#but now I'm set up and doing things and we do this. like. I know it isn't actually targeted at me bc that would be stupid but also

[dear-ao3]

friends, besties, worsties, davids, and meow meows of the jury. i have a tale for you. while i claim to be no bard (like saph, the queen of very long dramatic tumblr stories that make your heart weep), i must spin a wee bit of yarn in the form of a story. what story? a story of the green cake.

we shall, as most stories do, start almost at the beginning.

the date? january 2nd.

the time? late.

the occasion? saph comes home the third.

the problem? i have no butter or sugar.

now, saph's birthday was recently, so like any other best bud i said i was making a cake. i believe my exact words were 'i'm making you a cake whether you like it or not."

now, gang, i must level with you. this is the fourth cake i've made in my life. i am a reasonably good baker (i can bake a Mean Loaf of Bread), but i'm not a very experienced baker. 3/4 cakes were reasonably good, and only one was just slightly off. so, my track record is mixed, but i am hopeful.

now, let me take you to the present.

i am sitting at my dining room table, typing this post. i am wearing a shirt covered in flour, the green cake is in the oven.

how did i get here?

well, we won't go to the beginning. we've already seen what was basically the beginning, with me having no butter or sugar. the real story begins the morning of january 3rd. which is today. which is when saph comes home, expecting a green cake. as most reasonably well adjusted people do when their roommates parents are visiting, i stressed cleaned the entire apartment at 4am, after realizing the mice in my walls are fucking. i did not leave them a condom. i did not have one that would fit them. i can only hope they have plan b. so naturally, i went to bed at 6am.

and i still had no sugar or butter for the green cake for saph.

and i needed to get started on this cake before 10am, or saph would be here before it was finished.

and i went to bed at 6am. so naturally i set my 9:00, 9:02, 9:04, 9:06 alarms, and hoped i'd lock in when i woke up.

friends, i hate to admit it, but i did not lock in. nay, i slept through all of my alarms and woke up at roughly 9:45. it was cold, damp, and the mice were still probably fucking. i threw my hair into a messy bun, and ran downstairs, only to find my mom was selling me to one direction.

jk. it was far worse.

because saph said she had sent me something.

what did saph send me?

a full poster of david malukas! do i know why? no! but he lives in my kitchen now, providing me with mental support. thanks david!

so, i begin to make the cake after laughing for about 10 minutes about why david is now in my apartment. it starts off surprisingly well. i have not forgotten the salt.

everything is normal.

until i remember.

the cake needs to be green.

why? idk thats what saph said she wanted so i am just going to do what i was told to do and make this damn cake green.

but its now late in the process, and if there is one thing i have learned in all my years of watching the great british baking show with my mom, it is to never over beat your cake.

and my cake, right now, was perfect. trust me. i ate plenty of dough to know it was wonderful.

so now i am trying to figure out how to make the most perfect shade of nico rosberg green, feeling a bit like an alchemist. david malukas is staring me down. my time grows shorter and shorter with each beat.

and then, gang, i had to give up on this being nico rosberg green. i did not want to kill my cake. my green cake. my now mint-green cake that i am baking for saph. so naturally i'm like, okay, time to pour this.

easy, right?

WRONG.

so one thing to know about me is i suck at cutting things.

it's unfortunately a key ingredient in cake making that you have a stupid little circle on the bottom of your cake tins. i cut it the best i could. which was bad. so i'm already fighting demons trying to get the stupid parchment paper from sliding every which way, and then, my friends, i realized something horrible.

the batter had not mixed at the bottom. so now i was fighting even more demons and trying not to get loose flour in my cake.

i think i succeeded. only time will tell. david is watching. the cake is almost done.

i am setting the green cake free.

look upon him now, and weep. the green cake prevails! even though he doesn't look very green yet.

and now, for the hardest part. frosting.

let's see how that goes.

david still watches.

[nanavn]

[ID: a series of screenshots of a twitter thread by Sheila O'Malley @sheilakathleen.

Text: The year after my dad died was so bad I don't remember 90% of it. I moved to a new apt and was unable to unpack. For MONTHS. I was ashamed I couldn't unpack. How can you be UNABLE to unpack? Just open the g.d. boxes. That was the year I cried for 19 days. Straight. /1

My good friend David - whom I've known since high school - knew I was struggling and he felt helpless. He said "you are loved" "we need you". I was like, "Doesn't matter, but thanks." So he took a risk. It very well could have ended badly. I could have lashed out. /2

I could have been really REALLY offended. But he took the risk. He sent out an email to a group of local friends (w/out my knowledge) and said, "Sheila is struggling. She needs our help. Let's all go over there and unpack her apartment for her. Bring food. Let's make it fun." /3

David sent me an email saying "will you be home Thursday night? Can I stop by?" I said "Sure." Sitting surrounded by 200 unpacked boxes. /4

At 6 pm on Thursday night the doorbell rang and 10 of my friends barged in, bearing platters of food, cleaning products, and complete unconcern for my 'wait … you CAN'T COME IN HERE I HAVEN'T UNPACKED YET" protestations. They ignored me and got to work. /5

They unpacked my boxes. They put away my 1,500 books. They hung pictures for me. They organized my closet and put away all my clothes. Meanwhile, someone set up a taco-making station in the kitchen. People brought beer. By the end of the night, my apartment was all set up. /6

I literally was unable to do THE SIMPLEST THINGS. And nobody judged me. They were like superheroes sweeping in. One friend arrived late, stood in the hallway, looked at me and said, "PUT ME TO WORK." /7

One of my friends basically took over hanging all of my posters and pictures. "I'm really good at measuring stuff. Let me put all these up in your hallway." I hovered, not wanting to give up control: "wait … put that one there maybe?" She said, "Go away." I did. /8

And she was so much better at hanging stuff than I was! Here are my friends putting away my books. /9

Here's a break for dinner. Please note that my friend Sheila's dinner plate is resting on my DVD player. /10

I was overwhelmed at the sight of all of my crazy friends turning themselves into Santa's workshop. On my behalf. W/out asking me. They just showed up and barged in. I was embarrassed for like 10 minutes but they were all so practical and bossy I had no choice but to let that go.

At the end of the night, I looked at my friend's husband - a quiet tactiturn guy who drives a tugboat on the Hudson - practical, man of few words - and I just looked at him, speechless, not knowing how to say Thank You, especially to this tough resilient self-sufficient man.

He looked at me, saw the look on my face, understood the look, understood everything that was behind it - and said, “Listen, baby, what we did today was a barn-raising.”

That's the end. The "ask for help" advice is well-meaning but not really thought through. There's shame, there's enforced helplessness, there's the feeling you're not worth it, etc. My friends didn't wait for me to ask. They showed up. They took over. They didn't ask.

When they all swept out of there 4 hours later, my place was a home. Not only was everything put away - but now it had a memory attached to it, a group memory, friends, laughing, dirty jokes, hard work. These are the kinds of friends I have. Be that kind of friend to others.

To reiterate: this plan could have backfired. I very well could have been offended, insulted, hurt. David took that risk. Being a friend takes commitment. A willingness to take that risk.

End ID]

Text from https://x.com/sheilakathleen/status/1005116845240848385, unrolled with threadnavigator.com

This is literally the most heart warming story I have read on Twitter so far. I think this is exactly what friends should do, and I feel everyone deserves people like this.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forgiveness

Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: Cregan begs for his wife’s forgiveness when he accidentally injures her.

Warning: no use of y/n, mentions of smut, injuries, i'm pretty sure that's it

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

Cregan sat in his study, buried in letters and decrees that claimed they required the utmost attention. They all said that even if they truly did not require that level of priority. However, everyone wanted their Lord’s approval and signature, leaving him to sort through what was a priority and what could wait. In some ways he missed the war, at least he was fighting and protecting his realm then. He felt like a true lord then. Now, he may as well be a bureaucrat locked in some tower of the Red Keep, imprisoned by his own position.

As he moved on to some sort of land dispute, there was a harsh knock on his door. “Enter,” he called, not even looking up.

The large, heavy door swung open, revealing a guard. “Lady Stark, my lord,” he announced.

Interest piqued, Cregan looked up just in time to see the guard step aside, revealing his lady wife. Without having to be dismissed, the man exited, shutting the door behind him to leave the couple alone.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” his wife explained her presence, approaching his desk.

For the first time that day, the Warden of the North took a break from his work, setting his quill down and leaning back in his seat. Sparing a glance out the window, he realized that it was dark. It had only been mid-afternoon when he sat down to begin his bureaucratic duties. “I suppose you’re right,” he confirmed, recalling that he had gently pressed a kiss against his sleeping wife’s head when he woke before disappearing for the day.

Opening his arms, he invited her to approach. Taking his cue, the lady of the north took a seat on his lap, easily slotting into his body. It was a well known fact that the Lord and Lady of Winterfell were unusually affectionate for a pairing of such high status. Typically, love was reserved for those who did not marry for status, or for extramarital affairs. But it seemed the Stark couple had been quite lucky in their match.

“The day has ended, we should go to bed,” Cregan’s wife asked in a soft voice, her fingers trailing through the hair she swept away from his face.

He smiled, finding his tension soothed by her mere presence. “Aye, I wish that I could but this has to be done,” he sighed, gesturing to his desk still covered in documents.

Observing all the work, the lady sighed, leaning her head against her husband’s for a moment. “But you, my lord, are the Warden of the North. Who is to tell you when things must be done?” she asked suggestively, knowing what calling him ‘my lord,’ did to her husband.

Cregan let out the faintest growl, wanting to dive into his wife right there but he restrained himself. “Why I thought that was your job,” he teased.

Fortunately, she laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made Cregan want to mark her neck in the way he so loved. “Please,” she dismissed, “I can hardly get my own husband into bed. How can I tell you what to do?”

He chuckled. “Fortunately for no one, my discipline is strong enough to withstand your temptations. Although, I admit they are barely capable. I swear to you,” he began, gently lifting his wife from his lap, “that I will be in our chambers within the next hour,” he said, eyes flickering to the candle on his desk that was nearly at its end. “I expect you to be ready for me,” he uttered darkly.

His wife blushed like it was their wedding night again, despite hearing far more vulgar things from her husband. “And how shall you expect me?” she asked teasingly.

Cregan bit his lip. As adorable as he found his wife when she was shy and coy at the mere inclination of sex, he loved when she was daring and teasing. He thought for a moment, staying silent for longer than necessary only to create an illusion for his wife. “Naked. On our bed. With your fingers between your legs.”

~

Once again Cregan found himself locked away in his office, buried in endless paperwork. He was deeply entrenched in some matter of land disputes when the door suddenly burst open. Cregan looked up in astonishment, his mouth open to reprimand them for their dismissal of protocol.

“My apologies, my lord,” the out of breath guard interrupted. “But a wildling has attempted to enter Winterfell. Says he wants to be a southerner, like us.”

Cregan quirked a brow, utterly confused as to why this required so much urgency and why someone had dared call him a southerner. “And why does this require so much urgency that you have broken protocol?”

“The gatesmaster believes this may be some sort of ruse to breach the walls of Winterfell.”

Cregan nodded, standing up. As he exited his office, he found a group of guards standing outside, seemingly waiting to follow them outside. He did not say anything about the waste of manpower at his door but headed outside. “Which gate was it?” he asked.

“The north gate,” his guard answered.

Nodding, the Warden of the North headed out to the northern courtyard. As he exited the walls of the keep, he intended to greet the gatesmaster who stood talking to another sentry. But catching sight of the supposed wildling made him freeze. Standing there by the gate was a disheveled man, looking as if he had spent his entire life in the woods. And talking to him, unguarded, was the Lady of Winterfell.

Cregan abandoned his path towards his gatemaster to get his wife away from the wildling. Who would have possibly thought it would be wise to leave both the wildling and his wife unguarded, even more so to let them meet? He was not thinking clearly as he reached the pair, grabbing his wife’s arm to wrench her away from the vile man before her. He must have pulled harder than intended because she let out a yelp as he did so. Still, he did not comprehend it as he whirled around to face his men, still clutching her arm.

“Who left them unguarded?” he demanded, his voice booming so loud it silenced the entire courtyard. He watched in rage as the crowd of men all sent glances to one another.

The spell was only broken by his wife’s cry. “Cregan, you’re hurting me,” he heard his wife whimper. Finally looking at her, he realized just how tightly he was gripping her arm. He relaxed his grip a bit, but still held on tight enough to push her so she stood in front of him, making himself a barrier between her and the wildling. She let out another cry as he jerked her, her free hand reaching for the hand clutched around her arm. She grabbed his wrist in a futile attempt to get him to let go. “Cregan, let go,” she cried again.

Seeing his wife’s face twisted in pain, the Lord of Winterfell realized what he had done. Quickly, he released his grasp, her arm falling into her own grasp. The cold air that whipped through Winterfell became biting as Cregan watched his wife cradle her arm against her chest, backing away from him as if he were the threat. As she backed up toward a guard, gesturing for him to escort her away, Cregan’s heart broke as he realized that in that moment, she felt safer with a guard than with him.

His jaw clenched as he leveled a glare to the men that had followed him, realizing that they had all run to tell him what was happening rather than do their actual jobs. He turned to his gatesmaster who had approached them by now, the few guards who had remained now taking hold of the wildling. “Take him to the dungeons I will deal with him later,” he gestured to the potential threat. “As to this lot, see to it they have nights watch for the next week.” He leveled one last glare at the group of men before heading back inside, intent on finding his wife.

Cregan was already planning his apology to his wife as he reached the hall that housed their chambers. As he walked down the hall, the guard that had escorted her earlier exited his chambers before taking his post just outside the door, sparking some level of unfounded jealousy.

As Cregan walked up to the door, the guard gave him a slight bow. “My lord,” he greeted. He did not reply, simply continuing toward the door, waiting for the guard to open it. But rather, he just spoke again, “The lady has asked me to inform you that she wishes to be left alone.”

Cregan stopped, looking incredulously at the guard. His words stung to hear. He had sworn an oath to protect his wife and had promised her parents that he would be a good husband and never hurt her. Yet here he stood, being barred from his wife by her own wish, with a man of his employ guarding her against him. The sentry looked deeply uncomfortable under his lord’s glare. He truly wanted to honor the wishes of his liege lady but her husband’s orders came first. Reluctantly he reached over, opening the door for the Lord of Winterfell.

Satisfied with his influence, Cregan strolled into his chambers, intending to begin the apology when he stopped short upon seeing the room empty. He turned to look at the guard as if to ask where his wife was. “Some maids escorted her to the maesters,” he informed nervously.

Cregan leveled yet another glare at the man before clenching his jaw and exiting the room, storming towards the maester. As the lord of Winterfell left, his guard briefly considered alternative employment.

Although Cregan had stormed towards the maester’s turret throughout Winterfell, he slowed as he approached the structure. Despite the guards posted outside holding the door open for him, he paused before the building, taking a breath. His wife’s scared expression flashed through his mind and that was a sight he never wanted to see again, yet he knew he would never forget it. The image made all the rage evaporate from him as he slowly entered the turret.

Ascending the stairs, he reached the healing room that he had often visited as a boy. Always having his training injuries and general wounds of boyhood treated here. Sat on the bench in only her shift and skirts was Cregan’s wife, having her arm bandaged in a way that held it to her chest, just as she had chosen to hold it.

Maester Kennet noticed the lord first, slowly halting his movements to look at the man. His wife turned to see the reason for the maester’s pause. She turned, finding her husband standing at the top of the stairs looking like a hollow version of himself. His face looked crestfallen as if he were informing them of a death.

Before she could snub him with a turned gaze, Cregan fell to a knee, his head bowed. “My lady, I truly do wish to apologize to you. I truly never meant to harm you,” he began, his voice dripping with a desire to be believed. “I swore an oath to protect you, as that was all I was trying to do. But instead, I hurt you, and that is a failure I will carry with me until my grave. I understand if you are unable to forgive me, I was being brash and absentminded. But all I ask is that I may be near you.” He looked up slowly, meeting his wife’s gaze. He could not read anything from it aside from pain.

Cregan had felt the pain of wounds of war before, but nothing hurt more than when his wife turned to look at Maester Kennet. But she only whispered a dismissal before looking back to her husband again. Cregan stood eagerly as the man’s hands gently left his wife’s shoulder before he approached his lord. The aging man paused beside Cregan, patting his shoulder momentarily before continuing down the stairs, leaving the couple in privacy.

Cautiously, Cregan approached his lady, once again crouching before her. “I truly am sorry,” he repeated. His wife said nothing as her gaze fell to her lap. But she turned her non-bound hand over in her lap, inviting his hand in hers. Cregan took it eagerly, his other hand going to her face to brush her hair aside as he gently grasped it. “I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you too,” she cried, falling into him. Cregan caught her, careful of her shoulder as he held her close, even pressing a kiss to the injured area as if promising to care for her.

