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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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WGM episode 8 | dk

episode 8: amusement park

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: seokmin x reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 4.8k~ Warnings/note: fluff, fake marriage, and real feelings. cursing, seokmin curses a lot in his head.

summary: WE GOT MARRIED is back. Seokmin and Y/N pairs up to shoot 10 episodes for a special. Turns out, there are more things happenings off-camera than what meets the eye.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @ateez-atiny380 , @aeerio . @vernons-wifey12 , @odevote118 , @btskzfav , @codeinebelle , @syluslittlecrows , @minghaofied , @ikbennatas , @armycarat2612 , @smiileflower

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[Opening sequence: Highlights from Episode 7, focusing on their intimate photoshoot moments and the surprise cheek kiss]

Narrator: "After showing their sweet side to the world in their magazine feature, our favorite couple is heading out for a day of fun and thrills at the amusement park!"

---

Seokmin arrived at the designated meeting spot outside Lotte World twenty minutes early, as had become his habit whenever he was meeting Y/N. He blamed it on professional courtesy, but the members had taken to calling it his "pre-Y/N panic time"—a chance for him to get his nerves under control before the cameras started rolling.

Not that it ever worked. Seven episodes in, and his heart still did that ridiculous flutter when he saw her approaching.

The magazine photoshoot from last week had complicated things further. The physical closeness, the staged intimacy that hadn't felt staged at all, the surprise cheek kiss that he could still feel tingling on his skin days later—it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain the mental barrier between reality and the show.

And now they were going to an amusement park. A classic date location straight out of every K-drama ever made. Seokmin had a sneaking suspicion the PD was working through a romance cliché checklist at this point.

"You're thinking too loud again," came Y/N's voice, startling him out of his thoughts.

Seokmin turned to find her standing beside him, looking casual and pretty in jeans, a light sweater, and a baseball cap—a far cry from the glamorous styling of their photoshoot, but somehow even more appealing for its naturalness.

"I wasn't thinking," Seokmin defended automatically. "I was... strategizing."

"Strategizing what? Optimal cotton candy consumption techniques?" Y/N teased.

"Exactly that," Seokmin agreed with mock seriousness. "It's all about the fluffy-to-sugar ratio. Very scientific."

Y/N laughed, the sound still doing dangerous things to his cardiac rhythm even after all this time. "Well, I'm glad one of us is prepared."

The production crew approached, cameras already rolling to capture their meeting. The PD handed them each a small envelope.

"Today's mission is simple," the PD explained. "Enjoy a day at the amusement park together! But there's a twist—in these envelopes are three challenges you need to complete throughout the day."

Seokmin opened his envelope, reading the card inside:

1. Win a prize for Y/N at a game booth

2. Take a selca at the top of the Ferris wheel

3. Share one cotton candy (one stick, two people)

Easy enough. Though the Ferris wheel part made his stomach flip with nerves—not because of the height, but because of the romantic implications. Ferris wheels were where drama couples confessed feelings or shared first kisses. The setting was laden with expectations.

Stop overthinking. It's just a theme park date for a TV show.

Y/N showed him her card, which had similar couple-oriented challenges:

1. Buy matching accessories to wear

2. Feed each other some amusement park food

3. Hold hands on a scary ride

"Looks like we're hitting all the couple clichés today," Y/N observed with a wry smile.

"The PD is nothing if not thorough," Seokmin agreed. "Shall we start with the matching accessories? Get that one out of the way early?"

"Lead the way, fake husband."

The term "fake husband" had become something of an inside joke between them, but lately it had started to pinch a little each time she said it—a reminder of the temporary, manufactured nature of their relationship.

As they walked through the entrance gates, cameras trailing discreetly behind them, Seokmin was acutely aware of the public setting. Unlike their previous filmings in controlled environments, this one would have regular people in the background, potentially recognizing them.

Sure enough, he caught the whispers almost immediately.

"Isn't that Lee Seokmin from SEVENTEEN?"

"And Y/N Y/L/N? The actress?"

"They're the couple from that marriage show!"

"Are they filming right now?"

"Ignore them," Y/N murmured, noticing his discomfort. "Just focus on me."

Focus on me. As if that wasn't what he'd been doing helplessly for the past seven episodes.

"Right," Seokmin agreed, straightening his shoulders. "Just us, having fun. Nothing to see here, folks. Just your average idol and actress fake-married for television, wandering around an amusement park with a camera crew. Totally normal Tuesday."

Y/N laughed, linking her arm through his with casual ease that made his heart skip. "Exactly. Now, about those matching accessories..."

They found a souvenir shop near the entrance and browsed the options. Couple headbands? Too obvious. Matching t-shirts? Too committed. Finally, they settled on simple matching wristbands with the park's logo.

"Subtle but identifiable," Y/N approved as they tied them on each other's wrists. "Perfect for a couple who's been married for approximately five minutes of real time spread across seven episodes."

"When you put it that way, our relationship sounds very efficient," Seokmin joked. "Most couples take years to go through what we've experienced in a few filming days."

"The wonders of television time compression," Y/N agreed, her fingers lingering perhaps a second longer than necessary as she finished securing his wristband.

With one challenge completed, they headed deeper into the park. The atmosphere was lively, with cheerful music playing through speakers and the excited screams from nearby rides creating a backdrop of joyful chaos. Despite his initial nervousness about the public setting, Seokmin found himself relaxing as they walked, falling into easy conversation.

"What rides do you like?" he asked. "Thrill seeker or more of a merry-go-round enthusiast?"

"Somewhere in between," Y/N replied. "I like rides that go fast, but I'm not a fan of ones that spin or go upside down too much."

"What about heights?" Seokmin asked, thinking of their pending Ferris wheel mission.

Something flickered across Y/N's expression. "Heights are... not my favorite thing."

"Really?" Seokmin asked, surprised. "But we have to take a selca on the Ferris wheel."

"I know," Y/N said, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I'll be fine. It's just not something I'd choose voluntarily."

Seokmin filed this information away carefully. "We can save that for last, then. Build up to it."

"My hero," Y/N said with a playful smile, but there was genuine appreciation in her eyes.

They decided to start with some of the gentler rides to warm up. The bumper cars provided an opportunity for Seokmin to showcase his terrible driving skills, while Y/N proved unexpectedly aggressive, targeting him mercilessly.

"I thought we were on the same team!" Seokmin protested after she rammed into him for the third time.

"All's fair in love and bumper cars," Y/N called back, circling around for another attack.

The cameras captured their competitive banter, the PD giving approving nods at their natural chemistry. After bumper cars came the spinning teacups (moderately successful) and a carousel ride (during which Seokmin pretended his horse was in an intense race with Y/N's).

"I think it's time for something more thrilling," Y/N suggested after they'd exhausted the tamer options. "Maybe we can tackle the 'hold hands on a scary ride' challenge?"

Seokmin's heart rate picked up at the thought. "Sure, what did you have in mind?"

Y/N pointed to a massive roller coaster that featured multiple loops and a near-vertical drop. "That one."

"You're sure heights aren't your thing?" Seokmin asked skeptically. "Because that seems very... high."

"Roller coasters are different," Y/N explained. "You're moving too fast to really register the height. It's the slow ascent and hovering at the top that bothers me."

"Like on a Ferris wheel," Seokmin concluded, understanding dawning.

"Exactly," Y/N confirmed with a small smile. "But I'll be brave for the mission."

"We'll tackle it together," Seokmin promised, feeling a surge of protectiveness. "But first, let's see if I scream higher than you on this death trap."

The line for the roller coaster was long, giving them time to chat while the cameras captured their anticipation. Seokmin found himself sharing stories about amusement park trips with his members, while Y/N told him about a disastrous high school field trip where she'd gotten separated from her class and ended up accidentally joining a tour group of elderly tourists.

"They were so nice," she recalled with a laugh. "They kept offering me candies and asking if I needed to rest. I spent two hours looking at flower arrangements with them before my teacher found me."

"That's adorable," Seokmin said, genuinely charmed by the mental image of teenage Y/N being adopted by a group of grandparents.

As they approached the front of the line, Y/N's nervous glances at the coaster's imposing structure became more frequent. When they finally boarded and the safety bars lowered into place, she took a deep breath that was slightly shakier than her usual confident demeanor.

"You okay?" Seokmin asked, suddenly concerned that this might be more than just mild nerves.

"Fine," Y/N insisted, though her knuckles were white where she gripped the safety bar. "Just channeling my inner thrill-seeker."

"We can get off if you want," Seokmin offered, but the ride attendant was already moving down the line checking restraints.

"No backing out now," Y/N said with a tight smile. "Besides, we have a mission to complete."

Right. The hand-holding challenge. Though at this point, Seokmin was more concerned with Y/N's comfort than completing missions.

As the coaster began its initial ascent, he quietly offered his hand. Y/N looked at it for a brief moment before entwining her fingers with his, holding on with what might have been more force than strictly necessary for the show.

"I've got you," Seokmin said softly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Y/N's smile was small but genuine. "I know."

And then they were at the top, teetering on the edge of the first drop, and there was no more time for conversation. The coaster plunged downward, and Seokmin found himself screaming at a pitch that would have made his vocal coach weep. Beside him, Y/N's initial scream of terror quickly transformed into shrieks of laughter as they whipped through loops and corkscrews at dizzying speeds.

Through it all, she never let go of his hand.

When they finally jerked to a stop back at the loading platform, both were breathless and laughing, hair windblown and cheeks flushed with adrenaline.

"That was AMAZING!" Y/N exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement. "Can we go again?"

Seokmin stared at her in disbelief. "You were terrified thirty seconds ago!"

"And now I'm exhilarated," Y/N countered. "That's the whole point of these rides."

They exited to where the camera crew waited, still holding hands without seeming to realize it until the PD pointedly looked down at their entwined fingers. They separated quickly, both suddenly finding the exit signs fascinating.

"Challenge completed," the PD noted with satisfaction. "What's next?"

"I think I need to restore my dignity by winning something at a game booth," Seokmin declared. "My screams on that ride were not my most masculine moment."

"I don't know, I found them endearing," Y/N teased. "Like a pterodactyl discovering it can fly."

"That's... not the flattering comparison you think it is," Seokmin replied, but he was laughing too.

They made their way to the game section of the park, where various booths offered prizes for throwing darts, shooting water guns, or knocking down bottles. Seokmin surveyed the options, trying to determine which game gave him the best chance of success.

"How about that one?" Y/N suggested, pointing to a ring toss booth where players tried to loop rings around the necks of bottles.

Seokmin eyed it doubtfully. "Those are notoriously rigged, you know."

"All the more impressive when you win," Y/N countered with a challenging smile. "Unless you don't think you can..."

"Oh, it's ON," Seokmin declared, immediately falling for her obvious manipulation. "I am about to ring toss my way into the history books."

They approached the booth, where an array of stuffed animals hung as prizes. Y/N's eyes lingered on a large plush dog with floppy ears and a goofy expression.

"That one's cute," she commented casually.

Message received. Seokmin paid for a round of rings and took aim at the bottles, determined to win that specific prize for her.

His first attempt sailed completely over the bottles and hit the back wall of the booth.

"Just warming up," he assured Y/N, who was poorly concealing her amusement.

The second throw bounced off the rim of a bottle and ricocheted in an impressive series of bounces before landing on the ground.

"Physics is clearly working against me," Seokmin reasoned.

The third attempt actually made it around a bottle, but it was one of the ones that only won a small consolation prize.

"Progress!" Y/N encouraged.

The fourth and fifth attempts were similarly unsuccessful, leaving Seokmin with empty hands and wounded pride.

"One more round," he insisted, paying for another set of rings. "I'm getting that dog if it's the last thing I do."

Six more failed attempts later, Seokmin was beginning to understand why these games had a reputation for being impossible. The booth operator was watching with increasing amusement, while the camera crew had settled in for what was clearly going to be an extended segment.

"Maybe we should try a different game," Y/N suggested gently.

"No," Seokmin replied, a look of determination settling on his face. "I said I would win you that prize, and I'm going to do it. No matter how many tries it takes."

"My hero," Y/N said, and though there was teasing in her tone, there was something warm in her eyes that made Seokmin's resolve strengthen.

Three more rounds and fifteen more failed attempts later, Seokmin was contemplating whether it would be easier to just climb over the counter and steal the plush dog when he finally, FINALLY landed a ring around the center bottle—the one that won the grand prize.

"I DID IT!" he shouted, jumping up and down with more excitement than the achievement probably warranted. "DID YOU SEE THAT? I AM THE RING TOSS CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!"

Y/N was laughing, clapping her hands in genuine delight at his childlike enthusiasm. "That was amazing! I can't believe you actually did it!"

The booth operator handed over the coveted plush dog with a look of mild surprise, clearly not having expected anyone to actually win it. Seokmin accepted it triumphantly and presented it to Y/N with an exaggerated bow.

"For you, my lady. Only took half my yearly salary and possibly the development of a gambling addiction, but totally worth it."

Y/N accepted the stuffed dog, hugging it to her chest with a smile that made all those failed attempts completely worthwhile. "I shall treasure him forever. What should we name him?"

"Persistence," Seokmin suggested. "Or perhaps 'Financial Ruin.'"

"How about 'Lucky'?" Y/N countered. "Since it was lucky throw number twenty-something that won him."

"Lucky it is," Seokmin agreed, feeling oddly touched that she wanted to name it together, as if it were their shared pet rather than just a carnival prize.

With the ring toss challenge completed (albeit at great cost to Seokmin's wallet and dignity), they moved on to the food section of the park. The "feed each other" challenge from Y/N's card was next on their list.

They surveyed the options—corn dogs, ice cream, various fried foods on sticks—before settling on a stall selling hotteok, the sweet pancakes filled with sugar, cinnamon, and nuts.

"These look dangerous," Y/N observed as they received their order. "Very messy potential."

"That's half the fun," Seokmin replied. "Nothing says romance like getting syrup all over your face while cameras document your humiliation."

They found a table and sat down, the hotteok steaming between them. The cameras positioned to capture the feeding moment, which suddenly felt more intimate than Seokmin had anticipated.

"Ladies first," he said, breaking off a piece and holding it up for Y/N.

She leaned forward, eyes locked with his as she took the bite from his fingers. There was something deliberate in the way she maintained eye contact, something that made Seokmin's breath catch in his throat.

"Your turn," she said after a moment, breaking off her own piece and offering it to him.

Seokmin leaned in, hyperaware of her fingers brushing against his lips as he accepted the bite. The sweetness of the hotteok was almost overwhelmed by the rush of emotions flooding his system.

It's just for the show. It's just for the cameras. It doesn't mean anything.

But the soft smile Y/N gave him as she wiped a bit of sugar from the corner of his mouth with her thumb felt anything but staged.

"Two challenges left," she said, glancing at their mission cards. "Cotton candy and the Ferris wheel."

"Let's get the cotton candy now and save the Ferris wheel for sunset," Seokmin suggested. "It'll look better for the photos."

And give Y/N more time to prepare for her fear of heights, though he didn't say that part aloud.

They found a cotton candy vendor and ordered a single stick, the fluffy pink cloud almost comically large between them.

"How exactly are we supposed to share this?" Y/N wondered, eyeing the sugary confection.

"With great difficulty and maximum stickiness," Seokmin predicted. "Want first bite?"

Y/N tore off a piece, the sugar immediately dissolving on her tongue. "So sweet!"

"That's kind of the whole point," Seokmin laughed, taking his own piece.

They wandered through the park, passing the cotton candy back and forth, occasionally tearing off pieces for each other in a continuation of their feeding challenge. It was simple, silly fun, but Seokmin found himself treasuring these lighthearted moments even more than the more obviously couple-oriented challenges.

As the afternoon wore on and the cotton candy dwindled to nothing but a sticky paper cone, they found themselves approaching the final challenge—the Ferris wheel. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, creating the perfect romantic backdrop.

Too perfect, in Seokmin's opinion. It felt like a setup, a manufactured moment designed to push them into something neither was ready to acknowledge.

"We don't have to do this if you're really uncomfortable with heights," he told Y/N quietly as they approached the imposing wheel.

Y/N took a deep breath, clutching Lucky the plush dog a little tighter. "It's fine. I can handle it. It's just a slow-moving wheel, right?"

"Right," Seokmin agreed. "And I'll be right there with you."

The line moved quickly, and soon they were being ushered into a glass-enclosed carriage. The camera crew couldn't join them in the small space, instead giving them a handheld camera to capture their own footage. This created an unexpected sense of privacy, despite knowing the footage would be viewed later.

As the wheel began to turn, lifting them higher into the evening sky, Y/N's knuckles whitened where she gripped the edge of the seat.

"Hey," Seokmin said softly, covering her hand with his. "Look at me, not down."

Y/N's eyes found his, gratitude clear in her expression. "Sorry. It's silly, I know."

"It's not silly," Seokmin assured her. "Everyone's afraid of something."

"What are you afraid of?" she asked, seemingly grateful for the distraction as they continued to ascend.

Seokmin considered this. "Professionally? Losing my voice before a big performance. It's my recurring nightmare."

"And personally?" Y/N pressed gently.

The question caught him off guard. They'd shared a lot over the past few months, but rarely ventured into territory this vulnerable. The privacy of their current situation made it easier to be honest.

"Being forgotten, I guess," he admitted after a moment. "Not just as an idol, but as a person. The thought that I might not leave any meaningful mark on the people I care about."

Y/N's eyes softened. "I don't think you need to worry about that. You're pretty unforgettable, Lee Seokmin."

The simple sincerity in her voice made his heart constrict. "What about you? Besides heights."

Y/N was quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting to the sunset visible through the glass, though she kept her hand firmly in his. "Becoming irrelevant, I think. Not necessarily in my career, though that's part of it. But more... being someone people can easily replace or move on from."

The vulnerability in her admission struck a chord in Seokmin. Without thinking, he squeezed her hand. "Also not something you need to worry about."

Their eyes met, and Seokmin was suddenly acutely aware of how alone they were, suspended high above the world in their glass bubble. The moment felt weighted with possibility, with unspoken words hovering between them.

Then the carriage jerked to a stop as they reached the very top of the wheel, and Y/N's fear resurfaced as she glanced down reflexively.

"Oh god, we're so high up," she breathed, her grip on his hand tightening painfully.

"Hey, it's okay," Seokmin soothed, shifting closer to put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't look down. Look out at the sunset instead. Or at me. I've been told I have a very distracting face."

That earned a small laugh from Y/N, though it was tinged with nervousness. "You do have a distracting face," she agreed, turning to look at him rather than the view. "Very expressive."

"One of my many talents," Seokmin confirmed seriously. "Along with pterodactyl screaming on roller coasters and spending obscene amounts of money on rigged carnival games."

Y/N's laugh was more genuine this time, her body relaxing slightly against his. "Don't forget your superior cotton candy sharing skills."

"A comprehensive skill set," Seokmin agreed. "I'm quite the catch."

"You are," Y/N said, and something in her tone made him pause. There was a sincerity there that didn't sound like part of their usual banter.

Before he could respond, she seemed to remember the camera in his free hand. "We should take that selca now, while we're at the top."

"Right," Seokmin agreed, grateful for the distraction from the suddenly charged atmosphere. He held up the camera, angling it to capture both them and the sunset behind them. "Smile!"

