#look at him!! look at his hair and his makeup!! I’m gonna sob my eyes out…I love him

[testure-1988]

Shots of Nivek Ogre from Skinny Puppy’s early days

[lionneee]

What a marriage

English is not my first language, please be kind

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Part 1 -> Part 2

•Warnings: fake marriage, arranged marriage, smut, piv, kissing, cheating, degradation.•

Modern!Husband!Aemond x Wife!Reader

She didn’t know if she should have been happy about how her marriage with him has changed.

She always woke up sore, tired, and had trouble walking.

Aemond was still a ghost during the day.

Not at night.

She screamed as she leaned forward on the bed, making him slip out.

She was panting and sobbing, her face pressed against the mattress, her knees bent at the end of the bed. He was standing behind her, panting as well.

He growled and grabbed her hips, pushing her back, but she whined and got up on all four and tried to crawl away.

“Get back here.” He snarled, grabbing her ankle and pulling her right back. She quickly got back on her knees, but before she could try to move again, he grabbed her by the back of her neck and pressed her face back on the mattress.

You whined loudly as he pushed right back into you, his cock filling you up again, the pleasure was mixed with pain and overstimulation.

“I’m gonna keep you here until your cunt will be able to make me come.” He panted as he resumed his thrusts, hard and deep, picking up the pace in short time.

You screamed against the mattress, the sound muffled by it, as you clenched your hands on the covers.

“Fucking come!” You moaned as you felt another orgasm threatening to wash over you. You didn’t know if you were going to be able to take it, again.

“If you'd shut up, maybe I will.” He slapped your ass as he scolded you, grabbing your hips again and starting to thrust harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping loud in your bedroom.

You scrambled on the mattress again as your hands clenched harder around the blankets.

You tried to clench around him, trying to make him come before you could reach another orgasm, and when you felt him moan you finally knew he was really close.

You tried to clench again, trying to hold back your orgasm, but it was hard with the way he was merciless pounding into you like you were a fuckdoll.

He moaned again and let go of one of your hips.

“You’re gonna come first.” He grunted, you didn’t need to turn around, you knew he was smirking. You groaned loudly and your back arched as his fingers brushed against your clit, and that was all you needed to come again.

Your walls clenched hard around him as your fluids covered his cock, again, getting even more wetter.

He thrusted a few more times, then, he pushed all the way in and stayed there as he came too with a low moan.

You let out a sound of relief as he pulled out, and collapsed on your bed as he walked out of your room to get on his own.

So the last thing she expected as she prepared lunch, was for him to come out in the office to join her in the kitchen.

“I have an event tonight.” He said as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he looked at her. “And you’re coming with me.”

She turned and looked at him, raising one of her eyebrows.

“Dress, shoes, hair and makeup.” She turned to look at him. “None of those are prepared for an event.”

Aemond rolled his eye and scoffed.

“Dress and shoes are in your room, I already bought them. Makeup and hair whatever, you’ll look good anyway. Be ready at six.” He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked closer, inspecting the pans on the stove.

“Bring me a plate when you’re done. I’m in my office.” Said that, he walked away.

She gritted her teeth in annoyance.

It might have sounded like a compliment, but to her, it only felt like another confirmation that he didn’t care about her.

She stared at the spot where Aemond had stood, her hand gripping the wooden spoon a little too tightly. 

He didn't even ask if she wanted to go.

Her frustration simmered as she returned to stirring the sauce. She hated the way he treated her, as though she was just another accessory in his life. 

She glanced toward her bedroom, the thought of the dress he'd already picked out for her prickling at her pride. 

Not even the decency to let me choose that. 

With a sigh, she finished preparing lunch and plated his portion, setting it on a tray. She stared at the plate for a moment, her irritation flaring once more, before taking a deep breath. Confronting him wasn’t going to do anything but start another argument. She wasn’t in the mood to battle with him, not today.

Carrying the tray to his office, she knocked gently before entering. Aemond sat behind his desk, his eye glued to his computer screen as he typed rapidly. He barely glanced up when she set the plate in front of him.

"Thanks." He muttered, his tone neutral, devoid of any real appreciation.

She stopped but didn’t turn around, after a moment she resumed walking out and closed the door behind her with a little more force than necessary.

Back in her room, she found the dress laid out on her bed. It was stunning, she had to admit that much. Midnight blue silk, with a sleek silhouette that promised to hug her body in all the right places. The shoes, a pair of delicate, strappy heels, matched perfectly. It was clear Aemond had spared no expense, but that only made her feel more like a decorative piece for him to show off.

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dress. A part of her wanted to rebel, to refuse to go, to show him that he couldn’t just control her like this. 

With a sigh, she stood up and headed to the bathroom. She’d go to the event. She’d wear the dress and the shoes he’d picked, and she’d play the role he expected her to. But that didn’t mean she had to enjoy it.

She walked down the stairs, ready, and she found Aemond dressed in a suit, his head bent down as he looked at his phone. 

She sighed and quickly reached him.

“I’m ready.” She said dispassionately. “Let’s go.” Aemond raised his head to scan her body, and hummed with a single nod.

She clenched her jaw at his disinterest, and followed him as he opened the door, walking straight to his car.

They drove in silence, the tension thick between them. Aemond kept his eyes on the road, one hand casually resting on the steering wheel, the other tapping idly against the gear shift. She stared out the window, watching the city blur past, the weight of her resentment pressing heavily on her chest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that, for him, she was just another checkbox on his list for the evening, a trophy to flaunt at his side.

The event was at a luxurious venue downtown, a large gala hall lined with sleek black cars and finely dressed people. Aemond pulled into the valet station, and the car stopped. Without a word, he got out, tossing the keys to the valet before making his way around to open her door. His hand extended toward her as she stepped out of the car, his touch cold and formal.

“Stay close." He murmured as they entered the hall. She nodded, though it wasn’t as if she had much of a choice. 

Inside, the room was filled with the elite, men in tailored suits and women in shimmering gowns, mingling beneath chandeliers that sparkled like stars. The air buzzed with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses.

As they moved through the crowd, Aemond’s grip on her arm tightened slightly, a signal to stay at his side. He greeted people with ease, his voice smooth, his expression composed. She remained silent, smiling politely as introductions were made, her mind drifting in and out of the conversations around her.

Time passed slowly, she had to pull out one fake smile after the other, trying to make small talk with the wifes as Aemond spoke with the husbands. The way he spoke to others with charm and ease was a sharp contrast to the way he treated her. Here, in this world of polished surfaces and false smiles, he was the perfect gentleman. 

As they moved toward a quiet corner, Aemond turned to her, his eye scanning the room. “You’re doing fine." He said, as though it were a performance she had to perfect. There was no warmth, no genuine praise, just the acknowledgment that she was fulfilling her role.

She bit her tongue, swallowing the retort that threatened to spill from her lips. Instead, she took a slow breath and looked away,grabbing another glass of champagne.

She was surprised when she saw Aemond walk away from her, this time without dragging her with him. 

She watched as approached a woman, a beautiful woman. He took her hand and kissed it, he talked closely to her, too close.

Did he forget he is married?!

She clenched her jaw tightly as she shot the rest of the champagne in the glass.

As the night dragged on, the crowd thickened, and Aemond became more engrossed in his conversations. She found herself drifting to the edges of the room, standing by the bar, always with a glass of champagne in hand as she kept looking at Aemond and that woman. The laughter and chatter around her felt distant, like a world she didn’t belong to.

And she hated it.

He didn’t even introduce her to the woman. All the husbands had to see his precious, younger, beautiful wife, but not her.

The warmth of the champagne fizzed in her chest, but it couldn’t dispel the cold knot of jealousy twisting in her stomach. She forced herself to look away, taking a deep breath to calm the rising tide of emotions. Aemond’s laughter echoed across the room, too bright, too carefree. She felt like a stranger in her own life, watching him charm this woman who was clearly enamored by him.

Another glass of champagne appeared before her, and she took it without thinking. It was easier to drown her frustration in alcohol than to confront the feelings swirling within her. As the bubbly liquid slid down her throat, she scanned the room for anything to distract herself. The crowd was a blur of elegance and sophistication, all laughing and mingling as if the world outside didn’t exist.

But here she was, standing alone, feeling like a ghost haunting her own marriage.

Without thinking, she moved closer, wanting to hear what they were saying. Aemond leaned in closer to the woman, his voice low and intimate. “You should join us for dinner next week. I’m sure my wife wouldn’t mind.” He said. 

The words hit her like a slap. A wife who was just a footnote in his conversation, a mere afterthought. The woman laughed, a light, airy sound that felt like daggers to her heart. She couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Excuse me.” she interjected, her voice sharper than she intended.

Both Aemond and the woman turned to her. The playful atmosphere of their conversation evaporated instantly, replaced by a taut silence.

“Someone wants to talk to you.” She said, her voice steady, though her insides churned. She met Aemond’s gaze, and she saw a flicker of hate on his face.

“I just have to finish with Floris.” He replied, an edge creeping into his tone.

Floris.

“They seemed impatient.” She lied, not wanting to admit how deeply his interaction with the woman had affected her.

Aemond’s expression shifted, a mix of annoyance and anger. “Fine.” He narrowed his eye, as if he perfectly knew that she was lying.

Floris cleared her throat, taking a step back as the tension between them grew palpable. 

“Talk to you later, Floris.” He nodded at her and grabbed his wife’s arm, dragging her along with him as she gave Floris a spiteful smile from behind her shoulder.

He pulled her outside, in a quiet spot in the garden, turning her forcely to look at him.

“What the hell was that about?” Aemond’s voice cut through her, his tone filled with anger. 

“What was about what?” She replied, feigning to not know what he was talking about crossing her arms defensively. “Can’t I have my husband all for myself? This is one of the rare moments you talk to me, after all.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke the last phrase. Aemond gritted in teeth, the struggle to contain his anger was clear in his face.

“Is it your empty cunt that is talking?” He hissed as he took a step closer. “Or just some basic, pathetic jealousy?” Aemond smirked cruelly as he looked down at her. “I wasn’t flirting with her,” He scoffed, his voice low but firm. “She’s just a colleague. It was nothing.”He sighed as he looked down at her with a hard glare. “This is how it works. I have to network, to meet people in this world, and sometimes it looks more personal than it is.”

“Yeah, it was obvious how personal you wanted it to be.” She clenched her jaw as she narrowed her eyes.

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled. “You were the one who kissed another guy right in front of me just a few weeks ago.” He hissed as he took a step closer, towering over her. “So just be a good wife, and smile.” He passed his hands through his hair. “Don’t make me angry.”

She clenched her jaw tighter. She didn’t want to be a stupid doll by his side. She was tired of all this, tired of faking so much. She was tired of pretending she wasn’t stuck in this marriage.

“No.” She hissed. “I’m going home.” She turned her heels and started striding away, but she didn’t manage to get far, Aemond grabbed her arm again and started dragging her to a nearby building, a hotel, probably the owners of the venue where the event kept going.

He walked in with her and stopped in front of the receptionist.

“One room, king bed, one night.” He said as he pulled out his wallet.The receptionist glanced between them with a smile, then she quickly gave the number of the room and the key.

Without much more words, Aemond strode towards the elevator, grabbing her hand tightly.

She stood awkwardly beside him as he pushed the button for the floor, and watched the display with the numbers changing, his hands in his pocket.

He almost seemed calm, peaceful.

She was in trouble.

As soon as the doors opened, Aemond shoved her outside the elevator, then in the hotel room as soon as he opened.

She stumbled inside, glaring back at him as she stepped back, putting some distance between them.

“No?” He snarled. “No?” He quickly stepped closer, grabbing a handful of her hair,. “Who the fuck do you think you are, mh?” He tugged downward by her hair, forcing her to bend her knees. “Get, On your knees.” He growled as she pushed her down completely, until she was forced to kneel.

He looked down at her, his gaze dark and angry.

“My sweet, little wife wants my attention?” He mocked her. “Because she is jealous of a colleague?” He almost laughed. He took off his belt, and unbuttoned his pants.

As she looked down, she could see that he was already getting hard.

“You have my attention now.” He said, an amused, sadistic grin on his face. “And I am going to give it all to you, wife.” He pulled down his pants and boxers just enough to let his cock spring free from its confines, the tip only inches from her face.

It was the first time she got to see it clearly. She had stolen glances from time to time when he walked naked in her room, but because of the darkness or because he didn’t give her time to, she never really saw how beautiful and big it was.

“Come on, suck it.” He wrapped his hand around his thick, long cock and pushed the head against her mouth.

Oh, hell no.

She glared up at him, keeping her lips pressed together, and he growled at her defiance. He tilted her head back and bent down.

“I’ll force it down your throat.” He threatened.

“How, if you can’t even get it in my mouth?” She smirked. Aemond snarled and pulled her back uo.

“You’re useless. Can’t even suck a cock properly? Why am I even keeping you?”

“Then divorce me, so I won't have to see your stupid, hateful face anymore.” She hissed as she pushed him back with a newfound force, driven by her anger. He landed back on the bed, and he quickly rose on his elbows, his eye full of hate for her.

“Oh, you’d like that, uh?”

“Yes.” She raised her dress and sat on top of him, pushing him back on the bed.

She never rode him. She was never on top.

Every time he came in her room, he just pushed her on her stomach and fucked her from behind, controlling everything.

Not this time.

She pushed her panties to the side, and grabbed his cock, squeezing it in her hand, making him twitch beneath her as he inhaled sharply.

“Fuck, careful.” He grunted, raising her dress from him, so he could get a clear view of her cunt sinking on him, enveloping around his cock, squeezing it and wetting it.

She bit back a moan as she slowly sank down, trying to take him all. 

It was strange to be in a different position, on top, controlling.

She finally sat down on him with a long sight. Aemod’s hand flew immediately to her hips, but she slapped them away and pressed her hands down on his chest with force.

“I’m on top.” She groaned as she slowly started to move up and down, briefly, making his cock barely slip out of her.

Aemond started to thrust his hips up, trying to control the pace, but she sat down, making his efforts futile.

Amend growled and slapped her ass as he sat up.

“You think that just because you’re on top you’re in control?” He growled as he squeezed her cheeks in his hand. He laid back down, bringing her with him, his other hand flying to her ass, grabbing a handful of the skin. “No, wife. No.” He started to thrust up his hips quickly, his feet raising on the bed to help him thrust harder, faster.

She let out a moan, unable to hold it, as her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Aemond moved his hand from her cheeks to the back of her head, grabbing a handful of her hair, pulling her head back, forcing her to arch her back so her tits kept jumping up and down in front of his face, threatening at every movement to spill out of the cleavage.

He grunted and let go of her ass to pull down the cleavage and let free her tits, eagerly taking one in his mouth, suckign hard on her nipples.

She managed to look down, and seeing him sucking it hard, with neediness on her boob made another string of wetness coat Aemond’s cock.

“A fucking baby-” She mocked him as she panted, a smirk playing on her lips. 

Of course Aemond grew furious at the mock. He pulled away only to slap her breasts.

“Such a hypocrite. Like you didn’t just get even more wet. Slut.” He laughed as he thrusted harder into her, bullying her sweet spot, that his cock seemed to aim on itself every time it entered her.

She hated it, how easily it was for him to pleasure her.

“Like you don’t get hard on being hated.” She spit back, string to move her hips as well, the pace increasing as she squeezed him inside her, trying to bring him close to the orgasm.

“God, I wish I had never agreed on marrying you –” She groaned as she felt another pull at her hair, her back arching even more.

“Considering how much time you put on your hair, I thought you would have been way more careful on the other’s.” She mocked him. He suddenly sat up and grabbed her ass tightly.

“So talkative, wife.” He smirked. “Are you trying to turn me on to show me that you’d be better than Floris?” He grinned, amused by her attitude. 

She clenched her jaw as she glared daggers at him.

“I don’t need to prove myself. I am better than her.” She clenched her jaw as she looked at him.

Aemond hummed, looking at her in silence for a moment, unmoving.

“Surely her cunt is not as tight as yours.” She didn’t even have the time to register his words or get angry because he stood up, taking her in his arms, and he started to thrust his hips again, slower, but with much more intensity and hardness.

“Fuck –” She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck immediately, to secure herself from falling. Aemond chuckled.

“Scared to fall, wife?” He clenched his jaw as he sped up the pace, making her jump on his cock.

“Fuck you. I’d bring you down with me.” She hissed, her nails digging in the back of his shoulders.

“I’d come.” He grunted as his head leaned back, a moan escaping his mouth.

She looked at him with a hint of surprise.

Surely he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t. He hated her.

Her thoughts got quickly washed away by a wave of pleasure. She didn’t even realize she was so much on the edge.

She looked at him as he straightened his head, his singe eye meeting hers, filled with affection.

She tightened her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, moaning loudly as she hit the edge, the pleasure washed over her, shaking her from the insides.

“God – Yes –” He moaned as her walls sucked him in, squeezed him, wetted him even more, turning the sound of his last thrusts squelched, louder.

He came hard, emptying his balls deep inside her with a low grunt. He stepped back, until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, then he let himself fall back, keeping her close to his chest.

They landed on the mattress with a tud. 

‘I’d come’, his eye full with affection.

She sat up on him and looked down at his face, placing her hand on his cheek to turn his gaze to her.

It happened for a brief moment, but she saw it, right before his gaze hardened as his usual stoic face.

“I hate you.” She said between pants looking down at him, watching for a reaction in his face, a confirmation that he felt the same.

“I hate you too.” He turned his head to the side, diverting his gaze, looking somewhere ahead of him.

She nodded to herself, then she moved back down on his chest, resting her head on it.

His heart beated so fast and loudly.

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy @agoldenwoe

[with-my-calamitous-love]

DON’T BRING ME TO TEARS WHEN I JUST DID MY MAKEUP SO NICE !

chuuya nakahara x f! reader

after a long and draining argument, chuuya makes it up to you in between your thighs.

smut! you are responsible for what you read 🪽

inspired by please please please

it was no ones fault, really.

it was one of those arguments that are really an amalgamation of many different things. that unwashed plate, his late nights and your early mornings, the way he brushes his teeth so god damn loud when you’re trying to read. it happens to every couple- not everything is sunshine, and you have to learn to love each other despite the things that may drive you crazy.

this should have been one of those nights. but it wasn’t.

you finally give out, surrendering your yells as the tears choke down your cheeks. he’s rescheduled this anniversary dinner about 6 times now, all due to his lucrative line of work. you were a okay at first, despite the nerve he had to make you call the restaurant almost all those times to cancel and reschedule.

“i feel like i don’t matter to you, chuuya.” you sigh in frustration, wiping away a tear. his eyebrows crease in shared annoyances, mostly towards himself for letting it get to this point. he’s tired, overworked by that jackass mori, and just wants to come home to you and feel your love. but he’s broken his promises, and knows he’s wronged you- despite how cocky he may be.

“i know, i know, i know, doll.” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. he hates seeing you cry, and hates knowing he’s the reason why. he hates that the dress you just bought is now wrinkled due to waiting around in the apartment for him, and that your perfect eyeliner and mascara are smudged because of your arguing.

he isn’t even sure why he argued back. he knows he’s a prick that hates being wrong, but he’s also a prick thats head over heels in love with you. he shouldn’t have pushed you to the side, especially on such an important day. his explanations remained the same, but his promises remained broken.

you eventually sigh in defeat, giving up and locking yourself in the bedroom. chuuya resigns to the couch, opening up a bottle of cabernet and filling his glass full. he tosses his hat and his coat aside, loosely undoes his bolo tie and unbuttons his shirts. if you weren’t sobbing over his asshole-like behaviour, you’d get to see his unreasonably toned abs peaking out from his shirt. messy orange hair hangs low from his shoulders, tired and missing you.

a few hours go by. chuuya’s had his fair share of alcohol, but he’s not intoxicated enough to miss the subtle click of the bedroom door unlocking.

he hesitantly walks over to the door, creaking it open to see you standing there. his eyes shamelessly roam your body, seeing how you’ve removed the dress and stripped down to just your panties.

