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lex-the-flex · 9 months

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Darker Than Wine

Astarion x Mortal! reader

Summary: In the ruined castle, the King silently rules over all that is dark and unnatural. Shrouded in the endless mysteries of his cruel abilities, he hungers for something stronger than wine.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning(s): Moments of fluff, Astarion being a true lover/King, (spoiling the reader), established relationship, Astarion and the reader opening up, brief alcohol consumption, 18+ – PURE SMUT, basic porn with little plot lol, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), loss of virginity, oral (f! receiving), HEAVY vampirism, blood, descriptions of injuries, and brief moments of pain.

A/N: From what I've seen from BG3, I'm absolutely IN LOVE with Astarion and Neil's incredible voice acting! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

A defining silence takes over the once great castle, inviting only superstitions and ghost stories to walk through the grand halls. Memories of the past overtook the ruins of Cazador's Palace and were replaced with newer, happier ones. But only behind closed doors.

On the outside however, the various village occupants did not dare to enter through the large doors, in fear of the cruel King who sat on his throne, ruling over nothing but darkness.

Hiding in the shadows, The Pale Elf accomplished all, and he achieved this with a mortal by his side. Except there was one problem: he thirsted for something more greater than wine.

The library's cozy atmosphere brought an inviting sense of serenity by the warmth of the infinite fireplace. Sitting on a lounge chair, you tried to focus on a new novel from the seemingly endless bookshelves containing sheltered and well-preserved books from the two hundred years of your husband and his master’s adventures long before you were born.

Taking another sip from your wine glass, the tart dark liquid helps you focus, but only for a millisecond. Scrunching your eyebrows together, you tried to get back into the book, but another presence from the far corner of the room distracts you once more.

“You’re staring again, Astarion.” You announced, closing your book and leaving your place bookmarked with your finger.

Turning to face him, his silver orbs glow in the darkness, before returning to his normal red.

“It just comes naturally, dear. Especially in your soothing presence.” Astarion replies, walking to the chair.

Cupping your face from behind, Astarion leans down and meets your lips for a small kiss.

“Mm, delectable. You know I’ll never get used to this.” He says with a smile.

“Well, we are married after all. So you might have too.” You reply, setting your book down.

"And yet I still don't know what comes next. But as long as you're here, we can truly accomplish anything, Y/N." Astarion says, walking around to face you.

Closing his arms around you, he lowers his chin to your shoulder, never getting tired of your embrace. Silently shaking in his touch, your breath hitches between your pink lips. Taking your arms in his hands, Astarion faces you with a wave of concern emerging in every corner of his face.

"You're shaking. Is everything alright, darling?" He asks, gently stroking your cheek.

"Everything's fine. I promise, it's just..." You start, but mumble with your answer.

"But what? It was Araj again, wasn't it? She said something to you." Astarion assumes, and a wave of rage begins to boil in his blood.

"No, it wasn't Araj, I swear. I'd like to--" You try again, but can't.

"You'd what?" Astarion continues, leaning his forehead to yours, hoping to calm your nerves.

"I'd like to do what we talked about. Finally making our marriage real ...and holding up my end of our deal." You explain, swallowing your embarrassment.

Taking in your confession, Astarion overcomes his tiny state of shock.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I'd love to, darling." He whispers, hesitant to give you an answer.

“Are you sure?” You ask, sliding your hands to his shoulders.

“I’ve never wanted anything more for the last two years.” He replies, pressing his lips to yours.

*****

Guiding you back to the dark space of your shared private chambers, Astarion swung his cape from his shoulders, tossing it to a nearby wardrobe chest. Cupping your jawline with both hands, he passionately kissed you in the dimly lit room, carefully backing you towards the large bed.

Carefully removing your dress, Astarion’s fingers graze around the curves of your hips before reaching your waistline, desperately ready to have you. Throwing the piece of fabric back into the room, you playfully gasped at the action, to which he replied with his signature smirk.

“We can always buy you another one, dear.” Astarion said, just as he began removing his boots.

Taking off the remainder of his ebony robes, Astarion lifts you in his touch, gently laying you down. Tracing his lips over your shoulders, you gasped at his softness.

“Astarion?” You asked, lifting your head to face him.

“Yes, my love?” He replied, giving you his full attention.

“…Go slow, please.” You hesitated, shyly squeezing his shoulder.

A brief pause filled the air whilst he instantly knew what you meant.

“Oh, then this’ll be delicious.” He teased, smirking at your request.

Descending your body, Astarion sank to his knees before continuing up your nude form with sweet, yet feverish kisses. Gliding his way down to your inner thighs, his lips ran along the sensitive skin, before parting your folds with his tongue, earning himself your first real moan.

“That’s it, darling. Don’t hide your lust from me.” Astarion instructed as he held your hips down.

Gathering your bundle of nerves in his mouth, his tongue pushes past your entrance. Swirling around your ecstasy, and he took his time eating you out before you eventually came all over his tongue. Collecting yourself, the stars in your eyes faded and you were greeted by the sight of Astarion hovering above you.

“You alright?” He asked, observing your current state.

“More than alright.” You answered with a quick giggle.

“Excellent.” He smiled, then guided your legs around his hips.

Aligning himself with your dripping folds, Astarion teased you with his erect tip, prepping you to take all of him. Pushing his manhood past your entrance, you both moaned together at this feeling. Slowly moving his hips against your own, Astarion heeded your wishes, and took in your lust that was clogging his lungs.

Grazing his teeth over the flesh of collarbones, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, prompting him to continue. Astarion’s sharp fangs teased your ticklish skin, forcing a layer of goosebumps to rise up. Feeling the rhythm of your pulse in his pointed ears, he enjoyed the pounding pace of your heartbeat one last time before thrusting deeper into you.

Following in time with his thrusts, your hands slid down to his ass, and your shared moans became music to his ears. Feeling a heat rising in the pit of your stomach, you tensed at this sensation, but your husband was right there to guide you.

Your walls tightened around Astarion’s cock which made him see stars beneath his red eyes. A growl emerged from his chest and he quickened his pace, riding out your orgasm with love and adoration. Finishing after you, you both held your sweaty and exhausted bodies closer just as rays of sunlight pierced through the gaps in the curtains.

Collecting you in his arms, Astarion sat you on his lap, giving you reassuring kisses along the way. Running your fingers through his hair, you traced your fingers along Astarion’s eyebrows and jawline, humming at his eternal beauty,

“If you were to do this, Y/N, there’s no going back. You’d be leaving your mortal life behind. Are you sure you want this?” He asks with a bit of sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sure. This is what I want, and I want it with you.” You replied, running your fingers through his hair.

Nodding at your decision, Astarion lowered his lips to your chest, pressing kisses to your bare breasts. Rolling his tongue around your nipples, he tugged on your breasts with his teeth before letting go with a satisfying pop. Trailing up to your collarbones, the echo of your pulse rang in his Elven ears, causing them to tingle.

The sharpness of his fangs gilded against your neck, tickling your throat as Astarion gathered you in his arms and bit down on your flesh. Sinking his teeth into your warm skin, he ravished in the taste of blood. The sweetness drove him mad and he took what he desired. The sounds of your voice brought him back, Astarion continued and carefully bit his own wrist before encasing your lips around the small wound.

Drinking in his blood, Astarion gently laid you back down, and watched you transform into your new vampire body, giving you the most beautiful pair of crimson eyes he’d ever seen.

tagging ~

@dreamliners

@violetthecreator

@the-resident-vampire

@bitten-by-astarion

@loveandfictionforall

@tripleyeeet

@macabre-mangled

@demigoddessqueens

@sweatandwoe

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #the pale elf

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babybluebex · 4 months

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i saw ur message abt angus tully requests and🙈🙈 if u feel like it i would love to read a first kiss fic, but honestly i'd read anything !!!!

as you requested... :) word count: 1k

When you first met Angus, you didn’t consider him as someone you could fall for. He was a little short-tempered, a little too sarcastic for your tastes, but he was smart— even though you didn’t go to the same school, he still came into town on Wednesday afternoons and met you at the library to tutor you in biology. Even though Angus could definitely be hard to deal with sometimes, he helped you get the grades that you needed, and you were endlessly appreciative of him.

Your biology midterm was next week, and you and Angus should have by all means been studying, but you weren’t. You were listening to him talk about his school, the prestigious Barton Academy, and how the all-boys school wasn’t exactly conducive to finding a date. “Not that I even wanna go to winter formal,” Angus said, twirling his pencil in his fingers. “But my mom and stepdad say I should.”

“Who’re you taking?” you asked. Your school also had a dance at the end of the semester, but you guys weren’t fancy enough to call it a “formal”. You were also in need of a date, and had briefly considered just going by yourself; you were better off on your own, anyway.

Angus shrugged. “Not a lot of girls for me to ask,” he said. “Not that any girl would wanna go out with me anyway.”

“Oh, whatever,” you scoffed, gently erasing your work on your paper and rewriting the answer. “You’ve gotta have girls swooning all over you.”

Angus barked out a laugh. “You flatter me,” he grumbled. “You think girls give me the time of day? That’s really funny.”

You lifted your eyes from your paper up to Angus’s face, and you scrunched your eyebrows. “I mean, why not?” you asked. “You kinda have that Bob Dylan thing going on; if you went to my school, you would be everybody’s favorite.”

“Mm, but I don’t go to your school,” Angus hummed. “The guys at Barton think I’m just a pest.”

“Well, I don’t think that,” you offered lightly. “I think you’re pretty cool.”

“Thanks,” Angus said softly. “I think you’re… Ahem, pretty cool too.” His cheeks went red as he cleared his throat, and his eyes flicked down to your textbook to break eye contact. Suddenly, he was quiet, his face burning; you had never seen Angus be shy before.

“Angus?” you said. He said nothing, his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip, and you reached out to him, letting your fingertips brush his chin, lifting his face to look at you. You tilted your head as you watched him squirm, but he made no effort to move your hand from his face or try to move you away. “You know what I mean… When I said you’re pretty cool, right?”

Angus took a breath, and he nodded quietly. “I meant the same thing,” he admitted. “Only, I… I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I don’t know how to do this.”

Your hand dropped from his face, and you took up his hand from the table, twining your fingers together with his. His skin was soft and cold, and his grip was immediate and strong. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” you told him. “A real boyfriend, at least.”

“What’s a real boyfriend?” Angus asked, leaning forward in his seat to get closer to you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I mean, like… I’ve never had a guy get all shy around me or anything. Act like he really likes me, and isn’t just dating me to cheat off of me in history class.”

Angus chuckled breathlessly. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me,” he said, and you smiled. “Umm… Can I… Kiss you? I’ve kinda wanted to ever since I met you…”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” you asked.

“Have you?” Angus asked quickly.

“I asked you first,” you smiled, and Angus huffed as he chuckled.

“Um, no,” Angus coughed. “I’ve always gone to all-boys schools… Last time I had a girl I talked to regularly, I was in preschool. And that doesn’t really count, I think.”

“Probably not,” you agreed. “I’ve kissed one other guy before. It was the boyfriend who would cheat off of me, and he kissed me sometimes, but… Never anything else.”

“Okay, so you’re marginally more experienced than I am,” Angus said and jokingly rolled his eyes. “You can’t get mad at me if I’m a bad kisser.”

“I would never,” you told him. You both hesitated for a moment, trying to read each other’s minds, and, before you could speak first, Angus cupped your cheek with his soft palm and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate to lean into his kiss, reaching out and wrapping your fingers around his thin wrist, and he sank into you, letting himself relax.

You finally broke the kiss with a big smile, and Angus chuckled, and you shifted away quickly when your teeth clacked together. “Was that good?” Angus asked, nervously pressing his lips into a thin line as his eyes stayed locked on yours. “Why’re you laughing, was it that bad?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m not laughing at you,” you chuckled, shaking your head. You watched his cheeks go pink again at the pet name, and you said, “I’m just… Happy.”

“Good,” Angus said. His hand reached for yours, pressing his fingers between yours, and he said, “Right... What were we talking about?”

“Well, we were talking about, like, biology and stuff, for my exam next week,” you said. “But then we started talking about your winter formal and my school dance, and how we didn’t have dates.”

“Oh, right,” Angus said. “Umm… I-I guess, maybe, if you want, I could go with you to your dance.”

“As my date?” you asked, and Angus nodded. “I think I’d like that a lot. And maybe I can be your date to the winter formal?”

“As long as you can deal with the stuck-up pricks at my school,” Angus grumbled, and you grinned, leaning in and kissing Angus’s cheek.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

#bex answers #anon ask #angus tully x reader #angus tully

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ckret2 · 2 months

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Chapter 39 of human Bill Cipher is SURE he's about to escape being the Mystery Shack's prisoner:

Ford's confronted with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he's a little bit too obsessed with Bill.

And meanwhile, Bill has found a way to reach his loyal cultists... if he can find somebody willing to help him make contact.

He thinks Ford is the perfect target.

Maybe, just maybe, the obsession goes both ways.

(warning for an incident of self-harm via burning, and depersonalization and/or dysphoria (depending on how you interpret it) re: Bill feeling even worse about his body than usual.)

####

Soos, Stan, and Ford had stayed up half the night trying to generate enough NowUSeeitNowUDontium to prevent it from vanishing the moment one of them lost (or gained) focus. They'd eventually given up and stayed the night in Northwest Manor. Soos had texted Melody around midnight, and she'd immediately replied (which alarmed Ford, but Soos assured him she was used to those hours) and agreed, with some trepidation, to spend the night by herself in the shack so that the kids wouldn't be alone all night with Bill. She'd texted a half hour later to report that the bathroom was a disaster, but the kids had reassured her it was just some werewolf thing, so, not a big deal.

Ford had thought getting to spend a night without Bill under the same roof would be a relief. Instead, he found his sleep was even worse. He kept worrying about what Bill might get up to so far away and out of sight, where Ford couldn't do anything to stop him. Surely, by nighttime, Bill had to have noticed that the only humans he'd seen all day were the kids? Would he consider Melody any kind of threat, no veteran to combating Gravity Falls' weirdness?

It figured that the dream demon would find a way to disrupt Ford's sleep when he wasn't even there.

####

Ford had given up on sleep around two in the morning and gone wandering until he stumbled across a den with walls covered in bookcases, massive windows overlooking the forest below, and a pair of richly upholstered armchairs turned to gaze out the windows. He drifted between the chairs to one of the windows. It was the kind of personal library he'd dreamed of accepting esteemed guests in, back when he'd fantasized about one day being rich and famous. He suspected the Northwests had never read a book in this room.

Ford had been staring out at the still night and the dark pines for several minutes when he heard the creak of a door and soft footsteps behind him. He whirled around, raising a weapon. "Back, you spectral fiend!"

"Whoa! Easy, Sixer!" Stan held up a hand defensively. "It's just me!" He lowered his hand. "Why are you holding up a dinner plate?"

"Er—sorry." Ford sheepishly tucked the silver dish under his arm again. "I'm sure I saw a ghost earlier. I thought it prudent to arm myself."

Stan muttered, "This place sure is creepy enough for it."

"Mm. It's built on more than its fair share of bones." Ford returned to gazing out the window, hands clasped behind his back. "I'm sorry today was a failure. When I'm staring right at an experiment on which the fate of the entire universe depends, it's hard not to think about it."

"Eh, I wasn't doing too hot either," Stan admitted, joining Ford at the window. "There's only so many times you can hear Soos whisper 'Think about the miniature particle accelerator' in your ears on a loop before you zone out and start thinking about fishing season."

Ford huffed. "Maybe we should have switched places."

"Yeah, probably. I retired from thinking about science after I got your dumb portal running, and once you get your head stuck on something you can't stop thinking about it."

Ford laughed wryly. "Unfortunately accurate."

There was a moment of silence; and then Stan said cautiously, "Speaking of you getting your head stuck on something..."

Ford didn't like that tone. "Hm?"

"I was, uh... doing some light reading..." He held up Ford's journal.

A jolt of anger and fear shot through Ford. "Give me—" He snatched the journal back.

