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jimxnslight · 6 months ago

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Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook.

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises.

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month.

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence.

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again.

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence.

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again.

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?”

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him.

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer.

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery.

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now.

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love.

Only power.

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white.

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands.

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle.

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did.

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too.

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin.

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head.

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone.

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him.

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you.

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month.

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof.

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there.

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words.

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be.

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention.

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you.

So he tried not to be unsettled.

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning.

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground.

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance.

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him.

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely.

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax.

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat.

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids.

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly.

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded.

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought.

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly.

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on.

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk.

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding.

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons.

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two.

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them.

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information.

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant.

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful.

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open.

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead.

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space.

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you.

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance.

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well.

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him.

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her.

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now.

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed.

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights.

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee.

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze.

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other.

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything.

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well.

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief.

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne.

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous.

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak.

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster.

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side.

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands.

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later.

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway.

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment.

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again.

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you.

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him.

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer.

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look.

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud.

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes.

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink.

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions.

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold.

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form.

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest.

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

“P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air.

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke.

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout.

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now.

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression.

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation.

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more.

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous.

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow.

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it.

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment.

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly.

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump.

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone.

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak.

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him.

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew.

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick.

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation.

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare.

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response.

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony.

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing.

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze.

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness.

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce.

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

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metranart · 1 month ago

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Will you be Toman’s darling? Mikey can’t seem to stop asking, it’s not enough to be able to fuck you whenever he wants, he needs the title that you’re HIS but not only his but also his mates, those guys he loves more than his own life… and unfortunately, you do as well.

You don’t understand why it’s so important to them, but each one has asked the same question over and over again. Draken kisses you, his tongue dancing with yours while his hips don’t miss a single thrust, it’s delicious, it’s delirious and he only dares to break the kiss to ask. “Will you be ours?” —You don’t answer, just bite his lip and begin to thrust your hips to him, as a way to distract him but he’s not dumb and less of all, a quitter, so he won’t give up, none of them will!

Baji’s strong hands anchor you to him, perched on either side of your hips as he rams you from behind, your eyes have been blank for more than fifteen minutes, his name rolls off your tongue like your private mantra and from his tongue rolls: “Say yes,” his ragged breath demands, “Stop torturing us and say yes, shit!” The answer he wants to hear isn’t spoken but that doesn’t discourage him from cumming deep inside you -marking you from the inside out at least gives him so kind of relieve-….

Mitsuya’s attempts are more tender, kisses and cuddles, your naked bodies tangled in each other, the strong fingers of his fist tangled among your sweaty strands of silky hair, each thrust hitting that special place inside you that makes you see stars, his lips only parting to adore you and when you think you’re safe: “We will take care of you, we will go out of our way for you… just say yes, just grant us that favor—be OURS….”. Apparently being filled by each and every one of these gang members isn’t enough, moaning their names and marking their necks with hickey doesn’t satisfy them, they want you for themselves, they want you in their gang as their banner as their princess.

Mikey is the most stubborn, his fat thumb slides under your skirt, snaking behind your panties, two fingers accompanying it to slip inside you, drumming and circling your clit as if it were the joystick of an Xbox control, your flushed cheeks and half-open lids delight him, makes him drunk and dizzy, just being able to put you in that delirious state. He knows it’s his mission in life to have you like this forever, you’re his, you must conquer Tokyo with them, you must stop resisting and agree to their terms. Mikey doesn’t waste any moment to ask, while he kisses you, while he eats you out, while he makes you cum harder than ever.

“Will you be ours? ....yesyesyesyes-?”

Their teamwork is weakening your good judgment, it’s too much, your knees buckle, and your voice is a permanent moan. Damn! Your shivering lips parted and the gazes of the four gang members shine with hope. Anxiety and stress can be detected in their clenched fists, a heavy silence falls over everyone when you say:

“I’m already yours, why do we need to tag it… I’m not going anywhere.”

There is disappointment, frustration, even anger but also amusement in their features. They won’t accept a refusal. They will just have to keep convincing you, again and again and again. You are stubborn, but so are they.

➡️ FULL NSFW ART of this drabble 🥵

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ev-arrested · 2 years ago

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You can tell the exact mental state of Dick Grayson based on the music he plays in the car

His entire family monitors his listening habits, and if it's anything but things from the list of genres and artists that Dick normally likes while provably mentally stable, they get concerned.

Tim, texting the group chat without Dick in it: Hey, guys, just needed to let y'all know that Dick picked me up today, and he put on an NF song in the car.

Barbara: Fuck, he's depressed.

Steph: Isn't he always?

Barbara: No, like--more than usual.

A week later.

Jason: Y'all, I'm with him rn and he's blasting S&M in the training room. One of you bitches--and I will find out who--triggered some body image issues, and now he's sexualizing himself to cope.

Tim: Did one of you guys call him ugly or smth???

Steph: I would never. I'm not a mean person, unlike you guys.

Damian: Why did you immediately assume it was one of us?

Jason: Because y'all are terrible people.

Tim: I'm not taking this from a literal gang leader.

Jason: But I admit, that is a bit of a jump on my part. It could've been any of Dick's trash friends that he, for some reason, keeps around, so that's on me.

Cass: Monitor him so he doesn't do anything drastic.

Barbara: Let me know if he starts compulsively thinking about becoming a stripper.

Jason: If that happens, there's no saving him.

After Dick returns from Spyral.

Duke: Now this just might be me, but I don't think I ever pegged Dick as a metalhead before he went off to work for Spyral.

Tim: Dear god.

Tim: Don't tell me he's listening to SOAD.

Duke: What even is that.

Jason: System of a Down

Duke: Oh, yeah, it's that.

Tim: NOOOOOOO

Duke: What does that mean???

Barbara: He's self-destructive.

Steph: Isn't he normally?

Barbara: No, like--I mean yes, but more explosively.

Jason: His main goal is to blow up...

Barbara: Don't.

Steph: aND THEN ACT LIKE HE DON'T KNOW NOBODY

Jason: HAH HAH HAH HAH

Barbara: This is serious.

Steph: He's listening to vocaloid. That's....so odd??? @Damian did you have anything to do with this?

Tim: oh my god

Damian: The answer to this question is of high importance: what song is it?

Steph: Do you think I can speak Japanese??

Damian: Ask.

Steph: omg fine.

Steph: He says it's "Assassin Princess" by Mitchie M.

Tim: Hold on lemme listen to this shit

Damian: It's a good song.

Jason: Okay, but what does that tell us?

Damian: It's not a song I ever played for him.

Jason: So you're telling me he's listening to vocaloid independent of you?

Damian: It would appear so.

Jason: Oh, that's bad.

Tim: The song's about a spy and her partner murdering her ex-boyfriend who betrayed her.

Steph: He's feeling vengeful.

Jason: Oh, that's really bad.

Cass: He's playing One Direction.

Barbara: Honestly?? Chances are, he's fine.

Duke: Agreed. He's playing "What Makes You Beautiful", so I doubt it's anything.

Duke: Now if he starts playing shit from their solo careers, we have a problem.

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joe-fuckingtwice-toye · 16 days ago

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george luz. i just love this him so mUCH. he would speak for two, but it seems to me that sitting with him in silence would not be awkward, but rather cozy. in general, with many, but with bill guarnere?? friendship with him would be a real roller coaster ride. we would probably fight a lot, but he looks like a guy who, if you give the right arguments, will agree that he was wrong, but swear under his breath. ah, carwood lipton. it seems to me that with him i would not have the opportunity to have depression at all, like, he would look at me with those warm and understanding eyes of his (like that 🥺), say that this thing needs to be done, and i would just "yeah, perhaps" and do it.

guys I would 100% wanna be friends with in hbo war:

1. harry welsh. I mean it's harry. both in the show and irl he seems like such a swell guy. he's funny and adorable. id listen to all his rants about kitty. probably fell a bit in love with her myself

2. chuckler juergens. #mom friend! always has a blanket or booze ready in case of emergency. would listen to all your problems and be really heartfelt about your conversations too

3. skip muck. sidekick, would absolutely be in cahoots with you. partner in crime, enjoys shenanigans. has a sweet air of innocence around him. i would be laughing every 2 minutes with this guy

4. romus burgin. friend that never lets you down, ever. no matter what he's by your side, ready to jump off a bridge if you're gonna do it too. he's also very compassionate and funny. would give you his water in a desert (if he had any)

5. johnny martin. mysterious, cranky, dry sense of humor, he's just my type of guy. if he likes you he'd be definitely willing to die for you (randlemartin am I right??)

6. robert leckie. now listen - he'd be a handful and probably a lot of trouble but that's what friendship is for!! he's incredibly funny, often drunk and is constantly questioning god and authority idk. he seems fun to tag along with

that's it feel free to add your hbo war buddies

#how do you like my gang #george luz #bill guarnere #carwood lipton #band of brothers #the more important question is: would they like to be friends with me..............

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libraryraccoon · 1 year ago

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Yuu and reader but

But reader is forgettable.

Imagine Reader who arrived in Twisted Wonderland with Yuu, they got along very well together and with Grim, but Yuu and Grim end up abandoning Reader, creating their group of friends that we all know. Reader tries to approach them, become friends with them, but without success.

And then Reader finds himself alone, and everyone acts as if he doesn't exist. So much so that Reader questions his existence and becomes very quiet.

The ghosts realize this and spend time with Reader, and Reader considers them his only true friends. I'm pretty sure Reader would have tried to kill himself to become a ghost and join the ghosts gang but would have failed.

Reader would have stopped going to class, some teachers (Trein and Crewel) would have noticed and talked to him about it.

Reader walks around campus at all hours without anyone noticing him (he would have already been dancing in class and singing loudly and out of tune and no one would have noticed).

In the end, Reader is left alone for so long, talking to no one except the ghosts, that he forgets his name (the ghosts call him "Little Ghost").

And at book 5, he meets Chenya. And this is how it happens :

“What do you do alone ?” Chenya asked.

"Wait... Are you talking to me ?" Reader asked sitting in a tree, looking left and right before looking at Chenya.

"Yeah ? There's no one else around." the cat remarked amusedly.

"Oh- sorry I'm not used to people seeing me !" Reader said with a smile on his face, excited that someone alive was talking to him.

"Huh ? Why ?" Chenya asked, frowning in confusion.

“Well, people still act like I’m not there, like I don’t exist.” Reader explained. “Exept ghosts, you’re the first to talk to me in months !”

“oh…” Chenya looked worried. “And what’s your name ?”

