#(yes it's my fault I left the lights on)

[earanie]

you know when one day before going away _everything_ than can happen, happens?

spoiler alert: it is happening

[stargirlrchive]

simon’s work wife

one — two — three — four

the transition in your relationship—if you could call it that—with simon was easier than you anticipated. he practically herded you into his apartment.

helping you pack, doing all the heavy lifting, and grunting softly when you’d ask if some of your decor would clash with his. “wh’tver you want in our house will go, doll.”

our house. our.

shivers ran down your spine when you’d hear him refer to your things as our. you didn’t mind it—albeit it did confuse you a bit because just two weeks ago you were single, and now you were living with your lieutenant, and sleeping in his bed, and he’d cook for you—even knew how you liked your coffee in the morning.

the only weird thing was that he didn’t touch you.

well he did, like placing a heavy hand on your lower back to guide you, or pressing up against you to grab a cup from the shelves because you couldn’t reach it, or letting his thumb trail down your throat as you spoke to him.

but he didn’t touch you.

that plagued your thoughts all day, even as you slipped into bed with him. letting out a small huff as he turned to face you in the dim light of the room.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing.”

you could tell his brows pinched together but you didn’t mention it. picking at your cuticles to stop yourself from looking at him.

you were still so confused; he clearly wanted you if his actions meant anything. and you couldn’t deny that anytime he’d refer to you as his ‘missus’ that warmth curled in your belly and left you a mess.

a needy, horny mess. it was his fault really.

he grunted, thick fingers wrapping around your soft thigh to pull you closer to him, “we ain’t supposed to go to sleep mad at each other.”

your nose scrunched up at him as you somehow found yourself under him, “and who sets these rules?”

he stared at you for a second before that same hand that was curled around your thigh now moved to curl around your throat gently, his eyes glued to your lips.

“me.”

you huff again, but make no move to move from under him—a move simon doesn’t miss. “what’s go ya’ so worked up, sweetheart?”

the gravel in his voice had your skin heating up, nipples pebbling as you met his gaze, “you.”

“me?”

“mhm.”

the amusement was clear in his eyes, staring down at you as he let his weight sink into you and you had to bite back the moan that threatened to leave your lips.

god, you felt pathetic. just the feeling of his cock on your belly, the scent of him, had you reeling.

“tell me what you need.”

one of his hands trailed lower, thumb barely ghosting over your nipple and a breathless whine left your mouth. “well—i-i need you to perform your duties-”

a rumbly laugh left his mouth as his nose dipped down to your throat, licking up your neck and nipping softly, “my duties?”

heat coiled in your belly, arousal pulling between your thighs as you tried to control your breathing. “and what duties have i been falling short on?”

your mind went hazy as he cupped your breast, lowering his hips to press his cock against your cunt, heavy and thick and just there. teasing you further by not moving.

“have i been neglecting my missus?”

that pulled a moan straight from your parted lips, hips bucking upwards to grind against his cock as he grunted lowly. “y-yes, been neglecting me.”

he nipped at your neck, thick fingers easily snapping away that lacy fabric that sat on your hips as he growled out softly, “m’sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you.”

[stardustpsychics]

when it comes to disco elysium, one of my favourite things within the game is the usage of lungs as a motif of love and the representation of this through dolores dei. it’s an incredible way of showing it, as when you love someone or something it almost seems to sustain you, becomes the air that you breathe.

however, another thing i noticed is that an overwhelming majority of the characters smoke. smoking is famously damaging to your health, more specifically to your lungs - almost like smoking is a metaphor for the way these characters show their relationships with others.

some prime examples are:

• harry du bois, who smoked heavily before losing his memory (and after, depending on player choice), a clear instance because of dora and her effect on his life and relationships for years after she left

• the smoker on the balcony, who is never seen without a cigarette, and is in an unloving sexual relationship with someone who can never understand him or truly know him at all

• klaasje amandou, who is also never seen without a cigarette, believes that she is at fault for all of her relationships collapsing and has a skewed view on what it means to love

however, my favourite example is, of course, kim kitsuragi. yes, he smokes as he enjoys the control he has over his addiction and the “cool factor” it gives him is satisfying, but i think there’s a more specific reason there - kim is so repressed that he consistently walls himself off from relationships.

kim himself says that he smokes one a day as he goes over his notes. to me, this says that he is causing minor, daily damage to his interpersonal relationships that builds up more and more over time. the fact that he does it specifically when going over notes says a lot to me too - that his work is what he’s using to push others away.

he does break this one a day rule, however - in the ending where the player chooses not to recruit kim. harry leaves kim behind. they shake hands, and as soon as harry turns away, kim lights a cigarette, a visual representation of the damage caused by another partnership cut short.

[poguehearted77]

Winter's Chance

Summary: It's Rafe's turn to have your son for the weekend, but it seems the weather wants you to spend the holidays together.

--Finally some Baby Daddy Rafe

With delicate rubs to your son's tummy, you desperately tried to get him to calm down with soft pleads and overeager soothing. He'd been fussing all day, so much that you'd called the doctor to make sure everything was okay.

They simply reassured you that it may just be a prolonged stage of fussiness. Most babies grow out of it around 4 months which is exactly where Max had just reached a few weeks ago.

Just when he was finally beginning to calm for a moment your ears are filled with the chime of your doorbell. Max picks up his crying as if he had never stopped. Your eyes roll, already knowing who is on the other side of the door.

You gently scooped him up to rest over your shoulder on top of the little binkie you tend to have thrown over your shoulder at all times for moments like this. He was cute, but the spit-up was never pretty and you were always prepared.

Opening the door from a distance you weren't expecting to see Rafe step in partially covered in snow. It distracted you momentarily before Max's cries cut through the shock.

"I know, I know." You whine, gently rocking him, backing away from the cold air that swept against your feet. "Hurry up, and close the door." His eyes roll, "Hello to you too." He closes the door and stomps off the snow from his boots before stepping out of them and hanging up his jacket.

"Woah, woah, what are you doing? This is just a pick-up, then you can have fun trying to calm him down at your place." Rafe stands still, his thumb gesturing to the door behind him, "You haven't seen the news, have you? They're closing the roads, so we're snowed in. The only reason I made it here is because of the suspension on my truck."

Your face turns sour and Max continues to cry.

"So why did you come in the first place if you knew you wouldn't be able to make it back?" He ignores your question for the most part, "Relax, baby. As excited as you are to see me, I didn't come for you. I came for my son. There he is," Rafe's expression lights up as he reaches for Max and takes him out of your hold.

"Rafe you can't just take him and expect him to calm-"

For the first time in seven hours, silence consumes the room. No more screams and tearful cries. "You've got to be fucking with me," You don't say it loudly, but Rafe still hears.

"Guess he was just missin' his daddy, huh? Isn't that right, Max?" Rafe's tone is playful as he pokes at Max's tummy which elicits tiny giggles and the brightest smile you'd seen all day.

You walk away, headed towards the kitchen. Not sure why you were moving so fast, Rafe was hot on your heels. "It's not your fault, it's probably just been a long day-" He finally shuts the fuck up with his smug remarks when he hears a soft cry, "Y/n," Your name rolls off his tongue, tender and sweet. "Baby, what's wrong?" Effortlessly, he supports Max with one hand while he reaches to turn you so you're facing him.

Your eyes are filled with tears, lips quivering ever so slightly and he knows what's coming. He's seen you like this more times than he can count. He takes you under his arm, your cheek pressed to his chest and you break down, muttering into the fabric of his hoodie.

He comforts you with a big hand rubbing your back, soothing you the way he learned from those parenting books that he swear he never read. "It's so hard, Rafe." Is all you manage to say through broken cries for the first five minutes before you're pushing off him, expression more angry than upset? "He was crying all day, and the second you walk in, he's perfectly fine."

Rafe's lips frown, puzzled. "And that's a bad thing?--"

"Yes! Why do you get to be Superman?!" Earlier, the sound of a pin drop would disturb Max from calming, but now even your exclamations left him unfazed, as long as he was in Rafe's arms he was unbothered.

As a matter of fact, with a second glance, you notice he'd actually fallen asleep. Just Perfect. Another win for Superman.

He chuckles, leading you both to have a seat on the couch. Your son sleeping soundly in his father's hold. "Well, I think I've got the abs for it." His shit-eating grin spreads across his lips.

"You try carrying a baby in your stomach for nine months, and you tell me if you still have abs after." Subtly, his tongue wets his lips at the memory, "All I remember is how good you looked pregnant. Shit, wanna do it again?" You'd never wanted to hurt someone so badly.

"You're lucky you're holding my son." He scoffs, leaning in slightly as if to speak away from the baby. "I seem to remember the two of us going half on the conception, and a few times after that." You air-swat him and stand, making your way for the stairs. "I'm going to take a nap."

The hours flew by as you finally had your first uninterrupted nap in what felt like years. By the time you woke up, the sun was long gone, and there was a thick layer of fresh snow sitting on your window pane. You headed downstairs and stopped at the bottom of the steps to appreciate the view.

Nothing melted you quite like the sight of Rafe taking care of Max. You hated to admit it, but he was a good dad. A really good one. Hot, too. Rafe held the bottle to Max's lips, murmuring some undistinguishable babbles with a soft smile. Surely speaking a language only the two of them can understand.

"I hope you warmed the bottle before you gave it to him." You say, and he finally notices you standing by the stairs, stalking your way over and sitting beside him.He ignores you, knowing that you're just trying to get under his skin. "You look well rested." He remarks and you sigh with a soft nod. "Yeah, I am actually." He grins to himself, "Must be a miracle to sleep well on that cheap-ass mattress you got up there."

"Sorry, we can't all have premium mattresses." Rafe pulls the bottle back once he realizes Max has had his fill. "Y'know my money is your money right? I give you ten thousand a month but everything I have is yours, too." Standing him up on his lap first, Rafe holds the baby over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

"Well, I don't need to live in a fifteen thousand sq ft house to be happy unlike you." He shakes his head slowly, his gaze falls on you, somber. "I seem happy to you? I don't give a shit how big my place is. It's always going to be empty without you two in it... " He trails off, alluding there's more to come.

"Rafe.. What are you saying?"

"Move in with me, again." Your head shakes before you sputter profuse denials, "No, Rafe, we can't we tried that before remember? We don't get along. Technically, we're not even together." The conversation is briefly interrupted by a small gurgled burp on Max's behalf.

Rafe leans down to place a drowsy Max in his rocker in front of the couch before sitting back up. "Things were different then, we were eighteen. I can't do the back-and-forth anymore. Don't you wanna wake up in the morning, see that Max is taken care of and I'm making you breakfast, then we go back to bed and I take care of you? Huh?" He hums, his voice igniting sparks along the length of your neck as he nosed along it.

"Rafe.." your voice is shaky, feeling the heat from the discussion.

"Whadd'ya say, hm?" You reflect, having Rafe stay with you today, in just a few short hours you'd been able to take a break, he held you when you cried like he always did. You'd hardly even fought. Though that was no surprise, the two of you fought considerably less ever since Max came into the picture.

"Okay, yes." You can feel the lines from his smile stretch against your jaw just before he begins to pepper kisses on your cheek. "Y'know, we made the world's cutest baby ever right?" You smile, both your gazes focused on the little one before you.

"He's got your eyes, for sure." Rafe states and you giggle, "You're just saying that because they're brown." He sits up straight, heartfully disagreeing. "I'm not. They're the same eyes that I fell in love with when I first laid my eyes on you, and the same ones that humbled me when they looked up at me for the first time in the NICU."

His words were touching. You're seeing a whole new side of him. Not the usually hot-headed and impulsive man you were used to. This one was sweeter, softer, and more sincere.

You reeled him in for the first kiss, his lips soft as they pressed against yours, his hands confidently holding you at your waist. "Ah, I see you're taking me up on my previous offer. Let's go for a girl this time, yeah?" He grins, and you pinch him.

[peachesofteal]

you bake when you’re upset or stressed - ghoap/f!reader

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the quiver in your voice doesn't do much to dispel Simon's suspicion, and you toss the bowl full of brownie batter onto the counter. "I'm fine."

"You're baking at three in the morning, sweetheart. Did something happen?"

"I had a bad day, is all. It's nothing." The lie hisses through your teeth, jaw set tight as an attempt to keep everything bottled up where it belongs.

"What's going on?" Johnny's leaning against the counter in plaid pajama pants, gold ring on the chain around his neck glinting in the dimmed light of the kitchen. They both wear them, the rings, the ones complementing yours, a delicate twist of three threads, woven together to make one tight knit strand, looped together in a knot at the top of your finger where a diamond would normally go.

"Baked goods in the middle of the night." Simon sticks his finger in the batter, and gives you a knowing look. "You know I'll keep you here until you let it out." You shake your head.

"Let's go back tae bed then." Johnny's trying to coax you, gently, as always. It's his way. Soft, slow, sweet. Even keeled and sensitive.

Still, you won't budge.