He continued to hold her and continued to apologize. “I truly did not intend to harm you. I just saw you standing with that wildling, unguarded and all I knew was that I had to get you away from him.”

A comforting hand in his hair soothed him, halting his words. “I know,” she assured. “Maester Kennet explained why you were so upset. I apologize for not being more cautious. I just felt he was being treated unjustly.”

Cregan pulled away only enough to look at his wife, nodding in understanding. “You have a large heart,” he commended. “And it is my job to protect it. Sometimes I get carried away with it.”

The lady smiled, “Well I don’t suppose I can fault you for that.”

Cregan smiled at her forgiveness, once again holding her close. With all forgiven, he gained a teasing lilt to his voice. “Did you send that guard to our chambers to intentionally mislead me?”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, the teasing lilt finding her voice as well. But she attempted to distract from it with a stroke against his back. “I was quite irritated with you.” Cregan just chucked, the rumble of his laugh soothing his wife as they fell back into normalcy.

Masterlist

[covenofagatha]

hiiii <33

Could you write something about Agatha being a little insecure about being older than the reader?

Maybe they're at a party and someone the reader's age is going to talk to her and Agatha feels jealous and a little insecure, but pretend not to feel anything?

Then they go home and the reader shows Agatha that she loves her more than anything :)

If it's not too much to ask, the reader could have an obsession with Agatha's breasts and... really like eating her out? (like, a *really* big obsession) (sorry, Mrs Fletcher is on my mind a lot lately)

sorry for the details, lol, this came to me in the middle of the night

and by the way, I love your writing <33 you write very well

and I'm looking forward to the but you are my stepmother update :D

kisseess <3

I may have changed the setting a little bit (I've been watching Succession and was influenced lol) but hopefully you like! Also, Mrs. Fletcher literally changed my life so I completely understand

I combined this one with another request for being obsessed with Agatha’s breasts

Happy New Year to everyone!

Glitter on the floor

When Agatha gets jealous at the company New Year's Eve party, you remind her that she has nothing to worry about

Word count: 4300

Warnings: oral sex, oral fixation, breast fixation, marking

“Do you think anyone would notice if we just leave before the party even starts?” You ask, throwing a stress ball up in the air and catching it without even looking. 

You’re laying on your back on the couch in Agatha’s office and she snorts from her seat at her desk. 

Unlike you, when Agatha said she was going up to her office to quickly read over a contract before the company New Year’s Eve party, she meant it. You had just followed her up here to see if she was willing to get up to any funny business. 

“You don’t think they would notice that the CEO and General Counsel of the company aren’t at the company party?” Agatha asks amusedly, sarcasm dripping from her tone. 

Spellbound Network is a multi-billion dollar news conglomerate that Agatha Harkness is the Chief Executive Officer of. She’s absolutely ruthless and doesn’t hesitate before tearing anybody and everybody down. Nothing will stand in her way of world domination. 

As General Counsel, you’re a little less important, but you know that Agatha is right. The last thing you need is people speculating. 

The two of you have been involved in a more than professional relationship for seven months now. It all started when you offered to stay late to help her finish up with some end-of-quarterly reviews before the deadline and the two of you had ended up going out for drinks when you had finally finished. Agatha had let her hair down and told you just how stressed she was, and you had stupidly told her that you could help her relieve some of that stress. 

She had raised an eyebrow and you had taken it as a challenge. The next thing you knew, she was calling a car and the two of you were making out in the backseat on the way to her penthouse. 

It had grown into a relationship, a relationship that no one else in the office knew about. Things were getting pretty serious, and Agatha had even brought up you moving in with her. 

But you roll your eyes anyway. “It’ll be boring,” you drag out the last word slowly, sitting up to face her. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to your place, or even just stay up here?” You give her an impish grin and a wink. 

It’s a lost cause. Agatha has never let you touch her nor has she touched you in the office. 

She fixes you with a glare. “If you’re not going to behave, you can go downstairs and help set up for the party.” 

You hum in acquiescence and you’re about to resume your position on your back when Agatha leans forward and props herself up on her elbows, pushing her visible cleavage together. 

Your mouth runs dry. She’s wearing a long black dress with a low neckline that puts her breasts — that you may or may not be obsessed with — very much on display. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did it to tease you. 

“Agatha,” you whine, trying to sound pathetic so she’ll take pity on you. You can practically taste her skin with how badly you want her. 

She knows what you’re thinking, as always. “Stop,” she says without even looking up from her desk. “You aren’t going to goad me into touching you. Hasn’t worked any other time, isn’t going to work now.” 

You pout. “What are you talking about? I’ve never tried to.” It’s a bold-faced lie and you both know it. 

“Oh yeah?” She asks, at last looking up at you. “So when you got me that vibrator for the Secret Santa at the Christmas party, ‘not realizing that it was a public gift swap’; that wasn’t an attempt to work me up? Or when you just happen to come in here almost every day and knock over my pens so you have to bend down and shake your ass in my face?” 

You can’t help but chuckle at the reminders of your brazenness. To be fair, you had genuinely thought that the Secret Santa swap would be done in a group but then the gifts would be opened alone. And much to your surprise, you were wrong and when Rio Vidal, the head of Human Resources, had announced that it was time for everyone to open their gifts, you had quickly dragged Agatha upstairs, making some excuse about a phone call about a breaking news story. 

She had been furious at almost having to open your gift in front of the entire staff, and instead of having a very Merry Christmas Eve, courtesy of your generous gift and a well-placed bribe to the person who had actually drawn Agatha in the swap, she hadn’t touched you at all that night. 

But Christmas Day was much better, when she had put you on your knees for almost an hour and you made her cum four times with just your mouth. 

“You’re not letting those go anytime soon, are you?” You mutter. 

She throws a paper clip at you. “Go downstairs and stop bothering me,” she orders, fondness still in her voice. 

You huff a big sigh, one that tells her that just because you’re obeying doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, and walk over to place the paper clip and stress ball back on her desk. You straighten out your own dress, a long maroon one, and lean over to press a chaste kiss to her lips. 

To your surprise, she lets you do it and she even deepens it, flicking her tongue against the entrance to your mouth. When she pulls away, her eyes are dark and you’re about to ask her to reconsider, but she ushers you away with her hand and turns back to the contract. 

There’s not very many people in the lobby where the party is taking place, so you stand alone at a table and accept a glass of champagne from a waitress. It’s only ten pm and you know most of the staff won’t get here until closer to midnight, which would’ve been smart. 

If only Agatha hadn’t insisted that you and her come in for the entire day and get ahead of all the stuff that’s coming up in the new year. She didn’t even let you go back to your apartment once you both had finished, instead letting you shower in her private adjoining bathroom. 

And she wonders why you’re already so bored; you’ve been at the office for fourteen hours. 

Still at least two more to go. 

You take another glass of champagne and set it down next to your already half-empty glass. You’re going to need it once more people start showing up. 

It’s not that you don’t like them, it’s just that…if the building was on fire, you’d only really think or care about saving Agatha. 

“Hey there, General Counsel,” Rio says, slinking up to you. 

You smile. She’s an oddball, but her wry sense of humor sometimes is the only thing that gets you through business trips. Besides Agatha, of course. 

And it’s not exactly a secret that she has a bit of a crush on you. On paper, it would make more sense than you and Agatha. Rio is your age, and for all intents and purposes, doesn’t have any power over you, nor you her. 

But you’re in love with Agatha, and older women have always been more your type anyway. You’re perfectly happy with being friends with Rio, and it seems that Rio is content with your relationship now too. 

“Hey, Rio,” you greet, lifting your glass in a silent toast to her. She lifts up the other one and smoothly downs it in one gulp. 

And then the elevator dings and Agatha steps out and you forget all about Rio and everyone else. Your eyes follow her as she glides through the lobby, not even looking at you once, and she picks up a plate of caviar while the Chief Financial Officer, Jimmy, goes to talk to her. 

Rio taps her fingers to the rim of the empty glass. “So, I heard Harkness is thinking about acquiring Hex Industries for better tech.” 

“Water cooler gossip,” you say dismissively, not wanting to talk anymore business for the day. You’ve done enough with that with Agatha. And then you lower your voice conspiratorially. “But I did hear that Jimmy got divorced again?” 

It sends Rio into a fit of giggles and the two of you swap the details you’ve heard from various people and try to piece together what really happened. It does make the party go by faster and before you know it, there’s only about an hour before midnight. 

You cannot wait to go home with Agatha and forget all about work and this party and just focus on her. Ever since she changed into the dress she’s wearing tonight, you haven’t been able to focus with how delicious her breasts look in it. 

Some might call it an oral fixation, some might call it mommy issues, but there’s no denying how much you love to suck on her nipples. And to eat her out. 

Fuck. You can’t be thinking about that. Rio is saying something, something now about Tony, the Chief Operating Officer, and you’re shifting your weight thinking about the sounds Agatha makes when you get your mouth on her. 

You look around the room and you find her, standing alone, nursing her own glass of champagne. But what startles you is that she’s already watching you with a strange look on her face. You give her a small smile, your heart filling with adoration for the older woman, but she looks away. 

“Will you excuse me for a second?” You say to Rio, who nods. You walk over to Agatha and slide up next to her, your hand brushing against her lower back. “You okay?” You murmur into her ear. 

Agatha clears her throat and rolls her shoulders back and you have to make a pointed effort not to stare at her boobs that get pushed forward. “Just ready for this party to be over,” she says, voice clipped. 

“Oh yeah?” You whisper, cocking an eyebrow. “What do you have planned for when we get home?” 

She looks at you, finally looks at you, and you can see a guarded look in her eye. “We’ve had a long day, and this party won’t be done until after midnight. I’ll probably turn in.” 

“Oh, Mommy, your age is showing,” you tease mockingly in a hush, wearing a dramatic pout, another joke about how much older she is that she usually rolls her eyes at and then makes a comment about how much you like it.  

But she stiffens today. “Well, you’re more than welcome to go home with Rio if you want someone your own age.” The retort hits you like a punch in the gut and you’re left dumbfounded as she walks away, heels clacking on the floor. 

Is she…jealous? Surely Agatha can’t be, she knows how much you want her and love her. She knows how willing you are to show her. 

And maybe, just maybe, she’ll let you remind her right now. 

You check your watch. Forty-five minutes until midnight. You can feel her gaze from across the room, but when you try to make eye contact, she pretends like she isn’t looking at you, and you make the executive decision to try something that will probably backfire. 

Pulling out your phone, you pretend to take a call. You can feel her air shift; she knows that if someone’s calling you this late, it must be something urgent. You nod like you’re listening and then after a minute or two, you put your phone down. 

You meet her eyes and tilt your head toward the elevator, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. This could backfire. She could get so mad at you. 

But you have to try. 

Agatha excuses herself from the small group of people that have congregated around her table and she follows you into the elevator. 

“Who was that? What’s wrong?” She demands, and you almost feel bad for making her this panicked. 

You shake your head. “Just wait until we get to your office.” You think it should be a hint, but she doesn’t pick up on it. Instead, Agatha chews on her bottom lip and tosses her hair back over her shoulders. 

The doors ding open on the sixtieth floor and Agatha trails behind you, hot on your heels, as you take her to her office. You tell her to get on the couch while you draw the blinds to the glass windows facing the interior of the building, just in case anyone should happen to walk by. The television is on outside in the hallway and you can faintly hear the sounds of the New York Ball Drop show. A little over thirty minutes left. 

“What is going on?” Agatha asks again, clearly exasperated by you dragging this out. 

You turn around and almost moan at the sight of her sitting with her knees pulled up under her and her elbow propped up on the couch. This time, you really can’t help your gaze from darting down to her breasts and she snaps her fingers to get you to focus. “Rio’s just a friend,” you say bluntly, and Agatha scoffs. 

“What does this have to do with anything?” 

You slowly walk over and kneel down in front of her, pulling her legs out so that her feet are on the floor and you rest your chin on her knee and look up at her through your eyelashes. “There wasn’t a call,” you confess, already wincing on the inside at how she’s going to react. Her face remains stoic. “You were bothered by Rio and I talking.” It’s a statement, not a question. 

But Agatha jeers. “Is this your excellent counsel that I pay you so much for? That I’m bothered? Don’t think I don’t know about the little crush she has on you.” 

“So what if she has a crush? I don’t like her like that. You know I only have eyes for you,” you say, slowly inching the hem of her dress up her legs, waiting to be rejected. 

Her hand slides up your head and fastens into your hair, tilting you back so you can look straight at her. “Oh yeah?” She asks, daring, challenging you to go further. 

 You swallow hard. “Let me show you?” You offer timidly, praying it’s the right answer and you’re not reading this wrong. 

Agatha growls, a guttural noise deep in her throat, and she yanks you up and kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth and you moan at the feeling, settling into her lap with your legs on either side of hers. She tugs at your hair and the sting makes you keen, only making you need her more. 

You can’t even wait, you’ve been on edge for too long, and you trail your lips down her neck, scrape your teeth against her collarbone, and then she helps you take the straps of her dress off. 

The second her breasts are free, you’re on them like you’re starving and they’re your salvation. You cup both of them with your hands, feeling the sturdy weight of them, and you knead softly, running your thumbs over both nipples. The dusky rose color stands out against her pale skin and you watch with fascination as her nipples harden under your gentle touch. Part of you still can’t believe she’s letting you touch her in the office. 

Not that you’re complaining. 

You swoop down and take one into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the little bud, and Agatha’s back arches off the couch as her fingers dig into your hair to keep you there. You’ve never felt more content in your life than like this, and you happily suck on her as the most delicious sounding noises fall out of her mouth. 

Her free hand finds your hip just as your fingers tug at her nipple that isn’t being occupied by your mouth and you can make out what she wants. Without moving away from her, you shift and place a leg in-between hers, able to feel the heat radiating from her pussy through her underwear and dress. 

“Fuck,” you mutter brokenly when she grinds up against your knee and you can feel just how wet she is. 

Agatha huffs out a chuckle. “You love sucking on Mommy’s tits so much, don’t you?” She asks and you switch sides and hum against her skin. “Mommy loves it, too.” 

You groan and take a break from directly stimulating her, instead, opting to lightly bite at the skin around her nipples, taking extra care to mark the curvature under them. She’s especially sensitive there, and her little gasps only spur you on. 

After you’ve left sufficient proof that you were there, you pull back and admire your work and you sharply inhale. Her breasts are absolutely painted with red marks that will surely fade into bruises by tomorrow and her chest heaves, a ragged look in her eyes. Agatha is still undulating against your leg and you can visibly tell how turned on she is. 

“Am I convincing you yet?” You ask, your voice coming out a little hoarse, and Agatha barks out a laugh. 

Her wicked grin has a thrill running inside you and she shifts underneath you until you figure out what she is trying to do. It’s a bit awkward, but she manages to turn her body so that her legs are on the couch horizontally but you’re still on top of her. 

She hums thoughtfully. “Think I might need a little more. If you’re willing, that is.” 

Only too willing. You can’t help yourself from leaning down and giving her a hard kiss, pulling away and sucking one nipple and then the other roughly until she moans, and then you move down her body and bunch up her dress at her hips. You put your hands on her shins and guide her legs up so they’re bent, her heels on the couch. 

And then you settle between her open legs and mouth at her sopping cunt through her underwear. A groan tears out of you before you can stop it at tasting the wet fabric, thick with her scent which you’ve become addicted to. You suck on her underwear, pulling the moisture out of it, and Agatha jerks underneath you. 

“We don’t have all day, pet,” she says tightly and you can hear the television outside saying there’s fifteen minutes left until New Year’s Day. 

You chuckle at her impatience and finally pull down her underwear. You wish your dress had pockets so you could store it for later, but you made do for just throwing it somewhere in her office. 

And then you drag your tongue up her slit and absolutely lose yourself in the taste. There’s something so indistinguishable and indescribable about it, and you lazily explore her pussy, getting as much of her wetness as you can into your mouth. You vaguely realize that she’s wrapped a leg over your shoulder and her heel is digging in, the sting only turning you on more. 

Small gasps are pulled out of Agatha’s mouth and her hips buck, trying to get more stimulation, but to no avail as you are completely focused on just licking her slowly. You moan into her and the vibrations make her whimper, but you almost don’t even hear it. This is your favorite place on earth, between her legs, and you don’t want to ever leave. She’s so warm and wet and responsive against your tongue and you fucking love it. Love getting her wetness all over your face, love feeling her clench around your tongue, love the taste and smell and how she reacts when you lap at her clit. 

You do that now, and her thighs tighten around your head and she sighs like she’s finally getting some of the relief that she needs. 

“I love your pussy,” you say, but the words are garbled. She lets out a muffled sound and you look up through hooded eyes to see her head strewn back in pleasure, dark hair fanned out beneath her, bottom lip between her teeth, and her fingers tweaking her raw nipples. The sight makes you moan against her again and her hips jump. 