It wasn't until it was in his hands that he registered the absurdity of his own action; for the past year, he'd given Stan free access to Journal 5. He'd used it to document their travels and discoveries as a reference for them both; he'd even asked Stan to contribute a couple of entries. Based on a prior precedent of seven months, Stan had every right to look at Journal 5. Revoking that access now was... Well, it didn't look good.

Stan didn't immediately say anything. Ford supposed his own actions said enough. He tucked the journal under his arm with the silver dish.

Stan cleared his throat. "I think we're a little past the 'superhero nemesis' thing."

"It's not a problem," Ford said tersely.

"Not a prob—? Ford, you're letting him consume your life."

"He's consumed all our lives. The kids haven't been able to invite anyone over, Melody all but runs to her car after work, you ended up in a showdown with fae nobility—"

"It was just the tooth fairy!"

"Do you know how important a fairy has to be to claim dominion over all teeth?"

"Forget about the fairy!" Stan waved off the whole fairy topic with one hand. "Look, I'm not the one who's dedicated half a journal to talking about him!"

"You don't keep a journal, Stanley—"

"That's not the point!"

"—I'm just saying, if you did keep a journal, I think he'd have come up on more than a few pages—"

"But like this?" Stan gestured toward Ford's journal. "This is turning into an obsession. And not one of your normal obsessions."

The back of Ford's neck heated up. He wanted to argue that he had to obsess over Bill if he hoped to find a way to kill him—but Stan already knew that Ford had passed off that project to Fiddleford weeks ago. "How can I be 'obsessed' with somebody I barely even see? I'm avoiding Bill like my life depends on it! I talk to him less than Mrs. Ramirez does!"

"And you're using avoiding him as an excuse to obsess over him even more in private!" Stan gestured again, angrily, at Ford's journal. (Ford defensively tucked it further under his arm.) "You're acting like a stalker, Sixer. Not that I care about him, but, I'm starting to worry about your head."

"A st—?! I'm a scientist, he's a scientific curiosity! I'm documenting him! I document plenty of things!"

"Not like this, you don't."

"There's a lot to document!"

"Including spending a whole page trying to figure out—how to draw his—?!" Stan gestured furiously toward his boxers.

Ford pointed at him severely. "You were just as curious as I was to find out how a giant eyeball and a sentient triangle make that work, don't pretend you weren't."

Stan grimaced. "Okay, fine, I'll give you that one. But writing a full entry about his posture?"

"He's not only an alien being in a human body but a two-dimensional creature in a three-dimensional body, how he moves and gestures could tell us about how an utterly unfamiliar species perceived space! Nearly all his gestures adhere to an invisible coronal plane, that betrays worlds of information about his original anatomy. Do you know that elbow thing he does when he walks—"

"Ford. You're using your great-niece to get drawings of his childhood bedroom."

Ford raised a finger. "That's—" Ford lowered his finger. Ford sat in a nearby armchair, put his chin in his hands, and stared into space. "What am I doing."

Stan patted his shoulder.

Ford slid his journal and the dish out from under his arm and settled them in his lap. He stared at the cover, then thumbed through the pages. It was obvious when they'd returned to Gravity Falls; the drawings of Atlanteans, were-rats, shorelines, and boats immediately gave way to page after page of staring slit-pupiled eyes.

"It's just... Bill is an ancient being, many times older than our universe, and the last surviving specimen of his own bizarre species. As both an anomaly and a source of esoteric knowledge, he's an invaluable subject of study. He's going to die soon, and he should die, but... between now and then, I don't want to pass up the last ever opportunity to study him."

Stan sank down into the chair opposite Ford. "You're listening to yourself, right?" He didn't sound angry anymore, just worried. "This is a guy who tried to kill us. He isn't a 'specimen' you can add to your collection of weird stuff, you know that, right?"

"I know, I know." That was exactly why it was so important—why it seemed so important—to capture Bill in words and pictures before it was too late. (It was funny, Ford thought, how Stan's very first conversation with Bill had been a murder, and yet he was the one who talked about Bill like he was just some guy; while Ford had spent so many years obsessively trying to find out who Bill was that he'd almost forgotten he was a person instead of a terrible idea.)

"When execution day comes and you think you haven't dug up enough of his history, what'll you do? Give him a stay of execution until he's dictated his memoirs to you?"

"No," Ford said immediately. "No, of course not. I'm just taking advantage of the opportunity to learn what I can, while I can. It's no different from your 'shopping trip' at the mall—"

"Hey!" Stan pointed a finger at Ford. "Watch it! That was strictly business! It's not like I'm attached to the guy—"

"I didn't mean anything by it! I just meant—as long as we're stuck with Bill, make him useful, and—and to heck with him after that. Right?" Like Stan had said about the scratch cards: why throw away free money just because of the source? "He'd do the same to us."

Stan hesitated. "And you're sure that when the time comes, you'll be ready to pull the trigger?"

"I know I will. It won't be the first time. I'm just glad that this time I'll be able to aim at his own head."

"Hm." Stan didn't look convinced.

Ford sighed. "But, if I think I'll waver—I'll hand you the gun."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I promise."

But he knew he didn't need to.

####

Soos drove the tired gang home just past dawn, early enough for him to open the Mystery Shack on schedule.

"Soon as we get home, I'm going back to sleep," Stan muttered crankily. Ford—eyes shut, leaning against the window—nodded in agreement. Stan yawned, "And there'd better not be any nasty surprises at the shack."

####

Bill sat sleeping in his attic window seat, knees to his chest, leaning against the window, ear pressed to the glass.

Outside, Stan wailed, "My car!"

Bill's eyes snapped open. He smiled.

He ran to the kids' room, knocked on the door—"Hey, the bigger Pines are back!"—and bolted for the stairs.

####

Soos got the door open at the exact same time Bill stumbled off the stairs and collided with the living room doorframe. Bill grabbed the doorframe just long enough to steady himself, and then bounded over to the door, shoved Soos and Ford aside, and leaned out onto the porch. "HIYA, STAN!"

Stan whipped around to face Bill. "YOU!" He gestured furiously at the wizard graffiti on his car. "WHAT did you DO to my CAR!"

"Do you like it?"

Stan let out an inarticulate scream of rage.

"Oh, you love it!"

"You massacred it! I've had this car forty-five years! I've done things in this car I can't say! And it's never, never been so—so—violated!"

Grinning ear to ear, Bill said, "What do you think of the girl wizard?"

"The what?!" Stan circled the car. He screamed again.

"Uh-huh?"

"Why does she have a beard!"

"Go on," Bill said gleefully, "tell me what you think! I want the full review!"

"This," Stan said, "is the most ugly, hideous, terrible—"

Bill glanced back at a sound on the stairs. "Oh, hey Mabel! Get over here!" He gestured proudly as Mabel joined him in the doorway. "And here's the artistic mastermind herself!"

Stan choked on his words. "—b... beautiful, stunning, museum-worthy work of art I've ever seen."

Mabel beamed. "It's not finished yet, we ran out of some colors! I was going to add a dragon on the hood!"

Stan's face went white. "No no, it's... perfect the way it is. Don't—don't change a thing."

"Really? You're sure? I don't mind!"

"Really." Looking slightly nauseous, Stan said, "I love it just like this, pumpkin."

Mabel squealed and ran outside to give him a big hug.

Bill was fighting back silent laughter so hard he almost fell down.

####

"...And I still haven't found any sign of the Nightwigglers," Dipper said, sighing dejectedly and dropping his journal on the counter next to the cash register. "So, I dunno, maybe I should give up on this one and move on."

Wendy was sitting back with her feet kicked up on the counter, but she straightened a bit to look at Dipper's journal. She skimmed the news article he'd paperclipped to one page. "Oh, I heard about this," she said. "The cops talked to me about the first burglary. I was in the thrift shop that day."

"Oh, yeah?" Dipper pointed at the picture next to the article. "Did you see anything like this?"

Wendy's eyes widened. "No—but I think one of my brothers did."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, he was talking about it a couple nights ago. He said it was like an armless white thing wearing pants that went up to its face. We all thought he got spooked by a deer butt or something and made up the whole story. Then dad said we should drop it and told us we should stay in at night."

"That's when they come out! At night!" Dipper laughed excitedly. "Do you think your dad knows something?"

"Pfff, not if he can help it." Wendy pulled her feet off the counter and checked the clock. "I could show you the start of the trail my brother was on. It's like ten minutes by bike and the next big tour bus isn't getting here for half an hour, wanna sneak out?"

"Are you serious?! Of course!"

"Just promise you won't tell Gus if we find something. We've been making fun of him for days and I don't want to admit he was right." Wendy laughed. "Let me grab somebody to cover."

"I'll get my bike!" Dipper was already headed out the door. "I've been looking for a lead for days! I dug through half the dumpsters in town searching for their nests..." The door swung shut behind him.

Wendy ducked into the living room. "Hey Goldie."

"Yello?" He was sitting cross legged on the couch watching TV.

"I've gotta do something with Dipper, do you mind covering for a little bit? Just twenty, thirty minutes."

His gaze flickered to the TV, then back to Wendy's face. "Sure! Anything for you, cool girl."

Wendy had a brief, eerie sense of déjà vu. She shook it off. "I'm not interrupting anything good, am I?" She nodded at the TV.

"Naaah, it's one of those terrible specials about pyramid conspiracies." He shook a cider can, "I'm taking a sip every time they mention Fishmasons or 'ancient dinosaur-worshiping civilization.'"

"Dude. You'll be wasted before the first commercial break."

"Really, you're saving me from myself." He set the can on the TV and followed Wendy into the gift shop. (As he did, Bill checked to see if he had anything on under his hoodie. No? The Pines didn't want him to be seen in public in his hoodie; they thought it would make him "too obvious." He rolled up the sleeves to hide some of the brick pattern and surreptitiously tucked the hood and the bow tie drawstrings into the collar.)

As she headed out the door, Wendy repeated, "Just twenty minutes! Thirty tops. I'll get back before the next tour bus, promise."

"No problem!" He waved her off.

"I owe you one!"

Bill made a note of that.

He looked around the gift shop—any readily-obvious mischief he could get up to? He grabbed an 8-ball cane and took it to the counter. And then he took the stool behind the register, propped his chin in his hand, gazed toward the living room, and resumed watching TV through the wall and backwards. He didn't miss hearing the conspiracy talk—he was sure it was actively making him stupider—but credit where credit was due; they made those CGI pyramid models really hot.

A cutaway of one pyramid showed its internal tunnels and chambers. Bill bit his lower lip. Oh yeah. That's what he came here for.

Several minutes went by. The door opened and a lone tourist crept in, a middle-aged woman with a sun-damaged tan. Bill straightened up and switched his eye patch over to hide his bleeding eye. "Heya! Next tour's in..." He checked the clock, how long until the next bus? "About fifteen minutes."

The woman nodded and quietly started circling the gift shop.

Bill glanced toward the living room, decided he'd better not start damaging his other eye too, mentally cursed the tourist, and pulled out one of Wendy's magazines to read. "Let me know if you need anything."

The tourist spent several minutes making a slow circuit of the room, and then crept up to the cash register. Bill looked up with a smile, didn't see any souvenirs in her hands, and asked, "Can I help you?"

Hesitantly, the woman said, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

Bill's eye flew wide open, his heart leaped into his throat, and his breath hitched. His gaze roved over her exposed skin until he spied a tattoo on her right arm: four triangles stacked atop each other, starting with an equilateral and each getting shorter and more obtuse as they descended, until they'd reduced completely and a single horizontal line underlined all four triangles. This wasn't quite the happiest he'd ever been to see the symbol of a devastatingly self-destructive high-control cult, but it was close. "Oh! Oh, this is—" He rubbed his temples, squeezing his eye shut. "I know this. I rhymed 'red' with 'pyramid.' Why do I give everyone a different code. 'But rises gold over the pyramid'—something like that, right?" Bill gave the woman a pleading look. "I'm close enough that you can tell I know what you're talking about!"

A look of relief washed over her face. "You know him." Voice low, she asked, "Is it safe to talk?"

Knew him? He was him. But he couldn't claim that without proving it—what would convince her?—telling her something that only he knew?—great, but what? Her face was vaguely familiar—he thought he might've given her a visionary dream once—but he had so many little worshipers and they were so unimportant, most of them blurred together.

So all he could do was say, "It's not safe. Everyone here is an enemy."

She nodded sharply. "Where can we meet?"

Bill paused. "We can't. I'm... trapped."

Her brows creased with worry. "They're keeping you prisoner?"

"Afraid so."

"I could get the police—"

"Everyone," Bill repeated, "is an enemy."

She paused, processing that. Bill's gaze flickered to the clock. Wendy said twenty minutes, thirty tops. She'd been gone twenty-two minutes. "Someone's coming any minute."

"Right." The cultist grabbed Wendy's magazine, tore a corner off a page, and grabbed a pen.

"How did you find me?" Bill asked. Of all the tourist traps in all the tiny towns in all the world, how had she come in hereand walked right up to him?

"We were told a devotee was here," she said. "Someone sent the address and phone number to the Bahamian art studio."

Bill's mind spun. How? Who the heck would know to do that? The only person who knew he was here who'd come anywhere close to any of Bill's other worshipers was...

Ford? No. Did he?

The cultist shoved the paper in his hand and turned to leave.

Bill grabbed her arm. "Stay out of Gravity Falls," he commanded. "But stay close. Don't go back to Death Valley." Between the sun damage and the tattoo, she had to be one of his Death Valley girls. She looked like their usual prey: disaffected middle class white woman, probably had a dead end job and a mediocre husband and a useless degree from a liberal arts college. Maybe being able to guess where she came from would impress her.

It did. She stopped and turned back and looked at him in amazement—and then looked at him, staring hard at his eye. "You're... hosting him, aren't you?" Her voice fell to a whisper. "No. Are you...?"

"You got me." He smiled wryly—behold him, electric god bound in flesh, how low he's fallen, but at least he still has his good humor, doesn't he? "I always said you had great intuition." (It was a safe bet. He usually told the ladies that they had great intuition. Most of them ate that up, and the ones that didn't were often a little too savvy to sucker.)

It worked. She inhaled sharply. "You are," she breathed. "I knew you'd be a woman. Oh, Mary's a fool." She said this like she'd just won some years-old argument Bill had missed.

Mary, as in Mary-whom-Bill-had-put-in-charge-of-the-Death-Valley-compound Mary? Ha. She was getting on in years; maybe Bill could start a schism, that sounded fun. He opened his mouth to say something about Mary having great leadership but waning clarity of vision—

—when the cultist leaned across the counter, grabbed his collar, and pulled him into a kiss.

Okay. All right. She was one of those cultists. Got it. Got it got it got it. Wow. Definitely a "mediocre husband" convert, those were easy to seduce away with a little warmth and affection—nothing obvious, but get them infatuated with the idea of an unattainable incorporeal ideal lover and they'd chase him to the ends of the earth. Maybe a lesbian in denial that Bill had decided to push further into denial, if her assumption about Bill's gender was anything to go by. He tried to remember what he'd told this one.

He leaned into the kiss.

He'd done this before—in dreams, in puppets—he didn't prefer humans, but he could handle them well enough and earthlings had such pretty eyes. And this body he was stuck in made such insistent demands; a surge of human hormones washed over his brain so powerfully it made him dizzy. She broke the kiss to murmur, "Cipher, my lord—" and he took the opportunity to kiss her eyelid and lie, "I knew if anyone could find me, it would be you." He wished he remembered her name. She tugged his face back down to her lips. She was so eager. Cipher, my lord. Oh, it felt good to be revered again—

The door opened. "Um?"

If Bill had had one ounce of his power, he would have killed Wendy on the spot.

Instead, he seized his cultist's hands, ripped them off his hoodie, and shoved her away. "Whoa, lady! What do you think this is, a kissing booth?!" He laughed angrily. "We don't offer that kind of service here! Either get out, or—or buy a souvenir already!" He pointed at Wendy. "From her. Not from me."

Shocked, the cultist turned toward where Bill was pointing; and then turned back, understanding in her eyes.

Wendy raised her hands defensively, grimacing. "Yeah, no, I'm not serving you either. Just... get outta here."

The cultist met Bill's gaze for just a moment, then walked quickly out the door without a word.

Bill shouted after her, "And do not come back!" and quietly mourned as, for the second time in as many weeks, he had to watch helplessly as he sent away his only hope of getting any action/rescue.