It's not them. It's something else, something unsettled in your stomach you can't explain. It's you. Always you. Distraught. Disorganized. Disappointing.

"I need to finish these." Simon's focus is one of a predator's, and you're always prey. Analyzing, anticipating, nose to the ground on a scent. He’s already got you pegged, turned inside out. He knows.

When Johnny carefully wraps his fingers around your wrist and Simon hops onto the counter with his knees spread wide, you know you're done for.

You let them arrange you. Let Johnny push you between Si's thighs and cup your face, stroke your cheek. You go willingly, lacking a fight that was so prevalent only an hour before.

It takes two minutes of physical touch before you're crumbling.

"I had a terrible day," you sob, "I got a parking ticket and spilled my tea and missed an important email and then I bailed out of my work out halfway because I was miserable and then I didn't do anything at home, I wasn't productive, I didn't get any of the laundry done like I wanted and I left so many dirty dishes in the sink last night, I-"

"Okay, hey." Johnny rubs your arm, "hey, ye're alright dove. Ye're okay." He knocks his forehead against yours. "Jus' breathe f'me. Just breathe." You suck a long gasp in through your lungs, Simon tightening his hold enough to ground you.

"Who cares about the laundry? It's not even your week, and the dishes are our fault. You worked all day, we laid around. Should have done them."

"I know!" You cry, "I mean... you should have. But I left them and I feel like I'm always so disorganized, I'm always making a fucking mess."

"I'd clean up your mess everyday. I love you, your dishes and whatever else… none of it matters." Simon kisses your temple, "we both would. And there's nothing wrong with calling it during a workout if you're not feeling well. That's the right thing to do." You nod miserably, lingering in their hold, their arms, your heart rate slowly sinking back into a normal rhythm, your air coming easily.

"Now, do ye really want these brownies? Or do ye want to put the batter in the fridge?"

"Batter in the fridge." You press your face into Simon's shoulder, blocking out the light. You're suddenly so tired, energy drained from the emotional purge, and Johnny rubs your back.

"I'll put it away, ye two go get in bed. Put on a movie, an' I'll be in."

The bed is the coziest place in the house. The safest. The warmest. It's so easy to succumb to sleep and sweet dreams here, so it's no wonder by the time Johnny makes it back, you're barely awake. He tugs you away from Simon's snores and into his arms. "Ah love ye, dove. Messes an' all." You smile.

"I love you too."

[neimaami]

6 AM (M)

SYNOPSIS: Jungkook wakes you up at 6AM for more than just morning cuddles

WARNINGS : SMUT, protected sex, dirty talk, mention of oral sex (f), rough sex, missionary, Jk kind of a freak, soft kook, first time writing smut! (constructive criticism is very much condoned), established relationship, spit kink, eye-contact kink (is that a thing?)

word count: 4.0k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

If Jeonguk wasn’t the love of your life, you swear you would have killed him. 

If there is one thing you hate more in this world than rude, snobby rich kids, it’s being woken up in the crack ass of dawn. Seriously, your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet—that’s supposed to be an obvious universal sign for “wake me up, and I’ll end you.” But Jeonguk? He thrives on pushing your limits, of testing your patience to heights no one has ever dared to cross. If you had known moving in with Jeonguk would result in sleepless nights and early awakenings, you would have reconsidered. 

“Stop.” A sleepy mumble escapes your lips, your voice sounding ragged and throat raspy - your eyes remaining closed in your half-asleep state. The persistent finger poking against your cheek over and over again only served to agitate you even further as it dragged you back to reality from the comfort of dreamland. “Guk seriously…” An exasperated sigh fell from your lips as you lazily raised an arm to swat his hand away. 

A deep, throaty chuckle escaped him, sending shivers down your spine. You inwardly curse your body for the way it reacts to the sound of his voice. Your nipples harden embarrassingly against the thin fabric of your tank top. The wooden bed creaks softly as you shift, turning your back to him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the reaction he effortlessly draws from your body. The white sheets of your shared comforter were a wrinkled mess that reached just below your knees - it had been a warm, sticky night that left you both no choice but to kick the sheets off your bodies. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” The smug tone in his voice was apparent as you felt the bed dip even further, his chest now pressing against your back. He leaned down, mouth inches away from the shell of your ear, his breath fanning over your skin, sending yet another wave of shivers down your spine. “Did I wake you up?” He whispered, the corner of his lip curling into a smirk.

The pillow beneath your head bunches as your fingers tighten around the fabric, gripping it in your palm. “Don’t act innocent, you know for a fact you woke me up on purpose with your constant poking.” You turn your body even further away from him in retaliation. 

You heard a scoff falling from his lips. “It’s not my fault your lazy ass takes ages to wake up.” You felt his hand coming down to rest on your bare hip from where your tank top had ridden up. Leaning down, his lips dragged softly against the back of your neck. 

“No one else in the world wakes up at 6 AM on a weekend but you, Guk.” You shot back, which only earns you a snort from him. He trails soft kisses up the side of your neck, a light featherly touch that has you craving for more. 

“Who said anything about 6AM?” He presses one last kiss against your flushed cheek before pulling back. “I knew you had no sense of time, but this is just a whole new level.” He smiled that stupid smug grin of his that made you want to do nothing else but wipe it off. 

“What are you talking about?” You grumble in annoyance, not bothering to open your eyes. This was one of the rare mornings you didn’t have to drag yourself out of bed for your dreaded university lectures. Not to mention, the campus itself was a nightmare to navigate—always loud and irritating. Especially in the mornings, when all you wanted to do was to sink back into the  comfort of your warm bed.

“It’s 4PM, baby” His voice lowered to a soft rumble. Your eyes snap open. Yes you were lazy, yes you loved sleeping above anything else, but you hated being unproductive, of feeling as if you wasted an entire day lazing around in bed. As fast as lightning you’re sitting up, causing the wooden bed to creak under your added pressure. Jungkook could only smile in amusement from beside you, no doubt taking in your disheveled appearance - hair a mess, clothes wrinkled, eyes puffy from sleep. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up sooner!” You whine, reaching out for your phone on the nightstand, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the screen. The bold letters ‘6:15AM’ flash on the homescreen of your phone. Your mind dawns in realization, your head snaps towards Jungkook who lays against the wooden headboard smugly. His arms resting behind his head, sheets pooling against his waist - leaving his toned chest and delicious abs to view. If you weren’t so irritated you would have jumped his bones no doubt.

“Oh whoops, I must’ve read the time wrong.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal. You launched yourself onto him in an instant, causing him to let out a ‘yelp’ in surprise. You knew his weakness, knew it like the back of your hand - tickles. It was a very effective method if you do say so yourself. 

He let out a strained, breathless laugh as your fingers mercilessly danced against the sides of his bare torso, the bed thrashed and creaked from the movements of his attempts at escape. “Stop, Stop, I’m sorry!” He chanted as he tried to get ahold of your wrists. Through many months of perfecting Jungkook’s weakness, you had become quite the expert on dodging his attempts to stop your tickling. 

“This is what you get!” Your eyes crinkled at the corners, a wide smile you made no effort to hide, appearing on your lips. To get a better angle, you swung a leg over his torso, successfully straddling his hips, your fingers never haltering their torturous movements against the sides of his ribs. He was laughing so hard you could see a vein popping out from the side of his neck from the strain. “Now you’ll know to never disrupt my sleep!” 

In a moment of distraction, he got a hold of your wrists, turning the both of you around in an instant. You let out an ‘oof’ sound as your back hit the mattress with more force than he had probably intended. The grip of his hands on your wrists only tightened as he forced them above your head, keeping them steady against the pillow. 

“Woah, whoah, whoa there, calm down pretty lady” His voice came out in a breathless chuckle, you felt a pang of pride in your chest for reducing him to such a state - even if it was just from a tickle attack. 

“Shut up Jungkook, you lied to me and made me miss on my precious and very much needed beauty sleep!” you ramble, struggling against his hold as he tightened his hands around your wrists.

“I had to get you up somehow, knowing you, nothing else would have worked.” He leaned down to start pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck, his warm tongue darting out to taste your skin. The feeling made you shiver against him.

“T-that’s not an excuse!” You weakly argue, feeling the way his bare chest pressed you down against the mattress even further. His mouth continued its assault on your senses, trailing up further against the side of your neck before his breath fanned against the shell of your ear.

“Shhh” He whispered, his hand coming up to cup one of your breasts in his warm hand, thumb brushing over one of your hard nipples and feeling it pebble even further. A small gasp escapes your lips as he starts to grind his very clear and persistent bulge against your clothed core. 

You can’t help but scoff “I can’t believe my tickles got you horny…they were supposed to be the ultimate weapon again-” Your voice was cut short when his lips pressed against yours in a sudden frenzied kiss. They were warm and soft as they moved in accordance with yours. His teeth sunk down against your bottom lip, to which you gasp at the feeling. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into the wet cavern of your mouth, tongue intertwining with yours. 

“Guk…” You moan softly against his lips, your legs parting instinctively to feel the straining erection pressing directly against your clothed clit. You let out a breathless moan, bucking your hips up towards his, grinding yourself against him in hopes of finding much needed friction. He groaned against your lips, pushing his own hips against yours. The both of you gasp at the feeling. He pulled away from the kiss with your bottom lip caught between his teeth. He watches as it falls back into place when he lets go. He leans down to pepper kisses over your collarbone. 

You let out a strangled moan when he hooks a finger to the hem of your tank top and raises it up enough to reveal your bare breasts to his gaze, your already hardened nipples exposed to the warm air of the room. It was still early morning, the birds chirped outside and the hallways of the apartment were quiet. He wastes no time in leaning down and taking one of your rosy peaks into his mouth, his tongue lavishing over the sensitive peak, teeth grazing against your skin. “Jungkook!” Your back arches off the mattress of the bed, your hips grinding sloppily against his even faster. “P-please” You whimper, hands Intertwining between his brown locks.

He released your nipple with a soft ‘pop’ watching attentively as the skin around it reddens from his ministrations. “Please what, baby?” He mumbles lazily, leaning down to dart his tongue out and flicking it against the nub. Your toes curl into the mattress as his other hand comes up to tug and twist at your other nipple. 

“P-Please…I need you” You gasp in pleasure, in other circumstances you would’ve felt embarrassed as you felt his smirk against the valley of your breasts - but not today, not when you were this horny, not when he manages to reduce you to such a state. 

He looks up at you through hooded eyes. He shakes his head, his thumb and pointer finger pinches and tugs at your nipple even harder, causing you to whimper. “Need what? Use your words, princess. I’m not a fucking mind reader” You shiver at the authoritative tone in his voice, under other conditions you would have slapped his head upside down if he talked to you that way - today you relished in it. 

“M-mouth” your words were choppy, hoping to get away with saying the minimal possible thing. Your cheeks were already burning in embarrassment and lust. Jungkook shook his head once more, the smirk that once adorned his face was replaced by a deep scowl. 

“Are you trying to get on my nerves?” With narrowed eyes he drank in your rosy cheeks and the way your mouth was slightly parted. He sat back on his haunches, eyes trailing down the expanse of your body as he rested his hands on your hips, his thumb stroking the skin underneath the waistband of your pyjama shorts. “I’ll ask you one more time. What do you want? Tell what it is you need from me, baby”

“I need your mouth! your tongue, cock, anything!” You gasp out in desperation, only serving to deepen the red on your cheeks. You could see the way a triumphant, smug, grin broke out on his face. He wasted no time gripping the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down and off your legs - the fabric falling carelessly onto the floor. 

“Such a good girl” He cooed, leaning in to press a deep, filthy kiss against your lips - all tongue and spit. His fingers reached down between your legs to graze dangerously low on your inner thigh. Your moans were muffled by his lips against yours before he broke the kiss.

“Stop teasing me” You buck your hips up, breath catching in your throat as he shifts his thigh to rest between your legs. The added pressure to your clothed clit fueled your desires even further, hips grinding against the straining muscle with no ounce of shame. He flexed the muscle of his thigh, watching transfixed as you pleasured yourself.

“Fuck baby, look at you” He slurred with lust, his eyes darkening at the sight “So wet and needy” He chuckled when he saw a wet spot forming onto his grey sweatpants. He removed his thigh from between your legs, causing you to whine in annoyance - your protest doesn’t last long as he hooks a finger to the waistband of your soaked panties and tugs them all the way down your legs. 

He lets out a low whistle at the sight, reaching down to grip the back of your thighs and parting your legs to reveal your soaked puffy folds. You prop up on your forearms as he adjusts his head between your legs, guiding your thighs to rest over his shoulders. “So fucking wet…” His breath fanned over your glistening folds causing your hands to fist the sheets beneath you.

“Oh kookie…” You whimper softly, your eyebrows furrowed and lips parted as you watched his every movement in anticipation. He brought one of his fingers to slide up your slit, gathering the wetness onto his digit. He parts your wet folds with his pointer and middle finger, groaning at the sight before him as he eyes your pussy like a starved man. He leaned in to take a deep, eye-rolling sniff at your pussy. Your cheeks burst into literal flames. “That’s so dirty…” You whisper, biting your lip.

