside me.' You're trying to keep your heart safe. Distance is needed. You're scared he's gonna steal it if he gets too close.

Pulling your legs up, cross-legged in front of him, you give him a look that he doesn't understand, but one that he knows means no harm.

He thinks you're asking permission to move, so he nods, and is proven right. You crawl a little further towards him, on your knees, until you're at the end of the bed. You sit up on your knees, shorter than him still, but the height is more matched than it is when you're standing on solid ground.

You give him that look again, and so - of course - he just nods. He's yours. You can do whatever you fucking like to him. He'd take anything you'd give him, pleasure or pain. He's stoic in the way that he stands, but you can see his jugular vein beating like he's just gone three rounds in the boxing ring.

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, right where the V of his hips meets the fabric, your eyes are on his.

It's torture, knowing you could be watching his thick, swollen cock spring free, but this isn't about the sex. Not really.

He bends a little, pushing his underwear to his ankles, kicking them off to the side and resuming his position in front of you. You still haven't looked at his cock, even though the thought of it has slick wetness seeping onto your inner thigh.

Your hand finds one of his, and pulls it to his cock. It throbs as you wrap Jungkook's hand around it, nodding at him, before retreating.

He's stood at the end of the bed, naked, hand tight around his fat, leaky cock, eyes on yours as you sit by the pillows. Your legs are crossed, knees up, covering your chest, light from the moon washing over you both.

He looks heaven-sent in this light. A white halo whisps around his fluffy blonde hair, the thick lines of his tattoos defined, his body carved from marble. And yet there's still a softness to him. It's in his eyes. Big and round; home in human form.

And so, for all the fear, for all the ways he has you scared about his intentions, for all the sheer instances of turmoil you put your heart through, none of it really matters.

In this moment, you feel safe.

"Wanna watch," you say quietly. You can see the way he swallows, his chest doing a terrible job of hiding the fact he actually seems to be a little bit nervous.

"Watch?"

You nod. "Wanna watch the way you get yourself off."

The request is simple, but it feels more complex than that - and it is. You want him vulnerable. You want him weak. You want him falling apart all over you without even so much as a single touch from you.

In his heart of hearts, he knows all this.

He knows, and still, he wants to do it for you.

There are sins to repent, and this feels like a start.

"Wanna see the way you touch yourself when you think about me," you continue, because you like the way his eyes look so pure and chaste at such a request.

There's a shadow to his face, the moon only illuminating half of his body, but it runs deeper than that. Divine feminity is a gift from the celestial body that watches over you, and it overcomes him, too.

Despite the hardness of his muscles, the metal of his piercings and the stiffness of his cock, he's so, undeniably soft for you.

Soft and velvety, just like his eyes. Soft and timid, like the boy who cried wolf and finally got caught. Soft, and softer still, when he says your name in such a hushed tone it barely reaches your ears.

"You do that, right?" You ask, though the answer is granted by how utterly enthralled he is with you - or at least, your body. "You think of me when you touch yourself?"

He nods, licking a slow stripe across his lower lip, before biting down on it.

His tight fist begins to roll up his cock, slowly bringing it back down again to the base of his shaft. There's a hypnotic quality to the way his foreskin retracts, exposing how red and flushed the tip of his cock is. There's desire burning through it, and he needs you - your pussy, your mouth - to soothe it.

He knows he isn't getting it, so instead, he revels in the pain that comes with being refused your body.

He's tepid as he starts, but his pace quickly builds, and so does the way he's moaning. It's a miracle you can even remember how to breathe. His torso is tense as he lets the pleasure run over his body, head tipping back, the expanse of his throat thick and wide, just like his cock.

He hums, imagining the way your pussy is leaking as you watch the show he's putting on for you.

He's not a performer, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the way he moves his body has you thinking that maybe in a past life, he could have been. You'd pay good money to watch him on stage. You'd devote yourself to him. Watch from the crowd as he sold himself to a thousand people every night. He'd be the main event, the headlining act, and maybe if you were lucky, he'd stick around for an encore.

What a shame, you think, that he never took advantage of his boyish charm and deliriously handsome face - but more fool him. You're the one who gets to reap the benefits, as you watch him now, free of charge, front row seat.

And yet, somehow, he seems to adore the crowd more than the crowd adores him. It fills your ego. Has you convinced that you've ruined this poor boy's life. Maybe you have.

"You're gonna think of me for the rest of your life," you tell him of your conclusion from your perch up by the pillows.

He so often talks in definitive certainties, that it's only fair you return the favour - but, remember, you're just friends, according to Jungkook. Best not to get ahead of yourself.

You find yourself prowling down the bed on all fours, stopping just beyond his reach. There's something primal about his gaze now. Predatory - but you aren't his prey. You're not going to get caught.

"Give it twenty years," you simper, rolling onto your back so your ankles are by the pillows, eyes on his cock as you tilt your head back. Kneading one of your boobs, you let your other hand dip between your legs. "When you're married, and your poor wife can't get you hard anymore, it's gonna be me who you think about."

"Shit," he hisses, both hating and loving what you're saying. Hating it because you're probably right, but loving it because, again, you're definitely right.

"It's gonna be me," you repeat. "When you get hard in your car, 'cause another girl has put her hand on your thigh. It's gonna be me you're thinking about."

He wants to protest. Wants to tell you that there'll never be another girl. He'd be lying, probably, but fuck knows why he'd ever give you up. Would have to be insane, you think, or something like that.

You know just as much as he does, that symbiotic energy like yours doesn't occur all too often.

"When your couples therapist asks what you think could be done to spice up your dead marital bedroom, it's gonna be me - gonna be this, right now - that you think of."

"C," he husks, unable to even get the full term of endearment out. There's a clammy sheen to his body now, his arm jerking at such a pace his veins are all engorged and pretty, just how you like them.

"It's gonna be me," you say again, barely a whisper, but it's enough.

And he agrees. "It's gonna be you."

Victory and defeat all in one blow; you're his forever, but it's likely he won't be yours.

He senses the heaviness behind his words, and the weight they've put of your chest, so he tries distraction as a method of easing it.

"Open your legs," he husks, the final syllable catching in his throat. When you do as you're told, he fucking whines.

The slickness pooling around the top of your thighs is sticky and hot, strings of clear fluid connecting your legs - all of you - together as you spread yourself for him. He nods, and it's your turn to obey, now.

Your fingers begin to rub at your clit, and Jungkook almost just give himself upright in that second. He swallows back the saliva that's pooling in his mouth, his cock growing hotter and heavier in his grasp. The way he's pumping himself is gonna have him finishing far quicker than he'd like, but he can't stop.

Not when you're looking up at him like that. Not when you're matching his moans.

"Don't stop," you almost beg as you see him begin to ease up. Returning his eyes to yours, his lips are parted. His hand continues to jerk, just a little slower.

"I gotta," he whines, but does as he's told, his grip a little looser than it had been. The muscles in his abdomen are tight. His balls, too. You want them in your mouth.

He watches as you turn, resuming the position you'd been in earlier.

As you wrap your arms around his neck for support, Jungkook finds himself grunting, picking his pace back up. He can smell you, your gasoline hair and sweet pussy, and it has him unable to think straight. Unable to do anything other than jerk himself off for you, because it's what you want.

The world. He'd give you that. If you wanted it, he'd give you it. He thinks he'd give you anything. Everything. Whatever he could.

The only thing he can't give you, not really, is himself.

And so he'll settle for everything and anything else your heart could ever desire.

But as your lips meet his, he knows that he's fucked, and that the only thing you really want is him.

Your kisses are slow, and tepid; a stark difference from the way his hand is working his cock, but it's everything he needs. How selfish, it is, that he still gets what he wants.

Unaware, you pull away, pressing your foreheads together, lips brushing his as you say, "you're gonna cum for me, now."

He tries to ask where, but you just kiss him instead. You kiss, and you kiss, and you kiss, and he's so fucking consumed that he barely notices when he starts gasping against your lips. His body begins to stall, muscles mirroring the way he begins to stutter, and then it's happening.

The tip of his cock is pressed against your stomach as he begins to unload himself, once, twice, and then he's sensitive, and trying to pull back, but he's still coming and - "Oh, fuck, babe" - he's painting you white with the innocence of the way he feels about you.

It's everywhere by the time he's done; your tummy, the underside of your breasts, dripping down to the mound of your pussy. He can barely fucking breathe, so caught up in the way it always feels to have you kiss him through his orgasm.

His hands grip your jaw, pulling you in for more, because he needs to distract his mouth from the words he's scared are gonna tumble from it. You both ignore the fact they're covered in the seed that's just spilt over onto them. It's nothing new, after all.

It's not like he's gonna declare love, or anything fucking ridiculous like that, he just doesn't know how the fuck he feels - and that's dangerous.

Unpredictability only leads to messiness, which it could be argued is what's happening right now.

Still, Jungkook hooks his hands beneath your ass and moves onto the bed with you, and thinks it's a pretty nice problem to have.

His cock is firm still, nestled in the warmness of your pussy as your legs wrap around his hips. Neither of you care about his cum, and it's interesting how often you seem to be covered in one another, with no desire to rid yourselves of it.

He didn't make you cum, but it was your choice, this time.

It's funny, because you're one who is scared now that an orgasm could have you falling in love. You don't want to give him that power back. Not yet, at least.

Your kisses dissolve into light pecks, the pair of you unable to hold back from worshipping one another. But you must, for it's foolish to idolise mortal Gods.

"This doesn't seem very friendly, Kook," you whisper.

Your chest feels uneasy as you joke. He closes his eyes, hanging his head in shame against yours, knowing that it was him and his inability to ever say the right fuckin' thing that had you refusing to fuck him that evening.

He's not stupid. He knows you stopped him from making you cum. He knows why. And he hates himself for it.

He presses a kiss against your cheek, once, twice, and works his way to your lips. It's goofy, the way he's planting little seeds of love all over your skin, but only time will tell if he'll water them. For now, you think you'd quite like to imagine the wildflower garden that could bloom in their wake.

"It's cause it's not, CC," he admits. "It's not very friendly at all."

And then, you just can't seem to help yourself as you tease, "Even if I'm just a friend from Daegu?"

He smiles, because he knows you're trying to soothe the burn of his words. Naked, spent, and vulnerable, Jungkook rolls off of you, repositioning himself so that you can rest your head on his chest. Still, neither of you care to get cleaned up. There's no disgust, nor discomfort.

More fool the both of you for thinking that this isn't love.

"You're my only friend from Daegu," he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. It's not strictly true, but he sort of wishes that it was. Wishes he knew you before he knew them.

"What about your other friends?" You ask gently, because maybe it's your fault you don't know more about him. Maybe you just haven't been asking the right questions.

Jungkook pulls the comforter over your body, 'cause he can feel how hard your nipples are against his torso, and guesses that you aren't exactly still horny now that you're asking him shit like this. Again, there's zero care for clean up just yet. Zero care for anything but one another.

And then you tack on an extra little question that has Jungkook mentally groaning.

"Who's Taehyung?"

Convinced that you're snug like a little comforter-human-burrito, Jungkook holds you tightly. He's still stark bollock naked and doesn't really care to be covered, but he wants you warm. Wants you happy.

And knows that your happiness, now, rests on open communication.

"I knew Taehyung in high school," he eventually admits. "We were both on the boxing team, and we were friends, but -" he stops, and laughs a little. "Well, I kept beating him. So on the days I'd stay behind and work on my form, shit like that, Tae would..." Jungkook sighs. And then he laughs again. "This is so embarrassing." He gently shakes his head, and then thinks fuck it. You deserve the truth, so the truth is what you're gonna get. "I started going to club more often, thought about going pro. I was pretty serious about it. Got to the point where Tae couldn't compete with me - but one thing he could do, apparently, was fuck. And I didn't know, but apparently, he could turn that into a competition, 'cause on the days I trained alone, he'd go hook up with my girlfriend."

It doesn't upset Jungkook anymore. Not really. Annoys him a little - and means there was no way he was letting Taehyung think you meant anything more to him than just casual sex.

"Shit," is all you can say.

"Yeah," Jungkook sighs. "Went on for like, 6 months. I didn't know till my dick started fucking burning. Turned out he'd given her chlamydia from someone else and in turn, me."

"Bastard."

"Right? At least wrap it up if you're gonna fuck about. Anyways, after that, it was rare for him not to pursue any girl I was interested in," Jungkook finally admits, and it feels good to get it out. Good to share. Fucking fantastic, actually. "Me saying what I said... It was a defence mechanism more than anything, and I'm sorry. I just didn't wanna give him any reason to try it on with you."

You nod slowly, because there's a lot to unpack. "What happened? With the girl?"

"We broke up," he says honestly. "That was the nail in the coffin, really. He's done it with a few other girls I've dated or fucked since then, to the point where it's definitely a pattern of behaviour, but I tend to avoid serious relationships. If I'm being honest, I haven't had one since."

"Since high school?"

God, it's mortifying, he thinks. "Since high school."

Heartbreak is a funny thing, though. You're similar in that regard. Neither of you ever want to give another person the power to break the one thing keeping you alive. It's just asking for trouble.

Then again, every single fucking thing about your 'friendship' is asking for trouble. Maybe it's fitting.

"I'm sorry," you say, because you're not sure what else to say. He squeezes the comforter bundle you're in and shrugs.

"Don't be. Just please don't have sex with Kim fuckin' Taehyung."

You laugh, because such a thing feels absurd - but it would do. You trust Jungkook. You care about Jungkook. Care for him. Care for his opinions, his well-being.

Would be a shame if that ever were to change.

But that doesn't feel like a possibility right now, so you simply don't think about it. Instead, you ask the question that you've been holding back, because you wanted to at least look a little compassionate before you got ahead of yourself.

"So what you said to him about me," you begin, and he rolls his eyes, 'cause he knows exactly where you're going with this.

"So what I said about you."

"You lied."

"I lied, CC."

The way he whispers it back to you has you all giddy and docile for him. He's dangerous, in the most delectable way.

"You like me," you accuse, and you're met with a shallow kiss, his lips curving upwards because he can't help but smile at how fucking smitten you look.

"I'm terrified of you," he smiles. "The way you make me feel scares the living daylights out of me, CC. This isn't... I'm not good at this. I mean, hello? Been out of practice since high school."

"Mmmm," you interject, questioning his statement. "You've fucked plenty of girls since high school."

His eyes roll again, because he knows you're just trying to get him to be specific.

"What do you want me to say, huh, CC?" He nudges his nose against yours, his grin prevailing as he sinks them down into a kiss. "That I spend my whole entire fuckin' day thinking about you? You stay at my place all the time. My Netflix account reckons I'm halfway through season one of Gossip Girl." You smile. It's a guilty pleasure. You watch it at his place when he leaves early for work, or on the days you arrive before him. "There's a spare toothbrush by my sink, and it's yours."

The way he emphasises 'yours' has the chime in your stomach ringing like a church bell.

"I haven't been serious about anyone since high school, so yeah, I'm a bit out of practice. I don't wanna put labels on things or move too fast or say things I can't take back. I just know it would really fucking sting if you slept with Taehyung," he smiles, attempting to lighten the fact he's basically just put his heart on the line for you. "So please just... don't."

The issue is, Jungkook's forgetting himself.

He's forgetting that you're not just you. He's not just him. The way you met wasn't organic like you think it was, and he's letting himself get wrapped up in the idea that the pair of you are just normal people who found one another despite all odds.

The thought creeps into his mind, but frankly, he wants it to fuck off. So he kisses you. Slow and deep. Just him, and you.

If he'd have met you under different circumstances, he'd have probably already asked your father's permission to-

And then it hits him. The reminder that he can never have a happy ending with you, all thanks to your fucking father.

Jungkook asked you to come to Busan for a reason. There are things you need to see, things you need to understand before it all goes to shit.

"I want you to come somewhere with me tomorrow," he husks against your lips, your noses stroking gently against one another. "Somewhere important. I've got some errands to run, and I'll see my family alone, but after that, I wanna show you something."

You nod to confirm that it's okay. Of course, you don't mind him seeing his family alone, and you could do with running a few errands yourself, so it works out well. He's opening up. Sharing. And that's all you can ask for.

It has you thinking that maybe you should do the same for him.

"Thank you," he whispers.

It's a loaded phrase, and you're not sure which part he's thanking you for, but you accept it nonetheless.

This is progress, you think.

Funny, 'cause Jungkook's the blonde one. If anyone should be a dumb bitch, it's him.

But the blonde is fake, and he's smarter than he should be after all those blows to the head in the boxing ring.

You're private school educated. Could have been anything you wanted. Could have had the world. Your daddy worked hard to make sure of it.

But as Jungkook leads you to the bathroom, stripped of everything except for the stain of his sex, you think you already have the world.

You think, for once, you finally have something good that isn't the result of nepotism or political fear.

Your daddy worked hard. He worked real hard. He gave you the world, and then some - but the world doesn't come for free, and there's a little collateral that he never counted on caring enough to fuck with his self-made solar system.

Yeah, your daddy gave you the world.

But it's Jungkook's job to give it back to its rightful owners, whether he wants to or not.

And so, as the shower begins to heat up, and the pair of you are doing what you do so well, his phone begins to buzz in the bedroom. It goes unnoticed. It's not Jungkook's priority anymore, which leaves him in quite a predicament.

