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faevi · 1 year

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GOJO SATORU WAKES YOU UP - (smut)

Scenario: Gojo Satoru promised to help you wake up on time and fix your sleeping schedule. He decides to use his own methods. (SMUT).

Word Count: 3,890.

Content / Trigger Warning: female reader (she/her), somnophilia, cunningulous, finger sucking, gagging, tasting of oneself(?), fingering, squirting, praise, a little bit of degradation / humiliation, a sprinkle of possessiveness, hair pulling, marking with hickies, pet-names, slight size kink, gojo being hot?

Please let me know if i missed anything - if i have, it’s genuinely unintentional.

Note: As you can see, I'm slowly getting back into writing cause I miss it. So it might be a liiiiittle bit rusty. This is my first Satoru piece! I plan to write many more. This isn't proofread / edited - So please just ignore any mistakes lkdfgfd. I also tried to follow the aesthetic trends of how everyone posts their writing pieces?? Editing is hard. I hope someone reads this and likes it (: Please let me know if you do!

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Satoru’s warm gaze never left the bed. Even as he blindly wraps the leather strap around his wrist, long fingers sliding the strap through the metal half circle, prick poking into the hole and tightens the watch. He decided to let you sleep in for an extra hour as he prepared himself for work. It’s difficult for the tall male to not indulge in spoiling you, especially when you look so cute curled up and drool seeping out onto the pillow.

Still…. He made a promise to both himself and you that he’d help you improve your sleeping schedule and limit sleeping in. It pains his heart whenever he watches you get upset from wasting hours of your day. Satoru gently sprays his cologne, dabbing it against the sides of his neck and wrists before setting the fancy-looking bottle down amongst your many that he’s purchased for you. He checks the time on his watch, already unbuttoning the few buttons of his white dress shirt. It’s 8:10 AM and he has to leave soon.

The white-haired male opts out on waking you up in a usual loud-playful manner of his. Simply because, well, you’re looking too cute. Just how you manage to coax him into letting you sleep in without even having to lift a finger. Satoru approaches the shared bed, feet silent against the carpet floor before he lowers one knee against the mattress, feeling it sink beneath his weight as he leans down, large hand sliding from your waist to hug around your stomach.

“Baby, it’s time to wake up..” Satoru speaks softly, voice his usual low and soothing. He scatters kisses against your bare shoulder, fingers gently brushing against your stomach before his palm presses against it. You only stir a little in your peaceful slumber, curling up further and pitifully trying to pull the blankets over your head. Satoru snorts, endeared by how you are just not a morning person at all. His loving attempt was a failure and he watches as you continue to sleep, wondering what you’re dreaming about.

Strands of white hair fall over his crystal blue eyes as he presses his bigger form against you, almost smothering you but he keeps his weight off of you, trying to peek at your face beneath the blankets. “If you wake up now, I’ll take you out for breakfast.” Satoru offers, hands on your body stopping as he waits to see if that temptation would have gotten a response. Nothing. Only soft breathing. ‘How can someone be such a heavy sleeper’, he thinks in almost disbelief. Satoru rolls his eyes before he stands up at the edge of the bed, hands tucking into the pockets of his black slacks. The sadistic, playful side within him calls to rile you up in the early morning by yanking the blankets and dragging your body off of the mattress but…

His heart just squeezes at the sight of the bundle of blankets forming barriers around you. Nothing is tucked in tightly, thanks to the fun last night and so instantly, an idea pops into his head. He has access. Satoru is often fantasizing about you. Hell, it feels like it’s every second of the day. It’s a miracle that he’s even able to focus on work or crack a joke to annoy his co-workers. Satoru is just the best at multi-tasking and right now, he craves to devour you and wake you up… eventually. Technically it’s multi-tasking.

Satoru bends over, lifting the blankets up cautiously from the bottom until he could see your bare legs. His heart begins to thump faster with excitement at the thought of touching you when you’re at your most vulnerable; cock twitching in his slacks. He flicks the blankets over to keep your legs exposed, hands rolling up the sleeves of his tight fitted dress shirt before he lowers his upper body onto the mattress, one hand guiding the blankets over his head until he finds himself trapped between your legs, hungry gaze falling onto your pussy.

Even with the darkness clouding around him from the blankets, Satoru can see everything. Your cunt already lightly coated in a light sheen of slick. Appearing so inviting for the taller male. He groans quietly, large hands cupping the back of your thighs and pauses for a moment. You don’t even squirm from the new touch. Whatever you’re dreaming about must be good. That, or your trust in him is so deep that it reaches sleep. He guides your legs over his broad shoulders, shifting himself so his knees are planted on the carpet, the length of your legs staying over his shoulders as he presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, tongue sliding out to teasingly dance across your smooth skin. His love-marks from last night only encourage him, lips latching onto your warm flesh to suck harshly to form another; now starting to feel you squirm a little.

You whine softly in your sleep, trying to roll onto your side but it fails as his strength easily keeps you flat on your back; body thinking nothing of it as you continue your peaceful slumber. He clicks his tongue in disapproval, though lips curled in amusement. “A sleeping beauty, all mine for the taking.” Satoru mumbles beneath his breath, fingers squeezing your flesh roughly before inching up until his long index finger glides between your folds. It slides so easily. Wet, already. He groans, pressing his crotch against the edge of the bed to try and contain himself. Invading your wet needy cunt with his cock would definitely wake you up but he thinks you need to earn it and you’re unable to do so in such a slumber.

Satoru is always in absolute awe when it comes to the sight of your pussy becoming so easily aroused just from his touch. Even as you sleep. Two of his fingers continue to cautiously glide up and down between your slick covered folds, grinning a little at noticing your thighs quivering from the careful touch. Even your hole clenches around nothing in response, desperate to be filled. Your eyebrows furrow, tilting your head into the pillow to lazily nuzzle against it in your sleep, inhaling the scent of the white-haired male that lingers. “Fuck, baby..” Satoru mumbles, two of his fingers pressing against your folds until they part to reveal your sensitive clit and needy hole. Strings of slick become visible and Satoru is always easily tempted. He drags his tongue between to break the strings, pleased by tasting you further.

With silent frustration towards the blankets hiding your face, Satoru swiftly yanks them off until the pair of you are exposed, blankets discarded on the floor. He coos mockingly as you begin to shiver from the cold. “Poor baby girl, needs warming up.” He whispers, toned arms wrapping around your thighs to keep them in place over his shoulders. Your inner thighs squeeze against his face, piercing blue eyes focusing on your sleeping face as he quickly dives in to devour you, growling lowly. His lips pressing sweetly against your sopping pussy, wet muscle dragging between your folds, moans muffled as he taste your sweet juices on his daring tongue. His mind going wild with the idea of what he could do to you as you sleep so deeply. It tempts him so much that Satoru thinks of testing further other times.

A whimpering moan parts from your sleeping lips, face scrunching up as pleasure spreads through your body from your core, fist bunching the sheets up. You stir in your slumber only slightly and for once, Satoru is glad you don’t wake up instantly. He feels powerful, being able to touch and kiss you when you’re completely vulnerable but still feeling the absolute bliss that is his tongue. Short nails dig into your thighs, pressing his face further between your legs as his open mouth makes out hungrily with your cunt. He could barely breathe from how firmly he’s pressing his face into your core, only inhaling the scent of your sex. His tongue laps up your sweetness before he leans in to press sloppy kisses to your throbbing clit, sucking harshly and tongue rubbing against the bud until he feels your legs tense up and tremble, pitifully trying to contain the ecstasy you begin to feel from his eager mouth never parting from your lower lips.

Tongue swirls around the nub lightly between his needy kisses, juices smearing across his handsome face. Blindly, your hand reaches down towards the source, fingers threading through his white hair. You begin to wake up. Slowly. Not truly able to get out of your slumber but, you feel the sweet pleasure wash over you constantly and your mind begins to seek for answers. “A-Ah… Wha— Nn…” You moan out, unable to form words from the cloud of sleepiness hanging over your head. What is going on? Something feels so good… You could barely lift it off of the pillows, eyes glancing down. You feel face get hot when realisation starts to hit you; Satoru is gazing back up at you. The piercing blue eyes wide and manic with a mixture of excitement & hunger. He’s eating you out like a starved man.

Satoru barely lifts his mouth to speak, voice dripping with lust and sounding breathless. “Good morning, princess. Finally awake, huh? Took me to touch your needy cunt for you to wake up? Filthy. My dirty little slut, hm?” The degrading words slip out through a teasing purr, prompting your free hand to pathetically try to cover your face. You feel your heart flutter, head dizzy with lustful thoughts. Drowsiness hands over your head but, it doesn’t stop your cravings starting to form. You couldn’t deny that the sadistic ways Satoru shows only causes your pussy to clench around nothing; wishing to be stretched out by his thick, pulsating cock.

“Nn, ‘toru, please—”

“No cock for you.”

He could practically read your mind by knowing you too well. That’s what you get for refusing to wake up in the first place, you suppose. Especially since you begged him to help you fix your awful habit. Satoru may love to spoil you, shower you in love and pleasure but, he can be almost scary with how firm he is with punishments. This isn’t the worst and so you accept it. You pout sleepily, eyes droopy as you watch the tall male bury his mouth against your wet cunt against, flustered by the sounds of just how excited your body is. It’s an addicting sight to see. A tall man lapping up your slick, groaning quietly from the delicious taste of you. He could taste you for hours on end if he could. Moans of his name part from you as you feel his tongue rub relentlessly against your pulsing clit, slurping loudly as his lips move against your folds, drinking every drop that dares to seep out. “Fuck, you taste so good.” Satoru groans, lips dragging down until his tongue teases your hole. You see stars, gasping sharply as you pull on the strands of his silky white hair.

Satoru groans from the ache he feels, head tilting back away from your hand to feel more of the painful tug, tongue licking over your fluttering hole, gently prodding at it. You anticipate it and, that’s why Satoru pulls away. He’s kneels up and grins down at you, admiring the way your body trembles so cutely beneath him. Your slick is dripping down his chin, coating his lower face. Your face falls from the loss of pleasure, attempting to whine in complaint. “Satoru, come on…” It does nothing, asides from making his cock strain even further against his slacks. Satoru takes his sweet time, wiping his face with his hand, watching as a string of your mess connects his fingers together.

“Dirty girl.” He comments before bringing his hand towards your face. “Open wide.” Satoru orders, voice smooth and instantly, you part your lips to happily take his long fingers into your mouth. Even this is spoiling. Satoru knows you have a wild fetish for his hands and so, if it’s not his cock that you can take; you’ll eagerly take his fingers down your throat. Your needy moans are muffled as you suck your own sweetness off of his fingers. The pads of his fingers press against your soft wet muscle, sliding them further down and watches intently as you swallow around them, his gaze darkening. Your throat muscles constrict around the invasion, causing you to gag audibly but you continue to suck like the filthy whore you are for this man.

“So good for me, aren’t you? Taking everything I give you.” He speaks soothingly, his free hand caressing your stomach. His other hand continues to slide long, slender fingers in and out of your mouth. You whimper, looking up at him with an ‘innocent’ gaze as you continue to obediently suck, only able to taste yourself, few droplets escaping down your chin. Satoru feigns calmness, checking the time on his watch. You couldn’t help but think how hot it is when he even checks the time. You’ve fallen that deep for the tall male. He’s definitely going to be late to work. Frankly, he doesn’t fucking care. They need him more than he needs them. What he truly needs? You. Always. Every shape and form. Still, this isn’t about him and so with every fibre of his being, Satoru ignores his cock, even though it throbs badly & craving to be touched.

“If you promise me to wake up properly when I wake you, I’ll let you come.” Satoru promises, slipping his fingers out of your mouth, thumb swiping gently against your lower lip. “P-Please, I promise! I’ll wake up on time, I swear.. I’ll listen to you, always. Please.” You beg, voice raspy from the lack of talking and having fingers deep down your throat. “Okay, baby~.” He coos, leaning down to press a loving kiss to your soft tiers, unable to deny how cute you are when you beg for him. You could smell is heavenly cologne gently waft over you from how close he is. One of your favourite scents. “Still, no cock.” He whispers breathlessly against your lips, hand trailing down to between your legs. You pout at him from denying you his cock once more, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close.

He lovingly rubs his nose against yours, obliging your clinginess by keeping his bigger form pressed against you in an embrace, scattering kisses against your jawline as his long fingers meet your needy core once more. He doesn’t tease you by dragging out his time with you, two of his fingers rub against your quivering hole before finally pushing in slowly. They slide in so easily. Even if it’s just his fingers, Satoru groans at the feeling of your tight, velvety walls cling around his digits, squeezing. Your breathing becomes erratic from feeling the sweet stretch around his digits; nothing compared to the entire length of Satoru’s thick cock but, his fingers still feel so heavenly inside of you. You briefly wonder if you could just live your life with a part of him always inside of you.

You’re clinging onto him, upper body rising off of the bed and his free arm wraps around you to keep you pressed against him, soft lips still attached to your jawline, sucking firmly enough to leave a bruise. Another possessive mark to wear with pride. His long fingers pump deep inside of you, feeling them drag along your warm slick walls as they push in and out. Moans just spill from you and Satoru feels so damn aroused just from how needy and precious you sound. Your slick already dripping onto the sheets as he continues to pound his fingers into your tight cunt roughly, angling them until—

“Oh!” You gasp sharply when a jolt of ecstasy rushes over your entire body, upper body jerking upwards from the sudden sensation. Satoru knows where to find your sweet spot quickly and is already eager to abuse it until he witnesses pretty tears in your eyes, sobbing his name out over and over like your own prayer. The white-haired male keeps you trapped beneath his large frame, plunging his fingers desperately, rubbing against your g-spot and keeping his blue eyes focused on your visage. Fuck, it really turns him on to see your face scrunch up and mouth hanging open as you’re unable to contain yourself, crying out for him.

You choke on a sob, toes curling against the crinkled sheets and bare breasts jiggling from the impact of Satoru’s fingers moving, encouraging your hips to move as you grind down onto them. You feel complete bliss, not able to feel flustered like usual from the wet squelching sounds of your throbbing pussy. Pleasure in the form of electricity just shoots through your body, trying so hard to contain yourself by tensing up. Satoru knows you’re pathetic when it comes to that. It’s adorable, really. He enjoys watching you try to hide how good it feels before you’re babbling out his name, screaming for him.

Just as you are now. From his fingers alone. You bite down on his shoulder, trembling hands holding onto him as you cry out for him, tears glued to your long pretty lashes. Your stomach is feeling so hot and tight, throbbing walls clenching around his relentless fingers. “Sweet girl, need to come?” Satoru chuckles softly, warm breath fanning against the side of your face. The free arm holding himself up aches a little but that is nothing compared to his strength. Though, he knows you’d probably love being smothered by his larger body; Satoru selfishly wants to witness it all. Witness you come undone by just his digits.

You whimper, deliberately squeezing around his fingers to coax out a grunt from him. It’s true. He can read you so well because you really do need to let go. Be broken in by the man. There’s an unspoken rule between you both and that is waiting on his permission. He loves how obedient you get for him in the bed. So fucking cute and sweet. He drags it out a little longer, not quite done with you. He grinds his fingers into you, now pressing his palm against your sopping pussy and makes contact with your overly-sensitive clit.

“Ah, fuck! Please!” You plead breathlessly, a hand coming down to weakly hold onto his wrist but neither of you refuse to stop him. Satoru peels himself off of you, creating more distance between your body and you could see his eyes cloud darkly with desire for something. “Come for me.” Satoru orders, free hand pressing against your stomach, the fingers deep in your core now rapidly moving up and down. You pant heavily, feeling your high swiftly approaching as you try to lean up on your elbows, thighs squirming. Everything feels so damn hot and sensitive, it’s a miracle you’re not snapping your legs shut on his hand as you usually can’t help it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuu—‘Toru!!” You cry out in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure now constantly crash down over your body, leaving you trembling hard, eyes rolling. Satoru is quick to slide his fingers out to watch the heavenly sight he’s been craving for; you squirting. Fuck, he thinks. He’s panting himself as your sweet juices spurt out in lots, gushing hard all over the bed and his work slacks. “Squirting all over me, filthy girl.” He groans, not daring to blink. ‘Do not dare miss a moment’, he thinks. Your hips snap upwards, chasing the addicting high as your wetness continues to spill out. Tears escape, sobbing out for the white-haired male, body feeling so hot and tingly.

Satoru coos at the adorable sight of you coming undone from his mouth and fingers. Large hands caressing along your sides, not daring to hold you down through your orgasm. He enjoys it far too much as you tremble and cry for him. “Good girl..” He praises, one hand coming to stroke your hair, peppering kisses against your bare shoulder. His office clothes are a mess now, your fluids soaked in patches against his black slacks. He didn’t care. He loves you too much. Satoru lays next to you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you in and lips cautiously brushing away your pretty tears, mixing in with the taste of your sweetness that lingers on his tongue. You slur out a whine when you feel his tongue against your face, body still trembling gently as it naturally comes down from the high. You feel so sensitive. No one else has ever made you feel anything this good until Satoru.

Satoru…

You just always crave to be with Satoru. Body, soul, heart & mind. This is where you belong. You lean back into his loving embrace, smiling from the multiple kisses that he presses to the top of your head, trying to look up at him through droopy eyelids. You could feel his bulge pressing against your backside. “Well, I’m awake now.” You joke sheepishly, prompting the male to snort and roll his eyes. “Didn’t take much to wake you, just my face buried between your legs. Should have tried that from the start, knowing how needy you are for me.” Satoru teases sweetly, lips curled to form a cocky grin. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, rolling over to bury your face into his firm chest, slowly gliding your hand down towards his crotch. His large hand smothers yours, stopping your movement and you pout. He’s still firm on the ‘no cock’ rule this morning for refusing to wake up, much to his dismay. His length aches from no action. You press an apologetic kiss to his broad shoulder, voice quiet.

“Don’t you need to leave for work? You’re already late.”

“Nah, they can wait a little longer. I’m with my girl.”

You smile at that, always feeling spoiled by him. You giggle softly, ignoring how sticky your legs feel as you tangle them with. He gazes fondly at you, arm draped over your side. His sweet girl. All his. He presses his lips to your cheekbone. It’s moments like these, that you really adore. Silence can even be comforting with the white-haired male. Satoru is in love with you. The warmth in his eyes will never fade, even if he’s feeling particularly nasty to ruin you in bed. His crystal blue eyes refuse to leave you, fingers splaying across your naked back, nails dragging over the hot skin. He clears his throat, trying to bite back a smug expression.

“So, Y/N. Dick for dinner tonight?”

You burst out with laughter, nose scrunching slightly. “Come on.” You say, sitting up and taking hold of his hand, fingers interlocking. You could feel your dried up slick causing his hand to become sticky. “Washing hands and breakfast first. I want your famous pancakes.” You express with a loud kiss to his cheek. Satoru puffs out his chest proudly before helping you off the bed, unbothered by the still wet patches on his slacks. It’s a pleasant reminder, after all.

“Anything for my princess.”

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naivegh0ul · 10 months

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OKAY BUT how about Older¡Ghost extremely jealous when his neighbor (reader) brings someone to her house to fuck with her? He would be extremely mad about it, but couldn't help but hear her moans and whimpers, wishing it was him instead making her feel good. (And to be honest, she may only did that to caught Ghost's attention )

YESSS god I love the idea of jealous Older!Ghost (it took me way too answer this i am so so so sorry anon!!!)

(warnings: smut, fem reader, older!ghost, jealousy, blowjobs, face fucking)

(word count: 1908)

It's 3am and Ghost hasn't gotten an ounce of sleep. How could he, when he can hear you moaning so sweetly through the walls. This has been a nightly occurrence. Ghost would go to bed, lay there for a while as he scrolled through pictures of you on his phone, and then the moaning would start.

The first time it happened, Ghost brushed it off, he's heard you pleasuring yourself through the walls before. Hell, he's even watched you. But this time you sounded different. Not so breathy, more high-pitched. Exaggerated.

The second time, he heard the creaking noise. Your bed must be rocking back and forth. Again, not the first time Ghost has heard that, but it is the first time he's heard grunts to go along with it.

Now, at three o'clock in the morning, Ghost has finally had enough. He climbs out of bed, feeling angry and annoyed. Angry that his sleep is being disrupted, and annoyed that he's hard from your moans.

He storms out of bed and out of his house, making his way towards your home in only a pair of grey sweatpants and socks, the imprint of his hard cock visible at the front of his sweats.

There's no response when Ghost knocks the first time, so he goes to knock again but your front door swings open before he can. "Mr. Riley!" You exclaim, slightly out of breath. "W-what's the matter?"

Ghost looks you up and down not so discreetly, noting the fact that one of your pant legs is riding up a little, and your shirt is up slightly, revealing the hickies and bite marks littering your stomach.

A twinge of jealousy filled Ghost at the sight. He has no right to be jealous, he knows that, but he is. You are his. Not officially, but you belong to Ghost. He knows what you like, how to crook his fingers to make you cry out his name, what filthy things to say to make you an embarrassed, whining mess.

That man in your bed probably has no idea what to do, he most likely just whipped his dick out and tried to put it in you, not even bothering to make you cum on his fingers first. He's probably your age, too. Young, immature, thinks with his dick.

Ghost can feel himself getting riled up the more he thinks about that stupid guy in your house. Ghost's is gonna give him what he deserves, the second he leaves your house Ghost is gonna wrap his hands around his throat and watch the life bleed from him-

"Simon?" Your sweet voice coos, pulling Ghost out of his spiraling thoughts. "Have a nice night." Ghost grunts out, turning away and walking straight back to his house.

