#you can tell i am new to this because i arranged them in the wrong speaking order. let’s all practice our right to left reading

[tiffanyachings]

it would have been very beautiful. camilla would have had to cook (horrible bone soup)

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 20 - Gunplay]

Pairing: Gangster!Jungkook x f.Reader

Kinks: Dom!Jungkook, sub!Reader, arranged marriage, gunplay, oral to a gun, big cock, praise, body worship, nippleplay, strength kink, size kink, tattoos & piercings, thigh riding, spanking, dirty talk, sexy possessiveness, multiple orgasms (f. & m.receiving), creampies, squirting, overstimulation, rough & passionate sex in front a window, she rides him, the trope of “this is the first night where the sex feels real and not like a marital duty”

Wordcount: 10.4k

a/n: i feel...feelings. too many of them. most of carnal nature. some of deeply emotional nature. this story did too many things to me, holy fuck i need air. besties, Kinktober hits different because we can be totally unhinged together and i am loving the adventure ❤

You fucked up. You are aware that you did. Five men are dead, slaughtered because you trusted the wrong person. Seven barely escaped death and the rest were either hurt or pissed. 

Taehyung’s with you, cleaning the cut on your cheek a broken bottle left. You think someone threw it at you, but you blacked out before you could see who did it. 

“Hurts”, you groan. 

“I know, sorry. It must be done”, Taehyung answers you, replacing the blood soaked cotton swap with a new one. Soaked in disinfectant, he presses it against your wound, eliciting another hiss of discomfort from you.

“So what are we gonna tell him?” Jimin asks the question the rest of the group was too afraid to ask. 

“The truth, what else?” Namjoon says dryly, fingers busy with stopping the bleeding on his arm by pressing a cloth to it.

“Yeah and risk her getting shot? Nah thanks”, Seokjin says, shaking his head. 

“People died”, Namjoon hisses, eyes lowered in anger, “Yoongi’s still out and guess shit about how Hoseok’s surgery is going.” 

“She didn’t shoot them did she?”

“She could have very well pulled the fucking trigger.”

You avoid looking at Namjoon, knowing very well that he would probably kill you with just a look if he could. You understand him. You’re angry at yourself as well. You weren’t careful enough and let the details of the meeting meet the wrong people, ending in the cops busting you in the middle of the deal. 

“Where is she?!” Jungkook’s loud voice cuts through the air like thunder.

Your stomach twists in fear. He’s back.

“Oh fuck”, Seokjin gasps, looking at the opened door and regretting not having closed it. 

“Where is she? Where’s my fucking wife?” Jungkook screams outside.

You exchange a panicky look with the others. 

"Is she in there?" Jungkook spits, voice sounding as if he is just by the door.

“Sir wait, they aren’t done-“, one of your guards stumbles into the room and falls forcefully. 

“What the hell?” Jimin exclaims, staring at the groaning guard.

Seconds later the reason for his fall appears in the door frame. 

Jungkook. Black hair messy, eyes dangerously dark in anger and tattooed knuckles bruised from the punch he just threw.

“Don't fucking talk to me like that, cunt”, he spits at the guard.

“I-I'm sorry Sir”, the guard stutters, holding his aching cheek.

“Tzt.”

Jungkook rolls his shoulders and lifts his head, eyes running over the room and landing on you.

They lower in anger, head tilting to the side in this distinct almost hunter like manner Jungkook always gets when he is in the mood for carnage.

“You wanna fucking tell me what happened?” he hisses, voice calm but you know better than to trust it. You know what Jungkook does with traitors and you are currently the main suspect for the leak.

“I didn’t know Yeonseok would leak that shit”, you say. 

“Don't give me that bullshit, you knew exactly what kinda fuck he is”, Jungkook spits. 

“I didn’t. Listen. I really didn’t. If I had, I’d have shot him.”

“Bullshit. You’re working for them. Ugly fucking undercover pig”, Jungkook growls, reaching for the side. Hidden behind his suit jacket and strapped into a belt, his gun is waiting to be used.

“Hey Kook”, Jimin’s on his feet and in front of Jungkook instantly, “I believe her. She didn’t know Yeonseok was the snitch. We thought Lee would leak the shit, but he got shot. Nobody suspected Yeonseok, especially not ___.”

"I don't believe this", Jungkook growls, taking a step closer with his dark eyes never leaving your face. Jimin stops him, strong hand on Jungkook’s heaving up and down chest and muscles tensing under the turtleneck.

“Think”, he insists, “why would she work for them? The fucking pigs killed her brother, the last thing she'd do is kiss their fucking boots.”

Jungkook fights Jimin, lips curled back in an angry huff of air.

“Let alone betray you. She’s your wife. She chose you, didn’t she?” Jimin adds, finally managing to change Jungkook’s gaze from you to him. 

His hand slips from his gun, he stops fighting Jimin. Now standing still.

“She didn’t choose shit”, Jungkook spits and pushes himself away from Jimin. He walks to the door in heavy steps, “clean this fucking shit up once you’re done”, he hisses. 

“Where are you going?” Seokjin asks. 

Jungkook looks over his shoulder.

“Making sure Yoongi’s got someone with him if he decides to actually bite the dust”, he spits, eyes landing on you for one last deadly look, “fucking shitshow”, he whispers and turns to leave. 

The front door slams closed seconds later. 

“Well fuck”, you press out, sinking in on yourself, “thanks man.”

“Don’t mention it”, Jimin answers you, currently helping the guard back up on his feet.

The air is tense in the room. You all know very well that this wasn’t over yet. 

The penthouse is empty when Jungkook returns. Safe for the guards out front, everyone else left. 

You didn’t. Obviously, because you live here even if the downstairs was poisoned by work. Upstairs maybe a little bit of home was present. Stuff like memoirs or sweet pictures of you and your husband weren’t present, but at least the lingering stench of blood, drugs and metal wasn’t present upstairs. 

You don’t know if you loved your husband. You are pretty sure he doesn’t love you. Your marriage is a business contract between two wealthy crime families, making sure their money gets secured. You accepted, Jungkook accepted and that was the story of your love. Sex was okay because he's obsessed with perfection and that goes for sex too. Passion or tenderness obviously wasn’t present during those moments, because Jungkook sees sex as much of a task as his other things. Torture, fighting, murder, bringing in money with little loss. Those things have to be calculated and follow a certain pattern to be perfect in his eyes. The same goes for sex. Intimacy wasn’t present either, safe for the moments where he walked around naked in front of you or told you to show off a set of lingerie for him, but that was only because you were married and he saw those acts as duty. Romance was present once. You remember it clearly. It was a Sunday. The 16th of July two years ago. The sun was warm and the organisation was quiet for once. Jungkook took you out for ice cream that day and told you that he thought the dress you wore was pretty. You saw him smile that day and thought that he almost looked innocent when he smiled. You never saw him smile again since that day.

You don’t know if you loved Jungkook and you know he didn’t love you. But that was okay because you didn’t expect him to.

You were sleeping when Jungkook came home. You wake when he has already showered. He is sitting by the foot end of your bed, legs spread and arms resting on his thighs so he can make his lower arms tangle between them. He is shirtless, giving view to his tattooed torso. His lower body is covered by a towel, his hair is tied into a messy bun. He is overlooking the city. The Empire, which one day will be his' with you as the ruling Queen by his side. That is if he doesn’t decide to murder you tonight.

“Husband?” you try quietly, hoping for a moment that he won’t hear you. 

He inhales loudly, straightening his back.

“Go back to sleep”, he says coldly, eyes never once breaking away from the city. It looks so small from your bedroom window, but this is only an illusion made by just how high up you are.

You often walk in on him jerking off right by the windows and with his hand in a punishing rhythm. Jungkook fucking loves standing by the windows and getting off to how small and tiny everything looks. The king standing on his throne and looking down at his suspects. He fucking cums like crazy to that thought.

“How is Yoongi?” you ask him.

“Alive for now.”

“That's such a relief to hear”, you say honestly.

“Mhm.”

“And the others? How did the surgeries go?”

“Good. They’ll all live.”

“That’s amazing, I’m so relieved right now.”

“Mhm.”

You sit up to crawl to him. You snake your arms around him, making him tense up and lift his head proudly. You aren’t wearing much more than panties and a bra. Not very comfortable, but you thought that maybe if you dressed yourself in Jungkook’s favourite set tonight, he won’t kill you the instant he laid eyes on you. It seems to be working, given how you are still breathing. 

The little clothing results in your naked stomach coming into contact with his naked back. His skin feels cold in comparison to yours. 

“Tae and Jin captured Yeonseok. He tried to take one of the boats to flee to Jeju. Did you hear?” you tell him.

“Yes.”

“What will happen to him now?”

“Why? So you can save him? Well, too fucking late. I already skinned the bastard. Cut off his cock too, made him eat it cause it’s what lying fucking pigs deserve”, he says almost nonchalantly. 

You feel your stomach twist in disgust. You mask the gag you wanted to do by inhaling deeply, dancing your hands to Jungkook’s sculpted pecs. You don’t really want to touch him right now, this is solely to fight for your life.

“That's good to hear”, you whisper, kissing his shoulder, “I would have done far worse to him.”

“Tzt yeah sure”, Jungkook scoffs, moving away from you.

You study his face as best as you can see it from this position. His brows are creasing, eyes as dark as the night and lips turned downwards into a frown. You rest your chin on his shoulder, hands coming to rest on his pecs. His heart is racing like crazy in his chest, letting you know that despite his calm exterior he was in utter distress inside. You rub slow circles on his skin, making him react by flexing his pecs because his nipples are sensitive and the touch is affecting him.

“I'm loyal to you, husband”, you say, trailing your kisses to his neck, “please believe me.”

Jungkook rolls his head to the side, exposing his neck to your lips. You kiss his skin. He tastes like hints of his cologne. Smells like it too. 

He keeps on staring out at the city, lips pursed in anger and eyes cold. 

“And I’m loyal to the organisation. It’s all that matters to me”, you say, taking his pierced ear between your teeth to nibble on it softly.

Jungkook closes his eyes, relaxing his brows. You don’t see it happening as you are too busy licking and kissing his piercings. You know that he’s into that shit.

“I'd suffocate you”, he rasps.

You try not to falter in your kisses, hoping that he can’t feel your heart speeding up in fear. 

“I'd want you struggling and fighting for life. I'd do it with my bare hands to feel your last breath leave you.”

Only now do you notice the gun tangling from his fingers. Did he bring this here to shoot you? Are you currently kissing your murderer's neck? Is that why his heart is racing? Because deep down he is nervous to kill his wife, but he knows that he has to?

“That's how I'd kill you if you ever betrayed me”, he says, eyes flitting to the distorted version of your bodies in the window’s reflection. Him towering over the city and you holding him close. The image could be beautiful if the air wasn’t so tense and you cared so very little for each other. He locks eyes with you. 

You gulp, barely controlling your breathing. This is it. This is the moment you’re looking into death's eyes.

“How's your cheek?” Jungkook however asks, flustering you.

“It's… it won’t scar”, you say, stumbling back when Jungkook turns. 

He pulls you back by grabbing you by your chin. He moves your head from left to right, dark eyes glued to the now bandaged cut on your cheek. 

“Did you see who did that to you?” he asks. 

“No, it happened way too fast.”

“Mhm”, Jungkook brushes his thumb over the band aid, “thank fuck it missed your eye.”

“Uh..yes…I guess…”

One must know that stuff like genuine worry for each other, affection and concern were nonexistent in your marriage. It is important to know so one can understand why you were so entirely flabbergasted by your husband’s concern right now. Jungkook never cares. Did seeing Yoongi almost die tonight affect him so much that he is becoming affectionate now? Or is this his way of saying goodbye before he finally kills you? 

Jungkook pulls you closer, making you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut in fear. His strong hand lands on the back of your head.

His kisses your bandaged cheek.

Your breath trembles as it leaves you.

Your eyes open quickly, locking with his’. They are still dark, racing between yours and looking almost hypnotising from the close proximity you and him find yourselves in.

Jungkook moves in and kisses your lips as he keeps on staring at you, fingers tightening more and more on the back of your head.

You sigh shakily, squeezing your eyes shut because you can’t bear to look into his eyes when his lips claim yours so angrily. His teeth bite your lower lip, his tongue licks over it, his lips suck harshly. You reach for him for support, nails scratching down his arm as softly as possible.

The kiss breaks, strings of saliva keep you connected but they break just seconds later, now covering your skin. You peel your eyes open, meeting his unfaltering gaze. Your hands slip from him again.

He can see the uncertainty and confusion on your face, but he won’t call you out on it.

“You and your loyalty are mine, don’t forget that”, he rasps.

“I won’t”, you whisper, “and I never did”, you add just in case it wasn’t clear to him yet.

Jungkook slips his hand from your head and turns back to the city. He is playing with his gun mindlessly, eyes racing over the millions and millions of lights down below. You are sitting, daring not to move let alone breathe. The air shouldn’t be so tense anymore, but it is. Jungkook cared for your cheek, kissed you and told you his version of an I Love You. You don’t know what is happening. This isn’t your husband.

You let your eyes flit to the reflection of your bodies, coming to the scary revelation that Jungkook wasn’t staring at the city, but at you. He twists the gun in his fingers, making the safety click once.

You gulp. Now you understand. This was his goodbye. His last attempt to be affectionate before he shoots you.

“I’m sorry”, you whisper shakily, eyes burning in tears.

Jungkook acknowledges you with a cock of his right brow, outlining the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He lowers his head, eyes locking on the gun. His thumb runs over the cold metal, his jaw clenches.

“Stand up”, he finally says.

You follow with shaking knees, biting down on your tongue in order not to start sobbing.

Jungkook grips your wrist and tugs you right in front of him. You try not to squeak, let alone breathe too quickly.

He lets go of your wrist once he is happy with your position, placing both his hands on your waist. The coldness of the gun feels unbearable on your skin, digging into your flesh and leaving deep shivers behind.

He dances his hands up your torso. His thumbs are on your tummy, tracing the pearl netting which is spanning itself over your upper stomach.

You don’t dare to look down, eyes glued to the mirror behind your bed. There was another mirror right above your bed because Jungkook is obsessed with watching himself when you fuck. He also fucking loves it that you have to stare at yourself when he’s got you on your back, folded in half and with his huge cock drilling into your puffy pussy.

Jungkook leans in, connecting his lips with your tummy.

You can’t stop yourself from gasping or flinching for that matter. You bite down on your lower lip to stop more noises from slipping out of you, shifting your gaze even further up the wall just so you can’t accidentally look down at him.

His tongue darts out just to lick a thick stripe up your stomach until the position naturally breaks the contact.

Your skin prickles where he licked it, the air of the room feels ice cold while your body is burning up. All of this isn’t your husband. All of this swerves so far out of the patterns he made up for sex and you don’t know what that means.

“You’re so fucking sexy”, he rasps, lifting his head and realising that you aren’t looking at all. He furrows his brows, clenching his jaw. Why aren’t you looking? You are supposed to look when he’s worshipping you.

“Get on your fucking knees”, he orders in a growl.

You follow instantly, folding your hands on your lap and looking at the ground. Jungkook tilts your head up with the gun under your chin, forcing you to lock eyes with him even if that was the last thing you currently want to do.

“Why are you avoiding eye contact?” he asks, pupils dilated in anger.

“I-I…I’m sorry”, you stutter, widening your eyes for good measures.

Jungkook studies your features and your body. You carry fear in your eyes, your thumbs fumble with each other secretly, your thighs are pressed together in nervousness. Jungkook looks at the gun under your chin and understands.

He pulls it away and with a press, releases the magazine. It falls into his palm. He twirls it between his fingers and shows it to you. 

Your eyes widen in shock.

It’s empty.

Jungkook presses the button to let you know the barrel was empty too.

Your eyes flit up to Jungkook’s face, racing restlessly in an attempt to make sense of all of this.

Jungkook slams the magazine back into the gun and takes your face between his fingers. He tugs you closer, leaning in to meet you in the middle.

“This isn’t your fucking punishment, get that outta your head”, he hisses.

“O-okay”, you stutter, feeling your heart skip a few beats from having him so close. His breath smells like minty toothpaste.

“You think I’m gonna shoot you? Like a coldblooded murderer?” he squeezes your cheeks, “I told you how I’d kill you, didn’t I? You think I’d not already have done it if I wanted you dead? That I’d let you sleep while I was taking a shower? No”, he moves closer, brushing his lips against yours to whispers darkly, “if I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. Wife.”

“Oh”, you press out, shoulders sagging in relief and eyes spilling tears. He forgave you. Jungkook forgave you. You aren’t going to die tonight. The gun is solely a prop in some sick play of power and sex.

Jungkook wipes your tears away with a rough thumb, taking your cheeks back between his fingers afterwards.

“Don’t cry. I’m not gonna hurt you. You know that I don’t do that”, he whispers softly.

"I know", you get out, sniffling like crazy to get rid of the desire to sob.

"Good", he says and with one push to your lips feeds you his thumb.

You suck on it instantly, having done so a thousand times before. That shit is familiar to you. Having to suck off Jungkook’s fingers is a routine to you.

You were so ready to do it for minutes, but Jungkook already pulls out after nothing but five eager sucks, leaving you to chase him with a trembling sigh.

He straightens up and pulls the gun back into your vision. He holds it tightly, positioning it right between his thighs in a way so that the barrel would face the ceiling.

“Suck it like you’d suck my cock”, he orders.

You hesitate, looking up at him with confused eyes.

“Did I stutter? Suck my fucking gun”, he hisses, placing his hand at the back of your head to push you closer.

You eye the cold gun, gulping nervously. You know that it was empty and safe, but the thought still scares you. Sucking his cock is easy because his shape is familiar to your lips and tongue. But the gun is new. He never asked you to do that before. Of course he didn’t, because it wasn’t part of the pattern on normal nights.

Jungkook tightens his grip on your head, giving you an impatient push. There is no going back. You scoot closer, placing your hands over his’ and lowering your lips to the gun. You kiss the tip first like you would do his cock, feeling his fingers twitch on the back of your head. You can’t see it but Jungkook is staring down at you without ever blinking, frowning but with his chest heaving up and down quickly.

You close your lips around the barrel and sink down slowly.

Jungkook exhales loudly and opens his thighs just slightly, acting as if you finally took in his cock. Even his fingers tighten on your head.

The gun tastes weird. Metal and grease. You are pretty sure that you shouldn’t have those things in your mouth, but you won’t say anything. You slip off of it for a catch of breath, getting pushed back down instantly.

“Don’t stop”, he orders in a rasp, moving your head up and down slowly, “fucking suck it like you mean it.”

You moan for him, squeezing his hand. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your breathing is ragged. You don’t suck on it like you would his cock, merely letting the barrel glide over your tongue. It hits the back of your throat with each movement, tickling out your gag reflex more and more.

“There we go, so fucking good”, Jungkook rasps above you, staring down at you with blown-out pupils. Your lips look so good wrapped around the black metal. They move so nicely as you fuck your face with it.

The barrel is a lot smaller than Jungkook’s cock. Both in length and in girth. It is an easy task to have it in your mouth, even if the square shape and hardness is something to get used to. Other than that however, the size in itself isn’t all that bad. Sometimes when you suck Jungkook’s cock, your jaw hurts afterwards because of his size, so the gun is a welcome change. Even if the taste needs some getting used to.

It hits the back of your throat and finally triggers your gag reflex. You gag loudly, slipping off of it to prevent the worst case scenario. You wheeze and gasp for air, swallowing heavily.

“You sound so sweet”, Jungkook lulls, caressing the back of your head, “lick it for me.”

You place your tongue at the base of the gun, brushing against his fingers accidentally. Jungkook takes a deep breath in reaction, moving his hips in a slow squirm. Just once and then he is in control again.

You moan as you finally drag your tongue up the barrel, licking it as if you were licking the big vein on the underside of his cock. It feels so different than when you do it to him. Hard metal, unmoving unlike his vein which is always pulsating and throbbing when you lick it. You miss those sensations, craving them against the tip of your tongue.

“There we go, that’s it”, Jungkook whispers, voice shaky in arousal, “lick the tip, go on.”

You follow, swirling your tongue over the tip and moaning oh so hungrily.

“That’s it, fuck”, Jungkook tenses his thighs, relaxing them in a tremble, “such a good girl, fuck.”

Whimpering, you press the flat of the tongue right against the tip, grinding it back and forth quickly. Jungkook fucking loves when you do that to his tip, reacting with a sharp intake of breath now that he watches you do it to the gun.

“Fucking amazing, that’s fucking amazing”, he praises, voice raspy and just slightly lulled, “feels so fucking good, doesn’t it?”

You mewl, nodding your head. And you mean it. Maybe it’s Jungkook’s praise and the utter pleasure in his voice, but licking his gun is starting to genuinely feel fucking good. You dig the tip of your tongue into the bullet hole, eliciting a deep growl from Jungkook.

“That’s it”, he whispers breathily, hand slipping from the back of your head to cup your cheek, “fuck, that’s it, doll.”

The nickname sends heat to your pussy. Honestly moaning, you take the gun back inside, letting it sink into your mouth until you can feel it at the back of your throat. It is a lot more difficult to get it inside than Jungkook’s cock. Not because of its size but because of its unmoving character. Jungkook’s cock bends, no matter how hard and swollen you’ve gotten him, there is still a slight bend to it, which makes it easier to get it inside. But the gun doesn’t bend, forcing you to bend yourself instead to get it inside.

You keen, dropping tears onto your cheeks. A needy shake courses through  you, your left hand slips from his hand just to grab his thigh instead. His skin is hot as fire, his muscles are so hard under your palm. You squeeze desperately, whimpering around the gun. Somehow holding his strong thigh is helping you stay grounded. Maybe it even soothes you.

“Such a good girl”, Jungkook praises, slipping his hand back to your head. He grabs a bundle of your hair and twists softly, “Is that tasty? Mhm? Do you like how my gun tastes?”

You break away from it just to gaze up at him, almost forgetting what you wanted to say to him in the process because of his cock. You look at it for just a second too long. Completely hard and swollen, it’s standing against his toned stomach, having escaped the towel. It is even leaking, tip looking so wet and sticky. Holy fuck. Your pussy clenches around nothing. Holy fuck, he’s so hard.

“I…” you clear your throat, breaking your eyes away from his cock to look into his eyes, “…I love it”, you whisper shakily.

Jungkook drags his thumb over your cheek to wipe the tears away, eyes lowering in arousal.

“Yeah? You love it? More than my cock?”

You gulp.

“Tell me.”

“N-no your c-cock’s better”, you stutter, hoping that this is what he wanted to hear.

Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle, lips curling into a cocky smirk.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say”, he rasps, squeezing your chin softly, “take off my towel.”

You scramble to your knees and reach for the knot. Jungkook rests back on his hands, having the drool covered gun resting beside him for now. He watches you with a quickly moving chest as you undo the knot and pull the towel open. Not that a lot of new stuff gets exposed because of it, give how his cock’s already been freed before that. Only his neatly trimmed pubes and heavy balls see the new light of the day, hypnotising you.

You may not love Jungkook and, hell, Jungkook may not love you, but the sexual attraction you both feel for each other was sometimes unbearable. Jungkook’s a sexy, attractive man, even if he sometimes scares you. He never hurt you in your years together, so you have no idea why you are scared of him, but you are. You are scared and so goddamn, achingly attracted to his body.

Especially tonight, because Jungkook is disregarding every single pattern you established over the years and that shit turns you on like nothing else.

“There we go, good girl”, Jungkook praises, straightening back up. He cups your cheek and makes you look up at him.

You swallow heavily, hands falling to his thighs just so you can hold something of him.

He smiles.

Jungkook fucking smiles.

For the second time ever since you’ve became his’, Jungkook is showing you his smile.

And it’s flustering you so much that your breath actually hitches in your throat.

“You’re such a pretty girl”, he whispers, tracing your lips.

You exhale shakily, feeling your head pound from those overwhelming feelings in your chest. Jungkook is smiling. He called you pretty. Jungkook called you pretty and is smiling. Holy fuck.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, studying your frown and glassy eyes.

“Nothing”, you barely get the word out.

“Mhm”, he hums, smile slowly fading into a relaxed expression. He lets go of your cheek just so he can dance his hand down to your throat to hold it as gently as possible, “I want you to take off your bra.”

You reach behind yourself without hesitation. Jungkook keeps your eyes on him not through force but through sheer attraction. Your heart’s racing like crazy.

The clasp opens easily. You tug the straps from your shoulders and let the piece of clothing fall onto your lap.

He looks down at your newly exposed chest, slipping his hand from your throat for it.

“Hm”, he hums, nodding his head with a frown on his face. It’s the same frown he gets when he likes food.

Jungkook places his hands over your tits, making you arch your back just to chase him. His palm is slightly callused from fighting, but his touch is tender. He gathers them and squeezes strongly. The sensation crawls down your body and makes your pussy so goddamn wet in your panties.

“Pretty”, he rasps, moving his fingers over your tits until he can pinch your nipples, tugging at them until you whimper. He smirks lazily, massaging them as his eyes flit back to your face just to take in how your lips part in a gasp. “you’re the prettiest, baby.”

“Kook”, you whimper, hands sliding to his inner thighs and eyes burning in new tears. It feels so good to be called baby by him. He only did that during your ice cream date and ever since that day, all you ached for was for another repetition of the nickname.

Jungkook dries your tears with the back of his hand, eyes softening slightly.

“Why do you keep crying, mhm?” he asks.

“I, I don’t know”, you stutter, sniffling like crazy.

"Do you not want me to play with you, mhm?" 

"Please don’t stop", you breathe, meaning it honestly.

“Mhm”, he hums and gives your cheek a soft pinch, “stand up for me”, he orders.

You struggle so much. He’s got you so weak that you don’t want to get up. So he helps you, placing his strong hands on your waist to tug you to your feet. He stands up as well once you’re safely on your feet, holding your waist and stepping closer. Like this, he is towering over you, making you lift your head just so you can keep looking into his eyes. He doesn’t feel scary right now. Just strong and like he’d protect you from the world. The feeling is so foreign to you that you want to scream, but you can’t bring yourself to produce any other sound than soft whimpers and shaky intakes of air.

“Now you wanna keep looking at me, don’t you?” he speaks softly, eyes racing between yours.

You nod your head.

“Touch me, baby”, Jungkook whispers.

You place your hands on his chest, eliciting a shaky exhale from him.

He steps closer, hands sliding down to your hips to pull you into him. His head tilts down, nose brushing against yours.

“There we go”, he breathes, “do you like how I feel?”

“Yes”, you sigh, meaning it honestly.

“Baby”, Jungkook whispers, cupping your cheeks to pull you into a deep kiss. His head is tilted to the side, his shoulders are lifted to his ears, his lips move slowly yet desperately against yours.

You stare at him in shock. He’s got his eyes closed. Jungkook’s got his fucking eyes closed as he kisses you. The kiss is real to him. He’s actually feeling it.

“Fuck”, you press out in a shaky sigh, hooking your arms behind his neck to pull him close. Your eyes fall closed and your tongue finally chases his’ in a slow yet needy rhythm.

Jungkook moans, slipping his left hand from your cheek just so he can snake his arm around your waist and press you against his chest. Naked tits against naked pecs. Hot skin against hot skin. Cock against your stomach and hearts beating quickly in both your chests. All of this so far away from the patterns, that they aren’t even on the same map anymore. And you fucking love it, dragging your nails over his undercut until you touch his bun. With sloppy tugs, you open it. His hair falls down in messy waves, getting gathered and twisted by you.

Jungkook keens almost needily, lifting you easily. He isn’t just working out to be ready for whatever fight his life throws at him, but also to lift you whenever you want him to. He never did it before, but all he’s thinking about is lifting you when you’re both naked and lost in a kiss. Your weight makes the muscles in his arms shift and tense, his abs flex right against your pussy. Jungkook loves how you whimper into the kiss and how small you seem to make yourself just to fit into his arms easier.

Your legs snake around his waist, squeezing it tightly. You hate that you’re still wearing your panties. All you want to feel is his skin against your pussy. You’re so fucking into him right now. You need him like crazy.