Y/N pressed close against his side, her face next to his, smile bright despite her fear of heights. Seokmin took several photos, wanting to make sure they got at least one good one.

"Perfect," Y/N declared, reviewing the images. "Mission accomplished."

As if on cue, the Ferris wheel began moving again, beginning its descent back to the ground. Y/N visibly relaxed as they moved downward, though she didn't pull away from Seokmin's side.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For helping me through that. For distracting me."

"Anytime," Seokmin replied honestly. "That's what fake husbands are for, right?"

There it was again—that slight pinch at the reminder of their arrangement. But Y/N's smile didn't falter as she nodded. "Right."

When they reached the bottom and exited the carriage, the PD was waiting with an approving smile. "Did you get good footage up there?"

"I think so," Seokmin replied, handing over the camera. "All challenges completed successfully!"

"Great work, both of you," the PD said. "That's a wrap for today's episode!"

As the crew began packing up equipment, Seokmin and Y/N found themselves standing together in the fading twilight, the park's lights beginning to twinkle on around them.

"That was fun," Y/N said, still holding Lucky the stuffed dog to her chest. "Even the terrifying parts."

"Especially the terrifying parts," Seokmin corrected with a smile. "Those make the best stories later."

"True," Y/N agreed. "No one wants to hear about the time everything went perfectly according to plan."

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, neither quite ready for the day to end.

"Do you want to grab dinner?" Seokmin found himself asking before he could overthink it. "The cameras are off, but we could still..."

He trailed off, suddenly unsure if he was overstepping. They rarely spent time together off-camera, though their text conversations had become increasingly frequent.

Y/N hesitated, and for a terrible moment Seokmin thought she was going to decline. Then she smiled, nodding. "I'd like that. I'm starving after all that cotton candy and hotteok."

"A balanced meal of pure sugar," Seokmin agreed with relief. "The cornerstone of any nutritious diet."

They ended up at a small restaurant near the park, tucked into a corner booth away from prying eyes. The conversation flowed easily, moving from reflections on their day to stories from their respective careers to childhood memories. It was the first time they'd spent significant time together without cameras recording their every word, and Seokmin found himself cherishing the authenticity of it.

"Can I ask you something?" Y/N said after their food had arrived. "And you don't have to answer if it's too personal."

"Sure," Seokmin replied, curious.

"Why did you agree to do 'We Got Married'? You mentioned losing at rock-paper-scissors, but was that really it?"

Seokmin considered the question, wanting to give her an honest answer. "Partly, yes. The members volunteered me when the offer came in. But I could have refused if I'd really wanted to."

"So why didn't you?"

"I thought it would be good exposure," Seokmin admitted. "Both for me personally and for the group. And I thought it might be fun, in a terrifying sort of way." He paused, then added, "I didn't expect..."

"What?" Y/N prompted when he trailed off.

Seokmin met her eyes. "I didn't expect to enjoy it as much as I have. Or to..."

Like you as much as I do. The words hovered unspoken between them.

"Me neither," Y/N said softly, seemingly understanding what he couldn't quite say. "It's been... unexpectedly nice."

There was that word again. Nice. Such a simple word for the complex emotions swirling between them.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of their check, breaking the spell that had settled over their conversation. They split the bill and made their way outside, where reality awaited in the form of their respective managers parked nearby.

"Thank you for today," Y/N said as they prepared to part ways. "For winning Lucky, and for helping me on the Ferris wheel, and... everything."

"Thank you for making it so easy," Seokmin replied honestly. "Being married to you, even just for a TV show, has been... nice."

Y/N smiled at his echo of her earlier word. "See you for episode nine?"

"I'll be there," Seokmin promised. "With bells on, probably, knowing our PD's penchant for increasingly elaborate scenarios."

Y/N laughed, then surprised him by stepping forward and giving him a quick hug, Lucky the stuffed dog squished between them. "Goodnight, Seokmin."

"Goodnight," he replied, watching as she walked to her manager's car.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, his phone buzzed with a message. It was from Y/N—a selca of her with Lucky the stuffed dog positioned on her pillow.

Y/N: Lucky says goodnight. He also says thanks to his ring toss champion dad.

Ring toss champion dad. The casual implication of shared parenthood, even of a stuffed animal, made Seokmin's heart do a complicated flip.

Seokmin: Tell Lucky he's welcome, and that his Ferris wheel survivor mom is the real hero of the day.

Y/N: We make a good team, don't we?

Such a simple question, laden with potential meanings.

Seokmin: The best team. Even if we disagree on rug colors.

Y/N: Especially when we disagree on rug colors.

Seokmin smiled at the callback to their decoration argument. There was something comforting about these inside jokes they'd developed, these shared references that belonged just to them.

Y/N: I had fun tonight. Both on and off camera.

Seokmin: Me too. We should do it again sometime.

Y/N: I'd like that.

Three simple words that made Seokmin's chest tighten with hope and fear in equal measure. As he set his phone aside, he couldn't help but wonder where this was heading. Two episodes left, and then what? Back to their separate lives, with nothing but memories of a fake marriage that had begun to feel anything but fake?

For the first time since the show began, Seokmin allowed himself to admit what he'd been trying to deny for weeks now: he was falling for Y/N. Not for the cameras, not for the show, but for real.

And that realization was both the most thrilling and terrifying thought he'd had all day—far scarier than any roller coaster or Ferris wheel could ever be.

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septaofficial · 7 months ago

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very cool! I love seeing maps like this as a look at what we had and could potentially have again one day!

@septaofficial

Alt history Septa map I made, what do you think?

#slight nitpicks lol #king manor station and Dekalb st Station on the NHSL are the same station #king manor was renamed Dekalb st #tho I do appreciate you doing the slightest bit of research on the Pottsville line and put Valley Forge instead of Port Kennedy #(a town which hasn't existed in decades lol)#I was kinda hoping to see the center city loop and something with the tracks on Columbus Blvd into south Philly #did you know the el originally turned south after 2nd street? it went to the piers for the ferries into jersey!#plus the NHSL originally split at around Ardmore jct to go to Strafford #oh and the liberty bell line! tho I don't blame you for not adding that lol but it would be cool to see again!#overall #very cool! well put together!! I love it!!!!

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padfootagain · 6 months ago

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Love in Verses (XLIII)

Chapter 43: ‘The whole world depends on your pure eyes and all my blood flows into their gaze’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cuteness, some cuteness!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4472

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

The curve of your eyes winds around my heart, A round of gentleness and dance, Halo of time, night cradle and safe, And if I no longer know all that I’ve lived It’s that your eyes haven’t always seen me.

Leaves of day and foam of dew, Reeds of the wind, scented smiles, Wings shading the world of light, Boats brimming with sky and sea, Hunters of noise and sources of colour,

Scents bloomed from a brood of dawns That still rests on a bed of stars, As the day depends on innocence The whole world depends on your pure eyes And all my blood flows into their gaze.

Paul Eluard, Capitale de la douleur, 1929

Summer. Emerald waves tainted the sea with white foam. Warmth. Rest. Vacations. Rain…

… it was Galway, after all, rain was never far away.

Andrew was getting frustrated. He was so excited to go on this vacation with you, you had spent so much time planning, and talking about it, and awaiting this trip…

… and now it was raining. It was cold. You were lost. In the middle of fucking nowhere. Stuck behind some bloody sheep…

Only in Ireland, really… It was fucking August, for God’s sake…

He heard you letting out a long exhale, feeling your frustration creeping through every corner of the car, your negative energy matching his.

He knew you would end up fighting. It didn’t happen often, but every couple fought from time to time. It had never been important, never been anything you couldn’t get passed in a matter of minutes. Your fights had always grown out of frustration over situations, like this one iteration of everything going wrong…

On the back seat, Elwood was growing restless. Andrew could hear its heavy breaths, the noise of his fur moving against the fabric of the seats. Even him was getting annoyed now.

“You should have turned left.”

There it was. Andrew knew you had longed to voice that sharp remark. To be fair, you were right, he was the one who had insisted to turn right at a previous intersection, hence getting the three of you lost.

He was not in the mood to be a reasonable adult and recognising his wrongs though.

“Next time, you’ll drive, so you can take all the bad decisions, and I can do the blaming. You had the map…”

“We have a fucking GPS…”

“Which is not currently working in this godforsaken land…”

“And I told you to turn left, and you didn’t listen!”

“Again, just take the fucking wheel then!”

You exchanged a glare, your eyes sparkling with thunder, before you huffed and looked at the time on your phone.

“We won’t catch the ferry. We should turn back.”

“We can still catch it.”

“It’s leaving in less than half an hour…”

“We can still catch it.”

“Andrew! We have no fucking clue where we are! We’re stuck behind those bloody sheep! We will not make it to the ferry, so let’s just… go back to the house.”

“You’re getting defeated…”

“No, I’m realistic. We’ll never get there on time, and especially not with these bloody sheep!”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?!”

You stared at each other for a moment. And then you did something Andrew had not predicted.

You unfastened your seat belt, opened the car door, and left.

You climbed out of the car, forcefully slammed the door shut. And you started walking across the road, walking ahead without so much as a glance in his direction. You had barely managed a few steps that you were already soaked.

As he stared at you walking under the rain, walking away from the car, walking away from him, all traces of anger left Andrew’s body. Instead, an old fear came back, raging, blurring his world for a second.

You were leaving…

In the span of a handful of seconds, mere seconds, his brain raced to the worst scenario possible. His thoughts stopped being logical and were filled with his worst fear instead.

You were sick of him. You regretted moving in with him. You wanted your ex back all over again. You would have been happier with Frank than with him. You were leaving, dumping his arse, it was over…

God… how could he survive that? You were… you were… he couldn’t…

But then you did turn around.

“ANDREW! HELP ME OUT FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

He frowned, unable to move.

“ANDY! COME HELP ME OUT!”

That was when he finally realised what you were doing. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t walking out of his life. You weren’t breaking up with him, you were…

He saw you moving your arms in the air, calling through the heavy rain towards the scattered sheep, and he finally understood that you were trying to gather them all on the side of the road, towards an open field.

He tried to regulate both his breathing and his heartbeat while he climbed out of the car, securing his coat around his frame to protect himself from the cold rain.

He was panicking over nothing. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t leaving. It was fine… he was fine… all fine…

He longed to hurry to you, but his body couldn’t. It was a strange mixture of tiredness, frustration, remnants of anger, and fear. Mostly fear.

He had to stop overthinking everything. You weren’t like that. You loved him, and he knew that, deep down… it was just difficult for him to believe he was that lucky sometimes. He couldn’t help it…

You turned to him as he approached.

“We need to get them out of the way,” you said, your voice still shaking with anger.

You were visibly surprised when he wrapped his arms around you, held you in a fragile embrace. He felt you instantly relaxing, your body growing numb into his arms as you reached up to hold him as well.

“I’m sorry I got mad,” you mumbled under your breath, although you were still frustrated.

“I’m sorry too.”

“We should go back.”

“I’m sorry. You were excited about this trip.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“It is though.”

“It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

You didn’t hesitate a second to say it back, to pick up on one of his pet names again. And he ought to stop overthinking everything, but he couldn’t…

“Let’s go back to the car. You’re soaked, love. You’ll catch your death. Come on,” he prompted you towards the car, and you followed him.

Andrew made a U-turn, drove back to the small cottage-like house you were renting during your two weeks in Galway. The drive back was quiet, but the silence was comfortable and warm again. All traces of frustration seemed to have disappeared from your features by the time you reached the cottage. It had stopped raining too, so you didn’t get even more drenched as you walked from the car to the front door.

You heaved a relieved sigh as you stepped inside the warm house, you wiggled happily as you took off your coat.

“We can try to get to the ferry again tomorrow,” Andrew started, his tone cautious.

You surprised him with a shrug.

“We could. We’ll see.”

“I thought you wanted to…”

“Andy… it’s alright. I don’t care. Don’t overthink this. It’s just an afternoon, it was just an activity. We can stay here today, relax, enjoy each other’s company. I don’t mind if we don’t go see the Arans. I don’t mind at all. I promise.”

Andrew forced his shoulders to relax.

“We can still go later this week.”

You nodded, a playful glimmer shining in your eyes.

“Although, next time, we’ll turn left,” you quipped, teasing him while gently pinching his side.

He rolled his eyes, but a smile was back on his lips. If you were joking around, it meant that you weren’t mad. Good… that was good…

“You should take a shower, love. You’re freezing,” Andrew spoke in a quiet, warm voice, the one he knew always soothed you. He let his knuckles brush the sharper edge of your cheekbone, hated the coldness of your skin, longed for you to be warm and content again.

You nodded, taking off your jumper and wet jeans as you made your way to the bathroom.

“Actually, I think I’ll take a bath. We can take our time today, relax.”

You turned around, tilted your head a little in a tempting way as you spoke again. Andrew was having a hard time looking at your eyes instead of the length of your naked legs…

“Want to join me?” you smiled.

He gave you a suggestive look.

“In the bath? Or in bed?”

You bit down on your lower lip, and Andrew was gone for good. God, you had him wrapped around your finger… were you aware of the extent of his need for you?

“Hmm… bed first, then a bath? After all, we did fight… Some make-up sex is in order, no?”

He hummed, nodding his head as he walked closer to you. This time he didn’t refrain his urge to let his gaze travel down your legs, marvelling at their perfect curves, his fingers tingling already at the thought of touching them, feeling the softness of your skin, your warmth spread through his palms…

When he stopped, right before you, and looked up at your eyes again, there was something inviting in your gaze. He knew this look very well by now. It was the one that granted silent permission, the one that said I want you too, you can touch me…

His heart swelled at the thought that you were granting him the right to be this close to you now. That you were allowing him, even inviting him, to touch you. To kiss you. To worship your body… and he would. For the coming hour, he planned to do nothing but worship you, in the hopes that you would read in his adoration how much he loved you. How much he cared. How much he needed you.

You were staring right into his eyes as your hands slowly rose to his chest, as you peeled his cardigan off his body. There was so much tension in the air then, electric, as heavy as your stammering breaths, while you slowly unfastened the buttons of his white shirt. One button at a time. At an excruciatingly slow pace…

He let you do it though, do as you pleased with him. He loved it, the way you were setting a pace now. The way you were taking control. There was a quiet tenderness in each of your touches that told him he was safe with you, that you would never do him harm, that he could lay his heart, his body, his life into your hands, and despite that power over him, you wouldn’t destroy him.

He needed to stop overthinking everything…

He helped you slide his shirt off his shoulders, let you rest your palms on his undershirt, one hand on of each of his breasts.

“I love you.”

He grinned at the tender confession.

“I love you too.”

When you reached up to kiss him, it felt like breathing after a lifetime without air, like relief, like being alive…

At last… at fucking last…

This ought to be heaven.

After your pleasurable reconciliation, you opted to take a bath together. An hour spent in pleasure was incredible, but also exhausting, and both of you longed for rest now. Sharing a bath offered the warmth and quiet perfect for your tired bodies, and the intimacy you both craved after sex.

Andrew smiled at the memory.

Incredible sex, actually…

You heaved a content sigh as you readjusted your head against his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His brain was fuzzy with a happy static, the kind he had never experienced before. A strange sense of peace, contentment, happiness… but that felt better than all of that combined. He couldn’t explain it. He felt it only with you, that was for sure…

“Your skin is so soft,” he mused, trailing his fingers across your waist and hip, speaking without thinking.

It felt so soothing to have you in his arms like this. There was something grounding, reassuring, and delightfully vulnerable in lying here with you, naked, sharing a bath and cuddling. You seemed to have a special power, one that made his busy brain grow quiet.

You chuckled at his words, kissed his chest as a reward.

“Yours is soft too,” you nodded, caressing his chest as if to stress your words.

Andrew shifted his legs, unfolding them to prop his feet on the edge of the bathtub, making the water and its bubbles shift with his movements. You had added some scented salts, and he liked it. It was soothing. It felt so nice.

Loving you was so good…

You giggled, making him look at you again.

“God… even this gigantic bathtub is too small for you…”

He laughed then, bright and happy with your teasing. He wiggled his toes for good measure, making you break into laughter once more.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugged.

“I love that about you. That you’re really tall.”

“Do you, now?”

You hummed in response.

“It’s sexy.”

He chuckled, his cheeks turning a brighter shade of pink.

“Oh… so I’m sexy?”

He wiggled his eyebrows, making you laugh.

“Of course you are,” was your only answer, offered as if it was obvious.

Sometimes he forgot that you loved him this way. Like it was easy. Like there was nothing more natural in the world. That was how he felt for you; loving you felt as natural as filling his lungs with air, blinking at the bright sun, moving his leg over yours in bed. It was easy. Obvious. Ineffable.

You said that you felt like that, too. If it were a truth, it was a hard one to believe in. He wanted to though, longed for the safety of certainty.

He looked up at the ceiling, let out a long exhale as you nuzzled into his neck again, ran your fingers across his chest in such a soothing way, he almost closed his eyes.

He needed to stop overthinking this. You were here, in his arms, naked, loving him… it ought to be proof enough that you truly wanted him.

This fear he had felt in the car, seeing you walk away, this… uncontrollable dread that you could leave… He had to stop thinking about it, but he couldn’t.

What if you left?

He tried to picture his life without you in it. There would still be Elwood, his parents, his brother, Alex, his friends, his classes, his writing, music, poetry. He could find someone else, eventually. He hated every part of it…

When he pictured you in the same scenarios, everything seemed brighter. His life was better simply because you were in it. He tried to think of his life in a year, in five years, in ten years, in sixty years… Every time the life he wanted had you in it. He couldn’t picture a future that was happy without you being a part of it.

He had never felt like that before. Even with Sam. He had thought he would always love her, and yet, there were bits of his life that he didn’t picture her into. He could imagine living on his own, he could imagine his career, his friends, his family… without Sam in it, and still be content.

Not with you. All these lonesome pictures felt wrong. You were missing…

He thought of his life, the one that awaited him, that laid at his feet, and he didn’t want to live it without you.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your voice was quiet, warm. When he looked down at you again, if there was puzzlement in your gaze, there was infinite tenderness too.

He wanted this to last forever. You. Him. Forever…

He never wanted this to end. And somehow, he just knew then. That the reason why he couldn’t picture a happy life without you, was simply because you were the one for him. You were the love of his life. And his heart would always be yours.

He thought he would be scared by such a realisation, but he wasn’t. He reckoned the feelings had been in his heart for too long, had become a part of him. He was simply putting words on what he felt. You were the love of his life. He was so happy it was you…

He wanted to believe that you felt the same, but he wasn’t sure. It was okay. One day, perhaps, he would be. If he loved you for long enough, if he let you love him fully, perhaps, one day, he would stop being afraid of losing you.

Instead of answering by any of these thoughts, he cupped your cheek, gave you a tender smile.

“Nothing important. I love you, that’s all.”

Andrew was on the porch, you could hear him play the guitar. A soft melody you didn’t know, perhaps it was his own. You encouraged him to write full songs, but he kept on claiming he didn’t really want to. Poetry was enough. Music was enough. The two entities didn’t need to mingle. Sometimes he did play some guitar, hummed a melody to match one of his poems. Which you called ‘writing a song’, but he called it ‘exploring a theme through different media’. You rolled your eyes at him every time.