Going to your house was a bad idea. You're a grown woman, for God's sake. He should leave you alone and stop being such an obsessive old man.

The sound of your sock-covered feet hitting the pavement has Ghost turning around before he enters his house. "Simon!" You say, looking up at him as you come to a stop on his front doorstep. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?" There's clear concern in your eyes, making Ghost's heart melt.

"'M fine, love. Don't worry 'bout me." Ghost sighs, reaching forward to ruffle your hair. "Go back inside, 'm sure your guest is waitin' for you."

Ghost tries to turn around again but your hands reach out and grab the waistband of his joggers. "He..." You mumble, looking down at your feet. "He doesn't make me feel as good as you do." You admit as you glance up at Ghost with pleading, desperate eyes.

"Love..." Ghost sighs again "'M too old for you, alright? Go back inside, pretty girl." He leans forward and kisses your forehead softly and strokes your hair before pulling back.

Suddenly, you're on your knees in front of him, hands tugging at his waistband. "Please, Simon?" You coo, palming him through his joggers. Ghost swears under his breath, cock twitching and his hands curling into fists as he fights off the urge to give in.

No, he gave in once. He got his fill, he shouldn't be greedy. But you look so pretty in front of him, kneeling on the hard concrete, your face so close to his throbbing cock.

"You really want this, don't you?" Ghost says as he rubs the bridge of his nose. "Come on, get up. Don't want you kneeling on the concrete." Ghost reaches down and pulls you up, guiding you into his house.

Once the door is shut, you sink to your knees again, eager to please Ghost. "Fuck, you're eager." Ghost breathes as he undoes the ties on his sweatpants, pushing the garment down past his hips, exposing his cock to you.

He watches as your throat bobs and you swallow, your hands sliding up and down his thighs impatiently. Ghost wraps a hand around himself and strokes himself a few times, watching as you shuffle forward and open your mouth.

"Just this once." Ghost thinks to himself as he grabs the back of your head and slowly pushes his cock inside your waiting mouth, groaning loudly as the feeling of your warm, wet mouth engulfs him.

His hand guides you up and down the length of his cock, his fingers tangled in your hair and tugging ever so slightly. He has to fight the urge to buck forward, to fuck into your mouth as you drool all over him.

When he feels your hand on his balls suddenly, he jolts, a moan being shocked out of him as you gently roll them in your hand. "Attagirl," Ghost praises softly, barely audible over the sound of your slurping and gagging as you try to pleasure him at your pace, not his.

Ghost lets you do what you want, letting go of your hair and watching as you scoot forward and take more of Ghost into your mouth. It's a delicious sight, seeing your mouth stretching around him as your fingers wrap around the base of Ghost's cock.

You move further down Ghost's shaft each time, taking more and more of him. Your lips bump into your fingers as you take away one each time, building yourself up until finally you've got Ghost's cock buried deep in your throat, your neck bulging ever so slightly.

"Fuuuck," Ghost groans as he throws his head back, bumping it into the wall. His hips jerk, forcing himself further down your throat and making his heavy balls slap against your face. When you swallow around him, it takes everything in him not to cum right then and there. He has to pull you back so he can control himself.

You're pulled off with a wet cough, one hand holding your throat while the other wipes the spit from your mouth. "Why'd you stop?" You rasp as you look up at Ghost, licking your lips.

"Got close." You tilt your head at his explanation. "Why didn't you just cum then?" Your hand finds its way back to Ghost's cock, your thumb and forefinger gently pulling back Ghost's foreskin as you wait for a response.

"Didn't know if... mhm, if you wanted me to." He pauses mid-sentence as you wrap your lips around his tip, lapping the milky white precum beading from his slit. Your tongue digs under his foreskin, licking him teasingly.

You're so good at this, making Ghost feel like he has no control and you're in charge when you're only giving him a blowjob. You're not even doing anything special, not ordering him around or trying to be dominant, you're just gently suckling on his cock and now you've got him wrapped around your finger.

And it's not fair. Ghost wants to fuck a pretty girl like you with no repercussions, but he knows that's not possible, the moment they're having explains that all away. You can't get pleasure from anyone other than Ghost, and he can't stop himself from pleasuring you.

He's trying so hard to focus and what you're doing, but the way your hand strokes him and your tongue laps at him has him feeling floaty and drunk so he doesn't notice when he starts thrusting his hips forward slowly, fucking into the wet heat of your mouth.

Your hands hold onto his hairy thighs as he gently fucks your mouth, your nails scratching lightly as you let him do what he wants. He sounds so gorgeous, breathy moans and groans escaping his throat as he rocks his hips.

You watch him, big eyes looking up at Ghost curiously as you swallow. He looks so good from where you're kneeling, mindless yet focused as he moves you up and down on his cock like you're a toy, just a thing for his pleasure.

And you let him. You let him drag you along his cock or hold you still so he can fuck into your mouth; you let him lose himself as he stares into your teary, lustful eyes.

"So pretty down there." Ghost mumbles, slurring his words as if he's drunk on the feeling of you. "Perfect little mouth, so warm..." His hand moves from the back of your head to the side, Ghost's other hand joining in as he holds you still and slowly thrusts into your mouth, letting out breathy little grunts each time.

He's close, you can tell from the way his breathing speeds up and hips move faster, eagerly bucking into your mouth. Ghost gets rough when he's close, you know that, so you're prepared when he adjusts his stance and grips your head tighter, pulling you down so your nose is buried in the thick hair at the base of his cock.

"Fuuuck," Ghost groans as he feels your throat contract, watches as your eyes water and your hands grip his thigh. "Good fucking girl, takin' me so well." His thumb swipes below your eye, wiping away your tears as his hips snap against your face, balls slapping your chin.

"'M close," He pants, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth. "You gonna swallow it like a good girl?" At his words, you moaned, eyebrows pinching as you scooted forward on the floor and licked at the sensitive vein on the underside of Ghost's cock.

“Yeah, ‘s what I thought.” His hands tighten their hold on your head, pulling you closer to him. You’re a gagging, drooling mess, hands planted in your lap as you hear Ghost let out a loud, long moan, his hips stilling as he forces his cock further into your mouth, spilling his seed down your throat.

When Ghost finally lets you off – after holding you there for an unreasonable amount of time – you splutter and cough, one hand gingerly holding your throat while the other wipes your mouth.

You stand up after a moment, knees clicking and cracking from being so stiff and you look at Ghost with a tiny smile on your face and a happy expression. Boldly, you lean closer, standing on your tiptoes as you go in for a kiss.

But Ghost stops you with a hand on your shoulder, shutting you down. “We shouldn’t.” He shakes his head as he speaks. He can see the look of hurt and confusion in your eyes as you step back, visibly embarrassed.

“Um, I’ll go now.” You say softly, avoiding eye contact. “Bye, Mr. Riley.”

#asks #fem reader #older!ghost #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost smut #i am so bad with posting stuff at a normal rate #i'm so sorry anon 😭#i had so much fun with this request tho #thank you for sending it <3

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andreafmn · 1 year

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Ours | Derek Hale Oneshot

Word Count: 3.5K Requested by @gracelynn318: "Derek or Stiles finding out that their significant other (the reader) is pregnant and they try to keep it secret for as long as possible" Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms (vomiting, nausea, fatigue)

Summary: Derek Hale and (Y/N) have been together for a long time, and they didn't know something was missing from their lives until it arrived unexpectedly. And all they want to do is revel in the moment for as long as they can, by themselves.

A/N: this story follows 0% of canon, just the character's names. will admit. I am a horrible Teen Wolf fan that has yet to see season 5 and 6, and I've also yet to watch the movie. So, definitely an AU 😬also, be on the lookout for tonight or tomorrow for another surprise regarding this request 😉😉

Derek had noticed the change long before (Y/N) had. Long before she knew why she spent her days expelling her meals down the toilet drain, before she understood why her body craved more food than she could keep down, before she had even noticed that a month had passed and her period had not arrived.

It came late at night. The soft putter of a heartbeat that felt so far that it could have been confused with the sound of rain against the pavement. They had been lying in bed, the exhaustion of living in Beacon Hills the only thing they needed to crash at night. But the sound had been bothering Derek. The continuous rhythm didn’t allow the wolf to lose himself in much-needed slumber. The sound kept him up, especially from where it was coming from.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, running his hand up and down her arm to wake her. “(Y/N), baby, wake up.”

“Mm,” she groaned groggily, cuddling to his body tightly. “Go to sleep, Derek.”

“(Y/N), I gotta ask you something. Wake up.”

“We can talk in the morning,” she whined. “I’m tired right now.”

“It’s important,” he chuckled softly. “I need your complete focus.”

With a loud exhale, (Y/N) sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The sheet fell from her torso, and the coldness of the night made her skin erupt in goosebumps. She rarely got angry with Derek, but she was coming quite close at that very moment. “You better have a good reason to wake me, Der,” she said. “I’m so tired I might just put off killing you until tomorrow.”

“Listen, please,” he said. “When was the last time you got your period?”

“What?” the girl questioned. “You seriously just woke me up to ask about my cycle?”

“More or less. Just answer. Did you get it last month?”

It took her a moment to think. The grogginess of being woken up still clutched her mind, and recounting the past weeks was hard. But her body startled awake as she realized she had not gotten her shark week in a month and a half. That fact alone did not scare her. She had always been irregular, and in moments of stress, it was more likely than not that she skipped a cycle. The problem was that not only had she missed a period, she had been feeling sick for the past three weeks. And the math was not too hard to do.

“I-I didn’t,” she stammered. “W-why are you asking?”

“Oh my god,” he answered. “Oh my god!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Derek pressed his ear to her stomach until he could hear the sound clearly. Alongside (Y/N)’s quickening heartbeat, a quieter, steady pattern joined. It was too indistinguishable now. “You’re pregnant,” he said. So quiet he wasn’t sure if he had said it at all. “There’s a baby in there. Our baby.”

“Pregnant…” (Y/N) could not believe the word even as it rolled out of her tongue. “I can’t believe it.”

“We’ll go to Deaton tomorrow, but I’m certain. I can hear their heart beating in there.”

(Y/N)’s mind was reeling. Pregnant, she thought to herself. The word felt foreign. So did her body. Derek had noticed the change before her. How could she not have known that a life was growing inside her? How could she ever be a mother when she did not even know herself?

Without realizing it, tears fell down her cheeks. She felt weak and panicked. The strong woman that had faced the biggest dangers and far scarier monsters trembled with the thought of a life depending on her for survival. It was one thing to volunteer to protect the members of the pack. They were old enough to fend for themselves. It was another to be responsible for the life and survival of another human.

“Hey,” Derek called. His voice sounded like it was underwater. So far away that she could barely hear it. “Baby, what’s going on?”

She hadn’t noticed that she had stood from the bed and was pacing around their room. Her breathing was shallow, and her chest heaved as she took in short breaths, trying to steady herself. Tears kept falling faster than she could wipe them away. They warmed her cheeks before the air turned them cold. It was the only thing that grounded her.

And Derek. Always Derek.

He had gotten off the bed, and within a second, he was wrapping his arms around her. The warmth from his skin calmed her. It brought her senses back to the moment, steadying her rampant heart.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” he spoke into the crook of her neck. “Tell me what I can do to make it better.”

“I’m scared, Derek,” she sighed, tightening her grip around him. “A baby. Here. Now.”

“Why not here?” Derek smiled, his hands running through her hair. “Why not now? With you as their mother, that baby could be born underground, and they would be the luckiest child in the world.”

“How could you be so sure?” (Y/N) cried. “I forget things all the time, I’m clumsy, I can barely redeem myself when it comes to fighting. If it weren’t for my weapons, I wouldn’t bring much to the fight against our enemies. What good would I be to protect a child? How could I be entrusted with their entire upbringing?”

“Oh, (Y/N). You’re far more valuable than what you bring to a fight.” His hands cradled her face, the green of his eyes boring into hers. “You are the most caring person I know. If it weren’t for you, I would have killed half of the pack by now. You’re smart. You’re funny. And if anyone should be terrified of becoming a parent, it should be me.”

“Come on,” she scoffed jokingly, her tears finally subsiding. “You’d be an amazing father. Temperamental, but great nonetheless.”

“Well, I’m glad it at least got you laughing,” he grinned. “How about we just take this one day at a time, baby? Make sure we take things slow. Tell people on our own time. Instead of going to the doctor, we buy a pregnancy test at the pharmacy; confirm what I already know.”

“But if you can hear the heartbeat, I am sure all the other wolves will, too,” she worried. “How am I supposed to take things as they come when everyone will know the second they come here?”

“Then, I won’t let anyone back here,” he smiled. “I’ll have them meet me at the warehouse or at Argent’s place. We can say you’re sick with something and won’t be there. Or that you went to visit family out of state –I don’t know. The point is, we can do this, baby. I know we can.”

“Well, I do admire your tenacity,” she chuckled, kissing his lips softly and hugging him again. “One day at a time, right?”

“One day at a time.”

And it worked. For two months, at least.

That very morning, he went out and returned home with five pregnancy tests and a bouquet of flowers. And five minutes later, they all showed an array of dark pink plus signs and the word Pregnant on them. Just like that, it had been confirmed. A new baby Hale would be coming to Beacon Hills in eight months.

They were excited. Of course, they were. But they couldn’t help the terror that overtook them as well. Bringing a new life into their world was a scary thought. The fact that anyone with knowledge of their child could use them against them was terrifying. Still, they wanted that baby more than anything they had wanted before.

The child that grew inside of (Y/N) was the tangible representation of their love. Evidence that everything life had thrown at them had not been able to push them apart, not for a second. They had been through hell and back, always together, and they had come out of every single occasion stronger than before. That baby was the final piece to their equation.

The next day, they went to the first available OB/GYN about an hour from the town. The doctor confirmed what they already knew, adding the new fact that she was around seven weeks along. The process was more than uncomfortable, but the result was well worth it. A tiny blob appeared on the screen, and the sound of a rapid heartbeat filled their ears. It made tears well up in their eyes. That tiny thing would soon turn into their baby. And even though it didn’t even have a distinguishable shape, they had fallen in love with them.

At first, they thought they would pass the first trimester in bliss. That they would only grow more and more excited as the days passed. And they would have. Had it not been for all the symptoms that overtook (Y/N).

She spent most of her day hunched over the toilet seat, emptying whatever was in her stomach. Even when she thought she could keep food down, an hour or two later, she would be in the bathroom letting it out. And if she wasn’t vomiting, she was ransacked with deep waves of nausea. Then, her breasts started to swell, painful jabs running through her every few days. In addition to heartburn and fatigue, it made her question just how worth it a baby could be.

But Derek had been attentive as ever, if not a little overbearing. He had kept his promise of moving where the meetings were held, claiming that the loft was under renovation while (Y/N) was out of town for a bit. It wasn’t a complete lie, though. He used his downtime to clean up around the house and fix things he had put off for far too long.

He fed her saltine crackers and electrolyte drinks, rubbed her back, and held her hair, and he loved her. Every day and every night, he loved her. Even when he had to stay up cleaning the bathroom or he had to carry her back to bed. He loved her through everything.

“You did this to me,” she had groaned one day. “All I want is to eat chips and pickles, but I can’t keep anything down.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he responded, drawing circles on her back as he cradled her body in the bathroom. “Hopefully, in a week, it’ll subside. You’re almost out of the first trimester, and the morning sickness should get better.”

“Stop reading pregnancy books,” she whined. “By the time this bun is fully baked, you’ll know more than me.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Derek chuckled but swallowed his laughter as (Y/N) gifted him an angry scowl. “Okay, okay. I think the ten books I’ve read will do.”

(Y/N) remained quiet and threw her head against his chest. His arms snaked around her body, a comfort she allowed herself to sink into. The warmth from his body felt nice against her shivering skin. But just his presence was enough to comfort her, regardless of the words she spoke.

“I’m sorry I’ve been snappy these past few days,” she sighed. Her eyes closed as he wrapped his arms tighter around her, her head falling against his chest. “I love this baby, and I love you, but I don’t love puking all the time. And peeing all the time. And being tired all the time. I want to fast forward to the next few months.”

“Hey, you can be snappy with me all you want. I can take it,” he said with a smile. “I will be right here every step of the way because I love you. More than you could ever know.”

“Even when I’m all big and bloated?” (Y/N) chuckled, her hands falling onto the growing small bump. “They're already trying to deform my body.”

“Well, at least you’re glowing.”

“No,” she sighed. “That’s just sweat.”

“Then you look beautiful covered in sweat,” he laughed. “Now, let’s get you to bed. Alright?”

(Y/N) could only nod and wrap her arms around his neck as he carried her back to bed, laying right next to her. Even if he couldn’t take this discomfort away, he was trying his best to make things better for her.

Another week passed, and things started to shift. The woman would only occasionally feel the need to throw up her food, but the constant nausea and heartburn had subsided. And once (Y/N) saw her baby's small fingers and feet in their 12-week ultrasound, she knew it had all been worth it.

She also knew they couldn’t keep the secret to themselves any longer.

The pack had become angsty. Wondering when (Y/N) would be coming back from her supposed trip. Two and a half months was far too long to just be with family. With no imminent danger in sight, they had too much time to check up on everyone else.

“I think it’s time we tell them,” (Y/N) told Derek as they watched a movie. She cradled her small bump, something she had unconsciously started to do. “We’re almost at the five-month mark, and I think it’ll be too hard to hide.”

“Do we really?” he groaned. “I can just keep you hidden here until the nine months are up. They don’t have to know a thing.”

“You would really keep the mother of your child sequestered in these walls until I give birth?”

“Maybe even more,” he shrugged. “Maybe I’ll keep you here forever.”

“You’re quite funny, Mr. Hale,” she chuckled. “But they are our friends —our family. They deserve to know there’s one more person to protect.”

“I’ve just really liked this time,” he sighed. His chin rested on her shoulder, his beard tickling her exposed skin. “You know, just you and me. Basking in the time we won’t have once everyone knows and once the baby is here. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, (Y/N). A family of my own, that I can love and protect. A home that’s ours.”

“And we will have that,” she smiled. “We’re just allowing more love in. The best part, at the end of the day, we can just kick them out.”

“When you put it that way,” he laughed before kissing her lips, savoring her. “Alright, fine. We’ll tell them next Saturday.”

“Thank you, Der. It’s gonna be great.”

And it should have.

Had it not been for the million things that went wrong that week. The A/C was busted for a total of four days, a pipe burst in one of the bathrooms, the paint they had ordered for the nursery had been put on back order, and the Camaro had to be taken into the shop for tuning. Thing after thing occurred, piling onto an already stressful time.

Nevertheless, the week came and went. And before either of them knew it, Saturday had rolled in.

To say (Y/N) was nervous was an understatement. For some reason, anxiety was taking over her body. Its claws dug themselves deep into her being. It made her veins run cold and her heart speed. She didn’t know how any of them would react to the baby. Even to the fact that they had kept it from them for so long. And although Derek tried his best to calm her worries, they had already made a home inside her head.

“God, what if they hate the fact that I’m pregnant?” (Y/N) worried as she laid out more food than necessary on the kitchen counter. “What if they find the idea of bringing a child into a messed up world to be the worst thing ever?”

“Who cares, baby? It’s our child,” Derek tried to reassure. “We are the ones that will be raising them. The ones to protect them. Always and forever.

“But they say it takes a village, Der. And that is one thing that I know is true. I mean, at some point, we will need their help.”

“And you really think we won’t have it,” he said, rounding the kitchen island. His hands traveled her body and, in one swift move, had her sitting on the counter. At eye level, he could stare directly into her glossy eyes. “We have been through everything with these people. Even the ones I hated at the beginning have become my closest friends. I’m 100% sure they’ll be thrilled that you’re pregnant.”

He snaked his hand to her chin, pulling her down for a soft kiss. But once their lips made contact, it was too much of a temptation to keep it chaste. Soon enough, their tongues danced together, and their hands pulled each other closer. It left them breathless and excited, wanting —needing more.

“Uh, we can come back if it’s a bad time,” Stiles’ voice rang through the apartment, startling them apart. “But you guys did invite us here. So, it’s kind of bad on you guys.”

“No. Yes! I mean, it’s not a bad time,” (Y/N) chuckled as she jumped off the counter, hiding her stomach with a comically large bowl. “We just got carried away, I guess.”

“The one day they decide to show up on time,” Derek grumbled under his breath. “Come in, why don’t you?”

Before they knew it, the apartment was filled with werewolves, a banshee, other werehumans and supernatural beings, and their very own abominable snowman. The couple remained in the kitchen as everyone situated themselves, whispering under their breath what the best way to go about it would be.

“Not to be pushy,” Peter called out. “But if you guys only called us over for some food, I have better things to do than hang around children all day.”

“You do know we’re all well above the age of eighteen, right?” Isaac retorted. “It’s been quite some time since we have been children.”

“You’re still younger than me, correct?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Then children,” he said. “So, what is it? Am I staying, or am I leaving?”

“Settle down, Peter,” Derek responded, biting back the urge to roll his eyes. “We do have something important to announce to everyone and would very much appreciate it if you just listen.”

“Fine,” he frowned. “But you have ten minutes of my time before I decide to leave.”

“All we need is a couple of seconds, really,” (Y/N) said with a smile on her face so sweet no one dared say anything else. “I’m sure you heard that I was away for a while and that we were undergoing renovations here. Which, as you can tell by the lack of changes, was not true. Derek lied on my behalf and moved any necessary meetings out of our home because I needed this time to myself as I underwent a sort of change in my life.”

“Oh my god, you’re dying,” Stiles worried. “Is it cancer? Is it at least treatable?”