She looks down to meet your gaze and you feel the fire inside you only being stoked more when you realize that almost all the blue in her eyes is gone, entirely swallowed up by dark desire. “Please,” she begs, sounding more needy than she ever has since you’ve started sleeping with her. “Mommy needs this so bad.” 

And the only thing you love more than tasting her with your mouth is making her cum with your mouth. 

So you oblige, thrusting your tongue inside her and almost losing all composure when her walls flutter around it. She lets out a loud whine when your nose brushes against her clit and you keep doing that, curling your tongue inside her and moving your head up and down so she can get some desperately needed stimulation to her clit. 

“Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good,” she practically sobs, and you can feel her throb. She never takes long, which is almost a shame because you’d stay between her legs forever if you could. Building her up, feeling her legs tremble around you, that’s half the fun right there. 

But she needs it, and you can hear that it’s getting closer to midnight. Only a few minutes left. 

You double the intensity, dragging your tongue over her clit again and again, feeling it pulse. You slip a hand between your own legs and groan at the wetness you find, fingers strumming at your own clit through your dress and soaked panties. Nothing gets you more turned on than Agatha’s pussy in your mouth, absolutely coating your face. 

She’s pinching her nipples now and you almost lose your rhythm from wishing you were the one doing that to her, but you don’t falter. Wetness is dripping out of her cunt onto the couch below and you almost smirk at the thought of seeing the stain tomorrow.  

Agatha better let you fuck her in her office more often. You clench at the thought of being under her desk, eating her out while she’s going through contracts or in a meeting or having lunch. Anytime you can. 

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” she chants and you can hear the minute countdown start. You lick and suck and nip and her hips are moving furiously, grinding on your face and you can’t breathe but you don’t even care because she tastes so fucking good. 

“Five…four…” You shove your tongue inside her and curl it up, stroking against the spongy spot that makes her gasp. “Three..two…” You scrape your teeth against her clit and she keens. “One…Happy New Year!” 

You suck her clit into your mouth hard and that does it. She goes flying over the edge, wetness gushing out onto your face, and you blissfully lick her through her orgasm, not even realizing that she’s too sensitive until she’s tugging at your hair, pulling you away from her. 

She brings you in for a kiss, a tradition when the clock strikes midnight on January First, but also something she always does when you eat her out, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips, and you don’t even care that you haven’t cum yet. You clasp her cheeks and your tongue sweeps into her mouth until you finally have to break apart to breathe. 

“What a way to start the new year,” you joke and she laughs and fluffs her hair. She looks like a thoroughly-fucked mess, but also the hottest you’ve ever seen. You soften and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “You know I love you, right? I don’t care about how old you are, you know I fucking love that. You don’t have to worry about Rio, or anyone else, no matter if they’re my age or not. I want you and only you.” 

Agatha smiles and kisses you again, and then kisses your nose. “I want all your midnight kisses, baby. I love you too.” It’s the most romantic thing she’s ever said. 

And of course you immediately have to ruin it with a joke. “Office sex isn’t that bad, hm?” She pokes your side and you giggle. 

“Let’s get back downstairs before anyone notices that we’ve been gone for so long,” she says. 

You whine but reluctantly get off her when she pats your hips and she finds her underwear that was thrown to the ground. You both fix your make-up in the mirror and then you’re back in the elevator, descending the sixty floors. If anyone asks, you’ll say it was an emergency with an acquisition. But you doubt anyone will. The champagne is flowing and it’s a party. 

Before the doors open, Agatha takes your hand, squeezes it three times as if to say I love you and then there’s a ding and it’s back to reality. 

But she gives you a wink meant only for you when she toasts to the company and all the good things yet to come and a warm feeling fills you. 

What a way to start the new year, indeed. 

[minniesmutt]

No idea if you're taking requests or ideas right now but I just thought of this and I think it would come out really well if you were the one who wrote it. ChanLix threesome with Lix in the middle of fem!Reader and Chan. His deep groans would be so so so amazingly perfect. Anyway, I know you're busy with other wips and requests and just life in general so if you do eventually decide to take this on, thanks. Take care of yourself and have a good day/night 🩷

Ps. I love your work and it inspired me to start posting my writing on here and I'm all the better for it and I never got the chance to tell you how your incredible writing skills have impacted me in such a positive way so thank you for sharing your writing with us on this hell site

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: CHAN X READER X FELIX ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP (READER AND CHAN), SWITCH!READER, DOM!CHAN, SUB!FELIX, THREESOME, MXM ACTION (forgive me if it’s terrible), TEASING, MOMMY/DADDY KINK, PRAISE, NIPPLE PLAY, MARKING, DRY HUMPING, TIT SUCKING. FINGERING (V. AND A.), FINGER SUCKING, ORAL SEX (F. & M. REC), FACE SITTING, HAND JOB, CUM EATING, OVERSTIM, PROTECTED SEX (V. AND A.), MULTIPLE ORGASMS, SUBSPACE (?), AFTERCARE ☾ ━━━ WC: 3.1K ☾ ━━━ NOTE: we don't talk about how long this sat in my drafts before I actually started working on it... also, I'm so glad I have inspired you annonie 🥲 ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Y/n always enjoyed her relationship with Chan, everything was always great, even in bed. But when you've been with someone so long, and share desires and fantasies you think you'll never get when it comes to a long-term relationship, one or more parties start to wonder.

     "Hey baby," Chan said as he walked out of the bathroom and into their bedroom.

     “Yes, love?” Y/n asked

     "Do you remember when we were talking about sexual fantasies when we first got together?" the producer asked, lying on their bed facing her.

     "Is that why you were in the shower for so long?" Y/n teased him as she set down her phone.

     "I wasn't in there that long," Chan defended himself. “But I was thinking about it when I was in there."

     "What exactly?" Y/n asked as she scooted over to him.

     "Remember how you said you've wanted to try domming, but I've never given you a chance to?" 

     "Yeah. Finally going to put down the controls and let me dom you?" 

     “Let me finish,” Chan said before she got too excited, “And how both wanted to try a threesome at least once?”

     “What are you getting at, Christopher?”

     “Do you want the long or the short version?”

     “There’s two versions?” Y/n was very interested in this now. 

     “Which one do you want?” Chan asked again

     “Short?”

     “Was talking with Felix and he agreed to both.”

     “Long version because what the fuck does that mean?”

     “Felix and I were talking earlier today and he was kind of complaining —“

     “Felix complained?”

     “Yeah. But you remember the girl he was seeing for a bit?”

     “Yeah. The one none of us liked.”

     “Correct. I guess she told Felix she liked experimenting in the bedroom and it turns out it was only with things she wanted. So he had asked her once to dom him and she flat out refused.”

     “Bitch.”

     “Yeah. That led me to say how you’ve always wanted to try but I have a hard time giving up control in the bedroom then I don’t know how we got on the topic of threesomes but eventually I asked if he was okay with it, I would talk to you and see if you were okay with a threesome between me, you, and Felix.”

     “He’s okay with it?”

     “One hundred percent.”

     “We’ll need rules.”

     “Should I call him?”

     “Yeah.”

     It was an interesting conversation. Never did Y/n think they would find someone willing to indulge her and her boyfriend. Especially one of their close friends. The three ended up having a pretty long conversation about boundaries, safe words, hard no’s, all of it. Y/n could tell Felix was excited, to say the least. Part of him was really glad he confided that information to Chan. Originally he just wanted someone to vent to and who better than Chan?

     The younger Aussie did feel like he was in a fever dream when Chan offered to talk to his girlfriend about it. Felix knew that Chan could be a little possessive of his girlfriend in a good way. So a threesome was the last thing he expected from him. But now it was real. 

     He and Chan had driven back to his and Y/n’s together. It wasn’t awkward in the car but he felt a little nervous when the two idols entered the house. Y/n was cleaning up their kitchen when the two walked in after setting their things down. 

     “Hey,” Y/n greeted the two.

     “Hey,” Chan said as he came around their counter and kissed her lips

     Y/n picked up on Felix’s nerves, “You okay, Lix?”

     “Yeah,” He answered as he sat at their bar

     “He’s been nervous since we got in the car,” Chan teased

     “I have not,” Felix defended

     “It’s okay Lix,” Y/n giggled, “It’s new for everyone involved.”

     The younger one watched as she came around the counter to him. His eyes darted from her to Chan. Chan just watched as his girlfriend cupped the other idol's face and pressed her lips to his. Smiling to himself when he heard the boy whimper into her mouth. Walking around to stand behind the Aussie, hands grabbing his waist.

     He watched as Y/n pulled away and Felix chased her lips. Giggling behind him, “She’s good at that,” he said, pressing his lips to his neck.

     “Don’t tease him too much,” Y/n told her boyfriend as she ran her fingers through Felix’s long hair.

     “Why not?” Chan asked, “He wants more of those pretty lips, don’t you, Lixie?”

     Felix nodded as he looked up at Y/n. “Words Lix. Closed mouths don’t get fed, right?”

     “Please kiss me, mummy,” Felix said without a second thought

     “Mummy, huh?” Y/n asked him, a smile on her lips

     “Does that make me daddy?” Chan questioned

     “Sorry. It just—” Felix stammered.

     “It’s okay Lix. Chan has a daddy kink anyways,” Y/n giggled, pecking his lips again. “You don’t have to apologize.”

     “Just let mummy and daddy take care of you tonight, okay baby boy?” Chan said as he slipped his hands under the other boy’s sweater and shirt. Warm hands on Felix’s stomach.

     “Okay,” Felix agreed

     “Good boy,” Y/n said as she pressed her lips to his.

     Felix moaned into her mouth as he felt Chan’s lips sucked on the skin behind his ear. Hands moving up his torso and fingers lightly pinching his nipples. He could feel both of them smiling at his reaction. Y/n’s own hands ran down from his hair to the waistband of his sweats. Hand running over the bulge in his pants.

     “Think we should make our baby boy more comfortable, mama?” Chan asked

     Y/n pulled her lips away from Felix’s and looked at the older Australian. “We should.” She agreed. Y/n took the younger man’s hand and pulled him up to their bedroom. Chan followed behind them.

     Felix was almost in a daze from everything. It was honestly— at where they were at currently— better than he imagined. Especially as Y/n sat him on the edge of the bed and helped him out of his shirt and sweater. Chan stood behind her and Felix watched as he pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her without a bra in front of him. He could see a few vague hickey marks on her neck that he knew were Chan’s doing. The dancer blubbing like a fish. He hadn’t even noticed till now but he figured she hadn’t worn a bra in her own home. 

     Chan smiled at Felix as he turned his girlfriend’s head towards him and kissed her lips briefly. His other hand pushed one of her legs between Felix’s— her knee pressing right against his hard cock. Y/n looked down at him and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him closer to her. “Feeling okay, baby?” Y/n asked as she brushed a few streaks of hair out of his face.

     “Yes, mummy.”

     “Been staring at mummy’s pretty tits?” Chan teased

     “Mhm,” Felix nodded

     “Taste good too,” Chan added as he bit her shoulder

     “Can I…” Felix started

     “Can you what, bub?” Y/n asked

     “Can I taste?” Felix asked

     “Of course you can.”

     Felix didn’t waste another second. His lips wrapped around one of her nipples while one hand groped her other boob. Chan smiled as he captured his girlfriend’s lips in his and pushed his tongue past her lips. Y/n moaned into his mouth as Felix sucked on her nipples and slowly ground against her knee between his legs.

     “Lixie making you feel good, mama?” Chan asked

     “Mhm,” Y/n hummed in response.

     Chan’s hand slid past the waistband of her lounge pants. Fingers gently rubbing between her folds and collecting her slick. Chan chuckled to himself as Y/n leaned her head back against his shoulder. Her fingers grabbed the roots of Felix’s hair as Chan’s fingers dipped into her aching hole. Slowly moving in and out of her then making eye contact with Felix in front of them. His eyes softened with one of her boobs in his mouth still as he looked up at Chan.

     The producer pulled his fingers out of her and her pants. He gently pulled Felix’s head back, leaving his mouth hanging open after he unlatched from her nipple. Chan slipped the fingers that were in her cunt into his mouth. Resting them on his tongue and watching his mouth close. His eyes almost crossed as he sucked the juices off his fingers.

     “Mummy taste good?” Y/n asked him

     “Yes,” Felix said with Chan’s fingers in his mouth

     “Wanna taste mummy yourself?” Chan asked

     “Mhm,” Felix said

     “Words, baby.” Chan reminded him

     “Yes, please.”

     “Good boy,” Chan said and slipped his fingers out of his mouth and helped Y/n out of her bottoms. Felix laid back on their bed and watched as Chan slowed off her clothes and his shirt.

     “Want mummy on your face?” Chan asked him

     “Yes please,” Felix responded

     Y/n grabbed one of their pillows and placed it under Felix’s head before climbing on top of him, legs on either side of his head. The dancer’s hands grabbed the tops of her thighs as his tongue slipped into her. Moaning as her taste touched his tastebuds.

     Chan watched for a moment as his girlfriend rode his friend’s face. Both of their moans filled the bedroom. His dick was already aching and the sight before him made him harder as he pulled Felix’s sweats and boxers off him. The younger one’s dick springing up the moment it was out of its confines. Tip leaking with pre cum. 

     Chan leaned down and licked the pre cum that dribbled down his length and out from his tip. Felix shaking a little from the contact. Chan chuckled and swallowed the precum before standing straight up and opening the drawer to their dresser. He pulled out a couple of condoms and their lube. Setting all the items on the bed. 

     The oldest grabbed the lube and squirted some on his finger. Pushing up Felix’s legs and exposing him to Chan. He took his libed finger and gently pushed the digit inside him. Taking his time getting in so Felix could get used to it before finally letting himself properly finger the man’s ass. Working slowly as he moaned into his girlfriend’s cunt. Y/n looked back at Chan, seeing him prepping the younger one. 

     Felix was so involved im pleasing the woman on top of him that it was easier for Chan to slip in and out of him. He had to pull away from Y/n for a moment a couple of times to beg Chan to pick up the pace and slip a second finger in. Chan’s fingers were longer and thicker than Felix’s. 

     The rapper wasn’t afraid to admit he’d fingered himself quite a bit when jacking off. It felt good but when someone else did it for you it felt better. Places he typically couldn’t reach on his own were getting reached down and he could feel himself getting addicted to it. 

     Felix’s hands gripped Y/n’s thighs tighter as his nose nudged her clit as she rolled her hips against his face. Chan’s fingers pumping in and out of him. His hips twitched desperately. Chan could see his dick twitching and wrapped his free hand around his shaft, pumping him in time with his fingers inside him. The producer watched both his girlfriend and friend fall apart, one right after the other. He smiled as Felix’s cum landed on his hand and the Aussie’s stomach. Twitching under him and Y/n while Y/n gripped his long black hair and Felix drank up her cum.

     Y/n climbed off him once both had come down from the highs and looked back at her boyfriend, fingers still in Felix. Felix himself looked down at Chan and moaned as the older man’s fingers scissored his hole. Y/n grabbed her boyfriend’s other hand and licked the cum off his fingers then leaned down and cleaned the remaining cum off Felix’s stomach and cock.

     The dancer’s mouth fell open as he watched her swallow the cum then Chan pulled her in for a kiss. Once he pulled away from her, he pulled his fingers out of Felix. He whined a little at the emptiness. Y/n sat Felix up as Chan pulled his gym shorts and boxers off. Felix got a glimpse at his size before Y/n pulled into another kiss. He melted into her lips again. Moments later Chan pulled him off her lips and pressed his to Felix’s. A moment later his lips were gone Chan moved to sit back on the pillows behind them. Grabbing one of the condoms and rolled it down his length. One look at the younger Australian and Felix straddled his lap. Y/n was next to Felix and helped him adjust his knees so both the men were comfortable— Chan did turn Felix. Chan held the base of his cock as Y/n helped Felix lower himself down onto Chan. Watching his face contort in pleasure as his tip pushed into Felix’s tight hole. 

     “Big…” the younger one moaned.

     “Is daddy too big for you, baby?” Y/n asked as she cupped his face, Chan’s hands grabbing his hips and holding him still

     “No. Can take it…” Felix moaned 

     “You sure, baby?” Chan asked for confirmation

     Chan was on the bigger side for Felix. All he had done was have a couple of fingers in himself so having a cock in his ass was a new feeling. A good feeling. Once he was more comfortable, he took more of the leader. Both parts of the couple were very patient with him. Chan’s warm hands kept him still and rubbed his hip bones with his thumbs as Y/n held him and kissed his neck, cooing at how good he was doing for them.

     Once Felix was fully comfortable and took as much as Chan as he could, Chan pulled him against his chest. His turn to kiss his neck and shoulders again. He watched as Y/n moved down a bit and leaned down, taking Felix’s cock in her hand and stroking him.

