#coming to see me for christmas and then leaving on my fucking birthday

[sk3l3t0n444]

abandonment issues go brrrrrrr

[archangeldyke-all]

Size queen Sevika has a chokehold on my mind right now so I was wondering what it would be like using the ejaculating strap on her AAA

Maybe some breeding kink thrown in there too jsksjsjsjsksk

heheheheheheheh i'm gonna make this ceo sev because i miss her!!

men and minors dni

before you were married, sevika made an effort to keep your love lives and your work lives separate-- not wanting it to seem like you had any kind of unfair advantage because of your relationship status to the ceo. your little desk was tucked in the corner of sevika's office back then, where you could eavesdrop on her meetings and make appointments and calls with her without interrupting or interfering with her work.

but now that you've tied the knot, sevika's given up on trying to pretend like you aren't her favorite employee. she's rearranged her office completely, so there's enough room for two matching desks, pushed right up against one another. it leaves no room for sevika to have visitors in her office, you guys play footsie all day, and when she looks up from her work the first thing she sees is you. she loves it.

you love it too.

but it has its drawbacks, because it means you can't hide anything from your wife. like the package you're opening right now with your name on it-- a package you'd completely forgotten about ordering-- a package containing what was supposed to be sevika's birthday present this year.

when you realize what it is-- it's too late. sevika's already seen the way you gasped and heard the little giggle you let out before quickly closing the box again.

"whatcha got, baby?" she asks, her foot reaching out to hook around your ankle.

you clear your throat and shove the package into a drawer, shaking your head. "nothing." you say. dammit. that sounds suspicious as hell.

sevika tilts her head, her gaze sharpening a bit, a smile growing on her lips. "nothing?" she asks. you huff.

"fine. it's something but i can't tell you what it is for a number of reasons."

"reasons being?"

"reasons being you have a birthday coming up and i want to surprise you and you have a meeting in half an hour that you cannot be late to."

and goddamn your wife for being so fucking smart. and so fucking pretty.

sevika's brow furrows for a moment, her eyes darting to the side as her mind races with the possibilities of what could be in the package, and you swear you can actually hear a bell go off inside her head when she perks up in her seat and looks back at you with a sparkle in her eye and a smile.

"baby..." she starts. you huff.

"sevika if you ruin your birthday present i'm not getting you ano--"

"did you get me a dildo for my birthday?" she asks fondly. you groan and kick your wife's shin, and she cackles. "you're incredible!" she laughs.

"it was supposed to be a surprise sevika, you're such an asshole." you pout.

"well lemme see!" she demands, making grabby hands across her desk.

you giggle and give up on trying to surprise your wife. it's never worked before. you pass the package across your desks, and sevika tears into it like a kid on christmas morning.

you check behind your shoulder to make sure none of your coworkers are looking through the glass walls as sevika gasps with shock. "you got me a fuckin' breeding strap?"

when you turn back around in your seat, sevika's holding the dildo box to her chest like it's a teddy bear, and there are stars in her eyes. you cackle.

"would you put that away before somebody sees you?!" you ask. sevika giggles and puts the box back inside the cardboard packaging it came in. "and to answer your question... no. i didn't." you say.

sevika blinks up at you, caught off guard. "y-you didn't?" she asks. you smirk and stand, reaching across your desk to tug your wife across hers by her tie until your lips are only a few inches apart.

"i got me a breeding strap. all you're getting is the synthetic cum i'm gonna fill you with tonight." sevika gulps and you smirk, leaning forward to kiss her parted lips. "now, i gotta go set up the conference room for your meeting, so be a good girl for me and put that away for me and look over your notes." you demand as you turn around to leave your office.

the last thing you hear before the glass door closes behind you is your wife's sweet groan.

sevika glares at you the entire meeting. she's also rock hard the entire meeting.

of course, you're the only one who notices this last part--with your hand casually palming her cock under the solid wood table the entire time; so the looks she's giving you must be incredibly confusing for your coworkers. seamus even asks you after the meeting if everything's been alright at home. you have to hold back a cackle as you assure him that things have literally never been better.

and it's true. every day you fall deeper and deeper in love with your wife. you know the same is true for her, it's proven in how fucking fast she drives home.

in the very beginning of your relationship, sevika never bottomed. but as she grew more secure in your connection, she allowed herself to be more vulnerable with you... and now, three years married, your wife's a loud and proud size queen.

she's jittery with excitement on the elevator ride up to your apartment. when you get home, she kicks her shoes off, tears off her tie, and smacks your ass as she sprints to the bathroom. "you put your dick on, i'll go get ready!!" she giggles.

you snort, your heart swelling with fondness as you wander to the bedroom and begin getting ready.

the dildo's a little tricky to figure out, and you have to research if your synthetic cum is microwave safe, and how long to microwave it to make it warm enough to feel like real cum-- but by the time you're all ready, sevika's running out of the bathroom butt-naked and grinning.

she launches herself onto the bed, spreading out like a starfish on her belly as you giggle. "come on!" she says, shaking her ass a bit at you. you snort.

"you're fuckin' ridiculous." you giggle as you crawl on top of your wife. "hips up." you whisper, shoving a pillow under her hips to give her a better angle and something to grind against. she starts grinding immediately. you smack her ass and she yelps. "don't get too worked up baby. you're not allowed to cum until you milk my load outta me."

sevika shivers and claws the blankets beneath her. "f-fuck." she stutters. you giggle and reach your hand forward, shoving two fingers in her mouth.

"get 'em wet for me, love." you demand. sevika's lips and tongue wrap around your fingers immedietly, soft moans and squelches starting to fill the room as sevika bobs her head on your hand like it's a cock. it's hot as fuck, and you can't help yourself from reaching down and sucking a hickey into her shoulder as she gets you ready for her. "god, you're perfect."

sevika shivers again, a little whine escaping her and tickling your fingers with the vibrations. with your free hand, you start groping her ass, teasing her hole without penetrating, getting her worked up and arching into your touch.

when she's just panting around your fingers-- sucking completely forgotten-- you decide that she's ready for you.

she takes your spit soaked fingers with ease, muffling her whimper into her folded arms. you let her get away with hiding her sounds for now-- in a few minutes you'll have her screaming, anyways.

when two fingers become three you know she's ready.

"you hear how wet your hole is for me? haven't even put my cock in you yet-- you're such a slut, baby."

"i'd be more of a slut if i had your dick in me." she mumbles.

you cackle and smack her ass again. sevika huffs a little laugh at her own joke, and you pick that moment to slide your cock in her.

she sputters, squeaks, and then groans so loud you're pretty sure the walls shake. "good?" you ask.

sevika's too busy gasping and trying to smack her hips back on yours to answer, so she shoots you a thumbs up over her shoulder. you laugh again, sink your nails into her hips, and start fucking her like she deserves.

for a while, it's just grunts and gasps and moans and kissing sounds. you re-adjust a few times, trying to find a good position and rhythm, until you're basically mounting her, buried balls deep in her and pounding her into the mattress.

you can always tell when you're fucking sevika right because her whole left leg starts to spasm, from thigh to toes. it's cute as hell-- she has no control over it-- and it makes you want to fucking ruin her. you growl when her calf starts quivering, reaching forward and grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head out of her arms.

"fuck!" sevika cries. "f-fuck you fuck me so good, what the fuck?" she babbles.

she looks delicious beneath you, her strong back writhing as she squirms on the bed.

"i'm gonna knock you up." you grunt, smacking her ass. sevika whines. "you're so fuckin' good sevika, gonna fill you with my cum 'n fuck you til it takes-- give you my fuckin' kids."

"fuck, stop talkin' like that or you'll make me cum!" she whines. you snort. she's trying so hard to be good and wait for you to cum like you told her to, but she's so easy when you start talking about breeding her.

"thought you were gonna be good?" you ask, clawing at sevika's ass.

"i'm trying but you're-- fuck! there!-- fucking me too good!" she cries.

you giggle. "well, then, you better hurry up 'n make me cum before you do, baby."

sevika flails around for a few seconds, reaching out to try and reach your body from where you've mounted her, but she's basically pinned beneath you. she groans in frustration, lets out a tiny moan, and then takes a big breath.

"p-please cum in me." she whines. it's your turn to shiver. her voice is just so pathetic and sweet, and you can feel the tension in her body from the way she's trying to keep herself from cumming-- like a rubber band ready to snap. "please, please cum in me-- you're so fuckin' big, you're so deep, i know it'll work-- you'll knock me up this time, i know it-- i want your cum-- i want your kids-- baby ple--" sevika cuts herself off with a gasp as you start to cum, grinding against her ass as you squeeze the little pump you'd hooked in your harness.

"f-fuck, take it baby--" you pull out just for a moment, just to see the way your cum leaks out of her ass, just to spurt a few drops on her lower back-- and that's all it takes for sevika to fall apart.

you laugh as she cries and cums into the blankets, sinking yourself back inside her hole and giving her the rest of the cum loaded in your dick.

"it's warm." she whimpers.

you heave a breath and then burst into giggles. "microwaved it for you."

this makes sevika giggle too. "that was way more cum than any healthy human should be producing." she cackles. you giggle.

sevika's thighs are drenched in the sticky substance, and you're sure when you pull out the mess will only get worse. still though. "that was hot as fuck." you mumble.

sevika grins. "best birthday gift ever." she agrees. you snort and smack her ass one more time-- just for good measure.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[bellamoooon]

A/N: So…Patrick’s sister, this was supposed to be shorter but I uh…I got carried away, enjoy anyway!! <33

As patricks sister, you always understood the dynamic; Patrick is the overprotective annoying older brother and you are the nerdy—he says— younger sister.

So obviously, growing up with him was an interesting experience to say the least.

Before going to MRTA, he’d usually bring his friends over after school, and of course you being the pretty little thing you are, they’d always joke around about how Patrick’s sister was hot, (literally average twelve year old when they see any female) and well Patrick, Patrick was pissed, so this is when the golden rule—he calls it— came in.

Patrick’s sister is off-limits.

Which eventually stopped being a big deal when he left for MRTA, since you’d only see him for holidays and breaks, and you didn��t really get to meet any of his friends.

Then Art comes into Patrick’s life; Bunkmates since they were twelve, both in their first year away from home.

For the first summer break, Patrick left to go to your family’s lake house with you and your parents, and Art went back home to visit his nana, he knew his parents would most likely be away working—as per usual.

But he actually finds out that his nana had already been sent to a retirement home 15 minutes out of his home town, so he visited every couple of days during that summer even though his nana kept telling him, “Artie, you don’t have to visit an antique like me, go be a kid, enjoy your summer” however he insisted in staying around her to keep company.

So when they get back, Patrick “loud mouth” Zweig rants to Art about his summer, and Art simply nods thinking about how he’d most likely stay in the academy next summer, not like he had much to go back to at home.

Fast forward a couple of months, it’s Christmas; Art is helping Patrick pack last minute when there’s a knock at the door, then they hear a feminine voice.

“Come on dickwad, mom and dad are waiting in the car”

Patrick groaned as he started to shove his things into his bag, then looking back at art as he folded some of Patrick’s shirts.

“Hey, Donaldson, mind getting the door? It’s my fuck ass sister” he said casually as he grabbed the shirts from Art.

“Sure” Art mumbled not thinking much, only trying to imagine a female Patrick behind the door, seeing as he’s never met you, so there he goes, he opens the door and finds—not a female Patrick— but the prettiest girl he’d seen just standings there in the most angelic way.

“Hey…?”

“Art, it’s uh— my name is Art” he’s stumbling over his own words in the stupidest way possible.

“What kind of name is Art? Are you like an Arthur or something?” He cringes internally but before he can answer Patrick pushes past him.

“It’s just Art, leave him alone, he’s my best friend, only I can make fun of him, find one yourself, kid” Patrick speaks as he walks out the door with his things then turns to Art, “going home for Christmas, Donny?”

Art despised that nickname, the tips of his ears went red as his whole face flushed, but he shook his head.

“My parents said they won’t be able to make for Christmas and I— I don’t want to worry my nana so…” he said shyly and a bit disappointed but, they were the same parents that had forgotten his birthday a year ago and days later brought a cake that said “happy 14th birthday” when he was turning 12.

“Awe…that sucks man, I’ll talk to my parents, you can tag along with us to our lake house next summer”

And that’s how the tradition all started, every summer, Art would spend it with Patrick’s parents, you and Patrick at the lake house, which gave him enough time to catch a little something his nana called a Lovebug, essentially, his was crushing hard.

But of course, there was the golden rule— totally off-limits.

And Art was…fine with it, it’s not like you’d ever like him back, he was probably just “Patrick’s quiet best friend” to you.

Little did he know…

Then fast forward a couple years later, coincidentally, you would also be going to Stanford without actually knowing Art had already been there for a year.

And Stanford was full of frat parties, Halloween costume parties and in general, any party within a 10 mile radius.

And you, pretty little freshman had been invited to a frat party by one of the juniors in your econ class, and I mean, you can’t be rude, right? You have to go.

So, you do.

You wind up in a frat house with a shit ton of people, some cigarette smoke and, a whole bunch of red disposable cups, so why not grab one, what’s the worst thing it could have in it, beer probably?

Wrong.

Something that to you tasted exactly what rubbing alcohol smelled like, so it goes straight from the cup to your mouth then back to the cup as you cringe letting out a single dry cough.

“You alright there?” A gentle voice popped up from behind you, familiar but you couldn’t quite tell, but as you turn there he is; Art fucking Donaldson. With a backwards red Stanford cap and a grey Stanford hoodie.

Oh.

“Oh— Art…hey” you chuckle softly still smelling the mysterious alcohol from your mouth.

“This isn’t quite your scene, huh?” He spoke as he took a sip from his cup with that goddamn side smirk of his.

“Yeah— no, I mean, I’ve been to parties, fun, fun parties. And this, this is so my scene” you rambled nervously, it was already embarrassing enough you, a freshman was at a frat party with a pretty floral skirt and a crochet sweater.

“Really? Oh…then have fun, fun girl” he laughed as he lifted his cup a bit towards you to then walk away.

Fuck it. You were gonna get wasted.

And so, that you did; Somehow ending up in just a soaked tank top, a soaked skirt, hair dripping water and, squeaky wet shoes as you stumbled out of the pool from the backyard.

“Hey, watch it—“ Art turned as he felt your body bump against his, “oh it’s you, fun girl.” He giggled as he saw you, clearly too drunk to even know what was going on, and he could’ve just laugh it off and get back to the party, but Art wasn’t like that, and specially not to you, you’re such a pretty little thing all wasted and soaked past midnight, plus, you were Patrick’s sister. He had to.

So he said his goodbyes and grabbed you as you both walked out of the frat to go back to campus.

“So tell me, miss Zweig, how does one, as drunk as you, not drown in a pool?” He said as he saw you hold onto his arm for dear life trying not to trip, which might have just dug up something he had buried years ago.

“Y’know, im fun, and this is so my people” you said looking up at him—just barely— as you let out a hiccup.

He blushed as he heard it, clearly it was your first time getting drunk drunk, adding on to the wet hair and your shivering body,

“Right, fun girl, my bad” he chuckled “come on you’re shivering, here” he pulled his hoodie off as he handed it to you, “can’t let you catch a cold, how else will you go to your next party, miss fun girl”

“Thank you, Artie.” You said as you grabbed the hoodie sliding it over your head feeling the warmth it carried from Arts body, accompanied by the faint smell of his cologne.

Meanwhile, Art was feeling like his spine had just been ripped out; Artie.

You hadn’t called him that since the summers at the lake house, where he had attempted and failed to forget his crush on you.

“Yeah— I uh…yeah” he blushed even harder as he fumbled his words not knowing how to react.

You just shut your eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne to then open them up, there you were, doe eyed looking at him, in his hoodie, hair soaked as you unconsciously made it harder for him to be a good friend to Patrick, he felt horrible.

Not only did the disgusting thought of wanting to fuck you against his jeep popped into his head, this is Patrick’s sister he’s fantasizing about.

“Come on— I uh, I gotta get you back on campus” he cleared his throat as he looked away avoiding your stare.

“You’re no fun anymore, Artie…” a pout made itself present as you took a step closer, your hands landing on his shoulders, “come on, Donny…”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Patrick would kill me, you know that.”

“I won’t tell”

He wasn’t proud of himself for turning back to look at you, but you were just so pretty, lucky he didn’t have a boner, if he hadn’t given you the hoodie to cover your very visible nipples against the tank top, he’d probably have you bent over his cars hood.

“I really— I can’t…” he mumbled, his face inches away from yours, noses brushing against each other.

“You sure?” You whispered as you stared down at his lips, “not just this once?”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, well…there goes his willpower, he was in too deep already.

Next thing he knows, you’re riding him in the backseat of his car, all flushed, tits out, him whimpering as he dug his fingers into your hips holding on for dear life throwing his head back, and windows all fogged up.

Yeah, he was so screwed.

He will most definitely be breaking the golden rule for…well, let’s just say it’s not a one time thing.

[opiopal]

random mc stuff that I dont want to be their own post so HERE WE GO.(a lot if not most of theses are cracked out lmao)

imagine an Mc who noticed certain dirty things in the HOL and REALLY wanted to something about it but couldn't cause they were still a stranger. so once all the pacts are made Mc immediately goes around the HOL and attacks all the spots that bug them.. and isn't afraid to vocalize their complaints. "lucifer, when was the last time you guys washed these curtains?? you know what, don't answer that, I can already tell that the last time these were washed I hadn't even been born yet." "who is in charge of sweeping?? there is so much dirt under these rugs!! common guys, seriously???" "Mammon, Levi, twins.. I love you guys SO much.. this is commmon knowledge at this point... but cleaning your pillow cases is NOT enough you NEED to also wash the pillow itself. you guys are gross. gather up your pillows we're doing a soak." "beel. come here and lift me up. I'm dusting the chandelier." "Lucifer, I do not CARE if you're working right now your shelves are littered with dust. either ignore me or go take a break because I'm not leaving."

once during breakfast the brothers could hear cerberus growling and grumbling in the basement, it was annoying but they were trying to ignore it until they realized Mc wasn't at the table.... which of course once it was pointed out they all rushed to the basement.. only to find cerberus laying on its back and Mc sitting above it and quickly rubbing and scratching under each heads chins while going "good boys!!!! good puppy!!!!" and cerberus very happily whining and grumbling with their tail thumping on the ground. when they manage to get Mc away from the silly, the only explanation mc gives it "there is a massive three headed dog that lives in the basement and is feared by 6 out of the 7 men who live here, how could I NOT pet them??? clearly no one but lucifer does!!"

imagine an Mc who is a selective mute, and normally communicates through ASL and notes. the first time they talk is after knowing the brothers for a GOOD amount of time, and its not a sweet wholesome moment no no. Mc comes home with Lucifer after they finished running errands, and the HOL had been: flooded by levi summoning lotan, the living room had been torn up by satan, the kitchen was in pieces because beel got hangry, asmo had joined in on the chaos after his bedroom got damaged as well, mammon was struggling to keep everyone together, and belphie was sleeping on a chandelier. of couse it dies down the moment they all see lucifer and mc got home, and before lucifer could say anything Mc threw their ars up and went "guys what the FUCK we've hardly been gone for an hour!!" of course all the chaos is forgotten for a second and replaced by multiple "YOUCANTALK?!"s, which then shock and amazement turned to shame as they realize the first time they were graced by Mc's voice was because they were being idiots and Mc was upset at them.

imagine an Mc who isn't really used to people caring all that much about them, and finds it very odd that the brothers+other characters care so much. so once their birthday comes around its turned into a birthday WEEK because Mc is being gifted things and being taken out everyday until their actual birthday, which BAFFLES them, so when their birthday comes its a huge event, Dia hosts the party at his castle, there are so many presents you'd think it would be for a family of 18 on christmas day. and when Mc is sat infront of their cake they can't help but suddenly start crying, while everyone is panicking the only thing Mc can say is "I-*hic*- love you guys so much!!" once they realized it was happy tears there was much less panic, and it was forgotten about for the rest of the evening.