"I am so, so sorry," Wendy said. "I leave for like ten minutes and you get one of the nightmare customers."

How Bill loved nightmares. "Twenty-five minutes, but who's counting."

"Psh, shut up." Wendy reclaimed her post behind the counter. "I think she's been here before, she looks kinda familiar. You okay?"

Bill hoped nobody else in town would recognize her. "I think I'll live after some mouthwash. Terrible breath." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Hey, remember when you said you owe me one? You really owe me."

####

All his cultist had written for him was a phone number. Bill slid his stolen journal from its window hiding spot and copied the number down in two-tone dots and dashes. Plaintext transcriptions were usually tricky, given the vast difference between the language Bill wrote in and the languages humans used—but numbers, at least, were easy. Everyone had numbers.

And then he stared at the scrap of paper, reading the numbers over and over, until he was sure he'd memorized them, just in case he ever lost the journal.

And then he ate the paper.

And then he stacked the two cushions of his makeshift bed on top of each other, planted his face in them, and screamed.

Cipher, my lord. It had felt so, so, so good to be revered again.

His organs twisted with touch-hunger and loneliness.

####

Out in the Bahamas, along the southwest edge of the Bermuda Triangle, were two nut job hermits from Miami. Bill had convinced them that the only way they could purge their sins and purify their souls was by sculpting and selling golden avatars of God into which they could pour their guilt, and they had to keep doing it until they no longer felt guilty (and they would never not feel guilty; they needed so much therapy that Bill had ensured they'd never get). And then he'd convinced them that God's true face was an Eye of Providence in a top hat and bow tie.

Over the years he'd lost a little control over those two—in their desperation to be free of sin, they'd also started sculpting avatars to as many gods as they could find and selling them en masse to afford more art supplies—but hey, as long as his face was still mixed in with the rest, fine. Honestly, he was surprised those nuts weren't dead yet.

Somebody in this house had sent his location to them. And in a moment of what Bill imagined was stunning mental clarity, they had passed on that information to the single least dysfunctional pocket of Bill's top cult in the continental United States. Maybe when Bill was back at full power, he'd drop by the hermits' dreams to tell them they'd finally achieved absolution and could rest. Their decades of out-of-control scrupulosity would probably prevent them from believing him, but hey, he could say he'd tried. He washed his hands of all responsibility over them and their mental illnesses that he'd knowingly deliberately exacerbated for his own benefit. Not his problem.

But the question he came back to, over and over, was who had talked to them.

Bill needed to reach his Death Valley cultist. He needed a phone. Every phone in this house was well-guarded. No one would let him touch one... except, perhaps, whoever had sent the SOS on his behalf.

The only person who made sense was Stanford. Bill didn't think he'd ever told Ford about the nutty sculptors; but in the eighties he had given him the mailing addresses of some niche art dealers who would sell tapestries and statues of an obscure one-eyed god to collectors who could appreciate what they were looking at. Maybe Ford had gotten back in contact with them? Maybe he'd told them where Bill was, and they'd passed the information to the Bahamas?

Maybe Ford's feelings weren't quite so cold toward Bill as he'd been pretending.

Bill liked that idea a lot.

Maybe Bill's birthday gift had swung Ford back around to the side of reason—reminded him just how good he'd had it under a muse and mentor willing to teach him anything his nerdy little heart desired. Or maybe he'd always wanted to come back, and had just needed Bill to say it first.

He probably only pretended he hated Bill because they were surrounded by enemies—everyone in the house thought Ford was looking for a way to destroy Bill, what would happen if they knew the truth?

But the truth was there. Bill could almost seize it in his hands. All those moments where they almost talked like they were friends again, before Ford had to stop himself and leave. That one beautiful little word: jealous. And of course, there was the whole thing with the glass pyramid and the "Mysteries" that Ford had passed on—

—to Mabel.

There was another possibility.

As much as Bill would love if it was Ford, Mabel was the only person in the house who acted like she actually wanted Bill alive. Whatever "Mysteries" Ford was teaching her had something to do with Bill, the pyramid made that obvious. Maybe his lessons included the contact information of everyone else Ford knew who knew Bill? Maybe she'd taken it upon herself to call for help?

It was thin. And it was still dependent upon Ford harboring a secret loyalty to Bill that he was passing on to his great-niece. But that was where things stood: Ford was the only person in the house who definitely knew how to reach Bill's followers, but Mabel was the only person in the house who definitely might want to.

And he had to make completely sure of which one of them it was before he asked for a favor.

####

Ford had missed dinner again.

Fiddleford had sent Ford home with a pile of math. All the calculations he'd done to get the miniature particle accelerator to produce Dontium. By his reckoning, that there jar should've filled with Dontium faster than greased lightning; he just plumb can't understand why it trickled in like cold molasses. (His words.) He'd asked Ford to check his work, see if he'd missed something.

Ford was more than happy to help. It was a much-needed intellectual challenge that didn't involve Bill's underhanded birthday gift. Something that would let him feel like he was making progress. And it was comfortingly familiar. He and Fiddleford had spent weeks checking and re-checking each other's math in the lead up to the portal test, before they knew what a horror they were building.

As soon as Ford had gotten home, he'd put Fiddleford's papers in his underground study before going back to bed. Bill had already admitted he could glimpse the future, although Ford wasn't sure how far; and Ford was growing convinced that Bill's ability to perceive "higher dimensions" let him see through walls like they weren't there. He'd begun keeping Journal 5 and other sensitive materials down in his study at all times, hoping that the distance and layers of dirt and rock would keep Bill from peering in.

And when he'd dragged himself out of bed around noon—an embarrassingly late hour to get up, but he had been awake most of the night—he'd grabbed a quick breakfast/lunch, brewed a pot of coffee to take with him, and gone below to get to work.

He'd only worked seven or eight hours with a couple of reluctant breaks in the middle before his head began pounding too hard for him to ignore. He'd been neglecting his exercise regimen the past few weeks, and his back and neck were letting him know. In his thirties, he'd been able to work fourteen hours days and still want to keep going—and that was even before he'd handed his body over to Bill so he could keep working around the clock. He wasn't as young as he used to be.

He dragged himself upstairs after sunset, when the last ambient light from the sky still faintly glowed through the windows. He could make something quick and simple for dinner, go to bed early, and get up early to continue working. He pushed through the door to the dark living room—

"Hello!"

"Gah!" Ford jumped. "You. What are you doing here?"

Bill was leaning next to the door, a dim silhouette with his elbow on the wall and cheek in his hand. Even in the dark, Ford was sure he could see Bill's wicked grin at his reaction. "I happen to live here."

Ford let out an irritated huff. "Whatever you're up to, I don't have time to deal with it. Find someone else to bother." He pushed past Bill and headed toward the kitchen.

It would have been too much to expect Bill not to follow him, wouldn't it? "Aw, c'mon, don't be like that! Would it kill you to act like you're happy to see me?"

"Probably."

Bill's laugh made Ford's shoulders raise up around his ears. Maybe that was the source of his neck pain.

Bill shadowed him into the kitchen and leaned on the table, watching while Ford rummaged through the fridge. "But seriously, Sixer—who are you trying to impress by giving me the cold shoulder? I'm the only one here. You could afford to treat me like a person for two minutes." When Ford slammed the fridge door, Bill smacked it with the tip of an 8-ball cane. "Hey, have my food privileges been revoked? Give me a turn."

How long had Bill had a weapon? Ford snatched the cane from him, but opened the fridge and left it. "I don't consider you a person. I consider you an incalculably destructive force of pure, brutal chaos." He cracked three eggs in a skillet and opened a cabinet for one of the stove knobs they kept stored where Bill couldn't reach them.

"Flattering!" Bill started pulling out his usual nauseating array of condiments: today was sauerkraut, maraschino cherries, mustard, ranch dressing, and barbecue sauce. (Why did he eat like that? Did his species usually subsist on a mostly liquid diet? Was it the flavors—?) "Hey, make me mac 'n' cheese, wouldja?"

"No."

"Fine. Leave the burner on when you're done, I'll make it myself."

"You're not allowed to use the stove."

"Then how about I sit here drinking mustard while you enjoy a hot meal." Bill waved three eggs at Ford. "At least make me eggs too. Zero extra effort on your part. I'll even crack them for you if you want."

Ford gave Bill a dark look; but he supposed, as one of the people who had agreed that Bill wasn't allowed to cook, he was in no position to complain about Bill begging him to cook on his behalf. He snatched the eggs out of Bill's hand. "How do you want them."

"I haven't eaten enough chicken eggs to have a preference. Whatever you'll complain least about doing."

Poorly scrambled eggs it was. Ford shut the fridge and returned to the stove.

Bill sat on the table and crossed his legs in lotus position while he waited. "But really, what do you get out of pretending you can't stand me! We both know it's an act."

Ford gave him a tired, sour look. "Even for you, you sound delusional."

"I know you don't really hate me."

"I could write an entire dissertation and earn another Ph.D. on the topic of how much I hate you."

Ford hated how excited Bill looked by that. "Would you?"

"No! Why would I waste that much time thinking about you?"

"It seems to me like you're already doing that."

The hair on the back of Ford's neck prickled. Surely Bill just meant Ford's research into how to kill him; but his mind flashed to the miniature grimoire he'd spent all his time poring over—the blueprints of Bill's childhood home—the face he'd absent-mindedly drawn in his journal in the middle of the night and quickly scribbled out. Could Bill still see through that face? Had Ford remembered to blind Bill's eye on the blueprints? What about the eyes drawn in his human faces? Did Bill know about Ford's other studies? What did it matter—nothing Ford was doing was wrong. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Bill's smile slowly widened. "Sure you don't. You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. You might as well lean into it."

You're using avoiding him as an excuse to obsess over him even more in private. "I am not..." Wasn't he? You're acting like a stalker, Sixer.

"Oh, Fordsy, come on." Bill uncrossed his legs, slid off the table, and was across the room faster than Ford had expected. Ford instinctively took a step back and bumped into the oven; Bill reached past him to lean a hand against the edge of the stove, inches from touching him. "You're not hiding it half as well as you think you are. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" He smirked up at Ford, exposed eye wide and eager, utterly fascinated with him. "And bringing Mabel in on it? I'll have to admit, that surprised me. Can't say I disapprove, though."

Ford couldn't tell if the heat on the back of his neck was from Bill's accusations or the stove. "I beg your pardon?" What was he talking about—their conversation in Portland? The blueprints of Bill's home? (Using his great-niece to spy on Bill, lord, what was Ford doing?)

"Quit messing around! The Mysteries, Stanford. You think I don't know I'm the star of that show?" He poked the center of Ford's chest, "There's no way you joined a cult, you're not enough of a team player! What'd you do? Invent your own cult of one? Mixed a little of what I taught you, a little of whatever you learned out in the multiverse? I know you were asking around about me." Bill chuckled. "You want to keep your little rituals private, fine—I think it's cute, really—just tell me one thing I've been dying to know: how much have you told the kid?"

Ford stared at Bill.

Then he laughed in his face. "You really bought that?"

Bill's smile immediately vanished. "What?"

Ford shoved Bill's hands away. "There are no 'Mysteries.' It was a joke."

Bill stepped back, staring at Ford, brows furrowed. "A...? No," he said. "She's got that glass pyramid—"

"She wanted it because it was pretty," Ford said. "I gave her one since I was throwing them all out."

"That's the stupidest story I've ever heard. Then why would she have brought up the Mysteries!"

"Because," Ford said, "I told her, if you asked about the pyramid, she should make up something to confuse you."

Bill's mouth was open, but no words came out. His face had rapidly turned red. Several emotions flashed across his face in quick succession, from shock to confusion to humiliation to a rage so deep it almost looked like disgust. For a moment, from how Bill's fingers were curling like claws, Ford was sure Bill was about to attack him.

But then he clenched his jaw, backed off, leaned on the table, jammed his fists down against the tabletop, and glared at the floor.

Ford turned back to the stove, grinning to himself. Some of the eggs had burned slightly. Those were Bill's now. "What's the matter? Did you forget that humans can lie?"

Bill didn't reply.

"I'm surprised you didn't expect it. I seem to remember we got you with an impressive whopper last year—"

"Shut up."

"Now you don't want to talk?"

"Now you do?"

Good point; he didn't. If he'd finally rendered Bill speechless, he should enjoy it while he could.

He'd have to thank Mabel later for inventing the Mysteries. Sometimes that girl could be genius.

Ford turned off the burner, put the stove knob away, and dumped the eggs onto two plates. He didn't even bother to keep track of which plate had the burned eggs.

He shot a quick, exasperated look at Bill—he'd sat on top of the table again—and dropped a plate next to him. "Here." He grabbed a bag of bread and looked around for the toaster.

Behind him, voice trembling but low and dangerous, Bill said, "Don't look at me like that."

Ford glanced back warily. "Like what?"

Bill violently shoved off the table. There was an awful squeal of sliding furniture. Before Ford could react, Bill was in his face, grabbing him by his turtleneck, dragging him in, forcing him to look up at Bill.

Ford's peripheral vision was filled with gold. They were so close their noses nearly touched.

"Like you don't remember who I am!" Bill stared down with wide-eyed seething rage. "Your muse!" His voice cracked, "Your god!"

Ford stared up at Bill, speechless.

Then he looked down.

Bill was standing on a chair to make himself taller than Ford.

Ford ripped Bill's hands off his sweater. "You were never, ever my god."

Bill stumbled off the chair, catching himself hard on the edge of the table to keep from falling completely. "That's not true!" He heaved himself back onto his feet with a wince. "You worshiped me—"

"I admired you!" Ford jabbed a finger at Bill's chest. "I respected you! I—I even idolized you, but I never worshiped you!"

Bill jabbed a finger back, "You're splitting hairs! You practically turned your study into a temple to me—tapestries, rugs, statues—"

"Because you said it would help me reach you!"

"And it did! That's what shrines are for, genius!"

"It wasn't a shrine! Not to me."

"You're kidding me! All the money you dropped on that gold-plated statue and you expect me to believe that wasn't an act of worship—"

"Do not. Remind me. How much. That stupid statue cost."

"If you didn't build a shrine for worship then what in the world did you build it for!"

"Friendship!" Ford took a shaky breath in. "I thought... I honestly thought you—you—were my best friend." The air in the room trembled with heat. They were standing too close to each other. Ford refused to be the one to back up.

"I was," Bill said. "I still could be if you'd stop being a moron."

Ford laughed in disbelief. "Which is it, were you my god or my friend?!"

"They're not mutually exclusive—!"

"You can't keep your story straight for THIRTY SECONDS!"

"Don't you call me a LIAR, after EVERYTHING I taught you—!"

"In all the years I've known you I don't think you've told me the truth ONCE—!"

Stan flipped on the lights.

They froze and stared at him. They had their hands around each other's throats. Bill had a foot planted on Ford's stomach like he was trying to get a foothold to climb him. They were both covered in egg.

Stan said, "Could you do this in the morning?"

Ford said, "Sure."

Bill said, "He started it."

"I st—?! You started all of this thirty years ago—"

"Guys," Stan said tiredly.

With some effort, Ford unpeeled his hands from Bill's neck.

To his surprise, Bill voluntarily let go as well. Ford snatched up what was left of his plate of eggs, took the loaf of bread—he had lighters, he could toast it downstairs—and left the kitchen, turning the light off as he went.

Stan was waiting out in the entryway. "Heading to bed?"

"No." Ford shoveled a forkful of eggs in his mouth. "Going to be up late." He was too angry to sleep. He could eat, take a painkiller for his headache, and keep working.

"More research?"

"No. Calculations."

Stan's shoulders slumped; but all he said was, "Suit yourself. Don't stay up too late."

Ford glanced back once into the kitchen. Bill wasn't moving. He sat slumped in a chair, elbows on his knees. He'd pulled on his hood. Its eye stared at Ford.

Ford wasn't about to pity Bill over a performative display of angst. He'd fallen for that already.

He returned to his study and mathematics.

####

Bill stared at his plate of eggs. He mechanically pushed them around on the plate until they formed a perfect equilateral triangle. He scooped out an empty white eye in the middle.