     Felix moaned and practically threw his head back onto Chan’s shoulder. Chan slowly started thrusting in and out of Felix which just increased the volume of his moans. Especially when Y/n replaced her hand with her mouth.

     He looked back down to see Y/n looking up at him and Chan. Chan’s thrust pushed Felix’s cock into her mouth. Between the both of them,—from the foreplay and what they were doing to him now— Felix’s mind had all but stopped working. Turning to mush.

     Chan noticed, he always noticed everything. He pulled his girlfriend off his cock and motioned for her to straddle the both of them. He paused his thrusts for a moment and rolled a condom over his cock and helped her onto him. Keeping one of his hands on Felix’s waist and laced the fingers of his other hand with his girlfriends. Y/n leaned over the two and grabbed the headboard behind Chan. Holding herself up a bit and bounced herself up and down on Felix while Chan thrusted in and out of him. Both of them meeting in the middle occasionally.

      All three moaning in sync. The bedroom was filled with moans and skin slapping. Felix’s moans were the loudest of the three. The poor boy was fucked out of his mind now. The only thing was the pleasure that surrounded him. Nothing else was on his mind. Especially when he couldn’t handle it anymore and came into the condom he was wearing, cursing and shaking between the two of them. Both Chan and Y/n continued their movements as Felix rode out his high. Chan didn’t take long to cum after. Shoving himself into Felix and came into the condom he wore. 

     Y/n watched the two men lose themselves in the pleasure as she rode on top of them. Chan came out of it quicker than Felix and took his dominant hand, thumb pressing to her clit and helping her while she did her best to keep the rhythm. She was putty in Chan’s hands. He knew every motion to get her off quickly. All the quickies they’d have between his stages, practices, and even early in the morning before they had to work or he had a flight to catch, somehow always helped in his favor over the years. Especially now, he refused to let his girlfriend be unsatisfied, no matter what.

     He watched as she came apart on Felix’s cock, holding herself on the headboard while she rode out the high. Felix moaned as she clamped down on his softening cock. Chan smiled and helped his girlfriend off Felix before they both helped Felix to lie on their bed. Chan fought with his girlfriend about her letting him do all the aftercare work. She didn’t let him though.

     Y/n grabbed a few warm wet towels for them and returned to the bedroom. Chan had discarded both the condoms and when she came back. He took the towels from her and cleaned up Felix as she left to grab some water and a small snack for them. Chan ended up stopping her at the door, took the items from her and set them on the nightstand before cleaning her up himself and tucking her into one of their oversized shirts.

     “You left Felix all alone in our bed,” Y/n judged her boyfriend

     “I told him I had to clean up mummy and gave him one of your plushies for the time being,” Chan told her.

     “Did we fuck him into a sub-space?” Y/n asked

     “Maybe. He does what cuddles though,” Chan informed her.

     “So do I,” Y/n pecked her boyfriend’s lips and the two got back in the bed with their friend.

The couple got him to drink some water and eat a bit of the fruit she had brought up before he ended up falling asleep in their bed. The couple agreed to let him sleep in the bed with them, neither of them having an issue with it. Figuring they’d all talk about everything else in the morning. The two had managed to ask him a few things to make sure he wasn’t fully dropped in subspace. Mostly he was just tired and Y/n understood fully, and she knew Chan had gone a lot softer on Felix than he usually did with her. 

     She for sure was giving them both shit later once they were all rested. The couple drank their water and shared the snacks she’d brought up to get a bit of energy as Felix slept soundly between them.

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[livefromtheelephantsfoot]

I've had this sitting in my drafts for over a week bc I AGREE and I have SO many thoughts abt this.

I think one of the underlying reasons is a failure to engage with the fact that, to a lot of people at least, eugenics makes intuitive sense. I remember as a kid when I first had natural selection explained to me, and it didn't take much for me to wonder "huh, what does that mean for humans? does that mean it's a bad thing that we've insulated ourselves from stuff like disease?" (Obviously 8yo me wouldn't have said it like that, but I did wonder.) I'm almost afraid to point it out, but I really don't think it's just a me thing.

Later I learned abt Eugenics, that it was this bad evil thing that lead to genocide, and I was horrified. If I could empathize with the proponents of it, at least early on, what did that say about me? But it didn't actually answer my question. So now I had this first idea, evolution, that was obviously true and explained so much about the natural world, and this second idea that still seemed to naturally follow from it but was Bad. And I didn't know what to do with that.

And I started to notice how common the second idea was, too. The most pervasive thing I noticed was how common "Darwin Award" jokes are-- the joke, of course, being that people who die doing something stupid are making a positive contribution to the human gene pool. I don't really like those jokes. I ended up with the impression that eugenicists were right abt the human gene pool being a thing that we ought to be concerned about damaging, but they just went Too Far. You'll notice people who think this way disagree on where Too Far was. It made me uncomfortable that there could be an idea that was right, and if ignored would cause problems down the line, and at the same time acting on it was morally wrong, and everyone agreed it was a bad idea but only when called by a particular name--otherwise it's just common sense.

I don't think it was until high school that I started to understand that eugenics was, in fact, bad science. It makes sense with a surface level understanding of evolution, but the more in-depth you go, the more it falls apart. Artificial selection in dogs is such a great way to point this out. "It worked so well in dogs, why not try it in humans? Oh, wait..."

Eugenics requires the assumption that natural selection is at once a great and powerful force worthy of abandoning all morals in order to worship, while being so fragile that human civilization is at risk of overthrowing it within a couple hundred years.

Of course, the truth is that eugenicists weren't and aren't abandoning their real values in favor of what their understanding of natural selection would suggest. Eugenics was built on racism and ableism, and there is no escaping that. People latch on to ideas that validate their preexisting beliefs. You know what we can say, pretty confidently, about what's "healthy" genetically, for dog breeds and for humans? Variation. You'll notice that you don't see a lot of eugenicists advocating for interracial marriage. Even setting aside the (very important) ethical considerations for their methods, if eugenicists had their way, humanity would be barreling toward an artificial bottleneck that would REALLY fuck us over genetically.

Even that is missing nuance, though-- we're still in the realm of stick figure drawings. Genetics are really complicated. All this requires you to pretend that we fully understand what all of our genes even do, and we just don't. And that's ok! We do not, in fact, have to base public policy on whether G exists!

Natural selection is still happening to us, and if its slown down lately then I'd chalk that up to a global civilization mixing up our gene pool (which, again, is unambiguously a good thing from a genetic perspective) more than modern medicine helping disabled people have kids (which is not a new thing! we have been helping each other for millions of years). The human genome is not at risk of collapse.

We haven't even touched on poverty being a structural issue that requires people to exploit (ie, if all the poor people disappeared poverty wouldn't end, the next group up would be moved into their place) or the question of what mental health issues even ARE (I'm a proponent of the idea that, of the disorders/cases that are primarily caused by genetics, most are just the extreme ends of traits that are necessary to the general population and can't actually be removed-- extremely simplified example: everyone needs a sprinkle of neuroticism to function, sometimes someone gets a heavier dose and winds up with clinical anxiety, and every once and a while someone gets way too much and had OCD. even if environment weren't a factor at all, and even if anxiety were such a simplistic trait that we could track it with a very high degree of confidence, keeping the person with OCD from having kids wouldn't stop OCD from existing. they might be more likely to have kids with OCD, but them not having kids does nothing to the fact that OCD is a product of inherent variation that it would be a VERY bad idea to try to eliminate), or delving into IQ [even longer rant redacted].

I think sometimes people think eugenics is bad but its still true, like thinking that if people with certain traits have children it will change society for better or worse based upon what traits are promoted. I think its important to emphasize that eugenics is not only wrong morally it's also fake and stupid bullshit

Like eugenics was supposed to be based on the idea that "If it works with animals to select only the best ones to breed, why wouldn't it work with humans?"

well it doesn't work with animals, that's the thing. applying the eugenics ideas to domestic breeds of animals hasn't made better animals it's just made animals with more extreme expression of certain traits. turns out that when you decide which traits are the "best" and become obsessed with the genetic purity of the animals that have the "best" traits, you might well end up with some sad suffering creature like a Pug, or the Persian cats with the smashed faces that are in constant pain because their teeth and airways and brains are getting crushed by their skulls, or those meat chickens that grow so fast they can hardly even stand up after a few weeks old, or inbred race horses with tiny feet and fragile toothpick legs

like almost all traits are neither "good" or "bad" they're way more complex than that. a long tail or a long snout or a stubborn, independent personality can be good or bad depending on the situation. Who gets to decide what is a "good" trait or a "bad" trait? It's arbitrary and selecting for traits that are "good" in your opinion will often have both "good" and "bad" outcomes because the "good" and "bad" are part of each other and not separate its just part of being alive

Obviously oversimplifying everything but you get it. we did eugenics with dogs and how did that go? not very well

[tealvenetianmask]

Stolas Makes Decisions Alone

I'm here to predict more problems ahead for Stolas. But don't worry- I do think he'll get through them because of character growth.

Stolas has a pattern of taking drastic actions that he believes are right and getting so caught up in his own point of view that he doesn't really listen to anyone else. I don't think he realizes this about himself. As much as he's now dealing with the consequences of his decisions at the end of Season 2, he hasn't yet learned that he can't go it alone. That he needs to communicate with the people his decisions impact- namely Blitz and Octavia, the people he cares for most. What I'm saying is, even though he's not the only one, our lovely owl man is a misunderstanding factory.

As for why he's like this, I have some ideas, but first, let's quickly go over the ways we've seen this behavior play out in HB.

It's treated as kind of light in Season 1 . . . despite being great with words, he's a lousy communicator because he gets carried away with his own ideas.

In Murder Family, Stolas has no idea that Blitz is panicking and . . . yes, I believe feeling pressured in this moment, even if he likes the deal later. In Loo Loo Land, he doesn't pay attention to Octavia's (not subtle) reactions enough to realize that no, she does not want to go to Loo Loo, and she absolutely doesn't want to bring the person Stolas cheated with along as a bodyguard. Also . . . as soon as Stolas listens to Octavia here, their communication improves, and Octavia is allowed to decide on the next father daughter activity.

The independent decision making tendency becomes more serious . . . tragic . . . in The Full Moon.

Stolas goes into the episode with a plan to do what he believes is right (freeing Blitz from himself), and he's so set on it that he blindsides the guy and shuts him out at the first hint of rejection, unable to pay enough attention to realize that it's . . . not actually rejection, just another wounded person reacting to a sudden change, since the entire decision making process already happened inside Stolas's mind.

Okay . . . Mastermind and Sinsmas.

I'm letting him off the hook for Mastermind, because he had only seconds to do something to save Blitz's life. I don't think he's wrong here. BUT symbolically, in the courtroom, Stolas rarely looks at Blitz. Someone who loves him is standing behind him, and there are moments of recognition between them, but Stolas still faces the decision, and his fate, alone.

In Sinsmas, we get the most blatant version of this kind of decision making. Yes, I know he's off his meds and going through a lot. He could have waited a few more minutes for Blitz to get back and talked through his decision to march up to his palace and demand to see his daughter. Blitz could have helped him calm down, and they could've had a conversation and decided on the best way to do it.

But that isn't how Stolas makes decisions. It isn't how he's EVER made decisions. Helping Stolas would put Blitz in danger, or Blitz might try to convince him to wait. So in Stolas's mind, if it's a choice between being kept from his daughter and dying alone by Andrealphus's hand, well . . .

There's so much that could be discussed here. Medication/depression. Suicidality. Autism . . . does this pattern stem in part from difficulty reading social cues?

These are all topics worth analyzing but . . . here's one thing that I think is at the core of Stolas's character regardless of the situation or other factors.

Stolas had all of his decisions made for him for his entire life. No one consulted him. Ever. Not about his career. Not about his marriage. Not about how he would choose to behave and conduct himself in the world.

Then when he was somewhere between 18 and 20, he had a child. And suddenly, his decisions mattered. Not in the big ways for himself. He still had to carry out all of his responsibilities. But he could decide how to raise this kid (Stella wasn't really interested in raising her after all). He could do everything in his power to make her childhood joyful, to make her feel loved, to teach her that she could be herself.

The problem is, making decisions for a kid doesn't make you a great collaborative decision maker. Being a parent means being an authority. He wasn't totalitarian like his own father, but there wasn't really anyone to honestly talk through his decisions and process his emotions with. So he's spent 35ish years never making a decision with someone else.

He's also rich and powerful, and that both keeps him isolated and gives him . . . a somewhat outsized view of his own importance and ability to control situations, in my opinion.

But now Octavia is 17, and making decisions that impact her without adequately communicating doesn't really work anymore.

And the other person he loves is Blitz. And yes, Mastermind is an exception, but Blitz usually doesn't need to be rescued or protected. He certainly doesn't need to be protected from Stolas (i.e. The Full Moon). He needs a partner. And Stolas needs one too.

So yeah, until Stolas learns to communicate (or at least learns that it's necessary) I worry about what he'll go off and do on his own.

Note: please don't take this as me blaming EVERYTHING on Stolas. Blitz and Octavia both have some responsibility for the miscommunications that go on. I just think this particular tendency of Stolas's is interesting and wanted to explore it.

[theforestknowsmydreams]

there was even really big good stuff! it got a bit way too long, but it's also very happy, so i'm leaving it below

context: my family is messed up. i grew up with my mother, and she eventually forbid me from contacting my father (who then passed) and would never miss an opportunity to talk bad about his side of the family. before 2024, the last time i saw them was 2016.

i gathered all my courage, and sent them all an email. my dad's siblings, and his step-mom (my godmother). that email was also how i came out as trans to them all. i was terrified. not long after, they all responded. how they were so so happy to hear from me, how they would of course love to meet up someday, what a question, and using my correct name and pronouns.

we set the date for our first ever family reunion. late march, my father's birthday. it was so scary. i hadn't been to the city we were meeting in since 2018, when i (unsuccessfully) tried to locate my father's grave on my own. i was also going to share a hostel room with strangers, so you can imagine the sheer dread i felt.

coincidentally, a (at the time new) beloved mutual was going to be in the same city about a week prior, to go to see a band we both like live. he encouraged me to also go to the concert, and we shared a room in the same hostel i was gonna be in after he left the city again, so i got a chance to check out the vibes and get used to it.

the concert was absolutely amazing, i made a lot of new friends and acquaintances, just, 10/10. can't wait to do it again. it also gave me the confidence to later hit up my older brother, who lives in the same city and who i also had not seen since 2018.

my brother and i met, and it was perfect. now that we were both adults we could talk about topics he previously avoided, like our childhoods, things we went through, relationships, etc. we talked for over 6 hours until i went back to the hostel. both of us are still using the photo we took together as our whatsapp profile picture.

meeting my dad's family was a little more daunting, but the fear quickly disappeared. my godmother had brought an old photo album of me that my late grandfather had kept, and we went through the pictures together. there was a lot of pictures of me with my dad i had never seen, and they shared stories of my childhood with me that i didn't remember. we went to their graves (dad and grandpa are buried in the same plot) and i didn't have a breakdown. and for once i felt like they would be proud of me. we had food, and we talked, and my godmother gave me a book written by a trans person that she had found and read after i came out. it was great.

in october, i got an email. they were planning another family reunion because they liked the first one so much. this time it was only my father's siblings, because we were going to my late grandmother's home city (and my godmother is not in best health to travel). and, somehow, this one was even happier than the first one.

i was less scared, i guess. most of us stayed at the same hotel because it was only one night and not too expensive, but one of my aunts and her boyfriend (who i hadn't seen since i was a child) have a small camper so they didn't need to. we visited the old family grave and they taught me a lot about our family history, we walked about the city together, had dinner, all the good stuff.

and i felt... at home.

maybe not in that city, but with the people i was sharing this time with. i finally know what family is supposed to feel like. my mother's side of the family and i don't talk anymore, and while i deeply love my older brother, he moved out when i was 3, and we both got issues that make it harder for us to connect.

they asked about my transition, but avoided invasive questions. one time i commented on a mushroom growing in the park we were walking through and my aunt sighed and said "all the men in this family are obsessed with foraging". when i say or do something that reminds them of my father, they will stop and tell me, and ask if i want to hear a story about it.

one email. one email and countless hours or being too scared to send it, that's all it took. i am learning about my childhood, my heritage, my family, and what my future could be. this filled with love.

since then, i've made an effort to do scary things more often. at least when it comes to relationships. message my younger step-siblings that i haven't talked to since breaking all contact with my mother. say "i love you" more. ask friends to hang out more often (i'm still working on that one tbh). i emailed my paternal family for the new year and they said that "we are absolutely meeting again next year. maybe march again?"

it was scary but it was so worth it.

hey honest question, did anybody have GOOD stuff happen to them in 2024? cause it was really bad for me and for most people i know, so it would be nice to hear about anything that's been going WELL for any of you. even if it's small stuff. just to know there's light out there.