You guys remember my post about pacts marks and Mc feeling a demons sin really strongly after making a pact with them??? well this relates to that. imagine if mc feels something strongly that sin kind of takes over for a while until mc is satisfied (asmo enjoyers do what you want with that info), so imagine: theres just a day were Mc doesn't get the chance to eat, first they slept in and just had to rush to RAD, then they had to skip lunch because they agreed to help a few clubs with advertising and projects, then they had to stay after for a student council meeting, then, just as they think they can maybe grab a snack they get held up again, by the time everyone is going home all the brothers can sense Mc's aggression, half way to the HOL lucifer says that they should just go eat at hells kitchen. so they're all seated, and the second Mc's food gets out they dont even bother with utensils, they just grab their food with their bare hands and eat like they're a starved dog. of course the brothers are concerned as to why they're acting like this, and mammon reaches to put a hand on Mc's shoulder as he says "hey- are you ok-" but he cant even finish talking before Mc jerks their head and nearly takes a few of his fingers off, though they dont bite him cause he moves away fast enough with a "EEP" and Mc's teeth loudly click together. so from then on the brothers make sure that Mc is able to eat something throughout the day if their schedule is packed to reduce the risk of losing fingers. honorable mention is Mc getting praised to much one day that the amount of pride they feel almost puts lucifer into a coma.(satan and belphie sometimes praise Mc a bunch to distract lucifer while he's working, another cheeky win for the anti lucifer league)

imagine an Mc who gets so over protective of the brothers, like CRAZY protective. there is a point were they hear someone talking SHIT about their found family trope, so ofc the reasonable reaction is to tackle the demon down to the ground and almost bite their ear off like some sort of rabid raccoon. another time Mc squares up with some sort of magical mythical beast in protection of the brothers, almost won and would have if the brothers didn't stop them.

imagine an Mc who is very introverted and is secretly a fanfic writer, so one day levi and Mc are hanging out, he's just rambling about whatever, until he eventually mentions that a fic he was reading hasn't gotten updated in a while and ist just so frustrating to him. when Mc asks which fic he was reading, he pull it up and shows them... which Mc realizes thats THEIR fic... and outloud without thinking they mumble "oohh I forgot about that one..." and levi freaks out and immediately is questioning what they mean by that. which they eventually have to admit it.

Imagine a little kid Mc, I mean like, LITTLE, as in like 7-8 yr. and they are just such a sweeite, and they work so hard. but I can also imagine that when they're first sent there and the introductions are happening, when lucifer introduces himself Mc immediately interupts and goes "lucifer?? like the cat from Cinderella?:0" and then ofc when mammon is assigned to take care of the child he is a lot nicer at first, I wouldn't be surprised if having Mc around reminded him of his younger siblings when they were that small,(yes I am a believer of the brothers being at least little kids at some point in their angel lives) but then eventually gets Mc to go along with a few schemes, which they both have fun cause really it just turns into bonding. then ofc asmo adores this little creature and has little dress up parties and helps Mc get ready for school in the morning so they always look their best!! lucifer gave him permission for this since he agrees that Mc should look put together despite being a child. I still think it takes a while for the brothers to warm up fully to Mc, but it goes by a lot faster since mc quickly becomes their new little sibling. I think it would be cute if what won over lucifer is Mc coming into his office at some point, saying that they have something for him, and gives him a drawing, lucifer ends up scooping them up to sit with him and they explain what they drew, and its mc and all the brothers:( that drawing is almost immediately framed and put up where everyone can see it.

thats all for now, but I have a LOT of Mc what if's and imagines, my fingers hurt from typing now lol.

[emlovessid]

@into-the-jeggyverse for the bingo prompt hide and seek, 665 words bingo masterpost

Dating your best friend's brother is great. Until you break up.

Because unlike other break ups, where you never have to see them again, there's no escaping them when they're – you guessed it – your best friend's brother. You see them at birthdays and pub trivia and Christmas.

And dinner on a random Thursday evening in October.

Dinner itself had been fine, James sitting next to Remus and Regulus sitting next to Sirius, Teddy a delightful and welcome buffer between them all.

"Alright, Teddy. Count to ten and then you come find us, okay?" Sirius says, ruffling his hair.

Covering his eyes with his small hands, Teddy begins to count, "One, two, three…" and they all scatter.

James makes a beeline straight for the hallway closet where Sirius and Remus keep their coats and umbrellas. He's just gotten settled, sitting down cross-legged in the space, when the closet door opens and Jesus Christ—

"Oh, shit. Sorry," Regulus says, eyes looking everywhere but at James.

He steps back and is seemingly about the close the door again when they hear Teddy shout from the kitchen, "Ready or not, here I come!"

Their eyes are both wide as they meet, before Regulus makes a split second decision and steps into the closet beside James and closing the door on them both.

James isn't sure whether he wants to laugh or cry. Maybe both.

It's one thing to be amicable with your ex from a distance, when there's other people around and you don't actually have to interact with them beyond a polite hello and goodbye. But it's a completely different scenario to be sitting in an enclosed space with your ex, your side pressing up against a body you still know like the back of your hand, even though you have no right to.

"Sorry," Regulus says eventually, his voice quiet. "I heard Ted and I panicked."

Chuckling, he says, "Can you imagine the horror? Losing hide and seek to a four year old."

"Oh, piss off," he laughs.

And just like that the tension between them breaks, the air around them feeling less heavy. It almost feels like they're them again.

"This feels like old times, eh? You and me, both in the closet," James says and immediately regrets it, cringeing at his own joke.

"Wow, that was bad, even for you."

"I know. Please forget I said anything," he groans.

"Gladly."

They're quiet again for a moment, Teddy's voice distant as it travels from the other end of the house.

"It does kind of feel like old times though, you cooking tonight. God, I've missed your carbonara," James says with a wistful sigh.

He's not expecting Regulus to respond with, "I miss you folding my laundry. I've never been able to get the t-shirts right."

He should leave it at that, but his mouth is already moving and the words are tumbling out, "I miss your shampoo, it always smelled better than mine." This is where he should really, really stop talking, but the words just won't stop, rolling off his tongue before his brain has even registered what he's about to say. "I miss how you'd bite my lip when we made out. The noises you'd make while I was fucking y—"

He's cut off by lips on his, a warm weight in his lap as Regulus throws a leg over him to straddle his waist. James doesn't waste any time reciprocating, hands settling on Regulus' hips as he licks into his mouth. The moan he lets out as Regulus bites down on his bottom lip is obscene, all thoughts of the game of hide and seek they're actively playing wiped from his mind as his hands slide down to grip Regulus' arse through his jeans.

And then the closet door opens.

Teddy is giggling as he shouts, "Found you!"

But Teddy's excitement is overshadowed by his dads standing behind him; Remus laughing and Sirius shaking his head as he mutters, "I fucking knew it!"

[rxqueenotd]

damnatio memoriae: PART V

In the Roman world, damnatio memoriae was used to describe a range of actions taken against former leaders and their reputations. These actions included: defacing visual depictions, removing heads from public statues, chiseling names off inscriptions, and destroying coins.

summary: reader, who goes by 'Prima', was raised by a powerful Roman consul, under the reign of Imperator Septimius Severus. When it comes time for his eldest son, Caracalla, to marry again, a chain of events is set off, changing the course of Prima's life and the lives around her.

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warnings: blood, knife play (?), foul language, pnv penetration, BDSM-ish situations, bloodletting, wlw, drug use, digital penetration, Ancient Rome as a warning within itself.

notes: there are 12,437 words in this chapter alone. I would apologize for not posting for a month, but as you can see, I have been cooking. Made it through Christmas, Hanukkah, my birthday, new years, the fucking dystopian US election, got accepted back to college to try for my bachelors in a totally different sphere than the degree I already hold and let a Leo man take me for a ride all within thirty days so if this chapter is not to your liking, lie to me and tell you love it anyways. As always, thanks to @trashmouth-richie for listening to my ramblings and feeding me words of encouragement. You are my brotha for life. And to @londonfog-chan for putting up with my perpetual absence as I’ve been riding the rollercoaster that has been January. This chapter has been a labor of love but I think it might be my favorite so far. Enjoy!

V

Caracalla departed hastily, leaving you alone after taking you against the wall, his voice ringing with authority as he barked commands to his guards as he exited your chambers. He was intent on visiting a local taberna, and you felt a twinge of sympathy for the patrons and the staff of the venue of his choosing. The thought of anyone crossing his path in such a foul mood stirred a sense of unease within you, for you knew the trouble that often accompanied him in such a state.

Sleep found you swiftly, even after the events you had endured. You weren’t sure how long you had slept when your chamber door creaked open, revealing Caracalla’s silhouette in the doorway. He lurched inside, bracing himself against the wall as he swayed, then marched toward the bed with determination.

Hastily, he tore his tunic over his head, tossing it aside with little care, followed by his jewels, which he flung onto the chaise beside the bed. Once fully undressed, he climbed in beside you, rolling onto his side to mirror your position. The scent of wine clung to him as he pulled you closer, clumsily reaching for the hem of your sleeping gown to lift it from your body. You arched and moved as needed, assisting him in his endeavor. When you were laid bare before him, he drew you closer into his embrace, his hand grasped your thigh to drape it over his own. You inhaled sharply as his lips brushed over the tender bite mark he had left upon you, remaining still, wary that such a simple gesture might provoke him or send him into a fit of rage.

He nestled his head beneath your chin, pressing your body as close to his as possible, his breath settled into a steady rhythm as he relaxed.

“Tell me you love me.” His hoarse voice spoke softly against the column of your throat.

You sighed, thinking of a million things you would rather say.

“Tell me, Prima,” he leaned up, untucking his head, blue eyes piercing yours, “tell me you love me.”

“Lucius-,” you started, but stopped when a small smile cracked across his lips, a light chuckle falling out from behind them.

“Lucius,’” he parroted back to you, followed by his signature giggle, “it has been ages since I have been called that.”

You let a silence descend around the two of you, hoping he would drop the matter entirely, but he continued to stare at you expectantly.

“I love you. Now please go to sleep.”

With that he was content to reposition himself, breath reaching a steady rhythm against the tender flesh of your neck.

You found yourself thinking that perhaps this was why he surrounded himself with courtesans, like a collection of soothing melodies for his restless soul. Each woman a different remedy for his erratic moods. Then you realized that it mattered not, that they were gone, and the only thing left in their wake was you. A blessing and a curse. A heavy feeling swept over you, followed by a bout of light sleep.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

You awakened on your back, entirely naked, a thin linen sheet barely covering your form. Sunlight streamed in from the balcony, and you swiftly shielded your eyes, groaning at the brightness that pierced your sleepy vision. Heavy footfalls approached, and the sheet was suddenly yanked away.

“My father summoned you an hour past,” Caracalla declared bluntly. “Yet you lie here, sprawled out like a weary whore.”

You groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

“Leave me be to awaken properly,” you murmured, your voice muffled against the fabric.

“That is not possible,” he replied, reaching down to roll you over, pinching your nipple as he dragged you upright.

You yelped, swatting his hand away. He chuckled, a sound both throaty and high-pitched, echoing through your bedchamber as he backed away, holding the sheet with both hands.

You sat upright, narrowing your eyes at him. “Give me that,” you snapped, lunging forward to grab the sheet.

He sidestepped, holding it just out of reach with a smirk. “And here I thought you would be more gracious this morning.”

Ignoring his teasing, you reached again, this time managing to snag the edge of the fabric. With one sharp tug, you pulled it free from his grip, wrapping it around yourself as you stood.

“Out,” you commanded, pointing toward the door.

“Such gratitude for waking you,” he replied mockingly, backing away to give you space to get yourself together, ignoring your command.

You secured the sheet around your body and moved quickly to your wardrobe. You grabbed a plain linen robe, slipping it over your shoulders and tying it at the waist. The soft material was a stark contrast to the silk you often wore, but it would suffice.

The early morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks across the marble floor. You quickly fastened your hair into a loose knot, pinning it in place with a bronze pin. You were out of time to indulge in the laziness the morning had offered.

The hallway was cool and quiet as you stepped out, the air brushing against your skin. Caracalla joined you without a word, falling into step as you navigated the twists and turns of the private residence. The faint scent of figs and incense lingered, mingling with the distant hum of servants going about their tasks.

Inside the Imperator’s quarters, the scene was surprisingly casual. Septimius lounged on a lectus, his feet wrapped in steaming cloths, hands resting across his chest as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

Geta stood near the terrace, wrapped in a silk robe, his back to the room. Sunlight spilled in through the open curtains, highlighting the slight tilt of his head as he gazed outside. At the sound of your entrance, he turned, his eyes sliding over you and Caracalla before landing on Septimius with an indifferent look.

“Ah, there you are,” Septimius said, waving you over. His tone was light, though his eyes had a way of lingering a little too long.

You moved to the lectus across from him, sitting carefully on the edge. Caracalla stayed behind it, silent but looming, his presence as steady as a beating heart.

Geta didn’t move from his spot by the terrace. His expression gave nothing away, but the weight of his gaze lingered a moment too long before he turned back toward the sunlight. The air in the room wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t exactly friendly either- tension you’d come to expect in their presence.

Septimius leaned forward, crossing his arms with a casual air. “You know, it’s remarkable how you manage to navigate such stormy weather,” he said, his voice dripping with feigned admiration. “Not everyone can handle the complexities of family... or the occasional stormy temperament.” He chuckled lightly, but the glint in his eyes suggested he was enjoying the game.

“I am no stranger to stormy temperament,” you stated, your expression steady as you reached for a cup of wine sitting among a tray of fruits and cheese.

Septimius raised an eyebrow, his smile shifting slightly as he leaned in, clearly intrigued. “Ah, but rain can be quite the tempest, can’t it? I admire your confidence. It takes a certain... resilience to weather it.” His tone was playful, but the underlying challenge was unmistakable.

You took a sip of the wine, letting it settle before responding. “Resilience is a necessity in a world like this. One must learn to enjoy the rain, or risk being swept away.” You glanced at Geta, who seemed to be absorbing the conversation from his spot by the terrace, his expression still unreadable.

“Wise words,” Septimius replied, his voice smooth as silk. “But I must wonder—what happens when the storm grows too fierce? Do you still enjoy it, or do you seek shelter?” He leaned back slightly, his gaze intense, as if he were gauging your every reaction.

You could feel the tension in the air, but you were determined to hold your ground. “Sometimes, shelter is just an illusion. It’s better to face the storm head-on than to hide away and hope it passes.”

Septimius chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the exchange. “A bold stance, indeed. I do appreciate your spirit. It makes for quite the captivating conversation.”

“Get on with it,” Caracalla huffed from behind you, impatience dripping from his words. “What business brings us here?”

Geta turned, arms crossed tightly over his chest, glancing between Caracalla and Septimius with a look of expectation.

“You have acted like children, reckless and foolish,” Septimius began, his tone shifting as he sat up, the gravity of his words settling in the room. He fixed his gaze on Caracalla, speaking over your head, “You cavort with whores right under our noses, and the whole of Rome bears witness to your folly. The taberna you visited last night was paranoid by your presence, and this morning, the staff and patrons are buzzing with tales of your indiscretions.”

“And let me guess,” Caracalla interjected, a smirk creeping onto his face, “Your faithful hound, Macrinus, has kept you well informed of the situation.”

Macrinus appeared at the terrace, a shadowy figure emerging into the room. You realized then what had drawn Geta’s gaze.

“It seems that by merely uttering his name, I have conjured him,” Caracalla remarked with a sarcastic laugh, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama.

Macrinus raised his hands, palms outward, a sign of mock surrender. He stepped forward with careful deliberation, stopping beside the lectus where Septimius lounged. Folding his hands in front of him, he inclined his head slightly.

“I am here by request,” Macrinus said, his tone calm but firm, “not to meddle in the quarrels of the Imperial household.” He tugged the edge of his toga across his shoulder, smoothing the fabric around him.

“And yet,” Caracalla cut in, moving closer to you, his voice sharper than a soldier’s blade, “here you are.”

Geta cocked his head to one side, studying Macrinus with a faint smirk. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the rustle of fabric as Geta moved closer.

“It is at my order that he is here, brother,” Geta said, spitting the word brother like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

You turned, casting a glance over your shoulder at Caracalla. Confusion flickered across your face as your gaze darted to meet his, searching for answers in his eyes.

“What is this about?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though suspicion tugged at your tone.

“The empire needs an heir,” Septimius said sharply, his words cutting through the air like the crack of a whip. “It is your one duty—to give Rome a future. Yet here we are, without a successor, or any sign that one is to come. Is it your husband’s endless whoring that is to blame, or your taste for plotting with your maids to carry out your schemes? I know not, and frankly, I do not care. What I do know is that this cannot continue.”

His accusation hit like a slap, the air thickening around you. He had seen more than he let on, unraveling the plan you thought he had believed so easily.

“And now,” Caracalla murmured, his hand tightening on your shoulder, “you understand. He will extend the hand of favor even as he holds a dagger to your throat.”

Your jaw tightened, your gaze snapping back to Septimius. The weight of his scrutiny weighed down on you, but you met it with steel in your eyes. Whatever game he thought he played, you would not yield so easily.

“And yet, despite your shared transgressions, you two would make a match worthy of the gods themselves—if only you could cease your scheming against one another long enough to see it,” Septimius declared, his tone edged with amusement. “But because of those very transgressions, you shall both spend the remainder of the season in Baiae.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and you turned your gaze to Caracalla, whose face was a storm of fury.

“Exile?” Caracalla spat through gritted teeth. “You would exile the Augustus? The emperor of Rome?”

“How many times must I remind you,” Septimius said as he rose, his movements slow but deliberate. Geta stepped forward to steady him, while Macrinus bowed and retreated. “You are Augustus and emperor only by my will, Marcus.”

The lectus creaked as Caracalla lunged forward, but Geta steadied himself between Septimius and Caracalla, while Macrinus seized Caracalla by the shoulder, hauling him back. Amidst the sudden chaos, you realized your hand had found Caracalla’s, and his grip tightened with such ferocity that you feared your bones might snap.

Even in his weakened state, his feet swollen and discolored like a venomous wound, Septimius’s grin was sharp and unyielding.

“Perhaps a new line of succession is what Rome truly needs.” This time, his gaze did not fall on you, but on Geta, as though he had plucked the very stars from the heavens.

“You serpent!” Caracalla roared at his brother, struggling against Macrinus’s newfound hold, his voice raw with betrayal. His grip on your hand grew tighter, a reflection of his seething rage.

Geta, unmoved, merely smiled as he returned to Septimius’s side, tending to the aging emperor with practiced ease.

“Leave me,” Septimius commanded with a languid wave of his hand, his voice cold and final.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

“What ails him, exactly?” you asked at last, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the carriage. The rhythmic creaking and jolting of the wheels, each bump in the road, seemed a constant reminder of your shared exile to Baiae.

Caracalla turned his gaze to you for the first time since the journey began, his expression shadowed. “His feet swell,” he said, his tone flat. “To sizes unimaginable. They blacken, as you saw—purple and crude.” He grimaced, as if the very memory sickened him, before turning his eyes back to the window. “And then there is the plague. The dregs of it, lingering from the last campaign. The bloodletting, the vomiting. It comes and goes, but when it comes...” He trailed off, his lip curling slightly.

You grimaced at the image he painted, wondering how the truth about the Imperator had been kept so carefully concealed.

“This is your doing, you know,” Caracalla said suddenly, his voice devoid of inflection, raspy and light, as though he were stating some mundane fact.

“How do you reason that?” you asked, genuinely curious despite the sting of the accusation.

“Your very presence disturbs the balance,” he replied, his gaze fixed on the passing countryside. “And that little scheme of yours—” He turned his head slightly, though his eyes did not meet yours. “Amateur. Endearing, almost, the way you thought you had fooled us all.”

“I believe,” you said, your voice calm but firm, “that regardless of my presence, this house would have toppled under the weight of its own mistakes.”

“Do you?” he asked, tilting his head, studying you now with a glint of something between skepticism and intrigue.

“I tire of this,” you continued, your voice steady but carrying an edge of frustration. When he turned to look at you, you continued, “The endless back and forth. I wish you would decide whether you like me or loathe me.”

He laughed, his signature cackle, the corners of his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Ah, but you will come to learn, dear wife,” he said, his tone laced with sardonic amusement, “that those two are often one and the same.”

“Macrinus,” you let his name roll off your tongue as you searched your memory. “I cannot say he is familiar to me.”

“He wouldn’t be,” Caracalla replied, his voice carrying a tone of indifference. “He was a slave in the reign of Marcus Aurelius, earned his freedom in the arena.”

“An extraordinary feat,” you remarked, glancing at him. “And his influence upon your father? What of that?”

Caracalla shrugged, shifting lower against the cushioned bench, his gaze wandering to the hills rolling past the window. The faint scent of cypress filtered into the carriage through the open slits. Outside, the road stretched ahead, bordered by rows of olive trees.

“The Garmantian campaign,” he began, his voice heavy with recollection. “A few years ago. Macrinus advised my father then. His blood ties him to that land, or so he claims—descended from those desert tribes.”

You nodded, studying him as the sunlight flickered over his pallid features. He turned back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if wondering whether you deserved to know more.

“I led my first unit there,” he continued, almost reluctantly. “Macrinus was at my side. Geta—useless as ever—remained with father, an onlooker on a high ridge above the battle. A coward in all but name.” His lips curled into a sardonic smile. “He spent the rest of his time hidden away with the other scribes and so-called strategists, poring over scrolls instead of wielding a sword. A fitting place for him—among the weak and the overcautious.”