"Oh I'm-huh..." Reader said before frowning.

“Well, hello ‘huh’, I’m Chenya.” Chenya said trying to lighten the mood.

“Nah, nah.. I don’t remember my name.” Reader said sounding scared, his breathing quickening.

“huh ?”

"What's my name? What's my name? Who am I? I forgot? I forgot..."

"Hey, calm down, you'll remember.." Chenya tried to calmly reassure.

"No- no ! You're not supposed to notice me or talk to me ! Go with more important people, people who remember their names, who they are !" (Reader having an existential crisis <3)

In the end, Chenya manages to calm Reader down, and he calls him "Little Ghost" (like ghosts) until they find his name.

After that, Chenya will talk about that as his friends at the RSA (like Neige), and they would do all for create a new identity at Reader and after that they will take him with them at the RSA (The RSA director was the one that have the idea of the new identity).

Sam friends of the other side won't stop crying about "The child that have forget his name", making Sam confused (they never answer at his questions about him).

And Trein would be the one finding out that Reader have left three days later.

If nobody write that, I will write it myself.

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sky-is-the-limit · 9 months ago

Note

I dunno about you but drunk sex slays and the thought of it with one out of the big red dead four (John Arthur Charles or Javier) just makes me 🌊💦💧

Thank you anon for this:))))))))))

WC: 5,117 words.

P: Arthur,John,Javier and Charles x F!Reader

CW: public sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, cowgirl

𝘈𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘳:

You sat by the crackling campfire, the night draped around you like a comforting blanket, waiting patiently for Arthur to return from his outing with Lenny.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the quiet of the night was suddenly shattered by the sound of husky laughter and stumbling footsteps approaching the camp.

Arthur stumbled into view, his usually composed demeanor replaced by a boisterous energy, his laughter ringing out into the night. You watched as he stumbled towards you, his movements unsteady and his words slurred with intoxication.

"Hey there, sweetheart!" He exclaimed, his voice louder than usual, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he approached you, his arms outstretched in an exaggerated gesture of affection.

"Arthur.." You greeted him with a chuckle, reaching out to steady him as he stumbled forward. "You're drunk."

He grinned at you, his usual charm amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins. "Just a bit," He admitted with a laugh, his words slurring together slightly. "But I missed you, darlin'."

As Arthur held you in his drunken embrace, he leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your ear and he whispered, "Come with me, I want to show you something."

Curiosity piqued, you allowed him to lead you away from the camp, the darkness of the trees enveloping you like a cloak. With each step, his intoxicating scent of whiskey and cheap cologne hung in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest.

Finally, he stopped, the trees providing enough secrecy around you. Before you could protest or question his intentions, Arthur pressed you against a sturdy tree trunk, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss.

His embrace was fervent and urgent, fueled by the fire of his drunken desire. His hands roamed eagerly over your body, his touch electric against your skin as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your lips.

///

And that was how you found yourself, dangerously close to getting caught by the rest of the gang, pressed firmly against the rough bark of a tree, stripped naked to his mercy.

The stretch was breathtaking, every centimeter of his length sending electrifying waves of pleasure through you as he pounded away relentlessly. With each rapid thrust, Arthur grunted huskily, his teeth clenched together in sheer determination. His eyes remained fixated on your bouncing form, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"Arthur-" You gasped, your breath coming in ragged bursts, heat flooding your body.

In that moment, every sensation overwhelmed you, yet you yearned for more. There was nothing in this world, in that moment, more important than Arthur Morgan, thrusting into you with an intensity that felt like a primal need with your leg wrapped around his defined torso and his large palms roaming the curves of your body.

''Beautiful-'' He whispered between pants, his voice a husky echo against your skin as he leaned in, his lips tantalizingly close to your quivering flesh.

''You are mine.'' With a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine, he enveloped one hardened nipple in his mouth, drawing it between his lips with a hunger that left you trembling. His tongue danced with an almost predatory insistence, claiming you entirely in a way that left you powerless to resist.

With each of his forceful thrusts, you reciprocated with equal intensity, your nails digging into his forearms with a ferocity that threatened to break skin, and your teeth grazing against his lips as you captured his mouth in a hungry kiss when he turned his face towards you.

''Please- Arthur, please!'' You knew you were babbling, but the overwhelming sensation coursing through your veins left you unable to form coherent words.

''Quiet, sweetheart. You don’t want anyone to catch us, do you?'' Arthur's voice was low, sending shivers down your spine as you struggled to maintain composure amidst the overwhelming waves of lust. His words ignited a fire within you, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling dizzy with desire.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure, your breath coming in short gasps as you tried to focus on just breathing. With each movement of his hips, Arthur's rhythm intensified, the sensation bordering on maddening as he drove himself deeper into you.

''Can you be quiet for me?'' He whispered, his hand moving from your mouth to rest gently on your lower back. You nodded in response, your teeth sinking into your lip as you fought to stifle the moans threatening to escape your lips.

Your body started to shake uncontrollably, tremors coursing through every fiber of your being. With each passing moment, the sensation intensified, rendering your legs numb and leaving every muscle sore and cramped. Even the slightest movement sent waves of soreness rippling through you, threatening to overwhelm your senses.

Despite the haze of alcohol, he remained attentive to your every move, his hands a steady anchor that kept you upright. With a firm grip, he ensured you didn't falter or lose balance, his eyes never wavering from your features as he sought to understand your every emotion.

Hot tears welled in your eyes, a mixture of pleasure and intense emotion that threatened to spill over with each hard motion of his body. Arthur was so deep, so incredibly deep inside of you that it felt as though he was reaching places untouched, bringing pleasure straight to your soul.

Your muscles twitched and spasmed in time with his relentless thrusts, the rhythm of your bodies syncing perfectly as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Each moan that escaped your lips was met with the wet fabric of his shirt, the sound muffled but unmistakable in the heat of the moment.

"Good girl," Arthur murmured, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, a rare smirk gracing his lips, a sight reserved only for moments like these, fueled by the intoxicating effects of alcohol. ''Good fucking girl.'

The pressure building inside of you reached its breaking point, shattering your senses. In that moment, you clung to Arthur desperately, pulling at his hair and digging your nails into his skin as if he were your lifeline.

Open-mouthed cries of pleasure escaped your throat, the intensity of your orgasm too powerful to be contained. Arthur cursed under his breath, his focus solely on maintaining his movements long enough to ride out the wave of your climax.

He could feel you gushing wetness, squirting on his cock and leaking down both of your thighs. He wasn’t strong enough to resist the pleasure that came with the realization that he’d made you spasm so hard your body couldn’t control itself. He followed, pumping his cum deep inside of you while your folds squeezed the life out of him.

Time seemed to stand still as you clung to each other, reluctant to let go of the moment. When Arthur finally pulled away slightly, you whimpered, clinging to him tighter, craving the comfort and reassurance that only he could provide.

''I know, sweetheart. I know." Arthur's voice was soft and comforting as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He could sense the weight of your emotions, knowing that you must be feeling overwhelmed in that moment.

"You did so good.'' He murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back in soothing circles.

𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯:

As you slipped out of your dress, the fabric cascading around your ankles, you felt the weight of the day lifting from your shoulders. The dim light of the lantern cast shadows across the canvas walls of your tent, creating a cozy sanctuary amidst the chaos of the gang outside, singing songs around the fire.

With each button undone, you reveled in the sensation of freedom, relishing the cool air against your skin as you prepared to settle for bed. The soft rustle of fabric echoed in the silence as you reached for your nightgown, a familiar routine that brought a sense of comfort to the end of another long day.

But just as you were about to slip into the warmth of your nightclothes, the tent flap suddenly stirred, and there he was, John. His usually rugged features were contorted with jealousy, his eyes clouded with the haze of alcohol as he stumbled into the tent.

"John?" You exclaimed, surprise and frustration warring within you as you struggled to comprehend his state. "What are you doing here?"

He ignored your question, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of desire and accusation. "You've been spending too much time with Javier!" He slurred, his words heavy with bitterness as he collapsed onto the ground beside you, his drunkenness palpable.

You sighed, feeling a pang of sympathy for him even as irritation prickled at the edges of your patience. "John, I told you. Javier is teaching me how to play guitar. There's nothing between us."

But he wasn't listening, lost in his own insecurities and doubts. With a pout that bordered on childish, he reached out to you, his fingers brushing against your skin in a clumsy attempt at affection.

"I wanna teach you something, too.." He murmured, his voice low and husky, his lips trailing along the curve of your neck as he spoke.

You shivered at the sensation, the heat of his touch sending a thrill racing down your spine. Despite the lingering frustration of his outburst of jealousy, you found yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull of his gaze, drawn to him with an intensity that left you breathless.

"What do you want to teach me?" You whispered, your voice barely more than a soft sigh as you surrendered to the hunger that burned within you.

///

You couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards Javier. His presence close to you eventually led you sinking down on your knees as your jealous lover stood before you. It was as if the flames of his possessiveness ignited a primal need within him, driving him to assert his dominance and claim you as his own.

Letting out a satisfied sigh, you drank in the taste of his precum, reveling in the salty sensation as it danced across your taste buds before John rested his large, calloused hands upon your hair, gently guiding your movements with a firm touch.

His eyes were half-lidded, heavy with want, as you worked your magic, eliciting a drawn-out, staticky moan from deep within his chest.

You flattened your tongue more efficiently, eager to please him, to elicit even the slightest tremor of pleasure from his lips.

For a fleeting moment, a sensation of blazing heat washed over the back of your throat as you released him, lowering your head to place a tender kiss at the base of John's throbbing cock.

As your tongue darted out to caress the prominent vein, tracing its path with delicate precision, he struggled to contain the building pressure threatening to erupt within him.

A loud groan escaped John's lips as he lifted his hips slightly, urging you to take him deeper into your mouth. The unexpected motion caught you off guard and you fought against the instinct to gag, your body instinctively adjusting to accommodate him even as tears welled up in your eyes and began to trickle down your flushed cheeks.

''That's my girl-'' He murmured, his voice hoarsed as he tightened his grip on your hair and with a quick thrust, followed by a sharp gasp, he was sheathed fully in your throat.

You desperately tried not to gag as he continued to exert himself, pulling out of your mouth just to slam his length back in you again. He was using you, like a toy to release his pent-up sexual tension and unreasonable jealousy, and you could not have been more aroused.

"These lips belong to me, understand?" He grunted, punctuating his declaration with another forceful thrust into your throat.

The once defiant man now emitted sounds you had never heard before, a mix of a squeal and a moan, interspersed with gasps for air. You reached out to cup his balls through the fabric of his pants, feeling his member twitch under your tongue.

