#i get kinda surprised if its emotional infidelity from her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

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You go to my head, like a summer with a thousand Julys

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Summary: THE BEGINNING of the Sarge and lil Mama universe

Warnings: fantasizing about breeding a young woman, masturbation with a stuffed animal, antiquated gender norms, slight grooming (I don’t know what else to call it even though it’s really not that and no one is under age) mentions of parental death, slightly manipulative Elvis, emotional infidelity on Elvis’ part towards his current girlfriends

Circa: 1954-57 due to playing fast and loose with the historical timeline of both Elvis’ basic training and Gladys’ death

Elvis Presley is an affectionate young man, he has a sweetness about him in all his interactions, and while he is famous and you don’t know him well he is devastatingly warm and you enjoy his attentions. He comes to your father’s studio often and he is affectionate when he does.

An affectionate acquaintance is what he is, he remains as such in a tidy little world where he hugs you during his visits and holds onto your waist as he chows down on the sandwiches you bring as refreshment for his Memphis Mafia. And there is nothing more to be said or thought. You learn to burn the bacon bound for his BLT because you like the way his eyes widen when it hits his tongue and how he groans around a bite:

“Honey, you shouldn’t’ve”.

In the coming months you learn to leave off the lettuce, too, once he’s back from touring again. Back to make another record, more juice for the machine and your father is gleeful at the unprecedented success of one of his artists. He took a chance on him and now Elvis’ life is fast, so very fast and the faces blur for him, blonde and brown and black and all of them want something he doesn’t quite feel like he can live up to.

It gets so bad he begs Wanda one night on tour just to sit with him, let him put his arm around her and just sit. When he walks back into the studio after months away and finds you there, it’s quieting. He hugs you and you smile and ask him how he is and it’s slow and steady and nice. He doesn’t have to manufacture calm with you, you are calm incarnate.

New songs mean new stages and life gets fast again. It happens like that more than a couple times. He feels older than twenty two when he’s blowing out as many candles atop a birthday cake on a movie set, his mother’s usual homemade creation missing and some fancy icinged concoction in its place. It doesn’t sit right in his belly and he tosses and turns that night wanting to be home.

Home is Memphis, the recording studio is there but he hasn’t gone yet, he takes a few days just to soak up Graceland and eat his mother’s food.

It doesn’t matter as you are not absent in his home, his mother speaks of you the first morning he is home. He shovels eggs into his mouth as she praises how you’ve grown up this summer, how you’ve been helping out at the church and took a part time job at the hospital. He’s not surprised, your father is a good fella, your mother of even better character and some kids are just born sweet -that’s how people like you get made, he figures. His mother assures him you’ve not grown into a career woman, she seems very insistent on how you’re just filling your time till you get married. She’s talked with you about it. And Elvis figures this is going down the road of how Billy and you would make a good match, and he wants to tell his mother you’re too much of a kid to be messed with by someone like Billy.

He doesn’t expect her to say, “She’s a good one Booby, the sort of girl who is bright and smart but would be happiest taking care of a man. Some gals are just built for that life, not that you’ll meet many on the road like that. But y/n? She’d make a good wife and even better mother, probably won’t really bloom until she’s had a baby. Some girls are just like that, kinda plain until they start opening up….”

The rest is lost in a blur. He is tired. It’s a perfect excuse considering he just came home. But when he goes to nap he cannot think of anything but you. You swollen and blooming with his child. You are younger in his memory, and it hits wrong. He gets angry at himself for thinking of you that way and ludicrously enraged at the suspicion anyone else might be, too.

Seeing you again will cure him, he knows that. He’ll hug you and you’ll ask him how he is and he’ll be reminded that you’re his old friend’s daughter and he’ll recall why he never bothered messing around with you. You’re steady and calm and nothing like this frantic emotion he suddenly feels at the thought of you opening up because of him… he stops trying to nap and goes to the shooting range instead.

Elvis Presley is reserved. The hug you anticipate never materializes as he steps through the door of the studio, and there is no cheeky grin when you ask him how touring was. He doesn’t smile or say much, he doesn't try to touch you at all, he is reserved. You feel cold.

But he watches. He watches you when he thinks you can’t see him, but the glass reflects and you notice his blazing eyes behind the microphone.

This has been happening to you more and more lately, men staring when they think you don’t see. Your mama says it’s because of your pretty smile. She has no answer when you tell her it happens even when you do not smile at all. You are not smiling now as you are confused, confused why he watches you like he wants to reach out to you and yet treats you like he does not, like the familiarity he usually wears like a second skin has been shed, lost somewhere on the road. Maybe he has a girl, you reason, and while that never affected his behavior before, maybe she’s a Hollywood one and a jealous type. Maybe he’s sad and tired like he says he is. He doesn’t eat the cookies you make. His voice breaks often and the session is scrapped early.

He hugs you sideways as he leaves and mumbles that he’s heard you’ve been keeping busy. You tell him you have and watch for some glimmer of approval. He stares at your lips and then flees outside to the sidewalk. Your father asks if you know what’s gotten into him. You do not.

That night, alone in his bed, he tosses and turns and refuses to touch the ache between his legs. You’d looked at him so earnestly that afternoon, trying to solve him and all he could think of was -you’re grown now. Bleeding every month, settling into a bra size, probably waking up with slick between your legs, your breasts getting sore and you don’t know why. Don’t know that all these things are happening to you so that a man can plough you open, pump you full and plant a garden inside you. He ought to be that man. He has the power to stop your bleeding, make your slick become a fountain and make you swell, filling the emptiness you register but do not understand.

He grabs the massive teddy bear sitting in the corner of his room. A fan gift, juvenile for a fellow well passed such toys, but he appreciates the thought. He appreciates the way the fur parts and rubs his weeping tip as he lays atop it and humps it miserably, pretending it’s you, pretending it’s somehow better to splatter all over synthetic fur at the thought of shocking you with his passion instead of touching himself to the thought of you swollen and dripping. He comes with a shout buried into the shoulder of the bear and registers in agony that his stiffness hasn’t gone down. He rolls over and calls up his costar. Tries to remind himself of that first, bubbly taste of a glamorous woman. She indulges him and he hates it, hates knowing what they both know: that he’s one of many, that she’d never in a million years risk her career to carry his child.

Thanksgiving morning you work alongside Gladys on the buffet line at the Methodist Children’s outreach and you ask her about her absent son. She worries for him, makes you worry in turn, is glad to have a companion in fretting, someone who understands why she can’t just “enjoy the ride.” You admit you’ve noticed a change in him. The buffet runs out of baked beans. Your mother says she’ll drive over and grab more from the market. It’s icy outside on the roads, your mother never comes back.

Your house is full to bursting that night, full of well meaning people who skip their Thanksgiving dinners to file past you and your father in a long line, awkwardly patting your arms and clasping his shoulder. They talk in subdued, measured tones about heaven and time and how they can’t imagine what you’re going through. Their restraint sets the tone for your grieving, you are subdued and rational until alone at dawn, clasping your pillow and sobbing, listening to your father do the same over the muffled noise of the TV.

When someone tells you that you’re the “woman of the house now” it feels like you’ve betrayed her again. It doesn’t sit right in your belly. You are sick with it, can’t eat from it churning in your gut, ironically you want mother to comfort you for her loss.

He comes back to Memphis in time for the funeral. He comes over to the house early, it doesn’t matter as neither you or your father sleep. Upon crossing the threshold, Elvis Presley does not awkwardly pat your father, clasp his hand or encourage him to be strong. He folds your father into a hug and doesn't let go for sometime, not until your father has wept for what he’s lost and Elvis meets your eyes over his shoulder, and he looks like he knows how this feels, like this is his worst nightmare you’re living. He is not removed from your pain, he dreads it and yet he partakes of it with you both. Gladys has brought a pot roast, she smoothes your hair back like she does her son’s before putting the meal in the oven, going back out to speak with your father.

Elvis’ eyes are watery when he approaches you, his freedom of emotion gives you courage to let loose, you sob, you wail and you babble and he cradles your head against his shoulder, swaying you in the middle of your mother’s kitchen as he mutters,

“that’s it, that’s it, you loved her didn’t ya?”

It’s the truest thing anyone has said all day.

He sits you down at the kitchen table and brushes your hair, powders your nose, brings you your black leather heels, holds out your coat for you to slip on. It’s not until years later you realize he must have taken the liberty of rummaging through your room to procure those items. It is odd that it was not his mother who took charge of such things.

At the graveside you are presentable in the manner in which he crafted you, your image is sad and tragic, but dignified and evocative.

Mother is buried in a coffin he bought, six feet under a plot of land he purchased, with a space next to it for your father when his time comes. There is no third space, and once the dirt is heaped over her you wonder where you’ll rest your bones, why he didn’t think to provide you a place in the earth, too. Your father calls him “a good boy” as the wind kicks up and the mourners disperse.

You ride back to the reception at your house, wedged snugly between Elvis and Anita. She hands you a monogrammed hanky in the back seat and it smells like rosewater. She sweetly lets you hold her hand and it’s icy from the cruel November wind while Elvis burns your right side, his arm thrown back behind your head and some thrumming turmoil roiling beneath his flushed skin. You can see the pulse thumping in his neck, above the fuzzy upturned collar of his coat and you instinctively press your free hand to it, trying to calm the flutter. He jolts at your touch and the vessel only pounds harder.

“You sick?” you ask him as your hand feels his sweaty skin. It’s wintertime and everybody at the hospital has come down with bugs and he feels like he’s raging with a fever. He doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping much either, he gets those same dark circles under his eyes as Gladys. They’ve both got them lately. Death has made you paranoid, you know.

“Nah, m’fine, it’s just from cryin.” he takes your hand down and holds it. Anita let’s go of yours, to open the car door as you arrive.

Whoever made it tradition for the bereaved family to have their house swamped by the community right after burying a loved one must've never known the bone deep desire to curl up and just process it all. Alone. So you stand again for hours and let them file past and it’s all very much the same as the other days and your stomach is in knots but you behave how your mother would’ve wanted, only occasionally sneaking off to the kitchen to load the emptying cheese trays and to just breathe. It goes on for hours, your feet ache and your throat is dry.

You escape back to the chilly sunroom to sit down for a minute and find him there, alone, sat on the wicker sofa and thumbing at one of your mother’s gardening books. If it were anyone else that would feel like a violation but since it’s him, it feels like he’s just trying to get to know her. And you appreciate that.

“Have you eaten, honey?” he asks you and nods at the apron you’ve donned as you just stand there and take him in.

“Uh, no, I’m not hungry.” you wave his frown away.

“Sit down honey, runnin’ yourself ragged like this.” and he pats the small space of cushion beside him as you think about your guests, think about how nice it would be to just relax with someone who values silence, but you can’t, you’ve gotta go back and host, it’s the right thing to do.

Except that his hand encircles your wrist and tugs and you go limply, folding into his side and he shouldn’t feel so warm, so safe, so right -you don’t know him that well. But he wears his heart on his sleeve and it’s bleeding for you and you suppose that puts you two ahead of a lot of so-called friends.

“They can eat sandwiches and make themselves feel compassionate without you hurtin those little feet any longer.” he declares and pulls you into his lap, tipping you back to cradle you like a baby, his hands running down your legs until they meet your ankles and he’s pulling off your heels with finality.

You’ve never had a boy touch you like this, you’ve never pressed your cheek against a hard chest and felt the thump, thump of a masculine heart radiate through your limbs. But he’s so final about it all, and so certain and so at ease you feel foolish for gasping and shuddering at the famillairties he takes as he rubs one hurting arch of your foot and then the other. He’s got an authority about him tonight you’d never noticed before, and you’d as soon question your pastor on a point of doctrine as question Elvis Presley on the propriety of rocking you to sleep, yards away from a substantial amount of Memphis’ most devout population.

Your last thought as you drift off is that you hope Anita understands you're just a kid to him, you hope you’re not shaming your mother on the very night of her funeral by tucking your head into his shoulder and sleeping for the first time since she died. Your stomach unwinds, your breathing evens out and your legs fall apart in your sleep, you dream of plush lips dragging along your forehead. You wake in the morning curled around a pillow, snug in your own bed, rested. Father tells you Elvis carried you up there himself before he left.

“He’s a good boy.” you agree with Father at breakfast.

He hadn’t felt boyish when he’d wrapped you in his arms. And you hadn’t felt girlish either, for all that you had been rocked and petted. Your stomach stays loose and molten for a few more hours before the grief catches up again and the newly empty house plagues you.

That’s why they invite the crowds in after a death, it takes half the city to make up for a single loved one’s absence.

You flee from the haunted space, longer shifts at the hospital and longer hours at the shelters. At night you sit and feed father your mother’s recipes, ask each other about the other’s day as if any of that matters now.

The Memphis division of the March of Dimes Charity approaches you to replace your mother on the board. Hustling you into your new position and entrusting you with the Christmas organizations all before the holiday itself is unheard of and rushed, but it all makes sense once you hear a doner put in a good word for you, requesting you be put in charge. There’s no bigger or quieter doner than Elvis Presley, so when he speaks up and asks for a thing -it happens.

Mere hours before catching a train to New York, he pops in to the event and makes the room shimmer with his presence, he kisses cheeks, chats with everyone and tosses kids who’ve been treated like glass up in the air, making them laugh for the first time in months. He signs ever so many posters and records and casts and he watches you all the while. The way you host and rustle about in your black heels and plaid taffeta crinoline as the function you put on runs like a well oiled machine. It doesn’t feel like a Christmas event without mistletoe or dancing, but it’s still a damn fine shindig, he’ll give ya that. And he notices what he suspected: when you’re busy working those grieving furrows of your brow clear and he finds he can breathe easier.

Before he leaves to catch his night train you get pulled into a photograph with him, poofy skirt crushed against his leg, arms helping balance a massive cake as he holds a kid who seems to think you want to eat globs of frosting off his fingers. You’re not about to deny a five year old boy in crutches so you slurp it off laughingly and the cameras capture Elvis watching that hungrily. The cake, not your pink tongue languorously licking white icing…

You walk him to the door and he leaves you in the warm glow of the charity function surrounded by children and folks you’re making feel welcome as only you can, and he boards the damn train that ships his ass to New York, calling Anita dutifully before slumping into the narrow bed and wringing his cock out to the thought of marrying you and keeping you full of him all your days.

You go on the date with Billy cause you figure it will get your mind off your grief and he tells you he wants one last happy memory before he leaves everything familiar and gets shipped across the world to get killed. Billy is being dramatic, as there’s no war on right now, but the draft is an atrocity all the same and you don’t mind giving Billy one last happy memory. Something in you has been curious about men since that night Elvis forced you to sleep on him by sheer masculine authority alone. You curl around your pillow at night and pretend it’s him, or someone, a man, you think. You pretend it’s a man.

You think it must be missing your mother that’s done this to you, she’d have kept you distracted but without her, and your father a reticent shell of himself, it makes sense you’re lonely and craving some stability, someone to tell you how it’s gonna be.

Billy isn’t exactly that, he can’t even decide on where to take you for this date, it’s up to you to suggest places, finally landing on the drive-in theater. It’s safe but mature enough to be a little thrilling. He doesn’t own a car so you drive in the car Elvis bought you when you became a March of Dimes board member. Father sets a curfew, and you try to soothe your nerves at the notion you might feel a man again tonight, your curiosity peaked and eager.

The theater lot is strangely empty when y’all arrive and you wonder if maybe Billy called in a favor. Halfway through the film you feel Billy’s hand on your thigh and you shudder and respond in kind, just a gentle resting on his own, but this spurs him on, soon he is ignoring the film altogether and fumbling to get under your velvet skirt and that’s a little surprising. You’re processing whether you like this or not when he leans over, pulls down your fur collar and glues his mouth to your neck like a pufferfish to the side of a tank. It’s not very romantic but it makes you flush and it shocks you and you like that. More shocking still is the blinding light that suddenly pierces the nighttime seclusion of your car cab, and there at your window is Elvis Presley wielding a police grade flashlight directly into your eyes, smiling like a shark against the glass.

“How’s it goin kids?” he grins, his breath frosting the frigid glass.

“Elvis, I-I- I’m on a date.” You laugh while stating the obvious.

“I know, I know,” he nods, opening your door and sliding in next to you, gently shoving you till he’s in front of the wheel and you're wedged in the middle, “Bill here told me you were handin out free dates to poor drafted boys, so I’m here for mine.”

“You’ve been drafted, too?” you cry out, Billy quite forgotten, “They’ll not make you with-“

-with his career you mean, but he gives you a pout and nod and that’s that. So is the way his arm slides around you and pulls you closer and you feel like you’re in the middle of a contest you didn’t sign up for. “I’ll miss you boys.” you sigh.

“Aww, you’re sweet honey, ain’t she sweet, Billy? She taste sweet, too?”

Billy mumbles something under his breath about not getting the chance and you realize Elvis has his hand gripping the poor kid’s neck.

“Elvis you're being rude.” you chide meekly.

“Nah, it’s rude to kiss a lady’s neck with so little finesse as Bill was yours, that’s what’s rude.” Elvis declares and you get that feeling again of being unable to question him. You just hush and stay put until the credits roll and he offers Billy a ride home which the kid accepts. He drives your car and you don’t bother protesting when he drops Billy off with a:

“See ya in the barracks, bucko!”

It’s rude and cocky and no one’s ever fought over you before and while you don’t appreciate him interrupting your exploration of a male specimen, it’s rather nice to matter a little to Elvis Presley. It’s heady and makes your heart thump and your legs feel heavy and you wipe your sweaty palms on the velvet of your skirt.

“How’d you know that, that I was there?” you ask him, timid now you’re alone with him and the gentleness he once showed you isn’t present, he is gnawing on his bottom lip, leg not pressing the gas is jiggling like it does before a performance and it attracts your eye by instinct.

He’s wound up and you feel a little suffocated from the warmth rolling off him as he drives you through the dark streets, back to your home. “He asked me to clear the lot out.” he confirms your suspicion, “Then your daddy asked me to look out for ya, make sure all was right and proper.”

You are surprised and a little hurt that your father wouldn’t trust his child who has been as unfailingly upright as yourself on a movie date, more strange still that he’d trust someone as, well -loose might be a unkind word- but someone as loose as Elvis Presley to enforce morality on such a night. “I don’t believe you.” you admit barely above a whisper.

Elvis’ foot slips at your little whisper and he revs over the curb outside your house with a thump, before he curses and backs up, head cranning to look out the rear window and you wanna touch his throat.

He kills the lights and turns to you and you're so ashamed by your craving thoughts you fear he can sniff them like blood in water, figure out that you wanna run your finger down his cheek, that you wanted to touch Billy cause you’ve been curious of him. “Now honey,” he admonishes you in the still dark and it’s all you can do not to shrink against the car door under the weight of his stare, “I don’t wanna have to report to your daddy what I saw in this here cab, so why don’t you tell me why it was you were lettin’ that boy touch on you so. You was leanin in, I saw ya, you was leanin in and you liked it.”

“Elvis,” you plead, face aflame and it makes him twitch in his seat to see you squirm so, “you, Elvis you know I haven’t -this was my first date! I didn’t do nothin wrong. It was exciting, that’s all.”

He looks at you sternly and it makes you angry, you're about to resume a defense when he takes his hand off the wheel to clasp your thigh, higher up than Billy ever dared. “This feel exciting, lil one?”

Your lungs feel crushed and your thigh trembles under his hot palm, “What’re you doin?” you gasp, feeling very, very wrong and near starving for it.

“This feel right to you?” he presses, unrelenting, hand rhythmically squeezing your soft flesh and you can see father’s silhouette in his usual chair by the window, reading and oblivious.

“I said exciting.” you cleared your throat, “And I said it was when Billy did it. And he never went that- that- that high up.”

“Oh nah? Hmm, well, now that I’m there, how’s it feel, honey? Hmm?”

You squeeze your eyes shut after a moment, watching his hand creep higher and nearer to where you feel your heart beat thudding between your legs proving to be a bit much.

“Ain’t right or fittin for Limp Dick Billy to be gettin a quality girl like you excited.” he shakes his head, “Save your bosom heavin for better stuff.”

“Limp Dick -what’s that mean?” you repeat him, bewildered as your world narrows to his lush lips and the searing heat of his hand near that place you’ve grown to notice more and more lately.

“Aww that’s just, that’s nothin, just a bad name we use for fellas whose uh, well, whose hair won’t uh, won’t stand up right.”

“Not everybody can have hair like you, E.” you mumble and watch the way the lamplight makes his rings glitters against the velvet of your skirt.

That’s an admission on your part that he drinks in like a dying man, happy to have some glimmer of superiority in your mind over his fellows, and he rubs his thumb soothingly over your twitching thigh as your skirt folds dip between your legs, highlighting them perfectly. He can see the outline of your little cunt between your pressed thighs and he feels rash, feels like spreading his hand a little further and brushing his pinky there against that place he’s imagined so many times.

“Elvis,” you whisper into the silent cab, “what’re you doing?”

That’s a question for the ages and one he hasn’t got a clean answer for. “Tryin to make you excited.” he admits.

“Why?” you puzzle and you’ve heard that this is why he’s called trouble. It isn’t fitting for the sexes to know too much about each other, and Elvis knows too much about women, that’s the talk anyways.

The motion of his thumb against your thigh makes you agree, he knows a little too much and you know too little.

“Tell me,” he leans in further and you feel trapped and your heart is bounding from being the object of his droopy eyed assessment, “does this feel like doin nothin?” he demands and then he’s pressing a fluttery kiss to your pulsing throat and the catch of your breath is audible in the small space.

“Don’t.” you beg, confused and wanting it to never end.

“Why not?” his breath chills the damp little spot where he pressed his kiss.

“You’ve got a girl.” you protest.

“Thought you said this weren’t nothin.” he growls.

“Alright maybe it is.” You squirm away from his touches until your back is pressed against the glovebox. “I-I don’t know. I just - I don’t think you should be doing this with me.”

“Alright then.” he smirks, “You'd best not give me reason to tell your father bout any future such nothin’s with boys, alright honey?”

“If you stop behavin in a way that would make Miss Gladys inclined to whoop you, then I will.” you fire back and he thinks he’s in love. Cause you’re right, his mama would be livid at him flustering you and trying you out without making it honest. Your supreme capabilities in social matters, mixed with your utter dumbness in regards to the slick sliding down your legs with each swipe of his thumb against velvet, makes him nearly primal in his wants.

“Deal.” he smiles, “I’ll be gone away to basic training soon, anyhow,” and he notices your little frown at that, “won’t be here to bother you or protect ya, either way. So you’d best just swear off men, ya hear me? Just for a little while till I can come back and vet ‘em.”

“You’ll be gone in the army for a couple years!” you protest his sentencing you to a nunnery.

“Yeah, yeah, and your eggs will keep a couple more years.” he laughs at what must’ve been a good joke that you missed while you were occupied trying to breathe after he patted your lower belly and got out of the car to hand you out by curfew.

On the front porch he tells your daddy a version of the truth. A version that paints you as quite blameless, himself in a starring role of protector and Billy as a no good kid who ain’t quality enough to be hanging out with nice girls like yourself. You are forbidden from seeing Billy again, Elvis is commended, your father goes upstairs to bed and leaves you alone with a young man whose lingering fingers and bitten lips make you lightheaded -you think maybe Elvis has the right idea, your father is blind as a bat when it comes to threats.

Not that Elvis is a threat, he just lounges against the kitchen counter and watches you put up dishes like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“You don’t think Anita would mind you hanging around like this?” You ask him after his lip licking stare gets a little too heavy and you feel somewhat dizzy from being so closely watched by a guy who you know doesn't mean anything by it.

It’s just Elvis’ way of things, he makes people feel and it’s not his fault.

You’ve tried to not blame him for that building feeling you get when he’s around, the one like your lower belly is made of molten lead. That’s a physical abnormality, not his fault in the slightest.

You just do worry about how people might see this, seeing him walking home from your house late at night. You've heard the older ladies on the board whispering about you and how you haven’t got a protector, how your father can’t see what’s right in front of him. You presume they mean about Billy and his straying hands or the old donor who tried to tug you into a closet with him. Elvis is just trying to fill in the slack your father’s grief has left. Anyone with eyes could tell he’s just looking out for you. He had to be pulled off the old doner before he murdered him after he heard. It’s only that you notice Anita has turned a little cold towards you, and mama always said to be careful about letting a taken man take too much interest in ya. And Elvis does seem very interested in something about you, maybe just cause people stare and he thinks it’s rude, thinks getting pulled into closets is ungallant. He does plenty of his own staring, though.

“What about Anita?” his head snaps up and he takes his eyes off your shiny little leather belt to ask you to repeat yourself.

Something about having his focus back on your face makes you feel dumb about your worries and you change the question slightly. “Y’all gonna get married?” you ask instead.

“I dunno.”

“But with you going into the army, what’s gonna happen, what’ve you two sorted out?” you press, scooting him to the side so you can put a dish away behind him.

“She says she’ll wait for me.” he replies, sounding like her faithfulness is an imposition and you get a little mad for her, “she’s always tryin to nail things down I-I-I’ve told her, I just d-d-dunno.”

“She’s been very accommodating of you, Elvis.” you plead her case the way your mother used to plead yours to your father about dance lessons.

“Yeah, sure, sure.” he agrees dryly, leaning on the counter again and staring at his feet, “Gonna put a pause on her damn career and everything, least for a year or two. Big whoop. Who's gonna take care of the babies once she goes back to work, that’s what I wanna know. No children of mine’s gonna get raised by some passel ‘a mamies like a bunch of Wall Street brats while their mother is off kissin men for a living.`` By the end of this tirade his voice is close to a shout and you think he’s shockingly worked up over a rather hypocritical grievance.

But it makes sense, “Guess a career woman isn’t the best mother.” you agree tentatively and his eyes shoot up to your face. You’ve no more dishes to dry and your hands hang uselessly by your side.

“Oh hell, look at us ruinin our evening over her,” he shakes himself, “don’t mind her she’s just being an ole biddy about it all.”

“With some reason!” you laugh, “ And the point could be made that you’re actin a bit like an ass.”

“Oh hell not you, too!”

“It’s not nice to lead a gal on like that -or two in the case of Dixie and June- and then get mad at her when you decide she isn’t what you want after all!”

“Didn’t realize you were so invested in my private life.” he sneers.

“I’m not. But the Evening Herald is.”

“Don’t let the papers turn ya onto a nagging puss, lil girl, doesn't suit your sweet temper.”

“I’m not turnin into anything, just stating facts.” you murmur and clasp your hands before you anxiously. You swear you can feel the heat coming off of him, anger you presume, “And I’m a little tired.” you add sheepishly.

“Course you are.” he murmurs, visage smoothing like magic and he comes up to you, cradling your face in his hands as you back away and bump into the stove, “Been a big day and a lotta new feelin’s, hmm?”

“Yes.” you gasp, your chest hot and his hands are so large and warm and it’s like he blocks out the rest of the world full of his girls and your father and what’s right or wrong, cradling your cheeks with his thumbs running along your cheekbones, “You gonna be good and do what I asked ya?”

Your mind is so fixated on the plump curve of his bottom lip that you surface with a frantic splutter, trying to recall what he’s referencing.

“You gonna lay off the datin’ till I get back, yeah?” he reminds you helpfully as his fingers work the back of your neck to jello, your core pulsing in a strangely distracting response as he tells you how it’s gonna be, gives the very direction you’ve been craving.

“Yes, yeah.” you breathe and your voice sounds like those gals on the screen when they’re overcome by romance, but here is none that you can find, just Elvis looking out for you and patiently bearing with your stupid naïveté when it comes to boys. He’ll make sure you land the right one, start house with a fella who’ll give you security and direction. It’s just your loneliness with father being so mellow that has you going on stupid dates with boring boys. Elvis is right. You admit it to him.

He smiles in response and it looks like the kind he gives before he punches someone in his films. It’s a promise.

You shiver against the stove and grip the dish towel hanging from the handle.

“And you’ll let me know if anybody is botherin, ya while i'm gone, right?” he rewards your obedience with the promise of security, just like all those knights in fairytales.

Women obey and men provide, it’s the natural way of things and your heart swoops at the first taste of a married dynamic. You feel like you should offer him some favor, some reward for giving you his defense. You’ve heard stories about girls who feel the way you do, who get overcome by gratitude to a fella before getting married and they are ruined. You grip the dish towel harder, unsure of what motion you might make which would ruin you, what touch it is that seals your fate, puts a baby in a girl before it’s time. It can’t be a hug, surely not just a kiss, but you wouldn’t know as you’ve never dared. You’ll wait for Elvis to come back and make sure the fella you date and marry won’t get you in trouble in any of these ways. It’s complicated and confusing being a woman, and since that night of the funeral he seems to have taken the place of your mother, and you trust him in this.

“I’ll let you know.” you swear earnestly.

He kisses your cheek gently in response. Just a dry peck. That must not be the ruinous action in question, he wouldn’t do anything to tarnish you. It’s Elvis.

Elvis is a sullen but brave boy as he boards the army bus to ship him down south where it’s more Mexico than truly civilized but the world just calls it Texas. Or that’s what you hear from Gladys. You were not there to see him off, why should you be? You are busy and you have sworn off men and there’s a great deal to do in those dismal post holiday weeks. You do not pine for distractions, you don't have much energy to lie awake at night for long and rehearse the way his hand felt on your thigh, or his lips against your throat, or his fingers grazing the little swell of your belly where your womb is housed. These are passing, fitful and frantic thoughts, that pass through your mind before sleep takes you.

And Elvis is much the same, basic training is unkind, even to a man whose performances required much stamina. He crawls into his bunk and collapses most nights, staring with hooded eyes, at the newspaper clipping of you licking that damn icing, the picture he’s shown his new army buddies while announcing to them proudly “that’s ma girl, no, no, not the sort to fool with. The one I’m gonna have carrying my babies. Soon.”

Soon.

It’s a waste in the meantime, the way he spews his seed over the panties he stole from your room that morning he dressed you for the funeral, it’s a waste of precious fuel— fuel for his dream as it impotently coats and drips from the silk and makes him angry that he can’t find it in him to tamp down that restless heart of his, just settle down. Marry you already. Be a little respectable— sounds relaxing, sounds satisfactory. Sounds like something the Colonel would love for this whole “new image.”

That sours it all and he rolls over in his bunk with the sodden scrap of silk that no longer smells of you but of him and his wasted desire.

Soon, he tells himself, soon. After a little while.

It’s tragic really, the way we postpone snagging those things we know we want, the ones our gut lurches for, our soul craves as our conscience whispers “just do it.” Put off because life is too exciting to tone down, fun and girls are in abundance, and time seems very plentiful until it runs out in a great big whoosh of sand from the hour glass, taking with it those steady, stable, sure things we’ve counted on being there for an endless little while. Like your Mother. Just gone, and the universe doesn't pause to acknowledge your world is fractured, for everyone else it’s just tomorrow. Tomorrow is here and they’re not.

The shock of it jolts you, the regret nags you, the grief strips you back down to the bare bones of what you want and need. Elvis only knows one other person who he thinks gets how this feels as his train hurdles homeward to a coffin and a future that doesn't make any sense. Mama should have gotten to see him out of the army, gotten to see him do more, hit thirty, marry. Mama shoulda been able to meet those grandbabies she’d pestered him about but he put off for tomorrow.

Tomorrow is a bitter pill and he wants to spit it out, start over, refashion it just so. No more regrets, no more fighting his gut. He’d like to dig a shallow grave for a little while, fold himself into it and just rest a minute, learn to forgive his stupid ambition, catch a break. Wake up some thawed spring morning to the sight of you beside him in the daffodil covered earth, find the reason in your eyes that makes him choose to live again.

Still, he finds it in a little fur trimmed peacoat standing and waiting forlornly for him at the station.

You’re not a girlfriend, you’re not a fan, you’re just someone who lost their mama too, somebody who knows there’s not much to say, just a hug there on the crowded platform and “she was the reason for everything you ever did, wasn’t she?”

Was. She was. Now is about what is.

#reposting for masterlist purposes #since the other links are deactivated #cheers #elvis fanfiction #sarge and lil mama #the beginning #elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis x you #austin elvis imagine #elvis presley #Elvis x Elaine

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

asks :))

what i have learned today is that y’all wanna get fucked by some monsters...