The outside world can wait for a moment. He's letting himself indulge in the fantasy of you one final time.

What a brilliant, intangible fantasy you are.

But fantasy is just that;

a lie.

────────────

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

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jadedxhearts · 26 days

Text

2022 Law Birthday Event / Kinktober

Request no 4.

Originally posted in October 2022

Please note that this is an old work and isn't representative of my current writing skills!

Law could be quite crude if he so wished.

Maybe not around others, but it was generally known he was creepy and had a strange sense of humor. So while you shouldn’t have been surprised, you couldn’t help but be. The man had made comments which made you turn bright red with blush before. Whether it be totally alone and loudly spoken, or whispered into your ear to tease you while out.

Today was the former. You’d been sitting at the bed, trying to keep yourself entertained while he finished some late night work at his bedroom desk. He’d promised to reward you if you waited patiently for him.

He was about halfway through his work when he’d gotten an idea.

“y/n?” Law called to you, not turning away from his work.

“Yeah?” You answered, looking up, hopeful he’d announce that he was done.

“You’ve been good. I’m not quite done yet, but I want to reward you anyway.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He slowly stood up from his chair, grabbing kikoku from where it leaned against his desk, and approached you.

“I’ll allow you have some fun while you wait, okay?”

He hovered over you, and you simply stared at him in confusion. “Do you mean-“

“I’ll let you play with yourself,” he continued.

“But, Law… it’s just not the same-“ you tried protesting.

“It will be the same though,” he said. “My ability shouldn’t be used for shit like this, but…”

“Law!” You gasped. “Are you serious… you’re gonna chop your dick off?!”

He rolled his eyes. “You act like I’m actually cutting it. I can stick it back on, dumbass.”

You averted your eyes, “I know, but…”

But your focus was brought back on him as he grabbed your hips, lifting you up just enough he could hook his fingers around your panties and slide them down your legs. Before you could even process his first action, he was sliding his fingers along your folds, brushing against your clit in hopes to slicken you up.

“Law!”

“Shh. I’m just helping you,” he teased.

You let out a soft whine, throwing your head back as he began rubbing his thumb against your soft bud of nerves.

But then he pulled away, which caused you to whine in annoyance.

“Stop whining,” he snapped. “I can’t touch you and get it at the same time.”

So you waited, looking up at him in anticipation. He pulled the katana out of its sheath, setting the sheath on the ground next to the bed. With his free hand, you watched as he unbuckled his jeans and slid them down just enough that his cock was fully out.

“Room.”

The blue orb enveloped the area around him, and you weren’t quite sure if you were staring in horror or being turned on even more as he swung the katana in a downward motion, his entire length then falling into his left hand.

He held it out to you. But you continued staring at him. Definitely in horror. This was fucking weird.

“Are you gonna take it or not?” He asked, slightly annoyed.

You simply closed your mouth and took it from him, literally holding his cock in your bare lap, looking down at it. You could not believe this was real.

“I’m going to keep working. Do what you want as long as it’s not something weird.” He told you, pulling his jeans back up.

“Law, me just holding it detached from you is fucking weird.”

The man rolled his eyes once again before heading back to his desk, sitting down and resuming his work like nothing had even happened. Like you weren’t holding his cock in your hands. The way it twitched was just… so strange.

Well, you weren’t just gonna sit there and keep looking. So you got up onto your knees and crawled to lay on your back, against the pillows. You spread your legs open, brushing it over your cunt.

It was embarrassing how evident it was that you were turned on from the way your juices stuck to his cock in wet strings. He was going to tease you about this forever.

But at the same time, of fucking course nobody but the surgeon of death’s girlfriend would find this hot. It was right up his alley of a fucked up joke.

Pulling it away from your lower body, you brought it up to your lips, giving his tip a small kiss. It twitched, again.

It seemed like Law was fine with this, the way he just kept on working… so you pressed your tongue on the tip, licking up before wrapping your lips around him.

You could’ve sworn you heard him hiss.

You continued working it with your mouth, trying to get his cock wet enough with your spit that you could fuck yourself with it.

As you continued holding it with one hand, you moved your other one down to touch yourself. You were practically dripping now. You rubbed small circles into your clit, letting out a couple soft moans around his cock.

“Shit, y/n-ya-“

Law’s voice startled you. You looked over to see him with one hand on his thigh, fingers digging into the skin underneath his jeans. His other hand was laid against the desk in a tight fist. How was he supposed to get work done? Had he even thought this through fully?

Feeling satisfied with the wetness of both parts, you pulled his cock out of your mouth and rubbed it against your folds, your spit combining with your wet cunt’s juices to create a sort-of lubricant.

You moved the tip to be lined up with your throbbing hole, gently pushing it inside. He was hardly an inch inside of you, but you couldn’t help but let out a moan, your cunt clamping down on him as you continued to slide the rest of his length inside yourself.

“F-fuck, Law, you’re so… big, mmm.”

Your eyes were closed tight, so you couldn’t look over to see his reaction. But you could hear him hiss as you slid his cock in, and now you heard him letting out shuddered, shaky breaths.

You started moving his cock in and out, slowly increasing the speed of which you fucked yourself with it.

As your hand began moving faster, you started moaning louder, but then you found his member was becoming even more wet, your fingers slipping as you tried to keep up the fast pace.

Before you could even realize it was happening, your fingers slipped away and off his cock as you pushed it inside, and you opened your eyes to stare down in horror. Had you… gotten his cock stuck inside yourself?

“Law…”

“Wh-what?” He groaned.

“I… it’s stuck.”

“Stuck?” He questioned, voice dark. Were you playing some stupid prank on him? “Really now, y/n. That’s some bullshit, keep moving.”

“N-no. Law, I’m serious… it got too wet and my fingers slipped-“

Frustrated, he spun his chair around to see it was in fact no longer in your hands. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Law moved his hand up.

“Room.”

The blue orb was now surrounding you and him. Was he gonna switch something out with it?! Then you’d just have another object stuck-

You watched as he pulled his index and middle finger back, which pulled his member out without him even touching it.

Then he motioned forward, and it slammed back inside of you. You let out a scream, throwing your head back into the pillows.

He continued doing this, thrusting his cock in and out of you with just a flick of his fingers. He sped his motions up, in turn moving his cock into you at a faster speed, a speed that quickly turned inhumanly possible.

You cried out loudly as his cock relentlessly slamming in and out, your cunt aching as you instantly came, but he didn’t stop. He was going to do this until he came, probably.

Your moans turned into screams of pleasure as he continued. His hand that wasn’t controlling his member was gripping at his thigh, your screams drowning out his groans.

“Law, fuck! I, I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” He growled, too engrossed in his own pleasure to really care about overstimulating you.

“Baby, it’s too much! I, I’m-“

You let out probably the loudest moan you’d ever managed to make as you promptly began squirting, juices rushing out of your cunt and spilling onto the bed sheets underneath you.

Your cries of it being too much turned into messy babbling and loud moans as he continued thrusting in and out of you at a relentless, borderline painful pace. However, the pleasure you felt as you continued cumming outweighed the slight pain immensely.

“Shit, y/n. You’re being so good, I, fuck- can’t believe you’re squirting from this, huh? You’re ruining our bedsheets, cause you’re so turned on-“ he let out a loud hiss,” “from using me as your toy, hm? You’re such a dirty slut.”

“Law!” You screamed his name again, begging for him to stop at this point.

As soon as you did so, your boyfriend let out a moan, which was rare for him, and came inside you. His hot cum kept spilling into you, and you noticed his cock wasn’t moving at all anymore. It was simply sheathed inside you.

You opened your eyes to see Law on his knees, shaking and eyes dark as he calmed down.

“Shit. That was… more intense that I had thought it would be,” he mumbled, trying to regain his composure.

But you were exhausted, and simply let yourself fully fall back into the bed, closing your eyes and trying to steady out your breathing.

You felt his cock being slid out of your cunt, and heard the sound of his jeans unbuckling. He must’ve been reattaching himself.

When you opened your eyes, Law was at your side, leaning against the bed. He was staring at the mess between your legs.

You looked down to see a large stain between your legs, probably from you squirting. Right beneath the opening to your cunt was Law’s cum, spilling out from you. From what you could tell, he’d come a lot.

“Didn’t… know you… thought squirting was so… hot,” you said, out of breath from his intense fucking.

“Neither did I,” Law responded. “And now we have to change out the fucking sheets.”

You breathlessly giggled.

You felt Law lifting you up, sliding your panties back on for you. He carried you over to his desk chair, so you could rest at least a little while he changed the bed sheets.

When he was done, he’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and brought you back to the bed, laying down with you.

“Can’t believe you got my damn cock stuck inside of you.”

“Sh-shut up… it was slippery.”

“Whatever. At least now I know I can keep you filled up without having to physically keep myself inside.”

Your eyes went wide at his suggestion. Yet another one of his crude comments that left you blushing.

#jadedrrose lawctober event #law x reader #law x reader smut

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nobody-nexus · 6 months

Text

Y'all I got a TADC oc named Clef

(Hands you him)

If one word could describe Clef, it would be: Theater. He's extremely loud, boisterous, cartoonishly flamboyant, and will make constant Broadway and musical theater references. They love to put on a show and even sometimes up show others just to show them that he's the best of the best in terms of playing a role in the digital circus. Of course, this personality is most likely from their time before, however the constant references seem to be the only way to comfort them with the fact that they only VAGUELY know where the mentions even come from. He's a very empathetic person as well, able to read people's emotions well and relate to them in a sense

In his non-digital life, they were once a Broadway star. He adored the stage, making musical after musical from side character to the main character. Have you heard of it? They’ve played in it. He was also incredibly open to being themselves, and hoping others would do the same. But in all actuality, he was merely someone who their mother was projecting over. Their mother relished in the fame that her child gave her, but once that was the case and everyone found out, that stardom dropped like a brick. He was quickly forgotten due to more prominent and “relevant” stars, no one willing to give their mother fame- and as a result HE was left in the dust, giving them a bit of an imposter syndrome. Now only doing occasional side gigs, he ended up finding this link on an old hard drive. They wished for ANYTHING to make himself feel better, so with a borrowed VR headset- they went into the world…. A world they’d never awake from

Clef in terms of design was based off of a Dragon City dragon called the Wonderland Dragon

In terms of age, Clef is 34 years old (I do not ship them with anyone in the TADC cast) and he is 5'11''

He's a very expressive character as well! The yellow around their eyes changing color and his eyes changing shape to further express how they feel Examples:

Although I don't have art for it, his main ability is being able to pull a horn out of their stomach mouth and play it with ease- the horn itself being able to sound like just about anything

And of course what's a TADC OC post without ONE OF THESE CHARTS

More detailed relationships are as follows:

Pomni: Although sometimes doesn't enjoy how bombastic he is, at the same time they're one of the more 'I guess you're okay' people, but I promise they bond with one another eventually

Caine: Doesn't like having the attention on someone else when it comes to performances, so sometimes Caine does get on their nerves, however overall he's FINE around the ringmaster

Gangle: Father daughter dynamic. Almost instantly Clef practically adopted Gangle due to her love for the arts as well. Although he can't save her from Jax's bullshit, he tries to protect her nonetheless

Jax: Absolute hatred. Not even because of his dynamic with Gangle either, they just HATE "hecklers" and considers Jax as one. Jax's nickname for him is 'maestro' and they really don't like it

Kinger: Literally no thoughts on him. Clef's hardly interacted with the chess piece due to how uncomfortable they find themselves around him. Nothing AGAINST Kinger, Clef just... really doesn't like his eyes

Ragatha: If him and Gangle for the father and daughter dynamic, them and Ragatha are team mom and team dad. They probably get along due to how close in age they are, as well as their people pleaser attitudes

Zooble: He finds them very nice, but Zooble is REALLY annoyed with how Clef speaks and therefore having to deal with them a lot is a bit of a pain in the eyes of the mismatched individual

===

Also made some concepts of what Clef would be like in some of my favorite AUs! (Carnival AU by @sm-baby and Corrupted AU by @rabid-mercenary15)

If you wanna see more with them, I'll be happy to share more stuff ^^

#the amazing digital circus #amazing digital circus #the digital circus #digital circus #tadc #oc #original character #tadc oc #digital circus oc #tadc original character #au #au stuff #digital art

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phantoms-lair · 4 months

Text

Ranma's Precious Student finally has a problem he can punch!

Continuation of this

"This is for my kid!"

The yell was the only warning before pro-hero Slidin' Go was launched into the side of a building. The one who'd done the launching was a woman who looked right on the edge between middle aged and elderly, lines in her face and more gray than red in her hair. She'd seem almost harmless if she wasn't still lowering her leg from when she'd sent him flying with one kick.

Slidin' Go lifted himself out of the rubble, looking extremely confused as he pulled himself out. "Halt Villain." He said somewhat reflexively.

The woman snorted. "I'm less a villain than you are a hero - and that's saying something. What kind of hero tells a kid he deserves to be abused?"

Whispers began from the onlookers.

"I have said no such thing!" Slidin' Go protested.

"You didn't tell a small quirkless kid that he shouldn't make trouble by reporting the bully who was burning him because then the bully wouldn't become a hero and therefore it would be the victim's fault if he couldn't save people in the future? You know completely ignoring that someone who burns those weaker than him to 'show them their place' was ever going to be saving anyone."

Oh Fuck. Okay so he did say that. Time to deflect. "It was a quirkless kid. He was probably lying for attention." Everyone knew how worthless those without meta abilities were. Surely they would-

"Oh he was lying about the burns on his arms, on his clothes, the burns in the shapes of hands?" The old woman was having none of it and faster than he could even see closed the distance between them and lifted her knee with as much force as possible. More than enough to shatter the cup Slidin' Go wore for protection from just such an attack. He didn't even have the chance to fall to the ground again as the woman bent over, grabbed his ankles and threw him. There was a loud ripping sound as the lower half of his costume stayed in her hands and he went flying, landing face down with his underwear on display for all to see.

"This is a warning. If I EVER hear anything about you ignoring a child in danger again, so help me you will wish it was All Might showing up to hand you your ass because his punches will feel like butterfly kisses next to mine!" The woman turned on a dime and stomped away from the battered form of the once-popular hero.

"You could have killed him." A voice said from an alleyway Ranma passed by.

"Easily." Ranma snorted.

"And yet you didn't."

"Would have been counter productive."

"Taking fake scum like that off the streets would have been counterproductive?" The man in the blank-faced mask tilted his head.

"You're young." Ranma answered "Death creates sympathy. Even with the person was a shithead, you'll get at least a handful of people saying he deserved consequences, but not that." If people were willing to to put aside Happosai's crimes at his death, they'd forgive anything. "Then sympathy for the man becomes sympathy for his ideals. And before you know it, he's become a martyr, a rallying symbol for those with like ideologies. Martyrs are dangerous. Laughingstocks - " She gestured in the rough direction of a semiconscious pro in his underwear. "significantly less so. No one wants to be associated with a laughingstock."

"Interesting." the man scurried up the alley wall and to the roof. Ranma shrugged. Not his circus, not his monkeys.

Random woman beats the daylight out of Pro-Hero Slindin' Go. Police are looking for any information available. The woman has red and grey hair and presumable a physical enhancement quirk.

Pro-Hero Slidin' Go suspended pending investigation of Dereliction of Duty and Discrimanation

Tokoname Tatsuyuki, formerly the Hero known as Slidin' Go was arrested today for ties to a terrorist organization. Details uncovered during the investigation into discrimination charges reveal a shocking secret.

Derternet CEO Yotsubashi Rikiya Unmasked as Leader of New Meta Liberation Front

"Wow," Izuku whispered, scrolling through the headlines on his phone. "You stopped a whole evil organization."

"I'm going to be honest, I did not know about any of that. I just beat the shit out of him because of how he treated you." Ranma was looking at the other news reports and winced. "I don't mind being a meme, but I wish it wasn't 'Battle Granny'. I'm a Battle Grampa!"

"Shouldn't have done the fight in your other form then." Izuku teased.

Ranma flicked his forehead. I wasn't planning on it. I got hit with cold water right as I found the jerk and wasn't going to let him out of my sight just to change back. Trust me, you'll learn how unavoidable cold water is soon enough." Ranma cracked his knuckles. "But now it's time for training. Katas on the balance beam, ten reps birth form, ten reps cursed form, GO!"

Izuku laughed as he put his phone down and ran for the practice mats. All Might was still his favorite pro. But Ranma-Sensei would forever be his hero.

#Ranma 1/2 #BnHA #Yeah Ranma just wanted to punch Slidin' Go and was mildly surprised the unintended consequences were a positive #Aside from being known as Battle Granny #Will this chance encounter turn Stendahl from his path as the Hero Killer into the Hero Embarasser?#Time Will Tell #Ghost Writing

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frankie-mercury · 1 year

Text

Sound of Silence

Hey! It’s been a while since I wrote….anything. TLOU has been in the front of my brain and I am OBSESSED with Joel Miller - and Pedro’s portrayal of him (I’m just a slut for Pedro Pascal is all). It’s embarrassing how many times this scenario and variations of it put me to sleep (we call that mental illness). I unfortunately haven’t played the games (Yet! Working on it though) so I’m going off the movie and what I know of the games (which isn’t much). Definitely a bit OOC for Joel. I’ll be writing more of these two (some before this, and some after) but I wanted to get the gist of their relationship out into the world. I cranked this out in a day so I apologize for any spelling mistakes. Enjoy!