He stood, snatched up the plate, and smashed it on the floor.

They thought he was stupid. They thought he couldn't use a stove if it didn't have knobs, as if he was a child! The humans made it easy for themselves to think of him as a child when they treated him like one, "baby-proof the doors" and "no sharp objects" and "don't talk to strangers." He could show them.

He grabbed the stem where one of the knobs had been removed, and twisted. He heard the hiss of gas under the burner. Everyone was asleep. He could fill the house with gas. It would only take a little push to make a spark and set the entire shack ablaze. In the dark room, he could see the first glimpse of future flames flickering yellow-orange in the periphery of his foresight. No one would survive. Who's your god now, smart guy? He'd rise like a phoenix from his own corpse and he'd tear this town apart.

Where was Mabel?

Was she home tonight?

Bill turned off the gas.

He pushed up his sleeve and pressed the fleshy part of his forearm onto the still-hot burner. The pain burned away his jumbled anger so he could think clearly.

Who cared how the nutty sculptors had gotten Bill's address? He was making good progress on lucid dreaming; maybe he'd astral projected across the country to call for help and forgotten it when he woke up. He'd probably saved himself without even remembering it. It didn't matter. The important thing was that they'd received the message; and now, Bill had friends on the outside. Friends who were on his side.

If he could ever contact them again.

Bill would find a way. He didn't need Ford's help. "Never worshiped you." Ha.

He needed fresh air. Even if it wasn't safe to escape yet, he needed to breathe. He carried himself backward through doorway into the gift shop, pulled aside the curtain hiding the ladder to the roof—

The trap door was shut. He stared up in despair.

He shot a glare toward the vending machine, and angrily crossed back into the living room.

The air was so stuffy inside the shack. "Never worshiped you." Liar. If it wasn't worship then what was it?

Bill took himself upstairs. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He lay on his makeshift bed curled up around himself, arms wrapped tight across his stomach, his burn pressed hard against a layer of knit yarn, thighs pulled up against his arms. It was a wholly alien position. It felt unnatural and bizarre. This body had curled like this of its own volition. It seemed like the only thing that briefly smothered the ache of emptiness and the hormonal inferno screaming loneliness through every vein. The loneliness wasn't his. He wasn't lonely. This body was.

Cipher, my lord.

He hated this body.

He ached to be revered again.

####

It was two in the morning. Ford sat at his desk, pages and pages of math scattered before him, glasses off, hand rubbing his eyes.

He didn't want to be checking a mountain of math like a human calculator. He wanted to be studying strange magic and researching new anomalies. He wanted to be digging through Bill's grimoire.

He wanted to be awed again.

####

(I've been waiting to write/draw Bill screaming his grief over not being worshiped since literally April. I hope y'all enjoyed! This is one of my favorite chapters so far, I'd love to hear what y'all think!!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(*immediately edits post because i forgot the brick pattern on Bill's hoodie*)

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holybibly · 2 months

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i know i’ve seen one like this out there but like sports players ateez… just holy 🙃

like can you imagine what it’d be like to be a cheerleader (literally) and then finding out they’ve been perving over you in your uniform and they decide that they have to have you and slowly one by one they add themselves into your little reverse harem … MM!

I LOVE harems, and I have no shame about it. I hate to have to make choices when I can have it all.

You just piss them off—literally everything about you, from that extra-short puffy skirt and that cute tight top to those damn pom-poms and those stupid ponytails with the pink ribbons on them. You're so cheeky and proud that you don't even look in their direction.

You don't admire them, and don't drool all over the floor. You don't put your wet knickers in their lockers or send them naked pictures. These facts literally scratch them from the inside out. The burning hatred eats away at their brains. Who do you think you are? They're a bloody star football team—titled, rich, and sexy. And you—you're just a pathetic bouncing girl, and they won't talk about how much they stare at your tits when you do jumping jacks.

This whole nonsense is Hongjoog's fault. It was his idea to drag you into the shower after the match, and Woosan evil accomplices just added fuel to the fire. But you gave them hell. You nearly ripped out Hongjoong's beautiful cat eyes, you kicked and bit them, making them look like they survived a fight with a wildcat.

God, all that fire in your little body set them off in such a way that from that moment on, well, nothing went as planned.

You were terribly annoying; that's what Yeosang told himself as he pinned you against the shelves in a corner of the library. He didn't like girls like that—so loud and so rude. That's what he told himself over and over again as he feverishly tore off your shirt and kissed everything he could get his hands on. He just wanted to get a taste of it. Just a taste. He said to himself pushing his fingers into your pussy.

All those little skirts and cute little bows-you're definitely an attention whore. You just begged to be fucked.

And Wooyoung was driven mad by the fact that it was never him who did it. All your smiles, all your sweet words, all your sultry looks - you gave them to everyone, but never to him. And it fucking irritated him. It annoyed him so much that one day he just grabbed you in class, bent you over the table and spanked your juicy, perfect bottom until it was red and covered in his handprints. Of course, he took your knickers with him.

You were such an arrogant, bloody teacher's pet, and God, Seonghwa just wanted to shut your smart mouth with his fat cock, which is pretty much what he did. It was amazing to see you kneeling as he fucked you in the mouth. He was holding your head in place as he slid his big cock over your tongue, pushing it deeper and deeper until the head hit the back of your throat and you were choking on it. God, it was exactly what he'd had in his mind all the time. And he wanted more of it.

Mean, aren't you? You're so damn mean that everything about you sets Jongho's cold, collected temper on fire.

Bad girls have to be punished. They're taught to obey by having their cute skirts pulled up and their slutty wet cunt spanked until they learn to behave. And he teaches you that lesson by pinning you to the dressing room bench with one hand while he mercilessly spanks your pussy with the other. He will do this until you're squeal and squirm, begging him to stop, or do you just want more?

"I'm gonna fuck you, baby. You are going to beg for my cock until you start to sob. You know how to beg, don't you, or is that mouth just for cock sucking? If so, you can put that pretty tongue around mine immediately. Mingi used to love to tease you by whispering the dirtiest and most horrible things in your ear during the lessons. You used to blush so beautifully, and he couldn't help but wonder if your pussy was as beautifully pink as your chubby cheeks.

San didn't love you. Absolutely not. And he told himself that over and over again, as his tongue slowly fucked your sweet cunt and his strong hands held your hips in a dead grip. He was angry, not at all jealous that you were paying attention to some dickhead guy. And he just needed a bit of relaxation before he broke the bastard's jaw, and you were just about perfect for the release. It's not jealousy, San assured himself. His mouth pressed greedily against your damn tasty pussy. Not jealousy at all.

You were so tiny, so fragile. And Yunho just wanted to destroy you. And your bloody temper didn't help. You looked so beautiful as he stretched you with his fingers. You had orgasm after orgasm, so many that the stimulation was painful. Your juices were all over the place, you were squrting so hard that your whole body was shaking from the overwhelming power of the orgasm. Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your eyes rolled back in your head. But that was just training before he fucked you hard, dumb and drooling. And as captain of the cheerleading squad, you knew very well that the only way to get the perfect result was to practice endlessly.

You were on his mind all the time. He thought about you all the time, and it was driving him crazy. Why don't you look at him? Why aren't you crawling at his feet, where your place is? When you could be sucking his dick or moaning his name, why do you spend all your fucking time talking and being rude? Hongjoong couldn't stop asking himself the same questions. You had wrapped him around your finger faster than he was able to comprehend and you had him in a choke hold. He hated you with the same passion as he wanted to fuck you. And God, he was going to do it. Left alone after his next win, he couldn't control himself and as a result you're on all fours with his dick deep inside you. He fucked you mercilessly and hard. Every thrust of his hips was filled with hatred for the stupid feeling of love he felt for you. You were like a drug to him. Hongjoong never wanted to stop experiencing this ecstasy.

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breanime · 2 years

Note

Let's say, Aemond is seeing Reader for the first time and can't help what he is feeling...lust.

When his mother invited your family to King's Landing, Aemond was less than interested. He was preoccupied with his studies and training, he had no use for frivolous ladies flouncing about the court. When your family arrived, his mother greeted them personally, accompanied by his sister--who was eager to have another young woman about the castle--and Ser Criston Cole.

Aemond, however, was locked away in the library, studying the history of the Red Keep.

Still, he couldn't avoid socializing with you and your people for long. And he wasn't that hard to find.

"You should see the Lady Y/N," Aegon swaggered into the library, clearly drunk in the middle of the day, "She's a sight," he paused when Aemond fixed his with his cold, one-eyed stare, "I meant nothing by the phrase," Aegon said weakly.

"Mm," Aemond went back to his books, "What do you want, Aegon? I'm busy."

His brother laughed, "Our presence has been requested. Mother wants us to formally introduce ourselves to Lady Y/N," he leaned forward, swaying a bit on his drunken feet, lowering his voice dramatically, "It seems my insufferable wife has asked her to stay in King's Landing as her companion, and her father has agreed."

Choosing to ignore the comment about their sister, Aemond sighed, finally standing up, "You know you are not to touch this girl," Aemond said, looking over at his older brother, "She is highborn, it would bring shame upon our house."

Aegon rolled his eyes, "Don't be boring, brother," he grinned as the two walked through the vast halls of the castle, "I won't do a thing to the girl... until she's wet and begging for it."

"Such talk is unbecoming of a prince," Aemond said back, not looking at his brother.

Aegon scoffed, but straightened up when they turned the final corner where Alicent was standing with Helaena and you, chatting about the changing seasons.

And that was when Aemond saw you.

It felt like all of the air had been stolen from his lungs. Never before had Aemond felt such a tingle, such a heat go through him. Such--

--desire.

You were more than just a "sight". You were a goddess, an angel, a temptress, a dream. Aemond barely even registered his mother introducing them, Aegon as the elder, and then presenting Aemond. You were his singular focus, and he stared at you, his one eye drinking you in, starting from your feet, up your enticing body, all the way to your perfect face. He had grown quite skilled at overcompensating for his lack of vision, he noticed things much faster than the average person, took in details and memorized them perfectly because if he did not, he would be at a disadvantage. Now, he was grateful for his hypervision, grateful that it allowed him to truly see you. He could feel his lips curl upwards without his permission, but Gods, he couldn't help it. You looked so...

...delicious.

"Pleased to meet you, Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond," you gave a perfect curtesy, and Aemond thought you'd make a lovely wife. The thought surprised him--not since he was a boy had he thought of marriage as anything more than a duty he would one day have to perform. But now, he was imagining you on his arm, and he liked the image that was swimming in his head.

"You will, of course, treat the Lady Y/N with the utmost respect," Alicent said, a smile on her face but eyes hard as she stared over at Aegon, "She is our respected guest."

"A dragon protects what is his," Helaena whispered, smiling as she played with her fingers, "and what is his knows that it belongs to a dragon."

Aemond tore his eye from you to look at his sister, she looked up and gave him a smile. When he looked back at you, you were smiling as well.

"I have heard much of your love of books, Prince Aemond. I am quite fond of reading as well," you said, and Aemond wanted to drown in the sweet tones of your voice, "Perhaps you could recommend a good book for me to read during my stay here."

Aemond felt his heart quicken in his chest, and if it weren't for his mother and siblings being present, he would have marched over and touched you.

Gods, he wanted to touch you.

Instead, he stared over at you, wondering about the softness of your plump lips. "I would much like that, my lady," he said back.

Alicent tore her eyes from Aegon to look at her son. His eye was blown wide, and he had a strange look on his face, an expression she hadn't seen before on him. It almost reminded her of Aegon, but there was no malice behind Aemond's gaze, the way he stared at you. There was interest, curiosity, and Gods help her--lust.

She watched, frozen, as Aemond slowly walked over to you, and she noted the careful tension in his body, like he holding himself back, keeping himself in control.

And you... Alicent could see now the way you lit up when Aemond had walked in, how your focus was singularly on him, and his was on you, Aegon and Helaena had fallen into the background. All there was were the two of you. Even now, as you threw pretty smiles at her favorite son, she could see a smile growing on his lips--a rare sight.

Helaena stood at her mother's side, and her light, airy voice filled the Queen's ear as she spoke, "A dragon protects what is his," Helaena said again, "and what is his knows that it belongs to a dragon."

Alicent took a deep breath. What is his. She put a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "Thank you, my dearest." Alicent turned, "Ser Criston."

The knight appeared at her side in seconds. Alicent did not take her eyes off of you and Aemond. Never before had she seen her son so animated, so singularly focused on something that wasn't his dragon or sword. "Ser Criston," Alicent said, keeping her voice low, "I want you to ensure that Aemond stays in his quarters tonight."

"My Queen?" Criston turned to her, confusion in his dark eyes. Of the three of her children, Aemond had never been a flight risk.

"I will not have my son give in to base desires," she said, inclining her chin towards you and Aemond.

Criston followed her gaze and saw the way the young prince was looking at you, the way his eye traveled up and down your frame, the tightness of his stance, as if he was fighting to keep himself from touching you. He nodded, "I understand."

"Good," she took in a breath, watching the way her son stood close to you, as if drawn into your space, "Both of their virtues must remain unquestionable...

...I intend to make a match of them."

***********************************************************************

Ok, so that was my first time writing Aemond, so pleaaaaase let me know what you think. He's my current obsession, so I am def open to writing him more if anyone is interested in reading it.

Gif drabble requests are closed for every character except Aemond, so if you'd like to send in a gif of him for me to do a drabble about, feel free!

Thank you for reading!

PART TWO

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond one eye #bre does gif drabbles (again)!#hotd #house of the dragon

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dreamwritesimagines · 10 months

Text

Garden of Secrets [30] - Lunaria

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: After arguments comes sincerity.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of trauma and violence, angst.

Word Count: 5000

Series Masterlist

Any married couple would tell you that fights were normal in a marriage.

You knew that, but this whole silence was beginning to feel more and more like the end of the said marriage.

You and Benedict hadn’t talked to each other since the night of the dinner party at Lady Margery’s house, and you and Benedict were getting quite good at sharing the house without even talking about it. You wouldn’t have known he was actually staying in the house if you hadn’t paid attention to the occasional sounds of door closing and the footsteps.

You didn’t know when you had learned to recognize him from his footsteps alone, but apparently it had happened somewhere along the line.

You knew Benedict had left an hour ago because you had seen him pass through the garden from the window of the library. You had been so immersed in your book that you didn’t even notice the familiar carriage pulling in front of the house until you heard Teddy’s voice ringing through the hallway.

“Y/N?”

You turned your head and put your book down, then rushed out of the library to go downstairs.

“Teddy?” you asked as he ran to you, clutching a couple of flowers in his arms and you let out a laugh, then hugged him.

“Hello there,” you said and smiled at your aunt as you saw her at the end of the hallway. “And hello auntie.”

“Hello my dearest,” she said, coming to kiss your cheek. “We figured we could pay you a quick visit on our way to the pastry shop.”

“I’m glad you did,” you said and took the flowers from Teddy. “These are beautiful Teddy, thank you!”

“They’re from your garden,” he said helpfully and you nodded your head.

“Mm hm, I recognized them,” you said and held his hand so that you all could go to the drawing room. “Pastry shop then?”

“Yes and then we will go to the park,” your aunt said. “So that I can meet my friends and Teddy can play with his friends.”

“The weather is pretty nice,” you mused and turned to your maid. “Paula, could you bring some lemonade and biscuits please? Thank you.”

“Of course ma’am,” she said and left the room, and you hugged Teddy sideways as he sat beside you.

“How is uncle?” you asked your aunt and she heaved a sigh.

“He is alright.”

“Any um…” you trailed off and stole a look at Teddy before clearing your throat. “Any letters?”

“None,” she said with a smile. “I told you, there’s no need to be worried.”

“Seems to be engraved in me by now.”

A maid walked in, carrying a tray and made her way to you to place three glasses of lemonade as well as three plates of biscuits on the coffee table. You thanked her as Teddy grabbed his glass, then took a huge sip.

“Is Benedict home?” he looked up at you and you heaved a sigh, then shook your head.

“No my sweet, he left an hour ago.”

“When can I make more sculptures?” he asked and you tried to smile.

“Whenever you want,” you said. “Is it alright if I help you though?”