The truth was that Jungkook is so goddamn vulnerable tonight. He is shaken to the core from everything that happened today, aching for affection he is very well aware you probably have to work very hard for to gather for him. He’s aware that you don’t love him, even if he can’t imagine his life without you. And today he had to. He had to imagine how life would be without you, because he almost lost you to a misunderstanding. He was so angry at you at first and so goddamn hurt. Not you, he thought, not his fucking wife. His heart broke when he heard that you were the one leaking the details, because that meant he had to kill you. Then it ached in confusion when he had to decide whether or not he could still trust you, all while he had to be there for Yoongi. The man, he considers as his own fucking brother. He came home, exhausted from crying over Yoongi way too much and skinning the real traitor, expecting you to have fled, only to see you sleeping in your shared bed and if Jungkook hadn’t been so dirty from murdering Yeonseok, he’d have climbed right into bed with you just to hug you against his chest. Your refusal to flee, even if that meant that he could potentially kill you, was all the proof he needed to know that your loyalty for him never faltered.

And now he’s a mess. Going from anger, heartbreak, confusion, worry and relief left him so goddamn needy for affection. He’d never tell you, because he possibly couldn’t share his feelings with you, but he fucking aches for you like nothing else. Even if it’s just pretend from your side.

He walks to the big windows, pressing you right against them even if that makes you gasp from the cold. The kiss still doesn’t break however, only deepening as your limbs seem to pull him closer and closer. Jungkook presses himself against you, moaning right with you as this makes your pussy press against his cock. He rocks his hips slowly, forcing his cock to glide between his stomach and your clothed pussy.

“Fuck”, he croaks, lips faltering in the kiss.

You chase him, moaning his name.

“I need you”, he gets out, cockhead grinding against your clothed clit and making your fingers scratch down his undercut.

“Need you too”, you answer him.

There is a chaise lounge to your right. Jungkook takes the necessary step and sits down on it, right on its edge. Your body hits his lap, hips chasing his muscular thigh in a needy roll.

He lets the kiss break for the sake of looking at you. His strong hands are on your thighs, your knees are on each side of his hips. His eyes are half-lidded and heavy in arousal.

“Lift your hips”, he orders and you follow.

Jungkook hooks his fingers in your panties and twists the fabric. In one rough tug, he’s got them ripped from your body, leaving behind burning skin and a racing heart. 

“Those were your favourites”, you whisper.

“Doesn’t matter”, he dismisses you, throwing the ruined panties on the ground. He grips your hips and pulls them back onto his lap. He rocks them back and forth slowly, making your wet pussy grind right against his thigh.

Your breath trembles, fingers twisting in his long hair. His skin is so soft and hot, his muscles are so defined.

“You’re already dripping”, he says, voice deep in arousal. He wanted to get you wet on his cock and now has to live with the knowledge that you’re already wet for him. He’s so fucking into you, it’s insane.

“Yeah”, you sigh, chasing his thigh desperately.

“Fuck baby”, he presses out, gripping you by the back of your neck, “get on my fucking cock. Now”, he growls, pupils dilated to the point where his eyes appear black.

You follow without hesitation, lifting your soaked pussy from his thigh just to shimmy up his lap and align yourself with his cock. You grind your hole against his tip twice and then Jungkook squeezes your hips in warning, eyes lowering dangerously.

You let yourself drop.

“Oh”, you croak, head falling against his shoulder and body trembling. He’s so fucking big. It’s stretching you out so much.

“There we go. Take that cock”, he rasps, rubbing the small of your back soothingly.

Inch by inch he’s gliding into you, making you feel fuller and fuller. He barely manages to bottom out, eliciting the shakiest moan from you. He growls against your skin, hands slipping to your ass to squeeze it angrily, “that’s it. Your pussy’s so fucking good. Move.”

You circle your hips slowly, whimpering into him and trying to close your legs even if that is impossible in the position and only ends with you squeezing his hips. You feel like bursting.

“Jun-Jungkook”, you get out.

“Yes, baby?” he asks.

“You’re, you’re so big.”

“I know”, he tilts your hips differently to make the breach a little easier, “do you like it, mhm?”

“Yes”, you mewl, meaning it honestly. He may be a lot and he may make you feel like you’re being ripped in half, but that shit feels so good. It feels amazing on normal days and feels like paradise tonight. You don’t want to stop, you want to keep rutting against him until your pussy is finally stretched enough and stops burning.

“Yeah? You do?” Jungkook forces your head to lift with his hand on your neck. He moves his hips, basking in the widening of your eyes and the clenching of your wet pussy.

“K-Kook”, you squeak, brows furrowing in pleasure.

“There we go, relax. I know I’m big, but you’re my girl, aren’t you?”

You nod your head, gasping for air when his cock fills you up completely again. And he leaves you again, making you chase his girth instantly.

“Yeah you are”, Jungkook slips his thumb to your throat, keeping it resting there without applying pressure, “and my girl’s made for my cock, isn’t she?”

You nod your head, feeling new arousal seep out of you. Jungkook never called you his girl before. It feels so good now that he does.

“Tell me baby”, he orders.

“I’m made for your cock”, you whisper, pussy throbbing around his cock.

“And why is that?” he stresses, feeling you tremble on his lap and loving the shit out of it.

“Because I’m your girl”, you croak, falling around his neck a moment later to kiss him.

Jungkook gasps, hand slipping from your throat to bury itself in your hair at the back of your head. He moans, tensing his thighs desperately when you finally begin to actually move on his cock. Quick movements up and down and skilled circles whenever he’s balls deep inside you. It sounds wet and nasty, filling both of you with the desire to keep going and fucking going.

Tongues tangle, hands grope desperately, hips rut against each other. Breathing is hard when you’re kissing so much and the sex feels so fucking good. Hot and addicting. So without any kind of patterns and rules. So honest and fucking real. There is no order in your movements, just honest desperation to get off on each other as quickly and as intensely as possible. And you don’t want this to stop. Please don’t ever let this stop.

Jungkook doesn’t want it to stop either. Breaking patterns and ignoring rules. The thought normally gives him the fucking ick. But he doesn’t care right now. He doesn’t want patterns or rules, he wants you. All of you. The unfiltered, honest you. The sex tonight is his apology. He hopes you can see that it is. His apology for ever doubting you, his apology for yelling at you in front of the others and his apology for being so goddamn needy for you. He hopes you can feel how sorry he is and how goddamn into it he is.

Jungkook breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. His shaky breath intermingles with your trembling one, his thumbs brush over your temples, his eyes are closed.

And because his eyes are closed, he doesn’t see that you have yours closed as well. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t feel so fucking sorry for being needy. Because you are fucking needy for him too. Being married is only fun when you’re desired, otherwise it leaves one with a constant ache in one’s chest. And Jungkook’s spilling over in desire tonight, soaking you with it just as much. It feels so good to fuck honestly and like you actually want to fuck.

“I’m so fucking into this”, Jungkook rasps, voice trembling because he bottoms out right this moment, feeling your pussy clench in reaction.

“Me too”, you answer him shakily, lifting yourself just to drop back down on him.

“Fuck”, he croaks and pulls you back into a deep kiss. You squeak as you weren’t ready for it, fingers squeezing his shoulders tightly and hips trembling on his lap. He is kissing you so desperately, moaning so much. It affects you so much. Jungkook isn’t vocal in bed. The penthouse is never truly empty. Guards, one of the others, some of the other goons. The penthouse is never truly empty and Jungkook decided for himself that being quiet was part of sex. Nobody needs to know how into it he is, especially not all the idiots downstairs. So to have him moan and growl and gasp so freely tonight, feels like sex in itself.

Jungkook breaks the kiss, moving just far away enough that he can look at your face. He dances his thumb over your cheek, letting his left hand slide to your hip just so he can squeeze it.

“Is this real for you?” he asks, eyes droopy and barely staying open.

You look at them and how they are filled with so much pleasure, pain and hopefulness. You nod your head honestly.

“Yeah, it’s real”, you whisper.

“Fuck”, Jungkook presses out, voice trembling and eyes squeezing shut.

He wraps his arm around you, pressing your face into the crook of his neck with his hand on the back of your head. His lips are on your shoulder, his nose is inhaling desperately. His legs broaden their stance so he can finally meet your movements. He thrusts into you deep and strong, forcing your body to tremble involuntarily.

“Kook”, you whimper, tensing up in surprise.

“I’ve got you, I’ve fucking got you”, he whispers against your skin, “fucking hold onto me, baby.”

You drag your nails up his back and neck, burying your fingers in his hair as deeply as possible. Like this your chests are almost melting with each other and his cock is so deep inside you, stomach grinding against your clit.

“That’s it”, he rasps, “that’s fucking it. Your husband’s got it. Gonna fuck you so slow, so fucking deep. Fuck”, he moans, body twitching as pleasure shoots through him. His hips thrust into you so much rougher afterwards, making your toes curl from how good it feels, “I fucking got it, got you so good. So fucking good.”

He had his eyes on his city once, thinking to himself how pretty those lights look. But not anymore. His face buried in the crook of your shoulder and his eyes are squeezed shut so tightly that his brain is coming up with its own sparkles of light. You feel like heaven around him. Maybe he’s imagining it, but he could swear that you feel so much wetter than you do on other nights.

Jungkook always makes sure that you are wet. Because getting you wet gives him an ego boost. But tonight it feels so real. So honest. It’s covering his cock and is running down his balls. He’s never experienced that sensation before, cradling you in his strong arms because of it.

You are also twitching and writhing like you never did before. They feel so honest and intense, making his own body shudder in reaction.

“I’m really close”, you whimper against his neck.

“Fuck, really?”

“Yeah”, you say and sob into him loudly, “Jungkook, please don’t stop, I’m so close”, you wail.

“Fuck baby”, Jungkook hugs you tighter, hips faltering just once before they find their rhythm again. Slow and deep, making your wet walls convulse around him rhythmically and for your smaller body to tremble against his bigger, oh so much stronger, frame. “Stop crying”, he soothes you in shaky whispers, “I’ve got you baby, don’t cry.”

“I, I can’t. It, it feels so good”, you stutter and hiccup a loud sob, “it feels so good”, you wail loudly and convulse on top of him, “oh god it’s happening”, you squeak out, hugging him with an almost scared desperation.

“It’s okay. I’m right here. Your husband’s right here, baby. Let go”, he soothes you, throwing you over the edge so intensely that for a second, you feel like passing out.

“Ah-“, you get out and then your voice cuts off and you begin shaking without having any sort of control over it.

Jungkook holds you close, rocking into you carefully because you are so tight that all other movements are impossible. He swears he’s never gotten you that good before.

Jungkook always makes sure that both of you have at least one orgasm during sex, because that is what perfection means to him. Well, at least until now it’s what it meant. Jungkook realises that this right now is so much more perfect than any well-calculated orgasm ever was. This right here feels real and makes his eyes tear up and once your aggressive tensing stops, his hips can’t seem to want to stop. He is chasing your tight pussy, putting rough desperation into his movements. The kind which makes his huge thighs slap against your ass each time he’s deep inside you and the kind which shakes you on top of him.

“Please”, you squeak out, voice so much higher than it normally is, “w-what are you doing?” you wail, “please oh god!”

Jungkook growls, pinning you against him and forcing your fleeing hips to take the fuck that way.

“Take me, I want you to take me”, he spits, feeling his heart pound in his brain.

“It’s too much”, you wail all while pulling him closer, “please, please, please.”

“Just say the word and I’ll stop”, he grunts.

You shake your head vigorously in denial, sobbing into his shoulder and soiling his skin with your tears. Why would you want to say it? Why would you want to stop this when for the first time ever, Jungkook fucks you with honesty? Why would you want to stop the kind of sensations he never gave you before?

“I knew it. I fucking knew it”, Jungkook spits and pulls your hips into him just to land a harsh spank on your ass. You scream his name, scratching his back bloody as you try to grasp him for support. 

Jungkook growls, head pounding from the pain.

“Fucking do that again, I liked it”, he orders, connecting his big hand with your ass. The heavy rings he is wearing add another layer of burn to the spank, leaving you to convulse on his cock.

“Please”, you sob, scratching his back open. The black tiger on his right shoulder blade cries red tears from your scratches, his skin burns like crazy.

“You’re so fucking good”, he growls, forcing your back to arch with a push of his arm. Like this your ass is sticking out and your pussy stretches around his cock visibly. Jungkook can see her shift around his cock. All puffy and swollen and oh so wet. The view may be a little distorted from the weak window reflection, but it’s still enough for him.

"You're so sexy, your pussy's so fucking pretty. Fuck baby", he growls and growls again. He spanks you, soaking up the view of your jiggling ass like an addict. The broken sound you make in reaction fuels him, makes his cock twice as hard as it already is.

Jungkook spanks you again, eliciting the most desperate, almost painful, sob ever. The reason for it presents itself to him just seconds later as your pussy convulses in another orgasm.

You claw at him, biting into his shoulder because nothing helps. Your pussy is so sensitive, your ass hurts so much, your body is so weak in his arms. All of this paired with the fact that Jungkook feels the same as you, makes you cum like you never orgasmed before. You convulse and shake and tremble until it gets too much for your pussy and she squirts angrily.

“Fuck yes”, Jungkook growls, reaching between your legs to rub your clit instantly. He pulls you off his cock for the sole purpose of giving your pussy the unplugged chance to squirt everywhere. And you do, oh you do. The entire floor in front of the chaise lounge gets covered in you, his cock is getting soaked in it too now that it’s right under your pussy, aching to be back inside.

"That's it. Squirt for me. Holy fuck, keep squirting baby. Fuck, you’re mine. Fucking mine", Jungkook is chanting whatever comes into his scrambled brain, rubbing your clit like a madman.

You scream and wail, twitching so aggressively that your muscles ache. You don’t even know anymore if he is making you squirt or if you’re just straight up pissing yourself. You know however that you don’t want him to stop, clawing at him with all the desperation in the world.

Jungkook moans loudly, back burning from your nails and head pounding like crazy. He’s got you fucking squirting. Holy fuck, it’s so hot. Jungkook presses his fingers tighter to your clit, rubbing her quickly.

"O-oh" you squeak, fleeing him with an arch of your back. 

Jungkook however chases you, pinning you back against him, "don’t fight it. Let it happen", he growls, pinching your clit just to rub her between his fingers.

“Stop please”, you beg now that overstimulation is eating you alive, “holy fuck oh god”, you croak, writhing atop of him as his fingers press against your clit repeatedly.

“Don’t flee”, he orders, pinning your hips back against him, "I know you’re made for this. You're my fucking girl, you’re made for this", he chants and bucks his hips up, forcing his huge cock to slip back into you.

You squeak and grow completely still on top of him. The stretch goes oh so deep and hard. Holy fuck, your pussy feels like it's going to burst.

"Please", you beg.

Jungkook knows it’s because you are so goddamn tight and his cock is huge. He runs his hands down to your ass, soothing the burning skin with slow circles. 

“Take a breath for me”, he orders, making it easier for you by grabbing your ass and parting it, which results in your pussy getting all open for him as well.

You whimper into his neck, barely taking breaths.

“There we go. I don’t wanna hurt you, baby”, Jungkook soothes you.

“You’re so big”, you mewl.

“I know. I know I am, but you can take me. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…” you keen, relaxing around him in a desperate shudder.

“Yeah you are. You’re my good girl and you’re gonna take my big cock like you’re made for it, aren’t you?”

“F-for how long?” you stutter, twisting his hair as your body once again tenses without you having any kind of control over it. You are so tight and Jungkook’s so big. It burns so addictively, almost feeling too much and yet not enough. You don’t know whether to flee or to chase him. But you do know that for however long you have to take him still, the result will be the same. You are changed. If Jungkook thinks he can go back to his calculated patterns after tonight, he is mistaken. You never ever want to have other sex with him again. Just raw, honest, rough fucking.

“Not for long anymore. I’m really fucking close”, he answers you, picking up in his movements.

He is giving you long, drawn-out strokes. The kind which makes his entire cock leave your pussy before stuffing her again within one rough second. And which make his balls slap against your ass from the sheer force. Your skin is so sensitive from the spanking that getting his heavy balls against your ass feels like addicting paradise.

“Gonna cum so good baby. Gonna cum so fucking good”, Jungkook growls against you.

“Oh god”, you whimper, hugging him tightly, “are you gonna cum inside me?”

“Yes baby. Gonna stuff you.”

“Kook”, you sob, convulsing around him in desperation, “please stuff me, please.”

“I will, gonna fill you up till you’re dripping. Hear me? Want you dripping and leaking ‘cause of me.”

His hips falter, he squeezes your hips.

“Fuck”, he spits, “it’s…difficult…”

You understand him. When he made you cum like crazy, you couldn’t move either. It must be so difficult for him to keep moving his hips. You lift your head just so you can see how he reacts when you take over for him.

You may be entirely spend and tired, but making him cum is filling you with a spurt of energy. You slam your hips down on him, lifting them quickly afterwards just to begin your ruthless bouncing up and down his huge cock.

Jungkook widens his eyes, gasping for air. He scrunches his entire face up in pleasure, head rolling back and mouth falling open.

He moans loudly, voice sounding way more high-pitched than you ever heard him sound.

His very obvious enjoyment, motivates you to speed up. You add little movements back and forth to your bounces, biting down on your tongue solely because your own thighs want to give up on you. His cock feels so good inside you.

“Baby”, Jungkook keens, falling back on the chaise lounge. His head tangles over the edge just enough that his hair is hanging over the edge in messy strands. He throws his own arm over his eyes, moaning so loudly that you can hear it echo in the penthouse.

“Jungkook”, you mewl, slamming your hands on his chest for support. Like this you can arch your back and therefore force his cock to rub right against your walls.

Jungkook lets out a sob, almost making you falter in your movements. Your widened eyes are glued to his face in shock, your pussy is clenching like crazy in arousal. Jungkook drags both his hands over his face and buries them in his own hair. Like this his arms are tensing, sweat is running down his skin and soaking his hair.

“I’m cumming”, he croaks out and sobs.

“Do it, fill me up. Mark me as yours”, you growl, slamming down on him.

“Aaah!” Jungkook screams and arches his back. He gets stuck in that position as he finally breaks, chasing you with squirms while producing the most high-pitched and desperate squeaks ever.

“That’s it. Fuck. I’m yours Kook, fucking yours.”

“Oh god”, Jungkook arches his back even more, cock releasing another wave of cum inside you, “don’t stop please don’t stop, it feels good”, he begs, thighs trembling like crazy and stomach tensing so much that he fears he’ll develop a new set of never-seen-before-abs.

You fuck him and fuck him and fuck him and Jungkook keeps on shaking in his high as his cock is pumping you full of endless cum.

“Shit”, you croak, eyes rolling back and body trembling out of control now that you realised what was actually happening, “baby”, you croak, crumbling around him a third and last time, prolonging his orgasm to fiery levels of intensity.

“I can’t stop! It, it doesn’t stop”, he wails, feeling it run out of you by now. Did he seriously never cum before? What the hell is happening to him? What are you doing to him? Jungkook is crying and shaking and cumming and he has no control over it.

“Me neither”, you sob, collapsing with him as your body gives up on you, "fuck baby, oh baby."

"I fucking love this, holy shit", Jungkook growls, meeting your sloopy movements with equally as sloppy movements.

Now you are rutting against each other like tired, yet needy animals. Arms holding each other close and heads pounding like crazy. The sloppy grinding is enough to force your endless highs to die down gradually. Slowly, but at least they are dying down. Truly, you don’t think you could have stopped on your own if your bodies didn’t actually give up on you.

The room is silent, safe for your heavy breathing and the occasional sound when a droplet of your juices is dripping onto the ground. His cock is still inside you. Hard as a rock and getting squeezed by your tight walls. In theory none of those nice juices should escape you, but with the amount of cum he pumped into you, losing a few droplets is unavoidable.

Your head is resting on his chest right where his collarbone blends into his shoulder. You can hear the heavy pounding of his heart even from here. It mixes with the sound of your own rushing blood.

You don’t quite know if you actually fell asleep or not. The minutes after tonight’s fuck are a blur in your mind. Maybe you fell asleep, it would explain why you started drooling on Jungkook.

You slurp quietly, forcing your heavy eyes to open.

Jungkook’s chest heaves up and down slowly, his heartbeat calmed down. You are shivering like crazy, feeling so goddamn cold all of a sudden. Even his cock feels different, sitting inside you all limp and soft.

Okay you definitely fell asleep. 

Groaning softly you lift yourself to your elbows.

Jungkook is very obviously sleeping. Mouth open widely and eyes closed. He looks so funny like that, making you giggle. Something you never did before, but tonight changed you. You can’t deny it. You feel fuzzy in his presence. Fuzzy and warm and maybe a little giddy.

You lift yourself even more, shimmying your hips to make his cock slip out.

Jungkook jerks awake, gripping your hips strongly to prevent it from happening.

“Don’t”, he croaks, voice heavy in sleep.

“Oh. I-“, you freeze up in the position, “I didn’t think you’d wake up.”

“I didn’t sleep”, Jungkook says, with his voice contorted in exhaustion now that he is forcing himself to sit up.

You snort, “yeah sure.”

“Does it matter?”

You shake your head, eyes racing between his’. Jungkook’s eyes do the same, hands running up and down your ass. He opens his mouth to talk only to chicken out and close it again.

You place your hands on the sides of his neck.

Jungkook exhales shakily because of it. He inhales and opens his mouth again.

“What”, he begins, having to clear his terribly dry throat, “what did this mean to you?”

You swallow down the heavy lump in your throat. Jungkook gulps as well, eyes widening in both nervousness and hopefulness.

“What did it mean to you?” you ask him, wanting to stall time.

“Don’t avoid my question”, he says in a shaky voice.

You lower your eyes and take a deep breath. When you lift your gaze seconds later, Jungkook’s eyes have filled with tears of unbearable nervousness.

“It meant everything…baby”, you say, gnawing on your lower lip in nervousness.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut and pulls you close, hiding his face in the crook of your neck just so you can’t see his stupid tears roll down his cheeks. You aren’t calling him husband anymore.

“I feel the same”, he presses out, cradling you oh so strongly.

“Good”, you whisper, holding him against you.

“It’s you and I, yeah?”

“Yeah, you and I”, you promise him.

“Fuck, baby”, he exhales, standing up with you even if his legs are wobbly.

You hug him tightly, sighing his name. Maybe being his wife isn’t that bad. Maybe you actually do love him and maybe he actually loves you too. Maybe it is way too soon to make such decisions and maybe the magic will stop come tomorrow. But at least tonight you are sure that you love him and Jungkook knows that he loves you too.

He places you atop your bed, climbing on top of you.

“Wait, we’re dirty”, you gasp, “shouldn’t we shower first?”

Jungkook cups your face, “why? Just to get dirty again?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what that means”, Jungkook breathes and finally pulls you into a kiss.

[cinnamoodles]

what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !

[axelsagewrites]

Roy & Jamie*Decide

Pairing: roy x f!reader/jamie x f!reader

Kinktober Day twenty-seven: double penetration with Jamie Tartt and Roy Kent: they both like you and when they came to settle it once and for all neither of them expected this out come

Word count: 1812

Warnings: rivalry, threats, roy hating jamie, competitive sex, multiple orgasms, f! receiving oral, m! receiving oral, p in v sex, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

“Who the fuck keeps buzzing?” you muttered as you rushed downstairs to answer the incessant doorbell ringing. “What-oh.” You stopped yourself as you ripped open the door, “Hiya,”

Roy grunted as he pushed past, Jamie giving a nod before glaring at Roy as he followed in. “Okay then,” you said, shutting the door behind them before crossing your arms as you followed them to the living room, “And how can I help you boys?”

“You need to decide,” Roy said bluntly, a trait you usually appreciate but now was just downright confusing.

“Yeah. Me or grampa,” Jamie said earning a growl from the older man. You mentally face palmed at the two of them. See you had been friends with benefits with Jamie for a while but that all stopped when Roy had asked you out on a proper date. That date had turned into several however the whole relationship had blown up a while ago over something so trivial.

You’d insisted on taking a break from boys and dating, especially footballers, however that didn’t stop a few flirts here or there or the occasional slipping and falling into one of their beds. “How am I supposed to decide that?” you asked, arms flailing, “you’ve hardly given me any notice,”

“Well, I’m smarter,” Roy said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jamie screwed up his face, throwing his arms to the side, “Well I’m fitter,”

“I’m taller,”

“I’m faster,”

“I’m way more romantic than this twat,”

“And I don’t make her feel like she’s cuddling a bear,”

“And I’m not some immature baby,”

“Well, I’m better in bed,”

“Like fuck you are!” Roy bellowed, looking at Jamie like he had two heads, “I have mastered my technique, you probably cum before you’ve even got your knickers off,” he spat at Jamie making you giggle. After all he wasn’t wrong about his technique.

Jamie shot you a nasty look before turning back to Roy, “I give great head, tell him,” he insisted pointing at you, but you just held your hands up, not risking getting involved, “Bet I could last longer than you grampa. You’re shooting dust now,”

Roy pushed Jamies shoulder and finally you decided to jump in before they beat the shit out of each other. “Boys! Enough,” you said, getting in between them, “Both of you are good in bed alright? Now kiss and make up,”

“No,” Roy grunted, glaring at Jamie.

“Nah fuck that,” Jamie said, “I want an answer because I know for a fact, I made you cum more than he ever did,”

“Prove it,” Roy growled when an idea sparked in your head and a grin took over your face, “What are you smiling at?” he asked, suddenly scared at the mischief on your face.

“Well, there is one way you two could ya know, settle this debate,”

Jamies head tilted as he genuinely considered the arrangement however Roy quickly barked out a fuck no. “What? You scared grampa?” Jamie asked, gently punching Roy’s chest making him growl and try step closer only to be pushed back by you.

Roy looked down at you, the same heated anger in his eye but a new spark behind, “Bed. Now. You,” he said, pointing his finger in Jamies face, “we have to talk first,”

You quickly slipped away and rushed upstairs, not wanting to possibly be a witness to Jamies gruesome murder, and headed to your room. Deciding just encase this did happen you slipped into something less comfortable and threw your other clothes, a baggy t shirt and shorts, back on.

A few minutes later you heard footsteps as you waited patiently on the bed. When they walked in you went to open your mouth, but you were soon cut off by Roy’s lips slamming onto yours. you melted into the kiss as his hands reached under your shirt, growling at the feeling of the lace against your skin.

He pulled back only to rip the shirt over your head and push you back onto the bed. “Eh not so rough,” Jamie protested but Roy turned to look at him with a smirk.

“She likes it, don’t you love?” he said, looking down at you in a way that made your mouth go dry and all you could do was nod in excitement, “See?”

Jamie rolled his eyes as he pushed in front of Roy, “Let me show you what she really likes, alright?” he said, moving to kiss your lips softly as he hovered over you. his lips were sweet and soft and soon began to kiss down your neck, then chest, then all the way down till he was kissing your inner thigh, and a shiver ran down your spine, “See?” he smirked as his fingers slipped under the waist band of your shorts, pulling them down with ease.

“Watch and learn grampa,”

“Jamie don’t wind him up-fuck,” your gasp cut you off as Jamie moved your panties to the side to kiss your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves with his tongue. For a moment you wondered if having Roy watch this was a bad idea but that soon went away when you felt his fingers teasing your hole.

You whined as he slipped two fingers in, curling them with slow precision. A warm feeling spread through your stomach as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it gently before running his tongue over it once more. Your hips began to buck lightly but Jamies spare hand quickly moved to pin them down as his fingers began to brush against a familiar spot.

“Fuck-I-fuck,” you tried to speak, to ask if this was a good idea, but the knot in your stomach felt ready to explode as moans left your lips. As his teeth brushed your clit you couldn’t stop it anymore. Your body tensed, a loud moan leaving your mouth, as your orgasm washed over you like a ton of bricks. Jamies tongue didn’t stop however, he was determined to ride this out with you.

That was till Roy grabbed him by his collar and ripped him off of you. before you could as questions, he was flipping you onto your stomach and as his hard on hit against your ass you realised, he’d gotten rid of his trousers at some point during the show. He pulled you up onto your knees, ass proudly on display for him.

“Any prick can do that with his mouth,” Roy said, running his tip up and down your slit, making you shiver when it brushed over your already sensitive clit, “But this is even better,” he said, pushing his tip in slowly making you whine and a quiet hiss come from Roy.

You whined as he slowly sunk his thick member inside, gasping as he pushed it the final way in. “Fuck you take me so well,” Roy groaned, his hands tightening on your hips. He waited a moment, just long enough for you to adjust before he began his thrusts.

They were exact and precise and making filthy moans fall from your lips. His hand moved to slip around your hips, finding your clit and rubbing sloppy circles onto the sensitive nerves making you cry out and whine.

Your eyes screwed shut as Roy pushed your back down, deepening your arch so he could hit a new spot. A spot he had found so many times before making your walls squeeze around him. A familiar knot began to build in your stomach as your hands gripped the sheets tightly.