“He—” You shook your head, the words catching in your throat. You tried to push the thought away, to banish it to the shadows of your mind. But Caracalla was not one to let things lie.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice low and sharp, like the scrape of a blade against stone. He leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto you as he reached out, fingers closing around your wrist with an iron grip. You reflexively tried to pull away, but his strength overpowered yours, dragging your hand back into his grasp.

“He is the one who told me about your courtesans,” you confessed, the words spilling out before you could reconsider. Your eyes darted anywhere but to his face, tracing the fine carvings on the wooden frame of the carriage, the dusty light filtering through its windows. “He showed me where you were that night—the last night you spent with them. I... I watched for a while, but I left when I had seen enough.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you. Then, with a snarl of disgust, he flung your hand aside, as if the very touch of you burned. His fist slammed into the roof of the carriage with such force that the wood creaked in protest, the sound echoing around you like a thunderclap.

“Stop!” he barked, his voice cut through the air. The driver obeyed instantly, pulling the horses to an abrupt halt. The jolt threw you forward, your palms bracing against the edge of the seat as the wheels ground to a halt on the gravel road.

You watched as Caracalla flung the carriage door open with a force that made the hinges groan. In a single, fluid motion, he bounded down the steps and onto the packed gravel. Two guards immediately stepped forward, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, their faces unreadable but watchful.

Alarmed, you slid closer to the window, gripping its edge. “What are you doing? What madness is this?”

“Horse!” he roared, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the countryside like a war cry. Moments later, a white stallion was led into view by a nervous stablehand, its mane gleaming like ivory under the midday sun.

You leaned farther out, your voice urgent. “Have you lost your senses? What has gotten into you?”

He ignored you, mounting the stallion with the practiced ease. From atop the horse, he turned his gaze back to you—a look of pure disdain etched into his face.

“I will see you in Baiae,” he spat, his tone laced with venom. Without waiting for a reply, he spurred the stallion into motion.

You could only watch as the beast surged forward, its hooves pounding against the earth, kicking up a cloud of dust that swirled in the air long after it had gone. The guards scrambled to follow, their own horses hurriedly prepared, but Caracalla was already disappearing into the horizon, leaving behind the echo of his fury.

Inside the now-emptied carriage, the silence pressed down on you, broken only by the distant cries of cicadas and the soft rustle of the olive trees.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Caracalla stayed gone for three days. On the third night, he finally returned, stumbling into the villa, drunker than a deckhand. His tunic was crooked, his hair disheveled, and he reeked of wine.

“Did you have fun while I sat alone?” you asked, not bothering to glance up from the scroll in your hands.

He stopped mid-stride, squinting at you with furrowed brows. His eyes landed on you, stretched out on the lectus, one foot dangling off the edge, your toes curling lazily as if you hadn’t a care in the world.

“You’re never alone,” he said flatly, his voice slurred, the sour tang of wine thick in the air around him.

“True,” you replied with a shrug, “but that is not the point.”

You rolled up the scroll with a sharp snap, the sound echoing through the atrium like a whip crack.

“Where have you been?” you demanded, your voice cutting through the quiet. “We were sent here for one reason: for me to conceive. Not for you to run around town acting like a whoring drunkard.”

You knew full well where he had been. Metella had been your eyes for the first two days, tailing him to the seedier corners of the city—brothels, taverns, gambling dens. By the third day, her reports were unnecessary. The smell of him now told you enough. Meanwhile, Cassia had stayed behind to tend to you, watching as you fumed, pacing the villa with balled fists.

Caracalla’s mouth twisted into a smirk, his flushed face shining in the lamplight. “You’ve grown bold, haven’t you?” he said, his tone mocking as he leaned against a marble column for balance. “What is it, cara mea? Have you grown bored of the luxury and servants here that you now pass the time by scolding me?”

You stood from the lectus, smoothing your stola with deliberate calm, the sound of the fabric brushing against the mosaic floor louder than it should have been.

“Luxury?” you snapped, stepping closer until you could see the hazy glaze in his eyes. “Do not mistake my patience for contentment. While you waste our time and fortune, the empire waits. Rome waits. You were sent here to do your duty, not to disgrace yourself in taverns and brothels. Or would you prefer I send word to Rome that Caracalla has no interest in producing heirs? That he remains flaccid?”

His smirk faded, and his hand shot out, gripping your wrist. It wasn’t rough, but it was firm enough to send a message. “You tread dangerous ground,” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

“And so do you,” you shot back, refusing to flinch. “But unlike you, I know how to keep my balance.”

For a long moment, the two of you stared at each other, the tension stretching thin. Then, his grip loosened, and he let your wrist fall.

“Fine,” he muttered, brushing past you, his steps uneven as he headed toward his quarters. “I’ll do what is required. But do not think for a moment you control me.”

You stood there in the silence, your wrist tingling where his hand had been. When his footsteps faded, you let out a slow breath, your face hardening.

It was only a moment later that you heard the sharp whinny of a horse and the steady thud of hooves on sand. With a grunt, you hauled yourself to the balcony, gripping the iron railing as you leaned out. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you spotted Caracalla, riding off into the darkening horizon. He was headed straight for the heart of the night’s chaos—the very center of hedonism and excess.

Hurling yourself from the railing, your bare feet slipping across the cool floor, you swiftly secured your sandals, the straps biting into your skin as you hurried down to the atrium. At the grand doorway, two guards stood at attention.

“Ready my horse,” you commanded, your voice firm as you draped the light folds of your palla loosely around your neck, a gesture that spoke of both urgency and authority.

One of the guards faltered, his eyes widening as though struck dumb by your words. “Do your ears fail you?” you snapped, your tone sharpened with impatience. “I said, ready my horse!”

“My lady, you cannot ride into the city,” the elder of the two guards replied, his voice steady though his posture betrayed hesitation. The younger guard straightened, his eyes darting nervously around, as if afraid to meet your gaze for long. “It is unseemly for one of your rank to travel without accompaniment, let alone on horseback.”

You closed your eyes, drawing a measured breath before exhaling sharply, a brisk sigh of exasperation.

“If you wish for the household slaves to find your corpse in the ocean and your head upon the beach come dawn, then by all means, ignore my command.”

The elder guard hesitated, his jaw tightening briefly before he turned on his heel, striding with purpose through the atrium and vanishing through the side passage that led to the stables.

The younger guard remained rooted in place, attempting to maintain composure. You began pacing the mosaic-tiled floor, your sandals echoing softly in the vast space as your hands twisted together. Frustration burned within you, like a wildfire sweeping through dry plains, all encompassing, devastating.

When the elder guard reappeared in the doorway, you strode past him without a word. Outside, the pale horse stood waiting. With practiced grace, you swung onto its back, dismissing the guard's offered hand as though it were an insult.

“I never intended to ride into the city alone, Praetorian,” you said, casting a sharp glance down the bridge of your nose at him. “The two of you will accompany me—if you can keep up.”

Without waiting for a reply, you tightened your grip on the reins and urged the horse forward. The stallion responded instantly, surging into motion as the dull nudge of your sandal found its mark against its flank.

The night wind tore at your palla as the world became a blur of shadow and moonlit sand. The rhythmic thud of hooves against the earth echoed like a battle drum. The roar of the distant sea mingled with the hiss of sand kicked up in your wake, but you paid it no mind.

Glancing back, you caught sight of the two Praetorians scrambling to mount their own steeds. Their movements seemed clumsy compared to your own, and you allowed yourself a fleeting smirk of satisfaction. If they meant to follow, they would have to earn their place at your side.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Baiae stretched out before you as the horse’s hooves hit cobblestone. The city shimmered even in the moonlight, its white marble villas gleaming like polished pearls, their red-tiled roofs descending toward the sea. Steam rose in ghostly plumes from the famed baths, filling the air with the smell of sulfur and salt.

As you rode deeper, the streets grew narrower, lined with colonnades that framed courtyards filled with flickering oil lamps. Laughter spilled out from wine-soaked feasts, the hymns of a lyre mingling with the rhythmic clapping of dancers. Even at this late hour, Baiae did not sleep.

To your right, the black expanse of the sea was alive with reflected light, where torch-lit barges and private vessels floated lazily. Beyond them, the looming shadow of Mount Vesuvius stood silent. The Praetorians, ever watchful, followed your lead as you turned down a quieter street, away from the bustle of the forums and toward the private quarter. The hum of activity dimmed, replaced by the presence of towering gates and high walls.

You slowed your horse as the entrance to your destination came into view—a grand domus perched high on a hill. The vast bronze gates were adorned with intricate mouldings of Neptune and his trident, and from beyond them came the faint sound of water cascading into a central atrium fountain. You had been here before, as a child, remembering its purpose and what you had witnessed of its opulence.

This was not the domain of commoners but of those whose power carried the fortunes of Rome itself.

“Guard the gate,” you instructed, your tone leaving no room for argument. You handed the reins to a waiting slave and stepped forward, the weight of the night’s purpose settling on your shoulders.

You paused at the gates of the grand domus, but before you could step forward, the elder Praetorian dismounted and approached, his expression unreadable.

“My lady,” he began cautiously, his voice low to avoid drawing the attention of the slaves nearby. “This is not where you will find him.”

Your gaze snapped to his, sharp and questioning. “Explain yourself.”

The Praetorian’s jaw tightened. “He…” The words hung uneasily in the air, “He resides elsewhere in Baiae—at an establishment by the lower harbor.”

You studied him for a moment, noting the flicker of discomfort in his demeanor. Finally, you gave a nod. “Then you will lead me there. Now.”

“As you command, Domina,” he said, bowing slightly before striding back to his horse. The younger Praetorian exchanged a nervous glance with you before following suit.

Once mounted, the elder guard took the lead, guiding you down winding streets that grew increasingly narrow and shadowed. The splendor of Baiae began to give way to a more primal energy. The laughter was harsher, the music seductive. The lower harbor stretched out before you. Tabernas and brothels clustered together, their facades painted in deep colors, their entrances crowded with figures cloaked in secrecy and sex. Men bellowed drunkenly, women beckoned from balconies draped in rich silks, and shadows moved between doorways.

The Praetorian pulled his horse to a stop before a particular building—modest compared to the grand villas of the upper city, yet unmistakably high class for its kind. Its doorway was framed by carved columns, and a faint, seductive melody drifted out.

“This is the place,” the elder guard said, dismounting and stepping aside. His expression was carefully neutral, though his clenched fists showed his discomfort.

You slid off your horse, handing the reins to the younger guard. The flickering light from a brazier near the entrance cast golden hues across your face as you stepped toward the door, the faint hum of voices and laughter growing louder with each step.

“Wait here,” you ordered, your voice firm. The Praetorians hesitated, exchanging a glance, but obeyed, remaining by the doorway.

Pushing aside the heavy curtain that covered the entrance, you stepped into the warmth and haze of the brothel. The air was thick with incense and wine, the light dim but gilded, as though the entire room were lost in a fog. Figures reclined on cushions and couches, their forms draped in flowing fabrics, their laughter rich and unrestrained.

Laughter rippled through the air, sharp and boisterous, as men gambled at low tables, surrounded by women who hung on their every word. You kept your face neutral, though anger simmered in your chest. As you stepped deeper into the room, making your way through clusters of loungers and revelers, your gaze caught on a scene at the far end of the chamber.

There he was.

Caracalla lounged at a table, his tunic loosely belted, his posture relaxed. His profile was illuminated by the golden light, the faint glint of rings on his fingers catching your eye as he threw dice onto the table with a triumphant laugh. The men around him roared with approval—or fear—it was difficult to tell.

What caught your attention more was the woman draped across his lap, her arm lazily curled around his neck. Her hair, pinned in loose waves, framed a face disturbingly familiar. Her features bore an uncanny resemblance to your own—enough to make your breath catch in your throat. She leaned into him, laughing softly as she whispered something in his ear.

Your stomach twisted, rage and disbelief stirring within you. For a moment, you stood stuck to the spot, your veil slipping further down your neck as you struggled to maintain your composure.

“My lady, are you lost?”

The voice startled you. A woman with a painted face and a sheer stola approached, her expression one of concern. Her kohl-lined eyes searched yours, and her hand reached out to gently touch your arm. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said softly, her tone maternal despite her surroundings. “It is dangerous to wander too close to him.”

You blinked, your focus shifting to her. “Dangerous?” you repeated, your voice calm but cold.

Her grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as she leaned in, lowering her voice. “He’s not a man to trifle with. Especially not for a lady like you.” She glanced over her shoulder toward Caracalla, as if fearful he might see her speaking to you. “Come, I’ll take you somewhere safe before he notices you.”

You stiffened, pulling your arm free. “Do you know who I am?” you asked, your words sharp.

The woman hesitated, her brows furrowing slightly. “No, my lady, but it doesn’t matter. You’re too fine to be here.” Her gaze flicked to your attire, the richness of your fabric setting you apart from everyone else in the room. “You don’t want his attention, believe me. It will ruin you.”

Her words only fanned the flames of your fury. Your eyes drifted back toward Caracalla, who was oblivious to your presence, his focus entirely on the woman perched in his lap.

Your jaw tightened, and your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

The woman hesitated, her painted lips parting as though to protest. Taking pause, she stepped closer, her expression softening with concern.

“Caracalla is not the kind of man a woman like you should ever let too close. He... plays games. Dangerous ones.”

You frowned as her words sent a chill through you. “What do you mean by that?”

She tilted her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder like silk. She seemed to hesitate, wondering how much to reveal. Then she leaned back slightly, her expression grave, yet seductive.

“He has... peculiar appetites,” she said carefully, her voice almost teasing, her eyes betraying the seriousness of her words. “He likes to test people. Push them to their limits. He likes to play with swords—not just on the battlefield. He enjoys seeing how far he can go before someone breaks.”

You stiffened, the insinuation settling in your stomach. “What are you saying?”

Her lips curved into a slow, almost feline smile. “He enjoys pain. Giving it, taking it. There are whispers, my lady. Whispers of him bleeding women just to see how much they can endure. For his amusement. For his... pleasure.”

The air between you seemed to grow colder despite the warmth of the room. Your breath caught in your throat, a thousand questions circling your mind, but you couldn’t find the words.

“Wait,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. “You look unwell, Domina. Come with me—just for a moment. Some fresh air will do you good.”

You opened your mouth to dismiss her, but she took your arm again, this time more gently, and began guiding you back through the crowded room.

The din of laughter and gambling faded behind you as she led you through a side door, out into the cool night.

You found yourself standing in a small courtyard, enclosed by ivy-covered walls. A single olive tree stood at its center, its leaves shimmering faintly in the moonlight. The sounds of the brothel were distant now, muffled by the stone walls, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves to fill the silence.

“Wait here,” the woman said, releasing your arm and disappearing briefly through another doorway. When she returned, she held a small clay cup of wine, the dark liquid sloshing slightly as she walked.

Her movements were fluid, as though she belonged more to the shadows than the smoky room she had found you in. Her piercing eyes studied you as she handed you the cup of wine, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

You accepted the cup, though you did not drink immediately. “You haven’t told me your name,” you said, your voice steadier.

She blinked, surprised, then gave a small smile. “Prosperina,” she said. “It’s what they call me here.”

Her eyes, sheer and piercing, were an unearthly shade of blue, a stark contrast against her tanned complexion.

“Why do you care if I am well?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Prosperina hesitated, then shrugged. “Because I have seen what happens to women who cross his path.” She gestured vaguely to the brothel. “They’re drawn in, thinking they’ll find something—power, protection, even love. But he’s not a man who gives. He takes.” Her voice softened. “And you don’t belong here. Anyone can see that.”

You glanced down at the cup in your hands, the wine’s surface rippling faintly in the breeze.

“Do you have anything stronger?” you asked, your tone cool but deliberate.

Her painted lips parted in surprise, then curved into a faint smile, a flicker of amusement dancing in her gaze. “You don’t strike me as the type to indulge, my lady,” she said softly.

You raised an eyebrow, meeting her eyes with a look that left no room for argument. “Tonight is an exception.”

Prosperina studied you for a long moment, her gaze calculating, as though weighing whether she should agree. Finally, she nodded, the golden bracelets on her wrists clinking softly as she turned. “Come with me,” she said, her voice low and inviting.

She led you through a narrow passage on the side of the courtyard. A small doorway opened into her quarters. The walls were painted with faded frescoes of nymphs and satyrs, the colors dulled by time. A low couch covered in silken throws occupied the center, while an assortment of small, clay jars and glass vials lined a wooden table nearby.

Her sheer gown clung to her curves like a second skin as she leaned against the edge of the table in her quarters, the lamplight highlighting the rich tan of her skin and the piercing ice-blue of her eyes. She studied you with a gaze that seemed to see more than it should, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile.

She held up a pipe delicately, her fingers adorned with gold rings that caught the light. The gesture was casual and playful, but there was confidence in her tone, as though she already knew your answer.

When you hesitated, her smile deepened, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” she teased, moving closer. “I don’t bite—unless you would like me to.”

She moved like a cat, her steps deliberate and silent, her gaze never leaving yours. When she extended the pipe toward you, her fingers brushed yours, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Go on,” she urged, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It will help you forget, just for a little while.”

Prosperina tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile as she held the pipe closer. “A bold woman deserves bold choices,” she murmured, her voice low and inviting. “Breathe in. Let go of everything else.”

Without a word, you lifted the pipe to your lips and inhaled deeply, the smoke burning slightly as it filled your lungs.

The effect was instant. Your chest tightened for a heartbeat before a rush of warmth spread throughout your body, followed by a dizzying sensation that sent you sprawling backward onto the plush couch. The room seemed to tilt and spin, the dim lamp light splitting into ribbons of gold that danced across the walls.

Shapes and colors began to swirl, cascading like liquid through your vision, while Prosperina’s voice became an echo, far away yet hauntingly close. “There it is,” she purred, leaning over you, her dark hair cascading like a curtain around her face. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

You blinked, but the world refused to focus. Shadows danced and shifted, morphing into figures that were familiar and strange. You saw flashes of faces—some from memory, others from dreams. The air felt electric against your skin.

Prosperina knelt beside you, her fingers brushing your temple as she studied you with fascination. “You’re caught between worlds now,” she whispered, her voice velvety and hypnotic. “Do you feel it?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, a strange, breathless laugh escaped, the sound foreign even to your own ears. Your body felt weightless, as though the couch beneath you had disappeared.

“Relax,” Prosperina cooed, her touch sliding down your arm in a slow motion. “Let it take you. There’s no need to fight.”

The room twisted and blurred, melting into something unfamiliar, but familiar at the same time. Prosperina’s face hovered above you briefly, her sharp features smearing like wet paint before disappearing into the shadows. In their place, a figure emerged—a face both familiar and haunting. Geta.

His expression was soft, kind, the way you remembered it when you were children, before the weight of politics and betrayal had driven a wedge between everyone you had once cared for. His lips moved, though no sound came, his words carried away by the same wind that seemed to swirl through your mind.

“Geta,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, thick with longing and confusion. You reached for him, but your hand passed through his form like smoke, the edges of his figure distorting before re-forming. His eyes—so familiar, so painfully warm—locked with yours. For a moment, you thought he might speak, but the image shifted violently.

Suddenly, Caracalla’s face loomed in front of you, his blue eyes filled with anger and frustration. “What are you doing, Prima?” his voice boomed, though you couldn’t tell if it was real or imagined. “You think you can escape this? Escape me?”

The world around you shattered like glass, fragments of Caracalla’s image reforming. Now he was standing over you, his hand gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a growl, filled with something dangerous. “No matter what you tell yourself. No matter who you try to run to.”

You flinched, but the vision changed again. Geta reappeared, his expression now filled with sorrow as though he could see what you had become. He extended his hand, his mouth forming the words Come back to me, though you couldn’t hear him. The image of Caracalla stood behind him, watching with a mixture of rage and jealousy.

The two brothers began to blur together, their features morphing and overlapping until you couldn’t tell them apart. The figures around you spun faster, their voices rising in a symphony of anger, sorrow, and something else—something deeper and more primal, echoing through your bones.

Your chest tightened, the sensations pulsing through your body becoming almost unbearable. You gasped for air, your vision blurred, as a shadow loomed over you again. This time, it was Prosperina, her voice cutting through the confusion.

“Easy, Domina,” she murmured, her tone soothing yet laced with amusement. “You’re seeing the truth you’ve buried deep. Let it come. Let it free you.”

Prosperina’s piercing blue eyes locked onto yours as the swirling haze of the hallucinations ebbed and flowed like the Tiber. Her touch became firmer, her hand trailing from your arm to your shoulder, her fingers brushing the curve of your neck. The room felt distant, the visions melting into shadows as her presence anchored you back in the present.

“The gods have chosen you,” she whispered, her lips so close to your ear that her breath sent shivers down your spine. “And I can see why. You are a force.”