Please let me know what you think - my asks are open but I can’t figure out to get the button to show up in the app (24 is old okay? I’m an A03 girlie) and as usual 18+ ONLY.

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: slight violence and gore, implied attempted assault, implied sex, yelling, swearing, blood - if I missed anything I apologize!

You still remembered the before, before the world had ended, before everything went to shit. The outbreak had hardened you, thickened the high walls you had builty your whole life, reiterating your distrust for other people and sometimes yourself. The following years had led you all across the country, from safe house to safe house, travelling the road by day, sleeping in trees and ditches by night. And then you found Jackson. And in the beginning, you hated it. Hated having to interact with people, hated having to socialize, and hated the thought that you could finally relax. You never thought you’d have the ability to relax ever again. Jackson had been your home for 8 months before Joel and Ellie came to Jackson and barrelled through every wall and trap you had set up around yourself.

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

You woke to the smell of coffee, and the sound of music from downstairs. Joel’s side of your bed had long since run cold, he had been up for a while. Getting up slowly you stretched slowly, sighing at the soft ache you felt in your bones. Pulling on Joel’s shirt from the night before over a tiny pair of shorts you joined the two downstairs, rubbing your eyes before trying to tame your curls before Ellie saw you, and unfortunately failing.

“Good morning Einstein” Ellie laughed.

“Do you even know who Einstein is?” You asked, voice groggy with sleep as you wrapped your arms around Joel, settling into the warmth of his back. Standing on your toes you kissed the back of his neck, fingers trailing along his clothed chest before pouring yourself a cup of coffee, and sitting down across from her.

“I did go to school you know,” Ellie said, head tilting towards you.

“Shitty school-” you began “I’m sure they didn’t teach about mathmaticians.” You said with a soft smile. Ellie made small talk with you as Joel set out plates for all of you, sitting next to you, pressing his lips to your temple.

“How long before we need to leave?” You asked softly.

“About an hour,” Joel said.

“We’re going out again?” Ellie asked, speaking with food in her mouth.

“Gross,” you laughed, “But yes, me and your dad are going on a run today.”

“Can I go to?” Joel almost jumped to say no, looking to you.

“I don’t see why not?” You said quietly. “She needs to learn howt o protect herself out there.” Joel sighed, the desire to protect Ellie sitting hard on his brows.

“You will do as I say. One slip up and never again.” He said firmly, looking to Ellie to make sure she understood.

You wished he had said no.

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

Thinking about how nice this morning had been made your eyes burn with unshed tears. It had been an ambush, You and Ellie had been separated from Joel, you were outnumbered, and out powered. Your wrists burned from the rope that kept your hands tied to the back of the wooden chair you sat on. Your body ached from the beating you had taken for Ellie, your head throbbing. You didn’t know how long it had been since they first attacked, it had felt like hours now. It was hard to hold your head up, whether it was the blood loss or the pain, you wanted to close your eyes - just rest them for a bit - just for a few min-

“Y/n!” You jumped slightly at Ellie’s shout, head turning slowly to look at her where she sat, hands tied to a pipe just out of reach from you. She had been crying. But she was safe, and unharmed. Your captors were sadistic and were more than happy to beat you instead of her as she cried and screamed.

“You’re okay beanie,” you said faintly, trying to offer her a smile.

“You’re hurt, real bad.” she said softly, bottom lip trembling. You knew she was right, you had to have atleast two broken ribs, possibly a finger or two. You had lost blood from several knife wounds, but the gunshot wound on your shoulder throbbed the most, the warm and thankfully slow trickle of blood painting your front a sticky shade of red.

“I’ll be okay,” you offered, wincing as you tried to shrug.

“I don’t know where Joel is,” she breathed. “Good news is those bastards suck at tying knots.” she added, pulling her hands from the ropes that bound her. She moved to untie you, and you shook your head.

“Find Joel beanie,” you began “and go home,”

“No, I can’t leave you,” she said hands shaking as she untied you, trying to be gentle.

“I’m too heavy for you El.”

“Not for Joel.”

“Find Joel,” you said again, sighing as she removed the rope. “I don’t think I can walk,” you added tiredly, head falling back as you tried to keep your eyes open. She nodded quickly,

“Stay here,” she said quickly.

“Can’t go anywhere,” you said quietly, nose scrunching at the loud screech of the door opening. The silence that followed her absence made your heartrate jump, adrenaline spiking as if you knew what was coming next.

The door screeched open again, louder this time as if the door was opened with more force. Heavy boots closed in on you as a thick hand gripped your jaw, pulling a cry of pain from you as one of your attackers yanked your head forward.

“Where the fuck’d she go?” He growled, eyes wild as he glared.

“I - I don’t, don’t know,” you breathed, yelping as he threw you from your chair landing a harsh kick to your abdomen, body curling in on yourself to protect yout broken ribs.

“Don’t need ya’ alive bitch, he’s already told us what we want. But I need the girl.” He said lowly, voice scarily calm. “Where did she go.” You knew Joel wouldn’t speak a word about Jackson. Intellectually you knew he wouldn’t throw you to the dogs. But the insecure part of you considered the thought. Maybe he did. Maybe this was his out. Maybe - “Answer me!” He gripped your hair tightly, pulling you up to look at him. “I don’t wanna kill ya’, but I will,” he said, pulling a switchblade from his belt. “Could fuck ya’ and then kill ya’.” He throught quietly.

Unfortunately for him, fortunately for you he never did get to make that choice.

The gunshot echoed, sending pulsing pain through your head - and a splatter of blood across your face, ears ringing as his grip on your hair loosened, your hand reaching out to catch your fall. The loud ringing made you dizzy, eyelids fluttering from the discomfort. You felt hands on your shoulders, gasping at the seering pain from your still bleeding wound, Joel’s mouth moving above you but no sound reaching your ears. Ellie was crying, her eyes full of worry, full of love. For you. Then you were being lifted, Joel tucking your head into his neck, clutching your body to his chest.

“Stay with me darlin’, keep your eyes on me,” he breathed, dark eyes worried. The strength in your neck slackened as you lost consciousness, body falling limp against his strong chest.

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

2 years ago

It took 8 months for your house in Jackson to feel like home since stumbling along the community. Another 2 months before you unwound enough to build relationships, build shallow friendships. You were still guarded, Tommy and Maria being the on;y teo who could catch a blurry glimpse of who you were. Tommy had introduced Joel and Ellie to you first, he thought you and Joel were similar enough to have a civil partnership. Both of you knew your way around most if not all weapons, and there was no worrt that either of you couldn’t make it on your own. The one thing to two fo you lacked was emotional vulnerability.

“You can’t just pack up and leave whenever without tellin’ anyone.” Joel grumbled from behind you, following you as you stormed back to your house. You had gone on a run, and things had gotten out of hand. You ran into smugglers from other communities, they had tried - what mattered was that they didn’t. Killing people never got easier, even out of self defense. Joel knew something was wrong when you had returned, bloodied and silent, the slight tremble to your hands worrying him more than he wanted to admit.

“I’m fine,” you breathed, “I can take care of myself Joel.”

“Never said you couldn’t. But going out alone isnt safe!” You didn’t appreciate the raise in his voice. You knew he was right, but you were tired, shaken and you wanted nothing but to curl into Joel’s strong chest. He made you feel safe and you hated that, you hated that you wanted to let him in. So you did what you do best, tried to push him away.

“Stop yelling at me like I’m a fucking child!” You growled, turning around quickly and catching Joel by surprise, althoug he tried not to show it. “I’m fucking fine Joel and I don’t need you breathing down my goddamn neck.” You walked away slowly, not turning your back to him as you walked up your porch. He sighed, a hand resting on his hip as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not as stupid as you think I am sweetheart,” he sighed. “The y/n I’m looking at right now is anything but fine.” The fact that he could read you so well made you more angry, it made you want to scream at him to leave you alone. You didn’t need someone. Relying on someone got you killed. He approached you like you would approach a cornered animal, slowly with his hands where you could see them. His hands came to your shoulders, gripping them tightly. “Did they touch you?” He asked lowly, anger lining his words.

“They tried,” you breathed, voice thick with emotion, eyes shining with unshed tears as you looked up at him. “I killed them all,” you added, body tense as he pulled you into his chest, allowing you to take a deep breath of Joel, a mixture of alcohol, nature and something that was distinclty him and you loved it. Slowly and carefully he walked you into your home, leading you to your couch in front of the fireplace you loved. He had been in your house enough times that he knew his way around your kitchen comfortably. The noise of Joel making…something calmed you as you pulled your knees to your chest, as you stared at the wall. You brain was replaying the events that led to you killing 3 men. Replayed what their hands felt like holding you down, leaving prints of dirt and grime on your body. Replaying what it felt like when you snapped, the feeling of bones breaking under your hands, thick blood covering your hands as you quite literally stabbed through their chest after having…strangled a man through your adrenaline. You felt sick, you needed to get out of these clothes, right now. You felt dirty, nauseous. You moved quickly enough to make it to your bathroom where you threw up the rest of what you had eaten hours ago, hands pulling your hair from your face as you tried to push Joel away.

“Let it out darlin’, you’re okay.” Joel spoke softly, a hand rubbing your back as you dry heaved, the acid burning your eyes.

“Go away,” you coughed, wiping your mouth as your hands shook to flush the toilet.

“You can’t be alone right now,” he said firmly, leaving no room for debate.

“Because you know best?” You asked, voice gravelly.

“You were almost assaulted.” Joel said. “I know you think you don’t want me here. But you’ll thank me later. When you’re ready, you need to eat.” You knew he was right, his words pulling more tears from your eyes. Letting out a harsh breath you hugged yourself tightly. You could either accept his help, or turn him away.

“Joel,” you choked out, “I don’t know how to do this,” you cried, knees weakening as you let yourself cry. You leaned into Joel’s body, crying into his shirt as he walked the two of you to your bed.

“I don’t either sweetheart,” he breathed. “But I can’t let you cut yourself off from me, from everyone. I would know,” he said with a harsh chuckle.

“Thank you,” you sighed, taking in deeper breaths as your tears slowed. “For not leaving.”

“A couple angry words aren’t gonna push me away.” Joel added, hands rubbing your back slowly. “You should get cleaned up,” he said quietly. “Then we’ll eat, and then we’ll talk.” That night had been the first time you had slept with Joel. He was soft and gentle with you, the two of you being as vulnerable as you could.

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

1 and a half years ago

For 6 months Joel and you had been in a relationship, a public relationship. But neither of you had had the privilege of having a relationship in years. And neither of you knew how to act. The sex was great, Joel was a giver and you would willingly take as much as he gave. The emotions, and having a public relationship with…expectations was the hard part. It’s not that you and Joel didn’t want to be affectionate with eachother in public. In fact it was the opposite. When you got your hands on eachother you couldn’t seem to stop. The both of you were insatiable. But it didn’t feel right, having something so…good. It didn’t feel right to flaunt it. It felt weird to ask for Joel to touch you in public. The sex was easy, the talking, was not. And the talking, or not talking found the both of you in easily avoidable predicaments.

Being with Joel had made socializing easier. Neither of you thoroughly enjoyed being around so many people, there was always a risk - even with people on patrol. It was hard to relax. But Tommy had begged the two of you to celebrate his anniversary with Maria. The two had been married for two years. It was a milestone to be celebrated and you couldn’t say no. Joel, though he grumbled, put on a clean shirt and the jeans that made his ass look delecatble. Your words, not his. The two of you kept eyes on eachother, but did try and socialize separately. You were babysitting a drink, you didn’t like not having your wits about you, lingering on the outskirts of the celebration, taking time to breath and appease your paranoia, eyes searching for all available exits.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?” The simple phrase made you cringe in disgust.

“Taking a moment to be alone.” you said firmly, not even glancing to the side.

“Alone? This is a party, you should be having fun.”

“I was before you so rudely interrupted it.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be nice, no need to be a bitch.” You turned to see the man that wouldn’t leave you alone as one of his hands gripped your wrist. He was a new member, a little younger than you, probably around 27. Much younger than Joel - you preferred your men older though.

“I’d let go if you want to keep your hand intact.” You growled, eyes hard as you glated at him.

“I like ‘em a little feisty any-” he began to speak, statement interrupted as you threw the rest of your drink on him as a distraction before gripping his arm with your other hand, slamming his wrist against the wall behind you, effectively breaking it. “You broke my wrist?!”

“You fucked around, and you found out.” You breathed. “You’re lucky it was me and not Joel,” you added lowly, “He wouldn’t have been as kind - he might not have let you live.” You turned to leave, running into the chest of the man you spoke of, an arm wrapping around your waist almost possesively. Joel knew you could handle yourself, but he didn’t want you to.

“Hey man, I - I didn’t know she was -”

“Even if she wasn’t I know for a fact she told you to let her go. When a woman says no you respect it. And she’s right, I wouldn’t have let you live.” He added, lifting your fingers to his lips in a show of affection. “Get out of my sight before I change my mind,” He added, pulling you into his chest. “You okay?” you nodded, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t have minded seeing you beat the shit out of him Tex,” you said with a shrug.

“That’s what gets you hot and bothered?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Yes actually. My sexy cowboy.”

“I know you can handle yourself, you’re a fighter sweetheart. That’s why I like you,” he said softly, pulling your chest flush against his.

“It’s not my pretty face?”

“Oh that’s definitely some of it to sweets,” he said with a small smile, a hand moving down to, playfully slap your ass. “Love watching you work,” he said, “just love watching you.” The two of you seemed to be enveloped with eachother, sharing sweet nothings with eachother.

“Okay love birds, this party is for us, celebrate us.” Tommy said with a chuckle, Joel rolling his eyes.

“I’ll get you another drink darlin’” He said quietly, kissingyou gently. Tommy watched as Joel left, looking back to you.

“You’re good for him. I haven’t seem him this happy in…years.” Tommy said. “You look good too, it’s nice to see the two of you happy.”

“Thanks Tommy, right back at you. Maria’s a good fit for you.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled softly. “That’s my cue,” he said as Joel returned to your side, handing you your preferred drink. “She’s a keeper Joel,” he said quietly. “Treat her right.”

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

Current Day

You regained consciousness to the sounds of yelling. Specifically Joel’s yelling.

“You fucking knew?! Tommy I almost lost her! You didn’t see what I saw, and youre telling me you knew?!” You heard the sounds of what seemed like glass breaking, a few more exchanges of words before the front door slammed. Licking your dry lips you tried to sit up, whimpering in pain.

“Don’t sit up,” Ellie said softly, laying a hand on your chest. “Wait,” was all she said before leaving the room quickly. You stared up at the ceiling, taking a moment to feel. You were in pain. Everything hurt. Your shoulder throbbed, the wound bandaged, probably by Joel. Your ribs hurt, everytime you breathed you felt the ache. You moved your fingers and toes, taking a deep breath with a wince. You were alive and able, albeit injured, but alive.

“Baby?” Joel looked at you from the door of your room as if he was scared your disappear, as if his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Tex,” you sighed, coughing at the dryness in your throat.

“Oh honey,” he sighed, coming to his knees next to your bed, fingers brushing alone your temple. “Let me help you sit up,” he said softly, arms wrapping around you as you groaned in pain. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said as Ellie fixed the pillows behind you. “Have some water,” he said, lifting a cup to your lips, slowly giving you the drink, only to pull it away as you moved for more. “Slow y/n, don’t wanna be sick, not with your ribs.” He said softly, offering you a little more.

“How long?” You breathed, reaching out a hand for Joel’s how held your hadn with both of his.

“Four days.” Ellie said.

“Four days, I thought you were dead swetheart. They - they almost killed you,” he said, forehead resting against your hands. “I thought I lost you.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” you said, attempting to offer a smile.

“Ellie told me what you did,” he said quietly. “How you asked them - begged them to hurt you,” he said, his words almost angry.

“I’d do it again,” you said looking at him. “I did it to protect her.”

“Y/n, you can’t -”

“She’s important, you need her. She’s important for the survival of humanity. She’s the key to a cu-”

“There is no cure.” Ellie interupted. “They lied.” You looked to Joel for confirmation and he nodded.

“Tommy told us, said they only said she was the key to give hope, to keep people from leaving the fireflies. If they had a goal they’d work themselves to death. The ambush was from firefly protestors. And he - Tommy knew it was a possibility.” Joel shook his head. “He knew it was a possibility and he let us go anyway.” Ellie looked at her hands as Joel spoke, wiping a tear from her eyes.

“It’s my fault,” she said softly. “I’m the reason you almost died.”

“No baby,” you said softly, shaking your head. “It’s not your fault. I did it to protect you, and I’d do it again. Nothing that happened had anything to do with you beanie.”

“Ellie, give us a moment okay?” She nodded silently before leaving. Joel took a breath as he moved to sit on the edge of your bed. “I’m not always good with words,” he said softly. “But carrying you here, limp against me, you had lost so much blood. I was certain you were going to die before I even got the chance to tell you that I-” He took a moment to compose himself, eyes shutting before looking to you. “That I love you,” he said softly. “I haven’t had someone I’ve cared for this much in a long time, and I almost lost you.”