Your eyes opened for a moment to see Jamie stood, his eyes glued to yours and an evident bulge through his trousers. The sight of him watching in awe was enough to tip you over the edge but Roy’s thrusts did not stop for your moans or the way your body tightened as you came around his cock.

“You wanna fuck her, don’t you?” he grunted, his eyes locked on Jamie who began to stutter something out, “Do it then. Fuck her pretty little mouth,” Roy said as his hand gripped your hair, pulling your face out of the sheets, “Cmon darling don’t tease the poor boy,” he scolded, a smirk on his lips.

Jamies eyes snapped down to yours as your arms pulled you up. He stepped closer to the bed before pausing, “Are you sure- “he began to ask but you reached forward, pulling him closer by the waist band of his joggers, “Fuck it,” he mumbled, quickly fishing out his cock.

It looked painfully hard and glossy precum shone from its tip. His hand moved to cup your cheek for a moment before he guided his tip closer. You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue slightly out making Jamie groan at the sight. “Fuck,” he murmured as you took his tip in your mouth.

His hand moved to rest on the back of your hand, guiding your mouth down his shaft. Roy had slowed his thrusts as Jamie had gotten himself situated but with the sight of you taking him all in Roy began to thrust harder, making your head bob up and down on Jamies cock.

Jamie groaned loudly, his hand tightening in your hair as his tip began to hit the back of your throat. It was as if they timed their thrusts perfectly however you soon found yourself moaning as you felt your orgasm approach for the third time.

The moans vibrated down Jamies shaft, his cock twitching in your mouth as he began to moan shamelessly, his hips bucking and sending his tip further down your throat. Roy’s thrusts became harder, making your head bob further down till you felt Jamies pelvis hitting your nose and Jamies hand grip your hair tightly as curses fell from his lips.

“Oh god-I- “he gasped before you felt a salty feeling spill down your throat.

No sooner had Jamie pulled himself from your mouth did Roy pull your body up, your back flush against his chest as he continued to fuck you, now chasing his own peak as your third crashed down around you. Jamie watched in a trance as your tits began to bounce and you fall apart around Roy’s cock for a second time.

However, Roy soon began to grunt, curses falling from his lips before he couldn’t contain himself any longer, “Oh fuck-I-fuck fuck fuck,” he gasped as he spilled inside you, holding you tight against him as his orgasm washed through him.

After a moment Roy moved to help you lay down before essentially crashing on the bed beside you. Jamie moved to sit on the bed beside you, Roy on your other side, and push the hair out of your face.

You looked between the two boys as a realisation washed over you, “How the fuck am I supposed to choose after that?”

[gamergirl-niffler]

Emergency request: having recently relocated to a new residence (while not entirely new, the adjustment feels significant considering my years living abroad), I'm grappling with a sense of sentimentality. Could I request a scenario where Dabi and Bakugo provide comfort to their girlfriend following her move? 🥺 Thank you luv ❤️

OH, SWEETHEART! I am so sorry to hear it! Missing just your home or country can be hard. I hope that soon you will feel better!

I hope the boys will make you feel better!

Dabi & Katsuki with girlfriends who miss their motherlands

Dabi

🔥 Touya understands you. Missing your home can be tough.

🔥 There isn't much Touya can do, even if he would want to.

🔥 When you suddenly get all sad because you miss your home, he is there to hold you and listen.

🔥 He just lets you lay on his chest and rant about everything you miss - places, snacks, food or anything.

🔥 This big, bad villain actually opens up to you a little. Touya shares with you how he misses his home, how nostalgic yet sick he feels when he sees happy families around the city.

🔥 Touya arranges some money for himself and spends it on the snacks that he thinks should be the closest to what you are missing.

🔥 In the end, the two of you get it all under control, finding home in each other. It's not always easy, and each of you feels nostalgic from time to time, but you have one another in the end.

Bakugo

💥 He worked his ass off to help you move from your country to Japan, so he has some hard time understanding why you suddenly look like a sad puppy.

💥 Instead of dancing around the topic, he simply asks you about it.

💥 Once you tell him what's wrong, he is a little surprised, but he understands it.

💥 He doesn't want you to just keep being sad.

💥 So next time you get ready to enjoy dinner or any other meal, he is there cooking a meal from your country. No matter how complicated, weird or new it might be to him. He is making it for you.

💥 If you are sad because you miss some snacks from your home, Katsuki orders them online. Just like that, one day you receive a huge parcel, filled to the brim with sweets, drinks and everything else you missed.

💥 When you tell him about some specific places you miss, Katsuki thinks about similar places in Japan where he can take you to fill up this little hole.

💥 You speak the language he doesn't know? Bakugo is willing to pick it up a little. Speaking your native language should make you feel much better. Just don't laugh at him if he makes a mistake.

💥 He is a busy hero, but even once in a while he takes time off to rest. Bakugo makes sure to have vacation just when you do. Why? Because the two of you have a plane ticket booked, duh!

💥 Katsuki is taking you to your country, where you can show him everything you missed.

💥 Just so you know, this becomes your yearly tradition.

[mecachrome]

omg k i just saw ur top 3 landoscar moments post from october 2023... any changes/updates since then? new moments made it onto the list? or if not... favorite moment of 2024 so far? (i just like hearing (reading?) ur thoughts it's like reading an intellectual (but still sappy in my fave way) bedtime story 🥰)

hklsdfhlsfhd naurrr... this is so embarrassing why am i still deeply landoscarpilled 6 months later 😔

but honestly i have been thinking about this and the sheer volume of crasyinsane material and lore we've accrued since last year because now i'm like how would you even begin constructing a top 3....... the possibilities are endless!!!

in terms of pre-october content that i might have missed before, i'd say most of this ask still holds (lando's biggest fan dot mp4 will NEVER lose its insanity to me. quintessential landoscar meta as far as i'm concerned) but now i also desperately need 2 shout out portrait painting challenge...... when it came out i was of course susceptible to the "you look beautiful" bantz though mostly just wrote it off as shipbait and since then i've looked back on this video multiple times and been like ?! why was oscar's deference to lando so insane actually.... i've alr mentioned this b4 but 1) oscar taking lando's intro in stride and immediately responding i am ready lando norris 2) oscar playfully acquiescing and letting lando use purple after he'd already chosen it 3) >like 5 seconds later. "you like purple don't you?" "uhhhh... i can do now" (who says that.) 4) another stunning display of lando Nooticing and fixating on oscar's hair swoop and last but not least 5) the way oscar FOLDS OVER and giggles helplessly when lando tells him i've just done you all pink ??? like. OKAY. cheers

looking @ recent content..... personally i find 814 so fascinating because while there are many Discrete Moments i can point out that make my brain explode i also feel like to some degree the reason we (? or maybe just me. again i apologize for the nonsensical drivel i create) love to make parallel gifsets of them is because they have such an understated dynamic built off many minute unspoken habits and wordless exchanges and essentially Patterns so there is less of like... a need for spontaneous intimacy.... if that makes sense. it's about the consistency of reciprocal comfort... iterations..... palisades palisades......... ok this is totally not related to the ask i've just been rotating it in my mind

anyway 10 personable favs !!! arranged chronologically

finish the lyrics (oct 2023): a deeply obvious one but you can't Not include it 😩 i can't believe this came out a week after i answered that because seriously what da hell. @ OSCAR PIASTRI WHAT IS WRONG WITH YEWWWWWWWW. there are sooooo many things i could mention here that i feel have already been exhaustively expounded, the most obvious of course being the classic ojp Heart Eyes moment(s) (Many such cases......but also specifically the love story one) (like i'd argue silverstone was mostly responsible for getting 814 off the ground BUT this video was when their dynamic became the most "mainstream" and accessible to fandom as a whole... the amount of non-f1 fans i saw qrting reups of that clip!!!!) anyway but then you also get 👉 whatever the inside joke they have about old town road is. oscar saying "i reckon you'd be unreal in a karaoke bar in japan" which i still think is such a Line... just me ??? the way he verryryryyyy softly sings "yes" with lando at the end of their love story karaoke and the insane camera angle of him just out of focus. like. really in general there is just such a soft and lighthearted and Fun air to their dynamic in this video that makes me ;__; AND this is another prime moment of lando narrating oscar's firsts for him (singing on camera at mcl!!!) . ALSAURR lando tapping oscar on the bicep while sarcastically complimenting him. once again for two guys who never touch it compels me... actually i could go on about this video tbh like how oscar nearly falls off the couch giggling at lando playing the songs together and then it cuts to the next one and he's suddenly all flushed and his bangs have gotten all fucked up. he's so... they're so... let's move on.

splunk sim city challenge (nov 2023): many classic lines such as "i haven't even distracted you yet!" + oscar knowing his podium year and lando saying "you're a nerd!" + lando going ":) :o are you okay?" and so on... general setup of this challenge was crasy tbh. how it revolves around disrupting the other person's focus and the visual asymmetry of one being sat higher and having to lean over to distract them and how oscar just giggles goodnaturedly when lando sticks his cue cards in front of his face instead of getting annoyed and—SO ON. also forever obsessed with how oscar wordlessly lifts his eyebrows at lando at the end lol

that one sticker video (nov 2023): this video is insaaAAANEEEE to me. ANYONE ELSE??? first of all oscar and lando gingerly standing across each other on either side of the flower bed (while zak brown assumes a power stance directly on it lmfao) is already so visually overwhelming but then the way oscar glances up as he's removing the sticker from the cap, how you can seeeeee him calculating the move the entire time and being adorably pleased about it, @__@ the way lando grins at him afterward... (also crying at zb glancing at them and being equally charmed by their antics) wahhh TT__TT the vibes of this clip... immaculate

oscar thanking lando in their final post-race message (nov 2023): honestly the entire message in general but :__) one of my fav 814 moments OAT is oscar including lando in his thank you speech and lando not really expecting it and being genuinely touched by the gesture. lando is so endearingly fidgety the entire time honestly and the way he perks up a bit and wrings his hands together and playfully smiles at oscar when he mentions him... okayyy. anyway 2 me it's reminiscent of yes/no challenge "am i the funniest teammate you've ever had?" "(shyly) yeahhh... you're up there" (said in the same baby-ish voice as "so... lando?" UGH. UGHHHH) and how lando genuinely gets a bit awkwardly flustered by it like!!! god. wait ALSO i don't have the space for this so i'm throwing in end of season awards MMMM debatable + how gleefully lando threw oscar under the bus and in general just the incredible expression work going on for both of them during this exchange. God [2]

si rapid fire questions (dec 2023): this video was crucial in determining that oscar... well. is obsessed with accommodating and mirroring lando. many things we already knew (aka listening to whatever music lando listens to; insert prema lap "maybe i should move to an english team because the music's better" moment here) but equally important is oscar "stealing" lando's dinner, how lando presses him on the back to the future question until oscar just changes his answer to his, and of course as you know per my blog title NO I'M GOING TO KEEP YOU HAPPY is in my eyes top 5 most insane things oscar piastri has ever said. likeee... lando showing a bit of jokey remorse over enforcing his rules (don't even get me started about lando and game/challenge rules...) but oscar being sooo determined 2 honor his teasing 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 :melting_face: x100!!!

need to split this into two lists because apparently there's a div character limit 😔 continuing on

hilton spa ad (feb 2024): of course this pained me because of This Moment (specifically lando bringing his hand back down when oscar tried to lift it from beneath him 😮‍💨) but that is neither here nor there. obsessed with the salmon at the engineering table anecdote because the most logical explanation for oscar Not doing that anymore is because lando didn't like it... or he just eats different things now but we already know that he's adopted lando's preferred meal b4 so that's equally a lot 2 digest !!! also >the callback to their one million LOOK AT YOU/HIM moments >how they touch shoulders exactly Once when they sit down and then never again despite lando continuously leaning into oscar's space to get to the button... eugh. also just top tier oscar faces + hair 🥰

opening title behind the scenes (mar 2024): thinking about all the hilarious gifsets of this moment that i ate up deliciously 🧡🧡🧡 this was such a significant reminder of how 814 have just gotten like, exceedingly comfortable around each other & have learned 2 communicate via the most inscrutable expressions and noises and gestures that somehow suit Them perfectly x__x although i doubt they will ever really become ~effusive~ with each it's frankly even more devastating that they both help each other care less about maintaining appearances / how they often get so sucked into their interactions (see next bullet point) that everything else kind of just fades away in that instant.... all right ⚠️⚠️⚠️ maybe that's a bit of a stretch but we can pretend for the rpf lens!!! see also my tag spiel in this beautiful tuva gifset.

photo day antics (mar 2024): do you ever just...... what went on in bahrain. honestly. more from this weekend in a second but this video plus the accompanying photo encapsulate their dynamic so perfectly it makes me scream... how 814 are not only so annoyingly focused on each other all the time but also stand SOOO UNNECESSARILY CLOSE while every other teammate pairing is spaced out normally. yuki and checo glancing at them alksfdhdf 😭 truly so ridiculous that the poor photo person tried to get lando's attention and they pretended to comply for two seconds before oscar was lifting his foot to show lando his boot again. also why did it take oscar a million years to step away from lando and put a more appropriate amount of space between them...?! and even then it was barely that much........... (10 paragraphs of speaking later) I prefer really not to speak.

accidental waist grab (mar 2024): this gave me psychic damage so bad i should be lobotomized. we've already spoken about this perhaps erm excessively but why did lando feel the need to stand JUST as close to him if not closer after they broke apart. there was truly no need...... honestly the way this ship will have us looking up driver cams and staring at esteban ocon's ass as he gets out his car just for a single glimpse of their parc fermé dynamic.

bahrain post-race interview antics (mar 2024): You already knowwwww. the sky sports "he follows me everywhere" moment is equally important but the f1tv interview giving us horrifically natural banter (juxtaposing this with their previous interview moments...), lando's dumb faux australian accent and oscar playing along as always, and most of all them HIJACKING THE INTERVIEW & commiserating on camera together ❓❗️ lichrally the grid photo all over again. often when i have emotions over an 814 moment i worry that i sound overly He_Only_Got_Two_Eyes.jpeg but truly sometimes two people are just objectively insane. plus land of piastri/lando piastri.....

also runner up is the f1tv interview with lawrence aka lando's cooing noise @ oscar discussing lily (anyone else frame by frame color pick oscar's face to see how badly he flushed... no? just me?) + the beautiful self-aware surfacing of the CONTRACTUAL OBLIGATIONS of their relationship...... !!! love when 2 guys expose and confirm their own sincerity in trying to verbally resist it. hem

is this anything. sorry eve LKSFDHLDHSF thank u for the ask & pls lmk what ur fav moments are too 🧡

[sinfulslytherin]

New eternity.

Warning: sexual content

Summary: Draco lets you sleep over after your arranged husband treats you like shit.

I close the bathroom door behind me as I re-enter Dracos room.

The blonde boy already placed himself under the blanket of his huge king sized bed.

I can see the upper part of his toned chest peek out from underneath the sheets.

I don't realize my stare until Draco points it out.

"This could be all yours, Amara." Draco exclaims with a smug smirk and a sarcastic voice, clearly mocking me for staring.

"You mean your annoying ass? No thank you." I smirk while making my way over to the bed.

I make myself comfortable as I slip under the sheets.

As I move my legs, I feel something warm against my toes as I hear a shriek.

My eyes quickly wander over to Draco.

"What the hell, Amara! Keep your freezing feet on your side of the bed."

The blonde boy complains.

A grin plasters on my face as I take my opportunity to tease him a bit.

I scoot closer to him in a swift move as my legs touch his.

Again.

"You are such a child!-Sto-" Draco starts to complain again and tries to build some distance between us

but is quickly interrupted by another cold touch of mine.

Loud laughs escape my from my lips.

"Aww, are you going to cry?-Do I see some tear-"

I am the one who gets interrupted this time. Draco throws himself on top of me and grabs my arms and pins them down.

The grin that was plastered on my face only a few seconds ago vanishes completly.

I look up and stare into his cold, grey eyes.

Draco stares right back at me.

Not saying a word.

His eyes wander down to my lips and further down to my thighs, which got exposed as soon as we started moving more and more, pushing the blanket away from us.

The silence eats me up alive before he finally opens his mouth.

"You seem pretty happy for a girl who is entangled in a fake, forced and abusive marriage."

His eyes never leave mine.

"Maybe that's because I'm with you." I blurt out my feelings.

His eyes slightly widen but he tries to hide his suprise.

Did I just confess that he makes me happy?

Wait-

Does he make me happy?

My mind wanders off to the thoughts of Draco defending me against Graham earlier.

Draco saying that he cares.

I have the feeling that I might have a chance to heal when I am by his side.

The therapy session in my brain is interrupted by Dracos voice.

"It's so hard to tell sometimes."

I look up at him, visibly confused.

"To tell what?" I ask.

"To tell what's going on inside that little head of yours." Draco says as he uses his index finger to tip on my forehead.

I smile softly.

"A lot."

"Tell me."

"That would take an eternity."

"I'd spend my eternity with you."

We both fall silent.

Dracos eyes wander down to my lips.

Back up to my eyes.

And then my lips again.

He suddenly crashes his lips on mine.

He kisses me as his left hand rests on my waist and the other one is on my cheek.

His tounge enters my mouth after I gladly accept it.

His tounge fights for dominance.

And wins.

As always.

His right hand leaves my cheek and slowly makes his way to my clothed breasts.

"May I?" Whispers Draco against my lips.

I lightly push him off of me as I sit back up. Draco looks visibly confused, probably scared that he might have done something wrong.

I suddenly take my shirt off in a swift motion, leaving me in nothing more than the boxers that Draco gave me. Dracos eyes widen and I can see him turn red.

"Yes. You may." I say as I look him in the eyes.

His eyes darken as he suddenly pushes me back down and kisses me.

"You are so fucking perfect." Draco suddenly says in betweens the kisses.

His face wanders down to my breast.

He teases me by licking my nipple lightly.

Small moans start to leave my lips.

He suddenly starts to suck on my nipple, pushing me into a whimpering state.

"Fuck...you're so beatiful. Who is my beautifuly slut, hm?"  Draco suddenly asks, instantly creating a throbbing feeling between my legs.

"I-I am..." I try to answer.

He pushes himself up again as he makes his way even further down.

His fingertips reach the boxers as he looks up at me.

I nod, signaling him my permission.

He takes off the thin fabric, leaving me completly naked now.

He looks at me one last time before I can feel his lips on my inner thighs.

He kiss es his way up.

He keeps on kissing, teasing the living shit out of me.

"D-Draco-"

"I'ts Sir."  He says as he suddenly bites my inner thigh

"Sir...stop t-teasing." I moan out due to the pain.

Draco actually listens and he suddenly sucks on my clit. His tounge moving against my sex gives me a feeling of being drunk, eventhough I am clearly sober.

The euphoric feeling doesn't stop and more moans slip out of my mouth as my craving for his touch rises up inside of me.

I can feel him pushing his tounge inside.

"Fuck me..." I suddenly moan out.

Draco stops in his tracks, clearly suprised by my words.

His eyes meet mine and he seems to search for any kind of uncertainty.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Yes. I want you inside of me...please." I moan, craving his touch.

"Fuck.." Draco growls as he suddenly pulls down his boxers...

Read the rest here~

[notsoattractivearenti]

Start of A New Life (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader)

WC: 4.3K

Warnings: pregnancy, childbirth descriptions, slight mentions of difficulty concieving

A/N: dad!christian for you all!!! this is so not proofread lol. hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

—

Two red lines. “Pregnant - 2-3 weeks”. Another two red lines.

My heart suddenly skips a beat. My hands start shaking and I feel a gasp just leave my mouth. I can’t believe what I’m seeing right now. Is this real? I thought to myself. I have to take another look at all three pregnancy tests that I’m holding on both of my hands just to make sure I didn’t see them wrong and of course, nothing changed. Tears start to fall from my eyes, I am on cloud nine knowing a mini me – or my husband – is growing inside me. It’s happening… It’s really happening! 

—

Christian and I have always wanted children of our own, and we have been trying for a baby for more than a year. We are well aware that not everyone will get pregnant as soon as they start trying, but honestly, at some point it can be exhausting and painful during the period. We had gone to the doctor, got ourselves checked up and luckily no issues were found, so the doctor just suggested we keep trying and be patient. There were times when we were so close to giving up – I was sick of seeing negative results over and over again – but we reminded ourselves that if it’s meant to be, it will happen when it happens and there are couples who have been trying to conceive way longer than us and still haven't succeeded.

I used to constantly apologize to Christian whenever I got a negative result on the pregnancy test because I felt like the problem was me and I was afraid I could never give him a child – I truly wanted to fulfill one of his lifelong dreams: becoming a father. And every single time Christian would tell me to stop apologizing to him and quit being hard on myself because it was never my fault. I knew he felt disappointed to see a single red line instead of two, but like always, he cared a lot more about my feelings. He never failed to comfort me during those times and would go out of his way just to make me feel better – and I am forever grateful to have such a loving and supportive partner for the rest of my life.

—

Christian has been in training since this morning – shortly before I found out I’m pregnant – so I decided to plan a special, little way to reveal the grand, long-awaited news before he goes home. I really cannot wait to see his reaction and I’m “positive” it’s going to be the sweetest thing ever. Since he transferred to his new club, he usually comes home from training feeling all happy and pumped up – imagine how he will be when he finds out he’s going to be a dad! My man may not be the most expressive person in the world, but I know no matter how little he would show his emotion on the surface, he is going to feel immense happiness deep inside his heart.

I searched through Pinterest for some references and after a while, I finally made up my mind. I don’t necessarily have good eyes on aesthetics and stuff so I just go for a simple way. I go look for some adorable little pregnancy announcement onesies, a gift box, and a few small decorative pieces so it would at least look cute and pleasing. I arrange the “present” as soon as I get home, put the box on the kitchen counter, and write a note on the outside – it says: “For my special man ♥ ps: no question asked! ;)”.

A few hours later, he finally comes home.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m home!”

Usually, I would come to him at the front door, greet him back and we would start sharing about each other’s days. But this time, I’m pretending not to hear him and make myself look busy in the kitchen – even though Christian and I actually cleaned the entire kitchen last night. To be honest, the reason I’m doing this is to cover my nervousness. I know he’s going to be excited but a little part of me worries he would change his mind about having a child after so many failed “attempts”.

“Y/N?” He sounds confused.

He then goes around the house looking for me before eventually finding me in the kitchen. I can hear his footsteps but I keep pretending like I am completely unaware of him. He comes over to me and hugs me from behind, and greets me with kisses – and of course, I act surprised when he does that.

“Hey baby, did you not hear me?”

His raspy, gentle voice gives me chills. It never fails to make me feel weak on my knees. But for now, I have to keep my act together.

“Oh sorry, I got so caught up here washing dishes!”

I’m trying to make an impromptu excuse but I’m pretty sure it sounds really weird to him now. I mean, right now there are no dirty dishes to wash except one mug I currently have in my hands… I just know he is a bit confused.

“Umm, Y/N, didn’t we just wash th-”

“So how was training?” I cut him off before he questions me any further.

“Well, great as always. Tired, sure, but you know…” He pauses to kiss my neck, “whenever I see you after training, I am so recharged right away.”

I bite my bottom lip and feel my cheeks are turning red. Ugh, focus Y/N… Remember the big news you have yet to tell him! I remind myself quietly.

“Recharge? What am I, a phone charger?”

I instantly regret that lame, super unfunny joke I just said. He chuckles, I believe he is just being the supportive partner he always is.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good one, Mrs. Pulisic.”

“Oh by the way, I think I see something that looks like a gift right over there,” he points to the gift box over the counter, “is that for me?”

“I don’t know… Maybe?”

“What is it?” He straightforwardly asks about it.

“Christian…” I sigh.

“What did I do to deserve it?” He quickly asks again.

I turn around, rolling my eyes at him to show him in a jokey way that his questions annoy me.

“My goodness, Christian, just open the goddamn gift!”

He quickly walks across the room while saying the phrase “What’s in the box? What’s in the box???” repeatedly. I carefully watch every little move he makes – I really want to cherish this moment.

“Awww, baby, am I really your special man?” He cutely pouts and puts his hands over his chest when he reads the notes.

I can’t help but laugh at his adorable face.

When he starts opening the gift box, I can feel my heart jump a little. I subconsciously start fidgeting my fingers and shake my legs – I really am that nervous. I almost certainly know that he’s going to react positively but, what if I could be wrong?

Before I know it, I see him gasping, then has his hands covering his mouth, with both of his eyes widened. He then turns to my direction with the look of disbelief written all over his face.

“Y/N???” His jaw drops and his breath hitches.

“Are we… Are w-” He is really caught off guard by this big news he is losing words for a moment.

“Uhm, sorry, I uh, I wh-” he pauses for a good second before continuing, “Are we having a baby???”

“Yeah…” I excitedly nod in response. “I just found out this morning.”

He then runs back to me, hugs me tight and buries his face in between my neck and shoulder – I can slightly feel his tears over my shoulder.

“You’re going to be a dad, Christian.” I whisper to him.

And just like that, I just made him cry even harder.

“My love…” He sobs. “Thank you… Thank you. I love you!”

He looks down and puts his hand on my tummy, then his eyes go straight into mine.

“It’s a bit surreal thinking about how our child is now growing inside you… You’re unbelievably amazing, Y/N.”

He then kneels in front of my tummy while holding my waists with both his hands, and talks to our growing child.

“Hi little angel, I can’t wait to meet you… I love you so much already.” He kisses my tummy after.

—

We started telling our family and close friends a few days after the first sonogram. Everyone was so happy for us and has been very lovely and wonderful to us – especially me, of course. Both mine and his family would go all the way to make sure I got everything I need, and the moms have been offering generous help and willingly guiding me through my first pregnancy whenever I need them to.

During the ultrasound, Christian didn’t let go of my hand even for a second and asked the doctor so many questions that I didn’t even think about – apparently the night before he had done his research and I was not aware of that. When we got to see our growing fetus on the screen and listen to their heartbeat, Christian – who usually doesn’t really show his emotions on his face –  became very emotional and it kind of freaked me out. Being a dad is truly one of the biggest dreams he has ever had. Now that it’s really coming true, his emotions are all over the place and because he is not used to experiencing such overflowing emotions, he is still trying his best to manage them. Though I think that is adorable, I just love to make fun of him for it.

“You know, Chris, I’m wondering who the hell is actually with a baby?” I poke fun at his “hormonal” reaction. “Because it’s like your hormones are going crazy while I’m here able to control my emotions.”

“Oh shut up,” he moans, “what’s happening is that my heart is warmer now while yours is still ice cold.” 

My jaw drops at his immediate, clever clap back. Oh how I love sassy Christian!

“Stop it!” I laugh really hard. “That’s a good burn on me, Pulisic!”

—

Since Christian found out we are expecting, he has been extra attentive, present and caring to me. Though I appreciate it greatly, it can be too much sometimes. Therefore I would ask him to back down a bit and thankfully he never fails to understand that I still need my space.

No matter how busy he might be, he never wants to miss going to every doctor appointment. He also always pays very good attention to our baby’s development – he even has a binder made specifically for it. He gets excited all the time when the baby kicks, and when the baby is kicking so hard he would talk to my tummy.

“Sweetheart, please be good in there. Don’t hurt Mommy, okay?”

“My little angel, don’t kick Mommy’s tummy that hard, please. Let’s not make Mommy feel hurt.”

He always communicates with the baby and every time, they would respond to Christian. It’s like they have bonded really well even before they meet, and the thought of him being so close with our child really melts my heart.

He loves taking pictures of my growing bump. Every single time he would tell me I look really beautiful while carrying our child, and my reaction would either be thanking him shyly or telling him to shut the crap – depending on my mood that day, really. Pregnancy has given me mood swings lately I can’t even predict how I would be feeling that day whenever a new day starts. But Christian has always had a lot of patience and I admire how he would perfectly handle me no matter how good or bad my mood might be. Yeah, he is without a doubt going to be the best parent and I can’t wait to witness it.

We decided to not find out about our baby’s sex because we want to surprise ourselves. Besides, we really don’t care if we’re having a boy or a girl. We don’t want to set certain expectations especially when it comes to their sex or gender because all we care about is that they’re healthy and come to this world all safe and sound. Although, we have prepared some names – but we don’t feel like making the final decision before the baby is actually born.

—

Today I woke up at 4 in the morning to a cramp on my stomach – a bit similar to the menstrual cramps I used to have at the beginning of my period. It comes and goes irregularly, and at first I got scared thinking something bad might be happening. But then I remember what my doctor had explained before: the cramp might be a sign of early labor. I then wake Christian up, letting him know I am possibly entering the early labor stage. When I tell him about it, his eyes widen all of the sudden and he slightly jumps off the bed.