After the heavy rains of the afternoon, the evening was sunny and surprisingly warm. Outside, the sun was setting, kissing the hills goodbye as it lingered on their tops, flashing its golden hues into the sky before it would grow dark. You walked out with a cup of warm tea in each of your hands, took a moment to watch the beautiful colours in the sky, all golden and orange fading into red. It was quiet, you had rented a small house as an AirBnB in the country side, and there was no one around. Your closest neighbours owned a farm about a kilometre away, the road leading to the cottage was rarely used. You let your eyes travel across the fields, the green of grass, the deeper shades of bushes, the winding lines of stone walls. It was magical, in a way. There was something anchoring to this land, that made you feel like you belonged there.

The soft melody resumed on Andrew’s guitar, you turned to him. Elwood was lying at his feet with his eyes closed, but the movement of his tail told you he wasn’t asleep. Andrew was sitting on a wooden bench, right under the window of the kitchen, his legs stretched before him and taking up the whole width of the porch. His fingers danced on strings, he was humming every now and then. His notebook was by his side, open on a page stained with black ink. It was the notebook you had offered him the previous year, for his birthday. He never went anywhere without it. He seemed so peaceful, a content smile tugging at his lips. His long hair was tight in a messy bun, and he was gorgeous in an old pair of jeans and a blue plaid shirt, his skin and hair bathed in the golden light of the sinking sun. Beyond him, hills rolled, green and gorgeous. Andrew was all you could see.

You remained standing there, motionless, like a fool, staring at your partner with awe written all over your features. It was such a mundane, simple sight. And yet, it struck you then. The depth of your feelings for him, your longing for this never to end, for him never to leave.

It was silly… so silly… to realise that truth just by watching him, in casual clothes, playing mindless melodies on his guitar. And yet, that was the moment when you admitted to yourself that this was the life you wanted. You. Him. Forever. You never wanted this to end.

And God, he told you he loved you daily, showed it even more in a thousand actions and attentions he had for you each day. And yet, a part of you was still afraid he would leave, that you could lose him. What would you do without him?

You hadn’t noticed the music fading, too busy getting lost in the green of his eyes as he turned to you.

“You’re alright, love?” he asked, accent thick on his tongue with the fondness of his words, while he tilted his head.

You shook yourself, walked over to him.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m okay,” you smiled. “Made you some tea.”

“Oh, thanks!”

He accepted the cup you offered, moved his notebook so you could sit by his side. You didn’t mean to pry, you knew Andrew would not want you to read his writing unless he offered to tell you about it, so you looked away from the notebook as soon as you caught the title of his new poem.

That You Are.

“It’s about you,” he explained, noticing your glimpse at the notebook.

“I didn’t read…”

“I know. I trust you.”

You exchanged a smile.

“Are you really writing about me?” you asked, feeling shier now.

He chuckled, kissed your cheek.

“Who else could I write about? You’re my partner…” he answered, bending slightly in search of your gaze.

“I don’t know… your mistress…”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re right, she’s hiding in the trunk of our car.”

“Can she breathe in there?”

“Bottle of oxygen.”

“Clever.”

He shook his head at you while laughing, but when he spoke again he was serious once more.

“It’s not quite finished, you can’t read it for now.”

“That’s okay. Do you want to tell me more about what it’s about?”

He shrugged, blushing.

“It’s about… being in love with you. And… wanting to be where you are all the time.”

He stared at you, and you couldn’t help yourself when you reached up to cup his jaw and kiss his lips.

“What about the music?”

“Just…something I’ve been thinking about. To go with the poem.”

“So… you’re writing me a song now? Am I about to be serenaded?”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re insufferable,” he mumbled, before shushing your unspoken teasing with a quick kiss.

“I like it when you sing.”

“I know.”

There was something emotional shining in his eyes, but he didn’t speak more about it, and you let him draw the conversation away.

“What have you been up to?” he asked, taking a sip of his warm beverage while he put his guitar away.

He always asked these kinds of questions. At the end of every day he asked about how your classes had been, how was your research, how you were feeling. What had you been doing during the hours you had spent apart? It wasn’t prying, if you didn’t want to tell him, he didn’t insist. He just… genuinely wanted to know how your day had been. And you did the same for him. You remembered a time when you had settled for less than that simple, daily gesture. What an idiot you had been…

“I was just checking the weather for the coming days. It should be sunny on the Arans in a couple of days, so perhaps we could stay on the main land tomorrow. Perhaps a nice trek? It should rain early in the morning, but it’ll clear before noon.”

Andrew nodded, sipping on his tea, readjusting his glasses. At his feet, Elwood was now napping for good.

“We can drive to the national park, it isn’t far from here” he offered, looking at your phone as you showed him a page that referenced some paths across the wilderness of Connemara.

“Yeah, I thought we could walk around a lough.”

You studied the maps for a while, decided which path you would take the next day. Once the plans for your little adventure were sorted, Andrew gave you a mischievous smile, turning around and swinging his long legs over the edge of the bench. You fondly smiled as he moved to rest his head on your laps. His knees were bent over the edge of the bench, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Can I?” you asked in a quiet, tender voice as you lightly tugged on his hairband. He merely lifted his head a little as a response, so you could free his long curls, letting the chestnut strands cover your laps.

You took off his glasses too, secured them by your side. He let his eyes close with a relieved sigh as you ran your hands through his hair. You felt his body relax, the tension in his muscles disappear under your soft touch.

“This is so nice,” he hummed.

“It is,” you nodded, softly scratching his scalp, and he let out a long breath in response.

“I know that we had to wait until August to leave for our anniversary, instead of celebrating properly at the right date… but it was worth the wait!”

“We did celebrate on the date, though.”

“Yeah… but this is the actual celebration. Like… the real gift.”

“Hmm… yeah, you’re right. And I agree, it was worth the wait.”

“We outdid ourselves with this trip.”

“Yeah, we did.”

“It feels so nice to be just the two of us. To not have to worry about the usual, daily problems for a while.”

“Yeah… I reckon we both needed this.”

He took one of your hands in his. While you kept on running your fingers through his hair, he brought your other hand to his mouth, pressed it to his lips for a long kiss, intertwining your fingers together. He brought it to rest on his sternum next, stroking your knuckles.

You wanted to tell him, then. That he was the one. That he was the love of your life. That you never wanted him to leave…

But you couldn’t. You didn’t have neither the courage nor the strength. It had been a year, it was too soon. You knew, but he probably didn’t. Why scare him off when you could stay quiet and stare at his handsome features while the day ended and a new night was born out of the sun’s absence? It was safer this way…

“I love you so much, Y/N. You know that, right?” he asked in a whisper, and you noticed by how his voice had quietened that he was beginning to drift off to sleep.

You offered a tender smile he couldn’t see.

“I love you too, Andy. More than anything.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, and a moment later, his lips were parting, and he was asleep, your hand still in his, resting on his chest, and his head on your lap. You kept on looking at him, admired his peaceful expression as he slept, every detail of his face, making sure to commit each of them to memory. You didn’t pay much attention to the dying sunset, despite the colours it shone onto the world. Only when it was getting too dark for you to see Andrew’s features did you notice the passage of time. But then again, he was beautiful like this, and his hair was so soft, and the weight of his head on your lap was reassuring, grounding…

Five more minutes…

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier series #hozier professor au #hozier au #professor au #series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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westcoastcollectives · 1 year ago

Text

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢs - billie eilish x fem!reader

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs - angst w happy ending, allusion to homophobia

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ - in which y/n is afraid to come out to the public about their relationship or in which billie & y/n love each other despite other’s opinions

ᴀ/ɴ - soooo, i used to post on this account (username bilsluvr) but i deleted everything and revamped the account 😭. this is an old fanfic that i wrote in 2022 , but in honor of the new album i’ve decided to repost it :) i hope you guys like it <3 (also this is based on billie’s song “come out and play” so i recommend to listen to it while you read.)

“wake up and smell the coffee”

“good morning bil” y/n spoke softly as she held her half full cup of coffee and smiled at the black haired girl in front of her. “hey baby” billie leaned over to peck the girls lips.

“but i love it when you’re awfully quiet”

“sleepy?” billie said as she placed her hand on y/n’s cheek. “yeah..” y/n leaned on billie’s hand. “i love you, you know that right?” billie said tenderly. “yeah, i do.” y/n whispered, turning her head slightly to peck billie’s palm, looking at the deep blue eyes lovingly.

“you see a piece of paper, could be a little greater”

“whatcha doin’?” billie asked as she took a sip of her hot tea. the warm ambience of the busy café making them feel like they were the only ones there.

“drawing” y/n giggled. billie looked at the napkin, feeling content with the day. “drawin’ what?” billie asked, smiling at the girl.

“mmm, i don’t really know,” y/n looked at the napkin. “what i feel i guess,” she finished. the napkin held a sketch of a snowy night city with a ferris wheel. “are you cold..?” billie questioned. “no billie!” y/n laughed.

their moment was interrupted when a teenage girl walked up to the smiling couple. “oh my gosh! hi! can i get a photo?” she asked excitedly.

“yes, of course” billie held a tight smile, feeling more tense. as soon as y/n noticed, she placed her hand on top of billie’s resting one. almost instantly, billie felt more relaxed just by the touch of her significant other.

“and you don’t have to keep it quiet”

the fan noticed and quickly asked, “are you guys like together or something?”.

billie’s eyes widened and y/n snatched her hand back. billie opened her mouth to answer, but y/n was too fast. “what? of course not,” she said hostilely. “we’re just friends.”

billie looked at her rather confused, but quickly switched to a sad, tight lipped smile. “yeah” she murmured.

billie was so confused. even though they weren’t out, why would she answer that way? so, abruptly.

“let’s take that photo, yeah?” billie said.

“yes!” the fan said, oblivious to the fact that she had just created a dent within the couple.

“and i know it makes you nervous”

they have been driving for a while now. LA traffic not being so light.

“why’d you answer that way” billie finally broke the silence that had been clouding the car.

“what?” y/n said surprised. “you heard me.” billie said, feeling just a tinge of anger, but not much due to the amount of love that she is filled with for the girl.

“you can’t blame me billie. we’re not going to come out to a random fan on a sunday afternoon.” she said a matter of factly.

“i understand, but i didn’t expect you to answer so fast, almost instinctively.” billie stated. feeling insecure about their relationship.

y/n sighed, looking down at her feet, fidgeting with her rings. “no billie, i’m just…” she hesitated. “nervous.”

“but i promise you, it’s worth it.” billie said as they were pulling into the drive way of their shared home.

y/n turned to billie to find her already looking at her. “can you wait for me bil?” she asked nervously.

billie held her two hands and placed them on her lap. “always.” billie said while looking at her eyes.

“look up, out of your window. see snow, won’t let it in though”

“oh my gosh..” y/n said, feeling surprised.

“what?” billie questioned as y/n urgently ran out of the room.

“it’s snowing!!” y/n came back with a big jacket that engulfed her and a beanie that was almost falling off her head.

“oh,” billie chuckled, walking up to her, fixing the beanie on her head. “you scared me, baby.” she said with a small smile. “sorry” y/n said with a wide, genuine smile.

“get out there,” billie suggested, nodding her head towards the door. “you don’t wanna come with?” y/n asked, slightly furrowing her eyebrows.

“nah, i’m already cold. go have fun.” billie smiled. “i’ll watch from in here.” she finished. “okay,” y/n said. “i love you.” she spoke before leaning in to peck billie’s lips softly.

“cause it's colder here inside in silence”

y/n opened the door excitedly, letting the cold wind blow throughout the home, making billie shiver. “sorry,” y/n chuckled. “s’okay, be safe!” billie shouted.

billie watched as the girl rushed to get to the front of the house to play with the snow. as billie watched through the front window, she noticed how truly quiet and cold it is with out the girls warm loud presence.

while watching y/n laugh at how small the snow flakes were, billie realized how grateful she is for y/n. just merely young, dumb, in love teenagers who didn’t care what people thought about them.

what changed? society’s pressure did. and billie hated that it had affect their relationship.

“and you don’t have to keep it quiet”

“what’s got you so quiet y/n/n?” billie asked, leaning over the counter, careful not to spill the iced tea. “just thinkin’” y/n replied, staring at the picture of the two perched on the mantle.

“about..?” billie said hesitantly. “us.” y/n said. “oh, good things i hope” billie nervously chuckled.

“if we come out about our relationship, do you think we’ll get hate?” y/n said sharply. billie’s head snapped towards her, “woah, where did you get that from.” she asked. “i told you, i’m just thinkin’” y/n spoke, feeling helpless.

“i think we’ll get hate no matter what we do,” billie said. “no, i mean,” y/n hesitated and sighed. “i don’t know, never mind.”

“but-“ billie started, “never mind billie.” y/n ended the conversation.

“too shy to say, but i hope you stay.”

“y/n” billie spoke into the silence. “yeah bil?” y/n said softly, looking back at billie from her seated place on the couch.

“i don’t want to hide anymore.” billie spoke confidently. “what?” y/n questioned, feeling rather confused as to where this came from.

“i want to be able to hold your hand in public, post you, love you without being afraid of someone ‘catching’ us.” billie said, finally expressing her feelings. “i love you, and i think that’s all that matters.”

“okay.” y/n whispered. “okay?” billie questioned, feeling invalidated. “what do you mean ‘okay’?” billie said, walking up to the girl and taking the spot next to her on their couch.

“i agree with you billie.” y/n said, not making eye contact with her. “then? what’s wrong?” billie asked, holding y/n’s hand, caressing it.

“i don’t want to hurt you.” y/n said, looking up at the love of her life. “why would you-“ y/n cut billie off, “i don’t want to hurt your career.” y/n spoke.

“oh.” billie murmured. “i don’t care about that.” billie spoke strongly. “i care about you and our future together.” billie was slowly getting more confused.

y/n leaned in for a hug. not saying a word, but feeling the love around them.

they held each other for the rest of the night.

“come out and play”

after hearing the last chords of the song, y/n looked up at billie with tear filled eyes. y/n found herself reminiscing each memory that correlated with the song.

“i’m sorry.” y/n sobbed, hugging billie. “why baby? don’t be sorry.” billie said. “i only want the best for us.” she smiled reassuringly.

“i’m ready.” y/n said, pulling herself away from billie and wiping underneath her eyes. “you’re right. our opinion is the only opinion that matters. it’s our relationship, not anybody else’s.”

billie could explode of happiness if she were able to. she hugged y/n hard, “i’m so happy you finally feel this way.” billie held y/n’s face and leaned in for a kiss full of love and joy.

the couple couldn’t be happier.

sure, they got some hate here and there, but not enough to tear them apart.

#billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #fem!reader #imagines #oneshots #blurbs #hit me hard and soft #come out and play #pride month #gxg

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christinebloodwrittings · 4 months ago

Text

Die in your arms #7

Alastor x Fem!Reader

Taglist open: @littlebluefishtail @maxlynn17 @vxllys @modifiedmonster @sirens-and-moonflowers @qardasngan @polytheatrix

Warnings: Implied SA, imprisonment, trauma, blood, food deprivation.

Masterlist

Proofing made by: @littlebluefishtail

June 1914. New Orleans, Louisiana.

Alastor had his lunch routine. He would take the bag you packed for him every morning, sit on a bench in front of the ferry landing, and try to guess how many tourists would trip over the slightly raised board halfway up the ferry.

It never failed to make him laugh, and it was always better accompanied with your lunches. Getting married was a good investment, he had three meals a day that were no longer cold oatmeal, half-cooked meat, or leftover jambalaya from two nights ago. Or when he had given up on life before meeting you, ham and cheese sandwiches.

So far, 26 people have tripped, and two have fallen face first against the old wood of the harbor. Alastor nearly choked on his bottle of water while chuckling like a scholar.

Between his socio-political thoughts and the lines of his next segment, instead of reading the name of the interviewee of the day, he began to read your name out loud. After that night he spent with you, he couldn’t stop gravitating in your space, like a satellite attracted by your magnetic field.

The worst thing for him was that you pretended that nothing had happened. He wanted to blame it on the alcohol you had drunk before seeing him, but when he saw how you looked at him out of the corner of your eye from time to time, he realized that it was on purpose.

It was frustrating, just as he noticed that you left the door to your room ajar, however, without an out-loud invitation, his mother's upbringing prohibited him from crossing the threshold. He might be a cannibal, but after reading what you went through he wasn’t going to slip under your sheets without your consent, he wasn’t a monster.

On his way back to the station he saw the perfumery across the street. The hospital smell of your skin was in his brain, and he thought, maybe he could break the ice with something that smells better than bandages. At worst he would use the perfume as a bathroom freshener, in case you throw it at his head.

He would have gotten less evil eye and hostility at a police station. The cashier watched him like a hawk, as if he were going to steal something, one of the ladies behind the counter began to remove the products with greater reach as a precaution. As if it were a necessity for him to go so far as to steal from them.

"Good afternoon, sorry to bother you, my wife's birthday is in a few days and I would like to check out some options for perfumes and creams," he faked his best smile despite the saleswoman's obvious displeasure. "It depends on what your wife likes, the most popular are flower scents," she didn't try to help him or hide her repulsion, Alastor was going to make a comment about it until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Ignore her, she's rude to everyone," a young lady, whose face he wasn't going to bother remembering, laughed and instructed the saleswoman to show Alastor three different perfumes.

One smelled like a botanical garden, another like a beach, and the last one like a lemon tree. He decided on the first and last one, along with their counterparts in body creams and soaps. The young lady also recommended a non-scented scrub, which Alastor liked because of the consistency.

He paid, then clocked back in to continue working.

When the night had come, he expected to come home, have dinner, and surprise you with what he had bought. However, from a distance he saw that the door to his house was slightly open.

His blood froze, his heart began to beat a thousand times a second, creating adrenaline in case he had to do something improper. He looked around, noticing that the usual police car was not there, the lock on the door did not seem forced, and the light in your room was on.

He closed the door behind him, slowly put the gift bag on the kitchen counter then headed upstairs, knowing how to step on each tile so as not to make it creak.

As he climbed up, he noticed that there were bloody drag marks on the wall and new dents in the wooden banister. The decorative pictures in the hallway were torn and the larger pieces had been used as daggers, judging only by the bloody tip.

The door to your room was open, the hinges dislodged and the lock smashed. There were signs of violence everywhere, and it got worse the closer he got. Under your bed skirt he could see the large body of a man, pants down and genitals severed.

He opened the closet door, nothing. The bathroom, nothing.

As his heart began to race, he felt a chilling breeze. The back door.

He nearly tripped as he went down the stairs, sprinted through the kitchen, then froze when he saw a large black man in front of you. He made you look so small, and yet, he had a tender look on his face that put an ease on Alastor’s gut feeling.

“How…How did you find me in time?” Your voice broke, air caught in your throat. Alastor took a step back, he was used to seeing you high in your stance, fierce, not broken like a child being scolded for breaking a vase.

“I’ve been looking for you since you left, I’m so glad you’re alive” the man kneeled and pulled you against him. You just embraced him, no hesitation, no restraint…that somehow pissed Alastor off. He wondered, who was this man?

“I lost your track since you entered the military, then saw your face in the paper, that led me here” he brushed your hair off your face, caressing over your scar. He saw no flinch, you trusted him that much. “Just like last time, oddly on time” You buried your body in his embrace, tenderly, comfortably.