What does nostos mean? What language is it in? 🤔 also I of course loved it, mind blown as usual queen

it’s ancient greek! it means homecoming, the idea of a triumphant return home for the hero after a long journey. i found it through looking at the root of nostalgia. in this fic of course it’s kind of a grim tongue in cheek play on it. the reader’s coming back to the mountains, but she’s running away after a bad breakup, and the welcome she gets is... shall we say less than ideal haha

Just read nostos-

First of all as a person who reads monster shit- hell ya. Mhm. That’s some good shit right there. That was DELICIOUS horror. It actually had me a bit nervous and afraid to read what was gonna happen next 😳

Secondly- omg I wanna know what happened next (at the end) 👀 know what I mean??? 😼

ANYWAY AS ALWAYS you never disappoint and your writing is fantastic (if/when you write horror yandere stuff again I’ll be there- frothing at the mouth. A+++++ work ILY💖)

you want me to write the monster porn, just say it bby ghfjdkshgfjkd but ty

Omfg that fic was so good!

Did the readers mom know about monster kuroo?? Or was she just worried because of the previous murder? And did Kuroo somehow manipulate reader into coming back to the forest or was it just a big coincidence? (👁👄👁 there's no such thing as a coincidence)

Looking forward to your future work <3

ty nonnie!! i didn’t have the right space for it, but after kohsuke was ripped apart and eaten kuroo stayed by the reader’s side until late in the night, only disappearing when he heard the reader’s parents/search party approaching. they found her lying in pools of blood (and scattered half eaten body parts), shaking and unresponsive – they knew no animal could’ve done something like that. so they knew something lurked in those woods, but considering the reader had repressed the memories, her mom couldn’t just come out and say it <33

You are an AMAZING horror writer!!!

The uneasiness I got from the conversations with the mom is just *chefs kiss*

A+++++

ahh thank you!! horror is such a hard genre to write because i’m never sure if the suspense and everything’s gonna hit right haha

I read Nostos before going to sleep last night and at the time I was like “sure hope this doesn’t give me nightmares” and thankfully it didn’t lol. But I think I’m willing to take that chance again because it’s so GOOD and I think I’m just going to have to relive it – @ohno-otome

fhdjgbfhjkdfn i’m glad it didn’t give you nightmares bby!! but i also appreciate that haha, i’m an absolute wimp with scary movies and stuff but i just can’t stop watching them haha

I just wanna say that I was listening to "You're a psychotic villain playlist" on youtube while reading Kuroo's oneshot and I can't explain the emotions I felt, but I'd let Kuroo do things to me asdfghjkl – @itishebihime-samaforyou

ooh nice! sometimes the right playlist makes things doubly as fun haha

OH MY GOD!?!?! Nostos was soooo GOOD?!?!? Like it was so creepy (but in a good way), and scary and suspenseful!! And the ending!?!? Omggg honestly one my fav fics from you!! You did my mans Kuroo justice 🥺💖💕

TYYYYYYY i was genuinely concerned i was gonna scare everybody off haha

Ah! The new fic! Chiefs kiss! Magnificent! Bravo!🧚‍♀️✨🧞‍♀️🦖🦭🌹💫

tysm nonnie!!! <33

i’m pretty sure i’m in the same/similar timezone as you? and i do be staying up late to be one of the first to read your fics (i usually stay up late anyways). so imagine my surprise when i see you post in the afternoon. in conclusion, whether you post to align with your european and american readers’ timezone, my gmt+10 arse will still be one of the first to read your fics. also nostos sjdufigyyjf i have to admit, i recently just found out about monster fucking and nostos scratched the itch😫 i feel bad for kohsuke though

bby i always post at like 2-4 in the morning please get some sleep!! the fics will be there in the morning lmao. i kinda low key forget about my aussie/gmt+10 followers because i think there’s like... 3 of you haha

Honestly if i could give u a dollar everytime i got off to your fics, you'd probably be rich by now

lmao the idea that people find my fics hot enough to get off to still blows my mind lol

your newest kuroo fic was so SO good!! its totally okay if you dont want to answer this so you can keep things ambiguous but is monster kuroo planning on killing the reader after he's...done with them

thank you, bby!! but no, monster kuroo isn’t gonna eat her – he’s had plenty of chances to do that if that’s what he wanted, but he has other plans for the poor reader

RHI, I WANT TO STATE FOR THE RECORD THAT I AM OKAY WITH MORE MONSTER FUCKING IN THE FUTURE. i also want to say im not a monster fucker, but that just feels like a lie at this point. okay, now that that's off my chest, i love it. the mystery, the connections of kuroo to a cat. kuroo's probably gonna go and batter around his prey once they're under his grip like my cat does. hopefully the reader will come out somewhat unscathed, if they are ever allowed to leave 😌 love this, love how different it is, the way kuroo just tries to weasel in. very monster and yandere vibes, very you. have i said i love this yet?? id willingly let him get me drunk on his cock, maybe never leave the peace of the mountains again

‘i want to say that i’m not a monster fucker’ bby the denial will get you nowhere haha. just lean in and embrace it hgfjkdlkfgjnkdl ahh but thank you this is such a sweet ask ILY!!!

Omg omg the monster thing kuroo was in ur latest fic is so familiar to me abdhdmfnjfjf. I remember being told abt a monster with VERY SIMILAR characteristics to it (aka the not being able to go inside a house unless invited and using fire to lure ppl out) AND JFC IT TERRIFIED ME. Esp how when i told ppl around me and they didnt recognize what it was, but it was somehow known to the kid that told me abt it.

(Some ppl thought it was familiar but still didnt know what it was)

Do u know what im talking abt? Hopefully u do

-🥚

GHFJDK so the monster in this is kind of based off the nekomata spirit in japanese folklore - they can appear like people, torment victims by reanimating the corpses of their loved ones, they’ve been blamed for forest fires, so it was just fun to use that as a basis and then go buck wild haha. anyway thanks for the ask bby!

Rest In Peace Kohsuke, you would’ve loved Haikyuu season 5😔✊– @joyvstheworld

poor kohsuke deserved better, i’m just mean to the oc’s i throw into fics haha

Monsterfucking ❤❤❤❤❤❤ a little annoyed you're making me simp for yan Kuroo though (a vibe tho tbh). You're so extremely talented!!!! &

This is probably a stupid question, but how did Kageyama react when he couldn't find y/n? How is life with yan Suga? I imagine probably awful BUT yknow maybe the stockholm syndrome set in fast lmao. Sorry, I'm going on a binge reading your stuff. - @oracleofdin

i will not apologise for making you simp for kuroo he deserves it the man’s a snacc. and as far as your second question, suga’s a very caring, very smothering kinda yandere, so i guess in some ways it’s better than what the reader had with kageyama but... pick your poison haha

That was so good. I’m so shook rn I can’t comprehend anything but how good that was and how good a writer you are

TYSM NONNIE!!! <33

Ok, so, I just read Final Girl and the lil' ticket addition to it and just---

Well, ok I've been playing Dead by Daylight a lot lately? And I'm just picturing Tetsu as the newest killer "The Trickster" and I'm positively RANDY.

Your writing is ALREADY thirst inducing and just as satisfying, but this has SENT ME- If you're not familiar, please...

https://youtu.be/iowkiPobYYQ

Understand my thirst. (I'd also like to clarify, I use a different skin for him that gives him black hair and he looks like Kuroo with an undercut.)

~ @the-casual-hedonist 🌸

i love how feral y’all got for final girl kuroo. like bo and akaashi had his fans, but i put a spiked bat in kuroo’s hands and y’all lost your goddamn minds and i love to see it. fghdjkvhfjdkls thanks for the ask bby

idk why but I love preggo reader as long as I don't pretend it's me 😢✋ I hate babies n pregnancy anywhere else other than horny haikyuu fics

i think that’s a valid thing for a lot of fans. the idea of breeding is sexy, the actual getting pregnant and having a kid thing... not so much. but especially with non-con scenario’s, it’s more about the aspect on control than the actual desire to have kids. but yeah, i feel you

Sorry to bother but uh was just wondering in fracture did Osamu kill his wife or was it actually an “unfortunate event” ? Love your work btw!!

he most certainly did :))

LMFAO RHI i totally get not liking cheating/infidelity fics (towards reader) bc IT HIRTS ME SO BAD I CANNOT HANDLE THOSE.

id be reading fics those fics like: tf you mean my yandere aimt gonna baby me and only want me??🤨🤨🤨⁉️‼️

EXACTLY! listen i get that it’s a fucked up fantasy, but in my fucked up fantasy you damn well better have the decency to be loyal smh

Finders keepers is the most beautiful thing I've read by you: I read it twice like I normally do and here's what I figured out the second time (that's when I analyze it and find the little tidbits of things that are much darker than they appear (: )

To start I LOVE THE DETAILS OF THEM NEVER TEACHING READER ANYTHING- at first I assumed "oh they might see her as a little sister or child or something" but realized thAT WAS THE ISSUE!! they infantilize her and isolate her from everyone but her group. the small details like that are what make the story amazing 😎💅

ahh thank you so much, nonnie!! pls this is making me soft 🥺

I just wanted to stop by and say that I love your writing and I hope you're doing well!!! Drink plenty of water and keep up the amazing work :) but seriously you're one of the best fanfic writers I've seen on tumblr! I read your "Imitation" piece about kuroo and i keep coming back to it, it's so good! I did want to ask if you think it'd be possible for the reader to ever escape with the baby (or at least attempt to). Or if Kenma would "help" at all just to put an end to kuroo's antics lmao

kenma would in no way help the reader, and tbh by that point if kuroo did get her pregnant, she’d be far too emotionally dependant on him to actually even want to leave, but thanks for the ask!

You know who I think would be a perfect Yandere in the JJK world? Choso.

🚨Spoilers Ahead🚨

After being locked in a glass jar for however long he was, and all that happened with his brothers, I feel like he would absolutely never let his darling out of his sight. He would be possessive. Obsessive. And Oh So delusional. Sure he’d be your anything - he truly is a softy - but to what end?🤤

choso would make an excellent yandere, ngl 😌

what au/troupe of your fav character(s) that you have written do you like the most?

(rlly hope this makes sense🙏)

i am always a slut for soulmate au’s :))

#ask #anon #rhi answers #ohh so many asks #i love you guys <33 #fic q's

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hufflautia · 3 years

Text

Where it all started [Part 1]

Chapter 1

Sometimes links don’t appear on posts. if you can’t see the link to “Chapter 1”, my masterlist is pinned to the top of my blog, and you can find it there.

Summary: Slytherin’s parents have another argument, but at this point, no one’s surprised. After all, they’re her parents. It would be abnormal if they didn’t argue. However, this one’s a biggie. The fight ends with the slam of a door and her dad packing his bags into the car and getting ready to leave. Desperate for him to come back, Slytherin’s mom forces her to go to him with a message that will surely make him stay. Buckle up folks, for this is where it all began.

Slytherin stood on the sidewalk as she watched her dad pack up his things into the van.

She dug her fingernails into her arm, her heart stinging with ache as her dad turned around with a smile on his face, a failed attempt to reassure her that it was going to be ok. It was all gonna be ok. After all, this was normal, right? It’s not like it was unusual that her dad was leaving again to go back to Florida, where the homewrecker waited for him, her outstretched hands eagerly opened up to him and his credit card.

However, this was the first time he left abruptly. A spike of sorrow stabbed at Slytherin’s heart as she thought back to the sound of her parents’ door abruptly opening; soon after, she could hear angry stomps that quickly descended down the steps of the staircase.

She could almost hear the hiss in her ear as she stood in the archway of the living room, watching her dad leave in the far distance. “Tell him that Ravenclaw’s crying,” her mother spat, pushing her towards the front door. “Quickly, before he leaves!”

Slytherin internally sighed. How typical. Instead of resolving their relationship issues by going to couples therapy, her mom decided to throw all those burdens onto her daughter, who had already grown tragically used to being used as her puppet.

She decided not to argue against going after her dad and trying to guilt-trip him into staying home as her mom wanted. Otherwise, she would be lectured on how she’s selfish and wouldn’t do this small thing for her mom, how she’s basically ruining this family by letting her dad leave, how family is so fucking important and manipulating her dad into staying would be vital to their happiness as a whole, how family this and family that.

You get the point. Slytherin certainly did. That’s why she was currently standing awkwardly behind her dad, staring at his back as he lifted boxes into his car.

“Um, Raven…” She paused. Her throat felt dry and tight. Swallowing with difficulty, she tried again. “Ravenclaw’s crying.”

It wasn’t the crying itself that mattered. That wasn’t the main reason why her mom rushed her out the door to deliver the message to her dad. It was simply the fact that it was Ravenclaw who was crying. Let’s just say that he and his dad had a complicated relationship.

Things were never the same between them after Ravenclaw sent an angry message to him via text when he was in Florida a year ago. The contents of the message reeked of disdain for his constant infidelity. When his mom found out, she shoved the phone into Slytherin’s face in the dead of night and asked if she knew about this. The glaring light from the screen nearly blinded her.

Slytherin read the text messages through squinted eyes and could make out a few curse words here and there. Though she was slightly disoriented from the sudden ambush of information, it was clear to her that her brother resented their dad for what he did.

That made Ravenclaw’s anguish even more useful in their mom’s opinion. Seeing the tears streak down his face when he heard that his dad was leaving again, she had a glorious idea. Perhaps if her husband knew of their son’s sorrow, he would reconsider his abrupt departure. After all, it was Ravenclaw who was crying.

If it were Hufflepuff, that would be understandable—she can get quite emotional sometimes. But it was Ravenclaw, who was usually guarded and distant. One might suggest that he was secretly broken inside. But that’s not the point, at least not in his mom’s opinion. The main thing she was concerned about was that she could use his misery to her advantage! Maybe if her husband knew of his sadness, he would feel guilty enough to stay behind. After all, if his son, who despised him, was upset over his departure, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to stay home and endure his wife’s temper for a little while longer.

Slytherin’s words did produce somewhat of a reaction. Her dad didn’t turn around for a while, but when he did, his eyes were slightly red and puffy. It was evident that he was trying to hold back his tears. One might think that this means that he’ll stay. He seemed distraught over the news that his son was crying because of his leave. Surely, he’ll stay, right?

It wasn’t enough. Nothing ever seems to be enough.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” He hugged her briefly and gave a light squeeze as a sign of reassurance. As a silent message that it was going to be ok. Even though everything was most definitely not okay. A thousand hugs and gestures of reassurance wouldn’t change this.

Slytherin didn’t react angrily to his refusal, the unspoken declaration of No, I will not go back home. In fact, it seemed as if she didn’t react at all. However, if one were paying close attention, they would notice the sparkle in her eyes dim. But maybe there wasn’t a sparkle to begin with. She had been enduring this shit for so long that she forgot what it was like to be normal, to feel like the white kid you see in commercials, the one who seemed to radiate mirth, a type of energy that said, I don’t have a care in the world because life is so fucking great and I can’t stop smiling. She didn’t even bother to smile, a common facial expression when one is in a difficult situation and tries to diffuse the somber atmosphere by slapping a facade on their face, the corners of their lips upturned to form a grimace that resembles some sort of a smile—a twisted kind of smile, that’s for sure. Why should she pretend that everything was okay when it wasn’t? Instead, she merely nodded in response.

When her dad pulled away to pack the last box into the trunk, she took a deep breath to diminish the familiar sense of abandonment that flooded her senses, to clear the warning signs that flashed in her mind. He’s leaving! Your dad is leaving! He’s abandoning you again. You’re apparently not important enough for him to stay.

She stared at the ground, only looking up when she heard the sound of a car door slamming shut. The resounding click was all it took for the waterfalls to finally pour from her eyes, for it was at this moment when she realized that this was actually happening. This was no dream—it was reality. Her sad, devastating reality. Tears blurred her vision as she watched the car drive away, leaving her in the dust.

Slytherin gasped in erratic breaths between her broken sobs as her eyes hung onto the tiny speck that resembled her dad who was driving

away,

and a-w-a-y.

Through the jumble of thoughts that clashed in her head, one thing was clear. Her dad was her dad, but only sometimes.

Tears streaking down her face, she tried to soothe her pain with the belief that he would be back soon. If only she had known that it would be a while before he returned. If only he hadn’t left. Perhaps things would’ve been different for her if he stayed, for this was where it started.

This marked the beginning of it all.

Comments and reblogs are a writer’s gold!

MASTERLIST ; sometimes links don’t appear on posts. if you can’t see the link to “MASTERLIST”, the masterlist itself is pinned to the top of my blog. check it out if you haven’t already!

Author’s note: HI! Were you surprised to see that I posted two fics in a row?? I hope you enjoyed this. Most of it was unfortunately based on what happened to me a year or two ago. I based Ravenclaw on my brother, who did actually cry when my dad was leaving after an argument, and yes, my wack mother did force me to run after my dad to tell him. One of the few differences is that I’m not a drug addict and I’m fine now so dont worry.

Idk how I feel about this series, it is a lot darker from what I usually write. I know I’m gonna have to write more for creative writing class, so maybe i will continue it. I will try to think of how to turn these fics into something more positive, because this stuff is very heavy and depressing. however, that will be a little difficult because the plot itself is naturally drab. however, i will try to think of a happy ending for Faye/Slytherin.

Shall we look at some wholesome pictures?

lmaoaoa i pasted this picture from the internet and tumblr glitched and pushed the pic all the way to the top. imagine seeing this dog at the beginning of the fic, that would be funny :’)

AWWWWWW I THINK THIS MIGHT BE MY FAVORITE

ok hold up i just realized that is probably a stuffed animal 😐 this is so embarassing lmaoaoa when i saw it i was like THAT IS SO FRICKIN CUTE

OK WAIT WTF NOW I THINK ITS AN ACTUAL DOG??? CAN SOMEONE HELP AND TELL ME IF ITS REAL OR NOT?!! at first, i thought it was real, but then i looked at the paws and it looked kinda fake and i was like this dog is too fluffy and wholesome to be real. BUT THEN I LOOKED AGAIN and i think the owners just put the pooh outfit over the dog?? what is going on with my brain.. but at the same time, its 2 am for me rn so maybe i should get some sleep BUT FIRST, LETS LOOK AT MORE DOGS <3 (lmaoaoa i feel like my friend would say “gosh ur such a hufflepuff” (menna im talking about u lmao omg hey gorl))

After seeing this gryffindor pup, i immediately searched up “dog costumes hufflepuff” lmaoooooo

OK THATS ENOUGH DOGS FOR NOW. Part 2 is coming soon. I already have it ready but I might not post it right away.

That’s all for now. Be sure to let me know what you think. TOODELOOO!

TAGS: @slytherpuff-shenanigans @lokijiro @xxkitsurikaxx @sara-is-boredd @skylee-skz @determinedpines @draco22malfoy @pancakes-and-sugar @casteel08 @indigosimon1998 @tell-that-to-my-feather @the-ugly-duck0 @prettyblueskylark @okiguessimawitchnow @daisyinmyheart @peachyblue @korra4321 @shoyoockbby @ravenflowersposts @walkinganomaly @parkerthemarker02 @hummingbird-hufflepuff @bumbblebeeeeee @luciferswife16 @iknow-im-cute @maisen98 @shadowsinger11 @tuonglam03 @fanfic-reblogger @mygc0re @rellasworld @sha3thehunter @croctusjuice @jadefox05 @d0uxs @charleii @kaylenthegreat @hufflepufflepukwudgie3897 @insertlongnamehere @trashpannda @ihate-myname @nowheredreamer @history-geek101 @strawberrypanda99 @nikkijovanic @hannanshi @sirenofthe7seas @johannamariemst @badass-like-damon @willow-salix @remmyswritings @x-whatsupdoc-x @dracosvftie @hitchhiker-of-the-galaxy @akerlizzie @thatfann @justanxiousme @another-witch @bucinjisung @elegantcroissantplaidpony @treefroggo @narritydream @hufflpuffles @adreameratdawn @leftpeanutturtleegg @turbulentbluebird5 @geekgirl69 @praiseourlordduck @quakemebacktothe50s @nomad-of-the-realms @stardustzainy @theblackwolf21 @crakencc @introvertedrae @cryinbisexual @bojelina @cocoqueenstheword @manicpixiedreamtarot @velvetstrawberry @jxmpsuitx @simpering-simpleton @urfaveslytherin @asterinatlas @simpforkpop @pufflehuff929 @morallyambiguoussimp @applekenm @chunwest @oncergleekpotterhead @no1-importan @qiaopao @dulduldoldul @schlongbottom @vickeyunicorn @peanut-in-the-goal @hufflepuffgirly @flvrqnce @nothingtoseehere812 @maxwellsgang @1d-killed-me @betacaroteno-lanudo @dragon-slayer-fairy1 @thatonebislytherin @dragonsandbread @justanotherperson @sophiexteresa @hmilkwhoney @writertwiddle @questionsbecameourocean @anomiatartle @coldsweetharmony @dont-hyuck @fixstationed @kindawannadietbh @trippy-morgan @xo-angel-ox @fangirlgeekandfreak @evolnura @mossy-axolotl @verylovelystars @boilyourteeth @megand2017 @malfoys-demigod @booksntings @joshirlangford @staymoarmyzen @poojxshxh @hedgepuffgirl @alverniaphi @verifiefangirl-mainblog @purpleskymalfoy @roxy3457 @rayanicaraynbow @jess-harrywars @starrysonic @tonksichu @lauxtbs @tumlbr-trasher @chelseasosa @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @swagangelhorsepickle @princessstoopid @pymmoon @emilyaneliperry @pond-waterr @pandapillow @saraleo95 @astrartss @trentalexanders @theoriginaljohnwatsonsblog @nevilletheplantboi @just--another--hufflepuff @yoongifiess @ajdqueen @annie-mcl @coloring-bud @majorfangirl37 @eatacrackerandstop @weasleytwinswheezes @imscaredofhorses @dontmindmeimjustabox @glitterykidlightmug @multi-fandom-nutjob @littleemotionalpanda @thewitcheswords @blueberry-9-pancakes @worldsbestdilfbecky @qixnsriess @inexperiencedpotathoe @notsowiseravenclaw @captiniminnie @ruinyourface @da-fox-rangerrr @inkedintothepaper @happy-puff @grandcyclecreation @dawinehouse @catiwisspuff @aasa2102 @mae-25 @sydthekidd98 @kokichismango @xxavaloraxx @iamahufflepuff @adoregin @sunnniiee @lewispoolerpayton @dumbbitch85 @bumblebirbs @diggorycullen @protectorofsk8topia @silverhetdanes @zuko-28 @beardedhumanoid @arianatorpotterhead @shipping-book-keeper @marvelenthusiast10 @i-cannot-do-aesthetics @a-huffleing-lesbean @kaslec @hufflepuffwritess @mouthfacereborn @kodeinekissss @ihavenocontrolofmylifeeither @pinqgchuu @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @clementines-x @stressy-depressy @sweetinvisiblewriter @absentmindeduniverse @asnowpuff @theofficialgaybestfriend @violayaxley @sunshinyyb @colettedelaurel @theoriginalsherlockholmesblog @i-have-a-bad-feeling @jpow345 @gay-disaster826 @bloodyxheaven @autumnpleaves @froggy-failure @toomanybandstocare @pink1babez @untitled-2424 @sleepdeprivedgurl @chaseanders @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @nugnugchick @queenofwordsandnerds @ganjeolhiddaeng @wordy-escapades @writtenfoxscreams @w0odr0ses @coolpetsmcubandit @crypticcandi @widowsgranger @fantasyprincess101 @wiiltedflowers @aestheticworldd @miniaturefunnytraveldonkey @bucketofdeadroses @uwuplsh @softedits-exe @cel3stialone @sofiapeachyy @wanderaven92 @eunnieah @marsupialsgotbloodyears @eurydicedior @neonuzumaki @uhhhem

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plantdad-dante · 2 years

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Book #29 - Medea by Euripides

(first time read, read in German (yay for confusingly ordered second-hand bookshops))

[I make a note of reading everything I read (in general and for whatever-this-is) in either its original language or, failing that (because of lack of skills or availability), in the English (as close to ""universal"" as I can probably get) translation. This one's different because I couldn't be bothered to go back to the bookstore and fix my mistake of grabbing the wrong copy.]

So, anyway. Medea.

First up, Kreon was a dick and I am glad he went to Hades. Also, I briefly confused him with the other guy named Kreon from Antigone, but Wikipedia told me they are actually two different people. The more you know.

Second, Medea is damn scary, but everyone around her is either a dick or super guillable or both, so it was fun to see her win, in the end. Would have been even better if she hadn't offed her off-spring, but you can't have everything, I guess.

Third, I'm kinda surprised the gods sided with her in the end, there. Kinda thought her latest actions would disqualify her from that. But then again, Jason was calling on Zeus, and Zeus at this point probably thinks that murder is just the normal and to-be-expected reaction to infidelity, going by his personal experience.

All in all, an adequat in-betweeny read for the emotional turmoil of past and future (looks wearily at Six Of Crows).

#medea #euripides

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lemonz-and-limez · 4 years

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The Amends Consideration

A/N: @ailurophilia72 if you ask, you shall receive.

This one is a heavy one, I'm not going to lie. Saw this prompt on tumblr and it got my brain going I just couldn't get it out of my head. Death has reared its ugly head in my life again and that kind of fueled a lot of this story. I am in a lot of pain right now and I needed it out. This story was the product.

I know in Young Sheldon, George is portrayed a lot differently than what is let on in Big Bang. I tried to go for the way he was described in BBT, a darker version definitely compared to what we see in YS. Just for full disclosure.

Prompt: Sheldon gets sad when he realizes his dad will never get to meet his child

Sheldon didn't know what to think as he pulled his mother's unexpected package out of the mailbox. Mary hadn't mentioned anything about sending him something, so the contents of the small box in his hand was a mystery.

He sorted through the rest of the mail on the elevator ride back up to his and Amy's shared apartment. Bills, adds, a couple of congratulations cards for the upcoming birth of their son. But nothing interested him more than the nondescript box he cradled under his arm.

As the elevator doors dinged open, Sheldon paid no mind to the obvious chatter coming from 4A. Penny and Bernadette had teamed up to throw Amy a baby shower, which his wife wanted but never had time to plan. With her two friends already being mothers themselves, they decided it would be easier to take the responsibility into their own hands. Of course, that meant Amy would probably be gone most of the day, knowing how those ladies like to chat. Sheldon didn't mind though, he never cared if he was on his own.

He had planned on getting some work done that he had neglected during the week. No day like Saturday to get things done, after all. However, the second he stepped back into his apartment, he threw everything from the mailbox except his mother's package onto the kitchen counter.

Sitting down on the teal couch, Sheldon inspected the parcel on the coffee table in front of him. "Alright, let's find out what you are," Sheldon whispered to no one, taking out his tiny pocket knife and carefully cutting the tape. The box opened from the side, so he spilled the contents out before him. There was a loud clunk as something heavy, and plastic hit the table. A couple other things fell out with it, one of which was a note from his mother.

Shelly,

Found this while cleaning out the garage. Figured it was something you should have. Forgive me for watching it without you, but I needed to know what was on the tape.

Please watch it, baby. He would have wanted you to see it.

Love, Mom

Sheldon set the note back down on the table and picked up the item that had caused the most ruckus on its way out of the box. A VHS tape. Probably the last thing Sheldon expected his mother to send. Upon further inspection, Sheldon found his father's handwriting scrawled across the label.

Make Amends – For Sheldon

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sheldon sighed heavily. A part of him didn't even want to give this tape the time of day. His father had been dead a long time; there was no need to dig up dirt from twenty-six years ago. But his curiosity couldn't help but wonder what his father could possibly have said to him on this tape.

According to her note, Mary had watched it already. Should he just call her and just have her tell him what was on it?

No. Sheldon was mature enough to watch this recording without calling his Mommy for assistance.

He moved quickly around the small living space and in front of the television. After the "football game tape over" incident last year, Sheldon invested in a used VHS player. Amy had teased him about it for weeks, but he couldn't possibly tell her the real reason he got it. Not to watch old movies from his childhood, which he did so Amy couldn't call his bluff, but to listen to his father's voice again when he started to forget what it sounded like.

With a few expert moves, Sheldon had the video playing in no time. Cradling the remote in his hands, back on the couch now, he leaned forward with rapt attention.

George Cooper was already in view, adjusting the camera on whatever he had it perched on. Which, according to the date, also on the label, was in 1994.

It was only a couple of seconds before his father had settled into the chair of his old office at Sheldon's old high school. From the looks of things, it seemed dark, like it was late in the evening. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to think about it too much because the dead man started talking. Literally.

"Hello, Sheldon," George sighed. "I don't know when this video is going to find you or how you're going to take it, but this needs to be said, Son. I have to say this to you. Especially to you."

His father paused for a moment as if to compose himself. The moisture in his eyes told Sheldon enough.

"I'm in a twelve-step program, Sheldon. For my drinkin'. And before you think of it, no, your mother is not forcing me into it. I am going on my own free will, but I am doing it for her. I love your mom, Sheldon, I know you probably don't believe that, but I do."

Another pause.

"Step nine of this program is to make amends with people I have harmed. And a part of me knows you will never fully forgive me, but of all the people I need to apologize to, you're at the top of the list, Sheldon. Not just because of what you have seen, or the things I have said to you drunk, but because of my shortcomings as a father."

"I always had this idea of what a man should be. The typical, all things masculine, into sports, rootin' for the Dallas Cowboy's kinda stuff. But you never did fit that role, did ya, son?"

Sheldon watched his father smile at his question. There wasn't malice in his eyes like he was angry, but instead, he seemed almost proud of him.

"Georgie was always the one who liked to go outside and play catch with me, and go fishin', and do all of the things 'typical boys like to do'. You never had an interest in any of that, and because of it, I never treated you as I should. As a father should. Unconditional love no matter what your child does or likes. I tried to change you at any chance I could get, and that wasn't fair to you. I should have embraced your intelligence. I should have bought you that science kit you wanted instead of that dirt bike. I should have been the father you deserved, Sheldon, because you did. You are amazing, son, and I am so insanely proud to be your father."

Sheldon wasn't expecting this. He didn't think his father was capable of saying such heartfelt words about him. His father could sing praises about Georgie's accomplishments all day long, few as they may have been. But even though Sheldon never heard George say he was proud while he was alive, hearing the words said over tape struck a chord within him.

Before the man on the screen could start talking again, Sheldon pressed pause. At the beginning of the video, he had expected George to discuss the unfortunate affair that Sheldon had unfortunately born witness to. After all, that was his most blatant faux pas. But his dad had dug deeper, past the surface, past the infidelity. He looked for the root problem of his relationship with his son. Sheldon's father was a man much like himself, never liked to outwardly display emotions often, but when he did, they were sincere. So, for the great George Cooper to open up like this, to a camera albeit, meant a great deal to him.

It had been a long time since Sheldon had thought of his dad the way he was at the moment. Like the man who raised him, who helped shape who he was today, and not the man who simply cheated on his mother. That was the title he had held in Sheldon's eyes for a long time. There had been a few cracks here and there. Like he and Amy's wedding or the night they watched the pep talk George gave the football team in the locker room. But those moments were fleeting. Gone as quickly as they came.

Perhaps it was because Sheldon had yet to hear the contents of this tape. The fact that he never made amends with his father before he died had forever tainted his perspective of him. Sheldon couldn't be sure.

All he knew was that he suddenly felt much more at peace in regards to his dad. But in place of Sheldon's bitterness and anger towards him was a tug of grief in his gut that he hadn't felt for years. The twisting knot of pain that permeated throughout his entire body.

His dad in the video, had said he was proud of him. Insanely proud of him. And yet, he didn't even live long enough to see half of his greatest accomplishments. He never got to see him with a Ph.D., win a Nobel, and countless other awards. He didn't get to meet Sheldon's friends, never got to meet Amy. His father's absence was felt heavily at their wedding.

And now, as Sheldon was on the cusp of becoming a father himself, he wouldn't get to meet his grandson.

Even from his seated position on the couch, Sheldon doubled over from the crippling feeling that came with that thought. Missy had expressed similar views when she gave birth to her first child, but Sheldon hadn't expected that feeling to be so intense. So utterly heartbreaking.

Sheldon wouldn't get to see both of his parents cradling his newborn. His son wouldn't be able to enjoy two grandfathers. Or learn football from his Texan Pop-Pop and be forced to root for the Cowboys no matter how bad their record was.

His son would never meet the formidable George Cooper.

The dry sob that escaped his mouth surprised him. But then came another one, and again, and again, until his face was no longer dry. Sheldon could hardly remember the last time he had cried like this over his father. He had done it once in the twenty-six almost twenty-seven years his father had been dead. The day he found out his father passed away when he was alone in his dorm room miles away from home. But he was fourteen then, barely able to understand the true concept of death. Sure, he knew the science behind it, but not the emotions. Not the grief.