[rispwr]

⋆˙⟡ step by step #3 ❤︎ m.list

note : yes omg i cannotttt wait 😭😭 im impatient i know

contents : apearance of sir min yoongi (ugh he's so hot. giving so daddy vibes), teasing (male recieving), implied sex, not detailed sex, indenial reader, literature prof! jk,

wc : 1k?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Sunday

I had made the decision to let Jungkook stay at my apartment rather than moving to his. Not because I didn't want to be at his place, but because of his roommate. The last thing I wanted was to disturb them or feel like an inconvenience.

"What about your classes?" I asked as Jungkook unpacked his things, neatly arranging them in my small living room.

"I moved them to online," he replied without sparing me a glance, completely focused on what he was doing.

"So, you're gonna be here 24/7 then?" I pressed, half expecting him to snap at me by now.

But instead, he surprised me. "Of course I will," he said evenly, still not looking up.

Why won't he look at me??

I groaned in frustration, throwing my head back dramatically. "Ugh, you know what? I'm just going to the room."

As I tried to get up, my balance wobbled precariously, and before I could fully register what was happening, Jungkook was there.

"Ahhh- Aish- Y/N!" he scolded, his hands gripping my waist firmly as he caught me mid-trip.

I blinked up at him innocently. "You know you have a broken ankle, right?"

I nodded, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes (which might've been fuck-me eyes, depending on who you asked).

Jungkook let out an exasperated sigh. "Then what were you thinking? You—ugh, you know what? Just stay here." He carefully lowered me back onto the couch, pointing at me like I was a misbehaving child. "Stay. Right. There."

I crossed my arms, sinking into the cushions like a sulky kid. "I'm not a dog, Jeon Jungkook."

"Sure you are," he muttered under his breath, smirking as he turned back to his unpacking.

I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him. "I'm not the one who barks at me during—"

Before I could finish my sentence, he whipped around, fixing me with an annoyed but amused smile.

"You better behave while I finish setting up," he warned, pointing at me again like I was his student.

I stuck my tongue out at him, refusing to back down. "Is that what you say to your students?" I teased, my voice playful and mocking.

Jungkook shook his head with a grin, clearly trying to hide his growing annoyance. "You're impossible," he muttered, turning his attention back to his suitcase.

I giggled to myself, victorious, as I watched him struggle to ignore me.

Monday

Teasing Jungkook was turning into my new favorite pastime. Ever since yesterday, I couldn't stop poking fun at him- it was too easy, and his reactions were priceless.

This morning, I woke up to find him sitting on the bed next to me, setting up his laptop. His focus was entirely on the screen as he opened Zoom, quickly transforming into his professional teacher persona.

I slowly blinked, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes while watching him work. I'd be lying if I said he wasn't hot when he was in teacher mode. The way his brows furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly pursed. 

it was distracting.

He could teach me a few things too...

The thought crept in before I could stop it. I groaned inwardly, rolling my eyes at myself.

But what really made it worse was that he was sitting there in just boxers and a slightly oversized white t-shirt. Like, seriously? Did he have to look like that first thing in the morning?

"Alright, class," Jungkook's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "For the next three days, I'll be teaching you through online sessions. After that, a substitute teacher will take over temporarily."

"Aww, it's such a shame we won't get to see you, Mr. Jeon," one of his students whined through the screen.

I froze. My eyes narrowed at his laptop. Excuse me?

Why does she need to see him? And why does it bother me? I didn't like the strange, twisting feeling in my chest, and I definitely wasn't planning to analyze it.

Instead, an idea popped into my head.

Was it crazy? Absolutely. Was it a good idea? Probably..... not.

But that didn't stop the mischievous smirk spreading across my face.

Jungkook was definitely going to curse me out for this later, but I couldn't resist.

Jungkook was mid-sentence when you made your move, slipping quietly beneath the duvet. He froze for a moment, his eyes darting downward, disbelief flickering across his face. His lips parted as if to say something, but he quickly muted himself, leaning down just slightly.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, his voice a hushed mixture of panic and warning.

"Shhh," you whispered back, your tone playful as your hands trailed lightly over his thighs. "Just keep teaching, Mr. Jeon."

His brows knitted together in frustration, but before he could respond, a voice from the laptop snapped his attention back to the screen.

"Mr. Jeon? Are you there?"

"Yes," he replied quickly, clearing his throat as he unmuted himself. "Sorry, just... adjusting something."

You couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped you as you felt his body tense beneath your touch. His legs shifted, a subtle attempt to reposition himself, but you followed his movement, your hands steady as they teased their way higher.

"Behave," he mouthed, his jaw clenched as he glanced down at the suspicious mound beneath the blanket.

But you had no intention of behaving.

With a deliberate slowness, you let your fingers trace the hem of his boxers, your touch feather-light. Jungkook's breath hitched, his grip on the edge of the desk tightening as he fought to maintain his composure.

"Alright," he said, his voice strained but steady as he addressed his class. "Let's move on to the next topic. I'll share my screen now..."

You smiled to yourself, emboldened by his reaction. Slowly, you leaned in, pressing your lips against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. The muffled groan he let out sent a thrill coursing through you, though he quickly masked it with a cough.

"Mr. Jeon, are you okay?" a student asked.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice an octave lower than usual. "Just... a dry throat. Let's continue."

Biting your lip to stifle a laugh, you decided to push him further. Hooking your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, you tugged them down just enough to expose him. Jungkook's hand shot under the blanket, gripping your wrist in a desperate attempt to stop you.

"i'm in class," he mouthed, his dark eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something much more primal.

You looked up at him, your gaze challenging as you let your lips brush teasingly against his skin. "and i don't care" you whispered, your voice so quiet it was barely audible.

Jungkook's head tilted back slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His hand lingered on your wrist for a moment longer before he released you, his fingers flexing as if debating whether to grab you again or let you continue.

You took his silence as permission.

As your lips continued their slow, deliberate exploration, you felt his body tremble under your touch. His breathing grew heavier, though he fought valiantly to keep it quiet. You let your tongue dart out, tasting the salt of his skin, and you felt him tense even further, his knuckles white as they gripped the desk.

"Mr. Jeon?"

Jungkook jolted, unmuting himself with a shaky hand. "Y-yes? Sorry, I was... distracted for a moment. Could you repeat the question?"

You smirked, knowing full well you were the cause of his distraction. As he stumbled through an answer, his voice wavering slightly, you pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just above his waistband. His reaction was immediate. a sharp intake of breath, followed by a subtle shift in his chair as he tried to adjust without drawing attention to himself.

The tension in the room was electric, every tiny movement and sound amplified by the forbidden nature of what you were doing. You reveled in the power you held over him, knowing he couldn't do anything to stop you without exposing himself.

"Stop," he whispered as soon as he muted himself again, his voice barely more than a breath.

"Make me," you replied, your tone dripping with defiance.

Jungkook's head dipped forward, his hand tangling briefly in his hair as he exhaled a shaky breath. "You're going to pay for this," he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

You grinned, your teeth grazing his skin lightly in response. "I'm counting on it."

The rest of the class was a blur of tension and restraint, Jungkook's professionalism cracking just slightly as he stumbled through his explanations. When the call finally ended, he closed his laptop with a snap, turning to face you with a look that sent your heart racing.

"You think this is funny?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet as he leaned closer.

"A little," you admitted, your grin unrepentant.

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his hand gripping your chin as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "You have no idea what you've started," he murmured, his voice low and full of intent.

The promise in his tone sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but smile. "I don't think i do... can you show me?"

-------

"I'm supposed to be taking care of you, Y/N," Jungkook muttered as we lay in bed, me tucked into his arms, hugging him close.

"And that was my thank you," I said, smiling up at him with a teasing glint in my eyes.

He sighed dramatically, but the corner of his lips tugged into a small smile. "You have to pee, don’t you?" he said, already knowing the answer.

"Take me to the bathroom, pleaseee," I pleaded, grinning at him.

With a shake of his head and a quiet chuckle, he scooped me up effortlessly, carrying me toward the bathroom like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As he set me down gently in front of the toilet, I couldn’t resist. "You’ve double-killed my legs," I joked, smirking as he glanced at me. "Fucked me too hard."

His ears turned red instantly, and he playfully swatted my arm, muttering low enough for me not to hear, "can't believe i'm inlove with this woman"

I laughed, watching his flustered reaction, and he smiled despite himself. "Go finish up," he said, leaning against the doorframe, shaking his head like I was the most exhausting person in the world.

-----

"Hey, Kook? Can you check my phone? See if there are any updates about my work?" I asked, stretching lazily on the bed.

He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. "You’re on sick leave, though."

"Pleaseee?" I pouted, dragging the word out dramatically.

Jungkook sighed, already defeated. He couldn’t resist me, and we both knew it. Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, he unlocked it with the password he memorized long ago, not that I’d ever mind.

His eyes flicked across the screen, scrolling through my email. "Oh…" he mumbled, pausing mid-scroll.

I sat up straighter. "What?"

"Someone transferred to your department," he muttered, his voice lower now as he handed me the phone.

Curious, I grabbed it and scanned the email. My stomach dropped when I saw the name.

Min Yoongi.

I froze for a moment before letting out a scoff. "He moved back to Korea?" I rolled my eyes, tossing the phone onto the bed like it had personally offended me.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. His face remained calm, but I could see it. the subtle shift in his expression. He was retreating behind the quiet wall he always put up when something got too close to hurting him.

I sighed, leaning back into the pillows. "I’m tired. I’m gonna sleep."

Jungkook got up from the bed silently, heading toward the bathroom. As he reached the door, he turned to look at me. His face was unreadable, but his eyes… they said everything he couldn’t.

That look felt heavier than words. It was almost as if he were saying something to me. 

Jungkook knew what he was feeling, but he also knew better than to dwell on it. Min Yoongi. My ex. My first long-term relationship. The man who broke my heart by moving away and refusing to make long-distance work. And the man whose shadow still lingered over Jungkook, 

because he was the reason why i broke up with jungkook. 

He never brought it up, never said a word about the history between us. But I knew it. And he knew it too.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, gripping the bathroom doorframe for a second longer than necessary. His mind was a mess, filled with thoughts he didn’t want to think.

He knew he didn’t have a chance with me. He’d accepted that long ago. Being friends with benefits, a fuckbuddy, whatever I called it- this was the closest he’d ever get, and he was grateful for that.

Grateful to be the man who knew my body, who understood my quirks and my thinking, and, in some small, unspoken way, still knew my heart. Grateful just to exist in my orbit, even if it wasn’t the way he wanted.

He turned back to me, his voice quiet but firm, like it took everything in him to say it. "Stay on the bed."

And with that, he walked into the bathroom, leaving behind the tension that sat thick in the air.

-------

It had been a week since I’d sprained my ankle, and Jungkook had been glued to me the entire time. 

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciated the help, but he was treating me like I’d shattered every bone in my body. Even when I needed to pee, he insisted on hovering just outside the bathroom door, ready to swoop in like I was some fragile porcelain doll.

We sat together in the doctor’s office, waiting for my follow-up. Jungkook’s leg bounced slightly as he sat next to me, arms crossed, looking like he had something to prove to the universe.

When the doctor finally walked in, Jungkook immediately straightened in his seat, his eyes darting between me and the doctor.

"Well," the doctor began, scanning my chart. "The swelling has gone down significantly, and your range of motion has improved. That’s a good sign."

I exhaled in relief. "So does that mean I can walk again??"

The doctor smiled. "Yes, you can start walking. But," he added, holding up a finger, "take it easy. Avoid prolonged standing or walking, and don’t push yourself too hard. If you feel pain or discomfort, stop immediately and rest."

I grinned, turning to Jungkook with a victorious look. "Hear that? I can walk again. Freedom, finally!"

Jungkook’s jaw tightened slightly. "Yeah, but the doctor said to take it easy. Don’t think you’re running around like nothing happened."

I rolled my eyes and leaned back dramatically in my chair. "Oh, please. You’ve barely let me breathe this past week. God forbid I get up on my own without you hovering like a helicopter."

Jungkook scoffed but didn’t deny it.

I turned back to the doctor with a mock-serious tone. "So, can I go to work, run errands, and do normal human things without Jungkook treating me like I’ll shatter into pieces?"

The doctor chuckled. "Yes, you’re cleared to return to normal activities, as long as you listen to your body and don’t overdo it."

I smirked at Jungkook. "You hear that, Kook? I’m not an invalid anymore. You can finally relax."

Jungkook shot me a look but said nothing.

-----

The next morning, Jungkook insisted on driving me to work for my first day back. I tried to argue that I was fine, but he shut me down instantly.

"You’re still recovering, Y/N," he said firmly, grabbing my bag as I huffed in protest. "It’s not up for discussion."

When we arrived at the parking lot of my office, Jungkook parked the car and quickly came around to my side, opening the door for me. His hand hovered near my arm as I stepped out, like he didn’t fully trust me not to trip and fall.

"Thanks, Kook," I said, giving him a small smile.

But as I adjusted my bag on my shoulder, Jungkook froze. His entire body went stiff, his gaze fixed on something, or rather, someone a few feet away.

I followed his line of sight and immediately felt a knot form in my stomach.

Min Yoongi.

He was leaning casually against a car, holding his phone, dressed sharply in a blazer with his dark hair styled just enough to look effortless. His eyes flicked up, landing on us, and the faintest hint of a smile appeared on his face.

For a moment, no one said anything. The air felt thick, heavy with something unspoken.

"Y/N," Yoongi greeted, his voice smooth and familiar.

I nodded stiffly. "Yoongi."

Jungkook’s jaw clenched beside me, his fists flexing slightly at his sides. He said nothing, but the tension in his shoulders was enough to let me know how he felt.

Yoongi’s gaze shifted to Jungkook, his 'smile' widening slightly. "It’s been a while."

Jungkook didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink.

"I guess I’ll see you inside," Yoongi said to me, his tone polite but tinged with something I couldn’t quite place.

As he walked away, Jungkook exhaled sharply, his jaw still tight.

"Kook…" I started, unsure of what to say, my voice soft. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable.

I sighed, dropping my gaze. "Just—just help me get to the elevator."

His hand moved to the small of my back almost immediately, guiding me forward. But the silence between us spoke unsaid words.

[aniesvision]

𐂂 𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒓, 𝑪.𝑺.

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 ♡︎ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆!!

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒔 ✺✺

I picked up an empty red cup and filled it with non-alcoholic cider. The familiar taste of apple sweetened my tongue as I walked back to the balcony, setting my cup on the table beside me and my arms on the balcony. I looked at the sky, which was colorful with some early fireworks.

-Hi. –I hear a low, soft greeting, the familiar voice making me smile.

-Hi. –I answer back, turning my face to look into the blue eyes that had caught my attention months ago, now a little darker in the night.

He leans against the balcony, the genuine smile on his face making me feel butterflies in my stomach.

-Only five minutes left. –He warns, his attention turning to the vivid colors in the sky.

-Yeah, it went by fast, and it wasn't that bad. -I say, chuckling softly, which makes him look back at me with one of his eyebrows arched.

-It wasn't that bad? -He asks, a provocative smile appearing on his lips.

4 minutes.

-Well, it could've been worse, but it could've been a lot better, y'know? –I replied, leaving a hidden message in the air.

Our friends gathered around us, looking at the fireworks that were already exploding everywhere and talking about the year that had just passed.

-What could've been better? –He asked, taking a step to the side to get closer to me.

Our shoulders were touching and he kept his eyes on me, but out of nervousness mine were focused on the fireworks. My cheeks blushed a little at my own thoughts, wondering what answer I'd give him.

3 minutes.

-Mm, I don't know, I could've done a lot of things I like without thinking of what other people would think, I could've talked more about how I feel and maybe confessed my feelings to the guy I've had a crush on for the past months. But, of course, I didn't do any of that. Maybe next year. –I answer, smiling at him, a bit embarrassed about the last part.

He looks at me with a confused and slightly disappointed expression. His eyebrows arched as his eyes searched for any hint of who I might be talking about, but when he found nothing he looked down, the bubbles of his soda becoming the main focus of his vision. A few seconds of silence passed and I was sure that he wasn't going to give me an answer, after all, there really wasn't much to talk about.

2 minutes.

Chris is the only one in my thoughts for the last three months and coincidentally one of my best friends. Ever since we met, I've been fascinated by his spontaneous manner, his ability to make me laugh, his ability to be that friend who makes any hang out better.

We became friends very quickly, but it took me a few months to see him differently. Beauty doesn't do everything by itself, but he wasn't just a pretty face. He makes me laugh, he keeps me entertained with his stories, our conversations never end, his company is comfortable, and he also has his serious side where we can talk about sensitive and slightly heavier things.