John drooled, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes tightly shut, his breath heavy, like music to your ears.

But what struck you most was the absence of his usual smirk, instead, a slight frown adorned his face as he gasped with each thrust into the recesses of your throat. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was close to release.

Profanities and shameless moans filled the quiet of the night, ensuring that the rest of the gang members close by would hear. John pulled your hair rather harshly, evidently losing control as he maneuvered your head just the way he desired.

The vibrations of your unfiltered sounds spread throughout his sensitive length, further enhancing the tingling pleasure he was feeling.

Without pause, he continued to fuck your throat with each jerk of your head, thrusting his cock down your throat just as he brought your head down to swallow him whole. Your lewd gags were the most beautiful sounds, and even more so, the thick pools of your saliva that connected your mouth to his length, the most beautiful sight.

The ache between your legs pulsed with each passing moment, the next breath that left your lungs rolling out in a trembling whine. Your skin felt as if it wanted to fly off your body into the next star system, consumed by the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

Without warning, he pushed even deeper, and you understood immediately why. His orgasm ripped through him, eliciting another prolonged groan of satisfaction as his essence coated the back of your throat.

As he finally relented, leaving a strand of saliva and semen bridging your lips, he held his still pulsating member against your face, releasing one final burst that streaked across your forehead and hair.

You gazed at John in absolute awe, your senses still reeling from him soring both your lips and throat as he gradually descended from his euphoric state.

His eyes met yours, a smoldering intensity that made your breath catch in your throat and as he looked down at you, still kneeling before him, he reached out to caress your cheek, his touch gentle. His fingers, coated with remnants of his pleasure, traced delicate, wet patterns along your skin.

You watched, transfixed, as he brought his slickened finger to your lips, wordlessly offering it to you. Without hesitation, you parted your lips, tasting the tang of his salty essence as you obediently licked his finger clean.

Then, with a teasing spark in his eyes, he spoke arrogantly, his words dripping with playful suggestion. "Now go say hi to Javier for me. He'll get the message."

''Fuck you, Marston.'' As you rose to your feet, defiance burned in your eyes, though a hint of shyness tinged your voice.

''Your wish is my command, madam.'' Before you could fully process his words or reach out to him, he moved with unexpected swiftness, seizing your face in his hands and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

𝘑𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘳:

You laid on the plush bed, draped in your silky nightgown, the warmth of the crackling fire beside you seeping into your skin.

As you basked in the warmth, Javier's lips began to trail soft, tender kisses along the expanse of your thighs. Each touch sent ripples of pleasure coursing through your body.

The lingering scent of whiskey and cigarettes clung to him, a testament to the indulgence he had partaken in at the hotel bar downstairs earlier that evening.

Despite his intoxication, Javier worshipped your body with a reverence that left you breathless. With every caress, every kiss, he took his time, exploring every inch of your skin as if it were a sacred temple to be cherished. His adoration was palpable, his actions speaking volumes of his devotion to you.

"Déjame probarte, mi amor. Por favor-" With each tender kiss, his drunken need for you intensified, his movements becoming more urgent.

(t: let me taste you, my love, please-)

You chuckled softly as you looked into his eyes, noticing the signs of intoxication lingering in his gaze.

"You're drunk, Javi.." You remarked with a playful smile, gently teasing him as you tried to reason with him. "Maybe we should just go to sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

But he simply shook his head, his determination evident even in his inebriated state. "I'm not drunk," he protested with a lopsided grin, his words slurring slightly as he leaned closer to you. "Solo estoy disfrutando el momento contigo."

(t: I just want to enjoy this moment with you.'')

Despite not understanding a single word, the melodic rhythm of his speech sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but admire the way his lips formed each syllable, the passion and intensity in every word.

Lost in the moment, you found yourself running your fingers through his hair, savoring the softness beneath your touch.

''Quiero comerte entera, cariño-''

(t: I want to eat you whole, darling-)

Eventually, unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you gently interrupted him, your voice barely above a whisper. "Javi, can you translate that for me?"

Instead of obliging, he simply chuckled, his eyes glistening with mischief as he leaned in closer to your body.

"Let me show you, instead." He murmured, his voice husky as he spoke.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, he reached for the hem of your nightgown, lifting it slowly until it pooled around your stomach.

''Maybe we shouldn't..'' Your breath caught in your throat as you whispered, the words escaping your lips barely audible.

He just snickered, his laughter a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine, and whatever protest or remark you were going to make died down as the tip of his tongue nudged at your clit.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as you leaned back against the soft pillows, your heart pounding rapidly to the sudden touch. With trembling hands, you eagerly shuffled your legs further apart, offering him better access to your throbbing core.

You felt Javier's face burying itself between your thighs, the rough texture of his skin sending electric pulses of pleasure through your body.

The flat of his tongue started to give little kitten licks up and down your folds, each stroke sending waves of sensation coursing through you, always ending on a tantalizing drag against your sensitive pearl.

"Javi-" A little whimper escaped you, hushed and whining, as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure washing over you.

His amber eyes bore into yours as you swore you could feel him smirk against you, his silent amusement adding to the intoxicating mix of sensations.

''Oh god-'' Another chaste kiss to your clit elicited a gasping breath from you, your idle hand tightening its grip in his messy black hair, fingers tangling in the locks as you encouraged him to continue.

You noticed a subtle change in Javier’s movements, a newfound urgency and dedication as he worshipped your body with his mouth.

Your juices began to coat his chin as he held onto your squirming hips, his eagerness showing in the way he practically pulled you down onto his face. With each suck and lick to your clit, he drove you closer to the edge of ecstasy, his ministrations becoming more fervent and desperate.

More keens and moans spilled from your lips as a graze of teeth sent bolts of pleasure through you, the sensation causing you to grind down onto his mouth in a fervour of need.

''Preciosa- fuck-'' There was a humming sound as Javier groaned beneath you, his own arousal taking over as he pleasured you.

A fog of a different kind of intoxication thickened in your mind, clouding your thoughts as you lost yourself in the throes of his lips.

With a certain tilt of your head, you caught sight of Javier jerking off his cock while he continued to devour you, his eyes half-lidded with desire as his tight fist worked up and down his length. The sight of him, slick with pre-cum fluids and swollen with the need to orgasm, only added to your own desperation for release.

The more ferociously he licked your pussy, the harder he stroked himself, his cock leaking slick from that swollen, reddened tip.

Slowly, Javier's middle finger pressed against you, the anticipation causing your breath to hitch in your throat. With a gentle but firm pressure, it slipped inside, encountering little resistance as it delved deeper. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp of pleasure, your body instinctively arching towards him as he filled you.

As his finger bottomed out inside you, a low moan escaped your lips, the sound muffled by the New pressure. You could feel the heat building between your legs, your arousal pooling at the point where his finger met your core.

Javier could sense the subtle changes in your body, the way your cunt fluttered and pulsed around his finger. He reveled in the feeling of you, the way you squeezed him tight, every ridge inside your plush walls a testament to your desire. With each gentle thrust of his finger, he explored the depths of your pleasure, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

He seemed to understand exactly how your body worked, his touch deliberate and calculated as he curled his finger just barely, sending you closer to your climax with each motion.

With a deft flick of his digit, he found your sweetest spot, and he didn't hesitate to exploit it. The sensation was electric, a symphony of pleasure that left you gasping for air. Again and again, he brushed against that sensitive area, each stroke consuming you whole.

You were on the brink of coming undone, your body thrumming with anticipation as Javier's touch sent ripples of pleasure cascading through you. But just as you felt yourself on the cusp, he abruptly pulled away, leaving you stunned and breathless.

Shock was displayed all over your features as Javier chuckled softly, his amusement evident all over his face.

And then, with a gentle but deliberate movement, Javier closed the distance between you, his eyes locked with yours as his hands roamed over your body.

''You're going to finish with me inside you, amor.''

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴:

As you walked towards the tranquil lake, away from the loud celebration of the gang's successful mission, the ethereal glow of the bright moon above casted a shimmering path across the water. The night air was crisp and cool against your skin, offering a welcome respite from the warmth of the fire.

Finding a secluded spot by the water's edge, you sat down and dipped your fingers into the cool, refreshing liquid, splashing it onto your face and shoulders in an attempt to wash away the remnants of the long day but before you could repeat the gesture, a pair of strong, familiar hands settled on your hips, sending a shiver down your spine.

Giggling, you turned to find Charles standing behind you, his breath heavy with the scent of whiskey. Despite his usual resilience to alcohol, it was clear that tonight's celebration had gotten the better of him. He had accepted Sean's challenge to see who could drink the most, and it seemed he had emerged on the losing end.

''Mhm, Charles-'' A whimper escaped your lips as his lips trailed along your skin with a newfound hunger, his breath hot against your neck.

Even in his inebriated state, Charles remained relatively quiet, his usual reticence undisturbed by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

However, there was a noticeable shift in his demeanor as his breath grew louder and heavier against your skin. With each kiss, his tongue teased and tantalized, promising the emergence of vivid purple marks on your skin in the morning.

A sudden gasp escaped your lips as he stumbled backwards, pulling you along with him. With a surprising agility, he managed to find purchase on a tree log, his body sinking onto it as he settled into a seated position with you straddling his thighs.

''Mm, need you, angel.'' Charles cooed softly, his touch tender as he rested his palm under your jaw. With a deft movement, he brought your face closer to his, his intent clear as he sought to capture the perfect view of your dazed eyes.

''Anything for my man.'' You whispered softly, your voice barely above a breath as you cradled his face in your hands

Wordlessly, you moved with anticipation, your hands trembling slightly as you slid down the waistband of his pants. As you did, you felt the warmth radiating from his clothed cock, the heat passing along your cheeks in a tantalizing wave.

With each inch of fabric you peeled away, the excitement grew even more as the cotton material finally wrapped around his muscular thighs.

A low hiss escaped Charles' lips as the brief contact of cold air brushed against his freed cock, causing it to spring to life with eager anticipation. The sound of it slapping heavily against his bruised stomach filled the air, echoing in the stillness of the night as the voices of your fellow gang members seemed to fade in the distance.

He was huge, his length extending well beyond his navel and the thickness of it easily comparable to your wrist.

With delicate precision, you used your fingertips to guide the hard length of him to your entrance, feeling the anticipation building with each passing moment.

As you started to sink down, the bulbous head of his cock dipped into the flesh of your labia, the pressure forcing the meaty lips to spread for him.

''Oh, my-'' A faltering breath escaped your lips as you sucked it in, a desperate attempt to steady yourself against the overwhelming sensation.