Prosperina’s hands moved along the length of your body, her touch tracing the curve of your waist. Her fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your stola, their warmth igniting a fire that burned through you. You gasped as her touch grew bolder, her hands exploring your skin with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

Your body arched instinctively into her as her pointer finger stroked your weeping slit, prying you open gently, her name escaping your lips in a whisper as your fingers tangled in her dark hair. Her touch was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through you, dull and aching.

She leaned closer, her breath hot against your ear. “Domina,” she murmured, her voice low, “you are divine.”

She worked you expertly, finding the spot within you that you had never known existed. Your cunt pulsated around her slender digits, eyes rolling closed, legs trembling. The pleasure was overwhelming, a pressure building within you that left you trembling, on the edge of something you had never experienced before.

Then, without warning, a cry escaped your lips. It echoed softly in the room, but it felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. But before you could experience the sensation– give it a name and truly define it– the door slammed open.

The sound shattered the moment like a roll of thunder. Your head snapped toward the doorway, your body stiffening as a wave of cold panic washed over you.

There, silhouetted in the flickering lamplight, stood Caracalla. His piercing eyes blazed with fury, his face twisted in an expression that was equal parts shock and rage.

“What is this?” he roared, his voice cutting through the room.

Prosperina froze, her hands still on you, though the warmth of her touch now felt like fire against your skin. She quickly withdrew, her movements sharp, as she turned to face him.

You sat up, your breathing ragged, your mind racing to catch up with what had just happened. The haze of the devil’s breath made it hard to think clearly, but the sight of Caracalla’s seething form brought you into the present.

“Answer me, Prima!” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he stepped into the room, his gaze darting between you and Prosperina.

Prosperina’s eyes flickered to you, a silent question flashed behind them, but she said nothing, her lips pressed into a tight line.

Caracalla’s fury filled the room, oppressive and suffocating. “My empress,” he spat, the word laced with mockery, “consorting with a whore? Do you have no shame?”

“Leave her out of this,” you said, your voice cold and commanding despite the tremors running through you.

Caracalla let out a harsh laugh, stepping closer, his expression that of twisted rage and cruel satisfaction. “Out of this? She was in you, Prima. Or were you going to pretend she wasn’t just defiling what belongs to me?”

The words hung in the air, cutting through the thick tension. Prosperina’s piercing blue eyes widened, flicking between you and the emperor.

“Empress?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. The color drained from her face as the full weight of what had just transpired crashed down on her. “You’re the empress?”

You turned your gaze to her, an unspoken apology crossed your features for the secret you’d let her unknowingly cross.

But the moment was short lived, shattered as Caracalla’s harsh laugh filled the room again. He gestured toward Prosperina with a flick of his hand. “Yes, Prosperina. Behold your empress—on her knees for you like a common slave.”

“Stop,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through his mocking tone.

As he reached out to grab you, the world around you seemed to tilt, and the ground beneath your feet felt unstable. The effects of the drug were too strong, and your head spun. You reached out to steady yourself but couldn’t find anything solid to hold on to.

“Stop,” you gasped, your legs buckling beneath you.

But Caracalla wasn’t interested in mercy. In one swift motion, he gripped you by the arm, his fingers tightening around your wrist with an iron grip. “You are coming with me,” he growled, dragging you out of the room with no consideration for your protests.

Your mind was a whirl of incoherent thoughts, and you stumbled as he pulled you through the corridors, your vision growing darker at the edges. The air felt thick, and you couldn’t focus—couldn’t think.

“Stop,” you tried again, but your voice was little more than a rasp.

Caracalla wasn’t listening. He half-carried, half-dragged you through the back entrance of the brothel and out into the courtyard. The cool night air bit at your skin, but it did nothing to clear the fog in your mind.

“Up,” Caracalla ordered, his voice harsh, commanding. He threw you onto a horse, and before you could protest or struggle, he was behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist with a grip like iron, holding you steady against him.

The world around you seemed to collapse as the horse jolted into motion. You could barely keep your eyes open, every movement sending another wave of dizziness through you. The drugs had taken hold fully now, and you felt detached from your own body, like you were watching yourself from far away.

Your body felt heavy, your head lolling against Caracalla’s chest.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me,” his voice snapped, sharp and commanding in your ear. His arm tightened around your waist, holding you firmly in place against him. “Stay awake, Prima. You wouldn’t want to miss this, would you?”

A weak sound escaped your lips, somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “Can’t...too much,” you murmured.

“Oh no, you don’t get to escape this,” he hissed, his tone low and cruel. “You’re not going to float away into whatever little fantasy that woman put into your head. You stay here—with me.”

You felt his lips brush the shell of your ear, not tenderly but deliberately, his words dripping with venom. “Do you think she could give you what I can? Hmm? Is that what you were dreaming about, Prima? Another woman’s touch? Or maybe it’s Geta, whispering sweet nothings to you while you drift away.”

You stirred weakly, your fingers curling against the reins.

“That’s it,” he continued, his voice a mix of mockery and seduction. “Stay awake. Don’t disappoint me now. Tell me, Prima—did you like it? Did you like the way she touched you? Or was it the thought of me finding you like that thrilled you?”

Your breath hitched, your head turning slightly as though to respond, but your thoughts were too scattered to form words. He laughed softly, a bitter, dark sound. “No clever reply? No self righteous fury? Maybe you’re finally realizing how easily you can be undone.”

His hand, steady on the reins, pressed against your thigh, his grip firm and possessive. “You don’t get to slip away, Prima. Not now, not ever. Whatever you felt back there, whatever fantasies she gave you, they’re nothing compared to what I can make you feel.”

The words were both a taunt and a promise. You shivered, your body betraying you as his breath brushed against your neck, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice softer but no less dangerous. “Stay with me. You belong to me, Prima, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Why?” The word slipped from your lips, barely a whisper.

Caracalla’s grip on your waist tightened slightly. “Why what?” he demanded, his tone sharp and impatient.

You took a shuddering breath, your voice trembling as you managed to form the words. “Why have you never made me feel like that before?”

He stiffened behind you, the tension in his body palpable. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of the horse’s hooves against the ground, the weight of your question hanging heavily between you.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and edged with frustration. “What are you asking me, Prima? Why I haven’t coddled you? Why I haven’t wasted time on fantasies and false promises?”

You turned your head slightly, your cheek brushing against his chest. “That’s not what I mean,” you murmured, your voice raw with vulnerability. “I mean... why have you never touched me like I mattered? Like you wanted me?”

His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, you thought you felt him falter. But when he answered, his tone was bitter, almost defensive. “Wanting you isn’t the issue,” he said harshly. “Feelings, tenderness—that’s not what matters. An heir is what matters. Duty is what matters. You think this is a game, Prima? That this empire is built on emotions?”

You swallowed hard, his words cutting through you like a blade. “So that’s it?” you whispered. “I’m just a vessel to you? Nothing more?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his silence deafening. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost grudging. “Wanting you, needing you—that doesn’t change what I am. What we are.”

"What are we?" you asked, feeling a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"Nothing but a fleeting thought until that cursed cunt of yours does what it’s meant to—until your womb carries my heir," he shot back, kicking the horse into a faster stride.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dismounting the horse proved more challenging than anticipated. With Caracalla already on the ground, his gaze burning into you, you shook your head and released the reins. Your feet met the sand, sinking deep into its grains, and you stumbled. As you fumbled, he stepped forward, his hand outstretched to steady you, but you pushed it away, catching yourself just before falling.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, brushing your windswept hair out of your face.

He loomed closer, his brow furrowing in frustration. “You’ve done enough tonight, Prima. Enough of this madness.”

“Madness?” You whirled to face him, your voice ringing out in the silence of the night. “The only madness here is yours!”

Before he could respond, you lunged forward and snatched the dagger from his belt. The two guards stationed at the villa’s entrance stiffened instantly, their hands flying to the hilt of their swords.

“Prima,” Caracalla growled,“Put it down.”

You ignored him, your grip tightening on the blade. “Must I bleed for you, Caracalla? Would that finally make me real to you? Would that amuse you?”

“Enough of this nonsense,” he snapped. He took a step closer, his hands clenched into fists.

You backed away as you held the blade out between you. “Isn’t that what you like?” you demanded, your voice rising, trembling with anger. “I’ve heard the whispers, Caracalla. You like to bleed women for fun. You like to push them until they break, to see how far they can go before they shatter.”

His expression darkened, jaw tightening. The guards glanced at one another, uncertain whether to intervene.

“And tonight—tonight, you sat there with a woman who looked just like me.” Your voice broke, your eyes stinging with tears you refused to shed. “She had my face, my hair... Did you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t care? You sat there with her on your lap, touching her, gambling with her like she was some pale imitation of what you already have!”

He froze for a moment, your words seeming to hit a nerve, but then his expression twisted into something dark and unreadable.

“You know nothing,” he said coldly.

“Don’t I?” you shot back, your voice trembling with fury. “You think I don’t hear the rumors? About the swords, the games, the bleeding?” You took a step closer, your eyes locking with his, refusing to back down. “Well, here I am, Caracalla. Bleed me, if that’s what you want. Push me to the edge like you do to all the others.”

Without waiting for his reaction, you pressed the blade against your palm, the sharp edge biting into your skin. You flinched as blood welled and trickled down your wrist, pooling onto the marble floor.

His hand shot out faster than you could react, gripping your wrist and forcing the dagger from your grasp. It clattered to the ground, the sound echoing through the villa. He yanked you toward him, his grip bruising as his face hovered inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin.

Before he could speak, you wrenched your hand free and swung it hard against his face. The sound of the slap echoed through the space, your blood smearing across his cheek like a brand.

He froze, his head snapping to the side from the force of your blow. Slowly, he turned back to face you, his dark eyes blazing with fury. He drug you to a chaise, twisting your body around to lay across his lap.

Caracalla’s grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your waist as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You don’t learn through words, Prima. Perhaps pain will remind you of who you’re speaking to.”

You froze, your breath hitching at his words, the threat lingering in the air like smoke. Before you could summon a retort, his voice cut through the silence, cold and commanding.

“Fetch me a whip,” he barked, his head turning slightly toward the guards who still stood by the entrance, their eyes wide with apprehension.

For a moment, neither guard moved, exchanging uneasy glances.

“Now,” Caracalla snapped, his tone sharp enough to make both men flinch. One of them nodded and stepped away, his footsteps echoing in the atrium as he disappeared into an adjoining room.

Your heart pounded, each beat loud in your ears as you twisted against his hold, desperate to break free. “Caracalla, don’t you dare,” you hissed, your voice dripping with venom even as your stomach knotted with a mixture of anger and dread. Perhaps, something else. Something you had never experienced under the circumstances you found yourself in.

“Quiet,” he commanded, his hand pressing more firmly against your back. “You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Now you have it. Let’s see if you still crave it when I’m finished with you.”

Moments later, the guard returned, his face pale as he held out the braided leather flogger with trembling hands. Caracalla took it without a word, dismissing the man with a wave. The guard quickly retreated, leaving you alone with your husband and the weight of what was about to unfold.

He held the flogger in his hand, letting the strands sway lightly, almost thoughtfully, as he regarded you with a dark, calculating gaze.

“Caracalla,” you said, your voice low and sharp as you craned your neck to glare at him. “You’re not doing this.”

“Oh, I am,” he replied, his tone cold and resolute. “Because this is what you want, isn’t it? You want to push me, to test me. Well, here I am, Prima. Let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

He let the flogger brush lightly against the back of your thighs, dragging the fabric of your stola with it, the sensation sending a shiver up your spine. The teasing motion wasn’t meant to hurt—not yet—but it was a warning of what was to come.

“You bleed for me,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You slap me like you’re my equal. And now, you’ll learn what it means to be mine.”

The leather strands trailed over your skin, their touch deceptively gentle as Caracalla hovered in silence. You could feel his gaze boring into you, and despite the fury burning in your chest, your body trembled under his hold.

“You’ve always wanted to test me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, cutting through the tense air. “So tell me, Prima, are you ready for the lesson you asked for?”

“Let me go,” you snapped, twisting against him, but his iron grip on your waist didn’t falter.

“You think I don’t see it?” he continued, ignoring your protests, the flogger now coiled loosely in his hand. “You thrive on this—on defiance, on rebellion. You provoke me, hoping I’ll break, hoping I’ll lose control.”

The strands of leather flicked against the back of your thighs, sharp enough to sting but not yet hard enough to leave a mark. Your breath hitched involuntarily, and Caracalla’s lips curled into a grim, humorless smile.

“But that’s the thing about me, Prima,” he said darkly, his voice dropping lower. “I don’t break. I’m the one who does the breaking.”

The next strike came without warning against the bare flesh of your ass, the flogger snapping against your skin with enough force to make you gasp. The sting bloomed instantly, hot and sharp, radiating.

“Caracalla!” you cried out, your voice a mixture of fury and disbelief.

“Don’t call me that,” he growled, his tone cutting through the room like a blade. “When you speak to me, you will remember who I am to you. Say it.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Another strike followed, harder this time, and you bit down on your lip to stifle the sound that threatened to escape.

“Say it,” he repeated, his hand pressing down against the reddened flesh of your ass to hold you steady.

The heat of the blows, the tension in his voice, and the humiliation of your position all made your head spin. The drugs still lingered in your system, dulling some of the pain but amplifying the intensity of the moment.

“You are my emperor,” you spat finally, your voice trembling but laced with venom.

“That’s right,” he said, his voice dark with satisfaction. “And you will remember that.”

He let the flogger fall again, a calculated punishment meant to remind you of his dominance. Each strike sent a jolt through you, but it was the weight of his dominating presence, the control he exerted, that stung more than the blows.

Caracalla’s strikes came slower now, deliberate, as if he wanted you to feel every ounce of control he wielded. The leather strands snapped against the soft flesh of your ass, leaving a burning heat that spread through your skin, through your core. Your breath came in shallow gasps, and you bit down on your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a cry, though the pain blurred into a strange, disorienting feeling, manifesting an ache between your thighs, and warmth wetness as you squeezed them together.

"Still defiant," he murmured, his tone laced with amusement. His hand settled on your lower back, holding you firmly against his lap, and you could feel the tension radiating from him, like a predator toying with its prey. "You think I don't know what you're doing? Pushing me like this, daring me to lose control?"

"You already have," you spat, your voice shaky but sharp, though you could even hear the vulnerability beneath it. "Look at yourself, Caracalla. Do you think this proves your strength? That this—" You twisted beneath his grip, trying to pull free. "—makes you a ruler? It only makes you cruel."

His grip tightened, and he leaned down, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "You call me cruel, Prima, but you're the one who brought us here." The flogger trailed across your skin now, the sting replaced by a soft drag that only heightened the tension in the air. "You taunt me. Defy me. Challenge me in front of my guards like you're untouchable. And yet, here you are, over my knee, bleeding for my attention."

"You make me hate you," you hissed, though the venom in your words was laced with something deeper, something even you couldn't quite name.

"Do I?" he asked, his voice a low growl. The flogger fell again, harder this time, and the sharp snap against your thigh drew a gasp from your lips before you could stop it. "Or do I make you feel something you can't control?"

The question struck a nerve, and your body tensed against him, though your mind was too clouded—by anger, by the lingering effects of the drugs, by the intensity of him—to form a coherent reply. His free hand slid up your back, the touch firm but not cruel sending a shiver through you.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice quiet but seething with authority. "Admit what we both know, Prima."

Your silence was the only defiance you had left, and it only seemed to fuel his frustration. He tossed the flogger aside, and the sharp clatter against the marble floor echoed in the atrium. Both of his hands gripped your waist now, pulling you upright and turning you to face him. His expression was a storm—anger, desire, and something unspoken all in the depths of his ocean eyes.

"You want to hate me," he said, his voice low and steady, though there was a rawness to it that made your breath hitch. "But hate is still a feeling, isn't it, Prima? It's still mine to take from you."

You were a mess, your breathing shallow and uneven, tears pooling in your eyes though you refused to let them fall. Your hair clung to your damp skin, and your body trembled—not just from the pain but from the weight of everything you were feeling, everything that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. Your cut palm, still slick with blood, trembled as you tried to keep it from view, as if that small act could give you back some semblance of control.

"Look at you," he said, his voice low and rough, his hands tightening their hold on you as if he were afraid you might collapse. "You think you can sit here, defiant and proud, but you're barely holding yourself together. You're trembling, Prima."

Your eyes narrowed, though the tears made it hard to focus. "And whose fault is that?" you spat, your voice shaking. "You—you make me feel like I'm nothing. You take every piece of me and break it, twist it until I don’t even recognize myself."

His expression flickered for the briefest moment—something like guilt passing over his face before it hardened again. "I break you?" he said, his voice quiet but cutting. "Do you think I don’t feel the same? You think I don’t see how you look at me like I’m a monster, like every choice I make is a crime against you?"

"Because it is!" you cried, your voice cracking as the tears finally spilled over, hot and unrelenting. "You tell me I belong to you, but you push me away, humiliate me, treat me like I’m nothing more than a tool for your empire! How can you expect me to feel anything but hatred for you when you don’t even try to understand me?"

His hands moved to your shoulders, and for a moment, his grip softened. "You think I don’t understand?" he murmured, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. "You think I don’t see you, Prima? I see you more clearly than anyone else ever has.”

The admission stunned you into silence. For a moment, the room seemed to close in around you, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His words hung in the air, and you could feel the sincerity in them, even if you didn’t want to. Being understood by Caracalla meant, by some measure, you could possibly be like him.

"If you see me so clearly," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper, "then why do you treat me like this? Why do you make it so impossible for us to be anything but enemies?"

He closed his eyes briefly, as though steadying himself, before looking at you again. "Because it’s easier to push you away than to let you see how much I want you," he said, his voice breaking just slightly on the last word.

You felt your knees buckle, and this time, you didn’t pull away when he steadied you, his arms wrapping around you almost protectively as he laid you back against the plush cushioned chaise.

"I hate you," you whispered against his chest, though the words lacked the fire they once had.

"I know," he replied softly, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. "But that doesn’t make any of this less true."

He tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “I don’t need to remind you that you belong to me,” Caracalla said softly, his voice smooth with an edge of menace. “But I will... just to make sure you’re never in doubt. Everything you are, every breath you take... it's mine to command.” His eyes darkened, “And when I’m finished with you, you’ll know it, deep down in your bones.”

It wasn’t long before he traced a path of bites and kisses along your neck and chest, relishing the softness of your belly, his warm hand resting possessively over your mound. A groan escaped his lips as a finger slipped between your folds, the wetness glistening on his finger.

Your response was hushed, tired from the hours of emotionality, from the ecstasy, from the devil’s breath; all you could manage was a soft moan, your head falling to the side in surrender.

“No,” he insisted, shaking his head, his hand tilting your chin to meet his gaze, your own wetness marking the curve of your cheek, “You shall not drift away from me again.”

He knelt on the chaise, pulling you gently by the back of your knees until your thighs rested on either side of his head. You inhaled a shaky breath as his fingers dug into your wounded backside, descending upon you like a man starved for your flesh. In just moments, the coil within you tightened, reminiscent of the pleasure Prosperina had given you earlier that night but even more intense. You tangled your bloodied fingers in his hair, urging him closer to your core, and finally, your voice returned, a wail escaping your lips as you released around his eager tongue.

Your vision blurred as you arched into his mouth, and when you came to, you looked down to find him sucking at the gash on your palm, as if your very essence was the only thing that could nourish him.

He quickly pulled away, his hand gliding across the marble floor until it found what he was searching for. The dagger sparkled in the candlelight, and a knot tightened in your stomach as you wondered what he was about to do. With a quick slash, he cut into his own palm, and you shuddered at the sound of his flesh parting.

When he pressed your wounded hands together, you couldn’t help but groan.

For two nights, you remained entwined with him in bloodied sheets, surrendering to him in every way. His seed marked your skin, streaking your thighs, mingling with the blood from kisses pressed too hard and bites that left their imprints upon taut flesh. He commanded you to learn his desires—to ride him with purpose, to take him deeply enough for your own pleasure, to find ecstasy in his dominance. In turn, he pushed you to your limits, coaxing cries from your lips that echoed through the chamber like prayers to the gods. By the end, your body wore the evidence of him—smudged, crimson handprints and bruises scattered like spoils of war. Exhaustion claimed you, pulling you into the softness of the bed, your heavy-lidded gaze stayed on him as he laid beside you.

Servants had come and gone during the two days, dismissed by his growled commands before they could enter. You caught the sound of his voice—low and steady, discussing affairs of the empire. Peeking through half-lidded eyes, you saw him framed in the doorway, a sheet draped loosely around his waist as he murmured to messengers. Without fail, he returned to you each time, sinking back into the bed to linger at your side, his gaze fixed upon you as you slipped once more to sleep.