-So you're into someone. –His answer came, subtle and unpredictable.

Chris was playing with his red cup, half full of Pepsi, and trying his best to hide his disappointment, but I couldn't ignore the sad, unhappy look on his face. 

-Yeah, but I don't know if we would work so I didn't do anything about it. –I say, sincerely, but avoiding saying too much and ending up confessing what I shouldn't.

He nods in affirmation, takes a deep breath and looks out at the view from the balcony. I'm starting to get a little nervous about this interaction, so I find myself biting the inside of my cheek as a way of calming down.

1 minute.

-Why do you think that? –He asks, his voice calm but firm.

My eyes never leave his face, scanning every detail. His few, almost imperceptible freckles, his eyes that looked black because his pupils were dilated, his freshly shaved beard, the shiny earrings in his ears, the backward hat. Everything about him, absolutely everything, was just perfect.

-I don't want to ruin our friendship. –I whisper, giving away who I was talking about.

Fuck it.

His eyes return to me, his face serious, but showing a hint of a smile on his lips.

-Yeah? -He asks, as if checking.

I hear our friends starting to count down, 10 seconds.

-Yep.

My cheeks turn red in embarrassment and his smile only grows. I couldn't stop looking at him, even though I wanted to, it was like his eyes were hypnotizing me.

9.

I couldn't hide it any longer. It was a time for change, and regardless of whether it was for better or worse, it needed to happen, I needed to tell him.

8.

-You like me? –He asks, as if he still doesn't believe it.

7.

He turns his body, no longer leaning against the balcony, but standing in front of me, just one step away. It was like my entire body panicked and I felt as nervous as a teenager talking to her crush.

6.

I also change my position, now facing him, reluctantly studying his eyes.

5.

-Yeah, I do. –I finally confess.

This is terrifying, my heart is beating so fast, I feel like my fingertips went numb, my cheeks are burning and my mind is thinking of a thousand things at once.

4.

The voices of our friends on the countdown and the fireworks already bursting loudly in the sky were the only things I could hear.

3.

His smile grows even more and it makes me a little less nervous, at least he's not mad, right?

2.

He takes the last step forward, bringing our bodies together, one of his hands on my hip, squeezing lightly, and the other on the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

1.

Chris brings our lips together in a long, calm and delicate kiss, making me immediately melt and kiss him back, my arms wrapping around his neck.

HAPPY NEW YEAR.

The voices didn't separate us, not even the screams of our friends when they realized we were kissing.

I didn't tell anyone about my feelings for Chris, I thought it'd be a bad idea and initially I thought it was just a crush that would eventually fade away, but obviously it didn't. So, to say the least, they were all surprised.

We only separated when the air ran out, a giant smile on our faces. Our foreheads were still touching when he whispered.

-I've wanted to do this for a long time.

I giggled happily, but didn't have time to answer him. We were both pulled away by our friends for New Year's hugs and a lot of questions from our confused friends that neither of us knew what to answer yet.

It was my first kiss of the year, and my first kiss with him, and I couldn't have had a better New Year's Eve than this.

➪ @riowritesitall @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @deers4luv @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @faithlia @katie-tibo @monroesturnns @chrisxcherry @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @h3arts4harry @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713 @conspiracy-ash @sturnsxbitvh @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @larallott @stqrnlvs @sssoniaswiftt @s1ut4chris @lovingregulusblack @sturnslutz @star-yawnznn @jupiter-rebel @courta13

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER FINAL PART | MV1

an: i bet you guys thought i forgot about this, i didn't. i just didn't want to say goodbye to them just yet because this is officially the end of our favourite couple. i'm defo going to miss them a lot and i hope you enjoyed them as much as i did.

wc: 3.6k

previous part

THE HOUSE WAS QUIETER than it used to be. It wasn’t silent—there was no such thing in a house with three kids, even if they were teenagers now—but the chaos had mellowed into a rhythm.

Theo, now eighteen, had shot up like a weed and was nearly as tall as Max. He spent most of his time tinkering in the garage with his dad, learning the ins and outs of engines and dreaming about rebuilding the motorbike Max had never fully let go of.

Mary-Ann, sixteen and the spitting image of her mother, had inherited her sass and determination. She was perched at the kitchen table, headphones on, doing homework—or pretending to, judging by the way she was doodling flowers in the margins of her notebook.

And Daniel, their youngest, now twelve, was sprawled on the living room floor with a pile of Legos, determined to construct the "coolest car ever" and occasionally asking Max for design advice. 

Max leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee. The years had been kind to him, though there was a little more grey in his beard and a few more lines around his eyes. He wore them well, a testament to a life lived fully.

His gaze drifted to his wife, who was standing at the stove flipping pancakes. She hummed under her breath, her hair tied up in a loose bun, a familiar warmth radiating from her. The sight of her, even after all these years, still made his heart skip a beat.

“Need a hand, angel?” he asked, setting his mug down.

She glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “I’ve got it. You just make sure Daniel doesn’t eat the syrup straight out of the bottle again.”

Max chuckled, ruffling Daniel’s hair as he walked past. “You hear that, buddy? No syrup until the pancakes are on the plate.”

Daniel groaned but nodded, his focus back on his Legos.

Once the pancakes were ready, the family gathered around the table, the smell of maple syrup and butter filling the room. Theo and Mary-Ann bickered over who got the last pancake until their mum intervened, splitting it in half with a raised brow that said don’t push your luck.

Max leaned back in his chair, watching his family with quiet contentment. They weren’t perfect—there were still squabbles, slammed doors, and the occasional teenage attitude—but they were his. They were hers. And they’d built this life together, brick by brick, from nothing.

Later that day, Max and Theo were in the garage, going over the specs of a carburetor Theo had salvaged from the junkyard.

“Think we can make it work?” Theo asked, his voice filled with the kind of excitement only an eighteen year old with a dream to take over his dad’s garage could muster.

Max grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “We can make anything work if we put in the effort.”

Mary-Ann wandered in, rolling her eyes, hands glued to her phone - something Max realised she was doing more often. “Mum said you two need to stop talking about car parts long enough to eat lunch. Also, Daniel wants to know if he can use the drill.”

But Max chose peace and never mentioned it as he snorted “Absolutely not.”

Mary-Ann smirked. “I told him you’d say that.”

When dinner rolled around, Max watched as her phone lit up and she smiled. All of this had started innocently enough. Mary-Ann had come home from school, cheeks pink and a slight bounce in her step, and casually mentioned during dinner that a boy had asked her out on a date.

She might as well have set off a grenade.

Theo, who had been lazily poking at his mashed potatoes, froze mid-bite. His eyes snapped up to his sister with the kind of intensity usually reserved for critical engine failures. “I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel, sitting next to him, dropped his fork entirely. At twelve, he wasn’t entirely sure what “dating” entailed, but he knew enough to side with his older brother. “Nope. Not happening.”

Even Max, who had been chewing a piece of chicken, paused. He set down his knife and fork, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms. “Who’s this kid?”

Mary-Ann groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my gosh, this is why I didn’t want to say anything!”

Her mum, sitting at the head of the table, was trying—and failing—not to laugh. She sipped her water to hide her grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let the poor girl live, you three.”

But the boys were relentless.

Theo, the self-appointed enforcer, turned to Mary-Ann with a raised brow. “What’s his name? Is he in your grade? What’s his deal?”

Daniel piped up, his brows furrowed in a stern expression that would have been intimidating if he weren’t still twelve. “Does he know we’ve got a garage full of tools? And Dad has a hammer?”

Max nodded sagely, playing along. “Big hammer.”

Mary-Ann threw up her hands. “You guys are ridiculous! It’s just one date!”

Theo leaned forward, fixing her with a deadpan stare. “And that’s how it starts. First it’s one date, and then he’s calling you all the time, and then—”

“—he’s asking you to marry him!” Daniel chimed in, clearly pleased with his contribution.

Max smirked, glancing at his wife. “We’re just looking out for her, angel. Can’t have some punk kid messing with our Mary-Ann.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “She’s sixteen, Max. Let her figure it out.”

Mary-Ann crossed her arms, glaring at her family. “You’re all the worst. Mum, do something!”

But her mum just shrugged, biting back another laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. You’re on your own. This is way too entertaining.”

Mary-Ann groaned, pushing back from the table. “I can’t believe you guys! I’m going to my room.”

As she stomped off, Theo called after her. “You’re not leaving this house until we meet him!”

Daniel added, “And I’m bringing the hammer!”

Max, unable to resist, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “BIG hammer!”

Her mum finally burst out laughing, shaking her head as she looked at her husband and sons. “You three are unbelievable.”

Max grinned, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? We’re a protective bunch.”

Daniel puffed out his chest. “Yeah, Mum! We’re protecting her honour.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it one day. Maybe.”

Max winked at her. “Just doing our duty, angel.”

And that day did roll around.

The atmosphere in the head teacher’s office was tense—at least, it was supposed to be. Theo sat in the chair next to his parents, arms crossed, chin jutting out defiantly like a boxer after a victory. His knuckles were still a little red, and there was a faint smudge of what could only be described as "evidence" on his school blazer.

The head teacher, a middle-aged man with a thin mustache and a receding hairline, sighed heavily as he glanced over the disciplinary report in front of him. “Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen, I’ve called you here because your son, Theo, punched another student today. Quite hard, I might add.”

Mary-Ann, sitting to the side with her own chair, looked both embarrassed and secretly pleased as she avoided her brother's gaze.

Max sat back, trying—really trying—not to crack a smile. He’d been biting the inside of his cheek since they arrived, but the mental image of Theo landing the punch was too much. His lips twitched dangerously, and he coughed to cover the beginnings of a chuckle.

His wife shot him a sharp look. “Max.” Her voice was low, a warning in one word.

Theo, sensing the opportunity for backup, jumped in. “It wasn’t my fault! He called Mary-Ann a...a...” He hesitated, glancing nervously at his mother.

The head teacher cleared his throat uncomfortably. “A ‘church freak,’ I believe, was the term used. Followed by...other comments.”

Max’s lips pressed together tightly, his shoulders shaking as he fought the laugh bubbling up. He turned his head away, trying to disguise it as clearing his throat.

Theo, emboldened by his dad’s silent support, added, “Yeah, so I punched him! Right in the mouth.” He demonstrated with his fist, making a swooping motion like a dramatic action movie. “I didn’t even miss!”

Max lost it. A short laugh burst out before he could stop it, and he quickly turned it into a cough. His wife’s head snapped toward him. “Max Emilian!”

Her tone was scolding, but there was a flicker of amusement she couldn’t quite hide.

Max held up his hands in mock surrender. “What? The kid’s got good aim!”

The head teacher looked horrified. “Mr. Verstappen, this is hardly something to celebrate. Violence is unacceptable under any circumstances—”

“He started it!” Theo interrupted, glaring at the head teacher.

Max leaned forward, his voice mock-serious. “Way to go, buddy.” He reached out and fist-bumped Theo before his wife could stop him.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Max, you’re not helping.”

Mary-Ann finally spoke up, her voice small. “He only did it because he was sticking up for me. It’s...kind of sweet.”

Her mum sighed, turning her attention back to Theo. “Theo, you can’t just go around punching people, no matter what they say.”

Theo blinked at her, his face scrunching up in confusion. “But Dad did. He punched your dad, and no one told him off.”

Max froze, wide-eyed. “Whoa, whoa, let’s not drag me into this.”

But his wife turned to him, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Oh no, you’re definitely getting dragged into this. Theo wouldn’t be punching anyone if you hadn’t decked my dad in front of him.”

Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I mean...to be fair, your dad deserved it.”

“And that’s exactly what Theo thinks about this kid!” She gestured at their son, who looked increasingly smug.

The head teacher cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen, while I understand the context, the school has a zero-tolerance policy for violence. Theo will need to serve a two-day suspension.”

Max shrugged. “Two days? That’s not bad. Maybe we can—”

His wife slapped his arm lightly. “Stop encouraging him!”

Theo grinned, clearly unrepentant, and looked up at his dad. “Can we go home now?”

Max ruffled his hair. “Sure thing, champ. You earned a break.”

His wife threw her hands in the air, muttering something about boys and her fate of living with three of them. Despite her frustration, though, there was a small smile on her face as they walked out of the office.

As Max and Theo bolted out of the school building, laughter echoing in the hallway as they raced each other to the parking lot, she shook her head with a small, amused smile. Mary-Ann stayed by her side, clutching her school bag as they walked together at a slower pace.

Her daughter’s quietness didn’t go unnoticed. She looked down, noticing how Mary-Ann stared at the floor, her brows furrowed in thought. Gently, she placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“You okay, baby?” she asked softly.

Mary-Ann shrugged, hesitating for a moment. “I guess. Just...what that kid said about me at school.”

Her heart sank. She crouched down a little to meet Mary-Ann’s eyes, pausing in the hallway. “It’s okay if it upset you, you know. What he said was mean, and he was wrong.”

Mary-Ann chewed her lip, looking conflicted. “He called me a ‘church freak.’ I guess I don’t really know if I am one. Is it...bad?”

She felt her chest tighten at the vulnerability in her daughter’s voice. She took Mary-Ann’s hand and gave it a squeeze, guiding her to sit on a nearby bench where they could talk.

“I know how you feel,” she admitted after a moment. “When I was your age, I got called things like that too. Kids made fun of me for going to church, for praying, for all the little things I believed in. And it hurt.”

Mary-Ann blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Really? You got made fun of too?”

She nodded. “I did. A lot. But you know what? It doesn’t matter what they think. You don’t have to go to church just because I do. If you don’t like it, or if it makes you feel weird, you don’t have to keep going.”

Mary-Ann looked up at her in surprise. “You mean that?”

Her heart twisted as she nodded. Christianity was such a core part of her own life, something that had anchored her during her darkest moments. Letting go of the idea of her children growing up in the church wasn’t easy, but she also knew she couldn’t force it. Faith had to be their choice.

“I do, baby. What’s most important is that you feel comfortable. It’s not about what Dad or I want for you—it’s about what you want for yourself. Okay?”

For a moment, Mary-Ann said nothing, her little face thoughtful. Then she smiled, small but genuine. “I like going to church. I like Sunday school, and singing the songs. And I don’t care if kids at school think it’s weird.”

She felt a wave of relief and pride as she pulled her daughter into a hug. “That’s my girl. You’re so brave, you know that?”

Mary-Ann grinned against her shoulder. “Thanks, Mum.”

The sound of Max and Theo shouting in the distance broke the tender moment, and she shook her head as she helped Mary-Ann up.

“Come on. Let’s see if those two actually waited for us at the car or if they’re already halfway through that oil change.”

Mary-Ann giggled. “Dad’s definitely winning. Theo’s fast, but Dad’s faster.”

“Let’s go find out.” She smiled, holding Mary-Ann’s hand as they walked toward the parking lot.

Later that day, when the sun set and all of them had packed up the dinner table, Max found himself curled up on the sofa with his wife. His arm was draped around her shoulders, her head resting on his chest, their legs tangled as they relished a rare quiet moment. The kids had been unusually calm after dinner, and they’d taken full advantage of the lull.

But the calm didn’t last.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the peace, and all three kids came bounding into the room. Theo was leading the charge, with Mary-Ann and little Daniel trailing close behind, their faces lit up with excitement and mischief.

Max groaned, shifting slightly but keeping her close. “There goes the quiet.”

She smiled, sitting up just as Theo hopped onto the armrest of the couch. Mary-Ann plopped herself between her parents, while Daniel crawled up onto Max’s lap, nestling in without hesitation. At his age of 12, he just got away with it.

“What’s up, guys?” his wife asked, amused by their sudden energy.

Theo spoke first, his voice laced with curiosity. “How did you guys meet?”

She exchanged a look with Max, one eyebrow raised. “Where’s this coming from?”

Mary-Ann piped up, clearly eager to share. “We were looking in Dad’s office—”

Max’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Wait, wait. You were snooping in my garage? What were you doing in there?”

Daniel, ever the bold one, looked up at his dad with an innocent expression. “Pictures! We saw pictures!”

Theo nodded, practically bouncing now. “Yeah, pictures of you two when you were younger! You looked so different, Mum. And Dad didn’t have any grey hairs!”

Max snorted. “Gee, thanks, bud. Remind me who gave me these grey hairs.” He shot a mock glare at Theo, who grinned unrepentantly.

Their mother, who was laughing now, shook her head as she ruffled Mary-Ann’s hair. “You guys found the old photos, huh?”

Mary-Ann nodded, her eyes wide with wonder. “Mum, you looked so pretty in your dress, and Dad looked cool with his jacket and helmet.”

Max smirked, leaning back into the couch. “Cool, huh? You hear that, Angel? They think I’m cool.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re inflating his ego, guys. So, why do you want to know how we met?”

Daniel, still snuggled in Max’s lap, whispered conspiratorially, “Was it like a movie?”