“It’s nothing like that, Stiles,” she reassured with a soft chuckle. “But thank you for worrying. It’s just as life-changing but not necessarily life-threatening. At least, I’m hoping it’s not. But you could never be sure until…”

“(Y/N), you’re rambling,” Derek whispered in her ear. “It’s nothing bad.”

“You’re pregnant!” Lydia exclaimed, a bright smile adorning her face.

“How would you know that?” Malia questioned. “I thought you predicted death, not new life.”

“It’s common sense,” she shrugged, disregarding the comment. “She’s been hiding for months. The place smells like paint, and nothing in this room is painted, so I can only assume it’s a bedroom. And she hasn’t stepped out from behind the island that just so happens to cover her stomach. Two and two always makes four.”

“Except on this occasion, it made three,” (Y/N) chuckled. She walked around the counter and joined Derek’s side, her bump finally on display for everyone to see. “But, yes, Lydia, I am pregnant. Almost five months now.”

A shower of ‘holy crap’s and ‘oh my god’s rained over them as, one by one, the pack got to their feet and hugged the couple in congratulations. They rejoiced together and started planning how to spoil little baby Hale even before they were born. Every single person was as excited and overjoyed as Derek and (Y/N) were, anxious for when the baby was born.

Well, except Peter.

“Yeah, next time you have these kinds of news, little nephew, make sure to make it an email,” he grumbled, looking at his watch. “Can’t believe I canceled evening plans for a pregnancy announcement.”

“We love you too, Peter,” (Y/N) laughed. “Maybe if you leave now, you can still make it to whatever it is that you had planned.”

“I’m already here,” he shrugged as he sat back down on the sofa. “Might as well take advantage of the free food.”

“Ignore him,” Derek told her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “He can’t take this moment away from us. It’s all ours.”

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months

Text

1968 [Chapter 8: Demeter, Goddess Of The Harvest]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Is it a story worth telling? I think so. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than watching raindrops slither down the cracked concrete walls until the prison guards come back to bloody us again.

Today I’m sending John McCain taps in the shape of the tale of Io. John has a hard time tapping back—they’re doing something to his shoulders, they’re destroying him—but he likes to listen. He’s getting it a lot worse than I am; perhaps even the North Vietnamese fear Aemond’s retribution if I die here. They should be afraid of him. He thinks he owns everything he touches, and he’ll snap bones to keep it.

So anyway, Io was a king’s daughter, a mortal who Zeus saw and wanted and took when her father kicked her out to avoid the god’s wrath. That’s easily half of Greek mythology, right? Zeus appears, irrevocably fucks up someone’s life, vanishes in a plume of clouds and thunder. He leaves human rubble behind him: ribs, nerves, disembodied hearts that leak blood from torn ventricles, minds broken in two. Zeus impregnated Io and then turned her into a cow to hide her from his wife Hera, ever-watchful, ever-vengeful, an aspiring mass murderess. When this disguise failed, Hera condemned Io to wander ceaselessly through the wilderness, tormented by the constant stinging of a gadfly. Eventually, Zeus returns Io to human form and she pops out a few bastard kids, as if Zeus needs any more of those. Then he ditches her and she marries some Egyptian dude. There are other details that I’ve forgotten. I don’t think John McCain will know the difference.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I acquired all this fabled trivia. I don’t seem like the type to lie around under trees reading folklore from religions that died thousands of years ago. You’re right, I’m not. But Aemond is. He would tell the stories, and Helaena would embroider scenes on quilts for us to burrow under in the winter, and I would dramatically act out the best parts (mostly murders), and Aegon would scribble comics in jagged black pen strokes. He has all these notebooks down in the basement filled with his new versions of ancient myths: Poseidon as a horny dolphin, Aphrodite as Marilyn Monroe.

Wait, I remember what I skipped. While Io was roaming across the globe, she bumped into Prometheus—chained to a rock for giving humans the gift of fire—and he cheered her up somehow. I guess meeting a guy who gets his liver continuously chewed out by a giant eagle would make me more appreciative of my circumstances too.

I have a lot of time to myself here in solitary confinement. My social circle is microscopic. I tap to John through the wall, I have dinner dates with Tessarion the rat. And I think about my family. They’re fucked up, but I miss them. I miss going to Monmouth Park with Fosco to bet on horse races, I miss getting hammered with Aegon while he sings Johnny Cash or Beatles songs. I miss my mother and Helaena and Criston. I even miss Aemond’s wife, though I only met her a few times before I deployed. She’s sharp, she’s hilarious. She’s mean as hell to Aegon, and sometimes he deserves it.

At first I wondered why Aemond hasn’t gotten me out yet, but I understand now. It sounds a lot better to have a brother being tortured as a prisoner of war than one who received a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It’s the kind of thing Aemond would consider. He understands which stories are worth telling.

I feel kind of bad for her. Aemond’s wife, I mean.

I don’t think she knows about Alys.

~~~~~~~~~~

On a chilly mid-September morning cloaked in fog, Mimi is laid to rest in the Targaryen family mausoleum at Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Most of the golden plaques already have names chiseled into them: Viserys and Alicent, Fosco and Helaena. Aegon will one day be interred beside his wife. You have a spot reserved next to Aemond. All of you have already lived and died and been entombed; all of this was predestined by the stars eons before you had blood or bones.

Ari’s vault—an unnaturally tiny drawer, less than half the size of anyone else’s—is located just above yours. You can’t stop staring at it. You can’t hear anything the bearded priest in his black robes is chanting. Then Cosmo squeezes your hand and you look down at him. Mimi’s other children are somber but seem to be coping well enough—they are used to being raised by consensus, they would probably be more affected if one of the nannies died—but Cosmo always wants to be near you. He gazes up with those vast, wet, murky blue eyes, so much like Aegon’s, and you offer him a sad, reassuring smile. Cosmo smiles back. And you think: Life goes on.

Alicent is sniffling noisily; it echoes off the walls of the mausoleum. Criston—a man with no plaque assigned to him—is trying to console her. Aegon is watching you from across the cold granite chamber, grim and red-eyed in his black suit, the first time you can remember seeing him in one since your wedding. He wears no small gold hoops, only a row of stitches in his right ear. He wants to say something, to do something, but he can’t. Aemond is beside you, a hand heavy on your waist but muttering something to Otto. Back in Omaha, Otto had spent a few hours alone with the medical examiner, and when the death certificate was issued it revealed that Mimi died of a heart defect, a perfectly blameless sort of misfortune, an innate impending disaster. And so that’s what the newspapers printed, and any gossip to the contrary is confined to salacious rumors, untrustworthy and unproven.

When the ceremony is over, journalists are waiting to scavenge for photos and quotes under the guise of expressing their sympathies. It’s a shameless display, though they at least have the decency to wait by the cemetery gates. Aemond and Otto go to meet them. Alicent, Criston, Helaena, and Fosco, protective of the children, keep them far away from the feeding frenzy, hungry-eyed reporters like sharks without fins. Ludwika is reapplying her lipstick. Aegon is smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to his oldest son, Orion, a stilted exchange that holds the promise of turning warm with time.

You sit on a stone bench and Cosmo curls up beside you, rests his head in your lap, dozes off as you thread your fingers through his wavy blonde hair. In the mist there are shadows of gravestones and trees that turn skeletal as they shed their leaves.

“He is okay?” Fosco says as he ambles over, meaning Cosmo. He has his hands in the pockets of his slim black trousers that stop at his ankles. His suit is velvet, his eyeglasses speckled with drizzle from the slate-grey sky.

“He’s alright. He’s resting. Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Fosco sighs mournfully. “I keep thinking someone is missing. We came into this family together, Mimi and I. We got married six months apart. I have never had to do this without her. And I know she had her problems, but she was different when she was younger. She always liked a party, that’s why she and Aegon got along so well at first. But she was so loud and so funny, always telling these long stories, and everyone in the room would be grinning as they waited for the good part. Viserys loved her. Otto loved her. And then she had all those children one after the other, and that was hard, and Aegon self-destructed when he was the mayor of Trenton, and that was worse, and she was supposed to fix him and she couldn’t, the harder she tried the farther he ran from her. She started drinking her Gimlets before dinner, and then after lunch, and by the time you showed up it was never ending. But that wasn’t who she really was. She was like a moon that got smaller and smaller until the only thing left was a sliver.”

This family breaks people. This family kills people. “We’ll make ossi dei morti for Mimi tonight. I’ll help you, and we can teach the kids.”

Fosco smiles, swipes a tear from beneath his glasses, squeezes your shoulder with one wiry hand. “I am very glad you are still here.”

“I’m not trying to race you to that mausoleum.”

Fosco laughs. And then he says as he spies Aegon approaching: “Um…I will go avoid the paparazzi somewhere else.”

“You don’t have to leave, Fosco.”

“It is no trouble. And I suspect you enjoy your very rare privacy.” Fosco gives you a knowing glace and then heads back to where Helaena, Alicent, and Criston are lingering with the rest of the children. Now Ludwika is fluffing her blonde curls with her French tips, a smoldering Camel cigarette tucked between two fingers.

Aegon comes to you through the mist, plops onto the bench, and looks fondly down at Cosmo—now fast asleep, his face smooth and peaceful—before he speaks. “I can’t grasp that she’s really gone. We barely spoke for years, but she was always there, you know? Christ, she deserved better than this. She could have been happy somewhere else.”

“Your children need you.” It’s not the first time you’ve said it, but it’s the first time he believes you. He nods, staring out into the fog. “They have to get away from this whole circus for a while. And you have to learn how to be a real parent.”

“I’ll have time to work on it. I’m staying here. I’ve already been informed.”

You are alarmed. “What? By who?”

“Aemond and Otto.” Aegon says. “When the rest of you fly west, my kids and I will be at Asteria.”

“They’re getting you off the campaign trail,” you realize.

“They’re putting me on house arrest.”

Not seeing Aegon, not being near him? How long can I stand that? “I’m sure you’re relieved. You hate the grandstanding and the media.”

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I have Fosco and Ludwika.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that they need to look out for you.”

“Aegon, I’ve been doing the political wife thing for over two years.”

“But it’s different now.”

He’s right, it is.

“You’ll call, won’t you?” he asks. “You’ll let me know how the trip is going, you’ll tell me if anything bad happens? Because I can always get on a plane and meet you wherever you are. Otto might pay someone to murder me, but I’d risk it.”

“Of course I’ll call.”

“Hey.” Gently, he turns your face so you can’t hide from him. “Will you be okay without me?”

I have to be. I don’t have a choice. Instead you reply: “I’ll miss the weed.”

The tension breaks and Aegon smiles, and then he pats your cheek twice with his open palm. “Behave yourself.” He waves Ludwika over, interrupting her meditative chain smoking.

“What, what?” Ludwika says. “Are we leaving soon? Yes, it is so sad what happened to Mimi, but us standing around in the rain won’t resurrect her. And I look terrible in black.”

“I can’t be there for the last leg of the campaign.” Aegon points to you. “I need you to pay attention and check in with her at least a few times a day.”

“This is a common request. I should get a degree in it so I can charge people.”

Aegon furrows his brow at her. “What are you talking about?”

Ludwika smirks as she puffs on her Camel. “You are not the first person to ask me to keep an eye on her.” She nods subtly towards Aemond, then sashays off to give a quote to the journalists.

~~~~~~~~~~

In San Diego, Aemond meets with residents of a new public housing complex to hear their concerns about neighborhood jobs and infrastructure. In San Jose, he visits labor activist Caesar Chavez—being treated for debilitating back pain at O’Connor Hospital—and expresses support for the ongoing boycott of all grapes produced in the state. In Sacramento, he attends a Jimi Hendrix concert and receives a standing ovation from the audience; the next day he joins high school students protesting for a more inclusive curriculum. In Oregon, he makes a speech at Portland State University acknowledging the tremendous cost of the Vietnam War—in money, in time, in blood—and pledges to begin dismantling U.S. involvement as soon as he is sworn into office in January. Aemond talks about hope and despair, the bleak reality and the American Dream, and he is so overwhelmed by the crowd that he doesn’t even notice when someone takes his cufflinks as souvenirs. His lack of concern for his own safety exasperates Criston, but Aemond can’t be convinced to increase his security or his distance. If he expects the disaffected masses to carry him to the White House, he has to be real to them.

“What if another Wallace supporter tries to shoot you?” Criston demands. “What if a Nixon stooge stabs you or a crowd tramples you?”

“No one can kill me,” Aemond says, grinning wryly. “I’m not supposed to die yet. I’m supposed to be the president. It is God’s will.” And how can anybody disagree when that appears to be so true?

The earth dies as you drive north, summer withering into autumn. That familiar brisk cuttingness reappears in the air. You shake thousands of hands, smile for countless photographs. Mothers and wives of dead soldiers sob into your shoulder as you embrace them; teenage girls ask how they can get a good man like Aemond. Only one thing is missing from his glorious pilgrimage: something he wants desperately, something he cannot have (though he’ll never know why), you conceiving his child in time to announce it before Election Day. Each morning you sneak a pill and every night you bite the bullet. As often as you can, you duck into Dairy Queens to order lemon-lime Mr. Mistys.

George Wallace is in the South, galvanizing segregationists and accepting the endorsement of the Ku Klux Klan. Richard Nixon is working his way across the Midwest. He has chosen a politically moderate Greek as a running mate, Spiro Agnew; this does not strike you as a coincidence. He even shares a name with Aegon’s second son.

Nixon promises “peace with honor” in Vietnam, which means no immediate end to the draft. He makes speeches about “states’ rights” and “law and order,” ambiguous euphemisms designed to attract Wallace’s white supremacists without alienating too many suburban moderates. He commiserates with those lamenting the proliferation of sex, drugs, and divorce. He says he will return the nation to a more moral time. You wonder what he means. You can’t think of any such refuge in the bloodletting, spine-crushing history of mankind.

A kindergarten teacher tells you in Olympia, Washington, her eyes alight with reverence usually reserved for heroes, saints, gods: “People are voting for Aemond, but they’re voting for you too.”