Still, the tears he shed in his living room were not unlike those he had shed in his dorm room. Alone, vulnerable, miles away from Texas. But one key element was different; he now could fully understand the scope of what his father being gone meant. How it impacted the lives of his family. How it changed what his son's childhood would look like.

Sheldon was now beginning to dread the day he would have to explain to his son why he only had one grandfather while everyone else at school had two. Hopefully, Amy's dad lived long enough so he wouldn't have to explain to his kid why he had none.

With his elbows rested on his knees and his fingers interlaced behind his head, he let his body feel the emotion running through it. He didn't try to surpass it as he had for years. But that just made it all the more intense.

"Sheldon?"

His head snapped up at the sound of Amy's voice. His heavily pregnant wife stood in the open doorway to their apartment, staring at him with concern.

Amy glanced at the TV for a moment. "What's wrong?" She asked, slowly walking the short distance to the couch.

Sheldon frantically wiped at his face, trying to make himself look more presentable. As if that mattered to Amy. "This came in the mail today." He held up the empty box his mother sent. "Mom was cleaning out the garage when she found this tape of my dad. She wanted me to have it," his voice cracked with the last few words as he threw the cardboard back onto the table.

Amy, now sitting next to him, rubbed his back soothingly. "Well, what was on it?"

"It's nothing, just my Dad explaining he was in a twelve-step program, and he wanted to make amends with me."

"So, why the tears?"

His face scrunched up again. "I don't… it just… it just hit me that our son will never be able to meet him," he sobbed. Sheldon gestured with his hands and tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. "I-I-I don't know that j-just hurt more than I-I expected it t-to," he eventually stuttered.

Amy sniffled beside him, which made Sheldon finally look back up at her. She gave him a sad smile as she continued to rub his hunched back. "What was on the video that made you realize that?"

"I thought he was going to apologize for the affair, the one I walked in on. Instead, it was for his mistakes as a father. How he never seemed as proud of me as he did with Georgie. I didn't think my dad was capable of digging below the surface, but he did. He found the true problem with our relationship, and he wanted to make up for it." Sheldon picked up the remote and rewound the tape a little. "I mean, I have never seen my father talk about me this way. Look."

He pressed play.

"I should have been the father you deserved, Sheldon, because you did. You are amazing, son, and I am so insanely proud to be your father."

The video stopped again.

"If he was proud of me then, how would he feel about me now? Just the fact that I found you… he would have been over the moon. I'm sure of it. But now we're about to have a son, and he won't be here for it? I just…" Sheldon trailed off, not knowing quite how to word what he was feeling.

But Amy nodded in understanding. "Above all else, you wish he were here for our son," she stated, not asked.

"Yes. Despite all of my father's faults, he did care about his family. He would've gone down protecting us, probably, if a heart attack hadn't claimed him first. In light of all of my professional accomplishments, this is what would have meant the most to him."

Sheldon glanced down at his wife's stomach, where their son was visibly wiggling around. He smiled fondly at the sight but swallowed thickly at the emotion that rose with it. In a few short weeks, he would be holding that baby, their families would be surrounding them. Rejoicing with them.

But George Cooper wouldn't be there.

Suddenly, Amy's hand was no longer on his back but on his knee. "Sheldon," she beckoned him to look at her. "There's nothing I could say that would make this any easier for you, but might I suggest something?"

He nodded.

She laid her free hand on her stomach. "What do you think about making the baby's middle name George?"

"What?" He gawked. "I thought you wanted it to be William. You know, for Darcy."

She stared at him long and hard for a moment and then patted his leg. "I did, but I already got Elliot; let me give you this one."

Sheldon shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "You're doing all the hard work; you should get to decide two of the names. Seeing as how you don't want to hyphenate his last name."

Amy grimaced suddenly and held a hand to her side, her face scrunched up in pain. And suddenly, Sheldon was on high alert. "What's wrong? Are you having contractions?"

"No." She waved her hand at him. "Just got kicked pretty hard, that's all." He opened his mouth to point out her hard work again but she stopped him. "Look, Sheldon, I am really not upset about our kids only being Coopers. Seriously. I want to do this for you. I want his middle name to be George."

"Are you one hundred percent sure? You don't just feel sorry for me because my dad is dead and you think this will cheer me up?"

It sounded stupid coming out of his own mouth. Sheldon could only imagine what it sounded like to Amy.

"Sweetheart," she endeared. "Our son's middle name should be special, not the name of a fictional character. We only decided on William because we couldn't think of anything else. Neither one of us suggested George for some reason. I have no emotional attachments to the name William, but I do to the name George. We both do."

Sheldon took her hand in his own. "You're sure about this?"

"Absolutely. Besides, don't you think Elliot George Cooper sounds better than Elliot William Cooper?"

"William did lack a certain panache, didn't it?" Sheldon smirked, finally coming around after more convincing than it should have.

Amy laughed at that, but her face went serious again rather quickly. "I'm sorry you miss your dad, Sheldon. I would have loved to meet him."

"And he would have loved to meet you."

Sheldon looked back at the TV, his father's paused face, still staring back at him. He really did look like his father. His mother had always said so, but he never believed her. Now an adult, it was like looking into a mirror. He really was his mini-me.

If Elliot got Sheldon's eyes, then he would really have George's eyes. Sheldon only had them because of his father. Suddenly, he selfishly understood Amy's hope for their children to have his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" Amy asked, pulling him from his reverie.

"It's just uncanny how similar my father and I look. I guess now I'm just being selfish in hoping our son looks like me." Sheldon looked over and was met with Amy's blank expression. "Not that I don't want him to look like you," he quickly tried to cover himself.

Amy giggled and motioned for him to stop. "I wasn't thinking that. I know what you meant. Your dad may no longer be alive, but he lives on through his children and their children. Not to sound overly sappy."

"Too late," he joked. "I know I am being overly sentimental right now because I'm thinking about my dad. But seeing his face again, hearing his voice, I guess I'm just trying to hold onto whatever I can of him."

"That's grief, honey," Amy said softly.

Sheldon nodded, acknowledging the truth and the harsh reality behind those words. "I know, and I haven't allowed myself to feel that for a long time."

They sat in relative silence for a moment, the gentle whirring of the VHS player the only sound filling the air. There was still more on the tape; George certainly had more to say. Sheldon was sure of it. He thought for a moment, then turned to his wife and asked, "do you want to watch the rest of the tape with me?"

"Really?"

He nodded slightly.

"I do."

George Cooper's voice sounded once more in a matter of seconds.

"Sheldon, I know you are going to do great things one day. I have known that since… well… forever. I know you're going to find amazing people to surround yourself with who will love you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

Check.

"I know you will make countless accomplishments academically, more than you have already."

Check.

"I know you will fall in love with someone someday who will make your heart soar."

Sheldon and Amy smiled at each other, squeezing each other's hand slightly. Check.

"I know you will have exceptional, amazing children one day because you and I both know you are too exceptional to not do so."

Almost check.

"I know you're going to live a full life, Sheldon. Because you have such a drive for greatness, and I know you have my stubbornness, so, you will settle for nothing less."

George leaned forward, on his desk Sheldon was assuming.

"I know I have a lot of making up to do, and I hope someday you will accept this apology. I know you have a kind heart, Sheldon; I have seen it with my own eyes. I will understand if you can't, I have failed you as a father thus far, but I hope that someday you will extend that kindness towards me. I cannot wait to see you grow up, do all the things I know you want to do. Hopefully, I'll be around to see you accomplish most of them."

Sheldon should have finished the video before he started crying earlier. The fact that this was taped less than a year before his father passed away did not escape him. Nor did that make his pain any easier.

He figured, at least now he had Amy by his side.

"I hope that when this video finds you, you will listen and not throw it away. Even if that's what I probably deserve. I'm going to try sending these tapes out soon, so call me if you see this. Just let me know you've watched it. If that's all you can do for now, I'll understand; I've got a lot of things to work on."

His father smiled fondly at the camera. Not the forced one that Sheldon could always remember from his childhood but a genuine, real smile. It was also his smile.

"I love you, Sheldon. Talk to you soon."

The video stopped and began to rewind to the beginning. Amy was rubbing at his back again, soothing him as tears once again fell from his eyes. But Sheldon was still too transfixed on the screen. He whispered it so quietly, he doubted Amy would be able to hear it. Which would be fine. It was one of the few things not meant for her ears anyway.

"I love you too, dad."

A/N: Well that ended darker than I usually end this. This story ended up being surprisingly personal to me for a lot of reasons, and since I am dab smack in the middle of grief it just didn't feel right to have some uber sappy happy ending, because that's not genuine. That's not real. It's bittersweet at the least I hope.

Thank you so much for reading, especially right now, it means the world to me.

#shamy #shamy fanfic

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delbeugre · 4 years

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Have you seen SADIE BEUGRE? DEL is in HER/THEIR SENIOR year. The MATHEMATICS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE/THEY are GRITTY, BEWITCHING, RETICENT and WASPISH. Rumors say they’re a member of HASTINGS. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE BIT AN EX-BOYFRIEND’S PINKY FINGER OFF AFTER SHE FOUND OUT HE CHEATED, AND THEN HAPPILY SERVED TIME FOR IT.

im tommy im a freak and of course i am here to get freakalicious with u all... this is my newest frankenstein type creation named sadie i know .02% about her yet but i am more than confident she will b nothing but a fun time! like this if ur down to plot!

TW: VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF JAIL/PROSECUTION, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DRUG USE

BACKSTORY

capricorn sun / virgo moon / scorpio rising

raised by her uncle Big (his name) who is a hermit shut in town local in the depths of the florida marshland like some goosebumps protagonist. hes gone far past socially acceptable in terms of his ability to connect with the modern person but is wise beyond belief... his whole vibe is a warped cross between a cryptid and a mountain man that forages and cooks neighborhood plants. married for 27 years before his wife passed from illness. its quite possibly the only thing hes ever been emotional about

but dels entry to his life throws a wrench in his sadness (despite abandonment being what they bond over). she takes the focus away from his loss with her presence; her dad, his brother, died in a tragic train-car collision around the same time (which is speculated to be a suicide bt nobody can ever really be sure). he was a single parent so her custody is thrown up in the air for a few months as cps decides what they r gna do with this freshly orphaned little scrapper

she just kinda turns up on his doorstep n from there they cohabit a space. shes arnd 6-7 at this time... big never seemed to b phased by the fact tht she was a child n tended to treat her more like an apprentice or guest. he was never close to her father because of their age difference, being the older out of the two, so to have his daughter become his responsibility is just..... weird

this doesnt mean that he wouldnt provide for her bt it was. not very parental whatsoever.... no conversation or interaction beyond what was necessary. she was a mute fr a while and still is? to a degree.... very short spoken

when she got to her preteens he offered her an allowance in exchange for little odds and ends of stuff to be taken care of around the house. errands n all tht.... sometimes he wld purposefully leave things for her to pick up n take care of without mentioning it for a bonus. taught her the importance of saving your money and the horrid corruptness of a society basing everythings worth off paper. big exposed her to a lot of knowledge and took advantage of her silent curiosity by fueling it with books, homeschooling, life skills (catching a fish, setting a trap, knowing your berries in the woods...... the works)

her teens carried out the same way bt with the introduction of a real job, a spot down at the local butcher shop checking people out at the register and helping around the back of house. del knows a great deal abt cow/pig/chicken/etc anatomy from her years here..... she committed to being 100% vegan into her early twenties because of her trauma frm this occupation

it paid very well tho n was the best gig she was going to get within a reasonable biking route from home. so she settled!

the plan wasnt to keep it up for long anyway. she worked rly hard for her spot at yates and didnt intend to ever screw herself over. her plan was to get her bachelors, masters, become a professor, pursue a personal hobby of agriculture and build an elaborate greenhouse to live in

bt things happen.....

some 35yr old douche with a green thumb woos her at a gardening store n swoops in to teach her a little more abt romance; all of this, of course, under the guise that he had all these tips and tricks for living environmentally friendly. a lame hippie wannabe that shouldve never even approached her bt alas.... he did

love is a touchy subject n it hadnt been something she set her sights on, but she was interested in wht this dude could teach her n at 19 she ended up falling in love. she delayed her education to stay an extra year back home and work out another plan which included him

this was very disappointing to her uncle bt he didnt have anything to say abt it. it was never parental before n it was never going to be, so this was another lesson she wld just have to overcome on her own

it turns out that she doesnt care for infidelity. when the confession comes out its met with a lot of screaming, bawling, blistering white hot anger. the whole incident is blacked out of her mind to b honest....

matters of the heart are no longer something to concern herself with because of the repercussions of her rash behavior regarding heartbreak O________O she spent a year in jail n still has to attend therapy / anger management meetings

deep down she is still hurting. there was a lot of pain... bt the sadness is not over the loss of some noob. she is in a state of constant disappointment, detaching from herself out of shame. putting her own life on pause only for it to turn out like that? stupid stupid stupid...

PERSONALITY

chugging along! tldr spectre-like swamp nymph aura with the slightest (not so slight) unhinged feral tendencies

delicate like a moth resting in the gleam of a flashlight.... her anger singes her wings when shes too comfortable staying in one place, so theres always constant stimulation, always shifting gears. shes prone to feeling threatened; that being said, sadie is wary of walking in crowds, a little bit skittish when approached without making eye contact beforehand. like a small grey kitten..... in a big wide world

has a hard time keeping a conversation bt is very interested in debate, and even more so in studying alongside someone in complete silence. it reminds her of home in the same sense tht her uncle wld nudge her to keep reading by always having his own book open

doesnt have many friends and is alright with that. rumors are tht she is still a virgin bt who really knows? not i...... bt i wldnt be surprised if this was true. shes not impressed by people nor material items so this whole yates crowd is a turn off

she is truly clueless when it comes to how to behave around anyone her age. i think she understands but it just doesnt compute. she could come off as impolite bt it is just standoffishness? some people cld try to crack her but i dont think even she knows what that would be, or what that would look like. even in her one (1) failed relationship it was never deep heart to hearts or sharing dinner..... solitude is her realm

del is very comfortable with herself, very open with her wardrobe! doesnt leave too much to the imagination? she appreciates the human experience n expresses that thru this whole “body is a temple” type thing.... not quite confidence, but proudness of being. has gotten multiple notices frm professors for her tops being too sheer, nylons too ratted up, etc. has dirt under her fingernails half the time, chipped polish, some chapstick. smudges her eyeshadow on with her fingers

doesnt smoke cigarettes all too often but is dependent on weed. it kinda perpetuates her paranoid demeanor bt at the same time it keeps her lax enough to be able to mentally handle city life

her room is a playground for huge monstera plants, christmas cacti, ivy creeping along the doorway. she sleeps on a tiny thin mattress on the floor with a linen sheet and has her books stacked up on the ground next to it to hold her ashtray. the whole thing is dumb empty

takes her studies seriously and pinches every penny she can..... she has never ordered herself a coffee frm somewhere before, ordered food frm a restaurant... nothing. i wld think the most she would branch out from harvesting everything on her own is buying a bag of sunflower seeds frm a gas station, but even then, she much prefers eating stuff she grows herself. has a tomato plant, some basil beginning to sprout, etc.... manageable crops for any college students tiny space

...

bt yea thats it thats all! connections cld be all over the place. im legit open to anything. theres only a few tht come to mind right off that bat:

a few people that get along with her? same classes? they shared a bowl n now theyre getting into the nitty gritty of some personal conversation that is veering into no mans land....

some sort of clueless makeover moment? arent rly into sadie as a person bt see a lot of potential... perhaps need a plus one to a party on the fly and figure thats the best option theyve got

crushes? this wld be fun n potentially dangerous! like playing with a hot cast iron pan or something :)

again im vry new to rp so i wld like to leave a lot of stuff up to chemistry, brainstorming n stuff like that, but please consider everything on the table! what i hav mentioned is the tip of the iceberg im so burnt out n i wrote a lot more than i intended to i am so sorry but i promise i am friendly

#yatesintro #/tw implied violence #/tw death mention #/tw drug use #/tw jail mention

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quarterfromcanon · 5 years

Text

How Long Do You Plan to Keep Me at the Back of Your Mind?

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 21 - Basic [2,442 words]

“Hello, ladies, and welcome to the trial run of Hallmark & Hummus.” Rebecca splayed her fingers. She waggled them as if the name were appearing in lights. “On this very special evening, we will be enjoying some unarguably bland dip only made interesting with other foods. Whatever film is selected by our vote will be much the same: devoid of flavor until the added ingredients -- us, in this case, the added ingredients are us -- come along to spice things up.”

Valencia offered a strained but well-intentioned smile. She turned to the right and consulted with Heather. “Translation, please?”

Heather’s beleaguered sigh preceded the reply. “She wants to watch sappy made-for-TV movies and eat tortilla chips while we talk about them.”

“Ohhhhh,” the rest of the group chorused.

“I wanna take this opportunity to just apologize to everyone,” Heather told them, ignoring Rebecca’s background indignation. “The theme tonight is my fault and I am already so sorry.”

“How’d that happen?” Paula draped her arms over the sides of her chair.

“We were kicking around viewing options for Girls’ Night earlier this week and everything totally snowballed outta control. I was trying to steer her away from them by pointing out that they’re usually a little boring and unoriginal... which, like, ‘a little’ was being generous, honestly... and she just really latched onto the metaphor.” Heather folded her arms and shot Rebecca a ‘Why are you like this?’ look.

Rebecca tried to mirror the stance but ultimately just stuck out her tongue. “I still think we can make it fun. Plus, your cleverness sparked the creative spin! You should be owning this with pride! You were my muse.”

Heather wrinkled her nose. “I accept full responsibility for the apt comparison but not its application.”

“Compromise met.” Rebecca clapped her hands into a clasp. “Now, before we get into any of that, the first order of business is to greet our special guest. Thank you for joining us tonight, Beth. Welcome.”

Beth was clearly not expecting an individual shout-out like that. Still, she leaned forward to acknowledge them all with a salutatory wave before settling back against the couch. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Heather readjusted on her respective cushion. She pulled one leg up to her chest and locked both arms around the kneecap.

“Okay, so, drinks are in the fridge,” Rebecca continued the hostess explanations. “There’s wine, juice, water, beer, et cetera. I originally floated the idea that we take shots of Hennessy for every glaring instance of sexism to keep going with our letter ‘H,’ but Heather did actually talk me out of that one because we would all die of alcohol poisoning.”

She gathered a tall stack of borrowed cases in her arms, each labeled with a barcode from the local library. “I grabbed all the ones I could find. Their collection was unexpectedly extensive, so let’s see if we can start the process of elimination.”

“Nothing with a cover that looks like pretty white characters are gonna fall in love or die at Christmastime,” Heather declared.

Rebecca pouted and removed six boxes from the tower. “That’s practically their entire yuletide catalog - heh, yule log, that was unintentional - but fair enough. It does whittle the options down by a significant margin.”

“No movies with sequels,” Valencia suggested. “The last thing we need is to get stuck with these people for more than one.”

“And none with punny titles,” Paula added.

“Why not?” Rebecca countered.

“Check how many that eliminates and you’ll see.” Paula assembled a plate while she waited.

“Oh wow, you guys are going after their whole brand,” Rebecca muttered as she continued to weed out entertainment that matched the criteria. “Hallmark came out to have a good time and is honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

“What does that leave?” Beth peered at the titles one by one when they passed through her acquaintance’s hands.

Rebecca held up a single DVD. “Something called The Love Letter.”

“Hang on a sec.” Valencia’s brow furrowed. “Can I see that?”

Rebecca passed her the box. Valencia tapped the name in the bottom corner. “I knew it! That’s Jennifer Jason Leigh.”

Beth chuckled. She rubbed her palm along her girlfriend’s spine.

Valencia peeked to the left self-consciously. “What?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s cute you followed the career of an actress with a big gay fan following before you even figured things out.” Beth kissed Valencia on the cheek.

Rebecca joined in the affectionate laughter. “Adorably oblivious.”

Heather popped the lid off her beer and drank.

Paula tucked a diced piece of pepper into the side of her mouth and lifted her own bottle. “Let’s get this party started.”

She tapped the alcohol against her friend’s serving. Just for a moment, Heather thought she saw a flicker of sympathy in Paula’s eyes.

They all settled more comfortably while Rebecca turned out a couple of the lights and readied the selection. Rebecca stretched across the chaise lounge. She pointed the remote control toward the censor. “Drum roll... play!”

Within the first sixty seconds, a store owner made a comment about women dragging their boyfriends into the building to look at a white dress in the window. Valencia and Rebecca automatically flipped their middle fingers at the screen.

“Damn,” Valencia commented just shy of the seven minute mark. “She likes some imaginary pen pal better than the guy who just proposed to her. Are we sure she’s not a closeted lesbian in this, too? Fixating on an unrealistic man-of-her-dreams seems like a handy excuse.”

“You would know,” Paula teased with a smirk. She sipped more of her drink.

Valencia arched an eyebrow but inclined her head. “Touché.”

“Ooo, it’s near Salem!” Rebecca enthused. “Witches?” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Dude, again, late ’90s Hallmark,” Heather reminded her. “They aren’t gonna throw us a lot of surprises. Also, wrong time period.”

“If Hocus Pocus taught us nothing else, it’s that they don’t have to be bound to their own era. Spooky shit happens,” Rebecca reasoned.

Heather shook her head and laughed quietly.

The female lead was finally introduced. Valencia and Beth exchanged knowing glances when her first onscreen act was writing a poem for a flower consistently referred to with “she” and “her” pronouns. ‘Gay,’ they both mouthed.

Half an hour into the run time, Beth whispered, “So, is this basically The Lake House with a more cockblocking year gap?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Heather confirmed. “This one’s just eight years older.”

“Good to know.” Beth smiled with genuine appreciation for the trivia.

Heather felt a twist of guilt that her first internal response was ‘ugh.’ Then the story randomly included a scene involving kitchen spices and she choked on a scoop of hummus.

“Are you okay?” Valencia murmured.

“Yeah, just went down the wrong way,” Heather managed to reply.

A strange reaction crossed Valencia’s features but she periodically hovered a concerned hand over her friend’s back until ten minutes later.

“It must be true love if you get turned on by air touches, amirite?” Rebecca joked. Heather and Valencia froze before they realized she spoke in reference to the film. They scooted to opposite ends of their couch space.

Beth’s fingers interwove with Valencia’s when the movie’s ill-treated fiancée got to confront her betrothed’s emotional infidelity. Heather’s eyes found the ceiling as she tried not to notice.

The end credits rolled. Rebecca wiped away a few tears. She tucked both legs beneath her body as she faced the other women in the room. “So, what did you guys think?”

“I really liked that checkered dress. Oh, and the giant cloak when she left for Gettysburg!” Paula stayed seated but pantomimed donning the aforementioned clothing while sweeping away in a hurry. “I mean, c’mon, can you really call it a dramatic exit without some kind of cape to swish behind you? It’s the only way to go.”

“Right? So pretty. So stylish. And when they got into the rowboat and she read her poetry to him?” Rebecca pouted and held her hands over her heart. “I loved that.”

“He was kind of an asshole, though,” Valencia concluded. “Waffling between them both like they were equally viable options. Pick a path and stick to it. And for the love of God, invest in wax or a razor.”

“That’s a justifiable point,” Rebecca acknowledged. “I’m a big advocate of a person having as much or as little body hair as they see fit so, you know, more power to him. But, practically speaking, that stuff is gonna scratch your tits to hell when you’re pounding it out together. R.I.P. reincarnated lady’s boobs.”

Heather and Paula concurred with empathetic nods.

“I’m not super into the reincarnation angle itself, though,” Heather decided. “They had a few set traits because of the whole same-internal-essence thing, but Caleb and Scotty were still different guys living different lives, y’know?”

“They did each have their own vibe,” Paula concurred. “The two were very similar but not identical. Close, but no cigar.”

“Exactly! And I think they knew people weren’t gonna be as into modern JJL after ninety minutes with Civil War her. That’s why her name went from Elizabeth to Beth so it’s like, ‘Oh, don’t worry. It’s cool for us to just end the movie now because she’s literally the same,’ but she’s not. She wasn’t there for any of it. Beth doesn’t share all the history and she doesn’t know everything that happened before she came into the picture. It’s like, dude, she’s a separate person and eventually you’re gonna have to explain everything. I guess go ahead and get attached to someone who’s superficially a match, but it doesn’t make her your soulmate.”

Heather finished her rant and stared down at the empty bottle in her hands. She could feel Valencia tense beside her but neither risked eye contact.

Heavy fabric pelted against the top of Heather’s head and fell to the floor.

“What the...”

She looked up to realize Rebecca had chucked a throw pillow at her.

“Start believing in romance, you cynic! Stop deflating love bubbles with your logic!” Rebecca reached for another to lob, but Heather held her hands aloft.

“Yeah, there’s an open container of salsa literally two feet away from me, so I’m thinking we should call for an armistice.” Heather forced her expression into a semblance of contrition. “No more mood-killing. But also no more furniture attacks. Deal?”

“I can agree to those terms.” Rebecca let the second pillow fall from her grip.

“Cool. I’m gonna go use the bathroom before we start whatever’s next.”

Heather departed for that location and locked the door. She splashed water on her face and met her own gaze in the mirror’s reflection. “You are acting like such a jealous douche,” Heather reprimanded herself in a low voice. “That may be the literal brand you represent, but it’s not who you are as a person. Cut the crap.”

She towel-dried her skin and sighed. Somehow, she had to come to terms with the chasm between where she used to think her life would be at this point and where things were actually headed. It wasn’t fair to Valencia to keep letting an undercurrent of bitterness guide the course of their interactions. Then there was Beth, genial and charming, who had done absolutely nothing to earn a cold shoulder. Heather frequently hashed and rehashed it all out in her mind, and she knew Beth had proven herself to be an exemplary first girlfriend. Whether the process of doing so was easy or not, she had to step aside. After all, Valencia wasn’t the only one in a new relationship. Heather had someone, too. Hector... No, she couldn’t tackle her feelings about him right now. The main thing to focus on was turning over a new leaf, and she intended to do so once she rejoined the others.

Heather left the bathroom, pivoted out of habit toward the living room, and almost ran right into Beth. She pulled to an abrupt stop. “Sorry. All yours.”

Beth hooked her thumbs in her belt loops. “Thanks. Hey, I don’t now if it’s a breach of that treaty you and Rebecca have going to tell you this, but you made a pretty solid point earlier.” She cast a covert glance at the rest of the group, playfully following along with the faux tension as well as the subsequent peace. “What makes a person isn’t just what they’re starting with, but how they’re affected by things, and what they do in response to that. Like you said, it’s from their ’90s collection, and I don’t know if they were really encouraging us to look that deep, but still.” She shrugged. “V told me you’re good at reading people, and she was right.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Heather nearly crossed her arms, but instead she slipped her palms into the pockets of her vest. “I may need to call on you for backup in the event of another pro-tearjerker uprising, so, be ready with a strong argument. Rebecca loves a debate.”

Beth laughed. “You got it.”

They parted ways and Heather turned around again. Valencia was watching. She twitched her lips upward timidly. Heather flushed with remorse that things had become so difficult between them. She returned the greeting with a sincere smile. Valencia beamed and approached to talk.

“How’s movie vote number two going?” Heather asked.

Valencia looked back at their companions with loving exasperation. “We’re officially in Eeny Meeny Miny Mo territory, but Rebecca and Paula got into a discussion about whether it should be the full rhyme or just those four words. I feel like I don’t need to tell you which friend was in favor of which option.”

“It’ll be all right. Paula will wrap things up one way or another,” Heather said confidently. “My money’s on her grabbing something out of the pile and shouting ‘This is it!’ just to cut the rounds short.”

Paula’s voice suddenly projected over Rebecca’s. “Oh, look! It’s the brunette from Down with Love. A Christmas Wedding -- we have a winner!” She held the box aloft and then carried the disc to the player.

Rebecca was miffed by the interruption for only a few seconds before her shoulders rose and fell. “Works for me.”

“You called it.” Valencia nudged Heather. “You know us all too well.”

“I feel like you could probably make an educated guess what I’m thinking sometimes, too.”

“Like right now?”

“Sure, if you want.”

Valencia considered Heather with exaggerated scrutiny. “Switching from beer to wine before we start another cringey movie?”

Heather elbowed her and they both smiled. “Bingo.”

#H+V FF #CEG Writing by Me #Helencia #Heather x Valencia #Heather's really sharing my friend's 'Oh poo. Beth's here.' reaction in this one.#I put all three women on the same couch and H+V were hashtag not happy about it. Justifiably so.#IT'S TEMPORARY ANGST #please forgiveee meeeeee

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otomeonfleek · 6 years

Text

IYAT 2: First Impressions and Takeru Ashida Main Route Review **slight spoilers

For many & namely moi, In Your Arms Tonight (IYAT) is an nostalgic OG that marked Voltage starting to address mature topics like infidelity. Regardless of the dozens of characters and games I go through, I remember IYAT and my heart always goes back to Kippei Ebihara.

Over the years, we do change as do our preferences w/ sights wandering to a brusque god like Scorpio or an older divorcee like Jin Namba and or even a sassy writer like Toma.

However again, this dramatic series of a working woman wronged by her husband and that kind-hearted yet strict superior stick with me. In that, the Jap. version of its “sequel” haunted me for years and seeing its Eng. release has me on cloud9.

I jumped to play the first character’s (Takeru Ashida) release and so will base my first impressions on it below.

The first thing I noted was how unlike the series, Be My Princess 1 & 2, this one is not a generational skip. It takes place in a similar time as the original IYAT as we continuously run into our favs in the same neighborhood (ie. we see Aiba and he’s still single). This element is appreciated b/ I get so hyped when we see characters from separate games (ie. I ran into this scary yet helpful older guy at an electronics store. There’s this sassy blonde who got angry I ordered pork noodles). It’s a typically bittersweet feeling b/ the realization that ooh you ain’t their MC. To ease that pain, I will include shit edits.

Now back to the game! As MC, you are in your late 20′s and focused on being a homemaker to your newlywed husband, Kazuya Seto.

**I’m actually super happy to be a Seto, I want your route to release already ahh

With your love of writing, you win a contest and are launched into the novelist’s world. Kazuya gets on your case however because he doesn’t want you to work (I also think he just believes the world is a rough place and doesn’t want you to get hurt, but that’s another story) & because he sees how you’re growing close with another man.

I always wondered if he would turn yandere, but thankfully nah. If you are sensitive to a controlling s/o, pls be mindful of this. Again, it fortunately never escalated to a place of violence or creepy creepy possessiveness.

Moving on! This route impresses me on a several levels.

1.) Given past original husbands (Tomohiro, Koichi), Voltage MCs have a track record of horrid partners...

And so I was pleasantly surprised to see a rather clean split. Bless Kazuya for not joining the list (at least not in this route) in adding hella drama.

As your husband, he’s supposed to be the one that knows you best and makes you happy, but he’s constantly reminded that’s not the case. You’re a writer and there’s another man that understands that you’re more than a housewife. It kills him to suddenly realize how different you both are and so he ultimately begs for a divorce.

This twist left me respecting the husband & kinda understanding him. I’m looking forward to his route b/ beyond Koichi, I want to see how Voltage resolves struggling marriages and character transformations.

2.) There was no outright infidelity. I suppose everyone has their own interpretation of cheating, but I’m meaning physical stuff (ie. outright kissing frm both persons, THE sex).

I respected how MC’s options kept in mind her marriage. Considering the game premise, kudos to writers for managing to not include straight-up cheating here. That must have been difficult!

From the opening vid, I always envisioned MC running off w/ the guy (lol serving vibes frm Genji’s route) & worrying everyone. That did not happen in this Takeru’s route, but who knows about future character releases? Ooh the drama.

This game is unique b/ the roles are reversed and finally MC has the option to cheat & do with that power whatever she will. My morals are against infidelity, however exploring this theme through the game is interesting.

--------------------------MS REVIEW TIME--------------------------

"My dream. In college, it was Takeru. Now, it's being a writer."

Onto the actual review for the character, Takeru Ashida. He is a famed photographer that you know from your college days. It’s emphasized that you were good friends in uni yet always felt he was far away and lonely. He was the popular guy everyone loved, but if you looked closely would see how unhappy he was in a room full of people. Deep af.

You fell in love with him yet things ended on a sour note. From there, you moved on w/ life and found your husband. While Kazuya represents comfort and flowers, Takeru is impulse and eclectic pieces. The latter lives boldly and through instinct which then contrasts w/ MC who is struggling to realize her passions.