“i was just gonna go to sleep.” you sigh. its not like he hasn’t seen every inch of you, anyway.

“wait.” he says, gently taking your hand and looking into your eyes. (impressive, considering you’re literally naked in front of him.)

you don’t say anything, but your fingers do interlock with his. it gives chuuya the green light to speak.

“…i’m sorry, doll. i shouldn’t have kept rescheduling and accepting you not to care. you do matter. it meant just as much to me as it did to you.” say what you will about chuuya, but he is a stand up guy. he’ll own up to it, especially if he knows its important to you.

you sigh, your lips curling into a small smile. its hard, damn near impossible to stay mad at him. “please don’t make me call the restaurant again, babe.”

chuuya chuckles, and you can see the remnants of the wine on his lips. he knows you’re only half joking, but he kisses your forehead in reassurance. “no, i have something different in mind.”

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

chuuya eats pussy like he’s starved.

he drags you to the end of the bed, getting on his knees and places kisses on your innermost corners until your sobbing, begging for him to kiss you. he’ll use his thumbs to spread you open, just admiring the way he gets your fluids dripping down. he’ll spit on your pussy, seeing how it runs down your already gushing core before he finally goes in.

slowly, he’ll sink down between your trembling thighs, his tongue darting out to take that first tantalizing lick. you arch your back at just that light contact, knowing you’ll be in for a long night. his hands grab your hips, blessedly holding you in place while he lavishes your pussy.

“your pussy is so pretty, baby.” he moans against you, closing his eyes and loving how warm and soft you are. he savours this taste likes its the last he’ll ever have. as intimate as the moment is, you both know he’ll fuck his cock into you filthy and fast later- better to enjoy the soft stuff now.

“je pourrais rester ici pendant des heures.” he groans with you, the vibrations sending waves of warm pleasure through your body. it starts from your teary eyes, than to your sensitive breasts, down to your stomach and the finally reaching chuuya in between your thighs. every now and then his eyes will open, looking up to see your flushed pink face, but he doesn’t dare remove his mouth. not until your soaking wet for him.

“chuuya! oh, fuck, please!” you whine, grabbing fistfuls of silky orange hair. he chuckles almost cruely, knowing that he’s not stopping any time soon. he does this just as much for him as he does for you, if not more. he loves the way you moan his name, how your pussy tastes. it makes his cock fill out knowing that he’s the only guy that gets to taste it.

“please what doll? want me to stop?” he asks, already knowing what the answer is. he teases you by slowing down his tongue, only touching your pulsing heat with just the tip of it. you almost cry, begging him to keep going.

“bonne fille, tu as tellement bon goût.” he praises you, wrapping his wine-stained lips around your clit and sucking in a way that gets you sobbing from the pleasure. you want to wrap your thighs around his head, pushing him deeper, but he keeps your legs nice and spread for him. “just like that, doll. god, you’re so pretty like this. can’t wait to fuck you so good later.”

you can feel yourself unraveling, and chuuya knows it. his tongue, lips and teeth move in a messy pattern, making your toes curl deliciously. you’re so close, almost seeing white as you approach your high. he does everything to make it as intense as possible, ending it off with one long stroke from bottom to the tip of your clit.

you wail when you cum, chuuya’s thumb rubbing your clit in circles guiding you through the orgasm. your chest heaves as he moves up higher, placing a kiss on your neck. “don’t worry baby, i’ll make you squirt tonight. just relax.”

safe to say that if chuuya was gonna make you cry, he should do it like this instead.

[flseur]

꒰ 𐙚 like that — satoru gojo ꒱

⟡ synopsis : satoru loves it when you ride him just like that.

⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, cursing, riding, teasing, tit-sucking, satoru cums inside ! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

౨ৎ note : my first ever smut ! and post on this blog ! miss you so much pook pook, come home satoru.

“fuck… yeah baby… jus’ like that.” satoru babbled, like he always did. his hands on your hips, lithe fingers grabbing at your pliant skin. 

even though you’re riding him, satoru is the one in control. his hands move you up and down, guiding your every movement against his cock. he was so deep. you could hardly keep the moans that slipped from your swollen lips. 

his cerulean eyes followed your bouncing tits as you rode him, mouth watering at the sight. god, you were such a fucking dream. 

satoru’s lips met the skin of your breast, the flat of his tongue brushing over your nipple and you shivered at the sensation, grabbing his hair and pulling him impossibly closer.

he moans against your chest before sealing his lips around your nipple and sucking, gently nipping at the bud.

he wished he could film this moment and watch it over and over again.

“satoru… ah! fuck…” you whined. “need your help, please…”

gojo’s eyes rolled to the back of his head at your pleading, you were just so cute. he pulls away with a pop! from your saliva-covered mounds.

“yeah? need my help? my cock fuck you that good, baby?” he says, teasingly thrusting up, and his tip kissing that sweet spot that turns you all mushy.

“yeah, yeah, yes! please, please satoru.” you begged.

he gives you a cocky smirk before leaning up and giving you a sloppy kiss. satoru gently maneuvers you on your back, your bare skin feeling the soft fabric of the couch. 

gojo breaks the kiss, looking down at your lust filled eyes. “i’ll give you what you want…” he whispers before he roughly thrusts back inside of you once again.

you squeal at satoru’s unrelenting pace, and he’d feel guilty about it if it weren’t for the feeling of your hot warmth milking him dry.

you wrap your arms around his neck, sobbing at the pleasure that your boyfriend was giving you.

“look at you,” satoru moans, “taking me, so. fucking. well.” accentuating the phrase between each thrust in your pussy.

you were a whimpering mess beneath him. tears rolled over the apples of your cheeks, throat hoarse from the amount of moans satoru has pulled out of you, and your body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

“c’mon princess, cum. let me know how good ‘m making you feeling.” he reached down between your two bodies and began to swipe quick circles over your puffy clit. “so good for me, so so so good for me, fuck…”

it wasn’t long before you felt the knot that was deep in your stomach begin to unravel due to the ministrations of gojo’s deep thrusts. your nails dug into the pale skin of your boyfriend’s back, leaving long hot trails of red in their wake.

“‘m g’nna cum. a-ah! you’re making cum, oh fuck! satoru!” you loudly moan, your cunt clamps down on his cock and your body shaking with tremors of pleasure.

satoru’s hold on your hips grow tighter, gripping the skin tightly as he fucked into you impossibly faster. “shit, i’m gonna cum… fuck… where do you want me, baby?” he whines, he wants to cum inside you so desperately, to paint your walls white, to stuff your cute little cunt full with his cum, he just needs your permission first.

and he’s hoping so badly that you’ll let him.

“inside! please cum inside me, satoru, please!”

satoru moans at your response, rutting his hips into you at an unforgiving pace until they finally still and he cums inside you, filling you completely. you feel the warmth of it spread across your abdomen as the both of you catch your breaths.

as satoru looks down at you now, chest heaving, hair messy, some of your makeup running and his cum trickling down your pussy, he thinks that there could be no one more perfect for him than you.

flseur © all rights reserved, do not repost, take inspo from my layouts or themes, translate, or claim as your own.

[fishfooddude]

Wet

Jake Seresin x Reader

[Part 2 to Panty Stealer from Kinktober 2024] (This got a lot longer than initially planned so it's gonna be a three-parter)

Top Gun Maverick MasterList

Directory

“Charlie wasn’t a complete pain in the ass, right? If he was, I will ground him,” you asked as you sat next to Jake at the bar. Coming to The Hard Deck after a long week of work with him had become a weekly tradition. There were other aviators around, but the undivided attention Jake gave you was never unappreciated. Jake continued to provide you with all the details on how Charlie was a little shit that deserved to go back to the dumpster you’d found him in as a kitten. You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him, “Hey. That’s my son. I can threaten to put him back in the dumpster I found him in, but you absolutely can not.”

Jake rolled his eyes and quickly downed the last of his beer, “So, how was your vacation?”

You shrugged, “It was fine. Honestly, I was a little lonely without you.” your words were music to his ear. “My sisters never want to do shots with me or play pool or go hit on boys because they’re all married.” 

Jake laughed and nodded awkwardly, “When have we ever hit on boys together?” 

“You watch me hit on boys sometimes.” you challenged. Jake laughed again and conceded to your point.

“Want another round?” he asked, hoping you’d say yes. You shook your head and pulled $20 out of your bag. Jake shook his head and pulled his wallet from his pocket.

“I got it this time, beautiful,” Jake said, taking the money from your hand and putting it back in your purse. You groaned and reached for his wallet. Jake laughed, “You buy the six-pack for football this weekend, and we’ll call it even.” 

“Jake, this was my thank you for cat-sitting. Com’on.” you insisted, still none the wiser about how Jake had helped himself to that pair of underwear from your hamper. He shook his head again, and you gave up on paying for the man’s beer. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back.” 

~

As you checked your makeup in the bathroom mirror, you saw a pair of girls walking in. The one on the left was a cute blonde, and the other was a redhead. You noticed the blonde on the verge of tears, and her friend tried to comfort her, “Girl, he’s not worth it.” the redhead cooed. The blonde shook her head and rushed into the empty stall, “Diana- come on, we don’t cry over aviators!” the girl said outside the door. You weren’t trying to be nosey, but curiosity got the best of you. 

“Carly! He’s never said no to me!” Diana sobbed from behind the stall’s door. “He basically called me ugly!” 

You watched Carly roll her eyes from her reflection in the mirror as you pretended to fix your hair. You had no idea who they were referring to outside of him being an aviator who never says- it was Jake. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You grinned in Carly’s direction and awkwardly slipped out of the bathroom, hoping not to run into either of them again. As you walked out to the bar you saw Jack sitting at the bar, scrolling on his phone. Why would he turn down a girl? Especially one that was very much his type… you lost yourself in thought as you joined him back at the bar. “Ready to go?” Jake asked with a smile plastered on his face. There was a look on Jake’s face; you couldn’t tell what it was from, but you were wary of it. You nodded, and the two of you headed out to your cars. 

Jake walked you to your car, which coincidentally was parked a few down from his truck. As you went to unlock your car door, you dropped your keys. You let out an annoyed huff before bending down to pick them up. You didn’t realize the back of your shirt slid up to reveal the top band of your underwear to Jake… the prettiest shade of blue he’d ever seen. He swallowed hard and awkwardly said bye before quickly returning to his truck. His sudden departure confused you, but you shrugged off the behavior as Jake was just being Jake; sometimes, he was a weird guy.

~

Jake sped home and ran upstairs to his bedroom. As soon as he’d parked his truck in the driveway, he somehow unlocked his front door. He yanked open his bedside table drawer and felt like a halo of light came from beneath his most prized possession at the moment, that tiny dark red thong with the little bow on the front he’d been using as a masturbatory aid since he’d taken them from your bedroom the other week. Jake brought them to his nose and inhaled. The scent had subdued since his initial procurement, but he still picked up on undertones of what your pussy must have smelled like. 

Jake laid back in bed and yanked his jeans down before reaching for the bottle of water-based lube on his bedside table. He popped the top of the bottle and was ready to squirt some out, but before he could, he paused. This was creepy, right? Was this was crossing a boundary? He’d had little remorse over the topic the nights prior, but seeing a minuscule sliver of your panties and then running home to masturbate with the pair of panties he’d stolen from your laundry hamper- this was weird? Was this him doing too much? He groaned and closed his lube before tossing it across the room. You were one of his best friends, one of his coworkers, one of the people he felt he could rely on. He’d turned down the blonde girl he’d taken home several times tonight. He said he ‘wasn’t interested’ and had been actively planning to come home to watch a video on his phone while using your panties, but now there was a pit in his stomach he couldn’t get over.

The next day at work, Jake saw you standing by the radio tower, talking with one of the other girls you worked with. That similar feeling in his stomach returned when you waved to him. He met your wave with a tight grin before pushing his aviators up the bridge of his nose and quickly walking the other way. “Hangman!?” you called after him as he went to the hangar. You shot your coworkers a confused look, “That was weird, right?” you asked her. She nodded before excusing herself to the tower. As much as you wanted to confront him but, you were due in the tower.

There was tension in the air at lunchtime. Since Jake had walked away from you this morning, you’d decided not to sit with him and Javy at lunch. Jake tried his hardest not to make eye contact as you huffed past your usual lunch table. Javy looked over his shoulder to watch you go sit with a group of women on the other side of the lunchroom. “What did you do to that girl?” Javy questioned, shooting Jake a dirty look. 

Jake sighed, “I did something stupid, and I’m embarrassed.”

“You’re embarrassed?” Javy asked in astonishment. Jake wasn’t the kind of guy to be embarrassed, so he must have done something horrible. “What did you do to that girl?” 

“I’m not confessing to shit, Coyote.” Jake challenged, “I just need to compose myself before I hang out with Y/N again.” 

Javy’s brow furrowed as he contemplated what Jake could have done to you, “Did you have a sex dream about her? No shame in that. Y/N’s pretty hot.” Jake rolled his eyes at the question. While he has had numerous sex dreams about you since stealing your panties, he’d never confess to it. “Then what’s goin’ on?” Javy laughed.

“I’m keeping it to myself,” Jake said, putting his hands up defensively.

~

You huffed as you walked up to Jake’s front door, frustrated by his behavior the past few days at work. He’d been ignoring you, and today was the final straw. Another air traffic controller in the communication tower had been trying to get into your pants for months. You said ‘no’ every time he’d try to ask you out, but he just wasn’t taking ‘no’ as an answer. Thankfully, Jake would always step in and tell him to fuck off, but since he was actively avoiding you- you had to endure a 20-minute story about how this guy’s adult kickball team was going to some competition and how he wanted you to come with him.

You pounded on Jake’s door, “Jake, open the door! I know you’re home!” you yelled. Your yelling brought Jake snapped him back to reality. He’d been sitting on his couch after work that night, ‘watching’ baseball alone and running the band of your panties through his fingers. He stuffed the panties in his back pocket before opening the door. 

“Hey…” he awkwardly greeted you when he saw you standing there with your hands on your hips. His eyes were drawn to the form-fitting running shorts you were wearing with an old, worn-in Navy shirt.

“Why are you being weird?” you said, pushing into his house. Jake sighed and closed the door before facing you again. He swallowed softly and waited for you to start berating him. “Did I do something?” he saw your brow furrow together as you asked; Jake shook his head, making you groan. “Talk to me, Jake! We don’t not talk to each other. You’re my best friend.” 

“Listen, Y/N, you didn’t do anything wrong- this is a me thing.” 

“Jake. I have to go to an adult kickball game because you weren’t there to tell Billy to fuck off. This isn’t just some you thing. What happened?” you demanded

Jake stared at the floor before reaching for his back pocket. He was really going to ruin your friendship. “Just don’t hate me…” he said softly before pulling the balled-up pair of panties from his pocket. He put his hand out and slowly opened his fist to reveal the panties he’d taken from your room. You stared at the material in his hand and were initially confused. When you realized what he was holding, you looked up at him quizzically. 

“Are those- why do you… What the fuck, Jake?” you asked, taking your panties from him. “Why are they… wet?” you feared the answer you’d receive, “NO! Don’t answer that question…”

“Y/N- I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have taken them-”

You cut Jake off by touching his shoulder, “Please stop talking. Jake… this is a lot to take in. Um.. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

[bloatedandalone04]

To The One I Love - Part 10

Series Masterlist

➪in which tyler finally gets everything he’s ever wanted, and you are finally his wife.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.3k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🎃

3 weeks later.

“Okay, so maybe vintage was the wrong choice,” you muttered as you tried to guide your arms through the thin sleeves of your wedding dress without poking a hole through the lace. “Seriously, I might actually rip this soon.”

Lilly, who had been watching, and filming you, shook her head and smiled as she set the camera down after letting you struggle for a little longer. “I think it’ll look great once it’s on. Here,” she rolled the sleeve up until it was pretty much a ring of fabric, then you carefully slid your wrist through it and let her pull the rest of it up your arm. Once your other arm was through the other sleeve, she stepped back and nodded with her lips pursed. “Oh yeah, Tyler is definitely gonna start cryin’ when he sees you in this.”

You laughed and turned to look at yourself in the full length mirror, the white skirt of the dress draped along the wooden floor behind you, and you knew you would have to be careful to not trip since you were wearing your white converse under the dress. You weren’t the biggest fan of heels, and they didn’t like you either since they always hurt your feet after wearing them for only a few seconds, so you decided to wear something flat and comfortable. No one could see them anyway, and Tyler was expecting you to be one hundred percent genuine all day, so that’s what you were doing. He knows you’d never willingly wear heels, anyway. 

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” you mumbled as you ran your palms along the lace corset of the dress. “I can’t believe I’m getting married.”

“I can’t believe you’re marryin’ Tyler,” Lilly snorted, but not even she could keep that facade up for too long before she was grinning. “Yeah, I can. Y’all are perfect for each other.” 

Your smile grew as you turned to face her again, but before you could get another word out, the doors to the room you were getting ready in swung open and your mom came rushing in. “There you are-oh, my God!” She gasped, covering her mouth as her eyes instantly filled with tears. 

“Mom,” you warned, your own eyes stinging already as she looked you up and down at least five times before she began silently sobbing. “Don’t…don’t do that, you’re going to make me ruin my makeup.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she practically wailed, accepting a tissue from Lilly as she stepped closer to you. “You just look so beautiful, sweetheart. So damn beautiful.” 

Then you were wrapped up tightly in her arms as she swayed you back and forth, and you gave Lilly an embarrassed look over the top of her head as your mom sobbed into your shoulder. “Oh, mother,”

“Don’t oh, mother, me,” she muttered, pulling away to dab at her eyes with the tissue. “You’re gettin’ married. My baby’s gettin’ married.” 

You grinned from ear to ear as you let Lilly adjust and smooth out your dress. “I know,” you whispered, refraining from jumping up and down as you asked, “Where’s dad?”

Your mom sat down on the bed next to your veil, still dabbing away at her eyes and nose. “Oh, he’s with Ty’s dad. He said he didn’t think he could handle seein’ you like this until he needs to walk you down the aisle,” she answered, running her hand along the thin, lacy material next to her that would soon clip into your hair. “He’s a little torn up about givin’ his baby girl away.” 

“Mom, I’ve been with Tyler for almost half my life,” you laughed, sitting down at the mirror as Lilly began fixing your hair. “I think he gave me away a long time ago.”

“I know that, and he knows that, but it all just kinda hit him today, I think,” she mumbled, meeting your gaze through the mirror with a proud smile. “You are so beautiful.” She said again, handing Lilly the veil once she had pinned your hair into a low bun. 

Once she had slid it into place, you were officially all done up and ready to become Mrs. Owens, and that thought had you screaming a bit on the inside as you turned to face your mom and close friend. “Well?” You asked nervously, giving them a small spin as you waited for their reactions. 

Your mom, of course, just started crying again, and Lilly gave you a big smile and another nod. “Don’t worry, Tyler might actually cry more than your mom is,” she said and your mom scoffed slightly with a watery smile. “He’s been waitin’ for this day for a long time now. I remember when he told me he was thinkin’ about proposin’ to you when I first met him, and that was quite a while ago.”