And you find yourself thinking as a thousand miles roll by beyond the glass of limousine windows: How many people will I condemn if I don’t help Aemond win? How many lives is mine worth?

~~~~~~~~~~

The Hotel Sorrento in Seattle insists on giving you and Aemond the honeymoon suite: a retreat from the breakneck campaign, a romantic oasis for the future president and first lady…according to half the country, anyway. You are in the impractically large pink bathtub, surrounded by snowy dunes of bubbles. The wall to your right is a mirror, foggy around the edges; just a few yards to your left is the king-sized bed. In the top drawer of your nightstand is the card Aegon gave you in July. You aren’t sure where Aemond is, and you don’t especially care. You are relieved to be alone.

There’s a passion-red phone built into the rim of the tub, conveniently located for sudden room service revelations, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, steak and lobster. You have a different idea. It’s 7:15 p.m. here, so after 10 on the East Coast. On the steam-slick keypad, you dial the number for the main house at Asteria.

Eudoxia picks up and demands gruffly: “Geiá sou? Ti?”

“Hi, Doxie. Is Aegon around?”

“Where else would he be? Making himself useful somehow? Killing communists, driving a rocket to the moon? No. He is a burden as always.”

“Please be nice to him. His wife just died.”

“And so he cannot put his empty cups in the sink?” Without waiting for a reply, she sets the handset down on the kitchen counter with a clunk. There is distant, muffled shouting in Greek; she seems to back and forth with somebody. Then Eudoxia returns. “Antio sas,” she says, and hangs up just as a phone elsewhere in the house is lifted from its cradle.

Aegon answers with something halfway between a groan and a yawn. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey!” You can hear it riding the wire like electricity: a rustling as he sits up, a fresh clarity in his skull. His voice is deep, hushed, still husky with sleep. “What’s up, little Io? Any interesting happenings to report from your neighborhood of the solar system?”

“I just left a riveting tea party. Apple cinnamon scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. We talked about what kind of couches I should get for the White House and I wanted to kill myself. Are the kids okay?”

He’s smiling; you can tell. “They’re alright. I could have used you this afternoon. I was trying to help Spiro with his math homework. Trying, not succeeding.”

“Well he’s in middle school and thus beyond your skill.”

“How’s Jupiter?”

You know who he means. “I don’t want to talk about Aemond.”

“Okay.” Aegon says, curious. “So what should we talk about?”

A few seconds tick by, silent and perilous. “Where are you right now?”

“In my lair. Like a beast.”

“Alone?”

A transitory pause. “At the moment.”

“On the shag carpet or your futon?”

Now he’s very intrigued. “Futon. Why?”

“I just want a visual.” Beneath the water, your free hand is resting on the velvety inside of your thigh.

“Where are you?” Aegon asks.

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Maybe I want a visual too.”

You chuckle, peeking over at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is dewy with steam; stray wisps of hair stick to your face. “I’m in a gigantic pink bathtub. It’s ridiculous, it’s shaped like a heart and everything. They have a phone installed right here in case I find myself in desperate need of filet mignon.”

“Oh.” And then he hesitates, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “Big enough for two?”

“More like five. You should get a tub like this for your basement, it would delight the campaign staffers.”

“My basement’s been pretty empty recently.”

Softly, vulnerably, glass offered for him to shatter: “You aren’t seeing other girls?”

“Nah, babe. I want something they can’t give me.”

You picture him, messy hair falling over his forehead, drowsy eyes that gleam with clandestine wisdom. You can smell the smoke and rum that bleeds from his skin. “I wish you were here.”

“In Seattle?”

“No. Right here.”

Aegon exhales shakily, swallows, takes a few seconds to collect himself. “How’s the water?”

“Extremely hot and full of bubbles.”

“So I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

“No,” you say, baiting him.

“But I could touch you.”

“You already have.”

“Not enough,” he murmurs. “Nowhere close to enough.”

“Do you remember what I felt like?”

“Oh God,” he whispers, and you envision him closing his eyes, rubbing his face with the open palm of his left hand. “Yeah. Of course I do. I can’t get it out of my head. But I’ve been trying not to…you know…it felt wrong to think about you that way unless you were cool with it. Like I was betraying your trust or taking advantage of you or something.”

“No, I want you to think about me.”

You can hear Aegon moving around on the green futon, repositioning himself, yanking down a zipper. When he speaks again, his breathing is quick and jagged. “Where’s your other hand, huh?”

“Under the water,” you reply coyly.

“You bitch,” he says, laughing. “I miss you so fucking much. The house isn’t right without you in it. You belong here, you belong where I am.”

Beneath the veil of bubbles and steam, there is no scar on your belly, no infidelity, no campaign, no distance of almost 3,000 miles separating you and Aegon. Your fingers slip between your legs, finding slickness the water can’t wash away. It’s a familiar sensation, though you haven’t felt it in a while: rising steadily until you hit a plateau like a jet reaching cruising altitude. From here, it will either glide along smoothly until it dies out, or eventually turn sharp and painful. “Tell me about you,” you pant.

He can hear it in your voice, a needful surrender that sets him on fire. He can’t believe this is happening; he never wants it to end. “I mean, I’m…I’m insanely hard.”

“Stroke yourself, imagine it’s me. I wish it could be me.”

“Oh fuck,” Aegon whimpers. “Okay, okay…I want you. I want you with my fingers, I want you with my tongue, I want you to beg for it, and then…”

Impossibly, incomparably, your own pleasure is climbing faster than you can reconcile yourself to it, no longer a hunger but a violent aching, a crushing gravity you can’t fight against, a ship being dragged to the floor of the ocean. What’s happening? When will it end? You moan into the phone, amazed yet petrified. You can’t get enough air; it feels like drowning, like dying.

“I need to see you,” Aegon says. He’s close to the climax that you know men experience, he has to be; he’s gasping. “I need to be with you, let me give you what you want.”

“I want you to finish inside me.”

“Io…babe…oh my God, you’re gonna kill me…”

There are sounds out in the front room of the suite: a lock clicking, footsteps, keys and a wallet tossed onto the kitchenette counter. You’re so consumed you almost don’t notice. Aemond is back. Aemond is back!! And every ion of your ascending euphoria evaporates. “Gotta go, bye.”

“Wait—!”

You hang up just as Aemond is opening the bedroom door. He walks in—immaculately tailored dark blue suit, polished black leather shoes trampling soft pink carpet—and turns to you. He has already taken his glass eye out and put on his eyepatch. Vaguely, fleetingly, you wonder where he’s been. His gaze darts to the red phone, your fingerprints in the condensation. “Who were you talking to?”

“My parents.”

If Aemond doubts this, he doesn’t show it. He crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bathtub, peers down at you with an omniscient metallic glint in his eye. He’s always been less a man than a force of nature. “I know this year has been hell.”

You envision Persephone being stolen by Hades, Orpheus searching for his dead wife Eurydice, Charon ferrying souls across the River Styx. “You haven’t made it easier.”

There’s a flash of something in his scarred face, blazing and instantaneous like lightning, and then it fades. He reaches out to touch your hair, swept up and neatly bound with clips and pins. “We can’t forget everything we’ve accomplished together,” Aemond says. “I still need you. You’re my Aphrodite.”

He’s going to tell you to get out of the tub, to lie down on the bed, to open yourself so he can fill you. You distract him, forestalling the inevitable. Each morning Prometheus dreads the return of the eagle that pecks out his liver; as every summer ends Demeter mourns the loss of Persephone. “Any luck with Nixon?”

Aemond sighs, furious, brooding. “He still won’t agree to a debate. Wallace is onboard, he’s rabid for it, he’d show up if we held it in the fucking asteroid belt, any opportunity to spew his idiocy. But not Nixon.”

“Because he knows standing on the same stage as you can only hurt him. People thought he looked bad in 1960, can you imagine now? Television has gotten so much clearer. They’ll be able to count his sweat drops from their living room couches.”

“So how do I get him to do it?”

You look up at Aemond. It’s not a hypothetical question; he’s really asking for advice.

“I have to debate Nixon,” Aemond insists. “It’s close in the polls, which means it will be even closer on Election Day. I’ll underperform whatever is projected, my coalition is less likely to show up when it counts. College kids, hippies, transients. That’s just a fact. But the old people vote. The suburban housewives vote. Nixon’s resting on his political experience and accusations that I’m a communist, an agent of chaos. But I could slaughter him in an hour on ABC.”

You think of the mutilated Vietnam veterans waving their signs and screaming at LBJ from the other side of the wrought-iron gates of the White House. “Challenge him in public. Say that the American people deserve to see the candidates debate, and do it where everyone can hear you.”

“What if Nixon still refuses?”

“Then you call him a coward. You say he must have something to hide. You ask how he’s supposed to square up with the Russians and the Chinese if he can’t even face you.”

Aemond grins admiringly. “You’re vicious.” And he lifts your hand from the rim of the tub so he can kiss your knuckles. Once you licked up drops of his approval like Tantalus, cursed with eternal thirst. Now it is poison that turns your veins black.

“If there’s a debate, everyone should go,” you say, seized by sudden inspiration. “We should have a united front, including Aegon. It can be his return to the public eye. A month will have passed since the funeral, the timing is right. He can pose for a few photos with the kids to show the nation that they’re doing well and distract from any lingering rumors about Mimi.”

Aemond isn’t grinning anymore. He’s studying you with his cold blue gaze; no, he’s trying to intimidate you, to overpower you. “Otto and I will decide what to do with him.”

“He’s a Targaryen. He should be with the rest of us.”

Aemond stands and motions for you to follow, a snap of his wrist like a man calling a dog. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

Panic, tension, an iron sinking in your belly. The water is only lukewarm now, but you don’t want to leave it. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yes you are.”

There’s nothing else to say. Legally, a wife’s flesh is one with her husband’s. You slip as you step out of the bathtub, and Aemond grabs your forearm. Not like he’s helping you; like you’re something he owns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two knocks, swift and forceful. “Hey, it’s me. You ready? Everyone else is downstairs in the lobby waiting for the limos.”

You hurry to open the door, almost twisting your ankle as you stumble in your heels. They’re an inch higher than what you’re used to. Aemond chose them, and your dress too, and your sapphire teardrop earrings, and the silver chains around your wrist and throat, and your future and your past, and your life itself. It’s mid-October, and the night of what will almost certainly be the sole presidential debate of 1968. Aemond’s retinue is staying at the Hotel Saint Louis. It’s harvest time, the fields beyond the city being reaped of their soybeans, wheat, corn, cotton, and rice, the beef cattle culled in mechanical underworlds. Aegon’s flight must have just landed.

As soon as he sees you his eyes drop, wide and bewitched, ensnared everywhere except your face. You say: “Can you help me zip this, please?”

He blinks a few times, then shakes it off. “Sorry, what?”

“The zipper’s stuck. I need you to get it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He steps into the suite and stands behind you. The gown is a vivid blue like the Greek flag, gorgeous and shimmering but a size too small. It wasn’t tight a week ago, but now it is, and you aren’t pregnant just always gaining and losing weight in new places, first the baby and then the pill, and it wouldn’t bother you if Aemond didn’t seem so confounded by it. Aegon says as he tugs at the zipper: “I don’t think it’s gonna fit, babe.”

“It has to fit.”

“Even if I miraculously get this closed, you won’t be able to breathe.”

“Do whatever you have to. Just…just…” You push every last molecule of air out of your lungs, suck in your belly, and you hear the triumphant squeal of the zipper. “Yes!” Oh, but Aegon was right: you really can’t breathe. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“You’re not gonna last the whole debate in that. You’ll be sweating more than Nixon.”

“I’m fine.”

“Io…”

“I’m fine. Come on.” You snatch your matching purse off the coffee table by the couch, check your makeup one last time, and hobble in your heels as you walk with Aegon out into the hallway.

At the Kiel Auditorium a few blocks away, the Targaryen children—Aegon’s five and Helaena’s three—are presented for photographs before being escorted back to the hotel by the nannies. And even in the few weeks that have passed since you last saw Aegon’s kids, there have been extraordinary changes. They talk to their father, and he talks back, and he ruffles their hair and rests his hands on their shoulders and asks them about what they’re learning from their private tutors. Cosmo tackles you before he leaves—a powerful bear hug, though he can only reach your legs—and he says he hopes you’re coming home to Asteria soon.

“Me too, kiddo,” Aegon tells him, and then smiles at you; but above his gleam of teeth his cloudy blue eyes, like the Atlantic in a storm, are gloomy and troubled.

As the audience takes their seats and the journalists are poised to capture the best images and quotes of the night, the three candidates and their wives (minus Wallace’s dear departed Lurleen) meet briefly backstage to exchange the perfunctory well-wishes. Pat Nixon is introverted and bookish, though she tries to hide it; but Aemond reels her in like swordfish until her eyes are filled with him. George Wallace gets one glimpse of your venomous glare and escapes, claiming to need one last trip to the restroom before the debate begins. But Richard Nixon beckons you to accompany him to a quiet, discrete corner of the room.

“I tried to call,” he says. He’s a remarkably normal man: medium height, receding dark hair, rough voice, weathered skin, not a god but a mortal, and—you have the impression—more aware of his flaws than his fiercest critics will ever be. “But no one at that damned beach house would ever put me through to you.”

You aren’t sure what he means. “Oh?”

“I never got the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was for your loss in July, Mrs. Targaryen,” Nixon says with unglamorous, plain, genuine compassion. “Pat and I, when we heard, we wept for you. We truly did. And for your husband to be clear across the country…I can’t even imagine. It must have been awful for you. A parent never gets over something like that. It stays with you like a scar.”

“It does,” you say softly.

“I lost two brothers. Arthur died when he was seven, tuberculosis killed Harold in his twenties. God, it just about destroyed my mother. You’re a remarkable woman. You’re lightning in a bottle for Aemond, do you know that? You’re like one of those Kennedy gals, but even better. More personable than Jackie. More intelligent than Ethel…although, to be frank, who wouldn’t be? And you’re not afflicted with any ghastly vices like Ted’s wife Joan. What would Aemond do without you? He’d lose, that’s what he’d do.”

Nixon’s smart, but he’s wounded. He’s capable, but he’s so desperate to prove it. Power could ruin a man like this. “You’re very kind, sir. You did some great work under Eisenhower. Self-made like my father was, a devotee of the American Dream. I believe you have an important role to play in this country…” You smirk, a bit mischievously. “Just not as the president.”

Nixon chortles. “No matter what happens tonight, rest assured that I hate Reagan more than I could ever dislike your husband,” he says, meaning the Republican governor of his home state of California. “You know that bastard tried to primary me?”

“Actors don’t belong in politics.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nixon says, and then bids you farewell as the lights turn blinding and the curtain begins to rise.

As soon as the adrenaline begins to fade, all you can think about is that you can’t breathe. You take your seat in the audience between Aegon and Ludwika, who won’t stop making jabs about Nixon: “He looks like a troll,” “He looks like a sasquatch,” “Do you think Pat makes him wear a Creature from the Black Lagoon mask in bed so she is not so repulsed by him?” The most you can offer is an occasional distracted nod in response.

“You alright?” Aegon whispers.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look alright.”

“I’m great.”

“Sure,” he says, and he acts like he’s teasing, but there’s something tremendously sad underneath. He can’t save you from this. He can’t save you from anything. What must that feel like?

On the debate stage—broadcast to a national audience—Aemond performs brilliantly. Nixon salvages what could have been a bloodbath with a handful of clever retorts that Aemond pretends not to be rattled by. The real loser of the night is Wallace, who is brutally attacked by them both: Nixon because Wallace is commandeering some of his voting bloc, and Aemond because of his near-assassination back in May. After an hour, the contest concludes and the candidates descend to the main floor to pose for photos and get lassoed into brief interviews with various journalists. Everyone in Aemond’s entourage besides you and Aegon flock to his side. By now you’re gasping in shallow gulps, close to tears and in agony from your ribs to your wobbling feet.

“I told you,” Aegon says. And then: “Come on. We’ll take the first limo back.”

In the front room of your hotel suite—one yellowish end table lamp glowing dimly, the rest of the space like twilight—Aegon wrestles with the zipper as you struggle for every breath, trying not to pass out. “Ow,” you whine. “Oh fuck, this was so stupid…”

“Don’t let him make you wear shit you don’t want to wear.”

“I have to do what he says, Aegon.”

“He doesn’t own you.”

“Legally, he does.”

He’s tugging futilely at the jammed zipper. “Are you planning on using this again?”

“I believe that would be wistful thinking.”

“You probably look better out of it anyway.” He grabs his Zippo lighter from the pocket of his emerald green suit jacket and flicks it to life. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Got it.”

You can feel heat, intense but not painful. Aegon has pulled the edge of the fabric as far away as he can from your skin and is singeing it until it turns black and charred and brittle. Then he tucks the lighter back into his pocket and with both hands rips your dress down to the small of your back. Cool air rushes to meet the ridge of your spine; goosebumps prickle all over. Aegon is marveling at you; you can see it when you glance over your shoulder at him. Then he lays a palm against your bare skin, leans into you, inhales everything you’ve ever been: smoke and sex and starlight, strategies, shadows, secrets.

The others will be pouring into the hallway from the elevator any minute. Aemond. Aemond could find us.

“We can’t,” you whisper, hating yourself for it.

Aegon kisses the nape of your neck—so slow, so kind—and then goes to the doorway. You wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He’s looking at you as you hold up the ruined gown so it covers your belly and your chest. You gaze back helplessly, wanting him, needing him, a moon chained to another world’s gravity.

We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

And only then does Aegon vanish.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x you #aegon x y/n

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lurkingshan · 1 month

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Japanese QL Corner

One show ends this week, but there are several more on the way, including a surprising adaptation. Of the six shows airing now, five are streaming weekly on Gaga and the other is available via fansub.

Takara's Treasure

I. LOVE. THEM. Their little bird watching date was precious and I loved every moment of it, including Taishin's adorable outfit and over preparedness, Takara's secret smiles, and the patient search for the wallet. I was so relieved that Taishin named his fears about them not being suited upfront instead of letting it grow into a huge anxiety in his own head, and I was also happy Takara was eager to speak with him about his impending relocation. That said, NOOOOOOOO I don't want a forced separation and time skip, show. Please I am begging.

Cosmetic Playlover

This was my favorite week for this show by far, because they actually let us see the relationship at its center! I enjoyed finally spending some time with these two as a couple, though I still find the timing and sequencing of these plots confusing as hell. Last week Sahashi gave Mamiya keys to his place and it was implied they'd been dating for quite awhile and were already serious, but this week we learn Mamiya has never spent the night and they are only just having sex for the first time. It was a real record scratch for me; I can't get my bearings in this relationship trajectory with all the gaps in the story. But hey, at least they finally let them make out a little! For a show that sold itself as toxic sexy, there has been very little toxicity or sex, tbh.

I Hear the Sunspot

*rubs temples* This show is really testing my patience. I got excited last week when Kohei and Taichi finally had a real conversation and it seemed like we were moving forward, but this week we're back to treading water. This story did not need 12 episodes; this pacing, while faithful to the manga as I understand it, does not work well for weekly live action. It's been weeks since we've learned anything new about these characters or advanced the central relationship, and the show continues to stumble with its confused depiction of Maya. I just want this show to pull together and finish strong, because I think a lot of this will be much more tolerable on a binge watch. For now I will just gaze at Kohei's beautiful smiling face and hope for a full recovery.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

I said last week that the show had gotten so muddled I didn't think they'd be able to end well, and even with those very low expectations this finale still managed to get underneath them. The last several episodes made a mess of the characters, the conflict, and the themes of the show, and to add insult to injury, they capped it all off with angle kisses, a time skip, and a bizarre sex negative ending that had our "boob monster" adult lesbian refusing to have sex with her girlfriend for over a year so she could "cherish" her before randomly kissing her at the office as if that was the important resolution we'd been waiting for. A truly horrid ending that ruined everything this show did so well in its early episodes. I don't understand!! Big sigh and fingers crossed for a decent sexy gl sometime in the near future.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

I've just been beaming and staring into space for the last several minutes after finishing this episode. No matter what else happens in the shows, I love knowing I am always going to end my week in jql on a good note while this gem is airing. This week marked a transition point for Ishida and Mitsuya, as Ishida had a great conversation with Noguchi, found a new passion and put in for a job transfer, and had his final meeting and meal with Mitsuya as writer and editor. Which they immediately followed with a date and mutual acknowledgment of the feelings between them! And what a fantastic date it was, with every moment so invigorating and wonderfully adult. Mitsuya's quiet confidence and amusement at Ishida's nerves, Ishida's clarity on how he wants Mitsuya to see him, the mutual compliments and gestures and smiles and eye contact, ahhhhhhhhh. I also loved that Ishida got to be the one to show Mitsuya something new at the end, to get him to run with joy for the first time in ages and introduce him to a new food. I am so excited to see their dating era begin in earnest. You can find the episode with subtitles courtesy of @isaksbestpillow here.

Tagging @bengiyo to add this week's anime update.

#japanese ql corner #takara no vidro #takara's treasure #i hear the sunspot #hidamari ga kikoeru #ayaka is in love with hiroko #mr mitsuya's planned feeding #cosmetic playlover #mitsuya sensei no keikakutekina ezuke #twilight out of focus #japanese bl #japanese gl #shan shouts into the void

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vanesycho · 26 days

Note

The chenle one has woken up smth in me so idk...Can you write smth w older Jisung where the reader cannot find her peace w boys her age until she meets jisung which is the "wattpad" kind of older man (ifykwim) caring and basically knows how to give reader the comfort that she needs

hi hii🤍 I would like to thank the person who wrote the request, I am not very satisfied with what I wrote, but I hope I was able to write something as you wanted<3

wc: 1,8k

You left the bar crying, your girlfriend was trying to catch up to you, you ignored her even when she called your name.

"Y/n stop! Stop!"

She caught up to you and grabbed your arm, turning you towards her, you didn't let her when she tried to hug you.

"You called me here even though you knew that boy had bad intentions."

"I swear I didn't know, would I have called you here if I knew he would touch you without your permission?"

You laughed hysterically through your tears.

"Really? Fuck it, I'm going home."

You couldn't stand listening to her anymore.You quickly left there and started walking home. Continued walking down the deserted street while crying, cursing everything, your friend, that boy, yourself. While you thought he was a different person again, he turned out to be no different from the other boys, they were all the same, each and every one of them.They would use you for their body, and if you didn't let them, they would throw you in the corner.

You were falling onto the pavement, tripping as you could barely see through your tears, until someone grabbed you by the arms. You looked up and saw a tall figure, the streetlight illuminating his face.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded, you didn't feel okay but did it matter? You freed yourself from his arms and regained your balance.

"I am good, thanks."

You were about to walk past him when you heard his voice again and stopped in your tracks.

"It might not be a good idea to pass through that street at this time of night."

You turned around, he was watching you with his hands in his pockets, you laughed hysterically.

"Anyway, what worse could happen to me today?"