The man then caught Alastor’s stare out of the corner of his eye. The smile and particular glint in his eye gave Alastor an uncomfortable prey feeling. “I don’t want to alarm you, but your husband is here” he was waiting to see if you would jump out of his embrace like you were doing something wrong, instead, you looked like you regretted leaving the man’s embrace, then took some distance, avoiding Alastor’s eyes.

“There’s a dead man in my wife’s room” he spoke, ever so matter-of-fact. The man pushed himself up from the ground, clapped his hands and cracked his knuckles, “I’ll get it for you” every step he made thudded against the ground. He felt like a deer facing a lion.

“You don’t have to” you took his arm, the man recoiled back slightly, then laughed tenderly. “Dahlia, It’s the least I can do” he caressed your face then squeezed past Alastor to head upstairs.

“What happened?” Alastor took off his coat and let it fall around your shoulders.“You’re smart, you probably already figured it out” he did, he had the answer already upon seeing the mess, but did not appreciate your dismissive tone. But there was one variable that was still unknown, “And him?” one you apparently wouldn't help him figure out entirely.

“He helped me” you thought that was enough information, judging by the frown he made, it wasn’t. He started rubbing his fingers together. You had seen that before, but never so hard that he started tearing layers of skin. He was staring at the entrance leading to the kitchen, a very intense and angry stare.

With a little courage you took his index finger that was tearing his thumb, with your hand, to slowly intertwine his hand with yours completely.

The thumping steps were back and so you took distance from Alastor, clutching his coat around yourself. “I’ll get rid of it for you and lead the gang to a dead end” Axl winked and threw the body over the fence, like it weighed nothing. “You sure you don’t want to eat something first?” you offered, to which he laughed wholeheartedly, “I’d love to, but I sense your man here will kill me if I don’t leave the premises, won’t you butcher?”.

His blood ran cold. How? When? Then Alastor connected the dots. The matching profile, the small shiny axe strapped to his waist, “The axeman” he whispered, a mixture of amazement and fear. “Keep it to yourself and I shall do the same” a half threat laced with a smile, can’t say he wasn’t impressed.

He limited himself to nodding, “I suppose I owe now” for saving his wife while he was at work. “Not at all, brother, little Dahlia over here helped me when I needed it the most, several times” The axeman patted Alastor’s shoulder, a little too roughly, “It was nothing, and a pleasure. You know which number to dial if you need help” he looked over to you and ruffled your hair. “Stay safe” you muttered, watching him jump over the fence and disappear in the dark.

The sound of running water led Alastor to the bathroom after finishing cleaning downstairs. He hoped to talk about what had happened, although the slight sound of whimpering and grunting led him to knock on the bathroom door, step in and watch the scene. There you were, knees drawn up to your chest, aggressively scrubbing your skin with a dish sponge.

He didn't dare say anything, he just walked a little to take the sponge from your hands. He put out the cold water, then wrapped you up in a soft towel, “Come here” he softly guided you out of the tub to sit at a stool. “Wait for me here” he instructed, firm but gentle.

He got the gift bag, some cleaning supplies and went back upstairs.

He prepared the water, leaving it at a temperature warm enough to prevent you from getting a cold, but not enough to make any wounds irritate on contact.

“Smell this” he held one of the scented soaps close to your nose, there was curiosity, but not the reaction he was looking for, he went for the garden scented one and he got you to take it from his hand.

“You think I stink?” It took him some effort not to laugh, but then he just smiled at you, “No, but smelling of bandages and rubbing alcohol is a bit depressing isn't it?” He helped you back inside the tub once there was enough water.

Since he had already seen your body, what were a few newer bruises going to change? you thought as you took his hand and allowed him to scrub your arm with a softer sponge. “I haven’t given it much thought” you admitted, turning your face from his.

“Have you eaten?” you shook your head, you were about to when the gangster showed up. “Would you like to?” a nod, it was a good sign that you were willing to eat, after everything that must’ve happened in his absence that is. “There’s stew and tomato salad” you remembered, the pot must still be on the counter.

“May I ask-?” you knew what he was going to ask, “Did you have a good day today?” so instead you cut him off. “Y/n-” he gave you a serious tone and stare, you could feel it on your skin as he massaged a bruise on the side of your neck, “I listened to half of your segment, then the music turned boring”.

His ego grew exponentially bigger with the confession you made, but he maintained the seriousness of the moment. He sighed and uttered your name again, this time brushing your hair with some shampoo.

By the time you decided to tell him, you parted your lips, leaving a soreness from biting the inside. You took a deep breath that felt like swallowing water into your lungs.

“He entered through the back, I tried to push him out the front door without going out, he grabbed me and pushed me against the railing, forced me up the stairs, then tried to force himself inside me” you rushed the recap of the events all in one breath, leaving out just how many times he managed to pin you down.

He was able to tell anyways, just by how many grab marks you had on your skin. He could almost see him on you, how the sound of your body hitting the floor must’ve been. It pissed him off, to say the least.

“Was he able to…” he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words, lucky for him you answered just as fast. “No, Axl came in just in time to pull him off of me, then I cut his genitals and flushed them down the drain” Alastor rinsed the second coat of shampoo before adding conditioner, while you finished up scrubbing your body.

The man had just removed his briefs when Axl pushed the door open, nearly ripping it off the hinges. He had already touched, licked and bitten your skin, but there was no major injury, no thanks to Axl who punched the man to his death.

“We went outside after I felt a quick rush, my heart…I just needed fresh air, he helped me out” Your vision had clouded, your body was shaking and your breathing, you couldn't decide whether to inhale or exhale, everything was a mess. You had experienced panic attacks before, so you knew how to ground yourself, but in the haze you could barely look for four objects in the room that you could touch.

Once outside, Axl waited while you rode out your anxiety and anger.

And then Alastor showed up.

Now that he was all caught up he continued to massage some bruises and tender spots.

“We met in a cell, I got a bit of food while he got nothing” you decided to let him in on a fact so he wouldn’t make up wrong ideas in his head. “I split my rations and give him the biggest part” memories flooded your brain, both horrible, and others not so bad.

“He got out before me, then came back to help me escape” in the dead of night, when there was nothing but your ragged breath and the smell of blood and gunpowder, the door busted open. You jumped from a corpse to attack whoever had arrived, when Axl blocked your attack. ‘Dahlia, breathe’ he ordered, so fiercely it gave you a chill. He guided you out, using his arm as a support.

“We parted ways when I recovered and then I entered the military” you uttered, remembering the cabin covered in snow.

‘Dahlia, please’ he pleaded, arms around your shoulders. ‘I can’t stay’ he wanted you to be his, to leave the revenge behind, to dedicate to a life of peace without retaliation. But you couldn’t sleep, thinking of just how many had died before you, and for what? Only a few had died compared to the numbers you released, but there were more trapped, more waiting for someone to deliver them.

‘I’m sorry’ you used his knife to draw a large fast cut from his chest to his lips. As soon as he let you go, you ran, hearing him yell your name, the one he gave you as well as your own.

The splash of water to rinse the soap on your back brought you to the moment.

“And Dahlia?” he asked, “It’s a pet name, we don’t use real names” for a reason you no longer remember. You let go of a deep sigh, “Satisfied?” you uttered as he watched you tense your shoulders again. The whole path of scars following the movement.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, humming a tune, unknown. His face against your neck was warm, slightly rough from his barely growing beard. “Scratchy,” you commented. “Oh yeah? Should I shave?” Alastor pressed closer to your face, rubbing his cheek against yours. “You’d look pretty interesting with a beard, but I like you better with just the mustache” you pressed back.

“As you wish” one kiss, one slight, gentle, tiny kiss to your cheek. How could that trigger such a violent chill, a rush of blood up your cheeks. A smile ever so sweetly, and so dangerous.

“How about you finish here while I clean up your room?” you hummed a yes in response as you watched him shake the bottle of chemicals he uses to clean the basement.

Why the hell did you let him in? Why did it matter? it? When did he begin to matter?

And most importantly… The more he knows, the more danger he'll be in if you leave, or would it be worse if you stay?

“Fuck” you hugged yourself. The water was now cold.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel smut #Human Alastor x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor smut #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader smut #fanfiction #alastor #alastor x you #radio demon x reader #human alastor x you

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shadetoshade · 1 month ago

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Limbus Story Structure Analysis and Predictions

Okay. So I never know how to start or end things, especially when it comes to essays or essay-esque things, but I feel like my analysis is considerably less conspiracy corkboard than usual so I'm gonna roll with it and post it somewhere.

To start off with, I'm going to say that this lens is going to be, for the most part, very Dante-centric. Which... honestly, I feel like it should be, and not just because they're one of my favorites. Dante is, ultimately, the protag, and that's important in all of PM's stories so far. Regardless of who else's stories are being told as the game goes on, ultimately the games have been the story of the protagonist's growth (see: Ayin, Angela, and Roland).

Now, looking at the overall structure of the plot so far, I'm already seeing a pattern: sections separated by a series of three Cantos, with the first Canto in a section serving as a bridge from the previous section. I'll be leaving the Intervallos out because, while they are important, this is already going to be one hell of a long post.

Section 1 -- Cantos I-III

Canto I serves as the bridge between Selva Oscura and the first arc in two ways: it picks up not long after Dante is picked up by Limbus Company and signs on, and it's a shoutout to to the start of Inferno, when Dante first starts his descent into Hell by boarding Charon's ferry at the Acheron.

(This will be as deep as I get into the Divine Comedy, as I'm sticking with themes and general trends. Also because each Canto puts its own spin on the stories they're inspired by so who knows what's going to happen).

ANYWAY. The general arc of I-III seems to be Dante's gradual acceptance of their position of Executive Manager. They start off reluctant and passive through Cantos I and II, frequently blaming others for things going sideways (believing they have no control over Don Quixote, relying on the Sinners to try and liven the mood after the Canto I failure, etc). They don't engage with Gregor or Rodion's backstories like they do with the Sinners in Canto V and up and seem to be more focused on the goal of the Bough than the people around them. And the Sinners act in a similar way.

Then Canto III hits. The Sinners and Dante have had a little more time to get to know one another, and even if they aren't particularly close, they're being tossed into a situation that's MUCH more horrifying and intense than the previous two missions. There's a bond that forms from the Sinners asserting that Dante is a person (aside from Hong Lu's moment but we'll get to that later), and their attempts to defend them from harm. The whole group feels the pain of Effie's death. Dante actually empathizes with Sinclair's backstory and memories and chooses to actually engage with it.

And by the end, even though it's a little too late, Dante, for the first time, TRIES. They choose to see the Sinner in front of them and their plight over just acquiring the Bough, and in doing so, they embrace the role of Manager.

Section 2 -- Cantos IV-VI

Which brings us to the next section, focusing on the growth of the bonds between the LCB--Sinner, Manager, Guide, and Bus Driver.

Canto IV is our bridge, with Dante taking the resolve they gained by the end of Canto III and clumsily attempting to apply it to Yi Sang, and with the Sinners growing closer to one another and beginning to reach out themselves. Dante tries to reach out to Yi Sang multiple times before the end of the Canto, actively noting his despair and depression (something they notably did not do in I or II) and even tries to get him to open up. The Sinners are forced to take part in Yi Sang's Fathoms, actively engaging with the memories and thus gaining some stake within them.

All this leading to the end, where, with Hong Lu's help, Dante is able to finally ask the question that leads to Yi Sang breaking free from the maladaptive patterns of his life and start moving forward as the first "success" of a Sinner's story.

And this moment is marked with a tick forward on the doomsday clock that is Dante's head.

Canto V rides that wave (ha) a little further. By being able to help Yi Sang, Dante now has some idea of what the Sinners might need. They're more persistent when it comes to reaching out to Ishmael and have even grown enough to outright tell Ahab that the Sinners are their responsibility. Meanwhile on the Sinner front, though there are plenty of clashes between Sinners throughout the Canto due to Ishmael's volatility, they continue the trend of support (Rodya pulling Ishmael away to try and calm her down, Yi Sang doing his best to diffuse arguments, Heathcliff pulling away the Pallidification and telling Dante to be supportive of Ishmael while everyone's in the Whale before that).

Then comes Canto VI, with everyone being supportive of Heathcliff, helping him get ready to meet the people there. Meursault being supportive of helping Heathcliff even if it means not getting the Bough (and Outis notably not shooting that down), and even whipping out Chains of Others to restrain the Erlking--the man who usually only does things when ordered to doing this ON HIS OWN.

And then Dante's resolve is also solidified to the point of manifesting the first Durante ability, Pigritia, based solely on their desire to help Heathcliff move forward in his life.

Even Vergilius gets in on the action. While some of his reasoning behind his interference in Canto VI is due to the Ring experiments bringing back memories of his own backstory in Leviathan, the way he speaks to the Sinners and Dante in that moment, as well as his reaction to being called "family" by Heathcliff, is telling in terms of how he feels about the LCB.

By the end of this section, the LCB has bonded. Even if the group has its issues, that much is undeniable.

Section 3 -- Cantos VII-VIII, and predictions for IX

This is the last one I'm going to cover, since.... this is all we have so far. Maybe I'll have more thoughts after IX comes out proper. I'll also be saving my thoughts on what I think this section's arc is for until the end.

Canto VII is our welder. It is ALL about the power of friendship, family, and bonds. I feel like I don't need to go too deep into this here because the Sancho fight exists.

But there's also something else. Don Quixote and Dante share something in common: they've lost their memory. This is even a source of distress on Dante's part through the Canto; the Sinners have to be the ones to bring Sancho to her senses because Dante isn't sure what to do, lacking memories and a dream of their own.

We've also got another parallel going on with Don Quixote's backstory: Person 1 is aloof and has difficulty connecting to others, but is utterly devoted to Person 2, who has a dream that they follow wholeheartedly, trying to bring about a better world. Though Person 2 seems almost naive in the way they go about their wishes, Person 1 finds themselves believing in that dream. One day, something terrible happens, and Person 2's optimism is shattered and they lose faith in their dream. Person 1 takes up this dream and vows to do everything they can to make it a reality.

Now we have Canto VIII, which isn't finished yet. Like Don Quixote, Hong Lu shares a few things in common with Dante: objectification (Dante with the clock and Hong Lu with the jade) and feelings of being powerless to change anything (Dante is a middle manager, with Faust outranking them, so they can't really do all that much). They also have the parallel of being "made" to witness things going around them, regardless of their will.

As for the other parallel.... Head raids a laboratory led by people who may get up to some worrying things (whatever was going on with the experimentation on prisoners in the Kongs's case), but ultimately have good intentions and want what's best for the place they live. A horrible bloodbath ensues that includes the death of at least one small child.

It's probably obvious what the theme is by now. We've got two: the Sinners' pasts and problems explore some of Dante's insecurities (I don't think they necessarily RESOLVE those insecurities, but attention is being brought there), and the backstories are parallels to the rise of Lobotomy Corporation, with Don's story being Ayin's relationship with Carmen and how he took on her dream and the Head's raid in H Corp being the Head's raid on the Outskirt's labs (with Hong Lu's role mirroring Daniel's).

All this leads me to my predictions for Canto IX in terms of parallels and themes, using the above along with what little knowledge I have of Hellscreen. Lately, Canto VII in particular, we've been seeing Dante ponder on the fact that they're becoming more used to the idea of killing things that used to be human/are human, as well as wondering if the thing they're doing as part of the Company are for the best (the whole business with Dad Quixote and holding that info from Don). Considering in Hellscreen, Yoshihide loses his daughter by doing as the Lord says and does increasingly unhinged acts in order to paint a vision of Hell, I wouldn't be surprised to see those ideas touched upon in Ryoshu's Canto in some way.

And on the subject of the LobCorp parallels, well... Angela, as Ayin's creation, is technically his daughter. And we've seen all the shit she had to go through. And considering her creation came after the Head's raid on the Outskirts Lab.... I don't think it's going to be one-to-one but I feel like the themes are definitely going to be there. And the nice(?) thing is, whether you think Ryoshu is the painter or the daughter, it could work either way.

Anyway, that's my thoughts so far. I'm curious to see if I'm right or if I'm proven wrong one node into part 3 of Canto VIII.

#limbus company #canto 8 spoilers #lobotomy corporation spoilers #spoilers for all of Limbus so far lbr

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marlynnofmany · 4 months ago

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A Noir Interlude (In Space)

The dame breezed in like anyone should be happy to see her. She wasn’t wrong; her shiny scales lent color to the room like the Painted Sunset she was named after, and her cheery demeanor was enough to warm the bitterest heart. There was a note of concern nestled between those browridges, though. She had a request for me.

“Do you know who left cracker wrappers in the bathroom sink? It’s Zhee’s turn to clean it, and he’s annoyed about the mess.”

I was on the case.

She led me down hallways that hummed with the song of a distant engine, ferrying us through the blackness of space, and to a little spot I was personally acquainted with. A different sound filled the airwaves here.

“This sink isn’t rated for crumbs! Careless! On the floor is one thing, but in the sink? Who’s eating food in the bathroom??”

Purple exoskeleton gleamed while the cranky fellow gestured with pincher arms and stamped with various bug legs. They made quiet little clicks on the floor. One of his pinchers held a gravity wand suitable for small cleanup jobs. By the look of the backed-up sink, it wasn’t the best tool for plumbing.

He caught sight of me and pointed at the little trash can. “Is that yours? It’s somebody’s crunchy food, not mine.”

I dutifully opened the lid with the foot pedal to take a look. Nope, not my chow. I told him so as I let the lid close. Gotta keep things contained in case of gravity fluctuations.

While the cranky fellow complained some more and I vowed to get to the bottom of it, a clue ran past the door.

A little furry clue, chasing something that crinkled.

I was out the door and hot on the trail in a flash. Crinkling sounds and soft paw-thumps led the way to the kitchen, where I found an entirely different clue.

Eggskin the cook, fastening the lid onto a larger trash can with the air of someone making sure it was done right this time.

“Oh hey, we’re going to have to make sure this is closed properly,” they said, dusting off scaly yellow-green hands. “The cat got into it. There was nothing in there to cause digestive concern, thankfully, but…” Eggskin trailed off and pointed behind me.

Quiet pawsteps, feline pride, and the shrink-wrap plastic that had once held the captain’s favorite eel jerky. Now that plastic was carried like a prize. Which it probably was.

I’d cracked the case.

I thanked Eggskin for their help, and returned to tell Paint and Zhee that the mess was an unfortunate accident, with no one to blame. No one able to apologize for it, at any rate.

Anyways the culprit was a buddy of mine. I managed to trade the jerky wrapper for a proper cat treat, and I threw it away in a trash can that was fully secured. Zhee was almost done cleaning the bathroom, and it wouldn’t do to have this mess start all over again.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#this one's super short so no readmore #also very silly #keen eyes may recognize a Murderbot reference and a phrase from Tracer Bullet / Calvin & Hobbes #quality inspiration right there #noir #detective stories #in spaaace #my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #or in this case #space detectives #on the most crucial of cases

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hannahbarberra162 · 10 months ago

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hOrnithology for Beginners, Epilogue

on Ao3

All the other chapters

Marco come pick me up I have science to do.