The door flew open without warning, slamming against the wall with a force that shook the bed. You laid on your stomach, your battered body half-draped in the stained sheets, your wounded hand dangling limply from the edge of the bed. The cool breeze drifting in from the balcony made your exposed skin prickle, and the intrusion startled Caracalla from his place beside you.

“By the gods, you’ve nearly killed her.” Geta’s accusatory voice broke through the silence.

Caracalla jerked upright, his hand shot out to grab the sheet, draping it over your body before he swung his legs to the floor. “What in all the hells are you doing here, brother?” he growled.

“You’ve ignored every messenger I’ve sent,” Geta snapped, stepping into the room with no regard for the scene surrounding him. His eyes flicked briefly to you, his expression unreadable, before returning to his brother.

“As you can see, I’ve been busy,” Caracalla bit back, the sarcasm dripping from his words as he gestured dismissively toward you.

“And yet Rome burns in your absence,” Geta countered sharply. “But this isn’t about me, nor the senate’s growing distaste for your escapades.”

Caracalla leaned forward, his jaw tightening as he spat, “Then get to the point, unless you came to gawk.”

Geta’s eyes narrowed, his temper held in check by a thread. “It’s Father,” he finally said, his voice breaking faintly on the word. “He is not well.”

Caracalla froze for a beat, “How do you mean?” he demanded, his voice quieter now.

You stirred beneath the sheet, the ache in your body throbbing as you rolled onto your back, pulling the sheet around you. Squinting against the sunlight streaming in, you took in the two brothers.

Geta hesitated, “His condition has worsened,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “He has been unconscious for days.”

For the first time, Caracalla’s composure seemed to crack. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, his eyes darkening. “And you waited until now to tell me?” he snapped, though the anger in his tone seemed to mask something else.

“I’ve sent word,” Geta replied sharply, his frustration palpable. “You ignored it. You locked yourself away with her—” his gaze flicked to you briefly before returning to his brother “—and the empire be damned.”

Caracalla stood, his movements abrupt and dominating. “I will decide what damns the empire,” he said coldly, stepping toward Geta. “But if what you say is true, I will not be kept from Rome.” He turned to you, his gaze lingering on your exhausted form, his expression unreadable. “Get dressed. We leave at once.”

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Taglist:

@alwaysahiccupandastrid

@justnobodynothingmore

@miamariposita

@niungguang

Dividers: @ghoulbloggerrr

[purplephantomwolf]

Tethered Time

Logan Sargeant Soulmate AU

Chapter Two

Synopsis: Everyone has a timer on their wrist. It counts down the time until you hear your soulmates voice for the first time. After you hear their voice, it changes to the time until you meet them for the first time.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings for this chapter: None

Previous Chapters: Chapter One

Masterlist

I AM REWRITING THIS FROM AN ORIGINAL CHARACTER SO IF I MISSED ANYTHING I AM SORRY AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW. This is the last chapter as an OC rewrite.

December 25, 2022

10 months 4 days

     “We have one last gift for you, Y/n,” your mom says, handing you an envelope. You grab it from her, tearing it open. You look inside and drop it in shock. Multiple paddock passes fall out of it. 

     “Oh my god! You didn’t!!” You shout, picking them up. You see passes for multiple races. 

     “Since Logan is in Formula 1 now, we got you two passes for every race in North America but Las Vegas. We figured this would be a Christmas, birthday, and college graduation present all wrapped into one,” my dad says.

     “Thank you so much! This, this is amazing,” you grin. You launch yourself at your parents in a hug. They laugh and hug you back. You do a little happy dance, before grabbing the passes. You inspect them, grinning. 

     “We figured you’d take Tucker to at least one race,” your mom says. 

     “I will probably take him to every race, considering you guys don’t like watching it,” you shrug. Your parents nod. You set your passes down, grabbing your phone to call Tucker. 

     “Merry Christmas!” He greets you. 

     “How would you like to go to four Formula 1 races this year?” You ask, not bothering to greet him. The line goes silent. “Tucker?” You prompt him. 

     “Are you serious?” He shrieks in your ear. You pull your phone away from your ear, wincing. 

     “Yes, I’m serious. My parents got me two passes to almost every race in North America this year,” you tell him, grinning. 

     “Yes! YES! I would love to go!” He yells, causing you to pull your phone away from your ear again. “Where do we sit at each of them?!” He asks, excited. 

     “They’re paddock passes,” you explain. You pull your phone away again, knowing he’s about to yell again. 

     “HOLY SHIT, Y/N! TELL YOUR PARENTS I LOVE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH!” He screams. You turn to your parents, and they’re covering their laughter. 

     “We love you too, Tucker,” your mom calls out to him. 

     “I’ve got to go now, Y/n, but we will be discussing details of this later,” Tucker says. 

     “Sounds good. Merry Christmas, Tucker,” you say. He wishes you a merry Christmas before hanging up. You grab the passes to go put them somewhere safe. 

     You sprint down the stairs to thank your parents again. “Thank you again!” You hug them again. 

     “Of course, we want you to get every chance you can to meet Logan, so we thought this would be good,” your mom says. Your dad nods in agreement. 

     You smile at them before starting to mess around with the new camera lens they got you. 

************************************************************************

May 5, 2022

5 months 24 days

     “I can’t believe we’re actually in Miami to watch a Formula 1 race,” Tucker says, his head going every which way as we enter the paddock. Your head is also turning every which way, trying to see everything you can.

     “I can’t believe it, too. Come on! Let’s go look at the hospitalities!” You grab his arm, dragging him towards where you can see the hospitalities. We spend the next 10 minutes looking into as many hospitality windows as possible. “This is so cool!” You laugh happily. 

     Tucker sees something and takes off. “Come on, Y/n!” He shouts over his shoulder. We’re in front of the Williams hospitality. You linger, not wanting to leave. You know that there’s still basically 6 months until you meet Logan, but you’re hopeful that you’ll still get a glimpse of him in person before then. “Y/n, let’s go! I want to get some Ferrari merch before it sells out!” Tucker calls out to me. 

     “I’m coming, I’m coming!” You say, turning to follow him. You take off after him, not looking back at Williams hospitality. You catch up with him and head towards the area selling merch. “I want to grab some Williams merch,” You say, when you arrive. You split up in the store to go to the different team sections. You grab a Logan hat and a Williams jacket and head towards the check out. Tucker appears behind you, and you laugh when you see his arms loaded with Ferrari merch. “Got enough merch?” You snicker. 

     “No, I need you to hold these for me,” he says, a serious look on his face. Your jaw drops in shock, before he breaks out in laughter. “I’m kidding, this is everything,” he says. You nod and you check out. 

     After checking out, you head up to the paddock club. You take a seat just as FP1 starts. 

************************************************************************

Logan’s POV

1 minutes 12 seconds

     I glance at my wrist and then around the hospitality. My timer says there’s only a minute left until I hear my soulmate's voice, but everyone around me are people I’ve talked to before. The door at the entrance opens, and I look up hopeful. I sigh in disappointment when James Vowels walks through the door. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” I hear a female’s voice say as the door closes. In an instant, I’m out of my seat, pushing past a confused James. My wrist is burning, but I ignore it. I slam the door open and sprint out. My head is whipping in every direction, trying to find the source of the voice. My face falls when I can’t pinpoint who the owner of the voice is. I glance down at my wrist and my face falls even more when I see 5 months and 24 days. 

     I head back inside the hospitality. I spot James and Alex standing at the door, watching me. “What’s the matter?” James asks me. 

     “I heard my soulmate’s voice, but I won't meet her for another 5 months, 24 days, and some hours and minutes,” I sigh. I get looks of pity from both Alex and James. I just shake my head and head downstairs to the garage. 

************************************************************************

Your POV

5 months 22 days

     “Man, what a disappointing race for Logan. To finish last at your home race must hurt,” Tucker sighs, as you walk out of the paddock. 

     “Yeah, I hope he has a good support system of friends to cheer him up,” you nod in agreement. 

     “If only you two had met before, you’re really good at cheering people up,” Tucker says, bumping shoulders with you. You grin, thanking him. 

************************************************************************

June 18, 2023

Canadian GP

4 months 11 days

     “No!” You shout when you see Logan’s car pull over to the side of the track. You groan, my head dropping into my hands. 

     “His car was giving off a critical error, so it’s good that he stopped,” Tucker shouts over the crowd of the noise and cars. You nod, letting him know you heard him. 

     “Still sucks though,” you grumble, arms crossed. You sigh and turn your attention back to the race. 

************************************************************************

October 22, 2023

COTA

7 days

     “How do you feel knowing you’ve got one week until you meet Logan?” Tucker asks as you lay in your beds at the hotel. 

     “Nervous, but excited. What if he doesn’t like me?” You turn to look at him. 

     “He’ll like you, it’s hard not to,” Tucker scoffs. His phone vibrates and he grabs it. 

    You turn away from him to stare at the ceiling. “Thanks, but can we talk about how amazing he did today?! He finished P12!” You exclaim. 

     “P10,” Tucker says. 

     Your head whips toward him, with a confused look on your face. “No, he finished P12.”

     “He may have finished P12, but he’s now P10 because Hamilton and Leclerc were just disqualified,” Tucker tells you, staring at his phone. He turns it towards you, and you read the article from Formula 1. 

     “OH MY GOD LOGAN JUST GOT HIS FIRST POINTS IN FORMULA 1!!!” You screech, flying out of bed. You do a little happy dance around the room. Tucker watches you, laughing. He holds his phone up, recording you. You stick your tongue out at him. “Yeah yeah, you can laugh. You’re just the same way when your boyfriend does something you’re proud of,” you wave your hand. 

     “I know,” Tucker grins, “This video is going to Carter.” 

     “Tell him hi for me,” you say, falling onto the bed. 

     “I will,” Tucker responds, typing away on his phone. 

************************************************************************

Logan’s POV

7 days

     “How do you feel about getting your first points?” Alex sits down across from me on the plane. 

     “Happy, excited,” I respond, grinning. I post the picture I took when learning that I earned points on Instagram. I subconsciously rub my fingers over the timer on my wrist. I notice Alex glancing at it. 

     “How much time is left?” He asks, leaning forward. 

     “7 days,” I breathe out. 

     His eyes widen, “Getting close then. Are you excited?”

     “Very, I’ve been waiting for this for years. But I’m also extremely nervous. What if she doesn’t like me? What if she doesn’t like what I do?” I rhetorically ask. 

     “Well, considering you heard her voice while at the Miami GP, and you meet her during the Mexico GP, I’m going to go with she likes what you do,” he points out. 

     “Yeah, you’re right. But that still doesn’t mean she’ll like me,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. 

     “I doubt she’ll dislike you, you’re a likable guy,” Alex says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got this. It’ll be okay.”

     “Thanks, Alex,” I sigh, looking up at him. 

     “Of course,” he nods, getting up to go sit with his girlfriend, Lily. 

     I close my eyes to sleep on the flight to Mexico.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three

[7ndipity]

Long Distance Relationship HCs

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: How Yoongi would be in a long distance relationship. In connection to this blurb.

Warnings: not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Writing these really brought my mood up(can I pls have a Yoongi? For my health?) I hope you like them!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You’re 100% on point about him making those little ‘joking-but-dead-serious’ comments constantly, like “There’s a flight leaving in like two hours, I could be there by the time you wake up tomorrow morning… Why are you laughing? I’ll even bring breakfast!”

He would use any excuse to fly you to Seoul.

“It’s done nothing but rain here all week.” “Damn, that sucks. Although, you know, that wouldn’t be a problem if you were here.”

“I’m not flying to Korea just to buy potato chips.” “Why not?! I’ll pay for your ticket!”

He does make sure you don’t go more than about a month without seeing each other in person, whether that’s him coming to you or vice versa, even if it’s just one day.

You tend to video call each other while you’re doing whatever and just leave the call open, not even really talking outside of the occasional comment or question, just keeping each other company.

Y’all send little care packages to each other full of things like favorite snacks, random little gifts you’ve found, hoodies, etc.

For some reason, I think y’all would have some little plushie that you send back and forth, sending pics of what they're up to while they’re with you(hanging out in his studio, binge watching youtube with you).

Because he’s so busy all the time, it doesn’t actually feel all that different sometimes from when you’re in the same city, but that almost makes the moments when you do feel the distance all the worse. Not being able to physically be there for each other when you’re really down or having a tough time is absolute agony.

“Did you know that the international space station is only 250 miles up? It’s closer than we are right now.” “Babe...”🥺

Literally the first time you cried over the phone with him, he lived up to his ‘jokes’ and had his plane ticket booked before you’d hung up.

You wake up the next morning to him calling you like “Open your fucking door, I brought coffee.” and you’re like wtf?! But you open the door and sure enough, there he is.

And when you ask “What are you doing here?!” He’s just like “You were crying. I couldn’t leave you here on your own.”😭

The first time you surprised him like this(probably for his birthday or Christmas), he cried and refused to let you go for over an hour.

The day you tell him you’re moving to Seoul is probably one of the happiest days of his life. (He won’t hear of you getting your own place tho. “I’ve had more than my fill of distance, Love. I need you here, with me.”)

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[nemesis-writer]

[Unwanted Ransom (Chapter 7)]

Fake Masterlist TW- toxic friends(except Katherine)

Street lights.

Those were the only things you can truly remember of Gotham. You've known the streets lights of Gotham more than you can remember your 'family'. The memory of those street lights were longer than your memory with Alfred.

You remember when you would sneak out of the house and read under the streetlight. When you can't find your way home from school you look at the street lights.

Mother used to say, "Street lights are fairies that light up the darkness when you're alone."

What a piece of bullshit.

I was dwelling in the darkness longer than one could imagine. I mean, I had 'friends' who I could rely on until I realised they wanted to be considered as a friend of a Wayne. It's always pride that got people close to me, and when I don't appeal to them, they decide to leave me.

Katherine, on the other hand, she never even knew I was a Wayne, she'd always assume I'm an Amala, in fact I was. But I never truly relied on her. No matter how many birthdays we celebrate together, how many gifts we exchange on Christmas, I could never truly be open with her.

She never knew that I almost went to an asylum because of my attitude, she never knew about the negligence of the batshits, and she never knew how many people I've killed for money. That job was the only reason I was able to get an apartment.

Regardless, she stuck with me all through out. She stopped me when I was taking drugs, helped me when I had to study, and she sometimes pay for my lunches when I was too engrossed in my studies.

I'm not saying I killed people when I was 12. No, I'm saying that I killed people when I was 15.

Oh wait I'm sorry, did you really think those prize money from competitions helped me?

You got it wrong. It helped Xerxes, I'm Jennifer, and I'm your friendly neighbourhood killer. I am Anton Chigurh, but in a more sane, and emotional way. I relate more to serial killers, than I do with Wayne. I guess you get the point.

Now lets state the pros and cons of my life now...

I get up from bed, thank God it's Saturday huh.

Well no. The first thing I see in the morning is a bunch of fucking notifications dated at Saturday 12:01 am. WHO THE FUCK TEXTS AT THAT TIME!!!! (No offense tho.)

The messages come from no one else but demon spawn. This fucker.

Damian- Hey sis, it's me Damian.

Jen- what the fuck u want?

Damian- We miss you, come back home

Jen- listen cutthroat bitch, I'd rather have syphilis than go to that shithole

Damian- Oh come on sis.

*blocked*

Con- I now have to deal with the Addams family

*ding!*

I open it and shows V on the notification.

Pro- I get to befriend a hot guy. But I'd never admit it out loud, I just wish he would ask me out.

V- Jen, you there?

J- Yeh, I just woke up, why?

V- Wanna go out for some coffee?

J- can't I have plans with Pete and DP.

V- It's fine, by the way who are they? Like your brothers or somethin'?

J- Yeh brother figure kinda shit, sorry.

Alright, just because he asked me out for the first time in our 5 year long friendship, does not mean he likes me. I mean come on I know I'm hot but, I'm not his type, whatever his type is.

I need to get a life for once. Ughhh, I just need to shower first, I smell like a rat that just took a shit on an older rat. Why am I like this?

40 mins later...

I'm going outside in my favorite black suit. I have to accompany Morgan into this birthday party she's attending. Cause dad's gonna be busy and I don't wanna disturb him, plus mom's already having enough stress as it is.

I'll be bringing her in my Rolls Royce, cus' apparently I'm not allowed to use my Maserati, not PG rated apparently.

"YO, M don't forget your gift for Susy."

"I won't sis!"

She came down in an adorable pink jumper paired with a cute plaid jacket. She held her gift, which by the way was a Barbie Holiday Doll. I had to spend $99 dollars on a doll, which I doubt her friend will even use. I had a thing with army men when I was her age.

"You look adorable sweet heart, now let's go." I picked her up and carried her into the car. When we reached the car, I had to get my gift for Katherine because Susy and Katherine are 10 years and a week apart from each other.

Before I was about to drive I heard Morgan saying something.

"Can I use your phone to play Dress to Impress?" (I can't think of any other fashion games because I always played war games)

"Ok, fine." I reluctantly gave her my iPhone 15, I took very good care of it because the first phone that I got in Gotham, was a fucking Nokia. That thing could be used as a Horcrux in Harry Potter.

"Who's V?"

Oh fuck.

"He is a friend of mine darling."

"You have a boyfriend?"

I was suppose teach her about this when she is 10

"I have a friend who is a guy. Now, shouldn't you play your game?"

"Okie!"

OH thank God! I wish that I didn't have the talk with her...

At the party...

"Cool car." Some random child said.

"You should see my other one."

With that I walked to Katherine and Susy, hanging near the fire-place.

"Hey Ri!" That's my nickname for her, Kate is pretty conventional.

"Hey Jen!"

"Here's a little something for you, I know it's a week apart from Susy but I got excited."

When she opened it, it was the Chanel perfume she's been eying on. I know it's more expensive than the doll, but still.

"Oh MY GOD JEN!!"

The woman lunged on me, that I actually fell on the ground hugging her.

"You could've just shook my hand. Everyone would think we are lesbians."

"Is that why your hand is near my crotch."

"That's exactly why."

We then both got up and did our signature handshake. (I have no references so come up with something)

We spent half of the day looking over our sisters and playing dolls with them. And the cake was delicious, I ate like 3 slices already.

At home...

After a long time, we sadly had to go home. And I immediately put on my sweats and turned on my tv. I watched Hot Ones, all night until I finally started to lose energy. And with that I fell asleep.

Con- I can feel someone watching me...

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

A/N- TY 4 all the support in this fic <33

Taglist-

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

I KNEW IT!!! I knew that one of the two episodes left of the year had to be a holiday one aha!! *LE GASP* does that mean the last one will be sonic 3?

*nods* respect 👏

A Christmas special with TARI, oooh! and noticeably a shorter one too, huh. alright, let's-a GOOOOOOOO

(the following is my live reaction:)

aww, look at Tari being adorable (see that's how you get me, have my favorite characters do cute little hops and my life is yours)

bringing back the side characters LET'S GOOOO

CLENCH omg you're back I hope you can stay for the whole episode

ooooh tari's christmas list just dropped. hmmm let's see...

Saiko = KFC Theme Guitar (honestly slay) Mario = Spaghetti Necklace (whether he's going to wear or eat it, he'll enjoy it regardless) Kaizo = Scythe Polish Luigi = Gardening Kit SMG4 = Body Oder Spray (my man can't catch a break, "he stinks" canon) Belle = Nintendo Switch Case SMG3 = Dog Grooming Kit (for Eggdog awwww) Melony = How to draw Manga book (nice callback to "SMG4 and SMG3 Shop For Cursed Items" episode for Christmas shopping) Whimpu = Glasses Repair Kit Boopkins = Body Pillow Cleaning Kit (...) Bob = Karaoke Machine (that's actually sweet considering he is a rapper and the obvious choice would be a gun or smth, tari's a good friend) Rob = Corn Keychain

the cliche superhero transition *wheeze*

can I just say I love the fit Mario has on

1920's spaghetti?

i did not expect to see Sonic 06 (foreshadowing, eh?) and as a sonic fan, i gotta respect the hustle

now, i know it's supposed to be disgusting and you obviously have to put gross things here to convey that but... there's that eye imagery again.... *flashbacks ensue*

oooh Christmas party! I wanna see that!

aww tari did get clench a glove, maybe she didn't want to spoil the surprise too soon

also let's take a moment for that board in the bg:

"Random Text Here Shameless Advertising Happy Birthday smg4!" then something signed by a "Fan"

gotta love the small details

gonna be using this as a reaction pic for now on

Mario, don't you guys have a basement? pretty sure no one will grab the bag in there

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OMG OMG THERE'S NO WAY THIS IS REAL THEY ACTUALLY USED CANTRO'S OUTFIT DESIGN FOR THIS EPISODE THAT'S AWESOME DUDE (am aware that the Team used the model before in a previous ep but it was only shown for a few seconds, this is BIG)

new merch, eh?