By divine intervention, you and Takeru need to work together on your first true writing project. From there, we see a gradual shift from your character being so careful and unsure to someone more honest. With him simultaneously supporting and challenging you to be more (than just a housewife for Kazuya), there is a transformation in your writing. You reach the point where you’ve gained confidence as a writer and managed to create a story with uninhibited emotion which is something you couldn’t seem to get right.

As mentioned before, there is no straight-up cheating (ie. sleeping together, making out), but ofc it’s more on an emotional level. Regardless of your differences and how difficult Takeru can be to understand, you’re good together.

Ultimately, there could have been more character exploration for MC & Takeru (like damn, why you are like this), however I am happy w/ how this route turned out. As the first release of IYAT 2, it did not disappoint.

I recommend giving IYAT 2 some love and will be on the lookout for more.

If any of you have characters you would like me to review, there is a good chance I’ve played them before & can do that for you! Perhaps, you want a funny meme-esque edit. Lmk! This summer, I seem to have a bit of time. I mean, look how many edits I made for just this post. Lol.

#voltage inc #in your arms tonight 2 #takeru ashida #in your arms tonight #otome #kazuya seto #kippei ebihara #voltage inc review

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jiminsa · 7 years

Text

His Throne [JJK] | 02

Genre: smut, angst, fluff ending

Word Count: 6,840

Tags: degradation, praise, fingering, face riding, dom!Jungkook, prince!Jungkook, infidelity, kinda exhibitionism

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03

I love you.

You wished you hadn’t said it.

But more importantly you wished he had.

If he had told you he loved you, you would’ve tried to convince him to run away with you. But apparently happy endings like that don’t happen to insignificant maids like you.

You thought about the last time you guys had sex, how unaware you were of the situation. You needed to sleep with him one last time - needed to properly memorize everything about him.

It was the night before Jungkook’s wedding when you decided to do just that.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Shh,” you brought your finger up to your lips and shushed the groggy and confused prince. He looked so cute with his hair all messy and his beautiful brown eyes looking up at you.

You set your candlestick beside Jungkook’s crown on the white victorian dresser next to his bed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jungkook whispered, his voice raspy. He pulled himself up so he was leaning on his elbows, causing his shirt to tighten on his broad chest. You imagined your hands resting on it, your nails digging into his skin as he fucked you senseless. And then you realized what he said.

You shouldn’t be here… But that’s where he was wrong. You should be there. You should be there instead of her.

You looked to your right, beyond Jungkook, and saw his fiancee’s huddled body curled up in the covers next to him. Jungkook’s eyes trailed after yours and rested upon his sleeping fiancee, a slight snore escaping her.

You noticed the large space between the two. There was obviously no love in this bed.

You took a step closer to Jungkook and slowly pulled the sheets off of his body. You were trying to be as quiet as possible so that you didn’t wake his fiancee up. “One more time,” you whispered, gazing into Jungkook’s eyes. “You got your break up sex, but I didn’t get mine.”

That couldn’t have been your last time together. You didn’t get the chance to appreciate the small things about being with him. Like his heart shaped lips, the way his hands roamed your body, or how he held you like he never wanted to let go.

“Are you crazy?” Jungkook hissed through his teeth. He looked at the sleeping body next to him before bringing his eyes to meet yours. “We can’t do that. Not now, not anymore.”

You ignored his statement and began to undo the buttons of your nightgown, one by one. Once it was fully unbuttoned, you slid the soft, blue fabric off your shoulders and watched as it fell to the floor without a sound.

You stood there, the light of your candle cast against your exposed body, as the love of your life laid there in his bed with his fiancee. You never would have imagined you two would end up this way, and yet there you were, in your bra and underwear practically begging him to sleep with you.

Jungkook pursed his lips together to prevent himself from groaning at the sight of you. Oh, how he missed your teasing. He shook his head, “Y/N… We can’t.”

“Come on, Jungkook,” you purred. “Don’t you wanna feel your cock inside me one last time?”

Even though you two were whispering, your voices felt so loud in the dead room. You were surprised Jungkook’s fiancee hadn’t woken up yet.

Jungkook closed his eyes and let himself fall onto the bed, making it shake and groan from the sudden movement. Immediately, he glanced over to ensure his fiancee hadn’t woken up because of it.

You silently chuckled to yourself at his nervousness even though the movement worried you as well.

Jungkook shielded his eyes with his forearm as he said, “God, you know I want to, but I’m engaged, and my fiancee is right fucking here.” He removed his arm from his eyes and gestured to her as if you didn’t already know.

“That just makes it all the more fun,” you smiled. You could faintly see Jungkook’s brows knit together with hesitation.

Jungkook wondered how you would even be able to fuck each other without waking his fiancee up. Would you ride him? Would he be on top?

For a second, he imagined being on top, you writhing under his touch as he fucked into you slowly so that the bed wouldn’t move too much, waking his fiancee. His pants tightened at the thought of his hand covering your mouth to keep you from shouting his name with pleasure.

He wanted to fuck you, so, so bad. He missed the crazed sex you two had. Sex with his fiancee wasn’t nearly as good as sex with you. You two had been together for so long, you understood each other’s wants and needs. You knew each other’s limits. But sex with his fiancee was boring, to say the least. She was so vanilla it pained him. Not once had he been able to come while fucking his fiancee; he’d always wait till after she fell asleep to go rub one out in the bathroom. He’d think of you and remember how warm your mouth felt around his aching cock, and he’d never fail to come.

He’s thought about fucking you every day since the last time he actually did, but, right now, his conscience was telling him one thing while his cock was screaming another. He didn’t know which one to listen to.

You watched as Jungkook laid there, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t denied your remark, so you took that as a silent agreement on his part.

You stepped closer to the bed, your knees touching it, before gently placing a knee onto the bed. It sunk from the pressure, and Jungkook, falteringly, scooted back in the bed, providing you ample room to lay down.

Jungkook missed you. A lot. Ever since he’d gotten engaged, he hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see you. You were always busy tending to his pompous fiancee, and if you weren’t doing that you were off cleaning like a maid should. He hated that. He knew you deserved so much more than the life of a maid.

“Stop thinking,” you whispered. Jungkook seemed so distant and lost in his thoughts. He should be focused on you. On your willingness to give yourself to him. On your practically naked body in front of him. “Just fuck me.”

Letting his cock control his emotions, Jungkook grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer to his parted lips. You smiled at him and watched as his gaze lowered to your lips, admiring how kissable they looked. He licked at his lips before crashing them with yours. The slight smacking of your mouths working against each other echoed in the room, but it still wasn’t loud enough to disturb his sleeping fiancée.

Jungkook licked your bottom lip, begging for access. You opened your mouth, letting him snake his tongue into your mouth as he massaged your tongue with his. You wanted so badly to moan at the sensation, but you knew you shouldn’t.

Jungkook’s grip on your wrist tightened as he pulled you even further into the kiss. That familiar aching in your core began to build, and the need for friction between your legs was nearing unbearable. Your legs were going weak because of it. You brought your free hand up and rested it on the bed to keep yourself from falling.

Jungkook threaded his fingers through your silky hair, pressing your mouth even harder against his. You could feel your lips start to bruise from the pressure, but Jungkook didn’t lighten up on his ministrations.

He kissed you with such fervent urgency. You wanted to fight for dominance, but all you could do was melt into the kiss and the sensation of his tongue running over yours. All you could do was accept everything he had to offer because this was, after all, your breakup sex. So it was your turn to memorize his every movement no matter how achingly painful that was for you to do.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled away from your lips, taking every bit of warmth with him. Your face was flushed, and you were out of breath.

Before you or Jungkook had a chance to catch your breath, you placed your other knee onto the bed. Then, you carefully laid down on your side next to him, your back pressed against his warm chest. Jungkook instantly wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand finding its way to the hem of your panties. That familiar, safe feeling of being wrapped in his arms flooded your senses.

You wished this didn’t have to be breakup sex. You wished it could just be sex.

Honestly, it didn’t even have to be that. You wished it could just be you and him, in love. But the hard reality of this was that you were the only one in love, and with an engaged prince nonetheless. You should feel silly for trying or even just thinking of being with him, but here you were, aching to be touched and touched by a royally engaged man who never confirmed just exactly how he felt about you.

Jungkook’s fingers grazed against your clit, bringing you out of your reverie. It was the slightest touch, but it caused waves of euphoria to ripple throughout your body, settling in your toes as they curled in on themselves.

Your mouth fell open as a silent moan escaped your lips.

Your hips instinctively bucked against his hand, searching for more pressure. When Jungkook’s hand didn’t give you the friction you needed, you arched your back and pressed your ass against his cock, feeling the hard member under the soft fabric of his pajamas. His cock settled between your cheeks before you rubbed your ass back and forth and in circular motions.

You could hear Jungkook inhale sharply from behind you.

You were going to continue teasing and torturing him until he touched your swollen clit.

Jungkook’s open mouth latched onto your shoulder, his teeth slightly brushing against your skin. He wanted to moan and whisper filthy strings of praise into your ear, but he knew the second he would there’d be no stopping him from growing in volume, and that’s the last thing you two needed.

Instead, he settled for sucking onto your exposed skin. He left behind sweet butterfly kisses between every harsh suck as he made his way up your neck. Your neck and shoulder were flowered with an array of pink and purple hickeys.

Eventually, Jungkook took the hint and rubbed circles around your clit with his thumb. You quietly sighed at the pressure and stopped your attack on his cock. As Jungkook continued to play with your clit, his middle finger sliding up and down your slit, soaking it with your juices. Then, all at once, he shoved the digit into your aching, wet core.

Your thighs immediately clamped around his arm, trapping Jungkook’s finger inside you. Your eyes closed, and you could see stars in the back of your eyelids. His fingers were long and slender but filled you up and stretched you out so perfectly. He was able to reach spots within you that your own fingers couldn’t explore.

“Another,” you breathed, your voice nearly inaudible. “Add another finger, Jungkook.” Delicately, you opened your thighs so Jungkook could push another finger in, stretching you further.

The sound of Jungkook’s fingers working in and out of you filled your ears, your arousal evident. The noise was so intoxicating Jungkook could drown in it. His cock hardened beneath you, and precum began to drip from the tip. He needed friction just as much as you did.

Pressing his hips into you, Jungkook began to grind against your ass. His movements were slow and hesitant as to not shake the bed. It was unbelievably painful, and yet every time the head of his cock grazed against your ass, he couldn’t help but moan into your hair. You helped him out by moving your hips in circular motions again.

Jungkook added a third finger into your wet core and used his palm to rub your clit. His hand was beginning to cramp from the position his hand and arm were in, but he never slowed or stopped his fingers from pleasuring you.

You reached behind you and began to stroke Jungkook’s cock over his clothes. It was hot and heavy in your hand, and you could feel every pulse. You twisted your wrist back and forth as you pumped his cock and ran your thumb over his slit. You held him a little tighter and started to stroke faster and faster.

As you stroked faster, Jungkook began to scissor his fingers inside of you, brushing against your walls at an absurd pace.

“Jungkook! I’m-” You breathed heavily. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning his name even louder. Even though he was moving so fast, you needed him to go faster. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and you knew you were about to come all over them.

You were so focused on chasing your relief, you stopped stroking his cock.

“Come for me, Princess.” Jungkook whispered into your ear. His hot breath tickled on your skin, adding to the pleasure. You missed when he’d call you princess. You could forget you were a maid, forget he was engaged, forget all the difficulties that came with your relationship, and for the night you’d become a princess. During sex, you were his princess, and that’s the only princess you wanted to be. “Come all over my fingers.”

And with that command, you were coming all over him, your juices coating his hand and making a mess all over the sheets. Jungkook quietly groaned at the sensation of you tightening around him. You continued to clench around him as you came down from your high, and you tried hard to conceal your heavy breathing. Your body convulsed under his touch as he pulled his fingers out of you, gently brushing against your sensitive clit in the process.

“Shit,” you hissed.

You laid there for a second, regaining your breath. Jungkook removed his hand from your panties and brought the soaking wet digits to his mouth before sucking on them, tasting your arousal. “God, you taste so fucking good, I just wanna eat you out and feel your pretty little cunt on my tongue.”

You smiled at the praise before reaching behind you and stroking Jungkook’s cock again. You could feel the wetness of his precum soaking through his clothes.

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “Come for me; I wanna taste you, too.”

Before you could stroke him any faster, Jungkook grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “No,” he whispered. “I wanna come inside you. Wanna feel your tight little cunt clench around me, Princess.”

Before you had a chance to protest, Jungkook was pulling down the hem of his pajama bottoms. His cock sprung free from the cloth prison, hitting his stomach. With his right hand, Jungkook grabbed his member, and with his left, he lifted your leg up, providing him room to slide into your soaking entrance.

He pushed your panties aside as you held your leg up, waiting for him. Finally, you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He rubbed it back and forth, teasing you.

You closed your eyes and let your head loll back and rest against Jungkook’s firm chest. He leaned down and planted soft kisses into your hair and on your forehead, and then watched as his cock gradually disappeared into your heat.

He was moving so slow, inch by inch, admiring the way you swallowed him up. He was so close to coming just from feeling how tight and wet you were for him. Jungkook laid there, his cock inside you, as he tried to keep himself from coming. He tightened his stomach and pulled his lips into a thin line.

It was torture for the both of you.

“Fuck,” Jungkook rasped. “I love how tight you are, always so tight no matter how many times I fuck your pretty little pussy.”

“Stop talking and actually fuck me already,” you groaned.

Suddenly, Jungkook was thrusting into you at a slow and steady pace.

Both of you were covered in a thin layer of sweat, causing your skin to stick to his every time he shoved his cock into you all the way to the base. The explicit sounds of your hot, sticky bodies melding into one filled the room.

You missed the feeling of being filled to the brim with his cock. He was still the perfect size for you, like you two were made for each other.

As Jungkook continued his sweet pace, you wished you could see his face twist with pleasure as his hips met your ass, but all you could do was imagine the provocative image. That wasn’t very hard to do, though. You remember vividly the way Jungkook’s eyes turned to slits, the way his brows came together with concentration, and how he always chewed on his bottom lip right before he was about to come. The picture was forever etched into your mind because nothing was more satisfying than knowing you did that to him. Knowing you turned him into a horny, dazed mess.

“Faster.” The word slipped past your bruised and swollen lips.

“Can’t.” Jungkook grunted. He didn’t have to say why he couldn’t for you to understand.

His fiancée was the problem. If only she wasn’t lying five feet away from you, then Jungkook could fuck you with the frenzied urgency he usually did. But, unfortunately, he couldn’t, and it was killing him.

You grumbled internally. At the pace Jungkook was going, it would take forever before either of you came. Taking matters into your own hands, you lifted your hips and pulled off Jungkook’s cock until just the tip was left before slamming your ass back to meet his hips.

Jungkook hissed behind you, and you continued the motion. His hand immediately gripped your waist, tightly. His nails dug into your skin, marking your hips with crescent shaped bruises. With you moving your hips and Jungkook still thrusting into you, the movement became faster, to a pace that would easily get you off - although it wasn’t nearly as fast as you were accustomed to.

The slapping of your sweaty bodies grew louder, as a result.

What if Jungkook’s fiancée woke up? The thought was oddly exciting. Her waking up and finding her fiancé’s cock buried inside a lowly maid. Just thinking about the rage she’d be in made you cackle internally with amusement.

After a while, you began to rub at your aching clit that was begging for relief. The simultaneous stimulation of your clit and pussy made the heat pooling in your stomach spread like a wildfire.

With your free hand, you latched onto Jungkook’s soft hair and craned your neck so you could crash his lips with yours. You needed something to distract you from the mess of moans threatening to escape you. You let your moans die on Jungkook’s tongue, on his lips, and in the back of his throat.

Jungkook did the same as he groaned into your mouth. He couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect you were. How soft your lips were, how tight your cunt was, how your body fit perfectly in the crevices and curves of his. He couldn’t believe that he was fucking you again. It was painful enough coming to terms with thinking the last time y'all fucked would be the last time he would ever hold you so tight.

It might just break him letting you go a second time.

Before Jungkook could dwell on the painful memory, your breathy moans pulled him back to the present.

“I’m about to come,” you sighed against Jungkook’s lips.

“Again?” Jungkook smiled. “You love my cock that much, huh? I haven’t even come yet, Princess, why don’t you wait your fucking turn.”

You whined at his demand. Lucky for you, you knew just what gets him going. Stroking his ego always proved rewarding.

“Yes,” you pulled away from his lips, but held your grip on his hair. Keeping your voice low, you said, “I love your thick cock. I’m a nasty cockslut that loves to come all over you. God, you fuck me so good, Jungkook. Please let me come. Please.”

Hearing you beg made his cock twitch inside you, he loved when you talked dirty. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Jungkook whispered. He licked a stripe from the base of your neck to your ear before nibbling on it. The light touch made you shudder beneath him.

Suddenly, the slow and steady pace Jungkook was fucking you with turned violent and erratic. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat.

“Yes, just like that!” You mumbled. You arched your back and shoved your face into the pillow under your head, biting the fabric. Your muffled moans left Jungkook on cloud nine; they were more frequent and growing louder as you neared your second orgasm.

Jungkook clamped his hand over your mouth to shut you up. You stopped stimulating your clit and grabbed onto Jungkook’s arm, and you released your grip on his hair, letting your arm fall onto the bed.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, shit!” You cursed into Jungkook’s palm.

Just as you tightened around him, clenching your thighs together, Jungkook muttered, “If you keep doing that I’m gonna come.”

“N-nobody’s stopping you,” you smiled into his hand and closed your eyes.

Jungkook continued plunging his cock into you, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. After a few more thrusts, you came hard for the second time. Whimpers fell from your lips as your body convulsed beside his before, finally, going limp. You squeezed hard around one last time, causing him to groan your name loud and clear. “Fuck, Princess, I’m gonna-”

“Jungkook?” You heard a small voice from behind you. Your eyes shot open.

Jungkook immediately stilled inside you. His hand on your mouth pressed harder against your lips. You inhaled quickly through your nose before holding your breath.

Jungkook’s fiancée was awake.

With one swift quick motion Jungkook threw the blanket over the both of you, covering you up.

You felt Jungkook’s fiancée shift around in the bed beside you. “Why are you being so loud? Quit moving.” She mumbled, her voice groggy.

Even though you should be scared his fiancée was awake and worried she’d notice you, you couldn’t help but be amused by the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook apologized, trying to keep his voice steady. He was a little out of breath from fucking you. “I’m just a little restless since…” he paused and looked down at you. “Since we’re getting married tomorrow.”

You let go of the breath you were holding. You didn’t want to hear this.

You could easily expose the both of you right now. The thought briefly crossed mind just so you could experience the satisfaction of pissing off the vain princess, but you immediately reminded yourself that if you did get caught, you’d probably be fired or worse - executed.

To distract yourself from letting useless thoughts cloud your mind, you decided to have a little fun.

“Sorry for waking you,” Jungkook apologized again. As he continued to assure his fiancée everything was alright, you tightened yourself around him. “I-”

Just as he was about to say something else he choked at the sudden pressure on his cock. You smirked, loving his reaction.

“I-” He started again but was cut off by you swirling your hips, fucking yourself on his throbbing cock. “Shit.” He hissed under his breath.

“What?” His fiancée questioned, completely unaware of the situation.

You continued to fuck Jungkook, slowly lifting your hips and sinking back onto him. It turned you on knowing Jungkook was completely powerless in this situation.

You knew Jungkook was about to come right before his fiancée woke up, so it shouldn’t take long before he actually does.

“Nothing,” Jungkook grunted. His hand was at your waist again, his grip firm. The harsh pressure of his fingers digging into your hip was oddly arousing. You knew it’d be in your best interest to stop teasing him, but you just couldn’t find it in you. It was too amusing.

The familiar twitch of Jungkook’s cock warned you of his threatening orgasm. You attempted to move the slightest bit faster to speed up the process without giving away your presence.

You could feel his thighs tensing behind you; he was trying to prevent himself from coming but the attempt was futile.

“I’ll t-try to keep it d-down,” Jungkook said as he came inside you. The thought alone that his hot cum was shooting inside you as he talked to his fiancée was enough to get the fire in the pit of your stomach ablaze once again.

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. If you bit any harder you could’ve drawn blood.

Jungkook’s hot cum filled you up and then slowly seeped out of you, running down his dick and filling your panties. You continued to squeeze around him, milking him of all the cum that you could.

“It’s fine, I’m gonna get something to drink since I’m up,” she said. “Do you want anything?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

You felt the bed shift some more followed by light footsteps that grew softer with time. You heard a door open and close.

She was gone.

Jungkook’s heart was racing, he was so worried you were going to get caught. He didn’t know what would have happened if you did. You’d probably be executed before his very eyes, and he’d probably be disowned, worst case scenario.

Jungkook finally pulled out of you and exhaled loudly, “God, you’ll be the death of me some day.”

You laughed at his remark. He’s the one who’s going to be the death of you. You were the one who practically risked your life for this one moment. Of course, it takes two to tango, but you knew the royal family wouldn’t hesitate to put all the blame on you to uphold their honor.

“You know,” you smiled and craned your neck so you were looking into Jungkook’s deep brown eyes. “We have about twenty minutes before she comes back.”

You knew the palace like the back of your hand. It takes roughly ten minutes to get to the kitchen from Jungkook’s bedroom, and the princess still doesn’t quite know her way around yet so you might have more. That gave you plenty of time to go at it one more time.

Jungkook smirked at you, “Still not satisfied? You already came twice.”

“And I can do it a third time.”

“Fine, but you’re doing all the work this time,” Jungkook grinned.

You turned your body so you were chest to chest with Jungkook but still laying on your side, “Fine by me.” Your hands found their way to his hair, entangling your fingers with it. You kissed him softly, drinking in the way his lips felt against yours. You trailed small kisses up his sharp jawline and watched as he closed his eyes and stretched his neck, allowing you access to the exposed skin.

You really wanted to suck on his skin and give him hickeys similar to the ones he gave you, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t mark him the way he could you because even though you were his, he wasn’t yours.

You needed a change of positions.

Suddenly, you pushed Jungkook’s shoulder so he was laying flat on the bed, and you quickly threw a leg over his waist so you could straddle him. Pulling yourself up, you sat on Jungkook’s spent dick. You ground against it, bringing it back to life. You wished you weren’t still wearing your panties, it just made it harder for the both of you. All you wanted was to feel your skin on his.

Jungkook was struggling beneath you. You were so fucking hot, he just wanted to slam his cock into you again, wanted to give you more hickeys, wanted to hear you screaming his name with that pretty little mouth of yours.

You locked eyes with him, drowning in the image before you. Jungkook’s shirt was all wrinkled and one of the buttons was undone, his hair was a mess from you running your fingers through it, and his face was flushed. His entire demeanor screamed ‘wreck me’, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Once Jungkook’s dick was fully erect again, you grabbed it and pointed it to your awaiting entrance after pushing your panties to the side.

Jungkook grabbed your wrist, “I thought you wanted to taste me, Princess?”

Confused, you scooted back and placed yourself between his thick thighs, and you leaned forward, getting ready to give him a blow job.

Your mouth was open, centimeters away from his cock, when you heard Jungkook chuckle from above you. You looked up, a pout forming on your lips. “What? Why are you laughing?”

You watched as Jungkook gave you his signature sweet smile and shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes. “Come here.”

You sat up, and Jungkook grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. Once you were straddling his chest, his hands reached behind you and cupped your ass. Your eyes never left his, not even for a second.

He slid his hands up your back, sending tingles down your spine. You shivered under his touch. His fingers latched onto your bra, unhooking it, and for the first time that night, he saw your breasts and marveled at the sight of you. You never failed to take his breath away.

He slid the bra off your arms and threw the clothing onto the floor somewhere. Then he raked his hands down your back, leaving behind more marks that ultimately claimed you as his.

His hands were back on your ass. He massaged your cheeks before hooking his fingers through the waistband of your panties and sliding the material off of you. You moved his hands and finished taking the cum filled lingerie off yourself, dropping it onto the bed beside you.

Now, you were completely exposed, just the way Jungkook liked you. But it wasn’t fair to you that you were the only one undressed again, like last time. So you gingerly unbuttoned the rest of Jungkook’s shirt, revealing his toned chest. Your hands roamed his body.

Jungkook’s eyes never left yours as he brought his hand to your dripping cunt. You were surprised when he slowly shoved his fingers into you, curling them in on themselves. You slammed your eyes shut and your mouth fell open in shock. His fingers felt so fucking good.

Jungkook smirked beneath you as he continued to curl and scissor his fingers in and out of you. He curled his fingers one last time, scooping up some of his cum left inside you and then pulled out of you. He raised the digits dripping with his cum to your mouth, implicitly telling you to suck on them.

You obediently opened your mouth and sucked on his fingers, finally tasting him. The cum was slightly salty and surprisingly still warm. You let the cum coat your tongue, savoring the taste of him, and then you swallowed. Some of it dribbled down your lips and onto your chin. You stuck your tongue out and lapped up the thick substance.

Jungkook groaned at the sight of you. “Good girl,” he praised you. “Always so good for me. Now come on Princess, ride me.”

“But I thought you wanted to taste my pretty little cunt on your tongue,” you smirked at him, remembering he said that earlier. You planted your knees on the sides of Jungkook’s head and dropped yourself onto his open mouth.

Without hesitation, Jungkook licked a stripe from your clit to your entrance and then dipped his tongue inside you. You rutted against him until your clit brushed against his nose. You jerked your hips forward again, trying to put more friction on your clit.

Meanwhile Jungkook continued darting his tongue inside you and lapping up your arousal.

“Do I taste good?” You breathed. You continued to grind against his mouth, loving the erotic sounds of Jungkook eating you out.

“Yes, so fucking good,” he groaned and the vibrations sent waves of ecstasy through you. You arched your back and pinched one of your nipples, stimulating it. “I could taste you forever.”

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “I know you can do better than that.”

Jungkook grabbed your hips and stilled you and shoved his tongue deep inside you. Your juices trickled down Jungkook’s chin, soaking the collar of his shirt. He pulled his tongue out of you and focused on your needy bud. Your clit was always so sensitive, and if he focused on it, you knew you’d be coming in no time. That didn’t seem like a bad idea, though, since you had a limited amount of time before Jungkook’s fiancee came back.

“Ah! Jungkook!!” You screamed a little louder than you meant to.

“Scream my name, Princess.”

You chanted his name like a mantra as he sucked on your clit.

It wasn’t long before you were seeing stars again and the desperateness to come was ever present. “I’m close,” you warned Jungkook. “S-stop.” You didn’t want to come on his tongue but on his cock.

You lifted your hips so he couldn’t eat you out anymore. “D-don’t wanna come yet. W-wanna come on your cock.”

You stayed planted above Jungkook’s face, panting.

“Then what are you waiting for?” He asked.

You shimmied down his body until you were lined up with his cock. You grabbed the pulsing member and lowered yourself onto it. He didn’t give you the satisfaction of teasing him as he slammed into you to the hilt.

“F-fuck!”

You waited for him to drill his cock into at an absurd pace, but he didn’t. He put his arms behind his head and smiled up at you. “I told you you were going to do all the work.”

You groaned internally. You just wanted him to give it to you nice and rough to the point you’re feeling it the next day. You wanted to be aching all over, barely able to walk.

“You gonna move or-”

“Shut up.” You hissed and started moving your hips back and forth. After you adjusted to his length you pulled yourself off him and slammed your hips back down repeatedly.

“Fuck you’re so fucking good. Look at your tight little pussy swallowing me whole.” Jungkook threw his head back. You continued going hard against him, moving your hips around until he hit your g-spot.

The slapping of your ass against his hips flooded your ears. He was reaching so deep inside you. “Oh, my god!”

You squeezed your thighs together and rotated your hips. Now that his fiancee was gone, you didn’t have to keep your moans to yourself. Strangled moans escaped you; it was music to Jungkook’s ears.

His cock throbbed inside you, nearing his second orgasm of the night, and you were reaching your third. As you bounced on his cock, chasing after your high, Jungkook clenched his stomach and growled at the sensation of you.

He’ll never get tired of the image of you fucking yourself on him. He loved seeing you so fucked out.

You placed your hands on his chest, leaning forward. Your hair fell around you, covering your face. Jungkook pushed the strands back so he could see your face as you came all over him. He loved the way your mouth fell open as you silently moaned, letting the pleasure take over you. The way your eyes sparkled with bliss.

You needed to hurry - you didn’t know how long it’d been since his fiancée left, but you were sure she’d be coming back any minute now.

“You gonna come, Princess?” Jungkook grunted. “Gonna come all over my cock again?”

“Yes. Gonna come all over you like a little slut.” You hissed as your clit rubbed against his abdomen. You tightened around him feeling his pulsing member more distinctly. More choked sobs left your gaping mouth. “I-I’m coming!”

It didn’t take as long as usual for you to come all over Jungkook. You’d been trying to delay your third orgasm for awhile now, but you just couldn’t anymore.

You stilled on Jungkook’s dick. “Don’t stop now, I haven’t come yet.”

You sighed, too drained to continue moving. Jungkook took pity on you and began to fuck himself into you. “Don’t worry, baby, if you keep clenching like that I’ll be coming real soon.” So you kept clenching around him, trying to help him come faster. He fucked into you so rough that it hurt, but you were too tired to stop him. After a few more strokes, Jungkook yelled, “I’m coming!” And then his hot cum exploded inside you. He grunted and kept himself inside.

You fell onto his heaving chest. Your heavy breathing mixed with his as you two tried to catch your breath.

That was it.

That was the last time you’d ever have sex with Jungkook. Even though you were lying in his arms, his cock inside you, you couldn’t help but feel so indescribably lonely. Your eyes welled with tears.

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry, but you were never really able to easily control your emotions. A single tear fell onto Jungkook’s chest, and he quickly realized you were crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice. You didn’t look at him because you knew if you did you’d end up crying even harder.

Instead, you buried your face into his chest and inhaled the scent of him. You let yourself melt into his body. You wanted to tell him you loved him again, but you figured your words would only be met with silence, so why bother?

In less than twenty-four hours Jungkook will be married to another woman. He’ll hold her at night, tell her he loves her, and they’ll probably even have kids someday. You were so jealous that she gets to wake up to Jungkook and hear his morning voice and see his bedhead. Something that you’d always dreamed of doing. You were so jealous that he was hers and hers alone.

Jungkook ran his thumb under your eye, “Don’t cry.”

He reached over and grabbed his crown off the dresser and placed the gold item loosely on your head. “You’ll always be my princess,” Jungkook whispered.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister bellowed. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Jungkook and Jisoo in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, that is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. “Into this estate these two persons present come now to be joined.

“If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

You stood off to the side, alone, with a perfect view of Jungkook’s face. You wanted to scream and shout and let everyone know that you loved him, and that you should be the one marrying him, not her, but you kept your voice to yourself.

Watching the ceremony only hurt you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

When no one dared to speak up, the minister continued. Turning to Jungkook he said, “Mr. Jungkook, if you would repeat after me: I, Jungkook-”

“I, Jungkook,” he repeated.

“Take thee Jisoo-”

“Take thee Jisoo.”

“To be my wedded wife-”

Jungkook hesitated. His eyes drifted past his fiancée’s head and stared straight into yours. Your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes softened, and a somber smile filled his face. “To be my wedded wife.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health-”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.” Jungkook repeated, still staring into your eyes.

Tears welled in your eyes. It was like he was saying the vows to you. It felt as if there was no one else in the room but the two of you. Everything else seemed to fade away into nothing as you watched Jungkook.

“To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part.” The minister finished the vow.

“To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part.” Jungkook stated. His eyes bored into yours.

Silence fell around you, and you watched desperately as he mouthed three achingly painful words.

I loved you.

Part 3 (final)

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smuttyfairy · 7 years

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His Throne Pt.2 [JHS]

Genre: smut, angst

Word Count: 6,840

Tags: degradation, praise, fingering, face riding, dom!Hoseok, prince!Hoseok, infidelity, kinda exhibitionism

Written by: Admin Jifairy

A/N: Ahhh yes, it’s finally done. It’s not nearly as good as the first (imo) because I wasn’t as motivated to write this one. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! A huge thank you to admin Smutty for reviewing and editing my work!! (PCs to Vikttoria16)

I love you.

You wished you hadn’t said it.

But more importantly you wished he had.

If he had told you he loved you, you would’ve tried to convince him to run away with you. But apparently happy endings like that don’t happen to insignificant maids like you.