I hope you enjoyed the ending! I almost included some smut but it didn't feel right with the pacing of the story.

~~~

Nine More Months Later

Marco POV

Marco watched you survey the deck of the Moby Dick, trying to determine if you were suitably impressed. You were hard to read but the tiny lift in your eyebrows signaled to him your approval. His Phoenix had been driving him absolutely crazy over the past week, wanting to prepare his room and get the ship to pristine condition to ensure you liked it. He’d felt compelled to primp and preen in front of the mirror, the Phoenix wanted to look its best for the returning Ornithologist. Despite trying to keep himself even keel, Marco had snapped at his siblings all week. They taunted him relentlessly, which he deserved. But the Phoenix was riding him hard, wanting everything to be perfect for it’s mate…er, date.

You were coming on board with Etta and they were bringing you across the Grand Line to an uninhabited island. Since their time on your island, Etta had become interested in etymology, specifically related to beetles. She’d maintained a correspondence with Ace, and had let him know the two of you wouldn’t be at your island for a while. Ace told Marco, and the two of them asked Pops if they could ferry the two of you where you needed to go. Pops had agreed easily with a twinkle in his eye. You had a great reputation with the crew already and Marco knew there was a betting pool on whether you’d shoot him again, with most betting that you did.

Marco was hoping for the best, but realistically he didn’t know if anything physical would happen between the two of you. After he’d taken you flying, you’d looked up at him with a wistful gaze and angled your face towards his own. But at the last moment you’d frowned and thrust your hand between the two of you for a handshake. He’d taken it with grace but the Phoenix was sad. He’d tried to calm the bird within him, but it had its heart set on you. The conference had further endeared you to the Phoenix, it felt that you’d found an audience to adore it.

After the conference, Marco had given you a snail in case the World Government or Marines gave you trouble due to your paper about him. That way you’d be able to call him for help if you were targeted as an ally to the Whitebeard Pirates. They hadn’t, but you’d called him a few times to ask follow up questions about specific facets of the Phoenix you were curious about. That had turned into periodic calls and frequent letters between the two of you. You wrote mostly about birds you’d seen and sent some drawings as well. You started including little bits of personal information as well as the months went on. His brothers always knew when he got a new letter - he was snappish and almost hostile until he read the newest piece of news you’d sent him. He saved all your letters in his office, hidden at the bottom of his desk drawer. Marco knew it was silly, but he didn’t want anyone else to see the letters or drawings you’d sent. He could probably recite them all by heart from how many times he’d read them.

So when he finally saw you aboard the ship, he’d had to stop himself from bursting into a deluge of flames. The man knew he had to keep his cool, things weren’t as easy as the Phoenix thought they were. You took stock of the ship, putting your things down for a few moments. Marco noted your blow gun was still strapped to your thigh, he didn’t blame you. Etta had run ahead to Ace, the Logia user swinging her in a circle with loud kisses. He set her down and was whispering into her ear, making her giggle. They scurried off, presumably to Ace’s cabin, as soon as politely possible. You rolled your eyes at the pair, crossing your arms over your chest. Alright, show time.

Your POV

Being on the Moby Dick was more fun than you’d like to admit. The ship was huge, you’d never been on anything remotely as big before. You walked up to Whitebeard, introduced yourself and thanked him for taking you to your research outpost.

“My pleasure, child,” said the World’s Strongest Man. “Was it you who poisoned my son?”

“Depends which one,” you replied, shrugging. “I only poisoned Marco, Ace poisoned himself.” You weren’t cowed by his presence or ashamed of your actions, and you saw no reason to pretend to be.

“GURAHAHAHAHA, a woman with spirit, I can see why my son likes you. Enjoy your time aboard the ship child.”

“Thank you, sir.” You blushed and moseyed off, knowing you’d been dismissed. You took out your binoculars, sea birds were something you had interest in but rarely got to see. You were hoping to see a New World Albatross to check it off your list. You’d become somewhat of a celebrity in the birding world, if such a thing existed. Your paper on the Phoenix, which had included 10 pages of diagrams and figures, was an overnight success in the scientific community. The information had made its way to the World Government, but they weren’t very interested in your calculations of the density of Marco’s bones. You knew there were some grumblings that you had slept with Marco to get the information, but you didn’t care. Let people think what they wanted, even if it wasn’t true. You were on your way with Etta to an island that had beetles only found on the small, sandy location. Since there were unique beetles, there were also unique birds, and you were hoping for an extended study on new colonies that had developed there.

It wasn’t an easy choice to be friends with Etta again. After the pirates had left you didn’t talk to her for almost a month. You were so upset by her betrayal, you promised yourself you wouldn’t ever speak to her again. She tried to come by a few times but you didn’t open the door to her. Eventually, you did decide to reach out, just because you wanted some closure. It was an emotional conversation between the two of you, with both of you crying by the end of it. You listened to her and understood why she did what she did, but the reasons didn’t make it hurt less. The conversation ended on okay terms, but you weren’t sure the friendship would be rekindled.

Etta had ended up becoming very interested in beetles after meeting Ace. She spent months learning and researching and had pursued higher studies. She sought you out every so often for clarification and it had slowly brought you back together. It took a lot of work between the two of you to get to where you could spend time together. Things weren’t the same as they were before, but they were mending and you had enough respect for her scientific enthusiasm to spend time on an island together. With the time you’d be spending as scientists together, you were feeling hopeful that the two of you might be friends again.

Your research was how the two of you ended up on the Moby Dick. You’d wanted to pay for passage on a merchant vessel to your scientific venture, but Etta had asked Ace in one of her letters. Ace said they were heading the same way, it wouldn’t be out of their way to pick you up and drop you off. If you were going to be traveling with pirates, you might as well travel with the strongest of them all. You’d have no trouble with shifty merchants or other pirates along the way, that was for sure. So you’d accepted and found yourself on Whitebeard’s ship, once again with Marco The Phoenix.

“So, how has business been going yoi?” Marco asked. Even after your article had been published, you continued to write letters back and forth with Marco. At first it was purely business, sending him the article and thanking him for coming to your lecture. But it had turned into a friendship of sorts, like pen pals. Ok, it was more than friendship. As the months went on and you exchanged more letters, you became more attached to the bird. Your day brightened immensely when you got one of his letters and you read them over and over again. You’d shared personal details and drawings with Marco in your correspondence as he shared more of himself. You’d told him how you hadn’t gone back to the restaurant, instead starting your own business of drawing caricatures of tourists. You made quite a bit of money, more than you’d ever made waitressing. Your pictures were often insulting but people loved them and bought them as souvenirs. You were known for making portraits of people looking like birds - either ones they selected or ones you thought they looked like.

“Really well, actually. I was finally able to buy a better dehydrator, which I’ve been wanting for a long time.” You still loved pineapple and had dehydrated crates worth for your trip into the wilderness. You hoped Marco didn’t dig into it before you got to your destination.

“Good, good.” Marco seemed to be having some hesitation, like he was holding himself back. You didn’t remember Marco being awkward, he had always been smooth before. Well, whatever. There were literally a thousand other people on board to entertain yourself with, even if they were pirates. Maybe you’d find that really good looking guy from the first time you’d met.

“Where can I drop my stuff?” you said, tapping your pack with your toe.

“Oh, you can put it in my room for now,” Marco replied, picking it up for you.

“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?” You weren’t exactly sure what you and Marco would be up to tonight, but you didn’t want to assume anything. A tiny part of you hoped something did, but you also liked giving Marco shit. You’d be on the ship for a few weeks, the island wasn’t close to where you were located. There would be plenty of time for things to develop between you and Marco, if they did at all.

“How rude! Dart him again!” cheered a man you recognized from the restaurant. He still had that pompadour, that was his normal look? You rolled your eyes.

“Eh, not right now. But if you want to see someone poisoned, you can try it out,” you replied. He paled and you laughed. Marco led you to the stairs, taking you down to put your things in his room. You peeked in while he set them down on an overstuffed chair. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it was neat and orderly, with a few mementos from his travels. His desk was a little less organized, with papers scattered all over the surface. And in the back corner, a framed picture you remembered vividly. Busting in, you grabbed it off his desk.

“I can’t believe you kept this!” you said, looking over the drawing. It was the sketch you’d made of him as a bird - before you’d known he was the Phoenix. The figure you’d drawn was much smaller and cuter than his actual bird form, but you stood by it still. Marco plucked it from you, almost like he was embarrassed.

“I like it yoi,” was all he said, putting it back on his desk. He adjusted it so it sat just so on his desk, like things had to be in a certain order. “Let’s go back on deck, I’m sure the party will be getting started soon.”

“Party?”

And indeed, there was a party in your honor. Well, you couldn’t be sure it was in your honor, it seemed like these pirates needed little reason to party. Still, it was the largest party you’d ever been invited to. You hung around Marco, and later Etta and Ace once they resurfaced from whatever they were doing. You were chit chatting with the crew members, surprising yourself for being so casual with pirates. They had been asking you about your business venture outside of your scientific curiosities.

“But why insulting drawings?” asked the World’s Prettiest Man Izou, still dressed in Wano inspired clothing. Now why couldn’t he have been the Phoenix? You would have forgiven him much sooner.

“People pay more for insulting caricatures,” you said, shrugging. “People seem to like it when I rip on them, I don’t know why.” You’d brought sketching supplies naturally, but didn’t want to waste them on stupid drawings of pirates. “I can draw some for you guys if you have pencils.”

“GURAHAHAHAHA, an excellent likeness!” You’d given the Captain a drawing of himself with a crescent beard that echoed the way his mustache looked. He was White beard, but you didn’t want to draw anything too insulting. It would be no fun if you were stomped to death before you’d even made it to your destination. You’d been drawing the pirates all evening, to their intense amusement. You’d drawn Haruta as a Tontatta, Namur as a mermaid, Kingdew as a bumblebee, and Fossa smiling, among others. They loved seeing the finished product and multiple beers had been ejected through noses after you’d shown the final results.

“Draw more! Just one more!” cheered Thatch. He’d been especially taken with the drawings after you’d drawn one of him as a loaf of bread.

“No, no. I’m done for now with you lot,” you said, handing the clipboard back to Thatch. The crowd booed you.

“Enough yoi. She said she’s done,” Marco said, in a tone that held no room for arguing. He was radiating little wisps of fire, like he was ready to defend your honor. The crowd was still booing but was dispersing. Marco had been hanging out near you all night, almost like he was nervous to leave you alone. He was good company though, and you enjoyed talking with him in person rather than over the mail. “Would you like me to show you to the guest room?” Marco asked. You were tired of being at the party, but not that tired. You didn’t like playing games, you just did what you thought felt right. Besides, you weren’t stupid, you knew the Moby Dick hadn’t been going in the direction of a random unnamed scientific outpost.

You hummed in response. “I’m not tired just yet, I’d rather complete some research. There’s one component I’m still missing,” you said cryptically.

Marco raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What component yoi?”

“The effects of endorphin release upon the Phoenix,” you deadpanned. You thought you heard the start of a bird song but Marco cleared his throat instead. He leaned against the railing of the deck on one forearm, bringing his face closer to yours.

Marco laughed lightly. “Oh? And will your findings be published?” Marco asked, leaning over and caging you against the railing with his body.

“No, this is more for personal education,” you replied with a smirk, tilting your head towards his.

“Well, we must satisfy your curiosity yoi. What kind of endorphin release did you have in mind? Meditation? Exercise? Eating spicy food?”

“Something like that,” you replied. You grabbed the front of his open shirt and pulled his face to yours, kissing him deeply. Marco kissed you back, leaning you back against the railing of the deck. You distantly heard cheers from the crew, but couldn’t be bothered to care. Besides, you didn’t have enough darts to shoot them all.

Marco POV

If the skinny dipping didn’t do it, and the poison didn’t do it, this would certainly be Marco’s end. Marco the man was fine with kissing on the deck in front of the crew, they all did it from time to time. The Phoenix, however, was ready for heads to roll. It didn’t want any potential rivals seeing your romance, it wanted your mate DATE safely within Marco’s room before anything happened. Marco had already been riding a thin line all night. He knew he had no business telling you what to do and who to interact with, but there was no calming the Phoenix. It wanted you all to itself, away from all his siblings. The whole night his hand was itching to throw you over his shoulder and take you below deck. He’d nearly done it when Thatch had made you laugh at some stupid joke, but had held himself back at the last moment. Now he wasn’t sure he could. The whoops coming from the deck had his eye twitching.

“Would you like to continue this experiment elsewhere?” Marco whispered into your ear. You shivered at the feeling of his stubble on your cheek.

“In your nest?” you whispered back mischievously. Marco nipped your ear as a reply. This time, he did throw you over his shoulder, causing you to laugh. He stalked off towards the stairs, causing even more whooping from his brothers. Marco knew they’d tease him at a later time, but he wasn’t thinking about that. At that moment, all he cared about was hearing your laughter, feeling you in his arms, and knowing that he’d have a few weeks to spend with you on the Moby. And he could always come visit you at your outpost, one of the benefits of having wings. Phoenix and man were united, excited for the future with their favorite birdwatcher.

#bird watching with a bird #op x y/n #marco the phoenix #marco op #epilogue #whitebeard crew

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carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich · 1 year ago

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Diaboy Yandere Quiz Results

So if you haven't taken my "which one of the diabolik lovers boys would go yandere for you?" quiz, you might want to do that before reading the rest of this post. If you have taken the quiz and are curious as to what the other results are like but don't want to retake said quiz 14 times, then this post is for you! Below the cut are the yandere!diaboy x reader drabbles for every diaboy + Karl that I wrote for the quiz.

Quick warning: These drabbles feature dark content including themes of imprisonment, torture, blackmail and stalking.

Combined these results have a total word count of 3.4k :') If you enjoy them, let me know which one is your favourite!

Shuu

You’re crying again. You’re not being loud about it but from where you’re currently splayed half on top of him—the heat of you warming his bones in lieu of the fireplace he refuses to light—it would be impossible for him not to notice the faint trembling of your body and the growing wet patch on his shoulder. There isn’t any point in saying much when you’re like this, which is somewhat ironic when you’re the only person he’d even consider putting the effort in for. Instead he shifts slightly, moving his arm over you so you’re more securely held against him while the other slips out one of his earbuds and places it into your ear instead. He’s not stupid, he knew what dragging you to the other side of the world—far away from everything you’d ever known—would do to you, but if he’s honest with himself he’d do it again in a heartbeat. It was your own fault, in a way, for making him care, for making the fear when he saw the way Reiji looked at you sharp enough to cut through the numbness he’d lived with for so long. Yes, it was you who’d sought him out in the first place, so no matter how miserable you might be now, you only had yourself to blame.

Reiji

The tea in your cup is poisoned. You’re sure of it, even without the faint bitterness tainting the delicate aroma, you can tell from the look in Reiji’s eyes alone—you’ve seen it often enough. The question is what concoction he’s prepared for you this time; whether he’s decided he’d rather you be numb and pliant or feverish with want. Still, you do not break your composure, remaining the image of grace as you lift the cup to your mouth. The tight corset your captor has forced upon is not nearly as constricting as the way he watches you, his own cup left ignored on the table. Months ago you’d have scoffed at the idea of someone willing drinking poisoned tea, but now you are aware the consequences if you do not will be far worse than whatever toxins he’s prepared for you. He won’t kill you, you don’t think, not when the way he looks at you can only be described as obsessive. You used to think it came from his desire to mold you into his ideal of a perfect partner, but now you’re not so sure. Sometimes, when you catch him watching you while you’re supposed to be asleep, you wonder if just maybe he simply wants you. A pity for him then, that no matter how many restraints he binds you with or drugs he pours down your throat, you will ensure your heart remains forever out of his reach.

Ayato

Blood always tastes at its best when the person being drunk from enjoys it. It’s something Ayato figured out after the old bastard let them loose in the human world, the occasional sacrificial bride being ferried in to keep them from causing enough trouble to attract unwanted attention. But no blood has ever tasted as sweet as yours when you’re pinned down beneath him, whimpering in the ecstasy of having your lifeblood drained away and mixing with his. He draws away only briefly to take note of your expression, eyes screwed up with tears of pleasure brewing at the corners. You look amazing like this, even better than you had in the cute little cheerleading outfit you’d worn to school sports games, back before he’d had his first taste of you. You’d screamed the first time, your usual bright enthusiasm falling off your features as you’d realized what he was. And yet you’d still come to your practice the very next day, a brightly coloured band-aid on your neck to hide the marks. When he’d come back for a second bite, you’d only struggled a little—enough to keep things interesting, but not so much that you could fool him into thinking you were actually trying to get away. No, you want to be here, he’s certain of it, and he’s generous enough to keep you.

Kanato

You’re alone again today. Sitting perfectly still, empty bento box in your lap, eyes shut as you listen to a soft melodic tune through your headphones. You look lovely like this, the moonlight filtering through the window painting the planes of your face a silvery hue. It's only the fact you look so peaceful—almost like one of his wax dolls—that keeps Kanato from tearing your headphones away. He will, once he's had enough of watching you like this, and he knows from your previous encounters that the wide-eyed expression you’ll make is almost as good as the one you wear now. The still healing marks from his fangs peek out from the collar of your white school shirt and the corner of his lips twist. You’ve not told any of your schoolmates of any of your encounters, he’s certain of it from how closely he’s been watching you. If anything, you’ve isolated yourself even further than you already were, only briefly exchanging pleasantries in that barely there voice of yours he’s grown so fond of. The air stirs faintly, a gentle breeze through a cracked open window, and you open your eyes. The fear is immediate as you take in his face, close enough to yours that you should have been able to feel his breath—if he had any need to breathe. He does now, to take in the scent of your terror, and it is oh so very sweet.

Laito

Laito has broken so many mortal things, he’s long since lost count. He can’t even remember what all of them looked like, but he does remember the expressions on their faces in their final moments—fervent devotion, desperation and sometimes just pure madness. You, however, he’s had for months, and yet the light has yet to fade from your eyes despite his very best efforts. Sometimes you even look at him with pity—likely due to what you’ve put together of his history from the scraps of it scattered over the manor—though those days have grown less frequently since he made your move to his room a permanent affair. Now when you look at him, it’s mostly filled with a hatred that burns brighter than any emotion he’s ever had from his other lovers. It’s intoxicating, more so than even your blood. Laito’s not sure when exactly he stopped wanting anyone else to see it—or when he stopped wanting anything else for that matter. He thinks you feel the same way, that you’d like nothing more than to see him dead, enough that it keeps the spark inside of you burning bright. You’d confessed to believing in love once in the early days and he’d laughed at you for it. Even now the memory makes him scoff, for the love you spoke of that day could never possibly compare to this.

Subaru