The lack of good preparation made the penetration a slow and deliberate process, each inch of him breaching your body with torturous slowness. Despite it all, the searing burn that accompanied his entry, only made you bask in the intensity of the sensation, your senses consumed by the pleasure of it all.

He breached your body one agonizing fraction at a time, the pressure just giving the right amount of painful as he pushed deeper inside you.

Finally, the glans of his cock popped through the first barrier, a primal moan escaping your lips as you stilled above him. With a newfound determination, you bore down on him again, the unbidden sound of your whimpers like music to his ears.

''You feel so-, so good-''Charles responded with a deep, rumbling noise, the barely coherent words reverberating through the air only to fuel your need to please him even more.

You choked on a disgruntled squawk as he lifted his hips, forcing himself another inch or so inside you. The sudden movement caught you off guard, causing you to sway above him, the tension in your loins doubling and threatening to overwhelm you.

''Mhm-'' Groaning deep in the back of your throat, you haltingly pivoted your hips, up, down, up and down.

Each movement a deliberate effort to loosen your passage and coat him in more arousal. With each motion, you felt the tension in your body ease, the sensation of him sliding against your inner walls igniting a fire within you.

As you started to lower yourself again, just a brief moment later, the penetration came easier, Charles' cock slipping effortlessly against your slickened walls until you were fully seated on his lap. With a heady sigh of pleasure, you tossed your head back, the sensation overwhelming your senses.

Taking advantage of your exposed vulnerability, Charles seized the opportunity to squeeze your breast in a tight grip, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

''Look at you-'' He breathed, his voice heavy with adoration. ''So lovely when you’re enjoying yourself like this.''

Your whole body heaved and lurched at his praise, every single muscle in your shuddering frame locking up as you clamped down on him so hard it physically hurt.

A primal scream tore from your throat, echoing into the night sky as pure, unadulterated bliss rushed in to swarm your senses, completely overriding the faint discomfort of being stretched to the absolute limit.

In response to your climax, Charles groaned, his own pleasure evident as he let you ride out the waves of your ecstasy on his excitedly jumping cock. His hands grasped at your sides, fingers digging into the love handles he found there, holding onto you as if you were a lifeline in the midst of a storm.

Like a wild beast, you clawed at his flesh, your nails leaving red marks in their wake as you desperately sought release. His arms, shoulders, chest, anything you could reach became a canvas for your frenzied need as you bucked and spasmed throughout the throes of your ecstasy.

It was the sporadic squeezing of your cunt that finally milked the orgasm right out of him. You felt him stiffen beneath you, a grunt escaping his tightly clenched teeth as he violently twitched inside your body.

The abrupt pressure on your sweet spot had you seeing stars, your breath hitching as you swayed unsteadily on top of him, both of you lost in the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

It took you a prolonged moment to start coming down from the blinding rush of endorphins, your senses still swimming in the aftermath of ecstasy. Each breath came short and quick, the air feeling heavy against your chest as you struggled to regain your composure.

Your skin was sticky with sweat and it effectively glued you to him, making even the simple act of lifting your head a taxing effort.

As you laid there, basking in the warmth of his embrace, you became aware of Charles gently petting your head, his touch a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

His fingers traced delicate patterns through your hair, smoothing down the unruly strands with a tenderness that brought a smile to your lips.

"Should I go thank Sean for this?" You murmured tiredly, the words slipping from your lips in a hazy whisper.

In response, Charles mumbled softly, his voice laced with warmth and affection, "Mhm, funny if you think that I'm gonna let you go anytime soon." The words were spoken with a hint of playfulness, the alcohol clearly waking him up instead of the opposite.

#need to take a few breaks in between John's part cause FUCCCKKKK #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #john marston #john marston smut #john marston x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella smut #javier escuella x reader #charles smith #charles smith smut #charles smith x reader #van der linde gang

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mariacallous · 29 days ago

Text

This is a gift article

In the final week of this election season, the Republican Party is running two different campaigns. One of them is an ugly and angry but conventional political enterprise. Donald Trump and other Republicans make speeches; party operatives seek to get out the vote; money is spent in swing states; television and radio advertisements proliferate. The people running that campaign are focused on winning the election.

Last night, in New York City’s Madison Square Garden, we caught a glimpse of the other campaign. This is the campaign that is psychologically preparing Americans for an assault on the electoral system, a second January 6, if Trump doesn’t win—or else an assault on the political system and the rule of law if he does. Listen carefully to the words of Tucker Carlson, the pundit fired from Fox News partly for his role in lying about the 2020 election. Warming up the crowd for Trump, he mocked the very idea that Kamala Harris could win: “It’s going to be pretty hard to look at us and say, ‘You know what? Kamala Harris, she got 85 million votes because she’s so impressive as the first Samoan Malaysian, low-I.Q., former California prosecutor ever to be elected president.”

“Samoan Malaysian” was Carlson’s way of mocking Harris’s mixed-race background, and “low-IQ” is self-explanatory—but “85 million” is a number of votes she could in fact win. And how, Carlson suggested, could there be such a “groundswell of popular support” for a person he demeaned as a mongrel, an incompetent, an idiot? The answer was clear: There can’t be, and if anyone says it happened, then we will contest it.

All of this is part of the game: the Trump campaign’s loud confidence, despite dead-even polls; its decision, in the final days, to take the candidate outside the swing states to New York, New Mexico, and Virginia, because we’ve got this in the bag (and not, say, because filling arenas in Pennsylvania is getting harder); the hyping of Republican-early-voter numbers, even though no evidence indicates that these are new voters, just people who are no longer being discouraged from voting early. Also the multiple attempts, across the country, to remove large numbers of people from the rolls; the many claims, with no justification, that “illegal immigrants” are voting or even, as Trump implied during the September debate, that illegal immigrants are being deliberately imported into the country in order to vote; Vance’s declaration that he will accept the election results as long as “only legal American citizens” vote.

At Madison Square Garden, Trump doubled down on that rhetoric. He repeated past claims about the “invasion” of immigrants; about “Venezuelan gangs” occupying American cities, even Times Square; and he offered an instant solution: “On day one, I will launch the largest deportation program in American history to get these criminals out. I will rescue every city and town that has been invaded and conquered, and we will put these vicious and bloodthirsty criminals in jail.” But he left open the question of who exactly all these “criminals” might be, because he seemed to be talking about not just immigrants but also his political opponents, “the enemy within.” The United States, he said, “is now an occupied country, but it will soon be an occupied country no longer … November 5, 2024, nine days from now, will be Liberation Day in America.”

The insults we heard from many speakers at Madison Square Garden, including the description of Puerto Rico as “garbage” or of Harris as “the anti-Christ” or of Hillary Clinton as a “sick son of a bitch”—insults that can also be heard in a thousand podcast episodes featuring Carlson, Elon Musk, J. D. Vance, and their ilk—are part of the same effort. Trump’s electorate is being primed to equate his political opposition with infection, pollution, and demonic power, and to accept violence and chaos as a legitimate, necessary response to these primal, lethal threats.

As I wrote earlier this month, this kind of language, imported from the 1930s, has never before been part of mainstream American presidential politics, because no other political candidate in modern history has used an election to undermine the legal basis of the American political system. But if we are an occupied country, then Joe Biden is not the legitimately elected president of the United States. If we are an occupied country, then the American government is not a set of institutions established over centuries by Congress, but rather a sinister cabal that must be dismantled at any price. If we are an occupied country, then of course the Trump administration can break the law, commit acts of violence, or even trash the Constitution in order to “liberate” Americans, either after Trump has lost the election or after he has won it.

This kind of language is not being used accidentally or incidentally. It is not a joke, even when used by professional comedians. These insults are central to Trump’s message, which is why they were featured at a venue he reveres. They are also classic authoritarian tactics that have worked before, not only in the 1930s but also in places such as modern Venezuela and modern Russia, countries where the public was also prepared over many years to accept lawlessness and violence from the state. The same tactics are working in the United States right now. Election workers, whose job is to carry out the will of the voters, are already the subject of violent threats and harassment. At least two ballot boxes have been attacked.

The natural human instinct is to dismiss, ignore, or downplay these kinds of threats. But that’s the point: You are meant to accept this language and behavior, to consider this kind of rhetoric “baked in” to any Trump campaign. You are supposed to just get used to the idea that Trump wishes he had “Hitler’s generals” or that he uses the Stalinist phrase “enemies of the people” to describe his opponents. Because once you think that’s normal, then you’ll accept the next step. Even when that next step is an assault on democracy and the rule of law.

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disneytva · 1 month ago

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Phineas And Ferb New York Comic-Con Panel Gets The Band Back Together To Discuss The Upcoming Revival

Today at New York Comic Con, Disney Branded Television officially revealed the voice cast for the highly anticipated new season of “Phineas and Ferb.” For the first time in over a decade, co-creators and executive producers Dan Povenmire and Jeff “Swampy” Marsh reunited with the rest of the beloved cast at their NYCC panel today, which also included an exclusive sneak peek of the new season.

Photos by 📷Galileo908

Phineas And Ferb panel was packed with the whole cast and crew on stage as the panel showcases interviews when the show debuted all the way back in 2008.

Vincent Martella calls the show “the most important thing” he’s ever worked on.

Ashley Tisdale mentions that she's very joyful to be here with the fans after giving birth just 6 weeks ago.

Caroline Rhea mentions that the series is one of her favorites to ever be a part of. Rhea jokes "Don't tell Sabrina"

Dee Bradley Baker says that the show has been “perfect” since the start. "there's timelessness to it, i feel it will make it go on forever"

Alyson Stoner recalls that multiple people go up to her and quote Isabella in different languages all the time

Dave Errigo Jr gets emotional on the opportunity of joining the Phineas & Ferb family all way back in 2018 with "The Phineas and Ferb Effect" from "Milo Murphy's Law"

Vincent Martella jokingly says that he has been spiraling since the show ended even he had no idea if the show would come back.

Candace is Ashley Tisdale's favorite character beacuse it allows her to be "crazy"

As previously reported, Dan & Swampy confirm that the revival takes place one year later during the duo’s next summer vacation.

Povenmire & Swampy mention that “Things are elevated”. They tease the incorporation of new stories, dynamics and ideas that they couldn’t quite figure out how to do them on the original run.

Dan Povenmire & Jeff Swampy Marsh tease that the music for Season 5 has been their favorite so far.

Dan Povenmire & Jeff Swampy Marsh show a clip of the first episode of the revival. The clip starts with Phineas, Ferb and the gang on their last day of school.

Doof spent the last year being good, now he’s evil again

“We’re Getting The Band Back Together.” is one of Dan and Swampy's favorite episodes because "it’s so thematically rich."