“Joel-”

“No sweetheart, I was…scared. You wouldn’t stop bleeding, I thought you were gonna die in my arms. And then when you didn’t wake up for four days? I almost lost hope.” Joel said quietly.

“But I’m here Joel. I didn’t die, and I’m here.” You said softly, swallowing before clearing your throat. “I love you Joel. Have for a while now. But I couldn’t let them touch Ellie, they were sick men Joel. I couldn’t let her go through that, not like I did,” you said.

“I should’ve been there to protect you. That’s my job sweetheart. I’m your protector and I failed.”

“Did you?” You asked, waiting for him to look at you. “I’m here aren’t I?”

“But-”

“I’m here. I’m alive, because you brought me back here and patched me up. You can’t keep me from harm Joel. Ellie too. We’re gonna get hurt. You’re gonna get hurt, but I’m alive. You couldn’t have predicted we’d get ambushed. Even if Tommy had an inkling of a thought, no one could’ve known for certain.”

He wanted to argue with you. He wanted you to be upset with him. He didn’t want this softness, this understanding. He had almost lost you and he felt he could’ve changed the outcome. You sighed, knowing nothing you said would change his mind in this state.

“I could go for some food,” you said quietly. “And to use the bathroom,” you added. Giving him something to do would ease his mind. He needs to be needed.

Joel helped you use the restroom, changed your outfit, and helped you to the front porch at your request, feeding you soup Ellie had made.

“I can feed myself,” you said stubbornly.

“I know but, I need this darlin’” was all he said. Ellie sat at your feet, leaning against your knee, one of hands mindlessly fingering through her hair. You saw Maria approaching as Joel fed you, offering her another attempted smile.

“I’m glad to see you’re up,” she said. “Tommy feels terrible - if you need anything, you let me know. Any of you. You’re his family too. He may be stupid but he cares more than you know.”

“Thank you,” was all you offered, giving her a nod as she left. “We make a nice family don’t we,” you said quietly, Ellie looking up at the two of you from her spot on the ground.

“Yeah my mom’s pretty cool. Jury’s still out on my dad,” Her statement pulled a watery laugh from Joel as he shook his head.

“Get her a water will ya?” Ellie nodded, jumping at the chance to be helpful. When she left Joel pressed his lips to the back of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m gonna marry ya’ some day.” He said plainly.

“Awfully presumptuous of you that I’ll say yes.” You joked, even thought your eyes were lined with tears.

“Oh I’m not worried about that. You’ve been with me this long, haven’t scared you away yet.” The both of you smiled at eachother, content with the silence between the two of you as you both sat on the porch, minds racing with thoughts and emotions. The two of you would need to talk, discuss what you wanted for your future after this. But not right now, right now you just needed eachother’s presence, the reminder that your both alive and here.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #ellie williams x mom reader #joel miller #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller fanfiction #ellie williams #pedro pascal

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astelren · 2 years

Text

Dr Stone Jealousy HCs

ೃ⁀➷ TW/CW: Fluff, Jealousy (D'uh), Honestly nothing much, Gender Neutral Reader (one use of they/them pronouns), let me know if I need to add more TW/Tags ♡ Minors please interact with me only by liking or reblogs. ➳ Characters: Ryusui Nanami

⤠ None ⤟ Dr Stone Masterlist (soon!) ⤠ None ⤟

Anon request: Hello there~ can i request a jealous ryuusui hcs uwu the world needs more ryuusui content~ thankyouu OwO

Is the dr stone fandom still alive? Hello? Anybody there? I miss talking about Ryusui and Stanley honestly... - This is a rewriting of my old work, originally posted on @/severnliliuch.

You thought that Ryusui, a man with everything, never gets jealous? You are so, so wrong. His jealousy is more because of lack of attention though, since he is pretty secure in himself and your relationship.

What do you expect from the greediest man in the stone world? Once Ryusui gets a little bit of your attention, he wants all of it. And he doesn’t really like to share with others

But this is the stone world, there's a lot of stuff to do, so you don't give him the attention he wants and craves. If this were the modern world, Ryusui would have simply stolen your attention by either something you like, coming to you with a massive smirk on his face ready to show off his ability, or taking you out on a date

However, he can’t do it in the stone world, even if he has you working for him. Ryusui would pout seeing you talking with others, even if it’s Yuzuihira, and he is going to interrupt your conversation or simply hug you from behind

Ryusui it’s also more prone to get jealous if you are spending too much time with his brother, even if he is glad that you two are on good terms! But spending too much time with Sai and Ryusui is pouting so hard. And would constantly try to interfere with your conversation, much to his brother's dismay and terror

Like I said before it’s when you are doing it too much without him, Ryusui does understand that you two can’t be together all the time, you have stuff to do and sometimes it’s nice to be alone. But constantly, or often, ditching your time with him to be with someone else makes him jealous.

His jealousy also makes him show off, even more, just to get your attention or, even better, your compliments. Ryusui will lavish on your compliments like a beautiful calm sea, and it’s a good way to make him less jealous and calm

Another tactic is: demanding you rest. There is a lot of stuff to do, sure, but you wouldn’t want to overdo it would you? Better relax a little bit, Francis is already ready with your favorite food and drink. Ryusui would assure you that it’s okay, no one would bat an eye if they saw you two relaxing

Also… Please imagine Gen using this situation to get more money for ryusui ajsbjs “Oh, but you know! We need their service for the greater world, we don’t want to fall back from sched-“ and ryusui just throws money at him AHHAHA

I also think that, at first, he won’t understand that he is jealous. Ryusui will need either you, or Francois, to actually say it to understand what he is feeling, but then he won’t hide it or be embarrassed at all

"Yeah, I’m jealous. I want to have all your attention, and being the only one in your eyes cutie, you should know by know how greedy I am right?” Ryusui will say it with a huge smirk on his face

You can defiantly tease him about it though, he’ll let you. Smirking and teasing you back probably, holding you by the hips as he so carefully watches you and pulls you for a kiss

As per the “classic” situation of jealousy, Ryusui will simply watch from afar when someone tries to flirt with you. Stone world or modern world everyone would know that you are with him, and like I said before, he trusts you deeply, so unless the person is clearly disrespecting you, or you simply need help, he won’t interfere.

Why go with someone else when he can give you everything you wish for in the world? His endless love, money, status, attention, all you have to do is ask and Ryusui would give it to you no question asked.

You can’t even try to make him jealous on purpose, since Ryusui sees through it way too quickly. He won’t flirt with someone else to make you jealous but will tease you to no end, laughing and kissing all over your face while commenting on how cute you are.

Jealous Ryusui is so needy and clingy, not really leaving your side and wanting your attention all the time. A good way to make his jealousy go away is to cuddle with him before going to sleep, holding him closer to you.

This work belongs to @/astelren, do not repost, translate, copy, rewrite or share on tiktok without my permission. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged♡

#dr stone x reader #ryusui nanami x reader #dcst x reader #dcst ryusui x reader #dcst fluff #dcst ryusui nanami x reader #ryusui nanami fluff #dr stone ryusui x reader #dr stone ryusui nanami x reader #dcst ryusui fluff #dcst ryusui nanami fluff #how do i tag #dr stone fluff #dr stone x reader fluff #🌹 ── my.writing #🌹 ─ dcst.writing

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damn-stark · 1 year

Text

Part 7 The family reunion

Part 7 of The Lion and The Dragon

A/N- True Lannister colors show in this chapter ;)

Warning- Violence, blood, talks of pregnancy and birth, fluff, Aegon, forced marriage, swearing, suggested sexual content.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x fem!Lannister reader

Episode- 1x08

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*1 YEAR LATER*

“We have continued to enjoy improved custom duties since the settling of the stepstones,” Lyman Beesbury shares with the group. “And extent to which we exploit those is contingent on the harbor master’s receipts of which um, uh…”

You tune the old Lord out and begin to twist the ring Daeron gave you around your finger. You begin to space out and wish you could be out with Aemond doing anything else, or out with the baby; even if the baby does nothing much but cry to be with Aemond. At least it’d be far more entertaining than hearing this council.

“Thank you,” Alicent cuts off the old Lord, letting you focus back. “For that exhaustive accounting Lord Beesbury, I remind you—”

The door opens and Alicent pauses to focus on Ser Harrold walking in to give his announcement. “Your guests have arrived. Your Grace.”

You lower your gaze and listen to Lord Otto Hightower interject. “I trust they’ve been welcomed as befits their station.”

Even greeting Princess Rhaenyra and her family would’ve been more pleasant than serving wine in this dull meeting. No matter how informed you liked to be, none of what was discussed today was at all worth it.

“As you instructed, Lord Hand,” Ser Harrold says before he bows and walks out of the room, leaving the room with a bit more interest to be discussed.

“It was my understanding Lord Corlys wished for his grandson Lucerys to succeed him as Lord of the Tides.” Grand Maester Orwyle adds, piquing your interest since, well, everyone in this room knows why that should be a problem.

No one could actually say it, but you all knew the obvious reason.

“The boy has been raised most of his life away from Driftmark,” your uncle Tyland adds his opinion. “He can fly a dragon, yes, but can he command a fleet?”

Most likely not. As you’ve told Aemond and your uncle in one of your many gossip conversations, the Princess has babied her sons too much. They should be out learning rather than making things more suspicious by hiding them away like ladies.

“Ability does not alter claim,” Lord Beesbury says.

You sigh and share a quick look with your uncle before you grab the jug of wine and walk over to serve him as another Lord adds to the comment.

“The Seasnake has never formally named him as heir if it comes to that.”

You pull the jug away and walk back to your spot to continue listening more intently now.

“The crown must choose what is best for the realm,” the Lord Hand interjects.

“He is Laenor’s son,” Lord Beesbury argues. “What grounds could there be—”

“What indeed Lord Beesbury,” a Lord cuts the old man off. “What indeed.”

You glance at him and think about his insinuation and smirk to yourself.

“We shall hear Princess Rhaenyra’s petition along with those of the other claimants on the morrow,” Alicent adds to cut off the conversation that wouldn’t end well.

“But—”

Alicent begins to stand up and you straighten up to follow—“I do beg your pardon my lords, I must greet our guests,” she excuses herself, and as she walks out the Lords stand up, and you follow her, making sure to pat your uncle's shoulder.

He pats your hand on your way out, and you offer him a soft smile before pulling away and leaving the room. You want to say something off topic to Alicent but then Ser Erryk joins the Queen's side.

“A matter has arisen that requires your attention,” he shares.

“Whatever it is, Ser Arryk, it'll need to wait,” Alicent says, and you catch her mistake right away.

“I’m Erryk, your Grace,” the Knight corrects her.

“Of course. My apologies, Ser.”

“It’s about the Prince,” he quickly shares, making you slightly narrow your gaze. “There’s been a delicate situation in his apartments.”

Alicent finally comes to a stop, letting you all finally stop. She stays quiet and then glances over at you. “Y/N, you may take your leave. I need to figure this out.”

The plan was to greet the Princess and the Prince with her, but this new problem leaves no room to argue.

“You don’t wish for me to greet the Princess and her husband in your stead?” You ask.

Alicent shakes her head and sighs. “No, it’s quite alright, I’ll greet them after. Thank you.”

You offer her a smile before you head to your room now to change out of your dress and wear something more practical for training.

The moment you’re outside you see Aemond’s silver hair stand out first before anything else comes to view. He’s training with Ser Criston Cole, and a group of people watch them. When some of the women notice you they whisper to each other before parting away from the circle, leaving you a spot to watch as your husband deflects each swing with swiftness.

You hadn’t even noticed that Aemond had already seen you since the moment you walked out of the castle, so it’s a surprise when he calls you out as he has his back turned.

“Come to train, my love?”

You smile and watch as he turns away from Ser Criston to face you with a small smile.

You nod and wait for him to reach you. “Perhaps just one match. If it pleases you.”

Aemond smirks and leans down to steal a kiss from your lips before he caresses your jaw. “How was it?” He asks as he stays close.

You sigh dramatically. “Incredibly dull, Lord Beesbury has a way to lull you to sleep with his words. But, on more interesting news” you begin to smirk. “Your sister is here already.”

Aemond hums. “Is she? I forget about her in truth. I thought you were going to greet them with my mother.”

You nod. “I was but she went to deal with your brother first, so she let me go, and I came here.”

His smirk widens and he pulls away to walk with you to the racks. You immediately pick up a sword and a shield before facing him.

“I swear I’ll go easy,” you tease. “But I can’t promise I’ll let you win.”

Aemond snickers. “Wouldn’t wish it.”

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly walk past him, seeing him watch you the entire time with interest. He doesn’t even drop your gaze when he walks over to join you, you hold each other's gaze the entire time; as you fix your stance, as you begin to pace around him like a lion stalking its prey.

You hadn’t even noticed Ser Erwin join the crowd as he was finished sparring with Ser Arryk. All you focused on was Aemond, it let you catch his lunge in time to deflect it.

His smirk deepens at the action and he tries to catch you off guard by pretending to swing and instead deciding to slide forward to jab you, but you quickly use your shield and block him before pushing him back and dropping your sword to pull out your dagger. Just as you were going to point at his throat though, he pulls out a dagger himself and you both end up pointing at each other at the same time.

“Smart,” he compliments you.

You scoff and shake your head. “Not smart enough.” You sheath your dagger and pick up your sword again.

This time you throw your shield aside and attack first, but he quickly parrys and hits your hand with the bottom of his sword to unarm you.

Yet before he can do anything else, you kick him back. He chuckles and strides over to swing, but you quickly throw your head back and let the blade swing past your face. When you stand up straight you shoot him a smirk before spinning around to face him again on opposite sides.

Aemond holds your gaze and licks his lips before he strides over to lunge. You avoid his action and pull out a dagger, he catches your action albeit and picks up your sword off the ground to then watch you as you watch him.

A second passes before he grows impatient and flips the swords around to then swing down. You avert his action, but right away he kicks your knee before trying to jab your side. You falter but still try to avoid his action, yet he then uses the other sword to disarm you before quickly grabbing your wrist to spin you around and press you against his chest, and point his sword at your throat.

“Have you fallen behind, my love?” He teases against your ear.

You’re annoyed that he manages to win, but you can’t help but smile as you feel him, and hear his voice close by your ear.

“I’ve been pregnant,” you excuse your loss even if you’ve already returned to train three months ago.

Aemond scoffs. “And you trained for half of those nine months.”

You look up and barely catch a glimpse of his blue eye. “What can I say then?” You offer him a smirk and just hold his gaze until you push his arm off to pull away.

“Another round?” Aemond asks.

You sigh and take your sword from him as you shake your head. “I’ll watch for a few more minutes, maybe I’ll even spar the loser?”

He hums in agreement and doesn’t argue against you, so you return your sword to the racks and Aemond follows.

“Tell me now who you see behind us.” He asks.

You blink and discreetly glance over your shoulder, noticing two cloaked young boys, or so it seems by their stature. Yet you can’t see their faces since they have their backs turned.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Their backs are turned.”

Aemond smirks and meets your gaze. “Pay close attention.” He departs from the racks and returns to the circle to rematch against Ser Criston.

While you slowly rejoin the crowd, you keep an eye on the dark haired boys. Ser Erwin joins your side and follows your line of gaze.

“Who are they?” You ask.

Your Knight shrugs. “I don’t know, my Lady. They just walked in.”

You hum and look back at Aemond as he blocks Ser Criston’s swing. It’s in the moment that you pulled your eyes away from the boys that they actually joined the crowd—you can see them watching your husband carefully and with awe.

They don’t notice your stare, or the Knights beside you. Their obliviousness is what lets you study them, their young face, and thinner and shorter stature; their short and dark hair, and their pale face. They have on darker cloaks, gray with a very faint dark shade of blue. They stand out compared to the others gawking, it’s weird but that’s when it finally hits you, who they are; Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon.

Hmm.

When you heard that they didn’t look like they’re father you never actually imagined it’d be so obvious that they were…bastards. You always thought that it was an exaggeration, that people were being dramatic and hateful perhaps, but now as you see them with your own eyes it’s so obvious that they’re not Leanor Velaryon sons.

And it’s not their complexion that gives them away, but the lack of silver-white hair. Both Rhaenyra and Leanor have sliver-white hair after all, it’s a trait from their bloodline, something both boys should’ve gotten based on genetics. That’s the difference that makes it the most obvious. It’s what makes Lucerys claim laughable, they’re not fooling anyone. No matter how hard they try to argue for it, or the King's ignorance.

Regardless, you still approach them as they continue to watch Aemond and Ser Criston. You keep your own gaze on your husband even if your attention is on the boys.

“Great isn’t he?” You chime in and gain the youngest boy's attention. “Even for a man with one eye.” You smirk.

The boy next to you, the one you assume is Jacaerys, finally glances at you, but he doesn’t get to say anything since Aemond interrupts. “Nephews…” he puts his sword down and looks at them. “Have you come to train?”

Before Jacaerys can answer, an announcer interrupts. “Open the gates!”