“What is?” He raised a brow, his hooded eyes landing on yours as he lifted his head up slightly. “Can’t a guy appreciate his woman’s pussy? Especially if it’s as sexy as yours, pink and wet…and oh so fucking deliscious…” 

He leans in and licks a bold, wet strip against your folds from your entrance all the way up your clit. You gasp at the sensation, your hand shooting out to grip his hair. He hums against your pussy, eyes closing in concentration as his tongue lavishes against your folds. You could only throw your head back in ecstasy, your mind hazy and eyes blurry. When he plops off your pussy, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and slight annoyance. That is, until you see him gather saliva into his mouth, eyes locked on yours as he spits onto your folds.

Your mouth fell open at his action, feeling even more turned on. You buck your hips up against his mouth, curling your toes as his lips circled around your clit and gave the bundle of nerves a hard suck. Your body fell limp against the mattress. The room filled with the lewd sounds of his mouth against your wet folds. “M-more” You whimper as you felt the tip of his middle finger circle against your entrance, he then released your clit with a ‘pop’

“Look at me.” His voice booms against the walls of the fairly quiet bedroom. Your eyes snap to his at his command, biting your lip as his finger slips all the way inside you. “If you look away I’ll stop.” He promised, slowly thrusting his finger in and out of your velvety walls. Leaning down, his nose nuzzled against your clit as his tongue drew shapes against your slit, oozing out more wetness from you. 

“Oh guk…” You moan, as you tug at his hair, bucking your hips up against his fingers as he adds a second, then a third. His eyes remained locked on yours at all times, hooded and filled with unmistaken lust. “I love the way you look at me.” You say breathlessly, tightening your thighs around his head. He hums against your folds, his tongue darting out to flick against your clit before taking it into his mouth and sucking harshly onto the nub, his teeth grazing against the sensitive area. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spongey, soft area where he begins to concentrate all his efforts on, his fingers thrusting against it over and over again until you’re a moaning mess beneath him. 

“Fuck! Right there…oh Guk, don’t stop!” You moan repeatedly with no real consciousness of what you were saying - too far gone for coherent thoughts. His fingers set a fast, rough pace, causing the room to echo with the sounds of your wetness, meanwhile his mouth sucks harshly against your clit. It was more than enough to push you over the edge, your thighs trembling between his head as your orgasm washed over you. 

“Oh my god-” You choke out, your eyes rolling back in your head, hips bucking frantically against his face, riding out your mind-blowing orgasm. You fall limp against the mattress when the feeling starts to subside. Jungkook releases your clit with a last suck and slowly extracts his fingers from your soaked pussy. He brings his fingers coated with your arousal into his mouth, tongue darting out for a taste. Your cheeks burn at the sight of him humming in pleasure. 

“So deliscious…sweetest pussy ever.” His voice was thick and laced with lust, smiling down at you as he leans down to brace his forearms on either side of your head. He captures your lips with his, humming when you taste yourself on his tongue. One of his hands disappears into the waistband of his sweatpants, taking out his painfully hard cock from the confines of his boxers. Breaking the kiss, your mouth salivates at the sight, thick droplets of pre-cum sliding down his cock from the slit at the tip of his puffy cockhead. “Eyes on me.”

Your eyes snap back to him as he slowly gives his cock a couple of lazy strokes. “C-condom…” You remind him when you feel the tip of his cock slide against your folds to collect your wetness. You can feel him groan in annoyance at your reminder, a petulant pout forming on his lips. It amazed you how quick he could go from a sexy, dominant man to a cute, doe-eyed boy. 

“I thought you were on birth control.” He says as he continues to rub his cock against your slick folds - your breath coming out slightly ragged.

“I am…but you know it’s not 100% effective, it’s better safe than sorry.” You reach out towards the night stand and fish blindly for the half-empty box of condoms. It was standard procedure at this point as he takes the condom from your hand with much reluctance. 

“This is stupid…” He complains as he rips the packet open with his fingers, grabbing the rubber and placing it against his cock, rolling out the material so it fits snugly against his hard cock. He hissed at the feeling. “I hate wearing this shit” 

Before you could educate him on the importance of protection, his cock was already nudging instantly against your entrance. “Please don’t talk. It’ll ruin the mood.” you would’ve gotten offended if it weren’t for the delicious stretch of his cock sliding inside you, inch by torturous inch. You whimper at the feeling, reaching out to press his chest against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. You both moan in unison. Your back arches as he easily slides the rest of the way inside you, his hips resting snuggly against yours.

“Shit” He curses under his breath, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. You could only whimper at the feeling of being so utterly full, stretched out by the man on top of you - your Jungkook. “You feel so fucking good…” He slurs with lust, his mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses against the side of your neck.

“P-please move kook…” At your breathy whisper Jungkook shudders, hips pulling back just enough to leave the tip inside you before slamming back down against you. The both of you let out a strangled moan at the feeling. He sets a fast, rough pace, his cock sliding in and out of you at a steady rhythm, one that has the whole bed rocking and headboard slamming against the wall.

“That’s it…take my cock…” He throws his head back in a prolonged, deep groan, his eyes shuddering closed. You were a whimpering mess beneath him, your tits bouncing with each harsh thrust - feeling every inch of his hard cock inside you. He grips the back of your thighs and presses them down towards your chest, folding you nearly in half. This allows his cock to find that perfect spot inside you. His cock pounds into you even harder as he sits back on his haunches, using his thigh muscles to help thrust even deeper inside you, the tip of his cock kissing your g-spot over and over again.

You were a babbling mess beneath him, making no coherent sentences and letting out drawled out moans that had Jungkook hypnotised. He re-doubled his efforts, slamming into you with renowned vigour. He leaned down to catch one of your bouncing tits into his mouth. The feeling of his lips around your sensitive nipple was enough to leave you in a stuttering mess.

He plops off your nipple and leans down to press his forehead against yours, his hips never faltering their rhythm as his eyes bore into yours. “ohhh my- god,” you cry, he was fucking you so good it was turning your brain into mush. He opens his mouth to let a droplet of his sticky spit land against your cheek.

“hnngh…love this pussy” He slurs incoherently, throwing his head back once more as his rhythm starts to become sloppy and uncoordinated. With a last shuddering whimper, the second orgasm of the morning washed over you. Your whole body convulsing as you drag your nails down the expanse of his back, his name falling from your lips in a never ending mantra. 

It didn’t take much long after that Jungkook was spilling himself into the condom, your name falling from his lips in a deep rumble. His thrusts were shallow and slow, riding out both your orgasms. He released his grip on your thighs and gently cradled your body against his chest. His weight pushed you against the mattress as his cock softened inside you.

“Holy shit” He panted against the side of your neck “I should wake you up at 6AM everyday if this is the type of sex we’ll have.” That earns him a pinch to the side by your fingers, he yelps at the feeling, reaching out to hold your hand in his. “Hey, no need to get violent…I was only joking…” The feeling of his lips curling into a smirk had you thinking otherwise. 

You roll your eyes and slowly turn your head to capture his gaze with yours. “As much as I’m enjoying this moment, I really, really need to pee.”

He lets out an incredulous scoff “Hold it in. I need affection and love, woman” He nuzzled his nose onto the side of your neck once again.

“Baby please, I’m dying here!” You wiggled in discomfort, already feeling the pressure in your lower abdomen, you hadn’t peed all night, it was only fair that he let you now. With a drawn out sigh he starts to slide his softening cock out of you, hissing as it makes contact with the cool air of the room. He collapsed next to you on the bed. You quickly slide out off the mattress and pad towards the bathroom. 

Jungkook can’t help but marvel at the sight of your bare body, the way your ass bounced with each step you took. He could already feel his cock starting to harden at the sight. “Fuck…hurry up babe! We’re far from done.”

[ateezscupid]

nerdy pervy bf yunho who instantly got red and hard whenever you wore his clothes

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST yunho sees you in his hoodie and shorts ♡

"Yunho!" You jumped up and down excitedly as you stood on the other side of the door, watching as he walked into the apartment with a tired smile. His eyes searched the room, looking for the source of the noise. When they landed on you, his expression brightened. "You're home!"

You were wearing one of his hoodies with your pretty white pajama shorts, and he couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through him at the sight. He dropped his bag on the floor, a mix of textbooks and gym clothes spilling out. "Jesus…"

"What-?" you started to ask, but the words got stuck in your throat as Yunho stepped closer, wrapping you in a bear hug that was at once comforting and overwhelming. He smelled faintly of rain and mint, the scent of the outdoors mingling with the clean scent of his deodorant. It was a smell that was uniquely him, one that never failed to make you feel safe and loved.

"Oh- okay-"

"I love when you wear my things." he murmured into your hair, his voice gruff with affection. You couldn't help but lean into his embrace, feeling the tension of the day melt away as his arms tightened around you. His hand traced patterns on your back, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

You pushed yourself closer until you felt something poking your stomach. You furrow your eyebrows. "Yunho,"

"Hm?"

"Are you hard?" You whispered the question into his ear, your voice barely audible over the sound of his steady breathing. He pulled back slightly to meet your gaze, a playful glint in his eyes.

"It's not my fault," he said with a smirk, his cheeks flushing slightly. "You just look so… tempting."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. "Well, I'm not complaining," you admitted, leaning in to kiss him lightly. His lips were warm and familiar, and the taste of mint from his breath washed over you.

He kicked the door closed behind him and picked you up, spinning around with you in his arms. You giggled, feeling lighter than air, as he carried you into the bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep the evening light at bay. He set you down gently on the bed, and you watched as he pulled off his shoes and socks, then reached for the hem of his shirt. His muscles rippled with the movement, and you felt your breath hitch in your chest.

"Yunnie~" You teased as he threw his shirt aside, his abs flexing with the motion. He chuckled, a sound that never failed to make your heart flutter. You scooted back on the bed, making room for him as he climbed in.

"Yes, baby?" He said as he climbed into bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He leaned over you, his eyes darkening with desire as he captured your mouth in a kiss that was anything but light. His hand slid under the oversized hoodie, tracing the line of your waist before moving up to cup your breast. You moaned into his mouth, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Can you eat me out-?" you mumbled against his lips, feeling a blush creep up your neck. It had been a long week and you hadn't seen him much. Your body craved his touch, the feeling of his mouth on you.

Yunho's eyes lit up, and without a word, he kissed his way down your neck, peeling off the hoodie as he went. He left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone. You shivered, arching into his touch.

When he reached the hem of your pajama shorts, he took a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes lingering on the lacy underwear you had chosen for the night. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and slowly dragged the fabric down your legs, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the room. You watched him, anticipation building in your core.

He took a moment to gaze at you, his eyes roaming over your bare skin. He leaned down to kiss the inside of your thigh, the gentle pressure of his lips leaving a trail of heat. You bit your lip to stifle a gasp as he continued his exploration, moving closer and closer to your center. His tongue flicked out to taste you, teasing your clit with feather-light strokes. You arched your back, silently begging for more.

Yunho chuckled, enjoying the way you squirmed under him. He took his time, savoring every inch of you. His tongue swirled around your clit, pressing harder, then retreating. Your hips bucked in response, seeking more of the delicious friction.

"Mmm, Yunho," you gently grabbed his hair, urging him closer as your legs fell apart. His mouth was hot and insistent, the pressure of his tongue increasing with each pass. Your breath grew ragged as he began to suck, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

You could feel your arousal building, the ache growing with every flick of his tongue. The sound of his mouth on you filled the room, a wet, intimate rhythm that echoed in your ears. Your hands tightened in his hair as you lost yourself to the sensation, the world outside the bedroom fading away to nothing.

"Yunho, please," you begged, your voice strained. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust, and then he was diving back in, his tongue pressing against you more firmly, more urgently. You felt yourself getting closer, your body tightening with each stroke.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice muffled by your cunt. "You taste so good."

The words sent a new wave of heat through you, and you bucked your hips, trying to get more of his mouth on you. He groaned in response, his hands moving to grip your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked with a fervor that was both thrilling and overwhelming. Your toes curled, your nails digging into the sheets as the orgasm built within you.

It crashed over you like a tidal wave, a powerful rush of pleasure that had you crying out his name. Your body convulsed, your muscles tightening around his tongue as the sensation washed over you. Yunho didn't stop, continuing to kiss and suck at your sensitive flesh.

"Y-Yunho! Oh my god-!" You gasped out, your eyes flying open as the intense wave of pleasure subsided. Your body was a trembling mess, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through your veins. His mouth remained on you, gently lapping at the wetness he had created, his hands still gripping your thighs.