You thought about the last time you guys had sex, how unaware you were of the situation. You needed to sleep with him one last time - needed to properly memorize everything about him.

It was the night before Hoseok’s wedding when you decided to do just that.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Shh,” you brought your finger up to your lips and shushed the groggy and confused prince. He looked so cute with his hair all messy and his beautiful brown eyes looking up at you.

You set your candlestick beside Hoseok’s crown on the white victorian dresser next to his bed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Hoseok whispered, his voice raspy. He pulled himself up so he was leaning on his elbows, causing his shirt to tighten on his broad chest. You imagined your hands resting on it, your nails digging into his skin as he fucked you senseless. And then you realized what he said.

You shouldn’t be here… But that’s where he was wrong. You should be there. You should be there instead of her.

You looked to your right, beyond Hoseok, and saw his fiancee’s huddled body curled up in the covers next to him. Hoseok’s eyes trailed after yours and rested upon his sleeping fiancee, a slight snore escaping her.

You noticed the large space between the two. There was obviously no love in this bed.

You took a step closer to Hoseok and slowly pulled the sheets off of his body. You were trying to be as quiet as possible so that you didn’t wake his fiancee up. “One more time,” you whispered, gazing into Hoseok’s eyes. “You got your break up sex, but I didn’t get mine.”

“Are you crazy?” Hoseok hissed through his teeth. He looked at the sleeping body next to him before bringing his eyes to meet yours. “We can’t do that. Not now, not anymore.”

Hoseok pursed his lips together to prevent himself from groaning at the sight of you. Oh, how he missed your teasing. He shook his head, “Y/N… We can’t.”

“Come on, Hoseok,” you purred. “Don’t you wanna feel your cock inside me one last time?”

Even though you two were whispering, your voices felt so loud in the dead room. You were surprised Hoseok’s fiancee hadn’t woken up yet.

Hoseok closed his eyes and let himself fall onto the bed, making it shake and groan from the sudden movement. Immediately, he glanced over to ensure his fiancee hadn’t woken up because of it.

You silently chuckled to yourself at his nervousness even though the movement worried you as well.

Hoseok shielded his eyes with his forearm as he said, “God, you know I want to, but I’m engaged, and my fiancee is right fucking here.” He removed his arm from his eyes and gestured to her as if you didn’t already know.

“That just makes it all the more fun,” you smiled. You could faintly see Hoseok’s brows knit together with hesitation.

Hoseok wondered how you would even be able to fuck each other without waking his fiancee up. Would you ride him? Would he be on top?

You watched as Hoseok laid there, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t denied your remark, so you took that as a silent agreement on his part.

You stepped closer to the bed, your knees touching it, before gently placing a knee onto the bed. It sunk from the pressure, and Hoseok, falteringly, scooted back in the bed, providing you ample room to lay down.

Hoseok missed you. A lot. Ever since he’d gotten engaged, he hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see you. You were always busy tending to his pompous fiancee, and if you weren’t doing that you were off cleaning like a maid should. He hated that. He knew you deserved so much more than the life of a maid.

“Stop thinking,” you whispered. Hoseok seemed so distant and lost in his thoughts. He should be focused on you. On your willingness to give yourself to him. On your practically naked body in front of him. “Just fuck me.”

Letting his cock control his emotions, Hoseok grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer to his parted lips. You smiled at him and watched as his gaze lowered to your lips, admiring how kissable they looked. He licked at his lips before crashing them with yours. The slight smacking of your mouths working against each other echoed in the room, but it still wasn’t loud enough to disturb his sleeping fiancée.

Hoseok licked your bottom lip, begging for access. You opened your mouth, letting him snake his tongue into your mouth as he massaged your tongue with his. You wanted so badly to moan at the sensation, but you knew you shouldn’t.

Hoseok’s grip on your wrist tightened as he pulled you even further into the kiss. That familiar aching in your core began to build, and the need for friction between your legs was nearing unbearable. Your legs were going weak because of it. You brought your free hand up and rested it on the bed to keep yourself from falling.

Hoseok threaded his fingers through your silky hair, pressing your mouth even harder against his. You could feel your lips start to bruise from the pressure, but Hoseok didn’t lighten up on his ministrations.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled away from your lips, taking every bit of warmth with him. Your face was flushed, and you were out of breath.

Before you or Hoseok had a chance to catch your breath, you placed your other knee onto the bed. Then, you carefully laid down on your side next to him, your back pressed against his warm chest. Hoseok instantly wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand finding its way to the hem of your panties. That familiar, safe feeling of being wrapped in his arms flooded your senses.

You wished this didn’t have to be breakup sex. You wished it could just be sex.

Hoseok’s fingers grazed against your clit, bringing you out of your reverie. It was the slightest touch, but it caused waves of euphoria to ripple throughout your body, settling in your toes as they curled in on themselves.

Your mouth fell open as a silent moan escaped your lips.

Your hips instinctively bucked against his hand, searching for more pressure. When Hoseok’s hand didn’t give you the friction you needed, you arched your back and pressed your ass against his cock, feeling the hard member under the soft fabric of his pajamas. His cock settled between your cheeks before you rubbed your ass back and forth and in circular motions.

You could hear Hoseok inhale sharply from behind you.

You were going to continue teasing and torturing him until he touched your swollen clit.

Hoseok’s open mouth latched onto your shoulder, his teeth slightly brushing against your skin. He wanted to moan and whisper filthy strings of praise into your ear, but he knew the second he would there’d be no stopping him from growing in volume, and that’s the last thing you two needed.

Eventually, Hoseok took the hint and rubbed circles around your clit with his thumb. You quietly sighed at the pressure and stopped your attack on his cock. As Hoseok continued to play with your clit, his middle finger sliding up and down your slit, soaking it with your juices. Then, all at once, he shoved the digit into your aching, wet core.

Your thighs immediately clamped around his arm, trapping Hoseok’s finger inside you. Your eyes closed, and you could see stars in the back of your eyelids. His fingers were long and slender but filled you up and stretched you out so perfectly. He was able to reach spots within you that your own fingers couldn’t explore.

“Another,” you breathed, your voice nearly inaudible. “Add another finger, Hoseok.” Delicately, you opened your thighs so Hoseok could push another finger in, stretching you further.

The sound of Hoseok’s fingers working in and out of you filled your ears, your arousal evident. The noise was so intoxicating Hoseok could drown in it. His cock hardened beneath you, and precum began to drip from the tip. He needed friction just as much as you did.

Pressing his hips into you, Hoseok began to grind against your ass. His movements were slow and hesitant as to not shake the bed. It was unbelievably painful, and yet every time the head of his cock grazed against your ass, he couldn’t help but moan into your hair. You helped him out by moving your hips in circular motions again.

Hoseok added a third finger into your wet core and used his palm to rub your clit. His hand was beginning to cramp from the position his hand and arm were in, but he never slowed or stopped his fingers from pleasuring you.

You reached behind you and began to stroke Hoseok’s cock over his clothes. It was hot and heavy in your hand, and you could feel every pulse. You twisted your wrist back and forth as you pumped his cock and ran your thumb over his slit. You held him a little tighter and started to stroke faster and faster.

As you stroked faster, Hoseok began to scissor his fingers inside of you, brushing against your walls at an absurd pace.

“Hoseok! I’m-” You breathed heavily. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning his name even louder. Even though he was moving so fast, you needed him to go faster. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and you knew you were about to come all over them.

You were so focused on chasing your relief, you stopped stroking his cock.

“Come for me, Princess.” Hoseok whispered into your ear. His hot breath tickled on your skin, adding to the pleasure. You missed when he’d call you princess. You could forget you were a maid, forget he was engaged, forget all the difficulties that came with your relationship, and for the night you’d become a princess. During sex, you were his princess, and that’s the only princess you wanted to be. “Come all over my fingers.”

And with that command, you were coming all over him, your juices coating his hand and making a mess all over the sheets. Hoseok quietly groaned at the sensation of you tightening around him. You continued to clench around him as you came down from your high, and you tried hard to conceal your heavy breathing. Your body convulsed under his touch as he pulled his fingers out of you, gently brushing against your sensitive clit in the process.

“Shit,” you hissed.

You laid there for a second, regaining your breath. Hoseok removed his hand from your panties and brought the soaking wet digits to his mouth before sucking on them, tasting your arousal. “God, you taste so fucking good, I just wanna eat you out and feel your pretty little cunt on my tongue.”

You smiled at the praise before reaching behind you and stroking Hoseok’s cock again. You could feel the wetness of his precum soaking through his clothes.

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “Come for me; I wanna taste you, too.”

Before you could stroke him any faster, Hoseok grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “No,” he whispered. “I wanna come inside you. Wanna feel your tight little cunt clench around me, Princess.”

Before you had a chance to protest, Hoseok was pulling down the hem of his pajama bottoms. His cock sprung free from the cloth prison, hitting his stomach. With his right hand, Hoseok grabbed his member, and with his left, he lifted your leg up, providing him room to slide into your soaking entrance.

He pushed your panties aside as you held your leg up, waiting for him. Finally, you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He rubbed it back and forth, teasing you.

You closed your eyes and let your head loll back and rest against Hoseok’s firm chest. He leaned down and planted soft kisses into your hair and on your forehead, and then watched as his cock gradually disappeared into your heat.

He was moving so slow, inch by inch, admiring the way you swallowed him up. He was so close to coming just from feeling how tight and wet you were for him. Hoseok laid there, his cock inside you, as he tried to keep himself from coming. He tightened his stomach and pulled his lips into a thin line.

It was torture for the both of you.

“Fuck,” Hoseok rasped. “I love how tight you are, always so tight no matter how many times I fuck your pretty little pussy.”

“Stop talking and actually fuck me already,” you groaned.

Suddenly, Hoseok was thrusting into you at a slow and steady pace.

You missed the feeling of being filled to the brim with his cock. He was still the perfect size for you, like you two were made for each other.

As Hoseok continued his sweet pace, you wished you could see his face twist with pleasure as his hips met your ass, but all you could do was imagine the provocative image. That wasn’t very hard to do, though. You remember vividly the way Hoseok’s eyes turned to slits, the way his brows came together with concentration, and how he always chewed on his bottom lip right before he was about to come. The picture was forever etched into your mind because nothing was more satisfying than knowing you did that to him. Knowing you turned him into a horny, dazed mess.

“Faster.” The word slipped past your bruised and swollen lips.

“Can’t.” Hoseok grunted. He didn’t have to say why he couldn’t for you to understand.

His fiancée was the problem. If only she wasn’t lying five feet away from you, then Hoseok could fuck you with the frenzied urgency he usually did. But, unfortunately, he couldn’t, and it was killing him.

You grumbled internally. At the pace Hoseok was going, it would take forever before either of you came. Taking matters into your own hands, you lifted your hips and pulled off Hoseok’s cock until just the tip was left before slamming your ass back to meet his hips.

Hoseok hissed behind you, and you continued the motion. His hand immediately gripped your waist, tightly. His nails dug into your skin, marking your hips with crescent shaped bruises. With you moving your hips and Hoseok still thrusting into you, the movement became faster, to a pace that would easily get you off - although it wasn’t nearly as fast as you were accustomed to.

The slapping of your sweaty bodies grew louder, as a result.

What if Hoseok’s fiancée woke up? The thought was oddly exciting. Her waking up and finding her fiancé’s cock buried inside a lowly maid. Just thinking about the rage she’d be in made you cackle internally with amusement.

After a while, you began to rub at your aching clit that was begging for relief. The simultaneous stimulation of your clit and pussy made the heat pooling in your stomach spread like a wildfire.

With your free hand, you latched onto Hoseok’s soft hair and craned your neck so you could crash his lips with yours. You needed something to distract you from the mess of moans threatening to escape you. You let your moans die on Hoseok’s tongue, on his lips, and in the back of his throat.

Hoseok did the same as he groaned into your mouth. He couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect you were. How soft your lips were, how tight your cunt was, how your body fit perfectly in the crevices and curves of his. He couldn’t believe that he was fucking you again. It was painful enough coming to terms with thinking the last time y'all fucked would be the last time he would ever hold you so tight.

It might just break him letting you go a second time.

Before Hoseok could dwell on the painful memory, your breathy moans pulled him back to the present.

“I’m about to come,” you sighed against Hoseok’s lips.

“Again?” Hoseok smiled. “You love my cock that much, huh? I haven’t even come yet, Princess, why don’t you wait your fucking turn.”

You whined at his demand. Lucky for you, you knew just what gets him going. Stroking his ego always proved rewarding.

Hearing you beg made his cock twitch inside you, he loved when you talked dirty. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Hoseok whispered. He licked a stripe from the base of your neck to your ear before nibbling on it. The light touch made you shudder beneath him.

Suddenly, the slow and steady pace Hoseok was fucking you with turned violent and erratic. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat.

“Yes, just like that!” You mumbled. You arched your back and shoved your face into the pillow under your head, biting the fabric. Your muffled moans left Hoseok on cloud nine; they were more frequent and growing louder as you neared your second orgasm.

Hoseok clamped his hand over your mouth to shut you up. You stopped stimulating your clit and grabbed onto Hoseok’s arm, and you released your grip on his hair, letting your arm fall onto the bed.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, shit!” You cursed into Hoseok’s palm.

Just as you tightened around him, clenching your thighs together, Hoseok muttered, “If you keep doing that I’m gonna come.”

“N-nobody’s stopping you,” you smiled into his hand and closed your eyes.

Hoseok continued plunging his cock into you, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. After a few more thrusts, you came hard for the second time. Whimpers fell from your lips as your body convulsed beside his before, finally, going limp. You squeezed hard around one last time, causing him to groan your name loud and clear. “Fuck, Princess, I’m gonna-”

“Hoseok?” You heard a small voice from behind you. Your eyes shot open.

Hoseok immediately stilled inside you. His hand on your mouth pressed harder against your lips. You inhaled quickly through your nose before holding your breath.

Hoseok’s fiancée was awake.

With one swift quick motion Hoseok threw the blanket over the both of you, covering you up.

You felt Hoseok’s fiancée shift around in the bed beside you. “Why are you being so loud? Quit moving.” She mumbled, her voice groggy.

Even though you should be scared his fiancée was awake and worried she’d notice you, you couldn’t help but be amused by the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok apologized, trying to keep his voice steady. He was a little out of breath from fucking you. “I’m just a little restless since…” he paused and looked down at you. “Since we’re getting married tomorrow.”

You let go of the breath you were holding. You didn’t want to hear this.

To distract yourself from letting useless thoughts cloud your mind, you decided to have a little fun.

“Sorry for waking you,” Hoseok apologized again. As he continued to assure his fiancée everything was alright, you tightened yourself around him. “I-”

Just as he was about to say something else he choked at the sudden pressure on his cock. You smirked, loving his reaction.

“I-” He started again but was cut off by you swirling your hips, fucking yourself on his throbbing cock. “Shit.” He hissed under his breath.

“What?” His fiancée questioned, completely unaware of the situation.

You continued to fuck Hoseok, slowly lifting your hips and sinking back onto him. It turned you on knowing Hoseok was completely powerless in this situation.

You knew Hoseok was about to come right before his fiancée woke up, so it shouldn’t take long before he actually does.

“Nothing,” Hoseok grunted. His hand was at your waist again, his grip firm. The harsh pressure of his fingers digging into your hip was oddly arousing. You knew it’d be in your best interest to stop teasing him, but you just couldn’t find it in you. It was too amusing.

The familiar twitch of Hoseok’s cock warned you of his threatening orgasm. You attempted to move the slightest bit faster to speed up the process without giving away your presence.

You could feel his thighs tensing behind you; he was trying to prevent himself from coming but the attempt was futile.

“I’ll t-try to keep it d-down,” Hoseok said as he came inside you. The thought alone that his hot cum was shooting inside you as he talked to his fiancée was enough to get the fire in the pit of your stomach ablaze once again.

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. If you bit any harder you could’ve drawn blood.

Hoseok’s hot cum filled you up and then slowly seeped out of you, running down his dick and filling your panties. You continued to squeeze around him, milking him of all the cum that you could.

“It’s fine, I’m gonna get something to drink since I’m up,” she said. “Do you want anything?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

You felt the bed shift some more followed by light footsteps that grew softer with time. You heard a door open and close.

She was gone.

Hoseok’s heart was racing, he was so worried you were going to get caught. He didn’t know what would have happened if you did. You’d probably be executed before his very eyes, and he’d probably be disowned, worst case scenario.

Hoseok finally pulled out of you and exhaled loudly, “God, you’ll be the death of me some day.”

“You know,” you smiled and craned your neck so you were looking into Hoseok’s deep brown eyes. “We have about twenty minutes before she comes back.”

You knew the palace like the back of your hand. It takes roughly ten minutes to get to the kitchen from Hoseok’s bedroom, and the princess still doesn’t quite know her way around yet so you might have more. That gave you plenty of time to go at it one more time.

Hoseok smirked at you, “Still not satisfied? You already came twice.”

“And I can do it a third time.”

“Fine, but you’re doing all the work this time,” Hoseok grinned.

You turned your body so you were chest to chest with Hoseok but still laying on your side, “Fine by me.” Your hands found their way to his hair, entangling your fingers with it. You kissed him softly, drinking in the way his lips felt against yours. You trailed small kisses up his sharp jawline and watched as he closed his eyes and stretched his neck, allowing you access to the exposed skin.

You needed a change of positions.

Suddenly, you pushed Hoseok’s shoulder so he was laying flat on the bed, and you quickly threw a leg over his waist so you could straddle him. Pulling yourself up, you sat on Hoseok’s spent dick. You ground against it, bringing it back to life. You wished you weren’t still wearing your panties, it just made it harder for the both of you. All you wanted was to feel your skin on his.

Hoseok was struggling beneath you. You were so fucking hot, he just wanted to slam his cock into you again, wanted to give you more hickeys, wanted to hear you screaming his name with that pretty little mouth of yours.

You locked eyes with him, drowning in the image before you. Hoseok’s shirt was all wrinkled and one of the buttons was undone, his hair was a mess from you running your fingers through it, and his face was flushed. His entire demeanor screamed ‘wreck me’, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Once Hoseok’s dick was fully erect again, you grabbed it and pointed it to your awaiting entrance after pushing your panties to the side.

Hoseok grabbed your wrist, “I thought you wanted to taste me, Princess?”

Confused, you scooted back and placed yourself between his thick thighs, and you leaned forward, getting ready to give him a blow job.

Your mouth was open, centimeters away from his cock, when you heard Hoseok chuckle from above you. You looked up, a pout forming on your lips. “What? Why are you laughing?”

You watched as Hoseok gave you his signature sweet smile and shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes. “Come here.”

You sat up, and Hoseok grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. Once you were straddling his chest, his hands reached behind you and cupped your ass. Your eyes never left his, not even for a second.

He slid the bra off your arms and threw the clothing onto the floor somewhere. Then he raked his hands down your back, leaving behind more marks that ultimately claimed you as his.

Now, you were completely exposed, just the way Hoseok liked you. But it wasn’t fair to you that you were the only one undressed again, like last time. So you gingerly unbuttoned the rest of Hoseok’s shirt, revealing his toned chest. Your hands roamed his body.

Hoseok’s eyes never left yours as he brought his hand to your dripping cunt. You were surprised when he slowly shoved his fingers into you, curling them in on themselves. You slammed your eyes shut and your mouth fell open in shock. His fingers felt so fucking good.

Hoseok smirked beneath you as he continued to curl and scissor his fingers in and out of you. He curled his fingers one last time, scooping up some of his cum left inside you and then pulled out of you. He raised the digits dripping with his cum to your mouth, implicitly telling you to suck on them.

Hoseok groaned at the sight of you. “Good girl,” he praised you. “Always so good for me. Now come on Princess, ride me.”

“But I thought you wanted to taste my pretty little cunt on your tongue,” you smirked at him, remembering he said that earlier. You planted your knees on the sides of Hoseok’s head and dropped yourself onto his open mouth.

Without hesitation, Hoseok licked a stripe from your clit to your entrance and then dipped his tongue inside you. You rutted against him until your clit brushed against his nose. You jerked your hips forward again, trying to put more friction on your clit.

Meanwhile Hoseok continued darting his tongue inside you and lapping up your arousal.

“Do I taste good?” You breathed. You continued to grind against his mouth, loving the erotic sounds of Hoseok eating you out.

“Yes, so fucking good,” he groaned and the vibrations sent waves of ecstasy through you. You arched your back and pinched one of your nipples, stimulating it. “I could taste you forever.”

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “I know you can do better than that.”

Hoseok grabbed your hips and stilled you and shoved his tongue deep inside you. Your juices trickled down Hoseok’s chin, soaking the collar of his shirt. He pulled his tongue out of you and focused on your needy bud. Your clit was always so sensitive, and if he focused on it, you knew you’d be coming in no time. That didn’t seem like a bad idea, though, since you had a limited amount of time before Hoseok’s fiancee came back.

“Ah! Hoseok!!” You screamed a little louder than you meant to.

“Scream my name, Princess.”

You chanted his name like a mantra as he sucked on your clit.

It wasn’t long before you were seeing stars again and the desperateness to come was ever present. “I’m close,” you warned Hoseok. “S-stop.” You didn’t want to come on his tongue but on his cock.

You lifted your hips so he couldn’t eat you out anymore. “D-don’t wanna come yet. W-wanna come on your cock.”

You stayed planted above Hoseok’s face, panting.

“Then what are you waiting for?” He asked.

“F-fuck!”

You waited for him to drill his cock into at an absurd pace, but he didn’t. He put his arms behind his head and smiled up at you. “I told you you were going to do all the work.”

You groaned internally. You just wanted him to give it to you nice and rough to the point you’re feeling it the next day. You wanted to be aching all over, barely able to walk.

“You gonna move or-”

“Shut up.” You hissed and started moving your hips back and forth. After you adjusted to his length you pulled yourself off him and slammed your hips back down repeatedly.

“Fuck you’re so fucking good. Look at your tight little pussy swallowing me whole.” Hoseok threw his head back. You continued going hard against him, moving your hips around until he hit your g-spot.

The slapping of your ass against his hips flooded your ears. He was reaching so deep inside you. “Oh, my god!”

You squeezed your thighs together and rotated your hips. Now that his fiancee was gone, you didn’t have to keep your moans to yourself. Strangled moans escaped you; it was music to Hoseok’s ears.

His cock throbbed inside you, nearing his second orgasm of the night, and you were reaching your third. As you bounced on his cock, chasing after your high, Hoseok clenched his stomach and growled at the sensation of you.

He’ll never get tired of the image of you fucking yourself on him. He loved seeing you so fucked out.

You placed your hands on his chest, leaning forward. Your hair fell around you, covering your face. Hoseok pushed the strands back so he could see your face as you came all over him. He loved the way your mouth fell open as you silently moaned, letting the pleasure take over you. The way your eyes sparkled with bliss.

You needed to hurry - you didn’t know how long it’d been since his fiancée left, but you were sure she’d be coming back any minute now.

“You gonna come, Princess?” Hoseok grunted. “Gonna come all over my cock again?”

It didn’t take as long as usual for you to come all over Hoseok. You’d been trying to delay your third orgasm for awhile now, but you just couldn’t anymore.

You stilled on Hoseok’s dick. “Don’t stop now, I haven’t come yet.”

You sighed, too drained to continue moving. Hoseok took pity on you and began to fuck himself into you. “Don’t worry, baby, if you keep clenching like that I’ll be coming real soon.” So you kept clenching around him, trying to help him come faster. He fucked into you so rough that it hurt, but you were too tired to stop him. After a few more strokes, Hoseok yelled, “I’m coming!” And then his hot cum exploded inside you. He grunted and kept himself inside.

You fell onto his heaving chest. Your heavy breathing mixed with his as you two tried to catch your breath.

That was it.

That was the last time you’d ever have sex with Hoseok. Even though you were lying in his arms, his cock inside you, you couldn’t help but feel so indescribably lonely. Your eyes welled with tears.

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry, but you were never really able to easily control your emotions. A single tear fell onto Hoseok’s chest, and he quickly realized you were crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice. You didn’t look at him because you knew if you did you’d end up crying even harder.

In less than twenty-four hours Hoseok will be married to another woman. He’ll hold her at night, tell her he loves her, and they’ll probably even have kids someday. You were so jealous that she gets to wake up to Hoseok and hear his morning voice and see his bedhead. Something that you’d always dreamed of doing. You were so jealous that he was hers and hers alone.

Hoseok ran his thumb under your eye, “Don’t cry.”

He reached over and grabbed his crown off the dresser and placed the gold item loosely on your head. “You’ll always be my princess,” Hoseok whispered.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister bellowed. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Hoseok and Jisoo in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, that is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. “Into this estate these two persons present come now to be joined.

“If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

You stood off to the side, alone, with a perfect view of Hoseok’s face. You wanted to scream and shout and let everyone know that you loved him, and that you should be the one marrying him, not her, but you kept your voice to yourself.

Watching the ceremony only hurt you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

When no one dared to speak up, the minister continued. Turning to Hoseok he said, “Mr. Hoseok, if you would repeat after me: I, Hoseok-”

“I, Hoseok,” he repeated.

“Take thee Jisoo-”

“Take thee Jisoo.”

“To be my wedded wife-”

Hoseok hesitated. His eyes drifted past his fiancée’s head and stared straight into yours. Your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes softened, and a somber smile filled his face. “To be my wedded wife.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health-”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.” Hoseok repeated, still staring into your eyes.

“To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part.” The minister finished the vow.

“To love, honor, and cherish, 'til death do us part.” Hoseok stated. His eyes bored into yours.

Silence fell around you, and you watched desperately as he mouthed three achingly painful words.

I loved you.

Part three (final)

#im sorry that wasn't my best work #bts #hoseok #bts hoseok #bts smut #bts angst #hoseok smut #hoseok angst #jhope smut #jhope angst #bts jhope #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope scenarios #jhope

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dustedmagazine · 7 years

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Listening Post, March 2017

It’s been a while since the Dusted staff has gone over the things we’ve been listening to (besides what we’re reviewing) of course, and a (relatively) new year and some new faces seemed like as good an occasion as any. Some witchcraft-based Liars reminiscing starts us off for a conversation that covers everything from the powerful emotions of the new Mount Eerie to a percussion record you can’t get digitally to the blues, and much, much more...

Ian Mathers

I guess one of the things about getting older as a music fan is that there's more chances with every year and every crop of new acts/albums to have a band you love but haven't played or thought about in a while pop into your head apropos of basically nothing. I still remember being back home some holiday weekend in my first year of university, idly flipping on MuchMusic, and seeing Ladytron's video for "Playgirl". It was shockingly out of step with what people were doing in 2001 (or at least what I was paying attention to), and I simultaneously loved it and felt vaguely marginal for doing so. Remembering "Playgirl" had me going back to their old albums, and slightly to my surprise I found that while I love them all (including 604, the most overtly throwback-y) the one that's aged the best is actually their slightly atypical synthpop/shoegaze (synthgaze? shoepop?) Witching Hour, from 2005.

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My wife saw The Witch (or, I guess, The VVitch) when it played as part of the Toronto International Film Festival two years ago, and had been after me to watch it with her ever since, but I only felt in the right mood for it recently. Sure enough I loved it, but while I did think the score/sound design were great, ultimately it mostly had me reaching for my favourite Liars album (and, I suspect more and more, one of my favourite albums full stop), They Were Wrong, So We Drowned. It is, uh, not an optimistic record when it comes to human nature, politics, empathy, xenophobia, etc. I wish this didn't feel like such an apposite historical moment to brace ourselves and remember that sometimes there's just no avoiding the steamroller (cf. "Hold Hands and it Will Happen Anyways”). That the album tries anyways, if for nothing else than at least to leave a record of the injustice, feels important.

Damien Jurado, who has some fans here at Dusted, is a guy who's work I always respect but oddly enough generally can't get into that much; the exception is his 2006 album And Now That I'm in Your Shadow. I found myself listening to it late one night recently, which really is the perfect time for the record. I'd hesitate to call it a narrative, let alone anything like a concept album, but conceptually and emotionally it feels very much of a piece; whether or not these are the same people or even the same places the songs are suffused with desolation, infidelity, murder, loneliness. I've given his more recent work a listen or two and it's always been good but I think it's that for me And Now That I'm in Your Shadow is so singular in effect that Jurado's other work in the Catch 22 of me wanting it both to be exactly the same and somehow not just a retread. I do like one earlier (and creepier) song I heard somewhere, "Amateur Night", so maybe I should just find the album that's on and go from there. But maybe someone here has guidance for me.

Jennifer Kelly

Oh, Ian, you have just brought up two bands I LOVE, and, god dammit, we like different albums.

Per Liars, I am a dyed-in-the-wood They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top fan. It was my gateway, for one thing, to ESG. I am also partial to a split they did early on with Oneida, one of those you-cover-mine-and-I'll-cover-yours deals, so here they are revisiting "Rose and Licorice."

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One of the top live experiences of my entire life was a show with Yeah Yeah Yeahs opening (after the first EP, before the first album), Liars (just off Trench) and Sonic Youth (I'm thinking maybe Murray Street?), where I just kept saying, this cannot get any better, the next band will be a let-down, and then the next band ratcheted it up and obliterated everything before it.

I also like that Jurado album, which was, I believe, the last one before he hooked up with Richard Swift and went less acoustic folk, more psychedelic, but my favorite ever of his is Mariqopa. I feel like he kinda flattened out the mythology by explaining it (circa Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Sun), but in this album it's just sort of luminously, weirdly there, like a spaceship in the middle of a cornfield. You have no idea what it's about, and that makes it about everything.

Bill Meyer

I can't contribute much to discussion of the Liars or Jurado; neither exerts much attraction upon me. Two records that have ben drawing me back are Jon Mueller's DHRAANWDN (aka Hand Drawn) (Rhythmplex) and Eli Keszler's Last Signs Of Speed (Empty Edition). Both are limited edition double LPs by drummers, and both transcend whatever expectations you might have of a drummer's record. Beyond that they are very different. Mueller's comprises four sides of solo performance drawn from a six hour session he recorded in a Shaker meeting house. The drum kit plays the room's acoustics, resulting in waves of surging, polyrythmic sound. The sleeve, which varies a lot of white space with die-cut cut-outs that reveal a text about transformative experience and images of human-free environments, expresses the album's titular concept, as does the fact that you can only buy the physical object - there aren't even any digital promos.

Keszler's album, on the other hand, is a response to his performances over the past couple years at electronic music and dance venues. The extravagant bass presence counterbalances the precisely choreographed blizzard of discrete sounds that he generates with the rest of his kit, creating an impression of multi-dimensional space. Keszler creates a virtual space in part through physical effort, while Mueller inhabits a space that is physical but devoted to the spiritual. Both records are beyond solid.

Derek Taylor

I can’t really speak to any of Ian’s musical selections so I’ll speak to his filmic one instead. I too loved the The VVitch for its exacting verisimilitude and expertly wrought and rising dread. Lots of great themes to unpack therein and Robert Eggers decision to go all in on a “what if there was actual veracity to events presaging to the Salem hysteria” scenario is a bold one as is the “damned if they do, damned if they don’t” plot arc of the film. Great casting too and a hair-raisingly satisfying denouement in the primeval (or is that prime evil?) woods that still sticks with me.

As to listening it’s been the usual juggle of new releases with older favorites. On the former front there’s, Deuce, tenorist Stephen Riley’s latest duo with pianist Peter Zak. The pair has a previous encounter and two more with Zak as a member of Riley’s quartet. It’s the usual amalgam of ancient standards this time with three interstitial “Interludes” by Riley interspersed and a gorgeous rendering of Joe Henderson’s “Tetragon”. They also tackle my favorite standard “Everything Happens to Me”, Riley pulling apart and contorting the melody like fluffy cotton candy with his inimitable hardened-reed rasp and without losing sight of the gentle fatalism at the tune’s core.

In terms of classics, it’s been the series of bootlegs documenting the Charles Mingus Sextet/Quintet's 1964 American/European tour (Cornell, Town Hall, Amsterdam, Oslo, Stockholm, Copenhagen, Bremen, Paris x2, Wuppertal, and Stuttgart). Every date has its ample charms, but the Cornell University hit released on Blue Note back in ’07 is the one I go back to most frequently, both for the quality of the concert and its capture on tape. Trumpeter Johnny Coles had yet to fall ill and is featured splendidly alongside Eric Dolphy and Clifford Jordan and calling Jaki Byard and Dannie Richmond a rhythm section is like reductively referring to James Baldwin as an African American author, it barely scratches the surface.