Everyone’s attention goes to the gates to watch as they open and welcome in Velaryon bannermen, before the Lord Vaemond Velayron follows suit.

It’s not until he’s gone past the big doors that you notice Aemond behind you.

“Nephews,” he greets both boys. “You’ve met my wife I see. The Lady y/n Lannister.” He glances at you. “My love, these are my nephews Jacaerys…”

The Princess’s heir.

“…and Lucerys.”

The boy who took out Aemond’s eye.

You glance at Aemond as he falls at your side and then at the boys. “It’s honor,” you curtsy. “My Princes.”

“Likewise, my Lady,” Jacaerys says. “I would just like to say that it’s quite impressive seeing you wield a sword. I’ve never seen a woman actually use it in public as bravely as you.”

You scoff in amusement. “Thank you, but trust me it has not been so easy, or without judgment. Aemond helps though.” You smile and blink to look at Lucerys standing behind his brother without adding anything, he just keeps glancing at Aemond, at the patch over his eye socket.

Now that you look at him, as he stands there in front of you, you wonder how someone so innocent and sweet looking could do what he did? By appearances it just doesn't seem like he could even if he did.

“I hope,” you continue and look away. “We get to know each other more before your leave back to Dragonstone. I’d love to hear about Aemond when he was young.”

“We shall,” Jacaerys agrees. “And maybe we can spar soon as well.”

You grin and nod. “Yes, that would be great. Anyway,” you sigh. “I’ll leave you boys, I need to go see my baby.” You smirk and take one last look at the guys before breaking away from the group. And just as you think you’ll go alone, Aemond follows.

“You see it?” He asks in a whisper as you approach the stairs.

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eyes and nod. “I see it. It’s a bit too obvious.”

Aemond hums in agreement and you both take one last look at both boys.

——

*A COUPLE MONTHS AGO*

Pain, cramps, and more pain is all that’s felt, it’s overwhelming, loud, and blinding every few minutes. It’s annoying too, irritating.

Sweat damps your skin and makes your clothes stick onto your body. A nauseating smell infiltrates your nose, something that’s supposed to calm you down only pisses you off more; just like Aemond’s never ending pacing that seems to sound loud in your ears.

“Stop,” you mutter. “Nothing is going to change with you pacing like that.”

Aemond comes to a halt and sighs deeply. “If it comes to it,” he says and turns around to face you. “I’ll choose you. I won’t hesitate.”

You swallow thickly and meet his gaze, catching no sign of dishonesty in his eye. He actually looks slightly frightened, nervous (obviously), but not dishonest.

“I’ll pick you,” he repeats himself.

It may be cruel to admit but you find it comforting that he says that. Yet a part of you doubts him if the baby turns out to be a male. An heir.

“Come,” you demand and pat the empty side beside you.

Aemond sighs and approaches you but he doesn’t sit, he stays standing and keeps looking at you as if he could feel your pain, as if it hurt him too.

“And if it’s a boy?” You ask out of curiosity.

Aemond slightly narrows his gaze as if your question offended him, and scoffs. “Do you really expect me to love that baby if it takes you away from me?” He retorts and crouches down by your bedside. “Boy or girl I don’t care, I will pick you.” He grabs your hand and presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “You're mine. It will always be you. To the end of my days.”

Your heart flutters and a smile manages to grow on your lips. “I won’t let the baby take me then.” You assure him before you reach for his cheek to gently begin to caress it. “But swear to me when the baby is here you’ll let them see you without the eyepatch. They’ll see you as you are.”

Aemond nods, and you begin to grin, but instantly lose all your amusement as another wave of pain slams into you. This time instead of walking off to pace, Aemond stays beside you. Even as the pain becomes more consistent he stays by your side and doesn’t let your hand go.

He stays, but, the moment the baby comes out and the first cry breaks the silence born out of fear they wouldn’t be alive, he lets you go and stands up to watch as the midwives wrap up the tiny baby.

He stares at them in disbelief even as they walk over to him with the little bundle.

“It’s a girl,” one of the midwives announces and makes you grin and laugh softly—“You wish to hold her?” She asks Aemond.

Aemond keeps his eye on the baby and swallows thickly before he slowly puts out his hands to receive the baby in his arms.

The moment the midwife steps away and lets Aemond hold her, he glances at you with that same disbelief, before looking back at the baby and lifting one hand to slowly pull off his eyepatch and reveal the sapphire hidden under it. He then proceeds to carefully use his thumb to caress her cheek before slowly grinning down at her.

“Visenya,” he whispers softly. “Such a fitting name for my little delight.” He glances at you and his grin deepens before he slowly crouches down to hand her to you.

Once you have her in your arms. As you see her, her perfect little face and her beautiful silver-white hair, you can’t help but beam at her as tears stream down your eyes.

“She’s perfect,” you cry out of happiness.

Aemond finally sits beside you and watches you hold little Visenya in awe. You look up at him and meet his gaze to share your smile, and he leans in and presses a kiss on the side of your head.

——

…it would be a pleasure to meet my grandchild, Visenya, as soon as we can and it is convenient for you, my daughter.

Your father, Jason Lannister.

You sigh and lower the letter to your lap, letting the little four month old baby come to view.

All throughout the nine months your father knew about your pregnancy he only sent about two letters and showed little interest. Now after four months of being born he only seems so excited because of what was born to little Visenya a month ago, her little scaled and winged companion. Can’t he be anymore obvious.

“Why do you think your grandsire wants to meet you, hm?” You ask the little baby too preoccupied with the wooden lion Ser Erwin had gifted you a year ago. “Is it because he suddenly does care, or because he wants to meet little…moonlight?” You glance at the little baby dragon sleeping beside Visenya and stare at for a second before shaking your head. “That doesn’t sound right. Any ideas, little delight?”

The baby giggles at her little lion and doesn’t even bother to look at you, so you sit back and admire the dark purple dragon balled up by Visenya’s head—at night he appears black like the night sky, but when the moonlight or the sun kisses his scales, they gleam a very dark purple. When he flaps his wings and stretches them out his membrane is black. He’s elegant, majestic, and so very sweet to little Visenya, very protective at such a young age too. He deserves a mighty name.

“What do you think Helaena?” You ask and look over at your goodsister.

However, Helaena is focused on the flower she’s holding and mumbles, “there is a beast beneath the boards.”

She’s said that multiple times already, sometimes she tells you directly, but other times she just mumbles it to herself. You still can’t find the meaning behind it though. Aemond and Alicent say not to worry, but there must be a reason why she keeps saying it. You just don’t know yet.

“What about you Ser Erwin?” You ask your Knight as he stands a few feet away from the patch of grass you were resting on.

The Knight looks over at you at the sound of his name and then hums to hear the question again.

“A name for Visenya’s dragon? I can’t think of one.” You share.

Ser Erwin glances at the dragon and sighs deeply before he shrugs and chuckles softly. “Maybe Storm?”

You smile sweetly and nod. “I’ll take it under consideration, thank you.” You look back at your baby and grin. “Visenya really loves the lion, you know,” you continue to tell him. “The one you gifted me.”

Ser Erwin meets your gaze and smiles. “Does she?”

You nod. “Yes, she does. Ser Robert sent her a little dragon and a little cat doll, but she prefers my wooden lion.” You grin at him and he holds your gaze until you look back at Visenya.

He albeit lets his eyes linger on you, he watches as you begin to play peek a boo with the baby to make her laugh. He sees your smiles, he admires it until the sound of a nearby voice snaps his attention away.

“Lady y/n. Princess.”

You look up at the sound of your name and see Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena walking over, so Helaena and you stand up to greet them.

“Lady Baela,” you curtsy at the girl you saw once a few months ago.

“Lady Rhaena.” She’s the only one you haven't met since she has been in Dragonstone, but as far as appearances go she wasn’t identical to Baela. Unlike her sister, her hair wasn’t loose, it was twisted into locs. Her face appeared to be kinder than her sisters which appeared to be intimidating in ways. They were both very beautiful though. Majestic just like every other person with Valyrian blood.

Regardless, Helaena greets them too and the Targaryen twins offer you both genuine smiles.

“It is a pleasure seeing the both of you out in the gardens,” you say and mean it. As far as resentment for the past, you held none against them since it was not your business, especially since they are not the ones that blinded Aemond.

Actually you quite liked Lady Baela. She was very kind and you had much in common the last time you met. Sure she did not stay for too long, and not much was brought up about the past last time, but you did end up talking to each other for a few hours; you laughed, gossiped and talked some more. It was nice, refreshing having someone to actually talk to. All the other girls you are friends with work here for you, so it doesn’t feel as genuine some of the times, but with Baela it felt great to laugh with her because she actually meant it.

And maybe talking to her reminded you of Nyra, the relationship you miss. Helaena is sweet, she’s funny when she can be, but that bond you had with Nyra was different, and that night with Baela felt like being with her again.

“Please join us. We were just taking in the sun.”

Both girls don’t question your invitation and sit on the blanket you had spread over the grass.

“Thank you,” Rhaena says once she’s sat.

“I had the intention to go greet the both of you sooner, but I lost track of time,” you admit and look down at Visenya. “Sorry.”

Lady Rhaena shakes her head gently and assures you. “It’s alright, we understand, I hope we can speak now, if that’s alright.”

You nod. “Yes, it is, Visenya just ate, so she should be content for a while longer.”

“Visenya,” Baela says with a soft smile. “That’s the babes name? I thought it was going to be—”

“No,” you cut her off with a smile. “We do not talk about that. I was clearly not thinking straight that night.”

Baela smirks at you before she snickers

“Anyway, yes, this is my little Visenya.” You reach over for the baby to carry her in your arms. You brush her little silver hair out of her eyes, and that’s when both girls narrow their eyes to try and take a better look as they’re both caught off guard by Visenya’s eyes.

“Are her eyes…” Baela mutters and then lifts her gaze to meet yours. “Are her eyes violet?”

You smile over at Visenya and nod. “Yes. The Maester says it is a defect that must have happened when she was in the womb, but, I would rather agree with Aemond and say that it is a blessing from the gods.”

“It truly is,” Rhaena says sweetly. “Can she see?”

You nod. “Yes she can. Her eyes work fine, it’s just the color that’s unique.”

“May I hold her?” Baela asks.

Without hesitance you hand her the baby, and right away as if somehow someone alerted the dragon, Visenya’s dragon wakes up and immediately watches Baela as she holds Visenya. He stays put and doesn’t keep his eyes off her.

“Such a fitting name for a little warrior,” Baela tells the baby, and Visenya just keeps holding her lion.

“I hope the Red Keep has been kind,” Helaena says. “I know it’s your first time here Rhaena, it must be a bit overwhelming.”

Said girl nods. “Yes it is, but the Red Keep has been kind, Princess Rhaenyra has been very kind and shown me what she can.”

“That’s good. And the garden? Do you like it?” Helaena asks.

Rhaena nods. “Yes they’re quite beautiful.”

You nod in agreement and then look over at Baela. “Have you told your father yet?”

Baela eyes land on you and she lowers the baby to let her sit on her lap. “No,” she admits. “There has not been the right time. I just saw him actually after a long time.”

You begin to fiddle with the grass and scoff softly. “You know I told you already that I doubt your father would care. He might even teach you.”

Rhaena looks between the both of you in confusion before she asks her question. “Ask father what?”

Baela sighs. “How to wield a sword. I want him to teach me the way Aemond teaches y/n.”

You smirk and look between the both of them, noticing Rhaena looks quite shocked but not upset, just surprised.

“And you know, if anyone has shit to say, simply eat them with your dragon.” You share lightheartedly. “Fear me people for I am a dragon goddess. That’s what you all say.” You giggle and throw your hands out, and Baela smirks and rolls her eyes as she tries not to laugh, whilst Helaena and Rhaena laugh at your comment.

“Hey,” you keep saying. “Maybe ask Prince Jacaerys,” you tease. “Have him teach you how to wield a sword, and have him press you against his chest.” You grin. “That’s how I wooed my lover. Sword fighting.”

Rhaena nudges Baela, and Baela just scoffs. The conversation continues between the four of you, you all get along very well, you end up sharing tips on married life, and tips on motherhood. You share jokes and laugh at them, you get along under the sun, and it was truly a pleasure.

As much as you love Aemond’s company, he’s not a girl, he doesn’t understand a lot of things you deal with. They do though, all of them and it feels nice bonding over that. Besides, Rhaena and Baela had names ideas for the baby dragon since you were stuck. That was also a very good win.

Regardless, now that you were all heading back inside the castle all together, there Aemond was, leaning against the gates frame, watching and waiting. Not like it matters, it makes you happy, so you excuse yourself and hand the dragonkeeper the baby dragon before you rush over to Aemond with Visenya in your arms.

“Aemond,” you greet with a beaming grin.

Aemond pushes himself off the gates frame and meets your gaze with a smirk. Once you reach him he grabs your cheek and you share a deep kiss.

“How are my girls?” He asks quietly so no one could hear him.

“Good, ready to head inside and take a nap.” You answer and look at Visenya.

Aemond hums and then focuses on Visenya, he smiles softly whilst the baby begins to kick her feet and smile as she sees her father.

“My little delight,” he says and takes her from you since that’s what the baby wanted.

“Okay,” you sigh as you both begin walking inside together. “I thought of some names. Storm, Volos, Nightwing, Eris, Nyx, or…that’s it.” You huff.

Aemond hums and glances at you before glancing at the baby. “Why not let her choose when she gets older?”

You look over at him and hesitate before you nod. “That would work too.”

He hums.

You smile and sigh with relief. “Thank you, now I can stop stressing about it.” And just as you were going to mention your fathers letter, just as you walk inside you run into Aegon.

“Brother,” he says as if relieved. “There you are.” He looks over and smirks. “My sweet goodsister. And my favorite niece.” He meets his brother halfway and gets in between Aemond and you.

“What do you want, Aegon?” Aemond deadpans.

“Or is that you have finally made something of your day,” you quip and earn a snicker from Aegon— “Besides drinking?”

“Not quite,” he retorts and then grabs his brothers shoulder to lower his voice. “I have come to ask Aemond something, and y/n if you want to get in this you are welcome to.”

Aemond sighs and you answer for him. “What is it?”

“As we all know, Aemond our sister is here, along with her are her sons, Jace and Luke, what are we going to do about that?”

Aemond and you share a passing glance before you both look at Aegon.

“Nothing Aegon;” you turn him down. “You are not going to do anything. Need I remind you your age? Or the fact that they are here for business. Meaning you need to be on your best behavior.”

Aegon yawns and rolls his eyes. “What a bore that is. You sound like Aemond. No fun whatsoever.”

You scoff. “I can be fun, my fun albeit, doesn’t involve tormenting little boys anymore.”

“Anymore?” Aegon probes with a half grin and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Please pray tell.”

You glance at him and shrug. “When I was young, little boys were all a bunch of stuck up shits that liked to push me and some girls around, so I taught them a thing or two.” You smirk. “Let’s just say they never messed with me again.”

Aemond snickers and Aegon smiles proudly.

“So tell me. What was it?” Aegon asks.

You shake your head and push him away. “Nothing. Because we are not to mess with the boys.”

Aegon sighs deeply and drags his feet. “Okay, maybe verbal torment?”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “No. Just stick with maybe…discreet verbal jabs?”

Aegon shoots you a grin and nods in agreement. “See, I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He claps his hands and begins to walk away from Aemond and you. “Thank you. I will keep it in mind.”

You offer him a partial wave and when he’s out of sight Aemond and you just sigh.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

There were murmurs heard about the throne room, all conversations kept between one another as you all waited for The Hand to start the petition on behalf of Princess Rhaenyra, and Lord Vaemon.

“He did what?” You ask Aemond in a low whisper so those around you wouldn’t hear.

“My mother didn’t tell you?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No. She dismissed me yesterday but didn’t tell me the reason. Now it makes sense…” you pause and you both glance at Aegon since it’s him who you were talking about, what he did to one of the serving girls.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” You ask Aemond as you focus back on him.

Aemond meets your gaze. “I only just found out as well,” he shares.

You hum in comprehension and steal one last piercing glare at Aegon.

As far as he goes, he’s not your favorite brother whatsoever, he was nice to you, sure, he treats you like a sibling does, but well…it’s hard to really tolerate him when he does stuff like that to girls.

That’s why Daeron is the better brother. Not only because he’s been keeping in touch with you since he sent his first letter, but because he's simply better.

“And Helaena?” You ask. “Does she know?”

Aemond shakes his head. “No. Mother says it’s best if she does not know, so please do not mention it.”

You sigh and nod. “Of course. It’s just…it’s just sad you know. She’s always been kind to me and to keep things from her.” You sigh deeply again. “I mean I would want someone to tell me.”

Aemond grabs your chin and slightly tilts his head. “I understand, but my sister is sensitive, she’s not like you, it's best if she’s kept in the dark about it.”

You nod hesitantly. “Right,” you agree. “And you,” you begin to tease him. “Would you want me kept in the dark?”

Aemond begins to smirk. “Well, I would never do that, I respect and love you too much.”

You smile and grab his hand. “But if you did?” You insist.

He leans in to whisper in your ear. “Oh I am sure you would figure it out. You and your little birds.”