"You're so beautiful when you come," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. You couldn't help the blush that spread across your cheeks at his words. He kissed his way back up your body, his eyes never leaving yours. When he reached your face, he captured your mouth in a kiss, the taste of yourself on his tongue.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel his warmth enveloping you. His hands roamed over your body, touching every inch of you, as if he hadn't seen you in years rather than just a few days. You moaned into his mouth, feeling yourself getting wetter with each stroke of his thumb on your clit.

"I'm gonna treat you so good, princess."

[softaestluv]

You never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is.

Mechanic! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! reader

Tags: dirty, greasy, grimy, sweaty, blue collar worker, yeah I’ll take one of those! you own a pick up, & I actually don’t know anything about cars, eventual smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 of 4 (hopefully), Ao3

You’re entirely too eager to return to ‘Ghost’s Garage.’ Maybe you walk through the front doors of the rundown shop a little early, definitely do.

Your shitty pick-up probably only needs to be topped off, but you did drive 3000 miles, and it’s not like being on top of maintenance would hurt.

So, you brush your arrival off as maintaining the integrity of your pick-up, and not the fact that sweat drenched skin and a Manchester accent hasn’t left the confines of your mind since.

Unfortunately, you’re not greeted by Simon when you arrive, instead, blonde hair is replaced with a brown Mohawk, said English accent replaced by a Scottish one.

“Oi, hello lass!” The man greets, a wide smile on his lips.

“Oh, hi,” You respond, giving him a tight smile in return, “Is Simon not here?”

“Aye, he’s busy wi’ another car right now, but ah can help ye, nae worries,” He explains, with an encouraging nod.

You try your best to hide the disappointment in your tone, but its hard when you did your hair this morning with Simon in mind, when you wore your uncomfortable pencil skirt to work with him in mind, when you showed up after work instead of on your day off because you had been hoping that you could see him just as filthy after a full days of work.

“Ah, okay,” You mumble quietly, “I just need my oil changed is all.”

You can’t help, but mourn the money you’re about to spend on an oil change you don’t really need, when the whole reason you were so adamant to return isn’t plausible. It’s too late to walk out now, how desperate would you look if you left because Simon wouldn’t be the one working on your car?

So, you accept your fate, that it wasn’t in the cards, listen to the new man’s instructions and pull your truck into the service drive.

Guilt eats at your chest because it’s not really the mohawked mans fault; he isn’t even ugly, definitely a sight for sore eyes— desperate eyes that is. He wears less than Simon had, a white tank top that’s a little too tight for him, and worn in jeans with more than one rip in them. Wears it a little braver than Simon had, smug and confident, probably a heartthrob for all the mom’s cars he works on, probably flirts with all of them too with no actual intentions, just to make them feel good.

When you park in the service drive, your wandering eyes find Simon across the garage, bent over the hood of a car. It’s not your truck; you won’t get to talk to him, but you think it’s worth it when he’s bent so low over the sedan that his white shirt rises over his hips as he reaches forward. The sliver revealed is paler than the rest of his bronzed skin, freckles littered across the lighter flesh, draws excess saliva in your cheeks, embarrassingly so, over an inch of skin.

But it makes your mind wander, filthy images of connecting the sun marks with timid fingers and shaking hesitation, find out how far down the brown freckles trail.

You don’t have to imagine for long, not when he realizes you’re standing across the garage, gawking at him with a ravenous hunger in your eyes, and starts to walk over to you. He dabs at the sweat on his hairline, makes his shirt rise even higher, reveals light brown freckles curled over his abdomen and a blonde happy trail disappearing into his coveralls.

It’s almost impossible to force your eyes up, find his gaze when he’s walking around like that. With his fucking happy trail on display between the sweat drenched skin and grimy oil marks. The spitting image of a hard working man, powerful and stout, makes a stinging warmth coil in your limbs, thighs pressing tightly together.

“Hi,” You squeak when he stops in front of you, cheeks burning hot in embarrassment because you can’t decide if getting caught drawing lewd shapes with his freckles outweighs the reward of him approaching you.

“Hi, sweeth’art.”— and you decide right then and there that getting caught was worth it when the deep timbre of his voice washes over your shoulders.

He’s positively filthy, more so than last time.

Wet, greasy.

You can smell it on him just as strongly as you can see it on his skin. Like car oil that sat out for too long, the rubber burnt off tires.

A heavy musk, acrid, pungent odor.

You have half the mind to know you should be disgusted by it, that a dirty mechanic calling you a term of endearment should crawl under your skin and make you uncomfortable, but it does the complete opposite. It’s not like you have much of a fight in that game when you were just greedily memorizing his blonde tufts of hair, picturing how it would curl over his pelvis, matted and damp from his hard work.

Even still, you’re pinpointing all the places fingerprint grease stains would imprint on your skin in his wake. How thick the layers of sweat and grime would taste on your tongue.

“Johnny, I got ‘his one, okay?” He shouts to the other side of the garage.

Johnny wears a devious smirk on his face, but Simon doesn’t let you see it for long, shifting to face you just as quickly as he wore it.

You’re not sure if you took a step forward or if Simon was standing this close to begin with. Maybe he was just truly this massive, but you have to tilt your head back just to look at him. He doesn’t necessarily make it easy either, not when he stares down at you with piercing eyes, makes you feel out of your own skin.

“You jus’ need yer oil again?” He asks.

You nod, licking your lips, “Yes, but I thought you were busy? You don’t have to stop to help.”

“Don’t y’worry,” He reassures, shaking his head, “I’ll do it, told you t’come back ‘n you listened didn’t ya?”

You can’t do anything else but nod because you did listen, practically thought of any excuse to find yourself back in his office, his thick build over your engine over you, as soon as possible.

Simon’s lips twitch at your agreement, “Jus’ sit in my office, yeah? No worries, I’ll take care of you.”

You find yourself back in Simon’s office, a warmth to your skin that you can’t seem to shake, not when you keep thinking of every imaginable way he could take care of you. It only gets worse when you perch yourself on the edge of the seat to get the best view of him working on your pick-up.

Maybe it’s something primal, but seeing his large frame bent over, working on your truck and not someone else’s sedan flares satisfaction in your chest. Especially when you watch his sweat drip from his forehead onto your engine, splattered droplets on your blue hood.

If it was anyone else it would make your stomach twist in disgust, gnawing at the back of your mind until you could wipe the hood clean, but it’s not. You’re not entirely sure why you feel this way, maybe it’s his physique that allows you to brush these things off, but it scratches at something carnal in your conscious.

You don’t get much time to appreciate the divots in his shoulders and neck like you truly wanted, like a specimen of his kind really deserves, when Johnny walks in the room. You fall back into the chair quickly, trying to hide the way you were practically leaning forward desperately to see Simon.

He wears a knowing smile, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything about it, “Didnae think ma work would be up tae par?”

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head, “No, Simon insisted.”

“Never heard of tha’ man takin’ on extra work willingly,” He jokes, leaning against the window sill— quiet irritation settling in your stomach as he covers Simon completely from your view.

“Must be that skirt yer wearin’.”

Your eyes widen, face burning, “Jus’ my work clothes.”

You’re not lying, they are your work clothes, just happen to be the more form fitting ones, is all.

“And your work clothes?” You remark, arching your brow at him, gesturing from head to toe, because his outfit is entirely more barren than yours is.

“Workin’ man’s uniform,” He shrugs nonchalantly, but he struts across the thin office and does a twirl for you, propping his hip out as he poses.

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, Simon walks into the office.

“Johnny, I thought I told ya to stop harassin’ our customers.”

“Ah’m doin’ nae such thing. Just tellin’ lass here she might’ve got oil grease on her skirt.”

You furrow your brows at his words, looking down at the front of your skirt with a pout because you really didn’t want to stain the skirt without a purpose, except you don’t see anything.

“Nae, nae,” He shakes his head, gesturing to your back.

You do a spin of sorts, arching your head to find what he’s referring to.

“Johnny.” Simon spits.

His tone has more bite to it than you completely understand, but he grabs your arm, pushing you to face forward again.

“There’s nothin’,” Simon explains.

You’re still confused, brows still pinched together, until you look at Johnny, a proud smile smeared across his face.

“Aw, come on, ye liked it jus’ as much, Si,” Johnny teases, realization dawning on you, throat constricting in embarrassment, but he mumbles an apologize when he meets Simon’s scowl.

“Your pick-ups ready for ya,” Simon says, ignoring Johnny.

You follow him out of the office gratefully, too humiliated to even think for yourself right now.

“Is it too much?” You ask Simon with a frown.

“Huh?”

You tug on the seams of your skirt as an explanation.

“Oh,” He says before pausing, “No, no ‘ts not— you look great.”

“Thank you,” You murmur bashfully, atleast you got a compliment out of the whole ordeal, “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothin’.”

“No!” You protest, “You have to let me pay you back somehow!”

You’re not prepared for the way his expression changes, irises dipping into something dark, and you’re definitely not prepared for his next request.

“Do a twirl just f’me?”

✦.─Masterlist ─.✦

[kabuki-writes]

Aeternitas Nunc Est

chapter: 7 chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Your wedding night with Emperor Geta.

warning(s): heavy smut warning | partially non consent | Geta being Geta | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: Yes, i kinda back after it took me nearly an eternity before i was able to present this smut-heavy chapter. I am not super-experienced with writing smut, but i tried my best and hope you'll like it! :) Also big thanks to all the sweet beans, who sent me well-wishes over the last weeks!

word count: 2.8

You watched the lights of Rome in the dark veil of the night, which had layed itself upon the hills of the eternal city. The royal palace sat upon one of those sacred hills, watching over the gigantic capital of the growing Empire, just like the Greek believed that the Olymp watched over their lands. This palace here was not only the residence of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla anymore, it was your home now too. You'll never get back to your families home, to your parents. With this marriage now, you were no longer in the hands of your father, but became the property of Geta. He was able to do with you as he pleased, which included an order to kill you or your family in an instant. A sword that was over your head from the day that your father betrayed the Emperors - and somehow you needed to find a way for yourself in this dangerous situation now. No privilege would save you now, your mind and your wits were your only weapons left.

Empress. It still felt surreal that this was the way you were called now. The title felt heavy on your shoulders just as the golden tiara crown of Empress Poppea on your head, while you listened to the footsteps of your husband behind you, echoing on the clean marble floor of his personal chambers as he approached you. Just as it was tradition, he'd taken you away from the celebration at one point, so that you to were able to seal this bond off with the mandatory wedding night.

Geta's hand reached out to you, taking one of the strains of your hair between his fingers, while his eyes lingered on your form, your curves hugged by the fabric of your beautiful wedding dress. Even though the thought of simply ripping your gown off your body and taking you right here right now, was an urge in his mind, he knew quite well that he had to treat you different like he did with his concubines. He needed you to surrender yourself to him, so that he could shake off the feeling of desperation he had, when he thought of you. Geta wanted you as a whole, not just your body, but your mind as well - an Empress that served him and loved him like no one else did.

„You can hate me as much as you want now. It doesn't matter", he whispered, standing close to you so that you were able to feel his hot breath against your skin. "I could kill you and your family, everything is in my hands, depending on how you play your part." Your eyes went silently to him, but you were not backing off in any way. "Then why don't you do it right now, my Emperor? Kill me and we're done with it. This wedding celebration becomes nothing more than dust and ashes then."

It were those words in this very moment, when Geta understood that he wasn't able to get you through fear. It surprised him, his irritation clearly written on his face. No one ever dared to speak with him like this, no one ever defied him in any way and yet you did - without hesitation. And while it would usually anger him, somehow in your case, he found it intruiging. Yet it also reminded him about the fact that he didn't just married you because he was able to bind General Acacius to his and his brother's rule.

His hand reached out and he traced the details of your jawline, before he placed his thumb and index finger at your chin, the tall young man basically towering you as he stood right in front of your form.

"That would be too easy, don't you think? I just presented Rome its new Empress. But let me remind you of the fact that you're nothing without me now. When my brother and i fall, so do you, which is why your father should follow our hand instead of chasing a dream that is long forgotten."

His thumb slowly ran over your lips, touching them softly as if he couldn't wait to simply kiss them. You stood still, eyes locked with him, as if you waited for him to make the first move. Maybe he thought you were a sheep, something to easily pray on like all the other women he usually got with one snap of his fingers, but despite your situation, there was still pride in you - hope even. "My father serves no one but Rome", you answered, but suddenly Geta tightened the grip on your chin. "Then you should hope that his definition of Rome is right this time. But let us stop talking about him, shall we? This is our wedding night and we both waited enough."

With those words his hands went to the brooches that held your dress together. Even though your body tensed, you knew you couldn't do anything about him being the first man to lay hands on you as he was now your husband. His dark eyes lingered on you like a wolf ready to consume his prey, especially once your dress fell from your shoulders to the ground, revealing the beautiful curves of your body.

"From the very first day i saw you, i was sure that you were the incarnation of Venus...", he mumbled, while his pale fingers traced your collarbones, the curves of your now exposed breasts, down to your hip. He took his time with it, as if he was looking at a marble statue in front of him. "Perfection."