When asked about why there are 104 days of summer vacation within the show. "Nobody checked. It just sounded right" - The whole cast and crew confess

During the final question Dan and Swampy acknowledge Candace’s flip phone. They agree that it’s obsolete but say that at the time the show was created everyone had one.

Swampy says that the work he and Dan Povenmire have done on the show have made him feel incredibly lucky. Swampy mentions that he would love to continue working on the show forever.

Ashley Tisdale closes the panel screaming “Mom, Phineas and Ferb are making another season!” in Candace's voice.

“Phineas and Ferb” Season 5 is scheduled to debut next year on Disney Channel and Disney+.

#Phineas And Ferb #Phineas & Ferb #Dan Povenmire #Jeff Swampy Marsh #Disney Channel #Disney+ Original Animated Hybrid Series #Disney Plus Original Animated Hybrid Series #New York Comic Con #New York Comic-Con #New York Comic Con 2024 #New York Comic-Con 2024 #NYCC #NYCC 2024

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lordprettyflackotara · 1 month ago

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danger || masky & eyeless jack

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: threesome! congrats you take a trip to paris! exhibitionism, breeding, slight size kink, rough sex, degrading, face fucking

Masky did not consider himself a selfish man.

If anything he thought of himself to be reasonable.

So when it came to meeting you by mistake, a stereotypical robbery he was performing going wrong, he didn’t consider himself selfish for not killing you.

If anyone knew the proxies golden rule of never being able to be traced it was him. But maybe he was selfish when it came to you. You were a little small town receptionist in a town he frequented. Not necessarily for missions, but he passed through frequently. If anyone knew of your existence you’d be terminated on the spot. You knew Masky lived a fast and unpredictable life, but he made sure to keep you in the shadows as to why or how. He figured you just accepted that he was in a gang or the mafia or something. It would be the most logical assumption, especially with the mask glued to his face and off putting name. Still though, Masky found himself going to see you every chance he got. As time went on he began accepting and asking for more solo missions, using the extra tasks as an excuse to see you.

He thought he had done a damn good job of keeping you safe from his terrifying life, until you had followed him into the forest as he trudged home.

It was nothing but morbid curiosity that led you to nip at Masky’s heels as you followed him. You were surprised he hadn’t heard you, your lover stopping at the forest line. Your eyes widened at the sight of a large seemingly unoccupied mansion that sat in the middle of a well trimmed field. Many questions ran through your mind, the most important one being: why would Masky willingly live here? It wasn’t necessarily out of character but it wasn’t the most flattering choice. Your boyfriend was ominous and mysterious, purposefully keeping you in the dark about his life. At first it was intriguing, but the longer he kept the affair going, the more curious you became. Despite the relationship revolving around sex, you wanted to discuss taking things to the next level. Maybe instead of raw dogging in your car you could try a movie instead. You couldn’t think of a better way than showing him you were serious by showing your dedication.

Most people wouldn’t follow their possible mafia boyfriend into a patch of secluded woods, but nevertheless you did so. You thought maybe he realized you were there, inhaling his cigarette as he stood at the forest line. “Hey there,” You greeted excitedly. Masky jumped at the sound of your voice, realizing he was too lost in his own thoughts to hear you follow him. “Princess? What the fuck are you doing here?” He snapped, becoming increasingly panicked. There were many horrific scenarios that could occur with you being here. It was a miracle The Rake hadn’t heard your heart beating or smelled you. The next terrifying scenario was Smile Dog smelling you, but he remembered Jeff took him and Nina on a late night killing spree. They called themselves ‘the triple threat’, which until now Masky thought was incredibly stupid. He now was suddenly thankful for Jeff and his inflated ego.

Next was The Operator, who could most likely read your thoughts. If he suspected an unwelcome guest was on the property he would know to search. Otherwise unless he physically ran into you, Masky doubted that would be a problem. His eyes widened as he realized the last scenario, was undoubtedly the most realistic and the least preventable. “I followed you. I think it’s time to take things to the next level and-” You began, Masky roughly grabbing your arm and cutting you off. He yanked you into the clearing, bee lining straight for the house. “Ow! Masky what the hell?!” You hissed, The brunette angrily threw his cigarette on the lawn, stomping on it and trudging closer to the mansion. You began to try to pull away when he didn’t answer, this only angering him further. In a fit of rage he turned around, glaring down at you. “Do you have any idea what kind of danger you’re in by being here?” He seethed.

“Relax no one knows i’m here, it’s not like they can smell me,” You argued. Masky pulled you further, clenching his jaw. “Actually princess, they can,” He barked. He threw open the back kitchen door, looking around before dragging you inside. “You need to stay quiet, just stay behind me,” Masky whispered. He loosened his grip on your arm, slithering it down to your hand. You intertwined your fingers with his, allowing him to lead you further into the unsettling mansion. Masky peaked around the corner, Ben passed out on the living room couch with an open bag of doritos on his chest. “Who is that-” You began to whisper, Masky hissing at you to shush. You zipped your lips, trailing behind him as he led you up the stairs. Masky was acutely aware of how intense the situation was, his heart racing. Any creep could come home at any time, which would result in your untimely demise. You followed him down the seemingly endless hallway, looking around and noting the countless doors that lined each wall.

Masky yanked open his bedroom door, throwing you inside and shutting it quickly. He fiddled with the lock, dead bolting it before turning to you. “You need to listen to me very carefully, you are in grave danger being here,” Masky said as calmly as he could muster. You sarcastically chuckled, crossing your arms. “Oh cmon, what could your mafia friends possibly do to me?” You asked naively. Masky turned on his bedside lamp, illuminating the serious expression on his face as he took off his mask. “I am not in the goddamn mafia. I live amongst immortal serial killers that would tear your organs out if they knew you were here,” He rambled. He ran his fingers through his hair, his brain racking itself for a solution. “Masky if you don’t want us to be anything more than fuck buddies just say so don’t make up some elaborate lie,” You argued flatly. Masky turned to you, gripping your forearms. “Elaborate lie??? Are you fucking listening to me?” He hissed.

It was a loud knock on Masky’s door that interrupted your argument, the two of you looking over at the door in horror. “You weren’t lying were you?” You whispered. If Masky didn’t know who was at the door he would’ve rolled his eyes. “No I wasn’t now hide,” He whispered aggressively. You threw yourself around his bed, crawling underneath it. Dust buddies danced around your body as you tried to hold your breath, Masky opening the door. He wasn’t surprised to see Eyeless Jack standing outside. His mask hid his facial expression, making his presence ominous. “EJ!” Masky greeted, trying to not visibly sweat bullets. Jack didn’t move, standing completely still. “Masky,” He replied flatly. You itched your nose, the dust buddies violating your nostrils as you hid under the bed. You couldn’t see the horrific monster that was Eyeless Jack, hiding under the bed only allowing you to see his large boots. “What uh, what brings you here?” Masky asked as calmly as possible. Jack tilted his head to the side, his ears twitching. “I think we both know why i’m here Masky,” He said coldly.

Masky threw his hands up sarcastically, leaning on the bedroom door. “No not at all would you like to elaborate?” Masky asked. You cringed as you tried to itch your nose, the dust causing you to awkwardly try to put your sleeve over your face. It was then you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You sneezed, Masky trying his hardest not to turn around. “Did your bed just sneeze?” Jack asked. Masky grabbed Jack by his sleeve, dragging him inside of his bedroom. He shut the door. You awkwardly took it as you cue to crawl out from under the bed, meeting the assertive gazes of Jack and Masky. Jack extended his hand for you to take, helping you rise to your feet. You stared up at him in awe, visibly gawking at his overbearing height. “Do I want to ask?” Jack questioned. Masky awkwardly shuffled his weight on each leg. “Jack this is my girlfriend….” Masky said, his voice trailing off. With wide eyes you waved, Jack’s eye sockets narrowing under his mask.

“Bringing another human here with a loud ass heartbeat like that wasn’t the brightest idea,” Jack said. Masky ran his fingers through his hair anxiously, before digging in his pockets for a cigarette. “He can hear my heartbeat?” You whispered to Masky, who side eyed you before returning his attention to Jack. He sighed, finally finding a cigarette in his pocket. “Jack you do so much for me I need you to do me one final solid and help me transport her out of here alive,” Masky said. You looked back and forth between the two.

“Uh Mask that sounds just a little bit traffick-y if you know what I mean-”

The death glare he delivered demanded that you be quiet, but the two of you were awaiting Jack’s response. “What’s in it for me?” The demon asked, his large hands leaving his hoodie pockets. You couldn’t help but notice the dark ash color that seemed to be his skin tone, your heart pounding even faster. “Whatever you want Jack, seriously, i’m in your debt,” Masky rambled. Being in debt and/or owing a favor to anyone in the mansion was practically a death sentence, but he’d do anything for you. Jack looked over at you, causing you to stand more awkwardly. His gaze went up and down, scanning your body. Masky immediately picked up on what he was doing, clenching his jaw. “Nuh uh no way EJ, burn in hell,” He growled. He fumbled to find a lighter, finally locating one in his coat. “My seasonal heat is only a few days away. If I release appropriate steam beforehand perhaps I won’t accidentally terrorize Jane this year,” Jack fully proposed. Your mind swirled at the phrase ‘heat’, instantly trying to dissect the meaning. “So what? You want a threesome?” Masky questioned through gritted teeth. Jack sighed, watching the proxy scramble to light his cigarette. “Of course not, i’d expect you to watch. I don’t think you could keep up with my pacing,” Jack denied.

The realization of what was happening made your eyes widen, a chill running down your spine as you watched the two bicker. You loved Masky endlessly, but the sight of a giant demon requesting to have sex with you so formally was turning you on. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you found yourself terrified but also aroused as to what such an unpredictable monster could do to you. Masky was rambling at this point, before Jack stopped him.

“She wants me.”

“What? EJ you’ve lost your goddamn mind-”

“I can smell her.”

The silence in the room was heavy as Masky’s gaze fell on you. “Really princess?” He asked. You watched him inhale his cigarette like he always did, something different crossing his eyes. Nodding, Masky then sighed. “Alright fine, whatever it takes to keep her alive. I’ll be in the corner watching though. Gotta make sure you won’t eat her,” Masky agreed. You watched him grab a wooden chair, pulling it and sitting on it in the corner of the room. His legs were spread as he slid his mask back on, hiding his facial expression as he watched you face Jack. “Uh hi,” You greeted awkwardly. Jack had a sinister grin curling up his lips under his mask as he looked down at you. “I’m not much of a talker, just let me know if things are too much for you, alright?” The demon asked. You nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. Jack crawled on top of you, guiding you to lay on your back. Anxiously you closed your eyes, feeling him lift his mask to kiss your neck. He could feel the blood pumping through your veins, with each kiss, his own heart beginning to race.