“Wha- Y/N should we just get you to the hospital right now???” He sounds so worried.

“No, I don’t think so. Let’s just time each contraction and when the contraction interval is around 5 to 7 minutes, then we can go.”

I have to explain it calmly because he is visibly alarmed. Even after I do so he is still looking so tense.

“Chris, I’m alright. You can relax for now.” I assure him.

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, ”if you say so.”

—

Almost 15 hours later, the contractions start to come closer apart and when I check my phone, the interval of last contraction to current contraction is 5 minutes, so I tell Christian that it is finally time to go to the hospital. Already dressed, he immediately grabs the car keys and sets up some blankets on the passenger’s seat in case my water breaks. After that, he goes back into the house to grab hospital bags then puts them in the trunk of our car. Not long after, he sees me struggling to get into the car, so he gently helps me and once I get in, he makes sure I am sitting comfortably before locking all the doors at our house.

“Okay, everything is set, now it’s time to go.” He says as he starts the car.

He looks at me for a second and gives me a kiss on my forehead before he takes the wheel.

“Let’s go have a baby, shall we?”

—

The midwife informs me that I’m now 10 centimeters dilated, meaning it is finally time to push. I am still in incredible pain and genuinely terrified to do so because I don’t know if I can still bear the pain while pushing a full-sized human baby out of my vagina. Also, I have heard about this thing called “ring of fire” – it’s the strong burning sensation that you will experience when your baby is crowning – and now that it’s about to happen, I can’t stop thinking about it. While getting into the birthing position, I turn to Christian who is standing next to me.

“Christian, I’m scared…” I whimper. “I don’t know if I can do this…”

Hearing what I say truly breaks his heart. He hates knowing I’m scared yet he can’t do anything about it except giving me the encouragement he knows I need. He then looks deep into my eyes, smiling at me while caressing my hair, with his other hand holding mine tight.

“Yes you can, my love.” He softly says.

“You are the strongest person I have ever known so I know you know you absolutely can! It’s okay to be scared but baby, I’m here.” He kisses my forehead. “Let’s go meet our little angel, yeah?”

I nod and take some deep breaths to prepare myself. Then I let the doctor know I’m ready and they immediately tell me to start pushing.

One push, two pushes, those were not so bad. Starting from third push, it starts to feel very, very painful.

“You’re doing great my love!”

He is basically being my ultimate cheerleader the whole time. He doesn’t let go of my hand no matter how hard I might grip his hand. He says he doesn’t feel a thing though I know he is lying his butt off for my benefit.

“Chris this hurts so bad…” I bawl, squeezing his hand hard. “This really hurt…”

His eyes suddenly become all teary. He can no longer hide his ache seeing the woman he loves greatly has to endure unthinkable pain to bring his child into the world.

“My love I’m sorry…” He weeps. “I’m sorry you have to go through this… But sweetheart you know you can keep going, a few more pushes and our baby is here…”

I keep pushing even though at some point I didn’t feel like I could do it anymore. But having Christian there gives me the strength I need during the birthing process.

“Y/N, let’s give one big final push!” Says the doctor.

“Uh, yeah, okay…” I say to them as my breath hitches.

I’m already very exhausted but unfortunately there’s no way I can stop. I can feel my baby is crowning and this “ring of fire” sensation is no joke – so when the doctor told me to do one final push all I can think of is that this pain will be over soon.

“C’mon sweetheart! You can do this!”

I hear a loud crying from my baby.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!” The doctor excitedly announces.

“Oh my God, honey, we have a daughter!” I turn to Christian and see him already flooded with tears.

“Our little princess…” He sobs. “One more beautiful girl for me to love for the rest of my life.”

—

Christian and I can’t stop looking at our newborn daughter. 

“Chris, look at her… She’s so tiny.”

“These little fingers are the cutest.”

She wraps Christian’s forefinger with her entire hand.

“She has your lips, Y/N.” He points out. 

“Yeah… But she mostly has your features so I was basically just an oven!” I jokily grunt.

“Well you know it isn’t my fault that my genes are more prominent, is it?” he playfully replies, “I’m just that good.”

I roll my eyes, pretending to be irritated.

“Smug butthead.”

“Hey, watch your words, Mommy!” 

Christian got me laughing and blushing. He just reminds me that I’m a mom now! It feels like we just had the talk about growing our family yesterday and the next thing I know I am now in a hospital, just giving birth to our sweet little angel who is sleeping peacefully in my arms at this moment. This still doesn’t feel real… Our lives are now officially changed forever and I couldn’t imagine mine before her.

“Hey,” Christian wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my shoulder, then whispers, “I love you.”

I have not stopped smiling and I can feel my smile getting wider.

“I love you.” I reply.

“You’re my everything, Y/N.” He adds.

“Oh no, you’re about to say some sappy monologue aren't you?”

“Yeah, here it comes…”.

Before he says his little speech he kisses me on the cheeks.

“Y/N… I can never thank you enough. You have made my dreams come true and I still don’t know why I deserve you in the first place! Thank you for making my life a lot more perfect than I ever imagined.”

I’m starting to sob.

“Christian…”

“I hated seeing you in so much pain just to bring her into the world.” He continues. “I wish it was me instead… But you continue to amaze me with your strength. And now, I love you so much more – more than I ever love anyone, even myself. Ever since you came into my life you have changed my world for the better. I never wanted to live my life with anyone else but you, and I’m beyond grateful we have a beautiful child together.”

“I will take good care of my girls for as long as I live…” His voice starts to shake. “I love you. I love you so much. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Y/N.”

Tears immediately streaming down my face. I just gave birth so my hormones are all over the place, and his beautiful speech doesn’t help. He got me speechless and extremely emotional.

“Ugh,” I jokingly grunt as I wipe my tears with my hand, “how dare you make me cry, Pulisic.”

And suddenly we see our baby giving us her first big smile – it’s like she is reacting to all the love and emotions her parents are experiencing right now!

“Awwwww!” Christian and I make the same sound in unison.

And of course, it makes me cry even harder. Christian is emotional too, by the way, but not as messed up as I am currently. He grabs some tissues and gently wipes my face – which is all wet thanks to the river of tears – with them right away as I am still holding our daughter.

“Y/N, my love, I don’t think you will ever stop crying from now on, no?” He laughs.

“Obviously not!”

—

“So, have you two decided on baby girl’s name?”

Christian and I instantly look at each other when the nurse asks that question. As I said, we have prepared some names for our baby but we have yet to choose the perfect name for her. Christian then grabs a piece of paper with the list of names from his pocket and as soon as the nurse leaves the room, we start discussing right away.

“Okay, uh… Which one do you love the most, Y/N?”

“I don’t know, Chris,” I reply, “there are too many options.”

“Well you can’t say you don’t know,” Christian sighs, “we have to pick two.”

An idea suddenly passes through my head.

“Why don’t we try this out: we say any name we each feel perfectly fitting for her at the same time. What do you think?” I suggest.

“Yeah okay, it’s worth a try.” He agrees.

“Alright, let’s say it in the count of three.” I instruct him.

“One, two, three…”

“Dylan!”

“Emery?”

He didn't sound sure at first, but then changed his mind immediately. “Oh, I like both names!”

“Dylan Emery Pulisic… It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I agree with him. I look at our little bundle of joy in my arms and I just know those names were made for her.

“Yeah, that’s definitely her name.”

—

Even though we are now taking care of our newborn together, Christian did have to  fight just to get enough paternity leave. It was not easy for him because Dylan was born in the middle of the season and he is one of the most crucial players for the team, but he really wanted to take care of his daughter especially during the first few weeks of her life. Not only that, he feels like I have done so much already and he wants to also take care of you while you recover from the whole pregnancy and childbirth periods. He wouldn’t even mind getting less playing time when he comes back, because in his own words: “Now my priorities are my girls, football is much less important than both of you.”

Before Dylan was born, Christian had been practicing basically everything to prepare him for fatherhood. He can change the diapers, clean and bathe the baby, perfectly wrap her, he knows how to help soothe the baby, burp her after feeding – anything, really. He truly is excited to embrace this new life as a parent.

Dylan’s first week at home was hard, I had to adjust my sleeping schedule because until she’s a bit older I have to feed her every 2-3 hours and it messes up my sleeping. Not only that, she would loudly scream and cry all of the sudden and it mostly happens in the middle of the night. But Christian is always there, ready to help no matter how tired he might be – it’s a bare minimum but not all dads would be very hands-on like him – and I’m beyond grateful I don’t have to do everything alone. We always stay up late together, like when I have to feed Dylan at 12 AM and 3 AM. Most of the time, when we heard Dylan crying in the other room, he would tell me to go back to sleep and offer to take care of her. I would see them from the baby monitor and I’m telling you, he truly is the best dad. Seeing him being so loving to our daughter makes me already think about having another baby… But obviously both of us want to focus on raising Dylan so we decided to put the conversation on hold until Dylan is old enough to be a big sister.

Two weeks after Dylan came into the world, Christian decides it is time to introduce her to everyone at Milanello. So he brings both of us to the training grounds and shows her off to the staff and players. The club even got Dylan a mini home jersey kit as a way to welcome her to the Milan family.

One of his teammates greets us the second we get into the dressing room and ask about his current state. And to be honest, Christian’s heartfelt answer to it reminds me how lucky I am that I get to do this parenthood journey with him.

“Christian, hey! How are you feeling now, bro?

“Well I am a husband and a brand new father, so from now on I will always be feeling a lot happier than I have ever been. I am now on the start of a new life, thanks to my amazing, beautiful girls.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

[suddencolds]

The Worst Timing | [2/?]

happy (late) new year :') after a month (and a lot of editing and dissatisfaction), i am back with part 2 of the 'yves has had too easy of a time' series (6.4k words). you can read [part 1] here!

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

When they get to the hotel Aimee’s booked for them, it’s already late enough to be dark out. Yves helps unload their suitcases from the back, while Leon loads them up onto a luggage cart. 

It’s an exceptionally nice hotel—picturesque brick walls, glossy windows all in a row, slanted red rooftops rising up into the sky. He’d looked at it briefly when Aimee consulted him about the bookings, but it looks even more like a castle in person, like something straight out of a storybook. Yves will have to remember to thank Aimee and Genevieve again for picking such a nice place for them to stay at.

They check in at the lobby. Yves makes sure the suitcases make their way up to Leon and Victoire’s room, which is on his and Vincent’s floor, but at the other end of the hallway. (“Don’t be late to breakfast tomorrow,” he tells them, sternly, and Leon—who has slept through his alarms for as long as Yves has lived with him—laughs. “I’m especially talking to you,” Yves adds, looking straight at him).

Then he wheels the luggage cart down the hallway. “I’m so ready to crash,” he says, to Vincent. “It’s been a long day. Are you tired?”

“I’ll be tired once I lay down,” Vincent says. He carefully extricates one of the key cards and holds it out to the door card reader.

The interior of the hotel room is a little colder than the hallway is. Vincent flicks on the light, slips the key card back into its designated slot, and leaves his shoes in a neat line at the door. Yves follows him in.

Their room is a standard suite—there’s a small sitting area just next to the entrance, a bathroom off to the side, and a door frame—though not a proper door—which leads to the bedroom. On the far end, translucent white curtains give way to a sliding door which opens up to the balcony. It’s a nice room, Yves thinks, with a nice view of the rest of the hotel, its pool and gardens, the circular sun umbrellas stretching out floors below them. It’s only when Vincent hesitates, standing in the bedroom, that Yves realizes what’s wrong.

The bedroom has a singular queen-sized bed, and nothing else.

Of course. It makes sense for this to be the living arrangement, if they’re really dating.

“I can take the couch,” Yves says, clearing his throat, which doesn’t feel any better than it did earlier. 

Vincent turns to look at him.

“I mean, this whole pretend-relationship thing doesn’t have to extend to us sharing a bed.”

Mentally, he kicks himself for not having the foresight to predict this. Just because Vincent is fine with putting on a show in front of his friends—and in this case, family—doesn’t mean that Vincent will be fine sharing a bed with him when they’re in private.

“You can have the bed,” Vincent says. “The bed will probably be warmer.”

Whether that’s a comment about how Yves has been too cold all day, or whether it’s just an offhanded appraisal which has nothing to do with him, Yves doesn’t know. 

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I don’t mind the sofa. Besides, hotels usually have extra blankets. I’m sure they’re just hidden in some drawer somewhere.”

He rummages through a few of the cabinets and looks through the closet until he finds what he’s looking for—a feather comforter, folded neatly on the top shelf. He takes it down, keeping it folded under his arm.

“See,” he says, flashing Vincent a smile. “I’ll be perfectly warm, like this.” Vincent still looks a little unconvinced. “You should wake me if you’re not,” he says. “I don’t mind switching.”

“Duly noted,” Yves says, even though he has no intention of waking Vincent for any reason. 

“The couch probably extends into a pull-out bed,” Vincent says, already heading back into the living room. “It should be more comfortable. I can help you set it up.”

“I can do it,” Yves says. All this talking is not helping with his throat. Worse, somewhere over the course of the past couple hours, there’s a faint tickle that’s managed to settle into his sinuses.

“It’s the least I can do, if I’m taking the bed,” Vincent says.

Yves is about to say more, but he finds that he really needs to sneeze. He lifts his arm to his face, his eyes watering, his breath hitching—

“Hh-! hHehh’IIZSCHh-IIEW!”

“Bless you,” Vincent calls, from the next room over.

“Thanks,” Yves says, turning into his shoulder with a small cough. His breath hitches again, irritatingly. “hHeh-! HEHH’IiITSHHiEW! snf-!” 

When he heads into the living room, Vincent is already almost done setting up the pull-out bed. Yves helps him lock down the legs of the frame.

“Thanks,” Yves says, fluffing out the blanket he’s holding so that he can lay it out over the mattress. “All set up.”

He looks the bed over. It looks inviting enough—a little smaller than the bed in the bedroom, the mattress thinner, but fluffy and clean regardless. Vincent steps past him to duck into the bedroom and emerges a moment later, carrying two pillows.

“Are these your pillows?” Yves says.

“They’re yours now.”

“I can sleep without pillows.”

“They gave me two sets, anyways,” Vincent says. “I wouldn’t have made use of these ones.”

“Okay.” Tentatively, Yves takes a seat at the edge of the mattress. From the doorway, he gets a limited view of the bedroom—he can see the curtains at the far end, the desk pushed up against the wall, and the very foot of the bed. “Do you think this is what couples do when they’re traveling and they get in a fight?”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Vincent asks.

“It might as well be,” Yves says.

“If your family walks in and sees that I’ve banished you to the sofa, I don’t think I’ll ever be forgiven,” Vincent says, so seriously that it almost doesn’t register as a joke. Yves laughs.

“You can just say I snore,” he says. “Or, worse. Maybe I kick you in my sleep.”

“Do you?”

Yves doesn’t—at least, he’s been told he doesn’t—but it’s of no consequence. They’re not going to be sharing a bed. “Luckily for you, you won’t have to find out.” 

He gets settled—sets his suitcase out on one of the side tables, sets out all his toiletries in the bathroom, puts the clothes he’s planning to wear for tomorrow in a neat stack, and hangs up the suit he’s going to wear for the wedding in the closet. He’d been careful folding it, but he’ll probably have to give it another good iron before the wedding date. By the time he has everything accounted for, the bathroom door is closed, and the shower’s running.

The hotel has left them a couple bottles of water on the nightstand but he heads downstairs to buy a couple more from the on-site convenience store on the first floor. Victoire had them exchange dollars for euros at the airport, which Yves thinks he might have forgotten to do in their haste. Even though she’s the youngest of the three of them, sometimes he thinks she is the one with the most common sense.

He strikes up a brief conversation with the cashier, in French that he thinks is fairly fluent but probably accented—it’s been awhile since he’s gotten any practice with it. His speaking is good, but there are some colloquialisms and some idioms that he’s not familiar with and ends up having to ask about.

By the time he gets back up to the bedroom, bottled waters in hand, Vincent is done showering, his hair still a little damp.

“I got us extra waters,” Yves says. “There’s a convenience store down on the first floor.”

“Oh,” Vincent says. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.” He looks nice, even with his hair damp, even though he’s wearing just a t-shirt and shorts to sleep, Yves thinks, and then immediately tables that thought.

“It was nice to stretch my legs,” Yves says. “And nice to have a chance to practice my French. My relatives are going to be disappointed in me if I sound worse than I did last year.”

“Are you fluent?”

“Fluent enough to hold a proper conversation. Not fluent enough to not sound like a foreigner. I grew up speaking French and English, but obviously in the states, there aren’t as many opportunities to practice French.”

“I don’t think you would have lost much of it,” Vincent says, as if from experience. 

Yves laughs. “For my own sake, let’s hope not.”

When he steps into the bathroom, the mirror is still fogged up from the steam. He swipes a hand over the glass to clear enough of it so that he can see.

He looks fine, still, at least outwardly—a little tired, maybe, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by. There’s a faint flush to his complexion, too, which is strange, because he doesn’t feel like he has a fever. He’s just a little colder than usual, is all.

All in all, he still looks passable. At first glance, it doesn’t seem very evident that anything is wrong at all.

He takes a shower, cranks the water up until it’s almost scalding, and stands under the hot water, shutting his eyes. The warmth is a welcome change. It’s the first time today that he’s been really, properly warm—if only because he’s turned the water up a couple degrees higher than he usually has it at.

The water splashes over his shoulders. He leans his head back, taking in a deep breath of the steam.

It’s fine. It will be fine. He’ll drink tons of water, take all the vitamin C he can find, and sleep this off tonight. He’ll be good as new tomorrow. 

—

When Yves blinks awake, it’s still dark out.

The first thing that registers to him is that he’s cold.

What started off as a slight headache has turned into something much worse—his head is throbbing, and even with the blanket, he’s freezing. The air conditioning in the room is on—he can hear the low hum of it through the vents—and everything feels unbearably frigid. Even the bedsheets, which are at the very least warm from his body heat, seem to always be losing heat, unpleasantly, when he shifts.

When he checks his phone, the time onscreen is 3:45 am. Too late to call the front desk and ask them to send up more blankets, probably—even if they are technically in operation, he doesn’t want to be that one asshole to ask for a favor at this time of day.

He’ll ask tomorrow, he thinks, at a more reasonable hour. It’s almost morning, anyways. Maybe if he manages to get back to sleep, he won’t feel the cold as much.

There’s a dull pressure to his sinuses, a slight tickle that seems only to sharpen as he rubs his nose. His breath catches, too quickly for him to do anything to attend to the subsequent—

“Hheh—! hHEHH’iISHHhi-iEw!”

Fuck. The sneeze is loud enough to echo a little within the confines of the living room. Vincent is in the next room over. Vincent is asleep, presumably, like Yves should be. 

And Yves’s nose is starting to tickle again.

He raises the blankets to his face, presses his nose to them to muffle the next—

“hhEH— hehh’IZschhH-IIEW! snf-!” 

The sound is marginally quieter this time, muffled into the cotton, but it’s far from silent. He hopes, desperately, that it’s quiet enough, or that Vincent is a heavy enough sleeper for it not to matter. There isn’t even a proper door between them. 

He reaches up to swipe a hand over his eyes. How did this get so bad so quickly? His head feels heavy, and every sneeze that tears through him is harsh enough to scrape at his already-raw throat—whatever hope he’d had for sleeping it off seems to be diminishing with every passing minute.

He listens, for a moment, for anything: any shifting from the room over, any motion, any footsteps. But to his relief, there’s nothing.

His head is swimming. Worse, he still has to sneeze. The tissue box is on the nightstand in the bedroom Vincent is in, but Yves thinks that it would be too unwise to make a trip right now and risk waking Vincent up a good three hours before sunrise.

“hHh-! hhH-!...”

Fuck. He stays frozen like that, for a moment, one hand hovering over his nose and mouth. His nose tickles, badly, kept just narrowly on edge. It feels like one wrong breath would be enough to set off a sneeze, but sometimes it seems to evade him at the last second—he can’t seem to get his body to settle on something decisive. “hhHEh-!”

The sneeze is unexpected, when it comes, at last—loud and forceful and vicious.

“hehH’NGKT’shhH’EEW!”

A short burst of pain shoots through his temples. Yves can’t claim he’s ever been good at stifling, and this attempt is no exception. It’s not much quieter than the others, even muffled into his pillow, and the attempt to stifle has only made the pressure in his head feel worse.

“Hheh… hh-!” He sniffles. His eyes are watering so much he thinks they might spill over. “hHeh… hh-hHih-HEHh’DJJSHh’iEEW!”

This one he muffles into his hands, ducking forward into his chest. The relief he feels from letting out the sneeze is unfortunately short-lived. He’s nowhere close to done. He can feel it, in the tickle in his nose which refuses to let up, in the pressure to his sinuses which only seems to worsen with each sneeze.

For a moment, Yves contemplates spending the rest of the night just outside their room, out in the hallway. It will almost certainly be colder, he would be quieter there, at the very least—there would be a proper door and a wall between him and Vincent, and that’s something, isn’t it?

Before he can seriously consider it, he’s snapping forward at the waist, muffling another loud sneeze into the covers.

“hhHeh-iIDDSHHhh’YyiiEW!”

He finds himself coughing, after, muffling the coughs tightly into the feather blanket in an attempt to cough more quietly. He shivers, huddling deeper into the covers. His head is pounding. Every time he swallows, sharp, hot pain lances his throat. 

He hears nothing from the room over, even when he listens carefully. This much is a relief—truthfully, he would feel awful if he were keeping Vincent up because of this. Yves has survived on less sleep—back in university, 6am crew practice meant waking up early even when he’d been up late to finish projects or coursework, or otherwise out late with friends—but the thought of keeping Vincent up makes something uncomfortable settle in his stomach. Vincent hadn’t slept at all during the flight. He must be tired, now. The last thing he needs—after the stress of being surrounded by strangers in a foreign country, after traveling for almost 10 hours straight, after being assigned to room with his coworker, of all people—is to be woken up at an ungodly hour just because Yves can’t keep this damn cold under wraps.

Yves thinks he should try to sleep too, if only because it means he won’t be awake to succumb to the next sneeze that threatens to tear through him.

But if he’s entirely honest with himself, he’s not sure if sleep is going to come to him anytime soon. 

—

Yves doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to his 7:30am alarm so tired that he feels like he hasn’t slept at all

“Morning,” Vincent says, emerging in the doorway. He’s fully dressed already, his shirt crisply ironed, the collar upright, his hair neatly styled.  

“You’re fast,” Yves says. His voice sounds a little hoarse—all the sneezing last night probably hasn’t done it any favors. But if Vincent can tell that it sounds off, he doesn’t say. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Not really,” Vincent says. “We have time.”

“Give me a few minutes to get ready,” Yves says, hauling himself out of bed. “I’ll be out in five.”

He changes in record speed, washes his face, brushes his teeth, and stuffs everything he can see himself needing into a backpack to take down to breakfast.

When he emerges, Vincent is waiting for him in the hallway.

“How did you sleep?” Yves asks.

“Fine,” Vincent says. “You?”

“I slept well enough,” Yves says, before muffling a yawn into his hand. At Vincent’s pointed glance at him, he adds, “I’m just a little tired. It’s probably jetlag. It’s what, like, 2am over in New York?”

“1:42,” Vincent says, checking his watch. “Is your whole family going to be at breakfast?”

“I’m not sure if everyone’s up,” Yves says. “But Leon and Victoire will be. I told them to be downstairs by 8, so obviously they’ll kill me if I’m not there first.”

The breakfast lounge is on the first floor, a few hallways down from the reception desk. Yves saves a table for them. 

He isn’t very hungry, for some reason. Still, he fills his plate with breakfast pastries and scrambled eggs and grabs a cup of hot tea while he’s at it. He really doesn’t want to lose his voice entirely before the ceremony. Even with his jacket on—which is probably even excessive, considering the temperature of the lobby—he isn’t as warm as he’d like to be.

Victoire joins them next. She waves to Vincent as she passes. “Hope you guys got some sleep,” she says innocently.

Yves says, “We got perfectly good sleep, thank you.”

“Morning,” Leon says, appearing in the doorway at 7:59. 

“You’re really cutting it close,” Yves says, sniffling.

“It’s 7:59,” Leon says. “Whether I’m on time is a binary, not a sliding scale. I’m entirely on time.”

The table Yves picked can fit more than four, so they spread themselves out through the seats. “Mom and dad said they’re having breakfast at one of the cafes nearby,” Victoire says, shrugging her sweater off and leaving it perched on the back of her seat. “They said they’d report back if it’s anything life changing.”

“There’s a welcome party tonight,” Yves says to Vincent, “For everyone who’s flown in. You’ll get to meet them then.”

“Is there anything your parents hate in a partner?” Vincent asks.

“Don’t worry too much. I don’t think— hEHh…” Yves scoots back from the table turning away as he reaches blindly for one of the cocktail napkins he’d taken. “HEHh’DDJJSHh-iiEW! Ugh, sorry.” His nose has been running all morning—he’d made sure to take a generous stack, and stuff some of them into his pockets for later, but it’s been all of fifteen minutes and he’s already nervous that he might run out. “I don’t you could get them to hate you even if you tried.” 

“Mom and dad met in college, at a bar,” Leon says. Yves, who has heard this story many times before, busies himself with eating, and tries hard not to visibly shiver. In a way, he’s grateful to the two of them for filling in the space for him—the less he strains his voice today, the better. “Mom was super drunk, and for some reason when she started talking to dad the conversation topic turned to, like, something super specific and not at all romantic.”

“It was whether or not it’s ethical to clone extinct species,” Victoire says, idly folding her napkin into a pinwheel. “Though this was before it had ever been done.”

“Apparently she was drunk enough to ask his hand in marriage mid argument, and he was drunk enough to say yes, because he thought it was a joke,” Leon says. “And it was a joke. But he proposed to her seriously a year later, and all she said was ‘at least you kept your promise.’”

“But now they’re happily married,” Vincent says.

Leon nods. “They’ve been happily married for almost thirty years now. Anyways, my point is that whatever relationship you have with Yves, you don’t have to try and impress them. There’s no need to overthink it.”

“I understand,” Vincent says. “My parents got married because my dad did well in a business competition at the time, and my mom thought he was going to make a lot of money.”

“And how did that turn out?” Victoire says, interested, propping her head up on one hand.

Yves watches Vincent cut a pastry into four even pieces. “Better than you might expect,” Vincent says.

—-

The welcome dinner is held at a local restaurant—Aimee and Genevieve have rented out the outdoor space for seating. The table—a long table that seats thirty, or so—is set with tall, elegant white candles, all in a row; wine glasses with delicate stems; vases spilling over with flowers—lilacs, pink and white roses, orchids. 

Above them, string lights are strung up in neat lines. When Yves sees Aimee, he doesn’t drop all of his things to run over and hug her, but it’s a close thing.

“Yves! You made it,” she says.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he tells her, in French. “God. Did you plan out all of this? It looks gorgeous.” “Genevieve did a lot of it,” she says. “She has a good eye for decorations.”

Genevieve is off to the side, talking to someone who Yves recognizes as her sister—Yves follows Aimee’s gaze over to where she’s standing. When he looks back, Aimee is smiling in a way Yves has never seen her smile before—the sort of fond, private smile that he feels like he isn’t sure he’s supposed to be seeing. 

Yves is stricken, for a moment. It’s so clear that she’s in love. It shows all over her face, plainly, the kind of love that’s uncontestable; the kind of love that makes love, of all things, look simple. Has he ever looked like that, to someone else?

“How have you been?” he asks. “I imagine preparations have been hectic.”

“Never better,” she says, turning back to face him at last. “You’re right—it’s been exhausting. But I feel like the adrenaline is carrying me through, you know? Like I’m so happy this is happening.”

“You two deserve a perfect wedding,” Yves says, and means it. He clears his throat, sniffling. It’s a little cold out, even though the sun hasn’t gone down yet; he really hopes his nose doesn’t start to run visibly. “If you ever need any help—with last minute preparations, or if anything comes up, or if you need someone on transportation or moving things—let me know. Even if it’s like, 3am or something. My hands are completely free.”

She laughs. “Thank you, that’s so kind of you to offer! It has been hectic, but I haven’t been up at 3am this week, thank God.”

“I hope to keep it that way.” Yves turns away from her, raising an arm to muffle a fit of coughs into his sleeve.