He bowed his head slightly and walked a few steps towards you. You didn't back away, you were with a stranger on this street but you didn't have the strength to care.

"I was just warning you, you seem to be in a bad situation already, we wouldn't want them to take advantage of that, would we?"

You laughed, not because it was funny, you were tired, and this guy you didn't know cared about you?

"So? Like I said, I can't be in a worse situation, I can't trust your word either, who knows, maybe after you gain my trust, you'll try to take me to bed too."

He frowned, looking at a tear that was streaming down your cheek. You were definitely not in a good state, and he wasn't planning on leaving you like that.

"I don't know how you've gotten men into your life, but I suggest you don't lump everyone together.You're here all alone, you look weak and tired, if I wanted to take you to bed I'd do it now."

You kept quiet, you had nothing to say, you sat on the pavement, your high heels were starting to hurt your feet. You turned to him as he sat down next to you.

"I'm Y/n."

He looked at your outstretched hand and laughed, he reached out his hand which was bigger than yours and shook it, you just realized how cold your hands were at that moment.He had a warm hand unlike yours.

"Park Jisung."

'Jisung' you repeated that name in your head.

"Are you planning on sitting here quietly?"

You grinned and glanced at him.

"You expect me to tell you? I don't have anything else to do though, do I?"

You took a deep breath, watching the couple pass in front of you, smiling as they walked hand in hand.

"I don't know if it's my bad luck or my fate, but all the men in my life have tried to use me. They're all the same, stupid teenagers, all they think about is sex."

He put his hands behind his back and tilted his head up in thought. You watched him, his adam's apple moving as he swallowed. He caught your gaze and spoke.

"Aren't you young? Don't expect anything else from boys your age, we men mature late, unlike you girls.Either don't take anyone in your life for a long time, or forget about men your age and try people a few years older."

You thought about it, you hadn't thought about being with someone older than your age. You watched the man next to you, he was obviously older than you. He stood out with his suit and face. He smiled when he realized she was watching him.

"Like what you see?"

You turned your head away in embarrassment.

"No. You're just standing here in a suit. Where do you come from?"

Now he was the one who took a deep breath.

"I was at a party with my friends but I got bored quickly, it seems like those kinds of places are not for me, I prefer to stay here quietly and alone, until you come."

You rolled your eyes laughing when he said the last sentence with a laugh, he grabbed your wrist as you were about to stand up, you looked at where he was holding you, he wasn't harsh, but when he noticed your look he quickly pulled his hand away.

"Oh sorry. I was just kidding, it's nice to have someone to talk to."

You sat down.You looked at each other, an awkward silence taking over you. The wind caressed your hair,he brushed the few strands that had fallen into your face.You flinched when you felt his fingertips on your cheek, he quickly pulled his hand away.You were letting a guy you just met get close to you like that, maybe that's why you always experience the same things, but this guy named Jisung... He had awakened different things in you.

"You might as well go home now."

"What is it? You don't want me with you?"

He paused, trying to find the right words, you laughed and standing up.

"Just kidding, I know what you mean."

He stood up with you, you looked at him, noticing the difference in his gaze. You looked away as his eyes looked into yours without fear, what was happening to you?

"Well...See you then?"

"Wait!"

You stopped as you turned around, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"It might be unsafe there, don't go alone, do you want me to come with you?"

You didn't know what to say, you didn't want to say no, you liked talking to him even a little, After some thought you nodded your head.

──────────────────────

A few minutes had passed, you were walking towards your house, talking about your own lives.

"So you don't have anyone in your life? Really?"

You looked at him in disbelief, well he was handsome, you didn't know him but from what you knew he seemed like a kind person. How could someone like him live alone?

"Yes, it was my choice, but you never know who fate will bring to me. Just like it brought you."

You turned your head to the road when he said this with a smile, looking into your eyes. Damn, you shouldn't have been fooled so easily, but every sentence he said sounded so real and beautiful. When you finally arrived in front of your house, you turned to him.

"Thank you for coming with me."

"It's not even worth mentioning. I'd feel bad if I didn't do this, just take care of yourself, okay?"

You pressed your lips together and nodded in affirmation, talking before walking in.

"Good night."

"Good night Y/n"

Hearing your name on his lips made you shiver and soon you were inside your house.

──────────────────────

The rest of the week went by normally, you hadn't even left the house. You tried not to think about Jisung when your mind thought about him most of the time.It happened and it was over, there was no point in thinking about it anymore. But your mind was playing tricks on you and you cursed when you thought his face.

You threw yourself out of the house, you obviously needed to clear your head. You went into the cafe near your house, ordered your coffee and sat down. While you were busy with your phone and waiting for your coffee, the tall figure standing in front of you caught your attention

"Was this place empty, little lady?"

The voice you heard sent shivers down your spine. You laughed at the encounter with him at the cafe you came to not think about him, you wet your dry lips and nodded your head.

"Yes, it's empty."

He came across from you and sat down. When your coffee arrived, you took a sip and tried to calm down. Seeing him again made your heart beat faster, and you hated this feeling already.

"I hope you're...okay now?"

He placed his arms on the table and leaned towards you slightly, you swallowed nervously and turned your head away.

"I'm fine, thanks for your concern."

He smiled at your shyness, damn even his smile was pretty.

"Why did you come?"

"What do you mean?"

He frowned at your sudden reaction, well that was the last reaction he expected but he could understand.

"I was worried about you, you seemed really sad that day, and you...well, you've been on my mind for a while. I was wondering if you were okay now. And when I saw you here I wanted to come and make sure."

You listened to him as your eyes widened in surprise, meaning you weren’t the only one thinking about him. The thought of someone caring about you brought up strange feelings inside you.

"I see. I'm fine, I guess I shouldn't let anyone into my life for a long time like you said."

He coughed as he drank his drink, pulling himself together and looking at you as you looked at him curiously.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah yeah I just-"

He took a sip of his drink and took a deep breath before speaking.

"I mean, I didn't think you would make a decision like that."

"Well? You're the one who told me that."

He was the one who avoided your gaze, you frowned, was he embarrassed of you? You couldn't help but giggle at how cute he looked, he turned to you when he heard your laugh.

"Okay Jisung, maybe I should try the other thing you suggested to me."

You couldn't help but smile as you saw a small expression of happiness on his face. He hid his smile and tried to remain serious.

"I didn't say that, but it's your decision."

You continued to smile as you took a sip from your drink.

"Hmm...Yeah, definitely."

You looked at him when the silence intervened, you bit your lip involuntarily when you realized he was watching you, his eyes fell on your lips and he tried to collect himself by looking away.

"So...now, would you like to come somewhere else with me?"

"So...A date?"

He smiled as he looked away from you.

"Yes, yes, a date. I mean if you want?"

You stood up, he watched you, you turned to him and pointed to the exit.

"Let's go then, there's no point in waiting."

#nct dream reactions #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct reactions #kpop x reader #jisung nct imagines #park jisung imagines #jisung x reader #jisung imagines #jisung nct #nct jisung #nct jisung imagines

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ckret2 · 5 months

Text

Chapter 50 of by this point human Bill Cipher is almost relieved to be imprisoned in the Mystery Shack again: Bill tells Mabel about his adventures, and Ford and Dipper tell Fiddleford about theirs.

But first Bill's gonna die for a bit.

"Guys! You're okay!" Mabel flung her arms around Dipper and squeezed him. "We were worried you were floating around and broke your legs when the gravity came back."

"N—no, we were fine," Dipper said.

Mabel let go of Dipper to hug Ford next—and then drew back, looked him up and down, and looked at Bill. "What happened to your clothes?"

Bill said, "We fell in the lake."

"Ha!"

"Tate was kind enough to loan us dry clothes," Ford said.

"You look like big dorks." She turned to Bill last, took in his dirty haggard appearance, and said, "And you look awful. Where have you guys been the last two days?"

"Thanks for asking! I've been in..." Bill glanced at Stan. "Am I allowed to say the name of the place I've been?"

Stan shook his head. "Not in front of the kids, you don't."

Bill sighed. "Agony. I've been in agony."

"Aww!" She hugged Bill last. "I like your stupid Fishmas sweater."

"Consider it yours as soon as I can change." He wriggled out of her embrace to point at his feet. "Check out the shoes, though!"

Mabel cracked up. "Omigosh, fish slippers! Fi— Fishlers? Fishppers?"

"Fishoes?"

"Fishoes!"

Soos said, "What did happen out there?" He was in the kitchen, cleaning and reorganizing after zero gravity had tossed everything out of order. "Did you heroically save Gravity Falls from imminent multidimensional devastation?"

Ford said, "No. Aside from the effects on gravity, it... turned out to be a benign phenomenon."

"Oh," Soos said. "Like... what Bill said?"

Ford grimaced. He managed to just nod instead of saying afraid so.

Again, he expected Bill to gloat; again, Bill said nothing. He didn't even look at Ford.

"It wasn't an eclipse, though," Dipper muttered, shooting a dark look at Bill. "It would've been an eclipse if it had gotten between us and gravity. It was basically the opposite."

"What do you want from me." The question was more sighed than spoken. "It was called an eclipse when I was growing up, I dunno what to tell you."

Ford, Dipper, and Mabel all looked straight at Bill at the mention of his childhood; but he didn't say anything more. He just trudged to the kitchen and leaned tiredly on the doorframe, watching Soos work. "Grab me something from the fridge."

"Sure thing, dawg." Soos opened the door. "What do you want?"

Bill was silent for a moment. Slowly, like a spirit medium channeling a faint message from the other side, he said, "I think... the body wants a vegetable. Gimme some guacamole."

"Sorry, dude, we had the last of it with dinner."

"Fine. Just give me an avocado and salsa, I'll make do."

"You got it."

"Two avocados."

Soos started rummaging through the jumbled mess in the fridge. "So if everything was okay, what took you guys so long to get back?"

"Yeah, I've been wanting to ask," Stan said. (He hadn't been able to in the car; when everyone realized Bill had passed out as soon as he'd sat down, they'd fallen into an awkward silence.) "Was the demon making trouble or what?"

Dipper and Ford exchanged a glance; who wanted to share the embarrassing news? Ford said, "Actually, under the circumstances, he was... well behaved." Ford resisted the urge to add the modifier "tolerably." It seemed mean-spirited. Bill had constantly complained, sure, but in retrospect could Ford say the complaints were unjustified?

"Then what took you so long?"

Now Ford felt Bill's gaze on him, watching him sharply. Ford understood now. This was why Bill hadn't mentioned saving them. He was holding it in reserve—offering a deal. If Ford and Dipper didn't embarrass him, he wouldn't embarrass them. If they mentioned his breakdown, he could cut in, claim it was natural for him to be in shock after performing such a difficult, heroic deed.

It wasn't blackmail, per se. Revealing the truth wouldn't cost anybody anything but a bit of momentary self-consciousness. But wasn't that just like Bill—only passing up an opportunity to boast so he could use it to shield his ego.

"It was Bill's fault," Dipper said quickly. Ford's heart leaped into his throat. "Because—we had to climb up and down the tunnel to Gravity Peak, and he only brought dress shoes and dumb fish slippers. We kept having to slow down."

Ford felt the pressure of Bill's gaze slide off of his face as he turned away, staring back into the kitchen. Bill said, "Yep. Guess I should have brought my hiking shoes—oh, wait."

Stan said, "You could've got some better shoes when we were at the mall! You're the one who wanted those dumb dress shoes."

"In my defense, I didn't think you paranoiacs would ever let me wander around in the great outdoors—much less force me to." He leaned more heavily against the doorway with a groan, muttering, "My legs are still jelly. Worthless human body."

Dipper glanced at Ford, as if checking with him to see if he'd made the right decision. Ford gave him a tiny nod of approval. After the day they'd had, humiliating Bill just for the sake of humiliation wouldn't have served any justice; it would have just been mean.

For the past three decades, Ford had always felt that Bill deserved the strongest possible punishment, both for his prior atrocities and to prevent future ones; but, he wanted to deal with Bill swiftly and efficiently. No gloating, no torture—just one quick shot. Sure, he got some grim satisfaction from knowing Bill was unhappy—knowing that Bill's vile intentions were being thwarted—and if anyone decided to treat Bill cruelly for cruelty's sake, he couldn't say they were wrong for it... but the thought of committing it himself made him uneasy.

He tried to remember if he'd felt that way when Bill had first arrived.

"I found the salsa!" Soos called from the fridge. "Somehow it all floated onto the highest shelf? Which kind do you want?"

"That one with a picture of a sobbing baby on it."

"Extra spicy it is!"

When Soos handed over the salsa and avocados, Bill said, "Hey, Hick Junior said his father was making announcements about staying inside and low to the ground? You didn't happen to have anything to do with that, did you?"

"Oh—yeah, I called Old Man McGucket and said I had a hot anonymous tip about what was going on," Soos said. "You said it was this whole public safety thing, so I figured the whole town should probably know? He's the local respected science guy now, I thought he'd know what to do with that kind of important information."

Bill grunted. "Terrific, he gets credit for my help. But you'd all be giving me heck if I'd said nothing and half the town broke their necks, so... whatever, net zero. Here." Bill took off the Monster-Mon backpack and swung it over to Soos. "Your reward. Good job."

"Whoa, haha, this is heavy. What's in here, a bag of rocks?"

"No, just one." Bill pushed off the doorway, wheeled unsteadily around, and trudged toward the stairs.

Soos unzipped the bag. A drugged geodite blinked sleepily up at him. He gasped. "Dude! A real Monster-Mon! Is this my call to epic adventure with a lovable animal sidekick?"

Ford grimaced, remembering watching Bill feed a geodite cold medicine. "Ah."

"I think I'll name you... Rocky," Soos said.

"That—really shouldn't be here. Its natural environment is caves, I don't know if it's safe for it to be out here—for it or us." They had been known to bite.

"Aww." Soos cradled the backpack like a swaddled baby. "Do you think it would be okay if I made it a fake cave to live in?" He gasped. "I could make an exhibit for him! I'll say he's a living meteorite! People love aliens."

"I'm not sure that..." Ford sighed. Well, none of them were going back to the cave today. "Maybe you should put it in the cellar where it's darker."

"Great idea!" Soos carried the geodite through the living room. "Hey, I've already got a mattress down there. You're gonna love it, lil dude..."

Ford hoped Soos didn't get attached to that thing. He shot a glower at Bill.

Bill was already on the stairs. "Now everybody leave me alone. Except you." He pointed at Mabel. "I don't want to do anything but lay on the floor and talk about whatever Mabel wants to talk about for the next three hours."

"Cartoons and boy bands."

"Yes," Bill sighed in relief, already preparing to turn 95% of his brain off. "Wow, yes, that's exactly what I want to talk about. I can't wait." He grabbed the handrail as he climbed heavily, leaning against it for balance as he dragged himself upstairs.

Before Mabel could follow him, Ford put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, before you go—there's something I wanted to tell you and Dipper." Voice low, he said, "You remember when you told me that Bill had mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop?"

"Yeah? When we were drawing our houses."

"Something Bill said while we were out shook a memory loose. It reminded me of a book I read as an undergraduate—Flatworld, written by Edward Bishop Bishop."

"Aww," Mabel said. "Not an artist?"

"No, although he did illustrate the book," Ford said. "It's a novella that combines Victorian social commentary with a primer on higher-dimensional mathematics by using an allegory about sentient shapes living in a two-dimensional world."

"That's what you were talking about in the boat, right?" Dipper asked. "When Bill said something about..." He scrunched his face, trying to remember, "'Up in the sky'...?"

"Upward-but-not-skyward," Ford said, "to describe something that isn't higher than us in the third dimension, but rather, in a higher dimension relative to us."

"How do you know about it?" Dipper asked. "The first time it came up, you said the name Edward Bishop Bishop was familiar, but..."

Ford sighed in irritation, "I read it as an undergraduate—in a haze of sleep-deprived exhaustion just before finals week—to get extra credit in a course on the history of mathematics. I immediately forgot ninety percent of it—which I'm sure is why I never thought of it in relation to Bill. If only I'd remembered the book thirty years ago, when it might have done me some good..."

"It's okay," Mabel said. "I forget almost everything I've read for class basically as soon as I've taken the test. I think it's pretty good that you remember anything about Flatworld at all!"

Ford smiled awkwardly. He was afraid that might say more about Mabel's study habits than about his. "Thank you, Mabel."

"And you did have a lot on your mind thirty years ago," Dipper said. "Like, Bill. Literally. On your mind."

Mabel added, "Doing creepy possession things!"

"I suppose that's true, too." What would he have done if he had remembered the book during that frenetic, delirious period when Bill and Ford had wrestled for control over his body? He'd been in no fit shape to go to the library. "I did think about it a couple of times in the multiverse—when I was visiting Exwhylia, for instance—but at the time I'd brushed it off as a lucky coincidence that I'd read a book that invented a society of shapes. It wouldn't be the first time science fiction predicted science fact. But now that Bill's mentioned it twice, I'd say it's less likely a coincidence and more likely that Edward Bishop Bishop was another of his 'students.'"

"Is there a way for us to find out?" Dipper asked. "If he was Bill's student, would he have left behind any... hints? Coded messages?"

"Like secret society conspiracy things?" Mabel asked.

"Yeah!"

"I suppose it's possible," Ford said. "If Flatworld happens to feature a one-eyed yellow triangle sharing the secrets of the universe, we'll know for sure. But, there's only one way to find out: now that I do remember the book, we can pick up a copy for research."

"That's great," Dipper said. "If Bill told the author about his home dimension... there's no telling how much we can learn about him by reading it."

"So it's basically a math textbook disguised as a story?" Mabel groaned. "That's just like doing word problems! The most confusing kind of math problems. Why does Bill keep making me have homework this summer?"

"You know what he's like," Dipper said, elbowing her with a grin. "Dastardly villain."

"Pure evil."

Ford huffed. "If it helps, as I recall the book teaches you about math concepts, but it doesn't make you do any math."

She let out a longer, more theatrical groan. "Fine. But if there's a cousin Throckmorton I'm throwing the book away."

"I dunno, sounds kinda neat," Dipper said. "It might give me a leg up when we start geometry."

"I don't remember the details of what it covers, but I bet it could," Ford agreed. "I have to visit Fiddleford this evening to return the equipment he loaned us, and... discuss the events of the last couple of days. If the library's still open when we're done I can go by and see if they have a copy of Flatworld."

"Can I come along?" Dipper asked.

"Of course. Just give me a moment to..." He looked down at himself, "change into something a little less ridiculous."

Dipper tried not to laugh. "Okay. I'll wait here. Mabel, do you want to...?"

"No thanks!" She pointed upstairs. "I've got a captive audience to teach about boy bands. I'm going to make him listen to Sev'ral Timez's entire discography."

"He's already had a pretty bad day. Don't torture him even more."

Mabel blew a raspberry. "He'll love it." She bounded up the stairs.

Ford headed to his and Stan's guest room. Dipper took off his backpack, dropped it in the living room, and stuck his hands in his pockets—then pulled one out in surprise.

The enchanted friendship bracelets. They were still in his pocket. Bill hadn't had them on since Dipper's out-of-body experience that morning.

Dipper stared at them uneasily; then hung them in their usual place on the entryway coat rack and resumed waiting for Ford.

####

It was a rare opportunity that Bill was allowed in the kids' room; but with Ford and Dipper out of the house, the one person most likely to complain wasn't around. So after having extracted a strict promise for him to behave himself, Mabel had let him in, for ease of gossip and CD-switching.

But even if Dipper had been in the room, he wouldn't have found much worth complaining about. Once Bill had finished his snack (he'd eaten the avocados like pears, skin and all, and drank down the salsa like a chunky smoothie), he'd laid down on the floor, and since then had remained a dead lump. Face buried in his crossed arms, curled up in the oversized Fishmas sweater and a set of loose stolen-from-Soos sweats to replace the towel skirt, he might as well have been a pile of laundry that had sprouted curly golden hair. Mabel had put Sev'ral Timez's first album on the boombox, sat herself on Bill's back, and started brushing out his damp, knotted curls without asking as she talked about each track.

To her delight, Bill started insisting they skip past the slow, emotional love ballads, saying he preferred the bouncier dancier tracks; she thought the fact that he was displaying a preference rather than begging to turn the band off was a good sign. He was actually listening to the music. Possibly even liking it! Maybe she'd manage to convert him into a fan. She recounted her experiences with the band's cloned members and Bill threw in the polite "Mhm" and "Uh-huh?" where appropriate without lifting his head from the floor or opening his eyes. She'd thought he might have had something to throw in about the cloning thing, that seemed like the kind of conspiracy nonsense he might have a hand in; but if he knew anything, he wasn't up to sharing it.

When she'd wrangled his hair into some semblance of order, she got to work on his fingernails. His arm was like a dead weight in her hands, loose and unresisting but not helping, either. He shifted his head over to rest on his other arm and otherwise didn't move.

"Your fingernail polish is destroyed," Mabel said. On three fingers the paint had been all but completely scraped off. When he'd left a couple of days ago, it had just been lightly chipped. She started stripping the remainder with nail polish remover.

"Is it?" Bill mumbled. "Mmh. Yeah, probably from clawing in the dirt."

"Pfff. What did you do the last couple of days?"

Bill slowly sucked in a breath so deep that Mabel felt his back lift her a little higher off the ground; and then he just as slowly let it back out. "Do not," he said, "get me started."

He got started.

He began with a tirade about the contempt that both Ford and Dipper had shown him and his far superior subject matter expertise for the last two days; and then about being hauled out and exposed during totality after repeating over and over how dangerous it was and how much he would prefer to not do that—Ford had even admitted he'd dragged Bill out into open air just because he knew how much he didn't want that!—and from there Bill looped back to listing a whole litany of gripes against what he perceived as egregious and undeserved disrespect from Ford over the last couple of weeks—"Youmight have lied to me about that glass pyramid, but at least you didn't laugh in my face about it!"

(Mabel thought Ford pretty much had the right to be as disrespectful to Bill as he wanted, after everything Bill had put him through. Lying about a silly imaginary cult was less mean than lying about taking over the universe. But part of being a good friend, she knew well, was lending a sympathetic ear to your friend's venting without suggesting that said friend might be in the wrong. She had a Color Critters episode about being honest with your friends she could show him later.)

Bill seemed to gain strength as he aired his grievances, bolstered by Mabel's encouraging "mhm" "uh-huh" noises. By the time she'd finished repainting his first hand (she'd picked a glittery purple polish she thought would complement all the yellow he wore), he was sitting upright and Mabel had to sit in front of him to start on his other hand.

"—and my stupid feet hurt," Bill griped. "Since Stanford made me traipse halfway through the mountain barefoot because he wouldn't let us go back down before the gravity returned and I don't even own shoes for spelunking. And my knees hurt, and my back hurts, and I could have killed for a walking stick but do think they'd have allowed me one if I asked? Because I don't think so! I tripped over—I don't know, a hundred roots."

"Worst hiking trip ever." Mabel finished painting his second hand, and started looking through her miniature sticker sheets for some fun stickers to put on Bill's first hand now that it was dry.

"Worst in the history of your planet! Even the Donner party had a better hike! At least some of them got something to eat," Bill said. "All I got for two days was a handful of cereal and Stanford's liquid meat in a toothpaste tube."

Mabel stuck out her tongue.

"And Stanford walks too fast. And your brother kept trying to squeeze through gaps between trees I couldn't get through. And Stanford kept fiddling with his—stupid—useless antique Civil War lantern he's so proud of, and he's just lucky that I thought to bring a way to find a light source even though I didn't even need one, because I knew he would bring that stupid Civil War lantern..." Bill's complaints petered out.

