#and let me be clear: he needs to face consequences for his actions.

[grilledcheeseandgravityfalls]

yes, what noah schnapp is doing is fucked up, and yes, zionism is awful, but i think that perhaps sending a 19 year old death threats on twitter is not, in fact, a great way to convince him to change and grow as a person. additionally i think we should all remember that growing up as a jewish child in the hollywood zionist hell machine might, just possibly, have caused him to fall victim to pro-zionist propaganda, and screaming for his blood will not change this, nor will it actually help palestine. by all means, boycott stranger things 5, and demand accountability for noah’s actions, but also maybe call your reps and log off twitter for five minutes. fucking hell, yall

[feyhunter78]

When the Night Turns

Description: The night before your husband leaves for battle, he tells you of his aspirations for the throne. You in turn confess your fears.

“I spoke with Cole, told him it is time for someone better to sit on the Iron Throne, and that will be me. Obviously.” Aemond says, his head resting on your thigh, his silver hair splayed out against the light blue fabric of your nightshift.

You say nothing, only continue combing your fingers through his hair. To speak in agreement with him would be treason, to speak against him would be your undoing.

“That this is where my reign begins.” He continues, the one arm around your waist tightening as he looks up at you, expectant.

You know what he desires, but you cannot give it to him, not here where Aegon is still King, where you do not have a dragon or an army of your own to keep you safe from accusations of treachery. Not when it is so clear that Aemond had no qualms about directing his anger at those closest to him, you cannot count on him or his dragon.

So, you choose the safe route. “Here, My Prince? I am no strategist, but I cannot say I believe my chambers to be the most effective place for anyone to begin their reign.”

Aemond hums in response, his good eye closed, his sapphire one glinting in the low candlelight.

You bite the inside of your cheek, stomach churning as you digest Aemond’s words. Of course, you believe him better suited for the throne but…

“I can sense the wheels in your mind turning issa prumia, speak, let your king ease your mind.” His voice still has that low, smooth tone to it, a gentleness to his words that you remember from when he said his vows, in the Great Sept. He promised that you were his, and he was yours, that none shall tear you asunder.

You smooth your thumb across his forehead, admiring the shadows his eyelashes cast upon his cheeks. “I wish you would take more care with your words. Your brother is the rightful king; it is what this war is all about, and I do not wish to see another conflict spring up when all of your focus should be on defeating the false queen.”

“And her craven of a husband.” Aemond says, unable to let any mention of his uncle go unsaid.

You nod, though he cannot see, and caress the curve of his cheek, fear flicking in your chest. “Yes, and that butcher.”

You shiver at the memory of the screams, of the rage and grief that echoed through the Keep after Jaehaerys’ death.

Aemond’s grip tightens on you once more, there is no need to speak, the consequences of Blood and Cheese’s actions weigh heavily on him, and you. They had been tasked with killing Aemond, but could not find him, Daemon did not know you and Aemond kept separate chambers, did not know your husband spent half his nights in your bed the other half in his own.

If they had not come upon Helaena first, if they had gone a few rooms down and found your chambers it may have ended differently, Aemond would have been able to stop them…

“I will not mourn when the Stranger comes for Daemon Targaryen.” You cannot keep the venom from your voice, even as flames of fear begin to climb once more within you.

Your hand must have stilled because Aemond brings it to his lips, his gaze meeting yours.

His amethyst eye is alight, a smug smile on his lips. “I will defeat them, I will win this war, and the realm shall have a king worthy of the throne. Rhaenyra and Daemon’s heads shall adorn the gates, and I shall decorate the Great Hall with their dragons’ skulls.”

You pull your hand away, your throat tight as the smoke from the flames of fear in your chest rise up and choke you.

Aemond follows, sitting up and taking your face in his hands, his eye inspecting every inch, his expression changed, softer, more attentive. “I am sorry, I should not speak of such things to you, they are far too gruesome for your ears.”

“I am afraid, Aemond.” You whisper, your hands coming to grasp his wrists, clinging to him. You know Vhagar is strong, that Aemond is smart, but you cannot help but be afraid, afraid that his pride will be his undoing.

“Do not be. Have faith in me, in Vhagar, in Cole. We are blessed, guided by the Seven.” He says, his long, lithe fingers threading into your hair, massaging the nape of your neck.

“I do, but I do not fear for you at Rook’s Rest, I fear that you will—” You cut yourself off, you cannot tell him you fear his pride will drive him to act foolishly, you are not the Dowager Queen, you cannot speak your mind so freely. “You are right. I will have faith.”

Aemond’s grip on you tightens, his gaze hardening. “Speak, y/n.”

You cast your eyes downwards, your voice soft. “I fear that you will be blinded by your ambition, that your pride will doom you.”

Aemond releases you with a sigh, and slips from your bed, his back to you as he gathers his things. “I expected such words from my mother. Perhaps you have spent too much time with one another.”

You follow after him, the stone floor cold against your bare feet. “I do not wish to lose you.”

He turns on his heel, eye patch in hand. “So, you think to insult me? To all but imply you do not believe I will be able to accomplish our goals, to win this war, and rule the realm?”

You take his hands in yours and press them to your heart, hoping he can feel how fervently it beats, how it beats for him, as it has since the day you met. “You asked me to speak, My King, to let you ease my mind. I did as you asked because I could not bear it if I did not speak, and you were lost to me because of the very thing I wished to warn you of.”

Your use of My King has softened him, if only a little, and he inclines his head towards you. “You think me prideful, issa prumia?”

“I think you a great man, with the largest dragon in the realm, but you are also a man who comes from hurt, whose family has been hurt.” You say carefully, as you keep a tight grip on his hands. “Your pain is real, and deserves recompense, but not at the risk of your life.”

Aemond’s eye flickers to the burning hearth, and you know you have reached him.

“Promise me, swear to me that if Daemon comes, however foolish it may be, no matter that you think he will not, promise me that you will use the aid of others to defeat him. Let that butcher gloat and preen, let him act as if he is the conqueror reborn, for we know he is a fool. And fools always reveal their weaknesses in time.”

Aemond slips his hands from yours and there is an ache in your chest, but he soothes it quickly, when he presses his lips to yours softly, his hand coming to cradle your cheek, the other settling on your waist. “My little wife, how clever you are.”

You lean into his touch, your own hands anchoring themselves in his tunic. “I must be, for how can I be the wife of King Aemond the first, if I am not?”

He smiles at your words, and pulls you flush against him. “I will have the servants move your things to my chambers, I want to return from battle to find my wife safe in my bed.”

Your heart leaps, when you first married you had hoped that you and Aemond would share chambers as your mother and father did, but he had shown little interest in the idea. In truth, it had served you and him well on that bloody night, but those routes in had been sealed, and his chambers were checked for other secret doors. It had been declared safe and for more than one reason now you could not be happier.

“You will find no argument from me, though I will need prior notice if you wish me to wear anything particular for your return.” Your voice takes on a jesting tone, though your words are true, and the way Aemond’s lips drift downwards, ghosting over the skin of your neck, tells you he hears them well.

“I have no preference, provided it is easily replaced.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering closed as Aemond’s lips find your pulse point. “Easily replaced?”

“How fond are you of this nightshift?” He asks in lieu of answering your question.

“I think it is pretty, but it is not my best one, I did not know you would be visiting me, so I did not have time to prepa—” The sound of fabric ripping accompanied by the clatter of a dagger against the stone floor and the cool air on your skin silences you.

Aemond hums appreciatively, his eye drinking in your form as he walks you backwards towards your bed. “This is why it must be easily replaceable; I cannot attest to the patience I will have when I return.”

HOTD Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305, @solkara, @simpinonyouz, @lorarri

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ synopsis. reminiscing about the start of your relationship // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡ cw. mentions of guns, tw guns, fluff & established relationship, a/n. this is just a random idea that came to me, not proofread, gn! reader ♡

the unfolding of a relationship can truly be something magical.

with a warm contentment, you settle yourself against boothill's chest as you indulge the drifting thoughts in your mind, humming lightly into your chest as you felt a large palm cradle your hip.

you cannot lie to yourself, can you? but you're rather nostalgic about the early stages of your relationship with your boyfriend and how the two of you got to know each other.

at that, you realise it's a fun story, a great one even.

to boothill, you were the first person he's had a genuine interest in having a relationship with, and remembering how he thought he should tackle it— well, it was almost tragic, in a humorous way.

people who saw him as a dangerous individual weren't necessarily new to him. he'd be naive believing that he wouldn't be scary to look at.

the man understood that his risky occupation, aside from his outside demeanor could come across as unsafe and frightening to the outside spectator.

what boothill didn't realise, however, was that no matter how hard you try, you cannot hide yourself.

you see, boothill doesn't lie— although frankly, he did try to make himself seem a little less intense to you. especially on your first dates.

it all began with his job and how it doesn't fit with your usual cookie cutter profession. in order to appear a lot softer and less frightening to you, he wasn't the most honest about what he's been doing for a living, nor did he actually plan to reveal it to you right away.

reflecting back on it, his cheeks instantly burn of embarrassment— the sheer confidence he must've experienced when he believed, for a single second, that he could be able to claim and sell the lie of him having a bakery would actually fool you in the slightest bit.

quoting his exact type of wording; a renowned bakery owner with a strong liking towards lemon cake.

well, perhaps you bringing it up from time to time and teasing him with it was a consequence of his own actions now. yet, his sweet sense of humor made you fall in love with him the most.

it's adorable, he is, yet it ended up being slightly dangerous— with such words shrouded in your mind, you're thinking back at one specific moment where you accidentally found one of hid guns.

naturally, he's tried to downplay it immediately, hands turning sweaty as he couldn't keep eye contact with you while working himself through a story of claiming that, well, it's not a real one silly, see? but a fake one, okay? that he's been using for an upcoming, top secret, performance he's been planning for a while now.

for his bakery. you know.

little did he realize you accidentally pulled the trigger right when you were about to hand over the weapon and shot a bullet through the wall, right into the living room— you were fortunate enough that the knock back didn't hurt your shoulder too much, it stung a little, yes, but you were able to recover from the shock quickly.

yeah, it's safe to assume that this was a clear awakening to boothill, that he most likely needs to let you in on a couple of silly, little details about his life.

well now at least, after being in a loving relationship for a good couple of years already, you tilt your face and prop yourself up by your chin as your boyfriend shakes his head the moment you mention it to him again, "don't remind me of that," he begins to panic, a big and embarrassing smile plastering across his mouth as his heart drops to the pit of his stomach, "hey! we promised not to talk about this again,"

he's shrouded with a sudden feeling of helplessness, scratching the back of his neck before you slant yourself closer with an airy laugh brushing against his lips, "but it's our origin story," you smile and hoist your body up so you could be on his eye level.

you continue to affirm, knowing it makes your boyfriend weak in the knees, "and you're so sweet when you're embarrassed," before applying a sultry kiss on his cheek, breath holding, mind numbing, as boothill quirks up the sides of his mouth softly at your plush lips touching him.

truly, how beautiful it was that no matter what, he knows that you are one and if anything, a story such as yours only brought one closer.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[03jyh23]

🌷⌇facing the truth finding our way back part 8; a choi jongho mini-series

ex-boyfriend! idol! jongho x ex-girlfriend! single-mom! reader

│ series masterlist│ next │

│synopsis: five years have passed since jongho last saw you. your lives have taken drastically different paths, with jongho achieving fame and you focusing on raising your daughter, nari, in quiet anonymity. when jongho discovers he has a daughter, he's determined to be a part of her life.

│genre: a slice of life, romance, fluff, some angst

│trigger warnings: emotional distress, mature language, confrontations, anxiety and mental turmoil⁠⁠​

│words: 8.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! it's been three months since my last update, I finally managed to have some time for writing during my Christmas/New Year break! honestly, i'm as nervous as the first time i ever posted on here but there's also a huge excitement. i missed you guys and this story so much! can't wait to hear all of your opinions!

as always

love, mon ♡

│taglist: │ @seventeenthingsblr │@DALSUWAHA │

│ @ateez-atiny380 │ @yoonshiiu │ @sndeoki │ @bomi-ja │

│ @vixensss │ @all-fandoms-rise │ @finnydraws │

│ @jonghosbrainrot │ @ateezswonderland │ @stayatinykatsy

│@chickenscoups │ @ana-stasssiaaa │ @starryunho │

│ @originalcupcakenacho │ @ultrapinkvoidbouquet │

│ @sweetinsaniiity│ @jennifermakmur│ @mitchii │

│ @hannah-97 │ @hyuckiesgf │ @treehouse-mouse │

│ @eternoange1│ @ultrapinkvoidbouquet │ @jycas │

│ @velvetskize │ @dumplingsyum │

│ @daisiesandtea123 │ @taegi1016│ @misshella│

│ @e3ellie │ @staytiny94 │

│@thedistractedwriter  │ @satans-arse-crack │ @soreberry │

│ if you wish to be tagged let me know here! ♡

Jongho stormed into his car, his body trembling with a mixture of rage and frustration. He slammed the door shut behind him, the sound echoing. For a moment, he sat there, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control of his emotions. Slowly, he unclenched his tightly gripped fists, wincing slightly as he felt the sting of his nails digging into his palms. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward, gently resting his forehead against the cool surface of the steering wheel. The tension in his muscles began to ebb away, replaced by a profound sense of exhaustion and regret. As the adrenaline faded, the weight of the confrontation settled over him heavy. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The image of you standing between him and Hyunwoo, your eyes pleading for peace, flashed in his mind. Guilt washed over him as he realized how close he had come to losing control.

"Fuck..." he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The weight of the situation crashed down on him, and he felt a mix of anger and disappointment in himself. He had promised you he would handle things differently, be better, but he had nearly lost it back there. The thought of disappointing you, made his stomach churn. Jongho ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. He knew he needed to calm down, to think clearly about what to do next. But the image of Hyunwoo's smug face kept flashing in his mind, reigniting his anger. He took another deep breath, trying to focus on what really mattered -you and Nari. "I need to fix this," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper in the quiet car. He knew he had to make things right, but he also knew he needed time to cool off first. With a heavy sigh, he started the car, deciding to take a drive to clear his head before facing the consequences of his actions.

As Jongho drove aimlessly through the streets, his phone suddenly lit up with an incoming call.

The caller ID displayed his manager's name, and Jongho's stomach dropped. With a heavy sigh, he answered the call, already anticipating bad news.

"What is it?" Jongho asked, his voice still carrying the rough edge of lingering anger, a testament to the confrontation that had just transpired in the hallway.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" his manager's voice thundered through the speaker with such force that Jongho had to pull the phone away from his ear, wincing at the volume. "I just got a call from Minho at KpopDaily. You know what he asked me? He asked me to confirm if Choi Jongho from ATEEZ has a three-year-old daughter! Do you have any idea how blindsided I was by this?"

Jongho's blood ran cold, a chill spreading through his entire body as the implications of those words sank in. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white, the leather creaking under the pressure. "What?" The single word came out as barely more than a whisper.

"They have photos, Jongho. Multiple photos. Clear shots of you with Nari, you putting her in the car, and even you talking to San and Wooyoung while she's with you. They're planning to run the story tomorrow morning." His manager's voice dropped dangerously low, each word dripping with barely contained fury. "Do you have any idea what kind of shitstorm this could create? The company executives are going to crucify me for this! Years of careful image management, gone in an instant!"

"Did... did they publish anything yet?" Jongho managed to ask, his throat constricting as waves of panic began to wash over him. His mind immediately raced to you and Nari - imagining the chaos that would descend upon your lives, the reporters that would hound your every step, the peaceful existence you'd carefully constructed crumbling under the weight of public scrutiny.

"No, thank god. I managed to convince Minho to hold off by promising him an exclusive interview instead. But listen to me carefully - this isn't going to stay buried for long. You need to get your ass to the company building right now. We need to handle this before it explodes in our faces and becomes completely unmanageable. The other members must be briefed too - this isn't just about you anymore. This affects all of ATEEZ, everything we've built together."

"I had a meeting with the CEO and PR team. They were so supportive before—everything was under control," Jongho said, his words barely above a whisper, more to himself than his manager. The manager let out a heavy sigh before answering.

"The company representatives only supported you because you agreed to follow their plan. Now everything's hanging by a thread. Don't you understand, Jongho? This has spiraled out of control. They didn't want to force your hand before, but that's about to change. I'm calling the CEO right now."

"Do you have to call them right now?" Jongho pleaded, his voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and fear. His fingers tightened around the phone as he tried one last time to delay the inevitable conversation that would change everything. "Maybe we could discuss this first, find another solution—" His desperate attempt to stop his manager was abruptly cut short.

"Yes I have to," the manager said firmly, his tone brooking no argument, each word carrying the weight of years of experience in the industry. "We can't keep this from them, Jongho. This isn't something we can handle on our own anymore, and every minute we delay could make things worse."

Jongho pulled over to the side of the road with trembling hands, his mind spinning like a tornado of worst-case scenarios. Everything he'd been desperately trying to protect - his precious relationship with you, Nari's innocent childhood, the delicate balance he'd been struggling to maintain between his two worlds - it was all threatening to come crashing down around him. The thought of his daughter being thrust into the harsh spotlight, of becoming fodder for entertainment news and social media speculation, made his stomach churn violently. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said quietly, his voice hollow as he ended the call. He sat in the suffocating silence of his car, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he tried to process the magnitude of what was happening. The weight of impending disaster pressed heavily on his chest. He needed to tell you, but the very thought made him feel sick with dread. How could he possibly find the words to say to you that your worst fears were about to become reality? That the peaceful life you'd built for Nari, the normal childhood you'd fought so hard to give her, was about to be turned upside down because he couldn't stay away because he'd been selfish enough to want to be part of your lives without considering the consequences?

Jongho pulled into the company parking lot with a heavy heart and trembling hands. The walk to the building entrance felt like the longest journey of his life, his footsteps seemed to match the thundering of his heartbeat as he approached the glass doors, his reflection distorted in their surface.

His manager was already waiting in the lobby, pacing back and forth with nervous energy that seemed to electrify the air around him. The moment he caught sight of Jongho, his hurried steps faltered, and his eyes widened in shock, immediately focusing on Jongho's swollen lip. The manager's expression shifted from surprise to barely contained frustration as he took in Jongho's disheveled appearance.

"What happened to your face?" the manager hissed through clenched teeth, stepping closer to examine the injury with a mixture of concern and exasperation evident in his features. His voice dropped to a whisper, tight with tension, "Please tell me you weren't in a fight. That's absolutely the last thing we need right now, of all possible moments."

Before Jongho could formulate a response or attempt to explain himself, a company representative approached them with quick, purposeful steps. Her usually perfectly composed expression wavered slightly as she noticed his injury, a crack in her professional facade that spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation. "The others are waiting in the main conference room," she said, her tone maintaining its professional edge but carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of tension. "We need to address this situation immediately - there's no time to waste."

The walk to the conference room felt surreal, like moving through a thick fog in a dream - or rather, a nightmare that was becoming increasingly vivid with each passing moment. The familiar corridors seemed longer and more imposing than ever before, the walls closing in with each step. When they finally entered the room, Jongho found all seven of his members already seated around the large table, their presence both comforting and intimidating. Their expressions ranged from deep concern to visible confusion, and the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence as they collectively took in his disheveled appearance.

Seonghwa was the first to break through the thick tension that had settled over the room. His voice, gentle but laden with worry, cut through the silence like a warm knife. "Jongho, what's going on?" The genuine concern in his tone made Jongho's heart clench with guilt and apprehension.

Before Jongho could respond, the door swung open and the CEO strode in, followed by several members of the PR team. The atmosphere in the room immediately shifted, becoming even more tense as everyone straightened in their seats. Jongho's throat went dry as he realized this was the moment everything would change.

The CEO settled into his chair at the head of the table, his expression grave as he surveyed the room. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, pressing down on Jongho's shoulders like a physical burden.

"I'm sure we all know why we're here," the CEO sighed, massaging his forehead. The lines of exhaustion and concern were deeply etched on his face as he looked around the room, his gaze finally settling on Jongho. "The situation has escalated beyond our control, and we need to make some immediate decisions about how to proceed."

The tension in the room thickened, and Jongho could feel the questioning stares of his members burning into him.

"What exactly is going on?" Hongjoong's leader instincts kicked in, his voice steady but concerned as he looked between the CEO and Jongho, trying to piece together the situation.

"At KQ Entertainment, we pride ourselves on trust and friendship," one of the PR heads began, her voice laden with authority that filled the room. "But we can't ignore this situation any longer, Jongho." She paused, her steely gaze fixed on him. "From now on, we'll be making the decisions for you. You no longer have a choice in this matter," she declared with a finality that sent a chill down Jongho's spine.

"Can somebody enlighten us?" Hongjoong's voice cut through the tension, his tone firm yet controlled. "I'm the leader of the group. I should be the one representing our approach to whatever this situation is."

"There was... a media leak," the CEO spoke carefully, his words heavy with implications. He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing to explain the situation. "The media has obtained photographs of Jongho with his daughter," the CEO stated bluntly, causing several gasps around the table. "They're planning to run a story tomorrow morning about his secret child. We've been managing this situation privately until now, but circumstances have forced our hand."

"Our PR team has already drafted a statement," he continued, sliding folders across the table. "We'll announce that Jongho has a daughter, frame it as a personal choice to maintain privacy and request understanding from fans. The statement will be released before the media breaks the story."

Hongjoong's chair scraped against the floor as he stood abruptly. "With all due respect, sir, this isn't just about PR. We're talking about a child's life here. Jongho's family. We can't just—"

"This isn't up for discussion," the PR head interrupted sharply. "The statement goes out in four hours. We need to control the narrative before it controls us."

Jongho sat there, shoulders slumped, feeling the weight of defeat crushing him. Everything he had feared was unfolding before his eyes, and he felt powerless to stop it. The heated exchange between Hongjoong and the executives continued around him, but their voices seemed distant, muffled by the roaring in his ears.

"You can't make unilateral decisions about our member's personal life!" Hongjoong's voice cut through Jongho's daze, sharp with anger. "We should at least discuss alternative approaches—"

"The time for discussion is over," the CEO's voice thundered through the room. "This is no longer just about Jongho or his family. This affects ATEEZ as a whole, our company's reputation, and the careers of everyone in this room."

"Jongho," the CEO's tone shifted, becoming deceptively calm, his fingers interlacing on the polished conference table as he leaned forward with an air of calculated authority. "We need you to contact Y/N immediately. As Nari's legal guardian, there are several time-sensitive documents that require her immediate attention and signature."

"Documents?" Jongho's voice emerged as barely more than a trembling whisper, his hands clenched tightly beneath the table as dread pooled in his stomach.

The PR head cleared her throat, adjusting her wire-rimmed glasses with practiced precision, her expression a masterclass in corporate calculation. "Yes. After careful consideration of all available options and extensive market research, we've determined that the most strategic course of action is to announce your engagement. A formal marriage ceremony, properly timed and publicized, will help significantly soften the blow to your public image and create a narrative that our PR team can effectively manage—"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Hongjoong exploded, his chair screeching against the floor as he slammed both palms onto the table with enough force to make the water glasses rattle. His face was flushed with unbridled fury as he stood, shoulders tensed like a coiled spring. "You can't possibly think you have the right to force them into marriage! This goes beyond crossing a line—this is a complete violation of their basic human rights—"

"Watch your language and compose yourself immediately," the CEO snapped, his face flooding with color as he straightened in his chair. "This isn't some playground where you can throw tantrums, Hongjoong. This is a serious business matter that requires professional conduct."

"Business?" Hongjoong spat the word out like it was poison burning his tongue, his eyes blazing with righteous indignation. "We're talking about real people's lives here—actual human beings with feelings and rights—not some goddamn spreadsheet you can manipulate for profit!"

The room descended into absolute chaos, with voices rising and crashing against each other like waves in a storm. Heated protests collided with corporate justifications, profanities mingled with policy citations, and emotional pleas clashed with cold business logic. Through the deafening cacophony of the escalating argument, Jongho remained completely motionless in his chair, a statue of despair. His mind raced frantically to thoughts of you, his heart constricting painfully as he grappled with the impossible task of finding words to explain this new nightmare that was unfolding—how could he possibly tell you that their solution to protecting your privacy was to thrust you even further into the spotlight?

"Hyung, it's alright," Jongho said softly amongst the chaos. His quiet voice somehow managed to cut through the heated arguments surrounding him.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him, the sudden quiet almost deafening after the previous uproar. His shoulders were slumped in resignation, but there was a quiet determination in his eyes as he lifted his gaze to meet Hongjoong's concerned stare. "I'll talk to Y/N myself - she deserves to hear this from me, not through some corporate statement."

"No," the PR head's voice sliced through his plea, her tone leaving no room for argument or emotion. "This isn't a request, Jongho. This is a direct order from the company. Put her on speaker now. We've already dispatched a car with security personnel to collect both Y/N and Nari. They need to be present in this room immediately to handle this situation according to company protocol."

Jongho's face drained of all color as waves of panic clawed mercilessly at his chest, his breathing becoming shallow and rapid. "Please," he begged, his voice cracking with raw desperation that filled the room, his hands trembling visibly as he leaned forward in his chair. "I'm begging you to at least let me handle this part myself. They deserve that much consideration - let me explain everything to them in person, face to face—"

"That's not an option," she interrupted with glacial finality, her expression hardening into an impenetrable mask of corporate authority as she extended her hand across the table, fingers splayed expectantly. "Your phone. Hand it over. Now."

The silence that followed was electric, charged with a tension that could almost be physically felt. Yeosang's voice, usually soft and measured, cut through the stillness with unexpected force.

"We will all terminate our contracts immediately if you don't allow Jongho to handle this situation with the respect and dignity it deserves," Yeosang declared firmly, his usually gentle voice carrying an unmistakable edge of steel. The quiet member's unexpected declaration sent shockwaves through the room, causing everyone present to turn toward him in stunned silence. His words hung heavy in the air, transforming the already tense atmosphere into something electric with possibility.

As if choreographed, all seven members rose from their chairs in perfect synchronization, the sharp scraping of chair legs against the floor creating a symphony of defiance. Their unified movement, performed without hesitation or discussion, conveyed a message more powerful than any words could express. The solidarity emanating from their stance transformed the corporate meeting room into a battlefield where the lines had been clearly drawn.

Yunho's voice cut through the tension, steady and unwavering, his usual playfulness replaced by iron determination. "You'll have my formal resignation letter on your desk first thing tomorrow morning," he declared, each word carefully measured and delivered with devastating precision. His typically bright and cheerful features had hardened into an expression of unmovable resolve, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity that none in the room had witnessed before.

San's quiet but firm voice joined the chorus of solidarity. "My contract will be on that desk too," he stated, his usually bright eyes now dark with determination. The atmosphere in the room shifted as the executives exchanged nervous glances, clearly unprepared for this united front from all eight members.

"All of you calm down right now and sit down!" the CEO demanded, his voice thundering through the room as he slammed his fist on the table. His face had turned a dangerous shade of red, veins visibly pulsing at his temples. "Jongho, go and talk to that girl. The car's probably already waiting for them."