“Not Benedict?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly. “But he knows so much about art.”

You nodded your head.

“Benedict has been working on a new painting lately,” you whispered as if giving him a secret. “He’s a bit busy but we can do it together?”

He thought for a moment, then his head whipped up.

“I could teach you!” he said as if the thought just hit him and you let out a laugh.

“Exactly!” you said, “It would be fun!”

“Benedict is working on a new painting?” your aunt asked and you looked up at her, then nodded your head.

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s been…he’s been busy.”

She raised her brows, her eyes searching your face as if she wanted to see whether you were telling the truth but the gong of the clock on the wall made her turn her head.

“Oh I’m going to be late,” she said and got up from her chair with you following her suit. “We’d better go, come on Teddy.”

“Alright,” Teddy pushed the biscuit into his mouth, making you bite down a smile and he came to hug you.

“I’ll see you later,” you said, pressing a kiss on top of his head before you hugged your aunt. She hugged you back, then pulled back to look at you better.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Your stomach did a painful flip but you managed to offer her a small smile.

“Of course,” you assured her. “I’m fine.”

She heaved a sigh and kissed your cheek.

“We’re having tea as soon as possible.”

“Works for me,” you said and watched her and Teddy walk out of the drawing room to make their way downstairs. Your smile dropped and you let out a breath, then sat back down on the sofa again.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself. “Today should be fun.”

Towards the afternoon, Lottie had sent you a note, asking you to join her for a picnic but you had written back, saying you weren’t feeling your best. It wasn’t a lie at all, you really didn’t want to see anyone, instead all you wanted was just burying yourself into the covers and ignore the outside world.

But apparently you wouldn’t be so lucky.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the approaching footsteps while you laid on the sofa, your gaze fixed on the fireplace until someone cleared their throat by the door, making your head whip up.

“Josie?” you asked and pushed yourself up off the sofa to stand up. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see how you were, obviously,” she said and entered the drawing room. “Not well as I can tell.”

You rolled your eyes. “Did auntie talk to you?”

“No, why?” she asked. “Should she have?”

“No, it’s just—” you motioned vaguely at outside. “She came by for a visit today with Teddy.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” you said. “She seemed worried about me for some reason.”

“Could the reason be that you were staring into nothing like a corpse by any chance?” she asked you and you shot her a look.

“I was just in deep thought, don’t dramatize it.”

She frowned slightly, then shook her head.

“Anyway,” she said and went to the armchair to sit down. “Has there been any other letters sent from hell and its biggest demon?”

“Auntie says no,” you muttered, pressing your palms into your eyes before lowering your hands. “But I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to uncle to make sure.”

Josie hummed.

“What about you?” you asked. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” she said without so much as any hesitation and you tilted your head.

“Josie.”

“What?”

“Come on,” you said. “Don’t do that to me at the very least.”

“I really am fine,” she said. “I’m married now, he cannot do anything to me. The days he would threaten to either sell me to a brothel or send me to the madhouse are gone.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “But if they speak to anyone—”

“Andrew is a respected lord who inherited his respectful father’s title and wealth,” she said. “Father is a no one. There’s nothing he could say that the ton would believe over our word.”

You started pacing in the room.

“I suppose,” you said. “But even if they do come here, we’re not telling Teddy.”

Josie shook her head fervently. “Of course not. He will not know or talk to them.”

You could feel the tension coming back to your muscles as the throbbing in your wrist returned, and you rubbed at it, gritting your teeth.

“Why doesn’t he just die?” you spat. “He was coughing like crazy when uncle took me and Teddy in years ago, he spends most of his days drunk, why doesn’t it just get to him already?”

“Trust me, I’m looking forward to that day,” Josie said. “I’ll celebrate it.”

“If he so much as tries to get Teddy like he said in that letter—”

“He’s not going to do that,” Josie said. “None of us will let him.”

You massaged your temples and huffed out a breath.

“What did Benedict say?” she asked you and you turned to look at her, then pursed your lips.

“That’s not important right now.”

Josie sat up straighter.

“What?” she asked. “Wait Y/N you have told him, haven’t you?”

“No because I don’t need to,” you said. “I can handle it if they come here.”

Josie gawked at you in complete silence, then a dry laughter spilled from her lips.

“You’re jesting,” she said. “Surely you are jesting.”

“Why would I tell him?”

“Why would you not tell him?” she hissed at you, jumping on her feet. “What are you going to do if father decides to come here? And the staff hasn’t been told—”

“I’ll tell them.”

“And if he walks up to Benedict on the street?”

“I doubt father even knows I’m married,” you said. “There’s no reason for Benedict to—”

“There’s every reason for him to know!” she said. “If you don’t want to give him the details, fine! But you need to tell him especially if they decide to come here, you know what father is like—”

“I can handle father.”

Josie threw her hands up in exasperation. “Have you gone insane?!”

“I don’t need Benedict’s help,” you said tersely, shrugging your shoulders and Josie heaved an impatient sigh.

“If you’re doing this because you two had a small lover’s spat…”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Josie.”

“You had a fight, is that it?”

“That’s not important.”

“It is important if you’re going to make stupid choices because of it!” she snapped. “If it were any other time, you know I wouldn’t push you to do anything but if mother and father are in fact coming here, you’re going to need all the support you can get.”

You scoffed. “Sure, let me just go and cry to Benedict because what? Father is coming here?”

Josie raised her brows. “How’s your wrist?”

The anger rushed through you so fast that you didn’t even have the chance to remind yourself it wasn’t Josie you were angry at, just the memory itself and how it managed to make you feel helpless every single time.

Not to mention, your and Josie’s fights would always be fiery, ever since you two were little.

“Fuck you, I’m not going to listen to this,” you growled and Josie’s gaze turned into a glare as you walked past her toward the door.

“No?” she asked, making you whirl around on your heels before you got to the door. “If you don’t want people to ask you questions, maybe don’t act like a little girl throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not!”

“By keeping the one person who you’re actually close to in the dark?” she snapped back. “The one person who can actually protect you as far as the ton and the law are concerned? For God’s sake, you’re married—”

“It’s a sham, Josie!” the words left your lips before you had the chance to stop them. “Wake up, will you? It’s a sham, it’s not real! None of this is!”

That got her to stop talking and if you weren’t so exhausted by the nervousness and anger rushing through you for days now, you would have stopped talking as well but you were nearly hysterical at this point.

“We’re not in love,” you said, breathing fast. “The only reason why we got married is because people saw us together, alright? He knows it, I know it, even goddamn Anthony knows it! And everyone around us is so gullible that they believed we were in love because what? We pretended to be just to spare their feelings? Honestly Josie, I’d expect you of all people to be smarter than that—”

“What?”

The different voice that reached into the room came from behind you from the door and you turned around to see Lottie staring at you in shock. Your breath got caught in your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“Lottie…”

“Your butler let me in, I wanted to see if you were alright after your note but—I—” she stammered, tears rushing to her eyes. “You both…you all lied to me? All this time?”

“No,” you said quickly. “No it’s just complicated, I didn’t mean—”

“Excuse me,” she said and turned around to rush downstairs, a curse leaving your lips before you rushed after her.

“Lottie- Charlotte!” you called out as she stepped outside with you following her. “Please, can we just talk?”

“That rumor Lady Whistledown mentioned,” she said, turning to look at you better. “That was true?”

You ran a hand over your face. “It’s not exactly—”

“Y/N,” she insisted and you heaved a sigh.

“Things between me and Benedict are complicated.”

“But you didn’t get married because of love?” she asked. “You got married because someone saw you two together, unchaperoned?”

You paused for a moment and she raised her brows.

“Y/N?”

“…You could say that,” you admitted after a beat and shook your head. “I know how it sounds, but we didn’t want to upset you—”

“Thank you so much for that,” she said with a sad laugh and you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Lottie…” you said, following her as she walked to her carriage. “I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

She looked at you for a moment, then swallowed thickly.

“I’d say you didn’t want me to find out in any way,” she muttered and got in the carriage before you could say anything else, then the coachman drove away, leaving you there.

You groaned, that heaviness in your heart getting even worse as you watched her carriage disappear into the road and dug your fingernails into your palms before you looked up at the sky and let out a scream, the birds in the nearest tree flying away. You huffed out a breath, then turned around to see Josie leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, and her brows raised.

“I’m glad you got it off your chest I guess,” she said. “Now, want to tell me what the fuck that was about?”

It took you almost an hour to fill her in on the details of everything that had happened. Even if you still felt incredibly bad for how Lottie had found out, -and how you had kept it from Josie- it still felt sort of relieving to actually share it with someone. Josie sat beside you on the stairs that whole time and it was only when you had finished telling her everything that she heaved a deep sigh, leaning back on her elbows.

“Fuck.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “Sounds about right.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You scoffed a laugh. “Look me in the eye and tell me you would have let me marry him if you knew why that wedding was happening.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have let you!” she said. “That’s exactly why you should have told me!”

“And then?” you asked. “You know how the ton would have been like.”

“Who cares about those idiots?”

“A scandal would have affected uncle and auntie as well, Josie.”

“Scandal or not, I think uncle and auntie would want you to be happy.”

“I am—it’s not…” you massaged your temples for what felt like the hundredth time today. “It’s complicated.”

“It really isn’t,” she said. “If he forced your hand—”

“He didn’t force my hand,” you cut her off. “No more than I forced his hand at least. I wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss me…It’s only because people saw us together that it got to this.”

“And you’re sure he didn’t plan this?”

“I know he didn’t,” you said. “Trust me, I’d love to be able to blame someone but Benedict is not to blame.”

“Neither are you.”

You clicked your tongue.

“I don’t know about that,” you said. “I could’ve walked away.”

“So could he,” she said and you heaved a sigh, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you repeated, running a hand over your face. “God, it feels like I haven’t slept in years.”

Josie bit at her lip, deep in thought before she turned to you.

“Clover?”

“Hm?”

“Technically speaking, this marriage is invalid,” she said. “No consummation.”

“So?”

“Would he apply for an annulment?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach but you frowned, shaking your head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Would you?”

“I’m not going to apply for annulment,” you brushed her off and she sat up straighter.

“Then we could leave whenever you want, you can come with me and Andrew and Bess—”

“I’m not going to do that Josie,” you said and she scoffed a laugh.

“Why not?” she asked. “If you’re worried about a scandal…”

“That’s not why,” you told her. “Not really.”

“Does it have something to do with the fact that you kissed him?” she asked and you shot her a look.

“Don’t,” you said. “Seriously. It was just desire and I’m pretty sure anything he may have felt for me is long gone after that fight.”

“And yet you want to stay for some reason because you want to make yourself suffer?”

You heaved a sigh.

“No I—I’ll think about it,” you lied to her. “After this whole mess is over.”

“Alright,” she said and stood up. “I’d better go but are you going to be okay?”

“Sure thing,” you said, waving a hand in the air before standing up as well. She pulled you into a hug, then kissed your cheek.

“I’ll kill you if you hide things from me again,” she said, drawing a chuckle out of you before she walked to get in the carriage. You lingered there for a moment as the carriage drove away and you shook your head slightly, then walked back into the house.

You were still so tense that you couldn’t even bring yourself to have dinner even if you would be all by yourself. Benedict was still outside, so even though you knew there was no way you could get a wink of sleep, you still went to your bedroom. The sky was dark already, your room only illuminated by the moonlight and the flames in the fireplace. You took out the pins in your hair, then massaged your scalp and heaved a sigh before putting the flowers Teddy and your aunt had brought you on the windowsill so that you could air dry them, but as soon as you did, the carriage by the stone road caught your attention, making you frown.

Ah.

That had to be Benedict.

You had just placed all of the flowers when the knock on the door reached you and you looked over your shoulder.

“Come in?”

Benedict opened the door and stepped inside, and you frowned at just how rigid his whole body looked.

“Can we talk?”

“About?” you asked and he took a deep breath as if reminding himself to be calm.

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“You might want to—” you started but then the idea hit you, making you stop for a moment. “Ah. Lottie?”

“Yeah,” he said. “So did you?”

You gawked at him and scoffed a bitter chuckle. “Why would I do it on purpose, exactly?”

“Because you’re angry at me for some reason?”

You could feel the anger rushing through your system so you gritted your teeth.

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I don’t go behind people’s backs when I’m angry at them.”

He raised his brows, disbelief etched in his features.

“Sure,” he said. “So it was what, a coincidence?”

“Well you seem to have all the answers,” you bit back. “I’m sure you can answer that on your own as well.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Why would you tell Charlie that?” he insisted. “She’s angry at me and Anthony because apparently you decided to tell her he knew as well.”

“Oh well that’s devastating,” you deadpanned. “Because I spend all my days trying to make sure everything I do makes Anthony’s life easier—obviously I didn’t know she was here! She’s angry at me too, or has it escaped your notice?”

“Then how did she—”

“Because she was apparently there when I told Josie, but I didn’t know.”

Benedict stared at you. “Wait, Josie knows as well?”

“Lapse in judgement, we were having an argument,” you said and Benedict blinked a couple of times.

“Y/N, I thought we agreed we would keep it to ourselves,” he said. “We told everyone—”

“I have more to lose than you if it gets out, Benedict!” you snapped. “You don’t have to remind me what I already know!”

He took a deep breath as if reminding himself to be calm.

“We’re married,” he said, motioning between you two. “We need to be on the same page on things like these.”

“Oh now you remember we’re married?” you asked with a bitter laugh. “You can act like a bachelor and spend a whole night partying and doing God knows what without so much as letting me know—”

“I did let you know!”

Your voice rose before you had a chance to stop it; “Oh sorry, how nice of you to invite me to the party as a second thought!”

“I already told you nothing happened!”

“That’s not the point!” you snapped back, “The point is that you told me we would talk and we didn’t because you were too busy having fun at a party!”

Benedict shook his head. “You told me it wasn’t important!”

“Because you—” you started but your body automatically flinched back when Benedict’s hand shot up to run it through his hair, a gesture you had seen him do over and over again but in the heat of the argument, it was enough to make the rest of your sentence get lost in your throat.

Benedict’s hand froze in the air as the sudden panic rushed through your veins, the flash of various memories shooting through your head but even through the haze of absolute fear, in some corner of your mind you knew.

That was then, not now.

That was not going to happen again, not with him.

Benedict stared at you before he held up his palms, all the fire of the fight and anger gone from his gaze.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice so gentle and soothing that your throat tightened. “I promise you.”

You blinked back the tears and nodded. “I know.”

“I would never—”

“Benedict, I know,” you cut him off and let out a bitter chuckle. “I believe in you on that at the very least, trust me. It just used to happen a lot whenever anyone moved too fast around me, it’s involuntary.”

Benedict swallowed thickly, his eyes searching your face before he very slowly lowered his hands as if trying not to make any sudden moves. The panic retrieved from your body like a wave at the shore and you heaved a sigh, then leaned back to the wall before slipping down to sit on the floor.

“I can leave you be if you’d like,” Benedict said softly. “Do you want me to go?”

You scoffed a dry laugh and patted the spot next to you. Benedict lingered there for a moment, then made his way to you to sit down on the floor beside you, leaning his back to the wall while you pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them.

“But you…” he paused for a moment. “You know I would never, right? Really?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I know. I don’t know how, but I know.”

“Okay.”

You stared at the moonlight spilling over both of you through the window before you ran a hand over your face.

“Benedict?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to get an annulment?”

That made him turn to look at you better, his brows furrowing as you shrugged.

“Technically speaking, this marriage is invalid,” you quoted Josie. “We never consummated, so…We could get an annulment.”

He stared at you. “Do you want to get an annulment?”

“I asked first.”

If it were any other time, it would have made him smile at the very least but not this time.

“No,” he said. “But I won’t force you, I’ll never force you into anything so…Do you want one?”

You shook your head.

“No,” you admitted. “No I don’t.”

A silence fell upon you and he leaned his head back to rest it against the wall before stealing a look at you.

“So this is marriage huh?” he asked and you felt a sad smile curl your lips.

“Yeah,” you said. “A never-ending emotional torture.”

“Well you did warn me, so…” Benedict mused and you nodded your head.

“I really did,” you murmured, twisting your wedding ring around your finger. “Jesus I’m exhausted.”