...i'll take your entire stock

Oh Tari, it's okay to say no. Four did ask if you had time

beautiful commercial....wha? Bob, da hell are you doing? oh the usual

charity? understandable, have a good day

PFFT HAHAHAHA that grenade bit somehow got me

oh Four somehow teleported outside, chair and all

*wheeze* the way they just latch on the back of the cop car like that

BOOPKINS? ...yeah I should've seen that coming. and he's on a toddler seat too

question for the people: is UNO a board game? if not, then boopkins, you got it wrong buddy

RIGHT NOW?! boopkins she's got her hands full

GEEZ even I'm getting stressed

gonna be real here: it was actually a good choice to have the plot at a faster pace just so we could feel Tari's stress rapidly building up

oh hey Meggy's matching with Mario (love that for the M&M siblings) but Saiko, girl, please get yourself a coat :( you're gonna freeze

OH GOD Tari, i need you to breathe please! all of this is stressing you out, it's okay to say no

...oh no

i can't look dude, i know Tari's technically fulfilling everyone's wishes but this isn't the way to go :(

C'MON TARI, HOPE YOU CAN MAKE IT IN TIME PLEASE

NO NO NO *flips table* oh poor Tari

OH NO CAN I GIVE HER A HUG PLEASE? *shakes my laptop screen* LET ME INNNNNNN

WTF NO SHE DOESN'T DESERVE THIS

TARI DON'T LISTEN TO THOSE VOICES IN YOUR MIND, YOU ARE A GOOD FRIEND

...three? let me turn the brightness up

yeah that's Four's model but for some reason has Three's voice and line.... huh... (I'll come back to this later)

dude, i literally had to pause and leave the room

fuck you got me tearing up. Team, is that what you wanted from me?

no tari, it wasn't your fault :( you didn't ruin anything

YES TELL HER, SAIKO

STAWP I'M THIS 🤏 CLOSE TO FULL-ON SOBBING WTF

FAMILY IS FOUND 👏👏👏

...wha? Three?

wait, this whole episode was you were retelling what happened to Tari, to Eggdog?

...that actually puts things in a whole new context (I'll talk about it later)

*gets hit by the book*

AY Congrats to Mango for your art being featured in the end credits! 🎉 what an awesome Christmas gift from the Team honestly

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

This was a fantastic Christmas special! This really punched me in the gut (but in a good way). Everything, as always, was amazing. Excellent job, Team!!! Too bad Clench couldn't be in the whole episode.

Oh Tari, my girl :( I felt the emotional rollercoaster along with her and I just wanted to give her a giant hug.

Me 🤝 Tari → people pleasers with a dose of abandonment issues

Tari, I've been there and I promise your friends aren't gonna leave you. What you can offer, what you're able to, that is worth something. It doesn't need to be material, just being a part of their lives is enough. No matter how big, because to them, it could mean a lot more than what you think.

It's what I've been struggling too, that the people who have approached me only wanted what I could offer, but not as a person. And it takes time to heal and open up again to people who are worth opening up to, but you'll get there.

So, to remind you (yes, the one behind the screen): you are enough. We are enough. What you do, means a lot more to other people than what you think. You'd be surprised how much a second of your presence means to people, and they value that. It's why it's okay to say no when you aren't able to, they'll understand if they truly do care for you. I promise, time will come around for you to find the good ones.

That's why I love this show. It isn't just a "silly meme show", it's so much more than that. Yes, it does have its funny moments but it can be emotional, dramatic, exciting. And even relatable. That's the point of stories. Like I said countless times before:

Every story, no matter how outlandish it seems, is grounded in reality.

That's why I'm glad this was one of the last episodes of the year, to bring it all back that it's a story that we all can relate to in some way. That we aren't alone. Grab each other by the hand and take one day at a time.

Oh boy, sorry for that emotional stuff. Just wanted to bring some comfort 💙 With that, I'm gonna bring back what was the most interesting of this episode: SMG3

It wasn't until the very end that we realized this whole episode was Three retelling Tari's story not only to Eggdog but also to Terrance.

(If I remember the layout correctly, right in the same nook above the fireplace is where Terrance's photo is placed)

So, yes, he is reading a bedtime story to both of his sons. (just gonna cry in the corner for a second) He's such a dad 🥺

Anyway, i shall put my theorist goggles on:

Back in the part when Tari was too late to buy the Crew presents and the voices in her head were bashing her for failing, we have SMG3 for some reason come in:

To be clear, that's Four's model (notice the lack of chip of the cap) but Three is the one saying: "And I thought I was evil..." Other than being the narrator, Three wasn't in the story, so the question is why?

The obvious would be that the Team simply made a mistake and forgot that they placed this in. Ok, sure, that's if it was on accident. But what if they did it on purpose?

As Three stated in the episode "Trash Friends", he truly believes he's "the worst version of SMG4"

Think about it: the basic roles for them are Four as the hero and Three as a villain.

If Three was ever in an episode all of a sudden is because he is the negative force of the story. Recall back to the episode "Meme Hunters" when Three was forced to be "the conflict" of the episode.

Now, it may seem harmless but to him, he was afraid to be perceived as nothing more than "SMG4's cheap and worst copy"

And also in "You Used to Be Cool", people have noticed when he does lay back a bit from the usual villain/rival role and bash him saying, "This isn't you."

Hero or villain, you're seen differently by everybody

Then there was the whole "moral of the story" part:

Ofc, it's a whole thing that Three refuses time after time that he's not friends with the Crew

Now with the context that we have, we just got a peek into Three's fears/insecurities. Basically: if he opens up and accepts that he has friends, they might try and take advantage of him. So, what should he do? Close himself off, be an asshole, and deny, deny, deny.

Despite risking literally everything, INCLUDING HIS OWN LIFE, for them, he's doing this to protect himself from emotional harm when he's the most vulnerable.

There's indeed a trope that villains, especially redeemed ones, would have a sense of empathy of some kind. They know what's like to hit rock bottom, it's why they can empathize with the people who least deserve it, like Tari. (Even with Four back in IGBP.) So yes, as much as this is a story about Tari, it also relates to Three.

How can you have what you want when you're the one holding yourself back?

Three: "I also need love, understanding, and tenderness." [IGBP movie, Spanish dub] Three: " I just want the USB in that spaghetti in your stomach so I can use it to gain fame and love that SMG4 has too much of, okay?!" Mario: "...Is that it? Silly SMG3, you could of just told Mario instead of suppressing your inner emotions and your fear of being forever forgotten." [Trash Friends]

I mean, look at the last episode, he was so happy to know he got fanart.

The pressure he has, the role he has to play, what he's perceived as. It all affects him. Sure, he doesn't care that he's not perceived as the standard definition of a villain but he is really as human as he can be, with fears and desires.

Another way to see the "failure" part of the episode is that Three could never see Four in a negative light. Sure, Four has made terrible mistakes but past the YouTube Arc, Three has never seen Four as a villain (again, the role of the hero thing). Four is flawed just as he is, but since he's the one telling Tari's story, he replaces Four with himself in the narrative.

It's not confirmed it's because he cares about Four in this instant but it's obvious he has done it on purpose. All because that's the role he plays, one he absolutely fears, "an evil and worst copy of Four".

(For all we know, he might've altered some other things in the story we haven't even known about.)

AND the fact that he's telling it like a bedtime story to his son(s) as a warning, so they don't go through what he went through when he was younger (his whole parenting of reminding them that they're loved and appreciated for even the smallest things)

So, long story short: me 🤝 Tari 🤝 SMG3 → underlining abandonment issues

I've been noticing that a lot of points from past episodes are starting to resurface again (like IGBP) and I do hope we get to bring back what's going on with Three. Then, we might get Three having the same conclusion that Tari went through: as much as he wants to deny it to protect himself, he'll realize that it's okay to be vulnerable and have friends.

And he'd be surprised how much of what he did was valuable to them. That what he seeks is already right in front of him. After all, he's already part of the Crew :)

He would just have to let himself avert his view and see the truth.

[darkpuppysuit]

Happiness

HybridAU- BTS- OT7- poly!ot7, Hybrid!bts (minus Seokjin) x Hybrid!reader

6.5k Words

Fluff and crack pretty much.

WARNINGS: Hybrid abuse, mentions of s*xual content, slightly bloody, one mention of "the devils lettuce" oh and cursing duh.

Uh nothing else I don't think?

Lmk if I missed something.

Run, run faster, don't stop fucking running.

Those are the only words that ring like a broken mantra inside my head as I sprint down the empty sidewalk in the dead of night, for what reason is a hybrid running alone at this time of night?

I'll tell you.

I was once a present for a little girl of a wealthy businessman about five years ago, everything was going great for me at first, the girl and I were friends she loved me with her whole heart, my adoption certificate was even in her name, she was my whole world after I had just turned twenty and the adoption was set in stone.

Her father let her adopt a hybrid strictly because most of them were good with kids and he thought of me as some glorified babysitter but not even a year later my little girl was diagnosed with brain cancer and she passed away on her birthday the following year.

Her mother couldn't even look at me without crying remembering all the fun times the three of us had together, like the summer picnic we had at a local park for my adoption day or the movie night we had after Christmas had come and gone, laughing and throwing popcorn at each other when a food fight started on screen.

The father on the other hand is a nasty man, back door dealing drugs, guns and ammo, you name it he gave it to you for a high price whether that be information on his competitors or cold hard cash, while the face of his business was a hybrid rights center, bunch of bullshit if you ask me.

He started coming into my room a month after his daughter passed away, a drunken fool but who was I to tell him no or get away from me? I couldn't do jack shit I had to sit there and take the punches and the slaps of the whip he brought into my room the same night.

He would yell at me for killing his daughter at the beginning then he started blaming me for everything that was wrong in the world using racial slurs and hybrid slurs in a means to get under my skin so I would lash out at him, giving him another reason to punish me.

He would starve me half to death because I was too big for a hybrid that was meant to be small and frail, unable to provide or protect herself, most of the time I wasn't even allowed to leave my room but tonight was the final straw.

I couldn't take the years of abuse anymore so once he was passed out in the bed next to me I used it as my chance to escape, putting my clothes back on as quickly and quietly as I could before silently running downstairs and out the door.

The cool spring air sent a chill down my spine, I closed the door gently and started walking out of the rich neighborhood I once called home and down the first alleyway I could find which was my first mistake.

I rub my hands up and down my arms hoping to keep myself somewhat warm cautiously walking forward and looking over my shoulder every now and again to see if someone was following me when I hit a brick wall, no, brick walls don't growl like that.

"Look what the cat dragged in!" The mystery man roughly grabs me by the shoulders and yanks me in front of him with a disgusting smirk on his face his scent reeks of shitty cigars and marijuana with a hint of wood rot. "She looks like one of those rich bastard's hybrids look at what she's wearing, not to mention that diamond studded collar she's got on." Another hybrid stands in front of my shaking form flicking my sensitive ears causing me to squeak.

"Awe would you listen to her? Do it again Max she seems to like it." He chuckles darkly before the other man flicks my ear again causing me to hum due to how sensitive my ears were. "Please s-stop I don't-" A fist meets my already starving stomach causing me to fall into the grime and garbage below me.

The hybrid that was previously holding my arm kneels next to me, his horrid scent filling my nose and I clamp my hand over my mouth but it was so pungent I could taste it in the back of my throat, I damn near threw up.

"Give us your collar bitch and we'll call it a night." He demands, I couldn't bring myself to let it go not now, it was the first present my little girl gave me when she adopted me, it's become the last physical memory I have of her.

The thin hybrid grabs a fist full of my hair and yanks my head back exposing my throat and only now do I notice that their both bear hybrids, shit. "You heard him squirrel hand it over and we'll let you get away with your life."

I have no idea what to do so I take a short glance around me and find an old pipe and lunge for it, swinging it at them connecting with one of their heads. "You're gonna regret that rat!" I don't give either of them enough time to scramble after me as I'm already out of the alleyway.

Those events are what have led me to a suburban area filled with houses with two very pissed bear hybrids running after me, tears filling my vision but that doesn't stop me from running, my legs however are about to give out from under me at any given moment and I don't feel like becoming their next meal.

I dip into a strangely large, random backyard and hide in the bushes at the back of the house in an attempt to catch my breath. My body shivers and shakes with every breath of air I take. A short minute later the bears catch up to me and my body goes into overdrive and I pass out.

_______________________________

The morning sunlight shines through the sheer curtains into the large bedroom when an alarm clock starts screaming and the blanket on the bed starts to shift slowly with a few grunts and groans to accompany the body that moved to turn the alarm off and slink out of the tangle of other bodies in the bed.

"Why so early hyung? Come back to bed." In reality it wasn't early at all not to Seokjin at least. "It's only eight in the morning bun, not even as early as it should have been, let go of my leg."  He quips trying to shake the bunny hybrid off of him without waking the others.

He successfully manages to escape his grasp almost falling before he saunters the length of the floor into their shared master bathroom to take a shower and get ready for work. Another person starts to move out from underneath the pile of warm bodies, actually face planting onto the floor with a loud thud followed by groan.

"Fuck, that hurt." The coyote hybrid groggily drags himself off the ground to his feet, looking around for his boxers and a shirt to wear downstairs to make some coffee and maybe a quick breakfast for his mates. 

He jogs downstairs pulling an oversized old tee over his head towards the kitchen and turning the stove light next to the coffee machine on, getting it started as he pulls three mugs out of the cabinet above his head. "Good morning my love." The coyote hybrid sleepily preens at the nickname as he hands the panther hybrid his mug, taking a sip of his own. "Morning Yoons, did you sleep good?" The hybrid grunts as he slowly shuffles towards the breakfast nook, sitting in the corner facing the window. 

"Honestly Hobi, I could've slept better if someone's foot wasn't wedged in my fucking ribcage all night." He grunts when the sound of heavy footsteps causes his ears to perk up and swivel around to listen to his younger mate trudge down the stairs.

"It's not my fault you always end up at the foot of the bed after sex, kitty cat." The wolf hybrid greets him with a peck on his forehead before moving over to the bar located at the large island in the middle of the open kitchen giving Hoseok a morning kiss on the lips. 

"It is so your fault, you have the longest legs I've ever seen on a hybrid, big oaf." Yoongi quips glaring at the walking oak tree of a hybrid. Before any of them could get another word out Seokjin comes down the stairs in his snazzy navy blue suit.

"Morning my boys." He says happily completely unaware of the small fight that could've happened had he not walked down the stairs when he did. "Coffee on the porch? It's nice out this morning." Seokjin greets each of his mates with a quick kiss before grabbing his mug out of Hoseok's hands and starts towards the sliding glass door located at the edge of the living room.

They sit out on the nicely decorated porch for a few minutes, sipping their coffee in near silence. It was peaceful birds were chirping away, the warm rays of the sun shining down on them. Yoongi finished his coffee a few minutes ago so now he's resting his head on his older mates lap with his eyes closed soaking in the morning sun rays.

Hoseok sits on the opposite side scrolling through his phone while Namjoon sits across from the three of them reading a book set in medieval times complete with a damsel in distress and a brave hero come to save the day, you know that classic cliche.

The wind blows gently across the patio, causing Hoseok to sniff the air for a moment before pinching his nose shut and opening his mouth disturbing the quiet morning. "Do you smell that?" He continues to sniff the air around him, taking a whiff of Seokjin and Yoongi as he stands up from his perch, his ears flicking in every direction trying to locate any sound and the awful smell of burning pine, wilting lavender and cigars? 

"Yeah I smell it too it's killing my fucking nose." Yoongi complains making no effort to get up from his spot on the outdoor couch nuzzling his face into Seokjin's stomach to hopefully mask the odor with his sweet scent of bubble gum and vanilla. "Whatever it is we have to find it and get rid of it before the other three wake up, you know how sensitive Jungkook's nose is." Seokjin quickly finishes his coffee nudging a half asleep panther until he moves off his lap to help look for the source. Even though he didn't have a sense of smell like his mates, that didn't stop him from helping them look. 

All four of them look around the open yard first, checking the nearby tree line and flower patch just on the other side of the house before Seokjin takes it upon himself to sift through the flower bushes located next to the porch, pricking his fingers on the thorns a couple times before he spots something small twitching deep within his pink rose bush.

"Hey I think I found something! Namjoon I need your long arms!" Seokjin yells for the wolf that comes running to his mates side, he points down into the rose bush with his nose holding the branches and flowers out of the way so he didn't accidently crush any of his precious roses. 

Namjoon gently puts his hand down to reach for the small creature pulling it out and looking it over. "What the fuck is it? A chipmunk?" Yoongi and Hoseok stand next to the others when Taehyung, the tiger hybrid, walks out of the house letting out a loud sneeze as the sun hits his face causing the four of them to flinch at the sudden intrusion and Namjoon to almost drop the tiny animal.

"Why are you guys yelling? It's so ear- what is that?" He points to the small lump of fur in Namjoon's large hands. "We don't know but it's still breathing, granted the breathing is shallow but it's breathing nonetheless." Yoongi responds almost flatly, taking the tiny animal out of the wolf hybrids grasp before he could accidently crush it, bringing it up the porch steps and inside the house. 

The bunny hybrid practically leaps into Seokjin's arms with his bright bunny smile and messy bed head, rubbing against his neck. "Good morning to you too love bun, watch out I need to get to the medicine cabinet."

Seokjin pats the muscular bunny hybrid on the back before gently pushing him out of the way, laying down a clean dish towel so Yoongi could put the weak animal on it. "What's going on?" Jimin, the red panda hybrid, asks rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"It looks like a sugar glider- is it a hybrid?" Taehyung levels his eyes with the towel the panther hybrid set the animal down on. "Safe to say so, I mean, sugar gliders aren't exactly common around here and it looks pretty beat up too. But don't touch it, could have rabies or something." Yoongi mumbles his warning and the room falls silent when Seokjin comes back with a first aid kit, opening it up to clean a few cuts he could see and wiping the blood off of its fur. 

The animal squeals when the small alcohol soaked cotton bud meets the first cut but that's the only sound it makes as Seokjin backs up for a moment only to come back and finish cleaning it up. "It's so cute." Jimin coos at it gently stroking it's back with his index finger when it's eyes shoot open and it bolts forward fumbling off the marble countertop and towards the upstairs.

"Fuck! Someone grab it!" Yoongi yells as it slips through his fingers for a second time.

All seven of them scramble around the living room lurching forward to grab the slippery creature before it bolts upstairs and out of sight. "Way to go panda! What did I say? Don't. Fucking. Touch. It." Yoongi growls at the hybrid pronunciating his last sentence with authority causing Jimin's ears the flatten against the top of his head. "How was I supposed to know it would freak out like that hyung?" The panther rolls his eyes as he stalks upstairs with Namjoon and Seokjin in tow.

The three of them spend half the morning looking for the hybrid and Seokjin has to call into work for the day. Even Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook start looking for it after being berated by the panther hybrid.

Yoongi glares at the red panda hybrid every time he crosses his path, Jimin keeps his head down his cheeks a light shade of pink, the only time Yoongi has ever looked at him like that was when he was being a little brat in bed and even then it was a little scary. "Hey guys? I think I found it."

Everyone bolts towards their shared bedroom to meet the wolf hybrid standing at the end of their bed pointing upwards to the canopy above it, they can see a small round shadow sitting in the middle. Seokjin is the last to arrive as he just got off the phone with the law firm he works at.

Looking upwards he swats the wolf hybrid away from the edge of the bed quietly calling out to the sugar glider. "Hey it's okay honey, we won't hurt you we just want to help, please come down baby." He coos in hopes his soft words will convince the animal to come down, the others gather around the bed as the small shadow shifts over to a bedpost looking over the edge for a solid minute.

"That's it sweetheart be care-" Seokjin doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence before it jumps off and lands in Jungkook's soft curly black hair between his floppy bunny ears with a thump that's barely audible. "Oh my god! Jesus fucking��Christ on a stick! Warn me next time, squeak or something." Seokjin grasps his chest crumpling his dress shirt in his hand like he just had a heart attack leaning against Namjoons chest and the wolf scents the top of his head wrapping his older mate in his arms trying to calm his frayed nerves. 

"I think it likes me hyung, it's so cute! Can we keep it?" Jungkook beams with a bright smile as Taehyung attempts to lift the petrified sugar glider from his head but it grips onto Jungkook's curls tighter causing the tiger hybrid to pull his hair by association.

The bunny doesn't seem to mind probably because he's used to his long curls being pulled on. "I don't know Kookie, we have to see if it has an owner first but, for the time being I guess it's staying on your head because it doesn't seem to want to move." 

Seokjin ends up making it to work albeit few hours late but he gets there nonetheless leaving his six mates to deal with the new hybrid in the house until he can find out if it has an owner or not.