The other members remained standing, their expressions unwavering despite the CEO's outburst.

Jongho stood up slowly, his movements heavy with the weight of what was to come. His members' protective stance gave him strength, but the dread in his heart was overwhelming. With trembling fingers, he pulled out his phone, staring at your contact information on the screen.

"Give me fifteen minutes," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just fifteen minutes to explain everything to her before she comes here."

The PR head opened her mouth to object, but Hongjoong cut her off with a sharp glare. "Fifteen minutes," he stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "That's the absolute minimum of human decency we can offer in this situation."

The tension in the room was suffocating as Jongho stepped out into the hallway, his footsteps echoing against the walls. Finding a quiet corner, he pressed your number with shaking hands, his heart thundering in his chest as he waited for you to answer.

The call connected after three rings. Your voice, warm yet worried, came through the speaker, filled with a mixture of relief and concern. "Jongho? Oh my god, are you alright? I've been worried sick about you. I'm so glad you finally called. I've been beside myself with worry ever since everything happened. I'm so, so sorry about all of this—Hyunwoo has never, ever acted like this before... I still can't believe it happened. Your lip—how bad is it? Have you been able to put any ointment on it? Does it hurt much?"

Jongho's throat constricted painfully, making even the simplest words feel impossible to voice. A heavy weight settled in his chest as the reality of what he needed to tell you pressed down on him. How could he possibly find the right words to explain that your carefully constructed world was about to come crashing down around you? That the delicate balance you'd both worked so hard to maintain for all these years was about to splinter into countless irreparable pieces?

"I'm... I'm fine," he finally managed to say, his voice emerging as little more than a strained whisper. Each syllable sent a sharp twinge of pain through his split lip, "Hyunwoo was... upset. I understand why he reacted that way. Finding out about everything like that, the way he did..." He trailed off, his words fading into silence as the crushing weight of what he needed to tell you threatened to overwhelm him completely.

"The ointment... no, I haven't had the opportunity to take care of it yet," he continued, struggling to maintain some semblance of composure even as his voice threatened to break with each word. The genuine concern and warmth in your voice only served to make his next necessary words feel even more impossible to speak.

"Please come home to us, Jongho," you said softly, your voice carrying all the tenderness and care that he'd grown to love so deeply. "I have plenty of ointment here, and we can sit down properly and talk through everything that happened—"

"Y/N, I need you to listen to me very carefully," Jongho cut you off, his voice strained with an emotion so intense it seemed to physically pain him to speak.

"There's a company car on its way to pick you and Nari up right now," he continued each word feeling like glass in his throat. "The situation... it's escalated beyond our control. I tried—" His voice cracked, heavy with the weight of his powerlessness. "I tried so hard to protect you both, but they're demanding you come to the company immediately." Jongho's voice trembled, thick with emotion. "The company... they've made some decisions about how to handle our situation. I fought against it, we all did, but—" He drew in a shaky breath. "There are documents they need you to sign. Important ones. Time-sensitive ones."

"Jongho, you're scaring me," your voice wavered. "What kind of documents? What's happening?"

"I can't... I can't explain everything over the phone. But you need to know that things are about to change drastically. The company has a plan, and they're not giving us much choice in the matter."

"I'm not bringing Nari," you said firmly, "If things are this serious if you sound this frightened, there's no way I'm exposing my daughter to whatever's happening at the company right now."

"They specifically requested both of you," Jongho's voice cracked. "As Nari's legal guardian, they say your presence is mandatory for these documents—"

"Legal guardian?" Your voice rose with mounting panic. "Jongho, what does Nari have to do with any of this? What kind of documents could possibly require her involvement?"

"Please," he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. "Trust me when I say I never wanted any of this. The car will be there soon. I'll be waiting for you both when you arrive. I promise I'll explain everything face to face."

"If what happened this morning meant anything to you," Jongho continued, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper, heavy with emotion, "if that kiss meant what I think it did... please, Y/N. I know it sounds crazy, I know you're worried about Nari, but if I still mean something to you—anything at all—get into that car and come to me. Your answer, you being here... it means everything right now."

The moment you ended the call, your hands were trembling so violently you nearly lost your grip on your phone, the device slipping precariously between your trembling fingers. Something in Jongho's voice - that raw edge of desperation and fear, that unmistakable tremor of barely contained emotion - sent waves of ice cascading through your veins, leaving you feeling cold and unsteady. You took several deep breaths, your fingers gripping the kitchen counter's edge so tightly that your knuckles turned white, trying desperately to ground yourself.

"Nari!" you called out, summoning every ounce of strength to keep your voice light and casual, fighting against the growing storm of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm you completely. "Sweetheart, we're going to visit Uncle Jongho and the others, you can pack your backpack!"

The excited squeal that echoed from her room brought a bittersweet smile to your face, your heart clenching painfully at her innocent joy. You could hear her little feet pattering energetically across the floor, the familiar sound of drawers being yanked open with unbridled enthusiasm filling the apartment.

"Can I bring my Woo?" she called back, her voice filled with childlike excitement as she referred to the treasured stuffed rabbit. "And the drawing I made for Uncle Wooyoung? The one with all the hearts and stars?"

"Yes, baby. Bring whatever you'd like," you responded, your feet already carrying you toward her room to help. You found her in the middle of organized chaos, toys flying through the air as she enthusiastically tossed them into her favorite pink backpack, her face glowing with pure, unrestrained excitement.

As you methodically helped her fold clothes properly and pack the essential items, your mind raced uncontrollably with possibilities, each scenario your imagination conjured more concerning than the last. Legal documents involving Nari? The mere thought sent your stomach into painful knots, acid rising in your throat as you contemplated the implications.

"Mommy, are you okay?" Nari's small, worried voice pulled you abruptly from your spiraling thoughts. You realized with a start that you'd been holding the same dress in your hands for several minutes, staring unseeing at its familiar pattern.

"Of course, sweetie," you forced what you hoped was a convincing smile, reaching out to gently tuck a wayward strand of her soft hair behind her ear, your touch lingering for just a moment longer than usual. "Just thinking about how happy Uncle Jongho and Uncle Wooyoung will be to see you."

With movements that felt both hurried and somehow underwater-slow, you quickly zipped up Nari's backpack, grabbed your own bag, and took her small, warm hand firmly in yours, drawing comfort from her innocent touch.

"Remember what we always say about being brave?" you asked her softly as you carefully locked the front door, your keys jingling quietly in the hallway.

"That being brave doesn't mean not being scared," she recited proudly, swinging your joined hands back and forth with carefree abandon. "It means doing what's right even when you are scared!"

You blinked rapidly to hold back the hot tears that threatened to spill over, squeezing her tiny hand gently as you approached the sleek black company car that seemed to loom ominously in the afternoon light. The driver stepped out, bowing politely as he opened the door for you both.

Throughout the seemingly endless drive, Nari chatted animatedly about seeing her beloved uncles, her voice rising and falling with excitement. Her innocent enthusiasm and pure joy stood in stark contrast to the growing knot of dread that had taken up permanent residence in your stomach, becoming heavier and more suffocating with each meter the car drew closer to the company building.

As you stepped out of the car, the late afternoon sun caught the gleaming glass facade of the building, its reflective surface seeming to mock the turmoil churning inside you. Nari bounced excitedly beside you, her small hand warm and trusting in yours, completely oblivious to the weight of the moment. The security guard's usually friendly smile was replaced with a carefully neutral expression as he wordlessly directed you toward the executive floor.

In the elevator, Nari hummed softly to herself, clutching her backpack. You found yourself studying her reflection in the polished elevator doors - her innocent excitement, the way she swayed slightly to her own tune, the pure trust in her eyes when she looked up at you. Your throat tightened painfully.

"Look, Mommy!" she exclaimed as the doors opened, pointing eagerly down the hallway. "I think I can hear Uncle San's laugh!"

But you knew better. The muffled voices coming from behind the closed conference room door held none of the warmth and joy that typically characterized the members' presence. Instead, there was an edge of tension, sharp and dangerous, that made your steps falter slightly as you approached.

Just before you could reach for the door handle, it swung open from the inside. Jongho stood there, his usually bright eyes shadowed with an emotion you couldn't quite read. The split in his lip was an angry red, a stark reminder of this morning's chaos. Behind him, you could see the other members standing in a protective semicircle, their faces unusually serious. The sight of suited executives seated at the far end of the conference table made your heart skip several beats.

"Uncle Jongho!" Nari squealed with delight, launching herself into his arms. Despite the gravity of the situation, Jongho's face softened as he caught her, pulling her into a tight embrace. For a brief moment, his eyes closed as he held her close, as if drawing strength from her innocent affection. But the tender moment was interrupted by a gentle but firm hand on your shoulder. Turning, you found yourself face to face with one of the company's senior managers, her expression professionally neutral but her eyes cold.

"Miss Y/N," she said smoothly, "if you'll follow me, we have some matters to discuss in private first. Nari can stay here with the members while we talk."

"I'll follow you once I make sure my daughter is properly settled," you said with an icy edge to your voice, turning deliberately towards the conference room. Your eyes moved methodically across the members' faces, searching each expression for any hint of reassurance or warning, desperately trying to read between the lines of their carefully composed expressions.

"Nari, my precious princess!" Wooyoung's excited voice cut through the suffocating tension like a warm ray of sunshine. Without hesitation, Nari's small hand slipped from yours as she bounded across the room, her little feet carrying her straight into his welcoming arms. Despite the crushing weight of anxiety pressing down on your chest, you couldn't suppress the small, genuine smile that tugged at your lips watching their interaction. The pure, uncomplicated joy on your daughter's face provided a momentary respite from the mounting tension.

"Hello, I'm Y/N," you said with as much composure as you could muster, and the members each bowed respectfully in response, their movements carrying a gravity that seemed to acknowledge the weight of the situation.

Wooyoung's eyes brightened with recognition, a flash of warmth breaking through the otherwise tense atmosphere. "We already met at that fan meeting, haven't we?" You nodded, feeling a small measure of relief wash over you at the sight of his familiar, friendly face amidst this increasingly unsettling situation.

"If I could ask you to watch over Nari..." you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to maintain your composure. But there was no need to complete the request. The members all responded with immediate and enthusiastic agreement, their genuine affection for your daughter evident in their eager nods and warm smiles. The sincerity in their responses provided a small measure of comfort, even as uncertainty about what lay ahead continued to gnaw at your insides.

With one final glance at Nari, now happily settled in Wooyoung's lap and showing him her treasured drawings, you turned to follow the manager. Your steps felt leaden, each one carrying you further from your daughter and closer to whatever life-altering documents awaited your signature. Jongho's worried gaze followed you down the hallway, his presence both a comfort and a source of mounting anxiety as you approached the adjacent meeting room.

The executive boardroom felt oppressively small as you and Jongho took your seats across from the CEO's imposing desk. The leather of your chair creaked softly as you shifted, hyperaware of how Jongho deliberately angled his body away from yours, his gaze fixed firmly on the polished wood surface before him. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

The CEO cleared his throat, shuffling some papers on his desk with practiced precision. "Miss Y/N, we appreciate you coming in on such short notice. We have a rather delicate situation that requires immediate attention."

"With all due respect," you interrupted, your voice tight with barely contained anger, "I'd appreciate if we could skip the corporate pleasantries and get straight to why my daughter and I were summoned here like this."

The CEO's expression hardened perceptibly, his features settling into a mask of stern professionalism. "Very well. The photographs that emerged this morning showing Jongho with your daughter have created what we consider to be an extremely delicate and complicated situation. Our public relations team has been working diligently around the clock to minimize the spread of these images across social media platforms, but I'm afraid the damage to our carefully maintained public image is already quite substantial."

"What photographs are you referring to?" you interjected sharply, your heart suddenly thundering against your ribcage with such force you could feel each beat in your throat. "I need to know exactly what was captured in these images. When were they taken? Where?" Your eyes darted frantically between the CEO and Jongho, desperately searching their expressions for any hint of reassurance as waves of panic began to crash over you, threatening to pull you under. "I have every right to know precisely what kind of 'damage' we're discussing here."

The CEO's jaw clenched visibly as he reached for a sleek tablet on his desk, his movements deliberate and controlled. With a swift motion, he slid the device across the polished surface toward you. The screen displayed several crystal-clear, high-resolution photographs that had obviously been taken by a professional photographer. They captured moments between Jongho and Nari outside the KQ building just yesterday - tender scenes of him holding her small hand in his as they walked together, their body language speaking volumes about their close relationship.

"These images were captured yesterday evening," the CEO explained, his clipped tone barely masking his displeasure with the situation.

Your hands shook uncontrollably as you swiped through the collection of photographs, each new image feeling like another heavy blow to your carefully constructed world. The quality was undeniable - every detail crystal clear. Your throat constricted painfully as you raised your eyes to meet the CEO's stern gaze, dreading whatever would come next.

"After extensive consultation, our public relations team has developed what we believe to be the most effective damage control strategy," the CEO continued, his voice taking on an almost mechanical quality in its professional detachment. "We propose orchestrating a controlled media reveal - an exclusive interview where Jongho can properly introduce Nari to the public. We'll carefully craft the narrative to emphasize his role as a father figure in her life. Our market research indicates that the public tends to respond very favorably to these kinds of heartwarming human interest stories."

"I absolutely refuse to even consider that proposal," you interrupted, your voice trembling with a combination of barely contained rage and protective instinct. "My daughter is not some convenient plot point in your corporate damage control narrative. She is a child - an innocent child who has every right to privacy and protection from this kind of exploitation."

The CEO's expression remained carefully neutral, though a muscle twitched in his jaw. "There are additional considerations we need to address. Given the sensitive nature of these circumstances, our board believes the most prudent course of action would be to accelerate the implementation of certain pre-existing contingency plans - specifically, the wedding arrangements-"

The word 'wedding' struck you with the force of a physical assault, causing your vision to swim and blur around the edges as your mind struggled to process this devastating new development.

"Wedding?" The word escaped your lips as little more than a breathless whisper, your wide eyes snapping to Jongho's face, but he steadfastly avoided your gaze, his shoulders tense. "Are you telling me you agreed to this? All of this? Without even discussing it with me?"

The crushing silence that followed your questions seemed to stretch for an eternity. Unable to contain your turbulent emotions any longer, you abruptly pushed back from the table, your chair scraping harshly against the floor. "How could you do this to us?" The words emerged as a broken whisper, heavy with betrayal. "How could you be so reckless with our daughter's safety?"

Jongho finally lifted his gaze to meet yours, his eyes swimming with anguish and regret. "Y/N, please, if you'll just let me explain-"

"No," you cut him off sharply, instinctively backing away from the table as if physical distance could somehow lessen the emotional pain. "You don't get to explain anything right now. You carelessly allowed yourself to be photographed with her in public. You knew exactly what risks that entailed. You understood perfectly well what was at stake, and yet..." Your voice cracked under the weight of your emotions. "I placed my absolute trust in you. I entrusted you with the most precious thing in my entire world."

"Please believe me when I say I never intended for any of this to happen," Jongho pleaded, rising from his chair and reaching toward you desperately, but you instinctively recoiled from his attempted touch. "The company had already prepared contingency plans for various scenarios. I thought I could handle-"

"You thought what exactly?" you interrupted, your voice sharp with pain as tears of anger and betrayal burned in your eyes. "That you could make decisions about our future without even consulting me? That you could allow my daughter to become nothing more than a convenient publicity opportunity?"

The CEO cleared his throat diplomatically. "Miss Y/N, I must emphasize that this solution we're proposing represents the most advantageous outcome for everyone involved in this situation-"

"Advantageous?" A bitter laugh escaped your throat, the sound entirely devoid of humor. "I'd very much like to know exactly who benefits from this arrangement. Your company's bottom line? Your carefully cultivated public image? Have you given any thought at all to what might be advantageous for my daughter's wellbeing?"

Turning back to face Jongho, your voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, laden with years of careful sacrifice. "For years, I've lived my entire life in the shadows, keeping our past relationship hidden from the world, doing everything in my power to protect Nari. And you managed to demolish all of that careful protection in one thoughtless moment."

The raw pain evident in Jongho's expression was almost unbearable to witness. "Y/N, please... you know how deeply I love Nari. We can work through this together, find a solution that protects everyone."

"Love?" Your voice broke on a single syllable. "If this is love, then it should have manifested as protection. Love would have meant thinking through the consequences before acting. Love would have demanded consulting me before allowing our private lives to be transformed into fodder for public consumption."

Jongho suddenly surged to his feet, his chair scraping violently against the floor. "I want to be absolutely clear - I did not agree to any of this!" he insisted vehemently, his hand reaching out toward you in a gesture of desperate supplication. "All I want is to do what's best for our family!"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught painfully in your throat as a tempest of conflicting emotions raged within you. Before you could gather your scattered thoughts, Jongho pressed on, his voice raw with emotion and desperation.

"Just this morning, you told me you wanted her to know I'm her father!" His eyes searched yours pleadingly, desperate for understanding. "What changed between then and now? Help me understand what's different!"

Your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides as the full weight of his words crashed over you. "Everything changed the moment you allowed our private life to become a public spectacle," you responded, your voice quavering with an overwhelming mixture of anger, fear, and protective instinct. "I wanted her to discover you as her father in our own way, on our own timeline - not as part of some hastily constructed corporate strategy to minimize scandal."

The CEO's voice cut through the tense silence, his tone carefully measured. "Miss Y/N, I understand your concerns, but we need to address this situation immediately. The longer we wait, the more difficult damage control becomes."

You turned to face him, your expression hardening with renewed determination. "The only 'damage' I'm concerned about is the potential harm to my daughter's wellbeing, and I will not allow her to become collateral damage in your corporate crisis management."

Without another word, you spun on your heel and strode purposefully toward the door, your footsteps echoing sharply against the polished floor. The sound of chairs scraping and voices calling after you faded into background noise as you focused solely on reaching Nari.

You had barely made it halfway down the hallway when a gentle but firm hand caught your arm, causing you to pause mid-stride. "Y/N, wait." Hongjoong's voice was soft but steady, his grip loosening slightly when you turned to face him.

You laughed bitterly, the sound catching roughly in your throat as raw emotion threatened to overwhelm you completely. "With all due respect, you're the last person I want to talk to right now," you managed to say, each word carrying the weight of your internal turmoil. "I need to get my daughter and leave," you repeated, your voice tight with barely contained emotion as you struggled to maintain your composure. "Right now."

"I know," Hongjoong replied softly, maintaining steady eye contact as he spoke with careful deliberation. "And I won't stop you. But please, just take a moment to breathe and center yourself. Nari is safe and happy with the others right now, playing and laughing without a care in the world. She doesn't need to see you this upset."

His words hit home with devastating accuracy, forcing you to acknowledge the painful truth in them. Your hands were still trembling uncontrollably, your breathing coming in short, uneven gasps that betrayed your emotional state. The last thing you wanted was to frighten Nari with your current emotional turmoil, to let her see how deeply shaken you were by these unexpected developments.

"Y/N," Hongjoong began again, his voice maintaining that perfect balance between gentleness and firmness, "I know you're scared and angry right now, and believe me, you have every right to feel this way. But please, just listen for a moment - that's all I'm asking." He paused meaningfully, waiting until you reluctantly met his unwavering gaze before continuing with careful precision. "This isn't just about damage control or corporate image - it's about protecting Nari in the most effective way possible."

"The photos are already out there in the world," he continued softly, his voice carrying a note of regrettable certainty. "Even if we pursue every possible legal action against the media outlets, we can't undo what's been done. Nari's face is now recognizable to the public. Without the company's extensive protection and comprehensive security measures, she'll be completely vulnerable to constant harassment from aggressive reporters and obsessive fans who won't hesitate to cross boundaries."

"By controlling the narrative ourselves," Hongjoong explained, his tone remaining calm and reasonable even as he delivered these difficult truths, "we can provide her with proper security measures, carefully manage media access, and create clear, enforceable boundaries that will protect her privacy as much as possible. It's not an ideal situation, I know that better than most, but it's the safest option we have available to us right now. One way or another, the media will run this story - it's inevitable. At least this way, we can protect her on our own terms, maintaining some control over how this sensitive information is presented to the world."

You felt the fight slowly drain from your body as the weight of Hongjoong's words settled over you. As much as you wanted to deny it, to rage against the unfairness of it all, you couldn't ignore the undeniable logic in his argument. Your fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of your sleeve as you struggled to process this new reality, where protecting Nari might mean sacrificing the very privacy you'd fought so hard to maintain.

Looking at Hongjoong now, you couldn't help but recognize the stark contrast between his measured, thoughtful approach and Jongho's impulsive actions. While Jongho had acted rashly, potentially compromising Nari's safety, Hongjoong was offering a voice of reason and genuine concern for your daughter's wellbeing. His leadership qualities shone through in this moment of crisis, demonstrating why he was trusted with guiding the group through countless challenges. The way he presented the situation - with clarity, empathy, and an unwavering focus on Nari's protection - made you see things from a different perspective. Unlike the cold corporate strategy meeting, Hongjoong took the time to understand and acknowledge your fears while offering practical solutions. It was a stark reminder of how true leadership should function - not through unilateral decisions, but through understanding and guidance.

You couldn't help but wish Jongho had approached the situation with the same level of thoughtfulness and consideration that Hongjoong was displaying now. Perhaps if he had, you wouldn't be standing here, feeling like your world was crumbling around you.

"And about Jongho..." Hongjoong's voice softened, his expression shifting to one of gentle understanding. "I know you're hurt and feeling betrayed right now, but try to see this from his perspective for a moment. He's navigating completely uncharted territory here."

The leader's eyes held a mix of empathy and earnestness as he continued. "Being thrust into fatherhood in the public eye, trying to balance his responsibilities as an idol with his desperate desire to be there for his daughter - it's overwhelming. He's terrified of making mistakes, yet that fear itself led him to make one."

"When he saw Nari that day, all his careful planning went out the window. The pure joy of being able to openly interact with his daughter, even for just a moment..." Hongjoong paused, choosing his words carefully. "It clouded his judgment, yes, but it came from a place of love and longing."

"I'm not excusing his actions," Hongjoong added quickly, holding up a placating hand. "But I've seen how this situation has been tearing him apart. He wants nothing more than to be the father Nari deserves, even if he's still learning what that means."

Your breath caught in your throat as Hongjoong's words sank in, forcing you to confront the complexity of emotions swirling within you. The anger was still there, burning hot and fierce, but it was now tempered by an understanding that left you feeling hollow and uncertain. Standing in that sterile hallway, you found yourself at a crossroads between protecting the careful life you'd built and accepting that perhaps it was time for something new to take its place.

Hongjoong's gentle smile and understanding demeanor provided a small measure of comfort amid the chaos. "How about we borrow some time and sit down to talk this through properly, hm?" he suggested, his voice carrying that same reassuring steadiness that had helped ground you moments before.

You found yourself nodding, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Despite the tempest of emotions still churning within you, you had to admit that taking a moment to breathe and think clearly wasn't the worst idea. After all, any decisions made in the heat of anger rarely led to the best outcomes - especially when those decisions would affect Nari's future.

"Coffee?" Hongjoong smiled warmly, and you finally released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"Yes, coffee," you agreed softly, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Six — Azriel x Reader

Note — Tumblr still isn’t allowing me to tag some of you. I’ll keep trying but if you haven’t already, make sure you check in settings that your username is able to be searched/tagged! Mwah 💕

Summary: Reader seeks comfort after the events in Fenlaros. Lines are crossed that can’t be uncrossed. Actions come with consequences.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Some violence. Things get fiiiilthy. 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.

It’s not clear who punches who first, because fists are flying left and right. The male in front of you lands a harsh hit on your cheek, the metal of a ring catching your skin, but there’s no chance to register the burst of pain, because you’re being shoved, and you’re shoving back, and your knuckles are pummelling into another male’s face while his friend sends a punch straight into your gut.

It’s that impact that winds you too much to move. You’re doubling over, trying to draw breath while the fight continues around you. The same male goes to hit you a second time.

But he doesn’t have a chance as Rhys comes lunging at him and knocks him to the floor. Your friend is as flawless with his fists as he is with steel. The Fenlaros male doesn’t stand a chance against him.

This is…this is bad. If you can somehow round your friends up and get out of there before it gets any worse, you may be able to escape the repercussions. A fight like this between two camps could carry a punishment anywhere from revoked privileges to an outright flogging. You’d really rather not face a disgruntled Lord of Windhaven upon your return.

Through the brawl, you’re searching for both Azriel and Cassian. You’ve lost sight of them both completely. And you know they can hold their own, that they’re some of the best fighters in all of Illyria, but the four of you are vastly outnumbered. Even the trio of your closest friends have limits, and being dogpiled by a group of males out for blood surely brings them close to theirs.

Someone grabs the back of your shirt, and with your breath having returned to you somewhat, you round on them, ready to defend yourself once more. However, it’s Cassian who looms over you, hair tousled and shirt wrinkled.

He yells at you over the noise, “This is getting out of hand! We need to get out of here!”

Thank gods he’s choosing to be sensible for once. You suppose even Cass knows when a fight is worth having.

“I’m trying to find Az!” You shout back. “I don’t know where he—”

“Kaeda already pulled him out. Let’s grab Rhys and go!”

Now is a really, really inappropriate time to feel jealous.

And yet jealous, you are.

And maybe even a little hurt, too. Did Az even try to find you before making an exit with Kaeda?

You banish the thoughts, allowing Cassian to wrench you through the people and mostly avoid getting hurt, besides the odd wayward fist that isn’t intended for you. The second he spots Rhys, still fighting with the male who winded you, he’s grabbing him firmly by the collar of his shirt and leaving no room for protest.

“We’re getting out of here before this turns really bloody.” He tells him loudly.

Rhys doesn’t put up a fight. He nods, straight on board with the exit strategy. His wild, alert gaze swivels to study you. “You’re alright?”

“Fine.” You nod. “Let’s go.”

It turns out the exit strategy is to just shove through hordes of people until you find a way out. Rhys is keeping hold of Cassian and you’re keeping hold of Rhys, and the three of you create an aggressive little train that wends through the chaos until cold air washes over you, and you’re spilling out onto the front path. You can hear the distant whoosh and thwack of the Fenlaros lot having no choice but to turn on each other.

“Y/N!”

You turn, just in time to see Az pushing away from a wall, Kaeda in tow. She carries a bloodied dish rag that she was clearly using to dab at his bust lip, but she falls back as Az strides over to you.

“I was looking for you everywhere.” He grabs your chin in his hand, turning your head to the side. “Your cheek is cut.”

You stare back at him, waiting for him to say something — something that even vaguely resembles an explanation as to why he started all of this.

“We should really get out of here—”

“Does it hurt?” He interrupts Rhysand’s interjection, his touch gentle despite the ferocity in his gaze. His thumb brushes over your cheek.

You’re too pissed off to care about his concern.

“I’ll live.” You snap, shoving him away from you. “Azriel, what the fuck?”