His words rang in your ears and although it was an honor to hear those words from the mouth of an Emperor, it felt different. Otherwise, you instantly thought about the fact that his attention, his desire for you could be something useful. And you should at least try to keep him pleased if you didn't want him to think back to your father's betrayal. So out of a sudden, your hands went up to cup his cheeks, while your eyes met his. For a second he even froze in place, surprised by your sudden action. From the day you knew that a marriage with Geta was inevitable, you had to befriend the thought of induldging into something you couldn't change in any way. It was better to adapt in order to survive, better do play your part in order to gain peace - and through this, you might find a way to change the course of history?

Maybe this idea in your mind fired your bravery as you swallowed your pride and placed your lips on his. It was almost a provocation, rather than a romantic form of showing your devotion. "I might not change so quickly into the woman you expect from me", you whispered against them, his lips curving up into a wide smirk, amused by your tone shift. "Why should i want this? I enjoy our little game way too much..."

His hands suddenly grabbed your neck at the sides as he hold you in place, forcing you into another kiss, a more intense one this time. He quickly broke your hesitation with a straight entry of his tongue into your mouth, invading it like a conquerer and pushing you into a dance. You couldn't step back, you couldn't turn your head away, his fingers, the cold metal of his rings, drilled themselves into the skin on your throat and neck, imprison you in this position. It felt like an eternity until he released his lips from yours, before he brought them to your ear. "If i'd wish to fuck a submissive servant, i simply fuck one of my concubines, or a slave. You however,...", he whispered with a devilish grin on his face, which sent shivers down your spine. "It brings me much more joy, when you fight me... although i know you'll come to the point of loving me soon enough. And i will wait for it".

He didn't waste any time as he grabbed your arms and pushed you down on the the four poster bed, which was prepared for you two. A sea of pillows and blankets under the sky of heavy velvet drapes. Geta pinned you down onto the mattress as he placed kisses all over your neck, marking you as his own by leaving dark bruises on your skin. His words weren't a lie, because every time you tried to push him away with the way your body moved, he only took it as a motivation to continue in an even more craving and demanding way. There was no reason for you to keep this up for long, as it was not changing anything. Slowly his one hand creeped between your legs before he touched your sancturary, which was never been owned by any man before. With a grin, he coated his fingers with the wetness on your entrance, as he felt how your body shivered under his touch. "So you are not devoted to me yet? Then why are you wet like the ocean down there?", Geta whispered teasingly into your ear, while he pushed two fingers into you, causing you to gasp.

In fact, Geta was no brute. He could come off as a cruel man, but he knew that you were untouched, so he took his time to enjoy your body, while also preparing you for what's to come. In a way, he didn't want to hurt you, even though it was hard for him to hold back. His lips found their way from your neck to your breasts, while he stimulated your clitoris slowly with his fingers. There was no doubt that Geta was experienced, no surprisingly given the horde of concubines he called his own. But none of those women ever gave him the same satisfaction as you did in this moment. The feeling of your soft, skin under his lips was electrifying for him, while he went down to place kisses on your chest and lick over one of your nipples before he teasingly bit it with his teeth.

You couldn't clench your teeth together forever, while you tried so desperately to resist. There was still a form of resistance in you, as you didn't want to surrender your body so easily to the touch of a man that had threatened your family and force you into marriage. But it got harder, when the first sounds of pleasure escaped your lips, which incited Geta to keep going. The way your nipples grew hard under the touch of his tongue and the sucking of his lips was a divine example for him how you would soon tear down your wall freely. Out of a sudden, he reached for your wrist and forced your hand to the hem of his robes. "Go on, take them off", his demanding whisper catched your ear and you couldn't explain why your body simply followed his orders. Maybe a twisted 'excitement' guided your hands as you shoved his toga off his shoulders, following his belt and his tunica, the heavy brocade fabrics falling down to the white marble grounds, before you were able to see his body for the very first time.

Geta was the embodiment of the dissolute Emperor, whose main role from his early childhood was to become the most powerful man in all of Rome. The days his father had forced him onto the battlefield where long over, he hated the mere thought of dirt, hard work and the smell of a camp of legionaries. His body was pale as if he'd never seen the sunlight, a reminder how priviledged the Emperor's truly were in difference to the rest of Rome. Even though he wasn't seen as a strong man, who could fight against a gladiator, his slender body was still decorated by light and defined muscles. All those parties, the drinking and whoring aside, Geta did care for his body out of the fear to end up ill like his damned father, who died pathetically in his bed. But the most present part for you now was Geta's hardened erection, ready to have his moment, pre-cum already glistening in the dim light of the oil lamps that surrounded you. Your heart pounded against your chest, almost as if it would rip out of your skin at any given moment - like a prey in front of a predator and yet you stared into his eyes in defiance.

Oh how he was turned on by this beautiful defiance in your eyes, the thinking that you will never surrender yourself to a God. It motivated him to turn those tables, to make you scream his name as he would fuck you to elysium. And with that in his mind, he grabbed your wrists and pinned you down, bringing his body between your legs as he spreaded them. His hips blocking your possibility to push your legs together again. His face went down to your face, as he forced a hungry and predatory kiss onto your lips, your tongue fighting against his, before your suddenly bit his lip during the battle of dominance. Geta's head shot back, his dark eyes staring at you before a laugh escaped his lips again. "I have a pretty bold wife, so hesitant!"

"Call me your wife, but i will never love you!", you quickly hissed back, showing him the hate that had built up in your stomach with every second passing, but he didn't care at all. His grin spoke more than a thousand words. Without a warning, he slowly pushed himself into you. He could've simply thrust in you, not caring for your pain in any way which was hard to avoid when a woman lost her virginity. But it was softer than he inicially intended to be. You wanted to curse him, but all you were able to get out of your mouth, when you felt how the stinging pain got replaced with a different feeling, something more carnal, was a moan through your clenched teeth. Geta didn't need to hold himself back, the dark moan that came from his lips only mirrowed the pleasure he felt, when a tight cunt held his hardened cock. "I don't need your love, it'll come sooner or later. What i want now is your body, surrendered to me... and trust me, you will stop fighting me". With those words, the young Emperor began to thrust into you, starting with slow movements, while his one hand was still holding his position beside your head, the other was holding your wrists above your head to avoid any form of resistance.

Not that you could resist anyways, there was never a way out from the day your wedding got announced. Seeing his lust shimmering in his dark eyes, which were focused on your face, watching how you tried so desperately to not show him any form of pleasure, it felt like a torture. Geta knew what he did, he knew how to treat your body to get his desired reaction. And once he felt your resistance cracking down under the deep thrusts, while your bodies were starting to move in unison, he loosened the grip around your wrists. "I might've made a mistake... you're not so bold as you think you are", he groaned, before your eyes shut open and you grabbed his shoulders. Not bold enough... His voice haunted your head. You didn't surrender, maybe it was time to set new rules. With a devilish grin, he wrapped his arm around your hip and switched the positions with one movement. You found yourself on his lap, but one of your hand already found its way in his short gingerblonde hair, which you grabbed and pulled, before your hip moved against his. In this position, you were the one to look down on him, while he was able to easily hit your deepest core with his dick. "Now you got claws?", he whispered, but you didn't fall for his provocation and continued to ride him with a newly fired self-esteem, that even surprised him. But it wasn't as if he was able to think more about it in this very moment, when his fingers pressed into the skin of your ass, while he hold you down, the moment he shot his load in you. The semen that may carry an heir into your womb, a legacy Geta wished for himself - and not for his brother. A lineage that started from him and him alone. It was a good timing as your body 'surrendered' as well, your moan filling this room with your shared high, the only true implementation of a marriage.

Now you were truly his wife. Married to an Emperor. An Empress.

____________________________

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[krazycat6167]

Say No

(written for @keferon’s Apocalyptic Ponyo AU. A bit of Jazz and Prowl set after most of the events of the au. Enjoy!)

-.-.-.-

Prowl watches from the sidelines as Jazz goes through yet another interview. He can’t shake the feeling that there is something off with Jazz. That there is something that isn’t right. 

Oh sure, Jazz looks happy, but Prowl doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t trust it though, so he’s scrutinizing Jazz and his behavior to try and figure it out. 

The other orca mer is smiling, talking as animated as he usually does (though notably trying to be polite by staying in one general area), using his hands as he speaks. Those are normal Jazz things to do, even if he seems a bit…more Jazz-y? He’s using a bit more inflection, slightly more exaggerated movements, a smidge extra charm behind the smile. The effect is entertaining, sure, but-.

But…he is…being entertaining. He is here, in an interview, answering questions both benign and personal, and he is putting on a show. 

Prowl’s gaze flicks around the room. Multiple cameras, stage lights, a dazzled audience. 

The interviewer, masterfully directing Jazz through the narrative with light and heavy topics and making sure to end on a high note. 

Jazz, big movements, big personality, put on display like a thing to be marveled at. 

A large grin that had been bothering Prowl the whole time because it is wrong. And now he knows it’s because it is fake. 

When the interview ends and Jazz swims offstage, Prowl takes his arm and leads him away. Away from the crowds, the lights, the cameras. Just away. From everything. Anyone who even thinks of approaching the two as they leave take one look at Prowl's hard expression and become too scared to even try. 

“While I enjoy swimming with you,” Jazz says when they are properly away from everyone, “is there a reason we left so quick?”

“You were uncomfortable.” Prowl answers. 

“Is that so?” Jazz says, amused. 

Prowl stops and turns to Jazz, stopping the other mer cold with a hard stare. “Yes, you were. You were putting on a show like it was still an obligation you owed for living somewhere when in reality you don’t owe anyone anything of yourself that you don’t want to give.”

The fact that Jazz looks shocked by this makes Prowl’s heart clench painfully. 

Prowl takes both of Jazz’s large hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he says while giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, “that I didn’t see it sooner. You did so many interviews and I didn’t see how similar they were to that tank until now.”

“Wha- hey, no,” Jazz brings their hands closer to his chest. “don’t apologize for this when it wasn’t even your fault. They asked to hear my story and-“

“And you could’ve told them no.” Prowl interrupts. “You don’t have to do these things anymore. You can say no. You can leave off you want. You aren’t confined to a small space anymore with no escape and no privacy. You can say no.”

“I- I can say no.” Jazz whispers like it’s revelation straight from the vents below. “I can leave.”

“You don’t have to do things you don’t want.”

Jazz floats there, clutching Prowls hands to his chest like they’re a lifeline, as his gaze drifts down in thought. “What I want…”

Slowly, Jazz looks up at Prowl. “I want you to show me that Crystal Reef you were talking about.”

Prowl smiles. “This way then.”

-.-.-.-

Two of the things Jazz loves about Mer society are the pouches that he can carry stuff—his stuff—in and the phones. After years of seeing humans use them (filming him, taking pictures of him), he now has one of his very own. An underwater phone, a fish phone, a fone (“It’s funny Prowler, trust me.”). It’s awesome!

Not very awesome right this second though. 

It’s vibrating, meaning someone is calling him. The screen only shows a frequency instead of a name, meaning it’s someone he doesn’t know. 

He sees Prowl look at him curiously from where he’s been sunbathing next to him as Jazz answers.

“Hello?”

“Hello! I am Undertow, a reporter with The Tuning Trident. Is this Jazz?”

Jazz sits up. “Yeah, I’m Jazz.”

“Excellent!” Undertow says, chipper. “We have been working on an article covering your story and the trials you went through. We here at The Tuning Trident are dedicated to bringing our readers the most accurate information that we can provide and we were wondering if you could come over sometime within the next few days to answer a few questions we have about your experience.”

Jazz freezes. He…doesn’t really want to talk about it with reporters anymore. He’ll just have to politely turn them down. 

Jazz opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His throat is suddenly dry. He swallows his trepidation and tries again. “Uh…”

Is that it? Is that all he can bring himself to say that isn’t a fake and enthusiastic agreement?

The reporter on the phone starts talking again. “Of course, if coming in is an inconvenience, we can have a small team come to you to conduct the interview. We are very flexible here, so whatever may be best for you, we can certainly work with!”

That was even worse! He didn’t want nosy strangers coming to his favorite spots!

But he still can’t say no. 

His gaze flicks to Prowl, desperately and silently pleading for help. 

Prowl sits up and holds his hand open to Jazz. Jazz gives him the phone. 

“I regret to inform you,” Prowl says with no regret or remorse, “that Jazz won’t be doing any interviews for the time being.”

“It’ll just be a quick thing.” Undertow promises in a small tinny voice that Jazz can still hear. “Only a couple of questions to clarify a few facts.”

“No.”

“I- but- who is this? Who are you to speak for Jazz?”

“His manager.” Prowl's tone turns cold. “He is not available for an interview at this time.”

“Why not?”

“Jazz has his reasons and he doesn’t owe them to you. Good day.”

“Wait, if you could just tell us-“

“No.” Prowl hangs up. “The nerve of some Mer, it’s like they forgot that you're an apex- urk!”