Your eyes welled up with more tears that you held back as you let out a shaky breath. “God, I can’t believe I made him wait so long,” 

Lilly shook her head, reaching for her phone as she stepped away from you. “Don’t do that. You got there eventually, and I know for a fact that he would’ve waited another eleven years if he had to,” she said, holding the device up in  front of her face to take a photo of you. “Get in there, ma, it’s almost time.”

Your mother quickly tossed the tissue aside before standing next to you, her arms wrapped tightly around you as Lilly snapped countless photos of you. Then she moved onto a few solo ones of you, one being when you weren’t ready as you were reaching up to adjust your veil, but funnily enough, that one was the best out of all of  them since you still managed to look pretty, even when caught off guard. 

“That’s the one,” Lilly hummed, favoriting the photo before setting her phone aside. “That will definitely be Tyler’s new wallpaper once I send it to him later.” 

You blushed and took your mom’s hand when it was time to go meet up with your dad so he could officially hand you off to the love of your life. 

-

Tyler’s hands were shaking as he debated on whether or not to down the mini bottle of whiskey Boone had brought for him to ease his nerves. 

He knew he wasn’t going to actually drink it, at least not until after the ceremony, because he was going to be completely and one hundred percent sober during this part of his wedding. He’d be damned if even a second of yours and his vows was a blurry memory. He needed it to be crystal clear. 

Still, holding the bottle in his hand helped just a bit as he leaned against the barn doors, getting the last breaths of fresh air before he spent the next half an hour inside the barn. “I’m shakin’,” he muttered, looking at the pretty field of grass and wildflowers that surrounded the barn. “Why am I shakin’?”

Boone, who had already downed his shot, placed a comforting hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “‘Cause you’re gettin’ married, dude,” he answered, “My boy’s gettin’ married.”

That had Tyler grinning as he looked over at the farmhouse across the property. You were somewhere in there, getting ready in one of the rooms so you could walk down the aisle to him, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to physically let you go after tonight. 

For as long as he’d been with you, he wanted to marry you. He knew, even when he was a seventeen year old kid, that you were the one and only person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and he’d dreamed of this day for so long. 

He still couldn’t quite believe that it was happening. “I know,” Tyler murmured, looking down at the small bottle in his hand before quickly looking back up at his best friend. “Wait, what if I forget my vows?” 

“I think forgettin’ is Y/n’s thing,” Boone said, and Tyler gave him an unimpressed look that quickly had his best man shaking his head. “You won’t forget your vows because you didn’t write any. You said you knew what you were going to say to her when she meets you at that altar in there.” He gestured to the interior of the barn, and Tyler let his shoulders relax a bit. 

“Right,” he mumbled before putting the bottle of whiskey in his left hand as he patted his pockets down with his right. “What about the rings? What if I left them at the house by accident?”

“T,” Boone said sternly, patting his own suit pocket. “I have them right here. You have everythin’ you need, and everythin’s in order. Lil and I made sure of that, okay?”

Tyler nodded slowly, willing himself to calm down because he knew Boone’s words were true. Tyler had been waiting for this day for what felt like forever, he knew he was only nervous because he wanted everything to be perfect. You deserved that much. 

When it was nearly time, Tyler felt his phone go off with a text, and when he opened the message, he suddenly felt a lot calmer. 

My Babe 💕: I can’t wait to see you in exactly nine minutes. I love you so much, Ty. The next time we see each other, it’ll be when we say our vows. 

You added a multitude of hearts at the end, and Tyler wanted to turn around and search every room of that house for you so he could pull you into his arms and never let you go. 

“Fuck, Boone, I need you to take this,” he muttered, shoving his phone into his best mans hands as he turned around and walked into the barn, deciding that he was going to stand at the alter for the next nine minutes until you would come join him there. 

The barn was full of both yours and Tyler’s family and friends, both old and new as Dr. James and Nurse Karson were a few rows down from the front. Your mom and Tyler’s parents and aunt were in the front row, his mother barely keeping it together as she looked at him all done up in his tux. 

And after those nine minutes had passed painfully slowly, Boone was standing a few feet away from Tyler  while Lilly stood across from him, and then it was your turn. 

You walked into the barn with such grace, Tyler felt himself become unsteady as your father walked you towards him. He had no doubt that you’d look stunning, because you always did, but you were drop dead gorgeous in your lace dress, your veil trailing behind you as you clutched your bouquet of wildflowers, similar to the ones that made up the field this barn was in the middle of. 

Tyler cursed at himself in his head when he felt his eyes start burning with tears, and he couldn’t even process the soft laugh from Lilly as your dad pressed a kiss to your cheek before officially handing you off. 

Once your dad was next to your mom, who was crying next to Tyler’s mom, that’s when it began. 

Tyler’s hands were shaking, and he discovered that yours were too as he reached for them after you handed your bouquet to Lilly. The officiant began speaking, but it was all muffled to Tyler as he took you in as if he didn’t know every inch of you off by heart. 

Every part of you was familiar, and had been for nearly a decade and a half, and Tyler never wanted to forget any of it. The way you fit in his arms, the undeniable look of love in your eyes that mirrored the look in his own, the way everything felt right in the world every time your lips touched his. 

Before he knew it, the time came for Tyler to begin his vows, and he remembered why he didn’t bother to write them down. Because after everything you and he had been through, and seeing you right here in front of him, he knew he would always have all he needed. And that was you. 

“Y/n,” he started, and even your name sounded a bit shaky as he squeezed your hands. “I remember the exact moment I first saw you. I was fourteen years old and scared that I wouldn’t make the football team in high school, and then I saw you, tucked away under that tree behind the field. You were reading Wuthering Heights for your English class, though I would later find out that you had already read that book before, because of course you did. When I saw you, I wasn’t scared or nervous anymore. Just one look, and you took all that away and replaced it with the very same feelin’ you give me to this day. Peace. And so much happiness, I knew I was going to find a way to talk to you so I could keep you in my life forever.” 

Even through the blurriness of his vision, Tyler was still able to see the tears gathering in your own eyes, and he knew his vows were going to just be him rambling at this point, but he didn’t care since they made you react like this. Since they made you look this perfect and in love with him. 

“But even forever isn’t long enough with you. No time will ever be enough. You complete me in every single way. You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world that you chose me to spend the rest of your life with. Every look, every smile, every touch makes me fall more and more, hopelessly in love with you, and I hope you keep lookin’ at me exactly like this every day for the rest of my life,” his hands squeezed yours gently as he wrapped it up, knowing damn well he could go on for hours if he was allowed to. “I promise you, right here and right now, that I will love you until I take my last breath, and even after. You’re my first thought when I wake up, and you have been every single day for the last eleven years of our lives. You’re my forever person, the only one I want to start and end my days with, and I promise you that I will continue to always be your biggest supporter, fan, and to love you unconditionally.”

You were sniffling now, trying to carefully wipe under your eyes as you turned your head away from him and towards your mom, who gave you an encouraging smile. 

Once you were decently composed, you turned back to Tyler, and he grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “I guess you’re right, I can be sweet when I want to be,” he murmured against your skin and you laughed tearfully. 

“You’re always sweet,” you said back, “And not only to me. The way you are with Lilly, Boone and everyone else who has ever gotten to spend more than a few minutes with you, that’s the version of you that drives me crazy. Every part of you, every single inch has me totally screwed, because you’re the best person in my life. And definitely the craziest.”

Well, that was very true. But you were pretty crazy yourself. You chose him to be your husband, after all. 

“But that’s what makes you perfect for me, because you bring out my crazy side too, and yet we somehow fit together so well. And I can tell you right here and right now, that no matter what life may bring us, I will always love you with every fiber of my being. And you know I mean that, because very recently I managed to forget us for a short while, but you stayed by my side every single step of the way. You gave me hope and support and love, and you are my endless supply of all those things, and I love you so much for it,” you were getting a bit quiet now, but Tyler could still hear you as clear as day, and he noticed that you weren’t reading off a piece of paper either, and he knew that you couldn’t memorize anything to save your life, so it was clear that you hadn’t written your vows down either. “I never forgot about how you own my heart completely, and I never doubted that I’d spend the rest of my days with you. You’re my protector, my safety when things get scary. I promise you, Ty, that I will never leave your side, and I’ll adore you and love you, and be your partner in every sense of the word. Forever.” 

Now Tyler was damn near sobbing, his teeth nearly piercing his lip as he tried to keep it together. But how could he after all of that? 

His teary eyes stayed locked on yours as he blindly reached behind him, taking your wedding band from Boone and sliding it onto your finger above the engagement ring you had finally accepted only three weeks prior to this. “I love you,” he mumbled, his right hand cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him, and you were. 

“I love you,” you said back after taking his wedding band from Lilly and sliding it onto his finger, where it would stay for the rest of his life. 

Then he was allowed to kiss you, and he went all in. 

His hands were on your face, guiding your lips to his in a deep kiss as your fingers cradled his jaw. He kissed you over and over again, his heart feeling unbelievably full as he realized that you’re his wife now. You were all his, forever. 

As if you weren’t before, but now it was official. 

Later that night, after countless photos and lemon cake and kissing, Tyler took you back home. Lilly had sent him some of the most gorgeous pictures he had ever seen of you while you were getting ready, and he instantly made one of them his phone’s wallpaper. He would probably never change that. Well, maybe he’d swap it out for a picture of you holding his baby in your arms, but that was it. 

When he got you into your bedroom, he carefully unzipped your dress as if it was the most fragile thing he had ever touched, and left it on the floor as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed. 

Your bodies were bare, his skin feeling like it was on fire as it brushed against yours. His hands were everywhere, as were yours, and his lips were pressing kisses anywhere they could reach. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against your collarbone before he lifted his head and pressed a deep kiss to your lips. “I love you so fuckin’ much, baby.” 

He was met with a soft whimper, and the feeling of your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as he guided himself inside you. “I love you too,” you breathed out, tangling your ring-clad fingers into his hair as you pressed your forehead against yours. “So much, Ty. Forever, and ever…and ever.”

You continued like that, whispering sweet words into his ear as he made love to you for the first time as your husband, the love and trust you had for each other undeniable, even in private moments like this one. 

And as he got you to your high multiple times, he knew he would always be feeling his own high, because you were his addiction, his soulmate, and the love of his life.

-

The End ! Thank you for reading this series, I adored writing every part of it !

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 12: Aphrodite, Goddess Of Love] [Series Finale]

A/N: Surprise!!! A new chapter from Maggie?? On a Thursday?? I was just too excited to wait! Please enjoy the final installment of 1968 🥰💜

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

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

Word Count: 6k

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

The sun is rising, and all the guests have dissipated like morning stars. You and Aegon are sitting across from each other at the table in the kitchenette of your suite, cool grey morning light slanting into the silence, confetti on the floor, broken glass, crumbs from the catered appetizers—gyros, hummus, pita, mini spanakopitas, baklava—stomped into the carpet, spots that are soggy with spilled champagne. The Plaza might have to replace it. Outside, rain falls in a mist. Your makeup is smudged; your hair is falling out of its clips and pins. Aemond is waiting, standing with his back to the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, blonde hair slicked back, blue suit, prosthetic eye filling the void in his skull. You know what happens next, but you can’t bring yourself to rise, to speak, to set it into motion. You stare down at the lines in the palm of your uninjured hand and think of the ropes of a sailboat, the invisible strings of gravity that enchain the universe.

Aegon swipes at his eyes: bloodshot, vacant, continuously streaming tears. “I’m gonna go back to Yuma.” 

You look up at him, startled. “Right now?”

“Right now,” Aemond agrees from the wall.

Aegon begs you in a hoarse whisper, eyes dark and glistening like the Atlantic at night: “Come with me.”

Your hands shaking, your voice splintering. “I can’t, Aegon. I can’t.”

He drums his knuckles on the table, gets up from his chair, rushes to you before Aemond can stop him. He’s holding you, his lips to your forehead, the salt of his tears on your cheeks and your lips, like the ocean is bleeding out of him, like he’ll drown you. “I’m sorry,” he says, breath catching in his throat, his pores hemorrhaging smoke, horror, rum, ruin. 

Once you pushed Aegon away, hated him, stained him with your husband’s blood. Now your fingernails hook like claws into his army jacket and cling there, frantic and childlike. “Not yet, please, Aegon, don’t go, please don’t go.”

“I have to, I’m sorry.”

“Aegon, no–”

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He’s sobbing, he’s trembling, he’s gone. The doorway is empty like an unfinished sentence, like a myth no one remembers. The silence floods back into the rain-grey November air. The room is cold like a mausoleum. You touch your own face: tears Aegon left there, muscles and nerves dead beneath your skin, disbelief you sink through like the sea, waiting to hit the floor deep with the silt of rocks and wreckage and bones.

He’s gone? He’s really gone?