“My sentiments entirely.” Cass mumbles.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You continue. “You were the one who said coming here was nothing to be worried about, and then you start that? Have you totally lost your mind?”

“My sentiments entirely.” Rhys echoes.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw ticks. He takes a step back, swallowing hard. “Sorry for being protective—”

“Possessive, more like—”

“It’s my fault.”

Both your heads snap round as Kaeda steps closer. She stares between you, wide-eyed. Doe-eyed. Looking like she stole the last slice of cake and has a litany of evidence stacked against her.

“He was being protective over me.” She says, and you freeze. She angles herself towards Azriel. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that Thedis and I have history. I don’t know why I did. I’m sorry, I—I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

Oh.

Oh.

That’s—that’s not what you thought was happening.

Clearly, you and Kaeda have two very different understandings of what went down.

You study Az closely, waiting for his reaction — to see if Kaeda is right, and it wasn’t you he was starting a fight over at all.

He stares at her like she’s spoken in a foreign tongue. He opens his mouth.

“Shit.” Kaeda swears suddenly, looking past him. “Shit, that’s my father.”

Each of you swivels around to see the colossal male striding down the path towards you, two slightly — very slightly — smaller males flanking either side of him. His long hair falls about his head in unruly waves, and there’s something ruggedly handsome about his face that kind of makes you want him to smother you with his ridiculously huge bicep. Everything about him is dark. His eyes and his beard and the whorls of Illyrian tattoos that cover the expanse of his neck.

This…this is a male who could snuff out a family of six just by looking in their direction. And his gaze zeroes in entirely on Azriel.

Cassian yanks you closer by the back of your shirt. “Let’s go—”

“He’s going to want to speak with you.” Kaeda turns to Azriel. “You’re the only shadowsinger around here. He knows who you are. He’s intrigued by your power.”

Az continues to watch his approach. And then he squares his shoulders. “Fine.” He doesn’t even glance your way as he says, “I’ll see the rest of you back in Windhaven.”

You don’t like this. Not one bit. Who knows what the male might do to Azriel? You want to say something, to protest—

But Kaeda links her arm through his, and you know there’s no point. This isn’t your fight.

“Don’t get yourself into even deeper shit.” Cassian says, lifting you into his arms.

Kaeda doesn’t seem worried. She rolls her eyes at that. “He’s not going to hurt him.”

You can’t help staring at her. She seems so sure, so unbothered. Not just by what her father might have in store, but by the entire situation. She seems almost…smug.

Az did start an entire fucking brawl over her, after all.

You can’t meet his gaze as you cling to Cassian. Too much has happened in a short space of time. It makes you feel…full. Uncomfortable. You need some space from Az to process what exactly just occurred.

And it seems like your wish will be granted. It’s clear, as he steps closer, that Kaeda’s father has no interest in the rest of you. His cat-like eyes follow a shadow that coils around your friend, and you could swear his lips want to smirk. Like there’s some inside joke the rest of you aren’t privy to.

“Go.” Azriel says, and neither Rhys nor Cass need telling twice. They don’t seem particularly concerned.

Your gaze snags on Az just as Cassian’s arms tighten around you, and he shoots into the skies with an unpleasantly steep climb. Rhys does the same.

And as Kaeda and Azriel become smaller the higher you go, you’re just able to glimpse Kaeda’s father stopping before him and shaking his hand. It’s then that you look away.

This isn’t for you to worry about. It’s—

It’s between him and Kaeda.

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The thing about flying — or, in your case, being flown — is that it’s invaluable for moments of pensiveness. There’s no better time to face your thoughts than when the clarity of the sky stretches all around you.

But that can also be really fucking dangerous. Because you think. And then you think some more. And then suddenly, you’re thinking about anything and everything all at once, thinking about ifs, buts, maybes, thinking yourself into a bad mood.

And that is precisely what you do.

You are pissed the fuck off.

So pissed off, you want to scream into the void, at the shifting landscape below. You’re pissed off with Azriel, with his actions, with your entire situation.

He has never been as stupid, as reckless, as he has been recently. Never did you think you’d see a day where Cassian was the more sensible of the two. You’re used to Az being the mediator, to always approaching situations with a rational mind.

And yet these days, he’s a ticking time bomb. You don’t know who he might have a problem with, and clearly you don’t know why, given that you so wrongly assumed his protectiveness — possessiveness — flared up over you.

Of course it was Kaeda. How stupid you are.

Lust is one hell of a blinding light.

Every few seconds, you tell yourself you’re not going to think about it. And then a few seconds after that, you’re straight back to that constant screech of AZRIELANDKAEDAAZRIELANDKAEDAAZRIELANDKAEDA.

If this is who he’s becoming because of her…you’re not sure that’s a good thing.

By the time Cassian is setting you down in front of the cottage, your mood is absolutely foul. You feel sobered by the situation. You may as well have not had a drop of alcohol at all.

Rhys doesn’t stick around. He tells you and Cass that he’s going to Velaris — he wants to explain what happened in Fenlaros to his father before the High Lord can hear it from anyone else. And so it’s just you and Cassian traipsing into the cottage, freezing cold and fed up that the night went how it did. Your stomach is starting to ache where the male punched you, the cut on your cheek starting to sting.

You head straight for the kitchen and begin turfing through the cabinets, looking for a half-empty bottle of whiskey or a snack or something. You slam each cabinet door closed, but it does nothing to alleviate your irritation.

Cassian lights a fire, his eyes watching you closely. Perhaps he can sense that something is brewing in your veins. And he’d be right about that — you’re just not sure what it is.

Finally, you sit up on the kitchen counter and settle on biting into a stale bread roll. It’s dry and tasteless, but it occupies your mouth and stops a scream from escaping.

“I want to clean that cut on your cheek.” Cass strides over to the kitchen, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Only in your heart. “No.” You lie.

He nods, and just like the other night, he begins gathering medical supplies. He’s getting good at this. You kind of want to tell him not to bother, to just let the cut sting, but you’re brooding too much to get the words out.

You swallow down your last, dry bite of bread, and you comment, “I knew going to Fenlaros was a fucking terrible idea.”

Cassian chuckles. There isn’t much that fazes him. “In hindsight, I don’t know what we were thinking.”

“With your cocks, probably.”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, and then his hands are on your knees, parting your legs so he can slot himself in between. You don’t protest; he’ll only start a mother hen routine and threaten to bring you to a healer instead.

He wets a rag and begins to gently dab the gash on your cheek. It hurts, but not enough. Not bad enough to drown out the thoughts of the night’s events. You go through them from start to finish, and you have to suck in a deep breath just to stop yourself from punching something.

Why had Kaeda suggested such a stupid fucking thing?

And okay, you can’t put the blame entirely on her; it’s mostly your jealousy that stokes your anger. You, Azriel, Cassian and Rhys are all fully autonomous adults. Any of you could have shot the idea down and refused to go.

But it just…it just sits funny with you, weird in your chest. Something about it feels…gross.

Again — probably your jealousy talking.

But the entire thing had been a shit show from start to finish. You should have known, from the self-loathing thoughts that were pelting you on the way there, that you should never have gone. And your failure to listen to your gut only worsens your mood.

“You push that brain to think any harder and it’ll explode.” Cassian murmurs, his warm breath fanning your face. “You can share, if you like. I may even be able to dredge up some wisdom to impart.”

You bite down on your lower lip. “Why would Kaeda’s father want to speak with Az?”

It surprises you that the question makes him smile. “I wouldn’t worry over that.” He says. “I imagine he’s more interested in speaking to Az because he’s fucking his daughter than because he came to a rival camp.”

You almost flinch at the words.

Of course, you know that by now, Azriel and Kaeda have probably taken that leap and slept together. But torturing yourself with your thoughts is different to hearing it said aloud, and by someone so close to Az, too.

It hurts. And you want to scratch away at the feeling. It might just be what tips you over.

Cass studies you for a moment, reading the change, the tightening, in your expression. He knows there’s something — but thank the gods he doesn’t know what.

He turns his attention to your hand — your knuckles must have split when you threw a couple of good punches — and he begins to clean it gently.

“Here I am again, eh? Playing healer. I should get myself an apron.”

He’s trying to make you laugh, but you can barely force your lips to twitch upwards. He drinks in your pathetic attempt with a sympathy that you can’t stand. And, sensing that humour isn’t going to be enough tonight, he tries a different approach.

“Talk to me, Y/N.” He pleads softly, dabbing gently at your hand. “Please…”

You frown. You’re thinking and feeling too many things at once to make sense of them. Running through the entire night over and over. You’re not sure which of those feelings will rear its ugly head when you try to speak.

But you open your mouth, and the words just spill out.

“I really fucking hated myself tonight.”

Cassian pauses momentarily. And then he continues his treatment to your wounds. “Y/N, fights break out every other hour—”

“No. Not because of the fight. It wasn’t that.” You swallow a lump down. “It was the flying.”

“…the flying?”

“Being carried by Rhys while the rest of you flew so freely. Knowing I’ll never be able to do that. I’m Illyrian, and yet I’m always going to be confined to the ground. I hated myself—”

“Y/N—”

“I really fucking hated myself, Cass. And to be confronted by that fact every damn time I take my shirt off…to see the fucking hideous remains of my wings—”

Your words are cut short when Cassian’s huge hands grab your face and force you to look at him. It stings the cut on your cheek, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he stares at you fiercely.

“No. Cut that out right now.” A muscle in his jaw moves. You’re looking back at a lesser-spotted serious Cassian. “There is no part of you — not one part — that comes even close to being hideous, scars or no scars. You’re brilliant. Inside and out. You’re fucking beautiful, and I love you, and I won’t have you hating yourself. Particularly not at the hands of your piece of shit father.”

For a moment, you’re so stunned by the impassioned speech that you don’t know what to say. Thanking him wouldn’t be enough. And you think you might want to cry, but tonight, crying wouldn’t be enough, either. Nor would screaming. You just…want to feel something different. Something good.

Something worth feeling.

You stare back at Cassian, and your throat bobs.

And it might be against your better judgement, but you cover his hands with yours, and you haul your mouth to his.

You can’t exactly explain it, but he has a mouth as rugged as his general appearance, something rough and untamed and just…Cassian. It’s exactly what you need in that moment. You kiss him as if you’ve kissed him a thousand times before.

You feel the moment’s hesitation on his end. It’s rare that anything is able to knock him silent, but this most certainly does. After a pause, he rips his mouth away from yours, and he stares at you, wide-eyed and flushed, reading your face as if in search of an answer to an unspoken question.

But his internal battle isn’t a long one. He seems satisfied with whatever conclusion he comes to. And then he’s surging forward and kissing you back, hard.

What follows is not slow nor tentative.

You and Cassian love each other dearly, but there are no illusions that this is anything but needed pleasure. He’s not reciprocating because he’s spent hours daydreaming about this, or because you mean more to him than any other female.

Cassian would fuck a tree if a stirred branch waved in his general direction.

And that is absolutely fine. That is exactly what you need.

He wrenches your legs further apart and yanks you to the very edge of the counter, just so he can get closer, kiss you harder. His hand snakes up the nape of your neck and bunches in your hair, strands of it tangling around his fingers, and he tips your head back, his mouth scorching hot and hungry on yours.

This is not something you’ve ever thought about, because he is just Cassian. He’s the male who pisses you off by leaving weapons lying around under couch cushions, who sings loudly at the top of his voice first thing in the morning, who fights like fighting is going out of fashion. Since the first day you’d met him, when his eleven-year-old self had looked you up and down and challenged you to an arm wrestle, he’s always just been Cassian.

You’ve always needed him in some impulsive, temperamental way — someone who keeps you on your toes, even if you complain about it sometimes. But now, you need him in a different way.

You part your mouth from his, just long enough to rip your shirt off and chuck it vaguely over his shoulder. Cass watches as you unclasp the bandeau that covers your breasts, and that’s being thrown away, too, and now your top half is naked, and Cassian is growling. It’s not even that he hasn’t seen these parts of you before, but you’d think it was the first ever time, going by the way his eyes darken, and a thousand sinful thoughts flit over his face.

“Fuck.” His voice is deeper. Both of his hands cup your breasts, and he kisses you again. “I love these.”

You smile, and you lock your legs around his waist, and you both groan as you yank him as close as he can get, and you’re grinding the centre of you over the bulge in his breeches. That, alone, feels too good — the length of him pushing through the barrier of your clothing. It’s not enough. You need more. You need him inside you.

Cass seems to echo the sentiment as he growls and finally yanks you fully off the counter. “No screwing around.” He says through gritted teeth. “I need to fuck you.”

His hands are at your breeches, and he’s ripping them open, and you’re so wet between your legs that you have to rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. Cassian notices, of course, and one side of his mouth tips up into a smirk.

“Turn around.”

You do.

You’re happy to be commanded. You don’t want to be in charge, don’t want to teach.

You want to be taken, and you want to be taught.

His rough hands shove your breeches all the way down, and then he’s seeing to his, ripping at the buttons and stays just enough to pull the hard length of him out. You turn your head to drink in the sight, but he doesn’t allow it.

He slams your front against that counter, and then he’s at your back, the head of his cock brushing against you as he murmurs into your ear, “How do you want it?”

You think your mouth might be watering. “Hard.”

“Hard?”

“Hard.”

“Brace yourself, then, sweetpea.” He grabs your hands, plants them firmly on the counter, calluses biting into your skin. His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he asks, “Are you ready for me?”

You couldn’t be more ready if you tried. You moan, pushing your ass back against him. His chuckle is felt through every inch of you.

He moves one hand down, drags it down your body, slots it between your legs. Your hips give a little jerk as he mops up some of your wetness with his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, you’re ready for me.” There’s a smirk in his voice. His fingers land on your clit, and he nips your ear again. “Good girl.”

You open your mouth — to say something, or to beg, you’re not sure. But there’s no chance.

The head of Cassian’s cock is guided to your entrance. You gasp at the mere feeling of it bumping against you, teasing the opening.

And then he fucking thrusts all the way in, hard enough that you slam once again against the counter. Medical supplies go flying onto the floor.

And gods, it feels too good.

There’s a tiny bite of pain, yes, but it’s pleasurable — more a feeling of fullness. He’s pushed all the way in to the hilt, and the guttural noise that leaves him might just be enough to make you come. It’s animalistic, the way he groans, almost a snarl.

“Hard?” He repeats, withdrawing slightly.

You gasp, your head tipping back. “Hard.”

“Thank the Mother.”

You yelp as his hand suddenly smacks against your ass cheek, and then he’s spreading you open and thrusting in again.

He is not gentle.

He is not soft or tentative or even kind.

This is how Cassian — the much-feared Illyrian — fucks.

And you like it, want it, need it. You push back against him to remind him he doesn’t need to be gentle. Forget about the fact that you’ve always known each other, that you have a fondness for each other.

Fuck me, you communicate silently. Ruin me, and make me forget who I am.

He growls, as if those very thoughts reached him mind-to-mind. And fuck you, he does.

You’re slammed again and again against the counter, hard enough to bruise and leave marks. His balls slap against your skin as he damn near rams into you at an unstoppable force. He’s grunting and snarling and panting. His hands suddenly clasp both of your arms, and he pulls them behind your back, holding onto them and thrusting faster.

“Fucking knew,” he growls, “that your cunt would feel like this. That you’d squeeze my cock like this.”

He slows just slightly — just enough to roll his hips and make sure you feel every single inch of him stroking the inside of you. The shout that leaves you doesn’t even sound like you.

“You like that, sweetpea?” He chuckles darkly. He pushes in to the hilt again, and you moan — a mistake that comes with a penalty. His hips still. “Give me your words, sweetheart. I want to know how much you need my cock.”

“Cassian.” You grit your teeth. “Fuck me.”

He withdraws. Slams into you again. And then the rhythm picks up, the pace fast and raw and unbeatable. Gripping onto your arms gives Cass the perfect leverage to take you exactly as you want him to take you, as he wants to take you. He can’t possibly go any faster, reach any deeper.

Heat coils in your lower belly. You meet every one of his thrusts by bucking against him, and it spurs your body on. You can feel something brilliant building beneath your skin and firing through your veins.

And when he lets go of one of your arms and dips his hand between your legs, his fingers immediately finding your clit, you’re not at all sure that you won’t just explode.

As you feel the head of his cock hit deep inside you, unable to go any further, as the pads of his fingers circle your clit, the noise that leaves you is unlike any other noise you’ve ever made. You’re vaguely aware of a sudden surge of wetness between your legs that drips down your thighs. Cassian made you squirt.

He half-laughs-half-groans, and his teeth nip your ear. “Sweetpea,” he bites out, “who knew you were such a filthy girl? Is this what I’ve been missing out on?”

You can’t speak — words fail you. You’re utterly incapable of doing anything but making your breathy little noises, your fractured moans, as Cassian pounds into you. His ministrations at your clit don’t even falter, even as he lets out a noise that hints at his own release being close.

“Come for me again.” Your wetness still drenches his hand, you know, but it’s not enough — he wants more. His finger presses down hard on your clit, and at the exact same moment, he lands a harsh kiss on your neck that turns into a suck. He slams into you so hard that you have to grip the counter to stop yourself being winded for the second time that night. And you erupt.

You hear the exact moment the walls of your cunt clamp around Cassian’s length. The noise he makes is one that you need to commit to memory, keep for a cold, lonely night when it’s just you and your hand. You’ve never heard anything like it. You never imagined he could make a sound like it.

“Oh, gods, yes,” He damn near whines. His hand is suddenly at your back, and he pushes you down, bends you over until your cheek is pressed to the countertop. He fastens that hand at your shoulder, the other at your hip, and then he’s on the homestretch. “Oh, fuck!”

He thrusts, and he thrusts, and he thrusts — and then he goes still, his cock exploding inside you.

He grunts through every spurt, his fingers biting into your skin. You’re not sure you can move as your cunt continues to contract around him, draining him of every last drop. The counter and Cassian’s hands are the only things holding you up. If he steps away now, your legs may just buckle and drag you to the floor.

So in contrast to the wicked noises you were both just making, near-silence sweeps in, broken only by you both gasping for breath. You close your eyes, your brow furrowing. Press your forehead against the surface you’re currently slumped over. You can’t remember how to…how to exist outside of pleasure.

You are well and truly fucked out.

You’re almost content to just stay there, gripping onto the counter for dear life. But then Cassian finally slides out of you, pulling his seed with him. It drips down your legs, into your underwear. A shudder leaves you.

“Shit, that was—” Cass breathes a laugh. “Gods. Why have we never done that before?”

You manage your own weak, sated chuckle, and finally try to stand up straight. “Because friends aren’t supposed to fuck friends senseless.”

“No,” he agrees. Pauses. “But, like…it doesn’t have to make things awkward, does it? We’re both adults. Capable of sharing pleasure and…and carrying on as normal…”

Oh, bless his heart.

Non-committal Cass is now worried that a casual rearranging of your organs might turn into you falling in love.

“It’s not going to be awkward, Cass.” You snort softly. “I’m just not sure I can move.”

He stares at you. And you stare at him.

The laughter hits you both at the same time. It’s laughter of both relief and release. An acknowledgement that you both feel a darn sight better now than you did when you first walked in. The night isn’t weighing on you so heavily, now.

Is that bad? Perhaps.

But you can fuck people, too. Why…why should you regret it?

“Here.” Tucking himself back into his breeches, Cassian yanks his shirt off, handing it to you. “You can use this to clean yourself up. I’ll run you a bath.”

He turns, but you’re stopping him with a hand on his arm. “I don’t want special treatment just because we fucked. Just…be normal.”

One eyebrow quirks up. “I planned to run you a bath after I cleaned your cheek. We just got a bit…sidetracked. I’m looking after you, Y/N — as your friend.”

You study his face. He’s open, sincere — not pitying. Good.

“Okay.” You tug your hand away. “Thank you.”

He dips his chin, and then he’s strolling away again. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, turning back to look at you.

“I love you.” He says. “Just…don’t ever doubt that.”

You’re not sure you ever could. He’s one of the few constants in your life.

You nod, suddenly not sure you can make eye contact. “I know. I love you, too.”

He, too, nods. And then he disappears, and you’re listening to his boots thudding against each step of the stairs.

You wipe yourself down, tug your breeches up. Slump back against the counter. Drag a hand over your face.

You kind of just want to sleep, be unconscious, before the weighty thoughts begin to shove their way in again.

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The summons comes early the next morning, before the sun has even arisen.

One of Lord Devlon’s cronies comes to pluck you and Cassian from the cottage, lead you to the Camp Lord’s study. Azriel is already there when you arrive.

You meet his gaze as you sit down, trying to look for some clue as to what might have occurred in Fenlaros after you’d left. All he seems interested in is checking you over, surveying you for what injuries you have as a result of the night before.

You’re not all too sure if your stomach is tender because of the punch you received to your gut, or because of how thoroughly Cassian fucked you against the kitchen counter.

 Probably best not to linger on that thought for too long.

You’re sandwiched between your two friends, waiting for Lord Devlon to actually grace you with his presence. Where Rhysand is, you can only imagine — probably dealing with his father’s wrath.

You glance down at a slight, sudden pressure you feel at your leg. Azriel presses his thigh into yours, and you lift your gaze to meet his.

“You’re not too hurt?” He speaks quietly.

You shake your head. “You?”

“I’m fine. All good, Cass?”

With his typical, swaggering nonchalance that will most certainly land him in deeper shit, Cass grins and stretches his arms above his head. “Just peachy.”

“Az.” You coax the shadowsinger’s gaze back to yours. “What happened with Kaeda’s father?”

Perhaps you’re being a tad dramatic, but you’d lain awake pretty much all night, brooding on the fact that you’d fucked Cass whilst Az was being subjected to the gods knew what. Your thoughts had snowballed into preparing you for Az to return beaten black and blue — or not return at all.

But he looks…fine. A little roughed up from the brawl, but otherwise fine.

He opens his mouth, leaning closer, and that’s when the door flies open.

The three of you stand up immediately. Tuck your hands behind your backs. Bow your heads.

Lord Devlon saunters into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. His footsteps are loud and purposed as he strides to his chair.

“Sit.” He says coldly.

You take your seats once more. The Lord’s eyes skate over the three of you for a pensive few moments, before settling entirely on you. It makes you uncomfortable.

“So.” He sits back. “Who wants to take a stab at why I’m not very happy this morning?”

The three of you keep your mouths clamped shut.

“I’ll give you a clue. It’s not so much to do with a piss-poor night’s sleep, as it is to do with the fact that three of my fucking soldiers,” his lip curls as he looks you up and down, “and their little plaything,snuck off to a rival camp and picked a fight.”

“She’s not our—”

“Did I give you permission to speak, Azriel?”

The ticking in Az’s jaw is slight, but it’s there, as he stares forward. “No, my lord.”

“Then keep your fucking mouth shut until I do.”

Your friend bows his head once more.

“Can any one of you explain why, exactly, you not only travelled to a rival camp without my orders, but why you then decided to stoke tensions between our two camps? Because, you know, that’s their territory. They were well within their rights to defend themselves and not one of them is being punished for it.”

None of you are sure whether he actually wants an answer. It’s best to just…keep your mouth shut.

“None of you have anything to say?” Devlon’s eyebrows flick up. “Fine. How about I offer you my theory? Because I’m seeing a running theme, here.”

You can feel his hard, intense stare bounce from Azriel, to you, to Cassian. Back and forth and back and forth.

But it always returns to you.

It might be in that moment that you realise there’s another layer to this, that you stupidly hadn’t considered. One that’s really going to get Devlon and his cronies grinding their teeth.

You’re female.

And it’s bad enough for males, his soldiers, to behave like this. But you? A mere, docile female? Someone who should be focused on housekeeping and finding someone to breed with?

A female stepping outside of her place is more or less considered a crime by Illyrians. And you don’t have a Camp Lord father to get you out of that very deep shit.

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” Lord Devlon addresses you. He knows your name. He’s a cat playing with a mouse.

You meet his gaze and nod. “Yes, my lord.”

“The blacksmith’s daughter.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Hm. The thing is, Y/N, I am here to raise armies. To oversee the training of their soldiers. As Camp Lord, that is my duty.”

You grit your teeth, bite your tongue. You hate the condescending tone that is so fucking typical of Illyrian males. It’s patronising. Offensive. He’s stating blatant facts and explaining them to you as though you are a child.

But you simply dip your chin in acknowledgment, because playing your part is the only way the three of you are getting out of here with a slap on the wrist.

“I cannot afford for my soldiers to be distracted from their training, or be seduced into making trouble for themselves.” The way he looks you up and down, in that moment, makes you feel oily. “I need my soldiers to be prepared. If war came tomorrow, do you honestly think I could send these two out onto a battlefield?”

These two. He says it with such dismissal, such contempt, that you find yourself balling your fists at your sides. He’s always singled your friends out, tried to break them. He may have to tolerate Rhysand — his father being the High Lord and all — but the tiny slither of acceptance he has for Rhys does not hold up for Azriel or Cassian. He sees them as useless. As nobodies. He’s waiting for them to lose their lives in training or combat so he can be rid of them for good.

It boils your blood.

Before you can stop yourself, your lip curls. “I think they’re two of the best soldiers in Illyria, and you’re damn well lucky to have them.”

Devlon sneers back at you. “I’m sure you would say that. If only to keep them in your bed.”

Beside you, the arms of Cassian’s chair creak as he squeezes them hard. “My Lord—”

“If either one of you speaks without my permission again, I will string you up by your balls. Understood?”

There’s a pause. And then both Cass and Az are sitting back in their seats. Offering quiet, affirmative responses.

“So.” Devlon focuses on you once more. Anger mottles his cheeks a reddish hue. “Considering every time these two land themselves in shit, you are at the centre of it, I see only one appropriate course of action. I will not have you leading them astray. Be it pointless fighting or the absolute colossal fuck up of last night, you are always the common denominator. That stops today. This instant.”

You stare at him. You’re not entirely sure what he’s getting at, but something lurches in your stomach. You swallow down a lump in your throat and grip hard onto your chair.

“As soldiers under my command,” Devlon’s eyes flit between Cassian and Azriel, “I forbid you — and Rhysand — from having any more involvement with her. You will not spend time with her. You will not speak to her in passing. You won’t even look at her. If I find out you do, you’ll regret it.”

All three of you shoot up in your seats, alarmed looks passing your faces. “You can’t do this.” You’re the first to spit.

“Oh?” Devlon cocks an eyebrow. “This is Camp Windhaven, is it not?”

“Yes, but—”

“I am Lord of Camp Windhaven, am I not?”

“Obviously—”

“Then I absolutely have the authority to give such orders, and thus, consider them given. Starting today, your involvement with my soldiers ends.”

“My Lord,” Azriel’s tone is pinched, panicked, “you don’t understand — she’s living with us right now. Her father kicked her out of his home. She has nowhere else to go.”

“Do you think I give a shit about her domestic situation, Shadowsinger?” The Lord snaps at him. “I’m here to oversee the training of Windhaven’s soldiers. Not to get involved in pointless family drama.”