A bitter chuckle climbed up his throat.

“I know the feeling,” he rasped out. “Can you um—can you sleep at night? Because I can’t.”

“Not at all,” you said. “And I can’t really focus on anything. Can you?”

“I need to,” he said. “I need to be focused on something all the time, otherwise…”

“What?” you asked after a beat and Benedict shook his head.

“It’ll catch up to me otherwise.”

He didn’t need to specify what it was, you knew it very well because it was the same thing that had been twisting your heart for the last two weeks.

The wave of pain that was so strong that if it managed to get to you, you weren’t sure you’d be able to stand.

“It’ll turn into hate one day,” you said, your voice determined as you nodded your head to yourself. “It will. It’s a marriage, it has to turn into resentment and one day we will wake up and we’ll hate each other.”

He tilted his head. “Do you really believe that?”

“I want to believe that,” you said. “I hope it does turn into hate, I’m better at it.”

“Dear God, it would be so much easier,” he murmured and you nodded.

“Exactly,” you croaked out as the burning in your eyes came back but you bit at your tongue, fixing your gaze on the wall.

“Can I ask you something?” Benedict asked and you glanced at him.

“Sure.”

“I’ve always wondered if you…” he trailed off. “Do you regret it? That night at the gazebo?”

“Do you?”

“I asked first,” he quoted you, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips and you smiled back, then shook your head.

“No,” you said. “Do you?”

“Not a single second of it,” he stated and a nearly hysterical giggle escaped from your lips.

“You know, Lord Easton said something the other night,” you said and sniffled. “And I have a theory about this whole thing.”

“I’m listening.”

“Call it artist and muse, call it desire, whatever it is,” you said. “I’m beginning to think maybe it was fate.”

“You don’t believe in fate,” he said and you thought for a moment, then shook your head.

“Well, I don’t but think about it,” you said, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand, then turned sideways to see him better. “We kept tempting fate even if we knew we weren’t supposed to and—be completely honest with me, can you imagine yourself being married to someone else?”

He grimaced. “Not without a shudder and a nightmare to go with that idea.”

“Exactly,” you insisted. “Even after everything. So we’re—we’re not star-crossed, we’re not each other’s promised but maybe we’re something else completely different than all that.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe we’re just doomed to torment each other.”

He blinked a couple of times as if trying to wrap his mind around it and you sniffled again.

“Does it not make sense?” you asked, sitting up straighter, your eyes locked in his. “Neither of us regret that night even if it would make perfect sense if we did, both of us could walk away right now, a luxury no other couple in the ton has, and yet…”

“Yet here we are.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Yet here we are. Doomed to torment each other, in this life and beyond.”

He hummed. “That’s a relieving thought.”

You turned to shoot him a look of disbelief. “The idea of being tormented is relieving?”

“Compared to the idea of not having you?” he asked. “It is. I can take the torment from you, just not…just not your absence.”

A silence fell upon the room and you rubbed at your eyes, then dropped your hands to your lap.

“Well then I shall haunt you,” you managed to say. “Even after death, like in those awful stories. If we are to torment each other, we will not be free of each other. Dead or not, no absence.”

A sad smile crossed Benedict’s lips and he held up his pinky.

“Do you promise?” he asked and a teary laugh climbed up your throat, then you looked up at him.

“What?”

“Do you promise to haunt me?”

You blinked back the tears before they could blur your vision, then stuck your nose in the air.

“Do you promise to haunt me back?”

Benedict tilted his head. “Do you want me to?”

“I do,” you said without any hesitation and hooked your pinky with his. “Whoever goes first will haunt the other. Deal?”

There was no sign of hesitance in his eyes, only determination as he smiled slightly, making your heart skip a beat.

“Deal.”

Chapter 31

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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bywons · 3 months

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୨୧ STRAWBERRIES WITH CHOCOLATE— y. jungwon

pairing. yang jungwon x f!reader w.c. 0.5k tw/cw. not proofread mentions of food, blood(to describe blushing), kissing, tell me if i missed out smnthg! genre. college au, non idol au

sru's note! oh my gah writing after a long time, so excuse me if it's bad :( reblogs are appreciated!

m.list ⏐ requests are open! ⏐ navi

The library was rather quite. But of course there would be faint noises of rapid turning of pages and scribbling sounds of pen against paper, accompanied with hushed whispers of random gossips among the students.

But right now there was a higher frequency beside your ear, blubbering nonsense, while munching on the chocolate coated strawberries you made.

"—and then professor Kang decides to kick me out of the class?! Whereas i was just earin som shhtrawberries bro!" Yang Jungwon, the constant trouble up your ass, kept on rambling incoherently while shamelessly munching on the snacks.

"i think professor Kang did a wonderful job", you sighed, drifting your eyes over the texts of the open book in your lap.

You could already feel the heavy eye rolls from Jungwon as he moved his whole body to face you, a small plastic box of few remaining chocolate coated strawberries in his hands.

Jungwon leaned closer and you could figure out his little cocky smirk already. the box of strawberries now rested on the library floor, as he got closer to your ear, his breathe hot and hitting your cheeks, his lips grazing your ears like a feather.

"oh?", jungwon chuckled as he whispered, "you're only saying this cause i'm with you now, aren't ya?"

"oh shut up 'won!", you immediately shifted your head away from him but you couldn't control the evident blush that dawned on your cheeks. his proximity, his low voice and the tingling sensation on your ears were just enough to feel blood shoot up to your ears.

"how can i shut up now that you've given me a nickname, hmm?", jungwon smirked once more, tossing another of the strawberries in his mouth.

"i-", you couldn't formulate a single sentence at this point as jungwon would always have a flirtatious and smug comeback up his sleeve. he grinned, leaning down against the library shelf.

his striking smile also added to your now dumb state, by the way.

"You've been eating these for a week now", the book was closed in your lap and pointed towards the very plastic box in jungwon's hands with a bored pout.

"That's cause you've been makin' me these for a week, sweetcheeks", jungwon winked.

rolling your eyes, you scoffed, tilting your head as you watched jungwon munch away the snacks you made for him, looking ever so compelling even in an action as simple as this.

suddenly he just pulled you closer, letting your head flush against his chest and your skin bathe from his body heat.

"jungwon i think there's a lot of people h—"

"mm-hmm, i know," he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your shoulder, "but i know for a fact that we're at the very back of the library, and i only care about my sweetcheeks and this cute stuff she made for me."

yang jungwon was yet again successful in making blood rush up to your cheeks, only this time, he had both your bodies falling together like puzzle pieces.

"by the way," you mumbled, playing with the loose strings hanging from jungwons sweater, while he saved one last strawberry in the box, "are the strawberries any sweet?"

"sweet as sugar," jungwon sang. he guided your neck upwards to him, as he looked down at you, smiling ever so softly.

"but you know what is even sweeter?"

"what?"

although you didn't get any verbal answer from jungwon, the answer did come from his lips, by connecting his to yours, to a saccharine kiss. heck, you could even taste the strawberries with chocolate!

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lokisbiiiitch1993 · 6 months

Text

The Library

Loki x Reader Nsfw

Nsfw Not for Minors 🚫🔞❌

" I have enough... enough of this..... enough of you" you yelled annoyed and furious - with Tears in your Eyes and your Heart beating soo fast ,it feels almost too heavy it hurts , trying to breathe in and out hating how your throat feels sore from shouting with rage - I need to calm down you said to yourself.

Walking out of his Bedchamber you hear Loki demanding you to stay but you ignore him knowing full well he will come after you ,sooner than later .

You went to your second favorite place in this huge extravagant Palace.

The library was a grand example of architecture especially the Staircase with it's beautiful decor.

Standing on the Stairs looking down enjoying the view - thinking how magical and bewitching this Scene is suddenly you felt a presence behind you hissing "Say you didn't mean it !!"

looking at Loki confused you answered "Whaat ?"

Pulling you against him he responded "You said you have enough .... Didn't you promise a few weeks ago you could never get enough of me? ... soo which one is it my Dear ?"

"Lokiii " you whispered "I didn't mean it like that, you should know that"

Hugging you from behind he moved his Hands down your Body , underneath your Skirt , just the thought of his finger teasing your Clit made you moan

"Open your legs for me " Loki ordered

By doing as you were told he praised you"Good girl ,so obedient and so wet for me "

After Loki inserting a Finger and then another ,he was thrusting in a Rhythm , you had to hold on the railing.

"Loki , we shouldn't do that here,that's too risky" you stated nervous

" i thought you trust me" he answered a bit offended

"I do and that's not what I meant.....I am nervous about what if someone comes in?" you explained

" My Love, you don't have to worry about that, in fact you don't have to think about anything " he answered in a softer Tone

A smile is all you managed as he hit the perfect spot making you gasp

Moaning his name again and again desperately begging for him ,Loki fulfilled your wish pulling your Panties down and freeing his hard majestic Dick from his Pants , entering you slowly at first before,he takes over with a rough and fast Tempo , holding you tightly

" You are doing so well,my Love" he compliments before using his Fingers torturing your clit

"Mhhm mm Loki I am close" you cry out

" Goood,cuum for me,my Dear" he groaned

a moment later you felt the most intense orgasm you ever had , making your legs shake and almost fall down the Stairs if Loki wasn't there to hold you up .

Even Days later you get aroused at the thought of this ,questioning if it was the thrill of doing it in the Library or because you had a fight with Loki before

My Masterlist

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kidney9-9 · 4 months

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Having Twins with Them - Loki, Stephen, and Bucky

@stygianoir asked: For loki, Bucky , and Stephen (seperately ) Where their wife is pregnant and how are they before and after the baby comes Fluff plz

Hi Kitty, I hope you enjoy! Thank you for sending this in :) Please read the warnings.

Loki x Reader, Stephen x Reader, Bucky x Reader [Fluff] Warnings: Pregnancy, details about giving birth, and crying Word Count: Loki: 656, Stephen: 700, Bucky: 703

You were feeling a bit strange for a little bit before you suspected you were pregnant.

You called a friend one morning, freaking out about whether or not you were pregnant, and she brought over some tests for you to take. You were happy to find all the tests came back positive. You and Loki had been trying for a while, but you expected it to take a little longer to become pregnant.

When you revealed to him you were pregnant, he raised his eyebrow at you, then asked, “You’re joking, right?” Then quickly laughed and gave you a big hug, pulling you in close and twirling you around in a circle.

“You’ve given me something I wished and dreamed for, for years. Thank you, my love. We’ll take special care of our young one.” He murmured into your ear after he set you down.

He started to appear happier the farther along you were in your pregnancy. He’d always compliment you, give you gifts, and kiss you at random times. He would gaze at your stomach lovingly, and lay kisses on top, whispering sweet promises and lullabies to the baby.

During your delivery, he appeared as calm as ever, but secretly he was freaking out. You insisted on delivering in a hospital setting, and he was so confused about all the doctors and nurses around you. He went pale when he saw one of the tools the doctor was using, and hoped that for your next pregnancy (yes, he very much wanted more children), you would deliver with the help of Asgardian techniques.

It was so shocking to the family when you revealed you had twins, but Loki was smug. He was confident and happy that you two had healthy twins. The boy was named Salem and the girl was named Lilith. Loki and you adored them so much.

He dotted on them so much when they were first born and was the one to catch Lilith accidentally summon a demon. Yes, it was a very weak demon, but it was still very impressive and surprising. Salem soon after froze his crib after having a meltdown. Loki was so delighted in their magic and powers and soon started to document everything they did.

When they started talking, Loki was so excited. He’d talk to them in multiple languages and would smile brightly when one of them repeated his words. Salem was the first to say “Momma, Daddy”, and Lilith soon followed with calling you two, “Mommy, Papa.”

You healed up after the delivery great, and Loki surprised you by introducing some traditions with new moms from Asgard. They were so helpful, and it was a lot different than the techniques from Earth with healing after giving birth. There was a special tea he made for you, enchanted with some magic. It always made you feel more energetic after drinking it, and it helped with sleeping all those odd hours the babies were asleep.

When you were fully healed and ready to get back to doing your normal routine, Loki had come up to you one morning and wrapped his arms around you from behind. You grinned at him as he kissed your cheek.

“Mm, what are your plans for today, honey?” You asked him softly, your voice quiet so the babies could continue sleeping.

He chuckled slightly, “I was wondering if we could have a date night tonight. Maybe we could spend some time in our library, like last time.”

Your eyes shot wide open, and you turned around to face him, “You seriously cannot be saying you want to impregnate me again. So soon? Lilith and Salem haven’t even turned one!”

He pouted playfully, “Aw darling, but I would love to have more children with you. Maybe triplets this time?”

You laughed into his chest, “Maybe in a few years, after we get a hang of this parenting thing, right?”

He nodded thoughtfully, “Agreed.”

Stephen had a feeling something was off when you had come home one day, smiling a bit too often. He didn’t know what was going on though, so he kept extra quiet about it and just observed you to see if he could guess what was going on. When you noticed how quiet he had gotten that night, you pouted at him.

“Stephen, is something wrong?” You asked him somewhat nervously as you unconsciously placed a hand on your stomach.

“I just noticed you’re hiding something. You usually don’t hide things unless it’s a good surprise, so I’m wondering what it is.” He responded, grinning at your shocked expression.

“No fair! I wanted it to be a complete surprise for you tomorrow!” You objected, laughing at how quickly he caught on.

“You can tell me now and we can celebrate tomorrow?” He suggested, still completely wondering what it was that made you act like this.

You smiled brightly and scooted next to him. “I’m pregnant! I think I might be a bit later than I thought, since my stomach has been growing a bit faster than I expected. I took the test this afternoon.” You explained, mumbling, and rambling a bit because you were nervous for his reaction.

He gaped momentarily and then rushed over to you and picked you up and twirled you into a hug. You laughed in surprise at his reaction, not expecting this. He was usually so reserved and quiet about things, mostly reacting with humor!

“Sweetheart.” He murmured to you as he set you back down and pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you so much. You know how much I’ve always wanted children. This is a dream come true.” He whispered.

You smiled at his words, “I love you too, we’re going to be great parents!”

After he scheduled you an appointment with one of his old friends, he started buying so many prenatal vitamins and foods that would support your pregnancy. At the appointment, it was confirmed that you two were going to have twins! At first, he didn’t believe his friend, then looked at the ultrasound machine and saw the two little babies.

The next few weeks, he spent time coddling you and reading up on pregnancies involving twins. He researched so much and practically became an expert about twin pregnancies. He read so many books on parenting and baby proofed everything even though you were only three months pregnant at the time.

By your third trimester, he had everything set up for your due date. He personally vetted everyone who was going to be involved in the birthing process and supported you on your decisions on how you’d like to give birth.

The only things that were left up in the air were the names of the babies. You had been calling them, ankle biter one and two as a joke, and every name you two actually came up with hadn’t been agreed upon. Stephen would randomly speak to your stomach, saying random baby names and then would look up at you, and ask if those names would be good.

One day he came up with the name, Rose, while you were eating some rose ice cream. It was all you wanted to eat for three days, and the entire pregnancy, you had been craving rose flavored foods. Almost immediately after he said the name Rose, you agreed.

“She’s our little Rose, so cute.” You’d say as you’d feel one of the baby’s kick. For the boy, you two finally agreed with the name Philip, and a few hours later, you went into labor.

Stephen was on top of it, fully calm and ready, and supported you the entire time.

A few months later, you two were unconventional parents, amazing, nonetheless. Stephen used magic to parent all the time, and you would always be so surprised at all the magic he did. The best magic he had done during the first few months was to always have a bottle of milk ready to go – it automatically refilled itself.

How he did it? You never found out how, but whenever you asked about it, he would mutter something about arrogant entities.

You were a little nervous and worried when you found out you were pregnant. Bucky had always been a little upset when you’d mention family because he didn’t have any family in today’s world. Technically he only had you as his spouse for family, but you knew he missed his family from years ago.

But you knew you had to tell him, so you grabbed your positive pregnancy tests and walked into the bedroom. “Hey sweetie? Can I talk to you about something?” You spoke up nervously.

Bucky turned around and smiled softly at you. “Of course, you can. Don’t have to ask about it, either.”