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around Daniel. “Sort of. It started with a Church and a bit of my chivalry. And maybe a little bad timing.”

She laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with fond memories. “He was as stubborn as he is today, kept offering to carry some boxes for me.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Max teased, brushing a kiss against her temple.

Theo leaned forward, his curiosity insatiable. “So, you just saw Mum and were like, ‘She’s the one’?”

Max pretended to think for a moment. “Pretty much. Your mum was gorgeous. Still is. But it wasn’t just that. She had this thing about her—strong, determined, kind. She made me feel like maybe I could be a better man.”

She rolled her eyes but was clearly touched. “Oh, stop. You’re making me blush.”

Mary-Ann sighed dreamily. “That’s so cute. I want a love story like that one day.”

Max groaned dramatically, covering his face with a hand. “No. Absolutely not. You’re staying single forever.”

Mary-Ann smacked his arm lightly, laughing. “Dad!”

Daniel, trying to stay on topic, asked, “Then what happened? After the parking lot?”

She smiled, pulling her kids’ attention to her. “A lot happened. We fell in love. We got married. And then we had you guys. And that’s the best part of the whole story.”

As the laughter faded and the kids began settling down, she found herself staring at the curious, innocent faces of her children. Their questions had slowed, but the warmth of the moment lingered, leaving her with a quiet space to think.

The memories came rushing back—the hurried whispers in the dark, the rumble of Max’s motorbike as they fled the life she’d desperately wanted to escape. The fear, the uncertainty, and the overwhelming relief when she finally felt free.

They deserve to know, she thought, her gaze drifting to Theo, who was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and Mary-Ann, who was resting her head against her shoulder. Even Daniel, with his sleepy eyes and little fingers clutching Max’s sleeve.

But how could she tell them? How could she explain the life she’d left behind without tainting their view of the world? Of family?

Her chest tightened at the thought. What if knowing changed how they saw her? Or worse, how they saw Max?

She bit her lip, glancing at him. He was leaning back on the couch, his arm resting along the backrest, his other hand absently ruffling Daniel’s hair. His eyes caught hers, and his brow quirked slightly, a silent question: You okay?

She nodded subtly, offering him a small smile.

No, she decided. Not now. Not yet.

They were still so young, their world so pure. If she told them the truth, it wouldn’t be to satisfy curiosity or ease her own conscience—it would have to be necessary, something they were ready to hear. And she would know when that moment came.

For now, she tucked the thoughts away, sealing them behind the same mental door she’d locked so many years ago.

And that’s how life was for the Verstappens.

Years passed, but the heart of their family never wavered. She and Max, once two young souls bound by circumstance and love, had built a life that was both imperfect and extraordinary.

The children grew, each carving their own paths in the world. Theo, ever protective and headstrong, went on to study engineering, inspired by the hours spent in the garage with his dad. He eventually took over the family’s repair shop, rebranding it with a sleek new sign that read “Verstappen & Son’s Auto.” He still teased Mary-Ann mercilessly but remained her fiercest defender.

Mary-Ann, with her gentle strength and quiet faith, became a teacher. She carried her mother’s warmth into the classroom, where she guided and inspired children from all walks of life. Her love for the church endured, but she carried it as her own, unpressured by anyone. She often joked with her parents that her students were easier to handle than her brothers.

And Daniel—sweet, clever Daniel—emerged as the family dreamer. With a heart as big as his father’s and a mind as sharp as his mother’s, he pursued a career in writing, crafting stories that captured the chaos and beauty of family life. His parents swore they recognised pieces of themselves in his characters, though he always denied it with a smirk.

She and Max grew older, their once fiery love mellowing into something deeper and even more unshakable. The garage was still Max’s domain, though he worked less and spent more time tinkering for fun. She often joined him, still the same girl who’d fallen for him in that tiny trailer all those years ago.

The white picket fence eventually aged, its paint chipping in places, but it stood strong—just like them. Sunday dinners became a cherished tradition, with laughter filling the house as their children and, later, their grandchildren gathered around the same worn dining table.

In the end, their lives weren’t perfect. They had their disagreements, their challenges, their moments of doubt. But they always had each other, and that made all the difference.

And as they sat together on the porch in their twilight years, Max’s hand in hers, the memories of their wild, beautiful journey were enough to fill a lifetime.

Because that’s how life was for the Verstappens—a story of love, resilience, and the kind of family you fight for, cherish, and hold onto forever.

the end.

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[heyftinally]

For anyone who would like a shred of a reference point because they do not do fiber arts, let me try to contribute.

I crochet. Kitting is notably more "efficient" for a lot of garment crafting, but 1) I don't know how to knit 2) crochet isn't *that* far off and can still be used to make quite a lot.

If I want to crochet myself a triangle head bandana - just a triangle with two strings to tie around my head - it will take me about two hours IF I'm working uninterrupted and under ideal circumstances. That's 2hrs+ to make a hair accessory.

Now, if you need to make things like socks for your children, that's another solid 2+hrs per sock/set of socks (depending on size). A sweater could take anywhere between weeks and months to complete, depending in intricacy, size, how many hours you have per day to dedicate to it, and individual's personal working speed.

So when OP says "I wouldn't be surprised if fiberwork took up nearly as much time as the other three combined", they're 100% correct.

Which, as they said, is also on top of having to make things like soap and candles if the family couldn't afford to buy them (or didn't have access to a place that sold them), and also generally tasks like tending livestock that the family may have had (anything from chickens to cows and horses), tending a garden, routinely bathing the children and herself (which I put in it's own category because such a task would take hours), laundry (wash dry mend and fold), canning during that season, and often making preparations for anything from visitors to political unrest that threatened the family.

Women of the home had a lot to do, and most of this stuff took a long time to do. But because so much of it doesn't exist anymore, and what of it does we have modern conveniences to aid with, we often don't really get an accurate mental picture of just HOW MUCH time and effort keeping a home used to take.

a phrase that kinda bothers me when talking about women's historical roles in europe is "cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children." you hear it so often, those exact words in the same order even. and once you learn a little more you realize that the massive gaping hole in that list is fiberwork. im not an expert and have no hard numbers, but i wouldnt be surprised if fiberwork took up nearly as much time as the other three tasks combined, so it's not a trivial omission.

it's not a hot take to say that the mass amnesia about fiberwork is linked to the belittlement of women's work in geneal, but i do think there's a special kind of illusion that is cast by "cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children." you hear that and think "well i cook and clean and take care of children (or i know someone who does) and i have a sense of how much work that is" and you know of course that cooking and cleaning were more laborious before modern technology, but still, you have a ballpark estimate you think, when in fact you are drastically underestimating the work load.

i also think that this just micharacterizes the role of women's work in livelihoods? cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children are all sisyphean tasks that have to be repeated the next day. these are important, but not the whole picture. when we include all kinds of fiberwork—and other things, such as making candles or soap—women's work looks much more like manufacturing, a sphere we now associate more with men's work. i feel like women's connection to making and craftsmanship is often elided.

[toomuchracket]

chilly mornings (dad politician!matty x reader fluff)

this was meant to be a christmas fic lol have it anyway. happy politician babies fic debut! enjoy <3

the bedroom is cold, but the lips against your neck that wake you up are warm. so are your husband's arms, wrapped tightly around you; so is his breath, you find out, when he whispers softly in your ear. “good morning, darling.”

you hum, leisurely rolling your head back onto matty’s shoulder and stretching in his grasp. as you do, you feel him hard against your ass, and you can't stop the giddy, sleepy giggle that leaves your lips. “hi, my love,” you coo, moving your hips and savouring his little groan. “did you have a nice dream?”

“very,” one of his hands moves, gently rubbing your asscheek. “dreamt i was fucking you here again,” he smiles into your skin when you whine, hips moving again. “was thinking about the first time we did it.”

“in my dorm?”

“yeah. now that was the perfect way to start spring break,” matty's smile is audible. “and you were perfect, too. well, you always are, but there's regular perfect and then there's-”

“letting you put it in my ass?”

he laughs, your favourite sound in the world. “and letting me cum in it. best feeling in the world, you know,” when you let out another little whimper at the memories of that very feeling, matty softly kisses your cheek up to your ear. “do you want me to do that to you now, sweet girl? to fill you up like that?”

“yes,” you whine, body impossibly hot both inside and out. “please, i want-”

noise outside the bedroom door shuts you up. matty retracts his face from your neck to peer over at it, sitting up slightly when it creaks open a crack; you follow his movement when it continues to open slowly, confused as to why you're being interrupted so early on a sunday morning, which is widely accepted throughout DC and the world as matty's weekly time off.

and then your three-year-old peeks round the door.

well, one of them - theo, your sweet boy, barefoot in the little christmas pyjamas he's insistent on wearing to bed, despite the fact that it's now january. “mama?”

“hi, baby,” you wave at him, still slightly too groggy to move. “why are you up so early? are you alright?”

he nods. “yeah. but cold. kitty, too.”

at that, his twin sister makes her appearance, also in christmas pyjamas, curls escaping her bedtime braids and eyes heavy with sleep. as is her wont, katherine is half-hiding behind her brother, one little hand clutching his and the other preoccupied with carrying a plush rabbit toy around; still, she beams when you call out a hello to her, nudging theo forward into the room and waddling in after him. 

“good morning, my babies,” with more effort than he'd probably like to admit, matty pulls himself up and out of bed, muffling a yawn behind his hand as he pads towards the twins. little giggles fill the room as he scoops one up in each arm and kisses all over their sweet faces and curly heads, kicking the door shut (you make a mental note to find out how two toddlers managed to get out of their own bedrooms and open it unassisted) before wandering back over to you and the bed. “i'm gonna second mummy's question-”

theo frowns. “what does that mean?”

“it means i'm gonna ask the same thing she did, munchkin,” matty smiles down at his boy. “why are you and your sister awake now?” his face drops into something more serious, head turning so quickly to look at kitty that you worry he'll get whiplash. “are you having bad dreams again, sweetheart, is that it?”

“nuh-uh,” kitty shakes her head. “my bed is cold. want a hug from mama.”

theo chimes in. “i want mama too.”

“i know the feeling,” matty nods sagely, winking at you when your eyes widen threateningly at the innuendo; luckily, he diffuses the moment into something sweet. “she gives the best cuddles, doesn't she?”

“mhmm,” your daughter reaches for you, little face set into an adorable pleading expression that's shockingly reminiscent of her father. cooing, you gently take her from matty and hold her tight, heart aglow at the way she nuzzles into the crook of your neck the way she's done since birth. the boys sit down beside you, and kitty very sweetly moves round a bit to let her brother join in the hug. “come on, theo.”

“aww, that's so kind of you, kitkat,” matty reaches over to boop her nose, as theo cuddles into you. “my lovely girl. and boy,” he adds, kissing theo's head before leaning in to kiss you. “and wife.”

“ewwwwww,” your son's face contorts into one of disgust. “yucky kisses. stop it, daddy.”

you laugh, half at theo's disgust and half at matty's offended expression. “no kissing allowed, t?”

“except on christmas,” he nods assuredly, which makes you laugh even harder; the giggles fade out quickly, though, when you see his face drop into sadness. “wait! mama! you're not wearing christmas jammies!”

kitty gasps, peering round her brother to scrutinise her father's outfit. “daddy is,” she looks at you sadly, and your heart breaks a little bit. “you're not the same as us.”

you open your mouth to apologise, but matty beats you to it. “neither you are, sweetheart,” he pouts at you, a third sad healy face tugging at your heartstrings with all its might, albeit more exaggerated than your kids’. “don't you want to match us?”

what a rat he is. your bottom lip genuinely starts to wobble, distraught at the thought of upsetting your babies. “i do, i just-”

“you should get changed,” theo nods. “yeah, kitty?”

his twin is already nodding. “yeah. so we can be the same!”

matty gently flicks theo's nose. “remember what we said about interrupting, yeah? you have to let people finish what they're saying, mate,” ruffling his son's head, he looks up at you; you're immediately suspicious of the knowing smile on his pretty face. “but yeah - you should get changed into the christmas pyjamas, babe.”

“now?” you frown. “that seems counterproductive, if we're about to get up and get dressed.”

“nah,” your husband shakes his head. “it's a chilly morning, and our babies are already cold as is. i reckon we all just stay here for a bit, snuggle up until it's a bit warmer outside.”

“you have time?”

he nods. “always, for you three.”

sweet boy. “alright. come on, babies, go to daddy,” you gently usher theo and kitty off you and onto matty before you climb out of bed, giggling at the way your daughter promptly climbs all over her dad. real. “eyes closed while i get changed, yeah? squeeze them shut.”

the twins obey, little faces screwing up as they close their eyes tight. matty, on the other hand, keeps his eyes wide open and trained on your body; when you pull your old t-shirt off and reach for your own set of christmas pyjamas, he bites his lip, gaze shifting from one of simple appreciation to proper lust. despite the fluttering of arousal in your stomach, you roll your eyes in exasperation, and matty’s face softens into a smile as you climb back into bed and under the covers. “okay. we all match now.”

kitty cracks one eye open, removing her hand from her plush rabbit's - pinky? is that its name? - eyes in a very endearing way once she's deemed it safe; only then does she nudge her brother to open his eyes, too, and you bite back a giggle at where her priorities lie. theo nods approvingly, beaming in a very matty-esque way at your new outfit. “pretty.”

“beautiful,” matty corrects him. “most beautiful person in the world, your mum.”

“yeah,” your son cuddles into you, little fists coming up to rub at his eyes. “m'sleepy.”

you kiss his head. “that's because the two of you are awake so early.”

he grumbles. “don't like being sleepy.”

“have a nap, then, t,” matty strokes your daughter's hair. “you too, kitkat. mummy and i will wake you up in a little while, alright?”

theo half-nods, curling into you as he falls asleep. kitty takes slightly longer, blinking awake four or five times before giving in, but within ten minutes the two of them are out for the count, snoring softly (matty's genes) and wriggling around for comfort (you, all you) in your and matty's arms. 

he looks at them lovingly. “look at them,” he coos, voice barely louder than a whisper. “we made those adorable little munchkins, darling. us. me and you.”

“yeah, babe, i remember. i was there, you know. labour and all,” you tease, giggling when matty softly kicks you in the shin. “we do good things together, you and i.”

“still gonna do bad things to you later, though, gorgeous,” matty smirks, gently covering kitty's little ears; you do the same to theo. “do me a favour?”

you nod. “what?”

“put that pretty silver plug in before you come to bed tonight.”

“alright,” you smile softly, leaning across the twins to kiss him. “s'pose i'd better catch up on some sleep now, too, then,” as best you can without disturbing your babies, you pull the duvet over all four of you. “set an alarm for an hour's time, would you?”

“of course,” matty reaches across to stroke your cheek. “sweet dreams, my darling.”

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 5: like the old times

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

content warnings! written part (500+ words)

author's note! very late very short update but i'm swamped with uni and work and group orders </3 failed english syntax, fell from the stairs and i have 5 more exams next week, idk what i'll do (probably play love and deepspace)

previous | masterlist | next

You really wanted to have Heeseung’s legendary Shin Ramyun.

But you couldn’t, in good conscience, leave Kai to fend for himself at a party. Your heart wanted to take you to Jay’s apartment, but your head reasoned that it was better this way. Were you even ready to be around Jay like this? In a setting different than band practice or lectures?

Like a total weirdo, you sat outside of Yeonjun’s house on the porch by yourself. Did that mean you left Kai on his own inside the house though? Not at all. Because realistically, Yeonjun was a good friend of his, and they were close enough for him to have gone alone. But he wanted you with him. 

You should be touched, right? Kai invited you to a party — to go there with him. As his girlfriend. Something Jay had never and would never do with the type of relationship the two of you had. But still, you’d rather be with Jay and his friends right now, and it made you feel terrible toward Kai.

He was trying so hard to make you forget Jay. And you adored him. You cared about him. So much. Yet everything between the two of you felt so… friendly. Kai hadn’t even initiated anything with you yet, and you’d been together long enough, right? More than a month was enough, surely.

You sighed and ran a hand over your face as you stared at your notifications. Jay’s messages to you were displayed on the screen, changing from worry to disappointment. You couldn’t bring yourself to reply to him. The idea of explaining yourself terrified you. Because not telling the truth was much easier than lying. 

A pair of hands sneaked around your waist. You let out a scream as strong arms lifted you up on your feet, and as you were turned around, Kai put a hand over your mouth to silence you, wide-eyed. 

“Please, don’t scream. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said helplessly, taking his hand away once you were calm and not convinced you were being kidnapped. 

“Kai,” you breathed out, burying your head in his chest while trying to slow down your beating heart. He scared the fuck out of you. 

He wrapped his arms around you again, rubbing circles on your back. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to do that. Are you mad at me?”