“But where am I supposed to go?” You can’t help it — you slam your fist against the arm of your chair. “What am I supposed to do?”

“That isn’t my problem.” Devlon shrugs. He stands up, planting his hands on the desk between you. He leans over with a glower. “But you better run home with your tail between your legs and begin mending relations with your father, because if I detect that there’s even a hint of involvement with you and my soldiers, I will make you regret it, girl. Do not cross me.”

He tucks — no, slams — his chair under the table. It’s a dismissal. You’re not allowed to respond.

You’re silent, too stunned to think, speak, breathe, as Devlon strides to the door and rips it open.

“Get the fuck out, all three of you.” He orders, and you stand numbly from your chair. “You two,” he directs his attention to your friends, “I want your asses in the training ring immediately. Go.”

They don’t want to, you can tell. They hesitate, but ultimately, there’s no other choice. They have no authority. They’re mere soldiers in training. This is their career, their life’s work, on the line. They can’t meet your gaze as they file out of the door, and you don’t blame them.

“And you?” Devlon stops you as you try to follow, gripping onto your shoulder hard. He may as well pick you up by the scruff of your neck like a boisterous pup. “You’d better heed my warning, Y/N the blacksmith’s daughter.”

He shoves you out of the room. You throw your hands out before you slam into the wall.

“Stay. The fuck. Away.”

azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @jjlevin @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @spikertrash @kindagoldylocks @barbiezambie @kht1998 @soupghoul @nyctophiliawitch @gracie1234567891011 @gaymistakeboi @luvmxo @rinalouu @microwaveallthedemons @starlightshowdown

[bella-goths-wife]

Kiss the barrel of my gun softly: chapter two

Chapter warnings: sexual tension, manipulation, threatening, angst, drinking, smoking, mentions of age gap relationship, reader is a brothel owner, probably ooc Sevika, reader being uncomfortable with unwanted sexual attention (not from Sevika)

Sevika sits back on Silco’s plush couch with a cigarette between her lips and a grim, expectant look on her face. Her robotic arm cradles a crystal glass filled to the brim with bourbon, the good kind that Silco had to have extracted from Piltover and only offers her when he wants to soften the blow of an oncoming conversation. 

“I heard about your run in with the Madame yesterday” Silco speaks slowly and with narrowed eyes as he lights his cigar, analysing her every move and reaction with the intent of finding out the cause of her actions

Sevika wills herself not to bristle at the mention of you, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a deep swig of the bourbon, using the burning sensation of the liquid to excuse her long silence.

“Nothing I couldn't handle” Sevika answers nonchalantly, hoping that Silco would drop the subject so she could leave and beat whoever ratted on her to a fucking pulp.

“Heard that you stopped young Peter from attacking the Madame while she was vulnerable” Silco states calmly with a arched brow as he blows out the smoke from his cigar 

“I did” Sevika admits as her mind quickly comes up with a satisfactory excuse to appease him “I assumed you wouldn’t want us to lose the chance for a partnership over something unimportant”

“A sign of disrespect to you is a direct disrespect to me when you're out representing my business” Silco shoots back with an unimpressed expression, not particularly happy about his second in commands excuses “seems pretty important to me, considering you’ve never tolerated it before”

Sevika stays silent as her hand grips her drink before she takes another large gulp, knowing she’d been caught out. Her eyes flick up to Silcos as his gaze bores into the side of her skull.

Silco lets out a sigh as he massages his temple with two fingers, leaning back in his chair with a clear look of annoyance at the situation. 

“I understand you and the Madame had a….. Friendship before she took over Emeralds brothel” Silco speaks slowly, choosing his words carefully

“Friendship” Sevika thinks to herself as she internally scoffs “if that's what he wants to call it”

“But i didn't make you my number two because of your affection for others” Silco continues with a sarcastic tone “i did it because of your ruthlessness and loyalty to Zaun, your loyalty to me as your boss and your friend”

Sevika stubs her cigarette out in the Jinx personalised ashtray on Silco’s coffee table, choosing to stay silent and accept her scolding.

“She’s denied our men entry and use of her brothel, refused my congratulations for her new title as Madame, refused my various invitations to meetings to discuss business partnerships and now disrespecting my people in people” Silco lists off with an irritated expression “She can’t keep disrespecting the chain of command without consequence, she needs to be leashed”

“I know, sir” Sevika breathed out through a defeated sigh, she knew he was right. She had been excusing your actions for a long time now, protecting you subtly from the shadows because of the guilt that weighed heavily on her heart and prevented her from sleeping at night. 

Silco lets out a deep sigh as he leans back and smokes his cigar with a concentrated face before blowing out the smoke and tilting his head in an almost curious manner.

“Maybe it's best if I handle this one and pay the new madame a visit” Silco suggests almost experimentally “if its too much-”

“I’ll handle it” Sevika speaks up quickly and firmly, eager to ensure that Silco stays separate from you “I’ll talk to her, warn her against doing anything else”

“It won’t be too much?” Silco asks almost condescendingly, testing to see how far he could push her until she snaps

“No, sir” Sevika speaks through gritted teeth as she downs her drink and stands, wanting to escape the conversation desperately “I’ll visit her at her brothel and give her a warning”

Silco looks at her with observant eyes and an arched brow before sighing and waving his hand to dismiss her from his scolding. Sevika doesn't waste her time in taking up his offer as she quickly makes her way to the door.

“Very well” Silco agrees in an almost bored tone as he watches her leave “see that it's handled”

Sevika only lets out a breath as the door closes behind her, leaving her standing alone outside Silco’s office. An exhausted look takes place on her face as her eyes wander to the small couch beside the office door, intended for people to wait on until Silco could see them. 

Her eyes move onto the empty other side of the door, the image forcing memories to worm their way to the front of her mind. She scoffs and sighs before shaking her head and beginning her journey to your brothel, trying to tamper the slight excitement in her bones at the prospect of talking to you.

——————————-past———————————

Sevika’s mind had been stuck on you and your oddly charming self since that night at the bar. She’d even gone as far as frequenting it more often in an attempt to spot you again. Unfortunately you’d managed to slip through her fingers as it seemed she couldn't find you anywhere.

Which is why she felt so confused at finding you waiting outside her boss’s office, leaning against the wall facing the door casually. You looked much more polished this time, cleaner without the muck covering your face and your hair tied back in an updo manner instead of being frazzled around your head. You were dressed differently too, your clothing much less casual and slightly more revealing but quite youthful compared to the dirty rags you were wearthat night at the bar. 

“What are you doing here all dressed up?” she asks as she leans on the wall next to you, attempting to spook you slightly but you simply turn your head and look up at her.

“Thought I’d see you somewhere around here” you state calmly as you look up at her and lock your eyes with hers

“Astute observation” Sevika scoffs out with a sarcastic tone “why are you here?”

“Madame Emerald has a meeting with Silco today and asked me to come with her” you answer as you nod your head in the direction of the office to show that the two were already in there.

“You're working for Emerald today?” Sevika asks and you nod “that why you're dressed like that?”

“Madame likes to make sure I look presentable” you say with a shrug, a hint of a fond smile on your lips.

“Presentable huh?” Sevika asks as her eyes travel up and down your body “she got you working the floor like that?”

“I don’t do brothel work” you point out, the smile dropping from your face “i told you that”

“Kid, you don’t think I actually believe that do you?” Sevika asks with a smug tone and a disbelieving expression

You don’t reply to her prodding and teasing, simply rolling your eyes and scoffing. This only spurs Sevika on as she leans closer to your face so that you can feel her hot breath on your cheek.

“What, no reply?” She continues to tease with a raised brow and a mocking tone “and i thought you were all clever and confident?”

“Your men are coming” you state challengingly as you pick up the sounds of clumsy footsteps “do you really want them to see you like this with me?”

Sevika rolls her eyes with a scoff as she takes a step back from you, creating some distance between the two of you.

Sure enough, two of Silco’s men come stumbling around the corner seconds later and passing the two of you. They slow down slightly at the sight of you, smirks and crude whispers exchanged between the two of them as they approach you.

You look away with a slightly uncomfortable look on your face, crossing your arms around yourself almost in an attempt to self soothe and make yourself disappear. This seemingly pleases the two men who let out cruel laughs at your reaction.

They quickly shut up though, when sevika is spotted next to you with an absolutely deadly glare. She steps slightly in front of you as they get closer, her poncho dangling just in front of your hand as you feel tempted to grab the soft fabric.

The two men trip over themselves as they scurry away as quickly as possible. Sevika scoffs and rolls her as she returns to her previous position next to you against the wall.

“Fucking idiots” she mumbles her breath with a sigh

“They’re yours and Silco’s men” you point out, slightly surprised at her harsh words.

“So?” Sevika scoffs out with an obvious tone “Stupid’s stupid no matter what side they’re on”

You let out a chuckle at her blunt words,covering your smiling mouth with your palm to quieten down your giggles. Sevika can’t help her lips quirking up at the sound of your almost heavenly laugh, letting out her own huff of amusement before it dies down to a comfortable silence.

“How long until they finish up?” Sevika asks with a nod in the office's direction.

“Probably another ten minutes?” you guess before tilting your head curiously “shouldn’t you be in there, for protection and stuff?”

“Silco doesn’t need a babysitter, sweetheart” Sevika replies with a scoff “i'm sure he can handle himself against emerald just fine on his own”

“____” you correct her with your name “your people could get the wrong impression if they hear you calling me sweetheart”

Sevika steps in front of you, her robotic arm resting on the wall next to your head and effectively caging you in. Her face leans in closely as she smirks.

“Why would I care what impression they get?” Sevika asks obviously in a low tone

“Because flirting with me hardly makes you look loyal to Silco” you point out with a scoff “i’m one of his rivals assistants after all”

“What does it matter to Silco what I do in my free time?” Sevika asks suggestively

“Doing me is off limits” you state firmly, your hand going to her shoulder with the intention of pushing her away

“Says who?” Sevika asks with a low chuckle 

“Many, many people” you reply as your hand slides up from her shoulder to cup her cheek almost teasingly, unable to deny yourself from wanting to touch her.

“And who’s got the balls to tell me your off limits?” She asks with an amused scoff.

“Madame Emerald and Silco for one” you point out with an amused smile at her determination “unless they miraculously stop hating each other and make a business deal out of nowhere”

“Your infuriating” Sevika sighs out, smirk dropping at the reminder

“Yep” you answer back with a small laugh

“You're a brat, y’know that?” she asks with a huff as she leans in closer.

You're unable to resist as your eyes flutter closed in anticipation before snapping open suddenly and pulling your head back at the sound of talking and footsteps from the other side of the office door.

“They’re coming” you warn quickly with slight panic on your face

“Just my luck” Sevika grumbles out with a sigh before pulling away and creating distance between the two of you by standing next to you.

Madame Emerald exits the office with a foul look, clearly unhappy with the meeting's conclusion. She’s dressed in her usual elaborate emerald green outfit and makeup covering her ageing face, an outfit befitting someone with the title of madame.

She quickly makes her way towards you, a fond smile taking place on her lips at the sight of you as she notices some stray hairs and almost childishly tucks them behind your ears before patting your head affectionately

At the sight of Sevika, a frown takes over her expression as she shoots her an extremely unfriendly glare. She doesn’t even bother to acknowledge her more than that as she takes off down the hallway and calls for you to follow.

You gift Sevika one last smile when Silco isn't looking before following Madame Emerald obediently. Sevika watches your figure disappear down the hallway with an irritated expression, she can’t help but feel like you’ve slipped through her fingers once again.

There's always next time, she supposes.

—————————-present—————————-

You can't help but let out a sigh at the unwanted memories worm their way back into the front of your mind, wanting nothing more than to focus on the paperwork sitting in front of you.

“Everything okay Madame?” you hear from beside you

You let out another sigh before nodding and reminding yourself to keep stone faced, you could let everything out later but right now you were Madame Obsidian and not ‘____’

“Everythings fine, Ginger” you say calmly with a nod to the muscular, red haired woman “just…. Thinking”

Ginger simply gives you a nod and an understanding look before the older woman's face turns slightly awkward.

“More of Silco’s men came to the brothel earlier, offered a bag of coins each if we let them in” she speaks carefully, tiptoeing around the uncomfortable subject “I really think we should start letting them back in-”

“No” you cut her with a firm rejection “none of Silco’s people are allowed on the premises, thats final”

“But without their profit then we could go into debt-” she attempts to reason with you, but you cut her off once again

“No” you repeat firmly, a slight bit of vulnerability cracking into your voice “I won't allow it, i won't have anyone who works for that man near my girls”

Ginger's face softens with understanding at your words, how protective you are of your workers despite most of them being older than you yourself. The older woman just sighs and nods.

“Understood madame, i’ll leave you to your work” she says as she heads to the door, stopping herself before leaving fully and speaking in a quiet tone “she’d be proud of you, madame”

You can't stop the tears that flow down your cheeks and wet the paperwork underneath you as soon as the door swings shut. Small sobs barely muffled by your palm and your hand threading through the hair on your scalp and pulling harsh enough to burn, finally letting out the emotions you’d been hiding all day.

[itsa-me-lily]

I am still tired, but brain is less mush after some lunch. (Can you guess what I had)

Here is other Simon & Thimble playlist

Here is more Military Program Spouse AU

It helps to assume here that unless stated otherwise Simon is wearing a medical mask around reader. She’s just like whatever floats your boat my dude

Content warning;

Mention of food, medical devices, scars, cellulite

“Simon whatever your middle name is Riley you better not be looking at my legs.”

Maybe his mum had a point, that women developed eyes in the back of their head. He wasn’t deliberately looking at your legs, but he wasn’t not not looking either. For some reason unbeknownst to him, you had decided that you had to make the biggest batch of soup known to man. Sure the seasons were changing, summer slowly letting go for fall, but it wasn’t as if a chilly wind was rattling at the windows threatening to steal whatever heat existed. It was still relatively balmy, warm enough to have the windows open and enjoy the breeze. Warm enough that having the stove going made the kitchen borderline stuffy, encouraging you to cook in just a loose tank top and shorts that hit mid thigh.

Simon wasn’t a prude, he wasn’t scandalized at seeing the curve of your thighs, or grossed out by the cellulite. Everyone had fucking skin and however you wanted to dress in the comfort of your home you were welcomed to it. But he had eyes and well he was curious. His own body was covered in scars and tattoos that told a myriad of stories. So he looked to see what yours had to say.

Picking at the chicken you had left on the counter he counted the spots that your insulin pods left behind like stars, noticed how you missed a small strip of hair when you were shaving, even the mole that you had on the back of one ankle; they all came together to make up parts of a story about his wife that he was just starting to get.

He was so lost in thought, mechanically putting piece after piece of poached bird into his mouth, barely paying attention to anything besides the action of seeming busy, that he didn’t notice when you turned around, the exasperation in your voice finally catching his attention.

“Seriously? What did I just say?”

Simon wasn’t someone who startled, didn’t jump or hunch his shoulders to his ears. He had spent far to much time sharpening himself as to cut anyone who tried to catch him unaware. He just wasn’t prepared for you to admonish him like that, hands on your hips and looking for him to answer your question.

“What? You said not to look at your legs…I wasn’t lookin’ at them”

Not a lie, but not quite the truth.

“Yeah instead you’re eating your way through them!”

He blinked at you slowly once and then twice, following your gaze down to the plate of chicken leg quarters he was indeed making his way through. At least one looked like it had been pounced on by scavengers.

“You said no lookin’, nothing about no tasting.”

That was most certainly a twitch to your eye. That probably should have been concerning, but honestly Simon was secure enough in his height and size that if you tried to suffocate him he could throw you off. He was a good head taller than you, honestly how much damage could you do? When you pointed your wooden spoon threateningly at his chest it didn’t do much besides remind him of a little old grandma who would wield the same utensil as a weapon.

“You sir, are an asshole. Now go run to a shop and get me one of the pre cooked chickens.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve eaten half my damn chicken and like hell is my sancocho going to suffer for it.”

“Your what now?”

Yes Simon Riley knew he was being as ass. Yes he also thought that there was a realm of possibility that your upset face and clear murderous intentions were slightly endearing. But only slightly.

“My god damn soup. I swear to god if you fuck this up for me I will find a way to make you suffer the consequences.”

“Alright alright, no need to have a bird over some-heh, bird.”

He didn’t stay to see the double middle fingers you aimed for his back, he didn’t need to. He was pretty sure you were also cursing his name and maker. It wasn’t until the front door shut behind him that your colorful vocabulary was loudly shared with the world. It made him chuckle as he picked up his pace.

Heaven help anyone who got between a woman and her soup.

Edit

I am very passionate about my soup

[gojolvs]

I still want you.

Chapter 8

⤿ Satoru Gojo × reader

Falling in love with the Satoru Gojou wasn’t an easy task. You truly love him but will this come to an end?

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, cheating.

Genre; angst, cheating, infidelity, jik, Gojou × reader

Notes: the tag-list is open if you'd like to be mentioned everytime i update just send me a message on the box. Also super sorry for not updating but im back!

previous chapter ⤏ next chapter

Before you knew it, you had arrived back at your hotel, Sumire sleeping on your arms. With a sigh, you got up from the bus seat and made your way to the entrance. As you carried him to the room, you couldn't help but smile at how peaceful he looked.

As you walked to your room, constantly feeling your phone vibrate with messages and missed calls, a wave of guilt washed over you. You had just stormed out of your sister's wedding party in a fit of anger and now you couldn't help but feel selfish and regretful. You knew that your actions had caused a scene and potentially ruined her special day. The weight of your decision and its consequences weighed heavily on your conscience.

Was she really pregnant by Satoru? Do you mean absolutely nothing to him? Although you had shared an intimate night the night you went to the bar, you felt stupid for believing his lies. These thoughts were swirling around in your head, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn't believe that he would do this to you, especially after everything you had been through together. The trust you had in him was shattered, and you couldn't help but feel foolish for falling for his smooth words and false promises. It was a painful reminder that sometimes, people are not who they seem to be.

Maybe you should've taken that trip with Sumire, just the two of you, to clear your mind. But now, it was too late. You were committed to this path, no matter how unsure you felt. As you walked, the sound of your heels clicking on the concrete floor was a constant reminder of the life you were leaving behind. And with each step, you couldn't help but curse under your breath, knowing that your new pair of Jimmy Choo heels were now ruined.

You felt the tiredness of caring him hit you mid way to the elevator. You sighed with relief as the elevator doors opened, grateful for the brief moment of rest.

As you stepped inside, you couldn't help but wonder how much longer you could keep up this routine. But then you looked down at Sumire in your arms, and you knew you would do anything for him. You straightened your back and held him a little tighter, determined to make it through the rest of the day with a smile on your face.

"Well, someone looks happy." Turning to your side, you barely noticed the tall man with pink hair staring at you. Curling your smile into an awkward one, you turned back to continue trying to shove Sumire up, as he was slipping from your hold. Although the man's comment had caught you off guard, you didn't want to engage in a conversation with a stranger while holding your child. Plus, his pink hair and unusual choice of words made you a bit uncomfortable. You focused on sumire and decided to ignore him, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

"Yeah, well I'm happy to be with my son is all," you chuckled awkwardly. Despite the pink-haired man being oddly attractive, you weren't really looking for a conversation because unfortunately for you, Sumire was starting to wake up. "Do you need help carrying him? It looks like you're struggling," the man said, curling his lips into a genuine smile.

As you handed over your toddler, a wave of anxiety washed over you. You knew that letting a stranger hold your child was not a wise decision, but you were desperate for a break from carrying him. With a mixture of hesitation and aggression, you reluctantly agreed. The man's reaction was unexpected - he froze in place as your little white haired boy happily grabbed onto his neck and curled up. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight. "Well since you're carrying my kid, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Y/N."

"My name is Sukuna." The pink haired man said, he silently checked you out. Looking at your heels to your dress he definitely knew you had some type of cash on you. All you were wearing was designer brands. "Nice to meet you." you said clutching your purse. You wondered if the man was here on a business trip because of the way he was dressed. He was wearing a suite which suited his body figure well.

You couldn't help but notice he looked a little like one of sumire's friends from school. However, his intense gaze and calculating demeanor made you feel uneasy. It was almost as if he was sizing you up, and you couldn't shake off the feeling that he had ulterior motives for wanting to meet you. You started to second-guess your decision to meet him, wondering if it was safe to trust him.

"Wait a minute... I know you." He said chuckling.

Realizing that you had never met this man before, you glanced back at the elevator sign, wondering if he had mistaken you for someone else. However, as you looked back at him, his chuckle turned into a sly smile and you couldn't help but feel suspicious. Who was this man and why did he seem to recognize you? You couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off."why is this elevator so damn slow" you thought.

"You do?" You laughed awkwardly, trying to hide the fear in your voice. All you could do was pray that he wasn't some serial killer.

"Mmm yeah I do. You're Satoru Gojos wife right?" tilting his head a little. You sighed, he was definitely one of Satorus business partners.

The man continued to look at you curiously, his pink hair falling into his dark eyes. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious under his gaze. "Yes, I am. And who might you be?" you replied, trying to maintain a polite tone despite your growing irritation. It seemed like Satoru's business partners were always popping up at the most inconvenient times.

"Well im just associated with your husband because we both work for the same industry." nodding your head you couldn't help but feel relieved when the elevator doors finally opened on your floor.

"I can take him from here." reaching for Sumire the man just backed up a bit.

"Where's your room? I can take him there," he said. You sighed in defeat as you stepped out of the elevator. Walking down the hallway towards your hotel room, you couldn't help but feel frustrated with Sukuna's constant presence. You knew he was only trying to help, but having him follow you everywhere was starting to become suffocating.

You could also tell that he was most definitely checking you out as you walked towards your room. Where was satoru when you needed him.

"So how long have you been married for?" Sighing, you shook your head, feeling the weight of your failing marriage. Finally getting to your room, you opened your purse to try and find the keys, hoping to escape the tension and disappointment that had been plaguing your relationship.

"Just a few years," you replied, finally grabbing your keys and unlocking the door. You turned around to face the pink haired man, smiling with gratitude. "Thank you so much for your help. Please come in and put him in the bed."

He gently put sumire down on the bed, straightening him self he cracked his knuckles before walking back out. You followed him planning on thanking him before he left. As you followed him, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his help and wanted to thank him before he left. However, you also couldn't help but notice the slight tension in his knuckles as he walked, perhaps a sign of the physical strain he had endured while carrying Sumire to the bed. You made a mental note to check on him later and offer your gratitude for his assistance.

As Sukuna stood by your side, you silently closed the door behind you, leaving only the two of you outside in the hallway. Turning to Sukuna, you couldn't help but smile and say, "Thank you for carrying my son all this way."

"I'm just happy to help," Sukuna replied with a smile, "Your son is a great kid." You nodded, grateful for Sukuna's assistance in carrying your sleeping child out of the elevator.

Sukuna couldn't help but lean closer, and as he did, you caught a whiff of his strong, expensive cologne. Your heart raced, wondering if he was hitting on you. But as you glanced to the side, you noticed someone standing by you.

"Leave her alone," Toji stood in front of you, pushing Sukuna away. Sukuna groaned in disappointment, "Toji, nice to see you too." The tension between the two of them was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for Toji's intervention.

"What are you doing here?" you said in a low voice, toji stared at sukuna. Not paying attention to you as he was trying to get sukuna to leave. "Come on man, I can't talk to her?" Toji rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by Sukuna's presence. You couldn't help but feel caught in the middle of their argument.

With a sigh, Sukuna made his way out of the hallway, leaving you and Toji alone. Surprisingly, the tension that had filled the air seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm and understanding between the two of you. It was as if Sukuna's departure lifted a weight off your shoulders, allowing you to fully relax in Toji's presence. The atmosphere had changed into something more peaceful, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of tranquility.

"You followed me?" Confused you stared at him

"Yes, I did. I was worried about you," Toji replied with a concerned expression. "I saw you walk out alone and I couldn't just let you go without making sure you were okay." He squeezed your arm gently, his eyes full of worry. "Are you alright?"

Nodding your head you couldnt help but see that Toji's chest was going up n down fast. He had sweat beats forming on his forehead most likely meaning he sprinted here. "Did you run all the way here?"

Nodding your head, you couldn't help but notice that Toji's chest was rising and falling rapidly. Sweat beads were forming on his forehead, most likely meaning he had sprinted here. "Did you run all the way here?" you asked, concerned for his well-being. Toji smiled and nodded, "Yeah, I wanted to make sure I got here in time to see you." You couldn't help but feel touched by his dedication and effort.

Toji was just staring, taking in your facial features. He couldn't help but admire your features, from the curve of your lips to the sparkle in your eyes. Every detail seemed to captivate him, leaving him in awe of your beauty. But as he gazed at you, he couldn't help but wonder, what was your secret? How could someone be so effortlessly and naturally stunning?

He leaned in, gently cupping your cheek in his hand. His intense gaze held yours, making you feel weak in the knees. You could feel your cheeks heat up and your body tense as his hand caressed your skin. The electricity between you was palpable, and you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in your stomach. Maybe it was time for you to move on and find someone who actually cares about you. Someone who would treat you with love, respect, and kindness. You deserve to be with someone who values you and makes you feel appreciated.

You put your hand behind his head and pulled him closer, your lips inching towards each other. Maybe Toji was that someone, the one who could treat you with love and kindness, unlike the others who had only caused you pain and heartache. As you leaned in for a kiss, you couldn't help but hope that this could be the start of something real and beautiful. The fear of getting hurt once more overwhelmed you, causing you to hesitate and pull away from his soft lips. Memories of past heartbreaks and betrayals flooded your mind, making it difficult to fully embrace the present moment. You couldn't help but question his intentions and whether or not you were making the right decision by allowing him to kiss you.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his face inches from yours. You could see the hunger in his eyes as he gazed at you.

Feeling a rush of desire, you leaned in closer to him, allowing your lips to brush against his. "Nothing," you whispered, before closing the gap between you and giving into the intense chemistry between the two of you. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn't resist the temptation any longer.

As his hand moved from your cheek to your waist, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. His touch was gentle yet possessive, and you couldn't resist the urge to lean into him. He hesitated for a moment, but then his hand slipped under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers traced along your bare skin. The butterflies in your stomach only intensified, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what was to come.

You could feel the coolness of his fingers against your skin and you flinched, but at the same time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. Toji's gentle touch allowed your mouth to open just slightly, and Toji took that as an invitation, eagerly pushing his tongue into your mouth. The pleasure was intoxicating and you found yourself moaning in response, losing yourself in the moment.

You knew this was wrong, making out in the hall of your hotel. Anyone could come in at the moment and see you making out with Toji. But for some reason, it sparked excitement in you - the thrill of getting caught reminded you of your teenage years when you would sneak around with him at parties. It was a reminder of the carefree and rebellious nature of youth, and you couldn't help but indulge in the moment. However, you also knew that this behavior was irresponsible and could have consequences, but the temptation was too strong to resist.