Aimee takes a step forward, her eyebrows furrowing. “Are you okay? You sound a little off. And you’re coughing.”

And Yves thinks: she can’t know. He has his toasts to give at her wedding. He has the wedding rehearsal tomorrow and the wedding ceremony on Saturday to attend. If Aimee finds out he’s coming down with something, she’ll probably tell him to sit things out—to get some proper rest, to disregard virtually everything she has planned, and to not leave the hotel room until he’s feeling a hundred percent better—even if it’s at her own expense.

Worse, she’ll be worried for the entirety of his illness, he’s sure. As if she doesn’t have enough on her plate already, between the setup and all the accommodations and the last minute changes.

Aimee deserves a perfect wedding. 

That’s the bottom line in all of this. This is a once in a lifetime thing for someone he cares and cares deeply about. Yves is not going to ruin it. He’ll get through the next few days, even if it means pushing himself a little past his limits. He can crash afterwards, on the plane ride home, after all the festivities are over and everyone bids farewell.

“I’m fine,” Yves says, clearing his throat. “I’m—” This is really the worst possible timing. He takes a few steps back, craning his neck over his shoulder. “hH-! hHhh’kKTSSH-IEEW! snf-! Ugh. I’mb just getting over a slight cold.” Getting over might be a bit of a stretch, and a slight cold might be even more of one, but other than that, it’s not entirely dishonest.

Aimee frowns at him. “Bless you. Does your throat hurt? There are cocktails on the side table, if you want anything to drink. Wine, too. I can get something for you if you’d like.”

“Nice try, but there’s no way I’m letting the bride go and get things for me,” Yves says, grinning. “Do you want any cocktails?”

“I need to be sober until I’ve officially said hi to everyone,” she says. “Can’t make a fool of myself just yet. Speaking of which, where’s your boyfriend?”

Yves waves Vincent over. “Come say hi!” he says, in English. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Vincent says, in slightly accented French, which is a surprise. He seems to hesitate, thinking hard. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

“Oh my gosh!” Aimee says in English, pulling him close for a hug. Vincent hugs her back. “It’s good to meet you too, Vincent. Thanks for always looking after Yves. I’m glad to have someone keeping him out of trouble overseas.”

“Thank you for having me here,” Vincent says, hugging her back. “I know it was really last minute with the flight and everything. I hope it wasn’t too stressful for you.”

“It was no trouble at all!” Aimee says. “Yves is like a younger brother to me. Last summer was pretty rough for him, I think.” she doesn’t mention Erika, but Yves is sure Vincent knows what she’s referring to, regardless. Aimee smiles, a little wistfully. “I’m just so grateful that he met you. I’m glad to see him happy again.”

“I don’t think I can take credit for that,” Vincent says, blinking.

Aimee smiles warmly at him. “He’s the happiest he’s been in months,” she says. “I think you are selling yourself short.”

After Aimee asks Vincent how his stay has been (good, Vincent says, it’s actually my first time in France, to which Aimee excitedly lists off places he absolutely has to see while he’s here) and Vincent asks Aimee how the wedding preparations are going (nothing’s gone terribly wrong yet, Aimee laughs, which I suppose is all I can ask for), they find their way to their seats at the table. Someone has set out little name cards with all of their names written in calligraphy. Yves realizes, faintly, that the handwriting isn’t Aimee’s. Maybe it’s Genevieve’s, then. 

“I didn’t know you knew any French,” Yves tells Vincent, in English.

Vincent looks away, a little sheepish. “I took a crash course into it when you mentioned the wedding would be in France,” he says, which Yves finds somehow disproportionately endearing. “I know maybe five sentences total, plus a few common terms.”

“Five sentences is impressive given that you had, what, just a few weeks to learn them?”

“I’m not sure if they are very coherent,” Vincent says. “The vowels are different from English. I’m still trying to get the hang of saying them.” 

Yves is about to respond, but he’s cut off with a sharp, unexpected gasp. He pitches forward, raising his elbow up to his face just in time to muffle a—

“Hh… HhEHH-!’IihH’DZSCHh-IIEW!”

He’s glad, for once, that he’s not wearing the suit he’s planning on wearing for the wedding. His nose is running again, which is embarrassing, especially because he can still feel Vincent’s eyes on him.

“À tes souhaits,” Vincent says.

Yves laughs, rummaging through his jacket pockets for one of the napkins he’d taken at breakfast to blow his nose into. “Merci. Is that one of the common terms you learned?”

“No,” Vincent says. “I looked it up last night.”

“Last night?” Yves asks.

For a moment, he’s afraid that Vincent might reveal to him that Yves had kept him up last night, after all, despite all of his efforts to keep quiet. 

“On the car,” Vincent clarifies. “During the trip to the hotel. I was just curious.”

“Oh,” Yves says, relieved. He blows his nose into the napkin he’s holding, which he’s sure he has reused at least a couple times already—but with his nose running so much, he doesn’t exactly have the luxury to be picky. “Well, you’ll be an expert at saying that phrase by the end of this trip, at the very least.”

It’s easy to lose himself in the throes of conversation, after that. Aimee and Genevieve have arranged it so that he and Vincent are sitting directly across from his parents. Leon is right—his parents have never really been the type to subject the partners he’s brought home, over the years, to any sort of interrogation. It’s a fun night, especially after everyone’s a couple drinks in.

“I think it’s a good thing that you guys are in the same line of work,” Yves’s dad says, conversationally. “Yves won’t have to explain why he’s always working overtime.”

Yves’s mom says, “Isn’t that a bad thing? We shouldn’t be encouraging their workaholic tendencies.”

Yves neglects to mention that he’s pretty sure Vincent (who worked the entire flight here)’s workaholic tendencies will persist, even without any encouragement.

Vincent tells them how they’d met—it’s the same story as he’d told the first time they’d done this, during Margot’s new year party a few months back, but Yves’s parents seem to find it extremely entertaining.

Yves’s mom says, “I told you Yves was the one who asked him out.”

Yves’s dad says, “I didn’t know if he had it in him.”

Yves’s mom says, “I remember hearing him say something about having an attractive coworker. It wasn’t that much of a logical stretch to assume he’d make a move at some point.”

(Yves thinks he sees them exchange a twenty dollar bill under the table, but he can’t be sure.)

Vincent practices his French with Yves’s parents—Yves fills in for him when he stumbles on a word, or when he hesitates, wracking his memory for a term he can’t quite translate. 

“A fantastic attempt,” his dad says, when Vincent is done talking. “I can’t believe you learned so much in just a few weeks. I can only hope you’ll keep learning..” 

“I will,” Vincent says. “Maybe next time we can have this conversation entirely in French.” There’s no uncertainty to the way he says it. Yves doesn’t mention that there’s a real chance Vincent won’t see them again, after this. It’s not a thought he particularly wants to confront.

At some point, Leon rises to his feet and shouts, in French, “Let’s toast to Aimee and Genevieve, everyone’s favorite couple!”

They all stand and raise their glasses. Yves finds he feels a little unsteady on his feet—maybe he’s had too much to drink. He feels warm, through the flush of alcohol in his cheeks, despite the evening chill. 

He’s marginally worse at covering when he’s tipsy—and worse, too, at anticipating that he’s going to sneeze in the first place. At some point during the night, someone—maybe Vincent, or maybe one of Aimee’s friends from work that are seated nearby—sets down a stack of cocktail napkins in front of him.

Yves just hopes whoever’s put it there knows how grateful he is. The night is getting colder, even though he can’t quite feel it, and his nose is running so much that he finds himself grabbing a new napkin every couple minutes to blow his nose. It’s strange, he thinks, how such a small thing can be so comforting.

At some point, too, Vincent takes the glass of wine out of his hands and switches it out with a different glass. Yves thinks it might be a cocktail, at first, but when he takes a sip, he finds it’s just orange juice.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” Vincent says.

“I haved’t had that much,” Yves says. But come to think of it, his head feels hazy in a way that suggests he’s just a little drunk. “Just a couple— glasses— hh-! hHhEH’IIZSCHh’iIEw! snf-!” He barely manages to cover that sneeze in time.

“Bless you,” Vincent says.

“Ugh.” Yves reaches for another napkin from the stack. He feels a little dizzy, now that he’s paying attention. “I swear, my toleradce - snf-! - used to be a lot better before I graduated.”

Vincent hides a laugh behind one hand. Yves is too tipsy to pretend he doesn’t find that a little endearing.

“What?” he asks, faux-affronted. 

“Nothing,” Vincent says. “I should’ve known that you went to parties and drank irresponsibly.”

Yves laughs. “Along with every other college student in the world.” He turns aside to muffle a cough into his sleeve. Perhaps he hasn’t been especially conscientious about saving his voice this evening—with all the talking he’s been doing, it will probably sound even worse tomorrow. “What, don’t tell me you’ve ndever gotten irresponsibly drunk!”

“Once or twice,” Vincent says, which is a bit of a surprise—he can’t imagine Vincent being drunk enough to lose the air of… well, composure isn’t the right word, perhaps. Professionalism? Self-assuredness? But maybe even drunk Vincent is professional and self-assured, all the same. Yves wonders, faintly, if he’ll ever have the chance to find out. 

—

Dinner winds down slowly. Yves helps Genevieve collect all the name cards, gathers everyone’s plates to set them in a couple neat stacks at the end of the table, says hello to the relatives he’s closer to, and strikes up a conversation with some of Genevieve’s friends, who look to be just a few years older than he is. They talk first about the planning she’d kept them in the loop about, and then about the planning that she’d pulled off behind the scenes. Yves tells them about the many aesthetic and managerial decisions Aimee had consulted him for early on over text. The common consensus seems to be that Aimee and Genevieve are vastly overqualified when it comes to making sure that everything is logistically sound.

“Do you want to head out soon?” Vincent says, after some time, when Yves returns to his seat and some of the other guests have begun to filter out. 

“That might be a good idea,” Yves says.

He says his goodbyes—to his parents, to Leon and Victoire, to Aimee and Genevieve, whom he’ll see tomorrow. Then he follows Vincent out. The hotel is a fifteen minute walk from where they are—some of their relatives have cars, but they’d walked here, and Yves thinks it’d be more work to try to coordinate a ride with someone.

Everything feels bright, Yves thinks, blinking. 

“You’re cold,” Vincent says. It isn’t a question.

Yves realizes, faintly, that he’s shivering. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t feel it that much.”

“That’s because you’re drunk.”

“I’m ndot drunk.”

“Tipsy, then.”

Yves can’t argue with that. “Just a bit. I’ll probably— hhEh-!” He turns aside to direct the sneeze over his shoulder, away from Vincent. HH-! hHEHh’iIITSHh-IIEw! Snf-! —sober up soon.” The end of the sentence catches wrong on his throat and suddenly he’s coughing, a little harshly, into his wrist. The coughing fit is harsh enough to leave him faintly lightheaded, which is a surprise to him.

He thinks it shouldn’t be visible, but Vincent reaches out and grabs his shoulder to steady him. For a moment, Yves contemplates how nice it would be to lean into his touch.

Then he catches himself. He’s tired, but not so tired that he can’t sustain a short walk from the dinner venue to the hotel. It’s dark, but they don’t have any early obligations tomorrow, and it’s not late enough that he won’t have time to shower, get changed, and get a good night’s sleep, with time to spare.

Yves shifts out of Vincent’s touch. “Sorry about that,” he says, with the most convincing smile he can muster. He’s sure Vincent would be understanding if he brought it up, but truthfully, it feels like a waste of time to say anything at all.

Vincent doesn’t reach for him again, but his eyebrows furrow. “Are you okay?” 

“What?”

“You almost fell,” Vincent says.

“I just tripped. The roads aren’t very even, and it’s dark.” They’re standing in the middle of a small, winding cobblestone street. None of the roads around here are very flat for very long.

“Are you saying that because you believe it?” Vincent says. “Or are you saying that so that I stop worrying about this?”

Yves stares at him for a moment too long. He’s sobering up a little.

For a moment, he contemplates telling Vincent everything—about how tired he’s been, all day. About how much it’s taken out of him to keep up this front, the whole day; about how he feels worse than he did waking up this morning—tired and cold and congested, a little unsteady on his feet. If he’s not mistaken, he thinks he might be running a slight fever; it’s hard to tell through the jacket, through the brisk evening air.

Maybe Vincent would understand. Maybe Vincent would insist that he get some rest, tomorrow, before the wedding. Maybe Vincent would tell him that this is all going to be fine—that this wedding that Yves’s been looking forward to for months, that he desperately doesn’t want to mess up, is going to be perfect, just as Aimee and Genevieve has planned it, even if he isn’t feeling his best.

But this is not Vincent’s problem to solve. Yves’s bad timing and his unfortunate circumstances are not Vincent’s responsibility, and Yves extended the invitation because he wanted Vincent to have fun on this trip, and no part of that entails having to look after Yves. Vincent has always been reliable, but Yves can’t start to expect things out of him—to take his kindness as a given, to take more than Vincent is willing to give.

He already asks more than enough of Vincent, as it stands.

“I’m fine,” Yves says, a lie, as easily as any other lie he’s ever told. The smile that follows comes easily, too, though he’s not sure if Vincent can see it in the dark, can’t tell if it’s more to fool Vincent or more to fool himself. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

[ Part 3 ]

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

ooooo I love all your self aware things! Such a cool concept! would you possibly be willing to do it with Poe as well? If not, I understand 🫶

Thanks. I am glad you are enjoying my ideas.🥰

I am planning to write a "general entry" about Poe and other Guild members, but, only after I finish with Port Mafia members.

Until then, you can enjoy this oneshot. I hope you like it.

Party crashed

Self-Aware! Edgar Allan Poe x GN! Reader

Description: Set after BSD characters got into your world. You valued your friendship, really. But you wished your friend stop dragging you to the parties you didn't want to go and then ditch you. But, maybe, this time, things will be different.

Warning: OOC. Toxic friend. English is my second language.

"[F/N], I don't know... I really don't want to go."

"[Y/N], don't be silly, you need to spend time with others! Stop reading your boring books and live a little. The party starts at 9 p.m, don't be late. Or, you know what would happen. Bye!"

Before you can protest, your friend hang up.

You sign. You valued your friendship, really. But you wished your friend stop dragging you to the parties you didn't want to go. It's not like you hate or dislike parties, you liked to spend time with others.

The problem is that your friend not only always bring you to the parties where you don't know anyone, but they always ditch you. The Fun Party isn't fun for you. The parties are loud. The attendants, most of the time, are behaving like drunk animals.

You always felt nervous. Moreover, last time your friend got drunk, and you have to return home by your own. It was almost midnight, you were nervous. Thanks, God, that nothing happened to you, and you got home safely.

You think about what you can do. Your friend are social butterfly. And they can hold the grudge. One time, you dodge the party they invited you. The next day, there were rumors about you ruining the party, because you were the guest of honor that didn't appear. The fact, that you and the person, who arranged the party didn't know each other, was forgotten. As you discover, your friend was the one who started the rumors.

"[Y/N], you brought this upon yourself! I was lonely on the party. Because you didn't go."

You huff. You try to cut your ties with your 'friend'. But it was hard. They start crying every time you try to tell them off. They were playing the victim. You are pretty sure, your chances to make friends with others, currently, are pretty low.

The sound of chittering interrupt your thoughts. You feel something warm and fluffy rubbing on your legs. Looking down, you see Karl, looking at you with big round eyes. You carefully pick up the raccoon, gently scratching him behind the ears. Karl purred.

"It was them, right?" ask Poe, who was standing at the doorway, looking at you. You nod.

"Mhm. They will drag me to the party again. And will ditch me again."

Poe carefully approaches you and place his hand on your shoulder. He is silent. He understands, how scary it is when your only acquaintance abandons you at the party. He decides to stay quiet, but he is ready to listen to your problems.

You continue petting Karl. "I try to say 'no' to them, but they make everyone think that I am in the wrong. When I am not. If only I can be more self-confident, if only I can tell them 'no' once and for all.

Both of you are silent again. Then Poe brightens up: "Say, [Y/N], your friend love the 'Wild Party Spirit'?"

You nod. "Yes, they are. Why?"

Poe leans closer to you and whispers. "I have a plan, how to help you"

After hearing his plan, you grin. It will be fun.

__________________________________

You arrived at the house, where the party will be held. Mushitarou stays in the car.

"[Y/N], there you are! I thought you will never... Who are these?" your friend stop talking and look at your 'escort'.

Apparently, every time you pulled a limited card from Mayoi game with the character, they were getting a new set of clothes. You were glad. It would be really awkward, if you had multiple versions of characters running around.

Some of the characters, who were featured in "Band Scout" decide to accompany you to the party.

Edgar Allan Poe, Tanizaki Junichirou, Nakahara Chuuya, Akutagawa Ryunosuke, Akutagawa Gin and Tachihara Michozu is standing behind you, wearing a band clothes. You smile to your friend.

"Just some acquaintances of mine. They heard about the party. And, after learning that you will be there, they wanted to come too."

[F/N] blinked. "Because of me? Why?"

Chuuya walks forward and grins. "Because you never attend boring parties. [Y/N] description of them makes them look like our kind of party."

Chuuya winks and your friend blush.

"W-well, then you can pass as my guests. Here, follow me. The Party will be wild"

All of you walked after [F/N]. Poe and you glance at each other.

Yes, it will be wild.

________________________________

BSD gang, your real friends, and you, hidden with Junchirou ability, are standing in the middle of the destroyed party room. The guests were hiding. They were shouting something about...

...crazy raccoons...

/You were nervous, that Karl will be in danger, but Poe assure you that raccoon will be fine./

...army of clones...

/Junchirou doesn't need to recreate some monsters, seeing your exact double is terrifying enough./

...not been able to stand up...

/Chuuya has an exceptional control over his ability. But, you thought, that playing "Everybody do the flop" and "I have fallen, and I can't get up" through speakers were a little bit too much./

...black hungry wolves...

/You assured Ryunosuke, that Rasenmon are a dragon, not a canine./

...ghost stabbing them...

/Gin, hidden with Junchiro's ability, was pocking people with tip of her knife./

...and flying metal.

/Tachihara was manipulating all metal he can find. You are glad, that no one has metal teeth./

Your friend were covering under the table. They were trembling. You looked at them, then at the BSD gang.

"Let's go home. Police will be there soon. We made so much noise, I am pretty sure, all of the neighbours already have called the police"

All of you left the house. Mushitarou is already waiting you in the car. He already used his ability and hid all evidence of your involvement in the madness in the party. So, police will find a bunch of people, who are screeching as banshees and talking about raccoons, ghosts and flying metal. Had fun explaining this to the police.

On your way home, you lean against Poe. Karl curled on your lap. All of you were talking with each other.

Poe put his hand on your head and riffle it.

"Well, don't think, they will bother you for some time."

You chuckle.

"Yea. Thanks again, guys. And thanks for you, Poe. For your plan."

You move and plant a kiss on Poe's cheek.

Edgar was redder than a tomato for the rest of the road.

__________

A/N: Yes, raccoons can purr.

[1overbaby]

INNER MOVEMENT - Edward Art, notes

You must truly want it. You cannot simply ‘see’ if there’s a change or not. You must truly want it. The inner man, YOU, must want to be different. You must want to have a new experience inside, you must want to change yourself inside. You are changing yourself inside, your environment inside, the arrangement of the thoughts, are different.

Do not judge thoughts. Let’s not compare thoughts. That is not the point.

THE POINT IS TO FIND WHAT YOU WANT. THE BURNING CONSUMING DESIRE AND FULFIL IT. Until you no longer desire it, until you feel like you are truly experiencing it inside.

It already is so, we do not need the HOW. It just takes me to change into that reality and feel that that reality is my new arrangement inside. AND WE STAY THERE. WE DO NOT VISIT IT, LIKE VACATION - WE STAY THERE.

If you begin to view thoughts as evil, you may begin to view yourself as evil. You are not your thoughts, you are the CREATOR of the thought. Therefore, you can dismiss thoughts and identify with thoughts as you please.

When you start to eat from the tree of life, which is to feel the desire fulfilled, that is better. I wound, and I heal. I trust that I do both.

Think about thoughts as something as true and false, instead of good and evil. I.e., I am unloved - this is not EVIL, this is simply false. :) <33 [I LOVE THIS!]

So, when you desire something, it is the inner man desiring. It is the inner man wanting the change - SO IT IS YOU WANTING TO BE DIFFERENT. If you want others to view yourself differently, it is actually YOU who wants to see yourself differently.

MY NOTE: For example, today i wanted to remove the focus off of my sp and i went into imagination and saw his friend telling me he is glad we are together, because he knew i would be the one [this was my congratulatory scene] -> this scene actually implies the change i want in MYSELF - to know that i truly am the one, that my worth is seen. That it is confirmed that I AM CAPABLE OF BEING THE ONE, AND HAVING IT. -> it really is all about you, you desire yourself, you desire a STATE, never the thing. I just wanted to feel as though i have it, and its seen and shown and just receiving praise for being the one, being adored.

It is a mirror. A living mirror. It is reflecting back to me, who I am, the conception of myself. My I AM is the same, the mirror changes.

Leave the outside world alone, entirely. Just change your movement INSIDE. That is where true movement comes from. All movement truly is within. We must be loyal to this new idea of ourselves. Being in able to stay in it, dwell in it, and fulfil ourselves - we must understand to not judge ourselves. We just have to see it as something we love, and something as truth.

There is nothing wrong with feeling good or lovely. Wasting time is picking apart thoughts.

I tell myself what I am, and i make them tell me what i am for they are my mirror.

You must want to change. But why desire the change. Actually change it. Commit to the change. Do not wait for another to show u the change. Remould the thought to how u wish it to be. Your thoughts are like your paintbrushes :) do not fear what is yours.

[prolix-yuy]

I have never, ever asked anyone for an ask before so I don't know any of the rules for these things. For the pairing, can we ask for a pairing like Marcus Pike x Jack Daniels x Reader (cause Double Agents is a Mood™️ and a Vibe™️) or like either of those Singular x Reader.

And it's ME, so obviously I have to choose "CHAOS and order" as the topic. Chaos is my middle name after all.

Also please feel free to make this as explicit as possible. I mean, as you'd like.

If I did this wrong and I should change something let me know because like I said I've never done this before, so it is to YOU - Tumblr Crush Bestie - that I am losing my ask virginity. Seems fitting! 😉

Aynsley. Oh Aynsley. You come into my house and ask for filth? For chaos? To be as EXPLICIT AS POSSIBLE?

I am happy to provide, my dear Tumblr Crush Bestie!

Sorry it's taken so gosh-darn long, these three were taking their sweet time figuring out the threesome twister game. I hope you enjoy!

Two Truths and a Lie

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

Summary: If you said you didn't want what these two men have in store, you'd be a liar.

Word Count: 6.3k (YOU'RE WELCOME)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, m/m dynamics, mmf dynamics, breast play, biting, oral sex (m and f receiving), handjobs, brief rimming, use of anal plug, anal sex (m receiving), face sitting, PiV sex, everyone's bisexual, aftercare, dirty talking because I'm a slut for it.

Notes: I've been teasing this for so long and it's finally arrived! And I'm embodying the 'chaos' in the request by barely editing this. Should I have? Maybe. Will I deny us any of the filth these three get into? Absolutely not. Enjoy my lovelies!

The first time you lied you didn’t even know what you were doing. Barely speaking full sentences and you pushed a boy over in the playground. He was loud, mean, and you were so full of emotions your little body had to retaliate. But when the teacher came over and asked what happened, you lied.

“He fell.”

The boy was too embarrassed to admit it was you, ushered away by the teacher. And you basked in a new feeling that would grow to be your constant companion: the elation of getting away with it.

Now, much later in life, you’d perfected lying. You lied like you breathed. Tells well hidden, truths spread like jam on burnt bread, just enough to hide the taste. You didn’t want to be punished, or caught. It wasn’t about waiting for someone to call you out. Lying was a language you spoke fluently and without equal, and was a competition with only yourself as audience.

Take tonight, for example. You’d lied to your friends that you didn’t feel well enough to go out. You’d lied to the bartender about why you were here. You’d even lied to the Uber driver, who could care less why you were coming to a swank hotel bar this late at night. But that’s three unsuspecting participants and three more tallies on the invisible scoreboard. 

The truth, not that you’d ever say it, was that you were bored. Endlessly, achingly bored. If you had to listen to one more pregnancy story, or upcoming wedding plans, or theorize on whatever show everyone was watching this time, you might actually scream. So tonight you forewent the Mexican restaurant your friends love and came here.

The bar is lush in a way that makes you salivate. Burgundy velvet chairs flank dark leather Chesterfield couches, artfully arranged to create the illusion of privacy underneath the cathedral ceilings. Royal blue and black brocade wallpaper flanks you as you approach the bar, black walnut wrapped around a towering wall of liquor. The stools glint gold as you slide onto one, balancing delicately. It’s not until you put in your drink order and settle back that you see them.

Once you do, you’re not sure how they escaped your observation. Two men seated at a high top overlooking city lights, casually sipping from rocks glasses. One is clean shaven, short haired and neatly dressed. Corporate attire - a tidy suit, tie, crisp white shirt. His face is soft in the table’s candlelight, eyes crinkled in the corners enough to know he enjoys himself without reservation. 

The other man holds some of the same features - large hands swirling alcohol in his tumbler, dark hair and eyes, a broad build - but the similarities end with the confidence he’s exuding. His outfit is more cowboy chic, dark jeans and a gray suit jacket over a light pink shirt with a peek of suspenders under the lapel. His boots hook over a stool rung, tilted back as his companion leans forward. The smirk painting his face paired with his teasing eyes quirks a smile of your own. Definitely cocksure, and possibly for good reason if those tight jeans were anything to go by.

Then the cowboy reaches across the table and pinches the other man’s chin between his thick fingers, a softer look gracing his face. The other man flushes a light pink, eyes casting down as his smile turns bashful.

Suddenly you’re too hot, snapping your gaze back to your drink.

Not for you.

Not that you’d assumed either of them would turn their attention your way. They were both your type in a room with surprisingly few options, but the night is young, and your drink has barely been touched. You lift it to your lips for a small sip, letting the liquor burn in the way good sex can light you aflame (an experience you’d been low on lately) when a voice murmurs at your shoulder.

“Drinking alone?” 

The blushing companion is now at your elbow, respectful but close enough that it makes your skin tingle. He leans on the bar, nodding once to the bartender with a smile before redirecting his attention back to your purposefully neutral expression.

“For now,” you reply cryptically, taking a sip of your drink as you peek at him over the rim. His smile widens, a glint of teeth between soft, kissable lips. Shouldn’t have been fantasizing about a conquest tonight, now you’re too keyed in to a man who’s out of your league in several ways. 

“Would you like some company while you wait? My partner and I have a table,” he says as two glasses slide into his grasp. You shrug.

“My friends will be here soon.”

Liar.

“Of course. One drink.”

“Only one.”

Liar.

“As the lady wishes.”

One drink turns into two, your wits still about you but your attention pleasingly bewitched by the couple. Marcus, the one who approached, is an FBI agent specializing in art crimes, which you unabashedly question him about while the cowboy smirks in your periphery. 

“You can tell the difference between a fake and an original on sight?” 

Marcus chuckles into the rim of his glass, tongue peeking out to stop an errant drop. 

“Only the very bad ones. The good ones need analysis, imaging, carbon dating. But it’s amazing to see how far someone will go.”

His knee knocks into yours and remains there.

The cowboy’s name is Jack Daniels, which makes you scoff until he raises an eyebrow at you. He even works at a distillery, though he was a field agent in a past life. That’s how he and Marcus met, the mention exchanging fondness that makes you gaze into your own drink for distraction. He orders a round of Statesman as proof of his fine taste, and you have to agree it’s much better than the whiskey most men offer you as though you know nothing of liquor. 

He lifts his boot to catch on the low rung of your stool, opening the span of his thighs to you. If you didn’t know better you would think these two were…

“We have a question for you, darlin,” Jack says when the drinks run dry, pinning you with a smirk. You straighten your spine, chin lifted to pre-empt your refusal.

You didn’t want to see what these men might offer.

Liar.

“Marcus saw you come in and thought you were about the prettiest thing he’d laid eyes on. But I’m a little more discerning. I like women to be smarter than me.” You roll your eyes but he keeps on running that smooth Southern drawl. “Which you are. Clearly. So I’m gonna ask you this for the both of us, and it only goes for the both of us. Package deal.”