Meanwhile, at the house everything proceeds as normal well, minus the sleeping hybrid that has moved from Jungkooks curls to the hood of his jacket. "I hope Jin is able to keep the glider, it's cute and seems to like cuddling just like bun does." 

Hoseok rests his head in the palm of his hand as he watches their youngest mate play video games with Taehyung in the living room from the island in the open kitchen. "I hope it does have an owner, one less mouth to feed." Yoongi groans crossing his arms against his chest he's not exactly angry with the mysterious hybrid that just appeared in his mates rose bushes last night he's more along the lines of apprehensive for lack of a better word.

"Careful Yoons, jealousy is so not your color." Jimin chuckles patting the older hybrids leg he's been laying on in the breakfast nook for the past hour. "I'm not jealous of the damn thing, just annoyed." He growls pushing the panda off his lap and onto the hard floor.

"Hey, that hurt!" Jimin pouts crossing his own arms looking up at the panther from the cold tile floor. "Then don't say stupid shit." He quips back a small smirk forming on his lips as Jimin picks himself up off the floor and onto one of the barstools at the end of the island in the kitchen with a huff.

"Would it be so bad though? I mean granted we don't know if the hybrid is male or female but does it really matter at the end of the day? There has to be a reason you guys found it shifted into its animal form this morning." 

While that was true, hybrids didn't normally shift into their animal counterparts unless it's willingly or by copious amounts of stress on their bodies, the reason this helpless little sugar glider made it into their mates bushes either last night or early this morning was something the hybrid would have to tell them when it felt safe enough to do so and that could take anywhere from hours to weeks, maybe even months.

"We just have to show the glider it's safe here with us that's it." Namjoon chimes in shrugging his broad shoulders and making his way to the fridge for a fresh glass of orange juice pausing for a moment when Jimin tells him what Yoongi did to him just a minute ago asking the wolf kiss his elbow to make it feel better only for him to blow on it.

_____________________________

A few hours have gone by and the glider has been on full alert the entire time running around out of pure survival instincts and the once calm household turns chaotic as all hell breaks loose when the damn thing makes it to the ceiling fan a good foot or so farther off the ground than the bedpost from it's prior freak out.

"What the hell did you guys do this time?" Yoongi shouts at nobody in particular because they were all just sitting in the living room quietly watching a random youtube video when the poor thing ran out of Jungkooks hood scratching the back of his neck in the process. 

"What do you mean? We didn't do anything! It just started wigging the fuck out!" Hoseok yells back as they all stare up at the fan hoping, praying even, that the heavy breathing sugar glider doesn't fall off of the fan blade as it slowly spins around.

"Did we get too loud? Maybe that's the problem, it doesn't like loud noises." Jimin proposes as he cautiously watches the scene above him with a towel at the ready to catch the hybrid if it does end up falling.

A few more minutes go by with all six of them keeping a close eye locked onto the fan above them, even talking in hushed tones to be extra safe. Even Yoongi is internally freaking out for the safety of the glider that's practically knocking on death's door, with one slip of it's tiny paw it's a goner for sure.  

Seokjin walks through the door of his home toeing off his shoes next to the messy pile by the door, with a deep sigh he starts putting the shoes back on the rack, after he was done he barely puts his keys into the bowl on the table in front of him before he hears Namjoon yell.

"Fuck! No don't-" His sentence cut short followed by a hard thud and muffled groan which causes Seokjin to mentally say to hell with it  dropping his briefcase and coat onto the floor sprinting into the open living room to find his mates looking a little worse for wear and Jimin laying face first on the carpet with a towel stretched out in his arms, located within said towel is the ever troublesome sugar glider. 

"I thought it was going to sleep all day, what the hell happened while I was at work?" He scans the room, looking between his six mates before Yoongi angrily snaps at him, something he hasn't done since Seokjin found him in an alleyway beaten half to death all those years ago. "Your little chaos squirrel happened! It won't stop going haywire at every single loud noise! It just jumped from the ceiling fan for fuck sake Jin!" 

Yoongi yells pointing from the fan to the panda hybrid who is now sitting up curling the towel around the trembling glider. "Well I guess you'll be happy to know that she has owners who are very worried and want her home as soon as possible! No more chaos! Are you fucking happy Min Yoongi?"

Seokjin snaps using Yoongi's full government name as his eyes start to gloss over. The fact that he thought screaming at him would get anything done hurt his heart but what hurt him the most was knowing exactly who her owner is, a disgusting old man with a nasty habit of using hybrids for his own gain or worse his own perverted desires.

The house goes quiet, so quiet in fact you could hear a pin drop and it would still be too loud, the seven of them almost forgetting about the small creature tucked away in Jimin's arms. "Jin baby, I'm sor-" Seokjin raises his hand and Yoongi stops talking before he even begins, walking over to Jimin whose ears lay flat against his head with his tail wrapped tightly around his waist from all the yelling, holding onto the towel for dear life. 

"Chimmy, hand her over, she needs to go home." Seokjin holds his hands out waiting for the panda hybrid to hand the glider over to him but he refuses to release her. "Can't she stay one night? Her scent is rancid Jinnie, she's terrified and started squirming in my arms the second you mentioned her owners. Please, just one night?" Jimin all but begs at Seokjin's feet to let her stay, he didn't even know her name or her story yet the pink haired hybrid clearly wasn't ready to let her go just yet. Seokjin puts his hands on his hips with a long sigh pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Just for tonight then she goes back to her own home." He says through gritted teeth, the panda hybrids eyes light up and he opens the towel unable to hide his excitement. "Did you hear that glider? You get to stay even if it is just for tonight!" He exclaims his tone somewhat sad, though the glider hardly moves until she catches a glimpse of the bunny hybrid and his soft off white floppy ears quickly jumping from the towel and running straight up his muscular body, into his long curly hair nuzzling into the base of his ears causing him to thump his foot repeatedly on the ground, laughing happily with his big bunny smile gracing his handsome face.

Later that night after they had eaten take out from a local pizzeria and fed the glider some fruit which she happily scarfed down so fast Seokjin thought she was going to choke. They're all laying in bed quietly huddled against each other for warmth, the sugar glider is happily tucked away within Jungkooks hood once again, letting out the softest of purrs.

"Jin?" Yoongi whispers into Seokjins ear as he nuzzles his nose onto the nape of his neck, his mate doesn't reply right away and keeps his back turned to him. 

"Baby please, I said I was sorry." The panther wraps his arms around his mates middle giving him a light squeeze causing the older man to chuckle. "I know honey, it's just- I happen to know her owner-" Seokjin pauses to roll over and face Yoongi tracing shapes onto his bare chest as Yoongi's jet black tail curls around his leg.

"Her owner is a no good backstabbing motherfucker, gets what he wants how he wants jackass, overweight perverted bastard that the firm just can't seem to pin down."

Yoongi stares at him for a moment, never has he heard such colorful words to describe a human leave his gentle mates mouth in rapid succession like this, it was actually kinda hot, though he wouldn't say that out loud not at the moment anyway.

"You out of all of us should know what her home life is like with scum like him." Which of course he did know, Yoongi came from a home similar to hers, some rich fuck wanted an exotic hybrid only to use and abuse him for years until one night when he finally let his animalistic instincts take over, almost killing the man and his wife in the process which caused him to be beaten bloody by his thugs and thrown onto the streets to die. 

"I wish you would've told me that earlier." He says calmly pulling his mate closer laying his head onto his toned chest. "You didn't let me get a word in before you started yelling at me." Seokjin whispers and sheepishly looks up at the panther who is already staring down at him.

"I said I was sorry baby, please don't tell me you're still mad at me because I don't think I can take it much longer." Feigning pain rather dramatically like the tiger or coyote hybrid would have, he receives a light slap on his shoulder. "You're too serious to be this dramatic Yoons. Leave the theatrics to Hobi and Tae will you?" Yoongi flashes his gummy smile before giving his mate a rather long apologetic kiss before turning the light out behind him.

___________________________

Early the next day Seokjin wakes up to the sound of snoring rather than his shrill alarm, it was Saturday and the sun was shining right into his eyes as it rose up into the warm colored sky.

He untangles himself from both the panther and wolf hybrid who had wiggled his way against his back sometime in the night, standing to his full height and rolling out his broad shoulders he makes his way into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and his doing his skin care routine.

Once finished he walks back to the bed to take one last look at his lovers, his mates, all curled onto the bed before he leaves the room only something was different, a tuft of hair to be exact, a bright color he's not used to seeing laying in his bed cuddled into Jungkooks chest with his arms curled tightly and protectively around her shoulders under the covers.

He steps over to the opposite side of the bed and pulls the blankets back a little causing her to shiver and the soft, slightly pointed ears on top of her head to twitch at the unwelcomed cold air that hits her hot skin.

Seokjin freezes hoping he didn't just wake her up but he relaxes once more when her head turns a little giving him full view of her face. He could tell she was young no older than twenty-three maybe, her sun kissed skin held a few tiny constellations on her cheekbones, her pouty lips were dry and cracking in the corners from dehydration and her obviously once chubby cheeks were sunken in like she hadn't been able to eat anything for days, weeks maybe.

What he didn't particularly like was the flashy collar weighing heavily on her neck not only that but the marks and bruises left on what he could see of her body by who, god only knew at this point. 

Seokjin lays the blanket back over her giving the glider a forehead kiss as Jungkook absentmindedly pulls her back against his body, his snoring slowly getting louder and louder the more his subconscious pulls him back into the dreaming world. 

Ever so leisurely, as is the norm on the weekends for the seven mates, one by one they wake up after Seokjin has had his cup of coffee and is making a savory smelling breakfast in the kitchen, walking around him to make sure they didn't bump into him because the last time, Namjoon was in the kitchen he had bumped Seokjin's elbow and what was supposed to be the gravy for the biscuits he was baking in the oven turned into a new paint job for the stove and the wall behind it. 

"Is Kookie going to come down or do I need to pry him off of her?" Seokjin teases the bunny hybrid who isn't here to defend himself as Jimin is the last one besides the two still in bed to arrive at the table for breakfast.

"Probably, I mean he's stuck to her like bees on honey, I tried to wake him up but he refuses to budge an inch." Jimin replies sitting down in his respective seat between Yoongi and Taehyung. 

Seokjin places the last bowl of food onto the table taking the apron Namjoon bought for him on valentine's day last year off, hooking it next to the other five before sauntering off to the bedroom.

Seokjin quietly makes his way to the closet taking out a plain shirt, a roll of unused boxers and some sweat pants for the sugar glider hybrid to put on, only now realizing he doesn't even know her name. "How could I not think to ask that bastard her name yesterday? Stupid." 

Upon closing the closet door his gaze is met with a very skittish wide awake hybrid and to make things more awkward she was naked, clutching the duvet against her chest. The bunny hybrid nowhere within his line of sight.

Taking a deep breath he approaches her with caution because if her human form is anything like her sugar glider counterpart she will run and she will climb anything to get away from whatever or whoever came towards her. 

Her actions surprise him further when she just stares at him with wide pale blue eyes keeping track of his every move. Her eyes darting everywhere at once pausing briefly on the closed bathroom door only to land back on Seokjin.

"Hey darling, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you, here." He sets his clean clothes onto her lap giving it a light tap. "These are for you, I'm assuming Kookie is in the bathroom?" He asks her quizzically, she opens her mouth only to close it again hesitantly nodding just as the bunny hybrid comes out of the bathroom tying his basketball shorts to fit his narrow waist.

"Morning Y/n, I'm sorry if I woke you up. Oh, good morning hyung." Jungkook smiles his big bunny-like grin before walking towards the pair on the bed giving Seokjin a kiss on the lips and Y/n a peck on the forehead a pink blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I'll see you downstairs?" Seokjin smiles at his youngest mates show of affection towards her before quickly nodding his gentle features adorning his own unique grin. 

Downstairs in the breakfast nook the rest of the hybrids are making small talk while stuffing their faces with the breakfast their mate had cooked before the bunny hybrid hopped down the stairs with a pep in his step. "What's got your tail wagging this morning Kook?"

Although his tail was nothing but a soft cotton ball on his lower back it was indeed swinging back and forth at the speed of light it seemed. "She's so beautiful hyung, she's got these beautiful pale blue eyes and her hair, oh my god."

He stops to take his seat between Hoseok and Namjoon before he starts up again as Yoongi fixes him a plate. "Not to mention her heavenly scent, she smells like a lavender field and a pine tree forest with a hint of sweet coconut."

Jungkook practically swoons over the girl leaning onto Hoseok's shoulder as he covers his chest with a wistful gleam in his eyes. "Easy there lover boy, don't go getting yourself attached just yet, she's supposed to be going back to her owners today." The panther hybrid reminds him setting his full plate down in front of him and Jungkook digs in with a slight pout.

"Not if I have anything to say about it, did you see the bruises on her? Just the solid ring around her throat alone is enough to make me hunt the bastard down myself." Taehyung interjects pointing nowhere in particular with his fork, his deep voice laced with venom when he mentions her visible abuse.

Anyone with a pair of eyeballs could see she wasn't living in a happy home like they were. "Tae come on man, you're supposed to back me up here. We all knew what was going to happen once we woke up this morning." 

Yoongi's voice, always calm and serious, waivered as those last few words fell from his lips. "I don't care, I refuse to let her go back there only to be beaten and sexually abused by that poor excuse for a human. Someone should string him up by his toes and let all the blood rush to his head until he passes out or better yet, dies."

Though his out of pocket comment was oddly dark for the otherwise cheery hybrid, his feelings were mostly shared by the other five sitting at the table.

Seokjin arrives at the table finally able to put his ass in a chair for the first time this morning, shifting it forward to make himself a plate. "So? What's the verdict?" Yoongi deadpans not letting his only older mate take a bite of his food quite yet.

"I can't- I mean- just looking at her skin ruined by those dark purple bruises and cuts- not to mention that gaudy choker around her neck." He scoffs remembering how only moments ago exactly how difficult it was to convince her to take the son of a bitch off just to take a shower. 

"It's been so long since she's taken it off that it's caused an angry rash to form around her throat for fuck sake." He angrily throws the spoon back into the bowl and sits back in his chair with a thud, his mates catching his scent of stale bubblegum and burning vanilla sticks coming off of him in waves.

"I am not letting her go back to that place." He pauses briefly to take a bite of his lukewarm potatoes. "No chance in hell am I going to hand her over to her abuser when I can just as easily take him down in the courtroom if he so much as blinks in my general direction."

Seokjin can't growl like his mates but if they had to guess, it would sound like someone revving a diesel engine continuously, low and guttural if he could. 

The loud laughter rings throughout the house, floating through the air and quite infectious if Y/n had anything to say about it. "Funny bunny." Her voice is rough and hoarse but that doesn't stop her from giggling at the hybrid who had his chopsticks stuck in his mouth like a walrus making ungodly noises.

The seven of them turn their heads with wide eyes to face her completely bewildered by her small gravelly voice and smiling at her short frame standing with her little feet turned inwards, she was wearing the pair of boxers Seokjin had given her, they squeeze the top of her thick thighs with the shirt she was given hanging just below her chubby little stomach but it was all covered by Jungkooks hoodie that she had spent the night in. 

Her hair was long, bright and beautiful, her pale blue almost silver eyes shone brightly compared to her black glider eyes. "Morning sugar, we saved you a plate. Here take my seat and eat something, please?"

Y/n's head snaps in the direction of the coyote hybrid who is now standing behind his chair with his empty plate replaced by hers, she tries to hide away from the predator hybrid by running behind the kitchen island and sitting on the floor.

Jungkook stands from his seat, taking the chopsticks out of his mouth and rounding the kitchen island, kneeling beside her. "Hey baby it's okay, they're not going to hurt you. They just want to take care of you and I promise you they do a good job too, I mean look at me."

The bunny points to himself puffing his chest out with pride. "I couldn't be more than well taken care of now, do you want to sit next to me?" Jungkook flashes his bunny smile offering the skittish hybrid his hand in hopes she'll come out of her little hiding spot behind the counter. Y/n timidly looks between him and his tattooed hand a few times before she takes it and stands up waddling her way behind Jungkook over to the table where his six mates were waiting.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

”Who’s this then?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know, and only to hear the excitement in Jamie’s voice as he tells her all about Roy Kent.

She’s a City girl through and through and it is a little jarring to see different colours up on her wall, but that’s what being a parent is all about, isn’t it? Loving someone enough to love what they love, even if it turns out to be the captain of bloody Chelsea. 

--- 

Posters come and go, there are girls and footballers and other girls and other footballers and then others still, but Roy Kent stays where he is, slap bang in the middle and staring right at her with those weirdly intense eyes whenever she gets in the room to hoover.

Needs to relax a bit, that one, she thinks, more than once. For all the pictures and clips Jamie has shown her, she’s never seen Kent smile. Plays like a god, though, one of those vengeful ones, so she guesses she can see the attraction.

---

It’s obvious that Jamie’s not happy, and she’s not either, what with having him move down all the way to London to play for AFC Richmond of all teams. Still, she supposed a loan make sense, get him more minutes and bit of experience.

“Didn’t Roy Kent move there after he quit Chelsea?” she asks, and is pleased with the way Jamie’s eyes light up a little at that. “You’ll get to play together now.”

---

“He’s a nasty bastard. Right fucking bitter about not being as good as he was, yeah?”

She doesn’t hear much more about Roy Kent after that, not for another year or so. Doesn’t hear much from Jamie at all, really, not even after he returns to Manchester. When he does stop by – for Christmas, for her birthday – he talks about just about anything but football. Doesn’t mention fighting Kent on the pitch, doesn’t say a word about calling him a knob on national television.

Doesn’t take the poster down either, though, she notices when he’s gone.

---

“Jamie Tartt is a muppet and I hope he dies of the incurable condition of being a little bitch,” Roy Kent says and she’s already halfway out the sofa when Simon’s hand on her arm holds her back.

“If Jamie wants it down he’ll take it down,” her husband tells her.

---

She sees her son crouching, defeated, on Wembley grass, and her heart breaks for him. Two days later he’s outside her door and in her arms and he’s talking like he hasn’t talked to her since he was loaned to Richmond and her heart breaks for him all over again.

She can’t wish she had never gotten with his wanker of a father, for how can she, when she got Jamie out if? Still, there’s no stopping her from wishing James falls down a sewer and drowns in shit, gagging on it as he goes.

“And I’m just standing there, like I couldn’t move or something, right, but then Roy walks over and I though he was going to fucking punch me, but he just hugged me, like really tight, and I fucking bawled my eyes out. Dead embarrassing, it was, but… made me feel safe, too. Made me think of you.”

She stops flipping the poster off, after that

---

“So Roy offered to train me, special,” Jamie says, and she thinks it sounds a bit like torture personally, the things Kent is apparently having him do in the middle of the bloody night, but Jamie’s nothing but enthusiasm and barely contained pride so she’s happy for him.

---

She knows that other parents might have been surprised to see their son befriend and then bring home people whose pictures he still has on his wall, but their sons are not Jamie, are they?

Roy Kent proves far less domineering than she might have suspected. Doesn’t shout once, is polite about Simon’s baking, and tells her he loves her before he leaves. Definitively has some issues, but seems a nice enough lad for all of that.

--- 

Simon drives them down to London for Jamie’s 26:th birtday and it’s only the third time she’s ever been to his Richmond home. As she exits the car, Roy Kent exits Jamie’s front door and pauses at the sight of her.

“Hey,” he says, and it’s a bit endearing, the way he sounds unsure, like he doesn’t know what to make of her or how to act around her.

No need for any of that, though.

“There he is,” she exclaims, adding, “I’m going to hug you now,” before doing just that.

His body is solid and hard and held so fucking stiff, but after just a moment – surprisingly quickly, really – he relaxes into the embrace, like maybe it’s one he’s been wanting for a very long time. He holds her tight and she lets him and she can see what Jamie means about him being a great hugger.  

Eventually, she gently pulls back a little, so she can smile up at him as she says, “Thank you.”

Off his furrowed brow, she continues, “For what you’ve done for our Jamie. I know it’s meant a lot to him, you training him and being his friend and everything.” 

“Oh. Jamie’s told you about that, has he?”

And she must raise her eyebrows at that, kindly but incredulously. “Of course he has, love. Never shuts up about you, does he?”

As it turns out, Roy Kent does know how to smile after all.

[rrking]

Some General BG HCs

Me and my wifey often discuss Astarion things in real life, and there are a few that I thought I would share.

Spoiler warning⚠

Astarion

Random knowledge bank. Meeting your parents for the first time and your dad wants to talk about history? Ask Astarion, if he doesn't just know, he remembers.

Enjoys going to the library. Does not enjoy the rabble who also enjoy the library. You have to explain to him over and over about library cards and infrared scanners so he doesn't just nope out and steal the book. Also gets annoyed when books from his time are revised.