You get the impression you’re being watched. It’s subtle at first, a small movement at the corner of your eye that vanishes as soon as you turn towards it. A faint prickle on the back of your neck every so often when you walk through the hallway. It doesn’t take long for things to escalate, until you can no longer shake the feeling of eyes on you almost everywhere you go. You think there’s something else going on too, the underclassman who you could have sworn had a crush on you now refuses to so much as look at you and he’d gone running like the devil himself was on his tail when you’d tried to approach him. Other people around you have started behaving weirdly too, a strange hush following you wherever you go, your fellow students going out of their way to avoid jostling you when you have move classrooms between lessons. There is one constant in all of this, and you’re starting to wonder if he might somehow be responsible for it. Subaru Sakamaki, despite the prestige of his father’s name, has the air of someone who’s had a difficult life. You’d decided to make an effort to be kind to him when you’d first noticed it, not necessarily going out of your way to hunt him down, but to grant him a little more patience and understanding than you might normally. He’s currently the only person who hasn’t started acting like you’ve contracted some horrible contagious disease, but you do catch him looking at you strangely sometimes. The moment he notices and immediately turns away are the few occasions you no longer feel watched. His expression in those moments is a bit like someone caught between wanting something but feeling conflicted over whether or not they should have it. And for some reason, the thought that he may eventually make up his mind fills you with nothing but dread.

Ruki

You’re being difficult again. It’s not that Ruki had believed you were past this stage—far from it in fact—but he had thought the punishment you’d received in your last session with him might have at least served as a temporary reminder to not push his limits again so soon. He knows the wounds have yet to properly heal from the faint trace of your blood that blossoms in the air whenever you move in a way that strains the skin of your back—and yet still you insist on running your mouth. Ruki regards you coldly for a moment. Back when he’d first met you, he might have mistaken the look on your face for defiance, but now he takes note of how brightly your eyes shine, the faint tremble of your lower lip. You’re lashing out because you’re afraid, like a cornered animal that hasn’t yet learnt not to bite the hand that feeds. He closes his book and places it to the side, not missing the way you try to hide your flinch as he stands up. There need to be consequences for this type of behaviour, there’s no point in putting this much effort into your training if not, but rather feeling annoyed, Ruki finds himself almost pleased at the prospect. For as much as your insolence grinds, there’s something about the way your tough façade breaks almost as soon as he gets started—and in the way you fall apart under his hands with the sting of antiseptic that follows. You cling to him sometimes, half delirious with pain, and it’s those moments he finds he savours the most.

Kou

Kou chuckles as you cling onto his arm, still unused to the heels he’d forced you into before you left the mansion. It’s honestly pretty cute, although not as cute as the way you keep glancing around anxiously, convinced that at any moment now his fans will appear around the corner and start baying for your blood. That same fear, however, is the only reason you’re here in the first place—his demand in return for not posting staged pictures of the two of you tangled together online. You’re actually doing pretty well all things considered, you even manage to flash him a wobbling smile when he tells you about the café he’s taking you to. Kou can’t quite decide what he likes most about about your little arrangement—that you’ve gotten good enough at acting that he can almost pretend you’re on a date with him because you want to be, or that the scent of your fear in the air tells him is doesn’t really matter because he has you right in the palm of his hand.

Yuma

Yuma’s used to people being intimidated by him. If not for his stature, and it usually is, then the way he speaks is often enough to set those around him slightly on edge. Not you though. No, the first time you meet, you look him dead in the eye without a hint of any sort of fear in your face. It’s not a judging look either, more of an assessment, that you realize he is used to being one of the biggest people in the room but that will carry no weight with you. It feels more like a challenge than anything else, and he feels the tips of one of fangs peek out from where the corner of his lip curls into a smirk. You never show fear when you look at him in any of your subsequent meetings either, even when you really should—like now, when he’s keeping your hands secured above your head with only the sheer weight of him. You're not stupid enough to put up a real fight, not when you can already feel the strain on your bones from his grip, but you are stubborn. And the defiance in your face even when you’re pinned helplessly just makes your blood taste all the sweeter for it.

Azusa

It had been an accident, the first time you’d pushed him down the stairs. You’d been in a rush, running late to one of your classes, when you’d tripped over your own feet, the hand you threw out to steady yourself slamming into the back of someone you hadn’t realized was there. All you could do was watch with a look of horror as the figure lost their balance and fell right down the otherwise abandoned stairwell. Perhaps you should have registered there was something wrong then, when instead of crying or getting angry at you or having any sort of normal response to being shoved down a set of stairs, Azusa—as you’d later come to find out his name was—had simply sat up and stared up at you like you were some kind of god. The second time you’d pushed Azusa down the stairs was less of an accident. He hadn’t left you alone after the first unfortunate incident and no amount of apologizing or promises it wouldn’t happen again were enough to get rid of him. One day, he’d managed to corner you after the ring of the final bell, standing so close you could feel an eerie coldness emanating from his body, and you felt the final threads of your patience snap. In truth, you hadn’t registered how close you were to those wretched stairs—too focused on the primitive part of your brain that screamed to get away from the strange boy—and thus, the quick short shove you gave him was enough to send him tumbling a second time. You’d stood there, frozen, as he slowly sat up, a rivulet of blood trailing down his face from where he must have knocked his head on the way down. And yet the injury was not the most appalling part of the scene. No, that right was reserved for the look of pure adoration in his eyes, directed straight at you.

Carla

You’re too kind for your own good. It’s something Carla’s become painfully aware of over the months he’s known you. At first he’d believed you were simply frightened by him, acting on his wishes to avoid his wrath as so many others had done in the past. But he’s familiar with the scent of your fear now and it is not fear you feel when you check on him after hearing the Endzeit-induced coughs from his room or when you make dishes with cured ham for him after he let slip that he was fond of it. It is a weakness, he thinks, but one he could perhaps tolerate if simply reserved for him. It is not however, anyone who crosses your path is greeted with your good nature and it eats at Carla’s insides far more than the disease rotting his blood. He is the Founder King, he should be able to have what he wants. And he will have you, all of you, so that no one else ever will.

Shin

Shin knows you like him, at least, he’s nearly certain of it. Because despite the hell he’d put you through after you first met, you’d still ended up hanging around him. The once fear-filled look on face whenever you saw him slowly becoming resigned until, at some point, your gaze had started to turn heated. For Shin’s part, you’d only been a bit of idle amusement at first, someone to terrorize whenever the frustration of his and Carla’s situation got to be too much. Eventually, however, your interactions had gone from being a way to pass the time to something he looked forward to; a wolf anticipating a meal. It was the first time he’d noticed the look of want in your eyes that he’d started to feel the same. So then why? If you want him, why does he never quite feel like he has you? His initial conclusion had been that it was something to do with Carla, that you were trying to pull one over on him to cosy up to the Founder King. But no amount of stalking from you from the shadows or checking on your scent every time he saw you had revealed that anything was going on between the two of you. If anything, you actively avoid his brother—Shin’s only ever seen you in the same room together when he himself is present. Perhaps you’re still hung up on how your relationship started, some part of you yet to forgive him for all the things he did to you. Or maybe, you’re doing it on purpose. After all, you’ve seen enough of his wolf form to know that when something runs away, there’s always an instinctive drive to chase.

Kino

Kino makes it seem like a coincidence when he runs into you outside of the local games arcade. You have no need to know he’d seen your social media post featuring a photo of a popular new café, the one opposite the shop he’d lingered in, waiting to stage this particular encounter. He’s done it a couple of times now—pulling at the strings attached to you to arrange these chance meetings. A couple of months ago he could never have imagined putting this much effort into a single human, especially one who wasn’t the Vampire Lord’s chosen Eve, but now it's turned into a game of sorts—to what degree can he entangle you in this web before you start to notice. It’s going well so far, you think him a simple classmate who’s a regular in the area—you’ve even given him your ID for a couple of the games you have on your phone. Tonight’s looking to be a lot of fun too. In just a couple of minutes, the friend you’d been hanging out with will get a call from their mother who should have just received a selection of pictures showing her precious darling skipping the cram school she paid oh so much money for. The friend will likely get called home—a shame, Kino will say, with a smile on his lips, but there’s no reason he and you can’t still have some fun before the night is over.

Karlheinz

Under any other circumstances, the scene before you would have had you swooning. A meal not out of place in a Michelin star restaurant laid out beautifully before you on top of an intricately carved antique table with possibly the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on seated at the opposite end to you, swirling a glass full of a rich, red liquid. The view out of the floor to ceiling windows is spectacular, a sky full of stars and a view of the forest and various small towns far below. Except these are not other circumstances, and the man who sits, watching you carefully as you cut into your food is none other than the Vampire King himself—and you are quite certain that it’s not wine that sits in his cup. The view is no comfort either, not when you know you are looking out over the demon world, a place that you’re sure would be quite hostile to you if not for the protection of the man keeping you here. Not that you’d gotten any real chance to see it save for the view from the castle you hadn’t left once in the months since you’d arrived here. You tell if the complete lack of any sort of guard makes you feel better or worse, on one hand at least you’re not followed everywhere, but on the other hand, the fact Karlheinz is powerful enough to keep you here without them makes the odds of escape seem slim.

#my writing #diabolik lovers #Shuu Sakamaki #Reiji Sakamaki #Ayato Sakamaki #Kanato Sakamaki #Laito Sakamaki #Subaru Sakamaki #Ruki Mukami #Kou Mukami #Yuma Mukami #Azusa Mukami #Carla Tsukinami #Shin Tsukinami #Kino #Karlheinz #I think results are also slight spoilers for what personality types are likely to get what result #so do take the quiz before reading this!

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puck-luck · 11 months ago

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co-eds | mattias samuelsson & jack quinn

warnings: dom!ms, sub!jq & sub!fem!reader, threesome (mmf!), teasing, humiliation, degradation, praise, fingering (f!receiving), head (m & f receiving), multiple orgasms, use of sex toys, references to voyeurism/listening in, uhhhhhhh that's all i can think of but like they do literally everything but have actual penis in vagina sex (don't worry it's still hot) pairing: mattias samuelsson x fem!reader x jack quinn summary: based on the prompt "I'd 100,000% fall in love with Mattias if he was like my friend's roommate and I was watching them play Mario on the couch" but then turned into best friend's roommate which then turned into "oh wait these bitches are soooo homoerotic... this needs to be poly like ferris bueller" wc: 10555

The first time you met Mattias, it was the third day of classes of your sophomore year and your best friend from freshman year, one Mr. Jack Quinn, had invited you to his new house for a housewarming dinner. You had gotten yourself dolled up– jeans rather than your normal sweats– and driven to the parking lot closest to their place before walking the rest of the way.

Mattias had swung the door open and looked you up and down, making you do a double take at his large frame filling the doorway.

“Hi,” he greeted, his Joker-ish smile crossing his face.

“Hi,” you replied. “Is Jack here?”

Mattias took you in again, then stepped aside so that you could enter the house. “He’s in the kitchen,” Mattias told you. He closed the door behind you, then collapsed on the couch in the living room like he’d been through a very hard day’s work.

That was four months ago– and plenty has changed.

Now, you’re a mainstay at the Quinn-Samuelsson house. You spend your evenings there, whether you’re studying, eating, or just hanging out. You often spend your nights and your mornings there, too– waking up in Mattias’ queen-sized bed, tangled up in his blankets because the boy is a restless sleeper and wrapped in his arms because, despite his restlessness, Mattias can barely stand when he’s not touching you.

It started out small– he would tease you for being smaller than him, comparing the size of your hands or sitting next to you on the couch during movie nights just close enough that your thigh was pressing against his. Then, he grew bolder– a hand on your knee when seated or at the small of your back when walking behind you. It all came to a head one night after a rowdy game of bar trivia, where you and Jack had stumbled back to the house arm-in-arm and laughing. Your laughter and ruckus had woken Mattias up and you were the bold one this time, wrapping your arms around his waist and smiling up at him.

“Hi, Tits,” you slurred kindly the first time you slept in his bed, using the nickname that you and Jack had concocted to talk about Mattias behind his back. It was all out in the open now– a side effect of your drunkenness. “You’re looking especially tall today.”

He had laughed out that breathless chuckle of his and hugged you back good-naturedly, then asked if you wanted to use his bed instead of the couch that night. You had agreed and after a copious amount of whining, Mattias had joined you instead of squeezing onto the couch in your place. Jack had long since gone to bed and you and Mattias had stayed up talking about nonsense. As the sun crested the horizon, his nose nudged against yours and you realized how close you were. There was still a little liquid courage left coursing through your veins and you blame that for the way you tipped your chin up and brushed against his lips.

It had been lazy and casual, a barely-friends with benefits situation that became more and more frequent until you were practically dependent on your dose of Mattias to get through the day.

The problem with your new relationship with Mattias is that Jack is starting to feel plenty neglected. You understand it and he doesn’t have to tell you that he’s missing you for you to notice– it’s all in his recent distance from you, how he sits across the room in the chair rather than on the couch with you and Mattias and how he keeps his hands securely in his pockets when you walk back from class or the library.

It’s really starting to bother you, but you can’t talk to Jack about it. He’ll just brush you off and say nothing is wrong, even though it so clearly is. Instead, you’re watching Mattias and Jack play a video game that doesn’t capture your interest– that, despite knowing that you came over today to hang out with Jack, is focused on Mattias’ long fingers, the ones that you’ve become well acquainted with since the first time you kissed him.

You have tried to tear your eyes away from the digits and even succeeded a few times, but your vision keeps wandering back. You blame the smooth, deep tone of Mattias’ voice, laughing at Jack each time his character gets killed or teasing him whenever he gets close to winning, but not close enough. Mattias has a habit of using the same tone to tease you, especially when his fingers are prodding at your insides or your lips are wrapped around his cock.

Tonight is about your friendship with Jack, you remind yourself again. He’s the whole reason you even know Mattias and even more than that, he’s your best friend. You adore Jack, even when he’s bitching and whining and moaning about something petulant or putting off his homework until you relent and shove yours across the table for him to copy. He’s the best person you’ve met since starting college and you never thought that you’d be one of those girls that abandons their friends as soon as they find a boy to fuck, but you’ve been acting that way lately. You feel guilty.

Even Mattias’ unimpressed eyes and quirked lips when you refuse to sit next to him can’t convince you to budge. You’re borderline ignoring the boy that has learned just how to push your buttons and make you scream, and he’s getting a kick out of it.

Jack is locked in on the game now, trying to capitalize on Mattias’ wandering eyes. He’s biting his bottom lip and evaluating the screen with unblinking eyes.

You’re so fond of him– he’s competitive, like you. He’s eager to prove himself and anxious to shine, which doesn’t manifest in your classes so much as when you’re around the house. He cooks and it’s always delicious. He doesn’t even mind doing the dishes afterward. What you know started as a class crush– and nothing more– has bloomed into a strong friendship that you wouldn’t trade for anything, not even Mattias.

Regardless of how Mattias drives you crazy, in the best way.

Despite his focus, Jack loses by a margin. Mattias’ bragging smile causes a flutter of butterflies to erupt in your stomach even if you’re shaking your head.

“It’s too easy,” Mattias says with a shrug. He tosses his controller onto the table in front of him and kicks his feet up, crossing his ankles and threading his fingers behind his head. The motion broadens his chest and accentuates his thighs, but once again, you refuse to be distracted.

“That’s okay, Jack.” You comfort him with a pat on his knee.

“He wins every time,” Jack complains, tossing his own controller onto the table and adjusting his hat on his head. He does it like a tic, you’ve noticed, when he’s frustrated. “He doesn’t even have to try.”

“Not just when it comes to games, eh?” Mattias teases the boy with a wink, knocking his shoulder against Jack’s before standing. He winks at you, too, then bids you both goodnight. He walks past you, stepping over Jack’s legs rather than taking the easy route, and ruffles your hair annoyingly when he does so.

You pout and try to fix your hair when he’s done, but you’re secretly pleased– you love how Mattias shows affection. He’s so loose with it, not generic at all, and it always makes you smile.

The tall, broad boy disappears up to his bedroom, leaving you with Jack. You turn towards him and throw your legs over his lap, the arm of the couch pressed against your middle back. Jack’s hand falls on your shin, his thumb rubbing over the skin.

“What was that about?” You ask. Mattias’ final gloat seemed pointed and specific, but you didn’t know that there was tension between the boys. Surely one of them would have told you.

“Dunno,” Jack replies. “He’s so fucking cryptic.”

“We can definitely agree on that,” you say with a laugh.

Jack smiles and you sit in silence for a minute. Jack’s touching you comfortably, but the motion makes your skin tickle a bit, sending a shiver up your body. You blame it on the residual butterflies that Mattias left behind, still fluttering in your stomach.

“Hey,” you say, breaking the silence.

Jack fixes you with a quizzical look. “Hey.” He raises an eyebrow, but he’s still smiling a bit. His thumb has stilled.

“I know you’ve told me a million times, but are you sure you’re okay with me and Mattias hooking up?” You ask with a self-deprecating tilt of your head, making sure you don’t break eye contact with the boy, even as he starts to duck his head.

“Everything’s fine, I swear,” Jack assures you. He holds out his pinky and you hook your pinky to it, kissing the tip of your thumb. He’s got a soft smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and once again, you know that he’s not quite telling the truth.

You don’t want to push. You don’t want to force him to tell you something he’s not ready to say, but something about the Mattias situation is bothering him.

“Okay,” you relent, matching his smile. “You’ll tell me if it starts bothering you, right? I’ll kick him to the curb. Girl code?”

Jack scoffs, rolling his eyes at your insinuation. “I’m not one of the girls,” he grumbles.

“You like drama more than I do,” you point out.

Jack doesn’t have a smart reply for that, so he just stays silent. You laugh, then the air between you fades to silence again. This time, Jack moves your legs and stands.

“I’m gonna go to bed, too,” he says. “I bet Titty is waiting for you.”

“Yeah, probably.” You take Jack’s outstretched hand and he pulls you up. “He needs to wait sometimes. It keeps him humble.”

You’re walking towards the stairs and Jack gestures for you to go ahead. “You know, if you don’t hurry, he might fall asleep without you.” He follows you up the steps, footsteps quiet and sneaky like every other day.

“Always looking out for me,” you praise at the top of the stairs, at the fork in the road. Jack’s bedroom is to the left, near the shared bathroom, and Mattias’ is on the right. “See you in the morning, J.”

“Not if I see you first.”

You split up and you lightly knock on Mattias’ bedroom door before slipping through the crack he left open for you. You shed your sweats and pull on one of Mattias’ t-shirts, the one he wore earlier today. You crawl under the covers next to his warm body and he slings an arm over your waist to pull you closer.

“Good talk with Twos?” Mattias murmurs, his eyes closed and voice already drowsy. You hate how he can fall asleep so easily, but you love the scratchy quality his voice adopts late at night. It’s the best when his mouth is positioned right next to your ear and he’s telling you how tight you feel.

You have to shake the thought away. “Do you think Jack’s acting weird?” You ask, drawing an invisible line up his sternum, between his fleshy pecs that you love to poke until he flexes them and takes all his softness away.

Mattias snorts, laughing. “Of course he is,” he tells you. “He’s jealous.”