Aemond stalks over to the table, smirking, radiant, his hands in the pockets of his suit; he takes his time, he savors it. He’s never been higher. He was right all along. He can’t be killed, he is destined to be the president. It is God’s will. “Get ready,” Aemond says. “I have a victory speech to make.”

~~~~~~~~~~

He heads west on Route 70, billboards and drive-thrus, toll booths and reflective green mile markers, the kids fighting over who gets to pick the radio station from the back of the Dodge A-100 that Otto had hastily procured, handing over the keys as Aegon rolled his suitcase out of the Plaza Hotel. That first night they stop in Wheeling, Ohio, and the kids have startlingly little resistance to this upheaval. They can’t find much to complain about. A road trip with Dad and only Dad, no journalists badgering them for photos or quotes, no orders barked from Otto or Aemond, no exacting campaign itinerary, no scripted propriety, Mountain Dew spills on the carpet, Pizza Hut boxes on cheap springy motel mattresses.

“What do you think about all this?” Aegon asks Orion when the younger ones have dozed off: Cosmo and Thaddeus on one bed, Violeta in another, Spiro lounging across the threadbare sofa with a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring resting open on his chest.

Orion shrugs, that adolescent aversion to vulnerability, like the whole world is out to shake you down for evidence of the defections you’re so convinced define you. “It’s cool, I guess. It’s like an adventure. And we’ll get to see you a lot more.”

“Yeah you will,” Aegon promises. He feels sick: no booze, no pills, the grease of pepperoni churning in his belly. “And I’m never gonna be the way I was before.”

The bathroom is tiny and spartan, white porcelain, black specks of mildew. When he’s done showering, Aegon wipes the fog off the mirror with his fist. In Ancient Greece, a shaved head was the mark of a slave; it was meant to strip the man of his past, to make him brand new. He remembers Aemond saying this one afternoon as they were all out sailing at Asteria, Aegon sprawled on his back and drinking rum from the bottle as beams of sunlight refracted through the glass, Aemond leafing through one of his history books, Helaena throwing bits of pita to the seagulls, Daeron peering through his telescope for glimpses of dolphins, sharks, bobbing treasure from shipwrecks, imagined enemy vessels. Aegon thinks as he studies his reflection under the harsh fluorescent lights—crinkles by his eyes, skin ravaged by years of careless sunburn—that he wouldn’t mind not having a past. He opens his shaving kit and takes out the straight razor he never uses, shears off his tangled, windswept locks of blonde hair, smiles when the kids laugh and call him Yul Brynner the next morning over breakfast at the diner beside the motel, blueberry pancakes and toast wet with egg yolks. He’s not brand new; it’s impossible to be. But he’s getting closer.

The Fort Yuma Indian Reservation has grown during the Kennedy and Johnson years. The tribe now enjoys a steady income from numerous projects, including the leasing of farmland, a convenience store, a casino and resort, and an RV park. The school has been rebuilt—bigger, more modern, air conditioning, hallelujah—since Aegon was first exiled here twenty years ago, but several of the employees have familiar faces, and the current principal was once an English teacher assigned to be his mentor, a different lifetime, an ancient myth.

“You look good,” Artie says as he descends the concrete front steps on an afternoon in mid-November, 75 degrees, bright cerulean sky, no clouds. He takes Aegon’s outstretched hand and shakes it. “Kind of fat, but good. You still play guitar?”

“I do, yeah. I have one in the back of my van right now.”

Artie glances at the giggling, waving children behind the glass windows. “Jesus Pleasus, how many kids you got?”

Aegon chuckles. “Five, I think.”

“Five! Well, they’re welcome to attend here, if you want them to be where you are.”

“That’s a very generous offer. They’ve never gone to a real school before. They had private tutors in New Jersey.”

“What a great way to raise jackasses, if you ask me.” Artie gives him a stern look over, wrinkled brow, narrowed brown eyes. “You sober?”

“No pills, no drinking, occasional weed.”

“Goddamn, that’s a lot better than I expected.”

“Hey Artie?”

“Uh huh.”

“Would you happen to need a math teacher?”

Artie studies him thoughtfully. “I mean, we’re always looking for qualified math and science people. They leave the quickest, those aerospace and electronics companies over in California pay too much. Why? You know someone?”

“I used to,” Aegon says, then motions for his kids to get out of the van. Artie lets them eat ice cream in the cafeteria while Aegon signs his contract.

He’s in Yuma for three weeks before he meets a girl. Her name is Rachel, and she’s a dream that walked out of the Summer Of Love: hair down to her waist, boots to her knees, handknit vests, chipped nail polish and teasing smiles, a taste for sun and smoking. At night they sit under the stars behind Aegon’s bungalow out in the desert, roasting marshmallows and hotdogs with the kids, Aegon strumming his guitar, Rachel playing her harmonica, a few homely adopted mutts loping around instead of purebred Alopekis. She likes him, this boyish sunbeam of a man who always seems just a little lost, a little sad. She might even love him.

And yet there are ghosts, beasts, threads the fates have not yet severed. One night in January after the kids have gone to sleep, Aegon is flipping through television channels as Rachel returns to the couch with a bowl full of Jiffy Pop, plops down onto the cushions, curls up against him. Aegon stumbles upon CBS Evening News, a clip from the inauguration, and his words vanish mid-sentence, his eyes—an opaque, stormy, melancholic sort of blue—growing wide. He doesn’t change the channel. He doesn’t move at all.

“What?” Rachel asks. On the screen is a clip of President Targaryen being sworn in, his wife at his side and cradling the Bible in her hands. She’s wearing Oscar de la Renta—a powder blue wool coat that matches her husband’s tie—and a stately new hairstyle that is very distinctly inspired by Jackie Kennedy. Her smile is serene and dignified, if perhaps a bit remote. She could be a marble statue in a garden or a museum. It must be a lot of pressure for her, Rachel thinks. To live up to being the partner of a man that remarkable. “Aegon? Baby, are you okay?”

After a long time Aegon says, very softly, like it’s only to himself: “He made her cut her hair.”

Rachel stares mystified at the television and then turns back to Aegon. “What happened with her?” Something must have. He looks staggered, he looks haunted, he looks like someone Medusa turned to stone. Rachel knows about who Aegon is, of course, everyone does; but he never wants to talk about it. When people mention his family, Aegon smiles politely and then changes the subject. When they ask about his sister-in-law, he says he needs a cigarette and walks out of the room. She sent him a beautiful, shimmering gold acoustic Gibson guitar for Christmas; the first lady’s name was on the return address. To Rachel’s knowledge, Aegon never thanked her.

Aegon shakes his head, and Rachel can’t tell if that means the story is too long or too short, unrealized potential, loose kaleidoscopic strands of stardust, infinitesimal moments that wouldn’t have meaning to anyone else. “Nothing.” Then he resumes switching channels: I Dream of Jeannie, Bewitched, the Newlywed Game.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your parents fly north for the inauguration, so proud, so effusive, interviewed by every major news network. Business is booming at the Spongeorama Sponge Factory back in Tarpon Springs. They are seated between Alicent and Ludwika’s mother Elzbieta, newly arrived from Poland. LBJ and Lady Bird are cordial but uncharacteristically understated, retreating back to their home state of Texas like kicked dogs. All the defeated adversaries of the campaign trail attend to show their support, to wordlessly plead for a long-awaited national reconciliation. George Wallace won’t meet your eyes. Richard Nixon whispers through your hair as he clasps your scarred hand: “Aemond could never have done this without you.”

Jackie Kennedy’s chosen cause as first lady was the restoration of the White House, Lady Bird’s was environmental protection. You want to visit schools and help teach math to little kids, but Aemond decides it would be more politically expedient for you to be seen tending to wounded veterans of Vietnam; so you spend many of your days in hospitals, inhaling charred flesh and Lysol and dying flowers and blood. The Japanese ambassador bows lower to you than he does to Aemond. The prime minister of France tries (unsuccessfully) to flirt with you. Athenagoras I of Constantinople, the Archbishop of the Greek Orthodox Church, brings you a komboskini he has blessed. Reprieves come in slivers like a disappearing moon: lunches with Fosco–carpaccio, caprese, bolognese, polenta–and drinks with Ludwika, always something with rum, something that tastes like Aegon. You dream of incubators and arterial spray, stitches and scars and crimson bandages, the flash of blades, the thunder of bullets; but the would-be assassins go to prison and no one else ever tries. You are Persephone in the Underworld. You are Io in the wilderness.

You are just beginning to panic about what you’ll do when your tiny pink birth control pills run out when Fosco shows up to one of your lunches with a paper bag full of familiar circular packets. “I have been informed that I am to be your dealer,” he says, grinning. “I will be back with more in six months. I told the doctor they were for my mistress. I don’t even have a mistress! Isn’t this exciting? I am like a secret agent. I am the Italian James Bond. The name’s Viviani, Fosco Viviani.”

“Aegon asked you to do this?”

“Well, he did not ask, exactly. I do not think I was allowed to say no.”

You hide the paper bag in the Louis Vuitton purse Ludwika bought you, so thankful you don’t have words for it, missing Aegon like Orpheus missed Eurydice, searching through the shade-haunted grey haze of the Underworld for her.

“It was odd,” Fosco says quietly, delicately. “He did not want to know anything about you. He asked if you needed anything else that I was aware of, I said no, and then he hung up when I started to tell him about Christmas dinner.”

You remember Aegon’s words, ghosts from where Long Beach Island meets the Atlantic Ocean: Mimi wasn’t as strong as you. Maybe what Aegon didn’t say is that he isn’t either. You imagine the fates snipping threads, the memoryless oblivion offered by the River Lethe, moons becoming greater and lesser. He has to try to forget you. You have to let him.

On Valentine’s Day weekend, Daeron comes home. He and John McCain are the last two men freed from the prisoner of war camp known as the Hanoi Hilton. When he steps off the plane, Daeron is carrying with him, of all things, a single white rat in a wire cage. The first question he asks, after being engulfed in embraces from Alicent, Criston, and Fosco, is: “Where’s Aegon?” And he knows from the stilted, piecemeal explanations he receives that something has happened. You take Daeron to breakfast the next morning, and you don’t tell him everything, but you tell him enough. He spends a month recuperating at Asteria, then follows Zephyr, the god of the west wind, across the country to Arizona.

Aegon didn’t send you anything for Christmas, and he didn’t respond to the guitar you gifted him with Ludwika’s assistance. But on July 13th, a green envelope arrives in your mail basket with no return address. You open it to find a greeting card with an exuberant cow on the front. Inside, the original message—You’re mooooooving on up in the world! Happy retirement!—has been crossed out with black ink. You laugh, your first real laugh in weeks, and then read what Aegon has written in his chaotic, scribbling penmanship:

I thought this was blank :)

Hope you’re doing okay. You look great on tv.

Then there is an expanse of open white space, like a weighty hesitation. There’s no signature, but there is one final note like a postscript.

Thank you for the guitar, but please don’t send anything else. It fucks me up, you know?

Yes, you do know. Aegon never calls you, but Cosmo does. Once or twice a week he dials your private line at the White House–Aegon must have asked Fosco for it–and tells you all about his new life in Yuma, his school, his friends, the dogs, the desert. Aegon’s met someone named Rachel; Cosmo mentions her intermittently yet with unmistakable fondness: “Rachel makes the best s’mores,” “Rachel told me about seeing Jimi Hendrix at Woodstock,” “Rachel took us to pick pumpkins for Halloween.” You’re glad Cosmo calls, and you’re glad he’s happy; but afterwards you always feel so indescribably, irredeemably sad.

You sneak your pills and avoid Aemond as much as you can, something that becomes easier as he spends long hours reviewing briefs in the Oval Office, preparing speeches, meeting foreign dignitaries, strategizing with his cabinet, and scheming against his conservative foes across the nation, a faction soon led by California governor Ronald Reagan. You stand perfectly still as designers alter Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent and Givenchy to fit you like woolen armor. You strike up a chaste, harmless flirtation with a Secret Service agent from Atlanta named Nathaniel, not because he reminds you of Aegon—Nate is 6’4, 250 pounds, and a former Navy SEAL—but because he listens, because he is kind. He gives you riveting summaries of films and books that are considered too scandalous for you to be seen enjoying. He makes fun of your matronly skirt suits. He takes you to get lemon-lime Mr. Mistys at Dairy Queen. He massages your scarred hand with rose oil.

In May of 1969, Aemond voices support for university students across the nation protesting in favor of increased Black faculty and Africana Studies courses. In July, the Apollo 11 mission lands the first men on the moon, effectively ending the Space Race with an American victory. In September, Lieutenant William Calley receives a sentence of life in prison for his role in the My Lai Massacre the previous year. In November, the Rolling Stones release a new album entitled Let It Bleed. Ludwika gives you the record for Christmas along with an array of perfumes and lipsticks, all extravagantly packaged in a pink Gucci gift box. Your favorite song is Gimme Shelter. You listen to it at dusk in the Jacqueline Kennedy Garden, your chair facing west, taking slow drags off Lucky Strike cigarettes that Nate buys for you, embers glowing as the sun disappears.

“What’s out there?” Nate asks you one night with a slinky half-grin, and then when you don’t immediately answer: “You’re always looking that way. What are you looking for?”

You don’t know what to tell him. Nothing. Everything. Something that almost happened. And slowly, under a lavender twilight peppered with the remote glimmers of constellations—stars that cannot be changed, disasters predestined since before you were born—Nate’s smile dies, and he never asks again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three time zones away, Aegon’s hair grows out and he gets his ears re-pierced, tiny gold hoops that make him think of wedding rings. Rachel pretends she doesn’t want to get married. Aegon doesn’t offer. Once in a while after the kids have gone to bed, he climbs into the hammock in the backyard and smokes a joint, staring absently into the east as the new Rolling Stones album spins on the record player. Aegon’s favorite song is You Can’t Always Get What You Want. Rachel stands at the telescope they set up for the kids—Cosmo’s idea—and stargazes, making her way down a checklist of visible celestial objects.

One night Aegon asks as she’s squinting through the eyepiece: “Where’s Jupiter?”

Rachel glances over at him, then points up at the indigo sky. “It’s that one, the really bright spot near Perseus. Why?”

Aegon shrugs, exhaling smoke. “No reason,” he says; but he’s still looking at Jupiter, wounded, stoned wonder floating on the surface of his watery eyes.

Daeron settles down in Yuma and buys a ranch. He does some work at the VA Hospital a few hours away in Tucson, some white water rafting on the Colorado River, some hiking in the Kofa National Wildlife Refuge, a whole lot of roughhousing with his niece and nephews. John McCain, now a war hero and national celebrity, is always calling to see if Daeron has decided to run for office yet. A few times a year, they receive visitors from the East Coast: Alicent, Criston, Ludwika, Helaena, Fosco, and their three children. The president and first lady are not mentioned unless by accident. The kids adore their grandmother, and she loves them back, although Alicent never learns to appreciate Tessarion the rat and refuses to hold her. In 1970, Helaena and Fosco have one last baby, a daughter they name Marina after Mimi. Life goes on, but the ghosts remain.

On a chilly evening in January of 1972, Aegon is flipping through television channels when he lands on an NBC segment about First Lady Targaryen touring the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland. “That’s so fucked up,” Aegon murmurs as she calmly soothes the suffering of mutilated men, and his voice is dark with scorching, clandestine fury. He gestures to the screen with the remote control. “She hates hospitals. He makes her do things that hurt her. He does it just to prove he can.”

Rachel says as she stands in the threshold between the living room and the kitchen, a question she has finally worked up the courage to ask: “No one is ever going to be able to compare to her, right?”

Aegon opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it again. And something washes over him like waves of the ocean, sun on sand, poison in the blood and the lungs, myths that carve themselves into your bones so deep you can see the red of the marrow underneath. He replies truthfully, his eyes still on the screen: “Right.”

Rachel packs her bags. Aegon gets up to help her. He feels it’s the least he can do.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you and Aemond return to Asteria for summer vacations, the seaside Targaryen compound is full of ghosts. You catch glimpses of Mimi stumbling up staircases, Cosmo trotting after you as you turn corners, Aegon smoking a joint under the statue of Zeus in Helaena’s garden. You open cabinets and bottles of his pills fall out. You see Sunfyre bobbing abandoned in the boathouse. The basement is just as Aegon left it. Sometimes you go down there and stand on the green shag carpet in the hushed, cool, damp emptiness, not knowing what you’re waiting for, staring at the wall until someone comes to look for you.

“What’s in these?” Nate asks one afternoon, snatching a notebook off the shelf. “Oh wow, look!” He shows you messy sketches in black ink, cartoon versions of the stories of Greek gods and goddesses, myths reimagined. “Who do you think drew them?”

“Maybe Daeron,” you reply, but it wasn’t him. You’d know Aegon’s handwriting anywhere. Nate leafs through a bunch of the notebooks, booming laughter—he especially enjoys that Poseidon has been characterized as a sexually insatiable dolphin—and reading his favorite parts out loud to you. One notebook is only half-full; the last few pages are covered with drawings of tiny cows, telephones with long spiral cords, the moon in all its phases. You tear these out to keep.

On each July 13th, there is a card with no return address waiting in your mail basket at the White House, always featuring a jovial cow, always making you smile. You entrust Nate with the task of hiding the notebook pages and greeting cards away somewhere safe, an arrangement he honors like an oath.

Every so often, when you feel lethal bitterness kindling, you are struck by the inspiration to find Aemond’s Ouija board. It must be here in the White House someplace, but you can’t figure out where. You search the bedrooms, rummage through closets, climb into the oak cabinets beneath bathroom sinks; you scrabble around like a rodent under the cover of darkness while Aemond is away on state visits and campaign rallies for fellow Democrats. Maybe he makes secret stops in Tacoma or Seattle. If he does, you don’t care. You’d rather Aemond be there than here.

In the spring of 1972, you find the Ouija board in a drawer of the Resolute desk, where Aemond conducts official business in the Oval Office. “Oh, that is insane,” you say to yourself as you slide it out. You mean to burn it in your bedroom fireplace, then think again. On the back of the board, the inscription has faded, as if traced by Aemond’s fingertips again and again.

If I destroy this, what will he do to Aegon and his children? What will he do to me?

You place the Ouija board back where you found it, slide the drawer shut, and crawl into bed, besieged by dreams of smoke and rum and the rumbling bass of Season Of The Witch.

Aemond’s national approval rating hovers between 55-70%—far about the historical average, although he never stops pining for an heir and proper first family to maximize his allure—until May of 1972, when the tide begins to turn. The treaty formally ending U.S. involvement in the war was signed back in early 1969, but the hasty troop withdrawal left capitalist South Vietnam vulnerable, and now it is being invaded by the communists backed by China and Russia. The Fall of Saigon is immortalized in the evening news, printed on the covers of newspapers; people who once collaborated with the Americans are shot dead in the streets. Refugees flee west to Laos and Cambodia and Thailand, east on makeshift rafts into the ocean. The few that Aemond manages to hurriedly admit into the U.S. inspire racism and xenophobia from suburbanites. Many of the hippies have grown up, had children, gotten jobs, settled down with credit cards and mortgages. Protestors march with signs out on Pennsylvania Avenue: America abandons her allies! Our global reputation is in peril! Will the communists invade here next? What did my son die for?

“They wanted me to end it,” Aemond marvels as he gazes out the White House windows. “They begged for me to end it, and now look at them. Ungrateful imbecile bastards.”

And you give him a rare piece of advice that he listens to: “You should call LBJ.”

On his ranch fifty miles outside of Austin, Texas, Lyndon Baines Johnson is dying of heart failure. Still, he smokes more or less constantly, and refuses to adhere to the diet Lady Bird fretfully lectures their chefs about. He has grown his grey hair long and sits for as many interviews as he can, desperate to salvage his legacy and remind people of the things he did right: civil rights legislation, the War On Poverty, rising from a poor farming family to the Oval Office. He knows exactly what it feels like to be hated for having no good options. He says gruffly through the phone: “The Vietnam War needed to end, Aemond. It had to happen. But someone has to pay for it, too. That’s your job now. Take the fall, and the country survives. Plenty of people still love you. And I’m proud of you, son. I know it ain’t easy, believe me. But I’m real proud.”

Still, Aemond fights. He can’t help it. It’s all he’s ever known.

He campaigns at a murderous pace, and you have to follow him across the nation. Perhaps intentionally, there are no campaign stops in Arizona. Aemond does very well, but Ronald Reagan does better; he’s quick and he’s cutting, but he’s also funny, and grandfatherly, and warm, and God knows the American people could use some of that after the past decade. He characterizes Aemond’s policy regarding Vietnam as “peace without honor.” He calls Aemond short-sighted about a dozen times, a jab his supporters guffaw at. He says the United States has surrendered its rightful place as the leader of the free world. His wife Nancy—his second wife—is vehemently opposed to recreational drugs and other supposed moral crimes including abortion and premarital sex. You hate her, and she hates you right back, though in a perfectly pleasant, ever-smiling, mid-century housewife sort of way. Reagan’s disciples call you a whore. Aemond gets the newspapers still loyal to him to publish scathing denials. You aren’t exactly sure why he does this; no comment at all would almost certainly be wiser politically, as Otto advises. But Aemond does it anyway, with deep trenches of violent determination knit into his scarred brow.

The 1972 presidential election is held on Tuesday, November 7th. It is not until the early hours of the morning on Wednesday the 8th that Aemond learns he has narrowly lost. It couldn’t possibly be construed as your fault; he wins Florida by a greater margin than he had in 1968. As the sun rises in a bright, cloudless sky, Aemond’s entourage clears out of the Lincoln Sitting Room, leaving the two of you alone with the droning television. Aemond is sipping an Old Fashioned on one end of the couch. You light yourself a Lucky Strike cigarette on the other. For once, Aemond doesn’t seem to mind.

“You know,” Aemond muses after a while. “Ronald Reagan is divorced.”

Your heart is racing; you aren’t sure what he’s offering. You’re petrified to say the wrong thing and change his mind. “Yeah, he is.”

Aemond nods, twirling his Old Fashioned so the ice cubes clink against the misty glass, not looking at you. “I think I’ll marry Alys and adopt the boy.”

And that’s how you learn that what Aegon said in the doorway of a hospital room four and half years ago was true, no impassioned declarations, no gratitude, only grudges that have grown quiet and cold and dormant. At last, Aemond is done with you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Otto, glowering spitefully, getaway car procurement extraordinaire, hands you the keys to a green Chevy Nova. On the front steps of the White House, you say goodbye to a palpably heartbroken Nate. He gives you the notebook pages and greetings cards. You give him a kiss on the cheek, a parting stain of red lipstick. But instead of blood, the color makes you think of cherry-flavored Mr. Mistys, the Lucky Strike logo, roses, sunburn, firelight, the rust-hued earth of the desert. You duck into the Nova and start driving.

The East Coast unfolds into the Midwest and then turns jagged as you hit the Rocky Mountains. At a gas station in Albuquerque, New Mexico, you toss your remaining birth control pills—still squirreled away in a box of hollowed-out tampons—into a trash bin. At a McDonald’s in Asher, Arizona, just forty minutes outside of Yuma, you stop to get a large Coca-Cola and touch up your makeup in the bathroom mirror: black eyeliner, gold shadow, both as heavy as you want them to be. You stroll back to your Nova under a radiant November sky that feels like summer, smiling to yourself. The hem of your roomy, floral skirt billows around your brown leather boots in the desert wind. Your earrings are small, glinting gold hoops. Your white tank top is simple and hand-crocheted, found at a yard sale in Amarillo, Texas; but your sunglasses are Bugatti, a gift from Ludwika.

You park outside the only school on the Fort Yuma Indian Reservation and go inside to the front office. The secretary says distractedly: “Can I help you, ma’am?” Then she does a double take. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear, do I…do I know you from somewhere…?”

“You might,” you say, pushing your sunglasses up into your hair. It’s only shoulder-length now, but growing, and wild from the wind. “I was hoping to find Mr. Targaryen, does he still work here?”

“He sure does, but he doesn’t like anyone calling him that.”

Of course he wouldn’t. “Just Aegon then. Which classroom is…?”

But before you can finish your question, and before she can answer, you hear echoing through the labyrinthian hallways the start of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Bad Moon Rising, not just an acoustic guitar but bass and drums too.

“I see the bad moon a-risin’

I see trouble on the way

I see earthquakes and lightnin’

I see bad times today

Don’t go around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

The secretary laughs, keeping rhythm with taps of her pencil on her desk. “I guess you can find him on your own, can’t ya?”

Yes, you can. You follow the music through long empty corridors, wondering where all the students are. You drag your fingertips—black polish, chipped around the edges—along grooves in the cinder block walls that have been painted over with vibrant murals. The song is getting louder, and now you hear other noises too, an ocean of energetic voices and squealing chairs.

“I hear hurricanes a-blowin’

I know the end is comin’ soon

I fear rivers over flowin’

I hear the voice of rage and ruin

Don’t go around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise, alright!”

You step into the cafeteria, raucous with students swapping pudding cups and bags of chips. Many of them are watching the stage, clapping along, playing their own imaginary guitars. Aegon is there strumming the sparkling gold guitar you sent him for Christmas back in 1968. He hasn’t seen you yet; he’s grinning at the kids up on the stage with him—his fellow bandmates, his fledgling rockstars—and leaning back from the mic to give them pointers. But Cosmo has. He flies out of his seat and crashes into you, now nearly ten years old, long blonde hair, a Rolling Stones t-shirt.