Don't want to touch the raw meat packaging? No worries, Astarion will lick it up for you. Imagine him leant against the kitchen counter sucking up the blood from that piece of paper at the bottom of the mince. (A wifey thought)

On the subject of blood, if you cut your finger in the house he will be licking that up for you with a leering grin. Dragging it out so he can watch how you roll your eyes at him.

Comes in late, as usual, but this time after taking out every fucking goose or pigeon in the local area. The council are unhappy. Astarion is ecstatic. Word of a bird plague is sweeping through the borough. You are not happy with Astarion. Astarion doesn't care about the council until they put your council tax up.

Glares out of the window at kids playing but won't admit they're kind of cute. Especially glarey when kids come to the door trick or treating. Bonus points if they're dressed as vampires... Maybe he'll compliment them. "Darlings, look at your adorable little capes! Does your mother know you lot are prancing around dressed like monsters?" Will absolutely deny any niceties when you look at him knowingly, a smirk appearing on your lips as you notice the bucket of sweets he's holding, still excited after giving the children far more than they needed. or asked for.

Moans and groans when you watch vampire films. "Darling, turn that nonsense off, would you? Were you curious about vampires, you have one right here."

Groans even more when you watch law and order style programs, particularly court ones. Bad memories. "And why did he not get the death sentence?!"

Serial social media meme stealer.

Always creeps up behind you when you are looking in the mirror, ready to scare you. Or shag you, you be the judge.

Gale

Want chippy but don't want to get up or wait for an order? Blink. Gale will blink there and back. What's faster than Uber Eats? Going via the Astral Plane.

100000% will make you a brew if you ask :) He turns up with your favourite mug and your drink exactly the way you like it.

The type of man to run you a hot bath ready when you get in from work or if you've had a hard day just because.

Definitely discovers Nivea for Men.

Remembers things like birthdays and anniversaries.

Sees shiny things and wonders if they're infused with the weave. Gazing through the jewellery shop window.

Suffers through Harry Potter at Christmas wondering where all the elegant wizards are.

Started a thing where you leave post it notes for one another with sweet nothings on. Today as you're walking past the calendar pinned to the kitchen wall, you spot a new post it note. This one is pink and bares Gale's graceful handwriting. It reads: "My most special one, everyday I wake up next to you I feel luckier than the last. Have a great day x" Such devoted notes leave you feeling warm inside.

Halsin

Prefers to buy 'living herbs' than ground jar ones because NATURE.

Is that person who goes past an adult shop and says loudly "let's go inside!"

Definitely gets stuck in garden chairs and the like due to being so massive. Don't get this man in a smart car.

Stands up at barbecues if the chair is too small. It probably is.

Literally has to be told to avoid the bear story to others because they will not understand but tells it anyway if he gets too drunk.

Actually finds it quite difficult to adapt to modern society almost more than Lae'zel.

If you live in the countryside, Halsin definitely finds it a little easier, but if you live in the city he is constantly asking questions. The thing that catches his eye today is a statue above the bank door - a lion with a key in his mouth. "Does that petrified displacer beast not wish to return to the wilderness?" "Halsin, that is a statue of a lion with a key in it's mouth." "...Oh. Why does it guard a key?" You look at him curiously, unsure of how to answer such an innocent question. "It's just HSBC's thing... I don't actually know."

Struggles to find clothes that actually fit.

Will share you a meme you tagged him in and never truly understand the new technology.

Totally enjoys long walks and feeding ducks. Eats all of the bread.

Tries to speak to the animals at the zoo. (Wifey)

Incosolably weeps at nature programs. Very confused when you try to explain that nature has to take it's course for them to film.

First thought upon seeing CGI animals dancing and talking : "IT'S A DRUID!"

Votes Green Party.

Lae'zel

Lae'zel struggles the most to integrate into modern society.

She takes up some form of fighting WWE and does not understand why the fighters don't actually hurt each other.

She complains about this after making absolute bank of course. "Ch'k! These istik talk about fighting for glory - Yet they simply roughhouse for pitiful coin." "Yeah, but look at how famous you are, Lae'zel..." Rollin', rollin', all my bitches rollin'.

Hates ood in Doctor Who for obvious reasons. "Tsk'va, ghaik!"

Wifey came up with 'Bae'zel'.

Karlach

Believes stupid spam emails you have to send onto others. (Wifey thought of this)

Shares that post of the missing dog on the other side of the world who was found 3 years ago.

Discovers TikTok, only shares animal videos and smashes TikTok dances.

Discovers aircon. 🥺

Discovers hot wing challenges... Excels at said hot wing challenges. and collects all the t shirts for winning food challenges.

Shadowheart

Posts things on Facebook like 'Shar/Selune keeps me in check. Like, share and comment 'Praise be to Shar/Selune' if she keeps you in check." Definitely gets flamed by the others.

Ends up with cute hobbies like paper quilling and crafts. Makes things for you. "You've really improved your crochet, Shadowheart! What is this one called?" Gives him a simple name like Bob or Clyde and puts him with the rest, cramming the mantle with them.

[mikaleialt]

Coming Back to You | Minah Lee

Minah Lee x Reader

Cw: angst, smut, fluff. MDNI. MERRY CHRISTMAS @taruusmoon. <3, also I was waiting for Minah to poat the perfect picture for this pic and she finally did, look at how fucking hot she is!!!! And happy birthday to my girl Minah Lee.

"I'm just saying that I wish you could make time for me, even for just 10 minutes!"

Here you are again, you've been arguing with your girlfriend, Minah for the nth time this week. You two were supposed to be on a date today, but she ditched you last second because she "forgot" that her team had a scheduled meeting earlier on the same time of your dinner reservation at this restaurant.

Now you're both here in your apartment, 4 am in the morning, fighting like a wedded couple once again. Minah just got back from their "meeting" which you found out that is actually a party from the fact that your girlfriend reeks of alcohol.

"Babe, you know that we've been busy with the show right? We all need to be better, do you hear what people call us? We weren't even acknowledged by the other contestants, they were just calling us 'Bada and her students'." You scoff at your girlfriend's alibi, seriously you can't even comprehend how she could say that while slurring over her words, completely obvious that she is drunk.

"You don't have time? YOU DON'T TIME?" You couldn't contain your anger anymore, "YOU DON'T HAVE FUCKING TIME, BUT YOU HAVE TIME TO GO DRINKING AND PARTYING WHILE I WAS WAITING AT THE RESTAURANT FOR 2 FUCKING HOURS?!" Tears are streaming down your cheeks, when Minah sees this, something inside her snaps almost like her system sobers up immediately.

"Baby I—" you cut her off "Let’s break up" You said it, you finally said it.

You didn't let Minah say anything else as you already walked out off your apartment, leaving her behind.

That was 4 months ago, you moved back to your parents in Busan after your break up, you didn't even bother going back to your apartment for your things, knowing that you're just going to see Minah once again.

2

But fate has a different plan for you. You've blocked Minah on every single social media you have, and even her phone number, but you're still somehow in touch with her leader, Bada as she is also your dance mentor. So when you received a text from her, inviting you to attend the On the Stage: Busan concert of SWF 2, your mind is split in two.

You balanced out the pros and cons of your options: You want to go to show your support to your dance teacher, but you'll see your ex again; but you can go there and show that you hold no ill will towards her, but you are also not ready to talk to her again.

You sighed in frustration as you picked up your phone and typed in your response, you just hope that you won't regret this later on.

Now here you are, sitting amongst the crowd as the teams of Street Women Fighter 2 performs on stage. You are thankful because you get to watch the performance live and you didn't get to see Minah for the most part, trying to focus on other dancers like the international crew, Jam Republic and Tsubakill, and a some dancers you're close with like Harimu from 1Million and JJ from Deep 'N Dap.

You were screaming, cheering on everyone's performance, but that is until one of the audiences' most awaited performance: Bebe's Global Artist Performance.

Cockiness (I like it) by Rihanna started playing as the stage lights illuminated the 7 girls on the center of the stage, they were all wearing a burlesque inspired outfit which really suited each one of them. You looked at the big screen and the camera immediately focuses on the person you've been wanting to avoid the most

Minah did her iconic intro once the music start and everyone around screams. You wanted to divert your focus on the other members but after seeing your hot ex girlfriend dance in that outfit, you felt your heart flutter for the first time again, almost forgetting the fact that you guys broke up a few months ago.

Not too long, the concert then concluded, all the SWF 2 teams says their goodbye to the audience and finally made their way to each to their changing rooms.

As you are on your way out of the arena, your phone buzzes from your pocket, indicating you received a text message. You fished out your phone and seeing the notification was from Bada

"There's an after party tonight, wanna come?"

You are in the same situation again as when you are invited by Bada to attend the concert. You balanced out your options once again. With the concert only you can see Minah, but you can't interact with each other which you are grateful for, but going to the after party would mean that you will be seeing and interacting with your ex-girlfriend, and that is too much for you.

You were about to type in your answer, when a familiar voice calls out to your name.

"Y/N~!" You looked at the direction where you heard the voice and saw the tall woman running towards you.

"Unnie I—" before you could even say anything she immediately pulled you to the van where the rest of team Bebe is already at, making you seat next to Lusher who is sitting next to Minah. Guess you don't really have a choice.

Just great. You thought to yourself, the rest of the Bebe girls are all talking to each other with you occasionally joining in but you couldn't really say anything else, not when you literally feel the presence of Minah near you. You are thankful enough that Lusher is seated between the two of you.

Or so you thought...

"Y/n-ie can we switch seats, I don't like seating in the middle" You looked at the poor Lusher, she's getting pale due to the uncomfortable situation. Reluctantly you let her switch seats with you, but as soon as you sat down once again, your body tenses up as soon as you brushed your arm against Minah.

She looks at you and offered a bittersweet smile before looking outside the window, minding her own business. The light from the streetlights outside cascades on Minah features, you can't help but stare at her, her now black hair that used to be dyed orange suits her better, and you can see that she wears a subtle dark eye makeup, similar to the make up she wore on their performance.

You were in a trance as you stare at her until you heard snickering behind you, Kyma, Che-Che and Sowoen were right behind you, laughing at how awestruck you are at Minah. Minah heard this also and looks at you before looking at the girls at the back.

The giggling stops as you all arrived at the party venue, the rest of the teams are inside already. Once you got in, you noticed that the members from the other teams also have their own plus one, some are their close friends, while some seems like their partners as you noticed Babysleek’s husband is also here.

The party went on, people drinks and get drunk, some dances and grinds to each other on the dance floor, and soon you too finally let loose and starts partying.

It was way past midnight now and the party is still at its peak, ‘though some are already passed out aka mostly the youngest of each team except for Haechi and Rena who are still partying like wild animals on the dance floor. You however starts to gets dizzy as the song Meddle About by Chase Atlantic blasted on the speakers, the alcohol finally getting through your systems as you now feel quite high from drunkenness. Nevertheless, you still kept dancing on the dance, grinding on the person you now failed to recognize due to the alcohol.

Unbeknownst to you the girl you are shaking your ass on is none other than Minah, her hands are on your waist as she guides your hips to match her rhythm. “Fucking hell, Y/n you’re driving me crazy” she whispers against your ear. Only then do you recognize the voice but instead of flinching away, which what you would probably do if only you were sober, you lean in more to her touch.

Your back against her chest, as you sway your hips against hers, her hands loosely wrapped around your waist while your left hand sat above it, meanwhile your other hand is reaching for her face, trying to keep her head close to yours as she whispers sweet nothings to you.

“You are so fucking beautiful…” She takes in your scent as she presses her lips on your neck before dragging her tongue against your skin. An inappropriate sound escapes from your lips and you can feel your ex-girlfriend smirks against your neck as soon as she heard it.

Her hands traveled down to your pants and started touching hour aching pussy through it. You leaned your head back more, you almost forgot that you two are still in the middle of the dance floor, thankfully everyone is drunk enough to simply ignore what you two are doing.

~~~

“Fuck…taste so good”

Here you are now, your pants now draped below your knees as you sat on the bathroom’s sink, becoming a moaning mess as your ex-girlfriend dives in between your soaking wet cunt. Tongue deep inside you accompanied by two of her fingers, simultaneously thrusting in and out of you.

“M-Minah f—uck” You couldn’t contain your moans, the effects of the alcohol finally subsided, you are now more sober than you were earlier, but now you are high on pleasure as you are about to reach your orgasm.

“Taste so fucking good. I miss this pussy of yours” Minah muttered against your folds “did you missed getting eaten out like this baby?” she dives right back in and you replied with only a pornographic moan, which only encourage Minah more.

“Such a slut for me. Tell me did you regret breaking up with me?” Minah said as she thrust her fingers inside you in a fast pace. You are already fucked out of your mind, couldn’t even construct a proper sentence as you nod your head vigorously.

“Use your words, Y/n” she looks directly at you eyes, and you did the same. You saw that behind the lust in her eyes lays a sense of hopefulness, hoping that you are telling the truth.

“Yes—YES FUCK! I miss you so much, I’m sorry I left you—ack” You are cumming, you really are close. Minah thrusted her fingers faster, while she busied her mouth once again on sucking your clit. Soon a wave of pleasure gushes on your nerves. Your breathe staggers as your legs shakes from the orgasm, your juices sprayed on Minah’s face, god she even managed to make you squirt. Minah stood up from her position and went up to kiss you which you willingly accepts.

“Please give me another chance, Y/n… I promise I’ll be better, I’ll never leave you alone again.” You saw the sincerity on her eyes and you answered her by pulling her again for a kiss.

Outside the bathroom is a poor Tatter who has been wanting to go to the bathroom for quite some time now, only to be welcomed by the moans of her best friends.

A/n: there you go @taruusmoon, I figured to just post it on Minah’s birthday instead but this also serves as your late Christmas present hope you liked it <3

[prettyboysun]

just another love song (about you)

•°. *࿐ choi beomgyu x reader

༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ bf headcanons

// fluff, cursing, a tad bit angst, suggestive/some nsfw parts 🫢 beomgyu is just so lovable it hurts // 600~ words

💌🧃🪨🪽

• beomgyu who calls u the most random nicknames just to piss u off “hey my fluffy pink poodle” “what about me is even pink” “okay cheesy fried chicken”

• loves to come up from behind you and just hold you. puts his hands under your shirt for warmth and lazily peppers kisses around your nape. when he’s feeling a bit silly he’ll draw shapes on your waist and let out weird moans in ur ear just to rile you up.

• loves to go out for dates in the rain w you. INSISTS on holding the umbrella. you have this thing together where you sprint home in the rain just for the fun of it. when you’re finally under shelter he’ll grab your face and kiss the life out of you like it’s a movie

• loves it when you play with his hair and do little braids and ponytails “makes me feel like a princess :>” as he does a twirl

• you call him babygirl and he pouts and tells u not to call him that but u know he secretly loves it

• Has a habit of putting his own food on your plate and when you tell him he needs to stop it and eat more he goes “but seeing my baby eat so well makes me happy ☹️”

• sleepily sing songs w you in bed, humming to the quiet lyrics while you both drift off to sleep

• always calls/facetimes u after dropping you off from a date, he’s just so happy to have spent time w you and already misses u

• he can’t help but cry into ur arms when u hold him and reassure him of how perfect he’s doing and that he shouldnt have to carry so much of a burden on his shoulders

• u guys randomly bite each other. sometimes it turns into all out zombie wars.

• ofc he teaches u how to play his guitar ☹️☹️ wears the pretty guitar pick you got for him as a birthday present as a necklace

• loves leaving marks on you. and vice versa. it’s like a competition to wake up in the morning and see who’s left more hickeys on the other (makes out w u in the morning just so he can leave more)

• he buys fruit flavored lip balms for you guys to share (ofc so he can kiss it off you) bought a pack of weird flavors like pickle juice or hot sauce for you on Christmas. u threw it at him when you unwrapped it.

• he quickly gave you the pretty necklace he saved up many paychecks for 😔💔

• pokes your waist or butt whenever he walks past you

• the necklaces do something to you guys. it’s so hot when the guitar pick necklace hangs over you when he’s hovering on top of you 😳 he loves to see the dainty little necklace rest on your bare torso, tugs at it to get your attention (wants to look u in the eyes but u have them shut from the pleasure he’s giving u ☠️☠️)

• likes to think to himself that he loves u more than u love him and he doesn’t mind that at all because he’s sure he’ll love you forever, even if u stop loving him 😭😭😭😭😭 (GYU STOP BEINF A SIMP DONT THINK LIKE THAT)

• he makes you so happy and pisses u off so much and he just makes you so sad but only because you love him sooooo so fucking much

// in my 3am gyu hours rn 💔💔💔

[shotgunbunny]

lumberjack ari on his birthday, thinking his little wifey forgot about it just to come home and see that she decorated the whole house, cooked his favourite meals, made him a cake and wore his favourite outfit. i need this man SO bad

༻𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞༺

WC:829 GIF by Cevanscentral

{Warnings: non really!! Mentions of sex!!Very soft dark daddy}

ꨄAfter being with Ari for two years he expected you to remember his birthday, especially because you always went over the top to celebrate it.

ꨄ Last year you had decorated the house in cute little party decorations. You baked him a cake that you frosted and decorated yourself, and then you let Ari fuck you senseless however he liked, whenever he liked all night.

ꨄBut this year he didn't wake up to your kisses. He turned and saw you fast asleep, no doubt exhausted from the numerous amount of orgasms that he bestowed upon you last night.

ꨄHe sighed, it's fine if you forgot. He couldn't be mad because, he had kept you locked up for so long, he was sure that you were starting to loose track of what day it was. So with a grunt and a gentle kiss on your forehead he headed to work.

ꨄHowever the second Ari stepped out of that door you were determined. You were going to make this the best birthday ever.

ꨄ(because little did you both know but next year you'd be too busy on baby duty to even think about his birthday or your own.)

ꨄSo you first got changed into his favourite outfit ever and ofcourse it's lingerie: A babydoll that brought out the colour of your eyes and made you seem like a princess. It drove Ari crazy as he always imagined he was the big bad warrior devouring his cute, innocent little princess.

ꨄNow that you were dressed you knew that you had better get started on the cake. You had watched many videos on how to properly decorate and ice the cake and you were finally putting it to practice. Last years cake was adequate but it wasn't even close to being good in your eyes but this year you would make sure it was.

ꨄAs you were putting the cake in the oven you set a timer for 30 minutes and began to start hanging decorations, they were Christmas decorations since Ari wouldn't let you go into town to buy any new ones. So you made sure to stick to the crystal ones and avoid the green bauble. You'd allow the red because it was one of Ari's favourite colours.

ꨄAfter 30 minutes of wrestling with putting up the fairy lights, you headed back to the oven and pulled your cake out. It was perfect you just needed to leave it to cool for five minutes.

ꨄSo you grabbed the gift you made Ari and began to wrap it up. It wasn't much but you were so proud of it and you hoped Ari would like it.

ꨄWith a huff you wiped the sweat from your forehead and continued on your task.

ꨄWhen you were positive that it was done, you started to make Ari's favourite meal humming happily knowing that he'd be home soon.

ꨄAnd he was, He was home bang on time. He locked the car and headed in.

ꨄOnce he opened the door, his breathe caught in his throat and he felt his heart grow three sizes.

ꨄYou stood in the middle of the walkway with a blush on your cheeks and a smile on your face. "Happy birthday Ari!"

ꨄHe swooped you into his arms covering you in his kisses before finally kissing you properly. He pulled away and swiped some hair from your face. "My little wifey. You are utterly amazing. I love you so much. Look at how beautifully you've decorated! I definitely chose the perfect home maker. You make me so proud baby."

ꨄYou giggled and pulled him into the kitchen where his favourite meal sat. He smiled wider and sat down to eat with you. "You're spoiling me princess, you know that's my job."

ꨄAfter you were done, you looked at him nervously before you quickly got up and disappeared before returning with the gift. You shakily handed it to him feeling so nervous.

ꨄAri opened it and his heart skyrocketed. You had made a photo frame and the photo encased was one from last year when Ari had come home from work and wanted to dance with you. And you had sneakily gotten a picture but it was so worth it.

ꨄ"Oh princess. You take my breath away. You're so fucking perfect."

ꨄYou blushed so hard and then brought the cake in which Ari complimented so much that you were actually so proud.

ꨄAnd then when it was all done, you took his large hand and led him upstairs which he eagerly followed.

ꨄ Although it was his birthday and he wanted you to please him, he couldn't help but feel the need to please you. You had gone above and beyond for him and he wanted to repay you by doubling the amount of orgasms you had yesterday.

ꨄAnd boy, this man did not pull out. He stayed inside until he got hard and then fucked you senseless again, he just needed to hear you and be in you.

I wanna thank everyone for 1k followers!! I never thought I'd get that many ever! I'm glad you all like my writing bc it means the whole world to me!! Smooches -Fera