You smirk and begin to fiddle with the small shard of dragon glass that dangles from the sapphire on your necklace. “That’s right I would. And then I would cut your balls off.”

Aemond chuckles. “Are you threatening me, my love?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m warning you.” You grin mischievously, and Aemond pulls back to steal a kiss.

“<That’s my girl.>” He murmurs in High Valyrian against your lips.

You grab his arm and hold his gaze to share an enamored gaze.

“Aemond,” his mother calls. “Y/N.”

You pull away right away and Aemond lingers by you before you both walk to your spots by the family to begin hearing the petition.

“Though it is the great hope of this court Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds,” Lord Otto speaks as he begins to slowly sit down on the Iron Throne. “We gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” The Lord Hand finally sits down and continues. “The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

You clasp your hands in front of you and watch as the Lord steps to the front of the audience to speak. “My Queen. My Lord Hand. The History of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms, in the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to the new land, knowing that were they to fall it would mean the end to their bloodlines and name.”

You drop your gaze and mess with your lion ring before putting your hands behind you and looking up. That’s when you catch the gaze of another Targaryen man, same Silver-white hair, same piercing gaze, and same majestic beauty they all seem to have; Prince Daemon Targaryen. Baela’s father.

His eyes meet yours from across the Throne room, he holds your gaze for a moment, and you hold his out of curiosity and confusion before the corner of his lips twitch up and he looks away.

If Nyra were here now and she saw, she’d freak out, saying complete stupid things as she swooned for you. Whilst you’d be confused as you are now. It’s just, why did he smirk?

Did he find it funny that you were standing amongst the family? Because if so you could also point out that Princess Rhaenyra’s sons are clearly bastards, it’s as plain as day, especially since it was said that her late husband preferred the company of men. They are not fooling anyone.

Regardless, you still are curious as to why the Prince would even glance at you.

“….The true, impeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins,” you hear Ser Vaemond say as you focus back on him.

“As it does in my sons the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,” Princess Rhaenyra interjects. “If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition—”

“You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” Alicent cuts her off. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

Said man looks at the Princess, but she immediately looks away the moment he turns.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood Princess?” Ser Vaemond asks her rhetorically. “I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.” He turns away from the Princess now and continues.

You proceed to let your hands go and inch closer to Aemond. When your shoulder brushes his arm he glances down at you and meets your gaze for a brief second before he offers you a faint smirk. He then drops his hands clasped behind him to let his fingers hook around yours.

“This is a matter of blood, not ambition.” You listen to Ser Vaemond say as you look over at him again—“I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brothers successor. The Lord of Driftmark and the Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond,” The Lord Hand says, letting the man walk back to his previous spot so the Princess could say her petition now—“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son Lucerys Velayron.”

The Princess walks to the front of the audience and begins. ��If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago. In this very—” she stops as the doors begin to open, pulling everyone's attention to the end of the room to see the King slowly making his way in.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen,” a Knight announces. “The first of his name….”

Your eyes widen in shock to what you see, and it feels as if the room even stands at standstill.

“…King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!”

The King slowly begins to make his way down the steps, keeping at his own pace as he steps down on the floor since he’s writhing in pain with each step he takes. Once he reaches the steps that lead to the throne, Knights rush over to help him, but he refuses and sends them away.

It’s an admiring act, but when he begins to climb the stairs his crown falls off his head. You look over at Aemond when it does, and he simply just meets your gaze and stays there before you both look over and see Prince Daemon helping the King sit on this throne before placing his crown back on.

When the prince returns to his spot, the King addresses the audience. “I must…admit…my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corly’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

Everyone glances over at her, and she interjects. “Indeed.” She proceeds to step up and continues. “It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son…Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys granddaughters. Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

You smile for the girls and reach for Aemond’s hand as he clasps them behind him again. When he feels your touch he secures his hold around your hand and doesn’t let your hand go.

“Well…the matter is settled,” the King says. “Again. I hearby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velayron as heir to Driftmark. The Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.” He wheezes and the matter should’ve been left alone now, but Ser Vaemond cuts in angirly.

“You break law, and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir..”

You roll your eyes at that argument.

“…yet you dare tell me…who deserves to inherit the name Velayron. No,” he mutters. “I will not allow it.”

“Allow it?” The King retorts. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

Ser Vaemond suddenly shifts around to point at Lucerys. “That is no true Velayron,” he shouts, making you move your hand to grab Aemond’s arm—“Certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Go to your chambers,” Princess Rhaenyra tells her children before returning to adress Ser Vaemond. “You have said enough.”

“Lucerys is my true born grandson,” the King clarifies. “And you…no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

You scoff in amusement.

“You,” Ser Vaemond argues. “May run your house as you see fit…but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom. And a thousand years of tribulations besides. And gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this…” he pauses and turns his head.

“Her children…are bastards!” He bellows, making the King stand up, and making Aemond begin to smirk—“And she…is…a whore.”

You gasp softly in surprise simply over the fact that he would dare say that in front of the King.

“I,” the King groans and pulls out his dagger. “Will have your tongue for that.”

Yet before he could even try to go down the stairs suddenly the sound of a metal hitting against flesh fills the room, gasps follow, and Aemond suddenly pushes you back and keeps one arm on you. When you look over at where the commotion comes from you're shocked to see part of Ser Vaemond’s head falling to the ground.

“He can keep his tongue,” Prince Aemond quips as he puts his sword down.

“Disarm him!” The Knights yell, but the Prince just assures them and cleans his swords as he steps back, letting you finally take in what happened, and ending up slowly smirking as you think of what Prince Daemon just did in defense of his wife and her son.

It was admirable, and well…very fucking impressive. He was impressive.

However, as everyone was focusing on what had happened, the King falls back to his chair, causing Alicent to rush over to help him.

The Maesters and the Knights then rush over to help him out too, whilst you walk over to Helaena’s side as she keeps her ears plugged after the incident with Ser Vaemond ensued.

“It’s okay,” you mutter and grab her arm.

Helaena keeps her ears plugged but looks over at you. You proceed to offer her a soft smile and turn her away from the dead body bleeding out on the ground.

“Let’s get out of here, yes?” You tell her softly.

Helaena nods and lets you walk her out. She lets you walk her through some halls, out to the gardens and finally to the library where she finally feels calm after the walk.

“Now, we will leave to go get ready for dinner, okay?” You say.

Helaena offers you a small smile and nods in agreement.

“But first,” she interjects. “Can you stay and wait for me? I want to get a book from here first.”

You nod without hesitance and stay back to wait for her where you are.

When you lose her figure throughout the rows of bookcases you turn to go sit, but end up catching Prince Daemon wandering closeby.

He notices you right away—or finally catches you alone and meets your gaze with a partial smile before he chooses to approach you.

“Lady Lannister,” he greets.

The walk must’ve been longer than you thought if he’s already here all by himself.

“Prince Daemon,” you greet in return and curtsy.

Prince Daemon stops a couple feet away and keeps that same partial smile on his face as he clasps his hands in front of him. “It’s an honor finally getting to meet you,” he surprises you by saying.

You giggle and shake your head as you drop your eyes.

“What?” He retorts seriously. “What’s so funny? I heard that the Lady Lannister has more balls than her twin fathers combined.”

You scoff in amusement and glance up at him, noticing he was closer now, his stance wasn’t stiff, his eyes were still on you and his smile was turned to a smirk.

“Well if that’s so then please make sure to tell my father,” you retort a bit more collected. “He’ll rejoice and maybe finally give me what belongs to me.”

Prince Daemon chuckles and stays quiet for a moment before he glances around briefly. “Regardless, I hope,” he says with a sigh and meets your gaze. “That my display of violence today didn’t disturb you.”

You scoff in amusement and shake your head. “Not at all, I found it quite exciting actually. I mean it added excitement to a rather boring petition. No offense.”

Prince Daemon shakes his head and takes a step closer to you. “Not at all because the petition was unnecessary.”

You smile and nod. “Exactly, so maybe I should thank you. Besides, I found your actions quite….admiring.”

Prince Daemon smirks and slowly begins to close the large gap between you. “Is that so?” He probes.

You hum and watch drop his gaze briefly before lifting his eyes and meeting your gaze as you watch him closely.

“I hope that I get to see your swordsmanship for myself before I leave back to Dragonstone,” Prince Daemon interjects and slowly begins to walk around you, making you turn with him so you can keep your eyes on him.

You then chuckle and shake your head. “I’m afraid I am not worth watching. I am not as skilled as you or my husband,” you protest.

Daemon scoffs. “You’re being modest, my Lady.”

You shrug and hold his gaze. “Maybe,” you snap smugly.

“Well,” he sighs. “I hope I get to see it for myself. A one on one.” Prince Daemon stops walking and stands a few inches away now. He holds your gaze and keeps on his faint smirk, whilst you clasp your hands in front of you and offer him a sweet smile.

“We’ll have to see won’t we, I mean I have heard a lot of things about you.” You mention.

Daemon slightly narrows his eyes out of curiosity. “Good I hope?” He asks.

You shrug. “Depends on who you ask.”

He shoots you a pointed gaze and probes. “What have you heard?”

You draw in a deep breath and sigh. “That you are a legendary sword fighter as well as a dragon rider,” you share.

“You flatter me,” he scoffs.

You shake your head and retort. “I’m only stating the truth. It’s what you wanted, no?”

Daemon scoffs softly and nods before blinking and offering you a small smirk. “I’ve heard you are more of a dragon than a lion now.”

You snicker and slightly tilt your head. “Is that so?” You press.

His smirk deepens and before he can respond one of the castle workers walks up to you and hands you a scroll. “Here, My Lady,” she says. “It’s from the orphanage at Flea Bottom.”

You grab her hands and bow your head. “Thank you, Sasha.”

The brunette smiles at you and then leaves, letting you turn away from the Prince to open the scroll and read the words written on it.

“From the bottom of our hearts we thank you Lady Lannister for your generous donation. I hope the gods bless you and yours.

~ The children and everyone at the Mothers Home For Children.”

You smirk with pride at the words and begin to roll it back as the Prince interjects. “Good news?”

You nod and glance at him. “Excellent,” you share with a grin, and end up looking away first as you see Helaena approaching. “Ready?” You ask her.

As Helaena reaches your side she notices who you’re in front of and offers him a smile. “Uncle,” she greets.

He offers her a faint smile and bows his head. “Niece.”

You grab Helaena’s arm and glance at the Prince one last time. “We will see each other at dinner later, goodbye Prince Daemon.” You offer him one last smile and turn Helaena to begin walking out, letting him watch you both leave.

——

*LATER*

As far as family dinners go, they were okay, they were usually worth looking up to now, but this time, tonight wasn’t so appealing. Having all of them in one room was like chaos waiting to happen. It made you want to stay and eat dinner with Aemond in your shared quarters. And he wouldn't be against it either considering he doesn’t want to go, but you were all going for his father.

“How’s that?” He asks.

You glance up and notice he’s looking at the strings in the back of your dress.

“That’s good,” you assure him as you keep looking at him, watching as he knots the string, taking in the feeling of his hands on you, feeling his gentle breath unfurl on the back of your neck, and catching his stolen glance he shot your way.

When he notices you catch him, he looks down and pulls his hands away as he finishes.

“Beautiful,” he says.

You smile and keep your eyes on him. This time he looks up again and scoffs. “What?”

You smirk slowly and turn to face him, he meets your gaze and waits for a response. “Just admiring you, that’s all,” you say sweetly.

Aemond scoffs again and drops his gaze once more. He never takes compliments so well, he’s always so timid about them. It’s adorable.

“What?” You retort softly and close the small gap left between you to fiddle with the buckles of his leather dress coat.

Aemond slowly looks up at you and begins to smirk whilst he grabs your necklace to fiddle with that himself. You grin and place your hands on his chest before sliding them up to his shoulders.

“Maybe,” you begin to suggest in a whisper. “We can steal some time for ourselves, hm? Visenya is not here, we’re all alone.”

Aemond slowly tilts his head and licks his lips as he glances at yours. “We’ll be late,” he says.

You shrug. “So?” You argue. “We don’t have to take long. You wouldn’t even have to take off my dress, just a minute or two.”

Aemond leans in so his lips are close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He slowly parts his lips and sniffs your neck, getting a whiff of the perfume he liked so much before pulling back to press a kiss on your jaw.

You immediately smile and wrap your arms around his neck as he places his hands on your hips.

Aemond then kisses a trail along your jaw until he reaches your lips and pauses. You grow impatient so you lean in and kiss him, biting his bottom lip just slightly before adding more desperation to your kiss.

He chuckles at your action and then pushes you back to the bed. You beam up at him as he hovers over you and traps your head between his hands.

“Maybe,” you murmur and grab his collar to pull him closer. “We can make another baby. Maybe a boy this time.”

Aemond offers you a half grin and huffs. “As long as they’re fierce like they’re mother, I don’t care what they are,” he says and lets you pull him in for a kiss.

When you pull away you flip him around and lay above him, he proceeds to cup your cheek with one hand, but you grab his hand and push it down to your throat so he can wrap his fingers around it.

He snickers and kisses you first this time, unable to keep his hands from hiking up your skirt. Just as he was going to begin pulling down your undergarments a knock raps on your door, causing him to groan and for you to pull back.

“Who is it?!” You shout to the visitor.

“It’s Helaena!” She reveals herself. “I thought we could walk to dinner together?!”

You glance down at Aemond and snicker at him before fully pulling away from him and landing your feet on the floor. “Yes! That would be great, I will be out!”

You turn and watch Aemond pick himself off the bed to begin following you.

“Maybe, your little delight can sleep in the children’s room tonight?” You suggest smugly.

Aemond hums as you open the door to see Helaena waiting outside patiently.

“You look lovely,” she compliments and hooks her arm around yours.

You offer her a kind smile. “As do you,” you redirect and let her walk you off in front of Aemond.

On the way to the hall where dinner was meant to be, Helaena talks your ear off, when you reach the hall she doesn’t stop and brings her grandfather in the conversation since he, the Queen, and the others were already there waiting for the King to arrive. Even Aegon was there already—But he was mostly likely brought in by his mother or his grandfather, he’d probably be late otherwise.

Regardless, as you all waited, as you listened to Helaena speak, you feel a slight tingling sensation on your face. You rub your bottom lip to try and make it go away but it stays, so you reach for your wine and take a sip to ease whatever it is.

Alas, it’s as you’re drinking that you mindlessly glance around and accidentally catch the eyes of another already on you, Prince Daemon.

He lifts his goblet in front of him to take a drink, and you swallow back your wine and glance away, catching Aemond’s comment to his brother.

“Even when the noose is tied they expect us to break bread.”

You scoff softly and put down your cup, from one moment to another feeling a pat on your shoulder. As you look up you see Aegon now beside you.

“More wine my beloved goodsister?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Believe it or not,” you quip. “I am still working on my first one. What is this, your tenth cup just tonight?”

Aegon snickers and chugs the rest of the wine he has left. “Now,” he retorts and pulls his cup away from his lips. “It’s my tenth one. What a keen eye.”

You roll your eyes and push his hand off your shoulder. The door then proceeds to open as the King is brought in, making all the chatter come to a halt, and making Aemond take his seat at your side and directly across the table from Lucerys and Rhaena, whilst the others return to their own seats. Those who were sitting down, like you, stand up for a moment before you sit again and get pushed in closer to the table as the King is put down in front of the table.

After that the King doesn’t take long to break the silence. “How good it is….to see you all tonight,” he mutters hoarsely. “Together.” He breathes out and goes quiet, letting Alicent speak up.

“Prayer before we begin?” She suggests, and he agrees, causing you to hold your hands over the table and close your eyes as she continues. “May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest.” She finishes, and you add your own small prayer quietly to yourself before opening your eyes and resting your hands on your lap.

“This is an occasion for celebration. It seems,” the King continues to add. “My grandsons, Jace and Luke. Will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena. Further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young Princes…and their betrothed.”

You grab your cup and lift it just slightly before you bring it to your lips to take a sip for the Targaryen twins.

“Hear, hear!” Prince Daemon exclaims.

“Let us toast as well to Prince Lucerys…” The King continues. “The future Lord of the Tides.”

“Hear, hear,” Baela says, and you take another sip, catching your ever so beloved husband piercing his glare into Luke.

When Aemond catches your gaze he simply puts his cup down and holds your gaze to share his discontent with a look alone, before you both look over at his father as he taps his cane against the ground for the attention of everyone around.

Now the King stands up and begins to breathe heavily as he does, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing to speak. “It both gladdens my heart, and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world…yet grown so distant from each other…in the years past.” He sighs before he reaches for his mask to slowly take it off and reveal what he hid under.

“My own face…” the King proceeds, whilst you let out a small breath of discomfort—or more pity. No matter how many times you’ve already seen his face in the times you’ve visited him, his face isn’t something you can’t get used to—“is no longer a handsome one…if indeed it ever was. But tonight…I wish you to see me…as I am.”

“Not just a king…but your father. Your brother. Your husband, and your grandsire. Who may not it seems…walk for much longer among you.” He lets out a heavy breath and hits his mask against the table. “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown…then for the sake of this old man. Who loves you all so dearly.” He lets out another deep breath and slowly sits back down.