You lurch back, curling your lip and frowning up at Mattias. He blinks his eyes open to look down at you, mostly because of your movement and not because of what he said. He spoke like it was a known fact, that Jack was jealous.

“Of what?” You wonder.

“Of me, dude.” Mattias’ chest rumbles with the words and you tsk at the bro-y nickname. He continues on without acknowledging your distaste. “Jealous that I get to do this and he doesn’t.” He pushes your shirt up, cupping your breast and squeezing.

“No, he’s not,” you deny. “He’s never acted like that. It can’t be jealousy.”

Mattias chuckles. “It can and it is,” he insists. “You wanna know how I know?”

You’re stunned for a second by the glint in his hooded eyes and the way his teeth are barely biting down on his lower lip. He raises his eyebrows when you don’t respond, just a quick quirk that draws your attention.

You shrug, letting your eyes drift back to his lips. Usually, by now, you’ve kissed them. It’s getting harder to resist, especially when Mattias leans forward until you’re going cross-eyed to get an actual look at him.

“The other day, I was going to get a towel from the bathroom to clean you up after–” he fully bites his lip and winks. “– and I overheard a little something from Jack’s room. It sounded… oddly like your name, so I asked him about it.”

“You did not.”

“And after some pressing, he told me that he’d had a little crush on you last semester, but you were soooo nice that he never found the right time to make a move.” Mattias’ voice is hushed and teasing, smug like he’s bragging over another win in their video games. “And then you found your way to me.”

It’s a lot to process, but Mattias is leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your lips. When he releases you and gets comfortable again, the cogs are still turning in your head. His eyes are closed when you speak.

“Possessive much?”

Mattias trembles with a laugh, pulling you closer and bringing your leg over his hip. “Don’t need to be possessive. He doesn’t stand a chance when I’m fucking you.”

“Maybe he does– maybe you need to learn how to share,” you say, your tone twisting with the implication.

Mattias’ eyes flash open and his breath is no longer slow and consistent like it’s reaching for sleep. “What?”

“Maybe,” you repeat, touching your front teeth with the tip of your tongue for the added suspense. You cuddle into Mattias’ chest, your lips barely an inch from his, and continue. “You need to learn how to share.” You pull away and reveal your own smug, braggadocious smile, daring him.

Like you said– Jack had been your class crush first, way before you met Mattias.

“Are you serious?” Mattias asks, incredulous.

“Well, this is casual, isn’t it?” You tease. “It’s not like we’re exclusive. I’d love to see Jack’s face when I make a move on him if he’s so jealous of you, hm?”

Mattias frowns, about to say something, but you cut him off.

You tilt your head coyly and bat your eyelashes at him. “Or… well, nevermind.” You turn over in his arms and press your hips back against his lap.

“Or… what?” Mattias probes, his fingertips dancing across your stomach and the waistband of your panties. “You started that sentence, now you have to finish it. Those are the rules.”

“If you can’t bear to share me with Jack, maybe you should join us,” you say, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. You’re faking the ease– the idea of having both Jack and Mattias in the same bed lights a fire between your legs unlike anything you’ve experienced before. “Make sure he’s doing it right…?”

You hoped that your words would set him off, knowing that despite his chill demeanor, Mattias is a perfectionist, a competitor, and a possessive partner. He’s bossy and dominant, positively eager to please and he loves to make sure that you’re feeling as content as possible in his bed.

“You want… both of us?” Mattias asks. You can practically hear him narrowing his eyes as he speaks. “Really? Am I not good enough for you?” His question grows teasing at the end, which is how you know he’s considering it.

“You love to rag on him during games,” you drawl, wiggling your hips against him. Mattias releases a groan as you do so, rubbing his fingers over the skin just above your waistband. His other hand sneaks under your body and up your shirt. He tweaks your nipple as means of ‘teaching you a lesson’ for grinding against him, but it only increases your ministrations. “Imagine, Ti, how much fun you’d have, showing him how good you are at making me come.”

The praise always gets him– always. Today is no different. As you roll your behind against his length, you can feel him growing. So, you keep talking.

“At making me whimper, at making me beg…” You lick your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to see me squirm under him, even though I’m moaning your name?”

“Jesus, fuck,” Mattias groans, untangling his arms from your figure and rolling off the bed. You turn to face him, pulling the covers up to your chest and smiling from ear to ear. You can see the bulge in his pants now that your eyes are well-adjusted to the darkness.

“Where are you going?” You ask, choking back a laugh. You’re delighted, but your stomach is rolling with the possibilities that the night holds. You know Mattias is going to get Jack, but you’re always a little bratty and sassy, so you can’t help yourself.

“Be right back,” Mattias promises before opening the bedroom door and slipping through it, disappearing down the hall and leaving you in the bed that smells like him.

In the time he’s gone, you’re at war with yourself– do you take his shirt off and speed things along, playing with your tits to give them a show when they return, or do you leave Mattias’ shirt on and allow Jack to take it off of you?

You decide on a mixture of the two– you push your shirt up just enough that your stomach is exposed. You can get a hand on yourself and you knead one of your breasts, allowing your fingers to tease circles around your nipple but never pinching or twisting it the way Mattias does.

You can hear him down the hall, rapping on Jack’s door and impatiently telling Jack to come to his bedroom. You can hear Jack, confused and frustrated that he has to get out of bed after getting comfortable. He follows Mattias’ directions– of course he does, he acts like Mattias hung the moon– and with each step closer to where you lay, you feel yourself growing damper and damper.

Your legs are spread under the covers, just wide enough that Mattias could climb between them if he chose to do so. It’s the normal position you assume when he leaves you alone. There’s very little that Mattias likes more than seeing you ready for him, inviting him in with your stretched limbs. The edge of the sheet lays just over the expanse of your hips, leaving plenty to be revealed when the boys burst in.

Mattias, ever the gentleman, opens the door for Jack and holds it open for him.

“Why am I–” Jack starts to ask, but then his eyes lock on you. “Oh.” He gawks for a second, allowing himself to enjoy the view, then catches himself. “What– what?” When he repeats himself, he turns to face Mattias, and it makes the taller boy laugh.

“Come on, Twos,” Mattias persuades, stepping through the doorway and passing Jack, who is planted in one spot like he’s rooted in a stone. Mattias clambers onto the bed, uncoordinated because of his size but somehow graceful in the way he settles next to you. He places his hand on your abdomen, pinky and ring finger brushing over the little bow on the front of your panties. He traces it absent-mindedly, staring at the boy who’s surprised and backlit from the hall light. You wish you could see his face better, especially when Mattias continues. “Time to live up to your nickname.”

His words plant a spark inside of you, one that only grows as he dips his fingers even lower. He traces over the wet spot that’s growing between your legs. Jack watches on– you can see his eyes move although you can’t make out the look on his face, and his presence draws a noise out of you. Then, you find your words– even as Mattias makes it harder with more insistent presses.

“Mattias said you never knew when the right time was to make your move,” you announce. “Now’s the time, Jack.”

He’s still rooted there. He even turns toward the door for a second, looking out into the hall like you’re talking to some other Jack that snuck into the house and wanted a threesome.

If you weren’t so desperate, you’d laugh.

“You heard her,” Mattias reinforces, calling Jack’s attention back to the sight in front of him. “Look how wet she is, Jack. She’s wet because she was thinking of you– well, and me, and what we could do with her.”

He’s too proud to attribute your wetness completely to Jack. Whereas you won’t laugh at Jack’s hesitation, you do roll your eyes at Mattias, which is an action that earns you a pinch on your clit. It’s equally as jarring as it is pleasureful and you’re reeling.

Jack’s posture changes in a way that you can’t describe– it’s incredulous, maybe? A little bit like he’s not sure if he’s in a dream, where he’s not sure if he can move or if he’s being tormented by a complete inability to do anything but watch.

He still doesn’t make a move and it’s bothering you– you want to insist and call out his name to get his attention, to make sure he’s not in another realm entirely. You open your mouth, planning to sound sharp and pointed, and as you start to speak, Mattias pets his thumb over your clit. Your glare becomes relaxed and your indignant “Jack” transforms into a wanton-sounding moan of his name.

It’s the complete opposite of what you described to Mattias earlier, but he doesn’t seem to care. Or maybe he’s letting it slide just this once, just because it serves its purpose all too well.

Jack finally takes a step forward. He lifts his foot and tugs at his sock, throwing it across the room, then doing the same with the other. He kicks the door closed behind him, putting you back into darkness and you pray for your eyes to adjust to the change faster. You want to see him. You need to know how his eyes look when he’s inches away from something he hoped for, but never quite received.

You want to see desperation on his face because you want to know that he feels the same way you do. With Mattias, you seldom see desperation. He’s all half-lidded eyes and gravelly words whispered as a means of caressing you further, overwhelming your senses in every way he can. You’re the one pulling at his clothes or scratching over his back, pleading for more.

Lucky for you, once Jack makes it to the edge of the bed, he can’t seem to keep his hands away from you. His fingers circle your ankle over the covers, his other hand pulling his shorts down until he’s just left in his underwear. At that point, he starts to shuffle his way up your body, walking on his knees. He’s straddling you, legs on either side of yours, palms sliding across your thighs, then hips, then waist.

You finally can see the look on his face. He’s memorizing you in a reverent way, like he can’t believe you’re real and he’s getting to touch you. His eyes search your skin for details that he can file away for later, his thumb brushing over a freckle that you had forgotten about as the breath leaves his lungs. He melts above you, the corners of his lips turning up in a giddy smile. He laughs for a moment to himself, barely expelling any air or sound when he does so. Then, his eyes finally meet yours.

His pupils are swollen, bigger than you’ve ever seen them. You hold eye contact for only a moment before Jack’s gaze drifts to your lips, where they stay. Once again, he hesitates. Your own eyes find his lips, plush and parted, glistening like he just licked them. You’re certainly not going to make another first move, having already moaned out Jack’s name without him even touching you– it’s his turn, you stubbornly decide.

But Jack is stubborn too, or maybe just that unsure of himself, because his hands are still the only point of contact between your bodies after what feels like an eternity.

Even Mattias tires of waiting. “For fuck’s sake,” Mattias scoffs. He rolls his eyes and takes his hand away from your panties, touching your chin and turning your head towards his. He kisses you instead of Jack, stealing your lips from the other boy because he can’t be bothered to let them remain untouched. He’s kissed you many times before, so his lips are sure against your own, his confidence making you sigh out and close your eyes.

You touch Mattias’ cheek with your fingertips, one hand still kneading your breast. As the feeling and sound of the kiss overwhelm your senses, Jack’s hands find your stomach. They run up to your ribs, then he nudges your hand aside. You don’t quite get it, lost in the way Mattias’ tongue feels against yours, so Jack covers your hand with his own. He traces the lines of your fingers with his, then settles his digits between the spaces of yours. With his other hand, he has free reign. He’s able to ghost over the smooth skin surrounding your pebbled nipple before touching the protrusion with a gentle flick of his index finger. You chase the motion, breaking away from Mattias’ mouth to look at the place where Jack’s hands lay.

He has exposed your chest now, pushed Mattias’ shirt up so far that it’s bunched up near your collarbones. He’s staring at your breasts like they’re the best thing he’s ever seen, like he’s never seen anything like them before and never will again. He takes your wrist and moves your hand so that it covers your belly button, sufficiently out of the way.

Mattias is still crowding your face with light kisses on your cheek and jaw, index finger tapping at the other side of your chin to call your lips back to his, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Jack’s hands and his mouth as it comes lower, sealing over the peak from which he just removed your fingers. His tongue flicks against the nipple the same way that his finger moves on your opposite side, creating competing sensations that work better together than they ever would apart.

Jack’s movements have you arching into him, your back leaving the bed enough for Mattias’ arm to weasel under you and tug you closer. He’s abandoned your chin, evidently giving up on getting your attention from his simple nudges.

Your usual partner is getting greedy and it shows– he’s petting over your core again with his long, delectable fingers. He shifts the crotch of your panties to the side just a bit, just enough that he can collect a bit of your slick on his middle two fingers. He returns his hand to your face, touching your lips with the wetness before you drop your jaw and he presses down on your tongue.

You suck his fingers greedily, knowing that this is just the first step to having him inside of you. You look to him for a moment, taking in the smile that barely clings to his face. He’s proud of you, praising you with just the glint in his eyes. It’s enough for you in that moment, so you look away– making the mistake of looking down at Jack.

His eyes are wide and piercing, staring up at you as he sucks on your tits. You release a soft moan, spurring him on. He pulls off of you and blows cool air against the wet patch of skin gracing your nipple, making it grow impossibly harder. You shudder as he switches to your other side. He focuses all his attention on drawing another noise out of you, hair falling over his forehead and tickling the skin of your chest where it lays. His eyes are closed, but his hair blocks your view.

Mattias seems to notice the same thing, pulling his fingers from your mouth and threading them through the strands dangling in front of Jack’s forehead to move them out of the way. He grips the hair tightly before he lets go, making Jack’s eyes open and look to him. A beat passes between the men, a look that makes you feel like, for a moment, you cease to exist underneath or beside them.

Then, Jack’s eyes flutter closed again and Mattias’ hand falls. He finds the waistband of your underwear, now soaked to the point that you’re sure they’re clinging to your folds. From this angle, with Jack on top of you, Mattias can’t get a good grip on the band to push the fabric down. You can feel his face contort with his thoughts and Jack is none the wiser, just enjoying his time attached to your nipples.

Mattias taps his shoulder, brows furrowed like he knows what he wants but he’s not sure if he’s overstepping. Jack’s eyes open and find the other man again, completely neutral. There’s an edge of expectancy in his movements with the way his tongue pauses its movements as he stares up at Mattias.

For someone so sure of himself in bed, Mattias sounds apprehensive when he speaks. He’s so used to ordering you around, bossing you because he knows that you’ll do whatever he asks, but Jack is new territory.

“If you like how her nipples taste, you should get your mouth on her cunt,” Mattias seems to suggest, even though you know that he’s not asking Jack to do so. He’s telling him to eat you out, to take your panties off and start to pleasure you.

Ripping a whine from you as he goes, Jack drops your nipple from his mouth and wipes along his bottom lip to break the line of spit connecting you. “You’d let me?” He asks, open-mouthed and breathing like he’s recovering from a run. His eyes are trained on Mattias and a thrill runs up your spine as soon as you realize that he’s asking the other boy for permission. You and Jack are more alike than you knew before.

It seems to click in the same moment for Mattias, who you’ve turned to face. His expression grows grave, even though he’s starting to smirk. “Yeah, I’d let you,” he says.

Jack’s fingers leave your torso and dig under the sides of your underwear, ready to tear them off of you with the fervor of a depraved man.

“But you have to beg,” Mattias adds, just before Jack can drag the fabric low enough to reveal your clit. The words rush out of him and Jack halts.

“Beg?” He asks.

Mattias lets out a little scoff. Your eyes bounce between them, back and forth as they bicker like you’re down in the kitchen making dinner and Jack wants chicken but Mattias wants steak. It’s perfect how easily you three fall into your roles, how simple it is to let your normal behavior leak into your bedroom.

“Yeah, beg,” Mattias affirms. He tilts his head to the side and mocks Jack, sticking his bottom lip out. “Come on, Twosey. You’re such a whiny bitch all the time, why should now be any different? You need to prove to us that you want it.”

“I want it,” Jack insists, pulling back with a knitted, offended brow. “You know I want it.”

“Oh, I know you want it,” Mattias says. “But she only just found out and I think you need to tell her how much you’re dying to be with her.”

As if he needs to remind Jack that you’re there, Mattias shifts on the bed so that you’re on display. His arm, which had been trapped under your waist once Jack’s mouth left your chest and you stopped arching into the smaller boy, pushes you up until you’re sitting. Mattias then sits behind you, his back against the headboard and your back against his bare, warm chest. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder comfortably, your temple meeting his cheek in this motion.

His cock, neglected for minutes upon minutes is achingly hard against your tailbone. You press back even further so the contact is snug– so that Mattias can have a little relief. No ulterior motive… despite the fact that you love to feel him straining against you.

Jack is still straddling your legs, your knees underneath him. He’s hovering above them and you can’t spread your legs to draw him in, a fact that leaves you frowning and humming to yourself. It makes his eyebrows quirk and causes Mattias to splay his hand over your stomach again, rubbing a soft circle on the skin and cooing in your ear.

“Don’t be impatient, baby, he’s still learning,” Mattias says, letting his eyes float back to Jack at the end of his sentence. You know the look that he’s giving Jack, even without seeing it: an impatient cut of the eyes, one raised eyebrow as if it’s a challenge, and he’s pressing his tongue against his teeth to signal that it’s time for Jack to relent or Mattias will have to do something about it himself. “It’s time, Quinn.”

Using his last name– things are getting serious.

Mattias pulls your shirt up, dragging it over your head. The loss of it means a few things– one, that Mattias’ scent is no longer covering you completely. He’s behind you, pressing against you, and you can smell him, but it’s not the same. Two, that you’re naked except for your sopping panties and Jack can see almost everything.

“I wanted him to do that,” you whine, pouting at Mattias. Your head is resting on his shoulder again, farther away this time so that you can look up at him from the side. You’ve got a great view of his nose and the curve of his lips, the curve that only tilts up more as he turns to face you.

Mattias presses a kiss to the corner of your pout and speaks like Jack isn’t there, like he’s not hovering inches from where you want him to be. “He hasn’t earned it, has he?”

The question is rhetorical and it spurs Jack into action. He pulls your panties down and slides off the bed so that he can remove them completely from your body. He holds them between his fingers like they’re a sacred object for which he should use gloves, standing at the edge of the bed. One of his knees rests on the mattress and you get an eyeful of his erection, covered by his underwear, but prominent nonetheless. Having seen it, and having been freed, you’re ready to kick your legs apart and beg him to come back.

Mattias, however, brackets your legs instead and uses his strong thighs to keep yours shut. You make an indignant groan, frowning at the man with a sharp look and he pinches your nipple, tweaking it slightly to put you in your place. You’re his, after all. Jack is just visiting. You’re only a slut for Mattias– Jack has to earn it.

“Go put those and her shirt in the laundry bin in my closet,” Mattias instructs. “Then, Jack, I believe you have some begging to do.”

The boy stands, lost and torn between wanting to preserve his dignity by fighting back against Mattias and wanting to succumb to his dominant commands so that he can get his mouth on you more quickly.

Mattias allows him to think it over for only a moment. “Go on,” he prods, encouraging the boy with a nod.

Jack takes a tentative step toward the closet, then another. He's just far enough away when Mattias returns to you.

He loosens his grip on your legs just slightly, enough that he can dip his hand into the space between your legs and offer you some much needed reprieve. “Look how well he listens with a little nudge,” Mattias murmurs before kissing your temple. “Now you have to be good for me, yeah? When he comes back, don't let him take your pussy so easily. Make him work for it. He’ll like that.”

“How do you know?” You question, looking up at him.

Mattias shrugs, jostling your head with the movement. He skims your entrance with the pad of one of his thick fingers, teasing you. “I just know,” he replies. He pushes his fingertip inside of you, starting to work it in and out but not opening you up– that privilege is something he’s awarding to Jack. “Just like how I know you.”

“Took you a while to get to know me,” you shoot back.

Across the room, Jack is looking in Mattias’ closet and trying to find his hamper. It’s in the back corner, hidden by some of his longer pants, so you’re not surprised that Jack is having trouble. It allows time for Mattias to focus on you, like a normal night, and you like that you get to have a moment alone with him. At the same time, it feels almost unfair that Jack is so far away.