“You’re back!” he bellows over the music as you hug him. Teachers chatting amongst themselves by the wall give you curious glances.

“Yeah, kiddo. I am.”

“For a visit?”

“Maybe for a little longer than that.”

“Yay!” he shouts, jumping up and down.

You look back to Aegon, and now his eyes catch on yours: instantaneous recognition, disbelief, amazement. He’s just like you remember him; he’s just like he is in your dreams. You raise an eyebrow and wave tentatively. His own words surface in your skull like swimming up through cool, sunlit water: What are we gonna do about it? And Aegon smiles, the god of light, music, healing, truth.

Now his tiny bandmates are yelling at him, irate. He’s still plucking at his guitar on autopilot, but he’s missed his cue to sing the last verse. He shakes off his astonishment and continues, beaming, watching you.

“Hope you got your things together

Hope you are quite prepared to die

Looks like we’re in for nasty weather

One eye is taken for an eye

Well don’t go around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

Cosmo sprints back to his lunch to stop a friend from seizing his unguarded Ding Dongs.

“Don’t come around tonight

Well it’s bound to take your life

There’s a bad moon on the rise.”

Aegon gives his guitar a final few strums as the cafeteria erupts into cheers and applause. His bandmates bow to their audience as Aegon takes off his guitar, leaps down from the stage, runs to you as children twist in their seats to stare. He’s wearing khaki shorts, tan moccasins, a half-unbuttoned white shirt that actually fits him, dog tags with Daeron’s name on them. He’s so afraid to ask the question; he’s terrified you won’t say the right answer. “Io…what the hell are you doing here?”

You shrug, casual, teasing. “Didn’t like where I was. Thought I’d try someplace new.”

He touches your face to make sure you’re real, marveling at you, his voice going hushed. “We’ve lost so much time.”

“Don’t worry. Your life’s only half over.”

Aegon laughs, eyes shining. “I’m really, really looking forward to the rest of it.”

You can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses you; you can hear a quiet, kind melody that fills the universe, the sound of all the chains of gravity breaking and moons drifting free from their planets.

[atomicladytimetravel]

Mirror Mirror

Summary: No Outbreak AU. After an upsetting encounter with a young girl at Sephora, Joel has to show his wife just how beautiful she is. Established relationship. No physical description of the character, just that she’s female and has hair long enough to gather into a ponytail. She = You. I just wanted to try a different format. Inspired by the many Sephora brat TikToks I’ve seen and my own depraved imagination. There may be a sequel later.

Warnings: Dom!Joel, Daddy kink (slight dd/lg vibes), throat fucking, choking, fingering, squirting, oral (m and f receiving), face sitting, spanking, mirror play, unprotected sex, creampie. So…just general depravity. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Word count: 3,692

This has been edited. I realized I missed a whole chunk of text 😩

“Joel, have you been using my good shampoo? I just bought this bottle and I’m almost out.”

Joel Miller’s wife appears behind where he’s sitting on the couch, shampoo bottle in hand. She walks around to stand in front of him, brandishing the mostly empty bottle.

“Oh…yeah,” he admits sheepishly. “I like the way it makes my hair look.”

“No wonder you’ve been extra irresistible lately,” she giggles, tousling his very soft hair. “I’m gonna make a run to Sephora to get more. I’ll just get a bigger bottle.”

She grabs her purse, gives Joel a swift kiss and makes her way out the door.

When she enters the store, she heads straight for the shampoo. She picks out the biggest bottle of Living Proof Perfect Hair Day they carry and starts to walk towards the checkout counter. She passes a Drunk Elephant display and notices that exactly one bottle of the coveted drops is available. She’s been wanting to try them and decides to grab one while it’s there. She reaches for the bottle, and her hand is about to close around it when another slightly smaller hand snatches it.

“Ha! Got it!”

She turns to see a girl who could’ve been no more than twelve holding the drops with a triumphant and smug grin.

“Wow, uh, okay. I was gonna buy that.”

“Looks like you’re not now,” the girl says. Before she struts away, she turns back and says: “By the way…no amount of makeup in this store is going to fix the ugly on your face.”

She’s taken aback by the girl’s unsolicited insult. She waits to see if the girl meets back up with a parent (or adult of any kind) but she doesn’t - she buys the Drunk Elephant drops and exits the store alone.

“Jesus, kids just do whatever the fuck they want now I guess,” she thinks to herself. She buys her shampoo and thinks about the interaction for the entire twenty minute drive back home.

Upon her arrival home, she kicks off her shoes in the foyer and makes a beeline for the bedroom.

“I’m just gonna put this away, I’ll be right back,” she tells Joel. She does put the shampoo away, but she can’t help but hold onto what the girl at Sephora said to her. Before meeting Joel, her confidence level was near zero. He spent a lot of time convincing her that she’s beautiful, but this little girl obviously saw something Joel doesn’t.

She stands in front of the beautiful antique mirror Joel had gotten her as an anniversary gift after she fawned over it at an antique store. She picks herself apart in the full length mirror, pinching skin between her fingers and looking for any sign of aging, no matter how subtle. The longer she looks, the more she hates what she sees. Her nose isn’t right, her skin isn’t clear enough, her pores are way too fucking big. Her bottom lip trembles and tears spill from her eyes. Defeated, she shuffles to the bed where she buries her face into a pillow to stifle her sobs. This is how Joel finds her. He rushes to her side, kneeling beside the bed and rubbing her back soothingly.

“Whoa, hey…what’s wrong love?”

She tearfully recounts what happened to her at Sephora and Joel’s face turns stoney. All the work he’s done to make her love herself, to see herself the way he does was all undone in an instant - and over a fucking bottle of overpriced skincare.

“It sounds like you’ve forgotten everything daddy taught you, huh little one? Maybe you need a reminder.”

She sits up on her elbow and looks at him incredulously through her tears.

“Does it really look like I want to fuck right now Joel? How can you even want to fuck me anyway? Look at me!”

“I always want you baby girl. Always,” he replies earnestly. Then, he lowers his voice and his tone becomes dominant. “And now, you’re gonna be a good girl and let daddy show you. Right?”

She can’t deny him when he speaks to her this way. His dominant affection for her never fails to get her going. She sits up fully and wipes her tears.

“Yes daddy,” she responds. He gets to his feet and takes her hand in his, leading her around to the foot of the bed. He stands her in front of the mirror and, standing behind her, slowly begins to undress her. He starts with her top, placing his hands at her sides and pushing the fabric up her body. She raises her arms so that he can pull the top off and he discards it somewhere to the side.

Next is her bra, and he makes light work of unclasping it. The straps fall off her shoulders and she lets the bra slide to the floor. He cups her breasts in his large hands, kneading them and pulling gently on her nipples. She moans softly, arousal overriding the self pity she’d been feeling. Joel’s eyes meet hers in their reflection and the look of pure adoration and love on his face makes her feel silly for her insecurities.

“Look how fuckin’ gorgeous my wife is,” he tells her, his lips right next to her ear. He kisses just below her earlobe and she tips her head to the side to allow him to nuzzle her neck. She shivers as he sucks her skin, leaving red splotches behind that will surely be purple later.

He hooks his forefingers into the waistband of her leggings (and, simultaneously, her panties) and drags them down around her feet. She steps out of them, kicking them away with the toe of one foot. He straightens up and admires her naked figure in the reflection.

“You see this body, hmm? I love this body.”

He brushes his fingertips up the curves of her hips and the sensation elicits another soft moan from her. He takes her jaw in his hand and turns her head for a kiss, his other hand dipping between her legs teasingly.

“Mm, wet already? And I’ve barely touched you,” he muses. He walks the two of them backwards until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. He sits and scoots back far enough to give her room to situate herself between his legs.

“I want you to watch yourself in the mirror while I play with your pretty pussy, okay?” he instructs. “I want you to see what I see.”

He rests his chin on her shoulder and she meets his eyes in the mirror.

“Look at yourself, not at me.”

Her eyes, which are still puffy from crying, shift back to her own reflection.

“Now, say ‘I’m a pretty girl.’”

She hesitates and he smacks one of her breasts. The action catches her off guard and she gasps, but an unmistakable pang of arousal follows the stinging and she whimpers quietly.

“Say it,” he commands harshly in her ear and this time, she obeys.

“I’m a pretty girl.”

“There’s a good girl,” he praises, now massaging the breast he’s just smacked. Soft, sensual kisses are pressed to her neck as his free hand squeezes the flesh of her inner thigh. “Spread your legs for me now.”

She opens her legs and he begins rubbing her clit slowly, teasingly. Her eyes flutter as pleasure takes over and he whispers a reminder to keep them open in her ear. She lets her eyes focus on her reflection and, to her immense surprise, she kind of likes what she sees. Her mouth is parted to let her breathy moans escape and her pupils are lust blown. Her eyes flit to where Joel is rubbing circles on her clit; his hands are beautiful and watching his long middle finger trace the sensitive bundle of nerves makes her eyes roll back.

“That is actually so hot,” she moans. He grins satisfactorily.

“I know it baby. Got me hard as a rock back here.”

He slides his finger into her slowly and she begs him for another. She attempts to watch as he fingers her in earnest, but her eyes eventually slip closed. It’s hard to keep her focus on the mirror when he’s making her feel so good.

“Keep those eyes open,” he warns. “Don’t wanna miss the best part.”

“S-sorry daddy. It just feels so good.”

“Mm, I can tell. You’re fuckin’ soaked.” He curls his fingers and hits that spot inside her that would’ve made her eyes fly open if they weren’t already glued to the mirror.

“Oh fuck,” she swears breathily. “Please keep going like that.”

He can see on her face that she’s almost at her peak. He brings his other hand to her throat and gives it a light squeeze. She likes how she looks with his hand around her neck and his fingers inside her. It makes her cunt throb that much more.

“Oh god…daddy I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

“Got no intentions on stoppin’,” he says in her ear before nibbling on her earlobe. She feels the pressure building and with just a few more curls of his fingers, the coil snaps.

“Fuck!” she shouts. “I’m cumming…oh my god!”

He removes his fingers and a spray of fluid comes out of her. She squirts so hard that it hits the mirror. Her eyes roll back in spite of the effort she’s putting in to keep them open and her mouth opens in a silent scream. Joel rubs her clit furiously and doesn’t stop until she clamps her thighs around his hand.

“Jesus Christ baby, I love it when you do that,” he tells her before pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. “Did you see how pretty you look when you cum for me?”

She had, briefly. And she had to admit, it was pretty hot.

“Yes daddy,” she answers. She’s a little sheepish as she admits: “I kinda liked it.”

He chuckles at this.

“As you should baby girl.”

He kisses her and she reaches her hand behind her to squeeze the bulge in his sweatpants. He groans and she squeezes him just a little harder.

“Fuck, get on your knees for me,” he says. The two of them shuffle off the bed and she drops to her knees in front of him. He rids himself of his t-shirt and she yanks his sweats down. He’d forgone underwear and his cock springs free when the sweatpants go past his waist. He gathers her hair into a makeshift ponytail in his hand while she teases the tip of his cock. She drags her tongue along the vein that runs on the underside of his shaft and he hisses.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me woman.”

She smirks, looking up at him and batting her lashes.

“Sorry daddy,” she giggles.

“Don’t let your newfound confidence get ya a punishment, princess,” he warns. Heeding this warning, she wraps her lips around the tip of his cock and takes him in until her nose touches skin.

“Ohhhh yeeeah,” he sighs, gripping her hair just a little tighter. “Love that mouth baby.”

She bobs her head back and forth a few times, pushing him a bit deeper down her throat each time. She gags just a little when he starts fucking her throat, but she’s able to recover.

“God, fuck yeah, swallow my cock baby. You’re so good at this.”

He thrusts forward a few more times before tugging on her hair and making her look up at him.

“What are you?” he demands.

“I’m a pretty girl,” she gasps, voice horse from having his cock in her throat. He taps her lips with his tip and she opens obediently, allowing him to continue fucking her throat. Tears spill down her cheeks as she gags.

“That’s right; and whose pretty girl are you?”

He takes his cock out of her mouth long enough for her to answer, “Yours sir!” before shoving it back in.

“God damn right. Good girl,” he praises as he continues to fuck her face. The ache between her legs becomes too much to bear and she slides a hand between them to play with her clit. Joel doesn’t miss this and he moans at the sight.

“You like getting your throat fucked, huh baby girl?”

She manages to make a sound akin to “uh-huh” and he chuckles through his nose.

“My good fuckin’ slut.”

She gasps for air when he pulls his cock out of her mouth, drool connecting her lips to his tip. He runs his thumb across her puffy bottom lip and smiles at her affectionately.

“Fuck baby, that’s a stunnin’ sight: red swollen lips and tears runnin’ down that pretty face,” he compliments. He bends down and kisses her roughly before helping her to her feet.

“I want you to come sit on my face,” he tells her. This is his favorite position to eat her out in and he insists on giving her multiple orgasms before even considering giving her (or himself) a breather. Not that she’s complaining.

“Don’t you dare hover,” he reminds her as he lies flat on the mattress. She straddles his face and lowers herself onto his outstretched tongue. He wraps his arms around the tops of her thighs, holding her in place as he flicks his tongue over her clit.

“That feels so fucking good,” she moans. Joel’s eyes are glued to her face in anticipation of the moment she falls apart. That moment is going to come sooner rather than later; it only takes about a minute of him swirling his tongue around her clit to make her cum. He doesn’t stop there, cleaning up one orgasm and reveling in the taste while simultaneously leading her to another. He laps at her pussy while she unashamedly rides his face, chasing her next orgasm.

“Oh my g - fuck, please I’m cumming again!”

He moans into her pussy and reaches a hand down to wrap around his cock. He’s so hard he can’t stand it any longer. He strokes himself as she writhes above him, being anything but quiet. She falls forward and grips the headboard to steady herself. Joel sucks on her now swollen clit relentlessly and she orgasms again. He feels an immense satisfaction as she ruts against his face, babbling about how she can’t stop cumming. After three consecutive orgasms, she feels that familiar pressure building and she knows she’s about to soak him down.

“G-gonna squirt,” she manages to warn him. She lifts off his face in enough time to not completely waterboard him with the spray coming out of her. She shouts profanities, her thighs trembling, and she hears the telltale signs of him jacking off furiously.

“God damn princess, you are so fuckin’ sexy,” he compliments through gritted teeth. She collapses onto her back with her legs squeezed together, trying to catch her breath and recover from the intensity of the last several orgasms.

“Are you good?” he asks, panting a bit himself.

“Yeah, I just need a few seconds,” she replies breathlessly. He sits up and rubs her leg soothingly as she recovers. When she’s ready, she relaxes her legs and lets them fall open. He settles between them on his knees and rubs her pussy with the tip of his cock. Her hips jolt upward, clit still sensitive. He does this a few times until she’s rubbing herself on him in desperation.

“Please put it in daddy, I need to feel you inside me,” she whines. He’s as desperate as she is and he fulfills her request without hesitation.

“Fuck baby girl, you’re soakin’ wet. My cock went in so easy. S-so good, so tight, fuck,” he babbles. She loves how vocal he is and it gives her a confidence boost to hear him whimpering because of her pussy.

“You feel how fuckin’ hard I am inside this little cunt baby doll?”

“God yes, you’re stretching me out so good.”

“That’s what you do to me - make me so hard it hurts. Why do you think I’m always pawin’ at ya, huh?”

The way he’s snapping his hips into her renders her unable to answer. All she can provide are pathetic moans, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She registers a smack across one of her breasts; the sting is delicious but the smack is still enough to get her attention.

“Answer,” he growls.

“Be-because…I - oh fuck - cause I’m a pretty girl,” she manages to answer.

“Atta girl. My beautiful…sexy…fuckin’…bombshell.”

He punctuates each word with a snap of his hips and she cries out each time. He fucks her harder and harder and she knows he’s determined to make her squirt again. She holds her legs back so he can go deeper and he leans in for a sloppy kiss.

“C’mon sugar, squirt all over me. Gimme that fuckin’ cum,” he says into her ear, his voice low and gravelly.

“Now, gonna cum now,” she pants in warning. He pulls out and she explodes, fluid coming out of her like a fountain and splashing against his chest. He rubs her clit with four fingers to prolong her orgasm while she writhes and shouts underneath him.

“Oh yeeeahh” he grits out when a few more spurts of fluid come forth. “Gimme all you got baby girl. Such a pretty little mess for me.”

When her hips still, he spreads her legs open once more and stuffs his cock back inside, going at it full force. He holds her under the crooks of her legs and grunts wildly as he chases his orgasm.

“You ready for my load baby? Daddy’s gonna fill this sweet little pussy so full.”

“Oh god yes, please fill me up daddy! Wanna be so full of you.”

“Oh fuck, here it comes. You’re makin’ me cum so hard,” he moans. He stills and shoots his load inside of her, groaning and rubbing her swollen clit with his thumb. She feels his cock pumping ropes of cum into her and his orgasm lasts for what seems like thirty seconds. When he pulls out, she doesn’t fail to notice he’s still hard. He flips her over on her stomach and pulls her hips back toward him.

“You see baby?” he says as he slides his cock back into her. “I’m still so fuckin’ hard. You make me crazy.”

He gathers her wrists behind her back in one hand and smacks her ass repeatedly with the other. All she can do is whine and whimper while he pounds into her relentlessly.

“Fuck yeah, take this cock. Daddy’s pretty slut,” he mumbles. He reaches forward and grabs a fistful of her hair, pulling slightly as he fucks into her forcefully.

“Who’s it for baby, huh? Who does this little pussy belong to?”

“Y-you daddy, belongs to you.”

“Damn right darlin’.”

Her hands grip the sheets beneath her hard enough to pull them off the corner of the mattress as he brings her to yet another orgasm. She’s lost count of the orgasms at this point.

“Look at how fuckin’ good we look baby,” he grunts, directing her attention to the mirror once more. She looks at their reflection and the sight is erotic. Joel’s body is flush, sweat droplets forming at his hairline. One hand is in her hair, the other gripping her hip. Her breasts bounce with each of his thrusts forward and both of their eyes are wild with lust.

“Oh fuck…so hot,” she moans.

“Yeah? Does my pretty wife like watching herself take daddy’s cock?”

“Yes sir!”

“And you take it so well, too. God, you’re so pretty with me inside.”

“D-daddy,” she whimpers. “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Nu-uh baby, wait for me this time.”

“Daddyyyy,” she whines.

“Don’t you cum until I say so,” he growls. As he chases his orgasm, his thrusts speed up and make it almost impossible for her to obey him.

“Look at me,” he commands. She lifts her eyes and meets his in the mirror and it’s all she can do not to cum right then.

“Please daddy, please! I need to cum, fuck, please!” she begs.

“I know baby, I know. Doin’ so good for me. Just a little longer, you can do it.”

He lets go of her hair and grips both hips so that he can pull her back to meet his thrusts. He can’t stop watching his gorgeous fucking wife take his cock in the mirror. She’s biting her bottom lip, her expression a mixture of pleasure and concentration as she attempts to stave off the orgasm she so desperately wants to have. His cock twitches inside her and she knows that he’s close.

“Cum for daddy now baby. Oh god, let me see you cum.”

She relaxes and lets the coil snap. Her vision goes white as her eyes roll back. She cries out and she hears Joel saying filthy things while he pumps her full of cum again.

“Yeah, that’s right, take this cum. My little cum slut. Fuck, I’m cumming so much.”

When both their orgasms subsided, he pulls out gingerly, his cock sensitive and spent. Her pussy is the same, red and puffy and still throbbing. They both fall onto the mattress, breathing heavily. She flips so that she’s facing him and gives him a soft smile.

“Thank you,” she says. He returns her smile and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“For the confidence boost or the dick?” he jokes. She giggles.

“Both.”

“You always have been, always will be, the most breathtaking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he tells her sincerely. He places his hand on her cheek and kisses her sweetly. “The only thing I can think of that would make you even more beautiful is if you’d let me put a baby in here.”

He pats her stomach and looks at her hopefully. Her face breaks out into a grin.

“You wanna have a baby with me, huh?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“It’s settled then,” she says, snuggling into him. “We’ll try for a baby.”

[chleem]

Flashing Lights #7

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A-class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter6 | index | chapter8

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Mid-June 2024

“I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

“This is!” You yell, forcing your tears into your eyes as you stare at Hugh. “The world is ending tomorrow. I… I’m gonna be with my brother soon. I’m happy, but I want to live…for you.”

Hugh shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes as well. “No, I’m not saying goodbye to you. We’re going to go on, live our lives-“

“Stop pushing the problem away, Jack-“

“I want to! Because I can’t say goodbye to you, I love you,” Hugh confesses, and you suck in a breath, the tears flowing down. “I love you, Sam. And…it hurts that I can’t grow old with you…”

You cry even more, before dropping to the ground, your sobs filling the silence of the set. You don’t look at Hugh, knowing he’s a great actor and will respond to your improv in exactly the right way; he always does.

You feel his presence before he reaches you—gently wrapping his arms around you.

You let your face fall into his chest, as his hand gently rubs your hair, soothing you.

“Cut!”

Hugh pulls away from you, getting up. He helps you up, and you thank him while rubbing your tears away. 

“That was great,” he compliments you, a smile on his lips. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, as the staff comes and fixes your makeup. 

Director Ravens yells through his megaphone, “Great scene, take five!”

The staff follows you as you walk to your seat, and freeze.

Drew, already sitting in it. You didn't expect him to be at your set, since he was probably on his own schedule. But he’s here, and he seems to be in a good mood. 

You watch as he pulls a random chair over, tapping it. “Hey.”

You glance at the makeup staff, and she goes away. You sit down besides Drew, staring ahead. “You sat here all morning?”

“Just a while. The view’s great,” he says, and you feel his eyes on the side of your face. 

You lean back into your chair, staring at the Greece ocean view. It was beautiful, but you didn’t want to agree with him. Not after what he did this morning. “It’s fucking boring.”

“I don’t know…Hugh Jackman’s a pretty good view.”

You snort at his lame comment, turning and meeting his eyes. Wow. You don’t think you could ever get used to how annoyingly blue his eyes are. “Why are you here?”

“Goldfish memory?” He teases, a corner of his lips curling up.

“I don’t remember unimportant things,” you talk back, an annoyed frown on your face. “And can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Until today. You wrap up today.”

“Who told you?”

“Stop asking the obvious, y/n,” Drew answers, but no hint of annoyance in is voice. “And y’know why I’m here. We got a date, remember?”

Right. Your afternoon was reserved for Drew, which the company told you was going to be a date around the Greece streets. It’s your little ‘getaway’ as a couple, enjoying time away from the press. But, the company planted the information to some fan-cites/media, to make sure the world knew you were on a vacation with Drew, indicating things were serious. It sounds stupid, but that’s the main goal of a PR stunt, to gain more publicity. 

Gosh. Drew’s face pisses you off. Even more, now that you’re fully sober. 

You finished the bottles of wine in the hotel room last night, and for some reason, the hotel refuses to send more into your room. Plus, cigarettes that you left on the table are gone. 

You fully suspect that Drew took your cigarettes. As for the wine? What kind of hotel refuses to send wine upstairs to VIP guests? 

You were on edge this whole morning, even considering to cancel this shoot. But Laura persuaded you to do it, and that she was on her way to buy a pack for you. But after two hours, she’s still not here and instead, Drew’s here.

Drew’s warm hand places itself on your knee, and only then have you noticed that you’ve been bouncing your legs due to anxiousness. “You okay?”

“You took away my shit,” you confront him. It was like a switch was turned on inside of you, and the semi-sweet y/n was gone. Now, it was short-tempered y/n. All because his face now reminded you of how sober you are right now. 

“No idea what you’re saying,” he denies, the corner of his lips still up. You furrow your eyebrows, and he wipes the smirk off with another hand. “I don’t have your shit.”

You sit up, startling him to remove his hand away from you. “You do! Give it to me, I need it.”

“You don’t need it, y/n,” Drew glances around to make sure no one’s listening. “You’re doing perfectly fine right now-“

“I’m not. I’m freaking out here,” you confess, which was weird, because you don’t say that to Drew. But now, you were focused on getting even just one smoke; you wanted, no, needed your cigarettes back. “I’m much better with it, just give me-“

“No, y/n,” Drew says, his tone more serious now. “You survived a morning without a smoke, or a drop of alcohol. You’re fine.”

You stare into his blue eyes for a hint of lie, for his statement to be wrong. Because he is wrong, you weren't fine. You were a hundred times more anxious in front of a camera, and although Director Ravens had no comment towards your acting, you felt the worst. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want my stuff back.”

“I don’t have it,” he firmly says again. 

“You’re the only one that would do such a thing.”

“Well, I didn’t, okay?” He replies immediately, his eyes pleading for you to believe him. 

“Fuck,” you curse, looking away from him and towards the ocean.

Your leg must’ve been bouncing again, because Drew puts his hand on your leg again. You stop, looking down at his hand; you hate how it's so warm and somehow comforting.  

He’s looking down on the ground, as if thinking about something. Then, he turns to you, starting to rub circles on your knee . “Let me show you.”