And then, voice oddly quiet, he said, "And I saw my corpse."

Mabel looked up from carefully placing a yellow butterfly on Bill's middle fingernail. There was a dark look in his eyes. "Oh," she said. "Oh, Bill. I'm so sorry."

This wasn't just a bad camping trip. This was serious. She had to treat it seriously.

She ejected the current CD from the boombox, put in another Sev'ral Timez album, and skipped to track 4: "This goes out to anyone having a bad day. Ladies, this one's for you. 'Girl, today has been—straight whack. You don't know how you're gonna—bounce back. But any time you're down, I'll always be around; I'll drive your heart back to Happy Town'..." Oh yeah. That was the exact energy Mabel was trying to channel.

"And I didn't feel anything when I touched it." Bill was staring down at his hands like he barely recognized them. "No energy, no connection—nothing. What if there isn't a connection anymore? What if I'm just a human now?"

Did that weigh on Bill? Clearly, enough that he'd decided to endure imprisonment in the Mystery Shack rather than kill his body to see if there was still a triangle inside.

But he'd never talked about it before now; she'd thought maybe he just didn't worry about it.

But that was dumb. Of course he worried about it. He was just like her. When something scared him, he just pushed it down and hoped that if he ignored it enough, everything would be okay! Until he couldn't pretend anymore.

And she'd never heard him sound this scared before.

She took his hands and hoped that would help.

He squeezed her hands so hard it hurt. His still-wet nail polish smeared on her hand. "What if I'm really gonna grow old and die in this rotting meat doll, what if I never go home again—? There's so much I haven't done, I was going to throw an eternal party, it would have been beautiful, everyone would have loved me, but now— and now—" He let out a choked noise, head bowing over their joined hands, posture broken. Hot tears landed on the backs of Mabel's hands. "And I didn't even get to, just, die and be done with it, I have to know I'm dead, I have to know everything I was going to do..."

"Hey—come here." Mabel tentatively wrapped her arms around Bill's neck and shoulders, compressing his bouncy curls. She half expected him to pull away.

Instead, he buried his face against her shoulder and hugged her back like she was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

After spending the last two days suppressing his grief and fear so hard his body couldn't function through it—after spending over a month suppressing his grief and fear—finally, finally, he peeled the tape off his cracked shell to let it leak out. He couldn't hold it together anymore. He'd barely put himself back together long enough to get on his feet and make it to the shack. This was the only place it was safe to fall apart. He muffled his sobs in Mabel's sweater.

And Mabel—who was used to being comforted by adults but who had never been called upon herself to comfort anybody but her brother and the occasional friend—had no idea how she was supposed to comfort a zillion-year-old almost-definitely-adult alien through an existential crisis.

Not for the first time, she wondered whether she might have gotten in over her head.

She pushed the worry down. Everything would be okay. Bill needed her—she could feel him trembling—and he didn't have anybody else in the world he could trust. And if she didn't know what else to do, at the least she could keep hugging him.

Voice so tight it almost squeezed out as a whisper, Bill said, "I was going to make a utopia here, but now I'm just gonna die here."

"I'm so sorry." How do you comfort someone processing the fear of mortality? She'd never processed it herself, she was thirteen, it was just another scary future thing she'd deal with when she had to. The best she knew how to do was be nice. "But... I'm here, okay? For—for anything you need." (Anything that wasn't evil, anyway—but now was not the appropriate time to make Bill feel like her support was conditional.)

"Tell me I won't die."

"You won't die! You're never, ever gonna die." Mabel hugged him tighter. "I'll fistfight Death. I'll—break his bony kneecaps."

"Thanks."

"I'll swing at the reaper with a baseball bat."

Bill laughed feebly. "With nails in it?"

"Yeah! And barbed wire! Connected to a battery!"

"Oh, we're taking Death down. Nobody's dying ever again."

"Everybody lives forever!" Mabel laughed; but it quickly petered out. "But... I'm not gonna let you die. You're my friend, and I won't let anything happen to you."

Bill's trembling had stopped, and his embrace was less death-grippy. "I owe you one, Shooting Star." From Bill, "thanks" sounded hollow, but "I owe you one" really sounded like a thank you.

"Hey. If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to do anything evil with it?"

"Sure. Promise."

Mabel doubted it, but that was as good as she was gonna get. "I've always thought you're still a triangle on the inside. You've got those creepy cat eyes that see the future and stuff! If you were just a normal human, wouldn't you have normal human eyes?"

Bill made a noncommittal noise.

"Plus, if you'd really been turned into a human on the inside, then being in a human body wouldn't feel so bad—right? It'd just feel normal."

Bill was silent for a moment. Voice hoarse, he whispered, "I hope you're right."

####

Fiddleford answered the door himself. "Stanford, Dipper, come in! I was just cleaning up." He had a broom, and the great hall's floor behind him was sparkling with broken glass. Ford was relieved to see Fiddleford had put on shoes. Unfortunately, they were fuzzy slippers. "Pardon the mess!"

"Think nothing of it. The shack's been turned upside-down, too." Ford stepped around a broken chair. "Don't you have anyone to help you clean, though?"

"Oh, I do, I do! I built me a Janitorial Executive Drone to tidy up," Fiddleford said. "I'm just cleaning up the mess JED left."

Ford and Dipper looked around at the shattered glass, broken furniture, scorch marks around the fireplace, and torn curtains. Dipper asked, "Did... JED make this place any cleaner?"

"Not at all!"

Ford and Dipper caught Fiddleford up on their scientific findings of the last couple days. Ford was almost embarrassed to admit they hadn't found any noteworthy quantities of micro-rips, as if he were confessing to a personal academic embarrassment—even after Fiddleford pointed out that it had been his own theory, not Ford's. (All the same, Ford hated to be so wrong, even by association. Being wrong felt like a moral failing.)

In return, Fiddleford told them what he'd been up to. He'd confirmed with them NASA fellas that the odd gravity effects weren't detected anywhere but Gravity Falls. At their behest, he'd set up some sensors around town, and when gravity suddenly reversed, the measurements they'd taken had allowed him to make a very loose model of the shape of the force that caused it. He showed Ford and Dipper the model on a computer in his lab, black screen with sharp glowing green lines forming an armature in the shape of a force. It looked like an enormous flying sausage that tapered down at one end. Too little detail to tell exactly what it was; but it certainly could have been an axolotl.

It was turning to look at the cliff where they'd stood.

Fiddleford wasn't pleased to find out the information he'd passed on from Soos had originally come from Bill; but he'd suspected it and already done all his soul-searching before reluctantly sharing his advice with the masses and hoping it wouldn't come back to bite him. "He didn't bother to warn us that gravity would actually disappear today, though," Fiddleford said indignantly. "So he could crow about being right and still get to see some folks get hurt, I reckon."

"Actually, this time I don't think he was hiding it. I kinda think he just made a mistake?" Dipper said.

Ford nodded. "Dipper's right. Bill was incredibly alarmed this morning when it became clear our estimates were wrong. It only made more trouble for him."

"I suppose," Fiddleford said grudgingly; then gave them a sharp look. "This mornin'? You took him camping?"

Ford and Dipper winced. Ford mumbled, "Not for fun."

"Stanford Pines—!"

It took a minute of hooting and hollering before Ford could calm Fiddleford down enough to explain the circumstances: that they'd only brought Bill because of just how much he explicitly did not want to be brought; that it had been a thoroughly unpleasant experience for everyone and Ford had never expected it to be otherwise; and that Bill had proven useful—Ford decided not to share the details—but he hadn't forgotten that Bill always made himself useful before he betrayed someone. If a man helped a little old lady cross a street, opened her door for her, put up her groceries, and then knocked her out and burgled her house, only one of those actions mattered.

(Dipper fell silent rather than help reassure Fiddleford. Ford supposed that was because he'd objected to bringing Bill, too.)

Fiddleford grudgingly admitted that under the circumstances, bringing Bill had been logical. "But that's just the thing—sometimes your logic don't account for the fact that you've got human emotions, too."

"Ah, yes, those human emotions. One of my worst flaws," Ford joked.

Fiddleford didn't laugh. "I mean it, Stanford. The most logical plan in the world don't mean nothing if he talks you into throwing it aside."

Ford thought of all the times he'd let his temper get the best of him over the last couple of days. Could he really say he'd made the logical decision when he'd made it out of anger? "Yes. I... see what you mean."

"Just be careful," Fiddleford said. "I saw you under that demon's oppression for months and never thought it was anything worse than how you always got around finals week—heck, for all I saw, I reckon he coulda started possessing you without me noticing—and I don't want that to happen again!"

Dipper winced. Ford found somewhere other than Fiddleford's face to look.

"What?"

"He... did. Possess me." (Dipper didn't pipe up with his experience. Ford didn't blame him.)

"He what? When?!"

"Remember toward the end of the project? When I started pulling all-nighters to finish the calculations...?"

Fiddleford smacked his forehead and sank down into the nearest chair.

Ford winced again. "I should have told you." During their talks over the past year, he'd been very reluctant to mention Bill or the fallout at the end of the portal project. They both had. "But—I assumed you'd guessed by now. What did you think was happening?"

"Frankly? I thought you'd started taking something illicit."

Ford snorted. "I—all right." He'd done stupider things during finals week.

"If he was possessin' you, why didn't you ask for help? I could've found somebody who knows how to do exorcisms. Did he not let you? Or—or did I miss you trying to tell me...?"

Ford shook his head. "No, I didn't want an exorcism." He wasn't sure Bill was the kind of "demon" that responded to exorcisms anyway. "At the time, I thought... that he was helping me."

Dipper reluctantly piped up, "He... possessed me once too. I didn't know that's what he was doing until too late, but... Even after you know he's a bad guy, he's really good at making you think he's just helping."

Fiddleford didn't immediately say anything to that. Ford couldn't meet his gaze.

Finally, Fiddleford said, voice low and worried, "Just tell me you won't let him get into your head again. Either one'a you."

Dipper shook his head. "Definitely not."

Ford said, "As he is now with all his powers gone, I don't think he can enter my head. Anyway, I had a metal plate surgically installed—"

"I didn't mean that way."

Right. "I won't. I promise."

Fiddleford nodded. "Didja really get a metal plate installed?"

Ford knocked on it demonstratively.

"Hmm." Fiddleford stroked his beard thoughtfully. He pointed at a contraption in the corner that looked like a ten foot tall tuning fork with electricity arcing between its tips. "Try not to get within five feet of that thing."

Ford eyed it nervously.

####

Fiddleford insisted Ford and Dipper stay for dinner. It was the first proper meal they'd had after two days of tubes mushy meat and mushy vegetables; so they tried not to show their disappointment when they received mushy meat and mushy vegetables. Fiddleford's automatic meatloaf-and-mashed-potatoes maker did its job more competently than JED did its, but Ford suspected that was partially because it didn't have legs to let it go get in trouble.

As they drove back into town, a stoplight turned red at the intersection with Main Street. Ford glanced down Main toward the library and asked, "Do you still want to stop by the library?"

Dipper, who'd nearly nodded off, blinked sleepily. "Huh?"

"To pick up Flatworld?"

Dipper yawned. "Honestly, I kinda just wanna go home and sleep."

"I hear that." He'd almost drowned today. He was exhausted. "Perhaps this weekend."

"Aren't you going to that concert with Mabel?"

"Was that this Saturday?" He'd lost track. Mabel had won four tickets from some radio contest to see Phrancisco in Portland and had asked Ford if he'd like to come. "I'm undecided. I'd like to go—I've been a fan of Invisible Plastic Yellow since they formed." He was the one who'd told Mabel about the band after their Portland trip and gotten her their albums. He'd had a phase when he'd really gotten into cutting-edge underground new wave music. It had made him feel conventionally cool, which not many things did. Now, all his musical tastes were three decades behind. He hadn't even known Phrancisco had a solo career until Mabel came home with tickets.

"But she's bringing her friends, and whoever has the fourth ticket needs to chaperone; and I'm afraid an old man escorting around three young girls would look... odd. It may be more appropriate for one of the other girls' parents to go." But he did want to see Phrancisco. "Perhaps I'll wait and see whether Mabel talks me into it."

"Better pack your bag now, then."

Ford laughed. He had a point. "If I do go to Portland, maybe I can stop by a bookstore to pick up Flatworld. If it tells us anything useful about Bill, I suspect we'll want a household copy for reference."

He was eager to reread it. He'd forgotten so much of it since college. He only recalled the vague, overarching plot: something about a third-dimensional sphere teaching a second-dimensional square about realities with higher and lower dimensions—from zero dimensions up to four—and a stuffy society based on what geometric shape you were... but that was it. He probably never even would have remembered the phrase "up but not north" if Bill hadn't referenced it. He wondered how much it could have helped him if he'd reread it sooner.

Dipper yawned again. "Sounds good."

The light turned green; and Ford drove past the library and headed on home.

####

(After going full tilt for two months, we finally get a breather lol. I hope y'all enjoyed, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #fiddleford mcgucket #grunkle ford #dipper pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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serpentandlily · 6 months

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Untouchable Part IX Teaser

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Azriel growled at his High Lord. “I’m leaving. Now.”

Both Azriel and Rhysand looked worse for wear. Rhys’s face was littered with bruises and cuts and Azriel was sure he looked no better. But he didn’t care. All he cared about right now was that his mate was in the hands of that fucking sorcerer and he was going to rip that male apart limb by limb for ever thinking he could take her.

“We need to think this through, Az,” Feyre pleaded. “If you rush in, you’ll end up dead and be of no help to Y/n.”

Azriel’s hands tightened into fists. These past two days had been hell. Once Rhys had misted the Prince in the clearing, he had winnowed the three of them back to Velaris—to start planning their rescue mission.

He hadn’t even gotten two words out before Azriel pounced on him. He could barely remember those first few hours after she had been taken. All he knew was the anger he felt—the rage. The mating bond snapping into place. The bargain breaking. And her…his love being taken away from him, his heart and soul with her.

And Rhys, the fucking asshole, had been at the center of his anger. For making him agree to that bargain with him in the first place. For making him stay away from her—his mate.

It had taken Cassian, Mor and Feyre to pull them apart that day.

He had stopped starting fights with Rhys but his anger still pulsed under his skin, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

"We've had plenty of time to think,” Azriel snapped at his High Lady, causing Rhys’s head to shoot up with a warning glare.

“Watch your tone,” Rhys bit back at him.

“Fuck you, Rhys!” Azriel slammed his scarred hands down on the desk between them. “I’m going and I swear to the Gods if you try to stop me, I’ll rip your throat out!”

“No, fuck you, Azriel!” Rhys yelled, standing up to his full height. “Stop acting as if you’re the only one affected by this! She was my sister long before she was your mate! Maybe if you hadn’t gone behind my back—”

“Maybe if you hadn’t made us make that stupid bargain with you in the first place, we would’ve never had to! I could’ve had centuries with her. You stole all those years from us!”

The second the bond snapped between him and his mate, Azriel swore he lived a whole lifetime. A whole lifetime they hadn’t been afforded. It had all flashed right before his eyes. His mate…His beautiful mate. She deserved so much better than this and as soon as he got her back in his arms, he would give her the whole world. He'd tear the sun from the sky if it would make her happy.

“Guys, stop! This fighting between the two of you has only made things worse! Fight all you want once we get Y/n back, but you need to focus. Both of you. For her sake,” Feyre snapped.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, letting out a noise of frustration. His shadows swarmed around him like a monsoon—screaming his mate’s name over and over again in agony. “You don’t understand, Feyre. Every single time I feel her…during those tiny moments she slips through to the bond…all I feel is her pain. He’s torturing her. How am I supposed to sit here while my mate is being tortured?”

He turned away from them, unable to look at Rhys any longer as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He had completely and utterly failed his mate. Had let her get into the arms of an enemy. This was all his fault…all of it. She would’ve never even ran away from Velaris if he had never tried to move on with Elain last year. He put those thoughts in her head and there was nothing he regretted more in his life. He had never wanted Elain. He had never even wanted Mor. He had tried, when he thought Rhys’s sister was off limits, to move on. But he had never, ever stopped loving her. He had never felt anything for anyone other than her.

And she had been ripped away from him before they could even have a life together.

“That’s it,” Rhys whispered from behind him. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“What?” Azriel snarled, whipping around.

“You said you can feel her sometimes—through the bond, right?”

Azriel nodded his head, crossing his arms.

Rhys stroked his jaw in thought. “He must be drugging her with faebane. But not consistently. There must be small moments when it wears off before he gives her another dose. That’s why you can feel her sometimes.”

“Where are you going with this?” Feyre asked.

“We can use the mating bond to tell us when to act,” Rhys explained. “When Azriel can feel her, we know her magic is regenerating. We should stop looking at this as battle and more like a stealth mission. We bait Koschei into coming to the water’s edge the moment Azriel feels my sister down the bond—act like we are declaring war. Keep him distracted long enough for her to get back most of her power. Meanwhile, Azriel can slip into the cabin, release her from whatever binds he has her in and get her out.”

“What about the wards around the cabin? No one can winnow in or out. Even Az’s shadows might set it off.”

“I’ll have to get inside without using any magic,” Azriel said. “I can do it. I can get to her. As long as you keep him distracted and buy me enough time.”

“Helion has given Y/n some lessons on setting and breaking wards,” Rhys added. “Once she sees you, once she realizes she’s being saved, she can start working on breaking them so she can winnow the two of you out.”

“And you trust that she’ll be able to do that?” Feyre asked.

Rhys let out a long sigh. Azriel knew how much it would pain him to have to force his sister to save herself. Rhys had always been the one doing the heavy lifting for their family, always keeping his sister as protected as he could, especially after she almost died. But he couldn’t save her this time.

He’d need to have faith in her.

“She can do it,” Azriel declared, full of confidence in his mate’s abilities. “She is not that little girl in the woods anymore, Rhys. You’ve trained her. I’ve trained her. She is more than capable of this.”

“I know she’s not,” Rhys whispered. “She hasn’t been. Not for a long time. And I’m sorry, Azriel, I truly am. You’re right. I should’ve never forced you to make that bargain.”

“Save your apology for when I get my mate back,” Azriel spat out.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

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amaiaqt · 3 months

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤミㅤyou're my heart shaker, shakerㅤ⋆ ｡˚ㅤ♡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤwhat if you think he's weird ? oh, just go for it ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmodern sethos !

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤin celebration of sethos, he gets a solo fic ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsethos fans enjoy, xoxo ♡

just talk to her, she seems nice enough !

— is what sethos repeated to himself repeatedly in his head as he watched you pass by without even sparing him a glance, far too engrossed in what you were chatting with your friend about. he wants to approach you, and he swears he finally has the guts to . . but alas, you've already turned the corner before he even managed a word out. it's always like this; he sees you passing by, plans out in his head what he's going to say, takes too long to say it, then he's left watching as you turn the corner or go up the stairs. he's not a coward, he swears—

"you are a coward." tighnari huffs out after snapping his fingers in front of sethos' face to snap him out of his daze. sethos blinks at him. "what, what do you—" "that was the third time they passed by today." sethos heaves a long sigh, his shoulders drooping at his dejection.

"who am i kidding ? they're so pretty that even if i do manage to approach them by some miracle, i'd lose all my words." he huffs.

"yeah, it's pathetic." "would it kill you to have some sympathy ?!"

cyno awkwardly pats sethos' back as tighnari shakes his head. "do you want us to push you towards them the next time they pass by ?" "let's not—" "please !" "no !"

"tighnari, our friend here just needs a little push." "i will push you off a—!"

while the two bickered, sethos sunk back into his own thoughts. ideas . . ideas . . ideas . . he was all out of them. think, sethos, think ! how should he approach you ? 'hi, my name is sethos, here's my number. call me sometime—' no, that's pretty demanding. he wants you to want to take his number, not accept it just because he gives it to you !

'hey hey gorgeous/handsome ! mind if i—' no, eugh. way too forward, you'd no doubt be weirded out by that. but, some people like forward people right ? but, he doesn't know if you do . . he'd rather play it safe.

should he just say hi ? should he just give you a note and run away ? he'd probably look silly, but, what if you like silly guys ?

"hi, you're sethos, right ?"

sethos near jumps out of his seat when he realizes that from how busy he was repeating his 'lines' in his head, he almost didn't notice you approaching his table. ok, this is real. this is happening. archons help him.

"uh—yeah ! yeah, that's me !" sethos stands up from his seat, nearly knocking over the napkin holder in the process.

he definitely owes tighnari and cyno for this one, if it weren't for them talking to nilou and planning out this whole 'operation: sethos finally asks for [name]'s number', he has no idea how he would've gotten here with you. sitting together in puspa café.

"i'm [name]—"

"[name] ! such a—such a pretty name !" sethos grins, mentally cursing himself from how he was stumbling over his words so much. he swears this is it. you're about to get weirded out. you're about to excuse yourself—

you laughed, "thank you. nilou told me a bit about you from cyno and tighnari."

archons, that laugh ! ok, sethos, focus. remember your lines !

'so, i've been seeing you around, and i think you seem like a really cool person, and i'd be honored if we could get to know each other better.' yeah, just as practiced. now he just has to actually say it right.

"so so, you're really pretty and i've sort of had a crush on you since i saw you after enrolling !"

sethos. where did that come from !? as soon as he finished that statement, he swears his entire ancestry's disappointment rained down on him. all that practicing in front of the mirror . . for nothing !?

he braced himself for the grimace on your features, for your accusatory statements calling him a 'stalker' or whatnot. his heart already stopped the second he said the word 'crush'. there's no way he can go back from this—

"wow," you blinked at him.

he has to be hallucinating. he has to be imagining the pink on your cheeks. he has to—

"they didn't tell me about that part, i'm shocked." you laughed, before realizing and waving a hand reassuringly. "oh, but not in the bad way, i assure you !"

no, it's okay, you can say you're weirded out. you can—

"i think you're cute too. we can . . exchange numbers, if you'd like ?"

. . . was he hearing that right ? were you saying you thought he was cute ? no way. no way !

"i mean it." it was as if you read his mind when you smiled at him.

now, his heart was beating, shaking, ready to leap out of his chest and—

"sorry sorry, i'm a total mess right now . . but, do you mean it ?" please say yes.

you grinned, nodding. "i mean it. i hope we can become close, sethos. you seem like a really cool person too."

and there it was. okay it technically went the opposite way with you asking him for his number. but . . that was a total success in his book !

"oh, oh ! uhm . ." sethos cleared his throat. "ok uh, cool cool ! then, do you want to order anything ? my treat !"

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sethos x reader #sethos genshin #꒰ㅤdelulu publishing houseㅤ꒱#♡𝅼 ་ ׅ : babe wake up amai posted ！#amaiaqt

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adventuringblind · 1 year

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Hi!

can you do a fic w/ Oscar where the reader is a PhD student so they can’t really go to any of the races so fans online are DRAGGING her by saying she’s a bad gf, Oscar should cheat on her, and she doesn’t deserve him etc. Maybe she has like an identity crisis at a race and is questioning everything so Oscar is there to comfort and reassure her?

I’m sorry this is very long!

also I love your writing :)

The Psychology of Fans

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst if you squint