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Bill Meyer: Peak Mingus!

Jennifer Kelly: Have any of you been listening to Mount Eerie's A Crow Looked at Me? So powerful, so beautiful, absolutely harrowing...but I can't imagine how you could possibly review it.

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Bill Meyer: I've never listened to Mount Eerie much, but this one is in my inbox and I didn't delete it because of the story attached to it. I think I need to check it out.

Ian Mathers: I need to get my hands on that Mount Eerie and listen, but I'll admit to being a bit daunted... my mother-in-law died in 2015 and it made (for example) the Sufjan Stevens album from last year a simultaneously important and really challenging listen. My wife is still dealing with a lot of the emotional fallout, and we are both Microphones fans from back in the day, so I might give it some solo listens first, so she has some idea of how tough it might be.

Jenny, I absolutely adore They Threw Us All in a Trench... too, I wish I'd had the chance to see them around then! I'm sure they're still good in concert, but there's something about that record that seems like it would be ferocious live. And your cornfield spaceship description honestly makes me really excited to check out Mariqopa—honestly the fact that Jurado did extend the mythology made me a bit wary, but as a standalone maybe I can approach it.

Bill, that Kezsler sample is pretty damn interesting.

Mason Jones

I'm a fan of Liars' They Threw Us... as well, and saw them around that time here in SF playing with Animal Collective if I recall correctly. They put on an entertaining show. That album and They Were Wrong... were both pretty powerful at the time, and then they lost steam somehow and became more predictable. Interestingly I thought their most recent album, Mess, was an improvement. Though slicker than it needed to be, there were good ideas percolating through it.

On the newer side, I've been surprised by how much I'm enjoying the newest Grails album, Chalice Hymnal. It's a pretty great combination of heaviness, stonedness, and kosmische rock. I also stumbled on the self-titled album by Helén, which is intriguing. Some is reminiscent of early Circle given the strong rhythmic foundation, but it gets into some rock-epic portions and, I don't know, prog-opera-something? Hard to describe and I haven't made up my mind whether it all works or not. But it's a worthy listen.

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Bill Meyer: All right, I'm going to check out Mount Eerie.

I'll mention one other thing I've been playing lately. Having spent a bit of time with the Bruce Langhorne tribute album The Hired Hands this past month and the excellent Robbie Basho tribute Basket Full Of Dragons last fall, I'm ready to turn down my disdain for tribute records - at least when they involve very strong acoustic musicians honoring a great guitar player. So I dug out the first Basho Tribute, We Are All One, In The Sun, which was released by Important Records in 2010. I've been playing it over and over. Like Dragons, it was assembled by Buck Curran , who sure knows how to pick people who know their Basho. It begins and ends with Steffen Basho-Junghans playing variations on a couple of his namesake's tunes on a 12-string, and his lyric extrapolations make me really wish he would put out another record and finally tour the USA. But that's not to slight the excellent contributions by Meg Baird, Helena Espvall, and several others.

Brett Marion

I was witness to that same fantastic Liars/Yeah Yeah Yeahs tour leg too, caught them upstairs at the Magic Stick in Detroit. I was pretty smitten with Karen O at the time—from the cover of that first ep, and the range of her vocals—sometimes country accent, sometimes speak-sing, sometimes fragile, like on that “Crimson & Clover”-esque last song, “Our Time,” and then how she impossibly strangles the title to “aaaaaaaarrrrrrt staaaaaarrrr.” And Liars’ Angus Andrews seemed like seven feet tall. He might be. Great stage presence, both bands—exuding lots of confidence and attitude—but naïve, friendly, and approachable. I liked Trench a lot but thought They Were Wrong, So We Drowned was even better—it just nailed an overall Halloween feel.

Lately, I’ve had a hard time digging too deep in any one direction. The last half year or so I’ve been doing okay keeping up with Stephan Mathieu’s ambitious 12 CD release, Radiance, issued one month at a time, I think he’s through about ten so far. The last two, To Have Elements Exist In Space and Feldman have been one-track near hour-long pieces, so I haven’t made it all the way through those yet. The newest Six Organs of Admittance, Taylor Deupree, and PAN label stuff have been on, but not absorbed entirely. I also find myself getting sidetracked with making compilations that I occasionally post on Mixcloud (sort of the whole ‘80s-‘90s ‘mixtape’ thingy I’m sure we’ve all done for people), my latest—not completed—mixes/drafts being a ‘beginner’s guide to Alice Coltrane’ and ‘GAS,’ but it’s always a long process and I only ever get around to completing one or two a year, tops.

Bill Meyer: What does Mathieu sound like these days? I'm a bit out of the loop, although I have enjoyed some of his records immensely in the past.

Brett Marion: He sounds quite a bit like he always has—that grainy, shifting textural drone. Some tracks hit where it hurts so good, while others… meh. The last few year’s it seems he’s been into exploring more long-form pieces. One release, Nachtstucke, from 2015, featured a one hour piece, a piece over two hours, then two more around the half an hour mark. I wonder how many have made it through that over two hour piece more than once.

Bill Meyer: Well, I did just buy an LP he made with Kassel Jaeger and Akira Rabelai, I'll see how that one goes. Can't get everything.

Matt Wuethrich

I assume you mean Zauberberg on Shelter Press, Bill? Excellent LP. It's very diffuse in structure but still feels like there's a lot to take in. It's kind of a marvel how they embed they approaches within each other and shapeshift through different sonic spaces (Mathieu's manipulations of mechanical/acoustic historical recordings, Jaeger's field recordings, Rabelai’s digital treatments).

In my own listening I've been pretty deep into the official reissue of Giusto Pio's Motore immobile on Soave, sublime minimalism from Italy that first probably appeared on most people's radar through Alan Licht's minimalism lists (specifically Minimalism Top Ten III). Just organ/piano, voice and violin. Rich and hypnotic.

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Bill Meyer: Yes, that's the one. I haven't scratched the surface but I am glad to hear that you find it deep. Gotta check out the Pio.

Justin Cober-Lake

I've been digging into a somewhat random cross-section of blues recently, connected to a project looking at possible points of connection between that genre and psalms of lamentation and maybe the book of Lamentations (though that may have a different focus). I don't have much to say on the subject yet, but I've been thinking about how the hill country artists really dig into an issue and stick there until it's worked out (or until the tape runs out or whatever). Charles Caldwell is the guy standing out to me right now, particularly his confused complaint on "Hadn't I Been Good to You." The Junior Kimbrough I grabbed this morning, All Night Long, was a sort of comical comparison, since it's largely a sex album.

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There's something about the groove that makes this connection more noticeable, though I'm not sure how much it will translate to trance-blues acts like Otis Taylor (or even R.L. Burnside) who often use repetition more to set up storytelling or to do other things.

Derek Taylor: That’s an area of music near & dear to me, Justin. I coincidentally spun that Caldwell album this weekend too after re-opening a rabbit hole with the George Mitchell Collection box set. Such a shame it was Caldwell's first & last. Kimbrough (and really nearly all of those hill country guys from Burnside on down to T Model Ford) had copulation on the brain much of the time and its more misogynistic manifestations ("You Better Run") more often that I'd like.

I remember catching Burnside prior to & during the self-parody phases of his career and being pretty demoralized by the latter seeing him run through the tropes (“Well, well, well…”), and take copious swigs off a decapitated kewpie doll filled to the severed neck w/ whiskey. T-Model Ford was like that too (“It’s Jack Daniel’s Time!!!”, apparently between EVERY song). Fat Possum did a lot of arguable good in getting those guys gigs/tours/etc., but they did a fair share of bad too in enabling/reinforcing a lot of their worst tendencies.

Guessing you‘re familiar w/ Mitchell & the box, but if not I can’t recommend it highly enough. Mitchell did work similar to the Lomaxes, but with a level of candor & self-awareness that they often lacked. The accompanying booklet is nearly as priceless as the music as it’s filled with anecdotes of Mitchell’s travels & encounters, often hilariously so. This missive about Big Joe Williams is one of my favorites as it really captures the essence of the guy: "At one point, we drove with him down to St. Louis to find Walter Davis and Henry Townsend. On the way down, Big Joe announced that he had to take a shit, and I told him we'd pull into the next service station. And he said, "No, I like country shits. Just pull over to the side of the road—I want to take me a good old country shit."

Matt Wuethrich: A big, big second on that George Mitchell set...it seems to be rather low profile considering the wealth of material on it. Every time I spin it I discover some new gem. (For five discs, it's relatively inexpensive, too.)

Jennifer Kelly: Anyone else (besides Bill Meyer, who’s reviewed it) into that new Tinariwen? And, quick question, if anyone has access to liners, is that Mark Lanegan?

Also really, really digging that the Bug Vs. Earth collaboration, so dark and clanky and post-atom-bomb-ish, exactly what I need at this point.

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Bill Meyer: That’s Lanegan.

Ian Mathers: I've heard you and others praise the Bug Vs. Earth album, Jenny, and honestly the two make for such weirdly fitting collaborators I'd want to check it out just based on the combination. "Dark and clanky and post-atom-bomb-ish" sounds about perfect for 2017. Would you mind uploading it to the drive at some point?

The blues are one of those genres where I know I like at least some of it, but something's kept me from going much deeper with it. My dad got the (de rigeur, I assume) Robert Johnson box set when I was a kid and I love a lot of that, and I've gotten the odd album or comp I've loved from Son House or Howlin' Wolf or Buddy Guy (in the latter case, specifically Sweet Tea) but that itch feels mostly scratched at this point?

Bill Meyer: I just listened to a bit of it, Ian. Yeah, it's dark and clanky all right. I think the sounds are cool, and I'm intrigued that the Bug has cottoned to Earth's restraint. I expected an attempt to lure Earth into less measured venting of darkness.

Derek Taylor: Guy’s Sweet Tea is a curious case as it involved him jumping on the Hill Country bandwagon w/ Kimbrough & Cedell Davis covers and a Fat Possum production facsimile. Some called it a crass cash-in, others a sincere stab at homage. I don’t go back to it often & when I do just in doses, but considering Guy’s place in the music I’m inclined to go with the latter take. Guy’s been a proponent of commercially viable blues since he got his start in Chicago with Muddy Waters, so it makes sense that he would be attracted the Fat Possum aesthetic at that time although the guys there have taken pains over the years to stress just how shakey that business paradigm is in the larger music business scheme.

Speaking of Davis, he’s definitely one to delve into especially the early material released on the L+R Living Country Blues USA series, half a cd, Highway 61, on the Wolf label, and his first for Fat Possum, Feel Like Doin’ Something Wrong. Utterly unique approach to slide guitar necessitated by partial paralysis from a youthful bout with polio. Some enterprising (if largely erroneous) journalist dubbed him the “Ornette Coleman of blues guitar”, if I recall correctly, for his ability to make familiar fascinatingly foreign through tonal plasticity. He’s apparently still kicking at 89 and put a record out last year. Some vintage footage:

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Ben Donnelly

Liars’ dedication to conceptual switcheroos shows the long-term hazards of being dedicated to approaching each album as a blank slate. My fatigue has generally increased each time I try out the latest Liars, to the point that I don't check their releases out right away. I'm sure I'm missing some gems in there, and suspect it will all make more sense in the future. The ramblings of The Fall and Wire fifteen years into their careers makes more sense now. That said, that first pivot between the on-trend disco punk to graveyard junkyard percussion was landmark, one of those moments where the leading edge re-shuffles the received history. The arc from 1981 Danceteria to No Wave to Einstruzende Neubauten is pretty direct, but by 2000, all I could see was that one end resulted in "Love Shack" and the other in post-rock. Liars sent out a big signal - they were looking at history differently, felt free to jump between the connections they saw, and their revision enlivened everything. The early single "You Know I Hate Stupid Phones" goes a lot of places in two minutes, one of those gems that gets lost in their constant shuffle:

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Ladytron I like even better. Artists who are so ready for Vogue Italia will always be held in suspicion in less fashionable quarters. I liken them to Siouxsie and the Banshees: art bands who are facile with hooks and glamour to the extent that it's easy to underestimate them. Approaching both, there's the temptation to put aside the style statements and the associations with lesser goth/electro acts and try take the brilliant singles and remixes as stand-alone artifacts. But that's a mistake—the mascara is as necessary as with Bowie and Prince. When they declared "they only want you when you're seventeen, when you're twenty one you're no fun" it's impossible to tell which side of the cynicism holds their sympathies. Probably both, which is why their best tracks frequently slap me like I haven't heard them a hundred times. This high concept obscurity, Missy Elliot rethought as Japanese synth-punk, still bewilders.

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Ian Mathers: Derek, that Cedell Davis video is damn good, I'll have to track down an album.

Ben, I can't believe I forgot to mention Ladytron's "Oops" cover—literally one of one my favourite covers ever, and one where I love both it and the original about equally in a way that means I don't even know which one I'd pick if forced to (and also, incidentally, the place where Ladytron got closest to Add N to (X), if anyone remembers them). That early Liars track, though, I'd somehow never heard. I really, really love the bass sound on their early records.

Derek Taylor: Tenorist Fred Anderson’s birthday yesterday (he would’ve been 88) sparked a shelf perusal of his work. The flurry of activity in his final years leaves a pretty respectable discography. I opted for Black Horn Long Gone on Southport, a ’90 studio trio session in Chicago with Malachi Favors and the erstwhile AJ Shelton released in ’09. It’s a loose & limber date with Favors negotiating Fred’s singular horn vernacular in a sometimes akimbo manner that takes a bit of getting used to. Shelton, operating under his woke moniker Ajaramu, isn’t always entirely on the same page either, but occasional surface discombobulations don’t detract in the least from the deep reservoir of feeling feeding the music. The solo “Ode to Clifford Jordan” is the rare chance on record to hear Fred in that format for the duration of a piece.

Time spent with Anderson usually means revisiting the other two Freds that comprise my Fred triumvirate, McDowell & Wesley. Currently ears-deep in the Arhoolie collection Good Morning Little School Girl which cherry-picks from McDowell’s Janus-worthy repertoire of blues and spirituals. His wife Annie Mae & a small contingent from their Como, MS congregation join him on a couple of the latter.

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thedianelockhartsurvey · 7 years

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Q27. How do you feel about Kurt cheating on Diane?

53 out of 58 respondents answered this question.

You can read all answers under the cut.

- NO. It doesn't make sense. After TGW I assumed he didn't actually cheat but Alicia only used the possibility of infidelity to undercut his testimony. - I think it's completely out of character. I've kind of accepted it now but still I find it absolutely ridiculous and unbelievable. - Stupid writer's to throw him under the bus that way - Honestly I will never really believe it. But I have accepted it, and if they are all right in the end I will be happy. - Hated it - completely out of character - ugh, not good? ooc and all that jazz - Sadd - I'm still in disbelief. We've known Kurt for 7 previous years on TGW, and that Kurt wouldn't cheat. Denial could be a better word, in my mind I'm saying they had marital issues and not an affair. - I personally can't comprehend still, how or why they decided to have Kurt cheat because I personally don't see it in his nature as we've seen him grow so much, but I mean, it happens I guess. Like I said, it's just hard to comprehend him doing something like that because he's so crazy about Diane. - I thought it was so out of character, but for dramatic purposes I think it was possibly the right decision to take (pls don't hate me) - Pissed - The cheating bastard doesn't deserve Diane - He's an arse for cheating and it baffles me how he could have been so stupid, but they clearly still love each other - It was awful,very hard to process and it still makes me angry when I think about it. - I'm still not convinced he cheated. I don't believe that is in character. I understand that's what the writers decided to do, but based on the 7 seasons he was on TGW I still don't buy it. - Completely OOC - I think it is a betrayal that he will have to come back from. Their relationship still needs patching up. - Asshole - OOC tbh. But accepting that it happened -- I have to imagine he was in the moment and forgot getting married meant their relationship changed... which it didn't have to but I think it's clear *Diane* expected a certain level of commitment based on marriage. - Absolutely not done! - I don't think Kurt (being Kurt) would ever do that, but having to accept it becaus of the plot- he's not defined by that mistake and he's a wonderful man who makes Diane happy. I'm not giving up on them. - I hate it, it's just cheap drama. - In TGW-land: never happened, that was some nonsense, no. In TGF, I want to see them work it out. - It seemed uncharacteristic. - Awful, I wish it hadn't happened. - It doesn't fit with what we know of the character. - 1,000,000% WOULD NEVER HAPPEN - I thought it was a good storyline but a bit too close to The Good Wife - I think he's a piece of shit. - I was surprised they hadn't lived together in three years! - Uh, what do you mean, Kurt cheated on Diane? That didn't happen. Next question! (No but really, it's hard to have any feelings about Kurt cheating on Diane when I don't believe he ever would.) - I think its unrealistic and kinda unnecessary - Honestly, even after watching TGW finale a few times, and then stressing out about McHart for months afterwards, and after watching all of TGF and seeing Kurt (kind of?) admit to it... I still can't really bring myself to believe it happened. It's so out of left field and out of character for him. So while I know intellectually that the infidelity actually happened, I struggle to feel like it did. The way Gary plays it, sometimes I wonder if even he really believes it. That being said, my immediate reaction was abject horror and that feeling hasn't gone away. - Hurt and I don't understand why he did it. Almost hate him but not yet. I'll wait to see him talk to her about it and I'll decide to hate him again. - Maybe it's because we only ever see him through Diane and she never saw it coming, but it did not seem in-character to me. When the possibility was presented in TGW finale, I didn't believe it and thought it was only brought up to sabatoge him on the stand, not because it was actually true. When TGF started, it felt to me that the cheating and separation was put in there so that Diane's character could be in pain and down on her luck on all fronts. I think that what happened there really could be fleshed out better, especially in a way that allows us to hear about what Kurt was thinking from Kurt himself. - I think after the finale I finally accepted that it's the truth. Guess it was time. If Diane can forgive him, so can I. It still hurts though. - Still think it's OOC for him but I accepted it - I don't like it I think it was out of character especially considering how things were moving along before hand - I think it was the obvious given that for them to be together it must have some kind of drama, and cheating was the most explored kind in The Good Wife. - Broken - Need the details to decide - Very bad and stupid - Disappointed - I think he did it. Not happy about it, but he seems to be regretful and sincere. - It's the past - Ugh but necessary plot tension - I'm still pissed from that but in episode 10 it was nice to see them talk about it more. But I hope in a way he has to fight for Diane and for their marriage because I haven't seen a whole lot of emotion from him. Hopefully more Gary Cole in next season! - I still can't believe that he would - Horrible - I don`t like it. - Came out of left field. - I was not surprised, but was disappointed. I kind of wanted their relationship to stay pure and if they were gonna have something rupture their union then I would have prefered it to be a legal issue via her job or their conflicting beliefs or something more complex rather than him simply cheating. - I wasn't happy at all and I was angry but I think he deserves a second chance

#the good fight #diane lockhart

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jiminsa · 7 years

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His Throne [PJM] | 02

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 6,840

Tags: degradation, praise, fingering, face riding, dom!Jimin, prince!Jimin, infidelity, kinda exhibitionism

A/N: Ahhh yes, it’s finally done. It’s not nearly as good as the first (imo) because I wasn’t as motivated to write this one. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! (PCs to Vikttoria16)

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03

I love you.

You wished you hadn’t said it.

But more importantly you wished he had.

If he had told you he loved you, you would’ve tried to convince him to run away with you. But apparently happy endings like that don’t happen to insignificant maids like you.

You thought about the last time you guys had sex, how unaware you were of the situation. You needed to sleep with him one last time - needed to properly memorize everything about him.

It was the night before Jimin’s wedding when you decided to do just that.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Shh,” you brought your finger up to your lips and shushed the groggy and confused prince. He looked so cute with his hair all messy and his beautiful brown eyes looking up at you.

You set your candlestick beside Jimin’s crown on the white victorian dresser next to his bed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jimin whispered, his voice raspy. He pulled himself up so he was leaning on his elbows, causing his shirt to tighten on his broad chest. You imagined your hands resting on it, your nails digging into his skin as he fucked you senseless. And then you realized what he said.

You shouldn’t be here… But that’s where he was wrong. You should be there. You should be there instead of her.

You looked to your right, beyond Jimin, and saw his fiancee’s huddled body curled up in the covers next to him. Jimin’s eyes trailed after yours and rested upon his sleeping fiancee, a slight snore escaping her.

You noticed the large space between the two. There was obviously no love in this bed.

You took a step closer to Jimin and slowly pulled the sheets off of his body. You were trying to be as quiet as possible so that you didn’t wake his fiancee up. “One more time,” you whispered, gazing into Jimin’s eyes. “You got your break up sex, but I didn’t get mine.”

“Are you crazy?” Jimin hissed through his teeth. He looked at the sleeping body next to him before bringing his eyes to meet yours. “We can’t do that. Not now, not anymore.”

Jimin pursed his lips together to prevent himself from groaning at the sight of you. Oh, how he missed your teasing. He shook his head, “Y/N… We can’t.”

“Come on, Jimin,” you purred. “Don’t you wanna feel your cock inside me one last time?”

Even though you two were whispering, your voices felt so loud in the dead room. You were surprised Jimin’s fiancee hadn’t woken up yet.

Jimin closed his eyes and let himself fall onto the bed, making it shake and groan from the sudden movement. Immediately, he glanced over to ensure his fiancee hadn’t woken up because of it.

You silently chuckled to yourself at his nervousness even though the movement worried you as well.

Jimin shielded his eyes with his forearm as he said, “God, you know I want to, but I’m engaged, and my fiancee is right fucking here.” He removed his arm from his eyes and gestured to her as if you didn’t already know.

“That just makes it all the more fun,” you smiled. You could faintly see Jimin’s brows knit together with hesitation.

Jimin wondered how you would even be able to fuck each other without waking his fiancee up. Would you ride him? Would he be on top?

You watched as Jimin laid there, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t denied your remark, so you took that as a silent agreement on his part.

You stepped closer to the bed, your knees touching it, before gently placing a knee onto the bed. It sunk from the pressure, and Jimin, falteringly, scooted back in the bed, providing you ample room to lay down.

Jimin missed you. A lot. Ever since he’d gotten engaged, he hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see you. You were always busy tending to his pompous fiancee, and if you weren’t doing that you were off cleaning like a maid should. He hated that. He knew you deserved so much more than the life of a maid.

“Stop thinking,” you whispered. Jimin seemed so distant and lost in his thoughts. He should be focused on you. On your willingness to give yourself to him. On your practically naked body in front of him. “Just fuck me.”

Letting his cock control his emotions, Jimin grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer to his parted lips. You smiled at him and watched as his gaze lowered to your lips, admiring how kissable they looked. He licked at his lips before crashing them with yours. The slight smacking of your mouths working against each other echoed in the room, but it still wasn’t loud enough to disturb his sleeping fiancée.

Jimin licked your bottom lip, begging for access. You opened your mouth, letting him snake his tongue into your mouth as he massaged your tongue with his. You wanted so badly to moan at the sensation, but you knew you shouldn’t.

Jimin’s grip on your wrist tightened as he pulled you even further into the kiss. That familiar aching in your core began to build, and the need for friction between your legs was nearing unbearable. Your legs were going weak because of it. You brought your free hand up and rested it on the bed to keep yourself from falling.

Jimin threaded his fingers through your silky hair, pressing your mouth even harder against his. You could feel your lips start to bruise from the pressure, but Jimin didn’t lighten up on his ministrations.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled away from your lips, taking every bit of warmth with him. Your face was flushed, and you were out of breath.

Before you or Jimin had a chance to catch your breath, you placed your other knee onto the bed. Then, you carefully laid down on your side next to him, your back pressed against his warm chest. Jimin instantly wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand finding its way to the hem of your panties. That familiar, safe feeling of being wrapped in his arms flooded your senses.

You wished this didn’t have to be breakup sex. You wished it could just be sex.

Jimin’s fingers grazed against your clit, bringing you out of your reverie. It was the slightest touch, but it caused waves of euphoria to ripple throughout your body, settling in your toes as they curled in on themselves.

Your mouth fell open as a silent moan escaped your lips.

Your hips instinctively bucked against his hand, searching for more pressure. When Jimin’s hand didn’t give you the friction you needed, you arched your back and pressed your ass against his cock, feeling the hard member under the soft fabric of his pajamas. His cock settled between your cheeks before you rubbed your ass back and forth and in circular motions.

You could hear Jimin inhale sharply from behind you.

You were going to continue teasing and torturing him until he touched your swollen clit.

Jimin’s open mouth latched onto your shoulder, his teeth slightly brushing against your skin. He wanted to moan and whisper filthy strings of praise into your ear, but he knew the second he would there’d be no stopping him from growing in volume, and that’s the last thing you two needed.

Eventually, Jimin took the hint and rubbed circles around your clit with his thumb. You quietly sighed at the pressure and stopped your attack on his cock. As Jimin continued to play with your clit, his middle finger sliding up and down your slit, soaking it with your juices. Then, all at once, he shoved the digit into your aching, wet core.

Your thighs immediately clamped around his arm, trapping Jimin’s finger inside you. Your eyes closed, and you could see stars in the back of your eyelids. His fingers were long and slender but filled you up and stretched you out so perfectly. He was able to reach spots within you that your own fingers couldn’t explore.

“Another,” you breathed, your voice nearly inaudible. “Add another finger, Jimin.” Delicately, you opened your thighs so Jimin could push another finger in, stretching you further.

The sound of Jimin’s fingers working in and out of you filled your ears, your arousal evident. The noise was so intoxicating Jimin could drown in it. His cock hardened beneath you, and precum began to drip from the tip. He needed friction just as much as you did.

Pressing his hips into you, Jimin began to grind against your ass. His movements were slow and hesitant as to not shake the bed. It was unbelievably painful, and yet every time the head of his cock grazed against your ass, he couldn’t help but moan into your hair. You helped him out by moving your hips in circular motions again.

Jimin added a third finger into your wet core and used his palm to rub your clit. His hand was beginning to cramp from the position his hand and arm were in, but he never slowed or stopped his fingers from pleasuring you.

You reached behind you and began to stroke Jimin’s cock over his clothes. It was hot and heavy in your hand, and you could feel every pulse. You twisted your wrist back and forth as you pumped his cock and ran your thumb over his slit. You held him a little tighter and started to stroke faster and faster.

As you stroked faster, Jimin began to scissor his fingers inside of you, brushing against your walls at an absurd pace.

“Jimin! I’m-” You breathed heavily. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning his name even louder. Even though he was moving so fast, you needed him to go faster. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and you knew you were about to come all over them.

You were so focused on chasing your relief, you stopped stroking his cock.

“Come for me, Princess.” Jimin whispered into your ear. His hot breath tickled on your skin, adding to the pleasure. You missed when he’d call you princess. You could forget you were a maid, forget he was engaged, forget all the difficulties that came with your relationship, and for the night you’d become a princess. During sex, you were his princess, and that’s the only princess you wanted to be. “Come all over my fingers.”

And with that command, you were coming all over him, your juices coating his hand and making a mess all over the sheets. Jimin quietly groaned at the sensation of you tightening around him. You continued to clench around him as you came down from your high, and you tried hard to conceal your heavy breathing. Your body convulsed under his touch as he pulled his fingers out of you, gently brushing against your sensitive clit in the process.

“Shit,” you hissed.

You laid there for a second, regaining your breath. Jimin removed his hand from your panties and brought the soaking wet digits to his mouth before sucking on them, tasting your arousal. “God, you taste so fucking good, I just wanna eat you out and feel your pretty little cunt on my tongue.”

You smiled at the praise before reaching behind you and stroking Jimin’s cock again. You could feel the wetness of his precum soaking through his clothes.

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “Come for me; I wanna taste you, too.”

Before you could stroke him any faster, Jimin grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “No,” he whispered. “I wanna come inside you. Wanna feel your tight little cunt clench around me, Princess.”

Before you had a chance to protest, Jimin was pulling down the hem of his pajama bottoms. His cock sprung free from the cloth prison, hitting his stomach. With his right hand, Jimin grabbed his member, and with his left, he lifted your leg up, providing him room to slide into your soaking entrance.

He pushed your panties aside as you held your leg up, waiting for him. Finally, you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He rubbed it back and forth, teasing you.

You closed your eyes and let your head loll back and rest against Jimin’s firm chest. He leaned down and planted soft kisses into your hair and on your forehead, and then watched as his cock gradually disappeared into your heat.

He was moving so slow, inch by inch, admiring the way you swallowed him up. He was so close to coming just from feeling how tight and wet you were for him. Jimin laid there, his cock inside you, as he tried to keep himself from coming. He tightened his stomach and pulled his lips into a thin line.

It was torture for the both of you.

“Fuck,” Jimin rasped. “I love how tight you are, always so tight no matter how many times I fuck your pretty little pussy.”

“Stop talking and actually fuck me already,” you groaned.

Suddenly, Jimin was thrusting into you at a slow and steady pace.

You missed the feeling of being filled to the brim with his cock. He was still the perfect size for you, like you two were made for each other.

As Jimin continued his sweet pace, you wished you could see his face twist with pleasure as his hips met your ass, but all you could do was imagine the provocative image. That wasn’t very hard to do, though. You remember vividly the way Jimin’s eyes turned to slits, the way his brows came together with concentration, and how he always chewed on his bottom lip right before he was about to come. The picture was forever etched into your mind because nothing was more satisfying than knowing you did that to him. Knowing you turned him into a horny, dazed mess.

“Faster.” The word slipped past your bruised and swollen lips.

“Can’t.” Jimin grunted. He didn’t have to say why he couldn’t for you to understand.

His fiancée was the problem. If only she wasn’t lying five feet away from you, then Jimin could fuck you with the frenzied urgency he usually did. But, unfortunately, he couldn’t, and it was killing him.

You grumbled internally. At the pace Jimin was going, it would take forever before either of you came. Taking matters into your own hands, you lifted your hips and pulled off Jimin’s cock until just the tip was left before slamming your ass back to meet his hips.

Jimin hissed behind you, and you continued the motion. His hand immediately gripped your waist, tightly. His nails dug into your skin, marking your hips with crescent shaped bruises. With you moving your hips and Jimin still thrusting into you, the movement became faster, to a pace that would easily get you off - although it wasn’t nearly as fast as you were accustomed to.

The slapping of your sweaty bodies grew louder, as a result.

What if Jimin’s fiancée woke up? The thought was oddly exciting. Her waking up and finding her fiancé’s cock buried inside a lowly maid. Just thinking about the rage she’d be in made you cackle internally with amusement.

After a while, you began to rub at your aching clit that was begging for relief. The simultaneous stimulation of your clit and pussy made the heat pooling in your stomach spread like a wildfire.

With your free hand, you latched onto Jimin’s soft hair and craned your neck so you could crash his lips with yours. You needed something to distract you from the mess of moans threatening to escape you. You let your moans die on Jimin’s tongue, on his lips, and in the back of his throat.

Jimin did the same as he groaned into your mouth. He couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect you were. How soft your lips were, how tight your cunt was, how your body fit perfectly in the crevices and curves of his. He couldn’t believe that he was fucking you again. It was painful enough coming to terms with thinking the last time y'all fucked would be the last time he would ever hold you so tight.

It might just break him letting you go a second time.

Before Jimin could dwell on the painful memory, your breathy moans pulled him back to the present.

“I’m about to come,” you sighed against Jimin’s lips.

“Again?” Jimin smiled. “You love my cock that much, huh? I haven’t even come yet, Princess, why don’t you wait your fucking turn.”

You whined at his demand. Lucky for you, you knew just what gets him going. Stroking his ego always proved rewarding.

Hearing you beg made his cock twitch inside you, he loved when you talked dirty. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Jimin whispered. He licked a stripe from the base of your neck to your ear before nibbling on it. The light touch made you shudder beneath him.

Suddenly, the slow and steady pace Jimin was fucking you with turned violent and erratic. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat.

“Yes, just like that!” You mumbled. You arched your back and shoved your face into the pillow under your head, biting the fabric. Your muffled moans left Jimin on cloud nine; they were more frequent and growing louder as you neared your second orgasm.

Jimin clamped his hand over your mouth to shut you up. You stopped stimulating your clit and grabbed onto Jimin’s arm, and you released your grip on his hair, letting your arm fall onto the bed.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, shit!” You cursed into Jimin’s palm.

Just as you tightened around him, clenching your thighs together, Jimin muttered, “If you keep doing that I’m gonna come.”

“N-nobody’s stopping you,” you smiled into his hand and closed your eyes.