You speak up after a short pause, “Show me what?”

“How much better being sober is. How much better you are without the chemicals.”

"Y/n, why are you treating yourself this way?"

You stare into his eyes, hoping to catch bullshit in them. 

But no. His eyes just show truth, determination, and comfort. 

Wow. You’ve never seen someone stare at you like that. 

Mostly empathy, jealous, hateful stares. But Drew…

Fuck. You almost forgot that he was a fucking actor. 

You want to confront him, but Director Ravens interrupts through his megaphone, informing you to go back to shooting. 

The staff comes, continuing to fix your makeup, and you get up, walking to the film set. You turn back and glance at Drew, who’s still staring at you. 

His stare causes your stomach to warm up, even if you were highly suspicious of him. 

——

True to his word, Drew shows you how much better it is when you experience the day sober. 

He takes you through town, and of course, you complained at first, claiming that old buildings were a bore. Okay. You didn’t just complain. You fought, like you always did. 

Drew had to pull you aside, out of public eye and fight back with you. Multiple times have you tried slipping off to get a smoke or a drink. But Drew was like a hawk, stopping you just in time. 

In the late afternoon, Drew took you to the local markets, and okay, maybe you had fun there. A lot of fun. 

Locals didn’t recognize the two of you, so you looked around freely. It was nice, to be in a place where not a lot of people knew who you were. You tasted the samples, buying small souvenirs, and even getting a funny art sketched of you and Drew. 

“You speak Greek?” You mumble, while your mouth was stuffed with Lokma, which you learned was a kind of Greece donut. It was so delicious, you bought a pack that was straight out of the oven, eating while walking down the sidewalk. 

The corner of his lips curl up, his eyes glancing down at you. “I can’t hear you,” he teases. 

You eventually swallow the one in your mouth, and you ask him yet again. 

“Basic words,” Drew shrugs, as you continue eating. “Is it that good?”

“Yes,” you murmur, stuffing another one into your mouth. His hand attempts to get the last one from the bag, but you slap it away. “This one’s mine.”

“You ate five already.”

“And?”

He shakes his head while smiling, before stopping at the crosswalk. It was late afternoon already, and you spent almost three hours at the local market alone. Drew didn’t complain; he even offered to hold the souvenirs you decided to buy. It was weird; one, you weren’t the type to buy souvenirs, and two, he offered to hold your stuff. 

Then again, you’re fully sober and awake due to the amount of things you’ve seen today, and Drew seemed to be in a good mood.

Now, you were going to see another market, but it was mostly selling stuff such as flowers, souvenirs, or jewelry. 

Without looking, you wanted to cross the road, but Drew quickly holds you back, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You look up at him with stuffed cheeks, and he just looks ahead. “Did you eat your eyes as well?”

You roll your eyes, reaching for the last Lokma to eat. Just as you’re about to pop it into your mouth, Drew beats you to it, snatching it away with a grin. This bitch- that was the last one! “Hey! Give it back!”

He laughs, chewing it quickly, “you’re right. This is good.”

“That was the last one!” you whine, frowning as you stare at him in disbelief.

“I thought that was for me,” he says, swallowing the last bite and looking down at you with a teasing smile. “It wasn’t?”

The audacity-

But the lights must’ve turned green, because Drew leads you to cross the road, his arm still around your shoulders. “You owe me,” you say, pushing the empty bag into his chest. 

He laughs yet again, his hand going to cover yours. You quickly pull away from his touch, and he just takes the bag and throws it into the trash can once you reach the other side. 

He keeps his arm around your shoulders the whole time you’re walking around the market. The vibrant view of the local market distracts you - locals offering different samples for you to try.

The only time Drew leaves your side is when you’re distracted by a street singer, and you sit down on the benches, being his only listener. He’s singing Kiss me by Sixpence None The Richer, the lyrics seems to pull you into the moment. You let the music wash over you, a soft smile on your lips as you listen.

Drew walks back and sits next to you a few minutes later, and you frown at him, for leaving your side. “Where were you?”

“A fan recognized me,” he says, placing the bags next to him. Oh. It sounded like something Drew would do. Heck, you’ve seen him doing fan services, and he was very kind to fans (unlike you).

You turn to back to the singer, listening. 

You and Drew sit together on the bench, listening to the man sing for a couple of more minutes. But it was so good, that you didn’t want to leave. So, you and Drew sat there for another hour, until he was finally done singing.

You clap when he’s done, and he bows to you. Drew claps as well, and you turn to him. “He’s great,” you compliment, truly impressed by his voice.

“I know. The best concert,” he gives you a soft smile. “You hungry?”

“Not really,” you say, feeling full from the snacks you had earlier. You look over your shoulder, at the setting sun. This was the first time you’ve found yourself finding sunsets beautiful. Then, you spot the beach, with a few people walking on it. “Hey, there’s a beach there.”

“You wanna go?”

You look at Drew, “yeah, that sounds great.”

——

The two of you walk side by side on the beach, you carrying your heels and Drew carrying his, along with other small bags of stuff. You don’t talk; simply enjoying the smell of the beach, the sound of the ocean, and the calm feeling. 

It was dinner time, so the crowd that was here had left, leaving the beach to just you and Drew. 

Drew doesn’t talk either; walking in silence with you. 

You haven’t been to an actual beach in so long. The last time you put your feet in the sand was since… you can’t even remember.

But that’s the thing; you can’t remember. You can’t remember anything from your childhood, except for the torturing moments spent in rehab centers, the suffocating presence of the press, and the over-enthusiastic fans. The worst moments of your life, the ones that left the deepest marks, you recall with shocking clarity. Yet the good ones? Do they even exist?

Your gaze shifts to Drew, who’s walking beside you. He’s quiet, content with the walk, his eyes focused ahead, but there’s something about the way he’s there that makes your heart tighten. You think back to the first time you met him, and a pang of confusion hits you.

How did he even get into your trailer? How did the two of you even start talking? Was it the shoot that brought you together, or something else?

The MV. You remember flashes—distant moments where you two were thrown together, the cameras capturing your every move. But the interaction itself... it's all blurry. It’s like a haze, one that’s too fogged up to see clearly.

What even happened?

That realization hits you; like a stab to your chest.

You stop walking, and you feel tears slowly forming in your eyes. 

At the same time, rain starts falling. 

And a few seconds later, it’s pouring rain. But you don’t care. You’re too into this moment; the realization that you’ve been awake for so long. 

Drew stops after a few steps, and he turns around to face you. When his eyes meet yours, the same sincerity you saw this morning, you couldn’t hold it in. The tears slowly fall, one by one.

“It’s raining-“ 

“I…I haven’t been sober for this long,” you start, your voice shaky as you say those words. You smile at Drew; the tears being covered by the pouring rain. “And…and I want to remember this moment.”

Drew walks over to you, and he drops his stuff on the sand. He stops in front of you, cupping your face as he tries to wipe the tears off your face with his thumb.

He smiles at you too; and for the first time, you don’t find his smile annoying. Instead, warmth erupts inside of you. You cry even harder. “Told you it felt nice, right?”

You chuckle, “But I’m serious. This…I went a whole day without drinking or smoking.”

He doesn’t say anything; continuing to wipe your tears away and looking deeply into your eyes. The rain gets in them; but he doesn’t care. 

“And, and I want to remember this moment. This moment that I spent with you.”

Drew stays quiet for a few seconds, before saying, “Even if you forget; I’ll remember it for you.”

Then he adds, “I’ll be reminding you, over and over, over and over again."

You laugh at his response, finding it funny, and…sweet. Which is crazy, considering it’s Drew that’s saying it. “You’re annoying,” you lie, trying to push him away.

He chuckles too, his hand still cupping your face. “But it’s true. And I’m proud of you. You did it.”

“I did do it,” you murmur, looking at his blue eyes. “Thank you,” you add. You meant it. You meant every word you said earlier. You hope he knows it too. 

And because this moment felt right, you hug him. You didn’t care how gross it felt to be hugging when your clothes are soaked. You just wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. 

He returns the hug after a reluctant pause, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

You bury yourself into him, breathing into his scent, and feeling the rain soaking into the both of you. 

You also want to remember the feeling of hugging Drew. Not just in this moment, under the pouring rain, on the warm beach, and under the sunset. No, you just want to remember Drew. Drew, and how it feels to be hugging him. 

Yeah, Drew’s warm hugs. That’s what you want to remember the most. That’s what you want to carry with you, like a secret tattoo burned deep into your memory, one that nothing can erase or alter, no matter how many times you forget everything else.

Because, in this moment, Drew’s hug is everything. And maybe that’s enough.

-------------------------------

word count: 2.8k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: GUYS i got emotional writing this shit...goddamn it. hope you enjoyed this chapter, and ignore any mistakes i made (eng isn't my first language, probs should've mentioned it before). so...seems like theyre starting to like each other???

[juliasturnz]

“You don’t have to hold me anymore”

Chris sturniolo x fem!reader

🜸 - I love this song so much, it actually pains my heart sometimes😭

★ - summary:

You and chris are having a big fight and something he said fully broke your heart.

༆ warnings:

Cussing, slight push, mad!chris, crying, use of y/n, I think that’s all!

✫彡 - writers note:

Yes I’m gonna apologize again😁, sorry for being so inactive. I didn’t have any ideas at all😔😔

“COULDNT REALLY LOVE YOU ANYMORE”

‘what the fuck Chris? Why are you making such a big problem about this?’ You can’t help but keep questioning what’s happening between you and Chris, Chris is just standing in front of you with a blank stare. Maybe even a death stare you can’t really figure that out, your head has been spinning. Nothing seems real, ‘hello fucking dumbass are you here?’ Chris snaps in your face with his long and somehow loud fingers. Fuck you have been zoning out, he isn’t even giving you a death stare.

“I DONT THINK I LOVE YOU ANYMORE”

‘God you are so stupid.’ ‘What the fuck do you want from me Chris, I don’t understand.’ ‘I don’t think I love you anymore.’ Chris seems like he has calmed down, like he needed to get this of his chest, meanwhile you’re just standing in front of him with a teardrop slowly falling down your cheek. ‘get out of my face please.’ Chris surprisingly has tears in his eyes and you could barely hear his voice, you were both hurt. ‘I was going to sleep anyway.’ you almost say whispering, another teardrop falling down from your cheek while slowly walking to Nick’s room.

“YOU DONT HAVE TO HOLD ME ANYMORE”

You walk up the stairs where you surprisingly find Matt and Nick standing there. Your hair is messed up and so is your makeup, you feel embarrassed while also wondering if they heard everything. Matt and Nick have the exact same worried look with furrowed eyebrows. You can’t help but start sobbing, ‘oh come here.’ Nick opens his arms to hug. You slowly walk up to Nick and he gives you the warm and comforting hug you needed, Matt also joined you and Nick, and softly pats your messy hair.

“YOU DONT OPEN YOUR EYES FOR A WHILE, YOU JUST BREATHE THAT MOMENT DOWN.”

Nick takes you to his room while Matt walks down to get a bottle of water.

Matts pov:

Matt quickly walks down the stairs to get a glass of water, he sees Chris sitting down in the corner of his eye with tears in his eyes while scrolling through something. Matt knows exactly what Chris is doing.

When Matt has y/n’s glass filled with water he places the glass down on the dinner table. Walk over to chris and leans against the couch. ‘Bro what did you do.’ Chris looks up from his phone scrolling through the pictures from y/n and him together. ‘Just leave me alone bro, take her if you want she doesn’t want me anymore.’ Matt furrows his eyebrows, ‘aren’t you the one that doesn’t love her anymore?’ ‘Shut up leave me alone.’ ‘Chris just go to sleep.’ ‘Whatever bro.’ Chris gives Matt a eye roll before Matt picks up the water and brings it upstairs to Nick’s room.

Matt walks into the room with my glass of water and places it down on the kind of dirty nightstand. ‘There you go, I’m so sorry about Chris.’ Matt looks at me with a worried look. ‘It’s okay.’ You give him a weak smile before you quickly drink the glass of water. Matt also crawls up Nick’s bed with you laying in the middle. ‘You wanna watch a movie?’ Nick looks at you while handing you the remote. You nod, click on netflix and skip through the movies, you find Chris’ favorite. ‘That’s his favorite.’ You look at the movie without any expression on your face, almost cold. Nick grabs the remote and puts on a random movie. ‘This is a healthier way no?’ ‘Yeah probably.’ You give nick a little smile while he side hugs you.

After a while you look over to Nick and he’s sleeping, he looks so peaceful something you need rn. On the other side of the bed you see Matt rapidly tapping on his phone. ‘Matt what are you doing?’ ‘Chris wants to talk to you.’ ‘Oh uh..’ you kind of stay quiet, you have no idea what you are supposed to say to him, Everything has been said. ‘I told him no, don’t worry, I don’t think he has the right to talk to you yet.’ ‘Mhm’ Matt looks over to you and gives you a big hug. ‘Where do you wanna sleep tn?’ ‘Can I sleep with you or? I don’t wanna disturb Nick, he has been working hard lately.’ ‘Ofcourse .’ Matt gives you a little smile.

“I BELIEVED YOU WERE CRAZY, YOU BELIEVED THAT YOU LOVE ME.”

After watching a couple more movies with Matt, you tuck Nick in with some warm blankets, and walk with Matt to his room when you find Chris still sitting on the couch looking over at you. ‘Oh so your fucking her now huh?’ ‘Dude what.’ You are just staying silent, what do I need to do? What do I need to say? ‘N-no I am not.’ ‘Ofcourse you aren’t.’ ‘For fucks sake just go to bed, stop scrolling to old pictures of you and y/n and talk to her tomorrow give her some space. Jezus.’ ‘Shut up bro.’ Chris spits at Matt with a furious looks in his eyes, but does exactly what Matt says him.

You are standing face to face with Matt looking at each other but you aren’t looking at him peacefully you are giving him a scared look, a uncomforting look. ‘I- I’m scared idk what to do anymore.’ ‘You are going to be alright. I promise.’ Matt guides you to his bedroom. ‘Do what you need to do, I’m in my room prob watching something on Graffiti falls.’ ‘I think I’m going to take a shower, is that okay?’ ‘Oh for sure, let me get you some towels.’ Matt walks out of his room grabs some towels next to his bathroom and hands you the still warm and soft towels. ‘Thank you.’ ‘Ofcourse.’ He walks to his room and falls on the just made bed. You look into the room before going into the bathroom and give him a little smile. And lipsync ‘thank you.’ Matt gives you a warm smile before turning on his tv.

You turn on the shower, a little above the temperature you normally do. Hopefully the burning shower would hide the thoughts in your head that have been non stop playing in your head. You wash your messy hair and you take of your makeup.

half hour later 11:45 PM

You walk out of the shower with fresh hair and a clean face, but Chris is standing in front of you. ‘Um hello?’ You furrow your eyebrows, ‘um hello?’ Chris mocks you. ‘What do you want, I wanna go to fucking sleep.’ ‘nothing I just hope you have fun fucking my brother.’ Chris’ face is cold, not a single expression on his face. ‘I’m not fuck off, your just jealous.’ You turn around and before you could open the door Matt has paused his serie and stands in the doorway. ‘Chris go to fucking bed.’ You’ve never seen Matt this pissed, it’s lowkey scaring you. Chris pushes Matt, this never happens what is happening? You are scared, you don’t know what to do. ‘Your a fucking dumbass Chris, you were lucky with her. Why the fuck do you ruin that?’ Chris is quiet, tears coming up in his eyes, ‘.. I - idk.’ Chris covers his eyes and walk away.

Nick is coming down the stairs standing there in shock, ‘what the actual fuck happened here?’ His voice is raspy, definitely woke up bc of the fight. You kind of run to Nick, you don’t know what else to do. ‘They got into a fight. I don’t know why.’ ‘Oh for fucks sake, let me handle this. Chris come here.’ Chris was going to walk by but Nick stops him with laying his hand on his shoulder and giving him a slight push. ‘Come here crybaby.’ ‘Fuck you.’ His voice is shaky, it makes you wanna give him a hug but that’s probably the last thing he wants from you right now. ‘Yeah whatever come.’ Nick takes Chris to Matt and takes them into Matt’s room.

You walk to the living room, still in complete shock but you turn on the tv to silent the arguing you hear coming from Matt’s room. You hear so many different things a mix from yelling, cussing and crying, your nightmare came to life.

A little while later they all come out of the room, Chris walks up to you. Falling down on the couch next to you, very close to you. ‘I-Im sorry I do love you I- i really do, I just.’ ‘Oh shut up Chris.’ You don’t let him talk what you feel bad about but you kiss his beautiful lips, the kiss was the thing you needed all along. His hands slightly on your waist, your hands in his hair. Everything seemed perfect.

‘Well you guys made up I see,’ you totally forgot that Matt and Nick were standing in front of y’all, but you couldn’t give a fuck. Things were okay again. You break the kiss look over to them and give them a hug. You whisper in their ears a thank you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I couldn’t help making this a good end🥹

if you want to be tagged comment down!♥️ hope you enjoyed this, leave down a like if you like to see more from me stay save 💞.

Tags:

@042502 @chrisslut333 @chrissslut @chriscamopants @chris-slut @chrissv4mp @didiswrld12 @slutz4sturniolos @hollandsangel @hoeformatt @h3arts4harry @heartmatt @mattsfavbitchhh @mattstattos @mattslittleprincess @mattsturnswife @mattsgf @sturnioloshacker @monroesturnns @sturnslesbo @sturniolonmc @sturnioz @sturnzsblog @sturnsblunt @sturnsbaby @sturnslcver @sturnsdoll

[cheolhub]

IM STUPID i thought you meant we can send in a max of three number and member pairings for you to choose from for ur milestone event 🧍‍��️pls ignore my first ask (ONLY IF U HAVENT GOTTEN TO IT YET AJDJSK)

can i have “Could he make you feel as good as i do?” + “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” For gyugyu 🥺 i still haven't recovered from the oneshot you posted yesterday 🧍‍♀️

FWB!MINGYU

prompt. “could he make you feel as good as i do?” + “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

wc. 915

warnings. fwb!gyu, fem!reader, mirror sex, jealousy, possessiveness, gyu is a bit rough, dirty talk, pet names, cumshot, tears, kinda angsty? — MINORS DNI 18+

note. god u sent this the first week of march for my THREE KAY event… now im at 4k, and i am so sorry 🤣 anyway this wasn’t proofread and it’s literally a mess, but i hope u like it anyway ;-; thank u sm for requesting (even if it did take me 8 years to get to haha)

“would you look at that?” mingyu laughs against your ear. “might wanna redo your makeup once i’m done, baby, you’ve cried it all off.”

he’s not wrong. when you open your eyes and take in the sight in front of you and nearly choke on a sob. you’re a mess– smeared eyeliner, mascara staining your cheeks and lipstick smudged around your mouth– no longer ready for your date. the one that starts 15 minutes from now. 

when you’d told mingyu– a friend who you occasionally frequently fuck– you were ready to start dating again, he thought you were bluffing. how could you want to date anyone else when he was right in front of you? you and him are practically dating– you go out and do couple-y things then you go back to one of your places and you fuck– you just lack the label. 

and that’s because both of you needed something sexual, but neither of you were ready for a relationship.

now that you are– now that you’re going on a date with some fucker who probably doesn’t even deserve you– he’s upset. beyond upset, actually. he’s livid. 

that’s why he bent you over your bathroom’s vanity, pushed your dress up and makeup products to the ground and thought to prove himself to you.

now his hand tugs at your hair, essentially forcing you to stare at yourself while he reduces you to a mess like he does every time his cock is inside of you. 

“mmh, could he make you feel as good as i do, huh? you think he knows how to make this pretty pussy feel good?” the question comes through gritted teeth and it finally clicks in your dumb little brain. “i don’t fucking think so.”

“y-you’re jealous?” you’re able to ask, though it’s choked. his reply never comes, but his thrusts get harsher– merciless– and you take it as a wordless admission, crying out your next words, “me ‘n you are jus’ friends, g-gyu!”

he tugs at your hair harder and the other hand that resides on your waist squeezes your skin gratingly. “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” he replies, voice hushed and raw with emotion. 

you do. you know it. you and mingyu are glued at the hip both figuratively and literally. there’s no one on the earth that makes you feel a quarter of what you feel for him. and you also know there isn’t a single man who could fuck you as well as mingyu does. 

but when you told him you wanted to start dating, he brushed you off with a “yeah, right,” and it made you believe that there wasn’t a chance with him. you figured that the idea of you and mingyu being together was simply a dream that would never happen.

though, you’re not so sure anymore because he’s spewing out possessive words faster than you can comprehend while his cock stirs you up. 

what you didn’t know was that you’ve always had mingyu in the palm of your hand. he was whipped. wrapped around your finger. he doesn’t want to share you– he never has.

“he’s never gonna make you feel this good,” he confidently states. “you’re made for me.” 

“fuck!” you cry, tightening around his cock at the affirmation. “mingyu, please!”

“that’s it, pretty, say my fuckin’ name.” he moans, sloppily thrusting into you as his mind runs away from him. “look at me and tell me how much you like it.”

your eyes nearly cross as they try to find him in the mirror, but when they land on his, you feel yourself grow even hotter. “love it. i love it, gyu.”

he smiles triumphantly like he’s won the lottery. he’s sure that this is better, though. you? admitting to the fact that you love the way he fucks you? fucking priceless. 

“yeah? you love my cock?” he asks, cockily, yet he knows the answer. 

you give him a broken nod, “so much!”

“why don’t you cum for me, baby. cum all over this cock ‘n show me how much you love it.” he coaxes breathily, continuing to fuck you into oblivion. 

you can’t stop yourself as soon as you hear his request. the tight coil in the pit of your tummy comes undone as you sob out his name. you trap his twitching cock between his spasming cunt all the while he fucks you through your blinding orgasm. every second feels more euphoric than the last, more tears running down your face at the pleasure. 

mingyu isn’t far behind you with the way you grip him so heavenly. he’s quickly pulling out, the hand in your hair coming to wrap around his cock. you whine at the loss of his warmth, but you’re pleasantly surprised when you hear the lewd noise of his hand vigorously pumping himself and the sounds of his pretty groans. 

he lets out a string of curses, hand moving quicker before his body jerks and his ribbons of his cum spurt out. some of it lands on your bare ass, but the majority ends up on your date outfit. he can’t help but smile at the fact that he’s ruined your pretty outfit. one meant for someone who isn’t him. 

“actually, i think you should cancel your date.” he pants. “ be sure to tell him that you’re taken now.”

he watches the way you nod and he can’t help but feel proud of himself. you’re his and he’s yours. 

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[bettysupremacy]

OH EM GEE what about sirius who absolutely loves rock music with a gf WHO LOVES TAYLOR SWIFT ans she’d be doing his makeup or something making him look like a rocker while listening to lover OR HE COMES HOME SO CONFUSED TO WHY SHES CRYING AND ITS JUST LIKE FOKLORE OR SOMETHING PLS 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

THIS IS AN ADORBS IDEA, I actually cry to folklore a lot so this request was a little too close to home. Thank you for it!! ily

“I’m home!” Sirius yells into the dark home, dropping his keys to the counter. “Lovely!”

It’s a late night. Later than most, and he feels terribly guilty for it. Held up at the studio, he comes quick with an apology. He hates getting home late, you know this. They needed re-records, they made us restart 50 times, my darling.

He cracks the bedroom door open, slowly and quietly, wary that you may be pulled under sleep already. But you’re awake. And sad.

You lay, surrounded by blankets and pillows, tears in your pretty eyes. They run down blotchy cheeks, staining the tender skin there. Your chest aches with the lyrics, rising in staggered hiccups.

“Oh, my darling,” he rushes to the bed, his bag dropping to the floor messily. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, sitting up abashed. “S’nothing.”

“I’ve walked in on you crying like you’ve seen a murder and it’s nothing?” His hands come to your face, his eyes searching for your own. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

You pause, the emotions catching up again.

“Siri.” You sob, and he fears the worst. He takes you into his arms, dread rampant through his mind.

“I’m here.” He leaves a lingering kiss to your hair.

“Would you love me if I could never give you peace?”

He reels back, your arms in his rough hands as he searches for your face. “What?”

“Would you love me if I could never give you peace?”

“What kind of question is that?” He appalls. “Of course I would, you are my peace, dovey. What’s upsetting you? You haven’t been reading those online articles again have you?”

You hiccup. “This song is just so sad.”

“Oh, oh, darling I thought you’d been hurt.” He breathes, relieved. “No family members are dead? My fans are behaving normal?”

You nod, letting him take you into his arms again.

“His faithless loves the only hoax she believes in.” Your eyes water again, the hiccups re-starting.

“Don’t do that to yourself.”

His hand works over your leg, patient with the tears that don’t seem to stop. His chest throbs with something close to this is the most adorable thing I’ve ever walked in on.

“It’s so sad.”

‘It’s just a song’ Is on the tip of his tongue, but he decided against it. He knows music, better than most. He knows the emotions it can rip from you. “Maybe we shouldn’t listen to it in a dark room, hmm?”

You sniff, letting him bring his sleeve over his thumb to wipe at the tears you blink. “Maybe.”

“I don’t like to see my girl like this.” His head shakes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, me and Taylor are about to have some words.”

You laugh, watery, watching him revel in the sweetness of it. His eyes crinkle in love.

You tune into the song playing softly in the background again.

“No other sadness in the world would do, Siri.”

“I’m gonna throw a pillow at your head, Alexa,” He snaps at your echo dot. “Stop.”

You laugh, falling back into the wet pillows. “Don’t silence her.”

He lays on top of you. “She’s depressing me.” He pauses, before adding. “I’m having Lily email her.”

“Stop.” You giggle.

[simsjayla]

jake - surprise!

part 1 (sort of)

jake - 23

jake x pregnant! reader

genre: fluff, a little angst

warnings: vomiting, pee, pregnancy, small mention of a breeding kink

to say you and jake weren’t necessarily trying for a baby would be a lie after finding out about his breeding kink, it would be hard to say that this wasn’t bound to happen at some point and now here you are, in the en-suite bathroom of yours and jake’s bedroom, pregnancy test in hand.