Jack couldn’t recall the last time he had a mate during his heats and he planned on taking full advantage of the situation. And with you being a small human girl, he knew his plans would go very smoothly. It was easy to please a woman, he thought. He sucked and nipped at your skin, his razor sharp teeth grazing your skin. “If I see blood i’ll have your head EJ,” Masky interrupted, his voice cold and dripping with venom. Jack brought his large hands to your breast, ignoring Masky’s comment. He could smell your arousal becoming more apparent, the demon almost sure your panties were soaked by now. He palmed at your nipples through your shirt, quite frankly finding himself becoming impatient. Unfortunately though due to the size difference you’d need prep work. It was taking Jack everything in him to not bend you over in front of the proxy and fuck you senseless. He kissed down your stomach, relishing in the sight of your hips bucking upwards eagerly. “You can be loud you know, won’t bother me at all,” Jack hummed. You were sure your face was red, the embarrassment of his words and Masky’s endless stare humiliating you. “R-Right of course,” You swallowed, the demon’s long fingers looping through the hoops of your jeans.

In a swift motion he pulled them down, exposing your lacey pink panties. “How cute is this, did you wear these just for Masky?” Jack asked, his mischievous smile allowing you to see his rows of razor sharp teeth. You babbled an agreement, your hips bucking upwards with desperation. Goosebumps trailed across your skin as he began to pull your panties downwards with his teeth, the pointy ends tearing at the fabric. By the time it reached your ankles it was a pile of scraps, one Jack threw at Masky before nuzzling back in between your thighs. He ran two fingers up and down your slick, collecting your arousal before shoving it back inside of you. Jack’s fingers were much longer than your lovers, your back arching off of the bed once he curled them. “There we go, why don’t you relax and loosen up for me?” Jack purred. The feeling of your walls clinging to his digits were only making his cock harder, your thighs attempting to close as Jack unexpectedly began to ruthlessly finger fuck you. He didn’t bother going slow, knowing you were beyond eager to have him ruin you as a show for your pretty human boyfriend. Masky had already finished his first cigarette, going for a second one as his cock grew harder in his jeans. His pride refused to let him admit seeing you melt for a demon aroused him.

His fingers abused your g spot, his other large hand prying your thighs open and forcing you to take what he was giving you. You were seeing stars, your sinful moans surely loud enough for the mansions other residents to hear. “Awe, doesn’t that feel good human? So impossibly good?” Jack chuckled darkly, watching your thighs begin to tremble. You grabbed onto his wrist in an attempt to slow him down, unable to control your body from chasing its first orgasm. “Wow would you look at that. About to cum already? That must be some sort of world record, don’t you agree Masky?” Jack asked sarcastically, grinning as he pinned one of your thighs down onto the bed. Masky clenched his jaw, inhaling his cigarette as reached your first climax. Jack’s motions were not only rough but ruthless, finger fucking you through your orgasm as your vision turned white. You were palming at the sheets, Jack quick to rearrange you once you had rode out your high. You could barely process it as Jack put you on all fours, grabbing your ass and guiding it against his cock. Masky narrowed his eyes as you eagerly tried to wiggle your ass against Jack, desperate for him to get on with it.

Jack gripped at the mounds of your ass, spreading them open and examining your holes. “You sure did pick a pretty one Masky,” He complimented, your face flushing as you heard him unzip his pants. The demon teased you with the tip of his cock, your body stiffening. You had never seen nevertheless felt such a large cock, your anxiety rising as he collected your slick. “Arch your back human, give Masky a proper show,” Jack encouraged, pushing himself inside of you. Surprisingly it didn’t take long for the impossible stretch to become feasible, your walls milking Jack’s cock as he sank deeper into you. Along with this satisfaction came your moans, the demons name finally falling off of your tongue. The sound of that pushed Masky to the limit, the proxy flicking his cigarette to the side and rising from his chair. Angrily he grabbed a fistful of your hair, unzipping his jeans. “This wasn’t apart of the agreement,” Jack hummed, his cock buried inside of your cunt. He hadn’t moved yet, curious to see what the proxy would do. “I don’t give a shit. No girl of mine is gonna be moaning your name,” Masky huffed, shoving down his jeans and boxers.

The sight of your aching boyfriend’s cock made you roll out your tongue, your mouth practically watering at the sight of it. Masky was quick to stuff your mouth with his shaft, causing you to choke as he pushed you down further onto him. Jack took this as his cue to begin fucking you, his slender fingers digging into your ass as he snapped his hips into yours. You braced yourself as best as you could, Masky groaning as he shoved himself down your throat. “Dirty fuckin whore, gettin’ off to me and a demon ruining you? Pathetic,” Masky snarled. It infuriated him to see you enjoying Jack’s cock as much as you were, your body shaking with ecstasy as you were squished between both men. But something about the humiliation of seeing you enjoy it so much did something for the proxy, whether or not he wanted to admit it. He shoved himself further down your throat, watching you gag on his cock. Saliva dripped down the sides of your mouth, tears flooding your waterline. “You picked a fine mate. Is very easy to breed it seems,” Jack added, noting your walls fluttering around him as he spoke the statement. “Fuckin slut,” Masky growled, yanking forcefully at your hair and making you gag on his cock. Your moans were nothing but extra vibrations for Masky to enjoy, your ability to breathe delightfully restricted in the best way.

Jack’s thrust were merciless, the urge to breed you forever clouding his mind as he focused on the task at hand. Masky wanted nothing more than to see you suffer for his own pleasure, face fucking you as roughly as he possibly could. “You’re such a fuckin slut you’re gonna let a demon cum in you? Really? Stupid bitch,” Masky rambled, feeling his own high coming on. Jack’s fingers were leaving indented bruises on your ass, his cock abusing your cervix with each thrust as he pushed you further and further towards your boyfriend’s cock. You were on a mind numbing high, your body convulsing as you unexpectedly came again. You were too dazed to think, allowing your body to go slack and expecting both men to keep you upright. It wasn’t long before both men filled both of your holes. “Dont swallow my cum slut, stick out your tongue,” Masky barked. You did as instructed, smudged mascara and lipstick down your face. You could feel Jack’s warm cum fill up your womb, so much so extra semen was dripping down your cunt. The demon rounded the bed, joining Masky’s side as they stared at you. You were humiliated as their cum dropped down your tongue and abused cunt.

“What a filthy fuckin cum dump.”

“You seem to be right on that.”

“What’d you say we fill her up some more? She still has another hole to fill after all.”

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ckret2 · 6 months ago

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Chapter 54 of everybody being really eager to kill their prisoner human Bill Cipher for good: the gang's trying a new way to create fuel for the one weapon guaranteed to destroy Bill.

It goes so great.

As Ford drove to Northwest Manor, Dipper skimmed through the introduction to Flatworld, where Edward Bishop Bishop was pretending that his book had been dictated to him by a sentient square; but he couldn't focus on it. He sighed, shut the book, and stared out the passenger window at the passing trees.

"Something on your mind?" Ford asked.

"I'm thinking about the Axolotl's poem again. The one about Bill."

"Ah. Still trying to remember the rest?"

"Kinda. Mabel and I are working on it together," Dipper said. "But it's not that. I've just been wondering... what if the poem is... you know, part of a prophecy about Bill or something? Mabel remembered another line of the poem—'A different form, a different time.' What if the Axolotl was telling us why Bill's back as a human? Maybe we need him here—to, to use his powers to fight off a bigger threat or something. Do you think that's possible?" He held back another question: what happens if we kill him before then?

Ford frowned thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about the Axolotl as well," he said. "About the worlds I visited that called it a god of criminals, tyrants, and luck. That sounds to me like the exact kind of being that would be Bill's ally. And it's odd how resistant Bill was to telling us anything about the Axolotl, when it simply passed over town for a few seconds and then moved on. Why the secrecy? How does Bill think it benefits him for us not to know about it?" Ford shook his head. "I think you're on to something, Dipper—I think whatever the Axolotl told you is important. The question is: important for whom?"

Dipper's stomach turned. The Axolotl had radiated such kindness; it was hard for Dipper to believe it could be up to anything evil with Bill. But then—Dipper clutched at Flatworld with the damning biography on the back—but then, how many people had Bill himself fooled with the benevolent teacher act?

Dipper understood now why "Don't Trust Bill" had so quickly turned into "Trust No One." Even when you knew that there was only one real enemy—even when you knew that most people out there were still reasonably honest and friendly—you could never tell just how far Bill's shadow stretched. "I guess that's true. We can't really know."

"We can't know yet. But it is worth trying to figure out," Ford said. "I wish I could tell you where to start looking for answers. For now... we'll just have to consider anything possible."

Ford was right. But all the same, every time Dipper paranoidly asked himself What if Grunkle Ford is right, what if the Axolotl really is on Bill's side, a second, even more paranoid, even more worried voice asked, But what if he isn't?

####

When they arrived, Fiddleford was already in his lab, hard at work on the miniature particle accelerator they'd come to see him about.

"The paradox what was powering it started yowling" Fiddleford said. "So obviously it ain't a paradox no more."

Ford grimaced. "That does lay to rest whether the cat is alive or dead."

"Sure does," Fiddleford said, sighing. "So I let the cat outside and I'm rebuilding the whole contraption to run on a more robust paradox. I hope you've got better news for me, Stanford."

"We hope so too. I think Dipper might have the solution to our fuel generation problem."

They briefly explained Dipper's unfortunate puppet incident last summer—Fiddleford had to take a break in the middle to grab a cup of coffee, "To steady my nerves,"—its ongoing effects on his sleep, and the new developments of the last few days, culminating in Dipper learning how to project his soul out of his body—

—which, Ford now realized, he probably should have expected Fiddleford to take poorly.

"Sweet sasparilla!" Fiddleford kicked over his chair while jumping onto the nearest table. "You're dead?!"

"What?" Dipper said. "No, I—"

"You're like a ghost possessing a zombie!"

Dipper thought that over. "Whoa..."

But, even though Fiddleford thought the whole affair went against the rightful order of the world, he agreed that it was a sound idea and worth trying. "It's lucky that my tater tot and I hunted out all the ghosts in this place during our spring cleaning," he said, opening a cabinet. He retrieved what looked like a pair of vacuums redesigned to be worn like backpacks with an assortment of random electronics dangling from wires. He held up a set of goggles and headphones hanging off one of the vacuums. "I invented these doohickeys that'll let you see and hear ghosts! They'll let us keep in contact with Dipper while he's out of his body." He set the vacuums on a table near the miniature particle accelerator and said, "First, though—Stanford, I need you to help me rebuild this machine."