Jimin continued plunging his cock into you, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. After a few more thrusts, you came hard for the second time. Whimpers fell from your lips as your body convulsed beside his before, finally, going limp. You squeezed hard around one last time, causing him to groan your name loud and clear. “Fuck, Princess, I’m gonna-”

“Jimin?” You heard a small voice from behind you. Your eyes shot open.

Jimin immediately stilled inside you. His hand on your mouth pressed harder against your lips. You inhaled quickly through your nose before holding your breath.

Jimin’s fiancée was awake.

With one swift quick motion Jimin threw the blanket over the both of you, covering you up.

You felt Jimin’s fiancée shift around in the bed beside you. “Why are you being so loud? Quit moving.” She mumbled, her voice groggy.

Even though you should be scared his fiancée was awake and worried she’d notice you, you couldn’t help but be amused by the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin apologized, trying to keep his voice steady. He was a little out of breath from fucking you. “I’m just a little restless since…” he paused and looked down at you. “Since we’re getting married tomorrow.”

You let go of the breath you were holding. You didn’t want to hear this.

To distract yourself from letting useless thoughts cloud your mind, you decided to have a little fun.

“Sorry for waking you,” Jimin apologized again. As he continued to assure his fiancée everything was alright, you tightened yourself around him. “I-”

Just as he was about to say something else he choked at the sudden pressure on his cock. You smirked, loving his reaction.

“I-” He started again but was cut off by you swirling your hips, fucking yourself on his throbbing cock. “Shit.” He hissed under his breath.

“What?” His fiancée questioned, completely unaware of the situation.

You continued to fuck Jimin, slowly lifting your hips and sinking back onto him. It turned you on knowing Jimin was completely powerless in this situation.

You knew Jimin was about to come right before his fiancée woke up, so it shouldn’t take long before he actually does.

“Nothing,” Jimin grunted. His hand was at your waist again, his grip firm. The harsh pressure of his fingers digging into your hip was oddly arousing. You knew it’d be in your best interest to stop teasing him, but you just couldn’t find it in you. It was too amusing.

The familiar twitch of Jimin’s cock warned you of his threatening orgasm. You attempted to move the slightest bit faster to speed up the process without giving away your presence.

You could feel his thighs tensing behind you; he was trying to prevent himself from coming but the attempt was futile.

“I’ll t-try to keep it d-down,” Jimin said as he came inside you. The thought alone that his hot cum was shooting inside you as he talked to his fiancée was enough to get the fire in the pit of your stomach ablaze once again.

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. If you bit any harder you could’ve drawn blood.

Jimin’s hot cum filled you up and then slowly seeped out of you, running down his dick and filling your panties. You continued to squeeze around him, milking him of all the cum that you could.

“It’s fine, I’m gonna get something to drink since I’m up,” she said. “Do you want anything?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

You felt the bed shift some more followed by light footsteps that grew softer with time. You heard a door open and close.

She was gone.

Jimin’s heart was racing, he was so worried you were going to get caught. He didn’t know what would have happened if you did. You’d probably be executed before his very eyes, and he’d probably be disowned, worst case scenario.

Jimin finally pulled out of you and exhaled loudly, “God, you’ll be the death of me some day.”

“You know,” you smiled and craned your neck so you were looking into Jimin’s deep brown eyes. “We have about twenty minutes before she comes back.”

You knew the palace like the back of your hand. It takes roughly ten minutes to get to the kitchen from Jimin’s bedroom, and the princess still doesn’t quite know her way around yet so you might have more. That gave you plenty of time to go at it one more time.

Jimin smirked at you, “Still not satisfied? You already came twice.”

“And I can do it a third time.”

“Fine, but you’re doing all the work this time,” Jimin grinned.

You turned your body so you were chest to chest with Jimin but still laying on your side, “Fine by me.” Your hands found their way to his hair, entangling your fingers with it. You kissed him softly, drinking in the way his lips felt against yours. You trailed small kisses up his sharp jawline and watched as he closed his eyes and stretched his neck, allowing you access to the exposed skin.

You needed a change of positions.

Suddenly, you pushed Jimin’s shoulder so he was laying flat on the bed, and you quickly threw a leg over his waist so you could straddle him. Pulling yourself up, you sat on Jimin’s spent dick. You ground against it, bringing it back to life. You wished you weren’t still wearing your panties, it just made it harder for the both of you. All you wanted was to feel your skin on his.

Jimin was struggling beneath you. You were so fucking hot, he just wanted to slam his cock into you again, wanted to give you more hickeys, wanted to hear you screaming his name with that pretty little mouth of yours.

You locked eyes with him, drowning in the image before you. Jimin’s shirt was all wrinkled and one of the buttons was undone, his hair was a mess from you running your fingers through it, and his face was flushed. His entire demeanor screamed ‘wreck me’, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Once Jimin’s dick was fully erect again, you grabbed it and pointed it to your awaiting entrance after pushing your panties to the side.

Jimin grabbed your wrist, “I thought you wanted to taste me, Princess?”

Confused, you scooted back and placed yourself between his thick thighs, and you leaned forward, getting ready to give him a blow job.

Your mouth was open, centimeters away from his cock, when you heard Jimin chuckle from above you. You looked up, a pout forming on your lips. “What? Why are you laughing?”

You watched as Jimin gave you his signature sweet smile and shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes. “Come here.”

You sat up, and Jimin grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. Once you were straddling his chest, his hands reached behind you and cupped your ass. Your eyes never left his, not even for a second.

He slid the bra off your arms and threw the clothing onto the floor somewhere. Then he raked his hands down your back, leaving behind more marks that ultimately claimed you as his.

Now, you were completely exposed, just the way Jimin liked you. But it wasn’t fair to you that you were the only one undressed again, like last time. So you gingerly unbuttoned the rest of Jimin’s shirt, revealing his toned chest. Your hands roamed his body.

Jimin’s eyes never left yours as he brought his hand to your dripping cunt. You were surprised when he slowly shoved his fingers into you, curling them in on themselves. You slammed your eyes shut and your mouth fell open in shock. His fingers felt so fucking good.

Jimin smirked beneath you as he continued to curl and scissor his fingers in and out of you. He curled his fingers one last time, scooping up some of his cum left inside you and then pulled out of you. He raised the digits dripping with his cum to your mouth, implicitly telling you to suck on them.

Jimin groaned at the sight of you. “Good girl,” he praised you. “Always so good for me. Now come on Princess, ride me.”

“But I thought you wanted to taste my pretty little cunt on your tongue,” you smirked at him, remembering he said that earlier. You planted your knees on the sides of Jimin’s head and dropped yourself onto his open mouth.

Without hesitation, Jimin licked a stripe from your clit to your entrance and then dipped his tongue inside you. You rutted against him until your clit brushed against his nose. You jerked your hips forward again, trying to put more friction on your clit.

Meanwhile Jimin continued darting his tongue inside you and lapping up your arousal.

“Do I taste good?” You breathed. You continued to grind against his mouth, loving the erotic sounds of Jimin eating you out.

“Yes, so fucking good,” he groaned and the vibrations sent waves of ecstasy through you. You arched your back and pinched one of your nipples, stimulating it. “I could taste you forever.”

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “I know you can do better than that.”

Jimin grabbed your hips and stilled you and shoved his tongue deep inside you. Your juices trickled down Jimin’s chin, soaking the collar of his shirt. He pulled his tongue out of you and focused on your needy bud. Your clit was always so sensitive, and if he focused on it, you knew you’d be coming in no time. That didn’t seem like a bad idea, though, since you had a limited amount of time before Jimin’s fiancee came back.

“Ah! Jimin!!” You screamed a little louder than you meant to.

“Scream my name, Princess.”

You chanted his name like a mantra as he sucked on your clit.

It wasn’t long before you were seeing stars again and the desperateness to come was ever present. “I’m close,” you warned Jimin. “S-stop.” You didn’t want to come on his tongue but on his cock.

You lifted your hips so he couldn’t eat you out anymore. “D-don’t wanna come yet. W-wanna come on your cock.”

You stayed planted above Jimin’s face, panting.

“Then what are you waiting for?” He asked.

“F-fuck!”

You waited for him to drill his cock into at an absurd pace, but he didn’t. He put his arms behind his head and smiled up at you. “I told you you were going to do all the work.”

You groaned internally. You just wanted him to give it to you nice and rough to the point you’re feeling it the next day. You wanted to be aching all over, barely able to walk.

“You gonna move or-”

“Shut up.” You hissed and started moving your hips back and forth. After you adjusted to his length you pulled yourself off him and slammed your hips back down repeatedly.

“Fuck you’re so fucking good. Look at your tight little pussy swallowing me whole.” Jimin threw his head back. You continued going hard against him, moving your hips around until he hit your g-spot.

The slapping of your ass against his hips flooded your ears. He was reaching so deep inside you. “Oh, my god!”

You squeezed your thighs together and rotated your hips. Now that his fiancee was gone, you didn’t have to keep your moans to yourself. Strangled moans escaped you; it was music to Jimin’s ears.

His cock throbbed inside you, nearing his second orgasm of the night, and you were reaching your third. As you bounced on his cock, chasing after your high, Jimin clenched his stomach and growled at the sensation of you.

He’ll never get tired of the image of you fucking yourself on him. He loved seeing you so fucked out.

You placed your hands on his chest, leaning forward. Your hair fell around you, covering your face. Jimin pushed the strands back so he could see your face as you came all over him. He loved the way your mouth fell open as you silently moaned, letting the pleasure take over you. The way your eyes sparkled with bliss.

You needed to hurry - you didn’t know how long it’d been since his fiancée left, but you were sure she’d be coming back any minute now.

“You gonna come, Princess?” Jimin grunted. “Gonna come all over my cock again?”

It didn’t take as long as usual for you to come all over Jimin. You’d been trying to delay your third orgasm for awhile now, but you just couldn’t anymore.

You stilled on Jimin’s dick. “Don’t stop now, I haven’t come yet.”

You sighed, too drained to continue moving. Jimin took pity on you and began to fuck himself into you. “Don’t worry, baby, if you keep clenching like that I’ll be coming real soon.” So you kept clenching around him, trying to help him come faster. He fucked into you so rough that it hurt, but you were too tired to stop him. After a few more strokes, Jimin yelled, “I’m coming!” And then his hot cum exploded inside you. He grunted and kept himself inside.

You fell onto his heaving chest. Your heavy breathing mixed with his as you two tried to catch your breath.

That was it.

That was the last time you’d ever have sex with Jimin. Even though you were lying in his arms, his cock inside you, you couldn’t help but feel so indescribably lonely. Your eyes welled with tears.

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry, but you were never really able to easily control your emotions. A single tear fell onto Jimin’s chest, and he quickly realized you were crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice. You didn’t look at him because you knew if you did you’d end up crying even harder.

In less than twenty-four hours Jimin will be married to another woman. He’ll hold her at night, tell her he loves her, and they’ll probably even have kids someday. You were so jealous that she gets to wake up to Jimin and hear his morning voice and see his bedhead. Something that you’d always dreamed of doing. You were so jealous that he was hers and hers alone.

Jimin ran his thumb under your eye, “Don’t cry.”

He reached over and grabbed his crown off the dresser and placed the gold item loosely on your head. “You’ll always be my princess,” Jimin whispered.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister bellowed. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Jimin and Jisoo in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, that is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. “Into this estate these two persons present come now to be joined.

“If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

You stood off to the side, alone, with a perfect view of Jimin’s face. You wanted to scream and shout and let everyone know that you loved him, and that you should be the one marrying him, not her, but you kept your voice to yourself.

Watching the ceremony only hurt you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

When no one dared to speak up, the minister continued. Turning to Jimin he said, “Mr. Jimin, if you would repeat after me: I, Jimin-”

“I, Jimin,” he repeated.

“Take thee Jisoo-”

“Take thee Jisoo.”

“To be my wedded wife-”

Jimin hesitated. His eyes drifted past his fiancée’s head and stared straight into yours. Your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes softened, and a somber smile filled his face. “To be my wedded wife.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health-”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.” Jimin repeated, still staring into your eyes.

“To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part.” The minister finished the vow.

“To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part.” Jimin stated. His eyes bored into yours.

Silence fell around you, and you watched desperately as he mouthed three achingly painful words.

I loved you.

Part 3 (final)

#bts #jimin #jimin smut #jimin angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts jimin #park jimin #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #bts prince au #prince jimin #prince!jimin #dom jimin #bts degradation #bts praise kink #jimin prince au

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jiminsa · 7 years

Text

His Throne [KTH] | 02

Genre: smut, angst, fluff ending

Word Count: 6,840

Tags: degradation, praise, fingering, face riding, dom!Taehyung, prince!Taehyung, infidelity, kinda exhibitionism

A/N: Ahhh yes, it’s finally done. It’s not nearly as good as the first (imo) because I wasn’t as motivated to write this one. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! (PCs to Vikttoria16)

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03

I love you.

You wished you hadn’t said it.

But more importantly you wished he had.

If he had told you he loved you, you would’ve tried to convince him to run away with you. But apparently happy endings like that don’t happen to insignificant maids like you.

You thought about the last time you guys had sex, how unaware you were of the situation. You needed to sleep with him one last time - needed to properly memorize everything about him.

It was the night before Taehyung’s wedding when you decided to do just that.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Shh,” you brought your finger up to your lips and shushed the groggy and confused prince. He looked so cute with his hair all messy and his beautiful brown eyes looking up at you.

You set your candlestick beside Taehyung’s crown on the white victorian dresser next to his bed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Taehyung whispered, his voice raspy. He pulled himself up so he was leaning on his elbows, causing his shirt to tighten on his broad chest. You imagined your hands resting on it, your nails digging into his skin as he fucked you senseless. And then you realized what he said.

You shouldn’t be here… But that’s where he was wrong. You should be there. You should be there instead of her.

You looked to your right, beyond Taehyung, and saw his fiancee’s huddled body curled up in the covers next to him. Taehyung’s eyes trailed after yours and rested upon his sleeping fiancee, a slight snore escaping her.

You noticed the large space between the two. There was obviously no love in this bed.

You took a step closer to Taehyung and slowly pulled the sheets off of his body. You were trying to be as quiet as possible so that you didn’t wake his fiancee up. “One more time,” you whispered, gazing into Taehyung’s eyes. “You got your break up sex, but I didn’t get mine.”

“Are you crazy?” Taehyung hissed through his teeth. He looked at the sleeping body next to him before bringing his eyes to meet yours. “We can’t do that. Not now, not anymore.”

Taehyung pursed his lips together to prevent himself from groaning at the sight of you. Oh, how he missed your teasing. He shook his head, “Y/N… We can’t.”

“Come on, Tae,” you purred. “Don’t you wanna feel your cock inside me one last time?”

Even though you two were whispering, your voices felt so loud in the dead room. You were surprised Taehyung’s fiancee hadn’t woken up yet.

Taehyung closed his eyes and let himself fall onto the bed, making it shake and groan from the sudden movement. Immediately, he glanced over to ensure his fiancee hadn’t woken up because of it.

You silently chuckled to yourself at his nervousness even though the movement worried you as well.

Taehyung shielded his eyes with his forearm as he said, “God, you know I want to, but I’m engaged, and my fiancee is right fucking here.” He removed his arm from his eyes and gestured to her as if you didn’t already know.

“That just makes it all the more fun,” you smiled. You could faintly see Taehyung’s brows knit together with hesitation.

Taehyung wondered how you would even be able to fuck each other without waking his fiancee up. Would you ride him? Would he be on top?

You watched as Taehyung laid there, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t denied your remark, so you took that as a silent agreement on his part.

You stepped closer to the bed, your knees touching it, before gently placing a knee onto the bed. It sunk from the pressure, and Taehyung, falteringly, scooted back in the bed, providing you ample room to lay down.

Taehyung missed you. A lot. Ever since he’d gotten engaged, he hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see you. You were always busy tending to his pompous fiancee, and if you weren’t doing that you were off cleaning like a maid should. He hated that. He knew you deserved so much more than the life of a maid.

“Stop thinking,” you whispered. Taehyung seemed so distant and lost in his thoughts. He should be focused on you. On your willingness to give yourself to him. On your practically naked body in front of him. “Just fuck me.”

Letting his cock control his emotions, Taehyung grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer to his parted lips. You smiled at him and watched as his gaze lowered to your lips, admiring how kissable they looked. He licked at his lips before crashing them with yours. The slight smacking of your mouths working against each other echoed in the room, but it still wasn’t loud enough to disturb his sleeping fiancée.

Taehyung licked your bottom lip, begging for access. You opened your mouth, letting him snake his tongue into your mouth as he massaged your tongue with his. You wanted so badly to moan at the sensation, but you knew you shouldn’t.

Taehyung’s grip on your wrist tightened as he pulled you even further into the kiss. That familiar aching in your core began to build, and the need for friction between your legs was nearing unbearable. Your legs were going weak because of it. You brought your free hand up and rested it on the bed to keep yourself from falling.

Taehyung threaded his fingers through your silky hair, pressing your mouth even harder against his. You could feel your lips start to bruise from the pressure, but Taehyung didn’t lighten up on his ministrations.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled away from your lips, taking every bit of warmth with him. Your face was flushed, and you were out of breath.

Before you or Taehyung had a chance to catch your breath, you placed your other knee onto the bed. Then, you carefully laid down on your side next to him, your back pressed against his warm chest. Taehyung instantly wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand finding its way to the hem of your panties. That familiar, safe feeling of being wrapped in his arms flooded your senses.

You wished this didn’t have to be breakup sex. You wished it could just be sex.

Taehyung’s fingers grazed against your clit, bringing you out of your reverie. It was the slightest touch, but it caused waves of euphoria to ripple throughout your body, settling in your toes as they curled in on themselves.

Your mouth fell open as a silent moan escaped your lips.

Your hips instinctively bucked against his hand, searching for more pressure. When Taehyung’s hand didn’t give you the friction you needed, you arched your back and pressed your ass against his cock, feeling the hard member under the soft fabric of his pajamas. His cock settled between your cheeks before you rubbed your ass back and forth and in circular motions.

You could hear Taehyung inhale sharply from behind you.

You were going to continue teasing and torturing him until he touched your swollen clit.

Taehyung’s open mouth latched onto your shoulder, his teeth slightly brushing against your skin. He wanted to moan and whisper filthy strings of praise into your ear, but he knew the second he would there’d be no stopping him from growing in volume, and that’s the last thing you two needed.

Eventually, Taehyung took the hint and rubbed circles around your clit with his thumb. You quietly sighed at the pressure and stopped your attack on his cock. As Taehyung continued to play with your clit, his middle finger sliding up and down your slit, soaking it with your juices. Then, all at once, he shoved the digit into your aching, wet core.

Your thighs immediately clamped around his arm, trapping Taehyung’s finger inside you. Your eyes closed, and you could see stars in the back of your eyelids. His fingers were long and slender but filled you up and stretched you out so perfectly. He was able to reach spots within you that your own fingers couldn’t explore.

“Another,” you breathed, your voice nearly inaudible. “Add another finger, Tae.” Delicately, you opened your thighs so Taehyung could push another finger in, stretching you further.

The sound of Taehyung’s fingers working in and out of you filled your ears, your arousal evident. The noise was so intoxicating Taehyung could drown in it. His cock hardened beneath you, and precum began to drip from the tip. He needed friction just as much as you did.

Pressing his hips into you, Taehyung began to grind against your ass. His movements were slow and hesitant as to not shake the bed. It was unbelievably painful, and yet every time the head of his cock grazed against your ass, he couldn’t help but moan into your hair. You helped him out by moving your hips in circular motions again.

Taehyung added a third finger into your wet core and used his palm to rub your clit. His hand was beginning to cramp from the position his hand and arm were in, but he never slowed or stopped his fingers from pleasuring you.

You reached behind you and began to stroke Taehyung’s cock over his clothes. It was hot and heavy in your hand, and you could feel every pulse. You twisted your wrist back and forth as you pumped his cock and ran your thumb over his slit. You held him a little tighter and started to stroke faster and faster.

As you stroked faster, Taehyung began to scissor his fingers inside of you, brushing against your walls at an absurd pace.

“Tae! I’m-” You breathed heavily. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning his name even louder. Even though he was moving so fast, you needed him to go faster. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and you knew you were about to come all over them.

You were so focused on chasing your relief, you stopped stroking his cock.

“Come for me, Princess.” Taehyung whispered into your ear. His hot breath tickled on your skin, adding to the pleasure. You missed when he’d call you princess. You could forget you were a maid, forget he was engaged, forget all the difficulties that came with your relationship, and for the night you’d become a princess. During sex, you were his princess, and that’s the only princess you wanted to be. “Come all over my fingers.”

And with that command, you were coming all over him, your juices coating his hand and making a mess all over the sheets. Taehyung quietly groaned at the sensation of you tightening around him. You continued to clench around him as you came down from your high, and you tried hard to conceal your heavy breathing. Your body convulsed under his touch as he pulled his fingers out of you, gently brushing against your sensitive clit in the process.

“Shit,” you hissed.

You laid there for a second, regaining your breath. Taehyung removed his hand from your panties and brought the soaking wet digits to his mouth before sucking on them, tasting your arousal. “God, you taste so fucking good, I just wanna eat you out and feel your pretty little cunt on my tongue.”

You smiled at the praise before reaching behind you and stroking Taehyung’s cock again. You could feel the wetness of his precum soaking through his clothes.

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “Come for me; I wanna taste you, too.”

Before you could stroke him any faster, Taehyung grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “No,” he whispered. “I wanna come inside you. Wanna feel your tight little cunt clench around me, Princess.”

Before you had a chance to protest, Taehyung was pulling down the hem of his pajama bottoms. His cock sprung free from the cloth prison, hitting his stomach. With his right hand, Taehyung grabbed his member, and with his left, he lifted your leg up, providing him room to slide into your soaking entrance.

He pushed your panties aside as you held your leg up, waiting for him. Finally, you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He rubbed it back and forth, teasing you.

You closed your eyes and let your head loll back and rest against Taehyung’s firm chest. He leaned down and planted soft kisses into your hair and on your forehead, and then watched as his cock gradually disappeared into your heat.

He was moving so slow, inch by inch, admiring the way you swallowed him up. He was so close to coming just from feeling how tight and wet you were for him. Taehyung laid there, his cock inside you, as he tried to keep himself from coming. He tightened his stomach and pulled his lips into a thin line.

It was torture for the both of you.

“Fuck,” Taehyung rasped. “I love how tight you are, always so tight no matter how many times I fuck your pretty little pussy.”

“Stop talking and actually fuck me already,” you groaned.

Suddenly, Taehyung was thrusting into you at a slow and steady pace.

You missed the feeling of being filled to the brim with his cock. He was still the perfect size for you, like you two were made for each other.

As Taehyung continued his sweet pace, you wished you could see his face twist with pleasure as his hips met your ass, but all you could do was imagine the provocative image. That wasn’t very hard to do, though. You remember vividly the way Taehyung’s eyes turned to slits, the way his brows came together with concentration, and how he always chewed on his bottom lip right before he was about to come. The picture was forever etched into your mind because nothing was more satisfying than knowing you did that to him. Knowing you turned him into a horny, dazed mess.

“Faster.” The word slipped past your bruised and swollen lips.

“Can’t.” Taehyung grunted. He didn’t have to say why he couldn’t for you to understand.

His fiancée was the problem. If only she wasn’t lying five feet away from you, then Taehyung could fuck you with the frenzied urgency he usually did. But, unfortunately, he couldn’t, and it was killing him.

You grumbled internally. At the pace Taehyung was going, it would take forever before either of you came. Taking matters into your own hands, you lifted your hips and pulled off Taehyung’s cock until just the tip was left before slamming your ass back to meet his hips.

Taehyung hissed behind you, and you continued the motion. His hand immediately gripped your waist, tightly. His nails dug into your skin, marking your hips with crescent shaped bruises. With you moving your hips and Taehyung still thrusting into you, the movement became faster, to a pace that would easily get you off - although it wasn’t nearly as fast as you were accustomed to.

The slapping of your sweaty bodies grew louder, as a result.

What if Taehyung’s fiancée woke up? The thought was oddly exciting. Her waking up and finding her fiancé’s cock buried inside a lowly maid. Just thinking about the rage she’d be in made you cackle internally with amusement.

After a while, you began to rub at your aching clit that was begging for relief. The simultaneous stimulation of your clit and pussy made the heat pooling in your stomach spread like a wildfire.

With your free hand, you latched onto Taehyung’s soft hair and craned your neck so you could crash his lips with yours. You needed something to distract you from the mess of moans threatening to escape you. You let your moans die on Taehyung’s tongue, on his lips, and in the back of his throat.

Taehyung did the same as he groaned into your mouth. He couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect you were. How soft your lips were, how tight your cunt was, how your body fit perfectly in the crevices and curves of his. He couldn’t believe that he was fucking you again. It was painful enough coming to terms with thinking the last time y'all fucked would be the last time he would ever hold you so tight.

It might just break him letting you go a second time.

Before Taehyung could dwell on the painful memory, your breathy moans pulled him back to the present.

“I’m about to come,” you sighed against Taehyung’s lips.

“Again?” Taehyung smiled. “You love my cock that much, huh? I haven’t even come yet, Princess, why don’t you wait your fucking turn.”

You whined at his demand. Lucky for you, you knew just what gets him going. Stroking his ego always proved rewarding.

Hearing you beg made his cock twitch inside you, he loved when you talked dirty. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Taehyung whispered. He licked a stripe from the base of your neck to your ear before nibbling on it. The light touch made you shudder beneath him.

Suddenly, the slow and steady pace Taehyung was fucking you with turned violent and erratic. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat.

“Yes, just like that!” You mumbled. You arched your back and shoved your face into the pillow under your head, biting the fabric. Your muffled moans left Taehyung on cloud nine; they were more frequent and growing louder as you neared your second orgasm.

Taehyung clamped his hand over your mouth to shut you up. You stopped stimulating your clit and grabbed onto Taehyung’s arm, and you released your grip on his hair, letting your arm fall onto the bed.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, shit!” You cursed into Taehyung’s palm.

Just as you tightened around him, clenching your thighs together, Taehyung muttered, “If you keep doing that I’m gonna come.”

“N-nobody’s stopping you,” you smiled into his hand and closed your eyes.

Taehyung continued plunging his cock into you, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. After a few more thrusts, you came hard for the second time. Whimpers fell from your lips as your body convulsed beside his before, finally, going limp. You squeezed hard around one last time, causing him to groan your name loud and clear. “Fuck, Princess, I’m gonna-”

“Tae?” You heard a small voice from behind you. Your eyes shot open.

Taehyung immediately stilled inside you. His hand on your mouth pressed harder against your lips. You inhaled quickly through your nose before holding your breath.

Taehyung’s fiancée was awake.

With one swift quick motion Taehyung threw the blanket over the both of you, covering you up.

You felt Taehyung’s fiancée shift around in the bed beside you. “Why are you being so loud? Quit moving.” She mumbled, her voice groggy.

Even though you should be scared his fiancée was awake and worried she’d notice you, you couldn’t help but be amused by the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung apologized, trying to keep his voice steady. He was a little out of breath from fucking you. “I’m just a little restless since…” he paused and looked down at you. “Since we’re getting married tomorrow.”

You let go of the breath you were holding. You didn’t want to hear this.

To distract yourself from letting useless thoughts cloud your mind, you decided to have a little fun.

“Sorry for waking you,” Taehyung apologized again. As he continued to assure his fiancée everything was alright, you tightened yourself around him. “I-”

Just as he was about to say something else he choked at the sudden pressure on his cock. You smirked, loving his reaction.

“I-” He started again but was cut off by you swirling your hips, fucking yourself on his throbbing cock. “Shit.” He hissed under his breath.

“What?” His fiancée questioned, completely unaware of the situation.

You continued to fuck Taehyung, slowly lifting your hips and sinking back onto him. It turned you on knowing Taehyung was completely powerless in this situation.

You knew Taehyung was about to come right before his fiancée woke up, so it shouldn’t take long before he actually does.

“Nothing,” Taehyung grunted. His hand was at your waist again, his grip firm. The harsh pressure of his fingers digging into your hip was oddly arousing. You knew it’d be in your best interest to stop teasing him, but you just couldn’t find it in you. It was too amusing.

The familiar twitch of Taehyung’s cock warned you of his threatening orgasm. You attempted to move the slightest bit faster to speed up the process without giving away your presence.

You could feel his thighs tensing behind you; he was trying to prevent himself from coming but the attempt was futile.

“I’ll t-try to keep it d-down,” Taehyung said as he came inside you. The thought alone that his hot cum was shooting inside you as he talked to his fiancée was enough to get the fire in the pit of your stomach ablaze once again.

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. If you bit any harder you could’ve drawn blood.

Taehyung’s hot cum filled you up and then slowly seeped out of you, running down his dick and filling your panties. You continued to squeeze around him, milking him of all the cum that you could.

“It’s fine, I’m gonna get something to drink since I’m up,” she said. “Do you want anything?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

You felt the bed shift some more followed by light footsteps that grew softer with time. You heard a door open and close.

She was gone.

Taehyung’s heart was racing, he was so worried you were going to get caught. He didn’t know what would have happened if you did. You’d probably be executed before his very eyes, and he’d probably be disowned, worst case scenario.

Taehyung finally pulled out of you and exhaled loudly, “God, you’ll be the death of me some day.”

“You know,” you smiled and craned your neck so you were looking into Taehyung’s deep brown eyes. “We have about twenty minutes before she comes back.”

You knew the palace like the back of your hand. It takes roughly ten minutes to get to the kitchen from Taehyung’s bedroom, and the princess still doesn’t quite know her way around yet so you might have more. That gave you plenty of time to go at it one more time.

Taehyung smirked at you, “Still not satisfied? You already came twice.”

“And I can do it a third time.”

“Fine, but you’re doing all the work this time,” Taehyung grinned.

You turned your body so you were chest to chest with Taehyung but still laying on your side, “Fine by me.” Your hands found their way to his hair, entangling your fingers with it. You kissed him softly, drinking in the way his lips felt against yours. You trailed small kisses up his sharp jawline and watched as he closed his eyes and stretched his neck, allowing you access to the exposed skin.

You needed a change of positions.

Suddenly, you pushed Taehyung’s shoulder so he was laying flat on the bed, and you quickly threw a leg over his waist so you could straddle him. Pulling yourself up, you sat on Taehyung’s spent dick. You ground against it, bringing it back to life. You wished you weren’t still wearing your panties, it just made it harder for the both of you. All you wanted was to feel your skin on his.

Taehyung was struggling beneath you. You were so fucking hot, he just wanted to slam his cock into you again, wanted to give you more hickeys, wanted to hear you screaming his name with that pretty little mouth of yours.

You locked eyes with him, drowning in the image before you. Taehyung’s shirt was all wrinkled and one of the buttons was undone, his hair was a mess from you running your fingers through it, and his face was flushed. His entire demeanor screamed ‘wreck me’, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Once Taehyung’s dick was fully erect again, you grabbed it and pointed it to your awaiting entrance after pushing your panties to the side.

Taehyung grabbed your wrist, “I thought you wanted to taste me, Princess?”

Confused, you scooted back and placed yourself between his thick thighs, and you leaned forward, getting ready to give him a blow job.

Your mouth was open, centimeters away from his cock, when you heard Taehyung chuckle from above you. You looked up, a pout forming on your lips. “What? Why are you laughing?”

You watched as Taehyung gave you his signature sweet smile and shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes. “Come here.”

You sat up, and Taehyung grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. Once you were straddling his chest, his hands reached behind you and cupped your ass. Your eyes never left his, not even for a second.

He slid the bra off your arms and threw the clothing onto the floor somewhere. Then he raked his hands down your back, leaving behind more marks that ultimately claimed you as his.

Now, you were completely exposed, just the way Taehyung liked you. But it wasn’t fair to you that you were the only one undressed again, like last time. So you gingerly unbuttoned the rest of Taehyung’s shirt, revealing his toned chest. Your hands roamed his body.

Taehyung’s eyes never left yours as he brought his hand to your dripping cunt. You were surprised when he slowly shoved his fingers into you, curling them in on themselves. You slammed your eyes shut and your mouth fell open in shock. His fingers felt so fucking good.

Taehyung smirked beneath you as he continued to curl and scissor his fingers in and out of you. He curled his fingers one last time, scooping up some of his cum left inside you and then pulled out of you. He raised the digits dripping with his cum to your mouth, implicitly telling you to suck on them.

Taehyung groaned at the sight of you. “Good girl,” he praised you. “Always so good for me. Now come on Princess, ride me.”