Jazz hugs him, eyes shut tight, tucking his head into Prowl’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Thank you.” He whispers, voice wobbly. 

Prowl returns the hug, using one hand to cradle Jazz’s head. “Of course. You deserve some peace.”

“I tried.” Jazz says to Prowl’s shoulder. “I wanted to say no. I tried but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get that one word out and I tried.”

“I know.” Prowl pats Jazz’s head through his beanie. “It’s okay. You keep trying. And until you are able, I can say no for you whenever you need.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

[sirenpearldust]

Found You 3

Baby Daddy Azriel!

Series masterlist ⋆ Part two ⋆ Part four

Pair: Azriel x Spring Court! Reader

Word count: 4.369

Warning: violence, domestic abuse

Summary: Chaos enters Spring

The clock was ticking and your eyes were on it. He was late - again.

You and Amias had been waiting for Azriel, he should have arrived hours ago. It was already ten past twelve.

“Mama, is Daddy coming?”

“Yes, darling. He is probably just busy for a bit longer.”

Azriel’s visits had been irregular over the past few weeks. Sometimes, he sent letters explaining that work was keeping him away. 

Nine days had passed since Amias had last seen him.

You could see the sadness in his eyes. He tried to hide it, but you saw the unshed tear.

His toys laid forgotten around him, his small wings were drooping on the floor and his shadows curled around him, just like Azriel’s always did.

He could barely sleep the night before, too excited about training with his father and spending time with him. At dawn, he had woken you up just to gush about how cool his father was- how tall, how strong.

You had smiled, glad that Azriel had been a good father since getting to know Amias. But still, you remained cautious. The irregular visits were starting to wear on you.

Where is he?

He could have at least sent a letter?!

A knock echoed at the door.

“Come in,” you said, hoping, for your son’s sake, that it was news of his father.

Instead, a servant stepped inside, bowing slightly. 

“My lady, the Autumn Court heir has arrived and requests an audience. He says it is of utmost importance.”

You exhaled sharply. 

What now?

Nodding, you rose to your feet, silently praying this had nothing to do with Azriel’s disappearance.

“Nara, take care of Amias,” you instructed.

But before you could take a step, Amias stood up, his small frame trembling. Tears spilled down his red cheeks as he ran to you, clinging tightly to your leg.

“Mommy,” he whimpered.

“Baby, it’s okay. I promise I’m coming back,” you whispered, running a gentle hand through his dark curls.

But he only sobbed harder, his little hands gripping your blue dress with all the strength he had.

“D-Dont… please. Daddy is already gone… please don’t leave too,” he hiccuped, his voice breaking, as he sobbed louder.

Your heart burned. Kneeling down, you cupped his tear-streaked face.

“Amias, listen to me. Mommy is just going to talk to Uncle Eris and see if he knows something about Daddy, okay? I won’t gone long.”

He kept crying, though and guilt sank deep into your chest. This was your fault. You should have been more attentive, should have reassured him more, should have…

You swallowed hard. Now he thinks you’ll disappear too and that also because you were busy with work.

Something tugged at you, an uneasy feeling.

“Nara, please take care of him,” you said, forcing yourself to step back.

She gently tried prying him from your arms, but he would not let go. 

“No, mommy p-please d-don’t”

His hand stretched out to you as he tried getting out of her arms.

You were sick seeing your son like this. Anger burned beneath your skin, you were angry at your self, at Azriel, at life and your duties.

You turned on your heel with a heavy heart, storming toward the room where Eris was waiting, your patience long gone.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

Stepping into the room, you froze, stunned by what you saw.

What in the abomination is this?

Your jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as you glared at Eris.

“I left my son alone for this?” you bit out, tilting your head toward the older Archeron sister standing beside him. Her head was ducked down and you could only see the mop of light brown hair she shared with her younger sister. It fell in a messy low bun. The resemblance between them was striking.

“Let me explain,” Eris said quickly, positioning himself between the both of you.

“You have five minutes. Do you understand?” Your voice was sharp, edged with barely restrained fury.

Turning you glared at Nesta Archeron, adding, “And you’d better not cause trouble in my court, like your sister”

Without waiting for a response, you turned. Eris followed you to your office, a space where no one could overhear or interrupt.

The moment the door shut behind you, you crossed your arms.

 “Talk.”

“She needs to stay here, she can’t stay anywhere else,” Eris said, his tone clipped.

You arched a brow, then let out a sharp laugh, slow-clapping your hands. 

“Are you serious, Eris?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. 

“Having an Archeron in Spring started this whole mess in the first place.”

“It’s different this time,” he said, but you only laughed bitterly.

Walking toward him, you raised your voice, pointing your finger sharply at his chest, pushing him back. His jaw clenched, a muscle in his cheek twitching, he hated when you did that.

“She’s mated to the Night Court’s general, for gods’ sake. Have you lost your mind. Hiding her here, kidnapping her, will bring war to both our doorsteps. I have Amias to think about for Gods sake.”

“I know but I swear, it’s not the same,” Eris insisted.

“It is.” Your voice sharpened. 

“Have you forgotten what happened the last time? When the night court whore, her sister might I add, was here?”

Eris hesitated. “That’s… different.”

“How the fuck is this different?” Your brow furrowed.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled red hair.

“Because Rhysand wants her dead.”

Your confusion deepened. “What? What do you mean he wants her dead? She’s his mates sister?”

“I know. It’s just things have been happening,” Eris muttered, his frustration evident. He licked his lips before sinking into a chair. For the first time, you truly looked at him, his usually pristine clothes were wrinkled, his hair an unkempt mess.

“What the hell is going on?” you demanded.

He sighed. “We’ve been exchanging letters for a while. And that brute she’s mated to-let’s just say he hasn’t been kind to her.”

Your stomach twisted. “Be specific, Eris. I’m going to live with her, I need to know how I’m gonna take care of her.”

You meant your words, your mother had been through abuse in her first marriage, before she met your father.

His amber eyes met yours, filled with something between anger and sadness. 

“They’ve kept her locked in that house, forced her to work with him, train against her will, to endure his verbal abuse.”

You exhaled sharply. “Eris, if your feelings are involved he could challenge you to a blood duel, and what if she changes her mind and wants to go back?”

“She doesn’t want to go back, he’s been cruel, they’ve been cruel. He wants children, he tried impregnating her, guilting her into not drinking the potion. She was miserable there.

She left them a goodbye letter saying she fled to the Continent and found a man while working. No one knows she’s here. No one knows I’m involved. She covered her tracks. Lucien is taking care of the rest.”

You leaned against your desk, rubbing your temples. 

“She won’t be safe in Spring if they find out.”

“Then hide her in your manor, just until I figure something out.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You mean until you figure out how to deal with your father which, might I add, Night is supposed to be helping you with.”

Your voice dropped into a harsh whisper.

“Eris, you need them as your ally. I’ve been talking to Helion, but he hasn’t been responding well to this plan of ours. He’s worried about your mother’s life and now with Nesta in the game,” you said, your voice firm, as you crossed your arms.

“He is not supposed to be involved, he’s at fault for her misery in the first place. I have everything under control,” Eris snapped, frustration evident in his tone.

You laughed bitterly.

“You just showed me how much control you have. Helion needs to be involved because your mother is his mate, just like Nesta is Cassian’s mate. Do you see how many problems this might cause?”

His glare was sharp, his jaw clenched in anger. “And what about your mate?” he seethed.

Your powers flared to life, vines curling slowly behind your back, twisting with an almost dangerous grace. 

“That’s a new low, Eris,” you said coldly. “Mind your tongue.”

The room pulsed with the intensity of your anger, your gaze locked with his as the vines continued to unravel.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have.”

Eris clenched his jaw and he didn’t argue further.

You exhaled. “ She can stay, under the condition that she follows my rules.”

“She will,” Eris said.

 “She won’t be harmed. She’ll be treated with dignity and respect. I promise”

Eris stood up, stepping closer. His expression softened as he placed his hands gently around you.

Then, with a quiet exhale, he hugged you. It was hesitant at first, as if he was afraid you might still push him away. But when you didn’t, he tightened his grip, pulling you tighter.

 He needed the reassurance and to be honest you needed it too. You were touch starved. 

The last time this had happened, you were both sixteen, young, reckless and untouched by the burdens that now were weighing on you. 

That night, in the quiet of the woods, you had made a bargain to always protect eachother and be loyal to one another.

Now, years later, everything was different. And yet, for the briefest moment, as you stood in his arms, it felt like nothing had changed at all, like it was before the duties and the wars that had hardened you both.

But for just a second, you let yourself rest in the warmth of his embrace.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“You know I still owe you Amias’ life and mine,” you murmured.

Eris nodded, understanding in his gaze.

“Tell him I love him,” he added softly, “and that I’m sorry I brought no presents this time.”

“I will.”

You exhaled, stepping back. “Now go, before I kick you out.”

Eris smirked. “Fine. I’ll come back later tonight.”

With that, you turned and walked out, making your way back to Amias.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

As you entered the room, your heart clenched. He had fallen asleep on the floor beside his toys, his small frame curled up, his wings enveloping his body as if he was hiding. His eyes fluttered open as he sensed your presence, his shadows slithered toward you, wrapping around your wrists as they tugged you closer to him.

“Has his father arrived?” you asked Nara quietly.

She shook her head. “Not even a letter, my lady.”

You swallowed the frustration rising in your throat.

Kneeling beside Amias, you gently brushed a curl from his damp cheek.

 “Amias,” you whispered.

He stirred, slowly sitting up, his puffy, red-rimmed eyes locking onto yours. He must have cried himself to sleep.

Guilt twisted in your chest. You cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mommy had to talk with Uncle Eris.”

He blinked up at you. “Uncle Eris?”

You smiled faintly. “He’s sorry he couldn’t stay and he loves you very much.”

Amias nodded, rubbing at his tired eyes. Then, hesitantly, he asked, “Where is Daddy?”

You winced.

“Your father is coming later tonight,” you assured him.

“But he’ll make it up to you. He loves you very much, angel.”

Another small nod. But this time, there was hesitation in his expression, doubt creeping in.

“Will he come back?”

“Of course,” you said gently. “It’s just work.”

He nodded again, but sadness lingered in his gaze.

You pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, my sweet boy.”

He curled into your arms and as you held him. The thought of leaving him again, even just to deal with your new guest made your chest tighten.

But there was no choice.

You had a mess to clean up.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

Before you even reached the room, you could hear the shouting.

Multiple voices clashed over one another, servants hurriedly rushing away and power crackled in the air like a brewing storm.

Azriel was back.

Eris didn’t know about your bargain. You scolded yourself for the oversight, for not anticipating this. 

Heart pounding, you pushed forward, stepping into the chaos.

The scene before you was nothing short of a battlefield. The eldest Archeron sister stood behind Eris, half-hidden. Meanwhile, Lucien and Azriel were locked in a furious shouting match, their magic glowing.

Without hesitation, you slammed the heavy door shut.

Silence.

All heads snapped toward you, the tension thick enough to suffocate. The only sound left in the room was the sharp clack of your heels against the marble floor as you strode forward.

Azriel was a mess. His leathers were torn, his face bruised and bloodied, his normally pristine hair disheveled. He looked like he’d been in a fight, a bad one. But none of the others bore a single scratch. Whatever had happened, it had been before he came here.

You came to a stop in front of him, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. His massive wings were flared wide, casting a dark shadow over you. His golden-hazel eyes, now looking like liquid gold were locked onto Eris, his shadows writhing around him like vipers, ready to strike.

“Azriel,” you whispered.

He didn’t move. Didn’t look at you. His gaze stayed fixed on Eris, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Turning away from him, you addressed the others. 

“How the fuck can he enter?” Lucien demanded, his voice sharp.

“I will explain it later,” you promised, exhaling through your nose. 

“That was an oversight on my part.”

Eris stood firm, Nesta’s hand clasped tightly in his. She pressed herself further behind him, looking fragile, she was too thin, to small. Your gaze flicked back to Eris, searching his face for the anger you knew was brewing beneath his carefully controlled expression.

“I will take care of it,” you said, voice steady.

 “I promise you, nothing is as it seems right now. She is safe and welcome here.”

The bargain between you pulsed, a reminder to Eris of the vow you had made. 

Eris’s jaw tensed, his features hardening for a moment before something in him relented. He believed you. Even if his body remained coiled tight with tension, his grip on Nesta’s hand loosened just slightly.

“Lex will see that you are accommodated, undisturbed and left in peace,” you said evenly. Your voice left no room for argument. “No one will harm you in my home.”

The three walked out and Azriel moved to follow, but you grabbed his wrist gently.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice firm yet soft.

His jaw clenched in frustration. He didn’t pull away, but his posture stiffened, as if he were ready to break.

When the door clicked shut behind them, Azriel’s eyes focused solely on you. His wings were still spread wide, his golden eyes locked onto yours, intense and piercing.