Mattias chuckles at your attitude, his finger curling deep inside of you. You can feel the digit deftly rubbing against your insides, making you squirm. Mattias stills you by bringing his other hand up your body and lightly circling the base of your throat, squeezing it just slightly. “Know how much you like this,” Mattias tells you, whispering in your ear in a way that has goosebumps rising along your neck. “Didn’t take me too long to figure that out.”

Your eyes are forward, so you catch the moment that Jack finally turns around, having completed his task, and catches sight of Mattias’ hand around your throat and fingers between your legs. His mouth opens and his eyes widen, cheeks blushing into a flaming red.

“Good, Jack, c’mere,” Mattias says after a moment, finally lifting his eyes once he notices your distant stare. “Come lay down.”

Jack comes much easier this time, approaching the bed looking befuddled but eager. Mattias continues to pump his finger inside of you, although his hand drops from your throat. It finds your inner thigh and he spreads your legs for you, creating a space for Jack to lay. With one final parting thrust of his finger, Mattias pulls away and spreads your other leg even wider.

You’re fully on display now, folds parted from when Mattias spread them for his own greedy finger. You’re pristinely wet, barely needing Jack’s spit to mix with your own slick. Either of them could slide into you, fill you, without trouble. You almost want Jack to bypass Mattias’ plan and fuck you now, but there’s something about the way that Jack follows Mattias’ orders that makes you want to see how far things can go.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” Mattias goads, as if Jack’s eyes aren’t locked on your vagina already. “You’re so close to tasting it, Jack. All you have to do is convince her that you deserve it.”

Jack’s eyes snap to your face and you can tell that his desire has won out. He has no problem opening his mouth and starting to beg.

“Please,” he pleads. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

He’s dead-set on you now, crawling between your legs and tentatively touching your thigh. His hair is still messy, but it’s charming and out of his face and you kind of like that he’s a mess over how badly he wants to be with you.

“Tell me,” you reply, which earns you a hum of approval from Mattias and a soft pat to your hip. It’s not anything like his pointed spanks and swats, but you treasure it nonetheless. “Tell me what you’ve thought about.”

“It was like torture, having to listen to you down the hall. You sounded so pretty and I wanted to know what Sammy was doing to you to make you so loud. I wanted– I wanted to see,” Jack admits, losing his footing at the end of his sentence. His eyes flicker to Mattias’, then back to your face. “I never thought–”

“Now that you’re here, what are you going to do?” Mattias asks, interrupting the boy. “Tell her what you want to do to her. Tell her the things that you fucked your fist to, Twos.”

“This,” Jack groans, his eyes dropping to your core before coming back to your face. “Every time you moaned for him, I wondered if he was eating you out.”

Truth be told, eating you out wasn’t Mattias’ favorite thing to do. It came with the territory of his dominance– he much preferred to receive than to give, but it was never out of the realm of possibility. It was just a special treat, like when you looked especially beautiful one day or you had done something worth rewarding.

But hearing that it was the first thing on Jack’s mind whenever he overheard you– that has you running through endless scenarios and positions in your mind. With both of them, you’d be able to have everything, sometimes all at once.

Jack talks on. “Know you’d taste so good– wanted to taste you for myself. Practically came in my pants the first time I imagined you sitting on my face, Y/N. Being surrounded by you like that, having your thighs pressed over my ears because it was so good that you couldn’t help it… fuck, I need it. Please, I need it.”

“Not today,” Mattias says before you can nod. “Today, you have to do the work, buddy.”

Jack nods at that anyway, eyes gleaming and wild. “Anything– I just want a taste.”

Mattias nudges you, tapping your cheek with his nose. “Well?” He asks. “Can Jack have a taste?”

“Yeah,” you agree, eager and willing but unable to form any other words.

Like a stopwatch just began and Jack is finally on the clock, he jumps in. He’s laying flat on the bed between your legs, fingers already prodding at your hole while Mattias holds your legs apart for him.

Mattias is kissing over your neck, sucking over the pulse point on your left side when Jack’s lips close around your clit and mirror the sensation.

You’re not sure who to press into, who to arch against– you’re at war with your own mind and the sensations overtaking you, the ones overtaking you and controlling your movements like a puppeteer tied strings to your body.

Jack has his first two fingers inside of you, thrusting forward quickly like he can’t help himself. Mattias prefers to savor the moment when he’s fingering you, teasing you until you’re grinding against his digits and disobeying his orders to stay still because it’s just that good. While Mattias delays your orgasms in order to make the ultimate one more intense, Jack seems like he wants to bully your erogenous zones until you’re coming, and coming, and coming again. He wants you to come fast and he wants it often.

It’s a mindfuck, leaving you shaking underneath him as he flicks his tongue against your clit like a doorstopper pulled all the way to one side then released, vibrating back and forth like a metronome set to a rapid pace. You feel like you’re in a scene in a movie where you’re falling down a black hole and all you can hear is the pounding of your heart, growing more and more rapid.

Breaking the spiral is Mattias’ voice.

“No, Jack,” he says with a frown. One of his hands leaves your tits, the cool air hitting your sensitive nipples like a flinch. He grabs Jack’s hair, grips it so tightly that his knuckles seem to turn white– or maybe you’re just imagining things in your lustful haze– and he drags the boy’s mouth to a stop. “Slower. Don’t waste your only chance.”

You blink, clearing your clouded eyes to protest the “only chance” thing, but you lose your breath when you catch sight of the way Jack’s mouth hangs open with each tug of Mattias’ hand. Mattias practically shoves Jack’s face against your cunt, his tongue sliding over your folds and entrance like he’s lost control of the muscle. You wonder for a second if he’s hurting, but then Jack moans as Mattias positions his mouth over your clit and he latches on like the bud is the tip of a straw and he’s dying of thirst.

His eyes flutter, as do yours, and you know Mattias is grinning. Jack is like putty in his hands, moving wherever Mattias wants him to go. You’re suddenly aware that your hands are at your sides lamely, doing nothing at all, and you reach for Jack’s hair too like a natural instinct.

“Ah,” Mattias reprimands, dropping his grasp on your other tit and catching your wrists. “No touching, baby. Just sit back and relax and take what we’re giving you.” He holds both your wrists securely in his hands, keeping them still against your ribcage. He’s still pulling Jack’s hair, grinding his face against your slit, and it’s really Jack’s willingness to move wherever Mattias wants him that has you moaning.

It’s impossible not to grind against Jack’s face, though Mattias makes it hard for you to take charge of your own pleasure.

Nonetheless, you persist. The sounds that emit from Jack spur you on. They’re messy and pornographic, all kinds of sucking and groaning and slurping that would normally turn you off, but his desperation drives you crazy.

It doesn’t take long for you to reach that point, jaw dropping at the penultimate moment. Your head tips back on Mattias’ shoulder, eyes seeking his and finding them already fixed on your face, monitoring you.

“Gonna come,” you choke out, staring at the boy. “Ti–”

“You can,” he says. “He’s been waiting for you to come all over his tongue for months. Go ahead and give him his reward for being so patient, yeah?”

You feel shaky and spent as your first orgasm washes over you, noting in a passing moment that there’s so much more in store for you. There’s at least two or three more coming because Mattias seems to have endless faith in you and infinite ideas, able to do much more now that he has a partner to assist him in his ministrations.

Rather, he has someone else to boss around.

You collapse against Mattias’ strong chest, heaving out heavy breaths as Jack laps up your cum like it’s the best delicacy in the world. He’s languid, conscious of your recovery, and Mattias loosens his grip on the boy’s hair to soothe you as you come down. He pulls your hair out of your face, twisting the strands between his fingers. He speaks softly into your ear, murmuring things that you can’t really decipher because of the force of your climax, but his soothing tone calms you nonetheless.

Once your breath is steady, Mattias beckons Jack up from his place on the bed.

“Think you’ve earned a kiss,” Mattias says to Jack with a small shrug. He taps your shoulder with his thumb. “What do you say? Wanna give Twos a little kiss for all his hard work?”

You’re nodding, eyes lidded. Jack’s face is flushed and his lips are covered in clear, liquidy mess that drips down onto his chin. He’s absolutely gorgeous and you just want to pull him in and snuggle him forever, putting him in your pocket and carrying him around so that you don’t have to part with him.

He’s got that stupid look on his face still, but it’s different this time, like he’s growing cloudy in the head because he’s drunk off of the taste of your pussy and Mattias’ direction. He doesn’t hesitate anymore, but he moves slowly, as if time is passing differently for him.

Your first kiss with Jack is sweet, a joining of lips where you place a hand on Jack’s cheek and feel him underneath your palm. He’s hot and a little sweaty from the heat of the moment. The room is stifling with the smell of your arousal, but it could just be like that because you can taste yourself on Jack’s skin. You’re drinking him in all the same, keeping him close even as your lips part for a breath and come back together.

Mattias grinds his clothed cock against your backside while Jack kisses you, making you part from the smaller boy with a small gasp. Mattias turns your head to his, capturing your tingling lips in a more heated exchange, making all of your neurons fire in the best way. He slides his tongue into your mouth, then pulls back, leaving you boneless against him.

You watch as Mattias and Jack look at each other for a moment too long. Mattias lets his signature smile overtake his face, then he winks at the smaller boy. Jack turns red and looks away.

The hard length against your tailbone catches your attention. You grind back against him, capturing Mattias’ attention.

“Aww, baby,” Mattias mutters softly. “Did you think I was feeling left out?”

“Can feel how hard you are,” you reply. “Wanna make you come.”

“You wanna make me come,” Mattias repeats, lips quirked. “How about I give you something to occupy your mouth with, huh?”

You’re nodding, already shifting on his lap to turn your back to Jack and bend down to mouth over Mattias’ boxers. His big paw covers your hair, bundling your locks on the back of your head in a messy knot.

“So needy,” he berates, sounding like he’s scolding you although you know he’s pleased. “Can’t even give me time to take my pants off?”

Your knees are bent underneath you, spread wide enough that you can rock forwards and backwards easily. You’re conscious of Jack behind you, especially when you look up at Mattias and find that he’s staring past you.

“You can touch her,” Mattias says to the other boy. “Look how she’s presented right in front of you. Touch her, Jack. Give her another one.”

You’re still mouthing over Mattias’ clothed cock, sucking at the tip through the fabric and soaking it with your spit. He’s guiding you with his hand, pushing you lower until you’re licking over the curve of his balls, your nose tucked into the space where his thigh meets his groin. It should feel humiliating, to be forced to stay here and bring him pleasure, but you’re still reeling from the high of your orgasm and you’re unabashed knowing that your only audience is Mattias– who is a nonissue given how many times he’s fucked your face– and Jack, who is currently tracing his tongue over your slit from behind.

“Okay,” Mattias relents, patting the top of your head until you pull away. He draws his boxers down his legs and you moan, sagging back down when Jack’s finger finds your hole and starts to press into you again.

He’s bare beneath you now, the only scrap of clothing shared between the three of you being Jack’s boxers. It’s another reason why he’s the third wheel, the odd one out, even though you’d rather die than have him feel that way. You hope that he’s not thinking that, that he’s too preoccupied with your pussy and how the wetness drips down his wrist to wonder about the dynamic of this relationship.

“Twos,” Mattias calls, earning a hum from the other boy. Mattias occupies you with his cock, bringing your mouth to his tip and fitting your lips over it. You’re lax beneath him, allowing him to move your head up and down for his own pleasure. You let him use you as a toy, almost, unwilling to draw attention to yourself when Mattias is speaking with Jack.

“What?” Jack asks, his tone not as respectful as you’re accustomed to speaking with when it comes to Mattias. You make a noise of discontent around Mattias’ cock at Jack’s question, but Mattias pets over your cheek to quiet you.

“If you make her come before I do, I’ll let you fuck her,” Mattias says. “But you ought to know– she’s good with her mouth.”

As soon as he finishes his sentence, he sets off, fisting your hair and using it like reins to guide your bobbing. He tilts his hips forward even as he lifts and lowers your head, battering and abusing the back of your throat once he thrusts deep enough.

Jack has pushed a second finger into your heat, pushing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. He’s desperate to make you come a second time, to drag another climax from your writhing body, just so that he can get some release on his cock. You know that it’s aching, that he’s pulsing in his shorts and dripping everywhere, so turned on that he can only just stave off his own orgasm.

His fingers flex inside of you, curling and plunging inside of you with emphatic zeal. Mattias fills you from the front, your spit pooling around the base of his cock. He shoves you down, making you gag around him, your throat constricting in a satisfactory way around his thick shaft. He shakes your head, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his pubic bone as you deepthroat him.

“You close?” Mattias asks, pointedly looking down at you. He waits until you meet his eyes to draw out and thrust into your mouth again, harsh and delectable. A batch of tears start to appear on your waterline from the effort and they spill over as you stare up at Mattias, his glowering eyes locked on the way you’re dripping around him. If it’s not your spit leaking from your mouth, it’s the drops leaking from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks– and Mattias finds it impossible not to fuck into you harder seeing both of your reactions to his dick.

You hum around him, trying to nod to answer him, but the hand on the back of your head will not allow it. The added vibrations on his dick have him chasing the pleasure.

“Keep doing that,” Mattias groans. “Let me feel you moan, baby.”

The floodgates open, Mattias’ permission and Jack’s talented fingers pulling noise after noise from your body. You grip Jack’s fingers, rolling your hips as best you can while struggling to fit Mattias’ length in your mouth. You’re gagging as you breathe, which leaves your noises choked and beautiful when they fall on Mattias’ ears.

You’re just about to come, just about to wash Jack’s fingers with your slick, when Mattias’ seed spills down the back of your throat and all your focus shifts to lapping it up and swallowing it. Irrationally, you can feel his hot cum sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach, filling you up in your second-favorite way.

“Pull out,” Mattias commands, grinding his teeth as you continue to worship his cock. You ignore him because you know his words aren’t directed at you. “Jack. Pull out. You lost.”

“I want to make her come,” Jack insists, talking back to Mattias in a tone that has you writhing with discomfort.

“Pull out,” Mattias repeats, voice dark. “Or you’re never touching her again.”

Jack stills inside you.

“I mean it,” Mattias continues. “Pull out or I will make sure that you never touch her again.”

Jack draws his fingers out, speechless as Mattias monitors his movements. You watch as Mattias nods, the only sign of his approval, expression stony. He draws you up, kissing your forehead with his eyes still fixed on Jack’s. It’s a fuck you, once again flaunting his dominance over Jack. Mattias makes his way out from behind you, standing from the bed and grabbing you by your ankles to tug you to the edge of the bed.

He bends you over, glowering at the smaller boy who is watching his every move. He pushes your face into the mattress roughly, then releases you. You clench at the bedsheets. Mattias kicks your legs apart, dropping a loud slap onto the globes of your ass as he glares at Jack.

Then, he points to the headboard, far away from where you lay. You can just barely see his finger when you look up, eyes straining to catch him in your peripheral vision. “You, there,” Mattias orders. To you, he says, “You. Stay.”

You wouldn’t even dare disobey him as his warmth leaves the area behind you. Your skin still stings from his spank, your legs a little shaky from being so close to orgasm and having it ripped away. You feel like you could set off at any moment, only seconds from bursting.

You can hear Mattias moving, opening his closet and rifling through something. A thrill shoots up your spine, praying that he’s searching for what you think he’s searching for– a shoebox filled with condoms, ones that you stopped using ages ago, and your spare vibrator that Mattias took as his own.

It won’t be the first time he’s used it on you, but the fact that Jack will be watching– oh, this will be quick.

Mattias returns, silently, and you feel a bit like prey drinking from a watering hole with a lion stalking you. His hand finds you, smoothing over your skin. The other holds the silicon toy against your skin, tapping you. He slides his fingers down to dip into your cunt, testing how open you are. He hums and you can’t see him, but you can see Jack.

You can see how Jack pales, how his dick twitches in his underwear when Mattias draws his fingers out and hums as he slurps at the slick gathered on his digits.

“Mm,” Mattias says. “So sweet.”

Jack rolls his head to the side with a slight frown on his face, pleading with his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mattias chastises. “Take your punishment like a good boy.”

That makes you moan, hearing Mattias speak to Jack the same way that he speaks to you. It makes him chuckle and tap your hip. You lift up, baring yourself, and Mattias fills you with the toy before he turns it on. It buzzes to life and prompts a quiet yelp before you bury your face into the mattress.

Mattias places his hand on the edge of the toy and starts to move it inside of you. The vibrating tip buzzes in increments inside of you, out of time with Mattias’ manual thrusts in another sensation that has you unsure if you should lean into it or try to escape it. The small ridge that slides over your clit buzzes constantly– inclining you to lean into the toy.

Your hips rise and fall in wonky little circles, trying to meet Mattias’ movements as they go, but you’re always half a second behind.

“Ti,” You plead, begging for more contact.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes flicker between your hole and Jack’s frozen expression. He licks his lips as the bright toy disappears into you as you writhe. He tilts his head when he catches Jack’s hand palming his own cock.

Mattias considers it, then speaks. “Wanna hear me talk Twosey off, baby?” He asks you. “Will that get you far enough?”

“Ti,” you repeat, shaking underneath him. Your voice breaks a little as your body jerks.

“One more, Y/N,” Mattias encourages, his hand pumping between your legs consistently. “One more, he repeats, drawing the word out like the words can draw the orgasm out of you on their own. “Need you to give me something pretty for Jack to look at while he milks himself dry.”

Mattias smiles at the boy, devilish. Jack gulps, swallowing hard.

“Let me see it,” Mattias urges. “Show me how hard my girl makes you. Show me how bad you wanted this, even though it’s mine.”

You cry out under Mattias, stomping against the ground. You need him to stop talking like this because you swear you could die right in this moment.

Jack feels similarly, whimpering and inching his underpants down his thighs. He’s got a hand on his cock, squeezing the base to hold off. He can’t seem to decide where to look– at you or at Mattias– at the way Mattias’ hands flex when he pushes the toy into you or at the way your eyes gaze at Jack with pure admiration.

“Maybe give my girl something pretty to look at, Jack,” Mattias suggests. “Maybe that’s what’ll send her over the edge.”

“Fuck–” Jack curses, his head falling back when he slides his thumb over his tip.

The dynamic seems to fit into place immediately. Whereas Jack assumed it would be like a love triangle, with him and Mattias vying for your attention, he realizes now that you’re all vying for each others’ attention.

He looks at Mattias, Mattias looks at you, and you look at Jack. It reverses and turns on its head and pulses like a 3D movie without glasses. He’s so overwhelmed that he feels like he’s seeing shapes as he comes all over his hand, unable to handle the stimulation.

Mattias chuckles, proud of himself, and refocuses on your body and the toy inside you. He switches to the next setting, a quick and never ending buzz inside of you. You fuck back on the toy desperately, finally catching his rhythm. You can’t take any more denial and you stammer out a high-pitched warning to Mattias.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder.

You come, hard. Your vision goes white and starry with the orgasm.

Mattias walks you through it, murmuring softly as he grounds you with his sweet kisses on your skin. “Go get a towel, Jack,” Mattias mutters, reaching up to pat the boy’s ankle in a sign of invitation. “Come help me clean her up. Then we can go to bed, and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“We– we don’t have to talk about it,” Jack stammers, afraid of what that means. He can’t risk not being invited back into this bed now that he’s had a taste.

“Don’t worry.” Mattias reaches over and squeezes Jack’s cheeks between his fingers, giving his head a little shake. “We’re going to do this again, Twos. You did really good.”

Jack lets out a sigh of relief and goes to grab a towel from down the hall, leaving you and Mattias alone.

He kisses your eyelids, which are drifting closed as you come back completely. “So good, Ti,” you echo. “Perfect.”

Mattias chuckles, kissing your lips sweetly. “Anything for my girl.”

notes: first threesome in the books! also it's my sister's bday. hi sister. i hope she never reads this. also also: stg chapter 6 will be my next release (hopefully!) so i'll see y'all then <3

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