"Mm, Toji..." Feeling his hand slide up, you felt a rush of excitement as he reached your breasts. Stopping for a brief moment to ask for your consent, he said, "Can I?" You didn't even have to tell him, you just grabbed him and pulled him into another passionate kiss. Taking that as a yes, he began to gently fondle and caress your breasts, sending shivers of pleasure throughout your body.

It had been a while since someone had made out with you, but it was clear that Toji needed you. Despite being with Satoru most of your life, you had never experienced a makeout session this passionate before. Satoru's kisses were always rough, but Toji's were on another level. They were gentle, yet somehow still intense and rough at the same time. It was as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"We should stop," you said, looking away from him to see if anyone had passed by the hall. "Yeah, we should," but before you could say anything, he squeezed your breast, causing you to look at him. He laughed in a playful manner before kissing you one last time.

You rolled your eyes at him before looking at him with confusion. "Where's Megumi?" you asked. "He's at your sister's house," he replied. "I came here as fast as I could, so I asked if she could watch him."

"Are you serious? you left your soon with a bunch of strangers." you shook your head in disapproval.

"Let's go get him, I need to talk to my sister either way," you hesitently said. Turning around to get your keys out of your purse, you opened your hotel room, with Toji following behind you.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as you watched your son sleeping peacefully. You knew you had to wake him up, but seeing him so content made you hesitate. You couldn't bear to disturb his peaceful slumber, but you also knew you had to stick to the schedule. You gently shook him awake, hoping he wouldn't be too grumpy about it.

"Come on, baby, wake up." You said in a soft tone, gently trying to rouse your child from their slumber.

Sumire awoke from a deep sleep, confused and disoriented as he found himself in a hotel room. He couldn't remember how he got there, but he was suddenly filled with joy when he saw you, his mother, standing by his bedside. "Mommy!" he exclaimed excitedly, relieved to see a familiar face.

Toji stood next to you as you gently picked up your son. "Hey, let me take him for you." You silently thanked him before handing Sumire to him. Without hesitation, Sumire wrapped his tiny hands around Toji's neck and buried his face in the warmth of his embrace. You couldn't help but smile at the sweet bond forming between him and your and son.

As you walked out, you made sure to carefully lock the door behind you before heading to the elevator. Once you reached the lobby, you made your way out to the parking lot, grateful for the car your sister had rented for you. You promised yourself to thank her again when you saw her.

"Can you drive? I want to sit with Sumire," you asked. Toji simply nodded and got into the car. You carefully picked up your son and positioned him comfortably on top of you, holding him tight. You quickly checked your phone to see if you got any messages from when you left.

3 messages from "Sister" 2 messages from "My love ♡" 5 messages from "Toji Zen'in"

Confused as to why you still had Satoru as "My love" you clicked on his contact. Quickly changing it back to "ex-husband." Curious on what he texted you clicked on his message.

Y/N please call me when you see this. Please tell me if you got safe with sumire if you can.

You scoffed seeing his message. You were filled with anger and resentment upon receiving his message. 'How dare he try to act like a caring father now? He should have thought about the consequences of his actions when he decided to cheat and get another girl pregnant.' It was too late for him to try and make amends now.

You hated him so much. You couldn't believe how different Sumire was from his father. His kind and gentle nature was a stark contrast to the man you despised so much. It was almost hard to believe they were related.

"So we get megumi, I talk to my sister and we leave, Okay?" You said.

"That sounds good," Toji said, placing a hand on your thigh before carelessly rubbing it. You realized he was driving with one hand and for some reason it made him look immensely attractive. His confident and nonchalant demeanor while driving added to his charm and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. The way his hand rested on your thigh sent shivers down your spine, making you want him even more.

Toji had a way of making you feel youthful, despite the small age difference between the two of you. Although he was only two years older, being around him made you feel more energized and alive. He had a contagious energy that could make anyone feel young and carefree.

"Toji?" Seeing him turn to look at you, you took in his features. His sharp jawline, dark hair, and piercing dark green eyes took your breath away. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach every time you looked at him. It was no wonder he was the most popular guy in school.

Everyone wanted Toji, even your sister had a major crush on him. She was a freshman when he was a senior. Little did she know you were lucky enough to make out with him the day before he graduated.

"Do you still remember how Highschool was?" With a squeeze on your thigh he began to think.

"Hmm, high school was quite boring actually," he said with a sigh. "Well, except for the fact that I could see you during passing periods," he added with a sly wink in your direction.

"You're dumb." You said, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

"I'm being completely honest with you. I had strong feelings for you, but I was told that you were in a serious relationship with Satoru, so I didn't want to interfere or make things complicated."

You smiled knowing Toji always thought of you in a romantic way, but you also couldn't help but wonder what life would have been like if you had married him instead of Satoru. Would things have been easier or more fulfilling? Would you have avoided the heartbreak and struggles you faced with Satoru?

"We're here," he said, parking the car outside the house. As the music and chatter from outside filled the car, you felt hesitant and unsure if you should actually go in.

"Here, I'll carry Sumire." He said, gently picking up your son and holding him in his arms. You were still getting out of the car, and Toji extended his hand to help you. You gratefully accepted it, feeling a sense of warmth and connection as your fingers interlocked. Together you walked inside the house.

Upon opening the door, you were greeted by Jiyuu, who appeared to have been crying. "Couldn't my day get any better." She said before shoulder checking you and walking out the door. You were in disbelief, she really just said that in front of you. Scoffing you continued to walk towards the patio.

Satoru was frustrated, Jiyuu had ran out and he had to go after her. He began walking to where she had left before stopping in his tracks and seeing you. Toji was holding his son, his baby. He looked at Toji in disgust before his eyes followed to you, seeing that you were holding hands with Toji he chuckled.

Satoru couldn't believe it. After all the trouble Jiyuu had caused, she had just run off and left him to deal with the consequences. And now, to make matters worse, he saw that you were here with Toji, holding hands with him. Satoru couldn't help but feel disgusted and betrayed by both of you. He had always hated Toji, but now it seemed that you were with him. He stood there, unsure of what to do or say next.

All he could do was just walk past you, pretend like he didnt care that you were with another man. He had priorities now, and that was to catch his pregnant lover who had just ran out.

"What a scum." you said

As you walked outside, you noticed a group of people gathered and chatting. Your eyes zeroed in on your sister's fiance, who seemed to be the center of attention. You quickly made your way over.

"Y/N, I'm glad you're safe," he said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Where's Marie?" you asked, scanning the room for any sign of her. However, she was nowhere in sight. You wondered where she could have gone off to and if everything was okay.

"She's in her room, all the bridesmaids are in there," he said, gesturing towards the door before turning to greet Toji and your son.

Looking at Toji, he had just smiled at you and reassured you that it was okay to leave. "It's fine, go ahead. I'll take care of Megumi." His kind gesture put you at ease and you were grateful for his understanding.

You walked to your sister's room, knocking on the door before you were greeted by Utahime. She looked at you with a shocked expression, practically jumping on you. "Y/N! I'm so glad you're okay!" she exclaimed.

Walking inside, you saw all of your friends gathered in the room, with your sister on the bed crying. You immediately felt guilty, knowing that your actions had caused this emotional outburst. Without hesitation, you walked over to her and embraced her in a hug, apologizing for the scene you had made.

"I'm so sorry Marie, I didn't mean to storm off like that," you apologized to your sister, feeling guilty for your outburst. You knew that your sister deserved an explanation for your behavior and you were ready to give her one.

She reached out and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You've been through a lot, but you're here now and that's all that matters," she reassured you with a warm smile. "And I completely understand if you don't want to be a part of my wedding anymore. I love you and everything you have done for me, but I want you to be happy and comfortable with your role in the wedding." You quickly cut her off, reassuring her that her feelings and opinions are important to you.

"Absolutely not, I'm staying for this wedding. Are you kidding me? I wouldn't miss it for anything," you said, hugging her again. You had been looking forward to this special occasion for months, and there was no way you were going to miss it. The thought of not being there to celebrate with your baby sister and witness her happiness was out of the question.

She smiled at you, happy that you were going to be in her wedding. "And as for Jiyuu i want her there too." you said, you're sister looked at you confused.

"Are you sure?" she asked again, concern evident in her voice. "I can take her off if you want," she reassured you, gently squeezing your hand. You could tell she genuinely cared about your well-being and wanted to make sure you were comfortable with the situation.

"No, it's fine, I have to go." you reassured your sister before getting up from the bed and giving her one last hug. "I'll be safe, don't worry. And I'll definitely text you." Your sister smiled and nodded before letting you leave the room. As you walked outside, you saw that Toji was getting along well with your sister's fiancé.

You walked towards him and gently took Megumi from his grasp, feeling grateful for his innocent and loving nature. "Hello, my sweet baby," you cooed in a soft, high-pitched voice. His eyes lit up with excitement and he wrapped his tiny hands around your neck, his pure and genuine love bringing a smile to your face.

"Well we should get going, thank you for everything." You thanked him before grabbing Toji's hand and walking towards the entrance.

Toji was walking with Sumire holding his tiny hand while you carried Megumi. You always wanted another kid. Just so Sumire wouldn't be alone. But having another child was basically impossible since his father was no longer in the picture.

However, as the wedding drew closer, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread and sadness. Going home also meant finalizing your divorce and leaving behind the life you once knew. The impending changes and uncertainty made it difficult to truly enjoy the vacation.

Taglist; @allofffmypeaches @wo-ming-bai @nerdiel-has-no-braincells@creolequeen11210 @doughnuts-eater @narutosagemode@lilith412426 @meojjjsworld @pandoraium @dcvilxswish @cloudsinthecosmos

[velarisdusk]

Shattered

Hockey AU

Series Masterlist Part 3 <- ✦.⁺.✦.⁺.✦ -> Part 5 - Burning Desire

word count: 8k content: [ explicit sexual content, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, praise, degredation, dominance/submission, biting, group almost sex?, 5 guys but it isn't a gangbang sorry | infidelity, alcohol mention, strong language, emotional conflict, verbal conflict] summary: At a lavish party you're reluctantly attending on behalf of your boyfriend, who's occupied with a pressing PR matter, temptation proves too alluring to resist. A heated encounter with several teammates in a secluded room is quickly shattered, forcing you to face the consequences of your actions. author's note: :)

The invitation had arrived in a gold-embossed envelope, signaling the kind of wealth and excess only a notorious socialite like Ianthe could muster. When the team saw the invite, their collective groan was almost comical.

“Oh, come on,” Azriel had grumbled, tossing the invitation onto the table. “Does she really expect us to show up to one of these again?”

“You know how she is,” Rhysand had replied with a roll of his eyes. “She’ll throw a fit if we don’t, and then all of her fans’ll spam our comments.”

Despite their reluctance, Cassian had insisted on attending. “It’s good PR,” he had said with a smirk. “Sadly, I can’t make it. I’ve got a prior engagement.”

Eris had raised an eyebrow. “What engagement?”

“A press event,” Cassian had replied smoothly. “To address your… inappropriate use of the team’s Twitter and make clear that the rest of us had nothing to do with it.”

Eris had looked defensive. “How was I supposed to know it would blow up like that?”

Cassian had stifled a chuckle. “Yeah, how would you have known? The Vipers tweeting, ‘Calling all baddies with fat asses, slide into my DMs if you want a real man tonight,’ and then following it up by replying to half of them with ‘ayo shawtay’—with five y’s—‘hit me up.’ Not unusual at all.” He paused, letting the absurdity of the situation sink in. Laughter bubbled up around the room, the tension breaking as Cassian continued, “Some outlets reported it as ‘disturbing,’ so now I’m on damage control. Important stuff. You’ll manage without me.”

So, you found yourself amidst a sea of opulence, far removed from your usual comfort. The penthouse was alive with celebrities, influencers, and high-profile guests. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a warm glow, casting reflections off designer clothes and extravagant jewelry. Conversations buzzed around you, a mix of superficial small talk and name-dropping that made you feel even more out of place.

Ianthe had greeted you with an overly enthusiastic hug, her perfume almost overwhelming. “Oh my goodness, (y/n)! It’s been ages since I’ve seen you and Cassian!” she exclaimed, her voice loud and piercing. She wore a shimmering gold gown, the fabric hugging her every curve and sparkling under the dim lights. “Where is he?”

“Babe, you should go. Someone needs to make sure they don’t embarrass themselves, and since I can’t, you’re the only one I trust to handle it,” he had said, brushing a stray bit of hair behind your ear. “Besides, Ianthe will make it a whole thing if I don’t show up or at least send someone in my place. I’ve got that press thing to handle.”

“Do I really have to go?” you had asked, frowning. “I don’t know anyone there well enough to enjoy myself.”

Cassian had sighed, wrapping his arms around you. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’ll be over before you know it. Plus, the guys’ll be there. Just stay for a bit, make an appearance, and then you can leave. Ianthe will appreciate it, and so will the team.”

You had huffed, certain they’d appreciate your presence. “Fine, but you owe me.”

He had laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Deal. I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“He couldn’t make it,” you said with a forced smile, smoothing down the fabric of your elegant but understated dress. “But he insisted I come in his place.”

Ianthe’s laugh had been high and tinkling, grating on your nerves. “Of course he did! Well, you’re here now, so make yourself at home! Enjoy the party!” She flitted off to greet another guest, leaving you feeling even more adrift.

Despite her warm greeting, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. As the night wore on, you tried to mingle, but the crowd was overwhelming. You watched the guys make small talk in their circles, but the noise and the crowd became suffocating. Seeking refuge, you slipped away from the chaos, your steps quickening as you wandered through Ianthe’s penthouse.

The further you ventured from the bustling noise, the more the laughter and music faded into a distant murmur. You eventually discovered a quiet hallway upstairs, offering a welcome escape from the revelry below. Following the corridor, you stumbled upon a study, its shelves lined with immaculate rows of books, each seeming more decorative than practical. You stood in the center of the room, the serene atmosphere wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The soft glow of a nearby lamp cast gentle shadows on the walls, and the muffled sounds from the party below felt like a world away. It was a rare moment of peace, a chance to collect your thoughts and find solace in the stillness of the room.

Your gaze drifted around the dim room, but your thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in a web of regret. Cassian's face flashed in your mind, a painful reminder of the trust you had shattered. The memories of what had transpired were vivid: stolen moments in the locker room with Azriel and Rhysand, the rooftop terrace with Helion and Tarquin. It had all started with light touches and innocent flirtations, things Cassian tolerated, but you had crossed a line. The reality of your actions pressed heavily on you, each encounter a mark against your integrity. Every touch from Tarquin, every whispered promise from Helion, only served to deepen your regret. It wasn’t just the physical betrayals that stung but the realization that you had allowed things to spiral out of control. What had driven you to push the boundaries so far? Was it the thrill of the forbidden, the chase of something new, or simply a frantic attempt to fill a void you hadn’t fully acknowledged before? The ache in your chest grew with each passing moment, a constant reminder of the damage you had done.

The sudden rush of music and laughter from the party downstairs broke the silence, flooding into the study as the door creaked open. You turned, startled, and saw Rhysand and Tarquin step into the room. Rhysand’s gaze was sharp, a mixture of curiosity and something else flickering in his eyes. Tarquin’s expression was equally intrigued, his attention immediately drawn to you.

“What brings you up here, alone, with all the fun downstairs?” Rhysand’s voice was smooth, almost curious, but there was an undercurrent of something more in his gaze. 

“I needed a break from all the noise,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Tarquin leaned casually against the doorframe, amusement evident in his eyes. “Ianthe does have a flair for the dramatic, doesn’t she?” His tone was light, almost playful.

Rhysand nodded, his expression almost sympathetic, but his eyes never left yours. “Must be hard without Cassian here.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension in the room. “Yeah, it’s... different.”

Rhysand chuckled softly. “Tarquin and I were just chatting, and your name came up.” He stepped closer and brushed a hand down his sleeve, as if casually dismissing any pretense. “He mentioned something interesting about you.”

He took a final step, closing the distance between you. His presence was that of danger and allure. “So, I told him something interesting in return.” His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “And, well,” he continued, his lips curling into a predatory smile, “we just had to share what we learned with Azriel and Helion.”

As if on cue, the door opened again — Tarquin’s doing, you noticed — and Azriel and Helion walked in. Helion’s grin widened as he sauntered over with an easy, confident stride. “When they came over, we were just having a little chat about you,” he remarked, his tone light and teasing. But there was something in the way his gaze lingered on you, something that hinted at a deeper, more dangerous amusement.

Azriel’s sharp gaze lingered on you. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice the way you’ve been acting?” His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was a subtle edge to it as if he were piecing together a puzzle you hadn’t meant for them to solve. It wasn’t that you were intentionally hiding anything; it just seemed to happen that way. He paused just a few steps away, his presence quietly commanding.

Tarquin idly traced his fingers along the edge of a nearby bookshelf, his gaze drifting back to you with a casual curiosity. “We’ve noticed you’ve slipping away whenever one of us gets too close. Almost like you’re avoiding something... or someone.” His voice was light, but it was clear he was feigning ignorance.

Rhysand’s voice dripped with mock indignation. “You’re even avoiding eye contact with us. How do you think that makes us feel?” His gaze was intense, holding you in place. 

The room was charged with tension as they closed in on you, their questions relentless. You shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the right words amidst your rising anxiety. “Look, it’s not that simple,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’ve just been... overwhelmed.”

Azriel’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. “Overwhelmed, huh?” His voice was soft, but it carried a weight that made your heart race. He moved around you with a quiet, deliberate grace, his hand settling on your shoulder with a firm yet almost tender grip. “You know, running from one fuck to another isn’t exactly a solution.” His fingers trailed slowly up your arm, the touch deceptively gentle, but there was no mistaking the intent behind it.

Helion closed the distance with a casual, almost lazy grace, his smile never fading. “Avoiding us won’t make the mess you’ve made disappear,” he teased, his voice laced with playful mockery. His hand brushed over your shoulder lightly. “Now that you’re here, though, maybe we can have a bit of fun sorting it out.”

Rhysand’s voice softened as he leaned in, his expression mockingly sympathetic. “So, (y/n), was it worth it? Playing these games, sneaking around? Did it give you what you needed?” His hand brushed against your jaw, a gentle touch that belied the weight of his words.

“Answer him, (y/n),” Tarquin chimed in, his voice nonchalant as he flipped through a book without really looking at it. “We’re all ears.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat of their scrutiny. “I... I just didn’t know how to handle everything,” you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady. “It was a mess, and I didn’t think it through.”

You met each of their eyes, trying to make them understand despite the teasing edge of their demeanor. “But you know what?” you added, a spark of defiance igniting in your eyes. “It takes more than one person to fuck. If you’re going to judge me, take a look at yourselves. You’re supposed to be his friends, but you’re betraying him just as much as I am. Don’t act like I’m the only one to blame.”

Azriel’s brows rose in amusement, clearly entertained. With his lips trailing the side of your neck, he murmured, “She’s got a point, doesn’t she? We’ve all played our parts in this.” You shivered at the sensation.

Tarquin closed the book with a snap and shelved it, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, if we’re all to blame, maybe we’ve been too harsh,” he drawled, standing beside Rhysand, finally joining you all.

Helion’s fingers began a slow, deliberate trail along your waist, his touch possessive. He let his fingertips graze the fabric of your dress, eyes glinting with dark amusement. “Let us make it up to you?” When you didn’t respond, he added, “I’m surprised Cassian let you out in something that makes you look so… delicious,” he purred, his voice low and sultry.

You shot him a look. “Cass doesn’t ‘let’ me do anything. I do what I please, and he’s secure enough not to care.”

Helion’s smirk widened as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Misplaced security, then,” he murmured, his tone dripping with mockery and desire.

Azriel watched the exchange with a predatory gleam. He moved his hands to your hips, the touch light but purposeful as he pulled you back into him. “Maybe he should be more worried about how easily you slip away,” he suggested, his voice a dangerous whisper. Tarquin stepped closer, his gaze fixated on you as he reached out to run his fingers along your exposed neckline. A chill ran up your spine.

Without warning, Helion’s hands slid from your waist to your hips, resting on top of Azriel’s, pulling himself closer. He leaned down for a heated kiss, his lips insistent and demanding. As his kiss deepened, Azriel ground himself against your ass, groans of pleasure from both of you filled the relatively quiet study. 

Tarquin leaned in next, his lips finding your neck. Rhysand, standing on your other side now, placed a hand on your shoulder, letting his lips graze your ear before trailing down to your jawline. Azriel’s hands moved from under Helion’s to your ass, grabbing and squeezing and pinching and spreading. “Oh, God,” you gasped breathlessly into the kiss, your voice trembling as you pressed your chest against Helion. “I can’t… I can’t handle this.” 

But his kiss only grew more fervent, his tongue exploring yours as he murmured against your lips, “You’re doing just fine, you’ve handled much more.”

With trembling hands, you reached down, your fingers deftly finding their way to the two men at your sides. Your fingers brushed against the smooth, warm fabric, feeling the outlines of their arousal. Tarquin's pants were dark navy, contrasting sharply with the crisp white of his dress shirt, and his belt was a sleek black leather that made the bulge even more pronounced. Rhysand wore a tailored charcoal suit, the fabric fitting him perfectly, showing off his powerful frame. 

As you palmed them through their pants, you couldn’t help but marvel at how incredibly sexy they all looked. Helion’s suit was a rich, deep burgundy, the color enhancing the warmth of his skin and exuding an air of refined elegance. The fabric shimmered subtly under the soft lighting, and the tailored lines of his jacket accentuated his every movement, making him look irresistibly captivating.

Though Azriel was behind you, you knew he wore a classic charcoal-grey suit, the dark color highlighting his powerful build. The suit’s fitted cut accentuated his broad shoulders and slim waist. Calling it elegance, you thought, would not do him justice.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your voice a ragged whisper as you felt the heat and hardness of their cocks through the fabric. “You all look so… fucking hot, it’s driving me crazy.”

Azriel groaned quietly behind you, his grip on your ass tightening as he hissed, “That’s what we wanted to hear. Keep talking, angel, tell us how much you’re enjoying it.”

Your breaths came faster, each one a ragged gasp as the intensity built. “I... I can’t,” you moaned against Helion’s lips, your voice trembling. “It feels so good, it’s too much...” You turned your head to lock your lips with Rhysand, the hand you used to please him now tangling in his hair. “You’re all so fucking perfect,” you breathed, your words spilling out in a torrent of need.

Tarquin bit down on your neck, making the skin there tingle in pleasure and pain. You gasped, your voice breathless. “I want all of you, I need every bit of this... fucking addicted.” Azriel placed kisses against the back of your neck, and your words became a fervent plea. “Please don’t stop, I need more, I need all of you.” You were overwhelmed, your mind a haze of need and desire. “Just keep going, don’t stop... I’m yours, just take me, use me,” you begged, your voice raw with need.

“Well, this is a scene,” a smug voice cut through the charged atmosphere. The room went silent as every head turned toward the door.

“Seems like you’ve all been holding out on me,” Eris drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe. His eyes swept over the room with a mixture of amusement and hunger. “Didn’t realize you were all getting so… wrapped up in each other tonight.” His gaze lingered on you with a dark, knowing smile. “Seems I’ve arrived just in time.”

The tension in the room shifted, grew heavier with Eris’s presence. Your heart was racing, caught between the intense pleasure still pulsing through you and the fresh wave of anxiety his scrutiny brought. The others froze momentarily, their expressions a mix of shock and discomfort.

Helion, having maintained his composure, tilted his head with a nonchalant grin. “Eris, what a surprise. Care to join?”

Eris’s grin widened as he stepped further into the room. “I’d be delighted,” he said smoothly, his gaze never leaving you. “I’m disappointed. I’ve made it very clear how much I want you. So tell me,” he murmured, his voice gaining a roguish tone as he continued, “if Cassian wasn’t satisfying you, why didn’t you come to me first, baby? You know I would’ve fucked you so much better.”

As he closed the distance, you eyed him with apprehension. Eris’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your flushed skin and the desperate look in your eyes. “If I can’t have the privilege of being the first in this room to fuck you, I’ll just have to be the best, won’t I?” 

With that, Eris pushed his way through Rhysand and Helion, his presence commanding and overpowering. His fingers brushed against your lips as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “And trust me,” he said, his voice brimming with a fierce intensity, “I plan to make up for every second of those three years. Think you can take that?” His tone was a blend of seductive confidence and genuine desire.

Before you could respond, Eris’s lips were on yours, his kiss wild and demanding. His hands tangled in your meticulously styled hair, pulling you closer as his tongue explored your mouth with an urgency that matched his frustration. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts—how wrong this felt, knowing Cassian hated Eris with a passion. They’d seemed almost friendly at the club, though. Maybe they’d become friends after that night. Which was worse? But as Eris's lips moved against yours, you couldn't help it. You found yourself clinging to him, craving more.

Rhysand’s hands roamed with deliberate slowness, slipping beneath your dress to explore the bare skin of your thighs. Each caress sparked waves of pleasure that had you gasping. His lips found your neck, tracing heated, lingering kisses that made you moan in response.

Helion’s hands roamed over your front and sides, brushing the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your dress. His lips followed a path from your shoulder down your arm, leaving a trail of kisses that made you whimper with every touch. His touch was both teasing and possessive, a stark contrast to the yearning you felt.

Behind you, Azriel's hips pressed firmly against you, lifting your dress to reveal the lacy, barely-there underwear you wore. His breath was hot and intense against your skin, his kisses on the back of your neck growing more insistent. Tarquin, on your left, knelt down, his lips placing open-mouthed kisses up your smooth leg, his hands gripping your thigh with relentless, demanding pressure.

The room was soon filled with the symphony of your moans, the fervent kisses, and the hands exploring every inch of your body. The line between pleasure and chaos blurred as their combined touches drove you to the brink of madness.

Eris pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with an intense desire and a wicked glint. “This dress... it’s in my way,” he growled, his voice rough with urgency. “It needs to go.”

Azriel swiftly undid the zip, and without a second thought, Eris grabbed the hem of your dress and tore it up and over your head, tossing it aside. The cool air of the study hit your exposed skin, making you press closer into Eris's arms, now completely vulnerable.

“God, fucking look at you,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction as his hands roamed over your newly exposed skin. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hands moved with renewed fervor over your body, exploring every contour.

Rhysand, Azriel, Helion, and Tarquin took full advantage of the moment, their hands and lips everywhere, driving you to the edge with their combined touches. Your neck, your chest, your arms and legs, your ass; you couldn’t keep track of who was where anymore.

The room was filled with the sounds of your breathless moans and their low, appreciative growls and hums. Every nerve in your body was alight with sensation, the heat and intensity of their touches washing over you completely.

Eris’s hands moved to your breasts, which had been freed from your bra at some point, kneading and teasing them while his mouth claimed yours with a wild intensity. His lips traveled down to your neck, and your face flushed with embarrassment as you realized you were left in nothing but your panties and heels. The remaining fabric clung to you, highlighting your vulnerability amid their consuming attention.