You felt small in front of him, towering over you like a giant, but you felt no fear. His presence was overwhelming, yet strangely comforting. His shadows reached out, enveloping your body in a cool, almost soothing embrace. They were like a second skin.

“Sit,” you said, motioning toward the chair opposite you.

He hesitated for a moment before lowering himself into the seat, his body still tense as if every muscle was on alert.

Your gaze scanned his body as you took in the damage. His knuckles were swollen, the deep bruises darkening his skin. His body was covered in cuts and bruises.

Kneeling infront of him you softly took his hand, gently healing it with your magic. You moved slowly, deliberately, feeling the power flow through you, soothing the pain in his injured hand.

“Where were you?” you asked quietly, focusing on his hand, avoiding looking into his eyes for a moment.

His voice was rough as he answered, his gaze never leaving you. 

“Searching.”

“For the eldest, I presume?” you asked, your fingers intertwined with his.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours as you worked, your touch soft but deliberate.

You bent his hand gently to assess the damage.

Azriel liked the quiet, how quiet his head was with you right now. His heart began to pound, a realisation dawning on him. He liked the way you touched him, how soft and careful you were, just like you used to be.

Bending his hand back, you asked, “Does it hurt?”

He shook his head, though the faint wince in his expression suggested otherwise.

Your face softened, but your words were anything but gentle. 

“The next time you come like this into my house, I will skin you and string you up for everyone to see.”

Azriel’s breath caught at the sharpness of your tone, his chest tightening. Before he could respond, you interrupted him, your voice cutting through the moment.

“Let me heal your face,” you said quietly, your voice softer again.

You reached up to touch his face, your magic cold against his burning wounds. As your fingers grazed his skin, he closed his eyes, the sensation both soothing and unsettling. He shouldn’t feel good about this, about the way your touch calmed him, about the way it made something stir deep inside him. He had thought of you as someone who had wronged him, someone he should stay away from. But now, something about your presence made him feel a pull that he couldn’t explain, like he had to tell you everything.

“Cassian,” he said, his voice rough, barely a whisper as his mind swirled with confusion.

“What?” you asked softly, focusing on his face as your magic worked.

“It was Cassian,” he said again, this time his voice strained. 

“He’s the one who did this to me.”

“Why would he…?” you asked, still working on his face, your fingers lingering near his lips.

Blood was dripping down his chin, he must have bit it open again.

Azriel’s breath was shallow as he struggled to make sense of his emotions.

“He’s going mad,” he murmured, his voice tight.

“Because of Nesta?” you asked.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed, his tone bitter, almost defeated.

Your fingers lingered a moment longer, pressing gently to his lips, trying to heal the blood that still trickled from the cut. His heartbeat quickened, every nerve responding to your touch. His eyes met yours and for a split second, the world seemed to fall away. Desire stirred deep inside him he just hoped you wouldn’t notice. He wanted to kiss you, feel your lips against his once again, to stop pretending everything had been fine. But that would complicate everything. You would kill him if he tried.

He had been dreaming of you since the moment he saw you again, after four long years. And now, as your touch lingered on his skin, it felt like he had been pulled back in time

Before everything went wrong.

His thoughts were interrupted by your words, cutting through his thought. 

“That your High Lord said he would execute her?” you asked, your voice bringing him back to the present.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely audible, breathless.

“Azriel,” your voice was soft, a gentle whisper that seemed to draw him in, your words wrapping around him like a siren’s call. He shut his eyes, groaning quietly, hoping you wouldn’t notice how his body reacted to your closeness.

“It was Rhys, not Cassian,” he responded, his voice hoarse.

“I don’t think a mate would leave another if they felt safe, right?” you pressed, your gaze steady, a challenge in your voice.

Azriel’s eyes met yours again, his breath hitching. He noticed the way your fingers glided over his skin, tenderly healing the cuts Cassian had left. His face was swollen, bruised, luckily, his jaw wasn’t broken and it seemed most of the wounds would heal fairly easily.

“He’s been kind of an asshole to her,” Azriel muttered, his voice rough as he tried to explain. “He’s been working and stressed a—”

“Would you have treated your mate like this?” you interrupted, the question almost too soft, too easy for him to answer.

You cradled his face gently, the light from your magic casting a soft blue glow around the room, healing his injuries as you continued to hold him. His eyes stayed locked with yours as you worked, his breath steadying despite the chaos inside. He felt lightheaded with how close you were to him.

“Never,” Azriel whispered, his voice tight. He licked his dry lips, his gaze never wavering from yours.

“Then why would it be okay for him to?”

Azriel swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. You weren’t wrong. Everything inside him wanted to defend Cassian, to defend the bond between mates, but the truth was hard to deny. He had failed to protect Nesta.

“I know your brother is in pain, but so is she,” you said softly, you almost had him.

Azriel’s jaw tightened beneath your touch, his breath quickening. His scarred hands moved to gently hold your wrists, as if to remove them from his face, but he winced at the pain.

Gently, you moved your hand over his chest, your fingers tracing his worn leathers. With delicate care, you unbuttoned his jacket, exposing the bruised skin underneath. His broken ribs made it difficult to breathe, you could see his discomfort. You began to heal him, the cool light of your magic glowing softly against his injured skin.

As the adrenaline slowly left his body, the pain seemed to hit him all at once. His eyes closed briefly, but when they opened again, they locked onto yours. 

“You won’t tell them where she is,” you whispered, your voice unwavering.

His breath caught as your hands continued to work, moving to the buttons of his clothes, carefully unfastening his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

“Our son needs to be safe in his home,” you said meeting his lidded eyes.

“And you’ll make sure that nesta location wont be revealed either, just like you promised, right?”

Azriel let out a soft whimper.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as your hands continued their work.

Your hands moved carefully across his skin, over his chest to his throat. You stood up, now almost taller than him, tracing the handprint left on his throat.

“You’ll keep Nesta and us safe, right?” 

Azriel nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a promise in them.

“It’s a bargain then,” you said softly.

“Yes” He said without hesitation, you felt a small burn behind your ear, you would check it out later.

You continued to heal him, your fingers gently brushing across the scarred surface of his hand. Something inside you stirred, something small, but it was there. You would deal with it later.

“Good,” you said, your voice returning to its usual firmness.

Standing straight, you broke the moment, your voice sharp and composed once more. 

“Button up your pants. I’ll send another healer to take over.”

“I have to talk to the others,” you added, your words cold once again, as if nothing had changed.

Azriel looked up at you in confusion he wa so confuse about . “What?”

Azriel felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs.

His fingers twitched where they rested on his thighs, his mind still catching up to what had just happened. The warmth of your hands still lingered on his skin, but it had been a lie. You had just guided him exactly where you wanted, let him believe he was safe with you, that he could be vulnerable, just for a moment.

But you had never meant for it to be anything more than a transaction.

A bargain.

His stomach twisted, he felt sick. He should have known better. He should have seen it coming. 

His jaw tightened as he watched you pull away, as if nothing had happened. The warmth in your voice was gone, replaced by that same cold, detached authority you always wielded so well.

He had been played.

And the worst part?

It wasn’t just anger that was coiling in his chest. It was something else, something darker, more dangerous.

Because for the first time in years, he had felt something real with you again. And he had no idea if he hated you for it… or if he wanted more.

“Amias has been waiting and crying all day,” you said, your eyes narrowing slightly. 

“He’s been missing you. We’ll also need to have a conversation about that.”

Azriel’s face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes.

“Rest,” you said firmly. “You need it.”

He hesitated for a moment before standing up. His face, though no longer bruised visibly, still held the exhaustion and pain of the day. 

“Let me see him first,” he requested quietly.

“You’re still hurt,” you said, pointing at him. “He’ll notice.”

His jaw clenched. 

“Let me see him. Do I always have to beg you?” His voice was a mixture of frustration and hurt.

You didn’t flinch, your eyes locking onto his with a coldness that was never this vicious.

 “Careful,” you said, your voice icy. It was a warning, a sharp reminder of the boundaries you’d set.

Azriel gulped, his posture stiffening before he slowly sank back into the chair, visibly deflated.

“You’ll see him when the healer allows it,” you added, your words leaving no room for argument.

With one final glance, you turned on your heel and walked out, the door closing behind you with a soft click, leaving Azriel to wrestle with his frustration and the worst day he might have had in a long century.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

Walking past the open window, you reached out and grabbed the white cat by the scruff of its neck. It let out a terrible, loud meow, its green eyes glaring at you with all the rage it could muster.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to, you little shit,” you muttered, holding it up to eye level.

The cat hissed, its tail lashing in irritation, but you didn’t let go. You simply kept walking, its tiny body dangling from your grip as it continued to yowl at you.

Taglist for Found you is closed!

Please leave some comments 💜

Also Anon I’ve thought about Eris and Nesta and this is for you✨ I hope you like it 😘

Still working on their story

[weirdrandomtina]

So, I experienced some deju vu during this scene in Trolls Band Together:

John Dory grabs his backpack, says he's leaving (I'm done, YOLO, etc.), and then the last thing he says is "Goodbye Forever!", followed by Branch's distraught face, and the next thing Branch knows, all his brothers have left him and he never sees them again.

I was trying to figure out why that little snippet stuck with me, then it hit me:

Trolls Holiday in Harmony, when Branch is trying to figure out a gift for Poppy. He's worried about doing the wrong thing, disappointing her or freaking her out, and says "I CAN'T let that happen". He illustrates his point with Poppy packing a suitcase, and what does she say right before she runs off?

Really brings his abandonment issues into the light😢

I've seen a few comments of people being annoyed when Branch said to Poppy "aren't you going to leave me anyway", but they clearly don't understand how trauma affects people's mental and emotional state.

He knows Poppy loves him and doesn't actually believe she'd leave, but after a lifetime of being alone, even though he's happy and loved now, there's still that subconscious fear that he'll end up alone again. Poppy means everything to him, and he can't bear the thought of losing her too, especially as a result of something he's done (his grandma died to save him, and he believed his brothers leaving was his fault because he 'ruined everything' at the concert).

Sometimes this results in Branch trying to push Poppy away, which seems conflicting, yes, but again: trauma messes with your mind. He was already heartbroken and angry at his brothers, so he wasn't thinking clearly and blurted out his hidden main fear.

And when he says "everyone else [leaves me]" I hear "everyone in my life has left me so I must deserve to be alone, so you might as well leave me too."

And that's probably why Branch was so hesitant to be open with Poppy - 1. I might scare her away, and 2. why bother expressing my feelings to someone when I'll likely just lose them anyway. Plus he's still getting used to having someone to confide to in his life. Keeping emotions bottled up for years is a hard habit to get out of.

[cannibal-walleye]

First Meeting

"You guys shoulda seen it!" Impulse proclaimed loudly, tail swinging wildly with excitement. "I mean, Tango was great, but the lead singer—" The demon whistled.

"That good, huh?" Gem asked with a look that promised teasing should Impulse say much more.

He didn't heed the warning. "Yes, that good! I wish you guys had come; it actually blew me away. Like, the drums and piano blended perfectly, and so many of the songs made me want to start dancing right then and there," he gushed, pausing only for a moment to take a sip from his water bottle.

Scott, meanwhile, waved his phone at him, the screen displaying a pink heart that was on fire. "This is the same Heart Foundation you saw, right?"

"You found their insta already!" the demon beamed, reaching to grab it before the blizz snatched the phone away, blizz rods whirling happily.

"A'course I did, I am a professional. We need to do as much research as we can on your new crush before he can have our approval," Scott teased, scrolling through photos and posts.

"It's not a crush," he pouted, though he didn't bother with defending the claim against Gem's snort.

The warden peeked over Scott's shoulder, watching the photos fly past. "You said he's an angel, right?" she asked, glancing back at Impulse. She picked up her cocktail, taking a sip while the demon replied.

"Yeah, an angel. He's got these massive white wings, plus little pink ones on the sides of his head—though, I don't know if that was the lighting or dye or natural. Either way, they matched his suit perfectly, I didn't know it was possible for someone to look so good in hot pink! And- and! He's absolutely jacked, his arms were like the barrel of a cannon—and his hair also had hot pink streaks in it, and-"

"Like this?" Scott cut him off before he could ramble more, showing a photo of the angel, his arm slung around Tango as both of them laughed at the camera. He wasn't wearing the pink suit, just a tank top and sweats, but damn, if he didn't look just as hot, scars and muscles on full display.

Impulse's tail curled happily, a purr rumbling in his chest. "Yes, that's him! What does it say? Is his name on there, any other info about their next performance—though, I could just ask Tango when I see him-"

"You don't even know his name?" Gem interrupted, incredulous.

"I was distracted, okay?" he tried to defend, feeling a blush creeping up his cheeks. "I was taking a video for Tango while he was introducing everyone, and his voice was just so smooth, I couldn't really focus on the actual words. It's not my fault!"

They just giggled at him, Gem's elbow coming up to prod Scott, who looked up from the phone. Surprise flashed across his face, but it quickly turned to a teasing grin to match Gem's.