Request: omg I love this idea, specifically because I am a student. Also send me ideas plz 🙏. I don't think y'all understand the excitement it brings me to make something that you enjoy :)

Summary: it's a busy time in readers life working on her PhD in psychology. She wants to support Oscar as much as possible but is struggling to find the time. The fans take notice of her lack of presence and start tearing her down because of it.

Warnings: Toxic fans, panic attacks

Notes: written in third person. This one was challenging, but fun to write!

Masterlist

Everything had been going amazing for the couple. She was starting her PhD in psychology, and Oscar had signed with McLaren for a seat. They were ecstatic for eachother.

They had their own dynamic that worked for them. Spending time together when they could but being patient with the other if things didn't go to plan.

When they started dating, she had requested that her socials and information remain private. She didn't care if people knew they were dating. She just didn't want to deal with the fans and media while she was deep in her studies.

Things between them were great. Oscar tried to keep things as private as he could. It was simple during his formula 2 career when they started dating. There weren’t as many people watching his every step.

His fan base grew exponentially as soon as he signed with McLaren. All the sudden people were everywhere asking for pictures and autographs. All the while, people were asking about his dating life. They were asking questions about her.

When the Australian Grand Prix came around, she made sure she was there to see it. She wanted to support Oscar and his first formula 1 race. It was an exciting moment for him and you wanted to share it together.

The cameras and fans were relentless and ridiculous, in her opinion. Their was never a moment of peace since they wanted to know everything about Oscar and his guest.

After everything was said and done, the fans took nicely to her and Oscar. It was relieving for both of you. It gave the press team less to worry about. Not that either would have cared, but it was nice knowing he wouldn’t had to hear about it in meetings.

School had started picking up the pace. McLaren was struggling this season. It left both of them stressed and longing for each other. She wanted to support him more then what she was but her schedule didn’t allow for it.

Sometimes she would travel with Oscar but didn’t go to the track. It was a small gesture that he appreciated. He didn’t care where she was as long as she was cheering for him.

The fans had taken notice of her lack of attendance. Coming up with their own assumptions about why she wasn’t there. Calling her names that were untrue and hurtful

“Oscar deserves better.”

“Bet she just wants a top driver.”

“Maybe she has other guys when he’s gone.”

It was driving her insane. She knew it shouldn’t get under her skin, but it did. Oscar did deserve someone who could support him full time. Who cheered him on at every race. It was causing her more stress then she could manage.

She decided not to tell Oscar. The idea of burdening him anymore made her feel sick.

It was now the British Grand Prix and she had decided to go and support Oscar despite the work that was piling up on her plate. He had gotten new upgrades on his car and she was saying prayers that they worked.

She practically fell over when he finished fourth. Screaming in joy for the Australian who had been working so hard.

It was on their way out that everything seemed to fall apart.

Fans wanted pictures and the cameras were still in his face. He tried to shied the girl beside him from it, pulling into his side while he walked. It was then he heard what they were saying. Heat rising to his face.

“If you’re not going to say something nice then let us through please.” Oscar pushed past everyone and forced his way to their car.

He held her close that night and reassured her that they were spewing lies. This if they were acting like that then they weren’t real fans.

Oscar was shocked when she came to the Hungarian Grand Prix. He knew she was stressed about school. He saw the dark circles under her eyes. But she is absolutely determined.

Peoples criticism was getting worse by the day. Oscar had started to catch on since his PR team was now bringing it up but he didn’t want to push her.

It was the end of qualifying. Another success from Oscar. A success she didn’t get to see despite all her best efforts.

The thought of what everyone was saying ran wild in her head. An interaction with a few fans left her devastated. They were saying she was only here now because Oscar is doing well. How she should support him through it all. How he could do better then her. How he deserved more.

She was sobbing now. Her mind screaming insecurities. Her breath uneven and her hands clutching her head as she tried to block out the voices.

Oscar had been looking for her after the press conference. He wanted nothing more then to hold her in his arms and celebrate his achievement. He’d been looking for ten minutes with no sign of her.

He tried calling and texting, but had yet to receive an answer. Worry started to settle in his chest. His efforts now expedited only to run right into Lando.

“Have you seen y/n anywhere?” Oscar asks the Brit.

Lando, however, was out of breath. He had run around trying to find Oscar for a few minutes. “I heard her in your driver room. She sounds awful mate.”

Oscar didn’t waste a second moving in that direction. He felt a bit stupid for not having checked there first.

It didn’t take him long until he was swinging open the door to reveal her curled up on the floor. Her hands over her ears and body shaking.

He crouches down next to her. Slowly so he doesn’t scare her.

Sue didn't notice his presence. She couldn't even see her surroundings. Everything was going dark and she knew she needed to breathe or she would lose consciousness.

She heard faint yelling. "Lando!"

It was Oscar's voice. The sound almost drew her back to reality. But the dark confines of her mind had too much of a grip.

Oscar was ready to go into his own panicked state, but he needed to remain calm. He hears Lando slide into the doorway. His face dropping immediately now that he can actually see her.

Oscar takes her into his arms. Her curled up body was now placed between his legs. Her back against his chest.

She was completely absent. She wanted to protest and understand what was happening, but the fear of letting the voices in made her refrain from doing so.

It was difficult for Oscar to stay calm. He'd never seen her like this. He ran his fingers gently up and down her back. He uses his leg to push hers closer to the ground. Her body is trying to fight his, but the lack of air in her lungs makes it difficult.

Oscar wraps his arms around her now, pulling her further into him. Still trying every tech he knows to soothe her.

Lando came back with water and made his best attempt at coaching him through this.

She still was struggling to breathe, which concerned them both. Her hands gripped her head so hard he could see little spots of crimson in crescent shapes.

"Talk to her, mate. It might help her get out of her head."

Oscar nodded his head at Lando's suggestion. The Brit then ran off again to investigate what happened.

Instead of holding her around her middle, Oscar switched his tactics. Moving his hands to slip underneath hers. The little specks of blood now decorate his fingers.

Her mind was trying to grasp onto anything to bring her back. The thoughts are doing their best to pull her back under. She knows Oscar is there. She tries to ground herself with his touch.

He's repeating his words - a prayer falling from his lips willing her back to him. "I've got you. I'm here. Breathe. You're safe."

She tries to slow her erratic heart. Her body has been dry heaving and coughing from the sheer amount of static.

She finds the feeling in her arms and legs come back, using it to push herself further into Oscar. Then, finally, she can feel the thick cloud that has taken hold of her mind to start to filter through. The end of the tunnel in sight.

Her body practically goes limp. Oscar holds her up and leans her head on his chest. Trying to soothe the female in his lap.

Everything in her body hurts, but her lungs are finally getting some reprieve. She takes in the situation around her. Oscar's comforting touch keeps her present.

Her body stops trembling. Only little hiccups now escape as the tears slow. It hurts Oscar to see her like this. She looks broken and he dosen't know how he didn't catch it sooner.

"I'm sorry" falls from her lips. He just shushs her and continues to stroke her arm. "You deserve better than me."

Oscar is taken aback by her admission. He was too stunned to stop her before she continued on. "Other girls can be there to support you. They aren't as busy with school. They are prettier and can travel with you, and you wouldn't have to worry about them cheating -"

Oscar shifts them around until he can see her face. Her puffy teary eyes shattering him. He holds her face in his hands. “Other girls aren’t you.”

She can’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes again. A flurry of emotions tries to take hold once again.

“Who gave you that idea?”

She shakes her head. Willing him to ask anything else. Panic again rising into her throat as caught wrack her body. She tried to pull away from him. Her body starting to close in on itself again at the memories.

Oscar doesn’t let it happen. Holding her in place firmly yes every one of his touches are gentle and loving. He silently wills Lando to come back faster. His teammate has dealt with anxiety and would know better then him what to do.

“It’s okay, Love. We don’t have to talk about it.” He soothes and reassures her until her body goes lax agains his once again. Put exhaustion takes over and she can’t will herself to stay coherent and conscious any longer.

Oscar is relieved when she falls asleep on him. Her breathing becomes even and her body now relaxes.

Lando reappeared in the doorway ten minutes later; Out of breath and drenched in sweat. “Mate, you’re not gonna like this.”

The two boys moved the girl to the small couch and draped her against it gently.

Oscar was trying to hold in his rage. He wanted to storm out of the motor home and unleash his anger on everyone who ever said a word against his girl. The girl he loves. The one he chose and trusts and is ridiculously proud of. Her accomplishments deserve to be praised, not torn down by those who call themselves fans.

Lando had warned him against it. It would be a PR mess and might actually cause her more anxiety. So he bit his tongue and put on the Oscar everyone was used to seeing.

He practically sped through all his media duties. Wanting nothing more then to see that he got her back to the hotel room. Back to a safe environment where she could open up to him.

Oscar was done quickly and back in his room and changed within an hour. The woman asleep on the couch still breathing evenly.

He knew he didn’t need to, but he waited for Lando. The Brit had offered to help him get her back safely and fend off any media who tried to talk to them.

He welcomed the fact that they were distracted. Not caring much as passerby’s gave him weird looks.

She woke up in a foreign place. She distinctly remembers being at the track. Regardless, she couldn’t help but sink into the comfort.

Oscar her her shifting around. Gently seating himself next to her on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” She rasped. Her throat both sore and dry from her earlier wailing.

“Please don’t panic-“ he places a hand over hers. “- Lando told me what happened. We’ve both made statements about it and the PR team is doing the rest. Everyone agrees it isn’t right.”

A weight felt like it was being lifted of her chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job to make sure things like this don’t happen. I love you so much and I hated seeing you like this. I don’t car in anyone else sees it. I see it and I see you. And you want to know what I see?”

She shoot him a quizzical look, curious as to where he’s going with this.

He smiles. The smiles that makes her feel warm. The smile that make heat rise to her face.

“The greatest thing I could have ever asked for.l

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mattscoquette · 6 months

Text

𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑨 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬/𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 - 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. a quiet introverted girl attempts to befriend her popular neighbor

cursing and arguing, matt is rlly mean in this chapter lol

2.8k words

introduction 1 2 4 5 6 7

addilyn richardson,

had spent the past three days at the sturniolo’s house working on her project with matt. they had decided to build a marble run to show how gravity and kinetic energy work. over the course of the week, addilyn had continuously tried again and again to be nice to matt. her kind efforts were not reciprocated one bit. in fact, matt had seemingly grown meaner and meaner each day she was over.

it was currently wednesday, and addilyn was in the living room with chris watching a rerun episode of seinfeld that was playing on t.v. her and matt had gotten into an argument, again, over the project. they bickered about the most irrelevant things. addilyn hated it, she just wanted to make peace with matt. especially since chris and nick were so nice to her, she felt the least she could do was try to be civil with matt. this, however, was not the case. since monday, every session they had together was filled with dirty glances from the brunette boy and endless arguments between the two. today the disagreement was about who’s name was going first on the project sheet they had to complete.

“i don’t see why it’s a such a big deal to you, matt!” addilyn had argued.

in the few short days she’s been coming over to the sturniolo’s, she’s been breaking more and more out of her shell around the triplets. nick and chris brought addilyn out in a different way than matt did. nick and chris actually listened to her, and encouraged her to speak more about her interests. and addilyn loved talking with them. if you were lucky, the most you would get out of the poor girl was five sentences, seven max if she was having a good day. but all she did with chris and nick was talk. she thought they were both so funny and genuinely kind people. with matt however, all she had done with him was argue, seemingly making her more outspoken and confident than she was the first day she was at his house. she hated the confrontation, but she was slowly learning to speak up for herself more when she was around matt, because all he ever did was talk down to her. this was both a blessing and curse, because addilyn quickly learned how short her temper was when it came to the brunette boy.

“it is a big deal, addilyn,” matt yelled back at her. she hated the way he said her name. “it makes it look like you’re doing all the work if your name goes first.”

the girl shook her head in disbelief. “you hear yourself right now, right? do you realize how idiotic you sound?”

“besides,” addilyn continued, “who gives a fuck how it makes you look? everyone in our school already is infatuated by you, i’m sure everyone will like you even more if it makes you look like you got some nerd to do your science project for you!”

matt opened his mouth to fight back, but before he could get his words out, addilyn huffed.

“save it, matt.” she said, grabbing her phone and getting up from the table to walk into the living room, where chris was. she stormed out of the kitchen as matt watched her go in disbelief. disbelief from the fact the girl who would barely speak above a whisper just yelled at him, or the fact that she was kind of hot when she was mad.

“no offense, chris, but has matt always been this much of an asshole?” addilyn asked, grabbing a handful of potato chips from the party size bag that sat between her and the the youngest triplet.

chris just laughed, popping a chip in his mouth. “i mean, kinda. he thinks he’s tough shit and has a big ego, so sometimes he acts like he’s above everyone. no one other than me or nick ever really has tried to humble him.”

addilyn sighed, looking back at the t.v. “i’m happy you’re not like that.”

“i am too.” chris said.

she smiled back at chris as he watched the t.v. show. she was about to say something else to him when she noticed matt enter the living room, standing in the door frame. he still looked pissed off, but fuck, did he look good. his arms were crossed over the white t-shirt he wore from an old lacrosse tournament he and his brothers played in a few years back. black sweatpants clung loosely to his waist, and his hair was all tousled from constantly running his slender fingers through it as he and addilyn worked. his silver chain peaked slightly out of his shirt, sparkling along with the complementary silver earrings that dangled from his ears, making his blue eyes seem brighter. it was no wonder he was so popular, even if he was a dick. the boy breath taking, and addilyn could honestly attest to that. but only to herself, she’d never out loud admit the boy who had been making her week ten times worse got her all hot and bothered.

he motioned for addilyn to come over to him. still angry with him, she ignored his request and directed her attention back to the television. matt fumed in annoyance.

“addilyn come here.” he told her.

“no.”

“god, you’re just- you’re so annoying, do you know that?” matt sputtered, stomping across the living room like a spoiled kid who didn’t get his way, and up the stairs into his bedroom. both addilyn and chris heard him slam his door. they giggled slightly at his childish mannerisms and continued watching their show.

*₊˚ 𓂃✧

addilyn ended up going home soon after matt went upstairs. she didn’t mind, though, she was fed up with his attitude anyway. the last few days they’ve been working together, she’d spend a minimum of two hours working with matt, and she felt it was already taking years of her life. the girl simply couldn’t understand how someone could be so rude all the time. every time she thought they were making progress and he was being nicer, he would mutter something along the lines of i can’t believe i’m actually letting you sit in my kitchen right now or just a plain you’re so annoying.

halfway through the second day, addilyn snapped back at him for the first time. she was exhausted from the school day, and she’d already spent an hour at matt’s making no progress at all. they were starting to get into it if they should do the project as a marble run or try to replicate newton’s cradle.

“we can’t do newton’s cradle, matt,” the girl told him softly, “that demonstrates the conservation of energy, we need to demonstrate the energy of an object when it is in motion. conservation is kind of different.”

“it’s all the same thing to me.” matt rolled his eyes. he wasn’t exactly einstein when it came to this kind of stuff.

“i’ll explain it to you again, so kinetic en-” she started, getting cut off by matt.

“addilyn i do not give a fuck,” he exclaimed, “you’re getting on my nerves, just do your half of the shit and i’ll do mine.”

“i’m getting on your nerves matt?” she spoke back to him, the loudest he’s ever heard the girl talk. his eyes went wide. “you’re getting on mine, too. you cant do your half of the shit if you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing!”

that shut him up for a good twenty minutes, until he opened his mouth to argue again why they should do newton’s cradle.

now she was in her room trying to work on some of the project, due to her time with matt getting cut short today. she laid all her notes out on the bed and sat there, phone in her hand, as she was texting nick and chris after leaving early.

from: addy richardson :)

to: neighborhood besties🏠👯‍♀️

i don’t get ur bothers issue

from: nicky🦩

to: neighborhood besties🏠👯‍♀️

sorry addy

i don’t either

from: chris👽

to: neighborhood besties🏠👯‍♀️

we should come over one day and hang out with just us three

no project work

from: nicky🦩

to: neighborhood besties🏠👯‍♀️

yessss

from: addy richardson :)

to: neighborhood besties🏠👯‍♀️

omg! that’d be so fun

i need a matt detox lol

from: chris👽

to: neighborhood besties🏠👯‍♀️

sick

we’ll come over tmr if thats cool

from: addy richardson :)

to: neighborhood besties🏠👯‍♀️

yay okay

i’ll let matt know we aren’t working tmr

from: addilyn (science project)

to: matt sturniolo

your brothers are coming to my house tomorrow, so we can’t work on our project

i’ll be back friday tho

i’ll see you in class tomorrow!

read 4:23 p.m.

*₊˚ 𓂃✧

it was the next day, and nick and addilyn were currently in their shared art class. their regular teacher wasn’t in today, so they had a substitute, and were instructed to occupy themselves by having a “catch up day.” although technically they both had something to work on, the duo opted to play hangman on the backside of addilyn’s sketchbook.

“what do you wanna do when we come over later?” nick asked, drawing an arm on the man. addilyn had only guessed one letter correctly - t - and she was doing horrible. she had one arm left to be drawn before the game ended. nick kindly offered to give the man a face, too, so addilyn had more of a chance.

“i’m not sure,” addilyn admitted, “i usually don’t have people hanging out with me a lot.”

“i would say we can go shopping or something, but i don’t have my license, and neither does chris.” nick laughed.

“it’s okay, i don’t either.” addilyn assured him. “is there a u?”

“nope!” nick told her, popping the “p” sound, drawing another limb.

art was the last class of the day, so the two chatted and continued their game of hang man (addilyn lost, the phrase was i love art class) until the bell rang, dismissing them for the remainder of the afternoon. the two of them met up with chris at his locker, and they made their way out of the school.

the three of them took the bus together, matt refusing to drive them home since addilyn was with them. he’d been ignoring her the entire day since their argument yesterday. not like he payed much attention to her on a normal day, anyway. but he had been typically giving her a small nod of acknowledgment when nick and chris said hi to her as she left the house in the morning, crossing paths briefly with the sturniolo’s. matt kept his word to addilyn and only drove her to school the one morning. when nick asked her tuesday afternoon in art why she didn’t come over to get a ride, he was fuming.

“i’ll talk with matt,” he promised the girl.

“nick, really, i don’t care.”

“it shouldn’t be a big deal, your house is ten yards away from mine. he can drive you.” nick pointed out.

matt being matt, immediately shut down nicks plea after their drive home that day. he told his brother there wasn’t enough room for her in the van, “bullshit” nick argued, because their hockey bags took up too much room in the back and he “didn’t want nick to be cramped.” nick had sighed and walked away from matt, giving up. he took the bus the next morning with addilyn.

when the three of them got to the girl’s house, they all went up to addilyn’s room. “it isn’t much..” she said shyly, suddenly embarrassed of her lack of decor. granted, she did just move in, but she had no plans to add to her room at all. the most decorative thing in her room was a birthday card her aunt sent her in the mail that was laying on her vanity. other than that, all the furniture was plain, her bedsheets were a simple white, and the walls were bare.

“it’s okay! that just means there’s always room for more stuff.” chris told her.

addilyn laughed quietly as she sat down on her bed. “do you guys want to watch a movie or something?” the two boys both nodded. “okay, you can sit on the bed with me if you want. or i can sit on the floor or i-”

“stay on the bed addy, we’ll sit with you.” nick smiled at her. she scooted over as he and chris sat on the bed with her. she picked up her remote, scrolling through netflix to find something to occupy the three teenagers. addilyn settled on the breakfast club, falling into utter shock when both boys said they’d never seen it.

“how can you have never seen this? it’s a classic!” addilyn exclaimed.

*₊˚ 𓂃✧

a few hours went by, and the three of them ordered a pizza to satisfy their hunger.

“it’s just crazy to me that there’s three of you.” addilyn had said to nick. they were all sat on addilyn’s carpeted bedroom floor as they ate the pizza off of paper plates. there was soft music playing in the background to fill the silence that would fall between them when the conversations would lull.

“it’s so normal to me, though,” chris told the girl “i’ve never known anything other than it.”

“that’s true.” addilyn pointed out.

nick nodded in agreement with chris, taking a bite of pizza and washing it down with soda. “how’s your science project going, adds?”

the brunette girl sighed, shaking her head. “fine, i guess. i just don’t get why matt hates me so much, i try to be nice. but he gets on my nerves”

“he’s just like that,” nick admitted, “he’s always been kind of abrasive. makes him a good defenseman in hockey, though.”

“yeah,” addilyn replied, her voice beginning to trail off, “i like having you two there while we work, though. it balances everything out.”

“we love having you over, addy.” chris grinned at her, pizza sauce all over his face.

“chris, wipe your mouth please.” addilyn laughed, nick joining in with her too. the duo erupted into a fit of uncontrollable giggles as chris continuously tried to clean his face, and repedealty missing the same spot over and over again. he finally got the spot, giving addilyn a slight shove.

“you were no help at all,” he told her, still smiling widely. “what’re you up to on saturday?”

addilyn breathed deeply, trying to regain herself. “nothing, probably just reading alone in my room.”

why would you say it like that? you make yourself sound so lame in front of them sometimes, addilyn thought to herself. despite their personalities being so different from matt, chris and nick were still just as popular as he was. they always were invited to every party, always sitting at the most crowded lunch tables, and always said hi to by everyone in the hallways. the biggest “party” addilyn had been in attendance for was her cousin’s tenth birthday party at chuck e. cheese, where the entire fifth grade class got invited to.

“you’re always at home reading,” nick pointed out to her, “you should come to our hockey game.”

hockey game? addilyn didn’t know the first thing about hockey. her dad wasn’t a big sports guy, not liked she would have cared to watch it with him if he were. besides, the few friends addilyn did have wouldn’t want to go with her. the only people who knew what would be going on would be on the ice, and she would have to sit there alone. and matt, too. god, he would have an absolute hissy fit if addilyn showed up to his game. she could hear his voice now, why would you invite her?

she shook her head. “i- i’m not really sure…” addilyn whispered.

“pleeeaaase addy, it would be so fun.” chris exclaimed, looking intensely at her. “you would like it, i promise. you can sit with my parents and justin, they already know you.”

addilyn paused for a moment and thought. maybe she could enjoy herself. she hadn’t gone to a school sports game ever, this would be her first. what’s the worst that could happen? after all, it was just hockey. and chris was right, the triplet’s parents did know her. and they were so nice, too. everyone in that house was nice to her, except matt. if he didn’t look exactly like chris and nick, addilyn would have thought he was just some random kid they took in from the street.