“Go ahead and say those pretty words for me again,” he growled against your lips, “like you were when I came in. Let me hear you, baby.”

“I want it so bad,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need. “I need it, I’m begging you, please.”

“Azriel, fucking move,” Eris commanded with a low, vicious growl that was unlike anything you’d heard from any of them. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, your back was shoved against a bookshelf behind you, Eris’s hand cradling the back of your head. The sensation of the others being ripped away left you feeling startlingly exposed, emptiness washing over you.

Eris’s eyes pierced into yours, hunger and dominance in his gaze. His hand moved from the back of your head to the front of your neck, his grip surprisingly gentle, almost like a caress. “I want to hear you say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. He placed his other hand on your bare waist, squeezing. “Tell us how much you want it. Tell us how badly you need to be fucked by all of us.”

Your breaths came out in ragged pants, your body trembling with anticipation and need. “I want it,” you repeated, your voice cracking with desperation. “I need it… Please.”

Eris’s lips curved into a dark, satisfied smile as he pressed his body against yours, the heat and hardness of him making you moan. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. 

The heat in the room surged as Eris's words hung in the air, his confidence palpable. The intensity of the situation seemed to reach new heights with his arrival. His fingers traced your lips, and you parted them slightly with a quiet exhale. The way he looked at you, with that dark, predatory glint in his eyes, made you feel like a prey caught in the snare of a hunter.

Rhysand and Helion exchanged glances, the challenge in Eris's demeanor stirring a competitive edge among them. It wasn’t until now that you realized Azriel still had a hand on your hip, his touch now more possessive, as if he were staking his claim. Tarquin’s eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into a smirk as he observed the scene unfolding.

Eris, now firmly in your space, didn’t wait for a response. His hands moved with a practiced ease, his grip on your jaw guiding you to face him fully. His eyes were dark, almost hypnotic, as they bore into yours. “Tell me,” he said, his voice low and urgent, “what do you need right now? Let me hear it.”

His warmth was enveloping, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin. Every touch seemed to heighten your awareness of just how far you'd let things go, and yet, you found yourself unable to pull away.

“I need...” you began, your voice trembling with desire and apprehension. You tried to glance at the men in the room, at Azriel, but Eris gave your head a firm but controlled shake, forcing your attention back to him. “I need all of you… All of you, Eris.”

His smirk widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He took your hand, which lay limp at your side, guiding it to his abdomen and laying his hand over yours. You could feel every muscle under his dress shirt. “Good,” he murmured. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He then turned his gaze towards Azriel, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You heard her,” Eris said, his tone brooking no argument. “Take a break. She’s mine now.”

The room seemed to pulse with energy when Eris gently spun you around by that same hand, his presence a commanding force as he instructed you to place your hands against the large oak bookshelf. His hands slid down slowly, along your sides, caressing your hips and waist with a deliberate, almost reverent touch. You felt his lightly calloused fingers grazing your skin, igniting a fire that made you ache with need.

The rest of the group watched with fascination and anticipation, their eyes never leaving you. The room was charged with competition and desire that seemed to fuel the intensity of the moment. As Eris knelt behind you, his touch grew more demanding. His hands roamed possessively, squeezing the curve of your waist, tracing the swell of your hips, and gripping your thighs with a fierce intensity. Every touch ignited a fire within you that made you surrender completely to him. With your hips pushed out and your back arched, you let out a moan that sent a jolt of arousal through the room, leaving the others subtly adjusting themselves as their growing need strained against their clothes.

When he bit down on your ass, the sound pulled from you fell somewhere between desperate and strained. Just when you were on the verge of demanding — not begging for — more, Eris pulled the lace of your underwear aside and teased a finger through your arousal. 

“Look at how nice and ready they got you for me,” he murmured, more to himself than anything. After lining two fingers up to your entrance, he continued. “Thank them for me, baby?”

Though you stumbled over your words trying to steady your breaths, you managed a quiet “thank you” as he eased his fingers into you with an aching slowness. The groan he let out had you squeezing around them. Eris's fingers moved with a slow, tantalizing rhythm that left no room for haste. Each caress was meticulously timed, creating a sensation that felt intensely intimate yet firmly under his control. His touch was not just about pleasure but also about power, each stroke conveying his dominance. 

Eris looked around the room, fingers still pumping slowly in and out, his gaze meeting the eyes of his teammates who watched with rapt attention. He smirked, fully aware of the effect this display had on them. With a casual but commanding tone, he addressed them without breaking his rhythm. “Sit back and take it in,” he said smoothly, standing back up. “Once I’m done with her, you won’t be seeing her like this again.”

You would’ve glanced around the room to gauge their reactions, curious despite yourself, but Eris didn’t give you the chance. His free hand came up to grasp your chin firmly, turning your head to the right to face him. “Eyes forward, or on me,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, his breath ghosting across your lips as his fingers inside you curled just right, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sharpness of the motion had you gasping, pulling your focus solely to him.

Your lips parted to respond, but instead, another moan escaped as his fingers flexed inside you, sending pleasure radiating out from your core. The slow, deliberate pace had you trembling, every nerve drawn tight as you clung to the edge he was carefully holding you on.

"I..." you started, but the words were swallowed by a sharp intake of breath. "You–" The sentence dissolved into another gasp as his thumb slid over your clit in a slow circle. Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, and you couldn't help the way your hips pushed back against him, seeking more.

Eris's smirk widened, and his grip on your chin shifted, thumb trailing down the column of your throat. "What's that?" he taunted softly. "I didn't quite catch that."

You fought to catch your breath, tried to gather your thoughts, but it was no use.

"You're... taking your time," you managed to murmur, a half-hearted attempt at regaining some ground. But the way your body betrayed you — arching toward his touch, trembling under his fingers — made it clear that he was the one in control. 

Eris hummed, clearly pleased with himself. "And you love it," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, as if it were a secret meant just for you.

Another moan escaped your lips, but you gritted your teeth, trying to stifle it. You felt the weight of the others' stares on your skin, but they didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the feeling of Eris inside you, stretching you, teasing you. The pleasure was too much, and yet somehow not enough. It was a cruel balance that he had perfected.

Eris’ lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, his voice low and velvety. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? I can feel how ready you are, how much you want it. But I’m going to take my time with you, is that okay, baby?”

You couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped your lips, the sound more of frustration than anything else. The way he moved inside you was maddeningly slow, calculated, as if he wanted to draw out every bit of pleasure he could. Your body responded eagerly, hips instinctively pushing back against his hand, craving more, needing more.

Helion’s voice drifted in the background, but you were too lost in those smoldering amber eyes to pay it any mind. “Come on, Eris. Give her something to remember.” Chuckles and murmurs of approval echoed around the room.

Eris chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. “Patience, gentlemen. You’ve all had your turn.” His fingers slid out of you with a slow, deliberate motion, leaving you feeling unbearably empty. 

The hand cradling your face moved to trace a path down your back, over your ass, the touch firm and possessive. He didn’t rush, didn’t give in to the urgency that was building in the room. Instead, he took his time, savoring the feel of your body beneath his hands.

Rhysand’s voice cut through the tension, smooth as silk. “Don’t tease her too much. We want her desperate, but let’s not break her just yet, hm?”

Eris’s grin widened, a wicked glint in his eyes as he turned his attention back to your face. “Oh, I have no intention of breaking her. Just bending her a little.” His fingers found their way back between your legs, brushing against your swollen, sensitive flesh with just enough pressure to make you gasp. “We’ve got all night, after all.”

You were drowning in sensation, every touch, every word pulling you deeper into a state of raw, aching need. The way they watched you, the way they spoke about you as if you were theirs to play with, only made the heat pooling in you grow stronger.

“I… I need it,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, Eris… please.”

Eris’s smirk softened, just a fraction. “Look at you, begging so sweetly,” he murmured, but his eyes held that predatory glint you’d come to recognize. He brushed a thumb over your lower lip and leaned in close, his voice a low, seductive growl. “I want you to show them, baby. Move those pretty hips for me—let them see how badly you need this.”

He paused, letting his words hang in the air, the command settling in. The way he looked at you, his gaze intense and unyielding, made it clear this was no request—it was a demand. “Go on,” he urged, his fingers pressing just a bit more firmly against your aching core. “Show them how much you want it.”

A surge of anticipation coursed through you at his words, the need to satisfy that growing ache overpowering any lingering restraint. You were acutely aware of their gazes on you, the weight of their expectation filling the room. Slowly, you let your hips roll forward, the movement tentative at first, but as Eris’s fingers pressed more firmly against you, a soft moan escaped your lips, urging you to continue. You arched your back slightly, pushing your body back toward him, the desire becoming impossible to ignore.

A low murmur of approval rippled through the room, the men watching you with hunger and admiration. The sensation of Eris’s touch, combined with their heated gazes, sent a thrill through your veins.

“That’s it,” Eris whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Good girl. Keep going.”

You moved with growing confidence, your hips swaying in a slow, deliberate rhythm, designed to show them just how badly you craved them. The room seemed to grow hotter, every brush of his fingers against you intensifying the ache. You were fully aware of how exposed you were, how much you were giving them exactly what they wanted, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself.

Eris’s other hand slid down your back, his touch firm, guiding you to continue. “Do you see this, gentlemen?” he called over his shoulder, his voice thick with pride. “This is what it means to truly want. To be so consumed by need that you’d do anything to be filled.”

A fresh wave of arousal surged through you at his words. The others murmured in agreement, their voices low and appreciative as they watched you move under Eris’s command. And as you continued to grind against him, the heat between your thighs growing more intense with each passing moment, you realized there was no turning back. You were completely at their mercy, and it felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

Eris’s gaze held yours, unwavering and intense as if he could see every thought, every desire running through your mind. The others seemed to fade into the background, their presence still felt, but distant, as Eris commanded your full attention. He slowly removed his hand from between your thighs, and you bit back a whimper of frustration at the loss of contact. The smirk on his lips told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that sent a shiver down your spine. “So eager, so desperate. You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the implications of what he was asking. You could feel the weight of his dominance pressing down on you, making it hard to think clearly. Still, you found yourself nodding, unable to tear your gaze away from his.

Eris’s smirk deepened, his hand reaching for the waistband of his pants. “I knew it,” he said, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction. “You want to be mine, even if it’s just for tonight. You want to feel every inch of me inside you, don’t you?”

A tremor ran through you, the anticipation nearly unbearable as he slowly undid his pants, the sound of the zipper loud in the otherwise silent room. “Yes,” you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

He freed his cock from the confines of his pants, stroking himself slowly as he watched your reaction. “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice a low growl, “how you want it. How you’re going to let me fuck you.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as you tried to find the words. “I want…” you began, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and desire. “I want you to take me, Eris. To make me yours in every way.”

Eris’s eyes darkened with lust, his hand moving faster as he stroked himself, the sight sending another wave of heat through your body. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll still feel me inside you tomorrow. You’ll be so full of me, you won’t be able to think about anything else.”

The way he claimed you with his words as if you were his possession, only stoked the flames of desire within you. You knew you should be ashamed, embarrassed by how easily you were giving in, but all you could feel was the overwhelming need to be consumed by him.

“And when I’m done,” Eris continued, his voice low and dangerous, “you’re going to thank me. You’re going to tell me how much you loved every second of it, how you haven’t been able to stop thinking about my cock.”

“Go on and get dressed for me, baby. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

The words cut through the charged atmosphere like a knife, and every head in the room turned toward the doorway. Cassian stood there, hands resting in the pockets of a suit that fit him perfectly. He stood upright, his posture conveying an unsettling calm. His eyes, though steady, held an intensity that made your stomach twist.

You froze, your heart racing as you tried to pull yourself together. Eris, momentarily taken aback, pulled his hand away from you in a swift motion, his expression caught between surprise and frustration. The men around you were already moving, hastily tucking themselves away. You reached for your clothes, discarded a few feet to your side, hands trembling slightly as you dressed under Cassian’s unwavering gaze. He didn’t move, didn’t hurry you, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. Meanwhile, the others couldn’t seem to settle their eyes on one spot, their gazes flickering restlessly around the room.

As you dressed quickly, your mind spun with fear and a dizzying confusion. Cassian’s gaze was a constant weight on your shoulders, and every movement felt slow and surreal. When you finally made your way toward him, he extended his arm, guiding you toward the door with a firm, steady hand. The steady warmth of his arm beneath your hand was the only thing anchoring you against the whirlwind of your mind. 

You stepped into the hallway, the noise of the party growing louder as you and Cassian descended the stairs. The space felt cold, the walls closing in around you as you moved with a sense of dread. Cassian’s silence was a heavy shroud, his presence almost forbidding. His eyes remained fixed ahead, devoid of any warmth, though his face remained perfectly composed. He gave brief, casual waves and polite nods to those who greeted him, his demeanor impeccably maintained. His silence was almost chilling; the way he pointedly avoided looking at you only heightened your sense of unease.

As you approached the exit, Cassian was stopped by a man who must have been a colleague. They spoke in low tones, most of the words indistinguishable to you through the blood pumping in your ears, but you caught Cassian’s voice cutting through the din with cold clarity. “Seems she’s had one too many espresso martinis tonight,” he said, his tone smooth and effortlessly charming. “We’re heading out.” The words seemed to echo in your ears as you walked alongside him, your arm still looped through his. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on your chest as you tried not to stumble. 

You and Cassian made your way down the sleek marble hallway, the ambient noise of the party fading behind you. The elevator was just a few steps from the penthouse door, and you held tightly to his arm as he guided you. Every movement felt deliberate, his grip firm but impersonal. Waiting for the elevator felt like an eternity, each passing second stretching out and amplifying the anxiety in your stomach.

The elevator ride was a blur of metallic walls and muffled sounds. You stared straight ahead, unable to bring yourself to meet his gaze, each moment stretching into an unbearable silence. When you finally reached the ground floor, the lobby greeted you with its polished elegance. The sound of your footsteps and his seemed to reverberate through the space, each echo amplifying your trepidation. The building’s doorman greeted you with a nod, and Cassian responded with a brief, detached smile. 

As you neared the entrance, Cassian pulled out his phone with his free hand, making a brief call. The minutes dragged on as you stood by the sleek glass doors. Soon after, a black Audi A7 glided up to the curb, its glossy finish gleaming under the streetlights. Cassian had brought out the luxury car tonight, a stark contrast to his usual red F150. The polished finish and the soft purr of the engine seemed to mock you.

Cassian opened the car door for you, his gesture polite and deliberate. You slid into the plush interior, the cool leather seats enveloping you as you settled in. He closed the door behind you with a soft click, then slipped a tip to the valet before making his way around to the driver’s side. With an unreadable expression, he slid behind the wheel, taking his time to adjust himself before pulling away from the curb.

The drive was shrouded in an oppressive silence, the only sounds being the steady hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal. Cassian’s profile was set in a rigid line, the stern set of his jaw betraying none of his inner thoughts. You fidgeted with your hands, trying to make sense of the situation, but every attempt to gauge his mood seemed to lead only to deeper confusion.

Your gaze dropped to your hands in your lap. They were trembling. betraying the turmoil churning inside you. The silence in the car felt suffocating, pressing down on you with each passing second. Your mind raced with frantic questions: Was he angry? Disappointed? Did he already know everything? The more you tried to steady yourself, the more the uncertainty gnawed at you.

You tried to focus on the rhythmic thrum of the engine, the soft vibrations through the leather seat. But even the steady hum seemed to amplify your anxiety, making the silence feel even more oppressive. Each street you passed blurred together, a series of indistinct shapes and shadows. Your thoughts spun in a relentless cycle of worry, and you couldn’t escape the growing dread that was settling heavily in your chest.

Then a new wave of mortification crashed over you. The image of Cassian opening the door, his eyes taking in the sight of you practically naked against the bookshelf, filled your mind. The sheer embarrassment of being caught in such a compromising position—the heels, the underwear pulled aside, leaving you exposed and vulnerable—was almost too much to bear. You had been so caught up in the moment, so lost in the haze of the night, that you hadn't fully processed how degrading it must have seemed. The thought of him seeing you so utterly exposed, presenting yourself like a bitch in heat, was a sharp, humiliating jolt.

You considered what you might say when the time came. Would apologies be enough? Could explanations make any difference? The questions tumbled through your thoughts, each one more unsettling than the last. Now and then, you’d steal a glance at Cassian’s profile, trying to read something—anything—into his stoic expression. But he remained a solid, unyielding presence, leaving you to confront your anxieties alone.

You glanced at the passing street signs, noticing they were not leading toward your apartment. Your brow furrowed in concern as you watched the roads change. Cassian made a sharp turn, and you could no longer ignore the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach.

“Cassian,” you ventured cautiously, your voice barely cutting through the heavy silence, “where are we going?”

He offered no response, his focus straight ahead, his expression inscrutable. The tension in the car grew almost tangible as you fidgeted in your seat, trying to make sense of the unexpected detour. 

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, each intersection and street sign passing by in a blur. The initial confusion of the detour slowly gave way to a creeping sense of recognition. You noticed that while the roads were leading you further from your apartment, they were somewhat familiar. The familiar landmarks began to settle in your mind, and you felt a growing realization.

As the streetlights flickered past, you finally identified a landmark that confirmed your fears. The realization hit you with a jolt, and you swallowed hard, feeling a lump of anxiety form in your throat.

Cassian pulled the car to a smooth stop in front of the familiar house, its warm lights casting a soft glow on the front lawn. You stared at it, stunned, as he unlocked the doors. 

“Cass, please, we need to talk about this,” you said, your voice cracking as you turned to face him. “I know things look bad, but I can explain!” But why should he let you explain? What would you even say?

He glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road ahead, responding with a cold calmness. “There’s nothing to discuss. You’re staying with your mom for a bit.”

The impact of his words hit you hard; this was the first time he had spoken since you left the party. “No, wait,” you pleaded, the tears that had been brimming your eyes finally falling. “Please, just let me explain. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen—”

Cassian cut you off with a firm tone. “I’m not interested in your excuses, (y/n).”

Your hands gripped the seat as you struggled to find the right words. “Cass, please, it wasn’t what it looked like. I was just—”

“Just what?” he cut in, his voice as cold as ever. “Drunk or not, and it seems like you’re not, the situation was clear. Get out.”

You stared at him in shock, your voice trembling. “Please, just listen to me! I’m sorry for everything. I never meant for any of this to happen!”

He gave you a hard look, his face set in stone. “You made your choices. Do us both a favor and fix your hair before you walk in. Wouldn’t want your mom to think her daughter’s a cheap fucking whore.”

The words hit you like a punch, leaving you in stunned silence as he waited for you to get out of the car. You stared at Cassian, your heart aching with each passing second. “Cassian, I’m so sorry. Please believe me, I…” Your voice trailed off. You weren’t getting anywhere.

With a resigned sigh, you reached for the handle and slowly opened the car door. Each movement felt heavy with your defeat. As you stepped out onto the pavement, you cast one last glance at him, the weight of the night’s events settling heavily on your shoulders. Cassian's face remained impassive, his gaze fixed ahead.

You pushed the door shut, and made your way to the front door, the cool night air biting at your exposed skin. The stillness of the quiet neighborhood seemed to press in on you, the pitiful realization of your vulnerability sinking in more with each step.

Standing on the doorstep, you hesitated for a moment, your fingers hovering over the doorbell. The stark contrast between the warm, inviting glow of the house and the cold, dark night around you felt almost surreal. The weight of your earlier actions and Cassian’s harsh words seemed to bear down on you.

Finally, with a resigned breath, you pressed the button on the Ring camera. The chime echoed softly through the night, a jarring reminder of how far you had fallen from the comfort you once took for granted. As you waited, you could only hope that your mother’s response would offer some semblance of solace amid the wreckage of your evening.

[k-zuzulibrary]

스트레이기즈

s.CB, h.HJ, h.JS, l.YB 𖹭 gn!reader

my enemy.

synopsis: they eventually give in after years of hatred, rivalry, and built-up tension only to get caught by another member.

content: changbin, hyunjin, han, felix (seperate) 𖹭 reader, enemies, suggestive/nsfw/18+ (minors do not interact), idk what this is honestly, poor attempt at comedy, reader has gender neutral pronouns and no specified genitalia, gentle brat tamer!cb x brat!reader, mean dom!hj, switch!felix x switch!reader, subby!han x mean-ish dom!reader, bondage, unprotected sex (cb), big dick | blowjob | dubcon penetration | photography (hj), implied feelings | doggy style | penetration (felix), lots of teasing and some pet names in all of them, swearing, not proofread, lowercase intended.

zuzu's note: part 2!!! hope u enjoy. part 1 here.

binnie.

"you need to learn your place," changbin spoke softly, his tone dripping with condescension. he had chased you around his room for quite some time before he finally caught you, and with a swift and experienced motion, he grabbed your wrists and skillfully bound them together behind your back with a length of silk rope. his grip was firm, yet gentle, as he tied the bindings tight against your skin.

what could you have possibly done to make the kind and lovable seo changbin hate you? you were a brat, a nuisance who pushed his buttons and tested his patience. he tried to be patient with you for months, but your bratty behavior was too much to handle. and worst of all, you sent him mixed signals. half of 'i am a brat because i have a crush on you' and the other half being 'i am a brat because i hate you.' years passed and changbin had finally had enough, he decided it was time to do something about it.

with a swift and powerful motion, changbin easily picked you up off the floor, walked to his room, and tossed your form onto his bed, not missing a beat as he quickly locked the door behind him. he looked down at you with a stern expression, his tone firm as he spoke.

"you can't just go around doing what you do." he scolded softly.

you looked up at him, feigning innocence. "doing what i do?" you repeated his words, genuienly confused. "y'know, changbin, if you want me to come up with a great comeback you're gonna hafta give me some details—" your words were cut short when changbin stuffed a piece of fabric in your mouth.

changbin looked at you directly, his gaze intense and focused. "let me do the talking," he said firmly. "i need to know if you want to fuck me or not." he held your gaze as he waited for your response. "so, just nod if you do." he continued, his voice steady. "and shake your head no if you don't." he wasn't afraid of the consequences of his actions. it was you sending mixed signals, and he wanted to clear the tension by being direct.

he watched. struggling to keep the smile off of his face as he watched you nod your head, eyes staring directly into his. finally. for once, you were easy to talk to.

"okay... may i take you... here, now?" changbin sat on the bed next to you and removed the fabric from your mouth.

"...yes... you may." you said, breathy.

"but i wanna be able to use these ties, is that okay?" he asked. "to be able to do that, you'll have to get naked."

"yes, fine, please, whatever! just- just take me." you shook around, trying to free yourself from the restrains so you could undress yourself.

"don't get too excited." changbin reached for the hem of your baggy shirt and pulled it over your head, revealing your exposed chest — he wanted to roam his hands all over your body so badly but he had to be patient. he pushed you against the bed so you laid down on your arms. he steadily, cautiously, painfully slowly pulled your shorts and underwear down. finally taking the remainders of the silk rope on your wrists and he tied them expertly around your thighs, keeping them spread.

you watched all but in silence, giving bratty, annoying commentary about how he was taking his sweet time, but he was patient once more because he knew he would be able to fuck you in silence. but you're not very quiet in bed to no one's surprise.

finally, when he was done, he stood up and observed his masterpiece, you, spread all perfect for him — you looked at him in silence, expression defeated by how he took his sweet time and you were still horny. finally, changbin climbed onto the bed, hed in between your legs and he collected his saliva before spitting onto your hole. fitting his middle finger inside, you squeezed tightly around him and let out a soft mewl.

"ah, come on, do you have to be such a tease~?" you whined out. you couldn't move much so your only weapon was your words

"yes, yes i do." changbin curled his finger in your hole right where you wanted it and your entire body jolted at the sensation.

"f-fuck, just take me now. don't wait. i can't take it anymore!" you shuffled around his bed, almost crying.

"beg for it." changbin watched your desperate form freeze at his words.

"what? this isn't a porno, quit making me do shit and just fuck me already—"

"beg. for. it." he stood up and pulled out something from his drawer. "i got a vibrator here and i could edge you all night if you're not up for begging,"

"f-fuck. fuck you. fuck." you closed your eyes and sighed deeply. "please. please, changbin, fuck me. i want your cock in me so bad, please... i'm begging." you whined, tears forming on your eyes.

"good job." changbin placed down the vibrator on the table and climbed over you, one hand stroking the side of your hair and his thumb grazing over your cheek. "don't cry. s'beautiful." he whispered. unzipping his pants and pulling out his hard, fat cock, pushing it against your entrance that begged for him to come inside.

"ahh, please..!" you whined. your legs were already sore from the restraints and you just wanted his cock to fill you up so good. "seo changbin!" you yelled. finally, he pushed his dick inside without a warning, erupting a yelp from your throat.

"fuck..." changbin hissed. hips unmoving as he let you adjust to the pain. "fuck, are you okay?" he asked, looking into your eyes and you nod, lips parted and unable to speak.

"better than okay. keep going..." you took deep, ragged breaths, squeezing tightly around changbin's thick cock as he began to thrust into you with an unrelenting pace — he was so much faster than you ever would have expected him to be. (not that you ever imagined having sex with him.) "ahh, changbin! keep going~" you moaned out, your voice high and desperate as he thrust into you faster and faster, the bed creaking beneath the force of his movements. the sound of you being pounded filled the room, mingling with your pleas for him to continue.

the noise of your moans and changbin's thrusting filled the room, effectively covering up the sound of keys jingling and the door slamming open. however, the moment was quickly ruined by a high-pitched scream that didn't come from either of you.

han stood frozen in the doorway, his mouth and eyes wide with shock as he took in the surreal scene before him. "OH MY FUCKING JEEBUS," he yelled, too traumatized to even flinch. he began crying and quickly barged out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. "I'M SO FUCKING SORRY, I'M SO SORRY." he sobbed. you weren't sure if he was apologizing to you guys for barging in or apologizing to himself for ever coming inside unwelcomed.

jinnie.

"hyunjin, i swear on my unborn dead great grandchild's grave. delete that photo right now." you chased hyunjin around the living dorm room as he cackled like a maniac. "hyunjin, i'm fucking serious! someone might walk in! don't be such a dickhead."

"oh, but throughout our relationship when was i not a dickhead?" he stopped running and held the phone farther out of your reach when you attempted to grab it. "y'know, i'm starting to think you wanted me to see this."

he held his phone tightly in front of your face, revealing the nude mirror selfie you took a few minutes ago and accidentally shared to him. in a panic, you accidentally unsent the photo 'for you' rather than 'for everyone' causing you to quickly cover up in a robe, run to his room in hopes that he was asleep so you could delete it before he saw anything, only to lead to this very moment.

"why on earth would i want you to see that?! delete it! " you whined and grabbed his phone but he pulled it away from your grip, his eyes flickering down to your exposed chest in your loosened robe.

"come on, y/n, stop playing hard to get." he held your chin and put his forehead against yours. you pushed him away and scoffed.

"fucking forget it. asshole." you grumbled and walked away.