it all started when you woke up at 6am last week with the need to vomit. jake also woke up when he felt you move his arm from around his waist. he followed you straight to the bathroom as heard the sound of you throwing up, one hand slowly rubbing your back softly whilst the other one held your hair back in a messy ponytail. your period was a day late but you blamed it on stress. well that was until this became a recurring thing every morning.

you awoke from your daydream as the alarm went off, signalling that it was time to look at the pregnancy test you had previously peed on, your hands shook as you slowly turned the test over in your hands, your eyes immediately filled with tears as you saw a bold positive sign on the plastic stick.

what would jake say? would he be happy? would be leave you? would he be upset? angry? you were pulled out of your negative thoughts when the front door opened meaning jake was home from work. jake was at the highest in his idol career he’s ever been, with you and him only being 23 with only a couple of conversations about having kids in the coming future. you were worried, scared to the say the least.

“baby, i’m home,” jake’s sweet voice rang in your eyes but you couldn’t bring yourself to reply as tears poured from your eyes. would this be the end for you and him? “baby, where are you?” jake called out. “in the en-suite,” you managed to reply quietly, your voice cracking between words. he quickly came to the door of the en-suite. “can i come in angel?” this is it. no holding back. “yeah…”

he slowly opened the door to see your face painted with tears, your makeup slightly smudged. he came to sit next to you on the tile floor before taking you to sit in his lap. “what’s wrong my love?” he asked softly into your shoulder as he delicately kissed the revealed skin there. “i- i have something to tell you…” you said between stutters and sniffles. “you know you can tell me anything sweetest?” you nod slowly before taking a deep breath and quickly saying. “i’m pregnant,”

jake’s jaw fell wide open as his eyes lit up. he placed you back on the tile floor ever so lightly and grabbed ahold of your shaky hands. “are you sure?” you nod and passed him the positive pregnancy test. tears rolled down his cheeks as he giggled at the test. he placed it back on the counter before connecting your lips in a passionate kiss before slowly pulling away to look at you.

“why are crying darling? this is a good thing,” jake asked you, looking into your glassy eyes. “i- i was worried you wouldn’t want this yet, i mean you’re at the peak of your career.” “angel girl, this is the best news i’ve ever heard.” his eyes teared up again as he giggled sweetly and placed one of his hands on your stomach as he rubbed small circles on it. “we’re gonna have a baby together, this is amazing,”

you embraced him in a hug, both of you a sobbing mess, but this time with happy tears as the realisation that you two were going to be parents kicked in. “i love you so much angel, and our little one.” he whispered into your ear as he stroked your hair lovingly.

let’s just say you didn’t need to worry, now you know that jake is going to be the best most loving dad. this was the best surprise he’s ever had.

[rikijbol]

The moment i knew - Rin Itoshi

rin itoshi x reader, angst, established relationship, rin is a dumbass, breakup

inspire by the moment i knew -Taylor Swift

You should've been here

And I would've been so happy

“when is the party tonight?”

“uh? oh it starts at 9pm, why?” i ask Rin as i turn off the blow drier, brushing my hair as i look up at him that is changing into his soccer uniform.

Once i realise what is happening i get up and go to him with frowned eyebrows

“you’re going to practice? i thought you were gonna skip today ‘cus you had to get ready” i say with a frown as i grab his shoulder to make him turn to face me

“coach said it’s important i don’t skip since the championship’s starting soon, don’t worry i’ll make it to the party” he says giving me a kiss on my forehead as i nod, still frowning, something that Rin notices.

“Hey, i’ll be there, i swear love, i can’t miss seeing you in the dress i got you ‘kay? i love you�� rin mumbles on my lips before giving me a soft kiss.

“Okay, text me when you finish practice”

Rin nods with a small smile and leaves, his footsteps echoing in the whole house.

My eyes keep on going back to the door and then to my phone, the door then the phone, the time passes but Rin still hasn’t shown up, not even 30 minutes after it has started, not 1 hour after, and not when it had nearly finished and everyone already went back home.

People greet me, asking me how i’m doing and i just have to smile,i have to act like i don’t care that the person i care about the most still hasn’t shown up.

I look around the room searching for his dark hair, my eyes dart back to the entrance, hoping to see his teal eyes looking up at me and that lovesick smile he has on his face whenever he sees me in the dresses he bought for me.

“You good?” someone, Isagi, asks me, shaking me from the trance i was in

“Yeah, there’s so many people hahaha” i laugh awkwardly, taking a sip from my drink as i keep on looking around

“Where’s Rin, did something happen?”

i nearly choke at his words, turning around to look at him with a pained smile

“Uh no he-uhm- he’s coming, he just has something urgent to do, but he’ll make it” i say with a cracked voice, clearing my throat and turning my attention back to my friends dancing on the dance floor.

Isagi notices how stiff i look, how i’m completely absent and like i’m continuously searching for something or someone, but he doesn’t say anything; not knowing how to help he just texts Rin, asking him when he’s gonna show up, but being left with a non sent text.

Time passes and the party continues, more and more people ask where Rin is, if he is not doing well and i just have to keep on reassuring everyone that everything is fine and he just had something important that he has to do, but he is gonna come soon.

But is he? is he really gonna make it like he swore?

I try to calm down after the hundredth person asked me about my boyfriend, the corset suddenly feeling too tight, taking my breath away, the chocker i was wearing chocking me as i cough, i excuse myself and run to the bathroom, the red lipstick on my lips cracking as i bite hard on them, blood spilling out.

But i can’t see, tears threaten to fall down as i shut down my eyes, my breath becomes faster every minute that passes as my legs start giving out on me and i fall down at the end of the hall, breath and my whole body shaky, red cheecks and quivering eyes.

All the sounds are muffled, i don’t even hear Chigiri that is running behind me with Isagi and Bachira until he grabs my shoulder and i finally hear his confused voice asking me what happened.

I hold down a sob as i look at him, not being able to speak

“Yn what the fuck happened? Are you hurt?” he asks me concerned and i shake my head

“I’m fine chigiri- don’t worry i’m-“

“Is it Rin? Is it why he didn’t show up?” Isagi asks and my breath gets stuck in my throat as he speaks

“He said he’d be here” i whisper chocking on my words as tears start spilling down, my makeup getting ruined , my vision becoming foggy once again.

“That fucking dumbass” i hear bachira mumble as he shakes his head ruffling his hair, Isagi sighs and takes out his phone to check if Rin had answered, and of course he hadn’t.

Chigiri hugs me, trying to calm me down, as i cry in his chest as i keep on mumbling that he promised, he had to come.

It took us 15 minutes to calm me down, chigiri helped me adjust my makeup and hair before going to the party again, where isagi and bachira reassured people that i was gonna come back in a couple of minutes.

The party continues, even without him, even with my fake smiles, even when we got to the cake and everyone starts singing me happy birthday but i still keep on searching for his face, in vain of course, it continues even when everyone compliments me on the dress he bought me.

But i only wanted him to compliment me, i only wanted him to be the one to sing me happy birthday, i wanted him the one to be next to me during the night, not karasu, not otoya, not sae, i just wanted Rin, i wanted him to reassure me and tell me that everything was gonna be alright.

But we both knew it was not.

So i take the photos, i laugh and i party until late, i drink and i have fun, i act like he doesn’t matter, like he is just a friend that couldn’t make it.

When i get back home, later, and my phone lits up, it’s him who’s calling, and sighing i answer it.

“Hey love, i’m sorry, i didn’t make it”

My voice gets stuck again in my throat, the sinking feeling coming back

“i’m sorry too, i’m sorry i believed you” and before he gets the chance to answer i hung up, leaving his voice to linger in my thoughts, turning off my phone, as i finally let the myself cry to sleep.

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

Turning Page - Sam Kiszka

A/N: Thanks a lot @ascendingtostardust , for having the audacity to mention Sam reading his wedding vows. This isn’t super long, but it’s something. Consider it my grand return to writing, I suppose. Wedding vows written by @stardustcatcher

DISCLAIMER: I do not know what everyone’s family situations are and what have you, so I did my best to write this in a way that everyone can relate to.

WARNINGS: None. Lots of cavity inducing fluff.

MASTERLIST

•••

“You’re making me want to throw up,” Ronnie joked, attempting to lighten the heavy mood in the room.

The mood in the room was anything but bad; it was dripping in excitement. So much, in fact, that it was almost overbearing. Add some insane nerves into that? It was intense, to say the least.

A barely audible giggle was all you could offer her, staring at your reflection in the mirror and admiring the work that your makeup artist had done, along with your hair - half of it perfectly pinned up, with a few pieces left down to frame your face.

“Sam is gonna be floored when he sees you,” Ronnie grinned, running a hand over your shoulder lovingly. “Dare I say, he might even cry.”

You both giggle, before three gentle knocks broke the two of you out of the sweet moment.

“Come on in!” you called, turning towards the door.

Karen’s bright smile greeted you before she even spoke a word.

“Can I help you get into your dress, love?” She asked, glancing down at the time on her phone briefly. “I told Jake, Josh and Danny you would be down to do a first look with them soon, like you asked.”

“Thank you.” You gave her a warm smile, swallowing down the lump in your throat as your stood up to get into your dress.

The process of getting your dress on was a tedious one, the corset back proving to be the most time consuming part.

“Okay…” Karen huffed, concentration evident in her voice.

You glanced up and watched her in the mirror, only to be met with her sparkling eyes as she finished the back of your dress.

“How does it feel?” She questioned, eyeing your face carefully. She studied people much like Jake did at times; something you found so incredibly endearing.

“Perfect,” you nodded, looking over yourself in the mirror. “It’s so perfect… It’s-“ you suck in a deep breath, trying to fight back the tears forming in your eyes.

“Oh- don’t cry,” Karen begged softly, clearly choking on her own words at the sight of you.

“Yeah, please don’t,” Ronnie added. “I will start sobbing and I’m trying to hold it all in for at least one more hour.”

You all laugh amongst yourselves and share a few careful - but long, hugs.

“Are you ready?” Karen finally asked, taking your hand in her’s.

You nodded, walking with her towards the door that Ronnie was holding open for you.

“Are you sure Sam isn’t gonna try to hide in there with them?”

“No, no,” Karen answered, shaking her head frantically. “Absolutely not. Kelly has him very occupied.”

You sighed for what felt like the thousandth time, nerves unlike any you had ever felt before bubbling up inside you, as you make your way down the hallway to the room that Jake, Danny and Josh were in.

Karen went ahead of you, pulling the door open and peaking only her head in. A few muffled words were exchanged between her and who you guessed to be Danny. You weren’t entirely sure, thanks to all the zoning out your nerves were causing.

“After you,” Karen smiled, opening the door for you to walk through.

You step through the door, choking back a sob as Josh and Danny both gasp audibly. Jake’s jaw falling slack right at the same time.

“Oh… oh, my,” Josh breathed out, completely in awe of you. “Oh, my god.”

“Well, aren’t you just beautiful,” Jake was the next to speak up, voice noticeably strained.

“T-thank you,” you smiled, dropping your eyes to the floor.

When you looked back up, Danny was making his way up to you with watery eyes.

When he made it to you, he opened his arms for you and you happily walked straight into his warm embrace.

“I love you. You look absolutely stunning,” Danny’s voice wavered and a soft sniffle sounded from him. “I’ve been dying for this day since me, You and Sam all became friends. I’m so happy for you, Y/N.”

“Danny, please.” The words almost came out sounding like a whimper, his words threatening to break down the flood gates that you’d spent all day building up. “I love you so much.”

Pulling away, you turned to Jake and Josh and opened your arms up for both of them, pulling them each into a warm hug.

“I am so happy for you and Sammy boy.” Jake squeezed you in his arms. “He’s over the moon. I’ve never seen him so giddy. And he’s always giddy.”

“No kidding,” Josh joined in. “He’s been upstairs bouncing off the god damn walls.”

“Well, it won’t be much longer until he finally gets to see you,” Karen cut in, coming up behind the four of you. “You guys better get going; only half an hour until the ceremony starts.”

Jake, Josh and Danny parted ways, heading back upstairs to see Sam one more time, then head outside where everything was set up.

*

You clutched the gorgeous bouquet in your hands for dear life - hoping it would somehow keep you tethered to earth.

So many thoughts were rushing through your mind, bouncing from one side of your skull to the other and echoing around.

No, you weren’t getting cold feet; it was more like… fears of tripping and falling, stuttering over your vows, mascara running down your cheeks from the tears that were inevitably going to be shed within mere minutes.

A short instrumental piece that Jake had written and recorded on his acoustic just for the wedding, filled your ears, warming your body with an overwhelming sense of joy.

Danny and your best friend -as maid of honor and best man- were the first two to make their way down the aisle, disappearing out of your vision just as they were about to reach the end and place themselves on either side of Sam.

Josh and Ronnie followed, arm in arm, following the exact same path.

Jake and your other best friend made their way down together.

Momentarily, you thought about how well they had been getting along since the night of your first little wedding rehearsal.

‘They would be cute…’ you thought to yourself.

Finally, your ring bearer and flower girls made their way haphazardly down the aisle. A sweet sight for everyone to witness.

Suddenly, you’re being pulled from your daze as the very familiar notes of a piano fill your ears.

After not much discussion, Sam agreed to Turning Page, stating: “I want you to walk down the aisle to whatever song makes you happy.”

And that was that.

You took each step carefully, turning the corner and bringing yourself into view of your friends and family - all standing and anticipating your entrance.

But most importantly, Samuel Francis Kiszka.

Everyone else faded into the background, your vision focused solely on Sam and no one else. He was like a magnet pulling you towards him.

Your eyes scanned his body from his feet up, his tan suit fitting him flawlessly and sitting perfectly against his sunkissed skin.

The second your eyes landed on his face, you were getting close enough to see the tears that had spilled out from his eyes and the dam finally broke.

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, holding in the sob threatening to tear through your throat as best you could.

A couple of tears escaped as you reached Sam, who’s hand was shakily outstretched for you to take.

“My beautiful girl,” he cooed so quietly you barely heard it, reaching up to skillfully dab your tears away.

You took his hand and let him guide you underneath the arbor of flowers and greenery, until you were standing straight across from each other.

Sam squeezed each other your hands comfortingly, tears still visible in his eyes as his smile beamed at you.

All your nerves and fears seemed to melt away in that moment.

“Good evening, everyone!” Your officiant captured the attention of your ears, but your eyes stayed fixed of Sam - as did his.

“From this gorgeous little place, we take ourselves out of the usual routines of our daily living to witness a very special moment in the lives of Y/N  and Sam. Today they join their lives in the union of marriage.”

Somehow, your smiles widened.

“To all their guests, they are happy to share this moment with you. They have known most of you for many years. You watched them grow up, you went to school with them, or you worked with them. Because you are the ones who have supported them throughout their lives and know them so well, it is only fitting that you are the ones to share this remarkable moment with them.”

The officiant continued on, some of what he said being completely lost on you - and Sam, too, you assumed.

Only for what felt like a moment did the two of you get lost in your own world, though, before the officiant grabbed your attention.

“We come now to the words Y/N and Sam want to hear the most today…the words that take them across the threshold from being engaged to being married.”

Your heart pounded away in your chest. You swear you can feel Sam’s pounding heartbeat through his fingertips, but it was arguably just your own.

“A marriage, as most of us understand it, is a voluntary and full commitment. It is made in the deepest sense to the exclusion of all others, and it is entered into with the desire and hope that it will last for life. Before you declare your vows to one another, I would like to hear you both confirm that it is indeed your intention to be married today.”

Turning to Sam first, he was finally forced to tear his eyes away from you.

“Sam, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Y/N in marriage? If so, please answer “I do.””

You watched Sam’s adams apple move, and heard his shaky and strained voice.

Sam returned his eyes to you, flashing you that signature smile of his. “I do.”

“Y/N,”

It was your turn to force your eyes away from Sam.

“Do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Sam in marriage? If so, please answer “I do.””

“I do,” you answered, voice much louder and stronger than you’d expected it to be.

“Sam and Y/N, having heard that it is your intention to be married to each other, I now ask you to declare your marriage vows.”

The officiant turned towards you, nodding their head and giving you the go ahead.

“Sammy, I love you with every fiber of my being…with a passion that can't be expressed in words, only in kisses, glances, and years of adventure by your side. You are my every dream come true, and I can't wait to experience the rest of my life with you right beside me.” You take a deep breath, attempting to keep your composure.

“I promise to be your guiding light in the darkness, a warming comfort in the cold, and a- shoulder to lean on when life is too much to bear on your own.”

More tears filled your eyes as you finished the last of your vows., “You make me laugh, you make me think and above all, you make me happy. I vow to love you and cherish you, forever and always,” you finished, grasping at Sam’s hands tightly.

The look in Sam’s eyes was indescribable. He looked at you in a way that no romance novel or movie could never describe or replicate.

The officiant turned towards Sam, granting him the go ahead to move forward into his own vows.

Sam cleared his throat and glanced down at your joined hands for a split second.

“Before you, there were times where living felt like a curse. Only an idea of what could be, what possibilities could lie ahead of me. Then, You came. You walked into my life like a ray of light and joy. You came in and took the curse away. You showed me that humanity was not only ripe with hate and rivalry, but also friendship and unconditional love.” Sam took a step closer to you, staring so deeply into your eyes, you were almost scared he was melting holes through you.

“The holding of hands, a gentle touch, and a kiss on the cheek… Y/N, you are my world. you are my sky, my sand, my ocean…the very earth beneath my feet. To be touched by you is like being touched by god, to dance among the stars and heavens above. I promise to love you and walk with you through every adventure imaginable, for the rest of my life.”

Should you need to speak again with your own words, you wouldn’t be able to. Sam, as he so often did, had left you completely speechless.

Just out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake guiding your little ring bearer up to the officiant, who carefully took the rings with a warm smile.

“Your wedding ring is the outward and visible sign of the inward and invisible bond which already unites your two hearts in love,” the officiant said, passing Sam the ring for you first. “Sam, place this ring on Y/N’s finger and repeat after me…”

Sam took your left hand and cradled it in his, already lining up the ring with your finger eagerly. He gave the officiant a quick nod.

“I give you this ring...”

Sam quickly repeated, “I give you this ring,”

“Wear it with love and joy...”

“Wear it with love and joy,”

“As this ring has no end…”

“As this ring has no end,”

“My love is also forever…”

Sam’s face turned serious, intense passion pouring off of him in that moment that you couldn’t describe if you had tried.

“My love is also forever.”

Without missing a beat, Sam slid the ring down onto your finger, his touch lingering for a moment.

After a moment, Sam pulled away and offered his left hand to you. Then, you turned to listen to the officiant.

“Y/N, place this ring on Sam’s finger and repeat after me…”

You nodded, eyes drifting right back to Sam.

“I give you this ring…”

“I give you this ring,” you repeated.

“Wear it with love and joy…”

“Wear it with love and joy,”

“As this ring has no end…”

“As this ring has no end,”

“My love is also forever…”

“My love is also forever.” You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and pushed the ring onto Sam’s finger, just like he had done.

“May the wedding rings you exchanged today remind you always that you are surrounded by enduring love.” The officiant flashed you both a wide smile. “Everyone has advice for newlyweds.  Sam and Y/N, I offer these good wishes to you on this special day…”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you neared the end of the ceremony. Every part of your body was screaming with joy and excitement, dying to embrace Sam in a hug, a sweet kiss to seal the moment.

You almost swear you can see him visibly bouncing on his toes, unable to contain his own excitement.

“May your life together be blessed with prosperity and good health.  May you always share open and honest communication between each other.  May you respect each other’s individual talents and gifts, and give full support to each other’s professional and personal pursuits.

May you cherish the home and family you will create together.  May all the years to come be filled with moments to celebrate and renew your love.  May your love be a life-long source of excitement, contentment, affection, respect, and devotion for one another.”

Sam used his grip on your hands to tug you closer, a goofy smile pulling at the corners of his mouth that you had longed to kiss all day.

“And so, now, by the power vested in me , it is my absolute honor and delight to declare you husband and wife.” the officiant paused, glancing between the two of you.

“You may seal this declaration with a kiss.”

Gasping at the force of which Sam pulled you into him, your lips molded together with his so perfectly. Everything stopped in that moment.

There was no one else. Just you, and Sam. Finally the one you could call your husband.

Faintly, you could hear the final words of your ceremony and the loud cheers from all your friends and family that surrounded you.

“I am very pleased to present the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Francis Kiszka!”

Throwing your joined hands up in the air, Sam’s smile could have set anything within view of it ablaze - as could yours.

The two of you took off down the aisle, together this time.

But instead of going back inside the small house, Sam guided you towards the back porch.

“Sammy, what are you doing?” You giggled, not really caring in the slightest where he was leading you.

He stopped just at the bottom of the stairs, hands finding your waist. “Just wanted to have you all to myself for a minute,” he sighed. “Haven’t seen you in a million damn years.”

“I missed you all day, too.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “It was torture.”

He pulled back slightly, eyes raking over your face. “You. Are so. Beautiful,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. “My gorgeous girl.”

A deep blush immediately began to form over your cheeks. “Sammy.”

“What?” His tone was playful, eyebrows raised at you. “Why are you blushing? Should I stop flirting? Save it for later tonight…?”

The meaning behind his words and the sly smirk on his face only made your blush darken.

“Later, huh?” You inquired, trying to act cool.

“Yes, later-“ Without any warning, Sam bent down and scooped you up in his arms, laughing at the squeal that erupted from you. “-If that’s alright with you, Mrs. Kiszka?”

“Who said it had to be later?” you purred, hand coming up to rest on the side of his neck.

“Don’t tease me, doll,” Sam warned. “We have a reception to attend and besides, I think I’d rather make you wait and suffer for a few more hours.”

“You’re awful.” You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back your smile.

“Whatever you say, wifey.” Sam teased, watching the path ahead as he carried you towards the tent where your reception was being held.

You crack up into a fit of laughter. “Don’t ever say, ‘wifey’ again.”

@sammysprincess @shutupdevvie @jordie-gvf @ascendingtostardust @stardustcatcher @streamsofstardust @sarakay-gvf @belovedsamuel @gardensgatedaisy @ageofbarbarians @theweightofjake @jake-kiszkas-smirk @positivegvfthings @gretasmokerising @doodle417 @gretavanfanfics @greta-van-chaos @colorstreammind @ofburningskies @of-infinite-wonders @groovyvanfleet @joshsindigostreak @gvfpal @writingcold @cal-a-bungaa

@gretavanbitches

@juliensbakery

@gretavanfreaky

@vanfleeter

@stillstreetjoshua

@twistedmelodies

@jakes-eyebrows

[tearfallpixie]

Music of My Soul - Chapter 3: Down for the Count

Tags: @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @synthetic-wasp-570 @circle-with-me @beaker1636 @itsjustemily @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @cookiesupplier @cncohshit @faceless-mirror @nonamessblog @yournecessaryevil @black-damask1999

@lyschko666 @vinyardmauro @skulliecadaver-blog @some-daniela @latenightmusiclover @rye14-blog1 @somewhere-diamond @Shilohrosechicken @abiomens @awkwardalex @rumoured-whispers @miss570 @dominuslunae @th0ughts-pr4yers

“Chris, do you really think it's a good idea for you to perform in this state? You’re sick!” I scolded him.

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” He mumbled, as he dropped his head onto the back of the couch. I had just completed his make-up for the show and now we were just waiting for our call.

“I swear to god Christopher Cerulli.” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Baby, I’ll be fine.” He repeated, taking my hands in his and kissing the backs of them, making me blush.

“We’ll know I know you’re delirious.” I murmured.

“Today and Tomorrow and then we have two days off.” He promised.

“And I will make you rest fucker.” I scowled, sitting next to him and brushing some of his already sweaty hair from his face. As my fingers brushed his forehead I could feel the heat rolling off of him.

“I won't fight you on that. I promise.” He grinned tiredly.

“Did she just get Chris to agree to a break?” I heard Vinny whisper in shock.

“Oh hush you.” I glared at the drummer. “Chris, Cause of Death might be a little too harsh for your vocals.”

“It is really screamy, man, and you can barely talk as is.” Justin agreed with me.

“What about City Lights? It's pretty gentle. Plus we haven't played it in a while.” Ryan suggested.

“I can do that.” Chris shrugged, barely lifting his head.

“Koda, can you learn that one in a matter of an hour?” Logan asked.

“I already know it.” I giggled.

“I shouldn't be surprised.” He grinned, waving at us as he left to inform the rest of the crew.