You shrugged back sheepishly, “I know that, but this is something kinda serious and we have to talk about it.”

His expression changed to something stormy, and he pressed his lips into a line, “Are you safe? Is someone targeting you?”

“Oh no! Not like that! It’s – I’m, uh, pregnant.” You stumbled over your words and pushed the pregnancy tests in front of you, to show him. He blinked in surprise, his expression going momentarily blank before a happy one replaced it.

“Wait really?” He whispered, walking closer to you, and holding onto your hands. He gazed down at the multiple pregnancy tests you took.

“Mhm, there’s a baby in here I think.” You chuckled nervously and gazed down to your belly. He smiled brightly as he leaned down and kissed your stomach, making all your worries disappear. He murmured a sweet hello to your belly, then got back up and hugged you tightly, causing you to drop the tests to the floor. You laughed in surprise and hugged him back.

When you started going to appointments, Bucky drove you to each of them and attended all of them, holding your hand through exams to make you feel comfortable. It was the second appointment where you two found out you were having twins!

“Oh god! Twins… we need to get a new place. We need to buy two cribs! We have to go get supplies like right now!” Bucky started to ramble, eyes wide at the thought of two kids. You were in shock as well, asking the doctor to check again to make sure. You really didn’t expect to have twins.

Bucky seemed to be extra romantic as you got further along in your pregnancy. You’d notice it in the way he’d always lovingly kiss you longer each day before he went to the compound, and the way he’d come back with gifts for you both to enjoy. He’d light your favorite candles and prep your favorite foods, and at times you’d feel like you could melt in a puddle by the adoration you’d see in his eyes as he’d gaze down at your belly.

You both decided on the names rather early in your pregnancy. Scout was the boy’s name and Melody was the girl’s name. Bucky and you discussed it for about a week, agreeing quickly about the names. He used Steve’s name as Scout’s middle name and his sister, Rebecca, as Melody’s middle name.

When you went into labor, Bucky freaked out a bit and fainted when you squeezed his hand harder than you’ve ever had before. When he came back to, he apologized and put on a tough face and sat by you, supporting you the entire time.

“Look at our babies, sweetheart.” He murmured to you, holding them both in his arms and handing Melody to you. You two cried happily at the sight of both your children.

He sung lullabies to comfort the babies and he’d always be holding at least one of them. Scout was the first to say his first words, which was funnily enough, “No!” and “Momma”, when you served him some broccoli with rice.

Melody quickly said her words a few days after that, when Scout had accidentally bumped his foot into something, “Scout owie”. It was so adorable that you and Bucky had both awed out loud at the sight.

When you and Bucky had alone time, he’d take you out to your favorite date spots. You two spoke about all the memories you shared, and how sweet and special it’s been, having twins together.

#loki x reader #stephen strange x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dr strange x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fluff

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alexbrainrot · 10 days

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alex yearns for a family with you / smut

pairing: husband!alex x afab!farmer a/n: this was in my drafts i just tweaked it a little..

alex was helping you install some new sprinklers and looked over your land as he did so. it was beautiful, you worked so hard to get it this way. it was well kept and spacious. perfect enough for a family.

he didn't want to pressure you into having kids, he never really asked you about how you felt towards having any. he wanted to wait until you brought it up, but still, he couldn't help but dream of becoming a father. the father of your kids specifically.

ever since you two got married, he's been a happier man. he matured a lot, or at least that's what you told him and he trusted your word for it. he felt it in a way too, his priorities began to shift and he no longer focused on irrelevant matters. he was learning so many things as your husband and day by day, his desire to raise kids with you grew stronger.

"this is a great place to raise children. i would've loved growing up in a place like this. so much room to run around.." he says bashfully, brushing off the dirt on his boots.

you were too busy using your scythe to even process what he said for a moment. then, you finally looked at him, shielding your eyes from the sunlight. "you think so..?"

"yeah." he responds in a quiet voice. his gaze softening. he hoped that you understood what he was really trying to say. a comfortable silence follows before he turns away and continues adjusting your sprinklers. in the back of his mind he wonders if you have the same wish he does.

alex knew child bearing was not a walk in the park. the moment he began to think about parenthood, he picked up a few books in the library in secret. it taught him a lot, and made him more sympathetic towards your decision whatever it may be.

still, it was hard to let go of the idea.

that night, when you finally got into bed after a long day of hard labor, he turned to face you.

you smile softly, a little surprised that he was still awake, usually when you got home this late he was fast asleep. the moonlight shined through your bedroom window, creating a sparkle in his green eyes. "not sleepy?"

"mm." he sighs and looks away.

"tell me."

"tell you..?"

"somethings on your mind, lex."

he scratches the back of his neck, unsure if he should even bring it up. he feels like he has no right to at all. he pauses for a long time before he builds up the courage.

"do you.. want to try for a baby?"

his words and the look on his face immediately make your cheeks flush. it suddenly made sense to you why he brought up children earlier out of the blue.

"a baby..?" you whisper back. he can't help but smile in response. he wants you to say yes so badly. his body scoots closer until you can feel his warmth and he gently wraps his strong arms around your waist. "i don't know where you stand on this.. but i really want to be the father of your children." his voice quiet, almost pleading.

your eyes search his, he looks so sincere. you didn't know he felt this way at all.

"i'll help you the whole entire way, i promise. i'll take care of the farm.. i'll-" you cut him off with a soft kiss. your hand grasps his shirt and bunches it up as you pull him even closer.

he blushes and catches his breath when you finally break the kiss. "is that a yes..?" you gently nod your head. "yes, honey.”

the joy that he feels upon hearing that is indescribable. he squeezes your waist and kisses your face all over before nuzzling into your neck causing you to giggle. his touch is soft and gentle as his hand grazes your side.

“how are you feeling tonight..?” he whispers in a low voice before planting wet kisses down your neck.

you feel your whole body heat up immediately. the sudden change in his demeanor caught you off guard. “l-lex..”

“tell me… can i fill you up tonight, baby?”

his words make you shudder. “im a little sore...” it wasn’t a lie, you had been out on your farm the entire day trying to prepare for spring.

“you don’t have to do anything…just turn around for me..” he whispers, adjusting you so that he’s hugging you from behind. your backside pressed up against him, feeling his muscles flex. he sneakily removes your pajama shorts along with your panties evoking a gasp from you. his other hand still wrapped around your waist keeping you in place.

"this okay with you?" he lips brush the back of your neck. everything he was doing was sending you into a frenzy, it was as if you were losing complete control. your body was reacting on its own.

he pinches your side when you don't directly respond to him. "tell me, dear."

"y-yes lex.. please.."

you could already feel his hardened length underneath his boxers, poking at your entrance. with a swift movement, he slides them down and you're skin to skin.

"let me make this easier, dear." he grabs one of your legs and lifts it up gently, allowing him easy access to your entrance.

slowly, he inserts himself inside of you, wanting to savor the moment. you could feel him stretching you out inch by inch. "oh.." you let out a shaky gasp and grip his forearm as he takes his time. his thick cock took a while to ease into.

he grunts when he bottoms out fully and his fingers dig into your waist. he's trying his hardest to wait for your signal to start moving, but the way your insides hug him is difficult to resist.

his breath is heavy as he begins to thrust in and out with caution. the sensation is too much for him to handle. he feels himself so pathetically close already since it was your first time having sex without protection.

"y-you're so wet, fuck." his voice is husky against your ear. you simply whimper, unable to even give him a proper response with the way his hips are snapping against your ass.

he can hear the lewd sounds of your squelching pussy every time he pistons in and out of you.

"you're gonna look so pretty with a swollen belly.." he whispers. "we'll try every day, sweetheart. i wont miss a day." grunts and moans escape his mouth as his pace quickens. his thrusts becoming sloppier as the tension in his abdomen starts to build up.

"can't wait to suck on your swollen tits, sweetie.. fuck." his grip on your waist tightens after every word he speaks, he's so close.

"g-god lex.. faster.."

all he needed were your words to encourage him, his firm grip steadies you while he pounds into your cunt relentlessly. both of your bodies are sweaty, his hair is sticking to his forehead and his eyes are screwed shut while he uses up all of his strength and energy to help the both of you reach your climax.

his body felt like it was on fire, chasing that pleasurable feeling.

not long after, he feels you arch your back and let out a long drawn out moan. your juices coat his cock and your flushed body heaves up and down. he follows suit and groans as his hot seed spurts inside your pussy, filling you up so well. his member thrusting until there's nothing to give anymore.

his large hand brings your leg back down and delicately caresses your thigh as you both start to come down from your high. you can feel him smiling against your skin. "i really want to be a dad." he mumbles.

you smile and bring his hand up to your lips, planting a small kiss.

"fingers crossed."

#alex sdv #alex stardew valley #sdv alex fic #sdv alex smut #fem!farmer #stardew valley alex #stardew valley smut #sdv smut #stardew fanfic #stardew x reader #sdv alex #sdv alex x afab reader

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aprocessionofthoughts · 5 months

Text

Have you… you know… died?

part 3 of MM ao3

Jason wakes up slowly. God, his whole body feels sore and achy. He shifts, then freezes.

He was in an alley. He’d just been shot by some idioceta. He’d been bleeding out and unable to contact the cave. He struggled to remember what had happened.

Tim had been there, hadn't he? But he didn’t think he was at the cave. And he wasn’t in enough pain to account for a near fatal bullet wound. In fact, apart from feeling achy he felt fine. But he knew he had been shot. How long had it been?

He froze. He remembered glowing green. No. He was fine. He wasn’t with the League.

He could hear the sounds of traffic and what sounded like a whispered argument and he was still in uniform.

At least he still had his helmet on. Which actually didn’t help much since the display was busted and he could barely make out a water stained ceiling above him.

He tried to focus on the sound of voices, but they were muffled, probably in a different room.

He sits up slowly, turning his head to take in as much of the room as he can through the fritzing display. It looks like he’s in a living room. He’s laying on a couch with a small coffee table between it and an old T.V. that's sitting on a crate. Off to the side is a kitchen. The voices are probably coming from a bedroom, he still can’t make out what they’re saying apart from a few words that don’t tell him anything.

He stands, moving quietly towards the window. Whatever the situation is, it will be better if he can get out of here before they notice he’s awake.

The voices fall silent and Jason quickly unlocks the window. There are footsteps behind him and he hurries to pull the window open.

“Red Hood.”

Jaso pauses and turns back, tensing and preparing to defend himself.

He stills. In front of him looms a gorgeous redhead, she’s tall, probably about his height, and she has brilliant teal eyes. Behind her stands… a boy who looks remarkably like Tim. The eyes are a slightly different shade of blue and his hair is longer and unruly.

“If you’ll wait just a moment, Hood, my brother,” she glares at they boy who looks sheepish, “can explain what’s happening.”

Jason considered. It would be nice to know what happened. Why he isn’t dead. And what that green stuff was. And neither of them look like they could take him down.

He turns full towards them and crosses his arms, “Explain.”

The girl relaxes and smiles at him. “Thank you. I’m Jazz, and this is Danny.”

“Hi.”

Jason waits. Jazz nudges her brother who steps forward and rubs the back of his neck not looking at Jason.

“I found you outside and unconscious. I brought you here, so you wouldn’t get murdered by some random goon or something.”

Jason stares. “You,” he points. “carried me?” There’s no way this scrawny kid carried him.

“Umm…”

Jazz nudges Danny again and he shoots her a glare.

“What did you do?” Jason asks.

“What?” Danny frowns.

Jason motions to the tear in his suit, the bloodstain. “What did you do? I clearly remember getting shot.”

“Well, you see…” Danny trails off.

Jazz sighs. “Danny was able to heal you.”

“You a meta?” Jason asks. He feels relieved. If the kid’s a meta that means there was no Lazarus pit involved.

“Not exactly.” Danny says slowly, not looking at Jason. Jason waits. After a moment Danny continues. “Have you at some point, died or been really close to death or glowing green goo?”

Jason tenses up. He grits his teeth and he can feel his eyes start to glow. He steps forward menacingly, reaching for a gun that he only now realizes is on the coffee table and not in his holster. He shoves the fear down and growls, “What do you know about the Pits?”

*idioceta (ee-dýoh-keh-tah)- a word I made up combining the spanish words idiota and biblioteca. Means a library full of stupidity or a library worth of stupidity.

#jason todd #jason is liminal #jazz fenton #liminal jazz #danny fenton #bad parents jack and maddie fenton #fentons in gotham #dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #dp x dc #dc x dp #jason todd is so done #lazarus pit #ectoplasm

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honey-ca · 1 month

Note

Please! Sirius is stressed about his final exams so he decides to de-stress in the library with you while his friends study.

OF COURSE!!! Like I said in the headcanon, this men loves quickies.

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

Warning: voyeurism, public sex, bad word's, little creampie.

"Just a little longer, my pretty girl."Sirius was ramming into you at the top of his lungs, pushing against the last bookcase in the hallway.

Still he covered your mouth from the little moans that escaped your mouth even though your lip was bitten.

"Mm-hmm," you tried to warn, but his hand wasn't helping.

"What's wrong?" asked Sirius, softly "Can't you hold on? " Sirius quickly stopped moving, hearing what you too.

"Sirius? y/n?" you recognised Peter's voice. Surely the boys would have sent him after you.

"We must hurry, my precious" Sirius grinned, and feeling the adrenaline of being caught he continued his hard thrusts and to finish first he brought his hand to your clit.

"Mmg! "You stirred at the sudden pleasure and your legs began to tremble.

"Uh! Pretty girl gets off on being caught" Sirius moaned "You're such a fucking slut!"Your legs soon began to tremble, announcing your come, and Sirius's thrusts became rougher and more unbalanced.

"Come on! A little more my pretty slut" Sirius moaned as you tightened around him "God, I'm going to come".

And so he did, 3 thrusts later he cummed and you followed him, Sirius had to squeeze his hand.

Your legs soon began to tremble, announcing your arrival, and Sirius's legs were doing the same, his thrusts becoming rougher and more unbalanced.

"Come on! A little more my pretty slut" Sirius moaned as you tightened around him "God, I'm going to come".

And so he did, 3 thrusts later he cummed and you followed, Sirius had to clench his hand to keep your scream from escaping, causing you to roll your eyes.

When Sirius pulled out of you, he quickly pulled up your panties and skirt so that his cum didn't stain the library floor. When he pulled up his trousers and tidied himself up a bit, he came up to your cheek and placed a kiss on your cheek and then whispered to you :"Remember that tomorrow we also have a study meeting, here, at the same time, beautiful".

Mentally you sighed knowing that tomorrow the same thing awaited you.

#fanfic #smut #+18 or +adult only #hp marauders #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black headcanon #sirius black #marauders era #sirius orion black #sirius being sirius #the marauders

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irrevocably-urs · 1 year

Text

✗ a night in the library

“Are you enjoying this?”

Diavolo whispered in your ear as he slowly circled two fingers on your clothed cunt, applying just the right amount of pressure leaving you biting down on your lip. You didn’t want to be heard.

You were both in the school library and it was way past school hours. You were gathering your things getting ready to leave when Diavolo coincidentally walked through the door. He must’ve been so worried since it was late. He didn’t like it when you would go out without at least giving him a heads up.

I guess you were too caught up with school work but he was to blame for that.

“Hm?”

You whimpered with a nod, growing tired from holding up one of your legs as Diavolo was holding the other, spreading you nicely for him. You were sitting on his lap, pressed up against his warm body.

“Please,” You whimper, wanting his fingers inside of you. He ignored your request, continuing to rub his two digits on your clit slowly. It felt good but you wanted more.

“Use your words, Darling,” He smiled knowingly, watching your legs twitch from his fingers. He removed his hand that was underneath your leg and brought your other hand in the place where his hand was before.

He then moved his hand up underneath your shirt, moving your bra aside. He gently pinched your nipple, turning and squeezing perfectly. You let out a breathy moan, your back arching away from him.

“Please, I want them inside me,” You spoke with need. You felt a tingling feeling in your lower stomach that was on the point of tilting over. You wanted it so bad. “Them?” He was aroused by the way your face contoured trying to concentrate on the pleasure he was barely providing you.

“Your fingers,” You whispered, a bit embarrassed that you were specific.