"you sure?" hyunjin called out to you. "i know a way you can get me to delete it."

you froze in your step and slowly turned around, eyes meeting his across the room. of course he knows a way. it's hyunjin. you let out a small sigh and crossed your arms over your chest.

"...fine. what is it?"

hyunjin shrugged. "deal with the problem your pic caused," he set the phone aside plopped himself down on the couch, legs spread wide.

you wanted to scoff and tell him to fuck off but you thought this could be an opportunity an eye for an eye, or in this case, a nude pic for a nude pic — so, you walked over and sunk down on your knees. hands roaming his pyjama-clad thighs before ghosting over his erection. you smirked, looking up at him. "is this all just for my picture?"

"do you want it to be?"

"ugh, you're impossible."

"i technically can't be 'impossible' because i exist, the term you're looking for is that i'm 'improbable'—" his retort cut off short when you squeezed his cock through the thin fabric before kissing it softly.

"blah blah blah. you're hard for me." you looked up at him before slowly pulling his pants down along with his underwear. your breath hitching in your throat as you catch sight of his large, long, and pretty penis — fuck, you're starting to just wanna suck him off but you can't let your plan go to waste.

hyunjin looks down at you, brows a bit furrowed and lips slightly parted as he takes in steady breaths. you take in the tip of his dick into your mouth and he lets out a soft moan, you bob your head a bit before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you together. "fuck." hyunjin mutters under his breath, throwing his head back, eyes closed.

"is it good?" you ask as you pump his length with one hand. the other reaching down for your own phone in the pocket of your robe.

"more." he whines.

you smirk as you turn on your camera and turn the flash off, your right hand pauses from jerking him and you stand up to take the perfect photo of his fucked out form on the couch, legs spread and dick exposed in all his glory. hyunjin looks at you and immediately runs to grab your phone. "hey! what do you think you're doing?" he grabbed both of your wrists, squeezing your left hand until you dropped your phone to the carpeted ground.

"taking your picture since you have mine." you winced at his grip but that didn't stop you from being a bitch.

"i already told you i'd delete yours if you just-"

"what? sucked you off? nah, i'd rather use your own picture against you." you chuckled in his face.

"but you already- why did you have to- ugh, you're so frustrating!" hyunjin tossed you on the couch and pinned you down, his large frame over yours. he uses one hand to undo your robe and he lines up his member with your entrance. it was all so fast but you didn't want to interject.

"you need to finish what you started, darling." hyunjin pushed his tip inside you.

"fuck, fuck-" you hissed out as he stretched your insides and you grabbed on tightly to his shoulders. "it hurts!" you cried out and hit his back, he immediately pulled out and looked at you.

"fuck, sorry, are you alright?"

"asshole, couldn't you prep me first? you know you're big." you grumbled

"ayyo what the fuck," a deep voice erupted from the doorway. your heads simultaneously snapped to felix. his eyes darted from your position, your exposed body through the undone robe, to hyunjin's hard dick. the sparkle in his eyes faded as they grew wider and wider. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

hannie.

"stop making a fuss about everything! focus on a way to get out."

you didn't know how a private discussion with the hate of your life inside the storage room would lead to you both being trapped in it. you were convinced one of the members did so, but it was not funny.

"kick it down, asshole!" jisung stepped back, giving you space.

"you kick it down!" you yelled, almost offended that he even believed you had enough strength to kick the damn door down. "you have the years of training and working out for performances—"

"quit yapping about and just do something about it, i'm tired of sharing oxygen with you—" you slammed jisung against the wall, rendering him and yourself speechless. you didn't know what your next move was at this point, but when you saw the small tent forming on jisung's thin pyjama pants, you knew what your next move would be.

"you—"

"shut up." jisung darted his eyes away from yours, stepping closer to the door and repeatedly banging his hand against it. the loud, irritating noise filling the room. "guys! is anyone there? let us out!"

"stop it." you stepped closer to jisung, your form sandwiched his with the door on the other side. "you don't want them to hear what's gonna happen next, no?" you gently guided his body to turn around so he faced you before you got on your knees and slowly pulled his pants down, revealing his large hard-on squeezing past his black underwear.

you looked up to see jisung with no objections but still avoiding your gaze, so you slapped his bare thigh to garner his attention. "hey." you blankly called out for him. "look at me." without hesitation, he looked at you, his brows were furrowed and his eyes were watering a bit.

"fuck, can you just suck me off already?" his hands reached for your hair, pulling you toward his crotch, but you fought back, pushing yourself away from him with the help of the door behind him.

"don't be so eager, jisung—" you attempted, but he was too strong, one hand turned your head to face his dick and pushed your lips against him.

"shit," he hissed, throwing his head back. he began rocking his hips and pushing his clothed groin against your lips.

"jisung!" you yelled and slapped his thigh again, erupting a yelp from him, pausing his actions. "i told you not to be so eager."

jisung's knees fell weak and he slid down the door, sitting against it and covering his face in shame. "b-but i wanted it so bad—"

"well, you're gonna have to earn it." you got on your feet and stood, looking down at him.

"h-how?"

"make me cum."

jisung eagerly nodded and went on his knees, going straight for your crotch, but you grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back. "ah ah," you tutted. "don't be eager." slowly, you gently guided his head to your crotch. "slow and steady," you whispered and let out a breath of relief as you felt his warm breath against you.

slowly, you let go of his hair and pulled your shorts down — the scandalous sight of your enemy, han, on his knees for you, his warm breath against your skin, his erection still evident and aching against his underwear — all of it combined turned you on more than you thought it should.

you stepped backward so you had something to lean on while han pleasured you, instantly, your back met with the shelf and you hit it a little too hard — causing a stack of unopened canned paint to fall down and clatter against each other as they rolled across the floor, you and han slowly watched as it rolled from your side, all the way down to the door that was now open. your eyes went from the bare feet, slowly going up to the skinny form see hyunjin with his jaw dropped (you were surprised you didn't see it on the ground next to his feet.)

"BANG CHANNNNNN," hyunjin ran away from the ungodly sight.

"fuck." you cursed and pulled your shorts back up, running after hyunjin and leaving han on the floor. "HYUNJIN, WAIT, WHAT YOU SAW IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS." (what the fuck else could it be, y/n?)

lixie.

"c'mon, don't tell me you haven't imagined us making loveeee~" you purred, sauntering towards felix's bedside. you'd walked in on him mid-fanfiction, his phone glowing with the words of a steamy enemies-to-lovers scenario on ao3, his phone discarded and long forgotten on the floor. he flung it across the room when you walked in. funnily, he flung it in your direction. so, you picked it up and read enough to get the gist.

"don't tease, y/n. it's art, it's a- a novel—" felix tried to excuse his behaviour with a scoff and made a weak attempt to push you off of his bed, you remained seated.

"novel my ass. the literature published on ao3 are nothing but for self indulgence and the pleasures of dirty minds like yours."

"aren't most books?"

"come on, just say it. say you wanna fuck me." you giggled, poking his side teasingly. "say itttt~ ah!" you let out a pained yelp when your head bangs against the headboard and felix pins you down on his bed.

his face hovered inches above yours, his breath hot against your face. "is that so bad?" he growled, his voice dropping to a lower octave that sent shivers down your spine and straight to your core. you gulped, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

"oh shi, my bad bro, i didn't mean to trigger the demon within-" you attempt to laugh it off. but your heart raced in your chest as felix continued to pin you down with his gaze, his grip tightening around your wrists. "come on, i was just teasing, bro, let me go. i have work to do."

"come on, if you had time to come in here and tease me, you can take a few hours off work, no?" he purred, tilting his head closer to your face.

"quit joking, felix-"

"you're one to talk about joking," felix whispered, his lips brushing against your neck. you let out a breathy moan in response as he placed open-mouthed kisses on your sensitive skin.

"no, really," you gasped, threading your fingers through his hair to keep his head close. "you can't handle hours with me. you'll tap out first."

felix chuckled darkly, his hands roaming over your body. "wanna bet?" he asked, mouth against your neck, peppering kisses up until he finally connected your lips together, you moaned into his mouth and chased him as he pulled away.

"fine, let's bet then," you challenged, breaking free from his grip and reversing your positions. straddling his hips, you slowly lowered yourself onto him, grinding once, twice. his hands dug into your hips, and he buried his face in his pillow to muffle a deep groan. "what's wrong, baby boy? can't handle it anymore?" you teased. grinding again before taking your sweater off and tossing it aside.

"nah, come on, you can do better than that." felix laughed and pulled his pyjama pants down, revealing his plain black boxer shorts. you pushed his shirt up, exposing his chiseled abs, and you peppered them with kisses, pressing a soft kiss against the bulge in his underwear.

"do you think i could take you?" you tilted your head and pulled his underwear down, revealing his pretty erection. you began pumping him slowly, licking the precum off of his tip. you can feel him shiver under your touch and you smile sweetly. "can't take it anymore, honey?"

"you're being unfair." felix complained, sitting up and turning you around to put you on all fours. he pushed the small of your back down, forcing you to arch, and then expertly pulled your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. you decided to let him have his way and see what he could do to please you.

"shut. the. front. door." hyunjin stood at felix's doorway with a cheeky smile. "Y/N, YOU DID IT! I TOLD YOU BEING A BITCH TO HIM WOULD WORK!"

"HYUNJIN, GET THE FUCK OUT."

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚

main masterlist.

©️ 2025 k-zuzulibrary All Rights Reserved.

[itsabouttimex2]

MK and Mei’s Friendship

Wukong and Macaque’s Fallout

Mei isn’t the next “warrior”, and she would 100% beat your ass for implying she’s like Macaque

I’m going to preface this for anyone who might want to leave early- I personally dislike this theory!

Because to me, it isn’t a theory- it’s just wrong.

And usually it’s so wrong that it shatters the reality of MK’s and Mei’s character for the sake of forcing them into little “Sun Wukong” and “Macaque” shaped balls.

And so often it starts with demonizing MK/Wukong.

I see, so often, this portrayed in two ways:

1. MK loses his mind and becomes a vicious monster that must be collared and restrained for the good of all around him.

2. MK becomes obsessed with power and fighting, thus driving Mei away.

And both of these are done in an attempt to “link” the kids with the monkeys.

MK-Wukong and Mei-Macaque

We don’t really need to talk about the first two- most of the show is about MK interacting with the Monkey King and learned to handle his legacy and foes- we’d be here all day.

But, what sort of interactions do Mei and Macaque share? Well, for Mei, it’s:

1. Being a victim of his violent and murderous actions

2. Being extremely close to his other frequent victims

3. Bafflingly having no negative opinions on the man who led an assault on her people’s palace, tried to murder her friends, and forced Tang to unleash the Samadhi Fire, nearly killing her in the process.

4. Being a weaker character for her lack of hostile dynamic with someone who has hurt her again and again and again

5. Having a worthless “team-up” with Macaque without the show ever having her address what he’s done to her and her loved ones

6. Weaken her character by taking away characteristics like “willing to call people out” and “gets violent when people try to hurt the ones she loves” for the sake of a boring and short “team-up”.

…yeah, thats not a great list.

Already, Mei’s non-violent interactions with Macaque leave a lot to be desired- and don’t hint to anything even close to her being a “successor” to his story like MK is to Wukong.

Back to those two first bullet points, now, right under the read more.

Sun Wukong and MK are not; and never have been, “mindless monsters”, in spite of MK’s destructiveness in his monkey form- it is explicitly made clear that he’s in control of himself.

“There’s nothing “mindless” about this.”

And he was right. MK is completely awake and aware in his monkey form, with full mental faculties. He’s verbally capable of shredding Azure and decrying his crimes in an efficient fashion, all while kicking him around.

MK wasn’t “going insane”- he was having fun.

(That’s a rant for another day, though)

Nor did Sun Wukong solely drive Macaque away.

The crux of Wukong and Macaque’s fallout is clearly displayed in the show, in the fourth season of Monkie Kid- it started from a single fucking argument.

Now, I’d like to preface again: this is the first point that I see many, oh so many theorizers, artists, writers, etc- get wrong.

SUN WUKONG IS NOT THE “BAD GUY” IN THIS SCENE.

THEY ARE BOTH AT FAULT.

Sun Wukong is trapped. For attempting to overthrow the Jade Emperor, he is sentenced to FIVE HUNDRED YEARS trapped under a mountain.

Let me elaborate for anyone who doesn’t sympathize.

For the next five hundred years, Sun Wukong will be 75% immobile and alone under a nearly lightless mountain. There will be no noise, no stimulation, and no company. He will suffer in silence, and he will suffer alone.

But you know who ISN’T being punished for an attempt to overthrow the Jade Emperor?

Macaque.

Now, this is funny. Wukong leads a six strong band of brothers against the forces of the Celestial Realm, but only ONE of them faces consequences for the rebellion- himself.

Even five hundred years later when Wukong is set free and traveling with his fellow pilgrims…

No one else has faced consequences for the rebellion. All five of Wukong’s “brothers” (Azure Lion, Peng, Demon Bull King, Yellowtusk, and yes, Macaque) get away scot-free to continue their plans and schemes.

I would be pissed. You would be pissed. There is not ONE SINGLE PERSON in this world that would NOT be pissed about how blatantly unfair this is.

Especially not after spending five hundred years nearly immobile under a dark and lonely mountain.

So, even before all, here and now, under that mountain, before five long and lonely centuries have passed, faced with the current injustice of his predicament-

Wukong lashes out and blames Macaque.

No. Fucking. Shit.

All of us (none of us are saints, do not try to say otherwise) would have snapped in anger.

All of us would have been angry. Each and every last one.

Mostly immobile and imprisoned alone to take the blame of six guilty men, Wukong lashes out at the nearest person.

And what does Macaque do, when blamed one single time for something that is mutually the fault of six men, including himself?

He lies and runs away.

No the fuck you didn’t.

Macaque nudges the idea. He implies the idea. He hints, quietly and softly.

“You’re really going through with this?” Is not him shutting down the idea of fighting the Celestial Realm.

It’s him being a coward and trying to dance around the issue without a direct confrontation.

Not even once does Macaque say: “We shouldn’t fight the Jade Emperor.”

Macaque directly LIES to present himself as being the better person during this fight.

MACAQUE IS FUCKING LYING TO HIS BEST FRIEND’S FACE TO MAKE HIMSELF LOOK BETTER, THEN RUNS AWAY AND NEVER COMES BACK DESPITE HAVING FIVE HUNDRED YEARS TO DO SO.

(But because it’s their ‘pewfect pwecious Maccy’, the fandom blindly ate this blatant dogshit lie up and took it at face value. Y’all don’t deserve unreliable narrators and mature themes go watch cocomelon/s)

The moment something goes wrong, what do these two do?

Blame each other to absolve themselves of sin, and then one runs away and chooses to never come back.

This was fucked up and toxic from the start- Macaque was a cowardly little bitch, and Wukong was a power-hungry idiot.

And both of these dumbasses have ZERO communication skills.

You know who doesn’t fall into those categories? OUR KIDDOS.

Mei and MK fight too- as soon as the first season.

And what does Mei do when her best friend accidentally wrecks her bike and nearly costs her a race that was EXTREMELY important to her?

She forgives him almost the moment he apologizes, and he immediately works on making it up to her.

Well, hold on a minute! That doesn’t sound like, I don’t know…

Lying to make yourself look better, throwing the blame around instead of accepting it, and running away for five entire centuries?

Huh. It’s almost like, maybe, instead of being built on one-sided adoration and tenuous “brotherhood”, Mei and MK see each other as, of all things-!

Equals. Friends. Partners.

Mei will NEVER abandon her best friend. Nothing could make her. Even when facing down lethal odds, her first response will ALWAYS be to run to him.

Even if she has to be forcibly dragged away, screaming and in tears, Mei will always fight to stay by MK’s side.

Nothing in the world could tear them apart. Not a petty fight. Not a presumed death. Not demons or celestials. Not an inky scroll of eternity inscribed with the past.

There is ONE circumstance in which she runs away from him-

When she’s overwhelmed by the Samadhi Fire and terrified of hurting the person she loves most with a

DEMONIC FIRE FUSED TO HER BODY THAT COULD EASILY BE USED TO DESTROY THE ENTIRE PLANET

then, and only then… does Mei run.

That is what it takes to drive her and MK apart. Not an argument. Not a game of flinging blame. Not a mishap or a tumble.

But fear for his life.

She runs away because, even if she wants to stay- Mei loves him.

And she loves him too much to think of putting her own life and desires before his.

Mei and MK are not the “hero and the warrior”.

This is not MK and Mei. And it never will be.

This is Macaque and Wukong, two people driven apart by boldness that was brashness and cleverness that was cowardice. This is a tale of adoration and anger and heartbreak and betrayal.

This is not MK and Mei. And it never will be.

Because they love each other too much to ever be “the hero and the warrior”.

And they’re all the better for it.

[imaginesmai]

Promises to keep (2) - Azriel

Part 1

Plot: you and Azriel try to make it out of your captivity in time. With your powers discovered, is up to you to survive enough to save him - and with your powers draining, is up to him to save you.

Warnings: blood and violence, again.

You weren’t the first one to move. Stories about your parents’ death, hunted and slaughtered for their powers, terrified you until you couldn’t force yourself to move. Safe in Velaris, you had never wondered the consequences of a power like yours in such a selfish world.

When the first fae lunched at you, it was Azriel who made her trip with his crippled leg to the ground. His years of training and war showed themselves when the woman didn’t utter another breath, her neck broken in a terrible angle. Your mate growled like a storm, promising death to whoever came close to you.

That thought, Azriel facing them hurt and defenseless, was enough to spur you into action – and everyone else. You weren’t a warrior, not like him. Hadn’t been trained in your power in fear someone would sense it and come for you. You were clumsy, untrained and tired, but you were powerful.

It was blur of blood, iron and light.

Your goal was clear – not to let them close to Azriel. He could defend himself, maybe, for a few minutes. But you weren’t stupid enough to believe he could win against trained soldiers in the state he was in. So you fought, with your power, nails and teeth.

A knife sliced through your collarbone and someone kicked your knee to make you fall. They were blasted away before you touched the ground, only to be replaced by an arm around your throat and a punch against your stomach.

You lost your breath and the light disappeared, and you couldn’t get it back. Not with the male behind you chocking the life out of you, arm and fingers pressing over your windpipe. You wondered briefly if he could break your neck, crush your throat, with just his grip, but he was pushed off you before you could wonder farther.

Azriel’s pained inhale made your light explode, and then everything was silent.

You fell to the ground and curled yourself in a tight ball, your ears ringing. It felt as if every part of your body was covered by fried nerves, the feel of the ground on your skin sickening. Old wounds reopened by the sheer force of your power, blood coming out of them.

The pain and overwhelming feelings weren’t enough obstacle to realize there were no other heartbeats but Azriel’s and yours.

You never used your power, and you were ready to never use them again. The next breath was forced into your lungs when Azriel hastily turned you over and pain wrecked your body. He had a new gash on his forehead, and was covered in blood that wasn’t his.

“Look at me” he grabbed your cheeks and only dared himself to flinch at the obvious pain in your gaze. “You need to breath. You’re not breathing – Y/N! Now!”

He physically recoiled when he moved you, knowing what it would do to your sensitive body. But he had to shake you out of your stupor before it was too late. You finally took a shaky breath and kept hyperventilating, not tearing your gaze away from him.

That was what he had always feared. That you would be forced to use it, because of him, because he wasn’t able to protect you. He had trained harder for centuries, had assured your safety after you found refuge in his court and he became your protector, your friend, your mate and lover. Watching your body rigid with pain and shock, watching you kill those fae for him, was threatening to pull him under another wave of panic and terror.

“Listen to me” he exhaled, his whole body screaming at the movement. “The male – he’s gone. He has managed to get out and he’s coming back. You need to leave. The door is open and –“

“I killed them” you stated, not looking around but smelling their blood.

“It was either them or us. You saved us” Azriel allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, pushing the spy out of him and bringing the caring mate you needed. “I know you are scared. I am scared. And when all of this is over, we can be scared together. But I need you to run, darling, because I can’t hold them off forever when they come back. Don’t look back. Listen for any sound and choose the opposite direction. And if it comes between you and them, you burn this place down”

Those words took you out of your shock, because burning that place down meant burning him with it. Yet you realized he hadn’t included himself in that certain part of the plan, because he was asking you to run without him.

Through fried nerve ends and rigid limbs, you found it in you to be furious. To want to berate for hours about him being a selfless idiot and punch some sense into him. Instead of doing that, you rose up until you were kneeling on shaky limbs. Your burnt hands were bleeding all over again, pressed against the tiles of the cell in an effort to keep you conscious.

You brushed Azriel’s worried hand off your shoulder and got up only blacking out for a few seconds. The cell rotated around you, lights and shadows behind your eyelids.

By the time you could orientate yourself, you noticed Azriel had gotten up too using just one leg, and was keeping you straight between himself and the wall.

“I’m not going to leave you” you stated.

“My love” he used that damned nickname, knowing it made you weak in the knees. “You have to. I can buy you enough time for you to go out. I can’t… you have to”

Looking down, you fixed your gaze on his leg. The sight of open, seeping wounds and sticking bones was enough to tremble your world, and if you looked at his wings, it would only be worse. But you swallowed the lump around your throat and shook your head.

“We are walking out of this cell together, or we wait here together. I’m not gonna leave you”

You couldn’t stop shaking your head, couldn’t stop your voice from trembling. Because living without Azriel would be worse than dying in that cell without him. He seemed to understand he wouldn’t be winning that argument, so he nodded softly. He didn’t protest when you used part of your power as a crutch to keep him steady, when you wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him forward.

Azriel could only look at you swallowing down your pain and wish the Cauldron was merciful enough to keep you safe when he was gone.

He couldn’t identify where you were, because the hallways looked the same. No windows, no rooms. Just walls and ceilings and floors of stone and marble, right and left, long and short. Each step felt like a race against time, and Azriel was aware that you weren’t winning. Without him, you could move at a limited speed. He had seen what using your power meant, after you barely escaped your captors when he found you centuries ago.

Without him, you would be able to walk fast, maybe jog at certain time without rest. But you were holding onto him as if he was the one carrying both of you. You held his weight and used part of your power to keep him straight enough not to fall.

Azriel kept looking behind his shoulder, waiting to see them coming at you. His heart jumped in his throat when he heard a noise, but so far, you had only found two patrols that you had taken care of. The first one was easy – after the second, he had to help you sit down against the wall and wait impatiently for you regain conscious.

“Don’t fall back” he reminded you, even though it was pointless. Your body was slacking off and his was too. “One step at a time”

“I’m trying” your breath came in pants.

“Drop my leg”

“Shut up”

For the fifth time, you refused to let that little help go, even if that was the last remain of your strength. You could do it on your own, you could get out of there without him, but Azriel understood that he wouldn’t. Trying to convince you otherwise, trying to make you see that it was pointless, would be wasting a time that you didn’t have.

So his hope lay on the faebane.

He hadn’t eaten breakfast nor lunch, which was starting to take a toll on his already mangled body. But that meant he hadn’t had faebane in his body for a while. And now, out of that damn cell, he could try to use his powers without risking your life.

He was already starting to feel the bond back, waves of nausea and pain that weren’t his coming in steady waves. Azriel had blocked his part, but you were too busy to notice yours. So he swallowed the stinging of your burned hands, the tightness of your body and the cut on your collarbone.

You didn’t waste time either talking, nor trying to plan your escape. By the time you had escaped the fourth patrol, Azriel was the one carrying you. You didn’t argue when you were lowered to the ground once more, his scarred hand brushing the hair out of your sweaty face.

“I’m not going to drop it” you reminded him, your eyes half-closed. You had never used to much power, but were ready to see where it took you. “Nor leave you”

“Got the point a couple of hours ago. How are you feeling?” he asked, leaving his hand covering your cheek. While you got worse with each minute, Azriel had gained some of his strength and power back. “Tell me how can I help”

“It feels like I’m being turned inside out” you told him honestly, no point in lying when both of your lives were at risk. “I’m hot but shivering, my whole body vibrated and it… I’m tired”

“Let’s get this jacket off, hm?”

You noticed he was still stiff and hurt, but he managed to brush his own jacket off your body and use part of it to clean the dried blood from your face. You closed your eyes against his touch, his warmth. If you drifted far enough, you could pretend you were back in Velaris, Azriel brushing the hair off your face while you fell asleep.

Memories from your relationship filled your mind. The first time you met, how scared you had been and how kind the winged stranger had been. The weeks of healing and explaining, his presence always by your side. Moments together in your shared cabin, taken from granted. If you tried enough, you could pretend you were locked in one of them.

Azriel’s voice brought you back to the present. He tried giving you a reassuring smile, but you could see in his eyes that he had been talking for a while and you hadn’t answered. That he was beyond worried.

“Back with me?” he asked, always gentle.

“Yeah” you looked towards the end of another hallway. “We should keep going. It must end somewhere”

“Rhys is coming” Azriel blurted out, making you slightly more aware. “He must have noticed our presences without the faebane, but I sent some shadows. Just in case. He’s coming, so you just hold on, alright?”

“I can’t feel it” you frowned.

Azriel didn’t bother pointing out that with the drain of your power it was a mystery how you were still conscious. He had watched you twice now lose consciousness, only to come back moments later with your gaze a little darker. Every inch of his power was directed at his high lord, at his brother, because he knew he wouldn’t be getting you out of there on his own.

You stared at him in silence. In a matter of hours, things had changed – Azriel could now walk without your help, a little trembling, but he could manage. His wings were still useless and he almost blacked out too when he rotated his shoulder. Still, things had changed. Because now it was him who stood a chance of making it out, while you dampened in front of him.

It was pointless to turn the tables and ask him to leave, so you decided to give it a rest. You retreated your power from his leg and sagged against the wall. Certainly, you felt like there wasn’t anything left of you.

“Hold on. And that’s an order, not a promise”

“So bossy”

Azriel smiled with silver lines under his bruised eyes. He leaned forward and, for the first time since you were taken, pressed his lips against yours. The kiss tasted like blood, yours or his you couldn’t know. They were gentle and soft, despite the many times his lips had been opened by an angry fist.

He cupped your cheek, as if it was the first time you kissed, and brushed his tongue against your lower lip. Before he could deepen it, he moved his mouth to the corner of yours. To your lower cheek, then to your upper part. He kissed each and every part of your face, gathering the scared tears you were finally letting free.

Your breath hiccupped as you finally let yourself feel afraid. That you might not make it out, that the power you had used killed people with families, that your body was drained and ready to give out. That, if you blinked for too long, no one assured you that Azriel would be breathing when you opened them again.

You rose your hand and closed it around his wrist. If you made it out, you would have matching scars, but that was the least of your worries. Your burns needed treatment, and you didn’t miss how his body went rigid under your touch. Still, he pulled away and looked at you in the eyes.