~~~~

Like we expected people lost their shit when they heard the opening notes of City Lights playing and I even saw a few tears. We got to song six which was Another Life, and by that point we could tell Chris was struggling. He was holding the mic out to the crowd a lot and at the middle of the song he knelt down at the front of the stage and dropped his head in his hands. I could see his shoulders shaking meaning he was sobbing. I went to take a step towards him but thought better of it. He looked up and watched the crowd for a moment until the song ended.

“Guys, I’m going to need your help. I hate to do this but as you can all probably tell, I’m feeling like shit tonight. I’m going to try to sing for you as much as I can but if I hold the mic out I need you guys to fill in.” He rasped. “Can you do that for me?” There were resounding cheers from the crowd and I smiled. They loved him so much they didn't care if they had to sing.

“You all are amazing.” He said. The notes for Devils Night started playing and he managed through it but on Reincarnate I saw him start swaying halfway through so I moved to his side. He gratefully threw an arm over my shoulder and finished the song clinging to me. “Koda, I can't-” He mumbled, unable to finish his sentence so I just nodded and I took the mic from him.

“Guys, I’m sorry to cut the concert short but I don't think Chrissy’s gonna make it through another song. I hope you understand.”

“Get better Chris!” Came from the crowd and he smiled. Matt came to take my guitar and Justin and Ryan came to help Chris to the green room. They laid him down on the couch while I got a hot rag for his forehead. I crouched down next to him and brushed his hair away from his face.

“Are you ok sweetheart?” I murmured.

“No. I feel like shit.” He whined.

“Get some rest then. I’ll wake you when it's time to go to the bus.” He nodded slowly and his eyes fluttered shut. The rest of us got cleaned up and showered to get all the paint and makeup off. We also made sure to take our time so that Chris could sleep as much as possible.

“Koda, I got that medicine you requested.” Matt said, stepping into the greenroom.

“You are amazing. Three bottles?” I asked and he nodded.

“Why so many?”

“Incase any of us catch it from him.” I explained, cracking the seal on the bottle and pouring some of the liquid into the medicine cup. “Hey Chrissy. Can you wake up for me?” He blearily sat up and blinked open his eyes. “I got meds. Can you drink this for me?” He took the little cup and downed the liquid before making a face.

“Ew.” He grumbled.

“I know. But I have a drink for you.” I handed him a coke that I had just opened and he took a sip.

“Thank you.” He murmured.

“No problem but you are not performing tomorrow.”

“But-”

“No. You couldn’t get through tonight's performance. We’ve already informed management.” I scolded him. He pouted like a wounded puppy but I didn't relent. “It’s final.”

“Wow. Chris replaced Ricky with female Ricky.” Ryan laughed.

“Now, lets get you back to the bus so that you can sleep more.” He grumbled some more but stood to his feet and took my hand. I didn't say anything and just led him to the bus. After helping him into his bunk I went to the front with everyone else.

“He really likes you.” Logan mused.

“I don't know what you are talking about.” I mumbled, shaking my head.

“If any of us tried to drag him off stage or stop a performance he would hiss a fit. He asked you to help him.” Justin told me. “The only other person who could pull that off is Ricky.”

“I’m not doing anything different. I’m just taking care of him!” I protested, trying to end the conversation but picking up my computer.

“Maybe, maybe not. But he listens to you. That means more than you know.”