“Mm, You really want them?” His voice was deep as he spoke by your ear causing goosebumps to appear on your body. You nodded impatiently. He moved his fingers on your clit faster. “Yeah?” He mewled into your ear, biting your earlobe. You nodded profusely, your cunt spasming around nothing. Your muffled moans filled the once quiet library.

Diavolo planted kisses along your exposed shoulder, biting down every now and then. He moved aside your panties, finally inserting two digits into your cunt while circling your clit with his thumb. He curled his fingers hitting your sweet spot. Loud moans slipped out of your mouth.

“Be quiet, we don’t want to get caught, do we?” He spoke in a low tone, sending shivers up your spine. He added another finger, increasing his pace. You shook your head letting out a breathy ‘No’ at the sudden change of pace. You close your eyes, your mind going blank for a second as you murmur words of encouragement to Diavolo.

Diavolo’s eyes darkened at your gesture. You smelled so good it was intoxicating. He couldn't get enough, the way your cunt swallows his fingers perfectly; in and out so smoothly. It arouses him in ways that didn’t seem imaginable.

He leaned back on the chair, spreading his legs apart, opening your legs even more as they were on his thighs. He laid his chin on your shoulder so he could watch his fingers disappear inside of you. You breathe deeply adjusting to the sudden openness, your cunt was on full display for anybody who decided to walk in the library.

You felt somewhat anxious about what might happen if you were caught by someone. Although they might not be able to say anything since it’s Diavolo they would be talking about. But you didn’t want to admit the thought of everyone knowing about this felt erotic.

Diavolo pressed roughly on your clit, circling swiftly, making your hips jerk.

The moans you were trying to keep in slipped out. You shut your mouth when you realised.

“Shh,” He spoke softly beside you, going faster. His other hand squeezing your breast.

“Focus on the feeling, Darling,” He cooed, his warm breath hitting the side of your face, then planting a kiss on your cheek. You move your head to the side, arching your back against his abdomen. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. His fingers felt good.

The new found pleasure taking over your body. Your heart raced faster as you tried to close your legs. You released one hand from underneath your knee, letting out a silent cry. It felt so good.

“F– fuck Diavolo, it feels so good,” You grind your hips against his hand wanting more. “Please don’t stop-” You cried out as your legs quivered, your muscles tensed up as your eyes rolled back. Your whimpering was the only thing that could be heard. Diavolo kept the same pace riding out your orgasm. You gripped his hand trying to slow him down as he overstimulated your clit. “O-oh f–fuck,” You raise your hips as it was too much.

“That’s it, Darling. Just like that,” His voice was husky as he watched your legs spasm at his touch. You clench around his fingers as you cum again. Your moans were the only thing playing through Diavolo’s mind, as if it was his favorite melody.

“You did amazing,” He praised as you slumped against his body. You tried calming down your breathing, your legs now quivering. He slowly pulled out his fingers out of your cunt. You whimper at the loss.

Diavolo watched his fingers covered in your juices make a visible string connecting his finger to your core. He cursed underneath his breath at the site.

He brought his fingers to his face to taste them. He wrapped his mouth around them sucking them dry. “Mm, you taste wonderful, my love,” He cooed lovingly. Diavolo sat up on the chair, grabbing your chin to face him as his other hand held you by your stomach so you wouldn't fall. You gaze at him, his eyes filled with lust. He moved his head to the side as he leaned in, embracing your soft lips in a slow kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips. He broke the kiss, a string of salvia connecting your lips. You lost yourself in his eyes as they glowed a bright gold. Diavolo stared at you intensely, saying many things with his eyes without a word being said. He gently kissed your forehead before hooking his arm under your legs and holding your back with the other as he stood up.

“Let’s go get you cleaned, my love,” He looked down, watching your face rest against his body, as your chest heaved up and down gently. You felt yourself succumb into the darkness.

He smiled tenderly, knowing he had found his forever.

#obey me x reader #obey me! shall we date?#obey me!#diavolo x mc #diavolo x y/n #shall we date diavolo #dia #oneshot #obey me diavolo smut #diavolo smut #obey me smut #obey me diavolo #fan fic smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 19 days

Text

Don't Speak 44

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: took a while.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Ann covers your mouth with hers, her tongue delving inside as you garble. You lay, still as marble as her hand slides down your pelvis. She curls her fingers and rolls along your clit, playing with you as you squeak.

She rocks her hand as your body reacts. You don't want it too. You want it to stop. Her, too.

She grabs the back of your head, her other hand firmly between your legs as she forces it further between your thighs. She pokes a finger inside you as you whimper and flatten yourself against the mattress. He lifts herself, staying attached to you as she straddles you below.

She leans on her hand, tilting as if it's connected to her pelvis, fucking you as she pushes in a second finger. You squeeze your eyes shut, struggling to breathe as she traps you.

"Mmm," she drags her lips down her cheek and you feel the gloss smear on your skin, "you delicious, aren't you??" She purrs, "he's going to like you so much."

She rams her fingers as deep as she can, crushing her hand against you violently. You whimper but don't stop her. You're terrified and confused. What is she doing? What does she mean?

“Relax, honey, I'm just getting you ready for him,” she growls and nuzzles you, “you're so tight. He’s really going to enjoy that.”

You squirm as a whine escapes you. You hide beneath your eyelids as she continues her intrusion. Her nose touches yours, lips brushing as her breath cascades hotly across your cheeks. She closes the distance and crushes her mouth to yours, her tongue delving inside without welcome.

Your head pulses and spins, your body sets alight as you wriggle, helpless to her affections. Your heart lurches as a vision flashes in your mind. It’s not Ann, it’s Andy atop of you, touching you, forcing you, smothering you.

You turn your face away and gasp. Your eyes roll open, glossy with tears as you push on Ann’s shoulders. You’re too weak to make a difference as she nips and kisses at your neck instead. She keeps you splayed her legs against yours as she tilts her hand, fucking you to the knuckle as she puffs in tandem.

“Mm,” she purrs, “be a good girl... yeah, are you getting wet for him? For my husband?”

“Please,” you whisper.

“Don’t be ashamed. A pathetic thing like you has simple desires, don’t you?” She taunts, “he’s your doctor, sweetheart, and you’re panting like a dog to have him.”

“Please... stop,” you beg as you grasp her upper arm, “I don’t...”

“I can see it,” she snarls and bits along your jawline, “baby, I’m not mad at it. He needs a new toy.” She shoves her fingers as deep as they’ll go, “he might play with you but he comes home to me.”

You sniffle and slap your hand down on the bed. You can’t fight her. You deserve this. She’s right. You’re a bad person. You like Dr. Kemp more than you should. You’re a patient and she’s his wife.

“Mmm,” she drags herself down your body, keeping her hand buried between your legs, “let me help you...”

She kneels between your legs and tears down your pants. Your body bounces on the bed as you lay paralysed to her whims. She untangles your pants from your legs and hurls away the fabric. She bends to breathe into the tuft of hair along your pelvis.

She nuzzles and pokes her tongue between your folds. You clench your teeth and stare at the wall. You hold air in your chest as she keeps her fingers sliding in and out, teasing your bud as she hums. Your feet arch even as you fight to stay number to her touch.

Just like with Andy, you want it to end. You need it to be over. You wiggle your nose as you try to keep the tears from falling. How could you ever believe you were saved? More foolishly, how could you think Steve could ever like you like that?

Your eyes glaze over as the plucking of her tongue twangs in your core. No, no, no, you don’t want to feel. You pant and puff, trying to hold back the effect of her violation. You dig your nails into the blanket and squeak as your insides coil and release. You spasm and whimper through the uninvited orgasm and bite your lip until you taste blood.

She keeps touching you, invading you as she shoves her fingers into your cunt. She pushes to her knuckles and slides back out, slow as she pulls her mouth off of you. She purrs as she dips in and out, long strokes that have you squirming. It hurts, more than physically.

You turn your head straight and cry out as you notice a shadow behind her. You couldn’t hear Steve past your own deafening breaths. So caught up in the whirlwind of your horror that your heartbeat tamped out all around you.

Ann tilts her head up as he stands behind her. His thick hands rest on her shoulders, kneading them as he bends to kiss her lips. She murmurs something you can’t make out and drags her fingers down your thigh, leaving a wet streak down your flesh.

She shifts back on her heels and stands, turning to her husband as you sniffle. You can’t hold back anymore. You’re mortified. You push your legs together as he caresses her cheek and whispers to her. He turns to you, his blue eyes drifting over your body.

You sit up as he presses a knee to the mattress. You bend your legs and fold them against your chest. He comes towards you and tickles up your calves.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he coos, “you can trust me.”

“Please,” you croak, “you... you’re married.”

“Sweetie, it’s... open. An arrangement. It’s fine. You’re not doing anything wrong,” he trails his hand up your calf, “just relax.”

“Steve, I...” you pout.

He pauses and sits back on his heels, his forehead lines and his face falls, “I thought... I thought you liked me.”

“I do but I didn’t know...” you look at Ann as she watches you with a smirk, biting her index fingers coyly.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something, I know, but I... I like you too,” he breathes, “and she knew about you. All this time. Wasn't she nice to you?” He turns his head, “Ann...”

“She came,” she pokes her finger into her mouth and sucks on it, popping it out, “she’s sweet. Why don’t you have a taste?”

You blanch and peer between them. Your heart is fluttering wildly. You’re dizzy but you can’t decipher the swirling inside of you. You don’t know if you want this. You don’t what you want.

You bat your eyes at Steve and your heart flips. No, you know you want Steve. That day you touched yourself and he flashed into your mind you were sure. For the first time in your life, you really wanted something.

“Sweetheart,” leans forward, his hands on the mattress, “can I kiss you?”

Your lip quivers. He says it’s okay. She’s not mad. So it must be...

Can you really say no? It’s their house. They welcomed you in and if you leave... what do you do? Go back to Andy?

You nod, “okay.”

She smile and moves towards you slowly. He leans over your knees and cradles your face. Your nerves go haywire, fiery as they ping off of each other. You dreamt of this. His hands on you, gentle and patient, him bending his head, his lips inches from yours. Your mouths meet and sparks fly.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to forget the other body in the room. He hums and you put your hand on his arm, bracing him as you push your lips against his. His tongue pokes around and you open your mouth. It’s much nicer than kissing Andy.

He moves closer, keeping his mouth on yours. His hand crawls up your leg and he urges your knees apart. You unlock them and he moves between them. He lays you down slowly, delving deep into your mouth, devouring you. You’re breathless and windswept by his intensity.

His lips slip down your cheek and his hand creeps down your body. He tugs at your sweater, rolling it up your torso. He pushes it up and up and up. You raise your arms and he parts as he pulls it above your head. He sweeps it off your arms and throws it away.

He falls on you again as you squeak. He crushes you beneath him as he kisses you fervently, hungrily. You feel his need against you.

“Mm, honey, you’re such a tease,” Ann taunts and your lashes flick.

He draws back, “relax, sweetheart,” he pets your cheek and once more smothers your lips.

He growls into your mouth, rolling his hips against you, pushing his rigid excitement against your naked pelvis. You whine and squeeze his shoulder, your other hand clasping around the front of his shirt. The friction fills you with torturous heat.

He parts again, kissing the tip of your nose, then your forehead, your cheeks, your jawline. He slides down your body leaving a speckling of kisses along your flesh. He feels the thin fabric of your bra and nips at each tit, burying his face between them.

“You always play with your food,” Ann’s shadow shifts and she sits in the chair in the corner.

You can’t see much past Steve’s shoulders as he bends over you, dragging himself back. He lowers himself to his stomach and hooks his hands around your thighs. His hot breath scours over your cunt and you gasp. You push yourself up on your elbows and watch him nuzzle the patch of coarse curls.

He flicks is tongue between your folds quickly and you twitch. He does it again and you react just the same. He purrs and delves his tongue down along your lips and swipes it up slowly. His eyes stick to yours as you watch dumbly.

He centres on your clit and seals his lips around it, sucking as you cry out at the sparkling pressure. Your arms collapse and fall flat on your back. You arch as he hums and pushes your legs against the sides of his head. He rocks his head, growling as he laps you up, moving you with him.

Your fingers curls and you drag them up and down your stomach, leaving hot lines as you writhe and moan. You reach down and feel his thick waves, clutching them as you push your pelvis into him. He is so warm, so delicate, so delightful. He’s nicer than you could ever dream.

Shallow puffs scrape from your throat and your chest rises and falls. Your voice escapes in little mewls and moans, piquing as you tug on his hair and quake. You cum, feeling how you slicken in his mouth, how his tongue spread around your pleasure. That sensation tingles through you from head to toe.

Your eyes snap up as suddenly a hand frames your chin. Ann sits on the bed sideways, she’s naked. She bends over you, kissing you. You babble, weakly nudging her with your hand. Steve’s tongue swirls and has you too spastic to resist. She pulls backs, circling the tip of her nose around yours, and she sighs.

“Steve, I want to see you in her,” she turns to face him, reaching to toy with your tits.

He lifts himself, his face flushed, his lips and nose glistening. His eyes are alight. Your head lolls back and forth.

Ann pulls down the cups of your bra, tweaking so you cry out. She gropes and grabs, twirling her thumb around your budding nipples. You bring your hands to your sides and clasp the blankets.

Steve strips off his sweater, his hair messy as he drops it over the end of the bed. He stands to push down his jeans as his erection bulges inside his briefs. You gurgle as Ann continues to play with you, tickling up and down your stomach before once more fondling your chest.

Steve rolls down his briefs and springs free. You gape at his size and tense. Ann leans down to press her cheek to yours, “relax, baby, he’s going to take good care of you.”

She turns her head and kisses your cheek before she sits up again. Her hand dances around your torso as she purrs and watches her husband kneel between your knees. His thighs press to your and he prods along your folds. He rubs his tip against you, wetting himself, up and down, smearing your juices around.

“Hurry up,” Ann demands.

He exhales, his muscled chest straining as you bit your lip. He pushes against your entrance and slides into you. He inches in, little by little, and Ann leans forward. She stares between your legs as he sinks to his limit and yours. Your body racks and you reach down as you whimper.

“Fuck...” Steve groans, his voice raspy like a snarling beast.

“Is she tight, baby?” Ann asks, “hmm, is she?”

“Yeah,” he pulls back and rolls back in. You moan and grip your own hips as your toes curl. “She’s squeezing me so good.”

“Keep fucking her,” Ann sneers, “fuck her good.”

Ann bounces around the bed, hovering next to her husband, pressing against him as she reaches to squeeze his ass. She kisses his shoulder as he groans and rocks his hips smoothly into you. Your eyes roll back as your walls quiver.

“You better fill her up,” Ann snarls, “I want her leaking with you, baby.”

He ruts into you hard, jolting you as your legs splay around him limply. He squeezes your thighs, holding you in place as he speeds up thrust by thrust. You look down hazily. He snaps his hips as Ann brings her hand over one of his. She hums and leans her head against him.

“Are you going to cum?” She taunts, “huh, baby, are you gonna gush inside of her? You going to make a mess...”

“Stop--” he hisses.

“Come on, she’s almost there,” she reaches to put her thumb on your clit, rolling it around until you’re whining. “Baby girl, go on and cum on his dick.” She presses harder as you tense, “do it.”

You push your head back and your chest up. You orgasm as Steve keeps his rhythm. You clench around him, clinging to him as he groans and grunts. He slams into you, over and over, his voice drone out of him through gaspy breaths.

“That’s it, you fill her up nice and good,” Ann flicks your oversensitive clit, “oh, bad boy, cumming in your own patient. What a bad doctor.”

He slows and your body goes slack. As he stops, still half inside of you, you feel his cum trickling down from your cunt. You blink and peek down at him as he hangs his head. Ann rubs his arm and he shrugs her off. He slides out and backs off the bed.

“Why the fuck would you say that?” He growls under his breath as he snatch his pants off the floor.

He pulls them on, leaving them undone as he holds them up and stalks to the door. She giggles and watches him go. She sighs and looks at you as the door snaps shut.

“He can be so sensitive,” she wiggles her fingers between your folds and you tremble, “just like you, huh?”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #librarian au #steve kemp #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #fresh #defending jacob #don't speak

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