“okay,” addilyn smiled, “i’ll be there.”

chris and nick both cheered in excitement, tackling addilyn in a hug and knocking her to the floor. she laughed hard as she hugged them back, promising to be there front and center at 2:30 p.m. when the game started. as much as she loved her alone time, addilyn was really beginning to enjoy making new friends.

𝐚/𝐧: thank u all for 100 followers 😭😭 i’ve literally gained like 40+ followers since i started posting this series, i hope u all r liking it! i’ll be away this weekend and i go back to school next week so chapter 4 prob wont be out for a few days bc i still need to write more for it. but i hope u guy enjoy chapter 3!! if anyone would like to be added to the tag list just lmk! love u all <333

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @alorsxsturn @sturniolossss @cammie4298 @bussybandit1 @amorttentia @franticroads @sturnsssbow @cams5sos

#© mattscoquette #writing 𓂃 𝜗𝜚 #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #fanfic

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ihavethedreamies · 7 months

Text

Expert | Easy to Expert (3 v7)

Lee Yongbok (Felix) & Bang Chan - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.6k

Felix/AFAB!Reader/Bang Chan

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff, Fluffy Smut

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Lingerie, Pet Names (Love, Pumpkin, Baby Girl, etc.), Multiple Partners, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Sixty-Nine, Threesome, Double Penetration, Anal Play, Sex Toys - Butt Plugs, Anal Sex, Bang Chan has a Monster Cock (of course), Cockbulge (hmm), Unprotected Sex (Bad Idea, Don't Do It), Daddy Kink gets awakened, this is actually really soft and fluffy believe it or not, Bromance

Disclaimer: I do have the whole cock-bulge thing in this. I understand this could be a bit offensive to some who are on the heavier side (I am in that group as well). Sorry if this doesn't align with your body type, this is just a work of fiction.

Author's Note: This is the last one I am writing in this series, so let's see what absolute nonsense shows up here. I'm going to TRY and tone it down…

PS. I wrote the first not before I wrote the story, and this is after. This went a COMPLETELY different direction than I thought it would. Get ready for tooth rotting fluff AND smut.

PPS. Bang Chan is my bias and Felix my bias wrecker so that is why this one ended up like this…

-> Series Hub <-

-> Part 1 <-

-> Part 2 <-

-> Ver. I.N. <-

-> Ver. Seungmin <-

-> Ver. Hyunjin <-

-> Ver. Han <-

-> Ver. Lee Know <-

-> Ver. Changbin <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"What?" Chan stopped dead in his tracks, Felix continuing past him. He thought for a second that he was hearing things, or someone else's conversation. The younger man stopped as well, turning back to his best friend.

"(Y/N) wants a threesome, you in?"

"Why are you asking me?" Chan sputtered and Felix shrugged casually.

"She asked for you specifically so…"

"She asked for ME?"

"Yes?" Chan's head was swimming. He had to admit, ever since he found out a few months ago you couldn't cum, he was looping in his head. It wasn't romantic intentions behind him trying to figure out what he could do for you…Not at all. He had been trying to convince himself he no longer had romantic feelings for you, especially since you started dating Felix. It was obvious to the others, even Felix, but he appreciated that his hyung denied it even to himself.

"Are you sure?" The eldest of the group asked your boyfriend.

"I wouldn't be asking you if I wasn’t. She picked you like a month and half ago, I've had time to think about it." Felix huffed, amused. Chan was getting flustered, and the younger man knew why.

"Are you thinking tonight?" They were already on their way to your apartment for movie night.

"Well…yeah. We can move it though."

"You really think I can just sit and watch a movie with you two now?" Chan shook his head, but continued walking. Felix fell into stride next to him and they continued to your place.

Felix messaged you when they were about fifteen minutes out, and you scrambled off the couch to get ready. To say you were excited was an understatement. But you were also lowkey terrified. It was not a hidden fact among the friend group what Chan was packing. You had even heard from other girls on campus. Not a traditional player by any means, he had been around the block. He was an incredibly sweet gentleman, but a lot of girls just wanted to fuck him to say they conquered the beast. That was literally what they said. The thought made you shiver as you prepared. Stepping out of the bathroom, you looked yourself over in the mirror. Felix had gotten you a set of wolf cosplay lingerie, fitting for Chan. It was more or less a bikini lined with gray fur. The silicone plug he got you a month ago now had a grey furry tail attached; the texture tickled the backs of your thighs. A matching headband with grey ears sat on your head, it was a little too big though, so you hoped it stayed on. Furry cuffs surrounded your ankles and wrists as well. The bottoms of the set were more like shorts than panties, but there was a hole cut out of the crotch which gave access to your cunt as well as let the tail plug sitting in your ass. You shook your arms to get rid of some of the nerves. Though, they just came back two-fold when you heard your boyfriend and his friend arrive. Your shaking increased as you padded to stand at the foot of your bed, waiting for them to remove their coats and shoes and meet you in the bedroom.

"Go on, bro." Felix told Chan, his accented English hitting your ears. Were they going to speak like that the whole night? Fuck yeah.

"Oh, baby girl!" Chan was floored as he entered your room. You looked so fucking cute, his heart thumped hard, and he felt his pulse in his cock too. The pet-name did stuff to your insides, and you nervously wiggled, the tail wagging a bit from the momentum. To be honest, before you and Felix hooked up, you were tempted to go to Chan. With his reputation, you were sure he could have managed, but you in no way regretted that it was Felix. Your boyfriend followed him in and came to admire you as well. You turned toward him as he settled only a foot away from you.

"Good job, love." He praised and you both turned back to Chan. He was still gaping, and you were still too nervous to look him over completely. He just had grey sweatpants on and a black sweatshirt. You desperately wanted him to take it off so you could get a better look at him. You had seen his perfect body many times, but you wanted to touch it. Your fingers fidgeted with themselves, the black painting nails at the ends catching Chan's eye.

"Rules?" You prompted Felix and he looked at you, back to his friend then shook his head.

"Just tell him no if you want." he told you and you blinked, then again. Seriously? He would let his friend kiss you? Fuck your holes and fill you with his cum? That was four of the rules out the window. Plus, if he wasn't going to lead Chan through this, then the final one was trashed as well. The thought made your core clench as you finally looked back to the other Australian.

"Go on." Felix assured you and you took a hesitant step forward, then trotted over to Chan who was still looking at you in awe. His hair was brushed up and back some, framing his forehead. You would have been fine just looking over every detail of his handsome face, but you needed even more. Your small hands went to the zipper of his hoodie, and he let you pull it down. He huffed at your pout when you saw he had a t-shirt underneath.

"It's below freezing out there, baby girl." He told you, amused by your reaction. You mumbled something incoherent, and he laughed. The sound pierced you, made you let out a small whimper, pushing his sweatshirt off. He continued to watch, amused, casting a glance at Felix who looked just as entertained by you. You took a deep breath, sneaking your hands under his shirt and mewling as your warm fingertips brushed over the ridges of his abs. With his assistance, you removed the shirt completely and Felix saw your thighs clench. While he wasn't thrilled by how turned on you were already, he wasn't too surprised either. You were honest with him and admitted you almost went to the eldest for assistance before you and Felix got together. He appreciated your honesty, and therefore trusted you. Didn't mean his pride wasn't a little hurt.

"Oh, my god." You gasped out, your touch tickling Chan some. He laughed, his gorgeous smile distracting you for a second.

"Can I kiss her, 'Lix?" Chan asked politely and you leaned in some more.

"Yeah, I guess." Your boyfriend allowed and you let him kiss you. He was rough, more so than you expected. Chan knew better, he was there to fuck you, not make love to you. He would leave the sensual kisses to Felix. He tilted his head, his hand going to the back of yours and his slid his tongue in your mouth. You keened at the feeling. He was good. Too good. You pulled back a trail of saliva connecting your mouths.

"D-don't do that again." You muttered, your face red. He nodded, humming in agreement. Felix snorted playfully. His trust was well placed. Not wanting to step over the line, Chan stayed mostly still as you sank to your knees before him. Seeing him shirtless in the grey sweatpants was already sinfully attractive, you wondered what he would be like fully naked. An adonis carved out of marble for sure. There was already a bulge from his hardening cock, but it was mostly hidden by the thick material. He laughed at your eagerness as you hastily pulled the waist band away. Your eyes widened as he stepped out of his pants. He was nowhere near being fully hard, but his black briefs were already straining.

"Fuck." You wheezed. You were salivating like the wolf you were dressed as. You fiddled with the tag on the black choker you had on, Felix's name engraved into it. As long as you only fell for Chan's cock, it was fine. You turned to look back at your boyfriend anyway and he gave you a reassuring smile. He had looped over every possible scenario in his head over the last month, knowing to almost a T at that point what would make you react in what way. So far, no surprises. Even though to some you hadn't been dating long, you spent as much time together as possible, so he knew you well. You had been friends for years before then too.

"C-Can you…" You drifted off, wanting to get a good view of Chan's briefs coming off. He smiled and did as you wordlessly requested. He felt a little sheepish under your gaze, honestly, as you ogled him. Adonis indeed. You literally watched his cock harden further under your appreciating gaze. You licked your lips, desperate to wrap them around him. Felix ended up not speaking the rule you had first decided on, but you were a bit worried about what it would do to you to let Chan cum down your throat.

"Can we do something?" Chan suggested, snapping you out of your daze. He also looked at Felix.

"Sixty-nine?" He finished the request and Felix stiffened a bit. Knowing Chan, he might be able to make you cum from that and your boyfriend wasn't sure if he was okay with that. The eldest was definitely the expert of the group and mastered the art of sex like the instruments he could play. But, when he looked into your big, pleading eyes, he couldn't say no. With a slow nod you hopped to your feet giddily and Chan chuckled, following you to the bed. He nodded for you to climb over him once he was on his back. Straddling his face, he wrapped the tail around his hand just to hold it out of the way. The panties gave him perfect access, the fur ticking his cheeks a bit though.

"Sit on me, baby girl." He urged and you lowered your hips. You weren't expecting the immediate pleasure you got from his tongue. He immediately swirling it around your clit, sucking hard. You gasped, falling forward, finding the head of his now fully hard cock in front of you. Once again, your eyes met Felix's and he nodded. Eagerly, you wrapped your hand around Chan's cock, your fingers not even able to touch. You wrapped your eager lips around the head, your jaw protesting some at the stretch. Chan rumbled under you; his strong arms surrounded your thighs to hold you where he wanted you. Your moan vibrated through his dick as you got as much as him as you could in your mouth. It would be too dangerous for you to let him into your throat, you had to center yourself by finding Felix again. He loved that you kept thinking of him throughout. It was also more arousing than he thought it would be, seeing your mouth full of his best friend's fat cock. Chan ate you like a man starved and your boyfriend could see the characteristic twitch in your hips that meant you were close. You were more shocked than Felix that the other man was getting you to the edge so fast. His hand twisted in the tail again, tugging it slightly, and took your clit between his teeth, rolling it and you fell forward as you came, swallowing his cock deeper. Chan grinned as your cunt dripped on his tongue and he let the tail go, letting your orgasm ride out. When you came down, you pulled him out of your mouth, panting for breath.

"Okay, baby girl." Chan eased you to roll off of him, you landed on your back, still breathing harshly. Tears pricked your eyes and Felix instantly came to your side, petting your head softly, shushing you. You looked at him, so pitifully, ready to cry.

"Hey, shh, love." His heart broke seeing you like that and Chan got up on his knees next to you. He could tell you were crying from emotions, not physical feelings, but he still felt bad. At the same time, he was extremely proud of himself for making you cum like that. He had satisfied the goal he set in the past, not ever thinking to dust it off and complete it. Chan's heart thudded again, this time in sorrow. You were too precious.

"I'm sorry, Felix." Your breath hitched and he leaned down to kiss your forehead, petting your hair. Instantly he felt bad for feeling jealous.

"Love, (Y/N), its fine. I'm not mad." He chuckled a bit to reassure you.

"Really?"

"Yes, sweet. I just want you to feel good, okay?" He hummed and you nodded, sniffling. Chan finally saw the relationship dynamic you two really had. It was a dominance and submissive one, but Felix played the role so softly. And you were so cute with it, not a hint of being a brat.

"You want to keep going, baby girl?" Chan made sure and you nodded shyly. He smiled warmly and helped you sit up, removing the loose headband so you could stop fiddling with it.

"Can I take all this off her?" Chan asked and Felix nodded. You sat there like a good girl as Chan gently undid and removed everything from you but the black choker. He even took the tail off the plug, leaving the silicone toy inside you. The other man also took the tie from your hair, letting it fall over your shoulders. The way he looked at you actually warmed Felix's heart. He also knew if you asked him, he would be open to letting Chan in on your relationship. If it was him…he could share you. That was something to bring up later though. You shivered a bit, now a tad chilly and Felix smiled, climbing on the bed to hug you from behind.

"Good girl." He soothed and helped Chan maneuver you to sit on his lap, back to him. Felix placed a soft kiss to your lips, and you whined at the feeling of Chan's cock wedged in the cleft of your ass. Felix had decided not to turn the vibrations on, planning it as a surprise. The encounter turned out to be softer than he originally thought it would be.

"What're you thinking, 'Lix?" Chan knew him too well, could see the gears turning. His eyes met the eldest's and you looked up at him too. His eyes cast to yours. It wasn't a secret that you had a huge crush on Chan about a year ago, but you never pursued it. Little did you know, Chan had liked you too, for a while. He didn't even piece together, that's what it was at first, but Felix knew. Even when Chan would deny it to himself, Felix knew. Felix could still sense your love for himself, but he also saw how you looked at his best friend.

"You want him too?" Felix asked and you didn't understand the question at first. Wasn't that why he was there? The other man figured it out immediately though.

"Felix-"

"I'm not stupid, hyung." He huffed playfully and his true meaning registered.

"Felix?" you asked him, implying your question in your tone. Are you sure?

"We can discuss it after, but don't feel guilty." Your boyfriend kissed you softly on your cheek under your eye.

"Want him here?" Felix continued, helping you settle on Chan's lap, stroking his fingers through your soaked folds. You nodded softly, letting the man behind you hold you in his arms. You felt so secure, even more so with Felix there too.

"Think you can make her cum again?" Felix challenged and the other man smirked.

"Let's see." He nuzzled behind your ear, one of his hands sliding down your stomach till his fingers hit your clit. You whimpered as he swirled over it, then slid both fingers home. You sighed as his fingers filled you. They were thicker and longer than Felix's, but just as talented it seemed. His palm rubbed hard over your clit as he scissored the digits in you, the pad of one finding the rough spot on your back wall. You twitched when he rubbed over it and Felix watched the gears turn in Chan's head. His fingers left your core, rubbing back up to your clit, and he exposed the little nub further. He was an expert, Felix decided. He learned your reactions instantly, knowing just what to do next. Chan then fucked three fingers into you, harshly pressed against your further exposed clit with his palm. His fingers crooked hard and up, his palm swirling your clit and you shivered hard, head tossed back to land on his shoulder. You were close. Once again removing his fingers, he took your button between two fingers, pinched hard and pulled your nub, and Felix watched your cunt spasm as you came. The slight bit of jealousy he still felt dissipated when he saw the way Chan looked at you. He nuzzled your temple with his nose as you trembled, kissing the crest of your ear. As you shuddered, coming down again, your head rolled so you could look at him.

"Fill her up, hyung." Felix allowed, smiling as your eyes widened.

"'Lix~" You reached out for him, Chan still loosely hugging you to him. The eldest smiled fondly as Felix came to you, the smile on the other’s face was so warm. Chan could tell how much you two loved each other, and he was honored you both were willing to let him wiggle his way in. When he was within reach, your hands stroked over your boyfriend's pretty freckle covered cheekbones.

"Let’s have Channie fuck you, hm?" He cooed, the words racier than his tone implied. You whined with a nod and Chan chuckled softly at your cuteness. You both were so cute.

"Okay, baby girl. Tell me if it’s too much." The man behind your spoke into your ear, his arms holding you closer, his right hand coming to cup your left breast. You never got much sensation there, but you did flinch a bit when he pinched your nipple. Chan loosened his hold, moving his hands to rest at your hips, and Felix's moved to your waist. You let them move you around like you were a ragdoll till you were kneeling, cunt hovering over Chan's cock.

"Good girl." Felix praised, kissing the corner of your mouth as they both led you to sink on the eldest's dick. The feeling knocked the air out of you, he was so fucking big. You couldn't help but ponder how much bigger he could be if he was taller. He whispered soothing words in your ear, Felix kissing over your collarbone. You breathed, using the same technique as when your boyfriend fucked into your ass. Chan groaned, your cunt was so hot and tight, and he could feel your slick gummy walls perfectly. It made you all the more addicting. He could also feel the bump of the plug in your ass through the walls of your cunt. When Chan felt your cervix kiss the head of his cock, he halted your descent, a good inch or two left.

"M-more." You pressed and Chan rubbed circles over your lower stomach. He smirked, he could feel the bulge of his cock already, and you mewled when he pressed down.

"You sure, baby girl?" Chan's voice had gotten huskier somehow, deeper, rumbling through you. Felix smirked and lowered his voice himself, bringing his mouth to your other ear. What your boyfriend planned on saying next would probably earn him a playful smack later, but he was so eager to see your unfiltered reaction. Your eyes were already blank, nothing but cock on the brain.

"Tell daddy how you want his cock." Felix ordered you and Chan gasped as your cunt squeezed him hard. He huffed, thinking he misheard what Felix whispered to you at first.

"Want daddy deeper~" You whimpered and the men both groaned at your plea.

"Yeah?" Felix teased you further.

"Yes, sir~" You pled to him instead and he smiled. You were too fucking cute. There was a very specific reason Felix preferred you called him sir during sex, and that reason was splitting you open on his cock. At first, he didn't want to use 'daddy' because he was jealous, thinking it might make you think of Chan. Especially since you jokingly called the eldest that all the time. But now…everything worked out perfectly.

"Okay, pumpkin." Your boyfriend's pet name for you changed and the new word made your core pulse around the other's dick. Chan knew that you both went full into roleplay mode at that.

"Daddy~" You whined, and he laughed, acquiescing. You yelped when his hips shifted under him better, letting him thrust up hard, burying his cock all the way in you. Words escaped you, only a string of babbles left you. Felix smiled and shuffled down the bed more. Chan watched, curious, and almost protested as the other man moved. He just let Felix do whatever though. Your legs were spread to sling over Chan's, holding them open. Felix's hands came to your inner thighs, spreading you further and he marveled at your folds straining to take Chan's massive cock. Your entire body jerked when he flicked his tongue at your swollen clit, his tongue lightly brushing over the other's dick. The man's arms tightened a bit around you as you slumped into him further, and with one more flick of Felix's tongue, you fell apart again. At this point, your cunt was burning from the overstimulation, but your boyfriend knew if you got over the crest of pain, you could just keep on going. After your spasms went away, he sat back to just watch again, nodding to Chan.

"Ready, baby girl? Want daddy to fuck ya good?" His hand came to rest under your jaw, putting just enough pressure for you to feel it but not restricting your airway.

"Please!" You mewled, head lolling back and forth. His other hand was still on your stomach, and Felix put his hands on your hips to help, lifting you slightly and pressing you back down as Chan fucked up. You gasped, your cunt stung from the friction, but the pain was so good as the man behind you railed you. It was a good thing Felix was okay with Chan joining, you thought on later, because you didn't think you could live never taking him again. You were definitely a size queen and Felix marveled at you taking his friend like a champ.

"Ah, fuck, (Y/N)~" Chan was getting close, and he looked to your boyfriend, asking permission. Felix looked at your fucked out expression.

"Cum in her." he told Chan, and he got as deep as he could and let go. Your stinging core piqued, the pain burning into pleasure, and you weren't sure if Chan filling you with his sticky cum was what put you over or Felix's voice.

"Oh, good girl~ Fuck!" The man moaned himself as he felt his cum overflow from your cunt and drip down past his balls and onto the bedding. Felix was still rock hard, not having came or been touched at all that night, but he was fine dealing with himself in the shower if you were too tired.

"Felix!" You reached for him again and he came back to you.

"What do you need, pumpkin?"

"You…" You pouted and he smiled bright.

"I don’t think your cute little cunt can handle more." He cooed and Chan huffed playfully. He was still hard and really didn't want to pull out anyway.

"Let’s turn her around." He suggested to the younger man. You keened a bit when they moved you around. When your chest met Chan's, he sunk back into you, the new position and angle let him sink deeper. You shivered, falling into him and he laughed.

"You're so cute." He praised. He was content to let you warm his cock, watching Felix scooch forward. His fingers wrapped around the plug, and you breathed as if through muscle memory as he pulled it out. It clattered onto the floor from his tossing it. Could your body handle him filling your ass with Chan in your pussy? Guess you all would find out soon enough. Your breathing shifted when you felt Felix's cock at your pucker, he barely pressed the tip in as he took the lube Chan had reached for on the nightstand. Drizzling more onto himself, he started to ease inside you. You shivered, your back hole welcoming the familiar intrusion.

"So good, pumpkin." Your boyfriend praised. To get in you best, he had to swing his leg over Chan’s, but he didn't mind. Chan helped him adjust you some and they both let you adjust to being completely full. Each breath you pressed out carried a slight moan and your little noises brought grins to both of the men's faces. After witnessing everything, as well as your even-tighter-than-usual canal clenching his cock, Felix knew he wouldn't last long. Might be for the best anyway considering your physical and mental state. Your nails weekly dug into the skin of Chan's chest where you laid as Felix pumped his hips. His thrusts were short and deep, and your body rocking slightly brushed your sensitive clit against the skin of Chan's pelvis. A defined vein that led down to his cock gave just enough of a differing pressure as you rocked.

"Okay, love, I'll fill you good than you can take a bath. Daddy and I will take care of you tonight and tomorrow." Felix picked the pace of his thrusts up and Chan hissed some as your cunt clenched hard and your nails carved crescents into his skin.

"(Y/N), be a good girl for daddy and cum." Chan's words were all you needed, and you came one more time, Felix spraying your insides white. From the tight clench and the wait, Chan was sensitive himself and you cumming made him fall apart with you two. Even more jizz spurted out from where your body met Chan's and more of the sticky goo leaked from where Felix was inside you. You were a complete mess and Felix wouldn't have it any other way. Your consciousnesses faded, your eyes slipping closed, and the two men praised you for doing such a good job for them. Deciding to just clean you up with a towel for now, Felix helped you rest on your side as you slept, leaving the blanket off you, your skin still hot. Your boyfriend petted your hair as Chan took a quick shower and then they switched places.

"Are you sure?" the eldest asked, stroking your hair softly when Felix sat on the bed behind you.

"You love her, right?"

"I-I…" Chan swallowed hard.

"Hyung?"

"…yes."

"I didn't want to admit it before, but she likes you a lot. I know though that she loves me too…I think she deserves the world, but why not throw the moon in along with it?" Felix meant every word. He loved you so much that he wanted you to be loved twice as much, if not more.

"Well, guess I should change my name to Moon, huh?" Chan huffed and Felix rolled his eyes at the horrible pun.

"Just promise me when you two get married that I can be the best man." The eldest continued and your boyfriend smiled down at you.

"Of course. Wouldn't have anyone else."

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