Your eyes dart between Jack and Marcus, observing their drastically different postures. Marcus is nervous, hands folded tightly in front of him, eyes locked on them as he worries at his lower lip. Jack, on the other hand, is a man negotiating a deal and has all the confidence in the world, though he’s tuned in to Marcus’ discomfort. You wonder briefly if this is how they work best, Jack taking the lead. The thought blares heat across your chest.

“What would you like to ask?” you reply cooly, even though your heart hammers so loud you’re sure they can hear it. It’s under control until Jack’s eyes flick down to your hand worrying at your glass. His gaze flits up - caught.

“We’d like to invite you up to our room,” Jack says simply, leaning back in his seat. Marcus finally tears his eyes from his hands and watches for your reaction. You smirk at them both.

“For a nightcap?” you ask innocently, but the dark humor that spreads over Jack’s face shakes your resolve.

“No, darlin, we’d like to invite you into our bed. If that’s favorable to you, of course,” Jack says, the game ping-ponging between you as Marcus watches. 

“I assumed I wasn’t your type,” you stall, interrogating yourself about the offer. Did you want to let them lead you away from here? 

You’re definitely not bored anymore. If anything you’re aching at the thought.

“You are,” Marcus interjects, pulling your attention from Jack’s intense stare. His face is open, eager, kind. He seems like the kind of man who wears soft sweaters and asks you how your day was and actually listens. What a pair they make. 

“I’d like to have an idea of what I’m getting myself into before agreeing to anything,” you say, but your voice is getting shakier by the minute. Marcus slides his hand across the table, fingertips lightly grazing the back of your hand. It’s grounding, comforting.

Electric.

“Safety for everyone, of course. Protection all around,” Jack says, speaking in a low voice that urges you to lean forward. It gives him the opportunity to graze his fingers along your thigh in a featherlight touch that burns you with arousal. “Marcus likes it when I take charge, but you’re our guest so whatever your comfort level is, we’ll respect. If you’d like to take a break or end it at any time, we stop.”

Then Jack leans in and destroys the final barriers between you and your decision.

“We both like to eat pussy, and will make you cum several times before fucking you. Marcus likes to be inside while I fuck him, but I’d like to feel you squeeze around me too. I won’t leave marks if you ask, but I like to use my mouth, and my teeth. Marcus wants to kiss you, often, and very thoroughly. He might be quiet now, but he’s vocal as hell when you get him riled up. I’m likely to never shut up unless my mouth’s busy.” 

Your breath is coming in quick pants now, Marcus’ fingers sliding along the back of your hand to open your fist and slip inside. Jack’s heavy hand on your thigh feels like all that’s keeping you held to the earth. Sensing your hesitation, Marcus leans in and breathes into your ear.

“Would you like that, sweetheart?”

You don’t hear your agreement over the rushing in your ears, but their twin smiles of satisfaction confirm it.

Staring into the mirror and psyching yourself up to leave the bathroom, you adjust your lingerie for the eighth time. Mauve lace clings to your breasts, your hips, just opaque enough to be pretty instead of lewd. In this moment you wish it was more exciting, more daring for these men who offered you a spot in their bed. How tame you must seem after all the bravado you showed in the bar.

You’re not ready for this.

Liar.

Gathering up your last bit of courage, you saunter into the hotel bedroom. You’d left Jack and Marcus there fully clothed, knowing smiles and the beginnings of flirty touches the last thing you’d seen. Now, you’re treated to a much more mouthwatering sight.

Jack is seated on the edge of the bed, jacket discarded and suspenders loose by his thighs. His shirt is messy and untucked, one final button around his stomach holding on for dear life after all the others abandoned their posts. His pants are open, and as you come to a stop you’re treated to Marcus’ deep groan as he swallows Jack’s cock to the base. His throat works as Jack tips his head back and sighs, hips gyrating a fraction against Marcus’ eager mouth. 

Fuck, it’s hot and drives a spike of arousal straight to your cunt. Marcus’ strong back, bare and rippling across Jack’s lap, begs for your fingers to dig into his meaty shoulders. You catch him palming at his crotch, big brown eyes opening to look up at Jack. He’s rewarded with thick fingers carding through his short brown hair, pulling back to breathe heavily on the tip of Jack’s cock before descending again.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Jack rasps when you realize you’ve been staring too long. His hand extends to you, and for a moment you think it’s better to leave them to it. They clearly have history, and chemistry. You don’t belong here.

Liar.

You slide your hand into Jack’s, letting him lead you to sit beside him. Sinking into his side, he gives you the perfect view to look down at Marcus’ thorough deep-throating. His eyes drag up, and the hand gripping Jack’s thigh now comes to rest on yours. He’s firm but gentle, kneading the flesh there.

“I’d like to kiss you, sweetheart,” Jack whispers into the shell of your ear, dragging his lips just to your neck to press a featherlight kiss. You’re hesitant, but he lets you breathe against his mouth before leaning forward just enough to press your lips together. The wet mouth noises Marcus is choking out below you are a strange soundtrack to the sweetness of Jack’s kiss. He plies you with a few more, fuller, more forceful, before dragging his tongue over the seam of your lips. You part eagerly for him, meeting his full stroke with your quicker tongue. Jack groans into your mouth, the beginning of a smile curling against the corner of your lips. 

“Now him,” he says, leaning back and guiding your head down to Marcus. He slips off Jack’s wet cock, jutting thick and proud, and rises on his knees to take your head in his hands. There’s less hesitation here; you melt fully into Marcus’ kiss. Jack was right, Marcus kisses thoroughly, patiently, diving deep before pulling back to let you breathe. It builds a fire under your skin, your nails digging into his shoulders. 

Distantly you feel Jack’s thick fingers unclasp your bra, then his hands - callused in places that made you wonder if he was a real cowboy once - guide you to lay back on the bed. You part from Marcus with a small sigh, but Jack follows you down, the scrape of his mustache on your throat as he slips his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. Settling on your back, Marcus’ hands slide under your knees and soon the smooth expanse of his back surges under your calves. 

“Look at this,” Marcus hums, stroking down your thighs. Jack hums in agreement as he slips your bra off, the cool air tightening your nipples. “Anything you don’t like, sweetheart?” Jack’s mouth distracts you as he blows across the swell of your breast, making your back arch at the sensation.

“No teeth,” you say, finally hazarding a look down your body at the men driving you to madness. Jack looks visibly disappointed, which makes you tug at his well-coiffed locks. “For him, not you.” Marcus breaks into a smile and honest-to-goodness chuckles between your legs, and Jack winks up at you before a slip of pink tongue wraps around your nipple. Any further instruction is wiped from your mind as you arch into the clever heat of his mouth, paired with the squeeze of his other hand around your neglected breast. His teeth graze your nipple, hips rolling involuntarily before getting pressed firmly into the bed.

“Can’t wait to taste this,” Marcus murmurs, and two fingers slide underneath the gusset of your panties, knuckles dragging through your folds. He leaves open-mouthed kisses below your bellybutton, dragging his nose down to smell you through the thin lace. You want so desperately to focus but so many hands pulling you apart so effortlessly has your eyes rolling up into your head and your body writhing. 

Finally, Marcus licks a wide path along your lacy slit as Jack rolls your nipple between his fingers and you keen out a desperate moan.

“Oh, baby, sounds like someone needs you to make her cum,” Jack teases into your neck, sliding his hand down and into your panties to tease your aching clit. Marcus is still licking along the lace, pressing his tongue at your entrance just enough that their touches light up every nerve carrying pleasure to your lust-soaked brain.

“Let me take these off you and get you all over my face,” Marcus purrs, lifting your hips to drag the last scrap of clothing off your body. They’re both still half-clothed and looking at you like a goddess draped across the bed, and it almost makes you balk.

Liar. It makes you even more excited.

Jack removes his fingers, sucking them into his mouth with a low hum while Marcus noses your inner thigh. You can’t stop your legs from trembling, but Marcus’ firm grip steadies you as he finally licks a slow path through your folds.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, arching into the pillows as Jack presses your hips back on the bed. 

“He’s good, ain’t he? Wicked tongue on him, and I swear he’s half fish, never needs to come up for air,” Jack teases, pressing his body against your side and stroking through Marcus’ short hair. He nips at your earlobe as Marcus begins lapping rhythmically at your entrance, his nose firm on your clit and his jaw bobbing against you. The waves of his tongue, the jolt of that hawkish nose, the dark pride simmering in his eyes as he watches you, all burn under your skin. Your orgasm is fast approaching, nipples tight and aching. Sliding your thumb over one, you coax the honey-sweet ache of arousal out against Marcus’ tongue. Jack notices and joins you, stroking his rougher ones over the sensitive buds. His cock ruts lazily against your hip, and you slide your hand around him to pump him in time with your rolling hips.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so good,” he praises, sinking his teeth into the top of your breast just hard enough that prickles of pain pull you away from your heady arousal. It slams back into you the moment he releases the sensitive flesh, laving his tongue over the indents his teeth left behind.

“C’mon baby, that’s it, you’re so close,” Marcus encourages between your legs, lips barely leaving before doubling down. His whole head rocks against your cunt, long licks and drags of his lips and nose and chin through your messy sex. He must be coated in you, thick and tangy across his clean-shaven face. If Jack did the same, he’d carry you in that perfectly groomed mustache.

That image, Jack with his mustache dripping with your release, tightens your core as Marcus urges your hips to roll against him, chasing your orgasm frantically as he growls into your cunt. 

“Give it to me, baby, cum on my face, I know you have it right there for me, fucking give it to me. Cum on me. Cum on me now,” he orders, and with Jack’s whispered “He’s been so good, cum for him sweetheart,” you’re tightening around Marcus’ head and shaking through a fucking full-body orgasm. Faintly you hear Marcus chanting, “Yes, yes, that’s it baby, that’s it,” and Jack purring a diatribe of, “Good girl, you’re cumming so good for us, look at that, fucking gorgeous.” The room fades around the edges, the boys all you can focus on. Marcus’ eyes are shining with triumph, wiping his face as he beams up between your legs. Jack hovers over you, pride and sinful promise in his smile.

“That was a very good one, Marcus. Gonna give me a run for my money,” he says, stroking your cheek as you try to come back to the real world from your sky-high journey. The comforting warmth at your side fades as Jack sits up on the bed, tugging Marcus by his hair. Blearily you watch them kiss, tongues peeking out from their pressed lips as Jack tastes you on Marcus. He reaches down and deftly unbuttons Marcus’ pants, shoving everything down to reveal his weeping cock. Jack’s palms it, nodding to Marcus who leans over just enough to spit on his own cock before Jack gives him a few slow, firm strokes. You can tell how much Marcus is affected, mouth dropping into an O as his eyes drifting shut. Jack indulges him a few passes more before pulling a condom out of his pocket.

“Fill her up, pretty boy, she’s been so patient.”

You prop yourself up on shaky elbows as Marcus rolls the condom on, hazy gaze kindling the remains of your orgasm into a new possibility. He slots his hips between your thighs, crawling up your body to kiss you with the remains of your taste on his tongue. Jack stole most of it, but you can still relish in your tang.

“I want to fuck you, baby, can I? I’ll stretch you out good first,” he asks against your lips, the head of his cock resting just on your mound. He fists it and draws circles on your clit with the tip, your spine pulling tight up under him.

“Yes, Marcus, want you inside me,” you gasp, but before he fits his perfect cock inside he pumps two gloriously thick fingers into your cunt, stroking at your velvet soaked walls before curling them wickedly.

“So tight. Fuck, Jack, you’re gonna love this,” Marcus husks, scissoring his fingers and swirling his thumb over your sensitive clit. 

“Want to show her what you’ve been hiding, handsome?” Jack asks innocently, but you see goosebumps raise along Marcus’ arms and shoulders when the cowboy nips at his ear, winking at you. “Reach back here, darlin’, and feel,” Jack instructs as you follow the path of his hand around Marcus’ hip. He guides you to the smooth base of the plug in Marcus’ ass, making him shudder when you press your fingers against it.

“He’s been waiting all night for this, would you let me fuck him while he fucks you?” Jack asks. You trace a finger around Marcus’ stretched hole and he drops his head to your shoulder with a choked groan.

“You want that, Marcus? Want to fill me while Jack fills you?” His stuttering breath warms your neck as he nods. Reaching back, you prop yourself up with a couple pillows so you can better watch, your hands cupping Marcus’ face as Jack slowly works the plug out of him. When his mouth drops open you stroke your thumb along his bottom lip, pulling his attention from any discomfort back to you. Marcus empties out a sigh when Jack pulls the sensible black plug from him and places it on the bedside table. He returns with a slim bottle of lube that he dribbles onto his fingers.

“Now Marcus, I want you to put the tip in her and get yourself good and hard while I slide into your pert little ass. Once I’m in and you’re settled I’ll set the pace. Don’t want you hurting yourself.” The gentle instruction warms your skin as Jack smooths his hands over Marcus’ back and sides. He nods and you stroke your fingers through his hair reassuringly.

“You’re gonna feel so good inside me,” you say, circling your hips against his cock as he fists himself again. 

“You’re beautiful,” Marcus whispers, and as he wedges just the tip of his thick cock inside you he presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder. The shallow stretch makes your toes curl, one of Jack’s hands massaging your calf as his mouth smacks against Marcus’ spine.

“Ready?” he asks one last time.

“Yes, Jack, please…”

The litany of moans and gasps Marcus litters onto your skin lights your arousal further aflame as Jack curses and pushes in. You’re enraptured by the concentration on his face, the tick of his jaw and swipes of his tongue over his lower lip as he thrusts shallowly into Marcus’ tight channel. You can feel every jolt in your cunt when he presses Marcus just a little further forward, burying himself just a little deeper inside you. It’s slow as cold molasses and driving Marcus to bliss. When he begins backing up against Jack you stroke his back, and Jack’s larger hand covers yours.

“Fuck, feel so full,” Marcus manages to say, and Jack leans over to kiss along his shoulders. Your mouth is already at the juncture of his neck, and Jack meets your lips with his own. Marcus turns his head enough to kiss you behind your ear, and to catch the hinge of Jack’s sharp jaw with a scrape of teeth.

“Okay sweethearts, I’m gonna fuck you now. Slow to start. Get our rhythm.” Jack then pulls back and thrusts forward hard enough to bury the rest of Marcus’ length inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, Marcus already being guided back out before Jack fucks him back into you. “Oh holy shit, ohhhh fuck, yes, please, oh fuck it’s so good,” you moan brokenly, Marcus cupping your cheek and pressing his mouth to yours. You open for him, his tongue plunging into you as he pounds your cunt over and over again. The wet slaps are offset by the slick squelches of Jack’s cock fucking into Marcus, timing his thrusts just right to let you both feel every ridge and vein inside and around you. 

“Fuck, you both are so fucking hot,” Jack grits out, one hand gripping your hip, the other Marcus’, as he set a faster pace. Marcus drops to his elbows and rolls his hips harder, snapping into you and back onto Jack. The quiet moans he was hiding before erupt into full-throated shouts, which Jack muffles by shoving his fingers into Marcus’ mouth. He drools around them, and when his glazed eyes meet yours you lick the back of Jack’s knuckles and over Marcus’ lips.

“Filthy girl, knew you were,” Jack pants. “You close, handsome?” 

Marcus nods frantically, eyebrows pinching and fisting the sheets as he speeds up from Jack’s rhythm to chase his orgasm. Jack chuckles before folding over you both, crushing Marcus to your chest.

“I’ve got you, baby boy.” With that Jack pounds into you both, Marcus buried so deep you can feel Jack’s thrusts nudge him against your g-spot. You grip their hair, Jack’s eyes locking with yours as he growls through each thrust. 

“Call him a good boy, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Marcus, you’re so good for me, feel so good inside. Cum for me like a good boy, Marcus.”

That’s all it takes, and Marcus is howling into your neck as Jack grinds deep. His cock pulses heavily inside you, the force of his orgasm shivering through his limbs as they lock and release. Finally he lets go, slumping his full weight onto your chest. Jack kisses the back of his neck, fingers stroking down his arms and soothing him through the aftershocks.

“You’ve got a way with him, darlin’, he rarely cums that hard,” Jack coos, sliding his arms around Marcus to guide him off. Rolling him to his back, Jack peppers Marcus’ face with soft kisses as he weakly throws an arm around Jack’s back. His other hand searches for yours, twining your fingers together as he blinks sleepily between you both.

“Shit, that was amazing,” he croaks, sending Jack to the bathroom for a glass of water and to dispose of the condoms. “C’mere, wanna hold you,” he adds, tugging you to curl up against his side. His hands roam your back, nose pressed against your forehead as his rapid heartbeat begins to slow. It’s oddly romantic, happy to give and receive this moment of comfort. But you’re sure it’s the end of the night, and you’ll be fine going back home soon.

Liar.

“Now darlin’, as good of a time as it looks like you were having, I don’t think you came,” Jack says once Marcus has had a good long drink and settled back into the pillows. 

“I had plenty of fun,” you say lazily, stroking Marcus’ chest as it rises and falls. Jack tuts and shakes his head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Told you I wanted to eat your pussy too. Come sit on my face and let me give you another. Then, if you’re not too tired out, I’ll have you sit on my cock too.” 

Heat races over your body, and Marcus unwinds you from his arms. 

“Go on, gorgeous, Jack’s tongue is a treat you should never turn down,” he teases. “I’ll be along as soon as I catch my breath.”

Sitting up, you scoot closer to Jack as a strange nervousness settles in. Marcus is so open and easy to read, while Jack’s expressions always seem veiled behind a layer of showmanship and bravado. You find yourself worrying that you won’t be enough for him, for what he wants.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Jack interrupts your racing thoughts as he strokes his palm up your thigh. You shake your head, forcing a smile on.

“Nothing,” you say, your voice catching in your throat. Jack chews on his lower lip for a moment, then wraps his arms around your waist and guides you onto his lap. Straddling him, you hover as he pets your hips, smooths your back, and noses your neck with a gentle kiss along your collarbone.

“If it’s nerves, honey, then know that I have been looking forward to tasting, and fucking you all night. I want your tits in my mouth, your pussy, your tongue. I want to devour you, you’re so delicious.” He guides your hips down to press against his cock, hard and hot as he slips the soft skin against your wet folds. “You cannot possibly disappoint me, I could cum from your voice alone.” 

“Jack…” you breathe, and he leans back, pulling you along with him. Once flat on his back he guides your nipple into his mouth, humming indulgently as he teases the bud with his fast tongue and harsh sucks. You arch into his mouth, the length of his cock grinding against your clit. Switching to the other one, he nips lightly and chuckles when you jolt against him. His large hands paw at your ass, spreading your cheeks and kneading at the supple flesh. He cracks his hand against one with a sharp slap, soothing it with a stroke after. You’re dripping on him now, grinding along his length.

“Perfect, sweetheart, now climb up and put that hot little pussy on my face,” he orders, and all self-consciousness drips away as you climb up his body. Before you settle around his shoulders he taps your hip and guides you to swing around so you’re facing his neglected cock, hovering over his greedy mouth.

“Want your hand around my cock while I eat you out,” he says before pulling you down on his face. 

No matter the thorough fucking you just endured, Jack’s thick tongue sends a shudder up your spine, needing to grab his wrists. He hums into your folds, faster flicks than Marcus against your clit.

“I’m gonna drink you down, darlin’,” he purrs into your cunt, canting your hips so he can better seal his pouty lips around your clit. Falling forward, you loosely stroke Jack’s aching cock, throbbing with need after being denied his orgasm. Letting a dribble of spit drip onto his length, you slick him up to take a tighter grip. When your fingers glance over the ridge of his head his stomach tightens, hips rocking up to meet your strokes. 

“Your cock is gorgeous, Jack,” you praise, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the tip. The groan he lets out vibrates against your sex, eliciting your own pleasured sigh as he slips his tongue inside you.

“He’s very good at using it,” Marcus says just next to your shoulder, sliding off the bed to kneel between Jack’s knees. He replaces your hand on Jack’s cock, urging you to sit back up on Jack’s face. He worships your breasts with soft sucks and nibbles, working you both up higher and higher. You can feel Jack’s movements getting sloppier, distracted gasps bursting between your legs when he takes a moment to bask in his own pleasure. You weave your hands into Marcus’ hair, scratching along his scalp as he kisses his way up your neck and back to your waiting mouth. 

“Mmm, sweetheart he’s not gonna last much longer, and I know he wants to cum in you too. Let me wrap him up and then you can fuck his cock.” Marcus takes a moment to tear open a condom as you shuffle down Jack’s body. His mouth leaves you with a parting lick to your back entrance, the ticklish sensation making you giggle and scratch your nails down his flexing stomach. When you’re hovering over his cock, Marcus’ hand on the base guiding Jack in, he sits up behind you. 

“Most beautiful thing I’ll ever get to experience,” Jack murmurs, plastering his chest to your back and wrapping his arms around you. He guides you down as Marcus steadies him in, filling you so differently but so completely. 

“Fuck, Jack, you feel amazing,” you croon, head thrown back against his shoulder. Marcus lifts up on his knees to kiss Jack, clever fingers petting at your clit as you lift up just enough to let Jack feel the drag of your tight cunt, then back down to his base to elicit a wanton groan.

“Darlin’, you feel like heaven. Don’t know how Marcus didn’t bust immediately.” Marcus nips his Adam’s apple and switches to mouthing at your throat, both of their lips dancing along the expanse of your sweat-slicked skin. Sandwiched between them, the slide of their bodies against yours is addictive, intoxicating, endless in the pleasure it brings. Your cunt clenches around Jack, and he chuckles darkly in your ear before snapping his hips up into you.

“There’s my good girl, so tight around me. I’m gonna fuck you as hard and long as I can, but fuck me if you don’t feel like the best thing I’ve ever put my cock in.” Jack grabs the back of Marcus’ head and pulls him back to meet eyes. “Lick her clit, pretty boy.”

You didn’t think your arousal could climb any higher, but looking down to see Jack’s length sliding in and out of you paired with Marcus sinking down to lick a stripe from the base of Jack’s cock to your clit almost kills you. Marcus’ boyish smile would be your gravestone if you didn’t remember to breathe.

“Holy fuck,” you choke out as he lays out his thick pink tongue to stroke over and over along your joined bodies.

“Damn right, you’re doing so good for us Marcus,” Jack grits out, pulling you down on his fat cock so you don’t bounce away from Marcus’ talented tongue.

“Could do better,” Marcus says thoughtfully, reaching for the bottle of lube. Slicking up his fingers, he slides his hand down to tease Jack’s rim.

“Fuck, baby, you know how I like that,” Jack groans, bringing a wicked smile to Marcus’ face. Kissing your mound, Jack tenses hard under you with a broken gasp. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck, yes baby, that’s fucking perfect, you keep your fingers right there while I cum in her. Just like that, sweet boy.”

Leaning down you grab Marcus by the jaw and devour him, teeth clacking briefly as you fill his mouth with your tongue. He whimpers below you before you part, lips spit-slicked and slacked.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart, Marcus you better…” Jack threatens but Marcus is already latching his mouth onto your clit, sucking hard and fast while his fingers flex inside Jack. The relentless grind against your g-spot, the ruthless pressure on your clit, the overwhelming ache that can’t build anymore before it needs to go somewhere washes over you, and you cum with a wail on these two gorgeous men. Jack follows as your walls flutter around him, with a litany of, “That’s it baby, your pussy’s so fucking good, I’m…oh shit, I’m cumming, M-Marcus baby don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop, oh shiiiiii…” You faintly wonder if Marcus came again before a spurt of hot cum against your calf answers your question.

The silence that follows, filled with gasps and panting and weak hands on skin, is the moment you dread. It’s the last moment before the peace and quiet in your mind fades, urging you to gather up your clothes and go before you say something or do something that will ruin this. But with Marcus wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder, and Jack pressed against your back, you have no place to go. 

“Thank you, darlin’, that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, wouldn’t you agree?” Jack says, pressing a line of kisses from behind your ear to the curve of your shoulder. Marcus leans back and thumbs your chin, tired eyes and a loose smile.

“Definitely. Can we take care of you now, sweetheart?” 

Your eyebrows must have pulled up into a frown, because Marcus chuckles just a little and cradles your head.

“What, you thought we’d fuck you and make you leave?” he teases, and you have to school your face carefully. You didn’t expect them to be this caring, or kind.

Liar.

Then you didn’t expect them to want more than your body once they were through.

Liar.

Then what did you expect?

Marcus thankfully speaks, similar to that that soothing way Jack enticed you here.

“Well then, I’m going to take you into the shower to clean you up, and Jack’s gonna make the bed and join us after. Once we’re clean and hydrated, I’m going to put on The Thin Man and we’re going to get into bed together. If you’re not comfortable spending the night, I understand. But I - we - want you to. Not just because tomorrow morning I want to wake you up with both of our heads between your legs.” Jack slides out of you and holds you in his arms, nuzzling into the back of your neck. 

“I don’t…” you try to say, both men waiting patiently. “I didn’t expect this. I don’t know what to do now.”

Liar.

You know exactly what to do. 

Stay.

Marcus’ lopsided smile and Jack’s pressed into your skin are promises you never asked for, but would gladly accept.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

END

[queers-gambit]

The Inky Green Council

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: the Greens gather and make their first move. you’re the inky black spot in a sea of emerald.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.6k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, whatever else, not edited! canon-level incest, violence, dialogue, basically the whole of episode nine, author is also slightly confused 'cause she's working backwards. ❗️major season one, episode nine spoilers

"Gods be fucking good!"

"Don't stop! C'mon, my Dragon, get there! Get there!"

"'S too much, love! Shit!"

"Bit longer - almost there!"

"Oh, fuck! C'mon!"

"THERE!" You grinned in triumph, pausing to pant when the new chase lounge was properly in place beneath the window. Aemond panted heavily after doing most of the lifting, almost glaring at you but you saw the amusement beneath his facade.

"You're sure?" He asked, slumping into the side of the lounge.

"Yep," you nodded at him, hands to your hips with pride as you looked at the new arrangement. "Or perhaps it would look better over there?" Aemond groaned your name with reprimand, making you giggle. "I am only jesting, love, I like it where it is, under the window!"

"Good, good, 'cause 's not moving again," he sighed as he dropped into the cushioned seat. He looked around for a moment, stroking the imported velvet, chuckling lightly, "You know, I must admit, kinda glad you talked me into this material."

"See?" You smiled at him, taking the comfortable position on your husband's lap - where the arm of the chase cradled your back and his ribcage; letting your legs rest across his lap as his arm wrapped around your shoulder blades. "Nice, isn't it?"

He sighed with defeat, "It is."

"Do not sound so grumpy, you can admit I had a good idea that you're actually liking," you teased him, arms moving to lock around his neck. "Hmm? C'mon, let me hear you say it."

Aemond chuckled, "It was a good idea, my love. Nicely done."

"Thank you," you chirped, leaning in to peck his smirking lips. "Just wait until you fuck me on it - there's plenty of positions on this piece of furniture alone. You're welcome in advance."

"Is that why it's shaped as it is?"

"Mhm," you hummed with a smirk. "It'll come in handy when I'm heavier with child."

"Why wait to test it, then?" He smirked, leaning in to trap your lips in a kiss. He hummed with satisfaction, savoring the taste of you after a long day and night.

"Because it is late, my sweet," you whined, letting him kiss you again.

"But you look delectable, my Princess," he purred, tugging your hips easily to swivel so you sat forward on him. His own lifted to allow you room; both readjusting to the new position of your straddle. Aemond sighed and let his hands drift to your stomach. "You're truly sure? This is not some dream we are sharing?"

"I would not have told everyone if I wasn't sure," you nodded, hands softly laying over his. "I've known for longer than I care to admit."

"You did not wish to tell me?"

"It's not that," you sighed. "I just worried myself for nothing. I let my own thoughts get the best of me, I know it was wrong. But the Maester told me something that I could not rid from my mind."

"Would you like to clue me in, or must we first play a guessing game?" He whispered with a smirk, chuckling lowly.

You scooted forward so your hips were pressed together, but kept his hands on your waist. He let his hands drift to caress your lower belly, and you admitted, "Apparently... If a woman is to lose a babe in the womb, it is usually often within the first three months of conception. So, I did not wish to tell you in case something happened and I... And I lost the babe. I don't think I could handle telling you I was with child, and then lost that child, Aemond."

Aemond's brows furrowed, making you reach up to caress his cheek. "But what if you had lost them, pet? I wouldn't have known, wouldn't have been able to help you."

"I don't know if you or I can help what happens," you whispered. "At this point, it's all internal and by the fate of the Gods. If you'd like, perhaps we could visit the Maester in the morning and we can discuss possibilities?"

"There are more?"