“But I thought you wanted to taste my pretty little cunt on your tongue,” you smirked at him, remembering he said that earlier. You planted your knees on the sides of Taehyung’s head and dropped yourself onto his open mouth.

Without hesitation, Taehyung licked a stripe from your clit to your entrance and then dipped his tongue inside you. You rutted against him until your clit brushed against his nose. You jerked your hips forward again, trying to put more friction on your clit.

Meanwhile Taehyung continued darting his tongue inside you and lapping up your arousal.

“Do I taste good?” You breathed. You continued to grind against his mouth, loving the erotic sounds of Taehyung eating you out.

“Yes, so fucking good,” he groaned and the vibrations sent waves of ecstasy through you. You arched your back and pinched one of your nipples, stimulating it. “I could taste you forever.”

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “I know you can do better than that.”

Taehyung grabbed your hips and stilled you and shoved his tongue deep inside you. Your juices trickled down Taehyung’s chin, soaking the collar of his shirt. He pulled his tongue out of you and focused on your needy bud. Your clit was always so sensitive, and if he focused on it, you knew you’d be coming in no time. That didn’t seem like a bad idea, though, since you had a limited amount of time before Taehyung’s fiancee came back.

“Ah! Tae!!” You screamed a little louder than you meant to.

“Scream my name, Princess.”

You chanted his name like a mantra as he sucked on your clit.

It wasn’t long before you were seeing stars again and the desperateness to come was ever present. “I’m close,” you warned Taehyung. “S-stop.” You didn’t want to come on his tongue but on his cock.

You lifted your hips so he couldn’t eat you out anymore. “D-don’t wanna come yet. W-wanna come on your cock.”

You stayed planted above Taehyung’s face, panting.

“Then what are you waiting for?” He asked.

“F-fuck!”

You waited for him to drill his cock into at an absurd pace, but he didn’t. He put his arms behind his head and smiled up at you. “I told you you were going to do all the work.”

You groaned internally. You just wanted him to give it to you nice and rough to the point you’re feeling it the next day. You wanted to be aching all over, barely able to walk.

“You gonna move or-”

“Shut up.” You hissed and started moving your hips back and forth. After you adjusted to his length you pulled yourself off him and slammed your hips back down repeatedly.

“Fuck you’re so fucking good. Look at your tight little pussy swallowing me whole.” Taehyung threw his head back. You continued going hard against him, moving your hips around until he hit your g-spot.

The slapping of your ass against his hips flooded your ears. He was reaching so deep inside you. “Oh, my god!”

You squeezed your thighs together and rotated your hips. Now that his fiancee was gone, you didn’t have to keep your moans to yourself. Strangled moans escaped you; it was music to Taehyung’s ears.

His cock throbbed inside you, nearing his second orgasm of the night, and you were reaching your third. As you bounced on his cock, chasing after your high, Taehyung clenched his stomach and growled at the sensation of you.

He’ll never get tired of the image of you fucking yourself on him. He loved seeing you so fucked out.

You placed your hands on his chest, leaning forward. Your hair fell around you, covering your face. Taehyung pushed the strands back so he could see your face as you came all over him. He loved the way your mouth fell open as you silently moaned, letting the pleasure take over you. The way your eyes sparkled with bliss.

You needed to hurry - you didn’t know how long it’d been since his fiancée left, but you were sure she’d be coming back any minute now.

“You gonna come, Princess?” Taehyung grunted. “Gonna come all over my cock again?”

It didn’t take as long as usual for you to come all over Taehyung. You’d been trying to delay your third orgasm for awhile now, but you just couldn’t anymore.

You stilled on Taehyung’s dick. “Don’t stop now, I haven’t come yet.”

You sighed, too drained to continue moving. Taehyung took pity on you and began to fuck himself into you. “Don’t worry, baby, if you keep clenching like that I’ll be coming real soon.” So you kept clenching around him, trying to help him come faster. He fucked into you so rough that it hurt, but you were too tired to stop him. After a few more strokes, Taehyung yelled, “I’m coming!” And then his hot cum exploded inside you. He grunted and kept himself inside.

You fell onto his heaving chest. Your heavy breathing mixed with his as you two tried to catch your breath.

That was it.

That was the last time you’d ever have sex with Taehyung. Even though you were lying in his arms, his cock inside you, you couldn’t help but feel so indescribably lonely. Your eyes welled with tears.

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry, but you were never really able to easily control your emotions. A single tear fell onto Taehyung’s chest, and he quickly realized you were crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice. You didn’t look at him because you knew if you did you’d end up crying even harder.

In less than twenty-four hours Taehyung will be married to another woman. He’ll hold her at night, tell her he loves her, and they’ll probably even have kids someday. You were so jealous that she gets to wake up to Taehyung and hear his morning voice and see his bedhead. Something that you’d always dreamed of doing. You were so jealous that he was hers and hers alone.

Taehyung ran his thumb under your eye, “Don’t cry.”

He reached over and grabbed his crown off the dresser and placed the gold item loosely on your head. “You’ll always be my princess,” Taehyung whispered.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister bellowed. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Taehyung and Jisoo in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, that is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. “Into this estate these two persons present come now to be joined.

“If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

You stood off to the side, alone, with a perfect view of Taehyung’s face. You wanted to scream and shout and let everyone know that you loved him, and that you should be the one marrying him, not her, but you kept your voice to yourself.

Watching the ceremony only hurt you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

When no one dared to speak up, the minister continued. Turning to Taehyung he said, “Mr. Taehyung, if you would repeat after me: I, Taehyung-”

“I, Taehyung,” he repeated.

“Take thee Jisoo-”

“Take thee Jisoo.”

“To be my wedded wife-”

Taehyung hesitated. His eyes drifted past his fiancée’s head and stared straight into yours. Your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes softened, and a somber smile filled his face. “To be my wedded wife.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health-”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.” Taehyung repeated, still staring into your eyes.

“To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part.” The minister finished the vow.

“To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part.” Taehyung stated. His eyes bored into yours.

Silence fell around you, and you watched desperately as he mouthed three achingly painful words.

I loved you.

Part 3 (final)

#I wonder what I should write next #bts #taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #kim taehyung #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios #tae smut #tae angst #tae scenarios #prince!taeyhung #dom taehyung #bts degradation

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jiminsa · 7 years

Text

His Throne [MYG] | 02

Genre: smut, angst, fluff ending

Word Count: 6,840

Tags: degradation, praise, fingering, face riding, dom!Yoongi, prince!Yoongi, infidelity, kinda exhibitionism

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03

I love you.

You wished you hadn’t said it.

But more importantly you wished he had.

If he had told you he loved you, you would’ve tried to convince him to run away with you. But apparently happy endings like that don’t happen to insignificant maids like you.

You thought about the last time you guys had sex, how unaware you were of the situation. You needed to sleep with him one last time - needed to properly memorize everything about him.

It was the night before Yoongi’s wedding when you decided to do just that.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Shh,” you brought your finger up to your lips and shushed the groggy and confused prince. He looked so cute with his hair all messy and his beautiful brown eyes looking up at you.

You set your candlestick beside Yoongi’s crown on the white victorian dresser next to his bed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yoongi whispered, his voice raspy. He pulled himself up so he was leaning on his elbows, causing his shirt to tighten on his broad chest. You imagined your hands resting on it, your nails digging into his skin as he fucked you senseless. And then you realized what he said.

You shouldn’t be here… But that’s where he was wrong. You should be there. You should be there instead of her.

You looked to your right, beyond Yoongi, and saw his fiancee’s huddled body curled up in the covers next to him. Yoongi’s eyes trailed after yours and rested upon his sleeping fiancee, a slight snore escaping her.

You noticed the large space between the two. There was obviously no love in this bed.

You took a step closer to Yoongi and slowly pulled the sheets off of his body. You were trying to be as quiet as possible so that you didn’t wake his fiancee up. “One more time,” you whispered, gazing into Yoongi’s eyes. “You got your break up sex, but I didn’t get mine.”

“Are you crazy?” Yoongi hissed through his teeth. He looked at the sleeping body next to him before bringing his eyes to meet yours. “We can’t do that. Not now, not anymore.”

Yoongi pursed his lips together to prevent himself from groaning at the sight of you. Oh, how he missed your teasing. He shook his head, “Y/N… We can’t.”

“Come on, Yoongi,” you purred. “Don’t you wanna feel your cock inside me one last time?”

Even though you two were whispering, your voices felt so loud in the dead room. You were surprised Yoongi’s fiancee hadn’t woken up yet.

Yoongi closed his eyes and let himself fall onto the bed, making it shake and groan from the sudden movement. Immediately, he glanced over to ensure his fiancee hadn’t woken up because of it.

You silently chuckled to yourself at his nervousness even though the movement worried you as well.

Yoongi shielded his eyes with his forearm as he said, “God, you know I want to, but I’m engaged, and my fiancee is right fucking here.” He removed his arm from his eyes and gestured to her as if you didn’t already know.

“That just makes it all the more fun,” you smiled. You could faintly see Yoongi’s brows knit together with hesitation.

Yoongi wondered how you would even be able to fuck each other without waking his fiancee up. Would you ride him? Would he be on top?

You watched as Yoongi laid there, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t denied your remark, so you took that as a silent agreement on his part.

You stepped closer to the bed, your knees touching it, before gently placing a knee onto the bed. It sunk from the pressure, and Yoongi, falteringly, scooted back in the bed, providing you ample room to lay down.

Yoongi missed you. A lot. Ever since he’d gotten engaged, he hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see you. You were always busy tending to his pompous fiancee, and if you weren’t doing that you were off cleaning like a maid should. He hated that. He knew you deserved so much more than the life of a maid.

“Stop thinking,” you whispered. Yoongi seemed so distant and lost in his thoughts. He should be focused on you. On your willingness to give yourself to him. On your practically naked body in front of him. “Just fuck me.”

Letting his cock control his emotions, Yoongi grabbed your wrist and yanked you closer to his parted lips. You smiled at him and watched as his gaze lowered to your lips, admiring how kissable they looked. He licked at his lips before crashing them with yours. The slight smacking of your mouths working against each other echoed in the room, but it still wasn’t loud enough to disturb his sleeping fiancée.

Yoongi licked your bottom lip, begging for access. You opened your mouth, letting him snake his tongue into your mouth as he massaged your tongue with his. You wanted so badly to moan at the sensation, but you knew you shouldn’t.

Yoongi’s grip on your wrist tightened as he pulled you even further into the kiss. That familiar aching in your core began to build, and the need for friction between your legs was nearing unbearable. Your legs were going weak because of it. You brought your free hand up and rested it on the bed to keep yourself from falling.

Yoongi threaded his fingers through your silky hair, pressing your mouth even harder against his. You could feel your lips start to bruise from the pressure, but Yoongi didn’t lighten up on his ministrations.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled away from your lips, taking every bit of warmth with him. Your face was flushed, and you were out of breath.

Before you or Yoongi had a chance to catch your breath, you placed your other knee onto the bed. Then, you carefully laid down on your side next to him, your back pressed against his warm chest. Yoongi instantly wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand finding its way to the hem of your panties. That familiar, safe feeling of being wrapped in his arms flooded your senses.

You wished this didn’t have to be breakup sex. You wished it could just be sex.

Yoongi’s fingers grazed against your clit, bringing you out of your reverie. It was the slightest touch, but it caused waves of euphoria to ripple throughout your body, settling in your toes as they curled in on themselves.

Your mouth fell open as a silent moan escaped your lips.

Your hips instinctively bucked against his hand, searching for more pressure. When Yoongi’s hand didn’t give you the friction you needed, you arched your back and pressed your ass against his cock, feeling the hard member under the soft fabric of his pajamas. His cock settled between your cheeks before you rubbed your ass back and forth and in circular motions.

You could hear Yoongi inhale sharply from behind you.

You were going to continue teasing and torturing him until he touched your swollen clit.

Yoongi’s open mouth latched onto your shoulder, his teeth slightly brushing against your skin. He wanted to moan and whisper filthy strings of praise into your ear, but he knew the second he would there’d be no stopping him from growing in volume, and that’s the last thing you two needed.

Eventually, Yoongi took the hint and rubbed circles around your clit with his thumb. You quietly sighed at the pressure and stopped your attack on his cock. As Yoongi continued to play with your clit, his middle finger sliding up and down your slit, soaking it with your juices. Then, all at once, he shoved the digit into your aching, wet core.

Your thighs immediately clamped around his arm, trapping Yoongi’s finger inside you. Your eyes closed, and you could see stars in the back of your eyelids. His fingers were long and slender but filled you up and stretched you out so perfectly. He was able to reach spots within you that your own fingers couldn’t explore.

“Another,” you breathed, your voice nearly inaudible. “Add another finger, Yoongi.” Delicately, you opened your thighs so Yoongi could push another finger in, stretching you further.

The sound of Yoongi’s fingers working in and out of you filled your ears, your arousal evident. The noise was so intoxicating Yoongi could drown in it. His cock hardened beneath you, and precum began to drip from the tip. He needed friction just as much as you did.

Pressing his hips into you, Yoongi began to grind against your ass. His movements were slow and hesitant as to not shake the bed. It was unbelievably painful, and yet every time the head of his cock grazed against your ass, he couldn’t help but moan into your hair. You helped him out by moving your hips in circular motions again.

Yoongi added a third finger into your wet core and used his palm to rub your clit. His hand was beginning to cramp from the position his hand and arm were in, but he never slowed or stopped his fingers from pleasuring you.

You reached behind you and began to stroke Yoongi’s cock over his clothes. It was hot and heavy in your hand, and you could feel every pulse. You twisted your wrist back and forth as you pumped his cock and ran your thumb over his slit. You held him a little tighter and started to stroke faster and faster.

As you stroked faster, Yoongi began to scissor his fingers inside of you, brushing against your walls at an absurd pace.

“Yoongi! I’m-” You breathed heavily. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning his name even louder. Even though he was moving so fast, you needed him to go faster. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and you knew you were about to come all over them.

You were so focused on chasing your relief, you stopped stroking his cock.

“Come for me, Princess.” Yoongi whispered into your ear. His hot breath tickled on your skin, adding to the pleasure. You missed when he’d call you princess. You could forget you were a maid, forget he was engaged, forget all the difficulties that came with your relationship, and for the night you’d become a princess. During sex, you were his princess, and that’s the only princess you wanted to be. “Come all over my fingers.”

And with that command, you were coming all over him, your juices coating his hand and making a mess all over the sheets. Yoongi quietly groaned at the sensation of you tightening around him. You continued to clench around him as you came down from your high, and you tried hard to conceal your heavy breathing. Your body convulsed under his touch as he pulled his fingers out of you, gently brushing against your sensitive clit in the process.

“Shit,” you hissed.

You laid there for a second, regaining your breath. Yoongi removed his hand from your panties and brought the soaking wet digits to his mouth before sucking on them, tasting your arousal. “God, you taste so fucking good, I just wanna eat you out and feel your pretty little cunt on my tongue.”

You smiled at the praise before reaching behind you and stroking Yoongi’s cock again. You could feel the wetness of his precum soaking through his clothes.

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “Come for me; I wanna taste you, too.”

Before you could stroke him any faster, Yoongi grabbed your wrist and stopped you. “No,” he whispered. “I wanna come inside you. Wanna feel your tight little cunt clench around me, Princess.”

Before you had a chance to protest, Yoongi was pulling down the hem of his pajama bottoms. His cock sprung free from the cloth prison, hitting his stomach. With his right hand, Yoongi grabbed his member, and with his left, he lifted your leg up, providing him room to slide into your soaking entrance.

He pushed your panties aside as you held your leg up, waiting for him. Finally, you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He rubbed it back and forth, teasing you.

You closed your eyes and let your head loll back and rest against Yoongi’s firm chest. He leaned down and planted soft kisses into your hair and on your forehead, and then watched as his cock gradually disappeared into your heat.

He was moving so slow, inch by inch, admiring the way you swallowed him up. He was so close to coming just from feeling how tight and wet you were for him. Yoongi laid there, his cock inside you, as he tried to keep himself from coming. He tightened his stomach and pulled his lips into a thin line.

It was torture for the both of you.

“Fuck,” Yoongi rasped. “I love how tight you are, always so tight no matter how many times I fuck your pretty little pussy.”

“Stop talking and actually fuck me already,” you groaned.

Suddenly, Yoongi was thrusting into you at a slow and steady pace.

You missed the feeling of being filled to the brim with his cock. He was still the perfect size for you, like you two were made for each other.

As Yoongi continued his sweet pace, you wished you could see his face twist with pleasure as his hips met your ass, but all you could do was imagine the provocative image. That wasn’t very hard to do, though. You remember vividly the way Yoongi’s eyes turned to slits, the way his brows came together with concentration, and how he always chewed on his bottom lip right before he was about to come. The picture was forever etched into your mind because nothing was more satisfying than knowing you did that to him. Knowing you turned him into a horny, dazed mess.

“Faster.” The word slipped past your bruised and swollen lips.

“Can’t.” Yoongi grunted. He didn’t have to say why he couldn’t for you to understand.

His fiancée was the problem. If only she wasn’t lying five feet away from you, then Yoongi could fuck you with the frenzied urgency he usually did. But, unfortunately, he couldn’t, and it was killing him.

You grumbled internally. At the pace Yoongi was going, it would take forever before either of you came. Taking matters into your own hands, you lifted your hips and pulled off Yoongi’s cock until just the tip was left before slamming your ass back to meet his hips.

Yoongi hissed behind you, and you continued the motion. His hand immediately gripped your waist, tightly. His nails dug into your skin, marking your hips with crescent shaped bruises. With you moving your hips and Yoongi still thrusting into you, the movement became faster, to a pace that would easily get you off - although it wasn’t nearly as fast as you were accustomed to.

The slapping of your sweaty bodies grew louder, as a result.

What if Yoongi’s fiancée woke up? The thought was oddly exciting. Her waking up and finding her fiancé’s cock buried inside a lowly maid. Just thinking about the rage she’d be in made you cackle internally with amusement.

After a while, you began to rub at your aching clit that was begging for relief. The simultaneous stimulation of your clit and pussy made the heat pooling in your stomach spread like a wildfire.

With your free hand, you latched onto Yoongi’s soft hair and craned your neck so you could crash his lips with yours. You needed something to distract you from the mess of moans threatening to escape you. You let your moans die on Yoongi’s tongue, on his lips, and in the back of his throat.

Yoongi did the same as he groaned into your mouth. He couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect you were. How soft your lips were, how tight your cunt was, how your body fit perfectly in the crevices and curves of his. He couldn’t believe that he was fucking you again. It was painful enough coming to terms with thinking the last time y'all fucked would be the last time he would ever hold you so tight.

It might just break him letting you go a second time.

Before Yoongi could dwell on the painful memory, your breathy moans pulled him back to the present.

“I’m about to come,” you sighed against Yoongi’s lips.

“Again?” Yoongi smiled. “You love my cock that much, huh? I haven’t even come yet, Princess, why don’t you wait your fucking turn.”

You whined at his demand. Lucky for you, you knew just what gets him going. Stroking his ego always proved rewarding.

Hearing you beg made his cock twitch inside you, he loved when you talked dirty. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Yoongi whispered. He licked a stripe from the base of your neck to your ear before nibbling on it. The light touch made you shudder beneath him.

Suddenly, the slow and steady pace Yoongi was fucking you with turned violent and erratic. Your breath hitched, catching in your throat.

“Yes, just like that!” You mumbled. You arched your back and shoved your face into the pillow under your head, biting the fabric. Your muffled moans left Yoongi on cloud nine; they were more frequent and growing louder as you neared your second orgasm.

Yoongi clamped his hand over your mouth to shut you up. You stopped stimulating your clit and grabbed onto Yoongi’s arm, and you released your grip on his hair, letting your arm fall onto the bed.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, shit!” You cursed into Yoongi’s palm.

Just as you tightened around him, clenching your thighs together, Yoongi muttered, “If you keep doing that I’m gonna come.”

“N-nobody’s stopping you,” you smiled into his hand and closed your eyes.

Yoongi continued plunging his cock into you, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. After a few more thrusts, you came hard for the second time. Whimpers fell from your lips as your body convulsed beside his before, finally, going limp. You squeezed hard around one last time, causing him to groan your name loud and clear. “Fuck, Princess, I’m gonna-”

“Yoongi?” You heard a small voice from behind you. Your eyes shot open.

Yoongi immediately stilled inside you. His hand on your mouth pressed harder against your lips. You inhaled quickly through your nose before holding your breath.

Yoongi’s fiancée was awake.

With one swift quick motion Yoongi threw the blanket over the both of you, covering you up.

You felt Yoongi’s fiancée shift around in the bed beside you. “Why are you being so loud? Quit moving.” She mumbled, her voice groggy.

Even though you should be scared his fiancée was awake and worried she’d notice you, you couldn’t help but be amused by the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi apologized, trying to keep his voice steady. He was a little out of breath from fucking you. “I’m just a little restless since…” he paused and looked down at you. “Since we’re getting married tomorrow.”

You let go of the breath you were holding. You didn’t want to hear this.

To distract yourself from letting useless thoughts cloud your mind, you decided to have a little fun.

“Sorry for waking you,” Yoongi apologized again. As he continued to assure his fiancée everything was alright, you tightened yourself around him. “I-”

Just as he was about to say something else he choked at the sudden pressure on his cock. You smirked, loving his reaction.

“I-” He started again but was cut off by you swirling your hips, fucking yourself on his throbbing cock. “Shit.” He hissed under his breath.

“What?” His fiancée questioned, completely unaware of the situation.

You continued to fuck Yoongi, slowly lifting your hips and sinking back onto him. It turned you on knowing Yoongi was completely powerless in this situation.

You knew Yoongi was about to come right before his fiancée woke up, so it shouldn’t take long before he actually does.

“Nothing,” Yoongi grunted. His hand was at your waist again, his grip firm. The harsh pressure of his fingers digging into your hip was oddly arousing. You knew it’d be in your best interest to stop teasing him, but you just couldn’t find it in you. It was too amusing.

The familiar twitch of Yoongi’s cock warned you of his threatening orgasm. You attempted to move the slightest bit faster to speed up the process without giving away your presence.

You could feel his thighs tensing behind you; he was trying to prevent himself from coming but the attempt was futile.

“I’ll t-try to keep it d-down,” Yoongi said as he came inside you. The thought alone that his hot cum was shooting inside you as he talked to his fiancée was enough to get the fire in the pit of your stomach ablaze once again.

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. If you bit any harder you could’ve drawn blood.

Yoongi’s hot cum filled you up and then slowly seeped out of you, running down his dick and filling your panties. You continued to squeeze around him, milking him of all the cum that you could.

“It’s fine, I’m gonna get something to drink since I’m up,” she said. “Do you want anything?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

You felt the bed shift some more followed by light footsteps that grew softer with time. You heard a door open and close.

She was gone.

Yoongi’s heart was racing, he was so worried you were going to get caught. He didn’t know what would have happened if you did. You’d probably be executed before his very eyes, and he’d probably be disowned, worst case scenario.

Yoongi finally pulled out of you and exhaled loudly, “God, you’ll be the death of me some day.”

“You know,” you smiled and craned your neck so you were looking into Yoongi’s deep brown eyes. “We have about twenty minutes before she comes back.”

You knew the palace like the back of your hand. It takes roughly ten minutes to get to the kitchen from Yoongi’s bedroom, and the princess still doesn’t quite know her way around yet so you might have more. That gave you plenty of time to go at it one more time.

Yoongi smirked at you, “Still not satisfied? You already came twice.”

“And I can do it a third time.”

“Fine, but you’re doing all the work this time,” Yoongi grinned.

You turned your body so you were chest to chest with Yoongi but still laying on your side, “Fine by me.” Your hands found their way to his hair, entangling your fingers with it. You kissed him softly, drinking in the way his lips felt against yours. You trailed small kisses up his sharp jawline and watched as he closed his eyes and stretched his neck, allowing you access to the exposed skin.

You needed a change of positions.

Suddenly, you pushed Yoongi’s shoulder so he was laying flat on the bed, and you quickly threw a leg over his waist so you could straddle him. Pulling yourself up, you sat on Yoongi’s spent dick. You ground against it, bringing it back to life. You wished you weren’t still wearing your panties, it just made it harder for the both of you. All you wanted was to feel your skin on his.

Yoongi was struggling beneath you. You were so fucking hot, he just wanted to slam his cock into you again, wanted to give you more hickeys, wanted to hear you screaming his name with that pretty little mouth of yours.

You locked eyes with him, drowning in the image before you. Yoongi’s shirt was all wrinkled and one of the buttons was undone, his hair was a mess from you running your fingers through it, and his face was flushed. His entire demeanor screamed ‘wreck me’, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Once Yoongi’s dick was fully erect again, you grabbed it and pointed it to your awaiting entrance after pushing your panties to the side.

Yoongi grabbed your wrist, “I thought you wanted to taste me, Princess?”

Confused, you scooted back and placed yourself between his thick thighs, and you leaned forward, getting ready to give him a blow job.

Your mouth was open, centimeters away from his cock, when you heard Yoongi chuckle from above you. You looked up, a pout forming on your lips. “What? Why are you laughing?”

You watched as Yoongi gave you his signature sweet smile and shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes. “Come here.”

You sat up, and Yoongi grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. Once you were straddling his chest, his hands reached behind you and cupped your ass. Your eyes never left his, not even for a second.

He slid the bra off your arms and threw the clothing onto the floor somewhere. Then he raked his hands down your back, leaving behind more marks that ultimately claimed you as his.

Now, you were completely exposed, just the way Yoongi liked you. But it wasn’t fair to you that you were the only one undressed again, like last time. So you gingerly unbuttoned the rest of Yoongi’s shirt, revealing his toned chest. Your hands roamed his body.

Yoongi’s eyes never left yours as he brought his hand to your dripping cunt. You were surprised when he slowly shoved his fingers into you, curling them in on themselves. You slammed your eyes shut and your mouth fell open in shock. His fingers felt so fucking good.

Yoongi smirked beneath you as he continued to curl and scissor his fingers in and out of you. He curled his fingers one last time, scooping up some of his cum left inside you and then pulled out of you. He raised the digits dripping with his cum to your mouth, implicitly telling you to suck on them.

Yoongi groaned at the sight of you. “Good girl,” he praised you. “Always so good for me. Now come on Princess, ride me.”

“But I thought you wanted to taste my pretty little cunt on your tongue,” you smirked at him, remembering he said that earlier. You planted your knees on the sides of Yoongi’s head and dropped yourself onto his open mouth.

Without hesitation, Yoongi licked a stripe from your clit to your entrance and then dipped his tongue inside you. You rutted against him until your clit brushed against his nose. You jerked your hips forward again, trying to put more friction on your clit.

Meanwhile Yoongi continued darting his tongue inside you and lapping up your arousal.

“Do I taste good?” You breathed. You continued to grind against his mouth, loving the erotic sounds of Yoongi eating you out.

“Yes, so fucking good,” he groaned and the vibrations sent waves of ecstasy through you. You arched your back and pinched one of your nipples, stimulating it. “I could taste you forever.”

“Come on, Baby,” you purred. “I know you can do better than that.”

Yoongi grabbed your hips and stilled you and shoved his tongue deep inside you. Your juices trickled down Yoongi’s chin, soaking the collar of his shirt. He pulled his tongue out of you and focused on your needy bud. Your clit was always so sensitive, and if he focused on it, you knew you’d be coming in no time. That didn’t seem like a bad idea, though, since you had a limited amount of time before Yoongi’s fiancee came back.

“Ah! Yoongi!!” You screamed a little louder than you meant to.

“Scream my name, Princess.”

You chanted his name like a mantra as he sucked on your clit.

It wasn’t long before you were seeing stars again and the desperateness to come was ever present. “I’m close,” you warned Yoongi. “S-stop.” You didn’t want to come on his tongue but on his cock.

You lifted your hips so he couldn’t eat you out anymore. “D-don’t wanna come yet. W-wanna come on your cock.”

You stayed planted above Yoongi’s face, panting.

“Then what are you waiting for?” He asked.

“F-fuck!”

You waited for him to drill his cock into at an absurd pace, but he didn’t. He put his arms behind his head and smiled up at you. “I told you you were going to do all the work.”

You groaned internally. You just wanted him to give it to you nice and rough to the point you’re feeling it the next day. You wanted to be aching all over, barely able to walk.

“You gonna move or-”

“Shut up.” You hissed and started moving your hips back and forth. After you adjusted to his length you pulled yourself off him and slammed your hips back down repeatedly.

“Fuck you’re so fucking good. Look at your tight little pussy swallowing me whole.” Yoongi threw his head back. You continued going hard against him, moving your hips around until he hit your g-spot.

The slapping of your ass against his hips flooded your ears. He was reaching so deep inside you. “Oh, my god!”

You squeezed your thighs together and rotated your hips. Now that his fiancee was gone, you didn’t have to keep your moans to yourself. Strangled moans escaped you; it was music to Yoongi’s ears.

His cock throbbed inside you, nearing his second orgasm of the night, and you were reaching your third. As you bounced on his cock, chasing after your high, Yoongi clenched his stomach and growled at the sensation of you.

He’ll never get tired of the image of you fucking yourself on him. He loved seeing you so fucked out.

You placed your hands on his chest, leaning forward. Your hair fell around you, covering your face. Yoongi pushed the strands back so he could see your face as you came all over him. He loved the way your mouth fell open as you silently moaned, letting the pleasure take over you. The way your eyes sparkled with bliss.

You needed to hurry - you didn’t know how long it’d been since his fiancée left, but you were sure she’d be coming back any minute now.

“You gonna come, Princess?” Yoongi grunted. “Gonna come all over my cock again?”

It didn’t take as long as usual for you to come all over Yoongi. You’d been trying to delay your third orgasm for awhile now, but you just couldn’t anymore.

You stilled on Yoongi’s dick. “Don’t stop now, I haven’t come yet.”

You sighed, too drained to continue moving. Yoongi took pity on you and began to fuck himself into you. “Don’t worry, baby, if you keep clenching like that I’ll be coming real soon.” So you kept clenching around him, trying to help him come faster. He fucked into you so rough that it hurt, but you were too tired to stop him. After a few more strokes, Yoongi yelled, “I’m coming!” And then his hot cum exploded inside you. He grunted and kept himself inside.

You fell onto his heaving chest. Your heavy breathing mixed with his as you two tried to catch your breath.

That was it.

That was the last time you’d ever have sex with Yoongi. Even though you were lying in his arms, his cock inside you, you couldn’t help but feel so indescribably lonely. Your eyes welled with tears.

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry, but you were never really able to easily control your emotions. A single tear fell onto Yoongi’s chest, and he quickly realized you were crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice. You didn’t look at him because you knew if you did you’d end up crying even harder.

In less than twenty-four hours Yoongi will be married to another woman. He’ll hold her at night, tell her he loves her, and they’ll probably even have kids someday. You were so jealous that she gets to wake up to Yoongi and hear his morning voice and see his bedhead. Something that you’d always dreamed of doing. You were so jealous that he was hers and hers alone.

Yoongi ran his thumb under your eye, “Don’t cry.”

He reached over and grabbed his crown off the dresser and placed the gold item loosely on your head. “You’ll always be my princess,” Yoongi whispered.

“Dearly beloved,” the minister bellowed. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Yoongi and Jisoo in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, that is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly. “Into this estate these two persons present come now to be joined.

“If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

You stood off to the side, alone, with a perfect view of Yoongi’s face. You wanted to scream and shout and let everyone know that you loved him, and that you should be the one marrying him, not her, but you kept your voice to yourself.

Watching the ceremony only hurt you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

When no one dared to speak up, the minister continued. Turning to Yoongi he said, “Mr. Yoongi, if you would repeat after me: I, Yoongi-”

“I, Yoongi,” he repeated.

“Take thee Jisoo-”

“Take thee Jisoo.”

“To be my wedded wife-”

Yoongi hesitated. His eyes drifted past his fiancée’s head and stared straight into yours. Your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes softened, and a somber smile filled his face. “To be my wedded wife.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health-”

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.” Yoongi repeated, still staring into your eyes.

“To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part.” The minister finished the vow.

“To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part.” Yoongi stated. His eyes bored into yours.

Silence fell around you, and you watched desperately as he mouthed three achingly painful words.

I loved you.

Part 3 (final)

#*forgets I was supposed to post this*#pls dont hate me #bts #yoongi #bts yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #bts smut #bts angst #min yoongi #bts suga #suga smut #suga angst #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios

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