"Of course." Ford turned away from the vacuum he'd been inspecting to look at the miniature particle accelerator.

Dipper said, "Wait, there are other ghosts in this mansion?"

"Yep!"

"I hunted one at the Northwests' big party last year," Dipper said. "How many more ghosts are in here?"

"We've caught, oh... thirty or forty so far."

"Seriously? That's amazing." Dipper was already thinking about the amazing Ghost Harassers episode this place could have been. Maybe even a miniseries.

"Aw, it weren't that hard. If you leave the TV on, they like to flock around it to watch. All you've gotta do is hide in the corner until a whole big bunch of 'em are gathered 'round—and then ya get them!"

"Oh," Dipper said. "Huh. I just tricked one into getting trapped in a silver mirror."

"Well, that's right impressive too. I never woulda thunk of that," Fiddleford said. "Me and Tate have been sucking them into cooling pouches in these here vacuums and then sticking the pouches in a chest freezer down in the dungeon! Maybe I oughta line the freezer with silver."

"This place has a dungeon?" Dipper asked.

Before Fiddleford could respond, Ford asked, "Which parts are we replacing?" He was inspecting the miniature particle accelerator.

"All of them!"

Ford gave Fiddleford a surprised look. "All of them?"

"Yep! Every last one!"

"Is the design changing that much?"

"Nope! It's staying exactly the same!"

"Then... why can't we just use the same machine we already have?"

"We will be using the same machine!" Fiddleford smiled mischievously. "Or will we?"

"Ah! I see! The particle accelerator of Theseus," Ford said. "Very clever."

"And kinder on the local stray cats, I reckon."

Dipper offered his assistance, but the work involved too much welding and buzzsawing for him to try untrained, so he was directed to sit a safe distance away with the first aid kit. At least it gave him a chance to read some more. He had to shove aside a couple flashlights and the glue grenade to reach where the slim book had slid to the bottom of his backpack during their walk from the car.

He skimmed over some of the worldbuilding looking for the story before he realized the story was the wordbuilding and looped back. It was a lot bleaker than he expected, even after Mabel's warning. Rigid class system, oppressive government, all kinds of horrifying shape prejudices... Frustrating dream visits to the ignorant line people in the first dimension who didn't believe in the second dimension, and to the self-absorbed King Zero in the point-sized zeroth dimension who thought a whole universe was contained inside him... A just as frustrating visit from a sphere who simply couldn't explain the third dimension in a way the square protagonist could understand, which was even more annoying since the square had just seen how the first dimension couldn't comprehend the second for the same reasons, so why couldn't he accept the possibility of a third dimension he couldn't imagine? Dipper got that it was supposed to be a metaphor to help three-dimensional readers understand that not being able to visualize a fourth dimension didn't mean it was impossible; but still. Come on, man. Don't be stupid.

On the other hand, at least now Dipper had a framework to understand the concept of higher dimensions and probably a leg up on next year's geometry. Would high school geometry cover four-dimensional space?

After a couple of hours of work and a break for lunch, the miniature particle accelerator was rebuilt and ready for another attempt to generate fuel. Fiddleford pulled on one of his ghost vacuums like a backpack, put on the set of connected headphones and goggles, and settled his glasses on over the goggles. "Y'all ready?"

"Ready," Ford said. He was seated at the accelerator's monitors, holding the jug that would contain any NowUSeeitNowUDontium they generated, and wearing the other vacuum—with the goggles over his glasses, and he was a bit worried about how Fiddleford had positioned his.

"Ready," Dipper said, a tad less certainly. What if he couldn't do it today? What if he'd never actually been able to do it last night and the whole thing really had been a dream?

But Fiddleford flipped the accelerator's power on, stepped back, and said, "All right! Do your thing!"

"Okay." Dipper stared straight at the machine, and—eugh—thought about degloving his body from his soul, peeling out of his skin fingers first.

This was only the second time he'd left his body deliberately. He'd observed in the past that the mindscape was strangely gray and still compared to the real world—but he'd never realized just how stark and swift the change was, like all the color and warmth had been abruptly sucked from reality. He shivered.

Ford inhaled sharply. Fiddleford stumbled back against the nearest table and yelped, "Flipping flapjacks!"

"You can both still see me?" Dipper said. "Can you hear me, too?"

"Loud and clear," Ford said.

"Like the voices of the dead." Fiddleford shuddered. "Welp, let's get this over with. I don't like all this ghost business. It ain't natural."

Ford gave him an amused look. "Since when have you ever been concerned about what's 'natural'? Didn't the engineering club vote you 'most likely to build a robot that flies in the face of God'?"

"You hush! There's nothing unnatural about iron, electromagnetism, and flamethrowers."

Dipper studied his body's face, its eyes pointed blankly toward the particle accelerator. "Well, I'm looking at the experiment, but I'm definitely not thinking about it. I think that's half of the paradox?"

"That's right," Fiddleford said. "Now, you just—float yerself on over to the other side of the accelerator, and think about it without looking at it."

"Right." Dipper positioned himself directly across the accelerator from his body, shut his eyes, and tried to think experimental thoughts. He didn't know much about Dontium besides what Ford had written about it in Journal 3—that it was inert when you were looking at it and radioactive when you weren't—so, if the miniature particle accelerator generated any, would he get blasted with radiation? Or was his body staring at the accelerator enough to keep it inert? But no—it was supposed to fill up the jug Ford was holding, right? Ford was observing it. Dipper tried to imagine what must be happening inside the accelerator; how did it work, would particles spontaneously generate in the tubes? Maybe they circled around until they fell into the hose to the jug...

He heard Ford gasp. "Fiddleford, look at this— Don't listen to me Dipper, just keep—keep thinking whatever you were thinking!"

"Is it working?"

"It was! Don't let us distract you."

Dipper tried to ignore the sound of Fiddleford running over to Ford, and started humming to drown out their hushed conversation. That was good, right? It meant the experiment was working. Keep thinking about that—experiment. Experiment. Expeeeriment. ... He wondered if trying to do the experiment by putting himself and Tyrone on either side of the accelerator would have worked, or if it had to be Dipper's soul and his body—

"Hot diggety!" Fiddleford shouted. "We've reached critical mass!"

"What does that mean, is it bad?" Dipper opened one eye a crack, trying to squint enough that he couldn't see the particle accelerator. "Is it gonna explode?"

Ford explained, "It means we've generated enough Dontium that it can sustain its own existence. Now, even if you get distracted, what we've already generated will remain. It can only go up from here."

"Wow," Dipper said. "That only took, what, a couple of minutes?"

"Less than that! During our last attempt, we tried for hours without reaching critical mass," Ford said. "Your idea was right on the money. Excellent work, Dipper."

Dipper grinned. After all that anxiety, it was almost a letdown how easy it was, but the coolness factor made up for it. He could just imagine the conversations the first week of high school: What did I do over summer break? Oh, nothing much. Just synthesized a new element. To fuel a weapon custom-designed to kill an immortal chaos god. And did I mention I was a ghost at the time? It didn't quite top last summer's adventures, but...

Then something went wrong.

There was a noise halfway between the electric buzz of a tesla coil and the rip of Velcro being torn apart. A stench like burning hair filled the air. A line of shifting colorful light began worming its way out of the center of the particle accelerator and up into the air.

"Oh no. Ohhh no!" Fiddleford grabbed his head. "The micro-rips! The threadbare fabric of reality! Our experiment put too much of a strain on it! We tore straight through!" One foot bounced agitatedly, "Ohhh, I knew I shoulda run some calculations before substituting in Dipper for you and Stanley."

Dipper gasped as the line of light began to agonizingly stretch open wider. Reality began seeping over its edges and dripping through into the kaleidoscopic miasma beyond. It developed a second horizontal rip across its middle as reality stretched beyond endurance in multiple directions. "What—is that?" He was afraid he knew.

"A dimensional rift," Fiddleford said.

"The Nightmare Realm," said Ford.

The last frayed thread holding reality together snapped apart, and the rift tore open wide, fully exposing the Earth to the roaring roiling chaos beyond.

They screamed.

"Hello?" A giant set of dentures with stubby arms and legs leaned through the rift. "Oh hey! Aren't you the guys that killed Bill?"

They screamed again.

"Is screaming how humans say hi?" the monster asked. "I'm Teeth. Aaah!" He turned toward Ford. "Hey! Fingers! Lookin' less electrocuted than the last time I saw you—"

Ford socked Teeth in the incisor, knocking him back through the rift. "Back, you! You and your 'friends' are not welcome in this dimension!"

"Ow. What the heck, man."

Fiddleford shouted, "Don't stop observing the Dontium!" He bounded across the room on all four to scoop up the milk jug and stare at it.

Ford nearly toppled through the rift, and had to grab onto the miniature particle accelerator as the heaviest nearby object to anchor himself. The rift sucked on reality like a vacuum, and the longer it was open the more powerful it grew.

Over the roar of the rift, Dipper yelled "What do we do?!"

"We have to seal it! Before it sucks all of Gravity Falls into the Nightmare Realm!"

"How?!"

Last summer, the instant Bill had no longer been around to maintain the dimensional rift, it had also sucked reality into it, starting with everything that properly belonged in the Nightmare Realm; but then it had also quickly sealed itself back shut. On the other hand, this rift was just opening wider and wider. Maybe it wasn't like the rift Bill had used to enter Gravity Falls, then? Maybe it was structured more like the wormholes that had been left behind after Weirdmageddon—

"I've got it!" Ford picked up Dipper's body—trying not to shudder at how lifeless it felt—and unzipped his backpack. "Is the alien adhesive grenade still in here?"

"It should be! Let me see." Dipper floated over to peer into his backpack.

The rift was already strong enough to drag at Ford's clothing. The lightest objects in the room lifted into the air and were sucked through. Papers. Pencils. Coffee mugs. Dipper's soul.

He screamed. "GRUNKLE FORD!"

"Dipper!" Ford grabbed for Dipper's ankle, but his hand passed right through. Ford's blood ran cold as Dipper tumbled head over heels into the Nightmare Realm.

"Look at that," Teeth said, watching Dipper soar by. "Dinner delivery."

There was no difference between the mindscape and reality in the Nightmare Realm, if Ford followed Dipper through he'd be able to get a grip on Dipper there. But how would he carry Dipper back to Earth without him melting through Ford's grasp the moment they were through the rift? Didn't matter, grab Dipper first, then figure it out—

Fiddleford shoved the jug of Dontium in Ford's hands as he ran past. "Watch over this!"