“No, of course, not.” You shook your head, reciprocating his embrace. “But don’t do that again.”

“I won’t.” He kissed the top of your head. “You’re not having fun, are you?” he asked, and another question was on top of his tongue, but he swallowed it because the last thing he wanted to do was bring up Jay. Though as far as Kai was aware, you always seemed to enjoy parties whenever he was around. 

“I just have a lot on my mind,” you said. “I don’t know—”

“If you want, Taehyun isn’t at the dorm right now,” Kai proposed randomly, and you looked up at him in surprise. “We could go there?”

“You want to go to your dorms? Just the two of us?”

“Unless you don’t want to? I mean, I just thought… since we’re officially boyfriend and girlfriend now…” Kai scratches the back of his head nervously before shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

You smile. “No, actually, I’d love to,” you replied.

permanent tag list: @moonpri @addictedtohobi

nothing i don’t have tag list: @samsayssam @sillydallyz @semisemirin1i82 @mora134340 @bananna-12 @lonelylandofan @fakeuwus @tkooooop @en-chantedtomeetyou

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 16

Chapter 15

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

The next day - two visitors walked through the bustling Tanzanite market with familiar steps.

Luke: Hey, are you really going?

Clavis: They said they wanted to meet us. There's no reason to refuse, is there?

Luke: But, you know, their intentions are pretty obvious...

The building in front of the two men, who had stopped walking, was the headquarters of the trading company that controls Tanzanite's tourism industry...

Luke: Aren't we going to get scolded?

Clavis: Haha, don't be so scared. We just entered the building without permission the other day, right?

Luke: After kicking down the "no entry for non-personnel" sign.

Clavis: Don't worry, just relax. I'm a professional at apologizing.

Luke: That's not something to be proud of.

Sighing at his brother's boisterous laughter, he heads towards the entrance where people are coming and going.

As they enter the lobby, crowded with tourists, the person they are looking for immediately comes running over.

Kumush: Thank you for coming. My name is Kumush, and I am the president of the Tourism Association.

Kumush: Please, come this way.

-- At the same time.

Silvio: You...

Emma: It's a misunderstanding!

Silvio: What is?

In the middle of the pure white hallway of the royal court, filled with a sacred and solemn atmosphere, Silvio, whom I happened to pass by, stopped in his tracks instead of walking on.

The people passing by were also glancing at us, and cold sweat trickled down my cheeks.

(How did this happen?)

Silvio: You're the one who made them kneel and cry, aren't ya?

Emma: As I said, it's a misunderstanding!

Aisha: Lady Emma, I will serve you with all my heart and soul, so please give me another chance!

Nadia: We will devote our lives to you, Lady Emma!

(...This is troubling.)

Prostrating themselves before me, foreheads pressed to the floor, were the two maids who were previously punished by Azel.

They seem to have regained their sanity more than back then, but the moment they pass me in the castle, they assume this position faster than a gust of wind and repeatedly apologize.

Emma: I really don't mind, so please raise your heads.

No matter how many times I say it, my words don't reach them.

I'm at my wit's end, feeling like crying.

Silvio: Jokes aside...

(It was a joke...)

Silvio: Look at how frightened they are. God must have done somethin', right?

Emma: That's true, but I don't know what he did...

Silvio: You know, don't ya? As you can see, they were threatened.

Silvio: Imagine this. If God told ya, "You'll die if you don't do good deeds tomorrow," what would you do?

Emma: ...Even if I was doubtful, I might try to do good deeds.

(Because God's prophecies are a "guaranteed reality.")

Silvio: They were subjected to the same thing. The prophecy of a tragic future turns reality into a nightmare.

Silvio: I don't know what the condition is to wake up from the nightmare...

Silvio: But the fact that they're eager to serve you with all their heart and soul... doesn't that mean something?

(Now that you mention it...)

Silvio: Ha, you're really favored by that greedy bastard, aren't ya?

Silvio's words made my heart leap for some reason.

Emma: Why do you say that?

Silvio: I don't know what these two did, but it means he's set them up to be your absolute allies, right?

Silvio: Even if he does this, it ain't worth a penny to him.

Silvio: The fact that he's doing somethin' that doesn't make him money clearly shows how he values you.

(...)

*flashback*

Azel: I remembered I had an urgent matter. It's extremely troublesome, but...

(...I still don't know the true meaning of that urgent matter.)

(But, if in fact he was just doing everything he could so I wouldn't be humiliated again...)

When my perception changes, my heart also sounds the alarm.

Emma: --Perhaps, that's not it.

Emma: I think it's not for my sake, but for revenge and to protect himself.

Silvio: What's that about?

Emma: I can't tell you the details, but...

(To prevent me from going crazy with the aphrodisiac and attacking Azel.)

(There must be no other meaning.)

*flashback*

Emma: Is it wrong to fall in love with the Living God?

Azel: It's absolutely forbidden.

Azel: Because it's troublesome.

*flashback over*

I let out a small breath and turned to the trembling maids.

Emma: If you have time, there's one thing I'd like to ask of you...

Silvio's guess seemed to be correct, and the two, raising their heads, had their eyes shining as if they had found hope.

Emma: I wonder if you could request an audience with His Majesty the King?

Nadia & Aisha: "We'll call His Majesty right away!"

The two regained their energy like fish in water and disappeared in an instant.

It's normally impossible for a mere book merchant to take the king's time, but they made an immediate decision.

Silvio: They might grant ya any wish, if it's yours.

Emma: I've learned to be careful with my words.

Silvio: If it's bestowed by God, use it without hesitation.

Silvio: By the way, are you goin' to do business with the king?

Emma: No, there's something I want to ask him.

-

Enis: I apologize for the wait.

Before long, I was ushered into the throne room, and His Majesty Ennis welcomed me warmly.

(...The fact that I can summon even the king immediately is scary.)

Enis: Prince Silvio, it's good to see you too.

Silvio: Sorry to interrupt. I'm just an escort.

Silvio: I was curious about what this woman wants to ask the king.

Enis: Oh? I'll answer anything I can.

The silver-haired king smiles cheerfully, not seeming offended by the sudden summons.

Emma: I apologize for taking your time during your busy schedule.

(This might not be something I should ask for an audience and take your time, but...)

Emma: About the prophecy of the end left by the first Living God...

Emma: Prince Azel said it would be good to ask Your Majesty Enis, so I came here.

Enis: ......

Enis: ...I see, the Living God...

(His face changed color...?)

Just like the diviner woman I met in the alley before, it was a reaction as if he wanted to avoid "touching the end."

Enis: Any diviner or member of the royal court knows the prophecy of the end...

Enis: The fact that you specifically named me must be a divine order to give you information that only I know.

Enis sits deeply in his throne and looks up at the ceiling.

His appearance, as if he is thinking of a distant place, is filled with anguish, and I exchange glances with Silvio.

Enis: Of course, I will answer your question.

Enis: But before that, would you listen to one request of mine?

Enis, his gaze back on me, gives me a sincere look.

I don't know what the "request" is, but I don't feel any malice in it.

Emma: I'll be happy to accept if it's something I can do.

Enis: Thank you. Actually--.

-

Azel: I refuse.

Back at the temple, Azel's first words as he was repairing the outer wall were not "welcome back."

Emma: I haven't said anything yet.

Azel: The fact that you came back in a hurry at this hour speaks for itself.

Azel: You have two choices: give up, or have the wealthy gentleman next to you pay me.

Silvio: Why the hell should I pay ya when there's no profit in it for me?

Azel: Prince Silvio, I hear there's a custom of offering coins in Kougyoku.

Azel: It's a wonderful system of faith where you offer money as a thank you for God's blessings...

Silvio: That's what he says, woman.

Emma: I don't want to be squeezed dry anymore.

Azel: Then there's no room for discussion. I'm busy, so...

Azel skillfully applies a glue-like substance made by adding water to lime, as if filling the gaps in the crumbling stone wall.

Emma: It's a request from Enis.

Azel: Why should I listen to the words of a mere king?

Emma: Please, just this once... You just need to show your face at the evening party for a little while.

Tonight, an impromptu evening party hosted by the king will be held at Tanzanite Castle.

The party, which will be attended by influential people from the Land of Illusions, seems to have the intention of gathering information on the unstable situation following the recent riot and showing that God's protection is still in place to build peace of mind for the people.

Emma: I heard that you don't really like parties, Prince Azel...

Azel: Yes. The reason I don't want to attend gatherings of people... Surely you understand, intelligent as you are?

Emma: It's because the participants get restless, right?

Azel: ...What kind of reason is that?

Emma: If you were to attend the party, Prince Azel, the people around you would surely be distracted.

Emma: They wouldn't be able to enjoy chatting, and the party meant for enjoyment would turn into a gathering to worship God...

Emma: I thought that you wouldn't want that to happen.

(I've noticed while spending time with you that despite your mean personality, your kindness shows through here and there.)

I felt that my guess that he was intentionally not participating out of consideration for others was accurate.

Azel: The me in your mind is quite compassionate, isn't he?

Azel: Unfortunately, I have no such noble purpose. It's just bothersome.

Azel: However, it was unexpected that Enis would ask you to do an errand.

Azel: The fact that he's resorting to such a poor way to buy time means that he still hasn't come to terms with the prophecy in his heart...

Azel: It's pathetic that he still can't let go of his emotions even though he's become a puppet.

(Puppet...?)

As if to say the conversation was over, Azel continued his repair work silently.

It seemed he had no intention of listening even if I brought up the king's name, but this was within my expectations.

(When asking Azel for a favor, payment is an absolute condition...)

(However, I don't have an endless supply of wealth like Silvio.)

(I'm glad I prepared a secret weapon before coming here.)

Emma: Prince Azel.

I take out what I had in my pocket and hold it out in front of his mystical eyes.

His work stops.

Azel: ..."Special Service Ticket that grants any wish"...

Silvio: ...!

Ignoring Silvio, who suddenly burst out laughing, I offer the ticket to Azel with both hands.

Emma: This has a monetary value equivalent to repaying all the debt I owe you.

Azel: ...Are you stupid?

Emma: But as a special offer! If you grant my wish, I will give you this ticket for free.

Azel: ...

Emma: Please don't look at me with pity.

Silvio: My stomach hurts... A "do anything you want" ticket for a God... I'm impressed... Haha...!

Emma: You're laughing too much, Prince Silvio!

(I knew it... I knew the chances were slim... but I'm starting to feel embarrassed.)

Azel: ...It's embarrassing, isn't it? Trying to bribe a God with a cheap, childish ticket like this.

Emma: It's a... luxury ticket...

Azel: It has no value to me. In the first place, you still have a huge debt.

Azel: Above all, I am a God who grants people's wishes--aren't you giving it to the wrong person?

(...I want to rewind time right now.)

I cover my flushed face with my hands, but peek at the God's face through the gaps in my fingers--

Azel: Only a fool like you would think of such a ridiculous thing.

(...)

For just a moment--in a fleeting instant that I almost mistook for an illusion, a soft, moon-like smile appeared on his face.

(No, I... I seem to be weak to this face.)

I quickly averted my eyes, feeling as if I had touched something forbidden.

Silvio: Woman, you couldn't seduce the God?

Emma: ...He was too tough.

It seems Silvio didn't see it, so I pretend nothing happened.

Silvio: Well, the king also said "it would be difficult," right? There's no point in givin' up.

Silvio: If you have time to deal with the God, why don't ya go back and prepare for the evenin' party?

Emma: You're right. I think the maids are waiting for me--

As I try to give up and leave Azel, he grabs my hand.

Azel: Why are you attending the evening party?

Emma: His Majesty the King invited me.

Silvio: You wannna gather information for the Rhodolite guys, right?

Emma: That's part of it.

Azel: You, who are drowning in debt, should have the important task of making my dinner.

Emma: There are leftovers from yesterday, so you won't have any trouble with your meal, Prince Azel.

Azel: ...

Emma: Is it... not okay?

(I was invited to the evening party and ended up replying, but maybe that was too hasty.)

Although he doesn't have his usual frown in front of Silvio, I feel pressure from his gentle smile.

Azel: Have you forgotten that you are a debtor? You must prioritize God above all else.

Emma: Prince Azel, could it be that...

Emma: ...are you lonely?

Silvio: ...!

In contrast to Silvio, who burst out laughing again, Azel's smile stiffened.

Azel: You... you have some nerve to insult a God?

Emma: It wasn't an insult, it was an observation.

Azel: That's not something to be proud of. I'm actually relieved that you won't be here.

Emma: Well then, I'll be off to the evening party.

Azel: ...

Emma: Ah, I finally understand. Actually, you're worried-- Ow!

In the end, as always, he pulled my cheek and forcibly silenced me.

Azel: Maybe it's time to consider imprisonment for blasphemy. After paying the fine, of course.

(Not good, not good!)

Silvio: Ha, don't worry so much. I'll accompany you.

Silvio: An escort is essential for Tanzanite evening parties, right?

Silvio: If God isn't coming, I have no choice but to be your partner.

Silvio was grinning broadly, and it was clear that it wasn't just out of goodwill.

(But I'd feel uneasy going alone, so I'll take advantage of his offer this time.)

Azel: ...You're quite the curious one, Prince Silvio.

Silvio: I don't want to hear that from ya, the one who's lettin' an unknown woman live here.

Silvio: If you ain't happy about it, you can come along. You love free meals, don't ya?

Azel: A God cannot easily be involved in worldly affairs.

Silvio: What's that, you money-hungry bastard?

Azel: In the first place, Emma, do you really intend to go?

Azel: Your little head seems to have already forgotten what happened at the royal court.

(He might actually be worried about me.)

(...This is awkward.)

Emma: I'll be careful.

Silvio: I don't know what happened, but I'll be there, so it'll be fine. You owe me one.

As if to rescue me from Azel's clutches, Silvio puts his hand on my shoulder and casually pulls me closer.

Azel: ...Well, fine.

Azel: I don't care at all, not even a little bit, where you go or what you do.

Azel maintains the smile of a merciful God.

But his eyebrows were faintly furrowed.

As if he had seen something unpleasant.

-

Clavis: --Now then, Kumushu. What is this matter that we must discuss away from prying eyes?

Unlike the bustling lobby, the reception room upstairs was filled with silence.

Kumush: I don't like beating around the bush, so let me ask you directly.

Kumush: Are you familiar with the world's calamity, the beast of ruin, the renowned figure known as the ever-victorious general?

Clavis & Luke: "................."

Clavis: ...Of course, we are.

Luke: Why is his name coming up?

Kumush: Actually, there's something I'd like to consult with you about.

The lump that was taken out of the wooden box placed under the table changed the atmosphere of the room.

Clavis: ...This isn't a funny joke, is it?

.

.

.

Chapter 16 Letter

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I just wanna say, I love Silvio in this route. I love that he's kind of an acquaintance and not just a full-on jerk to Emma. And I love that he's making Azel jealous LOL.

[vixen-flame]

I hate the internet so much. My girlfriend is a semi-popular YouTuber (faceless, so the internet isn't aware of our relationship) and some years before we got together the internet did what the internet does and just kept trying to flame her and find reasons to hate her for no reason. Like:

"Oh, she's faking her voice just to keep up her "kid brand."" Her high (and imo incredibly gorgeous and cute) voice is entirely natural, and also she _was_ a literal kid at the time. That's not a "brand," she's just an actual child.

And seeing some people sexualize her is insane (they did it when she was actually underaged. Not to mention she asked for people _not_ to do that. And she's _awful_ at setting boundaries, so that's incredibly telling that that was a boundary she set.)

Also, side tangent but the fact no one else realized she was a system is fxking crazy to me. Like, she does the closest thing to just straight up telling you in several of her animations/comments.

I'm really really really glad that those weirdo fucking people finally got off her ass like a year ago (around when dream kinda dropped off in popularity in the common know-a-sphere.) so now the community she has rn is just extremely chill and kinda and funny, which is nice. It's been really nice watching her streams and her just having fun talking to her chat and her mods and chatters just enjoying her for her. But, my god looking back on those old stuff is just immediate pain in my everything. Especially considering how _young_ she was. I mean, she's lying on the internet about her age to protect herself (you know, from like those weird ass motherfers who flamed her for zero reason), she when she was a kid on the internet, she was _even younger._ And when people s3xualized her when she was "legal" (despite her not wanting that) _she wasn't even fuxking legal._ Just, guh. Whatever sorry for ranting in your post that is most definitely about you I just needed to scream into the void for a sec.

hello my name is drama YouTuber #434255 and today's topic is this transgender creator who became a lolcow so I will do the honors of deadnaming and misgendering them and showing personal information from their personal life including their kinks and sex life and show you how crazy they are by displaying their psychotic meltdowns for thousands to see but they did an oopsie so I am completely justified in dehumanizing this person for bottom of the barrel slop content that's on par with reheated fast food. btw I'm the good guy of all moral standing.