Now you begin to twist your Targaryen sigil ring around your finger and glance up at Princess Rhaenyra as she stands up to do a toast of her own. “I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood…more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended him with…unfailing devotion, love and honor. And for that she has my gratitude…and my apology.” She sits back down as she finishes, and Alicent slowly interjects.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess.” She sniffles. “We’re both mothers…and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow.” She proceeds to stand up and raises her cup along. “I raise my cup to you…and to your house. You will make a fine Queen.”

You raise your cup and sip some wine to Alicent’s kind words. You would’ve said something yourself, but in all reality you would’ve just raised your cup to Visenya and Aemond, so you just keep quiet instead and watch Aegon walk over to Baela and Jacaerys side to add something in a whisper that suddenly makes Jacaerys slam his fists against the table and stand up, earning everyone’s attention, and causing Aemond to stand up in his brother's defense.

As Jacaerys notices he glances over at Aemond and stays quiet. Alicent from across the table shares a quick passing look with you before she points to Aemond with her eyes.

You knew Aemond though, he wouldn’t do anything, yet, he was just intimidating the boy, so you did nothing but listen to Jacaerys as he interjects and raises his cup.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond…We haven’t seen each other in years. But I have fond memories of our shared youth.” He sighs. “And as men. I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s health dear uncles.”

You grab your cup and look up at Aemond beside you with a soft smile before happily taking a drink for that. Aemond stays on his feet for a moment longer albeit. Once he sits down though, you grab his hand. Aemond looks at you and sighs before he fills your cup with more wine as you set it down, making sure to keep his hand secured under yours.

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena,” Helaena interjects as she stands up, causing you to glance up at her as she continues. “They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad, mostly he just ignores you….except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

You grin in amusement at her toast and hear scattered laughter fill the room, making her smile as she sits back down.

“Good,” her grandfather whispers to her, and you reach for her hand to offer her a sweet smile.

“Let us have some music,” the King orders, and the music plays.

You shift in your seat to face Aemond, but in that moment see Jacaerys walk over and offer his hand to Helaena.

When she notices him she seems surprised but doesn’t turn him down and lets him walk her over to dance.

And honestly, it’s a bit funny that Jacaerys is toying with Aegon like that. Furthermore, you’re a bit envious too.

But that soon passes as Aemond begins to caress your hand with his thumb. When you glance at him you share a smile before reaching over for the strawberry tarts.

“Are you going to eat dessert before your dinner?” Aemond comments right away.

You put a fresh strawberry tart on your plate and nod. “Yes. What about it? You want a bite, my beloved?”

Aemond scoffs. “Visenya eats better than you.”

You giggle. “Visenya is a picky eater. It seems she has acquired your tastes.” You grab a piece with your fork and offer the piece to him. “Come on. They’re fresh and delicious. Please.” You bat your lashes.

Aemond glances at the food you offer him and then looks back at you. He sighs and reaches for your fork to take the bite you offer him.

You beam at him when he passes you back your fork, and he just rolls his eyes and makes you giggle. You intend to add something, but you pause to stand up as the King is being carried away. It’s only when he passes the table that you sit back down and continue in your same content.

“I forgot to tell you…”

Aemond sits back down and looks at you as you speak to him.

“Visenya rolled her eyes at me the other day, just like you did just now.” You lean closer to him.

Aemond smirks. “Did she?” He asks in amusement. “I suppose she has inherited your attitude then?”

You shoot him a pointed look and scoff softly before you just brush it aside. “Sure, I won’t even try to argue that because we won’t get anywhere. Just know your daughter rolled her eyes.”

Aemond grins and chuckles softly at that. Yet that happiness is short lived because as soon as the pig is set down in front of the both of you he suddenly grows serious and slams his fist against the table before standing up.

“Final tribute,” he interjects and raises his cup, making you grab yours and watch him. “To the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” he pauses and everyone looks over at him and waits in the tension that was beginning to rise again.

“Hm,” he hums. “Strong,” he finishes, and you try not to, but you find his comment funny and can’t help but smirk and pass a mischievous glance at Lucerys sitting at the other side.

“Come,” Aemond continues and pushes his cup to Jacaerys. “Let us drain our cups to these three…”

You lift your cup without shame in support of Aemond, even if you catch Baela’s glare.

“…strong boys.”

“I dare you to say it again,” Jacaerys quickly snaps back.

“Why? It was only a compliment,” Aemond quips and begins to trudge over to him, making you and everyone around the table stand up to watch them—“Do you not think yourself Strong?”

Without a moment to think, Jacaerys swings his fist and punches Aemond across the face.

Of course you don’t worry, you know that doesnt hurt Aemond, it only ignites more amusement. You don’t even worry when Aegon slams Lucerys face against the table.

Sure you can’t say you liked throwing away your new friendship with Baela because of this, but Aemond was your family, your husband, so you don’t hesitate facing as she tries to storm over to Aegon and Aemond.

The moment she catches your taunting gaze she seems betrayed and only grows more furious, and you more amused; you offer her a cocky smirk, and proudly raise your head to show her you’re more than ready to fight if need be, even if you hear Alicent and Princess Rhaenrya try to stop what’s going on.

It’s not one of your—no, it is one of your proudest moments. Who are you kidding? Drama and fighting is a delight.

Baela doesn’t share your amusement though, especially not as Aemond shoves her betrothed to the ground with ease. But she can’t do anything about it, about your stance, or your threatening gaze since her sister holds her back.

“Rhaena!” She tries to call her sister off as she keeps holding your gaze.

You slowly begin to grin at her before Aegon walks over to you with pride over your actions.

He grabs your shoulder and turns you around.

“…though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs!” You hear Aemond say as he continues to storm back to Jacaerys.

Jacaerys manages to slip out of the guards hold and tries to storm over to Aemond to meet him in the middle, but Prince Daemon comes in between them first.

“Wait, wait!” He makes Jacaerys step back, and The Princess sends them away whilst Prince Daemon turns and meets Aemond’s gaze.

That’s the only time when you grow concerned and serious. As they hold each other's glares, since you know what they’re both capable of.

Luckily nothing happens though, Aemond just loses his smirk and hums before he walks away. You immediately pull away from Aegon and follow after Aemond back to your quarters.

He doesn’t speak the entire way there, nor when you find privacy inside your room. And you know better than to press him when he’s upset, at least right away. You let him keep to himself and get a bath fixed instead.

Like always he watches the flames of the fire dance in the fireplace and only breaks his eyes away when he hears you dip in. Yet he doesn’t say a thing, so you now interject.

“You will grow wrinkles at an early age if you keep scowling like that.” You sink deeper in and let your arm hang over the tub. “Why don’t you join me?”

Aemond stands up and pulls a chair to the side of the tub to sit beside you.

“I hoped you would join me inside,” you say and grab his hand to fiddle with his fingers.

Aemond sighs and meets your gaze. “I enjoy admiring you from here just fine. I find pleasure in watching you bathe.”

You smile before you rest your chin on his hand. “Like the first time?” You ask.

Aemond nods. “Yes.”

You grin, and he cups the side of your head to tilt your head up to face him. “When my father dies my brother will become King. A war will most likely start over the throne….” he sighs and averts his gaze.

That’s obvious. It’s been obvious since Aegon was born to King Viserys and he didn’t change his heir. Marrying Aemond forced you to a side whether you wanted to or not. You've never doubted your alliance though, not even when you didn't like him, nor when Visenya was born, so what does he mean by this?

“Yes,” you mutter unsurely. “What about it?” You pick your head off his hand and slightly narrow your eyes. “Is there something you wish to ask?”

Aemond shakes his head. “No, it is not that. Listen to me, y/n,” he makes himself clear and holds your hands in his. “No matter what was said at dinner by my mother, putting Aegon on the throne has always been the plan—”

“Yes,” you cut him off. “I know and I won't debate who I will side with because I know my answer, my answer is you. Not Aegon, you.” You lean in closer to him and hold his gaze. “Just you. If you want the throne for yourself I will fight for you—”

Aemond shifts in his seat and swallows thickly. “For myself?” He asks as if you don’t know what runs through his mind, as if you don’t know his worth.

You nod confidently. “We both know you are more suited for the throne than Aegon. I know you are more suited for it, and I know you deserve it. I know you Aemond—I like to think I do anyway. So, if you wish to fight for it I will side with you because I am your wife, and you are my husband.” You kiss his hands and smile up at him.

Meanwhile, Aemond lets his eyes linger on you in the silence that fell over you. He doesn’t move, or say a thing right away, he just stares at you for a moment before he slowly smiles and pulls his hands away from yours to grab your face and pull you in for a kiss.

You’re stunned by the action, thinking he would be upset, but he isn’t, so you kiss him back with a heated passion and don’t pull away until he does so he can rest his forehead agaisnt yours.

“And I want you as my Queen, at my side,” he says against your lips. “There is no one more fucking capable than you. The people love you, you do so much for them, people at court love you. You would make an excellent Queen.”

You scoff and shake your head. “I am not of Valyrian blood,” you murmur with insecurity.

Aemond pulls his face away and shakes his head. “Nor is my mother. You don’t need it, you are my wife, and far more worthy of that title than any other woman.”

The corner of your lips tug to a soft smile, and he continues.

“And I have an heir, Visenya. If not we’ll make one….”

He suddenly trails off and lowers his gaze. He lets his hands slip off your face, and you know right away what crosses his mind.

“But you won’t do it,” you interject.

Aemond sighs and shakes his head slowly. “No.”

You sigh and tilt your head to meet his gaze. “I will stand by your side regardless,” you assure him.

Aemond stands up and you watch him begin to strip off his clothes before he gets in the bath with you. As he rests his arms on the side of the bath, you crawl over to him, and he watches you carefully and with a smirk playing on his lips before grabbing your chin.

“There are things that I will most likely have to do for Aegon,” he finally says once you’re in front of him. “Things I will understand if you do not want to be a part of.”

You begin to smirk and scoff at him. “You know me, right?” You tell him and pull his hand off your chin to grab it. “I am not one to shy away from blood, or violence.”

Aemond begins to smirk.

“If you wish to burn down castles,” you continue softly and slither your hands over his arms. “I will be on that dragon with you. War is war. I will not cower away from it.” You reach for his face and shoot him a half cocky grin before pressing a kiss on his lips, and then staying inches away.

“I have your back, always,” you remind him and pull off his eyepatch to look at him as he is. “No matter what you do, my love. Until the end of my days.”

Aemond grins proudly, and caresses your chin before he cradles your face and presses a gentle kiss on your lips and murmurs against them. “I thank the gods everyday that they gave me to you.”

You scoff softly and avert your gaze, but he quickly tilts your head so you can meet his gaze to make himself clear. “I have your back. I will love you, until the end of my days.”

Tagged: @winter-soldier-101 @whateverooooooo @xcharlottemikaelsonx @blue-serendipityy @aistheamazing @lawlerek @hydrationqueensworld @out-of-life @claudie-080102 @ameagrice

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hyperfixated-gvf · 1 year

Text

Double Trouble

On the twelfth day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A Danny x Reader x Josh Tropemas ending!

Christmas Song Pairing: “I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm" by Dean Martin

Trope: Cuddle For Warmth

~~~

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader x Josh Kiszka

Warnings: Language, smut, threesome, Josh x Danny content

Words: 4.8k

Author's Note: Well, we stuck to the schedule much better than we did last year, so I count it a win. I feel like I cheated Danny gals out of a solo fic, so I have a second version of cuddle for warmth that I might one day release, who knows. There also might be a little treat for any of my other Sam/Danny pairing lovers out there -- stay tuned.

Most of all, I know there has been a few Josh x Danny x Reader fics written recently, and you should all definitely go check out @streamingcolors-gvf and @tripthelightfandomtastic because they both have some things. I swear this was one of the first fics I wrote for Tropemas and am not in any way trying to ride the waves of their glory (I would drown, their content is too good and almost intimidated me out of posting this but 🤷‍♀️) so I hope you all enjoy the last (official) Tropemas fic!

Cheers to another successful year of Tropemas! 🥂

18+ / MINORS DNI

~~~

“I told you guys this motel was sketchy as fuck,” you said into total darkness, the already-spotty lamp having shorted out and left you with nothing but the howl of the wind outside that was whistling in from some crack in the window. Not that the boys had really any say in where you’d had to pull off for the night. It was more just to share your misery, since it loves company and all that.

But that wind — you could feel it in your bones. The old heating unit underneath the shitty caulking job stood no chance at combating the chill of the room, and the fact that the sheets on this pull-out couch bed were threadbare and withheld no fucking body heat at all had you shivering in your pajamas. If there were ever a time you wished you’d listened to your friends when they told you that nice, fluffy, matching PJ sets were the best, it was now. But you ran hot when you slept – not that it mattered when it was -15 degrees outside and a balmy 5 inside.

“I wonder if Jake and Sam have it any better,” Josh said softly from the bed. When flipping coins, you’d unfortunately come up with tails, meaning that the master suite would not be yours for the night when you were forced to pull the van into a horror-movie motel to avoid killing all five of you on black ice. You were so close to the cabin the boys had booked, too – so close – but the ice storm had rolled in just as the sun went down, and you, along with several other drivers, apparently, had to make due with the rooms available at Cockroach Central.

Jake and Sam in the single Queen, and you, Josh, and Danny in this crappy ‘Queen sized with a pull out couch’ icebox.

“I doubt it,” Danny sighed, voice deep with interrupted sleep.

You weren’t surprised that he’d found the ability to sleep, even with the ice hitting the windowpane and your breath crystallizing in the air; he always had that ability, Danny. But as another gust of icy wind shook the windows, and you felt the subsequent cool air permeate your already-cold cocoon, you let out a barely audible whimper-groan.

You didn’t think it was loud enough for the boys to hear, but apparently you were underestimating how small the room was. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

The next noise that came out of your mouth was frustrated, and it wasn’t directed at Josh for asking, but you’d taken the last shift driving and you were exhausted, except now it didn’t seem as if you’d be getting any sleep at all. “I’m freezing,” you admitted, and you heard immediate shuffling from the bed.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Danny asked from above. “Come over here and get warm, dummy.”

But you hesitated. You knew that the boys would give you the shirt off their back if you asked for it, but you didn’t want them to sacrifice their own comfort and sleep for you – it was one night, after all, and they had been cooped up in the van just as long as you had. “I mean…is there even room up there?” you asked, still sorely tempted to join them, despite your pause. “I don’t want to kick you guys out of bed.”

“We’ll make it work,” came Josh’s voice next. “We grew up shoving as many people in a bed as we could, Y/N, come on.”

And, well, twist your arm. You pushed your thin blankets off and scurried over to the bigger bed, which had a mattress that retained heat and two other bodies to contribute to the task of keeping you warm.

“Oh my god,” you groaned blissfully, teeth still chattering as you settled into the space between them that they made, citing ‘maximum warmth’ when you’d told them you’d be fine taking the edge. “If I’d known you guys were living space heaters, we’d have been sharing a bed from the start.”

Josh’s hand crept over your hip from where he’d instantly wound himself around you under the blankets. The cuddling wasn’t new — Josh was a tactile person on his worst days, and a cuddle buddy was a cuddle buddy. But the way he was vigorously rubbing his hand up and down your body was ruffling your sleep shirt, Danny, on just the other side of you, was going to be pressed against exposed skin if he didn’t stop soon. “Shit, Y/N– even your pajamas are cold.”

“I know,” you sighed, smacking your lips together in contentment. If you’d been a cat, it would’ve been a purr as you began to feel your feet again. “I’ve been shivering in them since we got here.”

Not to be left out, Danny crossed one big hand over Josh’s arm to feel for himself, and your breath stuttered a bit. It wasn’t as if you were immune to their talent and good spirits, and you had eyes — you knew your friends were an attractive bunch. But you never let your fantasies run too amuck; you were an avid sleep talker, and you’d never recover if something slipped out while your dreams took you places you dared not think about during the day.

Places like here, plastered against both Josh and Danny while they warmed you up. Perhaps not in the way you wanted in your limited fantasies, but you were nevertheless in bed with them, their hands all over your body. You hummed at the contact, shifting your shoulders to shake some of the energy they brought with their touch off.

“Why’d you wait so long to tell us you were cold?” Danny asked, lips so close to your ear he barely had to murmur for you to hear. That distance was soon made even scarcer, as Danny tugged Josh closer on your other side so that you were all three a mess of tangled limbs, cuddling to keep every ounce of warmth between you.

You shrugged with the space you did have, and tried to turn on your side towards Danny, your ass already becoming numb. You were a side sleeper, anyways, so you’d end up in that position regardless. The two men adjusted with you, Josh pushing forward to melt against your back while Danny pushed back and let you get comfortable before assuming his position again, nearly brushing your nose with his.

At this point, you were glad the lights had shorted out, because at least there was a chance Danny didn’t notice either your blush or your surprise that he’d rebounded back in so close. You had no choice but to ball up your hands and let them rest against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths from the front, and Josh’s from your back.

“Um…I told you. I didn’t know if there would be enough space.”

Josh chuckled against the back of your neck, making you shiver – but this time, not from the cold. “Well, here’s your proof. There’s always room for you, Y/N.”