"There are many symptoms that even I did not know about," you chuckled lightly, reaching back to release his eye patch. You caressed his cheek with one hand as the other pulled the leather strap away, letting it fall to the cushion beside you both.

"Like what?" He sighed, doing better about being completely bare with you. It wasn't an overnight thing, and through your marriage, Aemond often waned in his comfort at letting you see his scars.

He was doing much better now, thankfully.

"Well, like, insomnia - "

"The bloody hell is that?"

"Thought you were the educated brother," you teased gently, leaning in to peck his lightly-pouting lips. "It is a new term, my love, even the Grand Maester was nervous to use it. But it in essence means trouble sleeping - either falling asleep, staying asleep, or both."

"Well, whenever my love needs a nap, she'll have one," he promised with a tease, pecking your lips.

"And there's accounts of nightmares," you pouted.

"Hmm," he considered for a moment. "Then you shall never sleep alone. I would not let you endure this by yourself."

You smiled at him. "And when I'm feeling bloated, and I'm having cramps or feeling gassy? With nosebleeds? When my skin turns to that of a young lad's? Not to mention I'll have heightened senses of smells, taste, touch..."

He shrugged, "You act as if I am going to turn away from you. You're creating life, my sweet girl. Whatever you need, I'm here for - even if that's just laying in bed and complaining. I'm okay with it."

You pouted dramatically at him, "How can you be real?"

His eyes rolled, "Well, 's not like you got pregnant by yourself, is it? Least I can do is be here for you. I cannot bare this weight for you," his hands caressed your stomach again, but with meaning, "but I will walk this path with you at whatever capacity you'd like. Ask it of me, pet, and you will have it."

"Careful, husband, or I might get used to your spoiling."

You grinned when Aemond blanched at you, hands dropping to bounce on the material of the chase lounge you sat on. "This wasn't spoiling enough to convince you? What of the gems that I wrap around your neck, hmm?" He let a hand drift up to pet a fingertip along your collarbone. "Do they convince you?"

"In honest, I think I prefer your hand, actually," you teased, taking hold of his wrist to guide him; where his finger naturally curled around your neck to press to your pulse points.

"Makes for a pretty necklace. But I prefer those pearls I got you."

"Oh," you gasped, pulling his hand away as he laughed at your change of attention, "those are exquisite - I should wear them more often!"

"You should," he agreed. "Now, are you truly tired? Or do you have more furniture we need to move?"

"You say that like I was the one who made the late-night delivery," you scoffed gently at him, watching his lips spread in a grin. "But be serious for a moment with me?"

He nodded in agreement, clearing his throat, "All right, about what, my sweet wife?"

"Seeing the Maester with me," you sighed. "We can both hear what he's to say about pregnancy, and perhaps, we can ask Helaena together about her own experience."

"I know parts of what to expect," he sighed.

"But then we'll know in full - eliminates surprises, right?"

"He'd still be at our call should we worry," he grumbled, letting his head lean back with a sigh. His eye closed and you leaned forward to nuzzle under his chin. "We'll seek him out in the morning, pet."

"Thank you," you whispered, turning your chin up so you could peck the underside of his own. "Does that mean bed?"

"Hmmm," he considered, but otherwise didn't move. So you didn't, either. His arms tightened, and you snuggled closer to let your thighs squeeze his hips in a hug. "All right," he finally relented, "you sure you don't want to break this new thing in?"

You chuckled, "Can I be on top?"

"Oh, you devilish woman - c'mere," he barked a quick laugh, using his hips to jut you upwards; one hand catching your cheek to guide your lips in for a soul-sucking kiss.

"No, no, no, no, Aemond, no, no, no, wait, no, wait, Gods damn it, why must you have the longest bloody legs!?" You leapt off the exam table, sparing a glare to the Grand Maester - who had just offered condolences on Aemond's Father's passing, which made the Prince spur from the room. "Aemond, wait! Hang on! Sweetheart? Hey - wait! No, just hang on, wait!" You begged, grabbing your outer dress on your pursuit after your husband. He was quick in his strides and his hands had formed into fists, making you yank the sleeves of your dress on but otherwise leave it as you reached for him. "Wait!"

"For what?" He demanded sharply, rounding around on you suddenly. You reared back a step or two - needing a second to readjust as you were not often on the receiving end of his anger.

"What the hell's happening?"

"What the hell is the bloody Maester on about!?" He countered. "You heard the same as I did - what inference would you assume?"

You sighed, taking both his wrists in yours as his fists refused to lessen. You whispered, "I would assume the King has passed, just as you, husband."

"Then we need confirmation," he decided, turning to head down the hall but with one hand lessening its tight fist to let your own slip into it. "I need to know - something's wrong, the castle's dark."

"I've noticed," you sighed, keeping stride with him and giving up hope to lace your dress up properly. "Who should we ask?"

"Mother," he decided, and after demanding from a few servants where she was after not finding her in her quarters, he was told she was seen heading for Heleana's room - and away you went.

Aemond was swift and got away from you when you were distracted in trying to thank the scared servants he cornered, and he arrived in the room first. You were just steps behind him, but he was only two strides through the door - froze in place - as he stared at his mother.

Based on the look she returned, Aemond understood the Maester's words were warranted - and condolences should be shared. "Aemond," you spoke softly, taking his hand in one hand as the other wrapped around his bicep. "W-We should leave them be, c'mon, love. Come with me," you tried to coax him but your mother-by-law was interfering.

"No," Alicent nodded to you, standing slowly. "There is something you three should know... Best we do it now, together..."

You sighed and let go of your husband to spy out the open door, finding the hall empty, and then shutting it firmly in place. "What is it, Your Grace?" You asked when you returned to your husband's side, whose arm slithered around your waist to constrict.

You let him, hoping your touch still brought him comfort.

"There is... Grieving news," she informed to three of you; hands nervously fiddling with themselves. "And I regret to inform you that Viserys," she paused, as if the words choked her, "h-has passed on in his sleep this night."

Your mind whirled with confusion - because wasn't your grandsire just fine when you saw him? Blinking a few times, you quickly looked up at your husband and let your free hand press into his abdomen. "Dead?" Helaena asked for clarification while Aemond stared at the ground with concentration.

"Yes, sweetling," Alicent nodded.

Your chin lifted deftly as you sensed the next words that were sure to come. And when the Queen met your eyes, and your husbands hand tightened on your waist, you knew.

"I must ask the impossible of you, dear girl," she nodded with meaning, "and this information must not leave this room - "

"You are questioning my wife's loyalty - again - now of all times?" Aemond snapped, making the arm around your waist tighten more - as if possible.

"Aemond, you must understand," Alicent begged, sighing heavily after. "This is of the utmost importance because Viserys implored to me his final, dying wish."

"And what was that?" Aemond asked stiffly.

"That Aegon be King," she revealed, and your heart turned to stone in your chest.

"I beg your pardon?" You couldn't help but utter. "The King... Viserys... On his death bed... Said for Aegon to be King? Not my Mother? Who's been heir for the past twenty-some years?"

"I know it is a shock," Alicent allotted.

"It is more than shocking, Your Grace," you whispered but your mind was playing catch-up with your heart - making you quick to recover. "It is hard to swallow this information so suddenly. But should you swear to me that this is true, I will do what I can to understand it."

"I swear it to you, Princess," she mustered. "And I know this news is heavy and grieving but I need to know where you stand on this. Here, and now."

You let your chin incline as her eyes bore into your own. "Before the Seven, I took vows to stand by my husband. That has not changed. Though it grieves me deeply to learn of my grandsire, and that my mother is to be replaced in succession, I will stand by him. Aemond is whom with my loyalty lies - like usual."

Alicent sighed as you felt Aemond's spine go rigid with pride.

"I would expect nothing less," She admitted with a nod. "Then forgive me for imploring again, but this news truly need not leave this room. Even to your mother, sweet girl," Alicent directed at you.

"Hmm," you mimicked your husband, feeling his hand flex with warning, "I did figure as much. I understand how pressing this is, Your Grace, this news will not fall from my hand - nor lips."

"Can we be done questioning my pregnant wife, now? Have we established her loyalty yet?" Aemond snipped, stepping between his mother and wife. Traditionally, that is a dangerous place to dwell and you did your best to keep him out of it. "What's to happen now? What are we to do - wait?" He asked, changing his tone, and the direction of the conversation.

"We cannot yet find Aegon, he's not in his chambers," Alicent informed nervously, starting to pace. "We need to locate him before anyone else - it is paramount."

"Who is looking for him?" You wondered.

"As of now, Ser Criston," she nodded, making you glance at Aemond.

"We will wait with you," he decided to his mother.

"I should go find the babies," Helaena distracted herself from her inner monologue, setting her stitch work aside.

"Do you wish for me to go or stay?" You whispered to Aemond in High Valyrian - knowing Alicent did not speak the language, nor understand it despite the years as 'being' a Targaryen.

"Always stay with me," he whispered back as his sister hurried out the door. Aemond sighed when he watched his mother pace, leading you towards the hearth. "Sit, love," he nodded towards one of the chairs. "Get off your feet a moment."

"No, 's all right," you assured, gently pressing his chest so he sat in the chair just behind him. You smiled at him as you finally had time to do-up your dress at last, one of his hands lingering by your thigh to reach out and graze against you at will.

Should you need him, he was there to assist you; maybe to provide a pressing finger to allow for a perfect bow from your laces, maybe just to nod in approval when you turned in presentation. He did so with a smirk of mild amusement.

As the morning slugged forward, you and Aemond waited with the Queen for Ser Cole to return. He waited in the chair, staring into the fire with contemplation as his fingers teased your own; mindlessly fiddling as you chose to remain standing.

When the door opened, Cole entered silently and made the Queen turn in question from her pacing. You watched silently as Aemond continued to stare forward, mutely pressing a lingering kiss to the back of your hand that he held. "Prince Aegon's not to be found within the castle walls, Your Grace," Cole informed as he shut the door. Stepping forward, he continued, "Your father has sent Ser Erryk into the city to find him."

Aemond listened to the words, his fingers stalling between yours.

"Ser Erryk knows Aegon. He has the advantage," The Queen muttered in despair.

Your eyes narrowed when Cole's head turned to look directly at your husband, who's head tilted in the slightest to clock the Knight's motion and then turn back to the flames. Your free hand rose to slide into the hair at the base of Aemond's neck.

Neither of you spoke with words as your glare hardened into your husband's the moment his eyes rose to meet yours, truly not wanting him to go looking for his brother on some wild goose chase. Maybe you just did not want to be left behind, but his gaze did not linger and soon, returned to the flames for stoic consideration.

Alicent approached Cole with a rush to her step, lowering her voice, and telling him, "I trust again to you, Ser Criston, and to your loyalty. Aegon must be found, and he must be brought to me. The very fate of the Seven Kingdoms depends on it." You wanted to throw your shoe at her head - knowing she was consciously usurping the Throne from your mother but for your life's sake, you would play along. Plus, as all kids, your husband was his mother's pawn, caught in this brewing war that was not truly his own. You could not abandon him; and could never convince him to leave his family or the cause, so, for now, you listened and made your mental notes. Alicent whispered, "Everything you feel for me as your Queen..."

"I will not fail you," Cole assured with determined adoration.

"I'll come with you," your husband decided from his seat still; making your eyes widen, fingers to tighten in his, and for your head to snap down to look at him.

"That would not be my desire, Aemond," Alicent told him, turning for her son.

"Nor my own," you told your husband pointedly, watching him swiftly stand from the ornate chair. You sighed and let him turn for his mother, glaring into the fire with hands on your hips.

"If anything has happened - "

"Cole needs me, Mother," Aemond cut her off, arms laying over one another to grasp the other's elbows. "Ser Erryk isn't the only one who knows Aegon's doings." You wanted to scoff with indignation, but Aemond smirked wider, "Besides, my wife grows restless and will accompany us. She knows this city best."

Alicent turned her head to look from you over to Cole, who nodded with acceptance - understanding she was silently asking him to watch over you both, because while you didn't always like it, Alicent treated you as a part of the family after needing time and reason to warm up to you. Aemond's eye did not stray from his mother as she weighed in her mind the options; second son waiting for approval and leave.

When his mother nodded mutely, he returned the motion before sighing and letting go of her with one final look. His eye darted up to meet your own while offering his hand, "C'mon, love. With me."

You didn't get to say anything to Alicent as the moment Aemond's hand was in yours, he was pulling you to stalk out of the room so you could prepare yourselves for a search around the city for the 'heir' to the Iron Throne. Now that Viserys was gone, it was optimal time for Aegon's ascension as the realm cannot be without a ruler.

"What was that?" You asked in High Valyrian under your breath as Cole followed you both at a distance.

"That was me getting you out from under the castle's spies eyes. You're safest with me, my love," he answered in the Common Tongue.

"Say 'castle's spies eyes' five times fast and I'll suck your cock right here, right now," You teased, eyes rolling with humor when his gait faltered slightly - making Cole offer only a mild look of confusion. "I'm only jesting, my Gods, Aemond!"

"Hmm," he perked a single brow, leading the way into your room; slamming the door. You both changed quickly as Cole made himself presentable for the adventure - leaving your husband to sigh into the privacy of your shared quarters, "We'll need your help, love."

"We both know the back allies," you shrugged meekly, lacing on a simple dress that wouldn't accentuate your figure - allowing you to blend in with the crowds and people of the capital. With a hooded cloak and laced boots, you were ready; briefly reminded of your youth when you liked to sneak out and mingle amongst the people. "We'll make do with us two."

"But you know them best."

You nodded, "This might be true... But there's one problem, love."

"What?"

"The White Worm."

He sighed through his nose but did not otherwise respond.

Cole had chuckled earnestly when Aemond all but instantly bought you something to eat; keeping an arm around you as you picked at the sweetly baked bread to pop pieces in your mouth. Your husband knew you well, and he knew how to keep you both close and occupied - avoiding any idea of you wondering off.

Look, sometimes you got distracted, okay? Not your fault that you - sometimes - went off trail. It wasn't a crime!

And with your pregnancy nose and belly, you had been caught once or twice sneaking into the kitchens because you smelled the freshly baked goodies. So, Aemond, The Good Husband, bought from a vendor, and handed it over to you before taking the lead - ensuring he could keep you within his hold.

"Where to first?" Cole wondered, readjusting his stitched cap as he grew restless of not knowing their destination. The Knight did not often patrol the city after his promotion to King's Guard - then to Queen's Guard - but whatever.

Some disguise is was.

Yet it wasn't much better than your husband - who was always recognizable due to your little brother maiming him almost a full decade ago. He only wore a muted color hooded cloak over his white locks; something unwittingly similar to you.

Couples that match together, stay together. It's proven.

Through a mouth of sweet bread, you offered, "Pabably the Stweet of Swilk."

"Oh, my Gods," Aemond whispered, tightening his arm as you snickered gently. To Cole, he directed, "Aegon brought me to the Street of Silk," he enunciated, making you silently mock him, "on my thirteenth nameday. It was his duty as my brother, he said, to ensure I was as educated as he was."

Your eyes rolled at Cole when you three came to a halt at an intricately carved door, and your husband took hold of the large, iron knocker. He paused to spare Cole a look, finishing his thought, "At least... That's what I understood him to mean."

He used the knocker to rap three times as you took another distracting bite, stood perfectly between the men, and looking between them with mild interest.

"I don't follow," Cole responded.

"He said, 'Time to get it wet'," Aemond leaned in to tell Cole, chuckling dryly when your hand swung to jab into his shoulder.

You swallowed your bite just to reprimand, "That's disgusting."

"Every woman is an image of the Mother, to be spoken of with reverence," Ser Criston Cole replied as if it were a rehearsed response, looking around you three with caution before reaching for the iron knocker and rapping three more times.

Impatient, are we?

You glared at Aemond and pointed at Cole, "That's a man's response."

"Oh, do I offer you insult, wife?" He teased, making your eyes roll with humor.

When the doors opened, you looked the woman up and down as she asked, "What can I do you lot for? You lost or something?"

"Or something," you replied first with a smirk.

Criston Cole took the lead, "Sometime last night, we... Misplaced our drinking companion. Knowing that he has been, in the past, a patron of your fine establishment, we thought to inquire here as to his whereabouts."

But the woman eyed you all with mistrust before demanding of Cole, "And describe him."

"That is a delicate matter," Cole informed quietly. With a glance to your husband, Cole leaned in to mutter in the Mistress' ear, "You see, the man we seek is the young Prince Aegon. And I may trust, I hope, in the discretion of your trade."

You took another bite of sweet, baked bread as the Woman of the House scoffed softly through her nose, informing you three, "The Prince is not here."

After you swallowed, you asked, "Has he been here, Lady? Earlier, perhaps?"

"Quite a bit earlier," she told you. "Years ago, in fact."

"Hmm," you shrugged a bit, sharing a look with your husband.

"But more recently?" Cole demanded, understanding the games being played. It was known the Prince Aegon had insatiable desires; and King's Landing was flush with little white-haired bastards.

"He does not frequent the Street of Silk," the Mistress informed stiffly. "His tastes are known to be... Less discriminating."

"Meaning what?" Cole asked what you all wondered.

Instead of answering, the Mistress smirked and tisked her teeth lightly. "I wish you luck, good Ser. And my best to your friend," she pointed to Aemond before she even turned her head.

You watched his head bow under her heated gaze, understanding if there was one weak spot of your husband's, it was anything pertaining to his appearance. He was vastly insecure since the loss of his eye, and any sort of unsavory attention on him made his stomach quiver gently.

You cocked your head, taking another slow bite as Cole turned and stalked away, and the Mistress eyed your husband, purring, "How you've grown."

With perked brows, you paused to blink away the shock and then bite your bread to hold between your teeth; freeing your hands to literally shove the Lady of the House back behind the threshold and then yank the wooden door shut with a clang while yelling some obscenity that was only vaguely understood.

"Hmm," your husband hummed when you snatched his hand, turning to lead you both after Cole. "Jealousy's not a good look to wear, my sweet wife."

You grumbled and ripped the bread from your mouth to chew as his arm came around to secure your shoulders. "And now?" Cole asked.

"We follow her," Aemond nodded, letting you take the lead.

Cole nodded, following beside your husband. "It seems you were mistaken as to Aegon's habits."

Your eyes rolled, "Or perhaps the citizens of King's Landing are loyal to their own - especially those who pay their dues."

"He could be in the hands of mercenaries," Aemond listed, "on a ship to Yi Ti. He could be dead."

You eyed the people you passed by, listening to the two men just behind you. Cole responded, "Let us hope, for your Mother's sake, that is not the case."

You peered down alleyways in search for the slumped-over Prince.

But Aemond grew irritated the further into the city you passed, snipping, "Here I am, trawling the city, ever the good soldier in search of a wastrel who's never taken half an interest in his birthright."

Both you and Cole had to pause in step to turn back when Aemond came to a halt in the middle of the walkway, almost seeing the steam rising from him as his anger stewed. "'Tis I the younger brother, who studies history and philosophy, 'tis I who trains with the sword, who's married to a proper Lady, who rides the largest dragon in the world. 'Tis I who should be - "

"Hush yourself, now, you speak dangerously, my love," you insisted, stepping closer to him. "Aemond," you sighed with reverence, knowing his pain and irritation. Though you had no desire to be queen, you knew your husband often let his mind blur with anger over how often he's overlooked. "This is not always to be our struggle. Hey? This will not always be reality, but for now, it is your brother's and we have responsibilities to uphold."

Cole nodded, stepping up behind you as you smoothly folded into Aemond's side - the Knight assuring, "I know what it is to toil for what others are freely given."

"Hmm," your husband considered, lip curling; head turning to direct his attention to the side. "And we can't find him, Cole. You are a decent man with no taste for depravity." This made Criston look around the alley for spying ears; something you often worried over. "His secrets are his own... And he's welcome to them." Though, you did not anticipate the next moves; stepping back when Aemond neared his mouth towards Cole's ear, muttering, "I'm next in line for the Throne. Should they come looking for me, I intend to be found."

You sighed through your nose and forced yourself to walk away, still looking for your brother-by-law. Your anger bubbled as you had to play the loyal fool; but the truth was, any talk of stealing your mother's Throne made you uneasy. Yet with your husband, you could not hide away any emotion for he always saw through you, and moments later, his hand slid into your own.

You tightened your grip to assure him you were still with him. He could feel the tension, and something in his gut prickled to fix it.

"A moment, Ser Cole," Aemond nodded to the Knight; making you pause before you could exit the alley.

Cole looked you both over before agreeing with a nod, moving several feet away; and for Aemond to turn so he hovered over you. "You're tense," he noted.

"You speak dangerously," you muttered.

"I speak truth."

"You speak of usurping the Throne," you snipped, "something I'd rather you leave to your brother. You're not wrong, my husband, and you are the better fit from Aegon, but that does not make any of this right. My mother is the rightful heir, and you know it - deep down, I know you do."

"Yet neither of us dare speak it now," he muttered.

"So instead you speak of taking the Throne for yourself?" You demanded harshly. "Gods be good, Aemond. I did not think you daft! Aegon is next in line, and whether he wants it or not, your family intends to instate him over my mother. You and I are both bound by law, obedience, loyalty, and duty to stand at their side - less we risk death. Less we risk execution. Please, do not let us talk of this longer than we must - it will not be the resolve we want."

He sighed and his eye dropped to soak you in. "You'd make the most perfect fucking Queen."

"And you a just King, but that is not the reality we live in right now. If we want to see tomorrow, you and I are to play a part."

He nodded, licking over his lips, "My words are safe with you?"

"As mine are with you - but speak no more to Ser Cole. Please. For my sake at the very least. I cannot say what he would keep secret, and I do not wish to risk us further than we are."

He nodded, sighing, "He's chalked it up to sibling rivalry I'm sure."

"With reason," you nodded. "Just tread lightly, my love."

Aemond nodded again, kissing your forehead. "Thank you, pet."

"I'm always here for you," you promised softly, lacing your hand with his. "But for now, let us try to locate your fucking brother."

He let you turn the pair of you to continue onward. Cole joined you both, and as a trio, scoured the streets for the white-haired Prince. Through alleys, around turns, over courtyards - you all traveled, in the hopes of locating the Prince before the Hand's party finds him.

However, some hours into your search, you came to a halt with a suspicious Aemond behind Ser Cole - who was staring off into the crowd of one of the local taverns. "My Prince, my Princess," he spoke softly, earning both your attentions. He nodded pointedly, and as you rocked onto your toes for a vantage point, both you and Aemond made out the bodies of Ser Erryk, twin brother, Arryk, and the Hand of the King - Otto Hightower - talking to the White Worm.

"Oh, that's interesting," You smirked to the lads, making them both look to you.

"What is?" Cole asked.

You decided to keep the information on the mysterious woman to yourself for now, replying, "It looks like a meeting of sort. They're buying information, and we know who the Hand seeks..."

"They're buying Aegon's location," Aemond nodded.

"We'll follow them," you smirked, landing back on your flat feet. When one of the twins offered the woman in royal silks a sack full of money, your smirk widened, "See? Work smarter, lads, never harder. C'mon, this way," you crept around the tavern, keeping them close to the walls as you yourself blended in much better. You risked getting closer, busying yourself amongst the people, and just as you thought the White Worm spotted you, she was revealing the Prince's location.

The Knighted Twins were sent to collect the Prince, and you hurried back to Cole and Aemond - snagging both of their wrists as you sped past them. "Hang on!" Aemond snipped, hustling to follow you. "What's going on?"

"The Prince is being held in the Sept, and if we're smart," you quipped back over your shoulder, letting them go to follow on their own, "they will retrieve the Prince and we'll steal him away. Come now."

Aemond smirked at Cole as you lead them down new passage ways - leading with confidence because now that you had a definitive destination in mind, you could easily navigate the complex city to cut down on time.

"How is it you know the city so well?" Cole wondered.

You mused, "You know how I was as a child."

He snorted, "Unruly."

"I prefer rebellious, Ser," you corrected with a sharp glance. "I believed in knowing the people you're to govern, so, I would wonder the streets on sleepless nights."

"She cannot be stopped," Aemond shrugged after. "Best to just follow her now."

Cole nodded and around bends you went. Eventually, you arrived at the Sept, and peered around. "Stay here," you spoke to the two. "I'll see if they're in."

"And if they are?" Cole asked.

"Then I'll signal to you and just blend in," your eyes rolled. "This is not my fight, this is where you two come in. So, make yourselves scarce from sight. We'll have the element of surprise."

"Pending you're not seen," Cole snipped.

"Do not underestimate my wife, Cole," Aemond stepped in, hand moving to your waist to stand chest-to-chest with you. Cole actually backed off a step when he noted the matching glares.

"My Prince," he grumbled, nodding with agreement before turning away.

Aemond sighed through his nose as he peered over your head for a moment, surveying up the stairs to the Sept. "Be quick and unseen," he whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead. "And be careful," his hand moved to hold the small bulge of your lower belly.

"Mhm," you agreed against his lips, pressing another quick kiss. Turning, you hustled up the stairs and only felt mildly winded when you reached the landing. With a skeptical, heavy glance around, you noted the positions of everyone before moving for the doors of the holy building. You were only there a moment before catching sight of the Knighted Twins wrangling Aegon in - rushing back for the stone banister to give a low twiddling whistle.

Aemond recognized it and nodded to Cole.

You remained at the bannister, busying yourself and not looking back when you heard the grunting of Aegon and Arryk. You only stepped back, the three not even glancing your way, and offering you a front row seat to the impending battle. Only, you weren't alone as Cole stepped out from his place and your husband rose silently from his hidden crouch; Cole's sword extended as he spoke, "I do regret this, friend."

You laughed quietly when the tension filled stalemate turned tides when Aegon shoved an elbow to Arryk's stomach - making him release the Prince. From there, it was Cole against Arryk and Aemond against Aegon - both parties eventually making it down the stone stairs.

"Princess," A voice muttered, making you look up.

"Ser Erryk," you nodded. "You're not eager to join in?"

"No," he watched with you from the top of the stairs. "I do have conflicting feelings regarding matters."

"Over?"

"The progression of things," he muttered.

"You would support my Mother, would you?"

"I believe I would, after what I've come to witness," he admitted softly. "And yourself? You're Green now?"

"I bleed Black, my good Ser, do not mistake that," you hushed. "But if I am to survive with my husband, I have a part to play... Though... Something tells me you are sooner to see her."

"If I am... Would you have a message?"

Your chin inclined discreetly, "That my blood runs hot and Black. Tell her I remember our House words, and I would never abandon her. She will understand."

"I will, Princess."

"And that I love her. Remind her, Ser Erryk, if you see her before I do," you rushed now, feeling emotion swell in your chest.

"Princess," he agreed. "In the mean time, should you need my service - "

"There is something else," you nodded to him, the men still distracted enough to allow you brief privacy.

"ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME!?" Arryk demanded of his brother, your form hidden by the towering stone stairs Arryk stood under.

"Name it," Erryk muttered, keeping an eye on the battle.

"The Princess Rhaenys is locked in her room," you muttered. "She is not to be harmed, I'd see her out of the city. If you get the Queen Who Never Was out of the city, Ser, I will be forever indebted."

"It would bring me honor to do the right thing," he admitted. "I will do what I can, Princess."

"Thank you, Ser," you whispered.

"LET ME GO! BROTHER!"

"Go," you ushered, breaking apart from the Knight as Aegon yelled and thrashed in Aemond's arms.

"LET ME GO!" Aegon sobbed. "I HAVE NO WISH TO RULE!"

Cole had disarmed Arryk and taken his sword, you sweeping past the pair to approach the quarreling, platinum-blonde brothers.

"No taste for duty!" Aegon continued. "I'm not suited!"

Your husband voiced your same thoughts, "You'll get no argument from me."

You might've actually felt bad for the Prince as Aemond turned Aegon to face him, and Cole took your flank. The Prince Aegon begged his brother, "Let me go," he grabbed both of Aemond's cheeks, "I will find a ship and sail away, never to be found."

Knowing he was next in line, Aemond actually faltered as he considered the idea - but his eye cut over, and caught the shake of your head. He looked silently back to a hopeful-Aegon, and found no answer. Cole stepped away from you to wrap his arm around the future King's shoulder, informing, "The Queen awaits."

Seeing the physical anger as Aegon's hands shook while squeezing your husband's cheeks, you stepped up, "Aegon, do not. Fate has a way of finding us all, it is not so easy to sail away from. Let go - now."