"You were distracted, hmm? Too busy eyeing up the hot angel to pay any attention?" the blizz asked, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

"I think so," the warden agreed before Impulse could defend himself. "Enamored with a complete stranger, our little Impy's all grown up~" she teased, eyes narrowing as though daring him to disagree.

He rolled his eyes, taking another long drink from his water; playing earlier had really left him drained, but not quite drained enough to sit out Tango's performance, despite Gem and Scott abandoning him to go get drinks. Impulse sighed happily, the image of the angel silhouetted by the backlighting still fresh in his mind, not to mention the memory of his voice. He'd need to ask the blaze hybrid later how they had met.

"So what if I am?" he argued, hands coming up to rub away the growing flush on his face. "I mean, he's friends with Tango, so he's gotta at least be a chill dude, plus he was so funny during the show, he interacted with the audience perfectly—honestly, Gem, you should be taking notes."

Her mouth fell open in amused shock, while Scott's smirk only deepened. They shared a glance, one that Impulse recognized well enough by now to know that they were categorically not going to drop this any time soon. Not that he cared; he was happy to keep rambling about what an amazing performance the niche band had put on; Impulse could recognize good music when he heard it.

"I don't know, I think you might be a tad biased," the blizz said, the frosty sparkle in his eyes refusing to disappear given Impulse's enthusiasm.

Gem nodded. "Definitely. You just think he's hot, you want to find a quiet spot where you two can kiss and-"

"Gem!" Impulse interrupted, flush deepening at the implications. "I don't even know if he likes guys," he retorted, wilting a little at the thought. Not that it mattered; he didn't know the guy, it's not like he'd somehow end up in a situation where hooking up was even possible.

"I dunno..." Scott drawled, eyes shifting to glance over the demon's shoulder. He grinned again at Impulse's embarrassment. "I feel like he'd be open to that sort of thing."

"And how would you know?" he snapped back, suddenly very self-conscious, as though the two of them were in on a joke that he didn't get. They did love to tease him, and it wasn't often that Impulse got a crush—not that this was a crush!

Gem just snorted while Scott waved the phone. "Instagram," he answered shortly, still smirking.

"But you didn't even answer the question!" the warden accused, taking another drink.

"What question?"

"Would you kiss him if you could?"

"Gem-" he tried to argue, hiding his blush with a hand again.

"Just answer! You never tell us about your love life, it's only fair," she insisted, giving him an intense and expecting look, one that warned against any arguing.

"I don't know him," the demon sputtered. "I guess I would, but I'd want to get to know him first, maybe take him out to dinner..." he trailed off, eyebrows furrowed at the thought. It really wasn't all that unrealistic that Impulse could meet the angel, since Tango could introduce them. But the odds of the guy actually being interested in anything?

"I was going to offer to buy you a drink, but I think it might have to be the other way around," came a deep voice from behind him.

The demon nearly jumped out of his skin.

Right in front of him was the angel, in the flesh, very close up and personal and—fuck, he was even hotter in person, suit torn at the sleeves and unbuttoned at the top, showing off his arms and chest. He was leaning against the bar, a stereotypical smolder painting his features, blue eyes dark as they looked the demon up and down.

Impulse short circuited.

He was stammering something, but he wasn't sure what—a greeting? An apology? How much had the angel heard, did he think Impulse was weird, did he-

"I'm asking if I can buy you a drink," the angel clarified, smirk fading into a more serious expression as he repeated the offer.

"I, uh-" The demon's mouth went dry. "I can't, I have to drive later," he answered weakly, brain still not catching up to the fact that the guy was hitting on him.

"No, you don't," Gem denied cheerily, the smile in her voice clear even though Impulse's back was turned. "We'll get an uber. Go have fun, enjoy yourself~"

He looked back up at the angel, who was now giving him the sweetest, most encouraging smile, and swallowed thickly. He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I- I'd love a drink," he managed, still unbearably flustered, tail curling in on itself.

The man grinned, the wings on his head puffing up happily—that's adorable—as he offered an arm to the demon.

Impulse took it, letting the angel lead him away to order drinks.

"Just be back by hotel checkout at ten tomorrow!" Scott called after them.

---

So that's their first meeting! I also want to write Skizz's first impression of Impulse and his pov of this encounter at some point, and potentially even extend the scene a little further when we see him ;)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! And if there's any questions about anyone in this au, feel free to drop an ask <3

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

working late - spencer reid x gn!reader

spencer really doesn't want reader to work late tonight

continuation of 'that me espresso' thanks to @multipleheartbreakhotels!!!

genre: fluff wc: 523 warnings: clingy spencer?

Spence: When can I see you? I’m off tonight. No case.

He really did want to see you. He isn’t sure what it is about you or what you’ve done to him, but he knows he’ll never get enough.

You like him. A lot. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, sweet, he doesn’t talk to you the way other guys always do. You really do want to see him tonight. The only issue is that you have to work tonight.

You: sorry!!! i’m working late tonight

The response comes far quicker than you anticipate.

Spence: Could I visit?

Technically, yes. You aren’t super fond of the idea of him coming into your work but you do want to see him.

You: how about you pick me up after?

Spence: What time?

You smile to yourself and pick out your outfit in your head.

You: 9pm

Spence: See you then.

Work takes longer than usual and you think it’s his fault. While it’s never a thrill, you don’t regularly check the time as much as you have been today. Every customer interaction is bland, each worse than the last. Leave it to Spencer Reid to affect your productivity at work. You find yourself counting down the minutes until you get to see him.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was to be sent a picture of him. You’re certainly not upset about it. Okay, maybe the photo isn’t directly of him but you can see him in it. It’s of the counter in his bathroom. A few of your things sit on top of it. Some things you must’ve left from your night together. His silhouette is visible in the mirror, telling you that he’s wearing a pale blue shirt with a navy cardigan over it. He’s wearing a matching navy tie.

Spence: Want me to bring these?

You could use that stuff but you’d like more to have an excuse to go back over to his place.

You: no, i’ll grab them next time i’m over

Spencer was not expecting that. Of course, he wants you to come to his apartment again. He just wasn’t anticipating you wanting to.

Spence: On my way now.

For some reason, every red light felt like it took ten times longer than they generally do. He knew, statistically, at this time of night, that wasn’t true, but he couldn’t deny the feeling. When he got to your workplace, he couldn’t be happier. Especially now that you’re walking towards a park together, heads covered in snow. He looks over at you.

“What do you think about coffee? It’s late but we could have decaf or, if you’d rather, tea. We could also get something to eat if you’re hungry!” Spencer rambles, his mouth moving quicker than his brain at this point.

“Mmm, coffee,” you chime in joy.

He nods. His hair falls in front of his face as he watches his steps.The idea of coffee seemed simple enough until you actually sat together. His eyes lingered on every syllable your lips formed. It was even worse when you took a sip from the to-go cup. Clearly, he’s obsessed with you, blown-out pupils tracking every last movement made by your perfect anything.

[scoupsakakitty]

Betrayal Under The Stage Lights pt.2 | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

The room remained silent long after Y/N left. The weight of their words, their accusations, lingered in the air like an unshakable storm cloud. No one dared to speak, no one wanted to admit what they all began to realize their mistake.

Mingyu ran a frustrated hand through his hair, the guilt settling deep in his chest. “We messed up, didn’t we?”

Jihoon exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “No, we didn’t just mess up. We completely turned on her without thinking.”

Joshua sat down heavily on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands. “We should have listened. We should have trusted her.”

Seungcheol, usually so sure of his decisions, felt a rare sense of self-doubt gnawing at him. His mind replayed the scene over and over Y/N’s devastated expression, her voice laced with desperation as she defended herself. And they had ignored it.

“She must hate us now,” Seokmin mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan, for once, had no witty remark, no clever way to deflect the situation. Instead, he sighed deeply. “We need to fix this.”

Y/N sat alone in her room, the echoes of their accusations still fresh in her mind. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to make them feel even a fraction of what she had felt. But more than anything, she just felt… tired.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. At first, she ignored it, expecting them to give up. But the knocking persisted. With an annoyed sigh, she stood up and pulled the door open only to find all thirteen members standing outside, looking uncharacteristically sheepish.

Mingyu, standing in the front, suddenly dropped to his knees. “Y/N, I was an idiot. No—worse than an idiot. I don’t even have a word for how dumb I was. Please, please forgive me.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “You’re really kneeling?”

“Yes,” Mingyu said without hesitation. “I’ll stay here all night if I have to.”

Seungcheol cleared his throat, stepping forward. “We all made a huge mistake. We let frustration cloud our judgment, and we blamed you without any proof. That was wrong. You didn’t deserve that.”

“We should have believed in you,” Joshua added, his usual warmth returning to his voice. “You’re our family.”

One by one, they all spoke up, each admitting their faults, each apologizing sincerely. Even Jihoon, who rarely showed emotions so openly, muttered, “I was too quick to judge. I’m sorry.”

Y/N took her time, letting them squirm under her scrutiny. She could see the genuine regret on their faces, the desperation in their eyes. And a wicked idea formed in her mind.

She sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her hip. “I don’t know… maybe I should just leave the group.”

The reaction was immediate.

“What?!”

“No, no, no!”

“Y/N, please, don’t even joke about that!”

Seungkwan looked ready to burst into tears. “I swear, if this is because of us—”

“I’ll do anything!” Mingyu pleaded. “I’ll cook for you for a year! I’ll do your laundry! I’ll—”

Y/N burst into laughter, unable to hold back any longer. “Relax, I was just messing with you.”

The collective groan that followed was almost comical. Seungcheol placed a hand over his heart, exhaling in relief. “Don’t do that! I nearly had a heart attack.”

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “You’re evil.”

Y/N smirked. “That’s what you get for doubting me.”

Despite their moment of panic, the mood shifted almost instantly. Hoshi pulled Y/N into a bone-crushing hug, and soon, the others piled on, a mess of tangled limbs and relieved laughter.

“Still mad at us?” Vernon asked as they finally pulled away.

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “I should be. But I guess I’ll forgive you guys. Just this once.”

They all cheered, and for the first time that night, everything felt right again.

“Well… on one condition,” Y/N added, crossing her arms. “I want my favorite ice cream.”

Without hesitation, Dino shot up. “I got it! I’ll get it right now!” And before anyone could react, he was already sprinting out the door.

The others laughed, shaking their heads as they watched him go. Finally, things were back to normal.

[dyeher]

“She did what?!” Sakusa’s eyes widen minutely, his hands stilling their massaging of your calf. “I- and you- you just- you just let her?!” He sounds incredulous.

“What was I supposed to do Omi! Fight her in the fucking parking lot?” you frown, nudging his hand with your shin until he resumes his massage.

“What do you me- yes! Yes! Knock her ass out, baby, that’s what you should have done!”

You blink at him, astonished at how genuinely upset he seems. “I could’ve ended up in a cell Kiyoomi,” you point out, calmly.

“And I would have happily bailed you out,” he sounds exasperated and that makes his reaction even more concerning.

You’re not sure what to reply to something like that. Mostly because you’ve never seen Kiyoomi so…incensed. You lock eyes for a brief moment, as you carefully bring your spoon to your lips and suck the ice cream off.

Sakusa scowls at you. “This is why I always go shopping with you. Trouble only ever finds you when you’re alone.”

You frown. “That’s mean Omi.”

“It’s true,” he vetoes. “If I were around it would have never happened.”

“I think it was an accident,” you pout, determined to give the woman the benefit of the doubt.

Sakusa cocks his head at you. “You think this woman accidentally ran into your cart with her car after you beat her to getting the last tub of cookie dough ice cream?”

You open your mouth to respond but he beats you to it.

“Nevermind,” he sighs defeatedly. “It doesn’t matter it’s in the past.”

“Uhm- I- we- we’ll have to cover the damage to her car…” you trail off when Sakusa turns to you slowly, his eyebrows furrowed menacingly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean- she- the cart-“

“She ran into you! Fucking Christ,” Sakusa stands, throwing his hands into the air dramatically. “Let me guess, you apologized.”

You look away.

“Oh, come on!”

“I don’t like the way you’re acting right now,” you sniff, sullenly stuffing a spoon of ice cream into your mouth.

“Baby,” he takes a steadying breath. “Sweetheart, light of my fucking life,” he stresses, fists planted on his hips. “You have to see that this was not your fault!”

“But my cart—”

“Was the only thing protecting you from getting hit by a fucking car!”

You blanch, finally understanding why he’s so angry. “Oh.”

“Oh? Oh?”

Sakusa’s left eye twitches.

“I didn’t think of that.”

His eyes slip shut. “Of course not,” he chuckles dryly. “Of course you didn’t think about what would happen if that cart wasn’t there. Of course.”

“Omi—”

“You are never going shopping without me again.”

“Kiyoomi–”

“Don’t argue with me about this. You will not win.”

“But—”

“Never again.”