“Promise me it’ll be okay” you begged him, the sight of him blurry with tears. “Just one time”

“I promise it’ll be okay” he lied without hesitation, knowing he couldn’t make you that promise. Even if you made it out, he knew it wouldn’t be fine. “You promise me to hold on a little longer”

You fell quiet, blinking slowly. Could you promise him that, though? Could you gather strength to lie to him one more time? Just as you were, he could hear the sound of footsteps coming closer. You wouldn’t get up that time. Even if you tried, all you would gather was a brief flick of light. And he would try, you were certain, to get up, and maybe would hold them for a while.

Swallowing down, you nodded and whispered your promise.

Azriel was all you could feel and see for a moment. His hazel eyes, filled with worry and sorrow and guilt, so much more guilt that any person should carry. His soft freckles, that were covered by stains of blood. Dark locks of hair fell over his face, greasy and tangled, but they couldn’t cover the beauty of your mate.

He still held your face on the palm of his hand and you still gripped his wrist. If you had to die, you guessed, you didn’t mind doing it staring at him. And he must have thought the same, because his shoulders sagged in relief and his eyes softened.

His mouth moved, saying something. I love you seemed worthy of the moment, but you didn’t hear it. Only white noise and static. His smile dropped and his eyebrows scrunched when he repeated himself and you didn’t move.

You must had been worthy in any other life, because suddenly there were two beautiful copies of your mate in front of you, both of them equally worried. Before you blinked one last time, you saw Azriel’s face scrunching in horror, a kind hand making him step sideways.

Worried violet eyes were the last thing you remembered before blacking out.

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[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 27 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇sighhh

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Telemachus leaned against the doorway of Y/N’s room, his arms crossed as he watched her adjust her hair in front of the mirror. There was a tension in his stance, his jaw tight as he tried to muster the right words. Finally, he let out a sigh.

“Y/N,” he started cautiously, his voice firm but not unkind. “I’ve been thinking… I don’t think you should visit Antinous in the dungeon anymore.”

Pandora froze, her fingers pausing mid-braid. She turned slowly to face him, her expression immediately shifting to one of disbelief. “What?”

“It’s not safe,” he explained, stepping further into the room. “The guards aren’t fond of him, and he’s not exactly the most stable person to be around. I just don’t want you putting yourself in danger.”

She frowned, crossing her arms. “Antinous is my brother, Telemachus. He may be a lot of things, but he’s not dangerous to me.”

Telemachus’s eye twitched slightly, but he kept his voice steady. “He’s unpredictable, Y/N. You don’t know what he might do. And the guards—if they think you’re sympathizing with him too much, they might make it hard for you to even be around the palace.”

Her jaw tightened, and she stepped closer to him. “I don’t care what the guards think. And I know my brother better than you ever could. I’m not going to abandon him, especially now.”

Telemachus pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated but trying to keep his temper in check. “This isn’t about abandoning him, Y/N. It’s about keeping you safe. Do you think I want to lose you because you’re too stubborn to see reason?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Reason? You think I’m being unreasonable because I care about my brother?”

He sighed deeply, his hand dropping back to his side. “You’re not being unreasonable, but you’re being reckless. Antinous made his choices, and now he’s paying for them. You don’t need to get caught up in the consequences of his actions.”

“I’m not abandoning him, Telemachus,” she said firmly, her voice rising slightly. “I already lost my family once when we were once. I’m not losing him again. I don’t care what you say—I’m going to keep visiting him, whether you like it or not.”

Telemachus stared at her, a mixture of frustration and concern etched across his face. He opened his mouth to argue but then closed it again, running a hand through his hair instead. “Y/N,” he tried one last time, his tone softer but still pleading, “please. Just think about it. For me.”

Her expression softened for a brief moment, but then she shook her head resolutely. “I’ve thought about it, and my answer’s the same. I’m not going to stop visiting him.”

Telemachus let out a frustrated groan, muttering under his breath. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“Why do you have to be so controlling?” she shot back, her tone sharp.

They stood in tense silence for a moment before Telemachus finally threw up his hands. “Fine! Do whatever you want. But don’t come running to me when something goes wrong.”

Her glare softened slightly as he turned to leave, but she held her ground. “I’ll be fine, Telemachus. I know what I’m doing.”

He paused in the doorway, glancing back at her with a mixture of exasperation and worry. “I hope you’re right,” he muttered, before walking out and shutting the door behind him. As the door clicked shut, she let out a shaky breath, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. No matter what Telemachus thought, she wasn’t going to give up on her brother. Not now, not ever.

——

It was late, the moonlight spilling into Telemachus’s room through the open window, casting soft silver light on the walls. Y/N slipped in quietly, her bare feet making no sound against the cold stone floor. She found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head buried in his hands, the tension in his shoulders clear even in the dim light. “Telemachus,” she called softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He didn’t respond at first, but when she stepped closer, he glanced up, his blue eyes weary and shadowed with frustration. “If you’re here to argue again, y/n, I don’t have the energy for it.”

She frowned but didn’t respond to his sharp tone. Instead, she sat down beside him, close enough that their knees brushed. “I’m not here to argue,” she said gently, resting a hand on his arm. “I’m here because I don’t want us to go to sleep angry with each other.”

Telemachus let out a heavy sigh, leaning back slightly and running a hand through his hair. “You don’t listen to me,” he said, his voice low. “And it drives me insane because all I’m trying to do is protect you.”

“I know,” she said softly, her hand slipping down to take his. “And I’m sorry if it feels like I’m ignoring you. I’m not. I just… I can’t abandon my brother. It’s not who I am.”

Telemachus squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he stared down at their entwined fingers. “It’s just so hard, Y/N,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have so much on my shoulders already—being king, taking care of this kingdom, trying to live up to my father’s name. And then there’s you, constantly throwing yourself into danger for someone I can’t stand. It makes me feel like I’m failing you.”

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re not failing me,” she murmured, her voice steady and soothing. “You’re doing everything you can to protect me, to protect Ithaca. That’s what makes you such a good man, Telemachus. And one day, you’re going to be a great king.”

Telemachus turned his head slightly, his cheek brushing against her hair as he closed his eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” she said firmly, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “You care so much about everyone—your people, your family, this kingdom. That’s what a great king does. You’re going to make Ithaca proud.”

His lips curved into a small, weary smile, and he reached up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You always know what to say to make me feel better,” he said softly.

“That’s because I know you,” she replied with a gentle smile of her own. Telemachus leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling her back into his arms. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other in the quiet of the night, the weight of their earlier argument melting away.

“Thank you,” he murmured against her hair.

“Always,” she replied, her voice barely audible as the two of them finally found peace in each other’s embrace.

——

The morning light barely crept into the dim dungeon as Y/N descended the cold, winding stairs, a tray in her hands. The warmth of the bread and fruit on the tray contrasted sharply with the icy stone walls around her. The guards gave her a wary glance but stepped aside, knowing better than to argue with Telemachus’s betrothed.

When she reached her brother’s cell, the faint clink of chains echoed in the silence. Antinous was sitting against the far wall, his head tilted back, his eyes half closed in boredom. His once-pristine clothes were wrinkled and dirtied from his time in confinement, but his arrogant demeanor remained intact. “Are you going to just stand there, or did you bring me something edible this time?” he called out, not even bothering to look at her.

She frowned but kept her composure. “Good morning to you too, brother,” she said, her voice cool but not unkind. She crouched by the bars, sliding the tray through the small opening. “I brought you breakfast. Proper food, not the scraps they’ve been giving you.” Antinous’s eyes flicked open, and for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossed his face. He moved toward the tray, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he didn’t want to show how much he appreciated the gesture.

“Don’t think this makes up for anything,” he muttered, picking up a piece of bread and inspecting it.

She sighed, sitting cross legged on the cold stone floor outside the cell. “I’m not trying to make up for anything, Antinous. I just… I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He scoffed, taking a bite of the bread. “Do I look okay to you, Y/N? Locked up like an animal while that spoiled brat of yours gets to play king? I’m a prisoner in my own homeland.”

She flinched but didn’t back down. “You brought this on yourself, brother. You plotted against Telemachus, against Penelope. You knew the risks.”

Antinous leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her. “And you? What about you? Siding with the enemy? You’ve chosen them over your own blood.”

Her chest tightened, but she held his gaze. “I didn’t choose anyone over you, Antinous. I love you. But I can’t support what you’ve done. You tried to kill him. You tried to take this kingdom by force.”

He leaned back again, smirking bitterly. “And yet here you are, bringing me breakfast like I’m some poor, misunderstood soul. Why, Y/N? Why even bother?”

She looked down at her hands, her fingers nervously twisting together. “Because you’re my brother,” she said softly. “No matter what you’ve done, I can’t just stop caring about you. I know you probably don’t feel the same, but I needed to see you. To make sure you’re still… you.”

For a moment, there was silence between them, the only sound being the faint dripping of water somewhere in the dungeon. Antinous’s expression softened just slightly as he watched her, but the walls he’d built around himself remained firmly in place. “You’re too soft,” he muttered, picking up a piece of fruit. “That’s going to get you hurt one day.”

She managed a small smile. “Maybe. But it’s who I am.”

Antinous didn’t respond, focusing instead on the food she’d brought. She stayed for a little while longer, sitting quietly as he ate. When she finally rose to leave, he spoke up, his tone uncharacteristically subdued.

“Thanks for the breakfast,” he said, not looking at her.

She paused, her hand resting on the cold bars. “You’re welcome, Antinous,” she said softly before turning and making her way back up the stairs, her heart heavy but her resolve firm.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee

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[delicatebarness]

winters widow | chapter x

Summary: The shock of the incident still haunts you as Lord James faces the consequences of his actions.

Warning: Mentions of previous Sexual Assault. Violence. Murder. Trauma and Revenge.

Word Count: 1599

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A/N: I know it's not Saturday but I wanted Lord James okay, deal with it. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Winter’s Widow: @lanabuckybarnes | @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @mrsnikstan | @learisa | @railmesebstan | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @barnesxstan | @ghalouha | @mrsstuckyboo | @g-nobodycares-blog | @mishidrish | @melsunshine

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment

The gentle sound of water pouring into the bath was meant to be soothing, but today, it only heightened your fear. Two of your attentive and careful handmaidens began to move closer to you, their intentions clear. They were to help you out of your nightgown and into the warm water. Yet, the mere thought of being touched by anyone filled you with a deep, unshakeable dread. 

“Please, my lady, allow us to assist you,” one of the handmaidens said softly, her hands reaching for the string on your gown.

“No!” you cried out, your voice trembling. Stumbling back, your breath came in quick, shallow gasps. Their touch, gentle as it was, felt like an unbearable intrusion.

Alarmed, unsure of what to do, the handmaidens immediately stepped back. They exchanged worried looks before one quickly rushed out of the room. Her steps echoed down the hallway as she went to the council chamber.

Within the council chamber, Lord James was in deep discussion with the advisors, but he knew something was wrong the moment the handmaiden burst in, pale and out of breath. 

“My lord,” she panted, “Lady Romanoff… she needs–” 

Lord James did not wait for further explanation, nor for the handmaiden to finish her sentence before he pushed back his chair and rushed out the door within an instant. His long strides took him swiftly through the Reach’s corridors. Hurrying behind him, the handmaiden tried to keep up with him, concern still etched on her face. 

Reaching his chambers, Lord James could hear the muffled sound of your panic and refusal from within. He threw open the door and saw you, standing by the bath and clutching your nightgown tightly against your chest. Your eyes widened with fear. Standing helplessly nearby, the other handmaiden was unsure how to help. 

“Out, now,” Lord James commanded, his voice firm and authoritative. “Leave us.” 

Obeying immediately, the handmaidens bowed their heads and exited the chamber. Lord James closed the door behind them. He turned to you, his expression softening as he approached.

“My love,” he gently said, his voice instantly soothing your frayed nerves. “It’s just me now. You’re safe.” 

Tears streamed down your face as you looked up at him. “I can’t… I can’t James. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” 

His movements were slow and deliberate as he took a step closer. “You have no need to apologize, my love. You do not have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he paused, his gaze flickering between you and the filled bath. “May I assist you instead? Only if you’re comfortable with that.” 

For a moment, you hesitated but the trust you held in your betrothed, outweighed your fear. Nodding, your voice strained barely above a whisper. “Yes… please.” 

Approaching you with the utmost care, Lord James’ hands were steady and reassuring. He gently undone the spring tying your nightgown together, his eyes never leaving yours. He silently asked for your consent with every move. While you nodded again, he began to wase the fabric over your shoulders and down your arms, his touch respectful and comforting. 

As the nightgown pooled at your feet, he wrapped you in a large, soft towel, keeping you covered and warm. He then guided you to the edge of the bath, trying to disguise the hitch in his breath as he caught sight of the bruising against your skin.

“Step in when you’re ready,” he said, his voice a calming presence in the room. 

Taking a deep breath, you found your strength in his steady gaze. You stepped into the warm water with his help, feeling the heat seep into your tense muscles. Lord James kept hold of the towel until you were fully submerged, he draped it over the side of the tub within easy reach. 

Lord James knelt beside the bath, his hands resting gently on the edge. “I’ll stay right here, my love.” 

You managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, James. For everything.” 

His eyes filled with love and understanding, returning the smile. “Always, my love. Always.”

The warmth of the water and Lord James’ presence began to ease the tension in your body. And, for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to relax. If only a little, knowing that you were truly safe with your lord, and wolf by your side. 

~

The bath and Lord James’ presence had calmed you significantly, and once you were settled, he left his chambers to allow you some privacy and to return to his duties. 

The council chambers were now empty except for Lord James and his father, Lord George of House Barnes, Lord of Winter’s Reach, and Warden of the North. The atmosphere was tense, the weight of unspoke words hung in the air as Lord Barnes stood with his arms crossed, stern but fair gaze fixed on his son. 

“James,” the seasoned commander began, his voice heavy with disapproval. “We must discuss what you have done.” 

Lord James’ turned to face his father, defiance, and weariness etched on his expression. “Father, I merely did what had to be done. He deserved to pay for what he did to her.” 

Lord Barnes shook his head, frustration etched in his brow. “Acting on vengeance might feel justified, but it jeopardizes our position and our plans to rebuild. We need stability now more than ever, you can not let your emotions cloud your judgment.” 

The White Wolf’s fists clenched at his sides, struggling to keep his anger contained. “Stability? That monster violated the woman I love and you talk about stability? I could not stand by and do nothing.” 

“You think I don’t understand your pain?” His father’s voice rose, his emotions breaking through his usual stoic facade. “I’ve led my men into battle, I have seen horrors that even you can not imagine. But, as leaders James, we must rise above our personal vendettas. Your actions could have far-reaching consequences.”  

Lord James took a deep breath, his resolve unwavering. “Consequences or not, I had to do it. For her. For the peace of mind that she can begin to heal knowing that man is gone.” 

Lord Barnes let out a heavy sigh, his anger giving way to a more somber tone. “And, what about your own peace of mind? This burden you’ve taken on– it will haunt you. Killing him might have satisfied you, but… it won’t erase what happened.” 

“I know, Father,” Lord James’ eyes softened, his thoughts drifting back to you. “I did not wish to rewrite our history. But, I’ll bear that burden if it means she can sleep a little easier. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.” 

Stepping closer, Lord Barnes placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I may have let my emotions take over. But, I will not regret what I did.” Lord James spoke, breaking the short silence between father and son. 

“Nor should you,” Lord Barnes replied, his tone softening. “But, you must learn to find the balance between protecting those we love and leading our people with a clear head.” 

~

As the men delved into discussions about fortifications and resources, there was a sudden commotion erupting outside the council chambers. Sounds of muffled shouts and hurried footsteps grew louder, pulling their attention away from the map of the realm, and spread out plans. 

Lord Barnes frowned, looking toward the door. “What in the Seven Hells is going on out there?” 

As Lord James rose from his seat, the door burst open, and one of the guards, wide-eyed and breathless, stumbled into the room. “My lords, your attention is needed outside. Now.” 

Exchanging a puzzled glance with his father, the lords quickly followed the guard out of the chambers. The scene that greeted them as they stepped into the courtyard was one of awe and chaos.

The people of Winter’s Reach were gathered, fear and curiosity mixed on their faces. In the sky, circling above them, were not one, but three dragons. The creatures cast long shadows over the grounds, their scales reflecting in the sunlight.  

The first dragon held a majestic and commanding presence, landing with a thunderous thud. Its rider, Lady Natasha, dismounted with a practiced ease. Her braided, fiery hair flowed in the wind. Lady Natasha’s dragon, was the eldest and a leader, with its regal bearing and steely gaze exuded authority and strength. 

From the west, a fierce and valiant dragon descended. This dragon, ridden by Lady Yelena, was smaller in stature but no less intimidating. With an almost metallic gleam, the dragon's scales shimmered and its eyes burned with determination. Sliding off her dragon’s back with the grace of a seasoned warrior, Yelena’s expression was that of urgency. 

A much smaller and distinctly adorable dragon, followed closely and riderless. Its scales were a brilliant array of colors, and its eyes sparkled with a playful curiosity. Know for her endearing demeanor and fierce loyalty, Sunflower, Sunny for short, was your dragon. She landed softly, nuzzling Yelena affectionately as they approached the Reach. 

“Why are there suddenly three dragons in the North?” Lord James muttered to himself, bewildered by the appearance of the legendary beasts from the sky. His heart raced as he recognized their riders, shaken by the sudden appearance of your sisters. 

Striding forward, Lady Natasha’s eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Lord James. With the confidence and authority of someone accustomed to command, Yelena followed as the dragons watched over them protectively. 

“James,” Natasha called out, her voice cut through the murmurs of the onlookers. “Where is she? Where is our sister?”

---

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[nosyp]

IkeVamp chars reacting to someone harassing you

A/N = stepping into the waters of ikevamp

Napolean Bonaparte

Napoleon would look the harasser up and down, then his voice goes on to lecture the harasser.

"Leave now, or I’ll make you wish you had." He says, his gaze sharpening and a hint of his military background flashing in his eyes. "This will not end well for you if you continue."

If the harasser doesn't take him seriously, Napoleon's not gonna be as nice as before. "You’re testing the wrong person. Do you really want to deal with the full weight of my wrath?"

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Mozart would dramatically throw his hands up in exasperation, his tone playful yet scathing.

"Oh, how clever of you to harass someone who’s so clearly out of your league! Tell me, is this your best performance?" He'd laugh mockingly.

If the harasser doesn't back off, Mozart would quip, "You’ve already missed your chance to impress me, darling. Best leave before you make a fool of yourself."

Leonardo da Vinci

With a calm and inquisitive expression, Leonardo would step forward, his tone collected but firm.

"I find it curious that someone of your... intellect would waste time with such unseemly actions." His voice is steady, as though speaking to an inferior subject.

He’d pause, eyes narrowing, "I suggest you reconsider your actions. People of my stature do not tolerate such behavior. And I’m sure you’re aware of the consequences."

Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur would straighten up, giving the harasser a cold, analytical look. "Really? This is your idea of making a lasting impression?"

He’d then address the harasser directly, his voice cutting through the tension. "If you think for a moment that you’re in control here, you’ve gravely underestimated both of us."

"You may want to rethink this, as I’m certain your motives could be better directed elsewhere," he adds, a calm threat hiding beneath his words.

Vincent van Gogh

Vincent’s normally calm demeanor would crack, his voice trembling with emotion. "You have no right... no right to treat them this way!"

He steps in front of the reader, glaring at the harasser. "You don’t know who you’re messing with, do you? I won't stand for it!"

As the tension builds, Vincent’s face hardens, "Leave them alone, now. I’ll make sure you regret it if you don’t."

Theodore

Theodore would step in between you and the harasser, his voice calm but stern as he calls out the harasser. "This is not the way to behave, and you know it."

He’d give the harasser a chance to back down. "I’d advise you to walk away, before I’m forced to make you understand how serious I am."

If needed, he’d become more forceful: "I am not one for drama, but I will not let you make this a problem."

Osamu Dazai

Dazai’s initial response would be a smirk, his tone sarcastic. "Oh, how bold of you. You really think you can harass them without consequences?"

He’d lean in slightly, his smile darkening. "You’re funny. But not in a good way."

If things escalate, Dazai’s tone would shift, becoming chilling. "You’ve just made a very bad decision. One I won’t be forgetting anytime soon."

Isaac Newton

Isaac would raise an eyebrow, voice level and logical. "I’m afraid your actions are... quite irrational."

He would calmly explain, "Such behavior is not only disrespectful but also entirely unnecessary. You should consider the consequences of your actions before they escalate further."

"I believe I’ve made myself clear," Isaac would finish, his voice stern with an undercurrent of intellectual superiority.

Jean d'Arc

Jean would stand tall, his voice unwavering as he faces the harasser. "You dare approach them in such a manner?"

He’d take a step forward, eyes burning with determination. "You will not continue this harassment. I will protect them, no matter what it takes."

"This is your last warning," he would say with a commanding tone, "Leave now, before you regret it."

William Shakespeare

With a wry smile, Shakespeare would deliver his retort in a theatrical flourish. "Thou art a fool, sir. A poor, unfortunate fool!"

His voice is laced with irony. "Do you not see the folly in your actions? I’d advise you to take your leave while there is still time for you to save face."

"For you shall not win this battle of wits," Shakespeare would say, his tone dripping with mockery, "And in this exchange, you are the one who loses."

Comte de Saint-Germain

Saint-Germain would speak in a low, controlled voice, his aristocratic tone giving him an air of superiority. "I am not one for unpleasantness, but you’ve given me no choice."

He would tilt his head, an elegant smirk on his lips. "You will leave, now. I assure you, it’s in your best interest."

If the harassment doesn’t stop, Comte's smile would turn cold. "You clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with. I suggest you correct that mistake—before I do it for you."

Sebastian

Sebastian’s tone would be smooth and polite, though there’s a dangerous edge to it. "Excuse me, sir, but I believe you’ve mistaken this person’s boundaries."

He would take a step closer, voice still calm but now carrying an unmistakable threat. "I’m sure you’ll find your behavior unwise in the end."

If the harasser continues, Sebastian would smile coldly. "I won’t repeat myself, but I do expect you to leave—immediately."

[narcoticv3nus]

Too Late to Change 𝜗𝜚 John Price

Kinktober Day XV: Cockwarming

summary: you’ve been bratty and john know the best form of punishment tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, p in v, thigh riding, cock warming, spanking, degradation, punishment, brattamer!john, bratty!reader, sub!reader, dom!john wc: 1k

MASTERLIST

“Sit still.” John’s harsh voice silenced you into complacency before his hand swung through the air, smacking against your skin as your whimper rang out throughout the room.

“M’sorry!” You whined, gripping the fabric of his shirt in your hands as you gazed up at him, hoping to gain his attention. And yet his eyes remained focused in front of him, his fingers working against the keyboard, his arms bracketing you in his lap. Your hips shifted slightly, the head of his cock pressing up against your G-spot, causing you to let out another moan. You buried your nose in his chest, hoping to muffle your noises.

"Quiet down," John muttered, his stern expression belying the slight twitch of his lips as he tried to suppress a grin at your whimpering.

"Remember your place, pet." He said firmly, squeezing your thigh lightly with his free hand. The tone in his voice was a mix of discipline and playfulness, a reminder that you were here because of your earlier behavior. Despite the situation, you couldn't help but feel a thrill coursing through you at his words. He leaned forward, his warm breath tickling your ear as he continued typing away.

"And if you want to be of any use to me, you'll keep still and do exactly as I say." He added, his thumb tracing circles over your inner thigh. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, and you bit your lip to hold back another moan.

You looked up at him through your lashes, noticing the subtle tension in his jaw. His brow furrowed as he concentrated on the computer screen.

It was clear that even though he was punishing you, he was fully committed to his work. That dedication only made you want to serve him better, to be the good girl he needed. You nodded obediently and held your breath, doing your best to remain still. But it was difficult, with every keystroke causing his cock to brush against your sensitive walls. John didn't miss your reaction, a small smile playing on his lips as he glanced down at you.

"That's better," he murmured approvingly before returning his attention to the screen. "Good girl." He rumbled, feeling your warmth envelop him fully now. He continued typing away at the computer, the screen casting an eerie blue glow upon his face. Inwardly, he was fighting off the urge to thrust into you, to claim you right there and then. The way you squirmed under his gaze only made resisting harder, but he knew this was a lesson you needed to learn.

"Feels good? Hm?" He asked, his tone even but the edge of desire evident. He knew how sensitive you were, how quickly you could come undone if he pushed harder. He wanted to hear your sweet moans of pleasure, to see you lose control in his arms. But more importantly, he wanted you to understand that your actions had consequences. That even in moments of play, there was always an underlying layer of discipline. His thumb continued its teasing circles, moving higher up your thigh until it grazed your clit, causing you to jump slightly. He smirked at your reaction, enjoying the power he held over you. "Focus, pet." He ordered, his fingers tightening around the mouse.

"Just a little longer." He reassured you, his voice low and steady, as he felt you tremble in his lap. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to give in to his desires and thrust deeper into your warmth. He could sense your frustration building, the way you bit your lip and squeezed your thighs around him, trying to hold back the impending orgasm. He knew that part of this punishment was the denial, the anticipation that came with it. But another part of him wanted to reward your obedience and stay still as he told you.

As his fingers continued working on the keyboard, he couldn't help but steal glances at your flushed face, your eyes squeezed shut, and the way your breasts rose and fell with each ragged breath you took. His resolve weakened, and his need to claim you grew stronger with every passing second.

After some time, he let out a long breath, sitting back in his seat before turning his full attention to you. He lifted your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. "You've been very patient, haven't you?" he asked, his thumb now rubbing small circles on your clit, teasing you mercilessly. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his, and he saw the raw need reflected in their depths. "Answer me," I demanded, increasing the pressure slightly.

"Yes, sir." You breathed out, your voice barely audible.

"Good girl." He praised, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. He knew you needed release and was happy to give it to you. But first, he wanted to hear you beg for it. He pulled back and met your gaze again.

"Ask me nicely, pet. Beg me to make you cum.” He raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing on his lips as he waited for your plea. His fingers continued their gentle assault on your clit, the pace unchanged, drawing out your anticipation.

His cock throbbed with each passing second, eager to buck into your tight warmth. But this was about teaching you a lesson and reinforcing your dynamic.

Your cheeks flushed even deeper, and your eyes widened as you realized what he wanted. You hesitated momentarily, then finally whispered, "Please, sir. Make me cum." Your voice was so soft that he almost didn't hear it, but the desperation was evident. That was all he needed. With a satisfied grunt, he shifted his hips, burying himself fully inside you. He started moving slowly, savoring the feeling of you wrapped around him.

Your moans grew louder as he picked up speed, each thrust more brutal than the last. "That's it. You Take it." he growled, his grip tightening on your hips. His release was building, fueled by your desperate pleas and the tightening of your muscles around him.

"You're mine." he reminded you, thrusting deeper. He felt you shudder in his arms as you reached your climax, your body tensing and then releasing in waves of pleasure. As your orgasm subsided, he allowed himself to let go, filling you up with his seed. You both sat there momentarily, catching your breaths before he gently pulled out of you and tucking himself away. "Remember this next time you decide to be bratty, pet."

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