He did not look away from his brother, but he did let go; only to push Cole's arms off him and stalk away - your feet stepping back to give him a wide berth of range. When away, you swiftly stepped up into Aemond's chest, and like his brother, took his cheeks in hand to force his eye to yours.

Before you could say anything, he only leaned down to press a suffocating kiss to your lips as his hand rose to hold your cheek and jaw. He paused to breath against you, foreheads resting together to let you breathe one another in. "Hey, hey," you hushed against his lips, petting his cheek with near desperation, "stay with me now. Do not get lost in your head, stay with me."

He nodded, pressing another reassuring kiss to your lips before whispering, "I'm with you, my love."

"Good," You sighed, taking his hand with yours, "because we need our wits about us in the coming days."

Aemond silently agreed, letting you pet a few stray, fly-away hairs back into place before he turned you to follow him - leading you both off in pursuit of his brother and Mother's guard.

You watched him for a time, just content to study his profile as you poured you both goblets of wine. He had been silent since returning from the streets of King's Landing; since finding his brother, ready to stow away and run away from your Mother's birthright.

"Here, love," You whispered, having watched his left hand flex in contemplation. He mutely looked up and accepted the wine, eye drifting back to the flames. You gently prodded him until both feet were flat to allow you room to slide onto his lap; sighing as you settled, asking gently, "Where are you, right now?"

His frowned deepened, eye raking over your face as he considered his answer. "In truth, the past..."

"All right," You sighed, leaning into his chest as one arm stretched to lay across his shoulders as the other brought the goblet to your lips. "Take me there with you, where in the past are you?"

He sighed, "All over, sweet girl. There is much on my mind."

"Over Aegon's words?"

"And actions..."

You nodded softly, curling a strand of hair behind his ear. "What do they make you think?"

"That I should've strangled him years ago," He sighed, taking a gulp of wine. With his lips brushing the rim of the goblet, he muttered, "Much would be different now. Perhaps I think of what could have been, should I of chose different."

You paused to let his words and emotions simmer, nodding slowly, asking, "Do you think much would be different with us?"

He snorted through his nose, "Not in the least bit."

"Oh?" You purred with a smirk, letting your lips pucker on his temple.

"Your brother had claimed my eye," he nodded with a small smirk, "at least, by the time I genuinely considered smothering the drunken fool, we were already engaged."

"Hmm," you mulled over, letting the arm around his shoulders flex gently to bring your hand to his cheek.

He swallowed another gulp of sweet wine. "Perhaps, if I'd been more of a man then, we'd not be here now."

"Funny you think you weren't man enough, even after what Luke did. I don't know grown men today who could handle what you endured. Funny you think you were man enough, yet at only age ten, you became dragonrider to Vhagar - largest in the world. You've always been man enough, Aemond, but you're not ruthless. No matter how you might think, you're not like your brother."

He smirked gently, "I ever tell you how perfect you are for me?"

"Hmm... Not today," You smirked, hearing him chuckle briefly. It was better than his suffocating silence.

But the silence fell again as he became lost to his thoughts. "Would you still love me?" He asked softly. "If I were King?"

"I do not think there are many scenarios for us to endure that I might love you less," you assured, knowing he needed the reassurance in this moment. "What you and I have, Aemond, is not conditional. I do not love you with terms, be assured that in any lifetime, I'd have you - and love you, still." You sighed against his temple, whispering, "Look at me, please."

His head tilted to gently drag the tip of your nose across his skin; letting you lean back to take him in, in full.

"You were raised with only a Mother's love," you whispered, "and were conditioned to believe you were not worthy of it. But you are, my sweet husband. You're worthy of love, and I've plenty to give."

He sighed, breath fanning against your lips, "What an honor to receive it."

Your smile was warm and never faltered - even when you leaned in for a kiss. In that moment, in your bubble, Aemond felt safe; and in a desperate moment, his forehead met yours as two tears fell in rapid succession. You let him grieve whatever was, what could have been; the privacy of your rooms and warmth of your embrace provided him a safe place to emote - and though he was in no way a master of it, he was getting better.

Your empty goblets made it to a table's top to rest, your arms tight as his head rested in the crook of your neck and shoulder; hand splayed across your lower belly to let his thumb sweep in comfort.

"You're fidgeting," Aemond muttered.

"I cannot help it, this is wrong," you whisper-hissed back; shifting in your spot to once more brush out the skirts of your black gown.

He sighed, pecking your temple, and whispered, "Please, my love."

You did your best to quell your nerves, but with the whole of King's Landing being ushered like cattle into the Dragon Pit, you could not help it. You were expected to stand by your husband (as if Aemond would ever allow you to stand elsewhere), beside the soon-to-be Queen; watching your brother-by-law be crowned King.

Oh, how wrong this was - but you could not stop it.

Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, called above the gathering crowd, "People of King's Landing... Today is the saddest of days. Our beloved King... Viserys the Peaceful... Is dead."

You listened to the shocked mutterings flood from the capital’s residents - their eyes turning beady the longer they stared at you. Your chin lifted, and Aemond's hand deftly rubbed along your waist.

Above them all, you stood on a platform dressed in your House colors. You did not speak as Otto called, again, "But it is also the most joyous of days... For as his spirit left us...! He whispered his final wish: that his firstborn son, Aegon," you tightened your own hold on your husband in support, "should succeed him!"

Your breaths were held as the crowd rumbled in conversation - but a collective exhale heaved when they started to applaud in approval. Your jaw steeled, these foolish citizens not realizing in truth they were supporting a stolen Throne to a child-playing-man. Guards marched through the crowds and forced a path that lead up to the stage you were stationed on.

As the trumpets blew, Aemond muttered in your ear, "Here comes our new King."

"Ease yourself," you hushed him, offering a look of understanding before facing forward again.

"Present... ARMS!" And a choir of sword sung as they were unsheathed and held above the soldiers heads to form a pathway for Aegon to walk under.

You could only keep track of Aegon through the crowd because after he passed each soldier, their swords swung in punctuation after him. You shuffled a half step closer to Aemond; an arm around his back to hold your anchor as your other hand laid against his stomach for balance. His arm tightened almost subconsciously around you, ensuring your proximity, but did not otherwise move.

"It is your good great fortune," Otto called again, "and privilege... To be here to witness this: a new day for our city... A new day for our realm. A new King... To lead us!" Aegon reached the end of the procession, each sword down - before swinging back up in salute.

Dare you say it, but Aegon looked positively seething to climb the stage stairs to meet the royal procession. Swords were sheathed as Aegon reached the top of the stairs to stand before his Mother and grandsire; the latter stepping back.

As Queen Regent, Alicent stepped forward to kiss her eldest son's forehead - a public sign of love, respect, and support - before she guided him to step up in his place. Your mother-by-law turned, then, to step back aside.

The guards all moved in sync - moved into position as their new task to guard the King. Otto stepped towards Aegon and gave one, single, meaningful nod; stepping back in time for Aegon to sink to his knees.

You watched the coronation with something akin to burning anger dissolving your gut - unsure what to make of the situation you bore witness to. Yet, like your husband, you've mastered the stoic position and look - and did not let your façade fade the longer you stood there. Aegon was the first born son... And even you, a student of history, could not dispute his claim.

Aegon the Elder was anointed in oils, words of blessing spoken over him and his reign. You silently prayed that it was not for long. Your husband had stood with his blind eye to his brother, not wanting to break his pride to turn and look; but his sister did. You, like your husband, just stared forward with obedience as you truly did not want to watch the Septon give his blessing.

However, as if connected by a string, both you and your husband's heads turned to watch the Septon step back and for Ser Criston to take up the crown and turn to the knelt boy. To the crowd, he explained, "The Crown of the Conqueror, passed down through generations."

Cole brought the crown to Aegon's head, and your hands tightened on your husband's torso when you clocked his unwavering glare. The siblings seemingly switched places, and now it was Helaena who could not bare to watch any longer as Aemond's eye never once lifted from his brother.

It was hard to read what he felt, but by the tight squeeze of his hand, you knew it was not positive.

"Let the Seven bear witness: Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the Iron Throne," Cole announced, and you swore you felt the burning glares of a few court and crowd members fall over you - your obvious lineage now posing problem.

Aemond's head bowed to look down at you, your eyes locking for a long moment as the Septon helped Aegon to his feet while the crowd stewed on what they just witnessed. The holy man bowed first and as Aegon's eyes moved, everyone bowed with respect. Your hand had to discreetly nudge Helaena's elbow, but she, too, gave a short curtesy.

Aegon's eyes cut into yours, and for a moment, you considered showing defiance in support of your mother, but knew better than to tempt fate. It was bad enough you wore black on such a day instead of a supportive green, but you liked to dress to match your husband. So, with stiff knees, you let yourself only just barely curtesy to the new (false) King. Aemond gave a single, swift nod of his head - and his brother did not dare ask for more.

Otto gave the final bow, and the High Speton offered his arm in presentation as he announced to the thick crowd, "All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men," Aegon only then started to slowly turn to face 'his' people for the first time, "Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!"

It was deathly quiet.

"Aegon the King!" Criston Cole called, rallying the crowd into an uproar of cheering, applause, and approval.

"Fucking sheep," you muttered in judgement, words drowned out as Aegon boasted in the glory of being King.

Aemond sighed against your forehead before kissing the top of your head - something only Otto seemed to notice. But the attention was drawn by Aegon pompously brandishing his sword, encouraging the crowds again. You noticed the way Helaena twitched and worried as you knew of the girl's visions, reaching for her as she turned towards you and Aemond - your husband between you still.

With an arm around your stoic husband, your other reached for the girl's forearm, "Are you all right, Heleana?" You hushed.

But her eyes only closed with concentration. You released her from your hold, the crowds chanting their support; and your worried gaze met your husband's. Just then, as your mouth opened to voice concern, the middle of the Pit's floor exploded in a hurricane of rocky debris. Your husband swiftly yanked you across his body to push you closer to his sister and turning to attempt to shield you both, but hunched slightly over you as the dust mushroomed around you.

Both his arms were tight around your torso, but none of you could look away - making out the sight of the Red Queen, Meleys, sweeping her mighty tail around citizens, taking out whoever she could in an effort to satisfy her bloodthirsty rider.

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen - freed by Ser Erryk by your command.

"Aemond," you shuddered as the ground trembled.

"I've got you, I've got you," he assured swiftly and you felt Heleana cowering lightly into your back. Aemond's eye swept over you in concern, pulling you flush against him as his body was used to shield you still; one of his hands dropping to lay protectively over your belly.

Chaos rained around you; screams of people drowned by the threatening growls of the mighty dragon. Then, she gave a shrieking bellow that only echoed in sound around you; and your hands tightened on your husband. Ser Crsiton had the Queen Regent covered as Aemond seemingly had you and Helaena; but you knew little could be done for your stepmother and company should Rhaenys utter that famous word.

That very word that would drown you all in dragon fire.

But this was a war to be fought with Fire and Blood, you were prepared for the carnage to follow. Yet your only instinct now was to not just cling to Aemond in an effort to keep him close, but cover the innocent, sweet new (false) Queen Heleana. As the great dragon started to move, people were trying to climb their way out of the Pit - but little could be done for them now.

"Th-They're closing the doors," you called down the way when you noticed it. "The people will suffer - they're closing the doors!"

Otto heard your words over the screams of terror and tried to roar over them all, "OPEN THE DOORS!" But the doors were still closing on people trying to flee - and the Hightowers knew that Rhaenys would escape one way or another. "OPEN THE DOORS!"

Rhaenys turned from behind her to note the narrowing escape to glare at the Royals beneath her - her eyes skating over you to land on Alicent. The Queen Regent then boldly pushed from Ser Criston, giving the command, "Get Helaena," as she moved for her crowned son. Standing before Aegon the Second, Green faced the Red Queen.

Aemond turned to push you and his sister behind his body in full; standing to face the towering, growling dragon that neared the platform to leer in all your faces. You held a hand to his waist to assure him of your position whilst his hands were held in use of defense - should need be.

Though, you wondered what he could truly do against Meleys.

No words were exchanged; Alicent only bent her head in submission, but the great red-scaled dragon only gave another bellow - but no flames. Your husband's head bowed to endure the stream of hot air blown across you all, one hand holding your sister-by-law's, and the other keeping tight hold of Aemond as his body protected yours.

Yet, in the end, you all opened your eyes to spy Rhaenys spare Alicent one last scorching glare before turning her dragonmount and rushing for the still-opened doors.

There was a collective shudder across the lot of you, and Aemond turned at once to take your face in his hands. He nodded once, brows crinkling in concern; making you lay a hand over his, assuring, "I'm okay. I'm all right."

"The babe?" He asked in a hush, Alicent checking over Aegon to then rush for her daughter.

"We're both all right," you promised, hand almost slapping over his own that laid to your womb. His gaze turned back towards the doors, ushering you to his chest; both of your gazes watching the fleeing dragon that bore a vengeful, hotheaded rider... A rider who would bare your messages to your mother and inform her of the truth.

A rider who you would meet again in open battle.

[ series masterlist ]

[bindeds]

explaining my musical-only lucifer magne/morningstar playlist bc i would be confused too if i just happened to chance upon this on spotify BUT I HAVE EXPLANATIONS I PROMISE

quick disclaimer before i start, this playlist is still a wip and these are just my headcanons of lucifer’s story from his pov! i just wanted to share because i wasn’t sure if anyone’s done anything like this (and i may have hyperfixated on this instead of falling asleep, whoops.)

i grew up on theatre so a lot of these songs mean a great deal to me, though some of the movie versions are here instead of the animated films (for disney only) because i simply prefer the movie versions.

i arranged the playlist according to the (rough) order of events, meaning i’ll be going section by section which represents each stage of his story. i won’t be going through every single song but majority of the time, the titles explain themselves but i will be talking about the songs that stand out to me.

of course, we have his heaven era, which has two subparts—his admiration for heaven but his hopes and dreams for a brighter future for the world they’ll make.

speaking of subparts, lmk if you want a part 2 of this as i’ll only be covering the ‘first arc’ of this backstory in this post and i have songs all the way up until the hotel becomes successful (which hasn’t happened yet, i know. but sometimes i am hopeful.)

i feel like honor to us all not only represents how lucifer had to conform to the other angels’ way of thinking but also just how rigid the rules and system of heaven is. the entire song, mulan gets told that she must be this or that and a lot of it are almost impossible standards, and i imagine lucifer, especially being the dreamer that he is, found it even just a little suffocating in the beginning and of course it grew worse as time went on.

“men (god) want girls (angels) in good taste; calm, obedient who work fast paced”

i imagine the angel’s got to properly see the wonderful things lucifer was capable of before he started talking about them and i think the greatest show represents that well.

a million dreams is obviously a song that can describe lucifer’s many creative ideas and goals for the new world they’re going to make soon.

— mother knows best is where his pure admiration becomes unstable doubt as it’s god/the angels shutting lucifer down on his ideas (and possibly gaslighting him into making him feel ashamed for having ideas.)

proud of your boy is lucifer listening to god at first, seeing as being an angel is all he’s ever known, of course his first instinct was to obey god and listen to the other angels.

waving through a window describes lucifer’s struggle with being shut down and being forced to essentially hide who he is, and since he was no longer allowed to take part in the making of man, he was on the ‘outside looking in.’ lucifer also gave the angels reasons to stare at him and cast him out when he shared his ideas so the first line fits perfectly.

“give them no reason to stare; no slipping up if you slip away, so i’ve got nothing to share. no i’ve got nothing to say.”

“we start with stars in our eyes; we start believing that we belong; but every song doesn’t rise, and no one tells you where you went wrong.”

“when you’re falling in a forest, and there’s nobody around, do you ever really crash or even make a sound? did i even make a sound, did i even make a sound, it’s like i never made a sound—will i ever make a sound?”

— DEFINITELY represents how he was casted down into heaven later on, and he wonders if he ever even mattered to the angels, if he made even just one valuable contribution in their eyes, so maybe they can reconsider and see that he could be forgiven.

waiting on a miracle definitely refers to him being a part of the angels and yet they don’t quite treat him with the same respect just because of his ideas, and him ultimately hoping that he can go back to being or feeling loved by god wholly.

“don’t be upset, or mad at all; don’t feel regret, or sad at all. hey i’m still apart of the family madrigal (angels) …”

“and i’m fine, i am totally fine; i will stand on the side as you shine … i’m not fine, i’m not fine.” — ‘shine’ could refer to the archangels making the new world without him.

“i can’t move the mountains; i can’t make the flowers bloom, i can’t stay another night up in my room”

— of course this isn’t about lucifer being unable to do things, but i think it could mean that unlike the other angels, he’s just not comfortable bending completely to god’s command if he has genuinely good ideas to offer. but of course, no one listens to him.

i’d like to think almost there is both about lucifer almost getting the whole ‘conforming to the angel’s rigid rules’ thing right, AND refining his ideas so that maybe heaven doesn’t find them so outlandish and they won’t cast him out again, even if the chances are highly unlikely. judging from just how reluctantly he was to let charlie go to heaven that time, it seemed that lucifer really was as hopeful or even more hopeful than charlie was that heaven would listen to anyone with good intentions, especially their own angels.

when will my life begin and naughty come hand in hand with the former being lucifer trying to convince himself that things are good as it is even if it doesn’t feel like it, and the latter being about two things; 1, to stop sulking about his current situation—2, actually doing something about it, thus the decision he made to visit the garden of eden (because i assume he wasn’t allowed to enter for obvious reasons) where he met lilith and began to spend time with her.

touch the sky is about lucifer getting to explore and spread his wings in eden.

something there and can you feel the love tonight is just two love songs i really like for lilith and lucifer as lilith representing belle, the beauty, is just so accurate and makes so much sense as she was made by god to be ‘the perfect woman,’ even if things didn’t turn out that way. and of course, beast represents lucifer very well because later on lucifer ends up being the devil, the worst ‘beast’ of them all.

defying gravity is lucifer’s first proper realization that heaven’s prejudice against him doesn’t matter and that he should still try to pursue his wonders despite it all. i would also like to think that lilith helped me realize this; that if lilith can make him feel this amazing and this loved being on her own, then imagine the things others can do when they too, like lilith, take matters in their own hands. thus, i headcanon that the idea of free will might have been inspired by lilith caring for lucifer. (i am a hopeless romantic like that.)

“i’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s (god’s) game.”

“as someone (god) told me lately, everyone deserves a chance to fly.”

“and if i’m flying solo, at least i’m flying free”

— if lucifer is the only one who will support himself, at least he is no longer bound the rules that suppress him and who he is as a person/divine being.

“to those who ground me, take a message back from me; tell them how i am defying gravity.”

“and soon i’ll match them in renown.”

— and soon, lucifer will be just as good or even better than the angels who helped make the earth.

the other side is SO definitely about lucifer convincing (or maybe even seducing) eve into biting the apple of free will.

“you run with me, and i can cut you free, out of the drudgery and walls you keep in.”

— drudgery and walls very much referring to having to submit to adam and not knowing the taste of free will. same with ‘same old part you gotta play’ that plays during the chorus

“and if it’s crazy, live a little crazy; you can play it sensible, a king of conventional—or you can risk it all and see.”

— i don’t know. this quote struck me as so, authentically lucifer, the subtle playfulness in both the lyric choice and the tune towards the end.

“is this really how you’d like to spend your days, whiskey and misery, and parties and plays?”

— i can see lucifer saying this to eve 100% because it’s completely reasonable to be skeptical of a man you just met, so this could be him trying to further convince eve.

“if i were mixed up with you, i’d be the talk of the town (angels), disgraced and disowned”

— eve fighting back. though similar to how this song ends, eve gives in eventually … but i do headcanon that lucifer offered eve’s first act of free will to be either to reject or accept to have sex with him, just because i really like the idea of lucifer getting back at those who made the first humans without him by seducing both of adam’s wives.

h

story of tonight is lucifer knowing that his consequences have actions, and even if his plan works, heaven wouldn’t be happy about him disobeying their orders. but at this point, lilith had been the only person to fullyaccept him for who he is, and he realizes it’s not worth conforming to the rules of people who force you to be someone you’re not.

“raise a glass to freedom; something they can never take away, no matter what they tell you.”

— definitely lucifer raising a glass to lilith and eve, because they’re most likely more free from heaven’s clutches compared to him, and both of them have discovered free will at this point already.

if you’re still here, my god, thank you so much!! please let me know if you’d like to see me explain the rest of my playlist, and here’s the link again if you’d like to check it out on spotify :)

[gemini-magic17]

Entanglement Chapter Three

"HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME!!!"

"Kit you act like it is the end of the world. You knew this day would come why are you acting so surprised", my mother said.

"I am surprised because, for the first time in my life, you decided to bring this up. You didn't even tell me you were planning on doing this!"

"I am your mother Kit as well as queen I do not need your permission. Your marriage to Y/n will be beneficial to Tir Asleen and to you", she said.

"How do you expect this soon-to-be sham of a union to be beneficial to me?!?"

"Instead of you having to move to her Kingdom after the wedding you both will be residing here."

"Oh so you are saying I get to stay here but be married to a girl I don't even know who will be looking for me as a sense of comfort", I exclaimed.

"Don't be so dramatic! Now listen Y/n and her family are coming for my birthday celebration where you will have an ample amount of time to get to know each other before the wedding in three months."

"THREE MONTHS?!?!"

"YES, Kit three months you are to be married. So, you have plenty of time to come to terms with it", she said and walked out of my room.

As she left I could feel my blood starting to boil and all the things she said running through my mind made me lose it. I started to throw whatever was in reach of me trying to release what I was feeling inside. After my room looked like it had been trashed I stormed out of there. In my anger-filled haze, I didn't see the person in front of me and crashed into them.

"Hey, what's wrong? Why do you seem so angry", Jade asked with a deep sense of worry.

"My mother sprung the worst possible news she could have on me that could destroy my life", I said.

"What do you mean? What did she tell you."

"She just told me I am to be married in three months", I said knowing that this could hurt her.

"What? But your mother never said anything to you about marriage before", Jade said with a shakey voice.

"I know she said it has to do with it being beneficial to the kingdom and some other bullshit", I started to yell.

"Jade I need you to know though my marriage to her will not change anything between us or how I feel about you. I will always love you", holding her face in my hands and looking in her eyes letting her know this.

Jade nods and asks,"So, who is it that you are marrying"?

"Her name is Y/n Ravaryn of Zemira", I said.

"When is she to come here"?

"She is coming for my mother's birthday where she will be staying before and after we are married", I say with disdain.

"So you don't have to move to her kingdom once you are married"?

"Yes, my mother made arrangements where Y/n and I would stay here after the wedding. I guess you could say she was trying to soften the blow or trying to make me feel somewhat accepting of this union", I say sarcastically.

"At least you won't have to leave and you will be home", jade smiles.

"Yeah except for the marriage part", I laugh.

"I have to go I promised to meet up with Boorman. I will see you later on", Jade says and then proceeds to walk off.

All I could think about at that moment was how her heart must be hurting just like mine is.

** Time skip to the fourth day on the ship

Being stuck on this damn ship has given me anxiety to the point where I want to throw myself off it. If I have to spend one more day on this boat I may go mad. Looking up at the night sky and seeing all the stars scattered across it made me think of the time when I was a little girl and would go searching for the brightest star out there.

All of a sudden I hear footsteps behind me just to turn and see my father.

" You couldn't sleep either could sweetheart", he said.

"No, I could not. I have too many things on my mind."

"I assume this is regarding your betrothal", he remarked.

"Yes, and among other things", I said hesitantly.

"I don't understand. What else is bothering you"?

"Father have you ever heard of a Great War where the realm fell into chaos and dragons were utilized as warfare", I asked.

He seemed rather shocked at my question. As if this topic has never been brought up before.

"Why would you ask about that"?

"I was in the castle's library the day before we left and came across a book where it was mentioned", I said.

" Y/n I don't know why that book would ever be in our library. After all, those were dark times and nobody likes to discuss what happened. There should not even be any written text on the subject. The war was so gruesome it is too horrible to even be spoken about", he said making sure no one was around to hear.

"If there is supposed to be no written evidence or that it is not to be spoken about, how do you know about it"?

"In each Kingdom, the soon-to-be king or queen is given this knowledge by their parents. It is best that the people don't know because if they do they will be afraid of those days coming back", he said.

"But why? From what I read all the dragons were killed. Why would the people have to be worried"?

"Even though they are all gone we cannot take the chance of the people discovering the truth."

"Does James know anything about this", I asked.

"No, not yet. He has a ways to go before he is crowned King. You are the only one who knows and I am urging you not to tell anyone what you have learned about", he said.

"I understand", I didn't understand though. How is this something you could keep from our people and why would this be so damaging now? It just doesn't make sense.

"Father I also read in the book something about a prop--", the sound of footsteps cut me off as we both looked for any sign of someone.

My father and I could hear the footsteps coming closer and low and behold it turned out to be my mother.

"What are you two doing up here you both should be sleeping", she said with the sound of sleep in her voice.

"I know dear we couldn't sleep so we just talked for a bit. We are heading back now", my father said.

"Alright", she said then made her way back to her compartments.

"Remember what I said Y/n you have to keep it a secret."

"Yes, father", I smiled.

"Ok, I am heading back. Are you coming"?

"Not yet I will be down in a few minutes."

"Ok, I will see you tomorrow morning then", he kissed my forehead and returned back to his room.

Letting out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding my mind was circling with questions about what my father had told me. Looking back up at the sky my mind started to wonder after a while. I started thinking about what would happen in the next couple of days and how it would affect not just me but everyone else.

[betterbemeta]

As it is right now, machine learning image generation is classist. It depends strongly on the human audience's eye for pareidolia to smooth over its inconsistencies and find patterns in its noise where its procedural generation falls short.

This means that the less opportunity a person has to gain context for information, the more likely 'AI art' is to be convincing. As long as that person has been given a baseline to 'believe' the general arrangement of elements, AI art will 'make sense' even if that baseline is just exposure to more acontextual imagery. Which is what the machine learning's algorithms were trained on in the first place.

For example, 'AI' right now struggles to coherently depict plants. When it's not blurry, indistinct plant fur, leaves from different kinds of plants appear on the same stem, plants from the wrong biome are included in 'nature' images. Someone who has very little educational opportunity, but has seen movies where people walk through jungles or forests as set pieces or something, might not notice the difference. And why do you 'need' to know if the plants look right, poor person; you'll never leave your immediate area or take a biology class!

Someone without the opportunity or comfort to travel might not recognize that a cityscape has been artificially generated, depicts no actual real-world city. Is that supposed picture of Dubai or New York City or Cairo showing a real place that exists? Who cares, you're too poor to ever go there.

Searching for information about animal species, even, can get messed up by generated 'content.' Do servals have ear tufts? What kind of insect is that? What species of lizard or snake am I looking at? You don't deserve to know what kinds of animals are real. What time do you have to go to a zoo, if there's even one around you?

The less money you have, the more likely you are to be surrounded by advertising and "AI Art" is ideal for advertising because it only tells a very simple story at best. There's no complicated human emotions; its literally made of averages of what has been seen before. Marketing and advertising content often replaces actual art that might be a window into a greater world. It may even just be dropped in there to fill the awkward silence or blankness that would have otherwise surrounded marketing efforts-- commercials would be surreal without some say-nothing 'music' track behind them, and billboards would be creepy without the graphic noise that surrounds the product and its information. Someone who passes through more monetized public spaces per day will see more of it than someone who inhabits private property.

And like, at the end of the day if you are wealthy... you probably don't care about any of this. You have access to whatever you want, so why do you care what's real? You trust you can 'pay for' the real thing, right?

Plus, who knows the economic status of who generated imagery the machine learning algorithms train on? It's all stolen.

Photography has been critical in modern history for bringing 'the world' across social divisions of class, race, geographical divides. Photographers and filmmakers, along with other visual artists as well as musicians, writers, and journalists associated with all of these disciplines give us lenses, framing, voices, and perspectives to understand our greater world no matter where we are. Hell, identifying the human intentions BEHIND those lenses, framings, voices is key to our development. No matter your circumstances, with a strong grasp of media literacy anyone can sit down and say, wait a minute, is this real, would it be true for me too? Or is this someone's point of view?

To the point of view of wealth and capital, the working class and those without wealth who cannot work (disabled people, displaced people, homeless people shut out of employment, and more) do not deserve to know about reality. To that point of view, nonwealthy people don't deserve to even know who created the perspectives they're allowed to see. You can be born, get trained to work, go to work, come home to the minimum, repeat, and die having seen no images of reality for all they care. They'd like that! How can you dream of something outside the current exploitative structure if you can't even trust you know what plants and animals and cities look like, outside your tiny box?