"What—!"

Fiddleford jumped into the Nightmare Realm, the end of a long extension cord tied around his waist. He stretched out the hose of his ghost vacuum and flipped a switch, and with a yelp Dipper's soul was sucked inside. Ford gasped in relief.

Trying to keep as much of his attention on the potentially-radioactive jug as possible, Ford reeled Fiddleford back in, shoved the jug in his hands, and dug into Dipper's backpack again until he found the alien adhesive grenade. He pulled the pin and chucked it through the rift. "Duck!"

He shielded Dipper's body and Fiddleford shielded the Dontium jug as the grenade exploded. Even so, the force of it blew aside everything within ten feet of the rift and sent both of them sprawling. When Ford glanced back over his shoulder, the adhesive had gummed up the opening of the rift like a popped glowing magenta bubblegum bubble; and as he watched, it sucked the opening shut. In a few seconds the air was still and quiet, and the only sign the rift had ever existed was an immense, jagged vertical line in the air around which the light refracted wrong.

Fiddleford gingerly got back to his knees, then pulled off his glasses and pushed up his goggles. One of the lenses had been crushed, and the glasses' frame was bent beyond repair.

Ford heaved a long, heavy sigh. "A bit too familiar, wasn't it?"

Fiddleford blinked at him. "Wasn't what?"

"The—reeling you in from the Nightmare Realm?" Ford said. At Fiddleford's blank look, Ford said, "The portal test?"

"Oh." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I... still don't remember it too clearly."

"Ah. Yes. Of course." Ford's stomach churned with guilt as he looked away from Fiddleford. Over thirty years late was too late to apologize, wasn't it? (Over the past year he'd wondered, again and again; and again and again he'd decided that it was.) "Thank you for saving—" He gasped, "Dipper!"

"Oh, right!" Fiddleford took off his vacuum, dropped it on the floor, and unzipped its bag. The ghosts of a Northwest in a buckskin coat and a confused-looking hippie escaped into the air. "Hey," Fiddleford barked. "You get back here!" He raised the vacuum's hose and flipped its switch. He caught the hippie, but as soon as she was sucked in she flew out the unzipped bag and off to freedom again. Fiddleford lowered the hose and shook a fist at the retreating spirits. "I'll get you ectoplasmic varmints, just you wait!"

Ford knelt on the floor and held the bag open wider. Dipper floated out, arms crossed tight and shivering. "So... so cold... and dark... and really, really dusty."

"Let's get you back where you belong."

Ford held up Dipper's body as he lay back down in it. He could see the moment color flooded back into Dipper's cheeks and his eyes focused again. Dipper groaned.

Ford said, "You're never doing that again."

"I am never doing that again," Dipper said.

"We can't do that again," Fiddleford said. "The fabric of reality in this town is too unstable to handle another paradoxical physics experiment that powerful! We'd rip open another rift to the Nightmare Realm!"

"And we just tossed away all of our remaining alien adhesive," Ford sighed. It left Gravity Falls vulnerable if any more rips formed. Sometime soon he'd have to go back to the alien crash site and see if there was any more adhesive he could scrounge up; but even if he did, they couldn't risk wasting more of it like this.

"But did we get what we needed?" Dipper asked.

Fiddleford held up the milk jug of Dontium and shook it. It had a strange shifting color, wavering between cyan and orange depending on the lighting. "Looks like we got about three-fourths of a gallon," Fiddleford said.

"It's only enough to fully power one shot," Ford said. "But... one shot is all it'll take to destroy Bill." His stomach flipped nervously as he said it. He'd been anxious every other time he'd prepared to kill Bill, but that had always been because he'd been preparing to battle for the fate of the universe with a godlike monster who could easily kill him or worse. For the first time, he was preparing to execute a defenseless prisoner, and he didn't know whether it would make the universe any safer.

For half the summer he'd hoped Bill was harmless. Now he wished he had proof that Bill wasn't, so that he could lay his conscience to rest.

Dipper looked as uncomfortable as Ford felt; but when he caught Ford's gaze, he hardened his expression and nodded. Ford nodded back.

"WOOHOO!" Fiddleford leaped his full height straight up, making Ford and Dipper start. "We done it! YAHOO!" He waved his hat around ecstatically, doing a little jig in place. "YIPPEE! HIP HIP HURRrr—hey, how come you fellers ain't celebrating?"

Ford didn't know how to explain without making Fiddleford worry he was at risk of falling under Bill's spell again. "We'll celebrate when he's dead."

####

"Who was at the door?" 8 Ball shouted. When he didn't get a response, he paused his game. "Teeth?"

Teeth waddled into the game room. His face was completely plastered shut with some kind of glowing purple glue.

Pyronica cracked up and Paci-Fire chuckled darkly. 8 Ball sighed, "What'd you get into, you idiot?"

Teeth waved his hands emphatically.

"All right, okay." 8 Ball stood and stretched. "Does anyone have the number of that lamp guy Bill used to hook up with?"

Half an hour later, having lured over Lava Lamp Guy with the false promise of ping pong pool and illicit liquids, they cornered him in a bathroom, with Zanthar sitting in the tub restraining him while Paci-Fire struggled to hold his face still.

"Please!" Lava Lamp Guy screamed. "Let me go! I'll do anything you want! My neurologist said I can't take much more of this!"

"Cease your complaints," Paci-Fire said, as 8 Ball took off Lava Lamp Guy's bowler. "You shall not dissuade us. We do this because we have no choice in the matter."

"Why not?!"

"Because none of us feel like making the trip to a dimension with a drugstore."

8 Ball stuck a soup ladle into the open top of Lava Lamp Guy's head and fished around until he got a scoop of the red goo floating around in the thinner orange liquid. Lava Lamp Guy howled in agony. Zanthar heaved a weary sigh.

8 Ball carried the ladle over to where Teeth was sitting on the toilet lid kicking his feet. "Here you go, bud."

Teeth clapped his hands, grabbed an oversized toothbrush, and held it out for 8 Ball to pour the goop on. He scrubbed his teeth until the goop dissolved the adhesive. "Whew!" He stretched his jaw a few times, then jumped to his feet. "Thanks! I was worried I was gonna miss karaoke night." He looked in the sink mirror to scrub off the remaining scraps of adhesive.

8 Ball put Lava Lamp Guy's hat back on. Lava Lamp Guy groaned, "I think I forgot my third husband."

"You've only been married twice," Hectorgon lied.

"Oh." Confused, Lava Lamp Guy said, "Alright."

Teeth muttered, "Blech, divorce memories." He grabbed a bottle of mouthwash to clear out the taste.

"So what happened?" Kryptos asked. He was hovering in the doorway beside Pyronica.

"I'unno. I think the Dimension 46ers were messing around with their portal or something? They opened up a portal here."

"What? Uh-uh," Pyronica said. "It had to be some other dimension. We just invaded them, why would they open the portal again?"

"No no, that sounds like humans to me," Kryptos said. "If one of them pushes a button and immediately dies, the guy standing next to him will go, 'I wonder if it does that every time.' I've seen them do it."

"It was definitely them, I saw that local contractor Bill recruited for the portal who went nuts. Fingers or whoever."

8 Ball groaned. "You mean the guy that invaded the Quadrangle and tried to kill everybody?"

"Yeah. That guy. He told me I wasn't welcome on Earth and chucked a glue bomb in my face. I was like, well alright, buddy, I'm not the one who opened up a portal in your house, you could have just stayed home instead of ruining my day," Teeth said. "I didn't really say that to him. I thought it."

"So now the humans are invading us." Pyronica threw her hands in the air. "Great! This is just terrific! Bill teaches them how to make their own portals, they follow us home, and now we're about to have a pest problem that knows how to use tools! How long is it until this whole place is crawling with humans?! I'm going househunting, how many rooms should I look for? 8 Ball?"

"I'm in."

"Teeth?"

Teeth sighed, but said, "Yeah. The neighborhood's going downhill. Especially if we're gonna have a pest problem."

"Big Z?"

Zanthar gave a thumbs up.

Pyronica looked at Paci-Fire. He averted his gaze. Pyronica said, "Paci?"

Sullenly, he said, "We should ask Keyhole's opinion as well."

She laughed in disbelief. Nobody cared about Keyhole's opinion, he went with whatever everyone else went with. Appealing to Keyhole was just a delaying tactic. "Fine, sure. We'll get Keyhole's opinion."

"I'm not going," Hectorgon said, crossing his arms.

Relieved, Kryptos said, "Yeah. Me neither."

"You don't have to," Pyronica snapped. "You two and Morph can wait for Bill to come back from the dead as long as you want. But the rest of us are leaving."

Kryptos tilted toward the hall, gesturing for Hectorgon to follow him away from the others. "How long do you think we can hold this place without the outerplanars?" The Quadrangle was all that remained of Bill's turf. Without Bill's energy boosting them, none of the shapes were particularly powerful. They'd always depended upon the other Henchmaniacs to guard Bill's stronghold, the heavy-hitters like Zanthar and Pyronica. Even Bill preferred to let them fight his battles when he could; Bill's energy was much vaster, but less renewable.

Hectorgon grimaced uncertainly. "We've gotta think of something fast."

####

Dipper stared at the jug in his lap, ensuring it didn't turn radioactive before they got home. Bill practically seemed to have a radar for Ford—and on top of that, could see through walls—but as far as he cared Dipper may as well have not even existed; so they'd decided that Ford would go in the main door to ensure Bill's attention was turned away while Dipper went through the gift shop and took the elevator down to Ford's study. Ford had told Dipper where to find a lead locker that would keep the Dontium contained until Ford could use it to refuel the Quantum Destabilizer; all he had to do was put it in and stare through the crack until he'd slammed the door shut.

And once they'd decided on that, the drive home had fallen deathly silent.

As the Mystery Shack appeared through the trees, Dipper asked, "We're doing the right thing, right?" His voice was quiet. "I hate him, but—we owe him our lives. And there's that prophecy..."

"Lives can't be owed," Ford said. "Yesterday he may have saved us, but tomorrow he would still destroy our world in a heartbeat. We can be grateful to be alive—but we can't let that stop us."

"So, we're doing the right thing?"

Ford was silent for much longer than Dipper would have liked. "I hope so."

####

(We're moving toward some important stuff!! Hope y'all enjoyed and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this week's chapter!)

#dipper pines #stanford pines #grunkle ford #fiddleford mcgucket #henchmaniacs #(for the art & chapter)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #(who doesn't make an appearance in this chapter but the whole fic's about him and nobody can shut up about him so he's getting tagged)#(is this the first chapter bill hasn't appeared in?? might be)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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