“Good to know,” you squeaked, growing embarrassed at how much just the simple pressure of their bodies against yours was making you wet. You knew you couldn’t blame yourself – it’d been a few days since you were alone enough to get yourself off, and this was the first time you’d been in an actual bed since you’d left for this spontaneous cabin getaway with the boys. And when you were in a bed, your body demanded orgasms; it was something of a Pavlovian response at this point.

Now you’d be tired and horny in the morning, but at least you wouldn’t be cold. Although you were beginning to question which was worse.

Danny’s lips quirked up, and you squeezed your eyes shut. He’d most certainly heard the change in pitch of your voice, and you felt a chuckle rumble shake his chest and escape as a breath through his nose. “That was cute,” he breathed. “Is there something the matter?”

Josh’s hips shifted back, and his lips were at your ear, next. “He’s right. I can feel your heartbeat from your back, Y/N. What’s going on?” His words had turned sultry in a matter of seconds, and your face burned, feeling a little foolish for thinking that they wouldn’t be able to feel what they were doing to you in their proximity.

Although, the response other than a serious ribbing from the both of them was unexpected. You’d have expected them to make fun of you, not do…whatever this was. Unless this was their way of teasing you (not in the good way). “Fuck you guys,” you mumbled. It was a cruel joke either way, and you were beginning to wish that you’d just layered up and stayed in that stupid pull-out bed.

Danny caught your chin with the knuckle of his pointer finger, and tipped your face up to his. “Oh yeah? Is that what you want?”

Every function screeched to a halt, and you couldn’t find the words to answer.

They were serious? This wasn’t a joke? They wanted to fuck you – together, in the same bed – just because they’d felt your heartrate pick up a bit and your breathing become uneven?

Josh rolled his hips into you again, and you were suddenly made aware that he was hard in his flannel pants. Hard and warm against your ass, in such a good way that you couldn’t help but press back into him. You were rewarded with a small groan and the feeling of his fingers tightening on your hips. “Shit, Y/N. Don’t do that unless you’re gonna answer Danny.”

“I…yes?”

“Yes? Like, a question? Or, ‘yes,’ for sure?”

The situation was evolving very quickly, but you must have been hornier than you imagined you’d be, because it was difficult to find reasons to decline their generous offer. “For sure,” you said, tucking your lip between your teeth as you waited on baited breath to find out what that answer would bring.

Like racehorses let out of the gate, the response was whip-quick, and you gasped as that lip you’d held captive was dragged from its place by Danny’s mouth, and Josh groaned, “Oh thank god,” before tugging your hips back into his erection. “You’ve got us wrapped around your finger, Y/N, you had to have known what your little noises would do to us.”

“Little noises?” you gasped out, hand reaching up to tangle in Danny’s wild curls as he began to nip across your jaw. “You mean…normal ones?”

Danny pulled back, and his absence was missed, but the sight of him shucking his shirt off was a welcome one. “Caught,” he said with a smirk. “It’s just you. You drive us crazy, no matter what you do or where you do it.”

The sentiment was cheesy at best, but you chose to disregard that fact in favor of letting Josh drag your own shirt off your body, too. “Yes, yes,” he said impatiently, fingers crawling over your bare skin, stopped only by the sports bra you wore, “we’ve been thirsting over you, sweet thing. I’ve thought about this beautiful body of yours so many times. In the still of the night,” he whispered, slipping under the flimsy material covering your breasts, “when I can’t help myself. Like right now.”

You let a small noise slip out as he softly rubbed his thumb over your nipple. It wasn’t enough for them, though, and Danny quickly nudged Josh’s hand. “Let us see you. Josh wasn’t the only one thinking dirty, filthy thoughts when it came to you,” Danny said, laid back down so that the blankets were once again keeping the rising heat in.

Your sports bra came off, and you wriggled out of your pants, as well, knowing that they would be one of the next items on the list, and then you were naked. Naked, and Danny was naked, too, and when you settled back in, you realized that Josh’s cock was now hard and hot and leaking against your ass, meaning that he rounded the company out, and it was officially a threesome.

Josh backed up, though, so that Danny could put you on your back and trail kisses down your throat until he reached your breasts. You mewled when he took your nipple into his mouth, and it seemed that broke Josh, as he put a hand on the base of his dick and squeezed. Your noises must have actually done it for him. “Mmmm, Danny,” you sighed, foot sliding up the mattress in pleasure. Danny shifted so that he was straddling your thigh, and he ground down once, his cock twitching against your skin.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured against your skin. “Are you soft everywhere, I wonder?”

His words were the only warning you got before his fingers slipped between your lips and spread your wetness across your pussy. “Oh, yeah,” he groaned. “Soft and so fucking wet. Josh, feel how wet our girl is.”

Josh didn’t need any more prompting, and he joined Danny between your thighs, his fingers side-by-side with Danny’s thicker, coarser ones. Your whimper and squirms were met with an intensified touch – Josh took the plunge and dipped a singular digit into your entrance, and you felt as though you’d combust if things didn’t progress soon.

“Soft and wet,” Josh agreed, his finger pressing forward and pulling back gently. “Finally get to feel you, Y/N. How do you like to play, sweet thing?”

Danny hummed, still mouthing over your stomach. “Did you like it when we played with your pretty little tits? Or do you like Josh’s finger inside you better?”

You were becoming frustrated with their sudden slow-down after taking advantage of the whole bed situation so quickly. “I like them both– I just need more,” you whined, your pussy clenching around Josh’s finger as you tried to fuck yourself faster. “Come on, guys, I know you can do better.” You switched tactics on them, goading instead of whining, and Danny chuckled against your skin.

“More?” he asked, looking at Josh. “What do you think, Josh– wanna fill her up a bit? Add a couple of fingers?”

Josh answered in action, fitting a second finger in beside the first and upping the speed, angling his fingertips to run along your walls until he found that sweet spot inside of you. You gasped and bucked your hips, but Danny held you down gently.

“Shit– right there, Josh!” you affirmed, stilling so that he could focus on that spot.

The lights suddenly flickered back on, and everything paused as you took in the now lit-up scene with blown-pupil eyes. You all three blinked at each other, drinking in the finer details. Finally, Danny’s lips quirked up in a smirk and he pressed a kiss to your hip while Josh continued fingering you.

Josh’s next words weren’t directed at you; he’d heard you, and he wasn’t budging on his positioning, but instead, he met Danny’s eyes and smiled, which you barely caught with your eyes fluttering shut as they were. “Better, she says,” he scoffed, gently mocking your nettling. “If there’s anything I’ve learned about better, it’s that fingers are always better with a mouth. Daniel, care to assist since you’re already down there?”

“More than happy to,” Danny said with a shark-like grin, and your lips trembled with a moan as you watched him converge with Josh’s fingers, then felt his tongue envelope your clit, rolling pressure and darting around in circles like a pro.

This man knew what he was fucking doing.

“Hot fuck, you guys,” you keened, their combined efforts quickly uncovering your growing orgasm. “Have you– ahh– you done this before?” you asked shakily, vacillating between closing your eyes to take in the sensations and watching them both work between your legs.

Josh and Danny shared an amused glance, and you realized that the question wasn’t as pointed as you meant it to be – you’d be the first to claim that you weren’t in the state of mind to care, but you also found it in you to roll your eyes when Josh said, “Yeah, a couple of times,” for the both of them, since Danny’s mouth was occupied, his lips suctioned around you.

“I meant together.”

Josh chuckled and then pinched his pinky and thumb together so that he could bind his middle three and slowly delve them into you underneath where Danny was. “No. But we did talk about it when we got drunk together once. Only once,” he assured quickly, “we didn’t, like, plan this all out beforehand. The opportunity presented itself, though, and you seemed into it…”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Seemed?”

“Touché,” he said, three knuckles deep into your wet core and building a steady rhythm that pushed you higher and higher.

Danny’s contributions were exacerbated when he grasped the undersides of your thighs and pressed his face into you as hard as he could while still trying to avoid taking away Josh’s ability to finger you.

“Ah– ah,” you croaked, back arching as the coil grew tighter. “Guys, I’m gonna– fuck me, I’m right there; I’m gonna cum, just keep going!”

“No need to tell us twice, sweet thing,” Josh cooed. “Come on, now, let go. You can cum pretty all over my fingers, all over Danny’s mouth. Show us how you do it. God, you look so beautiful,” he babbled, fingers working faster inside of you as you cried out once more and fell off the edge of the cliff.

You fisted the sheets with one hand, and with the other, you pushed Danny’s head away, spasming with overstimulation as he kept sucking you up even as you came down. “Danny– that’s a lot,” you gasped, hips twitching from the force of the orgasm.

He listened, and pulled away just as Josh withdrew his soaked fingers, rubbing them together and then spreading them apart, where they webbed with your release. As Josh brought them towards his face, Danny caught him by the wrist and beat him to the punchline, his lips – still glistening with your cum as well – wrapping around Josh’s digits and sucking them clean.

A shock of arousal shot through you at the sight, and you were liable to fall apart and never be put back together again when Danny popped the fingers out of his mouth and was immediately pulled into a searching kiss afterwards. Josh’s hands remained firm, one on the side of Danny’s neck, and the other tangling with Danny’s at his side. He was smirking when he pulled away, and the side-eye he sent your way told you that he was aware of what he was doing to you, how he was playing you.

Like a damn fiddle.

“You taste like an angel,” Danny remarked, turning his attention back to you. “Doesn’t even matter where I get you from.”

“Come here,” you huffed, guiding him into another kiss, this time pushing your tongue into his mouth, as if you could taste the remnants of all three of you together. You could feel the tip of his cock catching your tummy every so often, though, in the hovering position he was in, and the desire you had to be dicked down by these men returned in full force. “Fuck me, Danny,” you breathed against his lips. “I want you inside me. Please.”

“Shit,” he cursed gently, lowering himself so that he was covering every inch of you from head to toe. You were totally encompassed in him, so you wrapped your legs around his waist to lock him in.

Josh looked on, slowly stroking his own cock to find relief. “Go on, Dan,” he encouraged. “Give it to her like she’s asking.”

“Begging,” Danny corrected, running his thick head through the result of their sloppy-wet work. “I’ll fuck you so good,” he promised, lining up with your entrance. “Get you to cum again for us so that I can see this time. I can’t just miss out on feeling you clench around some part of me.”

You popped your hips up, trying to get him to slide into you (it would have been easy enough with how wet you were from your last orgasm). “I’ll cum for you,” you keened impatiently, “but I need you to actually fuck me first.”

Josh snorted. “Still a little spitfire even with a dick in you, aren’t you?”

You were about to retort that there wasn’t a dick in you yet, when Danny finally pushed past the initial resistance that served as a reminder that you really hadn’t taken much more than your fingers and a small vibrator recently. He was substantially bigger than yours or Josh’s fingers, even three of them.

“Yeah,” he hissed, throwing his head back as he eased in. “Open up for me, angel; let me in that pretty, pink heaven.”

Josh laid down beside you, plastered to the length of your body as you wrapped your legs around Danny’s waist and encouraged him to start moving. The hand that wasn’t still stroking himself snaked up your body to pinch and play with your nipples as your breasts jiggled in time with each new punch of Danny’s hips to yours.

You could smell Josh, so close to you, even beyond the scent of sex that was slowly permeating the air around you. “Danny fucks like a god,” you whimpered to no one in particular, barely holding onto your sanity as you were filled to the brim time and time again.

Danny’s grip on your hips tightened at your praise, and your attention was yanked back to the man currently rearranging your guts in the middle of the night in a crappy motel while one of his best friends waited his turn. “Say it to my face.”

You met his heavy-lidded gaze, and reached up to him. He leaned into your palm, and you smiled at him. “You are crazy good at lighting me up, Daniel Wagner.”

“Warm her up, make her burn, ” Josh murmured, leaning over to replace his fingers with his tongue.

With the warm, wet swirl around your nipples and Danny’s hand making its way to press down on your lower stomach, changing up the angle that he hit inside you, you were more than close to your second orgasm. “Feel that, Y/N?” Danny huffed, slowing to grab your hand and push it to where he’d been a moment earlier. “Feel how fucking deep I am?”

Maybe it was because you wanted to feel him, or perhaps you weren’t imaging it at all, but you could have sworn that each time Danny’s hips smacked into yours and he sheathed himself balls-deep, you felt him nudge the heel of your hand where it impressed into your stomach. Regardless of whether you could with that hand, though, you could certainly feel him in other ways, so you whined and nodded, focused on the sensations.

“God, you take me so well, Angel. Wanna live here,” he whimpered, hips stuttering as he joined you on the precipice.

“In a shitty motel?” Josh joked, re-inserting himself into the situation. “Or so far up Y/N’s cunt she’s gonna have a hard time thinking about anything else for the rest of the trip?”

Danny panted, hot and loud, and grunted as he embodied his livelihood: rhythm, reliability, and consistency in each slide into you bringing you both closer and closer to the edge. “The second one.”

Josh nodded, slipping his fingers down to circle your clit, obviously reaching the end of his patience and no longer willing to wait his turn . “That’s what I thought. Can’t blame either of you, really,” he sighed, pushing himself up on one arm to kiss whatever breath Danny had left in his lungs away.

Even then, Danny didn’t falter, and his steady thrusts soon paid off. You both gave into the pressure, and Danny yipped out his orgasm against Josh’s lips, topping it off with a deep groan as he emptied himself into you, shallowly pumping himself through it before he collapsed onto his forearms, lips brushing yours as he caught his breath.

“Are you ready to take Josh?” he whispered, pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth before you could answer.

“Before that, actually,” Josh interjected, moving in closer and encasing you in their body heat again now that the chill was creeping back in and cooling your sweat quickly, “I’m gonna need you to move off our sweet Y/N, here. There’s something else I’d like to do before I get to follow in Big Dick Dan’s footsteps.”

His hand was running up and down Danny’s bare back, and you felt the rumble of laughter rise from Danny’s chest, so there was no surprise when a laugh that was a little too loud escaped his face, now crinkled up in joy. “I swear they don’t call me that. I’ve never heard that nickname in my life,” he giggled, and Josh pursed his lips exaggeratedly from beside you.

“Not to your face, maybe.”

Danny did as Josh asked, though, and gingerly pulled himself out of you, sighing as he finally rested his entire weight on the bed at your side. Josh quickly took his place, eyes roving over your lower half and then meeting yours once he apparently found what he was looking for.

Making his way down your body, he wet his lips. “Let’s see if you still taste as Danny has so lovingly named you, Angel,” Josh said, lowering himself to fit in between your thighs. He wasted no time in spreading you apart and lapping you up with the flat of his tongue, catching the slow drip of Danny’s cum as it leaked out of you.

The gasp that flew out of your mouth sounded offended, almost, and Danny’s fingertips dug into the skin of your arm, where he’d been caressing a few seconds earlier.

“Fuuuuck,” Danny rumbled, low and long. “How’s his mouth feel, Angel? Is it as good as it always looks onstage?”

You moaned with your lips sealed shut, pushing your hips into Josh’s mouth. “Better,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed. You stayed like that, with Danny reaching up to stroke your nipples and kiss your neck while Josh ate you out enthusiastically, slurping and sucking until he had his fill and came up for breath.

He looked slightly crazed, pawing desperately at your thighs while he rocked his hips, cock catching the sheets in a way that must have been driving him insane.

“Come on, Josh,” Danny cooed, pulling your leg over so that you were laying on your side, spread for Josh since Danny hooked you in his elbow. “You’ve gotta be so hard. Give it to her. She’s got another one in her, right, Y/N?”

You bit down into Danny’s shoulder as you nodded, then met Josh’s gaze. “Come on, Josh, come and take me higher. Get us in the fast lane.”

Josh positioned himself behind you, cuddling as you had been at the beginning of the night, but now you were much warmer, and much more fatigued. As he shakily guided himself to your entrance, slicking up the tip of his dick with what he’d left behind, he pushed in slowly and said, “You have us for the entire night, angel, no need to rush.”

“Yeah,” Danny hummed against your open lips, spread in the ecstasy of being stretched once more, “no need to rush at all. We need to keep you warm all night.”

…

Jake and Sam were already waiting for you in the lobby when Josh and Danny had managed to drag themselves out of bed. Considering they hadn’t been the ones fucked half to death until the sky began to lighten, you were unsympathetic to their whines about being tired, and were quite proud that you managed to walk all by yourself without the assistance of a wheelchair.

Sam caught sight of you first and waved you over, looking restless and jumpy and ready to leave. “This motel sucks. The coffee is cold and I’m pretty sure from last year, so I’d skip it,” he huffed.

Sam wasn’t a huge coffee drinker, so the fact that he’d been desperate enough to try coffee from the ancient-looking carafe was a surefire sign that he hadn’t slept well either.

For entirely different reasons than you, Danny, and Josh, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You seem a little grumpy,” you smirked. You saw recognition on his face and turned to see Danny and Josh finally stepping out of the stairwell, since the elevators didn’t work.

“Yeah, because I couldn’t fucking sleep when it was in the negative inside the room. Were you guys freezing last night like Jake and I were?”

You doubted the others would need much convincing to stop for breakfast and coffee, so you just shrugged your bag over your shoulder, shook your head innocently, and smiled. “Nope,” you said lightly. “I was toasty all night long.”

~~~

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